don't hold your breath(nobody's home)
ft. leon kennedy x fem!reader
cw: 18+ content, dead dove, uncle-niece incest, non-con, loss of virginity, very minor blood description, forced alcohol consumption, alcoholism from leon ofc, reader gets slapped, age gap, guilt, one threat, fingering, p in v, non-consensual creampie, crying, idk leon feels entitled cause his brother sucks, reader hinted at having nice tits idk
a/n: sorry if this sucks ass... my motivation for writing has been non-existent w real life stuff n all the drama so... i feel like this is awful but here we are. title from razzmatazz by idkhbtfm... not proofread i'm sorry </3
word count: 1.9k words
Leon knew he had a drinking problem. He just hadn't realised it had gotten this bad. He couldn't even get his dick up with viagra anymore. He frowns as he looks down at the brunette he was planning to fuck, tempted to try and just push it in soft.
He ends up just kicking her out to drown his sorrows. He wasn't dealing with this shit tonight, not when he was seeing his asshole brother tomorrow. Pretty wife, perfect kids. His job pays better than Leon's ever will, and he didn't need to undergo years of trauma. Lucky bastard.
Leon does what he does best that night and drinks enough whiskey so he can pass out without worrying about the nightmares coming to ruin his night.
✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺ . ✦
He hasn't seen you in a good six years. You were still playing with dolls and shit when he last visited. Makes him feel stupid when he brings you a plushie as a gift. Clearly he forgot how time worked, cause he still expected you to be thirteen. You still hug him and say thank you, sweet as ever. When his brother said he'd be watching the house and looking after you, he didn't expect to see you so... grown. Too old to need a babysitter, really. Even if your parents are gonna be gone for a week.
He gulps as his hands settle on your hips, trying to prevent you from pressing against his hardening cock. Down boy. At least his dick still works. It just took his college-aged niece to get it up. Doesn't help that you've got your tits smooshed against his chest.
Therapy was gonna be a doozy this week.
He could only pray that this doesn't turn into anything. The last thing he needed was his dick being the thing that got him thrown into prison for doing something stupid to you, no matter how cute that body of yours is. That's a new one, he thinks, mentally slapping himself for even thinking about touching you like that. He'd never do it, of course. That's sick, and he knows it. He's just so frustrated. And you're hot. A total babe. Somehow, you managed to get a better rack than your mom. Must be the Kennedy genes coming in. Leon's got tits for days.
He knew he had a drinking problem, but he never thought he'd lose himself this much. He never thought about hurting anyone. He's not a bad guy. It's just that every time he tried to be with someone, he just couldn't get his body to react the way he wanted. That's what the oxytocin was for, he thought, already thinking about taking a swig of whiskey from the flask in his pocket. If only that fucking stuff worked on him. The part of his brain that controlled his cock seemed to be permanently on vacation, and his wires clearly got crossed somewhere if he wants to fuck his own blood.
Whatever. He could get through a week alone with his niece without any trouble. He's faced worse monsters than the ones making themselves present in his mind right now. He'd keep his distance, and all would be okay.
✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺ . ✦
That didn't work. Of course it didn't. You were just as clingy with him as you were when you were a kid, following him around like a lost puppy. He's convinced he's clutching the glass of whiskey in his hand hard enough to shatter it as you curl up against his side. His cock is throbbing, and he seriously hopes you don't notice how the fabric of his jeans is getting a little strained.
You really need to stop with those tits. He's gonna lose it if they brush his arm one more time. He's not sure what it is about you, particularly, that has him acting like a teenage virgin again, but his self-control is wavering by the second. He hasn't paid a single second of attention to the movie he was meant to be watching to keep his mind off of you.
Fuck this.
He takes a swig of whiskey that drains half the liquid in his cup in one gulp. Liquid courage and all that. Maybe he'd drunk a little too much while he was here, ‘cause his brain clearly isn't working right. Not when he's pinning you to the couch, kissing your neck despite your protests.
“Leon… Leon, what're you doing?” You force out, small hands pressing at his chest as if you'd be able to knock him off. Cute. He'd fought creatures six times your size. You didn't stand a chance.
He starts undressing you, and you start writhing and crying, hitting his chest with clenched fists. He swallows the lump that builds in his throat, wiping the tears that fall down your cheeks.
“Shh… it's okay, I'm… I'm gonna take care ‘f you.” He murmurs, his voice slightly slurred from how much he'd drunk. You cry even harder when he presses a finger into you, making the guilt rise up faster in him. That's not fair. He's being nice. God didn't bless him with much, but at least he gave him a fat cock. You should feel lucky he's prepping you. Not making him feel bad.
“Hey.” He warns, shoving another finger in just to shut you up. You finch when he scissors you open. Poor thing. “That's enough. One more complaint for you, and I'll just force myself in.”
Shit. Now he really does feel like a monster. He's not drunk enough to handle the pure terror on your face at his words. He fumbles on the coffee table with his free hand as he lazily pumps into you with the other. Glass? No. Bottle.
Maybe you need some, too. Get you nice and pliant so you'll take his dick without bitching. Not a bad idea. He twists the cap off with his teeth, gulping some of the liquid down himself. He takes another mouthful before leaning down to kiss you, spitting the liquid into the back of your throat. He keeps your mouth on yours even as you try to jerk away, making sure you swallow it.
