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justwonder113 · 1 month ago

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Sharing a bed with Changbin

Chan; Lee Know ; Changbin; Hyunjin; Han; Felix; Seungmin; IN;

My Masterlist

Summary: What happens when Changbin comes to pick you up after a night out with your friends.

Warning: Chaos just pure Chaos. Cursing as always; Reader is a female; Both reader and Changbin are dummies. Literally idiots in love; Mentions of drinking, reader is a bit tipsy at the start. mentions of kissing. NOT PROOFREAD. Please tell me if I miss anything.

A/N- Heya babies I'm back! I really hope you'll like this, I really had fun writing this so I hope you will enjoy it. If you have any request of just thoughts to share please feel free to do so. Also if you want to be added to the taglist either comment or massage or even send an ask.

Word count- 3.5k

Sometimes drinking alcohol and getting drunk with your best friends was all that you needed to unwind after a hard week of working your ass off. However, as much as you loved feeling this light, carefree, relaxed and let’s just simply say euphoric, alcohol intake also had its cons. For example, this lightness and relaxation came with the price of being unable to stand straight on your legs and your crush looking way more yummy than usual.

You weren’t really planning to go out. After a day you had at work all you felt like was to go home, take a warm bath and snuggle in bed with some good movie playing on the background. Your best friend came up with the idea to go clubbing and getting some overpriced but tasty drinks. You were reluctant at first but after thinking things over you decided to go. And it was great! You had time of your life and it was just what you needed to fully relax and wash off the stress of your daily life. The only problem now was that you had a bit too much to drink and could barely stand on your legs and you felt really dizzy. Also watching Changbin help your friend (who was also wasted if not more than you) get to her door, and mind you he got every one of your friends to their houses because it was really late and he didn’t want them to go with cabs in the middle of the night while in this vulnerable state. You had to call mama Seo and thank her for raising such a gentleman!

Okay maybe you were a bit biased, It wasn’t a secret your feelings for Changbin had been more than platonic. You two had known each other for quite a while. You didn’t know when it started but you two had been flirting around with each other since forever but neither one of you made that final move to make things official. So here you were stuck in the middle ground, where you couldn’t really be called just friends but you weren’t dating each other either.

Of course you would be more than happy to get out of that situation. At least you would try and move on from him if he didn’t want to date and make things official. You just weren’t sure how you should make the first move, you always kind of expected he would be the first one to ask you out.

You were startled out of your thoughts when you heard Changbin return in the car, you couldn’t help but smile as you took in his disheveled hair and rosy cheeks from the cold.

“Are you sleepy baby?” – He asked as he noticed your dazed eyes.

“Yea, but I can’t sleep. I shouldn’t.” You sighed out as you watched him start the car.

“Why is that bubz?” He looked at you for a second before shifting his gaze to the road.

“If I close my eyes I can not look at your pretty face!” You made sure to whine as dramatically as possible. Changbin let out one of his notorious cackles.

“God that was so cheesy!”-He wheezed out after a few seconds of laughing like he had been possessed with a spirit of an ancient witch.

You grabbed your own cheeks making sure to smush them together just enough, blinked at him all cutely and continued to tease him like the sweetheart you were. “Shut up you love me.”

“I do.” Wow how the tables turn he just admitted it like it was the most common fact ever. Grass is green, sky is blue and apparently Seo Changbin is in love with you.

“Wait really?” You really couldn’t believe your own ears.

“Yeah of course.” Again, he was so incredibly casual about it! Oh no you couldn’t let it slide.

“Why aren’t you asking me out to date then?” There it was, there was no return now.

Changbin not only snapped his head so fast that there might have been a possibility that he could’ve broken his neck, but he also stopped his car so aburtly you had to thank god there was no one behind you.

“What do you mean ask you out?” Wow was it so horrible to even imagine it? You thought you two had a thing. Were you wrong?

“Oh my god have I been misreading the situation the whole time? This is so embarrassing. I am so sorry…”

It was his turn to panic now, which made you feel a bit relieved, because you felt like you were losing your shit! “No no it’s not that I promise!”

“When what is?” You couldn’t hide your desperation now. Maybe you could blame it on alcohol later and hope to move on?

“I thought we were dating?”

…

A blink.

Another blink.

“Changbin what the fuck? How the fuck did you believe we were dating?” You were full on yelling now because what the fuck did he mean he thought you two were dating! Since fucking when?

“I don’t know! I just did! We already act like a couple so what’s the big deal? Wait you don’t like me?” Forget all the sappy shit, you felt like strangling him.

“I do but…” God how did you manage to get yourself in this fucking situation? “God this is giving me such a headache.”

Changbin looked just as lost and even guilty. “I’m sorry. But I genuinely thought we were dating.”

“Since when?” You had to get in the bottom of this, or else your head was going to explode.

“I don’t know, like Han’s birthday party? You remember when you kissed me?” He tried to reason but the new knowledge almost made you choke on your own spit. God was really laughing at you.

“I fucking did WHAT?”

“YOU DON’T REMEMBER?” Changbin full on screamed in shock. Really what did you do to deserve this?

“NO!” You screamed back, and with it went last drops of alcohol remaining in your body and your sanity. Ain’t no way you could return to being normal after this.

“I mean I knew that you drank a little that day but damn! You don’t remember kissing me?” Changbin had his face in his hands, the car still ignited just casually standing in the middle of the road. Thank god there was no one around.

“Fuck me I gotta stop drinking. No I don’t remember kissing you.” Honestly nothing seemed more tempting right now than crying your eyes out at the sheer ridiculousness of it all.

“Unbelievable.” Your heart clenched at Changbin’s sulky and sad voice. You were furious at yourself for not remembering kissing this cinnamon roll.

“I’m sorry. What happened? Tell me a full story.” You pleaded as if hearing the full story would magically return your memories and make the situation any better.

“I don’t know, I walked you home, we were about to say goodbye and you kissed me. I thought that you were drunk but you confessed that you liked me and it seemed so sincere, and we’ve been flirting for ages! How was I supposed to know you wouldn’t remember anything?”

“This is so unfair! You are telling me I have been literally dreaming about how would kissing you be like and in reality I have already done it?” Talk about unfair!

A biggest smile broke on his face and his whole mood shifter 180. “Aww baby you’ve been dreaming about kissing me?”

You really felt like pulling your own hair out now. How was he so calm all of a sudden? “Binnie, baby, respectfully shut the fuck up.”

“But you like me!” He looked so giddy now, what a precious dummy. You really felt like shutting him up with a fat smooch on his lips. You had to pull yourself together.

“Bin you had been convinced we had been dating I don’t know for how many months now. I had you THAT convinced. Of course I fucking like you.”

“Aww you said it again that you like me!”

“I swear to god Seo!” Changbin gasped like he had been slapped making you also flinch in shock.

“Not the last name! I liked it better when you called me Binnie and baby and love and all the sweet stuff.” Was he serious right now? A smile broke out on your face against your will, he was so cute.

You sighed in defeat. “Okay I won’t call you by your last name.”

“Also not the first name. I’m Binnie to you!” To make his point he even crossed his arms, his lips all pouty and cheeks all fluffy.

“Okay Binnie.” You held in your pinky as a promise, he immediately linked it with his feeling satisfied.

You two sat in silence for a few seconds, thankfully he started to drive again. “So like what do we do now?” He broke the silence looking at you with confused eyes.

“I don’t know Bin, let me think for a sec?”

“But” - He tried to protest but you didn’t let him.

“Please baby?” You gave him the best puppy eyes ever, knowing damn well he wouldn’t be able to resist. You just needed a second.

“That’s not fair, You know I can’t say no when you ask me like that!”

The ride to the home was quiet, with the only problem arising when you were in front of your house.

“Bin I Think we have a problem.” You sighed feeling way too drained to care about this new problem.

“Wait what? Why?” You cured yourself for making him feel anxious, you quickly leaned in and grabbed his hands.

“Calm down baby.” You tried to reassure.

“What is it?”

“I just can’t find my keys.” You admitted bashfully.

“Are you kidding? Did you lose them somewhere?”

“No. I gave it to my friend when we left the house, she just found it in her purse she just texted me.”

“Oh thank god I thought we had to change the locks. Do you want me to go back to her apartment?” Really who was this cute and adorable? This was so unfair for your heart.

“What? No, it would be such an inconvenience. I mean we can go at your house?” You already felt like a hassle you didn’t want to tire him more, It was really late too.

“My house?” Changbin sounded genuinely so surprised you thought you said something wrong for a second. Changbin returned to normal in a second. “I mean it’s not a problem but like our sofa broke, turns out you can’t just like wrestle for the better controller or something like that. Okay what am I even saying you can take my room, me and Hyunjin had shared a bed so many times anyways.”

“It’s fine tho.” Your voice was quiet almost like a whisper.

“What is?” You looked at his face, he looked genuinely confused. You rolled your eyes, he really couldn’t take a hint sometimes.

“I meant that we can share a bed.” You tried your best to sound as cool and as casual as possible even though your heart felt like bursting.

“We can do what now?” he really looked like he couldn’t believe his own ears.

“I mean apparently we had been dating for months now.”

“Hey don’t tease!”

“I gotta do something! My head feels like exploding! We managed to get ourselves in quite a situation right here!” You took a deep breath to calm yourself. “Anyway what I’m saying is that I’m completely fine sharing a bed with you. We’ve established that we like each other so I don’t see the problem here.”

“That’s what I thought the first time too! What if you forget again! What if you wake up in the morning not remembering anything and you’re just there in my bed with me in it! You’ll think I’m some sort of pervert and that I took advantage of you when you were drunk!” There he was being all dramatic and huffy all again.

“I’m not drunk!” Who would be drunk after this?

“You were a few minutes ago!” He had a a point but now you felt more sober than you were before you started drinking.

“Well not anymore! How can I be drunk after all that? And I was just tipsy! I was just fine! You were the one worried and insisting that you come and take me home! For which I love you and appreciate you but still!”

Changbin crossed his arms. “I’m still not sure.”

“What you want me to do a video proof that I fully consent to this?”

Changbin glared at you but then smirked suddenly looking smug. “Maybe it’s not such a bad idea!”

“God you’re so petty sometimes.” Two could play the petty game, you took out your phone and pressed the record button. “Hello future me! It is exactly half past thee in the morning and I’m sitting in the car with Changbin who is driving me to his home. This is a reminder to you in case that I forget in the morning that I fully concent to sharing a same bed with Seo Changbin. And to avoid any further miscommunication I will say in this video that I like him like a lot and appartenly he does return the feelings. However if when we get there he doesn’t kiss me I will end this either month long or minute long relationship right then and there!”

It was his time to roll his eyes now, but he clearly looked amused by all this. “You’re impossible.”

“I’m warning you Seo!” Ain’t no way you wouldn’t get your kiss now that you two were aware of each other’s emotions. No way in hell would count the one you didn’t even remember as your first kiss with him.

“Whatever my love shall request my love shall get!”

***

The ride to his house was quick which was great you were dying to take off your shoes. Whoever invented high heels deserved to burn in hell. Thank god Binnie came to pick you up.

Speaking of which, being the perfect gentleman he is, he immediately got out of the car, ran to your side all cutely and opened your door for you, holding in his hand for you to take. You obviously took it, appreciating the kind gesture and also support because your legs really were hurting like a bitch.

Changbin helped you get out of the car, he even closed the door for you. You were about to thank him but something stopped you Something in his eyes.

You weren’t even able to question anything, before you even knew it, he wrapped his arm around your waist brought you close to his body and in mere second his lips were on yours.

The kiss was firm but also full of love, he kissed you as he was afraid to let you go. His lips were so soft and warm and his body… It was so firm and strong and warm. No wonder you felt so safe and loved whenever you were with him, You couldn’t help but cling to him as you tried to return the kiss with the same vigor. Both of your arms tightly wrapping around his broad shoulders.

Your whole body felt like it was melting, you were sure you wouldn’t even be able to stand straight if it wasn’t him holding you so firmly. How was he even so good at kissing? His kisses felt like a drug and you were getting addicted by the second.

After a while he leaned back and you couldn’t help but actually whine, god what was he doing to you? Seeing you chase his lips made the biggest smile break out on his face. God He looked so beautiful with his flushed cheeks and messy hair, his lips all pretty and pink. Changbin leaned in and gave you few short pecks.

After he felt satisfied with the amount of kisses he gave you he decided to just randomly sweep you off your feet, quite literaly. One second you were somewhat steady on the ground the next you were in the air desperately clinging onto Changbin confused out of your mind.

“What are you doing?” – You managed to huff out giggling at his cute antics.

“You’re feet are hurting.” He said it like a matter of fact.

“I mean yes, but are you going to carry me until we get to your house?”

“Why not?” Again so casual, like holding you and walking up to his house which wasn’t that near wasn’t a big deal.

“Binnie I’m heavy!” You tried to protest, even squirmed a little but to no avail.

“Not really, no.”

“Binnie it isn’t worth it, I’m really heavy.”

“What’s the point of working out if I can’t even carry my girl!” Wow your heart must have done a literal backflip because what the fuck was that movement in your chest?

“I’m your girl?” You didn’t even try to hide the lovesick expression that overtook your face.

Changbin glanced at you for a second, then leaned in and kissed the tip of your nose- “Of course you’re my girl.” So not mindful of your poor heart amusement clear on his face clearly enjoying your flustered state. He continued walking as it was nothing, like holding you was same as holding couple of grapes. He only stopped when you two were in front of his house.

“Can you ring the bell?” He asked with the cutest smile ever, how in your right mind could you say no? You rang the bell then it hit you, the situation you were in. You quickly covered your face as if Changbin wasn’t holding you like you were main dish on a platter. The cackle Changbin let out seeing your antics almost woke up the whole building.

Hyunjin opened up the door after a few seconds, clearly he just rolled out of bed. You felt bad for possibly waking him up. He looked at you two with unamused eyes, Changbin still proudly holding you refusing to let you down, and you looking through your fingers clearly shy.

“Huh so my wife is cheating on me with my friend.”

“Uh pretty much? You’re still number one in my heart you know that.” Changbin answered proudly.

“Hey hyun!” You greeted him shyly after you made sure to smack Changbin’s shoulder.

"Hey! Took you two long enough to get together tho.” Hyunjin deadpanned as he let you two in, Changbin finally letting you down on the armchair.

“Oh let me tell you a juicy story then!” You smiled mischievously completely ignoring Changbin’s protests.

After telling Hyunjin everything and him making fun of you two, mostly Changbin, you decided to get ready for bed. Honestly they would be lucky if the neighbors didn’t call the cops on them, they were so damn loud!

Anyway here you were now, laying on one side of the bed all snug in Changbin’s clothes as Changbin laid stiffly on the other. Honestly, he looked like he would fall of the bed any second now.

“Bin you’re about to fall off the bed!”

“I’m fine.” God even his voice was stiff.

“Bin you literally took my breath away the way you were kissing me earlier what happened now?”

“I don’t think I should get any more close.” He grumbled out after a few seconds of silence.

“Why is that?”

Changbin scoffed like he was baffled how you weren’t understanding what was wrong. “You’ll think badly of me!” Again grumbling inaudibly.

“I promise I won’t.” You tried to reassure him, even held in your pinky finger which he begrudgingly took.

“It’s just you’re here in my bed, in my clothes, looking absolutely beautiful and we were kissing and you look so kissable right now… How am I supposed to control myself?” This boy was going to be the death of you. Who the hell was this cute and adorable and so kissable on a random Tuesday night!

“Then don’t.”

“Baby I swear to god!” Changbin covered his face and almost fell out of the bed, thankfully you managed to drag him to the center of bed just in time. Also this gave you a perfect opportunity. You wrapped your hands around him and hugged him tight, Changbin immediately uncovered his face to wrap his arms around you and hug you back.

“I like you a lot bin.” You mused and leaned in to softly peck his lips, Changbin almost immediately melted into your arms.

“I like you a lot too.” He muttered before bringing you closer to seal your lips in a longer more passionate kiss.

“We’re really really dating now so don’t you start getting shy on me okay?” You couldn’t help but tease.

Changbin groaned at the teasing clearly not amused. “Brat!”

You couldn’t help but giggle as you got more comfortable getting ready to get one of the best sleeps of your life.

Reblogs and comments are highly appreciated ❤️

Taglist (comment if you want to be added^^): @velvetmoonlght

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lakesbian · 11 months ago

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nobody move. i've just successfully articulated the sentiment that taylor's power turns her into a panopticon because she was living in one & explained her trigger in a way i feel satisfied with for the first time in my life

the concept of the panopticon is not just about surveillance, but about creating an environment where people cannot be sure whether or not they are being surveilled, and thus must constantly act under the assumption that they are. which is exactly what happened to taylor--we see from when we first meet her in the school that she's anticipating attack from every possible direction to avoid it, and the one time she lets her guard down a fraction and assumes she's found a safe spot to hide from abuse, she's targeted with the juice spills. and this is after her trigger event, but it's clear she behaves this way because it was beaten into her over the entire course of the bullying. it's what she describes when she recounts the trigger:

“I kept waiting for the other shoe to drop. But I made a friend, one of the girls who had sometimes joined in on the taunting came to me and apologized. ... Her approaching me and befriending me was one of the big reasons I could think the harassment was ending. I never really let my guard down around her, but she was pretty cool about it. “And for most of November and the two weeks of classes before Christmas break, nothing. They were leaving me alone. I was able to relax.” I sighed, “That ended the day I came back from the winter break. I knew, instinctually, that they were playing me, that they were waiting before they pulled their next stunt, so it had more impact. I didn’t think they’d be so patient about it. I went to my locker, and well, they’d obviously raided the bins from the girls bathrooms or something, because they’d piled used pads and tampons into my locker. Almost filled it.”

the precise moment when she stopped consciously anticipating and preparing to react to abuse--when she relaxed, when she stopped acting as if the lack of danger didn't mean that she couldn't still be hurt at any time--is when she was brutally reminded that she's never safe. she's still in the panopticon. she isn't literally being watched every second, she isn't literally in lifelong danger of having her vulnerabilities exploited, but it feels like she is. she can never ever be sure she's safe.

so she triggers, and she gets a power that turns her into a panopticon, and lets her watch everyone right back. it lets her regain control by turning her into a source of danger that could attack anywhere, from any direction, any time, fully unexpected.

& the reason her power enables her to watch Everyone--not just a single person, or a few people--but Everyone, is that the other major aspect of her trigger is the trauma of facts like this:

“It was pretty obvious that they had done it before the school closed for Christmas, by the smell alone. I bent over to throw up, right there in a crowded hallway, everyone watching. Before I could recover or stop losing my breakfast, someone grabbed me by the hair, hard enough it hurt, and shoved me into the locker.”

"All I could think was that someone had been willing to get their hands that dirty to fuck with me, but of all the students that had seen me get shoved in the locker, nobody was getting a janitor or teacher to let me out."

for months, for years, she was in a community where everyone regularly witnessed her humiliation and abuse, and everyone, dozens and dozens of kids and teachers, either contributed to it or was knowingly, silently complacent. this is what sticks with her: the idea that she is so universally reviled, so deserving of revile, that any crowd of witnesses would, without hesitation, consign her to the filth of the locker.

what else is she supposed to conclude, but that everyone she interacts with is a threat? that she can't drop her guard ever again, because no one will be coming to help her if she does? of course she has to become the panopticon. of course she has to watch everyone, all of the time, if she wants to stop it from happening again. of course she has to live among the teeming lowly and crawling things she has been taught via one firm shove that she is worth less than, and of course she has to use them to watch everyone back. and it would be inaccurate to say that doing this--monitoring everything with her bugs--makes her feel safe. all it does is allow her to remain in a constant state of paranoia and traumatized hyper-vigilance more efficiently.

#wormblr #parahumans #ive connected the dots. ive connected them #REREAD WIN: OFFHAND LINE ABOUT TAYLOR COMPARING PEOPLE TO BUGS #MADE ME DO MENTAL PARKOUR TO POWER ANALYSIS #read my post boy

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indecisive-capricorn · 7 months ago

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Small Headcanons to Miguel O'Hara After Pregnant Wife Reader Gives Birth:

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I miss reading and writing Miguel O'Hara fics so muchhhhh!! But yeah, my schedule lately has been so hectic and busy, I wasn't even sure if I would be able to finish this in time for the 2nd of June. I will probably just post shorter contents instead of my usual ones.

MASTERLIST & REQUESTS: Before you go, have a glass of wine or better yet, recommend a good bottle. any kind of message is always a delight.

First and foremost, Miguel is in absolute awe when baby Benjamin entered the world. He feels a sense of pride and protectiveness bloom in his chest over the little infant. And when Miguel held him for the first time- oh, he was so close to crying right then and there. Miguel could never understand how people could love within a few seconds of meeting them, but he was immediately proven wrong by his tiny son who was quick to steal a spot in his heart.

Miguel is constantly raining you with love and affection after you had given birth. He couldn't think of how he could ever repay you, the love of his life, from bringing your baby into this world, and he is forever grateful for the second chance you had given him, especially since the journey before is a hard one too.

However, if you think for a second that Miguel will leave your side for missions, then you're sorely mistaken. Miguel has a duty being the head of Spider Society, but he also has a duty as a husband and father. Also, there is in no hells way Miguel is letting you or Benjamin out of his sight while you're both at your most vulnerable states. He specifically restricted Lyla to not give him any assignments throughout the next month after your birth, only telling her to give him occasional updates and to assign his missions to either Jessica or Peter.

You know those husbands who does all the work after their wife has given birth? Like, literally everything and anything their heart wishes? Yeah, that's literally Miguel. He's the one constantly taking care of you and Benjamin all the time, from changing his diapers to making sure to order your favourite food, especially the ones you weren't allowed to eat during your pregnancy. Miguel is very active, always using every one of his minutes doing something, and he enjoys it.

