#he is sleeping on the doorstep if you dont let him

[willowser]

when i think of ex husband bakugou i think of you not really feeling safe inside the house by yourself anymore :( just you and your baby and these big, empty rooms he insisted that you keep. you can’t tell him- you refuse to tell him- because you know he’d make himself crazy with worry, offering to keep watch from his car outside, doing it anyway even after you very seriously decline.

being afraid in the house !! 🥺 it's not like it's public knowledge where bakugou's house is, but still. this is the house of a pro hero !! and at one point, you had him in it to keep you and your lil boy safe, but now ?? 🥺 and there are two rooms you don't even know what to do with; one's a half-furnished office and the other is messy playroom for you son that he doesn't really use. it just feels like too much, for you and your lil boy. and it screams of loneliness; all the nights you would bring your son into your big bed in your big room, holding him tight because you couldn't sleep without a body beside you.

and — bakugou would probably lose it if you told him you were afraid in there LOL he's moving back in !! divorced or not !! you know that he'd go overboard with installing cameras he can access with his phone or putting locks on all the doors and windows, oh my gosh.

but you are so right, the minute he gets a weird feeling about it, he's waking up in the middle of the night just to park against the curb across the street 🥺 not even hiding that well, he's just 🥺 watching, keeping an eye out. i think knowing you're a little afraid would just send him bananas—that primal instinct going haywire, the need to protect—and he probably would even send kirishima or deku to check on you, weird as that is. but when they see the look on his face or hear the desperation in his voice to just go and make sure, damn it, how could they not for their friend ?? 🥺

[isuckatwritingsobenice]

𝐇𝐢𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐟𝐞.

Synopsis: What I think Alastors wife would be like, if he had one of course.

Warnings: mentions of blood, pinning, harassment?, Alastor being himself, not in a specific time period but at some point shifts to hell? Let me know if anyone is interested in a part two!!

Navigation!! // Masterlist!! // Serendipity Writes (event)

Alastors wife probably didnt like him at first, and that’s a guarantee. He likes a challenge, but Alastor also likes being liked by people. It fills his ego, makes him feel good about himself. He likes to watch people stumble and fall but quite literally cracks under the pressure of doing just that when it comes to winning you over. Chances were he was constantly trying to figure you out, for two reasons. One, being that he didn’t understand how you couldn’t like him. I mean come on, look at him! He’s got the charm, the manners, the style and the class, the status. What more could you want? The second reason being, the more you denied him, the more he took it as a challenge, the more he wanted you.

Well, surprise surprise, you dont like people with an image to keep up; and to his dismay, that’s exactly what he does. He projects an image. One he refuses to change, and even after marrying you, still doesn’t drop the image, but starts to become more real and honest with himself.

“People who project an image of themselves to others are just trying to fool themselves into being someone they aren’t.” Was what you told him.

Alastor had also asked you out multiple times before you finally said yes. Everyone knows Alastor is very picky with the people he chooses to surround himself with. Everyone he associates with is either there to serve him, or to provide him with something, even if they’re unaware of it. Which only made you trust him less. What purpose did you serve him? What if one day he found you no longer useful and tossed you to the side? Well what were you to do then?

Denying him proved to be a challenge in itself, seeing that he’s quite literally everywhere all at once.

He’d try cheap tricks first. Buying you gifts, constantly showing up at your doorstep with a bouquet of flowers or a stuffed animal. One time he even got you a whole gift basket of your favorite treats. How sweet~ if it was actually about you and not him just trying to patch up his ego. Well at least that was what you thought on the matter.

If that didnt work he’d resort to going ghost. After all, people only miss you when you’re gone right? Well not in this case. He had left you alone physically, at least to your knowledge, but he had still kept a close watch on you. Why, he just knew it would bother you that he suddenly stopped! Until he overheard you speaking with a friend about how happy you were to finally get some peace and quiet. Well that simply wouldn’t do. After all, you should always make an impact, and what kind of impact would he be leaving on you if you went back to your old boring life? No no that just wont do dear.

He’ll start showing back up at your doorstep, taking you on surprise outing to force you to spend time with him. He’ll take you on a walk around a nearby park, a restaurant one day, the picture show the next. He has a long list of places to take you, so you’ll never go to the same place twice! Get your dancing shoes because he’s gonna take you out to the town for the night, after all the city never sleeps! This is when he becomes less forceful, but more of a decent calm. He begins to listen more when you speak, and you actually begin to care about what he’s saying, what a shock!

It’s almost like a switch flips after your outings. He’ll take you to an orchestra show, snickering to himself when he sees your eyes begin to water as the show closes out. He’ll force you to hold onto his arm as he walks you across the street on a rainy night, making sure you don’t slip or trip on the wet pavement. If you ever do, he’ll try his best to catch you and if he doesn’t? Oh what a nightmare, it seems he’s fallen too! For you that is~

You two begin to feel closer, not only physically but emotionally. He gets you to open up about your personal struggles, and in turn, he’ll share some of his own, but not too much. He doesn’t allow himself to be fully and completely vulnerable with you, not yet. But he does try his best to sympathize with you when you share your piece of mind with him. He feels accomplished to know this part of you, and his ego is the last thing on his mind anymore, but instead you take up all the space.

He doesn’t use pet names for you, not cute ones anyway. He’ll call you his devilish belladonna, especially if you love flowers. His creepy spider Lillie. He’ll often speak in the ‘language of flowers’, and will educate you on it if you don’t know so you know exactly what he’s talking about.

He’s the type of person to correct people in public to make them feel stupid, but he never does that with you. Instead he’ll wait until it’s just the two of you and tell you jokingly how wrong you were. You’ll get upset because he let you look like a fool, but in his mind he’s just protecting your feelings. If anyone else corrects you, they’ll have their mouth sewn shut that’s for sure!

He never gets you the same bouquet of flowers. They’re always different, and every week or so you have a new one. He keeps a separate batch for himself so he knows when to get you another. That being said he also makes the bouquets himself, he does not buy them for you already made.

When you finally take Alastor up on his offer to court you properly, he is over the moon about it! Finally, you seem to be coming to your senses dear! Though you quickly follow that comment up with a “Let the blood rush to your head first.” He just bats his lashes at you with a smile. You always know how to make him feel so loved!

Gets very jealous very easily. If he sees you laughing with someone that isn’t him, he’ll size them up before deciding if they’re a threat or not. Heaven forbid anyone actually put their hands on you and uh oh! Limb of the floor someone come get it!

His possessive nature is rooted in abandonment, and thus being said, he has deep attachment issues to you. You are never out of his sight when you two begin dating, and you’re hardly ever far from him in general. You two dress similarly too, especially if you’re from the same era. He’ll switch up your wardrobe slowly so it complements his.

He isn’t one for strong PDA unless he feels like he needs too or just has a strong want too. Usually it’s an arm around your waist, or you hanging onto his arm loosely. The most he’ll ever really do is a kiss on the back of your hand or to your temple. That being said, he’s like this for various reasons.

One, he has a lot of enemies, which means that not not only does that put you in danger, but if you’re also a powerful overlord, it puts him at risk too, though he doesn’t care much about that part.

Second, he doesn’t like physical contact much, and though he always makes an exception for you, he has his image and pristine reputation to keep up. Which you extremely dislike but tolerate because it’s Alastor and if he hasn’t changed much in centuries, nothings going to change ever.

Alastor is very very fond of you, whether you believe it or not. Your fiery attitude has him whipped more than he likes to admit. He’ll joke with other sinners that he’d sacrifice you to save himself but you both know that isn’t true, his nervous ticks prove it to be false, if you do say so yourself.

He’s very fidgety. He’ll tug a piece of your clothing or twirl a strand of your hair between his claws. If you claim he’s messing up your hair he’ll cast a tornado of shadows around you to fuck it up even more, and then smiling at you lovingly when you threaten to cut his ears off because you can’t tell if they’re his hair or just furry ass ears. You always give him a good laugh.

Other sinners are actually convinced you both hate each other, but turf wars on the news show that you two are the most in love when you’re wreaking havoc on innocent sinners for no possible reason other than the fact you two had an argument and the best way to settle it? Dancing in the rain, which actually isn’t rain, just blood falling from the sky because you like to kill people for fun.

“My darling looks the best in red if I do say so myself! Especially if she’s dressed by another’s remains, oh the beauty!”

Alastor has and will continue to get in his feelings about you and his mother getting along so well. He loves you both to pieces, so seeing his two favorite people together makes his dead heart swell with joy.

He’ll ask you to accompany him to the tailors, he values your opinion more than others so you often make adjustments to his suit and he’s just like ‘Whatever she says that’s what’s going on the suit.’ You also make him your personal dressing doll, trying different patterns and styles on him for fun. Alastor is a true skinny jeans hater and he will die on that hill, again. He really appreciates the 60’s style, but prefers to stick to his own decade.

He will take you out hunting with him, and the two of you share breakfast together with the fresh meat you’ve caught. He only gets the best quality for you because he refuses to have you two ‘eating like chums’. A restaurant tried to lie to the two of you, saying their meat was high quality and fresh. Alastor killed everyone in it and you two shared remains like a true power couple. Hells finest of course. ;)

He’s very critical of picking out jewelry for you. Hunting for the perfect ring for you took him ages, mainly because he knew exactly what he wanted but no jeweler had what he wanted all in one ring. So instead he forces them to make him a custom one. Torn limbs and bloody parts later, you have the ring that Alastor worked so hard to give you. He proposes to you Extermination day, claiming he’d love to spend another year in hell with you before the angels come to rip you two apart from each other. It was such a sweet day, at least to you it was.

The type of relationship where he plays the piano and you sing. He loves when you sing and will gush about you to anyone in sight even if he doesn’t know them.

Is very needy in private. He’s a stage 10000 clinger, and will stick to you like his life depends on it, but will be damned if anyone catches him. You don’t tell anyone about it, you like the private life.

You two have cook offs all the time. You make the hotel staff judge, and ultimately Niffty is the tie breaker because she’s brutally honest. Once she told Alastor he should stay out of the kitchen because women were better at it for a reason… harsh!

He was fine though, he got her back by ridding the hotel of bugs. He knows she likes chasing them around and for that she sobbed at his feet for ten minutes asking him to bring them back. It didn’t take much actually, Sir Pentious brought them back on his own, much to Charlies dismay.

He loves to read with you. You two often read a book and once you both finish you have a tea session over it. It starts off being about the book and then somehow shifts to just gossiping and talking shit about the other overlords, except for Rosie, we love Rosie in this household.

Speaking of, Rosie is usually where you get your clothes from. She’s a sweetheart when she isn’t picking pieces of muscle from her teeth, that sharp smile is a killer! She loves to talk about Alastor with you, and usually she’s where you go after you two have had an argument. You’re also her personal Barbie doll. She puts you in outfits and she and Alastor judge over them. Nine times out of ten you leave her boutique with a new wardrobe every time.

Now let’s talk about Vox.

Honestly the whole reason Vox knows about you is probably because he was digging through Alastors shit. But when he sees you? Oh lord, this man is HOOKED.

He doesn’t even know how Alastor managed to get you entangled with him. He finds out about you when you and Alastor aren’t dating yet, and he basically jumps at his chance to try to be with you.

Vox will forever consider you the one that got away, you can’t change my mind.

Alastor has proven time and time again that he’s basically better than Vox. He took a seven year back, came on the radio one day and boom all his viewers were back. In Alastors mind there’s no competition, just Vox being obsessed with the fact Alastor said no.

Valentino uses it against Vox all the time, and it will always make Vox buffer.

[reiderwriter]

hii!! can you do 49 and 68 please??? i love ur writing so much btw

prompts: #49 - "I'm so fucking obsessed with you." #68 - "Sit on my face."

A/N: Thank you for much for requesting! Munch Spencer for the win once again! Not to sound like a broken record, but I think I'm physically incapable of writing a smut that I dont somehow become obsessive over 🫡 I hope you like it!!

Warnings: possessive Spencer, oral sex (f receiving), multiple orgasms, alight come play, penetrative sex, creampie, just some very obsessive writing ngl. 18+ MINORS DNI (that means do not interact for those of you who still don't understand!!)

You weren't sure if you were going to give into him.

You know it'd taken a lot of courage for the man to ask you out, you'd seen first hand that he threw himself head first into relationships, and that meant he was entirely careful about kindling them.

But you'd been so shocked by Spencer Reid's admission that he was romantically interested in you that you'd all but gaped at him the entire time he stood there talking you through it.

After he'd finished, you still didn't know what to say, you just knew that your entire body was aflame with the words he'd dropped in the space between you, and you were vaguely aware that your phone had clattered to the floor, forgotten.

“Y/N, what do you say? Will you let me take you on a date? Please?”

He stood fidgeting in front of you and you almost apologised but your tongue still wouldn't move accurately.

You swallowed, and calmed your heart from the tempest it was running through in your chest to answer him.

“I need some time to think. We work together, it's going to be complicated and I want to make sure I think this through.” He'd politely agreed to that and seen himself out of your apartment, having appeared on your doorstep at near midnight on a work night.

And two weeks later, you were no closer to your answer.

But Spencer seemed to have grown bolder in his advances. He seemed to have taken your entire plight of never realising he was into you to heart, though. Because you sure as hell knew where he stood now.

He used every excuse to put his hands on you.

He came up behind you, putting his hands on your waist as he slid past you, moving you this way and that to arrive at his intended destination.

You'd found that a most annoying male trait in the past, but when Spencer attempted it, you practically leaned into his heat, shivering each time his hands brushed you.

He'd taken to brushing your hair out of your eyes as well, tucking it behind your ear in front of others, and, embarrassingly enough, tying it up for you with one of his own hair elastics.

You'd frozen in the moment as you leaned down to examine some footprints on a case, complaining your hair was in your face as he immediately came up behind you and began gently pulling it up himself.

His fingers moved skillfully, and felt soothing on your scalp as he made sure to get every hair.

You couldn't even say a word of thanks as you sat there wondering what the fuck had just happened, and if anyone else had been witness to it.

Luckily, no one had, and you could only contemplate it alone.

And contemplate it you did. In bed. In the shower. In your sleep. You couldn't stop contemplating it.

You couldn't seem to step over the boundary of professional working relationship to more, though.

So you weren't exactly surprised when he showed back up on your doorstep a month later.

“Spencer. Did something happen?” you breathed a slow sigh as you opened the door to see him standing there, still and tense, as if he was ready to spring an attack at any second.

“I'm obsessed with you.” His voice was low as he took a slow step forward, letting his gaze rest on your lips, and not moving it as he continued his path forward.

“I'm obsessed with you and I've tried to show you that for the last month, and god, please you have to please release me from this if you can't accept it.” He took another step closer and then he was in your apartment and closing the door behind him, blocking out the cold that had your nipples hardening. You assumed it was the cold.

“I think about how you would taste daily, how you would smell, how you would feel wrapped around me, the sounds you would make. I think about any other man getting close to you and I feel angry and sad and my chest physically aches.”

“I think about how I could make you happy, how you'd smile at me every morning,” his hand hesitantly reached up to tuck another stray hair behind your ear as he stuttered through yet another confession.

He was close now, so close your back was pressed against a wall as you resisted your chest meeting his.

“I will leave and never mention this or touch you again if you can't take that on, but if even one part of you thinks this is an experience you want…”

You finally looked into his eyes as your fingertips rushed forward to touch him, darting out to feel his chest and press yourself further into his warmth.

The physical confirmation must have been enough, as in moments his lips were dropping to meet your own in a sweet, but still strong kiss.

He moved achingly slowly as he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you further in to his atmosphere, taking each small caress as an indulgence, each run of your lips across his as a blessing coated in lust.

He went so luxuriously slow, that you had to be the one to pull him in closer, to give into the passion threatening to throttle you from inside out.

You tugged him back through your apartment to your bed, making sure to rid him of his coat as you went, lips still exploring each other as you did. His hands held you firmly, wrapping you up in a strong embrace even as you needed him to move faster, to touch, caress, tease, and pleasure you.

You pushed him away when your back hit another wall, only so you could get some air between you as you waited for the next logical step in the direction you were headed.

“Spencer, I want you to make love to me.” You always hated that phrase, feeling it was so cheesy and overly sentimental, and yet that was the only way you could describe what you wanted from him.

He looked at you and suddenly, it was as if a flip had switched inside him. His slow, discovering kisses became bruising and hot as he marked his way down your neck, eager to please and desperate to know all of you. Your body was another book Spencer needed to read, more knowledge for him to acquire and never forget, never let go of.

Gently raising you off the ground, he pinned you against the wall, as you wrapped your legs around his waist, feeling his notable arousal through his clothes. He began divesting you of yours, the casual t-shirt you'd slipped into after work being easy work for his hands, sweatpants following suit as he memorised every inch of flesh visible to him.

With two hands firmly cradling your ass, he made his way into your bedroom, and sat on the edge of the bed, you in hand. Your core rubbed over his cock, and a deep dissatisfaction crept up your body. You were empty and you wanted so badly for him to fill you.

Your need became a great force clawing at his clothes, rocking your hips into him needing as you scrambled button after button, wishing your hands would obey your mind.

He groaned under you, the sound catching you off-guard and flooding your panties even more. He caught your hips and steadied your pace as you worked yourself up to a high without ever having fully touched him.

“Y/N…” He breathed it out like a prayer and a curse combined, pushing your hips down tighter as he tried to put an end to your elicit movements.

“Y/N stop, I want…” His lips finally left your neck as he took a deep breath, opening his eyes to look directly into yours.

“Sit on my face.” It was a demand, one that wouldn't be ignored, and honestly, you weren't sure you wanted to ignore it.

He laid himself down more comfortably on the bed, pulling you down with him as he stroked small circles into your lower back.

His hands worked down until they reached the waistband of your panties, hooked a finger under them and slowly dragged them off your ass, forcing your hips up to get them further away from his prize.

“Please, Y/N. Please sit on my face.” You moaned at the request again, dropping one final messy kiss to his lips before climbing up and over his head.

You completed the job he started with your underwear, deciding to go the extra mile and discard your bra as well. He wrapped his hands around your thighs and shifted your cunt to better suit his own position, and you braced yourself as he pulled you closer to his devilish tongue.

The first swipe of it was so foreign that you almost bolted upright like a cat dropped into a bathtub. But he held you fast and pulled you right back down as he began his meal. He'd said his prayers, and now he was ready to indulge himself in the taste he'd been craving for the last month.

You braced your hands on the metal headboard of your bed, thankful that you lived alone as you knew there was no way of muffling the noises that were beginning to toll off your tongue.

Head thrown back in pleasure, it was all you could do to not beg him to never stop, to keep up your pleausure for eternity, even as he left himself unsatisfied and rock hard.

Everytike you pulled slightly back from the stimulation, he pulled you even further in, until you were sure he couldn't breath, his mouth and nose so lost in your heat and so intent on your pleasure.

You almost forgot it was his face below you, and started desperately riding him, grinding your clit into anything that would allow for some friction.

Every few minutes he came up for a larger breath, letting his fingers slip inside you as he explored your every reaction.

There was only so much you could take, and apparently tongue and fingers was just that step too far, as you let your body convulse over him.

He let you ride it out, drinking in every drop of juice that escaped you, finally getting that taste he'd become so obsessed with discovering.

When you finally pulled away, his lips and chin were slick with your arousal, and his face was awash with desire.

A tiny push had you on your back as he crawled up between your legs again, taking the time to unclassified his pants and pull them off, discarding them along eith the shirt you'd so painstakingly unbuttoned for him.

“I am going to make love to you, Y/N, and you are going to be mine. You'll always be mine.” His forehead rested against your own as he finally slid inside of you, sheathing his whole cock inside of you as it expanded with his intrusion, trying to find room for him.

He fit like a glove, provided the glove felt this fucking good, so warm and comforting to know he was filling you completely.

His thrusts began and you were almost overwhelmed by the sheer arousal he inspired in each heartbeat.

Wanton moans left your mouth as words failed you, tongue lolling about as you desperately wished he'd slip his head down to let you taste yourself on him.

“I love you so much, Y/N,” he said, tightening his grip on your hips so much you were sure his nails were going to leave tiny crescents carved into your very bones.

Your second orgasm snuck up on you, hips suddenly jolting up as if they'd a mind of their own, milking his cock as he whimpered at the sudden tightness.

“Y/N, I love you. I love you, I love you I love you so much,” the words were overwhelming as you struggled to speak through the after shocks of your climax, legs still twitching even as he spilled his seed inside of you.

“Now you're mine,” he whispered into your ear as he again found a stray lock of your hair and tugged it right back behind your ear, as if it would help you to see him that much clearer.

Your vision was already so filled with him though, that you were sure it would not matter how far he was or how obstructed your view, he would be the only thing you saw for the rest of your life.

Maybe you were a little obsessed with him as well.

[reikoknshii]

🩸 Scarlet...Milk? 🥛(pt.2)

[This was heavily requested 😭 but i love y'all and have this ❤]

(Words: 1.3k)

"I'm watching you....."

Was written in the note, you stumbled back as you look ahead of the building that leads to the metal doors. The bloody doppelganger staring at you before disappearing in the blink of an eye.

You're being stalked...

Out of fear you rushed to your apartment after closing the main gates of the building.

'would that mean that doppelganger will be aggressive?..'

You think as you paced around in front of your apartment, it was the second floor apartment near Nacha's room. You sat down on your doorstep frustrated and nervous, if you messed up he will kill Francis...not only Francis, mostly anyone in the building-

"Y/n?" A soft and gentle tone asked as you turn your head to see Nacha's peeking out of her apartment room. "Miss Nacha- did i disturb you?"

"No, not at all..i just heard you groaning and pacing around, you seem down in the slumps"

"Ah..well, is it okay?-"

"I dont mind, come in we can talk about it"

꒷︶꒷꒥꒷‧₊˚꒷︶꒷꒥꒷‧₊˚

"Thats why...." You said softly explaining the whole incident that had happened as you averted your eyes to someplace , while Nacha takes in all the information. "I don't really get this doppelganger thing, but you seem like a lovely and kind person Y/n.."

"We appreciate you and your doorman duties, remember to take care of yourself whenever" Nacha said as she smiled at You, your venting didn't include your growing admiration for the milkman because well...

From what you know Nacha is Francis ex-wife and its hella awkward to tell her you had a crush on her ex-husband.

"Your muffins are good-" You said breaking away from the topic as you took a bite from the blueberry muffin she offered earlier when you entered her house.

"Why thank you, i baked them with Anastacha" Nacha said happily as she went to the fridge. "would you like some milk? I bought this, funny looking thing-" Nacha said as she pulled out a red bottle of...'Scarlet milk'

You choked on your muffin and soon recovered, you immediately rushed to Nacha and grabbed the bottle.

"Dont"

"D-dont?" Nacha asked confused as you took the bottle and examine it. "its a bottle of blood, where do you get this-"

"It was left by the main gates-"

"Nacha...I'm not crazy, do not..receive the scarlet milk next time" Nacha eyes were wide as she nodded to your statement. "Y/n perhaps you should get an eye shut for tonight? Y-you seem shaken-"

"I'm..." You inhaled as you let go of her shoulders. "Maybe i should" you said sorry as you made your way out of Nacha's apartment room.

"Sweet dreams, Y/n" Nacha said as you closed the door gently.

You stared at the bottle of blood on your hands as your eyebrows furrowed at it. "I'm not delusional..." you said to yourself as you threw away the Scarlet milk into the trash bin.

You went into your apartment for some sleep.

꒷︶꒷꒥꒷‧₊˚꒷︶꒷꒥꒷‧₊˚

You didn't manage to sleep at all, you keep hearing voices at night telling you to let them in.

'Y/n..'

Go away..

'Y/n!'

"GO AWAY!" you screamed as you stood up from your bed, it was 5:30 am in the morning.

"Y/n?" A familiar voice asked outside of your apartment door. "Francis?" You asked softly as you stood up from your bed.

You opened your door to see the Milkman all in his glory and uniform. "You alright? You screamed and i heard it from outside" he said as he stared at you with his tired eyes.

"Y-yeah..yeah I'm alright"

"You look..frightened" He stated as he noticed it from your appearance. "I'm fine Francis"

"Just a nightmare.."

"You hear them too?" Your eyes went wide as you stared at him. "What?"

"...mm..nevermind, maybe you should get ready..Ill head to work now, the milk dont deliver themselves" he muttered as he went ahead to the elevator.

"S-see you..." You were filled with mixed emotions, what does he mean 'you hear them too?' .

Is that why he's sleep deprived? At least you're not alone...

꒷︶꒷꒥꒷‧₊˚꒷︶꒷꒥꒷‧₊˚

You started another day of your shift as you opened the metal covers. "Dont let this be weirder than usual" you muttered to yourself as you turn to the gates to see the yellowish eyes.

You dropped your keys and rubbed your eyes , wondering if you're seeing it right.

The eyes were gone...

"There's nothing..nothing at all-" you said to yourself to reassure, and went to your office.

...

The day went weirder, doppelgangers are trying to get in more frequently than usual. It was stressing, doppelgangers get angrier each time they're caught and you feared for your life and the apartments residents life.

"I'm okay.."

'I'm okay' you said to yourself as you keep going, you feel like breaking down. One wrong decision all blame will be pointed at you, and you alone..

"Mmm...Hello" Francis said tired as usual entering the hall in front of your office.

"Francis-" you said as he showed you his papers. "You alright Y/n?"

"J-just...overwhelmed" you answered as you checked his information.

"Mm...take a rest after this"

"I-i should..." You said softly as you opened the metal door for him to get in.

"Mm...Hello"

What...

Your eyes went wide as you stared at the second Francis. "You're a doppelganger-"

"What...?"

"Stop playing with me!" You said frustrated and angry. "Y/n you need to calm down...i just got off from my delivery shift"

Oh no..

Oh noo..

"Francis?!" You cursed under your breath and let him in your office. "Whats happening-" the milkman asked confused and exhausted from work.

"Stay in here- dont leave" you said as you grab your walkie talkie. "Press the emergency button and call D.D.D. when i page you through this" you explained as you hand him the spare device.

"Okay.."

"Please...be safe" you said as you closed the metal covers and door on your way out of the office, you went in the apartments and hit the emergency button to immediately alert the residents to close their rooms.

"You're no fun at all..." Said the doppelganger by the end of the hallway holding the tray of Scarlet milk.

"And you're a threat" you said as you pulled out your gun that was given to you by the D.D.D. services. He rushed to you as he tackled you down on the ground, bottles of Scarlet milk shattered on the way he dropped it near you staining both of your uniform and his.

"I told you ill get back at you" he said hungrily as his tongue licked your face. You kicked his stomach and crawled to the direction where you dropped it, but he stepped on your hand and laughed at you.

"No one would remember you" he started as he presses his foot on your hand making you scream in pain. "They'll see you as a crazy security that let in a threat"

"Oh yeah?" You managed to blurt out. "That doesn't matter, i bite" you said as you bit into his ankle Making him step back and let out a frustrated groan.

"FRANCIS-" you page into your walkie talkie. "CALL D.D.D. NOW--"

You grabbed the gun but the doppelganger kicked you to the nearest wall. "You protect their lives but who will protect you?"

He walked to you with one of the Scarlet milk. "No one.." He grabbed your face as he smiled, his eyes were empty as he forced the bloody bottle into your mouth.

You pulled the trigger of your gun thats pointed on his shoulder and shot him.

He screeched in pain as his face start to distort into a monster form of creature that you fear to see. His form rapidly changing as he charged back at you only for you to shoot him twice on his head.

He fall down on the floor, his blood and yours everywhere on the hallway of the 1st floor.

Your eyes were heavy and your head hurts, soon enough you passed out...

[yejinnie]

☆ only you.

the things yang jeongin would only let you do to him.

- pairing. yji x reader

- tags. fluff

✧ physical affection.

this one was quite obvious, since jeongin isnt very fond with physical affection from others. however, since he incredible whipped to you, you are the only exception. he even finds himself craving for your touch, which at first he found weird as he isnt use to feeling such emotions towards a person. his favourite physical affection from you is intertwining your fingers together or when he comes home from practice, his body aching from pain and couldnt wait to be embraced by your warmth, as he snuggled into your neck while laying ontop of you. (his members are very much jealous of you, so don't be surprised when a whiny innie is behind you trying to hide from han trying to kiss him for the 100th time)

✧ letting you have a bite of his food.

bruh you seen this dude eat, like pookie your food aint gonna run away, you don't need to shove the whole thing down your throat. 😭 eversince you and i.n had gotten together, jeongin had became more protective and affectionate over you. in the early stages of your relationship, you had went on study mode during exam season, causing you to skip sleep, as well as eating. when jeongin found out what you been doing, bro evaporated into thin air and suddenly appeared right infront of your doorsteps with a bag full of food he got along the way to your place. ever since that, he had grown into a habit of shoving whateva he's eating into your mouth. oh, jeongin is eating pizza, in your mouth it goes. he's eating ramen, wow the chopsticks has teleported infront of your mouth. if mans eating, be prepared to hear here comes the airplane~. basically just be prepared to be well fed.

✧ accepting your kisses

jeongin has made it clear to his members that his lips are only reserved for you, however, some dont get the message (han im looking at you) so whenever his members ever see you guys kiss, be prepared to hear the endless mimicking of smooching and teasing towards you two (more aimed at jeongin tho). however, even though their teasing is annoying, he would go through it all day if he had too. just so he can kiss you again.

✧ poking his dimple / touching his face

sometimes you can't contain all your love for jeongin (LMAO LOVE SURGE) so one of the ways you would express it, is by ruffing his hair and squeezing his cheeks. when you first did it, his face was painted in red, as it froze in a shock expression, however, his face quickly changed into a frown and a whiny jeongin was awaken when you started to shower him with compliments. another way you had showed your love to jeongin was when he was talking about something but instead of listening, you were distracted by the dimple that peeked out on his cheek as his mouth moved. so out of instincts you poked it, which has impacted him alot, as i.n stopped mid-sentence and started to ask you what you were doing while giggling. it may of not seem like it affected him physically, but oh boy, jeongin felt like a hot mess. his heart had stopped beating and his face started to grow hot. oh how much you affected him.

hellooo my name is zizi and this is my first post pls be niceee (⁠◍⁠•⁠ᴗ⁠•⁠◍⁠)♡

(btw this is not edited so sorry for any mistakes)

[millerscoffee]

reader lives in jackson and is friends with tommy, so she sees joel relatively frequently, and they just DONT get along. the reader is young and she’s got a sharp tongue and cheek that irritates the shit out of joel, who shoots back just as much condescending insults. they literally can’t be in a room without getting into it. however, the reader does it for his attention (she’s got daddy issues), and joel doesn’t catch onto this until she’s knocking on his door at midnight because she can’t sleep and she needs him and she doesn’t know how to admit it. he pulls her in the house and absolute filth ensues. he makes her blow him and then they fuck. joel is smug and condescending the whole time, and reader just becomes a ragdoll. Size kink, dirty talk, daddy kink, creampie/breeding, the works PLEASE

you got it, anon! ✨ this was requested on @atticrissfinch's page too, go check it out! i love how the same request can elicit two different stories. i did my best not to read it before i finished this (it was as difficult as it sounds cos HOO BOI 😅🥵♡)

only daddy that'll walk the line

6.2k | joel miller x f!reader

rating: 18+ MDNI

warning: big mean dom!joel™️ lmao, alcoholism (reader's dad, but also drunk!joel for a second - **this is not in the smutty scenes**), parental abuse (verbal, it is brief), smut, age difference (joel is 56, reader is 18-early 20s - your choice), size kink, dirty talk (joel's a talker more than his usual grunty self), name calling (bitch, brat, slut, etc.), light praise kink & like- two pet names, ✨ degrading language and acts ✨, edging, choking/gagging, hair pulling, creampie, breeding kink, daddy kink, spitting kink!!!, spanking, oral (m receiving), no prepping the reader, brat tamer!joel, bratty reader, if i missed anything lmk

summary: based in jackson, you have the unfortunate predicament of being friends with tommy miller and hating his brother, joel – and you have no problem in letting either of them know that! until one night you are brought to joel's doorstep.

