#i will go back to read this each time i feel like im forgetting parts of this trip | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

osarina · 8 months ago

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ᡣ𐭩 I LAUGH LIKE ME AGAIN (SHE LAUGHS LIKE YOU)

FEATURING: dazai osamu

SUMMARY: four years apart and the ultimate question is about to be answered: do you and dazai really still know each other, or are you clinging to a fantasy of the past? you decide to put it to the test with a game of wits and questions when dazai gets back to your apartment—but as the game drags on, dazai starts to wonder if maybe he was wrong. worse, if maybe he would prefer to be wrong.

(wordcount: 14.5k; ņsfw; fem!reader; port mafia executive!reader, jealous!dazai, possessive!dazai, smoking & drinking, unprotected sex, switch!dazai, switch!reader, undertones of angst (happy ending). lmk if anything is missing, im rushing to get this out!)

AUTHOR'S NOTES: guys here it IS - sorry it's late, but TRUST it's worth it. i'm so proud of this fic, genuinely one of the things im most proud of writing. this is technically a part 2 to he's my collar but can be read as a standalone

It takes far too long for Dazai to make it out of the Port Mafia headquarters, with both Akutagawa and Chuuya prowling about like the dogs they are. He wonders if you tipped either of them off—Chuuya, in particular—because the slug had been looking around like he was searching for someone. He thinks you’re entirely wretched for it, knowing that if he got caught, he’d be trapped in that damp and filthy torture chamber until he managed to finagle his way out, and he plans to make it known to you just how entirely displeased he is by the situation.

The path to your apartment is achingly familiar, and the giddiness in his chest is something he hasn’t felt since the day he left. He knows that he should probably be more careful—he’s still in Port Mafia territory, your apartment spans the top floor of the easternmost building of the five towers—but he also knows that you’re the only one with direct access to the cameras in this building so he’s more reckless than he would’ve otherwise been.

The floors tick up agonizingly slowly, Dazai swears that there must be something wrong with the elevator because it’s never taken this long before to get up to your place. His fingers thrum against his thigh, and his foot taps the ground impatiently. He paces from corner to corner within the small space like a caged animal. He thinks that maybe he should be taking advantage of the time alone, come up with some better excuses as to why he didn’t say anything to you before he left.

“I wouldn’t have left,” isn’t going to cut it. As true as it might be, it’s not the full truth, and Dazai knows you’ll be able to sniff it out in a matter of a few seconds with a clear head. He’s not walking into a cheerful reunion between old lovers, he’s walking into what’s about to be a stressful game of chess against a strategist whom Dazai has always considered a near-equal, a battle of wits against a woman whose whole life has revolved around political warfare. If he wants to keep his dignity intact and his secrets safe, he’s going to have to be incredibly cautious with what he says to you and even with how he reacts to what you say to him.

Still, he can’t help the giddiness. The excitement. He’s missed you. He’s missed you so much that it hurts. He’d thought that over time, the longing for you would go away, but it never did. If anything, it got worse because, over time, the pictures of you started to lack the soothing feeling they used to bring to the aching in his chest. Over time, he started to forget the sound of your voice and the sound of your laugh.

He’d known that you’d been sent away on foreign business not long after his last call to you, but he didn’t think Mori would actually keep you abroad for three whole years. He’d been hoping, maybe, that he could stumble into you one day. Or maybe just watch from afar, get close enough to hear the sound of your voice again. He’s been grossly denied of you for too long, and he knows that it’s of his own doing but that only makes it worse.

When the elevator dings, announcing his arrival on your floor, Dazai is sorely unprepared for the conversation about to take place. He steps into your penthouse, eyes drifting around the familiar vast space.

Like your office, not much has changed since the last time he was here. Your coffee table is still set down a few centimeters too close to the couch in the living room—the same couch he had his first kiss on with you when the two of you were sixteen and drunk on champagne celebrating a successful mission. You still hang your black jacket over a chair instead of properly on a hanger, it’s why it always has a crease on the back—he’d noticed it when you left your office, and he can’t help but smile slightly at the confirmation as his eyes linger on where it’s draped over one of your kitchen chairs.

You tried to convince him that you’ve changed in the years the two of you have been apart, but Dazai doesn’t think you’ve changed much at all.

You’re leaning against the windows, looking down on the city—he knows you must’ve heard the elevator, but you haven’t bothered to look his way yet. There’s an indecipherable expression on your face and a glass of wine in your hand. You’re still dressed in your suit and Dazai notices there’s a glass of whiskey on the rocks untouched on the kitchen table. He shrugs off his trench coat and drapes it over yours, hoping that the scent of you seeps into it because he’s gone too long without it.

His fingers curl around the glass of whiskey you’d left out for him, and for a moment, he swears that he’s eighteen again. He’s making his way to your penthouse after a long mission with Chuuya, you’re expecting him—you always are—and he can never push away the fondness that squeezes his chest when he finds you lounging back on your couch, flipping through channels to find something to watch, a glass of his favorite whiskey set down on the coffee table next to where your feet are propped up as you wait for him to show up.

He wonders if you even care to remember what his favorite is. He wouldn’t blame you if you didn’t.

He makes his way out of the kitchen and back into the living room, and he’s reminded that he’s not eighteen and you’re not waiting for him to show up after a mission because you finally look at him, and his breath catches in his throat.

He thinks you look a bit older now than you did four years ago—to be expected, of course—and there’s a coldness to your eyes that hadn’t been there before. Impossibly, he thinks that you’re somehow even more beautiful than you were when he last saw you, and he realizes again, throat tightening, that even after three years of no contact with you, he’s just as in love with you now as he was the day he left.

He knew it back then before he left, even if he never said it. When he was eighteen and could only feel any inkling of pleasure when he was with you; it wasn’t like he’d never tried to have sex with other people, he’d whore himself out for information at any given chance and slept around frequently after you started dating a civilian to distract himself from the bitter jealousy he felt, but he’d never known how good it was supposed to feel until he slept with you for the first time. When he was seventeen and could only ever feel comfortable in your presence, seeking you out at any given chance when he couldn’t handle being around people anymore; he’d curl up in your office with your orange blanket, napping as you did work, knowing that you’d keep people away from him. He thinks he might’ve even known when he was sixteen when the two of you first met on the streets of the Kanagawa prefecture.

He wonders if you even believed him when he said it earlier—he doubts it, you don’t seem too keen to believe anything he says, and he doesn’t blame you for it.

But whether you believe it or not, it’s yours—that rotted heart of his, shriveled and shabby, riddled with holes and decay, half-eaten by maggots and worms it might be, but it’s still yours. He thinks that it was meant to be yours since the moment he was born, and it’ll be yours even after the two of you are long dead. He doesn’t know how he’s meant to go without you again—he doesn’t think he can. He knows that despite the tentative ceasefire, the Port Mafia and the Agency are still enemies, but he knows in his heart that he won’t be able to leave you again. Even just the sight of you has condemned him completely.

Then you speak, and at once, his entire world falls apart.

“I’m leaving again in the morning,” you finally say, tone flat and eyes sharp and shrewd as you look over him. He reminds himself that this is not a reunion, that he needs to get his head on straight if he wants to make it out of your apartment in one piece, but it’s hard. “I was only brought back to smooth things over with the government after the whole fiasco with Fitzgerald and his American cronies. I’ll be leaving for Russia in the morning to meet with Tolstoy and Nabakov. Hopefully, gain some intel on Fyodor Dostoevsky’s plans before the man makes another move on the city.”

He… did not anticipate that you’d be leaving again so soon. Something cold and sharp latches to his heart, like jagged nails ripping it apart. He makes sure it doesn’t show on his face.

“Be careful,” he tells you quietly. “Dostoevsky… he’s not someone to underestimate. Just-Just be careful.”

You raise your eyebrows, unimpressed, “I’ve worked with Dostoevsky before. I don’t need you to warn me about him.”

Your voice is cool. Sharp. Dazai sighs, knowing that anything he might’ve said to you earlier in the night is lost to you, and he doesn’t know if he’ll have it in him to bare his heart again, only for you to scorn it. He’s not meeting with you as he knows you—as his closest friend, as his lover; he’s meeting with you as the Port Mafia executive. Not the version of you that treats with allies, wining and dining them with glittering eyes and playful smiles as you use your ability to ensure they never turn on the Port Mafia; the version of you that sits at the round table with enemies, with a quick mind and calculating eyes as you decide whether or not they’re worthy of being absorbed into the Port Mafia or if Double Black will be sent out to eradicate them.

“I told you everything I had to say back at the office,” Dazai tries, and he wonders if you’ll let him get away with it—he doubts it, but it’s worth a shot, and it will at least stall for a few moments as he tries to forcibly turn the cogs in his mind to figure out the best way of appeasing you. “I missed you. I… couldn’t say goodbye to you, not if I was to leave. I…”

I love you.

He doesn’t say it; he thinks he was only able to push it out earlier in the night in the heat of the moment, the orgasm-induced haze fogging his brain enough to let it slip out in desperation to make you give him a chance. And it worked because you gave him a second chance when you invited him back to your apartment, but Dazai doesn’t know how to make the most of the opportunity. He thinks he’s a fool for not preparing for this before getting here.

You click your tongue sharply, lip curling up in something close to disgust, and Dazai is glad he didn’t speak his ‘I love you’ because he thinks he might’ve actually cried if that was your reaction to him saying it.

“The only things you told me earlier in the night were half-truths and sweet talk. I didn’t invite you back to my apartment to hear you beg for another chance, Dazai,” you say coolly, and Dazai desperately misses the sound of his given name on your tongue. The corner of your lip curves up into a half-smirk, eyes suddenly glittering beneath the dim lighting of your penthouse as you add, “Although, I wouldn’t be opposed to it after we talk.”

He thinks the fact that you’re already considering an after might be a good sign. He can feel his cheeks flush a bit at your words, but instead of letting himself get rattled, he takes a step forward, well into your personal space, as he dips his face down so close to yours that his lips nearly brush yours as he speaks.

“I’d beg pretty for you,” he whispers, letting his voice drop an octave as his gaze tracks down to your lips. “I’d even get on my knees.”

Unfortunately, you are entirely unbothered by the proposition. “We’ll see, I suppose,” you say, and then raise your eyebrows, signaling for him to take a step back.

He does, and he feels distinctly put out and rejected by your reaction, but he sighs and asks, “What did you invite me here for then?”

He very much does not like the way your eyes glitter now—shrewd this time, more amused, dangerous, as if you know the two of you are about to tread down territory that he’s going to be unfamiliar with. You nod for him to follow you into the kitchen, taking a seat at the head of the table and motioning for him to sit opposite you.

He does.

“We can play a game,” you finally concede. Dazai settles back against his chair, fingers still tapping rhythmically against his glass of whiskey, a terrible habit that Dazai has accrued whenever he feels cornered. Not a frequent occurrence, but damning when it is. Your eyes linger on them, and he knows you’ve pinpointed the tell. He forces himself to stop, but from the way your lips curl up, he can tell it doesn’t matter. “Ten questions each. Yes or no answers only.”

Dazai notices that you pointedly leave out any rule about the honesty of each answer—intentional, surely, so he probes.

“How do we determine the winner?” Dazai asks. He finally takes a sip of the fine whiskey you’d poured for him, and his question from earlier is answered. His favorite. There’s a warm feeling in his chest at the realization that you’ve remembered it even after all of these years.

Your lips curve up into a sharper and wider smile, teeth glimmering like knives beneath the soft lighting of your kitchen. The glass of wine in your hands is suddenly more reminiscent of a gun being pointed at him than your choice of alcohol, and he feels as if he’s already made some egregious mistake in your eyes.

“After we give our answer, the other has to decide whether or not it was truthful. In the end, we’ll both see how many the other got right. A test to see how well we still know each other,” is all you say in response. You’re mocking him and his insistence that the two of you are still the same, but Dazai intends to prove himself right. You tilt your head to the side and then say, “The prize is to be determined by the winner. I’ll ask the first question.”

Dazai winks, a lecherous comment already on his tongue about the prize, but the withering look you give him is more than enough to make it die before he can let it loose. He pointedly takes another sip of his drink and sinks in his seat.

He thinks that this should be an easy win. You’re quite the adept liar, but you’ve always had a glaring tell. Well, he amends, it’s glaring to him, at least. Not many others would be observant enough to catch it, and even if they were, only someone with an abundance of experience with you would be able to put it together. His gaze flickers up to meet yours, wondering if your lashes flutter right before you tell a lie. It’s such a simple and subtle tell, so casual that it took Dazai a year and a half to put together, but it was hard to miss once he did.

You hum to yourself as you give off the appearance of thinking about a question, but Dazai knows you better than anyone, and he’s certain that you already have all ten prepared, so he rolls his eyes at the faux show of uncertainty.

“We both know you know what you want to ask,” he finally says. “Do us both a favor and quit with the theatrics.”

Your lip quirks up in amusement. “And here I was being gracious giving you more time to formulate whatever lies you’ll try to get away with,” you drawl, and Dazai nearly flinches.

“You know me so well,” Dazai sighs to hide how disconcerted he really is. “The question?”

You stare at him for a moment, and your lips curl up into a deceptively soft smile that almost throws Dazai off because, god, he’s missed you. And he knows you’re looking at him like this just for this specific reason because you’re a despicable bitch who knows that he’s always been easily unsettled when people show any semblance of affection toward him, but he can’t help the way he falters.

He tries to brace himself for whatever invasive question you’re about to ask regarding his reasons for leaving. Tries to prepare himself to lie cleanly because he’s sure you’re as aware of his tells as he is of yours.

Then you ask:

“Did you defect because of something Oda asked of you?”

Jesus. Right for the throat. You really don’t pull punches.

Dazai’s throat tightens at the mention of his old friend, but he’s able to keep his expression clear of the sudden pain that your question brings on. You’re watching him carefully for reactions, gaze hawklike as you study his face, and Dazai is not about to let you pinpoint any more of his tells so early in the game.

He figures that this is an easy question; you already know the answer but want to hear the confirmation from his lips, so he decides to tell the truth.

“Yes.”

“The truth,” you say, an indecipherable expression on your face. He wonders if you want to ask what Odasaku asked of him, but that’s not part of the game and Dazai has no intention of answering that.

Be on the side that saves people. If both are the same to you, become a good man.

You might laugh in his face—Dazai Osamu, the Demon Prodigy, a good man? The idea is blasphemous, and he thinks it might actually hurt him if you scoff or laugh in response to hearing that, so he keeps his mouth shut and doesn’t give away more than he has to, hoping that you don’t just straight up ask him.

You open your lips to speak, and Dazai braces himself for the prying question, but instead, you only probe, “First question?”

He wonders if your whole first question and the implications of it was just a means of trying to throw him off because now he’s fumbling trying to remember what he wanted to ask you before you hit him with it. He wouldn’t put it past you to play dirty like that—bringing up his dead friend and his last request just to unsettle him to give you the edge.

“Did we meet during my underground years after I defected?” he finally asks, and yeah, he knows the answer to this question. The missing half of his ear and waking up in the old safe house he used to hide out at with you is more than enough evidence for him to come to a definite conclusion, but he wants to hear it from you.

“Yes.”

Dazai inhales sharply and then murmurs, “That’s the truth.” And then, more loudly and far more affronted, he accuses, “I can’t believe you shot half of my ear off.”

He expects you to toss him a wink and a sharp grin, unrepentant and even finding amusement in his offense, but instead, your expression falters for the first time since he’s arrived. Something strange crosses your face; for whatever reason, his words leave you conflicted and Dazai suddenly feels even more nervous than he already was because now he can’t help but wonder what he might’ve said to you in his drunken state.

He supposes that’ll have to be another question, but first, he’s going to have to figure out how to phrase it to get a yes or no answer first, without being vague enough for it to be a waste of a question or easy for you to misconstrue.

You hum after a few moments, taking a pointed sip of your wine. Dazai watches curiously—you’re bothered still, you’re not even trying to hide it. He knows you have better control over your facial expressions than this, so he thinks maybe it’s a ploy to get him to start spiraling down a path of useless questions. Put off by his sudden inability to discern your schemes, a part of him wonders if maybe you were right because the him of four years ago would’ve seen right through you right now.

“I’m afraid it had to be done,” you sigh with faux regret, but he can tell from the way the smile on your lips doesn’t reach your eyes that you’re not into the banter. “Were you able to fulfill Oda’s request?”

Fuck. This time Dazai can’t withhold the grimace that spreads across his face. He tries to keep his voice light with a deflecting comment, “My, bella, you’re really hitting with the deep questions tonight, aren’t you?”

You raise your eyebrows, tilting your head to the side as you wait for an answer, not giving him any room to formulate a response to your question. He finally sighs and shakes his head, taking a long sip of his whiskey. He wishes he had a pack of cigarettes on him, suddenly desperately longing for the pleasant burn of the smoke against his throat; he needs the buzz badly right now.

As if you could read his mind, you shift in your seat a bit and stuff your hand into the pocket of your slacks. It takes a few seconds but you fish out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter, sliding them across the table over to him. If he wasn’t already so in his head over the question you asked, he’d make a quip over the fact that you still know him so well despite your insistence otherwise, but he only pulls out a cigarette and lights it, looking curiously down at the familiar brand.

“Since when did you start smoking these?” he asks quietly, eyes fluttering shut as he tilts his head back and takes a long drag of it. He exhales slowly and then adds, “Thought you liked the other ones, in the green box.”

“Teal,” you correct, and then frown a bit. “... Switched after you left.”

Dazai’s eyes flutter back open as his gaze focuses on you, wondering if the implication you left up in the air is something he can take at face value or if it’s just another way of trying to get him to lower his guard. But from the way you suddenly don’t meet his eyes, Dazai thinks you might be being honest: you switched because they reminded you of him.

Dazai’s chest suddenly feels heavy again.

“... No,” he finally responds to your second question. “Not yet, at least.”

“... Truth,” you say, and Dazai’s lips curl into a wry smile.

“Unfortunately.” The word slips out before he can stop it.

Your gaze flickers back up to him, curious, but Dazai doesn’t give you the chance to dwell on his comment, asking his next question: “Did I… admit anything to you that night that I wouldn’t have said while sober?”

His fingers tap rhythmically against his glass of whiskey, half-empty now; he’s anxious to hear your response.

“You did,” you confirm.

Dazai grimaces because that’s another truth, and that is not good. But just like how he doesn’t offer any context for his answers, you don’t either. He doesn’t know what he might’ve admitted or how you might’ve taken it—he’s going to have to waste another question on this topic.

“Truth,” he murmurs.

You hum and then ask, “Do you still blame yourself for what happened to him?”

“Come on,” Dazai complains sharply, tossing you a dirty look now. His jaw is tight. He wonders if you keep asking about Oda as some sort of sick revenge for him leaving, ripping open wounds that never properly healed so you can dig your fingers into them and twist around. You don’t look bothered by his outburst, waiting patiently for a response. He lets out an angry sigh, looking away and taking another long drink from his glass and another drag of his cigarette.

He voices his first lie, “No.”

You let out a puff of air, rising to your feet and making your way over to the opposite counter, you grab the bottle of whiskey and bring it back over to him, topping off his now-empty glass before pointedly holding out your hand. He passes the cigarette over to you, tilting his head back to watch you bring it to your lips—a part of him longs to lean forward, to slide his hand behind your neck and cradle your head as he brings his lips to yours, inhaling the smoke as you exhale it, dizzy off the proximity to you, high off the buzz of the nicotine, just like the two of you would do when before he left.

He refrains, if only barely.

You exhale the smoke, a small cloud billowing around you—Dazai mourns the waste—and then you pass the cigarette back over to him. Your fingers brush his as you do, and a spark shoots through his arm at the touch.

“A lie,” you finally say, looking down at him with a frown. “You shouldn’t blame yourself. There was nothing you could’ve done to save him.”

“You don’t know that,” Dazai says tightly, averting his gaze from you as you make your way back over to your seat across from him. “If I’d been faster-”

“If Mori wants someone dead, then they’ll die,” you interrupt him, a grimace on your face as you look down at your wine glass. “Trust me, Dazai, there was no saving Oda Sakunosuke.”

Dazai pauses instead of snapping again, catching the expression on your face. Haunted, as if you’re speaking from experience. He tilts his head to the side and then asks quietly, “Are you talking about your ex-partner? Itou?”

If Dazai remembers correctly, he died on a mission when you turned eighteen. You never told him the circumstances, and he never asked, but it was the first and only time you ever broke down in front of him.

The corner of your lips tightens, “Is that your next question?”

Dazai barely withholds a frustrated sigh.

“No,” he says quietly, and then asks, “Did I tell you why I couldn’t say goodbye? The real reason?”

He holds his breath now as he waits for your response. One way or another, this question is a double blade: if he did tell you why, then he’s at another disadvantage because he’s going to feel distinctly bare and vulnerable; if he didn’t tell you, he just admitted that he lied back at your office, at least partially.

After what feels like an eternity, you finally say, “Yes.”

The truth. Dazai wonders when you’re going to utter your first lie, if you will, or if you’re trying to make some sort of point by being honest with him. He voices his answer and then waits impatiently for your next question as his mind races.

He desperately wants to know how you responded to him back then. Would you have come with him had he come to you before he left? Or would you have chosen the Port Mafia? He wonders if he should ask, make it one of his remaining seven questions, but he doesn’t know if he has the guts to hear your answer, so maybe he’ll just change the subject.

“Are you enjoying yourself at the Agency?”

For the life of him, Dazai cannot figure out your angle. First, the prying questions about Oda and now asking about the Agency. He doesn’t know what he expected at the start of the game—you’ve always been unpredictable, but even more so now. He’s never had such a hard time reading you or your intentions before.

He starts to feel even more doubtful, wondering if you were right.

Maybe he doesn’t know you as well as he thinks he does anymore.

But this is an easy question, so he says the truth with little hesitation, “I am.”

Dazai swears the corners of your lips curl up into a soft smile, but it’s gone so quickly that he might’ve imagined it.

“Good,” you say quietly. “I’m glad.”

Dazai’s lips part, a warm feeling spreads through his chest at the honesty in your tone. Desperately, he wants to know what’s going on—where’s the rage and the betrayal he expected from you? The hate? Why do you seem… okay with all of this?

Irrationally, he starts to wonder if everything from the office was just a heat-of-the-moment conversation. If now that you’ve had time to sit on your thoughts, you’ve realized… realized what? That you’ve moved on from him? That you don’t care what he does anymore? That you’ve accepted that he’s no longer a part of your life? The warmth in his chest disappears, edged away by a sudden coldness and desperation because he thinks he’d rather die than go back to a life without you.

Even more irrationally, he remembers the comment you made back at the office, the admission that you’ve slept around since he left. Oh god, what if you really have moved on?

He knows his next question.

“The people you slept with—were they all one-night stands?”

He doesn’t want to know the answer unless it’s a yes.

You raise your eyebrows at the abrupt shift in his line of questioning, and then, to his absolute horror, you say, truthfully, “No.”

“What do you mean no?” he asks angrily—he thinks if he was a bird, he’d be puffing his chest out in irritation. He feels antsy suddenly, he needs to move around. He starts tapping his foot against the floor, his fingers against the glass. And again, he thinks you’re a despicable bitch because you only look amused at his question as if he’s not beside himself with righteous fury.

“It’s not your turn,” is all you respond with, and Dazai has a distinct urge to throttle you. Then you ask, “Do you feel like you belong there?”

He halts.

His fingers freeze from where they’re tapping against the glass, his foot freezes mid-motion. His lips part as he’s confronted with the very question that he’s been struggling with for two years now. He wants to yes, if only to maybe be a little spiteful, to rub in your face that he’s somewhere good and he’s somewhere where he belongs, and it’s not somewhere with you. A cruel dig to get back for the aching in his chest at the thought of you being with other people, but he knows that you’ll catch the lie, and more importantly, he doesn’t want to hurt you like that.

Maybe he has grown a bit because the Dazai of four years ago nearly killed your civilian boyfriend when he found out that you were dating someone besides him and then promptly made a show of sleeping around to try to get back at you.

So, instead, he says quite honestly, “I don’t know.”

You tilt your head to the side. “Not a yes or no answer, but I suppose it works. How curious.”

He hates your cryptic comments. Pointedly, he side-eyes you as he takes another long drag of his cigarette. Already, it’s nearly down to the nub, so he puts it out on your table, ignoring the distasteful look you give him, and then reaches for another to light as he asks: “Were you in a relationship with any of them?”

You roll your eyes at his prying, and he cannot hide the abject horror that crosses his face when you say, “Yes.”

“That better be a lie,” he complains, and when you look at him as if to ask if that’s really his guess, he makes a show of pushing out his bottom lip and looking away as he says: “I cannot believe you dated other people. Cheater.”

“We were never even dating, Daz-”

“Yes, we were,” Dazai protests instantly, entirely aghast at your words. “We absolutely were. What does that even mean? Of course, we were dating. Everybody knew it. Ask anybody. Ane-san knew. Gin-chan knew. Chuuya knew. Even Mori knew. We were so dating, you-”

“You never officially asked me to be your girlfriend, which is, unfortunately, the most fundamental step of dating,” you interrupt him, and Dazai stares at you in disbelief.

“I bought you flowers, we fucked exclusively,” Dazai complains, aggrieved. “We were definitely dating, and you definitely cheated on me because we never broke up.”

“If we were dating,” you emphasize the if very pointedly, and Dazai is distinctly put out by it, “then we broke up the day you left without saying goodbye.”

Dazai withers. He has no witty comment to return fire with, so instead, he just takes another sip of his whiskey, grateful for the combined buzz of the alcohol and the nicotine to distract him from the overwhelming guilt he feels whenever you bring up how he left you.

“Do you feel like you belong more with the Agency than you did with the Port Mafia?”

Your next question is an amendment to your previous on, and it leaves Dazai just as lost.

He wants to belong with the Agency. He does. Desperately. He wants more than anything to feel as at home and comfortable in the light as he does in the dark. He doesn’t want to question his place among them anymore, he doesn’t want to wonder if he sticks out like a sore thumb. He wants to enter the office and feel like he doesn’t have to pretend to be someone he’s not, just so he can keep his place with them. He doesn’t want to have to fear at every corner that he’s going to revert to old habits, and they’ll see him for the monster that he is: a monster that should have never left the dark crevices that he crawled out from, a monster with blood so black that it strikes fear in even the most terrible mafiosos.

“No,” he admits the insecurity that’s plagued him to the one person he feels comfortable enough with to voice it aloud. He can’t bring himself to look up at you, wondering if the admission will give you some sort of sick satisfaction, if you’ll be happy that he’s not finding a place he can be comfortable in without you. Instead, he decides to rush to ask his next question: “The one you were in a relationship with, did you love him?”

He thinks that the question came across as far more timid than he meant it to be, and his eyes slide shut as he waits for your answer.

“There were multiple I had relationships with—” Dazai scoffs, of course, there were multiple. “—...but no, I did not.”

He lets out a soft puff of air, shoulders slumping a bit in relief. But his fingers are still tense around his glass, waiting for whatever question you’re going to ask next that’s going to dig deep into open wounds, stripping him of all of his masks and armor to force him to lay himself entirely bare in front of you.

“Did you really blow up Chuuya’s car before you left?”

His eyes fly open at the sudden change of pace in your questions, noting the smirk curling at the corner of your lips and the amusement glinting in your eyes. He accepts the olive branch quickly as he gives you a sharp smile and asks: “What do you think?”

Your hand flies to your mouth to muffle a laugh, and the smile on Dazai’s lips becomes a bit softer as he watches you desperately try to get yourself under control. “You’re insane, you know that?” you finally say, still trying to bite back giggles. “He was so mad. Raged about it for weeks.”

Another question pops into Dazai’s head at the mention of Chuuya, and before he can consider whether or not he actually wants to know the answer to it, he asks: “Speaking of Chuuya, was he one of your trysts while I was gone?”

Suddenly, you are not laughing, and suddenly, Dazai regrets speaking.

“No,” he says, shaking his head. “Do not tell me-”

“He was,” you confirm.

Dazai’s glass of whiskey is empty.

He grabs the bottle and drinks right from it, miserable.

“I think I would’ve rather been stabbed through the heart,” Dazai says mournfully, and though he keeps a faux-light tone with you, his throat feels like it’s swollen, and he feels a bit sick to his stomach.

He’s always been jealous of the bond you have with Chuuya. Absurdly jealous, even. You clicked with him quickly—you clicked with both of them quickly, and maybe it was a matter of the three of you being the youngest of the Port Mafia’s uppermost echelon, but Dazai doesn’t want to attribute it solely to that—but the way you clicked with Chuuya was different from how you clicked with Dazai. Two people so completely human locked away in the dark, clinging to one another to maintain some sense of normalcy; your and his casual humanity made Dazai’s lack of it irrefutable and glaring.

Regardless of the why, he never liked how close you were with Chuuya.

Even before you were dating him—because you were dating him—a part of him had always felt sidelined whenever the three of you hung out together. Not because of either of your wrongdoings but just because it was hard for him to keep up with the two of you. He always felt a bit lost trying to, unable to follow along when the two of you would start laughing at jokes that he didn’t understand even when you explained them to him, when you would share glances with one another that spoke whole conversations he wasn’t privy to. The two of you got along in ways that Dazai would never be able to get along with anyone because there’s just something fundamentally wrong with him at his core. Chuuya, for all of his talk and fear regarding the question of his humanity, has always been so unfailingly human in ways that Dazai, to this day, cannot fathom to understand.

After you started dating him—because you were dating him—it only got worse because he’d see you with Chuuya and wonder if you were better off with someone like him instead. Dazai doesn’t know how to treat you right, clearly. He can’t even treat himself right; and Chuuya has always been the epitome of a gentleman, loathe Dazai is to admit it—Ane-san drilled that into the other boy where Mori only taught Dazai how to be cruel and unforgiving. The line between love and obsession has always been a terribly blurry one for him, and you have always wavered on either side of it—and Dazai, unfortunately, does not love healthily and obsesses so entirely that it would have most people running for the hills.

