#you don’t know ANYTHING about him besides his appearance and music

[deadghosy]

Okay so I just started reading Hazbin stuff on your blog, but they're AWESOME!! I'd like to request some Catnap!reader headcanons with the Vees if that's possible?

SURE! Thanks for the suggestion anon🦆💗

CATNAP! READER W/ THE VEES FOR A DAY

prompt: one of the Vee’s grabbed you out of now where and brought you to their tower to hang out.

You didn’t know how this flat faced person got your attention…more like grabbed your tail like a untrained child 😭

Vox grabbed your tail dragging you to the Vee’s tower as you sighed, leaving some red gas out of your mouth annoyed.

I feel like somehow you would agree to hang out with the Vee’s as long as you don’t see them in your hellish life forever.

I can imagine a picture of you and the Vee’s taking a selfie, but Velvette is on her phone, Vox is smiling at the camera, and Valentino is trying to blow a kiss at you.

Valentino was trying to cook for the other two Vee’s and you only for the kitchen to burn down as you and Velvette order take out as Vox gets the fire extinguisher. Valentino is trying not to touch the ✨pretty fire✨

I headcannon Valentino finding you attractive because if your tall frame. But also your smile as you just stand there smiling having your hands behind your back.

Imagine Valentino showing off his guns and you’re like. “Who needs guns when I can do this.” You said smiling as poppy gas slides through your teeth and knocks Valentino straight out on the ground when you smirk.

I can see the Vee’s and you going in a shopping spree and you decide to fuck with them and spend almost all their saving worth. Vox knew what you were doing so he stopped you.

I feel like the Vee’s will try to use try to get info on Alastor. But that’s mostly Vox so it would useless as you don’t anything form Alastor other than Alastor hates when you knock him out for bedtime

You literally sat there as Valentino was trying to get you to watch one of his sex tapes…you knocked him out and left the room as you grumbled.

I can imagine if it was sleepover it would chaotic as hell as Vox would be the one to fall asleep first and duct taped to the ceiling as the other snicker

For shits and giggles, Velvette will say you give off Lana Del Rey vibes as you just side eye her saying, “what tf you know about Lana Del Rey?”

You two are the best music buddies of modern genre.

Imagine a cute little headcannon where they all have secret matching bracelets and they let you have one.

Vox brought you on his channel to talk about your weird and cocky appearance. You were just on there to be clowned until you smirked letting poppy gas as the camera man fell breaking the camera.

“WHAT THE FUCK?! You dumbass cat!” “I’m dumb?” You said glancing at the man beside you as you slapped him smoothly with your tail as he had a shocked face touching his cheek.

I can see Valentino trying to get catnap! Reader to wear heels only for catnap! Reader to break them in their hands shaking their head no as they walk away again

I headcannon that the only V that catnap! Reader finds tolerable is Velvette because of her whole personality and not how she tries to bring catnap! Reader down

You definitely have that fun friend troupe with Velvette which is sweet and wholesome.

Velvette and you were hanging out on her side of the tower as she was getting you dressed in [style aesthetic]. You actually liked it as you gave her a thumbs up and grin.

I headcannon Velvette and Vox to try to make you do those dumbass TikTok dance trends with them so they could get #1 on the trending board.

I can imagine catnap! Reader ordering one of tose bug zappers to only electrocute Valentino

Velvette posted you and her doing a fashion walk as Angel was shocked seeing this on her page and shows the staff of the hotel.

The hazbin hotel gang will be like: “why tf is our resident hanging out with them?” As you are just trying to see why people even love the Vee’s.

I can headcannon that Vox forced you into a group chat with them

I can see that every time you hang out with the Vee’s, your phone gets blown up with worried text from the hazbin hotel crew. And then Vox will try to hack or get into your phone to disable your phone.

I imagine you and Vox literally shitting in each other. Like you say “why as you so short.” While he thinks of a comeback to say back to you.

I headcannon that if you and the Vee’s played uno together, you’re rigging it. Cause ain’t no one gonna win today.

At the end of the day, you left their asses as you used your red smoke on them…well idk about Vox cause that bitch has a tv head. You probably gave him a virus to circuit.

BRO WHO TF MADE THAT SMIRK FOR CATNAP?! EHH? Anyways I hope you guys liked this🦆💗

#poppy playtime #poppy playtime x reader #catnap #catnap x reader #catnap! reader #hazbin hotel x poppy playtime #poppy playtime x hazbin hotel #crossover #valentino #the vees #hazbin hotel velvette #hazbin velvette #hazbin hotel valentino #hazbin hotel vox #hazbin vox #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x male reader #hazbin hotel x y/n #hazbin hotel imagine #hazbin hotel headcanons #hazbin hotel vees #hazbin hotel x platonic!reader #Vees x catnap! reader

[luveline]

do you have anything more from office frenemies with james? i just read it and i loved it so much

yes! love u ty

—you and James don’t get along until you kind of, sort of do. fem!reader, 1.5k

James listens to the most obnoxious playlist in the mornings. There’s about a fifteen minute window between when he arrives and when the workday officially starts, which coincides exactly with your window. He often gets the same elevator ride, walks a pace beside you, and decides whether he’s going to let the ‘lady’ go first through the door depending on the day. 

That morning, he’d opened the door widely, grinned at you with music blaring loud enough to make a normal person deaf from his earphones, and let you pass. Then he pretended to stick his foot out to trip you up, pulling it back at the last second. 

Jerk, you think, angry even now as he tucks himself into his desk, his earphones still ridiculously loud. He actually, genuinely, is going to get hearing damage. You’re not being bitter. Human ears aren’t meant for that. 

You click onto the workplace Outlook and open a tab on your desktop. How loudly can you listen to music? you google. A few articles appear straight away that fit your purpose —you drag them each into an empty email. Then, smiling to yourself, you find an article on the negative effects of workplace noise pollution and how this sort of selfishness can affect your coworkers’ mental health and add that at the very top. 

To: [email protected] 

Hi James, 

please find attached a few articles I felt might be important for you to read.

Worst, 

Your unhappy adjacent desk. 

You know he’s received it when he laughs loudly, turning down his music with a few quick clicks on his phone. 

An email comes through to your inbox shortly after.

Hi bestie, 

I’m so so sorry for the noise. Please find attached a few articles I, in turn, felt you might enjoy. 

Best, 

James Potter :) 

He’s attached an irksome variation of articles. Why music can help you get ready for the day. Ten ways workplace friendships are important. Can you really find your soulmate at work? 

You open your personal messaging system. You tend not to use it with James, but this morning he’s winding you up. 

I could report you to HR for that last one, you send. 

He replies quickly. You try very hard not to look up at him from over your desktop. I didn’t mean me. 

You’ll be deaf by thirty. 

Jealous you don’t have such great taste in music? 

Jealous of everyone in the annex. 

Want a cup of coffee?

You meet his gaze finally over the computer, find him already looking at you. You shake your head scornfully. In what world would you ever want him to make you a coffee? He’s never actually offered to make you one before, to be fair, but he’s awful to you so what are you supposed to think? He’ll probably poison it. 

He stands to leave. Remus, the other accountant to complete your trio, arrives while he’s gone with his boyfriend Sirius in tow. They’re also James’ best friends, unfortunately. It makes for some awkwardness. 

“Where is he?” Remus asks you, in the midst of a quick goodbye kiss before Sirius makes his way to his desk further down the office. 

You nibble your lip and give a dispassionate shrug. You hate talking about James. You hate his stupid mess of hair, his reading glasses, his lips when he smiles crookedly and worse when he’s glaring at you. You hate the way he sighs as he clicks his neck, the quick lap he does every other hour complaining of tired legs, the genuine tenderness he shows you whenever you’re sick. You hate James. You don't like to think about him too much lest you get caught, a fish in a net.

Or a fish with a painful hook in its lip. 

“Ah, you’re here,” James says, two cups of coffee in his hand. 

You’re only a little heartbroken when he puts one on his desk and one on Remus’. Didn’t want one anyways. 

Remus grins as James comes up behind him for a rough hug and hair ruffle. “How was last night?” 

“I wish you’d come. Sirius spent all night trying to out drink Marl, you know he can’t, so I spent all night holding his hair out of his face. I wasn’t gonna talk to him this morning, but he was being very pathetic.” 

James laughs. You pretend you aren’t listening to them, pretend you don’t feel left out even if they have no reason to be your friend, clicking at random things on your screen and scrolling through spreadsheets long finished and filed. “You know I couldn’t come, Moony,” —no point starting on their awful nicknames— “what if she needed me?” 

You still. She? 

“James, there’s not much you can do,” Remus says gently. He’s a quiet, soft sort of man, but they’re all so loud about loving one another. “You have to let her… you know.” 

You feel them both looking at you, your gaze steadfast on your screen. 

“Try not to think about it,” Remus says. 

“I’ve been distracting myself,” James agrees. 

Oh, you think. Oh. I’m such a dick. 

“You could go home?” Remus says, putting his face in his hand. “I could cover you.” 

“It’s too much work.” 

“I know, but, you know, I’ll do half, and you’ll only have half to catch up on when you come back.” 

You’re not sure who she is, and you very much still don’t like James Potter, but you're not heartless. He sounds awfully upset, fragility to his voice and a foreign balling of his fist by his hip. “Um,” you say, clearing your throat weakly, “well, with me and Remus, we could cover for you.” 

James’ face is unreadable, looking down at you. “You’d cover for me?” he asks. 

“Your work isn’t exactly hard, James.” 

“But you’d do it?” 

“How long will you be off for?” 

James frowns. “Like, two days?” he says quietly. 

“That’s fine. We can do that,” you say, checking with Remus from around James hip. “Yeah?” 

“Of course,” Remus says quickly. 

James looks at you long and hard. “You’re not kidding?” 

“No, James. Not kidding. You’d do the same for me, right?” 

James leans down to hug you before you can stop him. His arms wrap around your shoulders, a perfectly amicable touch made up of sleeper muscle and the attractive smell of almond oil, nearly sweet, slightly woody. He laughs against your cheek as he pulls away, turning back to Remus for a similar hug. “Thank you. I’ll go tell Danny right now.” He beams at you. His relief is thick as honey, palpable in his warm tone. “Thank you.” 

You can’t look at him very long. 

The memory of his fingers linger, the weight of his arm behind your head. He excuses himself to go talk to your boss, and you and Remus sit in a semi-awkward silence, of which you’re wholly responsible. 

“His cat is dying,” Remus says eventually.

You wince. “Oh, no, really?” you ask. 

“He’s had her since we were kids. It’s really nice of you to do this.”

“I really do think he’d do it for me,” you interrupt. “I’m not, you know, cruel, because we don’t get on.” 

“I know. James knows that too.” 

You want to get defensive. Why does it matter if James knows? But Remus is too nice to argue with, and secretly, strangely, you’d wanted James to know you aren’t mean. You wouldn’t have sent him that email this morning if you’d known, and maybe this is apology enough for that. 

Still, it doesn’t feel right when James returns, gathering his suit jacket from the back of his chair. “Thank you guys, so much. I will bring you the most amazing desserts of all time as a thank you. I won’t even put your mug on the top shelf the next time I wash it,” James promises you. 

You bat aside the rage of knowing he’s the culprit and instead get out of your seat before he can leave. “Uh, James?” you ask. 

He raises his eyebrows. “Yeah?” 

You look at the floor by his shoes. “About earlier…”

James stands subtly between you and the bulk of the office. “You okay?” 

“I just– I’m sorry for complaining about your earphones. I wasn’t trying to be insensitive.” 

“You weren’t insensitive,” he says, “I was being obnoxious. Don’t worry about it, okay?” 

“I–” You hate yourself for all your stammering. “Hope whatever is wrong, that you’re okay. I’ll cover for you for the week if you need me to.” 

“Please stop feeling sorry for me. It looks weird on you. I much prefer you when you’re frowning, you get these super deep wrinkles in your forehead that I just love.” 

You turn away without looking up. “I’m gonna input all your sales information wrong.” 

“And I’m gonna bring you the best donut you’ve ever tasted to say thanks, sweetheart.” 

#james potter #james potter x reader #james potter x fem!reader #james potter x y/n #james potter x you #james potter fic #james potter fluff #james potter blurb #james potter drabble #james potter imagine #james potter fanfic #james potter fanfiction #james potter scenario #james potter oneshot #the marauders #marauders era #marauders

[explicit-tae]

when is the next part of ungodly hour please tell me 😫

right here! introudcing a request that a few people has been wanting to see

Ungodly Hour (8)

Fuck Chaeyoung and Jimin for always being able to figure out when something is wrong with you.

word count: 2.684

“Girl,” Chaeyong’s voice says over the phone. It echos off of the bathroom walls. She’s watching you as you violently brush your teeth and in the process of scrubbing your tongue, a look of disgust on your face. Your phone is leaning against one of the toothbrush holders and she appears visibly amused.  “maybe you’re pregnant.”

You choke, feeling yourself ready to vomit again - this time due to Chaeyoung’s words. Your eyes widen and you stare back at your phone for a moment. Spitting the toothpaste and rinsing your mouth, you turn off the water. 

“Don’t,” you say with gritted teeth. “start that shit again.”

Chaeyoung rolls her eyes. She’s in the process of making herself a sandwich. She shakes her head as she butters her bread. “You missed your period and you’re throwing up. What else can it be?” Chaeyoung was indeed correct. But, your periods were often irregular so that could never be a sign of pregnancy. You’ve gone two months without it before just for it to come on a random Wednesday work shift.

“I’m on birth control.”

“That’s never 100% effective.” Chaeyoung scoffs. “People get pregnant while on birth control all the time.”

Chaeyoung was right again and you could only sigh. You want to blame your sudden nausea on food poisoning. Maybe something you ate just didn’t sit right with you - that’s always a possibility. Maybe you were just getting sick as the seasons changed. Pregnancy would be the last of your options as anything could be possible.

“Let’s not forget that your boyfriend often has to remind you to take said birth control.”

“Shut up.” you grumble, snatching your phone and making your way out of the bathroom. You hated when Chaeyoung was right because it only meant that your mind would be wandering on the possibilities. 

“I can’t be pregnant now. That means I’ll have a Scorpio.” you murmur, crashing down against Jungkook’s bed, silk sheets inviting you in. “There’s enough birthdays in November as it is. It’ll completely ruin the vibe.”

“You should’ve thought about that before you were being a whore on Valentine’s day.” Chaeyoung sing-songs, her sandwich now complete and she munches onto it happily. “Can’t blame you. Jungkook did go all out like always.”

You’re positive you know just where it all began and like Chaeyoung said, Jungkook had to be the dramatic type that made you want to fuck him. The amount of roses you walked into had to be costly and you’re sure he must’ve bought out half of the store alone. The gifts, the home cooked meals along with the low music, champagne…

“Fuck Jeon Jungkook.” you grumble, throwing your phone beside you so Chaeyoung can see your view - the ceiling and she’s positive you were wallowing in self pity.

Truly, Fuck Jeon Jungkook and the way you can never seem to stay off of him.

It took a week for you to decide to get a pregnancy test that you were sure would be negative regardless. You weren’t going to let Chaeyoung’s words of despair get to you - and you were only taking this test to prove to her (and yourself) that you weren’t pregnant and that whatever is going on with you was just a mere sickness.

The brown paper bag sits on the bathroom counter and has been for hours now. Jungkook wasn’t the one to check what wasn’t his and you’re unsure why you’re hesitant on taking it.

It’s Sunday now and that meant that not only was Jungkook here, but so was Namjoon, Hoseok, Taehyung and Jimin. They gather in the living room, movie blasting throughout the space and you walk by without any of them batting an eye.

All except Jimin as he was the only one who ever wanted to humor you and this fake beef you two held for one another.

“Well, well…you finally decided to join us.” Jimin calls, eyes watching as you make your way towards the kitchen. 

“Fuck off, Jimin.”

Taehyung snorts, allowing a few chuckles to be released.

Jimin looks around, wondering why in the world you could possibly tell him to fuck off out of all people. Of course, he didn't because he was Jimin. This causes him to sit forward and tilt his head.

“You look different.” Jimin notes, eyes taking in your appearance. This causes Jungkook’s head to turn to see whatever it was that Jimin saw.

Jungkook’s eyes being on you causes goosebumps to litter your skin and you desperately want to tell Jimin to fuck off again, but that wouldn’t do any good.

“You look…healthy.” Jimin’s eyes begin to squint a bit, his head tilting to the other side.

“Healthy?” you snicker with a roll of your eyes. “What the fuck did I look before?”

“Ugh, Y/N, shut up.” Jimin stands, making his way around the couch and towards you. You can feel Jungkook’s eyes on you and his friend, but he remains silent. “You look…dare I say glowy.”

You click your tongue inside your mouth. Jimin’s tone is different, almost as if confused. His eyes study you closely.

“If I didn’t know you, Jimin, I would say you’re flirting with me.” you turn away and go towards the box of pizza on the counters. 

Jimin cackles. “As if I would go for anyone like you.” 

“That’s a lot coming from a man like you.” you bite back. “I know exactly what girls you like.”

Jimin swallows back his words, a soft tint to his cheeks. No one was ever going to let him live down what that bitch said. “I pay for Onlyfan’s once and suddenly I’m the one being laughed at.” he grumbles to himself.

“I actually like her. She humbles you and it’s exactly what you need.” you open a box of pizza - pepperoni. You grab at it and inhale, the smell reaches your nose and instantly you drop it right back into the box.

