#what other country would give him this kind of power?

[withlibertyandjusticeforall]

Trump will declare martial law this year. So he can have the kind of power he craves.

Whether from "immigration" or upheaval (which may be manufactured, Reichatsg Fire-style)

[nikibogwater]

Actually while I'm thinking about it, I just wanna say that the more live-action remakes Disney shlups out like shoveled manure, the more amazed I am that Cinderella (2015) exists. It breaks literally every standard of Disney's LA remakes.

It's not a shot-for-shot remake of the original 1950 animated film, though it does include small references and homages to it, but only when such things can be incorporated organically into the story.

The creators understood and respected the cross-cultural significance of the Cinderella story. They didn't want to "fix" it, or add some wacky twist to it, they just wanted to make the best possible version of the Quintessential Cinderella that they could.

Everything that could be done practically was done practically. The carriage was a real, the horses pulling it were real, and all of the other animals (with the exception of the mice and lizards, since their performance was a lot more involved than the others') were real living animals, the lizard footman and goose carriage driver were wearing prosthetics instead of just having their animal features added in post, the Fairy Godmother's dress had little LED lights sewn into it so that it would actually glow for real, the ballroom set was built by hand and included real chandeliers with more than 2000 total candles that were all actually lit for the scene, and I could go on but you get the point.

There's a ton of attention paid to little details that make the world feel real and lived in. Ella's shoes are always a little scuffed and dirty. Her farm dress is faded and wrinkled. When she breaks down and runs away to the woods, she rides her horse bareback (which, once again, was a thing Lily James actually did, no stunt-double or editing in post), because not only is that something a country girl like her would know how to do, but it also makes sense that with as upset as she is, she wouldn't want to waste time with saddling the horse. When she's dancing with the prince, it's visually obvious that he is leading her and giving her cues because of course Ella wouldn't know the latest ballroom dances, and would need him to guide her through it.

Hey speaking of dancing, y'know what else this movie does that no other LA remake has been allowed to do (at least not to this extent)? ROMANCE. Land sakes alive, this is one of the most unabashedly and yet still tastefully romantic movies I've ever seen. Ella and Kit are just oozing romantic chemistry from the moment they lock eyes for the first time. It all comes down to the fact that these two characters both have the same core values of courage and kindness, which makes their admiration for each other feel grounded and believable. Richard Madden also really sells Kit's feelings for Ella with the way his eyes go all big and soft whenever he looks at her. And don't even get me started on Lily's performance as Ella. Her quiet awe that someone as powerful as the prince loves her. The timidity and fear that she's not really worthy of that. The selfless determination to protect him from her family's cruelty, even if it means she'll never see him again, I'm just-- *banging my fist against the table and screaming into a pillow*

Absolutely god-tier costume design. No notes, I think Sandy Powell's work speaks for itself. Btw, in case you were somehow still wondering, yes, Ella's ballgown is fully practical--those layers upon layers of dreamy silk skirts are real. CG was only used to brighten up the blue color to make her stand out from the crowd more.

Wicked stepmother was allowed to actually be wicked. The movie never tries to make you sympathize with Lady Tremaine, or shift the blame off to someone else. And her villainy is given an extra layer of depth with the reveal that she is a dark reflection of Ella. They've both lost people they loved, but where Ella refused to let her grief get in the way of kindness, Lady Tremaine became utterly consumed by it. She views the death of her first husband as a sort of twisted justification for pursuing all her worst impulses. She despises Ella for her ability to flourish even while enduring terrible suffering, for being everything Lady Tremaine was either unable or flat-out refused to be.

Also Cate Blanchet absolutely SLAYS in this role. Hands-down my favorite portrayal of the wicked stepmother character.

Anyways, TLDR: Cinderella (2015) is the only Disney live-action remake that can justify its own existence and that's because it actively defies everything the LA remakes are today.

[heavysighing-dreamyeyes]

Trinkets

Five presents Jason brought you back from his adventures and one you asked for. (+ one) ~1.2k words of fluff

Jason Todd brings you home gifts from his missions, which wouldn't be a problem, but he never really explains what they are.

The first time it happened, you had laughed at the green ring with a lantern symbol in the middle. It looked cheesy, like one of the fake ones you can buy from the superhero merch stores littered around malls and outlets.

You'd kissed his cheek in thanks, put it on your shelf, and never gave it a second thought.

At least you didn't, until a bright green glow woke you up from your sleep. You'd sat up immediately, jaw practically dropping to the sheets as the ring lifted itself off your shelf and flew out the window.

Jason barely budged, his arm still thrown over your waist. He let out yawn and cuddled closer before speaking, voice groggy and heavy, "Huh. Didn't think they noticed that one was gone."

"They," You half yell, voice pitching as you stare at his outline, hidden in the shadows of the room.

"The Guardians, babe," he yawns out, "They're in charge of the space cops. Just go back to sleep."

Naturally, you do not go back to sleep. You drag him to the kitchen, make tea, and demand he explains why a Green Lantern ring was in your apartment. (He's very happy to)

The second time it happens, you're much more wary of the gift he brings home. But to be fair, he can't really pass off an Amazonian steel sword as something he just picked up.

It doesn't take as much convincing as it should for you to let him mount it on your wall. But it's a sword! No one can blame you for thinking it looks cool in your living room.

It turns out keeping it around is pretty useful, because a few weeks later, your boyfriend crawls through your window, dressed head to toe in armor.

"Hey, doll," he drawls, "Can I borrow your sword?"

"Sure," You chirp back, more preoccupied with your book as he saunters over to the sword, "what for?"

"Artie's got confiscated, and we haven't gotten to steal it back yet," he supplies, stopping long enough to pull his helmet up and kiss your head.

"Oh, that sucks," You answer, offhandedly, "Give her and Bizzaro my love."

"You got it, babe," he chirps already halfway out your window.

He does bring your sword back, covered in green blood, but no worse for wear. It still looks great on your wall.

He brings you a box next. It's kind of ugly looking, but you thank him nonetheless.

"Be careful with it," he tells you as you flip it over in your hands, "It opens boom tubes."

You almost drop it, and if you hadn't already experienced the power ring, you would have shrieked at him. Instead, you manage to put it down very carefully and calmly ask, "It does what?"

"Open boom tubes," he answers, which clears absolutely nothing up, "I figured we could use it to country hop for our next date night. You know, dinner in Paris, drinks in Dubai, dessert in LA."

"Okay," You answer slowly, as if that makes complete sense.

It turns out, it does. Date night is lovely, and making out with your boyfriend on a random beach in Spain is very, very nice.

Batman waiting in your apartment to take back the boom box isn't so nice, though.

Jason tells you it was worth it. He's absolutely right.

The third thing Jason brings you is a plant. Flowers aren't a rare show of affection from him, but ones that move are.

"Uh, thank you, Jason," You start, prodding at the moving petals, they nuzzle your fingers the same way a kitten would, "But I don't know how to take care of these."

"Same way you take care of any other plant, water, fertilizer, nutrients, all that fun stuff," he says fondly, stroking a few of the petals.

"What if it gets sick," You ask, uncertain.

"We'll call Ivy," he says, unbothered.

"Right. Ivy. Poison Ivy. Who you know," You mumble, but the little plant is already worming its way into your heart. (You affectionately name it Daisy, for no other reason then it sways happily when you say that name)

The fourth thing Jason brings you makes you laugh because you know exactly what it is, "Jason, we can't keep this."

"Why not," he pleads, shaking the bright green quiver filled with arrows at you.

You giggled harder, smiling wide as you shake your head at him, "We don't even know what those do. Don't some of those explode?"

"So what," he huffs, practically pouting, "We can ask Roy. And it's not like I don't know my way around explosives."

"I guess so," You relent, trying to stifle your laughs as you inspect the bright green arrows, "How did you even get this?"

His eyes light up mischievously, "Do you really want to know?"

You stop short and narrow your eyes at him, "I would lose my plausible deniability."

"But you wanna know," he says, sly and playful.

You do. (It involves mutated chickens, tar, and one distracted Oliver Queen. You hang the quiver next to the sword)

Jason's getting ready to leave, bags packed and helmet lazy held under his arm, "Can I bring you back anything specific, doll" he asks, his free hand resting comfortably against your cheek, "Lasso of Truth? Maybe something with magic?"

You grin at him, leaning into his touch, "I actually do have something in mind."

"Oh," he prompts, eyes glinting with excitement.

"I want to complete my batarang collection."

He falters, "Your– what?"

"No one has," You exclaim, pulling away to showcase your collection, "I have Nightwings, Batgirls, Batmans, yours, of course, one of Robin's. But I'm missing Spoilers, Batwomans, Signals, and Red Robins."

He blinks at you, "That's– if that's what you want."

You giggle at how dumbfounded he looks, practically bouncing back over to him to kiss him, "Thank you, Jason."

He catches your waist and pulls you back in for another, longer kiss that leaves you both breathless and panting. His voice lowers, like it's a secret, "I'll bring you back some batarangs. See you in a few days?"

"See you in a few days," You echo, and he winks at you as he tugs on his helmet, leaving out your window.

Sure enough, you get your batarangs when he gets home. It takes some convincing, a few kisses that leave you senseless, but you get Jason to help you mount your batarang collection alongside the sword and quiver.

"I should get you a plasma rifle next," he drawls, admiring your growing wall of weapons.

"I think I'd fall over if I tried to shoot one of those," You point out, all smiles.

"I'll teach you," he tells you, hooking an arm around your waist to draw you closer.

Jason's a man of his word, and sure enough, he brings you home a plasma cannon after his next mission.

You only destroy most of the shooting range in the batcave when he lets you try it out.

[nmakii]

inspired by @kaislvves’s bastard post… ps: i acc love dior sauvage its my scent for when i go to school but its so strong HAHAHAHA

kaiser’s cologne has an overwhelming scent. not just in a way that two sprays could fill the entire bastard münchen cafeteria in his scent, but also in a way that lasts. his scent lasts on for a week before it finally wears off.

what’s his scent? dior sauvage, the scent of liars. kaiser likes the overwhelming presence of its’ scent; it’s as powerful as he is.

he loves to spray his cologne all over your closet and clothes, making sure that whatever you wear, and whatever perfume you try to wear to overpower it, you end up on the other side smelling of him.

it’s adorable how you spray on your 70 euro hermès perfume, checking out your outfit in the full-body mirror in your bedroom, before you’re coughing and choking on his overwhelming scent.

“mikka!” you shout out. “stop spraying your perfume on my clothes, it’s so strong!” you frown. his attention is finally raised away from his phone when he finally looks up to you, small circle-framed glasses starting to slide down his nose before he pushes it up with his middle finger.

“why should i? i like doing it.” he simply states. that’s just how he was; how he was raised— if he wants something, he must do everything to take it. likewise, if he wants to keep something, he has to make sure no one else steals it.

and with a job that forces him to almost always be out of country, he can’t help but worry about his rose. what if another piece of trash tries to flirt with you while you’re vulnerable? the overwhelming, almost sickly scent of citrus and pepper would be enough to tell them to back off; you’re already taken by another man.

“yeah; well, i don’t like it. it always lingers for too long.” you explain. and to kaiser, your explanation is moronic. “…that’s the point of a cologne; to linger.” he bluntly states. you roll your eyes at his smart-assed response, and scoff, “ugh— duh, but it stays on for days!”

kaiser only shrugs. “good. everyone knows you’re taken.” he’s quite adamant to telling the media what fragrance he uses. it’s odd, but he always encourages his interviewers to smell him in at least one point of the interview, giving him the chance to comment on his fragrance. it’s become a bit of a meme in his fandom that he wants to get sponsored by dior. but, no.

this isn’t about money.

it’s about everyone knowing his scent.

like a wolf marking his territory, kaiser leaves his scent on what he owns. and what he owns is you; your heart. it’s not enough that you love him with your heart as much as he cherishes you— he needs others to feel him spiritually when you’re nearby.

“this is stupid, mikka. none of my perfumes linger anymore cause of your dumb sauvage.” you scoff. and, kaiser stands up from his place in the bedroom, moving behind you. his overwhelming height makes for an awkward position when he rests his arms on your shoulders, and his jaw on your forehead. he stares at the reflection in the mirror, admiring of his and your beauty. the glint in his eyes is dangerous— as dangerous as the cheshire grin he proudly displays before he completely destroys an opponent in a match.

“would you want different kind of physical marking then?” he asks. his fingers delicately ghosting to touch the ticklish parts of your neck.

“…no.” you roll your eyes. kaiser sneers.

“then, you’ll have to stick with the cologne.”

[hetalia-club]

Somthing I love about Hetalia is we all just accept anything he gives us. Like he just randomly decides that in the MAIN manga he’s just going to start doing a mafia AU out of nowhere with no transition or announcements that it will be driving away from the main “plot” for a bit plot is in quotes because we all lost the plot long ago. Then he invented a card game to go with it and we are just all like “yes understandable more please” I simply cannot imagine joining this fandom in todays age I would be so confused what the show even is lmao. Like “Yes they are countries. But sometimes they are high schoolers, sometimes they are just like guys hanging out, Santa is real and one of them is Santa but he’s also a country and also not Santa only sometimes, sometimes they are in the mafia playing a card game about themselves and the rules are kind of hunger games-ish where they are playing to move up in power with the other districts and it’s implied better districts have access to better things but they are still countries just also leaders of gangs but the gangs are the country, One of themselves has a best friend who is an alien, and just so you know animals can talk but not all animals and they can only talk to the countries who own them and other animals. Mythical creatures are real and only some countries can see them like Americas pet unicorn that he cannot see and England friend flying mint bunny that only he can see & Norway has head set that only trolls can call him on, sometimes they are all gender swapped and all of the gender swapped versions have their own personality and human name, oh right human names! They all have 2 names the county name and human name and if you don’t learn them quick you won’t have any idea what half of us are talking about, don’t even get me started on 2!p it’s them but slightly edgier and yes they all have their own separate names that you should at least learn the main 8s version of, other times they are all cat- why did you cut me off? What do you mean you are confused? What’s not clicking? Hua fine let me start over. It all starts with the tomato box fairy and Mr. stick…..Hey! Where you going? Come back I haven't even told you how some of them are related, but also not really, but also yes they totally are!"

[qqueenofhades]

been seeing some responses to the many many lawsuits and other actions taken against trumpet and munkfruit that fall along the lines of "this isn't enough, it's already too late, you can't fight fascism with the law, we're all gonna die." i understand the fear, truly, but i'm curious as to your thoughts on it, as to me it seems like this sort of behavior/posting doesn't do much beyond embolden the narrative that everyone actually likes these bastards and they're too powerful to be stopped.

Welp. This is the kind of question that requires me to write a long and complex sociopolitical/critical/historical/Discourse-esque analysis that will take a while and which I am trying to do only selectively, but I'm at home on Saturday morning, I don't have anything else to do right now, and it does present me an opportunity to address some things I've been thinking about. So. We'll give it a shot.

The first thing that has struck me is that in a few short weeks, we're getting a sharp empirical disproving of two common online-leftist fallacies: one, the old "both parties are exactly the same" chestnut, and two, "the only resistance that matters is Violent Glorious Revolution" (which somehow and conveniently never happens). We had months and months of "Biden is just as bad as Trump!!!" being spread as gospel truth in online-leftist circles, and then when Harris took over, it switched just as seamlessly into "Harris is just as bad as [or even worse than] Trump!" Now, as I have said before, there were plenty of legitimate criticisms to make of Biden, particularly the Gaza policy (upon which Harris notably differed). But it's quite telling that the keyboard warriors who spent all of last year howling for The Righteous Punishment of Biden-Harris (regardless that the obvious ancillary consequence was letting Trump come to power) have either disappeared completely when it comes to dealing with the results of that rhetoric, or have switched to "everything is doomed so I guess we shouldn't bother anyway." Like. Trump is now proposing to fully ethnically cleanse Gaza and either blithely hand it over to Israel or build Jared Kushner Beachfront Resort Disneyworld, and what do we hear in protest? For the most part, crickets. These are not serious people. Their opposition is not morally consistent, and it only depends on how they can make themselves look good. I thought that Trump was somehow supposed to be magically better than Biden particularly on the Gaza issue, and that was why it was worth letting him get elected? Or something? Something!?!

I'm curious as to whether those people still legitimately think that Harris would have spent her first few weeks in office dismantling USAID, signing weekly anti-trans executive orders, unleashing ICE across the country and terrorizing immigrant communities, putting the Project 2025 guy in charge of the Office of Management and Budget, letting Elon Musk run rampant with Treasury data, nominating the likes of RFK Jr. and Tulsi Gabbard to Cabinet posts, trying to freeze all federal funding, stripping DEI initiatives, dismantle the Department of Education -- etc. etc. The thing is, as ghoulish as it is, none of this is a surprise, because it is literally what Trump and his people spent the entire presidential campaign loudly, openly, and repeatedly promising to do. However awful they were and are, they were not remotely secret about their intentions. That information was out in the open every time they opened their mouths. But too many people didn't pay attention, rationalized it away, decided that "he won't actually do that" (despite the fact that he launched a literal violent coup attempt on the Capitol the last time he was in office), or just made up their minds that Trump Will Reduce Grocery Prices and refused to listen to any information that countered that view. What do we get now? Trump laughing off the grocery-prices issue and insisting that it's "not a priority" and Musk managing to claim that the real problem is government spending, not corporate greed. Again, this was completely predictable, because y'all got willingly suckered. It was not hard to see it coming.

That said: if the Glorious Online Leftist Revolution is still coming, and by some lights we might now legitimately need it, where the fuck is it? Are they still out there banging the drum against Trump and his "let's ethnically cleanse Gaza" policy and anything else that they insisted, they swore up and down, was functionally equivalent or possibly even marginally better than Biden-Harris getting another term? No. They're either dead silent, offering weak excuses, or completely giving into "we're doomed there's no point fighting back through weak shitlib institutions that are obviously terrible and will fail" blubbering that makes no fucking sense. One, because they move the goalposts so constantly that there's not even any attempt to reckon with the last effects of their damaging bullshit, and two? As I said, where's the fucking Revolution magically coming to save us and install a perfect leftist utopia (which is never how revolutions have ever worked) and sweep away Government Tyranny? Is that only for when a Democrat is in office and you can have confidence that the government is not going to come after you in the middle of the night for talking about it? Now that there's an actual fascist in power, it's somehow too hard to resist at all, even in small, institutional, and everyday ways that are often far more effective at practically confounding the bad stuff instead of empty and useless online echo chambers, so guess we should all just give up??!

Fuck. That.

This is also why we have to talk about the catastrophic lack of information literacy and critical thinking skills in young leftist spaces. A good example is the recent migration of TikTok users to the Chinese app RedNote. It was sweet for a little while as there was cultural exchange and friendship and memes. But then, predictably, it dove hard into "ah, once again The Evil US Government Has Lied To Us and there are no problems at all in China!" I have seen posts float by on my dash that unironically claim this is the case and China is truly great and Americans should want to move there and clearly all that business about authoritarian control and mass repression was just a ruse by, again, The Evil US Government. If you are so utterly devoid of basic information literacy and research abilities that your standard of proof for "is the Chinese government repressively authoritarian and totalitarian" is "a random Chinese person on an app in a country where the Internet is viciously controlled and voicing the slightest criticism can make you disappear told me that it isn't," then for Christ's fucking sake, you need help. For one, it wasn't just the US government saying this. It was, y'know, Chinese dissidents, the entire nation of Taiwan, historians, academics, researchers, the Uyghur Muslims of Xinjiang, etc etc. If your only standard for believing or supporting anything is "the opposite of what the US government thinks," then you are perfect targets for authoritarianism. Hey, a person living under an authoritarian regime who will punish them if they speak out against it told me everything was fine! Clearly there's nothing to worry about and we should want it here in America!

Come on. Come on.

This is also the case because uneducated young leftists like to unironically label themselves "communists" or "Marxist-Leninists" as if it's cool and hip and has never been involved in anything problematic in all of history, so anything that calls itself that must be supported. Shoutout to the idiot in my notes recently who reblogged a several-year-old post just to shout at me about how historical communists NEVER worked with or collaborated with fascists, because something something The Communists Were The Pure Shining Good Guys! (Uh, nobody tell them about the Molotov-Ribbentrop Pact.) Clearly, the Chinese Communist Party is good and beneficial, end of story, no more criticism or caution needed! Obviously, yes, official American policy toward China has often been driven by basic Sinophobia, and the determination that nobody can change American hegemony or unipolarity or its ability to call the shots how it pleases. But if that is the literally only criteria you're using, then yeah. If you're so unaware that "the Chinese people are ordinary human beings" and "the Chinese government is repressive and authoritarian" are statements that can and in fact do coexist, then apparently you've missed the situation you're in right now, where "the American people are ordinary human beings" and "the American government is repressive and authoritarian" is also the case. Because online leftism is essentially devoid of a consistent moral principle and will just blithely switch up to support Bad Things as long as they're being done by governments with the correct ideological label, here we are.

Anyway. This is getting long, but the main takeaway is that the "all resistance against Trump is doomed and I guess we just gotta die :(" line is now, somehow, often coming from the same people who were constantly yelling that the only hope was a Glorious Revolution against Biden-Harris, and it is somehow even stupider. So you'll trumpet about Gloriously Overthrowing The Government all the day long as long as a Democrat is in office, but the instant a Republican gets in there instead and starts acting like an actual fascist, welp, time to just shut up and accept our doom and not even bother to struggle? Please tell me how any of that makes sense. Especially when actively confounding the Trump/Musk Axis of Evil is already working. There is also the fact that the establishment-media types are supporting this narrative for reasons of their own; witness the fact that the entire US corporate media is owned by oligarchs who hastened to bend the knee and pledge fealty to Trump 2.0. They obviously also have a reason for inculcating hopelessness in you, and that the only recourse is to shut up, accept it, and let them continue to rob you blind. Because American democracy will never matter as much as money, power, and control for the Billionaire Bros.

The point is: this is a bad-faith narrative on all sides. Whether it's coming from the online leftists in their latest head-spinningly hypocritical volte-face, the oligarch-owned corporate media that wants to feed you constant Bad News to keep you clicking and worried and distracted and unable to resist, the Trumpist power that wants people to quit making this pesky stink about all their authoritarian fascist adventures, or anyone else. There is nobody who has your best interests at heart if they are telling you that everything is doomed and the only thing to do is lie down and take it. There is no logical reason you should listen to them. Go forth and keep resisting, in whatever way presents itself. Those cumulative small actions are far more effective than any Splendid Revolution that never, ever materializes, while the people who preach it just sit back and whine about how things are so bad now so clearly they couldn't. Shut up.

It is always important. It always matters. It will make a difference.

Courage, etc.

[n0tamused]

HSR/Genshin characters as dragons

A/n: I feel like this is a bit shorter than my usual dragon posts, I apologize for that. But I also have to say (for my sake at least) that these images of dragons aren't what my finished art looks like. At best I'd call them colored sketches, so please - if you're interested in my finished works, check out my instagram as I have way more concrete examples of my art! <3 Thank you. And if anyone is interested in a c0mission, you can feel free to check the carrd link in bio! They are still open!

Contents: Jing Yuan, Capitano and Aventurine as dragons, x reader, gn reader, tinge of angst, headcanons

Jing Yuan:

-Jing Yuan, although looking really fluffy and soft as he does, is a formidable warrior. He didn’t get to be a General for nothing at all

-His fur does hide a lot away and it does give him a rather gentle appearance, making him a bit easier to approach than your regular dragon. His species specifically wasn’t made for war but rather for more endurance and some more milder things, but Jing Yuan excels in all aspects of his kind and has proven himself worthy of his station during the wars and during more diplomatic events.

-It goes without saying, but this guy is cunning, he has his brains about himself and knows how to play an opponent where necessary, although he does prefer more honorable approaches and would never do anything purely “evil”

-Some wonder how he hasn’t turned brown from how much he loves to bask in the sun in his dragon form. And oftentimes it has happened when someone went to check on him and he was just knocked out in a nap coma, not laying in any shade, just all sun. If he was in his human form he would have been burnt to a crisp

-But there’s something about Jing Yuan’s dragon form that is rather comforting, to both you and honestly anyone else. Everyone knows stories of old kings and leaders of planets and countries that are described as these powerful and frightening individuals that hid their softness for special people in their hearts. Jing Yuan, although powerful, does not evoke fear in his people like those kings from the stories do. His presence does command respect, yes, but people can approach him and talk to him just fine, without any unwarranted fear that he’d reprimand them or punish them for saying anything he may dislike.

