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praisethegabs · 6 months

Text

OLDER

leon kennedy x reader

synopsis: he's getting older, and he knows that. not believing in luck or in love, leon finds himself in a position of complete misfortune. he convinced himself he's not worthy of love, but that changes when he meets you.

warnings: angst with fluff ending, age gap, leon is very insecure about his age and the reader. strangers to lovers, mentions of smut, ptsd, alcoholism, depression, suicidal thoughts. reader is very delicate, kind, and patient. there's parts from the vendetta book and a few scenes from re6. it starts with re6!leon and ends with di!leon

word count: 15k

a/n: guess who's back? to celebrate the 1 year re4r anniversary, I decided to post this one shot I was working for almost two months. I'm into my angst era again. also i wrote this based on this analysis i read, which made me think about the broken part of leon for a while, also this fic contains part of the vendetta book. feel free to leave comments, reblogs, tips, or positive critics. they're always very welcome ❤️

I. THE WEIGHT ON HIS SHOULDERS

Life can be a bitch sometimes.

This is what he says to himself when he finishes another bottle of whiskey. Every day, when he opens his eyes, he tries to stay positive, hoping his day will be different from his usual schedule; in the end, it is always the same bullshit. Over and over again. No apparent ending; always his solitude.

But someday it must end, right? He can’t be fighting B.O.W.'s for the rest of his life, can he? Maybe someday he’ll finally settle down and have a peaceful day. Maybe, on this day, his nightmares will stop, and if he’s lucky, he’ll sleep for the entire night. No one can blame him for dreaming of a perfect life, and no one can take this from him.

The government made him their slave, their deadly pet that follows and obeys every rule and command, and forced him to risk his neck almost every week to keep their country safe. What a bunch of assholes, he thinks to himself. Thing is, Leon hates himself for what he was forced to become.

There is so much pain. So much suffering. He only wanted to be a cop — nothing more than that. He wanted to deal with simple things — not bioterrorists ready to blow up the entire world, not grotesque mutations that defy the natural order of things. Certainly, if he had a choice to go back and change that night, he wouldn’t go to Raccoon City. He would've stayed in his cheap hotel room; he would have obeyed Marvin’s orders to not go in there.

But now he’s something else. The rookie cop who had to survive that night died. He can’t even recognize himself anymore, and sometimes, he blames himself for it. No more than he blames the government for it; if he could go back…

His days are filled with this emptiness — the sensation that he might never see his happy ending. Ada? Yeah, sure. He knows he can’t trust her, and God knows where she is or what she’s doing. He was so naive to fall for her like he did. While on his free day out of the office, he finds himself with a certain envy of happy couples. He can’t stop thinking: why can’t he have the same? Why can’t he be happy for once?

Getting older sucks. At this point, Leon thinks and has already convinced himself that he doesn’t belong to anyone and that he won’t be able to have someone. To experience love and being loved, he wants to be wanted. He’s getting older and still doesn't have anyone by his side. That’s the price he pays for having this life, and he still blames the government for taking it from him. He doesn’t remember the last time he actually felt something for someone, and at this moment of his life, it doesn’t matter to him anymore. Leon had already accepted the fact that he'd die alone. Maybe he’ll get a cat to keep him company. Since he’s not much of a dog person since Raccoon City, maybe he’ll name her a cute name; who knows? That’s probably the closest he’ll get to having something waiting for him at home.

Leon doesn’t remember the last time he actually felt happy. Since Raccoon City, he doesn't know what happiness means, and sometimes, on very rare occasions, he envies people around him. He feels like his entire life has no purpose and no meaning, and he’s completely faded to emptiness, to a sad existence based on killing bioweapons and serving his country. Does he feel proud about it? No, he doesn’t.

It’s been a very long time since Leon felt pride. That feeling died and is now buried in the remains of Raccoon City, inside that police station where his life turned upside down. Now he’s only an empty shell of what he used to be. He’s rotting inside, craving something he knows he can’t have, and there’s nothing but a void inside him, consuming every inch of him.

After serving his country for years, he started to get used to the idea that maybe he wasn’t made for a happy ending, and he shouldn’t bother with such things. He can’t afford the luxury of being with someone, because it means being vulnerable, and it also means he would have to open himself to things he swore he would never feel again. No, thank you.

Things at work aren’t exactly the best, either. Years ago, Leon started to question himself about whether the government cared about their people, especially the ones he had to kill in order to save others. Leon couldn’t forget what happened in Spain — the entire village he was forced to end so he wouldn’t die. Perhaps they could’ve saved them; possibly they could’ve had a chance; maybe if… and this is where he dozes off thinking about the infinite possibilities.

After what happened in Raccoon City, Leon knew he had lost faith. He knew things would never be the same after everything he saw that day. Sometimes, he finds himself thinking about Annette and William Birkin. He feels his body shivering when he remembers he had to fight for his life, clinging to something bigger than him. Survival.

II. RINSE AND REPEAT

He has no social skills, and doesn't know how to interact with people anymore. It all feels weird and uncomfortable, and it makes him feel terrible. Sometimes he feels like he’s stuck in time and can’t have a proper conversation with someone normal. The worst part of his life is that he feels he’s carrying a weight on his shoulders that it wasn’t supposed to be his in the first place. He has the weight of the world with him, and there is no one to help him through it. Life made him depressed, cold and distant. Life has built him this way; he's shaped himself into something he’s not, and he can’t find himself. He’s lost.

Leon can’t stop having nightmares about Raccoon City.

At this point, he just accepted that they wouldn't go away. It feels like he’s trapped inside his own mind, and there’s no turning back. Sometimes at night, he keeps looking at his ceiling imagining a different life, where he was a cop and happy. Usually, his nightmares are so dark and deep that when he wakes up, he finds solace in the sunlight, feeling relieved that he survived another night. When he doesn't sleep, when he’s too scared to close his eyes, he cries quietly, protected by the walls of his room, searching for assurance and a promise that everything will be fine. It doesn’t always work, but now he knows he can control his fears, and somehow, it helps him feel safe.

This time, his mission nearly got him killed. His entire body was full of bruises and wounds, and every part of him hurt. He felt his body swallowing a little, and he felt terrible again. He has blood under his nails, and he washes himself at least three times to make sure there’s nothing more on him than the burden of being a slave for the government.

Leon is paranoid; he can’t stand the fact that he has blood on his hands. If he sees a spot, he’ll clean it until there’s nothing left, and maybe he’s now too obsessed with the idea of being clean. It makes him feel sick to the bones, because he knows what he does and what it means. He knows that this guilt won’t be washed away like the blood on his hands, and certainly won’t get away from his head like it does from his clothes whenever he launders them. It’s a pretty shitty routine, but he’s used to it.

Now he finds himself in a very dark place; he can’t eat without feeling guilty. He can’t do the basics of his chores because he can’t stop thinking about his life, regretting every decision he made. Everything he does seems mechanical, like he’s repeating the process over and over again, a perfect killing machine that has no one to care about. On Fridays, he finds himself sitting on his couch, in complete silence, holding an empty bottle. He knows he can’t drown himself in alcohol, no matter how much he wants it or how tempting it sounds, because the liquid doesn’t affect him anymore. It doesn't make the pain go away or silence the horrors he saw during his life.

After three weeks inside his house, locked inside his room, Leon woke up with a strange feeling inside his chest. Something was telling him that this day would be different, like a big change would happen. For the first time in weeks, he decided to leave his place for a simple walk. He could do that; he could walk into the market and buy some real food or maybe get a haircut. He felt that he was able to allow himself to have an ordinary day.

After taking a long shower, Leon decided to wear cozy and comfortable clothes. He was so used to his brutal routine that he almost forgot what it was like to have a normal day, but this time, he was willing to try something different. He took a deep breath before leaving his house, and when he felt the soft, cold breeze reaching his skin, he knew he could do that.

Step by step, Leon found himself walking towards the market, even enjoying the lovely view he had from his neighborhood. He doesn’t remember it to be so… gray. Sure, he knows what winter is, but he doesn’t remember the last time he actually stayed at his home during the winter. His lips turn into a small smirk, and he thinks how silly he is. When he reaches the small market, which is more of a store, he walks slowly, looking at what he might be buying - he’s done with frozen food. He stops at the veggie section and keeps looking at it, confused.

“These aren’t fresh” a sweet voice is enough to wake him up from his trance. He looks in that direction, and all he sees is you.

“How can you tell that?” he asks you in visible confusion, which makes you smile. And that smile was enough to sparkle something oddly inside him.

“Color, smell, texture,” you explained, still smiling and showing him a fresh vegetable. “This one is fresh."

"Thanks,” Leon replied awkwardly, taking the vegetable from your hand and placing it in his basket.

“You don’t come here very often. I know almost everyone who comes to buy food here,” you said next, glancing at him with curiosity.

“I… have a busy schedule,” he says, still sounding awkward.

“Really? Well, you should definitely take some time to buy healthy food. I’m pretty sure you do a lot of workouts to keep your body in shape” you giggle, noticing the size of his muscles, which makes his face turn red.

“I’ll keep that in mind” Leon managed to say, although he wanted to dissipate from Earth.

“I can help with that” you suddenly said, analyzing him more carefully.

“With what?” Leon frowned, already feeling his heart beating ten times faster.

“I noticed you’re having difficulty with your right arm, which makes me think you got it hurt. If you’re planning to buy more, I can help with your bags” you offered, very polite and kind, catching him by surprise.

“Thanks” Leon says, finding himself smiling, which is unusual.

At first, having some company after so much time alone made him think it was strange. He wasn’t feeling ready to have a small conversation, but you didn’t seem bothered. In fact, you were enjoying walking to this stranger's house in complete silence. Fifteen minutes later, you were in front of his house in an awkward silence between the two of you.

“I guess this is it” you smiled at him, and Leon found himself lost in your smile.

“Yeah. Thank you” he said for the fifth time, which made you giggle a little.

“Anything for a customer” you said to him, giving him his bags. “My parents are the owners, so…”

“You don’t seem too old” he said, and after a second, he felt more weird. “I mean…”

“Nah, it’s ok. This isn’t the first time people say I'm younger than I look”. You smiled again, thinking that this old man was very silly and cute. “I’m 25, don’t worry”

“I’m Leon, by the way” He finally says his name to you, stretching his hand in a very educated way.

“Nice to meet you, Leon” you said before shaking his hand.

Leon took at least three weeks to return to the market.

His initial thoughts about you were that he definitely felt weird in your presence. Maybe he felt that way because of his lack of social skills and because he really sucks when the subject is social conversation. He caught himself thinking too hard about the visual and evident contrast between the two of you; you were young, bright and smart, with a great future ahead of you, and plus, you came from a loving family. Leon, on the other hand, was an orphan used and abused by the government, their pet and a man who only knew pain and brutality.

However, you were the first friendly face he saw after years. The way you were smiling and giggling at his awkward answers, it definitely made him feel something he thought he would never feel again. It was like you found the rookie cop inside him, and despite the fact that he barely said something, he felt normal around you. And that was more than enough. How could it happen so fast?

“How can I help you?” you said before noticing it was him. “Oh, hi”

“Hi” Leon is welcomed by that smile of yours. “I… um…”

“You came to buy more veggies?” you ask, still smiling at him. You think it’s cute to see him without any words.

“No… I just came because I’m looking for food seasoning” Leon said, his face slightly turning red. “I’m trying new recipes, so…”

“Yeah? What have you been trying?” you ask with sudden enthusiasm, leading him to the part with seasonings.

“Nothing too risky” he answers vaguely, following you closely.

“What kind of seasonings do you like?” You turn back to face him as you show him the shelves with different types of seasonings.

“I’m more into spicy flavors” Leon tells you, his attention going to the shelves.

“It suits you” you said, giving him some space. You saw him smiling again.

"How does spicy seasoning suit me?” he asks with a hint of curiosity.

“You might think I’m weird, but… seeing from outside, you look like someone with a rough agenda and, apparently, whatever you do is dangerous. Personally, I think you suit perfectly spicy things” you said, hoping it would make sense.

“I think I got your point,” Leon said, and then he found himself smiling for the second time.

“Lucky me, right?” you laugh, walking back to the cashier. “Is this all for today?”

“Yeah, I guess it is,” Leon nods, grabbing his wallet to pay for the seasonings.

“How’s your arm?” you ask, taking his money and counting it.

“It's better. I had to take a few painkillers, but it’s definitely better” he said, avoiding you for a few moments.

“That’s great. I know a few herbs to help with the pain” you said, giving him the change from his purchase.

“How so?” Leon asks with another hint of curiosity.

“A great sorcerer doesn’t reveal her secrets” you wink playfully at him. “You need to earn that, soldier”

“And how could I earn your secrets, great sorcerer?” Leon asks, enjoying your playful mood.

“Maybe you can invite me for dinner and show me your cooking skills” you shake your shoulders and, for the second time, catching him by surprise.

“You would love that, wouldn't you?” Leon said, and a slight smirk appeared on his lips.

“Who knows?” You wink playfully at him, with another suggestive smile on your lips.

The world has gone to hell, Leon thinks to himself.

He starts to contemplate everything that has happened to him. When did this madness begin? It was back in Raccoon City? Oh, no. It is way older than that. Maybe his collapse started when his family died, and he was left an orphan; what happened in Raccoon City wasn’t really the beginning of his nightmare. It was the cherry on top of the torments that would become his life.

Now that he’s coming back home from another mission, he can’t stop thinking how his life could’ve been if Umbrella had never happened. If those bioweapons were never created, defying every natural order. He looks outside his window, and he just can’t stop blaming himself for Tall Oaks.

What has become of this world? Leon thinks. Where did I go wrong?

His life is an entire mistake. It just goes on and on. His family first, then Raccoon City. Tricell, Los Illuminados, Uroboros and, finally, that nightmare at Tall Oaks. Leon takes a deep breath. He feels his hands shaking and closes his eyes, forcing himself to forget. How silly he is!

The future is a hell that’s only getting worse.

III. THE PAIN OF REMEMBERING

You weren't expecting Leon to find the note with your number that you left on his seasonings, the same way you weren't expecting him to call you.

However, something about him got your attention the minute he stepped foot inside the store. He wasn't like anything you had seen before; he was definitely something else.

After almost four weeks since the last time you saw him, you got a call from an unknown number. It was pretty late at night, but your curiosity won the battle within you, and you had to pick up the phone. With a groggy voice of sleep, you saw the number and frowned.

“Hello?” You ask, followed by a big yawning. It was one in the morning.

“Hi… um, it's Leon” he says with some urgency, to which you jump from your bed. “I'm sorry to wake you up”

“No, don't worry. I wasn't sleeping” you lied, forcing yourself not to yawn again.

“I know it's late, but… I was thinking about that dinner…” he says, sounding somehow hopeful. “Maybe you could come later and… talk?”

“Yeah, sure. Can you pick me up?” You ask him, and a smile appears on your lips as you answer him.

“Of course. At seven?”

“At seven, it is,” you smiled again.

As soon as the call ended, he was in complete shock. For some reason, Leon felt you wouldn’t accept his invitation, especially after being alone for so long. His heart was beating faster inside his chest, and he had to remind himself that it was just a casual date between… two friends? Could you possibly be his friend?

Leon felt anxious, something he only felt when he was on his missions.

Suddenly, the mere thought of having you at his home with him sounded terrifying. He felt like it would end in a complete disaster, and you wouldn’t see him ever again. Then, Leon had to stop and calm himself down, knowing it was his trauma trying to get the best of him. After everything he went through in his life, being able to trust someone proved to be a difficult task. He felt scared, and his mind was racing with thousands of different thoughts, each worse than the other.

Betrayal is the word that defines Leon.

He was betrayed before and multiple times, which left him with a lot of insecurities and traumas to the point he feels that he can’t trust anyone, which led to another set of insecurities. Leon feels that he isn’t enough anymore, that he can’t provide the proper attention someone might need from him, and that he can’t be in a relationship because of his problems. The truth is, he can’t be in a relationship until he leaves his trauma behind, and he knows it. That’s the easy part, but the hard one is how to let it go.

Later that day, Leon finally had the courage to clean his house. He needed some motivation to get rid of his depression, and nothing was better than finally allowing himself to have some company besides his solitude. His house smelled pretty good, everything was clean, and his furniture was even shining. He opened the curtains, and the sunlight entered his living room. He took a deep breath with the fresh air that came inside, and smiled, feeling somehow proud and happy.

At seven, you were waiting outside the store, scrolling through your phone, when you saw Leon approaching on his motorcycle. You were gorgeous, wearing a beautiful dress and covered by a black leather jacket — the perfect contrast that suited you well. Leon was completely mesmerized by the sight of you - so beautiful, he thought.

“Hey, there” you waved at him as he parked next to you.

“Hi,” Leon replies, sounding embarrassed. “You look beautiful”

“You too, handsome” you said playfully, taking the helmet from his hand and sitting behind him, your hands holding him tight. You didn’t notice the small blush on his cheeks.

"Are you okay back there?” Leon asks you, making sure you were fine before starting the engines.

“Yeah, I’m fine” you said, nodding your head, and smiling when he started to drive his bike to his place.

You two didn’t take long enough to reach his place. Leon offered you his hand so you had support to get out of his bike, and he even opened the front door for you. He led you inside his house, and everything inside was enough to show you the kind of man he was; his home was big, but simple. He had a lot of comfort there, but it seemed like he didn't spend much time at his place. You saw some photos at the fireplace, a few when he was younger, at some training camp with his possible friends.

“How old were you when you took these?” you asked him with curiosity.

“I was twenty-one” he said, grabbing the wine and the glasses.

“So young” you whispered, noticing that in some pictures, he was sad.

Leon took another deep breath. Why did this have to be so difficult? Why couldn’t he be just normal for once? Why did everything have to happen to him? You were standing there, so gracefully, observing his old photographs, so young and full of life, with no baggage with you. Someone actually happy and alive. If you knew how much he envies this.

“People say that our eyes are the windows to our soul” you turn to face him, noticing his sudden silence. “Yours are so sad and broken… what happened to your neck?”

Instinctively, his hand reaches his neck, and Leon feels the bandage perfectly secured on his skin, with a small spot of blood. Gladly, it was enough to change the subject, because he was shocked enough by what you said about his broken soul. If you only knew.

“I, um… got hurt on my job. It’s nothing.” Leon tries to avoid speaking about his past.

“It seems pretty bad” you step closer to him, your hand gently touching his bandage.

“It’s nothing… trust me” Leon smiles weakly, looking down. His heart is beating so fast inside his chest that he could explode any time. “I’m fine”

“Then explain why you are so nervous around me” you whispered, now softly touching his cheek.

Leon felt he stopped breathing, like his lungs decided to leave him alone and deal with the matter himself; how powerful your touch felt. It was enough to break every wall he built around himself for years; it was enough to make him break. And it was only a soft and kind touch. He slowly closed his eyes, his breath becoming normal again, and he allowed himself to just feel it.

“I don’t know what on earth happened to you…” your voice is full of kindness as you speak, now seeing him hold your hand as you keep touching his cheek. “But I’m always here if you decide to talk”

Leon was reaching his breaking point.

He was used to being a slave, always using his body, mind and soul to provide safety for the others without them knowing one damn thing about it; he was used to always being alone, to the point that kindness was a strange feeling, almost not existing at all and that he didn’t deserve it. But here you are.

“It hurts to remember,” he confessed, his voice a low whisper. “I tried to forget it, but I can’t”

When he felt you wrapping your arms around his body and your warmth embracing him, Leon felt his eyes getting wet. He was so deeply touch starved, craving something so human, that when he got it, he knew he was going to break. His mind was racing, and his body was trying to process the feeling and react in the proper way. He felt so many emotions at once that he thought he was going insane.

“Please, keep holding me” Leon begs, his arms finding their way through your back as he hugs you back. “Because I know I’ll fall if you let me go”

After that night, it took almost two months until Leon decided to show up at the store to see you again. He felt nervous, but at this point, he realized that, for some reason, he couldn’t stay away from you; he felt that you had some type of magnetism enough to keep him close, which made him feel comfortable, something he hadn't felt in a while.

However, before he went to the store to see you, he needed courage. Leon thought you would be upset with him after being ghosted for almost two months, although he felt responsible for it, since he never told you the nature of his job or why he was so absent. Sadly, Leon was again in a spiral of sadness and depression. His last mission was a disaster, and Leon knew he had no control over his feelings again. He was sitting on his bed, contemplating the bottle in his hands. The curtains were closed, and the atmosphere inside his room was darker. He closes his eyes for a brief moment, and then, he’s there again.

June 29, 2013. Tall Oaks, USA

“It might create more problems than it solves…” the voice of the president echoes inside his head as he points his gun towards the said person.

Leon doesn't recognize the man in front of him, or what he used to be. He keeps his gun raised, his grasp around the trigger getting tight by the second he makes his decision. His voice comes and goes, creating a tense atmosphere around him.

“Bio-organic weapons are a global threat and we are partly to blame…” Benford said once to Leon when he expressed his desire to expose the truth about the Raccoon City Incident. He looks at the living corpse in front of him. Tick tack. He knows what he needs to do. “I’ve always valued your friendship, Leon… It’s time to take responsibility and end this mess”

He shakes his head, somehow returning to his reality.

“Stay right where you are!” Leon said, his voice sounding cracked and angry. The corpse starts walking towards him and as a reflex, his grip gets more tight. “Mr. President!”

The zombie starts walking towards him and the woman next to him. He hesitates for a moment, unsure and sure about what he needs to do. Every part of him screams and begs, trying to find a solution. He knows it’s too late. He can’t save the president, he can’t save anyone.

“Don’t make me do this” Leon gritted his teeth, trying to find any reason to avoid what needed to be done. It happens fast. Adam Benford, the former president of the United States and now a corpse, throws himself towards her. “Adam!” Leon screams.

He pulls the trigger.

And there’s only blood.

He gets out of his thoughts when he hears someone knocking on his front door. It doesn't take too long for him to finally stand up and see who’s there, and, inside his mind, he’s already preparing himself to tell this person to leave him alone, but his entire demeanor changes when he opens the door, and all he sees there is you.

“You’re back” you smiled warmly at him, your cheeks red because of the cold temperature. “I wasn’t sure you were home”

“What are you doing here?” Leon’s first question isn't as welcome as you thought it would be.

“A friend can’t see a friend?” you answered simply, and the smile never left your lips.

“I’m sorry” he sighs, giving you space to enter his place. “I didn’t mean to be rude”

“Don’t worry” you said, removing your scarf and hat. “Are you ok?”

“I’m fine, I guess” Leon nods slowly, and you notice he’s not entirely well.

“Breakfast?” you ask him, wanting to confirm your suspicions, and he nods quietly.

You had difficulty finding yourself inside his place, since you’ve been there only once. You notice that he’s quiet, and despite that fact, which is completely normal for him, you know that there’s something wrong. So, you decided to go simple with his breakfast. Almost forty minutes later, you came back with a plate full of pancakes, crispy bacon, scrambled eggs, and some orange juice.

He leisurely used his knife and fork to eat the food you made. The careful manner in which he ate wasn’t due to his cautious nature, but rather because he had a terrible hangover that messed with his coordination, and rushing could easily lead to a slip of the hand and his shaking. Leon was a pretty man, and he could easily take on leading roles in Hollywood blockbusters. However, he currently sported a scruffy beard, exuded a weary atmosphere, and radiated fatigue and discontent.

“I think I reached rock bottom,” Leon finally says, but he avoids your gaze at all costs.

“Then I’ll help you get out of there” you said with kindness, your pinky finger interlocking with his.

IV. GRIEF AND BARGAIN

The path to healing isn’t always easy, and now Leon is aware of that.

The year is now 2014 and he’s struggling to forget what happened a year ago. Sometimes, when his mind is quiet, he starts to wonder. Is it possible that there could have been a world without Umbrella and zombies? Leon scoffed and shook off his sweet dreams. A world without zombies? That's something from a long time ago. The future is only going to become a worse hell. Then, he has to remind himself about the great things he has in life. You are one of these things.

Although he has your support, he knows that he’ll only get better walking this path by himself. The winter deciduous forest looked like branches made of human bones. A mixed forest with a walking path spread out. This is a high-end residential area in Bethesda, Maryland, where congressmen and bureaucrats commuting to Washington spend their nights. In the depths of a thicket, there was a slightly open gentle sloping area where the desired building was located. It was a designer house filled with a sense of openness, with all outer walls covered in glass, and it appeared like a model intended to showcase beautiful scenery rather than a place for people to live in.

The luxury was excessive to the point where it seemed somewhat like a toy. Leon had hidden himself in the thicket away from the road and was monitoring the designer house through binoculars with night vision capabilities. It was an unacknowledged fact, but a traitor to the country was living in this mansion. Senator Steven Air, who had sold information to a bioterrorist organization, was one of many government officials who had been involved in the incident in Tall Oaks where the President became a victim of B.O.W. Simmons, the President's aide, was among those who betrayed the government. And Leon still blames himself for what happened that night.

Currently, fifteen members of the Division of Security Operations (DSO) and two stealth drones have surrounded Steven's mansion. It was necessary to capture him and extract plenty of information before bringing him to trial. According to reports from aerial surveillance, Steven was on his way home by car from Washington. The distance from the White House to Bethesda was approximately twelve kilometers, and it would take about thirty minutes if he drove fast. Leon shifted his focus to his shoulder holster with a handgun. Of course, capturing him alive was best, but there was no hesitation in shooting the traitor if he resisted.

Leon suddenly remembers. This is Bethesda. The name is derived from the Bible. From the Gospel of John–

“Now there is in Jerusalem near the Sheep Gate a pool, which in Aramaic is called Bethesda and which is surrounded by five covered colonnades. Here a great number of disabled people used to lie — the blind, the lame, the paralyzed. One who was there had been an invalid for thirty-eight years."

Jesus healed the man who had been sick for 38 years. God's love and His miracles. Bravo. That's exactly what this world needs in this hell.

"Target approaching."

As he thinks about the Bible, a communication comes through his earpiece. It's a report from the overhead surveillance team flying a drone. A roadway that weaves through a grove of mixed trees was approached by Stephen's white Porsche, an elegant luxury car resembling a graceful white swan. Perhaps dozens, hundreds of people may have died to buy that car. Such is the life of a villain.

"Visual on the target vehicle. Secure upon my GO signal," Leon whispered into his radio microphone. Both the earphones and microphone were of a bone conduction type that excelled in noise resistance. It converts vocal cord vibrations transmitted through the skull directly into voice signals. It was a perfect gadget for special operations where one couldn't make loud noises or miss instructions in the midst of noise.

The Porsche approached the garage.

"GO," Leon said sharply.

At that moment, two SUVs that had been hiding in a blind spot by the roadway started their engines like barking dogs and closed in on the Porsche at tremendous speed, trapping it in a pincer movement as planned. The driver of the Porsche was Stephen's secretary, with a bodyguard in the passenger seat and Stephen himself in the back seat.

Suddenly trapped from the front and back, they were thrown into confusion. Leon wondered – would the bodyguard or secretary resist? There was no doubt that they were carrying guns. He didn't want to give them unnecessary visibility, but he would deal with it when the time came. The agents jumped out of the trees. In the next moment, Stephen's Porsche exploded.

A deafening roar and shock. The high-performance explosive device planted under the car's body lifted the Porsche several meters off the ground, engulfing it in flames. And caught up in it, the DSO's SUVs overturned as well. The window glass of all the cars shattered into tiny pieces, the car bodies twisted and burned the people inside. All six agents from the team on foot, including Leon himself, were blown backwards by the force of the blast. Leon still thinks like he’s floating in the air, an eerie feeling of weightlessness that ended when he felt his body slamming against a tree trunk. In those fleeting moments, his consciousness waned, and it was the closest he had come to death.

Yet, it seemed the Grim Reaper was not yet ready to claim him.

Pain, intense and searing, jolted Leon’s awareness back to life, a grunt of pain escaping his lips. Leon struggled to his feet, and he threw up, retching repeatedly. His consciousness ebbed and flowed like waves, and he knew that rest was essential. Leon suspected that his ribs and collarbone were either fractured or cracked, but, fortunately, his arms and legs remained unbroken. Gritting his teeth, he managed to force his dislocated left shoulder joint back into place, enduring the excruciating pain, as he tried to work out which way was up.

There are bruises littered across his skin, scratches and abrasions where the bark of the tree tore his flesh. The shock of the explosion and the fear of death… an unpleasant feeling of internal organs turning over welled up. No matter how many times he experienced it, he could never get used to the terror of a close-range explosion. The air was knocked from his lungs; his breathing temporarily stopped; his eardrums were about to burst; and his knees were weak. He can barely stand. Leon finally sits up, willing his agent training to give him a sense of urgency even though his body is screaming in agony. The stench of gasoline fills the air, but Leon can barely smell it. His sense of smell and hearing are both almost gone. What the hell happened? Leon asked himself in front of the burning Porsche.