Jimin’s eyebrows furrow at your actions, watching you closely. His arms begin to cross and it’s as if alarm bells were going off in his head. 

“You little slut.” Jimin smirks.

Your stomach churns and you can feel the increase of saliva inside your mouth. You let out a shaky breath.

“You…that’s why you look so glowy. It’s too soon to look like this now…” Jimin speaks - mainly to himself. “You’re pregnant, aren’t you?”

It happens entirely too fast and maybe this was just Jimin’s karma for annoying you constantly. You appear to be stuck, completely frozen in place, when you vomit entirely onto him. The man screeches and gags at the warm vomit hitting his chest. 

Jungkook is on his feet immediately, coming to your side. He places a hand onto your back, a look of concern on his face. “Y/N? Baby, are you okay?”

“What the fuck?!” Jimin hisses, eyes wide with disbelief. “I’m the one with stomach acid on me! Can someone ask if I’m okay?”

“This isn’t about you right now.” Jungkook waves him off. “Come, let’s get you cleaned up.”

“She…oh wow.” Jimin watches in disbelief as Jungkook ushers you away. His shirt sticks to him sickeningly. 

Hoseok is the first to laugh, shaking his head at Jimin. 

“What just happened?” Namjoon questions.

Now you feel like crying out of embarrassment as Jungkook brings you into the bathroom. “Do  you still need to throw up? Was it something you ate earlier?” he asks, his mind going on a thousand different possibilities on how you could be sick right now. 

“N-No, I’m fine.” you murmur, pushing yourself away from him and going to brush your teeth again. Your body is hot - mainly due to humiliation of having vomited on Jimin. You wouldn’t be this embarrassed if it was just Jimin there, because well, fuck him. But the other’s…

You groan, scrubbing the taste of vomit out of your mouth.

Jungkook watches closely. 

“You’re not fine. Are you sick?” he questions. “You probably need some medicine.”

Jungkook looks around the bathroom for a moment, his eyes dropping on the brown paper bag that’s folded in half. He looks at it for a moment. “Is this medicine you got earlier or-”

“No!”

It isn’t your intention to snatch the bag out of his hands the way you do. Jungkook is taken aback by your actions, eyes widening slightly. He takes a step back, apologetic about touching something that wasn’t his. 

“I-I mean-”

“It’s okay.” Jungkook shakes his head. He swallows. “I’m…going to clean up out there. I’ll be back.”

Jungkook leaves the bathroom and now you feel worse than before. You shut off the water and groan.

You don’t want Jungkook to think that him trying to help was a bad decision. The paper bag is crumbling in your grasp and it’s a sign that you can no longer put off the contents on what’s inside of it.

You were a grown woman and a little pregnancy test shouldn’t scare you. You’ve dealt with tougher scenarios and this was outside of your character. Your mother didn’t raise you to be a scared bitch.

So you took the test - ripping the bag open entirely and then the rectangular box. It happens all under a minute and you realize this is the first time you ever took a pregnancy test.

You placed the top onto the test and put it on top of the brown paper bag as you await for what it says.

“Five minutes…” you murmur to yourself.

Jungkook doesn’t expect to see you so soon. He’s cleaning up a bit of vomit from the floor when you enter the kitchen. He had already managed to get everyone out of the home as Jimin ripped off the shirt and hurled it into the trash before exiting himself. He offers a smile your way. “Feeling better?”

“I’m such a bitch.” you sigh with a shake of your head.

Jungkook snickers. “What do you mean?” he asks. “You shouldn’t talk about yourself that way.”

“Shut up and stop being so nice.” you grumble. “I shouldn’t have acted that way in the bathroom. I’m just…” you inhale deeply. Your mother would have surely given you a mouth full if she saw the way you treated her precious Jungkook.

Jungkook continues to clean the rest of the mess before turning back to you. He notices you’re completely still, watching his every move. 

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Jungkook takes a few steps closer to you. “You got a fever or something?”

Jungkook’s hands are soft but a bit cool to the touch. He touches your forehead and rubs it down towards your cheek. 

“You don’t feel warm.” Jungkook comments. “I…” you trail off, unable to shake the look of Jungkook’s eyes off of you. “...my mother didn’t raise a scared bitch.” you repeat the same words aloud and it causes Jungkook to laugh.

“What do you mean-”

“I might be pregnant.” you interrupt him, needing to get the weight off of your shoulders. And you’re surprised that it did. You exhale with a raise of your brows. “That was easier than I thought it’d be.”

You look Jungkook in the eye, his doe ones staring intently back at you.

“I took a test.” you continue. “That’s what was inside the brown paper bag and why I snatched it the way I did.”

For once Jungkook is silent and it causes your stomach to churn again - this time with nerves. He’s so silent that you’re unable to read his expression.

Standing in front of him becomes a bit awkward and you’re anxious to get out of this situation entirely. 

“I’m gonna go…” you go to move yourself and this is what causes Jungkook to snap himself back into reality.

“I was processing your words.” Jungkook shakes his head, dropping his hand from your cheek. “Sorry…” he murmurs, blinking a few times. “...How long have you…suspected it?”

You take a deep breath then scoff. “I’ve been in denial. With Chaeyoung and Jimin it’s hard to not face reality.”

Jungkook hums, he suppose that’s why you threw up on Jimin so suddenly.

“I can’t read you.” you murmur, avoiding Jungkook’s gaze. “You’re usually…more readable.”

“Would you be upset if you were pregnant right now?”

Now that you had admitted to him that there was a possibility of pregnancy, he wants to be open with you. He wants to hear your thoughts and feelings about the situation. 

“It’s not ideal.” you shrug your shoulders, pondering on the question. “Would you?” “No.” Jungkook admits. “Of course not. I love you.”

You sigh. Fuck Jeon Jungkook and how understanding he was.

“But I also know this isn’t something you want…” Jungkook lets his hand touch your cheek once more and now you allow your eyes to meet his. 

“Well, duh.” you scoff. “I still haven’t met your parents. They're going to think I’m a whore if I just show up pregnant.” you’re only half joking but just the thought of meeting his parents and having to deliver news of a pregnancy just sounded backwards.

“They wouldn’t!” Jungkook insists. “My mom’s been dying to meet you.” he admits. He had to convince his mother countless times to not just show up randomly at his home and take matters into her own hands. “I've just been waiting for you to be ready. There isn’t a rush.”

Jungkook’s thumb traces the outline of your lips. He smiles down at you.

“Stop smiling. You’re supposed to be…”

Jungkook furrows a brow. “Suppose to be what? Mad?” he snorts - it’s almost as if you didn’t know him entirely. He had already planned the wedding in his mind and exactly how many kids he wanted to have with you (if you allowed). 

“Well I wasn’t expecting you to look so fucking excited, either.” you hiss, lightly pushing at his chest. “The test can be negative, you know. It could be fatigue or my blood sugar could be high or low…”

Jungkook nods his head at your words, listening to you. “Or, you can be pregnant,” he states. “Either or, I want what’s best for you. One step at a time.”

You nod your head at him and allow your cheek to nestle into his palm. 

“We can check together.” Jungkook leans closer to you, his nose tickling yours. “And we’ll do what we need to do from there.”

Jungkook pecks your lips in a comforting kiss. It’s weird to see how domesticated the two of you are - how comfortable. You would’ve never seen yourself entertaining someone like Jungkook a year ago, but now you and he are together constantly. You feel at home when you’re  around him; at ease when you’re in his warm embrace. Your heart is full whenever you’re around him and it yearns whenever you’re away for too long.

Fuck Jeon Jungkook and the way he has made you soft for him; this wasn’t suppose to be. You were supposed to finish college as independently as possible and focus on a career until you decided you were ready to entertain anyone.

How the tables truly turned.

“I’m scared.”

Jungkook wraps his arms around you, chin resting on your shoulder. The test is a few feet away and none of you can see the answer on it just yet.

“This is the first time you’ve admitted you are scared.” Jungkook teases. “I thought your mother didn’t raise a scared bitch.”

“Fuck you.”

“I did and this is why we’re in this predicament.” Jungkook retorts coolly. “We’ll check together, okay?”

“Okay.” you nod your head. 

Jungkook and you step further into the bathroom and you grab the test. You turn around to face him, looking into his anticipating eyes. “So…do we both look or do I look and tell you or-”

“You’re procrastinating again, baby.” Jungkook places his hand on top of yours. “We’ll look together.”

Jungkook’s eyes lowers to the test in your hands just as yours does. The test tightens in your grasp as you look down at the letters on the small screen.

See the Future (Final Part)

@minaamhh @suciedad-divina @satisfied18 @y2k5bby @petalsofink @swga-ficrecs @rrrapmonste-rr @xtrataerrestrial @bangctans @danielle143 @taekritimin123 @thelilbutifulthings @jksjx @tasha-0795 @busanbby-jjk @joonlover1207 @hollowtree11 @amberpanda99 @parkinglot-nights @variety-is-the-joy-of-life @hoseokteardrop @jingerbreadoutofstock @subtaegguk @ultimatebasura

#ungodly hour #ungodly hour drabbles #jungkook x reader #bangtanwritershq #btswritersclub #btswritingcafe #jungkook imagine #explicit-tae #jungkook established relationship #jungkook x you #jungkook fluff

[sailorholly]

Stressed

Summary: Spencer’s been in a bad mood lately, you help him feel better.

Pairing: Season 5 Spencer Reid x F. Reader

Warnings: Smut. Minors DNI. 18+ ONLY.

W/C: 1.4k

See my Masterlist here

“Who drank the last of the coffee and didn’t make another pot?” Spencer propped up on his cane, asked the crowded police station. One of the officers set his mug down beside the case files spread on the table before him.

“I did. I’m sorry, kid. I didn’t know it was a big deal.” Spencer scoffed. “You didn’t think that anyone else would want coffee, when we have barely had three hours of sleep?” The officer looked stunned, obviously caught off guard by the grumpy FBI agent.

“Kid, like I said, I’m sorry.” Spencer limped over to an empty chair, taking a seat. “Don’t call me kid. It’s Dr. Reid to you.” Hotch shot him a warning glance. “Reid.” Spencer dropped his gaze. The officer put his hands up in defeat, muttering under his breath as he walked away.

You wait until the room clears before going over to Spencer. You walk slowly as if you were approaching a wounded animal. “I started a fresh pot just for you. I’ll bring you a cup when it’s finished.” You smile at him, but he doesn’t return it. “Thanks.”

You can tell he’s still upset. He has been moody for a few weeks. Even though you all had agreed not to profile each other, the team had been taking guesses about what was wrong. You still didn’t have an answer. Hotch tried to speak with him privately, but he wouldn’t open up.

At the end of the day, everyone was glad to be back at the hotel. It wasn’t like the comfort of your homes, but at least it was a place to lay your head down. You all had been running on fumes.

You took a shower, thinking of every detail of the abduction. Something didn’t make sense to you, and you couldn’t get your mind off it. You dried your hair, deciding to knock on Spencer’s door to talk through it.

If anyone could help you figure it out, it was him. He answers the door, looking grouchier than before. “I’m trying to sleep. What do you want?” He snaps. You take in his attire. He’s wearing a cardigan over his button up and dress pants, the same outfit he had on earlier.

You frown, pushing your way into his room. “Since when did you start sleeping in your work clothes?” He closes the door, gripping his cane as he walks toward you sitting on his bed. He sits beside you, keeping his distance.

“You’ve been a real asshole lately, Spencer. It’s so unlike you. Is there anything you want to talk about?” He looks away, avoiding your face. “You can tell me anything. I won’t judge you. I’d love to help you, especially if it gets you out of this bad mood.”

You watch as he considers your words. “Promise you won’t tell anyone?” He asks quietly. You place a hand on your heart. “Cross my heart and hope to die.” The faintest of smiles appears, the first one you’ve seen in a while.

“Now spill.” He sighs. “I am unbelievably stressed. My mom is on a new medication, and she’s giving her doctors a hard time. I got a new neighbor and he plays loud music late at night. I’ve asked him to stop, and he does for a while. Until I go on a case, when I get back, he’s started again. And I’ve been getting these headaches that won’t go away.”

He rubs his left eye, shoulders sinking in relief after he confessed. “Well, all those are valid reasons to be stressed. You really need to get laid.” You giggle, elbowing his side. “I’ve tried.” You stop laughing. You weren’t expecting a sincere answer. You were only joking.

“Wait, you’ve tried to have sex, but can’t find a partner?” You ask, a little surprised. “Yeah, I think it’s my awkwardness paired with the cane. It freaks them out. They probably think I’m an unsub.” He pushes his hair behind his ear.

“I like the cane.” You admit. “Really?” He raises an eyebrow. “Yeah! I think it’s sexy. Don’t take this the wrong way, but couldn’t you just take care of yourself?” You wince. You were having the most awkward conversation of your life with your favorite coworker.

“I tried that. But I couldn’t finish. My mind would race with a million thoughts. It kills the mood.” You lower yourself to the floor, getting on your knees in front of him. “Wha.. what are you doing?” Spencer asks nervously, his voice raising.

“Helping.” You state matter of factly. You unbutton his pants, pulling the zipper down. You’re careful when you tug his pants and underwear down his legs, going slowly so you don’t hurt him. He takes a deep breath when you wrap both hands around his hard cock.

You lower your head toward his lap, taking him between your lips. You suck slowly, waiting for his reaction. He lets out a shaky breath when you take him to the back of your throat. You suck harder now, saliva dripping down your chin.

Spencer watches you intently. He can’t believe this is happening. All the nights he had laid in bed, imagining this exact scenario as he pleasured himself. His biggest fantasy was playing out before him. He grips the white comforter on the bed with one hand, the other holds your head in place as you bob up and down on him.

This was too much. He was going to come, and he hadn’t seen you naked yet. “Come up here, I want to touch you.” He sounds almost like he’s begging. You release him, standing to remove your clothing. “Take everything off.” You command as your panties hit the floor.

He wastes no time, throwing his cardigan and shirt beside your discarded clothes. He didn’t even unbutton his shirt. You didn’t know how he managed to get it off. “Lay back against the pillows.” He scoots until his back hits the cushiony wall. You climb on top of him, legs positioned around his hips.

You start grinding against him. The head of his cock rubbing against your clit. He tilts his head back, greasy curls splayed out on the pillows. You pepper kisses against the sensitive skin of his neck, while large hands cup your breasts.

He tugs at your nipples, rolling them between calloused fingers. You feel your arousal dripping down your thighs. You couldn’t remember a time when you were more turned on. “I want you to sit on my face.” You notice the faint blush rising on his cheeks as he said the words. “You sure?” He nods his head, confirming. “I want to taste you.”

You place your thighs on either side of his head. He kisses your inner thigh, working his way up to where you need him the most. His curious tongue meets your center, collecting your arousal and bringing it to your clit. He moans, the sound vibrating against you. You clamp your legs tighter around his ears, letting him devour you.

His tongue swirls around you expertly. He could be writing in Morse Code for all you know. You reach for the headboard when his lips wrap around your most sensitive spot. The suction and heat of his mouth tip you over the edge. You reluctantly remove yourself from him, still feeling needy.

“I need you inside of me.” You kiss above his belly button and his cock twitches. “I can’t get on top because of my leg.” He points to the offending appendage like you had forgotten about it. You beam at him, as you you straddle him once more. “I got this.” You line yourself up with his hard length, sinking down on him.

He gasps when he fills you all the way. You move yourself on top of him, placing your hands on his shoulders for support. You rock your hips back and forth, letting your head tip back when he brushes your g-spot. You call his name, tilting your hips so he hits it again.

“You like that?” Spencer asks, gripping your hips, working your body with his. You feel the pressure building inside you. It’s unbelievable. You’re lucky if you get off once during sex, and your second orgasm is quickly approaching. Spencer feels you clenching around him.

“Already?” He is in complete awe of you. You were even better than he imagined. “Oh God, Spencer! I’m so close.” His hands hold you harder. He sits up, pressing his chest flush against yours. Your peaked nipples rub against his chest, adding fuel to the flames.

He removes a hand from your waist, bringing it down between you. The pad of his thumb drags across your clit, making you writhe with pleasure. He looks down at where you’re joined, admiring the view. “You’re taking me so well, Angel.” He swirls fast circles against you, and your orgasm rolls over you in waves.

Spencer watches as you come undone. He follows closely behind you, a string of curses leaving his lips. You bury your head in the crook of his neck, breathing heavily. “I need to be in a bad mood more often.” Spencer thinks out loud, his lips curling upward into a smile.

Tagging some people I think would like this.

@cindylynn @potter-puff007 @multifandom-worlds @mochie85 @wheredafandomat @cynbx @lamentis-10 @megharat-barnes @anonymously-ominous @kats72 @vivian-555 @itzdarling @emarich7 @nomajdetective @aelinismyqueen @wildernessflora @academiareid

#spencer reid #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fic #spencer reid x fanfiction #spencer reid x female reader #spencer reid cm #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid criminal minds #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x fem!readr #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid x fem!reader smut #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid self insert #stressed

[drudyslut]

— summary: you attend a party that Rafe invites you to and things take a bad turn but Rafe is there to help you.

— pairing: football star!rafe cameron x cheerleader!reader

— warnings: alcohol consumption, sloppy drunk!reader, rafe takes care of you, mentions of sexual harassment (not from rafe), almost smut but it doesn’t get that far.

part one

It was Saturday night, and you were sitting in front of your mirror getting ready for the party Rafe had invited you to.