For better or for worse, you’re not most people.

In his spiral of insecurity, he doesn’t catch the way your brows furrow as you put together some puzzle pieces. “Dazai,” you say suddenly, drawing him from his thoughts abruptly. There’s an accusatory look in your eyes that he really does not like. “Were you the one that booby-trapped my fucking apartment?”

Dazai snorts.

“You bastard,” you snap at him, and Dazai can’t help but bite the palm of his hand as a means of trying to stifle his laughter. “Mori thought it was a goddamn assassination attempt. He kept me under watch for weeks because of you. I couldn’t leave the towers without half of the Black Lizards with me.”

“Sorry,” he coos, not sorry at all. Dazai, because he clearly doesn’t know when to learn his lesson, then he promptly asks, “Am I better fuck than Chuuya?”

“Jesus Christ, Dazai, get off the topic of Chuuya and my sex life, it’s clearly only upsetting you,” you snap at him instead of answering the question. Dazai wants to argue and retain some dignity; he’s not upset, but then his entire world is shattered by your next words: “I am not answering this question.”

Dazai blanches. He can feel the blood drain from his face. He’d thought this was an easy question to make him feel a bit better. What do you mean you won’t answer? Does that mean Chuuya-

No. Dazai refuses to believe it.

“No way,” he says, shaking his head. “He’s not a better fuck than me. You can’t possibly-”

“He’s not,” you finally say, and Dazai audibly lets out a sigh of relief. “But if you ever mention anything along the likes of that to him, you will never fuck me again, Dazai Osamu. Do you understand?”

Dazai is too relieved to even argue. “Yeah.”

“No more questions about my sex life,” you say firmly, and Dazai doesn’t respond, but he does agree internally because he doesn’t think his heart can handle any more scares like that. Your eyes sharpen again, and Dazai braces himself. “Were you the one to tell Mori I lied about being sick so I could skip out on the ball Mishima hosted when we were seventeen?”

Dazai’s eyes narrow right back at you and rather than answering, he shoots one of his own questions at you: “Were you the one to tell Mori I had his contact in my phone as ‘ignore’?”

You take his lack of an answer as an affirmative, correctly so. Dazai has no regrets about ratting you out to Mori because he was not about to attend Mishima’s event without you on his arm. He’d rather die.

“You bastard, do you know the lengths I went to fake being sick? I wanted one night to relax without people breathing down my neck.”

“If I had to go, you had to go,” Dazai retorts petulantly. “I was not about to suffer with only Chuuya as company. You had no reason to tell Mori about the contact name besides to be petty. I fought with Chuuya for weeks because I thought he was the one to do it.”

You choke on a laugh. “Chuuya was so mad, he had no idea what you were talking about.”

“He tied me to a pole and swung me around for three hours,” Dazai complains, but there’s a smile on his lips as you burst into laughter, unable to stifle the giggles that spill from your lips.

“I know,” you wheeze, “I got it on video. We watch it sometimes when we’re bored and can’t find a movie.”

Dazai gapes, and you laugh harder, but for the first time in four years, Dazai finally feels… at home, he feels comfortable in his own skin again. He’s back in your penthouse, he’s drinking his favorite whiskey and smoking his favorite brand of cigarettes, you’re sitting at the kitchen table with him and laughing your head off at his expense, and for a moment, Dazai feels as if nothing has changed: he feels like himself again, eighteen and entirely enamored by the sight and sound of you, and you feel like you again, all of the doubt that had begun to rise to his chest as the two of you played the questions game long gone.

He falls in love with you all over again. Harder this time. Faster. He thinks he’ll fall in love with you again and again every day for the rest of your lives, each time more than the last, no matter how impossible it might seem.

He thinks maybe it’s not that he feels like he belongs with the Port Mafia more than the Agency. He thinks that it’s you. You’re the one he feels at home with. You’re the one he’s comfortable enough to be himself with. You’re the one he belongs with, always has, and always will.

After a few moments, you finally manage to get yourself under control, still giggling a bit as you look back up at him. Your smile is softer now, eyes gentle, more genuine than the smile you gave him before asking the first question. Dazai’s breath catches because when was the last time you looked at him like this—the last time anyone has looked at him like this? A warm feeling spreads through his chest; Dazai thinks he would stay in this moment forever if given the opportunity.

“Are you happy?” you ask quietly

Dazai blinks, startled, and an odd feeling spreads through his chest once your question registers. His lips part to answer, but no words leave them; he draws back as if he’s been slapped, a bit flustered and confused because that’s the furthest thing from what he expected you to ask. He wonders if you’d asked the last three questions to lull him into a false sense of security.

“I-” he starts to say but cuts himself off. “What kind of question is that?”

He tries to deflect instead of properly answering, frowning, but you only raise your eyebrows, pointedly keeping your lips sealed to let him know that you expect an answer. He shakes his head and then sighs, bouncing the question in his head a few times before going for a cop-out: “When I’m with you? Always.”

You’re not pleased by his decision, frowning as you look away from him—he knows that’s not what you asked, not really, but you should have been clearer with your question if you wanted him to give you the answer you expected. But he doesn’t like the sudden disappointment on your face, it leaves his skin itchy and his chest longing for the soft look to return.

So he sits there, ruminating on the question. Is he happy? He should be, right? He’s saving people. He’s on the way to fulfilling Odasaku’s final request. He has a whole group of people whom he can rely on without having to fear being taken advantage of or betrayed at every corner. He’s happy.

But is he trying to convince himself of it? Why is he still trying to kill himself if he’s happy? Why is there a part of him that feels lonely no matter how surrounded he is by people? Why is it that when he’s at his lowest points, the only two people he wishes he could be with are you and Chuuya? Why does he ache for the days he’d spend dragging the two of you around Yokohama, causing trouble for Mori—the closest he’s ever felt to enjoying life?

“I don’t know,” he finally amends his answer, looking down at the bottle in front of him and the cinders of the cigarette dangling between his fingers. He lifts it to his lips again, taking one last drag of it as he tries to figure out what his last question should be.

There’s only one pressing question he has left, but he hesitates, unsure if he really wants to know your answer.

He forces it out anyway.

“Would you… would you have come with me back then?” His voice is quieter than he intended, cracks over ‘me’, and to your credit, you don’t react to the question, expression as eerily still as it was before, as if you’re considering your words.

A yes or no. It shouldn’t take this long for you to answer. Each second that passes feels like an eternity, and Dazai suddenly feels anxious, he doesn’t know why he asked this question because if the answer is no—if it’s no, then…

Finally, you let you a soft sigh, taking a sip of your wine as if to prolong his agony.

Your lashes flutter before you speak.

You lie for the first time that night.

“Yes.”

Dazai’s voice sounds far away as he says, “That’s a lie.”

“I guess you were right,” you say softly, but you sound so distant, like you’re on the opposite side of a long, empty tunnel and not sitting right in front of him. “We do still know each other decently well; you got them all right.”

Dazai doesn’t care. In fact, he would have gladly conceded a loss in this game, and he would’ve gladly admitted that maybe the two of you don’t know each other as well as you used to if it meant that he got the last question wrong because then he would’ve just given you a coy expression and asked if you’d let him get to know this new version of you too. You would’ve said yes, and he would’ve made quite the pleasurable night out of it for the two of you. Instead, he had to insist that nothing has changed, and now he has to come to terms with the fact that he was right and he had known you well enough back then to know not to ask you to leave with him because you would have chosen the Mafia over him.

He’s so lost in his thoughts that he doesn’t even notice you approaching him until you’re leaning on the table next to him, index and middle finger coming beneath his chin to tilt his face up toward you. He looks up at you through his lashes, eyes searching your face, but he only finds another blank slate that he can’t read. His breath hitches when your hand slides from his chin to cup his cheek, and he can’t help the way that he leans into your touch, eyes fluttering shut.

“I would choose you over so many things, Osamu.” You speak his given name for the first time in years, but he can hardly find any comfort in it because he knows he’s not going to like what you’re about to say. Your fingers card through the tips of his hair, brushing the dark locks behind his ear as your thumb sweeps over his cheekbone. “But not over the Port Mafia. Just like how you didn’t choose to stay for me.”

“It’s not the same,” he says, voice hoarse. “It’s-”

“It is,” you interrupt, voice deceptively gentle, and he thinks you’re entirely unfair because he can hardly focus with your touch distracting him. He’s missed it so much—he’s gone four years without it, without any type of touch that wasn’t him getting his shit kicked in by Kunikida or an enemy. “You didn’t choose to stay for me. I wouldn’t have chosen to leave for you.”

“Why?” Dazai asks tightly, and he hates that when his jaw tenses, you smooth your fingers over it, and he unclenches it immediately.

There’s a sadder look in your eye now as you give him a small smile. “You know why.”

Of course, he knows why. He feels the hatred deep in his gut as his mind draws back to Mori. Because that’s who the issue is. It’s not the Port Mafia. It’s not your friendship with Kouyou. It’s not even your friendship with Chuuya that’s the issue. It’s Mori and your undying loyalty to him. No matter how much you claim to despise him, bashing him every chance you get, sneering at him whenever he tries to treat you like his daughter, Dazai knows that when it comes down to it, you’ll always choose him. You’d throw yourself on a sword if he asked it of you, and not for the first time, Dazai wants to spit in the man’s face for making you feel as if you’re eternally indebted to him for rescuing you from that warzone so many years ago; for making you feel as if you’re nothing without the Mafia, nothing without him.

“You don’t owe him anything,” Dazai says tightly. “You have to know that by now—you don’t owe him anything.”

“I don’t want to have this conversation, Dazai,” you sigh, sounding tired. Your hand drops from his face, and Dazai longs for your touch again instantly. His fingers twitch from where they’re resting on his lap; he only barely stops himself from reaching out for you. You try to smile as you change the subject, but it hardly meets your eyes, “It’s a tie then. No prize for either of us, hm?”

Dazai is not so inclined to switch the subject. He wants to press on this now that he has the chance; he doesn’t know if he’ll ever be able to rip you out from beneath Mori’s thumb, but he needs to at least try… but you’re leaving again in the morning, and Dazai also does not want to ruin this night with you. He doesn’t know when he’ll get another.

So, instead, he matches your half-assed smile as he looks up at you and says, “I didn’t say you got them all right. You only said that I got them all right.”

You raise your eyebrows. “Did I get any wrong?” you ask, amused.

No.

“Yes.”

“Liar,” you say, but there’s a fond lilt to your tone as you let out another puff of air, the smile on your face finally reaching your eyes as you look down at him. The soft lighting of your kitchen casts a pretty glow over your face, your smile is so entrancing that Dazai thinks he could stare at it forever.

“You’re so beautiful,” he breathes out, the words slipping from his lips before he can stop them. “I’ve missed you so much.”

He’s sure he must look like a fool right now, entirely enamored by the sight of you, unable to even fathom drawing his gaze away. He wonders if you’ll protest again, call him a liar, and shift away from him.

You don’t.

The smile on your lips falls, and a wrecked expression crosses your face as your eyes search his. Your lips part to speak, and he waits with bated breath for whatever you’re about to say—he thinks that if you deny him again right now, it might completely shatter all of the walls he’d so carefully built to protect himself.

“I’ve missed you too,” you whisper as if you’re scared to speak the words out loud—and how can he blame you when the last time you dared to speak them, he hung up on you, never hearing from him again until tonight.

God, the guilt he feels whenever he thinks of you returns with a vengeance, so intense that Dazai starts to feel sick to his stomach. He can’t handle it, so he does the only thing he knows how to do to distract himself from it.

His movements are clumsy as he pushes himself up to his feet, nearly tripping over the leg of his chair, and his fingers feel clunky as he lifts them up to cup your cheeks. For a second, he fears that you might move away from him, but you don’t, so he leans in to press his lips against yours.

There’s no tenderness to his kiss. Dazai kisses you like he wants to consume you, lips sliding messily against yours, blunt nails indent crescents into your cheeks as he holds you close. Usually, he would be embarrassed by his blatant desperation and lack of finesse—he’s never been a sloppy kisser, when the two of you were younger, you would always let out pleased hums into his mouth, lashes fluttering as he worked his lips carefully against yours, tongue sliding against your own as he traces his name on it.

All of his finely honed skill is thrown out the window now as he kisses you like a man who has been starved for years. He has been starved for years—the quick fuck in your office did nothing to quell the longing he’s felt for you the past four years. He could kiss you for hours. Days, even, and it still won’t be enough. Nothing short of an eternity with you would be enough to make up for the four years he’s been deprived of you.

He lets out a low groan into your mouth as you nip at his bottom lip, hands sliding from your face down to your hips. He’d take you here. Right now. But he remembers the last time he tried to fuck you on your kitchen table, it ended with him choking on the barrel of your gun as you yelled at him for being gross (“I eat on this table, you heathen!”) and he’s not particularly in the mood to set off your temper now that he finally has you in his arms again, so it’s with much restraint that he grabs you by the hips to walk you back into your bedroom.

He can hardly concentrate as your fingers twist the hair at the nape of his neck, soft moans slipping from his lips, muffled against your mouth. It’s only sheer instinct and muscle memory that has him making his way from the kitchen and down the hall. He can’t bring himself to separate his lips from yours for even a second. And he’s a mess because he’s not coherent enough to force himself to breathe properly through his nose, so his lungs are burning and his head feels a bit light, but he doesn’t care so long as it means he can keep kissing you.

Turn left, turn right, second door from the end of the hall.

His fingers fumble for the knob of your bedroom door, pushing it open a bit too hard, considering the way he hears it slam against the wall and how you tug his hair hard in retaliation. He doesn’t care, moans a bit louder even when your nails scrape his stinging scalp, and you let out a derisive noise against his lips before biting down hard enough to draw blood.

The taste of iron makes a slow smile curl at his lips, walking you back toward the bed, and it’s only when your knees hit the edge that you finally pull away from him. “If you broke my door, you’re fixing it, Osamu.”

Dazai’s smile is lecherous. “I’m gonna break something alright,” he croons, relishing in the way you immediately roll your eyes at him. It’s all so familiar—he can almost pretend that he never left, that nothing has changed since the two of you were eighteen, dumb, reckless, and in love.

Before he can press you back against the bed, he feels your fingers drop from around his neck to his waistband, curling around his belt loops. In an instant, you’ve twisted the both of you around, and suddenly, it’s the back of Dazai’s knees pressed against the edge of the bed as you push him down onto the mattress. He hits the sheets with an ‘oof’ and a hazy smile, surrounded by the scent of you, drowning in the sight of you. He thinks he might be in heaven.

You shift on top of him, straddling his waist; Dazai’s hands instantly come to rest on your thighs, sliding up the sides to grab your ass and pull you more firmly onto him. He groans when he feels you grind down against his cock, and god, he’s already hard just from kissing you. He hears you snort above him, but Dazai doesn’t even have it in him to be embarrassed.

His lips part in a silent moan as you lean down to ghost kisses along his jaw, hands sliding up his chest. He feels you wrap your fingers around his bolo tie and tug it, you let out a sharp noise of distaste against his skin before murmuring: “I hate this ugly thing.”

He lets out a huff of laughter that quickly breaks off into a moan when your lips trail to the spot behind his ear that always makes him writhe. His fingers bite into your hips, pushing you down on him as he rocks his hips up into you—shit, he might be able to cum just from this. His cock is straining painfully against his beige pants, twitching as he grinds up against your clothed cunt. He thinks maybe if he fucks his hips upward a few more times, he might be able to push himself over the edge, but as desperate as he is to chase his release, he refuses to cum anywhere but inside of you.

Plus, he thinks he’ll be shamed to hell and back if he finishes in his pants with you hardly touching him.

“Then strip me out of it,” he gasps, lashes fluttering as your teeth graze his pulse point right above the edge of his bandages. Fuck, he’d give anything for you to bite down—riddle him with marks he can’t cover so he can flaunt them off to everyone who looks at him. Dazai knows that there are countless men and women out there who’d die to be able to be called yours, he wants them to know he’s the only one who can take that honor. “What’re you waiting for?”

You hum and then sit back on his hips—he bites his bottom lip raw as you unintentionally put even more pressure on his cock. He’s half dazed out, not realizing that your grip tightened on his bolo tie until you straight up yank it off of him, snapping the string around his neck.

“No!” he complains, watching with wide eyes and parted lips as you fling the now-broken bolo tie off to the side of your room. “Noooo, why’d you do that? I’m going to have to order a new one.”

“Boo-hoo,” you say dryly, hardly paying attention to him as your fingers curl around the hem of his vest, pulling it up over his head, snorting when he lets out a puff of irritation as his nose gets caught around the collar.

“This is so unsexy,” he protests, rubbing his nose. “Shouldn’t you be more gentle?”

“Stop wearing so many layers of clothes,” you retort, but Dazai is placated when you lean back down to kiss the corner of his lips, lashes fluttering as his eyes slide shut. He lets out a pleased hum as you kiss down his jaw, nimble fingers unbuttoning his final layer of clothing. He wishes he wore an undershirt just to watch you huff in annoyance. His breath catches as you nip at his skin and then murmur, “This better?”

“Yeah,” he breathes out, voice wavering as you get down to the last button of his shirt, sliding it off of his shoulders and easing him out of it. His body shudders as your hands slide over the bandages wrapped around his abdomen. Fuck, it’s been so long since anyone’s touched him beneath his clothes, even with the bandages still acting as a layer between the two of you, his nerves are on end, sensitive to everywhere your fingers touch.

He wonders if you’ll pull off the bandages—it’s a line that the two of you only crossed once back then, and although the idea of it has him brimming with anxiety, he longs for the feeling of your skin flush to his.

He almost feels a bit embarrassed when you sit back again to admire him as if there’s not a scar-ridden body hidden beneath the bandages. You look at him like he’s beautiful, like he’s not a monster disguised as a man, like he’s human. Dazai has always felt distinctly seen beneath your stare like you can see through all of the masks he wears and see him for him, and that has not changed over the past four years.

He’s missed the comfort of it. He has. It used to unnerve him back then, thinking someone could see him so clearly when he tried so hard and so carefully to hide himself beneath layers of impenetrable masks, but after going four years alone, with no one for him to turn to, no one he could look at and have them just know what he’s thinking…

Yosano once mentioned offhandedly that to be loved is to be seen, and Dazai thinks the only time he’s ever been seen—truly seen, down to his core, deep in his soul—is when he’s with you.

It was a very lonely four years without you.

“I thought about you every day,” Dazai tells you softly, the grip on your hips easing up as he looks up at you. “Made a list of places I wanted to bring you and then burned it because I never thought I’d get the chance to be with you again. Stared at old pictures of you all the time, couldn’t sleep without thinking about memories with you. Drank your favorite wine just so I could pretend I was tasting it off your lips.”

You bring your hand up to cup his cheek, and Dazai leans into your touch, eyes fluttering shut again. He kisses your palm, humming softly when your thumb runs along his bottom lip.

“There wasn’t a single day I went without you crossing my mind,” you admit quietly and Dazai’s breath hitches as he stares up at you, dark eyes wide and lips parted. He thinks he should say something, anything really, but it’s a lost cause. You don’t seem to mind, luckily, because you only lean down to brush your lips against his again.

This kiss is softer than the last, lips trembling against yours as your tongue dances along his inner lip. He thinks his cheeks might feel wet but he doesn’t dare acknowledge it; you don’t either, only using your thumbs to brush away the tears as they spill over his cheeks.

“Are you really leaving again in the morning?” he finally asks, and he hates that his voice cracks over the words.

You hum in agreement, still hovering over him, still running your thumbs along his cheekbone. His lashes droop shut, but he forces them back open as you speak. “I am. Bright and early. Flight leaves at six.”

His gaze flickers to the left, over to where your alarm clock is set up on your nightstand.

12:35

He looks back at you, eyes swimming with desperation.

You give him a soft, wry smile. “We should make the most of the night then, hm?”

He doesn’t waste any time on that.

His grip on your hip tightens, and in one swift motion, he flips the two of you around, elbows resting on the mattress on either side of your head as he hovers above you. Your eyes glitter as you give him a coy smile, and again, Dazai falls in love.

Then, he ruins the moment.

“Tell me how you fucked Chuuya.”

Your smile drops. “Osamu, what the fuck?”

“Tell me,” he pouts, nudging his nose against your cheek and peppering soft kisses on your cheek and down your neck. His knees drop to the bed on either side of your hips, holding up his weight as he reaches down to unbutton your slacks, sliding them off your body. A smile flickers onto his lips as his fingers graze your panties—drenched, finally, evidence that he’s not the only one so affected by this. “Tell me. Were you on top? Did he take you from behind? Was he rough? No, it’s Chuuya-”

“If you care so much about how Chuuya fucks, Osamu, how about you go fuck him yourself?” you interrupt him.

Dazai gags.

“Don’t ever say that again,” he says and then returns to his mission, fumbling with his own pants now as he tries to yank them and his briefs off, unable to hold back the relieved sigh when he finally frees his cock, unceremoniously tossing them to the floor. “Tell me.”

“Why do you care so much, hm?” you ask, reaching up to brush his hair out of his eyes. “I told you that you were better.”

You’re only trying to deflect from the question and he almost lets you succeed, partially placated, but he stays strong, leveling an unrelenting stare onto you as he waits for your answer. You sigh heavily, and he knows he’s won.

“Not rough,” you say as if Dazai hasn’t already come to that conclusion. Chuuya’s had a crush on you since the three of you were sixteen. Dazai assumed he had grown out of it, but evidently, he was wrong, considering he took the opportunity to sleep with Dazai’s girlfriend—because you were his girlfriend—the moment Dazai was out of the picture. What a little snake. Dazai needs to vandalize his apartment again. Maybe set up a few more bombs. He’s only drawn back from his mental spiral when you start talking again: “He took the lead. Wanted to see my face the whole time, make sure I was okay.”

“How gentlemanly of him,” Dazai says—he’s not bitter. He’s not.

“It was,” you agree, too genuinely.

Dazai squints at you hard.

“Don’t look at me like that,” you say. “You asked.”

“You don’t need to sound so wistful.”

“Oh, shut the fuck up, Osamu, I’m not wistful.”

“How-”

“Are we going to talk about Nakahara Chuuya all night, or are you going to fuck me?” you interrupt immediately, looking increasingly incensed. Dazai only raises his chin at you pointedly—you’re the one that slept with Chuuya. “Time is dwindling, Osamu.”

Okay.

Dazai’s gaze flickers back to the clock and then back down to you, withering a bit under your irritated stare. He sighs and leans back over you to kiss the corner of your lips, fingers curling around the hem of your panties to slide them off your legs.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs against your skin, his kisses linger against your skin now as he drags his lips down to your jaw. “The thought of him being with you…”

It makes Dazai want to do terrible things. The part of him that he locked up deep within rattles at the bars of its cage, furious and bloodthirsty. The trigger finger he’s been so careful to tame twitches with a desire he hasn’t felt in four years. The thought of anyone being with you makes Dazai sick to his stomach—Dazai is the only one who should get to see you like this, be with you like this—but the thought of Chuuya being with you is so much worse.

“You’re all I’ve ever wanted, Osamu,” you tell him quietly, fingers intertwining with his hair as he nips at your neck. “No matter how much I slept around, nothing was ever able to fill the hole losing you left. Not even Chuuya.”

Dazai exhales, shaky—the guilt returns, and so does the doubt because what right does he have sitting here being petty about what you did while he was gone when he was the one who left you behind without so much as a word? His eyes flutter shut, he spares a few more chaste kisses across your throat before lifting his face back to yours, kissing you gently.

“Let me make up for lost time then,” he says softly.

He doesn’t hesitate now, one hand dropping down to your thigh, lifting it to wrap around his waist as he presses his hips into you. His breath shudders when his cock slips against your folds, a low moan spilling from his lips. He has to reach down to angle himself properly, tip pressing against your tight hole.

The fingers of his free hands are shaky as he lifts them to cup your cheek. “Look at me,” he says, heat spreading through his abdomen when he realizes you already can hardly hold your eyes open, quick breaths escaping your lips as you try to keep yourself from cumming already. “Look at me, I want to see you.”

Your eyes flutter open, lidded and heavy as you look up at him, and Dazai thinks that maybe he could cum just from the expression on your face alone, inhaling sharply as his thumb drags across your bottom lip. He thinks maybe he should try to get ahold of himself, fearing that if he pushes inside of you now, he might cum on the spot, but his cock is aching so badly that Dazai thinks he might die if he doesn’t feel your heat around him immediately.

It takes all of his strength to keep his eyes from sliding shut as he pushes inside of you, desperate to see the way your face twists and your breath catches. Your lips tremble, chest rising and falling rapidly, he can feel your thighs tightening around his waist, and Dazai groans when your heels dig into his lower back, forcing his hips flush to you, burying his cock deep in your cunt. He chokes, grip on your thigh bruising; his abdomen tightens, and his head feels light.

No way, he thinks, gritting his teeth as he tries to hold back the waves of pleasure threatening to tear through him. He hears you let out a huff of laughter beneath him, and Dazai would shut you up with a sharp thrust of your hips, but he’s still desperately trying to regain control over himself, so he thinks that’s maybe not the best idea.

His forehead drops to rest on the pillow next to your head, lips brushing your ear as he lets out a low moan. He can’t even savor the way you let out a full-body shudder, fingers coming up to toy with the hair at the nape of his neck. Fuck, you’re so tight—Dazai can feel your walls tightening around him, spasming, his breath is shaky, and he tries to distract himself by pressing his lips to your skin, mouthing messily at your skin, sucking and nipping and counting to ten as he tries to settle down.

But it’s hard with the soft sighs you’re letting out, the way your fingers catch on his tousled hair, tugging enough to make his scalp sting. His head is so fogged that he can hardly think straight—god, he’s missed this, he hasn’t had the comfort of letting himself go like this in… since he left, really. His mind is always turning, plotting out ten, twenty, thirty steps in advance in fear of making a mistake, slipping up and letting the rest of the Agency see him for what he is, slipping up and their lives being the price just like with Odasaku. It’s only with you that’s ever comfortable enough to finally let the cogs in his brain slow and shatter, lose himself in carnal pleasures, lose himself in you; it’s been four years since he’s last had a reprieve from his own brain.

But he only lets himself slip halfway—tonight isn’t going to be about him, it’s about you. He has four years to make up for and he intends on getting a good start on it tonight.

He pants quietly as he lifts his head enough to bite your earlobe, tugging it gently before pressing his lips to your temple. “I’ve missed this,” he admits, voice raspy and clogged thick with emotion. “I’ve-”

He can hardly get the words out, and his breath catches when your hands slide from behind his head to cup his cheeks, forcing him to look at you. He thinks he must look wrecked—he can already feel the sweat beading on his forehead, and he knows his eyes are probably glazed over. You still look stunning, a soft expression on your face as you look up at him as if he’s not buried to the hilt inside of you.

Unfair, he thinks mournfully.

“What're you still holding onto, hm?” you ask, and Dazai only barely registers your words, sinking into your touch as you brush matted hair out of his eyes. He can finally bring himself to roll his hips—experimental, slow, trying to make sure he can actually move before trying to fuck you. Then you sigh softly, and he’s too out of it to try to make out the expression on your face as you say: “You work yourself so hard… always have. I’ve got you, you can let go, Dazai. C’mon.”

“No,” he hums, but his voice is strained, evidence of his struggle. “Tonight’s about my favorite girl.”

“Favorite?” you tease, lifting your shoulders off the bed to ghost a kiss against his lips that nearly has his hips stuttering—the conversation so reminiscent of one that the two of you had at seventeen it almost makes him smile.

“Only,” he amends quietly, kissing your nose, then the corner of your lips, and then nipping your jawline.

Just when he thinks he’s good to actually start picking up the pace, intent on fucking the thoughts out of you until you forget about your stupid flight in the morning, he catches a suspicious expression on your face, one that has his eyes narrowing.

“What?” he asks dubiously; your eyes are glittering in a way that he knows from experience is dangerous.

You don’t say anything, just look pointedly at your thighs, then up to his shoulders. Dazai tilts his head to the side, recognizing what you want, and after a moment’s hesitation, he slides your legs up above his shoulders, folding them to your chest, eyes nearly rolling back at the new angle. Fuck, his hips do stutter this time, breath hitching. He has to readjust again, mentally focus on not cumming on the spot, and then-

And then you say: “He had my legs like this.”

A trick.

Dazai knows it.

You’re trying to make him let go of the thin thread of self-control he still has. To give in. To let all of the gears in his brain finally fall apart for the first time in four years.

He knows it.

He falls for it anyway.

Dazai’s jaw tightens, gaze snapping down to you only to catch a goading look in your eyes, a sly smile on your lips that Dazai has every intention of fucking right off your face. He inhales sharply, one hand sliding up your body to grab your chin, blunt nails digging a bit too deeply into your cheeks.

“Yeah?” he says, voice rough.

Your lashes flutter and lips part as Dazai pointedly jerks his hips up. Your breath catches over a moan, and Dazai knows that this new angle is affecting you just as much as it is him.

“Mhm,” you agree, and just like that, the thin thread snaps.

He snaps his hips into you so hard that your bedframe bangs loudly against the wall behind it, quickly setting a steady pace, nice and deep, quick enough that you can’t even get a breath of air to your lungs before Dazai is fucking it right out of you. Already, he’s so fucked out that his mind is in shambles, one hand settling on your hip to hold you in place as he thrusts his hips into you, hitting that sweet spot with each stroke while his other hand, still cupping your face, slides down to your neck.

He doesn’t squeeze—wouldn’t dare to cut off the pretty noises spilling from your lips, moans of his names, choked gasps and cries between each rock of his hips—but the fact that you trust him, him, enough to have his fingers wrapped around your throat is always a quick way make him topple over the edge.