He feels paralyzed.

It was three in the morning when your phone started to ring.

It was an unknown number, and you had to fight the necessity of hanging up; something inside you told you to pick up the call, which you did. It was Leon, and the way his voice sounded on the phone made you aware that something bad had happened. Terrible, nonetheless. You drove to his location, and you found yourself shocked when you found smoke, fire and the smell of gasoline among a lot of government agents and military personnel. You found Leon sitting in the back of an ambulance, his body covered by a blanket, as he was examined by a paramedic. Not only that, but you had credentials to enter that isolated area, and the way those agents were rushing from one side to the other, talking on their phones, made it clear that someone important had died. You made your way towards Leon, not daring to look around, and when you reached him, you saw tears in his eyes. You hugged him tight, like you were holding the world in your hands.

“It’s ok, I got you” you said to him, your words full of assurance and kindness.

Leon refused to be taken to the hospital; instead, he asked you to drive him back home, since he felt he couldn’t do it on his own. The ride back to his place was silent, and you decided to respect his space, although you saw him trying to find solace in something real. He couldn’t stop playing with his finger, showing an elevated level of stress and anxiety. You have never seen him like this before.

“Can you stay?” Leon suddenly asked when you pulled over in front of his house. “I… don’t want to be alone”

“Yeah, sure” you nodded, noticing how vulnerable he was, which was odd.

You heard him groaning in pain once he got out of your car, but he refused your help, insisting he was fine. Knowing him well at this point, you gently held his hand, offering nothing but your support, and Leon quietly appreciated your effort. You helped him sit on his couch and heard him mutter something only he could understand. Judging by the look on his face and the way his hands were still shaking, you knew he was in shock.

“Do you have any first aid kits or something?” you asked him, hoping you would gain his attention.

“I’m fine” Leon replies, his eyes fixated on his shaky hands. You sat next to him, holding his hands and scratching his skin softly.

“It’s ok not to be okay." Your voice is almost a whisper as you look into his blue eyes. “You don’t have to be tough all the time”

You saw him reach the breaking point.

Feeling embraced by your kindness and safety, Leon finally allowed himself to feel his emotions — the same ones he fought hard to bury deep inside him — in the same place he swore he would never visit again. In the cozy atmosphere of his living room, having nothing but you as solace, the brunette agent gave himself a break, and when he did that, his eyes started to get watery.

After Raccoon City, Leon shut himself up so he wouldn’t be hurt ever again. He used to keep his emotions contained; he used to not think of them. He kept everything bottled up, because he knew he couldn’t handle it. Leon was so traumatized that the way he dealt with his feelings was to pretend they didn’t exist, in the first place. After Spain, it got worse. Nightmares after nightmares, the paranoia of still being infected with Las Plagas, everything that came after this.

But here you are, telling him that it is ok not to be okay, that he doesn’t have to be tough, and that it is okay to feel and to be vulnerable. He couldn’t stop sobbing; his hands were still shaking, but he didn't even care about this at the moment. Gently, you started to play with his hair, your fingers slowly going up and down on his head, providing comfort and care — exactly what he’s been missing his entire life.

“I lost them all” Leon started to say through sobs. “I saw them dead”

“It wasn’t your fault” you assured him with calm words.

“I failed them," he says as he looks at you, his blue eyes shining with tears as they fall through his skin.

“That’s not true. You didn’t know the car was about to explode or whatever happened there” You tried to calm him down.

“We were watching him; it was my responsibility to make sure they would be safe… it was my job to ensure that” Leon sobs again, and you can see he’s struggling to breathe due to his anxiety attack.

“Listen, you’re too nervous right now. Come on, take a deep breath with me” you said, hoping he would listen and cope.

Leon nods between sobs and takes several deep breaths to try to calm himself down. You took a glass of water and gave it to him, then you took his hand into yours, whispering words of assurance and kindness. You decided to put him to rest, and it wasn’t necessary to drag Leon into his bed; the moment you step foot inside his room, you can see how severe his depression is. Successfully, you were able to lay him down and remove at least his boots. Leon curled into his blankets and muffled his sobs with his pillows.

“Do you want me to stay here until you fall asleep?” you ask, sitting on his bed with him, moving his hair from his eyes. He nodded silently.

Slowly, his sobs turned into sniffs, and Leon finally fell asleep. It took almost an hour to calm him down completely, but now he was safe and sound into a peaceful slumber, or what appears to be. You don’t recall exactly when you fell asleep on his bed, but you certainly remember when you woke up to the sound of his screams. Leon never told you about his nightmares, and you weren’t expecting that. His chest was drenched in sweat, and he seemed like he couldn’t breathe. His eyes were filled with fear, and he was shaking head to toe.

“Fuck” Leon mutters, his hand running through his hair.

“What happened?” you ask him after turning the lights on.

“Just a nightmare…” he whispers, trying to calm down again.

“How frequent are they?” It was a bold question, but you needed to know.

“Every night” Leon ignores your glance, focusing on his shaky hands again.

“Here, drink it” you give him a glass of water with sugar to calm his nerves. You already had that glass with you the moment you went with him to his room.

“Do you even like me?” Leon suddenly asks you.

“What do you mean?”

“You’re so kind, beautiful, and young, with so much in your future” Leon sighs heavily. “Why would you be with a… broken man like me? I have nothing to offer but traumas and the big baggage of my shitty life”

The pressure you put on biting your lip was so intense that it was enough to cut your skin and make it bleed.

“Who says you have nothing to offer? I don’t think that’s true. You’re a wonderful person, Leon. I can see it every day when you come to see me at the store. The way you smile whenever you are around me, the way your eyes shine…” you said to him, hoping it would be enough to give him some comfort. “I don’t see you as a broken person or a man with the baggage of a shitty life. I can’t imagine what must have happened to you, and I know it must be difficult and hard because that's what I see, but, Leon, the darkness around you doesn’t define who you are. Whatever life did to you, it doesn't dictate your present or future."

No matter how many kind words you say, it isn’t enough for him. Leon blames himself for what happened, and you know he won’t forget it so soon. How can he? Those men trusted him and followed him, and now, they’re all dead. Leon thinks he should’ve saved them, even though he knows he couldn’t guess the car was about to explode.

“I wish I could heal your soul so you wouldn’t suffer anymore, but I can’t” you sigh, then look at his hand. “I wish I could fight all of your demons, but I can’t do that. I’m here and I don’t intend to leave you alone”

After holding his hand, it was the first night Leon actually slept without any more nightmares. When he woke up the next morning, he felt his eyes heavy and he instantly remembered how he cried the night before after his entire squad was murdered. Then, he also remembered that you were there with him the whole time. Finally, he noticed how strange that feeling was - the feeling of being comforted instead of comforting others. It was a strange feeling indeed, but it was a good one.

Lazily, he stood up from his bed and decided to look at himself in the mirror, washing his face and taking a moment to see the collateral damage caused by the bomb. There were a few bruises and cuts on his skin, but huge purple marks on his shoulder, which he dislocated. It still hurts, but it’s enough to keep him in the real world. He’s still alive.

“Morning, princess” you greeted him in his kitchen. “I made breakfast”

“You shouldn’t worry about that, y’know?” Leon says, leaning against his cabinet.

“Too late for that. Now is my job to worry about ya” you said, opening the cabinet above your head on tiptoe, which made him smirk. “Are you feeling better?”

“Yeah, I guess so” he says, nodding his head and helping you get the cornflakes. “Thank you… for sticking up with me last night”

“You know I care about you, right? Since day one” you glance at him with a warm smile. “I really do”

“I care about you, too” Leon blushes slightly. “More than I can tell”

You know Leon pretty well at this point and you know he has trouble speaking of his feelings. You know he can’t express himself properly, and you ain’t stupid. You know someone has hurt him before and you understand why he is the way he is. Fortunately, you are very patient, and that’s enough for now, because you don’t mind giving him time and space.

“I can look at your wounds; maybe I can help” you offered, finishing preparing the breakfast.

“This means I finally earned your secrets?” Leon asks, a small smile on his lips, as he references the conversation you had with him a few months ago.

“You surely did." You nodded, smiling. “Let’s eat first, then I’ll take a look at it”

Leon seemed to enjoy the breakfast you made for him, and, for the first time since you two met, he genuinely seemed happy. However, you knew deep inside he was trying and fighting hard to hide his true feelings; losing his squad certainly shattered him inside, and caused more damage to him than you could ever imagine.

Leon is a master when it comes to hiding his feelings. All over the years, Leon had built around himself an impenetrable shell, not allowing anyone to get closer, and all of that because he is scared of being hurt again. However, if the explosion never happened, if his men never died the way they did, Leon wouldn’t be pretending he’s fine when you know he’s not. The damage is so intense that you’re afraid he won’t recover. It’ll always be there with him, rotting inside him.

You weren’t expecting so many wounds all at once, but when he took off his shirt and you saw his bruised skin, you took a deep breath. He had so many marks, so many stories. You wanted to ask, you wanted to know, but Leon wasn’t ready to share it yet.

“I got this one back in Raccoon City” Leon quietly says, pointing to the scar on his left shoulder. “I got shot”

“How did this happen?” you decided to ask him as you gently cleaned a few cuts he had.

“I was helping a woman named Ada Wong to get a sample of G-Virus, and only a scientist named Annette Birkin had this sample. We were trying to find her and, when we did, she started to shoot Ada. I jumped in front of her, that’s why I got shot” Leon sighs, recalling the events that happened in the sewers.

“This Ada seems very important to you” you smiled at him, cleaning the other cut he had on his neck.

“She was, but it was a long time ago” Leon avoids your gaze. “Not anymore”

“She was the one that hurt you?” you ask him very carefully.

Leon didn’t answer, but his silence speaks for himself. You can see the extension of the damage and how Leon still struggles to deal with whatever happened between him and Ada. He stays silent, maybe trying to understand how his life turned into this mess. Then, he starts to count every time he was betrayed before until this very moment. His blue irises meet yours and all he feels is… peace. There’s no inner storms inside him, he feels completely at ease.

“If I ask you a favor…” Leon suddenly says, changing the conversation.

“What do you need?” you ask him without hesitation.

“Could you come with me to the morgue? There’s something I need to do” Leon sighs, preparing himself for what’s about to happen.

“Of course. I’ll tell my parents I’ll go to the store later” you nodded, quickly picking up your phone to text them.

Leon partially felt guilty, but you were so willing to go with him that he changed his mind after you helped him dress himself — the way he dislocated his shoulder still hurts and he has difficulty with it. You drove to the morgue and judging by the interior of the building, you found out Leon was some sort of agent working for the government. You were able to read the name of the organization. Division of Security Operations.

“So you’re a badass agent, huh?” you ask with enthusiasm as you walk next to him.

“I wouldn’t say I’m a badass” Leon chuckles, still feeling tense.

“Well, if you put your neck at stake to save your country, then you’re definitely a badass” you added, giving him a warm smile.

When you both stepped inside the morgue, he reached out for your hand, seeking any support you could give him. The back wall was a box-shaped cold storage room, and a row of dissecting tables lined the spacious room. And on those dissecting tables were numerous body bags. It's a body bag with the DSO logo on it. Do they really need a logo even on something like this? Irony floated within Leon's chest. Are they planning to sell products with the logo on them, like DSO-branded body bags, DSO-logoed cigarette cases, DSO-logoed pass cases...?

He walked between the body bags to the sound of his boots. Unlike normal bodies, the victims of b.o.w - related incidents were usually sent for examination to specialized research institutions. Although this time the cause of death was due to a bomb, not a zombie attack, the instruction from above was to send the bodies to various laboratories, so they followed suit. This DSO branch’s mortuary was a relay point for passing the bodies from the scene to the laboratory, like a baton in a relay race. It wasn’t easy to simply bury them in a graveyard. The morgue itself wasn’t scary, but the corpses were scary because they stimulated the imagination.

“Would they suddenly start moving? Would I end up like this too?” Leon thinks to himself a little bit loud, enough for you to hear him.

“You won’t” you whispered, squeezing his hand to let him know you were there.

Watching the corpses closely would cause a moment where the elongated shadows would appear like monsters. However, that was before Raccoon City. He had seen too many moments where the dead came back to life.

“I’m not scared of the mortuary anymore; recently, I’ve been thinking about it a lot” Leon frowned as he moved towards the back while swirling his thoughts. He thought he heard a sound from there minutes before.

“What do you mean?” you ask him with curiosity as he approaches one of the bags.

“I was constantly thinking about death and ending everything. I was depressed and thought I had no hope left” Leon confessed, his eyes locked on the body bags in front of him. “But now… I don’t think about that anymore”

He glances at you, finally. Slowly, his eyes meet your hand while you’re holding him and there’s a small smile on his lips, then his blue irises find yours again.

“I used to be scared of the morgue… but coming here with you… is something else” Leon says next. “I couldn’t do this alone”

“I’m glad I can help” you said to him with your usual kindness.

But he stops and turns his attention back to the body bags and sighs. His entire demeanor changed and suddenly, he found himself fighting hard to keep doing this. He needed that. He owed his men at least this final goodbye.

“What kind of adult did I want to become when I was a child?” Leon thinks to himself as he approached one of the body bags.

The zipper was slightly open, and the body bag seemed like it was about to move any moment. It’s common for something that seems like it’s about to move to actually move.

Leon carelessly closed the zipper. Was it because of the sharp sound that, suddenly, another body bag bounced behind him? Inside the body bag, the zombie was wiggling and struggling. It seemed unhappy, as if it had been woken up from a deep sleep by force. Leon pulled out his gun from his holster and squeezed the trigger.

“What kind of adult did I want to become? I definitely didn’t want a life like this”

V. ACCEPTANCE

After everything that happened with his squad, Leon knew he needed time off of his office. Decided to get his mind off everything and take a break, Leon chose the Rocky Mountains in Colorado as his destination. Instead of going there alone, he thought it would be good to spend more time with you, mostly because he felt safe around you and due to the nature of his job and everything he saw, he needed to feel that safety only you provided him.

You had to explain to your parents why you would be going on a vacation, but they understood with no problems; they didn’t know about Leon because you were fearing some trouble because of the age gap, so you felt they weren’t exactly ready to meet him. How could you explain to them you were apparently dating a man eleven years older than you? It would be one hell of a surprise.

It was 9 a.m. in the mountainous area near Rocky Mountain National Park, located in northern Colorado. The national park was about a two-hour drive from the state capital, Denver. Along the way, there were several viewpoints where numerous travelers parked their cars to enjoy the scenic beauty. Even in the mountainous region of the Rockies, the mountains around this area were not exceptionally high. They were just before the tree line, covered with spruce and fir trees on the subalpine slopes. The forest appeared like a beautifully groomed brush, while wildflowers bloomed modestly, sheltered by large rocks.

“This place is incredible” you sound mesmerized by the incredible view from the hotel.

“You haven’t been in places like this before?” Leon asks you with curiosity.

“I barely leave my house” you chuckle, leaving your bag on the bed. “I just work at my parent’s store and go to college”

“It feels like I’m dating a baby” Leon chuckles, also leaving his bag next to yours.

“We’re dating, huh?” you teased, taking off your sneakers.

“Yeah, we are” Leon nods his head, smiling. “I know I haven’t officially asked you, but I’m too old for that”

“It’s fine, old man. I’m just messing with you” you said, playing with his fingers.

“Old man? Now I’m offended” Leon teases back, smiling.

“You said it first” you replied to him, your hands reaching his brown hair. “By the way… I have something for you”

Leon glanced at you, frowning. The mischievous smile on your lips immediately told him you were planning something. He sat up on the bed and kept his eyes fixed on you, waiting patiently for whatever you were about to do.

“I got you a birthday present” you said with enthusiasm, catching him by surprise. “I know I’m a few days late, but I wanted to give you something for your 37th birthday”

“You didn’t have to” Leon whispered in shock as you gave him the small box.

He unwrapped the present you gave him and found a beautiful dagger, silver and shining, also pretty sharp. Leon knew immediately that you probably paid a lot on that and he felt bad. He took a deep breath and glanced at you.

“This was very expensive. You shouldn’t waste your money with me like that” Leon says to you.

“It’s a gift. You can’t give it back” you said to him, a hint of playfulness in your voice as you insisted for him to keep it.

“That’s not fair” Leon complains, laughing softly.

“It’s pretty fair to me, though” you said to him, smirking. “It’s just a dagger, not a diamond or something related. I know your job is kind of dangerous and you might need it”

“Okay, you win. I’ll take it” Leon sighs in defeat. “About my job… I know I haven’t been extremely open about it, but…”

“It’s okay, I don’t want you to feel forced to share this with me if you don’t feel ready” you stopped him before he could finish his sentence.

“I wish I could be more open to you” Leon glanced at his hands, feeling bad because of that.

“Start simple and small. You don’t have to tell me absolutely everything at once” you placed your hand on his shoulder, petting him.

“Simple and small? How could I do that?” Leon frowned at the idea. He always thought it was impossible to open up about his trauma.

You pondered for a few moments, thinking about a way to help him talk about his issues in a positive way.

“Start with something like… why don't you like dogs?” you suggested. A while ago you noticed Leon had a certain aversion to dogs.

“I… um… I was attacked by dogs in Raccoon City. They weren’t common dogs, they were infected, something like that” Leon found himself surprised by the way he spoke about this issue so easily. “Then, at Spain, I had a few encounters with wolves also infected with a parasite, monstrous things”

“See? That one was pretty easy” you said, encouraging him to keep talking. “Wanna try to say something else?”

Leon thought about your question for minutes; inside his head, everything that has happened to him was like an endless movie. The trauma, the pain and the events that seem to be haunting him to this day. It was hard to pick one, but then, he reminds himself of your words of being simple and small. He takes a deep breath and quietly, he convinces himself that he can do this.

“Back at Raccoon City, it was my first day at the force and I was 21 at the time” Leon starts, his eyes focused on something else. “I was late, but I think that’s why I’m still alive”

While he was telling you the horrors he saw, you gently placed your hand on his, to let him know you’re there for him. It was a simple and kind gesture, but for him, it meant the world. Leon was only familiar with danger and brutality, so having you by his side providing comfort was enough to penetrate the depth of his former persona. It was enough to rescue the rookie cop buried inside those walls.

“After that night… everything changed. I’m here because of what I did to survive and I’m not exactly proud of it. I can’t stop blaming myself for my past actions, but…” Leon suddenly stops, taking another deep breath.

“You can’t control everything around you, Leon. And not everything that happens to us is our fault. You couldn’t know you were going to be stalked and nearly killed on your first day… you didn't know that there was a virus outbreak in Raccoon City that night…” you said to him, placing your hand on his shoulder. “You need to understand that this isn’t your baggage to carry. What happened that day wasn’t your fault”

Leon had your words playing on repeat inside his head. Even though he was early in the morning drinking his sorrows away, he was still thinking about what you said. He also felt partially guilty for leaving you asleep in the bed while he was drinking, but the other part of him told you knew him pretty well and you wouldn’t be judging him for this. His head was a roller coaster and at this very moment, he wasn’t at the top.

Leon sat on the first floor of a lodge-style hotel in the rural town. The hotel was two stories tall, made of reinforced concrete, but designed to resemble traditional log construction. There was only one waiter and one chef, making it far from a trendy establishment — a rather run-down place. He was having breakfast in the first-floor restaurant. Though the restaurant wasn't popular, the food was decent. Approaching footsteps came from behind him — two sets of them.

"--To come fully armed to such a peaceful town," Leon said without turning around.

"Leon S. Kennedy, the ace of the DSO, a special agent organization directly under the President of the United States," a voice replied.

Finally, he turned around to see Chris Redfield and Rebecca Chambers standing there.

"Chris and... oh, the renowned expert in biohazard research, Professor Rebecca Chambers. What do you want?" he asked.

"It's work. Cooperate," Chris said in an uncompromising tone.

Chris and Rebecca sat across from him. And it was noticeable that he wore an annoyed expression.

"I'm on vacation."

"...In the past, while protecting the President's daughter, Ashley Graham, you fought and annihilated the cult group Los Illuminados. They were using special bio-organic weapons called Plagas," Chris said.

"I've forgotten about that old stuff," Leon replied simply.

"Do you plan on loafing around in this town for another week?" Chris asked.

"I don't know what will happen in the future," Leon retorted.

"Beer, please," Rebecca chuckled at the reference to an old movie, while Chris wore an unamused expression.

Leon called over a passing waitress with a casual wave to place his order, but Chris interrupted him.

"Cancel the beer."

"No, it's not canceled."

“Come on… what the fuck?!”

"I don't need any more alcohol."

"Cut it out. What's going on?"

"That's my line."

The waitress looked between the two of them suspiciously and before walking away. Eventually, Leon pulled out a flask from his back pocket and took a swig as a substitute for the additional order that couldn't be fulfilled.

"You–!" Chris leaned forward.

"Enough, both of you," Rebecca interjected. "--Leon. We apologize for disturbing your vacation. However, we need the information you possess," Rebecca said.

Finally, Leon showed a willingness to listen.

"...What's the situation?" he asked.

Chris and Rebecca had to explain to him what happened earlier at the university. The case was simple. Glenn Arias was a new threat and they needed to stop him at all costs. However, they didn’t know how Leon was suffering inside; they couldn’t know about the recent events. Leon wearily intertwines his gestures and continues,

"Just before I took my vacation... I was involved in a DSO mission in Bethesda to apprehend a treacherous senator who was selling internal information to a bioterrorist organization."

The disgusted irritation was evident in his movements, his expression, and his voice.

"You know..." Leon begins. "Here's the thing: the informant we used betrayed us. We fell into a trap instead. A massive explosion killed many of my colleagues... and then there was the incident with the resurrection of the corpses you guys were involved in... It's all a mess,"

Leon explains, letting out a heavy sigh. It's a sigh that escapes unintentionally, like a burden he carries.

"I had planned to become a police officer in Raccoon City. It was my dream job. But on my first day, there was a massive zombie outbreak, and from there... it never stopped," Leon pauses and shakes his head. "I've been fighting this whole time. There's no end in sight, and it only keeps getting worse. Have I been living just to fight zombies and the people who create them?"

"What are you trying to say? That you don't want to cooperate with us?" Chris asks.

"It's not that..." Leon's tone is uncertain, "Well, maybe it is."

With a hesitant tone, Leon continues

“What exactly is our goal? How far do we have to run? Do we have to keep running endlessly? The villains keep coming, one after another, while the good people keep dying. Maybe it's better to lose our minds."

Then, Chris found himself forced to explain to Leon what they were facing. He showed pictures of Cathy White, the agent that was turned into a bio-weapon. And worse, her son she killed. He showed the photos taken during the autopsy and how Glenn turned people into something else purely because of power.

"Killing him is the goal," Chris declares.

"That's only your goal, not mine," Leon retorts, his voice filled with resentment.

Tension fills the air between them once again.

"Hey," Rebecca interrupts, breaking the silence just as she did before. "So, Leon, you're exhausted," Rebecca points at Leon and then gestures to Chris. "And Chris, you're frustrated. There's one thing both tired people and irritable people have in common."

"What do we have in common?" Chris asks in response.

They both look at each other with a wide-eyed grin.

"You only think about yourselves," Rebecca replies.

"I–" Chris tries to interject, but Rebecca continues.

"Chris, all you talk about is wanting to kill Glenn Arias. After helping me, you didn't say a single word mourning the sacrifices of our colleagues. Leon, you're acting like a college student in their moratorium period. People get tired of running. But if we stop running, more people will lose their lives."

Rebecca takes out a trigger-activated needleless syringe from her small bag. In front of the bewildered duo, she abruptly presses the syringe against her left forearm and pulls the trigger, causing her blood to collect in the test tube attached to the syringe.

"I'll tell you something important. We're already infected," she says.

"What?" Leon's expression tightens in response.

Rebecca continues speaking in a tone reminiscent of a teacher addressing a poor student.

"The truth is, it's difficult to estimate just how many people have been infected by Arias' new virus. The problem is, we don't know the identity of the trigger that activates it."

As she speaks, Rebecca removes the test tube from the syringe and seals it with a cap.

"The virus is activated by something only Arias knows. When that happens, the dead rise, and living humans become bio-weapons."

Rebecca glances lightly at Leon.

"If things continue like this, this city will eventually become a living hell. There won't be any safe places."

Leon remains silent, averting his gaze.

"Just so you know, a prototype of the antivirus has been developed," Rebecca says. "It actually worked on me. However, the effectiveness of the antivirus is unstable without knowing the conditions for the activation of Arias' virus. When to administer it and how long it remains effective..."

Rebecca then places the sealed test tube into a small protective case and puts it on the table.

"My blood should provide valuable data. If I die, make sure it reaches a reputable research institution that you can trust."

"You're not in danger. We'll protect you," Chris says firmly.

"What?" Leon asks, confused.

"It seems like you're misunderstanding, BSAA soldier," Rebecca lightly dismisses Chris's assumption.

There’s a slight smirk on Leon’s lips as he hears that.

"The forefront of pandemic response is not the BSAA, but the research field. How many doctors and colleagues do you think I've seen die in conflict-ridden African countries or small Middle Eastern nations used as testing grounds for bio-weapons?" Rebecca questions.

Chris tries to say something in response, but his voice gets stuck in his throat, and only faint breaths escape.

"After I left the team, you two might have fought against plenty of mad scientists. But science can only be countered with science. Unless benevolent technology advances, we will never have a chance of winning. We fight not only for ourselves but for others. Have you both understood at least a little of what I'm saying?" Rebecca asks.

She stands up and adds, "Cool your heads," before leaving her seat.

"She's a great woman," Leon comments.

"We can't handle it on our own," Chris remarks, watching Rebecca leave, and he and Leon exchanged a wry smile.

And then, here it comes. The urge to talk about what happened one year ago.

"Leon, China was tough," Chris says, referring to that incident.

"Yeah, it was like a zombie version of Black Hawk Down." he nods in response.

"At that time, I wanted to quit the BSAA so badly," Chris admits, surprising Leon, "After getting involved with Umbrella, I witnessed too many deaths. We..."

Chris trails off. His expression was heavy, as if lead had settled in the depths of his heart. Then Chris realized: Why does it make me so angry to see him like this? He was too much like his old self.

"It makes you want to quit... makes me want to quit," Chris says, emphasizing his point. Leon falls into silence. And Chris delivers the final blow. "But, the moment we quit, all of our subordinates and friends will have died in vain. We are the survivors of Raccoon City. We carry that burden."

Chris falls silent, and the air becomes still. The waitress looks annoyed by the silence. For a few moments, there’s nothing but the said silence.

"Leon, I always thought you were a cheerful guy no matter what," Chris breaks the silence.

"No one is like that," Leon replies, “Well… I’m not. I've always been a stress-tolerant guy. I've been able to do what I've done because of it. But now look back on it. In Tall Oaks, I killed the president.”

"Technically, you had to save the President infected with the virus," Chris quickly adds, trying to provide some context.

“But,” Leon shakes his head, "But the fact remains that I pulled the trigger, I shot him, and I was even suspected of assassinating the President afterward. Although I managed to clear my name, the mastermind behind that incident turned out to be the President's aide. The DSO was once called the 'Sword of the President,' but now it sounds ironically fitting."

Chris remains silent, attentively listening to Leon's words.

"Chris," Leon continues. "I've returned to active duty, but every time I face the new President, I feel anxious. I can sense his unease as well. The President's aide had sold his soul to B.O.W. terrorism. Who's next? The Secretary of Defense? The Vice President? What's become of the foundation that supports the soldiers in the field? They keep using us, while the higher-ups continue to flounder, grow bloated... They only think about shifting blame onto others."

He pauses for a moment. There’s so much pain.

Leon furrows his brow and lowers his voice. "Perhaps the reason entities like Umbrella persist is that our society harbors a fundamental evil... I can't help but feel that way now."

Even agreeing with this stupid mission, Leon can’t go without saying goodbye. He feels guilty, but the moment he sees you, everything feels completely right. He sat at the bed, watching you perfectly asleep, imagining what kind of dreams you were having. Leon sighs and shakes his head.

“Hey, sweetheart” Leon says when he sees you waking up.

“Hi” you whisper, rubbing your eyes.

“Listen… something happened and my colleagues need me. Will you be okay here?” he asks you, his thumb trailing your cheek.

“Will you come back?” you ask him, sounding a little groggy.

“And leave my baby girl here all alone? Of course I’ll come back” he smiles sweetly at you.

“Ok… I’ll be here” you nodded your head, closing your eyes to go back to sleep.

