#im kinda sleep deprived at the moment

[buuniebaby]

your first time with hamzah 🙈🙈

THERE’S A FIRST TIME FOR EVERYTHING. 🎀

includes: losing your virginity, awkward sex talk, very sweet sex ! 💝

word count 3.2k purr

you’re too tired for this.

you and hamzah are becoming sleep deprived, something you usually do together: come over to each others houses, watch a movie, eat food your stomach will regret in the morning. it’s been a tradition since you guys were just friends.

even now as you’re dating, it still feels.. the same. not that you’re complaining; you love having a partner who’s also a best friend to you. it just feels like there should be some sort of change, but you can’t put your finger on it.

it’s 2 in the morning now. you and hamzah have watched about 3 shitty 2000s movies, enjoying every moment of each one. your brain feels absolutely fried, and you can only imagine his is as well.

“are you a virgin?” hamzah spoke suddenly, but also casually. a little too casually. you choke on your own spit at that, face turning red with embarrassment.

“…what?” is all you can reply back. “what- why?” you say, eyebrows furrowing at him. your voice has noticeably pitched up.

“i dunno. just tell me.” hamzah says, rolling his eyes. you hate how confident and sassy he is, but you’re also sort of attracted to it.

“you’re so weird.” you practically squeal, jokingly. you grab onto a pillow as you fall back first onto the bed. “why do you even wanna know? that’s so like, random.” you ask, more genuine this time.

“i guess,” hamzah starts, but then pauses, almost as if he doesn’t know the answer himself.

“i was just kinda thinking. like, we don’t really talk about sex, ever. and we don’t have to- I don’t wanna bring it up if you’re uncomfortable. I’m just like, curious if you’d be down to talk about it.” he rambles, making up his words as he goes. you furrow your brows as he speaks, still kind of confused. you know there had to be something that started it, you just aren’t sure what.

“oh. well like,” you flush, sort of embarrassed to admit what you’re about to say. “yeah, i am.”

“a virgin?” hamzah asks, head tilting like a lost puppy.

“yes, idiot. what else would i be talking about?” you reply back sarcastically.

“you’re right, you’re right,” he banters with you. “I just- I guess I’m surprised.”

you perk back up, sitting yourself upright again.

“surprised.. that im a virgin?” you question, raising an eyebrow.

“i guess.. i dunno. I just feel like you’re like, too pretty to not have found someone who wants you like that.” he rambles. you feel a blush creep onto your cheeks again, knowing he’ll always praise you for your pretty face.

“i mean, I’ve found a lot of people who want me,” you say, rolling your eyes at the thought of a particular ex. “I’m just like, picky, I guess.” your giggling as hamzah somewhat laughs with you, but you watch as his facial expression starts to falter. you know something’s on his mind.

“do you want to?” is all he mutters. again, he keeps this quiet, casual tone that you rarely see with him.

“i mean, yeah, kinda. I just like, don’t know where to start I guess.” you answer honestly. “feels like everyone’s way more experienced than i am anyways.” hamzah turns over to you, looking in the eye. you feel him think for a second, as if he doesn’t know whether he should let his thoughts out or not.

“well, I don’t really have experience either.” he mutters back, scoping for a negative reaction from you. your eyes widen a bit, and he doesn’t know if he should take your body language negatively or positively.

“you’re a virgin too?” you ask, a more shy tone than usual.

“..yeah. well I’ve done like- stuff. just like, never had sex. never had my penis like, in there, y’know-“

“you don’t need to go into detail.” is all you have to say, talking over him.

“-but i would go all the way with you.”

that’s all you remember from that night before blacking out, yet somehow the short memory haunts your mind. it’s eating you up inside, the thought of losing your virginity after so long to him.

you’ve seen all the edits and thirst traps of him online and can admit that they’ve made you feel some type of way about him - hell, you’ve touched yourself to the idea of your boyfriend too. yet for some reason, the thought of actually having sex with him was never really a priority to you. it’s not until now you’ve understood people’s cravings for sex, but god can you feel it now.

you’re making breakfast the next morning while his hands are around your waist and all you can think of is that conversation. when you help him with editing throughout the day, leaning over his shoulder, all you can think about is him having you bent over like that in a different context. you feel like you’re in a haze almost, clouded by the thought of hamzah.

“baby?” hamzah asks, waving a hand in front of your face in an attempt to get your attention. you perk up and face him, slightly embarrassed for spacing out.

“i was just gonna ask if you wanted me to order something for lunch.” he says casually, but his face begins to fade into an expression between concerned and confused. “you okay?”

“what?!” you reply, scrambling at bit as you didn’t think he would pick up on your behavior. “im fine. what do you mean??” you question; rapidly.

“you’ve just been like, really spaced out today. i get like that, where i like dissociate sometimes when something reallyyy bad happens. so i just wanted to make sure.” he rambles a bit, genuine concern in your eyes. despite the horniness driving your body right now, you do feel a bit warmed by the way he cares for you.

“you can always talk to me if something’s up, y’know-“

“did you mean it?” you ask, staring at him blankly.

“mean… what?” he stares back at you, looking at you like you just killed a man in front of him.

“what you said last night. that you’d like- y’know..” you look down shyly, hiding in your hair as a warm blush creeps onto your face.

“that I would..?” hamzah looks at you, genuinely clueless.

“lose it to me hamzah. have sex with me. loose your virginity.” you look up at him, speaking sternly. you’re a little too pent up to take his stupidity today.

you watch as his expression changes, going from confused to something you can’t even put a name on. a mix of shocked, embarrassed, amused - but most prominently, you watch that urge crawl up into his body. you can tell in his eyes that he wants you in the same way you crave him.

“yeah.” he says, breathy. “i want that. like, now though? or like later, what are we doing-“

his words are cut off as your lips land on his. he gasps into the kiss, caught by surprise. you try and swipe your tongue against his slightly parted lips, but he pulls away before you can get it anywhere significant.

you look at him concerned after he pulls away, taking a second to breathe.

“have you like- kissed anyone before?” he asks, and you can tell he’s serious. you giggle a little.

“yes, ive kissed before.” you say, a little smile still formed on your face. “buuut..” you drag on your words to edge him on a bit.

“ive only made out with someone once, and i can already tell you’re the better kisser.” you say, slyly. he likes it when you boost his ego like this - he’s already proud of himself for pulling you, so you make him feel like some sort of greek god.

he smirks before he pulls you into another kiss, this time pressing his lips to yours a lot firmer. it’s more intense this time around, a hand cupping the side of your face, holding you in place for him as his tongue glides inside your mouth.

you kiss until you physically can’t anymore, pulling back when you need a break for air. there’s an awkward silence before he kisses you again, putting his hands on your waist sometimes. you’re taken aback a bit as he lifts you in the air.

your immediate reaction is to hook your legs onto something, hamzah just being the nearest option, of course. your legs wrap around him, straddling his hips. you arms are grabbing onto his shoulders gently. he’s strong enough to hold you without support, but you like the physical aspect of clinging onto him like a koala.

he reaches the room, fumbling with the doorknob as he struggles to lift you at the same time. he kicks the door closed softly behind him when he eventually gets in there. he drops you in the middle of the bed, body landing gracefully.

you sit yourself up into a more comfortable position, and hamzah sits himself right next to you. it’s here when you realize how comfortable you are around him, even if you’re about to reach a life milestone you can never take back with him.

but fuck, you’re never gonna be able to take this back. the anxiety crawls back up into your brain for a second, but the feeling of hamzah’s hand on your thigh relaxes you. a single look into his eyes and you’re already reassuring yourself again. you’re not gonna want to take this back, because god, you love this boy.

“have you ever-“ hamzah pauses mid sentence, stuttering. he does this when he doesn’t know what words to use; it’s one of his mannerisms that you’ve picked up a little yourself over time. “like, felt anyone up? or like- dry hump them, I guess.” he says. you feel him cringe a bit at his own words - he gets embarrassed easily.

“not really,” you say. a smirk creeps onto your face as you have an idea. “but you could show me how.”

hamzah’s eyes widen a bit as his hand moves from your thigh to your waist. he picks you up again like it’s nothing, sitting you down on his lap. his hands massage your waist, moving up briefly past your chest. he runs at your collarbone for a minute, staring at your clothed breasts.

“can i take this off?” he asks in a low voice, toying with the fabric at your shoulders. you bite your lip as you give him a nod, and before you know it whatever garment was covering you before is gone.

“fuckkk,” is all hamzah lets out before a hand is cupping your chest, squeezing at your soft and fleshy skin. instinctively, you push your chest into his hands. you let out a soft noise as he rolls one of your nipples between his fingers.

he’s fully hard now, and you can feel it straining against you. you can tell he’s trying to keep his hips still, not wanting to get worked up too fast.

his hands leave one side of your chest as his mouth attaches to your other nipple. you can’t help but moan at the feeling of him suckling at it. he pulls of for a second, and you can feel his hands fumbling with the fabric of your bottoms for a second.

“take this off for me?” he pleads in a sweet tone, and you can tell he’s starting to get needy. you comply, of course, leaving you in just your underwear. you don’t want to be the only one undressed though, so you shimmy his pants down a bit and get his shirt off too.

you’re left in both just underwear - a weird feeling. there’s not a lot of fabric separating your crotch and hamzah’s, so when he bucks his hips up into yours it feels good. he ducks down to kiss you again, chest pressing to yours, and god, you feel like you’re in heaven. there’s heat burning through your body as your bare skin touched his.

his hands are on your hips as you grind against him, the thin material of his boxers straining against his cock. he reaches down to rub you through your underwear, eliciting a moan as you hide his head in your shoulder.

he stops your grinding for a second, a hand trailing up your thigh. he uses it to spread your legs wide, causing you to make a small noise. he pulls your panties to the side, showing off what he’s wanted all this time.

he’s already settling lower, head balance with your hips, and now you’re nervous. it’s your first time being touched like this - probably his too, and it’s scary. you close your eyes when you feel him plant a kiss on your hip, teasing you. he continues to kiss around, even guiding a hand back up to play with your chest, but it’s not enough.

“please,” you whimper, begging for more stimulation. hamzah takes it as a sign you’re ready, and before you know it, you’re squirming again.

he presses just a single finger inside you, scoping how much you’re able to take. your stomach flips as you feel him spread you open. he adds another finger once the first one is in knuckle deep, then begins to curl them inside of you. you whimper at the feeling as his fingers excel in speed, working you open.

“hamzah- fuck.” you whine, letting out an especially sharp gasp at the feeling of his fingers hitting that spot.

“yeah?” he asks, playfully, curling his fingers to hit the same spot. your pelvis thrusts up at the movement, only motivating him to go further. his hands are so fucking big and he’s so strong when he thrusts his fingers up into you. it burns in the best way possible.

“ah- hamzah!” you squeal, squirming around. you whine when you feel him pull away from him; you were so, so close to finishing. you look up at him and whimper, a sad expression plastered across your face.

“didn’t want you to cum yet,” hamzah mutters under his breath. “not done with you.”

you flush red, his words washing over your body in a hot wave. suddenly hamzah is moving, pulling down his boxers, and god his dick is big. you can’t help but whine at how badly you want it inside you.

“so noisy.” he mumbles, lining his cock up with your folds and sliding the tip between them. you only whine more at his teasing.

“hamzahh,” you complain, eager for him to stop teasing you and just put it in.

“mhm?” he replies, edging you on. he strokes himself a bit, acts as if he’s going to put it in, but then doesn’t. he knows what he’s doing and you hate it. “need something, baby?”

he’s so mean, making you beg.

“I need it so bad, hamzah, pleeasee-“ you beg, desperate. you don’t care how humiliating it is now, you need him.

“need what, baby?” he asks, obviously only to get a reaction out of you. you sigh, but you know what you need to do.

“fuck me, hamzah. i need you - your cock.” you beg, no - demand, firmly.

hamzah doesn’t stall once he’s gotten what he wants. he’s done with the teasing, pressing his tip into you. you let out a shaky moan - it hurts a little when he slides in, like ripping off a bandaid.

“hamzah- hurts.” is all the words you can get out. his hips still inside of you, waiting for you to take a breath before he continues.

“it’s okay baby. gonna feel better once I’m all the way in.” he mutters, caressing your cheek with the hand that isn’t holding him up. he wasn’t lying - it’s painful as he slides himself into you, stretching you out, but once your hip-to-hip with him there’s a comfortable peace to the feeling.

you two lay in that position for a minute, feeling the warmth of connection between your bodies. it’s a soft, loving touch - you feel safe in his arms.

“s’okay if i move now?” he whispers to you, keeping a gentle tone. at the end of the day, he’s here to take care of you.

“yeah. thank you.” you say, genuinely grateful for his patience. you remind yourself that it’s his first time doing this too; you’re not alone in your anxiety.

you clutch onto his shoulders as he nearly pulls out, cock sliding out of you to the tip, then slams back into you.

“h-hamzah!” you whimper, clawing your nails at his back. he keeps a similar pace, thrusting into you deep. even hamzah makes a small noise at the feeling of being inside you, hips stuttering against yours. the sound of skin slapping together and breathy moans fills the room.

you wrap your arms and legs around hamzah as he continues to thrust into you, clinging to him.

“so pretty.” he says, looking down at you. “there’s a reason- fuck- i wanted to fuck you in missionary. pretty face.” he stutters, moving a hand to caress your face. you can’t say anything else but whimper at him, overstimulated from a combination of his thrusts and his words.

you feel a tight feeling build in your stomach, almost like a coil nearing its breaking point. you clench around him, legs beginning to shake.

“aah- hamzah! fuck-“ you practically scream, rolling your hips up into his one last time before you orgasm. he just stares at you, slowing the roll of his own hips, in awe.

you notice as his pace slows after you catch your breath, looking up at him almost disappointed.

“what’re you doing?” you mumble, voice worn out.

“you finished, i don’t wanna-“ he begins to ramble, but you cut him off.

“keep going.” you say firmly.

“huh?”

“want you to cum too.” you say, voice still soft and tired. you roll your hips up into him, still sensitive. he nods, pushing back into you.

he continues to thrust into you rougher and rougher until his hips are slapping against yours with every thrust. every little noise you make turns him on more, until finally, he forces himself to pull out of you.

he strokes himself on top of you, a string of cum landing on your stomach. he’s panting as he finishes all over you, painting your stomach white. you smile at the scene, enjoying the was he’s made you his little art piece.

he collapses next to you, laying on his back, catching his breath.

“glad i waited.” you mumble. he turns over to you, looking into your eyes.

“waited for what?” he asks, tiredly tilting his head.

“like, to have sex. m’glad I waited until you.” you mumble, tiredness apparent in your voice. hamzah thinks his heart melts a little at your words.

he grabs a tissue off of his bedside table and wipes the cum off of you so that he can pull you into his arms, dragging the covers over your body.

“i’m glad i waited for you too.”

[youronlydarlin]

What if sleep deprived!reader is doing work late at night again, and what if Price fucks her to sleep ;) ((This has been in my mind for a week now)) (Im using anonymous because Im still shy-)

Hnhhhhh. S' is so fuckin hot nonnie.

warning: fem! reader, kinda brat tamer! Price and a very eepy reader, somewhat dumbification, rough sex to soft sex, somnophilia at the end, not proofread 😢

You know your husband hates it when you stay up late. Moreover if it was work he couldn't convince you to finish in the morning. But were you really to blame here? It's not your fault the deadline got pushed early. Besides, you wouldn't be doing this if you didn't have to.

That was the philosophy you believed in up until your husband came in and decided to put you to bed himself.

You were always so stubborn, but you were adding a whole new flare to it earlier. Making a big show about how "you have to finish the report now, lest you want your boss to beat your ass". And he understands, really, he does. A man with his line of work would understand the calling of responsibility more than anybody. Maybe the late hours of the night has finally gotten into your head. Cause that certainly wasn't an excuse to act up, talking back, and thinking you could banish him to the bed with only the presence of one. No, young lady that attitude will not be tolerated. What happened to his good girl, huh?

But you see, John's always spoiled you. Even during one of your fights, and tantrums. Since you wanted to finish your papers so much John decides to be the bigger person, and give you exactly what. You. Want.

This leads us to now. Both of your wrists are pinned against your back, John using them as nothing but a handle to fuck you back on his fat cock. You feel like a doll, all limp as you're fucked within an inch of your life right by your work desk.

You want to sleep. To slip into dreamland. But the bright light from your opened laptop, paired up with your husbands unrelenting thrusts inside your tight pussy prevents you from even closing your eyes.

Open mouthed, and mindlessly drooling on the papers you were fussing over earlier, John thinks you look best like this. Someone as pretty as you shouldn't be working, much less overexerting herself.

He takes pity on you. His poor, sweet, baby. You're just being forced by your stupid job to comply with even stupider work. Shhh, hush now, sweet thing. Your husband's here to help.

Thrusts slowing down, he gently lets go of both of your wrists. Seeing them carelessly fall to your side makes him coo softly at you. You're being picked up before your mind can even process the action. The blur in your vision makes the colors blend in with each other, and for a moment you see the world like a kaleidoscope.

Fatigue latches onto your bones like a pesky leach. The only thing grounding you is the fat cock nestled within your core. The jostle of a mattress takes you out of your delirium, the softness of silk against your back feels like heaven. What was supposed to be a satisfied sigh quickly turns into a pleasured moan as John gives a shallow thrust into your puffy pussy.

He knows your tired, but he just couldn't help himself. Seeing his princess finally in bed like she deserves. Whining and groaning, you can't eve bring yourself to lift up your arms and tell him to give it a rest. Give you a rest. But, he's doing you a favor can't you see?

John's leaning down in a second, kissing your temple shut. You feel your body slowly succumb to his ministrations. Whispering soft praises into your ear, while he grinds himself aimlessly in your velvet walls.

The feeling of it is oddly more relaxing than stimulating. Eyes closed, you feel powerless even as John slightly picks up his pace. You've accepted defeat, finally falling into the wistful sleep your body has craved. And John thinks you look absolutely breathtaking like this. Always so beautiful without trying. He gets closer and closer to release, using your unconscious body to get himself off. Cumming deep inside of your pretty, princess pussy.

a/n: AHHHHH. M' sorry for only being able to answer your request today nonnie, I know you sent this yesterday 😞 also like. I didn't know if you wanted something soft or rough, so I just added both. Also, this was a lot of fun to write! No pressure on keeping yourself anonymous, jus' know that you can always send in your horny thoughts. N e ways, I hope you enjoyed this! Have a wonderful day/night, my loves!

Yours, truly,

–dolly

[ayyyvivi]

Hi I’m back :3

This piece was a lot of fun to make and for while I was absolutely hating it. I’ll probably end up hating it by the time I wake up and start seeing the details I could’ve added but at this sleep deprived moment I’m happy with the way came out!

I wanna to say thank you to the peeps that liked and reposted my work my last piece got a lot of attention and it makes me happy to see that you guys liked what I made

I decided to maybe use these post to explain how I came up with it since I saw someone mention they liked how I went through my art process so I shall be putting some description on my work from now on >:3

For this piece I wanted to make Miles swing through the city in that pinkish sunset vibe from the movie but I wanted to make it a bit different than my other sketches of him going about New York and I guess different meant a backpack that was swung in a hurry and all his stuff flying out of it! I tried putting as much detail as possible for his stuff flying out even a hidden Gojo ψ(｀∇´)ψ

The buildings were a pain to make I’m still not entirely sold if I like them or not. And I tried to add lots of texture to Spider-man’s suit so it wouldn’t look so bland. My friend had mentioned to me that she likes it a lot better when she can see an artist brush strokes and it being blended makes things kinda flat and since then I feel like my drawings have looked a lot nicer! I guess I’m still getting used digital after drawing traditional for so long

OH! I should mention I’m really inconsistent with my art style for while I would panic because I know something artist must have is some kind of style for people to notice who the work comes from. Im kinda not like that I like being all over the place and I enjoy drawing in all types of ways so I know rn my work looks similar to Spiderverse but depending on how I’m feeling things can change so I guess my art style is being constantly inconsistent! Honestly this kinda gets more for during Halloween when I do my one inktober stuff so stay tune for that!!

If you guys got questions or suggestions on who you want me to draw next let me know! I know someone mentioned they wanted Spider-Gwen with a wolf cut so maybe I’ll do a quick sketch of that

[httpiastri]

favorites – pa17

genre: fluff, suggestive

pairing: paul aron x reader

warnings: mentions of 18+ stuff but it's pretty lowkey

word count: 1k

author's note: sleepy paul <33 forever in my heart <3<3 aaaaa this started out as me just praising paul's eyes and then his entire face and just.... yea idk im kinda obsessed. hope you enjoy and that this maybe can cheer you up from these last few races :)

3k celly l f2/f3 masterlist

paul aron is a pretty sleeper.

well, he is pretty at all times. after a race, cheeks flushed and hair messier than ever; curled up on the sofa with five blankets wrapped around him, the flu making his eyes all droopy; and maybe especially when he's standing on the top step of a podium, cap perched on his head and giant smile adorning his lips.

but even when he's asleep, lips slightly parted and nose scrunching up every once in a while, paul looks like god's most stunning creation. he's not just pretty, he's beautiful, with the type of boyish charm that can make any girl swoon.

back in the day, he adored the attention. nowadays, he only needs you to swoon, thankfully.

his light blonde curls are still tousled from the number of times your hands went through them last night, the feeling of his soft strands still lingering on your fingers. his face is so peaceful, a stark contrast to how concentrated it was a mere few hours ago when you were writhing beneath him as he whispered sweet praises into your ear.

the memory of yesterday makes a shiver shoot through your spine. it's your favorite way of getting ready to sleep; there's no better way to tire out than to spend some time with your needy boyfriend who's just come back from a triple header.

however, this is paul's favorite way of waking up.

the first thing he wants in the morning isn't coffee or a good bagel. it's to feel your legs tangled with his, your skin rubbing against his, your fingers intertwined with his. he doesn't really enjoy the sun shining in through the creak in your blinds, though.

"turn off the damn sun..."

the words lure out a sweet laugh from you, eyes fluttering closed for a moment as you relax further into your pillow. "can't really do that," you tell him with a shrug. "sorry, love."

paul groans – at you or the sun, you aren't sure, but the grumble that vibrates in his chest sounds a little like a frustrated whine, and you have to hold back another giggle. despite his sweet looks, he's a grumpy little thing in the morning; a fact you know better than anyone else. "not fair," he huffs. his accent is always a little stronger, a little thicker when he's just woken up, paired with the very melodious and dramatic tone he often uses which always manages to bring out a smile on your lips. "'m really tired..."

you hum in response. it wasn't too long ago that you both finally fell asleep, after all. when he lets out a sigh and finally opens his eyes, your heart skips a beat. or two. or five.

paul's eyes are your favorite things in the world.

they always have been. since the moment they first met yours, you haven't been able to look away. it's not just a common blue – one day, they've stolen the deep color of the ocean, and the next, they've mimicked the light blue sky of a sweet summer day.

they're especially hard to tear your gaze from since they remind you of so many things you love. the waves by the sea you used to visit when you were younger; the dark rain clouds covering the sky during a cozy storm; blueberry-flavored candy, blue raspberry sour patch kids, bubblegum cotton candy. sometimes even a purple nebula, giving birth to butterflies in your stomach instead of stars in space.

even half-lidded like this, sleep still clear in his gaze, his eyes are enough to send goosebumps all across your skin. the effect he has on you is just not fair.

