#its rough in them streets

[jeremy-knoxs-on-wood]

Andrew vs Sir, ROUND 1! FIGHT!

[surpriserose]

remember to spay and neuter your pets especially if you're letting your cats outside besties

[servicpop]

ITTO ⋆⋆⋆ x sub bottom m!reader

NSFW › itto is oblivious to reader's love for him, virgin itto, size difference, biting/marking, public / outside sex, breeding(?)

You and Itto were joint by the hip since little kids. You two did everything together. Exploring places you've never seen before, getting in trouble together, playing beetles together, bathing together. Your parents seemed hesitant at first when you brought little Itto over to your house, he was an oni, they weren't sure if Itto would be too rough when playing or would be a bad influence. But as time progressed, your parents eventually realised that Itto was nothing but a big softie who was a too dumb to actually hurt you.

As you grew older, Itto grew taller. Itto was always the taller one but now as you grew into an adult, he practically towered over you. Itto... didn't become any less of an airhead though, he still remained that same dumb softie from years ago.

When he offered you to join his gang, the Arataki Gang, you somewhat willingly decided to join. At first you thought by 'gang' he meant he'd do crimes and whatnot but then you thought about Itto as a person. There was no way he would be capable to make an elaborate enough plan to steal something or do any crime.

When you actually joined, you realised that it was basically just Itto and his friends hanging out but Kuki — the only one who had a semblance of braincells — that it was originally meant to be for people who were shunned out by society. However, in the process of trying to promote the Arataki Gang, due to the lack of intelligence, mischief and trouble seemed to follow the members like lost puppies. You can't count on your fingers how many times you had to bail them out.

Despite all the chaos in the Arataki Gang, you stuck closest to Itto, it was natural, you've been best friends since diapers. However, this evening when the sun of inazuma set, casting an orange and yellow hue on the land below, you and Kuki were strolling along the streets mindlessly. Itto had gone off somewhere with no contact — like he does sometimes — leaving you and Kuki to talk alone. You liked her, she was calmer than the rest and alot more intelligent.

"You like him don't you?"

Her words rang through your head like an achingly high pitched frequency as you stumbled in your step. Did you like Itto? Sure you sometimes fantasised about his big arms wrapping around you and sometimes your heart would race when he flashed you a toothy grin but—

"I notice the way you act around the boss,"

Kuki crosses her arms and leans her weight onto on leg as she looks at you. The cool evening breeze brushes past your face like a small caress and you find yourself speechless, not knowing how to respond. From your lack of words she continues,

"I was going to tell him but... I think its best if you do it yourself."

You force a small nod and she walks away, muttering something about needing to run an errand but her words fall short from your ears. You've never considered it until now how you always felt warm whenever with Itto and sometimes you even dreamt of Itto in ways that you'd never say outloud. Now looking back at how you felt around Itto... you were in love and Itto was completely oblivious to it.

You and Itto were laying down on a grassy hill, the tuffs of green tickling your back as Itto was settled next to you with his arms crossed behind his head. He was asleep. Itto had fallen asleep after causing whatever sort of mischief and called you over just to lie on a hill with him.

Silence filled the blue sky with the exception of birds chirping and leaves rustling in the wind. It was a secluded spot no one really came to, that's why Itto liked it. Away from all the judge-y eyes and incriminating stares. You watch as his chest rises and falls at a steady pace and you roll over onto your stomach, eyes still glued on Itto.

"I love you, Itto."

The words spill out of your mouth like a running faucet that doesn't shut off. You shuffle almost uncomfortably on the grass and you keep letting your confession roll from your tongue.

"I can't deny that... sometimes I get these dreams where you love me too and—"

It's too embarassing to admit that you've dreamt of Itto holding you and fucking you like there's no end but the implication is there.

"But I'll never say it to your face that I love you... I don't want to ruin our friendship." Your words hang heavy and you stare at Itto as if waiting for him to wake up and catch you but he doesn't. Your gaze falls to the ground, watching the blades of grass move along your arm from the wind. It's a ticklish sensation.

"You love me?"

That familiar hearty chuckle meets your ears and you can feel your whole world pause. Slowly turning your head, you meet Itto's gaze. He's propped up on one arm and he's staring at you with sparkles in his eyes like an oaf. Embarassment colors your cheeks as you quickly turn away; you're not sure how to face him after basically confessing how you've had a crush on him and had lewd dreams about him.

A small yelp is practically forced out of you when Itto wraps his arms around your waist securely, and suddenly he's ontop of you, holding you down. "Dreams? About me? The one and only?" Usually by now you'd groan and roll your eyes but when Itto is pressed against your body, you lose all your will to fight. "Wait wait wait wait, you've got me curious now, is it really that good?" You've always knew that Itto was a virgin, never had romantic partner before, never had a hook-up, nothing. So it was natural for the oni to be curious.

Itto's abnormally large and calloused hands roam and prod at your clothing. He doesn't know what he's doing and its clear from how mindlessly he's tugging at your pants. With a small chuckle, Itto clicks off your belt and pulls down your pants alongside with your boxers. Was he really planning to fuck right in the middle of a grass hill? "Woah, you're really small," you took offense to that and was about to retaliate until you remembered Itto was an oni, he was most likely double your size.

At this point your face was buried in the comfort of your own forearms, protecting yourself from the harsh grass below you. You hear a clink followed by a thud, indicating that Itto took off his belt and was doing the same with his pants. "You're trembling man, are you cold?" It was nice of Itto to ask but, you were mostly trembling in a mix of fear and anticipation. How would his cock actually feel inside of you? Would it be bigger than you expected?

Itto leans in and you feel something big poke at your hole. There was no way that was his cock. You glance back at him and your jaw drops to the floor. He was bigger than you expected, and his red markings trailed all the way to his tip. His hand palms at your ass, spreading it apart as he clumsily lines himself up, sometimes missing. The usually talkative Itto is now relatively quiet, his breathing becoming more exasperated as he slowly pushes inside of you.

It burns. The way he stretches you out and forces you to accommodate for his size burns but also feels addictingly good. His hands grab at your waist, squeezing the soft flesh of your body as he groans quietly. "W–What the hell... you're so tight," His boisterous ego stammers as he becomes a breathy mess, trying to push deeper inside of you. Itto's nails dig into your skin, leaving crescent shapes indents on your hip as his head falls forward. You can feel his dick throbbing inside of you and your body is completely filled with just him.

Without another word, Itto pulls out before slamming back in. He hits right at your prostate, making stars appear in your vision. "Wait Itto slow down! You're too big—" Your whines fail to reach his numb brain; all he can focus on is the way you're sucking him back in every time he pulls out. "A–ah it feels so good," Itto's teeth graze against your shoulder but he tries to resist biting down. What a sweetheart.

You feel him tremble on top of you, like he's resisting the urges to be rough and unforgiving. It was in his nature to breed. His grip tightens on you, and he has his arms firmly wrapped around your body like you're a plushie. Itto's hips piston into you causing a loud slapping sound from your skin making contact with his. He can't help but hold you close, otherwise you'd try to leave him! He's practically drooling all over your shoulder but you're too fucked-dumb to really care.

Itto's teeth finally sink into your shoulder, sucking softly as he marks you as his, "Sorry, can't– help it." His apologies are quiet as he stammers like he's acting against his own will. "Gonna... gonna cum," He whimpers, his fingers digging into your skin. That was sure to leave a mark the next day. You feel a pool of pleasure in your stomach; you're close too. The way he's hitting all the right spots with every thrust made your legs weak. Who would've thought the 'big bad oni' would be whimpering and groaning while fucking you senseless.

This was better than your dreams of him. Instead of having to groggily clean your pants every morning, you're shooting blanks out onto the grass as Itto slams his hips against your ass a few more times. He groans lowly into your ear before orgasming inside of you, filling you up to the brim. You feel his crushing weight suddenly crash down on you as he collapses from the bliss. "Itto! You're too heavy get off," you whine but your protests go unheard by the oni who's dazed out of his mind.

"What's going on with you two...?"

Kuki blinks blankly at you as she glances from your intertwined fingers with Itto and your blushing face. You weren't exactly the one for big public display of affection but Itto didn't seem to care at all. In fact, he's got you glued to his side with a big smile on his face.

"He's my boyfriend!"

a/n : big dumb itto ,, luv him

[the-cooler-king]

Also since its 9am in going to have a baby moment.... I don't feel lonely and I'm not like forlorn or sad but I really. Wish. I. Had. Friends.

[slashersidewhore]

Slashers! First meeting their S/O

Slashers! x gn!reader

Includes Michael Myers, Jason Voorhees, Thomas Hewitt, Vincent Sinclair

Requested? Yes

Warnings: beefy murder boyfriends, fluffy shit, pre-relationship stuff, love at first sight, mentions of murder/gore/malicious intentions, violence

Michael Myers

It was Halloween night, dark eyes through holes in a white, cast of a mask staring through the second story window of an old, decrepit house

A young boy skipping by as in a blue, capped superhero, an older couple strolling on the opposite street, arm in arm minding their own in the breezy night

Eyes cast downward as the sharp ring of a doorbell shot through the old bones of the house, glint of a butchers knife tight in the grasp of the man know silently making his way through the upper hall

“Are we even supposed to be going in here?”

“Who cares, it’s tradition to check out the Myers mansion, relax”

“I don’t know, this feels wrong..”

Listening to what seemed to be two young adult, the shrill voice of one of them almost instantly striking the silent man with a headache

Michael watched from the shadows as the pair came into view, the louder of the two wearing her hair in tight pigtails, a cheerleader outfit splattered with what was obviously fake blood, a bad attempt at a murder victim

Ready to lumber from the darkness and strike down on the intruders, the man was struck to the spot he stood as you came into view, wearing another poorly, and clearly last minute, thrown on pirate costume

You were what he imagined when the perfect kill was dreamt, your face burned into his as your pictured screams of fear and pain died as did your fighting spirit, the knife once again tightened in his grip, knuckles turning a pale white, veins pulsing beneath taut skin

He wanted, no, needed to kill you

Even the thought alone send a bold chill of excitement through the otherwise lifeless body of his

“You know what would be so funny-“

The girl in pigtails spoke as she flipped around the corner, the voice shrinking in her throat quickly morphing in a scream of terror as she bumped into the large, awaiting body of the infamous Michael Myers

Although her scream was also short lived as a rough hand was immediately around her throat, lifting her from her feet and slamming her back into the adjacent wall breath knocked from her body at the impact

His other hand rose, moonlight catching the long, silver blade as it was plunged deep into her stomach, twisting, turning as her throat gave up on its scream, another shriek caused the killers head to twist like an owl

There you stood, frozen in place with hands partly covering your mouth, eyes wide, not shaking, not running, just watching as the man before you brutalized your friend

But as your eyes caught each others in the dimly lit hallway, Michaels grasp on the now corpse released, body hitting the floor with a dull thud he didnt bother to pull the knife from its placed nestled between dead flesh, not even glancing down at it

Your hands slowly fell from your face, still not shaking, but clearly stressed with sweat as you wiped your hands on the fabric covering your thighs

“I’m, sorry for breaking in”

Your voice was soft, careful but not disingenuous, Michael didn’t know how to react, unable to look away or even move

His head tilted to the left, mask bunching at the bottom, he turned on his heel and made his exit through the rickety wooden door leading to the backyard, leaving the body, knife, and you alone in the corridor

As his walk through the brisk night air flooded under the neck of his mask, the killer could feel his normally emotionless face scrunch with confusion

If hearing you scream in fear wasn’t what he thought he wanted from you, then what did he want from you?

He would have to investigate this sudden curiosity closely

Jason Voorhees

Jason was tirelessly indulging the day by sitting on the end of his cabins patio, watching the slow turn of various wild animals go by

There weren’t any campers to keep him busy, nor screams and boisterous laughter of teens trying to get their rocks off on the property, just the hum of June bugs and trees swaying beneath the gentle breeze of warm weather

That was until a shrill yelp drilled into Jason’s eardrums, bothered by the distraction from his day of calm, the man stood with shoulders squared, grabbing the awaiting machete perched against one of the patios wooden posts

Marching through the dense woods, his boots crushed leaves as he made he way to the noise from minutes earlier, hoping whoever it was was far gone

“Oh my god”

Of course they weren’t though, of course whoever this was decided to stupidly wander onto private property, clearly posted in writing on multiple trees and wire fences

Although Jason hesitated when he heard something he’d never had the pleasure of catching

“You poor thing, here I am breaking the law because of you”

Peeking from behind the thick trunk of a large oak, Jason was surprised to see a stranger kneeling in the dirt, fingers and palms cut up with minor wounds as they attempted to unwind a helpless rabbit that seemed to have gotten itself rolled in loose barbed wire

Not minding to worry about yourself, you winced as another barb caught your finger, slicing the thin flesh there as the rabbit was freed, trotting away without a care in the world

“Okay, now which way did I come in from?”

You wondered aloud, turning on your heel to go back the direction you think you came from, hoping in get back on the hiking trail you’d left behind

Jason merely watched with confusion, no malice or really any thought behind his eyes other than the urge to, protect you, from what he wasn’t sure

But he knew for certain, you weren’t someone he’d be able to forget

Thomas Hewitt

Let’s get one thing straight, Thomas doesn’t enjoy killing, him and his family was forced into it by Hoyt and his insatiable urge to feed and “care” for everyone

Most victims were easy to kill, treating him like a monster, screaming in his face curses and insults as they went out

Others he had a harder time with, the ones that just cry, plead with him for their life, promise they won’t tell the police if he lets them go

That being said, he’s never failed to kill, not once since he’s begun

That is until one summer day, when a knock at the door caught Luda Mae by surprise, wiping her wet hands on a dish towel and headed to the front door

Eyes narrowed, the older woman opened the door to reveal a young adult, you, standing there with a shy smile gracing your features, you held a pair of car keys in one hand, the other free to reach up and rub nervously at the back of your neck

“I’m sorry to bother you and, whoever else is home, but my car broke down a mile out, and I’m unable to reach anyone on my cell”

Luda Maes confusion turned to soft pity, a reserved grin taking over her lips as she moved to the left, a hand beckoning you in

“Well dear, there’s a phone in the kitchen, if you’d like I can call the towns auto shop while you wait in the living room”

Although still shaken from being practically dropped in the middle of nowhere Texas, you made your way graciously inside, thanking the woman with kind praise as you did so

Taking a seat on one of the two sofas available, your ankles crossed as you stared down at one of the keychains dangling from your car keys

You could hear the woman in the kitchen shuffling around, although you weren’t sure if you could hear anyone speaking to anyone on the phone

Curious, you slowly stood, palms sweaty as you now took a few steps from the living room, now able to hear Luda Mae speaking on the low to someone, then the sound of a corded phone clicking into its place on the wall

Heart slowing as you realized you were just being paranoid, you quickly turned on your heel to find your way back to the couch, although your trip was cut short by your feet crossing over one another, about to fall on your face when a two large hands steadied your shoulder

Gazing up, your breath caught in your throat at the absolute behemoth of a man now standing before you, a leather mask covering the bottom half of his face, thick brows furrowing as you simply continued to stare with wonder up at him

“Thank you”

Was all you could manage, voice catching as you realized your body was practically pressed up against his

“There you are dear, oh look I see you’ve met my youngest boy Tommy”

Luda Mae spoke as she entered the room, knowing look on her face as she coyly added fuel to the current fire

Pulling yourself up right and out of Thomas’ grasp, your hot face was focused on the older woman in hopes the man wouldn’t notice your sudden fluster

“Unfortunately our only truck is out with my other son, so I was thinking my boy here could be so kind as to walk you to the auto shop, you’ll be safe with him, promise”

You didn’t notice the way Thomas’ eyes followed you, too focused on thinking about being alone with a man as attractive as the one quietly standing beside you

“You’re not worried are you?”

Luda seemed to test you, but it went right over your head as you shook your head no

“He seems very reliable”

You smiled up at Thomas, unable to catch the skip in his chest as you did so

Luda Mae could only grin at the sight, ready to call up Hoyt and tell him to leave this stranger alone, as she could see a future blooming before her eyes

Vincent Sinclair

Vincent wasn’t one to leave his studio unless absolutely necessary, and even in those cases he didn’t, it wasn’t pleasant for the man

Until Bo brought home a guest, someone shaking and blindfolded as he manhandled the poor soul, although the stranger wasn’t screaming nor fighting, it was as if they’d completely given up, or knew it wouldn’t help

Vincent watched silently as his brother forced you to the ground, your knees surely hurting as they made contact with the hard, concrete floor

“Do you know what happens to people that wander where they don’t belong?”

Bo questioned menacingly, although he had a playful glint in his eye Vincent had never seen before

Silently creeping up behind his twin, the long haired man narrowed his eyes as he scanned what he could see in the dim, candle lit room of your face

The obvious old, dried tears that had found their way down your cheeks were still shining, creating lines over your soft skin

You looked to be carved of marble, painted with delicate strokes and framed with care, you were a work of art, and he hadn’t even seen your eyes yet

Placing a deft hand on Bo’s shoulder, the two exchanged looks, the shorter haired twin groaning in annoyance, although that look from before was still in his eye

Right as he was turning to take his leave, he leaned closer to Vincent, whispering to him as he passed

“I took one glance and knew you’d like them, guess I was right”

Then he was gone, foot steps disappearing as he left up the basement stairway

Vincent cautiously walked closer to you, noticing how you flinched back a bit when he made a move to pull your blindfold up, doing it slowly as to not startle you

Your watery eyes fell on his masked face, brows furrowing slightly as you glanced around the room

Vincent’s mouth soured at the idea that you were looking for Bo, of course you would be, what new comer in town wasn’t, until

“Is that man from before gone?”

You’d whispered, and if your sweet voice didn’t send Vincent into a flutter of strange emotions, your next words at the nod of, “yes”, Vincent gave you did

“Good, he scares me”

He merely nodded, unsure of how to act

“Is he going to come back?”

Vincent shrugged

Your shifted so you were sitting, wincing at the ache in your legs, eyes nervous but no longer afraid, you looked to the silent man before you

“Will you, stay here if he comes back?”

Vincent had never been so quick to nod a, “yes”

Sorry I’ve been gone for so long, but I’m back now! I’m working on what is currently in my requests but feel free to send in more!

^ me returning after being inactive for 6 months

[evie-sturns]

Attitude - Matt Sturniolo

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

summary: matt comes to pick you up for a late night drive, but you show up with an attitude.

contains: highway sex/angry sex, swearing, arguing, dom/rough matt, mentions of an eating disorder.

all consensual!!!

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"I'm outside baby, you ready?" matt texts and i sigh. putting my phone in my pocket, and opening the front door.

the cold breeze of the night hits my face and a shiver runs through my body, i approach matts black van, illuminated by the street light shining down on it. matts inside, his face lit by his phone screen and i open the door to the passenger side, and climb inside with a huff.

"hey! you alright?" matt says smiling at me. "yeah im fine?" i say blankly and his smile drops slightly. he starts up the car and drives down the street. the awkward slience grows as matt approaches a red light. he sighs slightly "so what did you get up to today?" matt says breaking the silence and i ignore him. "y/n?" he says again louder.

"what!?" i say back angrily loudly and he rubs his eyes. "look do you want me to take you home, you seem a little bit tired." matt says calmly trying to keep himself contained. "no its fine?" i say quietly and crossing my arms.

he keeps driving along the highway, we haven't said a word to eachother in 15 minutes. suddenly matt pulls over on the side of the road and looks at me, sighing loudly. "y/n look, youve said 3 words this whole time, if your gonna keep acting like this i'm taking you home, i was really fucking excited about spending time with you but you clearly are not feeling the same." he says through gritted teeth as he looks away.

"yeah maybe i dont wanna be here! ive been so fucking tired this week and i quite frankly would rather be asleep. so take me home!" i snap back and matt stays silent, turning the car back on and turning it around. "waste of time." i hear matt mutter under his breath and breathe in shakily, dont cry dont cry. "just pull over for fucks sake!" i say on the verge of tears. "yeah now you want to talk to me?" matt growls as he slams the breaks on and pulls over. "you shouldntve snaped at me matt." i say quietly. "i snapped at you?" matt scoffs "ive been nice this whole time, and youve been huffing in the passenger seat the whole. fucking. time." matt says in disbelief.

"your such a fucking asshole, just accept im fucking tired for once, oh wait nevermind, you cant relate because your life is literally perfect." matts breath hitches in his throat "get in the back." he says loudly. i stay perfectly still. "now." matt says again and i stay still. he gets out of the car onto the highway and walks around the car to my door and opens it quickly, picking me up aggressively.

he places me on the grass next to the car, nobody on the highway can see us since are covered by the van.

my stomach flips as i feel a familiar heat grow between my legs. he kneels down behind me and reaches a hand on my lower back, forcing me to arch.

he rips my shorts down and scoffs "no panties and fucking soaked, pathetic." he says amused as he tugs my shirt over my head. "honestly pathetic." he says again before slapping my pussy causing me to yelp.

he yanks down his sweatpants as i'm on display for him on all fours, my back is arched patiently waiting. "please" i whine and he instantly slaps my ass "dont talk." he replies instantly before lining himself up with my leaking hole. he slams his whole cock into me causing me to scream and try to reach behind me and push him, instead he grabs both my wrists and hold them behind my back.

his thrusts instantly start, giving me no time to adjust to his 7 inches. he slams into me, pulling both of my wrists, causing me to arch my back even more, i scream and he quickens his pace "shut the fuck up." he growls as he goes faster. without warning i clench around his cock and orgasm, causing him to slip out and he instantly realeses his grip on my wrists, causing me to fall face first into the grass, humiliating me. i roll over onto my back and he slams himself back into me before i even have time to adjust my position.

tears are pouring out of my eye from how sensitive i am. "fuckk.." he growls as he twitches inside of me and instantly cums inside of me, thrusting a few more times, pushing it deep inside of me. before pulling out and collapsing on the grass beside me.

we lay in the cold night air for 10 minutes before he sits up, breaking the silence. "are you okay.. im sorry." he says shakily before standing up and picking me up. "i-..uh.." i stammer, still processing what just happened. he opens the door to the backseat and places me down, he quickly puts on his jeans and joins me in the backseat. "i got you my shirt, i assumed you wouldn't want to get changed into all your clothes so i have these aswell.." he pulls some panties out of his pocket "from uh.. last time." his cheeks go red and i laugh slightly "thank you baby." i say sliding on my panties and his t-shirt. he man spreads in the backseat, pulling me onto his lap.

"do you wanna talk about it.. ya know.. the argument" he says and i nod "well um i just.." i pause then continue "first of all im really sorry, i know you're tired too, and you honestly have a much harder life than me, ive just had a bad week, i dont wanna get into it but my uh, my eating got alot worse, ive found it hard to."

(30 minutes later)

after crying into matts chest for several minutes he took me to his home and fed me everything in his pantry, then cuddled with me in bed.

"are you feeling better? um, im sorry i went so rough earlier." matt says embarrassed, covering his face with his hands.

"aside from me not being able to walk up your stairs now, im fine."

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ik i didnt color code the speech but i honestly couldnt be bothered whatsoever!!!!!

anyways hope yall liked, also request shit for me to write in my inbox

[simporado]

Bakugo x reader // fluff, established relationship

When Dynamight is a top ranked Pro Hero, people will naturally pay attention to him. He's good at what does, makes little to no mistakes on the field, albeit his fiery attitude. Also, he's hot. People can see he mellowed out, but he's still bite and bark (when it matters).

Literally everytime he's on the news, he'll be trending. Stopping a simple robbery despite not being the only pro hero present? News. Villain capture? Yep. Even more so if the villain gives him a particularly rough time and his hero costume is in tatters, and it shows more of his glistening muscles. Helping an old person cross the street? Has people gagging at his gentle action despite him telling off the senior citizen to not waste his time by going out alone and endangering themselves. Dynamight cups the old person's elbow and walks slowly while glaring at the cars to stop (the old person finds him endearing and thanks him anyway, seeing right thru him just like the whole internet).

The number one, failproof, low-effort way to get him to be the talk of the WEEK is just whenever it involves you.

People see you patrolling together, Dynamight pacing slightly behind you but still close enough. Whenever you get stopped by some fans, you entertain them and Bakugo acts like your bodyguard. He'd be standing right behind you and watch, also serving as a human barricade to block people off to prevent bumping into you. Sometimes he'd fiddle with your costume's accessories, fixing it a little if it looks out of place. People always manage to capture it on video and upload it online, and they eat it up everytime.

He'll be trending when his fellow Pro Hero friends post on their stories during their get togethers. There's this one particular story that went peak viral. Ochaco had been filming everyone and managed to take a video of the moment where a picture was being taken. He looked grumpy at first but then you scooched closer to him, his face immediately relaxes and only looks at you while you pose for the pic. Seeing the video trend, Mina, the one who took the group selfie, posted the resulting pic that night. Lo' and behold, Bakugo looking at you with a softened expression as you pose for the pic, your hand in a peace sign while a drink in the other as you lean onto Bakugo while his hand was visibly resting on your hip. The internet went wild.

The comments on Mina's post were mostly about him and you. And Bakugo adds fuel to the fire, liking every comment about how beautiful you are. People tweeting screenshots of their notifications that says Dynamight's official account liked their comments.

Bakugo doesnt really care for being viral all the time, so he wouldnt know. Its only when his friends tell him about the things people say that he knows, and when you tell him.

[midnightarcheress]

thinking of you becoming price's personal lucky charm :)

cw: f!reader. slightly nsfw. very rushed/unedited. idk shit about casinos or card games lol. 1 | more casino!141

when your friend begged you to dress up fancy and go out with them, a casino was not what you had in mind. especially not an underground one, entrance hardly visible in the dimly lit street, where you even needed a password to get in.

despite being far from your definition of a night out, you decide to give one of the games a chance. the roulette seemed the easiest, with seemingly less rules to learn, and to your surprise, you're crushing it. starting with safe outside bets, you make your way to straight bets and stay winning every single one of them. 

at your winning streak, you sense two sets of eyes on you, almost burning your flesh with the heat that crawls to your cheeks. you peek over your shoulder and meet two burly men, one with an icy stare and half-covered face, the other with an adorable boyish smirk and a mohawk. still, both glare at you with an intense puzzled gaze, laced with curiosity and an underlying hunger that makes you shiver. 

suddenly, you feel a rough hand settling on your lower back, nearly making you jump on your seat, “what does the pretty lady think about heading to the vip section?” the man says, pearly smile doing a perfectly good job in luring you in, “all that luck needs to be put to good use.”

you ponder for a second, fearing that once you’re in, all your fortune will slip out your fingers and the beginner’s luck will be gone forever. but his sweet brown eyes are too convincing, and you nod, taking his hand and walking through a mysterious door.

“i– i don’t know how to play poker,” you stutter, brows knitted together at the sight of a round table with piles of chips in the center.

"don't worry, love, you're not here to play," a bearded man says, gruff voice followed by a puff of his cigar. he seems a bit older than the one who brought you inside or the two observers, ocean-blue eyes looking at you tenderly, but the sly smirk on his face doesn't go unnoticed.

he pats his thigh, gesturing for you to sit, "my men say you've been quite lucky out there," a smoke cloud forms in front of him, mingling with the strong scent of his cologne, "let's check."

hesitantly, you comply, plush thighs meeting his firm one. he chuckles at your shyness and pulls you closer to his torso by your waist, positioning your ass right above his growing bulge and you bite back a squeal, "name's John."

the game restarts and you watch the dealer distributing the cards. you glance at his hand and he holds five cards, all hearts, which must be a good sign, given the way he squeezed your hip, certainly hard enough to leave a bruise. not that you minded, considering the damp spot forming between your legs.

