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argreion · 3 days

Note

"Soft/smutty requests" you say, I can only think about comfort sex.

Putting it in short, reader is having a really bad day, or week, or month, too many thoughts about the future. Leon also is at his limit, back from a mission that lasted two weeks, mf got an injure he can barely stand.

Both exhausted with the head full of shit, not even a word is spoken during dinner, not even to ask why this man walks like he has a stick up to his ass. But when it's time to sleep and the lights off, that's when the heart opens. Cuddle and chatting session to catch up, turning into a slow fuck, full of kisses and the love both starved the time he was gone, of course, careful not to make his wound worse.

May not be a proper request, I've never done one, but feel free to expand the concept!

Sun-kissed

“Words are where most change begins.” — Brandon Sanderson

𝑾𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 — P in V/Riding, soft loving sex turned into Leon wanting pussy 'cause I said so. Lots of praise and sappy talk. A tiny bit of degradation. BIG hint towards cunnilingus. Talk of Leon's pain (suicide talk, drinking, possibly overdose talk cause I forgot if I kept it in. Alongside tiny blood and gore talk if it counts.) Stupid cringey argument over a table, because tables have FEELINGS.

𝑾𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝑪𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕 — 7.4k

𝑵𝒊𝒄𝒉𝒐𝒍𝒆❜𝒔 𝑵𝒐𝒕𝒆𝒔 — So, uh, hi! UHM, I yapped a lot. I actually really enjoyed this! Uhm, I don't think really counts as comfort sex anymore considering this was an ask from two weeks ago BUTTTTT, I did go a lot into comfort and talking and emotions! Think it balances out! Kind of scared to post this but I know I got my moots love on this! Keeps me going! This MIGHT be shittily written cause lazily edited it so if there are mistakes you didn't see anything.

Please, make Leon wear his back brace and take his medication after he's home (P.S. don’t let Leon know we’ll be going to bingo.) — Ingrid.

Your eyes ran over the pastel yellow note from the bottom of Leon’s pill bottle. Standing in the bathroom with a hand on your hip. Brows furrowed at this peculiar find. That was odd, wondering how the government could sneak notes under pill bottles. First, it was learning who Hunnigan was and then realizing what kind of sneaky woman she could be when needed. Felt good to have her as a friend sometimes, even when it was her being on Leon's case.

That was before Leon arrived back at your front door. His arm pressed against the door frame with the most painful grin ever. Leon's teeth clenched and his breath stunk—doubt he even had mouthwash or toothpaste on hand on a mission. Not to mention the dirtied clothes, reeking of gore, and gunpowder. Your nose wrinkled at the smell and your sinuses hated it.

“You stink.” You stated the observation out loud. Hoping he’d explain, but he didn’t.

“Don’t ask about work.”

Leon brushed past you, stumbling against the wall. The grime on his shirt now taints soft colors on the painted wall. Of course, you helped him—that’s human decency—gently pushing the man to sit on the sofa, squeaking as his weight hit the cushions. Watching the dip on the sofa from his weight.

“Well, Leon," You started, reaching out to help him with his shirt. This had become the norm—the one routine you did every time he came back. Strip, bandage, bath, sleep, followed with food after he woke up. “You don't expect me to be curious when you come home stinking of ass? And you're—"

Your words caught in your throat as Leon helped you remove his shirt. Letting the stained fabric fall onto the floor, revealing many things you didn't wish to see—heaven forbid it came from Leon. Cuts, bruising, and a gunshot wound. Anger filled your body as you stared at the artwork. Is this even art? If so, it's beautifully grotesque.

“Don't ask about work, huh?" You repeated, tilting your head with a raised eyebrow. Won't even talk about work, but he'll make hints about Raccoon City like it's nothing. Nobody even knew what happened to Raccoon City still, but many could guess.

“Don't look like that, you'll get more wrinkles." The man smirked, using his fingers to flick your nose. Laughing at you flinching back and smacking at his arm.

“Dipshit, do you think this is the time for jokes!?” Concern boiled over into rage at his nonchalant attitude. Flicking of a nose, a joke, smirking, did he not value himself? Could a man not value himself but rather his looks? The jokes he makes that rarely hit and often made you cringe at the cheesiness.

Sometimes he didn't, did he? A year ago you remember when Chris pulled you along into a bar in Colorado. Colorado. You remember what Chris said without delving too deep into what was your mind,

“I wouldn't want you here unless it was needed. Please, talk to him."

Sitting there with tired eyes he was. A bottle of ‘Aerial Shot’ in his hand. Worn biker gloves with the stench of sweat and unwashed leather. You'd never seen him look so dead before.

The worst part was meeting his gaze. Awkwardly taking those seemingly quiet steps to sit beside him. What do you say to a man that's dying? Leon should've already been dead at this point. Gunshot wound, infected, surviving things. No wonder he never wanted to watch The Walking Dead. Why'd it take you a year to understand that? Guns and brains set him off, as did drinking too much.

“You're probably wondering why I'm here, huh?" You chuckled, staring down at the table. Blessing Chris and Rebecca for the heart-to-heart—one chance to get through to a stubborn man.

No response came from him. Body language said a lot for him instead. Tense, grip tightening on his shot glass. Impregnated silence… Was he that bad at saying a yes or no?

“This is the part where you say yeah, Leon."

He sighed, leaving you alone at the table. Picking the bottle up alongside himself like it's his baby. Did a bottle ever go ‘guu’?

Your hands laced together as you heard the gentle thumps of his boots slowly fading into the background. Chris wasn't happy, you could hear the steam coming from his ears. Wanting to cause a scene because someone was too much of a depressed loner to talk.

No, he just needs something firmer. Strong. Get the damn fucking bastard out and off of his own arse.

You moved out of the chair to follow after Leon. He always disappeared into the bathroom. Hope was something powerful, something you always had for Leon. Hoping he changed slightly, hoping that he could be changed.

Slamming open the bathroom door to reveal that Leon was splashing his face with the sink while washing the ghost that haunted him. Their screams, tearful eyes, the sounds of people eating each other alive. Then there was you coming to lecture him on the right path—something he knew he didn't need.

Your hand grabbed at his shoulder, halting his frantic washing. Overlooking him like his disappointed mother. Brows furrowed like her, too. Made him crumble into shambles as you reminded him so much. Remind him of an angel from the heaven he heard of. Why must you haunt him so?

“Stop avoiding this, Leon."

"You shouldn't be here at all. Chris is an idiot for even bringing you here." He snapped, shrugging your hand off of his shoulder.

He buried his head in his hands, groaning. Alcohol wasn't saving him from this vacation nor the stare of the woman he loved. Where was God when you needed him? Your angel was mean, father, mean for making him realize things.

“Look," you started, moving his hand away from his face. “I'm here on personal matters too, not just because Chris wanted me here."

Your arms encircled him and your chest pressed against his back. Looked like you were a koala on its mama. All snug and warm, despite the smell of a sweaty old man.

“They need you, Leon—I need you." The whisper fell from your mouth and into his ear. How'd animators draw flowing notes of music? Each word hit his heart, especially the last three.

At Leon's core, he was still like he was when he was twenty-one. Human.

Your hands moved over his, holding them. Protecting him from the mental battle in his head. You knew how much it meant to him to have you here. Regardless if it was after a fight, or when he was drinking.

“I know it's probably hard, ok? Killing things, coming home aching, and getting no break. I can't help you because I'm not exactly qualified for what you do, am I?"

The small sounds of you shuffling caught his attention. A small movement and you came into his peripheral vision. Standing there with a kind smile. Please, go away.

"I also know you probably don't want me here either. It hurts to know you can't avoid certain things. You probably couldn't avoid Chris. Just be glad it's me and not him… He's, well, something else with emotions.” You laughed, looking away from him in the mirror. Staring at yourself in the mirror then at him.

Staring at him made you realize a lot. Pain and resentment emanating from him. With each rise and fall of his chest, you could see it more. Even when he met your gaze at the mirror. You wish he got help.

Sometimes the value of man could be seen through gazes, words, and even their hands. Body language said a lot, and so did their responses. You thanked yourself and Chris for helping him become checks today. Well, mostly Chris. Sometimes, you couldn't help but think he needed something normal in his life.

Someone normal.

Something normal to him became jokes like these. Bleeding on a couch and there he was, flicking noses. Kennedy's charm never failed as you were defeated by his nonchalant attitude at home.

“Wrinkles, huh?" You sighed, kissing his forehead gently. Letting your nose rest in his hairline as you thought of what to do.

Ice…? A doctor's visit, too. Guess we're his little booker and Leon's the celebrity. The stunt celebrity who every day seemingly breaks his ass. What a silly comparison you thought of.

“Let's just make sure you're not dying, Leon. And then maybe we can have pasta. Your mother's recipe.”

“Mom's recipe was always good…” He tilted his head up slightly, using his fingers to gently push your head away. Made you flinch as he stood up, excusing himself towards the bathroom. Hearing him yell out towards you,

“And please, stop trying to eat my hair! It's not for sale, and I doubt it ever will be! Not until I'm old and wrinkly, then you can eat it. Scottie's Special Spaghetti!"

Hair spaghetti wasn't the only thing that began to happen. Pills weren't his savior, as were the copious amounts of bandages used. Took an hour for one cut to stop bleeding, and then another started. Drove you to insanity as you stared at another box.

Shuffles across the wooden floor caught your attention. Forgetting the box to opt to peek out the door. Did Leon really not take a doctor's call to rest? Doctor's word was best, and he was too dense to not listen.

There he was, shuffling towards the bathroom where you were. Resting your hand on the door frame, you watched the suffering begin. Annoyed mutters as he finally makes it to the door, giving a smile. Hand on the wall to balance himself.

“You have a stick up your ass walking like that."

Leon huffed, forehead wrinkling at your blunt statement. Spare him a little mercy, he can't sit down. couldn't sit down ever since Spain. He had to help one way or another, didn't sit with him right—Wouldn’t sit with him. “What do you want me to do? I thought we were supposed to help each other." He argued, his grip on the wall faltering. It'd be like Humpty Dumpty. The eggshell wouldn't crack, his back would. Well, probably a lot more than his back, technically.

"Well, Leon, I know you aren't going to sit your bum down and rest. I'm very tempted to force meds down your throat so you take care of yourself.” Your eyebrows were furrowed, pointing towards the living room. Did you need to be here? Explaining to the poor bastard to just relax? If Chris could come home more often than Leon, he was doing something wrong.

What did you say?

It caught Leon's attention, his hand twitching as he leaned up against the wall. There goes his pinky and there goes his thumb. Leaning down despite the rising pain inside my back. Exploding like pop rocks. A warzone at his lower back.

“Force meds down my throat?" The word rolled off his tongue. Followed by frustration, and that you even had the gall to say that. A bad taste settled in as words died in his throat. Being held back by his rationality. No one wanted the pretty guy to be an ass. He doesn't want to be, but what people say the least… exotic. No, exotic was a nice term to him. Peculiar, very-fuckin'-peculiar.

“Fine… I'll rest. If I hear a damsel or damoiseau in distress, busting my sticked-up ass for them.”

His white flag was accepted as he gave a kiss to your forehead. Dry crusty lips that needed that lip balm he loved. First, it was collecting guns. Then a record from the 1950s exploded into what was the wall of wonder. Wondering what deranged person decided to put records on the wall. Wish he didn't try to keep up with the times. Seeing Pinterest girls with records on their walls. Restaurants in New Orleans—a city of jazz and comfort food—follow the same deal. Now it's lip balm, lips soft and sweet. Something he adored by giving kisses. Sweet strawberry, benevolent blueberry, wonderful watermelon. Seriously, he needed to stop naming lip balms… His lips were already sweet enough without them.

With the parting of lips to a forehead, he bid adieu. Pushing himself back into the living room with the TV a bit too loud for your liking. He's already losing some his hearing, poor guy. Made you smile at him being logical, returning to check on things in the bathroom.

Why were you buying yourself time till dinner? It was a good time to ponder what'd you make. What was near itGive? Was he near his date? What, why'd that come into your head?

To be frank, it was only a day since Leon came home. One day since he got to rest. How long could he keep this up? Were you a good lover for doubting him? Doubting someone you trust felt wrong. It was wrong, wasn't it? Watching a man come home more broken than before. The cracking of the perfect man in some ways. Leon always screamed the guy with the suburban house and wonderful wife.

Cracks weren't good for what he was. Every day, he seemed to grow another falling apart. Leon couldn't have known. He didn't genuinely know anything aside from killing. Didn't know what normal life in some ways felt like. Was his nine-to-five killing? It was like the records he collected. They're dated, like him. Spinning again with a needle to them. Instead, there was a bullet threatening to put a hole through his head.

“Why do I wonder about this theory…” Leon muttered into the air. Fading into the sounds of the TV. Letting out a heavy sigh as he let himself stare into the TV. Drowning out his thoughts.

He just couldn't, though.

Why would you shove drugs into his throat? Was he such an old man to you? 'Here you go, gramps, your medicine.’ Taken daily and gulped down with water.

The very thought of that sent him spiraling. Why was he always babied? He's not an idiot just because he has a perfect face. What was the count of proving people with his skill? Four? Three? Fuck, he lost count. His own lover? Made him pissed off at himself if he couldn't at least prove to you he's perfectly capable of taking care of himself. In his mentation, he slammed his fist on the table. Thoughts like these made him resent his parents for good genetics; he didn't want good genetics, he wanted to be treated decently.

The sound echoed through the apartment, causing you to jump. Almost dropping whatever was in your hand. Shoving it onto the sink as you feared the worst.

What if he fell?

“...Leon?" Your voice was soft, as if scared. Looked around the corner to just see a closed fist on the wood. Observing it raise to reveal a crack in the wood.

"LEON!?”

His neck snapped at the sound of your voice. Watching the frenzied grabbing of a coffee table. Looking at it like it was a baby. People and their grandparents' furniture… Ironic, giving his alcoholism still. The baby he couldn't give up.

“W-why did you do that!?"

A sharp slap against Leon's cheek from you sent him overboard. On instinct twisting your arm. Pain sprouting through it, Indian burns hurt. Hated when kids at school did it too. All for laughs when someone's in pain.

You yanked your arm out of his grasp. Rubbing the irritated skin as you spat incensed words.

“You know how important that table is to me! How am I supposed to show my parents it's cracked? Are you dumb!? Did being shot in the back make you stupid? Or did it miss to hit your brain!?”

Words gushed out without thought. Leon is staring at you like a hurt puppy. You wanted his head blown off? Why would you say that over a table?

“You wanted me to die?" He asked calmly, gripping the couch arm as he sat up. Swinging his legs over the side. “Or did it miss to hit your brain?"

“N-no!? I know I said it but, of course not! I-I just… I don't know!?”

Hands were thrown as you went into a frenzy. Tears wanted to fall out of your eyes as you freaked out over a table. He didn't know the importance of a table because he didn't have his parents.

Those words you said… What the fuck?

“Look, I may not be the most amazing person ever, but wanting me to be shot in the head is where the line is, ok? Why don't you cool off? There's the gas station, and the—”

"Why don't you fucking cool off the gun!? When are you going to stop your little job!?”

You were switching tactics. Want to draw him out so you feel better. Learning that during training wasn't fun, only in his early twenties. “You know what? If you want to play this game, I'll play it too.” He sighed, rubbing his face. How many times has he now? Did it at work with training rookies, with Hunnigan, friends when he rarely went out, and you, too.

“You're wishing I was dead over a table, what's the logic? Look, I know it's important but dead? Dead? I thought you were better than wanting someone dead! Besides, it's only a crack, not a smashed leg." His thumb rubbed over the crack from earlier. A gentle apology to an inanimate object.

Logic against emotions never mixed well. Always end up with one storming out—that one is you. First, it was Leon who waved his white flag a year ago, now it was your turn. Hands raised as you responded to his reason,

“Fine, fine, I'll admit maybe it sometimes. That still doesn't help the fact you cracked the table. The fact we went and got it from my parent's place?” Your hands moved on their own, motioning between the two of you to change your point. You two, a duo, couple, buddies, lovers, WE.

“Who slams their hand on a table in the first place? How is your hand even that strong to do that? Are you doing drugs?”

Drugs? Drugs? Accusatory. Did your eyes fail you? He knew you barely left the house nowadays. He recently found a study on his phone that said eyeballs needed sunlight to grow, and you lacked it. Lacked the past sunshine he knew, bright and sweet. Why'd all relationships end like this? Turning red from anger, exploding like dwarf stars as a relationship's lifetime. Exploding…

You excused yourself, going into the kitchen to prepare dinner anyway. Waving your hands as you excused. Fussy little thing you were. Leon watched you, face full of concern over your emotions and what was said earlier. He knew you didn't mean it, but if you said it, meant you thought it. If you thought it, it meant you doubted. If you doubted then he… He didn't know.