-He has a lot of patience with people in general, and all diplomatic meetings he attends go by smoothly

-Jing Yuan doesn’t shy from his dragon form at all, and at times he prefers it when the sun is not as strong, so he can soak up every single ray of sun he possibly can. He has quite the bit yard so he doesn’t lack space either

-Loves to see you cuddle him. Since he is quite big, he does tend to not move much if you decide to hop onto him while he’s sleeping and cuddle him, just in case you find yourself under his claws by some chance. He doesn’t want to crush you. Other times he is rather playful, gentle all throughout, as he picks you up or nudges you with his head. Once he smacked you with that big tail of his, and although it looks mad fluffy that thing does have weight to it alright.. you were knocked into the grass bro

-Older age has turned some of his coat a darker shade and some of those spots also came in later in his life. It is something he doesn’t mind, he is quite fond of his spots

-He lets you do his hair or help him with his armor in dragon form. There are always those small and annoying clasps that are bothersome to put on so he entrusts them to you

-Some of the armor does hide scars from his past battles, but so does his big thick mane. That’s also some of the reasons why people think he doesn’t do much fighting since he always looks so well put together and “clean”(no visible scars) both in human form and in dragon form

-He is also very clean btw, smells fresh. Chef kiss

Capitano:

-His name has only existed in rumors and legends for centuries, and he has long since become some sort of  ghost tale. Some believe this dragon exists, some don’t, some use the stories to scare their children with, others laugh about it..etc

-No one doubts Capitano, the strongest man alive, the first of the Fatui exists, but the question of his dragon form is another matter. Many don’t even believe those are one and the  same, due to the lack of all the proof that the two are correlated 

-Capitano has never admitted to anything either to anyone outside of this Fatui fold, and he never truly had the need to take the form of the ice beast. He is the strongest man in Teyvat, he can do everything in this form without causing too much of a ruckus, he doesn’t need a dragon to wreck more havoc and cause more of a scene yk

-Although in his battle against Mavuika… maybe they both let out their beastly forms yk and they just duked it out a bit until both sustained damage and that fog curtain was blown over them and they retreated

-In his dragon form he is quite cold to the touch, it’s almost like he doesn’t produce much heat at all, and although his breath sometimes smokes and fogs from his nostrils, his scales are never warm. 

-His scales are dense and thick, made for protection and endurance, but they do hinder some of his ability to be flexible

-Don’t be fooled though, although he isn’t the most flexible or speedy dragon around, he is a killer tank, a machine. His claws and teeth can pierce anything and everything, and that tail of his is also something to be wary off. Even if he has his back turned to you that tail seems to possess a mind of its own and lashes about to protect him if someone tries an attack from behind (side note: inspired by an iguanodon, specifically that big claw on his front legs)

-Ice powers of course, he can freeze the ground underneath him and summon ice projectiles, as if he wasn’t a battle beast already 

-This form is quite rare to see, and for a long, long time his darling didn’t even know about it until that battle with Mavuika that brought it out of him

-It was nothing to scoff at or turn your head from. You were worried for him when you heard he was injured, and to know he had pushed himself into his dragon form also speaks great volumes of the intensity of the battle itself

-He doesn’t see it as important even after you expressed your concerns and bafflement after having found out. He just sort of shrugs it off. No big deal 

-His wings look quite heavy, and they are, so he does require quite the run up to take to the skies

-In human form he does have some scales on him, so if you’re cuddled up to him at night you can feel them under your fingertips. Capitano is quite open to your touches, rather relaxed after being with you for so long and these days, your touches often lull him to sleep. He sleeps on his back and sleeps like a log. He usually has an arm around you and the scales on his chest and arms are free to be examined by you

-He is quite scarred, and Capitano is not opposed to telling you how he got which scar. His way of storytelling isn’t exactly rich, it’s straight to the point but not boring

-Sometimes he leaves his tail around when he goes back to his human form, but only if he knows no one will see him, except you. 

Aventurine:

-Although the smallest in the list today, and a smaller stature for his species in general, Aventurine’s strength lies in his head. Due to the rough past he preserved through with luck and cunning, he knows what the world is like and how it operates

-Most people base their judgment on visuals and vocal tones, so Aventurine has gained quite the rep for being flamboyant and extra. Just like he wears so many fancy layers and clothes in his human form, he adorns his dragon form in pretty pearls, gold, rings, scarves, fluff..etc. Everything to show this image of confidence and maybe a bit of cockiness and arrogance

-As the money goat of the IPC, he has to look the part too, no?

-As mentioned before, he knows what a lot of people look at and what they look for, and due to the smaller size of his dragon he is able to walk through most places in that form too, bringing more attention to himself and more opportunities too.

-Of course he has had his fair share of insults directed at him, both in human and dragon form, but he tries not to let it ever show. The dragon form does tend to ward off any truly malicious individuals though, and his status as a Stoneheart has granted him a fair share of protection as well. Not many would dare to strike a Stoneheart.

-By nature he is quite colorful, additionally Aventurine also takes great care and hygiene of his looks. I mean dude probably has his own perfume brand along some others, he smells good and does leave a lasting impression overall

-The only thing he wishes he could get rid of is that branding on his neck. It is there no matter what shape he takes and it is glaringly obvious to anyone that looks at him. He can hide his eyes, but he can’t hide the red letters on his neck that the feathers or his collar fail to cover up. Even after so many years after it happened, the feathers in that spot of his neck never grew back, the tissue being far too scarred to allow any new growth.

-It is the only thing he  could visibly react to when in the presence of someone else. He may huff and puff, try and jest about it before switching topics

-No matter how much he takes care of himself though, he’ll never be able to wash off the blood of his skin and feathers, the blood of his people that died while he survived, then the blood of the master that abused him and kept him chained up.

-His feathers may look glossy, clean, pristine, but if it were up to him, he’d pluck them all out

-In private, if you catch him before he reverts back to his human form, he tends to not let you touch him

-He makes some excuses, that his feathers are too oily, or that they don’t smell good, or that they’re too rough and this and that, and he just goes back to his human form before you can protest against it

-If you really insist he will agree on gifting you a couple of his feathers for keepsake, your pick too. You can use it as an accessory, or maybe house decor - sell it if you want to, he doesn’t mind what you do with it

Ⓒ n0tamused. Do not repost, translate, edit, and/or copy any of my works. Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated.

Tags: @moonlitreveri3 @lexidraws @drowning-in-cabbages @creationsabyss @grimulf-of-the-wilderness @st4rrl1ghtwastaken @the-inquisitive-constellation @voiddance @the-bilkush @fictionally-attached @cheese-enjoyer9471

[scariusaquarius]

coachable.

RE6! Leon Kennedy x Assistant! Fem! Reader

Summary: Leon Kennedy has been given an assistant that he didn't ask for at the DSO when he begins to fall behind on paperwork and reports. This assistant, however, doesn't seem too keen to be helping him with his mountains of paperwork. Leon reaches the final straw when she mouths off to him for the last time.

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A/n: Nothing major, just some classic Leon Kennedy smut hehe. also, i kind of just let the words flow. I really like the agent x assistant dynamic, and I know the trope is overdone, but i will NEVER tire of 'tired old boss fucking bratty assistant'. ANYWAY here is a treat <3

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Genre: Romance, Erotica Rated: Explicit Warning: Erotica, Porn w/Plot 18+, Angry/Hate Sex, Dirty Talk, Unprotected Sex, Slight Choking, Degradation, Oral Sex (male/female receiving), Use of Whore, Mean! Leon, Spit Play (leon spits in your mouth like once), CUM EATING, Power Play

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Author: ScariusAquarius

-

Being a federal agent fighting against bioterrorism was a hard job; especially when it was a job he didn't even want in the first place.

When Leon escaped Raccoon City with Claire and Sherry, he envisioned his life becoming quiet. He'd move out of the city and into the country, away from people, and he could heal and focus on forgetting the horrors of that fateful night back in the 90s.

However, life and people had other plans, and Leon had never truly recovered nor healed properly from the traumas he had faced. When the incident at the White House, Tall Oaks, and Shang-Hai happened and he discovered that Sherry had also been forced to become an agent of the Department of Security Operations, Leon was fed up.

Was he going to continue to keep doing his job in hopes that this fight wasn't for nothing? Absolutely, but that didn't mean he was going to enjoy it. So, in tandem with his growing resentment, Leon's performance outside of missions began to dwindle.

Leon began to drink more heavily; his reports sitting unfinished on his desk as supervisors and higher-ups seethed, reprimanded, and threatened, because of the unfinished works. Leon had begun shutting his phone off after he left the DSO at the end of the day.

Even Hunnigan was starting to get onto him about his work and his performance, giving him small lectures that had him rolling his eyes and sighing and agreeing half-heartedly before he would walk off and toss the files on his desk to be forgotten for another day.

Finally, the DSO had enough of his slack and had hired an assistant for him to help him with his paperwork, and Leon was not having any of it. Like a personal vendetta, Leon made sure that he let the DSO know that he didn't appreciate being treated like a child who couldn't do his homework by making the assistant's lives a living hell.

Because of his actions, most of the assistants didn't last long. The longest assistant he had at one time was for about two months before they finally broke and left the job.

And then came you.

Leon just couldn't wrap his head around you; couldn't figure out what it was that made you tick and what made you stay for as long as you had. You were a no-nonsense woman like Hunnigan but with a much larger stick up your ass. You were efficient and aggressive, making sure that Leon knew that you weren't going to take his bullshit and get his reports done.

For the most part, Leon had adamantly refused; allowing the papers to stack for a while before you'd take some, complete them, and then come banging on his office door as more files were given to him.

You weren't so hard on him when he would be put onto missions; understanding that the job itself was more important than the papers, but you weren't about to get in trouble nor allow him any lenience since your job was heavily dependent on him.

Leon sat back in his office chair, his blue eyes staring you down from outside of his office as a pen was shaken back and forth between his fingers.

The paperwork in front of him had been long-forgotten; the words beginning to blur together and give him a headache (though it could have also been the whiskey he'd been sipping from that familiar black flask he'd gotten from the Eastern Slav Republic).

Instead, to pass the time, Leon had taken to watching you. He watched the way you stayed hyperfocus, barely giving any attention to anybody who passed by and tried to talk to you.

You were a hard worker; a meticulous being who took pride in her work, and though your bossiness could get under Leon's skin, Leon respected that you took your job seriously unlike a lot of the other office workers and agents within the DSO.

He just couldn't get past your disrespectful mouth.

"Mr. Kennedy, I'm not going to ask you again. Get the reports done, or I'm going to write a complaint to the director. Again."

You were suddenly standing in front of him, the man jolting slightly when you slapped a folder down in front of him. His blue eyes squinted at you slightly as you placed a hand on your hip, giving him a stern glare.

"Aw, you're gonna tell on me? That hurts my feelings, sweetheart."

His tone was sassy, and mocking, and it made the fire in your eyes blaze. Your nostrils flared, and Leon couldn't help but be amused by the effect his words had on you.

"Listen, I was nice enough to do most of it for you. All you have to do is fill in the blank like the child you are, and then the director won't be on either of our asses anymore. I'm not fucking around, agent."

Before he could retort, you spun around on your heel and marched out, swinging his door shut with a loud slam and causing the blinds to fly and crash against the door. A blade from the blinds broke, and Leon's eyebrow twitched.

Yes, you took your job seriously to the point it annoyed Leon, and he had half a mind to give you a piece of it; his muscles taut and trembling with anger. Who the hell did you think you were talking to him like that?

Gritting his teeth, Leon made sure you were watching him before he grabbed the file and promptly swung it into the trash before kicking his feet up on his desk to take a sip of his whiskey.

He took much pleasure in the way your body shot up from your desk and promptly walked to the break room, hips swinging the whole time.

Once the weekend had passed and Leon had come in, he could feel his body immediately dreading the workday when he noticed you were already at his desk and waiting for him.

Leon threw his bag down onto a chair opposite the desk, collapsing into his chair and sipping the coffee you had placed on his desk with a note that said 'fuck you:)' on it discreetly.

"Nice note, but you're not my type. What the hell do you want at 5am in the morning?"

You rolled your eyes at him before crossing your arms, stating.

"I just spent almost all of last night emailing our higher-ups and explaining to them that the reason their reports are late is because you're not being compliant and doing them, and you know who got yelled at?"

Leon stayed quiet, ignoring your presence as he logged onto his laptop, and he had to swing his hands back when you slammed his laptop shut, your eyes wide and lips curled back into a snarl.

"Leon, I'm not fucking around anymore!"

"Who the hell do you think you are, huh?"

Leon shot up from his chair, getting into your face as anger slipped into his hungover veins, his head beginning to hurt from the skyrocket of blood pressure.

"I'm your goddamn assistant! Your assistant, Leon, not the person doing your whole job for you!"

Leon didn't know what had happened. One minute, he was opening his mouth to yell at you, and the next second, he had your face in between his hands and was kissing you like his whole life depended on it.

You seemed to be shocked, unsure of what to do, and Leon couldn't help but growl when your tongue swiveled against his as he dominated your mouth, gripping your neck tightly within his grasp.

"You talk too goddamn much."

He hissed into your mouth before kissing you again, and your hands were yanking on his hair; the pain sending rivers of tingles down his spine as his cock jumped to life within his slacks.

He was just pent-up, his mind told him, this was just about relief and getting you off of his case. This was purely a dance of power and raw lust fueled by the need to be better, to be in control, to be right.

And however could he resist when you were wearing his cologne?

His nose was buried in your neck, smelling your sweet scent and biting down hard upon your skin, his hands all over your body and ripping and tearing at buttons and seams that were already fragile and frayed. Your nails were digging into his scalp, pulling and tearing and cutting until blood stained the tips of your fingers.

Leon pulled you desperately over his desk and into his lap, your skirt ripping at the sides as your legs wrapped around his waist, and his hands yanked your shirt out from beneath the waistband, his rough hands trailing up the soft skin of your spine.

"Why can't you just leave me the fuck alone, you brat."

"Shut the fuck up, Kennedy."

Your lips were on his, and Leon's hand swung down onto your ass as hard as he could, your body jolting and a shocked cry being swallowed down his throat before he gripped your ass hard through the ruined skirt.

"You don't tell me what to do."

His voice was rough, hoarse, and there was a distant thought of needing a drink to make his voice clear. However, that thought was dissipated when your clothed core rubbed against the bulge desperately pulsing within his pants; his body and mind becoming hooked on you.

He hated you. Leon hated you so much, he couldn't stand it. He couldn't stand being here with you like this, but his legs and arms and hands and mouth; gods, they wouldn't stop moving all over you. Leon couldn't stop devouring your skin and cries and biting and teething and gods, he was turning into a monster himself.

Leon picked you up to smack you down onto his desk, your legs spread, and his coffee went flying, spilling all over his desk and running down the sides into the carpet below.

"Jesus, Kennedy, can't even keep your space clean as usual."

You hissed out, and Leon snarled at you, the grip of his hands bruising and unforgiving as teeth and tongues clashed.

"Since you like to use that mouth so much, why don't you use it for something actually useful?"

There was a part of Leon that felt bad through the haze of his anger and lust as he forced you off the desk and onto your knees, but it quickly disappeared when he got a good look at you.

You were pretty, too pretty, while on your knees.

Eyelashes slightly wet from the tears that had gathered in your eyes from the harsh bite he had imprinted into your shoulder, breaths heavy from how much he was kissing you, and your lips were starting to become swollen.

"Open your fucking mouth."

Your lips formed a thin line as you kept them closed, and Leon sighed before grabbing your face and pressing down on your cheeks, hitting pressure points within the jaw to force your mouth open, and Leon hummed.

"You're so much more sufferable when you're on your knees."

Your eyes were dilated; watching his every move with a sneer though you never tried to pull back. In fact, this whole time, you never once pulled away from him.

Did you want him like that? Have you thought about him enough to the point that you, too, craved him? Did you want to put him in his place like he was doing to you? Leon smirked, his mouth filling with drool and saliva, and Leon leaned down and spat right into your mouth.

"Dirty whore. Anybody could walk in and see you, you know. Someone could walk right through that door and see you on your knees. Just what would they say?"

Your throat was undulating as you swallowed his saliva, and you mumbled back; the words jumbled and almost unintelligible with the way he was still holding your mouth open.

"Fuck you."

"You know what, I just might. Get my cock out."

You made a face at him, and he tugged unceremoniously on your face, making you wince slightly when he pressed his bulge against your face.

"You want this or not?"

You pushed away from him, Leon slacking a bit, and you were glaring at him the whole time you unbuckled his belt, unbuttoned his slacks, and pushed his briefs down to reveal his throbbing and engorged cock.

Precum was pearling at the tip already, a few veins that wrapped around the shaft pulsing slightly, and the head was a deep red from how hard Leon was. His balls were heavy and full, ready to be emptied into any of your holes, and you had to admit: even his cock was pretty.

Slipping your tongue out, you teasingly swiped at the tip, the salt taste of his precum making your nostrils flare, and Leon's eyes shut just the slightest. Then, you were slipping him into your mouth, and Leon's head fell back; eyes rolling.

How long had it been since he'd been intimate with someone? God, he was rusty. If just your mouth was enough to make his whole body freeze up, how was your pussy going to make him act? Leon needed to get a grip.

But you were sucking him so well, swallowing him down as much as you could as if you were trying to prove something, and Leon's hips stuttered. Your tongue was pressing against his shaft; wiggling and rolling, and Leon couldn't help but to moan languidly.

"Jesus Christ, princess. You must get around, huh?"

You looked offended, sliding off of his cock to berate and scold him, but Leon fucked his cock into your mouth, your eyes widening.

"Nu-uh. I don't want a hear a fucking word come out of your noisy mouth."

He was using you as a fleshlight, fucking his cock into your throat and grunting each time his balls slapped against your chin, and he was certain that his computer chair was going to break from how squeaky it was becoming.

He can just make you order a new one later...or have you use it so you could remember the way he shoved his cock down your throat. The thought made Leon's cock jump, and he was gonna cum if he wasn't careful. Slipping out of your mouth, you coughed slightly, inhaling and gulping deep breaths of air, and Leon pulled you up by your hair and bent you over the desk.

Ripping the remnants of your skirt a part, your panties and pantyhose were on display, a cute little thong with a pink bow in the back greeting him.

"Aw, you like bows, huh? Who would have thought? And look, you're so soaked for me. You like being put in your place, don't ya, sweetheart?"

"For a dog, all you do is bark."

Leon's eyes dilated, a chuckle coming from deep within him as he ripped your pantyhose open and slid your thong to the side.

"Then I'll show you just how hard this dog can bite."

Hanging heavy between his legs, his cock pulsed, ready to spear you open, and Leon guided himself between your wet lips, biting his lip. You were staring at him from over your shoulder, waiting to see what he would do, and Leon leaned forward and grabbed the back of your neck, hissing into your ear.

"Look at me. I want to see your face as I split your pussy open."

Leon hissed slightly through his teeth when he slipped his cock inside of you, and holy fuck, you were heavenly. Your eyes widened, mouth falling agape, and your fingers were clutching onto the edge of his desk as hard as they could.

You were so warm and tight, Leon wasn't sure if it was just because it'd been a while or if you were just made for him, but he was addicted. You were so goddamn wet, he could feel your slick against his pelvis, and Leon couldn't help but to start pounding.

You were biting your lip, trying to keep the moans from spilling out, and Leon couldn't help but to moan and rest his forehead against your shoulder. Quickly, that mean demeanor began to leave him with every thrust into your pussy; desperation for release clinging to him.

He needed this. He needed this relief; to vent out his frustrations in a way that left Leon feeling satisfied. Did he mean to do it this way? Probably not, and definitely not with you, but he had made his bed and he would lie in it.

Leon's hips were pounding into you as hard as they could, your whimpers and whines like music to his ears, and Leon was holding onto you tightly, wrapping his arms around you tightly and grunting.

"Fuck, fuck, you're so goddamn hot....feel so goddamn good."

You were whispering his name, afraid to be heard or seen, and Leon hissed into your ear.

"Say it louder. I want them to hear. I want everyone in the DSO to know that you're my cock-hungry little assistant who just can't help herself."

You squeezed your eyes shut, reaching back to grip at his hip, and you whined out.

"Leon! You're too deep. It...it hurts!"

Leon almost didn't listen to you, the smug feeling in his head clouding his judgement for a moment until he relented. Leon adjusted his position, asking you in a moment of sweetness that had your mind rolling.

"Fuck...fuck...are you alright?"

The kindness and worry that was in his voice made you confused for a moment; almost wondering if it was still Leon that was inside of you, and you nodded, panting as you took a breather.

"Yeah...shit...you're just...too damn big. No wonder you're such a dick."

Leon snorted, kissing your cheek and whispering into your ear.

"Don't worry, you'll get used to it."

Leon pulled back, hands on your hips, and he began to pound into you again. You gasped from the sensation, forehead on the wood of his desk, and Leon groaned.

"Goddamn, princess, you feel so damn good wrapped around me. Gonna fill you up...or maybe I'll cum on your tits...maybe your ass?"

Leon couldn't make up his mind. You couldn't respond, too enthralled by the feeling of his cock stretching you, and Leon moaned, his brows furrowing up. His cock was throbbing; a knot within his stomach forming, and he was aware that he was going to cum soon.

"Tell me where you want it, sweetheart."

You whined slightly before whispering to him.

"I don't fucking care."

He spanked your ass, making you yelp.

"I asked you a question. Answer me properly."

You bit your lip, and he slapped your other ass cheek, making you hiss and exclaim.

"Fuck, in me!"

"Where, baby girl, be specific."

You whined in frustration, exclaiming loudly.

"Cum in my pussy, goddammit!"

Leon moaned loudly, fucking into you faster and rougher until his thrusts became irregular, and he came deep inside of you, filling you up with his cum. Leon was panting, sweat rolling down his temple and neck, and you were in worse shape than he was.

Poor you, your whole outfit was completely ruined. Your makeup, your demeanor, you were completely wrecked and it was all because of him.

Leon pulled out, and he manhandled you to your back, making your eyes widen.

"What are you doing?"

"Shush."

Leon sat down on his chair, and he leaned down to comfortable start eating you out. Your eyes widened, and Leon moaned at the taste of your fucked-out pussy; his cum mixing with your taste and making his cock jump a bit in his hand.

Your hand was twisting within his hair, pulling, and Leon's tongue flattened against your clit. He suckled on you, suckling his cum out a bit, and you squirmed a bit beneath him.

"Leon..."

Leon opened his eyes to look up at you, and you were watching him with a soft yet embarrassed look on your face. Your bottom lip was bitten between your teeth, your chest heaving with every breath, and Leon moaned softly as he began to jerk his half-hard cock.

You were so goddamn sexy.

Leon closed his eyes again, shoving his tongue as deep into you as he could, moving his freehand up to thumb at your clit. You were moaning softly, head falling back, and Leon suckled on you again, suckling your clit into his mouth and flicking his tongue.

"God, you're so good with your mouth. You must get around, huh?"

Sassy jackass, Leon had to think. Leon groaned again, that familiar knot growing, and he could tell that you were getting close as well by the way your legs shook and tightened around his head. You laid back all the way onto his desk, shoving his face deeper and closer to your cunt, and Leon moaned gently.

He gulped noisily, swallowing his saliva and cum and your juices, and Leon looked at you as you moaned loudly, back arching slightly, and his eyes widened slightly when your legs closed around his head tightly, your hips jerking and bucking into his face as you bit your hand to keep your noises from getting too loud.

Leon drank your juices greedily, moaning as he came into his hand, catching as much of his cum as he could, and the two of you panted again. Leon leaned back, teasingly wiping his cum all over your pussy before he looked up at you as you spoke.

"So, you gonna do those reports now?"

Leon didn't know why, but for some reason, he couldn't help but to laugh at your words. Was it the absurdity? The randomness of your question? God only knew. Leon was only aware that you were giggling too, sitting up with a mischievous grin. Leon shrugged, a smirk on his wet lips.

"You got yourself a deal."

"What do you mean?"

Leon licked his fingers, your eyes watching with awe as he smirked at you.

"Every report you want me to do, I get to fuck that pretty pussy of yours."

You swallowed slightly, humming as you watched him lick his own cum off of his fingers.

"Every ten reports."

"Five."

You sighed and relented.

"Fine."

Leon smirked before he pulled his briefs and slacks up, buckling his belt and taking in your ripped clothing.

"I think I got a change of clothes in the locker-room at the training facility. Why don't you just sit all pretty for me and wait for me to get back? I'll make sure to lock the door."

You just made a face at him, and Leon gave you a look.

"You want the clothes or not?"

"Yeah, yeah, just...whatever."

You were shy, almost ashamed, but Leon didn't comment on it. The two of you could talk about it more when he got back and sat down and worked on the reports with you. With a new spring to his step, Leon locked the door to his office and watched as DSO agents and office workers alike began to file in. It was gonna be so fun to watch you try to explain why you were wearing his clothes if someone asked.

He'd make sure to tell Hunnigan to ask just so he could watch your face.

God, he loved his job.

END

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[youareatragedy]

I’d bet my firstborn that if it had been Elain, not Nesta, who saved the dumbass couple with that death pact and went on to save both Prythian and Midgard, Elain would be celebrated as a hero by the IC and would only get a slap on the wrist for handing over the mask.

I bet the whole fandom would praise the hell out of Rhys if he saved Nesta’s life and both Prythian and Midgard at the same time, even without consulting anyone and they’d just say, “Oh, he’s his usual self-sacrificing self and so kind, even toward ungrateful Nesta.”

I bet the whole fandom would turn a blind eye and not take it seriously if Feyre were the one handing over the mask to Bryce—even though Nesta didn’t give her permission (it was hers remember??)—and instead, they’d turn on Nesta with nonsense like, “What is Feyre supposed to do? Not save Midgard? They’ll come to Prythian next! Nesta is such a selfish, dumb cunt.”