"would you look at that, straight flush," he flashes you a grin, cigar dangling from his lips as his laugh echoes amongst the annoyed huffs of other players.

his fingers trace your spine, teasingly edging the waistband of your skirt as you try your best not to squirm, "mighty luck you have, love," he whispers in your ear, beard gently grazing your neck.

he hands you one of his golden chips, "for you, as a thank you," your eyes widen at the number 1000 etched in the back, promptly pushing back the gift. he shakes his head, palm sneaking its way to your inner thigh, "there's way more where that came from."

it's safe to say you might become an avid gambler after tonight.

[wttcsms]

these eyes were made for lookin’ at you (only you) ; simon “ghost” riley.

pairing simon “ghost” riley x f!reader word count 5.6k synopsis simon riley didn’t ask to be a hero, but he finds himself wanting to be yours. content contains hints to human traff/icking (not explicit), breeding kink, belly bulge, size difference, pet names/terms of endearment (pretty girl, baby, love, darling, sweetheart), soft!ghost, obsessive!ghost, domesticity, mutual pining, praise kink, probably ooc!ghost but the man is absolutely whipped for you, clothed sex (his uniform is on), minor depictions of violence

He doesn’t quite consider himself a hero, you know.

He’s got a foul mouth, a sense of humor that borders between too dry or too dark, and so much blood on his hands that he’s surprised to see they’re not red when he pulls off his gloves and runs them under scalding hot water.

There will be no parades in his honor. No little boys running up to him on the streets, proclaiming that they want to be just like him. No statues to be sculpted to remember him by whenever he meets his inevitable end, six feet under. He probably won’t even be a memory after death.

And he’s come to terms with all of this, of course. It’s not like he cares — he didn’t sign up to do this shit for the glory or because he wanted to be considered a hero. He did it because someone out there had to be the person willing to do anything for the betterment of everyone.

Perhaps that makes him heroic in some sense; again, he doesn’t particularly care.

Until you.

Until one mission sends you into his direct orbit, knocking everything he’s ever known out of its place. It’s disorienting, confusing—

—exhilarating.

He doesn’t get scared anymore, but there’s something inherently frightening about wanting to share parts of yourself — of your very being, of your soul — to someone. He’s not quite able to label any of the emotions he feels for you the first time he sees you, but he feels enough to know that if he wants to save himself, he should put as much distance between the two of you as he possibly can.

(It turns out that this lieutenant doesn’t have as great of a sense of self-preservation as he proclaims.)

You cling to his arm, ignoring the way your palm digs and presses into the hard armor and tactical gear he sports. You think he might shake you off or forcefully pull you off of him, but he does neither. The soldier freezes, just for a second, and then he turns to face you.

If this is what the Grim Reaper looks like, perhaps death isn’t such an unfavorable ending. You can’t make out any physical features of your savior’s face, save for the pair of dark eyes staring right at you.

The skull mask does its job of securing his identity, but he should consider wearing goggles, you think. You’re not certain, but you think his eyes must be his most incriminating feature. You think if he gave you a proper minute to look at him, the image of his eyes would be ingrained in your memory. You’d be able to recognize him by them alone.

“Do you understand me?”

The gruff voice must be coming from him, if the subtle movements underneath his mask are any indication. He’s staring straight ahead now, watching as the rest of his team begins to usher the other girls who were stolen alongside you into large trucks. Maybe they’re tanks. You’re not quite sure.

“You must not then, yeah?” When he speaks, every word seems to be just the slightest bit rough around the edges. His accent is oddly nice; from the way he delivers his comments, though, you’re left wondering if he is, too.

He must be — nice, that is. A nice man would let you continue to grip his arm for support, even though you’re capable of standing on your own. A nice man would save you from the hell you’ve been subjected to for… Months? Has it been months? Shorter, maybe? Or longer? Time passes differently when all you want to do is die.

“I understand,” you finally answer him. You think your words must come out a little rough, too. The air in this area seems hard to breathe in, and you’re not sure when was the last time you even drank anything. You say it so quietly, you’re afraid that you’ll have to force yourself to speak up, but he nods.

“You’ll be safe now.”

Looking back, those might have just been words meant to comfort you, but you trust this masked man. You don’t know him (not yet), but the way he says it sounds like he means it.

(He means it.)

He goes by Ghost.

He doesn’t tell you why, and you don’t unnecessarily pry yourself into his business.

He doesn’t even tell you the name himself; you hear it from the mouths of the other officers, the other men who helped in rescuing you and the others.

The man who took you — the one in charge of shipping and selling the girls — won’t be giving you any more problems, now. He won’t hurt you again, isn’t even capable of touching you ever again. This is what Ghost reassures you with, and you nod, believing him.

After all, you witnessed him slice the asshole’s neck. You watched the blood spill out of his body. You were being ushered away at the time, but you still found the strength to turn around to watch him die.

You still haven’t found yourself able to detach yourself from him, and he hasn’t found the strength to shake you off just yet. Your fingers look dainty compared to the bulk of his arm, and the uniform he’s wearing only serves to add to his overall mass. You should want to put some distance between you and him; you know what men are like. You know it doesn’t take much for them to snap and change their demeanors in an instant. With the strength you’ve already witnessed and the sheer size of him, you know fighting him off wouldn’t even be realistic. But you still find yourself refusing to leave him alone, as if the evil he just destroyed will come back to life and hunt you down the very moment your savior leaves you.

It’s why you’re in a separate vehicle from the rest of the rescued girls. It’s just the two of you in the back, and the only noise you can hear is the loud huffs from the engine and the sound of tires speeding on rough terrain.

“When we return, there will be people who will come collect you and the others. They’ll clean you up and help you get back on your feet. You’ll be able to start a new life.”

A new life?

The thought excites you.

You don’t know what awaits you outside. When you were a little girl, you were still allowed to bask in the outdoors. The warmth of the sun, the feel of a soft breeze brushing against your skin — sometimes, when you were chained and in your cell, cowering in the dark, you wished that you hadn’t taken advantage of those little luxuries.

“In this life… I will feel the sun?” He hears the innocence in your voice, your question filled with longing and maybe even excitement. It was just past dusk when they rescued you; it’s now nighttime, and he feels himself wishing he had the power to bring the sun down from the sky and present it to you.

“In this life, you’ll be able to do anything you want.”

He’ll personally see to it if he has to.

You had fallen asleep by the time you reached your destination. With one mission successfully completed, Ghost finds himself with another almost immediately after, and with the peaceful expression on your face and the fact that this facility is one of the most secure buildings in the world, he leaves you—

—only to return back to the facility in a little over two weeks.

It’s not as if there’s someone waiting for him in the empty residence he calls home. Besides, it’s only natural — human, even — for him to be curious as to how you’re doing. While he trusts that you’re safe, he finds himself, in between lulls on missions, wondering how you’re adjusting.

(And in the rare moments where he finds himself fighting off exhaustion — the only telltale sign that he’s still flesh and blood and not the phantom his enemies think he is — he finds himself wondering if you’re thinking about him too.)

What did you see when you stared at him that day? He had killed a man — killed many men, actually — without mercy, without hesitation. He’s done it so many times throughout his life that wielding a weapon has become second nature to him.

Sometimes he even feels like he’s the weapon.

And again, he doesn’t care about whether or not he’s deemed a good person or a hero, but he doesn’t want to be a nightmare to you. He can still feel the ghost of your touch lingering on his left arm, the arm that you had clutched the day he rescued you. If not for the employees confirming your presence and guiding him to your room, he would be almost convinced that you’re a dream he thought up himself.

“Poor girl,” the woman leading way is telling him. “She’s been having the worst time out of all the others. I’m not surprised, hearing what they must have had to endure all that time, but the sweetheart can’t even sleep without us sedating her.”

“What?”

The low timbre of his voice makes the word sound more like a growl.

Seemingly shocked at his reaction, the woman almost pauses in her steps before continuing. “Yes, she’s been having nightmares. Thrashing wildly in her sleep, screaming the first few nights, even.” And then, almost as if she’s trying to make him feel better, she adds, “But she’s much better now. Save for a few sobs every now and then.”

He doesn’t know what to make of that. If it had been someone physically tormenting you, he would have no issue in getting rid of the source of your pain. Demons who only appear in nightmares, though — that’s something not even he can fight off for you.

When they make it to your door, the woman knocks gently, calling out your name softly, almost as if she does anything too harshly, you’ll break down.

“I brought someone here who wants to see you, hon. I’m going to come in now, okay?”

The woman eyes him almost warily as if she’s just now taking him in. He didn’t bother changing out of his usual uniform, telling the helicopter pilot that picked him up after his most recent mission to take him directly here instead. In his defense, he hadn’t even anticipated you still being here.

But you are.

He’s well aware that he probably doesn’t look the nicest, his mask serving its purpose and obscuring his whole entire face, making him entirely unreadable. If you’re as skittish as the woman claims you are, perhaps it’ll be for the best if he leaves now.

But it’s too late. She’s opening the door and never one to hesitate, he’s stepping in. The woman doesn’t follow; instead, she shuts the door, most likely ready to call for backup if anything were to happen to you.

You look at him, and then a second later, recognition gleams in your eyes.

Now that it’s not as dark, he’s able to take in every single feature of your face, from the color of your eyes down to the slope of your nose and the shape of your pretty lips. He commits your visage to memory.

“It’s you,” you breathe out, sitting up straighter on your bed. “The man who saved me.”

And if the near reverent way you greet him isn’t enough to have him reeling, the next words you say have his heart freefalling:

“You’re my hero.”

You speak to him so sweetly, in a tone so soft that the words you say wrap around him like a warm blanket. No one has ever said that to him. No one has ever spoken to him the way you do.

He swallows hard, and for the first time in his life, he’s unsure of what to do.

“Have you been alright?” He asks, and your expression falls almost immediately.

You answer him after a few seconds of silence.

“Yes.”

You little liar.

“I’m very comfortable here, but I’ve seen many of the others getting ready to travel elsewhere. The people here are kind, and they tell me they have many houses I can choose from. They’ll help me find work and…” Your voice trails off, and he watches the way your hands curl around the bedsheets. “I’ll be normal. Find a husband, make a family, forget all about this.”

“Is that what you want?”

“Yeah.”

You’ll learn soon enough that he doesn’t like lying.

He moves quicker than someone his size should be able to; stealthy, too. You don’t catch his movements, but you blink, and suddenly he’s right in front of you, crouched down so he’s able to look you in the eyes.

You were right. You are able to recognize him by his eyes alone.

“You don’t have to lie to me, you know.” When he speaks, you can’t help but hang on to every word. You find yourself nodding. “You’ll answer me honestly then?”

You nod again, this time a bit quicker.

“Good girl.” You hear the approval in his deep tone of voice, and you almost wish you hadn’t. You didn’t know what it’s like to be fed such praise, and you’re stuck starving for it now. “How have you been?”

“Alright. I’m happy to be here, but I—” Your voice cracks, and so does something inside of him. You look down, suddenly more interested in your sock-covered feet rather than his eyes. “Everyone else is able to move on so quickly, or they have someone waiting for them. I have no one. No one is looking for me. No one is expecting me.”

The realization of your reality finally settles in for you with your confession. You were born into that fate; the other girls who used to occupy the cells next to you were stolen. By all means, you were assigned to die there. There isn’t a future for you because you’re certain the universe did not anticipate you ending up like this.

No one is expecting me.

He understands what that’s like. It’s the reason why he’s here, because for once in what feels like forever, he finally has someone he’d like to see after a mission.

“You could find someone out there.”

“What if I leave here, and no one wants me?” The words come out a bit wobbly, and you look at him with glossy eyes and wet lashes.

You’re even prettier than he remembers.

He swallows hard, trying to find the right words to say.

(Soap claims he has a bad habit of saying the most awful things at the worst time possible.)

“That won’t happen.”

“How can you be so sure?”

Because after meeting you for the first time, he — the man with no regard to his own personal well-being and the utmost self-control — finds himself longing to be in your presence. He had to see you again; can’t you already see how you’re taking root inside his very being?

“I’m here, aren’t I?”

“Will you come back then?” When you look at him like that, all wide-eyed with your pretty lips forming a subtle pout, he thinks he might do something stupid, like—

“Whenever you want me to.”

—make a promise he might not be able to keep.

He gives you a burner phone. It’s supposedly untraceable (he doesn’t let you know about the tiny personal tracker he attaches to it; don’t worry, he’s the only one able to access your locational information), and while he doesn’t give you any explicit instructions, the only number programmed into the contacts list is his.

(That’s fine with you. It’s not as if you have anyone else to talk to.)

You know that he must be a busy person. You wonder if he’s considered a savior to many other people like you. Then innocent thoughts like that spiral into something jealous. Does he normally visit the people he saves? Are there other girls who have been gifted a phone like this?

He doesn’t message you, and you’re too scared of bothering him to reach out.

Every night since he sent you this phone, you’ve laid in bed, thumbs hovering over the keypad, debating what to say if you ever get the courage to text him. Every night, you never hit send on a single draft, and you fall into an uneasy slumber usually after your tenth attempt at a text message.

Sleeping is the worst.

Your nightmares can’t reach you when you’re in the safety of the waking world, but the moment your eyes are closed, it’s like every dark memory you’ve suppressed comes out of the shadows and begins its long-awaited torment.

The feeling of the cuffs on your ankles digging into your flesh feels too raw and real to be a mere memory. The men walking by your cell, sometimes staring at you uncomfortably long, taunting you and calling you cruel names. They’re always so explicit about what they have planned for you, but your seller will never give you up. Not until he finds someone willing to pay the high price he has hanging over your head.

You’re an untouched, undamaged good is what he reminds you. You’ll make him so much money.

But then you feel the cold, clammy grip of his on your arm and his breath on your neck, and you scream and scream and scream.

There must be cameras in the room you’re in because after the first week of nightmares, the kind workers here stop rushing to your room. If you don’t quiet in a few minutes, a male nurse will come in with a syringe and a pitying look before injecting a sedative into your veins. Artificial sleep is the only uninterrupted rest you get these days.

You wake up with your throat raw from your yells, and your skin sweaty. It takes several minutes for your heartbeat to go back to its regular pace, yet the images of your most recent nightmare are still flashing in your mind. You grab the cell phone you keep tucked under your pillow. It must be because of your panicked state of mind, but you find yourself clicking his contact.

The dial tone grounds you into reality, but before you can truly come to your senses and hang up, he answers the call.

“Hello?” Hearing his voice calms you down even more so despite the slight crackle that comes with hearing him through the speakers of the phone.

“Ghost?” You’re whispering, even though you’re certain that the walls are thick enough for you to speak normally without bothering anyone. Besides, anyone with ears probably already suffered through your fit.

“[Name].”

You don’t remember telling him your name, but it makes sense for him to know it. After all, he’s the one who visited you several days ago.

The thought that he would have to make an effort to seek you out and learn more about you is far more comforting than you think it should be.

“S-sorry for bothering you. It’s probably late—”

“Are you alright?”

“Am I… Alright?”

“Yes.” After contemplating a bit, he adds, “And don’t try to lie to me, either.”

“Are you busy?”

He’s in a safe house ten minutes away from the facility; say the word, and he can get there in three.

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“You didn’t answer mine.”

“No, I’m not busy. Now your turn: how are you feeling?”

“Scared.” It’s easier to admit things when you’re unable to see him. Staring at him makes you nervous because you think he’ll be able to read everything on your own face. Vulnerability is never easy.

“Did you have a nightmare?” Maybe it’s the exhaustion messing with your mind, but you think his voice might have just softened, just the slightest.

“Yeah.”

He’s silent, but you think you hear some slight movement on his end.

“Ghost?”

“Yes?”

“What’re you doing?”

“I’m going to visit you. Do you not want me to?”

You’re scared to answer, too frightened that your tired state will cause you to let the raw truth slip out.

You think you’re always going to want him.

He can only visit you when he’s in between missions.

(Unfortunately for you, breaks for him are a rarity.)

He comes back to you, sometimes a little bruised, sometimes a bit more broken than when he had left, but he always keeps his promise.

Whenever you want him to be with you, he’s there.

The nightmares gradually get better with time, but you always sleep the best when he’s with you. At first, he would just sit in a corner of your room, almost impossible to view unless you focus hard on him (if you didn’t know he was there, you probably never would have noticed him at all). He eventually began to sit closer to you, somewhere near the edge of your bed. On the rougher nights, you would find yourself reaching out for his hand.

When his presence alone can’t keep the nightmares at bay, and you wake up from another bad dream, he doesn’t force you to tell him what you see. Instead, he talks. Despite his rough voice, the sound of him telling you about the mundane aspects of his day is the most comforting thing in the world. It’s like your own personal lullaby.

He tells you about his life before this. You tell him about yours, too. His gloved hand brushes against your cheek as he tucks back a strand of your hair. You lay your own hand atop his, feeling the warmth of him even through the thick leather. You tell him about your nightmares, all the darker details that make you loathe your very being. He tells you his name.

You whisper it back to him.

Simon. Simon Riley.

You say it several times, sometimes slowly. Testing out how the syllables rest on the tip of your tongue.

He likes his name best when you’re the one saying it.

The facility starts to fill up with other saved victims from missions more recent than yours. You’re free to stay here as long as you like, but one day, Simon presses a key into the palm of your hands. You don’t need him to say anything; the imploring look in his eyes, your favorite feature in the whole world, ask the question for him.

Now the two of you share a bed. His toothbrush stands right next to yours, and the former empty residence that Simon used to spend his off-time avoiding is a home. He cares about what will happen to him because every time he leaves for a mission, you send him off with a soft see you soon!.

He knows that keeping his heart cold would ensure that he would go to great lengths to see to the success of his missions, but running towards death is such a silly thing. Why would he be okay with chasing after that when he knows he can return to his safehouse hidden in the woods and find you in the kitchen humming? If anything, he completes his missions even faster now. You told him that you’ll be expecting to see him soon, and he’s not one to disappoint you.

Simon Riley knows he’s got it bad. He can’t sleep well unless his sheets smell like you. He asks if he can bathe you just to run soap over the smooth skin of your body because he’s entirely obsessed with you, every scar and beauty mark. He knows it’s dangerous, but he keeps a Polaroid of you tucked safely away in one of his inner pockets in his uniform.

One morning, nearly a year since he rescued you, you tell him you love him.

He lets you take his mask off.

You’re smiling at him, eyes shining as you take in every minute detail. You can’t believe this is a face he would want to hide from the world. Selfishly, you’re a bit pleased with knowing you’re one of the few to see him like this, completely bare. To make the moment even better, he says it back.

He loves you.

“I know.” You tell him; it’s obvious. His mask is resting in your hands, after all.

Simon rushes home after every mission to see you, his first love, his only love. He loves coming back to you when you’re barefoot in the kitchen or washing your face in the bathroom, but he loves it the most when you guide him to your shared bedroom, the prolonged distance between the two of you making your longing for him all the more intense.

He loves you all the time, especially when you’re lying beneath him completely bare, with your hands (so much smaller compared to his own) eagerly touching every inch of him you can reach. He just got back; his uniform is partially off, all the weapons left hanging by the doorstep. He’s got nothing but the protective armor and the thick fabric on him, and with the way your body is practically calling for him, he doesn’t think you’ll give him enough time to strip himself of his clothes.

“Simon — missed you so much,” is what you whine out. He knows. You don’t have to whimper it out to him because your actions (and body’s reactions) leave nothing to assumption. You’re struggling to lift yourself up to pepper kisses all over his unmasked face, dainty hands tugging at his sleeves. Your cheeks are flushed, and you attempt to rut against him, trying to get some type of friction to satiate yourself.

You’re already so wet for him that he can feel it through his uniform.

“I know, baby. I’ve got you.” That’s your Simon. Always reassuring, always there when you need him. And right now, you need him so desperately that you’re soaking the bedsheets beneath you.

True to his word, you feel a gloved hand teasing your slick folds, smearing your arousal everywhere.

“Fuck.” He breathes out, admiring your glistening folds for just a second with a sort of sick fascination. He can spend hours with his head in between your thighs and your hands clutching at his hair. He won’t be leaving you so soon, though. He’ll have all the time he wants to bring you to the height of pleasure with just his tongue; tonight, he wants to give you exactly what you need.

The feeling of two of his thick fingers working in and out of your tiny hole has you moaning and writhing beneath him. You’re always beautiful in his eyes, but there’s something about you with wild hair and eyes shut from pleasure that makes you practically irresistible to him.

Everything about Simon is larger than life, and the feeling of being so small in comparison to his hulking figure should be frightening. But when he’s above you, his large fingers toying with your pussy in the way he knows you just love, you feel protected. Like he’s your shield from the harsh world outside. Inside your shared bedroom, only you two exist.

Your back arches, forcing his fingers to reach even deeper. The texture of his gloves only adds to your pleasure and in an attempt to prepare you for his cock, Simon adds another finger to stretch out your tight cunt.

“C’mon, sweetheart. Be a good girl and cum for me, yeah?” His words come out through gritted teeth, as if it’s taking everything in him not to replace his fingers for his cock. His tolerance is hanging on by a mere thread, but he refuses to fuck you properly ‘til he’s certain you’re ready to take him. Only when your cum is coating the leather of his gloves will he know.

You nod, occasionally jerking your hips in tandem with his thrusts, chasing after your high. You’re beginning to feel hotter, your pussy becoming even wetter, and neither of you can make out the words you’re mewling out. Perhaps your whines are pleas for more, maybe even mercy.

You can’t last any longer, and as his fingers curl against your sensitive walls, you find yourself nearly screaming his name as you gush around his fingers. He grins at the result of his hard work, withdrawing his fingers just to hold them up to you. His gloved hand glistens in the moonlight, and you can only watch as he raises his fingers to his mouth before sucking your essence off of them, effectively cleaning it up.

He never breaks eye contact with you once.

“Should I try it straight from the source?” His grin is teasing, the gleam in his eyes nothing short of wicked.

You weakly shake your head, already too fucked out to properly respond.

“No? I’ve been starving for your taste all those weeks I was gone, love. You don’t want to be a sweet girl and let me have my fill?” You know he’s just teasing you, but you still find yourself upset at the prospect of displeasing him.

“Not yet.” You pout, spreading your legs for him. “I wanna feel your cock.”

His grin only grows wider.

“Looks like my perfect girl’s been starving too, huh?” He leans down to give you a kiss, and you can taste a hint of your arousal lingering on his tongue. “Don’t worry, darling. I’ll give you everything you want and more.”

Everything about Simon is larger than life.

The first time he ever fucked you, you had cried from the stretch of his massive girth invading your previously untouched cunt. The sensation of being filled to the brim was a foreign one, but a feeling you’re certain only he could provide. No matter how many times he’s had you, it always feels like it’s your first time taking him.

He’s whispering words of reassurance as he guides himself into your leaking entrance. Despite him working you to your peak, three fingers doesn’t begin to compare to his dick, and you find yourself whimpering over his words of praise.

“You’re doing so well for me, love. Such a good girl, my good girl.” He kisses your forehead, forcing every inch of himself inside until the tip of his cock is kissing your cervix. The pleasure of being so full outweighs the pain of the stretch your cunt has to make to accommodate his sheer size.

You stare down at where the two of you are connected, taking a sharp breath as the unmistakable bulge in your belly serves as undeniable evidence of just how deep Simon is capable of reaching. It’s always a wonder on how your tiny pussy is always able to take him, and Simon merely chuckles as he notices where you’re staring.

Using the same hand he used to coax your first orgasm with, he gently guides your hand to rest on top of the bulge. He’s smiling as he tells you, “Keep your eyes right there, darling. I want you to watch me as I fuck you.”

His thrusts are always powerful, a true sign of his strength. You’re not even sure where all his stamina comes from because no matter how exhausting his missions may appear to be, he always finds the energy to fuck you well throughout the night.

Your body’s natural instinct is to tighten around him, and the pressure has him growling as he works harder to piston his cock in and out of you. The lewd squelching noises, the smacking of skin against skin — everything is just so downright pornographic.

Your free hand finds purchase on his clothed back, nails digging through the fabric as he continues to work to bring the two of you to an explosive finish.

“Fuck, I missed you so much, darling.” He hisses, relishing in the tightness of your cunt and how your body takes him so well every time. “I don’t ever want to leave you alone again.”

You whine out for him, needing him closer even though he’s already as close as he can get. With his unyielding, powerful thrusts and your heightened sensitivity, neither of you is going to last much longer. He looks down to admire the imprint of his cock in your belly. He loves you and finds every little thing about your body perfect, but he can imagine your belly expanding to make room for his child and your tits swelling with milk. Fuck.

“Want to put a baby in you, love. Will you let me? You’ll never be alone again, not when we make the perfect lil’ family.” He grunts, and you nod, overjoyed at the idea of him wanting something so intimate. A family. Your family. He’ll give you a baby.

“Yes!” You scream out, feeling the coil in your stomach about to snap, every thrust bringing you closer and closer to breaking. “Wanna have your baby, wanna be with you forever.” The words come out sounding like sobs as you feel the tension inside of you snap.

“Fuck, you’re so perfect. Going to fill this cunt with my cum, darling.” His thrusts are becoming more erratic as he gets closer to losing control. Both of his hands grip your hips, his hold on you tight as he releases into you with a deep grunt. His cum is thick and warm, filling you up so much to the point where it’s already leaking out despite him staying inside of you all in an attempt to make sure it takes.

Breathless, wild-eyed, red cheeks — the both of you are an absolute mess.

You take a shaky hand to run through his hair that’s damp with sweat, and he leans into your gentle touch. You stare at him with a reverence he feels he doesn’t deserve.

“My hero.”

[fire-emblem-drabbles]

Pairing: Astarion x reader

Prompt: In which you couldn't convince Astarion not to become the Vampire ascendant, but still do not allow him to do the ritual.

Description: You really did fall so hard, and so, so fast. No wonder when the ground came to meet you did it hurt just as much. But perhaps its not too late to stand back up again, if someone was willing to lend a hand.

Rating: sfw

Content Warning: hurt/comfort

Word Count: 3018

Notes: I had to save scum this so much on my file that was romancing him. And well I be thinking about him a lot lately... I litterally have no idea where these words came from btw so I hope u enjoy them!

“It’s over,” Said with such disdain, such pain and hurt, directed your way. “I’m done with this, and I’m done with you.” Venom, dripping and cold. What happened to the warmth in those eyes? To the love that once shown in them, when he looked your way? “I would say good luck out there, but honestly? I hope you die screaming.” He looked so broken, so hurt.

You hardly remembered what came next, beyond your own tears. Astarion simply… left. Walk away as you crumpled to the ground, in disbelief. As you begged him to say. When you told him, over and over again, that you loved him.

Karlach and Shadowheart must have dragged you out of those dungeons, otherwise you might still be there, wallowing in your pity. You don’t remember how long it had been since then. Since you had stopped Cazador from ascending, freed Astarion from his grasp… and tried to convince him not to ascend himself. Your words may have failed, but your actions didn’t; you didn’t let him use your eyes to copy his scars. You couldn’t.

All for him to walk away.