Something felt off during dinner, it could've been Leon going suddenly quiet or the thoughts in your head. The scrapes of metal against porcelain filling thick silence. Thick like mustard gas that choked Leon of his voice and made his tears fall.

“I'll take care of cleaning up, you go get ready for bed. You'll probably shower anyway." You muttered, taking your leave from the table. Collecting plates as you went, lingering on Leon as he paused. Frozen like those Greek statues—perfect even in mental agony.

Still, he didn't want to speak, words not wanting to come out. He didn't need his voice to convey his pain from earlier, the regret he had. Your answer was received through his subconscious responses and body language.

Stealing his plate away from him to bring it back to its home. You started on the obvious: cleaning up after eating. Using the same sponge you had for months alongside dish soap. Didn't understand the ads about how certain dish soaps were unique—it’s just soap.

Soap that cleaned, soap that was washed away. Just like your thoughts circling down that very drain. The fight from hours ago was still reasonably in your mind. Fuzzy as you dried your, hands off. Moving to retreat to your safe space of sorts.

Bedrooms did wonders in many ways. Offered comfort, love, passion, and the chance of reconciliation. You chose right with the sheets, cottony fabric. Was it basic? Perhaps. But it felt right for an ‘American’ home.

Tearing casual wear off for something more flowy. Nobody wanted to be hot when they slept—except the maniac Leon was. Your clothes drop to the floor, leaving you bare to the choices in their closet. Rummaging through it as the man of the day finally made it to the bedroom. Slipping on something comfortable for the night.

Now it was his turn to change his clothes, well, more like stripping from them.

Courteousness could've helped to mend what seemed like the bridge between the two.

“Do you need help?" A question you asked, reaching out towards the male to tug at his shirt. The silent hand between each other's minds. The sorry neither of you wanted to say but had to learn.

Leon thought for a moment, chuckling as he looked up at you, “Sure, if you wouldn't mind?” His smile was soft yet confused, wondering if this was your way of apologizing. Did you think it was an apology? He could've guessed to accept it.

With a drop of a head, you couldn't help but let a smile show through. Huffing at his confused answer. Letting your fingers already help with the stubborn fabric. Pulling it over his head to reveal a canvas full of dark purples and reds. Pretty together and alone, but this canvas was… Unique. Showing the pain one has endured will bring pride. With the main fellow of the show being the fresh gunshot wound on his side.

“Are you staring at my muscles or the bruises?" Leon asked, quirking an eyebrow. Moving to sit on his side of the bed. Working on his pants to reveal Calvin Klein boxers—dark like his soul. (That's what he always said, you ball of depressing sunshine.)

“The bruises that cover the muscles?" You queryed, moving to sit beside him. Hands clutching the edges of the bed as you glanced over at him. Observing his actions as he went on with his night.

“How long are they keeping you from work?" It was a good question to ask. He never said, Leon never wanted to speak about work in his home. It felt forbidden to him like he wasn't keeping you safe from a part of him.

“A week," he simply responded, finally shrugging his pants off. Moved his elbows on his knees as he met your gaze. “Wish it was less sometimes."

“Why less? Wouldn't you want more? It's a break, Leon. Do you not like coming home?"

If he had to mentally delve into his memories, he would've fallen off that building long ago. Floors high with a bioweapon charging for him. He couldn't leave Chris with Rebecca, couldn't leave you alone with guilt and regret. Pretty tears like yours made him feel regret.

Breaks in a sense were bad. He knew the fact he wouldn't escape the government or their work. The work pulled him away from his tear-stained pillow and favorite pair of sweats. Gave him holes in the body and sweet blots of color on his skin. Fuck him and his brain, wanting to save everyone.

“Complicated, real complicated.”

Well, complicated isn't exactly the most honest answer. It just was used as a general term with him. A cover-up.

"If it's about earlier… I was stupid, ok? Who wouldn't be? It's just a table, I know. Just that table means a lot to my family, despite how ridiculous that sounds.” Gesticulating as you talked, Leon couldn't help but notice the clear unease to admit you were wrong—oddly finding it adorable. Resting his chin in his palm as you spoke your truth.

“There's a lot I want to say to you, Leon. Mostly just… Why all this? This job, it's killing you, literally. Your back is worse than a grandma's, you're becoming a dopehead at this point, too. I get antidepressants, but then all these pain medications and others amongst them. I'm not trying to be the person who says drugs don't help problems, but too many hurts you. I'm happy that you're seemingly happy with them, I am.”

Words were bubbling up as you poured emotions out. A waterfall that never ceased and honestly could've made you gag. Those clowns that pull fabrics from their mouths, how? Each fabric you pulled made you want to cry from the emotions. The guilt, pain, resentment, love, all in each pull.

Each fabric you pulled from your mouth to Leon felt like a prodding. Slowly turning into a stab that leaked oil. Catching aflame with certain words and making him recall painful memories. He wasn't a dopehead, he didn't want to be. No one wanted to stare at the six bottles of pills he tried to take daily.

"I want you to take care of yourself, to just take a fucking break.”

Breaks… How many vacation days did he have? Time paid off? Er, he'd have to check. Tapping his finger on his cheek as he tried to recall.

“Could try, but it'll cost you a little somethin'."

Leon leaned close, kissing your temple before resting his head on yours. Chuckling to himself as his hands reacted on their own. Interlacing with yours as he smiled to himself.

“Debt paid, guess I will take a break." This statement made you breathe a mental sigh of relief, even after countless talks of his well-being. “I do actually hear you, though.”

His voice took a serious turn, as thoughtful-sounding as he could be. Reflection on what he could improve on, which was being vocal.

“Soon, I promise. I think I may be getting towards the end of work. Losing the Kennedy spark and all I have is a title.” Leon recalled Helena, or Patrick. The title of being the savior of Ashley Graham. The other being one of the first and best of the D.S.O. "Got a tummy to show for protecting a shitty country as well.” He laughed at his own self-deprecation—the walking circus he was. “Had that talk with Chris during last year, actually. When you were at the bar with him, after you left?”

He glanced over at you with fond eyes, “I talked with him during that. Helped me a lot, you did too." The man paused, stiffly rubbing his neck. "Chris also… Said hi."

Classic Chris, felt like a family friend now. Alongside Leon's unique bunch of friends that he called colleagues, but you knew better. Every aging man needed their little circle of buddies. Made you giggle at Leon's annoyed expression.

“Chris and his hellos… Loves popping his head in when you're home. Do you two even still talk?”

"Rarely,” Leon replied. "He likes to go out for drinks sometimes, quite nice. Sometimes he's one the only guy who gets me.” He gave a forced smile. Earning a gentle punch in the arm. One he brushed off with a push.

“At least you have fun with him, he's a clown once you get past the sternness."

This felt odd. Welcoming. Just a simple conversation with your lover. Backs falling against the bed and limbs tangling themselves as you spoke about life. Two little squids comforted in the presence of their mate. Losing yourselves in a everyday conversation. Pretending that earlier had never happened.

As the two became comfortable, so did your words. Reaching out to stroke his cheek. Over the faint line on it from years ago he said. Doubt he'd ever tell you it was from a old mentor. Thumb slowly moving down to his lips, a kiss being put on the pad.

“I'm still sorry for earlier, ok?" You whispered. Guilt had set in earlier at your emotional outburst. Telling him to die but you meant it in a caring way. Putting a hurt animal to rest with a bullet. If it was him, you'd give him that mercy. Let him finally rest as blood oozed from his corpse.

“You’re getting too old for this job. It's too physically straining on you. Drugs won't save you everytime and the hospital isn't either. How many names and faces do you know from there, huh?”

"Probably around fifteen, maybe twenty. Same doctor but different nurses.”

"See?” Your argument was valid in your mind. If he could remember faces, he'd visited it too much. It hurt you as much as it hurt him to dislocate a shoulder or get a bullet in the back.

"I love you Leon Kennedy, I really do.” A whisper you meant, feeling solemn. Leaning over to capture his lips against yours. Fondness and desire in one simple action. Feeling his hand curling up on the back of your scalp. Leon's eyes fluttering shut as he allowed it.

Your lips left his, breathless as you stared down at him. Watching him smile and the slight crinkle on the corner of his eyes.

“Love you more.”

"More, huh?” You jested, pressing your noses together with a giggle. Gently kissing him again as your hips straddled him. Keeping him pinned at the waist down. Hands moving to the hem of his shirt to pull it off.

“Can I…?”

“Can you…” Leon trailed off, looking at you expectantly. Before letting himself take off his shirt. Revealing little wisps of chest hair and a gunshot wound on his shoulder that's faded from time. Now just a light patch of skin with a ring in the center. It's younger cousin on his side, bright red and certainly angry.

With such gentle touches, Leon smiled—such care and caution. Made him aroused at the love. Made the back of his mind also angry he was getting aroused at something so simple. Trying to make him say something or pry you off with the excuse of pain, but no.

Your eyes wandered the pretty little canvas of bruises and scars his chest was. Even with the new gunshot wound. At least it was beginning to heal. You'd be gagging if you saw it before he left the hospital. Bleeding and the inside of human muscle and flesh.

“I don't know what to say right now," you mumbled, giggling at his stare at the awkward silence pervading the room.

The awkward silence felt right, comforting as you stare at each other. Payback for whenever Leon watched you.

“A little friend does." He whispered, watching your face burn at what he meant from friend. His hands grasped your hips, pulling your pelvis in to rub against his bulge. Situating it perfectly to where he could grind against your pussy. Seeing him so entranced watching his bulge rub against your underwear. Breath caught in his throat as he loved it.

“Gentle, Leon,” you remind, shifting your leg to not brush against his wound. A little uncomfortable with the way your muscles felt but if it made him not hiss in pain, worth it. “You don't like thinking about these things, huh?"

“You don't get to think about many things in my line of work. I only think about getting ready to be back in your arms—where I belong."

Sweetheart he was with those words, made you all giddy and embarrassed. Waving your hand like those shit Lifetime movies towards the Jock with a pea-sized brain. All this grinding and loving talk made you mush. Should’ve been a housewife at this point if you fell for such suave.

“You jest too much,” you scoff, rolling your shoulders back as you prepared for a smooth ride. Grinding sexes against each other while seducing the other with half-lidded yearning eyes. Running your hands up his chest to his throat. Wrapping your hands around the muscle to give a gentle squeeze, earning a soft moan.

“Babygirl, you know what a little squeeze does to a guy like me.” Leon purred, his words becoming husky. Rubbing his hands up and down your thighs and hips. Resting his head back on his pillow. “Pull those panties aside, gotta see my babygirl’s little pussy.”

Giggles erupted from your lips as you shuffled back a little. Instead of embarrassment, arousal was coursing through you. Simple acts could set someone aflame so fast. Dirty talk was one of them if paired with the right voice and man.

Instead of pulling it aside, you pulled them off. Albeit a bit awkwardly due to your pose, but still could be done. Dangling it in front of his face for the alluring factor before throwing them at the wall.

With your underwear out of the way, Leon got a good show of your cunt. Looking at the slick that made him groan involuntarily. Imagining the scene that would play out alongside you. Being lost in his world made his body react for him, making him grind into the warmth you brought. Rocking you back and forth against him.

“There she is! Good girl, baby, just like that.” He rasped, glancing up at you. Noticing you were entranced as well, the way he handled himself.

Leon chuckled, reaching out with his free hand to grab your chin. Snapping you out of the trance as you meet his gaze. So mesmerized by a simple movement. “Eyes on me, Miele. You're doing so good for me.”

His hand left your chin to return back to it's resting place; your hip. Guiding you to grind against his bulge.

“You're unfair if I have to be bare and you get to keep your boxers on." You huffed, impatiently yanking his boxers down. Watching it hit his abdomen with a small slap against his skin. Leaking precum onto the skin, made you let a appreciative hum. “Better, I don't wanna be lonely." You chuckled, mimicking an earlier Kennedy wink.

Why were you two chuckling or laughing so much? You felt like the two of you were having your virginities taken. The awkward sex, shuffling of sheets, and being embarrassed. To be honest, it had been a while considering Leon left home so often. Leaving you without any genuine love-making.

“How about you lie on me? It'll be easier, promise.” Leon motioned with his hands towards his chest. Free and open like the two of you. Sweet smile on his face that revealed those dimples you loved.

Taking the offer, you moved to lay on him. Ear pressed to his chest as was his cock against your opening. Your arms wrapped around his chest as you sunk down. Letting out a soft moan at the insertion.

He rubbed your back, comforting you as you grew accustomed to him again. Murmuring soft words of praise,

“Good girl, just like that.”

His fingers went up and down your back. Languidly thrusting his cock up into you. “Missed this, missed you," he moans, bucking his hips up into you on accident. Squeezing him like a vice as his cock head pressed up into that sweet spot. “Missed that face you make when taking my fat cock."

“Missed you too," your hands go to stroke his chest. Propping your head up on his chest with your chin. Face in a faux pout as you blink slowly. Letting out a small gasp every few thrusts. “We haven't done this in a while, Leon."

“Yeah, we really haven't." Leon sighed, letting his head rest back against his pillow. “Look, I'm still sorry for not being here for you."

He looked back at you, eyes somber as he added more, “It's hard. I know you want to know but I can't tell you. I'm afraid of what'll happen if I tell you. The government is terrifying powerful. I don't want you to die because of me."

It was obvious the government was terrifying, seeing how it reacted to certain things. Police brutality, shitty presidents, probably running some bioweapon deal underneath it. Power hungry just like everyone else. Those who denied being power-hungry were always the ones who were most. They just knew when to not say they were—they were smart.

“I could see that, Leon. I know what you do, ok? Bioweapons? Fight them? You and the government aren't exactly ‘low-key’. I'm sure a lot of the public knows.” You answered, feeling odd while talking about the government with Leon during sex. Such a turn-on.

Of course you'd know, even if he didn't want to go into details—mostly because it invalidates his contract and have himself and you be shot; he knew you weren't dumb. Worst part it was during something so vulnerable.

"Yeah, that's the bad part." He muttered, letting his hands grab your cheek. Giving it a small pinch as he gave a smile. “You look so pretty when you're taking my dick.”

“Turn off?" In truth, it only did a little. Knowing it would've gotten you a harsh thrust into your core. “I love you, but geez… You are something else with certain words.”

"Ah, losing my charm now, hm?” Leon thought to himself, pursing his lips as his eyes seemingly ran after some cleverly thought up phrase that made girls wet. "Ah, I think I got one.”

He drew closer, tipping his head forward so your noses touched. Knowing the smile on his face as he purred out sultry words, “Been thinking about this all day, especially when you made dinner. Wanted to take you over the dishwasher and fuck that tight little pussy into being mine.” His hands grabbed at your hips, moving you up and down on his cock faster. Fucking you with a purpose. The feeling made your eyes flutter, biting your lip to stop yourself from moaning.

“Leon…” You moaned out, hearing the slap of skin behind you. "Y-you're ‘pposed to be gentle!"

A loud whine came from your throat, followed by a smack to your ass. Your shoulders jumping at the sudden harsh smack. Fingers digging into Leon's chest as he fucked you himself.

“Mmmm, I know, baby," he groaned, “But this pussy’s too perfect for me to not fuck.”

Leon laughed, eyes crinkled. All the while his dick kept curling up your walls to hit you again and again in that sweet, gooey spot. Making you leak down his cock to his balls.

Noticing his effect, he adjusted his hand to where he could rub lazy circles into your clit. Making your thigh quiver at too much stimulation. Hips tried to avoid his stubborn hand as he grew relentless in the stimulation.

You leaned forward to kiss him, before pushing his bangs back. Shutting yourself up so you wouldn't get a noise complaint from your next-door neighbors. They didn't need to hear more of Leon fucking you right. Felt amazing to finally be able to feel him again. His hands on your hips, dick curling up inside of you, lips against yours. Made a girl almost cry at the luck.

“Stop being so tight, gonna choke my dick out of oxygen and blood." Leon chuckled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. He ran his hands up and down your back, moving to your neck. Pressing your foreheads together so he could gaze at you.

“I love you…” Leon murmured, pulling you back in for another kiss you eagerly accepted. Hands curled up into his hair and pulled it. Pulling away from the kiss to pull his head back. Delivering kisses from his jaw to his throat. Nipping at the skin that made him moan. Making him roll his hips up into you quicker. How'd that angel a year ago become such a succubus in his arms?

"Love you too.” You responded, burying your head in his neck as you began to moan. Biting down on the skin that'll leave a bruise.