Something about you made him see, for the first time, the bright side of things. Maybe it was the fact that you were younger than him, and also the fact that you were full of energy - he was just an old and bitter man. But, hey, he’s learning how to cope with every shit that has happened to him.

Before you, Leon was ready to die.

He was ready to embrace death, he already had made peace with his inner demons. But everything changed when you came into his life. Suddenly, he thought he could live and find happiness and death wasn’t in his thoughts anymore. It was like you were able to bring him back from his darkness. He wasn’t rotting inside. You were able to rescue him from himself and return the light he needed.

But if he thought he wasn’t close to death, he was wrong. Leon never thought he would face something like Glenn Arias and come close to death, but he had his job to do. Chris needed his help and Leon finally found closure to something that was weighing on his head; the death of his squad wasn’t his fault and he found the real culprit. He found the peace he was desperately looking for. And he was able to see another sunrise and come back to you.

It was a repetitive cycle. Leon recently started to wonder if anything he did was futile. That's why he took a vacation and drowned his sorrows in alcohol. It was a kind of protest, perhaps. A protest against the grand concepts of this world and destiny. A statement of "I’m not going on like this forever, I’m not going to do it," or something of that sort. But fate was cruel. In the end, human life rarely goes well by one's own choices. Perhaps humans are merely chosen by fate without their consent. Yet, Leon now felt that it was okay like that. Being chosen doesn't make him a hero by default. He becomes a hero reluctantly because he was chosen. And that's fine.

The merged form approached Leon with an eerie growl, swinging its massive fist. Leon leaped back to dodge it, and the merged form's punch shattered one of the spires on the rooftop into tiny fragments. It had the destructive power of a construction hammer, with each strike resembling the impact of a tank cannon round. Leon intentionally slid and jumped into the merged form's feet, thinking that at such a large size, close range might become a blind spot. He positioned himself beneath the massive body, lying on his back and firing his handgun. The shots were practically point-blank, but they were still deflected by the hardened muscles and exoskeleton.

"Doesn't matter," Leon muttered involuntarily. "I'll do whatever it takes, even if it's futile. Today's a good day to die anyway."

The merged form kicked out.

The enemy's movements were deceptively swift, and Leon was sent flying as if hit by a car. His body tumbled through the air until it finally collided with a gargoyle statue, coming to a stop. The impact was so intense that his breath nearly ceased. However, the merged form continued its pursuit. It threw a straight punch, a blow that would surely result in instant death if landed, but Leon managed to evade it with a jump. Not only did he dodge it, but in mid-air, Leon twisted his body and unleashed a spinning kick. His boot-clad foot connected with the grotesque face of the merged form.

Whether it would have any effect or not didn't matter. This strike was my will. Of course, a kick from a mere human wouldn't have any effect. The merged form retaliated with its opposite hand, grabbing hold of Leon.

"Gah!" A groan escaped Leon's throat involuntarily. The massive fist tightened around him like a vice, and within a few seconds, he felt himself being crushed like a tomato.

"Leon!" Chris emerged from the penthouse.

In his fading consciousness, Leon thought about you. The way you smiled whenever you were with him and the sweet perfume you love to use. The way your hands embrace him at night, helping him sleep safely, without any nightmares to harm him. And then, he doesn’t want to die anymore. Please, God, don’t let me die this way.

Chris picked up the fully automatic handgun that Arias had dropped along the way and unleashed a barrage of bullets at the merged form. For a brief moment, it seemed like the merged form's focus shifted, and its grip loosened slightly, but that was all.

Was my life meant to end here, crushed by this grotesque monster? Leon wondered, his pessimism threatens to shatter him. Leon wasn't the type to easily get this depressed or overthink things too much. Still, he felt more than a little exhausted.

What kind of adult did I want to become when I was a child? I never imagined I would be burdened with the stigma of assassinating a president. At least, I didn't want a life like this ― It doesn't matter what I want. There's no such thing as a person who can live the life they desire. Arias must have felt the same way. In the end…

VI. ABSOLUTION

When he came back, you noticed something inside him had changed.

After the fight with Arias, Leon noticed that life was much more than death, darkness and depression. At least, he started to think like that when he almost got killed. And his only thought was coming back to you. No, he couldn’t die like that and leave you alone. His arm was injured, but he was alive. And he was back.

“What happened to your arm?” you asked him when you saw him entering the room.

“Remember that day in the morgue when you told me I was a badass government agent?” Leon asks you back, sitting on the bed next to you.

“Yep, I do” you nodded, starting to massage his tense muscles.

“Well… I’m not this kind of agent. I work under the president’s orders. I fight bioweapons for a living… since that hell in Raccoon City” Leon sighs, finally opening about his job.

“Bioweapons? Like zombies and shit?” you ask him with curiosity.

“Worse than zombies, but yes” Leon nodded with a slight smirk. “It’s dangerous, and this time I nearly got killed… thing is, my job requires a lot of my time, it forces me to not be around for God knows how long. It scares me because I don’t know if you can live this chaotic life with me…”

“Wait, wait, wait… slow down” you held his hand and squeezed it softly. “Everyone deserves a second chance in life, Leon. You were alone for too much time and I don’t mind if you need to go somewhere else to fight bioweapons. If this means I get to see these pretty eyes of yours and this sweet smile every time you come home… I’m willing to live this chaotic life with you”

Leon couldn’t believe your words. After being deprived of something so human and getting used to it, Leon felt he was about to explode. It was too much for him to handle. At this point, he knew perfectly he was experiencing anxiety. But it was a good one.

“I don’t want you to get hurt. If we do this, I’m gonna get you wrapped up in something bad someday… and I’ll never forgive myself if this happens” Leon tells you, sounding extremely worried.

“I know you won’t let anything bad happen to me. And besides, I can take care of myself. I made self defense classes” you laugh sweetly, a symphony to his ears.

“Are you sure?” Leon asks, and those big puppy eyes of his wanting nothing but assurance.

“Honey, if this wasn’t true, I wouldn’t be here” you chuckled, kissing his forehead.

After what happened, you decided to introduce Leon to your family as your boyfriend. But before that, you convinced him he needed to improve a little. Getting rid of the alcohol was the first step. He started to see a therapist and work harder on his issues, which influenced a lot of your relationship. He was more happy and willing to do things he and you both liked. One year after that incident with his squad being killed and his mission with his friends, you noticed he was ready to meet your parents.

“I’m nervous” Leon tells you when you both were entering your home.

“Why? It’s not like we’ve been dating secretly for almost three years. Besides, they’ll think you’re cute, don’t worry” you giggled at him.

“I’m not so sure about that” he muttered, following you inside your parents place.

You could clearly tell how anxious he was. However, he always felt at ease on your side, and it was like you had the power to make him relax, like nothing could harm him and the world was finally at peace. When you stepped inside the house with Leon right behind you for a Christmas dinner, your parents were already expecting both of you.

“Mom, dad… this is Leon. The guy I was talking about” you introduced him to your parents with certain expectations.

“You clearly got my taste for man” Leon heard your mom whispering to you, which made his cheeks turn red.

“So… um… how long are you two hanging out?” your dad asked and you glanced quickly at Leon.

“Three years, I guess. We met at the store” you tell your parents. “I didn’t tell you before because Leon has a busy schedule. He’s not always in town, so…”

“Well, moonpie, if you’re happy, we’re happy too” your mom says with a gracious smile on her lips.

Leon wasn’t expecting to be so welcomed into your family, but the fact that your parents treated him so kindly melted his heart. He got himself thinking about the dinner for at least one week, mostly because part of him was still thinking it was weird to receive so much kindness and affection, especially coming from a real family. He wasn’t expecting to be playing cards with your dad while you and your mom were in the kitching talking about girl’s stuff, but it was enough to make him see he made the right choice. That it was okay for him to finally experience love.

“I like your light brown hair now that you finally stopped dying it” you said, sitting between his legs in the living room.

“My emo era is over” he chuckles sweetly, like a melody.

“May it rest in peace” you made the signal of the cross. “

“Changing the subject, tomorrow I gotta go to San Francisco. Work stuff” he says to you, softly kissing your neck.

“Yeah? Am I getting some gift?” you whisper, feeling the shivers down your spine with his lips against your skin.

“Do I ever go on a mission and come back empty handed?” Leon asks you, his soft lips pressing more against your neck and you can feel him softly biting you.

The thing is, Leon is like a porcelain doll. He needs to be treated with softness and kindness, because deep down, he is vulnerable. The way his lips met your skin was a clear sign that he was ready for you. He was finally ready to be yours. However, loving Leon also needed patience, and after three years, you could tell he wanted that too.

“Do you want to do this before you leave, handsome?” you ask him teasingly, holding his hands as he keeps kissing your neck.

“Yes, I do,” he nods, almost moaning in your ear.

He gently took you to his bedroom, the place was almost a sanctuary for him. He laid you down on his bed and removed his shirt, and this time, he didn’t seem ashamed of himself. You stood up from his bed and sat him on the edge, your hands trailing down his skin like he was a roller coaster. He closed his eyes, his breath soft and calm, although he anticipated what was about to happen. Leon craved for you.

“I’ll take care of you” you whispered, leaving soft kisses across his neck and chest.

You sat gently between his legs, your sweet and soft fingers removing his pants and reaching his already hardened cock. He sat there, observing you with those big and blue puppy eyes, like he was savoring your image. When you took all his length inside your mouth and gently started to suck him, Leon felt he was in heaven. It felt so good, so powerful.

Tears started to fall from his eyes and he cried. Not because you were hurting him, dear lord, of course not! It was because he finally felt that he deserved to be loved. Your tongue did an amazing job on his cock and when he came, he felt his body at ease. Leon moaned with the sudden sensation, it was stronger than he last remembered. But it was because of you.

“I love you” he says when you touch his face, wiping his tears.

Loving Leon needed patience, you knew that already.

However, living with him brought new challenges that you weren’t expecting at all. He would be gone for weeks, then he comes back out of nowhere. He always forgets to send you a message to let you know he’s coming back, but that’s okay, because his lack of patience to deal with technology amuses you. He always sends an emoji out of context, which makes you laugh and you find it very cute when he gets disappointed for misunderstanding those little and yellow faces. He’s getting there, don’t worry about that.

When he’s at home, things turn out differently. He always helps you with the chores, likes to tease you whenever you’re cooking his favorite meal and at the end of the day, you two are together on the couch watching some silly movie while he complains about it and softly scratches your leg. Sharing a domestic life was something he never thought he would have, not after everything he went through alone.

Now that he's back from whatever he did in San Francisco, you have another job to do. Tend to his injuries. It’s a small sacrifice to pay whenever he comes back hurt; this time he has purple marks all over his body and face. You don’t ask what on earth happened, because you know he can’t really give details, but at least he’s safe and sound with you again.

“Stop moving, old man!” you tell him, trying to clean a small cut he had on his neck.

“That hurts,” Leon replied back, flinching slightly.

“I know, but someone has to clean it” you rolled your eyes, applying a Barbie band-aid on his neck.

“Please, don’t tell me I got the Barbie thing on my neck” Leon closes his eyes, taking a deep breath.

“Next time I’ll get you a cat one” you wink playfully at him.

After so many death experiences and the inner wish of being dead, he’s glad that he found the absolution that he always wanted. He looks at you with amusement, part of him finds it hard to believe that he’s so lucky to have you, but the other part is glad that you are real and you love him for who he really is. You took every damaged part of him and loved with such intensity that it was enough to bring him back from that dark place he was at. He forgave himself, allowed his soul to heal and to be loved. Life had gifted him with the second chance to live, made him see the beautiful things again. You took him in when he was on the lower part of his life, and your love brought him back. He knows he’s getting older, but he doesn’t mind spending his days with you, because you are the only thing in his life that makes sense.

And he’s fine with that.

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thebibliosphere · 1 year

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(ID in alt)

Hello Tumblr! I am posting this on behalf of the Queer Liberation Library, who don't yet have a Tumblr, but have promised me they're working on it. Some of you may remember them from the Twitter Poll I was involved in a few months ago where Hunger Pangs: True Love Bites beat multiple award-winning, trad-pub queer authors with a hefty 69% (nice).

For those of you unaware, the Queer Liberation Library, or QLL, is an organization fighting to build a vibrant, flourishing queer future by connecting LGBTQ+ people with literature, information, and resources that celebrate the unique and empowering diversity of our community.

And today, June 12th, 2023, they launched their fundraiser to try and reach 15k so that they can start purchasing digital licensing for queer media and hopefully open their digital doors to library patrons across the US in 2023 with as many queer and trans books as possible.

You can check out their newly redesigned website here:

(If you are in an unsafe space and need to exit the webpage quickly, there is a quick exit bar at the top that redirects to a weather page. When I spoke to them about their web design they were also open to accessibility suggestions and are potentially working on a dark mode for those of us who need it.)

If you know me, you know I am unequivocally pro-library, both as a reader and a queer writer. But with the current rise of homophobia, transphobia, and the proposed ban on books taking hold in certain States, the importance of having protected access queer books cannot be over-emphasized enough.

The QLL aims to protect that access, aiming to provide FREE access to queer and trans media (ebook and audio) to patrons regardless of location within the United States.

They are funded entirely through regular donations from their supporters and their now annual Pride fundraiser, where they hope to afford the cost of not just library books but also maintaining their web presence and staff.

I cannot emphasize enough how much this project is a labor of love for everyone involved and its importance.

And just to clarify, I am not involved in any way beyond raising awareness. When QLL reached out and asked me to retweet their fundraiser tweets, I readily agreed and offered to post about it on Tumblr because I believe in their mission and the world they are trying to build.

One where queer and trans books can't be banned or taken off of shelves because of bigotry and hatred.

If you would like to donate to the cause, you can do so here:

They've already surpassed their first 2k, and it'd be absolutely wonderful if we could help them reach their next milestone. And if you can't give, please consider signal boosting this post.

You can also follow QLL at:

Twitter: @queerliblib

Instagram: @queerliblib

Tiktok: @queerliblib

#queer liberation library #qll #fundraising #lgbt books #queer books #signal boost

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jetii · 3 months

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Jetii's Masterlist

500 Follower Celebration Masterlist

Event Horizon (Rex x Jedi!Reader) Longfic Masterlist

This blog is 18+ ONLY! Please go away if you are younger than 18. Nearly all of my works contain adult themes, including smut. I exclusively write for clones but may expand to other SW characters in the future.

Browse the tag #roy writes. On AO3 under voidwall.

Requests are open now through September 26!

Join the Taglist | Request Guidelines | Upcoming Release Schedule | Ko-Fi

Key: ✧ smut | ꥟ angst | ✵ fluff, etc.

501st

Rex

Home is a Place on Coruscant | 10k+ | ✧꥟

Kix

The Bet | 8k+ | ✧✵

The Bad Batch

Hunter

Awkward | 9k+ | ✧✵ A Dance With Danger | 19k+ | ✧꥟ The Safe House | 12k+ | ✧✵ Always | 16k+ | ✧✵

Tech

Theory of Attraction | 10k+ | ✧✵ Piece by Piece | 5k+ | ꥟ Infinite Possibilities of the Universe | 9k+ | ꥟ ↳ The Possibility of Infinity | 3k+ | ✵ On Impulse | 10k+ | ✧✵

Wrecker

Playing Pretend | 16k+ | ✧✵

Echo

Goodbye, and Other Impossible Words | 16k+ | ✧꥟ The Way Back | 9k+ | ꥟ A Little Fun | 16k+ | ✧

Crosshair

Promises Made Part 1, Part 2, Part 3 | 23k+ | ✧꥟ Forgotten, But Not Yet Gone | 9k+ | ꥟ Lessons of the Heart | 15k+ | ✵

Misc Clones

Howzer

To the General | 14k+ | ✧꥟

Wolffe

For One Night | 10k+ | ✧꥟

#the bad batch #the bad batch x reader #clone x reader #the clone wars #masterlist #roy writes

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little-diable · 9 months

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Ragnarök - Sihtric (smut)

This was written for @whitedarkmoonflower since they won my 15k celebration as a reader! I hope you enjoy this as much as I do, lovie! Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading his, your comments keep us writers motivated! Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: After a brutal fight Sihtric can’t find his lover in the crowd of knights he fought with, praying to the gods that the female warrior he loved was still alive.

Warnings: 18+, smut, unprotected piv, a bit of angst, but mainly focused on their relationship

Pairing: Sihtric x fem!warrior!reader (1.8k words)

Picture from Pinterest, credit to the original owner

„There the dim dragon will come in flight, the glittering serpent, from Dark Mountains below. Bearing corpses in its feathers, as it soars over the plain, the Dark-Striker. Now she will sink down.“ - Völuspá: The Prophecy, Ragnarök

The battlefield was muddy, blood stuck to Sihtric’s features, arms, and armour. A sight that would leave any person who had never stood on a battlefield frightened, a sight Sihtric was all too used to. The fight had been brutal, no longer held back by rules, laws even knights would follow in battle, no, it had been awfully primal, watching men choke on their blood, swords and axes piercing hearts, stomachs, and lungs.

But even though Sihtric found a sick sense of satisfaction swapping through him whenever he killed an enemy of theirs, he no longer managed to focus on the victory he should be celebrating with his friends and brothers. All Sihtric could focus on was trying to find her amongst the still-breathing soldiers, praying to his gods that she was alive.

Panic began to swap through him as time kept ticking by, without any sight of her, the one his heart called out to, the one that had claimed Sihtric as hers many moons ago. (Y/n), the one he shared his bed with, the female warrior that had stolen Sihtric’s heart the first time their paths had crossed. He had instantly been drawn to her, admiring the fire burning in her eyes, the teasing words rolling off her tongue all too easily, she had been one of them from the first moment on, a warrior others looked up to.

Sihtric didn’t pick up on the call of his name, not caring about the way Finan tried to hold onto him, all too aware of his friend’s panicked state. The Irishman kept murmuring his name, hands covered in mud and blood, just like Sihtric, grasping his leather armour to stop his friend from carelessly stumbling over corpses of once honourable men and their horses.

“Sihtric, look at me.” Finan eventually managed to catch Sihtric’s frantic gaze, allowing the man to catch his breath as his heart raced in his chest, urged on by the fright clinging to him. “What is with you?”

“(Y/n), I can’t find her, I-” a cry wanted to claw through the once so fearless man, not used to being guided by his emotions like he was in that very moment. “Finan, where is she? She can’t be dead.”

“We’ll find her, I am sure she’s also trying to find you.” Finan let go of his friend, turning towards Osfeth with his head tilted towards his right, wordlessly trying to tell the young monk to follow the two. No further word was spoken as they combed through the endless seeming blanket of corpses, flipping some that had a similar build and hair colour like (y/n), praying every single time that it wasn't her.

“What if she was taken? Gods, Finan, I left her alone, I wasn’t there for her.” Neither Osferth nor Finan was used to hearing Sihtric speak words this uneasy, clearly struggling with the fear he was held hostage by. No reply was spoken as Finan focused on something, or rather someone, unable to bite down his smile as he forced Sihtric to look in the same direction.

With a gasp rumbling through Sihtric, he took off running, pressing his sword into Finan’s hands before he left them behind. His body collided with (y/n)’s, pulling her into his chest with a relieved sigh leaving him. Sihtric’s lips kept kissing her forehead, trying to prove to himself that she was alive, held close to his heart, not leaving him any time soon.

“I thought I’d lost you, don’t ever leave me like that again.” His murmured words left (y/n) chuckling, shifting her weight to meet his lips in a bruising kiss. They could taste one another’s emotions, tongues tangled, hearts beating in unison, finally able to breathe through their fear, their pain.

“I am sorry, I don’t know how I got lost in the crowd. I’m alright, I promise.” Her eyes flickered to Finan’s and Osferth’s approaching frames, shooting them a quick smile before she pressed another kiss to Sihtric’s lips, whispering a soft “I’d never leave you like that”.

……

The moon stood high in the dark sky, reflecting in the cold water currently teasing their limbs. Sihtric held (y/n)’s naked frame to his equally bare skin, still shaken up by the way he had looked for her hours ago, unable to let go of his uneasiness.

No words were spoken as they cleaned themselves, removing the reminders of a brutal but successful battle. Another victory men, women, and children would talk about for centuries to come, they were sure of it.

But even though the others had tried to pull the two lovers into their traps, wanting to celebrate their victory with endless pours of ale, neither Sihtric nor (y/n) had been in the mood to spend time with those they loved like their family. Sihtric had pulled (y/n) away from the crowd at the first chance, needing to feel her close with a sober mind and clear thoughts.

“I have never felt more frightened than today, the thought of finding you dead because I wasn’t there to protect you-“ Sihtric choked on his words, having to force his teeth into his lower lip to stop his cries from clawing through him. A facade (y/n) saw through all too easily, wrapping her arms around his neck to pull him down for a kiss.

The kiss wasn’t as heated, as forceful as the one they had shared on the battlefield, but it had something equally emotional to it, transmitting their every longing. A soft moan left (y/n) as Sihtric’s strong hands found her behind, pulling her against his hardening cock. She held a special kind of magic over the man, making waves of lust thump through his veins at any given chance, his very own Ragnarök, the chaotic end of his world, and those the gods had crafted for themselves.

“Sihtric,” she mewled his name, movements slowed by the river, needing a few moments till their legs finally found their way around his waist. His cock rubbed against her folds, making both hiss in anticipation, knowing that this night would yet be another one filled with endless orgasms, with their insatiable desire for one another driving them on. “I need you, need to feel you, need to make sure that you’re still here, with me.”

Sihtric forced her into another kiss as he started walking towards the meadow leading up the hill, shielded by the darkness from any drunken men and women that may find their way down to the river. A gasp managed to leave (y/n) as he placed them down, pinning her against the ground with his weight on top of hers, not leaving any space between them.

“You’re mine, my woman, my warrior, till the day I die. I’ll never leave your side again, just the thought of losing you makes me want to end my own life. No day is worth living if I don’t get to share it with you.” The words Sihtric whispered against her swollen lips drew tears to (y/n)’s eyes, staring at her man with love and longing swimming in her pupils, only ripped out of her trance as she felt his calloused fingertips on her pulsing bundle.

Expectedly he circled the soft flesh, finding enjoyment in the sounds she let go of, begging him for more, needing to feel him buried deep inside of her. There was no need for any words, nothing would ever manage to describe what they felt for one another, what they needed to do to give in to their longings.

With his eyes burning through hers, Sihtric aligned his cock with her entrance, slowly pushing into her after he coated himself with her arousal. He took his time, wanting to savour every moment, wanting to hear the gasps leaving his lover as he sank even deeper into her, still having to adjust to the stretch after all these months. And only after (y/n) managed to choke on his name did he allow himself to properly take care of her, set on a ferocious rhythm that made both their hearts race in excitement.

Profanities left Sihtric as he interlaced his hands with hers, pinning them over her head to keep her in place. He needed to control the moment, especially after a day like this, a day where he had gotten a glimpse into a future he wanted to avoid at every cost, needing to change their fate as he still had the power to do so. She was his end and his beginning, a story that had found its beginning in Muspell, the place not even the strongest souls had managed to endure, but no matter the biting heat, he’d walk through it all if it meant getting to love her.

“Look at me, Sihtric.” (Y/n) forced his piercing eyes to focus on her, feeling his thoughts start to wander as the speed of his rough thrusts momentarily began to falter, needing to catch him before he could slip into a realm filled with darkness. “I’m here, with you. Nothing and nobody can ever change that, I’m with you for as long as you’ll have me.”

With her head being lifted from the ground, she kissed him, taking over the control to flip them around, straddling his lap. Both were desperate for their release, needing to feel that blinding sensation they were aching for. Sihtric kept watching her, marvelling at her, admiring her with his hands wandering up her frame, cupping her naked breasts.

The way he pinched her hardened nipples forced her to arch her back, head rolling back to let go of a deep, gritty moan. Sihtric could have come from the sound alone, having to stop himself from giving in as he felt her walls flutter around him. He watched her fuck herself on his twitching cock, sneaking one hand down her frame to rub her bundle.

And with the call of his name, (y/n) came, scratching at his naked chest with the intense feeling racing through her body. Once again she found herself pressed to the ground as Sihtric searched for his high, fucking into her even faster than before. He came with a gasp, eyes squeezed shut, lips parted. A sight so beautiful (y/n) wanted to freeze the passing by moments, forever needing to remember this very second.

“I love you, and nothing will ever change that Sihtric Kjartansson.”

#Sihtric smut #Sihtric imagine #Sihtric x reader #the last kingdom #the last kingdom imagine

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bunny-lily · 3 months

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Tether Me - Chapter 5: Part 2

Pairing(s): Geto/Gojo/Reader Summary: Finding them wasn’t hard, not when they towered above everyone else with ease, and not when the people parted between you and them like the Red Sea. In spite of how many were gathered for the event, and the fact that the day wasn’t even about them, they monopolized all the attention without effort.

Of course, they would.

They were picture perfect – handsome, strong, alluring. They were the cream of the crop, even when they weren’t trying, and would be in any place they went to, not just within this small place you’d chosen to settle down in.

Something cold settled at the base of your esophagus as you processed what you saw.

Fairy lights wrapped around the pergola, dipping between the wooden beams to create a droopy weave, illuminating the short dais used to officiate the wedding. A swarm of tables surrounded the front of it, dozens of candles lit all about. Plates were set atop each table, and the slips of paper to indicate whose seat belonged to who had been set aside when everyone took their place earlier to feast.

Meals were exchanged for dancing and partying, filling the landscape with loud festivities.

It resembled a dream, this hazy setting and ambient glow at the center of the park.

Dozens upon dozens of people had gathered to celebrate the day – you wouldn’t be surprised if the entire village had shown up. Given how tight-knit the community was here, it was logical that everyone and their dog would come to rejoice in the special occasion. It was lively with the sheer amount of people around, each chattering excitedly, high off the triumph of two coming together as one.

Following suit of the many before you, you had slipped off your sandals, using Satoru’s hand as support while you tucked them away somewhere out of the way, but easy to find.

The grass was pleasant under your bare feet, fluffy and cool, but not so cold as to be biting.

Frequently, you would skirt your hands along the texture of your dress, preening from the delight of feeling pretty. The last time you’d dolled yourself up like this was far enough in the past for you to not remember, so you were a tad obsessed.

You manifested being sexier as you were falling asleep in bed, and here you were! Sexy was the understatement of the century – you looked hot.

Too bad you were a hint shy of showing off during a wedding in a village you’d barely begun sprouting roots in.

Satoru and Suguru had no similar qualms.

They were wholly eager to pose and strut you around on their arms like a queen. It was humiliating and exhilarating in equal measure. Acrimonious discontentment from other guests vying for your position rolled off your hydro-proof form, boosting your ego and leaving you untouchable.

It was humorous, really, to watch them fall over themselves to get the attention of one or both boys, blocked by the armor your existence alone made of them.

Good Lord, though, there were a lot of them.

You mentally tried to calculate how many of the people attending knew about Aoi’s and her fiancé’s – now husband’s – escapades through the evening. Maybe it was the whole village. You imagined it would be hard to not know; they sounded like foxes, or mountain lions, if she was in the mood to sound particularly murder-victim-esque.

You were grateful you didn't have to interact with the groom and bride much. Anytime you saw them, you remembered his bare ass on the one night you forgot about Shoko’s warning about Thursdays and learned the consequences the hard way. His half-ass (literally) had been seared into your mind.

Seeing familiar faces here brought you a comfort you didn’t know you needed, coaxing you to release your wound muscles. Granny was across the field, talking to Shoko and Iori. Scolding, more like. The old lady was tugging on the edge of Shoko’s mini dress, no doubt reprimanding her for the length of it.

Shoko could not have possibly been less bothered.

She had a drink in one hand, lit cigarette pinched between two fingers and pressed against the glass, and a shiteating smirk on her lips. You’d only ever seen her in baggy or thick clothes, but, wow, she pulled off that outfit like a model.

Utahime was hanging off her arm, three beers in and working on a fourth, using Granny’s distraction to chug away shamelessly. In contrast to Shoko, her clothing was modest, consisting of a floral-patterned maxi dress, her hair tied back into one ponytail as opposed to her typical pigtails.

You’d seen Kazuhiko, too, surprisingly. You two talked briefly, your short conversation consisting of you updating him on the state of your house and promising to show him at the next opportunity as his wife was dragging him off to socialize. His wife was hyper, enthusiastic about meeting everyone and sharing her congratulations to the couple. You envied her innocence, wishing for her to never have to experience what you did.

The sound of someone calling – screaming, to be more accurate – your name captured your attention. You spun, and found Suguru’s mother frantically waving her hands high above herself, as if she didn’t stand a head and a half above everyone else.