You really are adorable as you start coughing and spluttering. Such a sweet thing, you probably hadn't even drunk before. He lifts the bottle to your mouth, pouring some more into your mouth before setting it down, covering your mouth. “Swallow.”
He starts thumbing at your clit as he fingers you, relishing in the ways your whimpers turn into soft moans, your hips bucking against his hand. He manages to coax an orgasm out of you with a few more touches, a big smile spreading across his face.
“There we go, sweetie. See, that wasn't so bad, was it?” He coos, unbuttoning his jeans. The sound of the zipper has your eyes widening in horror, and he tuts softly. “What're you giving me that look for? It's your turn to take care of me now.”
There goes the begging and pleading again. It has his brows pinching together as a frown tugs at his lips. You really are his brother's kid. So goddamn ungrateful. He just took care of you, and now you just want him to… what? Fist his dick in the guest room?
He smacks you so hard your head snaps to the side, your breaths coming out in short gasps. You look better like that, tears stinging your eyes but your body completely limp. He can see the fight draining out of your eyes.
“I was gonna be nice.” He mumbles, brows furrowing as he lines his tip up with your entrance, forcing himself inside in one thrust. He groans loudly, shuddering as your tight heat envelops him. His eyes look down, locked onto your cunt as he fucks into you with long strokes. He freezes when he notices blood. He's not sure if he's happy or disgusted that he's your first. No wonder you put up such a fight.
You keep weakly begging him to stop, but your pussy is gushing all over him. It's not his fault he can't stop – you're giving him the hottest look he's ever seen, and your puffy cunt is so fucking greedy for his cock, sucking him back in everytime he starts to pull out.
“S-sorry… I'm so sorry…” He grunts, picking up the pace of his thrusts, groaning at the sound of your punched out moans as he drives into you with as much force as he can muster. You almost sound like you're enjoying it, but you're still fucking crying and he can't take it. His heart hurts.
“Baby, please…” He whispers, squeezing his eyes shut so he doesn't have to see the betrayal on your face. His arms tremble as he holds himself up, sloppily fucking into you. “I'm sorry… just stop cryin’, please…”
Every time his hips smack the fat of your ass, you're moaning out a ‘please’. With his eyes shut, he can pretend you're begging for more. That you like this. That is, until you start saying ‘stop’. He winces, but the movement of his hips doesn't falter.
“Fuck, baby… please stop begging.” He pleads, throwing his head back as his tip kisses your cervix. He whimpers as it makes you tighten around him, angling his thrusts to hit that spot each time he fully sheaths himself inside of you.
“I-I can't stop…you feel so… fuck. So fucking good. M'so close.” He groans. He can't even find the strength to pull out anymore. He buries himself balls deep in your cunt, grinding himself into your tight heat.
“L-Leon… please.” You say weakly, chest heaving with heavy breaths as panic sets in, your hands pushing at his chest. “Y-you gotta pull out, you can't… you can't.”
“What?” He breathes out, cracking his eyes open to look at you again. He looks genuinely confused. Why would he ever pull out when you felt so good? He can't bring himself to. “Baby, no. I'm cumming inside of you. Can't pull out now.”
That seems to bring your fight back. You start struggling under him again, punching him with all your strength. Luckily, that's not a lot. Especially when you're sluggish from your first time drinking and getting fucked. It's Leon's lucky day.
“Shit, baby. Don't look at me like that.” Or do. He's gonna cum if you keep staring up at him with that wide-eyed expression. “No need to be so scared, princess. I just… shit. Can't help myself.”
Doesn't take longer than a minute after that for him to finish. He buries his face in your neck, whining as he cums. His cock kicks inside of you, the warmth of his release filling every inch of you. You start sobbing all over again, slumping weakly against the couch.
He lies on top of you, his weight pressing you down into the couch. He pets your hair like you're a doll, his fingers carding through your hair.
“I'm sorry, baby. Forgive me. I'll be so good. Do whatever you want. Didn't mean it.” He murmurs, kissing your cheek over and over as if he's trying to get you to relax. He keeps it up until you fall asleep, wrapping you up in his arms.
When you wake up in the morning, you're fully dressed in your bed. You almost think it's a dream until you feel the dull throbbing between your legs.
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Hello, how are you? Could i request an angsty but smutty and fluff fic of Elijah and reader where they get into a fight but makeup in the end?
Stubborn
18+ ---- {Masterlist} {Tag-List}
You and Elijah get into a fight about his protective nature. He thinks you are too stubborn, and you think he's too controlling. How will you resolve your issues?
♡♡ Thanks for the request anon! I don't know if this is very angsty, but it certainly is very smutty ♡♡
4.1k words - Warnings: smuttttt, very little plot, Cami being the best, dom!elijah (you like him in control? well... here you go...), fingering, squirting, angry sex...
"I'm not some damsel in distress, I don't need your protection!" You yelled, louder than you meant to. Arguing with Elijah was always a test of your restraint. He made it so damn difficult, he was always calm and composed. Sometimes you just wanted to push his buttons.
"Darling, I have so many enemies, and you're not invincible." He tried to reason.
"Don't patronize me, I know that, but you treat me like I can't take care of myself!" You snapped, pacing around the living room. You tried to calm yourself down, you didn't want to say something you'd regret, but the anger bubbling inside you wouldn't go away.