With such love came passion, each thrust carrying it. Each touch of Leon's fingers on your skin lighting it afire. The nails scratched the vulnerable flesh as he started huffing. Reaching its peak, as does every man that ages.

“I got you, don't worry." His hands tightened around you. Pulling you tight against his chest as he rushed to climax. Balls slapping against your pussy and hearing the vibrations of his voice in his throat. Rumbling with each thrust. Almost seemed pathetic with how he was acting.

“That's it baby, you're doing so good f'me. Taking me so well. Just let go, squeeze my cock. Wanna feel you gush around me.”

Oh, sweet fuck those words sent you over the edge. Drenching his cock with more slick. Whining at the overstimulation with his quick thrusts. Crying as he pulls you from his neck to give you a sloppy kiss. Muffling his last groan he released himself inside of you. Hips slowly came to a halt as he panted.

“That’s my girl" Leon whispered, giving one last sweet kiss before resting his head back against his pillow. Letting his arms fall from your body to rest beside him.

Taking it as a sign to get off of him, you scooted off. Almost pulling him out of you before he stopped you with his hand being lazily raised.

“Wanna stay in my pussy a little bit longer. Too lazy to pull out.”

You groaned, brows furrowed but relenting as you pulled him into his side into a spooning position. Moving to where your back pressed against his. Arm wrapped around your waist and stubble rubbing against your neck. Leon already rubbing himself into the crook of your neck. Resting his forehead in the crook with an appreciative hum.

“Such a good girl you were." Leon praised, kissing your shoulder. Giving both your shoulder and neck small ‘good job’ kisses. “Kinda hurting, though…” He mumbled, groaning as he pushed his weight into your back.

“I did say while getting my brains fucked out you're supposed to be gentle. La mia brava ragazza.” Your hands squeezed his forearms. Sighing as you came down from your high. Tired from the dick in you and dreading having to wake up with dried cum on your thighs.

“I’ll get out in a few minutes, need to shower anyway.” Leon chuckled warmly, finally catching his breath. His hands come to hold your chest, giving a small squeeze. Not sexual in any way, just something comforting he did.

“Count me in…”

“When I wanted to come shower with you, I didn’t say eat me the hell out, Leon.” You hissed, swatting him with a towel as you stumbled out of the shower. Second orgasm within the hour and you're shaking like a little lamb. Already watching Leon drying his hair off with a shake and towel. Glancing over at you with a cheeky smile. You paused, before shrugging, ok, maybe it was good. Too good with his stubble rubbing up against you. Sucking on your clit like a lollipop.

“You expect a man like me not to take this opportunity?” He asked incredulously, a hand on his chest as he raised an eyebrow towards you. Almost as if offended you didn’t know who he was despite being his lover. “You hurt me, amore mio.”

As expected, he couldn’t help but jest at you. Watching you shake your head and pinch the brow of your nose. Offering a temple kiss in kind of his attempt to make you smile. “I’ll stop for tonight, don’t worry.”

“You should.” To keep yourself from losing another brain cell at your smitten lover, you dried off. Leaving him to his own devices while you dried your hair and body.

Leon smiled, before noticing the pill bottle on the bathroom sink. Taking it as his medication for the week is another opportunity for conversation. “So, this is what they gave me?”

He held the bottle in his hands, giving it a small shake with an estimate of how many pills were in it. Before moving to read the label and daily amount. Reading the daily amount, he hummed, before noticing the sticky note.

“You’re going to bingo without me?” It shattered his heart as he said it out loud, glancing over at you. Watching your eyes widen at the word ‘bingo’. Bingo? What’d he know about bingo? He only knew where everyone went for bingo.

“Bingo? What about bingo?” You asked, confused as you looked up to see the pill bottle in his hand.

“Oh…”

Someone’s getting an angry phone call later.

𝑻𝒂𝒈𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 — @rigorwhoring, @xoxostarlet, @leqonsluv3r

If you wanna be apart of my taglist just send a DM or ask! I don't mind! Tomorrow I'll be dropping two bots! Then you will see me a week or so later! Love you guys! <3

#leon kennedy x reader #resident evil x reader #leon s kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon s kennedy x you #leon kennedy smut #resident evil smut #𝒓𝒆𝒒𝒖𝒆𝒔𝒕𝒔

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helpwts · 2 days

Text

I’m working late, cause I’m a singer

F!reader x Minatozaki Sana

Genre: fluff?? , angst

Warnings: Sana is a workaholic!! It probably has a lot of grammar errors but im too lazy to check LOL (tbh idk what else so tell mee!)

A/N’s note: tbh my first work and prolly wont post in like a month LOL and @kirxyz better stop calling me lesbian ik i wrote this but shhhh

—————————

Sana Never Had Time For You. She was an idol a popular one and you were a Normal Citizen. Your relationship with her was always a Secret since you both knew the Consequences if the world finds out.

"Love. Can we spend the whole day tomorrow?" you patiently asked Sana as she was chatting with her Manager

"you know i can't.. I'll get catch and plus im Busy Y/N." she coldly replied as she focus on her phone. It was holiday tomorrow but she chose to go to interviews even tho she can easily decline

You always felt like your feelings were always declined by Sana but you always tried to emphasise with her as she was one of the biggest idols in the K-pop industry. It was getting hard to make sense with her since she could slightly adjust her schedule to suit her and your relationship together. It has been 3 years together and it wasn’t always like this.

You two were always inseparable and Sana would always do her very best to make time for you and spend it together at home since going put was too risky. She was a very popular idol anyways paparazzi would always watch her every step.

“This is unfair Sana and you know it! Why cant you even try to make time for me like you used to?” you cried out hoping she would try to understand. It has been months since you went out with her despite her tour already being finished.

"i've had this interview planned for weeks. I can't just go and cancel it. Its my job. I know i haven't been spending enough time with you, Y/N but you have to understand i have responsibilities." She looks at you as she was trying to avoid a fight.

She was always like this trying to avoid arguing and putting the matter away like it never happened 2 times in one week already.

“Do you even care about me Sana? It seems like you never even thought about this matter since last winter..” your voice softens in disappointment. You had expected this reply from her anyways, its like its her only sentences in the dictionary when she talked to you.

Sana looked at you in silence."of course i do. I do. If i didn't i would have never agreed to be in a relationship with you. I love you. I just. Can't spend most of my time with you cause im busy. Plus if my manager catches us hanging out or knows were in a relationship. We know the consequences, Y/N."

You were starting to think she was losing feelings for you, her voice didn’t sound sincere at all. You were worried but you couldn’t tell her your worries as it may break your relationship. What if she cared about her job more than you? What if she was cheating on you? Anything could happen, she is a pro idol anyways shes good at hiding secrets from the world, possibly you too.

“I love that you love your job dearly but what about me? My feelings? Im starting to think you don’t even love me like you used to Sana.”

"i know you don't want me to be busy all the time and i know it upsets you but i have responsibility to take care of. Im your Girlfriend, there is too much pressure on me. It’s my job and i have to deal with it." she sounded stressed and frustrated.

"but i will make it up to you, love." she said as she placed a hand on your head affectionately

That was a sentence she repeated 10 times probably just this month and she never made it up to you. You felt like losing hope and when you tried sharing your problems with Momo, your best friend ever since you started dating Sana, she kept encouraging you to tell her all your feelings and problems about this messy relationship. You just couldn’t bring yourself to it because she was your love the one you could never hurt and would stick to her forever and ever.

“When? When do you even have the time..?”

Before she could answer, her phone started ringing which was probably her manager."i need to take this call, love." she kissed you before she answered the call and walked away. You were in absolute disbelief, you can’t believe that she would abruptly leave and end the argument just like that.

You could hear her muffled talking and even though you heard your name you couldn't understand the words.Your silently sniffled and shed a tear wishing that it could be easier and she didn’t have to be so busy all the time

—————————

2 weeks and double the ‘arguments’ later you started trying to ignore Sana and it felt like she didn’t even care nor realise that you were ignoring her. It felt like a part of you heart was missing, the fact that she didn’t care hammered another piece of your heart off. Momo was the only one who knew about your feelings and ignoring of Sana. She knew about how you cried to sleep every night and she wanted to confront Sana about hurting her best friend because of her mistreatment.

Momo didn’t want to hurt you either so she couldn’t say anything about it. You loved how caring Momo was about you but you couldn’t love her the same way you love Sana even if you wanted to. Momo wanted to have a relationship with you if yours and Sana’s don’t work out. However you kept insisting that it would one day work out and everything thing would be fine but Momo doubted it, you were starting to,too.

—————————

Time flew by and it was the next week. You ignored her for almost a month straight. It still hurt to know she wasn’t there for you like she used to. There was a knock at your door and it was Sana. She was wearing casual clothes like sweats, a baggy hoodie and a beanie. She was carrying a bag and it was a.. gift? That seems odd, it has been months since you have gotten a gift from her maybe the last was winter? 6 months ago since you were still happy and clingy with her, now you’re all weepy and she never really gave a shit.

"Hey Y/N. Is it okay if i come in?" she looked at you with sad eyes. You got worried seeing her in a different state than when you last saw her. On camera she was always so cheerful pretending like she was single (maybe she was it was??) flirting with all the other idols and interviewers. You have seen her weeping about concerts ending yet it feels weird and awkward having her stand outside your apartment door waiting to be let in. (it was normally the opposite since she was a rich girly and the doorman always bullied you for being able to pull a girl like the Minatozaki Sana)

You felt awkward since it has almost been a month since you started ignoring her and when you checked your phone it was filled with texts from this morning asking why you haven’t texted her daily like you normally do but you couldnt find the courage to respond so you never checked them. You wanted to let her in no doubt but at the same time you wanted to keep her waiting until she was at your feet begging for forgiveness.

Although you couldn’t bring yourself to do that so you had to just awkwardly let her in your house. It was this tension that kept you from speaking to her. You waited until she said something.

Sana walked in and sat next to you on the sofa in your medium sized living room. She then placed the bag on the table next to you and she turned to you. You could see her face was a little teary.

"im really sorry... i know I've been busy and haven't been able to spend time with you. I know you've been patient and i really appreciate that love. I just want to say im sorry and i love you. So i want to make it up with..." she took the bag and handed it to you

You were shocked, you had never expected her to act this way especially the reason being about you. Sure, you expected her to apologise, maybe sincerely but not this bad. Never would you have thought she would start sobbing for forgiveness, is this even Sana?

“I-i appreciate your effort, honey. It’s been quite some time since we spoke though. This..this doesn’t feel quite right” you look at her face frowning.

"open it open the bag." Sana looked away as she hid her tears.

Since she insisted and pushed the bag to you, you felt weirded out and was confused why she would suddenly come to your house and ask for forgiveness and give you a gift? You didn’t want to be rude so you ended up having to open the gift she gave to you.

You wiped her tears rolling down her tinted rose cheeks, before you opened up her gift.

Inside the bag are tickets for two to Paris. Your face contorted with surprise definitely. You wanted to be happy but you couldn’t find it in you. Sana realised it but tried not to mention it.

"I know you always wanted to visit Paris, so i booked us a trip. It was expensive, Y/N but you always make me smile. So i want to see you smile. Please don't be mad at me for not spending time with you. I'll make it up to you love. We leave the week after next. It was short notice but i had to book it before the price increased."

“Sana, I don’t know what to say hon’.” You looked up at her trying not to make her disappointed. “Does your manager know about this? Would you get in trouble?”

"No. Love, my manager only tells me not to spend time with you cause she knows about the consequences if the world finds out. But im risking it to make it up to you, Y/N. Besides, im taking a vacation. I have a few days off so she shouldn't be too mad."

“We shouldn’t be doing this if it means having a possibility of losing your job Sana.” You get worried for her. “You’re risking it and your job costs a lot to lose.”

"I don't care if i lose my job, Y/N. As long as you’re by my side, i'll be fine." Sana's voice got soft and gentle. It was different to her cold and harsh voice when she was talking to you about work. She then placed a hand on your cheek as she smiled warmly.

You reciprocated her warm smile as you felt it was genuine this time. Sana then leans in for a kiss and kisses you on the lips. She was sweet and loving like she used to be.

"ill never let anyone or anything come between us me you, Y/N. I love you, so much." she said as she was looking at you in the eyes.

“I love you too Sana, more than you could ever think.”

“To the moon and back?”

“to the moon and back.”

#twice x y/n #twice x reader #minatozaki sana #sana #twice imagines #twice #kpop

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alfredosauce50 · 2 days

Text

Parent headcanons: Alfred, Allen, Matt, & Mathias

When it comes to the trials of adulthood, they have their own ways of getting on top. But parenting is what really puts them to the test. Starting a family and being one of the sole carers for another person will shine a light on the best and worst parts of them.

The big news

Alfred

He has the most normal reaction out of the four. Panic, acceptance, then excitement, he’s finally moving onto the final stages of adulthood and achieving his lifelong dream. Being a suburban dad and getting that white picket fence. It’s not just about liking kids, Alfred is rather traditional when it comes to his values; he has always romanticized the American dream. He already has a good job, all he needs is to make it happen.

“Fuuuuuck,” He whispers, eyes wide as he rakes his hands through his hair. He stands there for a few minutes, staring into space as you watch him tensely for his reaction. “We’re ready to be parents, right?”

Allen

He will freak out. Planned or unplanned, he’s not mentally prepared to be a father. He doesn’t think he’s good enough, but knows deep down he has to be. That’s what really scares him. If he needs to improve himself, it’s now or never. So after a week of panicking and catastrophizing, he’s ready to give himself a second chance — even if it’s for someone else. But his selflessness is key to his perseverance, and eventual success.

“I fucked up,” He squeezes you like a lifeline. It was the only conclusion he could come to after hours of talking about it, the only thing he could ever truly understand. “I fucked up. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

Mathias

He’ll be over the moon. He’s gonna be even more excited than you, but that’s kinda given when he doesn’t have to carry the baby and deliver it. Point is, Mathias is very family-oriented, so don’t expect anything less. He’s the most self-affirmed a person can be too, so he’s always ready to move onto the next stage in life. His nurturing character and openness to change will help you immensely in periods of stress and uncertainty.

“I’m so happy that I could cry,” He whispers with his head on your tummy. He’s half-awake after burning out from his own excitement, but his spirit is still in the right place. “We’re finally gonna have a family.”

Matt

Letting you into his life was already a miracle, and now he’s gonna be a dad? This is a human being that he’ll have to be responsible for, not something he can simply tap out of and run away from. Matt is driven by his interests, solitude, and above all else, his freedom. A baby would take away all of those things, and he’s so troubled by it that he disappears for a few weeks. He comes home to a slap, but it’s well-deserved.

“Are you gonna keep hitting me, or are you gonna let me go to my shed?” He sighs, closing his eyes as you keep wailing on him. And he just takes it, absorbing every strike that was your burning love for him.

“Why, so you can keep—” You shove him harshly so that he actually stumbles back. “—hiding from me?”

“No, I’m gonna build a crib and make some toys.”

Parenting style

Alfred

He’s everything you’d expect from a new parent. Freaking out over the little things, screaming when they do something new, burning out after weeks of sleep deprivation, etc. He isn’t perfect, and you’re gonna have to work with him like any other partner, but before you know it, the house is filled with photo frames. He’s your best friend, and sometimes before your partner, so he has a hard time giving and taking. But it’s also why you two will stick together through thick and thin.

Alfred eventually evolves into the archetype of fathers. He takes the backseat and tells his kids, ‘I don’t know, go ask your mother,’ or even gets in trouble for doing stupid things like leaving the toilet seat up. When you just finished yelling at the kids, he comes to them later and goes, ‘someone’s in a bad mood today,’ when he’s just glad it wasn’t him. But when it’s something really serious, he flips like a switch and takes the lead. When that happens, there’s no talking him down.

“Alright gang, ready to get the show on the road?” Alfred rubs his hands together excitedly before he starts the car. “When we get there, I want everyone to be on their best behavior. I’m already on thin ice.”

He has high expectations for his kids. Ever since they popped out, he’s been giving them the best of the best, like nice clothes, family trips, sports leagues, and dance. He also wants them to go to a prestigious university in the future and to do all the things he might have missed out on. Cue the ‘that’s your dream, not mine, dad!’ Alfred can be hard on his children when it comes to success, so you need to remind him they’ve got minds of their own and are not carbon copies of him.

He says he prefers sons until he gets a daughter. Alfred is an absolute sweetheart to his girls, and is way more lenient with them than his boys. He doesn’t mean to play favorites, but it’s just how he’s wired. However, it also means being quite strict and protective when they get to that age. No drinking and no sleepovers with boys present. Men are all animals according to him. But dad, aren’t you a man? Exactly! He’s the pioneer of ‘anything you do to my daughter, I do to you.’