MIguel sometimes fear that he might have neglected you during your pregnancy, which wasn't the case, but he felt as if he could have spent more time taking care of you. That's probably why he enjoys spending each moment with you and Benjamin after taking the two of you home. Time was very precious to him and Miguel had learnt to cherish it after years of experience. It could be an ordinary day with a slightly fussy Benjamin and a moody you, but he would still embrace it with open arms and love the time spent together.

Miguel has always been protective of you and Benjamin, there's no doubt on that, but there is this deep fear in his heart that something might happen to Benjamin the same way something had happened to Gabriella. Due to it, he has a very hard time falling asleep most nights, often choosing to not sleep at all and would use the excuse that he was merely tending to Benjamin. You knew the truth, of course, and you had a long talk with your husband about it, assuring him that nothing will happen to Benjamin and managed to get him to sleep for a few hours.

That is until Benjamin woke the two of you up with his cries of hunger.

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mandalhoerian · 2 years ago

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moth to a flame | leon kennedy x reader

pairing: leon kennedy x f!reader

summary: Break-ups are never easy. Thankfully, you've been preparing for yours for a long time. Leon doesn't let this revelation go for reasons you cannot fathom when he's the one who wants to leave.

word count: 9K

warnings: angst, smut, thigh riding, p in v, kinda body worship, switch leon, he subs for like a moment and goes this better not awaken anything in me

notes: i winged this please don't judge me. also, "plot"-wise, this is an extension of my leon love language post. header template can be found here. enjoy the filth

🌀 read on ao3!

📍 continue to the BAD ENDING!

📍 continue to the GOOD ENDING!

In hindsight, you’ve seen this coming. Your face barely moves at your on and off situationship of two years forcing out, “I think we should break this off.”

So faint and unsure it’s barely above a whisper.

He looks so uncomfortable hunching over, forearms resting on the countertop, breakfast untouched, as if trying to make himself smaller than you, it’s absurd considering the nerves of steel you envy him for, and sure, he’s adorably awkward sometimes for a man of his looks, but not like this. Never vulnerable like this.

The kitchen is gloomy despite the bright winter sun seeping through the windows, almost suffocating because of his uncharacteristically transparent malaise. Leon isn’t one to openly squirm, and in turn, it’s making you all the more nervous — nothing about this is fair when you were thinking you got all the practice needed from imaginary scenarios and possibilities on all the directions the eventual separation would go.

He can’t look at you, shaking his head nervously, choked by the silence. “Say something.”

How funny it is that he’s the most fit man you’ve ever known, could lift you with one arm without breaking a sweat— one bicep literally the size of your head, yet looks like he’d cry if someone touched him right now. It’s a hard to swallow, unreal pill that you’re the one doing this to Leon, making him weak like this.

You’ve never known you had that kind of power over him until now, how he says he wants to break up but would throw up if you actually say yes.

You shift in your seat, the wood of the chair suddenly digs sharply into your skin with how hyperaware your body is of all the surroundings to deviate your attention from Leon, folding your hands on your lap.

The answer is at the tip of your tongue, it was stashed away there months ago. Of course you’ll let him go.

What makes it easier for you is having consented to how absent and private he warned half the things involving him was going to be, or it’s that you knew from the start your time with him would be limited. You just don’t question it; completely skipping the first four stages of grief and jumping readily to acceptance.

The lamb knew it would be slaughtered by the nurturing, kind humans, and yet it still got attached to them; Homer straight up told the readers how the story would end right at the start of Iliad, yet the fall of Patroclus and the rage of Achilles burned the same, if not worse — you knew Leon would inevitably fall apart and run away one day, yet chose to cherish your limited time with him all the same.

It can’t be called a tragedy if you agreed to how it would end in the first place.

Leon Kennedy is ephemeral in his nature, daydream-present and lucid-absent in your life all at once. You thought of him as an outdoors cat, never really yours in the first place, randomly shows up whenever he wants to, reluctantly leaves out of nowhere — a flighty, mysterious companion who’s happy and eager to be there but withdrawn when poked and prodded.

You accept him as such, love him all the same.

You’re not sure if he loves you just as much.

Fondness and like is there, enough for him to have stuck around for this long, but you figure it’s because you’re safe and constant. You’re happy to have provided him with at least that because you’re not sure what he saw in you, to be honest.

What’s happening is painless enough to go through exactly because of this, you hadn’t let yourself get too attached to Leon knowing he isn’t into you as much as you are into him. Maybe you are deluding yourself, maybe you are numb and not as apathetic like you thought you are, but you’re convinced this is how it should go — how it’s meant to go. What’s the point when you’re aware your name won’t be at the top of his list?

The insecurity surely is a small part of the ‘Leon Kennedy Breakup First-Aid Package’ you’ve been cultivating over time in preparation to cushion your own fall when the time would naturally come, but it doesn’t cover the shape Leon is in that even when he’s the one breaking your heart, he looks like he’s shouldering the pain you’re going through on top of his.

This is why you can’t ever be mad at him. You wanted to be with him knowing the way he is, after all.

Leon is a mess despite trying not to show it, his messy straw-blond hair doesn’t shine like it usually does, he hasn’t conditioned it, the golden sheen to it wilted almost. His bloodshot, red rimmed eyes are dim in their blue, laser-focused on the black coffee mug he’s tightly gripping, the skin underneath his lower lashes spread out in faded pink-purple half-rings and it only ever happens when he hasn’t gotten enough sleep in more than a couple days’ time whenever he has to be away for an unprecedented amount of time, or gets buried too long in his paperwork. His thumbs are wiping at the place he puts his lips on and have a sip at the contents of it you’ve seen he fed some liquor to a few minutes prior. He’s awfully domestic in his black sweater and pants, not at all looking like he just asked for a breakup.

You take pity on him.

“I see. Alright.”

His head shoots up, eyes immediately finding yours, no longer blank. He doesn’t seem sure if he heard you right, expression disbelieving. “What?”

“How do you want to do this?” Mirroring Leon’s anxious movements, your own fingers trace the rim of your own teacup. “You could start gathering your things today, but if you want to call it a day, I don’t mind—”

“No—wait—what are you saying?”

“I’m saying okay, Leon.”

He winces at the name, gaze escaping from you again momentarily and he has to blink, the lack of your usual pet name for him must have hurt him, you presume. He has to swallow before talking. “This is it?”

You’re not sure if it’s directed at the end of your relationship or you letting him off easy. “I don’t understand. What else was I supposed to say?”

“I don’t know, I just—”

This isn’t being hopeful, but you ask anyway. “What did you want me to say?”

He sighs in return, tearing away his gaze and hiding it with a hand that wipes at his forehead.

Yeah, it isn’t your hopes that were crushed. You adamantly tell yourself it isn’t. He’s being nice as he always is, of course he’d question how agreeable you’re being, it’s not like his resolve is going to change. “I’m just being cooperative so we can—”

“Aren’t you angry with me?”

That was the problem?

“I’m not, Leon.”

“How can you not be?”

“Well, I…” It’s because you love him, but bringing this up would only make it harder. “I’m not sure. You’ve been that good to me along the way, I guess. I don’t resent you for anything.”

He has that subtle sarcastic look on his face you would take as mocking if you were a total stranger, but you know better. He’s being self-deprecating. You could read it. But you should, he’s thinking. You should resent me.

You don’t.

The thing with Leon is he’s too good to be true that his only flaw is being a literal ghost. A well-meaning ghost who’d send presents upon presents and work his ass off to make extra time for what he had to give up on every time your plans falls through with unexpected shit that came up from his mystery job at the White House he never talks about that has him battered and bruised each time he turns up after prolonged leaves.

Which is an oxymoron considering how attentive and absent he is at the same time. Sometimes you wondered if he’d fix his habit of being a clam about everything concerning himself after you guys were through, but imagining him becoming more open and changing for someone else hurt too much.

“Don’t you want to know why? I mean—god, why are you just taking it?”

“What do you mean taking it? You’re not doing this to hurt me, look at you, Leon, when have you last slept? It’s hard on you too.”

“That really doesn’t have to do with anything right now,” he dismisses. “How are you this unaffected? I’ll take it if it’s to get back at me…”

“It’s not.” You stand up, appetite lost. You want to wrap your food up and put it in the fridge to eat later, and this way, you don’t have to look at him while saying the sentences you have rehearsed for so long. “If you want to break up, I can’t force you to stay—or into anything you don’t want to. It’s not fair for either of us. You’ll be stuck with someone who you don’t want, and I’ll have to live with the knowledge I’m with someone who doesn’t want me.”

You find him staring at you when you’re done, your hand stays wrapped around the handle of the fridge door at how tortured he is. “What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

He shakes his head, blond strands framing his face gently swishing in the air. He does the angry eyebrow scrunch whenever he disagrees with you strongly on something you’ve said, but decides not to at the last minute, and you find yourself the tiniest bit disappointed at him not refusing he doesn’t want you. “You always— you always do this... Be angry. You have to be angry at me.”

You find refuge in the kitchen sink, washing your hands. “Stop it. I don’t want to fight, please.”

“So you are angry.”

“I’m not!” You slam the water shut a bit too forceful and you breathe for a second before turning to him. “I’m not. Angry. I’m sad, yeah. An understatement. Who wouldn’t be?”

He just says, “I’m sorry,” at that, and hates it’s the only thing he can manage to give you, it’s blatant in his face.

You take a seat at the chair directly next to him, you both need the intimacy of good communication at the moment. “But I had a lot of time to mourn, alright? It’s not that I’m taking it or being passive or whatever—”

“Mourn?”

His eyes search yours for a second, and the realization leaves him breathless, the insides of his brows raise up, making him look younger and more innocent. “You were expecting this.”

“Yeah, I mean.” Your lips press together, and you chew the insides before hopelessly shrugging, a small smile doing its best to put itself together. “Look at us. It was never going to work out in the long term. Not really. I consider two years a miracle, to be honest. I don’t know how we got this far.”

“All this time we were together.” Leon’s voice is thick, on the verge of shaking, you weren’t expecting him to take this so badly. His pupils devour all the blue from his eyes, he has never looked at you this hostile before all the hair on your arms rise up. “You were just thinking about breaking up? Have I only ever made you insecure?”

“Not all the time—it’s just—” You swallow. ““Why are you angry at me now? What did I do? You are the one breaking up with me.”

“And here you are okay with this. You’re telling me you didn’t think we’d ever work out when I—” He huffs. “I didn’t even notice a thing. You weren’t happy at all. Ever? You were uneasy all this time?”

“No, Leon, you’re not listening to me. What I expected was that you would leave one day, eventually. Because that’s how you are. That’s how your life is.” He leans back when he gets what you are alluding at, rubbing his face with a hand, refusing to look at you — but out of anger this time around. “I know you wouldn’t be able to stand being in limbo about not letting yourself go and wanting to at the same time. I know you felt bad about everything. I guess it’s just not the right time?”

You don’t say, right person and wrong time, it’s wishful thinking on your part—Leon probably doesn’t think that, someone else seems to take that crown in his heart, you know that all too well.

The muscles on his arm closest to you flexes, he must be thinking about taking your hand in his, so you remove them off the table and nestle them between your thighs. Any physical contact from him might lead to you crying in the end.

“I’m sorry I made you go through all that,” he laments. “Why didn’t you talk to me?”

Your head tilts sideways. “It wasn’t about me, Leon. Suppose I sat you down and complained you weren’t open with me, you were distant. Especially when you weren’t ready for the conversation. I’ll tell you what would have happened. Two weeks of radio silence.”

“Ah, c’mon…”

“It’s not something you haven’t done before. You said it was work, but… You know. I get it.”

Leon exhales from his nose and lowers his head, broad chest puffing up with rapid breaths, his neck is getting redder by the second. You’ve never taken him for someone with an explosive anger, but it looks like that could change any second.

“I wish you wouldn’t take this to heart, I’m not saying this to hurt you when I say I knew this was always going to happen.” You’re talking like you’re trying to soothe a tiger, and he especially looks to hate it. “You can’t possibly have expected me to ignore it. And it wasn’t going to come from me either, I’m happy to be with you either way, but—”

“That’s the problem.” He has his head between his hands, like that could possibly hide him away from the conversation. “I treat you like this and you still say that.”

You wish he wouldn’t be this hard on himself.

“I signed up for this.” He tilts his head at that, accusatory, and you get more agitated in return. “I know your circumstances. You can’t help being absent most of the time, I understand. I understand more than you think.” His forearms hit the counter loudly, he looks about to spit fire any second, but you don’t let it happen. “However. It’s no way to continue a relationship, I know that too. My perspective is that it shouldn’t be guilt that comes to your mind whenever you think of me. I wish things could be different. I wish I could be a priority to you—”

Leon’s face sours, and you stop talking when you see it.

You didn’t mean for the words to hurt him as they did, explanations becoming distraught. “Look, I like you, you know this. Possibly too much. More than I should. You have to understand that’s why I’m being this amicable with you right now. Break-ups don’t always have to end in fights, sometimes things just don’t work out, and that’s what’s happening right now, isn’t it?”

It doesn’t reach Leon. His gaze is faraway, defined jawline locked clenching and unclenching.

“If it makes you feel better, I was angry for a while.” His hand comes down from rubbing a circle in the middle of his brows, eyes shifting back to yours. “But it is what it is.”

“You’re not even gonna ask?” he says, defeated.

“Would you tell me anything different from what I know?”

He opens his mouth, but the only thing that comes out is a sigh, one of his legs shaking, and his head falls forward, curtains of dark blond hair covering your view of his face. For a moment, all you want is to slip your fingers into the silky strands and comb them back, take his heat away, the pads of your fingers on his smooth cheekbones, you know he’d melt into your touch straight away and his expression would lose weight of the strain he carries you can only imagine the root of most of the time, but you abstain.

He wouldn’t appreciate it on the brink of a break-up, you were about to become nothing but strangers.

That’s why it’s abrupt when he leans forward and captures your lips in an unfair, unfair kiss, the force of it makes his teeth clack against yours and you grimace, retreating to break it. His hand slips to the side of your neck to pull you back in, the drag of calluses and heat against the skin of your neck sends goosebumps all over your body, his thumb caresses your cheek in a loving way that hurts but his lips are frantic in their gentler search to open your mouth to his, and suddenly you can’t breathe from how much Leon keeps advancing.

Turning your face away to break the assertive, overwhelming liplock, you take in lungfuls of air as you look as away from him as you can, panicking at the way he presses his forehead to your temple and the way his nose nudges your burning cheek, he doesn’t budge when you attempt to push him off the second you realize you’re enjoying this. He’s built like a fucking tank. “Leon—”

“Say no if you don’t want it,” he breathes, right into your neck, the tickle is mixed with something dangerous that sears your skin along with the low rumble to his voice directly in your ear, and you have to stop yourself from squirming, a coil of incandescence binds its threads together in the depths of your stomach. “Say it and I’ll stop.” One muscular arm hooks around the back of your upper thigh and one around your waist, he quite literally snatches you off your chair and plops you down on his lap, each of your legs hang from the sides of his hips, and you yelp at how effortlessly Leon seems to arrange you to his liking.

He’s needlessly, uncharacteristically cruel. You would always want him. Leon knows this.

“You’re so—” Your breath hitches when his fingers bypass your shirt and sneak up the bare skin of your waist and his other arm readjusts you as he buries his forehead in your shoulder and you gaze at the top of his golden hair kissed by morning sunlight and take in the familiar scent of him and his shampoo. His body against yours leaves a festering sweet longing. “So unfair—you were just breaking up with me—”

He bites down at the meat of your clavicle and you draw in a short breath, the dig of his teeth sting, but he immediately soothes it with a lick and his tongue is hot, too hot. “Unfair?” he groans, you contain the shudder at the emotion he keeps at bay and at the path his blunt fingernails make above the clothing from your hips to the sides of your legs, he’s never been like this. “You already left me in your mind before this and I don’t even know exactly when.” The tip of his nose faintly traces the curve of where your neck meets the shoulder, the tickle is unbearable, aching, you wish he would have left marks instead. “You were always thinking of leaving— our time together didn’t matter to you. What do you think that makes me feel like?”

“That’s not—” You grip both of his biceps and feel the protruding veins and the flex of the muscle underneath the skin, intimidated as always by how both of your hands added together were too small to form a full hold around one. I work out a lot, was his excuse while you were first getting to know each other as acquaintances, and you’d thought how this man belonged with someone of his league. “You’re the one—”

“You dummy, I’m not leaving you because I want to.” Leon’s arms circle your waist and pulls your body flush against his in a crushing hug, his head finding home under your chin and against your chest. It’s innocent and you feel the helplessness, the desire to hold but not be seen, but you don’t know what to do in return, his words don’t quite register. “Why would I ever when I—“ He cuts himself off, breathing shaky as the rest of the sentence dies at his throat. “Jesus, I can’t believe this.”

You tentatively hold his shoulders, surprised at how taut they are. How winded he is like some wire. “I don’t understand.”

“You are just letting me leave like that. Like some business deal done and gone, you just…”

You can’t help the sound that escapes as he bites your earlobe. Why does he keep biting?

“Ow!—“ Leon starts sucking, the wet sounds and his breathing directly in your ear sending shivers down your spine, and you’ve had enough of his thought processes ending up being completed by his lips on your body.

He’s easily able to overpower you, but obeys when he feels you’re genuinely pushing him away, some strands of your hair get stuck on his face and the view of the detained obscenity of his expression —the half-closed eyes and the missing blue, the flush of his cheekbones, glistening of his pinked lips— sends a hot wave downstairs. “It’s you. You! You’re the one leaving, Leon, I don’t get it—“

Some clarity through the pinkish haze of want dawns back to him, and he gingerly combs the threads of hair away from your face, some of them behind your ear. “I don’t want to. That’s the thing. I thought it was clear as day.” Leon searches your eyes, looking down at the details of your face, your heart races as his stare gets stuck at your lips the longest, he isn’t even aware he’s doing it and you feel feverishly desired from his insatiable look, from the slow movement of his Adam’s apple. “But—“

“You can’t help it. Right?” Your thoughts are blurring together, and he’s a black hole pulling you in. “I understand—“

Leon kisses you again, and your stolen exhale turns into a pleased hum. “Stop saying that,” he whispers with inches between your lips, eyes closed, so close your breath is his.

“What do you want me to say?“

“Stay.” He takes your hand and brings it up, planting a singular kiss at the inside of your wrist, and then rests his cheek against your palm. You can only stare at the vulnerability he’s offering you on a silver platter, the tormenting softness is blinding. “Stay.”

Your heart soars. God, you’ve longed for him to give away that he wants to be with you all this time, the insecurity is a blanket you’ve hidden under, this is it, but he’s so torn and you don’t get his struggle, what he must be hiding for such a visceral reaction. He wants to, but he can’t, and you don’t know why, having accepted he wouldn’t tell you from the start anyway.

But you ask. You ask anyway. Hope is a flightless bird waiting for her wings to grow each day. “Will you?”

Something shifts, a delicate moment broken, and Leon draws back, his eyelashes flutter as if he’s shaking off some daydream — and then he’s upset, a pinch in his brow. “I’m sorry.” He shakes his head. “I can’t—“ You’re grabbed from the arms and scooted away from his lap, putting some distance between the two of you. Leon is physically pained, unable to meet your eyes. “I don’t know why I’m being like this.” He holds your hands between the two of you, and you get whiplash from the passion just mere seconds ago and the tenderness of this touch. “I can’t keep doing this to you. I don’t know why I’m this unreasonable, it’s so childish— Shit. I’m sorry, I’ll just—“

“No.” You cup his face in both hands and he looks like an abused puppy tasting kindness for the first time. “Stay for a bit.” Your heartstrings are tugged by the way Leon’s eyes are lit up. “I want to have you. One last time. Is that alright?”

A beat passes.

“Yeah,” he says, blanking out at first, but then repeats stronger, his fingers sink into the plush of your thighs as he licks his lips. “Yeah.” He turns his head and kisses your palm, somber. “You can have me however you want.”

Leon doesn’t look like he’s particularly looking forward to it. “You sure?”

“I’ll always want you, any day, any time,” he says, and you’re flabbergasted at the burden of his meaning. But you force yourself to look past it, look past the unguarded and unarmed honesty, choosing to interpret it in the language of lust.

“Not here, though.” You get up from his lap and he doesn’t stop you. “It’s kinda cramped.”

“We can make it work if you’re up for it,” he half-teases, one corner of his lips curling up, his eyes are humorless.

You snort. Easy for him to say. He’s fit, you aren’t, that’s why being on top can’t last half the time without his assistance. “You can. I certainly can’t.”

“You keep saying I can’t to me, knowing I take it as a personal challenge.” Leon’s touch moves up your forearm and in one swift move, he pulls you in between his legs. He leaves a kiss at the lower valley between your clothed breasts. “Maybe you’re doing it on purpose?”

You’re heating up right away. “I’m not—”

Leon pats his right leg, pulling up the sleeve of his shorts all the way up to the hipbone, exposing the well-endowed, firm thigh. “Sit here.”

“Your leg’s gonna get a cramp,” you say, but it’s hardly a complaint, your crotch has begun to contract at the thought of feeling the flawless skin slipping against your slick folds and how he would mold the tendons to fit just right for your pleasure. Expectation was pulling you tight right from the start where he had you hanging from his every word.

Leon’s almost offended. “It won’t.” But his encouragement is gentle. “Come on, sweet girl.” Hooking one arm between the two layers of the bands of your underwear and pants, he lets them snap back against your skin after he pulls considerably. “And you’re taking off all that.”

You let it go. Immediately. “Fuck, okay.”

It’s morning. You’re in the middle of the kitchen. And you’ve forgotten all of that, head lost in the beginnings of a dull throb between your legs. Your dignity would have been trampled on if you were too enthusiastic, so you try to take your time, and he asks, “How do you want to go about this?”