You hadn’t really been the same, since then. Where once you were the leader of your little ragtag group of adventurers, now you couldn’t find it in you to leave your tent. Well… Astarion’s tent, actually. You never had one of your own. And when the two of you got together, it just seemed natural to share.

Gale had taken over in leading everyone for day to day adventuring on your behalf. Even though you wished it, the world would not slow down because you were hurt. No kindness spared on your broken, broken heart. Yet you couldn’t stop wondering where you went wrong. Were the two of you not as close as you thought? Could you have been more convincing, hell, more intimidating, anything to have kept him by your side?

You think, right now, it’s night. Your candle’s are all stuffed out, the bustle of the streets beyond are quiet, and you can’t hear the patter and stomps of Scratch and the owlbear cub playing around camp. Your tears have all but dried, even if your sorrow remains as fresh as a new wound. No, all is silent in this moment.

You take a deep breath. Yes, it would be best to sleep. Maybe tomorrow, you would wake up and feel like a person again. One who could attend to all her duties. And maybe even get back on the path to save Baldur’s gate.

But sleep never comes for those whose hearts are so heavy. This isn’t the first night you’ve lied awake, thoughts wondering. All for the better, perhaps-- because in the heavy quiet of the cities dark night, you hear the flap of your tent open with the utmost quietness. And you, just as quiet, sit up from your laying position. Who ever has invaded your space must have dark vision, for they pause upon seeing your form and do not move an inch.

“I can see you there.” Your voice comes out, gravelly and rough. You don’t sense your in danger, though, even as your heart beats and pounds in your chest. Who would be stupid enough to steal from a camp full of adventurers, with an owlbear lurking around no less. Still, with some trepidation, you cast the cantrip for light, and watch as your messy tent (and new guest) are bathed in cool, blue light.

“Oh,” Is all you think to say. You can’t really trust your eyes, so you rub the days of built up sleep and sorrow from them. No, you can’t even speak his name as you stare upon him. But you dare not look away. Even if it was a dream, it was him. It was him.

“...You’re a mess.” His words are soft, quiet. He seems to relax a little when he sees you make no movement.

“...I suppose I am.” You clear your throat a little after speaking, if only because a new lump seems to be forming now that you look to him. “How… how can I help you, Astarion?”

“Gods…” He heaves a heavy sigh, looking over your pitiful form. “I’ve hurt you this much, and you still think to help me? Are you stupid?” He shakes his head in disbelief.

“Perhaps.” You nod softly. “Stupid enough to fall in love with you, after all.” You can only smile weakly at him.

“I came here too…” He frowns, looking away from you for a moment. “Well it doesn’t matter why I came back. You clearly need some sense knocked back into you.” With that, he moves in closer to you. Surprised, you move in a little in order to accommodate him. You try to ignore the beating of your heart, ignore the hope that rises within you like a phoenix from its ashes.

“What… are you going to do?” You turn to him, nestled into your side like he might have been not too long ago.

“Talk, as terrible as that sounds.” He keeps his gaze down, looking at the messed up bedding.

“Talk?” You repeat. “I thought you… didn’t want to see me again.”

“Well, that was then. This is now.” Astarion looks to you. To the bags built up under your eyes. Your cheeks, still rosy and sensitive with just how many tears you’ve shed (for him, no less). Your hair is unkempt and as gross as you are, all he can see is someone that loves him… “I… said and did some terrible things during that ritual. Things that… looking back, I may not have done were I in the right head space.” He swallows hard. “I was… scared. And the promise of power, the smell of blood… it was all so intoxicating, I forgot myself there for a moment.”

The two of you sit in the silence a moment, festering in it. Words dance on the tip of your tongue but Astarion isn’t done speaking. He, too, needs a moment to compose himself. “But… you never forgot who I was.” He looks to you, something soft, something sad, something gentle written into the contours of his face. Even as he turns to you, he struggles to meet your eyes-- shining, glimmering, with something sweet and promising and loving in them. Something that he doesn’t deserve; not after the actions he took that day.

“You did everything in your power to convince me what I was doing was wrong, but all I could see then was the security that power could bring me.” He closes his eyes, taking a sharp intake of air though his nose. “I was so blinded, I could not see that with you by my side, I was the happiest I’ve ever been these past 200 years…” As he opens his eyes, he looks down to his folded hands, then over to yours. You realize that even if he is so close… Astarion hesitates to touch you. Maybe he felt as if he wasn’t allowed to do so any more, or perhaps felt he was no longer worthy… Whatever the reason, it breaks your heart just a little bit more.

“I… see.” It’s a lot to soak up. That in the moment, you couldn’t reach him but in the days sense Astarion has realized… maybe this was for the better.

“You saved me from becoming the very man I lived in fear of, and all I gave you in return was heartbreak.” He seeks your eyes, his own wide and wet and you realize he’s crying now. Tears flood your eyes as well, because he was right; you cared for him so much, though, it almost didn’t seem to matter. Almost. “How can I ever expect you to forgive me?” With that, he breaks, closing his eyes roughly and crying out, sobbing into his own hands.

All you can do in that moment is cry with him. Two, love sick idiots broken and hurt but not beyond mending-- not yet.

“It’s okay,” You find yourself struggling to say the words, even as you usher him into your arms and hold him. He does not hesitate to hold you in turn, to cry unto you as you into him. “We’ll be okay, I promise, I promise.” Your words come out as prayer as you hold him close. “Just don’t leave again, please!”

“I won’t, I won’t.” Astarion seems to compose himself more quickly than you do, but he does not let go, even as you know your tears stain his shirt. “I’ve got you and I won’t leave you ever again.” He rubs his hand along your back slowly, doing his best to try and comfort you in the same way you have for him in the past. It’s a long moment before you feel yourself begin to breathe normally again, before your tears once again dry and you find yourself staring into his red eyes once more.

“I love you,” Your words are softer than a whisper, said with a trembling smile.

“I love you too.” Astarion responds in kind, resting his forehead against yours. You two stay content a moment before he speaks again. “But you’re disgusting-- let me take care of you.” He pulls away from you and your left no room to argue. You merely blink, owlishly, as he pulls back. He moves to stand but you grab his hand.

“Where are you going?” You hold on to him with both hands now, and he has to pause to take the sudden fear on your face. Astarion had planned to leave to return with a little wash bin and rag but seeing you so distraught makes him pause. Of course, the last time he walked away from you he didn’t return…

“We’re going to get you cleaned up.” With a bit of a struggle, Astarion gets you to rise to your feet next to him. “Don’t make it more difficult than it has to be.” He adds. You nod slowly, still a little on edge from the panic that just flooded your system but nonetheless, trusting Astarion.

So, with the difficulty that comes with only having one hand, Astarion pins open the flaps of the tent (your light cantrip soon goes out as well, but the inside is illuminated but the torchlight of your camp). Some of the stale air you had been living in gets to escape, and you’re able to take a fresh breath of air you hadn’t realized you needed.

Astarion gathers his wash bin, and the rag, and with you in tow, rummages through that the travelers chest you seem to toss anything and everything into. But, avoiding unmatched boots and careful not to prick himself on all the arrows that are in there (and trying not to think about how they were likely dumped in there after he left), he finds what he was looking for-- some soap. And though the water is cold, and the night is cool, at least with a little bit of soap and his careful hand, it’s not all bad.

“You need to wash these clothes too,” Astarion huffs. “I know you have other things, so let’s get you into something cleaner.” You’re guided back into your shared tent (which is already starting to smell better, but the scented water is helping as well) while Astarion rifles though your clothing. Here together again, you finally let go of his hand but stay close to him.

“Thank you…” You pause, watching him pick out something comfortable and warm. “I can take care of myself, though.” You add, taking the clothing from him.

“I’m sure you can-- but I want to take care of you.” He doesn’t let go of your clothing as you try and take it. “So, let me.” His gaze flicks up to your eyes and you’re surprised to see him look so stubborn.

“Oh,” You let go of the clothing, surprised. “I… That would be nice.” You say it quietly, still too caught up in him being here, being real and touching you, loving you.

“Now, out of the nasty clothing, if you would.” He persists, grabbing the hem of your current shirt. He pauses before lifting it though, looking to your face. “That is, if you’re okay with me…” he trails, unsure.

“It’s you, so it’s okay.” You assure him. You raise your hands so he can take off the offending, stinky shirt, and toss it aside. Next, he removes your pants, tossing them the same direction.

“This might be a little cold,” Astarion tells you, but it doesn’t stop the flinch (nor the shiver) as the cool rag touches your skin. Still, his touch is delicate and careful.

He first wipes your face (part of it, still covered in blood and dirt from that same battle). He dips and wrings out the rag, before continuing his work. Your chest, your arms, legs-- all of you, gently washed and cared for. You realize this is the first time he’s been so intimate with you in a non sexual way. It’s… nice. To see his brow furrowed in concentration, have his hands upon you just hold you. It’s not like the two of you went entirely without touching one another in that time, but to have him initiating it, warms you.

“Now, back in your clothing before you catch a cold.” You nod at him and smile, sliding on the familiar pants and shirt with comfort and ease.

“I already feel a lot better, thank you.” He smiles softly, but sits you back down.

“Just let me attend to this rats nest, and we can be done.” Astarion reaches for his comb, and sits beside you. “Lean back so I can wet your hair,” He guides you down, with your head over the basin, and cups his hand to gather water before wetting your hair.

You let his work quietly, until your hair is wet and he can begin working out the knots starting at the ends. When the comb runs freely to your hair, he grabs the soap and carefully massages it into your scalp, scratching here in there. You let out a sigh in content, and Astarion can’t help but smile softly.

He was still shocked that you even talked to him-- let alone let him touch you. But the two of you needed this. To hold and be held, to love and let go. He truly was a fool to ever think he could be without you. But he was lucky, then, that you were fool enough to let him back in.

With your hair washed, combed, and dried and the water dumped and wash bin put aside, Astarion let you sit back up and look at him. “So… what happens next?” You ask softly.

“Well… I’m not sure.” He admits. “I didn’t think you would forgive me so… I hadn’t really thought much beyond that.”

“I suppose we get our rest, then.” You heave a heavy sigh. “I know I’ve taken enough time off from adventuring… And you have some friends who deserve an explanation as well.”

“More talking?” Astarion groans softly, but makes no move to leave your side as you lie down and tug him with you. “But… you are right.”

“You’ll be okay.” You give him a good, full body squeeze. “Everyone here cares for you. They’ll be willing to hear you out.”

“Perhaps only with you by my side.” He lets out a little chuckle. “But… that’s not such a bad thing.” He readjusts in your grasp, snuggling close and turning towards you. “Rest well, darling.” He kisses the top of your head, and smiles down at your sleepy expression.

“I will, now that you’re here…” It didn’t take long for sleep to find you, wound up in Astarion’s arms. You hadn’t slept so well in days, and who was he to wake you when you looked so peaceful…? It seemed like time passed so quickly with you in his arms, and before long he could hear the sounds of everyone else waking in camp.

Astarion couldn’t help but grow anxious as footsteps grew closer to the tent. “Solider, you in there?” Karlach’s voice called out. “I know you haven’t been very hungry lately, but I brought you some breakfast…” Unable to do anything to stop her, Astarion watched as Karlach pokes her head into the tent. With the morning light, they could only stare at one another a moment.

“Shh, just let them sleep a while longer…” Astarion turned from Karlach, and brushed some stray hairs from your face. “When they’re ready to wake up, I’ll… I’ll be ready to.” He turns from you, back to Karlach, a look of surprise and glee on her face.

“Right! Right… I’ll be quiet!” She gives him a little thumbs up and quickly retreats from the tent. But… Astarion can hear Karlach, even if she is all the way across camp. First, she tells Jaheira, then Minsc, and Minthara and Lae’zel overhear… Then Wyll, Shaodowheart and Halsin of course overhear and then Gale finds out, and now the whole camp is aware that he’s back here even if they are being remarkable polite about it….

Still, it brings a smile on his face. To know they were so excited to see him again (maybe even if it was only to see you happy again) was a comforting thought. To be among friends… That was something truly special indeed.

“Astarion…?” You wake slowly, eyes barely open as you look to him, hold him a little tighter.

“I’m here,” Astarion assures you, giving you a squeeze in return.

“Good…” You close your eyes and cuddle back into him, letting out a small yawn. “Let’s stay alone for just a little longer yet.”

“That can be arranged.” He can’t help but smile, and relax into you. Everyone else could wait a little longer yet-- you deserved what ever you wanted in this moment. And if that happened to be him, well, Astarion was in no place to say no.

[4unnyr0se]

❥ life of the party | suguru geto

warnings: fem! reader, college au! geto, frat boy! geto, alcohol consumption, marijuana use, sex while high, protected sex, geto is a gentlemen in the streets and a freak in the sheets, needy geto, cunnilingus, rough sex, mating press, degredation, sadist geto mention, geto is a top, shoko, gojo, nananmi, haibara, mei mei, and utahime mentioned, proofread, b99 mention, this is absolute filth

MDNI | 18+ content

word count -> 5.4k

100 follower special - i love you all so much <3

did i name this after a song by the weekend? yes i did

Being a homebody had its perks. You didn’t have to go anywhere you didn’t want to, and all of your stuff was in one place, always within arms' reach. Your remote? On the nightstand. Boom, that was your source of entertainment for the night. Who needed to out when you could binge Brooklyn Nine-Nine? Not you, that’s who. 

Introversion also came with being a homebody, like a buy-one-get-one deal. You were known for being quiet, always sitting in the back of the lecture hall with one earphone in, diligently taking notes that your classmates always asked to copy after the lecture. You never understood why people paid so much to party at university; why not just get the degree? Stay quiet, do your work, get that piece of paper, make bank. You thought that was a good life goal.

But when your best friend Shoko begged and pleaded with you to come along to a frat party that Kappa Alpha Psi was having, you really couldn’t turn her down, especially since she had sent you all her biology notes when you were out sick for a week due to allergies. So when she showed up at your university apartment with a revealing dress in one hand and a bottle of Smirnoff in the other, you begrudgingly accepted.

“So, what are frat parties like? You’ve been to what, two?” you asked, pulling down the hem of your dress. It was Shoko’s from a couple of years ago, and it fits you perfectly; the black fabric hugged all your curves in all the right places. “They’re probably loud. Should I have brought my headphones? Let’s go back and get them.” Shoko tutted at you and grabbed your wrist, pulling you beside her. Despite your reservations, a curiosity ignited within you, pushing you forward. 

“You have got to relax; you’ll be fine.” your best friend assured you, taking the cigarette from her glossed lips. “And yeah, they’re loud, but all parties are loud. That’s why they’re parties and not get-togethers.” Shoko smirked and flicked off the Smirnoff cap with her finger, the plastic barrier flying onto the grass of the frat house. “Well, we’re here. Are you ready to get shitfaced?” she didn’t even wait for you to respond, taking the vodka to her lips and taking a greedy sip. 

“Wow, you seriously wanna get drunk,” you pointed out, an eyebrow raised in concern for your dearest friend. “Am I gonna have to hold your hair back like last time?”

“Definitely,” Shoko giggled, dragging you inside the bustling house. You observed the red solo cups that littered the front lawn, which raised many questions in your already racing mind. Were the members of Kappa Alpha Psi so disrespectful that they didn’t even bother to take care of their own house? What if they were mean or even creepy towards you? Oh god, you felt yourself panic as the door closed behind the two of you, the stains on the wood not relaxing you in the slightest.

Shoko could feel your heartbeat increase and pulled you aside, cupping your cheek in assurance. “Hey, relax,” she reasoned softly, rubbing her soft thumb up and down your cheekbone. It reminded you of the time when there was a rumor going around that the two of you were lesbians, and it wasn’t entirely wrong. Shoko was a lesbian, and her girlfriend Utahime belonged to a charity sorority at another university. “You’ll be alright. Some of these guys are my friends.” 

You groaned and shifted your feet, finding your high heels too uncomfortable. “Seriously, you’re friends with some of these clowns?” your eyes landed on a man in your English class hanging off the railing, screaming about how he was king of the world. What was his name again, Haibara? “Is…is that one gonna be okay?” you pointed to his flushed face, no doubt caused by the ridiculous amount of alcohol available for consumption.

“What, Haibara? He’ll be fine, I think he’s always like this. Poor fella, kind of stupid, too. But that's why he’s a frat guy.” Shoko shrugged her exposed shoulders and walked with you to a living area, luckily finding a seat that didn’t have people making out on it. She picked up a half-drunk beer bottle and placed it in your hand, taking another puff of her cigarette.

“Uh, no thanks. I don’t know whose mouth has been on this,” you refused, placing the bottle back on the table. Your lungs inhaled the cigarette smoke, irritating your throat. “Fuck, why do you keep insisting on smoking cigarettes? Just vape like a normal person.” your hands waved away the smoke from your face. 

Shoko opened her mouth to speak, smiling as she gazed at someone standing behind you. You turned around in curiosity, raising an eyebrow. 

“Oh my god, Geto! I had no idea you went to these parties.” Shoko stood up to hug her friend, the height difference between them being hilarious. “Hey, this is my buddy Suguru. He’s a frat member, but he doesn’t go to any of the parties. How weird is that?” she giggled, clearly drunk from the vodka. 

Geto patted Shoko on her shoulder, only touching the clothed part. “I just came back for my beer,” he pointed to the table, referring to the half-empty bottle. “I forgot I left it down here, and then the party started. I figured I would get it now before someone decided it was theirs.

Shoko turned to you and grinned, her smile being so bright it could attract moths. Fuck, she definitely had an idea brewing in that head of hers. “Oh my god! You were just about to drink from that, weren’t you!” she shoved Geto onto the sofa next to you, picking up her bottle of Smirnoff. “It’s a little meet-cute, aw! You guys are so cute. Oh my god!” Shoko wouldn’t stop rambling, causing you to let out a very annoyed groan. You loved Shoko, honestly. But sometimes she was a bit much, especially when she was drunk off her ass. 

“Shoko, I think…oh my god, is that Mei Mei?” you pretending to be surprised, pointing at a crowded corner. “Doesn’t she owe you some money? I don’t think she ever paid you back, y’know.” A smirk played on Geto’s lips; he knew what you were doing.

“What, where?! Oh, that bitch! I’ll fucking cut her!” Shoko angrily yelled, storming off to find the non-existent Mei Mei. 

Geto leaned back into the sofa, shoving his hands in his pockets. “So, you do that when you don’t wanna deal with your friends as well?” he asked, sipping his beer.

You nodded and crossed your arms over your chest, unintentionally pushing your breasts upwards. “Yeah, all the time. I’m not proud of it, but sometimes Shoko is too much, especially when drunk.”

“Tell me about it,” he agreed, offering you a sip of his beer. You accepted it, now that you know it was his and not some creeps. “My best friend, Satoru, likes to pick fights when drunk. I do my best to break them up, but he doesn’t really like when I do that.” Geto sighed, getting tired just thinking about it. “You don’t like parties that much, do you?”

You looked up at his violet eyes, slightly spooked by his observation. “How did you know that? I’ve only just met you.”

Geto chuckled and took another sip of beer, observing how your lipgloss stained the textured brim of the glass. “I mean, you’re not even wearing your own dress and heels. That’s Shoko’s. She wore that exact outfit to a party last week.” he smirked, seemingly proud of himself.

You buried your face in your hands, almost embarrassed. Were you that easy to read, or was Geto really smart? “Yeah, I don’t really have any outfits to wear to a party. Why do women have to dress up while men wear, well, what you’re wearing? No offense.” you gestured to his casual white t-shirt and black sweatpants, contrasting with your tight black dress. 

“I have no idea. Maybe people feel the need to impress us? I don’t see the appeal, I’m afraid.” Geto smiled at you, standing up and offering you his hand. “You look pretty uncomfortable. Do you wanna borrow some of my clothes? Sorry if I’m being too forward.” he smiled softly, a faint cherry blush dusting his pale face. 

“Sure, why not?” you shrugged, taking Geto’s hand. You noticed how much larger it was than your own, how it completely engulfed your smaller hand. Geto noticed as well; the blush is growing just a tad darker. “Besides, Shoko might kill me if I get a stain on this dress. I’m 99% sure she used it to go clubbing in.” you chuckled, following Geto up the frat house stairs. It was littered with red solo cups, couples making out, and other lewd acts. You’re not sure why you were surprised; it was a frat house. Everyone at this damn party was depraved. 

Weaving through the mess of bodies in the uppermost level of the frat house, Geto finally reached his room. After struggling to find the correct key to unlock his door, he let you inside and quickly locked the door.

“Um, why did you lock it?” you asked, your heartbeat quickening. Did he secretly have something absolutely sinister planned?

“So no one can come in here to fuck on my bed.” his smile was reassuring, comforting. Geto flicked on the lamp beside his neatly made bed, illuminating your two faces. His room was immaculately neat, and it was kind of gross to look at. His pillows always had a partner, and his sheets had no stains on the precious cotton (or silk?) material. There wasn’t a scuff or scratch on any of the wooden furniture, and even his fucking shoes were color-coordinated.

“The shirt might be a little big on you, sorry.” Geto handed you a spare t-shirt that had The Weeknd written on it. “I got it at a concert a while back when I went with Satoru. It was really good.” he also handed you a pair of his sweatpants, boasting the school color of navy blue. “I’ll turn around and cover my eyes, don’t worry. I can even go out in the hallway if you like.” 

You were taken aback at his politeness, not expecting it from a member of such an…interesting frat. “You can just turn around. I trust you not to peak,” you assured him, shimmying out of your dress once Geto faced the wall. He was whistling in an awkward attempt to break the silence, which you found kind of adorable. The fabric of his shirt wasn’t the best quality, but it was warm and quite big on you. His sweatpants were as well; you looked like a baby penguin. Your hair was put into a very messy bun, but your eyeliner and mascara still look okay. 

“You can turn around now, I’m decent.” After giving Geto permission, he turned around and uncovered his violet eyes. His gaze instantly landed on how loose his shirt was on you like it was swallowing you entirely. He’d be lying to himself if he said you didn’t look absolutely adorable because you really did look so fucking adorable. Geto was tall, so his clothes usually made anyone else drown in them, but this time, it was different. This time, he felt attracted to the person wearing his clothes. Geto found his mind spiraling, thinking why he had never seen how cute you were before. Were you just not around his side of the campus? Geto didn’t know, maybe he was overthinking this whole thing. Fuck, seeing you in his shirt made him spiral for a moment there. 

“You look comfortable,” he smiled, his sleepy eyes not leaving yours. “Do you wanna watch a movie or something? To distract from the shitty music downstairs, I don’t know why I let Nanami make the soundtrack when all he puts on it is My Chemical Romance…” Geto trailed off, putting a hand on his hips. His fingernails were painted black, which you thought was cute. 

“Yeah, I’m down for a movie. What did you have in mind?” you sat down on his bed, bouncing slightly on the plush mattress. 

Geto sat down beside you, giving you a comfortable amount of space. “Hm, wanna watch a horror movie? I know a trick that will turn everything the villain does into something funny.” he looked at you, wiggling his eyebrows playfully. 

You titled your head to the side and gave him a quizzical look. “Such as?”

Geto reached across your body, accidentally staring at your clothed chest for a second. He opened his bedside table and pulled out an expensive-looking dab pen. 

“I didn’t take you for a smoker, Geto,” you smirked, leaning closer to look at the device better. “This doesn’t look cheap either; it’s got a battery and everything. Damn.”

Geto chuckled and clicked the pen on as the movie’s intro credits played. “I take it you know your stuff?” He held the pen to his lips, not taking a hit just yet.

You shrugged and pretended to brush your hair over your shoulders. “Maybe I’m just that smart,” you playfully wink, giggling. “Nah, I’m messing with you. My freshmen-year roommate was a pretty heavy smoker, so I got a good look at her supplies. I’ve smoked before.” You took the pen from his hand, clicked the button on the side, and took a minor hit. The vapor filled your lungs and came through your nose, causing you to cough a little. “Holy fuck, you have strong weed.”

Geto chuckled at your coughing, rubbing your neck. He took a hit of the pen, barely coughing at all. “Yeah, well, I like to relax. Keeps me sane, y’know? In this house, you gotta have your vices, or you might lose your mind.”

“Tell me about it,” you grumbled, looking at your feet in Shoko’s high heels. Why were you wearing heels to a frat party? Ugh, Shoko always managed to talk you into doing stupid shit. “I smoked a lot in high school, but that was mainly because of the academic pressure. I was an honor roll student and am now on the dean's list. Go figure, right? Huge fucking nerd over here.” you pointed to yourself and laughed, eyebrows furrowed.

Geto rolled his eyes and swatted your hands down, giving you a stern look. “Don’t put yourself down like that, not ever. Being a nerd is a good thing.” He gestured to his door, the only barricade from the chaos outside. “Eventually, the idiots out there will work for you. That’s gotta mean something, right?”

“Hell yeah,” you high-fived him, blushing at the contact. Once again, you were staring at how much larger his hands were than yours. In fact, all of him was larger than yourself. “All those assholes will work under me, just you wait and see.”

“Mm, confidence. That’s something the girl in the movie has too much of. She thinks she’ll survive,” the screen displayed a horrid image of the petite blonde girl with a bear trap encasing her rib cage, killing her instantly. “But she won’t. These things are so fucking predictable.”

You giggled as the girl’s face contorted in horror, her eyes lifeless on the small television at the end of Geto’s bed. “You were right; weed makes the deaths seem funny. Are they all idiots?” You smile at him, a loose strand of hair dangling from your bun. 

Geto curled the strand of hair with his index finger and tucked it behind your ear, brushing gently on your tender cheek. “Yeah, they must all be idiots.” His voice was deep and low, mouth slightly agape. Maybe it was because he was high, but Geto was absolutely mesmerized by your beauty. How you looked fucking delectable in his clothes, in his shirt. Your lips looked so soft; would you mind if he kissed them? Just for a second, to see if they were as soft as a petal. Just for one agonizingly slow second? Fuck, Geto had never wanted anyone so badly in his entire fucking life.

“Geto, you’re staring.” You muttered, your voice falling upon deaf ears as Geto unconsciously leaned closer. “N-now, you’re getting really fucking close.” His hot breath made your skin tingle, goosebumps rising on the flesh of your exposed forearms. Your lips were parted as well, centimeters away from his own. You could see every imperfection on his face, especially the bags under his eyes, which made him even more attractive. He looked so tired, so sleepy, so ethereally handsome. 

“Please,” he breathed against your lips, rubbing your cheek with his thumb. His voice was deep and desperate, breath somewhat shakey. “Please, let me kiss you, baby. You’re so pretty.”

Nodding slowly, you brought your lips to kiss so they were ghosting over each other; it was barely even a kiss. You wanted him to make the first move, to be the gentlemen he had been to you at the start of the party. “Kiss me, Geto.”

Having been given your approval, Geto pressed his lips against yours. The kiss was slow and gentle, his hands cupping your face while rubbing up and down on your cheekbones. The kiss was incredibly fragile, so very delicate. Your lips moved together in tandem, neither of you knowing if the other was okay with the intensity of the moment increasing to something a bit more depraved and desperate. 

You cautiously reached up and grabbed the hair tie that held his bun in place, taking it off and snapping it around your wrist. Geto’s dark hair fell onto his shoulders, creating the most beautiful display. Your hands wasted no time grabbing his locks and tangling them with your fingers, curling the strands beneath them. A spark set off in Geto, his lips becoming more aggressive with your plush ones. He pressed his body closer to yours, his hand traveling from your face to your lower back, pulling you in. They landed on the small of your waist, dipping under the fabric of your (his) t-shirt. His hands massaged gentle circles on the flesh, eliciting the cutest little squeak from your occupied mouth. 

