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mandalhoerian · 9 months

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ghost to its haunt, II | leon kennedy x reader

GHOST TO ITS HAUNT, I. pairing: leon kennedy x f!reader summary: You really shouldn't take advice about your love life from gorgeous women in red dresses, who knew being cold to Leon once would lead to him snapping? word count: 19K warnings: vomiting, edging, orgasm denial, overstimulation, rough sex to gentle sex, safe word usage, it gets a bit angsty, hurt/comfort, teeny tiny l-bomb, fluff... as a treat notes: We're here y'all. I went way overboard again. I hope it was worth it. This is so horribly unedited, please enjoy. header template can be found here.

🌀 read on ao3!

i. The White House ballroom shimmers with golden lights, and the air buzzes with the sound of laughter and polite conversation with the soft hum of elegant music relaxing the nerves in the background, setting the perfect backdrop for the prestigious event where the whole First Family would be making appearance, most probably to present Ashley Graham, whom the rumors were circulating about of a kidnapping — it was obvious they wanted to be seen and be put in the front page of the newspapers, and everybody with and their mother with a press pass was searching for an opportunity.

As other fellow journalists mingle with politicians and distinguished guests, you move gracefully through the crowd, camera hanging around your neck, as you interview influential guests and fish for possible slips of the tongue that could be important.

After you’re satisfied with that, standing near the refreshment table, you busy yourself with discreetly capturing candid shots of dignitaries and officials while gliding over the crowd to look for a decent looking photo, when out of nowhere, the viewfinder lands on a familiar someone, making you do a double take and going back to him through the camera, your heart going a mile an hour and doing a backflip where it stood, sending a jolt through your body from the surprised spike, breath catching as your time together flooded back in a stuttering film reel from monochrome to color as you registered it was really him.

In the soft glow of the yellow light emanating from the elegant chandelier above, Leon is almost shining — the center figure of a conversation, all attention on him while he dons a weary expression and the slightest of a polite smile, his blond hair catching the illumination and setting it ablaze with a golden radiance, like a halo, cascading in gentle strands and framing his face with an ethereal glow. He is dressed impeccably, wearing a tailored suit that fits him flawlessly and emphasizes his strong figure in the most flattering way as he talked to other men who shared similar clothing, but it’s unfamiliar to you, having never seen him wearing something like that before — it’s strange to you, but you guess feeling unfamiliar and a stranger is supposed to be normal, and a needlepoint of an ache stings your chest.

You keep watching through the viewfinder for what seems like an eternity when only a few seconds of absolute shock has passed, feeling like it’d be similar to looking directly at the sun with a naked eye if you lowered your camera to stare better.

It wouldn’t be an exaggeration to say you didn’t know if you would ever see him again. He and you don’t have anything in common, didn’t meet in a place where you’d be crossing paths often, he lives in a world different than yours, seems like there are oceans between you despite standing in the same room. The joy of meeting him again is melancholic, and the sadness is bittersweet, a weight you can’t lift makes a home on your chest, crushing your lungs underneath it.

What ties you and him anymore? What could there be besides pleasantries? Two years spent by each other’s side without being anything at all together — and the rest, rust and stardust, just like that?

Your fingers betray you and take a photo of him, a flattering shot with the focus on him, and you come back down from la-la land with the muted shutter sound. Stumbling on him when you were expecting it the least has you dumb enough to not realize if Leon were to turn his head, he would literally see you standing there, across the room, pointing a camera directly at him, and the realization has you flustered, dropping your hands and looking for a corner to slip into the shadow of, all the while he is still at the corner of your vision, angry at the intrusive thought in your head:

Look at me. Look at me. Look at me.

It’s almost as if he’s heard you, or sensed your presence somehow, because he abruptly turns, eyebrows pinched, and your eyes lock across the crowded room.

For a moment, there isn’t anyone else in the room but you and him.

You see the genuine, unguarded surprise light up his face, people around him keep talking, but he zeroes in on you, not blinking once, not even breathing, perhaps, because that’s how you are, frozen in time almost. It takes everything in you to not flee like some heroine in a rom-com, your hands snatching a champagne glass from a nearby waiter’s tray when he conveniently walks by the minute Leon breaks the magic of the moment first by shaking his head as if disoriented and saying something to his companions before starting to make his way toward you, steps picking up the speed as he gets closer.

Why is he coming this way? What does he even want to say? What do we even talk about?

Leon is strangely out of breath as he finally stops in front of you, hand coming up to open the button of his jacket, a tentative, fond smile tugs at the corner of his lips, an incredible contrast to how he was like with the group of men he was with. He calls your name like witnessing an answer to a prayer, nodding in greeting, and it’s awkward, so against the nature of how your greetings used to be, always accompanied by some sort of loving touch to translate the feelings.

“Leon,” you reply, voice and the hand around the delicate stem slightly shaky, and you tighten your fingers to get rid of it.

Neither of you talk for a beat, eyes avoidant of each other as you try to take the other in without being noticed. You didn’t want to acknowledge how nervous he is, how it was because of you, how he would barely let you see any of it before, none of this could mean anything anymore.

"You look amazing," Leon finally says, breaking the silence, the rasp in his low voice raising goosebumps all throughout your back, how he looks at you is a loaded gun at your temple.

"Thank you," you reply, fiddling with your hair nervously once and freezing once you catch yourself doing so, it has to be about self-consciousness, you can’t be giddy and nervous, you can’t be flattered. “You, too.”

The corner of his mouth hitches up in a twitch and leaves a faint, crooked grin in its wake afterwards, his eyebrows raise and fall, head tilting and straightening again. “You think so? Pulled this out from the back of the closet. It’s a couple years old. Feels like it’s gonna rip if I don’t stand like a robot at all times.”

It’s tight fitting in the best way possible, you fight to not look at how his shirt is straining as it hugs his chest and how well-defined his thighs are, but the way he puts it in the added context manages to make you laugh a bit. “It sounds like the job of a Queen’s Guard.”

(Your first instinct was to say, What a memorable show that’d be for the boring old people here, but it’s way too intimate and suggestive, you don’t feel like you should say it, and more surprised how naturally and comfortably it comes to you that it’s frightening.)

You don’t notice him get closer and stand right beside you, the moment you do however, suddenly watching the boring old people seem more interesting. “Would have loved that. At least people wouldn’t expect me to speak, then.”

You take a sip from the flute glass. “Suffering from popularity, are you?”

“I have you to thank for getting me out of my misery,” he says, nearly whispering like he wants nobody to hear him.

It’s so easy to fall into a back-and-forth with him like nothing of dire consequence happened, he makes it too comfortable when he’s the silent type in the first place — the one to be talked to, and you ponder, mind conjuring an image of him dutifully standing beside the President’s daughter, her getting to find out how gooey he is inside when the exterior is of a rock, and the irritability seeps into your speech, replacing the lighthearted undertone of the conversation. “You shouldn’t have come at all in the first place, then.”

He reaches for his tie, tugging on it, you see that he wants to loosen it, take it off entirely, but can’t do anything about it, not really, not when he’s surrounded by all the glamor and politics, and somehow it’s a good metaphor to be tied to the White House the way he is. “It was a last second invite, I wasn’t going to attend, but… I’m glad I did.”

Leon knowingly says it in a voice that conveys what he wants to say without having to say it, and here it was again, the hooded, longing stare that darkens the blue of his eyes. There’s another spike in your heartbeat, palms getting sweaty, all of a sudden it’s too hot to handle and the spacey ballroom is stifling.

You’re looking down, and feel the feather of a touch at your pinky that you wouldn’t even have noticed was there if you didn’t catch his own extending toward yours, and you’re mesmerized by the sight, by the tenderness of the gesture. He can’t possibly hold your hand because of all the people around, you think, but he only reaches, doesn’t touch, just lets the heat be there, and you realize that it’s you that he’s waiting for — he won’t initiate anything uncomfortable.

“Leon!”

You snatch your hand away so forcefully that you nearly bump into the refreshment table, the actual President’s daughter Ashley Graham parting the crowd and walking up to you — to Leon gets you in a frenzy you can’t explain and want to avoid, and so, face flushed from almost causing a scene by spilling champagne everywhere, you quickly mumble your pathetic excuse, “I should go,” and leave like your tail is on fire.

Leon calls, “No, hey, wait!” after you, but you’re maneuvering around the crowd with the agility shame has presented you. The disappointed, “Ashley…” of his comes from afar, and you momentarily look back over your shoulder to get a glimpse of her reaching out to touch his tie and the cute giggling that follows.

It hurts how close they are. It hurts how you still get hurt by the notion he has hidden sides he shares with others but won’t let you see.

You’re so unsettled that it’s only after stumbling on a few coworkers that reason shows back up and says you were an idiot to walk out like that when Ashley herself had shown up, you could have asked her a few questions, no journalist stumbled on a chance like that and you’d blown it.

All this because you were too disturbed seeing her with him — the familiarity in the exchanged “Leon” and “Ashley”s knocking the breath right out of you.

Jealousy. Really?

No, it went beyond jealousy.

This was envy. Of her shared experience with Leon.

You couldn’t possibly be this childish, could you? Two people of opposite genders can be friends, it doesn’t make sense to be making a mountain out of a molehill. How is he drawing out the vulnerable, young and neglected self of you in the past, wallowing in loneliness and the ill-fated ache of being left behind and not chosen over anybody?

You never want to feel like that ever again. This was the biggest reason you really should let Leon go, not because he broke up with you first.

Why did you let him get close like that in the first place just now? It’s stupid and child-like to crave being chased like that when you know nothing good will come out of it.

Leon suddenly wanting to commit has all the toxicity and accumulated grudge in you bubbling to the surface, angry and boiling and condensed, sticking to your insides like tar, you don’t want any of this, don’t want to be like this, you can’t bend to what he wants anymore. Not only does Leon wear around an armor at all times unlike you, he’s also covered in spikes — it hurts trying to get close to him, who knows what him getting close will do to you?

Who knows how you’re going to ruin it the moment things start getting better because you resent him for the past?

As the event at the White House draws to a close, guests are guided towards the designated exit area by attentive staff members. The grand ballroom, really the East Room, was where the gathering had taken place, located on the State Floor, which is the main floor of the White House reserved for official events and receptions, and you find yourself amidst a sea of elegantly dressed guests, each one chatting animatedly about the evening's affairs. You navigate the ornate hallways adorned with historic artwork and furnishings, taking in the grandeur of the place while being mindful of the strict protocols in place. It takes your mind off of things even if only for a while, but everything you look at begins to remind you of Ashley, and what once was breathtaking is now tinted with green, making you sick of yourself.

Along with the guests, you are directed towards a designated security checkpoint. Secret Service agents, dressed in formal attire but discreetly vigilant, ensure the safety of everyone leaving the event. Guests are required to present their official invitations or credentials before being allowed to depart, you hand your invitation to a stern but courteous Secret Service agent, who checks your name against the guest list and returns a friendly nod as he allows you to pass.

You’re finely attuned to Leon, consciousness of him making you notice he isn’t in the crowd at all.

He’s not being let out like the other guests are.

So the newspaper issue coming out tomorrow is right, he isn’t like the other guests.

An acidic feeling rises.

“It was a last minute invitation.”

“Leon!”

“Ashley…”

You feel like you’re being watched.

You also feel like you’re going to puke, though, so it could be out of being ill at ease over preferably not wanting to do that in front of the most dignified of the U.S.

Outside, you feel a rush of cool night air as you make your way towards the awaiting vehicles where the guests departed, assisted by courteous White House staff in locating their assigned transportation.

In your moment of privacy, you take out your camera, and scroll to the picture you’ve taken of him, zooming enough until his face is the only thing in frame. You don’t have anything else left from him. Your bottom lip bears the pressure of your teeth as you hesitate, questioning whether you should delete the picture or hold onto it as a memento of what once was.

Just as you're on the brink of a decision, you're startled by the sound of running footsteps approaching from behind. You turn around to see Leon, disheveled and looking flustered, his tie missing and a few buttons of his shirt undone. The lights of the White House cast a halo around him, making him appear almost ethereal, like a figure from a distant memory.

And you’re a deer caught in the headlights.

He clears his throat, the silence between speaking volumes, crackling and popping with the charged electricity of the heavy words left floating unsaid. .

"Hey," he says softly, eyes searching yours for any sign of what you might be feeling.

"Hi," you reply, trying to maintain composure despite the butterflies in your stomach, putting your camera away, flustered a bit that he could have seen that.

He takes a deep breath, as if trying to gather the courage to say something. "I wanted to talk to you," he combs his hair back, but it falls back anyway, his voice is clogged from nervousness and sincerity. "About everything. Properly."

You swallow, trying to dispel the lump in your throat. "There isn't a point in that anymore," you say, trying to protect yourself from potential heartache.

"There is," he insists, his determination shining through. "There is, for—"

"For closure?" you interrupt, a bitter smile forming.

"No," he responds firmly, his expression showing cracks of something sad and agitated. "Not closure. I want to start again, do this properly."

Your heart stirs at his words, torn between skepticism and a treacherous glimmer of hope, and the ugly feeling in response to him wanting to string you along with what he wants again. "I'm not some guinea pig, Leon.”

He begins to approach you like you’re a frightened animal that’d take off with the slightest of abrupt movements. “I know,” he says, mouth falling open and closing again as if he’s exasperated by the words, head shaking. "None of it was fair to you and I can't change the past, but I've thought about you a lot during these past weeks. I miss you, I miss what we had."

That catches you off guard. On paper, it sounds sweet, but it really is not. What you had was something of a double edged sword that got in between when you tried to get close to him, it was a wall and it was ammunition at the same time, comfortable in some ways, yes, but for him. You always burned for something more and waited for him to acknowledge the fire, but he acted like the smoke didn’t bother him, he could easily breathe through it.

So you laugh, and watch as his eyes close shut in gloom. “I bet you do. It was convenient for you after all.”

“I can’t deny that. But believe it or not, I wasn’t happy. I wanted more. I wanted to be more.” He took a deep breath, searching for the right words, one hand at his wrist, playing with the watch there. "I know I messed up before, and I'm sorry for hurting you for so long. I can't promise that things will be easy going forward but—”

You’ve had enough of this. “What do you want, Leon?”

Having noticed you were getting more agitated and detached from the conversation as he kept going on, he reaches out and catches your hand in a loose hold, thumb feathering over your knuckles. “I want to be yours.”

Blinking rapidly is all you could come up with as a reaction through the blankness that takes over your thoughts.

“You don’t have to be mine.” Leon presses on with more restrained desperation when he sees no response from you, the heat of his palms shocking you as he cups your face with both hands, looking you dead in the eye, searching for what was once out in the open for him. “But I wanna be yours, I am yours. I always was. I’m… If you’ll have me…I want to be more to you—I could be so much more—”

You step away from him, looking him up and down as if he’s burnt you, and his Adam’s apple bobs with the harshness of the rejection, eyebrows pulled in to hide sadness, hands hanging in the air for a bit before falling back to his sides, fingers flexing like he’s dealing with the sensation of your skin still lingering.

“You want to be more to me.” Your arm wildly gestures and claps back to your side as you turn around to face to the side, hands on your hips like there’s someone you can confirm with if they’re also seeing this or not. “You always have to say things in a roundabout way. Or maybe that’s not the case at all and you are afraid of change and that’s what this is about—and yeah, okay, let’s say I accept that and say yes, will you let me be more?”

“Of course, I—”

“Do you know what that means?” You fight a shiver from the chilly air, crossing your arms against your chest as if it could shield you. “It means none of what we had will work anymore. It means the moment I’m treated like that again, I’m gone.”

He releases a big exhale, like he’s been released from ancient chains he’s had to drag around with him for his whole life, he sees this as some sort of green light from you — because you wouldn’t have brought this up if it wasn’t a possibility. You’re still here, hearing him out, and it’s your hamartia. “I’m not incapable of understanding that, I just…”

"Know how it ends?" you ask, echoing his words from the past, and he falls silent, the environmental sounds of cars going about and conversations of the people seep into the quiet between.

His confession would have made you the happiest person in the world once.

There’s still something in you for him, but it’s exhausted, it’s not excited, only anxious, it doesn’t know if it should be happy or not, terribly numb yet wanting to cry at the same time.

You've been through the patterns before, the moments of closeness followed by distance, and the history will repeat itself if you let it. Your heart yearns for love, nothing short of it or close to it, you want to be loved openly, unashamed, unafraid, and you can’t trust him with it, don’t think he’s ready, and you have to think of yourself now. It was two years of putting him first.

But Leon insists on haunting you. “Will you at least have dinner with me sometime? No expectations, just... talking.”

“I don’t know, Leon.”

“Is that a no, then?”

“I don’t know.”

That means chase me, and you’re astounded at yourself for not drawing the line — not even wanting to.

“That’s fine.” He drapes his suit jacket over your shoulders, his scent enveloping you and the cold melting away into warmth within seconds, your hands clutch onto it, stunned. “I’ll call you, then. That okay?”

Avoidant of his stare, your pride doesn’t let you say, Sure. Instead shrugging, “Do as you like.”

ii. A lady in a gorgeous red dress and the most beautiful silky, shiny, short black hair is keeping you company as you’re drinking your woes away that night.

The bar is a pleasantly lit space, with inviting, warm lights casting a cozy ambiance. The walls are adorned with vintage photographs and framed artwork, giving the place a touch of nostalgia and character, air filled with a blend of laughter, murmured conversations, and the faint notes of the jazz music playing in the background, creating a charming hum of activity. A polished mahogany bar counter stretches along one side of the room, lined with bar stools, and attended to by a skilled bartender who effortlessly crafts cocktails for the patrons, you’ve come back to him over and over again for more mango margaritas, and behind him, bottles of various spirits and liqueurs are neatly displayed on shelves, reflecting the soft glow of the lights. The place is furnished with a mix of plush leather booths and high-top tables, offering a comfortable and inviting seating arrangement, the deep red upholstery of the booths complements the warm wooden tones, adding a touch of sophistication to the space, everything about this place is safe, and that’s why you chose to get drunk in this place tonight.

The lady in red and you are seated in a cozy corner booth, giving you both a degree of privacy amidst the social hubbub. The table is adorned with a flickering candle, casting dancing shadows on your faces, enhancing the intimate atmosphere of your conversation.

You’ve long forgotten how and when she decided to sit by you, but she’s a great listener and a natural man-repeller — one would think she would do the opposite instead, but something about her keeps them at bay, makes them hesitate to make a move, and you suppose she is unapproachable. That sort of beauty would intimidate anyone of rejection. And you’re talking about man troubles with this kind of woman when it’s obvious it’s beneath her, thinking someone like her would never share your idiocy in matters of the heart, she looks too experienced and dignified for it, looks like she’s mastered any game of love.

It’s not in her intent to embarrass you when she playfully, pointedly asks, “And you thought you could change him?” chin resting against the back of her hand, manicured fingers curled inwards, dark eyes inquisitive and twinkling in the faint lighting of the bar — but you feel like a teenager talking about her first boyfriend anyway.

The lady in red tilts her head slightly, her black hair shimmering as she listens intently. A small smile plays on her lips, and you can sense amusement in her expression. Her fingers trace the rim of her cocktail glass, the redness of her nail polish matching the elegance of her dress.

"Do I look that dumb?" you ask, feeling a touch defensive, a self-conscious smile on your face. "No, he doesn't need changing, I just... I thought maybe I could change the outcome, you know?"

She leans back, the dim light casting an alluring glow on her face, teasing yet genuine. "You just said you accepted that it would end. I'm getting mixed signals,"

"Yeah, I know... But I guess I am that dumb," you admit, feeling a bit embarrassed discussing your romantic struggles with such a sophisticated woman when she puts it like that and exposes your bullshit for what it is — it’s like getting called out by an authority figure you’re looking up to as a child.

"Men like him are predictable, so yes, I would say that you are. For wasting your emotions," she says bluntly, but her eyes show a hint of empathy.

So, you try to make her see it from your perspective, seeking solace from that point of view in the conversation, but the knot continuously folding within your chest isn’t letting you get any relief. “It was worth it. He was worth it. I mean, I’ve never felt like I was wasting anything. You know — you know that famous quote? ‘Don’t cry because it’s over; smile because it happened’?”

Her lips curve into a sympathetic smile, but her eyes remain sharp as she retorts. “You’re not smiling now, are you, hun?”

You have to break eye contact at that, “Well, I’m sad about some other things right now as well, so…” you trail off, not wanting to delve into the other troubles plaguing your mind.

“Oh? Do tell.”

“I technically can’t talk about it. It’s work related.”

“Hmm,” she hums, taking a sip of her red wine cherry sangria, her eyes never leaving yours, tips of her fingers trailing the bumps on her cocktail glass.

“What?” you ask, her silence penetrating your thoughts.

She doesn’t get into a back and forth with you, saying it straight away. “I have eyes. All night long, you’ve been drowning in alcohol for someone, not something. You’re lucky I don’t take the change of heart personally.”

You sense that she’s majorly unbothered at all times to take anything personally, yet, your first instinct is to protect yourself from the allegations. “I’m not lying. It is work related.” The confession comes out childishly guilty. “He’s just unexpectedly involved.”

“Now things are getting interesting.”

Your brow wrinkles at the sight of her feigning interest. She doesn’t look surprised.

“They weren’t before?”

"You don't want me to answer that," she says enigmatically, leaving you to wonder what she truly thinks of your life and choices, and you can't help but feel drawn to her mystery and wisdom, even if her observations are uncomfortable to confront.

“Okay, wow,” you widen your eyes at her bluntness, pitch comically rising, but come down from the moment after that, tipping your glass to her. “But yeah, things got… complicated thanks to that and I’m not sure what to do or what to feel. Let’s just say he hasn’t been honest with me and I know why now. Still doesn’t make it any better.”

“Dump him.”

The tipsiness reflects in the way you use grammar comically for emphasis. “We’re already dump. We’ve dumped.”

“He’ll come back. When he does, dump him.”

Scratch begging, you can’t even imagine Leon wanting you to take him back. “Yeah, sure he’ll be back. To pack his shit and leave.”

“Will he really?”

You give her a look, and she gives a subtle, amused one back, so mysterious for no reason.

“But we’re done for good this time. This isn’t him being away for like a month without saying a word, we’ve talked it out, he returned my key. It’s over.”

“Over isn’t the word I’d use.”

“How?”

“I have a feeling.” She looks like she’s scheming behind that subtly knowing smile about something she knows but you don’t, index finger tracing along the rim of her glass. “So… When he comes back, give him a taste of his own medicine. Ghost him.”

You’re terribly interested, imagination going against you, her confidence and subtle smile make you curious about the possibilities.. “Ghost him as in..?”

“Stop caring. Show him he’s become just another passerby on the street. Treat him like how you’d another stranger. Kind. Polite. Bland. Withdraw emotionally.”

That’s not how your personality is, you’re self-aware of being too desperate for your own good. That sort of strength in knowing one’s worth, not lowering standards for any kind of men and forcing them to step up are what chic women like her are good at. Besides, Leon isn’t the sort of man she’s talking about, anyway. “I don’t want to hurt him, though. He hasn’t been that bad to me.”

Her eyebrow slowly starts rising up, accompanied by a flat look that puts you in your place.

“So… Be cold?” you ask, feeling like you’ve disappointed your mother or something.

“Yes.”

“I don’t even know why we’re talking about this when it’s the farthest from what’ll happen—”

Your phone starts ringing, you take it out to see who it is, and see Leon’s contact name flashing on the screen.

“Is that him?”

The urge to answer is strong. "Yeah,"

“Her authority surprises you. "Don't answer.”

"But... He'll worry. I know I would," you protest, torn between following her advice and your natural instincts.

The mischievous glint in her eyes is the glare of light reflecting from a knife’s edge. "That's exactly the point. He's the cat, you're the mouse. Let him chase you around, play with him.”

“I’m not sure what that’ll be good for at this point…”

“Depends. Think about it carefully. How do you want this to end?”

iii. D.C.’s darkness embraces you, mirroring the turmoil within as your stumbled silhouette emerges from the shadows, teetering and swaying with the weight of intoxication. It’s a moonless night, heavy with the weight of regret and shattered dreams, and stumbling through the dimly lit streets, you clutch the remnants of your sanity, drowned in the bitter solace of liquid courage to feel the emotions you’d been avoiding.

But as you fumble for your keys, a flicker of dread ignites in your chest, for there, lurking in the shadows, stands your past, patiently waiting — an ex-lover, hauntingly familiar yet irreversibly estranged.

He is all but highlighted by the contours of the darkness illuminated by the fluorescent light overhead, standing tall, his broad shoulders squared and his stance rigid, holding onto a phone, the strength of his grip on his own biceps something else, the veins on his forearms standing out, and you are unsure if you’re hallucinating things you wanted to see. “You’re late.”

But that didn’t sound as gentle and inspired by the more vulnerable moments you treasured and preserved like a rare insect in amber as you often imagined in your head, the reality being too pent up and harsh and angry — how he’d managed to convey that with two simple words and nothing more, you had no idea.

“And you’re back.” A ghost back to haunt you. A physical ache in your chest manifests, grinding and grounding your lungs, you don’t know what kind of face you’re making as you exhale the pressure out. “Welcome, Leon.”

“Where the hell have you been until this hour? Why didn’t you pick up? You can’t do this, you can’t just not answer when you’re out and I’m going insane over what could have happened—”

“Okay, dad,” you snort. Your head is down as you maneuver around him like some jester while he is talking his head off. Fumbling with your bag for your keys, you squint up at him through the blurriness that doesn’t clear from your vision no matter how much you try to blink it away. “Like you pick up my calls properly.”

(Leon looks like hell from what you can focus on — a wave of dark circles under his eyes, unkempt hair that still looked frustratingly pretty, a special kind of distant, sharp look, small bruises on his neck dipping downwards and disappearing into the skin covered by the t-shirt underneath the jacket and tiny cuts on his face, smell of the hospital, a unique blend of antiseptic and cleanliness with a faint medicinal undertone. But, oh well. Doesn’t he always, when he comes back from his trips? It’s not your problem anymore. It isn’t. He’d figure it out. He figured it out by himself, always.)

The set of his lips is firm, creating an almost imperceptible grimace. “Jesus — ugh. Have you been drinking?”

“Wow, Captain Obvious.”

Leon drops the ridiculous interrogation — for now — about what you’ve been up to in your private time private to you when the activity in question is clear as day, and puts a hand on your upper back when you wobble after finally getting your keys out. “Is everything alright?”

A stuttering laugh slurs from you at the perpetrator feeling concerned after ransacking everything in the scene of the crime that was your life. “I don’t think that’s a conversation I want to have with you…” You keep missing the keyhole. Just go in. “In front of my house… At three in the morning…”

His hands hover over yours, unsure, not wanting to cross a boundary and eliciting battery acid to sour your stomach, but also making you notice one of them was bandaged as if there was a huge gash in the middle of it. “Here, let me help…”

You swat him away. “No, I have it.”

“Don’t be stubborn, give it here.”

“I can do it on my own, thank you very much.”

“Listen—”

Click.

“A-ha.” You turn your head to where he was but find out he has moved, and then you actually find him at the other side of you, (embarrassing, you weren’t that drunk) and you don’t let the awkwardness of that deter you from flashing a triumphant smile, acting way more sober than you were. “What, you think I can’t function without you or something?”

The shadows over his face move in gloom almost, you’re imagining things. “That’s not what I—”

You push forward without any consideration for what he has to say, entering your house, staggering as you kick your shoes off, fatigue draped over you like a weighted blanket all of a sudden. “Doooon’t care.”

“Hey!” He shouts after you while the only mission objective you have in mind is getting to your bed, stalking through the hall like some zombie and getting farther away. “You’re just gonna leave the door wide open?—”

“Just close it before leaving!” The wave of your hand is slow and heavy in the air, your eyes half-closed already, it’s all instinct guiding you to the bedroom. “Too tired. Just gonna tap out.”