“Huh?”

His hands ride up your knee and inch up, his thumbs in the line of your inner thighs, and your first instinct is to press them together to alleviate the ache, but Leon’s forcing them apart. “You can have my tongue or fingers first. To help the friction.” You swallow when the nail of his thumb scratches the material of your panties and feels the slight dampness, and he’s watching your reactions very closely. “Or you could just sit down.”

You don’t have strength left in your knees anymore, head spinning with the way his darkened, narrowed gaze is simultaneously bearing down on and looking up at you, and Leon helps you settle your weight on his leg after sliding your underwear down your legs, the warmth of his palms on your naked hips alone is vexing enough and it’s embarrassing that he feels the particularly strong pulse of your sex.

He angles his leg up and you slide forward with the gathered moisture, arms catching onto his neck in surprise from the sudden jolt of pleasure. “Eager, are we?”

You aren’t normally bold like this, would let him keep softly teasing rather than give the same energy back, but there’s a certain finality to this time, your brain is liquid smooth from the tantalizing delight of his touch, and you don’t hold back to inform just what he does to you breathily. “Always for you.”

The movement of his leg staggers and you look up to see him caught completely off guard. And the next thing you know, Leon has you in a bruising kiss, or you think it has the strength to bruise, he hasn’t been this rough before, and you certainly haven’t been craved to this extent in your entire life before him.

This time you accept his tongue willingly into the cavern of your mouth, his fervent licks and gasps rise the question of who’s really the more eager one here, but it doesn’t really occupy space in your mind, limbs stilling overall from how he steals away all bodily functions with just kisses that radiate desperation.

Leon ushers your hips to languidly move when you fail as a multitasker all the while the swirl of your tongues continue to tangle, and it proves difficult as your slide against him becomes smoother and wetter with him finding just how to pull the hood of your mound while you’re pulling back and drag against it in the correct angle, flexing his thigh accordingly.

He pecks your jaw. “Faster?”

Skin contact goes straight to the tightening spiral in your stomach like this. “I can’t—”

“Don’t say you can’t.” He does something that has you dropping down from heights by circling his leg, and completely out of your control, small noises emerge from the back of your throat and you can’t kiss him back anymore. “Do you want it faster or not?”

You try to hum in agreement, but he catches you in the middle of it and jerks you forward, the sharp zap electrifies all your nerves and grants him a startled moan, you can barely see the satisfaction in his face from the sudden tears. You were somehow in control of the pace previously, but once he knows you want it faster, it’s him that anchors your hips to the edge of the stars, a man on a mission.

Leon begins to leave open-mouthed, wet kisses on your neck that has you tilting your head to give him more room, and you’re glad his heavy gaze isn’t drinking in your bliss-stricken expression anymore. “You hear that?” His question is thick. “Listen.”

The noises your wetness make sliding across the muscles of his thigh in a rapid speed makes some of the blood rush up to your cheeks, and the knot is stretched so agonizingly beyond the point of no return that you’re hurling towards absolution, legs beginning to shake and your whines become sweeter. “Leon,” you pant, the fever to keep going as he is conveyed in one singular word reaches him. “Leon—ah, mmh— I’m— Leon!”

“Yeah, I got you.” Adoring kisses are peppered along your jawline and your fingers clutch to his blond hair, pulling him in, your stiffened, perked up nipples are smushed in the press of his chest against yours, and you arch into him like a cat, lost in the ascending ecstasy. “Just let go.” He bites down and your sore walls clench around nothing, the pulsating increasing in intensity. You’re on a thrill ride, shooting up, up, up— “Come for me, sweet girl, come on, give it to me.”

With a sharp, choked cry, and the throw of your head back, the coil explodes and unravels, white sparkles in your vision, and Leon holds you down when your body tries to fly off with the force of your orgasm, the sinking of his hands into your sensitive flesh only heightens and sends crashing waves as he helps you ride through it, rocking lazily with you back and forth.

“Oh god,” you shiver, clinging to him, upper body basically draped across his chest as the pleasure rolls into a stinging ache of pain with the overstimulation, bones jiggly from the floaty feeling to get away yourself. “Too much. Leon. Too much.”

His voice is croaky. “Yeah, we’re not done yet.”

He stands up with his arms supporting your legs around his waist, and you hold on for dear life. It scares every single time he does this. Leon makes it look so easy to carry you around from room to room without breaking a sweat.

The full meaning of his words only get to you when you’re thrown on the bed, wind knocked out of you. “Leon, wait, aren’t you going to Spain tomorrow, don’t you have to prepare—”

“I’m preparing,” he says, putting one knee on the bed and oh god, the shine on his thigh, the drench, that was all you—- “Need to get my fill of you to last for the whole trip, yeah?”

It’s more like he’s saying, ‘To last for the rest of my life’, the hunger and melancholy makes for a Frankenstein’s monster of ravenous, unquenchable yearning when you’re right in front of him and your flame is rekindled.

More than one round with him is uncommon most times because he’s simply busy and moves around a lot, you weren’t used to the practice, build wired to exhaustion taking over when he was finally done with you, either hot, heavy and fast or sweet and intense, each time leaving you with honeyed sore bones and the best sleep following right after.

Arousal pools in the pit of your belly thinking about what comes next.

Kneeling at your feet, he taps your tight-locked knees. “Open up for me.”

It’s morning. He could see every detail of imperfection in this light and uncertainty washes over you for a second before you do as he wishes, the sheets crinkling and rustling beneath your shifting, and he gets on his stomach and puts one of your legs to his shoulder when you thought he would be entering you already.

Flustered, you get up on your elbows. “Leon, you don’t have to.”

“Didn’t think you wanted to get it over with right away.” Sliding his hand up, he fans his fingers on your tummy, thumb pulling at the skin dipping into your vulva, and looks up at you from his eyelashes. Little sparks of pleasure light up at each stroke. The weight of his arm is wonderful. “Breaking my heart over here.”

“It’s not that, I…”

He scooches up, and the knowingly feather-light kiss he leaves on the inside of your thigh, close — right there but not there, makes your leg twitch. “Oh, you wanted something else?” The teasing view of Leon inches away from where you wanted him was a sight for sore eyes, but his sudden hot breath on your post-orgasmic sopping heat broke your daze, making your hips attempt to jump up, but his arm had you absolutely pinned on the mattress. “Well?”

It’s not something you’d planned, but his wanton beauty looking up at you shoves an image inside your brain unexpectedly, reminding you how you’d said you wanted to have him, not the other way around. This is going to be the last time Leon would be like this with you, and there were so many things left unexplored. What would it feel like to have this feline-gracious, strapping man underneath you, to run your lips through his unbelievably sturdy body all over and return the kindness on how good he’s been taking care of you? Leon was always perfect to you. Is perfect. Your wish to present him with how exactly on top of the world he has you feeling for your final time, to return the favor.

Leon has stopped moving and it’s because of your lack of reaction and the long look of contemplation regarding him. You lift his hair away from his eyes. “Can you lay down on your back?”

“You wanna get on top?” he asks, but doesn’t object to it, moving up on the bed and sitting up, getting the hint on taking off his clothes, enamored, you watch his abdomen flex and limbs stretch like a cat’s as he slips his shirt off and throws it away and shimmy off his briefs. Every single movement of his is a wonder.

“No, I want to touch you,” you say, stare not knowing where to focus on him and his half-hard dick jumps at your words. “Explore you.”

He meets your eyes, pupils blown, and swallows, nodding. “You’re gonna kill me.”

“I wanted to have you, remember?”

There’s a semblance of a laugh and Leon rolls on his back, one knee up and hands on his stomach, blond hair fanning around his head on the sheets. He looks like a sculpture. “And how will you have me?”

“Pleasured without thinking of pleasuring,” you explain, he’d be better at the dirty-talk in your position, perhaps say something like ‘Crying for me’, but you’re way too fascinated by him to think about what would have him helplessly turned on. “Vulnerable.”

You would be lucky if you are able to push him to the point of not even one thought behind those pretty blue eyes, but you just want to make him feel good, and with that in mind, reach a hand and trail the tips of your fingers through the prominent web of veins along his forearm, his fingers jump, and you continue through his upper arm, lingering on the sharp lines of lighter-colored small scars until you reach his shoulder, feeling the cluster of the goosebumps that rise in his skin.

“Seriously?” he says with an annoyed timbre and you see him having gone completely hard, eyebrows shooting up in shock. “You’re going this slow? Am I some package you’re unboxing?”

“You seem to be enjoying it,” you murmur in interest, and Leon sulks at how you run all five of your fingernails all the way down the lower of his belly button and how it’s hardly even a graze at all. His abs keep contracting. “I barely touched you.”

“You, haah,” he sighs at you straddling and hovering above him. “Don’t need to point that out.”

Leon tries to hold onto your thighs but you maneuver him away, and unsurprisingly, he isn’t pleased by that, groaning. “Oh we’re doing this?”

“I’m touching you. Stay still like a good boy.”

It’s your usual banter, but for some reason, he turns his face away and closes his eyes for a second, wetting his lips as if his mouth is dry. The line of his neck clenches and unclenches and you feel the brush of his dick lightly hit the inside of your leg. You’re fascinated again. He likes this more than you expected. “God, you really want to kill me.”

Leon could stop it if he wanted to. Switch it around. It’s not like he hasn’t done it before. All the times you’ve attempted to ride him and your knees and calves failed you, he ended up sitting up and hugging you close, fucking up into you and kneading your insides from below and littering your shoulders with angry red marks, taking control of the pace, especially riled up from how endearing and sexy you were trying your best to pleasure him, in his words. He can do it again, but doesn’t. Just lies there, all for you, stuck between a rock and a hard place — which, in this case, is his discomfort and enjoyment. The lack of stimulation gets him going.

You lean down and nip at the corner of his mouth, and he responds immediately, turning back to you, chasing the kiss. His hands come up to your waist but you take them off, pinning them to his sides, and Leon complains through sharply breathing into your mouth. “I’ll only,” Kiss. “Hold you.” Kiss. “Please, just let me—” You lightly bite his tongue.

As if he couldn’t do it if he truly wanted to. He is letting you do this to him. Pleading. In that tone of voice, too. You’re in over your head, what is happening?

“No,” you say, kissing his jaw and caressing the hinge of his opposite jaw with your thumb, sounding stern but feeling silly inside, unsure if he’s amused by you deep down. But Leon huffs again like a spoiled brat not getting what he wants.

You’re shell-shocked, but continue your pursuit to find out what else he likes, settling on his ear, making a line through the outer rim of soft tissue with your tongue and sucking kisses until he’s shifting around, you can hear how he’s trying to level out his breathing, then you bite, and he hisses as you repeat it over and over again.

You’ve heard that some men enjoy getting their nipples played with, and you caress and massage, knead and fondle all over his torso with both hands as the switching of your gentle and silky mouth and the needling pleasure of teeth assault his ear, and you listen to his heavy breathing the occasional hitch of it until you circle around one nub, and flick it, rubbing down and pressing the pebbled nipple inwards, just like how he does it to you, and twist the other one. His face hides itself in your neck, and you let him have that, at least.

His exhale turns into sound and he shuts it down pretty quickly, opting to speak up instead. “Can you—” he begins, and then tuts, sounding nonchalant, but you hear it. You hear the thickness of contained arousal. “Can you move on already?”

“You want the other ear?”

His head jerks in your position at you saying that straight into his ear and breathing into it, you know the thin sheen of saliva coating it makes the sensation sharp and cool and warming at the same time. “No—” he says, but you ignore him, cutting the rejection off by taking his other earlobe between your teeth. “Jesus Christ, this isn’t necessary—”

“If it isn’t, why is this wet?” You ask, watching him closely, tapping the pearl of clear liquid gathered at the tip of his ramrod straight hardness. It’s scalding hot, throbbing at the contact. Leon hisses between his teeth, trying to contain it, and sighs as your index finger circles the tip to spread it around, another bead of precum swelling in the wake of your touch. His eyebrows are scrunched, lips thinning and returning to their usual plushness with him pushing them together, a dust of pink coloring his complexion, a weak glare is on you. “Just enjoy it.”

“I could if you actually did something already.”

You wrap a tight hand around Leon’s needy cock, heavy and thick, and he shouts, the cry turning into a high-pitched whine you would never dream of coming from him and he clamps a hand on his mouth right in the middle of it, hips bucking into you, head thrown back, blown eyes horrified at what he just did. His breaths are loud and shaky, face turning red in seconds, and you watch, utterly captivated. You’ve seen adorable sides of him before when he lets himself be light and his brow isn’t hanging close to his eyes in that grumpy mood, but what you have right here…

You’re drunk on this side of his, nibbling at his exposed throat. “You’ll take what I give you.”

“God,” he whispers behind his palm, with a subtle tremble when you squeeze once and let go. His hips stutter up before falling back. Leon’s embarrassed. “Fuck.”

He doesn’t retort back, all of the sass packed and left. You can’t believe this is working. That Leon’s obeying you like this. He’s leaked all over your hand. Oh my god.

And you’ve really barely even done anything to him.

You can’t help but wonder if this is you doing this to Leon or he’s just into being bossed around in general.

How further can you push?

“Look, you’ve wet my hand,” you say, bringing your glistening palm up and separating your fingers after circling the gathered precum around, a thin thread forming between the digits. Like a hawk, he watches you lap it all up and you don’t take your eyes off of his, hearing him grip the sheets. “Still gonna act like this isn’t doing anything for you?”

Leon’s voice is gravelly as he rasps, “Kiss me.” It’s something between a request and a demand that if you don’t do it, he will.

You oblige, pushing down on his chest to get him to lie down again when it’s apparently too slow and soft for him, and he avidly presses forward to make it rougher, intertwining his tongue with yours harsher to the point of your mixed drool sliding down his chin for more.

He’s yanking and pulling on his clasp on the dreadfully wrinkled covers in self-restraint as he bites and licks and pulls at your lips, butterflies light up the pit of your stomach and thrash against the liquefied rapture that throbs in your pussy and seeps out, the need for attention growing impatient by the minute.

You go down and focus on kissing his neck, alternating between openmouthed licks and bites, careful not to leave marks, insides doing a summersault at the small noise of disappointment he makes that transitions into husky gasps. Leon still is concerned with suppressing any kind of unbecoming sounds he’s appalled to come out of him, and you’re bothered by that. Pressing your palm on the head of his cock and twisting sure does the trick to vocalize him a bit, restoring your confidence.

“Ah… Can’t you just directly touch it,” he sighs gruffly. “This isn’t enough—”

“You aren’t asking nicely enough.”

His head snaps down, brows raised in disbelief, self-consciousness clouding the teased promise of bliss that edges him on, and you stare back at him pointedly — however, on the inside, you’re worried if he’d ever beg at all.

You twist your palm with added pressure enough to alleviate the pain, but not enough to carry him to the peak he wants to get to, and his shoulders jump up, “Ah!” Biting down on his momentarily trembling lower lip and shaking his head with closed eyes as if he doesn’t want to see you watch him be like this, he mutters, “I’m gonna get you for this…”

You grip the base of his cock so hard his hands fly up to your wrists and with a shuddering whimper, stop at the last second before he touches you and he drapes his forearms on his reddened face instead, his back rises from the bed involuntarily, Leon’s flat-on squirming and hating it.

“That’s not nice,” you tease, pressing your legs together in momentary relief and waves of pleasure that slip on your skin like silk, and narrowly stopping the moan. You breathily add, “What do we say?”

“Please,” so fast and quiet, humiliated. You understand, but don’t let him off.

“I didn’t catch that.”

“Fuck, please, come on, please.” His hands ball into fists and his arm veins pop out and his right knee curls upwards. “You can’t keep doing this to me—AHH—mhhmh—!”

His sentence gets cut off into incomprehensible babbling once you start pumping your fist up and down his neglected erection, not even needing lotion for it, he’s drenched enough to make the slide beyond slippery. You add your other hand into the mix and begin teasing the tip, and his chest, having developed a thin layer of sweat and gleaming in the sunlight, is heaving, and he can’t swallow the gasps and noises anymore, fingernails digging into his palms. You can only see his puffed, rufescent lips from the way he’s covering his face.

“Wasn’t what I had in mind, but I’ll take it,” you say, and it’s genuine. This much alone was too much, way beyond what you thought could happen. Leon is always in control, he has it together so brilliantly that this is actually him falling apart, it’s an enthralling, spellbinding natural disaster so beautiful you can’t look away, want to touch yourself to the sight.

“I’ll show you what I have in mind,” Leon all but snarls, and he has you on your back and pulls you towards him by your legs harshly even before shivers can go down your spine. “Let’s see if you can take that.”

You pushed him past his limit it seems, and he darkly stares you down, eyebrows scrunched and beads of sweat rolling down his temples. sweat-dampened hair curtains his face from both sides. His hand slips behind both of your knees and scratches at the smooth skin of the crevice, shooting lightning directly into your core, and he hikes them up to hook over his shoulder and hugs one bulging arm around to hold them together, lining himself up with your slit with a trembling hand, dragging the cherry red, furious tip up and down, slipping it in for a bit, catching your insides in a tantalizing drag, and then taking it out next, making your toes curl in the air and drawing squeals out of you.

Leon would normally send you to the underground and back from how horribly he’d tease you for being this drenched for him, but he’s strained and silent now, snapping his hips against yours and burying himself to the hilt in the spasming cavern of your pussy in one go, with no resistance from how ready for him you were, ripping a fractured cry from you as your vision blacks and stars dance behind your eyes. He groans gutturally, cock pulsing inside, and you feel the sound in your body. You’re overly sensitive from head to toe, and even the sheets sliding against your burning skin makes your clit throb painfully, deliciously.

He doesn’t start slow or build to something, it’s quick and rough right off the bat as he’s ramming into you with no mercy, and he’s basically catapulting you into glorious completion, but you need more stimulation, more, something more—

He slaps your hand away when you try to reach down to your clit to slip two fingers between your tightly shut legs and falls on his forearms, “No way I’m letting you do that.” Leon arranges your legs to wrap around his waist, grinding against you.

His attention then shifts to something else and he pulls on the sleeve of your shirt that’s still on, a scheming shine comes to the blue of his eyes that worry you, and then he’s leaning in and forcing it up. It’s hard for you to move your back and slip it off with the way he’s pinning you down, and it dawns on you late after you make the mistake of raising your arms that it’s what he wants after all. After getting your head out, Leon turns it inside out around the entire length of your arms that act as a makeshift restraint and leaves it like that, you’re incapacitated with your hands over your head like this.

You whine, this is so about not letting him touch you, and he thrusts up sharply to shut you up, sucking blossoming reds into the crook of your neck, hands pulling and pinching at your nipples. It’s building up. It’s building up, but— “You’re going to come like this.”

The frantic slap of skin against skin is echoing in the room and you struggle against the bunched up shirt around your arms. “Can’t—”

“You’re doing it on purpose at this point.” He laces his fingers into your hair on top of your head, thumb on your forehead in little caresses, contrasting how he fucks you shallow and fast, his voice a couple octaves higher than it usually is as he angles your hips upwards to hit deeper, and your moans are a metronome in beat to his ruthless pace.

“Yeah, that’s right, take it!” Eyes glazed over, mouth agape, the muscles in his thighs jumping, body pulled taut, wrecked and somehow begging, Leon doesn’t leave a single spot unkissed on your face and throat and he’s hurling towards an uncontrolled craze, he’s so close himself. “More? You want more? Too bad, this is it—mmm—for what you just did to me, and you’re gonna take it!”

You’re clamping down on him and he hisses in your ear as you repeat it like a mantra, Leon is wrenching a merciless orgasm from you and you have no control over it, “I can’t, I can’t, I can’t, can’tcan’tcan’tcan’t—!”

Leon’s delectable weight pins you down as you shoot up with the detonation of the pleasure into a thousand pieces, rippling through your body in building waves, your pussy clenching down on him catches him off guard and he unceremoniously spills into you with a choked, staccato shout shuddering, the succulent warmth coating your insides and adding to the ecstasy, and it just keeps coming, his load is too heavy and too much. Your stiffened legs lock the shivering man in place and tremble around his waist as he languidly rides his bliss out, forehead sticky against your clavicle, the sheer strength with which he holds you against him is euphoric rather than suffocating.

“God, what the fuck was that,” he mumbles at some point, collapsing on top of you and turning you around with him so he won’t crush you, pulling you to his sweaty chest and putting his chin on top of your head. His scent has you in a fuzzy daze. “What did you do to me?”

You don’t respond, consciousness slipping from your fingers and pulling you deep into the sweet comfort of the dark.

You feel his hand on your cheek, lightly nudging. “Hey, you okay?”

“Mhm,” you manage to make out. “Wanna sleep…”

“Okay, sweet girl, I got you,” he says, soft and endeared, from far, far away.

And with that, you’re out like a light.

When you wake up, you find yourself thoroughly cleaned up, in comfortable, cotton pajamas, with no Leon in sight and a small note left on your nightstand with the keys to your apartment on top of it.

It reads: Had to go. I’m sorry about not staying until you woke up. Talk to you when I get back.

You plop back on your fluffy pillows and sigh, chest hurting. It was always going to end this way. In hindsight, you’ve seen it coming.

Your heart doesn’t agree, tears freely falling from your eyes. It’s really over. Leon really left like that. Just as he came into your life.

You don’t have the right to complain. You’d agreed to it in the first place.