"how are you even already so awake?" he questions, his tone complaining as if there's a personal vendetta against you not being as sleep-deprived as him. you shake your head, letting go of his hand to instead let yours graze his cheek.

"i've been awake for a while now," you say, watching as he pushes his head against your hand like a cat seeking physical attention, letting out a soft hum when your hand slips past his jaw and lands on the back of his neck.

"doing what?" he raises an eyebrow, albeit clumsily as he's still too tired to control his face properly.

his arm drapes over your waist, his large hand finding the small of your back before lazily tracing up and down your spine. "watching you."

"i can't tell if that's kinky or only creepy."

you scoff, tone growing defensive. "how would that be kinky?"

"i never know with you." paul gently pulls you closer so that you're flush against his chest, making it easier for him to bury his face into the crook of your neck. he inhales slowly, drinking in your scent, before letting out a sigh, his exhale tickling the bare skin of your collarbone. "you still smell of me, you know."

"wouldn't be surprised if the whole room smells of us..." his lips begin a journey upwards, trailing kisses all the way from the sensitive skin between your shoulder and collarbone to the underside of your jaw, before stopping to nibble on your earlobe. his callused palm caresses the skin of your naked back, before sliding down to your ass, squeezing it gently.

your eyes close again, body basking in the feeling of his lips and hands working in perfect synchronization. despite how awake you said you were, it's far too early for wherever this is headed. you call out his name once, then twice, but the sole difference is that his hand moves down to trail along your thighs.

the only thing you can think of is tilting your head down to meet his lips, your toes curling at the passion with which he's kissing you so even early in the morning. his tongue is already begging for access to your mouth, fingertips grazing the inside of your thighs and leaving you squirming under his touch.

it's all so perfect, exactly like it always is; with him pressed up so close not even a single atom could fit between you, with you finding no reason not to give in.

hips pressed against hips, chests against chests, mouths against mouths. your favorite place, your favorite feeling,

your favorite person.

[piwo-zero]

EDIT: THE FIC IS POSTED

here's the link:

OKAY.

IM WRITING JAYVIK FANFICTION. FIX-IT. HAPPENS AFTER THE ENDING OF S2.

ITS KIND OF ARTISTC...