There is no scenario where any of these three would face the same kind of anger from the IC and fandom that Nesta gets for saving that dumbass couple’s asses and then saving two universes. And you know it’s true because to them, Nesta sacrificing her power to save the selfish couple who think they deserve to be parents is STILL not enough for the fandom and Rhys. Meanwhile, Elain just staying quiet and baking in their mansion’s kitchen is enough for the fandom and the IC.

Nesta should have just pointed her finger at the cult leader, Rhys, and let them all die. I’d rather see Nesta raise Nyx to not be a selfish asshole and become an actual good leader, rather than watch him be taught how to paint, pick crowns, build another mansion, tell a suicidal person to “just do it”, tell a depressed person to “get with the program or go back to a place where she’ll be persecuted” and claim, “I’m actually the most powerful High Lord that ever existed... but only in my elite city. I’m ‘powerless’ to stop female mutilation in other parts of the country or to help oppressed females elsewhere.”

[fangsandfeels]

"Everyone gets along because there is a threat", yadda, yadda, yadda.

Bullshit. This is not how real scenarios work and it has never been.

russia is a global threat right now, but the world can't decide between sucking its dick and politely asking it to stop because the mere thought of confronting russia makes it shit its pants. The very few countries who scream into the void, warning about russia and telling people to wake the fuck up are ignored and viewed as crazy doomsayers.

This is how real crisis looks like. Nobody works together against a threat because people are spineless cowards who would rather throw their neighbors under the bus than fight. Nobody learned anything from history lessons, books or survivors.

The only difference in a fantasy game is that NPCs end up having more spine and moral principles than real people.

But in Veilguard, everyone gets along because they have NO reasons not to.

Davrin has no real reasons to beef (if you can call it that) with Lucanis because he is a Grey Warden. He knows where Grey Wardens take their conscripts from. He knows that Grey Wardens regularly recruit mages who are a lot more likely to get possessed if they're not careful. Working with an assassin who knows friend from foe isn't the worst thing ever. One subtle warning about taking action if demon takes over is enough.

Taash has no reasons to antagonize Emmrich aside from horrible writing.

Neve gets along with Bellara because writers gave Bellara a happy childhood with her family and turned Dalish artifacts into Apple store gadgets, while refusing giving Neve any nuance as the citizen of Tevinter.

Emmrich gets along with everyone because he is generally a kind and well-mannered person who doesn't like to stir the pot.

Any companion who could have had a sharp edge, got that edge ripped off and a cartoon band-aid slapped on.

Never doesn't deal with people who don't know about Shadow Dragons (and they probably shouldn't know much because when you work against a powerful government who wants to destroy you, you shouldn't show off), so she constantly has to deal with the fact that people assume she is a noble or a slave-owner because she is from Tevinter; that they don't know that she had to literally fight against being enslaved herself because in Tevinter mages who refuse to use their power to dominate others are turned into slaves as well.

Bellara isn't conflicted about working with humans, especially Tevinter humans at all. She seems to never have dealt with oppression her whole life and she is super quick to write off Cyrian as evil even though there are clear SIGNS that he was tricked and controlled by the Forgotten One. But no, she never thinks "He is still there, I can save him, I won't lose him again", she goes straight to "Oh nooo my brother is dead to me".

Emmrich doesn't get burdened by people reacting to him and his sincere intention to help with fear, because of all the sinister rumors revolving around necromancers and Nevarra. He isn't hurt by people assuming that he loves death and things dying. If even he openly admitted that he is deeply terrified of death, they wouldn't have believed him.

Harding isn't burdened by the revelation she learned and what to do with it. Should she storm her way to the Orzammar? Should she talk to fellow surface dwarves and reconnect them with their history? Should she never breach the subject because the truth hurts and it's too much pain, too much anger to live with - and maybe she shouldn't let other dwarves go through it?

We don't even have a party divided on what to do with Solas (kill or talk it out)? Even though it's logical to have companions who are convinced that Solas has to die and those who think that he is misguided and can be convinced to stop.

Also, there are NO companions whose background, viewpoints and attitude would rile other companions up. We have no controversial characters whose interactions with the crew Rook would have been forced to intervene in unless they want their team to start throwing hands with each other.

We could have had Imshael - to give EVERYONE a reason to worry, and argue, and have conflicts. We could have had an ex-Venatori Calpernia bashing heads with Neve, Bellara, and Emrich. We could have had a Qunari spy who'd make Lucanis' dagger-arm itch.

If writers didn't forget about the Architect, we could have had an intelligent Darkspawn companion Davrin could be losing his shit around.

Or heck, we could have had a former red templar who got partially (magically?) reversed from their mad state and is now not a mindless beast, but still is on a borrowed time, probably needed due to their strength, but barely tolerated by anyone.

Who is fanatical, mostly because they have to believe they made a noble sacrifice, that it all was for the greater good -- because the truth scares them to their core. Who gives Lucanis shit for being an assassin and abomination, who bashes necromancy, and mages, and talks about purity, while downplaying their own actions as "Yes, these are my sins, but they are for the better world, and I would be proud to die for that world unlike you heathens who would rather ruin it than repent for your flaws". The kind of companion you'd initially want to do nothing with, but who can reveal an entire gallery of fucked up contradictions and trauma if you decide to keep them around.

However, writing such companions takes skill, courage, and requires absence of greedy corpo "we don't want to scare away new players with all that moral nuance" thinking.

[lowkeyrobin]

If you're still writing for The Umbrella Academy, I would love to see a Viktor x Reader one shot about Viktor bringing his S/O home to meet his family and just seeing how they react to his S/O. :)

-🦠

AWE OMG YES ☹️☹️☹️ ; thanks for requesting, hope you enjoy 🦠!!

VIKTOR HARGREEVES ; meet the family

summary ; vik brings you home to his mama and daddy (his siblings) (I'm making fun of country ppl pls get the joke)

warnings ; language

disclaimers ; post s3 ig but they still have powers (for the plot cause I thought it'd be fun)

word count ; 836

masterlist

Being Viktor's partner, especially for this long, had long called for a family reunion for you to meet them and vice versa. To say that was nerve-wracking was an understatement. That fucking man had six siblings. Six siblings you needed to impress. Six siblings you had to prove yourself to. Six siblings you had to give a good first impression so they knew you were good for Viktor.

Yeah, no, you weren't prepared to step inside the Hargreeves' mansion of a home.

The first to greet you was Allison, sporting long, dark curls against platforms, black, bell bottoms, and a white top. Get it girlfriend.

"Oh my gosh, hi Vik!" She smiles, wrapping her shorter brother in a hug.

You stand beside them awkwardly, nervously, thinking quickly in your head on what to say, if you should speak at all. No, of course you speak. Speak when spoken too-

"Hi, I'm Allison" She smiles, holding a hand out for you to shake.

You quickly accept the handshake, a kind smile on your face. "I'm Y/n"

"My partner" Viktor smiles.

Allison's soft smile turns into one of joy, much more gleeful. "Congrats, both of you." She looks between you both, a mutual smile being thrown back and forth. "You're a lucky person to have him, trust me"

"Thanks," you reply, looking to your boyfriend. "I love him a lot"

"Good thing I won't have to rumor either of you into saying it out loud," She jokes, patting Viktor on the shoulder before heading back into the living space.

You raise an eyebrow, looking to Vik. "What'd she mean, 'rumor us'?"

"Her power is to rumor people. She says, 'I heard a rumor' and essentially has power over their mind and actions, " he answers.

"Oh..."

"Don't worry, she's just joking. Sorry"

He pulls you into the living room, seeing his other siblings having a grand old time already. At the couch sits Diego and Lila, sipping on some fruity mocktails.

"Well, hello chaos bringer!" Lila smiles, quickly greeting Viktor with a hug. "Who's this lovely looking friend you've got here?"

"My partner" Viktor smiles, looking to you.

"Y/n" You smile, stretching your hand out for her to shake.

Lila accepts. "Lila. Diego's wife" She nods back at Diego.

From the couch, Diego smiles and waves, chewing on a slice of the orange which was in his drink. "Hi! I'm Diego, the only good sibling here"

Lila rolls her eyes, turning to Vik. "Do they know about all our powers?"

"We're just learning as we go" Viktor chuckles.

Lila turns back to you. "Well, I can replicate other people's powers, which is kinda shit sometimes." She shrugs, shoulders slightly knocking around her shoulder length, platinum white hair. "Diego's a master at corn hole. Don't challenge him"

"That's not my power!" He exclaims. "I have better aim than all you dorks, knives are for men!"

Lila and Vik speak to you in unison. "Guns are for pussies"

You chuckle, a hand over your mouth, finding comfort in this chaotic family already.

"Viktor, Lila" A new voice speaks, nodding his head as he speaks. "Who's that?"

"Five, meet Y/n, my significant other." Viktor smiles, turning between the two of you, "Y/n, this is Five. He's the one trapped in a younger version of his body, but he's actually like, seventy"

"Sixty-two," He corrects. "But, welcome to the family, Y/n. You're going to hate it here" He whispers.

"No, they won't!" Klaus groans with an eyeroll, appearing out of nowhere. He places his hands on his shoulders, which quickly fall to his sides after Five teleports away. "Hi, I'm Klaus" He smiles, quickly hugging you.

"Hi!-"

Lila continues, recapping you on powers. "Five can teleport and time travel, and Klaus is immortal and can speak to ghosts"

"And created a cult" Vik adds.

Klaus smiles, stepping back, looking between you and your boyfriend. "Let me know when the wedding is. I'll have to go shopping"

"Klaus!"

"Coming, Diego!"

As Klaus leaves, Luther and Ben approach, being the last of the siblings you had to meet. They both shake hands with you, then begin to argue over who was in charge of dusting the paintings on the walls.

By this point, you were wondering how they even put up with each other, then remembered that they barely did. I mean, you understood. You wouldn't want to be around your collection of siblings anymore after saving the world three times.

Lila turns back to you. "Luther is super strong, Ben has tentacles in his stomach"

You slowly nod. "Gotcha"

Five clinks a fork against a champagne glass, silencing the room. "Let's raise a toast to Viktor and his new partner, yeah?"

"Hell yeah!" Klaus smiles, picking up a stray glass of water off the coffee table.

Ben hands you and Viktor a drink while Five speaks, then drinks once again.

Vik turns to you as Lila joins Diego on the couch again. "Thoughts?"

"Many"

"I'd be worried if not"

[tsukisrants]

TIME TO WORK

Park Seonghwa x Reader

Warnings: Rough sex, Name calling, Slut shaming, Sex in exchange of money, Kind of Hate Sex?, Spit, Anal play, Choking, Dom/sub undertones, Humiliation, Degradation, Slapping, Spanking, Creampie!!, Squirting, Unprotected Sex, Hair Pulling, Rough Oral Sex…,

Word Count: 9.268

“You’re in a desperate need for a job, and you go and ask for help to Park Seonghwa, one of the richest men in the country. Thing his, you broke his heart years ago: now he wants payback.”

————————smut under the cut ————————

Waiting has never been a problem for you.

Not once, expect for now.

See, you’re pretty prideful of your patience and of the way you can handle situations when experiencing stress.

Now? You look like a damn fool.

You’re not even sure you can actually recognize yourself, if you were to be completely honest.

Standing in front of that door, desperate and pathetic.

Your arms are shaking, your hands feel cold and weak.

If you were to grab a butterfly, the little thing would probably laugh at you and bite you. 
And we all know butterflies don’t actually bite.

Do they?

You have no idea.

Right now, your only thought is: will I be able to make it?

Will I look like an idiot in front of him?

Will he laugh at me?

Will I like it?

“Miss? Miss…?”

What? What?

You turn you head and you see the girl: confused eyes, hair tied up neatly and arms busy carrying so many papers.

“Oh- Hi… I booked an appointment a while ago? I think one of your colleagues let me in, I’m Y/N…”, you stutter, clearing your throat as you try to get out of your own head and focus on the situation that you inevitably have to deal with.

“Right! Yes, of course”, says the girl. She smiles, but it’s fake. A smile made out of obligation, out of compassion. It’s her job, nothing more. She doesn’t care about you: just like you don’t care about her.

She’s just a mean to an end, and she knows it.

“Please, follow me, dear. Mr Park is ready to meet you”, she adds, waving her hands towards the door, suggesting you to use those useless limbs of yours and start to move.

You like this girl: she looks perfect in her role.

She doesn’t give a fuck about anything, and she makes you feel at ease, somehow.

She has no idea why you’re here, but in her eyes, her bored eyes, you sense that she feels pity for the dumb girl standing in front of the door of one of the most powerful men in South Korea.

The door is closer.

You’re walking and you don’t even notice it until it’s too late not to.

The door handle is shiny, glistening under the lights.

You want to scream at it.

To rip it off the door and run away: that thing probably would cover your rent cost for the whole month if you sold it.

“Mr Park, your appointment is here”, you hear.

You’re gonna faint.

You so are gonna faint.

You don’t.

You don’t how you manage not to, but the only thing that matters is that you didn’t.

There’s really no need for any other reasons for you to feel like an idiot right now.

The ones you have are already more than enough.

“Let them in, thank you.”

Ok, now you’ll faint.

No way.

It’s been a while since you last heard his voice, but it changed so much whilst remaining so… warm. So him.

You take a deep breath, because now the door isn’t just closer: it’s open.

Fist thing you notice?

The smell.

Or, well, the richness of it.

With all your senses you only are able to perceive one thing: power.

Power and money.

The door closes behind you.

The girl not by your side anymore.

You’re alone now.

But not really, because when you finally raise your head you’re finally able to see him.

Park Seonghwa.

The man everyone either wants, or wants to be.

The man you’ve had, if only for a few months, back when you both were stupid teens.

The same man that is now looking at you, staring you down with that piercing gaze of his.

It’s hard for you to open your mouth and speak up, but you know that you have to, and quickly.

It’s hard, when you have Korea’s wet dream right in front of you.

“H-Hi”, you say.

Which is actually pretty pathetic, especially considering the way your voice shakes and the fact that you should be at least attempting some sort of professionalism given the circumstances.

Well, at least it makes him laugh.

Which means that yes, he recognized you. 


And yes, you actually don’t mind being laughed at.

You don’t know if it’s a thing for you or just the fact that you don’t mind it if he’s the one laughing, which in your opinion would be fair.

“Hello, Y/N. To what do I owe the honor of this unexpected visit?”

Well, fuck.

First thing first, he said your name: and he made it sound like the nastiest thing in the world.

Or maybe you’re just a slut, you can’t really decide.

Whatever.

And the sarcasm.

He’s still mad at you, just like you expected.

You did disappear from his life with no explanation and flew to another country whilst in a relationship with him, after all.

In your defence, you were a dumb kid: you were younger than he was and desperately in love with him. Saying goodbye would have killed you, so you made the most childish and selfish decision ever: you just went away.

One day you guys were holding hands and making plans, and the day after you were just… gone.

You had to leave everything behind cause your mom and dad divorced, and you mother couldn’t bare to keep on living in the same country as the man that ruined her life.

So you followed her, and you two moved on together.


You forgot all about perfect Park Seonghwa, or that’s what you like to tell yourself.

Because if you really had forgotten all about the man, you wouldn’t be standing in his office ready to humiliate yourself.

“W-well… you see, I’m… I thought that maybe…”, words keep on falling from your lips, now all bitten from the nervousness you had to endure waiting for this moment.

Seonghwa isn’t impressed.

He takes his hands out of the pockets of his slacks, only to bring them to his chest. He crosses his arms and slightly tilts his head to the side, an eyebrow raised and a judgment mixed with a not so well hidden amusement written all over his face.

“Y-You t-thought what, exactly?”

Ok, you didn’t expect that.

Mocking you already?

A sign, that’s what this is. A sign that you should turn your heels and fucking run as far as possible from this man.

He looks possessed.

He looks so mean, despite his ethereal beauty.

Obviously, you don’t run.

You wouldn’t be here in the first place if you had any self preservation or respect.

“M’sorry, Hwa, I really am. I know I’ve been”, you try to say, but he cuts you off.

He doesn’t let you finish.

“Who’s Hwa? It’s Mr Park to you”, he says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

Like you’re a stupid fucking idiot just cause you thought you could refer to him like you used to.

“Sir, if I’m feeling kind and if you’ve earned it”, he adds, dropping himself on his pompous chair.

His legs are slightly spread: not enough to be vulgar, but just right. To show dominance, and to make you see that he really owns this place.

Not like you had any doubts, but whatever.

It’s not like you mind it anyways.

You wish you had any smart come-back for his tone, but you don’t.

And, well, you’re in no position to be a jerk: you came here to beg, after all.

“M-Mr Park…” you start, and he chuckles.

“That’s more like it”, he comments, and you don’t miss the way his tongue goes to wet those sinful lips of his.

You follow every single one of his movements, as if you’re trying to study them, as if staring at him could help you achieve your goals.

Only thing is helping you achieve is getting wet in front of your ex-boyfriend, but that’s not the point.

“I know I have no right to come here and ask you for help, but-“, you take a deep breath, “I- I lost my job and I’m alone and I have rent and bills and I’m behind with my payments… if I don’t hand the money to my landlord tonight they’re gonna kick me out and…”

He looks surprised, amused, confused and much more.

You, well… you look humiliated, that’s for sure.

But you knew it was bound to happen, and you’d rather beg for mercy than sleep under a bridge or who knows where else.

“And you’re telling me this because…” he asks, as if he doesn’t already know the answer to that.

He’s enjoying this just like you expected.

“C-cause I thought t-that maybe you could help, l-like what’s some money to you, anyways? And you and I, we have a past, you’d be helping an old friend?”

You’re so shameless, it’s disgusting.

But, desperate times call for desperate way, or something like that.

You just know that you need the money, and you need them now.

He laughs, out loud. Shaking his head and muttering about how absurd this whole situation is, as if you don’t know it already. But whatever:

“I’ll pay you back, of course. Just… give me some time and I promise, Hw- Mr Park, I promise I’ll pay you back.”

He gets up.

He looks mean, and his face hides something.

He looks huge, and you stand in place, frozen.

You’re breathing heavily, and you notice that your hands are shaking.

Your legs, too.

Cold sweat is running down your spine, and you feel lost.

He gets closer.

He’s so beautiful, and he gets more handsome with every step he takes towards your trembling figure.

“Money is nothing to me, you’re right. But you really think that, after everything you did to me, I’m just gonna pay your debts? After humiliating me like that, breaking my heart? Are you really that much of a shameless bitch, Y/N?”

His voice is sharp, and his words hit you like daggers.

But, to be honest, you were waiting for them to come. You knew they were.

That doesn’t make them less hurtful.

Seonghwa is right in front of you, and to look at him in the eyes you have to slightly tilt your head, cause he’s so much taller than you now.

He smells rich, and warm. Different than he used to, more mature.

He’s a man now, that much is very clear to you.

His proximity makes you even more nervous, but at the same time the familiarity of it gives you some confidence.

“I-I’m sorry, I swear I am”, you murmur, and you notice that tears are starting to fill your eyes.

He looks pleased at the sight of it, and your belly tightens at the implications of him being engaged in your suffering.

“Sorry? You’re sorry?” he repeats after you, chuckling as tears spill from your eyes, crossing your reddening cheeks.

“You want my money, Y/N? You want a bed and a roof on your head?”, he asks, and one of his hands unexpectedly comes up to your face, gently caressing it.

His touch is light and delicate, but you still feel shivers run through your body.

You nod desperately, murmuring a “yes, please” that he barely hears.

“Then you‘ll have to earn it”, he says.

His face is unreadable, but you can’t believe that, despite everything, he’d be willing to help. You feel so happy you could die, and you’re ready to do anything in order to save yourself from the streets.

“I will! I have my degree and I’ll be more than happy to-“, he stops you, and you frown.

From his expression it seems like he’s ready to make fun of you.

“A degree?”, he asks, and you nod, ready to explain yourself, but he doesn’t allow you to.

“You don’t need a degree to suck my dick, Y/N.”

The world is silent.

Your blood is too loud. You feel your heartbeat and his, you feel everything and nothing at the same time.

You’re confused, but not a single word comes out your mouth.

After that, he doesn’t say a word. He just goes a few steps back and leans against his desk.

His legs are open, and you see the bulge of his cock that’s clearly starting to get hard.

You don’t move, you just try to get your brain to function.

What does this mean? Is he serious?

He must be joking, right?

But he isn’t, and you know it: this is payback.

It was going too well, to smoothly.

And now, after all these years, he’s finally granted the chance to humiliate you and destroy you the way you did to him.

The thing is: you need the money. You really do, and you did say that you’d do anything to get it.

But this? This means whoring yourself out.

This means becoming a slut, and nothing more.

With this thought in mind, you move your first steps: not towards the door, to run as fast as possible away from him, but towards his imposing figure.

He laughs, almost as if he doesn’t actually believe what’s happening in front of him.

“You have no shame, do you? Are you really this pathetic?”

As you fall on your knees in front of him, you can’t do anything but agree with his words

He mutters a few curses, and you take the deepest breath ever known to man.

Then, you look up, and are met with the bulge of his cock, tight inside his expensive slacks.

“What a fucking slut”, he says, before moving his arms and grabbing you by the hair.

He forces your face against his crotch, and you almost fall: you find yourself grabbing his thighs in order not to.

He’s rough, and nothing like the gentle Seonghwa you knew and loved as a teenager: the one that would touch you as if you’d break, like you were a delicate flower.

You don’t really miss him.

“Wish I could call everyone from school to let them know that you’re sucking my dick for money, that you’re a worthless slut that would take dick for a few bucks”, he says, pushing his hips against your face, rubbing his clothed cock over it.

The smell of it is intense, and the weight of it scares you: it’s huge, you can tell. So fucking big that it’s not fair.

Your mind is racing, your heart is pounding, and you can feel the tears streaming down your face as you realize the depth of your desperation. But you push those thoughts aside, focusing on the task at hand. You’re ready to do whatever it takes to get the money you need.

As you lean forward, ready to fulfill his demands, a voice in your head screams at you to stop.

This isn't right. This isn't who you are.

But the fear of being homeless, of losing everything, pushes you forward.

That fear, and that humiliation, they also make you wetter than you’ve ever been before.

Shame burns into your chest, flames running through your veins.

“Bet you’d suck their cocks, too, wouldn’t you?”

His words sting in the most delicious way, and you find yourself purring against the big cock in front of your face.

“Wouldn’t you?” he asks again, grabbing your hair and forcing your face slightly upwards, enough to have your gazes meet.

It’s exhilarating to say the least, this feeling of shame and submission that is swimming through your shaking body.

“Y-yours, want- want your cock, not- only yours,” you mumble, your brain barely functioning at this point as you’re way too inebriated by the arousal building inside you.

He seems pleased, very much so. His tongue rapidly escapes his mouth and you watch, enchanted, as it wets his juicy lips.

I find yourself staring and wishing that tongue could be inside your pussy, forcing it open as more fluid escapes from it, leaving your panties wet and humid.

“Then take it out and get to work. Time is money, isn’t it? Don’t you wanna earn more?” he chuckles, moving around his seat.

You see him bend over a little and soon after that he takes his wallet, pulling out a shiny banknote.

You watch cautiously as he waves it in front of your face, and the image that appears before your eyes is one of the most humiliating and exciting you have ever seen.

You startle when, unexpectedly, he drops it against your helpless body.

The banknote brushes against your face before falling on your thighs, and this only motivates you to do better, to show him how much you are worth.

“Thank you, sir,” you whisper, finally getting to work and working his pants. You unfasten his belt, the sound loud and steady as your breathing increases and gets heavier.

It takes some effort, but you actually manage to take his pants down his thighs and have them reach the floor along with his boxer briefs.

They pool obscenely at his ankles, and he makes himself comfortable on his expensive chair, spreading his legs wider and wider.

You find the courage to look up at his cock, and the sight of it is enough to pull a moan from you, one that leaves you even more ashamed of yourself.

“So big,” you mutter out, pressing your own legs together from when your kneeling to find some release, to soothe the burning need to be filled up that’s been rushing through your body.

Your pussy clenches around nothing and it’s pathetic, because he hasn’t even touched you once.

Guess you’re just that much of a slut, after all.

“Yeah? You like it, slut? You like this big cock?” he asks, pushing his hips upwards and making said cock move in front of your face.

It’s thick, long, and so, so hard.

The tip of it is the prettiest shade of red and pink, and it’s glistening with his arousal.

Veins run through the length of it and you can see it pulse with the need to be shoved inside something.

That something is you.

Cause, after all, that’s your purpose here.

To be a hole for him to fuck into.

To be a thing, a nothing else. Nothing more than that.

“I love it, love your cock,” you whisper, reaching out to grab it at the base with your hands.

Seonghwa stops you, grabbing harshly at your wrists and forcing your body closer to his as you stumble forwards.

“No hands,” he orders, smiling maliciously.

“Lick it, start with my balls,” he orders, biting at his plump lower lip, his eyes shining with an intense darkness.

His words are, unsurprisingly, harsh and mean.

And, well, just as unsurprisingly, you find yourself loving them and enjoying the rush that they provide to you.

The air around you starts to get heavy and dense, and it’s almost like you can feel the weight of it as it presses down against your flushed skin.

Your blood is loud as it swims through your veins, and you hear beats fast, the sound of it reaching your ears.