#leon kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy x reader #leon s. kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy #leon kennedy headcanons #leon s. kennedy headcanons #resident evil 4 #re4 remake

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justauthoring · 8 months ago

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a promise he'll keep.

requested! -> also “who did this to you” with astarion would go absolutely bonkers. food for thought requested by! -> @the-sunflower-room

a/n -> thank you for your request! i saw your other one as well and definitely plan on writing it hopefully soon! also! i literally have been in love with this man since the game came out but im so nervous about writing for him i never gained the courage... tho, meeting neil yesterday made it feel like its only write i finally commit and write to him!

tw -> mention of blood, bruises and cuts/violence

pairing -> astarion x f!reader/tav

blood poured from the rather large cut across the side of your forehead, staining your skin and seeping into the tiny cuts littered across your cheek and jaw. bruises lined your neck, in the shape of a hands, and astarion was sure that the rest of your body mimicked the damage across your face.

armour torn, shaking and hurt, astarion's heart burns with a rage he's not felt in a long time.

long ago had he forgotten about the bloodlust of fighting. long ago had he healed from the trauma of his past. years had passed since astarion had first met you and years had passed since the both of you, along with the rest of your companions, healed yourselves from the parasites in your mind and effectively, saved the world.

your bodies had never quite healed though. the trauma of what you'd both experienced had never faded and most likely never would. you'd both accepted that as a fact of your lives and used each other as a means of healing from it.

it had been years since astarion has seen you bloodied and hurt like this, and it feels ten times worse then it ever had before. never a fighter, the second you'd no longer been forced to fight for survival, astarion knows you'd given up that part of your life.

you were strong. there was no doubting that. you could hold yourself and you'd proved that well enough given what you'd done for the world and most importantly, your companions. more than anything, you'd proved that with how you saved astarion from his tormentor and the horror of his past.

but you look so vulnerable in that moment; broken and hurt and bruised and his chest tightens, nails digging into the palms of his hands as the rage coarses through him, burning his veins and has him desperate to make whoever hurt you pay.

painfully.

"who..." and his words hesitate, the fire his chest making it hard to find his words. he doesn't want you to think any of his anger is directed at you... "who did this to you?"

you twitch at his words, arms coming around to hold yourself as you shiver, hesitating.

astarion's face falls.

taking a step towards you, he reaches out for you, hands moving to cup your cheeks, gently and wary of your wounds. he worries you'll pull away, given how afraid you are, but you know astarion and recognize his touch and some of the rage fades with concern and love for you as you lean into his touch.

his fingers work to brush the blood from your face, get rid of the dirt and grime that clings to your skin and tries to soothe you.

your eyes flutter shut in response.

"i'm sorry," astarion whispers. "i'm sorry, i don't mean to scare you."

you shake your head, humming in disagreement. "you didn't scare me."

astarion hates the way your voice trembles.

"i don't want you getting hurt for me," you explain. "you don't deserve that."

and astarion shakes his head. "it doesn't matter if it's you." he assures and he frowns when he realizes he might've not made that clear enough. he had a lot to make up for if you think that he wouldn't do anything for you. "i can't let them get away with hurting you like this."

"i'm okay," you try to deny.

astarion just tightens his grip on you, not enough to hurt you, of course, but enough to pull your attention on him. "you're not," he argues, desperate for you to understand how much it pains him to see you hurt like this. "you're bleeding, y/n. and fuck... you're hurt, badly. it breaks my heart to see you like this."

your eyes fall on him at that. wide eyes meeting his own as your lips part, as if shocked by his admission. maybe shocked wasn't the word—he likes to think the expression on your face is one of reassurance at how much his heart burns with love for you.

the tears that you'd been holding back fall then, your bravety and strength fading at astarion's warming and soothing words. they build at the corner of your eyes and astarion is quick to brush them away.

"i'll never let them hurt you again," he promises then, meaning every word of what he says. he says them with confidence, desperation and sincerity, eyes softening with a plea as he holds onto you, afraid you might slip from his very fingers. "them or anyone else."

your hand grabs his, squeezing.

"i know," you whisper, "this isn't your fault."

he just shakes his head; "it's whoever did this to you's fault," he assures, although the twinge of guilt that festers in his belly is undeniable. he should've been there with you, keeping you safe; even if you knew you were capable of keeping yourself safe... having him there would've assured him and would've stopped this from ever happening.

"y/n," he calls again, voice soft, measured and even as he stares into your eyes and doesn't let you pull away. "who did this to you?"

and your lips part, breathing shakily but there's an ease that washes across your expression and then the names of the men who hurt you come pouring from your lips.

astarion memorizies them, keeps them trapped in his mind as he nods. "thank you." and he is thankful. thankful that you trust him to do what he'd promised. thankful that you know he won't fail you.

"i'll make it better, okay?" he whispers, his thumb stroking across your cheek as he pulls you into his arms, a hand falling on the back of your neck to press you into his chest. "i promise."

you hum your response, leaning into his touch before letting him guide towards your home so he can dress and clean your wounds.

and most importanly, shower you in the love you deserve.

#baldurs gate 3 #baldurs gate x reader #bg3 x reader #bg3 #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #astarion #neil newbon

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alltimefail · 5 months ago

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Okay so I have more thoughts on Dead Boy Detectives but this is less about scene analysis and more about my own personal interpretation of Charles as I truly believe Charles' inability to fully "reciprocate" Edwin's feelings is less about accepting his sexuality/lack of awareness about his sexuality and more about feeling unworthy of being on the receiving end of Edwin's love (and about bad timing - them being in an afterlife or eternal suffering situation on the literal stairs of hell, but I digress lol). This would explain, pretty seamlessly, why he seems to seek out fleeting or "fun" romances and flirtations. It would also explain why, immediately following the confession, there are micro-changes, blink-and-you'll-miss-it differences in Charles' behaviors and expressions. It's clear that our boy is reflecting, and he meant it when he said he intended to "figure out what the rest means..." even if it takes him forever (and I doubt it will, but again... I digress). This is why calling his reassurances to Edwin on the staircase a "rejection" and putting Charles in a box as default-straight is a complete disservice to his character, to the writers, to the queer brilliance that rings beautifully in every facet of this show, and to Jayden Revri who is an exceptional actor with a palpable, deep love and reverence for the character he's portraying.

As a repressed PTSD bisexual™️ myself, I can't help but connect Charles' history with abuse alongside his poor perception of self, people-pleasing tendencies, and his quickness to stifle and repress his own feelings and desires to his fear of being a "bad person." It would not surprise me if Charles would fear the possibility that he is capable of taking something fragile, beautiful, raw, and vulnerable (Edwin's love) and destroy it in the way his father did.

Charles has always loved fully and without caution; I would even say he loves recklessly at times, throwing himself in front of danger, even to his own detriment. But has anyone fully loved him back in the way he loves? Charles has always loved Edwin, but did he ever allow himself to humor the idea that Edwin might just love him back?

It's evident that Charles had very little kindness in his life. Charles' friends were conditional at best and violent/abusive at their worst, his father was a monster, and his mother (who, in all fairness, was also a victim of abuse) was quiet and complicit in the abuse Charles received from his father. His entire afterlife is intrinsically connected to Edwin's - his entire existence, and Edwin's entire existence, are so closely entwined to one another that to "screw up" the delicate balance they've struck would be more than unfortunate - it would be earth-shattering, a loss like no other. Charles is impulsive, but he is not careless...quite the opposite, actually. I truly think whether or not he's attracted to men is not the issue; it wouldn't surprise me if, at the very least, Charles is aware he is attracted to people regardless of gender and just doesn't have the language to put a label to that sensation yet (he might have never been compelled to put a label on it, frankly). The issue is that Charles is unsure if he is deserving of someone not just loving him, but being in love with him... especially when it's coming from someone he thinks is the best person in the world, the most important person to him, the only person he would deny heavy and defy hell for.

Honestly Charles might even already know he has feelings toward Edwin specifically that are not strictly platonic, but taking that gamble even though he struggles with feelings such as being undeserving of Edwin; that he would be selfish to take a love he's undeserving of; that Edwin might come to realize, at some point, that he was mistaken in loving Charles and that being with Charles isn't actually enough/what he hoped it would be and he regrets his confession all together. Or, perhaps worst of all, what if Charles finds that the nagging fear he's buried deep down was correct all along... that he actually is like his father and capable of hurting Edwin and bastardizing the concept of love as a whole?

There are stakes when it comes to loving Edwin - if he were to screw up what they have, the consequences would be disastrous, it very well might destroy him. He cannot be careless, he cannot be impulsive, he cannot risk destroying what he and Edwin have. I'm not sure Charles has ever not loved Edwin, but he probably never humored that his Edwin: touch-reserved, buttoned-up, logical, stubborn, beautiful, kind Edwin who brought a warm light to Charles in his darkest moment, could feel that way, too... especially about him. What is he to do with that?

#I'm sorry another long text post about these damn ghost boys but I love them so #I feel quite kindred with Charles. No matter which way they go I can't wait to see it all play out #dead boy detectives #dbda #dbda analysis #charles rowland #edwin payne #payneland #painland #edwin x charles #character analysis

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scribblesofagoonerr · 6 months ago

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— Just know you're stronger than you think

⟫ Alphabet Challenge, J - Just know you're stronger than you think

Pairings: leah williamson x teen reader

There's a been a lot of tears writing this one, but it comes from the heart.

Shoutout to @alotofpockets for being one my biggest supports when writing and dealing with my rants and emotions, massively appreciate the virtual shoulder to lean on! 💗

"Why is it that the people we care about so much are also the ones' that hurt us the most?"

That particular question has been on your mind ever since it happened, two whole days ago.

"Did something happen?" The therapist, sitting opposite you questions, her voice full of concern.

Fumbling with the strings of your Leahs' hoodie that you are wearing, you slowly nod and look at the older woman, "My mum showed up, completely unannounced."

The memories of the past few days begin to replay in your head as you remember the conversation very clearly.

"Hi sweetheart," You're shocked to open the front door and come face to face with your mother, who you haven't even heard of in a few months, following the last conversation that you had with her.

Yet here she stood, smiling like there was nothing the matter. Had she forgotten what happened?

"Mom? Wha... What are you doing here?" You're confused to say the least and you couldn't understand why she was here, at your front door, after all of this time.

"I wanted to come and see you," The woman replied, still continuing to smile condescendingly at you.

Your eyes furrowed in confusion, "And you didn't think to let me know first?" You questioned her.

"I didn't think I would need to," Your mother was quick to respond, "And besides, I tried to call, but you've been avoiding me, haven't you?" She asked, knowingly.

"I've had stuff going on," You admitted to her quietly, shrugging your shoulders.

The older woman hummed in response, "I know, you were in the hospital, and guess where I had to find that out? The news, social media-- You didn't think to call your own mother?!" She barked at you, like it was her right to know about what's been going in your life.

She didn't deserve that right, not when shes' not bothered with you for as long as you can remember.

"I guess... I guess I forgot," You mumbled, feeling ten times smaller like your mother always has a way of making you feel like that.

It was like a flip switched right there and then, your mother's smile changed to a scowl right in front of you.

"After everything I have done for you, and you just throw it back in my face, Y/N!" The women shouted angrily, her emotions completely changing in a blink.

The therapist sat opposite you, listening to you completely as you tell her about the conversation and relayed it back to her, "Okay, and how did that make you feel? How did you handle it?" She asks.

"The same way that I always did," You murmur, still fumbling with the hoodie strings, "I blew up."

"Mum, I haven't been well-- I tried to kill myself. I wanted to die, I... I tried to end my life because I didn't want to be here anymore!" You completely poured your emotional vulnerability out to the woman, hoping that she'd comfort you, something in which you deeply craved.

The woman literally scoffed and shook her head, "And you don't think that's incredibly selfish to do? What about me-- Wha... You can't leave me, Y/N!" She exclaimed in disbelief.

Your initial confusion turned to anger very quickly, how could she make it all about herself, even now?

"Mum, I'm the one that's been suffering and in pain, this whole damn time!" You didn't mean to yell at her, but something inside you snapped.

"You don't think I have? Y/N, I've been in pain for a lot longer than you have-- You don't know the half of it!" Your mother shouted right back at you, completely forgetting the fact you were both outside in broad daylight where anyone could hear the shouting back and forth.

The very sentence made you realise how inconsiderably selfish she has always been, and she will still continue to be.

"Why has it always got to be about you? I can't even talk to you because you're so wrapped up in yourself-- See this, this is the reason I didn't tell you because yet again, you just once again go and make it about yourself!" You were seething with anger, you didn't care at this point which neighbour did hear you, "I needed you, mum, I really... I really needed you and you weren't there." Your voice was vulnerable and raw, showing the true hurt you felt right there.

"Because you didn't tell me that you needed me, Y/N," Your mother threw it back in your face, having the audacity to even tut at you, "How could I when you don't keep in touch anymore?" She asked.

You really did need your mum, but once again, she was nowhere to be seen when you did.

"She doesn't get it, she never has. Shes' always been this selfish and I've never realised..." You speak directly to your therapist, once again showing your vulnerability as the tears continue to spill down your cheeks.

Your therapist nods and continues to listen, shifting the paper in her hands completely aside, "Did you tell her how you felt?" She wonders.

"I did," You nod in response, "It was hard, but... I did it."

"I deserve to know if theres' something wrong with you, Y/N,'' Your mother stated, like it was her god-given right to know.

Was it really?

"I'm telling you now, aren't I, mum?" You responded, quietly.

Your mother exhaled a sigh and shook her head, "Were you alone in the hospital?" She questioned.

"No, I had Leah--" You were cut off before you could finish that sentence.

Your mother had the audacity to scoff, "Leah is not your mother, Y/N. I am!" She stated, firmly.

"Yeah, well shes' been there a lot more than you have in the last few years!" You confessed your inner thoughts, you were damn right about that statement.

Leahs' been there a lot more than your mum ever has been.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Your mother questioned in disbelief.

"It means... It means I'm done, mum. I'm done with always having to be second best-- I'm done with you and your selfishness! I'm just... I'm done now!" You told her, not having the energy to keep up this argument with her as you deflated your shoulders.

Your mother had the nerve to look at you hurt and it made you feel instant guilt about what you said, "All that I have done for you, and this is how I am treated? By my own daughter!" She said quietly, barely louder than a whisper.

"Mum, I'm sorry... But I can't, I can't do this anymore," Your telling her nothing but the truth, your tired of the bickering, your so tired of it and its' draining you both mentally and physically, "I love you because your my mum, but I'm done, I can't... I think its' best that you go."

"I'm the one whos' always been there, Y/N. I am the one... I am the one whos' been there when that deadbeat of a father walked out on us. He walked and I stayed, I didn't have too. I could have given you up but I stayed and this is what I get?" Your mothers' words hurt, they're gaslighting and manipulative, but you know this is exactly what she is like.

You have to try and remain strong in this decision.

"I think you should go now, mum. I... I don't want you here anymore," You told her, quietly as you avoided looking at her, "Please, just go."

"Y/N, you can't just push me away. I don't deserve to be treated like this," The women continued to gaslight you, showing the toxic traits of her personality.

Shaking your head, you remained firm on your decision, "It's always the same thing with you, mum. Just... Just fuckin' go!" You exclaimed, trying to keep your tears at bay until she left.

You watched as your mothers' face turned to look like complete thunder, "Don't you swear at me, young lady!" She shouted, enraged.

This time, you couldn't help but scoff, "Please, you can't tell me what to do. Just leave and never come back!" You demanded.

"Y/N," Your mother pleaded, but you didn't want to hear it.

Your therapist leant forward to pass you the box of tissues and looked at you in great sympathy, "And then what happened?" She asks.

"Leah showed up," You tell her, giving her a brief smile while trying to harshly wipe the tears away.

"I think you should do what she says. She's asked you to leave and you're not welcome here," Leah appeared behind your mother, coming back from a quick trip to the shops to pick up some much needed essentials and was shocked to see the women on her doorstep after all this time.

"You!" Your Mother turned round to see the voice behind her as she glared, "You've poisined my own daughter against me!"

"Me?" Leah scoffed in response before she shook her head, "That wasn't me, I think you'll find that was all done by you. So you can see Y/N is upset, so please Y/M/N, just go because like I said before, you're not welcome here." Her words were firm and it made you smile slightly with the way that the blonde fought in your corner.

"So, she left?" Your therapist questions, curiously.

You nod in agreement and use your sleeves to wipe your face, "She left, I felt... I guess I felt relieved, free almost? I... I just wish that things could be different, you know?" You tell her, confused about the feelings you have.

Your therapist smiled at you sympathetically, "You don't deserve to be treated like this, Y/N. Even if its' your own mother and you did the right thing here-- Remember we talked about healthy boundaries? Those apply to family members as well." She tells you.

"I know, it just hurts," You murmur, feeling complete exhaustion after spilling everything out in the open.

"It will for a bit, but then it'll heal. This is about you, Y/N," Your therapist continues to speak open and honestly to you, "It will take time to heal, but you're strong enough to do it, and you're not alone either." She states, kindly.

"Rough session?" Leah questions in concern as she glances at you beside where she sits in the driver's seat.

You must be somewhat predictable, or she can tell from the red puffy eyes and tear stain cheeks.

It may just be the latter one.

"Yeah," You murmur in response, you barely have the effort to even want to vocually communicate right now.

Leah continues to look at you in further concern, "Do you want to talk about it?" She offers.

"No, I don't... I don't want to talk about it," Your quick enough to disagree with that.

That was a complete lie, you did want to talk about it. Even if you won't admit it though.

"Okay, that's fine. You know where I am though if you need me, bubs." Leah sends you a gentle smile and squeezes your knee to let you know she's here for you.

"Thanks," You lean your head on the window, watching the passing traffic as you head back home to the flat you shared with the blonde.

The rest of the ride home was quiet, you felt so in your head right now.

Therapy was meant to help, right? Why did it feel like the complete opposite, right now.

"I'm gonna make tea, what do you--" Leahs' words are cut short with the sound of your bedroom door slamming shut behind you, "I'll be out here if you need me at all." She calls out, hoping that you can hear her.

You do hear her, but you just don't have the energy to verbally respond right now.

You used it all in therapy, pouring your emotions out and showing your vulnerability, and that's something which rarely ever happens.

You keep yourself shut away in your bedroom for the rest of the day.

Leah of course has tried to prise you out of your room, but you are very much reluctant to leave your confined space.

You don't want to talk anymore today, you'd already done enough of that with the therapist.

So instead you bury yourself in a blanket, shamelessly clutching hold of the little stuffed green dinosaur that you won at a fair when you were eight, while you just sob endlessly into your pillow.

"Why is it that the people we care about so much are also the ones' that hurt us the most?" The question still plays on your head in a loop, because even now, you still don't understand the answer to it.

What shocks you the most is the fact that your mum hasn't bothered even once to contact you.

That shit hurts, to realise that shes' not bothered about any of it.

Not a single thing.

Somehow during the time you've spent in your room, you end up crying most of the time. Unfortunately, the habits' become more familiar over the last few months than you realise, all because of that woman.

There's a knock at your door, followed by the blondes' voice, "Bubs?"

"G' way," You mumble from underneath the covers, trying to block out the rest of the world.

Hearing the door creep open, you know that Leah isn't going to do that, "I heard you crying. I'm not going to leave you when you're this upset." She states, firmly.

"I don't want... I don't want to talk," You stutter your words, trying to control your sobs no matter how difficult that is.

"That's okay, we don't have to talk about things," Leah moves further into the room as her heart breaks at the sight of you curled up into a ball in the middle of your bed, clutching a hold of the pillow with tear stained cheeks, "Oh, bubs. C'mere, my girl."

That sight was enough for Leah to swiftly move to lie behind you in your bed, gently scoop you up and pull you closer to her, to be able to allow you the comfort even if you didn't want it.

The blonde knew different, she knew not to believe you when you said you didn't want to talk, she allows you the space but shes' not going to allow you to be completely torn up about this.

"Le," Your voice trembles, you don't have the words to say right now, but your grateful for the blonde being there.

Leah quietly shushes you and wraps her free arm around you, "I know, I know it hurts. You don't have to say anything, but know I'm here for you, regardless."

"Why... I don't get why, why does it hurt this much?" You're completely heartbroken, you thought pushing your mother away would help with things, but it makes it all that worse.

"I wish I could tell you the answer there, bubs," Leah murmurs and rocks you back and forth slightly in her arms, "Sometimes' it hurts to do it, but it's' for the best, you know?"

"S... She hasn't even phoned me. She doesn't care about me," You cry openly, showing the raw vulnerability you felt about this situation.

You feel like you've been abandoned, somewhat.

Parents aren't meant to do that, but yet its' easy for enough for it to happen.

And now you're the one in the wrong? It doesn't make sense.

"It hurts now, but things will get better," Leah tells you honestly, running her slender fingers through the strands of your own hair, "And I promise to never leave you alone, ever, okay? You've always got me!" She promises.

"You... You've always been more like a mum to me, more than my mother ever has," You admit to her through small sobs, shuffling around to be face to face with her as you move to rest your head on her chest, "Thank you for never giving up on me or leaving."

Leahs' heart cracks just that little bit more as she smiles sympathetically, "Your my kid, regardless of blood or not, and I love you so so much," She speaks from the heart, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of your head, "The day I met you, it felt like one of the best days of my life and I feel so grateful to be a part of your life, kid."

"I'm grateful you're a part of my life too, Le," You murmur quietly, your voice is hoarse from how much you've been crying but you really do mean what you say, "I wish you were my mum instead, you wouldn't abandon me like she did." You admit, your voice is still no louder than a whisper so you're not sure if shes' even heard it.

"I'd love to be your mum as well bubs, you deserve so much better," Leahs' response is nothing but the honest truth.

Your eyes start to flutter shut, "I really wish it could happen."

Somehow you feel closer to falling asleep, you don't know what it is but you feel that with the presence of Leah there with you, it's a lot easier to fall asleep.

"I'll make it happen," Leah whispers, still running her slender fingers through your hair gently, "Get some sleep, yeah? It's been a long day."

There wasn't any response from you as you'd somehow managed to fall asleep in that short space of time.

"Bubs," Leah peers her head over slightly to see you fast asleep and she can't help but chuckle fondly, "I mean it when I say it and I'll keep that promise, kid. You're never going to be alone again." She states, firmly.