“You have to lock—” But you’re not listening, nor responding anymore, and he curses. “Shit.” There is a brief silence in which you find your bedroom door and tumble in, and he chooses that moment of happiness to ask a question when any input has faded from your perception. “Hey, I’m coming in, okay?”

Meanwhile you have soared through the air and landed on the dreamily soft mattress of your bed, limbs spread out like a starfish, enjoying the silky coolness of the covers against your face.

And he's still yelling, still back at the entrance, his voice is like a fly buzzing in the distance. “Are you listening? I said I’m coming in.”

“Yeah, whatever,” you murmur sleepily, to no one in particular. The room becomes a hazy blur as exhaustion and intoxication intertwine, pulling you deeper into the comforting embrace of slumber. The words of concern and exasperation from Leon are distant, as if filtered through a thick fog that blankets your senses.

There’s a window of opportunity of silence in which you’re a bird not burdened by the weight of existence and floating upward into the hands of a pleasant state of blankness, and then there his voice is again, closer this time, in the room, and you haven’t even heard him sneak in.

"You're really gonna regret not taking your makeup off in the morning when you see the stain it leaves," Leon softly chides, and despite talking to you, he sounds like he doesn’t want to wake you up, a vocal fry in his low and soft tone, and you could sleep listening to it honestly, if he just wasn’t this persistent..

With a drowsy sigh, you mumble, "Be quiet, I'm... sleep," your words slurring together.

You physically feel Leon's eyes linger on your face, his gaze gentle but heavy, the same weight when he wants to say something so badly but is holding back. He reaches out, his fingers grazing your cheek lightly, a silent gesture of care and it makes you jump at the unexpectedness of it, looking up at him with one cheek squished against the bed and see that he’s perched up on the edge of your bed, no idea how he can sit lile that well-balanced. "You really should be cleaning up first," he persists, worry evident.

There’s something else there — but your brain is slow to keep up, it’s like trying to open an image on Internet Explorer and it’s loading streak by streak, pixel by pixel. But even in that state, your emotions know that touch shouldn’t be given to an ex of all people, you can’t even hate how it instantly has you cozy and comfortable and safe, your response coming out as a hum, consciousness drifting further into the depths.

"That'll be one hell of a hangover," Leon tries once more, the way he speaks is so pleasantly smooth and dulcet.

Your mood instantly shifts when he disturbs you yet again. “You have to get up.”

Growing slightly irritated, you murmur, "Can you not nag me first thing after coming back, please? I'm going to sleep. You can pack up your belongings all by your lonesome and get outta here."

Leon's shoulders slump ever so slightly, understanding and resigned. He knows better than to press the matter further, realizing the futility of trying to reason with a half-asleep mind.

"Right..." he concedes, his voice softening with acceptance.

"Right," you affirm, your voice trailing off as sleep claims you once more.

You think you sleep successfully.

For a while.

It could have been half an hour or just a few minutes before he startles you awake once more. He stands over you, slightly long blond hair falling over his forehead and those striking ice blue eyes narrowing slightly with concern, he’s so pretty in the gray darkness. He brushes his hair away with a distracted gesture. “At least get up and change. You’ll feel much better.”

“I'll feel much better if you just let me sleep, oh my god,” you reply with a hint of drowsy annoyance, your voice muffled by the pillow you've pulled over your head.

He sounds like he’s arched up an eyebrow. "You're not getting any tonight. In less than an hour, you'll be spending the rest of the night in front of the toilet, throwing up," he says, huffing.

You peek out from under the pillow, meeting his gaze with a mock glare. "Yeah, yeah. Leave me alone." You pull the pillow back over your head in a half-hearted attempt to block him out. It’s your shield against him

With a small smile playing on his lips, he reaches down and gently tugs at one corner of it. "Don't say I didn't warn you.”

You resist for a moment, and there’s an unexpected tug of war, but the warmth of his hand and the concern in his eyes are too inviting to ignore. Slowly, you relent and slide the pillow off, allowing him to see your face. "Then don't say I told you so. I'm just tryna catch some Z's, goddamn.”

"Okay," he concedes, a bit sad. With a soft sigh, shifting to move from the edge of the bed to sit closer and more comfortably, his hand resting on your shoulder in a comforting gesture.

Head having found its way back under the pillow again, you wave him off. "Okay. Now, shoo.”

You seize the silence for a moment, enjoying the tranquility even if it's interrupted by Leon's presence beside you.

His concern only adds fuel to the fire.

"Are you sure everything's alright? You're not a drinker," he questions, with the familiarity of someone who once knew you intimately.

"Oh m—” You shoot up to sit cross-legged on the bed, irritated beyond belief. “Alright, you've successfully acquired my undivided attention." Your arms cross defensively over your chest, drawing out our swords. "So, spill the beans, what do you want? And before I can drift into the blissful realm of sleep, what exactly must I accomplish for your satisfaction?" you add, dripping with sarcasm.

His spine straightens, you don’t know if he did that to look bigger than you, but he’s tentative, usually composed demeanor faltering slightly. "I'm just worried."

Play cold, was it? You didn’t even need to try. It came naturally. "Okay. So?"

"So?” His eyebrows can’t go any lower. “What's going on with you?"

Your anger simmers just below the surface, and you can feel your frustration boiling over. "What's going on with me? What is this, a ketchup?"

"Ketchup?" he echoes, blinking, clearly puzzled by your choice of words.

"Catch-up. You know what I mean. Why are you trying to catch-up with me?"

The question that follows is icy. "Am I not allowed to ask you about your well-being?"

"Oh, you care about that now?" Your words are little unexpected presents for him, wrapped with venom. The anger inside you starts to spill out, and you can feel yourself losing control.

There's a pause, and you almost regret the harshness in your response. As you glance over at him, you notice a flicker of hurt in his eyes, a vulnerability that he rarely displays. The sight only serves to stoke the fire of your anger as he gets worked up too.

Leon's cold exterior is a shield, protecting both you and himself from the intense anger that simmers just beneath the surface. You can see it in the way his jaw flexes.

"That's... the most ridiculous thing to ever come out of your mouth—” He raises his arm and then wrenches himself off the bed, back to you, running a hand down his face. “No, you know what. You're drunk, I shouldn't... I'm not picking this fight with you," he says, his voice firm and controlled, there’s strain behind his words.

"Yeah, you're picking girls instead.” The bitterness in your voice makes it difficult for you to hold back the torrent of the real emotion behind it all. “From private airports,"

His head turns your way, hand hanging in the air in front of his face. "What? What are you talking about?" His profile is to you, his brow furrowing in genuine confusion.

You take a shaky breath, threatening to spill over, like porcelain all tumbled over inside the cabinet and the only thing holding the disaster off is one single door. "Nothing apparently. Everything's nothing to you. Like nothing. President's daughter. Nothing. Biggest spoof of this year yet. Nothing."

His eyes widen with realization, fully turning around, and you can see the gears trying to turn with the wrench you’ve just jammed between cogs. He struggles to find the right response, caught off guard. "Wait. Ashley?—"

You scoff. "It's Ashley to you now, is it?"

Leon's stoicism remains unyielding, and it infuriates you even more. It's as if he's completely missing the point, focusing on technicalities and trivialities instead of acknowledging the elephant in the room. He starts to inquire, his voice professional and overly serious that he might as well be talking to a stranger. Where did you get this information? Can't be paparazzi. Nobody knows—"

You slide off the bed, swaying as you start walking up to him, first sentence coming out as if you’re singing. "Eeeeveryone will know tomorrow. President's daughter with her bodyguard. The new Rachel and Frank. Didn't know you were Secret Service by the way. Can't believe I learned it from my workplace instead of the man, the myth, the legend himself—"

He steadies you by your shoulders as you reach him. "That's enough," he interjects sharply, the coldness returning to his tone, clashing with his hold.

"Bold words from a boytoy—" you continue, not willing to back down in the face of his attempt to silence you.

"Stop talking," he commands, teeth gritted, patience wearing thin.

With a deep breath, he steps away, whipping out his phone and walks hurriedly towards the door. His demeanor shifts from cold and collected to urgent and focused as he makes a call. "Hunnigan, this is Kennedy. Sorry for calling in the middle of the night. We have a problem."

The overwhelming surge of emotions, combined with the numerous drinks you've consumed, takes a toll on your body, and you can no longer ignore the urge to be sick. Half-encouraged by the way Leon brushed you off, you stumble to your feet, feeling unsteady and disoriented. Your vision blurs as you make your way to the nearest bathroom, desperately trying to reach it in time. The cold tiles of the floor feel unforgiving beneath your feet, and you're grateful for the support of the walls as you try to steady yourself.

Finally, you make it to the toilet just in time, and without warning, you bend over and empty the contents of your stomach into the bowl. Each heave feels like a release of all the pain, anger, and disappointment that have been building up inside you. The room spins around you, and you close your eyes, trying to find some semblance of stability.

Leon's conversation in the hall becomes background noise to you as you struggle to regain your composure in the bathroom. The noises you've made reach him, and he finally realizes that you're not in your room anymore.

His footsteps are approaching fast. "Gotta go. Update me on it tomorrow. Yeah, got it. I owe you one.”

He enters the bathroom, and you're immediately filled with frustration and embarrassment at his intrusion. "Hey," he says, all that squabbling only for him to show concern.

You snap, your anger fueled by the discomfort of being caught in such a vulnerable state. "Get out, I'm vomiting my guts out for fuck's sake, why did you come in!?"

Leon ignores your protests. "Sshh, I got you," He moves closer and starts rubbing your back, trying to provide some comfort.

Despite your best efforts, another wave of nausea hits you, and you vomit once again. The embarrassment only intensifies, and you feel the heat of humiliation rising to your cheeks.

"Let it out. It's gonna be okay," Leon says reassuringly, his hand continuing to draw shapes on your back in a soothing gesture.

Your voice gurgles at the back of your throat, making it difficult to speak clearly. "No."

"I know, I know," he murmurs, his voice filled with understanding. He was just angry with you.

"Why did I drink that much?" you whine, feeling regretful and sick, wiping the tears away from your face.

He tries to lighten the mood despite the seriousness of the situation. "Don't I know?"

Not caring anymore, you rest your cheek on the toilet seat. "I swear I'm not drinking again.”

Leon stays with you, his presence a comforting anchor as you finally finish vomiting. He puts his hands in your armpits, trying to help you stand up.

"Alright. Up you go," he encourages gently, trying to get you on your feet.

But you comically lower yourself back down onto the cold bathroom floor, finding solace in the cool tiles beneath you. "Noooo, I'll just lie down, let me just..."

He begins to outright nag. "No, you can't sleep here,"

Your body is protesting any further movement. "I'm so tired."

"Let's get you to bed."

"This is my bed.”

"You'll get even more sick if you do that.”

This time, he doesn't bother getting your cooperation. With ease, he lifts you up, effortlessly carrying you to your actual bed. Despite your protests, you can't resist his strength, and you're grateful for the relief of being off the floor.

You find yourself lying on your bed, surrounded by the familiar comfort of your sheets and blankets. The world around you still feels a little hazy, but Leon's presence is a grounding force, providing a sense of safety amidst the chaos.

He tucks you in, ensuring you're warm and comfortable, and you can't help but feel a small twinge of gratitude despite the lingering anger and hurt.

"Rest now," he says softly, his hand gently brushing a strand of hair away from your face.

You nod, too tired and overwhelmed to say anything more. As your eyes start to drift shut, you feel Leon beside you, and for a moment, you allow yourself to be comforted by his touch.

iv. You step inside your cozy little flat with a heavy heart and a head full of the hangover from last night's events and the busy day you left behind in the dust. But all thoughts catch in your throat when you see that familiar silhouette slouched into your armchair, your favorite novel resting open across his lap. A flood of mixed emotions hits you – annoyance at finding him still there uninvited, happiness that he's still here, and anger at the conflicting emotions he stirs within you.

"Welcome back," he says, his voice unnervingly calm. You notice the way he fidgets with the corner of the book. "How are you feeling?" he asks, his eyes scanning your face, searching for any sign of distress or discomfort.

You remember how you practically teleported to your workplace this morning, wanting to avoid confrontation and the shame of having been witnessed going green from jealousy and in such a vulnerable state, believing he’d be gone when you came back, along with every trace of him. "Why are you still here?"

He sighs, placing the book on the coffee table and rising from his seat. He comes over to take your bag from you, his fingers brushing against yours for a brief moment. "Hop in the shower for now. I couldn't prepare a bath because I didn't know when you'd be home."

"Leon, why are you—" you start to question, but he cuts you off sharply.

"Later," He impatiently runs a hand through his slightly tousled hair, face showing his annoyance. "Go get refreshed. Have you had anything to eat?" he asks, trying to shift the focus away from the uncomfortable conversation.

"Not really..."

"I figured. Made you some food. It's just sandwiches, but they're decent," he says, his voice softening slightly as he tries to be helpful despite your reluctance.

He sets your bag aside to its designated place with gentle care, as if afraid to disturb you further.

"I appreciate the effort, but—".

"I said later. Now, go.”

With a heavy sigh, you decide not to push the issue for now, not when he’s being snippy with you. There's a part of you that wants to scream at him to leave, to get out of your life and stop playing with your emotions. But there's another part that appreciates his presence, his care, and his support in this moment of vulnerability.

This is getting so complicated.

In the end, you find yourself complying with his request and heading to the shower, trying to wash away the physical and emotional weight of the night.

You come back after a while to find him sprawled on the couch, his body tense, and his glare fixated on the ceiling. As you enter the room, he notices you lingering and propels himself up, sitting upright with a stiff posture.

"Come sit," he says, his voice low and controlled, motioning towards the empty space beside him.

You gingerly take a seat, facing him, his fingers drumming slightly on his thigh.

You try gauging his mood. "You're being weird. What is this about?"

"I said we'd talk, didn't I? We're talking," he replies, his tone guarded, his fingers now interlocking tightly, as if trying to contain his emotions.

You feel a bit uneasy under his scrutinizing gaze. "Okay. What about?"

"That was quite the stunt, you know? Don't ever do that to me again,"

Confusion clouds your features as you try to decipher his cryptic words. "What? Do what?" you ask, genuinely puzzled.

He sucks in a sharp breath. "Stop playing dumb," He leans forward slightly, his body language becoming more intense. "Don't ever not pick up my calls in a situation like that, in the middle of the night when I can't reach you or find you. I was about to go searching for you myself—fucking hell."

You try to process what he means by searching for you himself. "How would that even work?"

His lips press into a thin line, and he lets out a deep exhale, the tension in his jaw becoming more pronounced. "You'd be surprised how good I am at finding people." He alludes at something you have no idea about, his voice edged with frustration, shifting his weight, manspreading, hands coming on his thighs. Assertive. "Now, again, pick up my calls. Especially at night if you're out on your own.”

Your hands clenched into fists at your sides, your own defensiveness mirror in your body language. "I'm not obligated to do that." You were safe, you knew how to keep yourself safe, what is he going on about?

Leon's eyes narrow, and he leans forward, one hand gripping the edge of the couch as if trying to anchor himself in the conversation, the other waving sharply between you and him. "Is this a joke to you? I was fucking worried sick," he spits, his voice tinged with restrained emotion, eyes burning, swallowing hard, trying to compose himself, his fingers tapping nervously against the upholstery. "This concerns your safety," His voice catches slightly. "Do you have any idea what kind of danger you were in? What if something had happened to you, I—-!" He pauses, his voice cracking with emotion, closing his eyes and taking a second to slow down. "A drunk woman walking all by herself after midnight without any protection—-" he continues after, eyes darting around the room, searching for the right words to convey his feelings.

Your shoulders are squared, chin lifted defiantly, a gesture of strength despite the turmoil inside. "I can take care of myself." You sniffle and look away in agitation, not wanting him to see you as weak or incapable.

"Oh, bullshit," he fires back, voice rising. "Don't take this personally, but you don't stand a chance against a man while piss drunk."

You raised an eyebrow, not willing to back down. "And now you're exaggerating. It was a safe bar just around the block—-"

Leon’s smiling but there’s nothing humorous in it. He points a finger at you, then. "Don't be a brat to me right now. I am serious," he says, tone shooting down. "I need you to acknowledge how stupid this was of you and never do it again. For yourself. Go out and drink however you like, whenever you like, with whoever you like, but be safe. Understand?"

“No.” You barely stutter it.

He’s right.

You can’t take that he’s right.

This topic has to be dropped.

“What do you mean no?”

“Just leave it.”

A muscle in his jaw jumps. You shrink from the barely held back glare he shoots your way. “Not until you agree to do as I say.”

“This isn’t getting us anywhere, stop being so obstinate and drop it, please."

“Oh, you don’t understand, do you? No idea whatsoever how angry I am with you.” His voice is dangerously low, sending shivers down your spine. “I’ll make you understand.”

With practiced ease, he wraps an iron grip around your waist, pulling you near. Your heart leaps against the wall of his chest as his arm encloses you in his hold, cradling you safely within its grasp. A swift intake of air catches in your throat and your whole fips upside down, an arm secured around the swell of your ass as you’re dangling upside down from his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. And just like that, you find yourself being taken away, carried effortlessly and unceremoniously towards the bedroom, taking in breath the freshness of Leon’s cologne and just how wide and strong his back is. Before you could utter or comprehend another word, he was already setting you down upon the plush surface of your bed – his commanding presence towering above you on all fours. His formidable frame pressed against yours, pinning you to the bed while a fervent expression of lust and veiled anger stared unabashed into your very soul.

Leon reaches down to undo the buttons of your bottom, deftly popping each one apart until they slide to the floor at the foot of the bed. His warm fingers caress your legs as he drags your pants away from your body and tosses them aside, exposing your bare feet and ankles which begin to curl under the duvet at the base of the bed. Your knees are parted further by the pressure of his palm cupping your inner thighs and guiding them wider apart, allowing him room enough to climb astride you where his weight presses heavily into the bed beneath you both.

“Only stupid thoughts behind those pretty eyes, huh? I’ll just have to fuck you dumb to the point where you just get it.” Beneath your panties, his large, roughened hands cup your sex — hot, slick flesh twitching and yearning toward fulfillment without shame or embarrassment. It only heightens the pleasure when he rolls his thumb against that little knot of heat, dipping down to rub slow circles around it — prodding with lazy delight. Even when his attention falls elsewhere to trace the curve of your belly and navel, your ardor rises despite such restrained attentions. You are lost to longing; helpless as a feather caught in a cyclone of wanton desire.

Leon's hand glides down, descending with lethal intention. With a silent growl born of frustrated passion, he breathes out, "So goddamn wet for me." He burrows into your jugular vein with a probing kiss, seizing your heartbeats hostage, but you have no complaints about how much the simple action arouses your heated body.

There’s no oral, so he has to use lube for this, coating his fingers, and he doesn’t look like he’s about to have sex, it’s like he’s off to a battle.

His anger is something you didn’t know would spur you on this hotly, each hard look shooting directly into your crotch.

Two digits delve into the depths of your awaiting cunt, sliding in seamlessly, filling you completely. Yes!

Your thoughts become hazy, the edges of your mind as raw as exposed nerves, consumed by a surge of heat that flows thick and slow like molten lava.

Delicately, the heel of his hand weighs upon your throbbing and hardened clit, providing a tantalizing pressure, while his fingers work you up and up, knowing just how to hurl you toward the edge.

You could come like this. If he just keeps going the way that he is now, you are so close.

However, this time, he opts to prolong the experience, deliberately massaging his fingers deep within you, unhurried yet uncontrollably thorough. It's as if he intends to extract every last drop of pleasure from your willing form.

You find yourself gasping for precious breath, your arousal flooding you with an intensity you've never felt under the coldness behind his piercing blue gaze. “Please,” you say, body instinctively curving towards his touch, and he eases on the pressure, making you softly whine. “No, more.”

“More? Alright. Like this?”

That sounds dangerous. You should read the moderated vexation, but you don’t.

And then he ups the intensity.

The immense pleasure overwhelms you, rendering you powerless in its wake. Your legs involuntarily jerk, your toes curling as they make contact with the sheets, there’s a frenzied urgency in the way grind against his palm, desperately craving that elusive climax hovering magnetically close but just beyond your grasp.

You teeter precariously on the edge of release, the climb to the impending orgasm has you trembling with anticipation, it’s just a final push away, and Leon is delivering it with flawless precision...

Until he isn’t.

His hand retreats, the fullness of his fingers slipping out of you, leaving behind an agonizing emptiness that your core clenches pathetically around. You're left yearning, aching for more, and you’ve been mercilessly dunked in ice water by a torturer, extinguishing the flames of ecstasy that had been building within you.

Your dumbfounded gaze remains fixed upon him, your breath perpetually caught in your chest, causing a painful tightness. His pink tongue comes out to lick his fingers, drenched in your ever-present slickness and the flavored lube, and the digits disappear behind his sensuous, kiss-reddened pink lips. A tremor courses through your chest, leaving you to pathetically inquire, "Why?"

“You know why.”

You adjust on the sheets, shifty, restless, trying your best to come back down and ignore the biting pleasure sinking like a ship. So he was really doing this.

And you were going along with it despite everything, craving everything he could give you.

“Now, look at me. Look at me,” he demands, gently turning your face towards him, his fingers still moist with your essence. “You know how this ends. Other than that, no means yes. Stop means keep going. Don’t means do it. Wait means continue. Struggling just tells me you like it.”

He generously allows you time to push him away, to draw the line and declare your unwillingness to continue this path.

"Leon—"

"What is your safe word?" he cuts you off, tone both commanding and measured. His eyebrows are low on his forehead, staring you down so hostile one would think you’re his enemy, chest broad, like he’s seconds from attacking.

"Rookie."

He kisses your temple. So loving against his cruelty just now. "Very well.”

It’s gone back to tumbling in bed together again, all two of you are capable of is avoiding whatever it is that you want to say and conveying the frustration through touch instead.

And he’s punishing you.

With all intents and purposes, Leon normally isn’t like this.

You didn’t know he’d snap just like that when all you did was a little push.

Leon's intensity and intimidating demeanor may seem at odds with his surprisingly indulgent and caring nature towards you. While his usual serious and frosty exterior can be off-putting to others, there is a different side of him — one that shows deep affection and thoughtfulness, albeit elusively. He runs on giving you whatever you want at the end of the day.

The first you noticed this was late one evening two years ago when you’d managed to snuggle up to him without him getting all stiff, as you sat together in the dark living room and watched a movie together, Leon's intense gaze softening as he observed you. You'd grown accustomed to his serious expression, but that night, you could see the faintest hint of concern in his eyes. You had yawned, feeling the exhaustion from a long day, and rested your head on his shoulder.

"You should get some rest," Leon said quietly, his voice hoarse and rough, yet gentle. "I can handle the rest of this."

"I'm okay, really," you replied, trying to suppress another yawn.

Leon's semi-frown had deepened as he reached for the quilt draped across the couch. Without a word, he had wrapped it around your shoulders, tucking it in snugly up to your neck. "Better," he said with a hint of satisfaction.

The small gesture had warmed your heart, knowing that despite his gruff demeanor, and tendency to not say anything, he genuinely cared for your well-being. As you had drifted off to sleep, he had remained by your side, watching over you in his silent but protective way.

In the following days, little surprises had started appearing around the house the more he came around. A new book you mentioned wanting to read, a set of cozy slippers, or a favorite snack tucked into the pantry. You had wondered where these gifts were coming from, but whenever you brought it up, Leon brushed it off as if it's nothing.

Yet, the repairs and chores he undertook in secret had been perhaps the most endearing. You had noticed the creaky door was now silent, the loose cabinet handle was firmly fixed, and the kitchen faucet no longer dripped. He would never mention these tasks, as if they were just a natural part of his day and you would think to yourself, It’s great to have a man around actually, wow. And it had nothing to do with the sex.

Another evening for example, after you had finished a hearty dinner, you had gotten up to clean up, but Leon had waved you off. "Relax," he’d said gruffly, "I've got it."

You’d decided to watch him from the threshold, curious about how he went about his chores, feeling weirded out by this busy man maneuvering around your kitchen like a housewife. He’d washed the dishes with care, meticulously drying each one before placing them back in the cupboard, cleaned the counters and even swept the floor with a focus when there was no need to.

He wouldn’t accept one praise or thanks for it, and you’d understood a bit late that this was his way of showing the affection he couldn’t with words.

It seems that the only context in which Leon feels comfortable enough expressing it is within sexual encounters; perhaps because the boundaries surrounding such actions are already defined. In these moments, his attention remains focused solely upon generating and maintaining your pleasure. His own satisfaction comes secondary to ensuring yours. And he finds control in it, pushing deep inside and striking rapid fire peak after another until you lay quaking beneath him, other times his ministrations fall closer to tenderness than intensity until even their quietest whispers roil across every part of you leaves you squirming through his attentions regardless of approach.

The thought alone puts you in the most compromising position possible: surrendering your body over to someone who just might leave you in ruins afterwards but whose mercy still tempts you nonetheless. There are times when his touch is harder than others and at other times, it's nothing short of achingly loving.

It’s hard to think straight whenever Leon is taking care of you. How could one possibly find it difficult to let go when you’re being spoiled by the best? Him and this whole arrangement had been giving you a lot of second thoughts while it lasted but you can never deny that every single time you collided together, it always ended in some form of relaxation and satisfaction with the help of the man who has proven that he knows what makes you feel good.

Even though he's not capable of saying his feelings out loud.

But that's never stopped him from making sure that you get all the spoils that he'd never allow anyone else to have in their lives. Maybe he liked to spoil you more than anything because he couldn’t give you much more. Maybe he felt a need to give back to you for staying silent and not wanting anything out of him.

He's a gentle man. Kind. Looks like a jawbreaker but is mushy inside.

You've made a mistake and he’s not going to let you off even if you say sorry.

Enthralled by this all, you don’t want him to.

As the anticipation crackles in the air, Leon's hands remove your ruined underwear, sliding them down your legs, leaving them discarded around your ankles. His hands travel up from your ankles to your calves, sensual in his caressing, and the way he touches the back of your knees has your core twitching, beginning the curling again.

Leaning down against you, his lips press languid, teasing kisses against the tender flesh of your breasts, interchanging between suckling, licking, and half-bites that you want would be stronger as one hand comes up to pay attention to the neglected one, giving you whiplash with the power behind his occasional squeezes and the punishing tugs and flicks on your nipple.

You don’t know how many minutes pass as he overpowers you and stops you from squirming and closing your thighs for any god-sent friction as they become the only things he pays attention to. It starts stinging at one point, aching sweetly that you want him to both keep moving and keep going.

“Stop, come on, please…”

“Why should I? I’m having a good time.” You can practically see the nipple that pops out of his mouth sizzle with soreness. “There you go again, saying stupid things.”

Oh, he’s mean.

He, somehow in a way that adds to the gratification, wrings a nipple that draws a yelp out of you. “My stupid girl. Acting like you’re not getting off on this when you know how to stop me.” With deliberate intent, his mouth embarks on a seductive exploration, trailing butterfly kisses along the path of your stomach. “Don’t use that mouth of yours other than making pretty noises for me, yeah?”

Each flick of his tongue against your hips sends a jolt of desire coursing through your body. Your legs instinctively respond, parting wider, asking for his touch.

There, just before the pinnacle of your thighs, he pauses, holding himself above you, his closeness tangible. He bites down on them, leaving temporary teeth marks this time, and you jolt upward against his mouth, but can’t properly move to satisfy yourself, your tiny moan eliciting a dark laugh from Leon. “That’s it, keep those sounds coming.”

The tip of his nose nudges against the delicate apex of your sex, provoking a surge of anticipation that consumes you. The whine for him to do something comes close to fly out of your throat but you know he’d do the opposite, so you lay there, hands coming down on his taut, strong shoulders and —

He’s still dressed. You didn’t even have a break to notice.

You’re zapped out of your head by the soft, warm breath rolling along your hypersensitive clit to your slit. It's a provocative, nowhere near enough of a drag, a delightful torment that he dangles in front of you. And then, he finally succumbs to his desire — your desire, his mouth descending upon your throbbing pussy and you can’t stop the drawn-out whine of satisfaction. “Oh my god! Yes, keep doing that, just like that, please!”

