#it’s the dialogue that messes me up i swear

[bcyhoods]

i promise i can usually write guys give me a chance please im begging im so good

[galaxy-fleur]

˗ˏˋ Thoughtful Care ˎˊ˗

Pairing: RE2R!Leon/gn!reader. Summary: After escaping the hell on Earth that was Racoon City, you are now stuck in a dingy motel room that will be your safe haven for the time being. As you and your little group try to get your bearings together, you get a chance to spend some much-needed alone time with Leon after your eventful night together. As it turns out, tending to one's wounds is a more intimate experience than you thought. Word Count: <17k words; AO3 link. Notes: One use of Y/N, switching POV, some mutual pining, kissing, you take care of Leon's wounds, brief discussion of Ada, Claire and Sherry cameo. Credit: divider by @/saradika-graphics.

Life is a mysterious thing. You haven't ever considered yourself to be someone particularly special. You were always just an ordinary person, with a pretty ordinary life, and ordinary problems someone your age would typically be dealing with. You never once thought of that as something worthy being upset about. Being ordinary meant having your life in order. It meant that your daily routine was comfortable for you. Pleasant. Safe. Small daily problems that keep your mind occupied are really not appreciated enough. There is a very fragile feeling of peace in worrying over not being late to work tomorrow, or what to buy for lunch.

A very fragile feeling of peace that was forever broken for you in a single, horrible night.

You definitely never anticipated yourself to end up in the middle of some deadly outbreak straight out of a horror movie. Sure, you may have joked around with friends on how you would do in a horror story once or twice, but that was the extent of it. Jokes. Make-belief. You can indulge in fantasies about anything while you are safe and sound, however insane those fantasies may be. It's a completely different story when you are suddenly forced to shoot someone who is neither dead nor alive.

There were some that you even recognized.

A cute baker boy you remember complimenting on his new haircut during your visit to Racoon City a few months back.

A young teacher fresh out of college who shared many meaningful conversations with you near the Orphanage.

An elderly neighbor you once helped cross the street, after which he kindly invited you for tea next time you'll come to visit.

A promise that was never to be fulfilled now. And realizing that you would probably end up among them if you didn't move out of the city was... chilling, to say the least. 

Racoon City, once a place of many fond memories for you, has now become nothing but a living, gruesome nightmare that you will likely never forget. A part of you still wonders how you even managed to keep yourself alive through it all in the first place. But, somehow, you did. In part, due to a very fortunate encounter with a rookie cop who seemed to have arrived in the city not long after you. You barely spent a day in there, yet it felt like a lifetime. But despite everything fate threw your way, you two remained united, only briefly forced apart from each other, but ultimately rejoined again.

At the end of the day, it felt good to at least not be alone in this. To know that someone has your back. Heck, even simply having someone there to talk to made things just a tiny bit easier. Navigating the blood-stained corridors of the ruined Police Station on your own would have made you lose your mind for sure.

Survival is not a pretty nor heroic endeavor. You've lost people. In fact, you'd say that you've lost way more than you've saved. Your heart has been permanently stained by witnessing so much senseless death and violence in such a short time. At least you have shared this awful stain with Leon. And it's always easier to share a burden than to carry it alone.

In the end, while you didn't achieve anything world-changing or save the city, you managed to escape together, relatively safe and sound. Despite being battered, covered in blood and grime, you two at least have the privilege of living another day. One that not many share, sadly.

You even managed to reunite with a pair of other survivors along the way - Claire and Sherry - who clearly had their own stories of shared survival to tell. So, you all made the decision to stick together from then on. Each of the four of you with their own scars to bear, whether physical or mental.

Tired, and a bit lost on what to do next, you all decided to spend the day at the nearest shabby motel. To get some much-needed rest before deciding on what to do next. Not the most ideal of places, but after the night you had, a clean bed to sleep in and a safe room with no metallic stench of blood clinging to your nostrils, was more than enough to feel relieved. Although it was rather cramped with all four of you huddling to share the compact space you've been given. But it was also an undeniable source of comfort to not be alone. Furthermore, your body was so utterly exhausted that you couldn't really afford to be picky.

In fact, you're pretty sure that you blacked out as soon as your head hit the pillow. All four of you shared that same sentiment, it seems. You all slept through the entire day and most of the night, your drained minds and bodies hungry for precious hours of peace and safely. 

When next morning came, Claire went out with Sherry to get breakfast for you all from the nearest diner, while you and Leon stayed back together in the motel. It was definitely... strange. It was strange to share so much with someone you've only met about about a day ago. Though, considering that you spent the entirely of the last day sleeping, it pretty much felt like yesterday. You met Leon having no prior knowledge of him whatsoever. He wasn't even from Racoon City. You couldn't have known him if you've tried. Yet, the shared experience of survival side by side made you feel closer to him than to some of your friends back home.

Human minds work in mysterious ways.

So, here you are now, stuck all alone with Leon, for the first time since you reunited with Claire on the train. To avoid any unwanted awkwardness, you decide to break the silence at last.

"So...How'd you sleep?"

With a small yawn, Leon stirs in his bed and shifts onto his side. He slept the longest out of all you. Knocked out cold and waking up only approximately ten or so minutes ago. He's still rubbing at his bleary eyes, clearly not fully awake despite his efforts to appear alert for you. Given that he was also the one in the worst shape among you all, no one really blamed him for it. As the morning sun trickles through the shutters, light streaks across his face, painting his features into soft shades of red and yellow. It's a cute look on him, in a way. Though you don't linger on that thought too much. He examines the dimly lit room for a moment, almost like he needs a moment to remember how he got here in the first place, before his eyes settle on you standing by the window.

You kept the shutters down on purpose, to keep the morning sun away, making the room appear rather dark, aside from long stripes of bright yellow from the sunlight stubbornly peeking through. Though, it's definitely a first for you to find such comfort in a motel room, of all places.

Leon rolls over onto his back with a small, pained grunt, propping himself up slightly with his good arm. His voice is muffled and groggy as he answers, and you smile to yourself at the sound of it, stiffling a snort: "Honestly... Can't really complain. This might be the best sleep I've had in a while, all things considered."

"Well, I guess at least some of us are well-rested," you say, indirectly referring to your own rather worn out state despite the good 15 hours of sleep you got. You appreciate the cleanliness of the fresh air coming from the window for another short moment, inhaling with your full chest to fill your lungs to the brim. Compared to the foul stench of blood and rot you had grown a tolerance for now, even the somewhat dusty air from the curb felt like you were breathing on top of the cleanest mountain. But, you step away and sit back down on the other bed next to Leon's, leaning back on your palms comfortably. "Claire and Sherry are out to get us all some breakfast. We decided not to wake you."

Leon sits up and gently stretches out his shoulders, wincing slightily at the motion. No wonder, considering the huge, bloody bandage wrapped around his shoulder. Despite your effort to appear nonchalant, he quickly recognizes the weariness etched onto your features, and looks over at you with a genuinely sympathetic expression from what you could tell.

You look away, disappointed that he somehow read you like a book.

It's bizarre, having someone you had basically just met feel so relaxed with you. Usually, it takes you at least a few weeks to develop this level of friendliness with someone. Then again, not like you go through what you went through the night before with everybody. After all, you already knew that Leon was good. There was no need to be cautious around him. None that you knew of, at least. That, and he seemed way more outspoken than you, anyway. A bit too trusting and naive, too. Especially for a cop.

"What about you? You didn't sleep too well or something?" Leon asks with a hint of trepidation in his voice. While a part of you is still a bit annoyed at his keen perception of you, you suppose you can't really blame him either. Given that he's likely dealing with the same thing you do.

Though, despite all that happened, he and Claire were much more optimistic than you.

Either way, you give him a small, dismissive shrug and run your hand over your hair, your nose wrinkling at the unpleasant feel of it. It's dry and matted under your touch. Even with your best efforts to get yourself back into shape yesterday, your hair was still far from its ideal state. Not like you had access to your usual haircare products in here. You probably still look rather messy. You also find yourself wondering if you'll have to get a trim on it when you go back home. Maybe this whole ordeal was the universe's twisted way of telling you to get a change of style or something.

Leon gaze is still trained on you, his eyes peering straight into your soul. That's how it felt, at least. No matter how hard you try, the weary look in your eyes and slight sag in your shoulders are the dead giveaway that you are, indeed, still tired. But he doesn't address the issue. Much to your relief.

"Eh, I'm fine. I got some sleep," your response is somewhat aloof, and you know it. But your lack of sleep isn't your only worry here, after all. "I'm glad you got some rest, though."

"Yeah... I sure needed it," Leon sighs softly, tracing the white bandage on his shoulder with his fingers.

Your gaze, too, shifts to the blood-stained bandage over his shoulder as you look over at him. You're a bit curious whether he was tracing it more due to his overall unease or because he was reminiscing about the very person who had put it on him in the first place.

Leon notices your stare on his shoulder, and his fingers stop their movements, almost like he's a bit embarrassed of it. As he looks back up at you, his expression is a perfect blend of exhaustion and contemplation. A somewhat awkward moment of silence passes, both of you lost in your own thoughts.

"...How are you holding up?" you coax, your voice a bit quieter than usual, much to your own surprise.

Geez, you didn't mean to sound so worried.

"I'm... managing," he responds with a hint of fatigue in his own voice. He softly pokes at the makeshift bandage again, grimacing instantly as another dull pain throbs in his shoulder. "-It still hurts like hell though. But I guess I can't complain. Considering everything."

You let out a sigh and lean forward, resting your arms on your knees: "That's... not what I'm asking here."

In a way, you were curious why you were asking him this in the first place. Not like it's important. Or should be important. Your shared experience together did not change the fact that you and Leon were still pretty much strangers, regardless of everything. Or maybe you were being too cynical. Regardless, the absence of Claire and Sherry allowed for you two to converse with each other one on one for the first time in a rather long while. Something that you felt the need for. For a variety of reasons.

Your words cause Leon's brows to furrow slightly, be it confusion or something else. Though, it's obvious he understands what you're implying here, what you're truly asking from him. He pauses for another long moment, seemingly unsure of how to respond. You don't rush him. Letting the silence settle between you two once more, safe for the quiet hum of the air conditioner and an occasional car driving by somewhere in the distance.

Finally, he looks away from you and stares down at the cheap carpet on the floor. His expression is almost fragile as he speaks up, his eyes hinting at a hidden vulnerability he kept inside up until this point: "It's... I don't know. I just... all the people I- we couldn't save..."

You quickly recognize his potential indirect referral. Or perhaps you were already aware of it from the very beginning, simply waiting for him to get to it. After all, the urgency to escape prevented you from talking about it, the entire Nest crumbling in on itself in a blaze of fire and ashes.

No time for talking about your feelings when you are about to fucking explode, after all.

Leon trails off, his throat bobbing as he swallows.

So, you cut straight to it for him.

"...Are you thinking about her?" you murmur faintly but just loud enough for him to hear, looking directly at him. Providing a name wasn't necessary for you both to understand exactly who you were referring to here.

Ada.

As Leon glances back up at you abruptly, his blue eyes flash with surprise. It's easy to see the moment his heart drops, a pretty blatant mix of pain and guilt quickly washing over his face. Looks like you hit the jackpot after all.

He tries to speak, but then shuts his mouth once more. The look in his eyes is now one of confusion as he runs a hand through his hair frustratedly. You allow him to have his moment with no interference. 

"...Yeah. I am," he finally admits, his voice almost a whisper. It's a wonder you heard him at all. With all the gunshots and explosions, you wouldn't have been surprised to find your hearing suffering greatly. He sighs heavily, his fingers twiddling together on his lap. "I... know it's probably stupid. Hell, it is stupid. To feel guilty over someone I barely even knew. Someone who..."

You sigh and lower your gaze as well. Saying things were complicated would be the same as saying nothing at all. Their final confrontation on the bridge was inaudible to you due to your distance. So, you were unaware of what was said between them. Not all of it, at least. The rumbling sounds of the Umbrella facility slowly crumbling in on itself caused everything to be drowned out to you. You didn't dare ask him about it, either.

His voice catches in his throat and he hesitates, making it obvious that it's your cue to continue now.

The judgment you made on Ada was based on what you saw from afar. That's all you could really offer him here.

"I do think she cared. About you, at least. We don't know why she did what she did. But... she didn't shoot you back there. I don't think she wanted to," you say, pursing your lips in thought as you play over what your eyes have seen. You were not aware of what Ada's last words to him were before she slipped from his grasp. But what you did see unfolding in front of you was... conflicting, to say the least.

Your words have a pretty profound effect on Leon, causing his heart to tighten in his chest with a painful pull. He understands all the implications behind them and, admittedly, he had already came to the same conclusion within himself. He just had no desire at all to actually face it and accept it. The fact that Ada's refusal to harm him to get her way was clear evidence of her allegiance. But that evidence was cruel and left him with no closure at all. Nervously, he runs his hand through his hair again, releasing a bitter laugh that felt heavy on his lungs. He is unsure whether he should be angry, sympathetic, or simply mournful towards the enigmatic woman who was such a mystery in every way, up to the very end. Perhaps he experiences all three emotions at the same time.

But you both know that if it were you standing there instead of Leon...

Ada probably wouldn't have hesitated on pulling the trigger.

He looks to you again, maybe hoping for you to give him some information he knew you couldn't give.

But you don't meet his gaze, choosing instead to look downwards, seemingly just as conflicted about this all as he is. Of course, Leon realizes that his numerous questions would remain unanswered for an indefinite period. Probaby forever. He also had to accept that you couldn't give him any answers, or closure that could potentially come with them. Ada has died, and there was no way to change that cold, hard fact. Just like there was no way to take back all the lives of countless others who were lost in those streets. Racoon City had transformed from a community of pride and hopeful future into a place of death and bloodshed, with only you, Claire, and Sherry, managing to escape it alive. That was your current understanding, at least.

It would be nice to meet other survivors. But, for now, all he could do was sigh and accept your answer, however unfair it was on his heart. 

"Yeah, maybe... Maybe you're right," he mutters before falling into silence once more. His mind is racing with so many thoughts, all in conflict with one another. He is torn between his heart's desire to believe that Ada cared and the warnings of his mind to be cautious. He is uncertain about any of his emotions or thoughts at this point. He lets out another tired huff of frustration. "I just- I just wish I knew why. Why she did what she did, how much of it was real, or..."

...Or whether she cared about him at all.

"Well... at least you're safe. Let's leave it at that," your voice cuts through the dark whirlpool of thoughts in his head, turning his attention back on you. You seem to be focusing on his injured shoulder again. Perhaps in an attempt to divert the conversation, you switch the subject: "-We should really clean that up for you. It's all dirty and bloodied. Can't be good."

Leon winces as he instinctively tries to move his injured shoulder, further proving your point. He complies with a single nod, fully aware of the dire need for cleaning and proper care for the wound hidden under the worn-out bandages. Or... whatever care you could provide. At this point, anything is better than this dirty, blood-soaked thing.

"Uh, yeah. It's been a while, and it's starting to kind of..."

He stops, his face contorting in pain while he tries to move it again. His shoulder is becoming increasingly tender, and the bandage is completely stained with dark crimson blood. How much of it is his, and how much of it is of the other mutated things that used to be humans or animals he had to fight off, is unclear. Taking a deep breath, he prepares himself mentally for the miserable ordeal ahead. 

This experience will not be pleasant.

That pitiful look you give him doesn't help his pride, either. Or what's left of it, anyways. 

Regardless, not wanting to stall this any longer than he has to, he gingerly shifts his wounded shoulder and starts to delicately remove his police uniform with caution, taking his time. He took off his body armor the day before, leaving it stacked neatly somewhere in the far corner. Out of sight, out of mind, so to speak. Still, what was left of the dirtied police uniform on him was just as much of a reminder of the night before. He flinches involuntarily due to the fabric brushing against the bloody bandage, the pain instantly radiating from his shoulder straight to his insides.

You realize that you cannot just sit back and watch him struggle on his own, pride be damned.

"...Here. Let me help," you murmur softly as you approach him and sit next to him on the motel bed. You begin to delicately unbutton and peel off his soiled uniform from his upper body, aiming to avoid putting any unneeded discomfort on his already tender shoulder.

Leon nods quietly in response to your assistance. You're grateful he didn't make a big deal out of it. Outwardly, at least. He raises his good arm and makes an effort to shift his position, allowing you to help him in taking off what was left. "Thanks..."

You try not to think too much about the fact that you are basically undressing a cute guy you just met the day before.

With your help, you eventually succeed in removing the top portion of his uniform, leaving him in his pants and a bandage to cover his bruised skin. As he sits there, you can tell that his upper body being fully uncovered to your gaze - except for the stained bandage on his shoulder that is - is making him feel rather awkward and tense. You can't really blame him for that.

You sure would be feeling embarrassed in his place.

"...I probably look a total mess right now," Leon shoots you a somewhat nervous smile. Despite him clearly trying to make a joke, you can still hear the painfully obvious apprehension in his voice.

"Yeah, you do," you agree rather bluntly as you glance over him without crossing any inappropriate boundaries. Leon had a more fit body than you expected, which... made sense in hindsight due to his recent graduation from the Police Academy, as he told you. It was probably necessary for him to be in good shape. Although muscular, he wasn't excessively so. His body was... normal. In a good way. Decently toned, with some softness around his sides and belly. Frankly, if it wasn't for the situation at hand, you would have complimented him, but you suppress that urge as soon as it arises.

You don't need to make things even more weird between you two.

As your eyes travel up and down his body, you lock eyes with each other for a brief, awkward moment. You quickly break eye contact with the each other, almost simultaneously.

Welp, so much for not being awkward.

"Uh... Do you remember what Ada did for you exactly...?" you say instead, touching his uninjured shoulder lightly. When Leon was shot, you were not together. You missed witnessing the event directly, only reuniting with him afterwards when he already had a fresh bandage wrapped snuggly around his shoulder.

"No... I passed out after I got shot," there is a brief pause between you, and his face reflects a mixture of pain and another indescribable emotion that you can't really pinpoint clearly. Whether it's physical discomfort speaking or something else entirely, you don't know. "I woke up with it already on and her gone."

You watch him turn his attention back to his injured shoulder, where the white bandage is stained with dried blood. He gently rubs the fabric with his fingers, sensing the pain and discomfort that emanates from the fresh wound beneath. Despite everything, it's very much evident that he can't help but feel at least a small tingle of gratitude towards Ada, even though it hurts him to think about her at the moment.

"Well, since you didn't bleed out, and your arm is still somewhat usable, I'd say she did a good job," you let out a sigh and lean back slightly. Although you had previously taken a rather beneficial first aid course, you never anticipated having to actually apply those skills to treat a severe bullet wound, of all things. "...Her being a mercenary explains her way around such stuff, I guess."

Leon's eyes are still fixed on his injured shoulder as he nods. Guess he wasn't feeling very talkative for now. Not that you could blame him for that.

He runs his hand through his messy hair as you go to grab the medkit you thoughtfully prepared for the occasion, the faint sound of his fingers scratching against his scalp echoes in the room. You can only guess that his hair is probably just as dry and dirty as yours is, considering the circumstances you've just recently escaped from. On some level, it makes you feel less awkward about your own disheveled appearance in turn. It's good to know that you are all in the same boat here. Looking like a mess, and feeling like one, too.

"It sure does," he exhales somewhat bitterly, his voice filled with underlying anguish, as if he feels deeply betrayed. And he probably does. His face covered in a plethora of conflicting emotions. You feel a twinge of sympathy tugging at your heartstrings again. "I wish she could have just... been honest with me. From the start."

It appears that he is struggling to reconcile with the disparity between the person he believed he knew and the person Ada truly was.

You decide to not mention that he knew her for less than 24 hours. After all, it's evident that he's going through a difficult time as it is, and your practicality may not be of much help to him. Emotions are notoriously illogical.

It's difficult to think of a way to comfort him in the current situation.

"Well, at least you still have me, right? We made it out. And Claire, too. And Sherry." So, instead, you choose to gently rub his uninjured shoulder as a wordless show of support. "C'mon. Let's get that dirty bandage off of you. We don't want you catching an infection or something."

When you touch his shoulder again, he returns his gaze back to you, some life returning to the gentle blues of his eyes, much to your relief. Looks like your touch did the trick, as his body gradually loosens up under your palm. He gives you a small but genuine smile. "Alright, alright. Let's get this done, then. This is going to suck though..."

"Hey, it can't be as bad as actually getting shot, though, right?" you attempt to make a small joke to lighten the mood, but you instantly feel a deep sense of discomfort inside as soon as you actually speak it aloud.

Well, that sure sounded macabre.

"Uh... Sorry. That was... pretty bad."

Leon snorts out a short laugh regardless, running a hand over his face. At least you made him laugh. Though you can't help but wonder whether he laughed at your joke, or you. Probable the latter. Regardless, he takes a deep breath, preparing himself for the very probable agony of having his shoulder directly meddled with.

You both understand that it'll likely be pretty painful for him to endure, but you also understand that it is very much essential to get done. Especially since you haven't visited a hospital yet.

So, after you share a nod of mutual agreement with him, you begin to carefully remove the dirty bandage from his shoulder, taking your time to avoid causing him any unnecessary discomfort.

Besides your unfunny joke, that is.

"...Your jokes are terrible." Leon mutters under his breath, probably to distract himself a little. He winces slightly, the fabric that's already hardened now rubbing directly against the wound from your movements, which is more than uncomfortable to sit through, but not as painful as he expected. Or maybe he has just become more numb to the pain of it. "Don't be too gentle, by the way. Better to just get it over with as quickly as possible."

"I'm not about to hurry through this and potentially make it worse, sorry," you deadpan, leaving no room for doubt. 

Well, so much for his hopes of getting this done quickly. Though he knows you're right there. He just really doesn't want to sit through this.

As you continue to unravel the bandage, he clenches his teeth tightly. The pain is bearable, but it's far from enjoyable. With you steadily approach the actual wound, his entire body tightens involuntarily, muscles going taut with contained tension. The actual memory of being shot is still fresh in his mind, unfortunately. Though, he tries to divert his attention away from the pain by focusing on your presence and touch instead, however dubious such a notion may be.

He can hear you release a small sigh, whether it was out of annoyance or pity for him, he couldn't really tell. Your lips tighten as you carefully and patiently unravel each layer of cloth one by one to reach the aforementioned wound. He quickly looks down at his lap, scolding himself inwardly.

Why was he staring at your lips, of all things, anyways? He has no concise answer for that. And he is not sure what to expect once you two can finally look at the bullet wound itself, either. It's like everything was uncertain, and that was frustrating, to say the least.

"F-Fuck... That hurts-"

He clenches his teeth tightly, determined not to make any unneeded noise. He doesn't want to appear weak in your presence for some reason. Perhaps it's his pride speaking. He didn't really know.

"Sorry... I'm going as gently as I can," your voice is softer than he's used to, and he's not sure how to take that. You take your sweet time to remove the remaining layers of his bandage, being cautious not to abruptly tear it off, opting instead for a slower and more careful approach. Considerate as ever.

Leon releases a trembling breath while you carefully remove the final layer of fabric. He has to fight a growing urge to recoil as the last remaining layers of bandage are delicately removed. But it does at least feel relieving to finally take a full breath with no restriction that the tightness of the fabric secured around his chest provided. Even if such freedom was probably brief.

You both can now see his entire shoulder, which completely reveals the wound for you both to behold. He is very much aware of his heart pounding in his chest, his nerves on high alert. Once the wound is finally exposed, you examine it, quickly glancing over the hastily but securely stitched front and back where the bullet entered and exited his body. It was certainly not a clean, medical work, but it far surpassed anything either of you were capable of doing for him.

"Looks like she stitched you up, too... I wonder if that means she removed the bullet," you note, your brows furrowed together, creating a rather adorable-looking wrinkle between them.

...Goddammit, he's thinking utter nonsense.

"Ugh... I don't want to look at it," he mutters with clenched teeth, his breath slightly uneven. Nonetheless, he tries to divert his attention to something else, anything else, to distract himself from the nervousness twisting at his insides. The pain is intense and prickling, a sensation that spreads from the wound itself. The tender area around the injury causes Leon to wince involuntarily as you delicately touch it. He looks down at the wound, the stitched-up flesh making him a bit queasy. But he pushes past it. "I... can't tell you anything on what she did, sorry. Like I said, I passed out."

He looks away from it, not wanting to see it for much longer. Damn it, this will likely leave a mark. So much for the first day on the job. The idea of having to bear a permanent reminder of that horrible night makes him want to wail and claw at the walls.

But instead, he just lets out a shaky breath, his hands gripping at the sheets with iron-tight grip. In some sick irony, he now finds himself wishing for the dull, physical ache to return, to take center-stage again, instead of these feelings of disgust and dread that were so much more difficult to deal with.

Once again, your voice pulls him out of his silent turmoil. This seems to be a common occurrence now. But one he's grateful for, nonetheless.

"Well... Either way, you'll still need to go to a hospital for this. Preferably as soon as possible," you state, pretty much admitting that you would rather have opted to go directly to the hospital after your escape instead of staying in a nearby motel. He knew that you didn't approve of his stubborn refusal to go to the hospital. And here you were now. DIY care will have to do. You hum, your fingertips carefully tracing around the stitches. He shivers. Whether that was from the pain or something else entirely, he didn't really know. "-At least it's stitched up, so that's good. I'll just clean it, disinfect it, and wrap it back up for you. Hopefully it'll be okay."

"Yeah, I know I need to get this checked out. But for now..." As you start tending to his injury with a wet wipe, he flinches a bit, feeling a sharp pain from the cold dampness touching his skin. He hisses through his teeth, squeezing his eyes shut as he continues, his voice strained from the pain: "-I just want us to get out of here first. As far away from Racoon City as possible. Especially Sherry."

"Sorry... Bear with it for a while, will you?" you say as you move closer to him on the bed, glancing at him with that cute sympathetic look of yours. You start from his back and then move to his front. He shuts his eyes again while you continue with the wound cleaning, concentrating on taking deep, regular breaths to soothe his nerves. His body tenses up involuntarily, as the pain from the wound and the recollection of how it happened remain vivid in his thoughts.

"It's alright... I'll handle it." A sensitive area on his shoulder causes him to squirm slightly when touched. His entire body tightens instinctively, and his muscles contract involuntarily. "S-Sorry, just... Be careful, okay?"

You nod as you continue to cleanse his skin of dried up blood, while he tries to find solace in your quiet comfort. It presents a challenge, as the pain from his injury and the physical proximity between you two hinder his ability to focus on anything else.

"Don't apologize. I'm not the one with a damn bullet wound in my shoulder," you respond to his apology with a soft huff and a small shake of your head, your attention fully focused on your work. Your primary objective was to avoid making any sharp movements and to prevent your eyes from wandering south.

Which was... a bit harder than you would have liked to admit. You notice a few birthmarks scattered around his skin here and there. It's cute. A part of you wants to trace over them with your finger.

But, of course, you have a job to do.

Leon takes a deep breath, his chest slowly rising and falling as you work on him carefully. His teeth are clenched far too tightly for his comfort, and you are kind of worried that he might chip a tooth if he keeps this up. But considering that you have no idea what he's going through here, you decide to keep your mouth shut on that.

After successfully cleaning the area around his rough stitches, you pull away and search through the first aid kit you had in the motel room. A small, thoughtful hum fills your lips.

You hear Leon laugh weakly:"...Anything worthwhile in there, doc?"

"Well, there's some antibiotic cream in here... Better than nothing. I guess?"

He watches as you pull out the small tube of some basic antibacterial cream. You're pretty sure you have seen it somewhere before. Then again, no point expecting some high-end medicine from a med-kit you found stashed in the bedside drawer. Regardless, you make sure to read through its contents, just to be sure. Satisfied, you nod to yourself and return to sit behind him, beginning to apply the cream to his stitches with your fingertips. He instantly grimaces, be it from the pain or the cold. His muscle tighten again  for a moment, a small gasp leaving his lips.

"Stay still," you instruct to him softly as you spread the cream over his stitches thoroughly, your forehead wrinkling with focus. You try your best to be gentle while also ensuring that an adequate amount is applied to the injury.

"Ugh... shit, that's cold," he grits out, his voice strained.