A/N: this is my first request! thank you! huzzah!! hopefully it's to your liking, nonnie. he's big mean dom!joel™️ but with a conscience yknow?? enjoy ♡ i did proofread this, but i wrote it over the course of a couple weeks. i did my best! lol

"Dude, what's his fucking problem!?"  You roll into the dining hall in a huff.  Shuffling to your seat for dinner, you slam your tray down and Maria gives you a combined look of worry and irritation at peace being compromised.

"Who, honey?"  Tommy asks, handing you a glass of water with an entertained grin because he's positive he knows just who you're talking about.

He'd seen the two of you go at each other's throats earlier in the day when you were trying to get by him on your way out the door.  His back was to you, and he all but ignored your request to get out of the way.  Causing you to shove past him, which ensued an argument between the two of you.  Which led you to both of you gunning each other with your words until you both left in a bad mood.

Joel had his back to you, his frame fully in the doorway as he spoke with a woman in town.  It started off slow: a few clearings of your throat, a slight nudge of his back.  No avail.

"Excuse me," you shouted, pushing at him again before he finally turned around quickly with his jaw ticked.

"Do you have any manners, Christ."  He said dry and muttered under his breath, but the lady made room for you and you nodded politely in her direction.

"Maybe if you weren't so fucking old, you could've heard me!"

"And watch your fuckin' mouth."

Joel turned his back to you, not giving you a moment to retort.  Conversation over. 

"This fucker," when you look up, you see Joel coming towards the table.  The sight of him gives you a set of shivers you can't explain.  Not complete disgust, but certainly not excitement.

"You really oughta keep better company," Joel tells his brother, sitting down beside him, he frames his entire body towards Tommy so he's sitting in a way to make you feel ignored.

"I'm right here, you know."  Your head is moving so you're in the line of his vision.

"Don't remind me.  Listen, this is a family dinner.  Go find your own."

A slap in the face would've hurt less.  Before Tommy or Maria had the chance to come to your defences – both of their mouths open ready to take up for you – you stood up, shoving your tray over to Joel.  So loud, other people turn their gaze to the four of you.

"Fuckin– eat up, then."

As you storm off to your house, you hear Tommy scold his older brother but you don't look back.

---

The next morning, your father wakes you up to the sound of his own yelling for you to come downstairs.  You'd been helping out Maria and Tommy to get your own place, or at least a shared one with people your age and to hear your dad's voice; whiskey-soaked and cruel, makes your stomach churn.

After slipping on your clothes for the day, you make it to the kitchen where he's sitting at the table and reeking from alcohol even from where you're standing.

"Didn't you hear me call you?"  His words were slurred and angry.

"Yes, I'm sorry."  It's such a difference from how you talk to other people, talk to Joel, for example.  Maybe because he's the last person you spoke to, but he's the first one who pops into your head during this interaction.  You sound meek, scared to say something wrong.  A stark difference from how you speak to Joel – abandoning all worries of punishment.  Almost like you wanted that from him.

"Fuckinbetterbe – hiccup – breakfast.  Now."  Your dad all but snaps his fingers and rage creeps up the back of your throat, biting your tongue so hard you break the surface layer.  A slight streak of blood coats your mouth, but you do as you're told.

This morning is kinder than others.  Your dad did not say thank you for the pancakes, you didn't get hit or debased too much.  You consider it a win.  Once you leave your house as soon as you can, Joel's chest hits your face as soon as you turn the corner.  The milliseconds seem long when you're met with the warmth and solidity of his chest, the scent of cedar and... whiskey?  It seemed too early, even for him, to be drinking and you shake off the unreasonable rationale that he should be treated differently than your father for the same behaviour.

You ignore the similarities of him and your father all together, actually.

"Watch where you're goin'," Joel's brows are knit together, which is normal for him, but you've never been this close to see his lips from this angle above you.  You almost say something out of the ordinary for the two of you, but you reel it in quickly.

"You're one to fuckin' talk.  Morning coffee smells a lot like alcohol.  Maybe I should tell Tommy about your habits."

"Does it ever hurt your head bein' a bitch all the time?"

"Not as bad as that hangover will be around noon.  Move."

You push past the large build in front of you with a clenched jaw, unable to be around him a second longer.  "Fuck you, Joel," you mutter for good measure on your way to Tommy and Maria's.

They'd given you safety on days when it seemed scarce, and showing up felt appropriate.  You were a little closer with Tommy than Maria.  He was able to listen to you without being too judgy, and you needed that.  The lack of safety piece was a lot like how your day started off.  You walk around to the back where Tommy's working on a new hobby and you sit in front of him, letting out a big sigh.

"Y'daddy givin' you trouble again?"

Typically when Tommy asks about your father he says it like this, but today it catches you off guard.  Confusion twists your mind, but you nod distractedly.  "Yea, he was drunk this morning.  Your brother, too."

You slide that one in fast.

Tommy fists through his hair, letting out a heavy exhale.  "Shit.  We both got trouble this mornin', I guess."

"Seems like it."

You're unusually quiet, looking at the ground more than anything.  It bugs you that Joel and your father have a similar quality to them.  That they both are up reaching for the bottle, but for Joel it's not a common occurrence and that makes you worried – an emotion you don't have for him that often, if you're being honest.  You don't think about his experiences that often.  But this is the first time, really, you've even seen Joel drunk like that.  You remember Tommy mentioning that he'd given up the stuff since Sarah's passing when everyone was around a fire one night sharing stories.

As if the dots connect in real time, you look over to Tommy who looks worried sick.

"He'll figure it out,"  you reassure, chewing the inside of your cheek before heading out.  You call behind you, "I'll be around."

You've never really been good at the whole 'being there for someone' thing.

~~

Later on, you find yourself in the mess hall again for the night's dinner and you catch Maria, Tommy, Joel, and Ellie all together and it feels weird to sit with them.  They're all laughing, Joel looks sobered up.  And it seems that Tommy didn't bring up the conversation the two of you shared.  They look like a happy family and twists a knot in your throat and the proverbial knife at your side.

"Can I please spend the night at Tommy and Maria's?  Please?"  Ellie is looking over at Joel with the sweetest expression, you snicker to yourself at how menacing she actually was.  It seemed to do the trick, though.  Joel's eyes flicker over to you, and it feels like you're being caught for something.  The look is inculpatory without you doing anything.  As if to say you are witnessing something too personal, a side of him not meant for you.  "Yeah, sure," his response to Ellie sounds distant.

This gives you no choice but to walk up to the scene, to sit down beside Maria.  She gives you a welcoming grin and makes space for you.  "What'd I miss?"  You look over to Ellie who's excited to see you, but Joel?  Not so much.  His eyebrows narrow down his face, suddenly more quiet than usual, even for him.  You set your sights back on Ellie who's telling you all of the cool things she's gonna do at her Uncle Tommy's and you flash a smile that lets her know you're listening.  Or at least trying.  It's hard when Joel isn't even initiating the usual conflict with each other.  More arguing than speaking.  And the fact it wasn't happening was off.

"That sounds like a blast...," you trail off, your chin in your hands.

"If you're not gonna listen to her, don't ask her questions."  Joel barks, eyes now solemnly black in your direction.  It makes you scared and delighted at once.  Like he was back to normal.  Your normal.

"I was listening to her?"  You retort, and everyone's quiet now.  Awkwardness filling the air as the two of you battle it out.  "Maybe if you weren't so drunk all the time you'd know the differen–"  "Hey, now."  Tommy chimes in, giving you a stern look of disapproval and you feel bad.  Reflective.  Joel wasn't drunk all the time, and you knew exactly why he was this morning.

You exhale, "I'm sorry," you nod in the direction of everyone but Joel and stand up from your seat, "enjoy your family time."

On your way back to your house, you catch a glimpse of a group of people your age.  People you'd grown up with, but they didn't acknowledge you and it digs the wound closer in.  You truly felt alone.  Like nothing fit, and maybe you didn't belong in Jackson but it wasn't like there were many choices to go to.

---

More times than not you sneak into your room.  Not because you are past a type of curfew, you were an adult.  It was more, you didn't want your dad to know you were around.  Your door was locked when you climbed in through the window.

You got comfortable, spilling out of your clothes for the day and into your pajamas.  Cotton shorts and a loose tee.  Your breasts perky and nipples taut from the worn fabric.  A lot of the day was spent dealing with heavy subjects that you just wanted to let your mind escape.

Staring at the ceiling in your bed, your eyes become blurry in need of sleep.  Needing release.  Anything.

Your mind wanders to why Joel was so quiet with you when you sat down.  It wasn't like that was the first time the two of you had a shouting match in front of everyone, but this felt different.  You deduce it to Joel having an off day and let your mind wander somewhere else.

Or, at least you try.

Because when your hands explore your body under the blankets, Joel comes back to life in your thoughts.  You come back to the warmth of his chest when you ran into him this morning, the grunt that left him from impact.  What that would sound like against your ear.  Before you know it, you're shifting your thighs together, spreading the mess of your cunt.  A craving ignites your bloodstream.

It's slick between your legs when you sit up, and you're full of determination unbeknownst of where it's coming from.  The act itself is a little heady, but you have nothing to lose so why not?

Slipping on a pair of shoes and a jacket that covers your clothes, you turn your back to the window and scurry down until you're able to jump off onto the grass.  One step close to where you want to be.

Joel's house is across the street which makes it easy to get to, but aggravating when you want a sense of peace.  He's always around, shooting you a menacing stare when you're not down each other's throats but there's an ache you can't deny.  A compulsion.

You knock on his door twice before he swings it open almost like he saw you approach, but he doesn't tug you inside like you thought he was.  Doesn't make you get on your knees or fulfill any fantasy of being used.  Of... making him proud.

"What?"  His question is dry and a part of you is crushed. He isn't taking advantage of the way your legs look in your shorts right away.

"You're not the only one who had a bad fucking day," you start, but he doesn't give you a moment to push through the door because before you know it you're being pulled inside.  The sound of a slamming door somewhere behind you.  You're forced to look at him with his paw wrapped around your jaw, thumb tilting your chin up effortlessly.  It locks you in place.

"You came here.  Why?  Y'want me to fuck your bad day away?"

You gape is panicked, eyes wide now in this compromising position.  You can't think, you can't nod or say words.  You just stare.

"She's real fuckin' quiet now," Joel shoves you against the closed door, not letting an inch of space be wasted and he takes your wrist with his free hand, palming you over his hardening cock in his jeans.  "How about now.  You payin' close attention?"

You whimper, nodding softly as your fingers massage and rub, tug at anything you can through the fabric.

"Did I tell you y'could do that?"  His words make you pause, shivering at how truly empty your mind is in the moment.  Even in your inexperience you don't know you've ever felt so instantly timid.  Joel makes you fold at the first hint of misbehaviour.  You can't think of a thing to say.  Halfway don't know why you're here in the first place, and he's got you so wet from this it almost hurts.  Stickiness coats your thighs as you squeeze your legs together and you're sure it will be obvious even through your cotton shorts.

You shake your head, and he's sick of you not speaking to him.  Squeezes your face tighter, "Use your fucking words."

"No... no you didn't," you manage and you've never heard yourself sound so pathetic.

"I didn't, that's right.  You answer to me."  The snapping sound of his words causes your eyes to roll in annoyance.  He doesn't own you, he never fucking could.  The action makes his jaw tighten, his hand from your jaw in a grip that didn't hurt now is wrapped around your throat and although it's not tight, it certainly isn't loose.  "What the fuck was that?"

You're back to being silent, unable to do anything but take.

"Not asking again."

"I rolled my ey–"

"You rolled your eyes.  Roll your fuckin' eyes at me again, little girl.  You'll regret it."

A cool threat, you think.  Meaningless, even.  What possible reproach would he have anyway?

It's then you take in the house.  You'd been here once before to stay with Ellie.  It's dark, a single lamp upstairs.  All of this is background noise to the drone of your need prickling your youthful skin.  It's apparent, your age difference, when you're this close.  His rough fingers, wrinkles catching the moonlight peeking in through the windows.

"I–I'm sorry," you've been saying that a lot lately.

"Don't apologise to me.  Don't say sorry when I know you're not."  His thumb moves from your chin to your lips, thumbing over just how pliable and soft they are and it sends your nerves to the surface.  Prying your lips apart, he presses inside and you willingly wrap your lips around it to lap the pad of his digit.  "Look at that sweet thing," he says, more at you than to you, and your neck flushes being this willing to suck for him, "so easy for me to use.  I put my thumb to y'er lips and you just took it right in, didn't ya?"  The taste of his skin robs you of any other sense, his tone making you all but fold.

"Show me what this mouth is good for, 'cuz it sure ain't good at a sincere apology."

Before you know it, you're on your knees.  Joel is kind enough that he ushers you down onto the hardwood floor and you can't believe you're face to face with his crotch in front of his door, no less.

"You couldn't wait to take me to your bedroom?"

Joel doesn't reply straight away.  Instead you hear the clanking of metal, a zipper coming undone, and the slap of his cock hitting his abdomen on the way out of his pants.  You take mental note that he hasn't been asleep by his attire, but it's all for nothing when your eyes make out the shapes in the dim light.  You choke when you see just how big he is.

He tuts, leaning his head condescendingly as he takes a chunk of your hair in his palm to tilt your chin up to greet his cock.  "Aw, you think you're goin' t'my room?"  The words make you feel naïve, the one or two times you've done something like this didn't have nearly as much... compromise.  And you certainly didn't hook up with someone twice your age.  You don't have time to be self-conscious because the head of him, the leaky head of him, is tapping against your lips and your eyes roll back as you open your mouth for him.  After jumping slightly in surprise, of course.

He sighs in relief with a deigned smile, pushing his hips further.  "Fuck.  You hear that?  Nothing!  Sounds so fuckin' good, shuttin' you up."

But it's not entirely nothing, is it?  Not with your gagging, slurping up what you can but you don't know what you're doing all the way and fumbling through half of it.  Doesn't seem to faze him much.

It's obscene as it feels, him using you like this – and you don't feel an ounce of guilt when it's exactly what you want.  The switch flips on why you came to his door in the first place.  His big thumb swipes over the corner of your full mouth, "You like that, dontcha, filthy thing?"

And you hated how right he was.  You wanted to scream, kick him.  Retaliate in a way so you could still be in this submission at the same time.

Your mouth was full by the earthy taste of him, obliterating whatever feelings you had about the day.  A bad mood that he had contributions in, but it's melting from the constant thrust of his hips.  And he's keeping your head locked in place, hand gripped in the strands so you can feel your spit mingling with the underside of his cock.  Honestly, every part of his dick is covered in your spit.  It spills down your chin, threatens up your nose when you gag, leaves your eyes to water when you look up at him in a dire need to breathe fully, but he's not done with you.

Not until the loudest, lewdest pop from your mouth you've ever heard does Joel break contact completely.  Steps back until you're being observed in a patronising way.  Your gone expression.  All saliva and tears and his precum smeared over your mouth.  You can barely bring yourself to look up, but his demands seem to do the trick.

Snapping his fingers at you to get your attention, you swallow hard.  "Nuh uh.  You're not gonna get all soft on me, girl.  Wake the fuck up."

Which would be simple if he wasn't practically dragging you by your hair, making you crawl on your hands and knees until you're on your feet and you're shoved onto his couch.

All that and you're still dressed.

"Off," he's barking commands like you're a trainable being and if you were in any other state, you may reconsider this whole ordeal, but when he pushed you onto the couch your legs spread just enough for him to see the wetness smearing the cotton at the apex of your thighs and that amuses him. "not good at hidin' how much of a slut y'are."

"You think it's just you that does this to me?" You find your voice again, hoisting yourself up to sit on his couch as his cock – thick and proud – sways against the fabric caught between it.  Your tongue presses to your cheek when you make eye contact, "You're kidding yourself."

The venom drips so fluidly from your tongue, Joel doesn't make a sound.  Just peels off his clothes until he's standing there naked in his house, giving you living proof that you are kidding yourself.

The silence speaks for itself.  He is pure smug under the sight of your drooling gaze.

"It's real cute that you think y'got control over the situation n'all," the weight shifting on this couch from the cushion shaping around his knee.  Joel sits down, taking you by the scalp again to cloak you over his lap stomach-first, and you yelp in surprise when he does all of this and tugs your shorts down in one fell swoop.

With your hair in his fist, his other hand ghosts over your ass in effort to make sure you squirm for him before administering a devilishly loud spank to your ass.  "But somebody better teach you better manners.  Sure as shit itn’t your father."

You crack out a sob at that– from the contact and the truth.  You couldn't retort, you were too busy getting slap after slap against your increasingly worn ass to think about anything else.  "Lucky I ain't making y'count.  You'd have this for eternity now."

Not that it mattered anyway.  He's leaving mark after mark of his large handprint across your cheeks, probably ten more if you could even focus on anything else but finding the words to stop him.

"Please– y-you're right," tears stain your face as you bury your face in your arms.  Flinching when Joel moves, you expect another searing punishment, but instead he pulls your ass apart and you gasp at the cool air striking your cunt that's hot and wet for him.  "Joel!"

“Dirty fuckin’ girl, wet from gettin’ punished.  I talked so bad about you, and you liked it?  You’re as desperate as I thought.  Only good for gettin’ my cock wet.”  And it’s like a lever is pulled when your slutty little smile plasters over your face with him out of view.  Not that you had much time to gloat, or to experience the pleasure of living in your own fantasy because Joel’s got you pulled again.  His thick thighs spread apart when he maneuvers you so willingly to sit between his legs.  Right where he wants you.  Right where you can feel the throbbing pulse at your folds.  He tells you to take off the rest of your clothes and you would be a fool to do otherwise.

“Bad girls don’t get the luxury of bein’ opened,” that Texan drawl slips over your ear when he holds the base of his cock, slicking himself through your folds, you gasp and wriggle against him – his grip tightening harder.  Silently warning you if you make another move it’s over, you’re done.  It’s over.  All the while the searing stretch of him causes your cunt to flutter and clench around him.  It’s too much, too overwhelming, and he won’t let you adjust long enough.  “You’ll get over it,” but it’s not reassuring.  He still sounds in control despite his laboured breathing and when he can, he moves his hands to grip your hips and guide you down on him.  You scream, a knee jerk response wriggle away from him, but this position doesn’t quite allow for that.

“Be a good girl.”

That folds you, quite literally, as he moves his hips down to pound up into yours, using you like his own toy to get himself off with.  And it’s just the incredible sounds of your squelching cunt and his balls tapping against your folds.  The fucking isn’t frantic, but it certainly isn’t soft.  He’s rough with you, a hand traveling up your back to grip your hair so your neck is back in place and he lifts you upright so your back is curved, neck craned so if you tried, you could make him out – upside down.  “Poor thing couldn’t help it, had to get a daddy to take care of her.  You want that, kitten?  Wanna be used and as daddy’s little fucktoy – only good for makin’ me cum?”  his hand sneaks around to the front of you with his free hand, he presses and digs into your pubic bone to make you feel exactly where he is.  “Put a baby right here.  Make everyone know what you fuckin’ did.”

You whine, eyes rolling back at the thought.  It was so obscene, nothing like you’d ever even heard of before.  Where did he fucking learn how to talk like this?  Your brain is swimming while your sticky sweetness coats his lap, clawing at his thighs for any sort of stability, but it was dizzying how he had you.  How his grunts filled the air in between slaps like he had your hips placed at the perfect angle for him to work you.

“You’d like that wouldn’t you?”  His gritting teeth by the shell of your ear, he keeps you secure within your hair to snake his arm around the front of you tugging and rolling at the sensitive nubs of your nipples.  When he feels you appear to drift off, those rough hands supply another smack, but to your tits this time, your fingernails clawing into his thighs involuntarily as you squeal in surprise.  You tighten at that, fluttering around his cock and you feel it at the edge.  So close you can almost taste it.

But he knows you’re close, too, and there’s no way in hell he’s giving that to you.  Not when you’ve barged into his house like this, not when you’ve done nothing but be an insufferable brat to him since the moment he came to Jackson.

Joel hovers you over his lap, and your heels dig into the floorboard.  His hips still, keeping the very tip of his cock inside of you – you feel panic flash over your body.  “No,” it’s the first word you’ve uttered in god knows how long and it sounds desperate.  Any hope of getting an orgasm swirls down the drain, and it’s set in stone when he pushes you on your back – the lumpy couch digging into your skin.  “No, no, please.  Why!”

His eyes could burn a hole through you.  Like a hungry dog, his body hovers – shoulders stooped, head down when he pours his gaze into you.  And he likes what he sees.  Legs open and begging, willing to do anything to get him back into you.  Your cunt glistening, even in the dull light and he can tell it’s pulsing.  “Poor thing’s clampin’ around nothin’,” he teases, grunting when his knees meet the couch cushions – another tell of his age.  But you, you’re too preoccupied in taming the ache between your legs to comment.  It burns, coming back to a fixed state you realise how stretched out you were and it’s more than overwhelming.  To know you haven’t been used to completion, all hope draining from your face.

“Joel,” your breath is shaky underneath him, pupils blown and wet when you make out his features, “Joel, please.  Please, I want this.”

“Darlin’, I know you want it.  Everybody in town knows you want it,” his words make you sob a whine as they approach closer to your neck, the delicate graze of his beard dances at your pulsepoint and you shudder.  Hips raise and he’s quick to slam them back down into place.  “If you want me, ‘Joel’ ain’t whatchu say to get me.”

And if you felt hopeless before, you really do now.  Unable to do anything but debase yourself for your own pleasure.  You’d heard it earlier, the way he referred to himself with a name that brought up mixed feelings at Tommy’s.  You swallow down embarrassment, looking him in the eyes – which were faded obsidian, your fingernails dig into your own thighs as if to brace for what’s tempting to slip out of your throat.

You hated that he made you nervous.

And you hated the hold he had over you.

But he had it, there was no doubt about it.  He had it.  He had you.

Your jaw ticks forward, fully aware of your clit screaming for attention and exhale shakily.  “Please, daddy.  Please, I want this.”

“Eh,” Joel muses, shaking his head, “I don’t believe ya.  Really gotta hear the desperation in your voice.  Maybe if I,” his hand reaches for his cock, slapping the sloppy head of it against your folds and that– that sends you.  Takes you to a different destination entirely because for the first time all night there’s attention to that bundle of nerves, and he knows it.  He knows you need this in order to give everything over to him in full.  “Daddy!” you screech, pelvis jutting up in full inclination and without a single word, Joel’s cock spears into you all the way to the hilt.  All the way to your cervix.

His hands, emitting heat and wrapped largely around your hips, locks you where he wants you like some animal in heat.  It forces you to bring your legs up into a position you aren’t sure you’ve ever been in – thighs against your stomach, by your sides.  It’s so, “deep,” you whimper, head rocking as your mouth flies open and he’s delivering you thrust after thrust of pleasure so wrecking no noise comes from you.

“Is that what you needed? Fuckin' brat,”  Joel is still able to tease, but even he isn’t immune to how tight you are around him.  Your fluttering core begging for release as it moves in and out around him – as if it’s doing its own begging.  “You wanna be filled up to the brim with my cum, babygirl?  Needy fucking cunt like you only good for matin’ like this.”  Your skin burns at his words, your body convulsing as you do your best to keep it together.

That’s when Joel’s hand wraps around your throat, a line of spit falling into your mouth and you willingly drink from him.  “You hold off, you ain’t gettin’ it tonight,” you pout for a moment, not fully understanding what he means by that, but he clarifies when his hips get sharper, more precise.  As if his cock is hooked inside of you, not letting a drip of precum spill out of you against your cervix.  “Y’ain’t cummin’, but I am.”

His grip around your throat gets harder, and you swear you can see every vein in his face rise to the surface when he uses you.  You’re limp, all thoughts washed away – his cock thick and long, you aren’t even sure how he fits it all inside of you but he does.  The edge of your stomach bulges as he works you, his neck cranes back to expose his neck and it’s too much to take. For both of you.  His hot cum ropes cords inside of you, sticking to your walls.  Filling you up is an understatement with how much he has to give you.  It’s as if you can discern the moment his seed grazes your cervix in its sticky texture.  Your head is swimming at the sound of your animalistic grunts, he looks so… fucking hot like this.  His name is replaced with ‘daddy’ more easily than you care to admit.  You do try not to chase your orgasm… a part of you does, anyway.

But you’re defiant.

You can take yourself there without him telling you to, and in fact the opportunity to disobey him is just what you need to send yourself creaming all over his cock.  You gasp, eyes wide before they roll back and you’re fucking yourself on his spent cock that somehow still has life to it.  Even for his age, he can still keep it hard for you after his seed coats your insides.  “Daddy, daddy, daddy,” becomes part of your breath, and you’re shocked he doesn’t pull out of you even though his hips are still.  You don’t notice it until you come down considering you’re using him.  Did he say you could do that?  As if you’re woken up by an alarm, you jerk at the sensation of the orgasm you snuck.  Without his permission.  You look up, and his knuckles are bleached around your hips.  He looks so menacing like this, scary.  You shake your head, swallowing hard in your attempt to fix things.

But it’s too late for you.  You’re a brat at the end of the day, and he has to train you.  Make you realise the error of your ways.

His cock is still buried deep when his middle finger plays where the two of you connect.  A whine escapes you, shivering now, not quite sure what he’s going to do.  He’s lethally quiet, you aren’t sure how to react.  He’s contemplating what to do to you, he’s not met someone who’s as menacing as he is.  As unwilling to give away freedom.  Not since… his nostrils flare as he inhales.

“I told you not to do that,” Joel stating the obvious makes you clear your throat, his cock twitching inside you in the aftershocks sends your teeth to bite down on your lip and you shake your head, “I c- I couldn’t help it!” You lie, and he knows it.  Compels him to prod that middle finger just above his cock inside you and the stretch is too much.  When you reach out for his forearm, his other hand darkens over your wrist, pinning it back in a way that hurts.  You wince in tandem with it and his monstrous hook of the digit inside you.  You’re so full, “It’s too-it’s too much!” you tap at anything you can, but he’s not listening.

Instead, the pad of his finger has no problem in touching that spongy bit inside of you – especially since your cunt is stretched from his cock and he can see it.  His cum tempts to pool out of you, but he shoves it back in, working his finger inside you repeatedly but he’s just rubbing.  He’s just rolling his finger against your g-spot until you feel so overstimulated it brings more pain than pleasure.  “Came like you knew what you were doin’,” he finally remarks, thumb rolling over your clit and you can’t take it.  “Please, pl– it’s too much!  Daddy!”  That rhythm is sly, though, in making you come undone.  Again and again.  As you’re on the peak of what would be an explosive orgasm, Joel pulls out of you entirely.  His cock, his finger.  His warmth is a distant memory when he stands up, palming over his cock.  How did he get hard again?!  He would deal with that on his own time.

Your moan is choked out, thighs pressing together for any sort of… something.  A release, a grind.  You’re left panting and begging, your tits perky and heaving for him.

“What did I say, little girl?”  He climbs into his clothes, one button up at a time with his flannel.  “You won’t be cumming for a week with that fuckin’ attitude.”

You’re so lost in chasing a feeling, soon to disappear as it could arrive that all you can do is whimper and nod.  “I’m so–” his hand grips your jaw, forcing you to look up at him.  Spit covers your face, and you hum like a kitten at the feeling of his hot saliva down your cheek, “What did I fucking say about apologisin’ when you’re not sorry?”

You wipe your face, sucking the spit off your thumb with a satisfied smirk.  “Fuckin’ loved it, daddy.”

He swallows then, his head shaking in disbelief over how much of a filthy bitch you are.  “Yeah, yeah you fuckin’ did.  Belong to me now, you understand?  Gonna let everybody know what a slut you are for this cock.”

And you would be lying if you didn’t experience a swell of pride in those words.  You’d be down each other’s throats again in no time, but the look of ownership that adorns his face over you is too much not to bask in.

“A week?”  You study him, eyes wet and round, look up at him and you see his cheek twitch in response.

“Gonna be two if you keep it up.”

You let out a faint sigh, resting your head back on the armrest.  “Yes, daddy.”

“Good girl,” he coos, leaning down to press his lips at the shell of your ear.  Fingers tucking his cum back in your hole.  He relishes in how hot you feel under his fingers.

“Now get the fuck out of my house.”

taglist: @cool-iguana - dm to be added!

[fullsunfilm]

svt hyung line as your bf hcs

im not sure what inspired this but here are some hcs for svt's hyung line being your bf >.<

svt x f!reader, all fluff

wc: ~1.9k

read the maknae line ver

seungcheol

☆ always "accidentally" leaves his clothes at your place (and loves when you wear them or return them and they smell like you)

☆ puts his arm around your waist whenever he can. he loves how you both look in photos with his arm around you

☆ lets you put kkuma's pins in his hair and poses next to her ("arent we cute? we look alike, right?")

☆ takes you out to eat at fancy restaurants just to see you all dressed up. he likes the way everyone in the room turns to stare at you as you walk in. you look gorgeous, and hes so smug about being your boyfriend its almost annoying.

☆ loves matching couple jewelry, especially rings. will always buy them and give them to you saying "look, these are so cute! we can match!!"

☆ buys you literally everything you look at (hes definitely a big gift giver) and wont take them back even if you leave them in a box at his doorstep.

☆ the type to pull up anywhere at any time with just one text from you just so you dont have to drive. even if youre not a passenger princess, youll turn into one while dating him

☆ possessive; definitely demands that your lock screen is a photo of him kissing you to ward off other guys. hes even asked you to start wearing his cologne so that they know youre taken

☆ loves to pout at you until you give in and give him what he wants (usually, a kiss)

☆ you basically cure his insomnia. he always tightens his grip on you when you try to get out of bed in the morning and makes you late to work ("babe, if you leave i won't be able to sleep. just stay for five more minutes..")

jeonghan

☆ loves to tease you and see your reaction, but reads you well and knows when to stop

☆ a bit mean, but in the most endearing way possible. the type of start play fights in front of your friends and suddenly burst out laughing when they get all concerned

☆ lets you hold on to him for as long as you need to, especially in situations where he knows youre uncomfortable

☆ whisks you away from crowded areas to be alone with you and hug you

☆ keeps a candid polaroid of you in his wallet

☆ sets your lock screen as an extreme close-up of his eyes that jumpscares you the next morning

☆ a bit shy about showing affection in front of others, but eventually gets used to it and becomes more bold as time goes on

☆ knows exactly how to press your buttons and does so all the time, only to relieve the tension between the two of you with a boop on the nose or a kiss that makes you laugh

☆ enjoys spending time with you at home more than outside, but does take you on spontaneous shopping sprees when he gets a burst of energy (you leave the mall after an hour of looking around because he's tired)

☆ listens to you and comforts you when youre having problems, but is able to gently tell you when its your fault without making you upset (its a gift!)

joshua

☆ always thinks of you whenever hes out shopping and ends up buying you gifts that remind him of you

☆ loves to surprise you and see your reaction with back hugs and kisses

☆ remembers your dietary preferences/restrictions and puts in extra effort to buy foods that fit them

☆ pulls up with two drinks instead of one without even needing to ask you

☆ hand-makes you something related to his newest hobby (a bracelet, perfume, etc.)