His tone leaves out any possible refusal, so you just… obey.

It’s empowering, exhilarating.

It’s everything you’ve always craved without even knowing it.

Slowly, you lean over and breathe in, the powerful scent of his arousal hitting you and invading your senses, dominating your whole being.

The only thing that’s in your mind right now is the irresistible need of pleasing him and showing him that you’re worth his money, nothing else.

With that thought in mind, you finally get into work.

Your mouth salivating and wetting itself, you stick your tongue out and fulfill his wishes, lapping at his balls and nuzzling against the sensitive skin.

The groan he lets out vibrates through the room and sends shivers all the way down your spine.

“That’s it,” he grunts, as he pushes his hips forwards and works at his tie, untying it and proceeding then to open his nice dress shirt, button after button, showing inches of defined skin, muscles tensed with the way pleasure is circling around his body.

He’s rather magnificent, sitting in front of you and holding so much power, so much energy that it feels like the room is going to implode with it.

“Good girl,” he moans, forcing his hips upwards as you take them inside your mouth, the weight of his sack filling you up as you lick at it, feeling the skin and its texture against your tongue, moaning as your nose presses against the base of his dick, making it harder to breathe normally.

His words force a moan out of your mouth, too, and he notices it, chuckling softly through his low moans.

You feel something at your neck and notice soon enough that what’s now circling your throat isn’t is hand, no.

It’s his tie, forcing you closer to his balls and basically working as a fucking leash.

“Look at you, such an obedient little bitch, aren’t you?”

The way your hips stutter and wave doesn’t help, and you feel like a puppy wiggling their tail when presented with a treat.

“Bark,” he orders, allowing you to breathe and leaving your mouth empty, a trail of spit connection his balls, now shining and wet, with your parted, and roughed up lips.

You blush profoundly, your cheeks turning a crimson red as you consider his order.

Barking feels completely dehumanizing, and your hesitation doesn’t go unnoticed, not in the slightest.

Seonghwa tilts his head to the side, one of his eyebrows lifting up as he eyes you curiously, as if posing a challenge to you, daring you to try and refuse to follow one of his orders.

“It’s embarrassing…” you whisper, breathing heavily and trying to avoid looking at him in the eyes, failing at it when he tugs at the tie resting against your neck, making you get closer to the cock standing proudly in front of your face.

“Do I look like I fucking care?”

And soon enough, a bark is escaping your mouth, faint and barely audible.

It’s not enough, he says.

You bark again, loudly this time, shaking from where you’re kneeling and feeling the wetness between your legs get more difficult to ignore.

“That wasn’t so hard, was it? I’d say you’re a natural,” he snarls, laughing at you as he looks down at your body.

Tears of utter humiliation fill your pleading eyes, and the sight of it makes Seonghwa groan deeply.

He grabs his own dick at the base, giving it a few pumps, before hitting you in the face with the tip, smearing his precum all over your flushed face.

One of the tears you were fighting back betray you, escaping your lashed and running down your cheek.

Seonghwa licks his lips and rubs the tip of his dick against it, wetting his cock with your tears only to start rubbing it against your lips, making you taste your humiliation along with his arousal.

It’s salty and sour and sweet altogether, and you already find yourself getting addicted to it, needing more and more and more.

So you get your tongue out, lapping at the shiny tip of his cock. You circle around the head, moaning at the feeling of warmth that spreads through your tongue.

“Tastes good,” you mutter out, licking fervently at his cock as he keeps on stroking himself, grunting from where he’s sitting.

You go even further than just staying there, licking at it, and you take his wrist into your hand and pull it off his own dick, surprising him with your determination.

Seonghwa lets you have some fun with it, allowing you to reach out to grab the length of his cock.

You have it in your hands, finally.

You stroke it once, twice, before bending over a little bit to push the head inside your mouth, hollowing your cheeks and sucking gently at it to try and taste as much as possible of his delicious juice.

“Fuck,” he groans, using one of his hands to keep your hair out of your face, giving him space to look at your eyes as you get your mouth stuffed full of his thick cock.

You take your time, eager to savor every drop of his pleasure, to give yourself to him and make him satisfied like never before.

His cock slides between your parted lips with extreme ease, filling your mouth completely, giving you a sensation of fullness never felt before and leaving you inevitably curious to know how it would feel if he filled you up elsewhere too.

The reddened tip of his cock meets the back of your throat and choking sounds escape from your mouth, and when he hears them he just moans even more, louder than before.

He enjoys watching you struggle to take more in your mouth and it pushes you to relax your throat and let his big cock fill you completely, taking your breath away for a few seconds, and making spit fall from your lips and down your chin.

It’s so fucking messy and dirty and it makes your head spin with shame and arousal.

Your whole face is wet with a mixture of spit and tears and precum and you find yourself wanting and needing more of it.

“You look so good with your mouth stuffed full of my cock, this is exactly what you were born for,” he groans, pushing his trembling hips upwards and forcing another choking sound out of you, at which he utters out a few curses.

“I’ll double the money I was gonna give you if you bend over the desk and let me fuck you raw in the pussy, what do you say? Want a new dress? Some fucking new shoes?” he asks, still rutting his hips against your face and forcing you to swallow his whole cock down your aching throat.

You should probably refuse. Sucking Seonghwa's cock is one thing, but this? This would mean going way beyond, and the thought sends your mind into complete turmoil.

He seems to have little patience, and that's why he roughly grabs you by the hair and pulls his hard cock out of your mouth, leaving you empty and gasping.

"So? I don't have all day, Y/n," he asks, running his own hand along his cock, wet and slick thanks to your saliva that’s now coating it and slapping you in the face with the red tip, making you hiss at the impact.

“I want- I want three times the money for that,” you say, challenging him to deny your request, to say no and refuse.

He doesn’t.

“Let’s do four, since I also want to play with your asshole,” he smiles, bending over towards you and patting at your cheek like one would do with a puppy.

You gasp and try to find something to snarl back at him, but nothing comes out of your mouth, nothing but a little whimper that only serves to make him feel even more powerful.

Seonghwa stands up, and you notice how he is more or less dressed: his pants fallen to his ankles along with his boxers, the jacket resting on the back of the chair, the expensive white shirt completely open, showing off his sculpted chest and the magnificence of his body, covered in a thin layer of sweat.

Now that he is standing, Seonghwa looms even more over you, making your breath catch and your poor heart beat even faster.

Seonghwa grabs you by the hair, and the sudden movement forces you to stand up and follow his will.

"You're too dressed, what kind of slut are you?" he asks, grabbing the fabric of your blouse and pulling it slightly. In response, you bite your lip and decide to make amends, quickly unbuttoning your shirt and letting it fall softly to the ground.

You're not wearing a bra, you never do.

The air hitting your nipples only makes them more turgid, and your skin is crossed by countless shivers.

He gasps at the sight of your exposed skin, and it makes you feel so good, to be looked at with such want, with pure and utter hunger and desire.

Seeing Seonghwa burning with the desire to possess you gives you a courage that you probably wouldn't have otherwise, so you push yourself further, unbuttoning your skirt and letting it fall forgotten at your feet.

Black lace panties adorn your body, and you feel the wet and soaked fabric rubbing against your most sensitive spot.

You are left only with the soft white knee-high socks and your shiny black loafers, standing in front of one of the richest and most powerful men in Korea.

“That’s more like it,” he chuckles, licking his lips and looking at you from head to toe, a mischievous look in his eyes.

“You’re so hot, Y/n. You made the right choice, coming here. This little body of yours was made to be fucked, and what better way to earn money than spread your legs and let me do just that, huh?” he murmurs, as one of his hands goes down to his cock. He strokes himself as he watches you, and it makes your skin burn, to be looked at in such a dirty, naughty manner.

His tie is still around your neck, the only garment covering you along with your panties and knee-high socks.

The black fabric is in perfect contrast with your skin, and even though the tie is very light, it feels immensely heavy where it rests.

"Fuck me," you whisper to Seonghwa, because you too are starting to feel extremely horny and in need of attention.

Seonghwa raises an eyebrow, and his hand collides with your cheek, making you turn your face to the side.

The blow wasn't overly strong, but still impactful. Enough to make you catch your breath for a second and to remind you who is in control here.

"Rude. Where are your manners?" Seonghwa asks, dangerously approaching you and grabbing your chin, squeezing the skin and forcing you to look at him.

"Please, I beg you, sir, fuck me," you whimper, now completely abandoned to him and totally under his control.

"Now, that's better," Seonghwa whispers, and shortly after he makes your lips collide in a quick and fierce kiss. He bites your lip, making you moan against his mouth, before pulling away from you.

"Good girl. You act all tough, but you just want someone to put you in your place, don't you? Want me to show you who’s in charge?"

His words are exactly what you were hoping for, and the wetness between your legs increasing only confirms thqt.

You nod. What would be the point in denying anything? Right. There’s no point, and you know it. He know is too, it’s pretty obvious. He’s always been able to read you, and this is the same. Years passed by, but deep down you guys still know each other.

Seonghwa, at your admission and your being so yielding, can only swell with pride and satisfaction.

He approaches you, and the world spins wildly: he grabs you by the hair, pulls you towards the desk, and forces you to bend over it, pushing your head against the polished and intensely scented mahogany of his desk.

You have your ass up, covered only by your panties.

You hear Seonghwa swear and soon one of his hands clashes with the sensitive skin of your butt, and he gives you a strong spank.

You flinch, gasp, and squirm, and he takes it as encouragement to hit you again: two, three, four times.

Now the mark of his hand lies on your skin, and you feel completely possessed and owned by Seonghwa.

"You have no idea how many times I've thought about you over the years. How many times I've thought about hurting you, having you all to myself even just once," Seonghwa confesses, running his hands over your ass, caressing you heavily.

His words are intoxicating.

"I've thought about you too, I swear, Seonghwa. Sir. I shouldn't have, but I did. I-I never forgot about you," you whisper, instinctively moving your hips upwards, trying to keep his hands on you for as long as possible.

You're not lying, you really mean what you said. Seonghwa has always been a constant in your life, it's undeniable. Your biggest regret and remorse. Your biggest and burning desire.

"Shut up, Y/n," Seonghwa commands, and you feel him grab the expensive fabric of your panties. A few seconds later, a loud noise fills the room.

He's torn them off, reduced them to shreds.

Pieces of fabric fall to your feet and your wet pussy is now completely exposed to him.

You feel drops of pleasure escaping from your trembling pussy and wetting your thighs, and you try to relieve the looming pressure by rubbing your legs together, but Seonghwa stops you.

He first grabs your hips, then your ass.

Seonghwa spreads your cheeks open, and you hear the air move as he bends down and spits on you.

He fucking spits on you.

His saliva runs down from your ass and to your pussy, adding wetness and naughtiness to the mixture.

He’s not satisfied, so he spits again, this time closer to your asshole.

You feel his breath against your sensitive skin and you find yourself holding your breath.

“This little hole, fuck, I wish I could just fuck it,” he groans, knowing damn well that he can’t just do that.

“N-Next time…” you utter out, wiggling your hips to try and meet his touch.

“You plan on coming here to get fucked more? Are you that greedy, you little whore?” he asks, laughing a little as he leans over you to just go and bite the skin of your ass, still covered by his handprint.

“S-so greedy, sir. I’ll come back whenever you want, do whatever you want,” you confess with a shaking voice, making Seonghwa laugh at you for how pathetic you are.

“You really have no shame. What a fucking slut,” he adds, before actually going silent.

What you feel next makes your eyes roll back and your hands reach out to the end of the desk to grab the wood and gain some support out of it.

His wet tongue is sliding against your little hole, wetting it more and more and making it pulse with the need to be filled up.

It’s a foreign feeling, to have someone eat your ass out like this, but Seonghwa seems like a starved man as he holds your cheeks open and dives in, licking and kissing and spitting and making your whole world turn upside down.

“Tastes good,” he groans, breath heavy and voice full of lust.

He pushes the tip of his tongue inside of your ass, and it makes you see stars.

Seonghwa fucks you with it, again and again, making slurping sounds.

One of his hands slides down and you feel one of his long, slender fingers rub against your wet hole.

“Just a finger, what do you say?” he murmurs, asking you for permission.

A permission you can’t help but grant him, nodding and murmuring a “please” that you’re not even sure was audible enough.

Seonghwa wastes no time, and soon his thumb makes its way into your tight and warm hole.

The sensation is unparalleled: you feel completely filled.

It doesn't matter that it's just a finger, you feel like you could explode at any moment.

Your legs tremble uncontrollably, and loud moans escape from your lips.

Seonghwa also moans, as he fucks your asshole with his finger.

You are already lost in pleasure, and he has not even touched your pussy yet.

It makes you feel really dirty, really perverse.

You feel like an actual whore begging to be filled.

“So tight,” he comments, and you feel this cock being shoved against the back of your thighs, as he smears precum over your skin and rubs against your legs to get some relief to his aching dick.

“Please, I want your cock, sir. Fuck my pussy, please, please, H-Hwa…” you beg, trying to get him to finally push his dick inside of you, and you feel already close to the verge of tears with how desperate you are.

“Here it comes,” he murmurs, finally giving the both of you what you crave the most.

With your thumb still inside you, you feel Seonghwa moving behind you.

He grabs his cock at the base and brings the tip closer to you, rubbing it against the sensitive and wet skin of your pussy, against your lips, right between your juicy folds, and pushing against your swollen and red clitoris.

A moan escapes your lips, and you find yourself spreading your legs even wider and begging him to put his cock inside you once and for all.

Finally, Seonghwa rubs the swollen tip of his cock against your wet hole, teasing you for just a few seconds before pushing it inside your pussy.

In one hard thrust, Seonghwa buries his thick cock inside you, making you scream in a mixture of pleasure and pain.

You feel so full, with both of your holes filled by him, his cock pressing inside you and stretching you completely.

You don't even notice a drop of saliva escaping from your lips and running down your chin, and if you could see yourself, you too would think of yourself as a whore.

“Fuck, this pussy is so good,” groans Seonghwa, and you make the effort of turning your head to try and look at him as he fills you up.

His head is thrown back, his neck exposed and lucid with sweat, and he seems completely lost in pleasure as he starts to rut inside of your pussy, fucking you and making you his.

For the first moments, Seonghwa's thrusts are not calculated, but dictated by his need to feel something warm enveloping his cock.

He enjoys the moment and ignores your helpless body, seeking only his pleasure.

Seonghwa's cock slides easily into your body, your wet pussy emitting dirty and exciting sounds as it is filled by his cock.

You tremble under his thrusts, and soon Seonghwa accelerates the movements of his hips, sinking into you with more force and precision.

He fucks you like he would fuck a whore, pushing all the way into your pussy and moving his finger into your ass.

He is not completely satisfied, though.

That's why you see him bend over you, pushing his cock even deeper into your pussy. Seonghwa brings two fingers of the hand that is free to your lips, and pushes them into your mouth, filling you even there.

"Christ," he gasps, starting to move the fingers he pushed into your mouth.

"Look at yourself, Y/n. You have all your holes filled by me, you're getting fucked in each of these tight little holes for money," Seonghwa grunts, and as you feel the saliva escaping from your lips, you see his eyes getting darker, more intense.

He moans and gasps, fucking you with all the strength and passion he has in his body, moving his fingers inside you and fucking you without the slightest mercy.

“Make it worth it, clench this pussy on me, huh?” he moans, despite the fact that your pussy already is clenching and hugging his cock as tightly as humanly possible.

You feel every movement of his inside you. Your skin and his rubbing together, his cock caressing the most intimate and deepest parts of you, sending electric shocks to run through every inch of your body and his as well.

Seonghwa's legs tremble as he sinks into you, fucking your mouth with his fingers and forcing you to choke on them, making you cough and then making your holes contract around him consequently. The rough and forceful way in which he is fucking you forces your body to move against the desk, and your wet and needy clitoris rubs against the cold and shiny wood of the desk.

Your nipples in contact with the mahogany stimulate you in the most delicious way possible, and you are completely intoxicated by the pleasure that grows rapidly inside you.

Your orgasm is getting closer and closer, and the feeling of being completely at the mercy of his desires only increases the strength of your pleasure.

Seonghwa towers over you, filling you everywhere, and could do anything to you: you wouldn't object, you wouldn't refuse anything. You would do anything for him. Anything he asked for and more.

Everything.

Not for the money, for him.

You don't tell him, that's for sure. But you think it.

Seonghwa is the only thing on your mind, not your rent to pay or your empty pockets.

Only: Seonghwa. Seonghwa. Seonghwa.

“Yeah, say my name. Fucking scream it,” he groans after he notices how you’re chanting his name in pleasure.

He takes his fingers off your mouth, giving you all the freedom to moan his name.

He forces you to scream, fucking you more harshly, a hand grabbing your hair and pulling at it enough for you to arise from the desk and for you spine to bend and for him to reach you and kiss your neck.

The position you’re in isn’t the most comfortable, but it sure as hell is exiting.

Seonghwa kisses your neck and bites at it, sucking the sensitive skin long enough to leave a plethora of marks behind.

Tomorrow you’ll be covered in his marks, you’ll look debouched and devastated and his.

His thumb leaves your ass empty and gaping, and now he’s completely focused on fucking your pretty aching pussy.

“Mine, Y/n. From now on you’re mine. You’ll get everything you want, but you have to be mine. My slut, my little cum dump,” he groans, licking all over your neck and sucking your ear lob in his mouth as he moans into your ear.

“Yes! Yes! M’yours, I-I’ll let you do anything, a-anything,” you moan, feeling floaty and lost, shaking and pushing your hips backwards to meet his trusts.

“I’m close, so close,” you confess, hiccuping between your helpless moans.

Seonghwa growls, and he fucks into you one last time before taking his cock out of your pussy and taking a step back.

You whine and complain, begging him to put it back in, to just do something.

“I want to see your face when you cum. I want to look into your eyes as I cream that pussy,” he explains, grabbing you by the hips and manhandling you in the position he prefers.

You’re sitting on the desk, you legs spread open and you pussy glistening with a mixture of your juices and his, all puffy and needy as your hole clenches around nothing.

“Ask me for it. Beg for my cock,” he says, voice mean as he touches his cock and teases his balls.

You have no dignity left at this point, so you don’t hesitate and do just as he asked you to.

“Please, sir, I need it. My pussy needs it, please, please,” you cry out, tears actually falling from your pretty eyes as you decide to tease him and tempt him a little bit.

One of your hands slides down your body, and you rub at one of your nipples, pinching it and feeling the most delicious pain ever.

With the other hand you go down to rub fervently at your needy little clit, circling around it and playing with the most sensitive part yourself.

“Please? Pretty please? Give it to me, Hwa, I beg you, sir, fuck me,” you continue, hand trailing down your pussy as you spread your own folds for him, exposing yourself like never before.

Wet juices fall from your pussy and are close to pool on his desk, and the sight of it is completely nasty.

“Don’t you dare fucking touch what’s mine,” he growls, getting closer to you and slapping your own hands away from your own body.

He directs his cock to your pleading pussy and pushes back in, spreading you open once again.

The new angle touches the right spots, reaches exactly where you were craving his cock to hit, and your eyes roll back in pleasure.

One of his hands reaches your throat, and he just keeps it there. An heavy weight against your neck, the promise of the most beautiful threat.

Seonghwa looks at you with something hidden in his eyes, and a wicked smile shows on your face.

“Choke me,” you dare him, biting at your lower lip as moans force themselves out of your mouth.

“You fucking brat,” moans Seonghwa, and the hand around your throat tightens, and tightens, and tightens.

The sensation of air and oxygen being denied to you is exhilarating, it's wonderful. Seonghwa even controls this: he decides whether to let you breathe or not. The thought makes your head spin and only increases the pleasure that floods your body.

Seonghwa's hand tightens again and again around your neck, choking you while looking into your eyes, dominating your body and soul.

“C-Close,” you whisper with the little air you have left, legs shaking around his waist as you sense pleasure building up inside your belly.

“Cum. Cum on my cock, you pathetic little thing,” orders Seonghwa and finally, he decides to grant you some mercy: his thumb comes down between your spread legs, and he starts to rub at you clit with precise movements, making you cry out loud and sound.

“Fuck! More, more, harder!” You shout, and Seonghwa lets go of his hold around your neck to grab your hip and use it as leverage to fuck more harshly inside your cunt.

His cock slides inside you with extreme ease, and his movements are precise and determined, and the tip of his cock rubs against all the right spots, making you breathless from how much it makes you enjoy.

Your hands reach his shoulders, and you cling to him tightly, scratching them from under his shirt and pushing it away, uncovering his back and scratching his skin.

Seonghwa doesn't seem to mind, on the contrary as your nails dig into his skin he only moans more, only rubs his fingers more decisively against your clitoris.

Seeing him so lost in pleasure and so deeply aroused is exactly the push you needed to finally succumb to your own orgasm.

The force with which you come is devastating: your legs tremble with strength, your breath breaks in your throat and the gasps and moans that escape from your lips are filled with desperation and pure pleasure. Your pussy contracts and tightens around Seonghwa's hard cock, as if wanting to keep it inside forever. Your clitoris pulses and sends electricity throughout your body.

Your turgid nipples brush against Seonghwa's chest as you hold him close and tight to you.

But what surprises both of you even more is another thing: the explosive way in which your orgasm overwhelmed you, making you squirt hot and juicy liquid around his cock, along both of your thighs. It seems to never end, and you surrender to pleasure as you squirt again and again against him, squeezing his cock and massaging it with your pussy.

“Fuck, you’re a slut, you’re a fucking slut, you just squirted all over my cock,” he groans, fucking into you as he forces you to give him even more of your precious juices.

His hand, the one that was rubbing at your clit, is covered in it, all moist and shiny and wet.

He brings it to his lips, sucks his own fingers and tastes you, your eyes spread open as you watch him savor your squirt.

“So fucking good,” he moans, before reaching down to get more of it, rubbing his hand against your folds and making you cry in overstimulation.

“Taste yourself,” he orders, before smearing your own juices against your lips, making you lick them clean as he watches.

“Want your cum. My pussy- it’s so empty, please, please, fill me up, cum in me,” you beg, tears falling from you eyes as your body begs for some mercy, begs to be filled, begs to be owned.

You lose control of it, and just slump on the desk, back hitting the wood and legs spreading even further.

“Take it, fuck! Take my cum, take it all in you pussy, here it fucking comes, ‘s all yours,” he moans, starting to slur his words as he shoves his dick inside of your abused cunt without a care in the world, the slide made even easier thanks to your powerful orgasm.

You feel it clearly: Seonghwa's hands run up your body, grabbing your breasts and squeezing them tightly.

The thrusts into your pussy become more erratic, stronger, more unrestrained.

Seonghwa's eyes become burning, shining with pleasure.

His moans become lower, deeper, strong enough to make your heart race, and you feel him bury himself one last time in your wet pussy, all the way in.

You feel him fill you with hot cum, squirting his thick and warm liquid inside you, flooding your wet and trembling pussy, abused to exhaustion.

You feel full to the brim, completely filled with his cum.

Seonghwa trembles, leans forward and kisses your breasts, while his hips make small instinctive movements, and he tries to push even deeper inside you, trying to bury his own cum deep in your pussy as far as humanly possible.

You gently pet his hair, but he doesn’t seem to mind it.

He just lays there for a while, keeping his cock inside of you to plug his cum inside your cunt.

“So full,” you whisper, clenching your pussy around him and enjoying the feeling of being so utterly used.

You both enjoy these moments of quietness, both still shaken and exhausted, taken by waves of pleasure and with labored breath.

You never would have imagined that this day would have gone this way, but honestly you wouldn't change a thing, and you don't care if this truly makes you a whore.

The only thing you care about is having had Seonghwa in such a way, being possessed by him like this and getting exactly what you needed, what you wanted.

After a few endless minutes, Seonghwa leaves a gentle bite on your breast: this time it doesn't hurt at all. It's somehow delicate.

You still flinch when he does it, and you hold back a smile. He pulls away from you, sits up.

You don't dare to imagine what condition you're in, but the way he looks at you makes you understand that it must be quite a sight.

Seonghwa pulls his cock out of your pussy, and you groan in dissent, feeling suddenly empty and sad, not wanting his cum to come out of your pussy. You want to keep it inside you as long as possible.

Seonghwa doesn't speak as he gets dressed.

He puts on his boxers and pants, buttons up his shirt. Adjusts his cuffs, his collar.

He does all this without ever taking his eyes off your body.

When you regain some strength, you decide to get off the desk, and you have to hold onto it to avoid falling.

Your panties are torn, so you can't put them back on.

You just slip on your skirt and blouse, and feel a drop of Seonghwa's cum escape from your pussy and run down your flushed thighs.

When you glance at him, you see him fumble with his wallet.

Realization of what’s going to happen sinks in, and you feel your cheeks turn a crimson red, and shame overtakes your body and overwhelms you completely.

“This should be enough for today,” Seonghwa says, his eyes looking dark and somewhat empty.

He hands you over a bunch of bills, and you spread your eyes as you take in the actual amount of money he just handed you.

That’s more than a month of your usual income.

You just made it in a couple of hours.

“I- T-thank you,” you mutter out, at a loss of words.