You grinned and waved back, then tugged on the sleeve of Satoru’s suit. “I’m gonna go talk with Suguru’s mom. I’ll be back soon.”

He and Suguru were placing bets on who would get shitfaced first between Utahime and Shoko, and barely spared you a nod. “Don’t take too long, princess!” He implored.

You vaguely confirmed you wouldn’t as you made your way to the woman, who came to meet you halfway, too impatient to wait for you to approach.

“Hi, Geto-mama,” you said, and swiftly got squished to her chest in a bone-crushing hug.

“Oh, my sweetie!” She squealed. “Aren’t you just the prettiest thing? Goodness, that dress looks amazing on you! Did you pick it out? It fits you so well!”

She spoke like a full-auto gun, babbling out words faster than sound.

“Thank you,” you rasped out, patting her back. “It was Suguru and Satoru, they got it for me.”

She grabbed you by the shoulders and pushed you back to get a good look at you. She inspected your outfit from head to toe, scrutinizing. Eventually, you gained an extra dash of approval from her, making you feel honored.

“They did a fantastic job, those two. You look gorgeous, baby girl. Even better than the bride,” she acclaimed.

You blushed. “Don’t say that! This is her wedding!”

She bent down and cupped a hand around your ear. “Forgive me for favoring my beloved girl over the bride. Those two go at it like dogs, it’s hard to look her in the damn eye after seeing her husband’s bare ass.”

You gasped. “You, too!?”

Sympathy shined in her caramel eyes. “Oh, my darling child, the world is evil to have subjected you to the sight of that man’s poor excuse of a behind.”

You burst out into laughter, Yoriko doing the same shortly after. It was relieving to know you weren’t the only one traumatized by the sight of a pasty pair of cheeks, even more so that it was Geto-mama who understood your pain.

“Think they’ll go at it again tonight?” You asked, fanning your face to keep tears from ruining your makeup. “Y’know, consummation and all that.”

“Heavens, I hope not,” she feigned a gag. “I’ll down all the alcohol here in one go if they do that in the park of all places. God forbid they do it while the party is still going. At the very least, they could have some decency to go into the mountains, far from here.”

“How many people do you think know about their, uh…activities?” You questioned, pointedly glancing around.

She stood akimbo. “Oh, it has to be everyone. I can hear them from my house, and that’s on the other side of the river. Thursday nights, we put on a movie and turn up the volume louder in hopes of drowning out the sounds. I mean, honestly, he can’t be that good at it.”

You hummed. “I thought someone was hurt when I first heard them go at it. She sounds so…”

“Scary,” Geto-mama finished for you.

“Right!?” A full-body shudder went through you. “I didn’t know people could sound like that.”

She sighed and shook her head, choosing to move the topic over a few notches in a safer direction. “Well, aside from all that, how are you enjoying the wedding, sweet girl?”

“Unexpectedly fun,” you said. “I’ve only been to two other weddings in the past, and they were boring to the point of pain. Nothing to do, y’know? I wasn’t anticipating this one would be a borderline festival.”

“Everyone works together to make weddings memorable around here. We’re all one big family, in a sense. Their joy is our joy,” her lips pulled up into a motherly sort of fondness, directed at you. “You’ll see when it’s your turn, baby girl. I’m glad you came, I was worried you’d be overwhelmed. You’re always welcome, you know?”

You didn’t want to disappoint Yoriko by telling her you wouldn’t be getting your own turn. Instead, you looped your arms around her waist and squeezed. “Thank you, Geto-mama. I’m happy I got to see you today!”

She patted your head. “Likewise, sweetheart. Now, off you go! I’m sure the boys are missing you, I’ve kept you long enough.”

Releasing her, you stepped back, beaming at her. “It was good to see you! We’ll talk more soon?”

“Absolutely!” She agreed and made shooing motions with her hands. “Go, go. Don’t keep them waiting!”

Taking her advice, you faced the party and sought them out. They weren’t where you last left them, likely having moved around to mingle and share in the merriment. You stood up on your toes, searching for either ivory or obsidian tresses.

It didn’t take you long.

Finding them wasn’t hard, not when they towered above everyone else with ease, and not when the people parted between you and them like the Red Sea. In spite of how many were gathered for the event, and the fact that the day wasn’t even about them, they monopolized all the attention without effort.

Of course, they would.

Something cold settled at the base of your esophagus as you processed what you saw.

You wished you hadn’t seen them.

You wished they were hidden so that you’d have to push through a crowd to find them. Maybe then, you would have been too close to realize. If that were the case, you would have had a chance to stop what was unraveling in slow motion before you.

They were surrounded by a group of girls – beautiful girls – each one fluttering their thick lashes and puckering their merlot-painted lips. You could hear their obnoxious, high-pitched giggles from clear across the field, over the music and yammering and the droning spring air. One grabbed onto Suguru’s arm, hugging it so tightly between her bust, you thought she might cut off the circulation in his fingers between her tits.

Instead of pulling away, he tipped his head down and said something you couldn’t decipher from attempting to read his lips alone at this distance, to which she laughed.

Something uncomfortably tight formed in your chest, a twist centered beneath your breastbone. It pinched, stung; a poisoned needle shooting straight into your stomach.

Paper lanterns.

A knife had wedged itself between your innards too snuggly, the exact same temperature as the rest of your body, the only proof of its existence being the displacing sensation of your intestines and the spreading chill that zapped under your skin like instant ice. The pit in your belly dropped to your heels, heavy as a sack of sand.

Your fingertips trembled, frozen over and stiff and numb, regardless of the warmth that they contained mere moments ago.

You felt sick, and you didn’t understand why.

It came on so suddenly that you never would have been able to avoid it, even if you knew it was coming. The rotting sensation burrowed itself deep into your gut, impossibly dense and suffocating. Its hands crawled up your insides, wiggling between your ribs and lungs to wrap spindly fingers around your throat.

Satoru winked at the lady in front of him.

Those fingers squeezed.

You got the inkling that they didn’t want you to be their date for the sake of, well, being their date. For the sake of laughing, dancing, eating, and drinking together. For being with each other, with your friends, cherishing the evening by toasting and clinking glasses and sharing stories. For meaning something to one another.

It was for the sake of keeping annoyances off their backs.

The women only flocked to them as soon as you left for a few minutes. Together, the three of you were unapproachable, and you were unbothered by the vile, envious glares pinned on you. Hell, you found it funny.

Now that you were gone, their shield had been removed.

This wasn’t about you and them, it never was. It was only about them.

In a trio, there’s always a duo.

It was your fault for getting greedy, for deluding yourself into believing you were more to them than a barrier. You had nobody to blame but yourself for the clawing sensation creeping up the column of your gullet that forced saliva to flood your mouth, lest its acid slip out.

Respiring felt so difficult, like trying to inhale through a straw, each gasp shallow and dizzying.

You siphoned a thick breath in, a quivering thing, and immediately regretted it as a wave of nausea coated your insides, choking you, sitting on your epiglottis.

Disgust curled in your gut as the girl attached to Suguru’s arm leapt up from her tip-toes and planted a kiss on his cheek – one that left a stain in bright red in the shape of her lips, vaguely love-shaped.

She marked him.

She marked Suguru, who hated the feeling of anything sticking to his skin. Suguru, who hated having his personal space invaded. Suguru, who hated excessive affection.

Suguru, whose lips curled upwards.

Suguru, who gave the peppy girl that smile, the one you adored so much, the one that always lifted your spirits and made you feel safe and seen.

The one you thought he only gave you.

Suguru, who shattered your heart.

Tether.

Something in you fissured, then simply broke. The stilts holding you up hewed, sending you careening towards the ground with no way to catch yourself.

The winds died, the gales gave your fragile wooden frame one last, harsh clap, and you were falling.

Kite.

You couldn’t stand the suffocation anymore, couldn’t stand to see them be so inviting and enticing to everyone. You feared you’d throw up if you stayed any longer. What you had already seen was soldered to your consciousness, engraved behind your eyes so that every time you closed them, you saw Satoru and Suguru, basking in affection.

Forgetting you.

Nobody noticed you walking towards the edge of the plain, where you had left your sandals in favor of enjoying the soft grass under your soles while you pranced. Your sandals were in the same spot you left them, amidst the ocean of others.

For some reason, they were abnormally strenuous to put on. Your fingers vibrated viciously, frustrating you as you shoved your feet into them and tried to slip the ends of the straps through the buckles.

You cursed under your breath, struggling, fighting. Once you finally managed, you pulled them hard, clearly over tightening them. You didn’t care. You just wanted to leave. To go far, far, far away.

The second you were certain they wouldn’t fall off, you stepped onto the road and turned towards the direction of home.

Your home, where you’d be alone.

You ignored the sharp pain of the cords digging and cutting into your Achilles tendons, too caught up in the hurricane of your emotions to pay attention to much else.

A tornado whirled through your skull, jumbling everything until you were left with a sensation of panic thrumming beneath your skin, scratching from the inside out. Words were thrown, lost, confused, but one thought shined clear as day.

Run.

The streets seemed so much darker. It had to have been your imagination, seeing as you were leaving the massive gathering, where life and light was. It only exacerbated your anxiety, urging you to run faster, break out into a sprint, leave everything behind.

The voice was back, the one that crowed and trilled and spewed acrid threats into your ear. The one that whispered how worthless you were, how you weren’t wanted, how you had to turn tail and vanish ayond eyesight. You’d overstayed your welcome.

You didn’t understand what you were feeling. Anger? Betrayal? Hurt? Fear? Plain old sadness?

You didn't know what, and you didn't know why. All you knew was that you hated it.

You had no reason to feel this way, and would not be vindicated for doing so. Why had it mattered to you to see them flirting with others? Who were they to you?

Your friends, obviously. That’s all they could be.

If that was the case, who were you to them?

…Were you their friend?

You didn't want to think about it. It made the strained clamps around your lungs constrict further, you couldn’t afford it.

The shift between asphalt and packed dirt went unregistered by you, all sensation to the physical world lost. Goosebumps raised along your arms, prickling, yet you didn’t sense it. Not the way you clawed at your forearm for a sense of stability, searching for anything to ground you.

A year.

You lasted a year.

A new record to be proud of, throwing the last one out of the water by a landslide. You hadn’t stayed in one location for nearly as long as this since you were a child.

You should have been bragging to yourself, parading with the knowledge that you might have been getting better after all this time.

All you wanted to do was die.

You hugged yourself, staving off the cold by reflex more than conscious action. The houses had become further spaced out, the sidelines blurred. Your body was moving on autopilot, unseeing as muscle memory took you the rest of the way home.

What were you doing? Thinking? You should have known this would happen. You did know, but chose to ignore it, and for what? You played yourself by getting attached when you were aware from the beginning that it would all come to an end sooner or later. You got greedy, took more than you were allowed, selfishly ripped a mile from your mind when you were offered less than an inch.

This was your fault. You were the cause of this. You became complacent. You stopped walking when you should have just kept going.

“Idiot, idiot, idiot, you goddamn, stupid bitch!” You whisper-shouted at yourself as you dug the spare key out from under the doormat and jammed it into the lock of your door, unaware of the exact timing of your arrival. The door fought against you, further enraging you.

Your feet ached, skin sore and wounded, yet it felt like nothing in comparison to the gnawing in your stomach. Your body was on fire, begging for reprieve, anything to lift the pain and mend the hurt.

You shoved open the door and angrily stomped inside, slamming a palm against the wall on your left.

Barely two steps into your home and you had all but ripped off your sandals with enough force to damage the straps. The relief of pressure off your ankles only served to aggravate the reddened and tender flesh affected by your apathy towards yourself. Exposed to air, your heels throbbed. You tried to let it anchor you, but it didn’t work.

Wrathfully moving forward, you grabbed the bottom hem of your dress and tugged it over your head and off yourself harshly. Your arm wound up to throw it, but your body seized, a shock zapping through your nervous system.

Even in distress, with your mind anywhere but a state of clarity, you still couldn’t bring yourself to disrespect something given to you.

Something they gave you.

Your hands trembled as you laid it across the back of the couch, plucked the corsages from your wrists to place on the coffee table, and you used your pent up energy on your poor bra instead. You unclasped the sucker and catapulted it somewhere with all the force you could muster, and chased it down with a long-suffering scream that tore up your throat.

How fortunate you were to live where nobody could hear you retch and sob.

Every nerve in your body felt like a spring, pressed down, ready to burst. All under your skin, live wire writhed, raring to shred through measly flesh and bone. At this point, you just wanted it to be over with. You’d let them leer and scorn as they seared through your senses agonizingly, then shut off your feelings altogether, so long as it put you out of your misery.

The tightness in your muscles made you shake and wheeze, pain jolting from the center of your chest, down your limbs, stinging in the tips of your fingers. Doing anything was a struggle in this state.

You hated what adrenaline did to you.

You hated yourself.

Gritting your teeth and resisting the urge to claw your way into your own stomach, you channeled that energy into rushing down the hall to your bedroom.

That poor door didn’t deserve to have your anger taken out on it, but you couldn’t find a shit or two to give. Not now, not when everything around you was collapsing. Skyscraper zeniths were crumbling, towering concrete monstrosities aiming to crush you.

And, hell, you’d let them.

Your dresser earned itself a beastly growl from you when you opened it too harshly, causing it to close back up. You wanted to tear everything apart, to rake your nails through wood and stone and bone and dig until your nails were broken and dirt was caked deep into your dermis. Surely, then, the pain would go away.

Clothing rustled violently, short of enough friction to start a fire by a millimeter. You scavenged, unsure of what you were searching for until your fingers closed around the texture your brain subconsciously required to calm itself.

You pulled out the t-shirt, and stalled.

It was the one Suguru gave you. Rather, the one you ‘stole’ with his blessing, but his regardless.

The black material was soft in your grasp, worn and well-loved, a few sizes too big for you. There was a faded band logo on the front of it, colors now grayscale after years of appreciation.

Your hands visibly trembled as you loosened the unfair death grip you had on the top. It didn’t deserve your indignation, your pain. It didn’t deserve to have its fibers pulled too far, to have its devotion to being a quality material shorn from it. It was a shirt, after all, not the source of your suffering.

Its previous owner was; that didn’t shift the blame to the cloth.

But, it reminded you of him.

It reminded you of what you saw at the park, the helplessness that came with having your world crumble before you even knew you were living in it, the hopelessness that came with knowing you’d never be able to rebuild it.

It reminded you of the chai he made, of the way he’d coat your clean hair with leave-in conditioner to smooth down the frizz and encourage silkiness.

The way he’d hold your hands in winter to keep out the burn of frost, the way he’d let you lean against him as he read, the way his long fingers would diligently trace the sketched pattern of your wall, painting life into it.

It reminded you of what it meant to be happy.

Your teeth clicked together, jaw jittery. You clenched it, muscles jumping in your neck.

It didn't help.

The shirt moved around in your palms, peeled open to allow it to slip onto your bare self, covering the short hairs that sprung up from the chill of being naked.

A shaky breath filled your lungs, and you pressed the heel of your hand against your sternum. Your heart thudded and wept so loudly, so angrily, so painfully. You could feel it all the way through to your elbow, hear it beat against your eardrums, taste its toxic copper on the back of your tongue.

Most of your mind had shut down to a lowered percentage of function that made everything fuzzy. You were missing time. How long you stood in your room, doing nothing, you didn’t know. You weren’t aware you had gone to the bathroom until you were partially through cleaning off all the hard work you’d put into prettying yourself up.

You stopped, staring at yourself in the reflection of your mirror.

You looked…tired. Felt it, too.

You looked like you were hanging on by your fingers, losing trust in your strength.

It was so tempting to let go.

Choosing not to waste more energy than necessary on it, you finished what you started, washing away the color and vitality from your face. Bit by bit, you lost more of who you were, and gained more of who you used to be.

Ordinary. Unmemorable. Broken.

Beneath the façade existed the truth you’d tried to cover, to pretend didn’t exist. For months, you’d succeeded in this endeavor, in playing the part of normal. It was catching up to you, and you were out of breath, exhausted, and empty.

You couldn’t avoid it any longer.

Prying your lids apart, you peered at the bottom of the mirror, meeting the unwavering, morbidly curious stare of a young girl.

You looked like her, a little. Same eyes, same curve to your upper lip, same hair color. You were older, familiar and not at the same time. Your eyes were sunken, cheeks hollow. Physically present, but not entirely there. Eyes glazed with a thousand-yard vacancy.

She peered back at you, doe-eyed with innocence and yet-to-be-abandoned faith. Her head fell to the side, little hands holding the edge of the sink to see better. Silently, she tried to pick you apart, to figure out who you were, why you shared a face, but looked so dead in comparison.

What did she see, you contemplated. Did she see hope for the future, the reassurance that she’d grow up, have her own home, be safe from the clutches of a man unloving? That it’d all be okay one day?

Or, did you break her dreams down with the reality that it never would, all without saying a word to one another?

If you could speak to her, what would you say? Would you sit her down, hold her hands, and tell her to give up while she was still ahead? Would you be brutal in your honesty, crush her with the fact that entropy was hovering by the corner, waiting to pounce on her the moment she let down her guard? Would you sit and watch as her confusion morphed into fear, then sadness, then acceptance, all without ever once showing sympathy?

Or, would you lie to her, as your mother had? Would you run your fingers through her hair listlessly, promising her a world that would never be hers? Would you promise her the Sun and Moon, knowing they’d never belong to her?

All those options, yet you stayed mute. You didn’t have anything nice to say to her, so you said nothing.

She opened her mouth, but closed it again, choosing better of it. Hopping off the stool she stood on, she moved away from the mirror and exited the bathroom, and you were seeing yourself again, as you were at present.

There wasn’t much worth examining. Exhaustion and weariness, that’s all there was.

You padded out of the room and to the kitchen, opening a cupboard and standing on your toes. Mugs lined the bottom shelf, but they all went ignored in favor of a specific one.

Your fingers closed around the handle of the ceramic you wanted, taking it from its storage. The surface was smooth to the touch, fired to a glossy sheen that protected its shape and paint.

There was a reason you wanted this one in particular – Satoru had given it to you.

He’d made it himself. He didn’t tell you how, or when he’d done that. You brought into question whether he did make it, or if he was only claiming that to impress you, as it was too well-made to have been created by a novice. Your doubts were dispelled when he had you flip it over and graze your thumb over his signature. It was stamped into the material, indented into clay before being placed in a kiln.

On closer inspection, there were imperfections in it. Bumps, ridges, the hallmarks of something created with his own two hands. Of course, you treasured it. Nobody had given you a gift like it before, and the fact that it came from Satoru only served to further your adoration of it.

You dropped a tea bag and two sugar cubes into it, waiting for the water in your kettle to boil.

The house was dark, all lights extinguished save for the stove overhead and a lamp in the living room. More would only cause you further undue pain. You weren’t sure if you could handle any more, it risked crumbling you completely.

Alertness was returning to you in pieces. You were more aware of your environment and what you were doing, the trade off being completely zoning out in bursts.

The kettle whistled, and you turned it off, pouring the liquid into your mug. Amber leaked out of the tea bag, seeping into the surrounding clearness. Steam rose up, smelling of chamomile and lavender. A suggestion from Suguru.

He was everywhere. Satoru was everywhere. Even in your own home, you couldn’t escape them.

Realization hit you like a train rolling down a hill at full speed, crashing directly into your fragile self with enough force to knock the air out of your lungs.

A teardrop, leaden and blisteringly hot, rolled over your cheek. It carved a new track for itself over your dry skin, beading downwards, following the curve of your jaw, eventually dripping off your chin after accumulating enough weight. A small ripple formed in your ignored tea, inconsequential and so, so powerful. It stirred the seas, warning of rainfall.

“You’re in love, idiot,” you whispered to yourself.

The physical realm dissipated from your perception, replaced by visions of them. The two dorks that somehow found a way into your heart, who convinced you to stay without saying a word. The days you spent together under the sun, dipping into the river, watching movies and eating popcorn. The endless amount of time they spent helping you build yourself a home, picking out paint colors and floor styles and furniture, aiding you in constructing something that was yours.

Everything around you was because of them. The Sun and Moon you were promised, dominating the skies everywhere across the world. They swallowed the world, they were everywhere you looked, at least one of them visible at all times.

Of course you loved them, who wouldn’t? They were perfect.

They breathed, and the planet breathed with them. Flowers bloomed for their sakes, the oceans’ tides bent to their wills, the stars reveled on the tracks they created as the solar system they ruled hurtled through space. It was only inevitable you’d fall for them the same way everyone else had.

You tried to laugh, but the noise that came out was more akin to a wounded animal than a girl having a grand revelation about herself.

Where had you gone wrong?

─────•(-•ʚɞ•-)•─────

Suguru grimaced at the uncomfortable sensation of lipstick residue on his cheek, immediately grabbing a nearby napkin to wipe it off as soon as the girl who left it there pivoted to smack the arm of the girl beside her. The smile he gave her was so tight-lipped and strained, he was worried he'd pop a blood vessel.

He couldn't stand the feeling of any sort of lingering texture on his skin. It made him hyper aware of the spot and caused his flesh to crawl uncomfortably. What happened to personal space? Decorum?

Basic respect for one’s autonomy? Not invading someone’s territory to toe the line of assault?

He got groped more times than he cared to count, and though he smirked and pretended to indulge the hive of bees trying to roast them alive, he was disgusted. He felt nauseous and filthy, the air stifling and sour. How much more of this would he have to endure?

“I miss our mochi,” Satoru lamented to him, not doing all that better. “What’s taking her so long?”

He scanned the field for any sign of you. You weren’t hard to spot, and you said you’d be back soon, yet it had now been…

Suguru glanced down at his watch, a frown marring his expression. Twenty minutes had passed since they last saw you. That was much longer than what he would have liked. Five minutes would have already been pushing it, but twenty? Just how distracting were these girls that the pair lost sight of you for twenty torturous minutes?

“Do you think she’s okay?” He asked the man beside him. “She’s been gone a while.”

Blue eyes narrowed as he, too, began searching the sea of heads to try and spot your hair, or the sparkle of the dress they had given you. Nothing, nada, zip. His jaw clenched, anxiety beginning to spawn beneath his lungs.

He faked a smile to address the annoying group still hounding them, pushing his way out. Though he usually loved the attention, it was insufferable to him now. “Sorry, ladies, I need to do something real quick.”

“Aww, Satoru-san, come back!” One whined, giving him an exaggerated pout.

“I’ll be just a minute,” he responded automatically, already having pointed his attention elsewhere. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and dialed your number as he walked further away to distance himself from the excessive volume of the party.

The phone rang. Once. Twice.

His head twisted in the direction of a familiar ringtone.

Three times.

By the chair you had been sitting at earlier that evening, eating with everyone at your table, your purse sat unattended.

Four times.

He stalked towards it and crouched down, mentally apologizing to you for digging through your stuff.

Five times.

He pulled out your phone, seeing his own contact displayed on the screen. You never changed it, still the same as the day he created it. ✨❤️Satoru❤️✨ flashed on the LCD, mocking him.

‘Hey, sorry I missed your call. Feel free to try again later if I don’t call you back first. Thanks.’

Voicemail.

He pulled his own phone away from his ear and stood slowly, glancing over towards the line of shoes not far from him. Yours were missing.

“Shit.”

He stuffed your phone back into your purse and looped it onto his wrist as he hurriedly made his way back to Suguru, who initially looked relieved upon seeing Satoru’s return, only for that rigid façade of his to disappear instantly.

“What is it–”

“She left,” Gojo interrupted.

Geto’s expression darkened. “She left? Are you sure?”

“Her sandals are gone. Her purse and phone are still here, I can’t reach her.”

“Fuck,” Suguru muttered, pushing his way out from the burning honeybee group, breaking from their restraints. The cries and plaints of the swooning girls had filtered into the background to the two boys. “Where do you think she went?”

The pale-haired man led the other out towards the edge of the clearing. “Dunno. Fuck, we should have been with her. What if something happened to her?”

“Let’s not jump to the worst case, Satoru. Where’d you last see her?”

He scraped through his memory, trying to recall. It was too noisy, whirring filling his mind. The last time he could remember seeing you was when…

His body spun, and he marched over to the two other people he could think to ask.

“Utahime, Shoko.”

Utahime glanced around, her expression souring upon seeing Satoru. “Ugh, it's you. What do you want?”

“Have you seen her?”

She raised a brow. “Seen who? Need a name or something.”

He said your name, and the sass in her withered away. Her distaste twisted into worry as she realized he was being dead serious. “Wait, she's not with you guys?”

“You lost her?” Shoko asked incredulously, aware of the endearment the boys felt towards you.

“That's why we're here,” Suguru said.

Her fingers pinched her chin in consideration, concern etched in her browline. “Isn’t she with Yoriko-san? That’s where I last saw her.”

The nox-haired man searched about, spotting his mother as she gossiped with her other mom-friends. “Mom!”

Unperturbed the sound level, the woman’s head snapped up, always aware of when her child called for her. She speed walked towards them, brows knitting in worry as she grabbed his hands. “What’s the matter, baby?”

“Have you seen angel?” His doting name for you slipped through in his stress.

If she noticed, she was kind enough to not point it out, recognizing the severity in his tone. She frowned. “She told me she’d go look for you boys after we chatted. She could have gotten lost? There’s many people here, after all.”

Satoru shook his head and lifted your items for emphasis. “Her sandals are gone, but her purse and phone are still here.”

Yoriko took a good, long, hard look at both boys. She saw something in their faces they didn’t know, and her shoulders slumped a few inches. Her grim expression changed into a different mien – remorse? Shame?

“I bet you’ll find her at her house,” she stated, releasing Suguru’s hands.

Suguru and Satoru matched one another, disappointment and distress burrowing in their guts. You really had left? Why?

“Her house?” Satoru mumbled. “Why?”

The older woman crossed her arms over her chest. “Normally, I’d discourage men from seeking out women when they want to be alone, but I’m making an exception for this case.”

“Alone? Do you know what happened?” Shoko probed.

Yoriko hummed noncommittally. “She probably saw something she didn’t want to see.”

“Saw something? What? What’d she see?” Satoru was becoming frenetic.

She shook her head. “That’s not for me to say. Go talk to her, boys.”

That was all the encouragement – or, rather, ordering – the two needed. They hardly spared a word to the others as they darted off, marking your house as their destination.

Questions swirled in their minds, individual and linked all at once. Why had you left? What had you seen? What the hell was Yoriko talking about, and why in the world was she so damn vague about it? She clearly knew more than they did, the least she could have done was clue them in on it.

They didn’t speak to each other, both busy in their own heads as they raced to your place, hoping and praying they’d find you there.

The streets were too dark for Satoru’s liking this removed from town, the road illuminated by the sorrowful moon hanging above. The idea of you walking alone unnerved him, set him on edge. You could have gotten hurt, or worse, or – oh, god, what if something bad happened to you? You’d been alone this whole time, and they didn’t know. Where did you go? What were you thinking?

Geto was known to be the calmer of the two. Steady, logical, rational.

He was beyond ration right now. He alternated between wanting – needing – to take you into his arms and never let go, to assure himself that you were okay, alive, there, and wanting to reprimand you for your behavior. You should have let them know, told them you were done and wanted to go home. They would have walked you, protected you, taken care of you.

He milled his teeth to control himself. He couldn’t assume, he didn’t know what caused you to leave. Hell, maybe you hadn’t gone at all, and you all merely missed each other at the party?

Suguru was the first one to make it to your door, knuckles rapping against the wood.

Satoru was panting behind him, alternating his weight between his feet, ready to book it back to the park if he had to.

There was silence on the other end, then, very faintly, they heard rustling.

Movement from inside, confirming you were here. Now, to answer the remaining questions.

They were prepared to interrogate you, but all those words died on the backs of their tongues, tasting of ash and soot, when the door peeled open.

Oh.

Red rimmed your eyes, your cheeks still damp after you tried to hastily wipe them dry, your brows wound tightly together. Confusion flickered across your features first, tailed by embarrassment.

Something did happen to you.

You had been crying.

“Angel?” Suguru stepped forth and cupped your jaw gently, thumbing away at your tearstained skin. “What’s wrong? What happened?”

Instead of leaning into his touch like you so yearned to, you forced yourself to pull back, giving a painfully fake laugh. Your voice was fraught, a little raspy, wet. “Nothing happened. Everything is fine, why do you think something happened?”

“You’re bad at lying, mochi,” Satoru refused to let you dodge the topic. “What happened? Who do we need to beat up for making you cry?”

“Gu-uys,” you hiccuped and tried to turn away further, to recede deeper into your house. “Seriously, I’m fine–”

“You’re not fine,” Suguru grasped your upper arm and pulled you towards him. “What happened?”