"I'm not trying to patronize you, I just think you could make better decisions." He said softly, his eyes following you as you paced.
"It's like you're treating me like a child! We're supposed to be equals, and you always talk to me like you're the parent and I'm the kid!" Your voice cracked a little, when you got angry you also would cry. You hated that about yourself.
Elijah could see the pain in your eyes, you were his soft and sweet y/n. He just wanted to protect you. He tried to approach you, to hold you and comfort you, but you pushed him away.
His actions made you feel weak, and foolish, here was a man that faced countless dangers, he was centuries old, he fought vampires and werewolves, witches and even his own siblings. And you were just this fragile thing, this tiny human he had to watch out for. It made you feel so weak and pathetic, all your insecurities bubbling up inside you, the tears falling down your cheeks.
You stormed away from him, and he let you, because he knew if he pushed you, it would just make things worse.
You had been dating Elijah for two months now, and in that time, he had taken on the role of a protective boyfriend. You liked being taken care of, but sometimes it felt like he didn't see you as an equal.
You had been arguing about this a lot lately. You didn't like being treated like you were breakable. You weren't. You had dealt with plenty of dangers in your life, and he didn't give you enough credit.
He was a stubborn man, and you were a stubborn woman, so the tension kept rising, until you finally had to get away from him. So you decided to stay at Cami's for a few days, she was a good friend, and she didn't judge you. She could always use some company anyways.
"So, he's a bit over protective, huh?" Cami asked. You were curled up on her couch, drinking a glass of wine. You were both having a night in, wearing pajamas and doing self-care.
"Yeah, and I know he means well, but I really value my independence, it's not something I'm willing to give up," You admitted.
"Do you feel like he doesn't respect you?" She asked, taking a sip of her own wine.
"No, he does, I know that, but it feels like he doesn't trust me." You said, looking down into your glass.
Cami stood and grabbed some snacks, tossing you a bag of your favorite chips. "I don't think that's it, I think he's scared. Scared to lose you. He's been through so much, and he's lost a lot of people he's loved." She said, plopping back down on the couch.
You let out a long sigh, you knew of his pain, but it was still hard to hear out loud. He held all of his trauma inside him, and sometimes it was difficult for him to share, even with you.
"I love him Cami, it's just hard. I've always had to take care of myself, I guess I just have a hard time accepting someone wanting to do that for me." You said softly, feeling the tears brimming your eyes.
"Have you told him that? That you love him?" She asked.
"No, I... I want him to say it first." You admitted.
Cami chuckled and took a long sip of her wine, then grabbed the remote and turned on a movie. It was one of those sappy romances that were so over the top and cheesy. But that's why they were so fun to watch.
"Just tell him. I'm sure he loves you too." Cami said, her gaze fixed on the tv.
"I know," you sighed, "I just want him to initiate, his so reserved, and I'm tired of always being the one who has to take the first step." You grumbled.
"He's probably worried about scaring you away, or making things awkward, you know how he can be." She said, turning to look at you, giving you a comforting smile.
"Yeah, I guess." You mumbled, curling up further on the couch.
Cami gave you a reassuring squeeze on the shoulder and the two of you continued to watch your movie, the sappy love story playing out in front of you.
"So," she said, breaking the silence, "how's the sex?"
You choked on your wine, sputtering a bit before regaining your composure. Cami was a little shit sometimes.
"The sex is amazing," You said, smirking at her. "But... I'm always the one initiating it. Sometimes I think his biggest problem is that he's too gentlemanly."
"Well, what have you done to make him be more spontaneous?" Cami asked, grabbing the bottle of wine and pouring more in her glass.
"Me?" You squeaked. "What did I do?"
"Maybe he doesn't want to take control because you never gave him permission." She asked.
You sat and thought about that. You were usually the one who would start things. You initiated kisses, hugs, hand holding, even the sex. Elijah was so reserved, so proper, he didn't want to overstep. It made you feel like he didn't desire you, which was ridiculous, you had seen him undressing you with his eyes.
"That's fair." You said. "I didn't realize he was waiting for permission."
"Men are idiots." Cami stated, making you laugh.
"Sometimes," you said, chuckling. "I just want to see him be the one to initiate, you know?"
"I know." She said, leaning back on the couch.
You finished the bottle of wine and watched the rest of the movie. It was so sweet, the ending was a happy one, the couple was together and they were in love. You wished life was that simple.
The next morning, you woke up with a pounding headache and a dry mouth. Cami was already awake, making coffee.
"Ugh," you groaned, rubbing your temples. "I should have drank more water,"
"I tried to remind you." Cami said, smirking at you.
"Well, excuse me for being drunk," You replied.
She handed you a mug of coffee, and you sipped it slowly, letting the warmth of the drink soothe your throat.
"Thanks for letting me stay here," you said.
"You know I don't mind." She replied, sitting on the couch next to you.
You leaned your head on her shoulder, sighing.
"I love him, but I think I need some space. Some time to myself." You said softly.
"I think that's a good idea." She replied.
"Are we doing the right thing? Am I being selfish?" You asked, chewing your bottom lip.
"No, you're not. You're being realistic. You need some space and some time to yourself." She replied.
"I'm going to go to the compound and pick up some clothes and stuff." You said.
"Want me to come with you?" She asked.
"No, that's ok, I think I can handle myself." You replied, smiling at her.