Seonghwa snickers, and watches cautiously as you take the money from him with shaking hands, face full of disbelief.

“Give your number to my secretary, Y/n. I’ll call you when your service will be needed. Be ready to come to work at any time, got it? Whenever I need a bucket to cum into, whenever I need to empty my balls, you drop everything and come to me to take my dick, no objections, no buts. We have a deal, right?”

Seonghwa's words are cruel, raw. But you didn't expect anything different, you knew well what you were getting into.

And you accepted to offer yourself to him with that awareness.

So, even though you feel humiliated, mocked, used, you nod. Grabbing your purse from the floor and carefully putting the banknotes inside, you notice that Seonghwa doesn't fail to observe your legs in the meantime.

"I'll be the best whore you've ever had," you confirm, forcing yourself to abandon lucidity and pride, clutching your purse as if it were the most precious thing in the world.

Seonghwa sits at the desk, arranging the papers that you moved with your body and bends slightly to smell the scent of your fluids that have soaked into the wood.

"You can go. Oh, and don't clean your thighs. You have to go home with my cum dripping from your pussy, because if you still have a place to sleep at it's thanks to that cum, and I want anyone who looks at you enough to see it: do you understand?"

You swallow loudly, but you dare not argue.

You blink and try to maintain at least a hint of control, moving your legs slightly as you feel liquid coming out of your body.

"Yes, sir," you reply, bowing slightly in farewell.

Seonghwa seems to have returned to what he was when you first entered the room, but that doesn't surprise you at all.

However, you notice him grabbing the torn edges of your panties from the floor and tucking them into the pocket of his expensive pants.

He dismisses you immediately with a wave of his hand, and you gather your strength and leave the room: destroyed, exposed, without panties and with the purse full of money.

When you leave the room, there is only his secretary, the girl who escorted you to the door.

You have no doubt that she heard everything, but she smiles just as she did when you entered a few hours earlier.

You leave her your phone number, she writes it down in her agenda with precise professionalism.

You don't miss the quick glance she gives to your legs.

You don't cover yourself, you do as Seonghwa ordered you to.

You obey.

You smile, say goodbye to the secretary.

You enter the elevator, the doors close, and for the first time you look at yourself in the mirror.

You are not the same person as you were this morning.

You fix your makeup as quickly as possible and smile.

You leave.

It takes no more than two days for your phone to ring, and for it to be an unknown number.

Time to work.

[shadesoflsk]

RETROSPECTION & OUTCOME

pairing: leon kennedy x afab reader.

summary: The journey of healing is not an easy one. Obstacles and doubts filled the path Leon decided to take. However, the agent had planted the seed of self improvement and with your help, a strong and resilent tree will grow.

warnings: strangers to friends to lovers, mentions of reader being a nurse, age gap (reader is 25+) angst, hurt/comfort, descriptions of gore, blood and violence, no alcohol consumption but Leon attempts to, Leon's inner thoughts, self doubts, lack of self confidence (from Leon's part) mild mentions of religion trauma, smut, handjob, Leon cries during it, kind of switch Leon, needy Leon (give him a hug please) p in v, creampie, fluffy at the end (yipeee)

word count: 14k

author's note: helloooo :] This is my first try at writing a long fic, I had so much fun writing it. It all started as a character study for Leon and then it ended up as... this lmao. For the first chapters, I had vendetta Leon in mind and at the last one we finally have DI Leon! Please... if you see any mistakes no you don't. Anyway love you guys hope you like this as much as I do.

— masterlist

I. ETERNAL DAMNATION.

His cold blue eyes are a pool of misery and misfortune. The dreadful gaze of an individual who once was and continues to be subject to the violent reality of what a government can do.

He remains stoic to whatever adversity he has to face, one look at him and you would believe this man has no feelings whatsoever. He kills, he gets paid, repeat. A never-ending loop in which many would believe Leon finds pleasure. Especially since he carries himself as the Government Golden Boy aka best weapon. To use and to dispose of, Leon S. Kennedy.

Shoulder pats and praise words stir up a pot filled with anger and hatred — emotions that Leon doesn't often feel with others, just with himself.— He tries not to dwell on them, but it gets so difficult and challenging whenever he hears that his own achievements are cause for celebration. Do these assholes know how many people, infected people, he had to kill in order to bring peace? No, they don’t. Unbeknownst to them, those people could have been saved.

At least in Leon’s mind. 

The suited men surround him. Privilege and smugness are qualities that Leon would often use to describe what those who hire his service are. Those congratulations and fake praises ring in Leon’s mind as he keeps thinking about the people he had to betray and kill for the ‘sake’ of his country, for his nation, and for the ego of his president. 

But he takes the compliments, like a good boy. The president believes he hit the jackpot with a rightful agent who is proud of his country. God Bless America and in God we trust, he says as his hand reaches for Leon’s. The blue-eyed agent hesitates each time, out of fear of tainting his oh-so-dear boss’ white shirt. Because nobody cared enough to spare him new clothes and a wet towel to clean himself. A trophy to show the world what a powerful human weapon they had. Rough, tall, and with calloused hands, hands of a killer. 

Leon S. Kennedy is proof of what the cruelty of a government can do. He is no longer a human, but the shell of a man. His name is printed in many documents which shows the gruesome acts he had to endure, in the name of the country. “Agent Leon S. Kennedy had successfully retrieved a sample of the virus.” “Condor One saved Baby Eagle.” He has received a plethora of names yet none of them really encapsulated who he was.

They have shown that they do not care about their citizens, like at all. Raccoon City was a prime example of that. He sounds like a broken record, the memory replaying in his memory every mission he gets assigned. But, for him, it was his first-hand experience with how cruel and gruesome reality could be.

Tough call, they say. We did what we could, they added. Leon knows all of those phrases by heart now. His gentle nature remains in him, even though it was covered by layers of a rough past and self-taught distrust. But even now, at his grown age, he fully believes they could have done so much more.

His mind is all over the place whenever he comes back from a mission. The usual white and never-changing walls surround everyone at the gathering that the president holds each time Leon ‘succeeds’ in a mission. His fingers seek any type of comfort, they twitch, they pinch his own clothes but nothing works. 

People notice, they do. It’s obvious that the spotlight is on him yet he never embraces it. Simple nods and awkward smiles are his way to go and signature gestures. Deep inside, he knows those white-collared dicks spare him weird and pitiful glances every chance they get.

His chest burns with a desire for solidarity and altruism. He feels a lot and feels everything too deep for his own liking. His core dances between his hatred for heroism and the need to be a hero. He doesn’t believe he’s one. Throughout his life he has contemplated who he is and the type of man he has grown to be. His mind is a living hell and he’s the demon incarnated.

He wonders when it all started. Maybe he was doomed for the start, as he stood in front of his parents’ grave asking God why. 

Deuteronomy 31:8; “The Lord himself goes before you and will be with you; he will never leave you nor forsake you. Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged.” The catholic father who used to hold the mass every Sunday said one morning. Now, did God forget about him? He should have prayed harder, to escape his own damnation.

Strained screams and the reek of rotten flesh fill his dreams. Madness and chaos are the main plots in his nightmares in which he pleads to stop having. His own reality was a mirror of every agony he has to face every day in his line of work. Why is God punishing him even in his dreams?

Those cries of pain and the smell of both burnt flesh and gunpowder are a toxic combination to Leon’s messed up mind. To him, they served as an everlasting proof of his devilish nature. He realizes that the image of innumerable lifeless bodies’ guts all over the floor with his brains smashed over the ground is a common occurrence for him. He becomes desensitized albeit his soul hurting for those who lay at his feet.

Now, he knows that what he's doing is in the name of survival. Millions of people live unaware of the dangerous situations he has to fight on a daily basis, they get to sleep on a warm bed next to their loved ones. If he wants to keep that on, he ought to kill.

But he wouldn’t do it otherwise, he wasn’t built for that life.

But despite that, the usual eerie feeling washes over him whenever he has to pull the trigger. He has grown accustomed to them, on the battlefield he was a fiery pawn, following orders as they told him to.

But as soon as his character ends his performance, his facade and mask falls off his face. He’s no longer a puppet from his higher-ups, he was just him. Leon.

II. RECOGNITION.

He places Matilda — his brush to paint every ground with blood — on his nightstand. To be fair, that’s a habit he can’t just let go. After every mission, his mind is all over the place for the next few days. Every sound activates a fear deep within him that keeps him awake at night and worried during the day.

He washes his hands, a thorough ritual he follows step by step. His hands touch the water, lukewarm to bring him some kind of comfort. He rinses away every blood spot he may have engraved on his bruised skin. The warm and clear liquid reaches his fingernails, which he meticulously scrubs, washing away any leftover of someone’s brain. 

He takes pride in being clean. However, it had developed into an obsession at this point. Being dirty meant killing, and killing meant despair. So, he tries to avoid his gaze on the mirror each time he arrives home. Sadly, he usually doesn’t recognize the man that is staring back at him.

Eventually, he turns off the faucet and walks towards the couch. He’s tired, both mentally and physically. He doesn’t get any younger and living as an agent surely doesn’t help his case. But at last, his home. Safe.

He turns on the TV, he’s welcomed by the News Channel which he quickly changes. Nowadays, it appears that nothing good happens in this messed up world, and he doesn’t want to bring sorrow to his home too. He searches through the vast choices of channels until something catches his eye. Casablanca.

A feeble smile forms on his face, a simple thing like that brings Leon a small percentage of happiness, which it’s a lot given his constant state of dullness. 

He sometimes quotes phrases from the movies he watches. He genuinely expects someone to notice, his tired blue eyes would roam over the numerous faces of agents, hoping someone catches the meaning behind his words. He’s tired, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t want to chat with someone.

Nobody seemed to notice, maybe they were busy.

Curiously, he had changed the channel just at the right moment when Rick Blaine said his line. Leon’s favorite.

“I never make plans that far ahead.” Both the character and Leon say simultaneously. It brings Leon a sense of joy. Pathetically enough, his hobbies remind him that he is, in fact, still human. 

He sighs, looking around his apartment. It was dull, it showed his lack of decoration and personal touch. He believes there was no point in placing ornaments or things of that sort since he doesn’t even spend most of his time there. In recollection, he has no home. At least not physically.

He’s a man of the world, people look at him and see someone who is strong and independent rather than a simple man. But his heart’s heavy, with a burden and anguish that no painkiller could ease.

He’s tempted to grab a bottle from his cabinet. Drown in the burning liquid and pass out. He doesn’t like alcohol. But he has always been weak to addictions. So, even when he was a rookie cop and his girlfriend broke up with him, he ran to the nearest bar and took all the booze he could. Maybe he should’ve noticed the red flags, and maybe gone to therapy or something like that. But… oh, right, the next day the world literally ended for him.

But, he refrains from doing so. Deep down, he knew that letting his addiction win would be a deadly solution to his problems. Acknowledging is the first step to recovery, experts say. However, he knew that he couldn’t do it alone.

Before even letting more negative thoughts come into his mind. He gets up from the couch and walks toward the bathroom, again. He stays in front of the door for a few seconds, as if scared of going back there. Eventually, he does enter.

His hand reaches for the switch and the lights are turned on. The luminescent white light revealed his face in front of the mirror. He takes one, two, and three deep breaths before fully opening his eyes. 

He bites his lips, seeking a sort of relief from that action yet he bites too hard that almost draws blood. He’s trying his best, this mundane act is no longer something that he does daily. So, grant him some recognition. 

His eyes travel and land on the mirror and after a while, he fully sees himself. His eyes are wide open, not because he was surprised to discover the man that was in front of him. But to compare him to the one he used to be. 

Just a few years ago, his blond hair was still bright, showing signs of his thorough routine. But now, it has turned into a black mop that could no longer be compared to his past self. His stubble has grown too, he was a late bloomer, he didn’t grow a beard until he reached the age of 27 when he could finally see some signs of pores growing hair. But to see his face so… rugged and rough was definitely a slap back to reality.

He takes two steps back, his hand reaching for the hem of his shirt. Swiftly, he takes it off, revealing his chest and abdomen. He was no stranger to his own physique since he obviously showers. 

However, the sight that the mirror provided was very different from seeing his point of view. His eyes were observing someone else’s perspective, if he ever had the chance to date someone they would see… that.

A chest which was filled with scars and bruises. They were like tattoos, imprinted on his skin. Those will never fade and if he grants someone the misfortune of dating him, will they be repulsed by the idea of witnessing his tainted self?

He wasn’t a hero, he was far away from calling himself that. But he is starting to think that maybe, just maybe, those marks can remind him of his arduous path. Not in a condescending way, but in a fulfilling memory.

III. FURTHERANCE.

He feels… weird. It’s been a while since he last got a haircut, and having someone holding scissors next to his neck wasn’t something he was looking for. But, there he is.

It took everything in him to call the hairdresser. He has long forgotten how to even speak to someone in a normal setting. “Agent Kennedy here, haircut, out.” He couldn’t say that! 

At last, he booked an appointment. It wasn’t the most expensive place, not because Leon didn’t have the money but rather, because he wasn’t looking to be surrounded by luxuries and opulence. A cheap but nice place would do.

Once he arrived, he noticed that he didn’t match well with the place. He knew he carried an aura of mystery and unapproachability but Jesus, it was now obvious with the way some old ladies kept looking at him as if asking: Who the hell is this man?

All of his previous actions led him to where he’s sitting now. 

The granny behind him keeps showering in compliments which he couldn’t quite understand. A few years ago, he may have blushed and waved a hand dismissively, but now? He doesn’t see how he could be called a handsome man.

For him, looking good and taking care of himself had stopped being a requirement a few months ago. But it wasn’t something that happened out of the blue. He gradually started noticing the changes and once he realized, his whole appearance had changed. 

His eyes are piercing and never changing, an unmistakable aura of exhaustion and helpness surrounds him. Yet, once the old lady's eyes land on him, he can’t help but smile back. It was always in his nature — he lives for others.

It’s always been like this. Naturally, his gullibility and his unfounded faith have shaped and molded him differently throughout the course of years. Having to survive an apocalypse, taking care of an infant, and getting betrayed by a certain someone would sequentially take a toll on him. Nonetheless, his primal wish for altruism and hope will always remain in him. They were his roots which led to creating a strong and fortified trunk. 

He’s still hoping this tree will thrive.

The lady asks him how long has it been since he last cut his hair, and he doesn’t know how to respond. Normally, he would cut it himself, since time was priceless and he couldn’t nor wanted to go to a specific place to get his hair trimmed. So he learned by himself, which wasn’t the safest option.

By the way the old woman’s hands brush on his hair, shaking and trembling due to the years, he knows that she knows. It’s obvious by the way some strands are awkwardly cut and overall most of them were misshapen. A poor attempt at maintaining his heartthrob boy hairstyle.

He remains silent — for most of the time. —  He doesn’t answer any questions that were directed at him. Not because he didn’t want to, it’s just that his line of job never prepared him for small talk. In fact, chit-chat just meant that someone was trying to gather information out of him, which prompted him to just refrain from speaking

The government has fucked him up.

He acknowledges it. But it’s not easy to make a change when that something is the only thing he has known for at least 15 years of his life. The curse of despair had so unlucky landed on him and he knew no witchcraft which could prevent him from that.

His mind register most things people would overlook. Given his duty at the job, he ought to be an observer. Yeah, he is also a fighter but he relies heavily on his analyzing skills before attacking. Knowing your enemy before striking is what has saved him every damn time.

His permanently furrowed eyebrows and cold eyes are the first thing he notices in the mirror as the woman keeps cutting some of his hair. A hand unconsciously reaches for the little space between his brows. 

Maybe if he stops frowning.

Maybe if he stops scowling.

Could he give a better impression of himself?

It’s lacking authenticity, he feels like he’s acting rather than being genuine. But for now, he tries forcing a gentle smile which doesn’t meet his eyes yet it’s better than almost pouting every time he breathes. 

All of a sudden, the bell of the door rings announcing that someone else has arrived. Some of the old ladies who are waiting for their turn start getting up from their chairs to greet the person who had just come in.

An everyday customer, that must be. Leon thought.

He was oblivious of how much you are going to change his life.

He can’t see you, not yet. But as the observer he is, he can deduce that this said individual is genuinely loved and appreciated. A drastic contrast between the way he’s received when he returns from a mission. Fake laughs, fake thankful words. 

A complete fraud.

You walk as if you own the place, but your stride doesn’t come off as haughty or arrogant. You exude an aura of familiarity, hospitality, and therefore a gentleness that it’s foreign to Leon. 

You walk towards his seat, where the granny is cutting his hair. As soon as the gray-haired woman sees you, he observes how her eyes light up with delight and joyfulness he hadn’t seen before. 

“Adelaide…” You stop before you even reach Leon. He admires the scene developing through the mirror. He sees you for the first time, you’re definitely a nurse or at least you work in the healthcare area given your uniform. You have your hands on your hips and a playful glare was formed on your face. If he could guess, you just caught this lady doing something she wasn’t supposed to do.

“I think I told you you should be resting.” You squint your eyes as you keep looking at Adelaide, Leon takes note of her name. You are accusing her, yet your friendly demeanor doesn’t falter. 

It’s refreshing to see innocent social interactions. It's a welcome-back reality check. At least, at this moment, he could embrace the tranquility. Although it will end as soon as the hairdresser informs him that his hair is done.

“You know I can’t stand still…” Her voice comes out as a booming melody. Even though the years were obvious by the wrinkles on her face, she sounded so animated and beaming. “This job is everything I have ever known.”

Now he can agree on something. However, he is fully aware the situation is deadly different. Between cutting hair and slitting someone else’s throat, there is a vast difference. But, in his mind, he could already make up a conversation based on that information.

“I know, but…” You take a step further and place a hand on the granny’s shoulder. Leon couldn’t help but feel like an outsider now that the three of them were reflected in the mirror. “You could just take a few days off… Your shoulder will thank you for it.”

As you advise the granny your eyes dart from her eyes in the mirror to Leon’s. 

For the first time.

You acknowledge his presence with a nod and a simple smile. Time seems to stop as he scans your face. You look younger, you are definitely younger than him. Not young enough for him to feel weird about it, but there was a certain glint in your eyes that told him you haven’t experienced misery and desolation in your life. Unlike him who has yet to experience happiness.

He doesn’t want to indulge so much, but his thoughts are having a blast right now. Maybe it was his lack of social interactions and meaningful relationships but he wants to know more about you. 

“It’s quite unusual to see a man here. I would have thought someone like you would go to a barber.” He comes back to reality as he notices you are talking to him. Your eyes remain fixed on his as your smile continues to be displayed on your face. 

Someone like… him? Yeah, that statement isn’t new to him. Especially since his demeanor is still so rugged. But hey! He’s making a change even though you don’t know.

“Barbers don’t know how to cut my hair.” He realizes his voice came out rigid and plain. He didn’t intend to, but he is used to his military speech and tone. “They… just don’t get it right…” His last sentence is definitely more hushed but not any less monotone. 

“Fair enough. At least Adelaide here knows exactly how to keep your hair safe from a buzz cut.” Leon lets out an amused breath as you joke about his hair. It feels like a gentle breeze, indulging in light-hearted teasing with a stranger. And not any stranger, but you.

He has felt attraction, he’s a man after all. His line of job wasn’t the most ideal to find a partner but he can’t deny how some agents were pretty to look at. However, he couldn’t form a romantic relationship there. Between death and violence, the battleground wasn’t the place to have a partner, form a family, and live happily ever after.

“Yeah…” He sheepishly responds, he doesn’t know what else to add. You had taken the reins of the conversation as soon as you teased him. Now, he hopes something comes into his mind to keep the conversation flowing.

“I haven’t seen any other gentleman wearing this hairstyle,” Adelaide says as she resumes her work. She moves the scissors gracefully. She is — with no doubt — an expert in this area. Though the simpleness of her salon tells him otherwise. “If I may say, I think it really suits you.”

“You should have seen me in the 90s.” Those words leave his lips before he even registers them in his mind. It was an innocuous joke, nonetheless, it carried a hint of self-deprecation. He doesn’t look like his old self, he knows that. Especially after seeing himself in the mirror that night. But nobody there has to know, for them, it was a simple light-hearted joke.

The whole salon erupts in laughter, he doesn’t think his words are that funny. But hey, he will take the compliment. 

However, his eyes catch a glimpse of you not laughing. At work, most people wouldn’t laugh at his own words because they weren’t needed. He knew that. But then again, none of you were in a life-or-death situation. Leon doesn’t want to overthink, but… did he come out as a pretentious dude? Or an arrogant dickhead? 

Or maybe you have caught the real meaning behind those words.

You let out a breathy laugh, not too long to be considered a giggle but not short enough to be a chuckle. You don’t add anything else, your eyes just linger on his face for a few more seconds before turning on your heel.

For a moment, he’s taken aback. He feels like he’s going crazy but for a split second, he sees himself in you. Not because you shared the same past or path and there was no way you had the same traumas. But the way you had observed him, made him feel analyzed, as if you were studying the way he talked and expressed himself.

Maybe he’s indeed going crazy.

Leon watches you taking a seat on an empty chair, next to another customer who gives you a polite smile. From there, he hears you telling Adelaide that your shift at the hospital has just ended and you just wanted to check up on her. 

For a while, he relaxes until Adelaide tells him that they are done. She persuades him to bleach his hair after he accidentally told her that he had blond hair in the past. But he escapes her attempts by telling her that he wants to pay.

He walks towards the register and pulls out a 20-dollar bill. It was quite cheap, especially when he had cut so much hair. At least he looks more presentable now.

You appear out of nowhere as he was paying. Your frame leans over the counter and for a second, you let the awkward silence linger in the air. 

Eventually, you speak.

“You don't belong here.” You say without an ounce of malice. You're expressing a fact. Leon has never been around the salon and doesn't look the part.

He frowns slightly, he was keeping up his laid-back appearance just fine until you blurted out your thoughts.

“It's my first time here.” He states before turning around and facing you. 

“That I know.” You nod.

“Then… was your comment really necessary?” Leon's words could come off as rude even though it wasn't his intention. But, it seems they don't even phase you.

“Not really.” You shrugged. Your voice was nonchalant. “But as you could already guess, I'm a nurse. And I have seen people like you come and go out of the hospital.”

He is trying to understand what your point is. Under any other circumstances, he would have told the other person off for even daring to speak about him and his lifestyle. He wasn't violent, not at all. But sometimes his limit was put to the test.

“What I'm trying to say is that…” He sees your attempt at explaining yourself. “I think It's safe to assume you're an agent or something of that sort, right?”

Leon doesn't react nor wants to. People knowing he was an agent wasn't a problem since it wasn't a secret. 

After a few seconds, he lets out a sigh he didn't know he was holding and nods. Being honest could be the start of a friendship, at least that's what Leon thinks.

“Was it my frame and physique that gave it away?” If he was an artist he could easily say he was getting better at the art of improving. Just a few weeks ago, he would have never left a comment like that lingering in the air. 

“Nope.” You cross your arms at the level of your chest. 

And there you go breaking his fantasies. He thought his phrase was so flirty.

“There's a scar on your cheek, it looks pretty deep.” You gesture to Leon where the scar is on your own cheek. He instinctively brings his finger to where it is in his. 

That's one of the few scars he remembers exactly how he got it. 2004, Spain. He experienced what betrayal was beforehand. Who he used to hold in high regard was the one who didn't hesitate to hold a knife and leave a nasty reminder of his deception. 

“I got it in a fight.” He sticks with a simple phrase, not diving deeper. Nonetheless, he realized you’re a perspicacious individual, lying won’t get him anywhere.

“Fight… right.” 

Both of you smile knowingly, the smirk giving away a sense of teasing between the two of you, for the first time. Even though you know nothing about how far and wild his job actually was, you had an idea that this said fight wasn’t just a normal and common one.

“So…” Leon sees how you shift your weight from one foot to another. There hasn’t been a shy bone in yourself ever since you entered the salon but now words don’t come out of your mouth as easily as before. “If you ever need a nurse, you can call me.”

As you rummage in your bag, you speak once again. “I may not be the most experienced but believe me when I said I had experience with some military and agents.”

You hand Leon a business card, your full name was there as well as your phone number and the hospital you work in. Your name falls swiftly out of Leon’s lips as he reads the content on the cardstock.

“And senior citizens.” He flashes you a dazzling smile, he doesn’t seem to realize that it’s been a while since he last smiled so freely and so.. natural. It feels like the sun hitting on his skin after a cold day. A warmth he had long forgotten he could feel.

He knew it was soon. Too soon to even imagine being your friend. But as he puts the card in his pocket, he wishes that this could be the beginning of something more.

IV. RELAPSE & RESTART.

He almost falls once he opens up at the door that leads him to his apartment. Another gruesome mission to add to his mental diary and more scars that will adorn his already hurting body. 

The same never-ending story, the same story being told once again. He doesn’t know when it will end. 

If it even ends.

The last months have been all about his ‘recovery’. He was a patient man, he was sure of that. However, he doesn’t understand how doing mundane things would help him. He was taking baby steps and walking on eggshells, trying not to fall back into his old addictions.

Which were slowly creeping into his mind.

A call from Hunnigan was the last thing he expected a few days ago. He was surprised not to get any task earlier but that didn’t mean he wanted to go back to fight off bioweapons and kill walking undead who were once rational people, with dreams and wishes just like him. 