Waves after waves of arousal surged through Geto’s body, his hands now desperately squeezing into your waist. He broke the kiss, staring into your eyes as the both of you gasped for air. “Fuck, baby,” he moaned softly, attaching his lips to your sensitive neck, trailing a path of fiery kisses down to your collarbone. His teeth grazed the bone as possession took over his body, latching onto the spot right above your collarbone. Your supple skin felt absolutely lovely under his tongue, he was struggling to maintain control of his faculties. The way your face contorted in pleasure didn’t help either, angelic moans falling from your bruised lips as your hands remained tangled in his midnight strands. 

You pulled Geto away from your neck, his saliva covering the bright purple hickey. You stared into his violet eyes, your face flushed and your breathing heavy. The two of you stared at each other briefly, your minds fuzzy from the kissing high. Or was it the marijuana that made you feel like you were floating?

“Geto,” you muttered, your hands adventuring to play with the hem of his shirt. “Make me feel good.”

That was all Geto needed; what he longed to hear came from your pretty mouth. He shoved you down onto the mattress with a grunt, wedging his knee between your thighs. His lips attacked your neck once more, sucking and biting and licking with a purpose. His shirt was long forgotten, tossed behind him, and landed on the television screen. Geto shifted his knee to massage your clothed core, earning him a pretty little yelp. “Yeah, you like that?” He groaned against your neck, kissing the spot behind your ear. “You want me to grind down on you more, pretty thing?” Fuck, his voice was a drug in and of itself. It was practically fucking dripping with honey. 

Your hands were running up and down on his abs, your long nails causing a sensation that Geto could only hope to describe. “Please, please, Geto. Need it, please.” You whispered, grinding yourself down onto his knee, so desperate for any kind of friction you could receive. 

“Do you always get this needy when you’re high, dollface?” He purred against your neck, removing the top you wore with no trouble. The light from the movie only did so much to illuminate the bra you wore, not that Geto cared much for lingerie. He was too focused on what was hiding beneath the lacy fabric. “Take this off. Fuck, I love needy girls.” He commanded, the bulge in his sweatpants growing with each passing second. 

You unclasped your bra and tossed it aside, shivering as the cold air made your nipples grow hard. Geto attacked your breasts within an instant, his tongue rolling over your right breast while his hand paid careful attention to the other, the sensations not being too weak or too strong on either side. Soft moans escaped your lips, the feeling of want bubbling inside your core as Geto suckled at your chest like he was made for you. “Ngh, not too hard! M’sensitive there,” you gasped as his teeth grazed the sensitive bud, scolding him. 

“Sorry princess, s’not my fault you got such pretty tits,” he chuckled, letting go of your breast with a pop. His hand trailed down your midriff, toying with the hem of the sweatpants you wore. His sweatpants. “Let’s take these off, okay? After all,” he hovered his mouth against your ear, licking the shell like a tease. “You gotta be nice and prepped so I can fuck you senseless.”

Geto peeled his sweatpants off your legs, the fabric pooling at your ankles. He lifted your legs so they rested on his strong shoulders, pulling his face closer to your aching core. He smirked at the little wet patch displayed on your panties, his nose rubbing against your clothed cunt. His teeth bit down on the thin fabric and pulled them aside, the lighting in the room doing your gorgeous pussy no favors.

“Shit, you’re soaked,” Geto whispered, his hot tongue sliding up your folds, the cutest little moan falling from your lips. His tongue drew playful circles on your throbbing clit, smirking as you whimpered and pleaded for more. 

The faint screams coming from the television were long forgotten as Geto indulged himself in your core, groaning occasionally as your sweet nectar coated his tongue. It was like ambrosia to him, the sweetest thing he’s ever tasted. He dipped his tongue into your welcoming entrance, swirling around oh-so-carefully. He went as deep as he could, practically burying his face in your needy cunt. 

“Shit, Geto!” You cried, your nails leaving angry crescent-shaped imprints on his muscular back. Geto didn’t mind, he could just show it off later. While the rest of those idiots were getting drunk on alcohol, Geto was drunk off of you. Your everything was so intoxicating. You relished the feeling of his tongue inside of you. Was he spelling his name with his tongue? He chuckled occasionally, sending vibrations so deep inside you that it almost sent you over the edge every time. 

He rhythmically plunged his tongue inside your weeping entrance, desperate to explore every single inch of you. His tongue would accidentally flick over that most sensitive spot inside of you, making you whine in pathetic delight. Geto was observant, memorizing what flicking and sucking matters made your legs tighten around his face. He teased you relentlessly, just keeping you on the verge of orgasm. 

Geto nibbled on your sensitive clit, moaning as you desperately tugged on his hair. “Geto, please! Fuck, oh my God! I’m gonna cum, shit!” You sobbed, thighs trembling in agonizingly extreme euphoria. 

He pulled away as soon as those words left your mouth, his face covered in your slick and his saliva. Geto winked at you and shoved his sweatpants off of his toned body, removing yours from your ankles as well. Fuck, he needed to fuck you right then and there, or it would kill him. He craved to fill you, to fuck you, to make you scream his name so everyone downstairs would know who was getting it on. 

His boxers long forgotten about, Geto’s dick stood hard and eager between his legs, slapping onto his rock-hard abs. You gasped as you saw the silhouette of his cock, wishing you could be able to see it in its full glory. “Fuck, you’re huge. A-are you sure it’ll fit inside me?” You whimpered, spreading your legs as you lay in missionary.

“Don’t worry, baby, I’ll make it fit.” Geto purred, giving you a quick kiss. You could taste yourself on his tongue, a sensation you never thought you would experience before today. 

“Uh, do you have a condom?” you sheepishly asked, squeezing your legs together. “No offense, but I don’t know where that monster has been.”

“Relax, don’t worry,” he assured you, reaching into his nightstand drawer. Geto rummaged around briefly before pulling out a little foil square. “I’d never make you uncomfortable.” He ripped open the packet with his teeth, rolling the latex onto his cock with ease. 

Geto parted your legs, pushing them into your chest so you were on display for him and him alone. He had folded you into a mating press, his cock prodding at your entrance. “God, I can’t wait to fuck you senseless.” he groaned as his tip slid inside of you, your pussy practically swallowing it whole. You gasped at the sensation, hands desperately pawing at his biceps for support. Geto slowly pushed the rest of his throbbing cock inside of your core, hissing as he felt your gummy walls contract around him. “Fuck, you feel so fucking good,” he moaned, kissing your neck tenderly. 

“S-so fucking big,” you moaned, running your hands up and down his toned arms. “Just fuck me already, please, I need it,” your voice was laced with a desperate and demanding tone, eliciting a growl from Geto’s throat. 

“Good slut,” he spoke with approval, his large hands slapping the backs of your plush thighs. He pulled out just barely and then quickly slammed himself back into your sobbing core. A grunt left his lips at the sensation, a squeak emitting from yours. You felt heavenly to him, a new kind of drug he had yet to take. Everything was fucking perfect at the moment, especially how your greedy cunt took him so well. You were such a slut, his slut. So warm, so wet.

He continued to pound into you, throwing his head back slightly to his massive Adam’s apple, which was front and center. Your arousal completely coated his length, and he was able to slide in and out with ease, especially with the help of the condom. God, he filled you up so fucking good. His head was hitting that perfect spot so deep inside of you, the most forbidden fruit. Geto’s thrusts were quick, calculated, and desperate. His cock bullied its way into your core over and over again, wanton moans and cries of pleasure leaving the lips that Geto loved so much. 

“God, how are you so fucking wet?” Geto grunted into your neck, his hot breath making the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. “Had no idea that you were such a slut, I would have just bent you over that fucking couch and had my way with you.” He slapped the back of your thighs once more, observing how you squeezed around him. “Oh, do you like being hit, pretty girl? Is that it? Y’want me to hit that pretty face of yours?” His voice was laced with a mocking tone, punctuation at the end of his sentence with a quick slap across your flushed face. 

“Fuck!” you squeaked out, the bubbling feeling in your stomach returning as Geto pistoned his monster cock in and out of your wanton cunt. The way his gentle personality was ripped away the second your lips touched his made you so fucking horny, your orgasm close. 

Geto smirked wickedly and pressed his body even closer to yours, finding the new angle much easier to get those lovely little screams to come out of your mouth. “Yeah, you like it when I slap you, hm? I can feel that fucking pussy milking me, fuck, that’s gonna be the death of me.” He grunted, his thrusts becoming staggered and random. His cock twitched inside of you, equally desperate to feel nirvana. “Fuck, cum with me, yeah? Wanna feel you make a mess all over my fucking cock.”

“M-mhm! Fuck!” you sobbed, fat tears running down your face. Your hand desperately massaged your clit, allowing you to fall off the edge and into euphoria finally. Your mouth opened in the silent cry, eyes squeezing shut as heaven enveloped your burning body. 

“Shit!” Geto gasped, his orgasm following without giving a warning. “Fuck, fucking take it! Yeah, fucking take me!” his thrusts eased down after a moment, his hands letting go of your legs. He collapsed into your chest, giving your breast a quick kiss. “Holy shit, baby,” Geto mumbled into your sweaty skin, pushing his hair away from his sticky face. “That was the best fuck I’ve had in a long time.”

You slowly nodded and kissed his cheek, Geto’s cock still buried inside your core. You whimpered as he pulled himself out, tying the used condom off and tossing it inside a waste basket. “That was the first fuck I’ve had here,” you mumbled, massaging his scalp with your long nails.

“Oh shit, I didn’t take your virginity, right?” Geto asked, slightly panicked. You quickly shook your head, cupping the left side of his blushing face. 

“No, don’t worry. I’m not a virgin. I just haven’t had sex with anybody on campus. Until now.”

“Oh, thank fucking God.” Geto sighed in relief, sitting up against the headboard. He wrapped his arm around you, kissing the top of your forehead. “Still, that was one hell of a ride.”

“Yeah, it was fucking amazing. You know I’ve never had a vaginal orgasm before that?” you giggled, leaning up to peck his lips. Your gaze turned to the television, noticing that the end credits were playing. “Damn, guess we missed the movie.”

“How tragic,” Geto spoke with mock sorrow, pulling you closer to him. “I guess you’ll just have to come to see me so we can rewatch it.” He smirked, trailing his fingers up and down your back. 

You laughed and kissed his cheek again, rolling out of the bed. “I’d be more than happy to,” you bent down to pick up the clothes he lent you, earning you a swift slap on your ass. “Hey!” you grunted, turning to see Geto looking very pleased with himself. 

“I did absolutely nothing wrong,” he teased, crossing his arms over his pectorals. “Keep the clothes, they look better on you anyway.” 

You smiled and nodded, butterflies filling your stomach. “Can I wear them next time I come over?” 

“I insist,” he got up from his bed, kissing your head. “I usually only do one-night-stands…but you’re different. I like that.”

“Man, stop with this flattery. You already fucked me,” you sighed, pretending to be annoyed with Geto. As soon as you were dressed, your hand hovered over the doorknob before it started rattling frantically.

“Yo, are you in there, girl? We gotta go, Haibara barfed on my shoes!” Shoko’s voice was incredibly loud and slurred, no different from usual. “They were my good shoes, too, that fucking dickhead!”

Geto laughed as you facepalmed, shooting him a look of disappointment. “Well, I should probably go. Do you want my number or something?” you bent down again to pick up Shoko’s dress and heels, making sure not to forget them.

“Please,” Geto handed you his phone, smiling to himself.

“There you go, put whatever name you want,” you unlocked the door and winked, licking your bottom lip. “Text me whenever you wanna see the rest of that movie.” you closed the door behind you and grabbed a very drunk Shoko’s hand, leading her downstairs and out the door.

Geto sighed and sat on his bed, reaching behind his back to run his fingers over the scratches you had left. A ghost of a smile touched his lips, looking at your phone number on his screen. 

Maybe frat parties didn’t totally suck after all.

[fangirl-dot-com]

🏆 Sei a Casa, Charles 

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Reader Genre: Fluff, Comfort, Light smut Summary: Monaco finally loved him back. Charles is home.

*my long awaited Charles Monaco win imagine! it is completed after my computer was finally fixed and after 30+ hours of having no power at my house. it's been a rough couple of days, but I'm still reeling in the moment that Charles won his home race.

*A big thank you goes to @pucksandpower for helping me with the smut parts. you all know that I can't write anything beyond a small make out sesh. you all will know what parts she wrote! but look for this ✨ if you want to skip it!

TAG LIST IS CLOSED

You couldn’t pick out the exact moment of when you started to cry. 

Was it lap 1? Lap 20? Lap 76? Maybe tears finally started to leak from your eyes as you stood under the podium, waiting for the love of your life to finally appear? Or were the tears drops of champagne that flowed from his winner’s bottle? 

You didn’t know, but you knew that the pride in your heart could not be contained internally. It had to escape somewhere, so it formed itself into tears that were shed as you watched the whole vast of Monaco finally love Charles back. 

You remembered the past times you cried as you stood below. 

Tears from him, from you, and from the both of you stained the past asphalt here in the principality. Disappointment after disappointment would forever be written in the streets of Monte Carlos. However, today was the rain that would wash everything away. 

Today was the day the sun finally shone once again. 

But the sun would not dry the tears of pride from your face, you wouldn’t let it. The testament of your love and pride could make divots in your face for the rest of time, and you’d never want to fill them. 

The applause around you grew as Carlos walked out, waving below. You could guess that the Spaniard knew that these people weren’t for him. They weren’t for anyone other than the green-eyed man in red. 

More applause sounded as the green and yellow suit of Oscar stood out against the red of everything else. Your partially adopted son for the weekend caught your eye and gave you a sad smile. You could only shake your head, hoping to relay that these tears were finally not for a broken heart. 

The moment the applause grew to screams, yells, and everything in between, you knew what it meant. In this moment, everything stood still in the chaos. Flags of red, yellow, red and white flew around your face. Joris stood behind you, hand on the small of your back to keep you steady. 

But like you, his tears didn’t stop: they multiplied. 

Finally, you had the courage to look up and gaze upon the subject of praise that would ring for all of eternity. You couldn’t help but join in, making a small dent in history for yourself. 

Pride seemed to double, tripling the number of tears that fell. You knew a camera was focused on you, but nothing could take your eyes away from him on the step, flag in his trembling hands. You were almost silently saying, “Turn the camera on the man who has rewritten his and the country’s history.” 

You watched as your prince wrapped his arms around his most precious gift. No one had been able to do what he did. A national treasure for the rest of time. 

You witnessed your princess hug him dearly. His hands still trembled as he clutched his red and white flag. If it made him feel any better, you were trembling too, along with the hosts of Monaco. The people trembled in their spots, the flags swished back and forth. Hell, the boats in the port still roared for him, almost thirty minutes after he had crossed that beloved finish line. 

When he finally turned to face the crowd below, your world went silent as your focus pinpointed on Charles. 

History’s Charles. Monaco’s Charles. Formula One’s Charles. 

Your Charles. 

A laugh finally bullied its way through your tears as you saw him accidentally drop the flag and scramble to pick it up. Joris had started to rub your back, knowing that you needed some comfort. Where Joris was, there you were too. 

The two of you liked to claim both spots of Charles’s right and left sides. Deemed the best WAGs by fans everywhere, you wouldn’t want to be anywhere but next to the boys. He had had a chance to race down to see your race winner before he had to go to the cooldown room. You had wanted to run with him, an invisible force wanted to drag you along. But you had stayed, to comfort and hug the people around you. 

Where Joris was on your left, Arthur was on your right. He looked so much like his brother. The boy, who you had watched grow through his own disappointments and sorrows, also had his tears. 

Today, however, every tear shed was the opposite of sorrows. They weren’t of heavy hearts or disappointments. 

Every tear shed was pride incarnate. 

The podium ended with Charles almost being drowned by his teammate and “adopted son.” How you wished you could be up there with him. You knew, though, that you’d have your time with him soon. 

When you were allowed to leave, Charles’s driver room was the first place you’d go. In the back of your mind, you knew that he’d still be a while, the media taking up his time. And after was the principality dinner, and then probably Jimmyz with however many people you could fit in the club. 

But then, after the whole of Monaco had a piece of him, he’d be yours. 

The door opening caught your attention as you looked up from your phone. Many say that second- or third-place-Charles still had a smile, but it wasn’t a true one. Today was a testament to that stamen as he walked in with the biggest smile on his face. 

If he could shine, he’d rival the sun. 

A sigh escaped Charles’s lips when he saw you sitting on his couch after he was done with media. He could see that your mascara had slightly run, the only clues that you had cried. 

“Mon ange,” he said as he dove into your awaiting arms. He felt damp under your hands, a mix of champagne and port water. You were ready for him to drop on you, and you welcomed the familiar weight. 

“My race winner,” you whispered, pressing a long kiss to his hairline. Charles had none of that as he leaned up to press his lips against yours, wanting a true feeling of you next to him. He could die happily now if he needed to. 

Your hands wrapped themselves in his hair, lightly tugging him back so that you could breathe. A low whine escaped him, making you lean your head back in laughter: his favorite sound of all. 

“We have to get going,” you gently reminded him, already in the process of standing up. “And you need to shower. You stink.” 

When you looked back down, Charles was definitely trying the puppy eyes on you, a pout joining on his lips. You shook your head. 

“None of that, Char. You know that only Leo can pull off the eyes.” 

Grumbles responded as he begrudgingly pulled himself off the couch. You knew that you only had a certain amount of time before people came looking for Charles. At that moment, you wanted to whisk him away, keep him from anyone for the rest of the night. However, your moments together wouldn’t happen until either late into the night or early in the morning. 

You could wait, he’s waited long enough for this. 

As the two of you quickly got ready after Charles biked home, which you thought was ridiculous, you enjoyed the quiet of your home. He seemed a bit on the quiet side, but you thought that he might be saving his energy for what was to come. You had picked out a very nice black dress that hugged your figure in just the right areas. 

When you walked into the living area, Charles’s back was to you, his hand patting his pocket. You cleared your voice, making him turn around. 

Charles’s breath caught in his throat at the sight of you. He stalked over and placed his hands on your hips, bringing you flush against him. 

“I think I must have died for an angel is before me.” 

You scoffed, hitting his shoulder lightly. 

“I must have done something good in my past life to have my own prince,” you said, hands joining together at his nape. Charles, aware of the time, led you over to the door, opening it for you. Below, his Ferrari Competizione waited to take you to the dinner. 

Charles didn’t know what he was expecting when he got there, but a standing ovation wasn’t one of them. You had to hold back more tears, as you didn’t want your makeup to be ruined. You stood with the halls of Monaco to honor Charles for his moment. 

Pascale, Arthur, and Joris watched you as you kept clapping with the others. The three knew that you loved Charles probably more than you loved anything else in life. You two had been together for five years, going through the ups and downs together. It was hard, but your love strengthened with every hurdle. 

When Charles got to sit back down as they started on the first course, you leaned over. 

“So, are you going to be knighted or something now?” 

Your question made him snort as he wiped his hands on his pants. It was probably nerves. He licked his lips, eyes flittering at the three who were watching on with hopeful eyes. In his mind, he knew that Antoine was waiting behind at a different table.

“I was hoping to be titled something else?” 

You cocked your head. “Oh? What were you thinking?” 

He didn’t answer, but his head moved to look at something on the table. Your eyes followed his line of sight to a small black box sitting in front of your plate.

Oh. 

You whipped your head back to Charles, who had a hopeful smile on his face. Your hands rose to cover your mouth. 

“You’re being serious?” you questioned, voice hitching with excitement. The small nod of his head made you want to squeal, but you kept in inside. Charles knew that you were a bit on the shyer side and probably didn’t want him to get down on one knee, so he gently reached over to grab the box. He turned to you and popped it open.

He grabbed the bottom of your chair and slid it next to him so that your shoulders were touching. He looked over, and it was his turn to have tears sliding down his cheeks. 

“Mon coeur. Mon amour. Mon soleil. Mon vie. You are the best thing that I have in this world, and after today I know that no race win could ever compare to you. Please let me be happy for the rest of my life with you.” 

This time, you let the tears fall as you nodded your head. “Yes.” 

Charles let out a sigh of relief as he took the ring from the box and slid it on your finger. Small claps came from the three at the table, as to not bring attention to the sweet and intimate moment. You leaned over and placed a kiss on his lips and rested your forehead against his. 

“Only if you’ll let me be happy for the rest of my life with you.” 

Charles lost his voice, too deep in emotion and happiness to answer. So, a simple nod would have to make due. 

Arthur decided to make a statement. “You both are going to get so wasted tonight.” 

The table erupted with laughter, because you knew he was correct. Charles deserved a party, and that’s what he was going to get. 

You at least had the smart thought process to keep your ring at the bottom of your purse that you carried in the club. Your hand clutched the handle, not letting anyone get near it in fear of having it be ripped out of your hand. 

Pierre was one of the first to congratulate you and Charles. The Frenchman held the two of you in his arms as he whispered congratulations. He wasn’t the only driver that knew of Charles’s plan. 

You smiled as your eyes caught Charles with the Monaco flag over his head. You had to pause your conversation with Max, jutting your head in the Monegasque’s direction. 

“I better go get him.” 

Max wiggled his eyebrows. “Wouldn’t want him to get into an inchident would we?”  

You playfully bumped your shoulder against his as you walked in Charles’s direction. If you thought your boyfriend’s eyes were wide before, they found even more room to widen when he made eye contact with you. 

Charles raised his arms up. “Mon ange! Everyone, it’s my fiancé! I’m getting married!” 

You wanted to wince as you prayed that everyone either was too drunk to comprehend his screeching or that they couldn’t hear him over the sound of the bass. 

You grabbed his arm and brought him closer. “I think it’s time to go home.” 

He nodded immediately. “Oui, oui. We need to go make beuacoup de bebes!” 

You flushed red under the lights of the club as Charles now dragged you along, Monegasque flag still over his head. Now you were really hoping that no one heard. You knew that he was joking though. However, when you got home, he might have been serious. 

The bass of the club still rang in your ears as you stumbled through the door of your apartment, lips locked with Charles in a passionate kiss. He fumbles blindly for the light switch, finally bathing the entryway in a soft glow as you pull apart breathlessly. 

“Mon belle,” Charles murmurs huskily, brushing a stray lock of hair from your face. His eyes are shining with a mix of exhilaration and adoration. “My amazing fiancé. The true winner today.”

You let out a breathless giggle, feeling giddy and invincible in the wake of his historic Monaco win. “I just stood on the sidelines and cheered. You’re the one who drove like a demon out there.”

“Couldn’t have done it without you,” he says fervently, capturing your lips again in a searing kiss. His hands roam hungrily over the curve of your waist, the soft swell of your hips, pulling you flush against him. You can feel the rumble of his groan against your mouth as your fingers tangle in his sweat-dampened curls.

“Bedroom,” you whimpered between heated kisses, already tugging at the buttons of his button up. “Now.”

✨

Charles needed no further encouragement, sweeping you up into his arms in one fluid motion. You let out a squeal of surprise that quickly morphs into breathless laughter as he carries you down the hallway. Kicking open the bedroom door, he deposits you onto the luxuriously soft mattress before stretching out beside you, propped up on one elbow.

“You are so beautiful, mon chérie,” he husks, trailing a line of scorching kisses along your jawline. “My perfect girl.”  

“And you’re an overachiever,” you tease, smoothing the crinkles from his furrowed brow with gentle fingers. “Winning your home race. Proposing at the principality dinner. What more could a you ever want?”

Charles let out a low chuckle, capturing your wandering hand and brushing his lips over your knuckles. “Just you. It’s always you.”

You felt your cheeks warming at his words, the sheer intensity of his forest-eyed gaze. Even after all this time, he still had a way of making you feel like the only girl in the world. Sliding one hand around the back of his neck, you pull him down for a long, smoldering kiss.

“I love you,” you whisper against his lips between heated caresses. “My champion. Mon fiancé.”

He lets out a low groan, deepening the kiss until you’re both dizzily breathless and straining against each other with a rising tide of desire. His clever fingers are already making quick work of the buttons on your dress, pushing the satiny fabric off your shoulders in one smooth motion.  

You arch against him with a soft moan as his lips blaze a path over your collarbones, dancing lower to the hollow of your throat. Every brush of his mouth against your tingling skin has heat unfurling low in your belly. 

“Off,” you demand impatiently, tugging at the stubborn zipper of his pants until he finally kicks off the sweat-dampened fabric. His skin is feverishly hot to the touch, the lean muscles of his back rippling under your stroking palms as he settles over you.

Another breathless giggle escapes your lips as he nuzzles along the sensitive curve of your neck, whispering a stream of endearments. “You are insatiable.”

“Only for you, mon coeur,” he rumbles, amusement dancing in the depths of those enchanting eyes as he props himself up on his forearms to gaze down at you adoringly. “My everything. Ma vie.”

His mouth covers yours again in a long, drugging kiss that has your toes curling against the soft sheets. You lose yourself in the velvet glide of his tongue, the addictive taste of him, the delicious weight of his body pinning you to the mattress. Every nerve ending feels electrified by his scorching touch, every brush of skin against skin lighting up new sparks of longing.

When you finally break apart to catch your breath, Charles presses his forehead to yours with a contented sigh. “What did I do to deserve you, mon ange?”

Cradling his face in your hands, you meet his intense gaze steadily. “You won my love. Every single ounce of it.”

His smile is radiant, lighting up the room more brilliantly than a thousand racing spotlights as he leans in to capture your lips again. This time the kiss is softer, more tender — a communion between two souls completely lost in each other. He let his hand trail up your forearm and settled in in your palm. 

Your ring, that you had put back on in the car, felt cold against his fingers. He shivered at the feeling. You were his for the rest of his life. 

You and he lost all track of time in that blissful tangle of limbs, trading fevered caresses and breathless whispers of adoration. When climax was finally reached between the two of you, you let yourself bask in the pants coming from yours and his lips. 

Charles watched as you slightly winced as he pulled out, gently comforting you with sweet words. He quickly got up to grab a towel from the bathroom, wetting it with some water before going back to bed. Charles let his eyes gaze over your form, still coming down from the high. 

When he didn’t make any moves to get closer, you turned your head and sleepily smiled at him, arms reaching out. It was only then that Charles walked back over to the bed. He quickly wiped you down, and then himself before grabbing the duvet at the edge of the bed. 

You hummed lazily when the fluffy blanket was draped over your body. You scooted over and laid your head on his chest. 

“Welcome home, Charles. You’re finally home. Je t’aime.” 

Home, to him, would never be a place anymore. Because why would he need a place, when he could hold his home, his world, right in his arms. 

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[a-chip-in-inosukes-nichirin]

Ameliorate

Fandom: Kimetsu no Yaiba/Demon Slayer

Rating: Explicit- Minors DNI (18+ only)

Genre: Smut

Pairing: Sanemi/Female Reader

Tags: Female Reader, Penis in Vagina Sex, Bad Dates, Brief Mentions of SA, Oral Sex, Protective Genya, Protective Sanemi, Fucking you better, Slight Self-Esteem Issues, Mating Press, Sexual Tension, Sanemi is a lovable asshole

Wordcount: 5k

Ameliorate: To make something unsatisfactory better

After a bad date you spill the beans that you think Genya's brother is hot and he decides to fuck the memory of your shitty date out of you.