His eyes dart down to your chest, realizing, very unfortunately, that you haven’t taken off your button-up yet. He nearly bites down on his tongue in frustration as his hand comes down to your chest, careful to keep the pace of his hips as he hooks his fingers around the first button just to yank down, popping off half of the buttons of your expensive dress shirt and haphazardly pulling it off of you to toss it to the side before fumbling with the clip of your bra.

“Osamu,” you hiss, and Dazai revels in the way your voice wavers with each thrust, biting back moans. “That’s the second-”

You don’t get to finish your sentence. Dazai tosses your bra over with your discarded shirt and dips his head down to wrap his lips around your nipple, tongue swirling around the sensitive bud before rolling it between his teeth, and you’re gone—Dazai lets out a muffled groan around you as your back arches up into him, crying out his name, walls tightening around him as you cum on his cock.

“Oh-f-hah-fuck,” Dazai gasps as he rests his head on your collarbone, grip on your waist tightening.

He has to physically force himself to lift his head, bracing his forearm on the mattress next to your head, desperate to see the way your eyes roll back, he can already feel himself teetering over the edge—the lewd sound of skin-on-skin, the sloppiness of his cock driving in and out of your cunt, he can feel your cum dripping down his cock, smeared on his pelvis.

His hand slides behind your head, lifting it from where you have it pressed against the mattress. Beautiful—the only thought that can run through his hazy brain is of you and how perfect you are, lips swollen and bitten raw, parted as pitched moans escape them, tears spilling from the corner of your eyes as he fucks you through your orgasm and right into a second. He’s the only one that should ever get to see you like this, with your clever brain fucked right and dumb, body writhing against the bed as you cling to him.

He leans down again, trailing sloppy kisses against your neck, gasping as he starts to feel his high approaching.

“No one makes you feel like this,” he says, or maybe he begs, he’s not sure if he’s making a statement or pleading for you to tell him it’s the truth. “Tell me. T-shit-tell me.”

“No one,” you sob over another moan, and Dazai can feel your pussy fluttering around him—he wonders if he’s already fucked you into a third. Usually, it takes longer. “No one, Osamu, you’re the only one.”

And that’s the only thing he needed to hear to give him that final push. His steady pace shifts into a more erratic one, sloppy and desperate, as he chases a high that’s just out of reach. His moans are muffled against your skin, teeth scraping your collarbone, mind a jumbled mess of thoughts of you. He feels your fingers trembling as you lift them to his cheeks, pulling his face up to press your lips against his, and that’s all it takes: he lets out a wanton moan against your mouth, pressing your legs further into your chest as his hips still against your ass, finishing deep inside of you.

Spots dance in his vision, head buzzing and ears ringing; he swears his orgasm lasts an eternity, body shaking and shuddering above you, letting out breathy moans into your mouth. He can feel his cum dribbling out of you, pooling onto the sheets beneath the two of you, so much of it that you can’t even keep it all in you.

He doesn’t let his lips leave yours once—the kisses are messy and sloppy, devoid of all of the finesse that the two of you usually have, teeth nearly clashing, tongues sliding against each other’s.

It’s only when his vision finally starts to clear and his head feels less on the verge of passing out does Dazai finally trails kisses from your lips to your jaw and down your neck before he finally collapses on top of you, mind entirely gone, like he’s floating on clouds. He pants as he tries to catch his breath, eyes lidded as he absently trails kisses along your chest and collarbone. He thinks the world could be ending around the two of you, and Dazai wouldn’t even have the capacity to notice. For the first time in four years, he really, truly allows his brain to rest.

He doesn’t know how much time passes, eyes drooping shut as he lets himself be enveloped by your arms, drowning in the comfort of your scent.

He doesn’t want to know. He’s scared to look at the clock and check.

“Tonight was supposed to be about you,” Dazai finally complains, burying his face in your chest as he pouts.

You only let out a soft laugh above him. “We have the rest of our lives for that… You deserved a break, Osamu.”

The rest of our lives.

Dazai’s throat tightens, vision blurring a bit at the thought—he can only barely bring himself to respond, and the words that slip out are not what he means to say: “I never thought I’d get to be with you like this again,” he admits, voice hoarse. “I never thought-”

“I know,” you interrupt, voice quiet, a bit shaky. “... I know.”

Of course, you know.

He can’t bring himself to say anything else, so he doesn’t, sinking into your arms and allowing himself the comfort he’s deprived himself of for so long. He almost starts to drift off—and god, he can’t remember the last time he’s dozed off willingly, only able to sleep after drinking copious amounts of alcohol or taking an even more copious number of sleeping pills. It’s not until you speak again does he stir back awake from the brink of sleep.

“What did he ask of you? Oda, I mean,” you finally ask, fingers brushing through his dark hair, lulling him further to sleep.

Dazai thinks that you’re cruel, asking him while his mind is still fogged from the exhaustion following his high, and he’s still half asleep in your arms, trying to regain his bearings. The words slip out before he can think twice, forgetting his fear of you laughing at the idea of him trying to be a better man.

“He asked me to be on the side that saves people… if both are the same to me, he wanted me to be a good man.”

The words dawn on him too late; he can hardly bring himself to look up at you, scared that he’s going to find an amused expression on your face or a derisive sneer. He wouldn’t blame you, he’s thought the same about himself ever since he left the Port Mafia, doubt and self-loathing riddling him with every step he takes in the light. He waits for the scoff, he waits for the laugh, he waits for-

“... I think he would be proud of who you’ve become, Osamu. I think you’ve fulfilled his request.”

Dazai does look up at you now, feeling particularly vulnerable, still scared that he might find a mocking expression on your face but he doesn’t. Only an uncharacteristically soft expression is painted on your face as you look up at the ceiling, a genuine one—a small smile and a look in your eyes that makes his heart feel warm. You don’t notice him looking until he lets slip out:

“I’ve missed you so much,” he whispers.

(I love you, he means)

“I’ve missed you too,” you say back quietly.

(I love you too)

#dazai x reader #dazai x you #dazai smut #dazai osamu x reader #dazai osamu smut #dazai osamu x you #bsd x reader #bsd smut #bsd x you #bungo stray dogs x reader #bungo stray dogs smut #bungo stray dogs x you

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hwalovs · 1 year ago

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Days and Nights (M)

Pairing; Mike Schmidt x reader Word count; 2635 Warnings; this is pure smut, maybe a little plot. Kissing, whining, dom/sub themes, unprotected sex (wrap it you freaks), they get right to it, breeding kink? kind of?, they'reliterallyinloveshutupbro

Description; Being the day shift guard has its perks, you get to leave at midnight, you get to leave for lunch while all the fast food restaurants were still open, and you get to see the cute night shift guard before you leave.

A/N; i am feral for this man, I don't know what happened. one day i watched the movie, the next im frothing at the mouth for another white boy. this is so short i might write something longer for him.

after finding my fic reposted on wattpad, I'm going to make clear; DO NOT REPOST THIS WITHOUT ASKING OR WITHOUT PROPER CREDIT.

I will only let this pass once, as for my other fics, DO NOT REPOST THEM.

THIS IS NOT EDITED

Mike was hired two months before you, first seeing you before he started his nightly shift at the pizzeria. You were standing outside, reading through a book before looking up when you heard his car door shut. You smiled, and dropped your book back into your bag before walking over. Your car was parked further away from his, but you went out of your way to walk up to him.

From then on, you two were friends, always seeing each other after your shift and before his. You always made sure his badge was straight, and he always made sure to tell you to get home safe. Sometimes you both would stop to ask each other about your days, he talked about his sister, and you talked about your cats.

One day, he got there a little early, wanting to get in and use his time to sleep, to try and find more clues about what happened to his brother. He found you asleep at the security desk. Snoring softly, the monitors flickering in and out. He smiled, setting his stuff down besides yours before walking closer, bending down so he could see you more clearly. One of your cheeks was squished against your arm, your breathing even.

“(Y/n),” he cooed, reaching up to move a piece of your hair. You stir, slowly opening your eyes before realizing who it was in front of you. Shooting up, you rub your eyes and stutter, looking at him, and then the clock.

“I’m sorry! I didn’t even realize I fell asleep!”

He smiles, standing back up and leaning against the desk. He watched you rush around with tired eyes, collecting your stuff while rattling on how active the animatronics were.

He found you like once or twice, but never regularly. Sometimes he would find a forgotten coffee cup, and he would smile before throwing it away. It was the little things about you that he was slowly picking up on. He remembered each one, and wanted to learn more about you.

Mike knew he was in too deep when you were getting ready to leave one day, packing up the rest of your stuff and flashing him that dazzling smile you always did. It made him forget the Dream Theory book resting in his bag, or the pills that accompany it. He forgot for just a second why he was there so early, why he was itching to fall asleep at the desk in the first place.

You stand from the chair, badge catching the light, and when you sigh and roll your neck, whimpering at the tight knot, he shivers. He shouldn't, he knows that, you're his coworker, someone who endures the same nightmare he did- but he couldn’t stop the thoughts of you underneath him, whimpering as he sunk deeper inside you, stopping when his hips were flush against-

“Mike!”

Your voice felt like ice water, rattling him until he was back in reality. He shifts, hoping that his sweatshirt covers how hard he was. There was a small part of him, deep within his brain, that did hope you saw, that you’d offer to help him.

“Yeah?” He clears his throat, swallowing when his mouth waters. Smiling, you tilt your head, and he feels his stomach drop.

“Did you hear me?”

He curses himself, “yeah! Yeah.”

Your eyes narrow, “what did I say, then?”

You were teasing him. You had to be, you were smiling again, and as you walked closer, he tried to rack his brain, trying to remember what you were saying.

“Cat got your tongue?” Your voice is quiet, and you’re right in front of him. He can smell your perfume, can see the shine of your chapstick that's on your lips.

“I- uh-”

“You’re so cute,” you chuckle, and it throws him off balance. He almost falls from the whiplash you’ve given him. You usually don’t stop to talk to him like this, you usually pack up and bid your goodbyes, warning him on the animatronics movement- but with how close you were, that he could smell your perfume, he realized he didn’t care. You were here, in front of him, calling him cute.

“What?”

You lean in close this time, your breath tickling his ear.

“You heard me, Mike. Or are you lost in your thoughts again?”

Your lips press against his and it's the only thing he can think about. Your lips taste like strawberries, and your mouth tastes exactly like he thought it would. Your hands are in his hair, and his are gripping your waist tightly.

He wonders when he’ll wake up, if this is a dream. When you lightly bite his lip, he moans, and comes to the conclusion that you’re real, and you’re kissing him.

Pushing you both from the doorway, he backs you up to the desk. Kicking the chair away, he blindly reaches behind you to push away the small controllers that litter the top. He hears something crash onto the floor, but pays it no mind when you're sucking on his tongue.

His hands reach under your thighs, lifting you onto the desk, and your hands fumble at his belt, the fog that settled on his mind clears for a moment, and he pulls away.

“Here?”

You furrow your eyebrows, before smirking and leaning forwards, “you don’t want it?”

“I do- I really do-”

“Then what’s stopping you?” He tries to think, but can’t when it's only youyouyou on his mind. Flooding his senses, invading his thoughts and making him feel crazy ever since the day he met you. His jeans are tight, and he can feel the precum that's pooling in his underwear.

“Fuck,” he surges to kiss you again, reaching down to unbutton your jeans. He slides his hands into the waistband, and you use the edge of the desk to push yourself up, letting him yank the jeans off in one fluid motion, your panties going with it.

The desk was cold on your skin, but you didn’t care when Mike lifted his shirt, biting into the fabric and pushing his pants down far enough to free his cock.

In any other situation, Mike would have you in his bed, pillow under your hips while he eats you out for hours on end. He knew you would taste amazing, just like he knew your mouth would taste amazing. You were perfect to him, and that's the only thing on his mind when he was pressing into you.

Mike's cock was thick, stretching you out perfectly, a slight burn following. You didn’t stop him, though, because his eyes were locked onto where his cock was slowly sinking into you, and his hands were shaking at the warmth you brought him.

The monitors behind you continued to show the empty space of the Pizzaria, but it was at the back of both of your minds. Mike’s shirt was still caught between his teeth, his stomach smooth and perfect. He didn’t make a sound until his hips were flush against yours, and the whine he let out made you clench around him.

His eyebrows furrowed, and he finally looked up at you, pupils dilated, curly hair a mess. Reaching up, you pull the shirt from between his teeth, the fabric wet, and grab the back of his head to drag him into a kiss. His lips are hot against yours, and his tongue licks into your mouth desperately. He moans as he tastes you again, and you grab his hips, trying to pull him further.

When you pull away, you suck onto his bottom lip, looking at him through your lashes, “look at you,” you coo, “you’re so pretty, baby.”

He whines, blushing as he grinds against you. Finally finding a slow rhythm of deep thrusts. It lets you feel all of him, and lets him feel all of you. He stretched you out so well, and it almost felt like you could feel him in your stomach. He was perfect.

“You’re so warm,” he whimpers, forehead resting against yours. Pulling at your vest, you manage to throw it to the floor with his, the metal badge chiming against the linoleum. He seems to understand what you’re doing, reaching for the end of your t-shirt, pulling it up quickly. The office was cold, your nipples hardening underneath your bra. You grab at his shirt next, his arms raising so you’re able to throw the shirt to the floor. His hips falter, but he continues.

Mike begins to leave kisses down your neck, biting your bra strap to push it to the side, letting it fall down your arm. He grabs the top of your bra, yanking it down and groaning at the sight of your exposed chest.

“Fuck,” he curses, licking his lips before surging forwards, wrapping his lips around one of your nipples, tongue swirling the bud. Your head falls back against the top of the monitor, moaning loudly.

Mike pulls away, a string of saliva connects his bottom lip to your nipple, but you lift your head to move closer, licking the spit from his lip to kiss him again.

There was a heat slowly building in your gut, and you wrap an arm around Mike’s shoulders, trying to make him go harder, to go faster, but he just looks at you with a smirk.

“What is it? Huh?” He asks, his breath heavy. You whine, nails scratching at his skin.

“Mike-”

He tsks, “common, baby,” he coos, “talk to me.”

“Please- Mike please- harder, fuck me harder,” theres a heat in your cheeks, and you feel your eyes burn at the building coil in your gut.

Yet, Mike only looks at you with a growing smile, “Harder? You want me to fuck you harder, baby? But why?” He whines, “You feel so good like this.”

“Oh my god,” you moan in frustration, hand reaching in between you both to reach your clit, but his hand grabs your wrist, pinning it behind your back.

“What is it, baby?”

There's that teasing smirk again, and you can feel your eyes burn. Your orgasm was right there, yet he was slowing down, causing it to be pushed further away.

“I wanna cum, please, Mike- Please make me cum,” a sob threatens to spill from your lips, but Mike shushes you, kissing you softly. His stubble tickles your cheeks as he lays kisses onto your skin. He bites onto your neck, moaning as you clench around him again, sucking until the skin is bright red.

He grabs onto your hips, leaning back to look down at where he disappears into you, and begins thrusting harder, letting go of your wrist to allow you to grab onto his shoulders once more. Bringing a hand to his mouth, he licks the pad of his thumb before snaking it between your bodies, rubbing tight circles around your clit.

Throwing your head back, you almost cry at the hot coil in your stomach threatening to snap, and you can feel the tears that roll down your cheeks.

“Please- Please, make me cum- wanna cum so bad-” you begging, pleading, in jumbled words that Mike can barely make out. Your legs are locked around his waist, pulling him closer.

When you cum, your thighs tense around his waist, almost stopping him. Your mouth drops open, and a soft whine falls from your lips. You're clenching so tight around him, Mike almost cums himself, but bends down to bite onto your shoulder to stop himself. He refuses to cum yet, he wants to keep making you feel good. To see you fall apart around him again.

He leaves another kiss where he was biting down on you, pulling away to leave kisses across your cheeks, before finally stopping to kiss you once more. You're breathing heavily, thighs shaking from the intense orgasm.

Sliding out of you, he whines softly, pulling you from the desk so you’re standing, he only smiles at your confused face, grabbing your neck softly to pull you into another kiss, tongue licking into your mouth.

“Turn around, baby,” he sighs, holding your hips as you do. The table digs into your hips as you bend down, breasts pressing flat against the cold surface, but he tsks, grabbing your neck once more to pull you back up. His thumb was below your jaw, pressing against your pulse point just enough to feel your heart race.

He uses his other hand to press onto your lower back, making you arch, then reaching down to grab his cock once more and slide through your folds. You were so wet, cum slowly beginning to drip down your thighs. In one smooth thrust, Mike presses his hips flush against your ass, his hand still lightly gripping your neck to keep you against his chest.

“There you go,” he whimpers, pressing kisses along your shoulders. He starts to thrust again, and you have to bite your lip to stop from moaning loudly.

He felt so much deeper like this, hitting the spot inside you that had your eyes rolling back.

There was still a buzz from your orgasm, but it was quickly building into another. Your thighs were shaking, and your palms were flat on the desk, nails digging into the wood.

“M’gonna cum again-” you moan, knees almost buckling as the rapidly building heat. Mike smiles from behind you, but moves his hand from your waist again, snaking it down once more to circle his fingers around your swollen clit.

“Again? You gonna cum for me again, pretty girl?”

“Oh my god- Mike-” You’re cumming before you even realize it. Head blank except for the thought of him-

His grip on your throat tightens just slightly, and you reach up to grab his wrist. His hips falter, breathy moans filling your ears as he presses your hips harder into the desk. You knew there would be bruising, but at the moment you didn’t care. You would let Mike do anything he wanted to you, as long as he kept making those heavenly noises for you.

“You feel so fuckin’ good baby,” he slurs, “my pretty baby- you’re just perfect f’me- Perfect fuckin’ pussy too-”

“Mike, please” you whimper, arching your back more for him.

He hums, thrusting harder into you, “that's right baby-” he leans forwards to tilt your head, locking eyes with you, “say my name.”

“Mike-”

He groans, head rolling until your noses touch, “again, say it again baby- please-”

“Mike!-”

“I’m gonna cum- fuck-”

Your hand is wrapping around the grab onto him, nails dragging across his skin, “Inside me- please cum inside me- wanna feel you so bad-”

Mike’s thrusts stop, grinding against you as he spills inside of you. Uttering your name under his breath like it's the only thing he’s ever known.

You were everything he’s ever wanted. To have you clenching so tight around him, to be able to have you like this was like a dream to him. He never wanted to wake, he wanted to stay here with you forever, but as you both collected yourselves, his cum sliding down your thighs and dripping onto the floor, he knew better than that. He’s sitting in that uncomfortable chair again, watching as you slide your jeans on. You forgo your panties, reaching down to unzip his bag, smiling as you let them drop inside.

“Do you wanna go on a date?”

You laugh, and it fills the room with a brightness he knew only you could bring.

“I think we’re way past going on a date.”

“Then how about dinner? I make a mean Spaghetti and meatballs,” he smiles, and feels like his world is complete when you lean down to press a kiss to his lips, “I’d love that.”

#fnaf movie #mike schmidt x reader #mike schmidt #mike schmidt imagine #mike schmidt smut #five night at freddys movie #five nights at freddys imagine

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niefics · 6 months ago

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CRAWLING BACK 2 U — P.JS X FEM!READER

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ — SYNOPSIS : Reader & jay loose contact after a messy argument about a girl, jay comes crawling back wanting to make her feel good one last time.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ — WARNINGS : toxic (?), Fem!reader, cussing, smut with a small plot, pussy eating, dumbification ? NOT PROOF READ!!! Oh and no protection (please wear it), breading kink, slut shaming (?), pet names, slight choking, fingering, cum eating??,, wc ; 2.5k, felt extra nasty ;)))

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ — A/N : long time no see LOLLLL, I just ain’t been having inspo lmao .. also why does nb fw jay fics fr </33, reblogs are much preciated. I hope you like this fic!

Sighing harshly you broke the silence that was in jays apartment. "So who is she ?" You asked crossing your arms looking at him. He looked at you, his eyebrows scrunching. "The fuck does it matter, we aren't dating." Your head snapped back at the sudden words. You knew he wasn't yours, you two never put a label on it but it was blatantly obvious what this relationship was. Friends with benefits that was obviously becoming more.

"It fucking matters because you are fucking me, and you always somehow forget to bring condoms so jay it does fucking matter!" You spoke, you've never snapped at jay but at this moment it was serious. Jay sighed, pinching nose bridge as he said your name. "Look, we are only fuck, okay? Only time you're over is to fuck got it ? We were never more." Jay spoke, his tone cold. The fact that he said you two were never more was irritating, assuming the nights you spent with each other just cuddling and acting lovey dovey was nothing more to him was funny, knowing he was the one who started it all. "So those night we laid up under eachother doing nothing but cuddling was nothing more right? Jay I know we aren't a thing I'm not dumb, but it feels like your fucking playing in my face and I don't like that. Do you want her cause she can have you. You were nothing more then dick to me anyways. You could barely hit the spots that made come anyways." You spoke coldly, grabbing your bag and walking to his front door slipping your shoes on and walking out.

One thing you didn't like was being played, especially by someone you know you can do better with. Months went by with no more interaction you didn't care more worried about yourself. There were night where you did miss jay but at that moment you could care less.

As the rain started to get heavy outside your apartment late at night, you were settled into your bed comfortably, half asleep as your tv blasted in the background for extra noise as you slept cuddled up to your pillow. And just as you were about to hit the deepest part of your sleep cycle you heard a continuous knock from your front door sighing, you got up slip on your house shoes and walking to go look through the peephole. You were surprised to see the familiar figure of jay, someone you've cut off long ago. You tiredly unlocked the door to see him drenched. "Listen.." you tiredly rolled your eyes. "What are you here for ?" You questioned tiredly. "You.." he spoke, you laughed softly at his nonsense. "You had me once why would I let you have me again?"

He sighed, saying your name softly. "Cmon, it was a stupid argument." You rolled your eyes, shaking your head. "You wouldn't answer the question of the bitch you could've been talking to, jay im not gonna let sleep with just anyone whenever you're sleeping with me! You hardly use condoms so why the fuck would I?" You spoke scrunching you eyebrows. "I dropped contact with her, I don't have her number, she's a nobody to me now .. just please let me, make up to you." He spoke stepping closer to you.

And he you were, on your bed, half necked, your shorts you were sleeping was tossed around your room somewhere while your panties were hanging on to your leg as jay sat head deep into your legs, you legs over his shoulders as his hands kept you legs from closing on his as he sucked your clit, humming as he sucked it, the vibrations causing you to moan as your toes would curl. As little gasps and whines came out your mouth, you forgot how good he felt and why you liked jay so much. No matter how bad he would treat you would stay and when you finally left him alone you really couldn't figure out why and now you do remember, it was how good he'd pleasure you, how good he'd make you come and wouldn't stop till he was done. And when he finished he would cuddle you, cradle you, caress the skin he bruised. That's why you liked him so much, no one has ever made you feel this good.

You whined saying his name with your eyes closed, you grabbed onto your nipples giving yourself extra pleasure as he kept going. He stopped sucking your swollen puffy clit to go lower sticking his tongue out to lick your wet slit, causing to gasp making your legs open wider wanting all of him, you missed how good is tongue felt on you pussy, you missed how filling his fingers alone felt. You couldn't make yourself feel as good as Jay could. No orgasm felt as good as the one Jay gave you and you hated that, now matter if you thought about sleeping with another man, it wouldn't feel ass good as it did with jay. The after care wouldn't feel as good as with jay, it was as of tho jay ruined it all for you abs you hated it.

But here you are, a moaning, whining mess as jay licked up your slick prepping to fuck you senseless, he pulled his face away from you cunt rubbing his middle finger into your slick spitting into it giving more slick to work with as he rubbing his finger into your pussy before shoving his finger causing you to gasp at the feeling of his cold digit being inside you, he wasted no time moving it inside and out of you watching you to see how you were feeling, a shit eating grin never failed to meet your gaze as he moved his finger faster with no warning you eyebrows knitted together you tried to keep eye contact your mouth agape before you head fell back and you finally spoke. "Fuck!" You dragged your word out as you found your hand rubbing your clit trying to clinch on his finger. He chuckled.

"Trying to come already baby? Haven't even put the second one in yet. You've missed my fingers this much ?" He spoke shaking his head taking his eyes off your face to you cunt who was damn sure ready for a second finger, he added it as you quickly shut your legs.. well tried to at least. "F .. uh .. ck!" You spoke trying to let it out in a small cry coming out instead. He chucked diving back into your cunt, going back to kissing and sucking on you clit as he fucked his fingers into you, pumping them hitting that spot that made you feel funny. "Yes, jay please don't stop." You whined putting your hand in his hair pulling it, he groaned causing vibrations making you clinch on his fingers as he kept pressing on your good spot. You already felt like the knot in your stomach was about to pop.

"Shit shit shit, jay! Please .. can I come." He pulled off you letting his finger slip out rubbing you clit as he stood up. He shook his head no, humming in a disapproval. "Not right now." He spoke kissing your lips, your slick on his lips and chin, he hummed into the kiss his pants strangling his hardened dick, it twitching in his sweats. He pulled back as he untied it. "Fuck I don't have a condom." You rolled your eyes. "You never have one." He chuckled pulling his pants down, including his underwear his dick springing out with precum leaking. "I'm starting to think you like the risk of cumming in me." He pulled in to kiss you his hand finding it way on your neck. "And you like it, you clench harder Everytime I think about trying to baby trap you." You both knew it was just the feeling of good sex playing a roll in his "threats." You knew jay had a breading kink, but he never dared to fill you up, even with as much begging as you did it was always no.

"You gonna fill me up tonight, make our last time a good one ? Leave me all messy?" He grabbed you by your neck kissing you harder you knew exactly what to do to turn him on, no matter how long it's been. "Turn around, ass up." He pulled back to watch you do so, you tried to take your oversized shirt on. "No, keep it on, I want to have something to pull on." You pouted. "But you have my hair?" He chuckled shaking his head. "Who said I can't have options?" He spoke watching you turn over ass up he walked closer to the bed pulling you to the edge, he put his fingers back into you as you grabbed his dick at stroking it as he pumped his fingers into you making you moan again. You your hand back towards your face into your mouth, spitting into your hand and pulling it back to his hardened member stroking it making him moan at the feeling of the mixture of spit and precum together. "Enough, move you hand." He spoke as you let go and he positioned himself slowing pushing himself in.

A gasp came out your mouth, you nearly forgot how painfully big his dick was, especially when he decided not go missionary, whining at the pain. "Ahh take it, I know you can ?" He spoke as you ran a little from it pushing your ass back down a little as he went down more and more finally hitting the base he gave you time to breath and get used to it. He was a monster after all.

He pulled back, as he started thrusting into you, your eyebrows knitted together as you let him fuck himself into you you lip bitten as you took it, getting used to his dick again you started to moan more freely, he grabbed your shirt, pulling on it as he started pounding into you as you moaned and whined his name like he liked it. "Wait- fuck! Y/n is this my shirt?" He spoke pounding into you, it was so dumb of him to even try to keep a conversation with you especially in this position, you can never keep up a conversation in the position, he just felt so much deeper when your ass was up like this, you came the most in the position, made you biggest messes in the position. You hummed. "You know I .. fucking hate you not using your words!" He spoke pounding harder. You tried to speak. "Yes! I kept it- fuck! Fells s'good." You moaned. "Your dumb for my dick aren't you? Haven't even been long and here you are all whiny and creamy already on my dick." He groaned.

"And I bet you'd love to feel me feel you up to the brim too." He spoke going faster, your mouth fell agape as you felt so good. "Fuck yes!" You moaned. "So dumb for my cock huh baby? My little cock slut, not even your own fingers can make you feel this good huh?" You clenched on his dick you felt so close yet so far. "Let me here you say it?" He spoke slapping your ass. "Ah! Fuck.. you can only make feel this good jay!" He chuckled pulling on you hair and bring you closer. "Mhm, that's right my dumb slut, nobody can make you feel as good as jay can." His hand snaked around your neck softly squeezing your neck you felt yourself go dumb, you knew you were about to come whining.

"Please please please." You repeated in a whisper. "Please what?" He asked groaning in your ear. "Please let me come." Jay twitched hearing that, kissing your jaw as he felt you clench again. "I'm so, so close please!" He liked when you begged, he liked to see you a mess in general he couldn't help that. "Come baby, make a mess on my dick." He spoke letting you fall back on your knees slapping your ass as he kept going as just like that you whined cleaning on jay so hard he could've popped out. "Fuck." Jay spoke as your orgasm hit you, you started shivering as he kept going, jay kept thrusting, a ring forming around his dick he began to get sloppy, he went down toward you ear once you slightly calmed down from your orgasm. "Gonna let me fill you up? One good time." You nodded frantically, shaking still "god yes!" He chuckled as he kept going as you started moving your hips too.

"Flip over I need to see your face." And you did so, he took your legs and put one over his shoulder as the other was in his hand as he kept going. You rested your body on your elbows as you let him fuck you. You watched him go in and out of you as you met his eyes, your head falling back as you felt like you could come again just by his gaze you never wanted this to end. His thrust for so sloppy it’s was obvious he was about to come, slammed into you a few times as you came again, he did so groaning so loud, going faster. “Fuck yesss” he hummed as a mixture of both of your comes mixed together. “If you were my girlfriend I swear to god I would do this to you every night.” You were to high to even care about the stupid shit he just said. Feeling him pull out.

He fell back to his knees, as he starting to eating you out, pulling you back towards him as you whined as you made you feel good all over again, slurping up at your juices his nose hit your sensitive clit you cried out, you hand found a way to his messy hair again your thighs were definitely full at this point, you knew you were gonna have another orgasm, as he fucked his tongue into you, you cried. You were sure you loved him.

You vision became blurry as you trembled as your last and final orgasm hit. “God!” You moaned, legs shaky and your grasp on his head tighter then ever. He slurped it up one last time getting after and kissing you, you tired body wrapped your arms around him pulling him in as you made out. The taste of both of you in his and your mouth.