But as much as he wanted to hang up and leave that world behind — knowing that the government wouldn’t give two shits about him and would walk through the same door he previously did and blow his brain — he accepted the mission.

In his own story, he’s a tragic character who can’t break the cursed loop he’s trapped in. The soft sounds of the rain no longer brought comfort to his aching heart, since those constant pitty-patter reminded him of the blood dripping from the people who were killed, by no one else but him.

He often thought he was going crazy, especially now as he walked towards the kitchen and stumbled on his own feet. Seeking something to grab on while he fights off the exhaustion. This last mission had taken a toll on him, both mentally and physically.

His fingers reach for the edge of the counter as he finally stays on his feet without the fear of falling onto the floor. His tired eyes close for a moment as he takes in his surroundings, his lonely apartment and his lonely life and his lonely self and his —.

He shakes his head, he wasn’t exactly in solitude. After that hurried meeting with you, he gained a new friend. He got to know you personally, something that he had missed for the longest time. To actually know someone deeper and not only their last names and occupations.

In exchange, he gave himself the chance to be more vulnerable. He couldn’t deny the attraction that he felt. But he was too afraid to fuck up the chance to have something meaningful with you. He told you about his years at the police academy, and he briefly shared his experience in Raccoon City, trying to be as vague as possible. In other words, he bared his soul to you.

But that didn’t mean everything was filled with butterflies and rainbows.

One night when you were treating one of his injuries (which he never treated in the past) he accidentally told you about his addictions and dark thoughts. Those which showed a persistent state of numbness and trauma. It was never his intention to worry you about those minor things, which he truly believed were not important.

But, as he recalls that night, he realizes that sadly, he can’t just end it all with a bullet through his brain. He has always thought about it, it’s not like the thought hasn’t crossed his messed up mind on those lonely nights when he wished someone would grant him a blink of sleep without having to dream about death and despair. 

His eyes open as he once again walks through the kitchen, the moonlight provides a faint source of light that casts on his dark space of living. He remembers that you once told him he should get some lights, and he indeed bought them but he can’t just seem to find enough time to put them on.

His mind wanders through the moments he has spent with you. You always said the most soothing of things, when you wanted to. You advised him, told him how worthy he can be and how special he must be to others even though they don’t know it yet.

Another step.

He didn’t quite catch the meaning of those words. For him, he only brings despair wherever he goes. A demon of destruction and annihilation. If hell had a list of its next guests he believes his name would be on the top of that list. God wouldn’t want him in his paradise.

One more step.

Nonetheless, you weren’t a teddy bear who only chanted words of praise and fairy-tale stories. You called out his bullshit, especially when he dared to joke about going back to his old habits.

Stop.

“Would you like a glass of whiskey?” He would sarcastically ask you whenever you visited him at his apartment, knowing the kind of reaction he would get out of you. You had none of that, though. As soon as he uttered those words, the grip your hand had on his arm would get tighter to the point that Leon would beg you to stop it. 

He knew you genuinely cared for him and he convinces himself that you’re wasting your time with someone like him. Someone already broken from the start. You were younger, with a life ahead of yourself, and a career to follow. And like the devil incarnate that he is, he is stopping you from that.

The story repeats itself, everything he touches turns into dust. He’s no longer a human but the shell of a man who once had dreams of becoming a cop. To become someone who would help innocent people. But instead, he’s killing those same poor souls in the name of the fucking government.

His fingers graze over the cabinet.

He despises his life, he hates everyone who forced him to follow this path. The resentment flows in his system as his hand grips the cabinet door even tighter; if he wasn’t so tired from his mission, he would have broken the tacky wooden furniture.

Why does it have to be this way?

Why does he have to continue witnessing the horrors of his life every day? 

Why do the ghosts of people haunt him every day as he tries to close his eyes and relax? 

Why has he become so desensitized to the bloodshed and yet as soon as he comes back to reality, it knocks the air out of his lungs?

And why is he already unscrewing the lid of his whiskey?

Time slows down for a moment as he gambles his choices. It's been months since he last took a sip from his so beloved whiskey. But at the same time, just one tiny drop would crumble all of his progress.

But why is progress so important if the product is going to be the same? Even if he gets better, his life won't. The only difference is that he may smile more during missions and act like everything is fucking alright even if it isn't.

But he isn't so lucky to fall deeper into his hell that easily. As soon as the cap falls onto the floor, the front door knob twists, announcing that someone is entering.

And who else has a key to his apartment?

The last person he wants to see right now.

The door creaks, antagonizing the imminent moment when you would see him at the scene of the crime with him being the culprit of his own homicide.

“Leon?” He hears you say as you step in, the darkness of the room allowing him a couple of seconds to hide the murder weapon – the bottle – and act clueless. But it seems that not even his nervous system is on his side. He just stands still.

“Sorry for being late. I had one hell of a shift back at–...” He sees your frame as you approach the kitchen. Your face falls momentarily, taking in the sight you were watching. Disheveled hair, bruises all around his face, and dark eyebags that gave the impression he hadn't slept for weeks.

Your eyes fall on the bottle in his hand. There was no cap which leads you to believe that he was drinking. Leon wanted to scream and tell you that you got it all wrong, but no words left his lips.

“Are you drinking?” Anger-filled, you take long strides before reaching for the bottle. Your eyes scan the content, seeing that it is half empty. Your accusatory gaze falls on Leon's.

“It's not what it looks like.” Worst phrase ever. He knows that he's telling you the truth, yet he couldn’t come up with anything worse than that. 

He looks like a kicked puppy, his eyes wide open as you keep staring at him with those eyes filled with… disappointment which it's worse than being screamed at. He wasn’t built for that. He was used to resentment looks, to punches and kicks. But disappointment came every time he had to tell families that their father wouldn’t make it that night because he died on a mission. It came each time he had to inform a mother that their beloved son succumbed to a virus. 

The once rookie cop still lives within him. The one who hates disappointing people, the one who wants to save everyone. But especially the one who can’t do it alone.

“Then help me understand.” You place the bottle on the kitchen counter. Your stare doesn’t falter yet a hint of concern washes over your face. “Because all I see is you drinking after literally promising me that you’d never do it again.”

As a matter of fact,  you didn’t actually see him drinking. He wanted to say that, but he knew it would bring even more anger to your already burning expression. However, as soon as that thought left his mind, another one came.

The sole fact that he didn’t drink, doesn’t spare him from any culpability. If it wasn’t for your intrusion, he’d be lying on the couch, wasted and intoxicated waiting to pass out. 

You take a deep breath, trying to keep your emotions in check. Leon isn’t dumb, he’s exhausted but he’s aware of how much you’re holding back. You would never scream at him, that’s obvious. But you didn’t want to bring even more self-hatred to him.

He had his own mental battles, ones you will never understand no matter how much he describes them to you. His anxiety was always bothering him, like an annoying bug buzzing in his ear. You knew how overwhelming everything was.

And you knew how recovery wasn’t an easy step to take, but it definitely takes so much maturity and perseverance, something that Leon surrounds himself in – even though he doesn’t see it. He’s a fighter, he’s a hero, he’s a lover. He keeps fighting and fighting even when he doesn’t see an end. But he mastered the art of moving forward.

So, he’s allowed to fall from time to time.

“Did you drink?”

“No, I didn’t.”

“Were you planning on doing it?”

He’s silent for a moment, he’s afraid that his answer will mean more disappointment from you. That you will get to see how pathetic he really was. 

“Yes.” He eventually confesses.

You absentmindedly nod, letting out a long sigh.

“Another mission?”

“...yes.”

You didn’t ask for the details, knowing – to an extent – about Leon’s job, you knew it must have been so impactful in order to almost throw him back to his old friend, alcohol. And you knew Leon was like a sponge, he absorbs everything he experiences and never tells anyone. You thank God that he accidentally told you about his addiction, now you can at least protect him.

“It was…” Leon continues speaking, his fingers scratching a spot on the kitchen counter. His eyes don’t meet yours, as if he’s trying his best to make the words come out of himself. “It was really bad this time.”

He lets out a dry chuckle that sounds more like an attempt to water down the situation. One thing about him is that he doesn’t cry. He wouldn’t let someone see that side of him. He’s rigid, he’s stoic, he’s unemotional. He’s a DSO agent, born to serve his country and die for it. 

But right now he wants to be a child again. 

He wants to be that same infant who would fall on purpose just to get kisses from his mother. He wants to be that same innocent child who could come back running to his mom’s arms when the world was too scary. 

He wants to stop the world for a second and cry at the top of his lungs, he wants to punch a wall until his knuckles bleed, he wants to be held, he wants to be told everything will be okay even if it will never be okay.

His thoughts drift to when he was younger – to when he could imagine himself being a better person. If he could speak with himself, what would he say? The image of a tiny him crosses his mind, a young Leon playing all by himself with tiny police cars.

Within him, there’s a rookie cop begging for help amidst the gruesome scenario he had to face back in 1998. Beneath all the layers of self-hatred and resentment, hidden in that dead gaze.

He shakes his head, in a poor effort of swallowing the lump that was forming in his throat. An imminent sign that his emotions will fall like a waterfall, reminding him of his own weaknesses. His curtain of hair falls onto his eyes, blurring his vision. 

Or was it his tears? He no longer knows.

He deserves an award for how hard he’s trying to stop the inevitable. His fingers shake, his breath gets heavier and his heart aches. But he couldn’t bear it for much longer, especially knowing that at least, he had someone to go to when his mind was too much for him.

So, he allows himself to feel human again.

“It was horrible…” He finally breaks down. He silently lets the tears fall from his eyes as he sobs. The thought of every mission is on his mind as the constant spams of his sobs control his body. 

He feels like the air has been knocked out of his lungs, the uncontrollable way that he chokes on his sobs makes his throat constricted. 

He lowers his head, he doesn’t want you to see how weak he has become. A tough agent simply doesn’t cry. An agent bites, chews, swallows, and shuts up. 

Silence sets in the kitchen, occasionally broken by Leon’s tears and choked breaths. His fingers itched to grab something, to hold onto something. To feel that he wasn’t alone, that he was indeed not all by himself in this messed up world.

You slowly reach for him. Baby steps, for someone who was touched starved, even if he was unaware of that fact. For someone that’d jump whenever he feels touched, because his mind can’t let go of the fear of being bitten, of being killed. 

You quietly made your way to Leon’s hand, your fingers ever so grazing it. Feather touches brushes against the back of his hand, making sure to notice if he shows any signs of discomfort. There were none.

However, you surely notice that his sobs have stopped for the time being. He’s still sniffing though. As if on cue, his glassy eyes lock on yours, before you fully intertwine your fingers with his.

You didn’t hug him immediately, you didn’t throw your arms around his neck at the very right moment when he started crying, and you especially didn’t give him a shoulder pat as if saying “Don’t cry.” He appreciates the fact that you took it slow, you gave him a warning and proceeded further when he allowed you to.

Loving takes time, and loving Leon would surely take longer than anything you have experienced.  You have treated many patients, you know that the injuries in a body heal fairly quickly. Now, the wounds in a soul that was doomed from the start are not something that easy to mend. 

After a while of your fingers being intertwined and sweat covering the palm of your hands, you feel the faintest squeeze, coming from Leon’s side. You look at him and see a tiny smile formed on his lips with some dry tears adorning his face.

You say nothing, scared to break the atmosphere of tranquility that had formed after Leon stopped crying. It took some seconds for Leon to muster up the courage to go further, intimacy and platonic touches were already something he was unfamiliar with. Now, he had to add romantic feelings to that list.

If he had met you when he was younger, he’d have surely asked you out. Take you on a nice little date and steal a kiss or two. But now, he was trapped in the course of the years, older and supposedly wiser. However, you were the one who was being strong – for him. Not the other way around.

But, as much as he wants to pity himself and wonder about those what-ifs, he has a friend now. He would take care of that heart of his in the future. For now, he wants to embrace the one friendship he hasn’t tainted yet.

The one person who still hasn’t seen the horrors that this world has to offer.

He untangles his fingers from yours and looking at your eyes one last time, he brings your hand to his cheek. The palm of your hand bringing some warmth to his skin.

With his eyes closed now, you see an expression you haven’t seen before. A peaceful one, as if he was sleeping without his usual nightmares. It was comforting, in a sense, knowing that you have brought a moment of serenity to his tumultuous life.

You were surprised at first, not expecting Leon to show that display of affection. However, part of you understands that he was seeking comfort. It’s been a while since he last felt safe with someone, someone who he could cry with, someone who wouldn’t judge him.

Your thumb grazes over his stubbled cheek, wiping away any proof that he has been crying. 

“Thank you…” His voice is barely a whisper, you almost didn’t hear him singing his gratitude.

You want to say “You’re welcome” or “It’s okay” but none of those phrases convey what you really wish to show. Saying the first one would dismiss all of your previous actions as a simple attempt to comfort him. And the latter was a lie, it’s not okay, even if you wanted to believe it yourself.

“I got you.” You stick with that one. It wasn’t a lie but a promise you plan on fulfilling. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“You promise?” He asks, opening his eyes. His tone is a hopeful one.

“I do.” You reassure him.

With your free hand – the one that wasn’t on Leon’s cheek –  you reach for the bottle of whiskey that was long forgotten after their little situation.

“But before that, we need to get rid of this.” You show it to Leon before he chuckles. “We’re now only drinking apple juice.”

He didn’t miss the use of we instead of you. Maybe he’s reading between the lines, but he hopes that you’re by his side now that he wants to leave his addiction for sure. He wants you to see how much he can achieve if he sets his mind on it.

“Apple juice it is.”

V. ABSOLUTION.

The nakedness of his body didn't override the vulnerability he showed once he let you in his life, mind, and soul. But as you help him wash his back, he can’t help but reminisce about that first night when he first saw himself in the mirror.

He remembers being insecure about showing his scars to someone, scared that the other person would be disgusted by the sight of it. 

However, you weren’t repulsed, far from that. In your mind, Leon’s skin served as a canvas and each bruise and scar were strokes of a paintbrush. In this case, they showed Leon’s hard life and non-achievable freedom. They showed how much Leon had endured and how many fights he had won.

Therefore, they were proof that Leon was a lover of life. He loved everyone else’s lives that he would sacrifice his in order to protect the world.

Leon sometimes drops hints about his job. He didn’t directly tell you about the government and its fucked up methods, but you collected the clues and formed your own puzzle.

He was forced to join.

It was strange, in a way. To know that a gentle soul like him had to face the hostility of a country, of a government that could easily threaten someone into joining the force. However, you weren’t clueless about its power.

Eventually, after those hints, other hints came along the way. 

Leon was sweet, funny, and a gentleman. Your dynamic as a nurse and patient was long forgotten even though you still tend to some of his wounds. And your friendship shifted into something more, especially after the whiskey situation months ago. 

However, even though his qualities overshadow his flaws, there’s something he can’t hide.

He’s too awkward for his own good.

Ever since the alcohol incident, Leon would always try to be smooth and compliment you over the simplest things. “Have you done something different to your hair? No, you didn’t? Oh… Well, it looks good” He would often facepalm himself because he couldn’t flirt even if his life depended on it.

Eventually, after those not-so-discrete hints, he took matters into his own hands. He often faked minor injuries. “You don’t understand, my eye literally hurts” and he would have access to admire every tiny detail your face had to offer. From your moles to the way your eyebrows furrowed trying to concentrate.

And that led to feathery touches. In the name of friendship, of course.

After one dinner – that Leon so gratefully prepared – you would often find yourself sitting on the couch, shoulders pressed to one another as you played with his rough hands. You would ask him where he got that scar, how he got this one right here, wow it looks really deep. 

And he let you because he did the same. Because those angel-like touches soon turned into endlessly staring sessions where silence was more inviting than any word could be. You gazed into each other’s eyes for only God knows how long. Expecting that the other one would break the intimate moment but none of them had the heart to do so.

It would be an understatement to say that Leon felt so safe with you. Over the months, Leon had gotten to know what a home felt like. His apartment remained the same, physically and aesthetically speaking. But the way it immediately lightens up when you arrive – yeah, Leon could finally call it home.

That’s why, it was so easy for Leon to let those words slip out of his mouth one night when you were leaving.

“You feel like home.” 

And for a moment, you let those words sink into you. You thought you were merely an acquaintance, a simple friend at most. But no – there he was, Leon Kennedy, US government agent, telling you that you’re his home.

Meanwhile, the silence at that moment made Leon go insane. He thought he fucked it up, you would surely run away now. Who the fuck says that someone is their home? Shit shit shit—

“You’re my home too.” 

And that was everything he needed to hear to stop all of his dark thoughts from appearing once again. The darkness that embraced both of them set the perfect scenario to indulge in this crucial moment. A late confession, but a real one.  

As he gazes into your eyes, he can’t help but wonder if this tiny fragment of happiness would go away like everything else had in his life. You’re too precious, too important to die, to vanish from his life and never come back.

And your hand reached for his cheek, your thumb caressing the same scar you noticed when you first met him, he couldn’t help but ask God to grant him one more chance in life. He promises — in a fragment of seconds — to be a better human, to be a better citizen but please, don’t take away this last string of hope he’s holding to.

And he felt that God had finally responded to his prayers when he saw how you leaned closer, letting your lips find his in a gentle but so meaningful and awaited kiss. He hesitantly parted his lips, scared that this may be a dream. But of course, he doesn’t dream so that had to be the reality. The sorrow, the anxiety, the longing, and the expectations — all of those were long forgotten as he mentally thanked destiny for this.

“Earth to Leon” You giggle behind him as you rub a sponge all over his back. You were careful not to be so rough on his already aching back. “A penny for your thoughts?”

Of course, he found himself daydreaming. 

From that night, his relationship with you skyrocketed. And his home became your home too.

He doesn’t know when it happened, but he found himself getting even more comfortable with you. He didn’t even need to ask himself — letting you see him naked as both of you wash each other’s bodies? Yeah, it was definitely love. 

And he loves being in love.

“I just spaced out for a bit.” He responds with a yawn, the silence that surrounded both of you was inviting to just sleep throughout the night. Funnily enough, you only just sleep. Leon was grateful the first nights since he was getting used to the fact that someone else was sleeping on his bed.

But now he was growing a bit impatient.

Especially with your lingering touches.

As you let the water wash away all the soap, your lips soon find his back, pressing soft kisses on each scar that adorned his skin. “It’s okay…” a kiss on a tiny scar. “Are you going to take your sleeping pills tonight?” Another kiss on a scar that was near his shoulder.

Right… he was put on medication. He often takes sleeping pills when his eyes won’t shut down even if drowsiness is engulfing him. But lately, sleep has become easier, and his nightmares have decreased.

He’d like to think that after you started sleeping next to him, his mind started to feel at peace. But that was something unreal, nobody could fix someone. 

But he had to be honest, you surely helped him a lot.

“Not tonight.”

He feels you nodding as your chin lays on his shoulder blade. It’s in moments like these where he thinks that life doesn’t sound so bad. As he zones out and lets you do all the job, he realizes that maybe it’s okay to keep on living.

He’s a big teddy bear, to say the least. The DSO agent who once swore duty to his country was pushed aside when he was with you. Why would he need to keep up his facade when home meant security, therefore you are what makes him safe. So, as you help him out of the shower, drying him off with a towel he lets you take the reins, his body on autopilot mode.

His strong arms wrap around your frame, perfectly molding and fitting like puzzle pieces. It feels like the flow of water, gently swaying your bodies until they reach their destination, their little nest away from everything outside. 

He takes pride in serving, providing, and protecting. It was deeply imprinted in him, right in his bone marrow. The blood that runs through his veins pushes him to never stop, to continue working for others. 

However, as you help him sit down on the bed his mind shuts down for a moment. He allows himself to take this moment of peace and drown himself in it. Be a little selfish, if he can. The tranquility of a domestic setting was still so foreign to him yet he doesn’t understand how he could’ve lived without feeling this for so long.

The towel around his midsection hugs him just right to prevent the material from falling. His hair is still a little wet, and so is yours. You use the extra towel to help him dry off. 

He very much enjoys the lazy touches you share at nights like these. It was a nice reminder that the darkness of the imminent dusk will not bring more nightmares, but peaceful dreams. The ghost of his past was getting tired of haunting him, it seems.

You’re still pretty careful with him, as if you were handling fine ceramic which in a sense, he was. He was shattered porcelain, glued back together with utter care. You both were artists, who completed with great skill this piece of art called life.

And now, your lips are acting like a brush, as they touch Leon’s skin. Kisses are planted along his jaw and he lets out a sigh from the feeling of being treated with so much devotion. If he could serve as a blank canvas, he was ready to rewrite his story with you.

Or maybe not rewrite, his past made him a person as much as it hurts. His grief, his pain, and his previous solitude built up the man that he is now. So, he will add another page to his life story. He will paint another landscape where the sun rises and casts its lights on the world. 

He looks at you and sees nothing but raw love and a hint of desire hidden behind those orbs. He notices, then, that just like him you are indeed eager to please him in the other sense of the word. It was embarrassing to realize that he shouldn’t have kept quiet about his needs when you had already proved to him that it was okay to speak, to think, to feel.

It’s been a while since he last let himself be this physically vulnerable. Sure he wasn’t an inexpert in the area but it has never been this intimate. Hearts never bonded and names weren’t remembered. Never has someone truly cared about his welfare before. To put it a name, he’d have called it a trade. He let off some steam and the other part got what they wanted. No strings attached and surely no feelings hurt.

However, it would be a lie if he told himself he didn’t crave to actually make love to someone. To feel someone’s body brushed against his in a sweet and gentle motion. To let himself and his soul be kissed with so much love that it would make him cringe. 

You stop your waterfall of kisses for a while, letting the silence linger for a few seconds as you grab his hand. Slowly, you interlace your fingers with him, a well-known display of affection from you. Your signature, you may even say.

“Hey…” His eyes search yours, and he sees how you’re looking for approval, for his consent. He once heard eyes are the mirror of someone’s soul and the world suddenly feels so small as he remembers that he met those same eyes months ago, unaware of the effect you’d have on him.

“Hey.” You repeated, for the second time this night, his mind decided to wander again. “Is it okay if…” you trail off, not because of embarrassment or sudden shyness, not at all. But he can deduce that you wanted him to finish your sentence. 

I’ve been dying to touch you. I’ve been craving you touching me, he wanted to say. However, his sense of decency stops him from uttering that rather needy phrase. In a way, he can infer that you already know about his lustful desires. It was a matter of time before both of you indulged in those carnally and normal needs. 

Nonetheless, he is oblivious that you won’t let this night be like any other. No, you wouldn’t try anything too crazy — not yet — But after months of knowing him deeper and rawer, you know he’s tired. Exhausted from his life, exhausted from his job, and overall drained. He deserves to be treated right and you’ve been excelling in that task. 

But, you’ll show him that he can be as greedy as he wants to be.

“You can trust me.” You say in a hushed tone as if you were whispering a secret to him. Your hand slowly descends until it reaches where the towel meets his waist. 

“I do trust you.” He responds with a determined tone amidst the suggestive move of your hand. “I feel like I won the lottery with you.”

“Is that so?” You laugh, resuming your kisses around his stubbled cheek. Although this time, they carry some neediness in them.

“Positive.” He lets out a shaky breath as your finger ever so grazes over where the towel is tucked in. “Because you saw good in me when I had nothing to offer, you—”

“Stop.” Your voice remains soft even though your command doesn’t falter. ”None of those self-loathing words right now.”

He’s speechless for a moment before he slowly nods and lets your hand go lower. Leon feels his blood going south just from a few words.

But then again, loving you was really easy. So it was no surprise that he found himself already leaking at the anticipation of your imminent touch. 

“Let me make you feel better.” You whisper, allowing your hand to undo the towel that was previously wrapped around him. In a swift movement, it falls on the floor exposing his already hard length. 

You glance at Leon one last time and observe his reaction. There was no sight of changes of mind or hesitation, so you free his and your desire.

You connect your lips against his neck, and with gentle sucks, you prepare him for what’s about to come. Your wish —besides touching him— is bringing comfort in such an intimate act like this. He has trusted you with his soul and body before, that’s correct. But right now, you can feel the level of loyalty and therefore love he’s showing you. 

Your hand reaches for his dick, you thumb the slit of his tip collecting the precum that has already formed there, using it as a lubricant. 

Your fingers circle around his cock and, slowly, you start stroking him. You don’t want him to cum just yet, the feeling of being treated like this was something you want him to drown in. So, you keep up the steady pace. 

You disconnect your lips from his neck and focus your eyes on your ministration on his cock. The lewd sounds combined with the faint whimpers coming out from his lips were almost like background music that you are starting to love. 

He takes the opportunity of you pulling away from his neck to hide his face in the crook of yours. His breath tickles your skin as he continues letting out the most pretty sounds you’ve ever heard.

“Fuck…” He hisses as his word gets lost between the shlick sounds of your hand jerking him off. His nose brushes against the side of your neck as his cries fill your ears. You can hear him whispering your name from time to time, as well as some other curses of his own.

However, his tiny cries of pleasure soon turned into real sobs. 

No, he wasn’t sad but Christ, it was the first time actually took their time to focus on his pleasure and his well being. He always thought that love was never meant for him, that the simple act of falling in love would be impossible and unachievable. The thought of having his life attached to someone else used to send shivers down his spine.