this is the beginning. Tell me what u think... should I continue?

~~~~~~~~

They were nowhere. Disappeared into nothingness. Maybe it was terrifying, but he (they?) didn't feel scared, not really. They were together. They disappeared together. That what mattered.

So their existence in nothingness was peaceful. It felt like forever, but it also felt like a second, or a few. The no-forever of being with love of your life can't be scary. Because the nothingness surrounding you is filled with the strongest emotion you can feel - affection, admiration... Love.

Love.

Love.

He woke up, he knew - gaining consciousness after non-being was hard to miss. So he knew that they were back. He kept his eyes closed.

The first breath hurt, because it always hurts when you confront reality. The nothingness isn't frightening. The chaos of every-day is. He couldn't open his eyes. He was afraid.

The first thing that hit him was all the things that happened. The emotions. The memories. They teared his being, his mind apart - at least for a moment. The need to confront his affection with everything that was. Suddenly, the space for the emotion that gave him peace in no-eternity... shrinked. But he didn't forget. He knew he needed to fight for it. He knew he was about to do everything in his power to never stop loving Viktor.

He opened his eyes.

okay.... this is it. I'm kinda sleep deprived and very emotional after the ending. obviously it's not beta read lmao. maybe someone wants to be a beta reader?

I think I'll post this on AO3 btw!!!

the fic will focus on jayce and viktor relationship (obviously) and how they navigate their life after whatever the fuck happened in the end of S2.

the rest of the fic is a mystery, even for me. weee

[mandalhoerian]

lamb to the slaughter | leon kennedy x reader

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

🌀 read on ao3!

Leon comes back from Spain a bit different. 

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

A pattern has been broken.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No, it’s fine—”

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

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

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

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

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

You fold. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What are you talking about—?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I apparently should have.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Because I can’t.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Love him for coming back. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Love. He said love. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fucking hell. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sit on my face.”

You blink a couple times. “What?”

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

“Will you be alright—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He does not give you one single break. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m gonna— Leo–n, please, please—!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“‘m not doin’ ‘nything…”

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

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

“Yeah, I mean—”

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

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

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

“I don’t need glasses.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

How is he so sure! 

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

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

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

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

You fucking squirted. 

Didn’t even know you could do that. 

He made you because he was jealous.   

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

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

You’re too sleepy for this.

You’re dreaming that you’re Leon. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah..?” 

“I’ve shared it with you.” 

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

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

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

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

Well. 

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

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

“Time for what?” 

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

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

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

Why the hell is there a stranger in your room?

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

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

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

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

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

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

This isn’t a prank. 

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

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

Huh.

Huh?

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

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

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

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

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

“Can’t we just—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh what the fuck.

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

There’s blood when you remove your hand. 

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

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

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

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

“I want to go home. I want to leave.”

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

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

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

“What.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Who are you?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You decide to go with him and see where this path leads, you have nothing better to do, can’t see any way out of this. 

He motions for you to follow him, leading you through a concealed passage that winds its way beneath the labyrinthine corridors of the cult's stronghold — a castle, as you’re shocked to take in. The path is bleak, the air heavy with a musty scent, but you push forward, driven by pure survival instinct to get away to safety.

Luis starts explaining not too much into your journey, hushed, he has all the answers you needed in the first place, quick to the point. "Las Plagas are ancient organisms with a malevolent sentience. They infest and control their hosts, erode their will and sanity. They were made to be… weapons to be harnessed by Los Illuminados. Those who succumb to it become pawns of their leader, Saddler, carry out his agenda. Slaves to his will. They don’t have their minds intact, just flesh prisons to obey his orders."

Your first thought is of Leon, the horrible sinking feeling unspun in your stomach. 

Luis knows what you’re thinking. “Leon… and his buddy Krauser are exceptions. They possess what’s called the superior species, newly engineered.” He raises his eyebrows and tilts his head at the same time, like he’s contemplating a good business deal. “That means free will. To a degree. Their parasites are connected to Saddler, so their bodies can be controlled, but not their minds. Not entirely. They’re not like the inferior ganados. That’s why he was able to seek you out with his own volition.” 

The realization that Leon is trapped within this nightmare strikes you like a blow, your heart sinking with each passing moment. "He isn't controlled?" you inquire, hope blossoming in your chest. "Can you save him too?"

Luis's response is filled with regret, his eyes reflecting a sorrowful truth. "I'm afraid he's beyond saving," he confesses. "The procedure I have can only remove newly hatched eggs, and Leon... well, he's already been consumed by this darkness."

The words reverberate through your mind, the horror of the situation fraying your soul. "But... I can't just abandon him!" you protest, determination and anguish trying to overpower one another.

"You'll be gone forever too if you don't," Luis warns. "It's now or never. If you hesitate, if he catches even a hint of your trail, it will be over."

“You said you were helping me because he told you to.”

“Before he was lost, yes, he made a final wish.” Luis softens, and you realize he’s grieving, too. “He told me to take you as far away as possible from him if he ever were to try and get you involved in this mess. Because he would never do that to you in his right mind, so he said. A total romantic underneath all that ice, eh?”

He would never do that to you in his right mind… 

You flash back to three days ago, to his words, to how he said he loved you, all his adoring, the broken dam of affection and how he didn’t hold back anymore. 

He wouldn’t have decided to go through with opening up to you like that had it not been for the parasite’s influence? 

Uncertainty dangles heavy as you fight with the bitter reality you thought was a dream come true, the heart-wrenching realization that the man you love has been ensnared by the very darkness he sought to protect you from — that only giving into it broke his control of keeping away from you emotionally.

Regret etches itself onto Luis's face as he observes your inner turmoil. "I'm truly sorry, Princesita," he offers with empathy. 

The moment hangs suspended, an agonizing choice looming before you, as you weigh the love you hold for Leon against the desperate need to escape the clutches of this cult. 

You don’t want to leave Leon, even when there’s something clearly wrong with him that can’t be fixed, but on the other hand… 

“Can you honestly tell me he isn’t the man I know?”

“He is less and more.” His tentativeness bleeds into the clearest possible simplification he’s able to give you.. “But isn’t the same.” 

“So what do we do? What should I do?”

You still cannot wrap your head around your whole world flipping upside down, can’t comprehend you have to leave Leon behind, you barely processed him being an agent. You’re stalling. Hesitating. And deep down in your heart, you know why. It’s because you don’t want to go. 

Leon is still Leon. 

But you’re terrified. 

 "The choice is ultimately yours to make. But I implore you to consider your own well-being and the chance to break free. I know that’s what he truly wanted."

“I—”

But as you open your mouth to respond, a sudden, excruciating pain shoots through your head, causing you to cry out in agony. It feels as if someone has driven a searing spike into your skull, rendering you momentarily incapacitated. Your body crumples, and you find yourself on your knees, clutching your head, desperately trying to block out the piercing ringing in your ears.

Amidst the torment, your consciousness is abruptly whisked away, transported to an ethereal realm. It is a dream-like state, observing the world through the lens of another's mind. The golden chandeliers cast a cascade of shimmering light upon turning corners and ornate doors, as the person you are connected to races frantically through the maze-like passages.

The frenzied movement abruptly halts, and your vision pulsates in tandem with the rapid beat of a heart. It’s Leon’s voice echoing through the recesses of your mind, a hidden depth of anger and desperation at the heart of his control. "I feel you," he utters, a slight tremble of heartbreak. "You're in here. I know you're listening. Where are you? Why did you leave?"

Realization dawns upon you, a profound understanding that you are inhabiting Leon's thoughts, sharing his fears and confusion. The sheer intensity of the experience overwhelms you, and you cry out, "No, make it stop!" Your consciousness briefly returns to the physical realm, tears streaming down your face, the pain of the connection too much to bear. "It hurts!"

The ethereal realm engulfs you once more, Leon's emotional turmoil swirling around you. His voice billows with remorse and longing. "It might... Things might have escalated a bit too quickly," he confesses, his tone laden with regret. "It's my fault, I got too cocky, too impatient. But I never wanted to scare you off. I only ever wanted to keep you safe. You have to trust me and open your eyes so I can do that, sweet girl, okay? I'll come get you. We’ll talk it out. You can’t run."

Confusion intertwines with the pain coursing through your being. Leon's words perplex you, as if there is a hidden meaning beneath his pleas. "My eyes?" you utter, the question hanging, unanswered.

Luis gets so loud that you’re brought back to your location for a split second. “Shit. Do not open your eyes!”

Leon hears what he says somehow — and it suddenly comes to you that if you’re in his head, he is also in your head. “Luis. I should have known.”

You feel a sharp pinch at the side of your neck that cannot even compete with the tremendous headache, and the vision begins to crumble, Leon getting fainter — his presence fading away, the last you hear of him is a furious and equally anguished, “Goddamnit, no!” before everything goes black.  

Luis detects the stirring of your consciousness before you do, and as your awareness is brought back from the dormant state you were in, he calls to you in the darkness surrounding everything. “Don’t open your eyes yet.”

You shift around, feeling the coolness of a rough surface against your back and the firmness of the stone floor beneath you. The silence is broken by a peculiar sound—an unsettling symphony of metallic echoes. Chains. Accompanied by Luis’ feet shuffling around, they slither across the ground, you can almost envision their length, extending and coiling, like serpents of iron, their echoes intertwine, creating an eerie melody because you can’t see them. 

“What are you doing?”

Luis's response is calm and purposeful. "Setting the scene," he explains. The sound of nails being hammered into stone with an underlying jingle punctuates his words, causing you to jump in surprise. "For Lancelot seeking his Guinevere."

The pieces start to come together, albeit slowly. "You want to trap him," you realize.

Luis acknowledges your understanding. "Wonderful, Princesita," he praises. "You catch on fast. Leon is connected to you somehow, and we can't progress if he sees through your eyes. So, we need to create an illusion."

Confusion and concern overflow as you question the feasibility of their plan. "But Leon is... He could be listening right now."

Luis dismisses your worries. "Do you feel that he is sharing your head at the moment?" he asks. The uncertainty in your response betrays your lack of knowledge. "Ey, you'd know," he asserts. "That means he isn't present. Perfect."

Doubts linger in your mind as you consider the risks. "Will it work? He's... well, I recently learned he's an agent. I don't think it'll be easy."

"Whose side are you on?" he teases, playful. But when he senses your unease, he quickly reassures you. "No worries, I get it. He's better with the ladies, I've learned."

You can't help but feel a pang of guilt. "Luis..."

He brushes off your concerns with understanding. "I'm almost done here. He's supposed to think you're alone, so you can't look at me when I tell you to open your eyes. I'll be hiding. Don't talk to me, don't acknowledge me, just wait."

Curiosity gets the better of you as you ask, "How are you going to..."

Luis's response is concise and determined. "It won’t be me who’s doing it. It will be you. I will be your distraction.” You hear his footsteps approaching, and something small but heavy being placed on the floor just beside you, hidden from your line of sight. “You’ll hide when he arrives, and when the time comes, I want you to shoot. Don’t worry, it’s a tranquilizer gun. Wish me luck so he won’t kill me on sight, eh?”

It doesn’t take long for him to signal you. 

You open your eyes, the darkness giving way to dimly lit surroundings. The scene before you is carefully arranged, meticulously designed to deceive. The chains that previously echoed through the room now come into view, hanging ominously from the winch on the ceiling, you follow the line with your eyes to see the other end is secured to the stone wall by a circle of nails. The clinks and clanks reverberate, amplifying the tension.

Luis is nowhere to be seen, but his presence lingers, a silent reassurance that you're not alone.

In the deafening silence, doubt gnaws at you, and you question the madness of your current circumstances. 

You’re unsure of what you truly desire, unable to look over how you really just found yourself going along with Luis's plan, not because it feels right, but because your mind is clouded, unable to think clearly. You feel like a reluctant child, accepting the path laid before you simply because it seems to be the only option available.

Uncertainty presses heavily upon you as you contemplate the impending encounter with Leon. Fear grips your thoughts, entwining with the deep-rooted emotions you still harbor for him. Despite the revelations and warnings about his true nature, your heart remains entangled in a web of love and trust, the idea of seeing him again evokes a conflicting mishmash of longing and apprehension. 

You find yourself yearning for his presence, against the knowledge that he is not the same person you once knew when the mere thought of his return conjures a happy expectation of hope within you, a desperate desire to be whisked away from the nightmarish reality that has unfolded — deep, deep down, you pine for him to be the savior, the one who can shield you from the horrors of this supernatural ordeal he inflicted upon you himself.

Yet, simultaneous fear engulfs your soul, you question your own liability, knowing that you still trust him, still harbor the potential to be swayed by his words and actions. The thought terrifies you, the notion that you might have readily agreed to his plans had he presented them differently, had he explained the sinister truth of the parasite in a more inviting manner. It's a terrifying realization, the awareness of your own susceptibility to his influence, and despite everything, he’s the only anchor you can hold on to not be swept away into that chaos. 

You want him to enter the room, to make everything right again, tell you all of this is a nightmare you made up in your head because in the real world you still miss him, and at the same time you also fear what his arrival may entail.

As if attuned to your thoughts, a prickle in your mind disrupts your musings—a subtle trickle of awareness, the sensation of being watched by an invisible presence sharing the same space as you.

So you wait, your heart pounding in your chest, the weight of the impending confrontation with Leon bearing down on you. Every second feels like an eternity as you strain to listen for any sign of his approach. The air grows heavy with anticipation, and your senses are on high alert.

Suddenly, a noise echoes through the chamber, a faint, careful creak of a door opening. Your breath catches in your throat, he was so deadly silent infiltrating the building this basement is in, and you scramble to crouch and hide behind stacked boxes facing his direction, praying to god he hasn’t heard you. 

His eyes search the room in  a hardened gaze, a mask of determination, scanning every corner, every shadow with professional coldness. 

Leon cuts through the silence, as if he’s been hurt by you somehow. "Come on, I know you’re here, you don’t need to hide from me, I’m just here to talk.. Don’t be afraid of me.”

Your heart aches at the sound of his voice, you fight back tears, reminding yourself that this is necessary, for both his sake and your own — you can’t crumble right now, absolutely dreading what actually hearing him out would do to you. 

Luis emerges from where he’s hiding, unknowingly coming to your rescue, stepping forward with calculated confidence. "Looking for someone, Leon?" he asks, dripping amused intrigue.

"Where is she?" Leon demands, and you’ve never heard him like that before — that bone-chillingly cold and intimidating, menacing, low tone is downright terrifying. 

“Not even a hola for your old friend?” 

Leon fucking pulls a gun on him and your heart jumps to your throat. “Where. is. she?”

Luis raises his hands in a placating gesture, a sly smile playing on his lips. "No need for violence, my friend. I'm here to help."

Leon's grip on his weapon tightens, his suspicion evident. "I don’t need your help anymore. Tell me where she is."

Luis chuckles softly with a trace of mischief. "Ah, the stubbornness of a man in love. But I'm afraid your Princesita is in another castle."

Anger flashes in Leon's eyes, his frustration mounting. "Don’t bullshit me Luis, I know she’s here. What are you up to?"

Luis takes a step closer, sympathetic as much as he’s purposeful. "I've done what you asked of me. She's safer without you." 

Leon's face contorts with disbelief and fury, threatening to consume him. "Safer? You have no idea what you’re talking about. There is no safer place on earth right now than by my side. The world's about to go shit. The President is down, and the impending mass vaccination is nothing but a precursor to chaos. Do you think this is some deranged lover’s obsession? No."

With hopeless resoluteness, Leon continues to pour out his frustrations and fears. "Someone, be it the WHO, Terrasave, or the BSAA, someone will eventually expose the truth about the parasite spreading through medicines. And when that happens, all hell will break loose — do you understand the scale of what I’m talking about? The illusion of a smooth and controlled resolution is nothing more than a lie, and we both damn well know it."

Emotions wash over Leon, leaving him vehement and exposed, self-deprecating, raw. "I may have failed in my mission, and I may have failed everyone, but I refuse to let her become a mindless puppet like those villagers and cultists. I won't let her perish chasing scope after scope for news articles that’ll get her killed. She's all I have left." His voice quivers with a defeated tenacity and desperation, he shakes his gun at Luis. "So yes, I made a choice. It's the right one. It's the only one. A choice where I can be with her, where she can stay safe. A choice where I become the monster, but I can’t care less about the consequences anymore. So, get out of my way, Luis, and take that getaway chopper of Ada's while I'm still giving you the chance. That a good deal?"

“What happens when Saddler loses?” Luis sighs through his nose, totally unaffected by all that talk. “What happens if you die on that hill?”

His question lingers for a moment before Leon responds, less baleful and more mournful, even accompanied with a strange sense of happiness. "I know the end. As long as I get to die in her arms, it doesn't matter."

In that instant, something within you snaps. The anguished anger and the raw empathy you feel for Leon flow through your veins, overpowering any rational thought. Without hesitation, you make a decision that feels both natural and inevitable — to shoot the tranquilizer. 

You pull the trigger, the dart finding its mark with an unsettling precision, and time slows as you watch it puncture his skin, him flinching with a hand clamping around the dart and yanking it out, his wide, red eyes finding yours as you stand up, the realization dawning in his eyes. 

You want to cry when it’s relief and happiness that comes first to him upon seeing you as if on instinct, and confusion and hurt wash over his features next as he sees what’s in your hands. It's a sight that cuts through your heart. He staggers, toward you, his body fighting against the encroaching numbness, as if defying the very fate that befalls him. With outstretched arms, he reaches for you, fingers trembling, yearning for connection amidst the sense of betrayal. 

Yet, despite his desperate efforts, his strength fails him. His legs give way beneath him, and he tumbles to the ground, his reach falling short. You watch, your heart splitting in two, as he crumples in a heap of confusion. His fingers graze at where your presence is, a touch that never finds its mark.

In the waning moments before unconsciousness claims him, his eyes search yours, pleading for answers that you struggle to provide. You stand rooted to the spot, grappling with guilt and anguish, questioning the validity of your actions, second-guessing the choices that have led to this heartbreaking scene.

As Leon finally succumbs to the claim of the tranquilizer, his body surrendering to the oblivion of unconsciousness, you're left with your final commitment, crystal clear. 

Your heart was set on this from the start. You were just too scared to admit it. 

You’ll stay with him in this darkness.

Leon’s all alone here, knows he’s doomed by the narrative, can’t leave — and all he thought throughout that was you and what would happen to you. 

You can’t leave this man in the solitude of tragedy, with the first ever selfishness of his was seeking you out despite himself to protect you. No moment has solidified his love for you more than this. How he thinks of you tremendously. 

You can’t not love this man. You can’t bring yourself to obey his wishes and abandon him.

The lamb doesn’t want to leave the slaughterhouse. 

With a heavy yet determined tone, you utter the words that seal your fate. "Go, Luis."

Luis protests, filled with concern and a touch of reluctance. "You can’t—"

Tears well up in your eyes as you gaze at Leon's unconscious form, lying helpless on the cold ground. The depth of your emotions overwhelms you, but you gather your resolve. "I can't abandon him now. Not after everything he's been through. He needs someone by his side."

Luis hesitates, torn between honoring your wishes and his genuine concern for your well-being, making a final attempt to persuade you. "I understand your heartache, but you're risking everything for him. Are you sure about this? There's so much at stake — you’ll become just like him, you know? You’ll never be able to leave Los Illuminados and go back to your old life."

“You don’t get it do you? It’s true that I'm scared, Luis. Scared of what lies ahead, the stuff you’ve talked about is straight out of a dystopian novel. But I'm more scared of losing him in all of this.” It haunts you how he said it doesn’t matter if he gets to die in your arms, no regard for his own well-being and health. Leon has never cared for himself enough, that much you know, but to think his entire system has collapsed like this, to the point where he’s let himself go entirely and came to you while wounded… It’s something you can’t turn a blind eye to. A cry for help you can’t ignore. “He looked for me in this chaos. Underneath all of the excuses of protection, Leon’s just scared. He doesn’t want to be alone.” You can’t look away now that you’ve seen everything. “I can’t go back anyway after knowing this. I’d never forgive myself. It's better to face whatever’s coming with him, no matter what horrors it holds.”

“There’s absolutely nothing I can do to change your mind?”

The fact that he’s set on doing this and looking out for you until the last second because he has promised Leon and is truly concerned warms your heart up. “You really should catch that ride before it’s too late.” 

“You’re making a mistake.” His concern mingles with a touch of admiration for your unwavering will. “But he’s hell of a lucky bastard to have you by his side throughout it all. This is the sacrifice of your life, I’m not joking. And I hope it’ll be worth it.”

He’s not like you, and that’s okay. You actually admire and envy his sense of self-preservation overweighs his loyalty and promise to Leon, that’s how a normal person should be. But the situation is far from normal, and you’re infected by a mind-altering parasite for fuck’s sake, and you’re not even sure you’re going through the quarter of what Leon has. 

“Thank you Luis.” Touched by his understanding, you reach out and take Luis's hand, gratitude shining through. “For everything.”

A somber atmosphere settles in the room as Luis grows more melancholic. He takes a deep breath before making his final request. "Before I go, there's one last thing I want to ask. Considering we don't know how he’ll react when he wakes up, I think it's best to be cautious. We should chain him up, just to be safe. I don't want him accidentally hurting you in his confused state."

You hesitate, unsure about the idea of restraining Leon, but Luis's earnestness compels you to consider it. "I don't think he would ever harm me..."

Luis interrupts gently. "Oye, let me worry about that, Las Plagas is unpredictable and dangerous. Do me this favor, it’s the least you can do to pay me back, yeah? A little caution won't hurt. And if Leon questions it, you can blame me. I can handle it from a safe distance out of his reach in the comfort of my luxury ride."

With Luis's words echoing in your mind, both of you set to work, struggling like you’re trying to roll a boulder up a hill with the weight of Leon's unconscious body. The effort is tremendous, sweat pouring down your faces as you maneuver his unexpectedly heavy frame. 

Exhausted from the strenuous task, Luis hands you the key, his face flushed with exertion as you finally finish securing Leon in chains. The room is filled with a heavy silence, punctuated only by the sound of your own labored breaths.

As the unvoiced question of what happens now makes itself known between you two, caught in the tension between Luis’ desire to stay and the necessity of his departure. His words come out disconnected, hesitant, obviously having an awkwardness that comes from bidding farewell under such circumstances. "Well..." he begins, trailing off as he struggles to find the right words. "It was a pleasure to know you, Princesita." His smile is half-hearted, betraying the mixed emotions within him. "I hope we never have to meet again."

The unexpected humor in his remark catches you off guard, and a genuine laugh escapes your lips, the sound reverberating through the room, mingling with the faint clinking of the chains as Leon stirs behind you, his presence a constant reminder of what you’ve decided to get yourself into.

Luis's insistence breaks through the brief moment of levity as he implores you, his eyes flicking between you and Leon's kneeling form. "Take care of him," he urges, a sense of responsibility coloring his words. "And yourself."

You offer him a reassuring smile, endlessly thankful for his guidance in getting you to realize Leon’s perspective. "Will do. You too, Luis," you respond, nothing but warmth in your heart for him as you acknowledge his efforts. "Don't feel bad about not being able to help us, please? You've done all you can."

He nods once, his features a blend of bittersweet defeat and acceptance. With a final glance, he retreats into the shadows, his presence fading away. The room feels emptier without him, and sadness washes over you, a stab of guilt for potentially failing him now that you are left alone with your thoughts and the finality of the decision you have made.

The room remains shrouded in an eerie silence, broken only by the faint sound of Leon's steady breaths and the gentle rattling of the chains that bind him. 

Your gaze inevitably falls upon him, bound and unconscious before you. 

The sight of him, held captive by the chains, elicits strange emotions that defy explanation. There is an undeniable allure that emanates from his restrained form, drawing you in despite the chaos that surrounds you. It is a conflicting blend of fascination and revulsion, a cocktail of sensations that confound your senses. You should be consumed by panic, overwhelmed by the dire circumstances and the looming threat of the parasite within you. Yet, in this moment, a strange calm settles within your being. Is it the influence of the parasite that dulls your anxieties, or is it a resolute acceptance of the path you have chosen?

Despite the restraints that hold him captive, there is an undeniable attractiveness that surrounds him, gluing your eyes to the sight before you.