Allen

He tried his absolute best to prepare, but it starts off a disaster. What can go wrong will go wrong. The baby gets sick, you’re away on urgent family business, so he needs to do it all without you. Allen stays in hospital with the baby overnight, and slowly, but surely, they get better. He ends up neglecting himself to put his child’s needs first, and by the time you get back, he’s burning up with a fever. But the baby is perfectly content and sleeping soundly in the crib because of him.

He wants the best for his family, even if it means sacrificing everything he has. He understands his limits, but there’s nothing he won’t do to make sure his kid gets every opportunity he never had. Sports, college, you name it. If everybody in class has branded sneakers, he’ll buy a pair just so they don’t feel left out. He’s always proud of his baby, and if anybody tried to bully them, they’ll have to answer to him. Allen sees the best of him in his child, but usually fails to see it in himself.

“You can have my egg. I’m not hungry, baby.” Allen says, sliding his plate to his little girl. He knows that you won’t be back with the groceries for an hour or so, and no kids are going hungry on his watch.

Allen doesn’t think there’s a particular way of parenting because no one child is the same. So long as they do their homework, get out under the sun, and have a good attitude, the rest is to be decided. If his child needs extra support, he’ll give it to them, and if they need a reality check, he’ll give that to them too. He reminds them how hard life can be without stability, so they should take their future seriously, but at the same time, he’s always gonna be there to give them a home.

Nobody would mess with his kids after one look at him. He’s an ex-marine without the ‘ex.’ His daughter will have trouble finding a boyfriend to begin with because of him, and when she finally does, they’re gonna have to gain his respect to be trusted with looking after his little girl. If his son ever gets into a fight, he’ll ask if he won then whoop his ass later. And in the principle’s office, he’s giving the other kid the worst stink-eye ever. He’s the dad that could beat up the other dads.

Mathias

He’s a total natural; all is well when the baby is in his care. He may be all over the place, but when he really cares about something, he’s in a constant state of hyper focus. The baby will always be clean, well-fed, and happy, so don’t worry about a thing. There’s also no such thing as 50/50 with Mathias. He knows that there will be times when one person has to take the lead. It’s not in his nature to keep track of who’s giving and taking the most. He’s too mature for that.

It’s like experiencing a second childhood for him. Reading picture books, fairytales, playing with legos, or going to places he went to as a kid, he treats parenthood as a chance to relive his best memories and love every second of it. He will never miss a parent event, performance, and appointment. His dedication makes him very perceptive of his child, so he always knows what to do or say to cheer them up. As they grow up, they maintain a very close relationship to him.

“We wanna go to Legoland!”

“You mean, you wanna go to Legoland,” You laugh at him, “I heard you talking to Bjorn about it last night.”

“That’s so he can make an informed decision, of course,” Mathias grins, not showing a hint of shame as he shuffles over with his phone on the home page of the Legoland site. “So I take that it’s decided?”

He’s a great parent, but he’s by no means strict. All he wants is for them to have a fighting chance in the world, like doing a job that they enjoy. He’s great at communicating with his kids and has a lot of compassion, which takes them a long way. He’s never had to discipline them besides setting boundaries and occasionally grounding them. You rule the home with a firmer hand, and maybe that’s why your kids respect you more but treat him more like a friend than a parent sometimes.

Mathias doesn’t bat an eye when his kids first start dating. He’s always been quite liberal, so he just tells them to be careful about the birds and the bees, then to talk to him if things get testy. The one thing he’ll do is to ensure they have high standards. Love is life’s reward, not something to cry yourself to sleep about. Eventually, he’ll invite their date over for dinner, and as it turns out, he’d be a great father in law. He’s very welcoming and treats any future Densens like one of his own.

Matt

He’s a trial-by-error, improvise as you go along kinda dad. He hasn’t put much thought into the trials of childcare, but he always works things out in his own way. If the bub keeps crying because they don’t want to be bottle-fed by him, he will cover his face with a picture of you. Easy-peasy. If they’re crawling around the bed, he will use them as a mousepad as he scrolls on his laptop. That way, he gets some leisure time while making sure they don’t actually go anywhere.

Matt is the opposite to a helicopter parent. When his kid trips and face plants into the ground, he doesn’t react. The trick is to not acknowledge it, because only then will they cry. He isn’t afraid to let them explore the world and gain their own agency. It’s good for them, he says. Some part of you thinks he just wants them to grow up quicker so he doesn’t have to take care of them anymore, but there’s always those special little moments.

“How about I teach you how to drive the truck?” Matt asks, walking back home with the family.

“He’s eleven.” You remark.

“Is that a problem?”

He’s all about the family business. If his children don’t want to go fishing and logging with him, fine, but if they show even the slightest bit of interest, he’s bought. Matt will be more than eager to show them the ropes. He takes them on camping trips to show them the beauty of the great outdoors, and the humility it takes to be apart of it. The art of it all is there’s no problem can’t be solved, and even a rugged man like him can be domesticated by the right person.

If his daughter got a boyfriend, he’d be waiting at home with a shotgun. Matt will then play it off like he just got back from a hunting trip. He’s the type to use silent intimidation, and it works like a charm. If not, he’ll tell jerks to get off his lawn even though he doesn’t have one, and when they ask what lawn, he’ll just say “all of it.” What he means is to get out of his sight and the woods, which is the lawn he’s talking about. (Ha!) On the flip side, he’s nice to girls his son brings home.

Losing the spark

Alfred

He has a tendency to let himself go when he gets comfortable. This usually happens when his first kid reaches their teenage years and he can afford to sit back now that they can do their own thing. He’s established a stable family unit, but he takes that for granted and gets a little lazy. As a result, he packs on a few pounds and tries less in the relationship. He’s not as attractive as he used to be, and you’re having more petty arguments.

“Why do I feel like you hate me?” He watches you mop the kitchen after you told him to do it. Only he delayed it to sit around on his phone and eat crisps. Even then, he still has the nerve to be upset about it.

“I don’t hate you, I’m just annoyed at you.”

“But you’re annoyed with me everyday.”

Allen

Losing the spark? Not on his watch! He never stops trying, ever, and keeps chasing you like when he first started dating you. His stability doesn’t come from money, it comes from you. You’re his rock, and nothing else matters so long as you’re here. He’s the epitome of ‘you know how daddy is about mommy,’ and he’s proud of it. He also takes great care of his body, and with his good genes, he practically ages backwards.

“You better wear that button-down shirt tonight, Al. A tank top isn’t gonna cut it,” You tell him.

“You callin’ me a deadbeat?” He questions.

“No, but you dress like one.”

“I thought you liked my clothes, babe.”

“I do, but the teachers won’t.”

“True that.” He fixes his collar in front of a mirror. He peers at his reflection, marveling at how well he cleaned up. A dress shirt and belt? He’s practically unrecognizable — until he grins, that is. “Still got it.”

Mathias

He’s always gonna be young at heart, so his spirit never dies. His love for you is as constant as a river, and he’s not afraid of putting on a show for the kids to the point they get a little disgusted. (Ew!) He doesn’t think he’d ever be too old for romance, and his good faith shows up in how gracefully he ages. He might occasionally grow out a thick beard, and when he shaves it off, he looks devastating close to when he was younger.

“Are we ever gonna be alone again?” He mumbles, pouting. His thirtieth birthday is coming up, but he hasn’t changed a bit, save for the more pronounced smile lines around his mouth. “I need some love too.”

“We will, Mat. I just don’t feel comfortable leaving the baby alone right now,” You shake your head.

“We could call Amy and have a date night.”

“I don’t know, Mat.”

“I’ll shave off my beard.”

“Huh?”

“You wouldn’t say no to me without a beard.”

Matt

The longer he’s with you, the harder he loves. His feelings don’t change when things get hard, or as time passes. They just get stronger. In that same breath, he also ages like wine. In the end, he ends up being the bigger romantic. He used to be a lone wolf, and he thought he was okay with it, but now that he has you, he can’t imagine his life without you. To think you actually stuck around and gave him a chance, he’ll never forget that.

“Wanna go back inside and do it?” He mutters.

“You’re disgusting, Matt.” You walk inside without sparing him a single glance. No matter how old he gets, he’ll always have a mouth on him. No matter how old you get, you’ll always forgive him for it.

“Is that a no?”

“Make me dinner and let me think about it.”

“Deal.”

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whimsicalwritingsandmore · 2 days

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The Aurora Academy of the Arcane | ateez x reader

Pairing: sorcerer!ateez x reader

Genre: fluff, romance, slice of life, magic

Word Count: 1369 words

a/n: it is I! with another potential future story idea because I started playing this Otome game and I got inspired! :D Enjoyyyy! <3

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It’s a serene and tranquil evening. Sitting under a cherry blossom that you’ve become quite familiar with over the past few weeks, you stare at the cascade of yellow and orange hues showering the sky as the sun begins to melt into the horizon’s embrace. There’s a knot forming in your stomach, that’s twisting tighter with each passing moment as you think about the recent events.

One minute you were in your apartment staring tiredly at yourself in the bathroom mirror, then suddenly, you found yourself in the middle of a forest. Glancing at your surroundings, you were extremely perplexed at what just occurred but before you could take a step ahead, a deep, menacing and taunting growl elicits from somewhere in the trees. Frozen with fear, you turn around cautiously before you’re met with a pair of fiery amber eyes staring directly into yours. The wolf growls again and is ready to attack but you break off into a run, adrenaline pumping through your body as a bolt of panic hits you. Unfortunately, the forest seems to be getting denser as you sprint through and your vision becomes muddled. You have nowhere to hide. Coming to a clearing, your eyes feverishly dart from left to right and you close your eyes as the solution, hoping that this is all a dream and you’re about to wake up.

Instead, as the growls get closer, a white light appears in front of you and another person falls right on top of you.

As he rolls off and tries to find his bearings, you achingly sit up and get a good look at him. His hair is neatly tied in a ponytail accompanied with a key hair accessory and a clip on the side. Some of his hair falls in front of his face and alongside with a dangling earring on his right ear, it adds a nice touch.

But before he can say anything, the wolf slowly makes its way out of the trees, ready to pounce.

“Do something!” you exclaim fearfully to the stranger.

You weren’t sure what you expected him to do, but you were stunned when he pulled out a wand, muttered some type of spell and then, the next thing you knew, the wolf disappeared.

That’s how you met Wooyoung.

You have been at the Aurora Academy since the incident, under the care of eight sorcerers - some who have developed a fond affection for you while others were indifferent to your presence.

Hongjoong, who is the leader or captain of the group, is patient with you but you get the feeling he would prefer it if you went back to where you came from. He’s a stickler for the rules so your sudden presence thwarts this. They each take turns in watching over you so when the others have classes, you stay with Hongjoong in the group’s tower of their dorm. And it’s weird because he keeps muttering to himself when he’s deeply focused on something.

“I already have seven kids, what’s one more?”

So you don’t hesitate sometimes to cry out “Take me with you!” when the others are about to leave, but you’re only met with Seonghwa’s gentle smile and a pat on the head. And when you turn back around, you’re met with an unamused Hongjoong.

Seonghwa, however, treats you well. He’s a sweetheart who regularly invites you to join him for strolls in the late afternoon in the flower field just outside the academy’s perimeter. The two of you would watch the sunset and absentmindedly make flower crowns, rings, bracelets and necklaces for each other (and Wooyoung). He’s there to offer you words of comfort and listen to you when it all begins to feel like it’s too much to handle.

Yunho recruits you to join him on visits to the town’s plaza when it’s time to get supplies for classes. And although Hongjoong has a rule that no one should snack on sugary treats when it’s exam time, Yunho defies these orders and brings you to his favourite bakery with the most delicious and tasty warm baked goods. The two of you would spend the lunch hour there, sitting in the window seats that overlook bustling town, while munching on some goodies before it’s time to head back.

Yeosang doesn’t like you. At least, you think he doesn’t. He doesn’t really give you the time of day when you’re left with him and you just sit bored out of your mind while he remains unconcerned and focused on whatever has his interest. It’s similar to Hongjoong, but at least he keeps you entertained (and concerned) with his daily ramblings, and actually responds to you when you ask him something even if the response is a sarcastic one. Yeosang will either just ignore you or side-eye you.

Kind of similar to Yeosang is San. He’s wary of you because he doesn’t know anything about you, just that you’re from earth. He doesn’t trust you so when it’s his turn to watch over you, the two of you would always be in the library so that you won’t talk to him because his head is buried deep in a book and he’s extremely focused. Only he isn’t. Actually, he’s asleep. So you leave him and head to the cafeteria after becoming familiar with the academy’s layout, and then you go to the greenhouse to play with the familiars. San didn’t care when he realised you were gone the first time but then he got scolded by Hongjoong and Seonghwa. He glares at you for getting him in trouble, but Wooyoung’s familiar who has taken a liking to you glares back and San scurries off because familiars can be scary when they’re protective. He knows you won’t stay in the library even if he tells you to, so the two of you shift to the greenhouse instead. San sleeps, while you play with the familiars.

Meanwhile, Mingi enjoys your company when he’s in the lab testing out a new spell or potion he learnt earlier in class. Mingi likes to discuss what he learnt and what his thoughts are on the subject. But because he’s shy, he doesn’t really raise his hand during class discussions. So when you’re there, he rambles about everything that came to his mind during the lesson and shows you little tricks of the trade to make your stay much easier. You enjoy listening to Mingi because it is fascinating, and also Mingi looks even more adorable when he’s talking about something he loves.

Mr Jung Wooyoung is your knight in shining armour as he likes to call himself. Maybe it’s his nature, but ever since he met you, he enjoys your company immensely. He loves to cook for you and takes you to his secret hideout to spend time with you without anyone else crashing in. Even though he shouldn’t have, Wooyoung developed a crush on you. And maybe he should step back and work through his feelings because ultimately, you will have to go back. But too bad, because his feelings are there and as a result, he’s not too keen on the idea of you spending time with everyone else and not him. So he doesn’t have any plans on staying away from you anytime soon. He’ll just have to keep his feelings a secret, especially from Hongjoong.

Jongho seems indifferent towards you and only talks to you if necessary. He’ll be busy scribbling away in his notebook under the tree you both are seated under while you’re reading a book. But Jongho empathises with you on your situation. So when he finds you asleep and there’s a hint of worry and frustration, he casts a spell to help ease your mind for the while. He’ll go back to scribbling after but little did you know, he’s actually sketching a picture of you.

A lot has happened since you found yourself in this foreign world. You were supposed to receive an update on how you’re going to get back home, but instead, in your hand currently is a letter of acceptance.

Welcome to the Aurora Academy of the Arcane, it’s a pleasure to have you join us.

#ateez x reader #ateez fanfic #ateez series #ateez fluff #poly ateez x reader #ot8 ateez x reader #poly!ateez

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ciaonicole85 · 3 days

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Part 5: What Then?

It's finally Sydney's one year work anniversary! A little slice of fluff to tide us over. Quick summary of the last 4 parts- Its been about 5-6 months since The Bear opened, the slowburn is slowburning,, and Carmy wants to make Syd an shareholder. Please excuse grammar/spelling. My contacts are fizzling out.

Sydney woke up with cheerful expectation before her alarm rang. Today was her work anniversary or “workversary”. A year ago, she strode into The Beef praying that this was her chance to make something great with one of the best chefs in the industry. Then in a couple short months The Beef had closed, the process of The Bear began, and since it’s opening her hopes of creating lifelong memories for people and of obtaining a star seemed possible. The dream was becoming more concrete every day.

She got ready eagerly and grabbed the garment bag with her freshly dry-cleaned custom chef’s coat. More than just the significance of the day, Syd felt like something special was going to happen. Carmy had brought up this anniversary almost every day for the past week. Obviously, he was hiding something, and she was ravenous to know what it was. She tried every truth extraction tactic she could think of, from feigning nonchalance to making him a gourmet peanut butter and jelly sandwich, to shameless pouting. The last almost worked, but Richie walked by interrupting her performance. Carm snapped out of her spell and from that moment refused to hint about today. Richie teased her ever since and even last night he left a voice note impersonating her honeyed murmur “Carmy, pleasssseee tell me…I’d wouldn’t hide anything from you” followed by retching noises.

Oh, well. She liked good surprises.

The morning was uneventful, but during staff lunch Carmy announced that it was Sydney’s work anniversary and Marcus brought out a sublime vertical carrot cake for everyone. He even made an additional small cake for her to take home and share with her father. It was so divine that if the cake was all she got, she would have been thankful, and she told him as much.