Now, his world is no longer black and white, your mere existence brought color to his life.

Your hand stops for a minute, worried that you may have done something wrong. That leads Leon to pull away from your neck as some tears roll down his face. 

“Sorry… I — just continue please…” The desperation in his voice didn’t go unnoticed as he went back to nuzzle against your neck. And even if he was dazed out at this very moment, you will remember to talk about this again at another time.

“It’s okay, let it all go.” You reassure him as you resume your previous motions. It doesn’t take long before your hand sends him over the edge and close to his own climax. 

You pump him, your thumb grazing over the head of his dick from time to time. He absentmindedly thrust his hips up into your hand, seeking his near release. For him, you were granting him a visit to Heaven itself. Just the mere touch of your hand had him seeing angels and cherubims. How would it feel to be deep inside of you?

His lips are red from biting them, attempting to muffle his moans. His brain is a mess, with thoughts of you and only in there and his cock is throbbing as it chases his own high. Overall, Leon was putty in your hands. 

And by the way, his hips are starting to miss their rhythm, you know that it was a matter of seconds before Leon came undone in your hand.

“You’ve been so good for me…” You coo, still jerking him off with a slightly faster pace now. “You deserve to cum, don’t you?” You were always good with words but Jesus, he didn’t expect you would literally talk him through it.

As you whisper those praise words, he can’t stop his hips from rutting and bucking into your hand. “Yeah…�� fuck — I’ve been so good. Please, let me cum.”

The image of a tough agent begging for release will surely imprint in your mind for a while. 

“Of course.” Your lips tug into a smile as you pick up the pace. It was a sight to behold, seeing Leon coming undone in your hands with his eyes rolling to the back of his head, and a dazed out expression that brought butterflies to your tummy.

Eventually, your hands slow down as Leon writhes under your touch. He lets out a loud muffled whimper as white thick ropes of cum spill onto his stomach and of course, your hand. 

He stays still for a while, letting his body rest for a second. He plants lazy kisses on your neck as a way of saying “Thank you” since words couldn’t really translate what he was feeling right.

“Shit—” After a while, Leon curses as his half-lidded eyes meet yours. His expression is one of exhaustion but his lazy smile tells you he was brimming with happiness. He reaches for his towel that was previously thrown off and cleans your hand.

“Are you ok?” You ask as Leon wipes your hand, you can’t help but let out a giggle at the considerate action.

“Yeah but…” He trails off as he cleans his abdomen too. You can already predict what was going on in that head of his. “What about you?”

“I’m okay Leon.” You sigh as you bring your now clean hand to his cheek. “Your pleasure is mine. Besides, you’re exhausted.”

But as much as your statement was true, you can’t deny the desire that was dripping between your thighs. Between the intimacy of your act and having Leon so vulnerable in your hands, your system knows what it wants.

“I am.” He doesn’t deny the fact that your ministrations sucked the life out of him. But he can keep going. For the first time in his life, he is grateful for his stamina as an agent. “But that doesn’t mean we can’t do it.”

Before you could even protest, Leon was already kissing your neck. The scent of your body wash filling his nostrils as his lips get hungrier and needier for the taste of your skin. And as you attempt to once again speak, he muffles your words with his mouth on yours.

You feel your reasoning go weak as well as your limbs. It took a few kisses for you to comply and let yourself be laid on the bed, strong but gentle hands holding you close even when you fell on the soft mattress.

He’s above you for a second as he admires the view. Your towel, unlike his, was still wrapped around your body. You wriggle your way to where the pillows of the bed are and you wait for him there.

He wastes no time to join you, carefully lying next to you rather than above you. You catch a glimpse of what he’s trying to do. One of his calloused hands reaches your waist and softly motions you to roll over your side. 

You roll over and you’re met with your reflection on the mirror that was next to your bed. Funnily enough, it was perfectly placed so it showed both of your bodies. Somewhere deep in your mind, you wonder if Leon set up the mirror there for this right purpose. 

But then again, Leon was spontaneous, behind all of his layers of grumpiness and sadness that once used to surround him, you knew his sappy, corny, and cheesy side that was hidden. And now, you get to notice his quirks every single day.

He grips your hips as he lays sideways too, slightly spooning you. “You no longer need this…” He murmurs as he takes off your towel, the sight of your bare body in the mirror has his mouth watering. Acting like a damn dog wasn’t on the list of things he’s proud of.

As he discards the fabric that covered your body, you feel his once again hard cock. But this time, it was painfully close to your core that you could already feel every vein brushing against your walls.

“May I?” He knows your answer, he’s just asking for the sake of it. To hear your voice dripping with lust and neediness. To hear you hum that yes in your sweet tone as always.

“Please…” Your whisper was enough to make his cock twitch. What is with you and your voice that melts Leon whenever he hears you? You’re both his salvation and weakness. He can’t function without you.

He has always wanted to leave a mark in this world. That he had indeed existed for something else than death and destruction. That he was more than Leon Kennedy, the US’ best weapon. He wanted to show the world that he, Leon — just Leon — was more than his messed-up destiny. 

He loves, he desires, he laughs and he yearns for connection. And right now, his body’s aching to feel you around him.

He snuggles closer and wraps a tight arm around your waist, hugging your abdomen just right. Instinctively, you arch your back, letting your rear brush against Leon’s dick making hiss from the friction.

For a moment, he stops hugging you. You almost whined for the loss of closeness when you feel Leon guiding his dick which easily slides through your wet folds. The tip of it bumps against your clit sending electricity all over your body.

He’s savoring this moment. Sadly, he doesn’t think he’ll last much longer once he starts. But, at least, he knows that this won’t be the last time since he finally allowed himself to be selfish, to wish happiness for himself.

Happiness has a name and is both yours and Leon’s.

At last, he pushed into you, just the tip for now. Admiring your face in the mirror, he whispers sweet nothings against your ear. Rambles about how perfect you look and feel right, how lucky he is, and so on.

“Look at you…” Leon points at the mirror and you open your eyes which are glassy from all the pent-up desire you’ve been holding back. At any other moment given, you’d have been quite self-conscious about the exposure of your naked body. But Leon — as you once did with him — is eager to show you that you’re indeed a sight for sore eyes.

“Look how perfect you look being mine.” Even though his words could sound possessive to anyone else, you know his voice brings out affection and tenderness. There are a few things Leon could call them his. And most of them are mundane items that don’t exactly bring comfort to him. 

But to call you his was something that he has always looked for. To show you off, buy you everything you’ve always desired, and tell the world that he had finally found his home. His one and only.

As he finishes his statement with a kiss on your cheek, he eases himself into you. He pushes all of his length as he hushes you once you hiss from the stretch.

“Shhh there you go…” He once again wraps his arm around you, burying his face in the crook of your neck as he inhales the scent he has grown to love. The same that has been lulling him to sleep ever since you decided to move in with him. 

He stays still for a few seconds, the feeling of filling you up could make him cum right on the spot but he stops himself. He distracts from your pulsating walls by kissing your neck and sucking on the skin which will clearly turn a soft purple color the next morning.

The pain soon turned into comfort and therefore it resulted in pleasure. As he hears you saying a soft “You can move” he slowly pulls out before thrusting into you with the same pace and force. He feels your walls clamping down his cock as he continues his motions. 

He slides in and out with lazy thrusts, his and your eyes are closed as heavy breaths and drowsy moans leave your lips. You were correct, he was exhausted from his previous high. But the way you drowsily made love was making this whole thing even more perfect.

“Taking me so well.” He murmurs against your skin, his breath tickling your neck as he grips your waist even tighter than before, as if he is scared that once he opens his eyes you won’t be there. “Sucking me in, like you know I belong here.”

His hand goes to your chest, where he plays with one of your nipples. His fingers pinching the sensitive spot as his hips continue lazily bucking into yours already feeling like his mind was all over the place.

You feel a heat forming on your belly as Leon continues whispering words you can’t quite register now. Too drunk in desire and too cock drunk to even care. “Fuck I love you so much…”

“I love you too.” You can’t really say anything else, everything would be sentences with no coherent meaning or sense. So you stick with your favorite phrase, you could sing every day that you love Leon, and he would do the same. Because the word love was once so far away from him.

It was poetic to see that Leon could feel his second climax of the night near as he heard you say that you love him. The back and forth of his hips slightly increase their speed but it remains true to the lazy nature of the act right now, though.

“I’m close.” Leon stutters as he says those words. “Can I come inside you? Please tell me I can.” There is some desperation in his voice, an aching and burning desire to paint your insides. 

“Fuck, yes. Yes, you can.” You manage to say before Leon lets out countless thanks you. Your body starts writhing under his grasp as your fingers start digging into Leon’s arms, leaving an imprint of your nails on his skin.

“Cum on me. Go ahead, do it for me.” He coos, coaxing more sweet whimpers out of you. “Let me fill you up.” 

You let out a muffled whimper as you came undone. He could feel your cunt gripping him as you reach your desired orgasm. Eventually, Leon’s hips which were previously rocking into your and slapping against his skin are now slowing down.

The wet noises sound so filthy yet Leon is having a blast right now. He could imagine himself getting to experience this every night with you by his side. Who could have thought that selfishness could be so rewarding?

With a low grunt, he cums inside of you as he promised. Letting his load fill your insides. He couldn’t hide the satisfied smile that formed on his lips. What a view.

He remains inside of you for a bit longer than needed. You can’t judge him, especially with the way he nuzzles into your neck letting out a yawn. Poor him was worn out. After his first climax, he had already felt that he touched the sky, and now he was in heaven.

After pulling out, he rested his cheek on your shoulder. Part of him wanted to feel you again yet he couldn’t even move an inch. However, it fulfilled him to know that you were going to be right next to him tomorrow, and the day after tomorrow, and for as long as you allow it.

“Thank you.” He whispers.

“We have to change those thank you into I love you.”

Leon was the sweetest guy. However, those thanks still came from a place of skepticism. 

“Sorry…”

He sheepishly said before drifting off to sleep. And, as usual, no nightmare is waiting for him to haunt his dreams.

VI. SERENITY

Attempting to get out of bed on a lazy Saturday morning should be a crime. However, your drowsy state didn’t stop you from reaching the now empty space next to you. The bed still provided you with the scent of the person you loved the most yet he wasn’t there. 

With a groan, you decide to get up from the bed. Your feet meet the cold tiles before you curse from the sudden pain you feel as you step on the remote. You have told Leon countless times that he shouldn’t sleep when he’s watching TV, yet the only response you get is “I’m just resting my eyes.” Therefore, that causes Leon to fall asleep with the remote on his chest which obviously falls throughout the night. 

After a while of inhaling and exhaling deeply from the pain, you make your way out of the room. The scenario that greets you is the same as other days just that Leon was missing in the picture. 

Your steps are slow as sleep is still running in your system, a yawn escapes you while you walk towards the kitchen counter. A note is waiting for you and you deduce it’s from Leon.

“I just went to run some errands, I’ll come back as soon as possible. Love you so so much.” 

His name was written at the bottom of the page next to a happy face that he had drawn. Silly, you thought.

You see that Leon had already prepared you a sandwich before he left. It was cold to the touch, so that means Leon has been gone for a while. He may come any time now. 

Life with him was… surely an adventure. He still goes on missions, leaving you to your own devices for days or even weeks. But they no longer haunt his mind like before. He still needs to be treated with utter care after one, though. Bruises and scars are not the only effects his journeys have on him. 

When he returns from a mission, the once dull and boring apartment welcomes him yet this time, it is full of colors and memories you have made with him. However, it’s not enough for him to completely drop his facade of a tough agent ready to end someone’s life. As you treat his wound, every tiny sound has him jumping on his seat. 

You can’t blame him, it takes a while before he can return to his usual self and be embraced by your warm body that will waste no time to hug him tight. Reminding that he was finally home.

Eventually, after settling down and returning to reality, his personality will shine again. If someone asked you to describe Leon in one word it would be impossible. The man that you chose to spend life with was everything all at once. He was definitely clingy, to begin with. Excuses were his everyday words as he tried to explain why it was completely alright for him to follow you everywhere you went.

At this point, it felt like you had adopted a puppy instead of having a boyfriend. “What’ chu doing?” He would often say as he peeked around the edge of the door frame and watched you from afar If he had a tail it’d be wagging so fast. The tough agent no longer existed in your presence, instead, a man who melted as soon as you hugged him took his place.

Loving, in his language, meant going overboard just for you. If he had to get on his knees and beg for a tiny kiss he’d do it. He’s grown needy to those sweet gestures only you could provide. But he didn’t need to win them. Loving, in your language, meant offering your heart on a platter for him.

God does he love you. You have the man whispering funny names in your ears as you wake up. You unlocked a part of him that he had long forgotten he had, he used to joke when he was nervous — freaking out because he thought he might die on a mission. But now, he invented a plethora of new pet names just to bother you and see you rolling your eyes laughing.

He’s gone through so much, he’s seen so much. Tranquility was the last thing he thought he would be surrounded with. Ever since he was forced to join the military, he made up his mind on the fact that his life would never be the same, Racoon City was his starting point and only his death would stop him from suffering.

Now, as you finally hear the door unlocking you admire how his figure appears. You squint your eyes as you try to pinpoint what’s different in him.

“Hey, you.” Leon walks towards you, closing the gap between you two as he hugs you.

“Hey, you too.” You return the hug, wrapping your arms around his waist.

“Missed me?”

“Not much.” You punch his side, not strong enough to make him jump but rather tell him that you were joking. “Now… On what adventures did you go without me?” 

“I just paid a visit to Adelaide.”

Adelaide, you haven’t forgotten about the old lady that you treated. However, you didn’t expect Leon to remain loyal to his service. And now that he mentions it, you realize what he has done to himself.

His hair has turned lighter. Blonder.

“Did you bleach your hair?” You can’t help but laugh at the thought, he had poor Adelaide working so early on a Saturday morning. But then again, you remember that both of them are workaholics, even though their jobs couldn’t be any more different.

“No, you’re going blind.”

God, he was so dumb.

Eternity used to sound like a cruel fate before. Stuck in a loop that he couldn’t escape from. But now, he will always look for you even in the tiniest details. He’d look for you in the darkness as two flicks of light trying to reach each other. In the universe, as two particles of stardust waiting to create something even bigger — a world for themselves, and a world to live on. 

Because, after all, you reached for him when he had nothing more to offer than his rotten self. You loved him when he couldn’t even love himself.

[kitasgloves]

Closer

tracklist

— ♬ "I drink the honey inside your hive. You are the reason I stay alive"

— ♬ Sex Addict! Fyodor Dostoevsky x Reader, NSFW, female reader, graphic depictions of unsafe sex & sexual obsession, brief mentions of masturbation, stalking & somnophilia, psychological manipulation, lobotomy (yes, fr), manga spoilers for Fyodor's ability, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, 3.7k words, no beta

— ♬ NOTE: I DO NOT CONDONE, ROMANTISIZE, OR SEXUALIZE WHAT IS DEPICTED IN THIS STORY. EVERYTHING IS A WORK OF FICTION. READER'S DESCRETION IS ADVISED.

Faith can make an individual resilient. Faith provides hope to the hopeless. And faith can give purpose to those who seek. Faith in a powerful being's existence is common among humanity. Humans have the liberty to believe in any kind of higher being they create with their minds. Humans owe their existence to gods, goddesses, or unfathomable beings. They offer their devotion and faith towards them and serve them respectfully.

Fyodor Dostoevsky thinks that every country has their own god and that god represents the people's beliefs. God shows their distinction between good and evil, but sometimes the line of distinction gets blurred. Fyodor believed he had faith. He's convinced that he's abundant of it. He can identify the difference between good and evil at a young age. And he chose goodness to pursue and to engrave into his motives. However, as he grew older, he learned that goodness isn't often achievable.

Some individuals perform evil acts for the sake of goodness, and some people overlook their horrid actions and focus on their righteous intentions. In a world where cruelty thrives among humans, being benevolent becomes a challenge. Fyodor viewed people as sinful and foolish after giving in to their depraved acts. He was disgusted, and he equally pitied those who suffer for the wrongdoings of others. A sense of justice blooms in Fyodor's chest. He longs to be the one who would save his country, he desires to be the Saviour of the world.

He could be this era's Jesus Christ. However, he doesn't think that dying for the sins of others is ideal. Fyodor believes that he must eradicate those who are unworthy to be a part of humanity and exhume the remaining goodness of humanity. For years, Fyodor has dedicated his life to rid the earth of filthy sinners. To think that he has died and yet resurrected various times solidifies his belief to be this world's only Saviour.

Fyodor has witnessed so much bloodshed, degeneracy, and incomprehensible evil that he becomes deprived of what is good. He has been away from the hold of goodness and he's slowly becoming a stranger to it. All he cared about and clung to was his own beliefs, he's convinced that it would be enough to carry on with his duty.

To have encountered various faces in his prolonged lifetime, your face becomes the most prevalent of all. Fyodor initially thought that it was your beauty, he is drawn to beauty when exposed to it. Your glistening eyes full of light, your tender skin, the harmonious tone of your voice, and the smell of your natural scent invited him to get closer.

You were a decent civilian. An individual with various thoughts, emotions, and feelings. And a woman with an inviting appearance. Fyodor laid his eyes on you for the first time at a humble café he had recently discovered. He remembered to be the beginning of Spring. He can recall that day in extreme detail. He silently sipped his tea when you walked into the café with that gorgeous sundress and a pocketbook in hand. His throat felt momentarily dry when he observed you. He took note of the drink and pastry you ordered. He finds himself smiling when you choose a table that is near his. And he watched you as you read your pocketbook in comfortable silence.

The attraction to you at first glance almost compelled him to approach you, yet Fyodor held himself back. He decides to quietly observe you and get a sense of what kind of person you are. He effortlessly gathered all the information he required. All it took was to follow you home and a quick snoop inside while you slept. He absorbed every detail about you, from your favorite music to your deepest insecurities. Fyodor knew it all without even approaching you, he reserved that official encounter with you for the precise timing.

Watching you from afar seems so lovely. He adored the tenderness that your existence exhibited. Fyodor noticed everything about you despite the distance. The shade of your lipstick, the slightly chipped nail polish on your nails, the shining necklace around your stunning neck, and even the skin that your dress is slightly exposed. Fyodor can feel his flesh craving for yours, he is taken aback by the passionate yearning at the beginning, but he thinks that it must be natural.

An infatuation is natural, Fyodor has experienced it several times before. However, with you, it seems unusual. His infatuation with you brought this burning sensation buried within his skin. His eyes tended to betray him as he glanced lower at your breasts. He would swallow at the sight of your bare legs exposed during a hot day. And before he realizes it, he has formed some sort of...erotic craving for you.

Fyodor was disgusted by the call of the flesh. The sin of lust came across as the filthiest to him. And yet, he finds himself victim to it. As repulsed as he was, Fyodor made attempts to rid of this sexual temptation by pleasuring himself. However, no matter how many times he has stroked his length or reached the most earth-shattering orgasms, the desire never goes away. What was worse was that Fyodor kept fantasizing about you the more he masturbated.

The mind conjures the filthiest things when given the chance. Fyodor would stroke his cock to the fantasy of your hands replacing his, your soft hands pumping his length while gazing innocently up at him. You would be settled between his legs with your hand wrapped around his shaft. Fyodor throws his head back as he imagined your lips kissing the tip of his dick before slowly swallowing his length. His hand pumped faster as he imagined the tip of his cock hitting the back of your throat as you gazed up at him through teary eyes. Fyodor chants your name at his approaching orgasm. He reaches his sweet release with the fantasy of you swallowing all of his seed.

When he would open his eyes and realize the mess he has made, Fyodor would turn so upset with himself. He was losing track of his mission, his purpose. It's people who fall for the call of the flesh who fail the most. You have infested his mind with these lustful fantasies and crawled your way into his heart. Fyodor tries to ignore the pleading of his desires to consume him, but the longer he suppresses his urges, the more it grows worse.

You accidentally bumped into a tall and slender man with raven hair inside your favorite bookstore. The books in your arms almost fly out of your hold if the man didn't steady you with his cold hands on your exposed shoulders. You looked up and shuddered. The man was gazing intently at you before giving you a polite smile.

"I apologize, I was not properly looking at my path"

"Oh, it's fine!"

"Hm, if I may, you have a remarkable taste in literature"

The man spoke with a prominent Slavic accent as he pointed at the books you huddled against your chest. You blinked and smiled.

"Thank you! They're by my favorite authors"

"It is rare to encounter someone with refine taste, may I know your name?"

"I'm [Surname] [Name]"

"You may call me Fyodor"

Your face bloomed with color when Fyodor delicately reached for your hand and brought them to his lips, giving it a tender kiss. Fyodor strikes you as a man with elegance. His movements seemed calculated. And his gaze offered a mystery that enticed your curiosity. Fyodor invited you to a café to discuss and share common interests in books. You were impressed with how many authors he knows. Judging from his choice of words, Fyodor seemed intelligent. His face looked incredibly majestic too. It was difficult not to be attracted to a man like him.

Fyodor reveled at the way you easily fell for his charms. The way you would gaze up at him through your thick lashes and clench your thighs whenever he talked almost made him laugh. He can feel his pants tighten as you slowly lean closer to him, his eyes capturing the delectable sight of your cleavage. Fyodor wanted to undress you so bad and all he is waiting for is the perfect moment.

"Fyodor, do you enjoy tea?"

"I do, my dear"

"Well, I have an array of it at home from different countries, would you like to try them with me?"

"That would be delightful"

The moment you invited Fyodor to your home, your fate changed forever. You could barely put the kettle on the stove when the man approached you from behind and wrapped his arms around your figure. Before a question could leave your lips, he has already leaned down to kiss you. The kiss was fueled with urgency. Fyodor's hands felt the fabric of your dress as he pressed you against the kitchen counter. Fyodor lapped on your lips and nibbled on your neck with hunger. You were left breathless with the way his hands roamed shamelessly all over your body. He grabbed your ass and squeezed your breasts. When he pulls away to give a proper look at your debauched face, he smirks darkly.

"Shall we continue in your bedroom?"

Fyodor doesn't dare waste his time as he poured all of his efforts into fucking you thoroughly. He placed you in several positions as he greedily stole orgasm after orgasm from you. He devoured you like you were his first and final meal. He pressed your head down against the pillows as he fucked you from behind. His cock would stretch you viciously during missionary. When he grew tired, he would grab your hair and force your mouth on his cock while his hand trailed down to play with your clit. Fyodor has fucked that innocent look out of your face.

You let him violate you. You let him desecrate you. You let him penetrate you. You let him complicate you. Fyodor wasn't finished until you're utterly destroyed. And he left you like that. The moment your eyes fluttered shut as he got done cumming in your cunt, he collected his clothes and abandoned you without offering an ounce of aftercare. Fyodor felt pleased and convinced that his lustful fantasies of you would finally disappear now that he had satisfied the call of his flesh. However, the moment he was finally alone, he felt a heavy weight on his spirit.

Fyodor thinks about what he has done and realizes he's not satisfied. His thoughts lingered back to when his cock was nestled inside of you as he drew out every breathless moan of his name from your lips. To his horror, he learns that his desire will never disappear if you continue to exist and tantalize him. Fyodor almost felt sick at the revelation. He felt like he had broken apart his insides and he had no soul to tell. This momentary self-loathe swallows him as he buries his face against his palms. Fyodor, in a state of emotional distress, pulled on his hair and aggressively bit on his nails until it bled. He couldn't bear to succumb to his carnal urges when he must carry on his righteous deeds. 

He must find a solution. And yet the only thing that works for him is for something to help him get away from himself. Yes, that's it. He wasn't being himself and he would never be himself if he was in this body. Fyodor finds himself wandering among the dangerous and dark streets to find someone who will be a sacrifice. One fateful thug tries his luck to rob him only to be met with Fyodor smiling. With one pull of the trigger, Fyodor's body drops to the pavement. Suddenly, the thug screams in agony as he feels the pain of his skin tearing apart. The screams echoed in the street before it abruptly stopped.

Fyodor returns to his hideout with a refreshed feeling inside of his new body. He tries to fall back into his routine when he has another fateful encounter with you at the café. He clenches his fists and steers his eyes away. However, he doesn't miss the way your face dropped. You ignored him and sat at a table further away from him and read your book. Fyodor was unable to resist as he let his eyes slowly wander back to your figure.

Fuck, you looked good. Your dress was cut shorter, and your soft legs were exposed. Fyodor licks his lips at the sight. You were all dolled up in your usual look as you focused on your book and sipped on your drink. Dismissing the heed of his desires seems futile as Fyodor feels his pants go tight again.

He wants to fuck you like an animal. He wants to feel you from the inside. He wants to fuck you like an animal. Fyodor could no longer deny himself. He wants to shove his cock into your pussy and ram into you until you bled. He wants to feel your warm and wet walls welcome him as if he was made to belong inside of you. He could no longer refuse the fact of how flawed he is. His whole existence is flawed. And yet he's convinced that you get him closer to God.

With every sinful tug on his soul by your body, Fyodor finds himself clinging to his faith. The faith that he will be forgiven and cleansed. God forgives all, doesn't he? If one does wish to repent and seek forgiveness from the almighty, then he shall find it. Fyodor quickly clasped his hands together and spoke a prayer in his mother tongue.