The sensation is overwhelming, a convergence of his roughened jaw tensing as he skillfully works you open. His tongue, slow and obedient, is a slick slide through your wet folds. He hums into you, the vibrations resonating deeply within your being and your legs attempt to clamp around his head, only to be stopped by the metal band that are his arms holding them down, and he bathes you in soft, slow, torturous caresses, parting you further, making his tongue delve in.

He doesn’t give you what you want. Not this time.

The pace of his relentless pussy-eating remains excruciatingly slow, as if he savors every moment, every lap of his tongue against your delicateness like he’s sipping up a beverage. The fusion of pleasure and pain are crackles that don’t explode into completion, pushing you to the very limits of your endurance.

In your desperate quest for release, your fingers instinctively scramble to clutch and tug at his soft hair, knowing that Leon relishes in the sensation, praying that he will reward you for doing that somehow.

The anticipation throwing a tantrum within you reaches a fever pitch, your entire being a symphony of quivering muscles and trembling limbs. Your body tenses like a drawn bow, the pleasure building to an almost unbearable crescendo. It wraps around you, about to release the arrow, while your gasps and squeaks fill the air.

You’re there, you’re finally there, finally.

Your thighs quiver uncontrollably as his grip is a vice around them, your stomach folding over itself inside in an uncontrollable frenzy, you’re being hurled toward the finish line with such speed intensity that it borders on pain.

Amidst the whirlwind of sensation you forget yourself. Your words dissolve into an incoherent babbling, your fragmented pleas begging for him to continue, to drive you to the brink of rapture and beyond. “Please, please, pleaseplease, almost—"

Each deliberate movement of his mouth, each calculated stroke of his tongue, sends waves of wax-hot ecstasy surging through your body.

Your senses are consumed by frustration and desire, the need to unravel in orgasmic bliss peaking to an almost unbearable level. It feels cruel, unjust, to be held in this suspended state of euphoria, teetering on the precipice of ecstasy without being allowed to take the leap.

And then, he takes all of it away.

What.

The maddening unfairness of it all engulfs you, rendering you speechless, frustrated beyond measure. It's a torment that cuts deep, leaving you trembling with unfulfilled desire. The ache within you intensifies, a cruel reminder of the pleasure withheld, and you find yourself helplessly grappling with the sheer agony of being denied what feels rightfully yours.

“No, nooooo,” you can’t help the pathetic sob. Want to slap his hand away when it comfortingly nestles against the apple of your cheek. “Fuck, this is so unfair!”

As you tremble like a leaf on the edge of frustration and craving, pulled back as the void you wanted to jump in getting smaller and smaller, caught between the pining for release and the ache of denial, Leon's voice reaches your ears like a calming balm. His soothing coos and the gentle stroke of his hands at both sides of your hips is a momentary respite from the overwhelming intensity. “You're doing so well. I’ve got you, sweet girl, you're okay, it'll pass.”

It’s his fault that it has to pass.

It angers you. He's only sweet to melt you like butter and take advantage of that again to fly you up only to make you fall, and catch you halfway so you won’t shatter into pieces.

He kisses up your stomach and peppers your collarbone and shoulders, but when he wants to capture your lips, you turn your face away, trying not to cry, attempts to push him off, futile. “Asshole, no, get away from me.”

He licks a stripe through the outside of your ear instead, and you buck your head toward the touch, ticklish. “Have to be one.”

The ache within you thrums, pricks of a thousand needles not hurting quite in the way you need, each one a reminder of the pleasure you crave. And he denied. You try to turn away, crawl out of the bed. So this is what you get for slipping up and wanting some dick. “Fuck you, let go of me...”

You only manage to flip on your belly when he presses down on you again, still clothed. He knows just how to soothe and alleviate the sting that prickles all over, kissing your nape. “Can’t. Sorry.”

Shivers go down your spine as he plants more kisses on your back, hooking an arm in front of your waist, palm pushing down on your navel and dizzying you again as he pulls you back to him. “You are not sorry—!”

His soft lips, like a healing touch, press against the corner of your shoulder, providing temporary relief as the ache subsides as his hands glide like soothing, cool velvet against your flushed, neglect-irritated skin.

He keeps doing that for a while, until your chest isn’t heaving anymore, and you’re face down, ass up on the mattress, comfortably floating in a state of bliss.

But just when you think you might it’s over, his thumbs peel open the lips of your pussy, and he blows on it to ignite stomped embers, compelling you to arch into his mouth, the dull ache blossoming from flavorless into ready for the ripe sweet. .

Leon shames you. “What’s that? You want more again?” You feel his fingers tracing alongside the outside of your entrance, not diving inside, teasing. “You know what to say.”

It’s all you’ve been saying this far, and you can’t think. “Please. Please!”

“Wrong answer.”

From then on, lost in a haze of pleasure and desire, the notion of time dissolves into insignificance, unable to tether you to the constructs of the world outside of his torture.

With each frustrating high you want to stop building, there comes a devastating low that starts to leave tears burning behind your eyelids until your vision blacks out. Leon skillfully takes you by the hand, a villain in a knight’s shining armor, rolling that boulder up the hill, only to let it come tumbling down to the bottom before it can reach the peak, watching blankly as you crumble.

It happens three more times before you lose all bodily control, knees unable to hold you up anymore, and he rolls you on your back again, sweat leaving the sheets so wet they could be transparent, and at the same time, you can’t focus on anything other than what’s going on between your legs, details blurring in your sensory overload, the world around you fading into a peripheral existence, the thick smell of arousal in the air suffocating.

In this state of surrender and exquisite agony, the pleasure ebbs and flows, slowing down, maintaining the heat that just isn’t burning enough. Any resistance that once flickered within you has now faded, leaving you utterly surrendered to Leon’s will as he moves you around like a ragdoll to his liking, a leg thrown over his shoulder and the other spread wide by an iron grip seizing the back of your knee.

You’re about to break. You don’t know how many times it’s been. “Fuck, Leon, please, please just let me go, let me come, please, I can’t anymore, I can’t, I need to come, I’m gonna go insane—please, please!”

"You're gonna go insane? You don't know what insane is," he states with a low rasp in his voice, his words laced with a sadistic edge. "Should've been there yesterday to see me."

Whining in response, you manage to release a series of broken pleas. "No, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, fuck, please stop, please!"

He doesn’t care. It’s like he’s made of stone.

The raw intensity in his gaze, the thin ring of blue around the black pool of his pupils threaten to swallow you whole as he props himself up above you, the muscles in his arms bulging and tight, veins prominent. “What are you sorry for?”

An apology is what he wanted from the start, and you no longer care about the reasons behind it. You’re well past dignity and shame, the desire to come overrides all rational thought that you think you would start jumping on his cock the moment he asked you to. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry, I apologize, okay, just, ugh…"

"You know, I don't think you need to come that badly," Leon snarls, his lips curving upwards in a cruel and cold smile. He raises himself onto his knees, distancing himself from your desperate reach.

"No!" you cry out, a high-pitched noise of denial. Your hand stretches out towards him, desperately grasping at empty air. "Wait! Wait! I do need to come, you can't do this to me, I can't—!"

But he ignores your calls, the smile having fallen into something blank again. "Just so you know, you asked for this." He swiftly undoes his belt, causing his trousers to fall around his narrow hips and then pool around his legs. "Don't be a baby and take it."

He turns away momentarily, allowing you to feast your eyes upon the carved muscles of his arms and back as he removes his shirt. Naked before you, his skin adorned by bruises and lighter-toned scars of old and new alike.

All of them, so attractive.

“Told you I was gonna make you understand.”

You don’t hear him. Not really. Your focus narrows solely on the figure of Leon looming just ahead like an incubus haunting your dreams. The sight of his glistening, pre-dripping cock the object of your attention, instilling a hunger within you that eclipses any concerns or inhibitions that might have lingered within your mind.

"And you don't even seem close to it yet.”

However, your desperate desire overpowers any semblance of understanding at this point. The unadulterated need for him, for his stretch in you, consumes your thoughts, leaving little room for comprehension.

Suddenly, Leon's strong fingers encircle your ankles, and with an unforgiving yank, he pulls you closer, drawing you beneath him. He nibbles on your calves, smoothing your ankles, staring you down, so fucking hot and sexy, before the weight of his body covers yours, and you can feel the heat radiating from his skin, intensifying the expectation that drums inside.

The swollen tip of his cock hovers at the entrance of your slick folds, teasing the threshold of pleasure. You brace yourself, preparing for the inevitable penetration and the sweet stretch that will follow. Yet, it eludes you, leaving you uncomfortably longing for his deep, satisfying intrusion.

Driven by desperation, you roll your hips upward, searching for the angle that will guide him inside you. Confusion dances at the edges of your consciousness as you struggle to comprehend the delay, unable to understand why he hasn't already plunged into you, fulfilling the ache that pulsates within your body.

It seems like you’ve forgotten again what game he was playing with you.

“Want something, sweet girl?” Leon gazes down at you with the shadow of a smirk, reveling in your writhing form beneath him. It's evident that he takes pleasure in this power dynamic, flourishes in the control he holds over your desires. Fucking asshole. How long is this going to continue? “I'm listening.”

Panting and needy, you respond with an indistinct whimper. “Please.”

But Leon refuses to let you off the hook easily. His demand is clear. “Yeah?”

Fuck this guy. Oh god.

“Leon, please,” you can’t stop the tremor in your voice, both from desperation and the building fury.

“I hear you. Tell me what you need.”

So he could deny you it again?

The widened smirk on his face matches the wickedness in his voice, it's as if he celebrates the torment of restating your hunger all the way back up, taunting you. “I won't know if you don't tell me.”

As the words “You. You. I need you, Leon, I want you. Inside me, please.” emerge, your voice a delicate, unplanned balance of pleading and exasperation, Leon's eyes light up, gleaming with a potent blend of pride and an urgent hunger that surpasses mere desire.

The look that graces his face is captivating, drawing you deeper into the vortex of intimacy that swirls between you as Leon offers a husky, excited affirmation, “There’s my girl.”

Without hesitation, he surges forward, impaling you with his throbbing cock, and you’re gone, not even in your body anymore.

The initial glide of his length penetrating your depths transports you to a realm of unparalleled ecstasy. Waves of sweet, electrifying ache surge through your being, igniting pleasure that radiates along every nerve ending. Your thighs quiver and strain as they envelop his hips, nearly overcome by the torrent of blazing heat that overflows from your core. The stretch burns and stings so fucking good.

“Fuck,” you hiss, nails scraping red lines down his back. “Just like that, please, yes, so good. Move. Please move!”

Unable to contain the overwhelming pleasure coursing through your veins, your body instinctively presses up against Leon's, breasts crushed against his chest, shockwaves from your nipples shooting straight to the pool filling up in your stomach, responding to his presence without conscious effort.

Displaying his infuriating control, Leon allows you a brief moment to squirm around his cock, savoring the desperate feeling of connection, and stills.

Your hands instinctively find purchase on his shoulders, yearning to keep him close, to maintain the blissful fusion. A chaste kiss to the corner of your jaw follows.

And then, with a force that leaves you gasping, he withdraws almost entirely, threatening to sever the connection you crave and perhaps walk away again and you’re fucking terrified. Panic stirs within, and your hands tighten their grip on his shoulders, desperately clinging to the pleasure he provides, his warmth, his presence. You don’t even realize your breathing has gotten frantic.

His gentleness peeks through the blinds, a twinkle in the night. “It’s okay, it’s okay, calm down, you’re okay. I’m not going anywhere. Shit,” he curses, coming down to capture your lips in a consoling, soft tangle for the first time that day, and it almost erases all the shit he pulled on you today.

Almost.

Without warning, Leon thrusts himself back in with an intensity that makes your mind spin. The brain-melting, reason-flaying pleasure that ravishes you in that moment is so riveting, so overwhelmingly good, that your vision darkens, the world falling away. It's as if the very cosmos bear witness to the electrifying union, as you swear you see novas, their brilliance shimmering in your obscured sight.

With unyielding determination, Leon continues his relentless assault, driving himself into you with harsh, deep thrusts that leave you breathless. The pace is unforgiving, hard and fast, each movement becoming a seismic wave of pleasure that crashes through your entire being. The intense sensations cascade, spreading from deep within, coiling tightly around your being like a snake, tightening the knot of bliss that constricts with every stroke.

You can feel the peak of your orgasm building, a crescendo of pleasure on the precipice of eruption. In a desperate quest for completion, you arch your body, meeting each of his thrusts with an eagerness that borders on desperation.

He notices. Of course he does.

Leon's hips press deep into you, holding there in a maddening stillness. It's almost enough, a flick of your clit away, so close that you can taste it, imagine it.

He denies you.

Again.

It slips away like sand through your fingers, surfacing in an anguished sob that escapes your lips.

As tears stream down your face, they merge into fat blobs and flow in heavy currents, distorting your vision. The profound sense of loss tightens its grip on your body, overwhelming you to the point that you fear losing consciousness.

The intensity of everything building within you becomes a terrifying force, leaving you petrified of surrendering to it fully, as though it may make you disappear entirely. The trembling that envelopes you is no longer connected to pleasure; it is a tremor borne of fear and vulnerability.

Your body stiffens involuntarily, breaths coming in shallow and rapid puffs. The room spins around you, blurring into a chaotic mess. Your voice, shaky and filled with desperation, falters as you utter your safe word, the syllables escaping your lips like uncontrollable vomit. "Rookie...shit...rookie, I'm gonna pass out. No more. No more."

He’s out of you immediately, everything coming to a halt.

With genuine concern etched upon his face, Leon's voice pierces through the chaos, calling for you through the momentary ear ringing, but you can see his eyes now filled with compassion.

He’s back.

His strong arms wrap around you, providing a secure embrace as he takes in the depth of your distress. He holds your cheeks and checks on you,shaking you a bit he doesn’t get a response, and relaxes only when you nod, he leans in, peppering your tear-streaked face with soothing kisses, his tender gestures offering comfort and solace.

But your alarms rise that he might start again reflexively, and try to push him off, and he takes that hand in his, kissing your palm, your wrist, your fingers, slow and one by one, murmuring softly, tone tranquilizing. “No more, alright? No more. It’s over. You’re safe.”

Amidst the emotional turbulence, Leon's reassurance remains steadfast. "I got you. I got you, you're okay," he whispers softly, his voice a warm blanket enveloping you. His unyielding support gives you strength to navigate the overwhelming sensations that had consumed you moments ago. The affection, warmth against the ice you went through with him is so comforting. "You did so good, sweetheart. You were amazing. I’m so proud of you."

His praise resonates deep within, calming you down significantly, that his anger isn’t out to get you.

With a gentle touch, Leon encourages you to sit. He instinctively reaches for a glass of water on the side table, offering it to you with care. "Here, take a sip. It'll help," he murmurs, his tone filled with tenderness, communicating his desire to provide you with the necessary aftercare, allowing you to physically and emotionally recenter yourself.

Sitting behind you and taking you between his legs, Leon hugs you from behind, thick arms engulfing you in the safest of embraces, ensuring that you feel his presence as a steady support. His hands encircle your trembling shoulders, offering a reassuring hold. "Hold onto me. I'm right here," he murmurs, his voice a soothing melody amidst the residual chaos of your emotions.

He gets you to lean back against his chest, making you aware of how it puffs up and falls down. "Breathe with me, okay? C’mon, feel me breathe." His words act as a gentle guide, coaxing you toward a calmer state of being, unconsciously synchronizing your breaths with his. “There you go. Doing so well.”

The moment he feels you’re not digging your fingers into his forearm around your middle anymore, he whispers, “More water?”

Your throat is so dry. “Yes please.”

He doesn’t let you take the glass, bringing it to your lips himself insead. “Drink slow,” is a gentle order as your own hands wrap around the cup over his. “Anything you need? Bath? Shower?”

“I want to continue.”

“Are you sure?”

“I need to fucking come Leon, I can’t sleep today if you let me go like this.”

“Alright, okay. I did say anything you need. How do you want it?”

“Comfortable.”

“Wanna flip over? Here, hug these.” You’re handed a couple pillows to keep holding to prop your upper up a little, and he slips one underneath your hips, angling them in a comfortable position. “There. No need to lift your hips.”

You can just rest your head on the pillows like this, it’s designed to make you stay still. “You’ll lie on top of me?”

“I won’t crush you, don’t worry. Leave it to me. You can snooze a bit if you like.”

“Funny.”

Your eyes flutter closed as Leon lowers himself onto you, his weight pressing down on your lower half. He's careful not to push too hard or hurt you in any way. Instead, he holds himself above you, giving you space to breathe and relax. You feel his warmth emanating from him, the moisture of his breath fanning your nape, as he slowly settles over your body, making himself as close to you as possible. It's an intimate act that makes you flush with embarrassment, but you find yourself enjoying how secure and safe it makes you feel, the whole body pressing down on you is delectable, like some weighted blanket. You mewl into the pillows as he slips his cock in, not punishingly languid and calculated this time, but slow, gentle, and sweet.

“Comfortable?”

“Hmm,” you exhale.

As Leon begins to move inside you, you take a deep breath and hold tightly to the pillow beneath your cheek. His movements are deliberate and measured, not harsh not to toss you up the bed, each stroke sending waves through your entire body. You can feel your muscles being kneaded with desire as he works his magic between your legs.

"This feels so good," you hum, craning your neck as best as you can to try maintaining eye contact with him, to see how he’s doing.

Leon is holding back.

You hear a deep rumble coming from him, almost like a purring sound as he rolls his hips into you like gentle sea waves hitting the shore, you can feel him getting harder and swell inside, pulsing. His fingers gently caress your skin, tracing lines across your arms and shoulders before coming to sneak underneath your torso and loosely cup your throat. Slowly, he begins kissing and nibbling on the sensitive area behind your earlobe, sending shivers through your entire body. In response, you arch your back slightly, pushing against him in search of something you barely understand yet desperately crave, feeling the way the plane of his stomach spasms in rhythm with his thrusts.

Leon grasps your waist firmly, pulling you impossibly closer to him, rubbing himself along your curves until your whole body sings with sensation. This is it. This is nice, warm, rolling like ribbons of thick caramel. All at once, you feel like you are drowning in a syrup of desire and sweetness that seems impossible to escape. And yet, somehow, you never want out. For now, right here and nowhere else, all that matters is the soft touch of Leon's hand over yours, fingers lacing with your own, guiding you deeper into a world where only he exists.

“Feel like sleeping yet?”

“As if you ever let me sleep…” Can anyone be fucked into sleep when every single cell is alerted to this degree?

The hand around your throat travels up a little to tip your head back so the crown of your head can rest on his shoulder and he has better access to mark up your neck “Still wanna come, sweet girl?” He nips at the path along your jaw. “Be nicer to me.”

There’s no space left between you and the bed from his weight for him to stimulate your clit, so Leon goes for a position change, making you sigh in disappointment as he slips out of you for the moment.

Your heart leaps at how he combs his damp hair. He looks like a completely different person when his hair is slicked back, and it stays that way because of how wet the strands are from sweat.

Taking charge, Leon gets you to lie on your back, positioning your body in a way that maximizes comfort and intimacy. He gently guides one of your legs to extend straight while bending the other at the knee, lifting it up for ease of access. With careful precision, he positions himself alongside you, lying on his side.

Drawing you closer, he slips his hand under your head, creating a makeshift pillow of support. His arm bends at the elbow, allowing his hand to rest on your breast, his touch gentle and attentive. The warmth of his body pressed against yours generates a sense of security and closeness, and you can reach to cling to his nape and kiss him like this.

His other hand finds its place on the thigh of your bent leg, providing stability and further fostering a sense of connection. His left leg aligns itself along the length of your extended leg, while his right leg is carefully positioned, pushed in between your lifted leg, cock nestled against your pussy, his hips restless, grinding against you.

“Ready?”

He actually lets you grind back, and you can cry from relief. “Yeah.”

“I’ll go slow.”

“Just make me come, please.”

As he releases his hold on your breast, his hand rises to gently tip your chin, guiding your focus back to him. His warm lips meet yours in a languid, passionate kiss, expressing the depth of his desire. Slowly and deliberately, he eases himself into you, letting you feel every inch of his girth and length. The sensations overwhelm you, and your moan mingles with his as pleasure blossoms between you.

His little whiny grunt does something to the ache in your stomach. “Doesn’t feel great to be left hanging, does it?”

“No, no, fuck," You're refusing, but a roll of his hips manage to hit a good spot inside you, and the thought is an aborted prompt in your head. "Yeah, right there…” You open your eyes to find him drinking your bliss in, and remember what you were going to say. “I’m sorry, ah, god, I’m so sorry.” You manage between gasps and moans, your vulnerability and remorse mingling with the intense pleasure. “I was just drunk and I didn’t want to talk—”

In the heat of the moment, Leon's hand skillfully navigates your body, moving downward to the sensitive area where you're connected. His touch expertly pulls up the hood of your clit, allowing his middle finger to press against it with unwavering pressure, all the while continuing his thrusts into your wetness. His question suggests he'll only move if he gets the answer he wants from you. "Will you do that to me again?"

Your hands fly to his forearm, an instinctive response to keep him exactly where he is, lost in the throes of pleasure. "No. No, never, never again," you assert, begging.

With a hint of satisfaction, Leon acknowledges your response, affirming your words with admiration. "Yeah? What will you do, then?" he groans, low and needy. The electricity between you lingers in the air, everything reeks of sex, humid and hot, charged with a sense of possessiveness and mutual longing.

Leaning into the pleasure coursing through your body, you find it difficult to form coherent words, but manage to respond. "Gonna answer all your calls," Your gasp cracks with a particularly strong thrust. "Stay saf-e!"

With his fingers still expertly circling your sensitive, hardened nub, fulfilling your desires, spoiling you with what you need, Leon finally gives in to his own need. He devours your lips in desperate, sloppy kisses, immersing you in the chaos of passion. Breathless and lost in a haze of pleasure, he shares fragmented sentences in between the urgent connection of your mouths. The mingling of your sighs and gasps intertwines. "Just need you to be safe," he murmurs, his voice filled with a mix of desperation and longing. "Need to know you're okay. Don't leave me out like that — don't — fuck, fuck, fuck!" He bites back a grunt that threatens to become a high-pitched moan. You feel him shudder. "You take it so well, so fucking perfect for me," he downright growls. “Shit, I’m close.”

“Almost there, almost, don’t fucking stop, please!”

His voice, accompanied by rapid panting, is raw and husky. “I’m right here sweet girl. Come for me. You need it, don’t you? You’ve been dying for it all night. Break. Come all over my cock. Give it to me—ah god!”

The overwhelming intensity of the moment makes it impossible for you to form coherent words in response. Instead, hold onto him for an anchor in this hurricane as every fiber of your being vibrates, coming close to something, rising, close, close—.

When release finally washes over you, it's a torrential wave that transcends your wildest expectations. The pleasure explodes, the light shining first and the sound spilling forth afterwards, blasting your senses in a cacophony of rippling ecstasy. The experience is chaotic and overwhelming, all the more devastating from having been built up for so long.

As the waves of pleasure ebb and flow through your body, you wait for a moment of respite, hoping that the intensity will gradually subside. However, to your surprise, Leon's rocking maintains the pace, pushing deep into you without slowing down. Your attempts to get away from the overstimulation is vain, as the intensity only escalates. Pleasure intertwines with a sense of urgency and biting, sensitive ache, leaving you unable to catch your breath, unable to control the uninhibited and primal sounds escaping from your lips.

The fullness takes on a new dimension. The line blurs between whether this is a second orgasm or if your initial release has never truly ceased. The pleasure is heightened, potent, whetted, cutting, and you’re lost in the abyss of ecstasy that keeps dragging you down, you’re convulsing around his length uncontrollably.

In this overwhelming state of sensory overload, you cry out Leon's name, mingling with whimpers and moans, meanwhile, undeterred by your sensitivity, Leon relentlessly continues with his powerful strokes, chasing his own peak, ending up making you slide toward the edge of the bed with one final, powerful ram, then he bursts into you, his shout strangled, and it feels as if the moment stretches out indefinitely, his body winded like taut wire and heaving beside you, release seemingly endless, shuddering gasps rattling his ribcage.

After what feels like an eternity, Leon finally stills, his body collapsing. And he pulls you into a hug with post-orgasmic trembling hands, and breathes into your hair as you bask in the afterglow.

Leon's affectionate gesture leaves a path of mellowness in its wake, and you find yourself leaning into the softness of the moment. His lips part from yours, but instead of pulling away abruptly, he lingers for a moment, his breath mingling with yours. “I’ll be right back.” And this time, when he pulls away, it’s not anxiety-inducing that he’ll leave you hanging, and you can relax.

As you lie there, wrapped in the comforting cocoon of warmth and post-coital heaven, the world around you blurs and fades at the edges, you can’t keep your eyes open to wait for Leon, but keep fighting the pull of sleep as it gently tugs at your consciousness. Every fiber of your being craves the soothing embrace of slumber, and you end up surrendering to the honeyed drowsiness.

A gentle blink and Leon is there again, his caring eyes fixed upon you, looking so, so young. In his hands, he holds a warm, damp towel, and you watch with a mix of admiration and affection as he moves with fluid grace to gently wipe you down. His hands look like they’ve been made to handle stranger violences, but they are tamed for you. With every tender stroke, he murmurs quiet praise and affection, his voice a soft caress that wraps around you like a warm blanket, and you drift off listening to the velvet smoothness.

You begin to stir, not knowing how much time has passed, slowly awakening from your deep sleep, when you become aware of gentle movements and moving about nearby. As you open your eyes and rub the lethargy away, you find the door of the bathroom that adjoins your bedroom open, the aroma of fragrant bath oils filling the air. The soft glow of candles casts flickering shadows that are visible from where you are, creating a serene ambiance that envelops you.

Leon comes into view, standing by the bathtub, somehow able to tell right away you woke up, a caring smile playing on his lips. He has taken the time to prepare a luxurious bath for you, filling the tub with warm water and adding petals that float delicately on the surface. The room is filled with a sense of tranquility as he pours some scented bath oils and swirls them into the water, their fragrance enveloping the space.

“You’re up. Morning, night owl. Rest well?” As Leon strides toward you with a towel hanging from his hips, the steam from the bath clings to his glistening, bare upper body. Your eyes instinctively drink in the sight of him, as if they can never grow accustomed to the sheer beauty in front of you. His presence is a work of art, his form seemingly sculpted from the smoothest marble, exuding an aura of strength and grace.

You sit up, the soreness pulling at your muscles, vagina basically weeping with ache. A good kind. “I slept like a log. I wish I never woke up, though. Ouch.”

There’s nothing apologetic in his hoarse laugh.

Your gaze roams his physique, appreciating every chiseled detail, never tiring of the sight. The way his biceps bulge in the sleeves of his clothing, or the way the fabric stretches over the expanse of his chest, captivates your attention endlessly.

“Prepared you a bath.” Gently, he extends his hand, inviting you to join him in the soothing embrace of the tub. “Hopefully that’ll help. Need a ride?”

You allow him to princess carry you, blushing like a schoolgirl, feeling the warm water caress your skin as he lowers you into its embrace. The groan that comes out of you is sinful.

Leon unravels the towel around his hips and slips right behind you, legs bracketing yours, careful your lower half doesn’t touch his but you can lean back to his chest, presence exuding a sense of serenity and comfort. Leaning against the smooth tub's edge, he reaches out with tenderness, slowly taking a washcloth and soaping it up. With delicate motions, he begins to wash your body above the water, his touch almost lulling you to sleep once more..

He breaks the silence, planting a kiss at the crown of your head. "This feels nice, doesn't it?" he murmurs, his words carrying a warmth that matches the water surrounding you.

You nod, relishing in the intimate connection forged by this simple act of tenderness. "Yes, it does," you reply softly, gratitude filling your voice. “Thank you, Leon.”