He cleaned you two up, as you sat in a cleaned bed, you leg wrapped over his legs as your arm was over his chest as you sat in silence as he caressed your leg. Nights like this is what you cherished, you did want to do it. But you knew it was needed.. this was the last time you saw him for sure. Or at least that’s what you wanted you woke up to him coming back with a plan B and breakfast giving you a soft kiss. And once again you crawled back to him.

#enhypen smut #kpop smut #enhypen x you #jay x reader #jay smut #jayangst #jay x you #jay fanfic #jay enhypen #jay park smut #enhypen fanfiction #enhypen angst #jay ff #jay angst #jay hard hours #enhypen jay #jay park

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lunaviee · 7 months ago

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ushijima headcanons bc bro needs more appreciation 🤗🤗💗💗💗💗 (and bc im rewatching haikyuu and im actually going INSANE.)

i feel like he kinda gained a habit of reaching for your hand a lot. idk why but he’ll stare at it for a minute and then just grab it wordlessly

1000% the kind of guy to get you “just because” flowers. i think he’ll see them at a local market and then make it his life’s mission to make you a pretty bouquet

he’s actually really good at cooking. he enjoys it, especially when he sees the glow in your eyes when you try his food

enjoys taking the scenic route when you guys take a drive somewhere. not only does he find the landscape beautiful, but it gives him more time to talk or even just be in your presence

speaking of driving, he definitely does that move where he puts his hand on your headrest when he’s backing out🤗🙏

i feel like he can read you really well. like if you’re uncomfortable somewhere or maybe just not feeling well, he tries to get you out of that situation

actually kinda going back to the hand thing, he rlly likes your touch. it’s so warm against his skin and he feels so at ease with you around

i feel like he’s very academically smart, his grades are impeccable and he’s always helping you in your classes. but social/street smarts? yeah umm not so much. it takes a little while to adjust at the beginning of your relationship but you soon find how well of a match you are for each other

back to the “reads you well” part, he also remembers everything about you. your order at your local coffee shop, why you don’t like certain foods, and will never forget a special date

he also likes spending money on you, insisting you buy that new shade of lip tint even if it looks just like the one at home, because with him around, you shouldn’t have to worry about a single penny

this one’s kinda silly but i just KNOW he’s the type of mf to bring in all the groceries in one trip

always sends you “good morning” and “goodnight” texts. but since it’s ushijima, it’s kinda like “goodnight, sleep well❤️” a little basic but trust me, he’s much better at showing his love in person

speaking of, his love language is definitely acts of service and probably quality time. whatever he can do to make your day a little better, he’ll do it

he takes such good candid pictures of you it’s actually insane. you genuinely don’t know how he even takes these without you noticing but somehow they’re always amazing

also, he doesn’t like deleting pictures of you. something about it doesn’t feel right to him so he’ll have a handful of pics that have your face all blurry or cropped out, but it’s still you so why should he delete it??

pls i just know his embrace is so secure and warm….. like you’ll ask for a hug and even if he doesn’t always understand how of why his physical touch makes you feel so special but he never declines

i know this is cliche, but he’s obviously strong af so picking you up is no problem and he’ll often do it if you get tired of walking. he also insists you sit on his back while he does pushups. his words not mine🤞🤞

cat lover. like one day you two went to a pet store to buy some treats for moms dog and he makes eye contact with a gray cat.

you guys forgot about the treats and ended up buying a bunch of cat stuff

✮ — haikyuu might bring back my motivation to write….

#haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #ushijima x reader #wakatoshi x reader #ushijima wakatoshi x reader #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu!! x reader #haikyuu headcanons #ushijima fluff

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tojipie · 18 days ago

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Off of your realistic headcanons, specifically the one with his wife, do you think he could ever fall inlove with reader? Genuinely. How patient would the reader be? Maybe he’d just end up running away again, but still.

read this first !

(im no gege :p take this with a grain of salt, all headcannons!)

honestly? I do think toji would have the capacity to fall in love again after his wife. losing any loved one is hard but what needs to be pointed out first and foremost is that when toji lost his wife he lost the genesis of what was essentially his chosen family. that's got to be an unimaginable obstacle to overcome.

we all know that his heavenly restriction robbed him of the familial love most children get from their families. knowing the zenins, that "love" was entirely transactional and based on what toji could contribute to the family as a sorcerer.

to go your whole life being told your mere existence is a fluke, and then waking up one day and realizing you not only have a wife but a beautiful son that love you unconditionally despite your perceived "flaws" would had been something he never though possible.

so to have your wife taken from this earth as a young adult, leaving you to raise your infant son alone after you thought your life was set is something that will stick with you forever. I do think toji would move on, but I don't think it'd be linear.

he'd probably spend the first few years dedicating himself to his work rather than a relationship. he'd probably graduate to couch surfing next, never staying with any women for longer than a month or two. then, when enough time had passed, he'd maybe pursue a couple relationships relationships that last a year or so.

and then reader comes along, and there's a constant uneasiness in the pit of his stomach that he can't quite get over.

toji doesn't know how he feels about you. he likes sleeping on your couch, sometimes your bed if he's good. he likes the meals you cook him and the shows you two watch together. he likes the feeling of your hand down his pants and your lips on his. y'know since we're being honest.

he's worrying himself sick wondering what it is you're doing to him. is it a curse? are you slowly poisoning him? eventually he figures maybe he just doesn't like you as much as he thought. and that's fine. he went years swearing off women after the death of his wife, and he has no problem dodging another for the sake of putting his money first.

but then he's in your living room nursing a beer, feeling your soft hands caress his face as you come up behind him and press a kiss to the back of his head. and he cries. he cries big, fat, hot tears that he wipes away with the sleeve of his carharrt jacket after you've gone to bed because for once in his life he sees a glimpse of the life that he once had, and he wants that life back so bad.

toji doesn't come back for a while. he buys a burner phone and skips town, working odd jobs for shiu until he figures out what the fuck he wants to do with the handful of decades he has left. he doesn't frequent any bars, doesn't warm anyones bed. he just exists. he exists like he did those couple of years after his wife passed, and he realizes that he's never been so miserable.

toji can't live without you. and he felt guilty for so long admitting that to himself, but it's the truth. you are everything he loves about the world and more. they say men never forget their first love, and that may be true. but when he imagines a life worth living he can only imagine waking up to your face in his neck each morning.

admittedly you're upset when he shows up at your doorstep 2 weeks later, sheepishly rattling off an explanation that sounds like its going in 5 different directions. you get things sorted out after a long uncomfortable talk. you knew what you were getting into when you got involved with the man, you get it for the most part. which he's surprised to hear. you end the night passed out on top of each other after demolishing 2 large pizzas and 3 horror movies, happy to finally be where you both belong.

˚ ✧ ──────

#adah’s asks #toji x reader #adah thoughts #fushiguro toji #toji #jujutsu kaisen #fushiguro #zenin toji #toji headcannon #toji headcannons #toji headcanons #toji zenin #jjk toji #jujutsu kaisen toji #toji fluff #toji drabbles #toji fushiguro

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doitforbangchan · 3 months ago

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La petit mort - K.S

Pairing: Non-idol!Seungmin x reader

Warnings: Afab/fem reader, smut, death. im keeping this vague for the mystery aspect- read at your own risk. Not proofread :)

WC: 4.9k

Happy Halloween yall 🎃 masterlist

“Have you seen the news?”

“I heard they found the body in the river.”

“The cops are saying there's a serial killer on the loose.”

“Another victim was found behind a dumpster all mangled.”

“Each one is more violent and gory than the rest.”

Everywhere you turned someone was talking about the recent string of murders in your area. For weeks all anyone could talk about was this supposed ‘serial killer’, and after a fifth body was found last night the mania has only increased. Even here at work it was inescapable. The scariest part though, was that you recognized a few of the victims. Not very personally, but you had mingled with them and even flirted with one. And now they were dead.

“Hey y/n?”

You jumped as your thoughts were broken and your eyes tore away from your computer screen. Behind you leaning against the opening of your cubicle was your coworker and newly made friend Seungmin.

“Seung, you scared me!” You scrunched your face at him, then flipped him off when he laughs.

He brought his hands up and wiggled his fingers at you, “Scared I’m gonna get you like that killer? Ooooo better watch out!”

You rolled your eyes, “You know, each victim so far has been a man so I think you’re the one who better watch out or you're gonna be next.” You teased him with a giggle.

Seungmin had started working for your company a few months ago, first as a temp then he was hired on as a full company employee. You were both fast friends since you both liked to poke fun. What had started as him teasing you about the Kuromi calendar on your cubicle wall turned into a wonderful friendship and dare you say- a flirtationship.

“As if.” He scoffed. “I’m not stupid enough to get caught by someone like that.”

You hummed, “Hm, could’a fooled me.” He scowled at you, causing you to laugh.

“Well I was gonna invite you to a show tonight, but if you’re gonna be an ass then forget it.”

“A show? Who’s playing?” You inquired, your interest now peaked.

Seungmins lips curled into a sinister smirk, “No one important.. Just 3Racha.”

“No way!” You shot out of your seat in excitement. The shit eating grin on his face told you he was serious. “Ahh Seung!” You launched yourself at him and wrapped your arms around his shoulders. You had told him many times how much you loved the group and would love to see them live.

“I don’t know why you’re getting so excited, I revoked my invitation, remember?” His tone was light but still sassy as he jested and hugged you back.

“Nope! You put it out into the universe, you can’t take it back!” You squealed and hugged him tighter, then remembered you were still at work and had to act in a more professional manner. You released him quickly and took a step back, your face flush with embarrassment as you cleared your throat. “I mean, it sounds like a good time.”

Seungmin chuckled at your cute change of attitude. “They’re playing at that new venue across town, the small one with the bar. S’ not much but I figured you’d wanna go.” He shrugged in nonchalance. “I can uh, pick you up if you want.”

You nodded enthusiastically, a bright smile on your face. “That would be great!”

“Awesome.” He rubbed the back of his neck as if he was suddenly feeling sheepish, a faint pink creeping up his ears. “It’s a date then.”

The rest of the work day went by so slowly, the hours passing by at a snail's pace making you want to pull your hair out. You weren’t just excited for the concert but to go out with Seungmin. On a date. A real date. So far you had only hung out as friends, usually with at least another person from your friend group so this was a brand new experience. And you were beyond nervous and excited.

You had worked out the details together before you had gone home to change, deciding you would get there a few minutes early to get a drink or two before it started. After getting home you took a quick shower, then put on a pair of black ripped jeans that hugged your ass just right and a maroon colored corset crop top. Adding a red lip and a smokey eye to complete the look. You hoped Seungmin would like it, you really wanted to impress him tonight.

At exactly 8:00 there was a knock at your door. You slipped on your sneakers and opened the door. Seungmin was leaning after your doorframe with his hands in his pockets and a grin on his face. He was wearing a black t-shirt and dark wash jeans and boots, looking both comfortable and stylish at the same time. And so so hot.

His eyes raked over your form, making you mildly self conscious. “What are you looking at?” You said playfully to get his attention off your body.

His eyes snapped to yours, then they rolled at you, “God forbid I appreciate the outfit you clearly put some effort into. You look great, by the way.. For a gremlin.”

You smacked his arm making him laugh, then you lightly shoved him away so you could lock your door. “Says the troll.”

He leads you down to his car and even opens the door for you, making you secretly swoon. The drive over to the venue was nice, he played songs from 3Rachas latest album getting you both pumped for the performance.

The venue was small, more like a hole in the wall club with a stage in it, but it had a tiny outside area with a fire pit. Luckily it wasn’t that packed yet and the two of you were able to get to the bar pretty quickly. Seungmin paid for your drink no matter how much you had insisted since he had gotten your ticket.

As Seungmin was talking to the bartender about what drinks you wanted you felt a body come up next to you and lean on the bar. “Hey there, gorgeous. Can I buy you a drink?”

You looked over to see a decently good looking guy, giving you a flirty look. You shook your head with a polite smile, “No thank yo-”

“Her boyfriend already bought her one.” Seungmins voice was a borderline growl from behind you. Your head swiveled around to see him glaring at the guy. “Get fucking lost.”

“Seung..” You said quietly.

The man put his hands up in defense, “My bad bro, didn’t know. Just trying to shoot my shot.”

“Well shoot your shot on someone else.” Seungmin handed you your drink then led you away from the bar and towards the stage area.

“What was that?” You asked in a hushed tone. “Why did you get so hostile?”

“That guy is a fucking creep, he looked at you like you were a piece of meat.” He sneered, “You don’t need that shit.” He seemed to sense how his change in temperament made you nervous so he dialed it down. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be so possessive. I just didn’t like his vibe, it was gross.”

You placed a hand on his shoulder and leaned into him slightly, “I wasn’t expecting it, is all. And I definitely didn’t expect you to say my boyfriend bought me a drink.”

He was lucky it was dark or you would have seen how flushed he became. “I uh -well I mean- uhh.” You had never seen him so tongue tied and it was both alarming and adorable at the same time.

With a coo you reached up and pinched his cheek. “Aw Seung, it’s ok no need to get flustered, you can be my boyfriend if you want too. ” Seung swatted your hand away and scowled at you slightly. “No I’m serious, I do really like you and would love to have you as my boyfriend, Minnie.”

He broke into a giddy grin. “I mean, since you're practically begging I guess I could be your boyfriend.” You rolled your eyes and reached up and gave his arm a swift pinch. “Ow! I see how it is, you weasel your way into my life then you abuse me? That’s just cruel.” Seungmin couldn’t help but break character at the end and let out a laugh, then pulled you into his arms.

You hugged him in return. Just as you were about to lean up and kiss him the lights in the room dimmed and the stage lights turned on. You spun around quickly to see the group run on stage. You let out a squeal and grabbed Seungmins hand. This was going to be a night you would never forget!

It was a little over an hour into the show now. You were dancing and singing along to each song, the drink in your system making you feel extra good. Seung had been beside you bopping along and laughing at your joyful antics.

“Hey, I’m gonna run to the bathroom real quick.” He leaned in and spoke in your ear. You nodded, giving him a thumbs up. “Do not go anywhere, stay right here please.” He added, his eyes giving you a serious stare.

“I promise I’ll stay right here.” You kissed his cheek then looked back at the stage. He gave you a pleased smile and left you to your devices.

It was about 15 minutes later that he returned to you. “Sorry, those lines are long. Did I miss anything good?”

“Duh it’s all good!” You giggled, wrapping your arms around his neck as a slower beat started to play. “But you made it back for my favorite song, sooo I can’t be upset.” He placed his hands on your hips, pulling your body flush against him. Being this close you could see a slight sheen of sweat on his forehead, “are you alright, Min? You look a little.. Off.”

He shook his head, dismissing your concerns. “Yeah I’m good, s’ just hot in here, there's a lot of people in here.”

You nodded in understanding. “Well I hope you’re not too hot for a dance?”

He smirked down at you, “For you? Never too hot.”

He suddenly twirled you around, making you giggle then he pulled you back into him, his hand in yours. No one else around you was dancing like this, they were all jumping around or being crazy, and it made it feel extra romantic- that it was like the two of you were in your own little world.

You both swayed together as you looked up at him taking note of all his handsome features. With a bated breath, giving him time to pull away if he wanted, you leaned up slowly and gave him a chaste kiss to his lips.

With a deep flush to your face you gave him a shy smile. Before you could say anything he grabbed your face and pulled you into a deep kiss. You let out a gasp of surprise then melted into him, letting him run his tongue along your bottom lip.

You put your hand on his chest as you tasted his mouth, the light lingering taste of his beer making this even sweeter. Now you were certain that tonight was special. You hadn’t had this much fun or been this enamored in a very long time. It was perfect.

A loud blood curdling scream brought you out of your dreamlike state, making you quickly jump away from Seungmin.

“THERE’S A BODY IN THE ALLEYWAY”

“HELP! HE’S DEAD OH MY GOD HE’S DEAD!”

Someone screamed, causing a massive panic to spread over the crowd. Seungmin grabbed your hand before you could even react, yanking you towards the exit. “Time to go.” He said while maneuvering you both around the clusters of people.

You could hear another person yell out, “SOMEONE CALL THE POLICE!”

“What the fuck is going on?” You questioned as you went out the exit, your eyes were wild as they flickered to Seungmin in terror.

“I don’t know, but we’re not sticking around to find out.” He answered, remaining steadfast on getting you both the fuck out of there.

“Seung..” You clung to him as you entered the parking lot. You could faintly hear the sound of approaching sirens, as someone must have immediately called the police. “I’m scared.” You couldn’t hide the tremble in your voice, “What- what if it’s that serial killer? Oh my god, what if they were there with us?”

“Y/n, I would never let anything happen to you. I will always protect you.” There was no amusement in his voice as he spoke to you, leading you to the car and opening your door. He leaned in and buckled your shaking form, then rested a hand on your face again making you look at him. “Hey, I’m serious. I will keep you safe. Do you trust me?”

With a shaky breath you nodded, “Yes, I trust you.”

“Good. Now let me keep you safe by getting the fuck out of here.”

He climbed into the driver's seat, starting the car and swiftly driving away. Seungmin offered to drive you home but you really did not want to go back there alone and his house was closer. He took you to his place, keeping an arm wrapped around you the whole time as he unlocked his door until it was closed and locked again.

His house was small, and looking around it was very clean. Borderline too clean. As if it was barely even lived in. Odd, but maybe he just liked his place to be really tidy.

Seungmin led you to the couch, sitting you down. “I’ll grab you some water, help you sober up a little bit.”

You nodded and leaned back into the cushions. A minute later he returned with a glass for you. You accepted it with a quiet thank you, taking a much needed sip. It was then that you looked at the clock on the wall and noticed how late it had gotten.

“Oh shit I didn’t realize it was already almost midnight. I should call an uber or something to take me home.” You took out your phone but it was lowered by Seungs hand.

“You can stay here if you want. It’s already really late and after everything that happened I don’t think I’d trust a rando to take you home.”

Thinking about it you came to the conclusion that he was right and you also did not want to spend your night alone. “Ok, only if you don’t mind.”

“Of course I don’t mind. You’re my girlfriend now after all, you can stay whenever you want.” He smiled warmly then offered you his hand. “Come on, I’ll get you some pjs.”

His room was a little messier, with his bed not neatly made and a few plants by the window. Seungmin opened his dresser and grabbed some sweats and a baggy shirt, handing them to you. You thanked him and without even thinking about you began stripping. Or maybe you thought about it a little bit, glancing at him when you pulled down your pants to see him gulp then awkwardly avert his eyes.

After you were dressed in the pjs you threw yourself at his bed, then opened your arms as an invitation for him to join you. He threw his own sweats on and took off his shirt, giving you a quick view of his broad chest.

Ever since you had met him you had thought Seungmin was cute- sexy even- to an extreme degree. But seeing him tonight revved that up to a hundred. The way he had gotten you out of danger and brought you to safety, how he had stayed calm and collected during the chaos.. He was like your knight in shining armor, and you wanted to thank him personally.

Seungmin climbed in with a snicker after turning off the light, letting you wrap around him before he pulled the blankets over both your forms. After adjusting to have you resting upon his chest he let out a deep sigh of content.

“Are you alright, Seung?” You whispered into the darkness after hearing his sigh. You let your hand rest atop his chest, running softly along his skin.

“More than alright, babe.” He answered then kissed the top of your head. “What about you? That shit was pretty traumatic.”

You nodded, “Yeah, m’ alright. Happy to be here with you.” You then poked him in the chest, “Don’t let it get to your head though!”

His chest rumbled from his deep chuckles at your antics, “Never.” The hand you had on him very slowly moved down to his stomach, tracing the light trail of hair and making his breath lighty hitch. “What are you up to, little devil?”

“Nothin,” your answer was coy as you continued to lower your hand, “Just wanted to.. Thank you for keeping me safe tonight.”

“Oh yeah?” The smirk on his lips was incredibly clear in his voice. One of his own hands came up to pet along the side of your thigh. “Thank me how?”

Finally you made your way to the front of his sweats, feeling his bulge that was steadily growing under your touch. You kissed his neck tenderly as you palmed him, his whine and buck of his hips giving you the confirmation you needed that he wanted you to touch him just as much as you wanted to give it to him.

“Nnngh, so that’s how. Alright sweetheart, you can thank me in any way you want.” He groaned slightly, the husk in his voice causing a flood in your own underwear.

With tentative movements you pulled the band of his sweats down his thighs until his member was released. The man let out a slight hiss when your hand made contact with his now bare skin. From what you could tell by feeling alone he was big. Big enough that you couldn’t even fully wrap your fingers around him. You briefly wondered if that would even fit inside of you.

“That’a girl. Go ahead and rub the tip fo’ me.” You did as he requested, your thumb running over the slit on his tip and collecting the precum that was beginning to leak out and using it as lubricant on his dick. “Fuck, that’s it baby.”

Seungmins fingers traveled from your thigh to your own covered center, giving you a quick circle motion over the bottoms then diving his hand into them, finding your now drenched core. “Mm, Seung.” You whined when his fingers expertly found your clit.

“Jesus christ you're so wet. What made you so sopping, honey? You like using your hand to get me off, hmm?” He had a bite to his voice that was both teasing and dominating that made you flood even further. As if he could feel it he commented, “ Fuck you do like it don’t you? Bet you like my own fingers buried in your sweet cunt too huh?” Then he shoved two long digits into you, making your hips buck into him and a wanton moan escaped you.

With a rapid nod you clenched down on his fingers, “Uh huh, so good Seung.”

“I know love, I know. But you know what would feel even better?”

“Hmm?”

“Let me put my cock in you instead of my fingers.”

You clenched down on him again at the suggestion, “Yes please. Want it.” As soon as the words left your lips you were suddenly thrown onto your back with your head bouncing off his pillow, a gasp of surprise leaving your lips. The sheets were torn off of the both of you and your bottoms were yanked down and off your legs as well, until your lower half was completely bared to him.

He climbed on top of you and crashed his mouth against yours, his teeth nipping at your bottom lip making you squeal from the small burst of pain. You could feel him lineup his member with your hole, his tip going to push into you slowly.

Your back arched at the intrusion. You were right, he was big. So big that you could feel your walls squeezing the life out of him as he stretched you out. “Seuunnggmiiinn oh my gooooood.” You cried into his neck as he fully seated himself inside of you.

“Fuck babe, you’re so fucking tight, you might just squeeze my dick off if you don’t relax.” Seungmin groaned, the bliss clearly overtaking him as he tried not to move too much and let you adjust. After a few moments you started to get used to his size within you and began to relax a little. “There we go, sweet thing. Imma move now, alright?”

“Mmhmm.”

With your go ahead he slowly started thrusting into you. You could feel each drag of his thickness against your walls, the sensation making you throw your head back in pleasure, your eyes half open and watery. Holding himself up with one arm he used the other to rub harsh figure eights on your sensitive nub that resides between you.

“God your so fucking beautiful.” He moaned, “Can’t believe I have the most perfect woman in my bed and that you're all mine.” He picked up his thrusts, the sound of skin slapping together filling the room. “M’ never letting you go. Not now that I have you. Never.”

His words should have been alarming and at any other time they would have made you question what he meant- but your brain was turning to mush due to the intense amount of pleasure he was giving you. You could barely remember your own name nevermind the nonsense he was spewing.

You could feel the dam within you about to break, your high about to crash over you. “S-seungminnie, I’m gonna- gonna cum.”

“Do it. Cum all over my cock, baby. Give it to me now.”

With a scream you came, the band snapping and giving way to euphoria, his name a jumbled mess as you clung to him and shook. “Min- Seung- minnie oh my god, nnghhh.”

“Mmmm, good girl, feels so fucking good. Gonna cum, gonna fill you up and make you mine. Gonna pump you full.” He practically growled and put his face into your neck, sucking harsh dark marks onto your skin as a show of ownership. There was a sudden hotness that shot inside of you, coating your insides with his white essence. It was a good thing you were on birth control or you were sure that you would have gotten pregnant.

Seungmin trembled as he finished giving you his load, his arms threatening to give out as he lowered his body to rest atop you. The sweaty man laid gentle kisses on your now marred skin, the softness being a great comfort for you.

After a few moments he rolled off of you, curling you up into his side. You were so exhausted that as soon as he had exited you you had begun to drift off into a deep slumber, nuzzling into him until darkness took you.

You were awoken by the sun shining through the windows the next morning. Blearily opening your eyes you looked around your surroundings, seeing you were still in Seungmins bed and you were still very naked. A heat rushed to your face when you remembered what you had done last night, a giddiness filling you. The man was beside you, snoring quietly as he kept sleeping.

As much as you wanted to cuddle him and go back to sleep you could feel the remnants of your naughty activities coating your lower region. With a sigh you swung your legs over the edge, grabbing the fallen sweats and slipping them on. You noticed your phone on the nightstand and grabbed it on your way to the bathroom. You decided to go out into the hall bathroom as to not wake up Seungmin.

While you were doing your business you opened your social media. As you were scrolling you came upon the news report for what happened at the venue last night. Curiosity got the better of you so you clicked on the link.

Immediate shock filled you as you read the article. There was a picture of the victim from last night, and a deep chill rocked you when you saw that it was the man who offered to buy you a drink that had been murdered. According to the report his face was bashed in against a brick wall until his head had become mush.

You were so engrossed and mortified by the article that when you left the bathroom you hadn’t noticed you opened the wrong door, and instead of going back into Seungmins room you found yourself in an entirely different room.

A gasp of horror left you when you took in the contents of the new room. Along the walls were pictures of men- not just any men but all of the victims of the serial killer. Next to their face pictures were cut outs from news articles about their murders and graphic photographs of the crime.

What the actual fuck is this? Why would he have all this?

Your eyes scanned the contents, seeing laid out maps of homes and locations. There was a deafening beating within your chest as your brain ran a million miles a second, trying to figure out just what you were seeing. With shaking legs you backed out of the dark room, not realizing you were no longer alone until your back met a sturdy chest.

You spun around to find his hard stare, your own eyes wide with fright.

“You weren’t supposed to find this.” Seungmin spoke lowly, a sternness in his tone that sent shivers down your spine.

“S-seungmin, I-i don't understand, what is all of this?” You tried to back away from him but he grabbed you by your arms before you could, his fingers digging roughly into you making you wince. “Ow, Seungmin let me go.”

“I can’t. Don’t you see I can’t let you go? Not now when I have you. After everything I did for you, I can never let you go.”

Pure fright was the only thing that filled you as you came to realize exactly what he meant.

“Seungmin.. What did you do?”

His face never changed as he yanked you to him forcefully, his nails threatening to leave bloody crescents from how hard he gripped you. You tried to swing your arms to get him off of you but he was too strong, pinning your arms down and shoving you vehemently down the hall until he reached another room you had never been.

Seungmin swiftly opened the door then using his strength he shoved you into the room, your body falling to the hard floor. He closed it behind him quickly, his dark orbs trained on you.

You were crying now, salty tears steadily streaming down your face. With a coo Seungmin crouched in front of you, reaching his hand out to wipe your tears. You shuffled back away from him, trying to create as much distance between you as possible.

Seungmin sighed in frustration and stood up again. He began pacing and pulling at his hair, “I should have known you would have a bad reaction. I should have waited before bringing you here. But fuck I just couldn’t help myself. Stupid, I’m so fucking stupid.”

“I- I don’t.. Seungmin what is going on?” You were practically begging for answers.

“They had to go.” He said simply. “Each one of them was a threat to you- to us. I just knew if I let them live they would pursue you. They’d try to put their slimy disgusting hands on you, touch you as if they owned you. No, no I would- could never let that happen.” He crouched again, invading your space making you squeal and turn your head away. He grabbed your face and forcibly turned your head to face him. “You belong with me, not with them.”

You tried to shake your head but his grip didn’t let you. “Seungmin.. This is insane. Yo-you can’t just kill someone because they talked to me.”

A borderline evil smirk overtook his face, “But that’s the thing, I can. And I did. For you.” He leaned in closer so your noses were touching. Your whole body was shaking in complete fear. You couldn’t believe that the man you were falling for was a serial killer. That the playful, sassy man who danced with you and played smash bros could possibly be this twisted and lethal.

His next words instilled terror in you that would stay with you for as long as you lived.

“Everything I do is for you. But don’t worry, babe. Now that I have you here safe with me I don’t need to kill anyone else. Because no one is ever going to come near you again. It’ll be just you and I forever.”

The deep pit within you told you exactly what he meant; you were never leaving here. He was going to keep you trapped in his web until your last breath.

©doitforbangchan 2024

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alreadyblondenow · 4 months ago

Text

▸ Assassin Jaehyun x Assassin Female reader ▸ Smut, Smut, Smut, Fluff, Angst, Gore, MATURE ▸ JAEHYUN SMUT SERIES: FUCK, MARRY, KILL ▸ VOLUME I: PART 1, PART 2, PART 3 ▸ VOLUME II: PART 1, PART2

Summary: A new life without being an assassin. A chance to run away and forgive. A chance to do it all again and not fuck it up. How can Jaehyun protect you from his world now?

WORD COUNT: 7,000K

Warnings: THIS FIC IS FICTION ONLY, Smut, smut, smut, MATURE THEMES, Heavy description of killings because most of the characters are assassins, mentions of blood, character death, A LOT OF NCT MEMBERS WILL D WORD IN THIS FIC, unprotected sex, mentions of condoms, mentions of pill, pregnancy, swearing, mentions of alcohol. HEAVY CHEATING, FICTONAL MURDER, CAR CRASH, Not everything is proofread, apologies again. I hope I did not forget anything. PLEASE !!! DON'T READ IF IN ANY WAY YOU WILL BE UNCOMFORTABLE.

A/N: This is the fluffiest part of the series. The part 2 will have the gore and other shit heheheheheee. Thank you so much for waiting for Volume II ! I know how its so ugly to wait for an unfinished fic but I am doing my best huhu I'm sorry. I would like to mention that I changed the story, so if you read the teaser for FMK, I CHANGED THE PLOT A LOT SO - THANK YOU FOR YOUR UNDERSTANDING

If a person really loves you, they will have a hard time choosing whether to stay and fight for the relationship or just let you go because it's what you want. It’s between respect and what you want.