She gave you a reassuring squeeze and you got up, feeling a bit better after your talk.
"Thanks Cami, I'll call you later," You said, grabbing your keys and heading out.
Elijah was sitting at the kitchen counter, drinking a glass of whiskey, and he had a book open in front of him, though he wasn't reading it. His mind was too preoccupied. He missed you terribly, it had only been a couple days, but it felt like an eternity.
He thought back to the last conversation you had had. You had stormed off, and he hadn't chased after you, because he knew you needed time to cool down. He wanted to tell you he was sorry, but he knew you didn't want to hear it right now.
You were the best thing that had ever happened to him, and he didn't want to lose you. He was used to losing people, he had spent centuries running, he had been betrayed, lied to, hurt. But he had never met anyone quite like you.
You were sweet, funny, smart, and caring. He had fallen for you quickly, but he had been too afraid to admit it. Like if he said it out loud, everything would fall apart.
But in your absence he realized his mistake, and how foolish he had been. No more wasting time, he needs to tell you that he loves you, despite how stubborn you are.
You walked into the compound, it was eerily quiet, you hoped Elijah was out. So you could just quickly grab your things and leave.
You didn't expect him to be waiting for you in the kitchen, his face was serious, but his eyes were full of emotion.
"Elijah, I'm just here to pick up some clothes," You said, trying to walk past him. He stepped in front of you, blocking your way.
"We need to talk." He said, his tone firm.
"No, we really don't, I just want my things," You said, trying to move around him. He moved again, his arms crossed, and his face was stern.
"Stop treating me like a child! Let me by!" You yelled. He let you pass him and you ran up to your bedroom, grabbing some clothes.
He followed you and stood in the doorway, watching you, his eyes boring into your skin.
"Stop looking at me like that," You said, throwing some clothes into a bag.
"I hate seeing you upset," He replied, his voice soft.
"I'm not upset, I'm just angry." You said, moving past him to go into the bathroom, grabbing your toothbrush.
He followed you and leaned against the doorframe, watching you gather your toiletries.
"Please, let's just talk." He pleaded.
You sighed, looking up at him, his expression was pained, his jaw was clenched. You could see the desperation in his eyes. Your anger was still in charge though and you pushed past him again and started packing your things on the bed.
"So talk, I'm listening," You said harshly, still not looking at him.
He took a deep breath, his fists clenched, and he closed his eyes for a moment, composing himself. He knew he couldn't get through to you when you were angry like this.
"You're right," He said, opening his eyes and looking at you. "I'm sorry. I haven't been treating you fairly. I've been trying to protect you. But you are being stubborn and you're not letting me explain,"
You turned to look at him, trying to ignore how good he looked. His hair was messy, like he had been running his hands through it, and he was wearing a black shirt, his sleeves rolled up, and his tie was hanging loose around his neck. A part of you wanted to just give in and kiss him, but the other part of you was still pissed off.
He could hear your heart beating faster, your body temperature rising. He knew that he had an effect on you, and he was enjoying seeing you get flustered. He gave you a crooked smirk, and took a step closer to you, and you backed up, hitting the bed.
You took a shaky breath, trying to steady your breathing. You were angry, but his presence always made your body react, and your head spin.
"So stubborn," he growled, pushing you onto the bed.
"Fuck you, Elijah," you hissed, trying to sit up.
"Not today," he smirked, pinning you down with his weight.
"I said, fuck you," You growled, pushing on his chest.
He chuckled and leaned down, his face inches from yours. His eyes were dark, his lips curled up in a devilish smile.
"Say please," He purred, his breath ghosting over your lips.
You let out a frustrated groan, and he kissed you, hard. You whimpered, and he slipped his tongue into your mouth, exploring it, tasting you.
"Is this what you want? To be fucked?" He whispered, his lips grazing your ear.
"No," you lied, trying to squirm away from him, but his grip was too tight.
"Don't lie, darling, your body betrays you," He growled, nibbling your earlobe before leaving a trail of hickeys down your neck.
He suddenly tore the shirt off of you, making you gasp. He grabbed your wrists and pinned them above your head, his other hand moving to your waist, pulling your skirt off.
"Eli- my clothes!" You whined, but he just chuckled, his eyes roaming your body.
"I'll buy you new ones," He smirked, nipping at your jaw, then capturing your lips with his.
"You can't just-" you were cut off by him biting your lip. You groaned and he released you, his hands roaming your body.
"Stop being so stubborn," He whispered, his fingers brushing over your lace panties, making you shiver.
"I'm not," you argued, biting back a moan as his fingers teased your clit.
He laid on his side next to you, opening your legs and pushing your panties out of the way. He grazed over your clit with the pad of his index finger, teasing you slowly. He loved this, teasing you, torturing you. You were so beautiful when you were desperate for him.
You whined and pushed your hips against his hand, and he pulled his hand away, smirking.
"You're such a tease," You growled, glaring at him.
"You're cute when you're angry," He smiled, his fingers returning to your pussy. He tapped your clit lightly, his lips ghosting over yours. You tried not to react, but it felt so good, this dominant side of him was driving you crazy.
He slid two fingers into you, and began thrusting them slowly. You gasped and arched your back, moaning loudly. Watching your reaction was thrilling, his cock was painfully hard, but he wanted to make you cum first.