Your eyes flickered between his, then Satoru’s, words stuck to your palate. How easy it would be to say I wish you’d look at me and not those girls.

I want you.

I need you.

How easy it would be to just spill your heart and soul out onto the floor, say the things you wanted to tell them, but knew you couldn’t.

I love you. Both of you.

If you told them, you'd ruin everything. And then you'd have to run.

Again.

All you knew was how to run.

You didn't know how far you would make it if you lost everything you had created, grown, and made here, with them.

You squeezed your hands into fists, digging your nails into your palms to brace yourself. Focus on the pain. “I just don’t…really know anyone from the party. Not personally, anyway, so…I didn’t wanna be the odd duck out, you know?” Lie. A terrible lie, and everyone present knew it. You pushed on regardless. “Haha…would be kinda weird for the new girl to hang out at this wedding when nobody knows her. I-I was feeling a bit tired, too.”

You were aware that you were rambling, but you couldn’t stop it naturally. You opened your mouth, and it was hard to close it again.

You'd been living here for a year. It was a poor cover up at best. While it was true you didn’t know a good amount of folks on a level further than acquaintances, it's not like you were a complete stranger to these backwoods. And there were people you knew well enough to consider friends besides Gojo and Geto.

Satoru’s frown grew, but he decided against pointing out your fallacy. “But, we know you, mochi. Why didn’t you come back to us? We were waiting for you.”

“Oh,” you broke eye contact, peering elsewhere, anywhere but them. Your fingers trembled as you tucked your hair behind your ear, trying to shove out the discomfort in your chest at the reminder. The scene played in your mind all over again, of the boys talking to those girls, smiling at them, laughing with them.

You had to make yourself believe it was something else causing your ribs to cave in on your lungs.

It wasn’t jealousy. Really, it wasn’t.

But…if it wasn’t jealousy, then why did you feel sick to your stomach when you witnessed one of the girls, who was prettier than you, grasp Satoru’s collar and pull him down to whisper things in his ear? Why did he smile like that afterwards? Like he liked what he heard? Like he liked her? What did she say? Why–

You swallowed thickly, the sensation dry as it scratched down your gullet like nails on sandpaper. Your throat was too crammed, too tense, too itchy. It took all your strength to speak normally, and even then, you weren’t sure you succeeded.

“You guys were busy,” you finally replied.

“Busy?” Suguru repeated, his inflection powder soft, his eyes softer.

Don’t, you pleaded silently. Don’t talk to me like that. Don’t stare at me like that.

If you knew what that does to me.

If you knew what you both do to me.

You nodded and plastered on a faux simper, one that twitched at the corners of your lips and didn’t reach your eyes. “You had a whole flock of girls around you. Who am I t-to take the attention of the two most eligible bachelors away from them?”

Damn you for stuttering, and damn your voice for growing uneven, and damn you for being a mess. Weak, pitiful. Since when were you so mellow, such a pussy?

The boys had the audacity to let their faces morph to show their confusion, as if trying to recollect what you were talking about.

Suguru was the first to piece together what happened, if the way his eyes widened minutely was anything to go by, but Satoru spoke before he could. And more bluntly, too, of course. “Oh, sweetie,” he hushed, tension dropping from him as a grin drew up his mouth. “You’re jealous.”

You startled and lifted your hands to deny his accusation. “N-No! What? Haha, th-that’s– no, it’s not like th-at at all!”

He put on a smug mien as he crossed his arms over his chest, acting like he just figured you out.

He did, technically, but you didn’t want to give him that victory. Especially not over such a benign and childish matter as this.

“Angel,” the noiret allayed himself, delicately cupping your cheek to nudge your head in his direction. “Is that what’s going on? Were you jealous of those girls?”

Your jaw flexed. God, it sounded pathetic. Jealous over a group of gorgeous women who had more to offer than you? It’s not like either boy was interested in you romantically anyway, and you weren’t dating one or the other. You had no reason to be jealous, you weren’t owed anything.

It wasn’t fair for you to expose such petty problems to them, let alone blame them for it. They may have had your heart, but you didn’t have theirs.

Yet, your lip wobbled, your lungs refused to work properly, and your eyes welled up, anyway. Biting the inside of your cheek raw wasn’t fending off your emotions, not anymore, and you couldn’t dislodge the frog from your throat long enough to talk.

The worry in Suguru’s expression melted away, replaced with understanding and something else you couldn’t decipher. His fingers shifted from holding your cheek to curling over the back of your neck while his other hand coiled around your waist, bringing you close to him. His forehead pressed against yours and his breath fanned across your cheeks, slow and measured.

“You have nothing to be jealous about,” he reassured you with a sympathetic murmur.

The tears fell before you had a chance to stop them. It could have been the wine you drank earlier, or the overstimulation from the party.

Or, it was the way they held the glass fledgling budding in the nest of your soul carefully in their hands. They had cracked the shell casing it had, the one that protected you from making attachments. They pushed the gates wide for everyone, all the close friends you made in this village sneaking into your life without you noticing, and the boys were at the front, leading the pack.

“I’m s-so-sorry,” you stammered out, sucking uneven gasps of air past your bottom lip. Your arms wound tightly around his neck and you buried your face against his shoulder, muffling your sniffling. “It’s– it’s stupid, so stupid. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, angel. You didn’t do anything wrong,” he comforted you, rubbing your back in easy circles.

Satoru came to your side, sweeping your hair away from your neck. “You really don’t need to be jealous. We’re not interested in any of them.”

“We don’t want any of those girls,” Suguru’s deep voice rumbled against your chest. “We want you.”

Your heart stopped, broke, started, and sprouted new petals at his confession. It bounced in your head, struggling to stick, to process, to be true.

“B-But they’re–” sob, “s-so…much more. They’d do– do any-thing f-for you – hic! – you.”

“And you?” Suguru checked, his voice barely a whisper as it brushed against your neck. “Would you do anything for us?”

His question stunned you. You froze, your thoughts hovering, struggling to focus when they both were close and warm. Your head lifted slowly, eyesight blurry as your gaze flickered between them.

The Sun and Moon incarnate.

What a stupid question.

You worshiped them and the ground they walked on, a devout and zealous follower. You’d listen to everything they told you with reverence; you'd pray for them day and night, you’d water the soil with your own blood if they asked.

“...Yes,” you breathed out, finding balance while adrift at sea, a moment of peace in the cyclone of your emotions. “Anything.”

Satoru huffed near your ear and you could feel the curve of his smile where he pressed it into your jaw. “The difference between you and those girls, mochi…”

“Is that, for you, we'd scorch the earth and rend the sky without hesitation, should you ever wish it,” raven hair tickled your shoulder, plush lips hovering on the slope of your neck, brushing over your vulnerable, sensitive pulse.

“For those girls, we would do nothing. Even if they begged on their knees, we'll only ever accept your commands,” ocean-kissed eyes filled your vision, shimmering with raw, unfiltered emotion; something warm, and blazing, calling you like a moth to blue flame.

You shuddered at the vibration from Suguru’s murmurs traveling through your body. “All you have to do is say yes.”

Laying somewhere within the turmoil in your chest, your soul fluttered, yearning, hoping. “You want me?”

“We do,” they replied simultaneously.

“Both of you?”

“Both of us.”

Their resolute answer felt so unreal, so deafening in the fog of your scattered thoughts. Your fingers reached, but hesitated just before they made contact with what you so desired – as if waiting for it to be ripped away. “...Really?”

“Really,” the man holding you in his grasp confirmed, admiring you with such fondness and devotion, you’d think he was seeing a goddess, rather than the simple girl you were. He was pleading more than demanding. “Say yes.”

“Please, princess,” Satoru acted equally as desperate, and it struck you that you’d never heard him say please before, not like this.

You didn’t have to think before you answered.

“Yes.”

Suguru’s lips were on yours as the syllables were leaving you, drawing a surprised squeak from you, followed by a reedy whimper.

There was a distinct snap in your chest, the click of an unbreakable bond emerging. It made your breath hitch and your body tense up, then you melted into him, and everything felt right.

His lips were cushiony and generous, everything you’d ever dreamed of and more. They fit so perfectly against yours, the sides of two puzzle pieces slotting into place. His kiss was gentle, slow, and intimate.

You barely had a chance to delve into it by the time the other boy was tugging you away for his turn.

He was more demanding, rougher, yet entirely wonderful all the same, just like Geto. He connected to you seamlessly, aggressively, contrary to Suguru's tenderness, in a way that had your toes curling and heat pooling in the depths of your gut.

This.

This is what you had been missing all your life.

The safety and sanctity that came with surrendering to a love pure and true.

Hands were on you, everywhere, at all once. You didn’t know which belonged to who; it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered save for the way they caressed you and explored everything, leaving no inch untouched.

Calloused palms slid under the hem of your – Suguru’s – shirt, palming at naked flesh, taking what was no longer yours, but theirs.

Satoru bit at your bottom lip, hard enough to sting, but not enough to break skin, in spite of how you wanted him to. His hunger was obvious, his inability to sate himself with the taste of your mouth alone showing in the way he suckled on your tongue and ventured behind your teeth. The sentiment was mutual. You drank him in with the same fervor, needing more to settle the hollow in your stomach.

A hint of the cake shared at the wedding lingered on him, sweet and rich and exactly like the boy you’d come to love.

Love.

You loved him. You loved Suguru.

And they…they loved you, too, didn’t they?

The way Geto dug his canines into your collarbone and soothed the pricks with chaste kisses, the way Gojo moaned into your kiss like you were his oasis after years of thirst; the way the second gripped his hips with his nails, and the way the first traced the undersides of your breasts with his thumbs, all these actions led you to believe that, yes, they loved you. Beyond words, beyond what could be said and shown.

You were growing dizzy, heady with lust and the lack of air. Satoru must have noticed, as he pulled away a few centimeters, breathing each other’s air.

“What do you want, pretty girl?” He asked.

“Touch me,” you pleaded with them breathlessly.

“Shit,” Suguru groaned into the delicate flesh of your shoulder. “You can't just say something like that while wearing my shirt.”

Any quip you might have had was swiftly replaced with a squeal of surprise when Satoru hoisted you up over his shoulder casually, not breaking so much as a sweat from the effort.

“Satoru!” You squeaked, smacking his back. “I can walk, you know!”

“I can’t wait any longer,” he justified as he kicked off his shoes haphazardly and carried you off to your room.

You were tossed unceremoniously onto your bed, bouncing a couple times as you propped yourself on your elbows. From your spot on your sheets, you had the perfect view of Satoru tugging at the bow on his collar to untie it. He let the ends hang loose in favor of ardently shedding his jacket.

Suguru wasn’t far behind, and in the darkness of your room, their eyes seemed to glow dangerously.

Laser focused on you, you were trapped in their spell, and you’d never wish to break free.

Geto stalked up to you, steps deliberate and resolute, a leopard locked in on its prey. He came to a stop at the edge of your bed, planting his hands on either side of your hips. Starvation ate at the amber of his hues, black holes leaving a ring of gold between the photon spheres and event horizons.

You batted your lashes flirtatiously. “You’ll be gentle with me, won’t you?”

You sounded less coquettish than you would have liked, dyspneic and blistering hot with appetency and anticipation.

He chuckled, gruff and strained. “After all this time, I finally get to have you, and you think I’m going to be gentle with you?”

“Oh, you’re in for it now, princess,” Gojo breathed against your ear, startling you. You hadn’t noticed when he’d gotten behind you, his body heat radiating onto you. “Kept us waiting, made us chase you, there’s no way in hell we’ll be gentle with you.”

“Kept you waiting?” Confusion flashed across your face.

He huffed. “And here I thought I was dense as hell.”

You scowled at him. “Hey! What is that supposed to mean?”

Suguru grasped your chin between his thumb and the curve of his index, fixing your sights on him. “We thought you were being coy at first. Then, after you didn’t pick up on our hints, we thought we were being too subtle,” he angled your head upwards, lips ghosting over your own. “Turns out, our sweet angel is a little oblivious, isn’t she?”

He didn’t give you the opportunity to defend yourself as he was kissing you deep and hard again, stealing your breath away all over again.

It’s not like he was wrong, but you had to counter his argument.

Except, oh, he tasted so good, and the way his palms skirted your sides erased your thoughts one by one.

An unintentional whimper slipped past from your mouth and into Suguru’s as his hand slipped under your shirt – his shirt – and trailed up your side slowly. His skin scorched yours, burning so deliciously that it sent a shiver from the base of your spine up to your scalp, raising goosebumps across your arms and back.

You could feel him smirking as he kissed you, fervent fingers studying the dips and curves of your figure as they traveled up slowly, too slowly, towards where you wanted him to be. He seemed all too entertained by your reactions, the little noises you let out when he skimmed the underside of your breast, purposefully taking his time.

The moment he broke the kiss to catch a breath, barely parting, his lips still grazing yours, you keened and pleaded, not wholly sure what you were asking for. “Please, please…”

“Please, what? Use your words, mochi,” Satoru snickered, his mouth leaving a new patch of wet, saliva-slicked skin on your shoulder that rapidly cooled over the sensitive bruises blooming everywhere he planted them. ”What do you want, pretty girl?”

A whine was trapped behind your tongue as Suguru nipped at your lower lip, tugging gently, encouraging you to speak. “Fuck– fuck me, gods, please.”

“Good girl,” the ravenet grinned and immediately rewarded you by cupping your breast, pinching your nipple between his ring and middle fingers. He tweaked and plucked at it, drawing a gasp from you. “All you had to do was ask.”

Everything became a blur of flesh and clothes from there. Pants were shucked, buttons popped and scattered elsewhere from shirts ripped apart, fabric stripped from your figure until all three of you were naked in the presence of one another.

Moonlight poured into your room through your parted, sheer curtains, providing the perfect amount of illumination to see their Olypmian builds. Lean muscle molded them, impossibly strong and handsome. You understood how Satoru was able to lift you without an issue, now.

Suguru was marginally wider – shoulders broader, thighs thicker, but Satoru was the epitome of a god amongst men. Slender, athletic, ripped, mouthwatering.

You trailed down the path his Apollo’s belt created, appreciating the planes and hard ridges of his chest and stomach, the muscles of his hips, leading to…

Saliva flooded your mouth from the underside of your tongue, stinging as you took in the sight of his cock.

You debated if you were blessed or cursed, because there was no way in hell that thing was going to fit in you.

It stood tall and proud, just like its master. Swelled, curving upwards, the prettiest shade of rose that looked pale pink in the light the moon provided. A thick vein tracked from the base to the left side, and you had to forcefully swallow the spit in your mouth before you started legitimately drooling.

It was long, you were certain it’d knock the air from your lungs if he managed to get it in.

He was on you in seconds, crawling over you and biting into your shoulder to leave his crest. He sucked hard, making sure his claim would bloom into a noticeable flower for you to wear and show off. “You’re beautiful.”

His praise went straight to your drenched pussy, your walls tightening around nothing.

The baritone of Suguru’s words filled the room, an instruction raised. “On the bed, Satoru.”

If you hadn’t seen it firsthand, you would have refused to believe there was ever a time Satoru would willingly follow someone else’s directions, let alone Suguru’s. In front of your eyes, he behaved, rolling off your body to splay himself out on his back, aquamarine orbs never once leaving your figure.

The next directive was given to you. “Sit on his face, baby,” Suguru said, his inflection warning you to listen, daring you to defy him.

You, the obedient hare you were, followed his command without protest. You sat up next to Satoru, threw one leg over him, then slinked up to his face, where he laid and followed your every move, eyes of ice devoured by the impossibly dark lacunae in their centers.

You thought being over him would give you some level of control – how poorly mistaken were you.

As soon as your knees were on either side of his head, his arms wrapped around the backs of your thighs and he pulled you down faster than you could register his movements. He moved at lightning speed, wasting no time in shoving his tongue impatiently against your slicked folds and dragging it through.

His groan echoed your loud, unexpected moan, both of you wracked with sudden pleasure – him, at your taste, and you, at the addicting sensation of him lapping at your cunt like a man deprived of oxygen. Ironic, given the way he was all but begging for you to suffocate him, but you didn’t have the capacity to muse on it.

Electricity ricocheted up your spine, your synapses firing in overtime as he assaulted the hypersensitive nerves of your clit, sucking on it unforgivingly.

“S-Satoru!” You stammered out his name, one hand gripping the edge of your bed, the other tangling in his white, fluffy locks, tugging at his roots in a painful manner, no doubt. The devious keen he let out from the action told you he enjoyed it immensely, the muffled vibrations on your pussy making you clench around the tip of his tongue as it impatiently invaded your hole.

Suguru’s dusky, chocolate shades stayed glued to your form as you unraveled thread by thread from Satoru’s skilled tongue alone, his lips pulled into a dangerous smirk. “Open your mouth,” he rasped.

Your jaw dropped before he even finished his sentence.

You could see the unmitigated ardor flash in his pupils at your unquestioning submission, his cock twitching with the glee of knowing that he did this to you; that he and Gojo turned you into their brain dead beauty, eager and willing to please them however they wished.

His adoration for you was written plain across his face, mouth pouting at your adorableness. Oh, how he couldn’t wait to ruin you. He wanted to see tears glitter in your eyes from overwhelming euphoria, just so he could kiss them away and dote on you like it was the last night you’d all be alive.

Given the opportunity to inspect his manhood, you compared and contrasted it with Satoru’s. While Suguru’s was marginally shorter, it was thick, girthy, and ready to split you apart.

He perched the heavy peak of it on the pink muscle in your mouth that was dying for a sample, eager to guide it in and let it choke you half to death.

“Suck.”

He didn’t need to tell you what to do – the moment his sex was there, you wrapped your kiss-bruised lips around his tip and moved your head to take more of him into your awaiting maw.

Your power over the sounds daring to leave you had left eons ago. You whined like a bitch in heat around his length, the mildly salty and musky flavor of his pre-cum driving you mad. His piquancy tickled some deep-seeded hunger in you, a drop of liquor better than any alcohol ever made. It worsened your thirst, spawning a sine qua non for his cum to quench your thirst.

His large hand threaded through your hair, smoothing down the stray strands as he cupped the back of your head with his palm. His hold was deceptively lenient and respectful, a guiding kneading that set the pace he wanted you to adopt.

“That’s it, good girl,” he said hoarsely, laboring to preserve his composure and not drive his hips to bury his oversized dick deep into your pharynx until he bottomed out, your nose pressed to his pelvis. Not now, not yet. First, he was going to enjoy your suckling and demure kitten licks. “Doing so well for us.”

His validation worsened your arousal, turning that pulsing, throbbing pressure into a borderline painful cramping.

Fuck, you were past salvation.

God help anyone who tried to save you, because you would not let them.

You yanked on Satoru’s hair harder, gripping at the roots for dear life, and grabbed Suguru’s thigh with your other hand. The muscles beneath jumped at the contact, and you groaned. The vibrations from your throat on his cock earned you a whispered grunt from him in turn.

It didn’t seem true, you were still struggling to believe that you had one of them, let alone both.

Touching helped, solidifying the fact that they were there, with you, one eating you out like his life depended on it, while the second was putting your mouth to good use.

Tears sprung to your eyes as the head of his cock nudged deeper, but unlike before, these tears were of delight. You thrived on watching Suguru lose his sangfroid by the minute, sand slipping through his fingers that were going lax with disinterest in holding back.

If you learned they had a telepathic connection with each other, you didn’t think you’d be shocked. In fluid, synchronized movements, Suguru cupped the base of your skull to thrust hilt-deep into your mouth, and Satoru stuffed two fingers into your dripping pussy, pushing you right up to the edge of blissful collapse. His digits were long, wide, bigger than yours and capable of reaching further, of petting a spot that had you choking and gagging on the branch stuck down your esophagus.

He nipped at your clit, teeth straying too close to danger, curled his fingers to attack your g-spot, and that’s all it took for you to burst.

Your orgasm ripped through you in waves, crashing on the beach of your consciousness, addicting as it drowned you in white-hot rapture.

Suguru’s climax was set off by your muffled moaning, ropes of his cum pumping into your mouth and down your throat. You did your best to swallow every drop, mindlessly lapping it up each time his hardness stirred and twitched.

Slowly, he pulled back and allowed you to gasp and catch your breath, his length continuing to throb despite you having sucked the soul out of him.

He aided you in sliding off of Satoru and positioned you on the headboard of the bed, cooing at you for being such a good girl for them.

Satoru pounced on you, too antsy to let you rest. He smashed his mouth onto yours, tongue delving past your parted lips. You could taste yourself on him, in the way he rubbed his tongue on yours, sharing the flavor of your slick; mildly acidic, with a hint of salt and something almost bitter, but not quite.

Tang, the word hit you.

Big hands worked to hike your legs up, hooking them around that svelte waist of his, handsy and groping. The tip of his dick prodded against your fluttering, tender folds, causing you to attempt to retreat from the stimulus.

Keyword: attempt.

He latched his palms onto your waist, preventing you from running away. He huffed, voice husky from gulping down your juices. “Where do you think you’re going, pretty?”

“I’m s-sensitive!” You whined pitifully, fingers raking into his forearms, uncertain if you were trying to shove him away or drag him closer.

“Oh, baby, I know,” he purred with false condolence. “But, you can take it, can’t you? Be a good girl for me?”

Any of your pleas fell on deaf ears, your begging faltering as he notched the tip against your entrance and began pushing in, determined to fuck you dumb.

You hadn’t known it was possible to feel this full until he was bullying his length into you, inch by merciless inch, deeper, deeper.

“Fuck,” he heaved, struggling to maintain control. “You’re so fuckin’ tight.”

You were trying to stay relaxed, to let him carve a spot for himself inside of you, but that fucked out look on his face and his whiny tone had you squeezing unintentionally. He grunted and paused, air whistling through his teeth.

“Don’t do that,” he hissed in warning.

Swallowing thickly, you whimpered, jabbing your sticky palms against his hips. “Too big!”

Suguru swept your hair from your forehead. “You’re taking it so well, though, angel,” he soothed, brushing a kiss to your temple. “Come on, you can take the rest.”

“The rest?” Your eyes widened. “There’s more–!?”

You cried out when Satoru gave you one last lunge to hilt himself fully within you, hips flush to yours, symphysis knocking against your tingling clit.

Heavens above, you swore he was buried up to your diaphragm.

He pried one hand from his hip, exposing the tiny ovals that would undoubtedly fade to bruises come morning, and brought it down to the apex of your thighs. He withdrew an inch at most, unwilling to part further, and guided it down between your thighs. He pressed it against your cunt, spreading your ring and middle fingers apart to slip the base of his cock between them.

“Feel me?” He growled against your cheek, imploring you to observe how you were connected directly.

You clenched around him with a whimper at the sensation, causing him to jerk forward involuntarily, then let out a gruff laugh against the junction of your neck.

“Get to it,” Suguru frowned, restlessness showing through his typically unruffled exterior.

Satoru sneered at him. “Give me a damn minute, I’m gonna cum way too fast if you rush me.”

Leave it to his best friend to taunt him in the middle of sex of all things. “What are you, a highschool boy?”

“She’s got my dick in a chokehold, man,” he spat.

He retracted halfway and sheathed himself again experimentally, testing the waters, and he was rewarded with a moan bubbling free from you.

Hunger flashed in his beautiful, eternal blues, a ravenous desire to hear more of the sweet noises you could give him, and you knew you were in trouble.

All hesitance flew out the window for him.

Any way to describe how glorious it felt to have his cock pounding into you disappeared from your vocabulary, abandoning you with only the ability to let out a petite ah! ah! ah! each time he vanished into you and his tip bumped against your cervix.

Suguru wasn’t content to have you experiencing only one form of stimulation. Set on making you lose your mind, the rough pads of his thumbs rubbed over your pebbled nipples, the contact steering you into arching your back. You weren’t sure if you were trying to push into his touch, or escape it, your body too overwhelmed to decipher your own intentions.

Satoru was mumbling praises to you, nibbling on your jaw and the slope of your shoulder, printing his claim anywhere he could. It went in one ear and out the other, your consciousness torn between the boys as they took you apart and put you back together to fit the mold they created for you.

A pinch and flick to your nipples had you belling in bliss.

Your vision was foggy with tears, blurring the lines between night and light, sky and earth, whose mouth was on you, whose hands were compressing your flesh until it spilled between their fingers. Whether it was Gojo suckling on your breast, or Geto rubbing your clit in rapid, honed circles, you didn’t know and didn’t care so long as it never stopped.

The peak of your second climax was approaching too soon, too fast. You yourself got only a wisp of a warning of its arrival, let alone a chance to warn the boys.

“Gonna– ah! ‘M gonna–!”

Satoru groaned. “Fuck, me too.”

“Say it,” Suguru goaded you on. “What do you want?”

You lugged in a shaky breath. “Wanna cum! Please, I– ngh!”

His lips grazed your cheek. “Cum.”

The strained wire inside the burning heat of your belly gave way to a rush of ecstasy, releasing in the form of a burst of clear spray onto Satoru’s lower stomach. A bell rang in your ears, pitchy and sonorous as you jerked and shook from the pleasure.

That set his orgasm off, his hips stilling flat against yours. Syrupy streams of his cum painted your walls pearly white, never-ending as he kept cumming, and cumming, and cumming.

You were both panting, struggling for air, when it finally stopped. He pulled out languidly, hissing as his soaked cock was exposed to the air. His eyes were welded to your pussy – specifically, the thin rivulet of ivory that leaked out. Unthinkingly, he scooped it up with two fingers and tamped it back into you, enamored by your bleat of objection.

“I don’t think I’ve ever cum that hard in my life,” he confessed, sitting back on his heels and running a hand through his hair. “I get the sense that the feeling is mutual, eh?”

Geto kissed the corner of your mouth, kneading your sore chest. “You made quite the mess.”

You blushed and hid your face against your pillow. “Sorry.”

“No, that was hot as hell. Shoulda told me you squirt,” Gojo laughed, voice rough at the edges.

“I didn’t know I could,” you muttered.

He shuddered. “Fuck, you’re so bad for my ego, princess.”

You grumbled, squinting at him. Of course, he would find ways to boost his ego. You didn’t have it in you to mock him, feeling spent.

Oh, but they had other plans for you.

Your world spun as arms hooked under your body, picking you up and repositioning you.

Suguru lifted you onto his lap, setting your hands onto his pecs to keep you balanced. He placed open-mouthed kisses on the hickeys budding on your neck and collar as he pressed on your lower back to make you lean into him and subconsciously raise your hips. You were too hazy to pay any heed to what he was doing until he had the fat tip of his length poking at your entrance, seeking passage.

You jolted back to peer at him with panicked eyes. “Wait, no, not ready,” you shook your head. “‘M too sensitive.”

“C’mon, angel,” he comforted you by squeezing the outside of your thigh. “I know you can do it.”

You couldn’t argue back, your jaw busy hanging as he steered your hips down. Though you had been stretched by Satoru and were immensely slippery with a mix of his cum and your slick, there was still a hint of resistance. You held your breath, trembling as he pushed harder, urged you lower.

The head popped in, and you sank down several inches with a stilted gasp and drawn-out keen.

He inhaled sharply, burrowing his nose into the hollow of your neck, his grip on your hips crushing as he kept you in place. You were reeling from being able to take him to begin with, shaking from head to toe at the delicious sting of the stretch.

“Fuck,” he growled, poise dropping.

“So big,” you exhaled, speech staggered.

Gradually, he eased you onto him, letting you feel him in full. You clutched him like he was your lifeline because, honestly, he was.

You were too focused on not splitting apart to notice the second man in the room kneeling behind you until he broke your concentration by swiping slick from your cunt and pressing the tip of his middle finger against the tight ring of your other hole.

You yelped and whipped your head to the side, staring at Satoru from over your shoulder. “What–”

“Shh,” he nuzzled your temple, trying to distract you. “Just sit there and let us take care of you.”

To your relief, he went slow, letting you get accustomed to the sensation of one of his fingers prodding and toying with your hole. Your tenseness being replaced by breathy keens was his cue to coax a second one beside the first, the two pumping and scissoring apart. A third joined them soon, working you open unhurriedly.

Once he was satisfied, he withdrew his fingers and replaced them with his cock, stroking it a few times to smear your arousal onto it.

He positioned himself, one hand clasping your waist to keep you motionless, as if the secure snare Suguru held your hips in wasn’t enough.

“Deep breath for me, pretty,” Satoru requested.

You complied. Heeding his warning, you took a deep, measured breath.

At the same time, he pushed into you, persuading you to let him in with consistent pressure.

A protest crept its way up your voice box, coming out as reedy fussing. “W-Won’t fit,” you croaked.

“It will,” he asserted. “You can take it.”