“Marcus, you are incredible! If you ever need a kidney, just make me this,” she moaned.

“I’ll remember that chef” he answered scratching his neck and bashfully ducking back into the kitchen. His crush on her was mostly snuffed out the night of Friends and Family, but occasionally those old feelings resurfaced.

As Sydney reached the peak of a blissful sugar high Carm asked her to join him in Natalie’s office. First a cake and now the mystery reveal!

They asked her to take the seat of honor, aka the comfortable chair, behind the desk. Nat looked pleased and relaxed, while Carmy was harder to read. His expression was a mixture of agitation and gladness as he drummed his fingers on his knee. For a moment they sat in silence.

“What is it?” Sydney blurted.

“Carm, tell her!” Natalie ordered with an exasperated smile.

Taking a deep breath Carmen gushed forth,

“Sydney, I don’t even know where I’d be, where The Bear would be, without you. You put in a crap ton of hours without pay during the reno, you kill it in the kitchen every day, we created the menu together, the staff respects you, you kept everything running when I was sick and…and…we want to give you a share in the restaurant.”

Sydney slumped back in the chair, speechless and gazed at them her pupils dilated like saucers.

Natalie went on to explain further, handing her a contract.

“If you accept, your share would be equivalent to Carm and I. Of ‘course none of us will see additional income until we pay back Uncle Cicero, but we didn’t want to wait to make it clear that you are essential to The Bear, to our family.”

Carmy held his breath. He had been elated about this for days, but now he doubted. Yes, Sydney wanted a star, and she loved the work, but would she want to be tied to The Bear, and by extension to him?

Sydney sat up, clutching the contract, and shook her head in amazement.

“You’re serious? A share? An equal share?”

“Yeah, of ‘course” Carmy replied, his ocean tinted eyes imploring her to believe it.

“Okay” she conceded softly, her vision blurred with tears, and she stood up to embrace her now legal partners.

Natalie swooped in first with one of her famous hugs and whispered, “Thank you.”

Then Carm overwhelmed with relief pulled her close, his lips slightly brushing her cheek.

Just then someone tapped on the door and Natalie opened it. It was Uncle Cicero eating a slice of Marcus’s cake.

“Hey, Uncle Cicero, to what do we owe this pleasure?” Natalie enquired.

“Well, my lawyer said he sent the contract over this morning, so I just wanted to officially welcome our new partner to the business and to the family! Sydney you’re a class act and this one couldn’t have picked better,” Uncle Cicero answered with a wink at Carmy. Then he beckoned for Syd to give him a hug, which she did her face hot with a mixture of happiness and self-consciousness. She felt like she was an honorary Berzatto.

“Well, I got to head out. We’ll talk again soon Sydney,” Cicero said warmly and beckoned Carm to follow him.

As they walked through the restaurant and out to his car, Cicero praised his nephew for making The Bear a success so far, raved about the cake and most importantly for making their monthly installments. Then he said something very strange.

“Carmen, you’re doing this right with that girl. Wise to get the business side squared away first. Oh, and I got a ring guy, he could get you a good deal.”

Carmy was jolted from the hazy cloud of contentment that enveloped him since Sydney accepted the offer.

“Why would I need a ring guy?”

“Hey, I know young people do things differently these days. Some wait for years, but when you’re ready to get engaged I got a connect.” Cicero explained.

“Well, uh, Sydney and I aren’t dating,” Carmy responded with a shade of longing in his voice.

“You broke up!?”

“We’ve never dated.”

“Then who were you seeing right before the restaurant opened?”

“Claire.”

“Who’s Claire?”

“She was from our old neighborhood; It didn’t work out. I was Alex Gonzalez during a lot of the reno. Why did you think I was dating Sydney?”

Cicero cocked his head, scrutinizing Carm with the intensity of an owl. That look would make Mike Tyson falter.

“Why do you think I thought you two were dating?”

Carmy blushed with a crooked smile, rubbing his chin.

Cicero sighed, got into his car, and rolled down the window.

“Don’t overthink it nephew. I could’ve been married to the love of my life if I wasn’t such a know-it-all manichino (dummy) in my youth.”

Carmy blinked, confused.

“But you are married.”

“Yeah, and she’s great. Not the love of my life though.”

With those words Cicero waved and took off.

Carmy stood for a minute to clear his mind before heading back inside. He knew Sydney was probably recovered from shock and waiting for him with dozens of questions about their new arrangement.

Also, would another hug be out of order?

#the bear #sydcarmy #sydney x carmy #carmy x sydney #carmy the bear #sydney adamu #fan fiction #syd adamu #carmen berzatto #carmy berzatto #friends to lovers #fan fic #fluff

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eksvaized · 13 hours

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Part Twenty [ Previous 〡 Next ] taglist: @kingsprettyangel, @simonsslvt, @herwristsarehercanvas, @the-faceless-bride, @ghostieslove, @bbypionaa if you want to be added - let me know!

A/N: the updates on all my stories are slow because of uni the exam season is killing me >.< but once i'm done with it, i plan on posting more frequently!

You stare at the white ceiling. The light blanket draped over your body feels like a suffocating weight that’s pressing down on you. Yet, you lack the strength or mental energy to peel it away. As you lie there, it’s hard to believe that you’re back in this house, back in this room - your room.

When you first woke up, you had thought you would spend the rest of the day crying. But now, the reality of your return, the fact that you didn’t escape, that you’re back where you started, seems oddly natural. It’s as if you had always been caught in this relentless cycle and the brief moments of freedom were just cruel illusions. Of course, you didn’t escape Simon’s grasp. How could you? And for what reason did you even dare to dream of running, when your fate had already been sealed?

A chilling realisation settles heavily on you: deep within, you always knew that you weren’t going to make it too far away. The thought of escape was nothing more than a tantalising mirage that kept you going.

You sink deeper into the mattress, and your thoughts drift to Johnny, his memory filling the empty spaces of your room. His belongings, once scattered haphazardly here, are now all gone. The lack of his familiar presence, the void where he once existed, suggests that he’s probably been banished as well. Simon knows he can trust his friend. Yet he likely doesn’t want Johnny around you anymore. His presence is too dangerous for you. It sparks rebellious thoughts, ignites dangerous ideas that should have just remained as silly fantasies in your silly little head.

Simon occasionally comes into the room. Each time he appears, he brings you a meal: breakfast, lunch, and dinner. He always places the neatly arranged tray on the nightstand. However, your appetite fails you every time and you never reach for the food. The meals, untouched, grow cold and then Simon, without saying anything, takes it all away.

You had thought that Simon would grow furious with your refusal to eat. Despite his seemingly calm demeanor, you braced yourself for the moment he would finally snap and unleash his pent-up frustration the moment you dared to meet his gaze. You imagined him yelling, maybe even resorting to physical violence, then dragging you to the basement to be shackled and left alone on the lumpy mattress. However, contrary to your expectations, his interactions with you are limited to occasional curt commands. He orders you to eat, to go shower, to change clothes. Sometimes you comply, sometimes not.

Day after day passes, each blending seamlessly into the next. From the confines of your bed, curled up into a tight ball and clutching your pillow, you watch the sunrises paint the sky with hues of pink and orange. A haze of sleep consumes you, pulling you into its depths and then pushing you back to reality, though every time you wake, you still feel an overwhelming sense of fatigue that never seems to lift.

Time becomes a blur, its passage marked only by the changing light outside your window. You can’t tell if only a few days, a long grueling week, or perhaps a full month has passed since Johnny found you in the forest. But the truth is, you don’t really care. What’s the point? What’s the point of caring, of trying, of devising potential escape plans when you feel the hopelessness seeping into your every pore?

There are moments when you catch yourself questioning your own sanity. What if you really do have a delusional disorder? What if you fabricated all those terrifying scenarios about Simon kidnapping you and forcing you to stay with him? Everything seemed to point in that direction. After all, when you mustered the courage to make an escape attempt, his reaction, when you were brought back home, was far from the explosive rage that you had predicted.

Instead of a storm, there was a surprising calmness, an almost passive acceptance that rocked your preconceived notions. His demeanor was mild, oddly gentle, and this discrepancy led you to question the authenticity of your own perceptions. It was as if a mirror was held up to the distortions of your own mind, casting doubts about the reality you thought you knew.

Simon himself was constantly proving to be nothing more than a caring and soothing presence. His actions were always considerate, his words tender and comforting. This gentle behavior conflicted with the image of the captor you had created in your mind, leading to further self-doubt. You found yourself wrestling with your own thoughts, trying to convince yourself that perhaps, just perhaps, you were indeed fabricating all of these disturbing scenarios.

* * *

Simon has reached his breaking point. The relentless sulking, the constant gloom, the oppressive atmosphere that hangs in your bedroom like a shroud - it’s unbearable. Each day is a mirror image of the one before: he’d make his way into your room, anticipation gnawing at him, only to find you in the exact same position in which he had left you, sprawled out on the bed in an almost lifeless manner, neglecting food and water, your gaze fixated on the wall, staring blankly as though you were lost in a world far beyond anyone’s reach.

So, on one evening, Simon decides to take matters into his own hands. He isn’t going to stand by and watch any longer. He is going to do something, anything, to bring back the light that once twinkled in your eyes.

Simon enters your room, cradling a bottle of what appears to be an extremely expensive bourbon, its golden liquid glinting under the soft evening light. His brows are furrowed in determination, a silent testament to his resolve.

He carefully places the bottle on the nightstand, accompanied by two gleaming glasses. “We are going to drink,” he declares, but you don’t say anything. You raise your chin up and just stare at him. Your gaze empty.

He studies you, his eyes shimmering with a complex cocktail of concern and firm resolution, before he reaches out for your hand. With a gentle yet firm tug, he pulls you out of the bed, making you stand. As you do, your gaze falls upon your own reflection in the mirror that hangs on the wall. You stumble, taken aback by your appearance.

You are still clad in the same clothes you had on when you left the house. The fabric is uncomfortably sticking to your skin, chaffing at the edges. This realization sparks a sudden urge within you to shed it all off. However, you remain frozen because you aren’t alone in the room.

Simon approaches you once more, this time presenting you with a fresh set of underwear, a fluffy white towel, and a pair of shorts along with a shirt.

“Go shower,” he instructs in a tone that brooks no argument. Although a part of you, the part that’s grown comfortable with the cocoon of sadness, wants to shake your head in refusal and retreat back to the bed, you decide that a quick shower wouldn’t do any harm. It might even serve as a much-needed break from the tumult within.

As you make your tentative way out of the room, you catch a fleeting glimpse of Simon’s silhouette against the window, managing to open it despite the lack of a handle. Once the window is cracked, inviting a breath of fresh, untainted air in, he proceeds to methodically peel off all the sheets from your bed, preparing it anew.

You spend a while standing under the scalding hot water. The warmth washes over you, blanketing you in a comforting heat that seems to momentarily suspend the world outside. The luxurious, expensive, fruity smelling gels that Simon has purchased for you are ignored, lined up against the wall of the shower. You simply don’t have the energy to slather your skin with them. However, you make a conscious effort to untangle the knots in your hair, running your fingers through the strands repetitively.

When you come back into the bedroom, Simon is sitting on the bed. Your bed is adorned with crisp, clean sheets, and on the nightstand, next to the bottle and two glasses, there’s a bowl with some steaming hot soup. The aroma wafts through the room.

“You can’t drink on an empty stomach,” he says in a tone that suggests he’s more stating a fact than offering an opinion. If you had the energy, you would no doubt argue with him, insisting that you have no intention of drinking or eating. But instead, you only manage to sit down next to him, the exhaustion preventing any form of protest.

When you make no move to reach for the bowl, Simon takes the initiative. He cradles the dish in his hands and begins to feed you. You allow him to. When a stray droplet of soup trickles down the corner of your mouth, he gently wipes your chin with his thumb, an act that is both comforting and strangely intimate.

There’s a part of you that wants to ask why he’s being so patient, so considerate with you. In fact, myriad questions are swirling in your foggy head, each one demanding an answer. But the haze clouding your mind is so thick, so dense, that formulating even a single coherent sentence feels like scaling a mountain.

Simon insists you finish the entire bowl of soup, meticulously ensuring that not a drop is left before he finally puts it away. As he proceeds to unseal the bottle that has been sitting on the nightstand, you find your eyes inadvertently drawn to his hands, noticing the rough, hardened callouses that adorn his fingers.

“Drink,” another command slips past his lips and he passes you a glass filled to the brim.

You gaze tentatively at the glass. The liquid inside shimmers under the soft glow of the room’s light. You hesitate. You don’t want to drink. However, you know that Simon, with his stubborn persistence, won’t back off or leave you alone until you do. So, with a heavy sigh, you bring the glass to your lips and take the first, small sip, instantly feeling the harsh sting of alcohol as it trickles down your throat, searing every inch it touches.

You hope that after the glass is finished, the alcohol will make you drowsy, lulling you into a deep slumber. After all, it seems that’s all you seem to do these days. Sleep.

However, when your glass finally drains, reaching its anticipated emptiness, instead of the expected heaviness or sense of dread, your eyes unexpectedly widen, and you find yourself becoming more alert. After enduring days of feeling emotionally numb, hollow inside, akin to an empty shell thoughtlessly discarded on a deserted, lonely beach, you feel an unfamiliar warmth spreading gradually throughout your body. This sensation is new, yet not unwelcome.

And then, when Simon, seemingly satisfied with your compliance and perhaps even relieved, nonchalantly turns on the TV, randomly selecting some film to fill the room with some background noise, you find yourself giggling as you watch the screen.

You don’t know why you are laughing or why you keep extending your arm towards Simon, wiggling your glass every time it empties, but you do.

Simon, with a careful vigilance, keeps an eye on you from the periphery of his vision. Matching your pace, he drinks as much as you, if not slightly more, but he is not nearly as drunk as you. Just a bit tipsy. He knows that getting drunk with you is far from the wisest decision he could make. But he quiets his mind, trying to convince himself that you won’t do anything reckless. After all, the bottle was only uncorked after he was fully convinced that you had no intentions of trying to run away again.

After Johnny brought you back, Simon was relieved. Ecstatic, actually. The thought of you, alone in the dark, lost and frightened, was a horrifying prospect that had Simon on the brink of tearing his hair out in sheer anxiety. It felt like a thousand icy needles were piercing his heart. In fact, the notion of you in danger was so excruciating, it made him want to raze the entire forest to the ground until he found you.

He had initially steeled himself, preparing to unleash a storm of admonishment, to let you taste the bitter regret of your impulsive decision to venture outside the safety of the house. After persuading Johnny to leave, under the guise that your condition had worsened, and you needed to recover in a safe environment devoid of any agitation, he stationed himself in your room, sitting by your bedside, watching over you, waiting for your eyes to flutter open so he could mete out the punishment he believed you deserved.

But when you woke up, something was amiss. Simon immediately noticed it. At first, he thought you were simply sad, but there were no tears to confirm his suspicion. No other emotions were evident on your face, either. The vacant stare you wore, the long, empty days you spent lying in bed, refusing to eat, and merely gazing aimlessly out of the window, filled him with an unsettling, gnawing fear. He longed for some kind of reaction from you, any indication that the person he knew was still there, beneath the facade of emptiness. He reasoned that perhaps you needed time to process everything, so he gave you space. Yet, even that didn’t seem to help.

During the times when his emotions would threaten to consume him, when his mind would be bursting at its seams with a relentless onslaught of thoughts, or when he felt the crushing, suffocating emptiness that seemed to envelop him, as though the bullet that had merely grazed him had instead ended his life, he would seek solace in the comforting burn of the most expensive bourbon he could find in the store. He would drink until his mind was blissfully quiet, until he lost consciousness, in the hopes that the morning would bring relief, and the horrors of the previous day would feel like a distant, unpleasant dream from which he had finally awoken.

“Hello? Earth to Simon,” you call out, playfully nudging his shoulder with the tip of your index finger. A lazy smile plays on the corners of your lips. “Are you falling asleep on me—yes, yes, you are!” you exclaim, your laughter bubbling up from deep within your chest. The sound of your giggles fills the room. You sink deeper into the bed and finish the last of your liquor. “You are such a lightweight,” you tease, your voice slightly slurred from the alcohol. Unexpectedly, a hiccup slips past your lips, causing your giggles to escalate into full-blown laughter.

Simon raises his eyebrows. His eyes twinkle with mild amusement and a hint of disbelief. His gaze is fixed on you. It takes him a moment to register your words, but then he shakes his head and smiles. Genuinely, smiles. A feeble grin spreads across his face, accompanied by the gentle crinkling of his eyes at the corners.