“And you’re sure about this? I mean.. I thought you didn’t like him?” Your roommate, Jessica, says. She’s sat on your bed, legs crossed as she watches you intently.

“I don’t like him, but he seems nice enough, and it’s our first college party! It should be fun, yeah?”

Jessica just nods her head slowly, still unsure but ultimately agreeing, “Okay. Okay fine! But any signs of trouble we’re out of there right?”

You look up at her through your mirror, giving a small smile, “Yes, we’ll leave at the first sign of trouble, but he said it’s nothing crazy, so it should be fine”

-

“Nothing crazy huh?” Jessica says, a frown on her face when the two of you pull up to the house.

There were people everyone, crowding the front yard all the way into the house. The sound of music blaring from inside filled your ears, and you started to second guess the entire idea.

You quickly grab your phone from the cup holder in your car, pulling up Rafe’s contact and sending him a text to let him know you were here. Hopefully he’d see it and come rushing to your side, not that you needed him, but it’d be nice to at least know one other person here.

Your phone vibrates, signaling a response from Rafe and you quickly open it.

Cameron: Hey! I’ll be right out there

You sigh, locking your phone and turning the key, shutting your engine off. You quickly open your door, stepping out into the chilly fall air and inhaling deeply.

Jessica rounds the car, standing beside you and wrapping her arms around herself as the two of you wait on Rafe to make his appearance. You glance around the yard, taking in all the drunk college students. You feel yourself begin to get slightly nervous but before you have any time to dwell on it, Rafe’s voice makes you snap your head in his direction.

“Hey! You made it!” He says, a wide grin on his face as he slings an arm around your shoulders.

You give him a small smile, “Yeah, I- I thought you said this wasn’t going to be anything big?”

He chuckles, letting his head roll to the side with the cutest little apologetic expression you’d ever seen, “Yeaaaah, sorry bout this, Brax went a little overboard with inviting people. He’s twenty-one today, so he decided we needed a shit ton of people in our house”

You snap your head in his direction, narrowing your eyes at him, “Y-Your house?” You ask, unsure why it was so surprising to you that he lived off campus.

“Yeah, me and a few of the guys from the team live here” He responds with a smile.

You open your mouth to speak, but Jessica clearing her throat makes you close it quickly. You’d completely forgotten she was there.

“Oh shit, Rafe, this is my roommate, Jessica”

Jessica gives her best fake smile, holding her hand out for him to take. He removes his arm from your shoulders, firmly grasping her hand and shaking it, “Nice to meet you” He says softly, “So, should we go inside?”

You smile up at him, his blue eyes sparkling as he stares down at you, “Yeah, lead the way!”

Rafe nods, turning on his heel to make his way inside the house. You move to follow him but are quickly stopped by Jess grabbing your wrist, “Y/N, i’m not sure about this”

“It’ll be fine, Jess! Stop worrying so much”

Jessica scoffs, “For someone who ‘doesn’t like him’ you sure are trying really hard to be around him. I mean, c’mon, this party isn’t you”

You roll your eyes at her, annoyed that she was trying to control you, or whatever it was she was doing, “Jess, stop! I don’t like him, he’s just a friend! Now are you coming or not?”

She lets your wrist go, looking behind you and staring at Rafe who was stood on the stairs, watching the interaction unfold, a concerned look on his face.

“I- Whatever. Lets go, your boy toy is waiting”

You roll your eyes at her and quickly turn on your heels, rushing to Rafe’s side again. He holds his hand out for you, which you gladly take and let him pull you inside.

The house was filled with people, hot bodies crowding the length of the living room, girls and guys drunkenly dancing around the room. Rafe pulls you into the kitchen, Jessica following closely behind.

“So what’re you ladies drinking?”

You release his hand, taking a step toward the counter and grabbing a bottle of vodka. Rafe laughs lightly, “Going straight into it, I like it”

He grabs two shot glasses off the counter and rinses them thoroughly in the sink before sitting them down and grabbing the bottle from your hands. He pours even amounts of the clear liquid into the small glasses and hands you one first before turning to Jess and offering her the second one.

She purses her lips into a thin line, holding her hand up to decline, “No thanks, someone has to get her home tonight”

Rafe chuckles, nodding his head, “I respect it”

He turns to face you again, and you give him a small smile, “I’ll take one with you” He says.

“Okay, one the count of three?”

“One, Two, Three” He counts down, clashing his glass with yours before the two of you down the harsh liquid. You shudder as it goes down, the burn making your stomach do flips, your face turned into a look of disgust.

“Ah fuck, I forgot how bad that shit is”

Rafe can’t contain the laugh he lets out, his arm finding your waist and pulling you into his side. You feel your stomach drop, butterflies erupting from his touch. “You don’t like him, he’s just a friend, it’s just the alcohol hitting you fast, thats all” You say in your head, trying to remind yourself that this was nothing.

“Want something that goes down easier?” Rafe asks, snapping you from your thoughts.

“Nah, let’s do some more shots, I haven’t been drunk in so long, I need to let loose tonight”

You hear Jessica scoff from behind you, but you ignore her. You weren’t going to let her ruin your night, and she wasn’t your mother, you were allowed to have some fun.

“You got it, princess” Rafe says, making your heart skip a beat at the nickname.

He grabs the bottle again, carefully pouring each of you another shot. You both down the liquid quickly, the burn not letting up just yet. Rafe is about to pour you another when a few guys approach the three of you.

“Cameron! We’ve been looking for you. We’ve got ne-” The unknown boy cuts himself off, his eyes traveling the length of your body, causing Rafe to tighten his grip on your waist. “And who is she?”

“This is Y/N. Y/N, this is Josh, Braxton, and Jackson”

You give them a small smile, waving your hand at the three boys in front of you, “Hey, nice to meet you. I’m assuming you’re the birthday boy?” You say, pointing toward Braxton.

He smiles widely, “The one and only. Braxton Underwood, pleasure”

You extend your hand out for him to shake, but he softly grasps your hand and brings it to his lips, leaving a soft kiss on the skin and making Rafe shift uncomfortably.

Rafe clears his throat, “Alright, we’ll find you guys later”

The three guys laugh and nod their heads. You watch as they disappear into the crowd of people, the one Rafe introduced as Josh turning and throwing a wink your way before he disappears into the sea of bodies.

“Sorry about them” Rafe says. He removes his arm from around your waist, and turns toward the counter, pouring the two of you another shot and handing you your glass.

The two of you down the shots fast, and you’re starting to feel the effects of the liquor hit you hard, “It’s okay, they were nice!”

Rafe smiles, placing his arm around your waist again and pulling you into his side. You surprisingly find yourself wrapping an arm around him as well and resting your head on his chest.

“You wanna be my partner for beer pong? That’s why they came up to me, i’m supposed to play with Jackson, but i’d rather play with you.. If you’re down”

You lift your head slightly, “Yeah sure. I can’t guarantee i’ll be any good though”

Rafe chuckles, “I’m sure you’ll be great, let’s go”

-

A few hours pass, and you’re super drunk at this point. You and Rafe had carried the beer pong table for two hours before he got bored and decided he wanted to move on, so the two of you had made your way onto the back porch.

You were sat in his lap, giggling and running your hand through his hair as he rubbed small circles on your thigh. You noticed earlier in the night all the dirty looks you were being given by other girls, but you didn’t care, you were enjoying yourself, and enjoying Rafe’s company.

“I-I have to- to use the restroom” You slur out.

“Want me to help you inside? You’re a little drunk” Rafe asks, a slightly concerned look on his face as he watches you push yourself from his lap and begin stumbling toward the door.

“I-I’m o-okay! I’ll be right b-back”

He nods his head, but his eyes never leave your body as you stumble inside and toward the hallway that leads to the bathroom.

Jackson approaches Rafe when you disappear and plops down onto the chair beside him, “Dude, she’s so fucking sexy”

Rafe rolls his eyes, taking a sip from his beer and nodding his head, “Dude, really?”

“What? She is! You tryna swoop in on that or can some of us try?”

“Was that a serious question, Jax? Obviously i’m into her”

Jackson holds his hands up in defense, “Alright alright, I got it. You might wanna tell that to Josh though, he’s been eyeing her all night”

Rafe snaps his head in his friends direction, eyes narrowed as he tries to take in what he’s just been told, “Josh needs to leave her the fuck alone”

Rafe’s mind begins racing, wondering what was taking you so long inside. He trusted his friends, they wouldn’t ever do anything stupid, would they?

He quickly stands from his spot and begins to make his way inside but a girl grabbing his wrist stops him.

“Where you going Cameron?” She asks, voice low and flirty as she bats her lashes up at him.

Rafe coughs uncomfortably, “Going to check on Y/N”

She rolls her eyes, “Oh. Her. Why are you with her? She’s so… Not the type of girl I see you with”

Rafe pulls himself from the girls grip, shaking his head and walking inside without another word to the girl. He hears her muttering curses under her breath but he doesn’t care, his main concern at the moment was you, and if you were okay.

He slowly makes his way down the small hallway, his head scanning the length of the hall as he searches for you. Once he reaches the bathroom, he softly knocks at the door, “Y/N! You okay?”

He hears a whimper from inside and tries turning the knob, but the door was locked. He jiggles the handle a few more times before knocking harshly, “Y/N! Open the door!”

He hears the low groan of a male and his body tenses, you couldn’t be doing anything with anyone else, could you? You were so drunk there’s no way you’d willingly just do something with anyone right now.

Rafe’s mind automatically goes to the worst, causing him to step back and kick the door in. His body goes tense, his fists balling up at his sides when he sees Josh, someone who was supposed to be his best friend, hands running up your shirt as you’re weakly trying to push him away from you.

“Josh! What the fuck? Get off of her!”

Josh chuckles darkly, pushing himself off of you and facing Rafe, “Calm down, Cameron. She’s fine! Right baby, you’re fine”

You mutter out a weak response, tears falling down your face as Josh just laughs. Rafe takes a long step toward the two of you, gripping Josh by the collar of his shirt and pulling him toward him, “You can either walk the fuck away, or I can kick your ass, your call”

Josh pushes Rafe off of him, an evil look on his face, “Whatever man, she’s never going to want you, just keep that in mind”

Rafe rolls his eyes, watching as Josh dips out of the bathroom. He makes sure he completely disappears before he softly shuts the door and rushes to your side. You had curled into yourself, back pressed against the wall and face buried in your knees as you sobbed.

“Hey, hey. You’re okay” Rafe says softly as he bends his knees and lowers himself. He wraps his arms around your shoulders, resting his head on your back as he rubbed the length of your back with his fingers.

You flinch under his touch, making him pull back quickly. You lift your head, red, swollen tear filled eyes finding his soft blue ones. You instantly feel calm when you find his eyes, flinging yourself toward him.

He catches you in his arms, letting you wrap your arms tightly around his broad shoulders, face buried in the crook of his neck as you continued to cry silently.

“Th-Thank you! Thank you Rafe”

Rafe pulls you back, his hands laid on your shoulders as he scanned your face, “Hey, don’t thank me, Josh is a prick, and i’m so sorry”

You give him a small, weak smile, your eyes darting from his eyes to his lips. You weren’t sure what had come over you, but you wanted to kiss him, wanted to show him how thankful you were for saving you from Josh taking things any further.

You slowly lean your head in, lips brushing his softly, but he pulls back, his blue eyes finding yours again. “You- You’re drunk”

“Not anymore. That was enough to sober me up real quick. Kiss me, please”

Rafe exhales deeply, letting his head fall. You run your fingers through his messy hair, making him lift his head again, “Are you sure?”

“Kiss me, Rafe. I’m sure”

“Fuck it” He breathes out. He leans his head forward, his lips capturing yours softly. The two of you move in sync, small moans falling from your lips when he runs his hands down your sides, fingertips tightly gripping at your sides.

He breaks the kiss, the sounds of both your heavy breathing filling the small room. You look up at him again, resting your hands on his chest. Your heart pounding so hard you were sure he could hear it, “I- Thank you”

He gives you a small smile, “Don’t thank me. I’d do anything for you. Now, you wanna go to sleep? I’ll sleep on the couch once everyone leaves, you can have my bed”

You sigh, “I would, but I don’t want to put you on the couch, and i’m sure Jessica wants me home”

“She left a few hours ago.. She called an Uber. I don’t want you driving home, I promise it’s not a big deal, you can have my bed. Let’s go”

You hesitate but ultimately agree, taking his hand and letting him lead you to the end of the hall and into his room.

“This is all I really have for you to sleep in, hope that’s okay? I just don’t think you want to sleep in jeans…”

He tosses you an oversized T-Shirt which you gladly take. You undo the button on your jeans, making Rafe’s face turn red as he quickly turns his body so his back was facing you.

You giggle, stripping your jeans and cropped top from your body and sliding his shirt over your body, “You can turn around”

He quickly turns, a wide smile on his face when he sees you, “You look better in that than I do”

He takes two long strides toward you, his hands finding your waist and pulling you into his body. You let out a squeal when you feel his hands dig into your sides, lifting yourself on your toes, lips brushing against his again, “I’m sure that’s not true”

Rafe dips his head down, placing a soft and sensual kiss to your lips. You chase his lips, but he removes his hands from your waist and steps backward, “I’ll see you in the morning, okay?”

He turns to walk out of his room but you stop him, “Can you- Can you stay with me tonight? Please?”

He smiles, turning back to face you and pulling his shirt over his head, “I thought you’d never ask”

RAFE TAGLIST: @ivy-34 @rafeism @thelomlisrafecameron @rafegirly @f4ll-for-you @drewstarkeyslut @starkeypankowsbae @lizcameron @m-1234 @dilvcv @thewitchesofart @rafesgfxo @unsaidjaelinrose @abbybarnesstuff @itsmytimetoodream @thatsthewaythechrissycrumbles @r1vrsefx @alexisbaumann2004 @yourfavborderhopper @moremaybank @rafetopia @rafemotherfuckingcameron @jade-is-jaded @jjmaybankisbae @lexasaurs634 @mel119g @softlilacarrest @fayerite @exhaustedbutelated @lyndys @urmyslxt @presleyanswrites @sierraluvz @carma-fanficaddict @rafescokenostril @madzzz0797 @slytherhoes @jscameron @jjsmarijuana @ijustwanttoreadlols @luversgirl @sugarcoatedstarkey @skyesthebomb @nirvanaissogood @daivny @vhour @emma77645 @rafeinterlude @inluvwithmorales @superlegend216

rafe masterlist | series ml | moodboard | taglist form

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #football player!rafe #cheerleader!reader #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron x you #football au #rafe cameron fic #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron series #rafe cameron brainrot #obx rafe cameron #rafe cameron smut

[hvreticz]

VIRGINS PARTY (ethan landry x fem!reader)

WARNINGS : MINORS DNI, drunk sex, first time, ethan and reader are virgins (they both are bold), mutual masturbation, p in v, protected sex (ALWAYS), kind of dirty talk, smut with plot, hair pulling, it’s like soft smut it’s their first time but ethan is whipped (lmk if there’s something i missed)

NOT PROOFREAD

words count :

summary : You’re at a party playing truth or dare while drunk and things turns out unexpectedly hot.

a/n : virgin!ethan gives me butterflies (+sub!ethan)

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The music was extremely loud when you entered that frat party, you weren’t the type to go out a lot but when you did, it was always awkward at first. You scanned the crowd of drunk people in hope of recognizing one of your friends -who invited you- and saw chad at the other side of the room, talking with a guy who appeared as awkward as you.

You quickly walked to them and greeted them

“hi guys!” you screamed so both of the boys could hear you, chad screamed hi in return and the other boy looked at you, doing a shy hi from his hand. Now that you were looking at him, you recognized that it was the guy from your econ class, who’s like 2 seats in front of you. Not knowing what to say, that’s the only subject of conversation that came to your mind.

“You have econ right ? i saw you yesterday!” you said and chad gave you the biggest side eye and left, he wasn’t there to talk about school

“what ?” said the boy, frowning his eyebrows, he couldn’t hear shit with that loud music and bended forward to hear you. The proximity made your heart skip a beat. why was that hot ? you thought. You cleared your throat and spoke louder “i asked if you had econ ! i think we’re in the same class !”

“oh…yeah !” the boy looked at you, as if he was searching in his memory if he saw you before, the proximity of your faces made him blush slightly. “yeah i recognize you, saw you a couple of times!” the boy added without saying anything else and the two of you just kept looking at each other, nodding your head while listening to the music -which was awful by the way- and you quickly changed the conversation before the feeling of awkwardness could creep under your skin.

“want a drink ?” you asked, and Ethan looked at you with big round puppy eyes, eyebrows furrowed in a shocked expression. He wasn’t the type to drink but being asked so gently, he felt like refusing would make things weirder “sure ?” he said in a tone, and you didn’t know if he was asking or confirming but you grabbed two red cups anyways, bringing it to him but before you could sip on your cup, chad come beside you and got an arm around your shoulder while his other hand grabbed the boy shoulder.

“we are playing a game of truth or dare, you guys should play, would loosen y’all up.” and with that, he both grabbed you and manhandled the both of you into a room. There was some other people you never saw and some from his friend group. You all sat in a circle and the pretty boy sat next to you, softly smiling and chad spoke

“okay so i’ll start, Tara” he spoke and the girl raised her head “truth or dare?” the girl faked thought about it “dare” she said and you looked at the people around you, it was all the type to ask some dumb shit about running naked or things like that, that game could go wrong very quickly, you thought. “Kiss the hottest person from the room” chad said and the boy next to you rolled his eyes “don’t roll you eyes ethan, we all know you couldn’t do this.”

so his name was ethan…you thought to yourself and he whispered a faint ‘whatever’ and without the music, his voice was ten times more attractive than before, this was going to be hard. While you were lost in your thoughts, some rounds had already passed ans some people left the room, wanting to go back to the party.