"Listen to those sweet sounds," he purred, pumping his fingers in and out of you, curling them just right. “So filthy and wet, the way your body responds, it's like you were made for me."
"You're a fucking asshole," you moaned, trying to buck your hips against his fingers.
"I can stop, if you want," He whispered, his voice dark.
"No," You whimpered, "I-I'm close."
"Oh, I know, darling." He smiled, "You're going to cum, and I'm going to make you cum again, and again, until all the stubborn thoughts in your head disappear."
His fingers were pumping fast now, and you couldn't help the noises you were making. Your orgasm was building in such a way that you knew it would be intense. He was right, you were stubborn, you didn't want to give him the satisfaction of hearing you moan, but it was becoming more and more difficult to hold back.
"Eli- wait, your gonna make me-" You stuttered, gasping as he added a third finger, stretching you even more.
"Make a mess?" He purred, curling his fingers just right, hitting your g-spot.
The lewd, wet, squelching noises coming from your pussy were embarrassing, and the fact that he was enjoying them made it worse. He could feel your walls tightening around his fingers, your whole body trembling, you were so close.
He sped up his pace, and he could see the moment when you reached your peak. Your body tensed up, your back arching, and then a loud cry escaped your lips.
Your juices spilled out onto his fingers, covering his hand. It was so much, you had never squirted before, and the look on Elijah's face was pure lust and amusement.
It made you embarrassed and a bit angry and you tried to move away, but he kept his fingers buried deep inside you, not letting you escape.
"Don't be ashamed," He said, kissing your forehead, his fingers moving slowly, causing your legs to tremble.
"I'm not," You panted, glaring at him, trying to suppress a moan.
"Really?" He purred, his eyes locking with yours, "Then why are you blushing?"
He smirked, and you tried to hide your face in the sheets, but he wouldn't let you. He was still smirking, and you were getting angrier.
"I'm not-"
"Shh, love, you can't hide from me," he cooed, his fingers still pumping into you, stretching you out. Building up another climax.
"Eli-fuck," You gasped, the pleasure building.
"That's it, let me hear those pretty sounds," He whispered, his voice husky.
He was still fully clothed, and he hadn't even touched himself, he was only focused on you.
He kept fucking his fingers into you, his thumb circling your clit, making sure every inch of your pussy was being stimulated.
Your body was trembling, and you could feel yourself getting close again, you pushed your heels into the bed, trying to get away, but he didn't stop, he just kept going, his pace relentless.
"I can't- oh fuck-," You gasped, arching your back as the orgasm crashed over you. Your wetness soaked his hand and the bed below.
Elijah pulled his fingers out, bringing them up to his mouth and licking them clean. Then he kissed you, his tongue pushing past your lips, tasting all of you.
You tried to glare at him, but he was now kissing your neck, his free hand moving down to cup your breast, teasing your nipples.
"I'm still mad at you," You panted, trying not to moan.
"I know," He smirked, "And I'm not finished with you."
He grabbed your thighs, spreading your legs, and settled between them, his eyes roaming over your body.
"Such a pretty thing," He murmured, tracing patterns on your skin.
He took ahold of your waist, pulling you towards him, and began to grind against your wet pussy, making you whimper.
"You're so sensitive, baby," He cooed, his lips brushing over your collarbone.
You could feel his erection straining against his pants, and you could tell he was enjoying this just as much as you were. He undid his belt, pulling it out of the loops, and tossing it to the floor.
He pulled your arms above your head, his hand gripping your wrists. He unzipped his pants and took his cock out, pressing it against your entrance.
"You're already soaked for me," He whispered, kissing you deeply.
You moaned into the kiss, and he pushed his cock into you, making you whimper. He was so thick, and his length filled you completely, making your body tremble.
He began to thrust into you, his pace steady, and he buried his face in the crook of your neck, his lips grazing over your skin.
"I'm not a toy," You managed to say, your voice strained.
"No, you're not, you're mine," He growled, his hips slamming into yours, his cock hitting all the right spots.
"Fuck," You gasped, arching your back.
His grip on your wrists tightened, and he spread your legs even wider. He grinded his hips slowly, wanting to draw out your pleasure for as long as possible.
You could feel the pressure building, and it was becoming harder to concentrate, all you could focus on was his cock, his weight on top of you, the way he was looking at you.
"Say it," He growled, his hips moving faster now. "Tell me you're mine."
"I'm yours," You moaned, your voice cracking, your resolve breaking with every deep stroke.
The sound of his cock sliding in and out of your pussy filled the room, mixed with your moans and gasps, and the way the bed was creaking. He knew you were close, he could feel your muscles starting to clench around him.
"No no stubborn one, you don't get to cum yet," He growled, nipping at your ear.
He wrapped your legs around his waist, pinning you to the bed. His pace increased and he leaned in to kiss you.
"Come on darling, give in, admit I'm right," He whispered.
"Eli, please," You moaned, your fingers gripping his shirt.
"All you have to do is submit," He cooed, pressing his lips to yours.
You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to resist the urge to give in, but it was so intense and his pace was relentless. He wasn't going to stop, not until you broke.
"Look at the way you open up for me," He said, his voice husky as he grinded against you. "Your needy little pussy, milking my cock, begging to be filled."
You looked down at where his cock was buried inside of you, moving in and out of your pussy. You could see how wet you were, covering his pants and your thighs, making a mess of the sheets.