#simon riley x you #writing #simon ghost riley #ghost x y/n #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #call of duty #ghost x you #ghost cod #cod #ghost call of duty #cod ghost #fem!reader

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iridescentpull · 1 day

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Day three of Hideduo/FitPac Kiss Week – Small Peck & Hunter/Vampire AU

[ ao3 link here ] [ fic below cut! ]

Pac hums, watching from where he can see Fit slowly arrive at the mansion.

This song and dance has been going on for a while now. Pac is not sure how long, but he does know that this has been the only thing making him look forward to for the centuries he’d been alive. The vampire hunter was so intriguing, so mysterious, and Pac was eager to uncover everything about him.

The vampire watched as the hunter reached the main entrance of the mansion, crossbow in hand, and took a deep breath before opening the door. He was greeted by the usual silence, with the occasional sound of water dripping, but no vampire.

It’s the same old routine. Fit walks into the large estate, looks around, eventually finds Pac in one of the dozens of rooms, fights him, and Pac manages to win or get away. The hunter’s attempts never changed, even after all the years of fighting, and Pac would always end up winning and frustrating the hunter.

It was like an unspoken game between the two. No one ever said anything, but it was obvious they were both enjoying it. They both enjoyed each other’s company, even if it was through combat.

Fit was quick to enter the mansion, looking around, listening carefully for any signs of life. The sound of the door closing echoed throughout the house, making the hunter a little anxious, but he pushed those feelings aside.

“You know, you’ve gotten pretty good at sneaking around.” Pac’s voice came from the left side of the foyer room, causing Fit to tense. The male looked over to the vampire who sat on a red velvet couch in the ballroom, his long legs crossed. Today he was wearing a silk, white shirt with ruffles along the bottom and blue designs, his dark hair a bit disheveled, but still looking elegant. His blue skin shone, which made his red eyes stand out more than usual.

Fit snorted. “And you’ve gotten a little less subtle.” Fit said, putting a hand on his hip.

The vampire giggled, shaking a hand. “You flatter me, Fitchi.”

Rolling his eyes with a hint of desperation, Fit didn’t say anything in response. He looked around, trying to find a way to approach the situation. This was odd, usually Pac would put in the effort to hide, not just sit and wait for him.

“So, how’s the weather outside?” Pac asked, trying to make small talk. He raised his legs to tuck them underneath himself, sitting in a more comfortable position.

The hunter raised an eyebrow. “Why are you asking?” He asked, narrowing his eyes and aiming his crossbow at the vampire’s head.

Pac shrugged. “I’m just making conversation.” He said, propping his head on top of his hand as he gazed at Fit. “Also, it’s kinda hard to see the weather when you’re a vampire– y’know, burning in the sun and stuff.”

“Hm.” Fit hummed, putting the crossbow down. “It’s a little cloudy today, might rain today but not too sure yet.”

A small smile formed on the vampire’s lips, and he nodded. "Seems fun." He says, his gaze softening. Pac felt a little strange talking about such mundane things, but he wasn’t against it. The vampire enjoyed any moment he had to talk to the hunter. “Fitch, can I ask something?” Pac asks, tilting his head to the side.

Fit nodded, shifting a little in his spot. “Sure, what’s on your mind?” He asks.

“Why do you keep coming back?” He asks, tilting his head as Fit tenses, not expecting the question. “It’s been months and you haven’t killed me, but you’re still coming back. Why? Do you have a vendetta or something?” He asks, crossing his arms.

The hunter sighs, his shoulders slumping as he stares at the floor. “...No, I don’t.” He admits.

“Then why? You’re a vampire hunter that has been tasked to kill me, and yet you don’t. You could easily leave and never come back, but you continue to show up. Why?” He asks, his red eyes focused on Fit.

Fit bites his lip, his hands gripping his crossbow tightly. He takes a deep breath and sighs, looking up at Pac. “...It’s nice to have a challenge once in a while.” He says, giving a weak smile.

Pac chuckles. “I’m not exactly a challenge.” He says, shaking his head. “You’re a great hunter, but I’m no match for you.”

“Don’t say that, Pac. You’re the only person who’s given me a run for my money– every time I think I have you caught, you slip away.” Fit says, giving an annoyed yet fond look. “And then I’m chasing you again. But it’s okay, I love the thrill.”

Pac’s eyebrows raise, his eyes wide. “Love? Is that so?” He asks, smirking.

Fit freezes, his face flushing. “I– uh…”

“Don’t worry, I feel the same.” Pac says, chuckling. “It’s been centuries since someone’s been able to catch me off guard like you do.” He stands, approaching the hunter. “So, what will you do now? Try and fight me or leave?”

Fit thinks for a second, watching the vampire approach. “I’m tired of running.” He says, putting his crossbow down. “I’d rather spend my time doing something else.”

The vampire stands up, walking towards the hunter. He extends a hand. “Will you dance with me?” He asks, smiling.

The hunter blinks, staring at the vampire's hand, before he smiles. “It would be my pleasure.” He says, grabbing his hand. Pac pulls him closer, the two now face to face, their bodies pressed against each other. Fit wraps his arms around the vampire’s waist, the other male wrapping his arms around the hunter’s neck.

They dance, slow and gentle, swaying from side to side as they gaze into each other’s eyes. The candles of the ballroom shine brightly, illuminating the two as they continue to dance. They continue until the sun goes down, and the night air is cold and silent. The pair slowly lean into each other, until their faces are only a few centimeters apart.

“Hey Pac?” Asks the hunter, staring into the deep irises of the vampire.

The vampire hums. “Yes?”

“I’m sorry.”

Pac feels a quick peck on his lips before a blade pierces his chest. The vampire’s eyes widen, and he gasps, looking down at the stake in the center of his chest. He looks back up, seeing Fit’s apologetic eyes as he feels blood start to seep out of the wound.

“I’m so sorry.” Fit says, a single tear rolling down his cheek as he watched the blood pour out and the light leave Pac’s eyes. His cold body is getting colder, and he can feel the strength leave the other’s body. “I can’t let you live. I can’t .” Fit says, tears falling from his eyes.

The vampire smiles shakily, reaching a hand up and brushing the other male’s cheek, leaving a smear of his own blood on the hunter’s skin. His red eyes are dull and lifeless. “It’s okay.” He whispers. “Thank you for having one last dance with me.”

The hunter’s eyes widen. “What?” He asks, shocked.

“This is the first time... I’ve felt genuine happiness in years.” Pac whispers, a small smile forming on his lips. “It’s been centuries since I’ve danced with someone. And, it was with you. That’s all that matters to me.”

Regret washes over the hunter’s face, his expression full of guilt. He pulls back, watching the way Pac shakily collapses on the floor. He drops his weapon, kneeling down to the other male and pulling him close. “No, no no, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean for this to happen, I swear I didn’t." He says, holding Pac in his arms. “I was blackmailed and– oh God, what have I done? ”

“It’s okay.” Pac whispers, smiling weakly. “I forgive you.” He says, his voice starting to trail off. He leans into the other male’s touch, his body getting colder. “Fitch?”

“Yeah?” The hunter asks, his voice shaky as he does his best to stop the bleeding with the few supplies he brought with him. But Pac has lost too much blood, which is dangerous. Even more considering he’s a vampire. “What?”

“I’m scared.” He whispers. “Will you stay with me until I pass?” He asks, looking up at the other male with wide eyes.

Fit nods. “Of course, I won’t leave your side.” He promises.

“Thank you.” Pac says, smiling. He feels the hunter pull him closer, the warmth of his body bringing a slight comfort to him. He hasn’t felt warmth in so long, and the sensation is nice. His eyes start to droop, his vision fading, but he keeps his gaze on the hunter.

The hunter watches as the other male slowly closes his eyes, his breath slowing down. An idea comes to mind. “Feed off me.” He says, catching the vampire off guard. “Drink my blood and turn me. Maybe we can run away and do this dance again.”

Pac blinks, looking at the other male. “What?” He asks, unsure if he heard the hunter right.

“Please, Pac, turn me.” Fit pleads. “We can run away together, you won’t have to die, and we can continue dancing forever. Please.” He begs, holding the vampire closer.

It’s quiet, Pac staring at the hunter with a mix of emotions. He leans his head on the other’s shoulder, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. He can feel his fangs extend, his eyes going red. He turns his head, and without a word, his fangs pierce the hunter’s skin.

Fit’s eyes widen, but he doesn’t pull away, letting the vampire feed off of him. He can feel his body getting colder, his life fading away, but he doesn’t care. All he wants is to dance with Pac again, and he’ll do whatever it takes.

Once the vampire is done feeding, he pulls away, licking the blood off his lips. “Fit?” He asks, noticing the hunter is still and pale. “Fitch, are you okay?” He asks, cupping the other male’s cheeks and forcing him to look at the vampire.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” Fit says, smiling. “Did it work?” He asks.

Pac stares at the hunter, his eyes widening when he sees the bite mark on his neck, a small trickle of blood coming out. He nods, his hands moving to his own neck. “I think so, but are you sure you want this?” He asks, looking concerned.

“I’m positive.” The ex-hunter says. “I want to be with you, together.”

And together they were.

New hunters were advised to be wary of the couple that would haunt the mansion. It is said that every day exactly at sundown, the lights will come on, and the faint sound of music can be heard, with the echoes of laughter and chatter. Some hunters have dared to venture into the mansion, only to be greeted by a tall, dark figure that would chase them out and go back into the safety of the outside world. Others have heard the rumors of a beautiful vampire dancing with said figure in the darkness, and have stayed clear. It is not known how these rumors started, and no one knows how to prove or disprove the legend. The mystery of the mansion is still unsolved to this day, and will continue to be until the couple stops their dance.

But as they said, they have all the time in the world.

#hideduokisswk #fitpac #fitmc #pactw #aynee writes

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secretobsessionstuff · 2 days

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nawwwhh man you aint gotta feel bad about not doin sicktember. im bein real here, i thought i was and i did like 3, so i aint either. but if you really do want me to request one, i'd probably do psychogenic fever/stress induced illness with madix bein sickie bc itd relate to me personally the most (bc i always get stress sick and i'd love to see madix sick witb it too (bonis point if dakota take care of him GOD i loved the fic where dakote took care of him))

Hey man, thanks for always being there and loving my fics. I hope you like this one even though it's nearly two fucking years late I swear.

This fic is set in the past when Madix and Dakota are in school together.

CW: Graphic description of vomiting! It's seriously so gross I love it lol.

-------------------

A flood of relieved students rushed past Dakota. He swam against the current looking for Madix among the test-takers. Since it was 2pm, they were no longer test-takers, but the sea of knowledge inside their brains would still be there until the PTSD of organic chemistry was washed away by time.

Dakota knew how anxious Madix had been for this final. The dreaded Orgo Chem kept his roommate up for the past three nights. It was a known fact that this second-year course was a killer, and Madix’s prof was a distinguished serial killer. Many students retook Orgo in the summer, trying for that passing grade with perhaps a more lenient prof.

With the hallway now empty—all the students having left—it was easy for Dakota to find Madix. He hadn’t expected his friend to stick around after the final was over, but there he was sitting on the floor by the large windows. Madix looked like a crab, trying to find safety in the shell of his hunched over back. He had his head in his hands and was rubbing his temples as if the trauma of the exam pooled behind his eyes.

“Hey, how did it go?” It was a very pointless question given that Madix was curled into a question mark.

“Fuck if I know,” Madix slurred as he slid his hands down his face. “I keep going over every question, doubting my answers.”

“Well, it’s over now so you don’t need to think about it.” It worried Dakota how glassy and fragile Madix’s eyes looked, like he was about to cry or explode into flames. His cheeks were pale and sunken too.

“I need a 73 to pass the class.”

Dakota squinted. “Mmh sounds like you’re still thinking about it.”

Madix dropped his hands to his side. “I can’t stop. That exam is all I’ve been thinking about for the last week. I haven’t even had time to study for Anatomy tomorrow.”

With a sigh, Dakota sat down on the floor next to his friend. “I brought you something to take your mind off studying.” From behind his back, Dakota revealed a fast-food bag from the student lounge. It was Madix’s favourite place to get comfort food because of the crispy fries, the juicy burger, and the creamy milkshake. Madix didn’t like to indulge that craving too often because it was a greasy cheat meal that often left him feeling bloated, but Dakota thought it would be a nice gesture since Madix had hardly eaten anything leading up to this exam.

He was about to hand his friend the grease-wrapped gift, but hesitated. The heat coming off Madix’s body was alarming. Dakota could feel the waves just sitting next to him. A quick touch to Madix’s forehead with the back of his hand told Dakota that he’d been neglecting his roommate.

“Shit, Mads, you’re burning up. I didn’t know you were sick all this time.”

“I’m not sick.” Like a starving animal, Madix reached for the bag of food, but Dakota held it out of his reach.

“Bullshit. You can deny it all you want, but your head’s on fire, buddy.”

“I know.”

Dakota couldn’t stop his lecture now, as if the two of them hadn’t heard enough lecturing the whole year. “You’re the one in pre-med, you should know—wait what?”

Madix sighed at the theatrics of his friend. “I’ve had a fever for three days. It’s not going away.” He rubbed his own forehead, feeling the familiar yet puzzling temperature. “I don’t have any other symptoms. I think it’s from stress.”

It was honestly the oddest feeling. Madix could feel himself cooking from the inside. His cells buzzed like the many diagrams of excited particles when submitted to heat. But there was nothing else to indicate a virus or infection. His throat was fine; his nose was clear. If anything, he was infected with school. Perhaps his nose was clogged with equations and his throat was sore from reciting textbook chapters.

Dakota looked skeptical. “So, you gave yourself a fever from worrying?”

“Yes, it’s a medical mystery. They should name a disease after me. Anyway, gimme burger.” Madix reached for the food like a child with grubby fingers.

Dakota scooted away from his friend, taking the prize with him. “I don’t know, Mads. You really don’t look well. I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to eat something so heavy.”

“Come on. You know I’ve been surviving on goldfish crackers.” It was only now that he could smell the fries and beef that Madix realized how hungry he was. His stomach was aching for something substantial. “Besides, I need the energy to study for Anatomy. It’s tomorrow by the way.”

“Tomorrow? But you just had orgo.”

“I have a shit exam schedule this year.” Madix pouted. “Please, Kota. It will make me feel better.”

Finally, Dakota relented. He had bought it for Madix after all. But now he was worried that it was the exact opposite of what the overworked boy needed.

He watched Madix stuff his face with his first real meal in 72 hours. The burger disappeared in record time. Fatty juices glistened on Madix’s chin as he dug into the fries. His fingers were coated in grease and fry seasoning by the time he was done. In between each mouthful, he took longs slurps of the Oreo milkshake.

“You wanna slow down there, bud?” Dakota asked incredulously. There wasn’t much more to eat at this point.

Madix dragged his sleeve over his mouth and shook his head. “Have to start studying soon.” He swallowed the last bite of fries and sucked at the last remnants of the milkshake. Madix let out a long burp at the end and sighed.

“I’m not gonna lie, that was impressive.” Dakota couldn’t believe his eyes. “You’re getting more colour in your cheeks.” Maybe the meal really had been a good thing. “But I’m still worried about this voodoo fever though.”

“It won’t go away until the exams do.”

‘Then neither will I.” Dakota stood firm in this decision. He wasn’t going to let Madix get burnt out…literally. His hardest exams were done, so he could keep a closer eye on Madix now. “I’ll study with you in the library.”

“You don��t have to, Kota. I’ll be fine.”

“I want to.”

By the tone of Dakota’s voice, Madix could tell that he wasn’t going to win this one. “Fine, but we’re studying in the red zone.”

“Not the red zone! Anything but that.”

Madix shrugged. “You’re the one who insisted on babysitting.”

• • •

The red zone was the fourth circle of hell—also known as the library during exam season.

It was the quietest level of the building, reserved exclusively for students to study in absolute silence. No talking, no phones, you couldn’t even sneeze without getting dirty looks. You could hear a pencil drop and then watch that pencil be escorted out of the red zone.

As someone with ADHD, Dakota hated the red zone. He much preferred the orange or yellow zone. At least in the orange zone, you could whisper and cough without being shunned. The yellow zone allowed for conversation and anxious tapping. He admitted that the green zone was definitely not ideal for studying. That was the first level of the library were students could openly cry over their exams or practice for their theater final that involved a murder scene.

Dakota pretended to zip his lips and throw away the key. He shoved his hands into his pockets to keep them from moving on their own.

Madix on the other hand had no issue keeping his mouth shut. The nausea forced his lips together.