A girl waved her hand towards you. “what’s your name pretty girl?” the girl asked, think her name was anika, as you could remember the names quickly now since you weren’t that much anymore ; just chad and his friends, plus you.

“truth or dare?”fuck, you weren’t prepared to be asked so soon and drank a sip of your cup to calm your nerves as everyone looked at you. “dare?” you said with the same hesitation as the boy earlier, not really super if it was a great choice. “oooh she’s bold” said chad and anika have him a slap on the back of his head before continuing “i dare you….” she said as she looked at the people in the room “to kiss ethan!” she said proudly and ethan chocked on his drink, already burning his face in his cup before making even bigger eyes and looking at you.

“you don’t, you don’t have to do it if you don’t want to” said the boy and it made your heart melt, kinda. “Do you?” you asked and ethan cheeks grew redder as a laugh escaped chas lips “we’re just, gonna leave you guys do it, ethan’s a little virg—“ chad couldn’t finish his sentence before the sore closed, leaving you both in the room.

alone

You could faintly hear the music that was played from downstairs : the Weeknd.

you looked at ethan who was already looking at you, his heart pounding in his chest. he almost wondered if you were able to hear it. you slowly got to him, straddling him but not touching any part of his body, looking in his eyes. “Can i?” you asked softly and put your hands on his cheeks and ethan couldn’t even speak, he just nodded and you guys kissed. It was sloppy at first, ethan didn’t know what to do with his hands and just put them on your waist, squeezing slightly as you both deepened the kiss, his tongue brushing against your lips and you let him enter, releasing a soft sight as you closed the space between your bodies, your covered ass on his front while your hands were in his hair, slowly pulling.

Ethan let out a groan and you pulled away “did i do something bad?” you asked and ethan looked at you, pupils blown “no ! no no- i really enjoy this, really.” he said before closing the gap between you guys lips again, feeling his pants tighten while he slowly reverse the position, you being laid on the floor, your arms supporting you as ethan was on top of you, kissing you deeper and his kiss got down to your neck, you were growing absolutely red and it was so sensual you thought it wasn’t humanly possible to be that hot.

“it’s my first time” ethan babbled in between kiss and your stomach made a knot, not of fear ; that information made you even more aroused. “me too” you slowly whispered and you both looked at each other “maybe doing it on the floor isn’t the best idea…” you said while laughing and ethan laughed back before getting up, helping you get on your feet. For your chance, the bed wasn’t far away and you both literally jumped on it and jumped on each other, more eager than before. “i need you” was all ethan whispered before you sat him on the bed and sat on top of him, kissing him and throwing your shirt away, as ethan did the same with his. You both started to dry hump each other while kissing to release some tension and the sound ethan made literally made your stomach turns.

You quickly got rid of his pants and yours before you hands went straight to his dick while his went for your covered clit, rubbing circles on it as you stroked his dick. Both moans escapes your lips and you looked at each other, no being able to break eye contact. The sounds were almost pornographic as he got under you underwear, dipping a finger into your throbbing cunt. “fuck you’re so hot…and so wet, woah” he genuinely looked shocked and turned on and you kissed him and he kept thrusting in and out of you while moans escaped your lips. You couldn’t wait anymore and pulled his boxer down before grabbing a condom that was on in your pants and he helped you by shifting his hips up, collapsing onto you

“oh fuck, oh my god” one of your hand clenched on his shoulder, digging your nails onto his skin as you slowly get down on him and you both moaned loudly, before staying like that for some time.

“you have condoms on you?” he said? chucking and you chuckled back “you never know, always be protected” was all you said before moving up and down slowly, clenching your cunt as ethan throw his head back, moans filling the room and you both fucked each other for the first time. Ethan thrusted his hips up and it hit a spot you never knew existed, which made you gasp and ethan stopped “fuck, did i hurt you?”

“no keep doing that, it felt so good” you babbled before both of you moved up and down on each other, skin against skin, pace quickening as you felt a knot forming into your lower stomach. Ethan’s name rolled on your tongue like a prayer, and so did he with yours. He grabbed your hips and smacked hard, he was close.

“m’close, fuck, fuck me longer” he started to whimper and let what sounded like a high pitched moan and you slowed down your rhythm before a thousand of ‘please’ and ‘yes’ left his mouth, making you reach you climax “m’gonna cum, fuck, oh my god” you said and Ethan nodded vigorously, kissing you again as you both came at the same time, fucking you through your orgasm.

When you both looked et each other, your faces where red, your breathing was fast and you were totally dick drunk while he was totally whipped by your pussy, it was made for him to fuck into.

You got up and gasped slightly at the emptiness now. You got to pee and ethan cleaned himself before you put back your pantie and he put back on his boxer before you both cuddled a bit. He kissed you on the forehead and looked at you. “Chad is probably wondering was is taking us so long.” he said “probably think we couldn’t kiss and just talked” you shrugged and ethan smiled before you both got dressed.

Before leaving the room, ethan grabbed you by the arm “so…i’ll see you in econ ?” you smiled and kissed him “keep me a seat next to you then” you both smiled and left the room hands in hands and reunited with your friends.

taglist : @1h3artjah @shrekscrustybudassy @monkeyp0x-blog @rafelvr @gemilee @qrminsbabe @sicbaby

#sub! ethan landry #ethan landry smut #scream #scream smut #scream 6 #ethan kirsch #scream 6 smut #smut #smut masterlist #ethan x reader #ethan landry imagine #scream iv #scream movie

[sunkissed-zegras]

👒🌱 Hey! I was trying to decide what to request and i was thinking of a mixture of angst and fluff and couldn’t decide. I picked the prompts below. I am thinking of a scenario where you run into trouble… something scary or sad happens and they have to come to your rescue (even though we are all baddies who don’t need men lmao) and they protect you/make things better. With jack please and thank you! 💕

33. "don't worry. i'll keep you safe no matter what."

7. "can i stay with you tonight? i don't want to go home."

𝐢'𝐦 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐧𝐨𝐰 | jh⁸⁶

♡ ─ word count | 1.1k

♡ ─ warnings | creepy drunk men, protective!jack, alcohol, mention of anxiety, nothing else!

♡ ─ ev's notes | i didn't use the last prompt, it didn't cross my mind i'm sorry!

You looked down at your drink as you listened to Jack and his friends talk about something sports. You were zoned out, in your own world as the music played through the speakers of the bar. As you gazed into your drink, the ice cubes clinked against the sides of the glass, creating a soothing sound that seemed to echo.

You felt Jack's hands moved to your shoulders and squeeze unexpectedly making you jump slightly, a surprised laugh escaping your lips. You looked up at your boyfriend, a smile playing on your lips. The warmth in his gaze was comforting, grounding you in the present moment.

"Hey there," Jack said, his voice soft amid the background noise of the bar. "Everything alright?"

You nodded, the warmth of his touch seeping into you. "Just lost in thought, I guess. But I'm here now."

His smile widened, and he leaned in to place a gentle kiss on your forehead. "Well, welcome back," he whispered, his breath brushing against your skin. Feeling the tension melt away, you leaned into his embrace, savoring the comfort of his presence amidst the loud bar.

"Jack!" You both turned your heads at the sound. "Let's play some pool, whoever loses buys all of us a round."

Jack grinned at the challenge, exchanging a quick glance with you before nodding in agreement. "Okay, buddy. Are we gonna have a replay of last Saturday night," he called back to his friend, a playful spark in his eyes. "You comin', sweetheart?"

You nodded, "I'll be right there, I'm gonna go get a refill."

As Jack headed towards the pool table, you made your way to the bar to get a refill. The bartender greeted you with a nod as you approached.

"What can I get you?" the bartender asked over the loud music of the bar.

"Another one of these," you replied, holding up your nearly empty glass. The bartender swiftly took it, and with a knowing smile, began preparing your drink.

As you waited, you glanced around, taking in the eclectic mix of people and the décor that adorned the walls. You kept looking back to see if Jack was still at the pool table, nervousness settling in the pit of your stomach. You suddenly felt someone come up behind you and sit next to you, you expected it to be Jack or one of your friends, you weren't expecting a man you didn't recognize.

Your anxiety spiked as you felt the presence of the unfamiliar man beside you, his sudden appearance sending a jolt of unease through your body.

"Hey there," he greeted, his voice cutting through the ambient noise. "I couldn't help but notice you from across the bar. Mind if I join you?"

You managed a polite but cautious smile, "Uh, thanks, but I'm actually here with my boyfriend."

He let out a bitter laugh as he shook his head. "Who said anything about boyfriends, just bein' friendly. Can I get you a drink?"

"Thanks, but I'm good," you replied, trying to maintain a firm but polite boundary. The uneasy tension lingered in the air as you kept stealing glances towards the pool table, hoping Jack or one of your friends would notice the situation.

The man leaned in a little closer, his demeanor becoming more assertive. You could smell the alcohol all over him, your stomach twisting in anxiety. "Come on, just one drink. We can chat a bit, no harm in that."

A subtle sense of alarm crept over you, "I appreciate the offer, but I'd rather not. Excuse me," you said, attempting to get up, forgetting about the drink you had bought. He immediately got up as well, blocking you from getting up.

"I insist," he said, his voice edged with a persistence that sent chills down your spine. "Just one drink, it won't hurt. What's the harm in a little conversation?"

Panic simmered beneath the surface as you glanced around, hoping someone from your group or the bar staff would notice the situation. "I really need to get back to my boyfriend," you asserted, your voice firm but tinged with urgency. You tried to sidestep him, but he moved in sync with your every move, maintaining the blockade.

"Come on, sweetheart, don't be so uptight," he pressed, his demeanor taking on a more aggressive tone.

"I said no." You finally shouted, looking up at the man and trying to finally walk away. As soon you thought you had gotten away, you felt his hand grab your arm and pull you backwards, falling back on the bar.

A surge of fear and anger fueled you as you planted your feet on the ground, summoning every ounce of strength to resist. "Let go of me!" you demanded, your voice trembling with fear.

Before the man could do anything else, he was pushed to the ground by a force. You blinked up at Jack, relief running through your veins. Jack then grabbed him up by the collar, "Why do you have your fucking hands on her?"

"Relax, man-"

"Relax? You just pinned my girlfriend on the bar when she told you no, what the fuck do you mean relax?" Jack's voice boomed with anger, his grip tightening on the man's collar.

"I-I didn't mean anything by it. Just trying to talk, you know?" he stammered, his voice faltering under Jack's unwavering gaze.

"You're fucking lucky I haven't beat your ass by now, buddy." Jack's jaw clenched, his protective instincts in full force. He pushed the man to the floor, "Fuckin' pussy."

As Jack walked back towards you, his anger began to subside, replaced by a concern that softened his features. The intensity in his eyes gave way to a warmer expression as he reached out to you. "I'm sorry, baby I should've come with you."

"No, no it's not your fault. I just should've waited until you were done, I forgot how weird men could be."

Jack's arms tightened around you, offering silent reassurance and support. "I know, baby. It's not your fault either. You shouldn't have to worry about stuff like this," he said, his voice filled with empathy. "I'll keep you safe no matter what, okay?"

You gently touched his cheek, the warmth of your touch encouraging him to meet your gaze. "It's okay, really. I handled it, and you came to my rescue. That's all that matters."

As the two of you stood there, wrapped in each other's arms, the lingering tension from the encounter began to dissipate. Jack pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead

"I love you," he whispered, his words warm as he spoke.

"I love you too," you replied, the simple affirmation carrying with it a promise of shared strength and enduring support.

"Let's go home, alright?" Jack suggested, his voice a gentle invitation laced with concern.

You nodded, grateful for the offer. "Yeah, that sounds good."

Hand in hand, you both made your way towards the exit, leaving the bar and its unsettling memories behind. The night air outside felt crisp and cool, a welcome contrast to the intensity of the enclosed space you had just left.

-> make sure to check out my navigation or masterlist if you enjoyed! any interaction is greatly appreciated! <-

thank you for reading all the way through, as always ♡

#❀ evangeline's 1k celly!!⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ˚ #nhl #nhl imagine #nhl fic #hockey #nhl oneshot #nhl fanfiction #hockey fic #hockey stuff #jack hughes #jack hughes imagine #jack hughes smut #jack hughes x reader #jack hughes fic #jack hughes fluff #jack hughes blurb #jack hughes x y/n #new jersey devils #luke hughes #nj devils

[rashoumon-homo]

No Such Tastes In Men pt.3 (Dazai x Reader)

Dazai x Male Reader, NSFW

-> Content Warnings: male!reader, anal sex (Dazai receiving), bottom Dazai, dom!reader

-> 1.9k words

NSFW CONTENT AHEAD - READ AT YOUR OWN RISK

<- Previous Part

When Dazai approaches you for your weekly meeting, you can tell there’s something more on his mind. He’s biting his lip, eyes not meeting yours, while you give your report on suspicious activity you’ve monitored in the past days. It’s not like him to be so distracted, so nervous, so you stop mid-sentence and fold your arms over your chest. 

“Alright, spit it out,” you say, eyes narrowed. “You’re thinking so loud it’s drowning me out.”

Dazai gives you an apologetic smile. “That obvious, huh? I was trying to find the right words to invite you back to my place after this meeting.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Why?”

“Why do I want to invite you over, or why was I thinking so hard about how to ask you?” he asks.

“Both, I suppose.”

On the surface, Dazai looks as calm as ever, but to the trained eye he’s clearly nervous. That slight tremble of his hands that he hides by shoving his hands in his pockets; how his gaze flicks away as he laughs nervously. “I wanted to try something new with you.” He swallows. “I want you to fuck me.”

You can’t help but laugh, relieved. “That’s it? You don’t need to be nervous to ask me that! We’ve been getting each other off for months now, it’s no big deal.”

“Only during the weekly meetings,” he clarifies. “And only with our hands or our mouths. Inviting you over outside of that time frame, and to actually fuck me– which would be my first time, mind you– is different.”

You shrug. “I don’t think it’s weird, if that’s any consolation. You want me to top?”

Dazai nods. You smile and step forward, tucking his hair behind his ear. “Alright,” you murmur. “I’ll make it good for you, don’t worry.”

He shivers, breath catching in his throat. His reaction lights a spark inside you, your heart racing at the prospect of making him melt in your hands; getting to fuck those pretty whines and moans out of him. 

“I’ll let you get ready. 9:00 tonight?” you suggest. 

Dazai nods. His eyes are wide and if you had better hearing you swear you’d be able to hear his racing heart. 

“Hey,” you say softly. “Don’t stress too much, okay? I’ll take care of you.”

As you leave the alley, you hear him say quietly, “That’s why I’m worried…”

***

You knock on Dazai’s apartment door a few minutes before 9. He opens it a second later, his face flushed and a nervous grin on his face. He’s changed into a much more casual outfit; a plain t-shirt and jeans. It’ll be much easier to get him out of it than his work clothes would have been. 

The apartment is warm and cozy. There’s music softly playing from a speaker by the tv, something slow and romantic you don’t recognize. He leads you to the living room and invites you to sit down on the couch, then heads to the kitchen. “Want anything to drink?” he calls out. 

You smile to yourself. He’s trying so hard to set the mood and it’s kind of adorable. “Water’s fine,” you reply. 

He appears a second later with two glasses: water for you, and whiskey for himself. You down half the glass in a couple gulps, while he sips his drink and sits beside you rigidly. 

“Relax,” you remind him, bumping your shoulder into his. He smiles sheepishly in return and takes another sip of his drink. 

“You hook up with women all the time, don’t you?” you ask. “Why’re you acting so shy?”

“It’s just… different,” he says with a sigh. “You’re the only guy I’ve ever been with, and you’re so experienced. I don’t know what we are; what our boundaries are. We’ve made each other cum a dozen times but we’ve never even kissed. I just… don’t want to do the wrong thing.”

You smile sympathetically at him. “We don’t need to figure out a label right now unless you want to. But you do make a good point about boundaries. For me, anything physical is fine. You can touch me, kiss me, bite me, whatever you want. I’m fine with you calling me ‘baby’ or whatever during sex, just don’t blindside me with an ‘I love you’ or anything.”

Dazai shakes his head and laughs. “Pfft, I wouldn’t do that, don’t worry. My boundaries are the same. And I don’t mind if you leave marks or anything, they’d probably get covered by my bandages anyway.”

“Since we’re both okay with kissing,” you say playfully, “Want to get our first kiss out of the way? Might help you relax a little.”

Dazai sets his drink down and scoots closer. “Okay,” he says, cautiously reaching his hand up to rest on your shoulder. You cup his jaw in your hand and stare into his eyes for a moment. Your other hand rests at his waist. You brush your thumb along his lower lip and pull him forward so your foreheads meet. 

“God, you’re handsome,” you whisper, then bring his lips to yours. He kisses you softly, tentatively, at first, but then you part your lips and he mirrors you, tongue dipping into your mouth. You hear him groan quietly into the kiss and you can taste his whiskey on his tongue. His hand slides up from your shoulder to your cheek. He holds you surprisingly gently, more so than you expected anyway. 