The blondes' heart aches so much for all the crap that you have had to put up with through the years and now she'll do anything to make it better.

"Sleep well, bubs. I love you," Leah whispers, pressing a gentle kiss on the top of your forehead as she pulls you closer towards her, allowing you to sleep practically on top of her, allowing her to lie there and think through things with the determination of a way for you to finally be happy.

#woso x reader #woso fanfics #arsenal x reader #woso imagine #woso one shot #scribblesofagoonerr #arsenal women x reader #arsenal wfc x reader #woso #leah williamson x reader #heavy angst #inner demons fic

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ineffable-suffering · 1 year ago

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Re: "You go too fast for me, Crowley", because I think I finally figured out the real meaning behind that line

Naturally, this line of all lines, the most line of them all, is constantly circling around my rotten brain like a moth around a flame.

In addition, though, there's always been another Good Omen's line/exchange that has kept bothering me again lately. And literally until just about five minutes ago, I had never thought of relating them back to each other.

Now, five minutes later, I have and I think I just ... figured it out.

In case you were wondering: The second line that wouldn't leave my head is what Aziraphale says to Crowley during their clandestine meeting at St. James' Park in 1862 when Crowley asks him for Holy Water:

A: "I'm not bringing you a suicide pill, Crowley!"

And here's what bugs me about this: Why did Aziraphale, without a breath of hesitation, immediately assume Crowley wanted the Holy Water to commit suicide if things ever went wrong?

That's ... such a dark assumption to make. Especially because that is absolutely not what Crowley wanted it for, as he literally says himself:

C: "That's not what I want it for, just insurance."

And what does Aziraphale reply?

A: "I'm not an idiot, Crowley!"

Because he firmly, firmly believes that Crowley is asking him to bring him the Holy Water as a foolproof method of taking his own life in case Heaven and Hell ever find out about them.

To this day, that conversation gives me chills whenever I think about it. We so rarely get see what genuine emotions and thoughts for and about Crowley Aziraphale keeps neatly tucked away behind that tightly buttoned waistcoat of his. This moment in 1862 is one of the very rare ones where his façade slips a little – and the peak we get isn't a fun one. It's a very dark, scared and vulnerable one.

What am I on about and how does this all relate to the infamous "You go too fast for me, Crowley"-line? Let's look at it under the cut.

(Word count: 2560 | Reading time: ~10 min. | TW: mentions of suicide)

Like I mentioned up above, it always struck me to my core that Aziraphale very clearly immediately assumes Crowley wants the Holy Water for possible suicide. Not only is that a very dark and upsetting thought, it also poses the question: Why? Why is that the first place Aziraphale's mind goes to?

Crowley says at the very beginning of their conversation:

C: "We have a lot in common, you and me."

He's definitely referring to their (very mutual) relationship Arrangement and the fact that they both find themselves kept apart and watched by their respective head offices, not allowing them to ever misstep and give themselves away.

After bickering around a little like they do, Crowley asks his favour – and he makes it very clear in a quiet and serious voice that:

C: "This is something else. [...] For if it all goes wrong."

He's not just talking about Heaven or Hell finding out about some silly frivolous miracles, no. He's talking about them finding out about their Arrangement, their relationship. The worst of all worst case scenarios.

So bad, in fact, that he doesn't even ask his favour out loud but instead decided to write it down.

Aziraphale's reaction is ... severe.

We immediately see his face drop as, he too, realizes that this is all of a sudden a very serious conversation indeed. And he immediately and vigorously denies Crowley's request because he thinks it to be one for a suicide pill.

To understand how he could arrive at that lightning-quick (and also wrong) conclusion, we have to try and understand how Aziraphale sees Crowley and the threat that the angel himself as well as their relationship poses to Crowley.

Crowley can, at times, be a very self-deprecating and cynical character. He's without a doubt carrying a lot of trauma and unspoken fears and emotions with him at all times. Aziraphale at this point in their relationship probably has a good notion of what those are – but he doesn't know the whole depth of it because they've never been able to speak freely enough and Crowley has seemingly decided to keep many-a things to himself, still. They both tread the waters of plausible deniability very well.

So, to jump to the conclusion of Crowley entertaining suicidal thoughts in the face of unavoidable danger is ... quite a violent jump. And remember: "[...] underneath it all, Crowley was an optimist. If there was one rock-hard certainty that had sustained him through the bad times then it was utter surety that the universe would look after him."

So, what is it that Aziraphale does know that would drive him to such a drastic conclusion when, in reality, secret optimist Crowley only ever wanted the Holy Water to protect himself against Hell to come out safe on the other end of things?

2500 BC, Land of Uz: A: "That [going along with Heaven/Hell as far as you can] sounds, um ..." C: "Lonely? Yeah." A: "But you said it wasn‘t." C: "I‘m a demon. I lied."

After Crowley helps Aziraphale out in Edinburgh in 1827, Crowley is immediately sucked back down to Hell We don't know what exactly happened after that or just how long Crowley was gone. We also don't know if Crowley ever told Aziraphale what happened, once he returned. What we and Aziraphale do know, is that Crowley ends up asking him for Holy Water, out of the blue, only a couple of decades later.

1601, The Globe: A: "But if Hell finds out [about the Arrangement], they won't just be angry. They'll destroy you." (additionally, later in time, C: "My lot does not send rude notes.")

Ergo: It's very clear that Aziraphale seems to have put two and two together with his own angel math by what he has a) witnessed himself and b) what Crowley has said himself which equals: In going against Hell, Crowley has felt incredibly lonely before he had Aziraphale by his side and if Heaven and Hell were to ever find out about them, Hell's punishment would be a whole lot worse than Heaven's.

He thinks Hell would destroy Crowley.

So when Crowley, who so rarely says how he really feels and one of the few times he did, told Aziraphale he was lonely, says he wants the Holy Water, the immediate conclusion Aziraphale comes to is: He wants it as an emergency exit. In case things go pear-shaped. He wants it to escape whatever dreadful punishment Hell would have in stock for such a lonely traitor. He wants it as a suicide pill.

For Aziraphale to not even entertain the thought or believe that Crowley does indeed only want the Holy Water as a means of self-defense is, again, absolutely heartbreaking. Because it tells us a thing or two just how scared and desperate Aziraphale thinks Crowley to be. Something along the lines of: "If I myself am already so immensely terrified of Hell's punishment for Crowley, how terrified must Crowley be."

I think a whole lot of this is also very, very strong projection and shows us how Aziraphale himself feels about all of it. How scared he is for himself and Crowley. Of what would be done to them.

A: „Out of the question! Do you know what trouble I'd be in if they knew I‘d been ... fraternizing?“

He knows they would both suffer immense consequences and that Crowley‘s still would be worse. If anything, in a dark and twisted way, it shows that Aziraphale himself has definitely entertained the idea of suicide as a concept, at least. Maybe not for himself or Crowley, yet, but remember, he‘s awfully fond of Shakespeare‘s Hamlet.

A: „To be or not to be? Buck up, Hamlet!“

Yeah, buck up indeed. (By the way, there's a great meta by @greenthena on why Aziraphale likes Hamlet so much that kind of plays into my point a little. You can read it here).

And again, who knows what Aziraphale might have actually witnessed of Hell's cruel ways already in the past (Edinburgh of 1827, or at other times) that made him arrive at the conclusion that, ultimately, suicide would be the less painful choice for Crowley when faced with Hell's consequence for their relationship.

I told you this was gonna take a bit of a darker turn. So, here we are. At the turn. It doesn't get much lighter from here on out, I'm afraid.

Because all of this gives "You go too fast for me, Crowley" a whole new devastating meaning.

Personally, I always found it a teensy bit difficult to relate that line back to Aziraphale implying that Crowley was trying to push their relationship a little too fast for him.

Deducing that as the meaning of "You goo to fast for me" after we were shown in the montage of S1E3 that Aziraphale, from circa 1941 on, was undoubtedly fully aware of just how madly in love he was with Crowley, has always felt odd to me. And it continued to feel even odder after we got the whole story of 1941 in S2.

Because if that minisode showed us anything, it's that if you let Aziraphale take over the metaphorical wheel for about five minutes, "too fast" doesn't even match the astronomical speed with which he crashes head first into 15th base. Forget the hand holding and kissing, let's go straight to you shooting me on the first date I planned for us!

And they say romance is dead.

Now look, of course, Aziraphale is still keeping most of his romantic feelings and longing bottled up out of fear that Heaven and Hell could find out about them and have Crowley destroyed. We've established that this very big fear of his is the driving factor behind him never trying to overstep that invisible line.

But still, those feelings? They're there. Oh, Hell, they are t-h-e-r-e.

Our angel is a master of self-delusion but not even he is holy enough to deny the fact that, if he could, he'd want nothing more than to lock that demon down and elope together into their happily-ever-after.

So, when Aziraphale finally budges and hands over the Holy Water to Crowley in 1967, I've always had a hard time believing that that line coming from Mr. "I guess there's something to be said for shades of grey" himself actually meant: "I'm not ready yet, you want to go faster than I do."

Because really, apart from trying to convince Aziraphale of the Arrangement and rescuing him from every silly, coincidental predicament the angel has gotten himself into over the millennia, what exactly is it that Crowley did here to "go too fast"? Hell, he's been at it at the pace of a snail ever since, very well knowing that Aziraphale would take a lot of gentle nudging and lunch temptations invitations to agree with the Arrangement.

All Crowley does in that moment in the car is offer Aziraphale a lift, anywhere he wants to go. And yes, that is code their little dance, that is how he shows his love for Aziraphale. But Aziraphale has never before deemed that an issue or seen it as a too-fast progression of their relationship. He even suggests another date himself two seconds later, saying:

A: "Perhaps we could go for a picknick one day. Dine at the Ritz."

So, what, one sentence later he suddenly wants to hit the breaks again? After he literally looked like this the last time Crowley drove (literally way too fast) through burning London?

Nah, I'm not buying it.

Instead, here's what I think Aziraphale really means with this line that changed us all (and I'm sorry, but I'm about to one-up the sadness of the 1862 meeting):

I think Aziraphale is referring to what he thinks is the reason Crowley wants the Holy Water for.

Suicide.

And boy-fucking-howdy, does that change the game.

Because if we assume that Aziraphale, all throughout the one-century-long Holy Water standoff, thought Crowley wanted it as a quick, ahem, Escape From Everything, what I think Aziraphale really means with "You go too fast for me" is this:

To him, Crowley is asking the most cruel deed of him to bring him the one thing that could take Crowley away from Aziraphale for good. For ever. In case things go pear shaped. In case Hell finds out about them and comes after Crowley.

To Aziraphale, Crowley is asking him to load the bullet into his gun for the time it won't be a trick. So he can escape before Hell gets to him.

More devestatingly, I think Aziraphale even understands where that notion comes from. Aziraphale knows how dangerous their relationship is. And Hell does not send rude notes. So, I think after pondering on it for a good millennia, part of him has come to understand why Crowley would want an emergency exit.

Which is absolutely fucking heartbreaking.

Especially because that's not even what Crowley was thinking when he made his request. He truly only wanted it as a defense. But Aziraphale doesn't believe or fully realize that. Aziraphale believes the Holy Water is a suicide pill and to some extent even understands why Crowley might want that.

And yet, despite (wrongly, but well) understanding Crowley's intentions, Aziraphale is still deeply upset and terrified at the thought of Crowley taking his own life should they ever get caught. Which explains his extreme reaction all the way back at their clandestine meeting at St. James' Park.

Aziraphale assuming Crowley's way out of the most pear-shaped situation of them all would be suicide also means that Aziraphale would be the one who'd be ... well, left behind.

He recognises that choosing death over possible eternal punishment is maybe somewhat of an understandable choice. And yet, it's a choice that, to him, Crowley has made without him. Seemingly way before their first talk about it.

Aziraphale thinks Crowley seems to have made up his mind about his escape plan without him in it.

He thinks that if they were caught, Crowley would want some Holy Water around to quickly chug before he would be at Hell's mercy and that would be it.

Crowley would, for the first time ever, really leave. Not just for Alpha Centauri. But actually leave. Escape and run away to a point of no return. For good. Without Aziraphale. To a place where Aziraphale couldn't follow him, no matter how fast he tried to run himself.

It goes a little something like:

"If they found out about us, you would choose to go where I couldn't follow. And you're asking me to pave the road for you to walk there. Without me ever being able to get a say in walking alongside you. You want to go to places where I could never join you. You'd run away without me and I understand why but you didn't even give me a chance to catch up. You go too fast for me, Crowley."

F*ck, man. I think I need to lie down.

Y'know what else that gives new meaning to?

Alright, that's it, I'm out. Enough sad meta-ing for the day. See you all around once I've stopped slipping further into the void, folks. :')

#good omens #good omens meta #my own meta #good omens season 2 #good omens 2 #gos2 #go2 #good omens s2 #crowley #aziraphale #ineffable husbands #you goo too fast for me crowley #aziraphale is master of projection #i made myself sad with this #The Arrangement #holy water #im gonna go read fluff now bye

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thissccounthatesfascists · 7 months ago

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TL asleep? cool.

(long post, strap in)

i wanna talk about colin's wet dream. that was the most demisexual shit i have EVER seen. there's not even any sex. its just a romanticized, elevated version of their first kiss. its colin's subconscious wanting to replay the moment he fell in love with his best friend in the Most way possible.

lets break it down:

we got the same location of their first kiss. Complete with mood lighting and a fog machine. It’s giving pride and prejudice 2005

Penelope comes out (looking gorgeous, of course) to their rendezvous spot, which has been previously agreed on.

colin thanks her for meeting him, she doesn't know why he's asked her to come

he confesses his feelings for her

she reciprocates (this is the important part of this to me. ) her wanting him, makes him want her more (do you see where the demisexual colin energy is coming from? do you understand?)

they make out

he kisses her neck as she pants his name over and over (see my point above re: her wanting him makes him want her more)

he wakes up, absolutely shook

this is an idealized reimagining for colin: during their first kiss he was basically in shock, his new personality chokes on the reality and vulnerability of the moment

in the book he talks about how he tries to think of something witty to say but finds that no words are necessary, and there's no combination of witty banter or suave bravado that could help in that moment. the rake persona that he has put on up to this point absolutely fails him. but here, in this dream, words are crucial, the declarations of love are why its sexy! (demi colin is canon idc idc)

and its so important that this wet dream, the idealized version of this scenario happens like this. because we've also seen colin having sex with sex workers (and luke newton has talked about this) but his energy in those scenes is very detached, very focused on him and his pleasure with zero connection to the women he's with. he has two different threesomes (if you can even call the second one that, he's barely even looking at them) with four different women and we know nothing about these girls. they don't even get names. they don't matter, and its simply not. as. good. as the feeling of kissing pen. there is no connection

which is, i think, why he taps out during the threesome in ep4. he tries to go back to the devil-may-care attitude toward sex and intimacy that he had before kissing pen, he tries to return to that mask he put on of "the rake" and it just doesn't work! he feels nothing! in fact he feels disdain for the position he's in and the choices he's made!

the threesome in ep4 mirrors the outburst he has later at the club really well. like he's so frustrated with this position he's put himself in, the men he's surrounded himself with. he literally says "none of you are gentlemen!" "you're actually gross and disrespectful!"

a line that i love is :

"... it is tiring, is it not? The necessity imposed on us to remain cavalier about the one thing in life that holds genuine meaning. Do you not find it lonely?"

and they laugh! in! his! face! because these are men that feel perfectly fine sleeping with strangers and bragging about their "conquests" to their buddies

but that is not who colin is! he's still very young. and his experience with marina (who tried to seduce him and it didn't work, imo bc he just didn't feel that passion, that love that makes his relationship with penelope so different) has left him jaded, but not nearly as jaded as he wants to believe. even if he wants to be casual about romance and sex, he just isn't. this man proposed to marina after knowing her for what? a couple weeks? He is an All or Nothing type of guy. He has that Bridgerton 'when i fall in love i will only ever talk about my spouse' Gene

Now: some costuming details that i love:

Her hair:

(i know this is a stretch but go with me here) her hair is in slightly tighter curls than we've seen this season, which to me seems like a nod to colin liking (or at least not minding) her hair the way it was in previous seasons and maybe not caring as much as we might think about her transformation. but its still down and flowy and in line with her new style

let's talk about this! dress! (it has genuinely been keeping me up at night)

the sleeves seem much more similar to the silhouettes of her costumes in previous seasons, not necessarily in shape but in style

the sleeves are bulkier, compared to this season's costumes, which while they might have been the same size and shape, they are made of much lighter material, giving the silhouette a softer, more mature feeling.

compare it to this dress from s3 ep2: it looks very similar with the sleeve shape and the floral appliqués, but in the dress in the image above, the appliqués are much more obvious, closer to penelope's style under her mother's tastes

the point i'm trying to make here will be made more clear in a sec. what I am NOT trying to say that colin prefers her in her little girl dresses with loud designs, bright colors, and silly hairdos. he just associates those bigger, brighter, louder style choices with penelope.

And he has always liked Penelope. Even when he didn’t take her seriously as a potential partner, he always saw her as an equal. He never made fun of her silly dresses and questionable hair choices.

This has nothing to do with Colin but i feel like i should point it out:

there is something to be said about how her muted pastel color palette along with the more demure style that she has adopted shows that she is trying to Show Up with this social season, but as a wallflower, she is shy. she's always hated those brightly colored dresses her mother put her in, because no matter how close to the wall she clung, she was always visible. she was always vulnerable to ridicule.

but i don't think colin knows or realizes this because why would he think critically about the specific style changes she's made. and he probably doesn't really make the connection of the influence her mother has on her clothing. and around him, pen has never seemed all that shy. she's been confident and witty. if you pair her personality that shines around colin with her louder outfits, it seems more congruous

(take the scene from season 2 where we get the line "My purpose shall set me free") this is a side of penelope that no one, not even eloise!, sees

what his subconscious knows is that he associates pen with vibrant, textured, and often 3-dimensional outfits, and his subconscious creates a dress that fits her new style, with a little more of that featherington flair thrown in.

the fucking tie in front: i feel like this is a very clear reference/ foreshadowing to the mirror scene

for those of you who haven't read the book, the mirror scene doesn't actually happen, but colin tells penelope about a fantasy he has about touching her in front of a mirror

this is a pretty small offhand comment made while they're having sex for the first time but amongst book fans the scene has become pretty fleshed out i think, with fanfics especially

because the idea that it touches on is colin fantasizing about penelope seeing herself the way he does, as sexy and desirable (he seriously cares about her pleasure so much its sickening, I'm actually sick)

and although Book Colin doesn't mention it, the idea of him undressing her in front of a mirror has become a popular story set-up

i think the tie in the front sort of plays on the time period sensibilities of propriety: this is a time where in "good" society an unmarried man and woman would never touch skin to skin, its why all the women wear gloves most of the time. its why the scenes in season 1 between daphne and simon play on the excitement of removing the gloves: its a taboo thing

this is unrelated to this post but i need an explanation as to why pen isn't wearing gloves in a lot of her scenes this season, like the scandal that that would cause??? I'm assuming its representative of her growing into her sexuality; and bridgerton is a fantasy, not a historical nonfiction, but like some consistency would be nice guys bc i was so confused abt all the skin-on-skin contact happening. even with Francesca and Lord Samadani WHEN HE KISSES HER BARE HAND I WAS SO UNCOMFORTABLE FOR HER. especially because of all the glove-related tension in s1. but i digress.

so the tie in front is sort of a dare. even though its clearly an addition, and untying wouldn't actually remove her dress, its her (colin's subconscious version of her anyway) way of saying: "you could untie this, you could undress me if you wanted to" "i love you" "i want you"

and i think that's beautiful. this season is great and i will die on this hill.

If you've made it this far, congrats! you're just as feral as me! come and gnaw on the drywall with me while i post fanfics inspired by this season: https://archiveofourown.org/works/55988977/chapters/142190584

chapters 1+2 of my new fic are up

photos are from : https://www.cap-that.com/bridgerton/302/index.php?image=bridgerton3x02_1502.jpg

#colin bridgerton #bridgerton #bridgerton spoilers #penelope featherington coded #polin #bridgerton season 3 #bridgerton s3 #bridgerton meta #costume design #demisexuality #demisexual representation #demisexual colin bridgerton #bridgerton season 3 analysis #romancing mister bridgerton #romancing mr. bridgerton #adaptation analysis #some historical context analysis as a treat for me specifically

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happy74827 · 1 year ago

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All I Wanted Was You

[Thor Odinson x Female!Reader]

Synopsis: Thor had always been there to protect you, save you, and love you… Until he couldn't.

WC: 3540

Category: Heavy Angst, Some hurt/comfort, mentions of Loki, Hela, and Heimdall {TW warning: Thanos and “evil squidward” — I know his name but I think Tony’s nickname is too iconic}

So I recently rewatched Infinity War, and of course watching Thor cry over losing literally everyone else he cares for in the first 15 minutes of the movie sparked my writer heart {finally} and after listening to Paramore we have this hot mess of angst (also why are all my Thor fics so angsty when he’s the definition of fluff?? I live for the drama I guess)

And just for the record, we don’t talk about the fact that I have thousands of requests and this isn’t even one of them 💀😭

『••✎••』

They say fear lies in the unknown. In the absence of facts and knowledge, the mind creates a world of illusions. If you believe your own fears, they become reality.

So what happens when the thing you fear the most is taken from you? When everything else falls to nothing? When the world is turned upside down?

You're left with a feeling that can only be described as the deepest pain imaginable.

You're left with nothing but your fear.

Your heart was racing so fast, and your breaths were short. You could feel every single muscle in your body tense up as the unnamed alien man dragged you further and further into the unknown.

The trip back to Earth, back to your sanctuary of a home, was nothing but a blur. After everything that had gone down within Asgard, including Asgard's destruction, all you could think about was your lover. Your other half.