☆ loves to watch you talk about things youre passionate about. he loves the way your eyes light up and (although he cant understand a single thing about your tangent) tries his best to keep up with you

☆ always up for a challenge, specifically ones that end in him receiving kisses ("really? alright, bet.")

☆ loves to play with your hair and helps you style it whenever he can

☆ listens to you when youre upset and just allows you to rant it all out while rubbing your back and holding you close

☆ makes the cheesiest acrostic poems for you and laughs when you cringe at him

jun

☆ loves hearing your laugh (and he'll do anything to keep hearing it)

☆ goes out of his way to do weird things to make you crack a smile and distract you if youre sad/uncomfortable

☆ likes it when you run your hands through his hair. he lays his head on your lap and lets you massage him

☆ takes photos of you whenever you make a weird face in your sleep and looks at them when hes bored (they give him something to smile about when hes away from you)

☆ hugs you from behind and lays his head on your shoulder whenever he needs comfort

☆ up for anything! a late night drive to get the most unhealthy burgers in existence? sure! dressing up in stupidly large mustard and ketchup costumes for halloween? absolutely! waking up at the asscrack of dawn to prank minghao with silly string? hes already on his way!

☆ tries his best to stay up with you for as long as possible, but finds you so comfortable that he ends up falling asleep with his head on your lap

☆ hangs out with your friends and lets you hang out with his, too. definitely the cause of a friend group overlap/merger

☆ gives the worst advice as a joke before he gives you his actual advice just to see your dumbfounded face

☆ gives in to the kitty agenda and lets you jokingly paint whiskers on him with your eyeliner. the selfie he takes afterwards is saved as your lock and home screen.

hoshi

☆ makes you horanghae for a photo and sets it as his home and lock screen

☆ helps you paint your nails on your non-dominant hand, but ends up leaving a mess. he pays for a manicure afterwards to make it up to you

☆ tries to teach you how to dance and is genuinely encouraging. he doesnt laugh or make you feel bad when you make a mistake, instead just helping you through the movements until you can dance a simple routine with him

☆ is always bragging about you to his friends and is super proud of you and all your achievements ("guys.. my girlfriend is literally the smartest, prettiest, most loving person ever.. how did i even manage to pull her?")

☆ always supports you on your endeavors! he makes constant deep-dives into your hobbies and interests so he can enjoy them with you and talk about them with you

☆ is super affectionate when hes drunk (hes been latched on to you and peppering kisses on your face for the past hour and he has no plans of stopping for the rest of the night)

☆ seems to get into the most odd situations that you bail him out of, but hes thankful every time

☆ hes a big hit with your friends and family. they all love him and he prides himself in that

☆ gets way too excited while spending time with you and ends up spilling the drink hes sipping on (he cleans it up while you laugh at him)

☆ takes you with him everywhere he goes. his friends are accustomed to the two of you being a package deal

wonwoo

☆ normally wouldnt go out of his way to do anything, but commits to any silly bit you have in mind with full passion and force (even if it makes him blush like an idiot afterwards)

☆ likes to have you in the room/next to him when he plays video games (the type to say "gg gf buff" after he wins his ranked games)

☆ he silently cares for you; he puts his hand over sharp corners so that you wont get hurt if you bump into them, he walks on the outside of the sidewalk so that you wont get hurt by the cars, he always puts out your work shoes so that you can just slip them on during the morning rush

☆ hes always watching after you and keeping an eye on your surroundings. he wraps his arm around your waist and is extra affectionate when he sees a creep staring at you

☆ the type to let you hog the blanket on cold nights without much pullback. he resorts to cuddling closer to you to stay warm

☆ reassures you that even though he doesnt show it as boldly as others do, he loves you and plans to stay with you forever

☆ goes grocery shopping with you after his afternoon nap. his hair looks like a bird's nest, but he doesnt mind and follows you around the market fondly, making sure to hold your hand as he walks

☆ loves it when you need help getting things off the high shelf. he loves to tease you about it and likes your frustrated expression

☆ he wears his glasses more often because you like them on him

☆ when he wakes up every morning, his arm is numb from you laying on it for the night. still, he doesnt move a muscle until you stir

woozi

☆ even with one of the busiest schedules on earth, he still makes time for you. for the time he cant see you, he leaves you small, thoughtful gifts

☆ he has a small part of his studio decorated and furnished just for you

☆ he always lets you listen in on what hes making, and asks for your opinions. he really takes what you say to heart and even makes the members re-record some parts just so he can see how your suggestion fits in to the song

☆ he takes you to the gym. regardless of whether or not youre actually working out with him, he likes having you there with him to cheer him on. it pushes him and makes him hit a new PB every time!

☆ even though he doesnt show much affection physically, he shows it through his music. he has countless songs saved in his drafts with lyrics about you, about how perfect you are, and about how youre constantly running amok in his mind and heart

☆ writes lots of his solo songs for you, and even records drafts of them, but can never manage to sing them to you without blushing like a madman and having his voice crack from the nerves

☆ he honestly thinks youre the most wonderful person hes ever met. he loves you completely and has no doubts in his mind about his feelings. you complete him.

☆ his apartment, previous cold and empty, is full of life thanks to your decorating skills and the scent of your lingering perfume

☆ he loves it when you wear lipstick and kiss him. when he looks in the mirror, he can see the hues of your pretty red lipstick all over his face and neck

☆ the type to make you look at him by grabbing your chin and turning your head. he likes your flustered reaction and kisses you to help you regain your composure

a/n: this was so fun to write!! maknae line next :3

[wolfiesmoon]

What a fate

Ran x good girl! reader

this is a part 2 to my fic "i can't sleep", dont worry i'm feeding ur families they will no longer starve. apparently people are really into ran considering how many notes that fic of mine got (and who can blame them honestly)

unrelated but i cant believe it took me this long to get into housewife radio by ghost i love the horror vibes because of course i do

You've had a turbulent few days recently. Ever since you agreed to do that stupid dare Ran hasn't left you alone.

He did promise to do so but you didn't think he was actually serious about "making you his". How could you let this happen?

Things turned out completely opposite to what you expected, though. Instead of dragging you to his gang meeting to beat the crap out of you, he's taking you there to threaten his lackeys that if they even so much as lay a finger on his girl (you), they'd feel hell on earth.

You suppose that it's nice that he wants to protect you but you feel extremely out of place and uncomfortable at a gang meeting of all places.

Your parents think you're studying at a library right now. Somehow, you feel like you're commiting a crime.

You also met his brother at that meeting.

It seems being a good-for-nothing delinquent runs in their family. You feel sorry for their parents. If they even have them.

"Wow, I would've never thought the nerd would be your type." Rindou teased Ran. Actually, maybe it was both of you he was teasing.

"She's the one that kissed me first." Ran smirked at you.

"You're the worst. Both of you." you furrowed your brows, not finding either of them amusing in the slightest.

"Your girlfriend hates you, man. Personally I would not put up with that." Rindou seemed disinterested, checking his nails as he said that.

"I am not his girlfriend, either!" you defended yourself but Ran just looked at you like he pitied you and Rindou looked like he didn't believe you.

"Right, okay, if you say so. You two have your lover's quarrel on your own. I'm going elsewhere." Rindou just casually left, leaving you all alone with Ran in an abandoned storage unit. Oh boy.

"Umm, I should get going- ack!" you felt your wrist getting grabbed, preventing you from leaving. There's your only exit up in smoke.

"Leaving so soon? But we haven't even had our fun yet." Ran smiled at you and you honestly felt scared at that moment. Oh no, you shouldn't have yelled back at him so daringly just now. Now he's going to beat the crap out of you and drop you off in front of your parents doorstep as a warning to never mess with his gang again.

He leaned in closer and you braced yourself for the pain, but instead of that you felt his lips on yours.

Kissing...?! Again?! Well, atleast it's better than a punch to the face... You can't believe it's come to a point where you're glad to get kissed by Ran.

But still, does he have to kiss you in the least romantic place possible? Even if you did have feelings for him you'd totally find this moment cringy.

"You suck at kissing." He comments heartily, pulling away.

"I'm not the one who kisses a new girl every day. Maybe I actually have some self-respect." You crossed your arms. He was your first kiss after all.

"Every night is an exaggeration. It's like, every week." You couldn't tell if he was joking or being serious, even if you saw his expression.

"Oh, wow. Glad to know that I'll get cheated on in about 3 days. Way to make your 'girlfriend' hate you less."

"I'll stop for you." He smiled.

"Uh huh, whatever." You rolled your eyes.

Though, his kisses are actually kind of making you.... No, no! Don't fall for that! You can't believe you almost admitted that you'd fall for him if he kissed you more.

.

"How's it going with your new boyfriend, girl?"

"God, do not call him that." You held your forehead in frustration.

"I think he's taken a liking to you." Your friend nudged you, pointing at Ran who was sitting on the other side of the cafeteria and smiling at you as he ate.

"Great." You said sarcastically, immediately looking away when your eyes met.

"See? It ended up well. Now you have a hot bad boy boyfriend." Your friend kinda wished she'd done it instead of daring you.

"Didn't I just... ugh! I don't think my parents would agree with you." You placed your forehead on the table, groaning. "You date him if you want a bad boy so bad. But I hate you for dragging me into this." Your voice was slightly muffled.

"Yeah, we'll see. You'll be the happiest couple ever in like, two months."

You raised your head, looking back at Ran once again. You're in quite the pickle, aren't you? The next thing you know, you'll fall for Haitani Ran.

How scarily exciting.

.

"Hop on." Ran stopped on his bike in front of the library. How he knew you had a study session there today? Don't worry about the details.

Another motorcycle ride... You feel like you barely survived the last one.

"My parents expect me to be home in 10 minutes." You crossed your arms. You weren't lying, either.

"Who cares? Live a little." Ran rolled his eyes playfully. Clearly he isn't going to let you back down.

"I'll do it, but only if you keep it to ten minutes." He was right, backing down isn't your thing. You wonder how much resisting him you could get away with if you weren't special to him.

Special to him... huh.

"Killjoy." He insulted you lightly as you sat down in front of him. Again, neither of you are wearing a helmet. This is the last time you'll let it slide.

"I prefer to not get scolded endlessly." You held onto him tightly because you knew what was coming and didn't want to almost fall off the bike again. He felt proud when you held onto him like that.

Like you're finally his. To be honest, he didn't really care much for you until you kissed him out of nowhere like that. How bold of you, the top-of-the-class rule stickler. But he likes that. And that's why he decided to make you his.

Isn't the fact that he lets you ride on his motorcycle enough to see that?

You felt the wind blowing against your face as you set off. Now that you feel it again, it doesnt feel too bad. It's kind of nice, actually. And Ran is warm, too.

The scenery moves past the two of you and strangely, you feel really calm and at peace. It feels like your parents don't exist in this moment and that you can just... live, and feel the adrenaline of the high speed.

This is so scarily exciting.

"You look relaxed." He said, looking down at you.

"I am. And look at the road, will you?" You scolded him but your voice was still relaxed. You look up at him again.

He actually isn't that bad looking. You kind of understand why some girls would fall for him. You, on the other hand...

Are unfortunately befalling the same fate.

He didn't say anything but you had a feeling he knew you were staring.

"You look like you're in love."

"What?! How would you even know?!" You looked back at the road, hiding your face from him. You can't help but get defensive of such a thing.

God, you hate that he's right.

[barbies1shots]

"where ever you go i wont be far to follow,

oh i love you so ,

youll learn that i already know .

i love you , means that youre never , ever ever , getting rid of me !"

☆ - creep!satoru , yandere , stalker!satoru , obsessive!satoru , power dynamics , NONCON , abuse , SELF HARM , body fluids

Gojo Satoru who knows that everyone should bow down to him.

Gojo Satoru who everyone wants him dead from the moment he was born.

Gojo Satoru who expects everyone to know how powerful he is.

Gojo Satoru who could kill someone without raising any suspicions.

Gojo Satoru who has the same repetitive schedule, day by day.

Gojo Satoru who ignores all calls from his work just to find something or someone, to change his repetitive schedule.

Gojo Satoru who heard of you through his good friend, Geto Suguru.

Gojo Satoru who seemed uninterested and unbothered at the fact your cursed technique is completely defensive.

Gojo Satoru who, behind closed doors, relishes the idea of fighting a defensive technique.

Gojo Satoru who stalked Geto's schedule and eventually finds out where you go to school at.

Gojo Satoru who catches you from afar, drinking in your patterns and what you do on a daily basis.

Gojo Satoru who thinks you are the most beautiful, eye-catching person on this entire planet.

Gojo Satoru who wants to devote his entire being into being with you.

Gojo Satoru who purposely accidentally bumped into you and made you spill your drink down your shirt, making it see through.

Gojo Satoru who turned back on his infinity as he apologized many times with a sheepish smile on his face.

Gojo Satoru who asked what your name was and complimented your hair.

Gojo Satoru who, later that night, imagined pulling and tugging on it as he rubbed his tip that it looked more irritated than anything else.

Gojo Satoru who followed you wherever you went, he neglected his work, his studies, just to be everywhere you are.

Gojo Satoru who went wherever you went.

Gojo Satoru who visited every place you did.

Gojo Satoru who smiles in the fact you can not see him when he's with you.

Gojo Satoru who catches you smile differently at the patron behind the counter.

Gojo Satoru who wants nothing to come in between him and you.

Gojo Satoru who caught you in the store.

Gojo Satoru whos face scrunched up confusingly as he caught you ramble about the man you were talking to, suddenly went missing.

Gojo Satoru who nodded along as you told him what happened before the man went missing.

Gojo Satoru who shook his head.

"I could try and look for him if it helps your mood? I just dont want you being all sad anymore."

Gojo Satoru who appears at your doorstep with a bouquet of flowers and an apology that he couldnt find the man.

Gojo Satoru whos eye twitches, as he tried to not laugh maniacally.

Gojo Satoru who smiled instead of laughing as you let him in your house with warm arms.

Gojo Satoru who bit his lip to try and hold back as your head rested soundly on his shoulder.

Gojo Satoru who put you to bed and left after putting a mini camera in your room.

Gojo Satoru who went home to immediately watch the live footage of you sleeping.

Gojo Satoru who smiled as he watched you change, your beautiful body bare just for him.

Gojo Satoru who stroked his cock the same way you played with your clitty when the stress became too much.

Gojo Satoru who scratches at his arms when he's stressed.

Gojo Satoru who makes himself bleed when things dont go his way.

Gojo Satoru who catches you on your way to your car after a long day of training.

Gojo Satoru who cocks his hand back just to deliver a leathal punch into your jaw, immediately catching you off guard and making your head spin sideways before you dropped unconsciously.

Gojo Satoru who scratches at his arms as he observes your face swell up and become discolored.

Gojo Satoru who wakes you up with his head between your thighs and his lips wrapped around your clit.

Gojo Satoru who stares into your face, waiting for a reaction.

Gojo Satoru who laughs in delight as you come on his tongue, making the grown man groan.

Gojo Satoru who pressed kisses into your sore face and aching neck.

"Ive been waiting for this for so long, baby. you just dont know. Ive been watching you for months and youre all I need. Youre perfect so accept me. I understand I did all this without your consent but you have to see the bigger picture here! I am meant for you, you were meant for me. I was meant to be yours! You cant leave us apart."

Gojo Satoru who turns off his infinity when he is with you.

Gojo Satoru who pleaded with you with a trembling voice and shaky hands.

Gojo Satoru who gripped onto you as he pleaded.

Gojo Satoru who wanted to feed you but had to force feed you due to you not wanting to be spoon-fed.

Gojo Satoru who dressed you up in dresses and small skirts because they were better than the wretched pants and leggings you were wearing.

Gojo Satoru who fucked you so good it had your legs tensing up and you running away from it.

Gojo Satoru who smiled wildly as you begged him to slow down, that you couldnt take it anymore.

Gojo Satoru who made you cum on his tongue untill you were limp and pliant.

Gojo Satoru who drunk everything you said up with a head held high and a smile on his wretched face.

Gojo Satoru who moaned and whimpered as you licked his lengthy cock.

Gojo Satoru who dreamed of this since the day Suguru mentioned you.

Gojo Satoru, whose toes curled in his shoes as he made you drink every last drop of his semen before he even thought about letting you out the chains around your wrists and ankles.

Gojo Satoru who stared at you with a scarily blank face when you screamed at him.

"Let me go dammit! I want nothing to do with you, Satoru! Youre just a power-hungry boy with a god-complex. you kidnapped me and forced me into this and- and people will find out! you can't keep me here forever!"

Gojo Satoru whose face stretched into an expression youve never seen the man make as he realized what you mean.

Gojo Satoru who smiled when you spat a glob of saliva on his shoe.

Gojo Satoru who snapped as you cursed him out.

Gojo Satoru whose foot made contact with your stomach, making your body lurch with every kick.

Gojo Satoru who smiled as he heard your cries and sobs.

Gojo Satoru who watched as you threw up everything the man fed you.

Gojo Satoru who watched you lay limp in your own vomit.

Gojo Satoru who squats down next to your head and kisses your hair line before whispering that hes incredibly sorry.

Gojo Satoru who smiled sweetly as your pained groans were heard from behind a makeshift gag from your underwear.

Gojo Satoru who wrapped your legs around his slim waist as he pounded into you.

Gojo Satoru who rubbed your clit harshly just to get you to clench around him.

Gojo Satoru who said you could take it when you said its too big. too long.

Gojo Satoru who rubbed ointment into the large bruises on your stomach.

Gojo Satoru who said he loved you more than he had the will to live.

Gojo satoru who knew you could never get away from him, never get rid of him.

if you have any tips PLEASE message me . i want to have more confidence in my writing .

-Aizawas BARB !

[mandalhoerian]

lamb to the slaughter | leon kennedy x reader

read part 1: moth to a flame pairing: leon kennedy x fem!reader summary: ❛ You become responsible, forever, for what you have tamed. — Antoine de Saint-Exupéry, The Little Prince. ❜ It's as easy as that three word sentence for Leon to undo a month of moving on from him right after he comes back from Spain. Easy as surrendering to sleep. Eagerness for his uninhibited love makes you forget he isn't one to open up like that in the first place, you should have known the moment he showed up on your doorstep on his own volition that he wasn't your Leon. He'd only come back to spirit you away. Yet, each man kills the thing he loves, as a famous poet would say. But what about when the beloved lets herself be led to the killing? word count: Almost 25K (im sorry) warnings: DARKFIC, proceed with caution. porn with plot, switch leon, yandere leon (kinda? he's infected/plaga leon), lots of smut (face sitting, dry humping, couch sex, rough sex, mirror watching kinda its a window, chained leon, blowjob, tail riding, kinda bondage with chains, creampies, no protection dont be like this kids), jealousy, angst, things go to shit, abduction, leon infects you, protectiveness, confinement, psychic connection through plagas, corruption, consensual arousal-inducing venom. you got the bad ending. lmao dont look at me. we are not seeing the pearly gates notes: 🐑 i say bad ending for a reason, you can accept this as a sequel to moth to a flame or just ignore it! 🐑 leon's appearance here is inspired by the red eyes mod + the mechanic of his superior species is built on what we saw with krauser and all the plaga leon fanart i've seen. though he only lets his tail out and nothing else. 🐑 the pressure of leon's characterization got too much so i threw it all out of the window. now everyone can be equally upset. thank you for all the love, i hope you enjoy this!

🌀 read on ao3!

Leon comes back from Spain a bit different. 

Different is the specifically chosen word here because you’re not accustomed to seeing him like this. It might be you who’s the problem here, but right off the bat something’s out of place to you.

A pattern has been broken.

No contact with him for nearly a month and he appears on your doorstep one night with a dreamy smile on his face you could only imagine a younger, more carefree version of Leon could afford as if all the weight of this world has been lifted off his shoulders, and as if he isn’t here to pick up whatever he’s left behind after your break-up. 

You’re more flabbergasted than anything. He’s absolutely glowing. Healthy. His black compression shirt leaves little to the imagination underneath that leather jacket, and the tight jeans hug his legs in just the right places, your nose picking up the whiff of some rich cologne that would have you normally salivating over him had it not been for the timing. 

A delivery to home directly from your late night daydreams, tempting as a mirage in the middle of a desert, as he intends to be — you’re acutely aware why in the hell he’s dolled himself up at night knowing you’d be either reviewing some documents for work or getting ready for bed, all in your humble, homely peasant outfit. 

It doesn’t feel good knowing what might be the reason. Feels even worse sensing something’s up. 

The thing is… When Leon decides he’s done with ghosting you after the eventful business trips that have him dropping off the face of the earth, it’s almost always in bad shape. It’s rare that he breaks a bone or two, but purple, yellow and green are his colors, along with the sunken, red, and sleep-deprived, exhausted eyes. He comes back to you like a cat seeking refuge from the storm outside, for a safe place to get some rest where he can switch off the survival mode. And you’ve learned to prepare for these rainy days he tends to make his return on. 

This man standing in front of you with take-out dangling from his hand, relaxed and confident with light in his brilliant blues, perfectly silky hair, and a well-rested, handsome face that lacks all the gloom? You almost don’t recognize him. His soft and exuberant voice as he greets you, “Hey,” might as well belong to a stranger. “I look that bad? Haven’t seen you make that face in a while.”

“No,” you refuse automatically, squinting your eyes and trying to wipe the sleep off via rubbing, shaking the initial shock and the whiplash off, your hand tightens on the side of the door. The more entertaining quips have escaped you, such as: ‘More like, haven’t seen you in a while, and that, second.’ But of course your woozy first instinct is to relieve him, and rooting for how Leon can’t look bad even on the worst of days, but that’s irrelevant now, isn’t it? “Sorry, I’m a bit loopy.”

“Ah, shit.” He raises his wrist and shakes it so the sleeve of his jacket would pull back to reveal his watch. “I didn’t realize it was this late. God I am so sorry—”

“No, it’s fine—”

“I bring offerings for your time, if it’s any consolation.” He looks hopeful. God, when has he last been this youthful? It’s blinding. “Have dinner with me?”

You would have jumped at the offer one month ago and done your best to keep him around as long as possible, especially when he’s the best you’ve seen him in a long while — but he’s supposed to be a stranger to you now, an ex. You have tried to move on already, it’s such a betrayal to your overworked heart that the desire to bask in his presence is still strong as ever. 

“Hey, um.” Ever so slightly hiding behind the frame of the door, you watch as his face falls, your hesitance telling everything you can’t put into words out loud. “It’s too late for dinner.”

It comes out weird from your mouth, maybe you should have worded it differently — it feels like it’s not dinner you’re talking about, and him staring with a wrinkled line between his eyebrows as if he’s trying to control his countenance isn’t helping. 

“Should seriously focus on trying to break old habits,” he chuckles hesitantly, a voice crack towards the end of the sentence, and you have to break eye contact. “I forget my normal isn’t normal sometimes. I’m sorry.” 

You fold. 

Not because it’s what you always do, but to get whatever he wants out of the way and get him out of your life as abruptly as he decided to randomly come back today. You want this to be over already. “I’m making an exception for tonight, okay? You can’t come here like this anymore, Leon. Please understand.”

Leon's hopeful expectation slowly fades, replaced by a disappointed understanding. His eyes, once filled with a vibrant light, now dim slightly, and the confident aura that surrounded him wavers for a moment. He takes a deep breath, as if trying to steady himself, before nodding slowly.

"I see," he says, carrying a tinge of sadness, you kick yourself inwardly for wanting to reach out and comfort him. "I didn't mean to intrude. I just... I wanted to see you again… To—to explain, I mean."

His words catch your attention, curiosity sparking a small candle light within you. Despite the whirlwind of emotions and confusion, you find yourself opening the door wider, gesturing for him to step inside.The way he visibly relaxes, shoulders deflating and the flash of an involuntary relieved, tiny smile on his face before he follows you inside makes your chest contract in endearment. 

This is a grown man you decided to let go. This grown man walked out on you. This grown man made you lose years of your life. This grown man doesn’t need your protection, you shouldn’t want to hide him in your ribcage, you’d be taking in a fish instead of a bird. 

The aroma of the take-out food fills the room, teasing your senses and reminding you of all the shared meals and late-night conversations you used to have. Memories flood your mind, threatening to break down the walls you had carefully built to protect yourself.

God, it hurts. He brought your favorite that he doesn’t like all that much. 

You go ahead and settle at the dining table, the take-out boxes placed between you and where he usually sits — where he used to sit whenever he came over, your base instinct embarrasses you. And as you open the containers, you look back to see what’s taking him so long or if he’s left to wash his hands, and notice that he’s just standing there in the hall, engulfed by the shadows, looking alert in the direction of the living room. You can’t see his face. 

“Is everything alright?” you ask, weirded out by how tense he is suddenly. 

He turns to you, and the kitchen light reflects strongly in contrast from his eyes precisely because he stands in the dark, like some cat. “It… smells.”

“What?” You walk over to him, mortified, trying to pick up what he’s talking about. “Is it the floor cleaner? I changed it to lavender recently. What, you don’t like it?”

“No, you… You—” He takes a few slow steps away from you as if you said something hurtful to him, awe and betrayal taking over his features. 

“Leon,” you try to reach out, confused. 

He’s looking you up and down, the weird shock he went through transitioning into perturbance. “Who is it?”

“What are you talking about—?”

“There is someone else?” He points towards the living with his chin, a look of devastation twisting his forlorn features, arms basically flattened to his side. “You brought them here and— and—”

An icy wave of chills wash over your body. “How do you know that?”

“Because it smells.” He brings a hand up and puts it on his middle as if it’s hurting, alternating between rubbing his nose and down to his chest again, like he doesn’t know what to do with his body. “Shit.”

Leon's reaction takes you aback, his sudden accusations leaving you bewildered. This is the most ridiculous thing you ever heard, what is he, an animal?  “Smells? You smelled him?”

You can’t fathom how he could have possibly known about someone else in your life, let alone the details of their presence in your home.

He gestures with his hand and slaps it back to his side, pressing his lips into a thin line before speaking. “Wonderful.” 

Never in a million years would you have expected to see Leon get bothered by another person in your life. He just isn’t the type to react, this has happened before because of course you tried him, to see if he’d get jealous the way you did — he didn’t, something about you having the right to be with anyone you want and that he can’t stop you. This was early into your ‘arrangement’ — where the line was blurred between hanging out and sleeping together, and you were naive enough to bring the scattered, floating letters between him and you together to define the word. 

This right here has to be about something else, bitterness maybe, that you could move on from him. It gets you worked up, blood slowly heating up. “I don’t have to explain myself to you. We’re not anything, Leon. Not anymore.”

Leon's gaze hardens, and for a moment, it seems like the fragility of hurt and anger flashes and trickles in. He sharply inhales, his chest rising and falling as he tries to steady himself. "I know we're not anything." He flexes his jaw, turning his face to the side in self-inflicted disappointment. "And I’m the reason, that’s on me. But damn, it’s only been a month and I’ve been miserable while you—"

You take a step closer, looking to find the middle ground in all of this. "While I’m just going about my life.” Confusion swirls in your mind as you struggle to comprehend Leon's reaction.You hadn't anticipated such a visceral response from him. You don’t know why the next second you’re trying to smooth things over to spare him, there’s no need. But you still are doing it anyway. “And he and I are friends—"

He tilts his head, something entirely cold and hostile under unreactive stoicism squares his shoulders, it’s that perpetually uninviting face of his that scares everybody off. His nostrils flare, but his voice is low and smooth. “Friends that fuck on the couch?”

“How did you—” It’s the cold chills again. “This is getting weird. How can you know that?”

Leon's eyes narrow, and the tension in the room becomes almost palpable, your nervousness almost makes it like the blue of his irises are brighter. He drops to a low, dangerous tone, but he isn’t doing anything to be threatening, so why?—. “It’s dangerous, you know? Letting unknown guys into your home. Who knows what they have in mind? What they want to do to you?”

“Sex, Leon,” you bite back, a bull to red into your apprehension, thinking why in the hell should you be intimidated when he’s being the weird one, you still have to hear about how he knows about your relations. “We had sex. Don’t be dramatic.” 

He laughs in a way you’ve never seen before, and suddenly it’s making sense why you felt like something was wrong when you opened the door to him. Maybe he’s drunk on something different today and it’s influencing him. Different liquors have different attitudes. 

“I, on the other hand, have to still hear about how you know. Have you been spying on me?”

“I apparently should have.” 

“Excuse me?” You shake your head, trying to rationalize the situation where he is practically lacking, lost in his own head, his usual personality is currently unavailable to the call for reasons unbeknownst to you. He is a calm guy. Reasonable. You don’t get where this immaturity is coming from, anger-related or not. “Leon, you can’t just go ahead and talk lightly of invading my privacy! I don’t want to joke around right now!”

You should send him away to talk later, or both of your hearts are going to break ugly tonight.

Leon's gaze doesn't waver, his eyes narrowing with a mix of concealed pain and anger. "No, I wasn't spying on you," he retorts sharply, giving you the information you want to know. "But it's hard to miss when the person you care about moves on so quickly."

So he must have seen something? He came back from Spain earlier than you thought? Was this visit about interrogating you all along? 

You hate the way your hands warm up immediately with his admittance to caring about you, even though he will never outright say that he likes you or anything more. It’s unbelievable that’s what your heart decided to pick up on instead of literally anything else right now. 

The hall feels suffocating. It's as if the air itself has turned tar-thick. You take a step back, and escape into the kitchen, trying to gather your thoughts amidst the rising storm of confusion.

“I thought you wanted this. Why would me moving forward be a problem?”

“Because I can’t.” 

You want to yell at him. Why should that be your problem? He wanted this. You prepared yourself because he was perpetually with a suitcase in his hand, so much so you can’t imagine his visage otherwise.

Be calm about this. You’re a grown adult. 

"I don’t understand.” Hands grabbing at the handles of a chair, you spare a glance at him over your shoulder. "I thought we would give each other space, go our own ways."

A bitter laugh escapes Leon's lips, devoid of any humor. "Space? That's just another word for running away, isn't it? And haven’t you immediately found someone else to run towards? That’s how important I was to you, huh?"

The accusation stings, and you struggle to find the right words to defend yourself, his honesty coercing the affection out of you within the ice of self-preservation. "Leon, it's not like that. I’m trying to navigate my life, this isn’t me trying to get back at you or hurt you."

He runs a hand through his hair, frustration carved into every line of his face. "Well, congratulations. You succeeded anyway."

This is getting ridiculous. You don’t know how to handle the situation because he never put you in one like it in the first place. 

How are you the guilty one? How is the blame on you, now? Why? Being with him was slow torture, loving him was a doomed gambit, and now he has the gall to make you into the bad guy — for what, prioritizing yourself for once? 

The silence hangs heavily between you, punctuated only by the distant sounds of the city outside. It feels as though the foundations of your bond are crumbling beneath the weight of unresolved emotions, the connection you once shared now seems fragile, teetering on the edge of irreparable damage that you’re not sure you want to let go even though it really is the best solution to let it be. You remember how you told him that break-ups don’t always have to end in fights, it seems how the afterward would be like hasn’t crossed your mind at all. 

“Ironic of you to say that,” you mumble, turning away from him with a disbelieving smile, hands on your hips. 

“What?”

“I said,” you turn around, cold anger freezing your features in a silent mask. “That’s rich coming from you. Running away, I mean. All this time I’ve known you, you’ve run away from me—” With each example you give, you take one slow step towards him. “From intimacy, from a deeper connection. I know you couldn’t help but be away for your job and that’s not the issue here.” You stop right in front of him, seething, looking up, doing your best to keep your shit together as you shake a finger at him. “But you don’t have the right to accuse me of running away.” 