When you break apart, you’re both breathing hard, cheeks flushed and soft smiles on your faces. 

“Better?” you ask. 

He grins and kisses you again in response. This time, he swings his leg over yours to sit in your lap, his fingers threading into your hair. You trail your kisses down to his neck, where you suck hickeys onto his skin. 

“I could do this all night, just keep kissing you until my lips hurt,” he says breathlessly. 

You laugh, the vibrations tickling his neck. “I can think of something better,” you say. Then you grab the undersides of his thighs and lift him up. He wraps his arms around your neck and crosses his ankles. 

“Which way to the bedroom?” you ask, still nibbling at his neck. 

“Down the hall, first door on the right.”

You continue kissing him as you carry him down the hall, and with some difficulty (considering you’re carrying him, kissing him, and have never been here before) find your way to the bedroom. You lower him onto the bed and climb on top of him. 

“Doing okay?” you ask. You sit up and pull off your shirt. 

Dazai nods enthusiastically, then pointedly bucks his hips up to press your erections together. You both groan at the contact, and then it’s a tangled mess of you grinding against each other while trying to pull clothes off. 

Finally, you’re able to slip his boxers down and get your hands on that cock. You’re careful not to touch him too much; you don’t want him cumming before it’s time. But just a little for now is fine, to tease him. 

“Gonna have to stretch you now,” you say. “It’s probably gonna take a while since this is your first time, but-” You stop talking when you see Dazai looking to the side, embarrassed. “What…?” you ask.

“It is my first time, but I’ve, uh… fingered myself before?” he says quietly. 

“Oh?” Just that “oh?” is enough for Dazai to crack, spilling the secret he’d tried to keep all day. 

“A little after we first hooked up, I tried fingering myself, cause I was curious, and it was really good but it wasn’t enough and then I ended up buying a dildo but pretty soon that wasn’t enough either and I realized what I really wanted was YOU and that’s why I asked you to fuck me,” Dazai says quickly. 

Your eyes widen with surprise. “Pass me the lube,” you say finally. He hands it to you, looking a little apprehensive still. You coat your fingers, then slip one in. Dazai gasps quietly as he feels it go in. He’s loose, way more than you expected. And so soft and warm inside. You add another and ask, “You stretched yourself before I came here, too, didn’t you?”

Dazai nods. “Mmh… wanted to be ready…” he moans. You slip a third finger in and curl them, petting his walls while searching for his prostate. “Feels so good when it’s someone else’s fingers,” he says. He’s squirming and letting out little breathy grunts as you finger him open. And then you brush over his prostate and he jolts and cries out. Applying just the right amount of indirect pressure has him writhing under your touch and moaning lewdly. 

“Please,” he begs. “I need more…”

“Think you’re ready?” you tease. It’s too much fun taking him apart like this. 

“Please,” he whines. And he looks so pitiful and needy that you just have to oblige him. 

“Alright,” you say. You kiss him to distract him from you pulling out your fingers, then grab the condom he hands you and roll it on. “You sure?” you ask again, this time your voice tinged with genuine worry. “If you want to stop at any point just let me know and-”

Dazai impatiently pulls you down into a bruising kiss. Precum smears onto your stomach as he pulls you close, and you can feel how hot his cock is against you. “Fuck me,” he says desperately. 

You nod and line yourself up with him. You hold his hips in place as you slide in, as slowly as he will let you. Once you’re all the way in, you grind your cock against his prostate and he mewls, pushing his hips further into you. 

“So full…” he groans. “Please… move…”

And so you do. You drag your cock almost all the way out, then thrust in. Dazai positively wails at the sensation. “Fuck,” he cries. 

“You’re so tight and so perfect,” you moan, thrusting in again. The feeling is addictive; Dazai’s hole is sucking you in so nicely. Soon you’re thrusting at a regular pace, holding Dazai’s hips and listening to him moan. 

Fuck, he’s loud, too. Between his loud cries and the sound of the bed frame hitting the wall, he’s sure to get some complaints from neighbors. But you can’t even bring yourself to care. He’s so perfect, so fucking sexy. 

“Please… gonna…” Dazai moans. “Touch me…”

You barely wrap your hand around his cock before his back is arching and he’s cumming hard, moans cutting out into a silent scream as he reaches his peak. The feeling of him tightening around you brings you over the edge too. You thrust hard into him one last time and let out a guttural moan. 

As your orgasms taper off, you collapse onto Dazai’s chest, listening to the rapid beating of his heart. 

“Holy shit,” he says finally. 

You laugh. “Yeah?”

“I think I’m bi.”

Dazai starts laughing and then you laugh too, kissing him lazily. Maybe you’re just caught up in the moment, but you can’t help but feel like there’s something more between you two than just sexual exploration. It’s something to ask him about later, for sure, but for now you just want to be two happy, sweaty, cum-covered bodies tangled together. Besides, the way Dazai kisses the top of your head? That’s gotta be as good as it gets.

Tag list: @suru1990

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#rashoumon writes #dazai x reader #dazai x you #dazai x y/n #dazai x male reader #dazai x m!reader #dazai smut #bsd fic #bsd #dazai bsd #sub dazai #bottom dazai #bungou stray dogs

[theostrophywife]

kiss with a fist | chapter four.

masterlist 💋 chapters 💋 playlist

pairing: theodore nott x reader.

song inspiration: bohemian rhapsody by queen.

author's note: i'm warning ya'll now this one is sugary sweet. i'm basically finished writing all the chapters, so i'll be pushing these out more often. as always, i hope everyone enjoys my mans.

The west wing of the castle was eerily quiet as you led Theo through the corridors. The spiral staircase leading up to Ravenclaw Tower snaked all the way up to the fifth floor, which was proving to be a feat to climb in the dark given that you weren’t able to cast lumos without being discovered. It didn’t help that a slightly inebriated Theo kept trudging on your toes during your ascent. 

“Oh for Merlin’s sake,” you hissed under your breath before grabbing hold of Theo’s hand. Even in the dark, you could tell that the insufferable twat was smirking. “Not a word, Nott. I either hold your hand like a toddler or keep suffering in silence as you stomp on my toes with your giant feet.”

“You know what they say about giant feet,” Theo whispered behind you. Moonlight streamed through the skylight, perfectly illuminating your scowl. His grin grew wider as he squeezed your hand. “Giant shoes. What did you think I was going to say, Y/N?”

“I’d prefer if you didn’t say anything.” 

Theo gave you a mocking salute as he quietly followed you up the stairs. You tried not to focus on the warmth of his hand or the way his fingers twined tightly around yours. You especially tried not to dwell on the strange but not entirely unpleasant sensation of Theo’s thumb rubbing soothing circles across your knuckles. 

When you reached the fourth floor, Theo made no move to release your hand as you walked up to the wooden door. It had no knob or keyhole, but a knocker in the shape of an eagle. Identical to the common room entrance, which was a floor above. But you had no plans on smuggling a Slytherin into the eagle’s nest. 

Instead, you gently rapped on the knocker. The bronze eagle blinked back at you. Theo nearly fell over in surprise as it rasped out a question.

“What breaks and never falls, and what falls and never breaks?”

“Day breaks and night falls,” you answered. 

The knocker nodded, appearing pleased before the door swung open. Theo chuckled softly. “Of course you Ravenclaws would require a riddle for entrance. Godric forbid you use something as simple as a password.” 

“Passwords are easily guessed, riddles are not.” You tugged him into the dimly lit hallway and gave him a sharp look. “Don’t get any ideas of sneaking in, either. The riddle changes every day and the eagle is prone to clawing intruders.” 

Theo shivered. “And yet everyone thinks that we Slytherins are the sadistic ones.” 

You smiled in satisfaction as the two of you walked further into the fourth floor. Theo trailed along after you, more than happy to let you take the lead for once. He stopped short when you opened the door to the music room. Starlight flooded in through the stained glass windows, drawing silver prisms across the crushed velvet couches, ornate persian rugs, and tiered choral risers. Instruments of every kind were organized into neat rows—harps, cellos, lutes, violins, and even a set of bagpipes. 

But you weren’t interested in any of them. 

In the center of the room sat a baby grand piano. Theo watched curiously as you sat on the bench and carefully lifted the mahogany top. 

“I didn’t even know we had a music room,” he remarked as he slid in beside you. 

“That’s not surprising at all.” 

Theo rolled his eyes. “So this is how you relax?” 

You nodded, resting your fingers on the ivory keys. “Like I said, I’m not really the type of person who can just turn their mind off so I have to occupy myself with something else. With music, I can focus on the chords and scales and patterns and eventually I sort of just get lost in the melody.”

“Play something for me, then.” 

You nodded and started playing a familiar piece. The music flowed through you like honey, each chord and note so vivid in your mind that you could practically imagine the sheet music floating before you.

When you first came to Hogwarts, you spent countless hours in this room. Every time you felt overwhelmed by the wizarding world, you channeled your frustrations and fears into this piano. You found that music was a universal language that was understood by both the magical and muggleborn. 

As you played, you felt the classics pour out of you. Beethoven, Chopin, Liszt, Debussy. They were pieces that you learned from your father. You could almost picture it now, sitting in your sunny London flat and playing the piano together while your mother watched and listened. 

The melancholic melody of Swan Lake filled the room. It was the first piece you ever mastered when you begged your father to teach it to you after coming home from the ballet. A wave of nostalgia crashed into you as you closed your eyes and let yourself become one with the music. 

Each movement was fluid, the muscle memory embedded into you while your fingers flew over the keys. The piece built to its crescendo and it felt bittersweet as you delivered the final note. You had all but forgotten about Theo until you opened your eyes again. 

“Only you would find the morbidity of Swan Lake relaxing,” he said with a small smile. 

You quirked a brow. “You know Tchaikovsky?” 

“Of course. Contrary to popular belief, I’m not a total degenerate.”

“But he’s a muggle.” 

“I’ll have you know that I received an Outstanding in my O.W.L. for Muggle Studies.” 

You gaped. “I didn’t even know you were taking Muggle Studies.” 

“Advanced Muggle Studies,” he corrected. “As much as I love a depressing classic, I think you’ll find this piece a bit more modern.” 

Theo scooted over and began playing a vaguely familiar intro. You strained to place the music and watched with complete bewilderment as he continued to play with a grin. 

Any way the wind blows doesn’t really matter to me. 

The realization set in just as Theo nudged you to play the next part with him. The ballad came naturally to you after having heard the song so many times. 

Mama, just killed a man. 

Put a gun against his head, pulled my trigger, now he's dead.

Mama, life had just begun.

The two of you barrelled through the guitar solo and weaved through the operatic section. Your fingers were cramped by the time you hit the hard rock portion of the song. You hadn’t even noticed that you were singing along until you heard Theo laugh in delight beside you. Thank Rowena for the soundproof walls. 

You turned over, and sang the lyrics right at him. So you think you can stone me and spit in my eye? 

Theo delivered the next line with equal fervor. So you think you can love me and leave me to die? 

The two of you looked at each other and serenaded one another rather aggressively. Oh, baby, can't do this to me, baby. 

Just gotta get out, just gotta get right outta here.

Both of you were in stitches when you finally reached the outro. You couldn’t remember the last time you laughed so hard. 

“We did not just perform a godsawful rendition of Bohemian Rhapsody.” 

“Speak for yourself. My vocals would’ve brought Freddie Mercury to tears.” He touched his heart, looking solemn. “Godric rest his soul. The man was a proper genius.” 

“I would not have pegged you as a Queen fan.” 

“You can peg me no matter whose fan I am, darling.” 

The snort came out of you before you had a chance to reign it in. Theo’s eyes widened in surprise as you covered your mouth in utter mortification. It had taken you years to control your snort, but sometimes it just slipped out. 

“Did you just—”

“Speak of it ever again and I’ll maim you, Theodore.” 

He raised his hands. “I’m not mocking you, I swear. I’ve just never heard you laugh like that.” 

“Yeah, well, I suppose all this faffing around has unearthed my shameful secret.” You tried and failed to conceal your smile. “Consider it a compliment. No one’s heard my snorting in years.”

“Maybe they should. It’s quite charming, you know.” 

You chuckled again, not bothering to hide your snorts. 

Theo grinned. “On second thought, I think I’d like to keep that laugh all to myself.” 

The flush that crept onto your cheeks was entirely involuntary. You stretched your legs underneath you and bumped your knee against his. “Congratulations, Nott. You’ve somehow managed to accomplish the impossible. I actually feel relaxed for once in my life.” 

“Relaxed enough for a midnight snack?” 

You shook your head. “No way. I’m not sneaking into the kitchens again. I barely escaped Winky’s notice when I nicked your muffin last time.” 

“Who said anything about the kitchens? I have my own stash of snacks back in the dungeons. How do you feel about gelato?” 

“I’ve never had it,” you admitted. 

Theo looked properly affronted. “As an Italian, I take that as a personal offense.” 

“Isn’t it the same thing as ice cream?”

“The same as—that’s honestly the most inconsiderate thing you’ve ever said to me.” He rubbed his temples. “This is no longer a matter of choice now. The reputation of my people is on the line until you’ve tasted stracciatella.”

Your mouth quirked. “Got any mint chocolate?” 

As you expected, he flung his hands around as though you’d just asked for feet flavored gelato. “Che palle! This is more dire than I thought. Mint chocolate? You might as well squeeze toothpaste on a chocolate frog and call it a day.”

Theo ranted as he led you out of the music room. You couldn’t help but giggle at the genuine distress in his expression. You made it all the way to the first floor of the tower before he stopped grumbling under his breath. 

“Well, gelato aficionado, I hope you have a plan because Filch is probably making his rounds as we speak.” 

He only smirked in response. “I may know a shortcut.”

You followed after Theo as he approached a portrait on the far end of the west wing. He produced the grimoire from his pocket and shuffled through the worn leather pages before he found the correct page. With a flick of his wand, Theo chanted something in Italian. The portrait, a young woman with dark hair and a mischievous grin, appraised the two of you. As her gaze flickered over you, the familiarity of those watercolor eyes struck you like lightning.

“Fai scelte intelligenti, cugino.” 

With that, the portrait swung open into some sort of secret tunnel. Theo’s lips twitched as he gestured for you to step through the threshold. As the portrait swung close, you heard the young woman sigh dreamily. 

“La storia si ripete.”

While your understanding of Italian was rudimentary at best, you were fairly certain that she’d said something about history repeating itself. Theo reached for your hand in the dark and you took it without question. You were deep within the secret passage before you even realized it.  

“Family of yours?” 

“How’d you guess?” 

“You have the same eyes,” you observed. “Plus, she called you cousin.” 

He seemed mildly amused by the comment. “Been brushing up on your Italian?” 

“Only enough to make sure you’re not insulting me.” 

Theo chuckled. “Fair enough. To answer your question, yes. The portrait is of Coletta, my second cousin thrice removed. She attended Hogwarts centuries ago. She was a Ravenclaw as well.”

“Why is that name so familiar?”

“She invented the enchantment for the moving portraits. Of course her first subject was herself.” 

“So narcissism and vanity is an inherited trait, then?”

Theo smirked. “Darling, when you’re as pretty as we are, then immortalizing that beauty for future generations to behold becomes a high priority.”

“Oh, good. I was worried that you were becoming too humble."

“Let’s just say that dear old Coletta won’t be the only one in my bloodline to be featured on a chocolate frog card.”

“I doubt that being the world’s most massive wanker constitutes the commissioning of a card.”

He rolled his eyes as you rounded a corner. Theo kept you behind him as he pushed on a depression in the walls. It gave way, swinging open to an empty hallway. 

“Speaking of massive wankers, welcome to the Slytherin dormitories.”

You smirked and nodded to the giant serpent statue at the end of the hallway. “Is that a basilisk or are you just happy to see me?”

“My poor little Ravenclaw. I’m afraid I’ve corrupted you past the point of no return.”

“Please,” you tutted, strutting through the maze of the dungeon dormitories like you owned the place. “I was depraved way before I ever met you.” 

Theo chuckled under his breath as he led you further into the heart of the viper’s nest. Through the windows, you could see the dark waves of the Black Lake ripple as you walked through. It was oddly beautiful, in a morbid sort of way.

“Here we are,” Theo said as you came to a stop at the end of the hall. “Home sweet home.” 

Before you entered, he muttered a series of privacy and protection spells that you’ve never even heard of. Magic weaved through the door and sizzled with evergreen sparks before it finally swung open. 

“Paranoid much?”

“You have no idea. You Ravenclaws may have your riddles, but learning how to hex your door from nosy snooping twats is a right of passage for every Slytherin.”

You peered through the threshold, suddenly feeling nervous. In the past year doing whatever it was you and Theo were doing, it had become a sort of unspoken rule to have sex anywhere but your dorms. For one, it was too much of a hassle to sneak each other in, but if you were being honest, the main reason why you've never even attempted was because seeing someone else’s room was strangely intimate. You tried not to think about how easily Theo invited you into his space as you ducked through the door. 

A mixture of envy and jealousy hit you full force when you walked into his dorm. It was a massive room with a four poster bed, luxurious velvet curtains, and a stained glass skylight. There was a mahogany desk littered with ancient tomes, cracked parchment, and half empty ink pots. The latest Nimbus model was propped up next to his nightstand with a green and silver scarf tied around its hilt. Leave it to Theo to use the expensive broom as a glorified hanger. 