Jaehyun wanted to lock you inside this apartment. He was planning to keep you like a thing that he loves for safe keeping. He wanted to make you stay, and not give you a choice anymore. He wanted to own you. He didn’t want to let you go. You’re not leaving his life. Not now. Not ever.

That’s what Jaehyun wants.

But Jaehyun loves you, that’s why he did not chose what he wanted to do. Jaehyun indeed loves you. You can see it in his eyes. Now that you’ve finally broke your silence and told him that you wanted to leave. And not just leave this place… you we’re talking about leaving his life. This life. For good.

He was silent. He didn’t know what to say. But you can see in his eyes, he’s hurt. He even turned his back against you because he didn’t want you to see him cry. It’s not that this relationship grew out of love, but love was the problem all along. You and Jaehyun have this love for each other but life is doing it’s best to stop you two from pouring it.

At this moment, Jaehyun is so frustrated, thinking about the time where it all started. Where did everything went down hill?

Hendery?

His father’s death?

Mark’s death?

“I know you’re deep into thinking right now” you disturbed his thoughts, sobbing, and struggling to speak for yourself but you have to. “But I have respect to you Jaehyun, until this very end, I need you to let go of me. Were tired of fighting, I can feel it. I’ll leave once you approved or accept that this is our end” you said and left the room.

For Jaehyun hearing those words from you hurt. He wanted to hold you, stop you and grasp for every love that you have left for him. But he couldn’t. He was like a stone, he looked heartless on the outside for making you leave the room, but on the inside he was burning with want to make you stay.

For three days, you waited patiently for his decision. And in those three days, Jaehyun was just gone. He wasn’t working, he didn’t attend any meetings, gone. Just gone. You packed your things as slowly as you can just so you could keep your calm composure.

And by the time he finally arrived, you knew that the day was today. You will finally leave and will be granted freedom.

“I’m not going to try and win you back im not going to beg for you to stay. I want you to stay… but that’s not what you want “

He looked calm now you thought. He looked so tensed, mad and hurt the last time you were on the same room.

“But at least give me the chance to let you go properly in the way you deserved. Its the least I could do”

In the days he was gone, he did his best to think straight. He did his best to understand your part, why you want to leave and what good is this going to give you both? But to every question he asks himself, all answers just ends up putting you in good position. He can imagine you with a good life, perhaps leaving his life will give the peace he can’t give you. And besides… having a peaceful life was all you ever dreamed of. He has already become the villain in your life he can’t continue to do that.

You allowed him to help you pack.

You allowed him to drive you to your new place.

You noticed he still wears his ring.

You thought that this day would be awful, heavy and full of tears. But you can see right through Jaehyun that he made sure not to give you a hard time especially today.

“Hmm the place is small are you sure you dont want a bigger one?” You just gave him a look and shook your head no.

Surprisingly Jaehyun looked like a normal person today. He still wears black though, all his tattoos are covered with thick clothing at least you get to see him like this one last time. Like a normal person. One without blood in his hands.

While you two were busy unloading your stuff, it was obvious that Jaehyun was taking his sweet time with you, he doesn’t normally move so slow like this, he even checked every inch of your new place and made sure you were safe. If you’re being honest… you’d kill to make time slower for this specific day.

But after eating quietly at your empty living room floor, it snowed and the room became colder than it already is.

“Jaehyun I want to thank you for today,”he nods his head, looking at you straight in the eye while listening to every word you say, “You know where I live now. But please I hope you keep your word. Let me go” you just said that to avoid him spying on you. Who knows?

He just nods.

“I hope you get to have warm nights now that I’m out of your life” Jaehyun said before finishing his beer.

“Im off now” He said with a cold tone.

That night. You watched him get in his black car without even making a second look to you. He started driving the moment the car was ready to go.

For almost 2 decades of being together. For the love you thought no one could ruin…. Everything went back to square one, on this cold and quiet day.

A year later

Who would have thought that living a decent and innocent life would be something… so challenging.

Challenging because now you realize killing someone just because you can… is not normal. It’s necessary and it can be avoided.

You found a decent job at the library and youre a part timer at a convenience store… everything felt normal. You love it. Even if its boring.

“Well… you’ve been an assassin for far too long” Yuta laughs through the phone, “you should practice self reflection and do some meditating perhaps it could help you” Yuta suggests.

“Hows Taeyong? Is the baking classes paying off?” You asked.

“Yeah, surprisingly he bakes really good. But the guy is a perfectionist… nothing he makes make him happy”

“Well tell him he’s doing a good job already”

After that sweet call with your friend, you headed to your second job, a convenience store not too far from your place. It’s already 9PM, the person before your shift should be ready to head out. The job is kinda lonely, late hours can be so boring, but you figured its quiet. Plus you can eat peacefully, that’s what matters. Now that you’re alone, eating peacefully with the food you made while looking at the window and watch the snow fall…

You remember the night you and Jaehyun parted ways. You haven’t thought much about him. Youre lucky moving out goes hand in hand with moving on… but are you moved on officially?

Everyday, you come home and congratulate yourself for having a kind of life like this. A peaceful and quiet life.

And everyday… you can’t help but think about sharing this kind of life with Jaehyun. Will he like it too?

As you prepare to go to bed, it was a really cold night and you wanted to make sure you’re well rested by the morning comes. But just before you close your eyes, a loud bang at your gate woke every bit of you.

You got a kitchen knife just to sure, funny how not being an assassin for a year can wake every instinct and skill you have with just a loud bang.

By the time you open it, you were quick to point the knife to the person banging at your gate in this ungodly hour.

It was Jaehyun. Covered in blood.

He smiled before he could even speak a word and fell into your arms. Helplessly.

You carried him inside and took care of him.

He lost a lot of blood already but you knew better, of course you can’t call the hospital or the police. “Fuck Jaehyun what am I supposed to do?” But you come your senses and just did whatever you can.

You removed the bullets, stitched him up, cleaned him and made sure that he’s not in pain. Of course… he never removed his wedding ring.

When the sun came out, you went out to see his car and parked it inside. It was full of bullet holes and it seems like he really got lucky last night.

He slept the whole day, it was already sunset when he woke up. He saw you sleeping beside him and didn’t even have second thoughts about hugging you even though every part of him hurt.

“What the fuck happened?” You asked gently.

He can clearly remember how you held a knife on his neck the night he arrived. He just smiled. “Still an assassin, you still got it” he teased you.

“That was just for protection you idiot— answer me what happened”

“Well, a business meeting did not end well, what’s new?” He smirked as if he didn’t just almost died.

“You need hospital by the way… can I call someone to pick you up?” You asked with concern.

“So eager to get rid of me huh?”

“No Jaehyun. I don’t know how to keep you alive— please. Call someone”

“But I like it here… I seriously thought that I’m gonna die last night, and all I could think about is seeing your face again. I’d die happily”

That explains the smile before he collapsed.

It’s hard to reason out with someone in this state, especially with Jaehyun. So you left him and prepared for dinner. But Jaehyun as the hard headed man he is, got up with all his strength to be with you in your small kitchen.

“I shouldn’t be here” he said weakly.

You walked towards him and hugged him gently, thankful that he is indeed alive. But you have to understand that you cant keep coming back to what hurt you.

“Stay for dinner, we’ll figure this out”

That night, you two talked like you didn’t you didn’t grew apart for a year. You were still the comfort that he longs for and he’s not ashamed to show it. While he was talking he didn’t hide anything from you for he was sure that you will never judge him. He admitted that he’s not in great shape, business is not well, drugs was all he had when you left, and that he was depressed. “My father left me with gold, money and a legacy… but not a happy life y/n” he scoffed and finished his meal.

When he was fetched by his new assassins, it was harder to leave than he thought. He feels sick, he never wanted to leave your place ever again, just like the night he left you here for the first time. The night he let you go.

“I bet you’re disappointed in me. I promised to never disturbed you but here I am…” he says with weak eyes.

“You can always visit me Jae… but not this way” you joked and kissed him on the cheek.

Little did you know that your invitation made him happy, a push to be a better man again. He didn’t want to face you again like this, broken, an addict, lost. He wanted to be better. And so he stepped into his car with hope, with motivation, a better drive to live a new life and bring back the mighty Jaehyun.

Months passed by and you find yourself thinking about Jaehyun again. Waiting for a sudden visit, waiting for him again. Maybe it’s because you heard his story now? That he ruined himself because he lost you, it’s not your fault of course, you’re not responsible. It’s his own doing and free will!

But when your waiting has finally come to an end, Jaehyun surprised you in an unexpected way.

It was night time you just got home from a tiring shift and you barely can’t keep your eyes open while doing your dinner. When the doorbell rang, it woke you up in an instant because…. Who would visit you at this hour. You hid the kitchen knife behind you, as you open the gate with one hand. And there he is. Holding flowers in his arm while the other has a pizza box.

“I bet you have a knife behind you” he chuckled and received a warm hug from you, welcoming him like he’s not a stranger to your life.

He looked well, better than a few months ago. He told you he’s 3 months sober now, and that looking forward to see you is something that pushed him to do well. “Thank you” he said warmly. It wasn’t an easy battle, but he still loves you too much that he never wanted you to see him broken and lost.

The night was sweet, you didn’t expect to spend it so close with each other. Almost as if you two were still a happy couple. But that’s what forgiveness is all about. What happened in the past can’t be changed, but it happened already.

“You’re not mad at me anymore?” Jaehyun asks, why he’s slowly caressing your back while you lay on his chest comfortably like you’ve done it a thousand times.

“About what exactly Jae?” you giggle, “About ruining our relationship? Your father’s death? all the betrayal, Mark’s death?”

“Everything. Every little thing” he admits.

“Ever since you set me free, I can’t help but think, ‘can Jaehyun live a life like this? Peaceful and slow?’ I think about it everyday Jae. That’s how much I forgave you already”

Hearing your answer made him tighten his hug, as if he thanked you silently. As if telling you, he’s truly not worthy of your love but he will stay in your life.

“You’re not just here for dinner, am I right?” The question shocked Jaehyun and caught him off guard. He didn’t expect that you’d see right through him. It’s not right to suddenly invite your ex lover (ex wife) to have sex after everything that’s happened in your life.

You watch him become shy, ears red as fuck and dimples flashing before your eyes, “If somehow I put you in the mood” he answered shyly, but bravely, his hand still holding yours fondly “but nonetheless my intentions are good. I really wanted to see you again” he admitted.

And as a prize for his cute honesty, you started kissing him softly. Testing waters. But of course, the man longs for you. He accepted those small kisses and returned some to you too. You feel his heart pounding against his chest, “nervous?” you teased him licking his lips before you proceeded and started to kiss him deeply. You feel his hands roam around your body, your night dress slightly lifted and your lacy panties, his tight pants are the only barriers that are stopping you two to fuck then and there.

“we shouldn’t be doing this” he whispered in the most frustrating tone, you just giggle and accepted every hungry kiss and bite he gives you.

You two soon ended in your bed, hands with each other, lips to lips and bodies immensely closed. But Jaehyun didn’t want to ruin a perfect day, you didn’t have sex, but there was passion and intimacy happened in your bed that night.

“We can have sex, hopefully next time?” He smiles sweetly while you continue to kiss him. Holding his hand and keeping him close.

Jaehyun slept like a baby that night, he hasnt been sleeping well ever since your relationship went downhill even more when you left, but tonight he slept like a baby. Peaceful, deep, worry less. Truth be told he didn’t want to sleep that night. He wanted to just stay beside you, look at you and bask in this feeling of being near you again. But he was just so comfortable beside you that he can’t help but sleep.

“Good morning” you kissed his exposed back, tracing his tattoos which tickles him. He smiles sweetly his ears turning red. He missed this feeling. The feeling of waking up happy, looking forward for a beautiful day, seeing you and getting to hold you first thing in the morning.

It feels like a dream.

“Am I dreaming?” He asks sweetly, reaching out to you for kisses, sweet and hungry ones. Kisses on your neck, kisses on your lips. good morning indeed.

“You know when you left, you never even visited in my dreams. It feels like my life was in constant punishment when you left” he said while touching your lips. Still can’t believe that you’re somehow…. Back together now. “By the way, I haven’t slept that good for a long time” he added.

You can really see that he’s well rested. ”Is it because of me?” You asked sincerely Jaehyun can see the guilt in your eyes. He just pulled you in for a hug and kissed you good morning, He didn’t want to ruin such a beautiful morning.

“How about, I make us breakfast and you hug me from behind?” He suggests.

“Sounds like a plan” you answered and placed a kiss on his head before you got up from bed.

Both you and Jaehyun can’t believe that you slept on the same bed last night… he was looking at your ceiling with high hopes that maybe, if he could make the right things now, and make it up to you… maybe? You can come hone with him in 127 house again? Start a new life? And try again.

“Jae, what time are you going to leave today?” You disturbed his thoughts.

“Uh… afternoon. I have to fly to Italy… for work” you already know what kind of business that is and you didn’t bother asking. What’s important is, he’s here.

Nothing is clear with this relationship yet. Welcoming Jaehyun in your life again is like coming after what broke you. How did this happen? After today? And then what? You're back to 127 house and become a Jeong again?

You were in deep thoughts while you watch him move around your kitchen, while he prepares a breakfast for two, while he makes your morning drink. You look at his healed tattoos, the ones that are new when you told him you wanted to leave. Maybe that’s a sign? Maybe you needed both to heal and be far from each other in order to realize that you two are meant to be. No doubt.

“Hey,” he asked sweetly and disturbing you with your ugly thoughts. “You okay?” He asked as he hands you your food. A plate so full that it made you remember how he used to take care of you back then.

“I was just thinking how suddenly you’re back into my life. I’m not going to pretend that I’m not thinking about it… I mean the whole idea of me leaving is to be away from you” you said as gently as possible. Jaehyun is not an unreasonable man, he understands where this is all coming. Theres no need to argue for sure, there’s no need to comment to what you said for every part of it is true. He just smiled at you.

“Your placed changed so much, I see you really put into work on every corner. I even saw your garden, was that lemon tree I saw?” He asked with a smile, genuinely curious.

“Yes, Taeyong planted it for me. They visited once. I suck managing this place Jae, but I love it” you chuckled, “who would have thought that I would have my own place”

“Who would have thought that I wont be part of this too,” he smiled and took a bite, “Its been what? A year already? Almost? I almost didn’t recognize you if I’m being honest you look free, you don’t look scary anymore”

You couldn’t believe what you’re hearing, he’s just making you laugh. He loves seeing your smile.

“While me… I’m still the same Jaehyun, the same Jaehyun that fell in love with you-“

“No Jaehyun you’re different. Every part of you is different now” Jaehyun didn’t argue further because its true. Maybe it was a compliment? Maybe not? He looks at his reflection through the dark coffee and see his face. His neck full of tattoos, he can see through his eyes that he’s broken and lost. But alas a happy man, at this point of hour.

By the time Jaehyun left you didn’t expect it feel so heavy. You wanted to ask when can you see him again? But you sure do know that doesn’t work that way. He comes when he comes. And you’re just crazy in love while waiting for him.

“I’ll be back” is what he said before he placed a kiss on your lips, a deep one. A kiss that wanted you to pull him back to your arms and stop him from leaving your house. But no.

What the fuck is this? Why are you jumping back to what hurt you?

“How’s everything while I’m gone?” Jaehyun asked sternly to his bodyguard.

“We lost a few men but the deal is sealed sir. Might I add sir that your fiancé is already waiting in your private plane”

The mentioned of the word “fiance” made him miss you already. He lets go a deep sigh and took one last look to your house before he orders his bodyguard to drive.

When Jaehyun arrived at his private airplane, there, a lady same as your age is waiting for his fiance to arrive. She is Jaehyun’s fiance that he got into a relationship with because he’s sad and depressed because you left him. He did tried to love her at some point… but he just ends up looking for pieces of you in her that she will never have.

Jaehyun thought that marrying himself away will eventually make the heartbreak go away… but it never did. The relationship evolved between lust and pure passion only… at first. Until her father, a powerful like Jaehyun made a deal with him. “Marry my daughter and we will be 2 families that is so powerful that no one will dare piss you off anymore”

Jaehyun agreed. Proposed and gave himself more troubles and problems. And that is the start of his fall. His mighty reign being shaken. But that is when he became honest with himself too. He needed you back in his life.

Before the accident that brought you two together again, Doyoung is the one who suggested Jaehyun to see you and try to win you back, simply because he can’t stand what’s happening now with everything. “Maybe y/n can bring the old Jaehyun back” Doyoung said to his boss.

Not long before Jaehyun left to see you, his fiancé staged an ambush and tried killing Jaehyun. She was well aware that Jaehyun will not be easy to kill, its fun for her too. She’s crazy like that. One of the many things Jaehyun liked about her… but not anymore.

Present time

“Well are you two together again? What does that make me?” The girl started while she poured a whiskey for herself.

“Don’t even bother touching her. You’re aware of who she is and what she’s capable of. You’d be dead by now if she knew about you… and what you did” Jaehyun said before closing his eyes, just soaking in with the feeling of the calm you brought to his life again.

“Why cant you love me Jaehyun?” The girl cries.

“I tried” is all Jaehyun could say.

“Then why are we still doing this? Why are you still marrying me?” The girl asked, sobbing like a helpless person.

“Business is business babe” he reaches for the woman’s face a caressed it like he admires her. But Jaehyun just closed his eyes and slept the whole flight. But the desperate girl went down on her knees and unbuckled Jaehyun’s belt, pulled out his cock and gave him a blow job. This girl is crazy, desperate for Jaehyun’s love and attention, but all she could have right now is lust.

Jaehyun may be an angel inside your home, but outside of it’s four corners, he’s back to being heartless. Well, you can’t blame the man who loves you. This world that he lives in will eat him alive if he continues to be soft in front of other people.

“Is that the best you got?” Jaehyun moans and held on to the girl’s head before thrusting slowly and deeper. Reaching low inside the girl’s throat, thrusting inside out until he cums.

Jaehyun was away for a couple of months, no calls, nothing. Taeyong and Yuta managed to visit again over the months that Jaehyun is away, you loved every moment of it. You just wish that Jaehyun could be present too, and he could spend time with the others too just like old times. Watch the sunset together. But you all know that it’s not that simple anymore. Jaehyun is different and will not understand the word friendship anymore, for he’s not looking forward to rekindling with Yuta and Taeyong too. All he cares about is… you.

“Now that you two are back…” Yuta started.

“What’s the plan?”

“It’s up to him. If he leaves the life that ate him whole, then maybe we can really start again. But if not… I’ll leave for good. I’ll hide from him this time. I’ll never go back there”

“But do you think it’s going to happen now?” Taeyong adds.

“No. Honestly. I think I’m giving myself a big trouble. You guys… I don’t even know when is he coming back, he’s not even calling? I can’t see the real Jaehyun yet. The one that I loved, the one that I married… but, now that I’m not an assassin anymore… I’ll let myself love him as my true self… you know?”

“Speaking of marriage, did you divorce him when you left?” Yuta asked.

“No. I was hoping that… eventually, we can put it into good use? He loves me. I know enough that he will not marry anyone else besides me”

“So you’re ready to be a Jeong now?” Yuta asked, “now that the Jeongs dont own you, are you ready to be a Jeong? … you know, like a normal person”

Assassin or not, Jaehyun’s world is crazy. And that is why you can’t answer Yuta yet.

“I need some time” that’s all you can say and Yuta respects that.

Meanwhile… Jaehyun is celebrating for 3 months straight with his engagement. A fake happiness of course. But a good time is a good time. He will endure everything until all of this is done and he can come back to you.

“How’s Y/n?” Doyoung asks quietly beside Jaehyun while his boss watches the sun goes down. It’s beautiful here in Italy Jaehyun thought. But the situation he’s in right now is ugly.

“She’s good… For the first time of my life I slept soundly… beside her. During the time that we were together, I just cant help but think that… letting go of her is the best decision I’ve ever made, and I’m happy I let her go and build this life that she has right now. A life without me, without the killings, dodging bullets….”

“So you’re giving up?”Doyoung asks calmly, “If she can’t bring your might back then what can? Who can?”

“I’ll think of something else, but for now… I would have to keep him away from this life. She doesn’t deserve this”

After 6 months of faking happiness, never ending parties and business arrangements, finally Jaehyun arrived again at your place. Unannounced and alone.

You just finished taking a shower, humming happily a song that you heard from the radio. You bathrobe is what covers your body, hair still wet from the warm shower when suddenly…

“Nice song,” Jaehyun whispers beside your ear with his deep voice.

Which startled you and made you threw a punch which he of course can dodge. He covers your mouth when you realized that its Jaehyun. Hugging him tightly in your dark room. He didn’t missed the fact that you’re only wearing a robe and you’re both happy about seeing each other again.

“Is it a good time?” Jaehyun asked like a gentleman. He was talking about having sex. He just wanted to make sure that you’re okay with this.

“Its a perfect timing” you said and kissed him, helped him remove his clothes. He was dressed in Prada from to toe, you already knew that he came from an important event that ended very late. A business meeting?

“Stop it with your thoughts,” he whispers and made you focus on him by revealing you left boob and proceeds to licking your nipples. Pushing you against the wall and continues to lick and suck on your left boob until your nipple is sensitive and you’re to left to want more on the other side. He has the changed a bit when it comes to stupid shit you thought.

He motions you on your bed without breaking what he’s doing to left boob. He bits it playfully before he stops and pushes you to your comfort. You watch him undress the last few garments he’s wearing. Specifically his expensive watch and his boxer briefs.

And when he’s all naked on top you, kissing your exposed neck, he swiftly removed your robe and positioned him in between your legs.

“Do you like it?” He asked first before he proceeds.

Of course you love it. Everything he does.

You feel him smile in between kisses. But not because of lust, he’s just happy that he’s making love with the love of his life again.

“I love you. Always have. Always will Y/n”

He left those words before licking the folds in between your legs, making you moan and say his name over and over again because of the things he makes you feel using his tongue. You feel him lick you slowly, from time to time and proceeds to spreading your folds and finding sensitive spots in your cunt that only he know. He has always been your weakness.

When he was done giving that great oral, he finds your lips kisses it endlessly, down to your neck, the valley between your boobs, giving both of your boobs a good lick… as if he has kissed and marked evert part of your body.

“I don’t have condoms with me,” he whispers while he continues to kiss your neck. “Am I lucky?” He playfully bit the shell of your ear. But you were quick to teas him.

“After all the shit you put me through? — I have condoms by the drawer” you teased him and watch him roll his eyes but happily reaches the first condom.

You watch pump his cock a few times while his fingers runs up and down you wet slit and watch you shiver. He rolls the condom and lines his tip on your cunt, his lips were quick to find yours as he pushes through your walls oh so slowly. Like he’s savoring every second that he’s thrusting.

When was the last time you two made love?

Probably the night of your wedding?

Jaehyun hates that thought. So he thrusted deeper, watching you melt with every sensation he gives you, catch every moan you let out and grant everything you asked.

You want him to kiss you while he fucks you? Sure. Jaehyun made sure that you’re breathless with his kisses, leaving you wanting for air. You want him to go deeper? Sure. He pins your legs down on the mattress making sure you wont close them so he could go deeper.

“Dont stop” you moan out. And Jaehyun got excited and put you in a new position that you loved. Lifting one leg up on his shoulders as he goes deeper while fucking you. You said dont stop right? He felt you cum already, but you were so into the sex that you don’t care if you came already. You want him to keep going while he overstimulates you, putting you in all fours, pulling your body against his chest and squeezes your boobs while he fucks you.

After a few more rounds on different corners of the bed, you and Jaehyun rest and catch your breaths after using all the condoms you have in store. “If it wasnt for the condoms” Jaehyun giggled and placed a kiss on your lips.

“Are you staying for the night?” You asked as you cling onto him. The man keeps you around his strong arms.

“ I will. I want to stay. Can I stay?” Jaehyun asks sweetly.

“Of course” you answered.

“How about your life?” You feel him keep you closer as if he’s not ready to let go if you wont allow him to come back in your life. “Can I stay in your life?”

“Id love that” you answered him sincerely.

And you saw the same smile he flashed the night he asked you to marry him.

That night you realized that he loves you. And no one can ever make him happier.

After that night, Jaehyun made sure he will not make the same mistakes again.

Whenever he leaves, he leaves with a promise, may it be small or something big like, “I’ll fix you porch light when I come back, don’t get someone to do it” or “lets go see a movie, a musical perhaps?”

He made sure that even though you can’t contact him through phone, you have this certainty that he will come back.

He never brought work whenever he’s with you. This time, its you whom he saves from over working. Like now…

Jaehyun just arrived with groceries in his hand and he you were on the phone with your boss from the library, you were talking about your updated schedules when Jaehyun just placed a kiss on your lips. You thought that … that was it. But no. He looked you in the eye and kissed you deeper, he can hear your boss through the other side of the line, reciting the dates of your schedule. When the call ended and you were breathless the whole time you were kissing, you smack his shoulder and placed a kiss on his cheek and marking the dates on your calendar.

“Wow you’re one busy librarian…” Jaehyun says, “I’m happy for you” he smiles and kissed you one last time before unpacking the groceries.

“How long are you going to stay? Its been three days since we last saw each other… I just noticed that you’ve been coming here more often” you smiled and hugged him from behind.

“I’m staying longer this time because I will be away for much longer… BUT but.. don’t worry, we will have so much fun” Jaehyun felt your embrace became tighter and grow silent, but what can you do?

“I have something for you.. its a trick to make you stay.. I hope it works tho” you blurted out and told him to go in your room. The gift is big so he can see it immediately. You didn’t go inside with him. You figured that… when he sees that gift, he will need those special seconds all to himself.

And by the time Jaehyun saw it… you heard him play the piano again.

He never touched one when he started training to become an assassin. But you knew that music was his first love not you.

He went back to where you were standing, he leaned on the wall beside you and crossed his arms. “Its working… “ he smiled and kissed you deeply, thanking you countless of times for bringing music back to his life.

Your relationship with Jaehyun went on like this for a year. Celebrating each other’s birthdays together, countless of beautiful nights and mornings of him playing the piano you gave him, giving your house life, and enjoying holidays together. Sometimes Jaehyun comes home to you with blood in his hands, but you’re well aware of what kind of person he is outside your home. You never fight or argue, Jaehyun was the one who’s so quick to stop you whenever a conversation is getting heated. The flashback of the nights during your marriage kept flashing in his head. And he will do anything in his power to stop it from happening again.

“Mmm one more?” Jaehyun requests after you two finished your nth round for tonight. He will leave first thing in the morning so he is doing everything he can to keep you awake.

“Jaehyun I’m defeated” you chucked and kissed him. You feel his cock go hard and you feel him hump your thigh, all you could is complain… but you love every second of it. He’s been fucking you deep and slow lately, it feels extra good because its raw. “But can you please be faster or rougher this time?”

“Why? Don’t you love it when I go deep?… and slow?” He teased as he pushes in back to your cunt. Making you moan a little louder, he bit your should and slapped your ass. Spreading your ass cheek while he pounds hard.

“Fuck Jaehyun I’ll break-“ you struggle to tell him as he fucks you deep and rough.

“You asked for this.. just a minute ago” he kissed your neck and bit you again, “make up you mind”

The round ended with his mouth on your left boob, his right hand on your right boob and his cock continuously shoots loads of cum inside you. He was out of breath, you look at him and he was just as ruined as you are.

He removed his cock slowly, kissing you all over body. Everything that he sees a little red on your skin, “sorry for this” he apologized and kiss you.

“This is nice right?” He looks you in the eye. “Life has been so much better for us right?”

“Yeah” and you proceed to sleeping in his loving arms. You didn’t hear it but he told you he loves you.

On the next day, you find no Jaehyun in your bed but a note with red roses instead.

“I’ll be back by the time these roses withered. Just in time to give you fresh ones” - J

Little did you know, he was gone early this morning because he’s getting married.

“You told me you would be back last night?-“ Doyoung was quick to tend to Jaehyun, his cousin, his boss whom he needed to deliver at the altar in approximately half an hour.

“The sex was good-“ Jaehyun teased Doyoung.

“Okay shut up before you put her in trouble,” Doyoung says as he helps his boss put in his coat.

“I need a tequila shot, I can’t do this sober” Jaehyun demands, and in a matter of second 3 tequila shots are ready for him.

The wedding was grand. It was the biggest wedding of the century and every public platform is updated with the happening of the great Jeong Jaehyun’s wedding to the country’s darling. A power couple in the eyes of the public, but they know so little of what’s really happening.

Every powerful businessman is invited. Every assassin that the Jeongs own is present, theres no safer place in the world right now. And Jaehyun just wants to get this over with and come home to you. And lay out his plan to you. But this is going to be a long suffering, he still have his “honeymoon” in Italy.

Jaehyun knew that you will eventually hear about this marriage, how could you not? It’s all over the news. Jaehyun just hopes and prays that you allow him to explain first before you curse him and leave him again. Nonetheless, he will fight for you this time.

It was a long painful waiting for Jaehyun’s return. Maybe it’s for the better so you could have time to feel the heartbreak and have time for yourself before he comes back and feed you with lies again.

You remember the night that you two got in an argument because he thought you were accusing him of cheating, he told you, “I am many things but I will never cheat on you”

Look at you now Jae.

It’s obvious that the marriage is for business only. But who knows? You still have your doubts.

It also… doesn’t change the fact that you’re the mistress now. Yes you got married but… who would believe you. He married this girl in the eyes of the world… everyone would believe that I’m a home wrecker now.

And then you felt it….

You came running to the sink to throw up out of nowhere. You felt weak in an instant.

Maybe its because the thought of Jaehyun? Just thinking about him makes you sick to the core.

Or your period is late?

“It can’t be” you thought and ran to the nearest drugstore to buy a pregnancy test.

But as you walk your way there. You kept on thinking about the things that will happen after this.