For a small while, the room is silent, aside from Leon's shaky breaths and an occasional grunt of pain as he struggles to stay still for you. After you thoroughly treated both sides, you withdraw with a sigh: "Well... That's as good as we can do for now. We just need to wrap it back up with something."

Leon exhales a trembling breath of relief. Poor guy definitely had the worst night of his life.

"Heh... I guess I owe you one for this." He directs his gaze towards his shoulder, his eyes shifting between his bloodstained shirt lying crumbled on the floor and the now clean and treated stitches. Compared to their previous state, they definitely looked a bit better, but it was still, admittedly, pretty gross to look at. You can only guess that it will be a lengthy recovery for him. He hums. "You did a great job, by the way. I'm not sure I could have handled doing all that by myself,"

He meets your eyes with a gentle, grateful smile.

"-Just make sure to get it treated at the hospital. I don't need anything else from you." You dismiss him with a small smile of your own. Leon gives you a small nod at that.

However brief, the implication of the future makes you feel a bit... uneasy. Considering the past night's events, the idea of parting and going your separate ways seemed to be somewhat conflicting to you. Nonetheless, you have already accepted that it was inevitable. Leon, on the other hand, seemed to be firmly committed to destroying Umrella completely for what it did to Racoon City, just like Claire was. You felt somewhat out of place between these two determined individuals. After all, you were just an ordinary person who somehow miraculously escaped relatively unharmed. You weren't a courageous hero, nor were you skillfull enough to take down an entire corporation in some blaze of glory.

...Except for the scar or two for you to brag about now. Though you honestly doubt your survival is something to be proud of. You sure don't feel proud or accomplished at all.

Regardless, you ignore all these thoughts and concentrate on retrieving fresh bandages, contemplating them with a pensive expression. It's a bit of a hassle to unwrap the delicate gauze without tearing it. "...I sure hope this will be enough to wrap your shoulder back up. Though I guess I can just run out and buy some more."

"I think that should be enough. And don't worry about running out to get more. I don't want you going out there alone," Leon's voice is more serious than you expect, prompting you to raise a brow at him. He meets your questioning gaze, his face showing a somewhat worried expression. "We're stronger together. Safer together. And after everything we've been through, I don't want to risk us losing sight of each other."

"What do you would even happen, though? We're out now, right? I get that you and Claire want to deal with Umbrella and all, but..." you let out a sigh and move closer to him from behind, beginning to gently wrap the bandage around his shoulder and torso to provide support. Despite the awkwardness and clumsiness of your work, you do your best for him. "-I'm just a normal, boring person with a normal, boring life, y'know. Not much I can do. I'm guessing I'll just... go back home to my State or something. Since Racoon City is obviously... uh... not an option of residence anymore."

Leon nods again as he listens to you. He takes a brief pause, staring down at the fresh bandages layering themselves over his body before returning to look back at you over his shoulder. You lock eyes with him.

"But still... I'd feel better if you stuck with me. Or Claire. At least until you and Sherry are somewhere safe," he shrugs slightly, wincing as the motion immediately strains at his wounded shoulder. "I'm not saying you have to help us take down Umbrella if you don't want to. That's our fight. But... I would feel better knowing that you're safe and protected. And if that means sticking with me until you are, then..."

"-Go easy on that shoulder, will you?" you release a small sigh of frustration when you see him casually shrug and grimace instantly. You place a hand on his uninjured shoulder to acclimate him a bit before continuing bandaging him up.

"Sorry, sorry. Staying still now." A sheepish chuckle leaves him as he gives you an almost guilty look. A trembling breath escapes him as you work at his shoulder. Although it's obvious that he's still uncomfortable, it looks like his pain has eased a little, much to your relief.

You take a deep breath, your expression shifting slightly. Truth be told, you were a bit jealous of Leon's unyielding faith into things somehow working out in the end. It was naive, but... refreshing, too. He continues, his gaze now locked onto you over his shoulder: "And you're not boring, you know. Sure, you may not have any special skills or training, but you're smart. Brave. Resilient. You've survived this far, haven't you?"

You take a brief moment to reflect on his words, with only the faint noise of the gauze being unwrapped and distant sounds from outside permeating the motel room. "-Won't I just be a burden to you guys, though? You're a cop. And Claire is apparently one impressive badass with a gun. I'm not... Ada, either. I'm just... well, me. Not much I can offer to help you in the long run."

You take a brief break to lock eyes with him again. Leon smiles at you faintly, his face now looking more relaxed, no longer wrinkled with the expression of pain: "Well... You've got heart. That counts for something in my book."

"Uh... not to be a downer, but I don't think my 'heart' will keep me safe out there. I never even shot a gun properly before. Until last night that is," you whisper playfully, rolling your eyes at him. Somehow, his words always manage to bring a smile to your face, even if it's a small one. Though he is pretty damn corny. "I guess I could kill zombies with kindness. Do you think my heart is any good for that?"

Leon laughs at that, his eyes twinkling with amusement. It looks like your bluntness didn't bother him much. When you're eventually finished with bandaging him up, you're able to see how well the pure white fabric of the fresh gauze contrasts with the previous dirty and bloody one now lying discarded on the floor. Leon takes a moment to look back down at his freshly bandaged shoulder, too, appreciating your work. At least you hope he did.

"I mean... I could teach you how to shoot properly and all. If you want." He looks back up at you with a genuinely sincere expression on his face. He takes a short pause and a small smile appears on his lips before he adds: "...And I get the feeling you'd be a natural shot from what I've seen from you already."

You only scoff at that, your attention focused on inspecting his body, examining the various cuts and bruises that still marred his skin.

Leon lets out another gentle chuckle at your dismissive response or lack there of, his face showing a combination of amusement and gratitude. Admittedly, you're a bit more huffy with him now that you're out of danger. You can't really help it. But that doesn't mean you don't feel any worry twist in your gut as you look over his bruised body.

"-How about I patch some of these up as well? Since I have all the supplies out and all."

"You sure? I can walk it off just fine," Leon says in a rather playful tone. Though, to make it easier for you to observe his body, he still carefully adjusts his position to face you fully. "Sure, a few cuts and scrapes here and there, and I'm guessing I'm gonna be bruised up pretty bad, but... Nothing to make a fuss about."

You only grace him with yet another deadpan look that makes it clear that you already made the decision for him. So, without saying another word, you grab another wet wipe and begin cleaning out his numerous smaller cuts and gashes scattered here and there, starting with his lower back, as you move behind him once more.

Leon emits a soft hiss, the familiar coldness causing him to shudder against you. He's rather pliable for you, for some reason. You kind of expected him to protest or at least grumble a bit at your incessant coddling. But it seems like he was fine with just letting you play nurse for him. 

"Stay still, will you," you quietly chide him, placing a hand on his back to stop his squirming.

"Sorry, it just stings like hell..." he mumbles as he attempts to remain still for you, his muscles tightened. His body grows increasingly rigid as you continue to tend to his wounds, a trembling exhale leaving his lips. He clenches his teeth again, but he sometimes cannot resist emitting a hiss or gasp here and there. "God, I don't remember the last time I got beat up this bad... I feel like I got hit by a damn train."

You now move to position yourself in front of him to take care of his stomach area. And once again, you find yourself trying to keep your mind from focusing too much on the physical proximity between you two. Especially as you shift to kneel on the floor between his legs, finding no other better option to be level with his lower abdomen in a way that would be comfortable for you.

All you are doing is taking care of his wounds and nothing else.

Leon and you are both acutely aware of how close you are to him now, his breath catching in his throat when you kneel in front of him. But he doesn't say anything about it, and neither do you. After all, saying anything about it would potentially force you to confront some feelings you weren't comfortable confronting quite yet. As you clean up some minor cuts of his, you feel a slight increase in your heart rate despite all your best efforts to keep a level head. However, you try your damnest to put these unwanted feelings aside by reminding yourself that you are simply doing your job.

...Only you certainly can't ignore the fact that you are now essentially kneeling between his legs. Despite this, you persevere in cleaning him up, your hands moving over his chest and abdomen with great care. With too much care, really. There was no reason for you to be so careful and soft with him. But you do so anyways.

Leon watches you intently as you're working on him in tense silence, his eyes fixed on your face, hands, the way your hair occasionally falls over your face from your position, partially obscuring your features from his view. Your gentle assistance causes him to feel a tiny shiver traveling down his spine every time you move your fingers and touch his skin directly. He swallows, clearing his throat.

"Fucking hell... I'm gonna be sore as hell for weeks," Leon lets out a somewhat shaky laugh, trying to adopt a light and casual tone despite the situation. Though, he is mostly just hoping to distract himself from... everything.

...He wonders how your touch would feel on him without the washcloth there to mask it.

You give him a slight shrug in response. "-Sore is better than dead."

Fair.

"Thanks for... taking care of all this. I don't know what I'd do without you right now."

"Probably have Claire do this for me."

Leon laughs nervously, realizing that his attempts at small-talk are not quite working out. He watches you grab the antibacterial cream and move back up to sit behind him on the bed. When you begin applying the cream to his back, he wries slightly but tries his best to remain still for you and conceal the full extent of his discomfort. Your hands on his skin, and the cream's coldness is making him shiver for the countless time today. "...Is the cream really necessary? It's just some cuts and bruises..."

"Yup."

He sighs, hanging his head low and accepting his fate. Once the initial foreign coldness of the cream subsidies, the sensation of your touch on his skin has a strangely relaxing effect on him, especially so when it doesn't involve the aching bullet wound on his shoulder. He leans into your touch mindlessly, despite the ache, feeling his muscles gradually unwind under your care.

He's not necessarily aware of the action. But once he does notice it, he doesn't try to move back, either. After all the stress and pain, it's too much of a relief. And he's far too weak to resist it.

With a small smile on his lips, he glances at you over his shoulder and says: "You know... I've gotta say, being taken care of by a beautiful stranger like you isn't all that bad."

You huff out a surprised laugh at that, giving him a rather adorable-looking eye roll. He feels his smile grow, feeling oddly proud of making you laugh. Even if it was probably at his expense.

"...Not sure how I'm supposed to respond to that, but thank you for the compliment. You're not so bad yourself. For a patient." Your dismissive response at his cheeky remark is something that Leon finds genuinely amusing. He knows he took you by surprise with that. Which was his intention all along.

And just like that, you return back to the floor, settling between his legs and starting to apply cream to the small cuts scattered on his stomach. Like it's no big deal whatsoever. Your calm and nonchalant attitude about this all is kind of driving him crazy. It makes him feel like he's insane for feeling all frazzled by this entire situation. But he keeps his thoughts to himself, not wanting to embarrass himself any further.

Your ghostly touches across his abdomen cause a slight increase in his heart rate, another shudder running down his spine despite his efforts to suppress it. He tries to hide his body's unwelcome reactions to your touch, biting down on his lip, but he can't help but tremble and gasp occasionally, writing it off on the pain in his head. Rather poorly. His body stubbornly refuses to calm down, not when he can feel the sensation of your fingers gliding across his skin so gently, and he just has to sit there deal with it.

...And hopefully avoid getting a very awkward boner, considering your position between his legs.

Trying to keep the mood light, he grins down at you his eyes glued to you as his voice takes on a more joking tone. Though it sounds more shaky and nervous than confident, much to his annoyance: "You don't have to respond. Just take the compliment."

"Gee, thank you. Very gracious of you," you laugh briefly, shaking your head at him. At times, you were too much. Leon wonders if that's how you normally act, when you're not in a life-or-death situation. He was not prepared for you to be so curt and snarky with him. In a way, it was endearing. Though, of course, he wasn't about to admit that outloud.

Regardless, he finds himself shooting his shot again. Almost on impulse.

"Y'know... You're making this whole 'being patched up' thing damn near enjoyable," his tone is playful, but a subtle hint of interest still manages to sneak into his voice, mixed in with his playful words. He was testing the waters. Trying to see just how receptive you were to his flattery that was a bit more flirty in nature.

"Well, at least you're not in pain. That's good enough for me." Your response is almost unfairly simple, prompting him pout a bit as he watches you finish up on the task of tending to his numerous minor cuts and bruises that he acquired the night before. At the very least, this was much easier for him to handle, both physically and mentally, compared to the gruesome bullet wound you just treated. His torso still had a few noticeable bruises and smaller cuts from the previous day, but he definitely looked much better without all the dried up blood and dirt stuck to his skin and making it seem worse than it really was.

With a soft sigh, you pull back from him and look over him, pausing to look at his bruised hands in particular: "-Those probably hurt, no?"

He concentrates on his hands for a good minute, staring down at them and flexing his fingers to gauge their feel. With a slight grimace, he experiences a tiny burst of pain as he moves them, an exasperated huff leaving his lips.

At this point, is there any part of his body that doesn't hurt like a bitch?

"...A bit. Can't say I'm really surprised, though. It's a wonder I have any usable hands left at all, honestly."

His expression softens slightly when he meets your gaze, noticing the crystal-clear worry in your eyes. He finds it charming how much you truly care and desire to help him. You may be a bit more sharp with him, but your genuine concern for him never went away. He's definitely not used to being doted on so much. Though he feels a bit guilty for enjoying it as much as he does.

You shake your head again, giving him a pointed look at his little quip: "Don't get all dramatic now."

He smiles at that.

"No, but really. Thanks for tending to me. I was serious when I said that I wouldn't know what I'd do without you right now," he repeats his previous statement again, mostly because he doesn't really know what else to say. Or, rather, what he wants to say is a bit out of line.

"Nah. I'm not doing anything groundbreaking here. It just helps to keep my hands busy. I'll probably patch up Claire and Sherry once they come back, too." You wave off his gratitude, as always. 

Leon has to refrain from voicing his observations, which directly contradict your words. Which are that you visibly cared more and felt more concerned for him in particular. He didn't want to create an awkward situation between you two. Instead, he watches quietly as you hum and delicately take hold of his hands, bringing them closer to your face to assess the damage. Of course, it wasn't a major problem. In all honesty, you could have concluded this all once you took care of his bullet wound, as it was the only truly crucial matter to deal with. Everything else that followed was rather unnecessary, all things considered.

He freely lets you hold onto his hands without any resistance. His heart flutters slightly as he feels the tenderness of your touch once more. Observing your face, he feels a mix of affection and amusement bubbling in his chest as you examine his hands so thoroughly. Your gaze lingering on his bruised knuckles is something he notices in particular. You're rather attentive with him.

Nonetheless, you pull back once you're satisfied, meeting his gaze. "-It'll probably be good to bandage up those knuckles. Make it less painful for you, at least."

"Yeah, that might not be a bad idea," he says in a light tone, trying to ignore the way his heartbeat steadily accelerates due to the warm sensation of your fingers against his skin with no barriers getting in the way. And ignoring the persistent thoughts of lacing his fingers with yours, just to see how that would feel like.

As you begin silently wrapping his knuckles with gauze, he watches as your hands move gently and precisely over him. Even if it was faint, he couldn't help but notice the contrast between the size of your hands and his own. He almost becomes distracted by the sensation of your touch, but your voice takes him out of it.

"-Nice to know that taking that first aid course back in college wasn't a total waste of time," you muse playfully while you delicately wrap the gauze around one of his hands, making sure not to apply too much pressure on it. The sensation was comforting. By taking care of Leon, you were not only helping him, but also alleviating your own worries following the events of the previous night. In a sense, you were doing this for yourself as much as for him.

"Well, you're really good at this. Maybe you should be a nurse. Look into that." Leon's voice is soft even if his words are teasing, a hint of appreciation or admiration seeping through. You couldn't really tell.

As you scrunch up at him in response to his compliment, Leon giggles. The sound of it feels oddly calm and soothing to you. You are acutely aware of his eyes on you as you swiftly wrap the gauze around his hand, but you do not mention it to him. Considering that you were acting rather excessive with your care for him, you couldn't really blame him for staring. Once you are done with one of his hands, he glances at his freshly bandaged knuckles with a faint smile gracing his lips.

"...Never thought I'd put my skills to use like this though," your say quietly.

"I never thought I'd end up getting shot on my first day on the job, either. Or attacked by a giant alligator. It's been a wild ride, to say the least."

"I guess we all got the rug pulled from under our feet last night, so to speak," you sigh, your brows furrowing a bit as your mind drifts back to the events of the night prior. But you don't dwell on it too much. Focusing instead of the feel of Leon's hand in yours.

As you gradually complete the bandaging on his other hand as well, he continues to watch you in silence, his gaze fixed on your face as you concentrate on your task. You feel a bit sheepish, knowing you are being watched this closely, a warm, ticklish sensation flickering to life in your chest. You sigh and shake it off.

"But hey, I'm grateful I got to meet you. Though that was... one hell of a first meeting," his tone is sincere and quiet, with a genuine intention behind his words you can't overlook even if you try. You are suddenly fully aware that you probably wouldn't have been able to figure out what to do without his presence by your side in duration of that hellish night. In fact, if it wasn't for him, you'd probably be dead. Be it by giving up on fighting and simply accepting your fate, or being far too panicked to get yourself together in a moment of importance.

You wouldn't have survived if you were on your own put there. At least that's what you thought.

"I'm... glad I met you, too. And I'm glad you're here with me, right now."

The ease with which these words just fly out of your mouth is... surprising. A rather long moment of silence follows, only the soft sound of the bandage being wrapped around his other hand and the distant noise of cars outside filling the cramped motel room.

You do not look up at him, but you can be pretty certain that Leon is probably just as taken aback by your unexpectedly moving response. Your heart skips as you swiftly realize the genuine sincerity of your own words that seemed to have a mind of their own. This wasn't like you. Being this open and vulnerable about your feelings. Especially so to someone you've just met. Maybe you were even more of a mess than you thought. But when you do get the courage to sneak a quick glance up at him, his expression is rather soft, much to your surprise. You cannot quite comprehend what is reflected in there, but it brings a warm, blooming feeling to your chest regardless.

"Uh... Thanks," he speaks up eventually, his voice sounding a little rougher than usual, but you are grateful enough that he managed to blurt out at least something to end this heavy beat of silence. The unexpected intensity of the moment has left you feeling a bit flustered and caught off guard, and you never liked not being in control of your emotions.

He continues to watch you as you finish bandaging his other hand, his gaze shifting between your face and his now fully bandaged knuckles. Throughout this quiet but charged process, you deal with a rather strange combination of feelings. Gratitude for his understanding of your odd behavior without focusing on it too much. A fluttery, nervous feeling in your stomach due to your physical proximity to him, making you painfully aware of every rise and fall of his chest with every breath he takes. A burning heat of embarrassment blooming in your cheeks from being so upfront with him all of the sudden.

It was a doozy, to say the least. Especially to your already worn out mind.

You exhale slowly, calming yourself. Leaning slightly back on your knees, you observe his bandaged hands. Despite finding a safe place to rest and sleep without immediate danger, you still feel a sense of unease and uncertainty somewhere in the back of your mind, gnawing at your every thought like an ugly, persistent parasite. And these new emotions you are now dealing with did not help with that feeling of apprehension whatsoever. You're growing increasingly unsure about what to do next or how to proceed after all is resolved. Both short-term as well as long-term. 

Will you just return to your regular daily routine after this? Go back to work like nothing happened? Try out that study program you were so interested in applying for? Visit that new Cafe that opened near your apartment back home?

All of that seems almost impossible now. The same things that used to make you feel hopeful and excited for the future now seemed completely hollow. You felt hollow. Like Racoon City has robbed you of your future, even if it let you escape alive.

But what other option is there for you?

To play hero and risk your life again?

You weren't sure you could handle that, either.

"Hey, I..." Leon starts to speak, breaking you out of your trance, but his voice fades away without ever finishing whatever he was planning on saying to you. He clearly wants to convey something, but he is either unsure of what to say, or is hesitant about speaking his mind at all. You can't really blame him. You find it rather infuriating yourself, trying to find the correct words to express the unique combination of emotions swirling within you chest.

You shake your head, expelling all these unwanted thoughts from your mind. At least for a brief moment.

"-For what it's worth, I really am glad you've survived. With me. And... I'm thankful. For all you did for me. Even though you didn't know me at all."

Your thumbs are absentmindedly brushing against his palm now while you keep your gaze lowered. You don't want to see his face right now. Perhaps, you're just scared to.

"...You may not have saved everybody. Or most people you wanted to save. But... I'm here thanks to you. So... thank you. For saving me," you finish quietly. Taking little time to consider your next action, you find yourself leaning down and gently kissing his bandaged knuckles, lingering there for a few moments before withdrawing. You don't address the issue directly or consider its significance.

You refuse to.

Leon is very much stunned speechless when you go and kiss his knuckles without any warning being given to him, his heart quickly flying up into his throat as he stares down at you, utterly dumbfounded. This was... definitely the last thing he expected you to do, especially after such a heartfelt sentiment that left him feeling rather choked up as it is. He feels a rush of warmth traveling up to his face, causing him to choke on his own words for a good minute. He struggles to find the right words as various emotions overwhelm him all at once. But they didn't feel heavy or painful, like the crushing guilt for those he couldn't protect, or the suffocating ache of betrayal that Ada's deception left him with. 

This was lighter, giving him a much-needed break from all the depressing thoughts and questions buzzing on the front of his mind. But, ironically this was also so much more nerve-wracking to navigate.

He didn't know which on which emotion to focus on, which one to express to you, and whether or not he should express anything at all.

Gratitude for your unconditional comfort. Guilt for making you comfort him in the first place. Confusion at your sudden show of gentle affection he didn't know how to respond to. An inexplicable fluttering sensation making his guts feel all queasy.

You not saying anything to address what just happened doesn't help much with the chaos happening inside his head.

"You..." although he starts speaking, he trails off once again, cursing at himself inside his own head.

You don't seem bothered at all by his lack of a reply. In fact, Leon is kind of uncertain if you even want him to reply in the first place. It doesn't seem like you expect much from him at all. And the situation between you is already too complicated as it is, without all the added weirdness taking place right now. Maybe you didn't want to talk about it at all.

Though, the notion of you simply kissing him like that, without expecting anything from him in return is... more moving than he was willing to admit.

So, despite his disbelief and the whirlwind of emotions wrecking havoc on his already frazzled mind, he just keeps looking at you like. Like a loyal puppy looking at its owner and trying to figure them out. Truth be told, he simply cannot bring himself to look away from you right now, not with the memory of your brief kiss to his knuckles now etched into his mind. Regardless of its simplicity and innocence, the kiss has a deeper meaning for him. Suddenly, he finds himself being struck by your simple beauty: how tired and fragile you truly seem to him in this moment. In a way, you look just like him. Exhausted and battered, but carrying on regardless. There was a certain authentic charm in your disheveled appearance. He finds himself yearning to reach out and hold your hand, to bring your own fingers up to his lips, like you did for him.

...But before he can do or say any of that, you sigh and lift yourself up from your kneeling position beneath him. You release his hands, your thumbs gently brushing along the sides of his palms one last time before you warmth slips away from him completely. Leon continues to watch as you move away from him, feeling an unexpected sense of disappointment coiling deep in his gut despite his efforts to ignore it. He tries his damnest to dismiss this unpleasant feeling, convincing himself to concentrate on whatever you choose to do next instead. Though he does kind of feel like some lovesick puppy, unable to look away from you even for a damn second.

You quickly sit back up onto the motel bed beside him, your eyes traveling up and down his form quietly. He knows you're probably just overlooking his injuries, but he suddenly feels nervous and almost self-conscious under your attention, nonetheless. Mostly because he wants to know what you think of him. Not as a patient, but as a man. He does appear visibly better, though, now that he's at least no longer wearing that dirty, bloody bandage around his shoulder, and his smaller cuts and bruises have been properly cleaned from the stray dirt and blood stuck on them. But he's definitely seen better days.

"-Claire and Sherry sure are taking their time," you say softly, breaking the silence.

"Y-Yeah, they are. They've been gone for a while now. I'm sure they're fine, though. Claire can handle herself," he agrees, his voice sounding strangely squeaky even to his own ears. He cringes inwardly, clearing his throat. His mind continues to race, with thoughts swirling like a tornado within his head. Feeling restless, he shifts uncomfortably on the bed, unable to find the right position.

He's fully aware that his behavior has become noticeably more quiet and reserved compared to before, and he can't help but feel slightly annoyed with himself for making things awkward between you. But he doesn't really know what else to do. Whether you want him to talk about that kiss or not. If he's making a bigger deal out of it than it really is.

If you would be willing to do that again...

He runs his fingers through his unkempt hair with a quiet huff, the subtle sensation of your lips brushing against his knuckles both a blessing and a curse. He's definitely the weird one here. Claire probably would have laughed her ass off at him right now, and he can't really blame her. His gaze is fixed on you, his eyes lingering on your face for far longer than necessary, trying to read between the lines, to figure out what you're thinking in that head of yours. He's itching to say something, anything, to break the weighty silence that has now enveloped the small, confined room... but the words continue to stubbornly elude him. Instead, he awkwardly clears his throat again, almost like something got stuck in there. But, really, he is simply suddenly overtaken by a strong desire for physical contact with you. One he isn't sure what to do with.

You shake your head and speak up again, for which he is definitely grateful, his mind instantly rushing to cling to your words. Anything to escape from the rising disarray his head is in.

"Well, hey, at least it gave us a chance to patch you up properly."

You glare at the old bandage, stained with blood from his shoulder's bullet wound, that you had taken off earlier and left crumpled on the floor. As Leon once again remembers the wound on his shoulder, he trembles slightly, following your gaze down at the blood-stained bandage lying on the floor. He finds that cute. How you almost scrunch your nose up at that dirty thing. Like it's a living thing that caused him so much problems.

Despite him being very much shirtless, he still feels a bit too hot for his liking.

"I guess it did, yeah," he says, his voice sounding rather strained. Restlessly, he shifts on the bed again, desperately searching for something else to talk about. However, his mind stubbornly keeps returning to the sensation of your lips on his skin, and an unfamiliar longing gradually rises within him, tugging at his heartstrings...

But longing for what exactly?

He suppresses his thoughts and bites his tongue, feeling a bit embarrassed by the intensity of his desire. He feels like a complete idiot. Getting all worked up over nothing. He glances at you once again, his eyes lingering on your face momentarily before dropping to your hands resting in your lap.

"Uh... thanks again, by the way. You know. For taking care of me and all," he blurts out, trying to resist the temptation to reach out and hold your hand, his own hands now clenching into fists on either side of him on the bed.

"No problem. We're a team, remember?" you say in a more cheerful manner, giving him a slight smile. One that he returns almost on a whim. Though, as you look at him a bit closer, you hum and reach back for the antibacterial cream. Before he knows it, he feels the pads of your fingers dabbing the cool cream on the side of his cheek. You applying the cream to his cheek leaves him feeling a slight sting, but the warmth of your touch on his skin helps to distract him from it. He didn't even realize he had a cut there. He's pretty sure it was relatively tiny. It wasn't really needed at all to take care of it, but you still did it anyway, and your smile grew a little wider as you pulled your hand away. "-There. Good as new. Y'know... ignoring the bullet wound, huge scary bruises and a good number of cuts."

Despite knowing he's far from 'good as new', Leon can't help but laugh at your playful comment. It helps him relax a little, some weight lifted off his shoulders.

"Yeah, yeah, keep making fun of me. You didn't like it so much when those dogs were trying to bite your face off, huh?" A small smirk forms on his face as he teases you back in a lighthearted manner that a good friend would. Though,  the subject is rather... morbid. But it helps to joke about those things. A little.

He wants to say more, to come up with something witty or charming, maybe even muster up some cheesy pick-up lime to try and see if he can get away with it. But as he glances at you again, his words become stuck in his throat all over again. It's impossible for him not to focus on your face, taking in every tiny detail and drinking them all in with a hunger that feels almost scarily insatiable. This particular moment between you two has an oddly charged quality to it, as if there's more than just friendly banter filling the stale air of the motel room. He feels an intense and unexplainable desire to be closer to you, to touch you, to...

He swallows hard, trying to push these invasive thoughts out of his head. He chastises himself internally for being absurd. After all, you're just a friend and teammate. Supposedly. Whatever you were to him, his behavior is strange, like an infatuated teenager with a pathetic crush he has no idea what to do with. For fuck's sake, he is a 21-year-old police officer.

...Technically speaking, that is.

But he lacks any sort of control over his heart rate or sweaty palms. He can't help but look down at your lips repeatedly, as if he's being persuaded to do so against his own will.