Cross-posted from my AO3 account.

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

8627 45th Street SOS pls pick me up ASAP

The hastily sent text was minimal, blunt, and out of character for you. Usually, your messages were sprinkled with extraneous words, emojis, and “please” and “thank you”. You had no time for flowery language today; you needed a quick extraction.

You were hidden in the bathroom, date passed out on the bed after possibly the worst sex you’d ever experienced- for how long, you weren’t sure. Hopefully just enough for you to get out of here.

You weren’t known for making the best decisions and tended to go along with things longer than you wanted to in the name of politeness. It had landed you in many shitty situations, but this was by far the worst one. You rinsed your mouth with water in an attempt to wash the taste of the man who’d been far too rough with you from your palate, holding back the need to gag. You’d done enough of that today, and it was barely noon; a striking contrast to how you felt.

Your phone vibrated, Genya’s number lighting up the screen. You answered it with shaky fingers, keeping your voice low as you spoke.

“Hey.”

You hated how raspy it sounded. That’s what happens when an asshole doesn’t listen when you tell him to be gentle.

“You okay?” Genya’s concerned voice came through the speaker. “We’re almost there; what’s up?”

You appreciated Genya’s swift response but stiffened at his words.

“We?”

“I’m out with Nemi,” Genya told you.

Sanemi.

Genya’s big brother, and the last person you wanted to see you in this state. You couldn’t afford to be picky, though, when you were stranded at a stranger’s house after a variety of bad decisions.

“Just text me when you’re outside. Don’t honk or anything.”

“Are you safe?”

“Yeah…”

Just having a shitty day.

“We’re just around the corner,” Genya informed you.

“Okay. Be out in a sec.”

You hung up the phone and wished between your legs didn’t ache so badly, wished you weren’t half-limping from everything. There were likely bruises on your wrists and thighs, probably on your ass too if you were being honest. Under different circumstances you would’ve been proud of them, but today you only felt disgust.

You’d been so stupid.

Shuffling out of the bathroom on your tiptoes, you crept past the bedroom door that was left ajar, catching a glance at the man who’d cajoled until you caved, then didn’t listen when you said you weren’t fucking ready yet.

So stupid.

You berated yourself as you softly closed the door behind you for your walk of shame to the vaguely familiar SUV parked on the street. Genya twisted to look at you from the passenger seat as you slid in, avoiding his eyes. You knew you looked like a mess: mascara had streaked, and eyeliner was smudged, hair mussed beyond its normal windswept tousle, and it was a miracle that the majority of the damage inflicted on you was covered by your turtleneck.

“No car?”

“In the shop for repairs,” you kept your eyes glued out of the window, knowing Genya was worried but ashamed to meet his gaze. “I appreciate the ride. Didn’t mean to encroach on bro-time.”

“Not a problem,” Sanemi’s voice cut through the air as he pulled away. You shivered at his words, wetting your lips nervously. “You weren’t too far out of the way.”

“You okay?” Genya asked.

You wrinkled your nose, fighting the shame that filled your throat.

“Bad date.”

The following silence was uncomfortable, leaving you shifting against the leather seats. You knew Genya was probably fighting the urge to ask you if you wanted him to kick someone’s ass, and Sanemi… well, you didn’t know what he thought but you sure could guess what someone might think when they saw what you looked like after exiting a man’s house.

“Hungry?”

The question broke you out of your thoughts, and you caught Sanemi’s gaze in the rearview mirror. You’d eaten a couple hours ago, but after the day you’d had, you were starving. You didn’t realize how tense you were until just now, melting into the seat.

“Yeah, food sounds great.”

“Nemi and I were gonna grab something and then marathon Star Wars,” Genya told you. “You down?”

Your eyes flickered between the two brothers.

“Is that okay?”

“You’re over all the time already,” Sanemi replied nonchalantly.

It was true: you often dropped in or crashed at their place after work or on your days off to hang out with Genya. The two of you had been fast friends since you both worked the same shifts at work during high school. You’d moved on to other things, as had Genya, but your friendship had remained and grown as you did.

Sanemi worked quite a bit to provide for his younger brother and himself after an accident that left both of them orphans, and he was often gone when you and Genya hung at his place, but he’d found a better job recently that left him with more days off. With his schedule freed up a bit, he’d been around more while you crushed Genya at Mario Kart and experimented with new recipes in their spacious kitchen.

Sanemi had been little more than a passing thought before, but since seeing him more frequently, you’d developed a fascination with the scarred man with the shock of white hair. It wasn���t like the crushes you’d had on other guys- giddy, giggling things- but instead a hot coal in your stomach that left you uncomfortable and squirming when he was nearby. Sanemi was short-tempered and gruff, and had a permanent scowl on his face, but something about him made butterflies sprout in your chest.

It made you feel foolish, and you knew you’d die if Sanemi ever found out. You’d gone to great lengths to put physical and emotional distance between the two of you, a practiced civility that bordered on cold. It was the only way you could manage to keep yourself in check around him.

With the food acquired (taco bell was Genya’s favorite, much to Sanemi’s disdain), the three of you were back at the Shinaguzawa household in record time. Genya plopped on the couch, patting the seat next to him. You hesitated, the stickiness under your clothes itching uncomfortably now.

“Here,” Sanemi appeared out of thin air, thrusting a towel into your hands. “You know where the shower is.”

Your face heated as you slunk away, disappearing into the tiled bathroom. You must have looked pretty rough if Sanemi was telling you to shower.

Genya furrowed his brows disapprovingly at his brother as you vanished.

“I know you’re trying to help, but you should really work on how you talk to people.”

“Why?” Sanemi settled on the far end of the sofa.

Genya pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Because,” he groaned. “You don’t have tact.”

“I was giving her a towel; why does that need tact?” Sanemi turned the television on. “She obviously wanted a shower.”

“You’re useless,” Genya dug out his burrito. “It’s no wonder nobody will date you.”

Sanemi snatched the food from Genya with a glare, pushing him away with a socked foot when Genya complained and reached for the stolen bag.

“Biting the hand that feeds you means you’re gonna lose the food,” Sanemi told him.

“Genya!”

Your voice from down the hall had the younger brother craning his neck, Sanemi leaning back to peer down the dim hall curiously.

“I’m stealing some of your clothes,” you exited Genya’s room, holding up a handful of cloth. “And I’m borrowing your washer.”

“Sure, go ahead,” Genya nodded, watching you disappear into the bathroom.

The silence as Sanemi set up the movie was relaxed. Genya fished his food from the bag and set it far away from his brother, disposing of the trash as the sound of water reached their ears.

“So I guess you two aren’t fucking then?”

Genya choked on his burrito, slamming his fist into his chest. When he finally could breathe again, he turned his red face towards Sanemi with a glare.

“What the hell would give you that impression?”

“Look,” Sanemi plucked a cinnamon twist from its spot nestled in fast food paper. “I see you guys hanging out all the time. You’re close. I just figured-”

“We’re friends,” Genya cut him off. “She literally was on a date with someone today.”

“A shitty one,” Sanemi interjected.

Genya rubbed his eyes.

“Yeah, a shitty one. I swear she’s got the worst luck when it comes to dating. It’s like she’s an asshole magnet.”

“This happened before?”

Sanemi’s interest was piqued. He’d grown curious about the girl who showed up at the house to keep Genya company and use the kitchen at odd hours. You were incredibly sweet but had a sassy streak around people you were comfortable with. He’d heard you swear like a sailor over losing a game, but even from the next room over he could hear the grin in your tone. It did confuse him how you’d go from acting like you were in your own house while Genya was there, to suddenly stiffening and growing formally polite around him.

“Yeah, like four or five times. Usually, I’ll hear about it the next day, but she’s never called for a ride before.”

“She should’ve just told the guy no date until her car is fixed,” Sanemi took a swig of his drink. “That’d fix that problem. Can’t help with the bad taste in men, though.”

“I don’t have bad taste.”

Your voice cut the air sharply, and the brothers twisted around to see you standing behind the couch, hair damp and body swallowed by Genya’s clothes. Your embarrassed face was juxtaposed by the glare plastered across it. A few pale bruises peeked above the loose collar of the borrowed shirt.

“Then how do you explain consistently shit dates?” Sanemi countered, raising a brow.

Your face burned and you ducked your head between your shoulders.

“…bad luck?”

The white-haired man snorted into his cup. You scowled, plopping down on the couch next to Genya.

“I can’t help it men are pigs who don’t know what the word ‘no’ means,” you bit back, hackles raised at Sanemi’s reaction.

You didn’t think the air could get more uncomfortable, but here you were, starting to squirm as you did your best to avoid the piercing gazes of the Shinazugawa brothers. Genya’s whole body had leaned forward as his hands dug into the couch. Sanemi’s normal resting bitch face hardened farther and his eyes narrowed to pinpricks.

“I’ve got a crowbar in the garage-”

“Nemi!” Genya elbowed him before quickly turning back to you. “Unless… I mean unless you wanted-”

“No!” you shook your head, covering your face. This night was just getting worse the more you had to talk about everything. “I just want to forget about it. Can we watch the movie please?”

Familiar music filled the air as Star Wars began to play. You honestly didn’t care for the franchise all that much but it was a welcome distraction from your morning. You inhaled your food before snuggling down into the couch your lids grew heavy. You finally let them shut, unable to stay awake any longer as the hum of conversation and sound effects melted into the background.

Your dreams were staticky and punctuated by odd dialogue filtering in through your ears from the movies playing, but eventually you fell into a dead sleep, mind dark and empty as the exhaustion caught up to you.

When you jolted awake, the sun had gone down and the curtains were drawn, leaving the living room dark. The couch’s raised fabric pattern was imprinted on your cheek, accompanied by drool trickling from your open mouth.

Gross.

You wiped it away with the back of your hand, sitting upright. The living room was empty, food wrappers cleaned up and a fuzzy blanket laid over your body. Sanemi and Genya were nowhere to be seen. You pushed yourself up, reaching for your phone.

10:18PM.

Genya would normally still be up at this time. You picked yourself up off the couch and padded down the hall, knocking on his door.

No answer.

You opened it slowly, not wanting to get an eyeful if he was in the middle of choking his chicken or something else that would scar you for life. His room was entirely empty, bed uncharacteristically neat. Eyebrows knit together to create a crease.

“Do you always creep around like an intruder?”

Sanemi’s voice made you jump, spinning around to face him. You clutched your chest where your heart beat erratically from the scare, trying to hold back a scowl.

“Jesus Christ dude,” you spit out when you finally caught your breath. “Don’t do that.”

“What?” Sanemi crossed his arms. “Walk through my own house?”

“Surprise me,” you took a step back, gathering your wits. “In the dark.”

Sanemi reached over with one hand, flipping the light switch. The sudden harsh illumination made you squint, which did nothing to make your face look less irritable.

“Genya got called into work about two hours ago,” Sanemi answered your unspoken question. “He said you could use his bed if you wanted to.”

You peered back into the room behind you. Sanemi probably wouldn’t want to drive you home, so you supposed you could crash in Genya’s bed for the night. Wouldn’t have been the first time, and probably not the last. Genya always insisted you take his bed if you stayed the night anyway. He claimed the couch was more comfortable (a lie if you’d ever heard one).

“If it’s no trouble,” you pulled the blanket tighter. “I’ll be out of your hair in the morning.”

Sanemi let out a long sigh, leaving you to side-eye him as he rolled his shoulders. When he finally quieted and brought his attention back to you, he looked both pissed and concerned.

“Is it something I did?”

You blinked owlishly, cocking your head.

“What?”

“You always do this,” he gestured to you. “You’re relaxed and chill when Genya’s here, but the moment I show up you get all… frosty. Did I say something to offend you?”

You shifted from one foot to the other, opening your mouth briefly before snapping it shut, trying to think before you said anything stupid. It didn’t work, as per usual.

“N-no, you just make me nervous-”

Sanemi’s face briefly reminded you of a kicked puppy, and you felt horrible. Of course he’d assume you were frightened of him because of his scars. You chided yourself mentally, attempting to fix your mistake.

“N-not like that!” you lifted your hands to wave them wildly, and the blanket slipped to the floor and puddled around your feet. “I just-you make me nervous because you’re hot!”

Both of you froze this time, and your face lit up bright red, ears burning as your mouth fell open and eyes bugged out at your slip of the tongue. You wished you could melt into the wooden floorboards of the hall.

Sanemi broke out of his stupor first, a slow grin spreading across his face. You would’ve run if you hadn’t been rooted to the floor in humiliation.

“Oh, is that it?” he leaned down, resting one palm flat against the doorframe near your head.

His face was close-too close to yours to be completely comfortable. You turned your head away, trying to calm your racing heart. There’s no way Sanemi was flirting with you. He was probably just being an asshole, right?

Right?

“Genya isn’t the only one who has a bed,” Sanemi’s smirk was crooked, eyes half lidded. His face swiftly softened when he noted your eyes flickering to your left and right like a frightened rabbit. He took a step back, allowing you your personal space again.

“Sorry,” he apologized, eyes gentle amidst the sharp planes of his face. “You just had a shitty date and here I am being a bad host. You’re probably tired.”

You hadn’t seen this side of Sanemi before much. You were used to his cocky glares and barking laughter. Not this gentle tone like someone coaxing a horse.

“You’re not bad,” you burst out, wanting to ease the tense atmosphere. “I just- I don’t… know how to act around you.”

Your face burned. How many embarrassing confessions would you make tonight? You were already at two and counting.

“I’m not a pig,” Sanemi echoed your words from earlier. “I know how to take a ‘no’.”

“I-it’s not a no!”

Sanemi’s gaze snapped back to you, shocked but curious. You bit your lip, clenching your fists.

“It’s… not a no. I’m just not sure-”

“If you’re not sure, then it’s the same thing,” Sanemi picked the blanket up from off the floor and looping it around your shoulders like a cape.

Your fingers snagged it without a second thought, anchoring it in place where he’d laid it. You weren’t sure where your eyes should settle, but risked peeking up at him. His eyes rested on your visage with a gentleness that rivaled the brush of his fingers as they withdrew from fabric around your body. Those lilac eyes were a little curious, a little resigned, and a little hungry.

You reached out with one hand, hooking your fingers in the hem of his shirt. He paused. You took a deep breath and stepped forward.

“I want you,” you maintained eye contact as you spoke- quite the feat when your heart was trying to escape through your throat.

Sanemi stared at you as if trying to gauge your sincerity.

“Please?” you tacked on as an afterthought, suddenly afraid that he’d laugh in your face or- worse- reject you outright for some other reason. You could thin of a million, but the one you worried most about was him thinking you were some kind of loose woman who slept around-

Hands threaded through your hair, and you felt lips on your own. You melted into the unexpected touch, anxiously moving closer until you were fully pressed against Sanemi’s body. Heat rolled off him comfortingly, and your hands twisted in his white tank top. His teeth nipped against your lower lip, forcefully requesting entrance. You granted it, running your tongue along his teeth, tasting mint and the faintest lingering bitterness of tobacco.

Cigarettes.

“I didn’t know you smoked,” you whispered as he broke away for a breath.

A brief embarrassed guilt flashed across his features before he shrugged.

“I’m working on quitting. Don’t want Genya to think it’s okay but… we all have our vices.”

You laughed, reaching up to touch his hair.

“Genya tried cigs and isn’t a fan, so you don’t have to worry about that.”

The look on Sanemi’s face was comical, and you held in a giggle. He glared behind you in the direction of Genya’s bed.

“The little fucker-”

“Hey, he’s a good kid,” you insisted, feeling more at ease speaking with Sanemi now that his hands were around your waist. It was both soothing and thrilling.

Sanemi crowded you against the wall, dropping his head until your gazes were level. His eyes bored into yours and it felt as if you were suddenly being interrogated.

“You two really aren’t fucking?”

The question took you aback a little bit, but you shook your head.

“He’s like my little brother.”

Sanemi’s grin split across his face, crooked and sharp. Your stomach fluttered as the tip of his nose brushed against yours, fanning his breath across your lips.

“Good. Because I’m taking you.”

Before you had a chance to ask what he meant, you were lifted off your feet and carried- with an undignified squeal- through the hall and into Sanemi’s room. When he dropped you on the bed, the air left your lungs in a gasp, and it took a second to get your bearings.

“If you say stop, or no, at any point,” Sanemi’s shirt was whipped off over his head as he approached the bed, “I’ll back off. If you can’t speak, tap me three times.”

Your eyes locked on his torso as you nodded dumbly, taking in the muscles and scars across his ribs and pecs, down his sides and crowning his hips. It took everything in you to tear your vision away to meet his face as he crawled over you, running his hand up your neck until he cradled your jaw.

“Now… how about I make you forget all about that shitty fucking guy from earlier?”

The kiss was soft and chaste, not what you expected after how heated things had gotten in the hallway. Sanemi’s hands reached for the edge of the t-shirt you wore- Genya’s t-shirt- and lifted it until it caught on your face, tugging a bit when your head was stuck until it popped off, leaving your hair mussed. He brushed the stray strands from your face, eyes dropping to your bare breasts.

Shit.

In the chaos of excitement, you’d forgotten about the marks left from your earlier date. Your hands immediately went to cover them in horror. Sanemi stopped you, grabbing your wrists and holding them from blocking his view. His lips pressed to each mark, scraping his teeth and sucking them until they grew darker. Each bruise was remarked afresh by his mouth until not one was left untouched.

Your head had fallen back, a trembling hum dragged from your lips at the feeling of Sanemi’s touch. He sucked a few new marks as well, higher up on your neck, making sure to lavish the juncture of your shoulder and throat with attention. Your hands dug into his hair, tugging and holding back a keen of pleasure.

“There,” he pulled back, satisfied with his work.

Your breath hitched, watching him slide his fingers under the satin basketball shorts clinging to your hips. Being fully exposed to Sanemi was frightening, your entire body going rigid, remembering the offhand snide comments you’d endured only hours ago in the same situation. Sanemi noted the way you wouldn’t meet his eye, ducking your head and pulling your legs towards yourself as if you were going to curl in on yourself.

“I can’t see your pretty face,” he lifted your chin with a finger, thumbing your lip. “I want you to look at me while I go down on you.”

Your face blazed red, and it crept down your neck until your chest flushed as well, watching Sanemi drop his face between your legs, forcing them apart while maintaining eye contact. You slowly eased yourself down until you were only propped up on your elbows.

“Ready, pretty girl?”

It was humiliating how your cunt fluttered at the words, and you nodded, transfixed by his cocky smile as he stuck his tongue out, just barely flicking the little nub that hid under its fleshy hood. The anticipation made you squirm a bit, even though the touch wasn’t enough to affect you. Sanemi hooked his arms around your thighs, anchoring you in place before burying his face against your hot core. Your back arched, a muffled moan fluttering past your lips as your nails scratched his scalp.

You could feel him grin against your cunt as his tongue dipped in and out, tracing the sides and up towards your clit. He avoided directly touching it until you were practically grinding against his face in desperation, desperate short whimpers huffed through your nose. Your lower lip was tucked under your top teeth, bitten and swollen due to your barely restrained desire.

“Please, Sanemi,” you finally gasped.

He pulled back, chin slicked with your juices.

“Please what?”

“You know what!” you whined.

Leave it to Sanemi to be an asshole while eating you out. You couldn’t really complain though- he was impressively good.

“Use your words, sweetheart.”

“Please,” you dropped your head to the sheets so you wouldn’t have to look at him as you spoke. “Let me cum.”

“I’m not stopping you.”

You shot up, glaring at Sanemi with a fury you didn’t know was in you. That pleased smirk was plastered on his gorgeously annoying face. You moved your legs so they locked behind his head, holding him in place.

“Don’t be a fucking tease!” you shook him a little by his cornsilk hair, just firm enough to show you weren’t a fan of his antics.  

Sanemi huffed a laugh against your inner thigh. His mouth was already back on you, finally going high enough to reach that sensitive button that he’d been neglecting. You sighed in relief, thighs clenching around his face. It didn’t take long after that for that coil in your stomach to build, snapping and throwing you over the edge when Sanemi’s flat tongue caressed your clit.

He kept going despite your choked cry and the way you arched up off the bed, limbs shaking and legs shaking. When you finally couldn’t take it anymore your hands pushed against his head, forcing him away. He sat up, looking over your trembling body and heaving chest. Your eyes were closed, a ringing sound in your ears from the intensity of the orgasm that was currently acting like a muscle relaxer.

A muffled groan pulled you from your pleasure-induced haze, and your eyes slit open. Sanemi’s pants were gone, pupils blown out. You didn’t realize how hard he was already, the outline of his dick inside the confines of his gray boxers surprising you as he palmed himself through the fabric. His own breathing was labored, and he swallowed, noticing your eyes opening.

“You good, princess?”

You nodded, feeling a bit sleepy, but pushed yourself up until you were sitting.

“Up for another round?”

You reached out, a bit hesitant, but tugged on the waistband of his underwear. That was all the answer he needed, and Sanemi stripped out of them, fishing around in the drawer of his nearby nightstand until he was able to produce a condom. It was opened and rolled on in a flash. He nudged your legs apart, settling between them and lining himself up at your entrance. You were incredibly slick from your earlier orgasm, and he pushed in with little resistance. The intrusion was still unexpected, and your fingernails bit into his forearm. Sanemi let out a shaky breath as he bottomed out, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“Good job, sweetheart,” he whispered through gritted teeth. “Let me know when you’re ready for me to move.”

Instead of answering him verbally, you pushed up against him, grinding your cunt down onto his dick. The choked cry from his lips was like honey to your ears, and you wrapped your arms around his neck.

“Fuck me, Sanemi,” you breathed into his ear.

You barely finished the sentence before his hips began pounding into you, a cacophony of grunts and groans escaping his throat. He grabbed your legs and folded them back, angling deeper into your sopping cunt and hitting something inside you that made your toes curl. Each thrust punched the air from your lungs, leaving you too breathless to even moan out your satisfaction. Sanemi’s grip on your legs was leaving bruises but you didn’t care. You were enveloped in the feeling of his cock drilling into you relentlessly, his eyes half closed as the veins in his neck and arms stood out from the force he applied with each movement.

“S-Sanemi!”

The strangled cry you managed to get out among the intense movement filled the hot air of the room. Sanemi’s grip tightened on your legs and his hips stuttered against yours. His mouth had fallen open, eyes lidded with pleasure. His groans rose in pitch until they were more whines than anything, and the staccato beat of skin on skin lost all rhythm.

Sanemi came with a long moan, his mouth dropping to your neck, suckling as he ground up against you, hands loosing their hold on your legs to scramble for your hips. The tension in your stomach snapped with the last few jerks of his hips, a pleasant buzz settling in your limbs and chest a second time as your walls fluttered around his pulsing member. Your arms draped across his shoulders in an embrace as he came down from his high.

It was too warm in the room, but neither of you made a move. You hummed into his soft hair in hazy satisfaction.

“That was nice,” your hoarse voice drew Sanemi’s eyes to your half-asleep face.

He chuckled.

“Just nice?”

You tousled his hair, feigning a pout.

“What, you need your ego stroked?”

Sanemi snaked his hand down your body, flicking your still-sensitive nub with a finger. Your body jerked involuntarily, a cry escaping from your lips. You whined at him, burying your face in your hands in embarrassment.

“I made you come twice,” Sanemi said. “How many times did that piece of shit you call a date make you come?”

You mumbled your answer, and Sanemi narrowed his eyes, gently abusing your clit again. You squirmed in an attempt to get away, but he was still buried to the hilt inside of you.

“He didn’t-” you said, fingers digging into the sheets on either side of you.

“That’s what I thought,” Sanemi ground against you, and you wriggled against the intense feeling of overstimulation. “Pretty girls like you deserve to be treated well, don’t you think?”

If you hadn’t been blushing before, you definitely were now. All you could manage was a nod as Sanemi slowly pulled out of you. You whimpered at the loss, feeling empty and cold as he tied off the condom and tossed it in the trash.

“What do pretty girls like you deserve?” Sanemi lifted your chin with his fingers.

“To be… treated well?”

Sanemi had a satisfied grin plastered on his face, and he kissed you deeply before pulling back and nodding.

“So how about you find yourself someone who’ll treat you like a princess?”

His words set your heart fluttering again, and you wet your lips, staring at him expectantly.

“Okay. Have any suggestions?”

His laughter huffed through his nose at your innocent and eager expression. Sanemi kissed the tip of your nose, cradling your jaw in his hand.

“You’re looking at him.”

[thoughts-of-bear]

The birthday gift

A Halsin x reader fanfiction | Explicit, 18+ | 7k words A/N: Okay since the Halsin brainrot has had its hold on me for ages, I started this fic on my birthday in december, not expecting to ever finish it because I have literally never finished anything I've started writing before- until now. I got inspired to write this by this post (for the birthday part, the smut part is my own horny imagination) and well, this is the final product. Since it's my first time publishing any of my writing and writing smut at all, please be kind with me XD Summary: Your companions prepare a surprise birthday party for you, Halsin sees you in your new dress, you two dancing leads to him confessing his feelings for you and a very happy ending... CW: halsin x f!reader, virgin reader, halsin eating pussy, fingering, p in v sex, breeding, rough sex i guess, halsin being the man he is, all that stuff idk what to write here really

I hope you enjoy it, comments and reblogs are very much appreciated <3

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You and your companions had finally reached Baldur’s Gate. It’s still morning when you enter Rivington that day and the streets are busy with all kinds of people, many seemingly refugees from Elturel and farther away, here to find shelter in the city. As you continue down the road to the village in front of the city gates, you are stopped by a little red-headed girl.

“Erm. ‘Scuse me, I can’t find my mum.” She looks worn out and as if she has recently been crying.

“Where did you last see her?” you ask as you bend down to her, smiling to show you want to help.

“She went to go get some herbs - for her spots” she gestures towards her face. “She was sick. And she was supposed to come back the same day.” She pauses before adding, “That was last tenday though.”

“Let’s go find a guard. They’ll be able to help you”, you propose.

The girl shakes her head. “Guards blow like petards. They don’t help us.”

Your heart sinks at these words. It seems all these people were here because the city wouldn’t take them in. And the guards are no help either, apparently. You wonder what happened to your city, where once everyone was welcome.

Halsin sighs and shakes his head in disapproval. “This city is a poor place to be in need of help. Even the guards can’t be trusted to protect the most vulnerable.”

You silently agree and think of how you could help that girl. You decide to spare a few coins, so she can buy herself some food.

“I don’t know where your mum is, but here - take a few coins”, you offer her, not able to tell her that her mother is most likely dead. Halsin smiles at you warmly as you shoot him a quick glance, the sight making your heart skip a beat.

“Oh - erm. Thank you so much! I don’t have anything and you can’t do anything without any coin”, the little girl exclaims, bobbing on her toes and suddenly looking a little less tired. “I’ll pay you back. When I find my mum.” She turns around and bolts. “No need, it’s a gift!” you call after her but she has already vanished in the crowd.

You finally arrive at Wyrm’s Rock Crossing in the evening, after you had snuck past one of the new city guards - the so-called Steel Watch - and promised to investigate the murder of the local Ilmater priest. Another incident that seems to fuel the hate towards the refugees.

And that isn’t even all. The city is closed, even for you as a Baldurian, and to get in you’d need an Admission Pass - or wings. You sigh. You just want to get into the city, rent a room in the Elfsong and think about what to do next, now that the Absolute’s army must soon be upon the city.