Kneeling on the floor, Leon’s muscular physique is accentuated by the susceptible position he finds himself in, the chains tightly holding his wrists above his head, rendering him defenseless and at your mercy. His sculpted arms, stretched taut and slightly strained, display the evidence of his strength even in his helpless state, veins beneath his skin appear more pronounced, as if awakened by the touch of captivity and the strain of gravity. His tousled locks of blond hair cling to his forehead and darken in shade where they meet with sweat, adding to his prettiness. Even in his unconsciousness, there is a magnetism that emanates from his chiseled features — strong jawline, cheekbones, and glistening lips that have known both determination and tenderness. The pinch of his eyebrows low over his eyes adds a touch of rugged toughness, contrasting with the vulnerability imposed upon him by the chains. His chest rises and falls rhythmically, betraying the calmness of his unconscious state. Light and shadow dance across his defined torso, revealing the slopes and curves that bear witness to his physical prowess. 

It is an unintended pull that arises from the juxtaposition of strength and exposure, dominance and surrender. The image of Leon bound and kneeling, his arms raised and secured by the unyielding chains, creates a powerful visual dichotomy — a captivating blend of control and submitting, strength and fragility.

You didn’t know you were into BDSM. Is this what it is? Why the hell does he look so mouth watering in chains to you when there are more dire matters to feel about — you are being a giant pervert about an unconscious man. Sympathy, desire, and protectiveness intertwine, blurring the lines between what is right and what is alluring. In this moment, you are both drawn to his physical presence and compelled to ensure his well-being, torn between the magic of his bound form and the urge to set him free to not let your thoughts run further.

You have no idea how much time passes before Leon's eyes flutter open, blinking away the haze of unconsciousness, and you stand up from where you were sitting, hands clasped before you in an anxious gesture, fearing his reaction. Panic briefly flashes across his face when the drowsiness clears enough for him to notice he’s bound by heavy chains, his arms held aloft and his movements restricted — the harsh tug on the chains makes you jump and that’s how he spots you standing nearby, concern etched on your features.

"You’re okay," Leon breaks the silence, his words a murmured astonishment. It's not a question, nor is it a statement of certainty. It's an observation imbued with gratitude. He's taken aback, as if his mind is struggling to comprehend that you are here with him at all. That’s the first thing he worries about? That’s what he cares about? “You stayed.”

The corner of your lips tugs upward in a soft, bittersweet smile. "Yeah, I did," you reply. The way he looks at you, as if you hold a small piece of his shattered world together, tugs at your heartstrings.

Leon’s more wary and threat-seeking when he brings up the stranger. “Luis?”  

You start playing with your fingers. "He left.” A pause. “It was my decision.” 

He sits up straighter, like he can’t believe what he’s hearing. “Is… that so?”

It’s so bizarre having a serious conversation with him in chains now that you’re living it. “I’m… I’m sorry for the chains, I, Luis, uh—”

“No, I get it.” He says it like it’s a given and he doesn’t mind it — and that’s when you’re reminded again that he’s a specially trained agent, that’s where the attitude weirdly used to these kinds of things has to come from. “I haven’t given you a reason to trust me.” He gazes at you, his eyes betraying remorsefully hidden emotions, voice dropping down to a low whisper. “Yet you stayed anyway even when I’m like this. I never thought... I never expected anyone would ever, for me… You know.”

Your heart is a soaked towel and he has just wrenched it dry. The way he sees himself physically hurts. "I couldn't leave you, Leon.” You sniffle, head shaking as you confess, revealing your devotion. “I could never leave you."

He reaches out, his restrained hands straining against the chains, as if longing to touch you, to reassure you of his own unwavering devotion. But all he can offer is his words. "That’s all I’ve been terrified of," he admits. It stays unknown to you if the subject of the sentence is you leaving him or you not leaving him. "Ever since I caught myself falling for you, that’s what all this has been about and — this shit inside me amplifies the worst in me, and you’re still here. Damnit.” 

Tears well up in your eyes, blurring your vision, but you refuse to let them fall. "Leon, you are not alone in this." You want to kiss away all worries and fears he keeps to himself, now in front of you in all of their intricate, overthought glory. "I made this choice because I believe in you. I believe in us."

His gaze intensifies, searching you for any trace of doubt or unease. But all he finds is unwavering faith, and a love that refuses to be shaken. "I don't deserve you," he murmurs,  barely above a whisper. All of a sudden, the tiredness you know all so well pushes down on him. "Not after everything."

A soft smile graces your lips, a gentle warmth spreading through your entire being. Luis is wrong. He is definitely wrong — this is Leon, and he’ll always be Leon. "And I don’t deserve your love." He immediately looks like he’s going to disagree on the spot, but you don’t give him the chance. "But here we are anyway. I'm here, no matter what. I’ve made my choice. If you’ll have me too—"

The tension in his shoulders eases slightly. "I'll do everything in my power to keep you safe," he vows, engraved with purpose. Just the way he says it could be added to a resume, the self-confidence and intentness of a professional in his field behind the power. "I'll prove to you that I can be the person you deserve."

"Leon, I already know the person you are. And I'm not going anywhere."

Leon's widened gaze inflames, breathing becoming more labored as he hangs his head down and nods a couple times while hiding his face from you. “Okay.”

You didn’t expect that to make you burst out laughing, and his head shoots up when he hears your laughter echoing in the chamber. “Sorry,” you cover your mouth, turning around to not let him see and think you’re mocking him. “Sorry, I’m not laughing at you.” You manage to turn it down to snickering, screaming at yourself to stop already. “It’s just… that was so unironically you and… God, help. I don’t know why this is so funny to me—”

“Okay...”

“Stop! Stop saying okay.” You laugh again at his intonation, pushing the back of your hand against your nose. “That’s all you can say?”

Some sort of fascination surfaces beneath his stoic mask, like he’s someone who’s hearing the birds chirp for the first time. “Actually, I have a lot to say, but…” You watch him rise, his height allowing him to hold his chained wrists on his waist level. He reaches out with his shackled hands, beckoning you to come to his side, yearning for a connection, “You’re too far away for it.”

You jokingly tease. “Will you be a good boy?”

It has an immediate effect on him, sweet adoration stains into something suggestive, lingering between you like a charged current, and you can feel the shift in his demeanor, the warning tilt of his head, the faint red shine swallowing the blue of his eyes, the chains rattling as he grabs onto them in a tight, restrained grip, body tensing, a coiled energy barely contained. 

As his voice emerges in a single, sharp syllable, a low and husky whisper, “Don’t,” it sends a shiver all over your body. The words are measured, deliberate, and carry an undertow of caution that both entices and warns. It's a dark invitation. 

Oh. 

Oh. 

It’s not just you. 

You’re both fucked up. 

And you take a step closer, closing the distance between you, your heart pounding in your chest, and he watches you like a hawk. “I’m just asking a question.”

His eyes glow with an intense crimson hue in response, piercing through the dim light, making you halt when there’s only about five feet left between you and him. Black veins spread across his skin like intricate patterns of ancient curses, marking him up. And extending from his lower back, a large scorpion-like tail emerges, its barbed stinger poised in the air, and just as how the spine is a series of individual vertebrae, small bones stacked one upon the other, his tail too is articulated, allowing it to curl like a snake, curving and undulating with an eerie grace, almost as if it has a life of its own.

It dances through the air, floating towards you, its presence both beguiling and unsettling. You watch, apprehensive and curious, as Leon manipulates his tail, rotating it to show you every angle. As he nudges you gently with it, an unexpected tenderness shines through his alien appearance. "It won't hurt you," he emphasizes, a soothing reassurance. He looks like a creature plucked from the pages of a fantastical novel, but his care for you remains undeniable. "Try touching it."

You observe the chitinous exoskeleton, marveling at its texture and the otherworldly allure it possesses. "Will you feel it?" you ask, a snap of fidget in your curiosity.

Leon's eyes meet yours, a flicker of a mischievous smile playing at the corner of his lips. "That's a dangerous thing to want, don't you think?" His words carry a double meaning, an underlying invitation to explore the depths of desire that lies beneath the surface. In that moment, you realize you've unknowingly become a participant in his intricate game, a delicate dance of discovering boundaries.

"Leon, half-insect or not, I would want every part of you," you confess, unapologetically honest and smoking with desire. A swelling of boldness overtakes you, fueled by a mix of desire and affection. You take a step closer, your hand reaching out to grasp his tail. The texture surprises you—smooth and warm, defying the expectations of a creature born from nightmares. Leon's tail jerks slightly in response to your touch, the connection between you both sending a jolt of static through where you’re touching, and he is momentarily stunned, his ardor momentarily subdued by your unabashed declaration. “I want you, always.”

"Alright, alright. You made your point," he interrupts, a flicker of bashfulness visible beneath his attempt to maintain a composed facade. The teasing spark in his eyes is replaced by a rare sentiment, his emotions laid bare before you. "Well. " Some sort of self-consciousness fogs his expression as he looks down. "Though I do feel the same,"  he concedes, pink creeping across his cheeks.

But you're not finished. You close the remaining distance between you, your eyes locked with his. "Leon, I love you." You pour your heart into those three words, stronger, unmoving, louder, hoping he understands the depth of your affection if he hasn’t gotten it yet.

He looks away for a brief moment, his gaze fixated on something indiscernible, Adam’s apple bobbing up and down. "Yeah," he mumbles softly, almost lost in the space between you.

Undeterred, you reach out to gently grasp his face, turning his gaze back to meet yours. "I love you," you repeat, scolding him that he’s not taking you seriously. You want him to hear it, to understand the magnitude of your feelings.

A flicker of surprise crosses his features, quickly replaced by something akin to relief, leaning into your touch as if you’re the coolness he needs on a hot summer day. He likes hearing it from you, that much is clear, but the unfamiliarity of the sentiment leaves him momentarily at a loss for words. "Okay," he finally responds, his voice a soft affirmation.

You're about to reprimand him, demanding that he say the words you long to hear in return before you unchain him. But before you can voice your frustration, a sudden wave of dizziness crashes over you, throwing your world into disarray. Your vision blurs, the room spinning and tilting on its axis. You desperately blink, hoping to clear your sight, but the disorientation only worsens. The force of gravity seems to intensify, tugging at your stomach and weakening your legs, causing you to stumble forward. The pain strikes you with a merciless blow, knocking you off balance and into Leon's waiting arms. Your hands, once cradling his face, now find purchase on his shoulders for support.

"Hey!" The weight of your limp body causes Leon to follow you down, sinking to his knees just as you do. However, the chains that bind his arms above his head prevent him from fully supporting your torso. In a swift motion, he maneuvers his tail to secure your body against his, stopping you from falling backward. Your head lolls on his shoulder, basically shaking against him.

"Hang in there, come on," he pleads, trying to reach you. "Talk to me, what's happening?"

Struggling to keep the pain under a manageable level, you reply briefly, not wanting to talk. "I don't know... Felt… dizzy..."

"Shit, okay," he curses softly, his concern deepening. "Does it hurt?"

You just make a curt sound, wanting him to let it go and keep yourself from flopping like a fish out of water on the ground from how it’s ripping you apart. 

“I gotta know if it does. Can you tell me?”

You’re suffering, how does he not see? Does he need verbal affirmation that badly?

“Yeah,” you say behind gritted teeth. “Sure does.”

“Do you trust me?”

“Yes.”

“I’m going to sting you, alright? Only a drop of venom into your bloodstream,” he explains as merciful and comforting as he’s able in your state.  “You’ll feel a pinch but it’ll relax you. It might put you in an… aroused state because of your parasite, but you’ll no longer feel pain — it’ll feel good. I’ll take care of you.”

The mention of the potential side effects of whatever he wants to do to you makes your brow furrow in confusion, but there's no time to dwell on it. The pain has become unbearable, hacking at your every thought. "I'll feel good?" you question, dying for any kind of escape from the burning.

"Yeah," Leon affirms, a tenderness that reaches deep into your soul. "You'll feel good."

A stream of questions floods your mind, but Leon interrupts before you can voice them. "Not now," he interjects, pressing the syllables with more stress and emphasis. "Will you let me take care of you?"

His distress resonates with your own need for relief. "Yes," you respond without hesitation. "Yes, okay. This pain is killing me, just do it."

With a swift movement, his scorpion-like tail hovers near your exposed nape, its barbed stinger poised and ready.

"I promise, it'll be over soon," Leon whispers, dead set on his goal. "Just hold on."

The venomous tip of his tail makes contact with your skin and a sharp pinch sends a jolt of sensation through your body, but the initial pain subsides almost instantly, replaced by a soothing coolness that spreads from the injection site. It's an odd sensation, the venom working its way through your bloodstream, numbing the pain and replacing it with a peculiar mix of relaxation and heightened sensitivity.

A soft exhale is pulled from your lips as the effects continue taking hold, the relief washing over you like a gentle wave, and you melt against Leon, wrapping yourself around him, having automatically sought him out on pure instinct. He carefully adjusts his sitting and goes down on the balls of his feet to allow you to crawl on him, ensuring you're comfortable, his tail retracting to support your back for a more comfortable embrace.

"You're doing great," he murmurs, his voice a soothing melody amidst the chaos. "Just let it take effect, I’m here."

The heaviness in your limbs dissipates, replaced by a newfound lightness, as if a mass has been lifted from your body. The world around you becomes hazy, the edges blurred as the arousal Leon had warned about intertwines with the relief spreading through your veins, 

It begins with a tingling warmth that spreads across your limbs, akin to tiny sparks dancing on your flesh, and then, the heat gradually intensifies, caressing your senses with a gentle yet invigorating burn that awakens every nerve ending. But amidst the rising warmth, the usual wave of the venom’s coolness follows, like a frosty breath gently kissing your skin. The burn and the coolness entwine, creating an annoying race of who gets to be on top. The heat stimulates your awareness, drawing attention to how good it feels to have Leon’s strong body against you, how you would like more, how you want to explore this new form of his as he’s ribboned up like a present before you; but simultaneously, the coolness acts as a tranquil connection to reality, tempering the fiery sensations with its gentle touch.

Leon’s unique smell underneath your nose pours into your circulation from your heaving lungs, you snuggle in to get more of his scent, in the crook of his neck, right behind his ear… You can’t help but rub your head against it like it could somehow pass to your own body — it’s all instinct, the space of your head pleasantly misty, the feeling of only wanting to get closer wiggling enthusiastically inside. You notice your hands are on the move later, running up his sides and his back, only when you feel the ripple of bumps on his spine following your fingers gliding up and down as if responding to your touch. 

“Leon…” He sucks in a sibilant sound when your nails run down his back, momentarily shivering against you. “Leon…”

“Yes, I’m here.” It’s his tail that cuddles you against him because his hands are unavailable. “What do you need, sweet girl, hm?”

How do you say you want to fuck his brains out and do as you wish with him as he’s chained when he can’t retaliate, and how turned on you’re getting by the minute? “I need you.”

You hear the chains rattle and glance up briefly to see his hands balled up in the restraints. “How do you need me?”

His tendency to take things slow and enjoy the augmentation of need as it builds up is a formidable adversary to the you of the present, the frustration is testing the limits of your endurance. There’s something carnal in the way you want him right now, eating away at your patience for playing games with him. 

You rise on your knees still framing the outside of his thighs, and taking advantage of the small difference of height it gives you, yank his hair back to make Leon look up at you, his eyebrows arch upward in an arc, the ascent giving away the shock, and his mouth falls agape, lips parting to release a whispered exclamation “I don’t need this dirty talk, I want your dick in my throat.” You stare him down, catching your reflection in his red eyes and see that the same blight webbing him up is also infesting you, shining in your eyes in the same shade of crimson as his. You simply don’t care. “Is that a satisfying answer?”  

His chin lowers, leering lascivious, and you swear the veins on his face become a more prominent shade of black. “Jesus Christ.” He yanks on the chains, the harsh sound higher in pitch with the power behind it. “Gimme the key.”

“Nooooot gonna.” He leans towards you when you scooch away from his lap, but is unable to chase you fully. You fixate on his crotch, mouth watering, throat anticipating taking in his shape, phantom soreness reminding you what’s coming. You reach out to his thighs and place your palms on his knees, running them up awfully slow, feeling the rigidifying limbs under your touch. 

“Huh? Hey, what do you mean—” He’s stuck between trying to get up and staying that way for you. “What, you’re not untying me?”

“Shut up, I’m in heat right now.” You pop the button of his jeans and bring down the zipper, palming his half-hard bulge above his underwear. “Stop complaining.”

His hips jolt up into your hand, eyes fleetingly rolling behind his head from the satisfying contact, and his cock continues to swell up in your hand, straining against the confines of his briefs. “I’m not complaining — ”

You yank his underwear down, his head popping free and dangling, you bring the underwear underneath his hips along with his jeans with a little help from him rising up and allowing them to slide down better. “You brought this on me, so I’ll feel good the way I want to. Stop. Talking.” 

Chuckling in an underestimating mirth, he’s in the middle of saying, “Yes, ma’am—” mockingly when you lift the edge of his top up to shove the crumpled fabric into his mouth, exposing the carved dips and curves of his chest and stomach. He’s rendered shellshocked for only a second before he lukewarmly glares at you, that’s how you know he doesn’t hate it and only acts like he does. That interested swishing of his tail would be enough to break the chains, but he doesn’t attempt it at all. A silent communication passes between you two, that this is an extension of the role-reversal sex you had the day he left for Spain, and he makes it clear he’s down for whatever you want to do with him. 

Without breaking eye contact, you kiss down his chest and the pads of your fingertips glide along his heated, soft and firm skin, and slow down when you reach the plane of his pronounced abs that tense with each lick and open-mouthed nibble from you, the tautness increasing when the way down from his navel and the path you follow along the veins end up becoming torturously unhurried. 

He has to breathe from his nose, and you pick up where he is on the scale of impatience from his control breaking for it to seep into how sharp or deep they become 

You decide to go on your stomach for now,  letting him remain perched, the coldness filtering into your clothes from the ground not really all that important compared to drinking in all of Leon’s crumpled microexpressions. 

A satisfied noise rises from him as you take him into your hand and give a couple pumps and purposefully stick your tongue out to let your spit dribble considerably on it for better slip and slide, he’s starting to get red in the face. 

And when he thinks it’s about to start with the usual opening of getting him in the mood by the standard jerk-off and the buildup from there, you catch him off-guard by taking him all the way into your throat in one go, concentrating to keep your gagging and choking at a manageable bodily response that won’t make you recoil and start coughing — and surprisingly, it doesn’t hurt, whatever’s in that stinger of his is making everything feel different, you are actually scratching an itch at the back of your throat with Leon and it feels so fucking good to give him head and hearing him respond so eagerly to it. 

The sound he makes despite holding his shirt up with his mouth is choked and powerful as his hips jerk forward and pushes into your mouth, his guttural whine stutters from Leon as you swallow around him. He can’t talk and respond or tell you how you’re doing, but all the pretty noises, from gruff groans, to desperate humming, and restrained moaning tell you all about how he’s feeling. 

You run your nails along the skin underneath his naval and the muscles there jump, the bobbing of your head picking up unexpectedly as you’re literally working to rip his climax off, and he doesn’t feel it sneak up on him, breathing getting more rapid and panicked at how fast you’re wrenching it out of his dick and unconscious shallow thrusts meeting your movements right in the middle — you know exactly when he’s about to come from the slight swell of his dick in down your fluttering esophagus and the tightening of his stomach. 

That’s when you stop and take him out with an audible pop, your lips puffed and red, eyes teary. It twitches before slapping against him and his shirt falls from his teeth in an agonized and disappointed groan as his hips stutter forward in an attempt to search for friction, the fucking saliva trail connecting his lips to the fabric makes your heartbeat swoop downwards. “Why? I was right there!—”

You bat your eyelashes at him, blowing cold air on his denied arousal. “I know, baby.”

“You…” His lips draw back in the middle of a low sound at you gripping his base and giving the head kitten licks, alternating between swirling your tongue around and focusing on sucking the tip only. “Ah, what the fuck.” Your tongue delves into the slit of his head and precum gushes forward, his teeth are exposed in a breathy sharp hiss and a jolt.  “Yeah, that’s it… Shit.” 

The view of his fat chest and his strained, sweat-glistening strong neck swallowing is divine, you pick up the momentum again just to see him get worked up enough to throw his head back for the sight of his striking Adam’s apple, the black veins are doing something else to you that has your insides flipping.

You catch the glimpse of his tail swishing in the air, curling at tandem with your movements. You try taking all of him again to see how it’ll move and the sudden stop and trill has you wanting some friction between your legs. “Fuu—ck, your mouth is a vision, full of me.”

You lick along the bigger vein trailing up under his cock. “Does it feel that good?”

He only nods and thrums a small shudder, but you don’t let him off the leash just yet. “How easy.” Leon’s eyes snap open at the audacity. “Being chained and played with like this…” You give him a particularly harsh pump and the chains jangle because of his sudden tug. “Letting it happen because you want it so much. Desperate to be fucked.”

The degradation alone gets him to pulsate in your hand a couple times, his brow wrinkles as if he’s suffering. “You like this.” You drag a sluggardly strong grip up his weeping cock and his tail whips the ground. “Say it.”

His muscles tense and release, creating a rhythmic movement beneath the surface of his groin upon your teeth getting into the mix. “Shit — I love it.” His arms flex, causing his shackles to rattle. “Everything you do — everything you do to me feels amazing. Keep going, nearly there, I’m about to—”

You hum around him, and he clearly feels the vibrations, rising his hips in an unbelievably hot fluid movement and cursing under his breath, ruby-stained eyes glassy and feverish and mouth thinned and bit from inside. His thighs caging you begin to shake, and you’re made aware he’s close again. 

And this time, it’s him who knows you’ll pull back when he needs it the most. “Oh no, you don’t.” 

Something coils around your torso and pins you in place so his dick can’t slip out of your mouth, you struggle for air and attempt to pull back, but Leon barges in on your alarm, hoarse and gravelly. “Easy, it’s just me, don’t worry.”

Your hands grasp to the fabric of the jeans on the inside of his thighs, finally able to comprehend he used his tail to bind you — surprisingly gentle yet immovable, it doesn’t suffocate you, nor hurt you in any way. 

Mouth still around him, you look up to see he’s watching you, possessing a smoldering zeal, hunger a glint on a knife’s edge, shadow of a sly smile dances upon his lips, a knowing smirk, a sense of assuredness amplifying how he has you, one that reveals all that he’s thinking and claims control from your hands. With every heavy breath he takes, his chest rises and falls, revealing the heightened state of his arousal, and it seems his irises glow a shade darker crimson, a pulsating energy radiating from him, a palpable magnetism that ignites a fire within your own being.

“I’m going to move us around, stay still.” 

He makes sure to remove his erection from your mouth without hurting you before it’s with a natural predator’s grace he rises and stands up, his tail maneuvering you around to sit on your knees right in front of him, and you can only gape as he wraps the excess of chains around his wrists so they don’t get in the way, his forearms and biceps pop like they belong to a god like this. 

“Pretty mouth, waiting just for me.” At this height, he’s able to reach down and run a thumb along your bottom lip and push in, rubbing through the length of your tongue, fascinated.  

The giant appendage, then, unwinds around you, but much to your astonishment, doesn’t slither away, the thinnest end sneaking its way between your thighs instead and your legs clamp around it, but the drag forward defying your refusal has you squeaking. God, the jointed nature of it, like some weirdly shaped anal beads, is acting as periodic zaps moving against your heated sex. It even has the strength to fucking lift you up. Your panties are going to be ruined at this rate. “Leon, what—”

“Wanna make you feel good too.” You’re boosted up when it gives you a particularly harsh press, stars shooting everywhere in your vision with the delicious press not just focusing on one area, but rolling through your clit and dipping to make your entrance contract. “I’ll move it, you focus on taking me.”

Fuck, this is basically the thigh riding from before but on another level, that’s so hot —  

His manacled hands wrap around the angry red of his cock, the size of his hands so titillating fisting the length. “I’m gonna fuck your mouth, is that okay?”

You reflexively swallow, mouth watering instantly. “Please. Please.”

“Such a good girl, begging for my cock down your throat. I can’t refuse when you plead like that.” He rewards you by a rich thrust of his tail forward, your eyes closing in delight, you’re sure that a wet spot is forming with all that moving around. “Open up.” 

You obey and loosen your jaw as much as you can to let him set the pace, hands grabbing on the moving appendage between your legs in preparation to be used like some glory hole, but unlike your aggressive start from before, Leon is much more deliberate and unhurried in bottoming out, your head is swimming in a sea of dizzyingly gratifying smog, white and blanked out as he pleasures you through it. 

You get so lost in it that he sharply hisses and caresses your forehead with shaking hands and has to warn, “No teeth, sweet girl. Relax… Yeah, just like that. You’re doing so well, so perfect, making me feel so good.” 

You don’t mean to mewl around him the way you do, but his praises are so sweet as if he’s always getting his dick sucked for the first time, makes you feel appreciated, makes you feel special. 

Tears are streaming down your face, saliva drooling down your chin, you’re sure you’re gonna have a sore throat after this, and that sight would be ugly and messy to you, something you wouldn’t want to show anyone, needlessly embarassing, but it spurs Leon on, he craves prettying you up as he says, loves that you become a mess just for him — and you had missed all of that being a sign of neediness before all this. He loves the feeling of being special just as you do, loves that he’s able to get you filthy like this. 

“Shit — can’t believe I get to have this forever, now… Never thought… Never—” He breathily laughs, the sound turning into a wanton growl as your throat constricts through his drawn-out, unrushed thrusts. He’s babbling like a man in a confessional, speed beginning to pick up, the movement of his tail also reflecting the frenetic climb, sending your snowballing itch spiraling into completion. “Don’t care what happens anymore — don’t care, don’t care, only need this—sah, fuck!”  

His hands hastily rest on top of your hand to keep you in place and you whine and squeal, his stretch digging impossibly further down, a long groan echoing in the chamber at the same time of something metallic shattering and falling off with incredible strength, Leon’s hips twitching in place with your nose buried deep in the fuzz of hair at the base of his cock. Waves of warm spurts drizzle down your esophagus, and you don’t taste anything, but have a go at swallowing on instinct, and it coerces a strained, debauched moan out of him. 

His tail moves to pull you away from him and you sit back on your heels, shaking more so from your impending orgasm being pulled right under your feet like a rug because of the abrupt halt of the rhythm, unable to stop the coughing, wrapping a hand around your throat for dampening the soreness, and before you know it, his lips have taken the place of your hand, smothering your neck and your face with kisses. 

“You did so good. A fucking angel of sin — for me only.” He doesn’t hesitate to entwine his tongue with yours tenderly as if it’s a honeyed treat to lap up, his gratitude and enthusiasm running high as before. The way he speaks into your mouth gets you pressing your legs together to ease the painful, sweet throbbing between your legs. “You were amazing, sucked the soul out of me, holy shit.”

A whiny, “Leon,” and a tug on his shirt is all he needs to know you need him.  

“I know sweet girl, I have you.” His tail sneaks around your waist again, loose in case of your refusal. In the corner of your eye, you see the winch fastening the chains on the ceiling is squashed on the floor, yet his hands are still bound. “You trust me to make you feel good, right?”

“Yes, always.”

“You can say no if you don’t like this.” The sensation of being moved so easily by something alien is frightening as much as it’s arousing when it’s coming from Leon, your anticipation is about to drip down your legs at his tail gently propelling you up to stand on both feet steadily and turning you around so your back is facing Leon. You are bent down from the waist, and the fear of falling makes you jump, but the appendage is fully supporting you, almost making you float, you could stand on your tiptoes with full body weight and you wouldn’t crash on your forehead. “Is this alright?”