"Hmm, you like that? Seeing how wet you are, all for me," He whispered, leaning down to kiss you. "Just admit that you are stubborn, and we can cum together."
Your whole body was shaking, your orgasm so close, but you fought it, squeezing your thighs together, trying to close your legs, but he wouldn't let you.
You gave up, you didn't care about the fight anymore, you just wanted to cum, you just wanted him to stop torturing you. You couldn't think straight, everything was too much, his thrusts were deep and hard, his cock was filling you, stretching you out, he knew just how to fuck you.
You couldn't hold back anymore and you finally gave in, submitting to him. "You're right," you gasped, your voice barely audible. "Please, Eli, fuck, I'm sorry, just let me cum."
"Good girl," He groaned, leaning back and spreading your thighs wide, pounding into you. He began to stroke your clit with his thumb, drawing circles, as his hips snapped hard and fast.
It was all too much, and you felt an intense release, your body convulsing, your wetness soaking him, making a mess of the clothes he was still wearing and the bed.
He chuckled, watching your cheeks flush in embarrassment as he fucked you through it. He made you squirt all over him, submitting to him completely.
You were still trembling, trying to catch your breath, you couldn't focus, your whole body was tingling with pleasure, you felt like you were floating.
He kissed you deeply, pressing his body to yours before he let out a low groan and came inside you, his cock twitching. You shuddered, your pussy still sensitive, but he didn't stop, he continued moving his hips slowly.
You could feel the warmth of his cum filling you, his cock throbbing, his breathing uneven. He kissed you softly and slowly, his fingers brushing over your cheek, caressing your face as he pulled out of you.
Now that you had come down from your high, you felt a mixture of frustration and humiliation. You tried to move, but he held you there, a devilish grin plastered on his face.
He shifted onto his back, pulling you on top of him. You straddled him, your body on top of his, your chest pressing against his chest.
"I love you," he whispered, pulling you in for another kiss.
"Eli," you muttered, burying your face in his chest. You couldn't believe he had fucked you in that way, and now he was saying the three words you wanted to hear the most. He was so perfect and so infuriating at the same time. You were angry that he was able to make you give in so easily, but it was worth it. It had never felt so good.
"I love you too, asshole," you replied, making him laugh.
He kissed you once more before wrapping his arms around you, pulling you closer to him. His hands rested on your lower back, tracing lazy circles.
"I'm sorry for being protective, it's not because I don't trust you, it's because I'm afraid of losing you," he said quietly.
"I know, and I'm sorry for saying that you're a control freak," you apologized.
"No you're not," He smirked, kissing you again.
"I'm getting there," you sighed.
He laughed, tracing the curve of your hips with his fingertips. You could feel him harden underneath you, and it turned you on again. And you slowly ground your hips against his, teasing him.
His eyes grew dark, and he placed his hands on your ass, squeezing firmly. "Darling, don't," He said warningly, his voice strained.
You ignored him, rolling your hips, grinding into his lap, you wanted more.
"Don't be so stubborn Eli-,"
You were on your back before you could finish your sentence, your legs spread, his lips on yours.
You were definitely going to fight with him more often…
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A lovely group of people encouraged me to post this so fuck it !!
This is going to be a long post, bear with me, but I have a lot to get off my chest about Angeal. I’m starting with how people’s vitriol towards his character completely glosses over the trauma he endured within the game alone.
I understand that Crisis Core is a flawed game where characters like Genesis, Angeal, and even Zack didn’t translate on screen as well as they could have due to areas of weak writing and the context lost during localization into English. But at the same time, there are aspects of the game—background details—that shed light on why characters act the way they do and this is especially true in Angeal’s case.
Angeal is a character shaped not only by his upbringing in poverty, but also by the heavy emotional burden of depression and the disillusionment that follows his discovery of his origins. His actions might seem erratic or morally ambiguous on the surface, but they’re rooted in his mentality shaped by poverty, the ideals he built to survive it, and the eventual crumbling of those ideals.
When someone is raised poor—in Angeal's case, poor enough where it's implied that they didn't have enough to eat—they grow up with a scarcity mindset that comes with a sense of hyper-responsibility veered towards survival.
We know his father passed from exhaustion, working hard to pay off the Buster Sword, so we get the sense that him witnessing his parents work hard made him internalize the notion that he must work hard both to survive and to uphold honor at any cost.
Angeal’s preoccupation with the concept of honor is a direct reflection of his upbringing. Based on Gillian telling Zack in Banora that the Buster Sword represents their family’s honor, we understand that Angeal grew up being taught to value it. Without material wealth or privilege, Angeal built his identity around his ideals. He frequently reminds Zack that honor is the defining trait of a SOLDIER, showing how he clings to this concept to give his life meaning beyond his origins.
Growing up poor not only teaches you that you are undeserving of basic necessities, but it would teach Angeal to value stability and resources, no matter the moral compromises required to secure them.
The opportunity to join SOLDIER and work for Shinra would've represented a way out of poverty. Shinra offered him a stable future and the means to provide for his mother (maybe even his father, though as I'm writing this, when Angeal's father died hasn't been revealed in the canon timeline. It's very possible that he also saw it as a way to provide and care for his sick father).