Jaehyun will not let you go.

Everything will be complicated again.

It can ruin his marriage, it can ruin a lot of business deals.

It will ruin him.

This peace that you have right now will be taken away from you and bringing a baby in this scary world is the last thing you want to do now.

But the thought of…. “what if everything works out? Jaehyun loves kids”

And all this overthinking made you miss the stop sign at the side walk and you were hit by a car in a matter of seconds.

Thank you so much for reading this work of mine! If you love what you read, please leave something in my inbox and tell me how you feel! CLICK THIS LINK. I hope we can practice, give and take.

Stay tuned for the next part! -B.

#nct smut #jaehyun smut #jaehyun #jeong jaehyun #nct 127 smut #nct imagines #nct scenarios #nct fluff #nct #nct x reader #nct fanfic #jaehyun x reader #jaehyun nct #assassin au

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homestylehughes · 6 months ago

Text

don't you ever grow up

pairing(s) beckett sennecke x fem!reader

summary: beckett and yn throughout the years falling in love with each other.

warning(s): none. just some pure teeth rotting fluff :)

wc: 2.3k

an: hi loves!! new fic about a new pookie!! Beckett!! ughhhh I love this fic so much. I was inspired by a Taylor swift song..no surprise here!! i loved writing this so much, its so sweet and cute. I wasn't too sure how to write Beckett, so I just kinda went with it LOL. also I love the header I made, its just so?? cute LOL! anyways! I hope you enjoy, like and reblog if you do! more coming very soon! let me know if you have ideas for me! much love as always.

happy reading <3

12 years old

“Yn!! Put your bike up, it's time for dinner!” I hear my mom shouting from the front yard of our house. Letting out a deep sigh, I sadly slowly turned myself around. I was just getting to a good part of my ride mom, I thought to myself as I made my way back to our house.

Pink and purple clouds litter the sky, summer nights in Canada were always so beautiful, the clouds kinda look like cotton candy? I wonder what flavors they taste like, I think to myself as I continue to ride down the street. My mind is so captured by the cotton candy colored clouds and the way the ground feels beneath my bike, that I forget that I'm riding a bike, before I feel myself crashing into something.

As soon as I know it, I'm laying straight on my back in the middle of the sidewalk. I turn my head to the side to see my pink sparkly bike turned upside down on its side. I lean myself up slightly to see something I ran into, happens to be a boy?

“Oh my gosh” the boy says, scrabbling to his feet, his helmet on his head crooked from the crash.

“Are you hurt, do you need 911?” he asks me, dropping his knees beside me.

“Im okay, i don't need 911” i giggle

“Good, i thought i killed you” he says, offering me a hand pulling me to my feet

“Thank you '' I say, dusting myself off from the crash, fully taking in the boy in front of me, his short brown hair sticking out from his helmet, his blue eyes softly shining in the evening sun.

“Do you have a concussion? You're looking at me kinda weird” he asks, waving his hand in front of my face.

“Im okay, im okay” i say quickly, embarrassed that he caught me looking at him

“Okay, I'm very sorry for running into you, I was looking at the clouds..” he trails off, as he pushes my bike towards me from the grass.

“Do you think they look like cotton candy?” i ask smiling

“I WAS THINKING THAT” he laughs

“ME TOO” I say laughing back at him, as I get on my bike, the nameless boy doing the same.

“So what's your name” i ask as we start to slowly pettle our way down the sidewalk

“Beckett” he says,

“you?” he asks turning to me

“Yn”

“So yn” he says looking forward, “What do you think the cotton candy clouds taste like?”

14 years old.

“FIRST DAY OF HIGHSCHOOL HOW ARE WE FEELING?” Beckett yells beside me from the backseat of his moms car.

“I'd feel much better if you were not yelling in my ear at 8 in the morning” sending him a tight lipped smile.

“Sorry sorry… im just excited and nervous” he says

“Why are you nervous?” i ask confused by his statement

“What if no one likes me? Or or i hate the classes i have” he rambles

“Beckett, you're probably already the most popular boy in our grade and you haven't even stepped foot into the school, you're going to be just fine '' I say, resting my hand on his leg in an attempt to calm him down.

“You always know how to make everything better. What would I do without you?” he says, smiling at me.

“You'd go crazy probably” i laugh, “don't ever think about replacing me” i say teasingly

“I could never, no one could replace my best girl”

Best girl?? Oh gosh, is this car getting hot or is it me?

“Come one, thing one and thing two” Beckett's mom says from the front seat, before she opens her door. We quickly grab our bags, getting out of the car.

“Okay come on you two! Picture time!” she says smiling, holding her phone out in front of her, ready for the picture

“Mom. Are you serious?” Beckett whines from beside me, a quick elbow jab to his side quickly shuts him up.

“Ow!” he yelps

“Shut up and take the picture you big baby”

“Yes ma’am” he says rubbing his side dramatically

“Okay get closer! Act like you two love each other” she says

Beckett and I huddle in closer together upon his moms request, feeling his arm wrap around my waist, my heart rate picking up at the feeling. Snap out of it yn get it together. It's just your 14 year old hormones.

“OKAY 1 2 3!” his moms shouts from us, snapping out of my daydream, i cast a big smile on my lips for the picture.

“Awwwww!! You two look so cute. Ugh please don't ever grow up you guys!!” she says before pulling us into a hug with each of her arms.

“Okay” she says pulling back, “have the best first day ever! I love you both, beckett please watch out for yn”

“Always mom, always gotta look after my best girl” he says, slinging an arm around my shoulder, as we walk up the stairs of the school, with a smile on my face that can be seen across the world.

Not knowing how the first day of highschool would go for the next four years, but what I did know was that I was in love with my best friend.

16 years old.

Today is the day of the sophomore formal. My hands couldn't help but shake as I touched and fixed my hair for the 300th time in the last 5 minutes. Staring at myself in the mirror as I run my hands along my dress, in an attempt to smooth out the non existent wrinkles.

“Yn honey how's it going in there?” i hear my mom call out from the other side of the door

“Good..just looking over everything!” I say, taking a deep breath and one last look at myself before I open the door.

Slowly walking out, seeing my mom standing in the doorway, her hand moving to cover her mouth as she stares at me.

“How do I look?” I nervously ask my hands running to lay with the fabric of my dress.

“Oh baby, you look stunning. Beckett won't be able to keep his eyes off of you the whole night.” she says to me, her voicing cracking with emotion

“Really?”

“Yes really, you look beautiful” running a hand across my cheek, as she looks at me

“Gosh i didnt think id get this emotional” she rasps out

“Okay let's go downstairs, and get some pictures! Beckett should be here any-” the noise of the doorbell cuts her off

“Speak of the devil, there he is!” she turns to me with a smile, “okay you wait up here and then i'll tell you when to come down, okay?”

Nodding my head in agreement, as she begins to make sure way downstairs. My voice feels like it's caught in my throat as I stand there. My nerves start to rise again at the thought of Beckett seeing me all dressed up. Oh gosh what if he thinks i look bad, and doesn't want to go with me anymore??

“Yn, honey are you ready?” my mom calls from the bottom of the stairs

“Yeah, coming!”I shout, now or never I think to myself, taking one last deep breath before heading down the stairs.

My slow steps only add to the building nerves that I already have in my body. My head remains low as I walk down the stairs, scared to look up and see everyones eyes on me. Reaching the bottom of the stairs, slowly bringing my head up, locking eyes with a suited up, wide eyed beckett.

“Hi” i whisper softly

“You look so beautiful” he says instantly

“Thank you, you look handsome” I say, a nervous smile spreading across my face.

“Here these flowers are for you '' Beckett says, holding out the most beautiful bouquet of flowers i've ever seen in front of me.

“These are so beautiful, thank you”

“You're welcome, always gotta do the best for my best girl” he says with a smile

Best girl. Best girl. Best girl.

“Okay, come on love birds, picture time!” my mom says from beside us, beckett quickly moving to grab my hand and part of my dress as i walk out the door. Flashing him a smile as we head outside

“Okay, act like you two love each other!” becketts mom says from beside mine, standing in front of us, as they hold their phones out.

Becketts arm finds my waist, as mine finds his, looking at each other with soft smiles before turning back towards the camera.

“1 2 3!” my mom says

“Oh! They look so darling!! How cute!” our moms say, as they look at the pictures

“Okay another one!”

Quickly moving back into picture formation, putting a smile on my face ready for the picture, just as my mom is counting down I feel becketts lips pressing against the side of my head, right as the picture is taken.

Heat flows through my body once he pulls away, a smile dancing across his lips as he looks down at me.

“You look beautiful” he says once again to me

“When you look at me like that, i feel like i am” i say

“Good, my best girl should always feel like that”

Not knowing what his best girl means as he pulls me towards his car, but I do know that I'm falling more and more in love with him each day.

18 years old.

It's the day of becketts draft. My hands are shaking as I sit next to his mom. I couldn't be more proud of him, all of the hard work and dedication he's put in to get to this point, I could be more proud. As much as I am proud of him, I can't help but feel waves of nervousness and selfishness flow through my body.

Where will Beckett be drafted at, how far will he be from his friends, family and me? What team will he go to, what number will he pick? All those thoughts are flowing through my head as I sit silently next to his mom, who's talking to his father.

I see Beckett lean forward to get my attention, matching his movements I lean forward looking at him.

“Are you okay?” he mouths to me

I send him a quick smile and thumbs up before settling back into my seat, just as I do the lights start to dim, signaling that the draft is starting. Taking a deep breath before directing my attention to the stage, it's now or nothing.

Beckett was projected to be the 10th or 12th draft pick, so hearing his name being called as the 3rd overall draft pick from the Anaheim Ducks sounded like a fever dream to everyone in the crowd, especially beckett. Who rises from his seat, with a shocked look on his face. His jaw dropped as he turned to his dad, who pulled him into a hug. Making his way down the aisle to his mom, doing the same with her.

My hands are shaking as I stand up, I can't help but start to cry, as Beckett wraps his arms around me, pulling me into the tightest hug ever. pulling back quickly before I even have a chance to speak, he's making his way down the aisle towards the stage. His mom brings me into her arms as we lean into each other crying at the sight of our boy walking across the stage.

I didn't see Beckett for the rest of the draft, he seemed to be whisked away by reporters and the media for pictures or questions. At the end of the draft, his family and I are led into the back of the arena into a room, with ducks reporters, and right in the middle of the crowd stands beckett. Dressed in a ducks jersey and hat, stands the smiling boy.

As soon as he sees his parents, he makes a beeline straight towards them, pulling them back into tight hugs as they whisper sweet things to him. I stand back witnessing the sweet moment between him and his family, with a smile on my face. Pulling away from his mom, his eyes catch mine, making his way towards me, pulling me off my feet into a hug.

“ im so proud of you” i say to him as he settles me back on my feet

“I can't believe this, this is so crazy” he says

“I know, i'm so so proud of you my little duck” i say tugging on his new found jersey

“I couldn't have done it without my best girl” he says looking down at me, our eyes locked together with so much force and love?

Before I even know what's happening, becketts face is moving closer and closer to mine, and before I know it his lips are meeting mine in a sweet kiss. My hands grab his face, pulling myself into his lips. A smile spreads across his face when he pulls away, my hands still resting on his face, as I look at him in shock.

“I've wanted to do that since I was 12 years old, I don't know what took me so long,” he says to me.

“But what I do know” he continues “is that i never want to go another year or day or week without it” before connecting our lips back together once again.

#nhl fanfiction #nhl hockey #nhl imagine #nhl x reader #nhl fic #beckett sennecke #anahiem ducks

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bellalaufeyson69 · 2 years ago

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Peter Quill x Reader

Enemies to lovers (sort of)

Breakfast

(Spoiler if reading this next sentence! Takes place after GOTG and before GOTG3. Gamora is with the Ravagers and is no longer with Peter in any way. Also meaning that as confirmed by James Gunn, we the reader can understand what Groot says because we’ve been with him so long 🥹)

Description: Quill and Yn hardly ever get along and it’s gotten on everyone’s nerves. Nebula comes up with a solution to the problem by making them spend time together in hopes of working out the differences.

Wc ♡ 3.5k

Masterlist ♡

————

Rays of sunlight burst through the wide front windows of the Milano as the team sat around the table waiting for Groot to finish the breakfast. We all took a straw from a hat daily to see who had the duty, though when any one of us pulled the straw and saw it said groot, we’d discretely pretended it said someone else’s name. It wasn’t that we didn’t trust him to be a good cook, it was just that he can get a little… distracted.

“What day is it today?” The tree pondered, looking over to Mantis awaiting an answer all the while completely unaware that a twig from his arm has now caught fire from the stove.

I was quick to catch this and jumped from my spot to put it out, though as I ran to help him I came crashing into a tall, decently sweaty Peter. “Common Quill!” I hissed before turning back to Groot only to be halted by his annoying voice.

“Oh like that was my fault,” he complained throwing his hands in the air and looking to the team for reassurance yet getting none as they tended to zone Peter and I’s arguments out.

“Maybe if you payed any attention to anything you ever do!” I snapped turning back to face him feeling a rise of irritation come over me causing me to completely forget why I’d even got up in the first place. “Also, you’re disgusting. We have showers for a reason, you literally soaked my arm in your nasty sweat,” I made a disturbed expression whilst wiping the warm wet liquid onto my pants.

He scoffed with an eye roll while taking a glance at the ceiling. “Im sorry if I get a little sweaty when I work out, it’s natural, and I was going to take a shower, not that it’s any of your business; after we ate breakfast.”

“How convenient, so we can all join together and eat while inhaling your B.O.”

“Oh would you two please just shut up! I’m sick of all the incessant bickering you make me want to rip my ears off,” Nebula intruded from beside Groot. She and Rocket had been busy helping Groot put out the small flame that Peter and I had long forgotten about. “You’ve been irritating because Gamora’s gone, and you’ve been a living-breathing brat ever since you failed the last mission,” she called out our behavior almost in a motherly way. She’s been weirdly diplomatic when dealing with us instead of just telling us to go yell at each other somewhere else.

With a huff I went back to my seat and sank in the chair feeling a tinge of embarrassment overwhelm me at the memory of that last mission. I had never failed before, and this time put everyone at danger because I couldn’t control my emotions and attacked a guard too soon. I got a lecture about it from pretty much everyone except Mantis and Groot. That experience definitely hurt my pride quite a lot, so sometimes I might have a little extra sass to try and build it back up. “At least mines a real reason to be acting like a jerk,” Peter mumbled while sitting down in the seat farthest from me.

I snickered to myself at his comment. Sometimes he can be a real idiot. “You realize you called yourself a jerk too right? Nice one Einstein.” I clapped back not willing to let him win this argument, or really any in the future. Peter Quill just always has to be the leader, the cool guy, always right. Not when it comes to me.

“That’s it!” Nebula shouted in pure aggravation. She stomped over to the both of us and grabbed one of our arms with a decent strength considering she’s part bot. “You two are on breakfast duty, and if I hear you argue once while doing it then you’re both gonna be stuck cleaning the engine for two months,” she snapped, shoving us both toward the fridge. We often all had chores to do but we made it fun by having a spin wheel to see who has to do what. Cleaning the engine was always the worst one, but what made it easier was knowing you only had to do it once and then you could spin the wheel next chore week.

“Who said you were in charge? I think you’re forgetting this is MY ship,” Peter defended while crossing his arms.

“Yeah,” I added confidently. Who the heck is Nebula to tell us what to do.

“Nah I agree with that. You two are the most annoying a-holes I’ve ever had to share a space with. Mantis and Drax don’t even argue as much as you do,” Rocket chimed in matter of factly.

“It is true! I would much rather sit and listen to Mantis’s pathetic stories than hear you two fight anymore,” Drax said as he stood tall and serious.

Mantis glanced over to him with a bubbly smile. “Awhh thank you!”

“You are welcome idiot,” Drax replied with a pleasant smile. In his mind he was being respectful, and Mantis didn’t know any better.

Nebula turned her head back to us with an expression as of saying ‘that’s what I thought’. “So it’s settled. You two are gonna work this stupid stuff out, and if we hear so much as a bad tone, then you get stuck with Engine duty,”

We’d both surfaced a similar response between grumbles and eye rolls, yet had no choice but to accept our fate. Majority rules is how this ship functions, which was a feature I loved when it was in regard to someone else. Soon the rest of the group piled out, rocket on his way out mumbled on about how we’d better be quick. I gave a short glance to Peter which was a mistake as he’d so very annoyingly been standing there sifting through songs his Walkman and earbuds. Of course he’d tune me out, I wouldn’t be surprised if he just stood here the whole time too.

I started gathering some of ingredients and pans we’d need, already feeling angry at the fact that he hadn’t even attempted to move to help me. This was a clear indicator that my assumption of his laziness was likely going to be right. I semi aggressively dropped down the container of bacon onto the counter letting my current mood take the control of my motion. I grabbed the unused pan and placed it down and began putting strips of bacon on it. “You’re doing that wrong,” Peter softly mentioned. He seemed tired, I wasn’t sure if it was tired of the arguing or just in general but the tone definitely helped ease my anger a little bit.

With a huff I turned to look over at him and was surprised to find him standing so close, hovering just inches from my frame looking down at the pan, then making eye contact with me. His expression was blank, and calm which confused me. “I’m putting the strips out, how else am I supposed to do it?” I felt my brow still furrowed down in the looming frustration I felt before. We always fight, and one of us always takes it too far, those are times that make it hard to ever not be annoyed at the man’s presence.

He took an earbud out and let it hang by the cord before stepping closer until his body was pressed against my side. I stayed long enough to feel his warmth until I realize the normal thing to do would be to step out of his way, so that I did. Part of me wished he’d do it again, that he’d give me an excuse to accept his embrace. If I hate him so much why did that little ounce of intimacy feel so nice? A confusing mix of emotions. “You don’t put them all at once only do half so they cook more evenly,” he explained whilst taking off some of the already placed bacon. “Also put them folded like this so that- F*CK! AGH!” He’d instantly jumped back from the grizzling pan holding his hand in pain. “Stupid grease, ow!” He complained to the pan as if it were alive which made me laugh quite a lot. The whole scene was funny really.

I hadn’t noticed that through my laughing he’d been looking at me smiling ever so slightly, until I caught him, in which he looked back at the pan. “Are you alright there captain?” I amusingly teased his super strong title, while instinctively placing a caring hand on his shoulder with a soft rub. The moment I placed it I felt the mortified realization of my actions and ripped my hand back off. Too embarrassed to comment on it I’d redirected my focus to making eggs in the other pan hoping he wouldn’t mention it.

I cooked in silence for a little while until I felt as if I was being watched. Hesitantly I turned my gaze to Peter and surely enough was met with him staring right back at me. He looked to be deep in thought until I caught him when his lips curled into an arrogant grin. “Oh no no no, are you kidding me? You’re tellin’ me you can’t even cook eggs either? What can you do?” He provoked in amusement making me roll my eyes.

I waved my hands in the air in defeat. “Fine! You do it yourself then.” I stepped aside from the counter and began to walk away until I felt a warm hand take a light grip on my forearm and pull me backward. I stumbled back to my position in front of the pan where Peter was beside me holding my arm.

“Relax,” he soothed while slowly inching closer, it almost seemed like he was hoping his movements were slow enough for me not to notice. “You’re not gonna get any better with that attitude,” he continued, his hands slowly brushing my hips while I was too distracted listening to what he was saying. He moved cautiously almost trying to catch me in the distraction. “So much attitude all the time,”

I scoffed at his comment. “Attitude? I don’t have attitude, you’re the one who’s always moping around making little comments at everything.” his fingers now wrapped around my waist as he stood behind me, his breath tickling my shoulder.

“Let me show you,” he furthered, completely ignoring what I’d said and going on with his own point.

I’d attempted at pushing his hands off me. “No, I don’t need your help Peter,”

He stood there his grip strong as he looked down at me with a little ‘huh’. After the death glare I’d given he kindly explained the cause of the sound. “You called me Peter,” he pointed out with a grin.

I felt taken off guard at that comment and honestly a little flustered. I always made it a point to call him by his last name, I felt that first names were for people I respected. Why did that slip so easily? “I was just distracted…” I trailed avoiding his gaze and looking back to the pan. “Are we gonna cook the eggs or not?” I redirected the conversation away from the tension as I didn’t know how to react. My heart fluttered at his proximity but my mind reminds me of our dynamic. We’ve never got along let alone been close in this way.

He took my cue to move on and eagerly grabbed the spatula, handed it to me then paused and hesitantly slipped his hand on the back of my own. His other hand rested on my waist still as he guided the cooking. “It’s all about the wrist” he spoke softly.

I let out a breathe as I stood stiffly. I wasn’t sure what to do with this but I didn’t hate it. In fact it was quite the opposite. “This isn’t going to help you get over Gamora,” I bluntly stated without really thinking about it. I didn’t intend on being rude and my tone pushed that. Truth is that must’ve been an insecurity festered up. He’s a flirt and I can’t be his distraction.

He was silent for a moment but his position didn’t budge. “Why are you always so quick to push me away?” He quietly asked sincerely. He seemed hurt which was the last thing I expected from him. Was I reading our dynamic wrong? I couldn’t have been I mean we fight constantly.

“I don’t-“

“Don’t.” He interrupted. “Be real with me, just this one time,” he took the spatula from my hand and placed it on the table before grabbing the hand back again and bringing it to my waist to hold there. “What can I do to fix you and me?”

I didn’t know how to respond to that whatsoever because I didn’t know what that meant. You and me. As in no more arguing? As in becoming friends? As in something more? It doesn’t help that Peter is known for his flirting. “I-“ I sighed. “What do you mean?” I felt myself submitting to his touch as my body relaxed against his.

“Last weekend, we’re sitting on the couch. My arm was up around the top of it and if I moved it down just a little bit it would’ve literally been around your shoulder. Everything’s fine we’re all watching a movie, and I make a bad joke about your favorite character because I think it’s cute when you’re mad and you storm off cursing at me.” I couldn’t see the point he was pushing for but found myself blushing at the compliment. “Can’t you tell I do those things to get close to you? We don’t talk what so ever and the most I get from you is if I pull it out of you by making a dumb comment,” he explained his head now stooped closer to my shoulder, resting slightly against the side of my face and neck. “I know I can be childish, or a jerk but I don’t know what else to do when all I want to do is talk to you,”

“Oh really?” I perked up a little bit ready to make my point taking a step away from Peter. “What about the time we were here drinking and you made a comment about how I was ‘acting different to impress people’? How romantic,” I poked feeling his logic start to crumble.

He let out a huff. “You’re not remembering that the way I am and yeah I shouldn’t have said that but you spent the entire night all over that xandarian guy,” he expressed stepping forward to grab my hand and pull me back in. “You know how much I wanted to punch that dude straight in the jaw every time he touched you? Why should he get to kiss you?” He seemed to be getting offended just remembering the night, and honestly a little heated.

“Peter,” I softly tried to intercept.

“No, I’ve been here this entire time. For years it’s been me here with you, we go on missions, we’ve explored new planets, had ups and downs, and I have to sit there and watch some guy kiss you? Some guy who just came along that same day, put no effort into his relationship with you and got you,” he rambled on with pain in his eyes. I hadn’t seen him show that much emotion over someone since gamora. “It’s not fair,”

I felt horrible for not seeing this sooner. I couldn’t help but rethink everything but at the same time he definitely went about this in the wrong way to get my attention. He got it alright but it was never good. To me he was just constantly nitpicking me and all the things I liked and it drove me crazy. I guess that’s the fault in miscommunication. A lot of the stuff was pretty dumb to get genuinely mad at, often he’d just tease my favorite movies or comment on my fighting skills. Nonetheless in this moment I felt truly sad for him. “I didn’t know…” he was focused very intently on every word I said and I could just tell the anticipation anxiety was eating him up. In reality this was a confession of his feelings. “If I would’ve known…” I trialed off not wanting to press further as I’ve never been very good at expressing my feelings.

“If you would’ve known then what?” He softly nudged me to continue. He took our interlocked hands and held it on his chest.

“I don’t know, things would’ve been different. I didn’t know that’s how you felt I just thought you hated me honestly,” I admitted awkwardly.

He exhaled with a frown. “I could never hate you, and that mission…“ he got softer watching my expression because he knew this topic was sore for me. “It didn’t matter to me that we failed, all I could think about was how I could’ve lost you,” he admitted keeping eye contact as he spoke. “I can’t lose anyone else, and I just miss what we used to be like.”

This confused me as what he’s referencing is our friendship back when he was with Gamora. Is he trying to say he wants to be friends or is he being romantic? He’s so hard to read sometimes, but his actions are telling me romance. Clearly he could see the confusion etched on my face because he clarified all my questions without ever having to hear them. “You know, how close we were. Cracking jokes, playing pranks on the rest of them,” he explained. “I want that. But… something a little different…” he seemed a little more awkward now like he didn’t know how to word what he felt.

“How different?” I asked feeling my heart pick up just a little bit. Perhaps MAYBE the reason I got so mad at everything Peter did was because MAYBE I valued his opinion, because MAYBE I was sort of always secretly into him.

He perked up at the question surprised I hadn’t shot it down right then and there. “Well,” he started while taking my hand and giving me a dramatic twirl. The guy is smooth. “Maybe a little romance, I’m thinking Jim and Pam,” he referenced my favorite Earth show as I’ve forced him to watch it after our trip there.

A mischievous smile found my lips at that. “Ohhhh, so someone was lying about not liking the show?” I teased in a ‘I told you so’ kinda way.

He chuckled at my call out. “I told ya Y/N, I just love to mess with you.”

“Hmm, fine but you have to watch rom coms with me,” I laid out my terms matter of factly.

His eyes widened. “Fine? Fine what? Fine to the romance?” He double checked as I hadn’t made myself all that clear.

“I GUESS,” I dramatically excepted in a fake disinterested tone.

“Well then Mrs. Y/N” he pulled me into him yet again wrapping his arms around my torso, though this time I let my hands rest on his chest. “I’m gonna romance the shit outta you,” he grinned that same cocky little grin that used to make me wanna smack him.

I rolled my eyes at his over confidence but was thrown off at him leaning in closer to me. I couldn’t find anything sassy or witty to remark because now all my focus was on the fact that Peter Quill’s lips were so close to mine. The lips of always secretly wanted to kiss. I let out a breath feeling the tension before he’d made the move to fully go in. He kissed me softly, and slowly. His hand cupped my cheek and when he pulled away he gave a real genuine smile.

“You’ve gotta be shittin’ me” rocket yelled out from the doorway next to a very shocked Nebula.

“I give them a week tops,” she jokingly murmured but I could tell she was genuinely happy for us.

Rocket groaned from his place clearly fed up with the fact that he’d suffered through our bickering just for us to end up into each other. “If I’d known all you two jackasses needed to do was bang it out- WHY ARE THE EGGS BLACK?” He ran over to the stove to turn off the switch as if that would save the already far gone breakfast. “that’s TWO breakfasts down the drain, that’s it! I’m done! We’re getting fast food from knowhere,” he flailed his hands in the air and walked out of the room in defeat making the rest of us chuckle.

“I’m glad you two figured it out finally,” Nebula gave a small smile. “Really thought you were blind,” she dryly joked.

Peter and I looked at each other in confusion for a moment before smiling and accepting the fact that apparently we’d been obvious about our unknown feelings. With that she left the room to follow Rocket to the controls of the ship to fly us all to knowhere. This left Peter and I alone once more, he stared down at me in amusement. “I knew you were into me.”

I fought the urge to roll my eyes for the millionth time, slipped my fingers into his and dragged him out to the main area of the ship preparing for the rest of the teams reactions.

—————

My first Peter Quill fan fic! Sorta rushed so I apologize for any errors! Let me know if I should make more!

#peter quill #enemies to lovers #peter quill x reader #gotg fanfiction #peter quill fanfic #peter quill x yn #starlord #starlord x reader #starlord fanfic #the guardians of the galaxy

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sh4wty18 · 21 days ago

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fanfic of jake where reader and him are dating but no one knows until a fan spots them in public one night and posted it on instagram. Then people start talking about how obvious jake and reader made it in the videos and everybody just loves them. can be smut or not, i don’t care!!

everybody talks.

pairing: jake webber x reader.

summary: a little different from the request, but same general idea. no smut.

cw: light angst to fluff, language, nothing else!

word count: tbd + not proofread lol

jnjluvr12

liked by forwebbersss, ynluvbot_, and 53,762 others

jnjluvr12 i saw jake and y/n walking from somewhere to a 7/11 near my neighborhood last night!! the pic is blurry but plz trust me that it’s them. i went into the 7/11 after and saw them kiss🫣🫣

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jakes.noname i believe u i mean we all know they’re tg lmao

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forwebbersss omg theyre so cute whatttt i hope they go public soon

❤️ by author

ynluvbot_ they’re so cute but u should prob delete this. if they haven’t told us about their relationship they probably don’t want pics of them leaked on insta😭

—

“Shit,” you breathe out as you see the post someone had made on instagram, completely exposing your and Jake’s relationship.

You screenshot the post, texting it to Jake with the message have u seen this??

He responds almost immediately, yes and im coming over <33

You roll over in your bed, fully prepared to doom scroll and read every single comment on the post until your boyfriend arrives at your place.

That is until he texts you, you better not be doom scrolling when i get there lol

You smile, tossing your phone to the side and folding your arms across your chest, staring up at the ceiling in a quite uncomfortable silence. Thoughts cloud your mind, spinning out of control about what people would think. How did that fan find you? Were you really that obvious? Would this make it easier for more pictures of the two of you to be leaked? But most importantly, was Jake okay?

You’d seen how people reacted to his previous flings. But you weren’t a fling. You were the real deal. And that made you both even more vulnerable. This wasn’t the first time his potential relationship status had gotten leaked by fans. You scoff, some fans they were. You couldn’t help but feel an ache in your chest that Jake had to suffer through this fate again. Another part of you couldn’t help but wonder, was being with you even worth it?