The fast food was quickly catching up to him, staying true to its name even inside his stomach. It hadn’t taken long before the burger, fries, and milkshake resisted digestion. The meal churned in his belly like a wad of chewing gum.

The red zone was popular during this time of year, so Madix and Dakota hunted for two chairs next to each other. They found a long table with many students already studying there, but luckily there were two empty spots across from each other. Madix was grateful to be sitting across from Dakota so that he could rub his upset stomach discreetly.

Unfortunately, the red zone was not a good place to have a gurgly tummy. The girl next to Madix gave him the stink eye when the organ groaned, tossing chewed up cow inside his gut. He felt grease sticking to his throat and hot burps in his chest. He pushed down every belch lest he be escorted out of the level.

The words of the anatomy textbook swam across the page. Madix felt his fever ignite with a vengeance. Now he was dizzy, disoriented, and disgustingly full. There was heat behind his eyes that turned his vision to soup. Everything he needed to know for the exam was right in front of him in the book, but the letters became alphabet stew on a white background.

He dared not look up at his friend in fear that Dakota would see right through him.

Dakota could not study in such an environment, so naturally he saw every twinge of nausea flash across Madix’s expression. His poor friend was not having a good time. Madix’s cheeks were now flushed bright red, and beads of sweat gathered on his brow.

In the dead quiet of the library, he could hear Madix’s stomach struggle to digest the heavy meal. Dakota kicked himself for giving into Madix’s begging. The nausea was no doubt thwarting his efforts at studying which created a vicious cycle of stress and pain.

Dakota did a quick doodle in his notebook and passed it to Madix. He was quite proud of his drawing and had to keep in a chuckle.

Madix frowned at the drawing. Along the top were the words Green Zone Now? Below Dakota’s messy handwriting was a drawing of a green-faced emoji. Its cheeks were ballooned with vomit. It seemed he wasn’t hiding his ailment so well.

On the same page, Madix wrote back I’m fine. Must study. Madix didn’t think he needed to go to the green zone, despite what his complexion said. He could control his stomach. The food would stay down; it had to.

Dakota gave Madix a disappointed look when he got the note back. Why must he be so stubborn? Dakota had to drop the matter. Aside from physically picking up his friend, he didn’t see any other way of convincing Madix to take a break for the sake of his health. He wasn’t going to be making any compelling arguments in the red zone.

Madix tried to ignore his blistering fever and his unhappy guts.

Systemic Anatomy was hard to study for when he was so keenly aware of his digestive system. He imagined partially digested fries mixing with the gastric juices in his belly. His body went through the steps with much difficulty.

The muscular organ was literally in the process of contracting itself to squeeze all the nutrients out of the fast food. Madix did not like the squeezing. He hugged his aching middle and laid his head on the table in defeat.

It didn’t seem likely that the food would continue on to his intestines. His stomach couldn’t handle the greasy meal after days of hardly anything to eat. On top of all this, his body was too busy fighting a made-up virus called stress. The stress was very real, but his immune system was taking it too literally. It was no wonder why he couldn’t keep the meal down.

Madix couldn’t stop the burp from coming up. It burst from his mouth, splashing the back of his throat with acid. The girl next to him shushed him. Her expression was as sour as his stomach. He didn’t have the will to apologize for the noise. Regardless, he wouldn’t have had the chance to say sorry anyway because another burp filled his mouth with sticky saliva.

Dakota looked up quickly to see Madix hunched over his chair and gagging into his hand. Another sickly belch bubbled up, draining the colour from Madix’s face.

Before Dakota could do anything, he watched Madix lurch forward with a loud heave. Thick vomit spewed from his mouth and fell onto the table in front of him. The sick quickly spilled onto Madix’s lap.

“Oh, shit Maddy,” Dakota cooed as he came to his friend’s side. He didn’t bother with the anti-social etiquette of the red zone, not that it mattered though because everyone in their vicinity bolted from the room. No one wanted to risk catching whatever Madix had during their exams.

Madix coughed and sputtered. Scandalous! He could only moan miserably before the muscles in his belly contracted again, sending up another wave of mushy fries and curdled milkshake. Dark flecks of Oreo and beef dotted the sick.

“Oh God…” Madix choked out. “I can’t stop.”

Dakota rubbed his friend’s back while trying not to look at the growing pool of vomit that was…everywhere. “It’s okay, buddy. Just let it out.” The same heat from before lived beneath Madix’s skin. Dakota could feel the fever through his clothes. “No one is here. You’re good. Do what you need to do.”

Madix’s belly gave another deep lurch. The pressure forced the undigested food up his open esophagus. If this wasn’t the best way to study the digestive system, then Madix didn’t know what else to do besides open himself up like a cadaver.

His fever made the room spin around him. If he had any sort of receptacle, he probably would have missed. Luckily, he had no issue catching his notebook, his lap, and his shoes in the process.

“Good job,” Dakota encouraged. He patted Madix’s back firmly. “Get it all out. Get that stress out too while you’re at it.”

Madix had to admit that there was something cathartic about this purge. He felt lighter with each bout that left his body. He gave over to his subconscious mind and let his body do what it needed to do. He probably should have listened to the hunger and sleep cues before this, but he was listening now to the Get Out cues.

If stressed looked like a melted Oreo milkshake then it was certainly no longer in his body. He tried to imagine the pressure and the expectations and the need for validation leaving his body along with the vomit.

When Madix caught a break, he couldn’t help but give a chuckle. “This is the red zone. I just puked in the red zone.”

Dakota laughed with him. “All over it really.” He looked around at the empty room. “You scared everyone away. They must think you have the plague.”

“I think we’re all infected with it. This pressure—it’s an epidemic, man.”

“Don’t go turning into a philosopher.” Dakota took a step back from his friend. It wasn’t a good view, but he was happy to see Madix’s shoulders relaxed. “Do you need anything? Water? Sleep?”

“Both.” Madix slowly stood up from his chair, cringing at the wetness that made his shirt cling to his body. “But I think I better find someone who works here.” Madix rubbed the back of his neck. “Guess I should have listened to you, huh?”

“Let’s discuss my vast amount of wisdom when everything’s cleaned up, shall we?"

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t0ast-ghost · 1 day

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S3 EP8 (For The World Is Hollow And I Have Touched The Sky) welp that’s the longest title in tos and this is a long post because I was not normal about this episode

Let’s get it started:

- Immediate red alert with Spock in charge

- You think they ever held hands?

- What’s got Chapel so upset? She’s most likely right about whatever it is

- The way he kind of yells and then lowers his voice and just says, “Please, Christine. I promise I’ll give the captain a full report.” He’s not actually mad at her and he knows she’s just looking out for him but he’s scared

- Bones can’t say that he’s the one who’s dying. He can’t admit it out loud. He says that the cmo has it (not even gonna try and spell the diseases name)

- “Without me, Jim? You’d never find your way back.” My heart- oh my heart. He doesn’t want to be cut away from the crew, let alone Jim and Spock.

- Spock is standing in the transporter room like, ‘What is going on?’

- This asteroid looks like the planet where Tasha dies to the goop in TNG

- I was looking at McCoy about to beat someone up and then it was violently revealed to be a stunt double… obviously

- McCoy was fairing pretty well in that fight until he looked at that lady

- Kirk not only fighting to get to an injured McCoy but begging (he’s using his words cause he cares about him sooo much)

- Normal! Normal thoughts and feelings 🙂

- Okay I know not very relevant to anything but I’m appreciating the stairs shot

- “You will kneel.” All three of them just go, ‘okay’

- Absolutely stunning wardrobe, makeup, and hair for the priestess though

- “THEN LEARN WHAT IT MEANS TO BE OUR ENEMY BEFORE YOU LEARN WHAT IT MEANS TO BE OUR FRIEND.” Get fucking zapped, idiots

- mhm mhm

- Good thing Kirk’s not a doctor (especially a therapist) cause this man is NOT confidential

- Kirk looks so sad. Holy shit .

- McCoy’s like sleeping beauty, cause he’s beautiful… and sleeping I guess

- MHM YEAH. So UHM SPOCK JUST- he just grabbed McCoy’s shoulder to help him up. Why does this have me blushing???

- “Well we’d better get to the control room.” Is this just the normal procedure? Find the control room -> blow shit up

- McCoy immediately tastes the random substance

- he’s dead. (Edit: NOT McCoy! The random guy)

- He CHOSE to sit in the sluttiest way possible. No wonder everyone wants him DAMN

- ‘Bones listen, you’ve got to seduce her. For the mission.’

- I- she loves his stunning blue eyes

- “Is there a woman for you?” He takes way too long to answer this. How do you explain that she just met your two boyfriends

- I love her. I don’t care. She’s so amazing. Like “Until I saw you there was nothing in my heart. It sustained my life, but nothing more. Now it sings. I could be happy to have that feeling for a day, a week, a month…a year.”

- Hiding behind a pillar works…

- Spock and Kirk listening to Natira asking the god if she can have McCoy as her mate and both of them look so ready to attack

- GET ZAPPED IDIOTS

- “for me” 🥺🥺🥺

- THE FUCKING HAND KISS

- “You’re returning with us.” “Dr. McCoy I order you to return with us.” Kirk knows this won’t work but he’s desperately clinging onto any last thing that could keep them together

- “Your decision is most illogical, Doctor.” “Is it, Mr Spock? Is it really?” IM SORRY THIS MOMENT?!? are we? are we not going to talk about this? There’s no real fight between them here. It’s Spock telling McCoy this is ‘illogical’ because he doesn’t want him to leave. And McCoy’s reply is calling Spock out, basically acknowledging that he knows what Spock is saying but also challenging him to find another reason for him to actually stay :(((((((((

- Kirk’s going to cry. That long look from McCoy looks like he’s going to cry. He’s going to cry. I’m going to cry.

- After the breakup :( Kirk is in silent hurt and Spock is pouting (he’s gonna listen to Logical by Olivia Rodrigo after this)

- WOW. McCoy wasn’t sure if they’d actually leave him. I think, if I may speculate, that McCoy was expecting rejection (as a doctor, crew member, friend even) because of his illness. Then Natira wants him, and as she states, she’ll have him for however long she can. Now, McCoy thinking that he’ll inevitably get pushed aside by the people he’s closest to is testing them. It’s a win- win situation for him, right? Either Spock and Kirk force him to go back with them, proving they won’t leave him, or he stays with Natira for the rest of his days. Ideal situation… but I don’t think he actually thought they’d leave him.

- congrats on the marriage I guess

- I like how McCoy is still in his starfleet uniform… no I do not, let him change clothes

- “Starfleet command will take care of the situation.” They’re gonna blow it up.

- “An urgent call from dr. McCoy, sir.” This is like after a break up texting, ‘you up?’

- McCoy stops answering the phone so Kirk and Spock immediately beam down to the planet they’re banned from to save him <3

- That was a fast divorce. This is the second time that they’ve helped each other divorce someone.

- THEYRE BEING PUT IN AN OVEN

- If McCoy and Natira went to an event together everyone there would fall in love with both of them immediately

- The chin tilt. He looks down and she tilts his chin back up. I love them both

- “Which indicates that the flow of oxygen to each cell of your body is back up to its abundantly energetic level.” Spock says this and is basically smiling in relief (you have to see it to believe it)

- Kirk is still in support of his boyfriend’s wife

Honestly 10/10 episode. Thank you so much for this one.

Masterpost

Episode written by Rik Vollaerts

#star trek #star trek tos #star trek the original series #spock #s'chn t'gai spock #tos spock #leonard bones mccoy #tos bones #tos mccoy #captain james kirk #jim kirk #tos kirk

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leona-hawthorne · 4 hours

Text

GREEN TIE / mattheo riddle

mattheo riddle x fem reader

summary: you and mattheo attend the yule ball separately after breaking up

warnings: exes to lovers, angst (?), SMUT, face sitting/riding, piv, unprotected sex (they have magic, you don’t. wrap it!), breeding kink if you squint, praise and degradation, profanity, use of y/n, i think thats it but let me know if you notice anything else <3

words: 4.6k

“Find your partners and follow my lead,” McGonnagall’s voice rings through the room. You groan internally. Who the hell are you supposed to dance with?

At the dancing lessons for the Yule Ball throughout the past few weeks, you and your perfect boyfriend, Mattheo, had practiced together. The two of you had gone together last year as well, and the night was quite literally magical. It’s safe to say that last year’s experience really set your expectations as high as possible. The idea of experiencing that same magic again made your heart flutter with excitement. You couldn’t wait.

That was until Mattheo Riddle crushed those dreams.

Yeah, he broke up with you last week. Completely crushed your spirit. Now you have to go to the ball alone.

He’s not even here right now. Merlin knows how the hell he got out of dance practices, but he’s not here and to be honest, you’re grateful because if he was, you’d have to dance with him and that just would have been awkward.

Adrien Pucey takes notice of your lonely presence from across the room and quickly approaches, somehow oblivious to the clear grimace on your face. What choice do you have? Everyone else already has a partner.

So, you give in and try your best to keep up a polite front, taking his hand and stepping to the music, despite the burning sensation on your skin every time he touches you. It’s not a good burn like when Mattheo touched you. It doesn’t make you want to ignite the rest of your body with those flames. It makes you want to drown yourself in the Black Lake just to get away from this guy. Dancing with anyone but Mattheo feels inherently wrong. Mattheo’s hands were always cold. Pucey’s hands are warm and it’s nauseating.

You’d never really spoken to Adrien too much before but from this single dance, you’d learned one thing about him: he never stops talking.

Practically beaming with relief once it’s over, your feet carry you away before you can even realize where you’re walking, ears unconsciously tuning out the sound of Adrien yelling after you.

When you and Mattheo were dating, the whole school knew that you were off limits, Mattheo had made that abundantly clear. Boys were nervous to even think about you in the wrong way, afraid that Mattheo would somehow sneak into their minds and find out. Once the news that you two broke up spread, people were practically throwing themselves at the two of you. You could only hope that Mattheo wasn’t interested in those girls the same way you still weren’t interested in other boys.

“Get me out of here,” you whine as you grab Astoria’s wrist tightly in your hand, dragging her out of the crowded room.

After dinner in the Great Hall, you’re speed walking down the corridors back to your dorm. This was actually a great feat. For days on end, you’d been so wrecked that you could hardly get out of bed, much less leave your dorm for anything other than classes with your red eyes and messy haired state. Astoria and Pansy had been bringing you your meals. So the fact that you finally went to the Great Hall today is an accomplishment.

“Y/n! Wait!” You freeze in your tracks. God, please no. Please tell me that’s not his voice.

“Slow down. I need to talk to you, dove.” Shit, it is him.

Wait, how dare he call you that? He knows how much that nickname makes your heart melt. He can’t just go around calling you that after breaking your heart. It’s not fair.

“Do not call me that. What do you want?” You say, careful to keep your voice cold as you turn around to face him.

“Don’t be like that, dove.” Oh, screw him. “I just… I heard you’re not doing well. Hardly eating, barely sleeping, you never leave your dorm. I didn’t mean to—”

“Well, you did. That’s kind of what happens when you get dumped with no explanation.” You snap and he flinches.

“I did give you an explanation.” He counters and you feel like your head is going to explode. “Did you? My bad, it felt like a dumb excuse to get away from me. Maybe I just heard it wrong,” The sarcasm in your voice is unmistakable.

“We were toxic and you know it. I’m toxic. You deserve better.” He says softly, giving you the same shitty excuse again.

“That’s bullshit and you know it. If you’re bored of me, just say that. Don’t make up some idiotic excuse about how you’re not good enough for me because if it was really that way, you’d love me enough to be better for me.”

He looks like a kicked puppy. His brows are furrowed and his eyes are soft and vulnerable and he has the cutest frown on his face that you just want to kiss away. But you can’t. He sighs, gathering the strength to speak again.

“Take proper care of yourself, please. If not for yourself, then for me.” And with that, he leaves. You’re left alone in the empty hallway, your hand over your heart that seems to be aching harder than it was before.

The ball is tonight. Mattheo has a date, you heard. Hardly 2 weeks after the breakup and he’s already got another girl hanging off his arm.

Your mind refuses to process the information. He dated you for a year. He still seems to be concerned about your well being. So how did he move on so easily? It’s not fair that you’re hurting while he’s enjoying his time with some other girl.

You shake your head, trying to rid yourself of these thoughts. Your beautifully styled hair cascades over your shoulders, emerald green dress flowing around you. You’d considered not going to the ball at all, but eventually decided against it, your girls telling you that you couldn’t miss out on this just because of your ex.

“You look beautiful as ever, Y/n/n.” For someone who can’t go 10 seconds without being sarcastic, Astoria sounds uncharacteristically genuine right now. You give her a soft smile. “Thank you, Tori. You look beautiful too.”