Using SOLDIER as a means to escape poverty—despite Hollander’s probable influence, let's be honest—likely became an underlying reason why Angeal didn’t abandon Shinra outright. In his mind, letting go of SOLDIER would mean letting things fall apart—losing resources, security, and a sense of control, which he was already losing with the desertion, the Genesis war, and the degradation.
This mindset also explains Angeal’s relationship with the sword his father gave him, as the Buster Sword represents the culmination of his ideals: hard work, honor, and the tools necessary for survival. But Angeal refuses to use the Buster Sword for fear of causing wear, tear, and rust.
Seeing his father lose his life over the sword, he resolved not to use it unless absolutely necessary, saving his resources until truly needed. It’s not that he’s stingy or nonsensical—this is textbook behavior for someone raised in poverty. He doesn’t want to waste or use up what’s valuable, especially knowing that his father died for it.
He's hyper-aware of his role in supporting others, and we can see this by his deep sense of responsibility toward Zack, like how he saved him in Wutai using the Buster Sword. When he says "You’re a little more important than my sword" I like to think that he means that, above all, he values the people he cares about.
However, the same ideals create tension within him the moment they crumble following his desertion. Not only his sense of honor, but as he learns the truth, his sense of self-worth begins to deteriorate and thus begins the downward spiral of not knowing how to reconcile his nature as a "monster" in his words, with being SOLDIER.
Angeal’s depression is evident throughout Crisis Core, and the degradation of the Jenova cells mirrors the psychological and emotional degradation he experiences (literal implications aside).
The closer he gets to losing his body, the more he loses his sense of purpose and identity, not to mention how the honor he had built his life around was spoiled the minute the people who taught him that were his father, who turned out not to be his biological father at all, and his mother, who lied to him. His entire life. He starved for nothing and lost his father twice.
The depression Angeal experiences is compounded by the trauma of discovering the truth about his birth. Learning that he was created as part of Shinra's experiments, that his mother was complicit in these experiments, and that he is no more than a weapon for corporate interests leaves him rightfully betrayed. In fact, his reaction was tame in comparison to Genesis and Sephiroth.
His mother’s suicide further deepens his trauma and gives us the first major evidence of his suicidal ideation and severely unwell mental state: "My mother did not deserve to live, and neither does her son," which he says instead of explaining what happened/defending himself after Zack assumed he killed her.
This belief that he is unworthy of life stems directly from the revelation that his life was never truly his own but an engineered existence meant to serve Shinra's greed. This statement epitomizes his suicidal ideation, a declaration that he too is undeserving of life, both because of the role he played in perpetuating Shinra’s horrors and the labelling himself as a monster undeserving of life, an unnatural thing that needs to be purged from existence.
I can’t even begin to describe the magnitude of the revelation that the man whose ideals he built his life around, whom he believed was his father, isn’t his father at all but instead Hollander is, who his mother worked with to orchestrate everything that’s happening to him now
Mothers are a central theme in FF7’s world, with Jenova/Lucrecia being at the center of that and their actions’ influence over Sephiroth, but there’s also Cloud grieving his mother’s death at the hands of Sephiroth, Tifa believing that she would see her mother again if she climbed Mt. Nibel, Aerith watching Ifalna die and then being adopted by Elmyra, and so on.
Gillian, from what we can tell, was loving and raised Angeal with care. She likely kissed him to bed each night, comforted and nurtured him in the way a devoted mother would. But the revelation of her involvement in the Jenova Project shattered everything Angeal believed about her. In Angeal's words, her "shame" became unbearable, and he saw her once nurturing presence as a facade hiding deeper lies. Her decision to take her own life after he confronted her about it added to Angeal’s trauma, reinforcing the belief that everything he held dear was built on deception.
I like to think that there was a part of Angeal that carried the guilt of Genesis’ degradation. Maybe he thought that if he hadn’t come between them in the training room, Genesis would’ve been fine—(which I don’t think so. I think there’s a high chance Genesis would’ve gotten hurt either way and that would’ve triggered the degradation).
This is a topic for another time, but I don't think any singular person was to blame for the incident in the training room. They're all equally to blame without it being their fault, because none of them asked to be a part of the Jenova Project. It's ultimately Shinra's fault.
Angeal probably struggled with depression even before the events of Crisis Core. Poverty itself is a destructive force that can cause lasting psychological damage. It has a significant impact on mental health, just like how growing up under Hojo’s abuse and being controlled by Shinra had its effects on Sephiroth. It can and does lead to depression due to the mental, emotional, and often physical (hello, Angeal's father) exhaustion it causes. Even when someone escapes the instability, it still stays with you because by then, you've learned to live in a world that taught you that you didn't deserve to live in it unless you work hard.
And now Angeal doesn't want to live in it for other reasons.
Another thing @ilminnestrone pointed out to me (who, btw, huge shout out for beta’ing this post <3 ), is how his mental state was influenced by the culture of toxic masculinity within the military/ SOLDIER. Just like in the real world, the military environment at Shinra likely placed a heavy emphasis on masculinity, strength, stoicism, and left little to no room for vulnerability lest the operative in question was deemed weak and not at all befitting of the shallow profile of a hero Shinra capitalized on.
In environments like these, Angeal is expected to always be in control, to suppress any emotional or mental struggles, and to uphold an image of unshakable resilience, especially when he was canonically considered to be the spiritual leader of SOLDIER.