He hums in response. You can feel the soft smile on his lips when he presses a delicate kiss against the nape of your neck, leaving a lingering warmth that resonates through your entire being.

You don’t know what the hell this is.

But you want all of it.

“Ashley isn’t like you to me.”

God, you could evaporate from shame and make the water boil over. He remembers you going off on him because of that. Oh no.

His chin rests atop your head, drawing you closer. “I was tasked to save her when she was kidnapped—”

“Hold. Hold.” You twist around to look at him, the water around you rippling, petals swimming. “What do you mean you were tasked to?”

He answers like it’s a road trip for a festival to the next state. “I was sent to Spain for that. On a mission.”

“Mission.” You’re searching for any sign of being fucked with. Leon looks weary all of a sudden, jaded, zoning off, it’s like the circles under his eyes deepen to show you. “Like. An agent?”

“Uh-huh.”

“You’re an agent? Like a federal agent or a secret agent?”

“A special one.”

“Oh, fuck.” The pieces fall into place. His skilfulness in fighting, his built body, the scars and bruises renewed between absences, the inability to relax and just be in crowds. The White House. PTSD. Nightmares. You had an inkling. Just thought he was a bodyguard with an obvious military background, though. Never would have thought it went as deep as this. You sink a bit into the water. “So that was it.”

He gets you to lean on him again, wrapping his arms around you, perhaps, seeking comfort.

He’s spilling all the beans, there’s no reason not to probe further, albeit with care for what would be a sensitive topic for him. “So she was kidnapped?”

One arm draped under your arm, coming up to hold onto your shoulder, Leon’s fingers begin tracing shapes into your skin, his other elbow is propped up against the side of the tub, wrist resting on his bent knee. “Yeah.”

“They sent you? What, like some one man army superhero?” His chest lowly rumbles with a laugh. “Oh my god, you’re serious? That’s what you do?”

“You knew before you came to me.”

“I had theories, but… Spy stuff? For real?”

He hesitates before answering, forehead nestling on your shoulder and nuzzling. “Not spy stuff. I work with bioterrorism.”

Your mind is rapidly trying to generate information and remember global events. “Bioterrorism… Like. Like, in Terragrigia? Monsters? Zombies?”

“And those who make them,” he says, matter-of-factly.

“Oh, damn… That sounds tough… I’m sorry.” You have no idea whatsoever how to respond to that. It’s so heavy that it hangs heavier than the steam in the bathroom, and he sounds thoroughly spent just by talking about it —

“Don’t be. I’m trained for it.”

But he still gets hurt. You see him hurt all the damn time. Miserable and sleepless and depressed.

“Stop getting sad, please?” Leon kisses your neck, adoring, damp hair making you ticklish. “I promise, it’s all fine.”

You can’t stop thinking about it. And you just heard of this now. You’ll never be able to sleep sound the way you did oblivious to the world ever again. “It’s not fine.”

“I’m a big boy. I can handle it.”

“You fight monsters. How can you say that? I know it’s wearing you down—”

You can’t see his face, but know he’s smiling to reassure you despite the fact. Tired. Tired. “That’s just how it is. Every field comes with its baggage. I’m okay. I have you.”

Oh, that’s… That’s big, actually. Your face heats up. Saying that is nothing to him, but hearing it is enough to make you jittery.

You allow your logic to carry you to the blatant conclusion to get away from the feeling, playing with one particular petal in your grasp. “All of that is confidential, I assume.”

Water sloshes around as he bends his other knee up as well. “Very. That’s why they got rid of that one guy who came after Operation Javier.”

Your movements still. He’s talking about the senior you’ve looked up to and came across the legacy of after his suicide.

A shiver shakes you. Leon hugs you tighter. It was suicide.

Suicide.

Got rid of?

They killed him? The government?

“Does… does that mean, if I—”

He’s short in his answer, like he doesn’t want to talk about this out of all things he’s revealed. “Yes.”

Your first encounter with Leon replays in your head. It was in a playful and straightforward meaning you’d taken the, ‘You know how this ends’ icebreaker, he was fucking talking about being offed? “So, you saved me?”

His answer is more unsettling. “I helped reroute you.”

All this time, his subtle meddling and intervening to guide your attention to other fields were to keep you from getting killed and not out of flirtily invested interest?

Oh, god.

“You saved me. I could have died.”

He’s not particularly grateful to receive your thanks. “You’re welcome.”

You’re still imagining things. All the ways they could have set up a self-inflicted death on you. You push out a whooping sigh. “Holy shit—”

“Hey. I wouldn’t let anything happen to you.” His hold is grounding and safe, and he means what he says, talking like some goddamned hero and you actually feel somewhat okay. “Nobody knows you were looking into it.”

“No found hanging at home headlines for me… Yay…”

He tilts your head to stare you in the eye, the intense, determined look eliciting butterflies in your tummy. “Don’t be scared. Seriously, I’m here. You have nothing to worry about. I’ll protect you.”

You blurt the first thing that comes to mind. “Like Ashley?”

Leon kisses the tip of your nose. “I don’t think of her in the way you think I do. We’re not like that.”

You’re positive you can’t hide the way you perk up at that. “Would have been crappy of you to ask me for dinner if you were.”

He’s supposed to laugh at you, but it doesn’t come. “Yeah. Dinner…” There’s a brief silence. “So, when do we go?”

He has some absurd, untimely, irrelevant responses to things sometimes.

“We’re talking about dinner, really? I just confirmed you were a monster-fighting super agent and two whole years suddenly make sense and you’re talking to me about dinner?”

“...Do you want to go or not?”

“I want Indian food.”

v. With coffee cups in hand, the warmth of the beverages provides a welcome contrast to the cool morning air, and you and Leon stroll along the sidewalks, enjoying the chorus of chirping birds. The city is still relatively quiet, with only a few passersby hurrying along, and you cling to the serenity of the moment shared with him. You don’t expect Leon to surprise you with a steaming cup of coffee after leaving you alone for a few minutes, the aroma of roasted beans wafting up to your senses. "Here, your favorite," he says, handing you the cup.

"Thanks," you say, taking a sip of your coffee, which is sweetened and creamed to your liking.

Leon, however, raises an eyebrow playfully. "Sweet as dessert, huh?" he teases.

You grin, knowing that he prefers his coffee black and strong. "Well, I like a little sweetness in my mornings."

“Poor choice in companion today, then.”

“Oh, shut up,” you grimace while smiling, hitting him lightly on the side.

The aroma of freshly brewed coffee mingles with the crisp scent of the city, creating a comforting ambiance, and as you sip on your morning coffee, you relish the warmth of the cup in your hands and Leon's presence next to you. He is still wrinkling his nose at your choice of drink but silently enjoying the simple pleasure of walking together in the early morning light. The quiet intimacy between you two feels cozy, and you are almost tempted to reach for his hand, but something holds you back. The moment feels delicate, and you don't want to disturb the magic that surrounds you, wary of him still.

As you reach the metro station, the automated announcement chimes, indicating that the next train is about to arrive. You quickly finish your coffee, savoring the last sweet sips, while Leon looks on with amusement-hid fondness.

"Just in time," he says, glancing at the approaching train, deeply contemplating something, the wind coming from the train making his blond hair dance in the air.

The station is still relatively empty, with only a few early risers waiting for the train. You hug Leon tightly, not wanting the morning to end just yet, well aware you’re giving him mixed signals.

But this time, it’s different. This time, you know he wants this.

"I had a great time," you whisper, looking into his eyes.

His e cups your cheek, thumb gliding over your cheekbone. "Me too."

He is thinking again, staring at you in that kind of way, and his gaze shifts to your mouth, Adam’s apple bobbing. You step inside the train, and share awkward waves with him despite being an arm’s reach from each other.

About ten seconds before the doors begin to close, Leon leans in, capturing your lips in a tender, lingering kiss, licking outside your lips. Your heart misses a beat, the surroundings fading into the background as the moment feels suspended in time. “Too sweet. As expected.”

So he just wanted to taste your coffee—?

Then, with a soft yet confident voice, he says, "I love you. Have a nice day," barely audible over the train's announcements.

You freeze.

Huh?

But before you can respond, the doors close shut, leaving you dumbly staring at him smiling beautifully through the glass, and the metro lurches forward, leaving you shell-shocked, heart pounding, and narrowly able to keep your balance. You clutch a pole nearby for support, your mind reeling with the revelation that has just unfolded, the bombshell he’s just dropped on you.

As the metro picks up speed, you press your hand to your lips, still tingling from the unexpected kiss — from the confession.

His frame is getting smaller, his face giving way to something vulnerable as he watches you quickly drift away with the train, as if he has just set free a piece of himself he had kept guarded for so long.

Too sweet. As expected.

He was! He was—!

You remember the words of the lady in red just then. Think about it carefully. How do you want this to end?

Fuck.

Happy.

You want it to be happy.

#leon kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy x reader #leon s. kennedy x reader #leon kennedy fanfic #leon kennedy smut

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fillinforlater · 8 months

Text

Paradise

Male Reader x Kim Gaeul

Length: 4646 words

Tags: non-smut, story heavy drama, angsty, best friends, young love, looking for paradise

TW: to avoid spoilers, assume all trigger warning apply (I promise nothing sexual!)

Inspiration: "Paradise" by Coldplay (I love that song. Others have inspired me as well e.g. "Clocks" but this is THE one).

(A/N: Happy Anniversary to me <3 fricking 2 years since y'all had to read my first fic. Thanks for all the support! Enjoy this fic that means a lot to me. @firagaarmor, this ones for you too!)

“Can you tell me what paradise is?”

You raise your eyes over the sharp edge of your book, your mind still lost in the adventures of a young sailor, trying to make a name for himself and fighting with the deadly, dark blue sea and the temptation of strong liquor. He’s a brave man, firmly gripping the loose end of a rope to hold the sail steady while a thunderstorm makes his life seem defenseless, fragile, miniscule. The book is too tense, too captivating to stop now!

But then you continue to look past all the letters on old, yellowed paper, straight to her face. Feel her strong gaze grab you and freeze you in place with nothing but softness and innocence. Suddenly, the meaning these words had on you evaporates; the capturing story is nothing but a hallucination you experience while staring at them. You are not hallucinating now. She is here, she is real—and she is absolutely gorgeous.

“Paradise?” you sum up her question in a rather uncertain whisper, Gaeul nods nonetheless.

“Yes!” her eyes beam with thrill and she closes the gap between you and her on the couch. Usually, the two of you leave some space on the worn-out, white sofa, with you reading in one corner and Gaeul resting in the other. It’s rare for her to be this close; it makes you trip up and drop the book on your chest. “Tell me all about it.”

“Well it’s… simple, yet also very complex, you know?” You scratch the back of your head and avoid her face. Straight brown hair frames her soft features, puts a stark contrast between dark beauty and pale beauty, while every nook and cranny on it is just flawlessly carved—you’re red now.

“You need to tell me everything!” Gaeul insists.

“F-fine. Paradise is the place that we go to after we die. We of course don’t know if it’s real or not or if we have to do something or believe something to get in it. Maybe it’s guarded by angels, gods or titans! Maybe it’s just something we tell ourselves to feel better about what death might be: just nothingness. Sometimes people imagine heaven to be this overwhelmingly marvelous forest, where everything is in harmony. Sometimes they see it as a golden gate with everything perfect and beautiful behind it. Sometimes people just call some place on earth paradise.”

“Why?” Gaeul asks, her ears twitching but not really twitching. She is just excited to listen to you, probably. “Where is this place?”

“Well, uhm,” you mutter and scratch harder. Surely you’ll find an answer that will satisfy her. “I think you need to find this place yourself. Like I said, everyone thinks paradise is something different.”

Gaeul nods with the eagerness and naivety of a child. She still possesses this deeply rooted innocence, this greed for knowledge and finding new things. All these years of school could not squeeze it out of her, no belittling, no bullying, nothing can break her spirit. You adore her for it, you envy her for it.

“Paradise,” she says and returns to her original position. “Paradise, paradise.”

She smiles.

“I want to see it with you.”

Gaeul and you are stuck to each other like glue. God put this glue on you from the very beginning. Gaeul was born seventeen days after you, in the same hospital, and grew up in the same street, in the same town as you. You’d always meet her at the playground and from wordlessly playing with her in the sand to fighting and hating her, you felt every emotion towards her every day for all those long kindergarten days.

In school, it was more or less the same. Other people were always interesting for Gaeul, but she kept them at a distance, unlike you, who she never ignored or turned down. You were a bit more difficult back then, frankly, the teasing from the other boys about her was annoying, but you got over it the day you found out she liked the same songs.

“Seventeen?” she chirped when you mentioned their debut track. “You like Seventeen?”

“Well, yes. This song sounds very… nice,” you whispered, phone in hand, eyes on the pavement.

“Do you know all their names?”

“Ha, no way! There is like so many of them.”

Gaeul grins and grabs your hand. Triumphantly, she announces: “I know all of them, all thirteen! I guess I’m smarter than you!”

“Pah, I-I was born seventeen days before you. I’m older and I’m smarter!”

“No~”

The bickering made you bond, while the fantastic songs of Seventeen drowned out all foreign criticism. You found more and more things to like and dislike about each other, which made every day spent together worth it. Be it playing games together, preparing food (let’s be honest, you mostly just tried mixing random ingredients and had her mom save it in the end) or just chilling on the couch—it never got boring.

It was about a year ago when you noticed that she had these long phases where she just did nothing. Her small body was positioned on the couch, always the same way on the same spot, and then she would look into nothingness. You wanted to tease her for it, for being a daydreamer, someone who spaces out and drools while doing it, yet you stopped.

She is so pretty.

You admired her. There was no drool, no dumb, mindless dreaminess in her eyes. She was in her own world, thinking of something so incredible, it made her beam with life. Her eyes were like orbs, set ablaze by golden light. Movies could never get her attention and admiration for this long—movies could never get your attention and admiration for this long. You were the one staring, you were the one drooling over how everything about her is just so flawless—you still do.

This was the day you noticed you liked her.

Seventeen days later came the day she asked about paradise.

That was the day she stole your heart.

…

Today is the day a cruel devil came to smash it into pieces.

Being friends with Gaeul for almost twenty years, it is only natural that her parents would inform you as soon as possible. You dropped your phone as the words left the speaker, it’s smashing on the floor goes unnoticed by you. Seconds later, you’re already on the street, on the run, straight to her parents’ house. You didn’t need to ring, her father wordlessly held the door open and pointed to her room.

She sits on her bed, her lower body tugged in a blanket, her back against the wall, her eyes… shut. You look at her mother, a mess of tears and snot; it’s not yet on her face but the moment she looks at you it, the dams break. Her knees unstable, she walks out of the room into her husband's arms.

“Gaeul, I—”

You look at her again. Her eyes are open, focused on the opposing wall, the sparkle of life, wonder, joy still strong, but it’s slowly getting drowned in this puddle of tears that glisten in them, a stain on her that you can’t bear to see. So you kneel down, reach for her hand and watch her leave whatever world she tried to escape into.

“Gaeul, I-I’m sorry,” you stammer out, your hands the ones shivering more, though you’d love to think that you’re strong and she is the one folding.

“It’s not your fault, dumbo,” she semi-laughs, semi-sighs. Then she rasps: “Nothing you can do about it.”

“I-I know… and I hate it.”

Silence. You look at her chest, slowly heaving up and down in a rhythmic cycle, gently increasing when you squeeze her hand and she looks down on it. Gaeul cracks a small smile, a smile so full of pain, every second you look at it is sending daggers to your chest.

Rage is building up inside you. Feel it creep up every limb, every toe, every finger, up to your head where you imagine the cruelest things you could do to the devil or deity who let this happen, no, who made this happen. They are a devil, and you will go down into the depths of hell to make them suffer for eternity.

How could they do this to her? What did she do? She doesn’t deserve this!

And you don’t deserve this either. What did you do, to see pain and horror like this? What did you do to hold a warm hand soon to be cold? What did you do, to see the love of your life become nothing but ash and dust, buried somewhere in the ground, forgotten in two generations, a life too short, too cruel to even call it that?

I’ll—

“Do you remember,” Gaeul suddenly asks, her voice soft and calming, like the wonderful, nostalgic wife you never had, you never will have. “The day I asked you about paradise?”

“Of course I do!” you blurt out, voice a bit hoarse. You could never forget the day you fell in love with her.

“You said that people can find paradise here on earth,” Gaeul starts. “I know I should probably go look for it myself but… can you go with me and show me paradise?”

The tears she held back in her eyes must have found their way to yours. Your vision is all blurry, your voice barely registers, but you are certain she hears you and knows what you're saying. You would never let her down, and in this moment, no feeling could be stronger.

“Of course, Gaeul. A-anything for you.”

You have only heard of cancer from these dramatic movies that people watch and then cry. Maybe somewhere in the news or a documentary, but then it was usually older people, not young and youthful spirits—those who don't think that a tragedy is right around the corner, waiting to rip apart their bodies, souls but first of all, their dreams.

Gaeul’s condition got worse rapidly. For the first two weeks, Gaeul’s mom would call you every other night because something seemed to be up. She was throwing up, had a high fever, the doctor was late, she didn’t respond—some of them were clearly only in the head of Gaeul’s mother who started to smoke again, the butts of cigarettes soon littering the tiled kitchen floor.

You’re not at all better though. Every time the phone rang, you ran over to her; throughout all other seconds of the day, you were frozen in place. Like a puppet, you sat on your bed, blankly staring at the wall and into nothing. Your body is perfectly fine, nothing hurts or is out of place yet everything feels agonizing in its meaninglessness.

You can’t even light up this tiny, simmering flame you always see in Gaeul’s eyes when you enter her room. It has not faded, no tears, no vomit, no painful breaths, nothing has put it out. It’s remarkable, beautiful, it’s the only thing that rids you of your agony for a moment.

When she was just a girl, Gaeul expected the world to tell her everything, to the minutest of details to the broadest of concepts. She sucked it all up like a sponge and let the mechanisms in her small, pretty head work with it for hours. Now it’s about to fly away from her reach in a cruel race where the world might only be jogging, but Gaeul legs are literally withering away under her tiny weight.

Yet you see the dreams in her eyes. She will not relent until she has—

Paradise.

Not even past the door frame, you drop the backpack to the ground. Gaeul jumps a bit and smiles at you in confusion. Your expression must be bewildering, funny, but she has no idea with what conviction your heart is finally urging your stupid brain to get going.

“Hey, what’s up? You alright?” she asks.

“Gaeul.” You reach for her hand, down on your knees to be level with the small, bedridden girl. “I’m going to look for it.”

“Hm? What do you mean?”

“I will look for it and find it! A-and then, I’m going to take you there, I promise!”

Gaeul looks at you funny, her free hand pushing away your torso in a playful gesture. A coughing fit interrupts her initial chuckle. “You’re playing around, talking weird stuff. But it’s funny.”

“No, I mean it—

“Paradise, Gaeul, I’m going to look for it—and I will find it for you.”

“Really?”

Really?

Early in the morning, the sky is still more dark, navy blue than anything else, you stuff whatever you might need into your backpack. Long forgotten and unnecessary are those school books and pens; you’ve not lost a thought about that in weeks. Frantically, you replace them with snacks, some water bottles, a map, a book, a phone, a towel, a shovel and a pocket knife. No dehydration, no getting lost, no boredom will prevent you from undertaking a journey to—

Where to, you wonder. The compass on your phone points in directions, probably the right ones, but it’s meaningless, useless. The correct route to paradise has to come from your heart. Your heart has already embedded its needle in the magnetic field that is Gaeul, now all you need to do is feel in which direction it points.

On the calm streets of this town you walk, along pretty houses which were always the start to all of yours and Gaeul’s games and adventures. It never ended here however. The two of you were always drawn to what's beyond the tarmac, the stones, the plastic. It all changes, quickly blurs to a mix of brown and green, every color in between, on this spectrum. On the soft soil of the forest underneath your feet, mixed with crunchy leaves and crunchier twigs, your adventure continues.

You might be closer, but this is definitely not yet paradise. Beautiful, but you can find it elsewhere equally as beautiful. Without second thoughts, you march on, deeper into the woods towards the pull. Gaeul’s magnetic field has this tendency to swirl off the main road. Suddenly, you find yourself in between thick bushes and young trees that make walking through them quite challenging.

Some plants wrap themselves around you like vines trying to hold you back. Slash them with the knife, bite into an apple and don’t stop for nothing. Soon, you find parts of the forest completely unbeknownst to you. The green looks darker, sunlight is a bit sparse and more animals run through your field of view. Bird, mice, dear, they all seem to look at you and when you hush and look back, it’s—

Peaceful. A piece of heaven, of paradise?

Though this spot may fill you with wonder and calm your heart, it's not yet paradise. It's all fleeting; the animals jump at your first motion, all it takes is a single cloud blocking the sun and its soft, faint rays are gone as well. You have to move onwards, past the mushrooms and moss, the deepest you have ever been in this forest.

Thousands of steps later, the dryness in your throat and the hole in your stomach force you to take a break. In midst all the tall, blooming trees you find a patch of grass, a glade, untouched by man. A perfect resting spot for the wild life, unbothered, untouched beauty. You feel a bit out of place, but you won't deny that it's a privilege to just sit down and take a breather.

You quickly down sandwiches and the water, realizing that both are not enough to quench your hunger and thirst. The sun is barely visible from here—how long has your adventure lasted until now? At some point you need to turn around, find your way back; thank God for phones and Google Maps, otherwise you'd be lost forever.

Amongst all of nature's sounds, you suddenly hear the splattering of water, probably in a small creek nearby. You grab your things and move closer to the source. The splattering gets louder and louder, oh, what you would give for the water to be clean and drinkable.

Uneven terrain and bushes block your way, but you can see the sun bursting through small gaps in between branches. You find an angle, with less thorns and stinging nettles and cut your way through it. Feel your heart throb in excitement, even when nature tries to resist you. There is something behind this, and now you are free to—

Close your eyes, because this cannot be real.

A picture before you, beautiful drawn, everything perfectly decorated, yet it cannot explain the stunningness of the sight before you. A wide open cliff gives you a perfect view of the entire forest and the lake in its middle. To your left, the outskirts of the city, only a couple of streets with both a school and hospital in sight. To your right a miniscule waterfall, fueled by the aforementioned creek. Everything is overstimulating, yet absolutely coherent in both its vibrantness and peacefulness.

Best of all, above a small rock overhang along this cliff, a pair of butterflies seem to happily dance around each other, blissfully unaware of the steep fall below them. No, they just love each other. Both swing their colorful wings to their own rhythm, not caring if someone sees, not allowing anyone to disturb them.

You carefully step towards their overhang, take a look down and see that it might be a dangerous fall, but you don’t feel any danger in this place. It is cozy, relaxing and quiet. There is nothing to fear, not even boredom. There is unlimited adventure and excitement amongst these gigantic trees, they embrace you with their twigs and tuck you in with their leaves. You can stay here for eternity, in fact you almost want to.

But not without Gaeul.

“I think I found it,” you’ll tell her. “I think I found paradise.”

“Gaeul is in the hospital.”

Your mothers first words when you return from your trip. The strain on your muscles, your back, your hands; they fade into the background the moment you realize what might be happening.

“What, why?”

“Her health has been… rapidly declining the last two days,” your mother says and urges you to sit down. You do not. “At some point, I could hear her scream from across the street, she… she has to be in so much pain.”

“A-and then?” You can barely stand standing around and not being by her side.

“They came like two hours ago, took her to the lake-side hospital. Her mother is—”

“I’m going there,” you say, drop your backpack and turn on your heels. Your mother sighs, deeper than ever. There is tears and misery in her eyes.

“I… don’t want you to go. You shouldn’t see this.”

“Mum, I will go. Why would you stop me? I need to be there; I can’t leave her now!”

Your mother stands up. You watch her reach for a cup of tea and drink the entire thing. Maybe it wasn’t tea. Maybe she needed some strength right now. This strong woman has never looked so vulnerable to you. She reaches for your hand.

“Okay… I’ll drive you.”

“You came,” Gaeul whispers, her voice hoarse, her eyes puffy, her skin pale. Well, she has always been quite the pale girl, but now her skin is rivaling snow in terms of whiteness. You push away a doctor and a relative or two and reach for one of Gaeul’s fragile hands.

“Of course I did. I’m never not there.” You smile.

“There you go, saying silly things again.” Gaeul smiles.

This is where you lose yourself in her eyes, those deep brown marbles, like bitter yet sweet chocolate—fitting to the overall mood in this hospital room. While you continue to stare into Gaeul’s dreams, the people around you go through all those stages of grief in front of the doctors, their powerless deities. Denial in her fathers voice, anger in the way her mother grabs her brother, they are bargaining, well onto their way into depression.

But Gaeul is still right there. She is still breathing. She is still breathing, even after they all leave the room. You stay by her side, long after midnight and most of the time, you just listen to her breath. Weak and shallow, but enough to keep her going. Then it starts to rain.

“Did we play in the rain back then?” you ask, looking out through the window into the dark clouds and the impending torrential downpour.

“Once or twice for sure,” Gaeul responds. You feel her eyes in your neck. “We should have done it more often.”

“Yeah, but only when the rain is warm.” Caress her knuckles. Gaeul sighs.

“Then I could have seen paradise in the rain.”

Feel a rush of excitement run down your spine when you turn to her.

“Gaeul, I think I found it. I found paradise! It’s not far from here. Let’s go there tomorrow or the day after—”

“Y-you did?” Gaeul suddenly squeezes your wrist tightly. “Where is it?”

“Near the lake, secluded in the forest. It’s beautiful—I’ll show it to you.”

“C-can we go now… please?”

Your eyes widen, your breath quickens. Someone has a belt wrapped around your chest and gradually tightens it. It’s as if there is poison in the air draining your life. This can’t get to you—no, it cannot be true. All the dreadful thoughts, you push them to the side, though they sink into your heart like the pointiest of knives. In your turmoil, you forget to answer.

Gaeul props herself up and stretches her arms out.

“Take me there, please.

“I want to see it tonight.”

No matter how much your heart bleeds, you find a way to work. For your best friend, the childhood love, the—current love. You easily pick up the thin girl and she finds the strength to secure herself on your back. She is light and heartbreakingly weak. Everything falls on you now.

“I don’t know if I’m strong enough,” you hiss when you piggyback carry the girl out of the room and quietly sneak her out through the fire exit. “But I’ll try my best to be your hero, Gaeul.”

“Don’t be some hero from your book,” Gaeul whispers, her lips right on your earlobe. “Just be you, that’s cool enough already.”

The rain is worse than you expected. Thick droplets a plenty make all colors of the quite illuminated town blurr. You just know you have to run away from them, towards the forest. There the roof of leaves will protect you from getting more soaked—which is not possible. After only a hundred meters, both you and Gaeul are two human sponges, drenched in heavenly water.

“It’s warmer than I thought,” Gaeul croaks as you sprint down the final street where the trees finally start. “Let’s play in this rain.”

“S-sure,” you grunt through gritted teeth, your exhausted legs barely keeping you upright. At the first tree, you take a breather. “But let’s get to paradise first.”

“How long is it?”

“About a kilometer. Can you hold my phone?”

Gaeul grabs it, the faint light showing a messy hill with a hundred reasons to doubt that you can carry her up there. Worriedly, Gaeul clings onto you stronger than before.

“Isn’t this too steep?”

You smile and adjust Gaeul, the friend on your back and take away all of her doubts by marching onwards, into the mud. Soon your legs are all covered in the heavy mixture of dirt, leaves, twigs, a couple of bugs, some plastic—it’s almost impossible to lift your legs over the taller roots breaching through the ground.

“Sorry that you have to carry me,” Gaeul murmurs, her face sunken into your back. The wind whips above the trees, their tips shake and you get showered in pine needles. You pause for a second, then laugh.

“Look at this mess! Mother nature is really playing with us tonight.”