As you let out a weary sigh of your own, you seem to be utterly oblivious to the inner struggle he is currently experiencing unbeknownst to you. The room is quiet, but your troubled and contemplative gaze is fixed ahead of you instead of looking at him. Leon doesn't know if that makes him feel better or worse. A huge, pathetic part of him wants your eyes to be on him, to be your center of attention like he was moments prior. But another part of him is utterly mortified at the prospect, knowing he'll probably just fumble like an idiot if you were to meet his blatant stare right now.

He's stuck between a rock and a hard place.

The shutter cracks welcome the morning sunlight in, creating long, bright yellow stripes across your features. You look beautiful like this, but he can't help but want to know what's on your mind that has you looking so distant, like you're in a world completely separate from this one. And them, much like you did with the kiss to his knuckles, you don't say anything to warn him. He just watches as you lean down and rest your head on his good shoulder. You remain silent, immersed in your own thoughts. Almost like it's a completely normal thing to do between you two. Or maybe you just don't want to address it? He couldn't really figure it out. He couldn't figure you out. And he couldn't really figure himself out, either. 

Everything was a big, convoluted mess.

Another strong rush of emotions hits him straight across the face at the sudden closeness you grace him with. It's funny, really. Here he was, wanting to get all close and personal with you, and now that that's exactly what's happening, his brain is completely blank. He makes an effort to take a deep breath, but it comes out shaky and uneven. He is also suddenly acutely aware of his own lack of clothing on his upper half. He longs to express himself to you in some meaningful way, but still finds himself unable to say a single damn word. A chaotic mix of thoughts and cravings overwhelms his mind, taking over his every sense. Gradually, he does manage to bring himself to move. To extend his arm and gently drape it around your shoulders, drawing you in closer to him, watching how you'd react and if he should pull back and shower you with awkward apologies that were already forming on the tip of his tongue. He can sense the gentle, rhythmic pulsation of your heart against his bare skin, and that feeling is almost intoxicating in how soothing it is.

He kind of wishes he could lay his head down directly on your chest, just to listen to your heartbeat. That would certainly keep his head empty of any and all thoughts, big and small.

You make a soft noise that sounds like one of approval, moving slightly closer to him, your bodies now comfortably intertwined in a clumsy side-snuggle. A surge of protectiveness suddenly comes over Leon when you cuddle closer to him like that. Silently, he squeezes you a just a little bit tighter, letting a pleasant shiver run down his spine as your body touches his, filling out the dips and contours of his form with your own, almost like two puzzle pieces fitting together. The gesture holds an undeniable amount of intimacy, and he feels a strong desire to just keep holding you and never let go.

Now, Leon finds himself being silent to conserve the moment, rather than due to awkwardness. There is a delicate sense of wordless understanding and reliance that has formed between you, without it having to be solely platonic or romantic in nature. He's uncertain how to interpret it exactly, and whether you even want him to interpret it in some specific way. For now, he simply acknowledges that your warm presence near him sooths him in a way that he desperately needs, regardless of what that entails for you two. In a way, it gives him a feeling of calmness he was longing for this entire time. A brief reprieve from all the chaos and uncertainty of the past, present,  and future.

He leans forward, carefully placing his chin on top of your head, and then closes his eyes, focusing on nothing but the soft feeling of your body pressed against his. He can hear the soft and soothing sound of your breath and the steady rhythm of your heartbeat, which makes him feel strangely...

At peace.

He can feel you nuzzle into him ever so slightly, clearly being careful not to disturb his achy shoulder, which makes him smile fondly, finding the gesture endearing in a pure and uncomplicated manner. It is comforting to not be alone, in a fundamentally human sense. Maybe he needed a moment such as this one for a while now. He just didn't know that until he had it.

Leon inhales the scent of your hair as he takes a deep breath. It smells of motel's cheap shampoo, which is unsurprising. All four of them probably smell the same right now. But he doesn't really care. He is unable to resist the urge to bury his nose into your hair slightly, as if attempting to absorb your scent. Is that a bit weird on his part? Maybe. But he feels far too content to care about his dignity at this point.

Tgough, the moment breaks rather abruptly, as you move pull back from him, rubbing the back of your neck sheepishly. Leon feels a familiar sense of disappointment deep in his gut when you withdraw from him, but he tries his best to conceal it from you, not wanting to appear too needy in front of you. Even if he really was needy. Despite his heart still racing, he shakes it off and attempts to appear unaffected. Very poorly.

"...Sorry. You must be cold like that. The cream probably settled already, so..." you mutter out without looking at him directly, but he cuts you off, the words leaving the tip of his tongue before he can think them through.

"It's fine," his tone is gruff. "I'm not cold."

Despite being aware that there is nothing inherently intimate about this situation, he still feels oddly exposed in front of you. The thought of you observing his bare skin out in the open only increases his already fast-paced heartbeat. After all the events of the night before, it feels... strange to feel his blood pumping in his temples, and it not being a result of something horrifying or life-threatening. He attempts to divert his eyes from you, but they persistently return back to your face. He was being drawn to you like a moth to a flame. Though, your warmth was nothing like one coming from a flame. He wasn't scared of you burning him if he gets too close. No, rather, he was terrified of your gentle light to turn off, leaving him without its comforting warmth to grasp onto.

He can't help but focus on your lips in particular, already reminiscing about the moment you kissed his knuckles. His thoughts are now pretty much haunted by this one memory, replaying it incessantly like a broken record.

Don't give in, don't give in, don't give in...

He repeats it to himself in his own head, but he finds it increasingly harder and harder to follow his own advice. His hands are clenched tightly on his lap, causing his bruised knuckles ache in protest. But it's all he can do to resists the urge to reach out to you, and...

"-Sorry," you suddenly repeat, your attention fully focused on his tightly clenched hands. Damn it, you probably think he's uncomfortable or something. He can see that guilty look in your eyes, and he hates it. He doesn't want you to look at him like that. "I... didn't mean to make things weird. Don't worry about it. I don't-"

Leon shakes his head, but keeps looking straight at your face dutifully. His heart is beating so fast that it seems like it could burst straight out of his chest any moment now, eager to show you how excited you truly make him with the smallest of things. It's becoming almost too much for him to handle the desire to kiss you. And not just your knuckles.

"No... it's not that," he protests in a slightly hoarse voice. His words stop as he shifts his eyes down to your lips again and then back up to meet your hesitant gaze, searching for something he can't really put his finger on. He is able to see every aspect of your face crystal clear in the soft light of the morning sun: the way your eyelashes create faint shadows on your cheeks, the gentle curve of your lips, the subtle color flush on your skin. "You didn't make things weird. I just..."

Your lashes flutter, your body tensing ever so slightly as you finally take notice of his very apparent staring, causing Leon to hold his breath momentarily. A part of him expects to receive a scolding he probably deserves. But it never comes. Instead, an unexpected sense of tension settles between you, catching him completely off guard and leaving him uncertain about where this was going exactly. Or maybe he just doesn't want to acknowledge the truth. Even so, he allows it to persist and guide him without any resistance or attempts to distance himself from you. Not that he wants to resist this pull in the first place.

He can almost taste the saltiness of your skin on his lips. He can almost hear the soft sound of your breath. And he can almost sense the subtle scent that is uniquely yours. The emotional intimacy between you is almost too much for him handle. So, without much thought, he moves in and gently cups your cheek, lifting your face towards his, wanting - no, needing - to be closer to you.

"...Leon?"

The subtle sound of your voice uttering his name causes his heart to stop momentarily. He can see it in your eyes that you do understand the silent implication behind this sudden action of his. After all, clarification is not exactly necessary to catch on to what he trying to do here. The feel of your skin beneath his fingers sends a slight shiver through his body. Despite this, your eyes remain locked together, almost as if you were sharing a wordless conversation between each other.

Leon swallows. He gently strokes your lower lip with his thumb, relishing in the sensation of it beneath his fingertip. Even if it's chapped and dry from last night's events. His voice is just a soft whisper now as he voices the silent question that's on the forefront of his mind: "...Can I kiss you?"

There is a moment of hesitation between you, but you don't move to pull away or reject him. He can guess that you're mulling over your own thoughts and doubts in that pretty head of yours. Though he wishes he could know what you're thinking of right now. If you want this as much as he does. But he waits patiently for you to share your answer with him once you do find it. Whatever it may be.

And then, you give him a slow nod.

As you stare back at him, Leon feels a sudden tightness in his throat. He knows he's being a bit too emotional about all of this, but your little nod feels like an agreement, approval, and acceptance all at once. Without any further delay, he leans in and gently cups your other cheek now as well, holding your face in his palms, letting your breaths mix for just a smidge of a moment.

Is it a wise decision? Clearly not. You've just met. The fact that you were able to survive a dangerous and challenging situation together doesn't alter that fact. However... in a way, it still does. Leon feels secure with you. The unspoken trust built between you two is difficult to articulate in words. The kind of trust that can only form when you experience a challenging ordeal only you can understand the full extent of. Which is why he doesn't try to explain it. Not when you two can explore it through action, instead.

When he does finally lean towards you, you meet him halfway, much to his relief, your lips inevitably locking together lightly. He closes his eyes and drinks in the delicate sensation of warmth and comfort that comes from sharing this simple human contact with you. The sensation of your lips on his makes Leon's mind blissfully empty. He resists the urge to embrace you tightly and hold you close. Compared to the intense passion he feels burning within his chest, the kiss itself feels hesitant and almost innocent in nature. Nonetheless, it triggers a pleasant surge of heat in his veins. He can feel the warm of your hand on his skin as you place it atop of one of his own hands cradling your cheeks, causing his heart to beat even faster within his chest.

Your circumstances don't make it particularly romantic or mind-blowing. The kiss is a bit clumsy, as first kisses usually are, when you don't exactly know how to fall into step with the other person yet. Your lips are dry and cracked, just like his are, due to the previous night. There is even a faint taste of blood that can be felt in the kiss, as one of you definitely split their lip during the numerous falls you both endured. However, none of that is a major issue for him. If anything, it makes it more precious in his mind. How real and authentic it feels.

The kiss is a soft and lingering one that doesn't extend beyond that.

And when you eventually pull apart from one another, concluding the kiss, he rests his forehead against yours, keeping his eyes closed tightly, a shaky breath leaving his lips. Your hand remains on top of his, the touch bringing him a nice feel of wordless reassurance. That you're really there. That you did just kiss, and it wasn't just some weird trick of his frazzled mind.

You weren't going away. Nor were you asking anything of him with that kiss. It was just a kiss. No hidden meanings or agendas in mind. Somehow, that makes it all that much more meaningful for him.

There is a strange sense of vulnerability he has to get used to, both physically and emotionally. The intensity of his emotions causes his body to tremble slightly against you. He remains close to you like this for a couple of long minutes, unprepared for the enchanting moment to come to its inevitable end. He absorbs the subtle scent of your hair hitting his nose, the warm sensation of your skin on his, and the soothing sound of your breath. He longs for this moment to last, and finding his voice again after kissing becomes a rather difficult task.

You also exhale, calming down after that short but sweet moment of connection with him. You don't express much about what just happened between you. You don't think it's even necessary. You simply know that it was sincere and enjoyable. And it seems that Leon felt the same way, too. At least you hope he does. Whatever that meant for your relationship in the long run, you know you don't regret it. You keep your eyes shut for a few more moments, staying close to him.

"Y/N..." he whispers your name in a low voice that sounds almost shy. You can't help but find the sound of him like this rather adorable, your heart giving out a subtle flutter in your chest.

Leon opens his eyes slightly, the blues of his irises meeting yours intently as you follow suit. The soft kiss you just shared is still running through your heart, leaving you feeling just slightly giddy. As you often do after kissing someone you like for the first time. And that dopey look of his is just too damn cute to bear.

So, you blurt out the first thing you that comes to mind. 

"...You know, I actually hate cops."

Leon blinks. Once. Twice. Thrice.

...Alright, that was probably not the most romantic thing to say right after kissing him for the first time.

"Uh... Really?" he manages to ask, even though he's obviously still very much dazed from the kiss. Which is honestly kind of endearing, considering how it was just a short but sweet little kiss. You can't help but wonder how he'd look if you kissed him again, properly this time. How he would look at you if you were to lean in and kiss him senseless. But you don't do that. For now, at least. Either way, it's obvious that the emotional whiplash you just gave him with your silly comment only contributed to the stupefied look he's giving you. "But you just kissed one..."

Leon's lips form a small but genuine smile as he lets out a quiet little laugh, a clear hint of disbelief in his voice. You feel his thumbs caress the apples of your cheeks gently as he continues to hold your face in his hands, the sensation warm and comforting to your heart.

"Huh. You're right. I guess I'm being a bit hypocritical today," you chortle, a small giggle leaving your lips in return. You can see his smile growing in response to your laugh, and it's a sight a bit too adorable for you right now.

He has a pretty smile.

"I guess you are," he agrees, his eyes briefly glancing over your face, as if he was taking in your features. Or maybe he was just marveling at how beat up you look. "But I don't mind. I think... I sort of like you being hypocritical. Just a little."

With another soft laugh, you gently squeeze his hand on your cheek, tilting your head to the side slightly and resting your face against his palm, practically nuzzling into a bit. You press his hand closer to your cheek and close your eyes for a moment, a content sigh leaving your lips. Your peaceful expression of serenity mirrors Leon's, as he looks on at you with that same sense of quiet satisfaction and solace that was filling the quiet space between you.

Your chest tightens as you feel his thumbs stroke your skin again, the touch gentle and light. The soothing warmth and softness of his skin on yours causes your heart to skip a beat. You suddenly find yourself seriously struggling to resist the urge to kiss him again. It wasn't just a passing curious thought anymore, but a genuine desire you are itching to fulfill. But, for now, you just exhale and enjoy this fragile moment as it is. At this very minute, all the chaos and peril you two have dealt with vanish from your mind at long last. Replaced by this tranquil, modest motel room, reserved only for you and him. At the very least, for this brief moment.

Unfortunately, your little exchange is abruptly interrupted by the earth-shattering sound of a door suddenly bursting open, none other than Claire entering the compact room without any warning given to either of you. That, or maybe you two were just far too lost in each other to hear the approaching footsteps or chatter. A peppy grin is brightening up the redhead's features as she strides in with no care in the world, seemingly far too engrossed into some vigorous discussion with Sherry to fully notice you quite yet. If it wasn't for the situation at hand, you'd probably comment on how buddy-buddy they looked: swaggering in hand-in-hand, almost like two sisters would. 

The entire space is quickly overpowered with the strong aroma of freshly cooked greasy food, and you immediately feel your stomach twist and turn in clear demand for some much-needed sustenance. The bags of what looked like your standard roadside diner takeout sure looked promising right about now.

"Rise and shine, dynamic duo! Breakfast's here- Oh."

As Claire's bright eyes inevitably land on the two of you, she stops right in her tracks, just blinking at you for a second or two. Sherry, in turn, appears to be just as surprised, not that you expected anything else at this point. 

...And you feel a strong urge to sink straight into the ground.

As if he's been burned, Leon abruptly jerks away from you and releases his hold on your face. Your heart pounds all the way up in your throat, and you can already feel the heat of embarrassment rushing to your face. Glancing over at Leon, he doesn't seem to be handling it all that much better, his cheeks flushed and his lips parted in silent protest that just didn't form yet. Though, there is also a subtle hint of embarrassed annoyance flashing through his eyes as he meets Claire's look. A look that is no longer surprised, but instead, expecting. And a bit smug.

You're in for a questioning. 

As expected, she is quick to regain her cool, raising her brows at both of you and closing the door with her hips, an incredulous snort leaving her lips. You can already guess that she's not going to live this down for the two of you. Before you can open your mouth and stutter out some type of excuse that would hopefully sound decent, Leon beats you to it.

"Jesus Christ, Claire! Knock much?" he grumbles out in a raspy and slightly trembling voice. If it wasn't for the burning embarrassment raging inside your head, you would have thought that was cute. He isn't really fooling anyone.

"Excuse me," Claire muses in a slightly humorous manner. "Care to tell what's gotten you shirtless? Or... who?"

Now it's up to you to sputter as you stumble over your words to try and rectify the situation.

"I-I was just changing his bandages!"

Claire just laughs at that, with Sherry now joining in a fit of giggles. The sound is lighthearted in nature, though. Just harmless fun that just happens to be at your expense. Well, partially. Your only choice is to accept your defeat, hanging your head low with a flustered groan. Leon's embarrassment only increases as laughter rings out. He crosses his arms over his chest, a pout quickly taking form on his face.

"Ugh, you two really have a knack for bad timing. And... for the record, it's none of your business what we were doing," even though he tries to sound irritated, his flushed face and the slightest hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips diminish the desired effect, making his effort useless.

"-Whatever you say, loverboy," Claire deadpans, giving you both a knowing smirk as she waves Leon off. It's apparent that she doesn't believe any of your shared excuses. Not that you can blame her. You'd probably act the same if you switched places. She takes her sweet time placing the warm fast-food bags on the nearest counter and brushing her hands off on her jeans. "Anyway, you better get dressed before the grub gets cold and soggy."

In spite of all the embarrassment, you can't help but chuckle sheepishly and shake your head. Despite being flustered, it's almost... comforting to share such a normal, simple moment over some silly accident instead of a high-stakes situation. You'll take getting teased by Claire over running for your life any day.

You watch as Leon huffs and puffs at Claire fruitlessly. He mumbles something inaudible under his breath, unfolding his arms, and quickly walking across the room to pick up his discarded shirt from the ground. He hastily puts it back on, all while stealing a couple of glances back at you. You don't know if he's trying to subtle about it, but if he is, it's definitely not working. A small, almost bashful smile appears on his face as he does, similar to the one you give to your crush when you think they're not looking. It's cute. You can't help but return it with a smile of your own.

"Well I think you two look cute," Sherry joins in, her hands resting on her hips as her blue eyes dart between you two with eager curiosity. You can already tell that you're in for a game of 20 questions after this. Or something similar.

"Cute, huh...?" Sherry's charming comment seems to inspire Leon's bashful smile to grow in confidence while he looks down at her. He almost appears a bit cheeky, as raises an eyebrow and gives you a quick side-eyed look. "What do you think? Do we make a cute couple?"

"...Don't get cocky now," you huff out with a lighthearted roll of your eyes, prompting him and Claire to chuckle.

As you go to grab some much-needed food, you feel oddly light, both in mind and spirit. All the anxieties and uncertainties about your future seem to have eased away, letting you enjoy the peacefulness of now, instead of worrying about tomorrow.

Whatever happens next, you just know that everything will turn out fine.

As long as you stick together.

[thefuzzzz]

Jasico Bingo Challenge #13!!

Prompt: Hiding and Injury

Jason was pretty sure he was going to die.

Ok, maybe that was a bit dramatic. Still, the horrible gash on his side never quit seeping blood. Even in the middle of the night, when he had to practically crawl to the Camp Half-Blood bathrooms.

He prayed no one else was awake and pushed open the door.

Of course, Nico was awake. He was always awake. Jason was pretty sure he never slept.

"Hey Jason—woah. You ok?" Nico said, looking up from washing his hands to see Jason covered in blood. "You ok?" felt like a bit of an underreaction, but Jason appreciated the lack of freaking out.

"Yeah. I'm fine. Just an old wound that opened up." He explained, turning on the sink and tugging off his shirt.

"Gross. Show me," Nico said, like a kid whose friend just told him he found mold somewhere. Nico was starting to sound more and more his age these days.

Jason turned to let him see better. He winced at his movement, but Nico inspected it with gentle eyes.

"That looks infected," Nico said.

"Probably."

"Ew."

A lapse of silence overtook them. It was clear Nico wasn't going anywhere.

The son of Hades hoisted himself up onto the wooden countertop and watched intently. Jason usually basked in his never-ending gaze, but now he cowered in it.

"Do you know what you're doing?" Nico asked, examining his lack of knowledge in wound care.

"Sure."

"Really?"

"No."

Jason put his glasses on, retrieving them from their perch on the top of his head.

"You should go to the infirmary," Nico said.

"No," Jason said a little firmer than he meant to, but Nico didn't seem bothered.

Jason wet a rag and pressed it to the wound. The blood seemed to never stop flowing. Maybe he'd just live like this, rag pressed against his side, for the rest of his life.

"I can fix it," Nico offered.

Jason jumped. He had almost forgotten Nico was even there. "What do you mean?"

"I don't like going to the infirmary either. I got pretty good at fixing myself up when I was..." Nico cut off.

It was anybody's guess whether he was going to say "alone on the streets" or "in Tartarus" but either way, Jason didn't need him to finish. That sounded better than Jason's experience, which was none.

"Fine," Jason said, handing him the rag.

Nico snickered. "You'll need more than a rag, man. You definitely need stitches. Go to my cabin. I'll meet you there in a second."

With that, Nico walked into the shadows and teleported away. Jason hobbled to the Hades cabin, which was an unreasonable distance from the bathroom in his opinion.

Jason stood awkwardly in the middle of the room. He didn't want to get blood on anything. Also, he had never been in Nico's cabin.

Contrary to popular belief, it didn't look like a vampire lived there. It was decorated pretty normally, but most things were either black or maroon. Jason decided to stand on the red carpet, hoping that if his blood dripped it would blend in.

“Hey,” Nico said. Jason almost jumped out of his skin to see a slightly paler than when he left Nico with an arm full of medical supplies.

“Gods, man. You have got to stop shadow traveling everywhere.”

“If you could teleport, would you?”

“I mean…I guess.”

“Exactly. Now show me your gross gash.”

Jason pulled off his shirt again, letting Nico look at it. He could’ve sworn Nico’s face got a little redder when he took his shirt off, but he convinced himself it was the lighting.

Nico pulled over a bottle of rubbing alcohol and put it on a rag he’d grabbed. He poured the alcohol on and looked up at Jason semi-sympathetically. “I shouldn’t have to tell you this is going to burn like hell.”

Jason sighed and braced himself. “Just do it.”

Nico pressed the rag to his skin. Jason bit his tongue to avoid yelling at the top of his lungs.

Nico pulled the rag away, and the burning sensation slowly faded.

Then, Nico reached over to the desk beside him and retrieved a hair tie. He collected his shaggy black hair into the smallest ponytail known to man and picked up a stitch kit.

“This is gonna hurt bad. Sorry.” Nico said, picking up the needle.

“It’s fine. I’ve gotten stitches before.”

“Good. I’ve given stitches before. Seems we’re both experienced in our fields.”

Jason didn’t appreciate the dryness, but it did make him chuckle.

Pretty soon, Nico had readied the needle and hovered it above Jason’s skin.

Jason decided to distract himself by examining things around Nico’s room. It was an old tactic that he’d used a million times over. Jason was practically a pro at distracting himself.

Nico’s cabin was surprisingly tidy. He had one twin-sized bed, which Jason was currently sitting on. The bed looked comfortable. It had a lot of pillows and blankets, all either black or maroon.

He had a desk shoved against the wall by the end of the bed. Jason noticed a lot of books on it. He didn’t realize Nico liked to read.

There was also a pretty decked-out PC. Jason didn’t know much about computers, but he did know Nico liked video games. It wouldn’t surprise him if the Lotus Casino’s arcade had influenced Nico’s affinity for games.

On the other side of the room, opposite the bed, there was a dresser. Black clothes spilled out of it. On top of the dresser, there was a TV that he definitely wasn’t allowed to have. Jason wondered how Nico ever passed room inspection.

Once he had examined the cabin enough, Jason looked down at Nico.

Nico’s eyes held an intense kind of focus. His hands worked quickly but gently. Jason thought he was beautiful. The warm light of the lamps that littered his cabin glowed against his face.

Jason threw away the thought. He didn’t find Nico beautiful, he found his concentration beautiful.

Then, he considered how Nico had looked earlier. Sitting atop the bathroom counter, he was somehow just as radiant.

Jason had an internal war with his own mind for a moment before looking back down at Nico to distract himself from the sudden pangs of pain that came along with having a needle repeatedly shoved into your skin.

His face hadn’t changed from a few seconds ago, but somehow Jason thought he understood it more. It seemed more complex. It was so simple, just a face, but also it was Nico’s face.

Jason decided to move past that, and just as he was about to look away, Nico spoke. Somehow, even his voice didn’t sound like it used to.

“What’s your deal with the infirmary, by the way?” Nico asked, almost done with the stitches.

“I just don’t like to go…” Jason answered, trying to hide the blush he’d acquired.

“I’ll tell you why I don’t like to go if you tell me why you don’t?” Nico offered.

Jason would take any opportunity to learn more about Nico before his sudden realization, but now he definitely would. He nodded, “Fine,” and waited for Nico to tell him.

“I don’t like going because I didn’t have to for a long time. After I left camp as a kid, I had to learn how to take care of myself. Now that I know how to, I sometimes feel like going to the infirmary is some kind of weakness. I know it isn’t, but I just prefer to take care of myself,” Nico said, tying the stitches closed and moving away once and for all.

“Your turn,” he smiled. Jason watched as he packed away the needle and wiped the blood off his hands.

Jason sighed. “I’ve never actually been to a doctor's office before,” he muttered.

“Never?” Nico asked, picking up a cotton wrap.

“Never. I was raised mostly by Lupa. I only really integrated into society until I was a teenager. Then, I didn’t have a parent or anything to ever take me to a doctor. I never got hurt in a way I couldn’t deal with on my own.”

Nico nodded. “Huh. Crazy.” Jason liked that he didn’t make a big deal about it.

Jason’s face flushed with another realization. Jason liked Nico. A lot.

What didn’t help his newly realized crush was Nico having to wrap his arms around him to put on the bandage wrap.

Jason looked back on his history with Nico and realized two things. One: this crush had been going on forever and he was just too oblivious to realize he was in love with Nico. Two: he had to tell him how he felt right now or he wouldn’t ever do it.

So, he mustered up every ounce of courage in his body and looked over at Nico.

“Hey, Neeks. I don’t know why, but while I was sitting here I kinda realized just how…beautiful you are. I’m sorry, I know this is sudden and we haven’t known each other very long, but I like you. I totally get it if you’re not interested or if you need some time-”

Nico cut him off by pressing their lips together gently. Jason's eyes widened m, but he pressed them closed and leaned into the kiss.

“Finally,” Nico smiled, pulling away. “I was waiting for you to say something.”

“Wait, really?” Jason said.

“I thought you were subtly flirting with me for months.”

Jason mentally kicked himself for his skill to being oblivious of everything, including his own actions.

Nico laughed and pulled Jason into a gentle hug. Jason reached up to hug him back but felt a sharp pain in his side. Still, he held Nico close.

“I think I ripped a stitch,” Jason laughed into the hug.

“Godsdamn it.”

This is also on AO3:

My card:

[screampied]

‘ I JUST WANNA HEAR YOU (S)CREAMMM ! ’

ᡴꪫ sum. what’s your favorite scary movie? is it carrie? psycho? or maybe nightmare on elm street? perhaps picking up the phone was a bad idea, but you don’t scare easily! or do you?

wc. 6.0k

warnings. fem! reader, ghostface geto & ghostface nanami, college au, threesōmes, unprotected, brief phone sēx, roleplay, dirty talk, praise, overstim, implied multiple ōrgasms, spit, manhandling, brēeding, hair pulling, oral (f & m receiving), cowgirl dp.

an. from this ask!

“hello.”

“hello?”

“what’s your favorite scary movie?”

you deadpan, almost as if you’ve seen this movie before. it was around close to midnight. you were the only one sober at some random frat party you got dragged to. everyone besides you were probably wasted or shoving tongues into mouths. sitting up on a cushioned bed, you hold the landline up to your ear. “mean girls two. bye.”

“….girl what? that’s not a—”

you hang up, averting your eyes back towards the tv screen that displayed some cheesy soap opera. about precisely thirteen seconds pass before the landline screeches a loud deafening ring again.

sighing, you answer it. “stop calling this number. prank calls aren’t funny.”

“no.” the voice replies, and it’s very deep—you swear you’ve heard something like it before. a best way to describe it was that it had a gruff pitch to it, baritone running all underneath it. his voice was also a bit sly too. “i just wanna talk to you.”

“bother some other girl. bye.”

“don’t hang up on me.”

for whatever reason, you don’t hang up. his voice sounded a bit stern—you sit up before growing quiet. you’re fully alert now.