He just stands there like a statue. Doesn’t move. Doesn’t look away. As if this means nothing at all to him, forever the unaffected, desensitized man that he is. You have to flatten your lips to keep them from quivering.

“I’ve had to chase you like some race horse while you were sitting right next to me,” you jab that finger into his chest, not to get something out of him, but because the floodgates were finally open. “I have betted on losing dogs this entire relationship.” Another jab. “I let you treat me like a doormat.” Jab. “I gave you the patience and understanding some mothers wouldn’t give to their children—” And it finally ends with a slap with the back of your hand on his wall of a chest. “Because god smite me I made the mistake of falling in love—” A fucking joyful, pretty sparkle in his eyes that has his eyebrows lifting. It bloods your boil like nothing else. “—-and all of this for you to come into my home and pick a fight over who I fuck after breaking up with me?” You push him — or, rather, try to push him further back into the hall, and when it doesn’t work, raise your arm to point to the door. “Get out.”

Leon's jaw tightens as he stares at you and you see it jump, his gaze piercing through you, ablaze. He tries to grab you by the elbows but you shake him off. “Sweet girl, I—”

The nickname has you on the edge of crumbling and you ricochet back as if burned. “No, nuh-uh,” you rapidly shake your head and one hand at him, eyes burning, deliberately looking at his shoulder not to make eye contact. “You don’t get to call me that anymore. No. Just go. Get out of my house.”

The room plummets into an agonizing quietness filled by the heavy breathing you’re doing your best to stop from shaking as Leon stands there, his hand still lingering, frozen in a futile attempt to reach out to you standing in the light of the kitchen, and him in the shadows. The absoluteness of your words is the hammer of a judge about to fall on his head, sharpened by your anger and the shattered remnants of your flightless hopes. 

You never wanted this. It had ended so peacefully, why was he back as a vengeful ghost bringing the worst out of you — why now? Why?

Finally, Leon lowers his hand, his gaze falling to the floor. There's a momentary lowering of his guard that flickers across his face, a crack in the armor he usually wears. "I know I messed up, and I've been running away. But it's not because I don't care, it's because... I'm — I couldn’t give you anything. Not anything you deserved. Not everything I wanted. And I couldn’t face any of that without having to confront I needed to get out of your life," he says softly, caked with remorse and self-hatred. “Like being somewhere between life and death, I didn’t know what to do, how to move forward.”

His words hit you like a punch to the gut, and you feel your anger momentarily waver, you’ve seen the pain in his eyes before, the demons that haunt him from his past — you understand, you understand. In every reality possible, you’d understand, even when you don’t know. “I know, Leon.” The acknowledgment leaves you pained, but this time, don’t give anything in consolation, don’t justify the harmful outcomes of his escapism just so he wouldn’t be scared and pull himself back. Yes, you know. But that’s it. It has to be enough.  

“I want you to also know — I’m not that man anymore.” He takes a step closer, his hand reaching out tentatively, but you flinch away, unwilling to let him touch you, and he stands right at the threshold of shadows bleeding away into the light streaming from the room behind you. 

"Are you seriously about to tell me you changed, Leon? Really? No, I know you," you assert, your voice tinged with skepticism and a lick of frustration. Folding your arms across your chest, you wait for his response, your gaze fixed on him, brows furrowing but a slight smile souring your lips. “But I’ll humor you. Tell me, what could have possibly happened in such a short amount of time, because I’m not having it if it’s about us separating—” It’s mean, the way you outright grin at him, one small part of you regrets laughing at his face when he’s declaring he’s changed, but you can’t stop the poison from wanting to sink into his skin, from wanting to see yourself affecting him. “You, my late blooming pupa, had two whole years to break out of your cocoon. Don’t even waste your breath.”

Leon meets you head on, unfazed by your demeanor, it makes you feel like a child when you were in the right, brings sense to you that this was Leon you were trying to hurt, you knew he wouldn’t give you excuses some man after some piece of ass would — the hurt is bringing the girl out of you that wants to maim as she has been maimed, and he just stands there and takes it as if he wants to show you he’s had way worse before. It isn’t fair.

He takes a moment to steady himself, his hand unconsciously fidgeting with the edge of his jacket as he prepares to explain, raising his hands up and tracing the invisible line of the veins inside his wrist. His body language conveys a distant sense of sincerity. 

"I received a gift that opened my eyes," he confesses, his voice carrying a brooding, yet grateful significance. His eyes momentarily drift, as if lost in memories of what transpired. His fingers continue to rub along the veins, he’s recalling something, it’s not a self-soothing nervous habit that betrays his inner turmoil.

Your skepticism wavers, switched with a curious glimmer. The lamb sees the slaughterhouse and thinks it’s home again. You unfold your arms, inching closer as you invite him to elaborate. 

"It saved me. Gave me a new life. Changed me.” He pauses, looking far, far away again. “It changed everything," Leon states with a sense of conviction. He stands a little taller, his demeanor transformed by the profound impact of this revelation.

Your eyes flit in rapid blinking, captivated by his warm, honest intensity. A welcoming, pleasant surprise lingers on your face as you take in the magnitude of what he's sharing.

"Changed everything?" you question, holding back your wonder and uncertainty in fear of disappointment. Your body involuntarily leans forward, drawn in by where he’s taking this.

"Yeah. For good this time. Because I’m not… bound anymore, I’m not trapped. For the first time in forever, I know what it’s like to be truly free.” 

“Oh…” You begin to speak, but words escape you. He is uninhibited, truly elated, that soft smile on his face doesn’t carry the anxiety of what comes next. This is a first for Leon Kennedy. When you remember you mocked what might have happened to him, it fills you with shame. So, something truly wonderful did happen — could happen. It has to do with his job, that much you know. No wonder he’s insisting things have changed, what he does for a living is what haunts him like a shadow, after all, you couldn’t be more aware of that. “I’m… I’m happy for you, then, Leon. I don’t know what to say.”

“You’re not wrong for doubting me. I did.” He looks down at his arms, clenching and unclenching his fists. “I believed I had changed before, you know — had been changed, whatever you wanna call it... Because I had to," Leon admits with introspection. He pauses, searching for the right words to convey the depth of his experience. 

"Then someone I know told me no, you haven't, you just think you have. And both of those options are worse than each other in retrospect, don't get me wrong,” his voice cracks slightly, revealing the conflict within him. There's a flicker of nostalgia and longing. 

He takes a steadying breath, his eyes locked onto yours, conveying a yearning for understanding. This is the most open he’s been with you, the most you’ve seen of him, you’re hypnotized.

"I envy who I was in 1998, but I don't want to be him. The me one month ago is superior, but he was miserable and fucking blind," Leon confesses, the air around him somehow gravitating towards him, becoming hard to breathe because of how hard he’s frowning. Self-deprecating. And his eyes are on you again, back to the moment. “You wanna know how I know I’m different now? I’ll tell you. I’ll tell you everything.”

He steps forward, into the kitchen, into the light, and shadows dance on his face, and you know what this is — the cat has decided he wants pets, seeking to butt his head into you to initiate contact, and you step backward with the sudden panic sinking in your stomach, but he keeps advancing the more you back off. 

“I’m not afraid anymore,” he rasps, and you make a small sound at the back of your throat. “Not afraid of what I want. Not afraid of wanting. Not afraid of what comes next.”

“Leon—” you interrupt, hands shooting forward, hovering just between you two, feeling his body heat, but terrified of touching him in fear of what might ignite inside you if you do. 

But he catches both your hands, intertwining your fingers and pinning them on two sides of you on the counter the moment your hips hit the lip of it, and you’re immediately steaming underneath your skin, shutting your eyes and turning your face away as his body snuggles in, flush against you. 

“It’s pathetic, the person I used to be—” he breathes, a gentle invitation, a subtle beckoning, though his words are harsh, he’s uttering them so sweetly like it’s a love letter to you, and hot wind from his words licks the side of your face, you can feel the feathery touch of his lips moving a hair’s breadth from your cheek. Your heartbeat is hammering. “He would have bitten his tongue and gone right back home to lick his wounds. Never see you again. He would think it’s what’s best for you, that he’s protecting you this way.”

You swallow, and he chases the motion, head following the movement. His nose caresses the column of your neck, the sigh that escapes his lips echoes the hidden depth of his desires, an unspoken language of pining. 

Your breath catches in your throat as Leon's increasing body heat and tantalizing weight knead and melt you like dough, his words moving you from within, his proximity creating a charged volume that crackles with tension and desire you were fighting so hard to deny. Every fiber of your being is acutely aware of his presence, his warmth pressing against you, and the raw defenselessness he's revealing. 

You missed this. You missed this. You missed this. 

The blood coursing through your veins sings to him, sings for him, and you’re alive again after one month of absolute emptiness, and hate him for doing this to you.

Love him for coming back. 

His grip on your hands tightens, and you can feel the tremor in his touch, mirroring the intensity of his emotions. “Look at me.” 

You know you don’t want to, because if you were to see him right now, what he’s showing, what he’s finally allowing you to see, you wouldn’t know how to look away ever again — don’t want to hurt.

Your own heart races in response, fear and anticipation swirling within you. And he places his knuckles on your chin, gently guiding you to face him, “Don’t look away.”

Your glazed over eyes lock with his in a moment that feels suspended in time.

"Leon..." you murmur with a blend of longing and caution. The weight of unspoken possibilities bursts in color in the air between you, begging for acknowledgment.

He nuzzles closer, his lips grazing your skin with feather-light touches. Your body reacts instinctively, a tremble washing through you as his sigh tickles your neck. It's as if the world around you fades away, leaving only the magnetic pull between you, drawing you inexorably closer. It’s sweetness so intense it’s trying to hold back the bitterness, a muzzle on a hungry dog’s jaw. 

His voice, a whisper against your ear, is temptation, a pied piper. "I don't want to make the same mistakes anymore. I can't keep denying what I truly want, what my heart desires. I can’t lose you. I’m not losing you. Not like this. Please."

The admission electrifies the mood. Time stands still as you process everything, mind foggy, your own desires intertwining with his. It's a precarious precipice you find yourselves on, teetering between the past and the mirage of a future, between fear and the possibility of something more.

“That’s awfully self-centered,” you laugh weakly, not knowing if this is you unable to look away from his lips or unable to bring yourself to meet his gaze. “What if it’s too late? What if that ship has already sailed?”

He nudges your nose with his, bringing his forehead to rest against yours. “You don’t want me? Look into my eyes when you tell me, then.”

In that moment, you make a choice. With an upsurge of courage, you do as he asks, searching his need-darkened patience waiting for you, and you let your guard down. Closing the remaining space between, your lips find his in a tender yet fervent kiss, an unspoken consent that verbalizes everything. 

God, you want this man with all your being. One moment of vulnerability, the confirmation you needed for so long from him was enough to melt all your walls down and conquer without war — the things you let him do to you… 

What was tenderness from you ricochets back from him as desperation, he licks into your mouth like a man starved, and a sigh shudders from Leon, you feel it roll through his entire body. He catches your waist in a tight, unyielding grip, his touch conveying a scared need to hold on to you, as if to make sure you're real, and not a fleeting dream. 

“Fuck, I want you so bad. Never wanted more in my goddamn life.” The pent-up tension and unspoken emotions flow between you, igniting a flame that burns brightly, dispelling any doubts or regrets. “Let me have you. Please, let me have you.”

“Give me half of you, and I’ll give you half of me.” His lips, soft and warm, melded with yours in a passionate embrace, separate with a wet pop. “How’s that for a start?”

Leon's lips attempt to dip into yours again, but he wavers to a panting stop, leaving a lingering, ticklish warmth in their wake. His declaration, filled with a mix of intoxication and determination, spills forth. “‘ll give you all of me,” he mutters, his kisses raining down upon your skin in a frenzy of affection. “—Give you all my love. Want all of yours, too.” 

Love. He said love. 

Someone must have hit you over the head, you feel like it, all breath is knocked out of your lungs.

Leon pulls back only inches when he feels you freeze in his arms, and you see it in his eyes — he doesn’t try to hide it… 

And you realize, you’ve seen the ghost of this look before, the shyer one, the more apprehensive, curt one that was prone to hiding away. The pure adoration on his face makes him look younger, like a whole other man. 

Yet, you ask. It’s all you’ve ever wanted from him, only a passing acknowledgement and you’re a sunflower bending over backwards with the first rays of the sun. "You love me?"

Your stomach does a summersault at feeling his heart miss a beat.  "Y... yes?" he stutters, his voice rising. "Yeah."

All that romantic talk. All the insane things he said, and it’s scary to him when the word is spelled out loud. 

The room goes completely noiseless for a moment, your ribcage might as well explode at this point, and then he lets out an audible sigh, trying to calm himself down. "Is that so strange to you?" he adds. "Is that... something you... don't want?"

He knows what you feel. Known it all along, danced around it for both your sakes. Yet, he’s still asking — exposing that defenseless underbelly of his that reveals he thinks he’s unlovable, not worth it, skeptic that someone could want him in that way. 

His eyes stay locked with yours, but some of his confidence seems to have drained away. All that's left is his look of pure, unbridled infatuation, and the expression of genuine, unwavering honesty.

Your mouth seems to have gone dry, heartbeat picking up, stomach swirling, looking at him like he's out of this world, eyes flying everywhere on his face. No words come to mind for a good while. It’s a slow blooming flower at first, but the beaming of your smile takes him aback. “It’s all I wanted,” you practically exhale. 

He makes a small noise of relief and chokes out a smile. 

As your lips mold together again, a new symphony of sensations unfolds. His kiss has the devotion of held-back hunger, lips seeking and exploring every contour of yours, and you surrender completely. To how he desires you, to the intoxicating pull between you, letting your inhibitions fall away. There is only the searing heat of his touch, the intoxicating sweet taste of his mouth, the mint from an already discarded gum and something uniquely Leon, and the synchronization of your combined breaths.

He moves downwards to take nip at the corner of your mouth and then your chin, a soft hum escapes from deep within you, a testament to the overwhelming pleasure he makes you feel by the littlest of sensualities.

“Leon…” Your hands find their way to his tousled hair and a waft of his shampoo fills your nose, you pull him closer, yearning for more of him. The room fills with the heady scent of desire, starting to pool deep in your stomach drop by drop.

He bites down on your jaw, knowing just how to make it pleasurable and not hurt, and you gasp out loud. “Sweet girl, my sweet girl,” he chants. His lips find their way to the sensitive skin of your neck, trailing a path of feverish kisses and gentle nips. “My sweet girl.” Each sensation sends waves of pleasure coursing through your body, leaving you rasping and yearning for more. 

You arch into him. His hands, now guided by a primal instinct, roam freely over your body. They explore every curve and dip, tracing the contours of your silhouette as if committing every inch to memory. Fingers dance along your spine, leaving a trail of delicious shivers in their wake, before finding solace in the small of your back. 

With a firm yet gentle grip, he lifts you effortlessly, placing you on the counter, the cool surface contrasts with the scorching heat that burns even your palms up as he slots between your legs immediately afterwards. 

With a delicate yet possessive grip, his hands glide along your upper thighs, and a needy warmth trickles down to the crevice he grinds his crotch against, the roughness of his jeans delectable against where you need him. 

Your own hands, emboldened, mirror his actions, eagerly exploring the planes of his chest, nails dragging through the fabric. Overwrought fingers interchange between pulling on his leather jacket and the compression shirt that hugs him so tight it won't stretch. “Get this off."

A low growl reverberates deep in Leon's chest as your hands keep hungrily tugging at his clothing, seeking to peel away the layers that separate you. “In the kitchen? That impatient for me?” 

Ah, he’s trying to embarrass you. Not going to work. “Shut up you hypocrite, you made me come on your thigh in broad daylight, in the kitchen.”

“I don’t remember you complaining,” he grins against your lips, and you feel him grow bigger, straining against the cage of his jeans. “God, you were so fucking hot using me like that. Want to see you more — pleasure yourself more — in front of me. I was about to make a mess of my pants like some teenager, just looking at you and,” he rocks both of you upwards as he babbles, and your hands glide down to cradle his flaming neck, your eyes closing, head spinning with his words. “Your pussy on me, shit. I still feel it.”

“Stop running your mouth and get these off then,” you half-heartedly order, not at all an attempt to hide how turned on you are and practically dying to feel him already. 

He opts to tease, “What the lady wants, the lady gets,” like he’s only doing it because you asked him to, but he willingly complies, his movements hinting to be fueled by a shared hunger and a desire to feel your touch against his bare skin.

The leather jacket slides off his shoulders, revealing the sculpted contours of his chest, accentuated by the tight shirt that clings to him. And in one motion, that’s also off, you don’t even get to watch how his muscles ripple and flex, but your hands are on him right after, groaning at just how high his body temperature is, how wildly his heart is beating underneath your palm.

Your mind short-circuits at something foreign wiggling underneath your palms on his chest and not at the way he’s sucking red flowers on the underside of your thrown back chin. 

Your mind can be playing tricks on you, because you swear you can feel something move underneath his skin that’s not tendons, but before you can dwell on it, his lips, now free from their exploration of your neck, capture yours once more in a searing kiss, filled with a soulful need, an unspoken plea for more, as if he wants to consume every ounce of you. 

“Can’t believe kissing alone feels this good,” he says. “I could just do this all day. Have you on my lap, underneath me, above me, and just.” Your lips are teasingly bitten and tugged on. “Have this to myself.”

As his hands continue their tantalizing journey along your thighs, inching higher, you find yourself surrendering to the exquisite sensations. Your legs instinctively wrap around his waist, pulling him closer, craving more friction as the restlessness grows tighter. 

The hardness of his crotch presses against the heat between your legs, creating a delicious ache that demands to be satisfied. He hisses and sighs into your mouth. “Fuck, I can’t wait. Hold on to me.” 

Leon has his arms locked tight around your legs clamped on his legs the next second, and begins to carry you out the kitchen as you hold onto his shoulders, once again in awe of how easy it is for him to manhandle you like this without at least grunting. 

You think he’s taking you to your bedroom and worrying if you left it too messy, but where you find yourself sprawled on your back instead, is the fucking couch in your living. 

The couch your one night stand had his way with you on. 

You sense a subtle shift in the currents of his shadowy gaze bearing down on you, in the flicker of his eyes, in the tightening of his jaw, that you glimpse a revelation you have not anticipated hidden beneath layers of charm and composure, the shifting of tectonic plates beneath calm waters. It’s uncharted territory. A dormant beast awoken from slumber, his demeanor betrays an unfamiliar greedy intensity that enthralls you. Once soft, subtle adoring nature of his, now holds a smidge of territorial longing, as if he yearned to claim you as his own, to wrap you in the cocoon of his desires, the undercurrent untamed, raw, unfamiliar — both to you and him. You’re no stranger to his intensity, his passion, but this is foreign to you. 

With surprised anticipation, you laugh to hide the nervousness. “I didn’t know you could be jealous.”

“I didn’t know I was capable of it either.” His big palm comes down on your stomach, fingers fanned out, and it drifts up as if he’s just taking you in, with some pressure sinking into you, and your shirt rides up because of it, exposing your stomach all the way to the beginnings of your lower ribs. “Of this much need to monopolize.” 

He hooks a strong arm around your waist and tugs you a bit up to meet his descending mouth to your revealed abdomen, leaving wet kisses and kitten bites all over, teasing by faking you out that he’ll go higher to play with your aching breasts, the tip of his nose touching the bottom curve of one and then going lower. Either way, it’s your loss, heat keeps pooling in the ever-so-hungry pit as your panties become uncomfortable already. He knows how to build you up.  “It’s so ugly in my head right now because of this goddamn smell—and all I think is what I’m looking at right now was seen by another man. Wanna fucking tear into you to get rid of it.”

You quip, “Does he smell that bad?” amused, an attempt to distract yourself from how easy he has you, hands finding his hair again and tugging, eliciting muffled groans from Leon, but the promise of roughness thrills you, the shiver going through you perking your nipples up. You honestly didn’t know he had this much of a sensitive nose up until today, goes to show how little of himself he showed you in the past. 

“He reeks.” He drags his blunt nails through the line of your waist soothing it with feathery, tickling, lazy strokes of faint pleasuring zaps as he bucks into your clothed core, drawing hisses and gasps from both of you. The rough zipper line of his jeans accentuated by his hardness hits just the right spot, you could do this forever — gosh, you have a wet spot in your panties, it feels gross but it’s so warm and it’s so good — 

Oh you love the way his eyes darken, the way his voice deepens ever so slightly when things you never thought would come from him in a million years are sent your way, goosebumps awaken all over you at the, god, you can’t believe you’re saying possessiveness. “We could, you know, get it reupholstered. If you’re paying for it—” 

“I have a better idea,” A devilish smirk curls at the corners of Leon's lips as he lifts his head from your abdomen, eyes glinting. His grip on your waist shifts to the waistband of your pants, teasingly tracing the edge. “How about instead I reclaim it so you won’t be able to sit on it ever again without getting so hot and bothered by what I did to you here. Hm?”

His touch sends invigorating currents coursing through your body, pooling desire between your thighs. You arch your back, wordlessly urging him to continue. and he kneads your hips, digging into your flesh with a delicious pressure. “I’ll make my sweet girl so fucked out stupid she forgets any touch that came before me.” He squeezes once and your cunt just throbs. “Only remembers my name.”

Fucking hell. 

"But if it bothers her, I'll consider reupholstering," he continues, a hint of playfulness there. "She’ll just have to pay in other ways."

A mischievous gleam dances in your eyes as you match his playful banter. "Oh, I have a feeling I can think of a few ways to make it worth your while," you purr, your fingers still tangled in his strands, urging him to bring his lips back to yours.

“That right?” Leon's chuckle reverberates through his chest, vibrating against your skin. He leaves a trail of heat and moisture on your stomach as he climbs up, capturing your mouth in a hungry kiss, his tongue exploring the depths of your mouth with a fervor matched only by his growing desire.

His heat washes over you, and your breath hitches as you struggle to control the rising tide of need, and you can’t stop the small whine from escaping when he tempts. “How would she like it?” with hooded eyes, you see him imagining — thinking, living the filth out in his brain and not hiding it from you at all. The thought of being completely consumed by him, of surrendering to his desires, sends a torrent of suspense coursing through your veins.

With deliberate slowness, his fingers dip beneath the waistband of your pants, grazing over the sensitive skin of your lower abdomen, and you nod fervently, wanting Leon to stop with the leisurely approach and just fucking throw you around or bury his fingers into your pussy already — “Use your words sweet girl.” He chuckles when he sees the delicately restrained agitation of yours, his touch is both gentle and possessive, his fingertips tracing maddening circles that dangle you over promised pleasure.

His piercing stare ensnares you, a captivating force that renders you powerless. His inquiry lingers, emphasized by his almost restlessly eager fingers massaging your skin, akin to a tantalizing vow of sensual delight. In this very instant, a revelation dawns upon you—Leon's unchained greed does not arise from insecurity alone; rather, they stem from an unquenchable thirst to know you’re his, to conquer every fragment of your being and eliminate any shadow of uncertainty.

In a flurry of emotions, your words spill forth, infused with a potent blend of yearning and submission. “Take me, I want you to take me. Wanna feel only you…” Succumbing to the irresistible yearning surging through your veins, you surrender yourself to the overwhelming craving that courses within you. “Any way you want.”

His jaw falls open slightly in shock, like the shape of language has left him, hold stilling around you in an iron grip — the way his cheekbones get slightly pinked gets you bucking up to him. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you smile, extending your arms at him like you’re asking for a hug. “Make me forget however you like.”

His chest expands with the big breath he sucks in, a guttural growl escaping his throat, a primal sound that makes him feel almost inhuman with another trick of the light that makes his veins appear darker, dancing, almost, as he pulls you up, leaves you dizzy with how quick he reverses your positions, it’s his back on the plush cushions now, one knee bent a little bit and you on top of him, straddling his lap. He’s looking up at you, and you flash to how you had him exactly that way before he left for Spain.

“Sit on my face.”

You blink a couple times. “What?”

His fingers catch the band of your pants and underwear. “I want you to ride my face.” The small grin that breaks out on his face after licking his lips is downright sinful. “Wanna be fucking suffocated by you.”

“Will you be alright—”

“It’s nothing to me,” The persuasion is nonchalant, like he has experience being waterboarded and it’s something trivial. “I said I’d make you remember me whenever you sit on this couch, didn’t I?” 

His request is bold, ramming the boundaries of your comfort zone, there’s the fear of crushing him and there’s the embarrassment of how he’d receive your weight, yet overcome by the part of you that craves to fulfill his desires, overtaken by how he always wants to give pleasure and not take it. 

You slowly rise from his lap, and he momentarily releases you from his hold. Your hands tremble slightly as you reach for the waistband of your pants, undoing them and sliding them down your legs, along with your underwear, his dilated pupils are fixated on the silvery thread of your arousal stretching. Your heartbeat quickens, a flush heating your body up at the deep assertion of, “Attagirl. Come here.”

With a deep sigh, you find the courage to surrender to the experience, encouraged by how much he seems to want this. You shift your position, allowing him to steer you to straddle his face, your knees sinking into the soft cushions on either side of his head. Your core hovers tantalizingly close to his waiting mouth, aching for the pleasure he promises to deliver. 

Not knowing when his hand sneakily crawled between your legs, you are caught by surprise when he drags a finger through your slit, gathering the moisture and spreading it around. “This all for me?”

“Hmmm,” you confirm, heartbeat shooting straight downwards, pulsing against his finger. “All for you.”

“Don’t be shy, take a seat,” A deep rumble vibrates in his chest, he’s looking drunk already, and you twitch upwards with the way hits your wetness, then, he’s massaging the tension of your thighs holding your body up. “All of your weight, sweet girl. Don’t hold back. Just sit. I promise I’ll make you feel so good, it’ll feel so good, just—” He raises his head to lick an galvanizing stripe right where you want him and you moan, the experience all the more elevated by being able to see how his eyes flutter close as if he’s feeling in and the focused pinch of his eyebrows. 

Trembling legs weakened by his begging, you begin to lower yourself onto him, the searing, wet warmth of his breath against your sensitive, aching folds making you gasp. His hands guide you and you hold onto his bulging biceps, his touch firm yet gentle as he helps you find the perfect angle, anchoring you in place. 

“Le – ah! Leo—n!” You can’t even arch off from the couch when his mouth dives into your tender cunt, only able to throw your head back and tremor in place because he has you in an iron grip against him, fingers sinking into the plush of your hips the moment he hears the stutter of your sweet whining. 

He hums, and you feel the vibrations reverberate inside you, mouth hanging open when his tongue delves in, as well. 

“So good — shit…” You fall forward, hands finding purchase on the armrest of the couch, your nails digging into the fabric as his skilled tongue dances against your most sensitive parts, exploring and teasing with an expertise that leaves you respiring, a particularly shocking jolt of ache striking and leaving your vision with dancing stars when he gently nips at your clit with his teeth, your hips spasming, but unable to even squirm in peace because he won’t let you move away from him. “That! That — ah, yes, yes!”

He is just delighted and it shows in his excited panting when it gets you to start rocking your hips in sync with him, and after a while, falling back and letting you take control of the pace. 

He traces delicate patterns against your most intimate parts, setting a pattern and then breaking it, building you up and pulling you back down, teasing and exploring with a fervent hunger. “That’s perfect — yes, Leon, you’re making me feel so good, you’re — hmm! —”

The groaning moan is swallowed by an even prettier whine when you pull on his hair, it wasn’t the intention to get him to do this, you were just particularly feeling good, but you try again, and he shudders this time, a more restrained version of the sound, you swear, literally makes you gush. 

“You sound — you sound so pretty moaning from making me feel good— So pretty—” You can’ complete the sentence as he sucks on your clit, only able to babble. “So pretty, so pretty…!”

You absolutely weren't expecting being accidentally called pretty would be the final straw to start palming himself against his jeans and fucking dry hump his hand, leaving only one hand to hold you down, and he wraps his entire arm around your waist to staple you to his mouth, you feel the veins and the flexing muscles on your skin from how much strength he’s using, and it’s enough to heighten the throb in your cunt.. 

“You’re gonna come in your pants from eating me out?” The bucking of your hips becomes harsher, faster, the coil in your stomach tightening just from seeing his blissful mien and urgency of his hip thrusts, walls contracting around his tongue. “That’s so fucking sexy—”

The pleasure builds, spiraling higher and higher, each flick of his tongue sending you higher and higher, his ability to read just when you get close is exquisite, and you enjoy him slowing you down, each flick and swirl of his tongue pushing you closer to the edge of ecstasy, but not quite getting you there, his own hand matching that pace and edging himself on, as well. 

The world narrows down to the sensations between your legs, the sound of your own moans building in speed and pitch mingling with his fervency, a blast of heat building deep within you unexpectedly fast, like dropping from the peak of a roller coaster, a wildfire spreading. “So close, so close, so close so closesoclose!”

You cry out his name as your pleasure crescendos, he holds your gaze the entire time through it, an explosion of sensation that engulfs you in waves of ecstasy, your voice mingling with his muffled groans of satisfaction against your sensitive flesh, body oscillating with pleasure, every nerve ending electrified by the intoxicating completion Leon provides — and he laps everything up, 

He does not give you one single break. 

The next second, you’re knocked on your back, and then flipped on your stomach like a ragdoll, and he shoves you up toward the other armrest of the couch until you have to hold onto it and hold yourself up — and you have to, from how much your thighs are trembling. You don’t even have the time to look back after hearing the frantic fumbling of his zipper being pulled down before feeling his rock-hard length gliding through your puffed and abused cunt, and a pained whine shakes your body as you snap your knees shut. “Leon—Leon—I can’t—”

“You can,” he coats himself in your dripping wetness, and you’ve accidentally created more friction for him by snapping your legs together, he’s just dragging himself against you, not entering, but pushing strong enough that it gets you to shake and squirm to get away, but he hooks one arm across your torso and grips your shoulder, pulling you up so your back is flush against his sweaty, burning chest. He extends an arm and places his hand just beside yours for support. “You’re so perfect taking everything I give you. My sweet girl, always so good to me, so gorgeous — just look at you.”

He gently nudges your chin up to get you to look at something, and —

You are looking straight at the reflection of yourself in the window ahead, Leon’s chin on your other shoulder, he is also staring, watching you there — both of you look so fucked out already. 

He seems to be in a more of a drunken daze than you are, his hair is so sexily messed up as if it was deliberately styled, the fact that it was you has you clenching around nothing. You hiss when the head of his cock slips in momentarily, only to slip out as he keeps the motion of sliding back and forth,  teasing, edging, your moans become softer, yelp-ushered, and shorter.  

“Look how pretty you are,” he nips at your earlobe, looking straight into your eyes in the window. You see the raw desire etched across your face, the sheen of sweat glistening on your skin, and the unbridled lust that courses through your veins — the sight of yourself, lost in the throes of passion, sends a rush of arousal through you. 

He begins to bite and suckle at your neck and shoulder as the edging persists, the tension within you, yet again, beginning to stretch beyond belief without a snap at horizon, your whole body is quivering at how fast it’s coming down on you. 

“I’m gonna— Leo–n, please, please—!”