“I-I’m sorry, I can’t—”

You pull a couple of needles out of Gaeul’s short, muddy, messy hair. In the faint light of your phones’ lamp. She looks like a ghost with barely lit eyes. God, it hurts to see her like this… but you will never deny that she isn’t drop dead gorgeous. The flame in her eyes hasn’t faded yet either. No matter how much fucking water the clouds above you pour down, they burn and they burn into your heart.

“Gaeul,” you say with confidence and unbridled determination as you take the first step on your final surge up to paradise. “Don’t be sorry. Don’t be sad. We are almost there. Hold onto my shoulders and you’ll be fine.”

Gaeul quietly sniffles into your thoroughly wet t-shirt, only a few tears, yet each of them is like a waterfall and adds to the weight of the most water you have ever seen in your life. Not even the oceans can compare to whatever mother nature has decided to unleash onto this area. If this is what it takes to get Gaeul to heaven, you will swim through it.

Again and again, until the end of time. And then you’ll still do it.

A bush brushing over your bodies, its evil thornes piercing your skin. You don’t feel it. Your hand shelters Gaeul, before pushing away the final branches of a familiar oak tree. There it is. Your heart skips a beat. You sink to your knees.

“Hey! Hey, are you okay?” Gaeul shouts, then she looks ahead. In this exact moment, a miracle: a lightning bolt in the distance, bright and wide, hits a far away field. Everything is illuminated, the ridiculous beauty of paradise visible in the middle of the night—for your best friend to see.

“What do you think?” you ask, out of breath and smiling brightly, brighter than the lightning. Gaeul has gotten off of your back and her weak legs carry her towards the overhang. The visual is impeccable, epic on so many levels, it’s like the grand finale to the universe:

Gaeul, the love of your life, looking at her paradise. It should be impossible, but she stands there. What might her face look like right now? You don’t need to see it to know.

Suddenly, she turns back around and sinks down on the floor. You try to catch her. A second to late, all you can do is prop her back up, shake the collar of her hospital gown. Her eyes are barely open, her lips tremble. You hug her tightly, not caring about the mud below you.

“Gaeul… no!”

Lying underneath the stormy skies, the only thing holding her in this world are your arms underneath her. Gaeul stretches out her pointer towards the horizon.

“I know the sun will rise.”

Her voice is but a whisper in the downpour, quieter than even the waterfall of tears running down your face—but it’s powerful enough to pull a single, all illuminating beam of sunlight from the edge of the world. In a final, painful but infinitely freeing breath, Gaeul says it all:

“This could be… you could be… no—

“You are my paradise.”

“Gaeul, I love you!”

As if to say ‘I love you too’, she puts her cold lips on yours a final time and flies away, forever. You hold her forever, kiss her forever, love her forever while the strongest gusts of wind don’t feel like anything. Gaeul is in your arms, looking so alive with her closed eyes and peaceful smile; but it’s all not true.

You decide to fall

faster than the rain drops,

faster than the waterfall

and then meet her;

for she is your paradise.

#kpop angst #kpop fanfiction #ive angst #gaeul angst #ive gaeul angst #gaeul fanfiction #kim gaeul

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deblklesb · 1 year

Text

Lights, Camera, Action! — Abby × Reader × Ellie Oneshot

[established relationship (abby x reader), ellie is their friend, MDNI]

cw: name calling, mentions/descriptions of sex tapes and its contents, kinda pervy characters (?? i guess, idk), beginning of threesome, ellie centered

word count: 3.2k | not proof read

a/n: so this was..... something. i decided to leave it there, i couldn't write anything more due to the amount of college demands but i sure had fun while i could write it!! hope y'all enjoy it, like and reblog! (p.s.: I'm posting it in a rush i should be sleeping by now bc i have to wake up in some hours but i absolutely will answer the asks you've sent me!! i love them, thank y'all for being so nice and sweet! please take care!)

This was a very tricky situation, and Ellie kept thinking to herself how the fuck did she got stuck into it. If you asked her she would be able to answer that, actually, but thinking back, it wasn't a good idea. Not when she felt so massively attracted to both you and Abby.

Now the full video rolling in front of her, on her computer, made a hard blush possess her freckled face. Hands shaking a little bit, stomach twirling, sweat dripping down her back as she heard your moans for the millionth time that night and saw Abby's tongue lapping your wet pussy over and over. She didn't know if she wanted to be you or her, both scenarios seemed too good to be true. The way her heart beat so hard together with her own cunt pulsing.

See, Ellie took some cinema introduction classes. Theory and a bit of practice too. And her friends, who were dating for more than a year now, asked her to film them a sex tape.

"W-what?!", the brunette almost choked with her sandwich, coffing furiously to escape that question.

You handed her the juice box, waiting patiently for her reaction to double down. When her green eyes laid on you with astonishment still, you got into how you and Abby wanted to record some sort of sex tape, to keep it to yourselves anyway.

"And why are you asking me?!"

"Because you're the most qualified for this job", you shrugged like it was nothing. Like you didn't just ask Ellie to watch her two friends having sex, fueled by the fact that someone was recording it. "Besides, we trust you!"

"... This is crazy, d'you know that?"

"We'll handle it. Don't kinkshame" She gulped after Abby's words and the way you eyed her.

Kinkshame you? Little did you know that she was doing it to herself.

During the filming, she nearly fainted. It took her a lot of strength to keep the camera steady and her hard breaths contained so it didn't come into the recording. Although a microphone stood next to the bed, the device on her hands still captured sound.

Sweating and working hard to ignore the growing wetness inside her pants, she didn't want to seem like some kind of pervert. You both trusted her for this, and so looking like some aroused observer wasn't right. Needing to keep professional - was that the word you used? - and not in the slightest horny as fuck.

She saw how Abby ate you out, and wanted to be there. Saw how you humped your girlfriend's thigh, and wanted to be there. Her hand itched to touch your flesh as you were sitting on Abby's face, and to grab Abby's hair while she moaned due to your tongue on her pussy. It was pure madness.

She walked away from that apartment with legs so weak she was surprised she didn't fall. And to her embarrassment, she touched herself and came so hard on her bed, imagining you both together. Feeling bad afterwards, but not enough to stop thinking about all the things she saw.

And now, two days later, here she was. Editing the recording in order to make this an incredible sex tape, the best to ever exist. She used a mobile camera, but also two others from different angles, so there was a lot of material to organize and synchronize, crop and assemble.

She needed to take some time to calm herself, but before she could actually do it there was a knock on her door. Her hand flew to the notebook faster than ever, putting the screen down almost entirely while her door opened to show her friend and roommate.

"Hey, me and Jess are going to order pizza. Want some?", Dina asked, resting on the door.

"Uh- yeah, sure" Ellie nodded, gulping and looking around like she was caught in the middle of something forbidden.

"Why do you look like you're doing some shit?" Her face warmed when your moan sounded on her headphone again.

At this point she already knew what was happening on the video: Abby had you legs open on the bed, rubbing her pussy against yours. The image was sinful, but oh so beautiful.

"I'm doing nothing", the freckled girl closed the computer, now interrupting the video. "Or something. I-I mean, anything could be some shit. What are you talking about?"

"Ellie" her friend's smile was slick, Dina knew just how to make the woman want to disappear from the Earth. "Were you watching porn?"

"N-no!", yes. Yes she was. That was definitely some filthy porn. Not because it had extreme content, but just the fact that it was her friends and crushes there, made her feel a hundred percent more aroused. "Shut up, Dina!"

"Don't have to be so defensive about it", she laughed with hands in the air, watching as Ellie got up from the bed.

"Whatever, let's go eat, get out of my room"

Jesse heard the two of them arguing whilst coming from the bedroom, Ellie with her face so red it could almost be confused by a sunburn and Dina clacking.

"Ellie was watching porn!"

"I was not! What are you, fucking six?!"

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Hands sweating and head full of conflictual thoughts, the brunette walked into the cafeteria holding her backpack so tight it seemed like she was carrying something illegal. She had an itch on the nape, an impression that everyone there knew exactly what she did.

Pretty sure that ginger girl knew Ellie got off on the memories of that day and the video, on the vision of Abby biting her lips as you pressed her swollen clit-

"Ellie!", she snapped out of trance with your voice, looking aerial in front of you and Abby. "Is everything okay?"

"You look like there's somebody stalking you", Abby frowned, eyeing the surroundings.

"No, it's fine, I'm just… Tired", well, that wasn't a lie since she had to stay awake to finish the editing after the college assignments.

"Did we bother you? I told you there was no need to rush, we could wait", you rested a hand on hers across the table after she sat, and all she could think was how your palms were soft and comfortably warm.

"Nah, it's cool. I just left things to the last minute so I hurried as much as I could"

And after all she wouldn't survive editing the video for one more night; might as well explode.

The vision of Abby's fingers loosely resting on your shoulder made her remember the way they invaded your pussy, fitting so perfectly there, enough to make you moan and call her name.

Ellie took the pen-drive from the inside pocket of her backpack and put it on the table in front of the couple, letting go like touching it made her skin burn.

"All edited, boss", she smiled as best as she could, hiding the desire to beg you both for something very explicit. "Enjoy the watch"

"Thanks, Els!", you smiled back with a lot of excitement, so beautifully, picking up the small object. "We would invite you to watch, but I guess you haven't forgotten, since you were there and had to see it again to edit."

Ellie froze.

What did you just say?

Her mind went blank after the mere possibility of sitting on your couch next to the both of you, just fucking watching a video of the most attractive couple having shameless, passionate sex.

She couldn't even say anything back, which caused Abby to chuckle slightly. Just like if she knew you were doing something devious.

"W-what-... I- I mean, I had to watch it again but I don't think I remember that clearly-", she stumbled on her words, trying to revert whatever impressions she may have passed. Shit, did you know?

"Damn, was it that bad?" Abby snorted out, an eyebrow going up.

"No! No-, it was great, it was amazing, I just don't think I, like, remember every single detail or something like that." That was a lie, she absolutely remembered.

"Huh. So would you want to come over to watch it with us? I mean, we need to give you feedback for your hard work, right?", you rested the chin on a hand, eyeing her with so much glee in your orbs that Ellie couldn't tell what the fuck did that mean.

"Sure, right! Yeah, feedback would be nice. To see if my work was good and all, guess I could use that", she couldn't care less about feedback.

"Unless you're already tired of seeing it, it would be comprehensible. Or if it's awkward somehow…", the blonde gestured softly, her voice sounding so good. Ellie was so distracted by the anxiety and the accumulated tension that she didn't even notice how you both were satisfied with her answers, guiding her through a sinuous path into a trap.

"No! I will definitely be there, absolutely cool. Nice. Good shit", she kept nodding back, taking a laugh from you now.

"Okay! Seven?"

"Lucky number!" Her smile was weak and she made finger guns. Fucking finger guns?, she asked herself.

"Yeah, I hope we have some luck for sure", Abby said, smiling.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

"Dina, I will fucking die!" Ellie was almost screaming in the middle of the street, phone against her ear whilst she walked to the building you and Abby lived in.

"Could you chill a little bit?! It's just a movie! I know you're like head over four heels for them, but you've done this before. You'll get in, watch it, laugh, eat something, hang out. And then you'll come home"

"But it's not just a regular movie, it's-", she sighed and stopped on her tracks. Hiding was tiring as fuck, but she didn't know if she could tell someone, that was intimate. "Fuck, I need to breathe"

"That's what I'm saying"

"Right. Thanks, guess I'll just hang out, watch something, whatever you just said"

"Just be yourself, honey! You will do great! Jesse, tell Ellie she will do great"

"You got this, Els. Whatever happens, we'll have pizza when you come back"

"Yeah… Thanks, guys", the brunette smiled even though they couldn't see it, getting closer to the building. "I have to go, just got here"

"If you kiss them, message me right away!"

"I won't stop kissing them just to tell you"

"You'll definitely stop it to jump around and do a victory dance, might as well message me"

"Shut up", she chuckled and said goodbye before turning off.

With a last sigh, Ellie pressed the button to your apartment and waited for you to pick up after the buzz. Instead, the gate just unlocked with a loud noise, neither of you needed to answer the buzz to know it was her. The brunette entered the building, heart pounding.

"Hey, Ells!", you greeted her with that sweet smile of yours, hugging her briefly. All she could think about was how good you smelled, and how that pijama shorts left little to imagination - well, she knew what was underneath it, after all. Still… "Come on, Abs was just setting up the TV"

"Oh-, alredy?", you pulled her by the hand and closed the door, leading the way to the living room she already knew so well after hanging out there so many times.

"We're excited to see the effects of your amazing classes", Abby smirked, winking at Ellie with those beautiful eyes. She was wearing a simple shirt and sweatshorts, exposing those strong legs. It looked so sexy in an inexplicable way.

The three of you sat on the couch, you in between. Your legs rested on the blonde's thighs, large shirt covering the small pijama shorts. Contrasting, Ellie had pants and a flanel on.

The filming was very good, technically speaking. But even the most layman could notice how the mobile camera had not only an open view, but also focused on intimate aspects of the situation.

A long shot of you and Abby kissing passionately. Strong hands caressing your body and bringing back close memories of her touch. Abby bit your chin, and Ellie made sure to record closely her trail of kisses on your exposed neck.

There was also a close shot of your bodies approaching more and more, legs tangling, Abby's strong thigh between yours as you started to move and rub your core there with a tortuous rhythm.

Ellie's face started to warm again, she gripped the arm of the couch when you moan reverberated, as Abby palmed your breast and bit your neck slightly.

The minutes passed and you felt yourself getting hotter. Your girlfriends fingers resting on your leg made you squirm.

"I like the way you focused on the closeness", Abby said, getting a hum from the brunette next to you. "It almost feels like you're trying to connect with the moment."

Ellie gulped, a wetness distinctble on her pants.

As the film goes on, the Miller girl tried her best not to move, thinking that it would hide her aroused situation but only making more obvious for you how she felt. The small biting of her lip also caught your attention, as her emerald eyes locked on the screen, where you had legs open with Abby's hand making circling moves on your clit, while you both kissed.

Fuck, you felt the way your nipples were hardening right now, just thinking about how Ellie could've felt while editing that.

Abby tried her best not to fuck you right then and there, knowing just how Ellie felt about the view.

It was definitely a maddening situation for the three of you.

When you were moving your hips with euphoria, looking for that righ, moaning against your girlfriend's delicious lips on film, Ellie finally got up suddenly.

"I-... Have to go to the bathroom", as all she could say, before almost running into said place.

You and Abby hear the door closing, and finally you could let go a deep breath and hold tightly on the shirt Abby wore.

"I don't know if I can wait much more", you murmured. Her fingers trailed up to the middle of your thighs, you separating them a bit to welcome her there. The film was still on, and it made everything more intense.

"Wanna get going?", the way she smiled had you weak, squirming while she pressed your cunt.

Inside the bathroom, Ellie rested her hands on the sink and breathed deeply, trying to calm herself. She could swear she saw you by the peripheral view, smiling while looking at her. Like everything since the first night after filming, she had to convince herself it was just paranoia.

"It's okay, Ellie. They didn't notice. You can do this", she murmured.

Washing her face and breathing deeply again, she finally got out after drying herself and doing nothing about the wetness between her legs.

Turning off the bathroom lights, she thought a small moan she heard was kinda different, but the confirmation only came when she reached the living room again and saw you on top of Abby - not on the TV, though.

You were literally sitting on her lap, the shorts on the ground and a strong hand pressing your cunt above the pantie's fabric. Muffled moanings came between the kiss you both shared, just like the ones Ellie heard.

"Uh- I think I'mma get going, I don't want to-", her face was so hot and she probably was trembling. Her body urged not to go, but the rational part of her brain was judging her for standing there even though she just said she would go.

"Ellie-", you called her.

You moaned her name.

Her core clenched around nothing, pleading for her to go and touch the both of you.

Abby looked over your shoulder and used the free hand to slap your ass, bringing a louder moan followed by the - literally - pornographic sounds on TV.

That had to be a fucking dream, right? You couldn't possibly be asking for her to do something, right?

Right?

"I guess we scared her, princess", the blonde said, smirking.

"I thought you liked seeing us, Els", you declared while moving the hips on Abby's hand.

And then it hit her.

It was all a fucking trap.

You knew exactly what she thought. Asking her to film you both having sex was no coincidence, not an occasional situation that so happened to have Ellie included, it was deliberated. Fuck, you were exhibiting yourselves to her and she fell like a moth hipnotized by the beautiful flame.

"Fuck, since when you've been planning this?", the brunette murmured, walking slowly towards the couch again. On the TV, Abby slapped your pussy as you came hard and drenched.

You felt a chill running down your spine as Ellie's slender fingers touched your shoulder, going up to your neck. Abby watched in awe as you had the hair being pulled slightly to look up, Ellie was testing the waters.

"This shit has been planned since the beginning?"

"Did you touch yourself looking at us later?", you asked, riding harder. Abby kissed your exposed neck, grabbing your ass while the other hand rubbed your pussy intensively. Green eyes filled with lust analized your features.

"Did you fuck yourselves thinking about me?"

Your smile was slick and you wanted to come so bad. The sounds from the video made you even hornier, needing to surrender completely.

Ellie did something she wanted to do for a long time: she kissed you. And it was intoxicating. Consuming her being from head to toes, oh, it lit a fire inside. It was messy and urgent, and when you both separated her lips were moisty. Then, she pulled Abby by the braid and did the same, their kiss being a bit more slow but not less intense; the gasoline that made the fire grow.

"Please, Els…", your voice came out whiney.

"She's been desperate for you", Abby chuckled with disdain, caressing your ass still partially clothed by the panties. "Almost begged me to fuck her in front of you today"

"Really?", the question wasn't for you, but you nodded. "I thought she was less of a whore"

After the video, she knew how you liked to be treated. And to be pretty honest, it matched what she loved herself.

"I'm gonna taste you, sweetie. Can I?", her fingers caressed your face, contrasting with the way you were humping hard Abby's hand. Nodding again, you started to feel more and more excited with the sounds from the TV.

"Shit, baby, your pretty cunt looks so good", Abby's voice filled the room from the video, you knew that was the part she made you sit on her face.

Ellie kneeled behind you, between Abby's spread legs. The blonde had a blushed face and breath hard, still touching you and having a hard time deciding where to look. She was wet, incredibly wet, and her pussy was aching.

"After that, I wanna taste you, Abs", Ellie's voice made her squirm and slap your ass again.

It was all so mind blowing. Her touches snake on your back, under the shirt, feeling your skin while she kisses your ass and hips. You stopped the movements, receiving Abby's lips on yours again as Ellie worshiped you. She grabbed your tits and bit your ass, causing you to sigh and smirk between the kiss. The temperature of the room rose.

"Get up and take these", she was referring to your panties, which she pulled just so it could snap back on your ass.

"And then sit back on my lap and watch the tape with me while Ellie tastes your cunt", Abby completed, grimacing with the wetness growing between her legs.

[dividers by @luvchaewon and @froopis]

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holdmytesseract · 1 year

Text

Narfi

☆ The Baby Fever AU ☆

Loki x fem!Reader

Summary: You're going into labour - unexpectedly. The problem? It's way too early and Loki isn't home...

Warnings: pregnancy things, birth, pain, swear words? angst, panic attacks, tooth rotting fluff

Word Count: 5k (Whoopsies 👀)

a/n: Yaaaay! It's time for y'all to finally meet Narfi! 🥳 Ella is a big sister now! 🥰 I decided to wrote things slightly... 'different'. You'll see. I hope you like it! I tried my best! ☺️

Sidenote: I'm not a pregnancy/birthing expert, so... 😅🙈

Tagging: @km-ffluv @lokisgoodgirl @eleniblue @vbecker10 @loz-3 @jennyggggrrr @lokisninerealms @peaches1958 @multifandom-worlds @fictive-sl0th @loki-laufeyson-1054 @lovingchoices14 @simping-for-marvel @stupidthoughtsinwriting @lou12346789 @kimanne723 @coldnique @lady-rose-moon @mostclevermiss @aagn360 @acefeather2002 @iamlokisgloriouspurpose

Baby Fever Masterlist °☆• Masterlist

The day had started quite normal. Well... As normal as a day could start with being a little over six months pregnant. You had gotten up quite early to prepare breakfast and say goodbye to your husband, since he left for a mission quite early. Seven in the morning, to be precise, so you got up at six, in order to surprise him with your self-made pancakes. No, you didn't do that for Loki before every mission, but you did it today, since he had to go with Tony - about which he was everything but amused. He had been grumpy all day yesterday after getting to know that. But well... The mission had to be done and Tony was the only one available together with Loki. Though, it wasn't just that. Loki didn't like to leave you alone, now that you reached the seventh month. Sure, you weren't close to birth yet, but nevertheless... It didn't sit right with him. He didn't have a good feeling about it.

Just when you flipped the first pancake in the pan, the door to the kitchen got quietly opened and closed again. "Darling? What in all the nine realms are you doing here?" You knew that he would protest, seeing you up this early. You didn't care, though. You were pregnant not sick. "Preparing a delicious breakfast for my husband," you announced, turning around to face him with a smile. "Since he has to go on a mission with the mean and annoying man of steel." Loki sighed, shaking his head, "Don't even start..." and stepped closer to you. He was already dressed in his full Asgardian armour – except for his helmet, ready to go. "That's really sweet of you, my queen, but you didn't have to do that. I'd rather have you in bed, resting and growing our baby boy." Loki said, cupping your big bump and leaning down to bestow a loving, but sensual kiss upon your lips. You couldn't help but smile in the kiss, lifting both your hands to rest on his leather clad chest. "I know, baby, but I just wanted to do that for you. Wasn't able to sleep anyway for the last two or three ours." The God's expression changed; his face now reflected worry and concern. "Why couldn't you sleep? Is everything alright?" You nodding and rubbed you palms up and down his chest in order to calm him. "Yes, of course, Lokes. I just had a few Braxton Hicks contractions, got kicked by your son a few times and needed to get up to pee two times." Loki nodded, now slightly relieved by your answer, but not entirely. His big hands roamed over your protruding stomach, caressing it gently. "Are you sure, my love?" "Yes, I am." You said, capturing his lips for a quick kiss. "Now sit down and have some pancakes - unless you like 'em burned." Loki rolled his eyes but smiled, causing you to giggle. He gave in in the end, of course and sat down, eating your self-made pancakes. The God couldn't lie... He loved your pancakes and he loved that you surprised him with it. But no matter how much he would love to help you clean up now, wake Ella and bring her to the kindergarten, before spending a lazy morning in bed with you, he had to go... And he absolutely hated it.

"Be safe, okay?" You told him, standing in the door frame of the main door. "Of course, darling. Don't worry about me." Loki wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you as close to him as possible. "You two be safe, yes?" He said, nodding at your belly and you. "Yes." "Good. Take it easy and rest. I'll be back in two days." You nodded, standing on your tiptoes to kiss him one last time. "I'm going to miss you, Lokes..." "I'm going to miss you and my princess and prince as well." You smiled at him, squeezing his thick leather clad shoulders. "Don't annoy Tony so much, yeah?" You said, teasing him slightly and knowing exactly that this would never even happen in your wildest dream. They were going to annoy the hell out of each other... "I'm afraid I can't promise you that, my love." Loki chuckled, winking; before he turned to leave.

After saying thoroughly goodbye to Loki, you cleaned up the kitchen, woke up Ella and got her ready for kindergarten, before bringing her there, of course.

While your daughter was away, you cleaned up the house a bit and did some laundry. Much to your dismiss, you had to take a lot of breaks, due to quite a lot Braxton Hicks contractions. At some point, it even really started to annoy you. It hadn't been that bad with Ella...

Hours ticked by and the Braxton Hicks didn't get better. Rather worse. So, you tried to lay down and sleep, give your body some rest. At first, that was perfectly fine - until you woke up again, with a sticky feeling between your legs. Rubbing your eyes tiredly, your brain needed a moment to catch up. Frowning, you shifted, feeling like you've gotten your period - what was impossible. What in all the nine- Oh no... That was the moment in which your brain had finally caught up, sending a shockwave through your whole body. Within seconds, you sat up and threw the blanket aside. On your sleep shorts was a wet patch - and no, you didn't pee yourself. Your eyes widened at that sight, heart hammering against your chest. Your water broke. Your fucking water broke. That couldn't be. It was way too early. You were not even seven entire months pregnant. "Oh no, no, no..." Panic started to course through your system, as you got up and made your way as fast as possible into the bathroom. It was true. Your water broke. The Braxton Hicks contractions weren't Braxton Hicks... They were real contractions. Not knowing what to do or how to react, you did the only thing your panicking brain could think of... Calling your husband. Grabbing your phone, you quickly tapped on his contact in order to call him; praying to the Gods that he was able to accept your call while flying on the Quinjet. To your sheer relief, he could. "Darling? Everything al-" You didn't even let him finish his sentence. You couldn't. You were way too afraid and panicky. "M-My water broke, Loki." There was silence on the other end of the line for a moment. "I beg you pardon, w-what?" "My water broke. I-I'm in labour." You said, swallowing hard as you felt the tears coming up in your eyes. "I-It's way too early, Loki! I-I shouldn't be in labour now! I'm not even halfway through the seventh month! I-I don't know what is going on! I-I'm afraid! Loki, what do I do now?!" You sobbed, rambling. "Okay, okay, darling. First, take a deep breath please, then tell me exactly what happened." "O-Okay." You did what your husband said, took a deep breath. "I-I had contractions all morning. I-I thought they were just Braxton Hicks, but they weren't. I decided t-to lay down, have some rest, a-and now I woke up and my... my water was broken. I-I'm in- Ughhh..." Another contraction caused you to cut off your own sentence. "L-Labour... I-I'm in labour."

On the Quinjet, Loki literally froze to the ground in pure shock. Your water broke?! You were in labour?! How could that be? It was way too early and- Oh no... His eyes widened at the realisation which dawned suddenly on him. It was too early - for a normal pregnancy, but... not for a Jotun pregnancy. His blood froze in his veins. Seemed like that baby inherited way more of his Jotun genes than he anticipated. Than everybody anticipated. Not even the healers on Asgard saw that coming...

"L-Loki?" Your weaky, shaky voice snapped him immediately back into reality. "I'm sorry, darling, I'm right here. Listen... Normal pregnancies last for about nine to ten months, but Jotun pregnancies last about seven, which means..." "Oh gods... O-Our baby is a Jotun?" Your voice was filled with so much fear. "Not entirely, I think. But my Jotun genes are strong, I'm afraid. I'm so sorry, my love. If I would've known, I-" "No..." You interrupted him on an instant. "Don't blame yourself, please. I-I think I'm ready to give birth, it's just... so sudden, I..." You took a deep breath, feeling the next contraction creep up on you. "I just want our baby to be okay. I-I couldn't stand if something would happen to him. Y-You said he's presumably not entirely Jotun, so what if it's still too early? What if he's not ready to survive outside my womb yet? O-Oh gods..." Another wave of panic rolled through you, causing you to stumble back slightly. "Y/N, love, hey... Listen to me. This won't happen, okay? Everything is going to be alright. You will be alright and our baby as well. Don't panic, please. This is not good for either of you." You nodded, more so to yourself to persuade yourself that he was right. "O-Okay.... Okay. I-I'm going to call Heimdall, so that he can open the Bifrost for m-" "No!" Your husband interjected immediately, voice filled with fear and worry. "W-What?" You were confused now. "You can't do that. I-It's not safe. Travelling with the Bifrost while being pregnant - no problem at all. Travelling with the Bifrost while being in labour - dangerous. It could harm the baby. You can't go to Asgard, my love. It's too late. You need to have our baby here, on Midgard."