It’s all too much and too little time. And you can’t just turn away from the people you met in Rivington either, they need help just as much as you need to find out how to beat the Absolute’s Chosen and get rid of the tadpoles.

When you make your way around camp that evening, checking up on your companions, Halsin notices your exhaustion, the way you slump your shoulders and how your usually impeccable stance falters. He wants to relieve you of at least a bit of the tension, so when you walk over to him, he offers you a massage. The things he wants to say to you can wait until tomorrow.

“Thank you, Halsin”, you accept, his hands turning you around and gently pushing you down to sit on your knees before him. You sigh as his broad hands knead the tension from your back and by the time he is finished, you feel like a sleepy, boneless lump of flesh, muscles completely relaxed. You thank Halsin again before you retire to your bedroll, the hopeful thought that the offer might’ve been more than Halsin’s usual kindness crossing your mind before you drift off to sleep.

The next evening, you were finally inside the city walls. You consider the new information of the day. How you got your hands on an invitation to the celebration at Wyrm’s rock fortress, your disbelief to see that it was Lord Gortash’s coronation as Arch Duke, how he made the tadpoled Duke Ravengard give up his power and how Bane’s Chosen then proposed an alliance against Orin, the shapeshifter that had already approached you in Rivington. You had agreed to kill her, but you definitely wouldn’t leave Gortash his Netherstone. But that is a problem for another day. You had managed to get a room in the Elfsong Tavern and as usual you make your way through it to hear what your companions think of all that had happened today. Most approve of your decision. Halsin is the last person you speak to and as always, he has just the right words to ease your worries. For now, at least.

“Wait-”, he grabs your arm before you can leave. “I didn’t thank you yet.” His large hand is warm and makes your skin tingle where it touches you.

“Thank me? For what?” He chuckles at your puzzled look. “For all that you did in Rivington yesterday. You have so many worries and yet you still go out of your way to help those in need. The way you made that little girl smile, or how you didn’t hesitate to investigate what happened to that Ilmater priest.” A blush creeps up your cheeks as he continues. “I’m afraid Nature’s balance can never be restored in a city like this, but seeing what you do every day without expecting anything in return gives me hope. And for that I thank you.” You smile up at him, lost for words with your heart beating fast.

“I appreciate you saying this. I wish I could to more, to help everyone, but if I can at least do a little good, it’s worth the exhaustion at the end of the day”, you eventually admit with a smile. Halsin grins. “You’re too modest. I wager you don’t even know how extraordinary you truly are.” Your cheeks blush an even deeper red at those words and only when you retire to bed for the evening does your heart resume its normal pace again. But the warm feeling Halsin’s presence gave you remained for the night.

After you had the first proper breakfast since your crash with the Nautiloid, you feel ready to explore the city and find out how to best deal with all your problems. You hadn’t particularly missed the bustle and noise of your old home, but you can’t help feeling safer now that you were in familiar surroundings again.

Gale proposed to go to Sorcerous Sundries, both to find out more about the Elderbrain’s crown and to see what the wizard there wants with your companion Nightsong. Since you don’t have an idea where to find Orin yet, you figure that this is as good as any other thing you could be doing. 

The way from Elfsong to the magic shop isn’t far and you still have some time before it opens, so you decide to stop by the Baldur’s Mouth Gazette to update yourself on any news you had missed in your absence and struggle with the Absolute.

Scanning the title page, you notice the date in the corner and your brows shoot up in surprise. Noticing this, Gale asks if you found anything important in the newspaper.

“No, it’s just that I realised today is my birthday and I've completely forgotten about it. That means we have been on the road for more than two months already”, you wonder aloud before you add, “It doesn’t feel that long.”

“Well, then we have to celebrate of course!” Gale exclaims happily. You smile at his enthusiasm but shake your head. “We have bigger problems for now. Let’s see what this Lorroakan wants with Dame Aylin and then get on with our business. Besides,” you shrug, “we didn’t celebrate birthdays in my monastery anyways so I won’t miss anything.”

“If you say so,” Gale replies and you turn your attention back towards the page you were studying before.

You had already forgotten about the conversation as you come into your chamber in the Elfsong, grateful for the few minutes alone during the bath you had taken and the respite for your tired body.

But the moment you enter the room, Karlach and Shadowheart drag you to a set dinner table, laden with the most delicious food you could imagine. There aren’t your ordinary fish heads and the mouldy bread you usually have to call supper, instead delicious smelling pork roasts, pies, glazed carrots and potatoes, deep red apples and more pile atop the table, all lovingly placed around a huge flower bouquet in the middle of it.

You are so overwhelmed by the amount of work your friends must’ve put into this, that you can only stutter a ‘thank you’ before Karlach announces, “Happy birthday soldier! Halsin, Gale and Shadowheart here told us that today is your birthday and you never had a proper party before, so we decided to prepare you a little something!” With a grin she gestures from the table to one of the unoccupied beds, where a few packages are placed.

“You brought me presents too? You really didn’t have to!” you exclaim in surprise. You are so touched that your friends -among all the trouble- still found time to prepare the presents and this party for you that you feel tears well up in your eyes.

“Darling, no need to cry,” Astarion laughs as he pushes you onto your designated chair. “This is a party and not a funeral! Go ahead and enjoy yourself, it’s your special day after all!”

With a sniff and a small chuckle at Astarion’s words you sit down properly. He is right, of course, and you all clearly enjoy having a small break from the worries you faced at the moment.

Smiling hesitantly, you grab some meat and vegetables and start to eat - it really is delicious. You revel in the laughter and conversations with your friends, your weariness from todays fight forgotten for the moment.

When all of you can’t possibly eat any more, Karlach drags you over to the bed with the presents. You can tell she is excited to see if you like the few things your companions managed to get you in the time they had for preparing, so you start unpacking.

The first present contains a book on the monastery you were raised in, with a handwritten note from Gale:

“I’m sure you already know most information this book has to offer, but I thought it might still bring you comfort and remind you of home.” You thank him with a tight hug and carefully place the book into your bag.

The next package is a bottle of the finest liquor of the Elfsong Tavern, plus a sparkler for every one of your companions which Karlach sets of immediately.

Laughing at her shenanigans, you reach for the last and biggest present. It is wrapped in red paper and decorated with a little white bow. You wonder where your companions had managed to find all those things while you carefully pull the paper open. Soon a dress falls out of the packaging and you gaze at it in awe. Your fingers trace the deep forest green fabric, intricate silver and gold patterns weaved into it.

“This is beautiful, thank you, truly!” you say earnestly. You still can’t quite believe that all this should be for you. “I thought you would like it”, smiles Shadowheart. “And I’m certain it will suit you beautifully. Go now - try it on!” she urges you.

You walk to the bathroom which still smells of the quince-scented soap you had used for your bath a few hours before. While changing, you bask in that warm feeling in your chest these moments among your friends always grant you. Whatever problems you had encountered, in your opinion they have all been worth it just for the people you found and let into your heart along the way. As cheesy as that sounds.

You regard yourself in the mirror. The dress is cut low and close-fitting, capturing your cleavage in a very flattering way. Maybe too flattering, if you think about it too much. This isn’t something you’d usually wear, but you have to admit that you like the way the dress looks on you. A bit insecure you go back into your room, where you are greeted with approving cheers and whistles from your friends.

“You look absolutely stunning”, Shadowheart admires. “I knew it would look good on you! Turn around please”, she commands. You do what you are told, with red cheeks at the compliment.

When you face Shadowheart again, you notice Halsin gazing at you with pure admiration - and something else you can’t quite place. You think you notice a golden shimmer in his eyes, but that could be a trick of the light considering all the candles in the room.

“I must admit, your neck looks very tempting in that dress but I know someone who is a lot hungrier for you than me right now”, Astarion remarks with a wicked grin and a sideward glance. You frown at him, though you can’t help your heart skipping a beat at these words. Could he possibly mean Halsin?

“Now, what would a party be without some music and dance?” Wyll interrupts your thoughts and as if these words have summoned her, the bard the party had met in the druid grove appears in the doorway.

“Alfira!” you exclaim happily and immediately rush over to hug her. “I’m so glad you got to Baldur’s Gate alright!”

Alfira grins at you. “Yes, thanks to you and your friends here. When they reached out to me today and told me it was your birthday, I just had to come! Wyll organised everything.” You nod to him in thanks. “Now, I don’t have anything to give you but just tell me what you want to hear and I will play it for you!”

“Thanks, Alfira, that’s more than enough for me”, you beam and lead her into the room towards your group. “Wyll, now is your chance to show me your dancing!” You say as you take his hand and pull him into the middle of the room, then you grab Karlach and Gale and start to move to the tune Alfira started to play. Karlach swirls you around and Wyll shows you the dance moves from court, which -to be honest- remind you a bit of the mating dances you had seen with a few bird species.

Out of breath from all the dancing and laughing, you request a slower tune from the tiefling bard. You manage to persuade Shadowheart to put away her wine for a moment and start to waltz around the room with her. She is quite the good dancer and you wonder where she had learned it, with her being raised in a Sharran temple and everything.

At the next tune, you approach Halsin. With your head light from the wine, you have finally gathered the courage to ask him for what you have secretly thought about the whole time.

Still, you can feel your heart beating in your throat. “Erm…Halsin, w-would you honour me with a dance?” you eventually manage to mumble out shyly.

“Of course, little flower. Whatever your heart desires.” That particular heart skips a beat at his intimate tone. “Although you might wish you hadn’t asked me that once you’ve seen my dancing”, he adds with a chuckle as he takes your hand.

He leads you into the room and starts to swirl you around to the melody of Alfira’s lute. He definitely isn’t as graceful as Shadowheart but certainly not as bad as he has made it sound. But even if he’d had the dancing skills of a bugbear, you wouldn’t have noticed. His large and warm hand around your waist and the smile with which he regards you sends your pulse through the ceiling. His smell of pine and honey and fresh air intoxicates you and it is hard to keep your feet from getting tangled in your dress.

When he leans down to you, you have to remind yourself to keep breathing. “Before you go and mingle again, I still have a present for you. I wasn’t sure if you would even like it”, he admits, “but I have decided to give it to you anyways.” When the tune ends, he leads you to the space in your room where his bed stands and bends down to search his pack.

You think about how long it took you to realise how attracted you are to the druid as you admire his strong back before you. Of course, you have noticed his kindness and compassion and you have always marvelled at the way he drew strength from nature. But only since you had some kind of break these last days have you begun to understand the depth of your affection for the man before you. It runs deeper than mere friendship and the echo of his hands on your back have awoken a hunger inside you that only grows stronger the more you look at Halsin. How desperately you hope that he feels the same way about you…

When he stands up to turn around, you quickly brush away the thought that has sent the heat into your cheeks again.

“You’re the only one who knows of my secret passion”, he begins jokingly, “so I thought you might accept this as my present for your special day.” He hands you a small whittled duck he has apparently made in the hours you were away from camp. You can’t help but tear up at the thought of how much effort he has put into all the details he has carved. There are even small webbed feet on the underside of the little duck.

“Thank you Halsin, this is an amazing gift!” You smile down at the little duck. “You are amazing”, you add quietly.

“With all that you have done for me, I should be the one thanking you night and day.” As you look into his eyes again you see that his gaze is now very solemn. “There was another reason for wanting to speak to you privately. I have lived a very long time. I have taken many lovers. My heart does not stir lightly. But it does now.” Your heart flutters in recognition of his words, the confession sending sparks across your skin.

“I want more than to fight at your side, or to sit around the campfire with you. I want to lay with you under the stars and feel your skin against mine.” Halsin’s gaze on you is intense, filling your chest with a burning heat that slowly spreads lower into your belly, as if the wine you have been drinking suddenly caught on fire inside of you.

Halsin continues, “I think you feel the same way - but tell me I’m wrong and the matter can rest. I do not wish to sour our friendship, but I have to know if it can be something more.”

You stare at him for a moment before you realise that he waits for your answer.

“Y-you’re not wrong, far from it”, you whisper. “I would like that very much.” You smile up at him and he takes your hand in his.

“May I kiss you?” he breathes out, relieved. You nod and he bends down to gently press his lips on yours.

His hand slides up your arm and to your back while he places his other behind your head, gently pulling you closer and deepening the kiss.

You feel his tongue prodding at your lips, demanding entrance and you happily oblige. The feeling of his soft lips on yours sends you spiralling and you can’t stifle the small moan that escapes you. Halsin sends out a silent prayer to Silvanus - if that is all it takes to make you moan, what sounds do you make when he finally gets to taste you? Groaning, his hand on your back slowly wanders lower, a silent question of permission in his eyes. You press your body against his as an answer, feeling the heat radiating off his chest … and lower.

Halsins hand grips your ass firmly, making you gasp, the other joining in and hoisting you up on his hips, turning you both around and pressing your back to the wall. You cannot stop the surprised squeak that escapes your lips at the sudden movement and Halsin presses his mouth on yours to stifle it.

The feeling of the growing bulge in his pants between your legs and the low moan Halsin utters before kissing you even more vigorously sends a shiver down your spine, pressure starting to build between your thighs.

In a desperate attempt to pull him closer, your hands grip Halsin’s hair, arms, everything you can reach. But before you can lose yourself in him, Halsin releases your lips, panting, and rests his forehead against yours.

“I would very much like to continue”, he whispers, his breathing ragged and voice hoarse with desire, “but the others will expect us back and I think you would probably like a bit more privacy.” He sighs and softly kisses your hair. “I will come to your bed when the party has ended, little flower. But don’t expect much sleep”, he adds with a wicked grin. You can only nod as he gently props you back on your feet.

With your head spinning, you get back to the others, averting your eyes from the knowing smirks of Astarion and Shadowheart noticing your ruffled hair and flushed cheeks. You ignore them, trying to engage in some more conversation and one or two dances while the thought of what awaits you won’t leave your head.

When the last of the party finally bids you goodnight, you hurry to bed, awaiting Halsin. You can’t get away from the echoes of his hands on your body, heart already racing again and warmth blooming in your belly. Even if he hadn’t promised you he’d come tonight, you would’ve been unable to sleep.

A soft rustle next to your ear startles you from your thoughts and as you turn your head, you could make out Halsin’s large figure in the dark, crouching beside your bed.

He cuts you off from what you wanted to say by placing a finger on your mouth, his other hand sliding under your back and pulling you into an upright position. With your heart beating into your throat, you take the hand Halsin offers as he gently beckons you to follow him into the corridor outside of the room the party shares, then further into a small but cosy bedroom on the next floor.

The door closes with a click and before you can say anything, Halsin sweeps you up into his arms, pressing you flat against the door and capturing your lips in a kiss that feels like it burns you from the inside.

Halsin’s fresh, earthy scent floods your senses as your tongues intertwine and your hands find their way into his hair, tugging at his braids. You whine when Halsin lets go of your lips, only to gasp as he starts nibbling and placing searing kisses on your jaw while his hands squeeze your ass firmly, bringing your bodies as close together as possible.

You moan at the growing ache between your thighs but plant your small fists against his shoulders anyway, gently pushing him away a bit. Halsin’s eyes, pupils wide and dark with desire, find yours.

“What is it my heart?” he asks, voice hoarse. “Do you want me to stop?” You see no disappointment in his gaze, only worry and your heart swells at how selfless your lover is. You avert your eyes, suddenly embarrassed to tell what troubles you.

“I- I j-just wanted t-to say that … um … well, I- I have never been with someone before”, you mumble eventually, averting your gaze as you blush furiously.

“Silvanus, preserve me”, Halsin groans out before almost dropping you and stumbling backwards, trying to steady himself on the small desk opposite the bed. With wide eyes you regard what is happening before you. Halsin drops to his knees, a deep animalistic growl coming from his lips as his eyes fill with golden light and he transforms into his huge bear form.

You gasp and nearly trip over your feet in an attempt to make room for the bear before you, but the animal fills almost the entire chamber. After finally regaining his composure, Halsin manages to change back into his elf form, with a snarl and a ragged breath coming from his lips.

“Forgive me. I- lost the run of myself.” He shakes his head in disgust at his outbreak, terrified that he has ruined this precious moment with you before it could properly begin, and slowly gets back to his feet. “Sometimes, when blood runs hot enough, it’s difficult to tame the beast. And the thought of you trusting me enough to share your first time with me … well, you saw what happened”, he smiles tentatively, slowly approaching you again with hesitation in his eyes.

“Don’t apologise”, you assure him with a shy smile. “I like it.” If possible, you blush even harder now. “Maybe for another time…?” you add, fidgeting nervously with the front of your dress.

A relieved grin spreads over Halsin’s face. “You like it..?”, he chuckles. “You are full of surprises, little flower.” As he steps forward, he bends down to gently plant a kiss on your cheek, only to proceed to bite at your earlobe which elicits a delicious moan from you.

“I’m glad you think so, but now you’ve made it even harder for me not to outright devour you”, his low voice whispers in your ear. “Nevertheless, I will be gentle. Or at least I’ll try to be.” You swallow hard, arousal sending shivers down your spine.

Halsin’s arms wrap around your waist again as he kisses your jaw, your forehead and nose, until eventually his lips find yours again, his tongue ravaging you like a man starving. His hands, this time directly shoving under your dress, firmly grip your thighs. He ruts against you, growling, his now rock-hard cock pressing against the confinements of his clothing.

His fingers trail higher up, kneading your ass, then stroking the soft skin of your back before slowly wandering even higher. His touch sends jolts through your body and you can feel the heat between your legs, already nearly too much to bear.

His eyes hold an unspoken question and when you nod, Halsin lifts your dress off and brings his mouth down on one of your breasts, the hand that’s not on your back now gently kneading the other, massaging the hardened nipple between his fingers. You mewl at the sensation, impossibly more pressure building between your thighs. Halsin gently bites down at your breast, only to run his tongue over it afterwards to soothe the mark he made. You moan and arch your back, desperately trying to press closer against Halsin’s still overly clothed erection, wanting to feel everything of him.

He growls and his mouth begins to place kisses down your front, between your breasts, on the soft flesh of your belly until he is on his knees before you, his warm breath fanning over you and flooding you with heat.

“More?” he asks, his pupils blown wide with lust, as his thumbs brush the soft skin between your legs. “Please”, you whine, knees almost too weak to stand and your underwear already embarrassingly soaked.

Halsin wastes no time, pressing kisses on the insides of your thighs, his one hand holding you in place and his other slowly -too slowly- sliding your panties down your legs. The sight of you bare and dripping with need before him almost makes him lose control again, makes him want to take you, devour you, fuck you, mark you and then fill you to the brim with his cum but with a groan he wills himself to calm down and be gentle with you. He won’t hurt you. He won’t.

He exhales deeply, lifting one of your legs up and slowly swiping his tongue through your wet folds, which earns him a choked gasp. His nose nudges your clit as his tongue starts stroking, slowly at first, then faster and with more pressure. You can’t help the way each expert swipe of his tongue makes your hips buck into his mouth as countless moans and sighs fall out of your mouth. Halsin growls in response, the vibrations around your sensitive bud making your legs shake. You can barely keep up and the coil in your belly is tightening ever faster with Halsin’s mouth sucking your clit and his tongue inside you.

“You are sweeter than honey, my heart”, he groans as his tongue presses flat against you. “Let me taste you as you come undone on my tongue.” With your mind clouded with lust, all you can do is moan out Halsin’s name and press yourself further against your lover’s mouth.

He understands anyway, now slowly dragging a thick finger through your dripping folds until he stops, teasingly pressing against your entrance. You whine, begging him to fill you, to do anything to release the overwhelming pressure between your thighs. When he finally thrusts into you, you can’t stifle the cry of pleasure that escapes your mouth. With Halsin’s finger now working your cunt open, his mouth continues its ministrations, licking and sucking your clit, soaking your legs with your slick.

With a wicked grin, Halsin inserts a second finger into your quivering hole, pushing inside over and over again, holding you firmly in place as you try to writhe away from the intense pleasure. His fingers coil upwards in response, hitting a spot inside you that makes you see stars.

“Please Halsin…”, you beg, toes curling and legs shaking, “I’m close- I- Oh!“

Moaning into your cunt, Halsin picks up his pace, his fingers pumping in and out of you as his tongue swipes over your clit again and again, bringing you closer to your end.

One more thrust with his fingers and a soft nip of his teeth against the sensitive bud between your legs is all it needs to send you spiralling over the edge. “Ha- Halsin!” you cry out, hips jerking violently and fingers digging into his shoulders as your orgasm hits you with the force of a lightning bolt. He moans at the sensations of your walls contracting around his fingers, the urge to take you and feel you squeeze his cock with your needy cunt almost overwhelming him.

You whine when he pulls his fingers out and stands up, bringing you in for a passionate kiss as you still struggle to regain your breath. Tasting yourself on Halsin’s tongue pulls a small moan from you and an embarrassed heat creeps up your back at the thought of how aroused you already are again.

With a smile, Halsin pulls away. “You are amazing, little flower”, he whispers breathlessly as he picks you up and gently places you on the bed, admiring your flushed body.

If Halsin’s tongue hadn’t just turned your mind to goo, you might have been able to return that compliment, but alas-

“May I go further?” Halsin asks and when you nod he swiftly discards of his clothes, you licking your lips at the sight of the elf naked before you. Your eyes take in his form, from his muscled arms down to the soft curve of his belly and- oh gods. Your eyes widen. You didn’t think he would be that big and the thought of him filling you makes you gulp down a mixture of fear and arousal.

Attentive as always, Halsin notices your insecurity and bends down to press gentle kisses against your ear. “We don’t have to do this, my heart…”, he whispers while he rubs soothing circles into your hips. He looks at you, his expression earnest. You bite your lip, thinking for a moment before answering. “N-no, I want this”, you assure him, your voice still weak but pleading now. The way you look so sweet with your little fangs on your lips makes Halsin feral and he kisses you again, desperate and more passionate this time. He groans into the kiss as he gently spreads your legs for him, lining up his tip with your dripping slit and sliding through your soft folds before stopping just at your entrance. The sensation of his hard length so close to entering you is enough to make your head fall back, eyes squeezed shut. “If it’s getting too much, tell me and I will stop immediately”, he whispers soothingly. “Now relax for me, little flower.”

All thoughts leave your head as Halsin slides in, agonizingly slow. The stretch would be painful if your lover hadn’t prepared you so thoroughly beforehand, but now you only feel pure bliss. Raising your head, you can see that he isn’t even halfway in but gods, you feel so full already that you can’t stifle the choked gasp that escapes your throat.

“You’re doing so well, my heart. Just a little bit more- mngh-!“ Halsin’s growl sends jolts through your spine as he finally bottoms out. You can see just how much effort it takes him to hold back by the way his jaw tenses and his chest is heaving.

“By Silvanus, you’re so tight-!“ A shiver crawls down his back, carrying a wave of soft golden light with it, as Halsin’s eyes light up with his magic for a moment. The thought of how you are able to bring your lover to the precipice of losing control is extremely flattering and you feel yourself clenching around Halsin’s cock, making him grunt in response. Finally somewhat accustoming to his size, you arch your back into the mattress below you. The new angle makes you moan in pleasure as you grip the sheets for support.

“Are you still feeling good, little flower?”, Halsin asks as he slides a hand from your hip under your back to support you. You can only form one thought. “More- please Halsin!” you whine desperately. You don’t have to ask twice, with a low growl he slides out - just to knock the breath out of you with his first, hard thrust. He sets a steady pace, one that leaves you moaning and gasping out his name. Halsin takes your small hands into his, pressing them into the bed beside you to pin you down, pushing into you deep and slow while he places bites and kisses on your throat and chest that will surely leave marks come morning.

Gods, Halsin thought. The sight of your small body sprawled beneath him, split apart by his thick cock while he fucks into you relentlessly is driving him insane. He is growling with every thrust now and each one of them makes you cry out in pleasure. It doesn’t take long until he has you on the precipice of release again, your cunt fluttering around Halsin’s length.

“H- halsin- please! I’m so close!” you can only beg, not sure if you can take much more, your body feeling like it might explode. “Come for me, my heart”, Halsin demands in a gravelly voice before pressing a thumb to your clit, rubbing and massaging until his name leaves your lips in a hoarse cry as your orgasm hits you with full force. Your hips jerk upwards, walls clenching around Halsin as you notice the tears from the overwhelming pleasure streaming down your face. He continues to pound into you, prolonging your release and muttering praises for you under his breath.

Through the fog in your mind you wonder how Halsin still has the energy to keep going, his pace unwavering while you are completely spent, gladly accepting whatever your lover has to give you as long as you’re not required to move.

So, you do not see it coming when Halsin suddenly pulls out of you, the unexpected emptiness making you whine in displeasure, only for him to flip you over and press your chest into the soft bedding while he gently raises your hips.

“I know it’s a lot right now but I need you to cum for me one more time, my heart”, Halsin huffs with a strained voice, pushing inside you once more and grabbing a fistful of your hair to keep you in place. The new position lets him slide even deeper than before and you can’t help the strangled cry that leaves you when Halsin starts pounding into you again, hitting a spot that makes your eyes roll back with blinding pleasure.

“’s too much- please-!” you sob, your poor overstimulated clit still trying to recover from the last orgasm. But Halsin doesn’t relent and you can feel sharp pricks on your hips where his hand grips you, fingers partially wild-shaped into claws and his head thrown back in ecstasy. Seeing just how feral you drive him makes your hole clench around his shaft, the squeeze causing his hips to stutter as a grunt leaves his lips. “Silvanus preserve me”, Halsin pants as he fucks into you even faster, “if you keep squeezing me like that I will not be able to stop myself from claiming you completely, from making you mine and filling you up with my seed.”

You whimper at the image of Halsin pumping his cum into you, fucking it deep into your womb until he is sure that it has taken hold. You cannot pretend you haven’t thought about it before, the idea usually sending an embarrassed heat into your cheeks, but now - gods, now you needed it.

Completely breathless you moan, “Halsin I- ah-! please-! Fill me with your cubs!” These words were the last needed for Halsin to lose himself completely in you, driving himself into you with punishing strokes that cause you to arch yourself into him while moans and whispered curses fall from both your lips. The coil in your stomach is so tight again and when Halsin takes the hand from your hip to softly press on your lower belly you see stars. Your walls clench around Halsin’s cock and you feel him twitch inside you, a sign that he too is close to release. All it takes to send you over the edge is his finger pressed against your clit, your body shaking violently beneath him, toes curling, while waves of ecstasy course through you and you cry out his name.

With a last snap of his hips and a low moan, Halsin comes as well, twitching cock releasing hot spurts of cum inside your still fluttering walls. He continues to pump into you until the aftershocks of your shared orgasm have subsided, before he slowly pulls out. You collapse onto the mattress, exhaustion settling over your overstimulated body.

Halsin gets onto the bed with you, gently gathering you up in his arms and placing your head against his broad chest. “You’ve done so well for me, little flower”, he whispers into your ear, placing soft kisses on your face before he looks your body up and down. One of his hands comes up to stroke a strand of hair away from your damp forehead and to gently lift your chin in order to look you in the eyes. You note worry in his gaze, his brows furrowed in remorse when he plants a feather light kiss on your lips.

“I’ve hurt you”, he states. “I’m so sorry, my heart. I shouldn’t have lost control like that.”