“good girl. now, i’ll ask again. what’s your favorite scary movie?”

pressing your back against the comforter, your thighs squeeze together. with another vexed sigh, you say the most random movie that comes immediately to mind. “halloween.”

“pft. basic.”

“wha— you’re the one who asked.”

“oh, doll i’m just joking. but anyway, you like slasher movies, yeah?”

for whatever reason, the more you talked to this total stranger, you start to feel a sudden uncanny stir delve around your stomach. you weren’t scared, yet at least, but it was oddly peculiar. his voice sounds a bit familiar the more you listen to it. with how teasing the caller on the other line appeared, it was strangely intriguing. you kind of didn’t wanna hang up anymore, besides this party you were at was quite … not the best.

“not really. i am a jamie lee curtis fan though, i only watched because i make fun of the deaths.” you mumble.

“hmmm,” the voice hums through the other end. it’s as if he’s pondering what his next choice of words will be to you. “so…you got a boyfriend?”

you were taken aback by how abrupt the change of subject was. the man on the other end laughs at your awkward silence before you finally speak.

“no, and it’s not like it’s any of your business.”

“easy, girl. i’m just curious. besides, what if i wanna ask ya out?”

you grow quiet again before rubbing your neck, you were growing a bit hot.

“whatever. no, i don’t have a … boyfriend.”

“ooh. you hesitated there.”

you grumble. “shut up. i’m hanging up.”

the man immediately replies with a chortle.

“wait, wait. heh, serious though. you never told me your name, doll face.”

with an eye roll, you utter, “why do you wanna know my name?”

“because i wanna know who i’m looking at.”

“what?”

“what?”

each word he spoke breaks through the phone due the deep mess of his voice. a few rough sparks from his dialogue punctures through the soundbox of the device. again, he did sound oddly familiar. you just couldn’t put your foot on it.

the man chuckles before responding in a more sly tone—changing the subject again.

“you know doll, you sound kind of out of breath. call me crazy, but before i called you, were you playing with yourself?”

your legs suddenly squeeze shut, you were wearing one of your borrowed hoodies and shorts underneath. any sane person would have hung up eons ago, but for whatever reason—you felt your heartbeat start to race. the more you listened to the deep voice on the other end, the more you started to grow more curious. what’s wrong with playing around for a little bit? besides, what’s the worst thing that could happen—you dying?

you scoff, thinking this was nothing more than a dumb prank call—you decided that playing along wouldn’t hurt. you had nothing else to do anyway.

“so what if i was playing with myself?”

“i bet you didn’t even make yourself finish, doll.”

his voice, the more it spoke in that rough pitched tone—you couldn’t help but press the landline up to your ear just a bit further. you furrow your curled up brows, lowering your guard a bit. probably foolish, maybe you’d regret this later, but alas, reality wasn’t on your mind at the moment.

“are you saying you can make me finish?” you mutter, growing amused now.

“oh i know i can. i can make you get off from just from my voice alone.”

he was toying with you, but it was too late to back down. you intake a honed breath before humming.

“okay, prove it then.”

he chuckles.

“mhm. take those panties off first. actually no, slide them to the side for me.”

you really felt like you were in a movie, shamelessly at this random guy’s beck and call. as the show played in the background, you press the middle part of your thumb against the volume button to turn it down four notches. the room was practically silent now, the only noises heard were from the blaring beat drops of edm music downstairs. sprawling your legs out, you creep a shaking hand between your thighs.

the voice grows quiet, you finally move your panties toward the side before slouching back against the pillow.

“you must be really bored. talking to a random girl at the m-midnight.” you exhale.

“heh, m-maybe,” he mocks your falter. “but i’m sure you’ll keep me entertained with that cute voice of yours.”

he was so smooth. smooth as if he was prepared for every word that flew out of your mouth. as your fingers glide against your now exposed entrance, you let off a shaky breath.

he was right, out of boredom you tried to play with yourself— yet, that didn’t work out because you could never make yourself finish. your attempt was basically useless. with a frowning pout, you reply. “now what?”

“finger yourself, silly. and i wanna hear, put the phone up against that pussy for me, doll.”

he was filthy.

you felt yourself start to throb before removing the landline from against your ear and placing it right against your doused entrance.

with heavy jagged breaths becoming more irregular, the person on the other line hears the wet sloshes of your cunt up against the phone. again, he grows quiet—it’s almost like you can make out his deep attractive breaths and it makes you pulse even more.

“bet you’re so nice ‘n soaked. sounds so sloppy.”

gnawing on the softness of your bottom lip, your thumb briefly skims past the nub of your clit and you whine. you were already a bit sensitive from before, starting to stroke your fingers against it. bringing the phone back up to your ear, you ease a single finger inside. it feels warm—you were slick, coating your own finger with a nice amount of your obscene arousal. it doesn’t take long for you to start to pant, slithering another finger inside of your cunt before moaning. it fits nicely, nice and snug.

“you sound so pretty. i want you to imagine those are my fingers, pretty girl. can ya do that?”

“y-yeah,” you start to stammer, feeling a sudden spongey texture inside of you—you gasp, not expecting to reach your sweetened g-spot so soon. it was a mere bumpy texture, gloopy gummy walls involuntarily accepting your two slender fingers with an open gesture. “fuck, ‘m still a bit sensitive.”

he guffaws lowly.

“yeah, i bet you are. poor baby can’t even make herself cum.”

you swallow, the playfulness in his voice making your thighs start to tremble a bit. with relaxed fingers stretching throughout your walls, you focus on your breathing. each pant that came out of your hot breaths seemed like it was gonna be your last. after a while, your toes start to curl up in pure pleasure—you moan, feeling a sudden rush of weightlessness nirvana overtake you.

“find your g-spot for me. tell me when you do.”

“i- i already found it,” you whine, a sheaf of nerves that store inside of your pussy pulsating at a rapid speed. your head throws itself back as you’re just moaning melodically. “fuck, why don’t you just come over ‘n finish for me already.”

the voice laughs again.

“yeah? you want me to come over instead? maybe i should use my tongue since your fingers are so useless, dollface.”

at this point, you didn’t really care. maybe making simple rational decisions today just wasn’t in your favor. the eerie voice, each second you spent listening to it the more aroused you became. maybe getting off to a pure stranger’s voice was embarrassing but you were feening. the air felt suddenly thick. so thick you could cut it with a knife. with your bottom lip being chewed on like gum, you briskly shiver. cold, wintry air wafts against your skin and you moan for the nth time. an unforeseen chill runs down your spine before you hold back yet another whine.

“f-fuck, just come ‘n finish for me. i can’t do it. please.”

he grows quiet for a solid good four seconds before replying in a cheeky tone.

“okay. turn around.”

your panting stops and instantly, you turn your head the other way—of course, no one was there. figures, the only things your eyes were met with was the wooden headboard. with a disappointed grimace, pulling your occupied fingers out of your cunt, you turn back around. as you’re about to speak into the phone again, you open your mouth before pausing.

there, you’re met face first with what appears to be some guy in an infamous ghostface costume. he was tall, staggering inches on him before you don’t see one but two. they both had the same getup, ghoulish ghost mask, a long black robe, and the same spectral, tilting head-stance.

one of them takes off a mask and it’s suguru geto, your roommate.

your eyes concisely widen. once he yanks off the mask, his silky well-kept black strands fly loose. no wonder the voice sounded a tad bit familiar. the other removes his mask and it was nanami, two of them—now you really felt like you were in a movie. “you always did say how much you liked scream,” and then you glance at nanami who had a sheepish expression. “don’t be shy now, someone’s gotta help ya finish.”

“o-oh,” you remember, sitting up against the bed. now you were embarrassed. just a few seconds ago, you were getting off to your roommate’s voice. suddenly, you felt even more hot. you did end up talking their ear off about your adoration for the beloved franchise, ranting about your cute little ghostface obsession.

truth be told though, you didn’t know they’d make it a sheer reality for you. the two of them get on the bed towards you before nanami brings a gloved hand to your chin. he strokes your chin softly, and geto moves underneath.

“sorry princess,” he whispers. “suguru wanted to scare you but i told him we should just show ourselves,” and as he’s speaking, you get lost in his soft, honeydew eyes. such gentle compared to geto who was a bit more—crazed. “he didn’t scare you too bad, did he?”

you moan once you feel geto run a thumb against your already exposed cunt. with a firm head shake, you huff. “no, n-not really.”

“aw what. i thought i was pretty scary,” and you whimper out once he blows against your folds. for a concise moment, geto stares up at you—dark eyes keeping a strong gaze on you. “tell us what you want, pretty girl. you want us to help you finish?”

you nod, feeling geto spread your legs apart further.

nanami, with a gloved hand purses your lips together, forming them into a tight squeeze before humming. “words, princess. use them, okay?”

the more you feel geto’s breath fan against your clit, teasing you—you were about to go feral. you stare up at nanami before letting off a sweet whine. “i- i want you both to help me finish,” you stutter out, stumbling over your pathetic words like you’d stumble with an untied shoe. “make me cum, please kento.”

he leans in to kiss your forehead and you hear geto scoff underneath. “i’m the one between your legs but whatever,” and you feel his soft lips kiss against your pussy. “kento, keep her distracted for me, will ya?”

“you’re so pretty,” he mutters, lightly lifting up your chin. as he wore black gloves—the fabric gently brushes against your lip, popping a thumb into your mouth. he doesn’t expect for you to happily take it in his mouth, sucking on it. “oh,” he breathes, a bit speechless. you stare into nanami’s eyes, swirling your tongue around his thumb in such an erotic way. lowly hooded eyes stare at him the entire time, you moan once you feel the flatness of geto’s tongue run against your sweet clitoral hood. his tongue—the texture of it was so cold, the moment he digs in he makes you know the pure definition of sloppy. all with his tongue, he slowly flicks it against your nub before delving his tongue deeper between your soddened folds. nanami pulls your chin to face him again before softly purring, “don’t look at him, look at me pretty girl.”

as your eyes focus back towards nanami, you could already feel your legs quavering. you felt hot, the lewd way geto drags his tongue against your pussy makes you gasp out three strained second puffs of air.

“k-kento,” you moan, pawing your hands at the low part of his robe. he watches, lowering his head at you before you reach there. nanami’s bulge, he has an abashed expression as he realizes what you were fondling at. “take it off.”

“ah, ask nicely,” he coos. your lips were now glossed with your own spit he smears against you as he pulls his gloved thumb out of your mouth. even though nanami was more tame than geto, his voice had a bit more dominance in it. he grabs your chin gently, cocking his head toward the side. “tell me what you want ‘n i’ll give it to you.”

your legs felt like they were standing on its last few hinges—geto’s tongue runs down your slit, taking a moment to depart his lips and spit on it, only to then lap it up again. a few annoyed grunts escape out of him partially due to his long strands of hair getting in the way. “so sweet,” he mutters, you whimper once he prods two fingers against your outer entrance. every few seconds he’d kiss near your thighs, leaving a few bite bite marks before focusing back towards your folds. “mhm.”

barely even able to keep focus, you gaze back up at nanami who’s standing near the edge of the bed—you’re laid back against the pillows with geto between your thighs. finally, a sweet mewl of words leave your glazed lips. “i- i wanna taste, ‘ken. wanna suck you off,” and he gives you a playful eyebrow raise, prying his pink lips open a few inches apart before you correct yourself. “pretty please.”

“better,” he murmurs, a hand of his reaching towards your head to give it a good pat. “good girl. go ahead, lift it up ‘n enjoy the meal.”

with a soft slackened sigh, you lift up the obsidian black robe. you’re met with ripped jeans, for some reason you just figured he’d already be sprung out for you. as geto’s still lapping up every drop of your taste, you unzip his fly before yanking down his pants. you were so impatient— and with geto’s demented pace, you were getting close. he chuckles, watching you struggle with the zipper for a bit before finally reaching near his boxers. they were a cerulean blueish color, his bulge was just appetizing. the entire shape of it, you felt yourself starting to drool the longer your eyes made direct contact against it. so rounded and full. with clammy hands, you tug them down before his thick cock springs out.

“it’s okay,” he whispers with a nod, watching you glance up him—a silent gesture as a way of asking if you could go further. nanami brings a hand towards the crown of your head, gingerly massaging his fingers through the crevices of your scalp. “you can be a little messy for me.”

a wretched whine that was raw rips from your throat once you feel geto’s tongue latch against your cunt. by now, he was sucking against your folds. the squelches were so sloppy, a hand of yours grab onto his hair for leverage and he shoots you a sly smile.

“don’t be shy girl, yank on it.”

dark pooled irises linger into yours for a long time before you get a good grip of geto’s hair, dragging him closer towards your entrance. over and over and over.

he giggles, hot breath ghosting against your folds and you throb even more. with dilated irises staring back towards nanami, you wrap your free hand around his length—he was so thick, such full balls that you just wanted to run your tongue all across it. he had a few veins skim down his beige, weighty cock. you could make out a few drops of lustrous pre-cum that decorates near his very tip. “u-ugh,” he shakes, the warmth that your tongue provides has him smothering his lips together. nanami watches, you’re slow but deadly.

pursing your lips together, you gradually start to sink him into your mouth.

geto’s still between your thighs, shoving two fingers in and out of you now—he surrounds your clit with his mouth, the suction he creates with just his lips was brutal. you’re moaning, even whilst your noises were pretty much muffled due to nanami’s fat cock. “easy,” he whispers, tapping a thumb against your cheek. “no teeth, okay? you’re doing s-so good.”

nanami groans, goading the same thumb against your cheek before you inch yourself further and further down. he has a shy smile at the way your hair forms in musses due to his tight grip. within no time, your throat’s already stuffed and few droplets of your own saliva trickles down the sides of your mouth. geto’s still making sure to thrust his gloved digits in and out of your soaked cunt and you don’t know which roommate to focus on.

“m-mphm,” was all you could manage out, your legs in a swift spread-eagle position. as you’re outstretched, you feel yourself about to cum. you’d recognize that feeling anywhere—the feeling when a swelling pool of heat residing inside your stomach tickles throughout your entire abdomen. that same feeling of nirvana courses through your veins as you’re now leisurely bobbing your head. every time you pull on geto’s long hair, he grunts—spanking your clit in response and that only causes you to whine for more. nanami strokes your face as he starts to feel his dick prod against the roof of your mouth. for a split second as you’re breathing through each nostril—you gag, long lashes fluttering in sync together.

your legs couldn’t hold still, geto’s continuously pushing you towards your limit before you whimper out. your tongue lathers over the splotches of pre-cum that paints nanami’s tip a pretty shade of snowy white.

he just couldn’t keep his eyes off of you, especially not with a face like that.

low eyes, sheepish smile, furrowed eyebrows. you’re convulsing profusely all in geto’s mouth, the sides of your thighs occasionally hitting against his face and he titters. “such a sloppy m-mouth,” nanami inhales deeply, and he starts to gently drag your head against his cock. he’s got your mouth filled with so many inches—your cheeks were all puffed up from his immense length, sheeny slobber emanating all down the sides of your mouth before he pants. “gonna make such a mess ‘n your mouth, princess. ‘s that what you want?”

you nod, feeling the vein that runs down his girthy cock twitch in your mouth. you moan, he’s feeling weightless—you’ve got his knees trembling, a hand’s still attached to your head like velcro before gyrating your tongue all over the crownhead of his shaft. “such a pretty face,” he gruffs lowly, swiftly pulling your hair side to side to take every inch. “s-shame i gotta ruin it a little.”

even nanami’s dirty talk was tame— it was cute to witness, the way his blond brows would tug into a furrow. he’s so pent up, and out of nowhere—you feel a sudden rush erupt within your cunt. before you could even react, you end up cumming hard. it shoots out of you like a rough wave, it’s such pure bliss that it takes you a few seconds to realize. geto’s making out with your pussy, slowly sliding his two protected fingers in and out of your sopping wet entrance and you shudder. “what a fuckin’ mess,” he hums, taking sight at how saturated you were. as geto laps his tongue against your folds once more, he stares back up at you and nanami. “aw. look at you two,” and he leans down to kiss your forehead. “slobbin’ everywhere, messy girl you are.”

your eyes go back up towards nanami, he’s sweating.

he felt as if the fabric of his robe stuck against his skin. while he’s holding it up with one hand, you sneak a stare at his abs, perfect washboard abs that looked quintessentially sculpted against his body. “g-gonna cum,” and he stares at geto, growing a bit flustered once all attention’s on him. “suguru, don’t just stand there. p…praise her.”

geto scoffs, kneeling beside you on the bed before moving a few strands from your face. “so bossy,” he grits before giving you your second head pat. he leans up close to your ear, grabbing the voice changer again and brings it up to his lips. “c’mon, doll. make ‘ken cum, yeah. doin’ so good for us. you’re gonna make him whine for you, heh.”

nanami’s legs felt like mush, he throws his head back, his long black robe syncing with his movements before he’s gently pulling your head against his thick cock. he shudders, welts of twinges close in on the undersides of his thighs before he finally finishes. it builds up gradually before you find him pouring into your mouth with a nice amount of parching hot cum. it’s hot, a good mass of satiny ropes coat the flat middle part of your tongue and you moan. “f-fuuuck,” he heaves through heavy lungs, it’s still trickling, you savor the taste. it’s bitterly sweet. he pulls out of your mouth before letting off a tremulous sigh. “good girl, f-fuck.”

“aw. don’t hog her, give me attention too,” geto sneers, softly grabbing you by the neck, making you face him. with his right hand, he squeezes your lips together with a rigid grip. “ah, don’t swallow yet. c’mere.”

with half-lidded eyes, you do—leaning into his touch before geto plants his warm lips onto yours. you’re caught by surprise for the umpteenth time today, prying your mouth open for him and he lolls his tongue down your throat. you let off a whine, feeling his gloved hands rub against every inch of your body. immediately, he tastes the candied flavor of nanami’s cum and it makes him groan. he didn’t even bat an eye—you return the kiss, feeling geto’s hand slither further down towards your ass. he caresses it, giving it a mean spank to make you moan out in ecstasy.

after a while, he pulls away, humming at nanami. “ken ken, don’t be so shy. you want a taste too?”

“yeah,” he mutters, needy eyes staring at your lips that were lubricated with your own sheeny spit. “can i?”

you nod, and he’s so gentle with you. a hand nimbly wraps around your throat before he brings you into a deeper kiss. geto’s still for his hands on you, strumming his fingers near your pulled to the side panties. you let off a soft pant, feeling the spiral of nanami’s tongue go against yours. he tastes sweet — savory even, his flavor was purely mouthwatering. a thumb drags down the passageway of your throat before he pulls away. it’s slow, a polished concoction of saliva departs from each mouth and you whimper. you were throbbing, desperate for more and they both knew that. if this— whatever this was was some sort of movie, you never wanted it to end. you never wanted the credits to roll because you felt like you were floating on cloud nine.

with the two of them, you were stretched in every way possible. if you could compare who was bigger, actually you couldn’t. throughout multiple positions, you felt as if you were gonna snap in half. they had you so stupid. pink tongue rolled out, full lungs of oxygen departing out such hot breaths of air, you were the definition of stupid.

cockdrunk at its finest. each orgasm that got ruthlessly snatched out of you had your head spinning, heart racing entirely.

you felt like something was creeping up behind your shoulder, chills. whenever you’d coax out yet another teeth-shattering orgasm, all you felt was stone cold chills. time after time, it felt like pure bliss—you thought you were in a whole new world, barely even able to move your thighs an inch. being sandwiched between the two of them, perhaps you were a little greedy but you just couldn’t get enough. geto’s degrading you whilst nanami’s whispering sweet pleasures into your ear, you’ve never felt more soaked.

you didn’t wanna stop—

currently, you’re straddling nanami. he’s got two rough hands gripping your waist, intaking every inch of your pretty physique. his stare sends you butterflies, his shaft was underneath you and only then pulls out. with a cute, “phew,” he swipes a sheet of sweat that expands across his forehead. you rode him so good that he couldn’t even figure out what to say. he was so flustered, tips of his ears a reddish hot before he watches geto creep behind you. “think she wants more, suguru.”

“bet she does,” he whispers, bringing a few sweet kisses near the inner corners of your neck.

you’re promptly sat up straight. the brief sounds of booming speakers roar from downstairs as you wrap your arms around nanami. geto licks near your collarbone before purring seductively. “say, doll. how ‘bout you try to take us both? would ya like that?” and with a gloved hand he gives your ass a squeeze. “wanna be the final girl ‘n prove your worth? our final girl?”

without an inkling of hesitation—you nod, mewling out a sweet, “yes, yes jus’ hurry up, sugu. ‘m still c…close.”

“so wet, so impatient,” he whispers once more, and with two hands he makes you sit up from nanami. you gulp—swallowing whatever sanity you had left, preparing to be quite literally double stuffed with your roommates. you aren’t so sure why, but the fact that they both still had on their ghoulish costumes made you pulsate a bit more. geto’s helping you slide back down onto nanami’s length before slowly making his way into you also. “god, you’re so hot in here. gonna fuckin’ swallow me whole.”

you moan, everything goes so slow—your cunt was a ticking time bomb. you clamp down on each before slumping into nanami’s chest. you’re met with kind eyes, he strokes your forehead before kissing the bridge of your nose, panting in a hushed voice. “eyes on me, princess. just relax.”

you wriggle a bit at the positioning—being on nanami’s lap, geto directly behind you, you’re quite literally being filled in every orifice by thick inches of cock. nanami’s words were soothing, filling up your tummy with a pool of fluttering butterflies. you keep your eyes on him, clenching down on geto a bit before you hear him hiss in response. “ugh. doll open up for me a little m-more, yeah.”

his voice was deepened heavily—you let off a cute gasp once they’re both finally in and a few shaky breaths exit past your lips. “hold my hand, i got you,” nanami coos, and that’s when geto starts to rock. he had more control between the two of you, the grip on your hips was firm and you let off a sweet babble. each individual entrance was stuffed, you swallow the invisible lump in your throat as you start to feel the sweltering friction of your thighs slap against nanami. “you’re so pretty like this,” and he kisses the temple of your cheek.

every kiss presented from nanami makes your heart race—being sandwiched between nanami and geto, you really did feel like the main character.

your lip tremors, grinding back and forth between each of them, you feel geto wrap his thick fingers around your neck.

whilst you’re still straddling nanami—you moan again and again, feeling a free hand of geto’s spank your ass. the stretch that you continuously felt had your mouth watering. you heard the harmonic pap pap pap’s until it rang throughout your ears. “fuck, ya like being stuffed don’t you, pretty girl? feel full enough?” geto rasps, pressing his body right up against you. you felt his hot temperature go against your skin. making you feel every amount of his heat. your brain’s swelling up with fog. giving him an inert nod, you hear him click his tongue. “didn’t say to nod your head, doll. i wanna hear that sweet voice.”

whenever geto lowers his voice a bit, you feel the abrupt tension arise between your legs. leaning against nanami, you whine out a, “hngh y-yesss, ‘m so full, sugu. want more, stuff me more.”

“let me stuff your mouth too then.”

and before you could come up with a reply, geto removes his glove—shoving your mouth with two fat digits. he grunts, watching as you’re so compliant with your throat being filled with his fingers. nanami stares at the entire scene in front of him, his dick idly twitching inside of you. your tongue runs down his fingers before your own spit starts to seep down the corners of your lips. it was messy—you were messy. your hips jitter and judder and you knew with having both holes stuffed you weren’t gonna last that much longer. it was probably the dozenth orgasm your pussy’s been introduced with and you could feel the creeping pleasure brew up inside your abdomen.

“suguru, ‘m gonna cum.” nanami groans, bringing his own hands to wrap around your waist. you lessen your tense from his touch before gagging a bit from the prodding of geto’s fingers way back into your throat. “she’s s-squeezing me so good.”

geto snickers, making eye contact with nanami. “are you? ‘ken, you’re more whinier than usual today.”

“shut up.” he grumbles, slapping a hand over his face in embarrassment — nanami wasn’t so known to be all flustered and abashed, but whenever he was, it was so cute.

you’ve still got a mouthful of geto’s fingers before he pulls them out only to shove them into his own mouth. he hums, sharp hips snapping into you repeatedly as his other free hand tightens its secured grasp around your hip. “mhm,” he groans, feeling himself reaching his peak also. “you taste like a final girl. so sweet like candy.”

with the piston of geto’s vigorous hips, you’re so loose that you feel the fleeting sensation of your cunt gaping.

its cavernous, you jerk forward against nanami before seconds later — geto groans, abruptly finishing two seconds early. even his moans were pretty, he tugs his fingers out of your mouth to wrap them around your neck. strands of black hair glue to his forehead and he puffs out a single breath. licking a stripe near your neck, he feels thick volumes of his cum ooze into your hole. it’s so sticky, you bring your hips to a slowing halt before nanami shoots inside you too.

“f-fuck, sugu,” nanami grunts, feeling his thighs stick underneath you. he was panting heavily, each breath that ran from his lips sounding more and more wearied. “damn, so m-much.”

everything spurts into you at once. they mirror each other inside of you perfectly. callused stubby fingertips of geto’s squeeze your neck softly, watching as you’re just being filled with bulky strings of cum, it floods your cunt until it drizzles further into your womb. you’re drooling, it feels so hot, sweltering hot. it sticks against your entrance before your arms wrap around nanami. “so f-full,” you whimper, and he returns the gesture by brushing his thumb against your waist. droopy eyes hang low before nanami pulls you into another deep kiss. you decided—this was far better than some dumb party. the cottony fabric of the ghostface robe pricks against your skin as you lean into his heinous touch.

you shift your weight against nanami’s lap, feeling geto pull out before he leans down between your legs. “spread your legs,” he mutters, and in the midst of your tongue roaming down nanami’s throat, you part your thighs—gasping once you feel geto’s own tongue lap against the freshly created mess. he makes little tiny licks, tasting the ropes of crisp cum that’s sloppily easing out of every entrance—you pulsate before he chortles, warm breath ventilating against your sobbing pussy. “so messy. don’t want any spillin’ out. gotta push it back in.”

you’re moaning, after a while you break away from nanami’s lips before he strokes your cheek lovingly, a cute drowsy look before he huffs, “did you hear me, pretty?” and he gently pokes your cheek. “you always do this..”

confusion hits you before your eyes suddenly open—you jolt up, both of your roommates beside you, gawking at you with a look of deadpan. you’re leaning against geto, the third movie of scream playing in the background—it was near the ending where the killer was being revealed. you sit up, staring down at your legs and you were fully clothed—there was no geto eating between your legs, no being stuffed with nanami, nothing.

“hellooo, earth to roomie,” geto waves his hand in your face, you stare at him before furrowing your brows. “you okay? you fell asleep on me again. what’s got ya so spooked? looks like ya seen a ghost.”

so it was a dream?

a mere glimpse of your lewd imagination—?

you have a sudden sheepish look, running your fingers near the nape of your neck. “huh. oh, i’m fine. i thought the movie would be over by now.”

nanami rubs your back. “we still have like twenty minutes left,” and then he looks at you with a concerned look. so gentle—so tender. “are you sure you’re okay? we can watch a rom-com if you want.”

“i’m okay,” you insist, slumping your head back against geto.

that was weird, out of all the dreams you’ve had throughout your life—none of them ever felt as surreal as that one. for some reason, you were still aroused though. you were a bit out of breath and felt chills run all over your body.

abruptly, your phone rings,

“sugu, can you pass me my phone?” you sigh, trying to relax. you were pretty bummed you weren’t at that party getting stuffed with your two roommates but instead—in your generic dorm watching a scary movie.

he hands you the phone, grabbing the remote to turn it down a few notches.

once you take it, succinctly, your eyes scan across the screen—it reads that it’s from an unknown number. not really thinking much, you decide to answer, swiping the green button to answer. “um, hello?”

“hello.”

“hi,” you rub your eyes. “can i help y-”

“what’s your favorite scary movie?”

rolling your eyes, you peer at your two roommates beside you, nudging them and peeling the phone away from your ear for a moment. “very funny, suguru.”

geto gives you a look of confusion and nanami mimics the same. he shrugs, averting his eyes back toward the movie. “very funny what.”

and suddenly you’re laid back, an unbelieving expression was expressed on your face as you were left with a weird feeling. if it wasn’t them then who—

that same chill eerily creeps up your spine before you put the phone back near your ear. it’s that same low voice you heard from before, each word it speaks pitches deeper before you grow quiet at its final haunting response,

“oh baby, i’m not suguru or nanami..”