He abated for a second, and you loosened – then, he thrust upwards suddenly.

“Ah!” You cried out, eyes squeezed shut as tight as possible. Your nails dug into Suguru’s shoulders, deep enough to etch crescents into them, but he only crooned and rubbed his thumbs under your ribs to soothe you.

“You’re doing so well for us, angel,” he murmured to you, pressing tiny kisses to each corner of your mouth. “Taking us so well.”

They both grunted when you clenched down at the revere and Satoru placed his forehead against the curve of your trapezius. His hands held your sides tightly, fingertips no doubt leaving bruises in their wake.

He was buried only midway inside you, and already, he was at his wit’s end. You all were, to be fair.

“Need you to relax, bunny,” he mumbled, nipping at your nape. “Need to feel you. Be inside you.”

Suguru was holding up the best out of the three of you, murmuring sweet nothings to you, stroking your stomach, gently massaging your breasts, anything to get you to ease up and melt into them. He was already bottomed out in your cunt, so deep inside you, you swore you could feel him behind your navel.

Satoru waited for you to unwind, edging into you whenever you allowed it, sinking in more and more until he was finally seated to the base.

All three of you let out weighty sighs, pleased he was able to wrestle his way in.

Nothing could ever come close to the sensation of being crowded and stuffed to the absolute brim like this. You could distinctly feel their cocks rubbing against one another through the thin wall separating your cunt and ass, their heartbeats racing. You were filled beyond capacity, it was a boon Satoru was able to fit himself next to Suguru.

“Good girl,” the noiret beamed at you, smoothing his thumbs over your aching nipples. “Fuck, such a good girl for us, aren’t you?”

“Knew you could do it,” the towhead rubbed his cheek against yours. “You feel so good, baby.”

Satoru moved first, drawing back ‘til the tip remained, then shoved back in. You keened, your head falling back to rest on his collarbone. He took his time setting a comfortable pace, after which Suguru started moving. He guided your hips to grind on his, his motions opposite to Gojo’s. When one was in, the other was out, back and forth, ensuring you were never empty at any given moment.

A rhythm built up, a melody of harmonized moans and cries and filthy promises bouncing off the walls of your room. The three of you became one, a flowing machine, all parts operating together to create a rhapsody of names and skin-on-skin.

They were everywhere, all at once. There wasn’t a spot anywhere on you they hadn’t touched, a location they hadn’t fanned their palms over, a zone they hadn’t marked, a piece they hadn’t claimed.

Inside and out, if they could reach it, it was theirs. Body, heart, mind, and soul, you were theirs, and they were yours. They assured you of such, telling you how they pined for you, how you had them wrapped around your little finger.

“Loved you from the day I laid eyes on you, princess,” Satoru said, gravelly. “I’m– shit– I’m f-fuckin’ crazy for you.”

“Toru!”

“Yeaaah, say my name,” he implored you.

You hiccuped. “S-Satoru!”

He groaned, deep and from the soul. “Fuck, I love you so much, pretty girl.”

“Love yo-ou,” you stuttered, laboring to put more than two words together.

Suguru cupped your jaw. “And me?”

“Love you, S-Sugu,” you promised.

He gifted you that smile that you adored more than you could convey, your spirit overjoyed. “My precious angel. I love you, too.”

You didn’t know how he was acting so put-together in the middle of fucking your brains out. Sweat clung to his forehead, his defined neck, and the contours of his torso, droplets trailing down and sticking his hair to his skin.

By comparison, you were a wreck of incoherent babbling and firing synapses, strewn between them as they ravaged your body. Their syncopated tempo wouldn’t grant you a brief pause to anchor yourself, completely at the hands of their mercy. Their sizes caused them to push firmly into any and every sweet spot you had, blinding you with a euphoria unlike any other.

Either because he was amused by your struggle, or because he was a bit sadistic, Suguru planted his heels onto your bed and rammed into you.

Your vision flickered, cognizance short-circuited from the abrupt burst of pleasure. It forced you directly to the height of your elation, teetering precariously on the summit, ready to dive off it.

“Nngh!” You mewled, brows furrowed, body wound tight. A taut bowstring, waiting to be released.

“Go on, mochi,” Satoru grunted when you clenched down on them. “Cum for us.”

“I-I can't!” You sobbed. “I– I need–”

“I've got you, love,” Suguru huffed. You bucked when the pad of his thumb pressed against your sensitive, febrile clit.

He circled it roughly in pace with their thrusts once, twice, and you shattered.

Your muscles locked up, throat pinched shut as a shot of pure, electric nirvana in its rawest form rolled in your tummy, then exploded outwards. It filled your limbs, fogged your mind, darkened your sight, flooding your entire being until you knew nothing but such divine euphoria.

You couldn't register your own blissful cry, or if you had cried at all, too lost in your senses to hear both men trilling and fawning over you while struggling to keep rhythm and control when you squeezed and milked them so well.

In the darkness behind your eyes, where their light had yet to touch, you witnessed something beyond the bounds of your mortal comprehension.

You heralded the heat death of the universe. You saw every speck of cosmic brilliance either smolder out until it lived no longer, or detonate in the grandest scenes you never believed you could be present for. Dust, fire, and energy burst throughout the swiftly collapsing ether, until all that was left were the abyssal, all-devouring voids that struggled to survive with the last of the matter they had shorn from clusters of galaxies and the stars they eventually dragged into their bottomless weasands.

When they, too, died, there was nothing. Silence, stygian darkness, not a soul nor being to be found.

Then, it all compressed. The petals of the universe themselves tucked inwards, folded over and over, packed down into a tiny dot, a speck more than anything else, where all matter was serried and reunited as one. It shrank and shrank, growing heavier, denser, hotter by the second.

You alone were the sole seer to the birth of the firmament.

You were there to descry in all glory how the heavens came to be, how the stars sparked to life, weak at first as they formed, fell, and formed again, repeating the cycle until the colossal entities became gods in their own rights. You bore the heavy weight of being testimony to the truth greater than anyone could ever picture.

You saw the coruscating fireworks of resplendent celestial bodies as they caved in on themselves, then went out with a final, grand eruption of phosphorescence. You beheld how some brought the next generation of stars, while others crumpled under the overpowering vise of the freezing vacuum of space, creating monstrosities that knew only how to consume and exist as the brightest, most refulgent beings.

And then, as the universe retreated from your perception, there was only them.

Only Satoru and Suguru, as they grit their teeth and held your hips and waist with enough pressure to ache deep in your bones, their sweaty forms halted against your own. Sweltering, liquid fire poured into your core, their cocks pulsing within your snug walls as you drained them for all they were worth and more.

Time ceased to exist immemorial. The three of you wound down, breathing each other in, simply being. Once lecherous hands glided up and down your sweat-slicked figure, unhurried now that you’d all reached the promised land together.

They were patient, giving you time to return to yourself. Soft-spoken vows and encomia, gentle petting, bringing you down from your astronomical high.

Gojo crooked his arms under your thighs, hoisting you up off of Geto’s lap. The action caused both of them to slip out of you, making you wince and whimper.

He hushed you sweetly as he set you on your side, nestling against your back with his arms looped around your waist, keeping you close. Suguru laid down in front of you, dotting kisses along your hairline, cheeks, nose, and one right on your lips.

“What brought it on?” Suguru spoke in low tones, and you felt his voice more than heard it.

“Mm?” You hummed, sleepy and confused.

“Why’d you leave the wedding?” He clarified.

You blushed, embarrassed at the reminder, now that you knew how they felt about you. “Ah, well…I, um…” You cleared your throat uncomfortably. “I saw you smile at another girl and it kinda…set me off, I guess.”

He frowned. “Smile?”

You tilted your head to hide your face, regardless of the darkness in your room. “The one that kissed your cheek.”

Satoru snorted harshly. “Oh, my god, that wasn’t a smile.”

“It wasn’t?” You blinked.

He cackled. “Hell no. I thought he was gonna blow a fuse. He looked like he’d been dropped in a vat of sap or something. Livid, I’m telling you.”

“I refrained,” Suguru insisted.

“You almost broke your teeth,” the other boy refuted.

He clicked his tongue. “It was uncomfortable. Besides, I don’t want any woman near me that isn’t our angel.”

The baby bird residing within you fluttered its wings at his words. Our. You were theirs just as they were yours.

In the afterglow of your lovemaking, as the two got comfy with you, snuggled up with you in the middle, you let your mind drift. Thoughts you fought against since the day you moved here were given the spotlight, allowed to say their pieces without you shoving them into the box under your bed.

You’ve always likened yourself to a kite.

Where once you considered yourself faded, washed out, and forever at risk of being bound to the ground, you realized something important.

As your fingers carded through Suguru’s soft, damp hair, and Satoru formed small circles under your ribs with his thumb, you noticed that the achromatic world you had lived in had been doused with color. It took you a while to see it, to fully process that the longer you stayed in this little village, the more vibrant the watercolor paints became, but they were there now, and you’d never be able to draw your eyes away from them.

Like a kite, you yearned to be free; to feel the wind under your wings and the sun on your back. You always blamed the rope that connected you to the ground for keeping that freedom away from you. It had you locked in a gilded cage, so you trimmed it further and further until you were just a kite, without any strings, without any connections to anyone or anything.

Without a home.

Upon reflection, you acknowledged that it didn’t make you free – it made you lost.

You had been lost for so long.

Then, you found them; the boys that wrapped your body in countless arms and legs, never any real beginning or end between you and them. You found these friends you made, and they all tied differently colored threads around your bamboo bones.

You let them.

You were scared when you fell, when the wind stopped blowing and you were torn from the skies, unable to follow the gales, you’d splinter beyond repair.

But, they caught you – Satoru and Suguru, together, as one.

And it clicked in your head the moment they said they wanted you, the same way you wanted them.

Being bound didn’t mean you were chained. Being tethered to them meant you could glide and soar in the sky without the fear of ever getting misled again, and the strings would guide you home when the gentle gusts calmed or the whipping tempests grew too angry.

You thought, ages ago, that you’d never be okay with being fettered to someone, or something. You had to be completely isolated, unshackled.

In truth, you just needed to find the people you wanted to share your link with. The pinkies and ankles you’d knot red threads around.

It was them all along. The Sun and Moon incarnate, with their Star held between them, all of you aloft and flying with hands clasped as a single being. There was no fear of your bond ever snapping, of any of you ever being torn away by an unforgiving storm.

Being bound meant you had a home.

And your home was with these two, with Gojo Satoru and Geto Suguru.

Your home was here, in this village, away from anything grand and suffocating. It was here, in their arms, fingers and hearts intertwined.

You just had to get a little lost before being found.

banner by cafekitsune ♥

taglist: @kimi01985

#Tether Me #jjk x reader #gojo x reader #satoru x reader #gojo satoru x reader #satoru gojo x reader #geto x reader #suguru x reader #geto suguru x reader #suguru geto x reader #satosugu x reader #chimera writes

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laurettelarue · 9 months

Text

Meshmerized

not me

#meshmerized #fishnet tights #gorgeous #sexy #not me #girl #fishnet pantyhose #celebrating 15K followers #THANKS!

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iguessweallcrazyithinktho · 1 year

Text

𝐠𝐨𝐭 𝐦𝐲 𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 • 𝐣𝐮𝐝𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐡𝐚𝐦

Jude noticing you in the crowd and makes a move

Genre: fluff

Warning: reader who isn't into football, Jude flirting (?)

Word count: 600

Pairing: Jude Bellingham x f reader

Author note: thanks for 15k followers. I'll try my best to write more tho

Jude Bellingham Masterlist

Enjoy

๑‧˚₊꒷︶ଓ︶꒷꒦⊹๑‧˚₊꒷︶ଓ︶꒷꒦⊹๑

You weren’t really into football as others were. Your friends has managed to dragged you with them to see their favorite team real Madrid play against some other team they didn’t tell you about. You couldn’t even pretend you were interested as they were that’s why you were sitting in the crowd, nose deep in your phone while everyone else buzzed as they waited for the game to start.

“I’m so excited.” Your friend Tessa said beside you. Her legs bounced up and down as she looked out at the field.

“ I’m not excited.” You sighed, tucking your phone into your pocket. “I should have stayed home and studied.”

“Oh my gosh lighten up y/n!” your friend groaned, rolling her eyes. “you’re about to watch a bunch of men chase a ball. That’s way better than studying.” Your friend wrapped her arm around your shoulder. “maybe you’ll find some of them attractive. Like Eduardo Camavinga or Jude Bellingham. Oh here they come.”

Your friend squealed as a bunch of men ran on the field. You eyed them as they ran out to do some warming up.

You were about to look away until one caught your eye. “who’s that?” you pointed at one on the field.

“Oh that’s Jude Bellingham. Hot right?” she turned away to engage in conversation with your other friend. All you could do is nod.

He was extremely attractive. More attractive than any man you’ve ever laid your eyes on.

You tried to tear your eyes away from him, but you couldn’t. You stared at him for what felt like forever. That was until his eyes met yours.

Instantly you looked away, heat growing on your cheek. When you looked back at him after a few seconds his eyes were still on you.

You had to be dreaming. Was he looking at someone else? You turned around noticing nobody else barely filled the section you were in.

You turned back to the field to realize Jude was no longer in the spot he was in before. Your attention turned back to your phone, trying to distract yourself. Before long the game started. You watched the players run back and forth, kicking the ball between each other. Everyone around you grew excited and nervous every time the ball got closer to each goal.

What you did know was the ball needed to go in the net and that’s what happened around the 30th minute of the game when Jude kicked it in.

The crowd interrupted in cheers at their Starboy. You smiled watching all his team mates crowd him. He then did his famous celebration and grabbed his shirt showing off the Madrid badge. He found himself pointing in your direction, winking at you as he did so.

You weren’t sure if it was directed at you or not. Soon you found out.

The score was 3-1 when the game was over. Everyone flooded out of the stadium but you and your friends lingered for a bit.

“ma’am you heard from behind you.” You turned around to see a guy you assumed was staff by the real Madrid badge on his suit.

“can you come with us. Someone would like to see you.”

You were confused but you told your friends to get going and you’ll meet them later before following the man.

He took you out of the stands in down through the tunnel. You followed him into a long hallway that was full of people.

“stay right here.” You stopped as he said. You watched him walk away, disappear into a room then emerging with the 6ft tall footballer Jude Bellingham.

He smiled when he saw you standing there. Your breath hitched when he walks towards you. He was walking towards you!!

“ I’m sure you saw me staring and pointing at you like a weirdo.” Jude leaned up against the wall beside you. “ I’m Jude.” He stuck out his hand waiting for you to shake it.

You laughed slightly. “yeah I noticed. I’m y/n.”

꒦ˎˊ˗ ︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶ ꒦꒷꒦₊˚

I know cliff hanger. Im not sorry

#jude bellingham #jude bellingham x reader #jude bellingham fluff #Jude Bellingham fanfiction #jude bellingham x you

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michibap · 1 month

Note

need to hear about hockey reader and schlatts first time.

yes yes yeah

she's finally here guys,

thank you user kiddiesmores for acting as a vessel of the prophecy

15k words because im fucking insane, sorry

TW: typical college activities, hetero sex

BEGONE TUCKER 🐑🩸

-if you think he's putting out ez you'd be wrong

-when you suddenly materialized into his life, he did some snooping, asking around about #23 on the women's hockey team

-if he was going to be seeing you four days out of the week, he should probably find out if you're secretly some kind of psycho freak

-but when he asks around, it seems like he's already kind of late to the party

-bc everyone he knows seems to at least know of you

-especially with the reputation you'd garnered on campus

-he'd learned a new word whilst asking around, conversation coming to a brief pause as he gives his friend a confused look

"What the fuck is a puck bunny?"

-charlie only glanced up from where he was tinkering with one of the robotics club's new projects with a coy smile,

"I'm gonna need you to take a look in the mirror, brother."

-the mischevious giggle that followed had schlatt sitting up straighter on his stool, reaching over to grab his phone

"Fuck you. What does that even mean? Fuck you." he spat as he rapidly typed the term, that he could only assume was offensive, into a search engine

-he presses his lips into a thin line and pegs an empty water bottle at charlie's head after reading the results

"I am no goddamn puckbunny." he huffed, crossing his arms over his chest, "And quite frankly, I'm offended that you've taken me for some common whore."

-charlie laughed again, bringing his hands down from where they had shot up to protect himself from schlatt's assault,

"I mean, I wouldn't blame you," he says with a shrug, looking over his friend as he squirmed, "You're telling me you would pass up that up, if you had the chance?"

-schlatt forced a scoff with a cocky shrug,

"Not 'round here, partner. I'm built different."

"You wouldn't know how to handle allat anyways." a voice pipes up from another table

-schlatt turns in his chair to glare at where the eavesdropper is biting back a smile, holding his hands up in defense when schlatt flips him the bird

"FUCK you, tucker."`

●・○・●・○・●・

-since the first time he heard it, the term had been haunting his narrative

-puckbunny?

-like... a groupie?

-surely not

-part of him didn't believe it

-despite it being the way a solid five of his friends had heard of you

-surely you weren't a puck bunny, you just didn't give off those vibes

-and he didn't even know if the women's hockey team even had groupies like that

-shit, he didn't even know that the university had a women's hockey team until this year

-that, and he just didn't think you were the hook-up type

-despite your cocky and aggressive nature on the ice,

-he's noticed that you don't talk much outside of when you're with your team or with... him

-he found it almost comical how every ounce of your usual rowdiness leaves your body the moment you were without a friend by your side

[he tries to ignore his inkling sense of pride, but it has him sitting up a little straighter nonetheless]

-with your reserved nature, there's surely no way you're out here hooking up with randoms

-however....

-there is evidence that suggests otherwise (aside from what he'd heard from friends)

-the first incident is only a handful of days into your comeback masterplan

-it's the morning after a successful game for the women's hockey team

-there's solid number of hungover students dragging their sorry asses to class after a long night of celebrating the win

-he almost wants to point and laugh at his suffering peers, feeling beautifully rested after a long night's rest

-having gone directly home after the game and crawling into bed shortly after

-some of his smugness is zapped from him when he sees a cute blonde walking in the opposite direction as him, an obvious pep in her step

-he thought that the fact that she was his only equal in a sea of degenerates was what had caught his eye

-but as he looks her up and down, he bites back a scowl when he notes the fresh bruises and teeth marks littering her neck and collarbones that were exposed by the baggy sweatshirt she was donning

-obviously not hers

-he'd been FOOLED

-yet another soul lost to the wills satan, damned for eternity for the sin of-

-his judgements (which he refused to admit were rooted in jealousy) came to a screeching halt

-his eyes darting back to the sweater the girl was wearing

-wait a damn minute.

-that sweatshirt was very clearly not hers

-he stops in his tracks, doing a shameless double take of what the blonde was wearing

-it looked oddly similar to a sweatshirt he's seen YOU wearing

-he's broken from his trance by another student bumping into him, grumbling at the brief scuffle before making his way into the lecture hall

-you make your way in around five minutes after the lecture begins, as per usual

-he raises a brow when he sees you shivering in a thin long sleeve shirt as you wordlessly shuffle past the other people in the row

-he pretends not to look at the way your biceps bulge against the fabric as you drop your bag and adjust in your seat

-rubbing your hands together for a moment before pressing them between your thighs in an attempt to warm them up

"Thought hockey players didn't get cold?" he teased quietly, grinning when you side eyed him as you try to suppress your shivering,

"'S fuckin' brutal out there," you grumble, using one of your hands to reach down and open your bag to grab your notebook

"That's what jackets are for, pleb."

-you only sigh in defeat, the cold having zapped too much of your energy to bother conjuring up some clever comeback,

"No dip," you hiss, "Couldn't even find my fuckin sweater this morning."

●・○・●・○・●・

-there was another incident not much more than four days later

-it'd been after you convinced him to move your session from the collaboration office to a nearby dining hall

-because according to you

"If I don't get something in my stomach in the next three to five minutes I'm gonna start throwing things. And I mean it."

-he follows you around as you load up your plate

-shaking his head no when you ask if he wants anything

-you were griping about some group project that you were struggling with, casually dropping that you were ghosting your group mates because of how bad it sucked

-he wasn't really listening, more focused on following you through the crowded dining hall as you led him to your table of choice

-but as the two of you were walking, you were interrupted by a sudden shout of your name

-you halted in your tracks, and he mindlessly walks into you, stumbling a bit after basically bouncing off of your back, your stance unmoving

-he peaks over your shoulder to see who had stopped you

-his brows shooting up at the sight of a cute brunette eagerly looking up at you over the rim of her glasses

"I'm so glad I caught you! I don't think you got my texts,"

-he watches your shoulders rise with a sharp inhale as you wipe your palms on your sweats,

-an anxious habit of yours that he'd picked up on the longer he's spent time with you

"Heyyy youu..."

-and he quickly puts the pieces together

-taking in your anxious tell and the girl standing in front of you, who had flagged you down in the middle of the dining area

-he has to rub a hand down his face to suppress a laugh

-there is no fucking WAY he's watching you get called out for ghosting you group project right in front of him

-this is simply too good to be true

"Yeah I, uh..." you pause and suck your teeth, glancing away for a moment

-and he can SEE the smoke pouring out of your ears as your primate brain kicks into overdrive

"My service is just... weird, I guess. I must not've gotten em."

"No, no, it's totally okay" she rushes out, her eyes shoot up and catch schlatt's and he quickly averts his own

-a little guilty at being caught eavesdropping

"Umm, are you busy right now?"

-he watches you stand a little straighter and glance over your shoulder at him

-something in your eyes shifting when you seemed to remember he was behind you

-and he shifts his weight from one foot to the other as he raises a single brow at you, obviously biting back a smile

-oh boy OH BOY

-here it comes!!!1!!

"Yeah, I'm actually here for tutoring right now, so..."

"Oh!" she chirps, "What for? I could probably help if you want-"

"Nahh, my tuition pays for him to be here." you insist, jabbing a thumb in his direction

-he watches as the girl's shoulder deflate, his own sagging as well

"Oh..."

-that's IT?

-where is the TEA? the DRAMA?

-he wants to see this girl crash out in a very real and serious way

-because he KNOWS how frustrating you can be in an academic setting, so he can only imagine what you'd be like as a groupmate

"Yeah, we should probably get going, actually. Time's a wastin'" you finish with an awkward laugh

"Oh, okay. I'll see you around, I guess..."

"Totally, totally... Later!" you call as you begin to walk away

-schlatt moves to follow, but you don't make it far before the girl reaches out and grabs your wrist,

"Hey, wait!"

-you look eyes shoot down to your wrist then back to her with a frown

-HERE IT IS

-he almost wants to applaud his fellow nerd for standing up

-there seriously does need to be some geek unity on this godforsaken campus-

-his train of thought comes to a screeching halt when he watches the girl look up at you hopefully, pulling her lower lip between her teeth before she continues, a little shyer,

"Text me?"

-when he watches your eye her up and down

-the corner of your mouth pulling into a little smirk

-he realizes that this interaction is going in a FAR different direction than what he had assumed

"I'll see you around."

-with that, you pull your wrist from her grasp and walk away

-and schlatt is hot on your heels as he follows you to a table in a quiet corner

-practically throwing his bag into the booth before sliding in after it

-the moment he's sat, his nosey ass is running his mouth

"What the fuck was that?" he rushes out with a bewildered laugh

-you chuckle and shake your head as you slide into the booth across from him,

"Shit was weird, right?"

"Weird?" he repeats, bewildered

-he turns his head to look in the direction where the girl had walked off in

-laughing when he sees her already looking in your table's direction from where she's sitting

"She wants you bad, bro."

-you only roll your eyes, corner of your lips twitching into a cocky smile

"Everyone wants me." you proclaim cockily

-schlatt laughs again, shaking his head

-usually he would make a comment to shoot you down a peg, but he'll give it to you this time, he supposes...

-game recognizes game

"So, what's the dame's name?"

-you hum, shifting in your seat so you can follow his eyes to where she's sitting,

"Honestly," he watches as you catch her eyes, one of your own dropping into a playful wink as you send her a little wave

he watches her perk up in her seat and eagerly wave back

"I couldn't remember her name if you had a fuckin' gun to my head," you mutter with a laugh

-you glance back over to him, expecting him to be laughing with you, smile falling a little when you see he isn't even cracking a grin,

-as a matter of fact, he's doing the opposite

-his face set firmly into a judgmental frown

"What's it to you?" you ask, a little defensive

“You don’t even know her name?” he hisses

-you roll your eyes at his tone, scowling

“Does it matter?”

●・○・●・○・●・

-it was a damn shame that your douchey tendencies tarnished the romanticized version of you that lived in his head

-because much to his dismay

-as your three week comeback plan continued to unfold

-he’d found that maybe you’ve grown on him

-just a little

-after the first week of awkwardly quiet meetings where the only talking the two of you did was him answering your questions and an occasional biting comment,

-the two of you had surprisingly grown fairly close

-you could call it forced proximity, but he has a feeling it’s a little deeper than that

-especially now that his friends have seemed to pick up on it

-he won’t even give anybody the chance to try and tease him

-loudly groaning and interrupting the conversation the second anything that could possibly pertain to you comes up

-maybe it was the way he was suddenly interested in tagging along to hockey games, but only for the women’s team

-or the way he’d print out all of your practice sheets ahead of time instead of emailing you the pdfs and making you print them yourself like he does with all of the other students he’s tutoring

-it could be the way he’ll drop his conversations, coming to a hard stop when his phone goes off, anxiously checking to see if it was you

(and nobody believes him when he says it, but it usually really is you)

-there’s also the fact that he steps out of the room the moment he sees your face peaking through the small window of the workshop door

-you’d picked up the habit of stopping by if his bi-weekly robotics meetings are still running after your practice lets out

-neither of you mention how the math and science building is well out of the way of your walk to the student athletes' housing

-but his fate was truly sealed the other day

-during your regularly scheduled session, you’d gotten a text from coach letting you know that practice had been canceled that day

-pickles, his beloved frenchie, had managed to eat an entire large pizza and an order of garlic knots and was suffering the consequences

-he watched you cheer, celebrating your newly found free time

-and in a brief moment of confidence, he offered to let you tag along with him to his robotics meeting

“If you don’t have anything better to do, of course.”

-he really did think you were joking when you took him up on it

-only realized you were quietly tailing him about half way through his walk to the math and science building

-he only knew you were there when he heard the crinkling of you unwrapping some sort of snack from behind him

-whipping his head around and releasing a short shout when he sees you

“Jesus, they need to put a fucking bell on you,” he hissed, “Why are you following me?”

-he frowned when you looked at him like he was an idiot

“You told me to, douchebag.”

“What? When?”

-you click your tongue and give him another look, and he squirms a little, waiting for you to answer

“...When you asked me to come to your meeting… and I said yes?”

-he lets out a little “Ohhhhhh,”

“I didn’t think you’d actually wanna come.” he admits with a laugh

-you shrug and break into a light jog to catch up so you could walk beside him

“Nah, wanted to see that fat fuckin’ head of yours put to use.”

“I hope you know that I’ve reserved the right to revoke your invitation.”

-you only hum, lips twitching into a grin,

“You won’t.”

-when he opens the door, all of the chatter that could be heard from outside came to an abrupt stop

-all heads turning to where you followed schlatt into the workshop

-you awkwardly cough into your fist when nobody says anything to you, just staring silently

“Uh, what’s good mathletes?” you awkwardly try to break the ice

-beside you, schlatt sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose while his friends chuckle,

“Robotics.” he corrects

-your tongue presses to the side of your cheek with an almost imperceptible raise of your brow, and he could tell that you were doing everything in your power not to laugh

-had you two been alone, you’d have made some kind of joke about how you’re itching to rob him of his lunch money

-but in a room where you’re significantly outnumbered by not just nerds, but your cute tutor’s friends?

-you decide to secede with a hum

“Right, right. Robotics team.” you correct yourself, glancing at him out of the corner of your eye before looking back to the rest of the small group, “My bad.”

“No worries, man.” Charlie pipes up with a friendly smile, “You’re on the hockey team, right?”

“Yup, Number 23.”

-schlatt sends alex a dangerous glare from over your shoulder when he loudly coughs after choking on his water when he hears the number

-you give him a weird look before wiping your hands on your joggers,

“Right. So, practice was canceled tonight, and he said it was alright if I crash your meeting,” you explained, jabbing your thumb back in schlatt’s direction, “if that’s okay with y’all, of course”

-obviously, there was no protest

-schlatt rolls his eyes as he watches his peers push a few of the benches together

-eager to pick at the brain of the notorious #23, who seemed to be wrapping their usually introverted friend around her finger

-however, you seem a lot less eager to boast about yourself as they had been expecting

-sitting there quietly as they all settle into their tasks for the day, waiting for you to start talking

-you look around, a little unsure of what to do with yourself

-what the fuck were they building, a bomb?