You smile up at him and cuddle deeper into his arms before you shake your head. “Don’t apologise. I loved every second of it. There is no birthday present in this world that can ever match this”, you confess with a shy grin. “Although I have to admit I’m a little sore. You sure did your best to make sure I’m unable to walk tomorrow.”

Halsin chuckles. “I can help with that”, he answers with a sly smile, his free hand sliding down your body to stroke through your soft folds, muttering an incantation under his breath. As the familiar glow of the healing spell engulfs his fingers, you feel a rush of warmth where he touches you. A moan escapes your lips before you could stop it, eliciting a mischievous smirk from your lover as you hide your face against his chest in embarrassment.

“I’d be happy to go again, my love, but I think you need some rest first. Besides, we still have an Elderbrain to kill, so we’ll need our strength tomorrow.” You nod at that, the tiredness in your bones leaving you unable to object, even if you had wanted to. But you know he is right, so when Halsin wraps a blanket around you to carry you to the bathroom, you just relax into his chest, the sound of his steady breathing soothing you.

When the bathtub is filled with warm water, you are already half asleep, barely registering that Halsin is gently cleaning you up, rinsing the sweat from your hair and body and rubbing salve over the bite marks and the bruises on your hips once you are dry again.

You can hear the soft snores and deep breathing from your companions when Halsin brings you back into the room you share, all of them already fast asleep. Absentmindedly you wonder how long you and Halsin have been away, but the thought is gone as soon as Halsin places you on your bed.

“Goodnight, my little flower. Sleep well.” He gives you a kiss and turns to leave. You manage to grab his hand before he does, stopping him in his tracks.

“Stay with me tonight?” you mumble sleepily. Halsin smiles, warmth and adoration filling his chest as he carefully climbs next to you, the bedframe creaking slightly with his additional weight, and wraps his arms around your smaller figure. The thought of how your companions might react in the morning seeing you two in one bed briefly crosses your mind, but Halsin’s steady breathing and the soft pulse of his heart against your back soon drown out anything else as you drift to sleep in his warm embrace.

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

Part 2 is here now!

[mo0nfairy]

ᥫ᭡ . # ۫ , ⸺ UNCHAINED MELODY, PART FIVE !

summary :: surviving raccoon city together, you catch the affections of leon kennedy, ada wong, jill valentine, and carlos oliveira. six years later, you reunite with them and realize their obsession with you has increased tenfold.

chapters :: the masterlist.

word count :: 8.7k.

content warnings :: mdni! yandere!leon, yandere!ada, blood/gore, violence, death, weapons, drugging, kidnapping, stalking, noncon touching, invasion of privacy, mentions of sexual assault, parasites/infections, & needles.

ada wong's yandere traits are . . .

lucid, romantic, & confident

──── Ada Wong hates the sensation of grass on her skin. Yet still, the green matter stains all her clothes.

She'll spend her days laying in fields of grass. It tickles her skin and provokes her allergies, but she cannot fathom living without it. If she closes her eyes, she can almost stimulate the feeling of being with you once again. September 28th, 1998. On that road verge with dirt caked on her skin and a dandelion in her messy hair — Ada is convinced she is the only human who has ever been touched by such intense, perfidious happiness.

A beige trench coat littered with these same stains is preserved in her walk-in closet. It has not been worn in years, not since that night in Raccoon City. There are the occasional splatters of blood and gunpowder residue, but they are insignificant in comparison to the vivid green smudges. During rough patches, Ada will take the coat from its plastic covering and hold it close to her chest. If she closes her eyes again, she can almost convince herself it is you in her arms instead of this filthy, out-of-season garment.

As difficult as it is, however, she cannot let these feelings reach her heart. She cannot let herself feel for you.

She made this declaration long ago. Six years ago, to be exact.

Y/N L/N. The name she will never forget.

Ada remembers your evocative touch, your bunny-like shivering, your skin like flowers; she will never forget how you ended her life in Raccoon City.

The onslaught of inhuman, guttural growling had died down with the echo of gunshots. All flesh-eating creatures surrounding her now lay dead on the streets of Raccoon City. Now, a heavy silence sits. And the fear that follows slices into her flesh like a jagged knife. But, not for her life, no. For yours.

Ada briskly and anxiously scrutinizes her surroundings, searching for that jaw-dropping face she fell so hard and violently for. In the end, she finds nothing. All she is met with is the flickering lights of corner shops and the crackling of fire from car wrecks. When she looks down, however, Ada discovers the crumbled dandelion you gave her beneath the foot of her heel. Hastily, she grasps the precious weed and stuffs it into her coat pocket.

From here, attaining the G-Sample, selling it to the highest bidder, and earning more money than she could ever need was irrelevant. All that matters is finding you. Her darling petal, her bunny rabbit. Her salvation.

Ada's relentless efforts to find you result in Raccoon City being torn to shreds. Searching through Mizoil Gas Station to Umbrella's underground laboratory, all her attempts at bringing you back into her arms are brought to no avail. Ada is worn down and stained with grime, absolutely exhausted with dread.

It isn't until the golden sun rises does she learn of survivors being sent to a hospital outside of the city. She abandons everything in Raccoon City and high-tails it to Fox Park Hospital. Her feet ache from its uncomfortable stance in her stilettos and her lungs throb from the constant sprint. Still, nothing matters but you.

When she arrives at the hospital, she is overwhelmed with concerned families and tireless doctors. Several nurses inquire her about her physical state, but Ada disregards their concern entirely. She thought she could hide how perceptibly enamored she is with you through sly remarks and poised disposition. Maybe she'd conjure up some flattering remark to one of the doctors and bite her lip, all to gain access to your location. However, the only trait others can garner from her attitude is a desperate, downright feral act of despair.

Sharp nails digging into the shoulders of a poor nurse, she demands he inform her of your whereabouts. When the nurse squeaks out where you had been admitted to, Ada nearly punts him to the ground before breaking into a dash. She shoves past all other bystanders and bursts through the door to your room. And the way her heart surges in her chest upon entering could rival that of a genuine, torturous death.

There you lay, unconscious on the hospital bed. Bandages adorn the bruises and scars littered on your body. A white cast has been ensnared around your right arm.

The sight is nothing short of devastating. In a moment of weakness, she had so frivolously let you escape from her embrace. Now, you had to be the one who suffered the consequences.

Softly, Ada sits beside your sleeping form and restrains the urge to tackle you into a hug. It scares her, this sudden sense of warmth she possesses for you. She takes your weak hand into hers and shivers from the tender contact. I should not feel this way, she thinks to herself. Nothing about this is okay.

Despite the experience she has in the field of romance, Ada has never obtained genuine feelings for someone. All that lay beneath the surface of her seductive veneer was nothingness, sheer dust. She'll wear that coquettish nature like a crown and revel in the sense of power she feels of having someone beneath her. They care more about her than she does about them. And she loves it.

With you, though, things are different. Much different.

In all 24 years of her life, Ada never anticipated being slapped across the face with such raw emotion. The instance was ephemeral, but all-too devastating in the same breath. Dandelion between your fingers and the playful light in your eyes — the sight robbed her heart blind like candy from a baby. A lifetime spent in the depths of Winter, who knew a mere second of eye contact was all she needed to be lunged into the heavenly warmth of spring?

Ada is humiliated upon finding herself in the depths of such a ridiculous predicament. You have turned her into some lovesick monster, entirely incapable of maintaining stability. She thought she could control it; she thought she could shove you into a box with the rest of her past lovers. But, much like every other attempt she has made involving you, she failed miserably. No matter how hard she tries, she can't stop herself from being in love with you.

With this epiphany comes another. Every bruise, every scar, every wound on your body is living proof of what your life will become if she were to take you away. As badly as she wishes to take you and drown you in her adoration, she holds herself back. To live in complete bliss would mean robbing you of a good life; to ensure her happiness would mean robbing you of yours. By taking you away, her life would begin, yes, but yours would end. And if she were to take away the precious light you hold inside, she would never forgive herself.

The syringe she managed to snag from a passing doctor clatters to the floor. A physical manifestation of the realization seeping through her mind. For the very first time in her life, she cannot be selfish. For the first time, someone else's well-being is more important than hers.

She doesn't deserve you and you don't deserve her. You deserve happiness, you deserve normalcy, you deserve safety.

You deserve everything she cannot give you.

With a trembling breath, she affectionately drags the joint of her fingers down the side of your face. The mere thought of never being able to see this sight again shatters her. But for you, she would do absolutely anything, no matter how soul-crushing the pain is. Anything.

"Until next time, Y/N..."

The next six years were a tumultuous, frenzied blur. Ada Wong, notorious for her enticing personality, has crumbled.

Head-first, the agent had thrown herself into her work. Anything to keep her mind off of you. Or, at the very least, to look at the horrors she faces in her career to further remind herself you are better off without her. Every day, she oscillates with the idea of checking up on you, wherever you may be. It would be far too easy, as told by her skills. Though, if she were to do this, she knows she would not be able to leave you like she did six years ago. It had nearly killed Ada to leave you behind in that hospital. She isn't sure if she can survive that same pain all over again.

These gnawing desires keep her awake into the late hours of the night. Tossing and turning in bed, tossing and turning the idea of how good it would feel to have you in her arms. She wraps her arms around herself and caresses her own skin, pretending it is your hands on her body instead of her imagination. She feels weak, she feels deranged. But, she cannot help it. It kills her to not have you here with her.

She wonders how your life has changed since Raccoon City. What makes you smile, what makes you cry, if you're up at night thinking about her the way she does you. The misery nearly emulates the feeling of being butchered, as if you had personally cut open her flesh and sewed your name into her veins. But, Ada would do anything for you. Even if it means enduring the same torture every day, she is satisfied with life knowing she got to hold you. Even for just a second.

After a call with Albert Wesker, she is reminded yet again why you should not be a part of her life. To be exposed to this separate world would only be detrimental to you. She could never curse you with the burden that is her lifestyle. You deserve far more than that.

Ada teases the ring on her left hand. Mere hours after the crisis in Raccoon City, she preserved the dandelion you gave her and had it pressed into a ring. Six years later, this piece of jewelry has always ensnared her finger, as it remains her only source of security. The memory of you pulls at her heartstrings the way an angel plays a harp. In fact, it is the only memory she has that she can look back on fondly, as opposed to the bloodshed she has been so frivolously exposed to.

So absorbed in the warm rain of your memory, Ada nearly forgets the task Wesker had assigned for her. Abruptly and harshly, she is once again given another reminder of why you should stay far away from her. You make her weak, as Wesker told her, and neither of them cannot afford that weakness. She was fortunate enough to never disclose your identity with him, as he may have hunted you down in retaliation to her slacking efforts.

She doesn't know what she would do if she learned you were suffering out there. Wherever you are.

Opening the file Wesker sent to her, Ada scrutinizes the myriad of information sent her way. Through the grapevine, there was hearsay of Umbrella surviving the wreckage of Raccoon City. Satellite imagery displayed a vast forest where they had set up their 'sanctuary,' as they called it. Within the sanctuary were survivors of Raccoon City, where they would be kept captive to avoid exposing Umbrella and forcing them to face the consequences of their mistakes.

Her task was simple: find out if they have samples of Amber in their possession. If so, deliver the sample back to Wesker.

Of course, with this mission arose heavy concern. Images of you being subject to Umbrella's abuse sent a serrated rush of panic through her body. Ada had practically torn herself asunder with her efforts to protect you, she never acknowledged how other dangers may have slipped through the cracks.

A consideration, one much stronger than before, is what she is faced with. Giving into her selfish desires and having you by her side would benefit her happiness, yes, but it would also expose you to the horrors of her life. Leaving you without this burden in whatever life you had chosen for yourself would most likely benefit your happiness, yes, but would expose you to peril she cannot control. She would put her life down for your happiness, after all.

This consideration plagues Ada's mind as she is flown out to the sanctuary. Since the area was under investigation by another team, she had to play this smart, no matter how badly she wished to storm through the doors and hunt you down.

Yellow tape surrounds the entire premise, and numerous police officers and detectives are scattered amongst the area. Picking the lock to a window; Ada slides into the building with flexible ease. She lands with a bounce upon a bed. The springs whine beneath her weight; the headboard creaks with frail fragility. She finds herself in a sunken mess of fluffy throw blankets and tacky plushies. Climbing out of the array after practically drowning in it, Ada straightens her dress before scrutinizing the room.

The area is naturally stale. The same way a bleak, depressing hospital room feels. However, this detail is hidden beneath the mass of decorations and clutter. It is surrounded by love, despite its dull foundation.

A rickety bookshelf and stale bedside table are settled by the bed. On them are books checked out from the sanctuary's library, as well as wilting plants, a flickering salt lamp, dusty candles, and even more heaps of plushies. Ada's heels sink into a fuzzy rug as she studies the contents. A clothing rack can be found, too, with boring clothes hung upon it. Stickers and doodles adorn the supports, as well. 

Across from this was a sofa couch that sat opposite a chunky television. Cheesy horror movies are stacked on top of the thick surface. Another plant sits by the television in a custom-painted pot, leaves adorned in brown decay. Another plushie is rested against the TV, as well. God, how many stuffed animals does a person need?

Nothing within this small expanse relates to your whereabouts or the Amber, which eases Ada's mind. She lets out a sigh of relief. It would pain her in ways she could never fathom to know you were suffering in Umbrella's disturbed idea of a "sanctuary" while she was too busy trying to forget you.

Ada walks through the adjacent threshold and finds a small kitchen. Once again, the dull appearance had been diluted with heartfelt decor. Hand-crafted paintings are strung upon the walls. Some show the childlike fun of the artist, while others display the raw talent every brush and stroke exudes. A small table is huddled in the corner with a vase of Lego flowers serving as the centerpiece.

Cooking utensils, handmade clay figures, and tea sets are all scattered on the kitchen counters. A package of chamomile tea had been left out on the same counter and the shattered pieces of a mug had been left on the concrete. Strange, but it does not pull her attention.

It isn't until something catcher her eye while on her way out does her heart pound. By the art on the wall, beyond the scatterings of band posters and paintings, a myriad of polaroids had been taped into the shape of a heart.

And directly in the middle is a polaroid of you.

It is a candid shot of you in the sanctuary's garden surrounded by lush flowers. Fat, glittery smile on your face, there is more light in your eyes than Ada had ever seen. Beyond the jealousy for the photographer who got the privilege of drowning in that gaze, a sinking pit of dread sits like a brick in her stomach.

You were here. This whole time, you were here.

It only makes sense this is your room, she should have known. Who better to bring love into such a dank estate than you? You've made something bland more lively, as you do in all other areas of life. But, she was so concerned with roping you into the violent dangers of her life, that she strayed as far away from you as she could. Still, you found yourself here in the end. She was so concerned with keeping her vigorous feelings for you at bay that her negligence had caused you to be thrust into the darkest pits of this world. And nothing she can do now will erase the sheer weight of her frivolous mistake.

Her chest expands and deflates rapidly with hyperventilating breaths. Black dots swim in her doubled vision. Her skin is sheen with sweat. Nausea swims in her stomach. She collapses onto the bed, your bed. A quiet array of whispered "no"'s evades the cramped bedroom. She can't think, can't breathe, can't do anything!

"My petal, I'm so sorry. My sweet petal... How could I have let this happen...?" Ada is completely and utterly devastated.

The pervasion of an unfamiliar voice seeps in from outside the door. Ada covers her mouth to muffle the hyperventilating breaths protruding from her.

"T said they've fled to Spain. Fucking Spain, can you believe that shit?"

"Goddamn Umbrella... If only Oliveira were still here to see this. 'Give him somethin' else to do than daydream about his bitch, 'know what I mean?"

"I hear ya. Dude's a fucking nutcase."

Spain? Is that where you could be? Is that where Umbrella has taken you?

The doorknob jiggles and Ada immediately stands to her feet. Her swift nature had been robbed from her, as her legs now felt like two bags of sand. Her head throbs violently. It sounds like a tumultuous clammer before she succumbs to the turmoil and falls to the ground.

Sweat seeping down her forehead and her hands shaking, Ada attempts to pull herself up. She grips the corner of the bed frame and pulls her entire body weight. Her stiletto then accidentally kicks something beneath the bed. Looking for identification, Ada finds a plastic case with several cassette tapes inside. As she studies it, the doorknob jiggles once more. After greedily taking hold of it, Ada swiftly takes a few more souvenirs before leaving. The polaroid of you, a flower you molded out of clay, and an opossum plushie nestled on your bed. Then, she is off.

And within the penthouse that feels more like a model house than it does her actual home, Ada sits in her office. Inside the case full of cassettes, dates are written on each tape. Upon closer inspection, there's a sudden halt in activity after October. Almost as if Umbrella has lost interest in you. She prays this is the only reason, that they had released you and let you enjoy a life filled with the happiness you deserve. Thinking of the opposite has her whole body shivering.

Ada takes the cassette player in her desk and pops the earliest tape into place. She was so invested in finding where you had run off to, she had completely disregarded the gut-wrenching effect your voice would have on her. It's so... pretty. Like the first birdcall of Spring, like gentle waves crashing against the shore.

Ada is quick to grasp her control back, shifting her attention to the actual context of your words instead of how badly she wished to hear you whisper in her ear.

The contents of the tape display an audio journal, where you recall every horrid detail of the night that changed your life. You mention Leon Kennedy and Ada rolls her eyes from the annoyance his mere name brings. Six years have passed since she's seen him, or even thought of him, for that matter. But, the irritation that cop was marvelous at triggering still lives on. Of course, he's the first thing you talk about. She's sure he'd be ecstatic knowing this.

You speak about your time working at Mizoil Gas Station. When you trail off about your coworkers, your voice perceptibly drops when you speak of one in particular. With his wandering hands, sultry words, and a compulsion to ignore every 'no' you sent his way, you admit to yourself how good it felt to kill him.

As infuriated as this makes Ada, you then speak her name, and all coherent thoughts are stolen from her. She has to cover her mouth to restrain the sharp gasp that escapes. You do not speak thoroughly of your encounter with her, much to her dismay. Only detailing how she guided you out of the police department and protected you. Still, she revels in the harmonious melody of you speaking of her.

Ada can crawl out of cloud nine when you, unfortunately, move on to the next fraction of that night. To escape the zombies that attacked you and her, you sought protection in the local gun shop. There, you meet someone she was not aware of.

Jill Valentine.

Ada's eyes narrow when you speak of this woman. She can see the obvious signs of her being attracted to you, but you could be none-the-wiser to these affections. Your inability to heed flirtation is adorable if Ada were to be honest.

There's another transition to where you meet another man. Someone who, once again, Ada was unfamiliar with.

Carlos Oliveira.

He, too, showed obvious signs of being attracted to you. Which, once again, flew over your head. Both he and Jill had saved your life numerous times and you expressed this gratitude. To you, it was nothing but a common heroic act from two hardworking cops. Ada, however, read through the lines of their actions the same way she could read a children’s book.

They are in love with you. Hopelessly so. That much is clear.

It should be obvious. This is you we're talking about, after all. As much as she wishes they wouldn't, it is simply impossible to not become irrevocably besotted with you. Even if it were feasible, it would simply be brainless not to wish to spend the rest of forever with you.

The tape whirs as it reaches its ending point. Your story ends with waking up at Fox Park Hospital before being sent to this sanctuary. However, there is nothing that implies where your path has led six years later. There are miscellaneous updates on your physical health and your mental state, but there are zero indications of where you have vanished from.

With you gone and no reliable trace of your disappearance, there are only two potential outcomes of your whereabouts. Either you are still in Umbrella's clutches or those two cops have taken you for themselves. Six years of contemplation and Ada has finally reached a solution. Not a structured one, but a solution, nonetheless.

Find you, ensure your safety, and pray to God she has enough strength to leave you after.

And you, Y/N L/N, are exactly where Ada thought you'd be. However, the circumstances of your whereabouts are far different than what she presumed them to be.

After Dr. Gorkis, the man you had once called your friend, forced you into a state of unconsciousness, you were comatose for an undisclosed amount of time. When you wake, you are perplexed over your foreign environment. Inspecting your surroundings, there is absolutely nothing that can enlighten you of what happened within the dark gap of your memories.

The room you have awoken in is gloomy, accompanied by the cracked lantern protecting you from complete murk. The stone walls surrounding you are riddled with moss and chains. Several shelves stand awkwardly in the corners, where dilapidated books and broken pots all rest on the rickety surface. A rusted plate sits by your feet. A cluster of flies hover over the mashed potatoes hardened from age and the bread overwhelmed with mold.

You search about for any familiar faces, presumably those of Jill and Carlos. This isn't the first time you've been kidnapped, after all. If they were to lurk in the dark depths of this room, it would surely be no surprise. Instead, the area around you is entirely desolate. Nothing but the sound of your bated breath fills the empty space.

Your neck aches, your head throbs, your body trembles — everything has morphed into a permanent hue of misery you do not recognize. In a morbid way, you could almost be grateful for the circumstances you were kidnapped in before. A beautiful sanctuary, then a lavish home, and now this. A cold, decrepit room with no one to comfort you but yourself.

It's almost comical, how much this has happened to you. However, when you bring your hand to your neck to ease the pain and feel the necklace Carlos gifted you, laughter does not escape you. Alternatively, you curl your fingers around the pearls and yank with what little strength is left in your body. You watch with newfound satisfaction as the pieces clatter to the rotten floorboards.

A new beginning; the next chapter. That is what this feels like.

Stumbling over to the decaying door, it whines as you open it steadily. Haphazardly scanning the area for any potential assailants, you find none. Instead, you find a narrow hallway with lit candles hung upon the decaying walls. The light they exude guides you to a large window smeared with dirt and grime. Outside, the heavy downpour of rain neglects your need to identify your current location.

Your vision then abruptly goes black and an unfathomable pain ensnares your head. It leads you to collapse against the wall as you groan out from the abysmal misery. A voice calls out to you from the depths of your mind. A sort of ghastly incantation. A whisper you would only hear in the presence of a nightmare.

"Pursue them..." It taunts, "The lost lamb is escaping. Deliver onto them... Salvation..."

And just as it had begun, it was over. Your vision has cleared, and the ache in your skull has eased. It was all over.

One glance through the filthy window and fear hits you like a punch to your gut. A group of people dressed in ragged clothing make their presence known, all with pitchforks and axes in hand. Their torches guide them as they follow the muddied path. You can only stare in trepidation as they saunter about like hungry predators in search of prey.

When you hear the chains to the front entrance rattle, you turn and race towards your escape. Up the rotten steps of the ladder, the dingy expanse of the attic does not aid you in your efforts to flee. The light at the end of the tunnel is a shattered window, where the harsh weather brings violent rain and wind into the room. Out of the window, a shed riddled with overgrown ivy sits at a nearly-perfect distance beneath. You'd rather break your ankles than get sacrificed, after all.

Ripping the bandaid off, you leap from the ledge and land clumsily. It is a thunderous collision your assailants most certainly heard. With your feet fortunately intact, you leap from the roof of the shed and sprint away from the chaos behind you.

You hear unintelligible shouts, you hear accelerating footsteps, and you hear gunshots echo from afar. Rain feels like glass as it pours down on you. They meld with your tears and sweat. Your feet are cramped in your new, expensive boots. Still, you do not look back. Even with your lungs aching with every step you take, you continue to race forward as far as your legs can take you.

Several more throbbing paces and you find yourself in the center of a village. Dilapidated houses are scattered around the grounds, while large mountains frame the small area. Shifting your gaze forward, you find a rickety signpost. Signs that once read locations had now been overwhelmed with blood. The words 'Los Iluminados' and 'Lord Saddler' were painted in the red matter.

In a fit of enervation, you fall to the dirt. The substance stains your body and clothes, something Jill and Carlos put so much effort into preserving. You feel a sense of trepidation when your thoughts subconsciously drift to those two. Staring down at yourself, you see how every inch of you is still marked in their possession. The scent of Carlos' cologne still clings to his jacket that he draped around you. The shoelaces Jill quadruple-knotted have now been torn, the loose threading dirty and sticking out in awkward directions. Almost as if after all of this turmoil to escape them, their residue was still printed on you.

With air in your lungs after what felt like so long without it, you bring yourself to your feet. You clench your aching abdomen before limping forward. You then ponder over how you'll recount this absurd story to the police.

Then, you're flying.

Something wraps around your waist and yanks. Before you can comprehend it, the ground grows further, further, and further away from you.

With an exclaim of surprise, you land on the flat ledge of a mountain. You don't have a chance to acknowledge the impossible explanation of you defying gravity. Not when your breath gets lodged in your throat when you find the source of the sudden occurrence.

Ada Wong is that very source.

You stare up at her with the same disbelief she possessed. And this sight of you is surely something she will never forget.

The lick of sun in your eyes has never faltered, despite the years of chaos and disarray you’ve endured. The rain speckles across your body and cascades down your flesh, almost as if it was savoring every inch of you it got to touch. Bruises sit like kisses upon your skin; blood is painted on you like a vermillion art piece. Exactly the way it was six years ago.

Ada has found you. And the intensity of the euphoria that follows could be enough to kill a man, she is sure of it.

It is gut-wrenching, how beautifully nostalgic the sight is. This time, however, she will not allow any unwelcome guests to intrude.

Ada returns her grapple gun to the holster and crouches down beside you. A tender, gloved hand finds its way to your waist. It shivers and hovers, terrified of the emotions she'll be unable to control when she makes contact. Terrified of feeling nothing but cold sheets beneath her and waking up from this dream. When her hand does find you, as it always will, a hot chill surges through her body. Ada can hardly gather herself as the revelation settles. You are safe, you are alive, and you are with her again.

The other hand finds your cheek. The dandelion-pressed ring pokes against your skin, a firm reminder of how long this devotion has lived. She can feel the Earth sparkling in her palms with her hands on you; she can feel the warmth of the stars with your flesh against hers. Every bone, every sinew, every vein — everything good the universe have to offer is right beneath her. So, she does what she wished to do before, but was interrupted. What she has dreamt of doing for years, but was not able to do. She does what she has always wanted to do.

Her lips are on yours faster than you could think.

Everything inside her... Melts.

Rain falls like confetti. The frigid temperatures ease from the heat you share together. Every jut and curve of your lips mold perfectly against hers, as if you were made for each other. It robs her breath straight from her lungs, it robs her brain of any coherent function. The thumping of her heart batters in her ears as though it were trying to lunge from her chest with its sheer, rampant speeds. Her hands shiver with fervent need. The lump in her throat remains lodged no matter how much she tries to swallow it. What on Earth are you doing to her?

Your kiss is more soul-crushing than she would like to admit, as pride has always been her most prized possession. And it is all so stupidly cliché that Ada could almost laugh. A kiss in the rain. She never thought she would experience something as tooth-rotting and romantic as this. Still, it succeeds in practically shattering what remains of her moral compass. The suave and collected Ada Wong has been shattered. And the devil on her shoulder begs her to indulge in every last sliver of you she can.

She's a woman of self-control, but you had torn that control straight from her hands and claimed it as yours. She's a woman with tight fists and cruel words, but you have taken every rough edge and filed them down to soft curves.

When you inevitably part, Ada follows the direction your lips go, absolutely desperate for another taste. She is practically inconsolable without your warmth.

"Y/N..." She gasps out your name. It's a silent prayer for more of this, for more of you.

Dark webs of veins then spread among your face like woven spider's silk. It causes your vision to blur and your ears to ring. You wince from the sudden surge of pain and recoil from Ada's touch, something she didn't anticipate being so gutted by. The agony pumps through your veins like a drug; it has you writhing and groaning against the mud. It practically robs you of all your senses, the only comprehensible thing being the torture inflicted upon your feeble body.