You are about to break down in a series of tremors from how much this is turning you on. “Yeah.”

His hands run along your tailbone. “I’m going to chain your wrists behind your waist. That okay?”

“Fuck. Yes.”

“Tell me if it’s too tight.” He doesn’t need to reach for your hands, you align them to rest on your waist on top of each other. He does adjust them a bit and sets you straight after you crane your neck to take a good look at what he’s doing — you’re only able to get a single frame of him unwinding some of the restraints around his wrists to bind them around yours, affectively connecting both your shackled wrists together in a short line of chain. One of his hands grabs and tugs, securing his tail around your torso a bit better at the same time. “How is that? Any discomfort?”

“It’s fine.”

“You sure?”

“Can you please just fuck me already, I’m about to die.”

He lets you go to slide two fingers up your clothed pussy, your folds quite literally pulsing at the contact. “It’s burning up —- you want to brand me, huh?”

You don’t indulge in his running mouth, just wanting to enjoy the fiery pleasure his fondling fingers light in their wake. 

“Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you.” He switches to pulling your pants down together with your panties, but not all the way down, making it hang in the middle of the most supple part of your thighs, efficaciously getting them to act as yet another restraint, this time, around your legs so you won’t be able to part them. Two digits easily slide inside and you yelp, held in place mercilessly. “Fuck,” he says, faintly, a subdued composure, the voice going straight to your pussy and making you clench over his fingers. “You eat me up so eagerly. That hungry, sweet girl?”

Your head’s tingling and buzzing from all that rush of blood in this position, everything gets more overwhelming when you bow your head. You just want him inside you. “Please…”

 You pitifully moan at the loss of your fingers, and the brief squeeze of his tail is comforting. “I’ll relieve you.” The replacement of his bulbous tip running through your lower lips is enough stimulation for your toes to curl inside your shoes. 

You’re shaking with the release of your anticipation, and he curses. “Fuck, you’re sucking me in.” The same chain that binds you both rattles when he grabs your bound wrists, your eyes widening at how his tail also simultaneously pulls you towards him to sink into his girthy length, working together with his hips. 

He’s working you. Using you. Manhandling you, drilling you into him like he’s using a fleshlight as he pleases and everything feels so euphoric, your mind descending into a foggy, floaty bliss despite the tears of instant gratification; the whole burden of responsibility, decision-making, and external pressures melt away and only he exists, and the ecstasy Leon’s spoon-feeding you.

He checks in on you, pulling on your binds, voice tight. “Feel good, sweet girl?” 

“I wa—” You hiccup, followed by a trembling whimper, wanting something for your neglected clit, you can’t reach the threshold like this, you keep rising but not enough. “I wanna come, please, let me—”

“Sshh.” His tail is circling you, like a snake twisting around its prey, and you don’t get it at first that he’s getting more of it into the grip for the fat and curling part of his stinger to be able to reach and roll over your unattended, swollen nub. 

Your mind is so sunken into the pleasure you can’t even worry about the barbed part getting near your vulnerable parts, but he’s an expert at making it knead just the way that gets you uninhibitedly screaming. “I got you, I got you.”

Your legs collapse beneath you, his tail carrying your entire weight as your climax fractures within you unexpectedly, not even taking some time to grow and spread and take time aching — it just explodes, making your body convulse in aftershock shudders, unable to contain your palpitating sobs. 

“Ah, Jesus Christ, fuck!—” The clamp of your cunt around Leon also dropkicks him into his own orgasm, shooting straight into your cervix. He rams into you a couple times before he bottoms out to the hilt, his chained hands having yours in a death-grip, staying like that until the twitching of his cock subsides and he starts going soft. 

When you come to next, the chains are completely gone, broken and shattered on the floor, even. Your clothes are straightened and he sits cross-legged on the ground, his back to a wall, and you’re on his lap, tightly hugged by him, still struggling to catch your breath. The view of his muscular arms around your waist is a delight, as always. 

“I feel disgusting,” you say. A sense of discomfort washes over you, amplified by the lingering physical sensations of sweat and fluids. Your face contorts with a mix of satisfaction and unease, the need to cleanse yourself from the stickiness that clings to your skin uncomfortable.

“I think that was amazing.”

You snort. “Not that — I mean, I want to take a bath, everything feels so sticky.”

Leon plants a kiss to the side of your head. “I’ll take you.” 

He probably means somewhere you can clean yourself, but you can’t help but ask. “Take me where?” 

He pulls you in to snuggle better, resting his forehead on your shoulder, tired but playful. “Well, there’s this castle.” 

He still hasn’t told you all that much about what’s going to happen. There is no salvation from the parasite inside you anymore, it has its home in you, but you know you’re not a captive, not when you share the same chains as him. “After our visit, can I—can we return home, then?”

“I…” The sentence dies as it starts. “I don’t think that’s possible. Not for a while.”

“Because you won’t let me?”

“Because I don’t know what Saddler will want with you.”

He knew the consequences. 

Something inside you makes you change your mind — no, he chose the lesser of two evils for you knowing what was coming. 

You can’t bring yourself to blame him, this was meant to happen — you were meant for this gift, meant for this fate, to carry this creature, share it with him. You feel less doubtful and sure of this now, feel the same red of Leon’s eyes, the black of his veins, you shoulder the agony together. 

Your common sense gives a last breath as it fades into non-existence. “We’re fucked, aren’t we?”

He chuckles, shielded and spiteful. “Yeah.”

“But you still wanted me by your side.”

“I was worried.”

“You were lonely.” He succumbs into a muzzled silence, and you try to reach out once again. “At least we’re together, right?” 

“Yeah… Together in this hell.” You don’t get to see what kind of face he’s making. His deep voice is raspy, and despite his contrition, he’s holding onto you tighter than before. Failure is a shame upon him, and he doesn’t let himself be comforted. “I’m sorry for bringing you down with me.”

“I’d burn for you, anyway. I don’t care.”

He’s brusque and uncompromising. “I wouldn’t let you burn.”

“Then I’d burn with you.” You turn in his lap to look him right in the eyes — his red meets your red. “Together in this hell, right?”

Lambs to the slaughter. 

[scoutswritingcorner]

Hi, could you do a Charlie Morningstar x GN Reader Platonic/ Romantic(sprinkle NSFW) either fic or headcanon? She's my fave aside from Alastor.~ I love her so much as Verbalese paid 50k! (jk)

Sweet As Candy

Charlie Morningstar x GN!Reader

TW: NSFW SPRINKLED IN HERE- MINORS GO AWAY PLEASE!!!

A/N:I have deprived my followers of Charlie content for too long. I am sorry. ALSO I WENT A LIL HEAVY ON THE NSFW PART IM SO SORRY FRIEND! I can talk about Charlie all day, I love her so much.

-👑 You both start off as good friends, you knew her for so long that you just kinda know the best ways to wrangle her in when she gets too excited.

-👑 This girl trusts and loves you so much like even before you both start dating? You say something or give her your honest opinion even though it might hurt her feelings? She gladly listens and thanks you for your input. 

-👑 Oh boy when she realizes she has feelings for you? She’s stuck in a little funk, because you're her best friend in all of hell and now she has feelings for you? What if you reject her? What if you hate her? It takes some divine intervention from Lucifer for her to not constantly break down from overthinking everything. 

-👑 Now this goes without saying, Lucifer? Adores you. You're Charlie's best friend (and crush), but if you hurt her he will kill you. No if ands or buts. Charlie tells him not to threaten you, she doesn’t want him to freak you out.

-👑 Once she realizes you feel the same? OH BOY- She’s a happy camper and just hugs you before immediately pulling away asking if you’re sure because dating THE princess of hell can put a target on your back easily. Once you say you are very much sure you want her and only her? She tears up and starts crying, it’s not sad tears but happy ones! She is just like her father and when she gets super emotional it ends up in tears.

-👑 Omg Kisses abound, like if you don’t like showing a lot of PDA? She kisses your cheek but she actually kisses you in private! But if you don’t mind the kisses? She’s giving you a bazillion before night time. She can’t help it! You’re just too darn cute!

-👑 I have a hunch she loves taking photos of you- Like some? You’re not even paying attention to the camera or you’re just busy with something else, she has a folder in her phone with pictures upon pictures of you. She’s a simp. (The apple really doesn’t fall far from the tree.)

-👑 Also a huge cuddler, just standing somewhere with her? She’s moving behind you to hold you, arms wrapped around your waist as she leans against you. She’s tall asf she has the privilege of doing so. Sitting on her lap? She’s got you locked in and she’s not letting you go anytime soon? She may look weak but this girl is strong asf.

-👑Sleep headcanon rq? She snores but it’s so soft you can’t hear it unless you’re super close to her. Also moves alot, like her legs twitch and she tends to not be comfortable enough so when she is? She starfishes out on the bed so you have to either lay on top of her or get used to waking up with an arm on your face/neck.

-👑 PETNAMES GALORE!! Calls you so many names: Baby, babe, sweetheart, lovebug, the list goes on and on.

ONTO THE NSFW!! WATCH OUT!

-👑 Service top most of the time, only really cares about your own pleasure than her own. But when she’s riled up or showing her true form (*cough* in the show *cough*) she’s very much the dominant one. 

-👑 Most definitely talked to you about this before because she loves and cares for you but has a safeword for both of you, such as the red, yellow and green light or something easy enough both of you can say.

-👑 She loves it when you use her horns as something to grab onto but don’t be too rough as they are sensitive. Other than that? Grab them horns and pull her head around, she loves it. 

-👑 In my mind she hates being degraded but if you want her to degrade you or just talk dirty? Give her a moment to shake the flush off her cheeks then she’ll call you all types of names. 

-👑 Whatever equipment you have down there? Doesn’t matter to her, she loves you and will peg the shit out of you. 

-👑 If you do get to pleasure her? It doesn’t take long until she goes into subspace and starts crying from the pleasure. Check up on her every now and then please, cause she’d be too lost in the pleasure to voice something if it crosses a line for her.

-👑 AFTERCARE QUEEN RIGHT HERE!! She’ll pick you up and take you to her bathroom. Want bathbombs? You got it baby. Want to do face masks as well? Of course!

-👑 Will definitely wash your hair and clean any marks she left on you. Please return the favor and wash her hair too, she’s just a simple girl who wants love.

[mins-fins]

a day for love !

"so…what are we exactly?" "mortal enemies". "oh".

synopsis: zhong chenle has too much on his hands, with his musical education studies and being apart of the NCT U student body and basketball team, he has no time for any distractions, but then he meets you, cocky, flirtatious, attractive you, core member of the NCT U fencing team. he's immediately put off, taken aback my your self absorbency and sky high confidence, he finds it annoying, how you never take anything seriously. zhong chenle does not like you, he hates the way you always have his face red, how you make his legs feel weak, how you continue to run through his mind even when he's trying to not think about you. you're so annoying, and he's carrying that sentiment to his grave, he swears.

pairing: zhong chenle x male!reader

genre: university au, strangers to lovers, annoyed (chenle) x annoying (reader), fluff, crack/comedy, again no angst, lowkey fast burn(?), pining pining pining, chenle's in denial the whole time 😭, just super unserious, angry love confessions (kinda), many many other idol cameos, ft. na jaemin the instigator (and also kinda lee heeseung)

warnings: swearing, sexual jokes, mentions of sexy time, threats against your life in like a romantic way, mentions of drinking, lots of back and forth between our main leads, chenle being the stubbornest person ever

word count: 15k

notes: heyyyy… heyyyy…😇 so this is another draft from march that i abandoned for a good few months before finally getting up off my ass and finishing it, im not going to lie, it could've been much better writing wise, the thing that carries this work is the dynamic between chenle & reader which was soooo fun to write because i loosely based it off a dynamic between my irl friends 😭😭 this was originally supposed to come out in may at best BUT.. a lot happened, this is a birthday gift for the one and only user junjiie (take a shot everytime i mention jj in a note) the silliest, my bsf ever, and the person who i constantly attack with unsolicited spoilers! i apologize jj 😓 he listened to all my insane rants about this thing and i always have to thank him bc he's always interested!! happy birthday jj i love you sm 😿 again named after a yukika song, i have a pattern

IF CHENLE IS ANYTHING THESE DAYS, IT'S ANNOYED. it's already annoying enough that he's practically been worked to death this week, given no breaks by the student body or his coach, but now jaemin has decided to drag him away from his work to watch some stupid match between people he doesn't know. now, chenle isn't the kind of person who likes working on friday evenings, but this friday is different, because he genuinely has so much to do and has no time for distractions of any sort. just the sight of jaemin barging into his dorm was enough to make him and sigh and roll his eyes. it wasn't just that, but it was also his insistent begging for chenle to accompany him to his friends little competition, a friend he doesn't even know to begin with.

chenle isn't just annoyed, he's pissed off, his head hurts and there are so many people talking around him. he's currently overwhelmed with thoughts because he has an assignment to turn in soon and because he's standing here looking after jaemin's stuff, even more pissed because jaemin said he'd only be gone a few minutes.

it's been ten minutes, and jaemin is nowhere to be seen.

the moment jaemin appears, chenle swears he's going to punch him in the face. he crosses his arms and lets out his fifth exasperated sigh of the entire hour, a displeased look makes itself apparent in his eyes, what even is this anyway? some dumb fencing competition? chenle doesn't care about this, or about jaemin's friend that he hasn't met yet. at this point, chenle doesn't even want to meet this friend, he's frustrated.

and yeah, maybe it's stupid of him to be dumping all of his frustrations on this friend he hasn't met yet, but he's sleep deprived, and he wants a cup of coffee.

standing around and waiting for jaemin has become boring, so chenle has begun to scour his surroundings. the banners above display your usual school spirit words, all of them talking about beating the other school or something, he hears the people above him conversing about the upcoming competition, making bets on which fighter they think is gonna win.

it's enough to make chenle snicker, they're betting on this like it's a boxing match, it's just dudes fencing, it truly cannot be that serious.

"all this shit for some dumb fencing competition?"

"well, what crawled up your ass today?"

chenle startles when you seem to come out of nowhere, but his momentary fear immediately becomes annoyance once again as he notices your tone of voice. what is he getting an attitude for? chenle doesn't like you already.

"nothing, where the hell did you even come from?"

chenle looks you up and down, taking in your features. you have bewitching eyes, they're a beautiful shade of light brown, your tall, much taller than chenle, your hair falls prettily around your face, a pretty butterfly necklace adorns your neck (chenle has no idea why he's staring there), and your wearing a varsity jacket, the letters NCT U printed on the side.

ah, so he's an athlete. somehow, chenle doesn't put two and two together, or maybe he isn't exactly thinking about that, just annoyed by your audacity.

"i was just.. observing" you respond, shoving your hands into your pockets as you let a small hum leave your lips. "what's with the fencing hate? i don't think it's that bad.."

"your probably saying that because you're a fencer yourself".

a snort. "well— you caught me there".

chenle raises an eyebrow, now your tone confuses him. what is this guy getting at? he can't read you, and he doesn't really like it.

"i'm not even supposed to be here, i have work to do, but now i'm here looking after jaemin's stuff while he's doing who knows what because i agreed to come watch him support his friend!"

"well there's no need to yell.."

chenle glares at you, a certain distaste in his eyes he doesn't think he could replicate with anyone else, but you do sound kinda unreasonable, so he takes a deep breath. "yeah, sorry".

"it's alright".

there's a silence. chenle doesn't know what kind of conversation this is, he's not the kind of person to just interact with strangers like this, he usually doesn't like having conversations with strangers, but he doesn't want to stop this conversation..for some reason. you intrigue him, so he begins again.

"NCT U fencing? i didn't know our school had a fencing team.."

"maybe you just aren't around much, we are the stars of the show after all".

your words make chenle scoff, a small raise of his eyebrow accompanying it. he crosses his arms and examines your varsity jacket once more, then narrows his eyes. wow, what a high ego. "stars of the show? isn't that a little cocky of you to say?"

"cocky? tell that to my fifteen medals" you reply, and that gets an eye roll out of chenle. "and those are just college medals" you whisper, leaning closer.

chenle somehow gets frozen in his spot, not moving back, leaving the two of you with your faces almost pressed together. if he wasn't speechless right now, he would've pushed you away, but your breath fanning against his face and your sudden closeness makes him feel dizzy.

he stares, and he stares for a while. he allows for his eyes to roam your face, and they instinctively fall down to your lips, your lips which just look so tempting.

what the fuck? you don't even know the guy chenle! why are you thinking about kissing him?

"wow, you must be quite the impressive fencer, then".

his words are meant to come off as sarcastic, and he stops staring at your lips so that he can gently push you away from him, trying his best to ignore his currently reddening cheeks. "i am! i would even say so myself, not to give myself too much credit or anything.."

"well that is giving yourself too much credit" a small hum escapes your lips at his words, and you allow for yourself to be humored by his words. "what about the rest of your team?"

"your acting like i called them shitty fencers" you easily reply, glancing down at your watch and sighing as you notice the time. "i never said they don't bring anything important to the team, i'm just acknowledging how good of an asset to the team i am, and that's totally fine, nothing wrong with it".

your reasoning makes sense, but chenle doesn't this conversation to stop just yet. "that's just a level of confidence that seems a little unruly".

"there's nothing wrong with being confident" you say, and chenle allows for his shoulders to fall. he can't exactly disagree with that. "i know how good of a fencer i am, and you should be applauding me for that".

"maybe i'll applaud you when i actually see you display such skills".

you snicker at chenle's words, he hates that you look so good, he doesn't even know you, but you've managed to both annoy and sort of make him swoon in one go. "well it's your lucky day, you can cheer me on when i beat my opponent in a few minutes".

ah. chenle thinks back to the school spirit banners that are hanging from the ceiling, he thinks back to jaemin, to the stupid promise he made a good few hours ago, and now he's standing here with some overconfident fencer, some overconfident fencer he would've never met if he didn't give in to jaemin's incessant begging.

"that's nice, you really think your gonna win?"

"i don't think, i know, chenle".

chenle is about to counter your words with another remark, but pauses upon hearing his name escape your lips. how did you even know who he was? he's about to start assuming your a stalker or something. "you know my name?"

"you're apart of the student body, you play basketball, and your constantly in the top ranks , everyone knows who you are".

the words get an uncertain smile out of chenle, but he quickly lets it drop because he doesn't want to be smiling because of you. chenle doesn't care, he'll remain stubborn. "yeah, right, glad you know that".

"alright then, you can cheer me on, chenle, i'll be looking for you in the crowd".

chenle scoffs again, now he's completely done with you. "in your dreams.." he mutters, and while he intends for that to not be heard by you, you catch it anyway, but you allow for chenle to think he's in the clear, deciding to not comment on it.

"wish me luck!"

chenle watches you walk away.

he allows for the questions to immediately run through his mind, what the hell was that? why did he want to chase after you like some desperate little man? why didn't he want the conversation to end?

but then again, you are just so annoying, you're so convinced your going to win. chenle almost wants you to lose just so he could laugh in your face about it, but he also does want to watch you face off your opponent, just for entertainment.

and with no jaemin to be seen anywhere, chenle just groans and cusses at the older in his mind, he is genuinely going to punch jaemin when he sees him.

for now, he'll focus on this dumb competition (and on you, wait— no, NOT YOU! he is not focusing on you at all).

CHENLE HAS A HEADACHE THE NEXT DAY, AND HE MAKES sure to put all the blame on jaemin. what kind of friend is he? dragging him off to go see his friend's dumb competition only for him to disappear for more than half the time than proceed to only show up after the competition was almost over and scream in chenle's ear in the entire time. chenle thinks he should start getting paid for hanging out with jaemin, because he can never tell where the other male is half the time, but he's still getting dragged out to shit like this all the time. when jaemin skips his way into chenle's dorm the next morning, he's met with an immediate glare from the chinese, and he seems to have no idea why chenle is so upset with him. "woah, who pissed in your cereal?"

chenle scoffs, throwing jaemin his sweater and going to get a glass of water. "you did, i have a headache because of you".

jaemin laughs at chenle's annoyance, a taunting smile coming to his face as he makes his way towards the younger, a surge of pride in his chest. "really? what did i do?" it isn't a genuine question, and chenle can tell by the exaggerated pout which graces jaemin's features.

"you made me go to your friends stupid competition, then still decided to drag me around after the competition" chenle grits his teeth as he says those words, and all jaemin does is raise a humorous eyebrow, a small hum escapes his lips as he gets another glare from chenle. "not to mention, your friend is so annoying".

jaemin chuckles, getting a small punch in the shoulder from chenle. "oh, so you met y/n then?"

the name doesn't register in chenle's mind, he never actually got to know your name. "is that his name?" just the thought of you has chenle's stomach turning upside down, and he has no idea why. "he pisses me off, he talks too much".

"aww, he didn't make you swoon?"

"absolutely not" chenle says immediately, he is not going to admit how he felt lightheaded just by the sight of you, how you easily had his face red without having to do anything. "he's so into himself, how do you even hang around a guy like that?"

how do you not fall so in love with a guy like that?

"well he has every right to be! y/n has basically won the school all of their fencing awards, a majority of them anyway, i don't get what the hate is all about.."

chenle clears his throat. "i don't hate him, i'm just commenting on his self absorbency".

"your saying that, but you couldn't take your eyes off him the whole competition".

the accusation is enough to make chenle's cheeks go fiery red, what the fuck? he noticed? he opens his mouth to immediately deny the claim, but all he does is stutter whilst trying to clearly articulate his words. "that's not true".

"but it is! you were fangirling more than his actual fangirls! you couldn't even contain yourself!"

chenle rolls his eyes, a small scoff escaping his lips as he tries to ignore his reddening cheeks. "i was not fangirling, you're crazy".

"am i crazy? or are you just in denial?"

"your projecting onto me".

jaemin just snickers, able to see right through chenle's little denying streak. his red cheeks are a clear indication that you probably did end up flustering him, the latter is just too stubborn to admit such a thing. "uh huh, sure, keep telling yourself that chenle".

chenle scoffs, completely turning away from jaemin as he tries to ignore the heat rising in his cheeks. no he wasn't fangirling over you at all, jaemin is just crazy, jaemin is just making stuff up.

at least, that's what his mind tells him.

"YOUR LATE, ZHONG CHENLE" THE WORDS get a small glare from the addressed boy. a chortle sounds from his fellow student body member, kim jungsu, who is humored at the sight of the usually stoic zhong chenle being pissed off, but then again, such a face has become a norm to the titular zhong. "woah, what happened to you?" chenle only scoffs at the question, an exasperated sigh escaping his lips as he ignores the question from choi beomgyu, who only raises an inquisitive eyebrow. the two older boys exchange glances, watching as chenle begins getting up to his usual things. "jaemin decided to hold me up, again" chenle grits his teeth as he thinks about the stupid shenanigans of the na, rolling his eyes.

"what did he do this time?"

"made me walk around the whole school to find something for him.." chenle mutters, pissed off. "but he kept stopping every few minutes to catch up with his old friends!"

beomgyu startles at the sound of chenle's shout paired with the slam of files onto the table. it's often these days that na jaemin seems to be annoying zhong chenle more than anything, the prospect is hilarious, though, he has to admit.

"did you guys hear? y/n got an perfect score on friday!"

the absentminded comment is one chenle so badly wants to ignore, but just the mention of you is enough to make his stomach begin stirring in a way he can't explain. it's monday, why are people still talking about your stupid friday competition? (chenle knows why people still would be talking about it, you're a very talented fencer, he can't deny that).

"did he?"

"what are you guys even expecting at this point? it's y/n, he's never lost a competition once.."

chenle stays silent as he listens to his fellow peers talk about you, your competition, your winnings, just you you you. chenle hates the way you take over his mind, he's only met you once, only talked to you once, but he can't stop thinking about you.

it's a mix of butterflies and some other unknown creature fluttering around in his stomach.

"chenle! how come you and y/n aren't friends?" beomgyu suddenly chimes in, nudging the other in the shoulder. the younger blinks, puzzled by the abrupt question. "you two would be a good.. pair".

chenle knows what he's implying with the emphasis on the word pair (pair? more like couple..), and just the look on his face is enough to give him away. he ignores the red which dusts his cheeks, something that's been happening much more regularly when chenle starts thinking of you, he hates that it does. "we just.. don't know each other like that".

"you two have talked though haven't you?"

chenle is getting bothered by these constant interrogations, he doesn't want to talk about you, because he's not sure he'll be able to keep his ground, or his face from heating up irregularly. "yeah we talked at the competition.."

"oh you went!? how was it?"

"it was uh.." chenle pauses, trying to figure out the words to describe the competition, he isn't even thinking about the competition, he's thinking about you. he can't stop thinking about you, you've been running around in his mind for the past few days. "yeah uh— what you said, y/n got a perfect score.."

chenle quickly turns away from his peers so that he doesn't have to be faced with their several questions about you, mostly because he doesn't know how many excuses he'll be able to make for his red face. he puts away the files as he listens to everyone else continue conversing about you, how known are you? chenle doesn't think he wants to know.

"that can't be tru— wait y/n! come here!"

chenle's heart drops at just the mention of you, and he hears a confused "what?" escape your lips accompanied by the sound of footsteps. he curses in his mind, how is he supposed to avoid you now?

"what's up?"

chenle turns around as he tries to not look at you, but unfortunately, his eyes have other ideas. they drift off to you immediately, and once he looks at you, he can't look away. you look so casual, but you seem to glow. everyone else in the room has basically become nothing, and only you matter. chenle reprimands himself in his head for having such thoughts, he shouldn't be thinking about you so much, especially with you currently in the room. so, he clears his throat and takes his eyes off you.

"beomgyu said—"

"i didn't say anything! don't put the blame on me! dongyun back me up here!"

chenle blinks as he watches his friends dissolve into a full blown argument, with you standing there awkwardly having no idea what was going on. he is quick to tune out the argument, as he's done several times in the past.

but you don't seem to care about the argument transpiring in front of you, seeing as how you slip away from the shouting guys and go over to chenle. "do they always do that?"

chenle can't ignore you now, so he takes in a sigh and looks over at you, his legs immediately feeling like jelly as he locks eyes with you.

you're beautiful, just as beautiful as you were the first time chenle met you and became absorbed in you as a whole. chenle wants to fall over, but he stands his ground, he remains stubborn, he doesn't want to give you that satisfaction.

finally, after what seems like forever, chenle finds his voice, it took him pathetically long to though. "yeah, they argue about stupid shit all the time, don't worry about them".

you snicker, eyeing the student council members who are continuing to go at each other's necks. choi taeyang rubs his temples, completely irritated by this idiotic argument.

you aren't focusing on that, though, because your eyes immediately go back onto chenle. "we never truly established our relationship.. are we friends?"

chenle finds the words baffling. did you really just ask him that? he scrunches his nose, but he can't exactly tell how he feels about the whole thing. "are you really asking me this now?"

you hum, fiddling with your sweater collar. "well, jaemin told me i should try getting on your good side, apparently we need to get to know each other".

"of course he said that".

chenle grits his teeth, but his irritation is feigned, because you snort and look away, your smile this bright, blinding spectacle that chenle could admire for ages. "if you don't want to it's fine" you say, smile unable to be erased.