Thor.

He was in pain, and not just physically. You had been separated due to his secretive, power-hungry sister, to where he’d left you alone with his kind-hearted people to find his father, only to disappear and leave you alone with the slaughtering of the Asgardians.

The people you’ve met that very day ended up slaughtered by Hela. Some took you by the hand, guiding and shielding you for protection against the God of Death and her henchmen. Others, you could tell, were more than just scared; they were terrified. The ones that were too slow or the ones that decided to fight back were killed within an instant.

You were no warrior. You were a simple, plain human who somehow caught the eye of the mighty Thor Odinson, and for some reason, he was in love with you.

So, while everyone else fought against Hela and her henchmen, you ran. Thor had left you there in assurance of your safety, thinking the search for his father with Loki, of all people, would be too risky for you, but in reality, you would have rather been with him. At least then, if you were to die, you could have been in the arms of the one you love.

Miraculously, you had survived the fall of Asgard and the escape from Surtur. You had no clue how. Maybe you were just lucky, or perhaps it was the grace of the Allfather. Even Heimdall, the man who saw everything, didn’t see you making it out alive.

But, when Thor had found you in the throne room cornered by some henchmen, it became a fact that Heimdall couldn’t see everything; after all.

The moment your eyes had met, the moment you heard the sound of metal against flesh, the moment his strong, powerful, protective arms wrapped around your fragile, vulnerable, weak form, and the moment his lips kissed the top of your head, you were safe.

Safe.

The only time you felt genuinely safe was when you were with Thor. His mere presence made you feel at ease. Like nothing could ever touch you or hurt you because he wouldn't let it.

He would protect you no matter the cost. He’d die for you, give his life for you, and go to the depths of Hell and back for you. He loved you, and that was something you could never understand.

Why would such a mighty god, a king, and a warrior want to love a simple human like yourself? A clumsy one at that.

You weren’t special in any way. You were ordinary.

But Thor, he was extraordinary.

The God of Thunder, a king and a warrior, a prince and a protector.

He was everything you were not.

It wasn't just the physical things that made him great, too, but the things that were inside.

Thor was a good man. A caring man. One who always thought about others and not himself.

Thor had his moments, yes, but no one is perfect. Not even a god. But the thing that made you love him, that made you want him, and the thing that made you feel safe was his heart.

That was the only part of him you could understand. The way he cared. The way he loved. The way he could make anyone smile. The way he could bring light to anyone's dark.

That's what makes a man a man. And that's why you loved him.

Even now, with one eye, a missing hammer, and a lost kingdom, he was still your everything.

And now you were reunited after being separated again. The only problem was the circumstances.

You and Thor had been in an intimate moment. The relief of having you back in his arms, the adrenaline pumping through your veins from surviving such a tragedy, had you both desperate.

He had pinned you against the wall, his hands brushing your hair away from your face to get a better look at you before he pressed his lips to yours in a soft kiss. He was always so gentle with you. The teasing and playful nips at your bottom lip were proof of that.

But the sudden sight of a ship out the large window you’d stared out of moments before the kiss broke your concentration.

Thor had pulled apart almost immediately, the feeling of his beard no longer tickling your face, but the heat of his breath and the sweet taste of his lips was still there.

It didn't take long before Thor was following your eyes, seeing for himself what had pulled you from him.

A sense of dread washed over you when you noticed how he tensed and his grip on your waist tightened. This wasn’t another Asgardian ship; no, this was something far more dangerous. You could tell by the look in Thor's eye, his non-missing eye.

Then, within seconds, he grabbed hold of your arm and yanked you out of the room. Your heart was pounding as you started yelling questions at him, trying to understand what was going on.

But, when he hit the button that sealed the room you were once in and shielded you within his arms, the panic started to set in.

That's when everything began to blur.

You remembered the sound of explosions. The tearing of metal. The screams. The smell of burning.

It all came crashing down.

Loki had come around the corner, and seeing his expression, it didn’t take much to realize what was going on.

If Loki, the God of Mischief and Lies, was terrified, then that meant something big was going down.

Thor was yelling orders, shouting commands. You could barely make out what he was saying, but you knew he was telling you to stay behind him.

Stay behind him.

Always stay behind him.

Then it changed to get the hell off the ship.

Then, to run.

Run.

The last thing you remember was looking back as you sprinted down the halls, seeing your love, your other half, the king, the prince, the protector, your Thor, fighting some creature with his bare hands.

His face was so determined. He wasn’t going down without a fight. You ran to where he had told you to go, the escape pods where Val was helping others into. You got there and saw her eyes. They were wide and full of worry.

Something was wrong. Something was terribly wrong.

The sound of an explosion brought you back to the present.

Val grabbed you by the wrist and dragged you toward a pod. You could feel the adrenaline pumping through your veins and, your heart was racing so fast, and your breaths were short.

All you could think about was Thor. Where was he? Was he alright?

No.

He was not.

As soon as you entered the pod and Val had closed you in it, it was suddenly torn apart. The supposed sliding door had been ripped from its hinges.

The metal that you rested your back upon started to give, and the feeling of moving forward caused your heart to leap.

You were launched out and onto the floor.

It took a second to gain your bearings. You looked up and saw Val. She was fighting, and you were thankful to see her, but it was a short-lived relief.

The… thing she was fighting, the blue alien, grabbed hold of her and flung her across the ship. She landed somewhere near a pod and didn't move. You remembered screaming for her, but she didn't budge.

That's when the creature turned his attention to you.

You tried to move, but the metal that was supposed to hold the pod in place had you pinned.

You tried to pry the metal from your skin, but your weak and vulnerable body couldn’t break the bond.

The alien slowly moved towards you and, in a swift movement, had ripped the metal away.

He was so close, and you had no idea what was going on, who he was, or what his intentions were.

When you felt his large, rough, and cold hand wrap around the back of your neck, panic started to set in. You wanted to kick and scream, but all you could do was stare at the beast before you.

And thus, you were dragged away from the evacuation site and thrown into a separate area. You came to the conclusion that whoever this was, it seemed to be a metal bender or something similar due to his abilities.

All you saw was a demented blue face with squid-like features, staring down at you as he threw you around like a rag doll.

The fifth time he threw you, you landed roughly on the floor, causing your shoulder to make a loud crack noise and the pain to shoot through your body. Your hands landed on something soft, softer than the floor, and when you looked down, you realized the blue thing had thrown you into a room full of corpses.

But it wasn’t just any corpses. The one you had specifically landed upon had been the body of the man you had recently become close friends with, Thor’s friend, Heimdall.

Tears immediately pooled in your eyes, and your breathing became ragged. You tried to sit up and pull your body off of Heimdall in respect, but the pain shooting through your arm and back kept you frozen in place.

The lifeless eyes of the man who saw everything were open, and for once, he was staring at nothing. It was a haunting image.

The tears were now falling, and a sob escaped your lips. You wanted to curl up into a ball and cry. You wanted to scream and shout. You wanted to fight and claw at the alien that took until it bled. But all you could do was lay there, unable to move and weep.

Then, a voice caught your attention. It was deep, and it was coming from the alien that had brought you to this place.

His eyes were no longer focused on you, but they were somewhere else. He was talking to someone.

“Boss,” it spoke, his voice deep and gravelly. You couldn’t bear to look at the being. Not when you were face to face with the lifeless body of the gatekeeper. “There’s a human woman here. A pathetic one, no doubt, but one nonetheless. Should we end her? Or leave her to rot like the others?"

A silence filled the air, and you had no idea what was going on, who he was speaking with, or who was giving him instructions. You could’ve looked. You could have glanced up at the thing, and seen for yourself, but you too were afraid.

Your eyes remained glued to the golden ones that were once filled with light and wisdom.

There was silence, and then a loud, deep, thump. It had startled you, but it wasn't anything like the explosion of the ship, no, it sounded more like a boot or a shoe had come in contact with metal. But, it was loud enough to grab your attention.

You didn’t move. Your eyes didn't stray.

But, your body trembled in fear.

Suddenly, you heard his voice, and it sounded more terrifying than any sound that had echoed in the air prior. It was even deeper, and even more frightening than the other.

“I think not. We have use of her."

He had a deep and gravelly voice, but it was smooth. Calm. Almost friendly.

Then, a large, purple foot, appeared in your vision, and slowly, the purple being leaned down and stared at you. His gaze was strong, and piercing. You wanted to look away, but you couldn’t. You were too terrified to move, speak, or breathe.

Again, it wasn’t human. It was an alien. And a big one, at that.

He had no hair, only a helmet. His skin was purple and he wore strange looking clothing, including a golden glove that had both a bright purple stone and a blue one.

You’ve never seen such a creature before. You thought those dark elves were terrifying, but they were nothing compared to this man.

And for some reason, he was looking at you like you were an ant, and he was the boot that would crush you.

In fact, he was looking at you with pity, and it confused the hell out of you.

But, when his hand moved, and his fingers had touched the soft strand of your hair, you couldn't help but flinch.

The moment his fingers made contact with you, though, you heard a loud grunt. One that didn’t sound alienated or distorted. It was clear, and you could tell who it was, instantly.

Your head shot up, ignoring the pain in your arm, and the moment your eyes met his, everything stopped.

Everything.

It was Thor.

Your Thor. Your everything.

He was in front of you the entire time, and you had no clue.

The tears were falling. They were falling hard and fast, and you couldn’t stop them. And for once, it wasn’t because of relief.

Thor was encased with metal. His arms and legs were pinned by it. He was bleeding from his head, and he was covered in bruises.

He looked like hell and gave off the same energy.

He was struggling to free himself. That’s what the sounds were. The grunts, the heavy breathing, and the loud thumping. He was trying to get out of his prison to get to you. To save you.

The alien was staring down at you. His eyes were dark and intimidating, but his presence was even more so. He was the embodiment of terror.

Then, without any warning, he grabbed you by the throat.

It was an unexpected move. He had picked you up by the neck with just one hand. He had a grip so tight you couldn't breathe, and the pressure on your throat was unbearable.

You could hear Thor screaming. Yelling.

You could barely hear what he was saying. Your ears were ringing, and the pain of the hand wrapped around your throat was all you could focus on.

But, you could see him. You could see him perfectly.

You saw his blue eye and the patch that covered the missing one. You saw the stubble along his chin. The slight scar that was just below the patch. The wrinkles on his forehead.

You could see it all.

And the look of desperation and horror. It broke you.

You couldn’t take it anymore. It was too much.

Then, in the blink of an eye, you felt release.

You fell to the floor and started gasping for air. It was like the moment the alien released his grip on you, everything began again. The world, your thoughts, the chaos.

It was all there, and you couldn’t keep up.

“I see it now.” You heard the voice of the alien say. Your vision was blurry, and your eyes were still stinging from the tears, but you could make him out if only a bit.

He was now standing, towering over you, but he wasn’t looking at you. No, he was looking at Thor; his eyes were focused on the god, which sent a chill down your spine.

When dealing with Hela, you find yourself recovering with confidence. She could’ve easily killed you with a snap of her finger, but when she demanded your name, you had spat in her face and gave a smile.

Even though Thor wasn’t there at that moment, you somehow knew he’d be coming back to put an end to her, and you would be safe. It was like a sixth sense that came and made you stop panicking and running.

And, even though he technically didn’t put her down, he still was your knight in shining armor. It was the same with the dark elves and even with Loki.

They were all terrifying, yes, but somehow, you knew that Thor would save the day.

Now, though, it was different. You weren’t scared or panicked; no, you were terrified.

The fact that Thor was trapped and was physically in pain, the fact that Heimdall and more innocent Asgardians were lying on the floor, dead, and the fact that Loki was missing and Val was knocked unconscious, it had all hit you at once.

You felt like you were suffocating, and it only worsened when the alien spoke again.

“I was questioning why a mortal was amongst a group of Asgardians, how such a fragile being could survive so long among gods. I wondered, but I see it now. You have been blessed by one, and the last, of Odin's children."

The alien's attention was back on you, and the intensity of his gaze had you trembling. He was staring at you, looking through you, and reading you like a book.

"What a pitiful yet fortunate creature you are."

It was like the oxygen had been sucked from your lungs, and when he moved, you found yourself flinching and scooting backward.

He had leaned down again, and his large hand had grabbed the side of your face. The feeling of his skin on yours made your skin crawl, and the urge to vomit was growing.

Thor wasn’t having it. He was thrashing about; the metal that was encasing his body was bending and stretching with each move.

His cries of anger and the desperation in his eyes were heartbreaking. And it was only shut up by the alien who had taken you. A piece of metal flew to Thor’s mouth and held it in place, preventing him from yelling.

More grunts and muffled noises could be heard from the god, but you could no longer see him now. The purple man was blocking your view.

But, despite that, he was still talking to Thor.

"It is a shame, Thor Odinson. I take pity on the both of you, and I apologize, for it seems that fate has not been kind to either of you. But, we must make sacrifices. It is unfortunate that your beloved had to be one of them."

Then, suddenly, the alien turned his gaze back to you, and his dark eyes bore into yours. He was staring directly into your soul.

"Fear not, small child,” he said, his voice sounding almost calm. “You will not have to endure the pain and suffering as I did.”

The words that left his mouth did not give you comfort. It was quite the opposite.

Thor came back into your viewpoint as the purple man had moved, and when your eyes met his, all you saw was a mixture of panic and despair.

Thor's expression had you feeling a type of way. You could feel your stomach sink.

You weren’t dumb. You were far from it.

You knew where this was going, and your mind was screaming, screaming for you to do something, anything.

Run.

Fight.

Scream.

Just do something.

But all you did was stare. Stare at the man that you loved. The man that loved you. The man who had saved you countless times.

But he couldn’t save you now, even when you cried out his name in a soft voice, that frail, humane part of you begging him with your eyes to stop this from happening.

To stop it from hurting.

He couldn’t.

All he could do was look at you, look as you were taken. Look as you were pulled away from him.

All he could do was stare and scream.

It was the loudest, most horrific sound you had ever heard. It was worse than the explosion.

It was worse than anything.

It was the cry of a man who had just lost the last thing that gave him purpose.

It was the sound of a god being torn to pieces.

And it was all because of you.

That was the last thing you heard. That was the last image that burned itself into your brain.

The sound of Thor and his desperate screams was the last thing you remembered.

Everything after that was darkness.

No memories, no thoughts, nothing.

Just darkness.

All he wanted was you.

All he needed was you.

And now, all he had left was the memory of you: that and his broken heart.

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hyuckmov · 2 years ago

Text

haechan — gold-skinned, eager baby pt.2 read the first part here!

haechan x fem reader wc: 11k genre: fluff, smut 18+ minors dni warnings: chest/boobs/nipples fixation, dirty talk, fingering, oral (f recieving), unprotected sex, choking, finger sucking, blowjobs, handjobs, mirror sex, overstimulation, a little bit of dacryphilia (crying), hair pulling, dom/sub dynamics (haechan doing both), tittyfucking, thigh riding, this list is making me feel embarrassed minors dni i am so serious, breeding kink, a bit of saliva play i guess, aftercare , haechan is a mastermind male manipulator (in a cute way), me using mark as a plot device or: in which haechan is competitive (read: eager to please), and determined to find out what about him makes you lose all control

a/n: where do i even begin. writing this was so exhausting but also so rewarding at times but also i feel like i'm going to take a break from writing smut after this, i've literally written almost everything i could think of for this fic. i think what we liked from part 1 was haechan being needy and subby so i did add in scenes for that dw <3 i know i describe a lot of what they are thinking in this fic so hopefully it doesn't bore you... if it does... please sugarcoat it for me in your review (just kidding but also like...please don't be mean) anywayy... do send me an ask/reply if you liked this, as per tradition, i hope this is at least a little bit hot :) happy valentine's day!

haechan would say that his standard of living had increased exponentially since your second anniversary.

the two of you had become more open with each other, communicating your frustrations and needs more easily. there was also a faint buzz of something in the air, moments when you would look over at him and he would feel a blush spread across his cheeks, burn low in his stomach. it felt a little like he was falling in love with you for the first time — it had been a while since he had felt so vulnerable and loved by you.

"what are you thinking about?"

but perhaps the most significant improvement made to his life was the way he could now reflect on your loving and healthy relationship with his face nuzzled against your boobs.

"love you so much," he mumbles against your skin, placing a small kiss on your cleavage. "that's what i'm thinking about."

he feels your hand come down to stroke his hair gently, and he closes his eyes at the feeling. sunday mornings with you in bed: you scrolling through your phone while he's given the freedom to love on his favorite parts of you, have become just another routine that started ever since your second anniversary.

focusing on freckling kisses on your warm skin, he's then completely unprepared for when you card your fingers through a handful of his hair only to give it a light, but still significant, tug.

the sensation sends a feeling shooting down his spine, a slight shudder to his body as he lets out a small gasp muffled against your chest. feeling something stirring in the pit of his stomach, his legs twitching on the bed, he nuzzles his face into your chest.

"again, please," he mumbles.

he feels the giggles you let out at that right from where his face is pressed up against your chest. kicking his feet, he whines lightly in protest.

"what's so funny?"

"found something else you like," he hears you muse. "you're so sensitive, baby."

frowning, he sits up. the visual is slightly amusing — his hair mussed up, his lips swollen.

"it's not fair," he states. you reach out a consoling hand to him, and even as he continues to grumble, he still intertwines your fingers gently, a contrast between his unhappy tone and his tender actions. "you have too much power over me."

"what are you talking about?" you laugh, and he scowls.

"you know." he mumbles. "you can just flash your tits at me and i'd do anything you ask-"

"i can?"

"and now you know i like it when you pull at my hair," he whines, a permanent pout forming on his features. "it's like there's nothing i can do that makes you go crazy."

"that's because i love all of you," you soothe. "all of you makes me feel crazy."

"do you have any kinks you're keeping from me?"

"you're my kink," you tease, but your smile drops when he scowls. "sorry."

there's a pause. haechan looks at you, hard. scanning your face, his gaze doing a slow drag down and up your body, his expression darkening. something had shifted in the air, and suddenly you're a little scared to breathe too hard.

"haechan?"

"i'm going to find it," he breathes.

"what?"

"i'm going to find it, and then i'm going to make you beg for me to fuck your brains out."

"what the fuck?"

but haechan shakes his head, and when he next refocuses his eyes on you, his eyes have the familiar twinkle in them. moving over to you, he cups your face in his hands and plants a kiss on your cheek.

"love all of you too," he beams. "i'm going to go make breakfast, okay?"

and with that, he all but skips out of the room, leaving you sitting on the bed, feeling unsettled and also just a little bit excited.

the first time he tries it, it's a complete disaster.

it's not that haechan isn't good at observing you and what you like. when you go shopping together, he doubles back when you're not looking to take photos of items you've picked up to examine, making mental notes of their price and when he could get them for you. point something out to him, and haechan runs back to the store if you leave him alone for just a second, the bag hanging from his arm when he returns as he tries to hide how fast his heart is beating from sprinting. make an off-handed comment about how good a dish looks on instagram, and he's looking up the recipe before the video ends, and you can bet on the fact that you're having it for dinner the next day.

it's just that when it comes to him, he has no clue how to begin. you had laid out the perfect plan for him because you knew exactly what he wanted — meanwhile, he was starting from scratch.

so in the end his brain goes to the one thing you've told him you enjoyed. after all, considering how many times he's seen you fall apart on it, you must like his cock, right?

"y/n?"

"yeah?"

"why are you so far away…" he whines, exaggerating his tone a little. you're seated on the other end of the couch, head against the arm rest, your laptop perched on your lap as you work on something. at his words, you lower the screen a bit, peeking over the top of your knees with your eyebrows raised.

"what's wrong?" you frown. "are you okay?"

"come here and sit on my lap," he says quickly, before the embarrassment can get to him. "i missed you," he adds, patting his thighs for emphasis.

that evening, he had chosen to put on a pair of gray sweatpants that usually left little to the imagination. he didn't wear them often for that exact reason, not wanting to make you feel uncomfortable in any way. however, that was kind of at the top of his agenda right now.

shrugging, you make your way over to him, settling down in his lap with your back pressed against his chest. his chin rests on your shoulder as you open up your laptop again, typing in a few extra words on your document as mumble to yourself under your breath.

and then nothing.

haechan doesn't really know where to go from here. his plan had actually only involved one step: putting on the sweatpants. asking you to sit on his lap was already improvisation on his part, hoping that by getting you close he could hopefully get you to react. but here you were, sitting peacefully, happy in your boyfriend's warm touch.

unsure what to do, he figures he might as well get comfortable, bringing his arms around to hold your waist. feeling like this was turning out to be a complete bust, haechan sighs and buries his face in your neck, huffing a little as he wonders if he should just give up and spend a nice evening cuddling with you.

but then suddenly, haechan jolts. troubled by your slow progress at your work, you’ve started to absentmindedly fidget, wiggling your hips uneasily and even bouncing a little in his hold as you shift around some more. his arms reflexively tighten around you, his breath catching in his throat as he feels something stirring in his navel.

"y/n…"

"sorry." you whisper sheepishly, trying to keep still as you continue your work. but behind you, haechan is grinning as if christmas had come early.

"don't be," he murmurs, voice dropping an octave. gripping your hips again, he begins to move you on his lap so that you're grinding down on him. "keep going, sweetheart."

you bite your lip. you really wanted to pay attention to haechan, the sinful way he began to rut against you and the feeling of him slowly getting hard creating a soothing haze in your mind. "i can’t. my work…" you mumble.

haechan freezes, thinking to himself. you weren't giving in yet. he wanted you to beg him, but so far he had initiated almost everything. "okay," he breathes, settling back down and removing his arms from your sides, even though he could feel himself getting hard. "okay, i'll stop. focus on your work, baby."

confused, and a little worried — because when haechan wanted something he usually never stopped to get it, — you try to snap out of it. "maybe i'll go work in the bedroom…" you suggest reluctantly.