You made your way through the elegantly decorated room and noted that it was far tidier than you would’ve expected. Theo was content to hang back and watch as you looked through his baubles. A picture on his nightstand caught your eye. Mostly because it wasn’t like the moving portraits you were so used to seeing in the wizarding world. This was a still likeness, a polaroid of a beautiful dark haired woman with little Theo. He was wearing a Cambridge jumper three sizes too big and showing off his two missing front teeth with a cheeky grin. 

The image tugged at your heart. “Is this your mum?” 

Theo nodded. “Yeah, that was the first time she took me with her to Cambridge.” 

“And there’s the infamous jumper you begged her to buy, huh?” 

“The one and only.”

You kept staring at the photo, noting how happy little Theo looked. It made you think back on that day at the lab when you watched him slip on his smirk like a mask. Like armor. You wondered if you’d ever see his unguarded smile, full of childlike wonder and joy, just like in the picture. You wondered why you even wanted to. 

“She was very beautiful,” you finally said, setting down the polaroid. 

“She was,” Theo wistfully agreed. “Clearly I inherited her good looks.”

Rolling your eyes fondly, you continued surveying his room. For some reason, you found it fascinating. You nearly squealed in delight when you came across the towers of books he had lined up against the wall. 

“Go ahead,” Theo said with a chuckle. “I know you’re dying to snoop, diavolina.”

He couldn’t have been more right. You loved going through people’s bookshelves. You could tell a lot about a person based on their books. In Theo’s case, his reads were nearly as chaotic and surprising as he was. 

As expected, there were a few books on quidditch, a rare potions tome that you were fairly certain cost a small fortune, a selection of mystery novels, all magical save for a lone leatherbound book on the top shelf. You carefully cracked it open and found yourself reading through the Divine Comedy. 

“Dante’s Inferno,” you said in surprise. “How terribly morbid of you.” 

“How so?” He asked, reading over your shoulder. “Alighieri composed it as a comedy rather than a tragedy. It does have somewhat of a happy ending.”

“I suppose, but the poem was mainly a raw commentary on the savage nature of human existence and delved into the ugliness of it all, from the banal to the depraved. The eternal torture chamber was a meditation on evil. Even purgatory explored the flaws of human nature and the fallen state society often finds itself in.”

Theo took the book from your hands and flipped to the last section. “Yes, but Paradiso was all about goodness. It explores transcendence, redemption, and virtue.” He smiled softly. “I know the concept of paradise might be a bit naive, but isn’t there a concept of heaven that we all hold onto to prevent ourselves from despairing? When you’re trudging through shit, you’ve got to hope that you’re clawing for something better on the other side.” 

You were silent for a moment. “What does Paradise look like for you, Nott?”

Theo smirked. “You’ll have to get me higher than this to answer that question, dolcezza.”

“Fair enough. Now educate me on gelato like you promised.”

A few minutes later, the two of you sat cross legged on his rug while indulging in decadent scoops of stracciatella. The creaminess of the gelato was perfectly complemented by delicious flakes of dark chocolate. The sounds you made while eating were borderline sexual.

“If I had known it was this easy to make you moan, I would’ve introduced you to gelato ages ago.”

You lightly kicked him in the shin. “I still can’t believe you enchanted a mini fridge to hold your fancy imported dessert.”

It was actually quite impressive. You hadn’t even thought of doing that yourself and you were the muggleborn one. 

“Perks of acing advanced muggle studies.” 

“Having a Gringott’s vault at your disposal helps as well.”

“Smart, rich, and handsome. I’m just an all around catch, aren’t I?”

“Someday you’ll make some poor unsuspecting witch very, very miserable.”

“Someday?” Theo asked, the corner of his mouth curving into a mischievous smile. “Why wait? I’m perfectly capable of making you miserable now.” 

With that, he took a dollop of his gelato and smushed it against the tip of your nose.

You gasped in surprise, squealing at how cold and sticky it felt against your skin. “You’re a dead man, Nott.”

Theo bolted to the other side of his dorm and you followed, trying to fling scoops of gelato at him. He giggled like a child as he dodged your attacks but there was only so much space for him to evade you. Finally, he gripped your wrists to keep you from retaliating. 

“Here, let me clean you up.” 

As you squirmed in his grasp, Theo leaned over and licked the tip of your nose. You squealed in disgust as he lapped up every bit of gelato. Theo sneakily took your cup from you and set them aside before leaning back to admire his work. From this close, you could see the gold flecks in his eyes. They darkened as you glanced up at him, his blue green gaze turning stormy. 

“What?” you asked, brushing at your face. “Is my face all sticky and gross?”

Theo shook his head. “No—you look fine—more than fine you’re—“ He paused, stumbling for words. “Can I kiss you?”

The question suddenly made you feel nervous, which was ridiculous given the fact that you’d kissed Theo countless times before, but there was something about the way he looked at you now that felt…different. 

“You’ve never asked before.” 

Theo frowned. “Maybe I should have.” He ran his fingers through his hair nervously. “Gods, you’re right. I can be a real wanker sometimes.” 

You smiled. “To be fair, I kissed you first. Mostly to shut you up, but still. I’ve never asked either.” 

He swallowed thickly as he ran his fingers through your braid. “Well, can I?” 

A knot formed in your stomach as you nodded. This was ridiculous. There was no need to be nervous. You repeated those words over and over again to yourself as Theo caressed your cheek, his gaze flickering over your face as though he was searching for that final missing piece of the puzzle. Then, gently, as gently as he ever had, Theo leaned in and kissed you. 

He tasted like cigarettes and mint, like dark chocolate and cream, like stracciatella and sin. 

But most of all, Theodore Nott tasted like your own personal unraveling.

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#i would lick gelato off of this mans [censored] #theo nott #theo nott fic #theo nott smut #theo nott x reader #theo nott x y/n #theo nott x you #theodore nott #theodore nott x reader #theodore nott x you #theodore nott x y/n #theodore nott imagine #theodore nott smut

[inlovewithquestionablecharacters]

Milo(Lucian) X Reader: I see red

Watched Morbius and of course i went and fell for the villan

Warnings: Smut, blowjob, handjob, dirty talk, cum eating, face fucking, blood drinking(he is a vampire), insecurity.

Word Count: 2,1K

You’d always loved Milo. Even though you knew you didn’t have forever with him your heart couldn’t help but fall for the man. Milo hadn’t been handed the best cards, he wasn’t a lucky man but at least he had Morbius. Well he used to have Morbius. As the years had passed Milo and Morbius had grown apart. They were still good friends and Milo knew he could count on Morbius for anything but the more the doctor stayed at the lab the farther away it seemed their meetings would be. Milo blamed Martine for the distance. He wasn’t entirely wrong. The two doctors seemed to be growing more and more intimate as the days passed. You wondered if Martine had told Morbius about how she felt. It wasn't an easy task, you knew that all too well. 

Milo didn’t know about your love for him. You'd never talked to him about how you felt. There was never a good time for that type of conversation. When he wasn’t busy handling something for Morbius he was stuck in bed due to his sickness. Besides you weren’t certain he’d believe you anyway. Milo had this idea, a really stupid one, that he wasn’t attractive. Girls didn’t usually hit on him when he went out and he’d somehow linked that to his appearance.

“No one wants to be with a sick man.”

He’d blurted that out one night on your walk. You’d almost told him how you felt but the nerves had gotten the best of you. You didn't want him to think you pitied him because you didn't. You loved him like this and you’d love him even if he was different. Not that you’d ever expect him to change. Not in a drastic way anyway. 

You made your way through the hall going towards the kitchen. You placed the bags from the market on the counter as you called out Milo's name.

“They didn’t have burger patties so I had to settle for ground beef. Okay?”

No answer. You frowned at the silence, your eyes scanning the room for signs that Milo was home. Your gaze fell onto his cane on the floor. Milo couldn’t leave the house without his cane which meant he was here. But where exactly was he? 

You heard a thumping sound above you, leaning your head back to look at the ceiling. The sound was coming from Milo's room. You walked over to the elevator pushing the button to the second floor.  You tapped your foot against the metal floor, fingers moving on your thighs as you waited for the doors to open. The second they did the sound of music became louder. You moved towards Milos' room knocking at the door before entering. Light streamed into the bedroom from the closet. What in the world was he doing? 

“Milo what’s with the….”

Your body froze at the closet door, eyes widening at the sight before you. You watched Milo dance around with his eyes closed. Your eyes scanned his body, curiosity filling your mind as you realized the way Milo looked. He looked healthy. Truly healthy. Not “on a good day” sort of healthy. Running a marathon kind of healthy. Where did all those muscles come from? 

Milo opened his eyes to look at himself in the mirror but instead his gaze fell on your reflection. Your mouth was slightly parted and there was this unusual look in your eyes. He felt an urge to cover his body, his subconscious telling him to hide himself from you. But then he caught the way your eyes moved over his body. You liked it. You liked the way he looked. The moment he realized that his chest puffed up drawing more attention to his chiseled body and causing your breath to speed up. Milo called out your name, moving slowly towards you. You watched him make his way to you with ease.

“Milo your leg.”

“Neat isn't it?”

He gave a small spin stopping a few steps away from you. Your eyes raked over his body, stopping on the smirk on his face.

“What’s wrong darling? Don’t like my new look?”

“I always liked the way you look.”

The words tumbled out of your lips before you could stop them causing you to place a hand over your mouth as Milo’s eyebrows quirked up.

“Is that so?”

The truth is Milo had always felt something for you but he never acted on it. He never thought you saw him as anything other than the sick teeanger you’d met years ago. But now, watching the way your breath sped up the closer he got to you and the way your tongue peaked out to wet your lips every once in a while, he could tell he’d been wrong. 

“How is this possible? I mean how did you-”

“Shh darling.”

Milo placed a hand on your cheek moving some stray hairs behind your years. 

“How doesn't matter now. The “what”  is far more important?”

“What do you mean?”

“I haven't felt this strong…well…ever. So I'm curious as to what I can do. If you know what I mean.”

You swallowed dry as Milo leaned his face closer to you, his lips almost touching yours.

“And I was wondering….”

“Yeah?”

“If you wanted to help me find out?”

“Fuck yes.”

You wrapped your arms around Milos neck pulling him down into a passionate kiss. His hands snaked down your body settling on your ass with a harsh squeeze. You groaned into his mouth, your legs moving up to wrap themselves around Milos waist. He tugged you up with ease. Your hips brushed against his hard on causing him to let out a moan. 

“Where do you want me to fuck you darling here or in my bed?”

“Bed please.”

“Such a polite thing ei?”

Milo kicked open the doors making his way to his bed. You let out a small gasp when he threw you on the bed, the mattress bouncing slightly.  You pushed yourself onto your elbows watching as Milo moved to unbuckle his pants.

“Let me.”

The man glanced down at you with a grin which you returned. You shuffled yourself to the edge of the bed accepting Milos extended hand. Once you’d gotten to your feet you moved out of the way forcing Milo to turn around and take your place. He followed your directions, taking a seat at the edge of the bed and spreading his legs slightly. You got on your knees before him, your hands working on his belt. You reached into his pants cupping his dick in your hand for a moment before pulling down his underwear. His dick sprung up and you drooled at the sight. Milos slender frame had given you the impression he would have a slim cock but you had been wrong. His dick was thick and long. You glanced up at Milo being greeted with a worried look. 

“Milo, I can't believe you’ve been hiding this beauty from me.”

“You like it? It’s not too-uh-small or anything.”

You let out a laugh. Bless this man.

“It’s perfect.”

Before Milo could retaliate you wrapped your mouth around his dick. Milo’s hands went straight to your head gripping your hair to ground himself. 

“Ah fuck-ugh-good fucking girl…shit.”

“That good huh?”

“Don’t know how long I've wanted you darling.”

“Yeah? Should have told me. I’ve been touching myself to the thought of you for the past four years.”

“Good lord-ugh!”

You opened your mouth as much as you could, taking Milos dick as deep as possible as you told your tongue around his shaft.

“I wanted to-uhm-fuck you at that-fuck-stupid benefit party.”

You’d never taken Milo for a talker during sex but you didn't mind it. You hummed around his dick signalling to him you were listening and causing him to buck his hips.

“You wore that fucking black dress…ah ugh…could see every fucking curve.”

You remembered the dress he was talking about.  You still had it in your closet. You’d have to remember to wear it again. You removed your lips from Milos dick replacing them with your hands.

“If you’d told me I would have let you. There was a wonderful little counter in the bathroom we could have used.”

“Dirty girl.”

“Like you’re any better.”

“Oh you have no idea.”

There was a sombre tone in Milo's voice but you chose to ignore it. Your hands moved faster against Milos dick making him moans grow louder. You could tell he was close to cumming so you decided to take him in your mouth once again. After one particular suck Milo called out your name and you felt his seed spilling down your throat. You removed your lips from his dick swallowing before sticking your tongue out proudly to show Milo what you did.

“You’re going to be the death of me darling.” 

He wiped the spit from the corner of your mouth before leaning down to capture your lips in his.

“You turn, pretty girl.”

You and Milo had been going at it for hours. His stamina seemed to be everlasting. Your hands latch onto Milos back as he thrusts into you, his arms caging you beneath his body. He's going at a brutal speed, making your eyes roll to the back of your head as your body prepares for another orgasm. You are so close but before you reach your high Milos thrusts start to sputter. You open your eyes to look at him expecting him to look at you with a teasing grin or a cocky smirk but he doesn’t. In fact his eyes don’t meet yours.

“Milo?”

“Shit…i”

“What is it?”

“Darling i…fuck not now.”

“Milo what is it? Talk to me.”

Milo raises his head to look at you and you're startled by the way he looks. The healthy glow he’s had up until now is completely gone. He looks like he usually does: pale and tired.You can feel Milos leg shaking next to yours. 

“I need i…”

“Tell me. Lucian, tell me what you need dear.”

“Blood.”

“What?”

“I need blood.”

You thought you’d heard him wrong but the way his face twisted when he repeated the word shows you you’d understood correctly. You should have freaked out. That would have been the correct response. But when it came to Milo you never seemed to have a clear head. Milo's leg gave out beneath him causing his body to fall into you, his lips touching your neck. You felt him open his mouth, his tongue lapping over your vein before closing it abruptly

“No. Not her.”

“Lucian…”

“It’s okay, I would never hurt you.”

“I know.”

You stayed silent for a movement trying to make up your mind.

“Take mine.”

“What?”

“My blood. Take my blood.”

Milo's body begged him to listen to you but his mind stopped him from taking action. If he lost control he’d suck you dry and he couldn’t deal with that risk. Not when you meant so much to him.

“I’m not in control i could hurt-

“No you won’t. You never would.”

Milo raised his head to look into your eyes seeing the certainty in them. You trusted him. You truly did.

“Take what you need. It’s alright. I’ll be fine.”

Milo hesitated for a moment before leaning down so that his mouth was on your neck. He could hear your heart beating and could feel every twinge of your muscles. Your perfume was strong against his nostrils but the smell went away as soon as his teeth pierced into your skin. You let out a yelp, your nails latching onto Milo’s back as he sucked your neck. You could feel the blood leaving your body, the feeling making you dizzy. 

Your blood was the best thing Milo had tasted in his entire life. It tasted exactly like he imagined you would: sweet and silky. He lost himself in the pleasure, his hips rutting against you as his strength returned to him. You called out his name forcing him to detach himself from your neck. This time when your eyes fell onto his face the healthy glow was present once again. Your neck felt tender and your body had gone slightly limp but you forgot all about it once Milo started thrusting against you at a brutal pace once more. Your toes curled and your eyes rolled into the back of your head. You came with a shout of Milo's name. He followed short after, spilling his seed into your cunt.

You knew something wasn’t right, normal people don’t drink blood and get strong. But that was a problem for later. Right now you had to focus on getting your body to come back to earth.

#morbius #marvel smut #marvel fanfiction #marvel #smut fanfiction #smut #marvel movies #Dr micheal morbius #jared leto #matt smith #matt smith smut #mcu #mcu smut #milo #milo smut #morbius the living vampire #morbius x reader #milo x reader #lucian x reader #matt smith x reader #morbius fanfiction #marvel cinematic universe #marvel mcu #vampire #vampire smut

[jeansplaytoy]

“Ain’t shit.” - c.springer

(part one here.) (part three here.)

part 2

when you and your toxic ass boyfriend, connie springer got into what seemed to be your final argument.

cursing, mentions of cheating, arguing, sexual references(?), violence, alcohol and weed, long part.

sorry for taking so long , so this gon be a lil long to make up for it. hope u like it.

you walked through the crowds of people standing outside of the house party. “damn” you mumbled to yourself, wondering why so many people were outside instead of inside.

which was funny, because as soon as you walked inside, there were a bunch of people. not even the average party you went to, but whatever.

many people spoke to you, and being well known, that wasn’t anything new either. it was a week after you and connie’s argument, and you really wanted to get out of your feelings about him, or whatever you were in in the first place.

you wasn’t sad or nothing. you didn’t think you were. but you definitely weren’t happy about the relationship ending, and you always planning on how to get your getback, or maybe you would’ve just let things flow how they did.

you made your way right to the kitchen, not bothering to speak to anyone else. you just wanted to find mikasa and sasha… wherever they were.

and hope you didn’t see connie anywhere, knowing his ass, he was always with his lil group. you rolled your eyes to yourself, pouring yourself a shot as ‘SICKO MODE’ bumped through your ears. you took the shot and shook your head a little, looking around.

that’s when you saw mikasa and sasha making their way through the crowd. smiling to yourself, you walked over to them. “what the fuck took y’all so long?” you said loudly, the music being so loud, people could barely hear themselves speak.