“Come on, we’re gonna be late!” Pansy ushers the three of you out of the room.

By the time you get down to the ballroom, Mattheo’s already there with his date. You’d tried your hardest not to search for him in the crowd, knowing it’d only hurt, but of course, you gave into temptation. The girl was completely unfamiliar. You’d never seen her before. Could he really not have found anyone less irrelevant?

Still, your face falls and Pansy follows your line of sight, falling on Mattheo who has his arm around some girl in a red dress. You’d worn a red dress to the ball last year and you can’t help but wonder if he remembers.

Pansy steps in front of you, blocking your view. “You look better than her.” This makes you giggle. You know it’s wrong to say things like that, but in this moment of insecurity, the reassurance feels nice.

“Don’t let it get to your head. He’s not worth it.” She takes your hand and leads you to your table, but not before you take one last glance in Mattheo’s direction. This time, you notice something that makes your heart stop.

He’s wearing a green tie.

His date is in a red dress. He’s wearing a green tie. And you… you are in a green dress.

Oh my God?

Before you’d broken up, you’d planned out your outfits for the ball and obviously, his tie had to match your dress. But you didn’t expect him to still wear it after he dumped you.

Maybe you’re reading too far into it. Maybe he just couldn’t find a red tie? Maybe he couldn't find any other tie at all? No, it can’t be. He had to have done it on purpose.

You tear your eyes away from him and walk away. Mattheo, meanwhile, is dying on the inside. The second he stepped into the ballroom, his mind was flooded with memories.

Memories of last year at the Yule Ball with Y/n, his Y/n. Her long red dress with the slit on the side and the off the shoulder sleeves and the sparkles at the top. He remembered every detail of that dress. She was always gorgeous, but he was sure she'd never looked more beautiful than she did that night, and it wasn’t only because she was all done up. It was because she had this excitement that night, this dazzling smile on her face. He was hypnotized.

No other girl compared to her. Every other dress looked like a damn dishrag in his mind compared to you. All night, the only question in his mind was, “How did I get this lucky?”

He remembered dancing with you that night. It was early in your relationship, you hadn’t even had your first kiss together yet. It was still easy for him to make you blush. You giggled at every stupid word, every corny pick up line he whispered in your ear.

“That dress looks uncomfortable. You should let me take it off of you.” He’d whispered with a wink as you waltzed and you’d blessed him with the angelic sound of your laugh, shushing him. He kept stepping on the ends of your expensive dress, but it was even because you kept stepping on his shoes with your heels. You blushed in embarrassment every time and he’d have to pry your hands away from your shy face.

You’d bumped into people while dancing but you were too wrapped up in each other to be embarrassed or to even notice. Mattheo flipped off anyone who stared or gave you weird looks for laughing too loud.

“Don’t mess up my makeup. I spent an hour on it.” You’d told him, to which he’d smiled mischievously and ended up kissing your cheek. It was only at that end of the night, after he’d walked you back to your dorm whilst carrying your heels, that he’d kissed you for the first time with his hands on the soft, supple skin of your face. The way you’d stared at him with your cute doe eyes, full of wonder and joy, after he’d pulled away is forever engraved in his brain. Your eyes were wide and your cheeks were red and in Mattheo’s opinion, you’d never looked more adorable. He remembered looking down at you and seeing the glow of your makeup in the dimly lit dorm halls. God, you had him mesmerized.

But that was over now. He has a different girl on his arm now. He should at least try to enjoy his night, right?

He looks at the girl only to find her already staring at him and as guilty as he feels for it, all he can think is that she can’t hold a candle to Y/n. Not to her beauty, her wit, her humor, her soft voice, her captivating eyes, her radiant smile. Nothing.

His eyes mindlessly wander around the room and land on Y/n for the first time and suddenly he’s floored. He’s frozen, butterflies flying from his stomach and up his throat.

He hadn’t seen you in your dress before. He thought that you in your red dress at last year’s ball was the most beautiful you’d ever looked. Oh, how wrong he was.

You look unreal tonight. He can’t help but wonder if you even came from this planet. Is it possible for a human being to be so perfect?

The only thing missing is that radiant smile you showed off last year, the one he was so used to seeing grace your pretty face every time he walked into a room with you in it.

Now, you just look… bored. Empty, even. And he wishes he could put back the smile that he stole from you. You look incomplete without it.

His own stupid self-sabotaging tendencies are the reason why he’s not dancing with you right now and he hates himself for it. He knows he’s nowhere near good enough for you, but is it so wrong to be selfish? He is just a man, after all.

The night goes by miserably for the both of you. You, sitting alone at your table, occasionally walking over to get some punch, and Mattheo, dancing with a girl who he guiltily pretends is you.

Occasionally, you’d make eye contact and you wouldn’t even bother to hide the pain in your eyes, looking from him to the girl beside him. You hope he feels bad.

He does.

Picking at your freshly done nails, you huff in boredom. Glancing up, you notice something strange. Pansy’s talking to Theodore in the corner of the room? Well, it’s not too strange, I guess, but it’s interesting. Pansy stopped talking to Theo as a sign of loyalty to you, since Theo was Mattheo’s best friend. So what could they possibly be talking about?

The night is filled with tension filled staring and lingering glances with Mattheo and suddenly, you’ve had enough of sitting around, informing Pansy that you’re leaving. She frowns in disappointment.

“Hold on, just one more dance. Please?” She gives you her puppy dog eyes and you sigh, giving in. Pansy drags you to the dance floor where the two of you move together to the upbeat music, when suddenly, a slow song starts playing. You sigh, turning to leave when Pansy grabs your hand. “Nuh uh, just dance with me.” She tells you, putting her hands on your waist.

You furrow your eyebrows in confusion but don’t object.

Her smile turns from gleeful to apologetic within a second. “Hey, I’m really sorry.” She winks at you and now you’re more confused than ever. “What?” You ask but before you can get a response, you’re being shoved away. You stumble over your dress and your back crashes into some guy's chest, his hands instantly finding your shoulders to steady you.

“I’m so sorry, I—” You start but cut yourself off when you recognize the scent of the cologne behind you. You turn around to find your ex-boyfriend who seems to be glaring at Pansy behind you. You weren’t supposed to push her that damn hard, He thinks.

“Sorry,” You repeat bluntly before trying to walk away but he catches your arm. “Don’t walk away.” He tells you, his voice firm but you can hear an underlying sense of… desperation?

“Having fun with your date?” You ask bitterly, a petty smile on your face. It seems you couldn’t care less that you were on the dance floor in the middle of a bunch of people. You were ready to argue right here, right now. His jaw clenches in frustration. “No.” He answers simply.

“No? Seemed like you were enjoying yourself to me.” You tell him. You know that’s not true, even you could admit that he looked miserable all night, but you were caught up in jealousy. What could you do?

“Y/n, she’s nothing to me.”

You just scoff. “Yeah, right. You know, I actually don’t doubt that. Clearly you have a way of getting girls to believe they mean something to you only for you to drop them like they’re nothing.” You practically rip your arm out of his grasp and walk away, leaving the ballroom. He follows you outside into the courtyard.

“Dove, please. Listen to me,” he begs.

You don’t reply as you just keep walking.

“I love you!” He shouts in a desperate attempt to get you to stop running from him.

And you stop in your tracks. You can’t move. Your limbs are frozen. Why can’t you move? Move!

Taking advantage of your solid state, he walks to you and stands in front of you, taking your face in his hands. Suddenly, you’re teary eyed.

“I love you.” He reiterates in a whisper. “I still do.”

You swallow hard. Why is your chest burning? Is it hope or is it anger?

“Let me explain, okay? I wanted to be here with you tonight. That girl… She’s just a distraction. I thought… I thought that if I came with someone else, maybe I’d get you out of my head, but it only made it worse, baby.” He says, his voice barely louder than a whisper. Your stomach flips at the pet name.

“I hate that I took that beautiful smile off of your face. You look fucking stunning, dove. But you don’t look right without your pretty smile… I’m so fucking sorry I broke your heart. I thought I was doing it for your own good but you’re hurting now and that hurts me. Look, baby, I’m not good enough for you. I know that. But for once in my goddamn life, I’m gonna let myself be selfish. Please come back to me.”

You’re left in silence, stunned, lips parted to say something but you can’t fucking speak.

“My arms feel empty without you in them.” He whispers. “Say something, please. Don’t let me get my hopes up.” He sounds so sad but his eyes are so big and hopeful.

Fuck. Did you ever really believe you stood a chance against his charm? Of course, you’d give in.

You lean up and place the softest, most tender kiss possible on his cheek and his eyes widen. The most beautiful smile graces his lips and he kisses you as if he’s never done it before, like he’d never get the chance to do it again.

You kiss him back feverishly, hands running through his tousled curls and his hands squeeze your hips. The kiss quickly becomes hungry, passionate, desperate, his hand traveling up to the back of your neck. When you pull away, it’s only because you need air. Breathless, you rest your forehead against his.

“Baby… Let me show you just how much I love this dress on you. Let me show you how beautiful you are.” His voice is husky and raw and you can’t help the heat that rushes between your legs.

You nod vigorously and he takes your hand, walking you towards his dorm but your heels are slowing you down far too much for his impatient self. Without warning, he picks you up bridal style and takes you to his dorm, holding your heels in his other hand.

He lets you down and locks the door the second you get in before walking you over to the floor length mirror by his bed, standing behind you and resting his chin on your shoulder as you stare at yourselves in the mirror. His hands run up and down your body, running over the silk material of your dress.

“How did I survive two weeks without touching you?” He murmurs in your ear, his voice low and gravelly. “You see how fuckin’ beautiful you look? You couldn’t expect me to control myself all night.”

His hand goes to the straps of your dress, pulling them down your shoulder before undoing the back and letting the dress fall down, the green silk pooling around your ankles.

“Two weeks without this sight… Why did I do that to myself?” You’re sure he’s practically talking to himself at this point, but you don’t mind, enjoying the feeling and the sight of his fingers grazing over your hardening nipples in the mirror.

“I’m gonna fuck you right in front of this mirror so you can see how perfect you are… So you can see that no other girl, especially not my little date that you were so jealous of, could ever compare to you…” Standing behind you, his chest pressed against your now bare back, he placed kisses on your neck and down to your shoulder before shedding off his jacket and button up.

His index and middle finger travel to your jaw, turning your head to the side so he can kiss your perfect lips. His tongue grazes over your bottom lip while his hand squeezes your tit, eliciting a gasp from your lips and he slides his tongue in between your lips, exploring your mouth.

He kisses you as if to make up for the time that he couldn’t, as if those two weeks were an eternity of being away from you. To him, that’s what it felt like.

His mouth trails down from your lips to your jaw and to your neck, lightly sucking and leaving wet kisses. One hand stays firmly placed on your breast while the other wanders down your belly, to between your legs. You gasp, watching in the mirror. His fingers run over your soaked folds, teasing and stroking lightly but never entering you.

“Mattheo…” You murmur, staring at his biceps in the mirror, your eyes wandering down to the bulge in his pants, making it obvious that you want him naked too.

“Shh, baby. We’re gonna take it slow this time, okay? I’m gonna show you just how much I missed you.” He kisses your temple before laying down on the bed, flat on his back.

“You know what to do, dove.” He murmurs and your breath hitches. You quickly move to straddle his face between your legs. You hover over him hesitantly and he senses your uncertainty.

“Relax, baby. I’ve got you.” He encourages you, rubbing his hands on your thighs soothingly. “Sit.” He demands, his voice gentle but firm.

You give in, slowly sinking down and his hands are instantly on your ass, urging you closer to him. He groans appreciatively as he feels the full weight of your pussy against his face. His tongue flicks against your clit before licking a long stripe up your slit, exploring deeper. His hands move to your inner thighs, kneading the muscle gently as he continues to worship your womanhood. You stare at yourself in the mirror as you ride his face.

“Fuck, Matt,” You lose yourself in pleasure, grinding against his face and he moans into your pussy, the vibrations driving you wild. His tongue circles your entrance and you let out a soft gasp.

His ministrations never falter, it seems like he could never get tired of tasting you. You can’t tear your eyes away from the sight of it in the mirror and you feel like you could cum just looking at it.

His tongue darts in and out of your pussy bringing you closer and closer to the edge. He sucks on your clit, sending waves of ecstasy through your body, your moans and cries of delight only encouraging him to continue his sensual assault on your cunt. Your breathing turns shallow, struggling to hold yourself back as he fucks you with his tongue.

“ ’m gonna cum, Matty,” You mumble, too dazed to think straight. Mattheos mouth waters as he feels your juices drip down his chin while he continues to feast on your cunt. His hands squeeze your ass tight, encouraging you to ride his face harder, savoring the taste of his work. “Cum for me, baby.” He whispers sweetly, hot breath against your cunt.

You let go and come all over his mouth while he works to swallow every drop. You pant, finally looking away from the mirror as you get off of him. He smiles at you from below before sitting up and kissing you deeply, making sure you can taste yourself on his lips.

“You taste like heaven, dove.” He tells you, stroking your cheek gently as he watches your pretty face in its post-orgasmic grace.

“Need your cock, Matty.” You mumble.

“Oh, do you, now? Two weeks and you’re this desperate to be fucked? You really are my little cockslut, aren’t you?” He coos at you and you look away, embarrassed knowing that he’s right.

While he strips off his dress pants, you get on all fours, ready for him to take you from behind, facing the headboard. His hand finds purchase on your hip and flips you over to the other side of the bed so you’re facing the mirror.

“Know just what to do, don't you? Such a good girl. But, now I want you to watch me as I fuck you so hard, you can’t see straight.” He tells you, positioning himself behind you. His hand presses down on your lower back, urging you to arch.

“You ready?” He asks, running his tip over your folds and teasing you. You nod desperately. “Words, baby.” He commands.

“I’m ready, just please fuck me, Matty.” You whine desperately. He gives a dark chuckle before sliding in without warning, watching carefully in the mirror as your face scrunches up in pleasure.

He leans down to place a tender kiss on your head as his thrusts speed up. You feel a shift in motion as Mattheo starts to move faster inside you, his hips slamming against your ass. Your head falls forward as you feel your brain turning to mush in mind-numbing pleasure. His hand grasps you by the hair and pulls your head up so you’re forced to watch him fuck you from behind in the mirror. His other hand slides down to your chest, rolling and pinching your nipple between his thumb and forefingers.

“You see how fuckin’ pretty you look like this?” He asks, his voice soft yet hoarse as he stares you in the eyes. “Couldn’t ever live without this.” He groans.

“Talk to me, princess. Tell me how it feels.” He says it like he absolutely needs to hear it from you. “So good… Y’fuck me so good, Mattheo.” Your words come out in incoherent babbles and he smiles, loving how dumb he can make you.

His hand travels down your body, finding its way between your legs and rubbing at your clit while each movement of his thrusts push him deeper inside you.

“I’m close.” You warn him. “I know. I can feel your pussy fucking squeezing me.” His voice sounds strained, like he’s holding back.

He lets go of your hair to bring his hand down to your stomach, just below your navel, pressing down on the bulge in your stomach made by his dick. “You feel me, baby?” He pants, his voice husky.

You nod, a few tears streaming down your face, makeup ruined. “Feels so good, Matty.” You whimper.

”Who does this tight little cunt belong to?” He asks.

“You!” You moan, his length stroking your walls. You can feel his head brushing your cervix repeatedly.

”And who does this cock belong to?” he asks. You’re so cockdrunk that you can hardly think straight but you know you have to answer his question if you want him to let you cum.

“Me. It belongs to me.” You tell him. He smiles, watching as your eyes roll back in your head.

“Let go for me, baby.” He tells you and you immediately do, cumming all over his cock. He keeps fucking you, working towards his own orgasm and soon enough, he shoots his load deep inside of you before pulling out and peppering soft kisses all over your bare back.

“I missed you, Matty.” You mumble, letting yourself collapse forward on the bed, to which he chuckles, gently running his fingers down your back. His eyes are trained on your pussy and he uses his fingers to stuff his cum back inside you before it can leak out, your body jolting at the sensation.

“Not as much as I missed you, baby.” He kisses your cheek, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you into his chest.

Your eyes fall on his discarded green tie on the floor next to your green dress. You smile.

He never stopped being yours.

first fic! i lowkey hate it and this is my first time writing smut so i apologize if its a bit awkward or confusing 😕💔 thank you sm for reading !! 💘

#mattheo riddle #slytherin boys #benjamin wadsworth #marcus lopez arguello #slytherin #harry potter #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle smut #theodore nott #theo nott #mattheo riddle x you

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