Suddenly you hear a knock at the door to your apartment. You smile at the thought of Jake respecting you enough to knock first, even though you’d given each other copy keys months ago. You roll out of bed and open the front door, and immediately you are met with your boyfriend scooping you into his arms.

You wrap your legs around his waist, and he holds you stable, one arm tightly wrapped behind your lower back, and the other on your ass. He kisses you, kicking the door shut behind him as he carries you down the hall and back into your bedroom. He sets you down, allowing you to get comfortable in bed, cozied up under piles of blankets. Then, he climbs into bed after you, opening his arms to you so that you can lay on top of him. You rest your head against his chest and listen to the beat of his heart. It calms you. It always does.

He softly traces lines across your back in the comforting way he does when he knows you’re anxious. “You okay, baby?” he asks in a hushed tone.

“No,” you whisper, fighting the tears that threaten to drip onto his t-shirt. “It’s always something. Why can’t they just let us be happy? Let you be happy?”

Jake swallows, fighting the lump that’s forming in his own throat. “I don’t know…” he trails off for a second. “This is how it always is. I guess… it’s just part of the job.”

“Our relationship was supposed to be public when we wanted it to be, not when some random person decided it should be. It’s not fair. It’s like they forget that we’re people too.” You let the tears start to run, it was no use trying to ward them off anymore.

“Hey, the picture doesn’t even show our faces. We could say it’s fake, or deny it. Or we could just ignore it.” Jake tries to comfort you but it’s no use. He kisses the top of your head and holds you tighter.

“You don’t deserve this, you’ve been through enough. Maybe… us getting together was—”

“Don’t finish that sentence, Y/n,” he stops rubbing your back and sits you both up so you’re facing each other. He reaches out and grabs your face in both of his hands. “Being with you is the best thing that’s happened to me in a long time. They could never make me think we’re a mistake. You’re not a mistake. Okay?” He shakes you lightly, wanting to make sure you really take in what he’s saying. “What if instead of ignoring it we just confirm their suspicions?” A grin teases the corner of his mouth, and your eyes flick up to meet his gaze.

“No. No, Jake, you wanted us to be private. And I respect that because of your past. You shouldn’t be forced to go public because of this bullshit!”

“Baby, you’re not hearing me.” He pecks you on the mouth, you were always ever the overthinker. “I want us to be public for us. Not for them. I’m proud to call you my girlfriend. Going public now is taking back the power. Taking control before they can go digging for more ‘proof’ that we’re together. Half of them already think we’re dating anyway!”

“What if they hate us?” you ask nervously. Even though your heart is nearly beating out of your chest with excitement. This is all you’ve ever wanted.

Jake scoffs, “Fuck them!”

You giggle, before lunging into his arms again. He practically flies back from the sheer force of you, landing roughly into the pile of pillows behind his head. His arms wrap around you and yours around him, as if you’re trying to tie your souls together from the outside in. Your lips graze across his cheek, down his jawline and chin, until you finally make contact with his mouth. His cold piercings press into your lips as you kiss him sloppily, one hand tangling into his dark, dye-damaged hair. He rolls on top of you, propping himself up on one hand as he stares down at you, his beautiful girl.

“I love you,” he says. “I always will.”

—

jakewebber9 with yourusername

liked by yourusername, tarayummyy, carringtonusa and 387,903 others

jakewebber9 u caught us

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yourusername mine !!!

jakewebber9 ANGEL!!

tarayummyy precious 🥲

yourusername love u bbg <3

johnnieguilbert happy for u guys 🖤

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hope you enjoyed n lmk what u think!

pics from pinterest ; divider from @fairytopea

#sh4wty18 #original fiction #jake webber #original one shot #one shot #fluff #angst #jake webber x reader #jake webber one shots #jake webber fic #jake webber fluff #jake webber x fem!reader #jake webber fanfic #jake webber fanfiction

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mandalhoerian · 2 years ago

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lamb to the slaughter | leon kennedy x reader

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

🌀 read on ao3!

Leon comes back from Spain a bit different.

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

A pattern has been broken.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No, it’s fine—”

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

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

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

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

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

You fold.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What are you talking about—?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I apparently should have.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Because I can’t.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Love him for coming back.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Love. He said love.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fucking hell.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sit on my face.”

You blink a couple times. “What?”

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

“Will you be alright—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He does not give you one single break.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m gonna— Leo–n, please, please—!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“‘m not doin’ ‘nything…”

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

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

“Yeah, I mean—”

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

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

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

“I don’t need glasses.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

How is he so sure!

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

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

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

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

You fucking squirted.

Didn’t even know you could do that.

He made you because he was jealous.

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

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

You’re too sleepy for this.

You’re dreaming that you’re Leon.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah..?”

“I’ve shared it with you.”

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

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

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

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

Well.

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

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

“Time for what?”

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

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

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

Why the hell is there a stranger in your room?

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

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

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

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

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

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

This isn’t a prank.

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

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

Huh.

Huh?

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

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

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

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

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

“Can’t we just—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh what the fuck.

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

There’s blood when you remove your hand.

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

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

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

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

“I want to go home. I want to leave.”

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

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

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

“What.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Who are you?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You decide to go with him and see where this path leads, you have nothing better to do, can’t see any way out of this.

He motions for you to follow him, leading you through a concealed passage that winds its way beneath the labyrinthine corridors of the cult's stronghold — a castle, as you’re shocked to take in. The path is bleak, the air heavy with a musty scent, but you push forward, driven by pure survival instinct to get away to safety.

Luis starts explaining not too much into your journey, hushed, he has all the answers you needed in the first place, quick to the point. "Las Plagas are ancient organisms with a malevolent sentience. They infest and control their hosts, erode their will and sanity. They were made to be… weapons to be harnessed by Los Illuminados. Those who succumb to it become pawns of their leader, Saddler, carry out his agenda. Slaves to his will. They don’t have their minds intact, just flesh prisons to obey his orders."

Your first thought is of Leon, the horrible sinking feeling unspun in your stomach.

Luis knows what you’re thinking. “Leon… and his buddy Krauser are exceptions. They possess what’s called the superior species, newly engineered.” He raises his eyebrows and tilts his head at the same time, like he’s contemplating a good business deal. “That means free will. To a degree. Their parasites are connected to Saddler, so their bodies can be controlled, but not their minds. Not entirely. They’re not like the inferior ganados. That’s why he was able to seek you out with his own volition.”

The realization that Leon is trapped within this nightmare strikes you like a blow, your heart sinking with each passing moment. "He isn't controlled?" you inquire, hope blossoming in your chest. "Can you save him too?"

Luis's response is filled with regret, his eyes reflecting a sorrowful truth. "I'm afraid he's beyond saving," he confesses. "The procedure I have can only remove newly hatched eggs, and Leon... well, he's already been consumed by this darkness."

The words reverberate through your mind, the horror of the situation fraying your soul. "But... I can't just abandon him!" you protest, determination and anguish trying to overpower one another.

"You'll be gone forever too if you don't," Luis warns. "It's now or never. If you hesitate, if he catches even a hint of your trail, it will be over."

“You said you were helping me because he told you to.”

“Before he was lost, yes, he made a final wish.” Luis softens, and you realize he’s grieving, too. “He told me to take you as far away as possible from him if he ever were to try and get you involved in this mess. Because he would never do that to you in his right mind, so he said. A total romantic underneath all that ice, eh?”

He would never do that to you in his right mind…

You flash back to three days ago, to his words, to how he said he loved you, all his adoring, the broken dam of affection and how he didn’t hold back anymore.

He wouldn’t have decided to go through with opening up to you like that had it not been for the parasite’s influence?

Uncertainty dangles heavy as you fight with the bitter reality you thought was a dream come true, the heart-wrenching realization that the man you love has been ensnared by the very darkness he sought to protect you from — that only giving into it broke his control of keeping away from you emotionally.

Regret etches itself onto Luis's face as he observes your inner turmoil. "I'm truly sorry, Princesita," he offers with empathy.

The moment hangs suspended, an agonizing choice looming before you, as you weigh the love you hold for Leon against the desperate need to escape the clutches of this cult.

You don’t want to leave Leon, even when there’s something clearly wrong with him that can’t be fixed, but on the other hand…

“Can you honestly tell me he isn’t the man I know?”

“He is less and more.” His tentativeness bleeds into the clearest possible simplification he’s able to give you.. “But isn’t the same.”

“So what do we do? What should I do?”

You still cannot wrap your head around your whole world flipping upside down, can’t comprehend you have to leave Leon behind, you barely processed him being an agent. You’re stalling. Hesitating. And deep down in your heart, you know why. It’s because you don’t want to go.

Leon is still Leon.

But you’re terrified.

"The choice is ultimately yours to make. But I implore you to consider your own well-being and the chance to break free. I know that’s what he truly wanted."

“I—”

But as you open your mouth to respond, a sudden, excruciating pain shoots through your head, causing you to cry out in agony. It feels as if someone has driven a searing spike into your skull, rendering you momentarily incapacitated. Your body crumples, and you find yourself on your knees, clutching your head, desperately trying to block out the piercing ringing in your ears.

Amidst the torment, your consciousness is abruptly whisked away, transported to an ethereal realm. It is a dream-like state, observing the world through the lens of another's mind. The golden chandeliers cast a cascade of shimmering light upon turning corners and ornate doors, as the person you are connected to races frantically through the maze-like passages.

The frenzied movement abruptly halts, and your vision pulsates in tandem with the rapid beat of a heart. It’s Leon’s voice echoing through the recesses of your mind, a hidden depth of anger and desperation at the heart of his control. "I feel you," he utters, a slight tremble of heartbreak. "You're in here. I know you're listening. Where are you? Why did you leave?"

Realization dawns upon you, a profound understanding that you are inhabiting Leon's thoughts, sharing his fears and confusion. The sheer intensity of the experience overwhelms you, and you cry out, "No, make it stop!" Your consciousness briefly returns to the physical realm, tears streaming down your face, the pain of the connection too much to bear. "It hurts!"

The ethereal realm engulfs you once more, Leon's emotional turmoil swirling around you. His voice billows with remorse and longing. "It might... Things might have escalated a bit too quickly," he confesses, his tone laden with regret. "It's my fault, I got too cocky, too impatient. But I never wanted to scare you off. I only ever wanted to keep you safe. You have to trust me and open your eyes so I can do that, sweet girl, okay? I'll come get you. We’ll talk it out. You can’t run."

Confusion intertwines with the pain coursing through your being. Leon's words perplex you, as if there is a hidden meaning beneath his pleas. "My eyes?" you utter, the question hanging, unanswered.

Luis gets so loud that you’re brought back to your location for a split second. “Shit. Do not open your eyes!”

Leon hears what he says somehow — and it suddenly comes to you that if you’re in his head, he is also in your head. “Luis. I should have known.”

You feel a sharp pinch at the side of your neck that cannot even compete with the tremendous headache, and the vision begins to crumble, Leon getting fainter — his presence fading away, the last you hear of him is a furious and equally anguished, “Goddamnit, no!” before everything goes black.

Luis detects the stirring of your consciousness before you do, and as your awareness is brought back from the dormant state you were in, he calls to you in the darkness surrounding everything. “Don’t open your eyes yet.”

You shift around, feeling the coolness of a rough surface against your back and the firmness of the stone floor beneath you. The silence is broken by a peculiar sound—an unsettling symphony of metallic echoes. Chains. Accompanied by Luis’ feet shuffling around, they slither across the ground, you can almost envision their length, extending and coiling, like serpents of iron, their echoes intertwine, creating an eerie melody because you can’t see them.

“What are you doing?”

Luis's response is calm and purposeful. "Setting the scene," he explains. The sound of nails being hammered into stone with an underlying jingle punctuates his words, causing you to jump in surprise. "For Lancelot seeking his Guinevere."

The pieces start to come together, albeit slowly. "You want to trap him," you realize.

Luis acknowledges your understanding. "Wonderful, Princesita," he praises. "You catch on fast. Leon is connected to you somehow, and we can't progress if he sees through your eyes. So, we need to create an illusion."

Confusion and concern overflow as you question the feasibility of their plan. "But Leon is... He could be listening right now."

Luis dismisses your worries. "Do you feel that he is sharing your head at the moment?" he asks. The uncertainty in your response betrays your lack of knowledge. "Ey, you'd know," he asserts. "That means he isn't present. Perfect."

Doubts linger in your mind as you consider the risks. "Will it work? He's... well, I recently learned he's an agent. I don't think it'll be easy."

"Whose side are you on?" he teases, playful. But when he senses your unease, he quickly reassures you. "No worries, I get it. He's better with the ladies, I've learned."

You can't help but feel a pang of guilt. "Luis..."

He brushes off your concerns with understanding. "I'm almost done here. He's supposed to think you're alone, so you can't look at me when I tell you to open your eyes. I'll be hiding. Don't talk to me, don't acknowledge me, just wait."

Curiosity gets the better of you as you ask, "How are you going to..."

Luis's response is concise and determined. "It won’t be me who’s doing it. It will be you. I will be your distraction.” You hear his footsteps approaching, and something small but heavy being placed on the floor just beside you, hidden from your line of sight. “You’ll hide when he arrives, and when the time comes, I want you to shoot. Don’t worry, it’s a tranquilizer gun. Wish me luck so he won’t kill me on sight, eh?”

It doesn’t take long for him to signal you.

You open your eyes, the darkness giving way to dimly lit surroundings. The scene before you is carefully arranged, meticulously designed to deceive. The chains that previously echoed through the room now come into view, hanging ominously from the winch on the ceiling, you follow the line with your eyes to see the other end is secured to the stone wall by a circle of nails. The clinks and clanks reverberate, amplifying the tension.

Luis is nowhere to be seen, but his presence lingers, a silent reassurance that you're not alone.

In the deafening silence, doubt gnaws at you, and you question the madness of your current circumstances.

You’re unsure of what you truly desire, unable to look over how you really just found yourself going along with Luis's plan, not because it feels right, but because your mind is clouded, unable to think clearly. You feel like a reluctant child, accepting the path laid before you simply because it seems to be the only option available.

Uncertainty presses heavily upon you as you contemplate the impending encounter with Leon. Fear grips your thoughts, entwining with the deep-rooted emotions you still harbor for him. Despite the revelations and warnings about his true nature, your heart remains entangled in a web of love and trust, the idea of seeing him again evokes a conflicting mishmash of longing and apprehension.

You find yourself yearning for his presence, against the knowledge that he is not the same person you once knew when the mere thought of his return conjures a happy expectation of hope within you, a desperate desire to be whisked away from the nightmarish reality that has unfolded — deep, deep down, you pine for him to be the savior, the one who can shield you from the horrors of this supernatural ordeal he inflicted upon you himself.

Yet, simultaneous fear engulfs your soul, you question your own liability, knowing that you still trust him, still harbor the potential to be swayed by his words and actions. The thought terrifies you, the notion that you might have readily agreed to his plans had he presented them differently, had he explained the sinister truth of the parasite in a more inviting manner. It's a terrifying realization, the awareness of your own susceptibility to his influence, and despite everything, he’s the only anchor you can hold on to not be swept away into that chaos.

You want him to enter the room, to make everything right again, tell you all of this is a nightmare you made up in your head because in the real world you still miss him, and at the same time you also fear what his arrival may entail.

As if attuned to your thoughts, a prickle in your mind disrupts your musings—a subtle trickle of awareness, the sensation of being watched by an invisible presence sharing the same space as you.

So you wait, your heart pounding in your chest, the weight of the impending confrontation with Leon bearing down on you. Every second feels like an eternity as you strain to listen for any sign of his approach. The air grows heavy with anticipation, and your senses are on high alert.

Suddenly, a noise echoes through the chamber, a faint, careful creak of a door opening. Your breath catches in your throat, he was so deadly silent infiltrating the building this basement is in, and you scramble to crouch and hide behind stacked boxes facing his direction, praying to god he hasn’t heard you.

His eyes search the room in a hardened gaze, a mask of determination, scanning every corner, every shadow with professional coldness.

Leon cuts through the silence, as if he’s been hurt by you somehow. "Come on, I know you’re here, you don’t need to hide from me, I’m just here to talk.. Don’t be afraid of me.”

Your heart aches at the sound of his voice, you fight back tears, reminding yourself that this is necessary, for both his sake and your own — you can’t crumble right now, absolutely dreading what actually hearing him out would do to you.

Luis emerges from where he’s hiding, unknowingly coming to your rescue, stepping forward with calculated confidence. "Looking for someone, Leon?" he asks, dripping amused intrigue.

"Where is she?" Leon demands, and you’ve never heard him like that before — that bone-chillingly cold and intimidating, menacing, low tone is downright terrifying.

“Not even a hola for your old friend?”

Leon fucking pulls a gun on him and your heart jumps to your throat. “Where. is. she?”

Luis raises his hands in a placating gesture, a sly smile playing on his lips. "No need for violence, my friend. I'm here to help."

Leon's grip on his weapon tightens, his suspicion evident. "I don’t need your help anymore. Tell me where she is."

Luis chuckles softly with a trace of mischief. "Ah, the stubbornness of a man in love. But I'm afraid your Princesita is in another castle."

Anger flashes in Leon's eyes, his frustration mounting. "Don’t bullshit me Luis, I know she’s here. What are you up to?"

Luis takes a step closer, sympathetic as much as he’s purposeful. "I've done what you asked of me. She's safer without you."

Leon's face contorts with disbelief and fury, threatening to consume him. "Safer? You have no idea what you’re talking about. There is no safer place on earth right now than by my side. The world's about to go shit. The President is down, and the impending mass vaccination is nothing but a precursor to chaos. Do you think this is some deranged lover’s obsession? No."

With hopeless resoluteness, Leon continues to pour out his frustrations and fears. "Someone, be it the WHO, Terrasave, or the BSAA, someone will eventually expose the truth about the parasite spreading through medicines. And when that happens, all hell will break loose — do you understand the scale of what I’m talking about? The illusion of a smooth and controlled resolution is nothing more than a lie, and we both damn well know it."

Emotions wash over Leon, leaving him vehement and exposed, self-deprecating, raw. "I may have failed in my mission, and I may have failed everyone, but I refuse to let her become a mindless puppet like those villagers and cultists. I won't let her perish chasing scope after scope for news articles that’ll get her killed. She's all I have left." His voice quivers with a defeated tenacity and desperation, he shakes his gun at Luis. "So yes, I made a choice. It's the right one. It's the only one. A choice where I can be with her, where she can stay safe. A choice where I become the monster, but I can’t care less about the consequences anymore. So, get out of my way, Luis, and take that getaway chopper of Ada's while I'm still giving you the chance. That a good deal?"

“What happens when Saddler loses?” Luis sighs through his nose, totally unaffected by all that talk. “What happens if you die on that hill?”

His question lingers for a moment before Leon responds, less baleful and more mournful, even accompanied with a strange sense of happiness. "I know the end. As long as I get to die in her arms, it doesn't matter."

In that instant, something within you snaps. The anguished anger and the raw empathy you feel for Leon flow through your veins, overpowering any rational thought. Without hesitation, you make a decision that feels both natural and inevitable — to shoot the tranquilizer.

You pull the trigger, the dart finding its mark with an unsettling precision, and time slows as you watch it puncture his skin, him flinching with a hand clamping around the dart and yanking it out, his wide, red eyes finding yours as you stand up, the realization dawning in his eyes.

You want to cry when it’s relief and happiness that comes first to him upon seeing you as if on instinct, and confusion and hurt wash over his features next as he sees what’s in your hands. It's a sight that cuts through your heart. He staggers, toward you, his body fighting against the encroaching numbness, as if defying the very fate that befalls him. With outstretched arms, he reaches for you, fingers trembling, yearning for connection amidst the sense of betrayal.

Yet, despite his desperate efforts, his strength fails him. His legs give way beneath him, and he tumbles to the ground, his reach falling short. You watch, your heart splitting in two, as he crumples in a heap of confusion. His fingers graze at where your presence is, a touch that never finds its mark.

In the waning moments before unconsciousness claims him, his eyes search yours, pleading for answers that you struggle to provide. You stand rooted to the spot, grappling with guilt and anguish, questioning the validity of your actions, second-guessing the choices that have led to this heartbreaking scene.

As Leon finally succumbs to the claim of the tranquilizer, his body surrendering to the oblivion of unconsciousness, you're left with your final commitment, crystal clear.

Your heart was set on this from the start. You were just too scared to admit it.

You’ll stay with him in this darkness.

Leon’s all alone here, knows he’s doomed by the narrative, can’t leave — and all he thought throughout that was you and what would happen to you.

You can’t leave this man in the solitude of tragedy, with the first ever selfishness of his was seeking you out despite himself to protect you. No moment has solidified his love for you more than this. How he thinks of you tremendously.

You can’t not love this man. You can’t bring yourself to obey his wishes and abandon him.

The lamb doesn’t want to leave the slaughterhouse.

With a heavy yet determined tone, you utter the words that seal your fate. "Go, Luis."

Luis protests, filled with concern and a touch of reluctance. "You can’t—"

Tears well up in your eyes as you gaze at Leon's unconscious form, lying helpless on the cold ground. The depth of your emotions overwhelms you, but you gather your resolve. "I can't abandon him now. Not after everything he's been through. He needs someone by his side."

Luis hesitates, torn between honoring your wishes and his genuine concern for your well-being, making a final attempt to persuade you. "I understand your heartache, but you're risking everything for him. Are you sure about this? There's so much at stake — you’ll become just like him, you know? You’ll never be able to leave Los Illuminados and go back to your old life."

“You don’t get it do you? It’s true that I'm scared, Luis. Scared of what lies ahead, the stuff you’ve talked about is straight out of a dystopian novel. But I'm more scared of losing him in all of this.” It haunts you how he said it doesn’t matter if he gets to die in your arms, no regard for his own well-being and health. Leon has never cared for himself enough, that much you know, but to think his entire system has collapsed like this, to the point where he’s let himself go entirely and came to you while wounded… It’s something you can’t turn a blind eye to. A cry for help you can’t ignore. “He looked for me in this chaos. Underneath all of the excuses of protection, Leon’s just scared. He doesn’t want to be alone.” You can’t look away now that you’ve seen everything. “I can’t go back anyway after knowing this. I’d never forgive myself. It's better to face whatever’s coming with him, no matter what horrors it holds.”

“There’s absolutely nothing I can do to change your mind?”

The fact that he’s set on doing this and looking out for you until the last second because he has promised Leon and is truly concerned warms your heart up. “You really should catch that ride before it’s too late.”

“You’re making a mistake.” His concern mingles with a touch of admiration for your unwavering will. “But he’s hell of a lucky bastard to have you by his side throughout it all. This is the sacrifice of your life, I’m not joking. And I hope it’ll be worth it.”

He’s not like you, and that’s okay. You actually admire and envy his sense of self-preservation overweighs his loyalty and promise to Leon, that’s how a normal person should be. But the situation is far from normal, and you’re infected by a mind-altering parasite for fuck’s sake, and you’re not even sure you’re going through the quarter of what Leon has.

“Thank you Luis.” Touched by his understanding, you reach out and take Luis's hand, gratitude shining through. “For everything.”

A somber atmosphere settles in the room as Luis grows more melancholic. He takes a deep breath before making his final request. "Before I go, there's one last thing I want to ask. Considering we don't know how he’ll react when he wakes up, I think it's best to be cautious. We should chain him up, just to be safe. I don't want him accidentally hurting you in his confused state."

You hesitate, unsure about the idea of restraining Leon, but Luis's earnestness compels you to consider it. "I don't think he would ever harm me..."

Luis interrupts gently. "Oye, let me worry about that, Las Plagas is unpredictable and dangerous. Do me this favor, it’s the least you can do to pay me back, yeah? A little caution won't hurt. And if Leon questions it, you can blame me. I can handle it from a safe distance out of his reach in the comfort of my luxury ride."

With Luis's words echoing in your mind, both of you set to work, struggling like you’re trying to roll a boulder up a hill with the weight of Leon's unconscious body. The effort is tremendous, sweat pouring down your faces as you maneuver his unexpectedly heavy frame.

Exhausted from the strenuous task, Luis hands you the key, his face flushed with exertion as you finally finish securing Leon in chains. The room is filled with a heavy silence, punctuated only by the sound of your own labored breaths.

As the unvoiced question of what happens now makes itself known between you two, caught in the tension between Luis’ desire to stay and the necessity of his departure. His words come out disconnected, hesitant, obviously having an awkwardness that comes from bidding farewell under such circumstances. "Well..." he begins, trailing off as he struggles to find the right words. "It was a pleasure to know you, Princesita." His smile is half-hearted, betraying the mixed emotions within him. "I hope we never have to meet again."

The unexpected humor in his remark catches you off guard, and a genuine laugh escapes your lips, the sound reverberating through the room, mingling with the faint clinking of the chains as Leon stirs behind you, his presence a constant reminder of what you’ve decided to get yourself into.

Luis's insistence breaks through the brief moment of levity as he implores you, his eyes flicking between you and Leon's kneeling form. "Take care of him," he urges, a sense of responsibility coloring his words. "And yourself."

You offer him a reassuring smile, endlessly thankful for his guidance in getting you to realize Leon’s perspective. "Will do. You too, Luis," you respond, nothing but warmth in your heart for him as you acknowledge his efforts. "Don't feel bad about not being able to help us, please? You've done all you can."

He nods once, his features a blend of bittersweet defeat and acceptance. With a final glance, he retreats into the shadows, his presence fading away. The room feels emptier without him, and sadness washes over you, a stab of guilt for potentially failing him now that you are left alone with your thoughts and the finality of the decision you have made.

The room remains shrouded in an eerie silence, broken only by the faint sound of Leon's steady breaths and the gentle rattling of the chains that bind him.

Your gaze inevitably falls upon him, bound and unconscious before you.

The sight of him, held captive by the chains, elicits strange emotions that defy explanation. There is an undeniable allure that emanates from his restrained form, drawing you in despite the chaos that surrounds you. It is a conflicting blend of fascination and revulsion, a cocktail of sensations that confound your senses. You should be consumed by panic, overwhelmed by the dire circumstances and the looming threat of the parasite within you. Yet, in this moment, a strange calm settles within your being. Is it the influence of the parasite that dulls your anxieties, or is it a resolute acceptance of the path you have chosen?

Despite the restraints that hold him captive, there is an undeniable attractiveness that surrounds him, gluing your eyes to the sight before you.

Kneeling on the floor, Leon’s muscular physique is accentuated by the susceptible position he finds himself in, the chains tightly holding his wrists above his head, rendering him defenseless and at your mercy. His sculpted arms, stretched taut and slightly strained, display the evidence of his strength even in his helpless state, veins beneath his skin appear more pronounced, as if awakened by the touch of captivity and the strain of gravity. His tousled locks of blond hair cling to his forehead and darken in shade where they meet with sweat, adding to his prettiness. Even in his unconsciousness, there is a magnetism that emanates from his chiseled features — strong jawline, cheekbones, and glistening lips that have known both determination and tenderness. The pinch of his eyebrows low over his eyes adds a touch of rugged toughness, contrasting with the vulnerability imposed upon him by the chains. His chest rises and falls rhythmically, betraying the calmness of his unconscious state. Light and shadow dance across his defined torso, revealing the slopes and curves that bear witness to his physical prowess.

It is an unintended pull that arises from the juxtaposition of strength and exposure, dominance and surrender. The image of Leon bound and kneeling, his arms raised and secured by the unyielding chains, creates a powerful visual dichotomy — a captivating blend of control and submitting, strength and fragility.

You didn’t know you were into BDSM. Is this what it is? Why the hell does he look so mouth watering in chains to you when there are more dire matters to feel about — you are being a giant pervert about an unconscious man. Sympathy, desire, and protectiveness intertwine, blurring the lines between what is right and what is alluring. In this moment, you are both drawn to his physical presence and compelled to ensure his well-being, torn between the magic of his bound form and the urge to set him free to not let your thoughts run further.

You have no idea how much time passes before Leon's eyes flutter open, blinking away the haze of unconsciousness, and you stand up from where you were sitting, hands clasped before you in an anxious gesture, fearing his reaction. Panic briefly flashes across his face when the drowsiness clears enough for him to notice he’s bound by heavy chains, his arms held aloft and his movements restricted — the harsh tug on the chains makes you jump and that’s how he spots you standing nearby, concern etched on your features.

"You’re okay," Leon breaks the silence, his words a murmured astonishment. It's not a question, nor is it a statement of certainty. It's an observation imbued with gratitude. He's taken aback, as if his mind is struggling to comprehend that you are here with him at all. That’s the first thing he worries about? That’s what he cares about? “You stayed.”

The corner of your lips tugs upward in a soft, bittersweet smile. "Yeah, I did," you reply. The way he looks at you, as if you hold a small piece of his shattered world together, tugs at your heartstrings.

Leon’s more wary and threat-seeking when he brings up the stranger. “Luis?”

You start playing with your fingers. "He left.” A pause. “It was my decision.”

He sits up straighter, like he can’t believe what he’s hearing. “Is… that so?”

It’s so bizarre having a serious conversation with him in chains now that you’re living it. “I’m… I’m sorry for the chains, I, Luis, uh—”

“No, I get it.” He says it like it’s a given and he doesn’t mind it — and that’s when you’re reminded again that he’s a specially trained agent, that’s where the attitude weirdly used to these kinds of things has to come from. “I haven’t given you a reason to trust me.” He gazes at you, his eyes betraying remorsefully hidden emotions, voice dropping down to a low whisper. “Yet you stayed anyway even when I’m like this. I never thought... I never expected anyone would ever, for me… You know.”

Your heart is a soaked towel and he has just wrenched it dry. The way he sees himself physically hurts. "I couldn't leave you, Leon.” You sniffle, head shaking as you confess, revealing your devotion. “I could never leave you."