"i didn't say that" chenle quickly rebuts, much too eager to make that fact known to you. "we can be friends i just.. don't be as annoying as you are".

you gasp, offended. "you think i'm annoying?"

"your just jaemin's copy and paste really".

"is that supposed to be insulting? i happen to like jaemin".

"well that's obvious".

you scoff, crossing your arms. chenle has to stifle his giggles, because watching you look so defeated is just a little bit amusing to him. he can't help his smile, why the fuck do you look cute right now?

"you're so rude, i like you though".

chenle blinks. well he was not expecting that. maybe he doesn't have you all figured out like he thinks, you're unpredictable, how aggravating. he feels his jaw clench as he stares you down. "is that how you always make friends?"

"no.. you keep avoiding the term, though".

"you keep questioning me".

"i just want to get to know you".

"you can do that when we aren't in the student body room".

you roll your eyes, but it's not serious, because nothing is ever serious with you. "okay then, i'll see you some other time, zhong".

you give chenle one last smile before muttering something intelligible to beomgyu, which draws an incredulous gasp from him. you bid your goodbyes to the rest of the student council before once again smiling and making your way out of the door. "he's so dreamy isn't he?"

taeyang snorts, shaking his head. "totally, but i think he liked chenle best".

chenle's face goes bright red the moment he's put on the spot, and jungsu's little giggles meet his ears. "you— he was just being stupid.."

"ohhh, i see".

"wait, chenle and y/n have thing?"

"we do not!" chenle immediately shouts, but as his voice elevates, his cheeks continue to flare. he isn't convincing enough, seeing as how taeyang snickers at the way he heats up embarrassingly. "we do not have a thing! he's just.. annoying".

"so you don't want to fuck him?"

"no!"

but unfortunately, zhong chenle isn't spared from the teasing of his student body members.

"CAN I ASK YOU A STUPID QUESTION?" IT WOULD BE annoying if not completely a norm by now. good god jisung is lucky he's jisung, chenle can't count how many times he's wanted to just clock him square in the face. maybe he's saved from such a fate, but yangyang surely isn't, and chenle is just gearing up the punch as he hears the liu begin snickering. if kun didn't nag so much he probably would've followed the whispering thoughts that told him to shut yangyang up with his fists, but keeping his composure is important. chenle clicks his tongue, tugging at his sweater and rolling his eyes at jisung's subsequent muttering. "okay but don't be mad!" chenle immediately snaps his head towards the younger, and jisung halts in his movements, yangyang's growing laughter is definitely not helping. "you're already mad!"

"i'm not, idiot" chenle grits his teeth, but he relaxes his shoulder and takes a deep breath. "just ask".

"what the hell is going on with you and y/n?"

chenle immediately scrunches his nose, pausing. now how would jisung know about anything that happened between you two? not that anything did happen between you two! it's just strange how chenle meets you on one friday, has like three interactions with you, and suddenly everyone thinks that he has a crush on you or something.

he doesn't! he really doesn't! why isn't anybody convinced?

"nothing! oh my god why is everyone asking me this?"

yangyang snorts, great, now he's going to add his two cents to the mix. "you look at the guy like he solved all of your problems, you sure you don't even want to kiss him?"

chenle scoffs, quickly flipping off yangyang and rolling his eyes. "no, yangyang i don't want to kiss y/n, and i don't stare at him like.. that, who even implied that to you jisung?"

jisung is just the slightest bit terrified of chenle, seeing as how his facial muscles strain to try and fit a smile. "jaemin hyung.."

"and you know heeseung gossips about everything! he's about to put it on the school paper!"

"lee heeseung isn't apart of the school paper, he runs a barely functional gossip blog".

"gossip gets around quickly".

"you guys are acting like i got caught kissing the guy! i'm not in love with him or anything!"

jisung clearly doesn't believe that, and of course yangyang doesn't believe that, seeing as how he doubles over in laughter at chenle's statement of denial. chenle glares, yangyang isn't as funny as he thinks he is. "it's not funny".

"it really is, your cheeks are so red, how are you not in love with him?"

"i'm just not, how do you guys not believe me?"

"it's a bit obvious".

"your terrible at lying".

chenle gasps, dropping his arms at his sides. gosh, even when he is telling the truth everyone thinks he's lying.

and no he's not secretly lying! he is telling the truth! he has absolutely no feelings for you at all!

"i'm not lying".

"well you can go prove yourself then, your boyfriend is right there".

when chenle snaps his head in the direction jisung pointed, he stills, because there you are. his cheeks flare up at the nickname yangyang gave you, the words he's not my boyfriend rest on the tip of his tongue, but they get stuck in his throat when his eyes land on you.

are you fucking everywhere now? chenle talks to you one time and now you suddenly appear every single time he tries to convince himself that he doesn't harbor any romantic feelings towards you. you have to be some kind of psychic, you're probably reading chenle's mind, just ready to show up when he suddenly gets stuck in denial.

"see? your doing that weird love like stare" the whisper gets him out of his daze, his eyes of admiration quickly becoming eyes of hatred fully directed towards his fellow teammate.

"i am not".

jisung blinks, contemplating his words because of the way chenle glares, so his mouth falls shut. "there's nothing going on there, you guys are just stupid".

for the first time ever, yangyang and jisung do something in unison, snicker. "okay chenle, i'll totally believe that".

you laugh in the far distance, the harmony is beautiful, and chenle has to use all of the self control in his body to not turn his head in your direction. he can already imagine your smile, and he has to fight his own smile, chenle can admit that you're annoying, but he can also admit that you have a very pretty smile.

"your lover boy is over there".

you pause, still giggling behind your hand as you glance over at kim minjeong. "who?" you inquire, wincing at her hard pinch to your shoulder. when you turn your head, you grin at the person you see. "i can't exactly figure out why you say that".

"you seem a little obsessed".

you laugh. a huge, polyphonic laugh that would make the words you're hearing seem like absolute nonsense. "obsessed? i like the guy a normal amount".

"woah.. like?"

"platonic feelings do exist ms. kim" you rebut, arms crossing over your chest as you listen to the mutters of your fellow students. "and besides, he doesn't seem to like me much".

"he looks like he's even in love with you".

"you don't even know what love is, jiung".

if you're being completely honest, you have no idea why you're going to extreme lengths to defend yourself like this. zhong chenle is cute, easily aggravated, your actions piss him off insanely quickly, you can see why people would think you feel something for him, you enjoy admiring his face way too much, you zone out on his features way too much, others might get the wrong idea. "fuck you, anyway, there is no way he isn't in love with you".

"in love? are we in a romcom?"

jiung scoffs, and minjeong pinches the bridge of her nose. "are you stupid or do you just not want to admit it?"

"admit what?"

your feigned innocence gets a groan of unison out of your friends.

and maybe a certain zhong is just admiring you from afar..

IT'S NOT USUAL FOR ZHONG CHENLE TO WAKE UP EARLY, and six am is really a stretch he can't believe ended up happening. after minutes of tossing and turning, he screamed into his pillow and rose from his bed to begin his day. classes start in two hours, but he's not going to be able to get back to sleep. he makes sure he doesn't wake daegal, grabs a basketball, and leaves his dorm to make his way to the school gym. it's something he usually does when he finds himself sleepless, playing basketball can get his mind off of literally anything, so whenever he wakes up in the early hours of the morning and can't get back to sleep, he simply makes his way to the school gym to entertain himself for a few hours. it's usually always empty too, so he doesn't have to worry about being interrupted while he's cranky in the morning.

he hums to himself as he dribbles the ball down the hallway, basking in the silence of the air. sometimes people are too much, he can enjoy being alone on most occasions.

the cool air of the gym hits his face as he continues his dribbling, taking a shot and having it land perfectly in the basket. he whistles, proud, but not surprised. it isn't surprising how good he is anymore.

"nice shot".

the moment chenle hears the voice, he has to bite back his groan. you snicker at the expression you see blossom on his features, and chenle turns towards you, lips pressed together. "nice to know you're so happy to see me".

"it's beginning to get ridiculous how you are everywhere" chenle is quick to bite back, and you shake your head, a laugh threatening to escape your lips.

chenle can't even help his smile. oh fuck you. you're evil. you're the evilest being chenle has ever had to share a space with.

he doesn't want you to leave, though.

"are you saying i'm doing this on purpose?"

"exactly what i think" you laugh, fingers picking at the fabrics of your sweater, and chenle finds himself frowning.

"what are you doing up so early?" he inquires, cutting off your response with a question.

you feign thought, rolling your eyes. "i usually wake up early to stretch, maybe get in some practice, it's sort of like a built in alarm clock".

"you wake up at six in the morning every day?"

"it's torture" you reply, eyes glancing around the practically empty space you two stand in. "but i've gotten used to it, coach is always on my ass about it.."

"ohhh because your his star player?"

there's a hint of sarcasm in that question, and your brows furrow as you watch chenle distracts himself with his basketball. "he's just constantly like that".

"okay, so you aren't doing this on purpose?"

"even if i was, is there anything wrong with me wanting to see you?"

chenle pauses, blinking as he lets the words slowly settle into his brain. if he had absolutely no self control, he would've giggled out loud right in the very moment. why are you so.. you? it's absolutely ridiculous, actually, why do you say things like this? do you have no regard for chenle's heart? you have to know what you're saying.

"what? like you have a crush on me or something?"

"seems you want for that to be the case".

chenle opens his mouth to respond, but it closes the moment he sees your smile. he grits his teeth, it's sickening how easily he's about to fall. who allowed for you to have such a pretty smile? he finds himself grateful to even be witnessing such a thing.

he finds himself flustered at how speechless he is, and he sighs, ignoring his heated cheeks. "you and your weird fantasies".

"whatever you say zhong".

chenle groans, quickly wanting to change the topic. "you wanna play?"

you chuckle at the question, shaking your head almost immediately. "oh no i'm not good at basketball".

"it's not that hard, just dribble and shoot".

you seem to find that idea ridiculous, because you laugh again. "you're definitely going to kick my ass".

"maybe i want to do that" chenle smiles, and you narrow your eyes.

"okay, i see the game your playing".

chenle laughs, and you frown at the corresponding sound. "come on, just once? i'll return the favor, i'll fence with you!"

you seem puzzled by that one. "..do you want to?"

"it can't be that hard".

you bite back another laugh. "you know how to be convincing".

chenle raises an eyebrow. "is that a yes?"

you sigh, rolling your eyes. "fine yes, whatever".

"don't 'whatever' me".

you can barely resist your smile as you watch a hint of irritation settle in his eyes. "come on, let's play".

and maybe chenle smiles a little too wide at that, because he can't stop admiring your smile.

CHENLE TAPS HIS PEN AGAINST THE DESK, LISTENING TO the murmurs of the rest of the student body. it's easy to be quiet when in a room full of noisy, immature men. he barely even remembers where most of their conversations go, it's become much too easy to tune them out. beomgyu must have said something insane, because taeyang is giving him that incredulous glare he can only share with someone like beomgyu. god chenle misses hanbin, he's the only person who can contain such idiots (which is amusing, because all he has to do is clap and they all go silent). "who even agreed to that? did mr. jeong tell you anything?" chenle just barely fights his groan, of course they're arguing about this again. maybe he should just get up and scream, then they would all shut the fuck up.

"i already told you! nayeon said—"

"i didn't ask about nayeon, did i?"

beomgyu sucks his teeth, throwing his hands in the air. "see? this is why no one likes talking to you!"

"i'm just stating the obvious".

"you two have been at it for hours! please just let it go".

honda hitomi leans against her hand, just barely able to fight her own exhaustion. she's about to collapse onto the floor and not get up, but she keeps herself awake for the sake of her own sanity. "what did mr. jeong say about the end of the year fair we planned?"

chenle sighs. "he has not gotten back to me on that one".

"good god it's never going to happen at this point! can i just take down the posters?"

"don't lose hope so quickly!"

"at this rate hope no longer exists! we have to wait weeks for a response from the principal himself! aren't we supposed to be hosting all the cool student events?"

"yeah that's what we have chenle for".

chenle ignores the giggles that reply to those words, much too tired to even care anymore. "i need to make sure donghyuck doesn't traumatize daegal.. you guys have a good day" he grabs his stuff and scrunches his nose, almost unable to stand on his legs considering how long he'd been sat.

"why would you let donghyuck babysit daegal?"

"he's broke so i'm practically forcing him to" chenle swings his bag over his shoulder, smiling at the snickers he receives from his members. "i'll see you all tomorrow, and if any of you see hanbin tell him he better come up with a good excuse for being missing".

it's a threat that again has beomgyu throwing his arms up in the air, even if it wasn't directed towards him specifically. "will do boss!"

"don't call me that" chenle just barely misses the incoming whine choi beomgyu lets out when he finishes the response.

and then chenle exits the student body room, his shoulder slumping accompanied by a silent sigh. he just wants to get home without any distractions, no yelling, no stupid jokes that lead nowhere, no one to imply something idiotic that will make his eye twitch—

"chenle! hey!"

well of course that can't happen.

zhong chenle's life will never be peaceful, and that disturbance comes in the form of na jaemin, running towards him with that abhorrent smile on his face. chenle is already praying in his head, because he knows jaemin is just going to try something insane again. "amazing to see you jaemin".

the guy isn't even breathless, which chenle finds amusing considering he was totally bolting the whole way here. "did you hear?"

"what?"

jaemin looks disappointed, and he crosses his arms. "you didn't read the blog post? pretty much everyone has already".

chenle blinks, no longer interested in pretending to humor whatever it is jaemin is going to show him. "everyone?"

"mostly everyone, don't be surprised if gyu yells in your ears about it soon".

chenle scrunches his nose. sensing his complete obliviousness, jaemin sighs and pulls out his phone, giggling before even turning it on. "you and y/n are the school's couple of the month".

chenle's eye twitches.

"excuse me?"

jaemin nudges him, showing him the phone. chenle doesn't even have to read anything, all he has to do is look at the title.

[THE SCHOOLS FENCING STAR & SHOOTING GUARD ARE IN LOVE: BUT WE ALL KINDA KNEW THAT ALREADY..]

chenle sighs, of course lee heeseung wrote it. he rolls his eyes, massaging his temples. "tell me you don't believe this.."

jaemin giggles, turning his phone off. he laughs for a while, but pauses when he realizes chenle isn't laughing with him. "wait.. you two aren't dating?"

"no jaemin, we aren't".

the information flabbergasts him. "what do you mean you aren't!? i thought you two were doing like the secret thing.. the whole yeah were dating but like not publicly thing!"

chenle simply shrugs, turning on his heel and continuing his walk towards the exit. jaemin almost trips on his feet, following closely behind him. "how many times do i have to tell people this? there is nothing going on between y/n and i!"

"so then what were you two doing in the gym?"

chenle stops, glancing behind him to catch a look at jaemin's face. he narrows his eyes, scratching the fabric of his sweater. "talking, jaemin, like you usually do with people".

"six in the morning and you two are just talking?"

"you take everything out of proportion, i'm not sure you know what 'dating' looks like".

"well i know y/n, though, and i know his expressions, he stares at you with so much love it's sick!"

chenle can't even muster another eye roll, he simply keeps quiet at the words, turning around to look forward. "whatever.."

he stares down at the floor, not allowing for the words to get to his head. if he does than he'll begin thinking about you, and if he envisions your smile he won't be able to bite back his own.

IT'S FUNNY HOW QUICK GOSSIP CAN SPREAD, BECAUSE ALL chenle's been presented with in these past few weeks are rumors and mindless gossip. what kind of grip does lee heeseung have on everyone? how does his wannabe gossip blog really do all of this damage? he can't even begin speaking without someone asking if he's dating you. is this what being your boyfriend would be like? suddenly everyone is invested in his business and he can't even live in peace because everyone assumes you two are dating. he's let out enough sighs these past few weeks, he's beginning to get tired of everyone's constant muttering, he can't even talk without annoying himself, and he hasn't had an actual conversation with you in a good two weeks, which was totally unintentional at first, but it slowly became more.. voluntary.

you two don't talk much, simply give glances to each other in hallways. it's not that chenle is avoiding you! it's just that chenle is definitely avoiding you.

he just sort of needs space, for an unchecked amount of time.

you almost completely consume his mind, and because everyone thinks you two are dating, it's hard to not think about you. maybe it was difficult to get you out of his head before, but it is insanely difficult now. he doesn't escape jaemin's snickers, whispers, or even just mentions of your name, you're practically haunting him.

looking at your face ensures that chenle will probably collapse onto the floor.

so chenle's avoiding you for the peace of his mind. he makes excuses for why he doesn't want to see you every time, a tight lipped smile on his face whenever someone brings you up.

and of course, because of his avoidance, even more rumors swirl. something about you two getting into a random fight, a lovers quarrel the audience are calling it. how annoying.

but he can't avoid you forever, because you literally know everyone, including the people in his close knit friend group. so what is chenle supposed to say? it gets harder to come up with excuses for not wanting to be in the same room as you. jaemin keeps sending him weird looks, asking questions with his eyes, but chenle simply walks away.

you seem to want to talk to him, but you also seem to sense that he needs his space, because you don't just suddenly ambush him to ask why he's suddenly avoiding you like the plague (even if you do really want to).

and chenle keeps that track record pretty solid for a while, he dodges all of the questions, stares, you, it almost becomes easy after a while.

but it doesn't stay the same, because of course it doesn't, you always just.. appear.

"you sure you can make it? we don't wanna bother you if you can't".

mark is always so considerate, chenle doesn't know the last time he met a guy so nice. "yeah, yeah i'll be fine! just text me the time and i will be there".

"on time?"

chenle snaps his head towards donghyuck, glaring. the older simply giggles as the younger flips him off, and he scoffs. "yes on time donghyuck, fuck you".

"see you lele!"

chenle scrunches his nose at the nickname, he would flip donghyuck off again if not for wanting to keep his sanity in tact. he has to have some kind of limit, and when he hears yet another giggle spill from donghyuck's lips, he wishes he had acted on his intrusive thoughts.

chenle has a few hours considering they always like going out late (and they wonder why their always tired in the morning), he can binge all of how i met your mother for the seventieth time, and he can keep daegal company enough that she'll tire herself out.

chenle's hands stay shoved in his pockets, it isn't even that cold, he just has an emotional attachment to this sweater.

but then chenle stops, because he just walked the complete opposite direction of where he was supposed to go. he blinks, mentally cursing at himself.

"what an idiot you are zhong chenle".

"well that's rude to say to yourself".

chenle jumps, but he can't be startled for long, because it's you. after avoiding you for almost two weeks (seriously he was so close!), you had successfully cornered him.

well 'cornered' may not be the right term to use in the context, you smile, as if pleased to see him. "feels like i haven't been here in years.."

you glance around, feigning interest in your surroundings. chenle bites into his inner cheek, suddenly feeling the air become awkward. "did i do something wrong?" you inquire, seeming completely.. normal.

"no" chenle almost whispers, turning around as to not stare at you. he begins walking the right way this time, unconsciously inviting you to follow him, which you clearly sense with how you straighten up and begin walking beside him. "it's not you".

"so you're avoiding me for what reason?"

chenle shrugs, silence overtaking the air between you two. he listens to the small mutters of others as you two walk together, he can ignore it easily considering you're right beside him now, maybe it's because you overtake all of his thoughts. "i don't know.. everyone thinks were dating, it feels kind of weird".

"well i guessed that was the case".

chenle again goes silent, you are much calmer about this than he would've expected. it's just something he isn't used to seeing from you, he knows if he was getting avoided so clearly he probably would've blown up on the person, but that's just him. "aren't you mad?"

"not really, i can see where your coming from".

chenle hums, the air again becoming awkward. "i'm sorry" you don't look at him as he apologizes, but you smile anyway.

"it's alright, we technically aren't.. friends so i'm really not that offended".

chenle pauses, well he totally forgot that one. he's the one who said it himself. oh he is such a fucking idiot, but you don't say it to offend him, you simply state it as a fact. "still, i probably would've blown up on you if it was the other way around".

"oh trust me, other people have done way worse, a little ghosting is nothing".

that finally gets a smile out of chenle, and you seemed to miss that smile, because you mirror his expression. "i didn't mean to worry you, none of it is your fault".

"i wouldn't say i was worried, i was just confused, but you have your reasons".

chenle sighs, stopping as you hold the door for him. so you're basically just walking him back to his dorm now, no words even having to be exchanged. that's funny. he doesn't put all of his focus on that, though, you're directly in front of him right now, he should put all of his focus on that.

"so were good, right? no bad blood?"

chenle glances over at you. "there never was any bad blood, i just got into my own head".

"that's good, you still have to make good on that promise of fencing me".

chenle raises an eyebrow, suddenly feeling his cheeks dust red. "fencing and basketball are vastly different".

"obviously, but you kicked my ass so i should get to kick yours".

"it was a pretty close game, ten to six".

"my point still stands".

chenle hums, just barely biting back his laugh. "okay fine, we'll fence, just go easy on me".

"aww, but then it won't be fun!"

chenle childishly sticks his tongue out at you, immediately met with an offended stare. still, you laugh, giggle even. chenle finds it funny how easily he can make you laugh.

"either that or we won't".

"fine then".

your smile indicates to chenle that you definitely don't plan on completely fulfilling that.

you raise your hands up in mock surrender, and chenle simply shakes his head, completely done with you. he stops in front of his door, rummaging through his pockets looking for his keys.

"thanks for walking me" he says, quite literally unable to shake off the weird feeling in his stomach. "even though you kind of just followed me here.."

"we were talking, i didn't know how to just leave".

i didn't want for you to leave anyway.

but chenle doesn't say that one, simply smiles again. "it's fine, thank you again".

"so what are we exactly?"

chenle blinks, just about to open his door when you ask that question. he thinks about it, thoughts chugging like a train.

"mortal enemies".

you snicker, looking down at the floor. "oh".

chenle hums, hand resting on his doorknob. "yeah, have a good day y/n".

"you too chenle".

CHENLE DIDN'T UNDERESTIMATE YOU WHEN HE CHALLENGED you to a fencing match. you've been a fencer as long as you could stand on your two feet, you mentioned in passing once that you'd been fencing since elementary school, introduced to the sport by your father. chenle doesn't know anything about fencing, he's watched one competition and can barely recollect the memories of what went on because it was at that competition that he met you. it's hard to focus on anything when your around, especially the match he literally challenged you to. he wasn't exactly thinking when he brought it up, just really wanting for you to play basketball with him. he stumbles back, tripping on his own feet and falling back onto the floor.

"wow i suck at this" chenle mutters, back resting against the mat on the ground.

your distinct chuckle meets his ears, and chenle lets out a sigh. "well i didn't say it.."

"oh fuck you, your the fencing expert".

"that's what you get when you compete with an actual fencer" you respond, chenle rests the épée beside his laying figure. "you didn't go down without a fight though, four points!"

"four points to twelve points, you think that's a worthy competition?"

"it's impressive for someone whose fencing for the first time ever right now" you remove your fencing mask properly, getting a good look at him on the floor. "i'm sure you could take jiung in a match".

"oh don't mention your teammates, i can't handle any of this, how do you do it?"

you whistle, dropping the épée onto the floor and extending your hand towards chenle. he takes it, feeling a pain spike as he stands on his two legs. "you liar, you said you were gonna go easy".

you simply smile, feigned innocence behind that wretched sight ('wretched' is the wrong word to describe it, chenle absolutely loves your smile).

"that was me going easy" you reply, squeezing his hand against yours.

that's when chenle is brought back to reality. holy shit you two are holding hands. he stares at the spectacle, blinking dumbly as you again snicker at your own words. he pulls his hand away quickly, ignoring the excessive heat of his face.

"oh then i really suck".

"your better than most people".

chenle hums, being better than most people doesn't really mean anything when going against you. "stop frowning, you did well".

chenle is definitely not frowning, he's not! how would you even know that? "well doesn't mean much in these books".

you shake your head, and chenle doesn't frown (but his lips turn downward). he picks the épée up from the floor, twirling it around. "can't just say i'm not good at this?"

"the reason you aren't good at this is because of your handiwork" you quickly respond, stepping closer to him and wrapping your fingers around chenle's wrist. "you have to angle your hand at ninety degrees, it has to be parallel to your foot.."

chenle blinks as you begin explaining the ways for him to improve his fencing. your rambling, very interested in actually helping him instead of just beating him at your own game again. chenle is quite literally on the verge of a heart attack, everything you're saying has blurred into the background as you get closer, the heat in the room steadily rising.

you continue talking, angling chenle's arm forward and pointing the sword straight. chenle cannot focus on what you're saying because you are so.. beautiful? you look so good in this lighting, it has to be criminal. you unconsciously get up in his personal space and chenle's breath hitches, but you don't notice.

"—and when you lunge your other hand should go down to balance your body weight" you mutter, smile on your face as you glance at chenle, who looks midway through a disassociating scene.

"hey, are you even listening to anything i'm saying?" you nudge chenle with your shoulder. chenle snaps out of his little episode and blinks, leaning away from you as he sees how close you are.

"oh.. uh— well".

you sigh, letting go of chenle's wrist and watching it lean down in just the slightest. "nuh uh, keep it up, ninety degrees".

chenle scoffs, but you raise an eyebrow, and he pauses. who knew you could be like that? chenle is just a little afraid seeing you serious. "you really don't have to help me".

"it's out of courtesy".

chenle narrows his eyes, and you whistle again, removing the fencing gear your wearing. "you aren't going against me again are you?"

"absolutely not" chenle shakes his head, another heavy breath leaving his lips. "you're brutal, i can't keep up".

"i'm sure you could".

"you have too much faith in me".

you hum, slipping your sweater back on and shoving your hands into your pockets. chenle again sighs, walking past you. "you could've at least tried to get eight points on me".

"the only way i'd get eight points on you is if you gave them to me" chenle replies, and you hold the door open for him again, watching as he narrows his eyes at you. "and you'd never let me".

"it's good to be competitive".

"at least you said something true".

you two must have a thing for unconsciously walking together now, much too distracted in conversation to even catch the looks your being given.

"i see you guys have made up!"

you pause, smiling at the sight of your longtime friend, and chenle sighs at the sight of jaemin. "why are you so sad?"

"jaemin brings chaos into my life".

jaemin scrunches his nose, offended. "don't be so quick to say that, i brought y/n into your life!"

"exactly".

now it's your turn to be offended, a gasp drawing from you. "wow i see how it is, chenle, maybe you should just go back to ignoring me then".

"you're so petty".

"oh and you aren't? that is completely unfair!"

jaemin glances between the two of you as you begin your mini argument, the bickering between you two surprisingly entertaining him.

what an interesting lovers quarrel.  

"DON'T BE BORING! LET'S GO TO JINYOUNG'S PARTY!" JAEMIN shouted in his ear as he saw chenle trying his best to drift off to sleep. the younger was very much not on board, he wanted to sleep, he wanted to rest, maybe have a romantic dream about you or whatever. it's not like he had a load of work dumped on him tonight, he just didn't want to go out on his fine evening, and he also doesn't know jinyoung that well. he's not the extent of social butterfly jaemin is, he's sort of afraid of being that awkward friend who just follows his much more known friend around. he just knows jaemin is going to ditch him the moment he finds a cute guy to make out with, and that isn't his ideal kind of night. it didn't matter what he said though, jaemin had somehow convinced him to not sleep in his bed all night.

"this room reeks of drunk breath".

"don't be boring, chenle!" that must be jaemin's only response, because he smiles when chenle frowns. "have some fun" he pushes at his shoulder, but chenle simply sighs.

"i can't wake up with a hangover tomorrow.."