This expectation of constant strength absolutely exacerbated whatever pre-existing struggle he had going on—circling back to how being raised in poverty has long lasting effects on mental health. Rather than being able to openly process his feelings about his degradation, his mother’s betrayal, Hollander being his real father, or where he fit in this new reality of his, he was still trapped in a role that demanded he shoulder everything in silence.
Keep in mind that in a culture where admitting weakness is often seen as failure, Angeal’s (and Genesis’) deterioration would’ve been magnified tenfold by the toxic expectation that they maintain an appearance of unwavering strength.
This combined with the rigid ideals Angeal built around honor and the nature of his job must’ve weighed on him for years. The mutation only exacerbated potential doubts that were already there.
Angeal's actions in the narrative are not those of a clear-cut hero or villain. Instead he occupies an in-between space where his moral compass, traumatic experiences and actions inspired by his headspace constantly clash, which is what leads to his label as a hypocrite.
His decision to defect from Shinra and join Genesis is not a simple act of betrayal but rather the result of his overwhelming internal conflict. On the one hand, he wants to get through to Genesis and help him, he's aware that Shinra has betrayed them, but on the other hand, his ingrained sense of duty and loyalty makes it difficult for him to fully break away from the organization and responsibilities he has like, for example, Zack.
He wants to do good but knows that his conception was not a product of good intentions. In his mind he's a monster being pulled in different directions at once. If anything, this is most realistic reaction to what he’s going through in the game.
His behavior becomes erratic as he oscillates between opposing forces—one where he remains loyal to the values he once cherished, and another where he acknowledges the harsh truth— struggling to reconcile his identity as an honorable SOLDIER with a science experiment.
This moral ambivalence is a symptom of his deeper trauma, as he tries to cling to the remnants of his previous beliefs, which is why he’s still enforcing having dreams and honor despite his actions.
Some dialogue from the game where Angeal acknowledges his headspace:
Angeal: I need your help
Zack: Do you?
Angeal:
Zack: Honestly, what are you thinking Angeal?
Angeal: I'm not really sure myself. At times I feel as if my mind is mired in fog.
The scene where he sprouts his wing and jokes about being after world domination is another key glimpse into his mindset. At this point, the joke isn’t entirely a joke—it’s a reflection of his resignation to the role the degradation has cast him in. The line about a monster’s objective being world domination is a bitter acceptance of the fact that, in his mind, he has no choice but to fulfill the destiny that was engineered for him.
He feels trapped. And yet when Zack compares him to an angel, his response is: "Then what should an angel fight for Zack? What do angels dream of?! Angels dream of one thing... To be human."
He wants the cure and the normalcy so badly, but in his mind, the "monstrosity" is something that sets him apart from humanity and a reminder that he is different, degraded, and no longer the man he once believed himself to be.
Angeal's ultimate decision to force Zack to kill him is the culmination of his depression and his struggle to reconcile his identity. He believes that his continued existence is something that needs to be purged, something that poses a danger to those around him, something that shouldn't have existed in the first place.
He wants to pass on the ideals of honor that he once held so dear, even if he feels unworthy of them himself. In his mind, the only way to regain some form of dignity is to die by the hand of someone who still embodies the values he once believed in.
Zack as his student represents the purity of those ideals—untainted by the knowledge of Shinra's experiments and degradation. By having Zack end his life, Angeal seeks not only an escape from his torment but also a way to pass on his legacy to Zack.
His final words: "Protect your honor, always."
Angeal made his dreams clear earlier when he said that an angel's dream is to be human. When he dies, passing the Buster Sword to Zack is not only a way to protect his honor but also a fulfillment of that dream. At that moment, there's nothing more human than dying at the hands of someone else, rather than succumbing to degradation.
This act, while devastating (and yes, extremely traumatic for Zack), is consistent with the psychological profile of someone who has suffered long-term trauma, depression, and suicidal ideation.
Might be controversial but at this point in the rant fuck it: Condemning Angeal’s choices shifts all the sympathy onto others while entirely overlooking the immense suffering he was enduring. People often focus on how his actions impact those around him—Zack, Sephiroth, and others—without ever considering what Angeal himself is going through. All the above mentioned, the shame, the suicidal thoughts brought on by the degradation and his subsequent actions to purge himself from existence, they’re all pushed aside in favor of examining how others are affected. Everyone was affected, yes, and Zack deserves all the sympathy in the world for what he was made to endure in Crisis Core.
But I feel like this erases Angeal’s pain and frames his ultimate decision as a betrayal rather than a desperate act of self-sacrifice driven by his own emotional struggles.
"Oh, but Angeal was a terrible friend, Angeal was a bad mentor, Angeal was a hypocrite." Here’s the thing: If you’re someone who sympathizes with Sephiroth for having a traumatic past that led to a mental breakdown and burning Nibelheim, if you understand Genesis’ destructive actions as a response to degradation, then you can sympathize with Angeal for his turmoil and his position in Crisis Core.
Angeal’s spiral is rooted in a lifetime of hardship—from growing up in poverty to confronting the existential dread of his degradation. He wasn’t just a man falling apart. He was someone trying to uphold the honor he cherished, even as his world and his sense of self crumbled around him and forced that honor he held so dear became hollow.
His actions make sense within the context of his mental state.
I'll end this by saying that this isn't a rant to defend his actions, but rather to defend the mental health aspect that may go overlooked when discussing Angeal, which is such an integral part of his character.
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