[hayatheauthor]

20 Flirty Remarks to Build Romantic Tension Without Being Overbearing

Feeling stuck trying to give your characters a good flirty one-liner that doesn't sound cringe/overdone? Here are 20 ideas/dialogue prompts for you (that I may or may not have stolen from my own books): 

“I must warn you: you have a dangerous effect on my heart rate.” / "You have no idea what you're doing to my heart right now."

"If I said I wasn’t thinking about you, I’d be lying. And I’m a terrible liar."

"You know, I could get lost in those eyes, but I'd probably trip over my words trying to find my way back." (could also double as description/inner monologue).

“I can’t tell if you’re really charming or if I’m just easily charmed.”

“You have a knack for making me forget what I was going to say. It’s kind of impressive/infuriating.”

“I think you owe me a drink. When I saw you, I dropped mine.”

“I’ve been trying to find the perfect excuse to hang out, but I keep forgetting everything when I’m around you.”

“I bet you get away with a lot of trouble with that smile.”

“You must be a magician because every time you walk in, everyone else disappears.” (The right character could pull it off I swear)

"I’ve been trying to think of something clever to say, but all my brain can come up with is how much I want to (kiss) you."

"I saw that little glance—you’re not as sneaky as you think."

"How do you manage to make even the most mundane things sound exciting?"

"You do this cute thing with your hands when you’re nervous, you know?"

“One more word, and I might just have to kiss you.”

"Finally, there's that pretty smile of yours. I've been waiting for it all day."

"You keep staring—should I be flattered?" / "Keep looking at me like that and I might start thinking you have a crush on me."

"Do you have any idea how fun it is to watch you try to keep a straight face?"

"I’m pretty sure you could charm the socks off anyone, but I’d like to keep mine on for now."

"If laughter is the best medicine, then I’m pretty sure you’re my favorite doctor."

"Is it bad that I kind of like the way you’re trying to mess with me?"

Looking For More Writing Tips And Tricks? 

Check out the rest of Quillology with Haya; a blog dedicated to writing and publishing tips for authors! Instagram Tiktok

[dumplingsjinson]

List of “not-so-random suggestive and non-suggestive” prompts 

“How was your sleep?” “Mm.. It was good. Better.” “Better how?” “Better because you’re here.” (THE WAY I GOT SO FLUSTERED WTF)

“That’s my girl/boy,” Character B murmurs in a hushed voice, stroking their fingers through Character A’s hair while Character A rests their head on their chest, trying to catch their breath. (THE SCREAM I SCRUMPT INTERNALLY, THE AUDACITY HE AUDACITIED??? WHAT THE FUCK??? EXCUSEEEE MEEEEEE??? BTW, SIR, HOW DO YOU LIKE YOUR EGGS IN THE MORNING-)

“Fuck, you turn me on so much with the noises you make,” Character B groans, thrusting their hips up into Character A’s and Character A whimpering softly at that. (Okay so I added the fuck at the start because it’s hotter this way bUTTTT WKGKSKFS PLSSSSS I JUST- OH MY GOD, I think I just realised that dialogue to me is SO IMPORTANT LMFAOOO)

“There are two hot things in this room right now: you, and the temperature.” (LET ME BREATHE, DAMNNNN) 

“Mmm, I’m gonna hog the bed so you can’t get on,” Character A murmurs, laying sprawled out on the bed. “That’s fine, I can just lay on you,” Character B says, making their way to the bed. “…Are you calling me a bed?” Character A questions as Character B gets on top of them, careful not to crush them under their weight. “Yeah, you're my bed,” Character B murmurs, snuggling close to Character A. (FUCKCKKCKXKDKKSKGKAKD HE’S JUST OUT HERE FLIRTING TO THE MAX WITH ME AND LEAVING ME SPEECHLESS TF)

“I told you my bed’s cozy,” Character B says, chuckling as they make their way over to Character A, who’s snuggled up under the covers. They pull the cover back and climb into the bed next to Character A, wrapping their arms around them. “And now it’s even cozier,” Character B murmurs into Character A’s neck. “Because you’re here?” Character A questions playfully. “Yeah,” Character B answers.

A laughter filled tickling play fight session somehow turning into them making out, turning into Character A straddling Character B, head thrown back in pleasure as they grind their hips against Character B’s while Character B holds onto their hips, thrusts matching the momentum of Character A’s movements.  

Spending way too much time tickling each other, peals of laughter coming from them both as they both try to attack each other’s sensitive spots. (His laughter is so cute AND I REALLY MISS HIM PLS WJDSK)

Morning cuddles and kisses as sunlight spills into the room.

“I’m gonna fuck you so good once we get there, yeah?” (MY HONEST REACTION WAS LITERALLY “???” I JUST?? WHAT?? SINCE WHEN WAS HE- AND HIM SWEARING? HOT HOT HOT HOT WKGKAKS)

Character A taking Character B’s hand into theirs while they’re driving. “You can drive with one hand, right?” they ask with a little grin, and Character B chuckles and nods. “Of course I can.” (HIM DRIVING WITH ONE HAND IS SO HOT BYE)

Character B guiding the speed of Character A’s hips as Character A grinds against them. (can he PLEASE manhandle me-)

“Okay, I’ll let you tickle me wherever you want if you give me one kiss.” (He lied a few times AHAHA, dodged my attacks instead after I gave him his kisses bruhhh) 

Character B lending their clothes to Character A since Character A’s staying the night. (The way I smelled like him AHHHH)

The soft “yeah?” Character B would mutter in response when they’re messing around with Character A and noises would fall from Character A’s mouth, involuntarily.

Stopping their play fight every now and again to kiss each other. 

Character B flirting with Character A and Character A not knowing how to respond other than half groaning and half laughing and calling them insufferable (affectionately). (Like I said, I’m romantically constipated-) 

Character B laughing every time Character A calls them annoying and insufferable whenever they flirt with them. 

Character A leaning in to kiss Character B… And then using that opportunity to tickle them when Character B’s guards are down. 

Them just laughing with each other at the dumbest shit until they’re out of breath; finding comfort and joy in each other’s company. 

Character A teasing Character B with how ticklish they are on certain spots. 

Character B tugging at the hem of Character A’s top, wanting to take it off, but Character A shakes their head and Character B immediately respects that by backing off a bit. (I’m including this because I don’t think people understand that any signs of no means no. Some people need to take notes for real)

“So… Are you going to stay over tonight?” “…Mm, maybe next time.” “You always say next time, though.” (EWLKNFWELN He really wanted me to stay, and I clearly folded so um pwnfewklnf) 

“I’m sorry if I’m like… Slow with all of this? I’m not experienced with any of this, and I don’t know what I’m doing. And I don’t think I’m ready for… You know.” “And that’s fine. Like I said, we’ll take it slow; we’ve got all the time in the world to get comfortable with each other, hm?” (WHEN I SAY I WAS GOING WEKJFNEWJKNEWFLN WHEN HE REASSURED ME, I LOVE HIM SO MUCH AHHH)

Character B climbing back into bed after taking their morning shower to get more cuddles in with Character A before they have to go to work.

“You can just change in here if you want.” (WO4HKLWFN THIS FUCKING MAN LMFAOOO, the way I didn’t listen and went to the bathroom to change because I’m still feeling too embarrassed to change in front of him even though he’s kind of seen me topless before)

Hugging each other a little tighter, and Character A mumbling, “God, I really don’t want to leave” before they part ways.

“The way you keep running around in my mind everyday… How dare you?” Character A mumbles. “Well, is there a problem with that?” Character B questions with a chuckle. (I’m bold for this one, praise me LKNEFKLNWG)

The constant check ins from Character B, to make sure Character A’s all good and well. (every prompt list has this because it’s something I’ll always fucking harp on about lmao)

Character B grasping Character A’s wrists so they’d stop attacking their ticklish spots, pulling them in for a kiss instead. (He did this SO MANY TIMES AND FAILED SO MANY TIMES AHAHA, I’m a sneaky menace) 

Character A pulling the Spiderman kiss on Character B while Character B’s lying down. (I WANNA KISS HIM MORE FUCKSLKFNES’F)

Character A waking up in Character B’s clothes and in their bed, hair all mussed up and sporting a faint mark on their neck. (I think I uh… I think I like having marks on my neck?? Made by him, specifically, IDK wpeofnew;nf)

Get home safe! Love you lots and lots, Character B texts Character A. (THE WAY I SMILED WHEN I SAW HIS TEXT WHILE HEADING TO THE STATION AHAHA, it wasn’t even ten minutes since we parted and he sent me this and I was fangirling about it to my friends AHAHA) 

“Aren’t you going to get up now? You gotta get to work,” Character A says, poking Character B’s side. “Mmm, five more minutes,” Character B murmurs, pulling Character A closer to them. (HE’S SO CLINGY AND I LOVE IT SO MUCH AHDFOEKNF)

Character A realising they might actually be falling in love, slowly but surely, with Character B. (YEAH SO THIS IS A REVELATION AND A HALF AND IDK HOW TO FEEL ABOUT IT) 

[breathinlove]

sticky fingers ellie williams

read this

synopsis: you and your best friend got popsicles on a hot day, but ellie finishes hers first.

cw: swearing, dialogue heavy at first, homoerotic friendship i fear, hinted themes, dirty minded hoes who act oblivious, a whole lotta mouth and tongue but no nothang but slighhhhhttttlyyy nsfw.

a/n: idk what this is it just came to me as i had a popsicle in the morning lmao... i js missed writing.

you're walking home with one of best friends, ellie, after a day at the park. it was a boring and oppressively hot day. you had bought yourselves ice lollies to help survive the sultry weather.

"is it good?" ellie speaks, pointing to your yellow popsicle.

"yeah, ellie, it's good." you say, matter-of-factly.

"i love pineapple." she looks away from you as you come closer to the crossing, both you looking to the sides of the road in sync.

“i know, me too." you reply shortly, not giving her the time of day, rapidly crossing the street. ellie stays silent, but not for too long.

"well..." she mutters when she catches your trail.

"yes?" you know what she wants but you still play dumb. you're not gonna give it to her.

“just a taste—" she starts whining, and you cut her off.

“nope." that's all you say in response.

you turn the stick horizontally as you get to the middle of the ice lolly, you suck on it and she's snorts heavily. she seems to drag her feet along the sidewalk.

“please, it's so hot out here.” ellie insists on the subject.

"it’s not my fault you fucking gobbled yours." you giggle, flicking her forehead.

she lets out a cartoon-like ‘ouch’ and she pushes your arm.

"bruh, it was small." ellie complains before wiping sweat off her nape, where strands of hair stuck onto.

“doooon't caaaare.” you smirk.

you bite the ice off the stick and she looks like she's mourning its loss. ellie loves pineapple artificial flavoring, despite choosing not to eat too much actual pineapple because when you two ate a bunch of pineapple slices together, you ended up with prickled tongues and mouth ulcers. it wasn't fun.

you can read her expression well enough to let out a chuckle, almost choking on the juice that pools inside your mouth. she clicks her tongue at the sound of slurping coming from you, she focuses on the noise of lawn mowers on your neighborhood instead, but they're just as annoying.

"ellie." you mutter with a heavy breath, she can hear what remains on your tongue moving. she hums in response.

you know ellie's annoyed. you were friends, but you were afraid that you had spoiled her. whenever you denied her anything, she'd catch an attitude. and you liked teasing her. you thought she looked cute when she'd look away from you with a serious face over something so small as a popsicle.

“lukami.” you say, he contorts her face in confusion, and you slurp at the juices to clear your words.

“look at me." you repeat, now coherently, grabbing her cheeks.

“yeah? what do you want?" she looks at you, and you take a disgustingly loud and final slurp.

ellie knows the pineapple stick is gone now, and she didn't even get to taste it. she pictured herself tasting it off your lips, or even your tongue. she wondered if she'd able to feel the refreshment if she sucked on your tongue after all the sucking you did on that popsicle.

“guess what?” you smile, she takes a little too long to answer and you wonder what goes through her mind.

but well, she's nasty, isn't she? she wanted it, no matter if it meant licking around one of her best friend's mouth. she's upset, but she knows it's silly.

“what?” she shrugs.

"i have popsicles at home.” you say excitedly and you look giddy, your sugary fingers still on her face.

“whatever," she looked away, forcing away from your hold. "get those sticky fingers away from me."

"that's a great album, by the way." you ignore her demand, chuckling.

you mess with her cheeks, smearing her with the syrup on your hand. you left a spot on her lips, she licked it. finally, she knows what it tasted like and she yearns for more.

“you're so messy, ya know?" she smiles wide.

you look at your hand as she grabs and holds it where it was, against her lips. you stop on your tracks completely, feeling her tongue stick out of her lips and coming in contact with the pad of your fingers, it tickles. you giggle.

she hums at the sweetness of it and looks up at you from your fingers, what a kid!

"ellie, please, what's wrong with you?" you laugh, and she does too. sugar puts her in a good mood.

“should've just let me taste it.” she speaks.

you would've thought she was done but ellie takes your index finger inside her mouth for shits and giggles, her warm as the day tongue massaging your finger as she sucks on it.

“you're so stupid.” you say, using minimal to no strength to push her face with the hand she entrapped. she smiles around your finger.

you feel the desire to slide your finger further into her mouth to wipe that shit-eating grin of her face. you imagined how ellie would look when she gagged on it, the shock in her eyes would be amusing, you assume. these thoughts run around your mind.

you think she might have an oral fixation by the looks of it,you look around, making sure no one was watching this seemingly obscenity.

"god, ellie.." you sigh in defeat when she flutters her eyes shut. you watch, mind running around her soft features and braking on her pursed lips, tainted red from her late watermelon popsicle.

then she releases your finger, after god knows how long (now that your fingerprint is practically part of her tongue’s muscle memory). you snap back to reality, freshly cut grass smell hitting your nose and unbearable sun hitting your skin.

ellie looks proud of herself.

"it really was good. what flavors you got at home?" she asks and starts walking again. you clean your now spit dirty fingers on your shirt and walk with her, enumerating the flavors of popsicles your dad had bought and stacked in the freezer.

[intoxicated-chan]

Okay, so this is more on the soft angst side, but would you be willing to write a Miguel x F!Reader (or gender neutral if you’d prefer that) where Miguel visits Reader’s universe to check in on them since they haven’t visited the Spider Society headquarters for some time now, and he shows up at her apartment right as she’s in the middle of fixing up her wounds after a massive fight. And so he helps patch up her wounds, and after some intense eye contact between the two of them, they kiss (it should be noted that they’ve been pining over each other awhile now, but neither of them have said anything to the other).

And if it isn’t too much, I have these dialogue prompts you can add as well if you need anymore inspiration (you totally don’t have to use them, I just thought they’d fit perfectly with this scenario).

“Are you alright? Where are you hurt?”

“You don’t have to come over here and take care of me you know. I can clean up my own messes.”

“Can I stay? I'll take the couch.”

If this feels like too much, don’t hesitate to decline this ask! I’m just really excited 😅

I Need You to Stay

✿ฺ Paring ➳❥ Miguel O’Hara x F!Reader

✿ฺ Summary ➳❥ Miguel hasn’t heard from you in weeks, he wonders what’s keeping you so busy.

✿ฺ (A/n) ➳❥ Inspired by “Stay” by Ari Abdul. Thank you for the request Anon! I hope you enjoy it and are taking care of yourself. Have a wonderful day/night!

✿ฺ Word Count ➳❥ 887

✿ฺ Content Warnings ➳❥ Female reader, mention of violence, mentions of death, light angst, fluffy, blood, open wounds, light swearing…

Four weeks. It has been four weeks since Miguel last saw you. Normally, he wouldn’t be so worried, but it’s been four days. Usually, if you couldn’t make it, you’d talk to him through a screen but that hasn’t happened in the four weeks. Not a call, not a text, not even a simple message. Heck, even Lyla hasn’t heard anything from you.

Miguel sighs, “I can believe I’m saying this right now…” He looks at Peter B. “I’m putting you in charge until I get back.”

“Where are you going?” Peter B. asks.

“I haven’t heard anything from (Y/n) and Lyla can’t reach her. I’ll be back soon.”

Gwen pops up from behind Peter B.,“Can I join you?” She asks, pulling her hood up as she walks closer to Miguel, “I want to see the person who has Miguel O’Hara crushing on.”

“Excuse me?” Miguel cocks an eyebrow.

“You heard me!”

“No.” Walking away from Gwen.

“Why not?” And Gwen quickly follows.

“Because she could be in danger.” Miguel begins adjusting his gizmo to the correct universe.

“You saw me in action, I could help.” Gwen retorts.

“And I said…” A portal opens up, “No.” Then he disappeared and Gwen scoffed.

“I told you he wouldn’t listen.” Peter B. laughs with Mayday in his arms and Miles right beside him, laughing along.

Miguel lands on the rooftop of your apartment with a grunt. He takes a moment to look around and see if anything has changed, and something did. It was midnight in your universe and the lights to your apartment were still on.

He jumps down and easily clings onto the wall next to your window. With his other hand, he slowly slides your window open and slips in, closing it behind him.

“I know you’re here Miguel!” You call out from the other room, “Heard you since you landed on the roof.”

He chuckles as he walks towards the sound of your voice, “I shouldn’t be so surprised, your abilities have always impressed-” His eyes widen as he looks at you.

You sat at the table, bloody bandages on the table, cotton balls and fresh bandages. But the blood still dripping from the open wounds on your arm made his stomach churn, not in a good way.

He swallows thickly as he comes closer, taking your injured arm in his hand, “Who did this to you?” He growls.

“I took care of it.” You tell him, but it doesn’t stop him from worrying, “Nothing left but cuts and bruises… That will heal.” You try to sooth his worry.

“Are you alright? Where are you hurt?”

“You’re holding the only thing that’s hurting right now.”

Miguel uses his webbing to pull up another chair to sit. He grabs the disinfectant and pours some of his on a cotton ball, you hiss at the contact as he cleans up the blood.

“You don’t have to come over here and take care of me, you know. I can clean up my own messes.” You speak through gritted teeth as it still burns.

“...How strong were they?” He speaks through the awkwardness.

“It wasn’t because they were strong.” You admit, “I got carried away, distracted.”

“By what?”

“The bastard was wearing colors similar to yours. I thought it was you for a split second, and in the second, I was open for an attack and they took it… I’m sorry.”

“Why are you apologizing?” Grabbing the bandages and wrapping up your arm.

“Don’t you remember the first time you brought me on a mission with you. I got distracted.”

“Of course I remember, what kind of idiot throws themself in front of someone.” He looks over the bandages, making sure they’re on correctly and not too tight.

“I thought you were going to die that day, I thought if I could at least save Spider-Man, then for once I did something good in my life.” Your head hangs in shame.

“We cannot save everyone, no matter how hard we try.” Miguel huffs, “At least…” He cups your face, slowly lifting your head to look at him, “I got to save you.”

“Migu-”

“Can I stay?” He asks, “I’ll take the couch.”

“I’m fine, I don’t need someone looking after me.” You pick up the bloody cotton balls and bandages.

“You’re shaking.”

“My arm still hurts and the adrenaline is still pumping.” You lie.

“Please don’t lie to me, (Y/n). You know how much I hate liars.” He comes closer, “Tell me what’s got you so distracted.”

“Everything about you. From your stupid, lovely hair to you entirely.Which is why I stayed away, I didn’t want to be so distracted that I’d cause the team to fall apart.” He cups your face once more and closes the space between you two. His lips falling onto yours.

It made Miguel’s heart beat faster and faster, and for some reason, the pit in his stomach grew even more. But it disappeared when he felt your arms come around his neck, standing on your toes.

He pulls away, “Distracted now?”

“Very.” You mumble.

“Are you letting me stay the night or will we have to go to my place?”

“Are you sure you want to leave Peter in charge for any longer?”

Oh, shit. He forgot about him.

© 2023 Intoxicated-Chan, I do not allow my work to be copied, translated, modified, adapted, or put on any other platform without permission.

[marksbear2]

m!rreader giving deadpool the most devious backshots 😋

DEADPOOL X TOP MALE READER

Not a lot of talking, I’m still kinda bad at writing dialogue…and I also didn’t know how to end it. So imma end my own life instead

⚠️Warnings- Backshots, doggy style, cumshot, making a mess, teasing, a few swear words. Bottom Wade and etc⚠️

The room was full of heavy breathing and clothes getting pushed together creating a somewhat muffled noise.

Wade was holding onto the sheets with his gloved hands, as well breathing heavily in his mask. He had his face down as up. You were on top, mounting over him as you drive your cock deep inside him.

Wade’s legs was kicking and his shoes sometimes dragged onto the bed trying to stabilize himself. He was squirming and moaning.

Both of you were still fully clothed, but Wade pants and boxers were pulled down so you could fuck him.

The bed was moving as well, as the headboard hitting the wall.

Wade was making pathetic attempts to make jokes, it was usually incoherent, or just moaned mumbles, as well he couldn’t form words correctly but he still laughed at his own stupidity.

You pulled Wade’s hips up by your hands forcing him to keep his ass up. “Oh!~ holy shit.” Wade said in a gasp as his back arched from pleasure but as your cock driving deeper in his hole.

Wade legs continued to kick and squirm around slightly annoying you.

“Get on your fours.” You said pulling your cock out and waiting for him to do what he’s told. Wade looked over his shoulder and was about to make a joke but he saw the glare in your eye and he got on his fours.

He bit his lip feeling you enter his hole again. You slowly move your back inside, and gave him slaps on his ass. Once you thought that he adjusted to the new position and such you thrusted your full cock inside him causing Wade to gasp and instinctively try to back away from your cock.

But you pulled his hips back forcing him to take your cock.

Wade held the sheets panting as you thrusted inside of him drilling your cock inside of him. You used one of your hands to let go of his hip but to instead hold his masked face hooking his head up so you two can look at one another.

Wade nuzzled his face against your own teasing you with an masked kiss.

You pulled your hips back and forth as you used your other hand to start jerking off Wade’s cock. Wade began to tremble and shake even more in your hands as he simultaneously moved his hips up into your hand.

“Do you wanna cum? You want to cum so bad don’t you wade.” You said in a teasing and mocking tone as you stroked his cock faster while you thrusted.

Wade only nodded his head as his hands fumbled with the sheets trying to better his grip as he gasped and moaned.

It didn’t take Wade long at all before he shot his load. Wade’s cum landed on some of your fingers but also on the bed mostly.

You were still thrusting and stroking him while he was still cumming so he got pretty overwhelmed pretty quick and came for the 2nd time.

Wade was pushing himself down on your cock wanting you to get even deeper inside of him.

“Oooh!~ fuck. Give it to me harder! Give it to me, I want it…” Wade mumbled looking at you over his shoulder.

THE END

[rosenclaws]

Hi! 👋

I saw your requests were open and I was wondering if I could submit a request?

The reader is a shy artist who is a friend of Wades. She carries a sketchbook with her everywhere to sketch new pieces, but she doesn't show her work to people unless it's to Wade.

She and Worst!Logan become friends and slowly develop feelings for one another, but they won't say anything to each other because they think that the other wouldn't want them. Until Worst!Logan finds her sketchbook by accident and finds the book is filled with sketches of him. Worst!Logan confronts her about it, but she's a stuttering mess, and they end up confessing to each other. And please make it extra fluffy. Maybe throw in a kiss or a makeout session. Your choice lol.

Thank you and have a good day! 😊

Hidden Feelings and Hidden Sketches || Worst!Logan Howlett x Reader

warnings: drinking, swearing, wade making suggestive comments, make out sesh towards the end, reader gets drunk and logan helps her out. Logan also calls the reader sketch. It got kinda suggestive at the end I apologize sldfjka

a/n: Hi!! This idea is adorable omg I love it, I hope it was fluffy enough for you I have to admit I'm not great at writing pure fluff. I also hope wade is funny because I am not funny so its hard to write his dialogue sometimes. I also altered the plot a little so i hope its okay

You never quite understood how you and Wade became friends. He was possibly the biggest extrovert you have ever met and you were the exact opposite. He saw you once at his favorite diner with your sketchbook and he jumped into the seat across from you.

Yapping on about your art and if you drew often and that he once tried to paint but the class didn't appreciate his art and asking if you'd paint him naked as a present for his girlfriend. Which you declined very quickly.

He wouldn't leave you alone, talking and asking you all sorts of things. You getting a few words in and him covering the other 98% of the conversation. He left with the promise of seeing you again and disappeared before you could say anything else.

It was an odd experience that's for sure but you liked Wade. Sure enough he kept coming back and a friendship had blossomed. He invited you over to dinner multiple times but you always declined, choosing to meet at the diner instead.

Slowly he got you out of your shell around him. Cracking jokes and sometimes putting him in his place when he went a little too far. You showed him your sketchbook after a while and he gushed over your drawings. Begging you to draw him at his best angles and you would sometimes give in.

When he disappeared for a while you got worried, that is until he showed up with a new dog and a very handsome new friend. You couldn't take your eyes off of him. Wade spotted you and waved but you didn't even notice.

"I know right, he's like a tall glass of rage filled water." Wade sighs as he sits across from you.

"I uh what?" You hug your sketchbook close to your chest as you rip your eyes away from Wade's new friend.

"Oh don't pretend like you weren't eye fucking him the second he walked in here, not that I blame you." Your eyes widen as you start to stutter. Your face heating up as you stare at the pancakes in front of you instead. A loud grunt catches your attention. You can barely meet his eyes as your brain is too busy being embarrassed by what Wade had said.

"You can sit on my lap angel cakes." Wade pats his leg but gets shoved to the side as his new friend sits down across from you.

"Logan this is my friend, be a good kitty and play nice." Logan rolls his eyes and chooses to ignore Wade. He does look at you though, burning a whole through your skull.

"Hi Logan," You say shyly.

"Hi." A few beats of silence pass until Wade breaks it as usual.

"Well aren't you two the life of the party, if you excuse me I have to go relieve myself." Wade stands up and instead of asking Logan to move, starts to climb over the man.

"What the fuck?!" Logan hisses as he grabs Wades shirt and tosses him to the ground. You can't help the laugh that escapes your mouth as your friend flops to the ground.

"So rude." Wade shakes his head and heads off to the bathroom. Silence falls once again as you awkwardly push around the pancakes on your plate.

"What's that?" Logan asks, nodding towards your sketchbook. You grab your book and shove it into your bag.

"Nothing! It's uh, just a sketchbook it's nothing don't worry about it." Logan raises an eyebrow as you panic in front of him.

As if you couldn't feel more embarrassed. You debate on waiting for wade or just leaving to save yourself but Logan makes the choice for you.

"You don't have to stay, not holding you hostage." He sips his coffee as you let out a shaky laugh.

"Not much of a talker." You play with your fork as you look up at Logan. He's much more handsome up close.

"Neither am I." He offers a small half smile and you return it. He's still incredibly intimidating but maybe you can stick it out a little longer. Logan's food comes and the two of you eat in a comfortable silence and when you're done you work up the courage if he'll be here tomorrow. He holds the door open for you as you step outside.

You clutch tightly onto the strap of your bag as you wait for his answer. He lights a cigar and you try and suppress your smile when he says he will be. As you part ways you realize that Wade never did come back from the bathroom.

That sneaky bastard.

-on

The diner uh, meetings as you called them, with Logan were amazing. His grumpy exterior was hard to crack but eventually the two of you started to become friends. Being with Logan started to become your favorite parts of the week. He was more than the tough guy persona he put on. What surprised you the most is that he seemed interested in you too. Well you know as friends.

Logan could appreciate someone who liked the quiet. He never pushed you out of your comfort zone, never made you feel uncomfortable. He was just Logan. Call it what you want but it was only a matter of time before you fell head over heels for that man. Not that you'd ever tell him.

How could you?

He's a superhero. He's gorgeous and grumpy and funny and so much more. All you do is draw silly pictures. So for now you settle on friends. Even if he makes your stomach turn with ever smile. Even if his laugh is the best thing you've ever heard. Friends. That's good enough for now.

-

"Wade Wilson I am going to kill you!" You say angrily.

He had texted you asking you to meet him for coffee and you had agreed solely because you never got the chance to scold him for his little dine and dash.

"Leaving me alone with a stranger!" You slap his hand as he tries to reach for your pastry.