You’re teetering on the edge of ruin, the need for release becoming all-consuming. You cling to his well-built, thick arm holding you to his chest, seeking an anchor amidst the overwhelming pleasure. A particularly sharp bite at the most meaty part of your shoulder makes you cry out and he begins mumbling in your ear, needy, and keeps up the same pace just for your pleasure even though he sounds so needy. “Come for me, I want it, pretty girl, come on, give it to me—” 

With a final plunge, Leon relinquishes the tease and thrusts deep inside you, filling you completely to the hilt, and your vision goes completely white as pleasure crashes over you in a wave of intensity, your body attempting to thrash around with the force of your orgasm, his chest shudders at your strangled cry. 

He stays buried deep within your convulsing walls and just breathes and softly hisses as you come down from your high, following you as you fall forward to rest your head on your forearms on the armrest. 

He plants kisses on the ball of your shoulder, trailing a line all the way to the other one, and then coming back to your nape. “You okay?”

You whine in response, completely blissed, and feel him jump inside you.

He sighs with force. “Don’t rile me up like that just yet.”

“‘m not doin’ ‘nything…”

“You don’t know what you do to me.” His chest rumbles from how thick and deep his voice lowers, albeit in affection. “You could be watering flowers or something and I’d go out of my mind for you.”

You weakly sputter in laughter, heart expanding nonetheless. “Watering flowers?”

“Yeah, I mean—”

“Couldn’t you have chosen something mundanely and unconsciously sexy. Like, I don’t know, sitting and reading a book?”

He scoffs, but you can tell he’s tiredly endeared. “Reading is sexy to you?”

“Well. You squint your eyes and clearly need glasses but the concentration is definitely hot.”

“I don’t need glasses.”

“You do. Leon, baby, you squint when you’re trying to read—”

“Maybe because I’m trying to understand what I read—”

“You don’t understand anything you read, then? Because you do it all the time.”

“That’s ridiculous, I’ve never had a problem with my vision.”

“Uh-huh. Yeah, sure, dumb jock of mine.”

He responds with one singular fast and shallow thrust, testing the waters, lips curling up against your shoulder at the sweet sound rising from you. “You must have gotten the rest you needed if you’re sassing me.” 

“Fuck—” you hiss at the stretch, so delicious, stings so good. “Leon, can we just—”

“No,” He presses you forward, squishing you, and one of your hands digs into the armrest and the other one on his forearm that lines like a special pillow just for you to bury your head in. Your teary eyes accuse him in the window, your mind playing tricks on you again and makes it seem like they flash a deep red at you like some demon in your imagination. “Eyes on the window, watch me.”

He starts torturously slow, setting a lazy ebb and flow, the tip of his cock aimed to hit your G-spot every time he inches into you, his fingers are curled underneath your chin and still making you watch, but you can only look at how feral he is marking your neck like he’s some vampire, sucking and popping noises spreading around your body in ripples, and behind your tears, you can see the red eyes still on yours.   

“Faster,” you sob, feeling like you’re about to pass out from yet another building orgasm but know ultimately that’s not going to happen and it’s just how well he wrecks you. 

He moans obscenely into your ear, completing that with a delighted hiss as your nails mark his forearm laced with defined veins. “Gonna come for me again, huh? How many minutes has it been, and you’re gushing already? Are you just that perverted or is it me?”

“Yes, you, it’s you.” You throw your head back and rest it on his shoulder, and he lowers the fingers on your chin to hold you by the throat against him, putting slight pressure with at the two sides of your neck — not cutting your airway, but the blood flow to your brain, plunging you into cloud-soft, pleasure-fueled fuzziness.

“Inside?” he asks for permission, strained. His thrusts pick up, not shallow, but brutal all the way, and so do your whimpers. “Can I—” 

You can imagine the sensation of the warmth of him spilling into you. You’re so thankful for actively looking for hook-ups before this and getting on birth control for it. “Yeah, inside, come inside me—”

He bites down again, it has to be a new favorite thing for him, and he reaches down to circle your clit, pressing and playing, gentle and then sharp. 

You feel a familiar fullness growing, and clench yourself up, it makes Leon hiss. “Bathroom—” you choke, panicked. “We have to stop, I have to—”

He doubles the finger on your clit and you squeak, squeezing your thighs together — something’s coming and he keeps hitting that spot over and over and over again — you’re going to fucking wet yourself — “Leon, I’m serious, I’m gonna—”

“It’s not what you think it is,” he says, reassuring, caring, peppering kisses everywhere.

How is he so sure! 

“No, no, I can’t— Leon, Leon, Leon, Leon!”

Third time, third time it’s something else, you can’t, you can’t—

“You can.” He grunts, smothering your squirming by his weight. “Go ahead sweet girl, just like that. You’re doing wonderful, I got you. Let it go. Let it come.”

You hear the brief spray of something, the trickle of liquid between your thighs and the intermittent whining of his as he comes inside, but you swear you fucking pass out for a good fifteen seconds from how the coil of pleasure detonates in your core and shatters your consciousness in a foggy haze.

You fucking squirted. 

Didn’t even know you could do that. 

He made you because he was jealous.   

“Asshole,” you cry-mumble, trembling like a leaf. “My couch.”

He just laughs. His eyes are still glowing red in the window’s reflection. 

You’re too sleepy for this.

You’re dreaming that you’re Leon. 

It’s a weird nightmarish vision bleeding pulsating black at the edges probably fueled by imagining him as a mean demon ravishing you yesterday. 

One moment you’re looking down at yourself suffering in your sleep at the backseat of a car, head resting on his lap, some blond man even buffer than Leon is driving the car, you can see the outline of a scar at the side of his face and you call him Major Krauser; and the other you’re intensely gazing at yourself in the bathroom mirror, eyes are still red, but this time, there are dark veins mapping all over your body, all over your face, and they’re pulling back and moving.

You startle awake to an unfamiliar bedroom, a dull ache in your chest, weak and absolutely sick to your stomach that it feels like your guts are restlessly moving around. 

“The hell?” Just where are you right now? This isn’t your home. “Leon? Leon!”

Soft, muted hues adorn the walls, casting a serene ambiance that envelops the room, but you’re far from calm, the tight feeling in your chest pushing up into your lungs. Gentle lighting, emanating from carefully placed fixtures, are dancing upon the surfaces, creating a mockingly soothing ambiance with a faint scent of cleanliness, mingling with freshness.

You are on the plush bed, adorned with crisp linens and plump pillows, the centerpiece of the room, with bedside tables holding the essentials within arm's reach. Ahead is a cozy seating area with its comfortable armchairs and a snug loveseat and a work desk, strategically positioned near a well-lit window or a dedicated reading lamp. This awfully looks like a hotel room. 

He emerges from a door, and you see the glimpse of a bathroom behind him before he shuts it behind him. “Hey, you’re awake.”

The anxiety of the gap in your memory dissipates the moment you see him.

“And confused, where is this? Why don’t I remember getting here?” You grimace and prop your body to sit up, pressing the heel of your hand to where your heart is, his eyes flicker to the motion, eyebrows dropping down. 

He sits on the edge of the bed, faintly smiling, trying to hide his worry. “You were sleeping.”

You reach for the bottle of water sitting on the bedside table to your right. “And why did you feel the need to bring me somewhere while I was asleep?”

He eerily looks mysterious for a second. “You remember me talking about the gift I was given?”

“Yeah..?” 

“I’ve shared it with you.” 

“Oh-kay…” God, that water was heavenly. You weren’t aware that you were parched. “Is that why I feel sick? Did we go out last night and get blackout drunk or something, is that it?” 

“You feel sick?” You stop playing with the plastic bottle when his face hardens. “You shouldn’t be hurting, why…”

“Can we dial it back a little?” You raise your hands, remembering your priorities. “Leon, where are we? I can’t be here, I need to go to work, there is this article about the Spanish guest President Graham has dropped everything to meet with today and I need to get it out—”

“I’ve called in for you. You’re good.” 

Well. 

It was truly the right call to make given just how weird you’re feeling, just on the precipice of getting badly sick, you’re grateful he took the initiative for you but it wouldn’t have been bad to be told before he did this. The newspaper could have caused big trouble. “I would have appreciated it more if you asked me first.”

Leon looks genuinely bothered, you don’t know if it’s because you’re telling him off. “Sorry about that, I had no time before—”

“Time for what?” 

“Well…” He trails off, lost in thought. “How about I start from the beginning?”

“I’m more than happy to listen, but first, where are we? Spoilers are fine.”

A voice you don’t know abruptly cuts in and makes you jump. “Spain, sweetheart. You’re in Spain.”

Why the hell is there a stranger in your room?

“Who the hell are you?” You pull the covers up even though you’re not naked and dressed in a casual outfit you have no memory of throwing on. His presence in this room feels like a security breach because you’re in bed. “Why are you — Leon, why is—“ 

“Krauser.” Leon shoots up from his seat in urgency. “I told you to—”

What he said registers suddenly. “Spain?” You’re unbelievably alert. It’s the guy you saw in your dream, driving the car. Leon calls him the same name you heard in it, as well. “Leon, who is this, what is he talking about?”

His chest puffs up in concentrated dejection, misery engulfing him as he looks at you, mute. You ask him with your eyes to tell you the random guy in your room is kidding, but he doesn’t. 

You edge closer to the other side of the bed like you’re some scared animal. “What the fuck is going on?”

The glare he gives to the guy would have scared you shitless had it not been for the shock you’re going through. “Get out.”

This isn’t a prank. 

You finally explode, hands gripping the linens in a tight ball, heart beating a mile an hour. “Listen, I would like to be spoken to! Spain? Can you please explain it to me already!”

“Your boyfriend has given you the Las Plagas parasite, and you’re here to go through the initiation ceremony, so to speak. You’re to be presented to our Lord. Sorry, kid.” A pitying chuckle. “Should have had better taste in men.”

Huh.

Huh?

The very military-looking man, with the beret and the outfit and all, says it with the most fed up and serious intonation ever that a loud, ringing, involuntary laugh comes out from you and rings in the room, but something in your stomach hurts from the force of it, so you double down in pain, gasping. Something moves in you. “What… God, fuck, ow…”

You clutch your abdomen, the pain intensifying with each passing moment. It feels as though something is writhing inside you, twisting and contorting with a sickening energy. It’s foreign. Doesn’t belong in your body, you’re about to hyperventilate. 

Your mind struggles to process the gravity of the situation unfolding before you. Spain? Parasites? Initiation ceremony? It all sounds like a macabre nightmare, but the agony coursing through your body is alarmingly real.

You don’t know when Leon moved to get to you, but he is next to you all of a sudden, supporting you, eyes widening with concern, his earlier mysterious demeanor crumbling away. He moves swiftly, his hand reaching out to prop you. "Easy, take deep breaths, it’ll pass, I promise, I’ve got you," His voice drips with something icy as the person he’s addressing changes. “You told me that shit would take away her pain.”

Major Krauser watches the scene unfold with a mixture of detachment and sympathy. His presence is imposing in his stern countenance. "I told you it would make it easier," he interjects, gruff. "The worst of it is over. Superior species process differently than the regular one."

“Can’t we just—”

Fear grips you like a vice as you try to comprehend the magnitude of what is happening. "Why... What have you done to me?" you manage to make out, wavering with both pain and confusion.

His hands move gently, yet frantically to caress your arms in attempts to comfort you through the pain. “I saved you.”

“Oh, you are gone in the head, rookie.”  

Leon looks scary, a barely contained rage just under the surface, gripping you tighter. 

Your mind races, trying to make sense of the fragmented information you've been given. It all feels like a nightmarish delusion, an absurd reality you've been thrust into.

What’s going on? Just what’s happening right now?

Gasping for oxygen, you manage to choke out a question, desperation just beneath. "What kind of sick game is this?"

Krauser, stoic and unyielding, interrupts with a dispassionate tone, his eyes fixed on you with an unsettling intensity. "It's not a game. Lord Saddler seeks vessels, chosen ones who can carry the power of Las Plagas. You were chosen, through Leon."

You reel back, disbelieving. "Chosen? Lord Saddler? Leon, what in the world—"

Leon's gaze turns somber, regret across his face. "I made a choice, so we could be together. So you would be protected." He becomes pleading. “The world is about to change forever—”

Oh what the fuck.

You begin to cough uncontrollably, slapping a palm on your mouth, whole body wrecked by the velocity of the fit.

There’s blood when you remove your hand. 

“Oh, god,” you whimper, but the spillage of blood also marks the ebbing away of the pain, it’s gradually fading.  

“Make her drink it again. It should be fine, three days have passed.” 

Major Krauser, the enigmatic man who claimed you had been infected, remains stoic but watches your distress intently before leaving the room from another door. 

Three days. Three days? You slept for three days?

“I want to go home. I want to leave.”

Leon sighs, visibly sad. “I know, sweet girl, but I can’t let you go anywhere right now.” 

“Why!” You yank away from him, crawling to put some distance between him and you. You trust Leon, you see that he is loyal to you, but can’t stop freaking out. “Then explain it to me! What the hell is Las Plagas or whatever the hell it’s called! Just what did you do to me?”

“First, you have to know I’m — I was a government agent. I work to wipe out bioweapons, the kind in Terragrigia. That’s the basic gist of it, anyways. Spain was a mission. To save the President’s daughter.”

“What.”

Throughout the long and agonizing day, you continue to plead with Leon, hoping desperately that he will release you from your confining prison. Each time, he feigns sympathy and expresses apologies, but his determination remains unyielding. The realization that the man you love has become your captor sinks its fangs deeper into your psyche, a tormenting truth that threatens to shatter your sanity.

Moved to a more luxurious room, attended to by servants who treat you as though you were some revered figure, you feel the suffocating weight of your captivity. Leon, on the other hand, freely comes and goes, moving about with an air of authority and control here in this unknown location. 

The stark contrast between your roles within this twisted dynamic only further amplifies the madness of the situation. It becomes increasingly difficult to maintain your composure when everything around you appears normal, yet you are trapped, on the verge of losing your grip on reality.

Leon's attempts to justify his actions, delivered with a soft and soothing cadence, only serve to deepen the chasm between the man you once knew and this deranged version standing before you. He speaks of a global project involving the parasitic vaccination of the entire world, claiming that he only sought to protect you and longed for your reunion in this new world order. 

According to his words, everyone will be connected through what he refers to as the Holy Body, and he brought you here to shield you from the chaos that looms outside. He even speaks of defying some enigmatic figure known as "their Lord," as if he had waged a battle for your favor against him.

It’s insane. He’s insane, but looks perfectly okay saying all of this stuff. Leon wasn’t like this one month ago, it’s Spain that changed him, the dots connect themselves — the gift that he talks about wasn’t a gift at all, he was most likely infected against his will like you were, and now believes in the batshit crazy nonsense he’s talking about like it’s gossip over tea.  

You realize quite a bit late that this is a cult because of his perfectly ordinary demeanor. He’s Leon and you trust him, and it stalls your thought process. 

You have to repeat it over and over again to process it.

Leon took you against your will, to a fucking cult. 

They even have a name for god’s sake, Los Illuminados — the ‘servants’ are cultists. It’s easy to fall into the normalcy and accept it the way Leon puts it, like some fairy tale, like telling you about news from another country. 

With the new knowledge of his past, you don’t know to be in awe of him or terrified, your whole relationship unraveling in transparent context littered between the lines as you rediscover who he is as a person and why he did the things he did — but definitely lean towards the latter the more you can’t get through to him to let this stop already, it becomes more clear to you very quick there’s a certain instability to him now that wasn’t there before, something dark as if he’s balancing himself on the razor’s edge of control, it swims closer to the surface whenever you mention you want to go home. 

The Leon you remember was gloomy at times, yes, but he was also rational, calm, and grounded. He was unyielding in the face of adversity and never subscribed to such ludicrous beliefs. The dissonance between the Leon of the past and the current incarnation, who mindlessly parrots the teachings of the cult, leaves you utterly bewildered. You struggle to reconcile the two versions, grappling with the question of who he truly is and why he committed these unthinkable acts.

In these moments, when Leon reverts into the preaching mode, his gaze becomes vacant, as if he is merely regurgitating the words he has been fed. It is only when his attention turns to your well-being that glimpses of the man you love flicker to the surface. 

The conflicting emotions within you reach a boiling point, leaving you paralyzed and unsure of how to proceed.

The gaping divide between the Leon you once cherished and this altered persona rattles your very core. Fear grips your heart as questions swirl in your mind. What now? What lies in store for you? The uncertainty looms like a dark cloud, casting shadows of doubt and despair over your fragile existence.

The answer and possible salvation comes to you in the form of a man, a mysterious figure who materializes from an entry point to the room you had no idea was there. 

The dim light casts eerie shadows on his face as he greets you with a slight bow. 

“Who are you?”

“Luis Serra, Princesita. Your only chance.” He nods, lighthearted, but you see the weight of his seriousness. “We don’t have much time. If you want to get rid of the parasite, come with me, I’ll explain on the way.”

Why do you feel like all you do is being swept with whatever current washes down your way? 

It’s bizarre to be running away — from Leon, of all people. Go with this random man number two, where? To do what? What happens to Leon, then? 

Thrown off by his sudden appearance, you try to assess the situation, searching for any signs of deception or ulterior motives. 

Despite your apprehension, something about his urgent demeanor and the glimmer of hope in his eyes instill a soft landing for trust in him, you feel that he can help you somehow — but there is the obvious elephant in the room. “What about Leon?”

“I’m doing this because he asked,” Luis replies, his words carrying a sense of loyalty and commitment. They have some sort of history you don’t know. 

Without further delay, he administers a serum, providing you with a temporary respite from the torment inflicted by the parasite Leon’s infected you with. It offers relief, albeit temporary, buying you precious time before the inevitable returns in Luis’ words.

You decide to go with him and see where this path leads, you have nothing better to do, can’t see any way out of this. 

He motions for you to follow him, leading you through a concealed passage that winds its way beneath the labyrinthine corridors of the cult's stronghold — a castle, as you’re shocked to take in. The path is bleak, the air heavy with a musty scent, but you push forward, driven by pure survival instinct to get away to safety.

Luis starts explaining not too much into your journey, hushed, he has all the answers you needed in the first place, quick to the point. "Las Plagas are ancient organisms with a malevolent sentience. They infest and control their hosts, erode their will and sanity. They were made to be… weapons to be harnessed by Los Illuminados. Those who succumb to it become pawns of their leader, Saddler, carry out his agenda. Slaves to his will. They don’t have their minds intact, just flesh prisons to obey his orders."

Your first thought is of Leon, the horrible sinking feeling unspun in your stomach. 

Luis knows what you’re thinking. “Leon… and his buddy Krauser are exceptions. They possess what’s called the superior species, newly engineered.” He raises his eyebrows and tilts his head at the same time, like he’s contemplating a good business deal. “That means free will. To a degree. Their parasites are connected to Saddler, so their bodies can be controlled, but not their minds. Not entirely. They’re not like the inferior ganados. That’s why he was able to seek you out with his own volition.” 

The realization that Leon is trapped within this nightmare strikes you like a blow, your heart sinking with each passing moment. "He isn't controlled?" you inquire, hope blossoming in your chest. "Can you save him too?"

Luis's response is filled with regret, his eyes reflecting a sorrowful truth. "I'm afraid he's beyond saving," he confesses. "The procedure I have can only remove newly hatched eggs, and Leon... well, he's already been consumed by this darkness."

The words reverberate through your mind, the horror of the situation fraying your soul. "But... I can't just abandon him!" you protest, determination and anguish trying to overpower one another.

"You'll be gone forever too if you don't," Luis warns. "It's now or never. If you hesitate, if he catches even a hint of your trail, it will be over."

“You said you were helping me because he told you to.”

“Before he was lost, yes, he made a final wish.” Luis softens, and you realize he’s grieving, too. “He told me to take you as far away as possible from him if he ever were to try and get you involved in this mess. Because he would never do that to you in his right mind, so he said. A total romantic underneath all that ice, eh?”

He would never do that to you in his right mind… 

You flash back to three days ago, to his words, to how he said he loved you, all his adoring, the broken dam of affection and how he didn’t hold back anymore. 

He wouldn’t have decided to go through with opening up to you like that had it not been for the parasite’s influence? 

Uncertainty dangles heavy as you fight with the bitter reality you thought was a dream come true, the heart-wrenching realization that the man you love has been ensnared by the very darkness he sought to protect you from — that only giving into it broke his control of keeping away from you emotionally.

Regret etches itself onto Luis's face as he observes your inner turmoil. "I'm truly sorry, Princesita," he offers with empathy. 

The moment hangs suspended, an agonizing choice looming before you, as you weigh the love you hold for Leon against the desperate need to escape the clutches of this cult. 

You don’t want to leave Leon, even when there’s something clearly wrong with him that can’t be fixed, but on the other hand… 

“Can you honestly tell me he isn’t the man I know?”

“He is less and more.” His tentativeness bleeds into the clearest possible simplification he’s able to give you.. “But isn’t the same.” 

“So what do we do? What should I do?”

You still cannot wrap your head around your whole world flipping upside down, can’t comprehend you have to leave Leon behind, you barely processed him being an agent. You’re stalling. Hesitating. And deep down in your heart, you know why. It’s because you don’t want to go. 

Leon is still Leon. 

But you’re terrified. 

 "The choice is ultimately yours to make. But I implore you to consider your own well-being and the chance to break free. I know that’s what he truly wanted."

“I—”

But as you open your mouth to respond, a sudden, excruciating pain shoots through your head, causing you to cry out in agony. It feels as if someone has driven a searing spike into your skull, rendering you momentarily incapacitated. Your body crumples, and you find yourself on your knees, clutching your head, desperately trying to block out the piercing ringing in your ears.

Amidst the torment, your consciousness is abruptly whisked away, transported to an ethereal realm. It is a dream-like state, observing the world through the lens of another's mind. The golden chandeliers cast a cascade of shimmering light upon turning corners and ornate doors, as the person you are connected to races frantically through the maze-like passages.

The frenzied movement abruptly halts, and your vision pulsates in tandem with the rapid beat of a heart. It’s Leon’s voice echoing through the recesses of your mind, a hidden depth of anger and desperation at the heart of his control. "I feel you," he utters, a slight tremble of heartbreak. "You're in here. I know you're listening. Where are you? Why did you leave?"

Realization dawns upon you, a profound understanding that you are inhabiting Leon's thoughts, sharing his fears and confusion. The sheer intensity of the experience overwhelms you, and you cry out, "No, make it stop!" Your consciousness briefly returns to the physical realm, tears streaming down your face, the pain of the connection too much to bear. "It hurts!"

The ethereal realm engulfs you once more, Leon's emotional turmoil swirling around you. His voice billows with remorse and longing. "It might... Things might have escalated a bit too quickly," he confesses, his tone laden with regret. "It's my fault, I got too cocky, too impatient. But I never wanted to scare you off. I only ever wanted to keep you safe. You have to trust me and open your eyes so I can do that, sweet girl, okay? I'll come get you. We’ll talk it out. You can’t run."

Confusion intertwines with the pain coursing through your being. Leon's words perplex you, as if there is a hidden meaning beneath his pleas. "My eyes?" you utter, the question hanging, unanswered.

Luis gets so loud that you’re brought back to your location for a split second. “Shit. Do not open your eyes!”

Leon hears what he says somehow — and it suddenly comes to you that if you’re in his head, he is also in your head. “Luis. I should have known.”

You feel a sharp pinch at the side of your neck that cannot even compete with the tremendous headache, and the vision begins to crumble, Leon getting fainter — his presence fading away, the last you hear of him is a furious and equally anguished, “Goddamnit, no!” before everything goes black.  

Luis detects the stirring of your consciousness before you do, and as your awareness is brought back from the dormant state you were in, he calls to you in the darkness surrounding everything. “Don’t open your eyes yet.”

You shift around, feeling the coolness of a rough surface against your back and the firmness of the stone floor beneath you. The silence is broken by a peculiar sound—an unsettling symphony of metallic echoes. Chains. Accompanied by Luis’ feet shuffling around, they slither across the ground, you can almost envision their length, extending and coiling, like serpents of iron, their echoes intertwine, creating an eerie melody because you can’t see them. 

“What are you doing?”

Luis's response is calm and purposeful. "Setting the scene," he explains. The sound of nails being hammered into stone with an underlying jingle punctuates his words, causing you to jump in surprise. "For Lancelot seeking his Guinevere."

The pieces start to come together, albeit slowly. "You want to trap him," you realize.

Luis acknowledges your understanding. "Wonderful, Princesita," he praises. "You catch on fast. Leon is connected to you somehow, and we can't progress if he sees through your eyes. So, we need to create an illusion."

Confusion and concern overflow as you question the feasibility of their plan. "But Leon is... He could be listening right now."

Luis dismisses your worries. "Do you feel that he is sharing your head at the moment?" he asks. The uncertainty in your response betrays your lack of knowledge. "Ey, you'd know," he asserts. "That means he isn't present. Perfect."

Doubts linger in your mind as you consider the risks. "Will it work? He's... well, I recently learned he's an agent. I don't think it'll be easy."

"Whose side are you on?" he teases, playful. But when he senses your unease, he quickly reassures you. "No worries, I get it. He's better with the ladies, I've learned."

You can't help but feel a pang of guilt. "Luis..."

He brushes off your concerns with understanding. "I'm almost done here. He's supposed to think you're alone, so you can't look at me when I tell you to open your eyes. I'll be hiding. Don't talk to me, don't acknowledge me, just wait."

Curiosity gets the better of you as you ask, "How are you going to..."

Luis's response is concise and determined. "It won’t be me who’s doing it. It will be you. I will be your distraction.” You hear his footsteps approaching, and something small but heavy being placed on the floor just beside you, hidden from your line of sight. “You’ll hide when he arrives, and when the time comes, I want you to shoot. Don’t worry, it’s a tranquilizer gun. Wish me luck so he won’t kill me on sight, eh?”

It doesn’t take long for him to signal you. 

You open your eyes, the darkness giving way to dimly lit surroundings. The scene before you is carefully arranged, meticulously designed to deceive. The chains that previously echoed through the room now come into view, hanging ominously from the winch on the ceiling, you follow the line with your eyes to see the other end is secured to the stone wall by a circle of nails. The clinks and clanks reverberate, amplifying the tension.

Luis is nowhere to be seen, but his presence lingers, a silent reassurance that you're not alone.

In the deafening silence, doubt gnaws at you, and you question the madness of your current circumstances. 

You’re unsure of what you truly desire, unable to look over how you really just found yourself going along with Luis's plan, not because it feels right, but because your mind is clouded, unable to think clearly. You feel like a reluctant child, accepting the path laid before you simply because it seems to be the only option available.

Uncertainty presses heavily upon you as you contemplate the impending encounter with Leon. Fear grips your thoughts, entwining with the deep-rooted emotions you still harbor for him. Despite the revelations and warnings about his true nature, your heart remains entangled in a web of love and trust, the idea of seeing him again evokes a conflicting mishmash of longing and apprehension. 

You find yourself yearning for his presence, against the knowledge that he is not the same person you once knew when the mere thought of his return conjures a happy expectation of hope within you, a desperate desire to be whisked away from the nightmarish reality that has unfolded — deep, deep down, you pine for him to be the savior, the one who can shield you from the horrors of this supernatural ordeal he inflicted upon you himself.

Yet, simultaneous fear engulfs your soul, you question your own liability, knowing that you still trust him, still harbor the potential to be swayed by his words and actions. The thought terrifies you, the notion that you might have readily agreed to his plans had he presented them differently, had he explained the sinister truth of the parasite in a more inviting manner. It's a terrifying realization, the awareness of your own susceptibility to his influence, and despite everything, he’s the only anchor you can hold on to not be swept away into that chaos. 

You want him to enter the room, to make everything right again, tell you all of this is a nightmare you made up in your head because in the real world you still miss him, and at the same time you also fear what his arrival may entail.

As if attuned to your thoughts, a prickle in your mind disrupts your musings—a subtle trickle of awareness, the sensation of being watched by an invisible presence sharing the same space as you.

So you wait, your heart pounding in your chest, the weight of the impending confrontation with Leon bearing down on you. Every second feels like an eternity as you strain to listen for any sign of his approach. The air grows heavy with anticipation, and your senses are on high alert.

Suddenly, a noise echoes through the chamber, a faint, careful creak of a door opening. Your breath catches in your throat, he was so deadly silent infiltrating the building this basement is in, and you scramble to crouch and hide behind stacked boxes facing his direction, praying to god he hasn’t heard you. 

His eyes search the room in  a hardened gaze, a mask of determination, scanning every corner, every shadow with professional coldness. 

Leon cuts through the silence, as if he’s been hurt by you somehow. "Come on, I know you’re here, you don’t need to hide from me, I’m just here to talk.. Don’t be afraid of me.”

Your heart aches at the sound of his voice, you fight back tears, reminding yourself that this is necessary, for both his sake and your own — you can’t crumble right now, absolutely dreading what actually hearing him out would do to you. 

Luis emerges from where he’s hiding, unknowingly coming to your rescue, stepping forward with calculated confidence. "Looking for someone, Leon?" he asks, dripping amused intrigue.

"Where is she?" Leon demands, and you’ve never heard him like that before — that bone-chillingly cold and intimidating, menacing, low tone is downright terrifying. 

“Not even a hola for your old friend?” 

Leon fucking pulls a gun on him and your heart jumps to your throat. “Where. is. she?”

Luis raises his hands in a placating gesture, a sly smile playing on his lips. "No need for violence, my friend. I'm here to help."

Leon's grip on his weapon tightens, his suspicion evident. "I don’t need your help anymore. Tell me where she is."

Luis chuckles softly with a trace of mischief. "Ah, the stubbornness of a man in love. But I'm afraid your Princesita is in another castle."

Anger flashes in Leon's eyes, his frustration mounting. "Don’t bullshit me Luis, I know she’s here. What are you up to?"

Luis takes a step closer, sympathetic as much as he’s purposeful. "I've done what you asked of me. She's safer without you." 

Leon's face contorts with disbelief and fury, threatening to consume him. "Safer? You have no idea what you’re talking about. There is no safer place on earth right now than by my side. The world's about to go shit. The President is down, and the impending mass vaccination is nothing but a precursor to chaos. Do you think this is some deranged lover’s obsession? No."

With hopeless resoluteness, Leon continues to pour out his frustrations and fears. "Someone, be it the WHO, Terrasave, or the BSAA, someone will eventually expose the truth about the parasite spreading through medicines. And when that happens, all hell will break loose — do you understand the scale of what I’m talking about? The illusion of a smooth and controlled resolution is nothing more than a lie, and we both damn well know it."

Emotions wash over Leon, leaving him vehement and exposed, self-deprecating, raw. "I may have failed in my mission, and I may have failed everyone, but I refuse to let her become a mindless puppet like those villagers and cultists. I won't let her perish chasing scope after scope for news articles that’ll get her killed. She's all I have left." His voice quivers with a defeated tenacity and desperation, he shakes his gun at Luis. "So yes, I made a choice. It's the right one. It's the only one. A choice where I can be with her, where she can stay safe. A choice where I become the monster, but I can’t care less about the consequences anymore. So, get out of my way, Luis, and take that getaway chopper of Ada's while I'm still giving you the chance. That a good deal?"

“What happens when Saddler loses?” Luis sighs through his nose, totally unaffected by all that talk. “What happens if you die on that hill?”

His question lingers for a moment before Leon responds, less baleful and more mournful, even accompanied with a strange sense of happiness. "I know the end. As long as I get to die in her arms, it doesn't matter."

In that instant, something within you snaps. The anguished anger and the raw empathy you feel for Leon flow through your veins, overpowering any rational thought. Without hesitation, you make a decision that feels both natural and inevitable — to shoot the tranquilizer. 