He reaches out, his restrained hands straining against the chains, as if longing to touch you, to reassure you of his own unwavering devotion. But all he can offer is his words. "That’s all I’ve been terrified of," he admits. It stays unknown to you if the subject of the sentence is you leaving him or you not leaving him. "Ever since I caught myself falling for you, that’s what all this has been about and — this shit inside me amplifies the worst in me, and you’re still here. Damnit.”

Tears well up in your eyes, blurring your vision, but you refuse to let them fall. "Leon, you are not alone in this." You want to kiss away all worries and fears he keeps to himself, now in front of you in all of their intricate, overthought glory. "I made this choice because I believe in you. I believe in us."

His gaze intensifies, searching you for any trace of doubt or unease. But all he finds is unwavering faith, and a love that refuses to be shaken. "I don't deserve you," he murmurs, barely above a whisper. All of a sudden, the tiredness you know all so well pushes down on him. "Not after everything."

A soft smile graces your lips, a gentle warmth spreading through your entire being. Luis is wrong. He is definitely wrong — this is Leon, and he’ll always be Leon. "And I don’t deserve your love." He immediately looks like he’s going to disagree on the spot, but you don’t give him the chance. "But here we are anyway. I'm here, no matter what. I’ve made my choice. If you’ll have me too—"

The tension in his shoulders eases slightly. "I'll do everything in my power to keep you safe," he vows, engraved with purpose. Just the way he says it could be added to a resume, the self-confidence and intentness of a professional in his field behind the power. "I'll prove to you that I can be the person you deserve."

"Leon, I already know the person you are. And I'm not going anywhere."

Leon's widened gaze inflames, breathing becoming more labored as he hangs his head down and nods a couple times while hiding his face from you. “Okay.”

You didn’t expect that to make you burst out laughing, and his head shoots up when he hears your laughter echoing in the chamber. “Sorry,” you cover your mouth, turning around to not let him see and think you’re mocking him. “Sorry, I’m not laughing at you.” You manage to turn it down to snickering, screaming at yourself to stop already. “It’s just… that was so unironically you and… God, help. I don’t know why this is so funny to me—”

“Okay...”

“Stop! Stop saying okay.” You laugh again at his intonation, pushing the back of your hand against your nose. “That’s all you can say?”

Some sort of fascination surfaces beneath his stoic mask, like he’s someone who’s hearing the birds chirp for the first time. “Actually, I have a lot to say, but…” You watch him rise, his height allowing him to hold his chained wrists on his waist level. He reaches out with his shackled hands, beckoning you to come to his side, yearning for a connection, “You’re too far away for it.”

You jokingly tease. “Will you be a good boy?”

It has an immediate effect on him, sweet adoration stains into something suggestive, lingering between you like a charged current, and you can feel the shift in his demeanor, the warning tilt of his head, the faint red shine swallowing the blue of his eyes, the chains rattling as he grabs onto them in a tight, restrained grip, body tensing, a coiled energy barely contained.

As his voice emerges in a single, sharp syllable, a low and husky whisper, “Don’t,” it sends a shiver all over your body. The words are measured, deliberate, and carry an undertow of caution that both entices and warns. It's a dark invitation.

Oh.

It’s not just you.

You’re both fucked up.

And you take a step closer, closing the distance between you, your heart pounding in your chest, and he watches you like a hawk. “I’m just asking a question.”

His eyes glow with an intense crimson hue in response, piercing through the dim light, making you halt when there’s only about five feet left between you and him. Black veins spread across his skin like intricate patterns of ancient curses, marking him up. And extending from his lower back, a large scorpion-like tail emerges, its barbed stinger poised in the air, and just as how the spine is a series of individual vertebrae, small bones stacked one upon the other, his tail too is articulated, allowing it to curl like a snake, curving and undulating with an eerie grace, almost as if it has a life of its own.

It dances through the air, floating towards you, its presence both beguiling and unsettling. You watch, apprehensive and curious, as Leon manipulates his tail, rotating it to show you every angle. As he nudges you gently with it, an unexpected tenderness shines through his alien appearance. "It won't hurt you," he emphasizes, a soothing reassurance. He looks like a creature plucked from the pages of a fantastical novel, but his care for you remains undeniable. "Try touching it."

You observe the chitinous exoskeleton, marveling at its texture and the otherworldly allure it possesses. "Will you feel it?" you ask, a snap of fidget in your curiosity.

Leon's eyes meet yours, a flicker of a mischievous smile playing at the corner of his lips. "That's a dangerous thing to want, don't you think?" His words carry a double meaning, an underlying invitation to explore the depths of desire that lies beneath the surface. In that moment, you realize you've unknowingly become a participant in his intricate game, a delicate dance of discovering boundaries.

"Leon, half-insect or not, I would want every part of you," you confess, unapologetically honest and smoking with desire. A swelling of boldness overtakes you, fueled by a mix of desire and affection. You take a step closer, your hand reaching out to grasp his tail. The texture surprises you—smooth and warm, defying the expectations of a creature born from nightmares. Leon's tail jerks slightly in response to your touch, the connection between you both sending a jolt of static through where you’re touching, and he is momentarily stunned, his ardor momentarily subdued by your unabashed declaration. “I want you, always.”

"Alright, alright. You made your point," he interrupts, a flicker of bashfulness visible beneath his attempt to maintain a composed facade. The teasing spark in his eyes is replaced by a rare sentiment, his emotions laid bare before you. "Well. " Some sort of self-consciousness fogs his expression as he looks down. "Though I do feel the same," he concedes, pink creeping across his cheeks.

But you're not finished. You close the remaining distance between you, your eyes locked with his. "Leon, I love you." You pour your heart into those three words, stronger, unmoving, louder, hoping he understands the depth of your affection if he hasn’t gotten it yet.

He looks away for a brief moment, his gaze fixated on something indiscernible, Adam’s apple bobbing up and down. "Yeah," he mumbles softly, almost lost in the space between you.

Undeterred, you reach out to gently grasp his face, turning his gaze back to meet yours. "I love you," you repeat, scolding him that he’s not taking you seriously. You want him to hear it, to understand the magnitude of your feelings.

A flicker of surprise crosses his features, quickly replaced by something akin to relief, leaning into your touch as if you’re the coolness he needs on a hot summer day. He likes hearing it from you, that much is clear, but the unfamiliarity of the sentiment leaves him momentarily at a loss for words. "Okay," he finally responds, his voice a soft affirmation.

You're about to reprimand him, demanding that he say the words you long to hear in return before you unchain him. But before you can voice your frustration, a sudden wave of dizziness crashes over you, throwing your world into disarray. Your vision blurs, the room spinning and tilting on its axis. You desperately blink, hoping to clear your sight, but the disorientation only worsens. The force of gravity seems to intensify, tugging at your stomach and weakening your legs, causing you to stumble forward. The pain strikes you with a merciless blow, knocking you off balance and into Leon's waiting arms. Your hands, once cradling his face, now find purchase on his shoulders for support.

"Hey!" The weight of your limp body causes Leon to follow you down, sinking to his knees just as you do. However, the chains that bind his arms above his head prevent him from fully supporting your torso. In a swift motion, he maneuvers his tail to secure your body against his, stopping you from falling backward. Your head lolls on his shoulder, basically shaking against him.

"Hang in there, come on," he pleads, trying to reach you. "Talk to me, what's happening?"

Struggling to keep the pain under a manageable level, you reply briefly, not wanting to talk. "I don't know... Felt… dizzy..."

"Shit, okay," he curses softly, his concern deepening. "Does it hurt?"

You just make a curt sound, wanting him to let it go and keep yourself from flopping like a fish out of water on the ground from how it’s ripping you apart.

“I gotta know if it does. Can you tell me?”

You’re suffering, how does he not see? Does he need verbal affirmation that badly?

“Yeah,” you say behind gritted teeth. “Sure does.”

“Do you trust me?”

“Yes.”

“I’m going to sting you, alright? Only a drop of venom into your bloodstream,” he explains as merciful and comforting as he’s able in your state. “You’ll feel a pinch but it’ll relax you. It might put you in an… aroused state because of your parasite, but you’ll no longer feel pain — it’ll feel good. I’ll take care of you.”

The mention of the potential side effects of whatever he wants to do to you makes your brow furrow in confusion, but there's no time to dwell on it. The pain has become unbearable, hacking at your every thought. "I'll feel good?" you question, dying for any kind of escape from the burning.

"Yeah," Leon affirms, a tenderness that reaches deep into your soul. "You'll feel good."

A stream of questions floods your mind, but Leon interrupts before you can voice them. "Not now," he interjects, pressing the syllables with more stress and emphasis. "Will you let me take care of you?"

His distress resonates with your own need for relief. "Yes," you respond without hesitation. "Yes, okay. This pain is killing me, just do it."

With a swift movement, his scorpion-like tail hovers near your exposed nape, its barbed stinger poised and ready.

"I promise, it'll be over soon," Leon whispers, dead set on his goal. "Just hold on."

The venomous tip of his tail makes contact with your skin and a sharp pinch sends a jolt of sensation through your body, but the initial pain subsides almost instantly, replaced by a soothing coolness that spreads from the injection site. It's an odd sensation, the venom working its way through your bloodstream, numbing the pain and replacing it with a peculiar mix of relaxation and heightened sensitivity.

A soft exhale is pulled from your lips as the effects continue taking hold, the relief washing over you like a gentle wave, and you melt against Leon, wrapping yourself around him, having automatically sought him out on pure instinct. He carefully adjusts his sitting and goes down on the balls of his feet to allow you to crawl on him, ensuring you're comfortable, his tail retracting to support your back for a more comfortable embrace.

"You're doing great," he murmurs, his voice a soothing melody amidst the chaos. "Just let it take effect, I’m here."

The heaviness in your limbs dissipates, replaced by a newfound lightness, as if a mass has been lifted from your body. The world around you becomes hazy, the edges blurred as the arousal Leon had warned about intertwines with the relief spreading through your veins,

It begins with a tingling warmth that spreads across your limbs, akin to tiny sparks dancing on your flesh, and then, the heat gradually intensifies, caressing your senses with a gentle yet invigorating burn that awakens every nerve ending. But amidst the rising warmth, the usual wave of the venom’s coolness follows, like a frosty breath gently kissing your skin. The burn and the coolness entwine, creating an annoying race of who gets to be on top. The heat stimulates your awareness, drawing attention to how good it feels to have Leon’s strong body against you, how you would like more, how you want to explore this new form of his as he’s ribboned up like a present before you; but simultaneously, the coolness acts as a tranquil connection to reality, tempering the fiery sensations with its gentle touch.

Leon’s unique smell underneath your nose pours into your circulation from your heaving lungs, you snuggle in to get more of his scent, in the crook of his neck, right behind his ear… You can’t help but rub your head against it like it could somehow pass to your own body — it’s all instinct, the space of your head pleasantly misty, the feeling of only wanting to get closer wiggling enthusiastically inside. You notice your hands are on the move later, running up his sides and his back, only when you feel the ripple of bumps on his spine following your fingers gliding up and down as if responding to your touch.

“Leon…” He sucks in a sibilant sound when your nails run down his back, momentarily shivering against you. “Leon…”

“Yes, I’m here.” It’s his tail that cuddles you against him because his hands are unavailable. “What do you need, sweet girl, hm?”

How do you say you want to fuck his brains out and do as you wish with him as he’s chained when he can’t retaliate, and how turned on you’re getting by the minute? “I need you.”

You hear the chains rattle and glance up briefly to see his hands balled up in the restraints. “How do you need me?”

His tendency to take things slow and enjoy the augmentation of need as it builds up is a formidable adversary to the you of the present, the frustration is testing the limits of your endurance. There’s something carnal in the way you want him right now, eating away at your patience for playing games with him.

You rise on your knees still framing the outside of his thighs, and taking advantage of the small difference of height it gives you, yank his hair back to make Leon look up at you, his eyebrows arch upward in an arc, the ascent giving away the shock, and his mouth falls agape, lips parting to release a whispered exclamation “I don’t need this dirty talk, I want your dick in my throat.” You stare him down, catching your reflection in his red eyes and see that the same blight webbing him up is also infesting you, shining in your eyes in the same shade of crimson as his. You simply don’t care. “Is that a satisfying answer?”

His chin lowers, leering lascivious, and you swear the veins on his face become a more prominent shade of black. “Jesus Christ.” He yanks on the chains, the harsh sound higher in pitch with the power behind it. “Gimme the key.”

“Nooooot gonna.” He leans towards you when you scooch away from his lap, but is unable to chase you fully. You fixate on his crotch, mouth watering, throat anticipating taking in his shape, phantom soreness reminding you what’s coming. You reach out to his thighs and place your palms on his knees, running them up awfully slow, feeling the rigidifying limbs under your touch.

“Huh? Hey, what do you mean—” He’s stuck between trying to get up and staying that way for you. “What, you’re not untying me?”

“Shut up, I’m in heat right now.” You pop the button of his jeans and bring down the zipper, palming his half-hard bulge above his underwear. “Stop complaining.”

His hips jolt up into your hand, eyes fleetingly rolling behind his head from the satisfying contact, and his cock continues to swell up in your hand, straining against the confines of his briefs. “I’m not complaining — ”

You yank his underwear down, his head popping free and dangling, you bring the underwear underneath his hips along with his jeans with a little help from him rising up and allowing them to slide down better. “You brought this on me, so I’ll feel good the way I want to. Stop. Talking.”

Chuckling in an underestimating mirth, he’s in the middle of saying, “Yes, ma’am—” mockingly when you lift the edge of his top up to shove the crumpled fabric into his mouth, exposing the carved dips and curves of his chest and stomach. He’s rendered shellshocked for only a second before he lukewarmly glares at you, that’s how you know he doesn’t hate it and only acts like he does. That interested swishing of his tail would be enough to break the chains, but he doesn’t attempt it at all. A silent communication passes between you two, that this is an extension of the role-reversal sex you had the day he left for Spain, and he makes it clear he’s down for whatever you want to do with him.

Without breaking eye contact, you kiss down his chest and the pads of your fingertips glide along his heated, soft and firm skin, and slow down when you reach the plane of his pronounced abs that tense with each lick and open-mouthed nibble from you, the tautness increasing when the way down from his navel and the path you follow along the veins end up becoming torturously unhurried.

He has to breathe from his nose, and you pick up where he is on the scale of impatience from his control breaking for it to seep into how sharp or deep they become

You decide to go on your stomach for now, letting him remain perched, the coldness filtering into your clothes from the ground not really all that important compared to drinking in all of Leon’s crumpled microexpressions.

A satisfied noise rises from him as you take him into your hand and give a couple pumps and purposefully stick your tongue out to let your spit dribble considerably on it for better slip and slide, he’s starting to get red in the face.

And when he thinks it’s about to start with the usual opening of getting him in the mood by the standard jerk-off and the buildup from there, you catch him off-guard by taking him all the way into your throat in one go, concentrating to keep your gagging and choking at a manageable bodily response that won’t make you recoil and start coughing — and surprisingly, it doesn’t hurt, whatever’s in that stinger of his is making everything feel different, you are actually scratching an itch at the back of your throat with Leon and it feels so fucking good to give him head and hearing him respond so eagerly to it.

The sound he makes despite holding his shirt up with his mouth is choked and powerful as his hips jerk forward and pushes into your mouth, his guttural whine stutters from Leon as you swallow around him. He can’t talk and respond or tell you how you’re doing, but all the pretty noises, from gruff groans, to desperate humming, and restrained moaning tell you all about how he’s feeling.

You run your nails along the skin underneath his naval and the muscles there jump, the bobbing of your head picking up unexpectedly as you’re literally working to rip his climax off, and he doesn’t feel it sneak up on him, breathing getting more rapid and panicked at how fast you’re wrenching it out of his dick and unconscious shallow thrusts meeting your movements right in the middle — you know exactly when he’s about to come from the slight swell of his dick in down your fluttering esophagus and the tightening of his stomach.

That’s when you stop and take him out with an audible pop, your lips puffed and red, eyes teary. It twitches before slapping against him and his shirt falls from his teeth in an agonized and disappointed groan as his hips stutter forward in an attempt to search for friction, the fucking saliva trail connecting his lips to the fabric makes your heartbeat swoop downwards. “Why? I was right there!—”

You bat your eyelashes at him, blowing cold air on his denied arousal. “I know, baby.”

“You…” His lips draw back in the middle of a low sound at you gripping his base and giving the head kitten licks, alternating between swirling your tongue around and focusing on sucking the tip only. “Ah, what the fuck.” Your tongue delves into the slit of his head and precum gushes forward, his teeth are exposed in a breathy sharp hiss and a jolt. “Yeah, that’s it… Shit.”

The view of his fat chest and his strained, sweat-glistening strong neck swallowing is divine, you pick up the momentum again just to see him get worked up enough to throw his head back for the sight of his striking Adam’s apple, the black veins are doing something else to you that has your insides flipping.

You catch the glimpse of his tail swishing in the air, curling at tandem with your movements. You try taking all of him again to see how it’ll move and the sudden stop and trill has you wanting some friction between your legs. “Fuu—ck, your mouth is a vision, full of me.”

You lick along the bigger vein trailing up under his cock. “Does it feel that good?”

He only nods and thrums a small shudder, but you don’t let him off the leash just yet. “How easy.” Leon’s eyes snap open at the audacity. “Being chained and played with like this…” You give him a particularly harsh pump and the chains jangle because of his sudden tug. “Letting it happen because you want it so much. Desperate to be fucked.”

The degradation alone gets him to pulsate in your hand a couple times, his brow wrinkles as if he’s suffering. “You like this.” You drag a sluggardly strong grip up his weeping cock and his tail whips the ground. “Say it.”

His muscles tense and release, creating a rhythmic movement beneath the surface of his groin upon your teeth getting into the mix. “Shit — I love it.” His arms flex, causing his shackles to rattle. “Everything you do — everything you do to me feels amazing. Keep going, nearly there, I’m about to—”

You hum around him, and he clearly feels the vibrations, rising his hips in an unbelievably hot fluid movement and cursing under his breath, ruby-stained eyes glassy and feverish and mouth thinned and bit from inside. His thighs caging you begin to shake, and you’re made aware he’s close again.

And this time, it’s him who knows you’ll pull back when he needs it the most. “Oh no, you don’t.”

Something coils around your torso and pins you in place so his dick can’t slip out of your mouth, you struggle for air and attempt to pull back, but Leon barges in on your alarm, hoarse and gravelly. “Easy, it’s just me, don’t worry.”

Your hands grasp to the fabric of the jeans on the inside of his thighs, finally able to comprehend he used his tail to bind you — surprisingly gentle yet immovable, it doesn’t suffocate you, nor hurt you in any way.

Mouth still around him, you look up to see he’s watching you, possessing a smoldering zeal, hunger a glint on a knife’s edge, shadow of a sly smile dances upon his lips, a knowing smirk, a sense of assuredness amplifying how he has you, one that reveals all that he’s thinking and claims control from your hands. With every heavy breath he takes, his chest rises and falls, revealing the heightened state of his arousal, and it seems his irises glow a shade darker crimson, a pulsating energy radiating from him, a palpable magnetism that ignites a fire within your own being.

“I’m going to move us around, stay still.”

He makes sure to remove his erection from your mouth without hurting you before it’s with a natural predator’s grace he rises and stands up, his tail maneuvering you around to sit on your knees right in front of him, and you can only gape as he wraps the excess of chains around his wrists so they don��t get in the way, his forearms and biceps pop like they belong to a god like this.

“Pretty mouth, waiting just for me.” At this height, he’s able to reach down and run a thumb along your bottom lip and push in, rubbing through the length of your tongue, fascinated.

The giant appendage, then, unwinds around you, but much to your astonishment, doesn’t slither away, the thinnest end sneaking its way between your thighs instead and your legs clamp around it, but the drag forward defying your refusal has you squeaking. God, the jointed nature of it, like some weirdly shaped anal beads, is acting as periodic zaps moving against your heated sex. It even has the strength to fucking lift you up. Your panties are going to be ruined at this rate. “Leon, what—”

“Wanna make you feel good too.” You’re boosted up when it gives you a particularly harsh press, stars shooting everywhere in your vision with the delicious press not just focusing on one area, but rolling through your clit and dipping to make your entrance contract. “I’ll move it, you focus on taking me.”

Fuck, this is basically the thigh riding from before but on another level, that’s so hot —

His manacled hands wrap around the angry red of his cock, the size of his hands so titillating fisting the length. “I’m gonna fuck your mouth, is that okay?”

You reflexively swallow, mouth watering instantly. “Please. Please.”

“Such a good girl, begging for my cock down your throat. I can’t refuse when you plead like that.” He rewards you by a rich thrust of his tail forward, your eyes closing in delight, you’re sure that a wet spot is forming with all that moving around. “Open up.”

You obey and loosen your jaw as much as you can to let him set the pace, hands grabbing on the moving appendage between your legs in preparation to be used like some glory hole, but unlike your aggressive start from before, Leon is much more deliberate and unhurried in bottoming out, your head is swimming in a sea of dizzyingly gratifying smog, white and blanked out as he pleasures you through it.

You get so lost in it that he sharply hisses and caresses your forehead with shaking hands and has to warn, “No teeth, sweet girl. Relax… Yeah, just like that. You’re doing so well, so perfect, making me feel so good.”

You don’t mean to mewl around him the way you do, but his praises are so sweet as if he’s always getting his dick sucked for the first time, makes you feel appreciated, makes you feel special.

Tears are streaming down your face, saliva drooling down your chin, you’re sure you’re gonna have a sore throat after this, and that sight would be ugly and messy to you, something you wouldn’t want to show anyone, needlessly embarassing, but it spurs Leon on, he craves prettying you up as he says, loves that you become a mess just for him — and you had missed all of that being a sign of neediness before all this. He loves the feeling of being special just as you do, loves that he’s able to get you filthy like this.

“Shit — can’t believe I get to have this forever, now… Never thought… Never—” He breathily laughs, the sound turning into a wanton growl as your throat constricts through his drawn-out, unrushed thrusts. He’s babbling like a man in a confessional, speed beginning to pick up, the movement of his tail also reflecting the frenetic climb, sending your snowballing itch spiraling into completion. “Don’t care what happens anymore — don’t care, don’t care, only need this—sah, fuck!”

His hands hastily rest on top of your hand to keep you in place and you whine and squeal, his stretch digging impossibly further down, a long groan echoing in the chamber at the same time of something metallic shattering and falling off with incredible strength, Leon’s hips twitching in place with your nose buried deep in the fuzz of hair at the base of his cock. Waves of warm spurts drizzle down your esophagus, and you don’t taste anything, but have a go at swallowing on instinct, and it coerces a strained, debauched moan out of him.

His tail moves to pull you away from him and you sit back on your heels, shaking more so from your impending orgasm being pulled right under your feet like a rug because of the abrupt halt of the rhythm, unable to stop the coughing, wrapping a hand around your throat for dampening the soreness, and before you know it, his lips have taken the place of your hand, smothering your neck and your face with kisses.

“You did so good. A fucking angel of sin — for me only.” He doesn’t hesitate to entwine his tongue with yours tenderly as if it’s a honeyed treat to lap up, his gratitude and enthusiasm running high as before. The way he speaks into your mouth gets you pressing your legs together to ease the painful, sweet throbbing between your legs. “You were amazing, sucked the soul out of me, holy shit.”

A whiny, “Leon,” and a tug on his shirt is all he needs to know you need him.

“I know sweet girl, I have you.” His tail sneaks around your waist again, loose in case of your refusal. In the corner of your eye, you see the winch fastening the chains on the ceiling is squashed on the floor, yet his hands are still bound. “You trust me to make you feel good, right?”

“Yes, always.”

“You can say no if you don’t like this.” The sensation of being moved so easily by something alien is frightening as much as it’s arousing when it’s coming from Leon, your anticipation is about to drip down your legs at his tail gently propelling you up to stand on both feet steadily and turning you around so your back is facing Leon. You are bent down from the waist, and the fear of falling makes you jump, but the appendage is fully supporting you, almost making you float, you could stand on your tiptoes with full body weight and you wouldn’t crash on your forehead. “Is this alright?”

You are about to break down in a series of tremors from how much this is turning you on. “Yeah.”

His hands run along your tailbone. “I’m going to chain your wrists behind your waist. That okay?”

“Fuck. Yes.”

“Tell me if it’s too tight.” He doesn’t need to reach for your hands, you align them to rest on your waist on top of each other. He does adjust them a bit and sets you straight after you crane your neck to take a good look at what he’s doing — you’re only able to get a single frame of him unwinding some of the restraints around his wrists to bind them around yours, affectively connecting both your shackled wrists together in a short line of chain. One of his hands grabs and tugs, securing his tail around your torso a bit better at the same time. “How is that? Any discomfort?”

“It’s fine.”

“You sure?”

“Can you please just fuck me already, I’m about to die.”

He lets you go to slide two fingers up your clothed pussy, your folds quite literally pulsing at the contact. “It’s burning up —- you want to brand me, huh?”

You don’t indulge in his running mouth, just wanting to enjoy the fiery pleasure his fondling fingers light in their wake.

“Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you.” He switches to pulling your pants down together with your panties, but not all the way down, making it hang in the middle of the most supple part of your thighs, efficaciously getting them to act as yet another restraint, this time, around your legs so you won’t be able to part them. Two digits easily slide inside and you yelp, held in place mercilessly. “Fuck,” he says, faintly, a subdued composure, the voice going straight to your pussy and making you clench over his fingers. “You eat me up so eagerly. That hungry, sweet girl?”

Your head’s tingling and buzzing from all that rush of blood in this position, everything gets more overwhelming when you bow your head. You just want him inside you. “Please…”

You pitifully moan at the loss of your fingers, and the brief squeeze of his tail is comforting. “I’ll relieve you.” The replacement of his bulbous tip running through your lower lips is enough stimulation for your toes to curl inside your shoes.

You’re shaking with the release of your anticipation, and he curses. “Fuck, you’re sucking me in.” The same chain that binds you both rattles when he grabs your bound wrists, your eyes widening at how his tail also simultaneously pulls you towards him to sink into his girthy length, working together with his hips.

He’s working you. Using you. Manhandling you, drilling you into him like he’s using a fleshlight as he pleases and everything feels so euphoric, your mind descending into a foggy, floaty bliss despite the tears of instant gratification; the whole burden of responsibility, decision-making, and external pressures melt away and only he exists, and the ecstasy Leon’s spoon-feeding you.

He checks in on you, pulling on your binds, voice tight. “Feel good, sweet girl?”

“I wa—” You hiccup, followed by a trembling whimper, wanting something for your neglected clit, you can’t reach the threshold like this, you keep rising but not enough. “I wanna come, please, let me—”

“Sshh.” His tail is circling you, like a snake twisting around its prey, and you don’t get it at first that he’s getting more of it into the grip for the fat and curling part of his stinger to be able to reach and roll over your unattended, swollen nub.

Your mind is so sunken into the pleasure you can’t even worry about the barbed part getting near your vulnerable parts, but he’s an expert at making it knead just the way that gets you uninhibitedly screaming. “I got you, I got you.”

Your legs collapse beneath you, his tail carrying your entire weight as your climax fractures within you unexpectedly, not even taking some time to grow and spread and take time aching — it just explodes, making your body convulse in aftershock shudders, unable to contain your palpitating sobs.

“Ah, Jesus Christ, fuck!—” The clamp of your cunt around Leon also dropkicks him into his own orgasm, shooting straight into your cervix. He rams into you a couple times before he bottoms out to the hilt, his chained hands having yours in a death-grip, staying like that until the twitching of his cock subsides and he starts going soft.

When you come to next, the chains are completely gone, broken and shattered on the floor, even. Your clothes are straightened and he sits cross-legged on the ground, his back to a wall, and you’re on his lap, tightly hugged by him, still struggling to catch your breath. The view of his muscular arms around your waist is a delight, as always.

“I feel disgusting,” you say. A sense of discomfort washes over you, amplified by the lingering physical sensations of sweat and fluids. Your face contorts with a mix of satisfaction and unease, the need to cleanse yourself from the stickiness that clings to your skin uncomfortable.

“I think that was amazing.”

You snort. “Not that — I mean, I want to take a bath, everything feels so sticky.”

Leon plants a kiss to the side of your head. “I’ll take you.”

He probably means somewhere you can clean yourself, but you can’t help but ask. “Take me where?”

He pulls you in to snuggle better, resting his forehead on your shoulder, tired but playful. “Well, there’s this castle.”

He still hasn’t told you all that much about what’s going to happen. There is no salvation from the parasite inside you anymore, it has its home in you, but you know you’re not a captive, not when you share the same chains as him. “After our visit, can I—can we return home, then?”

“I…” The sentence dies as it starts. “I don’t think that’s possible. Not for a while.”

“Because you won’t let me?”

“Because I don’t know what Saddler will want with you.”

He knew the consequences.

Something inside you makes you change your mind — no, he chose the lesser of two evils for you knowing what was coming.

You can’t bring yourself to blame him, this was meant to happen — you were meant for this gift, meant for this fate, to carry this creature, share it with him. You feel less doubtful and sure of this now, feel the same red of Leon’s eyes, the black of his veins, you shoulder the agony together.

Your common sense gives a last breath as it fades into non-existence. “We’re fucked, aren’t we?”

He chuckles, shielded and spiteful. “Yeah.”

“But you still wanted me by your side.”

“I was worried.”

“You were lonely.” He succumbs into a muzzled silence, and you try to reach out once again. “At least we’re together, right?”

“Yeah… Together in this hell.” You don’t get to see what kind of face he’s making. His deep voice is raspy, and despite his contrition, he’s holding onto you tighter than before. Failure is a shame upon him, and he doesn’t let himself be comforted. “I’m sorry for bringing you down with me.”

“I’d burn for you, anyway. I don’t care.”

He’s brusque and uncompromising. “I wouldn’t let you burn.”

“Then I’d burn with you.” You turn in his lap to look him right in the eyes — his red meets your red. “Together in this hell, right?”

Lambs to the slaughter.

#leon kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy x reader #leon s. kennedy x reader #leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy imagine

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