"sure," he replies, easily. crossing his fingers and hoping you didn't truly mean it.

but before he knows it, you're standing up, the absence of your weight on him making him feel doubly empty as you begin to walk unsteadily back to your room. a slightly sad expression on your pretty features, the tension in the air making it difficult for you to look at him.

it's the look on your face that makes haechan forget all about his mission.

"y/n wait-" his voice is high-pitched and breathy. he was more affected than he realized he was.

at the sound of his voice, you turn around. immediately putting your laptop down on the dining table, you all but run back to your eager boyfriend, skidding slightly on the floor. clambering back into his lap, this time straddling his waist, you smile as he leans in to kiss you, frustration making his movements a little rougher than usual.

punching him lightly on the shoulder, you glare at him for playing with your feelings. "did you really want me to go…?" nervously, you fiddle with the hairs on the nape of his neck.

"no," he says firmly, kissing you again and pressing you closer. "never."

you beam at him, happy you had such a sensitive and caring boyfriend. anyone else would have found your reaction laughable, but haechan just got you. it warmed your heart to no end.

"y/n…" pulling you back to the current situation, haechan gently thrusts up, reminding you he was still hard. "can i…?"

"yes," you say, excitement making your reply come out rushed and flustered. "please."

smiling to himself, he pulls your sleep shorts to the side, pressing his fingers hesitantly to the seat of your panties before he falters.

"you're so wet," he breathes, tugging your panties to the side too so he can stroke your folds with his long fingers. rubbing quick circles into your clit, he pulls you down by your shirt so he can kiss you heatedly.

holding on to him, you feel your thighs start to tremble, unable to hold yourself up with the feeling of his hand between your legs. as he runs a finger along your slit, rough fingertips sending jolts of pleasure up your spine, you lean your weight almost entirely on him. "please, -" you gasp, not sure what you were asking for, but somehow he's even more desperate than you.

a groan rumbles from his chest as he impatiently lifts you off his lap, maneuvering you so you take a seat on the couch. scrambling to kneel on the floor between your legs, he pulls you to the edge and pushes your legs upwards, practically folding your body. your feet planted on the couch, your breathing grows heavier and heavier as he tugs off your shorts and panties, leaving you completely exposed to him. the sight makes him moan out again, and he pauses.

"can i lick you?" breathlessly, and almost in a trance, he presses a kiss to your thigh, arms coming up to hook around your thighs and keep them open. "pussy's so pretty baby…" he murmurs, blowing air on your clit and making you tilt your hips towards his mouth. "i just know it'll taste sweet."

"don't tease," you plead. haechan's only ever done this a few times and on special occasions, usually more for you than for him. but when you look at the way his eyes are glazing over, his tongue peeking out to wet his lips hesitantly, you know he wants this just as much as you do.

"wouldn't dream of it." and with that he dives in, his tongue flat and wide as he licks up your arousal. alternating between flicking at your clit and lapping at your entrance, his moans fall from his open mouth freely, muscles in his arms flexing as he presses you further in the couch and tries to keep your hips from bucking up into him.

when you feel him dip his tongue into your tight entrance, your hands fly to his hair, curling on his strands around your fingers. the feeling going straight to his cock, he whimpers as he loosens a hand to ease a finger into you, his mouth suckling on your clit.

"haechan-"

"cum for me," his mouth detaches from you sloppily, and you swallow as you see his chin dripping with your juices, his lips wet with saliva. "wanna feel you cum on my fingers so bad…" dipping his head back down, he flicks at your clit harshly, his fingers pressing against your walls. you feel your back arch off the sofa as your thighs clamp down around his head, his tongue still working on you as you cum, hard.

your hips buck against his face and his nose bumps against your clit as he kitten licks at your folds, lightly overstimulating you as you ride out your high. pushing his head away gently, you’re just beginning to put down your legs when you're startled by his hand, shooting out to prevent them from closing entirely. grasping your thigh.

"please?" haechan's eyes are blown out and wide as he rises up on his knees, his hands trembling slightly as they move higher up your thighs. "i'm so hard…" you take in the way his hips absentmindedly move against the edge of the sofa seat. fully hard in those sweatpants, looking absolutely sinful the way he chases any form of friction.

"of course," you breathe, lying back on the couch as he enthusiastically tugs down his sweatpants, his cock slapping up against his navel, the tip red and leaking precum. propping himself up with a hand, the other gripping onto your waist, he closes his eyes as he slides in, the two of you letting out moans as you shiver from the sensitivity. before you know it, he's fucking you into the couch, whines falling from his lips freely, rising in pitch as his eyes screw tightly shut. you close your eyes too, reaching out to grab onto his shoulders, the feeling of him stretching you out pushing you close to your climax again.

haechan has completely lost all grip on reality. he feels your walls sucking him in, wrapping around him so tightly he can't even pull out properly. the rhythm of his thrusts jagged and needy, his hips rutting into you in a frenzy, he's only able to last a few more seconds before he's cumming, his hips stuttering as he feels you tighten around him again. his throat is hoarse, and he wonders if he was screaming instead of moaning. under him, you're also coming down from your high, smiling as you see how winded he is.

"you okay?" tapping him gently on the cheek, you give him a small kiss on his cheek as he blinks dazedly at you. "haechan?" you give him another kiss.

"yeah-" he mumbles. "fuck." he realises he's still pressed on you, so he gets up, giving you more space to sit up and breathe. as he collapses on the other side of the couch, he takes your hand in his and presses a kiss to his knuckles, lips still sticky. "was i too rough?" he murmurs, worriedly. "i'm sorry, i just really lost control at the end-"

"it was perfect," you assure him, crawling over so you can hold him. "i liked it," you smile.

his expression clears, and his eyes crinkle into a smile that mirrors yours as he kisses you sweetly on the tip of your nose. "you were perfect," his eyes sappy with love, he feels sleepiness overcome his body. "i'll run a bath and we can relax after, okay?"

it's only after the bath, and after the impromptu supper he makes for you, when the two of you are in bed, when he realizes that he's completely lost the plot. today's attempt had told him nothing, except maybe he was going to get addicted to the feeling of eating you out.

looking at your sleeping form in bed, a light smile ghosting on your lips and the glow of being taken care of by your boyfriend shining on your face, he shakes his head and decides that for now it doesn't matter. he'll figure it out eventually, he knew he would.

the second time haechan tries it, he starts out slow.

"your fingers are so pretty."

you're out running errands with him, and as the two of you stroll back to the car, his fingers brush yours and he takes your palm in his. now, holding up your clasped hands to examine his fingers, you smile sweetly at him. "i think you have really pretty finger joints."

"yeah?" it's a small compliment, but haechan always liked being praised, even for the smallest things. "thank you, baby."

he doesn't want to build any expectations for himself, or expect any reaction from you immediately. he's sure that that's what went wrong with the first attempt. did he really expect you to fall to his feet when you saw him in those sweatpants? it was silly. it was childish. haechan could do better than that.

he starts out by not taking off his rings when he's around the house, hoping that the sight of them on his pretty finger joints could stir something in you. so far, nothing. (although you did ask him if you could get another set of couple rings together. he said yes.)

he starts picking up activities which show off his fingers more. asking you if you wanted to watch him play the piano, or the guitar. still mostly nothing, although the activities did bring you closer together, his cheeks burning as you praised him for his talent.

happy that your boyfriend was sharing his interests with you, you asked him to help you with your baking, wanting to reciprocate with your own creative date-night ideas. he was nothing but sweet to you when you brought up the idea, accompanying you to the store for ingredients and helping you set up the kitchen. sure, he seemed to want to hold your hand throughout almost the whole thing, following you around the kitchen like a lost puppy, but once you assigned him to the task of melting the chocolate the two of you fell into a nice rhythm, his soft humming filling the kitchen as he busies himself with the hot water.

"is the chocolate ready?"

"yeah," he mumbles, lips pouting with concentration. he looks up to see you smiling at him, tilting your head in curiosity as you watch him stir the melted chocolate a few times.

and suddenly, he knows exactly what to do.

dipping two fingers in the chocolate, he holds it up to your lips. "wanna taste?" he asks, as casually as he can.

flustered, you swat his hand away gently. "i can do that myself," you try, shyly.

"come on," he urges you. his eyes, which have been zeroed in on your lips, flicker up to your eyes and you can see them glint. "just a taste," he says, softly.

inside, his heart is beating hard against his chest. although it was only the two of you in the kitchen, he could tell from the way you looked at his fingers that you were flustered, hesitating over the idea of sucking on his fingers so boldly. if he could just get you to do this…

he watches with bated breath as you swallow, inching forwards. grabbing his wrist to keep his hand steady, you stick out your tongue to lick at his fingers cautiously. you're just able to taste a hint of the chocolate, when haechan pushes forward and his fingers are enveloped in the warmth of your mouth.

"now come on," he breathes, a thrill running down his spine as he sees your eyes widen. gently but firmly, he continues to hold your gaze. "suck."

this was it. a smile spreads across his face as you begin to suck on his fingers obediently, looking up at him through your lashes. he'd won. except…he wasn't really sure anymore, what with the way your tongue was now swirling around his fingers as you continued to lick them clean. the feeling of it foreign yet familiar, making his breath catch in his throat as he’s reminded of the fact that it had been a while since you’ve sucked him off.

but while he was still struggling to figure out who had the upper hand, you already released his fingers with a pop, looking at him knowingly as you went back to measuring ingredients.

a pause.

shaking his head a few times to steady himself, he tried to stay confident, putting on his cockiest smile as he sidled up to you.

"y/n?"

"hmm?"

"did you like that?"

"like what?"

"you know what," he wraps a hand around your wrist to halt your movements, pushing your measuring scale and various other bowls to the side so you focus on him. "did you like sucking on my fingers?"

"haechan…"

"i felt what you were doing with your tongue, baby." he relishes the way you can't look him in the eyes. "i know you liked my fingers, but i didn't know you liked them that much…" he muses, voice low. a heavy hand snakes up to rub your waist. "wonder if you would like my hands somewhere else…" a flicker of need courses through his body as the words leave his mouth, his hands wandering up to your chest to palm your boobs. "or…" he trails off, biting his lip to try to keep his thoughts to himself.

confused as to why he had gone silent, you finally look up at him, feeling your eyes widen in surprise to see that haechan's demeanor had done a total shift entirely on his own. rather than the usual hard stare and stony expression that accompanies his low tones and rough touches, his lashes flutter with need, teeth tugging mindlessly on his lip as he is completely and wholly distracted by the soft feeling of your chest in his palm.

"haechan?" you prompt him.

"fuck, sorry-" he blurts out, unsure of what he was apologizing for. "it's just…", breathily, he scrabbles at your bra, tugging it down so he can touch your nipples. "they fit perfectly in my palms…" and there it is: the familiar pitch of his voice that tells you he's going to start whining soon.

you can't help but laugh at him, amused as much as you are in awe of him. "did you really just dirty talk yourself into this state?"

"yes. wait, i mean, no-" troubled, he furrows his brow as you begin to take off your shirt. "uh…"

"we can discuss this later," you soothe, leading him out of the kitchen, the idea of baking long forgotten.

1.12 am, haechan: don't get distracted by boobs. 1.12am, haechan: don’t look at boobs. 1.13am, haechan: don't touch boobs. 1.13am, mark: what the fuck ?????

“you taste good,” you murmur, touching his cheeks lightly as you lean in to kiss him again in the darkness.

eagerly, haechan sits up. you’re startled by the sudden movement, blinking at him blearily, but soon you’re being tugged up and into his lap, him rearranging your legs haphazardly so you’re straddling him as he leans against the headboard.

“what-?”

but haechan kisses you before you can finish your sentence, his remarkably soft and pillowy lips moving against yours with a soft fervor.

“feel good?” he asks, expectantly.

“yeah…” you mumble, a little dazed.

“used a lip scrub,” he states, proudly, kissing you again to punctuate the point. “and i’ve been using a lip sleeping mask for the past 2 days.”

“you taste like strawberry,” you point out, weakly.

“lip balm,” he breathes, almost buzzing with excitement. “you like?”

“yes,” you smile at him, endeared by how happy he was. you lean in, kissing him again, sucking gently on his bottom lip and making him sigh into your mouth. pulling away, you fail to notice the way his eyes light up in anticipation, only to flicker with confusion as you dip your head to snuggle into his hold. burying your face in his chest, you give him a gentle pat as you close your eyes, ready to return to the peaceful state of dozing off you were at when he had first kissed you goodnight. “sleep well, baby.”

his puffy lips, his puffy sweet strawberry-scented smooth lips, pucker slightly into a pout. “y/n?”

“hm?”

“you don’t wanna kiss me more?” he whispers, the words a little pathetic in the silence of the room.

“tomorrow, baby.” you assure him, stifling a yawn as you feel yourself drop off. “sweet dreams.”

sighing, he pats you gently on the back as if you were a baby, lulling you to sleep. this really wasn’t as easy as he thought it was going to be.

sweet dreams he thinks bitterly to himself, closing his eyes too.

all the thinking was taking a toll on haechan's brain.

he was good at games, he was good at strategy. but the thing was, this felt less like a game and more like an experiment: the observation required, the long-term planning, introducing new variables, and analyzing your reactions to see if his actions had the desired outcome.

he tried revisiting the hand thing.

"look at how pretty my fingers look around your neck."

he slides his fingers out from between your legs slowly, smearing your arousal on your thighs before coming up to steer your chin back towards the mirror. the image is so lewd that you want to look away again — you, wearing only his shirt. haechan's chest pressed up against your back, you sitting between his spread legs, your thighs propped apart by his own. one of his hands squeezes lightly on your throat as the other trails back down, two fingers stretching you out as much as he can.

choked moans fall from your lips as you shake in his hold when you cum, his rings digging into your throat. he releases you almost at once, letting you come down from your high as air floods back into your lungs, murmuring praises into your hair as he cleans you up, while you were too tired and hoarse to speak.

but that was that. you never brought it up with him or requested he do it again, although he knows that if he asked you wouldn't deny him. so he filed it away for next time.

he tried thinking of things he loved about you. he loved to kiss your neck — so he tried wearing necklaces, tilting his head back more to showcase his jawline, encouraging you to kiss him there. but the most you'd done was ask him if his neck felt sore.

it was a friday, and haechan decided to leave work early, to see if he could get a headstart on a new lead he had. you had stared a lot at his legs the other night when he had taken you out for dinner, saying they looked pretty in the skinny jeans he was wearing. if that wasn't a directive, he didn't know what was.

and so he made a short detour on his way home, stopping by the mall to pick out a pair of ripped skinny jeans. he liked the way they hugged his thighs, the slivers of soft skin that showed underneath.

that's how you find him, when you arrive home. standing in front of the bedroom mirror, scrutinizing his appearance in the mirror.

"i'm home…" you call out, before stopping. in the mirror, haechan can see your eyes widen and his heartbeat quickens with excitement. you're clearly distracted, unable to tear your eyes away from his legs. was this it?

meanwhile, you can't stop staring at your boyfriend. usually in sweatpants or baggy jeans, you haven't seen him dressed like this in a while. there are so many rips in the jeans he practically didn't have to wear them, and yet somehow they're positioned in a way that made you want to suck bruises onto his smooth skin.

your eyes flicker up to his, narrowing slightly when you see the expression of pure unadulterated glee that takes over his features. the corner of his lips quirked up smugly, his eyebrows raised in a challenge.

and it just flips a switch in you.

"did you dress like this for me?" you ask, softly. walking over to him, you tug him closer by the belt loops of his jeans, leaning in so your lips brush his. "did you want my attention that badly?"

haechan falters. this was not how it was supposed to go.

"can't think of an answer?" you mock. trailing your fingers down to his thighs, you scrape at the exposed skin there with your fingernails, making him jolt. "you were so confident just now, baby…" you pinch him, and he sucks in a breath. "what happened?"

"i…" at the sight of you tugging your shirt off, his splutters out in alarm. "wait! don't-" feeling stupid, but panic overtaking his brain, he squeezes his eyes shut. "don't take off your shirt."

you burst out into genuine laughter. getting more and more flustered by the second, he slowly opens his eyes, peeping a few times to make sure your shirt remains on. "don't make fun of me," he mumbles. "it's just that, i get really distracted if i see them, and-"

"oh i know," you assure him, kissing his cheek. "i mean, i was going to let you fuck them, but i'll just suck you off instead."

"what?"

he protests the entire time as you push him to take a seat on the edge of the bed, babbling on and on about how this was supposed to be about you. however, the moment you take your position, kneeling between his legs as you reach out to palm him through his jeans, he falls silent.

"these are new…" he mumbles, weakly. he can't help the way his hips begin to squirm under your touch.

"aww…" you squeeze him tighter over the denim and he whimpers. "bought them just for me?"

"yeah…" he admits, swallowing hard. "y/n…can you…"

you finish his thought by undoing the buttons on his jeans, tugging down the zipper as he lifts his hips obediently, tugging the material down to free his hard on. when he starts to remove his jeans entirely, you place a hand on his to stop him. grinning at him, you place a light kiss on his thigh.

"i really like these jeans," you explain.

you can feel haechan's eyes on you as if he were in a trance. looking up at him, you coo at the sight: his mouth hanging slightly open, drool spilling around his mouth from how he's been licking and tugging at his bottom lip from just the feeling of you touching him over his jeans. reaching a hand up, you wipe his saliva off with your fingers as if he were a baby, his tongue darting out to lick at your fingers. indulging him, you push them into his mouth: full, heart-shaped lips, wrapping around your knuckles as he sucks obediently.

extracting your fingers from his mouth, you comfort him with a pat on the cheek as slowly, and with a light touch, you start to rub at the pink tip of his cock with your wet fingers. the stimulation makes his legs jump, and he lets out a cry, hands scrabbling and twisting at the sheets. neediness seeping out from all the pores in his body, your hand becoming slick with his precum as you pick up the pace, giving him longer strokes along his shaft.

you look up at him, and his face is contorted with pleasure, eyebrows furrowed and eyes squeezed shut. his head thrown back, you can see his adam's apple bobbing as he gasps for air.

"do you like your reward, baby?" you tease, taking your hands off his cock to dig your nails into his thigh instead. the feeling makes him wail, eyes opening to focus on you, blinking away the spots in his vision.

he nods, still gasping for breath. "don't stop," he manages. "please, don't stop."

"i'll take care of you, baby, i promise" you ease, hands going back to stroke him, although at a much gentler pace. "keep your eyes on me, okay? i want you to think of this every time you see these jeans…" you take his tip into your mouth, pressing your tongue into his slit. and without any warning, his hips buck into your face and he's cumming messily, all over your mouth and chin.

"sorry," he moans, unable to control himself. "fuck, i'm sorry,-" his words are twisted into a loud cry at the sudden feeling of both of your hands on him. cum makes the slide easier as you twist your wrists in opposite directions, watching as haechan's whole body spasms — his movements jerky, grabbing at your arms to push you away while his hips continue to thrust forward into the pleasure. you feel a sense of excitement rush through you too as you survey how his thighs shake, muscles in his legs spasming.

"thought you told me not to stop," you bite your lip, putting on a confused expression. "i promised i'd take care of you."

haechan is too far gone to respond. tears begin to run down his cheeks as he cums again, globs of cum oozing from his slit. finally stopping your movements for good, you climb up onto the bed next to him, letting him reach for you and pull you close. his tears stain the shirt on your shoulder, and you run your hands through his hair to soothe him.

finally, his breathing evens out and he plants a soft kiss on your shoulder.

feeling a little guilty, you brush the hair out of his eyes as you try to read his expression. "are you okay?" you ask, softly.

he gives you a dopey smile. "yeah," he kisses you again, letting the feeling of your lips moving against his ground him. his hands ghost over your thighs, and he starts to pull you into his lap. "you want me to return the favor…?"

"no, it's okay." smiling at him, you cup his face in your hands before you realize that your palms are still filthy with drool and cum. "we should probably get cleaned up…" you murmur.

"i'm never wearing any other pair of jeans," he sighs, contentedly, letting you guide him towards the bathroom.

later that night, haechan is lying in bed, reflecting on what just happened. sure, he hadn't gotten you needy and desperate, and in fact he'd done all of the begging, but this was definitely a step in the right direction. it was the biggest reaction he'd gotten from you yet, one that was entirely initiated by you, his cheeks warming at the memory.

"haechan?"

"yes?"

"can we talk?"

"of course, baby." clearing his head of his thoughts, he pulls you in closer to him, heart warming at the feeling of you snuggling up to him. "is everything okay?"

"yeah," you say in a small voice. "but i wanted to ask you if you're okay."

hearing the soft concern in your voice, he tries to remember if he said anything to you about feeling upset, or unhappy, but nothing comes to mind.

"yeah i'm fine," he frowns. you look up at him with skeptical eyes, and he lifts a hand from where it's wrapped around you to stroke your hair, hoping to comfort you. "what's wrong?"

"it's just this whole…" you sigh. "you trying to find ways to make me feel good."

"is it too much?" panic starts to seep into his brain as he runs through the things he's done with you, and to you, these past few weeks. he's sure he made sure you were comfortable with everything, but there was always the possibility that you were appeasing him. maybe he'd gone a little too far with the choking. "i can stop if you want, i didn't think-"

"no, that's not it-" you interrupt, placing a hand on his chest. "i'm okay, everything's okay." moving up a little bit on the bed, you press a soft, close-lipped kiss against his lips. it takes a few seconds, his body still frozen with uncertainty, before he relaxes and kisses you back, deepening the kiss and holding on to you tightly.

"i just hope you know that i love you, so much," you say when he pulls away. "and, you don't have to do anything special to make me feel crazy about you."

"y/n…"

"i meant what i said that day," you insist. "i know i've mostly been in control recently, and you think i have so much control over you now…but i want you to know that even before our second anniversary i've been just as obsessed with you."

shyly, haechan bites his lip in thought, your words making him feel more flustered than he would have expected.