You pull the trigger, the dart finding its mark with an unsettling precision, and time slows as you watch it puncture his skin, him flinching with a hand clamping around the dart and yanking it out, his wide, red eyes finding yours as you stand up, the realization dawning in his eyes. 

You want to cry when it’s relief and happiness that comes first to him upon seeing you as if on instinct, and confusion and hurt wash over his features next as he sees what’s in your hands. It's a sight that cuts through your heart. He staggers, toward you, his body fighting against the encroaching numbness, as if defying the very fate that befalls him. With outstretched arms, he reaches for you, fingers trembling, yearning for connection amidst the sense of betrayal. 

Yet, despite his desperate efforts, his strength fails him. His legs give way beneath him, and he tumbles to the ground, his reach falling short. You watch, your heart splitting in two, as he crumples in a heap of confusion. His fingers graze at where your presence is, a touch that never finds its mark.

In the waning moments before unconsciousness claims him, his eyes search yours, pleading for answers that you struggle to provide. You stand rooted to the spot, grappling with guilt and anguish, questioning the validity of your actions, second-guessing the choices that have led to this heartbreaking scene.

As Leon finally succumbs to the claim of the tranquilizer, his body surrendering to the oblivion of unconsciousness, you're left with your final commitment, crystal clear. 

Your heart was set on this from the start. You were just too scared to admit it. 

You’ll stay with him in this darkness.

Leon’s all alone here, knows he’s doomed by the narrative, can’t leave — and all he thought throughout that was you and what would happen to you. 

You can’t leave this man in the solitude of tragedy, with the first ever selfishness of his was seeking you out despite himself to protect you. No moment has solidified his love for you more than this. How he thinks of you tremendously. 

You can’t not love this man. You can’t bring yourself to obey his wishes and abandon him.

The lamb doesn’t want to leave the slaughterhouse. 

With a heavy yet determined tone, you utter the words that seal your fate. "Go, Luis."

Luis protests, filled with concern and a touch of reluctance. "You can’t—"

Tears well up in your eyes as you gaze at Leon's unconscious form, lying helpless on the cold ground. The depth of your emotions overwhelms you, but you gather your resolve. "I can't abandon him now. Not after everything he's been through. He needs someone by his side."

Luis hesitates, torn between honoring your wishes and his genuine concern for your well-being, making a final attempt to persuade you. "I understand your heartache, but you're risking everything for him. Are you sure about this? There's so much at stake — you’ll become just like him, you know? You’ll never be able to leave Los Illuminados and go back to your old life."

“You don’t get it do you? It’s true that I'm scared, Luis. Scared of what lies ahead, the stuff you’ve talked about is straight out of a dystopian novel. But I'm more scared of losing him in all of this.” It haunts you how he said it doesn’t matter if he gets to die in your arms, no regard for his own well-being and health. Leon has never cared for himself enough, that much you know, but to think his entire system has collapsed like this, to the point where he’s let himself go entirely and came to you while wounded… It’s something you can’t turn a blind eye to. A cry for help you can’t ignore. “He looked for me in this chaos. Underneath all of the excuses of protection, Leon’s just scared. He doesn’t want to be alone.” You can’t look away now that you’ve seen everything. “I can’t go back anyway after knowing this. I’d never forgive myself. It's better to face whatever’s coming with him, no matter what horrors it holds.”

“There’s absolutely nothing I can do to change your mind?”

The fact that he’s set on doing this and looking out for you until the last second because he has promised Leon and is truly concerned warms your heart up. “You really should catch that ride before it’s too late.” 

“You’re making a mistake.” His concern mingles with a touch of admiration for your unwavering will. “But he’s hell of a lucky bastard to have you by his side throughout it all. This is the sacrifice of your life, I’m not joking. And I hope it’ll be worth it.”

He’s not like you, and that’s okay. You actually admire and envy his sense of self-preservation overweighs his loyalty and promise to Leon, that’s how a normal person should be. But the situation is far from normal, and you’re infected by a mind-altering parasite for fuck’s sake, and you’re not even sure you’re going through the quarter of what Leon has. 

“Thank you Luis.” Touched by his understanding, you reach out and take Luis's hand, gratitude shining through. “For everything.”

A somber atmosphere settles in the room as Luis grows more melancholic. He takes a deep breath before making his final request. "Before I go, there's one last thing I want to ask. Considering we don't know how he’ll react when he wakes up, I think it's best to be cautious. We should chain him up, just to be safe. I don't want him accidentally hurting you in his confused state."

You hesitate, unsure about the idea of restraining Leon, but Luis's earnestness compels you to consider it. "I don't think he would ever harm me..."

Luis interrupts gently. "Oye, let me worry about that, Las Plagas is unpredictable and dangerous. Do me this favor, it’s the least you can do to pay me back, yeah? A little caution won't hurt. And if Leon questions it, you can blame me. I can handle it from a safe distance out of his reach in the comfort of my luxury ride."

With Luis's words echoing in your mind, both of you set to work, struggling like you’re trying to roll a boulder up a hill with the weight of Leon's unconscious body. The effort is tremendous, sweat pouring down your faces as you maneuver his unexpectedly heavy frame. 

Exhausted from the strenuous task, Luis hands you the key, his face flushed with exertion as you finally finish securing Leon in chains. The room is filled with a heavy silence, punctuated only by the sound of your own labored breaths.

As the unvoiced question of what happens now makes itself known between you two, caught in the tension between Luis’ desire to stay and the necessity of his departure. His words come out disconnected, hesitant, obviously having an awkwardness that comes from bidding farewell under such circumstances. "Well..." he begins, trailing off as he struggles to find the right words. "It was a pleasure to know you, Princesita." His smile is half-hearted, betraying the mixed emotions within him. "I hope we never have to meet again."

The unexpected humor in his remark catches you off guard, and a genuine laugh escapes your lips, the sound reverberating through the room, mingling with the faint clinking of the chains as Leon stirs behind you, his presence a constant reminder of what you’ve decided to get yourself into.

Luis's insistence breaks through the brief moment of levity as he implores you, his eyes flicking between you and Leon's kneeling form. "Take care of him," he urges, a sense of responsibility coloring his words. "And yourself."

You offer him a reassuring smile, endlessly thankful for his guidance in getting you to realize Leon’s perspective. "Will do. You too, Luis," you respond, nothing but warmth in your heart for him as you acknowledge his efforts. "Don't feel bad about not being able to help us, please? You've done all you can."

He nods once, his features a blend of bittersweet defeat and acceptance. With a final glance, he retreats into the shadows, his presence fading away. The room feels emptier without him, and sadness washes over you, a stab of guilt for potentially failing him now that you are left alone with your thoughts and the finality of the decision you have made.

The room remains shrouded in an eerie silence, broken only by the faint sound of Leon's steady breaths and the gentle rattling of the chains that bind him. 

Your gaze inevitably falls upon him, bound and unconscious before you. 

The sight of him, held captive by the chains, elicits strange emotions that defy explanation. There is an undeniable allure that emanates from his restrained form, drawing you in despite the chaos that surrounds you. It is a conflicting blend of fascination and revulsion, a cocktail of sensations that confound your senses. You should be consumed by panic, overwhelmed by the dire circumstances and the looming threat of the parasite within you. Yet, in this moment, a strange calm settles within your being. Is it the influence of the parasite that dulls your anxieties, or is it a resolute acceptance of the path you have chosen?

Despite the restraints that hold him captive, there is an undeniable attractiveness that surrounds him, gluing your eyes to the sight before you.

Kneeling on the floor, Leon’s muscular physique is accentuated by the susceptible position he finds himself in, the chains tightly holding his wrists above his head, rendering him defenseless and at your mercy. His sculpted arms, stretched taut and slightly strained, display the evidence of his strength even in his helpless state, veins beneath his skin appear more pronounced, as if awakened by the touch of captivity and the strain of gravity. His tousled locks of blond hair cling to his forehead and darken in shade where they meet with sweat, adding to his prettiness. Even in his unconsciousness, there is a magnetism that emanates from his chiseled features — strong jawline, cheekbones, and glistening lips that have known both determination and tenderness. The pinch of his eyebrows low over his eyes adds a touch of rugged toughness, contrasting with the vulnerability imposed upon him by the chains. His chest rises and falls rhythmically, betraying the calmness of his unconscious state. Light and shadow dance across his defined torso, revealing the slopes and curves that bear witness to his physical prowess. 

It is an unintended pull that arises from the juxtaposition of strength and exposure, dominance and surrender. The image of Leon bound and kneeling, his arms raised and secured by the unyielding chains, creates a powerful visual dichotomy — a captivating blend of control and submitting, strength and fragility.

You didn’t know you were into BDSM. Is this what it is? Why the hell does he look so mouth watering in chains to you when there are more dire matters to feel about — you are being a giant pervert about an unconscious man. Sympathy, desire, and protectiveness intertwine, blurring the lines between what is right and what is alluring. In this moment, you are both drawn to his physical presence and compelled to ensure his well-being, torn between the magic of his bound form and the urge to set him free to not let your thoughts run further.

You have no idea how much time passes before Leon's eyes flutter open, blinking away the haze of unconsciousness, and you stand up from where you were sitting, hands clasped before you in an anxious gesture, fearing his reaction. Panic briefly flashes across his face when the drowsiness clears enough for him to notice he’s bound by heavy chains, his arms held aloft and his movements restricted — the harsh tug on the chains makes you jump and that’s how he spots you standing nearby, concern etched on your features.

"You’re okay," Leon breaks the silence, his words a murmured astonishment. It's not a question, nor is it a statement of certainty. It's an observation imbued with gratitude. He's taken aback, as if his mind is struggling to comprehend that you are here with him at all. That’s the first thing he worries about? That’s what he cares about? “You stayed.”

The corner of your lips tugs upward in a soft, bittersweet smile. "Yeah, I did," you reply. The way he looks at you, as if you hold a small piece of his shattered world together, tugs at your heartstrings.

Leon’s more wary and threat-seeking when he brings up the stranger. “Luis?”  

You start playing with your fingers. "He left.” A pause. “It was my decision.” 

He sits up straighter, like he can’t believe what he’s hearing. “Is… that so?”

It’s so bizarre having a serious conversation with him in chains now that you’re living it. “I’m… I’m sorry for the chains, I, Luis, uh—”

“No, I get it.” He says it like it’s a given and he doesn’t mind it — and that’s when you’re reminded again that he’s a specially trained agent, that’s where the attitude weirdly used to these kinds of things has to come from. “I haven’t given you a reason to trust me.” He gazes at you, his eyes betraying remorsefully hidden emotions, voice dropping down to a low whisper. “Yet you stayed anyway even when I’m like this. I never thought... I never expected anyone would ever, for me… You know.”

Your heart is a soaked towel and he has just wrenched it dry. The way he sees himself physically hurts. "I couldn't leave you, Leon.” You sniffle, head shaking as you confess, revealing your devotion. “I could never leave you."

He reaches out, his restrained hands straining against the chains, as if longing to touch you, to reassure you of his own unwavering devotion. But all he can offer is his words. "That’s all I’ve been terrified of," he admits. It stays unknown to you if the subject of the sentence is you leaving him or you not leaving him. "Ever since I caught myself falling for you, that’s what all this has been about and — this shit inside me amplifies the worst in me, and you’re still here. Damnit.” 

Tears well up in your eyes, blurring your vision, but you refuse to let them fall. "Leon, you are not alone in this." You want to kiss away all worries and fears he keeps to himself, now in front of you in all of their intricate, overthought glory. "I made this choice because I believe in you. I believe in us."

His gaze intensifies, searching you for any trace of doubt or unease. But all he finds is unwavering faith, and a love that refuses to be shaken. "I don't deserve you," he murmurs,  barely above a whisper. All of a sudden, the tiredness you know all so well pushes down on him. "Not after everything."

A soft smile graces your lips, a gentle warmth spreading through your entire being. Luis is wrong. He is definitely wrong — this is Leon, and he’ll always be Leon. "And I don’t deserve your love." He immediately looks like he’s going to disagree on the spot, but you don’t give him the chance. "But here we are anyway. I'm here, no matter what. I’ve made my choice. If you’ll have me too—"

The tension in his shoulders eases slightly. "I'll do everything in my power to keep you safe," he vows, engraved with purpose. Just the way he says it could be added to a resume, the self-confidence and intentness of a professional in his field behind the power. "I'll prove to you that I can be the person you deserve."

"Leon, I already know the person you are. And I'm not going anywhere."

Leon's widened gaze inflames, breathing becoming more labored as he hangs his head down and nods a couple times while hiding his face from you. “Okay.”

You didn’t expect that to make you burst out laughing, and his head shoots up when he hears your laughter echoing in the chamber. “Sorry,” you cover your mouth, turning around to not let him see and think you’re mocking him. “Sorry, I’m not laughing at you.” You manage to turn it down to snickering, screaming at yourself to stop already. “It’s just… that was so unironically you and… God, help. I don’t know why this is so funny to me—”

“Okay...”

“Stop! Stop saying okay.” You laugh again at his intonation, pushing the back of your hand against your nose. “That’s all you can say?”

Some sort of fascination surfaces beneath his stoic mask, like he’s someone who’s hearing the birds chirp for the first time. “Actually, I have a lot to say, but…” You watch him rise, his height allowing him to hold his chained wrists on his waist level. He reaches out with his shackled hands, beckoning you to come to his side, yearning for a connection, “You’re too far away for it.”

You jokingly tease. “Will you be a good boy?”

It has an immediate effect on him, sweet adoration stains into something suggestive, lingering between you like a charged current, and you can feel the shift in his demeanor, the warning tilt of his head, the faint red shine swallowing the blue of his eyes, the chains rattling as he grabs onto them in a tight, restrained grip, body tensing, a coiled energy barely contained. 

As his voice emerges in a single, sharp syllable, a low and husky whisper, “Don’t,” it sends a shiver all over your body. The words are measured, deliberate, and carry an undertow of caution that both entices and warns. It's a dark invitation. 

Oh. 

Oh. 

It’s not just you. 

You’re both fucked up. 

And you take a step closer, closing the distance between you, your heart pounding in your chest, and he watches you like a hawk. “I’m just asking a question.”

His eyes glow with an intense crimson hue in response, piercing through the dim light, making you halt when there’s only about five feet left between you and him. Black veins spread across his skin like intricate patterns of ancient curses, marking him up. And extending from his lower back, a large scorpion-like tail emerges, its barbed stinger poised in the air, and just as how the spine is a series of individual vertebrae, small bones stacked one upon the other, his tail too is articulated, allowing it to curl like a snake, curving and undulating with an eerie grace, almost as if it has a life of its own.

It dances through the air, floating towards you, its presence both beguiling and unsettling. You watch, apprehensive and curious, as Leon manipulates his tail, rotating it to show you every angle. As he nudges you gently with it, an unexpected tenderness shines through his alien appearance. "It won't hurt you," he emphasizes, a soothing reassurance. He looks like a creature plucked from the pages of a fantastical novel, but his care for you remains undeniable. "Try touching it."

You observe the chitinous exoskeleton, marveling at its texture and the otherworldly allure it possesses. "Will you feel it?" you ask, a snap of fidget in your curiosity.

Leon's eyes meet yours, a flicker of a mischievous smile playing at the corner of his lips. "That's a dangerous thing to want, don't you think?" His words carry a double meaning, an underlying invitation to explore the depths of desire that lies beneath the surface. In that moment, you realize you've unknowingly become a participant in his intricate game, a delicate dance of discovering boundaries.

"Leon, half-insect or not, I would want every part of you," you confess, unapologetically honest and smoking with desire. A swelling of boldness overtakes you, fueled by a mix of desire and affection. You take a step closer, your hand reaching out to grasp his tail. The texture surprises you—smooth and warm, defying the expectations of a creature born from nightmares. Leon's tail jerks slightly in response to your touch, the connection between you both sending a jolt of static through where you’re touching, and he is momentarily stunned, his ardor momentarily subdued by your unabashed declaration. “I want you, always.”

"Alright, alright. You made your point," he interrupts, a flicker of bashfulness visible beneath his attempt to maintain a composed facade. The teasing spark in his eyes is replaced by a rare sentiment, his emotions laid bare before you. "Well. " Some sort of self-consciousness fogs his expression as he looks down. "Though I do feel the same,"  he concedes, pink creeping across his cheeks.

But you're not finished. You close the remaining distance between you, your eyes locked with his. "Leon, I love you." You pour your heart into those three words, stronger, unmoving, louder, hoping he understands the depth of your affection if he hasn’t gotten it yet.

He looks away for a brief moment, his gaze fixated on something indiscernible, Adam’s apple bobbing up and down. "Yeah," he mumbles softly, almost lost in the space between you.

Undeterred, you reach out to gently grasp his face, turning his gaze back to meet yours. "I love you," you repeat, scolding him that he’s not taking you seriously. You want him to hear it, to understand the magnitude of your feelings.

A flicker of surprise crosses his features, quickly replaced by something akin to relief, leaning into your touch as if you’re the coolness he needs on a hot summer day. He likes hearing it from you, that much is clear, but the unfamiliarity of the sentiment leaves him momentarily at a loss for words. "Okay," he finally responds, his voice a soft affirmation.

You're about to reprimand him, demanding that he say the words you long to hear in return before you unchain him. But before you can voice your frustration, a sudden wave of dizziness crashes over you, throwing your world into disarray. Your vision blurs, the room spinning and tilting on its axis. You desperately blink, hoping to clear your sight, but the disorientation only worsens. The force of gravity seems to intensify, tugging at your stomach and weakening your legs, causing you to stumble forward. The pain strikes you with a merciless blow, knocking you off balance and into Leon's waiting arms. Your hands, once cradling his face, now find purchase on his shoulders for support.

"Hey!" The weight of your limp body causes Leon to follow you down, sinking to his knees just as you do. However, the chains that bind his arms above his head prevent him from fully supporting your torso. In a swift motion, he maneuvers his tail to secure your body against his, stopping you from falling backward. Your head lolls on his shoulder, basically shaking against him.

"Hang in there, come on," he pleads, trying to reach you. "Talk to me, what's happening?"

Struggling to keep the pain under a manageable level, you reply briefly, not wanting to talk. "I don't know... Felt… dizzy..."

"Shit, okay," he curses softly, his concern deepening. "Does it hurt?"

You just make a curt sound, wanting him to let it go and keep yourself from flopping like a fish out of water on the ground from how it’s ripping you apart. 

“I gotta know if it does. Can you tell me?”

You’re suffering, how does he not see? Does he need verbal affirmation that badly?

“Yeah,” you say behind gritted teeth. “Sure does.”

“Do you trust me?”

“Yes.”

“I’m going to sting you, alright? Only a drop of venom into your bloodstream,” he explains as merciful and comforting as he’s able in your state.  “You’ll feel a pinch but it’ll relax you. It might put you in an… aroused state because of your parasite, but you’ll no longer feel pain — it’ll feel good. I’ll take care of you.”

The mention of the potential side effects of whatever he wants to do to you makes your brow furrow in confusion, but there's no time to dwell on it. The pain has become unbearable, hacking at your every thought. "I'll feel good?" you question, dying for any kind of escape from the burning.

"Yeah," Leon affirms, a tenderness that reaches deep into your soul. "You'll feel good."

A stream of questions floods your mind, but Leon interrupts before you can voice them. "Not now," he interjects, pressing the syllables with more stress and emphasis. "Will you let me take care of you?"

His distress resonates with your own need for relief. "Yes," you respond without hesitation. "Yes, okay. This pain is killing me, just do it."

With a swift movement, his scorpion-like tail hovers near your exposed nape, its barbed stinger poised and ready.

"I promise, it'll be over soon," Leon whispers, dead set on his goal. "Just hold on."

The venomous tip of his tail makes contact with your skin and a sharp pinch sends a jolt of sensation through your body, but the initial pain subsides almost instantly, replaced by a soothing coolness that spreads from the injection site. It's an odd sensation, the venom working its way through your bloodstream, numbing the pain and replacing it with a peculiar mix of relaxation and heightened sensitivity.

A soft exhale is pulled from your lips as the effects continue taking hold, the relief washing over you like a gentle wave, and you melt against Leon, wrapping yourself around him, having automatically sought him out on pure instinct. He carefully adjusts his sitting and goes down on the balls of his feet to allow you to crawl on him, ensuring you're comfortable, his tail retracting to support your back for a more comfortable embrace.

"You're doing great," he murmurs, his voice a soothing melody amidst the chaos. "Just let it take effect, I’m here."

The heaviness in your limbs dissipates, replaced by a newfound lightness, as if a mass has been lifted from your body. The world around you becomes hazy, the edges blurred as the arousal Leon had warned about intertwines with the relief spreading through your veins, 

It begins with a tingling warmth that spreads across your limbs, akin to tiny sparks dancing on your flesh, and then, the heat gradually intensifies, caressing your senses with a gentle yet invigorating burn that awakens every nerve ending. But amidst the rising warmth, the usual wave of the venom’s coolness follows, like a frosty breath gently kissing your skin. The burn and the coolness entwine, creating an annoying race of who gets to be on top. The heat stimulates your awareness, drawing attention to how good it feels to have Leon’s strong body against you, how you would like more, how you want to explore this new form of his as he’s ribboned up like a present before you; but simultaneously, the coolness acts as a tranquil connection to reality, tempering the fiery sensations with its gentle touch.

Leon’s unique smell underneath your nose pours into your circulation from your heaving lungs, you snuggle in to get more of his scent, in the crook of his neck, right behind his ear… You can’t help but rub your head against it like it could somehow pass to your own body — it’s all instinct, the space of your head pleasantly misty, the feeling of only wanting to get closer wiggling enthusiastically inside. You notice your hands are on the move later, running up his sides and his back, only when you feel the ripple of bumps on his spine following your fingers gliding up and down as if responding to your touch. 

“Leon…” He sucks in a sibilant sound when your nails run down his back, momentarily shivering against you. “Leon…”

“Yes, I’m here.” It’s his tail that cuddles you against him because his hands are unavailable. “What do you need, sweet girl, hm?”

How do you say you want to fuck his brains out and do as you wish with him as he’s chained when he can’t retaliate, and how turned on you’re getting by the minute? “I need you.”

You hear the chains rattle and glance up briefly to see his hands balled up in the restraints. “How do you need me?”

His tendency to take things slow and enjoy the augmentation of need as it builds up is a formidable adversary to the you of the present, the frustration is testing the limits of your endurance. There’s something carnal in the way you want him right now, eating away at your patience for playing games with him. 

You rise on your knees still framing the outside of his thighs, and taking advantage of the small difference of height it gives you, yank his hair back to make Leon look up at you, his eyebrows arch upward in an arc, the ascent giving away the shock, and his mouth falls agape, lips parting to release a whispered exclamation “I don’t need this dirty talk, I want your dick in my throat.” You stare him down, catching your reflection in his red eyes and see that the same blight webbing him up is also infesting you, shining in your eyes in the same shade of crimson as his. You simply don’t care. “Is that a satisfying answer?”  

His chin lowers, leering lascivious, and you swear the veins on his face become a more prominent shade of black. “Jesus Christ.” He yanks on the chains, the harsh sound higher in pitch with the power behind it. “Gimme the key.”

“Nooooot gonna.” He leans towards you when you scooch away from his lap, but is unable to chase you fully. You fixate on his crotch, mouth watering, throat anticipating taking in his shape, phantom soreness reminding you what’s coming. You reach out to his thighs and place your palms on his knees, running them up awfully slow, feeling the rigidifying limbs under your touch. 

“Huh? Hey, what do you mean—” He’s stuck between trying to get up and staying that way for you. “What, you’re not untying me?”

“Shut up, I’m in heat right now.” You pop the button of his jeans and bring down the zipper, palming his half-hard bulge above his underwear. “Stop complaining.”

His hips jolt up into your hand, eyes fleetingly rolling behind his head from the satisfying contact, and his cock continues to swell up in your hand, straining against the confines of his briefs. “I’m not complaining — ”

You yank his underwear down, his head popping free and dangling, you bring the underwear underneath his hips along with his jeans with a little help from him rising up and allowing them to slide down better. “You brought this on me, so I’ll feel good the way I want to. Stop. Talking.” 

Chuckling in an underestimating mirth, he’s in the middle of saying, “Yes, ma’am—” mockingly when you lift the edge of his top up to shove the crumpled fabric into his mouth, exposing the carved dips and curves of his chest and stomach. He’s rendered shellshocked for only a second before he lukewarmly glares at you, that’s how you know he doesn’t hate it and only acts like he does. That interested swishing of his tail would be enough to break the chains, but he doesn’t attempt it at all. A silent communication passes between you two, that this is an extension of the role-reversal sex you had the day he left for Spain, and he makes it clear he’s down for whatever you want to do with him. 

Without breaking eye contact, you kiss down his chest and the pads of your fingertips glide along his heated, soft and firm skin, and slow down when you reach the plane of his pronounced abs that tense with each lick and open-mouthed nibble from you, the tautness increasing when the way down from his navel and the path you follow along the veins end up becoming torturously unhurried. 

He has to breathe from his nose, and you pick up where he is on the scale of impatience from his control breaking for it to seep into how sharp or deep they become 

You decide to go on your stomach for now,  letting him remain perched, the coldness filtering into your clothes from the ground not really all that important compared to drinking in all of Leon’s crumpled microexpressions. 

A satisfied noise rises from him as you take him into your hand and give a couple pumps and purposefully stick your tongue out to let your spit dribble considerably on it for better slip and slide, he’s starting to get red in the face. 

And when he thinks it’s about to start with the usual opening of getting him in the mood by the standard jerk-off and the buildup from there, you catch him off-guard by taking him all the way into your throat in one go, concentrating to keep your gagging and choking at a manageable bodily response that won’t make you recoil and start coughing — and surprisingly, it doesn’t hurt, whatever’s in that stinger of his is making everything feel different, you are actually scratching an itch at the back of your throat with Leon and it feels so fucking good to give him head and hearing him respond so eagerly to it. 

The sound he makes despite holding his shirt up with his mouth is choked and powerful as his hips jerk forward and pushes into your mouth, his guttural whine stutters from Leon as you swallow around him. He can’t talk and respond or tell you how you’re doing, but all the pretty noises, from gruff groans, to desperate humming, and restrained moaning tell you all about how he’s feeling. 

You run your nails along the skin underneath his naval and the muscles there jump, the bobbing of your head picking up unexpectedly as you’re literally working to rip his climax off, and he doesn’t feel it sneak up on him, breathing getting more rapid and panicked at how fast you’re wrenching it out of his dick and unconscious shallow thrusts meeting your movements right in the middle — you know exactly when he’s about to come from the slight swell of his dick in down your fluttering esophagus and the tightening of his stomach. 

That’s when you stop and take him out with an audible pop, your lips puffed and red, eyes teary. It twitches before slapping against him and his shirt falls from his teeth in an agonized and disappointed groan as his hips stutter forward in an attempt to search for friction, the fucking saliva trail connecting his lips to the fabric makes your heartbeat swoop downwards. “Why? I was right there!—”

You bat your eyelashes at him, blowing cold air on his denied arousal. “I know, baby.”

“You…” His lips draw back in the middle of a low sound at you gripping his base and giving the head kitten licks, alternating between swirling your tongue around and focusing on sucking the tip only. “Ah, what the fuck.” Your tongue delves into the slit of his head and precum gushes forward, his teeth are exposed in a breathy sharp hiss and a jolt.  “Yeah, that’s it… Shit.” 

The view of his fat chest and his strained, sweat-glistening strong neck swallowing is divine, you pick up the momentum again just to see him get worked up enough to throw his head back for the sight of his striking Adam’s apple, the black veins are doing something else to you that has your insides flipping.

You catch the glimpse of his tail swishing in the air, curling at tandem with your movements. You try taking all of him again to see how it’ll move and the sudden stop and trill has you wanting some friction between your legs. “Fuu—ck, your mouth is a vision, full of me.”

You lick along the bigger vein trailing up under his cock. “Does it feel that good?”

He only nods and thrums a small shudder, but you don’t let him off the leash just yet. “How easy.” Leon’s eyes snap open at the audacity. “Being chained and played with like this…” You give him a particularly harsh pump and the chains jangle because of his sudden tug. “Letting it happen because you want it so much. Desperate to be fucked.”

The degradation alone gets him to pulsate in your hand a couple times, his brow wrinkles as if he’s suffering. “You like this.” You drag a sluggardly strong grip up his weeping cock and his tail whips the ground. “Say it.”

His muscles tense and release, creating a rhythmic movement beneath the surface of his groin upon your teeth getting into the mix. “Shit — I love it.” His arms flex, causing his shackles to rattle. “Everything you do — everything you do to me feels amazing. Keep going, nearly there, I’m about to—”

You hum around him, and he clearly feels the vibrations, rising his hips in an unbelievably hot fluid movement and cursing under his breath, ruby-stained eyes glassy and feverish and mouth thinned and bit from inside. His thighs caging you begin to shake, and you’re made aware he’s close again. 

And this time, it’s him who knows you’ll pull back when he needs it the most. “Oh no, you don’t.” 

Something coils around your torso and pins you in place so his dick can’t slip out of your mouth, you struggle for air and attempt to pull back, but Leon barges in on your alarm, hoarse and gravelly. “Easy, it’s just me, don’t worry.”

Your hands grasp to the fabric of the jeans on the inside of his thighs, finally able to comprehend he used his tail to bind you — surprisingly gentle yet immovable, it doesn’t suffocate you, nor hurt you in any way. 

Mouth still around him, you look up to see he’s watching you, possessing a smoldering zeal, hunger a glint on a knife’s edge, shadow of a sly smile dances upon his lips, a knowing smirk, a sense of assuredness amplifying how he has you, one that reveals all that he’s thinking and claims control from your hands. With every heavy breath he takes, his chest rises and falls, revealing the heightened state of his arousal, and it seems his irises glow a shade darker crimson, a pulsating energy radiating from him, a palpable magnetism that ignites a fire within your own being.

“I’m going to move us around, stay still.” 

He makes sure to remove his erection from your mouth without hurting you before it’s with a natural predator’s grace he rises and stands up, his tail maneuvering you around to sit on your knees right in front of him, and you can only gape as he wraps the excess of chains around his wrists so they don’t get in the way, his forearms and biceps pop like they belong to a god like this. 

“Pretty mouth, waiting just for me.” At this height, he’s able to reach down and run a thumb along your bottom lip and push in, rubbing through the length of your tongue, fascinated.  

The giant appendage, then, unwinds around you, but much to your astonishment, doesn’t slither away, the thinnest end sneaking its way between your thighs instead and your legs clamp around it, but the drag forward defying your refusal has you squeaking. God, the jointed nature of it, like some weirdly shaped anal beads, is acting as periodic zaps moving against your heated sex. It even has the strength to fucking lift you up. Your panties are going to be ruined at this rate. “Leon, what—”

“Wanna make you feel good too.” You’re boosted up when it gives you a particularly harsh press, stars shooting everywhere in your vision with the delicious press not just focusing on one area, but rolling through your clit and dipping to make your entrance contract. “I’ll move it, you focus on taking me.”

Fuck, this is basically the thigh riding from before but on another level, that’s so hot —  

His manacled hands wrap around the angry red of his cock, the size of his hands so titillating fisting the length. “I’m gonna fuck your mouth, is that okay?”

You reflexively swallow, mouth watering instantly. “Please. Please.”

“Such a good girl, begging for my cock down your throat. I can’t refuse when you plead like that.” He rewards you by a rich thrust of his tail forward, your eyes closing in delight, you’re sure that a wet spot is forming with all that moving around. “Open up.” 