"just a little?"

jaemin puts his best puppy dog eyes on display, pouting with his hands clasped together. chenle immediately leans back against the wall, put off by whatever.. this is. he points, pressing his index finger against jaemin's chest. "if you get wasted i'm leaving you".

"that isn't a threat".

yeah, it really isn't, jeno is jaemin's ride or die, he'd carry the guy up the stairs while he was hanging off his shoulder for pete's sake.

so when jaemin does eventually get wasted, chenle isn't even that surprised when jeno shows up to follow him around and make sure he doesn't kill himself.

jinyoung is nice, a little erratic, chenle finds it amusing how easily he gets offended at heeseung's jokes. he almost socked the guy in the face, but then they looked at each other and began laughing loudly about it, they're much too gone to even realize they're being stupid.

chenle could barely take one sip of those drinks without grimacing, he can't even get tipsy, he might fall over from the taste alone, he isn't going to risk it.

he can't stand being alone for long, though, because he finds himself at beomgyu's side, listening to the choi talk his ear off. he doesn't know many of beomgyu's friends, he's met taehyun once, courtesy of jisung surprisingly, but the other guys are practically ghosts to him. one of them really likes bread though, he's never seen a guy so passionate about wheat.

"i can't believe you think strawberry ice cream is good! it's terrible!"

"it's not! you're a pussy! no wonder you can't eat fruit!"

maybe beomgyu and this bread obsessed guy have arguments like this often, because the words sound so practiced chenle assumes they must rehearse this argument for every time they drink. beomgyu huffs, crossing his arms, and he snaps his head over to chenle. "tell soobin he's wrong".

"is that his name?" when he asks that, soobin waves from behind beomgyu, a wide smile displayed on his face. "i have no say here".

beomgyu pouts. "even outside of school you're boring".

"you're arguing about strawberries!"

and just when chenle is about to join the argument about the ethics of strawberry ice cream, he hears something.

"boo!"

chenle almost jumps out of his seat, startled by the sudden sound. he grits his teeth once he's met with your smiling face, and you giggle, your breath reeking of the disgusting alcohol. "oh hello you".

"hiiiiii did you miss me?" you ask, hands clasped together as you try your best to sit, tripping on your feet. you hiccup; "cause i definitely missed you—" a poke to his cheek, another giggle leaves your lips. "—i can't believe you're reeeeal" your words slur and syllables stick together, you clearly aren't in the right mind at the current moment.

you lean half your body weight against chenle, laughing at something you say in your own head (at least that's what chenle assumes is happening, you're simply laughing for no reason). "did you miss me too?"

you jut out your bottom lip, chenle has to turn his head to stare at you. your cheeks are flushed, eyes are wide, and you have a permanent smile on your face. "it's debatable".

"you take that back!"

chenle can just barely stifle his laugh, you're absolutely ridiculous. you pout again, brain fuzzy. "don't laugh at me.."

"how much have you had to drink?" chenle asks, a finger in your hair. the strands are soft, just like he predicted.

"uhhh nothing really like um.. uh— four?" you hold up four fingers, then burst into laughter at the sight of your own hand.

oh. so you're that drunk, you giggle again, a snort following that sound. your head rests onto chenle's shoulders, and you shake as you giggle.

"four drinks? already".

you hiccup again. "jinyoung said.. um, i actually forgot what he said, but he promised me something! i like promises!"

you snap your fingers, leaning back in your seat and almost falling backwards in the process.

chenle watches, listening to the continuous drunk chatter of beomgyu and soobin. he then sighs, tired. "y/n, come on".

you crack open one eye. "whaaaaat? you don't wanna dance?"

"i think you've had enough, let's not dance right now".

"but we have to" your lips turn downward into a frown, visible sadness in your eyes.

"we can dance at another time".

"oh really?" your eyes shine, as if you're already awaiting the moment you two will dance.

"yeah, let me take you home before you end up passing out on the floor".

chenle wraps an arm around your waist, and you wrap an arm around his, but he's basically carrying you around.

"jaem" chenle calls out, grunting as he lifts you from your place. when jaemin turns around, he looks fine, not like what chenle expected. he's met with an immediate eyebrow raise, as expected of jaemin. "i'm taking y/n home.."

"youuu just wanna see my bedroom" you slur, poking chenle again as you practically fall onto him, no longer controlling any of your movements. "hiiiii jaemin!"

"okay, i see" jaemin looks you two up down, and you're still waving while he judges you. "have fun".

"don't start".

at the sight of chenle's piercing glare, jaemin puts his hands up in surrender. "okay, make sure he doesn't die".

"he might end up killing himself anyway.." chenle mutters under his breath, again lifting you up as he sighs.

"byeeeee jaemin! i love you!"

chenle scrunches his nose, and you continue to wave even when jaemin disappears from view. you lean onto him again, noticing his silence. "don't be mad, i love you too".

he glances. "not mad".

you giggle again, wasted beyond words. "no need to lie to me, you're so obvious".

chenle's cheeks flare up at that. alright you fucking psychic.

WHEN YOU TWO MAKE IT BACK TO YOUR DORM, you collapse onto your couch, bringing your knees to your chest. you weren't as talkative on the way back as chenle thought you would be, the moment you two left jinyoung's door, you simply went silent, the many drinks probably went to your head, you must be exhausted, and for the first time in forever, you two don't really bicker. you simply walk along with him in silence, so there are no words exchanged between you two. when you collapse onto your couch, chenle can just barely keep in his laugh. you let out a heavy breath, groaning. "i hate parties.." you mutter against your cushion, scratching at the fabric of the cushion. chenle turns to stare at you, and you let out a groan of pain(?).

"no you don't".

"no i don't".

you stretch your limbs, then hug your knees against your chest. "chenle?" you call out, eyes closed, and arms circled around yourself.

your voice is barely audible, he doesn't think he's heard you be so silent ever. he hums as his response, and you take in a deep breath before asking yet another question. "can you get me a blanket from my room? it's always cold in here.."

chenle nods even though you can't see. "okay, and which door is yours?" he's afraid of accidentally walking into the wrong room, he's heard your roommate isn't exactly the easiest to get on good terms with.

"the one at the far end of the hall" you stretch the final letter of the word 'hall', your sighs endless.

chenle mutters a small response and turns on his heel to make his way towards your room. he hears you let out another sigh, your fatigue following closely behind him as he opens the door.

when he does enter, instead of immediately doing what you asked, he allows for himself to get engrossed in the scenery of your room. the posters which litter the walls, your many fencing awards, medals, trophies, certificates. the photos on your shelves containing some familiar faces, there's one with you and jaemin that chenle can only assume was from way before university.

oh, so they do go that far back.

your room is adorable, it isn't exactly big, but you mastered how to make due with the space you were given. he glances at your bed, and he grabs a good enough blanket, heading back to the living room.

"you're a blessing zhong chenle" you say when he lays the blanket over you, watching as you let your body relax.

chenle stares, simply watching the way you shuffle against your couch. "it's really no problem, sleep well".

"what?"

chenle snaps his head towards you. "sleep well y/n, i'm leaving".

"you can't leave!" you open your eyes, staring at him incredulously. "what happens if i get attacked while you're gone!?"

chenle deadpans, you cannot be serious right now. "you're not getting attacked while i'm gone, y/n, that makes no sense".

you cross your arms, clearly not as completely sober as chenle thought you were. "i need for someone to stick by me, just until wonjin comes back!"

wonjin. oh, that must be your roommate. "and when is he gonna come back exactly?"

"i don't know" you put your own hand on your forehead, wincing at the heat that you feel. "he's a wild card.. kind of".

chenle sighs, of course you're starting with something again. "i can't stay y/n, i really have to get home".

no. he doesn't. he doesn't have to get home. the only real reason would be daegal, who his brother graciously stole for the weekend. he doesn't live with anyone else, so he isn't exactly going home to anyone. he doesn't know why he said that, he just lied to lie.

"no you don't".

you're correct, but chenle wants to remain stubborn. he sucks his teeth, irritated at the pure truth. "just for a few minutes?" you ask, putting on pleading eyes as you stare at the other standing at the arm of the couch. "please? you don't have to stay for long, just until i sleep".

now how can chenle deny that? he can pretend he isn't in love with you while others are around, he can act like the flirting doesn't affect him in the hallways, he can act like nothing's there in the bright light of the day, but now? now? while you're staring at him with pleading eyes? how could he ever deny you?

"i— fine.." chenle sighs, hands dropping at his sides as he steps closer, sitting down beside you on the couch. he doesn't lie down just yet, he isn't that tired. "now will you sleep?"

you nod quickly. "much better, good night".

you rest your head against your couch, snuggling against the blanket as your hand reaches over to take chenle's, intertwining your fingers together. "thanks for staying with me.. you're a good friend".

chenle keeps silent, but you still aren't asleep, because you snort in response to your own words. "sorry, enemy, we're enemies".

chenle gives a chuckle in response. "yep, mortal enemies".

you give a dismissive wave with your free hand, laughing again. "okay okay, i love you, good night" you let your hand drop and keep your eyes closed as you slowly begin drifting off into a slumber.

chenle again pauses.

you what?

his cheeks flare up, just the small confession distracting him enough, your thumb caresses the back of his palm, and the touch amplifies the red of his cheeks.

you love him.

well that's nice.

THE SUNLIGHT PEAKING IN THROUGH THE NEARBY window earns a small wince from chenle, eyes begging to remain shut as the light shines against his eyelids. he shuffles— or, he tries his best to shuffle with the lack of space he's in, a small groan escaping his lips as he tries to wake himself. he goes through an inward battle of trying to adjust his eyesight whilst also attempting to avoid the direct light of the sun, taking a few moments of squinting until he can finally open his eyes, adjusting to his surroundings as he begins to fight the fatigue in his body. oh he is such a fucking liar. he agreed to just a few minutes right beside you, and he fell asleep, right beside you. he woke up before you, and your soft snores become all he hears in the room. "oh my god" chenle massages his own temples, cursing under his breath.

you're still asleep, just barely awaken from your seemingly good dreams as chenle takes in a deep breath, rubbing the exhaustion from his eyes with one hand.

he stares down at your sleeping figure, your hair too messy, cheeks rosy red, and your other hand still holding his, squeezing. he snickers silently, and you must not have been that deep asleep, because you shuffle against your couch.

chenle lets go of your hand to rummage for his phone, and you let out a small sound of defiance as you feel his fingers slip from yours.

he almost laughs again, watching the way your eyebrows furrow. 09:14 am. wow, he doesn't remember the last time he slept that long.

"good morning.." you mutter, though you keep your eyes closed. chenle narrows his own eyes, amused by the sight. you feel around until you grab his hand again, intertwining your fingers. "i'm tired".

"yeah?"

"..and it all hurts".

chenle sighs, unable to get away from your hand squeezing his. "you have ibuprofen or something?"

"i just need to.." you pause, finally getting up, somehow without letting go of chenle's hand. "like walk around for some hours" you wave your free hand dismissively, and when chenle sends you a look, you clear your throat. "sometimes i can just walk in circles and get rid of a hangover".

chenle scrunches his nose, and you laugh at the face he gives you. "i'm not sure why it works that way either, it just does".

"you're a strange guy".

you hum, running a hand through your tousled hair. you two stay silent for a moment, staring at each other. "so you stayed over, huh?"

chenle again scrunches his nose, his cheeks flaring up. "i didn't mean to fall asleep.." he mutters, stubbornness immediately on display. "i was tired".

"aww, you didn't stay for me?"

"don't make me vomit, y/n".

you stick out your tongue, jumping off the couch and dusting off your clothes. "you gonna stay around or would you like for me to walk you out?"

"let me settle into the morning air first.."

"okay weirdo".

chenle almost scoffs, there's no way you're calling him weird, you're as weird as jaemin. maybe that's why, weird people can't grasp their own weirdness, they see it all as completely normal.

"you don't have a shitty hangover do you?"

you shake the bottle of ibuprofen then grab a bottle of water, taking the medication as if simply programmed to do it. you narrow your eyes, picking up on chenle's staring problem. "you stare a lot, huh?"

chenle snaps out of his dissociative state, realizing you asked him a question. "oh no i'm fine, i didn't even try to drink that shitty alcohol".

you snicker, putting the medication away and walking towards the bathroom. "you're simply a little too uptight".

"uptight? how did anyone drink that?"

you shrug from where you are, your voice echoing from the bathroom. "jinyoung is pretty convincing" chenle hears the sink water start running, assuming that you're brushing your teeth.

"not enough for terrible drinks".

chenle rises from his place, trudging behind you towards the bathroom. he stands in the doorway and watches you, he doesn't know why he's so interested in watching you do even the simplest of things, there's simply something about you that makes the simplest of tasks so compelling to watch.

you again catch his eyes, spitting out your toothpaste. "you definitely have a staring problem".

chenle sighs, how is he even supposed to argue with that? he is quite literally proving to you that he has a staring problem.

he doesn't really have one, though, it's just with you that he can't help but stare.

he can't exactly respond to that one, and a smirk shows on your lips, you've rendered him speechless. "oh.. am i right?"

chenle's scoff is stubborn, his arms folding over his chest, there's tease in your voice that makes red spread across his cheeks. "you aren't, i just constantly need to be around someone.."

what a reasonable lie that you clearly buy! you simply roll your eyes in response, he really just lies like it's nothing. you clasp your hands behind your back, lips turning up. "why do you lie to me so much? do i make you nervous or something?"

and it's not like you step closer, you simply stand there with your hands behind your back, a tormenting smile playing on your lips. you aren't doing anything, but chenle's legs feel weak, you're simply standing and smiling, it's nothing crazy, but you are crazy, what gives you the right to stand and smile like that at chenle?

"don't flatter yourself".

you raise an eyebrow, smile permanent. god you look so kissable right now, maybe chenle should give into his desires and lean in.

but he doesn't, he simply scowls, feigning irritation at your lack of action. "sorry, forgot we're mortal enemies and all".

you whistle, hands shoving into your pockets and walking past chenle. "you want me to walk you out now?"

chenle turns as your shoulder brushes against his, following behind you to the door. "you don't have to".

you open your front door, motioning with your head. "i technically already did!" oh so you're trying to be a smart ass, how funny. chenle's face falls, and your lips turn up as his turn down.

"you're so annoying".

"i'm simply here to entertain" you sing, gently pushing chenle out of your dorm. "have a good day enemy!"

and chenle would've flipped you off if he wasn't distracted by your smile.

CHENLE LETS HIS STUBBORNNESS CARRY THROUGHOUT the week, even while you two see each other, occasionally talking, occasionally staring longingly (that's more on chenle's part, you have such intriguing facial features, and not in a creepy way). he definitely does not have dreams about kissing you, about going on dates, or even about you two being a real couple, that would be ridiculous, zhong chenle does not have a crush, and he especially does not have a crush on you. yes the evidence looks pretty undeniable, his stares linger too much, his eyes linger too much, especially on your lips, he practically itches to hold your hand when you two are in public, the whole "mortal enemies" thing becoming an inside joke for you two. you seem perpetually oblivious to chenle's stares, or maybe you're just acting, it's getting a bit difficult to tell.

the rise in romantic tension doesn't help the rumors that were already up in the air, because the more chenle stares at you like he wants to eat you (in very figurative and literal ways), the more people just make assumptions about what exactly is going on between you two.

to be fair, they die down in whispers, but not in speculation. chenle can't even glance at you without another post popping up on heeseung's (frankly terrible) gossip blog about how he's obsessed.

and maybe there's some truth there (but chenle would never admit that, he can't give lee heeseung credence, he actually likes himself), but no one should ever know that, and hopefully you don't, he knows you don't read all the shit online. you do enjoy completely irritating chenle, though, he doesn't remember the last day he had that wasn't fueled by your annoying rants.

now, it's become mundane for you to be everywhere, and though it's never uttered, chenle really doesn't mind. he finds your presence to be enjoying, you entertain him like no other.

so no matter how much he tries to feign stubbornness, he loves your company. it's amazing how someone so annoying could also be someone so entertaining, and so.. well— beautiful too.

it's strange how easily you two fall into a rhythm of just existing together. chenle feels as if his life would be stranger if you weren't showing up abruptly for another strange conversation to follow.

it does become friendship, yes, but you two never say it. there's a peculiar romantic line there that you guys never bring up, there are too many almost kissing moments that never actually amount to kissing. chenle thinks you must be playing with him, psychologically torturing him. you fucking know, he can see it in your stupid smile.

but he doesn't say anything, not wanting to think he's getting it all wrong. if there's something chenle has learned about you, it's that you're unpredictable, and seeing as how you usually act with your other friends, being super affectionate is naturally your thing.

chenle doesn't want to seem stupid, it would be so embarrassing if the feelings he's spent a good few months trying to ignore turned out to be unrequited.

"is this your idea of a dat— oh my god you have a puppy!?"

your voice pitches up as you catch sight of daegal, cooing at the puppy who barked as she saw you enter. chenle glances at you, your eyes practically shining as you stare at his dog. he barely bites back his smile. "this is daegal, she's my daughter".

you kneel down to get a closer look at the adorable puppy, lips jutted into a pout. "hi daegal! how are you?"

though she's a little hostile at first, she takes one step forward, and you ruffle her hair, earning an excited yelp. you look like your about to burst into tears with how adorable she is, and you cast your eyes at chenle. "she's so cute chenle.."

"are you gonna cry?"

you shake your head, but chenle still isn't convinced. "i love her, i should come here more often!" daegal makes a sound you take as agreement, and you gasp again.

"oh wow, you're already replacing me with my dog?"

"absolutely" daegal jumps into your arm, and you melt into the feeling. you close your eyes, basking in the air of chenle's dormitory. "she likes me more than you do".

chenle narrows his eyes, but he can't even pretend to be pissed, because you simply look so ecstatic, how could he even be mad?

"okay baby, come here" he doesn't even have to move his hand, but daegal leaps out of your arms to circle around chenle. "you can't just steal y/n from me" he teases, carrying her in his arms as he makes his way over to his room.

he hears your overdramatic gasp in the distance, the words certainly surprising. "did i just hear what i think i heard!?"

you're practically hopping as you follow behind chenle towards his room, barely able to contain your own excitement. "oh my god you like me!"

chenle snaps his head towards you, a piercing (yet faked) glare in his eyes. "no dummy, were mortal enemies".

"i heard that~" you sing, turning on your heel to glance around chenle's room. "you just always have that large stephen curry poster on your wall?"

"he's my idol" chenle places daegal on his bed, she immediately curls up beside one of his pillows and settles, relaxing.

"seems like an obsession".

"you don't get stephen curry like i do".

you stare incredulously, a small smile on your face. you place your chin onto chenle's shoulder, watching his once serene expression become one of irritation, his eye twitching. "maybe not, but i definitely get you now".

chenle raises an eyebrow, silently questioning those words in the reflection of his mirror. he blinks, almost afraid to catch your eyes, but he already has, he's staring at your spitting image right now.

you peel yourself on him, a dramatic sigh falling from your lips as you stare, hands on your hips. "how long have you had a crush on me?"

chenle narrows his eyes. "excuse me?"

"come on! give me an honest answer! i won't laugh, i like you too you know, it's honestly kind of cute—"

"y/n".

you pause, chenle knew you were about to begin a ramble, so you shut up, angering him not really being on your list of things to do. you give him the stage to speak his mind, and he deadpans at you. "you are so annoying".

"does that mean you do have a crush on me?"

he stares, fighting the smile that threatens to break on his face. "you are so annoying, it's stupid how i have a crush on you, it's so dumb! you're so annoying but it's also what makes you endearing, and charming, and cute and fuck you!"

and maybe chenle does spit such hurtful words, but he doesn't mean them. his face is unbearably red, cheeks heated to the max, it's embarrassing that he's admitting this to you, now all he has left to do is kill himself and change the trajectory of your life forever.

you stare for a moment, and then you begin laughing, small giggles falling from your lips in such a rapid pace chenle is afraid you'll die.

"you always tell people you like them by shouting?"

"you're so annoying".

"is that your way of saying you love me?" you ask, stepping closer with your hands clasped together. "maybe we should talk about it".

"do you want me to die..?" he mutters, face still incredibly hot. he glares again, but he can't even keep his composure. "i'll take back that confession".

"aww, i like it when you yell at me though".

chenle shoves you backward, yet he smiles anyway. you're so annoying, but maybe there's allurement sprinkled in that he can't exactly ignore. "i fucking hate you.." he mumbles.

you again stare, simply pure adoration in your eyes. you again step closer, fingers grazing his jaw in gentle swipes along the edges. you pause, uncharacteristically silent. "can i kiss you?"

chenle stops. oh! well he didn't expect for this to happen now. he looks up, staring for much too long, thinking for much too long. "i— um, yeah.. yes".

the response fizzles into the air, overtaken by the influx of your cherry flavored chapstick, his bottom lip caught between your teeth as your finger draw shapes into his hip. chenle didn't guess this one, maybe it's because he always bites first, but then again, unpredictability is a thing with you.

your teeth scrape against the plush, pink skin, not rough enough to draw blood, you have courtesy. the action produces just the slightest hint of a whimper from chenle, what a fuel to your ego.

when you two pull away for air, chenle's first move is to avoid eye contact. you giggle at the sight of his cherry red cheeks, your fingers still graze his jaw, slowly turning his head in your direction. "hi".

maybe chenle's smile is too wide, but he's done giving a fuck. he begins fiddling with the zipper of your sweater, trying to distract himself. you again laugh, seemingly amused by his actions. "let's not do this before i take you on a date" you whisper, implications high in the air.

chenle's cheeks again flare up, and much too easily as well. "you think i wanna sleep with you right after we just kissed?"

"people are strange.. and you are people".

"you think i'm moving too quick" chenle pokes your cheek, resisting the urge to place a kiss onto it, maybe not now. you hum happily, intertwining your fingers.

"i didn't say it, let me treat you before sex".

the words are much too honest, but chenle loves honest. it's so stupid, you're so stupid. "what makes you think we're having sex?"

"oh just wait".

chenle frowns, eyebrows furrowing. "that sounds like a threat" he states, scratching behind his ear.

you whistle again, hands behind your back as you laugh. "you've definitely said worse, i'll treat you well".

you hold your hand out again, and chenle takes it without any hesitation, basking in the feeling of your soft hands on his own. "okay, i'm holding you to that, if you fail i'll hang your head on my wall".

you snicker, nudging him. "see? you are worse! it's obvious!"

chenle scowls, but it's so lighthearted that he can't even call it a scoff anymore. "you're so annoying".

you tug at his hand, a small act of defiance. "thank you, enemy".

your fingers slip from chenle's, and he can't fight his smile. you're so annoying, yes, but you're also so pretty.

"CAN YOU STOP LOOKING AT ME LIKE YOU WANT to kill me?" if chenle thinks about it, you really are jaemin's twin. jaemin's stare is reminiscent of the ones you share with chenle whenever he glares, arms crossed, nose scrunched. jaemin's lips turn downward into a frown, a frown that directly copies yours, wow, you two are simply carbon copies of each other, no wonder you're such good friends. chenle finds it weird that almost anything can remind him of you now, considering you two have only been dating for two weeks (where did all the time go?), his terrible staring problem hasn't gotten any better anyway, he can stare at you with free reign whenever he wants to. it's too hard to be stubborn when he's so obvious, especially because you could just raise an eyebrow and he'd crumble (only a little though, not all the way).

"how else am i supposed to stare at you?" chenle's eyes hold a certain distaste, and jaemin lets out a loud, overdramatic sigh. "do you always have to ask me stupid questions?"

his hands fall at his sides, an action that chenle judges in it's entirety. "jeno would treat me better than this.."

"go sit with him then".

chenle doesn't have to tell him twice, he stomps his feet like a baby and trudges towards where jeno sits. he can barely stifle his laughter, something about jaemin's stupid way of responding to things is amusing.

chenle might just leave right now, it's not like this is one of the games that one of jaemin's random friends is playing at, this is simply a random volleyball game for a team he doesn't really care about (with no offense to the players).

his hands scratch at the fabric of his pants, he's only here because he decided to give into jaemin's incessant begging. oh screw na jaemin.

"this fucking sucks.."

"is this becoming your thing?"

chenle startles, jumping from his spot with a small squeak. he then relaxes when he sees you, a glare settling in his eyes. "you need to stop doing that" he responds, and you snicker, completely amused. "i didn't think you were coming".

"i was looking for you" you whisper, hands behind your back. "since when is jaemin so convincing to you?"

"he isn't, he's just annoying".

"wonder where i've heard that before" you feign thought, tapping your finger onto your chin. your lips turn up as you catch chenle roll his eyes, he's simply so easy to irritate. "you're so mean to me".

"that's my job".

you gasp, hand placing itself over your heart. "you just stole my cue".

i've unconsciously begun taking up some of your habits too, what the fuck is up with that?

the words aren't said, though. chenle simply reaches over and takes your hand, deciding to not say the obvious. you stare for a moment, then your lips turn up in their usual manner.

"that happens when i spend so much time around you" he tugs you forward by your hand, practically pressing you against him. "i'm picking up your annoying habits".

"is annoying your favorite word?"

"annoying is what you are".

you narrow your eyes, swinging your laced hands back and forth. "but you love me" you sing, much too enamored to even be bothered by his insults.

chenle scoffs, but he doesn't deny, simply squeezes your hand. it's difficult to care about anyone else when you're right here, even the people who send you weird looks (which is strange considering everyone already thought you were dating before you actually were, why is it weird that you two are holding hands?).

he shakes his head. "absolutely not".

you frown, that sick, sad frown that is just much too convincing. there's no reason for you to look so sad so flawlessly, chenle wants to punch you in the face. it's how he'll show his love for you.

the game won't start for a long time, he probably would've died of boredom if you hadn't shown up. "hey you wanna go?"

chenle glances at you. "go where?"

"literally anywhere but here" you state, nudging him with your shoulder. "i won't bore you much, i swear".

chenle sighs, he has no argument for that, he would rather be anywhere but here. "if jaemin texts you, don't answer".

you snicker at that, looking down at the ground. "he's going to think you killed me or something" you mutter, just lightly shuddering at the cold air that hits you both as you exit through the door.

"maybe i will" he responds, his rings would usually clash against your hand if not for the feeling being so mundane. "i have to rip you away from daegal, she's getting too used to you".

"is threatening to kill me your way of showing love?"

chenle stares for a moment, simply basking in everything. your intertwined fingers, the cool evening air, the comfort of it all, maybe chenle isn't exactly all that mad at jaemin, you're right here beside him, talking your ass off, and he laughs, it's all so funny. "sometimes you piss me off".

"i'm hoping you said that with love".

it's gotten much too difficult to successfully act serious around you, you're too funny. "of course i did, stupid".

you raise an eyebrow, an action that makes chenle sigh. you have to know that's his weakness, it's much too easy to get him. "say it, please?"

chenle cannot believe the audacity you have. you greatly piss him off, you bat your eyelashes as you patiently wait for him to confess his love to you.

chenle lets out a loud, exasperated breath. you're so annoying.

"i love you".

your face lights up, cheeks flaring at the confession. you press a kiss to chenle's cheek, enamored.

"i love you too".

[helpmeimmona]

Your safe place.

Pairing: Beelzebub x Early OG game gn!MC (can be either romantic or platonic)

Word count: 736

Warnings: none, I guess (???) pls enjoy

A/N: OHMYGOD I dont know how to do anything yet!!!! I need a masterlist and some other things but i dont know how to do it yet and im very lazy at the moment. I think i liked how this turned out and I hope you guys like it too. English is not my first language so if you find any grammar error pls tell me <333