"Ow! That was so five months ago! Anyways I was just trying to help. You know, relieve the sexual tension." You gasp as he makes a very lewd gesture with his hands.

"Besides, you and Logi bear are spending a lot of time together for just being friends huh Boo-Boo." Before you can stop him he reaches for your sketchbook. Keeping it just out of reach as he flips through the pages.

"Give it back!" You plead as you reach across the table.

"Oh. My. God. How come you never draw me this sexy?" He shows you the pages and you fall back into your seat in defeat.

You know what's in there and now Wade does too. Pages and pages of sketches of Logan. You feel like a stalker. It's not your fault! Ever since you met him he's all you can think about. All you can draw.

"Please give it back." You beg but he refuses.

"You'll get it back after you admit to Logan how you feel."

"What!" Your jaw drops as you make another lunge for your book.

"I am a very impatient man and I'm not about to wait another thousand words for the two of you to fuck." He stands up and tucks the book down his pants.

"Ew really?" You groan as you let your face fall into your hands.

"I'm having a get together and you're invited. Logan will be there it's the perfect opportunity." You feel like throwing up at the idea of talking to Logan about any of this.

Maybe you could just steal it back tonight. Or maybe you could never show your face to anyone ever again. Yah the second option sounds better. If only it was that simple. You waited for many anxiety filled hours, the only thing on your mind is getting your damn book back. You knock on the door and it swings open with Wade standing there, a stupid smile on his face.

"Honey badger at 4 o'clock." He hands you a drink and pushes you right towards him. You shoo him away, taking a deep breath and head towards Logan.

"Hi Logan," You say nervously.

"Didn't think these were really your thing." He says with a smile. You laugh nervously and nod your head.

"Yeah well...I thought he'd finally stop asking if I came to one of these things." You joke. Logan snorts and offers you the seat next to him.

"Good luck with that." You sit next to him and swirl around the ice in your drink.

If you're going to tell him then you're going to need a lot of help. Logan's eyes widen as you down your drink in one go, making a face before asking for another one. He's never seen you at a party, let alone drink.

"Why don't you take it easy there sketch."

"It's a party right, why not have a little fun." Logan keeps an eye on you as you drink and drink. As the night passes on he realizes that you might have had a little too much. You can barely get a sentence out by the time the party's over.

"Hi Logii!" Your arms slink around his neck as you stumble into him.

"Come on, let me take you home." He chuckles as he helps you to the door.

"Nooo, I needa get my uh..." You stop and think for a moment.

"My uhhh" Logan hums as he helps you to your apartment. You stay close to Logan as you walk through the night. He's just so warm and he smells so good.

"Got your keys?" You pat around for them and frown. Logan reaches into your bag and pulls them out.

"Right here." He unlocks your door and helps you to your bed. You sigh as your head hits your pillow.

"Oh! my sketchbook. Wade has my sketchbook." You say with a yawn.

"I'll get it back tomorrow, now sleep well." Logan takes off his jacket and lays it on you. He brushes your cheek gently. A soft smile on his face as he leaves you to sleep peacefully.

"Good night."

-

God your head hurt and the sun was way too bright. You crack your eyes open groan as you head pounds. What were you even thinking last night? You wanted your damn book back that's what you were thinking. A loud knock on your door makes you moan in pain. Getting up you swing open your door only to be met with Logan holding your book. Your face pales as you see a smirk on his face.

"Wade gave me back your book." You reach out for it but he holds it back.

"You're a real good artist sketch." To your horror he opens up your book and flips to one of its pages.

Right in front of you was a side profile sketch of Logan. It had been while you were at the park or something. The sun was hitting him perfectly, he had this content look on his face. You couldn't help but draw it when you got back home. To capture him in a moment where everything felt okay.

"I uh..I.." You don't know what to say. He caught you red handed. Your face is on fire from shame and embarrassment as he finally hands over your book. You can't even look at him.

"I'm sorry." You whisper. Shutting your eyes you hope he gets the hint and leaves, leaves you to wallow in pity.

"Sorry? Why are you sorry." He grabs your chin and tilts your head up.

"I'm flattered sketch. I think you really captured me pretty good." You still can't bring yourself to say anything as you hug your book tightly. You can't tell if he's making fun of you or what.

"This isn't funny Logan." You try and push his hand off you but his grip is strong.

"Not trying to be funny." He brushes his thumb over your lips.

"Logan..." Your eyes flick down to his lips and you know he catches you.

"Say it, come on don't be shy. Not with me." Sighing you dig your fingernails into your book.

"I love you." Your voice is barely above a whisper, eyes squeezing shut. You almost hope he doesn't hear it but of course he does.

He presses his lips to yours roughly. You drop your book in shock as you melt deep into his kiss. Wasting no time in kissing him back, hands wrapping around his neck to pull him closer. He deepens the kiss as his hands fall to your sides. You pull away much to his disappointment, his lips chasing after yours for a moment.

"I love you too." He kisses your jaw lightly making you sigh.

"You know, those drawings were good but I think you got my lips wrong." You furrow you eyebrows, you thought you got his lips pretty good. After all you stared at them long enough to memorize them.

"Yeah sweetheart, think you need a lesson." He walks you back until you hit your couch.

"Get up close and personal." He winks as you bite your lip. How flustered can he make you?

"Then maybe you can show me more of those drawings."

Well, If it would help make your drawings more, accurate. Then who are you to say no?

"Okay." You run your hands along his arm as you look back up at him. Nerves and excitement swirling around your eyes.

"Don't worry sketch, I'm a pretty good teacher."

[moonydustx]

giving them a hickey headcanon (Law,Zoro,Luffy and Mihawk)

Hi Hi! All good? I'll start with a small warning: I know it should have been hc but I think I got mixed up in the format (each story actually came out differently). And each one looked a little NSFW, but I swear there's nothing explicit or very detailed. I hope you enjoy!

Some came out with more dialogue, others with much less. Yeah, I really got lost in the format.

requests here | rules and guides | masterlist

Luffy

warnings: Luffy isn't so innocent in this one. Pre-established relationship. Amor is the equivalent of love in Portuguese-BR.

Not that Luffy was innocent, but he had never paid attention to the fact that hickeys existed and how carnal they could be. And regarding your relationship, things used to be lighter and calmer between the two of you.

The first time he saw it wasn't in you. He was walking around the Sunny's deck and saw Zoro sleeping, as usual. He approached slowly and saw the stain on his neck.

"Who did you fight with that hurt you like that?"

"Don't bother me Luffy." Zoro grumbled, pushing the captain away with his hand.

"Did Zoro get hurt?" Usopp leaned into Luffy's side, as did Chopper. "That's not a bruise."

"It's a bruise, but it's light." Chopper concluded.

"You idiots, have you never seen a hickey in your life?" Nami grumbled.

"I already knew! The great captain Usopp already won one..."

"A hickey?" Luffy asked himself more than the others.

The matter remained forgotten in his mind, until you appeared in front of him later that day. The sun was already setting when you found him sitting on top of the Sunny's bow. With little effort and using his help and elasticity, you soon found yourself sitting between your boyfriend's legs, both of you facing the sea in front of you.

"Amor?" his voice pulled you out of the comfortable silence between you.

"Yes Lu?"

"Can you give me a hickey?" he asked, forcing you to turn over your shoulder and face him. "I don't think you've ever given me a hickey."

“That’s not exactly how it works, but…” you let the words trail off in the air.

Your lips placed a small kiss on his cheek, then on his jaw and finally, a chaste kiss just below his ear. At the same point, you placed another wet kiss and finally gave a strong hickey. As soon as the pressure on your lips was released, you placed another quick kiss.

"Well, you're made of rubber, I don't think you'll get marked." You explained and snuggled back against his chest.

"But it felt good." you felt his hand fix your hair and create a space for him on the back of your neck.

Soon after, one of his hands slid down your thigh while his lips repeated almost the same path you had taken and unlike him, you were sure it would be at least painful to the touch, let alone marked.

"Did you like it?" he asked, still leaning against your shoulder.

"Yes." your slightly shaky voice said more than he could ask. It was supposed to be a simple hickey, but Luffy knew how to mess with you.

"Can I have another one?"

"Later, when everyone is asleep."

That meant that in some hidden corner of the ship, you took part of the night to explore each other. It also meant that the next morning, you had hickeys all over your body.

--

Law

warnings: pre-established relationship, jealous Law in this one.

He truly believes in that thesis that a strong hickey in the wrong place can be the cause of death, so he will always use small bites, the kind that only serve to make every part of your body shiver - and generate some other reactions too. Except when someone makes him jealous.

Don't misunderstand, Law is a reserved guy, not very interested in public displays of affection, but when you are alone, he is a clingy and extremely affectionate person - after time and time of you trying to win him over to transform the relationship into something more.

He had already shared the fighting field with Kid, victory with Kid, he would never share you, but the pirate seemed insistent on discussing things with you and your laughter echoed anything Kid said. Law already saw red at that moment.

After that, you ended the night in the arms of a version of Law that wasn't so common: jealous, unstoppable and delicious. You were just supposed to take some time and talk in his room. You ended up with all the things from the table on the floor, your panties lost - and probably torn, a trail of hickeys going down to your breasts.

"Trafalgar D. Law..." your voice came out like a scolding as you looked at yourself in the mirror already in his room. "What is that?"

"Just a few marks." he hugged you from behind, kissing one of the purple spots. "Sorry babe, I think I got carried away."

"Don't apologize, other than that, your jealous version brings good results."

"I hope that doesn't mean you're going to let that idiot bother you." he grumbled, placing another kiss on one of the hickeys. "Stay here, I'll get some ointment to ease this."

As soon as he returned, he carefully applied the medicine to each point you pointed out, but with a cynical smile on his lips. He knew the hickeys wouldn't go away fast enough until his next date that day with Kid.

Zoro

warnings: pre-established relationship, some broader mentions of NSFW content, but nothing explicit. Two uncontrollable drunks.

He liked to see the effect he had on you, whether it was the slurred speech when he pinned you against the wall, trying not to get lost between the way he looked at you and the proximity of the two of you, or you getting up with the wobbly legs of his bed and spending the next few hours grumbling about being sore - and you always whispered to him that that wasn't a complaint or when he saw you wearing scarves on hot days, or some accessory that disguised the mark on your skin.

Despite this, he didn't like it or used to leave marks on purpose. Even though he enjoyed seeing his love for you embedded in your skin, he knew that hickeys would only attract more questions about what that was, who did that and lots of jokes about the two of you.

However, on the nights lost between shots of sake, hidden in a dark corner and with the two of you numb from the alcohol in your blood, Zoro didn't worry about it. Or with almost nothing.

"Zo, control yourself, this is going to be marked." you lost it in a moan when you felt him capture your skin between his lips.

"Don't tell me you don't like it." he whispered, his lips running down your neck and leaving another mark. "You're mine, aren't you? Let me make that clear to everyone."

The next morning, in addition to the hangover that took over you, you could see the hickeys on your skin. However, this time, you could see the same hickeys in Zoro's.

Mihawk

warnings: brief mentions of NSFW here, this time F!Reader is the "jealous" one in the relationship. In my hc, Mihawk continues to speak Spanish/being Latino.

He could see your sullen face from meters away and couldn't contain a brief laugh. He knew you hated it when he had to be away to take care of his responsibilities as a shichibukai, but it was a necessary. Knowing it was just a small tantrum from you, he approached slowly, stopping at the edge of the bed and looking at you.

"Still mad that I have to go?"

"Of course! You barely stayed home for two weeks before you had to leave again. They really can't pick another guy?" you grumbled, seeing him shake his head. "I'm sorry I seem frustrated about this."

"Please don't apologize for this." he asked, seeing you drop your sullen expression and crawl over the bed, to where he was standing. "However, it seems my dear wife has some plan."

"Is that pretty girl going to be there?" you asked referring to Boa Hancock and he nodded. "I know there's nothing to be jealous of, but lately you've been spending more time with her than with me."

"And you're right not to be jealous." As soon as you knelt in front of him, your arms hung on his shoulder, sliding through the lined fabric of his white shirt. "No other woman interests me other than you, cariña."

"I know, like I said, I'm just letting my frustrations get louder." your lips began to distribute kisses along his jaw, going down to the back of his neck with white skin. Almost automatically, you sucked, seeing a small hickey appear. "I'm sorry." You pulled away, a cynical smile on your lips.

"If you plan to leave me marked with your love..."

Mihawk began to slowly unbutton his shirt, knowing how much it would excite you. Your hands soon helped him finish the job and your nails slid down his defined abdomen, stopping near the waistband of his pants.

"Make a mess, leave your hickeys on me and I will use them as a reminder of the incredible woman waiting for me at home." He bent down, finding the sensitive spot on your neck and placing a kiss. Soon, his mouth stopped immediately next to your ear, whispering in an almost tasteful way. "And when I come back, it will be my turn to mark you."

--

a/n: that's it, now my mind will be stuck on Mihawk walking around with his clothes open and hitting everyone's vision with scratches and hickeys.

[scealaiscoite]

halloween prompts ˗ˏˋ ꒰ 🎃 ꒱

-ˏˋ. dialogue ˊˎ-

⋆ "what do you mean you've never gone trick-or-treating?!"

⋆ "i really appreciate that you're getting into the halloween spirit, but it's ten in the morning. please turn off the slasher films so i can eat my breakfast in peace."

⋆ "ah, you've made the mistake in thinking that just because this is a couples/family costume that you get any kind of say in it. you don't, actually."

⋆ "i love you, i swear i do, but we're not wearing matching costumes."

⋆ "do you remember what happened the last time you tried to carve a pumpkin?! we'll get laughed out of a&e if i have to haul you down there over this again."

⋆ "you're like the toughest person i know! am i really supposed to believe that a horror film is enough to have you cowering into my lap?"

⋆ "stop squirming, you're gonna mess up your face paint!"

⋆ "not to rain on your parade or anything, but since when are gingerbread haunted houses a thing?"

⋆ "please, i'm begging you. don't make me watch the nightmare before christmas again."

⋆ "should i be worried that you know how to replicate fake blood this well? i probably should be, right?"

⋆ "come on, if there was ever a time for me to be superstitious it's definitely now."

-ˏˋ. actions / scenarios ˊˎ-

⋆ carving pumpkins together

⋆ having a scary movie marathon

⋆ going to questionable lengths to decorate their house/apartment

⋆ passing out candy to trick-or-treaters

⋆ throwing a halloween party

⋆ going to a carnival / fair

⋆ comforting the scaredy cat amongst them

⋆ putting an inordinate amount of effort into planning their costume

⋆ going to a pumpkin patch

⋆ laying wide awake at night after watching a horror movie that left them unnerved

[ssa-dado]

0 - Symposium, definitely not Platonic love.

Aaron Hotchner x bau!reader (I hope I tagged it correctly woops)

No use of Y/N!

Summary: Hotch, after seeing you reading a book on the jet, picks it up out of curiosity. Late-night texts with you evolve from work to teasing philosophical banter about love, deepening your connection. Through this dialogue, Hotch reflects on both philosophy and his feelings for you, as the conversation subtly flirts with deeper emotions.

Genre: fluff, sapiosexual fluff.

Warnings: Implied alcohol consumption ; Reader and Hotch being completely blind yet marvellously insightful ; Philosophical discussions, I tried my best to make them as user friendly as possible ; Sir kink if you squint, although it's not intended in that way at all ; The story is set around season 3/4 before the team found out about Strauss' drinking problem, I feel so bad anyways.

Word Count: 2.9k

Dado's Corner: be kind this is my first ever Hotch fic and overall first fic I've written in English (yes, I indeed am a real Italian stallion) so there might be some mistakes, bear with me.

next part - set when they first ever met.

Hotch sits on the couch, the soft glow of the lamp casting shadows across his living room, the house is so quiet, he briefly interrupts his late night reading session as he swears he can almost hear Jack’s light breathing from across the house. Those sweet thoughts, mixed up with the muffled night traffic almost lullabies him to sleep while the weight of another long week at the BAU settles into his bones.

His eyes immediately gaze down to his hands, firming holding opened the slim book: Symposium by Plato—a book he wouldn’t normally pick up on his own. The corners of his mouth quickly turn up as he recalls how he’d seen you reading it on the jet a few cases ago, sitting cozily and crossing your legs alone in a seat in front of him, strategically shielded from the table seats occupied by playing the rest of the team, including himself, busingly playing cards.

Every now and then his gaze automatically lingered on your stillness, the only movements coming from the swift air you moved while turning the page or adjusting your pose to be more comfortable, this sight intoxicated him. Your focus was so intense you didn’t even flinch at Derek standing up from his seat and leaning forward, while his hands gravitated towards the doctor’s bare neck after the latter just killed him off the game because oblivious of yet another variation they all added so it would make it easier to beat Reid. An attempt that ended tragically.

In that abrupt mess - from JJ laughing at the ironic hilarity to Reid using the highest-pitched voice his vocal chords could ever produce to defend himself from Derek's accusation of cheating - Hotch only remembers how your statuesque figure slowly had revived itself again as you glanced up to make sure no harm was done to the doctor. You made eye contact with Hotch and and you immersed yourself back to the slim book as soon the Unit Chief signed you not to worry and that he would tackle the situation himself. In a matter of fractions of seconds all your surroundings had disappeared again.

As soon as the Unit Chief was back into his office, curiously reminiscing about your hypnotic serenity, he’d ordered a copy.

Now, as in the comfort of his living room slowly turns the pages, his phone vibrates with a message from you awakening him from his trance, immediately wonders why you would message him so late at night.

“Hotch, quick question: about the profile for the Winger case—should we revise the victimology section?"

…Of course, he almost started to hate how his role as Unit Chief always seemed to ruin his brief-lasting delusions.

He robotically types a response, a straightforward answer to your work-related question but as he presses send, his gaze lingers on the book in his hands. There’s somehow a temptation on his side to share the weird coincidence, to see how you might react.

"Good catch. I’ll review it tomorrow.” He writes.

“Wow that was quick, I didn’t expect you to still be up, did I interrupt your late night reading session?”

He quicky blushes, how could you know him so well?!

“You did. Don’t worry about it. By the way, I’m reading Symposium tonight." He blurts out

There’s a pause, and he can visualize your surprised reaction, how the sight of your smile would always warm his heart; almost immediately, his phone buzzes again.

"Wait, really, Symposium?!”

A small smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. He wouldn’t smile so much if you were standing in front of him, thankfully, the shield of communicating through texts allowed him to put down his.

You continue. “Not to raise your expectations too much, but that’s my all-time favorite book, just so you know!"

He swears he can hear the intonation of your voice reading that text, visualizing how you would face your palms towards him and raise your shoulders, trying to keep that non-chalant expression of yours and not perk a soft smile to him.

Entitled by that fateful coincidence, Hotch feels brave enough to decide to tease you - just a little - hoping the text doesn't sound that much so out of character for him as much as it does in his head, although he shrugs, sending it before he starts overthinking it.

“Your all-time favorite? A book about love? I should’ve known."

He pauses, imagining you raising an eyebrow, maybe with that knowing smile you wear when he’s teasing you. And even though he’s playing it off as a joke, part of him can completely see how you, could actually have a natural flare for romance - even if you never openly admit it and always tried the best you could to suppress that side of yours.

He decides to blame it on the years spent at the BAU when it was just the two of you along with Rossi and Gideon; At how you were recruited as soon as you turned 21, while the youngest person you worked with on the team and could relate to the most was Hotch himself, even if he was late in his Jesus year.

He quickly remembers how you would always overwork yourself - you both still do nowadays, that's why you're having a conversation at past 2 AM - He could see how you were always trying to prove your worth more to yourself rather than to your co-workers or even to the sketchy police officers and detectives somehow still stuck in the 1400s.

He had always admired you for your intelligence and acute instincts, and so does your nowadays team, immediately entrusting you with the nickname of "Prehistoric Reid" only because because you had started working at the BAU back when they still didn't provide the jet so you all had to move using the trains. Even if you already have 9 years of experience in the field, yet you were the 2nd youngest - still no eidetic memory though - this desire to always prove yourself never fully went away. One day you were the youngest, the other they assume someone way more genius than you were so you can't stand out anymore for merely for your intelligence.

You finally respond: "Well, it’s more than just a book about love. It’s actually quite of a concrete example of Plato’s take on philosophy - the whole thing told through dialogues, like a discussion among friends. But I won’t bore you with all the technicalities"

Hotch chuckles softly, picturing you downplaying your passion, trying not to sound too academic. What you don’t know is that he could listen to you talk about philosophy for hours - especially tonight, about philosophy’s take on love, no less. He doesn’t dares to say that, though.

"I wouldn’t say you’re boring me. In fact, I’m starting to see the appeal. But really, all-time favorite?"

He leans back into the couch, waiting for your reply.

You told him back when you first met that your first ever degree was in philosophy, and now recalling that specific information he's been wondering why exactly a barely-reaching-100-pages-long book holds such a special place for you, out of all the others he’s seen you passionately read during the years. A part of him is genuinely curious, the other part is trying to stretch as much as possible this conversation with you.

"Absolutely. I mean, think about it: a bunch of people crashing at their friend's house, sitting around, getting drunk, each giving their take on love while they feast at a banquet." You continued. "It’s almost like when we’re at Rossi’s, except instead of love, we’re all talking about criminology and cases while stuffing ourselves with his Italo-American dishes".

An image of Rossi pouring wine wearing an ancient greek costume - fake long white beard included - while everyone at the table delves into some intricate discussion about a case flashes through his mind, Hotch immediately chuckles at the comparison. He's sure you've imagined the exact thing too and he can almost hear you suggest hosting a real Symposium next time, his profiling skills never fail him as soon his phone buzzes again.

"Imagine if we recreated the Symposium at Rossi’s. Each of us giving our take on love. I can almost hear Reid's speech delving into the psychology of affection and its variations throughout the various cultures"

Quick on his chubby fingers, after laughing at the scenario, he types the continuation "In stark opposite, Garcia would follow him and pull out her tarot cards and read each of our birth charts, telling us who we're most compatible with based on our stars alignements"

While waiting for you, he stands up and makes his way towards his home bar, reaching for the scotch bottle, swiftly filling up his glass, silently blessing Plato for making this the longest light-hearted conversation you haven’t had in years. You were both either too focused on your work or actively suppressing your romantic feelings and ignoring each other. After all this time he would almost forget how the two of you were first and foremost very good friends. As the liquid burns the back of his throat, his phone buzzes again.

"That's actually really fascinating yet so intimidating, what about Rossi though? Of course he's hosting all of us but I feel he would totally blurt out some old-scool stuff he only understands. I know I'm not the only one who doesn't get his references, but I really feel bad whenever I don't."

He almost chokes himself after your other reply

"So, big boss, have I convinced you with giving us the free week-end or should I extend the invite our lovely friend Strauss? I fear that after a few glasses of Rossi’s wine all that angst towards you might turn into some ol' sweet love. I would watch out if I were you, Unit Chief"

You loved poking fun at him using his rank; It all started a few years ago to jokingly shrug away the awkwardness caused from how the co-worker you always used to joke around, spend the nights together in the same room, sharing your theories about the unsub and building up the profile with suddenly turned into your superior. As much as you both didn't want to admit it, something in your relationship had shifted since this happened, not to mention to the fact that it's much more awkward to admit to your boss you've been having a crush on your him for almost 9 years rather than to your co-worker.

Now Hotch, encouraged by the slight booze, further teases you "And what do you think my take on love would be?"

This was the closest he could ever come to flirting with you, walking on that fine line and never pushing himself further. For Hotch, the gesture of basically asking you to profile him in a moment in which he was so vulnerable, breaking his golden rule of "never profile your coworkers" was the most romantic declaration of love he could ever think that of.

Your text brings him back down to Earth:

"Hmm, I imagine you’d give a thoughtful, analytical speech something with a lot of depth but surprisingly subtly humorous. You would wait for everyone to finish their own speech so you would be last, acknowledging all of us completely busted, only because you have self-control."

You feel the need to add something else, even if you know already he would read into it, at the way how you reserved a mere sentence to describe that scenario involving your teammates. On the contrary, you could write a whole book about him and all his hypothetical remarks, meticulously poiting out every small gesture or expression - or the lack of - of him. Since truth lies in the middle, you decide to dedicate him only another lengthy paragraph.

"You would start with something along the lines of ‘Love is a complex system of emotional responses influenced by myriad factors…’ as if you were delivering a profile, definitely using that same tone as well. You’d probably have us all analyzing every possible nuance and you enjoy watching us slobber, trying to quickly sober up to keep up with your impeccable remarks. Of course we would miserably fail at being analytical whatsoever, but you love whenever we make a fool out of ourselves."

He chuckles "You do know me too well"

He probably hints at the possibilty of having a weekend off with his next text "And since now you're making me think I might have to start prepare my speech about love, it wouldn't hurt to also include a few practical applications for the BAU team’s dynamics."

Ha. You wish he showed you what those practical applications consisted of. Hotch although interrupts even the possibility of recycling this genius quick witted remark with him, making sure to replace yourself with his archenemy section chief Erin Strauss, to not weird him out.

"Jokes apart, your take on love would be fascinating, I'm looking forward to hear it", he says.

"Only if you’re ready for philosophical debates after a few glasses of wine. Though, I’ll warn you - I take my Plato very seriously."

Hotch smiles at that, apparently he took his Plato quite seriously as well. What you're not aware at all is that the late-night session of Symposium you had interrupted wasn't his first.

"I’ll keep that in mind. But honestly, I’ve been finding parts of it… enlightening."

He had actually finished it for the first time less than a hour before you texted. What you actually interrupted was Hotch helplessly going back through certain passages that reminded him of you. He hypothesises your take on the subject of love, trying to gauge how you view it without revealing feelings he’s kept carefully hidden for a long time.

"Enlightening, huh? So you’ve gotten to the part where Socrates explains how love makes us better people?"

Hotch remembers that part well enough, but he hasn’t revealed just how deeply he’s been thinking about it - how, in his own quiet way, he’s been trying to connect those ideas to his life, and to you, so he chooses his next words carefully.

“Not yet." He lies, knowing that the part you appointed to would only come much later in the book "But I’m guessing you’ve got some thoughts on that?"

He imagines you smiling on the other end, maybe a little amused at how he’s obviously deflecting, although you don’t press him, but your next reply doesn't lack a subtle challenge.

"I do. But I think you'd find it pretty relevant, Hotch. Phaedrus talks about how lovers fight better together - how love gives them courage."

He quickly smirks and reminds himself how much he loves when you put him in the corner with the choice of your words, there was no way he could deflect that, since Phaedrus’s speech comes first, he couldn't say he hadn't read that yet.

Hotch's eyes flicker toward the book again, remembering Phaedrus’s discourse: the idea that love could make people fight harder, be stronger… it strikes a chord, reminding him of the strength he’s seen in you, in the unique way you both handle the intense challenges of your work when paired up together. He types, his words more deliberate now.

"Phaedrus might be onto something. Love as a motivator, as a way to push people to be better. What about you? Do you see it that way?"

There’s a slight pause before your next message, and he can almost sense your careful consideration, you’ve never been one to answer these kinds of questions lightly.

"Yeah, I think so. I mean, love isn’t just about being close to someone, it’s about making each other better, pushing each other forward. But that is not easy at all. It takes patience, discipline… and maybe a bit of faith."

Hotch’s expression softens as he reads your words. He admires your thoughtfulness, your ability to cut straight to the heart of something that most people shy away from. He finds himself thinking about how true those words are, how they seem to apply not only to love, but to the way both of you approach life and work. He types slowly, his words carefully chosen.

"Patience, discipline, and faith. Sounds a lot like what we do every day, maybe we’re already living it."

As he sends the message, he sets the phone down beside him and glances at the book again. He’s aware of the irony - that for all the deflecting, all the jokes, he’s learning more about you through this conversation than he would have if he had simply asked.

The words of Plato, the discussions on love, seem to take on a new meaning - one that feels personal, one that makes him wonder if he’s been missing something between the lines all along.

"You know, this conversation feels a bit like Socratic dialogue. Just without the wine. Maybe I’m learning about love through you and Plato’s dialogues in a way Socrates might’ve appreciated."

He sends the message, a small smirk on his face. He knows how much you would appreciate the unexpected extra philosophical remark about Socrates even if he knows little to nothing about him apart from that his idea of love in Plato's book. To impress you he totally forgets how only just a few moments before he stated he hasn’t read his discourse yet. A few moments later, your reply comes through.