That didn't help your anxiety either. Not at all. You were prepared to give birth on Asgard, just like you did with Ella. It was way safer, given the fact that the healers knew what they were dealing with. Your babies weren't just normal babies after all. Certainly not your son. He was a Frost Giant. How on earth would be human doctors able to deal with that? "Ohhh no, no, no, no... I can't do this, Loki. I can't do this here, without the healers!" You could swear, you never felt so much fear in your life than in that moment. "Love, please... I need you to stay calm. I know this isn't easy, but hyperventilation is going to make it worse. Please, my queen, please." "A-And what do I do now?" You cried, unable to hold back the tears anymore. Loki's heart ached, knowing that he should be with you right now and not on a damn Quinjet, heading for Sacramento. "You are going to call an ambulance and make sure you're under medical supervision, okay?" "O-Okay." "I'll look after the rest and try to come back home as fast as possible. Call me, if you need me, yes?" "Y-Yes." "Good. I love you. We're going to make this, I promise." Loki hated to hang up now, but he had to. The God needed to make sure that this Quinjet was no longer heading away from you, but back to you. So, he headed for the cockpit, where Tony was.

The billionaire said casually in his chair, working on new blueprints for an even better suit. The Quinjet was on autopilot. "Stark!" Loki bellowed. "We need to turn around and fly back!" An exaggerated sigh could be heard from Tony, before he swiftly turned around in the chair. "No, absolutely not, Reindeer Games." "It's urgent, Stark. An emergency!" Another annoyed sigh from Tony. "I know you don't like to be on this mission with me - what goes both ways. I don't like spending time with you either, but this mission is impor-" The man didn't get any further. Loki, which had clearly lost his patience with the billionaire already, grabbed him the lapels of his sweatshirt, pulled him roughly out of his chair and pinned him with a thud against the nearby metal wall. Tony was way too perplexed to fight back. Not that he would stand a chance against the God. Without his suit, he was nothing more than a normal man. That was what Loki thought at least. "This idiotic mission is not even in the slightest important to me. My family is important to me. I tell you there's an emergency and you just keep on mocking me?" Loki snarled; a dark chuckle leaving his lips. "Big mistake - and you should know that, Stark. I have to go back to my wife and unborn baby. Y/N went into labour way too early. I don't care about rescuing cats from trees. All I care about right now is the safety and health of my wife and child." He tightened his grip a bit, while Tony just stared at him like paralyzed. "Now turn this Quinjet around, Stark or you are going to wish you had taken my brother on this mission instead of me." Tony blinked; the words reaching his brilliant brain. Immediately, the usually so quick-witted man lifted his hands in awe. He didn't know. How could he know? "Okay, Reindeer Games, okay! I surrender! Just... Let me down." With another angry snarl, Loki let go of Tony - who went to the control board on an instant and changed the destination of the autopilot again. The God witnessed it, gave the man another intense look, before he turned to leave. "Idiot... He could've just said that this was about Y/N instead of threatening me..." Tony muttered under his breath, unable to hear for Loki, as he sat back down on the chair. "Don't fret, my love. I'm coming." Loki mumbled, staring out of the small window. His heart was aching for his wife. He should have never left. He just should've stayed.

You couldn't remember much. Calling an ambulance and riding with them towards the hospital was one of those things.

"Okay, ma'am can you walk?" One of the friendly paramedics asked. A man with ash blonde hair and a lip piercing. You nodded, steadying yourself at the hallway wand. "I-I think so, yes." "Alright. We will steady you." Together with the two paramedics, you made your way down the elevator and hallways of the Avengers compound. It was quiet. Nobody was home. Except you. It was a rare thing to happen, but it did happen. Unfortunately, right on that day. "How far apart are your contractions now? Can you tell that?" The woman with a ponytail asked. "I-I, um... Uh..." You were still shaken up. Loki's words managed to calm you, yes, but only to a certain extent. "I think about an hour apart now." "Okay, and your water broke?" "Y-Yes." You reached the ambulance after a fifteen-minute slow walk, the paramedics helping you inside. "And how far are you exactly?" Asked the man. You swallowed. "Twenty-five weeks." The man and woman's eyes widened, shock written all over their face, causing you to quickly add some more information. "B-But, uh this-" You started, but help your breath as another contraction rolled over you. The pain causing you to bend over, gritting your teeth. The grip of both the man and woman tightened, in order to keep you steady. After taking a few deep, deep breaths, you continued. "This isn't a n-normal pregnancy... M-My husband isn't from, u-um here. He's uh, halfway Asgardian and Jotun, a-and this baby has a lot o-of Jotun genes apparently. T-That's why our son's coming earlier." Your gaze met both their eyes, which reflected still shock, but also disbelief. They clearly needed a moment to get along. Blinking, the man nodded. "O-Okay, um. We just get you to the hospital first. Then we'll see." Said and done. About fifteen minutes later, you were in the hospital - and from that point on, everything went a bit blurry. Your heart was beating fast against your chest, as the car came to an halt. You weren't ready for this. You weren't. No matter if this baby was actually ready to be born, it was still too early. Even for the Jotun pregnancy - as you realized a few minutes ago. This caused a fresh wave of angst and panic course through your system, making your hands shake. So many thoughts were cursing through your mind. What if the baby wasn't going to survive this? Loki wasn't here. What if he couldn't make it back in time? You needed him. You couldn't bring this baby into this world without him, could you? And with that not enough... A contraction like you never had before rolled over your body, causing you almost to black out from the amount of pain. Panting hard, you suddenly felt something else within your body. "I-I-I need to push. I-I, oh gods. I need to p-push." You stammered out, shocking the paramedics again. "Ma'am, are you sure? You just told us your contractions were about an hour apart." "I-I know, but- ahhhh." You couldn't resist this urge any longer. You had to. "Okay, quick, get her inside. We need to check on her!" The woman said, quickly helping the man to get you inside the hospital.

This didn't help your anxiety as well. Quite the opposite. It became even worse. So bad, that you couldn't fight it anymore. It started to cloud your mind; invading your brain. You halfway passed out on the way, but everything was a blur; constantly switching between consciousness and unconsciousness. Bright light, some strange voices saying words you couldn't make out - and the faint cry of a baby was all you could remember.

The Quinjet had been going as fast as possible - and yet it took Tony and Loki almost three hours to get back to the Avengers compound. Without even saying a single word to Tony, Loki stormed out of the Quinjet the moment it touched the ground. You and his son were everything he could think about right now. There was nothing more important to the God in all the nine realms - except Ella and probably his oaf of a brother. So, he made his way straight to the hospital, stormed through the doors and headed immediately to the maternity ward. Good thing that he was here before, when little Morgan was born not so long ago. It helped him now to remember the way.

With quick steps approached Loki the first nurse he saw in that big, white hallway... A man with very short, pink hair.

"Excuse me, would you please lead me to my wife? Y/N Y/L/N. She must be here." The nurse stopped in his movements, turned to face Loki, eyes widening slightly. You could tell that the man was quite a bit shocked at what his eyes saw. And maybe he wasn't taking Loki seriously. "I, um... I'm sorry, Sir, but I'm afraid I can't." The God frowned. "What? Why not? I demand to see my wife!" The male nurse shook his head. "I'm sorry, Sir. I can't allow a stranger to go-" "I'm not a stranger! I'm the husband and father of the child my wife is currently bringing into this world!" The God balled his hands to fists, clearly angered now. But the nurse didn't budge. "I understand your worry and concern, but I am not allowed to, Sir, until I have this checked." Loki sighed. Probably it wasn't a good idea to literally storm into this hospital, still dressed in full Asgardian armour and armed to the teeth... Loki was sure he was going to hear from Fury about this - and Steve. But what was he supposed to do? That was Y/N - and his unborn baby! A deep breath left Loki's lips as he turned around and took a few steps away from the nurse. With a snap of his fingers, a green shimmer enveloped his body, changing his armour into a hoodie, black jeans and a pair of sneakers. Then he turned to face the man again, who stood open-mouthed across from him, clearly shocked and surprised at what he just witnessed. "Please. I'm begging you. I just want to see my wife and child." If his son wasn't born already - what Loki didn't hope... He was never one to beg. Never. But this situation, with him not knowing how you and the baby were doing, had him on his knees. At Loki's pleading look, the nurse gave in. "Alright, Sir. I'll have a look. What's your wife's name again?" "Y/N Y/L/N." "And you are...?" "Loki Laufeyson." "Okay. I'll be right back." Loki nodded, being very relieved. "Thank you."

About five minutes later, the man came back - with a woman in tow, which definitely looked like a doctor. The God felt how his heart sped up. Was this a good sign or a bad sign? He didn't know. "Mr. Laufeyson?" The doctor approached him. "Yes. My wife is she...?" "She is alright." Relief washed over Loki. "Thank the norns... A-And the baby?" "Alright as well." Loki swallowed. "S-So he's already born?" The woman nodded, giving him an apologetic smile. "He is." His shoulders slumped, sadness overcoming him like a big shadow. "I missed the birth of my son..." He mumbled under his breath, nevertheless loud enough for the doctor to hear. "I'm sorry, Mr. Laufeyson, but the little man couldn't wait for his dad to arrive." Another nod from the God. "How did the birth go? Without complications, I hope?" "Yes. It was a natural birth, although your wife went through a lot of stress and panic attacks. During the birth she was constantly slipping in and out of consciousness." Loki's eyes widened at that. Oh norns... Apparently, you had been so afraid of the sudden situation you were thrown in. Fear of giving birth. Fear of giving birth too early. Fear of the baby's health. And he couldn't be there. No, he sat on a fucking Quinjet towards Sacramento with Tony Stark. Great. "Can I see them, please?" "Of course. Want to pick up your son first?" Loki's heart sped up at the thought of seeing and holding his son for the very first time. "Yes, please." "Follow me."

The doctor led Loki down the hall and around the corner into another hallway, until they came to an halt in front of a big door with two window panes in the middle. "This is our newborn nursery. Before you can enter this room, you have to change." She handed Loki a blue hygiene coat, who quickly put it on. "Ready to meet your son?" The God nodded, almost impatiently.

The woman then led him through the newborn nursery, in which countless cribs stood. Some empty, some with a baby inside. Loki was pretty sure that he had never seen so many babies in one room in his life before. His eyes travelled from one to the other, as the doctor was leading him through the big room.

"There we are." She announced then, stopping in front of one of the cribs. "Meet your son, Mr. Laufeyson." Loki wasn't able to see much yet, but what he saw, was a tiny, blue hand peeking out of the crib. Like Ella, was his son born in his Jotun form - as it seemed. The God's eyes widened slightly, before they searched for Dr. Martin's - as he could read on the little name plate; his brain already working fast to come up with an explanation. Sure, they didn't see a blue baby every day... Just as he wanted to open his mouth, Dr. Martin spoke up. "Your wife told us." She said, smiling softly. He blinked, was a bit taken aback. A blue baby... And nobody lost it? The doctor seemed to read the confusion on Loki's face. "Your baby boy isn't the first special baby we had here." She explained further, before she turned on her heels to leave. "I give you a few minutes of alone time with your son now. I think after that we can take him to his mama." Loki was still in some kind of shock, unable to say a word and just watched the friendly and understanding doctor leave - until a soft, but demanding whine ripped him out of his trance; causing his stomach to flip. The God's head snapped immediately direction crib. Cautiously, he approached the little bed, taking the first look on his newborn son. The little boy was wrapped up in a light blue teddy bear babygrow. Little legs pulled up against his belly; tiny hands balled into fists. His eyes were still closed, but his face was contorted, as another soft whine left his pouty lips. A tuft of black hair was on his head. Loki wasn't able to see a lot of his skin, but as he could tell from afar, it was blue. Familiar marks and ridges adorned his son's face and head. Loki's heart did another somersault, as it fell hopelessly in love with the baby boy. He was beautiful. Just absolutely beautiful - and he was his.

"Hello, little man." Loki spoke in a soft, hushed tone. As soon as his voice urged to the baby's ears, his tiny face seemed to relax; clearly feeling and hearing that his father was close. Without hesitation, Loki reached inside the crib and took the baby carefully up in his arms. "Welcome to this world, Narfi." He managed to choke out, before his emotions got stuck in his throat and a few tears escaped the corners of his eyes. He was blessed with becoming a father again... It was hard to grasp for Loki. He needed a few moments to realise it; feeling pure love and proudness course through his veins. It eased the pain and sadness of missing Narfi's birth a bit. He was here now - and he would not leave his or your side again. "I am so sorry I missed the moment you saw the light of the day, but I am here now, my little prince. Daddy's here now." Loki enjoyed the first precious moments he spent with Narfi, holding him close and letting him feel all his love. One thing was missing though... A thing he did with Ella as well. A thing he would make sure to catch up on later, as soon as he was alone with you and his son.

You blinked your eyes open, adjusting to the sunlight, which flooded the room. The first thing you noticed was the white ceiling above you. You tried to remember what had happened. Your memory was blurry. All you could think of was calling Loki in a panic, telling him you were in labour. You remembered his words and that you called an ambulance, just like he said. You remembered riding with them towards the hospital, but after that it became a haze. "Y/N?" A voice called suddenly out to you. "Love, are you awake?" A familiar voice. Loki. You turned your head in the direction where his voice came from; gaze landing on your husband, who sat beside your bed on a chair, shirtless, skin tinged in blue - and with a small bundle resting against his bare chest, causing your eyes to widen. Loki wore a smile, gentle ruby eyes looking at you. "Hey, my love." He whispered, reaching out his hand for you to take - which you did. "Would you like to meet our son? I think he's very eager to meet his mama." A wave of emotions and feelings over rolled you. You had given birth? How could it be that you couldn't remember? "I-I-I yes, oh gods, Loki... I-I-" "Shhhh, everything is alright." He hushed and reassured you immediately, giving your hand a squeeze, before handing Narfi over to you. You took your newborn son into your arms with shaky hands. This moment seemed so surreal, and yet it was happening right in front of your eyes. "H-Hi, my little prince." You whispered, feeling the tears pooling in your eyes. At your voice Narfi opened his eyes, his father's beautiful matching ruby eyes looking up at you. "Hi... I'm your mama." The baby just stared at you with big eyes, cuddling closer to you. You couldn't help but smile, feeling the tears fall now. A thing you immediately notice was, that - unlike Ella, Narfi stayed in his Jotun form and didn't shapeshift. Perhaps he needed a bit longer for that - which wasn't a bad thing, of course. "What happened?" You asked then. Loki was more than willing to explain everything to you, from the very start.

"How are you feeling now, love?" Your husband asked in the end, after having a long conversation with you. "Tired and exhausted, but I-I- Norns, Lokes, I'm so sorry you missed the birth... I-I should've called you earlier o-or-" "Hey, it's okay, darling." He interrupted you, leaning forward to place a lingering kiss on your forehead. "Please don't blame yourself for this. If anything, I am the one to blame, because I wasn't here earlier. But I am here now - and that is what counts." You gave him a soft, but still slightly saddened smile. "Does Ella know?" Loki nodded. "I called Jane, explained everything to her. She agreed to pick Ella up from kindergarten and to tell her." You smiled, thinking of how excited your daughter must be. "I can't wait for her to meet her baby brother." Loki chuckled, placing a big hand on Narfi's back. "Me neither. But for now, you have to rest, my love. I'm right here." He said, learning down to kiss you leisurely, before he rested his forehead against yours. "I love you so much, my queen... And my little princess and littlest prince as well. Thank you for gifting me the wonderful life I never thought I deserved."

#the baby fever au #loki x reader #loki laufeyson #loki x female reader #loki x you #tom hiddleston x reader #loki x y/n #loki fanfiction #loki fluff #loki laufeyson x reader #loki laufeyson x female reader

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kyeomniscient · 7 months

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seventeen ao3 fic recs

other rec lists

pt. 2 (completed shorter fics, <10k words)

pt. 3 (incomplete fics)

so i recently got into reading svt fics and this is a compilation of a few of my favourites :) all recs here are completed (yay no cliffhangers)!

these are mostly minwon, but there are some other pairings as well and i'll be updating this as i go~

also props to anyone who writes!! both fics and in general bc writing is not easy and the creativity and flair that some of these authors have... simply unmatched

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all-time faves (last updated 1/4/2024)

as y'all can tell i love the longer fics bc they are j so immersive and memorable esp when the characters capture the essence and little quirks of svt so well sooo here goes

Catch the Stars (minwon, 150k words, completed)

this is often hailed as one of the top 3 minwon fics of all time and i wholeheartedly agree!! this might be my fave fic of all time - i really love the city boy x country boy trope, where the mcs form a connection in spite of their different backgrounds and life experiences hehe also random but some of the scenes reminded me of cmbyn (small town italy peachy summer vibes) lolol

Kalon (minwon, 200k words, completed)

my heart broke for wonwoo in this fic and it was absolutely worth the read :"") it's by the same author as catch the stars and her writing is just *chef's kiss* really loved how each conflict and setback was handled and built upon, and wonwoo's inner conflict due to his fear of relationships was really well-depicted and realistic, and the intimacy of them spending time together in the spectacle shop after hours was everything i could've asked for

Love Stuck (minwon, 200k words, completed)

don't usually read parent aus because i prefer stories where the mcs are closer in profile to the actual pair but this was very well-written!! loved how the author handled the struggles of single parent-child dynamics as well as the slow burn - each character was really fleshed out, the chapters didn't feel repetitive despite the fic being quite long and it was all in all a vv wholesome fic hehe

'til kingdom come (minwon, 160k words, completed)

this was a historical au and the writing was so poetic!! and exquisite!! not forgetting the tension and drama of it all, how the world-building was so intricately wrought out, the language so befitting of the period, the development of the entire war arc beyond the romance, each character so original yet still bearing hints that remain true to their persons, the chapters being well-paced, the epilogue that wrapped things up so beautifully... i can't even begin to fathom how long it took the author to come up with this gripping masterpiece askshdfjkdsf i'd give a million kudos if i could

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others (in order of descending word count)

the sun and the silver lining (minwon, 60k words, completed)

this one made my heart feel things :"") really loved this author's descriptions (the metaphors in this fic were unparalleled) and how they give nuance to the internal thoughts and feelings of the characters!! slight b99 vibes with policeofficer!wonwoo x paramedic!mingyu lolol

Like the Beginning (minwon, 55k words, completed)

this was heartbreak/comfort with a second-chance romance and slight hospital playlist vibes lol i relish in the pain of reading about wonwoo trying to go back to how things were, mingyu being torn between indulging him and wanting to keep his distance, that feeling of looking at someone you once loved only to realise that you never moved on in the first place ugh

in defense of the side character (minwon, 55k words, completed)

actor!mingyu x scriptwriter!wonwoo - super well-written and it even has art!! the scripts made it all the more realistic and i have a soft spot for fics on the entertainment industry bc the overall atmosphere is always a little different from the slice of life/school aus like there's this underlying tension of being under public scrutiny and the pressure of being public figures and i j love when the fics capture these nuances in the story hah

Change of Ends (soonwoo, 52k, completed)

tennis!au - this might actually be my favourite soonwoo fic ever?? loved how their relationship was fleshed out over the years with the use of a non-linear narrative to sprinkle in memories from their past between their moments at present, and wonwoo was so sweet and loving here and it was such a refreshing take on his character bc he is usually the colder one. also, the level of detail for the sport was incredible and made the reading experience extra immersive so highly-recommend!!

A Mighty Stranger (minwon, 50k words, completed)

a fantasy minwon au for a change! really cool concept for a fic and there was so much effort and research that went into this bc the story spanned across different continents and time periods so i'd recommend this to those looking for smth diff

The Times We Fell (minwon, 46k, completed)

this one definitely did things to my heart :"") loved the visuals of hockeyplayer!mingyu x figureskater!wonwoo, the development of their enemies(?)-to-friends-to-lovers arc, how their relationship remained strong and steady throughout despite being met with various obstacles and external pressures along the way, how Mingyu rekindled Wonwoo's love for skating not once but twice, just them being a healthy and supportive couple - a beautiful read!

cut to the feeling (soonwoo, 44k, completed)

this was a character study on emotional self-torture and every chapter was an absolute sucker punch to the gut - loved the sadness and pining for the drama but i also felt like plot-wise the events didn't really justify the intensity of it all as much as the author's other piece :"/ writing was still amazing though!!

gold fever (seokgyu, 43k words, completed)

archer!seokmin x weightlifter!mingyu in a college au - really liked the vibes and writing in this fic :) seokgyu fics are rare and i feel like it's bc their dynamics on-camera mostly revolve around teasing/bickering it's hard to picture anything else, but the slow-burn element brought smth fresh and new to their dynamics and it was such an enjoyable read!

just let me know (i'll be on the floor) (verkwan, 30k words, completed)

soft and sweet friends-to-lovers fic that made my heart so warm!! really loved how their relationship unfolded over time, how they took care of each other as roommates, with seungkwan's obliviousness and denial and vernon being so patient with him throughout - 'twas a lovely slice-of-life read that brought comfort and joy :)

A (Revised Guide to Lab Safety) (soonwoo, 25k words, completed)

askjfsds this was an amazing mix of soonwoo peer dynamics in a college au + science!! their lab partners-to-friends-to-lovers arc was really too cute so i'd highly recommend this to soonwoo enthusiasts

tu me manques (minwon, 26k words, completed)

this really captured the feeling of watching 90s & early 2000s romcoms (think before sunrise, chasing liberty, serendipity etc) and was written so beautifully i might cry :"") really loved the travelling aspect of it, the scenic descriptions of each city made the fic so immersive, like i was there along w them sigh

also wonwoo has slight manic pixie dream boy vibes and mingyu is just there lolol

snowflake, i'll catch you tonight (minwon, 25k words, completed)

this was really cute!! just soft and fluffy vibes in general and characterisation was super on point bc wonwoo is literally winter personified lmao

a mix of sun and clouds (soonwoo, 24k words, completed)

lovelovelove aus with interesting professions, and this time they're both working at a weather station! soonyoung being a weather nerd is such a delight to read, and wonwoo's emotional constipation + little acts of service never gets old hehe geguri is amazing

Paradise Lost (minwon, 24k, completed)

sad fics have a chokehold on me and this one definitely takes the cake... was left in tears and i would risk it all to experience it for the first time again

despite this being a post-apocalyptic au, the development of the romance arc was treated softly and gently, that the moments of tenderness between the mcs shone through the violence and ruin that surrounded them. it was a really refreshing take on domesticity, one that took me by surprise, and it's a pity that the author only has 2 works!! i need MORE

Bend (and Break) (seoksoon, 23k words, completed)

fwb-to-friends-to-lovers seoksoon?? another wholesome fic and i loved the build up in this fic, where the mcs are basically doing all but admitting their feelings for each other UGH so cute

175°C for 60 minutes (seokgyu, 23k words, completed)

vv cute baking rivals au!! love how little clues were sprinkled throughout the story and came together at the end to tie things up nicely hehe

For Want of Glory (woncheol, 21k words, completed)

secret agent au! loved woncheol's dynamics here, and it's really endearing to read from coups' pov because i love the way he just PINE

you make me feel good (i like it) (soonwoo, 18k words, completed)

no spoilers but this was an absolute beast of a fic that DESTROYED me the best way possible :"") each chapter was succinct yet packed a punch, loveloveloved how the element of time travel was weaved into the storyline!! op you are a genius for conceiving and writing this

full ten (minwon, 14k words, completed)

super adorable strangers-to-roommates-to-lovers fic!! i really loved that they each had their own lives (preferences, habits, jobs and interests) before they met each other, and coming to live together only made their lives better - there's just something about the intimacy of co-existing in the same space with someone, bonding over simple weeknight dinners, developing a shared routine over time :"")

favorite (minwon, 14k, completed)

this was a v lovely friends-to-lovers fic - really loved the timelapse of small moments between them from both perspectives!

helios (minwon, 13k, completed)

a literal masterpiece - great execution of a cool concept, and wonwoo's persona as an artist was really well-crafted!!

day ones all i keep around me (minwon, 12k words, completed)

established (secret) relationship where minwon tries to soft-launch their marriage but their fans are too dense to realise LMAO this was really cute, and i loved the dynamics between streamer!wonwoo x soccerplayer!mingyu hehe

Flowers In My Path, My Love (seokwoo, 12k words, completed)

this was the cutest college meet-cute aka hotpoetryclassguy!wonwoo x cutepoetryclassguy!dk - it really captured the moments of fumbling, awkward shyness when interacting with crushes so well and bonus points for describing dk as sunshine bc he really is the brightest boy!!

light the way home (and i'll follow) (minwon, 10k words, completed)

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feel free to rec any fics based on what i've shared!! would really appreciate it thank you hehe

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low-budget-korra · 2 months

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Comments on Netflix's Avatar The Last Airbender

*spoiler alert*

First of all I'm gonna start by saying it is one of the best adaptations I've seen so far. And that's the key word, adaptation. I've seen a lot of fans and others complain about some things that honestly, doesn't make sense because some things only work in a cartoon(just as much as some things only work in a book or a video game)

And before I start to talk about some topics that I judge important, I also wanna say that the production is fantastic, from the costumes to the CGI. It all looks amazing. (A part from Yue's wig)

1. The Script

It's not easy to pick 20+ episodes and make it fit in only 8 but damn they did a hell of a good job, especially when judging what was important to show and what they could let it go. Some fans commented that since there's no fillers, the Gaang and others miss some development but I think that for the universe of the live action what we got here it worked.

I can express how much I like to see Ozai and Azula's relationship and how it is now clear that he uses the siblings against each other, manipulating them to get what he wants. But I will admit I miss the fear Azula had, since it's implied in the show and some extras that she does fear Ozai, and fears becoming like Zuko.

I hope the 41. Is just fine after the battle in the north. See all of them bowing to Zuko after discovering that Zuko was the one that saved their asses and was heavily punished by that...it was beautiful. I loved the writers did that, give names and faces to Zuko's crew and a beautiful yet sad arc when Ozai banished his son and the men who he saved.

I also loved that they put weight into things that was treated as a joke, like Katara talking about her mother. She was a little kid who saw her mom get murdered in front of her and the live action made sure to let us know that it is not okay to make jokes about something so traumatic. All of the deaths here have tons of weight in it, it's not some random person, is someone we met, someone we liked, someone who helped. The costs of the war, something the cartoon manages to show us but know in live action, with real people, the massage gets stronger.

And they didn't forget Iroh's past like the fandom does, which is great. That actor, the earthbending soldier really let it all out, that's how you use the few screentime you have.

Sokka's isn't sexist and y'all were making a storm outta a cup of water, is not like Sokka sexist didn't go away after like the 4 or 5 episode in the original show. I think the live action was able to bring more depth to him in comparison to the first season of the cartoon. We see how he feels about his father's, the absence of him and his duty as warrior who kinda doesn't want to be a warrior.

I need a Gyatso in my life, I didn't know I needed to see more of him until the live action gave us more of him. Kyoshi was the Thor coming to Wakanda from this season, WHY THE FUCK BRYKE DONT WANNA GIVE US A KYOSHI SERIES? She is absolutely a jewel of a character. Roku and Kuruk, damn poor Kuruk man, so much pain in his words but again that's what it means to be the Avatar, it's not fun and games. Zhao saying to Aang what Korra villains said to Korra😭 that the world doesn't need the Avatar anymore, it hurt.

Guys I'm gonna say it, there's no way in hell for anyone to ship Kataang here. I'm saying this because some shippers complain that the secret tunnel part was different but c'mon, look at Kiawentiio and look at Gordon, it would be so s awkward and weird and just wrong. I know they don't have a big age difference, is only like 3 years but when they filmed Gordon looked so much younger than her, maybe in the next seasons the difference won't be that big.

The pace is good, once you start you don't wanna stop.

2. The Acting

Everyone is really good at capturing the essence of it's characters and somewhat making them their own. The highlights for me were Dallas and Ian, Its like they came straight from the show. Ken Leung's Zhao was also amazing as he was way more threatening here than he was in the show.

Kiawentiio was the Katara we were looking for, she is kind yet strong, brave and caring. And Gordon was Aang, sure, he has to learn a few things since he slipped a few times in his acting but nothing that could ruin the experience, that kid is good and just needs some experience.

Elizabeth Yu was Azula. It was different but yet the same character, is like learning something new of her and I like how cleared she show emotions with her eyes. Maria Zhang had great chemistry with Ian and I can't wait to see more of Suki. Arden Cho and Yvonne Chapman as June and Avatar Kyoshi look like they came out straight from the cartoon. Daniel Dae Kim...man is Ozai, so cold, so sharp, so scary, already way better than the cartoon version. I wanna see more of Paul Sun-Hyung Lee as Iroh since the character he really starts to shine in book 2.