“bitch we was looking for you” mikasa laughed before scanning your outfit. “damnnn, you showing out huh? you finally over connie?” sasha started to grin at you.

you smirked a little and shrugged. “niggas dead to me.” you said before grabbing their hands. “let’s get drunk.” you went back to the kitchen.

from another part of the house was connie, eren and ony, smoking weed. “where yo woman at?” ony asked, looking around for you. eren laughed, barely being able to open his eyes. “not my woman.” connie mumbled while shaking his head. some other girl was beside him all cuddled up.

some girl he knew you probably wouldn’t like.

he wasn’t really that worried about you, honestly, but something inside of him just wanted to piss you off. he wanted to piss you off.

or he claimed he wasn’t worried about you. that’s what he told everybody.

“see you moved on.” eren looked at the girl beside him. “worry bout yo’ own girl. where mikasa at anyway?” connie frowned at eren, taking a drag of the blunt in between his fingers before man spreading. the girl beside him exhaled and laid across his lap, her ass right there for him to see.

he looked down at her and laughed a little, resting his hand there for comfort.

“ion know. prolly somewhere shaking her ass wit’ sasha and y/n.” he rolled his eyes before looking around the house. his eyes landed on you, and your outfit. “oh i see y/n. sasha and mikasa somewhere near her, i know that much.” he said.

ony turned around to see where you were.

connie’s eyes rested on the floor for a second before he looked up, the blunt still in between his lips with his free hand lightly patting the girls ass. “hm.” he said, scanning your outfit. he shook his head a little. “she know damn well she don’t be dressing that exposed when she wit’ me.” he mumbled, a light smile appearing and disappearing on his face.

“but she ain’t wit’ yo ass no more. what make you think she not finna be showing out for these niggas?” ony laughed, shaking his head before looking down at his phone, passing his blunt to eren.

“ion care who she fuck wit. she ain’t mines no more, remember?” he said, looking down at the girl that was still on his lap.

“what the hell eren looking at?” mikasa squinted. “eren?” you frowned while pouring yourself another cup of tequila, drinking it before looking over to where she was looking with the cup still to your mouth.

“that mean connie here too. oh, he right there.” sasha pointed. “with some girl across his lap— hold on.” she frowned, sitting on the counter and moving her head around a little to look past the people that were blocking her view. “ain’t that that brook bitch? the one wit the orange hair?” she frowned.

you put your cup down, frowning and stepping back a little to see. “hell yeah.” you mumbled before looking at sasha and mikasa. “he fucking wit bitches you don’t like now. petty ass.” mikasa shook her head, exhaling smoke through her mouth as she did, passing the blunt to sasha.

you nodded. “i’ll be back.” you said, walking from the kitchen to the other crowd of people.

now, you knew that normally if connie caught you with one of his lil opps, he would be pissed off. heavily. but you wasn’t together. right? he could fuck with the hoes you didn’t like, but you couldn’t fuck with the niggas he ain’t like? yeah. nah, that was not how it was about to go.

so you made sure to walk right over to another nigga. it was a lot of people connie didn’t like that would never fuck with you or connie just in fear that connie would beat they asses.

but floch? he wasn’t cute to you, but you knew connie couldn’t stand his ass. but since you knew floch always wanted you, deep down…

you walked right over to his group, annie, reiner, ymir, and historia. you grabbed floch’s hand. “lemme excuse this boy.” you said to them, leading floch to another part of the living room. before you even let him speak, you wrapped your hands around his neck, pulling him closer to you.

and he definitely wasn’t gonna hesitate to wrap his arms around your waist, leaning in. as soon as your lips touched, you closed your eyes. you really wanted nothing to do with his ass, but whatever, it was fun. and wasn’t that bad.

his hands made their way to your skirt, grabbing a handful of your ass and squeezing, making you stand on your tippy toes a little.

why was he lowkey good at this?

you smiled a little as he moved his kisses from your lips to your jaw, and your neck. “damn you smell good.” he whispered against your neck, making you hum.

“damn connie.” ony said, rolling up another blunt on his lap. “what?” connie asked, his blunt resting between his lips as he stared at his phone, letting his legs spread a little. “she fucking wit’ the opps now.” eren said, grabbing his styrofoam cup and taking a sip.

“huh?” connie glanced up from his phone, raising his eyebrows a little, not really listening to what they were saying. “y/n letting floch all up on her.” ony laughed a little, looking at eren as he did, who also laughed.

“what?” connie frowned, sitting up as his eyes darted through the crowd, looking for you.

when he saw you, he paused his movements, taking the blunt from his mouth and putting it out in a nearby ashtray. he lifted the girl off of his lap and stood up, tossing his phone to ony and pulling his sweatpants up.

“connie, don’t go over there tryna fight nobody.” eren said, smiling as he watched connie. “nah, i’m not.” connie said before starting to walk over to you.

while floch continued to pepper your neck with kisses, when you opened your eyes, all you could see was connie, and he was right there.

you laughed a little, watching him walk over to you.

“ight, stop that shit.” he said, grabbing your arm and pulling you away from floch as he lightly pushed floch away from you. “don’t touch me.” you laughed and shook your head, moving beside floch.

“oh so you wanna fuck wit the opps now?” connie raised his eyebrows at you. his face showed he was dead serious. “okay, and? we not even together no more. and you can rub all up on another bitch i don’t like?” you furrowed your eyebrows at him.

“who the bitch?” the brooklyn girl popped up behind connie. “you the bitch!” you pointed at her, finger all up in her face. and your nails were hella long, almost poking her in the eye. “bitch get’cho finger out my face!” she smacked your hand.

“or what, cus ion like all that barking shit.” you said, stepping closer to her. connie got in front of her. “don’t start that shit, bro.” he said, looking down at you. “oh so you can defend that bitch?” you said, tryna get past him, but you felt floch grab your waist and pull you towards him. “don’t even do it, she ain’t worth it.” he said.

connie put his hands down that were originally tryna stop brooklyn from getting to you.

“on my momma you better get’cho hands off her.” he said, staring at floch with low eyes. “man, or what?” floch held his hands out, pushing you over to the side a little to face connie.

“man i’ll pop yo ass.” connie laughed a little. you saw eren and ony stand up to view the scene a little closer and sasha and mikasa walked over to you.

you moved your gaze from connie and floch and back to brooklyn who was staring at you. “what hoe, you still got a problem or sum?” you frowned at her. “y/n do not play wit’ me right now i will beat yo ass.” she laughed.

“nah i really don’t know who you talkin to. you really think that nigga want you, bitch he gon play you too.” you laughed at her.

“bitch you just mad cus he rubbing on another female other than yo lame ass, get that shit outta here.” she laughed back at you. yeah no. you turned around and walked over to the kitchen, biting your nails off as you made your way over there.

you could still hear connie and floch arguing as most people looked at you. you bit your last nail off before taking off your hoop earrings. “gotta mess up my nails for this hoe.” you mumbled to yourself as the people around you got louder by the second.

you turned around, taking off your shoes and putting them on the kitchen counter before walking over to her, not hesitating to throw a hard ass punch. it’s too bad she was too late to square up before tripping backwards on her own heel, taking you down with her.

everybody started screaming, and while you were on top of her, you could see out of the corner of your eye that floch and connie were fighting too. but too busy to pay attention, you kept throwing punches.

the music and people were still loud. you could hear people yelling “beat her ass” and “damnnn!” from the crowd around you two. she pushed you off of her and threw herself towards you, her heel hanging off her ankle. “dumb bitch!” she yelled, grabbing your hair.

she tried to swing you around, but you being stronger than her, slung her to the side, making her trip and fall on the wooden table, knocking drinks over and on her outfit.

“my weed bro!” eren yelled, grabbing your arm. “ight ight stop that shit!” ony grabbed your other arm, trying to pull you off of her.

she was already bleeding from the mouth and nose, a small knot forming on her head and her whole face turned red from anger or whatever she felt.

“bitch.” you mumbled, getting halfway slung around by ony as he led you outside. “come on, bruh.” he mumbled, walking down the steps. you huffed, tryna fix your hair as he sat you down on the porch.

you adjusted your short skirt and your shirt before looking back. “where’s my phone? i’m not staying at this dumbass party.” you mumbled.

“i’m bouda go get yo shit. stay. here. don’t leave, bro.” ony said, walking back in the house.

you sat by yourself, still running your hands through your hair. you felt a burning sensation on your finger, looking at your nail realizing half of it broke, despite you biting it off. “fuck.” you whispered, dabbing the blood on your shirt and sighing.

that’s when you heard everybody coming out the side door of the house. but being in the front, you didn’t see until they started walking to the front.

it was a bunch of people surrounding connie and floch separately, apparently attempting to split them up.

you could tell connie was pissed off. like, real pissed off. that’s one reason he hated fighting, because when he got mad, he couldn’t stop being mad. and he hated being mad, so that pissed him off even more.

eren and everyone else tried to calm him down, and he was huffing. “ight bro get the fuck away from me.” he said to the crowd. but obviously they weren’t gonna do that.

you stared over there, not really thinking of anything. connie stood there, everybody scolding him for fighting. nobody wanted to get next to you though, in fear you would punch somebody else. because that’s what you normally did. but for some reason you were barely mad.

while he exhaled again, looking around to find somewhere that no one was all in his face, he made eye contact with you.

you stared back. his eyes didn’t leave yours until he rolled them, walking back into the house, where that same crowd followed him.

i feel like this is bad & all over the place. lmk if u want a p3, i love youuuu.😣🫶🏾

#aot x reader #aot x y/n #connie springer #connie x reader #aot connie #connie x black reader #connie x black y/n #connie springer x reader #connie springer x black reader #connie springer x y/n #connie headcanons #connie springer headcanons #connie x y/n

[ahoycaptainautumn]

Fated Mates Part 6

Synopsis: you, a vengeful vampire slayer, cross paths with the devious and handsome Astarion. Instead of a stake through the heart, Astarion finds something he thought impossible for vampire spawn. A mate.

In your travels towards a hopeful cure at the Selunite Temple you come across a small village of travelers. With a psychic nearly giving away Astarion's biggest secret you find company elsewhere. Astarion does not approve, to say the least.

Astarion whips the openings of his tent open as he trudges inside. This was not good. Not good at all. He could nearly laugh at himself for believing for one moment he had any power over this bond. That there was even a  possibility of controlling you through it. It felt as if it controlled him more than anything else. He stomps over to his chest and digs through to find the mating book he had found in the last town's library. He flips forward to the section on vampiric mates. He obsessively reads over and over again. There has to be a way to break this incessant bond. To end this crushing weight of it inside his chest. He couldn’t take it. The vulnerability to love and be loved. No one could love a monster like him. Nor should they be forced to. 

You on the other hand are oblivious to Astarions plight. You spend the rest of your time checking in on all your teammates and packing up camp. It would be a few days before getting to the temple. According to the map you “borrowed” from a drunken traveler, there was a town in between where you needed to go. You met with each companion to let them know your plan and direction you were going. The only one not outside was Astarion. You grumble your discontent and make way to his tent. Astarions pointed ears perk up at the all too familiar sound of your boots hitting the ground. He panics, not wanting you to even get a hint with the very obvious book he was reading. Whipping his head back and forth he notices the raunchy romance novel he had snagged from someone at the tavern. He quickly replaces that book's sleeve on top of the cover of the mating book. Thankfully he does so just in time for you to appear at his tent's opening. You push back the flaps and peer inside. He gives you a cheeky smile and waves. 

“Just catching up on some reading, are we?” You ask. Your eyes finally fall onto the cover of the book. A shirtless man embracing a frail woman with his tongue knee deep in her mouth. You make a gag noise as you shrivel your nose in disgust.

“Oh you know, I have to study even on the road.” Astarion jokes. You stick your tongue out at him. 

“Vile.” You fake gag. He quips an eyebrow up at you. 

“You didn’t seem to think so.” His words come out as sweet as honey. It’s too easy to play with you, to tease you. Your whole body turns red and you swear you might just jump out of your skin in embarrassment. You shake your head as if to rid the words from the air. 

“I- well- we are leaving in two minutes blood sucker!” You divert your gaze away from him and practically run over yourself away from him. You mutter something along the way about hating him. He can’t help but chuckle at your embarrassed state. He throws his head into his hands and groans. Yes this really, really, wasn’t good at all. 

-

Besides stopping for one meal and a few bathroom breaks you are still about a days way from the next town. You had been following the path forward as you noticed more and more travelers coming and going. As you all get closer towards town you come upon what seems to be a small village. Hundreds of tents propped up in a large and lush valley. The smells of a market wafts towards your company. Cheer and merriment with the dancing sounds of music can be heard above all else. It is nearly nightfall and you don’t see the harm in checking it out. Though you get more than a few grumbles from Lae’zel and Astarion. You ignore them and lead the way into the heart of the tents. Calling it a small village was just about exactly what it was. Hordes of people all coming and going from tents and impromptu shops. There’s an alley just of multicolored canopies holding food stands. Meat hangs from sturdy clothing lines and fruits overflowing in barrels. The intoxicating smell of roasting pig flows from a large fire nearby. Other sites have signs enticing people to buy jewels or tarot readings. Your stomach grumbles and with a look you can tell everyone is thinking the same. 

“We will spend the night here and round back up in the morning and set off first thing.” you tell the others. Everyone nods wildly, already eyeing different stands to venture off to. Some go in pairs while others wander off on their lonesome. You were just about to do the same before Astarion came to your side. You give him an exasperated face. He only gives a brazen smile in return. 

“And what do you think you’re doing?” you ask, folding your arms in front of you. You lean on one leg and raise an eyebrow. You were hoping to find a nice hot meal and quiet. The latter not happening with Astarion around. 

“Oh come on, you could use the company. Besides, it’s not like I’m going to be eating anything here. Unless you’d rather me find some delectable company.'' His toothy grin only emphasizes what he would like to be doing with those canines. A weird pang hits you and you shake your head. 

“I do not need another angry mob, especially because one of my companions ate somebody.” you sigh. His eyes perk up at your words.

“Companions are we?” he stoops at the waist to look you in the eyes with his grin still locked in place. You bristle, tripping over your words. 

“Companions only in travel , I absolutely assure you.” you bite back. He only laughs at your scowl and equally sour words. 

“And here I thought we were mortal enemies. Seems I’ve made progress already.” He laughs. You point a finger into his chest and seethe your next words from between your teeth.

“Dream on blood sucker. Now let’s get going, I want some food.” You retract your hand and walk forward without a glance to see if Astarion is following. He quickly adjusts and follows behind you. He tells himself he doesn’t want to be in your company. If the universe hadn’t given him a chance mate he would of been spending this time either drinking or fucking, or better, both. But there was a gnawing feeling at the thought of you not being near him. Without you in his line of vision how was he to know you were okay? That you hadn’t gotten yourself into some mess? Or worse, courting with some random person in one of these tents. He can’t help the way that thought makes his anger flare. His teeth grind on each other and his hands ball into fists. Stupid mate instincts. Just as he has that thought a drunken patron from one of the bar tents nearly stumbles into you. You are too transfixed looking between meal stalls to notice. Astarion’s hand snakes around your hips and pulls your hip to his. You stumble into his side just as the man falls over on himself next to you. Your eyes follow the man now scrambling on the ground to Astarion’s death glare he gives him. His nails dig into your hip as he squeezes you in close. Your hand comes up to his chest to balance yourself. Astarion’s glare nearly stabs daggers into the man's eyes. The man gets one look at Astarion’s flaming rage evident in his face and body language and he clambers up. He just barely gets an apology out before Astarions voice overpowers his. 

“Watch where you are going imbecile.” Astarions voice is glacier cool and it has the man running as if for his life. You swat at Astarion which breaks the spell of anger that was only climbing inside of him. He looks to you and finds you giggling. 

“Astarion! It really was not that big of a deal! I can handle some drunken fool.”  

“Well someone has to protect our leader.” Astarion jokes.

“I fended you off quite well in our original meeting now didn’t I?” you shake yourself out of Astarions rock solid hold and tug his hand forward. “Come, I’m practically starving.” Astarion shakes as if ridding himself of a clinging sensation of emotion. He hadn’t even thought before grabbing onto you. Of the drunk getting his filth all over you. Something about it riled him up more than he would've ever thought. The bond inside him tugged for attention, begging for Astarion to heed its gift. He swallowed that feeling down and weaved through the stalls alongside you. You finally stop inside a stall and grab a plate of food and ale from a vendor. There’s a large picnic area filled with tables and chairs off to the side with a band just beginning to tune up for a performance. You find a small empty table and sit down to enjoy your food. Astarion sits across from you and props his head on his hand in boredom. He people watches a bit before you cut into his thinking. 

“Do you ever miss it?” you ask in between mouthfuls. His head snaps back to you and gives you a quizzical look. You make a gesture down to your nearly finished food. 

“Oh, uh no. Well, it’s not like I can even remember it truthfully.” he responds. 

“What do you mean, how long has it been since you were, you know, not what you are.” you ask. He nearly laughs at the hoops you jump through to avoid the word vampire.

“Darling it's been nearly two centuries since I’ve been turned.” he replies. Ale nearly flies from your mouth in surprise. You gulp down what you can and cough before you wipe your mouth. 

“You’re over two hundred years old?” you asked incredulously. 

“I know, I look barely a day over 30.” he smiles, swiping nonexistent lint from his shoulders, all bravado. 