“No way! Aaron Hotchner now delves into the Socratic dialectics?!"

Now you smell the lie so to make sure you trick him with the next text "Well, maybe you should read something by Socrates next, he was quite the conversationalist, you would rely a lot to him, especially after all of this philosophical banter"

"Any recommendations?" He naively takes the bait

"That’s the thing, Unit Chief - Socrates didn’t write anything. He relied on his students to record his thoughts. It’s all oral and dialectical. The dialogues are his legacy, not written works, maybe that’s why it’s such a rich experience—like having an ongoing conversation with someone through the ages."

Hotch leans back, wishing these moments would linger forever, hoping the words you exchanged could be eternal just like those exchanged by the men he was reading about, now printed with black ink on the paper resting in his hands. He's surprised he doesn’t feel the tiredness of the week anymore or neither the need to sleep. Damn, he has so much energy he's sure he could run a whole marathon, but only if you’re out there watching him.

"Well, if our conversations end up like Plato’s dialogues, I think I’m in for a rewarding challenge. Just don’t make me drink too much wine before our next discussion."

"Unit Chief I thought you had self-control and didn't need to be babied like us mortals"

His phone buzzes with another message from you.

“Sorry if I ask, I’m curious - what got you interested in Symposium all of a sudden? I didn’t think philosophy was your usual reading material."

Hotch takes a moment to think, considering how to respond without revealing too much.

"You know, it’s funny. I saw you reading it a while back and it piqued my interest. I guess I wanted to see what you found so engaging about it. And honestly, I’m finding it pretty compelling - there’s a lot more depth to it than I expected."

His cheeks turn into a light shade of pink at your last response. "Unit Chief, do you believe you might need some professional insights on that speech you needed so urgently to write?"

"I definitely might need a hand - if I'm not wrong you do have a philosophy degree, don't you?"

Symposium might just become Aaron Hotchner's all-time-favourite book as well, after all.

[aethelwyneleigh27]

Toothache

How does one go "You're Too Sweet For Me" to "My Baby's Sweet As Can Be"?

Synopsis: Simon Riley finds himself stuck in a situation, growing feelings for his roommate who's so annoyingly caring, domestic, sweet and too good for him. What happens when he let's himself indulge in the sweetness rather than cage himself in the bitter life he's been told is the only one he's deserving of and the only life he's known?

Apologies to this mess of a lyricfic, I couldn't help it even though this was supposed to be a relationship analysis..

MEN WRITTEN BY ANA HUANG ARE GONNA BE THE DEATH OF ME. Alright back to our original programmed schedule with Hozier. ALSO SURPRISE! THIS CONTAINS 3 HOZIER SONGS as an apology for not posting these past two weeks due to me enjoying holidays, reading, prom dress picking and wanting to stab myself because of life, there's the added bonus 👀

My CoD Masterlist

My Simon Riley x You Playlist

Also reader in this one had a lot of characterization, she's me fr, so AFAB?Reader, Fem!Reader, Short!Reader, Reader is VERY feminine with fashion, soft-girl-sunshine!Reader and Chubby?Reader. Y'all have no idea how hard it is to write without a personality and physical intimacy in romance, I tried but failed 😭

Warnings and Disclaimers: Mentions and details on sexual content ahead (is this considered smut? Idk anymore). Not detailed smut but vivid memories of sexual intercourse (especially the dialogue) with Simon. Again, this is a safe account for all ages because I'm not a MDNI acc, you are responsible for your own media consumption. DO NOT GO ON MY DMS, INBOX OR REPLY TO MY CONTENT TO TELL ME YOUR AGE. I don't need to know that and let's strive to not make each other uncomfortable. Mentions of questioning of religion or rather belief on afterlife??

Pink, bold and italic: Lyrics

Italic: recalling past events

Little snippet of an image of how I imagined he'd hold you, courtesy of the one and only @ave661

"It can't be said I'm an early bird, it's 10 o'clock before I say a word. Baby, I can never tell, how do you sleep so well?"

Simon Riley was never a man to live the life he was taught to in the military, it was out of habit for him to not leave his room until around noon. Then there was you, his roommate, he didn't exactly calculate how much it would affect his personal life to save money through rent by willingly letting someone within the same living space.

He'd find himself with not even a wink of sleep, hearing your footsteps through the thin walls, hearing the lock on the windows outside click open.

"You kept telling me to live right, to go to bed before the daylight. But then you wake up from the sunrise."

He'd always hear you, quite frankly it was like nagging on the constant.

"Simon you shouldn't do that, you'll hurt yourself"

"Simon please go get some rest"

"Simon.."

He'd swear he'd rip his own ears out every time his name falls from your lips from how sweet and chirpy it sounded and yet deafening silence would consume him whenever you aren't around.

"You don't gotta pretended, Baby, now and then. Don't you just wanna wake up dark as a lake? Smellin' lika bonfire, lost in the haze?"

Something about you makes it so tempting for Simon to give in, I mean it would be a one time thing, wouldn't it? So soft, so pliant, he set himself up for an addiction. It wasn't healthy, he knew this, he'd convince himself of the fact that he would end up hurting you.

Just too different, it repeated like a mantra in his head. He was bitter, brooding and didn't find any sense of pleasure in living. Why'd you think he has the job he chose? It's all he knew, till you skip your way into his life, giving him the sweetness he was deprived of.

"If you're drunk on life babe, I think it's great. But while in this world, I think I'll take my whiskey neat"

Drowning himself in alcohol, a trait Simon promised himself he wouldn't ever do when he was young, setting his glass down with a small thud from the wooden table. But what would the kid version of him know about life. He didn't have healthier options of coping with what seems to be his dilemma.

But then there you were, sweet little thing coming home at the late hour in that skimpy dress of yours. Revealing too much to the eyes of those who wish to have you for themselves with just one look. Where did you go that night?

"My coffee black in my bed at three, you're too sweet for me"

Desperately trying to keep himself awake and at bay from his thoughts of you. Drowning himself in now two cups of straight black coffee to help him focus.

It was odd, you got used to the scent, was strong with a lack of sweetness but it calmed you down knowing he was around.

How he'd corrupt you, he wanted to shatter that rose tinted glasses of yours to save you from himself because being with him would change you. Selfish but he doesn't want that, you were utter perfection..

Simon further delved into his feelings, what the fuck was wrong with him?

"I aim low. I aim true, and the ground's where I go. I work late where I'm free from the phone and the job gets done"

Grumbling, Simon walks back into the apartment in the middle of the night. You heard a thud, you come out of your bedroom, yawing from you incomplete sleep.

"Si..? Are you hurt? What happened?" You asked in a soft tone, careful not to agitate someone would could possibly be pissed off.

Simon stays silent, glaring at you as his eyes was only thing visible because of his balaclava. Your soft gaze intimidated him, because why would he feel that squeeze in his heart?

"But you worry some, I know but who wants to live forever, babe? You treat your mouth as if it's Heaven's gate. The rest of you like you're the TSA, I wish I could go along Babe, don't get me wrong..."

The only thing Simon heard was a sigh from you and nothing more, you walk up to him, each footstep feeling louder than that last.

Something Simon didn't expect you to do was wrap you arms around his waist, tiny thing you are that your head only goes up to his chest. Your body against his, basking in the warmth in contrast to the cold weather he had to deal with coming home.

"You know you're bright as the morning, as soft as the rain, pretty as a vine, as sweet as a grape. If you can sit in a barrel maybe I'll wait, until that day.."

You took care of him that night, to his reluctance and stubbornness. Despite refusing, he had no choice, he wouldn't want a soft thing like you on his ear the whole night till he agrees. You were persuasive in your own irritating way.

Sitting on the edge of the tub of the warm bath he's in, washcloth in hand. Touch was so gentle, why was it so soft? Why's it so warm? "It's the water you fucking idiot" his subconscious screaming at him. In denial.

Why is his heart beating so fast..? He wants to stab it to stop the feeling..

"I'd rather take my whiskey neat, my coffee black and my bed at three. You're too sweet for me"

Using both your hands this time around, one gently holding his chin with your fingers while the other wiping away at the eyeblack he had. Every scar on his face felt the graze of your finger.

The slow blinks, your eyes on his. Before any conscious thoughts consume Simon, he lifts his arms from the warm water and wraps them around you.

Your nightgown was now damp but you couldn't care less, now with the man you were pinning over, foreheads against the other.

"Si.." you softly whisper. That nickname will be the death of him, you'll be the death of him. He crashes his lips on yours, not wanting to let go till you both were panting. You were too fucking sweet, your lips, your skin, everything. He wanted a taste and he got it...

"My lover's got humor, she's the giggle at a funeral. Knows everybody's disapproval, I should've worshiped her sooner"

Another sleepless night wasn't uncommon for someone like Simon.. however this aching feeling wasn't, he doesn't know where it's from or what it's about. Not until he heard you in the kitchen, letting out a giggle even though you knew better.

"If the Heavens ever did speak, She's the last true mouthpiece. Every Sunday's getting more bleak. A fresh poison each week "We were born sick"

That sweet fucking voice, like the angels speaking to him themselves. "Oh- I'm sorry Si, did I wake you up?" You asked, turning around to the sound of his footsteps.

That tiny nightdress of yours, a reminder of the night you spent together, that morning you slept in his bed.

Lashes beautifully displayed on the delicate skin of your under eyes. Soft noises while your chest was peacefully moving up and down with every breath.

"She tells me, "Worship in the bedroom". The only Heaven I'll be sent to, is when I'm alone with you I was born sick, but I love it Command me to be well. A, Amen, Amen, Amen"

"Simon.. Ahh~" you moan out softly, your body writhing underneath him. It felt hot, sweaty despite the well ventilated room, so intimate from something that was supposed to be the farthest thing from domestic.

"Shhh, you can take it sunshine.. You don't want the neighbors to hear us, do you?" Simon whispers, callous hand covering your mouth with as little pressure possible, you whimper at his words.

Closing your eyes to lose yourself in the pleasure you've never felt before. Your body being worshiped with gentle hands and soft kisses that leave marks by the very same man who kept distancing himself from you, now he'd stop at nothing for your pleasure.

"Take me to church, I'll worship like a dog at the shrine of your lies. I'll tell you my sins and you can sharpen your knife, offer me that deathless death. Good God, let me give you my life."

"Simon.. no more–" you whined. Scratching his back hard enough to leave marks without being aware, he'd always imagine what those pretty pink nails could do to him.

"Just one more, please sunshine.. you remember our safe word right?" Simon asks for you to nod softly, you didn't have energy to take anymore. "I told you I'll make you feel good, didn't I? So be a good girl for me and take it, hmm?"

Your eyes roll back at his praise, your legs shake with one after another wave of pleasure running through your body. This man was starved.. insatiable.. who would be able to resist such a request? Not you.

"If I'm a pagan of the good times, my lover's the sunlight to keep the Goddess on my side. She demands a sacrifice, drain the whole sea, get something shiny"

It took everything in Simon not to worship the ground you walked on that night, he wasn't trying very hard, was he? Because always.. at the end of the night, you're in his bed, his mind, his life.

Was it really a sin? To want something you don't deserve? Simon stayed up that whole night, not a wink of sleep while thinking of whether this arrangement should continue. Every bone and organ in his body telling him to be selfish, take what was something that wasn't his to take.

"Something meaty for the main course, that's a fine looking high horse. What you got in the stable? We've a lot of starving faithful that looks tasty, that looks plenty, this is hungry work"

Simon's gaze, never faltering on your sleeping figure that he refuses to go anywhere but his own arms. He tries to close his eye to compose himself, free himself from the emotions you emit from him.

His efforts were to no use, all he saw was the image of you, sweetly smiling, those doe eye staring right through his soul.

"No masters or kings when the ritual begins. There is no sweeter innocence than our gentle sin In the madness, in the soil of that sad earthly scene. Only then I am human, only then I am clean"

You were getting too close for your own good, Simon knew that, he'll be damned if he let's himself hurt you. So he does what any stupid man would do, avoid you like the plague. Did it mean nothing? Were you just some fling, never to be talked about again?

Fuck you Simon Riley, he made you feel loved in bed like no man ever has or ever will, completely ruining your chance of ever thinking of anything else and that was just a hook-up session? Maybe this one time you can let yourself be delusional, was there really something more? Only one way to find out.

"Oh, oh, Amen, Amen, Amen, Take me to church, I'll worship like a dog at the shrine of your lies. I'll tell you my sins and you can sharpen your knife, offer me that deathless death. Good God, let me give you my life"

You caught him, fucking finally, after days of waiting and trying to get him at the perfect time. "Si.." you whispered softly, you didn't know where to start. He took a quick glance at you before looking back at what he was doing.

"Simon Riley, don't fucking ignore me. Not after everything that happened those nights" You said, it was stern but he needed to hear it. It made him stop, think about what had happened.

Before he could generate a response, "Why?" You asked. It was a vague question, why was he ignoring you? Why does he feel this way? Why does he love you yet refuse to act on it?

"Take me to church, I'll worship like a dog at the shrine of your lies. I'll tell you my sins and you can sharpen your knife, offer me that deathless death. Good God, let me give you my life.."

"You don't deserve a man like me, you deserve one who is like you, optimistic, sweet, fucking beautiful and alive.. A man who's not damaged, scarred, has blood on his hands and haunted by his past. A man who's not afraid to show his love for you. A man who won't put his burdens on your shoulders and a man who will take care of you instead of the other way around. That's what you deserve and I can't give that"

Everything felt like it came to a stop, were you hearing that right?

"You have no idea how much you contradict yourself, Si. How are you so sure that you haven't given those things to me already? You might not be like me but "like me" isn't what I want.. I want you, every flaw, every beautiful scar. Not once before your silent treatment have you hurt me, it's frustrating yes, but you are worthy of that. Every struggle, frustration and mistake, every bit of your love is worth all of that. I want you to see that Si, your actual true worth rather than what some psychotic fucker decided to torture you with"

"Boys, workin' on empty. Is that the kinda way to face the burning heat? I just think about my baby, I'm so full of love I could barely eat"

"Si?"

"Yes, Sunshine?"

"I love you" You whispered after smothering him in a plethora of kisses. Never has anything made Simon melt more in his life than his wife say that. Doesn't matter how long it's been, how much the both of you have been through or how much frustration the both of you were going through..

It will always stay the same, the feeling those three words give him, like the first time, every moment feels that way. Familiar, finally.. Home.

"There's nothing sweeter than my baby I'd never want once from the cherry tree. 'Cause my baby's sweet as can be, she give me toothaches just from kissin' me"

He always thought about how unfaithfulness was such a struggle between some people, he thought about how good he has it constantly, reflecting back on what he used to have to how now this is something he never thought he'd have or deserve.

"When my time comes around, lay me gently in the cold, dark earth. No grave can hold my body down, I'll crawl home to her"

When a man finds himself in the verge of embracing death's arms, what causes the struggle? What causes him to fight that pain, to keep on going? Not once has this crossed Ghost's mind.

No. He's not Ghost, he's Simon. Your Simon.

And you're expecting your Simon home, fuck everything else, he'll give the biggest "fuck you" to death itself and crawl home to you because he'll be damned and he'll experience everything he has in his life over and over again just to hold you again.

"Boys, when my baby found me I was three days on a drunken sin, I woke with her walls around me. Nothin' in her room but an empty crib and I was burnin' up a fever I didn't care much how long I lived, but I swear I thought I dreamed her. She never asked me once about the wrong I did."

It should matter, the amount of blood on his hands. Not once did you judge him for it, what the fuck was wrong with you? Giving a monster such as him a bath like he was some innocent stray kitten, although this time around it was far more messy. The dried blood caked underneath his finger nails.

Flashing him a tired smile while you wiped off the blood that made the water in the tub a hue of brownish-red. Taking your hand in his, his lips brushing against your knuckles. The way you looked at him was enough to make him cry.

"When my time comes around, lay me gently in the cold, dark earth. No grave can hold my body down, I'll crawl home to her"

"Fucking get up" Simon repeats to himself, "She needs you, she loves you" despite how many times he's convinced himself you didn't due to the voice of his father in his head, it felt like a knife twisting in his heart imagining how it would be for you without him.

How much you cried the night he came home a day later, you told him yourself, practically sobbing while clutching your aching chest and him with your other arm how you weren't ready for Price to show up at your doorsteps holding Simon's belongings.

He won't let that happen.. he can't...

"My babe would never fret none, about what my hands and my body done. If the Lord don't forgive me, I'd still have my baby and my babe would have me"

Simon knew it, no one would ever love him like you do. No one would show him the same acceptance, devotion, care, concern and love. It wasn't healthy to be so attached dependently to someone in love.

He couldn't help it, it felt so right, everything with you did. Never a judgmental one, at least towards him. Always first to hold him, the first to ever take away the heavy guilt that weighed his heart and shoulders down after he'd done something he knows he'll go to hell for, if it's even real

"When I was kissing on my baby and she put her love down soft and sweet In the low lamplight I was free. Heaven and hell were words to me"

Every inch was kissed, not a part wasn't worshiped. "So fuckin' beautiful, so sweet. All for me, hmm?" Simon mumbled against your skin, suckling on the soft sweetness that he so claims. All hickeys, no bruises.

Fuck, he'd not just survive but thrive on just you. No other sustenance, your supple thighs he adores to cover in purple, your neck, your lips and your skin that he often compares to sugar syrup in his head.

"When my time comes around, lay me gently in the cold, dark earth. No grave can hold my body down I'll crawl home to her"

The question was, was it worth it to live an eternity of lifetimes filled with suffer to be with you in at least once? The only answer to ever graze Simon Riley's lips was the word "yes", the day that changes is the day that he'd be the biggest bull-shiter the world has ever known.

Simon opened the door to your shared home, "Daddy!" A loud squeal wakes him up from his dread of what he's seen on the field.

"How's my little sunshine been? 'Ave you been good to your momma while I was gone?" Simon asked, carrying the little girl in his arms.

"Yes! Momma said we'd go to the park tomorrow as a reward for me helping out!" Little one saying it so proudly, Simon couldn't help but smile, beaming with pride as his little girl grows up to be what he recognizes as a good person.

"Simon..? You're finally home, I missed you so much" You said, peeking out the laundry room. You walked out, quick to give him a peck on the lips.

"I love you Si.."

"I love you too Sunshine"

Also this is a very long fic.. I expect long feedback.. @connorsui 👀

Does this make sense? Idk anymore it's like almost midnight and I'm running on a few hours of sleep. GOD MY PROM DRESS LOOKS SO GOOD, I CAN'T WAIT.

Taglist: @wishesforyou @puff0o0 @simping4konig @simp4konig @blingblong55 @azereus @rustic-guitar-notes @shadofireshinobi @thelightdjinnofpalestine @09maruchan @anonymuslydumb @skeletalgoats @icarustypicalfall @ghosts-cyphera @fawnchives @connorsui @capuccino192 @miss-gms-and-the-rotten-womb @celestialhole @the-second-sage @starryylies @everlastingmoonlightsworld @keiva1000 @iexiam @drewsmusee @konigceo

Trying out new dividers as well by @anitalenia

[screampied]

HIHI VEGAS!! HOW ARE YA DOING?!

i’ve had this idea for a while and i was wondering if u could write it!!

trying to get off while your husband (geto or nanami) were gone on a mission that took a few days and you started to get frustrated because you couldn’t no matter how much you tried but little did you know he was standing at the door way to your shared room watching try so hard?! and after he confronted you about it he made you get off multiple times and you even squirted for the first time once or twice?!!

nanami catching you playing with yourself — ★.

cw. fem! reader, husband nanami, brief cunnılingus, praise, first time squırt, mdni. an. hii i’m okay!

with brows frustratingly furrowed and a tangled few fingers of yours curled into your sopping cunt, you whine. it’s been a few days since nanami left for a mission and truth be told—you missed him, dearly. more than anything though, you missed his beloved touch. only your husband knew how to make you moan with something as simple as physical touch. he knew you—more importantly, he knew your body. trembly legs of yours sprawl wide open whilst you’re in the midst of trying to locate your concealed g-spot. alas, it’s so cute because regardless of how many attempts you tried, you could never do it like he could. you’re struggling, coating the entirety of your digits with your slit before you slump back in detestation defeat.

a pout goes against your lips as you swear underneath your breath. yet little did you know, nanami was leaning against the door. “aw, sweetheart,” he murmurs in a soft voice, and you jolt immediately once you realize he’s been watching this entire time. you felt a sudden wave of hotness set against your skin like wind, embarrassment overtaking you. dragging his feet against the wooden floor, he tugs on his tie. “havin’ fun?” and once you pout more, he leans down to plant a kiss on your forehead. you shake your head and he chortles. “ohh, i see. poor baby couldn’t even do it right. but don’t worry, kento’s here—let’s pick up where you left off, yeah?”

his words were so so smooth, just his dialogue alone was enough for you to get off. nanami had a way with words for sure. he could say anything in his deep, tantalizing voice and you’d be creaming in an instant. that’s one of the many things he’s always loved about you though.

“o- okay,” you inhale a single sharp breath, having your wrist already bent to a ninety degree angle. two pathetic fingers of yours pull out and he gazes at the soaking mess of a scene. “i know ‘m supposed ‘ta wait ‘till you get home but i was bored, ‘ken. missed you so bad.”

“baby, ‘s okay,” he reassures with a warm smile, grabbing ahold of your wrist.

his touch, you were still a bit sensitive. as his fingers dance against your skin for a few seconds, you felt that familiar throbbing pool of heat introduce itself. a school of pulsing convulsions rupture out of you so haphazardly that it’s almost splitting you from the inside out. you’re panting out of your full, heavy lungs, and that’s when nanami plants a tender kiss near the beloved crown of your head. “missed you more. ‘n don’t worry that pretty head. ‘sides, you know you can call me right?”

“but— but you’d be working,” you mumble, watching as he slowly spreads your legs further.

nanami gingerly brings a hand between your thighs, a thumb stroking against your puffy swollen clit.

swollen to the very entrance, it’s drooling, dribbling sloppily with your anticipating arousal so much that he feels the inevitable tent arise in his slacks. he’d only been watching for a good five minutes—but he couldn’t stand to see his precious baby struggle. the least he could do was teach you right. as you’re still moaning up a storm, you conclude your sentence with a sweet and shaky, “didn’t wanna disturb you.”

“next time, call me,” and his voice was pitchy.

a fair amount of raspy baritone drags around his words before he inches his head down towards your thighs. softly, he grips your left leg before languidly giving your cunt three passionate kisses. those kisses were tender—entirely sloppy, his chin rubs against your folds and you whine, already feeling your arch.

you whimper out his name in pleasure with a featuring hand immediately digging through his mahogany messy strands.

“doesn’t matter if ‘m on my break or not, i’ll always make time for you. if you play with yourself baby—play with her, i wanna hear it too.”

the most kindest eyes meets your gaze for another time—they then flicker down towards your pussy before he swiftly whistles against it. “wheww, she’s all hot ‘n ready, isn’t she,” and speaking of hot, the air feels substantially thick. so thick that you could cut right through the weightless wind with a knife.

nanami lets off a gruff groan, reaching for his pants before yanking down his dress slacks. “sweetheart, i find it cute though. just the image of you not knowing how to finger yourself properly. thought i showed you how, remember?”

with a heaving gasp, your legs were laid all out for him on display as if your body was a canvas. showing off for him as if you were a mere museum piece.

in which—to be honest, you were.

his special, priceless museum piece.

“i— i tried,” you babble, the feverish air of his warm breath aerating against your folds makes you twitch. despite him being so patient and gentle with you—understanding even, he’s still a bit of a tease. he can’t help it. your sharp breathy pants only intensifies the more each millisecond seconds passes and progresses. all the while you’re trying to match your irregular breathing patterns, a clammy hand of yours combs through his umber, unkempt slick back. “can’t do it like you, kento. my fingers are too weak.”

“aw, ‘s okay. guess you jus’ need more training then,” he guffaws with the most kindhearted, gentle expression. that soon fades once you whine, feeling nanami’s plump, perfect lips surprise your cunt with a needy brief nibble.

the moment his rotating tongue swirls against your entrance its over. it’s so slick and,

already . .

you start to coat his chin with your wetness. it’s shimmery, shining against the window pane that had sun ricocheting against the class. so effortlessly pretty. with your quavering legs being all in the air practically, you grind your hips against his face as you’re laid back.

as countless whimpers mercilessly snatch out from your dry throat, you then start to feel the soft fading stubble of nanami’s against your pussy. briefly, it tickles against your skin before it grabs out a louder bundle of moans. the stimulation of his faint facial hair smearing against your entrance makes you pulse more than you’d initially realize. long, lengthy lashes of his flutter shut and as he’s buried between your thighs—seconds go by before he then gathers out two fingers.

his thickset index and a middle finger, both long and you only ached for them to be inside. you didn’t wanna wait anymore— all you knew was that you needed him.

badly, as if your life depended on it.

nanami’s fingers were so slender lengthy, staggering inches. already, you were losing your train of thought . . imagining his long fingers stirring the insides of your cunt, clamping down against your walls. as youre in your own erotic little phantasm, you try to think of it all. nanami praising you how good you’re doing, how soaked you are—even talking you through it in that warm, alluring voice.

as you’re entrapped in your own thoughts, it makes you suck your teeth in wanting desire. your imagery would only soon turn real within a few sloppy seconds.

“stay with me, silly girl,” he purrs, a teasing smile contorting against his lips. it’s a stretch—merely, with a swatting tiny smack against your cunt, you’re brought right back to reality. you moan, trailing your hooded eyes back down at him and he flashes you a warm, innocent smile. prying his mouth away momentarily, he prods an index finger against your entrance— watching as it slowly makes its way in. slowly, it seeps into your drenched cunt and you whine out a mewl. your sweet noises ring through his ears before he inserts another one. nanami mimics a bowling ball grip with his wrist, a low raspy, “oooh,” slithering out of his throat before he gives your pussy another kiss. a french kiss against your folds—deep, sloppy, and strictly passionate. your glutinous slick glosses against his lips—his chin and below, and it’s nothing but a pleasing sight to see.

lewd, but salaciously pleasing,

“seeee. all you had to do, sweetheart,” he murmurs in a hoarse tone.

hearing the sloshing slopping squelches your own cunt makes, he gets more aroused. you’re not helping the growing boner he’s got. still, nanami’s got the perfect angle, it’s almost too perfect.

two hands of yours drag near your neglected breasts—fondling with them as you bite your lip. once the bit skin gnashes against the keen edges of your teeth, you mom again. jerking further back, your lips slither cutely into an ‘o.’ chuckling, nanami then starts to ease both digits in and out. thrust after thrust—he starts off slow so you can adjust. he’s fingered you before, countless times even. but with him, it always seemed like the first time. it was that good.

its rhythm was enticing,

the crazed stimulation has your so brain fuzzy that you could barely comprehend anything but the soft padded tips of nanami’s thick fingers. “my, you’re quite the soaker today,” he continues to speak, and he lolls his tongue against your folds. your taste was his ultimate favorite—no matter how many times he’d get a quick slurp, he was never satisfied.

well—he was, but nanami kento was a perhaps a bit of a greedy man. he always wanted more of you.

every single time,

raising a brow, he grows curious once you suddenly sit up, pulling him towards you.

landing with an oof, he plops flat on his back. a hand runs through his messy hair as he cranes his neck to get a good look at you. you’re so breathtaking when you try to get what you want.

nanami doesn’t even bother to ask any questions, he always finds it cute whenever you try to have your way with him. keyword, try.

“well, excuse me,” and he spots the cute feral look in your dilated irises. you’re needy, still feeling your cunt twitch between your thighs, you crawl towards his lap to straddle him. “hm. w- what’s this?”

“wanna ride you,” was all your quavering lips could ramble out. nanami’s signature cologne scent was loud. as you make your way closer towards him, it was the only thing you could make out. his musk, his known, manly musk that never failed to give you obscene whiplash. nanami glances at the adorably ethereal sparkle in your eyes and his big hands glue onto your hips. sliding your laced panties to the crevices of your thighs, you spring out his weighty cock. “need you, ‘ken.”