You obey and loosen your jaw as much as you can to let him set the pace, hands grabbing on the moving appendage between your legs in preparation to be used like some glory hole, but unlike your aggressive start from before, Leon is much more deliberate and unhurried in bottoming out, your head is swimming in a sea of dizzyingly gratifying smog, white and blanked out as he pleasures you through it. 

You get so lost in it that he sharply hisses and caresses your forehead with shaking hands and has to warn, “No teeth, sweet girl. Relax… Yeah, just like that. You’re doing so well, so perfect, making me feel so good.” 

You don’t mean to mewl around him the way you do, but his praises are so sweet as if he’s always getting his dick sucked for the first time, makes you feel appreciated, makes you feel special. 

Tears are streaming down your face, saliva drooling down your chin, you’re sure you’re gonna have a sore throat after this, and that sight would be ugly and messy to you, something you wouldn’t want to show anyone, needlessly embarassing, but it spurs Leon on, he craves prettying you up as he says, loves that you become a mess just for him — and you had missed all of that being a sign of neediness before all this. He loves the feeling of being special just as you do, loves that he’s able to get you filthy like this. 

“Shit — can’t believe I get to have this forever, now… Never thought… Never—” He breathily laughs, the sound turning into a wanton growl as your throat constricts through his drawn-out, unrushed thrusts. He’s babbling like a man in a confessional, speed beginning to pick up, the movement of his tail also reflecting the frenetic climb, sending your snowballing itch spiraling into completion. “Don’t care what happens anymore — don’t care, don’t care, only need this—sah, fuck!”  

His hands hastily rest on top of your hand to keep you in place and you whine and squeal, his stretch digging impossibly further down, a long groan echoing in the chamber at the same time of something metallic shattering and falling off with incredible strength, Leon’s hips twitching in place with your nose buried deep in the fuzz of hair at the base of his cock. Waves of warm spurts drizzle down your esophagus, and you don’t taste anything, but have a go at swallowing on instinct, and it coerces a strained, debauched moan out of him. 

His tail moves to pull you away from him and you sit back on your heels, shaking more so from your impending orgasm being pulled right under your feet like a rug because of the abrupt halt of the rhythm, unable to stop the coughing, wrapping a hand around your throat for dampening the soreness, and before you know it, his lips have taken the place of your hand, smothering your neck and your face with kisses. 

“You did so good. A fucking angel of sin — for me only.” He doesn’t hesitate to entwine his tongue with yours tenderly as if it’s a honeyed treat to lap up, his gratitude and enthusiasm running high as before. The way he speaks into your mouth gets you pressing your legs together to ease the painful, sweet throbbing between your legs. “You were amazing, sucked the soul out of me, holy shit.”

A whiny, “Leon,” and a tug on his shirt is all he needs to know you need him.  

“I know sweet girl, I have you.” His tail sneaks around your waist again, loose in case of your refusal. In the corner of your eye, you see the winch fastening the chains on the ceiling is squashed on the floor, yet his hands are still bound. “You trust me to make you feel good, right?”

“Yes, always.”

“You can say no if you don’t like this.” The sensation of being moved so easily by something alien is frightening as much as it’s arousing when it’s coming from Leon, your anticipation is about to drip down your legs at his tail gently propelling you up to stand on both feet steadily and turning you around so your back is facing Leon. You are bent down from the waist, and the fear of falling makes you jump, but the appendage is fully supporting you, almost making you float, you could stand on your tiptoes with full body weight and you wouldn’t crash on your forehead. “Is this alright?”

You are about to break down in a series of tremors from how much this is turning you on. “Yeah.”

His hands run along your tailbone. “I’m going to chain your wrists behind your waist. That okay?”

“Fuck. Yes.”

“Tell me if it’s too tight.” He doesn’t need to reach for your hands, you align them to rest on your waist on top of each other. He does adjust them a bit and sets you straight after you crane your neck to take a good look at what he’s doing — you’re only able to get a single frame of him unwinding some of the restraints around his wrists to bind them around yours, affectively connecting both your shackled wrists together in a short line of chain. One of his hands grabs and tugs, securing his tail around your torso a bit better at the same time. “How is that? Any discomfort?”

“It’s fine.”

“You sure?”

“Can you please just fuck me already, I’m about to die.”

He lets you go to slide two fingers up your clothed pussy, your folds quite literally pulsing at the contact. “It’s burning up —- you want to brand me, huh?”

You don’t indulge in his running mouth, just wanting to enjoy the fiery pleasure his fondling fingers light in their wake. 

“Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you.” He switches to pulling your pants down together with your panties, but not all the way down, making it hang in the middle of the most supple part of your thighs, efficaciously getting them to act as yet another restraint, this time, around your legs so you won’t be able to part them. Two digits easily slide inside and you yelp, held in place mercilessly. “Fuck,” he says, faintly, a subdued composure, the voice going straight to your pussy and making you clench over his fingers. “You eat me up so eagerly. That hungry, sweet girl?”

Your head’s tingling and buzzing from all that rush of blood in this position, everything gets more overwhelming when you bow your head. You just want him inside you. “Please…”

 You pitifully moan at the loss of your fingers, and the brief squeeze of his tail is comforting. “I’ll relieve you.” The replacement of his bulbous tip running through your lower lips is enough stimulation for your toes to curl inside your shoes. 

You’re shaking with the release of your anticipation, and he curses. “Fuck, you’re sucking me in.” The same chain that binds you both rattles when he grabs your bound wrists, your eyes widening at how his tail also simultaneously pulls you towards him to sink into his girthy length, working together with his hips. 

He’s working you. Using you. Manhandling you, drilling you into him like he’s using a fleshlight as he pleases and everything feels so euphoric, your mind descending into a foggy, floaty bliss despite the tears of instant gratification; the whole burden of responsibility, decision-making, and external pressures melt away and only he exists, and the ecstasy Leon’s spoon-feeding you.

He checks in on you, pulling on your binds, voice tight. “Feel good, sweet girl?” 

“I wa—” You hiccup, followed by a trembling whimper, wanting something for your neglected clit, you can’t reach the threshold like this, you keep rising but not enough. “I wanna come, please, let me—”

“Sshh.” His tail is circling you, like a snake twisting around its prey, and you don’t get it at first that he’s getting more of it into the grip for the fat and curling part of his stinger to be able to reach and roll over your unattended, swollen nub. 

Your mind is so sunken into the pleasure you can’t even worry about the barbed part getting near your vulnerable parts, but he’s an expert at making it knead just the way that gets you uninhibitedly screaming. “I got you, I got you.”

Your legs collapse beneath you, his tail carrying your entire weight as your climax fractures within you unexpectedly, not even taking some time to grow and spread and take time aching — it just explodes, making your body convulse in aftershock shudders, unable to contain your palpitating sobs. 

“Ah, Jesus Christ, fuck!—” The clamp of your cunt around Leon also dropkicks him into his own orgasm, shooting straight into your cervix. He rams into you a couple times before he bottoms out to the hilt, his chained hands having yours in a death-grip, staying like that until the twitching of his cock subsides and he starts going soft. 

When you come to next, the chains are completely gone, broken and shattered on the floor, even. Your clothes are straightened and he sits cross-legged on the ground, his back to a wall, and you’re on his lap, tightly hugged by him, still struggling to catch your breath. The view of his muscular arms around your waist is a delight, as always. 

“I feel disgusting,” you say. A sense of discomfort washes over you, amplified by the lingering physical sensations of sweat and fluids. Your face contorts with a mix of satisfaction and unease, the need to cleanse yourself from the stickiness that clings to your skin uncomfortable.

“I think that was amazing.”

You snort. “Not that — I mean, I want to take a bath, everything feels so sticky.”

Leon plants a kiss to the side of your head. “I’ll take you.” 

He probably means somewhere you can clean yourself, but you can’t help but ask. “Take me where?” 

He pulls you in to snuggle better, resting his forehead on your shoulder, tired but playful. “Well, there’s this castle.” 

He still hasn’t told you all that much about what’s going to happen. There is no salvation from the parasite inside you anymore, it has its home in you, but you know you’re not a captive, not when you share the same chains as him. “After our visit, can I—can we return home, then?”

“I…” The sentence dies as it starts. “I don’t think that’s possible. Not for a while.”

“Because you won’t let me?”

“Because I don’t know what Saddler will want with you.”

He knew the consequences. 

Something inside you makes you change your mind — no, he chose the lesser of two evils for you knowing what was coming. 

You can’t bring yourself to blame him, this was meant to happen — you were meant for this gift, meant for this fate, to carry this creature, share it with him. You feel less doubtful and sure of this now, feel the same red of Leon’s eyes, the black of his veins, you shoulder the agony together. 

Your common sense gives a last breath as it fades into non-existence. “We’re fucked, aren’t we?”

He chuckles, shielded and spiteful. “Yeah.”

“But you still wanted me by your side.”

“I was worried.”

“You were lonely.” He succumbs into a muzzled silence, and you try to reach out once again. “At least we’re together, right?” 

“Yeah… Together in this hell.” You don’t get to see what kind of face he’s making. His deep voice is raspy, and despite his contrition, he’s holding onto you tighter than before. Failure is a shame upon him, and he doesn’t let himself be comforted. “I’m sorry for bringing you down with me.”

“I’d burn for you, anyway. I don’t care.”

He’s brusque and uncompromising. “I wouldn’t let you burn.”

“Then I’d burn with you.” You turn in his lap to look him right in the eyes — his red meets your red. “Together in this hell, right?”

Lambs to the slaughter. 

[scryarchives]

OMG i just taught of this in my head its alright if ya dont wanna write it but NANAMI AS A FATHER HEADCANON cuz like man will be dedicsted to making sure his child has a goos life (and not be like gojo)

my masterlist !

✭ pairings: platonic - dad!nanami x daughter!reader

✭ warning: nanami's probably out of character, pure fluff, fem!reader

✭ word count: 1.2k words

HII OH MY GOSH, thank you for the ask!! okay so this is my first ever hc request and I ABSOLUTELY ADORE the idea of this!! I hardly ever write 'x reader' content, but I really might just start doing it for the platonic reqs! I really do think Nanamin would be the best dad ever, but Gojo would definitely be a great parent too considering that he does believe that children should be allowed to be happy without having their childhood taken away! Anyway, I've yapped enough, here are the Dad!Nanami Headcanons! Enjoy!

𝐝𝐚𝐝!𝐧𝐚𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐢 | 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬

Dad!Nanami who:

✧ Raised the baby left on his doorstep, crying and swaddled in cloth with her heartbreaking screams of hunger and lack of love filled his ears. ✧ Instantly checked on her condition, considering the baby’s cries, he couldn’t tell if perhaps she was injured.  ✧ Once he figured out she was fine, he instantly rushed to the store with the baby in his arms, rushing through each aisle to hunt for baby food. ✧ Bought the food the moment he spotted it, adjusting her in his hold as he quickly paid for it, sitting on the ground outside to open the food and feed the starving child. ✧ Softens the moment he hears her cries stop, her big eyes staring up at him intently with her remaining tears gathered in the corners of her eyes.  ✧ Smiles a little the moment he sees how quickly she devours the baby food, showing how hungry she really is. ✧ Thought maybe parenthood isn’t as bad as it seems.

✧ Feels pride bubble up in his chest the moment she begins to walk, her smile wide as she wobbles towards him, his arms wide open as he speaks to her with soft encouragement, “That’s it, step by step.” ✧ Scoops her up into a big hug the moment she’s a few inches away from her, her little giggles of amusement bringing her so much joy. ✧ Doesn’t mind doodling silly little things with her, scribbling down on a paper whatever she asks, as long as it’s after work hours, despite his urge to bend the rules for his little girl. ✧ Brings her to work as long as he’s not on a mission (because really, who in the right mind would put such a precious being in harm’s way?), just to make sure that she’s safe and sound. At least she’s with him, and he can keep an eye on her. ✧ Knows he can trust his baby girl with Gojo’s students when he needs to go on a mission, and never Gojo, even if Fushiguro did turn out the way he did under Gojo’s care. ✧ Would make the three teens promise not to let Gojo within a five-foot radius of his little daughter because he knows it would mean nothing but trouble (who knows what really goes on behind those blindfolded, blank eyes.) ✧ Is nothing but touched to see how the three students cared for his little girl so carefully, seeing her resting on Itadori’s chest as they sleep on the couch with the hushed noises of children’s cartoons in the background from the TV. ✧ Tucks her away before gently placing a warm blanket over the three students who he clearly cared for (he’s never explicitly said so, but they all know it). He’s nothing short of grateful for their help babysitting the precious little girl in his life, and he sees her as his own, not caring for the fact that she was just left on his doorstep. He can’t wait to see her grow.

✧ Tears up a little behind his glasses as he drops her off for her first day at preschool, his face stoic as ever as he wonders where all the time went as he watches her skip off to class, waving goodbye to him. ✧ Wishes that time would slow down just for a while so he could read her bedtime stories and notice the tiny things she does to try and make his day easier. Always his little helper, she was. ✧ Can’t wait to pick her up, packing up fifteen minutes earlier from work just to collect her on time, turning to Gojo with a glare as the white-haired man smirks, entertained to see his junior so caring and paternal. ✧ Arrives at her preschool just a minute early, waiting at the school’s gates as he hears the bell ring, the cheers of other kids rushing out like water from a broken dam. His eyes immediately rush to find her tiny figure, and he bends down, recognising the top of her head through the sea of children. ✧ Listens to every little thing she tells him, from what she saw in the class to the friends she made – even the tiny ants she saw at the playground during recess. ✧ Smiles the moment he sees the drawing she did in class of a poorly-drawn him and herself (he doesn’t mind it one bit), just proud to have been involved in her growth. ✧ Frames the drawing instantly, and though it’s a little big, it sits on his bedside table, right next to his wristwatch and glasses. ✧ Has no hesitation to put aside whatever housework the moment she asks for help with homework – math specifically. ✧ Is as patient as he can be, explaining the basics clearer for his precious daughter to understand, helping her with the first bit before letting her try it out on her own. He’s positively glowing with pride when he checks through her homework, finding it all done correctly. ✧ Ruffles her hair as she grins with a laugh as he gives her his rare words of encouragement, “Great work, kiddo.” ✧ Sees her with a gold star sticker her homework the next day as she runs to him after school, her maths worksheet waving in the air as she jumps into his arms. ✧ Is nothing but satisfied to see her beaming with pride at her efforts, and relieved to know that he’s doing a good job so far.

✧ Finds himself stuck, struggling to explain where her mother is as she peers curiously up at him, his daughter now up to his hip. ✧ She’s grown again, and her increased height followed her curiosity as she asked more questions, and noticed more things – well in this case, the lack thereof. ✧ He simply replied with a, “It’s always been you and I.” Relief fills him the moment he sees a nod in understanding, but the thought keeps him awake at night. Eventually, he’ll have to explain, it’s always the hardest thing to find out how to do it. ✧ Finds out why she asked as he spots a little worksheet on her desk, his brown eyes widening as he recognises it as a family tree. ✧ Two of the slots are filled, but the rest remain blank, and he feels nothing but pity, a sigh escaping him as he picks up the sheet of paper. ✧ Plans to tell his daughter everything that night, preparing her favourite dishes and desserts, but his nerves are getting to him, resulting in a tense silence as he sits at the dining table, waiting for her to finish her shower. ✧ Notices the moment passes as she sits down, digging into her meal as he clears his throat, finally finding it in him to speak. ✧ Watches every twitch of her eyelid as she blinks, waiting for some sort of reaction from her, hoping that she’d take it well. He’s not sure of what he’d do if it all went south. ✧ Is silent by the end of the explanation, waiting, gauging for her voice to say something, but all he can see are her big eyes staring at him. ✧ Is caught off guard when she says, “I don’t need any other family, because I have you, Dad. I don’t care if I’m adopted or not, you’ll always be my dad.” ✧ Feels his eyes water, his arms spreading open to pull her into a hug. It’s uncharacteristic of him, but for her, he wouldn’t care. She’s his daughter, his little girl, not bound by blood but by bond. ✧ Would want nothing more than to hold her in his arms, wishing to protect her from every little bit of harm because that’s what you do with things you adore, with the things you treasure – and she’s everything to him, his baby girl.

taglist: @mooncleaver @underwateredwrld @mcmisbehaving @neteyamrealgf @khany2026 @tinkerbelle05 @iheartamajiki @sad-darksoul @yunymphs @cindol @rrairey @cheriiyaya @yurislotusgarden @kesshavx

< comment/dm me if you’d like to be on the taglist! >

[isuckatwritingsobenice]

Face it dear, you need someone like me.

Synopsis: You live a happy life with your husband, Ralph, who never notices you running off in the middle of the night to a certain radio host…

Warnings: Cheating, NSFW under the cut! Alastor being Alastor! Oh and Human Alastor because he will always be my fav <33

Navigation!! // Masterlist!! // Serendipity Writes (event )

You lived a quiet life. Your husband Ralph was more than enough. He worked in construction and was busy all morning and into the late hours of the night, getting home at eight p.m sharp every evening. The two of you had a lovely marriage, some would say picture perfect even. A small house, living in the city. What more could you ask for?

Well maybe some alone time. Or financial security. But hey you can’t have it all right?

You hadn’t intended on cheating on your husband. Hell you didnt even want to get involved with Alastor, he was just a colleague. But, he had so sweetly convinced you to go dancing with him one night after your husband knocked out on the couch. Sneaking out was easy when he slept like a log and honestly? It was the best night of your life. You felt alive. Like things were okay. You felt so pretty in your dress, with your hair done up. The two of you had even shared a flask on your way back to your home.

But then Alastor turns down the wrong street, and now you’re on his doorstep, the both of you fiddling with the lock, trying not to pull away from each other even though you both need air. But everything felt so good, so right. When he finally opens the door to his home you both stumble in, giggling all the way. He hazardously removes your coat, letting it drop to the floor as he does the same with his. You kick your heels off, while he does the same with his. Garments are tossed as you both make your way up the stairs, sliding into walls and becoming an entangled mess of laughter. His hands are everywhere they shouldn’t be, and yours remain wrapped around his shoulders, manicured nails raking through his hair as the kisses descend from your lips down the side of your neck, where he bites down ever so slightly. He kicks the door to his bedroom open wider, the two of you walking in as he sits you on the bed, pulling back to see your face. Lips are swollen, and the red lipstick you had worn for him was smudged off the side of your lip. The marks down the side of your neck were beginning to form despite only being made moments ago, but he’s a passionate lover who loves to leave his mark on things.

No, you hadn’t intended on cheating on your husband. But he was so gentle with you, so warm and loving, his touch lit you ablaze like if you were a forest fire. Feeling something felt amazing, and he felt all the better.

No, you didn’t want to cheat on your husband. You didn’t plan on taking your lunch breaks just to walk around the park with Alastor. That wasn’t done intentionally, it just happened. The same way everything else did.

You didnt want to cheat on your husband, but when he knocks three times on your door nine thirty you know it’s Alastor. You don’t even think twice before leaving to spend the night with your favorite man. A man who isn’t your husband.

You dont like cheating on your husband. No, not when you hear him talk about how much he wants to start a family with you. How painfully you have to smile back at him, knowing you aren’t even interested in sleeping in the same bed as him anymore. What a cellophane Alastor called him.

“That man is undeserving of you dear. When are you going to be honest with yourself hm?”

He’d say, at the worst damn time too. Slotted perfectly between your legs, asking you these things when your mind is nothing but mush because of him. But isn’t that the best part? Because it’s him you’re doing all this for. It’s Alastor you choose to spend your nights with, and that makes him want you so much more. So you could imagine his pain when he knocked three times and you didn’t answer. No, not when he heard those sweet sounds of yours from the other side of the door. How dare you.

Yes, Ralph was your husband. But Alastor was so much better than him, it was almost hard to fake it. “I love you so much Y/n.” Your husband said with a sigh, sleep finally taking over his body. You just nod, feeling guilty. No, you don’t like cheating on your husband. But how are you supposed to feel when your husband doesn’t feel like your husband anymore? When he feels like a man you sleep with so he doesn’t become angry with you? You gather yourself together quickly, not even recognizing the time, and shut your bedroom door quietly. You make your way to the kitchen in a robe, and almost jump out of your skin when you see Alastor standing next to the counter with a cup of tea in his hand.

“Alastor…- Alastor I-“ You were at a loss for words. How did he even get in?

“Tell me, my dear. Why won’t you leave him?”

Alastor asks, setting his hot cup down on the counter. His smile doesn’t change, but it’s thin. You know he’s upset with you. “I don’t know. I don’t know how to, break the news to him.” You say, looking down. Alastor scoffs, pushing off the counter to walk towards you.

“Do you love him?”

Alastor asks, stopping a few feet away from you. “I do…but-“

“No. Do you love him?”

Alastor asks again. He knows the answer. You both do. “No. No I don’t.” You whisper to yourself, tears brimming your eyes. Alastor smiles wider now.

“Then why do you let him use you? You know he isn’t half as good with you as I am.”

He says, getting close enough to take your hands in his. Tears fall from your face, and Alastor coo’s as he wipes your tears.

“I don’t want to hurt him.” You say, sighing. Alastor just smiles.

“Why don’t,”

He says, moving to tilt your face to look at him. He smiles as you stare at him teary eyed, and though usually he’d love it, right now he wants that sad look gone.

“You get your things, and why don’t we leave?”

Alastor asks. You stare at him wide eyed. “Leave? But, my home-“ Alastor tut’s at you, pulling away from you to walk back to his place by the counter. You stand there, shocked.

“Do you really need to stay?”

Alastor asks with a laugh.

“Darling, you’ve already hurt him enough.”

He says, hoping that will snap you out of it. When he see’s you still, stuck there, he pinches the bridge of his nose, glasses moving up.

“He can’t give you what I can.”

He says, and you shake your head.

“Alastor he’s been a good man to me. I can’t just-“

“Can’t what? Sleep with another man and then try to act like you’re perfect? Dear you and I both know we are far from perfect.”

Alastor says, and it hurts because you know he’s right. You’ve already hurt your husband, so why are you still sticking around as if you care?

“He’s been there for me through so much. He needs me.”

You say in a low voice. You didn’t think this would hurt you this much.

“What about what you need?”

Alastor asks, studying your features closely. He walks back to you again, this time pulling you closer to meet him halfway. This time you’re forced to look at him. He gets closer to your face, and you hate the way you feel butterflies when his thumb traces your bottom lip.

“Face it dear, you need someone like me.”

[ohtobeleah]

Was It Over? // Jake Seresin

-> Chapter Seven: [Faucet Failure]

Summary: Jake makes his way back to you after finding out the truth. While under sedation to give your brain some rest, you remember the good times and the bad with your husband.

Warnings: Sick!reader. Breast cancer diagnosis. Jake Seresin x F!reader. Angst, hospital & medical inaccuracies. SLOW BURN ROMANCE/ Inaccurate medical information. Relationship turmoil.

Word Count: 4.6K

Author Note: These chapters keep getting more and more heartbreaking. I can’t even deal. Why did you guys let me do this to y’all?

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

November 22nd

The dim glow of your TV was the only thing in the house that was giving your home any sort of light. The kids had all gone down well, both Lucy and Lennox had swimming practice after school which meant that they were down and out for the count before you even got from their beds back to the door. Sam was easy to get to sleep, he always had been. He was just a naturally sleepy kid. 

The gentle knock against your front door startled you, but didn’t shock you. You knew exactly who it was. It was the same guy who'd given you a tissue to dry your tears, the same guy who sat beside you and kept you company during one of your lowest moments. It was the guy that had turned an overly depressing core memory into one that showed a little humanity, sympathy and understanding. 

“Happy Birthday!” Jensen cooed as he stood at your door with a plastic bag full of Chinese takeout containers full to the very brim. “I didn't know what you liked so I think I got one of everything.” You stood at the threshold of your home just staring at the man who was on your doorstep, who’d insisted on buying you dinner. When you had informed him of your three children, Jensen said he’d have it delivered.

But he didn't specify who’d be delivering it…..

“I hope you weren't expecting a tip.” You smiled as you let Jensen into your home, the unimaginable amount of scattered children's shoes made it look like you were raising a family of caterpillars, but Jensen didn't mind the mess. He understood, his sister had two little girls around about the same age as Lucy and Lennox. 

“But I brought you cheesecake as well?” Jensen smiled back at you in the darkness of the dimly lit hallway. “Can’t have a birthday without cake.” 

“I don't even remember the last time someone brought me any form of cake.” You sighed as you politely took the cheesecake in its cake box. Jensen frowned in response as he watched you hit the light switch in the hallway that led to the kitchen. 

“Didn't your husband ever buy you a birthday cake?” He called out as he followed you deeper into your humble abode. It was a simple question that carried far too much weight than you were ready to truly unpack. You'd told Jensen in one of your many conversations since you first met about how you and Jake were separated due to circumstances that weren’t fair to either one of you. Jensen never pressed for more information than you were willing to give. 

“He used to.” You shrugged. “I can't remember the year he stopped, hell–I can't really even pinpoint when he stopped caring but eventually he did and soon enough my birthday just became another day.” It was hard to admit, but Jensen made opening up about your marital struggles easy, you never really confided in anyone about any of it. He had a non-biased opinion. “But I loved Jake, I still do, at the time I guess I didn't care that I was getting a fraction of what I deserved because a fraction of him was better than nothing at all.” The tears were there, they were ready to spill over your lower last line. But you never let them fall as Jensen sat down at your kitchen bench and opened up the bag of chinese food. “But it all got too much– or too little, I suppose.” 

“Have you told him about the cancer yet?” Jensen asked softly, he wasn't pressing, he was just asking. 

“I still dont think I’m going to–he probably wouldn't care, I mean he forgot my birthday.” Again you shrugged it off like it was no big deal. “I highly doubt he’d care about some cancer diagnosis.” 

“Are you sure he wouldn't care? Or have you just convinced yourself he wouldn't because it hurts less to believe he doesn't care than it does to believe he does?” When you answered Jensen's heart sank. He saw the tears in your eyes, the look of heartbreak that reflected from your very soul. The longingness in your expression. He saw right through the wall you tried so hard to protect yourself with. He saw it all. Which is why when your voice cracked and your support beams held together by caffeine and your need to keep a normal routine for your children in place, faltered, Jensen sighed. 

“It didn't take much convincing–”

“Y/n–”

“How was Chemo today?” You tried your best to change the subject as you grabbed some cutlery. The chair beside Jensen at your kitchen counter looked awfully comfortable. 

“Consider my follicles fried.” Jensen chuckled as you handed him a spoon. “Now don't change the subject, we’re talking about you and this husband of yours, who, I'm convinced, is a few screws short of a hardware store.” 

“Oh yeah? Why's that?” You weren't sure if you wanted to know, but what you did know was that Jake wasn’t here. He’d sent you a message earlier in the day but you were yet to respond. You felt that if you replied it would open a floodgate of vulnerability. But soon enough Jensens words had you in a freefall of wondering if it was truly over between you and Jake–

“Because I don't think anyone who's lucky enough to love you would ever put themselves in a position to lose you.” 

Or not. 

***~***~***~**~***~

“Look left for me?” Doctor Ignatii spoke as he shined his little pen light in your eyes. “And right?” You did as you were told although you just wanted to be left alone. “Count to five for me?” You almost rolled your eyes as Doctor Ignatii stepped away and walked closer to your feet. 

“One, two, three, four, five.” You slowly counted. “Do I get a gold star?” Doctor Ignatii didn’t take your foul attitude to heart, he dealt with people like you every day—over the years you tend to develop pretty thick skin. 

“Possibly, if you can wiggle your toes and touch your nose?” He asked through a smile as he began to feel your feet. “Wiggle please Mrs Seresin.” 

“This better not be my audition tape for the Madden Brothers Circus.” You didn’t mean to take your hostility out on the doctor who had saved your life, but there was a small part of you that wished he would have just let the blood clot do its damage. You did what you were told once more and wiggled your toes and touched your nose. “Look at me go.”

“Well—“ Doctor Ignatii chuckled to himself as he filled out your charts on his iPad. “You don’t seem to be showing any immediate deficits post surgery, I’d like to give your brain a chance to rest for another ten to twelve hours before we get you out of bed for a little bit of a walk.” You listened to what your doctor was saying as your mother came back into the room, you didn’t know it but Jake had just landed and was heading right over. 

“Does that mean I get more of these awesome drugs?” You asked playfully, your mother even swore you were flirting. Doctor Ignatii was very handsome with brown hair and dark skin. He smiled at your forwardness but nodded in response. He was also used to this. 

“We’ll give you another sedative to make sure you're able to rest, you’ll probably feel like you got hit by a bus when you wake up but it’ll give us a clearer indication if you’ll face any deficits going forward.” 

“You reckon breast cancer’s a deficit?” You couldn't stop thinking about the dream you had about Jake. it felt so real, like your own personal rolodex of memories was trying its best to show you the good times. For whatever reason that may be you had no idea, but, you really had to ground yourself in your own reality. Jake wasn't the Jake from your memories anymore, although you desperately wished he was. He was now the Jake who couldn't remember your birthday or to fill your Christmas stocking on Christmas. He was the guy who let you peel your own oranges after he’d done it for so many years. 

He was the guy who had fallen out of love with you. 

“I do, but your double mastectomy has been rescheduled for Christmas Eve. So what better way to wake up on Christmas morning knowing your chance of kicking cancer's ass just went up by thirty five percent?” It was your turn to smile at Doctor Ignatii as he ended the conversation about your cancer at that. “I’ll send in a nurse to admit the sedative, mum? She’ll be out for a minimum of ten hours while on the IV, you should take the time to get some rest too.” 

“Sure thing Doc.” Your mother answered as she watched him walk away. “Were you flirting with that man?” 

“No harm, he’s seen the inside of my brain, can’t get more intimate then that can you?” You were probably putting on a braver face then you felt but your mother could tell you were nervous about the sedative.. 

“I’ll stay with you for the entire time you're sleeping.” She cooed as she pushed your hair behind your hair. She noticed how stands fell almost with the gust of her fingertip. The chemo was killing your hair follicles. “You won’t be alone.” 

“Thanks.” Was all you said as Lydia came into your room ready to set your IV drop up. “I hope you’ve done this before, kid.” 

“Absolutely Mrs Seresin.” Lydia chuckled, she felt a lot better after a full eight hours of sleep. “I’ll just get this sorted and you’ll be good to go.” As Lydia set up your IV, you had just rough energy to send one message to a dear friend you thought should know about your current state. Your mother watched as you typed out a really quick message with one hand. 

You: “Had a stroke, in hospital, surgery rescheduled.” 

“Promise you’ll stay?” You asked your mum one more time as you saw her reading a text. A text from your ex husband telling her he was about twenty minutes away and running off the five hours of sleep he got before his world got flipped on its head. 

“You’re not going be alone sweetheart.” Your mother answered rather cryptically. As your eyelids grew heavier and heavier. “You’re not gonna be alone.” 

***~***~***~**~***~

“I'm here.” Jake had taken the next flight back to Rhode Island that he could, he didn't have time to waste when it came to getting back to you. He was tired, emotionally exhausted from everything he had learnt of your condition and dishevelled beyond belief. He was sure someone threw a dollar down at him while he was sitting on the floor at the airport next to a charging port. He looked so distressed and dishevelled that someone thought he was homeless. 

He kept that dollar though. 

“Okay, ask the main reception to point you in the direction of oncology and we’re in room 306.” Your mother replied over the phone, Jake had called her about fifteen minutes after you had been administered your sedative. 