3. The live action doesn't have the spirit of the OG?

Yes, it does have. The thing is now that we are seeing real people, things get dark one way or another but I don't think it ruined the spirit of the show. Aang is still a kid, Sokka still making sarcastic jokes, Zuko still annoying as hell, Katara still hopeful and strong... There's everything there really.

The thing is stuff like genocide, murder, war, death and suffering are, for some people, better to watch as pixels in a cartoon than real people.

I think it's a great adaptation and I would recommend it to every fan.

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akaridream · 8 months

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all the right buttons: part 2 GOKU (college AU goku x reader)

alright goku fuckers, come get y'all juice

and don't worry geta lovers, you'll get yours soon too

You stared at the coin in your hand, anxiously rubbing your thumb over it. The only way to discover your true feelings was to flip it. Heads for Goku, tails for Vegeta.

The coin sailed through the air. You captured it between your palms and flipped it onto the back of one hand. Eyes opening, you lifted your hand. Heads.

YOU: ummm i guess i felt like i had a slightly better connection with goku?

You climbed into bed and laid in the darkness, wiggling your toes impatiently between your bed sheets. Your stomach floated nervously within you, waiting for her response. What if your guess was wrong? Would you be disappointed if it was Vegeta? No, certainly not disappointed. But there would be at least a tinge of FOMO in your heart at the thought of missing out on Goku. He seemed so sweet and easy to get along with. But perhaps he was just a nice guy with everyone and you were nothing special to him. Whatever the case, you jolted when your phone finally buzzed with Bulma’s reply.

BULMA: as soon as you left, goku said you were cool and that you should come over again soon :) and he said you were really pretty An automatic smile spread across your face and you kicked your feet up with a delighted squeal.

YOU: omg i’ll come over right now if he wants haha

BULMA: easy tiger :) i gave him your number and told him to hit you up, so hopefully you’ll be hearing from him v soon

YOU: did you tell him anything I said about him? Did you put in a good word for me?

BULMA: I told him you’re super sweet and lots of fun to be around, but he was already kinda smitten and didnt need much encouragement. it was actually really cute

Your cheeks were starting to hurt from all the smiling. Then your phone buzzed again.

Unknown Number: hey, it’s goku! i got your number from bulma, i hope thats alright

You stomped your feet on the bed, pleasantly surprised that he was texting you already. This guy doesn’t play games!

YOU: omg hey! ofc thats okay! I know I can trust bulma not to give my number to creeps. I had a great time playing with you today!

GOKU: yeah me too! I’ll have to dig out some other games we can play together sometime

YOU: I’m absolutely down for another game sesh! Wish I still had all my old games, I’d bring some

GOKU: just bring yourself and I’m sure we can find something to play! theres actually an old tenkaichi tournament movie, we could try and find it somewhere and watch it

YOU: ive heard its actually a horrible movie! but that isn’t gonna stop me, i love making fun of bad movies

GOKU: haha cool! Vegeta and I always go to the gym friday afternoons, but I’m free after 5 or so. We could order some food and just hang out here

Wow, he really doesn’t beat around the bush! Straight to asking me to hang out already?

YOU: that sounds great! And will your roommates be joining us?

GOKU: they’ll probably be around. But i was kind of hoping it might just be you and me

YOU: i think i’d like that :) so it’s a date then?

GOKU: yeah, if that’s okay with you

YOU: definitely okay with me! I can bring some drinks if you want

GOKU: yeah sure! You like chinese takeout? Theres an awesome place just off campus I order from all the time, they give you sooo much food

YOU: yeah, that sounds great to me. I’m sure you need big portions, you’re a growing boy after all!

For the rest of the week, you texted Goku without the conversation coming to a natural end. As midday turned into Friday afternoon, an anxious, fluttery feeling flooded your stomach. What should you wear? What should you do with your hair? What about makeup? In the end, you opted for a pair of high-waisted jean shorts, a cute camisole with lace trim and an oversized cozy cardigan that kept falling off your shoulder. The peek of skin would be enticing, if he was interested in hooking up of course. And you certainly weren’t against that idea. Since the day you met him, you had been thinking about climbing all over him, especially right into his lap…

You put your hair up into a clip and dotted your cheeks and lips with a soft glow. After a touch of mascara, you admired yourself in your full length mirror. Scrubbed, shaved and smelling lightly of perfume, you felt confident in your natural beauty. Your heart danced in your chest when your phone buzzed with a text from Goku, saying to come over whenever you were ready. You grabbed the case of chilled vodka soda from your dorm fridge and headed across campus.

By the time you arrived at Bulma and Goku’s front door, your cheeks were aching from smiling so much. Your heart still twirling like a ballerina, you knocked and awaited your date’s appearance.

The door swung open, revealing Goku in a tight black tee and another pair of short shorts in bright orange. He grinned and adjusted his glasses on his nose.

“Hey! Good to see ya!” he said, giving you a brief but warm hug as you stepped over the threshold. Your arms snaked around his thin waist, pleasantly aware of having his hard body flush against yours.

“Good to see you again too, Goku! How was your workout?” you asked as he led you into the kitchen.

“Great! Vegeta hit a PR on bench today, so that was cool!”

You tilted your head as he took the case of vodka soda from you and put it in the fridge. “What’s a PR?”

He blinked. “Oh! Personal record. Sorry, I forgot you aren’t a gym rat like me,” he said, shyly scratching the back of his neck. “Oh, Bulma left this for us by the way.” Goku tapped a knuckle on a bottle of white wine with a fancy label.

“Oh my gosh, that looks expensive!” you said as you examined it. “But what a sweetheart she is! I’ll have to tell her thank you!”

Goku led you to the living room where the game console and old TV had been shoved to the corner and Bulma’s fancy flat screen once again dominated the space. A new coffee table sat in front of the couch as well.

“She’s been busting my balls all week about you,” he said with a shy chuckle as he plopped onto the couch.

“Oh yeah?” you asked in a teasing voice. “What about me?” A warm blush started to overtake Goku’s cheeks. He smiled and shrugged. “Just that she’s happy to see me take interest in someone, I guess. Apparently she thinks its about time!”

You sat on the couch and propped your arm over the back, turned to face Goku. “Has it been a while since you dated someone then?”

He nodded. “Yeah, since high school. I had a long term thing with this one girl but it didn’t end so great. She was a bit of a hot-head. But since her… I haven’t even been on a date. Just been trying to sort my own stuff out, you know?”

“Yeah, I get it. I’m not the most experienced with relationships either. Shit’s complicated,” you laughed.

Goku smiled. “Yeah, you’re telling me!” His phone buzzed. “Alright, dinner’s here! Be right back!” His eyes grew wide with excitement and he raced out the door before you could even reply. He came back just as quick and unloaded a surprising amount of food onto the coffee table.

“Are you sure you ordered enough?” you asked sarcastically.

Goku furrowed his brows and looked over the selection of takeout containers. “Well, I thought five entrees might be enough, but I’ll be happy to order more if you want!”

You laughed and opened a pair of chopsticks. “I was kidding! This looks like enough to feed my entire family back home!”

His frown quickly inverted and he grinned. “Oh, okay, good! Should we break out what you brought to drink or try Bulma’s fancy wine?”

“Let’s have the wine with the movie, I think,” you suggested, padding over to the fridge and grabbed a drink for each of you.

Per usual with Goku, conversation was steady and comfy. You chatted and laughed as you sat on the floor across the coffee table from each other, both of your cell phones sitting untouched. “Is this table new?” you asked.

Goku nodded as he scarfed down some lo mein. “Yeah, Bulma bought a new one because Vegeta and I kind of broke the last one.” You sputtered a laugh. “How on earth did you manage to break a coffee table?”

“Well, we were just kind of goofing around and Vegeta slipped and… Fell right through it! It was all glass, he complained about it being invisible all the time anyway. Bulma is convinced he did it on purpose because he hated it!”

You covered your mouth full of food and laughed heartily. “That is hilarious! But what the hell do you mean you were just goofing around?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know, just… Goofin’ off like guys do?”

“Sounds just like my brothers,” you said, shaking your head.

You finished your meal, with Goku eating the lion’s share of the food. You didn’t mind, he clearly required more calories than you did. As he was clearing away all the takeout containers, you watched him in the kitchen from behind. His wide shoulders and slutty waist made your head feel light. Or was it the vodka soda?

“You ready to bust out this bottle of wine?” he called over his shoulder.

Your eyes grazed over his silhouette, admiring his stellar ass in those tiny shorts. “Sure, let’s do it!”

Goku rummaged around in the kitchen drawers. “Crap, I have no idea where to find a corkscrew.”

You rose from your place on the living room floor to help him look. “Well I sure hope you at least know how to use one, because I sure don’t! I only ever buy the cheap wine with the screw top.”

Goku bumped into you, then placed a hand on your hip to navigate around you in the kitchen. You blushed at the contact.

“Bulma’s not here, is she?” you asked. “We could ask her if she knows where it is.”

“No, she said she was heading back to West City to see her parents this weekend. And Vegeta said he’d be out late tonight.”

Way at the back of a stuck drawer, you felt a spiral shape. You turned and twisted it until the drawer could move again, finally able to extract the object. You held it up with a bright smile.

“Ta-da!” you said.

“Hey, nice!” Goku said, giving you a high-five. He took the corkscrew and carefully opened the fancy bottle to pour you both a glass.

You returned to the living room with two stemless crystal glasses as Goku made a quick trip to his bedroom.

“The library had the Tenkaichi movie on DVD!” he called down the hall as he returned. You sat on the edge in the middle of the couch, watching him lean over to load the DVD into the player. Those damn shorts are giving me heart palpitations, you thought. His body is godly.

Cheeks growing warmer by the second, you slid your cardigan off one shoulder for some much-needed cool air. You caught Goku’s eyes taking you in as he turned around, peeking at him over the rim of your wine glass.

“How’s it taste?” Goku asked, his voice quiet and soft.

You raised the crystal and gave it a swirl before taking a sip. You closed your eyes and breathed through your nose as you swallowed the aromatic liquid, a trail of pleasant warmth growing in your chest.

“Expensive,” you said. You both laughed.

Goku grabbed the remote and sat on your right, his left arm automatically fanning over the back of the couch cushion. Once he started the movie, he exchanged the remote for his glass of wine, taking a sizable swig.

“Hm, it’s sweeter than I expected. The last time I tried wine, I felt like it sucked all the moisture out of my mouth,” Goku said.

You took another sip. “Yeah, this one is nice and mild. I could drink the whole bottle of this,” you said, your head starting to feel pleasantly heavy.

Eager to move closer to your date, you sat back into the couch and tucked your feet up, leaning onto your hip. There was still space between the two of you, but it was Goku’s turn to come to you next.

The movie began with a vibrant action scene, filling the dark room with bright flashes of light. After draining half of his glass, Goku leaned forward and placed it on the coffee table. When he leaned back, he closed the small gap between you, nestling your shoulder under his wing on the back of the couch. A rush filled you immediately, and you happily leaned your weight into his firm torso. At that, Goku moved his arm from the couch cushion to rest across your shoulders. Another pleasing rush of adrenaline raced through you. You licked your lips and sipped on the wine.

“This okay?” he said, barely above a whisper.

You gave a smile and warm mm-hmm before placing your glass on the table and snuggling up to him even more. His thighs spread slightly, making his leg press into yours. Like chess opponents trading moves, you thought about what your next move should be. Your mind flashed back to the last time you saw Goku. That blue tank top had shown off his pecs just right…

Biting your lip, you leaned your head over to rest your burning cheek against his chest. With your ear pressed to him, you could hear his heart beating wildly. The excitement of snuggling up with such a handsome guy was not lost on you, as your heart was purring like an engine. His pecs really did make for a great pillow.

Goku began brushing his fingers softly over your exposed shoulder. You sighed happily and relaxed into his touch.

“You’re comfy,” you said as you worked your arms around his waist. He leaned back, pulling you into him even more.

“Thanks,” he chuckled. “You’re cute.”

“Thanks,” you breathed, heart leaping at the compliment.

As the movie progressed, you paid less attention to it and more to every fiber of Goku’s body. After polishing off your glasses of wine and feeling delightfully buzzed, you curled up even further into him, feet tucked up and thighs falling over onto his. Your head also migrated from resting atop his muscular chest to nuzzling into his neck. All it would take would be a subtle movement to start kissing his neck…

It took a while to muster the courage to make such a bold move. It was only your first date after all. Perhaps this was moving too fast. But he really did seem into you. And you were undoubtedly into him. While gently petting your hand over his chest, you parted your lips, and allowed a steamy breath to escape and tickle his neck. His heart began to drum hard enough for you to feel. You let your lips touch his skin with a feather-light press. Goku’s dark eyes slid closed with your next kiss, the fullness of your gorgeous mouth lighting up each nerve along his neck. You gave a gentle suck to it, causing a sweet sigh to fall from his lips. You trailed your hand up to hold the opposite side of his neck as your tongue began to tease him with tiny kitten licks, then bold circles.

Goku’s hand went from your shoulder to the back of your head, guiding you. You felt his pulse pound as you kissed him. His other hand found your wrist and squeezed.

“Hah,” he breathed. “Need to kiss you.”

You pulled back enough to look at his handsome face. His cheeks were pleasantly pink and his eyes were dazed and dreamy behind his frames. He took your chin with one hand and brought your mouth up to his, finally letting your hot breaths intermingle before he sweetly caressed your lips with his own. Goku’s tongue softly brushed over your lip, silently pleading for yours. You obliged and his tongue invaded to massage yours. Every movement was slow and sensual, tender yet incredibly erotic.

While shifting yourself to face Goku more fully, your leg brushed past something hard, and you were certain it wasn’t just his meaty thighs. Your core heated and revved like a racecar. Unable to keep them suppressed, sighs and heavy breaths from Goku encouraged you to continue kissing.

“W-wait,” Goku said, pulling away slightly. “You aren’t too drunk for this, are you?”

You pulled back further and looked at him, his black eyes full of concern. Your heart clenched. What a sweetheart!

“No,” you giggled, pulling his glasses off and placing them next to your empty wine glasses. “I may be a bit buzzed, but I’m fully aware of what I’m doing. And I don’t intend to stop.”

With that, you climbed over Goku to straddle his lap. Without the black frames, his eyes shone with gentleness, and lust. Using his shoulders for support, you adjusted yourself atop his lap until you found exactly what you were looking for. His lips fell open with a sharp, breathy groan.

“This okay?” you asked as you returned your mouth to his.

Goku kissed you between heated breaths as he gripped your thighs. “Hahh, yeah. Definitely.”

You shrugged off your cardigan and tossed it aside as you made out. One of your hands worked into Goku’s wild hair as his hands wandered up to your hips. He pulled you towards him, chest to chest, and your tight jean shorts gave you both a taste of delicious friction. That made him shove his tongue messily down your throat, like he was slowly fucking your mouth. You whined, grinding your hips down. He responded with a tight squeeze to your ass.

“I’ve… I’ve never really done this whole hooking up thing before,” he admitted.

You scratched his scalp lightly, making his eyes flutter in pleasure. “We don’t have to go any further.”

“But that’s the problem,” he said, kissing your throat. “I don’t wanna stop. You’re really hot and I don’t know if I can control myself.”

You giggled as his lips trailed down to your collarbone, sweet sensations filling you from head to core. “Then by all means, continue.”

“You gotta tell me if you wanna stop, or if I go too far.” He slid the strap of your cami and kissed your shoulder.

“Okay. And you do, too,” you breathed as his fingers softly traced your arm.

Just the touch of his hands was enough to make your eyes fall closed in bliss, and you wanted his big hands all over you. Under your shirt, on your waist, in your shorts…

“Can’t believe you aren’t bringing girls back every night. You’re so fucking hot,” you said as he sucked on your pulse point.

He smirked and took your cheek in in his palm. “I’m not a fuck boy. I don’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings.” He gave you the most saccharine kiss yet, making you melt completely in his lap. “Which reminds me…” He pulled back slightly to look you in the eyes. “This… Isn’t just gonna be a one time thing, is it? Because I really do like you, and I want to get to know you.”

You smiled and put your hands on his gorgeous chest. “I like you too, Goku. And I’d love to get to know you better, and make out with you more, too.”

He gave a glowing smile and endearing chuckle. If he were any cuter, you feared your heart may burst. “Yeah, I really like kissing you. Like, a lot.”

And so you did just that. Desperate yet tender, Goku’s tongue reconnected with yours as your hips began to roll against his. Those shorts of his were blessedly thin, and your tight denim put pressure right on your sweet spot.

“Mm, touch me more,” you pleaded.

“Where?” he whispered.

“Anywhere. Everywhere.”

You took Goku’s lower lip between your teeth as his big hands roamed freely. His thumbs brushed the undersides of your breasts, then boldly over the fullness of them just as your hips hitched against his stiff cock print. A moan ripped from your throat.

You gripped the back of the couch on either side of Goku’s head and started working your hips into a rhythm. It was agonizingly slow for him, just enough stimulation to tease and make him want more. Foreheads sealed together, mouths exchanging breaths, you humped his lap as he tenderly squeezed your tits.

“Can you go faster?” he asked, a desperate tremble to his voice. You grinned and did as he asked while bringing your chest close to his face. He pressed your breasts together and kissed the tops of them, slightly pulling down the top of your camisole. You slid the straps off your shoulders and pulled the shirt down to expose your tits to him. Goku’s eyes shone brightly as they drank you in. “Fuck. You’re perfect,” he praised, circling his thumbs over your nipples.

“Use your mouth.”

He obeyed immediately, placing delicate kisses over one while softly pinching the other. You sighed and rewarded him by continuing to hump him. But he teased you, only lightly lapping your nipple with his sweet tongue.

“Mm, harder,” you whined.

Goku proved to be pleasantly obedient, taking your directions well. He sucked and pulled back to let your tit bounce, then sought your eyes for approval. You groaned in pleasure and mussed his hair, forcing his head back to your chest. One of his large hands supported your upper back, the other smearing saliva over your pert nipple. The telltale tingle between your thighs was beginning to grow steadily. Based on the way he was whining and bucking underneath you, Goku was feeling good, too.

“Damnit, please don’t make me ruin these shorts by cumming in them,” he begged.

You slowed your pace and lifted Goku’s chin. “Where do you want to cum then?”

His pupils wide in awe, he failed to form any coherent words. “I… Well, wha…”

“Aw, did I make you dumb already, big boy?” you patronized.

“I was never that smart to begin with.” His expression was dreamy and he stared up at you like you were a goddess.

You giggled and stood up. “Why don’t you let me finish you off?”

You got on your knees between his, your breasts still exposed and holding his attention. Your soft hands rubbed up his sculpted thighs, sneaking under the hem of his shorts. His eyes met yours as you palmed his aching cock. His perfectly kissable lips hung open as you teased him, and his throaty little moans each sent a pulse straight to your pussy.

As you pulled at the waistband of his shorts, you saw two wet spots of precum had soaked through, a sign of a job well done by you. Goku lifted his hips and pulled down the obstruction to reveal his gloriously sized dick. You almost growled at the sight, feral with desire.

“Holy shit,” you said, eyes devouring the perfect specimen before you. The tip was fat and shiny, begging for your lips to wrap around it. “This still okay?”

He blew a puff of air through his nose. “Of course.”

You wrapped your index finger and thumb around his thick cock, teasing up and down his shaft slowly. He tried to strangle his moan in his throat. You met his eyes as he reclined and you lightly pressed a kiss to his tip, then trailed more kisses down one side of his length. You never would have guessed he could made such sinful sounds from his candy-sweet personality, but each noise weakened you. Eye contact still unbroken, your lips finally enveloped his cockhead, then pulled off with an obscene slurp. One hand on his shaft and the other squeezing his thigh, you circled your tongue around Goku’s beautiful cock. Worshipping it with your mouth and hearing his vocal approval made you clench your leg muscles, stimulating yourself.

“Decided where you wanna cum yet?” you asked as you licked up the underside, making him shudder.

“Ahh… I’m really not picky,” he chuckled.

With that, you started sucked him off with purpose and vigor, eager to hear his whines of pleasure. Your saliva dripped down, making a mess of him as your hand twisted and pulled. You kept constant pressure and pleasure on him, making his moans pitch up. They came in short, desperate bursts and you finally dove deep, taking his entire length down your throat in one swift motion. As you lifted to dive down again, Goku gripped the arm of the couch with one hand and guided your head with the other. While his touch was light on you, you feared his intense strength might rip the upholstery of the poor couch.

“Ahh, almost there!” Goku cried, hips beginning to twitch.

End in sight, you watched his face as you sucked him. A few final strokes and one beastly growl had him shooting hot strings down your throat. His brows knit together tightly, mouth hanging open, head tossing. He writhed in pleasure as you slowed, swallowing every drop he offered you. And it was a lot. You swallowed at least three times, taking more cum each time. Even when your mouth left him, tiny beads formed at the slit of his cock. You smeared them with you thumb, then licked him clean.

“Hope you didn’t mind that I decided for you,” you panted, proud of your hard work.

Goku slumped on the couch wearing a dazed expression. “I can barely move. Damn,” he said with a soft chuckle. “But what can I do for you now?”

Just as a grin started to form, the sound of someone unlocking the front door jolted you both out of your haze. Your eyes grew wide.

“Vegeta’s back already?” Goku whispered, frantically stuffing himself back inside his shorts as you fixed your shirt. You stood quickly enough to make your head spin and grabbed your empty wine glasses to busy yourself. Just as you made it to the kitchen to wash the glasses (and your hand covered in spit and cum), Vegeta shoved his way through the front door. You gave him a soapy-handed wave.

“Hey Vegeta,” you said, hoping he wouldn’t take a long enough look at you to notice your flushed face, neck, and chest. Thankfully, he just gave you a grunt in reply.

“You’re back early,” Goku said, a lilt in his voice.

“Not really,” Vegeta grumbled, barely giving Goku a glance as he passed. His bedroom door shut with a stern thud.

“Sounds like he had a bad day,” you mused.

Goku stood from the couch and replaced his eyeglasses. “Well, yeah. He’s jealous that you picked me over him.”

Your heart screeched to a halt. “Wait. What are you talking about?”

He tilted his head and padded over to you at the sink. “Bulma said that you said you had a better connection with me.”

Your cheeks began to burn. “She told you I said that? But she said one of you asked about me! She told me to guess which one! I couldn’t decide which of you I liked better, so she… That Bulma!” You dried your hands and tossed the dish towel onto the counter, pouting that Bulma had tricked you into making a decision. “Wait, so neither one of you actually asked her about me?”

Goku smiled warmly. “Actually, we both did. As soon as Vegeta got back from his lab, we had an argument about which one of us was gonna get to ask you out. Bulma overheard us and told us she’d figure out who you liked better!”

“But I just flipped a coin! Literally, I couldn’t decide!” you laughed.

“You did? So you didn’t really pick me at all, did you?” Goku asked, looking like a kicked puppy.

You stood on your toes and reached your arms around his neck, pulling him in for a sensual kiss.

“Fate picked you for me. And for the record, I’m really, really glad it was you, Goku.” His hands held your waist as he returned your kiss. When you pulled back, his sugary smile had renewed completely and his eyes sparkled with affection.

“Me too.”

tags: @artof-aristocracy @ghostlylovesstuff

#dbz x reader #goku x you #son goku #goku x reader #goku smut #fuzzfeet #fuzzfeet figure #dragon ball #dragon ball z #all the right buttons

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erinkeifer · 5 months

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i'm very very new to the whole anakin side of fluff and smut and your piece forbidden fruit was what i was looking for!! blew my mind away it was JUST perfect!!! <3

any recommendations from your side/ some of your favourite anakin fics?

thank you for sharing your writing <3

You're so sweet, I'm speechless! Thank you for your kind words, and I'm so glad that my new idea fits so well with your fic taste! It's all my pleasure when it comes to sharing my works with you- i love to make y'all feel good!🩷 Oh, as for recommendations, I could go on endlessly—I literally have hundreds of saved fanfictions that I adore, but I'll try to list ten that I revisit most often:

✰ His price by @justadmiringanakin I'll be honest - it blows my mind with every rereading. It's absolutely one of the most beautifully crafted and emotionally charged OneShots I've come across. ✰As Fate Would Have It by @luminoustarlight And here we have a thread that completely knocked me off my feet from the first encounter, and to this day, I kneel and beg for more. (PS: check Had it up to be here too but bring something cold with u bc it's too hot to handle)

✰Parts Of The Truth Series by @anakinsgirlfriendreal Wonderful and captivating - give it a try, and you won't regret it! The only thing that drives me mad in this series is the note about bad writing - LIAR!!!! [yes yes, I'm talking to you!] bc she's wonderful at what she does! ✰His Master by @madeinnaboo Until I read this fanfiction, I only read about Dom!Anakin, but this version of Sub!Anakin always blows me away. It's just delicious! ✰Yes, Master by @eddiemuonson It's like... I have no words. Every time I read it, I get damn goosebumps. Just in the passage where Anakin makes Reader sure that he's not a good person, I feel like jumping out of the window because of how beautifully it's written. Wonderfully captured conflict within Anakin between good and evil.

Bon Appétit! 🩷

#anakin skywalker #anakin fanfic #anakin fanfiction #star wars anakin #star wars #anakin x reader #anakin skywalker x female reader #anakin smut #recommendations #reading recommendations #ErinKeifer Answers #hayden christensen

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twogyuu · 3 months

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Hello! I was just wondering what your favorite svt fics were? Looking for a good read! Love your writing btw!

THIS IS MY FAVORITE QUESTION - THANK YOU!!! LOL

In no particular order! (As a disclaimer, I do mostly just read for certain members so these recs will not be comprehensive! I will also try not to repeat the ones I have mentioned before.)

Vernon:

Oh Where Did the Party Go? by @dropsofletters -- Hands down one of the best Vernon angst fics on this platform! It's long, but the suspense, mutual pining, and fine line between fact and fiction keeps you engaged the whole time! I will warn you, it's heavy because of the way it approaches social hierarchy, but I think the author does it very eloquently! I still remember staying up super late reading this lol. I will admit I almost cried :')

Pretty Lies by @lonelywhalien22 -- Inspired by (pop/punk) rock music, especially Black Eye, OP does an amazing job capturing the edginess of this genre in this fic!! I've re-read it several times lol. Haven't quite seen Vernon's character be captured in a more stoic/colder persona, but it was done tastefully :) and the character development is just 🤌🏻🤌🏻🤌🏻

work husband by @wondernus -- THERE'S A REASON THIS HAS 3k+ NOTES!!! Okay, I am not usually a fluff reader, so this took me by surprise, but this has to be my absolute favorite Vernon fic ever 😫 It's about two teachers who act like a couple, but won't own up to it. The relationship development is slow and frustrating af, but has me kicking and squealing like a teenager getting her first signed 1D poster in 2014 😭🤧😂 The side characters are also amazing!!! Nu has a way with words that is so poetic too - like, this is who I wanna be when I grow up!!! I could go on forever about this, but if there is one you HAVE to read for Vernon, it's definitely this one.

Soonyoung

The Times We Couldn't Say Goodbye by @husbandhoshi -- I really loved this one because in a sense, it captures all stages of what it means to fall in and out of(?) love (/how sometimes as much as you love someone life is a bitch and just doesn't work out at all)? There's the twist of this being a fantasy story, with Soonyoung being a wizard. It's amazing how the author captures their relationship just ~2k words, but she does and leaves you feeling like a gutted fish flopping on a dock in the best way possible :)

Misc.