“s… so impatient today, huh,” nanami softly smiles, allowing you to feel all over his body. despite him wearing mission clothes still, your hands felt his bulging muscles poke out through the piles of fabric.

once his hardened dick’s out, you moan—leaning into his neck, a hand of yours giving it a few solid pumps. nanami hisses, pulling you closer to him before you arise your jittery hips. “but- but my love,” he swallows, peppering a few kisses near the crook of your neck. “are ya sure you can handle it? you barely—”

“i can take it, ‘ken.”

famous last words—

you said you could take him, but it was the mere opposite. perhaps you’d let your horniness overtake you, because as you’re trying to barrel his fat tip inside, your legs tremor. it’s like the calm before the storm—your legs vibrate and twitch, preparing to erupt and quiver like a predicted earthquake. as you’re tightly holding onto his pent up shoulders, you whine, the peeling head of his plump cock smears itself against your soddened opening.

you’re trying to squeeze him in but he’s just so fucking so big.

your mouth then starts to open wider, voluntarily growing agape and sweet harmonic babbles of moans only escape through. it’s like you’re singing almost, except but in a much more lewd way.

it feels warm—a scorching hot type of warm.

regardless, it feels good even with you trying to take his size. you don’t get far, the head of his dick was so wide that again, you’re in awing rhapsody. you’re trying to have your cunt envelop his heat— feel him bottom out inside of you yet abruptly out of nowhere, you start to gush out.

it happens randomly. you’re not prepared, he didn’t even make his way inside. barely just the tip and here you were squirting all down his length. the sudden orgasm that drags out your throat was so long, it was pretty and bounced off the thin walls of the bedroom. a shrilling moan rudely ripples out from your esophagus as you make a cute attempt at thrusting forward. even still, you were determined to ride him—but still, it was no use. nanami grows a bit flustered at how you collapse into his chest, rubbing your head against him. he pats your head, a soft smile returning to his lips. “s- shiiit,” you croak out, sucking against the tender skin of his collar bone. nanami’s holding you firm and steady, a hand soothingly caressing down your back. the simple gesture alone calms you down, albeit you’re still shaking on his lap. your hips rapidly stutter over him, and you’re still feeling various piles of rapturing nirvana send you into a complete, euphoric trance. “k- ken, fuuuck.”

“i know princess,” he kisses against your earlobe, your narrow slitting entrance just dying to be stuffed.

you’ve never been more soaked—out of all the times, you’ve never made this much of a mess. you never squirted before, and it was a mesmerizing feeling. your legs felt like mush, still shaking and your cunt’s still trying to get over itself— throbbing and pulsing to it’s beating content. concise minuscule tears of sweat race down the sides of nanami’s thinly arched brows. a hand of his then grabs a fair chunk of your ass, making you rock against him before he lowly whispers to soothe your zealous state. your fervent was through the roof— it was a feeling you couldn’t describe let alone put into words. all you knew was that you wanted to do that again. as you’re still twitching a bit, nanami chuckles, bringing your hand up to his mouth to kiss it. “it’s okay, it’s okay,” and a smile creeps onto his face the moment you bury your face into his neck.

oh, you’re embarrassed. you thought you could ride him but instead you barely even lasted a few seconds. nanami was quite compassionate though—he holds you close in his arms, pressing another kiss against your collarbone. “don’t be shy. i never minded a little mess anyway.”

at his lewd, filthy words—you’re whining. you wanted him so bad and you wanted more. you bring your desperate lips towards his face to kiss him and happily, he returns the favor. a tongue of his collides with yours before a hand of his gently wraps around your throat. with moving muscles tangoing together, swaying in harmony—his hands continue to wander every inch of your body. nanami likes to take in your curves, the very curvature of your pretty physique—each spot his fingers locates and reaches, it sends you continuous new shivers every time. pulling away after a while to breathe, nanami then makes you lie on your back again. as he’s hovering over you, he leans down to kiss near your tummy. “don’t worry, wifey,” he shushes in a loving tone—his eyes filling up with even more adoring tenderness for you. you were just so pretty like this, exposed and underneath him. your body was like art to him. “i got you,” he coos, and as he raises your leg slowly, creating a damp trail of kisses from your knee to your ankle, he aligns his cock against your drooling slit. “kento’s got you,” he repeats in a sweet purr. “now let your husband take it from here. lie back— yeah, atta girl.”

[eccentricallygothic]

|| Triumph Of The Beast ||

Description: Captain Syverson learnt that the only way to have her was to ask her hand in marriage. So he did just that. And she was all his now, both to hold and to possess.

Pairing: Soft-Dark!Captain Syverson | Sheikha!Reader.

Disclaimer: I (sadly) do not own Captain Syverson. This is a mature story with dark undertones so kindly browse at your own discretion. Please note that this piece is only a work of fiction that in no way aims to reinforce or propose any stereotypes to any ethnicity or race. Minors do not interact. 

Warning(s): Soft-Dark!Syverson, he is lowkey messed up, smut with plot (I am sorry), possessive behavior, his obsession with her chastity, naive!reader, size kink, biting (it's Henry and his canines ffs), boob play, manhandling, power imbalance, arranged marriage, fingering, handjob, dirty talk, m!dom, f!sub, he's a man, misogyny, age gap (reader is 20's, Sy is early 40's fight me), he's lowkey intimidating, slight spanking, allusion to bondage, manipulation, slow burn-ish, maybe more dialogue than necessary, p-in-v penetration, corruption kink, no use of 'Y/n'. 

Note: Her father is not the mean Sheikh from the movie lmfao. Reader doesn't even have to be Iraqi, just Eastern that you can TOTALLY imagine yourself as because it's a frickin' story for God's sake! Ps, This blocked me so hard mid-write I nearly abandoned it lmfao, I need a break! 

.

Captain Syverson had always thought the notion of the first touch buzz to be foolish. To quote him in his own words, the electric touch that people claimed their beloved aroused within them was nothing more than a steaming pile of horseshit. 

Until now. 

As his thick and coarse battle hardened hands cupped the side of the tender face of his dear wife, the Captain's thumb darted out to quickly glide across the perfect arch of her cheekbone before it moved down to the bow of her lips, his body combusting into a thousand flames of raw desire. 

Her skin was so tender he feared it may come off if he pressed on it too hard. The structure of her body that adorned her traditional wedding attire seemed so fragile in this moment next to him and in his big old bed that the thought of ever manhandling a thing as delicate as her terrified him. The contrast of her usually confident and intelligent countenance was striking in quality to the humility with which she now offered her submission to him. 

His suspicions against his body and strength increased by the passing minute; he felt petrified to even breathe too easily near her. The fear that it may damage her in some way haunted him and filled his lungs with dread. It was not that she was the most petite thing that he had ever seen or she held resemblance to an adolescent in terms of size or any of that weird shit, no. 

It was instead the way in which her head bowed in just the perfect way so it indicated respect and submission; not so high that it would seem that she was trying to deny him his station but not so low that it became off-putting. It was an acknowledgement to his power in their dynamic; an agreement of a lifetime. 

The man could swear he was going crazy. 

There was simply no way he was going to make it through the night with his sanity intact. 

It was just the effect she had on him. 

If there was anyone to blame it was her. 

Because even though he wanted to hide this girl so safely in his arms for the rest of his days that not even a harsh breeze would be allowed to touch her, the erratic way in which his boiling blood sizzled its way through his veins, The Captain wanted nothing more than to just turn her around, press her breathtaking face into the mattress and take her over and over until she was swell with his litter. 

Or press his bigger body against hers and take her deep and raw until her mind gave up on consciousness  

Perhaps place her between his own legs and feel her mouth around him until his seed spilled from her nose. 

Maybe make her mount him and slap her ass that he just knew would be perfect over and over to keep her going even when she didn't want to. 

The possibilities were endless from where Syverson was standing. 

And he was determined to try his hand at all of them, and more. 

His eyebrows furrowed just a little when she awkwardly pecked his lips for the fifth time in a straight row and refused to give him more, cringing away when he attempted to deepen the kiss. The girl that giggled and covered her mouth on which her red lipstick had already smudged was a dead leaf echo of the confident and liberal sheikha -prized daughter of the sheikh supreme- that critically watched the foreign Captain everytime he was around with her bright and vigilant brown eyes so full of scrutiny that it made him, a grown man, blush. It wasn't his fault, really. Her eyes had the most attractive gleam of intelligence to them and the black khol that lined them only accentuated their beauty more. 

She had always been so elegant Syverson knew he was a goner the first time his eyes had been granted the pleasure of looking at her. Sat aside her father basking in her confidence, silk scarf draped around her head and body in the most perfect way, a form he could only describe as agreeable always clad in decent clothes, fingers adorning rings with colorful stones and modesty dripping off of every single mannerism of hers. 

How could a man not look twice?

And then not consider looking away utterly blasphemous on account of being unappreciative of such godly beauty?

"I- I do not know how to…" Her accent turned his gears just right. "K- Kiss, Captain" oh. 

Of course. 

Blood rushed to his cock that hadn't throbbed like this in a long time. That was, if it ever had. 

And then his sweet, chaste wife just had to call him Captain.

Fuck. 

He was going to tear her apart. 

And she had no idea.

The obedient daughter, who was never afraid to voice her thoughts and outsmart every man who dared stand against her with inadequate knowledge of the debate at hand, had happily bowed down to her father's wish that she marry the charming and noble Captain -to them a warrior who was not afraid to fight for his country; a man truly admirable- after said Captain had asked for her hand in marriage when he had realized that that was the only way to have her. 

Mind, body, soul… heart. 

Sure, it had taken Syverson and his rather daft attempts at impressing her some quick-witted answers and astute responses by a rather critical her to realize it.

But she was his bride now.

And that was all that mattered. 

"Well, ain't that just dandy?" Syverson realizes just how heavy his breathing really is when his words come out gravelly and almost forced. She is unable to hold his eyes for very long so she stares at his chest instead, a most remarkable coy smile across her lips. The fact that she looks every other man with a taught unaffected sternness but has blushed everytime their eyes have met after the wedding just drives him all the more insane. 

Her dark eyebrows furrow as she lightly tilts her head to the side. He has noticed that she has some trouble understanding his dialect. So he caresses her cheek again, this time in a reassuring manner;

"I know you'll figure it out soon. You're a clever lil' thing, ain'tcha?" She looks up just long enough to nod with a meeting of their eyes. 

"Yes, Captain" god, even her way of speaking has softened.

The knowledge that he was the only man in this whole wide world whom she treated like this made him want to worship her with his love and devotion in every way possible. 

Because The Captain was naturally a very possessive man who did not appreciate ran through goods.  

"Alright now, just trust your husband and sit back like a good lil' bride, alright?" It was taking him all of his focus to not just push her back and have his depraved ways with her all night long.

"Y- Yes, Captain." 

"Atta girl," before he leaned back in and brushed his lips against hers just long enough to whisper, "now hush and don'tcha try to keep them pretty lips shut on me" he felt her going breathless against him when his mouth fit against the slot of her parted one perfectly; as though it had been created just for him. 

She did her best to keep up with as much obedience as her modesty would allow her to muster but the sensation of his mouth against hers, the scratch of his coarse beard across her delicate skin, the wetness of his tongue that took its time swiping against her bottom lip and the way that he didn't have to break the kiss to know that she had extended her had in his direction to take a hold of him to deal with the intensity of it all, the sheer desperation with which he reached out his fingers and clutched hers in an affectionate way that also had a territorial tinge to it was all too much for her to handle.

An unfamiliar thrill that she had been a stranger to until this moment began to patter through her bloodstream. Her heart pounded, her sweat glands soaked, her face burnt and her stomach fluttered. 

"Captain" was all she was allowed to whisper in the two second interval the man allowed them to recover their breathing. 

"Well, I'll be damned, darlin'" Syverson husked through rushed kisses as he hurriedly helped her lay down with her attire still intact, both too desperate to strip her and wanting to take her as she was, for tonight she looked the most stunning he had ever seen her. "You're so dang pretty I can't even fathom stayin' off ya now that you're mine" a hush of cold breath rushed past her flush lips as her thick eyebrows drooped upwards in reaction to him dipping his face in the curve of her neck.

"I am all yours to do with whatever you please, my C- Captain" her soft hands flew to grab at his shirt as the foreign sensation of a man's body against her skin sent an electric bolt down her spine. 

His body was heavy above hers as he groaned at her response and grinded his bulge against her covered sex, peppering kisses all over her skin. "God damn, baby. Your mama sure raised you up right, didn't she?" A loud squeak resonated in the air when the new husband simply could not hold back his passion anymore and bit down on the inviting flesh of her shoulder, letting out a stomach churning moan at her taste and squeezing her sides as the smell of her fragrance oils hit his nose. 

"Fuck, baby" it took him all of his willpower and the promise that he could go back for more only easier to part from her. "I can't–" sitting up to kneel over her, Syverson pulled his shirt over his head before tossing it somewhere in the room. "I can't hold back no more" as he leaned back down and placed one hand beside her head to keep himself from suffocating her, the way she looked up at him with wonder, timidity, need, sent a pang of pain to his cock. "Talk to me, darlin'" he gathered her wrists in one hand before placing them above her head, now reaching for the clothed bump on her chest. "You feelin' anything?" A soundless breath left her and she shuddered in such a way that her boobs trembled feverishly. 

"S- Strange… a- and… oh my God!" She had to shut her eyes and turn her head to the side when he suddenly manhandled one of her breasts out of the deep neckline of her wedding night dress. Her hands rushed to cover her chest by instinct but her husband's authoritative swat was much quicker and stronger. 

Syverson chuckled at the defensive gasp she let out, a crazed darkness floating in his eyes as he pinnned her feverish hands out of his way, coarse palm now feeling up her other breast that was freed as he spoke. "Ain't no God 'round these parts tonight, baby. Just me…" His lips enveloped hers in a right and hungry kiss. "'N you" the way she nervously gulped when he pulled back to stare into her eyes only added to the fire in his body. "Say, baby" he trailed gentle kisses down her chin, along her throat and then down to the fluffy cushions of soft flesh dotted with flush, erect nipples in the middle. A surprised cry jutted out of her mouth and her fingernails tried to claw at his hand that confined them above her when he pressed one wet kiss on each nub. "Ain't this just somethin' else?" 

The girl had no idea what possessed her to say what she did, but her hips moved faster than her brain could catch on and her lips worked before reticence could hinder her communication. "I- It is, Captain. T- Thank you" of course she had felt arousal before. Of course she had been wet before. Some of those times she had a certain handsome American Captain to thank for, not that she would ever willingly admit it. But she had never known how to relieve herself of it other than a cold shower. 

Her mother had warned her that not every feeling that transpires in one in times of idleness should be chased and she had listened.

But this was not solitary boredom, this was not a devilish lure, her mother wasn't here and it was her wedding night with a man she was slowly becoming sure she would be able to call her dear husband one day. 

If her husband was kind enough to be considerate about what made her feel what she could only identify as exciting, she deemed it a stupidity to refuse the treatment. 

"Aw, baby" Syverson's hands only part from her breasts so his mouth can greedily latch onto them, his bearded lips pressing all over them before his hand nearly snatches her skirts out of his way since the layers seem to be never ending. "To think that I ain't even begun with ya and you're already thankin' me like a sweet little lady" now his mouth traveled to her stomach and the only word he had for its appearance was perfect. A shudder set in her shoulders when his beard scratched her navel before his teeth softly nibbled away on her skin. 

"W- Would you like me to get up and t- take my clothes off, dear?" God damn.

He really had hit the fucking jackpot. 

"Hold on now, darlin'" he husked as his fingers caressed her nubs, his hot mouth littering its kisses over her skin further down south. "I wanna take you like this first" the readied rise in the middle of her shoulder blades smoothed out and she settled back into the mattress again wordlessly. "Well now, are you gonna be good and keep them arms up high like a good lil' thing or am I gonna have to tie 'em up?" A drawn out moan sounded from deep within her throat when his chin deliberately brushed against her clothed sex, coarse fingers twirling her nipple between them.

Syverson felt an unconscious clench in the muscles of her thighs upon his words finally registering in her clouded mind. "N- No, I- I'll be good, husband. I promise." 

"Atta girl" he praised in a satisfied tone before letting go of her wrists. 

It was after that that his hands roamed free and wild all over her form. The Captain kissed, sucked, nibbled, pinched, groped, licked and bit all to his desire, the growing moans of his bride only encouraging him further. 

"God damn, if these ain't the sweetest damn legs I've ever seen" Syverson licked away the thread of spit that previously connected his mouth to her now bruised hiphone that he had successfully marked as his territory. The fact that no man had ever seen them and the plan that he made to never let anyone do so either was making his ears hot. His sides were becoming sore with need like he was the virgin. 

"And this– fuck, c'mere" he couldn't hold it back anymore. The Captain had always been an ass man and the fact that he was yet to see his wife's backside was making him mad now. Her yelp morphed into a confused giggle when he bundled her ankles in one of his rough hands, having already rid her of her panties, and easily raised both her legs up until her lower half dangling by his hold on her. "Hmmm, I just knew you had a perfect lil' rump stashed in there" his free hand felt her soft cheeks up before he traced his index finger down her crack, cursing at the way they clenched in defense. Then his depravity got the best of him and he wound his hand back and gave a handful of strong blows to her poor behind that started blushing in an instant. 

"Oh– ouch!" Her next nervous giggle made him raise an eyebrow as he divided an ankle between each hand and parted her legs to look down at her. 

"Think this is funny, do you?" The girl quickly stopped herself nervously. "You know who that's for?" He didn't even mind the giggles, if anything they were rather endearing to him. But the timidity in her eyes was way too sweet for him to pass up. She shook her head no. "Bad little girls who make fun of their fellas, that's who." It was the cock hardening way in which her bottom lip wobbled sensitively that dried his throat. 

A young woman once so strong, all commanding and authorative now exposed in such a submissive manner and completely at his mercy. 

"S- Sorry, dear" he hummed, reaching for the mound between her legs to roughly feel her pussy up in blunt gropes. 

"You can consider those as payback for all them times you thought you could get slick with me in front of my boys just 'cause you were the Sheikh's daughter" her eyes widened and she blushed harder than before. 

"I- I–"

"Yes, you" though Syverson's words were crisp, his kiss on her nether lips was tender and perhaps that was the sole reason why she didn't tear up from being reprimanded when she was so vulnerable and hypersensitive like this. "Thought I'd just forget all that brattin' of yours?" 

She had to hurriedly sit up for that one and reach for his hands affectionately. "Oh, no" the pure care in her eyes made his melting heart feel as though it had risen into the sky. "It was only that you were not my husband back then, dear," she tried to make him understand, aware that there were cultural differences that needed overcoming, "mother said good girls owe it to their husbands to treat every other man with a serious attitude and indifference!" 

She was breaking his fucking heart. 

It was officially official. 

Abel Ford Syverson was in love. 

Soul crushing, earth shattering, sky tearing love. 

With a woman who was not only intelligent and gorgeous way past his league but one that respected herself with an unwavering devotion towards her spouse. 

"Well, I'll be damned!" He exclaimed with faux surprise that she did not catch up on, much to his expectation. "So that's what it was all about?" Of course he knew. 

He just liked her to say it.

It boosted his depraved ego just right. 

She apologetically nodded with sincerity. "I swear, my heart." The translation of the endearment caused for his blood to pump through his ears only harder. 

Syverson gave her a small smile before sighing a little. "Well, you see, darlin', it did still hurt my feelings a tad" her eyebrows furrowed in regret so he added just to rub it in that much more; "got me a bit of pride to keep up, y'know?" 

Now she pouted. "I am sorry, love…" Before a bulb went off in her head and she jumped a little to express her excitement, the action causing her naked boobs to jiggle. "Is there a way I can make it up to you?" There. 

"Why, of course!" Fuck, he sounded more eager than a middle schooler. "You gonna have to show that you can make a good little wife" her cheeks flushed as she bit her bottom lip in embarrassment. He continued, aware she was as clueless as a virgin.

Because she was one. 

Syverson loved the thought.

He wished there was a way to preserve it -her- all as it was.  

"Anything you want, my dear" she replied sincerely as she earnestly pressed his hand that she held to her chest. 

The man swallowed the bile that had risen in his throat as his eyes flickered down to where their fingers were intertwined; the valley of her perfect breasts. 

"Good girl" his voice came out much deeper than usual. "Go on 'n' take it out, then" the bride's eyebrows raised to express her confusion as she tilted her head to the side. 

His dick whimpered and spilled a thick drop.

"U- Um…"

Syverson was getting impatient. "That means my pants, darlin'." He chuckled to lighten the effect of the edge that his tone had held. "I mean, can't exactly make love to ya with 'em on, now can I?" Something pulled taught in her chest and she went to avoid his eyes out of embarrassment. 

"Oh… yes" she was breathless as she reached for his fly, face angled downwards. 

"Yeah…?" He drew it out on purpose teasingly, dipping his own head earthwards to try and meet her gaze cockily. "Yeah, yeah?" The man kept going unrelentlessly until she had no choice but to respond. 

"Y- Yes…" Her nervous fingers slipped over the button of his pants many times but she managed to free him at last. 

"Go on ahead now, sugar" he coaxed sweetly, tone in stark contrast to his intentions. "Take it out and let them pretty lil' hands get a feel" her legs instinctively tried to close due to the shame she felt but her husband's huge body hindered her attempt to somehow cover herself. "Well?"

Her eyes darted up to him from where her fingers gingerly rested against the waistband of his boxers and Syverson suspected that she was about to decline because of the way her mouth moved to let out some phantom words. But when he raised a questioning eyebrow in response, she seemed as though it had reminded her of her place against him and she quickly dipped her digits inside the undergarment to reach for his thumping cock. 

The first feel of her fingertips connecting with his hard skin was… indescribable. It was as though time ceased, stilling everything else with it and he was enveloped into a cocoon of pure sensation. She was everywhere and inside. Her heat filled him to the brim. Each brush of her delicate skin against his rougher one felt like the stroke of the flesh of an outworldly nymph. Shivers of ecstacy cascaded down his lower back and he was floating already. 

The girl nearly jumped out of her skin at the unfamiliar feeling, the moan that he let out along a whispered praise pulling her back in the moment and away from her recoil. The bride's mind reminded her of her duty to her husband and she used her other hand to hold his clothes away so she could uncover his impaler. 

"Just like that, darlin'. Just like that" one of his hands went to tangle in her hair. "Go on and rub it for me, baby. You're doin' real good" his free hand reached for her own sex that had secreted its natural moisture in reaction to the sensations she was being subjected to. He groaned at the feeling of her warm pussy and squished his finger through her plump nether lips. "Tell me what you see" her own body was getting feverish by the second, hips and cunt trying to shrink in on themselves due to how violating his sense tingling touch was.

"I- It's…" She raked her mind for an appropriate answer. But it was all too much for her to handle; the pressure to impress her new husband, touching him the way he wanted properly, obeying him, submitting to his handling and then dealing with his intense gaze. "V- Very pretty, husband. Thank you" so she played it the safest she knew. 

And the girl could swear she felt him twitch in her palm at that, a pang of pain rising in her wrist as she awkwardly pumped him in a vertical manner. 

"Pretty, huh?" A cunning grin spread across his handsome features as he slipped one finger deep within her folds and being the retired playboy that he was, the Captain easily found her pure entrance. "'N' what about the size?" He could not help but moan at the feeling of her balmy walls clinging to his finger. "Ever seen anythin' like it?" Her thighs quivered as his thumb glided over her folds. 

"N- No, husband" she answered timidly, afraid to bruise his pride with an inappropriate or unsatisfactory answer that may pose a threat to her chasteness.

"That's right" now he began to speed up his intrusion of her insides. "'Cause you're all mine, ain'tcha?"  She quickly nodded, letting out a whine as her eyebrows furrowed at the ache his twisting of one of her nipples caused. "Now tell me," he leaned forward to reach for one of her nubs with his teeth, "did ya ever think you'd land yourself a fella with a cock this big?" He spoke through a mouthful before sinking down on her tender boobs, the tips of his sharp canines digging into the soft cushions of her flesh. 

"N- No…" The girl was gasping as she struggled to keep up with his leaking and twitching cock. "T- Thank you, dear!" She added for good measure despite how overwhelmed she was becoming. 

"Tell me, baby" the man loved how his naive wife's features scrunched in discomfort but she still sped up her fist that was wrapped around his cock because he prompted her to, hoisting himself further up next to capture her lips against his. "Do you think yourself lucky that you get to have this here cock all to yourself for the rest of your days?" He could not help but fuck into her hand at the sight of the spit string dangling by a corner of her bottom lip as it connected to the wad of spit that she had just released on his cock after being ordered to do so. He felt her cringe at the feeling of her fingers touching her own saliva as she spread it over his cock. But her resolve to obey him did not falter even once regardless of how shy or uneasy she felt.

And that was how Syverson knew he had found himself his perfect little homemaker.

"I- I do, husband" her voice nearly broke. "Thank you so much" the fact that all of this was visibly strange and even uncomfortable to her because she was not familiar with any of this… 

The Captain could swear that alone was enough to finish him off.

She was his sacred lamb; a temple undefiled. 

Nobody's leftovers; whole in every sense for the beast to take. 

What could he say? Colonel Syverson's prized son always won, no matter what. 

There was a brighter way of looking at his promiscuous dating history that was in stark contrast to his wife's nonexistent one; it could easily be considered as his physical sacrifice in order to realize and reach his full potential as a man for his future lady's well being as well as pleasure. 

A lady that he had found at last. 

"Say it" his command was heavy and the rough skin of his finger was like gravel against the buttery tissue of her slick walls. "Say that you're the luckiest lil' bride for landin' yourself the best damn dick you could have ever hoped for" she began to subconsciously move her thumb out of sync with the rest of her digits to swipe it over his tip each time her hand rose to his apex and he couldn't believe just how close he was already. 

The Captain was usually a man of stamina and endurance.

But then again it was impossible for the beast to resist his tempting lamb for very long, wasn't it?

"I- I am the luckiest…" She licked her parched lips needily. "L- Little bride for l- landing myself the best d- dick…" Embarrassment burnt her cheeks but pleasing him was more important a priority to her. "T- That I could've ever hoped for…"

He deeply moaned in satisfaction. "My good girl" a quick peck was given to the tip of her nose. "Now tell me, baby. How ya feelin'?" As if on cue, she clenched around his finger with a moan.  

Fuck, Syverson had never really preferred a clueless woman until now.

He could literally demand whatever he wanted from her and she would believe him out of her naivety. 

His perfect pretzel Princess that he could twist into whatever shape that he pleased. 

Or make her do as he desired, for that matter. 

With no one, not even his wife herself, to question him or his ways.

He loved the thought. 

"... S- Strange… P- Pain… but– hnnn!" Her back arched as she suddenly writhed, nearly going white at the feeling of getting her special spot getting tickled for the first time. It was an ability her husband took a lot of pride in; the  renown that he had held in college for being able to find gspots with his fingers alone. 

"Feels real good too, don't it?" The Captain snickered heavily as he began to rock his hips into her hand, feeling himself nearing the brink. 

"Mmh!" She did her best to respond despite the sensory overload, groaning softly when he forces her band of muscles to expand further by adding another finger to her pussy and repeatedly jabbing her sensitive nerves with their blunt tips, the sound of his skin fucking in and out of her liquids getting louder by the minute. "W- Weird… but…" A drop of sweat trickled down the side of her face as she gasped, eyes widening when her spine jolted at a particular wave of pleasure. "M- More, please." 

In the blink of an eye, Syverson had pushed her on her back before crawling up her body like a predator. Before her body could process his fingers leaving her into an orgasm denial, his eager cock was pushing into her. The pained moan that escaped her as her body twisted under his was muffled by his mouth clamping over hers. The Captain grunted as his cock struggled to push its way inside her virgin entrance despite the preparation that he had done. The girl's bottom lip pulled away from the rest of her mouth due to the way he bit down on it to withstand the overwhelming pleasure that sparked everywhere within him.  

"Your wish is my command, my darlin' sheikha." 

Syverson found himself praying for the first time to any god, deity or entity that may be listening; to freeze time right here in this very moment and never set it free again.

For he could stay like this for eternities and beyond; buried inside his dear wife and protectively enveloped in her loving arms that had never held another like she did him and never would whilst she moaned below him in a pained ecstasy, clenching and nearly knocking out as she experienced her first ever orgasm.

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