"see?" you continue. "i think you look so pretty when you bite your lip. and i love your hands…" you reach for his palms and place a soft kiss to his knuckles. "love your fingers, no matter what you're doing with them. love your legs, love your moles…"

"okay, okay." he buries his face into his pillow, a warm glow spreading through his body at your praise. "you can stop now," he murmurs.

"love all of you." you finish, burying your face in his chest again. "love everything you do, so don't worry, okay?" you mumble, sleep slowly taking over your body as a weight is lifted off your chest. watching haechan observe your reactions extra carefully has been endearing, and being on the receiving end of his constant affection has you dizzy in more ways than you show. you just hoped that his relentless attempts to please you and read your mind didn't mean he felt unconfident about how much you loved him.

but haechan doesn't respond. a sense of disappointment blooms in his chest, and he can't for the life of him figure out why he felt so forlorn. it had seemed so simple: he wanted to find out how he could have you needy and eager for him, just as he was with you. just like you had tested out his obsession with your boobs — and at the thought, his hand guiltily strays downwards to palm you over your shirt, needing at least some form of comfort on this confusing night, — he had tested you. and while you responded eagerly to whatever he did, there was no denying that you didn't usually initiate it, and he doesn't know if he would classify your behavior as needy in the way he wanted you to be.

maybe he just needed to tease you a little more. or maybe he needed to deny you pleasure just as you were about to cum. maybe, if he initiated it, and then suddenly left to do something else-

"you're thinking so loud, baby," he snaps out of it with a jolt, feeling you shift in his hold, your eyes opening groggily and a pretty pout settling on your lips. "go to sleep, please," you groan.

haechan lets out a groan of his own. "i'm confused…" he mumbles.

"about?"

but he shakes his head. you've already reassured him, and honestly he thinks he'll go crazy if he hears you profess your love to him again.

drumming your fingers on his chest, you hum lightly, thinking to yourself. "will you feel better if i let you fuck my tits?"

"yes please," haechan sighs, sitting up and shaking the sleepiness from his body before clambering over to straddle you, practiced hands pushing your shirt up.

and as he lets out a soft wail — feeling you licking at his tip when he thrusts all the way up your cleavage, his hands scrabbling for purchase on your soft breasts, — he almost believes he's okay with giving up this game he set for himself.

almost.

haechan spins the controller in his hand and waits for his next game to load.

he had let the whole thing fall from his mind. he'd gotten some pretty good sex out of it, and he felt closer to you than ever before, and that was all that really mattered in the end. now, he could actually focus on his favorite past-times without wondering what you were doing, could wake up each day and not stress over what he should wear. he was sure he would get over the disappointment, pushing the uneasiness from his mind completely as he slumps further down in his gaming chair and starts to think about how to get past his opponent instead.

faintly, he can hear the door push open behind him. you must have entered the room. "hey," he calls out. "i just started another round but i can come spend time with you after i'm done, okay?"

no response. weird, but maybe you were distracted with your phone.

"i was thinking," he continues. "do you want me to cook dinner or should we order in? i've been craving pasta but i need to know if you prefer mine or-" but he cuts himself off when he notices you hovering next to his computer, a large oversized shirt hanging from your frame. it's the look on your face that makes him forget everything about dinner or pasta or cooking.

"y/n?" he blinks. "what's wrong?"

"i need you," your soft voice whiny.

"um…" surprised, he's taken aback as you sit yourself down on his lap, straddling one of his thighs. he drops his controller clumsily, arms coming around to hold you as the game goes on ignored behind your back. "are you hurt? or is it…do you-" he sucks in a sharp breath when he feels your wet core moving on his bare thigh. you're not wearing anything except for the shirt.

you start moving, rolling your hips onto his firm muscle as if it were second nature, your eyes locking with his and he gulps at the desperation in them, pleading with your expression for him to help you.

"fuck, baby, what's gotten into you?" what should he do? panicked, he sits up in his seat, the movement making his thigh muscle tense and you let out a whine, your swollen clit extra sensitive at the feeling. "baby, not here," he coaxes, alarm in his tone as he wonders if you're going to cum right then and there. his hands going to your waist, he feels you press down harder on him, your moans increasing in pitch as you ride his thigh without a care in the world, egged on by the feeling of his skin on yours.

"baby, wait, get off for a moment, let's get on the bed," he tries to move again and it jostles you, and you roll your hips even faster.

"don't care," you whine. "need you now. wanna cum now…" tears prickle at the corner of your eyes. you're so frustrated that it hurts, you needed him so badly but it's like he'd forgotten how to touch you entirely. "haechan," you groan. "i need your fingers, anything…" the hot friction on your clit making you fall forwards, burying your face in his neck.

still flustered, haechan tries his best to help you out, wracking his brain of what to do. tensing his thigh muscles, he bounces you gently on his leg, one hand steadying you and the other scraping lightly across your nipples, just the way you like it. gasping at the sudden stimulation, you whimper in his ear to let him know you were close, your arms grabbing haechan's hands and guiding him to move your hips for you.

you cum just like that, a high whine and your body shuddering, haechan continuing to bounce you on his thigh to help you ride it out. as you recover, he realizes that he's winded and breathless too, the reality of what just happened sweeping over him.

but what exactly just happened?

"if you don't mind me asking…" he panted.

you nodded, still in your head. "yeah?"

blinking up at you politely, he licks his lips nervously before asking, "what did i do? and, how do i do it again?"

shaking your head you hug him before clambering off his lap. "like i said," you reassure him with a kiss on his cheek before you stumble off to clean yourself up. "i love all of you."

"you guys need to leave me out of your sex life," mark grumbles, the moment the call connects. "i want the best for you, dude, but i'm not that invested in your personal happiness, okay?"

haechan scoffs at that. "firstly, it's not like i'm not privy to your sex life. been a good boy for mommy recently?"

"i was just-!"

"and secondly," continues haechan, ignoring mark's splutters and protests, "you owe me."

"i owe you?"

"haechan's fucking obsessed with your tits…" he mocks in a clumsy voice, scowling at the memory. "you gave her an unfair advantage-"

"i don't sound like that-"

"so you owe me. now help me figure this out." before mark can think of some other way of protesting, haechan begins to ramble on and on about his feelings for you, and the dynamic in the relationship as of late. he analyses your reactions to him, the varied success in his attempts to get you riled up, your conversation together when you convinced him to drop the matter.

"but then, this morning i swear i'm just doing nothing-" he cuts himself off, feeling his breath hitch as the vivid memory hits him with full force. remembering how it sounded when you begged for him. the feeling of you moving on his thigh, of you guiding his hand to your core.

everything he ever wanted, and he had no idea how he got it in the first place.

mark is staring at him blankly. "this morning…?" he prompts.

"nothing," haechan shakes his head quickly. "basically, she kind of jumped me, and i'm still trying to figure out why."

"jumped you like in a bad way…or-"

"in a really good way," haechan mumbles, suddenly feeling a little shy. not wanting to describe exactly how it felt for you to use his body like that, when he wasn't even trying.

"okay, uh, cool." mark nods a few times, frowning slightly to himself. "you sure you were doing nothing?"

"i was playing a game in my room."

"could've been the gaming?" mark suggests, half-heartedly.

"but i do that all the time," haechan sighed. "she doesn't do that with me every time." if only it were that easy, he would have you figured out in 3 seconds flat.

"what were you wearing?"

"just some shorts and a shirt."

"could've been your thighs…?" mark tries. "she told me she loved your thighs."

"could be…" distracted, haechan blinks. "wait. my thighs?"

"yep," mark winces. "i won't quote exactly what she said, because i don't want to hear myself saying that to you, but just take my word for it."

haechan thinks about it, hard. but then he shakes his head. "fuck, i think i did it wrong. i mean i tried legs and it didn't work, and i thought thighs were included in legs for obvious reasons, but-"

"or maybe it just had nothing to do with you," mark shrugs, reaching for his drink to take a sip. "maybe she's just ovulating or something."

"she's just what?" haechan balks.

"um…ovulating." mark freezes, immediately wishing he hadn't brought it up. to hell with haechan's sex life. "it affects the hormones and it might results in a higher sex drive for her or-" he cuts himself off when he notices that haechan is staring at him, stock-still in his seat. "um…it's part of her menstrual cycle…?" mark tries.

haechan looks at him blankly.

"basically, it's like when her ovaries-" mark winces. "dude, i'm not about to explain your girlfriend's ovaries to you."

"but i can't ask her," haechan finally speaks up.

flustered, mark runs his hand through his hair a couple of times before deciding to just rip the band-aid off. haechan could be very persistent if he wanted to be, and he didn't want his phone blowing up with texts about this.

"basically, in the days leading up to her…um…her period, her hormones levels are messed up because her body's preparingforababy," mark rushes through the sentence, hoping to god his girlfriend wasn't currently standing outside his room, listening to him poorly explain what a woman's menstrual cycle was.

thankfully, haechan gets it on the first listen. "so she might be extra…"

"yeah," mark cuts in, feeling his face burn. somehow, haechan seems to be taking in this information extremely calmly, as if he were sitting in a life sciences class. "um, so, can i go now?"

"sure," haechan says, absentmindedly. "thanks mark-" but the call ends before he can finish the words.

slowly shutting the screen of the laptop, haechan stares at the empty wall before him and just thinks. could it really be that your neediness this morning wasn't a result of his doing at all? he tries to think back to previous months, because if mark was correct, this wouldn't be the first time this has happened: but for some reason, he can't recall a thing. he's always too lost in the feeling of you to ever notice things like what day it was happening on or whether it mirrored your behavior from previous months. scheming and plotting was truly not his style.

what exactly was he trying to do with this experiment? was he really trying to find a way to get to you just as you had to him? but he did have you just the way he wanted. this morning had proven that.

so what if he couldn't figure out if it was his hands or his thighs? you had promised all of you to him. said you loved all of him just the same.

so maybe it was time to make good on that promise.

haechan has been on his phone the whole day.

normally, you wouldn't really mind. he was so loving and attentive all of the time, that a little bit of absent-mindedness didn't bother you. it's just that today, you wish he were paying a bit more attention to you, especially because you can't seem to get him out of your mind - what with it being your peak day of ovulation.

the thing is, haechan was always somehow so attuned to you that he never left you feeling restless and needy. you rarely had to ask him for anything, because he would always deliver of his own accord — wanting you as much as you wanted him. it had been fun, in the weeks leading up to your second anniversary, seeing how riled up you could get him, and exactly how far he would go. even while he claimed to be doing the same to you, he was still the one to initiate everything, leaving you more than satiated afterwards, each time. and although his efforts had unsettled you, you'd eventually told him, hoping that it wasn't some underlying miscommunication or problem in your relationship causing the sudden eagerness to take you anywhere and everywhere.

and ever since, nothing. chaste kisses on cheeks, arms around your waist while you cuddled. somehow, subtly, control had shifted back to him as you waited on his next move, waited for the next time he would approach you to try something. you suspected he didn't even know that he had control, skipping around the apartment, unaware that you were practically begging for him to make a move.

this morning, you couldn't take it anymore. your dreams the previous night punctuated by visuals of haechan eating you out, of him letting you ride his thighs, of him playing with your chest. the moment you heard him in the next room, raspy voice ordering his teammates around, and the moment you caught sight of him in his shorts, you had decided to indulge in your own needs, to hell with waiting for your boyfriend to take care of you.

but almost an entire afternoon had passed since then, and you could feel the space between your legs getting wet again, your brain flitting back to the scenes from your dream. shuffling into your bedroom, you see haechan lounging on the bed, disappointment flickering at the back of your mind when you release he had put on some sweatpants instead. still on his phone, he barely looked up at you when you approached him.

"haechan?"

raising his head to look at you, he raises his eyebrows. you falter as you see his closed off expression.

"yes?" he responds, softly.

swallowing, you press on, sitting down opposite him. "can you…can you please…" you take a deep breath, fiddling with the edge of your shirt before you realize that yes, that was the perfect way to get him to notice you. removing your shirt quickly, you see him look up from his phone, his eyes flickering down to look at your bare chest, lingering slightly before moving back up to your face.

"can i please…?" he repeats, face devoid of expression.

you balk. haechan never acted like this with you. embarrassment, and a little bit of indignance, rises up in you, and you have to stop yourself from whining. "you know," you bite your lip, imploring him to understand.

he sighs. "speak in full sentences, baby." going back to his phone, he clicks on a new tab. "i can't read your mind."

"i need you," you blurt out, feeling delight rush through your body as he looks up at you. finally.

but he makes no effort to move. "why?"

confused, you make an impatient sound. "what do you mean, why?"

"why are you suddenly so needy?" he asks, voice steady and calm. his eyes stare at you, gaze unwavering. "was it something i did? or did something happen to you?"

"i don't know what you mean…" you hesitate, but your answer doesn't mean anything because he's not really listening. setting his phone down, he pushes you onto your back with a slight roughness, crawling over to you.

"thought i was doing it for you, baby-" he confesses, quietly. "trying to figure out if you liked my fingers, or my thighs…seeing if you liked it when i use you…" towering over you, he takes in the tension in your body, your shaky breaths as his fingers trail up your stomach, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

"but i was wrong," he muses. you hang onto his every word, mind attuned to the syllables falling from his lips, body sparking at his slightest touch.

"haechan…"

"was doing it for me," he breathes. "i wanted to see you this fucked out before i even touch you." his hand caresses your upper thigh, tutting lowly under his breath. "messy baby, dripping all over the sheets…"

unable to take it anymore, you try to sit up and move towards him, pushing your body up on your elbows, but haechan's hand whips out and he shoves you back down onto your back with a firm palm.

"don't move." he soothes, but there's a warning in his tone. slowly, he eases your legs apart to settle down in between them, and you whimper slightly from how he manages to make you feel so exposed.

"when was the last time you'd been good for me, hm?" his thumb traces soft circles on your soft skin. "i give you a little bit of power and it goes to your head…doesn't it, pretty?" his face leans closer, his lips almost brushing yours as he speaks.

"it doesn't-" your voice trembles, as his palms press down firmly on your thighs, spreading you open wider.

"have me touching your tits, stroking you all the time," he breathes. "does it feel that good?"

"i-"

"thought you were letting me use you, but all this time you were using me," he ignores you. "all i wanted was for you to sit on my lap and beg for me…" suddenly, his hand moves, and you feel a sharp sting as he flicks at your clit with his thumb and forefinger over your panties. a loud whimper leaves your mouth as you feel your thighs jerk, and embarrassingly more of your arousal seeps out onto the sheets. your hand reaches out, trying to hold on to his wrist so he stops teasing you, but gently, and almost lazily, his other hand manages to grasp both your wrists in his hand.

"but no matter what i tried…" he continues, and you can tell he's saying it for himself more than you. his hand moving as if on instinct, his fingers beginning to stroke your folds over the fabric, paying no attention to the way you trembled and squirmed at his touch. "you would still sit there on the couch, waiting for me to come take you…"

"i'm sorry-" you sob, your throat closing up.

"you're so spoiled." and for the first time this evening, he kisses you lightly on the corner of your lips. you tilt your head, trying to catch his lips with yours, mouth open and ready, but already he's pulling away, smiling to himself. "spoiled." he repeats.

"haechan please-" you try to free your hands so you can do something — touch him, or even touch yourself. "i need-"

"you need me to fuck you?" he tilts his head, the harshness of his words contrasting with the gentle, and almost mocking way he says it. "is that what you want to say?"

shame burns low in your stomach, and you nod imperceptibly. mirroring you, haechan nods too, his eyebrows raised.

"say it," he insists. "say you need me to fuck you."

"i…"

at your hesitation, he backs away slowly, the warmth of his body leaving yours as he starts to slacken his hold on your wrists. immediately, your hands shoot free and you pull at the hem of his shirt pathetically, trying to keep him close to you.

"i need you to fuck me," you whine, trying to hold your gaze with him even as his eyes go dark. "please, don't go-"

"how long were you going to make me wait?" he seethes, flicking at your clit again, fingers roughly pulling at your panties and making them snap against your skin.

you can't think of anything to say. you whine his name, and he scoffs at how wrecked you sound.

"why didn't you tell me your body wanted a baby, hm?"

you freeze. what? "you m-mean…" you stutter, as haechan begins to tug your panties down your legs.

"needy baby fucks herself on my thigh because she wants a baby in her, is that right?" his voice thick.

"yes," you hear yourself say. there was no point in denying it, you needed him so badly. and the idea of him putting a baby in you, of fucking you so full of him until you were swollen and full…

"then prove it." sitting back up against the headboard, you follow him eagerly, no longer caring about how you acted around him, your skin burning hot from the way he was speaking to you. he let you strip him of his sweatpants, your mouth going dry at how hard he was. maybe you could suck him off first, and in return he could finger you-

a rough hand shoots out to grab your chin, forcing you to look up at him. "focus," he demands. "i want you to ride me."

hurriedly, you start to straddle him, lining his cock up to your entrance before you hesitate. he hadn't really prepped you yet, and although you wanted it so badly…

you cry out as he shoves two fingers into you, sighing at the way you fall forward into his chest at the feeling. curling his fingers in you, finding your soft spot effortlessly, he murmurs close to your ear. "tell me if i'm being too rough, okay?" if possible, his words make you even more needy, and you nod, hips chasing his hand. "don't wanna hurt you," he mumbles, before stilling his fingers and pushing you back.

"why am i doing the work here?" he muses, condescendingly. "i thought you wanted this."

nodding vigorously, you begin to grind on his fingers, whimpering when your clit bumps the heel of his hand. a hand on his chest to steady yourself, you move the other downward and try to shove a third finger into you, wiggling your hips as he relents and starts curling three of his fingers against your walls.

"cumming," you gasp, feeling something tighten in your core. his thumb comes up to stroke your clit, and you're about to tumble over the edge, when suddenly he yanks his hand away, leaving you throbbing and empty. a sob rips out from your chest, the built up pressure of having him act differently around you, of needing him for the whole day, washing over you like a tidal wave.

"crybaby," he coos, wiping your tears away with the hand still slick with your arousal.

"please," you choke out. "cum, i wanna…let me…" pawing at his chest, you try to lift his hand back up and guide it in between your legs, but he grabs onto your wrist instead, forcing you to stay still.

"just want you to cum on my cock, that's all," he soothes. "don't you want me to fill you up?"

gulping, your breathing slows as the words seem to calm you. "yes," you mumble.

"good girl." grabbing your hips, he eases you down onto his cock, groaning as your walls spasm around him, your entrance fluttering uncontrollably. "fuck," he muses. "did you just cum?"

feeling humiliated, you nod reluctantly. "was sensitive…" you mumble. he laughs, stroking your cheek as you take all of him. he gives you time to recover, stroking your back tenderly as you get used to the feeling of him in you.

"ready?" he urges, thrusting his hips gently.

you nod, placing your hands on his shoulders as you begin to bounce in his lap, your thighs still shaking from your previous climax but the feeling of him too good to ignore. trying to pick up the pace, you stare at where your bodies are connected, the wet sounds of you sliding on him embarrassingly loud in the room. you only realise you've been letting out a steady series of moans when he brings a hand up to squeeze your throat.

"tired?" he pouts at you. you nod, begging him with your eyes to take over. "thought you said you wanted my baby," he mocks. your hips continue to circle even as you lose the strength to lift yourself up and down. feeling his tip brush against a spot inside you, you wail as you feel yourself clench hard around his thick length.

"please help me," you gasp. "wanna feel you cum inside me, want you to fill me up-" and haechan, tired of waiting, finally gives in.

he pushes you back onto the bed again, his arms pushing your legs up so they brush his shoulders, hips tilted towards him as he rams himself back into you. letting out a low moan, he begins to thrust hard into you, snapping his hips such that the blunt head of his cock repeatedly brushes your g-spot.

"you gonna cum?" he mocks, sarcastically. "or do i have to do that for you too?"

your hands find your clit, rubbing circles on it frantically as it immediately brings you to your high.

the feeling of you cumming around his cock, your warm and tight walls milking him, pushes him closer and closer to his own climax.

"where should i come?" he breathes unsteadily.

you don't respond, still too lost in your own pleasure. a hand comes down to pinch at your nipple, and you whine incoherently.

"where should i come?" he demands again.

he can see you struggle to piece together the words in your head. he hadn't asked you this in a long time — ever since your first anniversary, when you went on birth control and he celebrated by finishing inside you, the feeling of you raw making him come undone faster than he would have liked.

"w-where?" you make a sound of confusion.

"should i come on your tits," he pinches your nipple again,

"on your face," a light slap across your cheek,

"or inside?"

"inside," you moan, beginning to thrust your hips upwards to meet his movements, desperate for him to finish.

"good girl," he breathes, and with a final stroke he's cumming, pushing deep inside you as you feel his warmth fill you up inside, seeping out where your bodies connected.

the two of you stay like that for a while, him stroking your hair and peppering kisses on your face. you holding on to him for comfort, whimpering whenever he made an attempt to leave, burying your face in his chest. it's after you've mostly recovered when you finally let him go get something to clean you up with, and after you drank the glass of water he insisted you have, when you finally get a hold on what just happened. and a question comes flitting into your mind.

"haechan?"

"yes, baby?" you open your eyes, and squint at the angelic expression on his face. "tell me…mark didn't have anything to do with this, did he?"

tags: @91qowngus, @joonpantheress, @sundhaelatte, @jaemboi64, @sassy-author, @krazy-kpoppy, @9900z, @kosmoreads, @matchahyuck, @donghyeok-okie, @bbh-kji, @isearchedtheyooniverse, @bettyschwallocksyee, @babyjenono, @prdshobi

#haechan smut #haechan imagine #haechan au #haechan scenario #hyuck smut #fic: gold skinned eager baby pt.2

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