In Pursuit of Wedding Bliss by @fantasyescapes17 -- This whole series is incredibly well-written! It's a regency!au centered around social season, where some of the members come to London to meet and find spouses. Each member has their own arc/series, but the way they're interwoven into each others' stories is so clever!!! That said, would recommend reading all of it, bc if you miss one members' story, it might be hard to understand the others. My personal favorite was Jeonghan's - I have read many good Jeonghan fanfics before, but this was just a whole 'nother level of in love LOL. It really captures his flirtatious/devious ways, but also his genuine and caring nature! The main oc is also really refreshing bc she's confident and knows what she wants without being **too** out there, which is nice for this era where most girls are portrayed as one or the other. That said, Mingyu's and Hoshi's were also really good! Just read the whole thing! LOL.

I'll stop here before I bore y'all with my commentary 😅🥲 In general, I share my faves on #twogyuu:recs if you're interested in seeing more! I read for SVT, NCT, and occasionally, TBZ. There might be some BTS fics on there from my early silent reader days, but not so much anymore.

In summary:

Favorite longshot authors: @dropsofletters, @wonwoonlight, @wondernus, @secndlife, and @shuaflix. I've been meaning to check-out @amourcheol and more of @husbandhoshi as well, but just haven't had the time yet 😭

Favorite drabble authors: @wqnwoos, @satoruvt, and @ssentimentals

Favorite smau authors: I don't read these often, but @suhnshinehaos has a couple that I really enjoyed!

Enjoy! Happy reading :)

#twogyuu:recs #not at me just realizing that most of these fic recs are vernon fic recs 🤡#oops #i promise i do read for others too LOL

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muddyorbsblr · 1 year

Text

relinquish the crown: masked desires pt2

Series Masterlist See my full list of works here!

Placement: before the main story, one week after 'to covet her' (except the last portion, that's after the main story 😉)

Summary: You're whisked away and have a fleeting moment with a masked stranger. Come the next morning, you make a startling discovery who you were with during the ball.

Pairing: Loki x Reader

Word Count: 5.6k [y'all get some wine]

Warnings: non-dream smut (!!!) (minors and pearl clutchers, DNI); themes of incest (he's adopted but still); one cuss word

Things to be aware of: really sad chaotic idiot in love Y/N; stupidly oblivious Y/N's back; the smut's in the last scene but they also get a little frisky in the first scene, so there's also that

You didn't know what you were thinking, following your mystery partner out of the ballroom and into the hall where there were already a handful of masked couples doing precisely what you believed the nameless man dressed in your colors was intending. You quickly undid the ties of your veil by your neck, praying that he wouldn't undo the other set of ties and reveal the entirety of your face.

He led you far enough away from the rest of the couples, granting you a semblance of privacy as you hid behind a large column before pressing you flush against the wall and taking the loosened bottom of your veil, slowly lifting it up.

"Wait," you said in a rush. "You can't remove my--"

"I won't, milady, do not worry," he reassured you, lifting only until your lips were revealed. He took a look at the part of your face that was revealed, licking his lips before murmuring, "Beautiful." And then he leaned in, capturing your lips with his in a tender, almost tentative kiss. The contact made a warmth bloom immediately in your lower stomach, quickly evolving into a heat pooling between your thighs.

The moment you let out a whimper his lips were on yours again, as if he were a man starved, and yet he was set on walking the fine line between devouring you and savoring you. Chasing his pleasure but also coaxing your own. When he tilted his head to deepen the kiss, his tongue easily slipping past your lips and almost playfully flicking against your own, you moaned into his mouth.

"What if I pretended you were the woman I loved?" he panted into your ear, pressing fevered kisses on the skin below, by the edge of your jaw. You tilted your head to expose your neck to him, and he took the cue to trail his kisses there, being careful to only kiss rather than bite or even lightly suck.

"Then I suppose whoever she is, she's a very fortunate woman. You'd make her very happy," you panted, your moan traveling down the hall as he licked at the juncture of your neck and shoulder. "So long as you kiss her just like this," you whimpered, punctuating your sentiment with another loud moan.

"Loving her is dangerous." It almost sounded like he was confessing a crime with the tone his masked voice took on. "Salacious. Lecherous. She would never return that love." He pressed his lips to yours once again, groaning into your mouth as his hand curled around your thigh through the slit in your dress, hooking it around his hip and proceeding to grind his trousered hardening erection against your dampened core.

"Oh! She would be a fool to—Oh fuck—She'd be a fool not to love you," you whimpered as he ground his hips against yours. "An absolute fool," you finished with a sigh.

"And what of you?" he asked through gritted teeth as he kept at his movements. He placed tender kisses onto your shoulder and neck, groaning into your skin, tracing your collarbone with his tongue. "Who are pretending you're with tonight?"

"Someone I shouldn't desire," you answered in a heartbeat. "Someone I shouldn't be in love with." And suddenly your reality was cemented. In this hall, confessing your veiled half-truths to this masked stranger, you could see your reality unfolding before you if you remained in love with Loki. Keeping the most passionate part of you hidden for fear of being discovered and thought a lech by not just the entirety of the kingdom, but by the god himself.

But not tonight. Tonight, this stranger could be whoever you wished as he kissed you, caressed you, and drove his hips maddeningly against yours. Tonight, you were with Loki. Free of consequence. Free of damnation. At least until midnight. At least until the Queen's spell wore off.

You both stayed this course for hours. Hands roaming each other's form, as if you were both committing this moment to memory. This moment where two strangers bonded over pretending that the other was their forbidden beloved, that they could be with the one their hearts ached for. Until you once again heard the Queen's voice echoing all around the halls.

"Citizens of Asgard, the veil of anonymity will drop in one minute. If you wish to maintain the cover of your identities, I recommend you disengage from your present company."

"I suppose this is where we part ways," he spoke against your lips. "Might I ever see you again?" He set you back on your feet, hands hovering by your waist in case you were unsteady.

"I suppose you will inevitably. But you wouldn't know if you did."

He flashed you the quickest smile before pressing a final soft kiss to your lips. "So which one were you? The dressmaker? The farm girl? Or the princess?"

"Whichever one you wished I was," you answered playfully as you began to walk back towards the ballroom. "Just as how I pretended you were the man I love." With that, you secured your veil back over the bottom half of your face.

On your way back, you spotted a couple. One with the unmistakable physique of a warrior, blond and perfectly coifed hair. The other with a head of strawberry blonde hair you knew anywhere, regardless of where you were within the Nine Realms. You held back an excited squeal as you surmised that the couple who were still engaged in a tender kiss and a lover's embrace were none other than Fandral and Narda.

At least one of us gets the happy ending, my friend.

This was the first night's slumber wherein you did not have any sensual dreams about the god living across from you. You had to admit after months and months worth of those dreams, to not have them this time around felt peculiar. As if there was something lacking.

You missed those sinful dreams.

Instead last night you simply relived the memories of the ball. Of your encounter with your mysterious nameless partner. Of the way his lips felt as they moved with yours, the way his hands roamed your body as if it was the last time…because it was. Of the wondrous noises you both made as he drove his hips into yours, the feeling absolutely exquisite even with the barriers of your clothing between you.

Perhaps, after all, you needn't seek your grandmother's magical intervention in order to move past your affections for Loki. Perhaps you simply needed to seek out the identity of your partner from the ball. Clearly you were both in the position where you pined for someone you couldn't have, someone you shouldn't have. There was most definitely the tinder of passion between you, though you suspect it could have been fueled by the mystery of it all.

But perhaps it wouldn't hurt to at least try seeking him out. At least as an attempt to begin moving forward with your life. Perhaps once you did, you would soon find yourself able to live with the memories of the affections you once held for the god who currently consumed your waking and dreaming thoughts.

And these moons you spent yearning for him would only feel like a drop in the bucket.

With this newfound resolve, you set about your morning getting ready, practically skipping to your chamber doors and into the hall, just as Loki was exiting his chambers. When he caught sight of you a brilliant smile graced his features as he held out his hand toward you.

But you were too busy fixing your gaze on something revealed by his open door. A suit and a mask, undoubtedly his costume from the night before, displayed on a costume maker's mannequin. Clearly bespoke, for you expected nothing less from the Prince. And the garments were set in black and gold.

The exact same clothes worn by your nameless partner last night. Now no longer nameless. No longer faceless. No longer a mystery.

The stranger you spent the night dancing with, conversing in your twisted little thinking game. The man who pinned you to the wall with his body as you rubbed yourselves against each other. The one who now knew the feel of your lips, the ridges at the roof of your mouth, and everywhere in between.

It was Loki.

And your elation over the knowledge that you now knew what it felt like to be held by him, to kiss him, to be desired by him, came crashing down just as quickly as it arose. Loving her is dangerous. What if I pretended you were the woman I loved?

Loki was in love with someone. And this wretched woman would be a fool to reject him. Soon he would begin to court her, and then marry her. And that would be it. He was already lost to you.

The pain you anticipated, the one you feared, when you inevitably had to face losing him to another was nothing compare to how it felt when the knowledge was finally staring you in the face. Your heart felt heavy and hollow all at once. As if it had hardened into lead and yet also shattered into infinitesimal splintered pieces. Your body broke out in chills despite your blood boiling. You felt as if you were falling from the ground disappearing beneath your feet and yet unable to move from the very space you occupied.

"Darling?" You could hear the distress in the god's voice as he saw the visible unrest on your face. "Y/N, what's wrong?" He framed your face with his hands, thumbs softly stroking your cheeks.

"I erm…I should see Grandmother. I feel unwell," you tried to move away from him, placing your hands on his wrists in an attempt to gently shrug off his hold. Your head was swimming with too many thoughts, too many images that you feared you would come to face soon. Your heart was beating too fast, the air felt too cold, too thin.

"Tell me what ails you, darling. I can heal you." He sounded as if he was pleading with you, frantic and fevered…almost beside himself. Had it been anything else you would have taken him up on his offer, but this was something between you and the Queen. It wasn't like you could ask him to rid your mind of your immoral love for him.

"It's fine. I need to speak with her about some matters anyways. Post-festivities and whatnot." You did your best to sound casual, as if you were not witnessing your world crumbling and fading before you. As if your heart weren't turning into something less than ash.

"If you're sure," he said with a touch of caution. "Can you walk?" He slowly pulled his hands away from you, seeing if you could stand on your own, catching you immediately when you took a step back and stumbled over nothing and picking your weakened form up and into his arms. "Let's get you to my mother, then."

One thing that Frigga knew beyond doubt was that she could find her family anywhere. Regardless of whether they were lost in a crowd or elaborately disguised, she could find her children, and her only grandchild, anywhere in the Nine Realms. Of this she was absolutely sure.

So it was easy for her to spot Loki in the crowd during the masquerade ball, donning a suit set in your colors. Even easier when he approached a woman wearing a draping silken dress set in his colors, who she immediately identified as none other than her granddaughter. Loki's fated. You.

Even behind disguises where you both could have been drawn to any other person in the room, you still found a way to each other. As if your souls themselves were reaching out to its partner, always seeking out its other half and pointing you both in the right direction.

Seeing you two dance together, wearing each other's colors, anonymously declaring yourselves to one another in front of the whole kingdom, warmed the Queen's heart so. She found herself eagerly awaiting the day that would lead to the vision she found when she glimpsed your future. The vision comprised of you two happily married, running into each other in the halls of the palace as you performed your royal duties for the day separate from each other, and in that fleeting moment the smiles grew on your faces and shone so brilliantly as you ran into his arms and kissed him so lovingly for any bystander to see.

As she wondered what your inevitable wedding ceremony would look like, she was startled by the doors to her workroom opening so abruptly, the sight of you weakened in Loki's arms immediately alarming her. "What happened, my son?"

"She said she feels unwell," he answered her. "When she left her chambers she was fine, but then it was as if…a switch had been flipped inside of her. Mother, she's cold." There were tears in his eyes as he spoke of you, the fear evident in his tone.

"It's alright, my son. Set her down on the chaise, I'll tend to her."

"Mother," he choked out. "She will be alright, will she not?"

"Stop worrying yourself, Loki," you said weakly. "I will be as I was momentarily."

A chill ran down Frigga's spine as you said those words. She knew why you were here. You'd come to explore your options. To rid yourself of the affection you'd begun to feel for Loki.

As he set you down on the chaise near the window of the room, she watched with a breaking heart as he gently stroked the top of your head, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "I'll be right outside, darling. I love you." Her eyes widened at his words. Had he confessed? No. If he had, you wouldn't be here, looking the way you did, about to ask her the favor she knew was coming.

"I love you, too," you responded weakly. She could hear the tears you were fighting to hold back as you said the words, seeing the words now for what they were. A confession disguising itself as platonic, familial sentiment. On both ends.

Had she not loved you both unconditionally, she would have voiced her rather harsh opinion of your current predicament. Called you both cowards. Imbeciles. She would have confessed for you both at this very moment if she could, risking the resentment from both of you.

Instead she chose not to interfere, putting her faith in the outcome that despite the favor she was about to grant you in order to give you reprieve from the distress clearly plaguing you, that your love for Loki was strong enough to break the spell she would cast on your mind. Eventually.

"I will take care of her, my dear boy," she said to her son as he kneeled by your side. "But you need to let me work." She subtly tilted her head toward the door, which he responded to immediately with a nod, pressing a final kiss to the back of your hand before standing upright and exiting the workroom. "Now, darling Granddaughter, what truly ails you?"

"You said to take this week to entertain the thought of loving him. I have. And now I hurt. Grandmother, I need them extinguished. Tell me what can be done, I am begging you," you answered her weakly.

"Darling Y/N," she breathed as she knelt where Loki was just moments ago. "Why? He loves you, he just said it himself--"

"It's not enough," you cried, the tears flowing freely down the sides of your face. "He couldn't love me the way that I do he's--" You began to choke on your sobs so she helped you to sit up, rubbing your back as you tried to compose yourself. "He's not depraved. Not like I am. Grandmother, tell me. Am I broken? Cursed? Did I do something that angered the Norns so fiercely that they condemned me to love a man I could never have?"

Those words seemed to open the floodgates for you, now letting out screams of pure anguish as you sobbed in your grandmother's arms. "My dear granddaughter, it's alright. You will be alright, but to perform this spell I must as you again are you absolutely--"

"I kissed him," you cut her off. When she looked upon your face, it was as if your eyes had gone blank. As if you'd put yourself in a trance as you recalled the events. "Last night. At the ball. I danced with a charming man, in a bespoke suit set in my colors. We talked about who we could be. And then he whisked me off into the hall and he kissed me. And there we stayed until the end. Until mere moments before your spell over the palace wore off."

Gods, please tell me that my son did not take his fated for the first time against the wall in the palace hallways, the Queen groaned inwardly to herself. They both deserve better than that.

"This morning I saw the suit worn by that man hanging in Loki's chambers. It was him," you breathed out, tears beginning to fall once more. "And now I know what it feels like to kiss him. To touch him. To be desired by him. And it's ripping me apart to know that I will never know that again."

"Y/N, my sweet granddaughter--"

"He's in love with someone, did you know that?" you said hysterically. "In the hall, when we were in our disguises, he said that he was pretending that I was the woman he loved. That it was dangerous to love her. Fool. Anyone who wouldn't love him in return is a fool," you hissed as your voice began to break. "Grandmother, when he courts whoever this woman is, I will not be able to bear the anguish. I need--" You choked once more, sniffling, and sobbing through your words.

"Oh, my darling girl…"

"I need to be able to live through it. And the only way I can is if these emotions no longer plague me, so please, Grandmother. I am begging you. Help me."

"I will. Y/N, I will help you," she reassured you as she pulled you into an embrace. "But you must know one more thing. This spell will lock away your memories, keep it in a place within your mind that you can no longer reach. But if after this spell is cast, you fall in love with Loki again, those memories will be set free, and it will pain you, Granddaughter. It may feel as if your head is being split in two as you begin to reconsolidate your newly recovered sentiments."

"I don't care, Grandmother. I just wish to be fixed," you answered, your voice completely devoid of strength now. "I will not make the same mistake twice, of that I can assure you."

As she held you, she allowed a tear to escape her, rolling down her cheek and falling to the fabric of your dress. "Very well then, Y/N."

Several minutes passed that you were in the Queen's workroom, with Loki waiting outside, his impatience quite evident as he paced back and forth it was a wonder that he hadn't dug a small trench into the floor yet with his steps. When he finally heard his mother call for him from inside the room, he nearly sprinted into action, walking in with such haste, anxious to see you better after he witness the weariness in you when he carried you in.

"Loki!" you greeted him cheerfully as you ran into his open arms. Much as he was relieved to see you visibly better than you were just minutes ago, he couldn't help but sense that there was something different about you.

"Is everything alright with you now, darling?"

The brightness in your eyes didn't falter as you scrunched your nose at him. "All better now. Grandmother tells me it was simply a bad case of the cramps. I must have overworked myself this week," you answered him with a chuckle. A softness entered your gaze as you looked into his eyes. "Have I thanked you yet for how much you've helped me in all this?"

He fought against the instinct to furrow his brows at you, the confusion seeping into his system. "Multiple times, little Princess," he chuckled, leaning in to press a kiss to your forehead.

When you giggled at his response, a sense of alarm still nagged at him. It was as if there was something missing with you, he just couldn't quite place what it was yet. You threw your arms around his neck and pulled him into an embrace, once again feeling amiss compared to even simply yesterday morning. "Once more wouldn't hurt. Thank you."

"It was my genuine pleasure, darling." He snuck a look at his mother, who was looking at him with undeniably sorrowful eyes. "Why don't you wait for me outside, Princess? I just need to speak with my mother for a moment." He felt you nodding against his shoulder before stepping out of his hold and walking toward the door. "Y/N?" You stopped midway and turned around to face him. "I love you."

Something in his heart splintered as you answered with a carefree smile and a tone that was completely lacking in the depth it had the last time you said the words. "I love you, too."

When the door closed behind you, he turned to the Queen. "Mother, what happened to her?"

She simply answered by saying nothing and walking over to him, pulling him into a warm embrace. "I am so terribly sorry, my dear boy."

"Sorry? What ever for?" Everything in him felt cold, as if he'd lost something he had even been aware he was capable of losing. "Mother, what happened to Y/N?"

"You have to promise me something, Loki." Her voice was rife with command, with frenzy.

"Of course, Mother."

"Never let her go. Fight for her. Until she finds her way to you."

"You sound so confident that she will."

She grabbed his hand and projected an image into his mind. An image of you and him, performing your royal duties and having a fleeting moment to each other as you crossed paths in the palace halls. You ran into his arms and pulled him into a kiss, whispering as you pulled away, "I've missed you, husband."

"That is your future, my Son," she said with a warm smile. "But only if you fight for it."

The image left Loki breathless. Husband. You called him husband. You would become his after all. "I promise," he choked out, unable to find his words as he tried to imagine what the events could be that led to finally being able to call you his as he was yours.

When he left his mother's workroom, he found himself quickly panicking again as he saw you leaned against the wall, head tilted toward the ceiling, your fingers gently massaging your temples.

"Y/N, what's wrong?"

"Hmm?" You quickly stopped your movements and turned your gaze to look at him. "Oh, 'tis nothing. Just a small headache, that's all."

He nodded slowly, trying to remember the last time you complained of your head hurting but being unable to recall any such occasion. This was new. Whatever happened in the workroom with his mother…resulted in that, he was sure.

Trying to clear his mind, Loki held out his hand to you. "Shall we, Princess?" Once again, your smile was a touch too bright, and much too carefree, that it wasn't sitting quite right with the god. But for now he chose not to focus on it, choosing instead to look ahead. To plot several possible courses of action in order to reach the future that his mother saw for the two of you.

The future where he'd finally get to call you his darling wife.

A few years later…

"My darling wife, what ever are you holding?"

You walked out of your closet holding a garment bag, a pensive, almost rueful smile on your face. "Something I remembered." When you turned your gaze and your eyes met Loki's, you could see the expectance on his face, silently urging you to continue. "Do you remember the masquerade ball?"

His brows furrowed as he walked over to position himself behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and pressing a kiss to your cheek. "I do, my love. Why?" He proceeded to press more kisses on to your cheek, then your jaw, down to your neck. He pulled back the side of your dressing gown to trail his kisses across your shoulder, making you bite your lip as you held back a moan.

"You danced with a woman that night." He froze against you at your words. "She wore your colors."

"Y/N, my darling, we hadn't--"

You set the garment bag down on the bed and turned in his arms. "Let me finish," you told him softly, placing your hands on his shoulders. His eyes were rife with unspoken apologies, but he simply nodded at you, causing you to give him a soft smile as you stood on the tips of your toes to place a kiss on his lips.

That, of course, led to another…and another…until he lifted you into his arms as he deepened the kiss, sighing contentedly as your tongues met, flicking against one another. You began to whimper against his attentions once he had your back pressed against the wall and he'd let his hands start roaming under the flimsy garment covering you.

"You're distracting me," you accused half-heartedly, contentment setting into you as his hands caressed your thighs so tenderly. Your breathing hitched as he kissed down the skin exposed by your dressing gown, pushing the fabric aside in order to trace along your collarbone with his tongue.

"Keep going, my dear wife," he murmured against your skin. "I'm listening."

"You're not playing fair," you whined, your chest heaving as you tried to take steadying breaths to calm yourself against your beloved's onslaught of affection.

He stopped kissing your skin, placing your dressing gown back to its previous state, and brought his face inches from yours. So close that your noses were brushing against one another, that you could feel his warm breath on your lips. "My darling, had I ever played fair, I wouldn't have you," he cooed at you, tilting his head to brush his lips across yours briefly.

"I know," you breathed. "I dare not imagine how our lives would have been if you did." You placed your arms on his shoulders, crossing them behind his neck to pull him into a deeper kiss. Even the fleeting moment where you caught a glimpse of what your life would have been if he'd stopped fighting for you, for your love, made tears prickle in the back of your eyes.

You'd been so hardheaded and foolish, nearly lost him as a consequence of your idiocy. And you'd never be able to forgive yourself for it. You couldn't even comprehend that he had so quickly.

"Alright, my love, no more distractions, I promise," he chuckled against your lips, gently placing you back on your feet, arms loosely circling your waist to keep you steady. "Keep going."

It took a few moments for you to recall where you'd stopped your story. "You whisked her away to the hall, where you kissed her. Told her you were pretending that she was the woman you loved."

"You were there?" he asked breathlessly, as if he'd been sucker punched. "You heard--"

"She told you that whoever it was, she would be very happy so long as you kissed that woman the way you kissed her. You told her that loving this woman was dangerous. Lecherous." You could see the emotions swimming in his eyes as you recalled that conversation. The words he'd unknowingly said to you now coming back to him in lurid detail. "And she told you that this woman would be a fool not to love you."

"My love--"

"I was a fool," you cut him off. "I did very foolish things in fear that the love I had for you was not returned. I was foolish to singlehandedly deny us our happiness for years, when all this time--"

"You were pained, dear heart. All that matters is that we are here now. You found your way back to me, my darling wife." He placed his forehead against yours, hands stroking your sides gently in a soothing motion, as if he could already sense that your mind was spiraling down a dark and treacherous path once again. "You don't have to keep going with your memory if it pains you--"

"I want to," you insisted. "I need you to know this, husband." You took hold of his arms, trying to ground yourself. "You asked her who she was pretending to be with that night."

He continued to stroke your sides, comforting you through the memory. Perhaps also trying to ground himself in the process. "I remember," he said breathily.

"And I said…" His hands suddenly stopped, pulling away from you slightly so that he could look into your eyes, the bewilderment so evident on his face. "Someone I shouldn't desire. Someone I shouldn't be in love with." A smile began to spread across his face as he processed your words. "Loki. My darling husband. My love. Open the bag."

He released you from his hold to slowly open the garment bag that housed your gown from that night. He let out an audible sigh of what sounded like relief when he caught sight of the green silk that you'd worn, along with the lace mask at the center of the hanger. "You?" he breathed out as he turned his gaze to you, his eyes so full of wonder and love as the realization sunk in.

"It was me. You were with me that night." You took his hand in yours and he brought it up to his lips, placing tender kisses on your palm, the inside of your wrist, anywhere he could reach. "And I was pretending that I was with you."

His eyes darkened with unadulterated lust as those final words came out, letting go of your hand as his fingers ghosted down the opening of your dressing robe until they reached the ties. With a swift tug, he undid the knot and shrugged the garment off you, leaving you completely bare. You made a motion to return the favor but instead he pulled you to him, pressing his body against yours as he guided you to lie down on the bed.

Once your back laid on the mattress, he placed a soft kiss on your lips before beginning a descent down your neck, his destination quite obvious. "We no longer need to pretend, my love," he murmured against your skin. He placed kisses all across your chest, your back arching into his kiss as he paid special attention to your breasts, his teeth lightly grazing the sensitive skin of your nipples.

"Husband--" you gasped as he continued his descent, biting and sucking a bruise into your hip.

"One of these days I may have to punish you for all those years you denied us, my darling," he murmured once he reached your sex. He placed soft, tender kisses on the inside of your thighs, prolonging your need of him even more. "Once I figure out how I will do it. And how to say no to you. Even when you're begging for release."

All you could do in response was let out a broken whimper of his name as your mind wandered to what he could have planned when that day finally came, followed by a series of pleading moans as his tongue traced and teased along your folds.

"Or perhaps I would grant you your release…over and over again. And I must deny you when you're begging me to stop," he taunted you, a satisfied smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth as you let out a high-pitched whimper. "Do not worry your precious head, my darling. I will not be denying you anything tonight."

Your moans echoed around the room as his lips closed over your clit, sucking and flicking his tongue along the sensitive bundle of nerves as he slipped two fingers inside of you, twisting and scissoring, readying you for him before he curled them upward, stroking relentlessly until your back was arching off the bed as you soaked his digits in your release.

You watched as Loki rose to his feet, quickly undoing the ties on his own dressing robe and shrugging it off, standing before you in all his naked glory. He moved until his lips hovered over yours, and you could feel his hand lining himself at your entrance. "I love you, my darling wife," he said softly before pressing his lips to yours in a tender kiss.

He pushed his length into you in slow, gradual thrusts, each time sinking deeper into you until your hips were flush with one another. You couldn't find it in you to form words, so instead you reached out to him with your mind to deliver your sentiment. I love you, too. My darling husband. My Loki.

A/N: Aaaaaa we finally have a glimpse of happy married life! Now y'all will take that as a slice of comfort because we're getting closer to the wedding and Y/N's essentially back to zero when it comes to her feelings whew--

I still cannot believe what an absolute behemoth of a story this turned into that I'm even looking at it in terms of "season arcs" at this point, but honestly this has been such an amazing experience for me, getting to create all this and seeing how much y'all love the messy chaotic life I've created for these two.

We're far from finished with their story, and I can reveal now that I have a handful of ideas for it instead of just a one-off…this will have a few "What If…?" type detours of the smutty variety. Do with that information what you will 😏

Here's a bonus gif for everyone who stays until the end:

Taglist:

Everything: @lokisgoodgirl @lokischambermaid @imalovernotahater @mygfloki @lucylaufeyson3 @thomase1 @springdandelixn @fictive-sl0th @mochie85 @laliceee @xorpsbane @gigglingtigger @silverfire475 @cabingrlandrandomcrap @vickie5446 @salempoe @lokixryss @sinsandguilt @lokidbadguy @alexakeyloveloki @glitterylokislut @arch-venus25 @freefrommars @littlemortals @cakesandtom @girl-of-multi-fandoms @mischief2sarawr @thedistractedagglomeration @five-miles-over @goblingirlsarah @peaches1958 @huntress-artemiss @lilibet261 @iobsessoverfictionalmen @holymultiplefandomsbatman @lovingchoices14 @avoliax @devilsadvocactus @purplegrrl27 @lokiprompts @sititran @imherefortomhiddleston @ladyjames78 @stupidthoughtsinwriting @kikster606 @evelyn-kingsley @kats72 @ronnieissupermegafoxyawesomehot

Loki: @calumance @severuslovebot @moonlightreader649 @princess-ofthe-pages @ozymdias @eleniblue

#loki x reader #loki x female reader #dark!loki #dark!loki x reader #loki smut #loki x reader smut #loki fanfiction #loki fanfic #loki odinson x reader #relinquish the crown #muddyorbs writes

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