-there were tools on the table that you had never seen before, and when you take a look at a paper nearby, it was filled with an almost unintelligible scrawl of numbers and symbols you didn’t even know existed

-he lets you squirm for a minute, occasionally glancing over to watch you fiddle with the fabric of your pants as you anxiously look at the array of parts and papers and pencils scrawled out in front of you

-maybe it’s a little cute to see you floundering outside of your element, sticking by him in an unfamiliar setting

-you manage to catch his eyes once, and you send him a pleading look

-he only raises his brow, smug

“Yes?”

-you sigh, knowing that he’s going to force it out of you eventually,

“Where do you want me?”

-charlie freezes in the middle of twisting a prong

-glancing up at where you and schlatt are sitting across from him with wide eyes

-schlatt’s lip curl into a shit eating grin as he reaches for a ridiculously tiny screwdriver,

“Oh, I’ve got just the thing for you.”

-he assigns you the most dreaded task he could think of,

-having you twist tiny little screws into the stupidly small threaded holes of the 3d printed box they planned to fill with all of the guts and wiring of their new bot

-but the task comes as a relief, giving you something to do with your hands as you listen to the idle chatter of him and his friends, occasionally chipping in

-enjoying hanging with the gaggle of geeks more than you had been expecting to

-you were dragged into the conversation again when tucker inevitably started going on about his most recent pump,

“I see you in the gym all the time,” he says, getting your attention as he smiles at you from across the bench,

“You’re fuckin’ jacked man, we’ve gotta go sometime so you can show me what’s up.”

-you only grin, glancing up from where you have the piece of machinery you’ve been working away at in your lap,

“Oh for sure, I see you in there too,” and schlatt watches tucker light up like a goddamn christmas tree, “You’ll have to take it easy on me.”

-later on, the conversation takes a turn towards an upcoming competition that they had coming up, which you were eagerly invited to

“Wait, on the 12th?” you ask, deflating a bit,

“I’ve got a game that day, I won’t be able to make it.” you say with a frown

-there’s a chorus of groans from the team, disappointed both by you being unable to attend their tournament, and them not being able to go to your game

-you frown, crossing your arms and teetering back in your chair as you think for a moment

“Well, what’re you guys doing for your celly?”

“Celly?” Jaiden repeats, cocking her head

“Celebration.” you elaborate

“Right, well it’s kinda up in the air because we haven’t, y’know, won yet.” schlatt attempts to be snarky

-frowning when you only you nod at him before turning back to the others

“Nice, well when you guys do, Phi Sig is throwing for the team. You guys should pull up.”

-there are some excited reactions from the team, but schlatt crosses his arms over his chest, leveling you with a suspicious look,

“You’re inviting us to a party to celebrate winning a game that you haven’t played yet? A little bold, don’t we think?”

-it wasn’t a popular take, for sure

-a direct invite to a Phi Sig party was a high honor around these parts

-and he remembers you saying something about the other team being “full ‘a fuckin benders” when he asked you about your upcoming game, confident in your ability to win

-but he remained weary, not wanting to risk getting the team’s hopes up

-but you disregarded any anxieties he had when your lips curled into one of your infamous cocky grins, a quick glimpse of your on-ice persona

“That’s one way to put it.”

●・○・●・○・●・

-the function already seems to be in full swing by the time they arrive

-there’s already somebody passed out in the front yard, surrounded by empty tweas

-you could hear the music and lively chatter coming from the house all the way from the street, windows lit up with colorful string LEDs

-schlatt sucks in a deep breath, following after his friends who are excitedly bouncing towards the house

-all of them proudly donning their matching windbreakers they had won at the tournament they had just returned from

-and part of him wants to turn tail and call it a night, just going back to his dorm after an exhausting day

-but he hears alex’s giddy giggle when they open the door, the riotous volume of the party now being heard at full

-he steels himself and ducks in, following the group to the kitchen, trying to keep a headcount as they struggle to navigate through the rowdy crowd

-it’s a relief when it’s a little quieter in there, only a handful of people in there chatting and pouring themselves drinks, the music slightly muffled

-he finds a corner to situate himself in as his friends geek over the selection of alcohol set out

-he grins as charlie hands him a red solo cup filled with sprite and something that burns as it slides down his throat

“Jesus, what the fuck did you put in this?”

“Shut up and drink it, pussy.”

-he won’t argue with that

-he makes the mistake of looking out at the rest of the party over the rim of his cup as he gulps down some more

-needing some liquid courage after seeing a small group of guys pointing at their jackets and snickering

-he averts his eyes, deciding that it wasn’t his problem

-instead choosing to look in the living room where a large number of people have congregated around a game of beer pong

-some others dancing to the music playing over the speakers

-his eyes travel along the back wall, where some partygoers linger on the outer hedges of the crowd

-of course, his eyes are naturally drawn to you

-he chokes on his drink as he watches you lean down so that a redhead in scandalously tight jeans can whisper something your ear, your hand planted on the small of her back as you pull her closer

-he splutters and struggles to swat tucker away when he comes up and firmly pats him on the back as he coughs

-when he recovers, he can’t help but look back to where he found you as he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand

-eyes going wide when he sees your eyes already on him as you lean in closer to whisper something yourself

-lips curling into a charming smile when she pulls back with a laugh and you gently nudge her away

-he watches as you push off from the wall and make your way through the crowd and towards him, the throngs of people parting around you as you wade through with ease

-dressed in your jersey, lazily thrown over a hoodie and paired with baggy jeans

-he can tell by your flushed cheeks and toothy smile that spreads across your face when you enter the kitchen that you’re already decently tipsy

“What’s good, mathletes?!” you greet excitedly, happy to dap Charlie up as you walk in

-one of your teammates pops her head in after you with a confused grin

“Not the mathletes-” she laughed

“Aye, that’s robotics team to you.” you correct her

-schlatt’s eyes go wide when come closer to him and reach reach out and grab his shoulder

-easily spinning him around and pointing out the back of his windbreaker

-his face gets hot when he feels your finger drag across the poor quality printing on his back

“State champs.” you read proudly

“Damnnnn,” your teammate commends, nodding in approval

“I can drink to that!” another one of them, who seemed to have materialized in the kitchen, chirps excitedly

-the rest of the party rushes by in a blur from that point on

-because the next thing he knows,

-he’s going shot for shot with the women’s hockey team’s captain while you cheer him on,

-your drink sloshing over the lid of your cup as your throw your arms up and cheer

-he doesn’t know why he thought he could go toe to toe with a carbed up athlete, but it makes for a good time either way

-he won’t remember tomorrow, but with some firewater in his blood he was able to let loose and enjoy himself

-the only evidence of it will be blurry photos he finds in his camera roll and sent in the groupchat the next morning

●・○・●・○・●・

-the next time he regains sentience, he finds himself out by the street, hunched over a trashcan and hurling up the big mac he had eaten on the way back to campus however many hours ago

-he doesn’t hear you walking up behind him

-nor did he notice you follow him out when you saw him stumbling towards the door, the friends he had come with too sloshed to notice his escape

“You alright there, big guy?” he hears you ask, an entertained lilt to your voice

-he only groaned and hung his head further into the bin

“You were goin’ pretty hard in there,” you tease

-and he raises his head to glare at you, bringing up a hand and using the back of it to wipe his mouth

“Fuck yeah I was.” he said proudly, swaying as he pushes himself to stand up again

“‘M not done yet-” he mumbles, and makes to walk back into the party

-unfortunately, he doesn’t make it very far

-your eyes go wide and one of your hands shoots out to grab a fistful of his shirt as a last ditch attempt to break his fall, but it doesn’t do much help

-he ends up flat on the ground with a stretched shirt, groaning up at the sky

-you, once again, aren’t much help

-still a little tipsy yourself, and cackling hard enough that you end up on the ground next to him

-he would have taken a moment to appreciate the sound if everything wasn’t spinning

“God, that was good” you sigh, wiping away stray tear

“I fuckin hate parties.” he grumbles

“Yeah, I’m sure you do.” you chuckle

-his chest goes tight when your face comes into view, looking down at him from where you’re seated beside him with a teasing smile,

“You got somebody to bring you home?”

-he scowled, reaching up to push your face out of sight,

“Don’t need you ta fuckin bring me home-”

“Brother, you are on the ground.”

“Fuck you.” he spits, moving to push himself off the ground, groaning once he’s sitting upright, “I can’t believe you let this happen.”

-you bark a laugh,

“Me?”

“Yeah, you.” he scoffs, once again wobbling as he gets back on his feet, “None ‘a this woulda fuckin happened if you- if you- if you jus'-”

-he pauses and presses his lips into a thin line, glaring at where you’re looking up at him from the ground

-conflicting emotions swirling in his chest

-caught between enjoying your company and wanting you to leave so he can let his brain shut off as he lies on the cold concrete

-you watch as he struggles to string together a coherent thought, laughing to yourself as you get off the ground with significantly less struggle

-and all of a sudden it feels a little too much like you’re laughing at him

-anger flaring in his chest as he thinks back to the guys who had been snickering about his and his friend’s jackets earlier

-fucking student athletes and their stupid egos

-you’re no better than him, with your stupidly toned body and captivating smile

-once you’re standing, the two of you are nearly chest to chest

-if his brain wasn’t short circuiting before, it definitely was now

-his eyes widen and his chest goes a little tighter when it finally processes that you’re looking up at him

-thanks to the combination of your lack of added height without your skates and the close proximity between the two of you

-he’s close enough to smell the liquor on your breath and the residual stench of pot mingling with your perfume

-it’s intoxicating enough that he doesn’t realize how hard he’s staring at your lips as they stretch into an amused smile

“You were saying?”

-his eyes dart back up to yours, face growing hot when he realizes he’d been caught

-if he were a little more sentient right now, he would articulate just how badly you piss him off

-how much it frustrates him that he is simply unable to dislike you, no matter how he wishes he could (and probably should)

-with your stupid cocky attitude and smug smiles

-and your frankly unfairly great sense of humor that gets the two of you weird looks when you have him cracking up in the collaboration office

-or how easily you’ve slotted yourself into nearly every aspect of his life

-somehow weaseling your way into his academics, his work, his social circle

-his entire goddamn psyche

-worst of them all, he hates how you toy with him

-and he hates how he lets you

-your eyes go a little wide when he leans in close, feeling his breath brush across your lips with the proximity

-you make no move to pull away

-and maybe that’s his final straw

“Fuck. You.”

-the two of you remain standing close like that for a moment

-he flushes as your eyes bore into his own, searching for something, but he stands his ground, staring right back

-he frowns when you laugh in his face,

“Yeah, I thought you’d say something like that.”

-you suck in a deep breath and glance away, shoving your hands into your pockets and teetering on the balls of your feet,

“Listen, you can feel… however you want about me,” You pause and meet his eyes again,

“The main concern right now is gettin you somewhere safe so you’re not sleeping on the turf tonight. Now c’mon, ’s fucking cold out.”

-you reach out and grab the sleeve of his windbreaker, and attempt to pull him along with you as you try to walk away

-but he remains firmly in place

-you frown a little and tug his sleeve again,

“What’re you doing? Let’s go,” you insist, nodding your head in the direction that you were trying to lead him to

-he narrows his eyes at you

-caught between enjoying you tugging him around and being pissed that your entitled ass just assumes he’ll follow you just because you told him to

“Where’re you takin me?” he slurred

-you gave him a weird look, eyes darting from him to the front door of the house as another partygoer stumbles out and leans over the handrail to puke into a bush, then back to him

“Umm, probably my place-”

-you’re cut off by him scoffing and dramatically ripping his sleeve from your grasp,

“Fuck that, ‘m not going home with you.”

-you laugh a little, unsure of what he’s getting at,

“Umm, well I don’t really know how to get to yours, but if you think you can lead-”

“No, no. ‘M not going anywhere with you.” he mumbles petulantly, crossing his arms over his chest

-you sigh, bringing up a hand to pinch the bridge of your nose before letting it flop back at your side,

“Why are you being so difficult right now?”

“Fuck you.”

-he watches as the last ounce of patience leaves your body, glaring up at him as you run your tongue over your teeth to keep from saying anything you shouldn’t

“Y’know what? Fine, be like that. Have fun with the raccoons, dickhead.”

-and with that, he watches as you walk away without as much as a glance over your shoulder

-and his brain is going a mile a minute as he watches you get further away, part of him expecting you to turn around

-when you don’t, something ugly stirs in his chest

-and he just can’t let you walk away with the final word

“I’m not some fucking puck bunny!” he calls after you

-he blanches when it comes out, but resists clapping an embarrassed hand over his mouth

-that did not sound as hard as it did in his head

-his face gets embarrassingly hot when he sees you stop in your tracks and look at him over your shoulder, bewildered

“...What?”

-and he knows he should just shut his fat fucking mouth

-but he’s drunk and he’s angry and you’re right there and once he starts he just can’t stop

“I’m not just gonna do whatever you say jus’ for you ta fuckin pretend I don’t exist after you get what you want.”

-he stops when you fully turn around to face him again, thoughtfully looking him over before you speak,

“And what is it that you think I want from you?”

-he doesn’t say anything, jaw clenching as he keeps his eyes firmly set on you

-he knows that you know what he’s talking about

-he couldn't possibly be the only one that feels the tension between the two of you

-you sigh at his lack of response, bringing a hand up to adjust your hair before you speak

“Listen,” you sigh

“If I just wanted to fuck you, I already would've. Plain and simple.”

-you watch as his face morphs from anger to confusion

-a small smile twitching on your lips as you watch the cogs in his brain turn before turning back around with a shrug and continuing on your way

-he stands there, watching dumbly as you walk away

-but he hears a quiet laugh before you’re calling to him over your shoulder,

“You coming or what?”

-you shake your head with a smile when you hear heavy footsteps quickly approaching you from behind

●・○・●・○・●・

-the rest of the walk is spent in awkward silence

-well, awkward for schlatt

-you seem to have no issue with quietly walking side by side

-but his mind is elsewhere, thoughts racing by too fast for him to pick one and stick to it

-you chuckle a little when you see him dazedly staring at the open elevator door in front of him, giving him a second to see if he notices

-when he doesn’t, you lightly push him with a hand on the small of his back before following him in

-neither of you say anything until you enter your student apartment

-schlatt takes off his shoes on the doorway, leaning against the wall so he doesn’t topple over as he unties his sneakers

-you lazily kick your own shoes off before making your way into the kitchen, schlatt on your heels

-he bumps into your back when you stop abruptly

-he follows your eyes to where you’re looking

-finding your roommate standing in front of the fridge in her jammas, bag of popcorn in hand as she sends both of you a nasty glare

“Heyyyy Clair-”

“Who is that?” she interrupts, eyes boring into Jay’s soul

-he flounders, mouth falling open and snapping shut a few times as he tries to find something to say

-before he gets the chance, she’s turning back to you and heaving a disappointed sigh,

“I thought we agreed to no more groupies in the dorm.”

-you blanch as you now feel two sets of angry eyes on you

“He’s not a groupie!” you rush out, “Scout’s honor!”

-Claire only sighs, shaking her head as she turns to begin walking to her room,

“Just keep it down tonight, please.”

-after her bedroom door slammed shut, you turn to face Jay, who had been glaring at the back of your head, with a guilty smile

-and he would have given you hell for it if he didn’t feel his stomach churn, clapping a hand over his mouth

-your eyes shoot open and you’re like “Oh shit”, dragging him to your shared bathroom

-you stand there a little awkwardly, watching him wretch over the bowl for a moment

“Alright, ummm…” you scratch the back of your neck, “I’ll be right back. Don’t die.”

-he grumbles something indecipherable from where he’s hunched over and you take it as an okay to leave

-when you return a few minutes later in your jammas with a bottle of water, he’s seated on the floor with his back against the cabinet

-you nudge the side of his head with the bottle and he grumbles and snatches it out of your hand

-guzzling half of it as you settle across from him against the bathtub, just watching him

-he groans obnoxiously once he decides he’s had enough

-placing the now crunched bottle on the floor next to him and watching you back

-after a moment of silence you glance away and anxiously rub your hands over the fabric of your bottoms

-and he has to admit that you look awfully cute in your oversized t-shirt and flannel pants

“So…” you start awkwardly, “How’re we feeling?”

-he quirks an unentertained brow and presses his tongue to the side of his cheek before responding,

“Why don’t you give me your best guess.”

-you give a quiet laugh before responding,

“Well, you look like shit”

-he can’t help but roll his eyes and laugh alongside you, some of the drunken haze beginning to clear away as he sits on the cool tiles of your bathroom floor

“I mean, can’t be too bad if I’m here, right?”

-you only hum, pulling a knee up to your chest and resting your chin on it and looking back down at the tiles

-another beat of awkward silence passes

-schlatt is struggling to come up with another witty comment to make you laugh

-something charming and funny that’s sure to convince you that he’s worth your while

-and it’s on the tip of his tongue, but just as he goes to open his mouth, you’re looking back up at him

“I really like you.”

….

FUCK

-FUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCJ

-his eyes go impossibly wide and he claps a hand over his mouth hard enough that his head knocks back against the cabinet

-he does not know WHAT possessed him to say that

-but the humiliation only sinks in further when your shoulders shake with a quiet laugh

“Yeah, I know.” you wear another amused smile and give a coy shrug, “Cat’s outta the bag.”

-schlatt is significantly less entertained

-the hand clapped over his lower face drops to his side and his lips part to allow his mouth to hang open dumbly as he stares at you

“What?”

-he really thought he had been sooo cool and chill and subtle about it

-how the fuck did you know?

-how long have you known?

-did somebody tell you???

-DO YOU THINK HE’S A WEIRDO PERV FREAK?

-before he got the chance to spiral any further, you’re speaking again,

“No worries, man. I like you too.”

-another pause

-he sits there for a moment, wide eyed and completely still

“WHA-”

-his shout is muffled by you shooting forward to cover his mouth with your own hand

-he groans when the force knocks his head back against the cabinet once more

“Shut the fuck up, my roommate is sleeping.” you hiss

-you watch as his eyes crinkle and feel his lips spread into a smile under your hand before he says something that’s muffled by aforementioned hand

-you laugh and remove it, wiping any spittle he had unintentionally left there off on his shirt

“So, you have a crush on me?” he confirmed aloud, grinning when you nod

“That’s mad embarrassing.”

-his cheeks hurt from how wide he’s smiling at you as you roll your eyes

“Fuckin’ tell me about it.”

-there’s another beat of silence, significantly less awkward this time

-the two of you take a moment to breathe a little easier now that the tension that’s been plaguing both of you in the past weeks has finally been acknowledged

-Schlatt is the first to break it, still a little confident with his lingering buzz

“So…” he starts, “What now?”

-you sigh with another shrug,

“I dunno, it doesn’t have to be like,, serious or anything.”

-he hums, nodding his head with a thoughtful expression as he shifts a little anxiously

-he’d been worried you would say something along those lines

-your promiscuous history nagging at him from the back of his mind

-no judgment or anything, but a “casual” relationship might actually destroy him

-especially with how off kilter you’ve had him with just a crush

-it’s a matter of self preservation, because he knows you have the potential to ruin his life

-and that he would let you

-you watch as he brings his his hands up and presses his fingers together as he struggles to find a way to articulate himself without sounding like an ass

-ESPECIALLY with his major fuck up earlier (even though it seems to have worked out in his favor thus far)

“I don’t think I’d be down for anything that wasn’t… serious.” he made sure to say it slowly, cautiously

-sure to articulate himself in a manner that wouldn’t disturb the serene atmosphere in the bathroom

-his face falls when he hears you suck in a sharp breath through your teeth,

“Right, I figured you’d say something like that. Um,”

-he watches as you sigh and tilt your head back to look at the ceiling like it has the answers written on it

(ignoring how soft the newly exposed expanse of skin looks, muscles flexing underneath as you nervously swallow)

“I’m going to keep it real with you, this is one of the best seasons the team’s had in a long time,” you start, your eyes once again landing on schlatt who nods, urging you to continue

“And right now, I’m not willing to risk having any new distractions to throw me off my game, especially with the end of the season coming up."

-he deflates a bit, cheeks heating up with shame as he begins to brace himself for the sting of rejection

"That, and the fact that I don’t want to end up disappointing you by making any… commitments, that I frankly don’t have the time for right now.”

-Once it seems like you’re finished, schlatt nods again with an understanding hum

-despite not really understanding what you’re getting at

-ARE YOU REJECTING HIM OR NOT, WOMAN?

-GOD

-he watches you bite back a smile

-but it was hard to do with how braindead he looked as he tried to decipher what you were saying

“So what that means is that if you’re willing to hold out until the end of the season….”

-you pause and look at him expectantly, waiting for it to click

“Oh… OH!” and suddenly he’s sitting up a little straighter and bright eyed

-he catches himself getting a little too excited and reels it back in, leaning back against the cabinet with a totally nonchalant shrug,

“I guess that could work…” he hums thoughtfully, stroking the chair on his chin, “But I’d like to make it very clear that you will be the one holding out.”

-now it’s your turn so sit up a little straighter, eyes lighting up as you sense the challenge in is tone

“Yeah?” you ask, tongue darting out to wet your bottom lip as you look him up and down

-he blushes but matches your energy, a rogue grin coming to spread across his lips

“Yeah.”

●・○・●・○・●・

-you would think that having that conversation would have cleared the air a bit

-releasing some of the tension that had been building

-but it most definitely did not.

-as a matter of fact, it seemed to do the exact opposite

-it was brutal, really, being torn between wanting nothing more than to jump your bones the minute the two of you are alone and wanting to beat you in this stupid fucking challenge that he set

-this, combined with your sessions becoming less frequent with the end of the season growing closer and you deciding to make it your personal mission to make his life difficult, made for an incredibly long week

-but he wouldn’t deny that he was enjoying the newfound attention

-it was like the less he saw you, the more forward you became

-growing more determined to break him the closer you got to your final game

-admittedly, he was holding out a little better than you had initially expected

-holding strong when you decided to sit next to him during your tutoring session instead of across from him like you usually would

-pressing the strong line of your thigh snugly against his, the smell of your shampoo clouding his thoughts as he struggled to explain what a quotient was for the thousandth time

-showing up to sit in on his robotics meeting in a compression shirt that has him stumbling over his words every time he snuck a glance at you

-it definitely did not help that almost every time he did, he found that your eyes were already set on him, unmoving when he meets your gaze

-though that’s not to say that it was a cakewalk for you

-the dry spell was brutal, especially considering that beforehand you were getting laid pretty consistently

-the more time that passed, the more desperate you became

-getting to the point where even the smallest things left you reeling

-though you’d rather god strike you dead on the spot than admit it

-but that fucker was already onto you and you knew it

-you could tell by his self satisfied smile after he watched you squirm as he praised you for passing your most recent exam

-or hovering close enough to you that you can can smell his cologne and feel the heat that the warm mass of his body was throwing off

-he’d also stopped bothering to hide his brazen stares, only giving you a toothy grin when you turn and catch his his eyes firmly planted on your ass

-it soon became painfully clear that one of you had to break, and soon

-it’s just funny because

-neither of you expected it to be you

●・○・●・○・●・

-it’d been an unusually free day for both of you, with most of campus being shut down due to a snow storm rolling in

-you’d taken advantage of it, sleeping in until about noon and waking up to flurries of snow falling from the sky and the sound of your roommate watching jersey shore

-you grumble and roll over, ready to go back to sleep until you hear your phone buzz on your nightstand

-you sigh and sit up, running a hand through your hair to get it out of your face before picking it up, a sleepy smile stretching across your lips when you see who had been blowing up your phone

smartfella 🤓: hi 🧍🏻‍♀️

smartfella 🤓: hey lol

smartfella 🤓: u still down to study today or na

smartfella 🤓: a little snow cant stop the grind 💪

fartsmella 🍖: wtf r u talking about

fartsmella 🍖: collaboration office is closed 2day u fool

-you watch his typing bubble pop up and disappear a few times before you receive a response

smartfella 🤓: since when is the collaboration office a concern

smartfella 🤓: we’ve only actually studied there like twice

fartsmella 🍖: what does this have to do with me

smartfella 🤓: 😐

smartfella 🤓: come over

fartsmella 🍖: k

-schlatt lets out a small laugh when he reads your response, a little surprised at how little convincing it took

-but stops laughing when the reality of you coming over sets in

-he panics and lunges out of bed, stumbling due to his legs being tangled in his blankets

-he hurried to make his bed before scurrying around his room to gather any trash he could find before rushing out into the common room, where ted was lounging on the couch

-his roommate’s eyes go a little wide when he sees how frazzled schlatt looks, shouting indignantly when he tears the blanket off of his lap before folding it and throwing it over the back of the couch,

“What the hell, man?!”

-schlatt doesn’t even look over at him as he quickly makes his way to the windows, opening them up and making a desperate attempt to waft out any unpleasant boy smell that may be lingering in the dorm,

“You need to leave.”

“What?”

-ted yelps when schlatt makes his way back over to him and tries to drag him off of the couch

-it quickly turns into a match of slapbox as the two bicker,

“You need to get the hell out of here man-”

“The fuck are you talking about, I live here!”

“Just get the fuck out, please”

“Dude, you can’t just-”

-both of them freeze when they hear two sharp knocks on the door

-eyes darting from each other, then to the door, then back to each other

-before schlatt even has the chance to think, ted is taking advantage of the distraction and shoving him to the floor, sending him stumbling back into the coffee table and knocking his elbow before landing on his ass

-but he gets up impressively fast when he sees ted making his way to the door and hurdles himself after him, hot on his heels

-but he wasn’t fast enough, his eyes going wider when he sees ted’s hand turning the knob

“Wait-”

-but before he can continue to plead, ted is swinging the door open

-silence falls over the dorm once more when ted opens the door

-finding you standing in the hallway

-dressed in a pair of snoopy pajama pants and your team jacket, having just thrown it on over your jammas after rolling out of bed and leaving

-you give the tall stranger in front of you a weird look as he just stares down at you before glancing back to where schlatt was standing closely behind him, looking a little exasperated

-why do his friends always do odd shit like this??

“Uh, Hey.” you try to break the silence

-ted doesn’t respond, only slowly turning his head back to schlatt with a shit eating grin that has his ears turning red

“Just ignore him” Schlatt pleaded

-you only raise your brows, eyes darting between the two men in front of you,

“Right. So are you gonna let me in? Or…”

“Oh! Right, sorry.” ted secedes, stepping out of the way to let you walk in,

“It’s nice to finally put a face to the name, I’m Ted.” he introduces himself with a grin, holding a hand out for you to shake

-you take it, giving it a firm shake as you awkwardly laugh,

“Haha…. what?”

-you’re about to make a comment about how weird the whole interaction has been, but stop when you hear quiet hissing and rustling fabric behind you

-you glance over your shoulder and barely catch schlatt aggressively mouthing something at his roommate before he realizes you’re looking at him and gives you an awkward smile

-your attention is brought back to Ted when he releases your hand,

“Well, I was just about to head out, you kids have fun!” he chirps, before walking out into the hallway and closing the door behind him without another word

-you and schlatt are left in silence for a moment,

“... He didn’t put any shoes on.”

“That’s his problem.”

“That’s foul.”

-you take a moment to briefly glance around, grimacing a bit when you realize just how much nicer the student athlete housing is in comparison

“Damn ma, you live like this?”

-he can’t help but let a laugh slip,

“Welcome to gen pop.”

“Is it legal for them to have you guys in here without heat??” you asked, briskly rubbing your arms in an attempt to warm up after your cold walk to a colder apartment

“No, uhh… the windows are open.”

-both of you turn to look at the aforementioned windows as another cold gust of wind blew in

“Why?”

“Don’t worry about it.”

-you laugh before kicking off your shoes and taking off your jacket before making your way further inside

-you make yourself at home, flopping onto the common room couch

-schlatt follows after you, remaining standing and looking down at you as get comfortable

-gulping when your t-shirt rides up and exposes a sliver your midriff as you lazily slouch

“So you invite me over to freeze and do math? That’s fucked.”

-he chuckles, shaking his head and doing one last scan of the apartment to make sure any embarrassing items are put away and out of sight

-you say something else as he does, but he doesn’t process it

-instead, his eyes are firmly locked on the awful anime poster he and ted ironically put on display on the back wall

-paling when he sees the grotesquely large breasts hanging off of the small anime girl on the poster

-you frown when you see him staring straight over your head, face pale and eyes wide, like he had just seen a ghost,

“Dude, what is your problem?” you ask, moving to turn to see what he was looking at, but pausing when he speaks again

“Weshouldgotomyroom”

-he blurted out the first thing that came to mind, desperate to keep your attention away from the humiliating poster

-he KNOWS you would tear him to shreds for it, and he's not mentally prepared for that

-part of him wants to breathe a sigh of relief when you turn back to fully face him, leveling him with a confused look,

“What?”