You peered up from your book and found Fyodor approaching your table and sitting across from you with a smile. Everything ends up with you and him in your bedroom as previously. You let him fuck you senselessly until you felt like your insides could tear apart. Fyodor is ravished at the moment of burying his seed deep inside you every time. He's constantly folding and molding you into various positions that could bring you to heaven and back. He'll have you with your back arched as he greedily fucked you. He'll make you lie upside-down at the foot of the bed as he fed you his cock. And he'll leave your thighs shuddering so much from fingerfucking you.

This all quickly fell into a routine. Fyodor would approach you for sex and then leave wordlessly after. He'll kneel and pray for forgiveness before doing it all again. For some reason, he was unable to stop himself. He thought of doing the same things to somebody else, but it would only spark contempt. It was only you he saw was worthy of sharing his filth. No matter how many times he has changed from body to body, he will always long for your body the same.

Fyodor had a feeling that you understood his urges. If you didn't, then why do you keep inviting him each time to ruin you? It fills him with pride and pleasure to see you submissive and trained to be his personal fucktoy. He had manipulated you effectively to feed his desires. He made sure to have you prioritize his pleasure over yours. To have you so obedient whenever he'd force you on your knees to take his cock or to not cum until he has brings a wicked smile to his features.

All this longing for your body was probably because of his prolonged loneliness. His isolation from society felt necessary for his mission to save humanity, he needed to focus. Perhaps he has been stressed for so long that's why he would treat you so roughly in bed, but you always took him like a good little slut. Fyodor thinks you're slowly pulling him away from God and stripping him of his faith. He keeps forgetting to repent every time he's done fucking you. But it was no worry, he's sure God could understand him, right?

God might have sent you to him as a blessing in disguise! He saw his child suffering and offered him relief. Yes, that's it. Everything made sense now. You're meant for him, and only for him. Just as Eve was made for Adam. You're here to take what he's giving you. Yes, of course, everything is so clear now.

You can have his isolation, you have the hate that it brings. Fyodor made sure to separate you from others who could potentially take you away from him. He must have your focus solely on him. He made you cut ties with friends and family and even made you quit your job to stay at his secret place. There you would always wait for him to return and bring him pleasure.

You can have his absence of faith. Fyodor is sure he's straying away from his godly beliefs. How could he remember to say a prayer when his mind is occupied with lewd memories and fantasies of you? Every time your cunt welcomed his cock, his mind with go blank except for the sensations it brought. You have rendered him faithless and filled his head with filth instead.

You can have his everything. Fyodor has grown unhealthily obsessed with you. That initial infatuation had led him to this path of debauchery. Every moment he's seeking you and the pleasure only you can give him. You take him so fucking well that you deserve everything he has to offer. His time, his devotion, his affection, and all you had to do was be a good girl as he'll make sure you're treated well.

Fyodor has lost track of his purpose. All his plans were getting delayed. He was unable to resist a good fuck when you were displayed on his bed. However, you're not completely free from your independent thoughts as you would ask him questions if you can go outside or see your family. He'd always reassure you that it would be soon knowing that soon would never arrive. Sometimes, it would seem as though you have managed to fuck out every logical bone in his body as he starts to function on his sexual desires alone. What an accomplishment you have achieved of fucking the Fyodor Dostoevsky dumb.

You tear down his reason. It's your sex that he can smell. You make him perfect. You have helped him become somebody else. Fyodor doesn't need a change of body when he's with you. He knows you'd welcome him always between your legs. You'd scream his name until your voice would grow hoarse. You'd let him hold you after he has exhausted you to the point of unconsciousness. Even when you slept, it wasn't enough. He thought how wonderful you were to still take him in your sleep.

He wants to fuck you like an animal. He wants to feel you from the inside. He wants to fuck you like an animal. His whole existence is flawed but you get him closer to God. With every thrust of his hips and every time his cock kisses your cervix, you bring him so much closer to God with how heavenly you felt.

Fyodor's head grew hazy as though he was living in a dream. He knows everything he's experiencing with you is real. He lived blissfully for a month until you approached him one evening. You had glassy eyes when you demanded to leave. You're beginning to get suspicious, it took you long enough though. Fyodor predicted this, but he can't afford to let you walk out the door.

"Please, Fyodor! Let me go! I must see my family—"

You bite your lip shut when Fyodor laughed mockingly at you. He walked over to you and caressed your cheek with a malicious smile.

"So, you want to end this relationship with me?"

"This...what we have isn't a relationship"

"Oh, how awfully wrong you are, [Name]"

"You're only using me! For...for sex!"

"That doesn't mean I don't love you, mоя дорогая"

You angrily peeled Fyodor's hand away from your cheek, this makes him frown immediately. You couldn't take it anymore as you marched towards the exit. How stupid you felt for falling for this wicked man's schemes. He didn't love you, he's only obsessed with your body! You can't tolerate being treated as a sex object for his own sexual gratification. However, before your hand could grab the handle of the door, you felt a pang of pain from behind your skull before your vision went black.

Fyodor has gently finished wrapping fresh bandages around your head before gently placing a kiss on your forehead. As he gazed at you, he smiled at the fact that you had ceased having those thoughts of escape. You still moaned his name the same when he fucked you, if anything, it appears as though you have welcomed him even more than before. Fyodor couldn't help but grin. All he needed to do was create minor adjustments to your brain and you finally gave in to your true nature: to submit to him.

Perhaps being this world's Savior wasn't his time yet, he must wait for a few more years or even centuries to continue this journey. But for now, Fyodor is content with you. For as long as you remain on this earth, he shall never let you go. Here in his hold, you must stay. He'll make sure you're taken care of while you take care of his carnal needs. Fyodor hums as he strokes your bandaged head lovingly, he rests his cheek against your temple.

"Through every forest, above the trees. Within my stomach, scraped off my knees"

He recites. You listen to him vacantly. He reaches to gently grab your chin before tilting your face upwards to him. Fyodor hums before leaning down to kiss you briefly on the lips.

"I drink the honey inside your hive. You are the reason I stay alive"

He finishes, and a crooked smile appears on your face. Fyodor grins to himself before his slender hand starts to snake up your skirt.

©kitasgloves (do not steal or copy)

[ppssession]

ของฝากจากการเดินทาง

Lathan just checked in to a hotel. This is a long holiday trip.

He chose to travel to the countryside of an Asian country. Luckily, there was a hotel nearby and it was close to the places he was going to visit. After checking in, Lathan set off.

He walked around the countryside to explore the beautiful nature. As time passed, he started to feel hungry. He looked for a restaurant and found an old shop.

When he entered the shop, he met an old man who looked harmless. The old man asked in a husky voice, “What would you like to eat, customer?”

Lathan was slightly startled, he politely replied, “Any local food.” After receiving the answer, the old man disappeared into the back of the shop. Lathan sat at the table for a while, the old man came out from the back of the shop with soup in his hand.

When the soup plate was in front of him, Athan took the first bite and put it in his mouth. He found the delicious taste and started to eat the soup with great relish. The whole scene was in the old man's sight, and the old man didn't blink even once.

เมื่ออาธานกินซุปเสร็จ เขากำลังจะจ่ายเงินค่าอาหาร แต่ชายชราเจ้าของร้านก็หยุดเขา

Old Man: No need to pay, I'll pay for you. Lathan thanked him for his kindness and walked away, with the old man smiling at him from behind.

When Lathan returned to the hotel, he immediately fell asleep on the soft bed.

In the middle of the night, Lathan felt a heat all over his body, as if something was burning him.

Lathan's body twitched and his eyes rolled back and forth, but everything slowly calmed down and Lathan fell asleep again.

In the morning, Lethan woke up and picked up his phone to check his face. Oh, it was better than I thought.

This body is mine now. I'm tired of being a boring old man in the countryside. Now the old man has possessed Lathan's body.

With a magical herb that has the power to make those who eat the first tree become possessed by those who eat the second tree.

Ahh, this young man's body is so good. I feel more life energy than an old person.

The old man wanted to leave this crazy place. The old man in Lathan's body packed his things and headed back to Australia. He looked at Lathan's ID card. Mr. Lathan's name is not bad. Here's my name.

Months later, the new Lathan is enjoying life.

“Who should I have fun with today? Thank you for coming to me to give me your body, Lathan,” he said, running his hand over his erect penis in his pants.

Okay, this is the first non-Asian guy I've written lol. Hope you like it. This was a small request from my followers and friends, but I'm sorry, this was supposed to be posted an hour ago but I got caught up in other things. Hope you like it.

[trippinsorrows]

ltye: in your hands

authors note: welp. here i am, once again. we're back with yet another 'what if' scenario, prompted by you lovely people in an ask that i can't seem to find to link right now. smh.

words: 3.3k

warnings: none. just sam being sam.

song inspo: in your hands by halle

Roman should have stuck with his first mind. Stayed home. Texted her some excuse about being caught up with work. She would have never found out the truth, and even if she did, he wouldn’t have given two fucks. 

Because this shit doesn’t seem to be getting any better. 

This dating thing. 

It’s gotta be at least the fifth or sixth one he’s taken her on, and each one has been just as miserable up until the point where he gets her on her knees, gagging or bouncing on his dick the minute they get back to his penthouse. Anything before that has been irksome, borderline miserable. 

Samantha is stunning. Has been since they were kids, and her body is the most desirable of the women he has on his roster. She leans on the thinner side of what he prefers, but the tits and ass are decent, regardless. She’s also just as kinky as him, which is why they’ve worked all these years.

But, the more “dates” Roman forces himself to power through, the more he’s starting to feel like bedroom activities is where it stops for them. 

Technically, he’s always known this. Even if he did have some level of desire to be in a real relationship with someone, which he doesn't, it would never be her. She’s vain, condescending, and seems to think she’s somehow better than the other women he fucks with.

If only she realized he views her just like he views the rest of the women. A warm body with a wet cunt to help him get his dick wet. 

“Roman!” Her voice cuts through his inner dialogue as he focuses on her cleavage. The dress she wore, short and tight, doesn’t help his desire to skip to the fucking part of this evening. “Did you hear what I said?”

“No.” Roman sees no sense in lying to her. “I probably don’t care either.”

She rolls her eyes and proceeds to continue like he literally didn’t just tell her he doesn’t care. “I was saying we should go somewhere.”

He’s partially intrigued now. Mostly because he’ll probably need to set her ass straight. “Where?”

She smiles and shrugs. “I don’t know. I was thinking Bora Bora.”

He shakes his head. “So go.”

She frowns, clarifying. “I said we should go, Roman.”

He scoffs, looking off at the ice sculpture in the middle of the upscale restaurant. A waste of money, in his opinion. “What the hell makes you think I have time to go to fucking Bora Bora with you?” He really wants to ask her what makes her think he would want to in the first place, but he’s trying to be somewhat less of an asshole to see if maybe this could work.

His Wise Man’s nervous voice balanced out with sage wisdom returning to the front of his mind.

“If the Elders are to force you into a marriage, why not with someone you already know? Especially someone who you know would have no issue in giving you an heir.”

If only Samantha wasn’t so fucking annoying.

She leans back in the chair. “You make time for these dates.”

Out of obligation. But, he won’t say that. “Yeah, but I can get my nut and send your ass packing in the same night. Can't do that if we're out of the fucking country.”

“You’re suck a di—”

“I’m so sorry.”

Soft. It’s the first thing that comes to mind hearing her voice. Light, almost. Kind. Even with just three words being spoken. And that’s just based off audio. Visually, Roman’s thoughts take an entirely different direction.

Stunning. 

Roman’s seen, entertained, and done a lot more with some beautiful women in his time, but the one standing at their table seems to have something more than all of them put together. She’s beautiful, easily one of the most gorgeous women he’s ever laid eyes on. And her smile, small but genuine makes him pause. As does her body.

She’s wearing the same uniform he’s noticed on the other waitresses, but none of them fill them out like she does. The white, long sleeved shirt that’s tucked into the knee length black pencil skirt can’t hide the curves he can practically see through the bland outfit. Nice, heavy breast. Curvy hips, thick thighs and an ass he can partially see from the front. 

This. This is his preferred body type. A woman who has something he can grab onto when he’s fucking her from behind. And Roman can only imagine what it would be like to be holding onto those luscious hips of hers while he—

“Oh my god, are you stupid?” Samantha’s annoying voice once again pulls him from his carnal fantasies. She gestures between herself and him. “Can you not see we’re in the middle of something?”

The girl, who Roman would guess is in her late twenties, early thirties at most, immediately looks repentant. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—I was just going to apologize for your wa—”

“Whatever.” Samantha lifts her hand, silencing the girl who’s now looking down at her shoes, clearly embarrassed. “What’s the special for this evening?”

“What’s your name?” Roman’s question comes out at the same time as Samantha’s inquiry. However, his voice clearly presents with more of a commanding nature. 

She swallows. “S–Solana.”

Pretty. Just like her. 

Samantha notices the way Roman is looking at her and is fully confused as to why he’s asking this fat troll for her name. She cuts in again, in that same nasty tone. “Hello? I asked you a question.” 

Solana is clearly struggling with Samantha’s aggressiveness, Roman wondering why this bitch is directing whatever unresolved feelings she has onto this innocent girl. “Umm, I think—”

Samantha scoffs, nose turned up. “You’re our waitress, and you don’t even know what the evening special is?”

“No ma’am, I do. I’m sorry. It’s just—it’s been a long day.” There’s a weight to her words, a sadness in her voice and in her pretty brown eyes. Roman notices all of these things and finds himself wondering what the story is. Everyone has one, and hers is suddenly of interest to him. For reasons he cannot understand. 

“Pretty unprofessional to bring up your personal life, don’t you think?”

Solana closes her eyes, pausing before answering. She looks exhausted. Mentally and physically. “It’s Squab. That’s the main co—”

“I’m a vegetarian. I don’t eat meat.” Roman rolls his eyes. This hoe has been saying that since they were in high school, yet every so often she goes back to having a normal fucking diet only to switch back to that salad shit. “What’s on your—”

“I’ll do us both a favor and get her to shut the fuck up.” Roman has had enough, both of Samantha’s grating voice but mostly her being a bitch to this girl for no reason. He’s a dick on the regular. He knows this. But, never has he come across someone like this Solana woman who, with just her presence alone, exudes such softness. Like, she doesn’t have a mean bone in her fine ass body. And she clearly doesn’t because anyone else would have probably lost their job by cussing Samantha out. Not that it wouldn’t be deserved.

Roman catches the faintest hint of a smile on Solana’s face as she redirects her attention to him. “Give her the salmon. I’ll take your best steak. For wine, you carry Madeira?” 

She’s pulled out her notepad and finishes taking down the order before answering with a nod. “Yes, sir.”

Roman’s jaw clenches at that sir bit. He could ruin this girl. “What do you recommend?”

She’s visibly taken back by his question, probably by the fact that he’s asking her for her opinion. “Umm—”

“Roman, I can rec—”

“I didn’t ask you,” he cuts that bitch off with the quickness, eyes never leaving the pretty girl before him. “I asked Solana.”

Her smiles widens as she answers in a more confident tone. “Julio Barros…..1950.”

Roman smirks. 

Exactly what he was going to order.

“I’ll take it.”

Their gazes linger on each other a second too long for Samantha’s liking as she cuts in once once more. “You can go now.”

Solana’s smile drops again, Roman suddenly finding himself all annoyed. Her smile is something pretty that he wouldn’t mind seeing more of, though that irritation is waned as he’s granted the view of her nice, round ass and curvy hips swaying as she walks to the back to turn in their order.

Samantha reaches over and touches his hand, Roman snatching it back and sneering at her. “What?”

She sighs. “Baby, I’m trying to talk about us.”

And just like that, he’s annoyed all over again. “There is no us.”

Samantha looks sad only for a brief second. “Roman, I’m not stupid. I know what these dates have been for. You’re trying to see if it could work.”

“If what could work?”

“Us.” She goes on to share. “There’s rumors that the Elders have been putting more pressure on you to settle down and make an heir.” Sam leans over the table, intentionally trying to emphasize her cleavage. It’s nice. He’ll give her that. But, he’s certain it’s nothing compared to Solana though and those big breast of her hers. “I can do that for you. Be that for you. Be your wife. The mother of your children.”

Not a damn thing she’s saying sounds even the least bit desirable. At all. 

“I mean, we’ve been fucking around since we were kids. Why not make it official?”

For a lot of reasons. All the reasons. The main one being Roman don’t like this bitch unless she’s choking on or riding his dick. 

What he does like, however, and finds solace in is the interactions with Ms. Solana as the evening goes on. They’re not very often outside of her bringing the bottle of wine and their food when it’s ready as well as a check-in here or there on how they’re doing.

Each time Samantha sending her the dirtiest look or just being an ol’e nasty bitch, to which Roman shuts down, cutting her off and even telling her to shut the fuck up.

The girl is just trying to do her damn job. And as his eyes locate and land on her on several different occasions, he can see that she works hard. Moving from table to table, almost saddened facial expression indicates she’s on the receiving end of more verbal lashings from people like Samantha.

That actually pisses him off, Roman having to control and stop himself from doing some out of pocket shit. 

Again, for what reason, he hasn’t the slightest clue. He just knows those brief glimpses of her actually smiling, usually when she’s chatting with a coworker, do something for him. 

Maybe even to him. 

And unbeknownst to him, the intrigue goes both ways, because as shitty a day Solana Miller was having, the handsome stranger with the rude girlfriend or wife or whatever has somehow, someway made this day just a little bit better.

It’s been some time, if ever, Solana has come across someone with such a presence about them. Him dining at this uppity restaurant she was able to score a job at tells her that he’s wealthy. His disposition and the fact that he somehow secured it to where the surrounding tables of where he sits have been marked as unavailable tells her that he has pull. But, the way he interacts with her, a literal nobody, she’s not sure what that means.

Especially with the beautiful woman he’s with, because while Solana thinks she’s every bit a bitch as most of the women who come into this place, she’s a stunning bitch. 

Which is why Solana can’t allow herself to believe that that equally beautiful looking man is looking at her in any sort of capacity. 

There’s no way in he—

“Solana.”

And just like that, she's frowning again. “Mami?”

The last thing she expected to see this evening was the sight of her mother, already dressed in her scrubs, baby in her arms. 

Solana’s baby. 

Her 11-month–old daughter, Soraya. 

The shock wears off as Nina gets closer, Solana shaking her head, “what are you—”

Nina shakes her head, face apologetic and tone contrite. “I’m so sorry, baby, but I got called into work. I can’t watch Raya.”

Shit

It's inconvenient, but Solana understands it. She remembers the countless times Nina had no other option but to leave her with a neighbor after being called into work at all kinds of hours. She’s always worked so hard to take care of the two of them when Solana was growing up. 

“It’s okay, mama.” Solana easily reaches for her daughter, a wave of relief and happiness washing over her as she holds and kisses her baby. The source of all her joy. All of the struggle, every bit of it, is worth it as long as she has her daughter. She’d do anything for her. “How was she?”

Nina gives a small chuckle. “She’s like you were and still are. An easy child.” Solana kisses Soraya’s temple. “Sol…..” And just like that, Solana already knows she’s probably not going to like what she’s about to hear. “I know you’ve said you don’t want to go after him for child support, but it’s not fair for you to be out here working two jobs while putting yourself through school to take care of his child.”

Solana holds Soraya just a smidge tighter. “She’s my baby, mami.” 

Nina counters. “She’s his biological child.” Solana looks away, hopeful her manager, Aldis, doesn’t come out and scold her for this little interaction. She’s scheduled to clock out in another half hour anyway. “He should be paying you child support.”

Her mom is right. Solana knows this, knows that it’s not fair for her to have to be the sole provider for her baby girl, while Cruz lives his best life as an absentee, deadbeat dad. And she’s considered on several occasions going to the courthouse to see what she needs to do to get that ball rolling. 

But, every time, she’s haunted by something he said the last time they spoke, not even a month after her daughter was born. 

“Don’t you get it? We were fine before she came in the picture! We could be fine again if she wasn’t.”

Solana’s never been more disturbed than she was to hear those words leave his mouth. That’s why she’s glad he’s gone, that he wants nothing to do with her or his child. Because she would never trust to leave her baby girl with him in the first place.

And if that means she does it without him contributing financially, that’s exactly what she’ll do. 

Solana shifts Soraya from one hip to the other. “I don’t need him, mami.” And she doesn’t. Because if Solana had to resort to sex work to take care of herself and her daughter, it’s exactly what she’d do.

Nina gives a heavy sigh. “Mija, you know I help you when I can.”

“I know.” Because she does. But, the same way that times are hard for her. They’re hard for her mom, too. Everyone’s struggling these days, it seems. Everyone except the rich people who wine and dine without a care in the world around them. “I’ll be okay.”

Always will be.

Nina gives a knowing nod, hugging her daughter and gently taking her granddaughter’s hand, kissing it, speaking in Spanish. “I’ll see you later, okay? Abuela loves you.”

Solana smiles. “Thanks, mama.”

“Always, baby.” 

Nina reaches Solana the diaper bag, Solana placing it on the bar stool, knowing it’s bound to be left alone. These rich ass people would never bother with the Ross purchase. With a final parting smile, Nina is off to the hospital, leaving Solana with her daughter who’s just now waking up.

“Hi, baby girl,” Solana giggles at the almost cranky expression on her baby’s face. Raya is definitely not the happiest camper when being woken up. 

A glance at the time reminds Solana that she technically is still on the clock and really shouldn’t have her child with her. But, with no other option, she accepts she’ll just have to clock out early and take whatever those consequences are.

But before that, the least she can do is grab the bill from the table where the handsome stranger and his girlfriend sat. She’s briefly disappointed to see the table empty, even if she remembers his deep voice thanking her for her assistance this evening as she brought them that same check earlier. 

It’s a silly thing, really. And she tries to push away the disappointment at not properly telling him goodbye. A stranger. 

Silly.

Soraya grasps at the collar of her shirt while Solana walks over to the table, pausing as she gets close enough to see that there’s more than just a bill with a signature. There’s cash. A stack of it. Money in hand, she’s confused, because this man paid with a black card, so what—

“Good.” 

Solana gaps and spins around, her eyes widening as she looks up. He’s a lot taller than she realized, burly body nearly eclipsing her view of anything else, silky black hair in such a neat, perfect bun. “Wanted to make sure you got it.”

Brows furrowed, it’s hard for her to speak for a lot of reasons. One of which is the fact that this man cannot be real. A man cannot be this handsome. But, he is real, and he’s looking at her.

And Soraya. 

“I—” She shakes her head, clearing her throat. “Is this—you already paid—”

“That’s not for the bill,” his voice is so velvety, smooth, and deep. “It’s your tip.”

Eyes widening, her gaze snaps to the wad of cash as Soraya continues to grasp and squeeze her shirt. She doesn’t even need to count to know that this is a nice amount of money. 

Too much.

“I can’t—it’s too much.” 

He chuckles, “do I look like I can’t afford it?” Her eyes roam over his big, muscular build dressed in fine, expensive looking clothes. He just oozes wealth. 

And power. 

“N–no.”

“Dealing with Samantha, trust me, you earned it.” Solana looks down, wanting to hide her small smile. His gaze redirects to the child in her arm. “Who is this?”

And just like that, Solana’s proud smile returns. “My daughter, Soraya.” It’s like Soraya knows she’s being discussed, lifting her little head to look at Roman. A big grin on her face before she buries her face into Solana’s neck. 

Roman makes a sound, and she can almost swear she sees the smallest smile on his handsome face. “She looks like you.”

That creates such a warm, fuzzy feeling in her stomach, “thank you…..”

He looks at her a bit confused, like her unspoken question surprises him, before answering. “Roman.” Roman. “Roman Reigns.”

Roman Reigns. Even his name is powerful.

It fits him.

Solana shifts Soraya around as she starts to get wiggly in her arms. “Well, thank you, Mr. Reigns.” She’s certain the shock of just how much money this random, rich stranger has given her hasn’t truly set in. Because if it had, she’d have a much more visceral response. 

A lot more.

“Roman,” he corrects. “Call me Roman.” 

“Roman….” 

Something indecipherable flashes in his eyes, something that makes her feel a bit unnerved under his intense stare. It’s broken, however, by her now irritated daughter.

“Mama.” Soraya makes her dissatisfaction at being still for too long known by punching her tiny fist against Solana’s chest. “Mama!”

“Shhhhh,” Solana kisses her temple, trying to quiet her down before someone makes Aldis aware of her presence. She looks at Roman, eyes softening, “thank you again.”

Truly. Honestly. He hasn’t the slightest clue how much this will help her. It’s why she can stand here without anxiety and concern about making it to the bus stop on time. Tonight.....tonight she’ll treat herself and her baby with calling an Uber instead. 

Might even stop and pick up dinner.

Roman nods, eyes briefly glancing at her daughter again, the smallest smile on his face. “I’ll see you later, Solana.” His head dips a bit in acknowledgment towards her baby. “Soraya.”

The smile is plastered on her face even as he walks off without another word. And it’s only a good two minutes later that she catches onto what he said. A certain word in particular standing out the most. 

What did he mean by later?