Ada is then forcefully brought to reality where she is cruelly reminded of how this is not real. She cannot have you and you were never meant to be hers. No matter how badly she wishes you could be.

When you turn over, clutching your stomach in pain, she places her hand on your shoulder. Your eyebrows scrunched in confused pain, face wet from the pouring rain, lips sheen from her lip gloss. You are beautiful in the most devastating way. The sight bursts her heart open as if someone has nestled a bomb in her chest cavity. But, how she feels in this moment is not important. The one thing she has torn herself apart to prevent is now happening. You are hurting.

"What- What's happening to me!?" You cry out, a chunk of blood splattering from your mouth when you cough.

"Y/N... My petal...!" Ada's thumb rubs soothing circles on your arm while her cheek rests against the same surface. She clutches onto you like you're her lifeline, her last sliver of hope.

A voice interrupts. "Ada! I've been looking everywhere for-"

Ada rips her gun from its holster and points it at the intruder in fervent speed. She is terrified of being torn away from you like she was several years ago, she cannot let it happen again.

Luis Sera puts his hands up in defense, eyes blown wide in shock from her sudden shift in nature. In one hand of his is a dirtied white box with tape sloppily wrapped around the frame. He shakes it timidly, diverting her attention to what is most important about their agreement. Cure Ada of the infection and she'll let him take a seat on her helicopter.

Her stance does not halter, however. Instead, she throws yet another demand his way.

"Cure them." She orders. A perceptible tinge of despair is present in her tone.

When he remains frozen, Ada steps closer and presses the barrel of her gun directly to his forehead.

"Cure them or you know what happens." Her stare is violent. Her disposition is terrifying. There is nothing but the honest, undying truth with every syllable she speaks.

"I- But, our deal-?"

A gunshot echoes.

Deafening. Heart-stopping. The sound is accompanied by the harsh thump of Luis' dead body. Horrifying.

Ada takes the box from his limp grasp. She flips his deceased body over and steals the sample of Amber doused in blood, shoving it into her pocket. Using her sharp nails and an impromptu knife, she then slices the tape from the box. Once she hastily takes the syringe from its plastic enclosure, she rushes over to you.

Her behavior endures an abrupt shift when she crouches at your side. From a blood-thirsty monster to a fluffy-winged angel, Ada caresses your skin as if it were fine silk. You whimper as you float in and out of consciousness. You are so inert, in fact, you do not feel the intrusion of a needle and the anecdote seeping through your bloodstream. Ada comforts you through this entire process. Caresses to your flesh, kisses to your skin — she does it all terrified of it being the last time she ever touches you.

With the key to Luis' laboratory, she knows what her next course of action is. What she originally anticipated to be a quick check-up on your well-being had manifested into awakening her deep, irreparable fervor for you. But, she cannot let her measly emotions blind her to what is most important. You and only you.

She will stay, cure you, and pray to God once more that she has enough strength to leave you after.

And it kills her more than she ever thought it would.

When you wake, you find a blinding, fluorescent light hanging above your head. Cold metal and jagged leather nestles into your skin. The tapping of keyboards and technology humming fills the silence. You could almost roll your eyes if it weren't for the confusion overruling all. Have you been kidnapped again?

Attempting to gain mobility and move your body was entirely fruitless. Instead, a weak whine is all you can conjure. The frail sound is immediately met with the affections of someone else in the room.

Even in these circumstances — the grungy expanse of Luis' lab and Ada's dead parasite on the ground — she has never felt such euphoria. The severity of these feelings terrifies her, but she cannot help but fall into the emotions like a child would jump into a swimming pool. To be with you, there is nothing she could ever want more. But, as she has firmly stated numerous times, she cannot be selfish with you. No matter how badly she wishes to do such.

"Everything is going to be alright, petal. I won't let anything happen to you... Never again..." Another kiss is pressed upon your forehead. Ada's lip gloss stirs with the icy sweat beaming on your flesh.

One tap to the computer and the machinery whirs to life. Three lasers then protrude into you and begin to eradicate the Las Plagas inside of your body.

A horrible, gut-wrenching scream evades the room. Agony hits you like a tidal wave. You shout, you wail, you sob. You are in such horrendous pain, it is impossible to keep quiet. Your relentless squirming to escape the source of such misery was futile, as the restraints around your wrists keep you compliant and subject to this torment. Reassurances of "I'm here, petal" fail to conquer the sheer volume of your cries. Ada takes your hand, peppering kisses and nuzzles upon any surface of skin she can reach. Soul-crushing dread satiates her body upon seeing you in such pain. It is hurting her more than it is hurting you.

How could she have been so ignorant? How could she have let your suffering get to this point?

How could she have possibly lived every day oblivious to your well-being? How can she live with herself now knowing she had so carelessly neglected you?

How can she possibly live without you?

And as fast as it started, it was all over. The hum of the machinery silences. A vibrant "SUCCESS" flashes on the computer screen. Ease envelops your body like a warm blanket and for the umpteenth time that day, you doze off. It's a slumber like never before, where the sheer exhaustion derived from the most eventful 24 hours of your life has finally boiled over.

You now lay there. Lifeless.

"Y-... Y/N...?" Ada's voice barely surfaces above a whisper.

The death grip you had on her hand weakened and Ada never anticipated the sheer terror it would make her feel. The fear is a heavy weight on her chest, a tremor in her body. Something wet cascades down her cheeks. With skepticism, she brings her gloved hand to her face to identify the strange substance.

She's... crying?

Ada can't remember the last time she had cried. Her entire life she has powered through any turmoil with her chin held high and a stone-cold soul. Never was she allowed to feel, hence the secure control she has over herself. Now, however, the emotions escape through her facade the way a gunshot wound bleeds through a dirty bandaid.

Your flesh is cold, your body is painfully still. Ada can not bring herself to consider the conclusion that pokes and prods at her mind. Where the big heart she fell in love with stops beating. Where the eyes she'd give her life to gazes in forever loses their light. Where the only good thing this disgusting world has to offer is taken away.

Where she loses hold of the only happiness she has ever felt.

The clinical logic that had always benefited her has now become her worst enemy. Ada scans your body from head to toe, desperate for even the smallest sliver of life. More gasps of your name pervade the room, as well as the gentle, yet desperate nudges to your body in hopes of waking you from your slumber.

Ensuring you are safe, happy, and far away from the dangers within her own life has become her only purpose. Without you, Ada is now lost within the whorls of her empty, dreary world.

The woman is full-on weeping now. It had been so long, she had forgotten what it felt like to cry altogether. Her face twists with every ugly sob parting from her mouth. Her form convulses with each uncontrollable cry protruding out of her chest. Ada has become a mess of snot and tears, surely a sight the old version of her would be revolted by.

A cough fills the lonely silence. And the groggy sound could rival an angel's symphony with its raw beauty.

Alive.

You are alive.

"Hey, you did it...!" You manage to wheeze out upon seeing your status on the computer screen, voice dazed and crooked.

A smile, albeit a weak one, breaks out on your face and Ada swears she has not ever seen a sight so breathtaking. Her hands cling to your face, searching every inch to ensure she hasn't lost the only thing she could ever love. And then, she smiles. Ada smiles like she never has before; Ada smiles like she has never known pain. It is nearly deranged, how blinding and exhilarating the emotions on her face are.

She speaks before her brain can compute the consequences of her next actions.

"I love you."

The three words are spoken with such acute clarity, it is difficult to not be completely entranced by them. Ada's eyes are blown wide as her gaze sinks into yours. Her body trembles from the irrepressible fear mixed with relief coursing through her. For the first time in (quite literally) forever, she is telling the pure, unadulterated truth. However, your lack of reciprocation causes Ada's logic to fully take control of her mind. You do not love her. And as impossible as it is, she must force herself to not love you. But God, you do not make it easy.

"I-I mean- Did you have any doubt, petal? I should be offended you think so low of me. But, with those eyes, how could I be?" The tremble in her voice jeopardizes her attempt at swiftly building vanity.

You don't respond to her, you can't respond. All you can think about is how you nearly died and how Jill and Carlos will surely slit her throat for what she has done.

Ada glances down at the ring on her finger, the very thing that has held her over these past six years. It is almost humiliating to wear it. To know its existence is because of her inability to move on from this stupid crush that has somehow harbored full control of her life. Then again, Ada cannot bear to ever part from it. The thought makes her queasy, like a boat swaying against harsh waves of melancholic uncertainty. To toss the ring overboard would mean completely succumbing to the force of the sea, to drown in the heavy mass of her feelings. Cursed for eternity with stagnant sorrow.

And even though the truth strikes like a knife, Ada must commit to the plan she originally formed. Bring you to safety and pray to God once again that she has enough strength to leave you after.

"Three times..." You whisper to yourself in disbelief, your voice a ghost that Ada can hardly decipher.

With furrowed brows and a quiet hum of question, she beckons you to continue.

"Only six years and I have managed to get kidnapped not once, not twice, but three times. That's gotta earn me a place in Guinness, right?"

She reads through your attempt at masking your prevailing emotions with humor. That playful attitude, how deeply she loves it. And how devastatingly difficult it is for her to fall out of love with it. In these circumstances, when your lively demeanor is used to shield yourself from pain, it quickly festers into something she despises.

Even through everything that has happened, you are still playful. Cracking jokes, making comical jests. Just like you did all those years ago. Ada could almost be angry at you for this, for making her fall so clumsily in love with you. Almost.

"First, it was Umbrella. They had never hurt me, so I never felt they deserved the title of "kidnappers," but I guess my naivety is what got me into this shit in the first place."

This 'naivety' you speak so poorly of is mistaken for the honest warmth of your heart. You have this beautiful ability to find positivity, light, and kindness in the ugly world. Yet again, another reason why it is impossible for her to untangle you from her heartstrings. She does not speak of this, however. She is afriad of vomiting out every syllable of adoration her voice could muster.

"Then, it was..."

You hesitate, a subtlety Ada does not overlook.

"Jill and Carlos." Their names sit like rotten fruit on your tongue.

You cringe upon imagining how those two would surely react to you now, fawning over your current state as if you're some baby lamb. They nearly have a breakdown from something as mere as a paper cut, you cannot imagine the absolute warfare they'd induce upon seeing you now. Beaten, bloodied, and your organs practically on fire from the laser-induced torture they had just endured. Though, it feels strangely good to be able to breathe without them.

"A little over six months is how long they kept me. Again, they never hurt me, so it feels wrong of me to call them "kidnappers"... When I think too hard about it, I know it is what they are, I just never wanted to admit it. God, they took my freedom like it was pocket change!"

The sneer you hold has nothing against the absolute fury stretched among Ada's face.

"In the end, I escaped. I-I didn't know where I intended to go or what my plan was, but now I really, really don't know what to do..."

To make matters worse, you curl into yourself and begin to cry. It kills her to do such, but she must hold herself back, as giving you comfort would only add fuel to the fire that is her devotion to you. And to refrain from scooping you in her arms is practically killing her. To not be able to touch and comfort you, Ada knows that this is the universe testing her. No, torturing her. Every mistake, every flaw, every selfish deed — this is the karma that caught up to her after a lifetime of running from its inevitability.

"And I'm just so scared. I know they're gonna find me again and I won't be able to escape them. I'll never be free. I'll be running forever until I either submit to them o-or die!"

A beat passes when another unwelcome, unruly sob escapes your throat. The sheer calamity of this day had prevented you from processing these events. Now, the exhaustion and anguish are too much for you to bottle up.

"Oh, petal..." As you cry, Ada's long acrylics dig into the meat of her palm.

She refrains from caressing the warm skin of your shoulder. She holds herself back from pressing another tender kiss to your forehead. To prevent herself from doing such feels like suffocating. As if the heavy mass of her burning desires became physical matter and were now crushing her.

"Ada, I can't thank you enough for all you have done for me." Your gratitude is certainly not taken for granted, as every pretty word falls from your mouth and directly into the mosaic of her heart.

She cannot be in love with you anymore. She can't, she can't, she can't.

"I'm sorry for being so selfish, but please..." With helpless desperation in your eyes, you plead as though your words do not make her absolutely weak.

She must stay strong, she must complete her plan. Find you, ensure your safety, and pray to God she has enough strength to leave you after.

"Don't leave me..."

Welp, there goes that plan.

She would slaughter every soul before she'd admit it to herself, but turning her back on it has now done more harm than good.

You make her soft.

Needy.

Hungry.

You have rendered her to the same disposition of an animal, entirely feral for any chunk of you she can sink her teeth into.

"I'm right here, petal... I'm not going anywhere."

Ada Wong has let go. And you are oblivious to the consequences of this.

The resistance she once had has now faded. For six years, these tree roots have coiled around her limbs, keeping her restrained within the suffocating soil. Today, they have untangled themselves. Ada surfaces the thick dirt to find Spring in its most genuine, vulnerable time. Bunnies chase through the blossoming flowers. Trees dance with the gentle breeze. Fresh rivers flow through the bright forest. The war has ended; the torture is over.

You are at her side and there is nothing Ada could ever want more.

When she guides you out of the laboratory, she informs you of the helicopter that will soon arrive. If you weren't seconds away from succumbing to exhaustion, you'd notice the terrifying, devoted undertones beneath her structured facade. There is a man and a woman you have seen this behavior in too well, after all. However, Ada's ability to maintain herself differs from Jill and Carlos' messy aptitude.

She says your name, beckoning you to follow her. Y/N. It feels so good to say it, to have the sugary word on her tongue. It feels so good to speak it into the air and watch those eyes gaze at her with wonder, the same wonder she has fallen so hopelessly in love with. The bliss that follows after you should be considered a crime with the sheer effect it has on her. Then again, Ada was never one to follow the rules.

The two of you both race through the many twists and turns that scatter the island. Shipping containers, cargo lifts, and barrels splattered with yellow paint, you and Ada dodge the obstacles in your path. And still, she protects you with her life. Just as she had wholly promised.

Back in Raccoon City, she had lost control. She cannot afford to lose that control again, not when losing you is a possibility. Her mindless infatuation had already thrust you into danger, she would die if she let it happen once more.

With burning lungs and weak legs, you both finally arrive at the loading docks. Ada doesn't break a sweat as she tells you the helicopter will be arriving shortly. You collapse onto a pile of brown, paper sacks, now finally given a moment of rest after so many exhausting hours without it. You could nearly cry with relief.

The creak and whine of footsteps against the thin metal floors pervade the air.

A voice speaks.

"Y/N...!?"

You both look to identify the voice.

Your stomach sinks like an anchor at sea.

Leon Kennedy.

⁺ 🎧 , 🪷 you are currently listening to . . . ⁺ 🪺 , 🎵 ꪆ

THE BONUS TRACK !

❝ I CARE FOR YOU STILL

AND I WILL FOREVER . . . ❞

this is what i imaged ada's flower-pressed ring to look like. and this is what i imagined the teddy bear necklace carlos gave reader looks like.

gif creds :: ada.

[chanelles-world]

heated 𝓫𝓲𝓻𝓽𝓱𝓭𝓪𝔂

synopsis: you decided to surprise your bf for his birthday by showing up at midnight to be the first to wish him happy birthday but it ended up HEATED. iykwim;)

author’s note: this made me want more. i need this type of shit in my life.

warnings: c sturniolo x reader, no y/n! birthday sex, moaning, f!receiving, m!receiving, pussy fucking, dom! attitude, groping, soft touches, heated kissing, cute fluff…

At 11:45 PM on a Friday night, I arrived at my boyfriend of two years' house to surprise him for his birthday, which would begin at midnight. I wanted to be the first to wish him a happy birthday.

Pulling up quietly to his street, I turned off my car and carefully made my way to the backyard gate. I opened it gently, taking care not to disturb the silence as the house was dark and everyone seemed to be asleep.

I walked further into the backyard as I approached the big oak tree that led to his room. He always left his window open for me. Climbing the tree was easy because I had done it many times before. However, as I was making my way up, a branch suddenly cracked under my weight. I almost tripped and scraped my arm against the rough bark.

Wincing slightly, I regained my balance and continued climbing up. When I reached his window, I looked inside and saw him sleeping peacefully. I carefully pushed it open and climbed through, trying not to make a sound.

Despite my efforts, there was a small thud as my feet hit the floor. I froze when I heard rustling in the sheets, cringing and hoping I hadn't woken him. After a few seconds, the moving stopped. I took a deep breath, relieved that he was still asleep.

I quietly tiptoed to the edge of the bed and stared in awe at Chris sleeping peacefully. I took my phone out of my legging pocket and checked the time. It was 11:59. I turned off my phone and placed it on his nightstand.

Gently, I climbed onto his bed and slowly straddled him as he lay on his stomach, his face turned away from the window. With my legs on either side of him, I leaned my head close to his and gently kissed his cheek, moving my way across his face with soft kisses.

He began to stir, groaning softly as his eyes flickered open in confusion. I climbed off him and lay beside him as he turned to face me.

"Happy birthday, baby," I whispered, staring at him.

Chris gave me a small smile as I moved closer to him. Now more awake, Chris wrapped his arms around my waist, pulling me even closer. I gave him a kiss and smiled.

"What a surprise," he said softly, as he leaned in and kissed me. I kiss him back for a moment or so before pulling away, but Chris stopped me, keeping me still as the kiss lingered a little more.

His hands traveled up my back as one of them made its way to my face, caressing my cheek as he kissed me one more time before pulling away.

Still in his arms, my eyes flicker across his face, taking in his features. His brown wavy hair framed his face perfectly, and his blue eyes sparkled with a light that always captivated me.

A few freckles dotted his nose, adding a boyish charm to his look. His lips, wet and pink from our kiss, seemed even more inviting.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered, gliding his thumb across my lips as he looked at me, then down at my mouth. I hitched my breath and felt a blush rising in my cheeks.

“God, can I kiss you?” he asked, his voice husky and filled with longing. Even though we both knew the answer, I nodded slightly. I wanted him to kiss me, more than anything.

Chris leaned in again, capturing my lips with his in a deep, slow kiss. The world around us seemed to fade away as our mouths moved together perfectly. I felt the warmth of his breath mingling with mine, his lips soft and insistent. My hands found their way into his hair, fingers tangling in the wavy strands as I pulled him closer, if that was even possible.

but soon, Chris gently lifted me up until I was lying down with him hovering above me. Our kisses grew more passionate, and I could feel the intensity building between us. His hands slowly roamed my body, sending shivers of pleasure through me. his fingers laying with the material of my t-shirt. as it then escalated to his hand traveling up my shirt stopping at my waist.

In a swift, fluid motion, I shifted, getting from underneath him to straddling him as he lay beneath me. The new position allowed me to take control, deepening the kiss as our tongues danced together. His hands gripped my hips, guiding me as I moved against him, eliciting soft moans that escaped both our lips. i continued to move against him, moving faster as i heard a groan coming from his mouth.

I broke the kiss for a moment, gasping for air, but Chris pulled me back down, his lips finding mine again with a desperate hunger. Our bodies pressed together, heat radiating between us as the kiss became more intense. “mm” i moaned through my lips. The room was filled with the sound of our heavy breathing and soft moans.

after a few moments Chris pulled away, both of us breathing heavily. lust filled both our eyes both to the rim as Chris held onto me tightly. “fuck, i need you” he whispers staring deeply into my eyes. I couldn’t deny that look.

i kiss chris once before grabbing the hem of my shirt and pulling it over my head revealing the black lace bra i was wearing. chris growled and swiftly flipped us over, me being on the bottom.

before i could settle down chris firmly pressed his lips against mine before kissing his way down my neck. once he found my sweet spot he nibbled gently, before adding pressure.

“ohh” i say, a moan escaping from my lips. once Chris made his mark, his kisses trailed downward to the center of my chest as one of his hands traveled to my shoulder, pulling at my bra strap, slowly sliding it down my arm. He did the same to the other one as now both straps were free.

without hesitation chris pulled down my bra the rest of the way setting my breasts free. cold air hitting my skin made my nipples react. he laced one arm to my back to unhook the clip before throwing my bra across the room.

chris then glides his fingers across my chest as he goes to grab my left tit. leaning his head down, chris allows his warm tongue to flick the bud, making me shiver.

he does it again as he stations his eyes on me. my chest rising upwards as Chris starts sucking my bud while massaging my tit with his hand that was still placed on it. “mm chris..” i elicit a moan as my eyes flutter closed. he wasn’t even doing much and it still made my body react. as soon as chris was done playing with the left he moved to the right, doing the exact same thing and giving it the same amount of attention.

“oh gosh” i whispered feeling goosebumps scatter across my body. the way he sucked and played with my breats felt so good..

chris unlatched his mouth, grinning up at me. “oh you like that huh? you like when i play with your tits?” chris says taunting.

i rolled my eyes. “oh shut up” i whisper. chris slowly makes his way back up as we were now face to face. we gazed into each other’s eyes for who knows how long before i pulled his face close to mine. i kiss him hard, wanting more.

our kisses were beginning to be sloppy as we pulled away racing to take our clothes off. once all the garments were scattered everywhere, chris layed me comfortably on his bed as he hovered over me once more.

“what do you want?” chris whispered. “you..” i said not thinking straight.

“i know, silly. what do you want?” chris repeated, giving me a small smile. my hands were wrapped around his neck as my fingers were lazily playing with his hair.

i felt my cheeks burn of embarrassment. “oh um.. slow but hard, i- you know… i want to feel all of you.” I whisper as the embarrassment slowly subsided.

“oh shit..” chris moans at the thought of his dick being inside your pussy. “the way you said that is making my cock twitch.”

“good..” i reply feeling bold. my hands leave chris’ neck and travel downwards towards his manhood. i grab a hold of his hard cock and started rubbing him. he was big, like 9 inches, big. a few inches wide. I still don't know how he fits into me everytime.

in a matter of seconds all I could hear was the groans that filled up his room. i squeezed his cock harder, as i continued to rub him. “oh fuck!” a moan comes out of chris’ mouth. “shiiit” he breathes as he clamps his eyes shut.

trying his best to hold himself up, chris quickly reaches for my hand, signaling to stop. “if you continue i won’t be able to hold it in..” he sighs, staring at me.

i nod my head, understandingly. chris takes a deep breathe before gliding a few fingers over my lips. his body still hovering me. “open your mouth for me, ma.” chris demands.

i open my mouth without a word as i feel two of his fingers in my mouth. “suck on them.” chris spits out. i don’t know where this attitude came from but i’m not complaining. it’s taken me by surprise but i’m not surprised that i’m enjoying this.

i start to suck on his fingers as i stare directly into his eyes. his face heated and eyes lustful. to make this even better, i grab a hold of his hand as i start to deep throat his fingers.

chris pulls his hand away. “i never gave you permission to do that shit.”

“well i did it anyway.” i explain boldly. chris rolls his eyes as he roughly pulls my legs apart. still holding our stare, chris uses the two fingers i sucked, to rub my folds.

“ohhh” i moan in pleasure. Chris continues rubbing my folds as he starts playing with my clit. rubbing in circles. slowly getting faster. “chris” i breathe as i could hear my shaky voice. i was getting close with every movement this man made. my body was enjoying everything. i arched my back and grabbed my legs, pulling them farther apart as chris played magic with his fingers. both fingers were now in my pussy walls as his thumb ran circles around my clit.

“fuck fuck fuck” i moan loudly as my body starts shaking. “i’m so damn close” i whisper. my eyes were shut in this moment, as i took in this feeling.

“oh you like that, huh?” chris taunts. he knew that he was good at what he does. “oh yes, chris, fuck” i moaned, not caring about the smirk that was plastered on his face.

all i knew was i wanted to cum. i needed to cum hard. i was a few seconds away from cumming when chris abruptly stopped. my eyes shoot wide open. “what the fuck was that for?” i said, obviously annoyed.

“i’m not done with you, yet” chris smirks. amusement written all over his face.

“what the fuck does that mean?” i groan. “i was so close”

“oh, i know” chris chuckles, grabbing my legs and pulling them close but keeping my legs still in the air.

. “chris please” i groan, wanting more but confused as to what he was thinking.

“you want to remind me what you wanted?” chris speaks looking at me.

“what?” i ask confused. my mind still fogged up from moments before.

“how do you want it?” chris responds by pushing my legs, closer to my stomach. i could feel his cock up against my pussy as he leans forward.

his hard tip rubbing my v lips, making it hard for me to think. “fuck i don’t know, just fuck me al-

before i could finish, chris slams into me.. allowing his cock to fill me up full. hitting me straight in the g spot. “AHH” i scream as my eyes close shut.

chris stopped his movements allowing me to get used to his girth, before thrusting his hips into me once more. once again hitting that spot.

“oh fuck” Chris groans feeling my warm pussy inviting him in. “you’re so tight, ma.”

“it’s more like you’re fucking huge.” i mumble, groaning a few seconds later.

“you right, you right” chris smirks before groaning, as i squeezed my pussy walls against his dick.

“shit! don’t do that” chris sputters out. it was my turn to smirk. chris didn’t take that well as he started out slow but without warning decided to pick up the pace.

he pulled his cock out of my pussy, then slammed back into me, shaking the bed. “FUCK” we both exclaimed at the same time. he continuously thrusts his dick into my pussy at such shockingly high speed, my insides turning.

“you feel so fucking good, baby.” Chris moans in my ear. i gasp for air as his dick slides further into my pussy.

by this time chris separated my legs as they were spread but pulled towards me as he tore my pussy apart. each thrust, made my eyes roll to the back of my head. one of his hands making its way to my neck as he grabs a hold of it, tightening his grip onto my neck as his dick was still inside of me, completely sheathing the insides of my pussy.

at this point I don’t even know if I was still breathing. i tried but nothing came out of my mouth. my mouth was just hung wide open in pain and pleasure.

“oh fuck yeah, oh god your pussy so tight!” chris groans, still placing pressure on my neck. he lets go as he pleases.

“oh, oh shit. fuck!” i finally whimper in ecstasy. this feeling felt so good! “oh you like that don’t you baby?” chris groans.

“oh fuck!” i moan so loudly. i was so close to bursting. my stomach clenching tightly as i held my orgasm, that was approaching. my pussy felt as if it was on the verge of exploding.

biting down on my shoulder hard, chris placed his hands on my breasts and squeezed as hard as he could, causing me to cry out in pleasure. suddenly i couldn’t take it anymore,,

“oh chris.. shit i can’t take it anymore” i moan as my body started shaking.

“yes, yes you can.” chris groans, still pounding into my deep cavern walls. “i’m almost there”

“fuck, chris” i whimper.. as i felt myself start to loose it.

“hold it! fuck!” chris moans, slowing down..before thrusting hard back in, doing this movement over and over again with hitting my g spot. my stomach tight. one more thrust and i felt my high come flooding over me.

“i- shit!” i yell out as i feel my cum shoot all over his cock. once i let go, i felt his cock twitch throughout. chris placed his head in between the crook of my neck as he sloppily thrusted into my pussy, cumming moments later.

his warm seed spilling into me as he moaned. “mm fuck” he whispers, breathing heavily. “what a heated birthday, huh?” i nod in agreement. his dick soft in my v walls as my pussy was milked.

author’s note: fuck i lost it while writing this. i need mr man’s 😔🙏🏾 let me know if we enjoyed this one. reposts are appreciated. lmk if u want to be added to the tag list!

tag list: @mattslolita @mbbsgf @lanas-doll