-you watch him flounder for a moment

-trying to direct you to his room, away from any chances of seeing the poster, without being suspicious

-any thoughts of anything vaguely suggestive had been completely cleared from his head, solely focused on the task at hand

-but you frown, cocking your head as you look up at him and try to figure out what he’s up to

-because it’s obvious that something has him antsy

“You…” you start slowly, “Want me… to go to your room?” you ask to confirm

-just to make sure

-bc not to be a horndog but like,,, why else would he be rushing you to his room after kicking his roommate out?

“Yeah, yeah, it’ll be uhhh,, less cold in there.”

-he wonders if he’d been caught when your brows briefly raise

-but you follow it with a shrug

“Alright, lead the way.”

-you laugh, a little confused when he comes over and grabs your forearm to drag you off the couch,

“This is new” you simper, and go to look at him over your shoulder once you’re standing,

-but he puts a hand on the small of your back and gives you a rough shove before you get the chance to see the poster, sending you stumbling a bit

“Jesus, I’m going!”

-you walk up to what you’d assumed was his door, and you were about to turn and ask to make sure it was the right one

-but he reaches past you, briefly trapping you between his broad chest and the door, before turning the knob himself and pushing it open, allowing you to walk in ahead of him

-you awkwardly stand in the middle of the room, waiting for him to do something

-you watch as he makes his way over to his desk and comfortably leans back on it, crossing his arms over his chest

-observing you observing him

-something in his chest warms at the sight of you in his space, a small smile spreading across his lips

-you feel your cheeks warm under his gaze and look away, trying to find something to take your attention off of him

-because the longer you look at him the more you feel like you need to be chained to a tree like a goddamn werewolf

-he looks stupidly good for just being in sweatpants and an old tshirt

-the tendons of his forearms flexing where they’re crossed over his chest

-you can see a glimpse of the meat of his upper thigh pressed tightly against the fabric of his sweats with how he’s splaying them on the desk

-with that stupid little smile of his, some of his gorgeous curls falling over his falling over his forehead

-you wipe your palms over the fabric of your pants, hoping to quell the itch to reach out and touch but it doesn’t do much help

-you cough into your fist before matching his stance, crossing your arms as you make it a point to look around

-taking in the variety of band posters and trinkets he has laying about

“‘S cute in here.” you mumble, daring a glance back at him

-and it was a goddamn mistake

-you watch as his small smile curls into something cockier as he slightly tilts his head to the side

-maybe something about you being in his territory has him feeling a little more confidence in himself

-it has you swallowing thickly as he shamelessly eyes you before they slowly trail back up to meet your own

-it may also have something to do with how good he looks

-or how you haven’t gotten any in weeks

-or the cocky lilt to his voice when he speaks

“Yeah?”

-and that’s all it takes to finally crumble your resolve

-before he even has the time to process what’s happening, you’re storming towards him

-he’s looking at you with wide eyes as you plant your hands on the desk behind him, trapping him there as you bully your way between his thighs before crashing your mouth into his hard enough that your teeth clack

-he can’t do much more than groan into it and reach a hand up to squeeze your waist

-sighing as your tongue slips between his lips and one of your hands shifts to grab the underside of his thigh and drag him closer to the edge of the desk

-he gasps when the other comes up to cup the side of his face before slipping behind his neck and knotting into the hair at the base of his skull, roughly tugging his head back to press a trail of wet kisses down the column of his throat

-he brings one of his own hands up to bury itself in your hair as he tilts his head back to grant you more access

-releasing a startled moan when you sharply nip at the soft skin when he gives your own hair an experimental tug

-when he feels your hand begin to snake its way further up his thigh he’s pulling back a bit,

“Hey, wait-” he tries, using his hand in your hair to pull you away from his neck, groaning when you surge forward for another kiss that he forces himself to pull out of,

-whimpering when you catch his bottom lip between your teeth before releasing it with a pop

“What?” you snap impatiently, but it’s awfully hard to take you seriously with your glazed eyes and swollen, spit slick lips

“T-The deal,” he struggles to get it out, chest heaving as he tries to pull himself back together, “What about the deal?”

-anxiety twinges in his chest when you look at him like he’s stupid,

“Your deal?” you correct, clicking your tongue when he gives you a demure nod

“I could not care any less about that stupid fuckin’ thing.” you grumble before trying to lean back in for more

-you glance back up to his face when he shifts to bring a hand up to your shoulder to stop you, frowning when you see his smug grin

“You do realize that this means I win, right?”

-you only scowl,

“Is that really what you’re thinking about right now?”

-he laughs, bringing both of his hands to grab your hips to try and pull you close again,

“‘M sorry, c’mere” he murmurs, grinning when he sees a smile begin to spread across your lips

-despite you rolling your eyes as you allow him to drag you towards him

-this kiss is far less frantic, both of you smiling and sighing into it as his arms come to wrap around your waist, your hands coming up to cup the sides of his face

-you grumble indignantly when you feel him pulling away again, frowning when you feel him unwrap his arms from around you

-but you quit your whining when he uses the newly freed space to stand to his full height before leaning back down to plant another grossly wet kiss on your forehead and squeezing you to his chest in a tight bear hug

-both of you devolve into giggles as he attempts to shuffle towards his bed, struggling as you go limp in his arms to make his life difficult, along with attempting to weave through the laundry he had lying on the floor

-when you finally reach the twin xl, he releases you from his grasp,

-moving his hands to grab the underside of your thighs and hoisting you onto the bed before climbing up after you

-once he’s up there, you make quick work of straddling him, releasing a self satisfied hum once you’re comfortably perched in his lap

-you smile when you see him looking up at you, a little star struck as he takes you in

-blushing when he continues to shamelessly stare as you glare at him

“Dude, what is your problem?”

“You are so fucking hot.” he breathes without missing a beat

-you only nod with a shy smile, a little awkward

“Uh, Thanks.”

-he laughs before leaning forward for another kiss, and you’re happy to indulge him

-surging forward so that he can feel your chest pressed against his own and reaching one of your hands to bury itself back in his hair

-the other makes to grab one of his wrists, guiding his hand to your lower back

-happily sighing when he takes the hint and grabs a firm handful of your ass with a groan

-it isn’t long until the his free hand slipped under your shirt

-sighing into your mouth when he feels the strong muscles of your back shift under smooth skin as you grind into his lap

-you hum against his lips and grin into the kiss before pulling back, catching your breath with a toothy smile before reaching down to pull your shirt over your head

-you eagerly lean back in for more, glaring when he stops you with a hand to your waist

-he curses under his breath, and you feel him shift under you so he could lean back to get a better view of you

“Fuuuuck,” he breathes, running a hand up from where it hand gone to rest on your hip back up to your waist, grabbing it hard enough to bruise, strong fingers pressing into the firm muscle there

-You laugh, slightly abashed at how openly he was admiring you

-but you don’t let it stop you from taking his wrist and using it to guide his hand to paw at your chest

-gasping when he shifts forward to press his mouth to the newly exposed skin, grinning at your quiet laughter as his facial hair rubs against you

-your moan harmonizes with his as he sinks his teeth into the meat of your shoulder before pulling back to admire his handiwork

-frowning when he sees that not too far from the angry red indents his teeth had left

-were very faint red marks that dragged all the way down to your lower traps

-he quickly pulls back and gives you a bewildered look, eyes wide

-your eyes get just as wide, if not bigger as you scramble to defend yourself

-having already known what the hold up was

“Hold on- Those are mad old, on my mother’s soul.”

“Don’t bring your mother into this,” he scolds before leaning back and looking at your other shoulder, finding similar markings there,

“How old?” he asked cautiously

“Pre-comeback,” you promise, “And she was fucking crazy.”

he raises an entertained brow as he looks down at you, “Good crazy or bad crazy?”

-you paused, taking a moment to hum thoughtfully before answering,

“A little bit of both?”

-he pulled away for a moment to narrow his eyes at you before grumbling a quick “‘s fine.” before resuming his assault on your neck and shoulders

-you laughed a little as you felt him sucking and biting new marks of his own into your skin to quell the jealousy churning in his stomach

-it wasn’t long before he was trying to slip his hand down the front of your pants, coming to a sharp stop when he hears you speak

“Wait-”

-he frowns when you grab his wrist, stopping him

-he looks up to gage your expression, releasing the breath he had been holding when he sees you eagerly looking down at him

“Can I take your pants off?”

-he takes his hands off of you, instead opting to recline back onto the bed and folding his hands behind where his head now rests on his pillow

-you gasp when you feel his bulge press against you as his hips shift while he readjusts,

-face reaching a quite frankly humiliating temp when you see his stupid cocky grin

“I thought you’d never ask,”

-you scowl as you crawl off of him, moving back to kneel between his legs

“Don’t do that again.”

-he goes BRIGHT fucking red when you move to grab him underneath both of his knees and momentarily push them up, making quick work of effortlessly removing his pants for him before tossing them somewhere random in the room

“The basket was right there.” he scolds you, a desperate attempt to regain some of his dignity

“Shut up.”

-he goes to argue, make a comment about how bossy you’re being,

-but his mouth snaps shut as you move to comfortably kneel on your haunches, muscles of your thighs bulging with the new position

-you set him down on your lap, his ass planted firmly between your strong thighs with his legs hanging over your hips

-he gasps as you hum, running your hand from where it rested on top of his thigh up to the hem of his shirt, toying with it a moment before moving to pushing it up under his chin, exposing his chest

-his face somehow gets more red, and he resists the urge to bring his hands up to cover himself like some blushing virgin

-you let out another hum as you run your hands up and down his sides before bringing them to rest on his hips

-he bites back a whimper when he feels your one of your hands move down to paw at his bulge, cooing at the small dark spot where pre had leaked through his boxers

“This wet from a little kissing, baby?” you mock with a little laugh

-your head snaps up, brows raised toward your hairline when you hear him release a barking laugh followed followed with a

“What the fuck?”

-he can’t help but let it get away from him, devolving into a fit of laughter as he brings his hands to cover his face,

“Oh my god, what the fuck?”

-you laugh a bit as well, bringing your hands away from his crotch to rest near his knees, thumb running over the soft hair there

“What?” you urge

“Nothing, nothing,” he laughs, struggling to catch his breath, “Jus haven’t really done…” he pauses to motion to where he was splayed in your lap “this before”

-your eyes go wide and you take your hands off his knees like the skin had burned you

“Fuck, you’re not a virgin, are you?”

“Do I look like a virgin to you?”

-he scowls when you don’t answer

“Fuck off. ‘m not a fuckin virgin.”

“Sounds like something a virgin would say.” you tease, laughing when he glares at you, “Sorry, sorry. I think I know what you’re talking about.”

“Yeah, I just uh,, never been on this end before, I guess.” he admits

“Mhm,” you hum understandingly, hand coming to absentmindedly pet along the outside of his thigh as you observe him, “Do you like it?”

-he blushes, anxiously shifting his hips where they rest in your lap, dick straining against his boxers as the dark spot gradually grows larger

“I think I do…” he admits, a little shy

-you hum again, hand rubbing a little further up his thigh as your eyes rove over his body, stopping to meet his sheepish gaze,

“I think you do, too”

- he feels his brain go gooey as your lips curl into a predatory smile as you move both of your hands to grab at his squirming hips

“I think you like it a lot.” you look back up at him through your lashes

“‘S a shame I thought you would’ve put up more of a fight, didn’t think to bring my fuckin strap.” you grumbled

-you gave him another confused look when he scrambled to pull himself out of your lap, eyes wider now

“Hold the fuck up- Your what?”

-you look at him like he’s an idiot before speaking again,

“I- What? My strap, what do you think this is?”

“I definitely didn’t wake up this morning thinking I’d be getting fucking pegged!”

“I mean, I didn’t think I’d touch a dick today but you don’t hear me complaining.”

“Oh, fuck you.” he scoffs,

-you run a frustrated hand through your hair, angrily throwing your other hand in the air,

“If you’d fucking let me.”

-he lets out a disbelieving laugh as you frown at him

“Well, what now?” you ask impatiently

“What’re you talking about?”

“I don’t really know what else you want me to do, so…”

-schlatt gapes at you for a moment, hands flailing as he struggles to pull his thoughts together

“I- You- I thought we were fucking?”

“Fucking how?” you snap

“I thought I was gonna fuck you, dipshit.”

-he bites back a laugh when he sees you malfunction for a moment, mouth falling open and snapping shut a few times as your cheeks heat up

“Is that okay?” he asks, a teasing lilt to his voice

“... I guess I can work with that, “ you start, “Hold on, here-”

-you move to tug him back from where he had scrambled back on the bed so that he was once again sitting with his legs splayed out, and you moved to sit back between his legs

-one of your hands reaches for the band of his boxers, you glance up at him for assurance, continuing when he gives you a short nod

-he pretends not to be offended when you flinch back after his cock springs out of his boxers when you pull them down,

-cooing as it twitches and drools more pre onto the skin below his belly button as you delicately run your finger from the base to the tip

“You have a condom?” you asked, looking up at him

“You don’t have one?” he asked a little incredulously

“Not ‘round here, partner.”

-he dramatically sighed as he stretched to rifle through his bedside cabinet, tossing the condom he had thankfully stolen from the front desk of the health office the other day at yoy

-you catch it with ease

-bringing it to your mouth to tear the packaging open with your teeth before delicately taking the latex ring out of the packaging, looking at it curiously

-he sucks in a sharp breath when your free hand comes to grab the base of his cock a little firmer than he would have expected, watching the cogs in your brain turn as you intensely stare at it

“All good?” he asks

“Yeah, just don’t look at me,” you request with a laugh, which he returns until he sees your face drop and you look at him expectantly,

“Oh, uh, okay..?” he says, a little confused, but willing to tilt his head back to the ceiling

-throwing an arm over his eyes when the urge to look grows too strong for him to resist

-he’s gasping, his hips jumping as he feels you fiddle with the condom on his sensitive tip, growing antsy the longer you seemed to just be fucking around

-he sits up with a shout when something, he doesn’t even fucking know what, pulls painfully,

“Jesus!” He snaps, “The fuck’re you doing down there?”

-he glares when you laugh a little, holding your hands up in defeat as you look at him with a guilty smile, like you were caught in an act,

“My bad, man” you laugh a little,

“Kinda used to, uh… working with a different set ‘a parts, here.” you admit

“Hold on-” he starts, quickly sitting back up to look at you with wide eyes,

“What?” his eyes dart from where your hand is still wrapped around him, to your other hand that’s holding the now slightly unraveled condom, then back to you

-his brows furrowing, a little concerned

“Is this… not kind of a big deal?” he asks, a little unsure

-you narrow your eyes at him, lips twitching into a wry smile,

“Don’t flatter yourself. Jus’ put the condom on, big guy.”

-he laughs and thoughtlessly does as you say

-brain mushy as looks up at you as you move to straddle him again,

-eyes going a little wide when you reach back and wrap your hand around his length and moving to align yourself with the tip

“WOAH- Alright- Slow your roll there, no prep is fucking crazy. Especially if it’s your first-”

-he’s cut off by a short moan being punched out of him as he feels his tip just barely breach your impossibly tight heat, it taking every ounce of his willpower to keep his hips from jumping up

“Ffuuck-” he whined, throwing his head back and thickly swallowing, hands shooting up to dig his fingers into your sides hard enough to bruise as he tries to keep you from sinking down any further

-his grip doesn’t do much to stop you, ignoring his gasping as you struggled to sink lower, hissing at the stretch, thighs trembling with the effort of hovering over him

“Hold on, I need to- Fucking- Ah-!”

-you whimpered, leaning forward to plant one of your hands on his chest for leverage, essentially pinning him down in the process

-he gapes up at where you hover over him, cheeks flushed and brows pinched together, mouth dropping open with a silent moan as you clenched around him

“Fuck, please-” he pleaded, no longer concerned with preserving his pride as he whined, his voice raising gradually raising in pitch the more desperate he became

“You need to get off, please, fuck, I-”

-he’s cut off by your own whiney voice,

“Fuck- Please, please, Jay,” you mewled, gritting your teeth as you struggled to take more, “Want it to hurt- fuck-”

-that damn near did the man in

-he’s left with no other choice but to use his grip on your waist to tear you off of his lap, ignoring your yelp as he suddenly slips out of you

-he took advantage of your brief moment of discombobulation, taking the chance to flip the two of you so that he was hovering over you, putting you in a similar position to the one you’d had him in earlier

-though now he was was caging you below him, hands firmly planted by the sides of your head so that all of your senses were completely overtaken by him

-his cheeks are flushed and he's glowing with a thin sheen of sweat, his hair going a bit curlier, a few strands sticking to his forehead

-and he is fucking glaring at you, chest heaving as he struggles to even his breathing back out

“You-” he panted, “Are a real piece of fucking work, you know that?”

-you grinned, breathlessly laughing up at him

-but it’s quickly cut off when one of his large hands darts up to roughly grab your jaw, squishing your cheeks to forcibly silence you

-making it a point to shake you a little bit, just because he could

“I’m not fucking laughing,” he gritted, leaning down so that face was close enough to yours that you could feel the puffs of his breath on your cheeks

“You’ve done nothing but give me fuckin problems, y’know that? I should fuckin’ kick you out and make you wait the last four days.”

-he falters when you let out a keening moan, looking up at him with bleary eyes as you press your thighs together

-he exhales through his nose, still glowering as he gives your face another shake,

“Lucky you’re so fuckin’ cute,” he murmurs lowly, leaning down to plant a hard kiss on your forcibly pouted lips before releasing your face

“Now, ‘m gonna stretch you out, and you’re gonna fuckin like it,” he explains, before grabbing the base of his cock and teasingly tapping it against your mound a couple of times, grinning when your hips cant up,

“and then you’ll get what you want. That sound good, sweetheart?”

-his lips spread into another grin when you quietly whine, dumbly nodding up at him

“Yeah, ‘s what I fuckin thought.” he huffed cockily

-any concerns you’d previously had with the… competence of his dexterity were quickly blown out the window the second he brought a hand down, swiping his fingers through your slit

-your eyes go wide and you flush when he brings his fingers to his mouth with a groan, closing his eyes in ecstasy as he sucked the slick off of his fingers before dipping his hand back down for more

-running his fingers through your folds again, coming to swirl around your sensitive nub for a moment before gliding back down to circle your hole

-grinning when your hips jump and you bring your head up to watch as he touches you

-you release a guttural moan when he dips one of his fingers into you, throwing your head back as it curls inside of you, twitching as it presses up against your gummy walls

“Hands’re so fucking big, Jay, fuck-” you whine as he bullies another into you, releasing a hard exhale as he feels your stupidily wet heat squeeze around him

“So fucking sensitive, baby,” he coos as you convulse around his knobby fingers, “Wha’sa matter, those girls not taking care of you? hm?”

-he only laughs as you whine up at him, free hand firmly planting itself on your lower stomach to keep you from bucking away as the sensation grows more intense

-he makes quick work of making you come undone, you being brought to the brink of an orgasm embarrassingly quickly as he worked you like a goddamn fiddle

-he moans with you, dick twitching where it lays against you as he feels you gush around his fingers, groaning when your trembling thighs clench around his hand, trapping it there until you’ve ridden out your high

-you go a little limp once the aftershocks finally leave you, humming when you feel schlatt press his weight on top of you as he descends to plant a few kisses on your chest and up your neck

“You here with me, sweetheart?” he asks, lightly tapping the side of your face as your eyes roll back to the front of your skull

“Mmmh, ‘m here.” you mumble, squishing your cheek into the palm of his hand when it comes to rest on your face

-looking up at him with a dopey smile that he returns with a grin of his own

“You alright?” he asks, grinning when you respond with a noncommittal hum

“You think you’re ready for more?”

-now that gets your attention

-he chuckles when you surge forward fast enough that your heads almost knock together

“Can I get back on top?” you ask eagerly, seemingly to suddenly regain sentience

“I don’t know, are you gonna act right?”

“Probably not.”

“Fair enough,” he laughs, but still moves to settle back on his back beneath you as you perch yourself in his lap once more

-he hisses as you use a hand to realign him with yourself,

“Slow, baby, please” he pleads as you run the tip through your folds, enamored with how pretty the head glistened with your slick

-you only hummed, looking up at him as you fixed to sink down onto him once more, slowly, like he had asked

-taking time to enjoy the significantly less painful stretch this time, mouth dropping open and forming a little ‘o’ as you watched schlatt throw his head back with a strained moan

-he forced himself to bring his head back up to watch as you took all of him, cursing when your ass finally meets the top of his thighs and you take a moment to adjust

-you let out a shaky moan once he’s fully seated inside you, hands shooting to grab onto his shoulders the moment he shifts to sit up, big hands coming to rest on your hips as you adjusted to the intrusion

-he let out a pleased hum as you used your grip on his shoulders to pull him in for a needy kiss, whining into his mouth as you shifted to slowly drag your hips up before sinking back down

-it goes like this for a few minutes, sighing into each other as you both basked in the feeling of being connected

-but it wasn’t long until you were gently pushing him back down and planting your hands on his chest to pin him to the mattress once more, looking down at him with an eager grin

“Y’ ready?”

-he smirks up at you, awfully cocky for somebody pinned to the bed,

“Been waitin’ on you.”

“Fuck off.”

-he goes to make another snarky comment, but is cut off by his own sharp gasp when you begin to try and find a rhythm, hands shooting up to your waist in a death grip as you bounce on him

-his grip loosens when you slow down, finding a comfortable pace that his him throwing his head back and groaning, struggling to bring it back up so he could watch you ride him, unwilling to miss the view

-you were lost in your own world on top of him, covered in a thin sheen of sweat, head thrown back as your muscles shift and flex with the exertion

-yelping and leaning forward to hover over him when his hips buck up to meet your ass, and he moans at the sight of you

“Fuck, baby” he gritted, “Take it so fucking good, fuck”

-he grinned at your keening moan when he began to piston his hips up into yours, you fall forward to plant your face in the crook of his neck, panting and mouthing at the skin there as your hips stop, allowing him to take over for a moment

-he laughed breathlessly as you moaned into his ear,

“That good?” he teased, mewling when you sink your teeth into the column of his throat, growing needy at the sensation

-his hands moved from your waist to your hips, digging his fingers into the meat there as he attempted to drag you up and down his length

“C’mon doll, ride it- please-”

-he watches as you sit back up on top of him, grinning wolfishly down at him with flushed cheeks before once again finding your rhythm, moans punched out of you each time he meets one of your thrusts

-he clicks his tongue disapprovingly when he sees you bring one of your hands down to toy with your clit as you bounce on him, making quick work of roughly grabbing your wrist and pulling it away so that he could do it himself, groaning when he feels you squeeze him hard enough that he was worried he might pop

-it was a race to the end from that point on, fucking each other stupid as both of you try to make the other finish first

-schlatt is the first to break, cumming with a long, low groan and a thrust up into you hard enough that it almost knocks you off balance

-you stop for a moment to watch him ride it out, mouth dropping into in ‘o’ as his brows pinch up together, back arching as his hands hold you still on top of him with a bruising grip

-however, his low moans pitch up into something higher and whinier as you start bouncing again, abusing his poor spent cock :(

-but it’s not long until you’re following his lead, lurching forward to sink your teeth into his neck to muffle your moan as your walls spasm around him, cock twitching and managing another weak spurt of seed as he whimpers

-both of you lay there for a moment, panting into each other’s skin as you both try to recover

-you hum and melt into him when his arms come up to wrap around you, squishing you to his chest as he sighs

“Y’good?”

-you don’t respond immediately, turning your head so you can look up at him from where your cheek is smushed to his chest “Mhm,”

-he groans when you plant a hand on his face and use it to push yourself back into an upright position, laughing when he nips at your fingers,

“Can you pull out, though? I can feel it getting soft,” you say with a grimace

“Fucking- Don’t make that face??” he laughs a bit at your slightly sour expression, “And you’re literally on top of me.”

“Oh, right,” you laugh, moving to get off of him, gasping when he slips out of you

-you stay seated on his thighs, watching with interest as he peels the condom off of him and ties it off, laughing when you lean forward and look at it, your nose scrunching,

“Eugh,”

-he rolls his eyes at the childish sound,

“Didn’t seem grossed out when you were bouncin’ on it.” he grumbled, smirking when he sees your cheeks go red again

-you remain perched on his lap for a moment, unsure of what to do with yourself

-but he doesn’t leave you up there long, reaching up to grab your upper arm and drag you down beside him, smushing the two together on the twin xl

-you watch as he closes his eyes for a moment as he comfortably rests his head on his pillow, hair a mess, flushed cheeks, bruised neck

-he peaks an eye open when he feels you staring,

“The fuck is your problem?”

-you only hum, eyes soft as they take in his features, bringing up a hand to brush some of the hair off of his forehead,

“‘M just lookin,” you mumble, grinning when his cheeks flush and he swatted his hand away,

“Would you quit it? Shit’s freaking me out.”

“You’re freaked out? I just touched a dick for the first time and you’re freaked out?” you ask with a laugh, cheeks hurting as you watch his lips spread into a grin as well,

“Sounds like a you problem, toots.” he laughed, yelping a bit when you reached out to twist of some the hair on his chest, “Took it like a champ, though.”

“I sure as sure as shit did.” you say cockily, looking up at him with a toothy grin, “You’re next.”

-he pulls back to look at you, furrowing his brow at the vaguely threatening statement,

“What?”

-you only release a content sigh as you snuggle closer to him, comfortably closing your eyes once you’ve settled

“When I bring this season home, I’m taking my victory lap inside of you.”

-he only laughs, not taking you seriously as he drags you closer and plants a kiss on your sweaty forehead

“Yeah, we’ll see about that.”

-he pales when your eyes snap back open, looking at him intensely for a moment for sleepily drooping shut again,

“Jus’ wait.”

●・○・●・○・●・

-a few hours later, you wake up from your nap discombobulated, phone being blown up by your roommate, who was worried you’d died after not coming home from what was supposed to be a two hour tutoring session

-schlatt grumbles when you sit up, blearily reaching out to try and pull you back down, whining when you swat his hands away,

“Where’re you goin?”

-you sigh, turning off your phone and carding a hand through his hair,

“I gotta go,” you murmur, a small smile stretching across your lips when he presses his face into the side of your thigh,

“Nooooo,”

-you allow him to cling to you for a moment before gently removing his hands from you and moving to climb off the bed,

“Claire’s separation anxiety is kicking, gotta get back before she has an aneurysm.” you explain as you gather your clothes off the floor

-he sits up to watch you move around the room, grinning when he sees you grab the sweatshirt hanging over the back of his chair and pull it over your head, leaving your own on the floor

-his raises a brow when he sees you grab his pair of pre-cum soiled boxers off the ground and shove them into the pocket of your sweats,

“‘M taking these.”

“You’re fucking sick” he laughs, cheeks going bright red when you grin and make your way back to where he’s sitting in bed

“Mhm,” you hum, leaning in for a kiss which he gladly gives you, quick to grab the side of your face to pull you in deeper, tilting his head for a better angle when he slips his tongue into your mouth

-you sigh before pulling back, rolling your eyes at his petulant grumble

“I’m going now.”

“Fine.”

-but he can’t maintain his pout when you lean in and give him one more chaste kiss, quickly pulling back before he gets any more ideas,

“I’ll see you around, ‘kay?”

-he only hums, dragging his hand down your arm as you pull away,

“Seeya.”

-he flops back into his bed when he hears his door clicked closed, sighing before pulling out his phone to give ted the okay to come back

-you walk past him lounging in a common area on his way out, biting back a grimace at the sight of his bare feet on the communal couch and sending him a polite wave

-his brows shoot up when he takes in your quite frankly inappropriate appearance

-hair mussed, swollen lips, bruised neck and donning a sweatshirt that he knew belonged to his roommate

“Learn anything new?” he asked teasingly

-you only grin as you continue to walk past,

“You have no idea.”

●・○・●・○・●・

That’s it guys. Sorry she took so long, was on my prophetic bullshit last night

also if you’re a podcasting white man who reached the end of this, GET BACK 🤺

i’d like to make it clear that this is more of a fantasy projected onto a random face on the internet, it just happened to be jschlatt. OOPS

alr have a good one and thanks for reading

later.

#jschlatt x reader #jschlatt x y/n #jschlatt x you #schlatt x reader #schlatt x y/n #schlatt x you #jschlatt fanfic #jschlatt smut #hockey!gf #freakybap

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