Jake felt his heart in the back of his throat as he took the elevator up to the level the lady at the reception desk in the main lobby of the Rhode Island hospital had told him to go to. Oncology equals cancer, you had cancer, breast cancer, you had a stroke, strokes can kill you, cancer can kill you. 

Jake had thought about nothing else since he got on his flight, the idea that you were sick, that you were so sick you couldn't even tell him broke his heart more than you leaving him ever could. There was once a time where Jake thought you could tell him anything, that you were able to come to him with any problem you had or were facing. 

He couldn't pinpoint exactly when you stopped telling him things, or more importantly when he’d stopped listening. Jake couldn't help but to blame himself for feeling like he’d somewhat put you into this situation where you felt like you couldn't rely on him to step up when you needed him to. You were sick and you needed support, he was supposed to be that support, but instead you kept him in the dark like he didn't deserve to know you were ill. 

Maybe he didn't deserve to know, but either way Jake was walking towards room 306 where your mother had told him to go. He brought his duffel with him, Jake made no plans to leave your bedside for the duration of your stay. However long that may be, he was gonna be by your side. 

And the second he got to the threshold of your hospital room, Jake Seresin forgot what it was like to be able to breathe on his own accord. 

“Oh Honey.” He cooed as his bottom lip quivered, your Mother tried her best to remain a strong presence but at the sight of Jake crumbling under the weight of the idea he’d lose you twice over made her eyes water. “Oh my sweet girl.” 

***~***~***~**~***~

“Jake!” You shouted out throughout the house as Lucy and Lenny watched over baby Sam as they ate lunch in the living room.“Jake!” 

“What?” Jake called back to you from the back deck where he was busy doing absolutely nothing but enjoying a beer with his feet up and his sunglasses on. He just needed twenty minutes. Sam had been a handful today and ever since Jake got home he’d wanted nothing more than to use his body as a jungle gym. 

“The faucet in the ensuite won’t stop leaking, can you please tighten it before you get too comfortable.” You asked as politely as you could with a soft smile. 

“Sure, yeah I’ll put it on the list.” Jake shrugged your request off like it was nothing but another chore you were commanding him to do. When Jake didn’t budge, you crossed your arms over your chest and pressed the issue further. 

“It’s just that I’m trying to work on my new book and I can’t concentrate with the dripping.” You were in the middle of your latest project. A new book proposal your editors were waiting on. 

“I said I’d get to it Hon, just—why don’t you try writing somewhere else besides your desk? Or better yet, shut the ensuite door?” Jake couldn’t see the rage burning in your eyes when he told you to basically deal with it until he could be arsed to get up. 

“Jake please?” You begged, it wasn’t the first time you’d asked Jake to fix the leaky faucet but it would be the last. It was one the few final straws that broke your back before you decided enough was enough and you couldn’t stay in your marriage any longer. “I need you to do this one thing for me so I can work in peace.” 

“If it’s so important that it needs to be fixed right this second Hon just fix it yourself?” Jake argued back as he took a sip of his beer, it had been a long week for him and he needed a moment to relax. “You know how to fix a leak.” 

“I already tried!” You shouted back loud enough to finally have Jake taking his glasses off to look at you properly. “I’m trying to work, I’ve had the kids all week and I need to get these last few chapters done before next Friday and you go back to work on Monday.” You saw the look Jake gave you, one of annoyance and frustration, like you were some kind of parasite trying to ruin his day off to relax and enjoy some rest and rejuvenation before Monday rolled around again. 

“Honey if you let me sit here for twenty minutes I will fix the fucking leak for you.” He tried to hide his disdain but you could read it through the lines on his face. “I’m not sure why you can’t just write somewhere where you can’t fucking hear it but I’ll fix it the minute I’m done drinking my beer.” 

“Alright.” You pressed your lips together and tried not to let your anger boil over. “Alright I can live with that.”

“Hallelujah, she can live with compromise.” Jake sassed as he took another sip of his beer. You chose not to respond as you headed back inside the home you both shared with a feeling of under appreciated value looming over your head. What did Jake mean by compromise? You did so much and more for him, why was it such an issue that you’d asked him to fix a faucet. 

He never did get around to fixing it like he said he would. Twenty minutes turned to two hours, which turned to two days, months and eventually It was only when the both of you decided to sell the property when you said you were leaving, that he noticed the leak was never fixed. 

You never did finish that draft, the book that remained unpublished and half finished. You kept the google doc on your laptop and sometimes you thought about picking the project back up. But you never did, you never had time to, not while you were on the cusp of divorce and raising three children all on your own. 

“I uh—I fixed the faucet.” Jake sheepishly told you as he made his way into the kitchen to see you packing plates and bowls and cutlery into moving boxes. 

“The faucet I asked you to fix back in October?” You replied harshly while trying not to look at the man who forgot where you should have been on his priority list. “Glad I compromised on that one for this long.” You hissed, it had only been four days since you told Jake you were leaving, that you were moving back into your mothers place with the kids until you found somewhere to live. 

“Honey—“ 

“Please don’t call me that.” You asked rather simply as Jake's heart broke before you. He was losing his wife, his kids and didn’t know how to fix what he’d unintentionally broken. 

“Don’t go, we can fix this, I don’t want you to go.” 

“Well unfortunately this isn’t about you Jake.” You tried to keep your voice down so that you wouldn’t alert the kids to your argument. If there was one thing you weren’t going to do it was fight in front of your children and subject them to that environment. “Tell me, it’s January right now isn’t it?”

“Yeah?” Jake wasn’t sure what you were getting at as he watched you pack the boxes of things you were taking with you. 

“When’s my birthday?” You asked like he should have known that answer off the top of his head, because he should have and he did. 

“Novem—oh fuck Y/n no hold on a minute.” Jake couldn’t find the words he wanted to say at that moment, how could he forget your birthday? He missed it entirely and you said not a single thing about it. 

“My stocking was the only one empty at Christmas, not a single present under the tree was mine, you know why that is? It’s because for four years I’ve brought my own damn presents and gotten my own fucking birthdays cake, you don’t give a shit about fixing a goddamn fosset so I can focus on work let alone the little things.” You hissed before you tried to calm yourself down and get back to packing. Jake just stood there speechless looking like he hadn’t slept a wink in days. He hadn’t, not since you told him you were done and that you needed a break. 

“I can fix this, please.” Jake was begging you to stay, he didn’t want to lose the one person who meant more to him than life itself. “Just don’t leave me.” 

“There isn’t enough room for me in your life Jake, and instead of being selfish and trying to change you I’d rather let you go to be yourself. People change.” You shrugged. Staying now would have killed you, Jake felt you slipping through his fingers in real time as he watched you wrap up the mugs you were taking in old newspaper. “I sure never thought the man I married would change into someone I don’t even know.” 

***~***~***~**~***~

Jake was at a loss for words when he stepped into your hospital room. The Christmas lights that shimmered around the room were a stark contrast to the plethora of machines that were scattered around your bedside.

“I thought since she’s sleeping the blinds should be shut.” Jake could just barely make out what your mother had told him as she rose to greet him with open arms. He couldn’t peel his eyes off you for even a second as the woman who had become his second mother took him in a warm loving embrace. “She’ll be out for a while sweetheart, they gave her a sedative to help her brain rest.” 

“How long?” Jake asked as he held your mother tight. 

“About ten—maybe twelve hours, she only just started the drip.” 

“Oh—okay, yeah no that.” Jake tried to hold himself together but the damn was breaking. “That’s probably for the b-bet—oh god.” Jake Seresin had never felt his entire body crumbled into someone the way he felt his body crumble into your mothers arms. 

“Oh my boy it’s alright, she’s alive, she’s gonna be okay.” Your mother tried her best to soothe Jake's cries but she knew it was coming from a place of love and undeniable sadness. “Here, sit down, I’ll go get you a coffee and something to eat.” 

Jake took a seat next to your bedside and immediately reached out for your hand. He knew you were under and wouldn’t know he was there but he still brought your palm up to his lips and pressed a gentle kiss to your hand. 

“Oh Honey I’m so sorry this is happening to you.” He sobbed quietly as your mother stood behind him. “I’m so sorry I didn’t know.” 

“She hasn’t told anyone but me Jake, not her friends or her brother.” It was hard to process the sight before him, the love of Jake's life surrounded by machines, hooked by cords and wires and monitors that told him although your eyes were closed you were in fact, alive. “I don’t think she wanted you to know because she’s just so scared despite how she might put on a brave face.” 

“Or she thought I wouldn’t care.” Jake mumbled as he reached out to make sure your hair was resting behind your ear, part of your head had been shaved from surgery, but Jake never expected the hair he tried to move back behind your ear to fall out at his touch. “Oh my god—“

“She’s been on oral chemotherapy since her biopsy came back cancerous, she needed you to take the kids so she could start more aggressive IV chemo.” 

“Her hair’s already falling out?” Jake had never felt this way before, so rendered powerless. He’d taken a life before and saved many, but watching you right now was the most powerless he’d ever felt. Jake caught the sight of your phone flashing with a new message with a name he didn't recognise. There was no time to ask you about the message he saw, but jake knew maybe, just maybe, you had lied when you told him there was no other guy. 

Jensen: “Oh shit, I'll swing by once I'm out of the woods.”

“Aggressive cancer needs aggressive treatment sweetheart.” Your mother leaned in to kiss the top of Jake's head. “I’ll be back, coffee and a sandwich will do you good.” 

“Thanks Maz.” Jake sighed as he kept your hand up near his mouth as he leaned his elbows on the side of your bed. “Oh Honey, Honey, Honey—what have we become?”

***~***~***~***~***~***

Your honeymoon was the most beautiful trip you’d ever gone on. Jake Seresin was very much a summer man. He loved when the sun was shining and the water was cool and the beers were as refreshing as they ever could be. 

The resort in Bali that the two of you were staying at for the entire two weeks was nothing but picturesque with stunningly gorgeous gardens and extraordinary architecture. The pool you were sitting on the edge of was just one of the many pools that you and Jake had yet to visit. He stood on the ledge of the rock waterfall and smiled ear to ear. 

“I’m not resuscitating you when you slip and hit your head!” You called out through a beaming smile. 

“Reckon I could clear a backflip?” Jake asked childishly as he climbed to the very top. His abs looked far too perfect to be real as he stood tall and flexed just for you, his wife. 

“Jake Seresin, don't you dare!” You warned as you looked over your sunglasses at your childish husband. He was everything any more, how you got so lucky you'd never understand. The two of you had decided on a small elopement style wedding that saw only a handful of your closest family members in attendance. The both of you saw no need for over the top extremities and thoughts of dollars spent on a single night. You thought why not use the money on a holiday getaway, your dream honeymoon. After Rodney had gone on his happiness never ends tangent, Jake wished the two of you had just gone down to town hall. 

“Live a little Mrs Seresin!” Jake shouted as he took the leap of faith and backflipped off the very top of the man made rock waterfall that cascaded down into the crystal clear pool. The two of you were the only guests in sight which you were so thankful for when Jake came belly flopping down into the water with a crisp slap. 

“Oh!” You cringed hard as your husband hit the water. “That's gotta hurt the ego buddy.” You giggled as you watched Jake swim under the water closer to the edge where you sat just relaxing in the smallest bikini known to mankind. “Jake?” You asked as he crept closer and closer under the water. Your eyes never left his swimming silhouette until he was jumping up right in front of you to rest his elbows on the edge of the pool right in front of you. 

“My execution was a little off.” He grinned as you leaned in to give him a kiss. Unbeknownst to you though as your lips pressed against your husbands, his hands snakes around your waist to quickly drag you into the water where Jake needed you to be. With him, forever. 

“JAKE!” You shouted as you fell into the pool. Jake couldn't contain his laughter. Thank god he remembered you knew how to swim. 

“Yes Honey?” He cooed as you resurfaced with a gasp. 

“You’re a child!” 

“Uh no–I'm not.” Jake made sure to correct you as he pulled you closer under the water. His hand explored your ass as he wrapped your legs around his waist and held you up against him. You could feel his hard on pressing against your core, it wouldn't take much at all for him to slip out of his trunks and into you if he wanted to. 

“But if you want I can show you how they're made?”

***~***~***~***~***~***~

Tags: @blindedbythelightt @starset21 @tayl0rhuynh @mamachasesmayhem @marvelogic @itsmytimetoodream @maverick-wingman @kodzukenmaaa @eternalsams @seitmai @nota-professional @jessicab1991 @hardballoonlove @senawashere @lafrone @fanficfandomlove @withahappyrefrain @dizzybee03 @maisie-rebloging-blog @goldenseresinretriever @a-reader-and-a-writer @sunlightmurdock @shelbycillian @memoriesat30 @accioprocrastination @the-aspiring-fanfic-writer @athenabarnes @eternallyvenus @emma8895eb

[senanatheskenana]

Hello! I loved your Sinclair post about their S/O leaving them. If you would like too could you please write a part 2 where the S/O comes back and the talk it out? Happy ending if at all possible only if you want too, I hope you have a great day!

I'm glad you enjoyed it :)

I hope this is ok, i tried my best but i've been a little bit rusty after my break from writing <3

Part two of this

The Sinclair Boys' S/O Comes home.

Bo Sinclair

Bo had exhausted nearly every option of where to find you.

He knew that even if the chance of getting you back was slim, he had to at least apologise- promise to be better. For once he needed to prove to someone that he was worth the fight.

Most of all, he needed to see you.

And he never admitted it, but a part of himself needed to see if you looked even a fraction of the way he did.

Bo turned up on your doorstep, hat in his hand, face covered in dirt, sweat, and who knows whatelse.

You had to admit he looked awful- worse than you'd seen him in months.

Even when Bo recognises he's done wrong, he doesn't always feel bad and her certainly never apologises for it.

Until now.

~~~~~

You stand there on the porch, staring expectantly at Bo as he struggled to find words. His throat was dry, and all of the things that he wished to say- the large speech he had spent days rehearsing and rewriting- melted into nothing at the back of his throat. He looked at you briefly before diverting his attention downward at his shoes.

"Beauregard, please say somethin'. I don't wanna stand in the cold all day," when he doesn't seem to respond, you more to shut the door on him. He panics and in a moment of adrenalin, sticks his hand in the doorframe to stop you from closing it. He doesn't so much feel it as he does hear the scraping crunch, letting out a hiss when you immediately reopen the door to let his trapped fingers go.

The next thing he knows, he's in your kitchen with a bag of ice wrapped around his hand. The lights in the kitchen are too bright for Bo, making everything but you seem hazy in the sleep deprived state hes in. You can see that hes not in a good state, but it worries you how he got here

"Bo, did you drive all the way by yourself?" you hope he says no, that Lester had driven four hours to get here. However, from looking into his truck, you know it was just him.

Bo looks at you like you're stupid. "I drove. Din't ya see the truck?"

"Don't make that face at me, Beauregard. Why are you here?"

He stares at you a little longer again, his resolve cracking further. It's been so long since he's seen you and now he can barely look at you out of shame.

"Sugar, you know i ain't the type to apologise for anythin'. An' i know you deserve someone who does..." but now he looks you in the eyes like a kicked dog, "I haven't be'n treatin' you like I shoulda."

"Bo-"

"No, please lemme say this cuz i wanna get the chance before you chuck me out." he sighs.

"I know I'm no good for you, and i know i dont deserve the time of day from you but i do love you... Sugar, i love you so much it hurts when you ain't around no more. It's like i'm continuously choking on smoke. Now I ain't trying to guilt you into comin' home- Ambrose. "

"Bo please just say it"

"I'M SORRY- I know that don't make up for how ive treated you- or anyone," Bo shifts and mores to grip your hand, "But i wanna be better for you, i wanna show you i love you, and make you feel loved"

You remain silent for a time and he feels his stomach sink slowly to his feat and he deflates, retracting his hand.

"I-I'm gon' head out soon, get outta your hair for good. I just wanted you to know i was sorry."

"No you're not, you're in no state to drive Bo. Stay the night here. We can head back together tomorrow" at that his face lights up. "You can have a shower before you get anywhere near me though," you tease.

He smirks and scampers up the staircase, "Yes, ma'am"

Vincent Sinclair

Vincent made no attempts to find you.

After all, why would he try to bring you back if you were only going to leave again.

He figured he may as well cut his losses and try to get over it.

So he tried.

For weeks.

Then for months.

But he just couldn't.

He saw you in everything he did.

He could swear that he saw you in his paintings or in visitors' cars.

Hell he thought he saw you getting out of Lester's truck right now.

Until he realised you actually were.

But something was different.

~~~~~

Through the glass he could see you hopping out of the cab of the truck, thick winter sweater consuming your figure. He's sure its one of his.

Vincent rushed through the house to the front door, swinging it open on its creaky hinges. You hardly get the chance to look at him before he's wrapping his arms around you tightly.

Lester stands to the side watching.

"Yer lucky i was drivin' west otherwise she might not've made it t'all"

Vincent turns away to sign to Lester but you dont catch it because he's moving his hands so fast.

"She's tryin' to get back to ya but ran outta gas before i found her"

He was shocked. You were trying to get back to him? Why, he was sure you wanted nothing to do with him this entire time.

He signs slower so you can understand,

'Why did you come back?'

You look at him sadly. In truth you felt bad for running away with no notice- leaving Vincent all alone with no explanation.

"I had to." you started, "Because i love you. And it wasn't fair to run away, i know, but i was scared of what you might think, or do"

Though you cant see, Vincent looks puzzled under his mask, you can tell. he signs again.

'Why did you leave- what were you afraid of me for?'

Your eyes water and you look down, arms wrapping around your torso.

"Vincent, I.." the words get stuck in your throat and he moves to cup your cheeks but you grab his hands before he can. You don't think you can say it. Your trembling hands guid his callused palms to your stomach. His eye widens when he feels the protrusion there.

There was no way. He stiffens and stays like that for what feels like forever until your shoulders start to shudder with sobs. Vincent snaps out of it and panics, trying to calm your cries. He moves to embrace you again before frantically signing to you.

'No please darling, don't cry. I'm not upset- i could never be upset with you'

You sniffle, "I'm sorry i left you. It was only meant to be for one day- to go to the clinic but then i found out i was pregnant and then i got scared that you wouldn't want it so i went to a hotel to try to think about what to do but i never manages to figure anything out."

Vincent feels his heart crack a little bit at your distress. He should've been more intuitive- maybe let you know that he'd care about you no matter what.

He gently puts his hands back on your tummy and looks at you. He doesn't even need to sign for you to know what he was trying to say.

'It'll be ok'

Lester Sinclair

Lester was a good guy, you knew that.

To you, he was perfect.

He never even raised his voice at you, and you're sure that if he even scratched you, he'd feel horrible for days.

And if you were honest, you still missed him.

You knew what he was doing was wrong but you still loved him.

Before you can stop yourself you're calling his mobile, waiting for the beeps.

He picks up after a single ring, like always.

~~~~~

"Heh-hey hun!" he tries his best but you can hear he's happy that you called him. "Is everythin' ok up there?"

You had to admit, it was sweet that even now, he cares about things like that.

"Hey, Les..." you don't really know what to say but he's patient, "Sorry im not really sure why i called."

"It's ok, please, i ain't gonna complain" you can almost hear his smile through the phone.

"I'm sorry about what i said-"

he cuts you off, "No, no you're right. What we was doin' was horrible, i know. But i- i wantcha to know that i told Bo that i ain't doing his dirty work anymore."

That surprised you. You know that Bo's a strong, stubborn character and Lester wants nothing than to impress his older brothers. This was big.

"I'm glad, Lester. Just stay outta trouble." You tease him and he giggles.

"I'm tryin' my best out here." an uncomfortably long period of silence takes over the line before he speaks again. "Jonesy misses ya... she just sorta stares at the door at night, expectin' ya to come walk through it."

It sounds sort of sad when he says it like that, he realises. "Not that I'm tryin to trick ya into comin back, im jus' sayin' that maybe you'd like me to bring her up to you some time." It's a ploy so that he can see you again, he knows.

"Oh no, Lester don't go all the way out here to let me play with YOUR dog, thats unfair." you pout through the phone and he laughs again.

"I don't know- i'd get to see you again, so it seems like a good trade, hun."

You dont know what got into you.

"Lester, I miss you."

The line is quiet again for a few seconds before he replies, "Really?"

"I know you've done some horrible stuff, but i still love you, and i dont know, if you're tellin' the truth about leaving that stuff behind, then maybe we can make it work."

He fights back a squeal of delight when he hears that.

"You stay right there, Huneysuckle, I'll be coming to get you as soon as i can." you laugh at his enthusiasm, "I'm getting in the truck, ill see you soon!"

[wonbin-truther]

too nice haechan x reader - 791 words angst, mentions of drinking and bars, reader fumbles the bag (haechan) again

haechan watches across the bar as you down your 10th shot of some clear liquid that another man had bought for you. he watches as your lips that were once his move against the lips of another man. mark walks up to his side and groans, "dude she's not worth it. i don't even know why she's here." he was right. you lived on the other side of town. a part of him wonder and hoped you were here because you knew he would be too. mark nudged him to get his attention, "how about we go to karaoke." haechan broke his gaze away from your figure, walking out the door with a mans hand in your back-pocket. "sure," he downed the last of his drink. it seemed as if you followed him everywhere making haechan wonder which god he pissed off in a past life. the next time was in the rain. there you sat on the swing of the old playground as the cold pellets hit you, looking down at your feet. hyuck also wonders in that moment what magnetic force is in him as he walks up to you, placing his umbrella over you. the rain hits him and soaks through his sweater but he doesnt care as your eyes looked up and met his. even as the rain beaded down from your hair onto your face he could tell you had been crying. he put his hand out to you and you took it, following him to his house. you sat with your head down as he lifted the wet top over your head, replacing it with a dry out. you let him dry your hair with a towel and lead you too his room. you sat on the edge of his bed and the tears flowed again, "i'm so sorry." he didnt say anything as he gathered a pillow and blanket for himself. "hyuck im so sorry. you're too nice for me," you continued. he paused to look at you before retreating to the couch for the night, "i know". when he woke up the next day you were nothing but a fleeting memory and crumbled up bed sheets at the foot of his bed. he expected a little more from a girl he dated for nearly 4 years, maybe a note or a text. he looked at his phone to no notification. he wondered for a moment if he blocked you again but remembered you remained unblocked after he drunk called you 5 times last month (none of which you answered).

he hated this run around he always did with you. here he was, drunk in your car as you drove to your apartment. he blabbered in the passengers seat about how he missed you and you sat in silence as your eyes were locked on the road. you swore you had mark's number saved. you paced around your living room as haechan was asleep on your couch. you couldn't have him here. nothing good ever came of haechan in your close proximity. you had broken it off with him last summer. you can't place why it happened. when your close friends asked you what happened you shrugged and just replied "the spark burned out". it was a lie. even as he laid on your couch drooling on a pillow, smelling like cheep wiskey and another girls perfume, you felt nothing but pure love. it was something inside you that you could never tell anyone about. a little voice saying he was too good for you. you never deserved him. why would someone like you be with someone like him? you let the little voice win. no matter who you made out with at bars or who walked you up to your doorstep and made sure you got in safe, they would never be lee haechan. you thanked everything when you finally found marks number. he picked up on the second ring. "uhh who is this?" his voice was sleep deprived "hi sorry it's yn. um can you please pick up haechan" "yea give me a second" and he hung up mark lee was just as you had remembered. he had a certain boyish charm you could never quite put your finger on but pulled you towards him. he walked into your house and slung haechan's arm over his shoulder, hoisting him up. "thank you for keeping him safe." "please dont mention he was here in the morning" mark gave you a soft smile as he bid you goodnight and left. he was true to his word and you didn't a text or call from haechan in the morning. the disappointment settled in your gut as you reminded yourself he was too good for you.

[poraphia]

Halloooo ^^ ..

I read a lot of ur stories and now Im in love with fictions :3 (might need therapy cuz of it but nvm that)

U an amazing writer <3

(Im pretty new to Tumblr so extremely sorry if this ends up where it shouldnt be or smth like that lol)

But anywaaay , Can I pls request a Wilbur Soot angst fic :D ?

Im going thru THAT phase rn so anything would be awsome really ..

Maybe a fight (unintentionally) breaks out between Wilby and reader and Wilby accidentally raises his voice and reader gets scared ? I know its a cheesy story and people might'a written before but I barely find Wilbur angst fics anymore :(((

Anyway , Thank u so much .. U dont have to write any of this if ur uncomfortable .. Hope ur doing okay :> .. Take care n' bye :D

"You’re Being Too Loud."

➵ PAIRING! cc!stressed!wilbur x stressed!reader

➵ CREATING! 10.12.23 | 1444 words

➵ CONTAINING! angst to comfort, wilbur is ignoring reader, reader lowkey has attachment issues, reader sensitive to loud noises, wilbs is overworked

➵ SAYING! hiii @toastyliltoasts41 welcome to tumblr! sorry for the late late response but i hope you enjoy :) personally going thru this myself especially w so much work ive been doing recently and also im noise sensitive (literally walk around with noise canceling headphones all the time). thank u for all the nice words!

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

I slipped off my shoes and placed them near the doorstep. My socks glided against the furnished planks as I slid to our shared office. I dragged my backpack behind me, feeling the weight of my laptop, notebooks, and textbooks. Once I made it to the room, I placed my bag on the chair and unpacked all my belongings onto my desk.

Today was too exhausting, and the one thing I dreaded doing right now was to open my laptop and be faced with more work. Instead of taking my laptop with me, I grabbed my phone and dragged myself out of the office and into the bedroom.

After changing into my loungewear, I snuggled myself into silk sheets, shivering a little from the cold fabric wrapping around my body. Ignoring the chill, I held up my phone with both of my hands and swiped open the messaging app to text my boyfriend. I glanced at the past messages, realizing that Wil hasn’t responded to any of my messages from this afternoon. The last time he texted was this morning when was telling me what time he would come home. Sighing, I typed in another message in hopes that this time he would respond.

“Hey, I’m home now. Too tired to cook food today. Let’s order something when you get home? <3”

I clicked send before clicking off my phone and placing it on the nightstand. My eyes fluttered close, and slowly, I drifted off to sleep.

I woke to the sound of footsteps clicking against the ground. With my hands I pushed my body up to examine the noise. From the corner of my eye, I caught a glimpse of a familiar tall figure headed toward the office. A small smile formed on my face as I carefully got out of bed.

My bare freet pressed against the cream colored carpet. I wandered around the hallway before finding the office door slightly ajar. Through the crack I saw Wil hunched over his computer. His sweater’s sleeves were rolled up to his elbows and his fingers hastily clicked against his keyboard. Quietly, I approached him from behind, throwing my arms around his shoulders and hugging him close.

Wil quietly hummed in response. I titled my head, pecking his cheek, but he didn’t react and instead his eyes stayed glue to his screen. My eyebrows slightly furrowed, but nonetheless, I continued hugging him.

“Hey, sweetheart.” I mumbled in a croaky voice.

“Hey,” he replied blankly.

“Did you see my texts earlier today?”

“Uh huh,” He said absently. “I saw the message after I ate though. Sorry.”

I felt my chest tighten a little, hurting at his absence. All I wanted in the moment was a hug and a conversation about each other’s day, but instead, he was absorbed in his work and couldn’t even make the effort to look at me.

“Wil, can we talk?” I asked.

He slightly shook his head. “No, not right now, honey. This video has to be out by tomorrow and one of our editors hasn’t been feeling well so I took up the work.” He explained briefly.

“But you’re already busy working at the studio…” I mumbled.

“I know, but I can finish this up by tonight. Just give me some time, please.” He requested. My heart skipped a little, feeling like a dog that had been put aside for a brand new puppy.

“Wil, you haven’t talked to me all day. Could we at least just have dinner together?” I nearly pleaded.

“I already said I just ate, (y/n).” Wil said rather sternly. “Please can I just finish my work?”

“But I want to spend time with you.” I said, speaking up a little bit. I unwrapped my hands away from him and stepped back a little. He turned his chair a little to face me with one of his hands still on the keyboard. He looked up at me, a stressed but furrowed expression on his face. I wrapped my arms around myself, hugging my own chest.

“I want to spend time with you but you’re basically prioritizing this work over me.” I said again. “I understand that sometimes you have too much work. I understand that. But we haven’t been spending time with each other for the past few days and it’s driving me crazy. I just want to relax with you, Wil.” I bit the insides of my cheek. Wil, in turn, sighed and rubbed his nosebridge.

“I’m not prioritizing work over you, (y/n), I’ve just been busy lately and this argument is just stressing me out even more.” His words were spat out like venom.

“Which is why I’m asking that we just spend time together! This isn’t just for me, but it’s for you too.” I threw my hands up, frustrated. “Wilbur, we can relax together! You’re acting like this isn’t stressing me out either!”

Wil got up from his seat now. His tall figure nearly towered over me, making me slightly cower. “I DON’T WANT TO FUCKING RELAX RIGHT NOW, (Y/N)! I HAVE SHIT TO DO!”

I stepped back, nearly stumbling. Without realizing, tears were running down my burning hot cheeks. The air went cold and I felt this hallowing emptiness surrounding me. A ringing was bouncing in my eardrums and goosebumps ran through my arms and legs. He looked down at me, eyes wide as if he just realized what words escaped his lips. Before he could say a word, I walked out of the office and back into bed, slamming the door behind me.

I jumped into the mattress and buried my face deep under the sheets. I quietly sobbed into the fabric, not caring for the tears darkening the silk. It didn’t take but a couple minutes later to hear the creaking of the door and soft footsteps approaching the bed. I lied still under the covers as I felt the mattress dip from a newfound weight.

Wil sat there for a while. His knee shook a little, making a tiny thumping noise against the floor. I was turned away from him with his lower back lightly pressing against the heel of my foot.

“(y/n)..?” He softly called out for me. “Are you awake..?”

I shifted a little, moving my foot away from him to let him know I was listening. He sighed with his leg coming to a stop.

“(y/n), I’m sorry. I—I’ve just been really stressed, but that gives me no right to start yelling at you. And me being really busy has been taking away the time with you.” He paused a little bit, presumably licking his lips. I still didn’t have the courage to move. Instead I laid still, not daring to move. “I’m really sorry, (y/n).” He apologized again.

A deep sigh huffed from my nostrils before I sat up, letting the sheets cascade off my body. He turned his head to look at me, his feet still planted on the ground. I looked into his eyes, seeing the pained looked deep in those irises.

“Y-You know I don’t like loud noises.” I croaked out, my voice cracking with my words. He slowly nodded, bringing his legs up on the bed to fully face me. “And I really don’t like it when you yell. Please, I really just wanted to spend time together.”

“And we will spend time together.” He grabbed my hands and cradled them in his. “I’ll message Elodie right now if she could finish the work. But right now, it’s going to be me and you together, okay? We can maybe catch up on our show and I’ll order some food for you, okay?” He reassured, rubbing his thumb against the back of my hand. “Maybe I’ll steal some fries from you every once in a while.”

I giggled a little. “Noooo! Get your own food!” I whined, lightly pushing his shoulder. He chuckled in response before wrapping his arms around me, pulling me close to his chest. I wrapped my arms around his torso in response, breathing in his scent.

“I just missed you, Wil, you know that…” I softly whispered. He nodded, running his fingers through my hair.

“I missed you too. I promise I do.” He whispered back. His voice was low and deep but he made sure to maintain his volume. It was soothing, something I could fall asleep to,

and most importantly,

it wasn’t loud.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

a / n ~ hope you enjoyeddd notes of all kind are super duper appreciated! if you wanna be in a taglist or an anon my inbox is always freee :D ALSO SURPRISE!! TWO ONESHOTS IN ONE DAY I AM ON A ROLLLL