AND I DONT KNOW HOW TO MAKE A BANNER REALLY THIN SO I CAN SEPARATE THINGS 😭😭😭😭

Sleeping all night in the House Of Lamentation was not an easy task.

There were countless nights when you would wake up in the middle of the night to the sounds of one of the brothers fighting, or Levi bursting into your room to talk about some new anime with an unnecessarily long name, or Mammon's shrieks during Lucifer's punishments.

But today was different. For some reason, the house was peaceful and strangely quiet. No sudden noises. Afraid to jinx it, you just went to sleep as quietly as possible. Maybe the brothers chose peace today. Maybe they were too tired. Maybe they decided to give you a reward for your good work and just let you sleep the whole night today.

Maybe today you were lucky.

"MC..."

You open your eyes. Goddammit, you jinxed it in your thoughts. Good job.

Readjusting your eyes in the dark, your drowsy and sleep-deprived mind focused on who had called your name.

Beel was standing at the end of the bed, munching on some food, which wasn't strange. But something caught your attention. He seemed strangely... helpless. The normally blunt but caring brother, built like a gladiator, was wearing a hurt expression. His eyebrows were furrowed and he seemed desperate to fill his mouth with some snack to keep his lips from trembling.

"Beel? Is something wrong?" You asked, supporting your torso with your elbows to better understand the current situation.

The redhead had his arms glued to his side, his purple hues staring down as if he was afraid he was bothering you.

"Had another nightmare." The boy mumbled, his fingertips playing with the fabric of his sweatpants.

Your heart sank.

He probably had a dream about how he had to choose between his brother and sister, and how he couldn't save Lilith when she died in his arms.

Since Beel confessed to you what happened on the day of the fall, about his sister's death and Belphegor's hatred for humans, you realized that his survivor's guilt would one day eat him alive.

"Wanna sleep here with me?" You offered, without thinking much. "I will keep your nightmares away." You are reassured.

The avatar of gluttony's eyes finally met yours, and a sigh escaped his mouth as if he had been holding it for a long time.

"You don't mind?" He asked.

"Of course not, Beel." You shook your head, lifted your blanket so that he could lay next to you. "Eats."

Beelzebub checked for any signs of crumbs on his clothes or face before he laid on his side, shyly. You chose to wrap your arms around him, starting to stroke the little hairs on his nape and allowing him to hide his head on his chest. You squeezed him, holding his broad shoulders and tracing patterns on his muscular back.

"Wanna talk about it?" You asked softly.

Beel held his torso, intertwining his legs until he was nearly merging with his body and shook his head, seeming to sink more in his skin.

"It's just that... since Belphie's not here, and you don't need to sleep in my room anymore, I feel kinda... lonely." The demon mumbled, his voice muffled against your pajamas and you cooed, squeezing him a bit more. "And I feel good sleeping with you. The nightmares don't come." He said. "You make me feel small."

A soft smile appeared on your face and you took a deep breath. Even the strongest, those who protect need a place to be protected.

"Well, feel free to sleep here whenever you feel like you need it." His grasp on you tightened, and you went back to stroking his hair.

You felt him sigh, and you hoped that even for a little, you could be Beel's safe place.

__________________________________________

"Oi, get up! How much have ya been sleepin' for Lucifer to send me to wake ya up?!" Mmmm, what? What loud voice is that, disturbing your silent and calm night's sleep? "Stupid human, GET! UP! ALREADY!!!"

Something pulled your heat protector, and you whined, seeking body heat from the big thing you were still holding.

"WHA- WHAT THE HELL??" The voice screamed.

Little did you know what awaited you, when you had to listen to Mammon screaming all day about how he caught your and Beel's limbs entwined in the same bed, the redhead holding you for dear life while you both snored in a tranquil slumber.

[moodbroads]

why tf am i writing so many poems latley- anyways this one kinda depressing idk why lolol (im also sick at the moment and a bit sleep deprived so this one might not make sense to most ppl- maybe even me once i sleep XDD)

The bugling cage

Fresh grass smell birds chirping bees and bugs humming in the distance i can hear it all

bright flowers soft sunlight fluffy clouds floating miles above me i can see it all

but i cannot frolic i cannot speak i cannot graze

because its all a dream a memory an imaginary thing

im trapped in my own brain. my body is just a zoo, keeping this ill and depressed bull while it struggles to get free.

it begs to frolic they beg to speak i beg to graze

some people may not agree with my brain but my body seems normal enough for them to talk to me i may have a tail, hooves or a set of antlers but i seem normal enough

until they meet the brain until they meet my real form until they visit the zoo.

[safety-writes-noms]

Midnight Snack

Yay! We reached 200 followers so im just gonna put out a little short story for you guys as a thank you :D

This story has vore in it! It’s all sfw and nonsexual!!!! If you don’t like that, then just ignore this and click away.

Summary; Miguel hasn’t been taking care of himself lately so you decide to make sure he doesn’t keel over and die from exhaustion.

—

Now, you knew beforehand that Miguel is a man dedicated to his job, but this is unreasonable. 

“A week?” He avoids your probing gaze expertly as you frown at him from his desk. “That’s how long you haven’t slept? Do you know how bad that is??”

”I’m busy. I can’t sleep.” He responds with a little shrug, as if it isn’t that big of a deal. As if his skin isn’t worryingly pale and the shadows under his eyes stretch deep. If it weren’t for the fact that you had forced him to eat on a fixed schedule, you assume he would’ve also skipped breakfast, lunch and dinner regularly. While his determination is admirable, it’s seriously worrying to see him in this disheveled state. 

His hair is all mussed up and his eyes are blank, staring uncomprehendingly at the bright monitors covering the entirety of his desk. You scowl, crossing your arms as he steadily ignores you.

”Miguel! Come on, big guy, look at me,” You tap one of his hands and he tears his eyes away from the holographic report to stare at you. “This can’t be healthy. You gotta take a break, man.”

His brows furrow. 

“I can’t. I have to — I have to make sure everything’s fine. Everyone.” He shakes his head stubbornly and you can’t help but huff. He’s pausing, blinking slowly and dragging his eyes back open laboriously as he struggles to function normally, much less hold up a conversation. He’s probably only staying awake through sheer will and spite.

“You can do that after you’ve gotten a good rest, Miguel. You’re gonna end up collapsing or something.” If you could, you’d grab him by the shoulders and shake him. Maybe that’d get some sense into him. Unfortunately, since you’re about the size of his pinky, you settle for pushing at his hand. 

He barely pays you any mind, though he seems pretty out of it in general. He’s not listening. He’ll run himself to the ground, and while it’s not your job to care for him, you’re going to anyway since that’s what a good friend does. Plus it would kinda suck if the leader of the Spider Society died from sleep deprivation. 

“Lyla. Turn the computer screens off, but leave the lights dimmed at 20%,” You call and the glowing hologram flickers to life next to you. 

“Aye aye, Captain,” She salutes cheerfully and the bright orange interfaces go dark. Lyla promptly glances at Miguel and grimaces. “Oh. Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes, boss?”

Miguel musters up a vague frown, bracing himself heavily against the metal of his desk.

“Hey! I needed those. Turn them back on.” He bristles but the words are lukewarm. He has to be completely exhausted because he barely even fights back. Lyla clicks her tongue disapprovingly.

”Nuh uh, I don’t think so.” She wags a finger at him. He bares fangs, though he looks resigned. That’s a pretty good sign. Means he’s pretty close to giving up.

”I made you.”

”Actually, Xina did.” 

“Lyla — “

You clear your throat as loudly as you can and Miguel turns to look at you, irritated. 

“This is your fault,” He mutters sullenly, perfectly audible to your ears. Unrepentant, you grab at one of his fingers again and tug until he grudgingly flips his hand, showing his palm. You hop in easily, keeping steady as he carefully brings you up to his face so you can feel the full extent of his watery scowl. ”Are you happy with yourself?”

“I’ll be happy when you decide to go to sleep.” You bite back and he sighs loudly. 

“If I sleep for a couple of hours, will you get off my case?” He asks exhaustively and you nod your head grudgingly after a moment of contemplation. A couple of hours isn’t the best but you’ll negotiate with him later. 

Lyla claps her hands together happily. 

“Yay! This is great,” She turns to you and glitches up to you, holding her hand out. You take it and the two of you shake in mutual respect. Miguel just watches with a defeated sort of air. For a man who’s usually so stiff and stern, it’s only at the dead of night that he lets himself crumble. You find it somewhat touching that he trusts you enough to show his flaws, even though he pushes against your care most of the time. 

“You’ll both be the death of me,” He groans and Lyla sticks her tongue out at him. 

“I’m actually trying to keep you alive, thanks,” She snarks back before vanishing in a dizzying whirl of golden sparks. Her disembodied voice echoes from the ceiling. “Also, you’re locked out of the computer system for the rest of the night — unless it’s an emergency that needs your assistance. Have a good night, boss!”

Miguel’s head snaps up at her last words before he just sits down heavily in his creaky swivel chair. His head comes down with a loud thunk, the hand with you in it still held aloft. You wince. That couldn’t have felt good. 

You hop off easily, absorbing the impact with a roll as you poke at his cheek. 

“This is no place to take a nap,” You scold.  “Think of the back pain you’ll feel when you wake up tomorrow.” 

He makes a muffled noise of annoyance, but pulls himself up regardless. Miguel sets his hand down in front of you again, which you clamber into quickly. He raises it up to his shoulder, and you take residence there as he begins walking over to the cushy couch shoved in the corner of his rather massive office. The kids had smuggled it in somehow and it just never left. Now, it’s main purpose is for movie nights and the occasional nap or two. 

He slowly lugs his body onto the cushions with a quiet grunt, making sure that you don’t get knocked off with the motion. Even when he’s half asleep and tired out of his mind, he’s still unimaginably careful while handling you. While it’s appreciated now, it can be a bit stifling when out on the field. You just happen to come from a universe smaller than his, you’re not made of glass.

”Two hours. Then I’m going back to work.” He says, phasing away his suit to reveal rumpled but soft looking clothes underneath. It’s some sort of futuristic fashion with a high open collar and unimaginably soft fabric. 

“A whole night.”

”Three hours.”

”A whole entire night.” You insist stubbornly and he blinks.

”… Five hours.” 

“Miguel.”

He huffs, aiming a glare at you with little to no heat. 

“I can’t take that long of a break. I have things to fix and repair. And missions to coordinate.”

You raise an unamused eyebrow. 

“The other spiders can take care of that, Miguel. You have hundreds of incredibly smart people who are willing and eager to help. And Lyla can do that last one. She’s connected to everything.” Miguel still looks hesitant so you decide to sweeten the deal and play your trump card. “Look. I’m tired too, y’know? If you agree to sleep until morning, I’ll let you eat me.”

He’s silent for the count of five before he shifts slightly. 

“Right now?” He raises a brow at you and you nod. 

“Yup. I don’t really mind it, y’know. I think it’s comfy.” Miguel looks faintly confused but seems to be considering his choices. 

“… Fine. A whole night’s sleep.” He finally settles on, and you slip down from his shoulder to his chest, squinting through the darkness you know he can see clearly through. Miguel hesitates for a moment before gently grabbing you from between his thumb and forefinger, lifting you up to his head. 

You dangle from his hold, blinking as he apparently works things out in his head, sharp eyes examining you carefully despite the fact that he has gulped you down before with relative ease. 

“Alright. The watch will make sure you’re fine. Just call me or send me an alert through it and I’ll get you out. Got it?” He asks and you nod eagerly. 

He opens his maw wide and though you can’t really see in the dim light, you can see the yawning abyss of darkness in front of you, highlighted by sharp white teeth and fangs. His breath whooshes over you, making shivers wrack through your body despite the relative warmth of it. You reach up and tap one of the fingers holding you up, signaling that you’re ready and he makes a quiet hum of acknowledgement. 

Miguel inhales slowly and slowly lowers you into his mouth. The first sensation you get is wet. Saliva soaks into your suit and you slip a little, bracing a hand against the slippery soft flesh of his tongue. The second is temperature. Everything is moving around you, so wonderfully alive and warm. His tongue curves underneath you, the powerful muscle shifting so it can wrap around you loosely like an oversized blanket.

His mouth shuts with a quiet click of teeth and all of the faint light from outside is cut off, leaving you within the darkness of Miguel’s body. You go slack and still, letting him absentmindedly taste you, push you from one cheek to the other subconsciously. 

You feel him soak you in spit, not protesting or fighting back as he readies you for the journey below. Miguel is still gentle, careful. Nothing is too rough or hurts at all, even when his tongue tentatively presses you up against the hard palate of the roof of his mouth. After a long moment, he tilts his head back, just barely.

You slide toward his throat, squeezing down the tight fleshy tube accompanied by a couple of large gulps to help get you down entirely. The sound of his swallows is loud and for a moment it’s all you hear as you’re moved down. It’s not a bad pressure and you’re mostly used to it as you slip down from his esophagus and into his belly. 

And man, it’s so much warmer here and also so much more comfortable. The soft flesh here contracts slightly around your body as you find a comfortable position to lie in, tucking yourself against a wall with a yawn. You press a hand against the mass of warmth and squishiness under your fingers, blinking when it ripples across the entire expanse of his stomach. 

It’s quiet for a moment before Miguel clears his throat, his voice oddly loud and muffled at the same time.

”You okay? Need me to get you out?” He asks, and you make a lazy hum in response.

“No, I’m fine, man,” You sink deeper into the comforting warmth and you hear something like a quiet chuckle from above. It’s good to hear him sound relaxed for once. God knows he needs some relaxation anyway. 

“Okay,” he sounds tired and everything is still before your surroundings shift and you tumble somewhat quickly into the side wall of his stomach. He must’ve turned over on his side. ��… Thank you. You care too much about me.”

You frown, picking up on his meaning quickly.

”Well yeah, you’re my friend. Besides, if I was working myself to death, you would’ve done the same, right?” You say and he huffs, laying a palm over his stomach. You can feel it in the way the slimy-squishy walls indent around you. 

“It’s not the same.”

”How so?”

”It just isn’t.” Miguel says firmly and you roll your eyes.

”Agree to disagree. Also, go to sleep! I have no idea how you’ve stayed awake this long. We’ll talk about that tomorrow.” You promise, pressing your hand against the closest “wall”. He makes a quiet noise, but it’s quickly drowned out by the familiar sound of rumbling vibrating through his entire body. The volume of his contented purrs are quiet enough that a person outside would have to strain their ears to hear it.

From where you are right now, the comforting noise is steady and somewhat loud. It’s not overwhelming though — it just blends into the other sounds of his stomach growling and his other organs working somewhere else in his body. You stretch and settle down with a quiet yawn. 

Then everything shifts around you, contracting and moving to cradle you securely in complete warmth and comfort. 

“Goodnight.” Miguel’s low voice echoes from above and you close your eyes. 

“G’night.”

You fall asleep that way and he quickly follows, a hand settled carefully over his stomach and fully content.

[alpinearts]

im normal about my frostpunk ocs (left guy is seth ratigan and right guy is pallav sachdeva)

im going through a giant artblock right now so this all looks like shit but ohh my goddddddd therye soooo goofy. infodump under the cut

before you read, this story has a bad ending. this'll involve talk of cannibalism, murder-suicides, and apocalyptic stuff. i dont think ive done a bad ending before so im going a bit wild with it.

theyre for the frostpunk arks scenario where a bunch of engineers have to preserve seeds for the future of humanity! along the way they gotta automate the whole settlement before a huge storm hits so the seeds survive even after everyone dies.

seth ratigan is the lead mech engineer who helped draft a bunch of automaton designs and pallav sachdeva is the lead botanist. they met in university (roommates because im a sucker for that trope) and fell in love there! both of them are closeted and keep the relationship a secret.

pallav has a sister, nima, whos an ecologist. when they arrive at the arks shes drafted as a scout and gives the reader a view as to whats happening out in the field so to speak. at the beginning of the story when all the engineers are climbing a cliff, seth slips and knocks himself out. everyone keeps climbing except for nima and pallav, and she pulls him to safety. towards the end she gets lost on a scouting expedition and ends up completely spiralling and killing her fellow explorers. cannibalism mightve been involved. she represents corruption in the pursuit of survival. she may or may not be azulin from unicorn wars

sethhhh....... sethhh..... he represents loss of hope. as lead engineer he gives the reader insight into the inner workings of the arks, both mechanically and politically. hes irish and OHH ITS 1:51 AM AND I HAVE WORK AT 9 AM !!!!! hes IRISH!!! and AWESOME!!!!! AND HE SERVES AS THE VOICE OF DOUBT!!! towards the end as the storm approaches, he gets completely overworked by the leader and the stress + sleep deprivation just drives him over the edge. and at the height of the storm when everyone else is dead he kinda. he kinda kills pallav. and then himself. not cool dude.

pallav serves as our insight into how the people are reacting to all this and he represents altruism + perseverence in the face of certain death. oh its 1:55. oh my god. once the arks are fully automated he gets moved to the hothouses as a supervisor, which means he has more proximity to cookhouses and medical tents than our other protagonists. while seth and nima go from kindhearted and optimistic to corrupt and hopeless, pallav stays steady. throughout the whole series he maintains a positive attitude and is always looking to help people. at first seth just laughs along and entertains him, such as the scene at the very top of this post where they're talking about flowers and cottages. im thinking pallav wants to pretend with seth, for just a moment, that all of this will blow over and they can go back to their life in england, get a cottage and whatnot. seth pushes back saying that realistically they wont make it, pallav asks him to play along and so he does. its a stark contrast to their deaths and how much the arks have changed them.

the seedlings survived, but at what cost?

[kaisfruit]

junkrat x lucio wholesome hcs PLEEAASEEE PLEASE PLEASE 🙏🙏🙏

Boombox (Junkrat x Lucio) Wholesome HCs

A/N: IK THIS SAYS ANON BUT THIS IS MY BFF YALL THX U FOR REQUESTING POOKIE ILY <333 also this just kinda turned into boombox hcs in general im srry qwq warnings: junkrat is his own warning that's it

I'm just in love with them. I need to get over that first before I type ANYTHING

anyways-

Lucio staying up with Junkrat when Jamison is really into whatever he's working on at the moment

To be honest, seeing Lucio get tired makes him feel a bit bad and it ends with them both going to bed bc it's okay if Jamie is sleep deprived but it can't be his fault that Lucio is as well. That won't do at all!

And i see a lot of ppl being like "Lucio helps calm Jamie down <3"

BFFR

Lucio is an enabler.

Junkrat: BABE! WANNA SEE HOW MANY BOMBS IT TAKES FOR ME TO PASS OUT FROM SMOKE INHALATION? <3

Lucio: Hell yeah. Lemme get my phone

No one else is allowed to find the video funny tho

That's right. Lucio def notices how everyone in OW treats Jamie (idc im projecting here. WHY IS EVERYONE SO MEAN TO HIM IDC IF HE'S A CRIMINAL HE'S FUNNY)

DVa can maybe find it a bit funny, but that's cuz she gets BFF privileges

Lucio constantly hitting Junkrat with the "hold on, this song reminds me of you-"

Eventually he just makes a whole playlist

Junkrat has it blasting constantly in his workshop

That or he has every song by Lucio on shuffle

Now, Jamison's,,,talent,,, is a bit harder to show affection with

It took Lucio a long time to really grasp Jamie's love language, but now he knows that 99% of the time that Junk's bombs towards him are romantic

The other 1% are accidents and Lucio is the only person Junkrat apologizes to

He doesn't even do that for Roadhog, so this is a very rare honor

Junkrat is so on board with Lucio being a freedom fighter

"HELL YEAH! fuck the government! down with the enforcer! BLOW THEM UP!"

The enthusiasm is much appreciated, but Lucio does have to explain in detail what he's really fighting for

Junkrat's chaotic nature is just on board with anything

And, despite being the resident yapper of overwatch, he really does like listening to lucio telling him abt things he wasn't aware of while being in Australia

Lucio's telling him so ofc it has GOT to be important, yk?

Sorry this is all just such word vomit. They're my two mains and I just....love them both sm i cant

They're just such a chaotic duo together

Like yeah, Lucio is a pretty chill guy but god does Jamison bring out the worst in him sometimes. They're perfect for eachother

On the rare occasion, Lucio can get Junkrat to settle down long enough for cuddles <3 ofc the lad is still a bit twitchy but it helps him realize that maybe this isn't so bad

Lucio shows Junkrat a kind of love Jamison has never seen before and Junkrat helps Lucio learn that it's okay to lose his cool sometimes

They just compliment each other so well

TL;DR Lucio and Junkrat are so good for each other I will throw hands over this

[pseudowho]

haitch i think this is a very personal question but i’m having this little moment in my life where i don’t know what i’m gonna do and you’re someone that i trust to make this question

how did you choose your major/job ? i’m brazilian and we had this huge exam that is basically the way to get into college/university and on the 13th i will get my results and depending on them i will know if i’m able to get to into a good place (here we have public universities, like you don’t pay shit but it’s kinda of hard to get in and you need to have “decent” results but we also have private ones)

i’m struggling because i don’t really have something that i dream of doing and i know that i don’t need to do something for the rest of my life based on the major that i did but it’s just so hard

i’m not against going to a different city/state for it, my main struggle is just deciding, obviously i know that going to a new place is going to be hard since everyone that i know lives in the same state as i do at this moment and going to a place without someone to help on a emergency is hard and probably dangerous

i’m just sad and anxious and i don’t know what to do with my life right now, i always thought that i was too stupid to do certain majors (i know i’m not but it’s hard to not think this was when you were never encouraged)

im really sorry for the long message just to ask a question, i just thought that giving you a little perspective would help

also i’m pretty sure that i made some grammatical mistakes but i’m sleep deprived and with a killing headache i’m sorry

Morning! 🌞 I'm sorry you're feeling shit. Take some pain relief and have some water if you can. I'm sure it's really late there, but early here.

The truth is, it's normal to not know what you want to do, with a job or career. Especially, as young as you are. Our society pushes us to choose a route early, before we even truly know ourselves, or what the world of work in any given career is like.

I, for instance, would choose something other than Midwifery, if I could go back with all the knowledge I have to my 18 year old self. It's not to say I don't love the job, and it's changed me as a person for the better I think; but it's also taken a lot away from me. As it is, I cannot regret it-- I've helped a lot of people and it's made me who I am today. But...you see what I mean. Still, I would choose something else.

It's important to accept that whatever job you take, it's how you grow as a person that will affect your future happiness the most. You are not your job. The way you grow to understand yourself as an adult, your morals and ethics, your ability to remain accountable for your actions and growth at all times, are vital, whether you're a cashier, or a horticulturalist,

Still, I'm realistic; you do, unfortunately, in the world in which we live, have to make a decision.

I think the best thing I can recommend, is trying to widen your perspective away from a singular job, and into an career area; ask yourself:

Is there a job I could do which would be adjacent to a lot of different jobs I may be interested in, one day?

Is there a job I could take, which would offer me further training opportunities which would make me a good candidate for a great number of different jobs?

Is there a job I can take which would offer me attractive transferable skills?

Is it more important, at this point in time, to choose any job in my local area, so I can work on myself, my anxiety and my self-confidence before I venture further into the world?

Don't be overwhelmed by these questions. You are not a failure if you don't launch headfirst into the career you will have for the rest of your life in your early twenties. It's just an opportunity to know yourself better. Build the infrastructure on which you're healthy enough, and varied enough in your transferable skills, to then confidently choose a career path if and when you feel ready. There will be opportunities.

You are smart and capable enough to do this. Come out of panic mode, and into the light.

And remember...as our favourite best boy says:

Whatever you do, there will always be an element of work that is shit.

But the moral of Nanami's story is that enjoying life should not be put on the back burner until certain 'ideal conditions' are met, and that you are not the sum of your job. And also that you should hit things that personally offend you, protect the weak, and remain suspicious of people you barely know who are touchy-feely. And you should help the babies.

Love,

-- Haitch xxx

[foxnikki]

Hi hiii :3 im kinda curious for the matchup thingy

Whenever you have time i would like one from jjk, bnha and kny :3

Male please - and also romantic

Uhhh things about me uhhhhhhhhhh

-very sleep deprived

-very scattered motivation/tries to do 762364893382 things at once

-very calm and quiet unless im around my friends or yapping about my special interests

-special interests are sharks, human biology and my OCs, as well as Freminet from Genshin Impact :3

-I’m told I look sad all the time (I’m just tired)

-great at debating and logic n stuff

-my brain works faster than my body sometimes and I end up short-circuiting

-certified trinket collector

-horrible at prioritizing

:3 thank youuu! Take your time!

a/n: hope you like this :3

You Got...

Choso Kamo !

Did you see his eye bags? He looks like he didn't sleep in a long while, but not tired at all.

Helps you with the many things you do at the moment - simply try to reduce your workload.

Sometimes he might say something to break the silence, but the first time you open up to him and start talking to him he gets very excited.

Would definetly listen you yapping and talking about your interests, he looks really interested about sharks and your OCS too.

He's a curious guy, so when you mention Genshin Impact he would start making questions. Maybe you can try to teach him how to play, hihihi :3

Eijiro Kirishima !

Same passion for sharks

Likes talking with you about your interests and his too.

His body works faster than his brain - please stop him before he does something stupid

Would ask about your collection of trinket and might get interested.

He would try to convince you to sleep more. According to him, sleeping as much as you need is good for you.

Tanjiro Kamado !

Definetly a yapper. He might end up talking about the training he had done with the hashiras.

But of course he would like listening to you. He looks very interested about your ocs and sharks too.

He likes to help you, even if he might end up getting messed up himself. Don't worry, he doesn't mind.

Does he understand that you are tired - smell? Maybe. The boy has an incredible sense of smell.

[book-of-legends]

@ask-noonescity: Cresselia trotted over to the Jirachi in excitement "Oh my ! I can sense it! You are a Jirachi correct??" she giggled lightly "You even look like my universes little star so tired ~" she chimed happily before eyeing the crown as she titled her head "Are you a...so called...roy-al-itheee...?" she awkwardly stammered through her words as she clearly hasn't interacted with anyone as much "I-I apologize im new to whole terms and stuff...I dont really venture out of my bubble" she chuckled awkwardly "Basically the crown its important correct?"

"D-do I know you??" Earendel seemed completely baffled at the fact someone approached him, Usually people ignored him. He wasn't exactly the most talkative of Hope's children, or... rather people never gave him the chance to be. Despite the confusion, he looked more worried than anything.

"I am a Jirachi... you're right about both those things... How did you know what kind of Pokemon I was?" How odd. Maybe she was some kind of soul reader? Wait... was it also that obvious how sleep-deprived he was? Perhaps he was just easy to read.

As he spoke he nervously looked around, he still found it extremely strange how direct she was. But it was a nice change from people generally avoiding him. "It's okay, I'm not really good with words either. It's actually why I don't talk at public events and stuff, I don't have the vocabulary to do that like the rest of my family. I'm kinda the odd one out in that area." "Pretty sure it's pronounced royalty but... don't take my word for it. You'd have to ask my little brother, he's the smart one, not me. I might be the older one, but It really feels like he is sometimes... even if I baby him a lot." "Oh! Yeah. Sorry. Um. I forgot, you asked a question."

"My mom's pretty well-loved, so, our people demand we wear the crowns at events to... you know, bring Hope and Harmony to the realm. I guess just think of it as a blessing of good times and prosperity?" "I don't wear it in my free time, trust me. Not really my cup of tea, I'd rather exist in the background." He sighed before looking back towards her. "Hmmm."

"You kind of remind me of a little bird too... so. Uhmmmm." The Jirachi quietly stared at her for a long moment, taking in all the details of her appearance before giving his final guess.

"Maybe a shiny one?" He gave a nervous smile, "I'm not really good at guessing... If you couldn't tell." "I really like your clothing though... I honestly wish I could pull off cute outfits like that. I'm not really used to my human form so this is the only thing I own. Pretty lame but yeah. That's about it."

[ Ask from @ask-noonescity ]