“More like I can’t believe I kissed such a geriatric man.” you tease. Astarion flares at your words.

“G- Geriatric! Geriatric! I assure you I don’t fuck like a-” your laugh cuts him off. 

“You’re so easy to get riled up!” you belly laugh before you finish your ale. He mumbles some insult or another as he pouts. You stand from your seat and cock your head at Astarion. “Are you going to continue to follow me or are you going to sit and pout about being old?” you ask. He pushes off the table and stands to follow you. You get lost back into the crowd and look through the different merchants. As you eye through weaponry and treasures you walk past a tall tabaxi woman. She stands in front of her tent with a sign labeled “Psychic Readings - 10 pence”. She's dressed in embellished azure robes with several silver necklaces looped around her neck. She waves at the both of you. 

“My my, the oracle has much to say about your future.” she entices. Your eyebrow perks up but Astarion only tries to steer you away with a very obvious annoyed face. 

“Tricksters, the lot of them.” he explains. 

“Tricky is what you have swimming around in that brain of yours.” she responds nonchalantly as she turns into her tent. You give Astarion a stunned look and make to follow her. 

“There’s no way a trickster knows that! Come on, let’s just see.” you pull Astarion along with you. Though he doesn’t know how she could know about the tadpoles he still holds the thought of her being nothing but a con man. Not that he doesn’t appreciate the hustle, just that it won’t work on someone who once conned just as much. Astarion plops into a plush chair next to you. The tabaxi woman sits on the other side of the table with a cloudy orb sitting between you all. The tent is filled with a large prayer stand to a goddess neither of you are familiar with. Idols and offerings line the counters and tables around the circle of candles set up in the goddesses name. Golden candelabras line any other open space with oriental rugs covering the inside completely. The psychic places her hand upon the orb and swirls her palms around it till murky clouds appear from within. 

“Now, both of you place your palms upon the crystal ball. The oracle will grace me with a vision.” she explains. You immediately clip in.

“Can she tell us about the tadpoles?” you ask feverishly. The tabaxi woman only shakes her head. 

“I do not control the subject of the vision, I am only a voice for the beyond.” she explains. Astarion throws up his hands in irritation with a scowl on his lips. 

“Then what good is this? A waste of time!” he frowns. He crosses his arms in front of him, ready to leave. You pat his thigh to make him look at you  and try to give a reassuring smile.

“It’s worth a shot, right? Besides, what else can it tell us besides you being older than 200?” you joke. His irritation from the woman gets redirected at you. 

“I should've never told you that! Fine, we can do the weird mystical orb then.” He looks away from you and throws his hand onto the ball impatiently. You place your hand partially on top of his and look to the psychic for a sign. The slits of her eyes get replaced with bright white, taking over her entire eyes. Her paws face upwards on the table and you notice the scripture tattooed onto them begins to hum in equally bright light. The candelabras flames shake as a wind rushes into the tent and wraps around you all. You can feel in your bones the power sweeping over the tabaxi before she even speaks. 

“What is ancient can not be broken. What is meant, will be. Love is slow but it is strong. What begins as hate will blossom to the heart. One for another. A solution and a curse.” her voice is otherworldly, coming from somewhere far and primitive. A cold shiver wracks your body and your voice shakes.

“What- what does that mean?” you can barely get out. Her white orbs look over to you. 

“Feelings can be denied but I see you, and he will too.” she responds before the wind dies from inside the tent. The candles go back to their full strength and her eyes return to the green cat-like that they were previous. Your whole body stills as your mind goes over and over what she says. Maybe, sure you thought Astarion was physically attractive. That much is obvious to anyone with a brain. And maybe you enjoyed the banter you two had. And yeah maybe you felt a terror grip you seeing his injuries the other day. And maybe, just maybe, there was a small part of you that felt ravished by his touch. By the electricity and pure passion that welled deep in your body at his bite. And how you wanted it again. You look over to Astarion to check his reaction and immediately wish you hadn’t. His face is of revulsion. His nose is scrunched with his eyebrows furrowed. He looks over at you and you can barely breathe. He looks nothing short of nauseated. You slam your hands down as you break from your seat. The ornate chair goes flying behind you at your actions. Your face is hot with shame and you can feel wet tears welling up in your eyes. You throw the 10 pence down on the table and make haste in getting far far away from the psychic and Astarion. You can’t believe that for even a second he would have another reaction. You felt stupid, and a little heart broken if not also confused at your foreign feelings. 

On the other hand Astarion had heard the woman's words and felt as if a bucket of ice water had been dumped onto him. Here he was trying to get information on the tadpoles and the bloody woman had just given away his biggest secret to the exact person he didn’t want to hear it. Astarion has to hold back a snarl at the woman. His anger and disgust with the woman coming to him fast. He holds a breath he knows he doesn’t need and finally faces your stare. You look like a fawn caught by a wolf. Your whole body shivers and your eyes are blown wide. You bite your lip and look as if you are about to leap from your seat if he were to make a move. He had never seen you so.. Scared. He is about to say something, about how ridiculous this all was and how this woman must be a lunatic before you leap up and out of the tent. Astarion barely has time to turn his head before you're out the door and rounding a corner. He doesn’t bother wasting the time to lash out at the woman and tries to follow after you. But he immediately loses you. His heart clamps down around itself and a shot of fear races up his spine. Where in the hells were you? Where was his mate?

-

Sloshing amber liquid dribbles down your chin as you finish another round of ambrosia. You had run as fast as your feet could carry you until you were sure Astarion would not be able to follow you. You needed to be anywhere else. Your mind needed to be anywhere else. You found a liquor stall and helped yourself to a spot. The orc bartender drying a glass came to you and asked what he could do for you. 

“What do you have for someone needing to forget someone?” you ask solemnly. The orc had only given a slight chuckle before reaching deep into a locked chest behind the counter. He brings a glass and the large bottle to you. 

“Ambrosia. ‘Pose to be blessed with a crave beyond the bottle. You’ll have someone else to forget with that.” he offers to you with a wink. You had greedily poured yourself a glass and now found yourself nearly finishing the bottle. Your vision blurs and doubles. The liquor warms your being and turns your brain to mush. Your limbs feel loose and free and all you can do is smile and laugh at nothing. You’ve never felt so good. So free. Like you could dance the night away. Just as you finish off the bottle and pay the kind orc you hear the strumming of a band. Your ears perk up at the sound and you follow it. You want nothing more than to dance. To forget that stupid handsome vampire and dance with someone half as pretty and forget. As if your thoughts bring truth the picnic area had now been turned into a dance floor. Carpets and furs are thrown haphazardly on the ground creating a space for dancing. The speed of the music is hot and fast. People of all kinds dance and grind against each other as magical lights in varied colors twinkle on strings above you. It creates a vision of neon lights strobing over the swaying bodies. You rush to meet them and enter into this haven. You make your way onto the floor and lose any inhibition you still had left. Your hips twirl as you run your hands over your body and hair. Gods you’ve never felt so so very good. You sway and dance in time to the music. A man's body comes pressed to the back of yours. Your hands fly up and back to grab onto his neck and shoulder. You turn your face to look over at him. A dark haired elf smiles down at you with twinkling green eyes. Handsome, not as much as Astarion, but he would do. You give a seductive smile and grind against him. His hands fly down to grip your hips as he moves with you. Your head finds a home into the nape of his neck as you give a bold kiss to his collarbone. He gives you a smile in return and nestles his head next to yours. Just as your lips were about to seal over one anothers a clawed hand rips him away from you. You’re still too drunk on ambrosia to catch the action and you nearly fall over from the loss of balance. Astarion grabs your wrists and catches you to right yourself. He stands between you and the elf. 

“What the hells? What do you think you’re doing?” the man shouts at Astarion. Normally Astarion feels ice cold but the caged inferno of rage inside of him makes his skin nearly hot. Astarion bares his teeth and nearly rips the man apart. Astarion feels as if he could tear through the center of the earth over and over again. He would take on a thousand men before allowing one to touch you so eagerly. 

“Taking what is mine.” Astarion growls before he turns and hoists you up and over his shoulder. You yelp in surprise and weakly attempt to punch on Astarion’s back to make him put you down. Astarion pays it no mind and trudges away from the dance floor and towards where his tent is on the outskirts of the gathering lies in waiting.

“The hells do you think you are doing? I was quite enjoying my company!” you argue, your words slurring. Astarion lets out a deep snarl at your words.

“Not anymore.” he curtly replies. 

“What is it to you? It’s not like you enjoy my company so I had to make my own!” you counter with a huff. Astarion nearly stops but continues on.

“What in the world gave you that impression?” he asks. 

“I saw how you looked at me in the psychic’s tent! You look at me with disgust!” you huff. You hadn’t noticed you had made it back to Astarion’s tent before he drops you on his abundant pillows. Your back hits your plush surroundings as your limbs try to cooperate to sit you up even a bit. Astarion drops to his knees in front of you with each leg on the sides of yours. His hands hold him in place on either side of your head as you find yourself lost in his crimson eyes.

“And how am I looking at you now?” he whispers. His words cause a stir in your abdomen and your body whines to touch his. His pupils are blown wide as his tongue wipes over his sharp teeth.

“Hungry.” you barely reply, clenching your aching thighs together.

“Starved.”

part five here

part seven here

comment below and ill reply when the next one is up :)

#smut #reader insert #astarion #astarion x mc #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #astarion x you #bd3 #mates #balders gate 3 #baldurs gate 3 #baldurs gate astarion #baldurs gate iii #slow burn #enemies to lovers

[lidiasloca]

delicately (cassian x reader)

summary: when cassian meets reader, he doesn't think past her privileged life. but what if there is more behind her appearance? what if, who she really is, is meant to meet with him on a cold night at the court of nightmares for a reason?

warnings: mentions of abuse.

(angst)

part one

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄☆

You enter the revel. Music vivid and people joyous. Not exactly how you are feeling.

Your dress is thigh enough that you have trouble breathing, and your heels are making your only task to be not trip over in front of everyone. Besides, of course, your life-long task; don’t embarrass your father, and don’t put shame on your good name’.

“Walk straighter,” your father tells you, walking next to you. You obey, of course, and say nothing. Like always. “Keir is expecting me to agree to some plans of his. While I am with him, you will stay in our table. Don’t go anywhere else, and talk to only those worth our time. Understood?”

You nod. 

…

You suppose a revel could be considered fun, depending on who you asked. The ones dancing, for instance, seem to know how a good time looks like. Feels like. 

But as you are siting silently on your chair, with no one else around the table, you know you aren’t one of those people. You are just people watching; at least that’s how you have always felt. 

You were watching as your father shouted at your mother. You were watching as he insulted you. You were watching as he decided who you’d eventually marry. You were watching as he gave you orders on how to not do anything he wouldn’t do. 

You always just watched. 

A loud laugh makes you snap back to the present. A very loud laugh, one that feels genuine. You turn your head to find the General of the Night Court. ‘A bastard-born’, your father had told you. ‘We want nothing to do with him,’ he had ordered. 

But he had said nothing about staring. And he is… well, worth staring. 

The General is still laughing at what a beautiful blond girl is saying. You recognize her to be Morrigan, Keir’s daughter. She is wearing a beautiful red dress that… shows. You hate thinking like that, judging her -or any female- for the size of their cleavage, but your father had told you… No. 

You weren’t your father. 

Sick of this whole place and your own mind, you stand up and start walking to the closest terrace. Remembering his orders, you can only pray your father will take longer with Keir wherever they are. 

After a minute of seeking and finding the crystal door, you are finally greeted with the cold chill of the night. And the terrace is deserted, thankfully. 

You go to the railing and rest your hands atop the steel, sighing. You feel more calmed now; you don’t mind the loud music, or the laughter, or the drunken shouting, but… but sometimes it feels a bit too much when you’re not part of any of it. 

“Are you not cold?”

You jump at the voice, which is deep enough that it comes across as scary, at least if you’re backwards to it. You turn to it and find in front of you the General of the Night Court’s armies. 

‘A bastard-born nobody. We want nothing to do with him’.

No. “Who are you?” you ask.

The male grins. “You don’t know who I am?” At the obvious cockiness in his words, you smirk shyly, moving your gaze to the floor. 

“I - I do.” You looked up again, meeting his hazel eyes. “But I don’t know your name,” you replied, mustering your tone to be flat, neutral, despite not feeling like that at all. 

“Ah.” And then silence. 

“Are you not going to tell me your name?”

“I asked you a question first,” he smiles, finding your confusion amusing. When you keep silent, he says. “I asked if you were cold, y/n?”

Oh. “How do you know my name?”

He chuckled, the sound so beautiful, so real. “Are you going to keep asking me questions before answering mine?” he jokes, shaking his head. “Didn’t your oh so rich and powerful father taught you manners?” 

Taught you manners? Your father? 

It’s a joke, you know it, but still… You turn to the railing again, needing suddenly something to hold you in place. He probably thinks you’re stupid, but you need to calm down, steady yourself from the memories that are appearing violently and uninvited into your mind.

“No. I’m sorry,” he tells you nervously, walking to your side. “I - sorry. I was joking. I didn’t mean it as an insult. At all.”

“I know,” you make yourself say, because you don’t want him to feel guilty, misinterpreting the situation. You definitely wouldn’t care if he talked badly about your father. You would most definitely join him. 

“Oh, then what is it?” 

You close your eyes against the now too cold air caressing your face. Goosebumps raise on your arms. You are cold. 

“I am cold,” you finally answer his previous question, and it’s obvious for the two of you that you’re ignoring his new question.

But he lets it go. “And I am Cassian.” You move your eyes to stare at him, at how the moonlight makes the planes of his face look even more beautiful than the light of the revel did. “And I know your name because you’re quite a persona around here. Your - your father is- well, you must know who he is,” he smiles.

Oh, you indeed know who he is. You and your mother know exactly who he is. 

Cassian must have seen the sadness in your eyes at the mention of him because he dares moving his hand to grab your wrist delicately. You look down to where his hand is now caressing yours, then look up when he whispers, “What is it with your father?”

“Nothing.”

You watch him watch you, his eyes assessing you. You can’t bare the intimacy of it all, the way he is reading you. 

So you pretend. “You are a general, right, Cassian?” you ask him, smiling faintly.

He isn’t fooled, you know that, but at least, he plays along and returns your smile, this one less genuine. “A general?” he echoes. “Well, I’m the general and commander of the Night Court's armies, more precisely.”

You let out a laugh. Gods, he is a bit arrogant. You are to tell him so, but when you look up, your breath gets caught at the way his eyes are regarding you, as if in awe. At you?

“Are you blushing?” he teases. A bit, had you said? No, he is arrogant. 

“I’m not.”

He raises one eyebrow, questioning. You turn your head to the night sky, denying him the sight of your reddened cheeks.

He chuckles, his hand moving from where he was holding your wrist up to your elbow. The caress he does across your arm makes you thank the cold for excusing the goosebumps.

“Then let me see, huh?” He pulls your arm carefully, lifting his other hand to place it on your chin. You chuckle as you resist from turning your face to him. 

He laughs, taking a step to you to have the upper hand; now towering over you, Cassian turns your face as easy as breathing.

He hums with exaggerated satisfaction, then says, “liar.”

You don’t reply. Not when you’re so busy looking into his eyes, now very close to yours. 

He strokes your cheek with his thumb, touching the red there. “Is the cold the reason why you’re blushing?” he whispers to you. No need to raise his voice when you two are so close. 

His eyes dart across every part of your face frantically, looking for your answer.

But your answer comes in form of a smile and the shake of your head.

He returns your smile. “Y/n?” 

“Cassian?” you murmur.

He blinks before saying softly, “Would you-"

“Y/N!”

Father.

You quickly detach yourself from Cassian’s hold, turning to your clearly mad father, who is walking, almost running, to you.

At the sight, Cassian takes your hand again, protecting you, ready to strike if needed. 

“Get away from her, you Illyrian brute!” your father shouts. You move your gaze to the general, and it breaks your heart the way he ducks his head slightly, in his eyes the weight of your father’s words.

“Father!” you bark.

But he ignores you, his eyes glaring to where Cassian hands hold yours tightly. “Stop touching her! Now!” 

Cassian turns to you, silently asking. You don’t want him to let go of your hand. Don’t want him to go. But your father… is better not to get him too mad. And he’s already bursting with rage.

And thinking about the consequences of this…

“Let go,” you manage to mumble weakly. And you see it in his face; you’ve hurt him. He thinks you don’t want your father to see you with him. You see it. 

And when he lets go of your hand, you feel… something. Something stronger and more powerful than anything you've ever felt. 

There’s a raw need to take his hand again, to follow the string between yours and his, that is getting longer with every step he takes away from you. 

The string between you. The string.

Your… mate.

“Cassian” you whisper. 

“Shut up!” Your father goes to grab your arm, pulling you to him. “We’re going home! Now!”

But you don’t stop. “Cassian!”

With tears in your eyes, you see him keep walking, only turning his head enough for you to make out his face profile in the obscurity, then he becomes just a silhouette in the night. 

And you can do nothing as he walks away, disappearing into the dark. 

You just watch. 

(next part)

-Characters by Saraah J. Maas

A bit of cliché(ness) won’t hurt anybody :)). my head hurts like really bad after spending about 4 hours writing. absolutley worth it, though; i really like how this turned out. hope you liked it aswell. next thing i'll be writing will be for more than this series. k, that's it. thank you and bye bye :)).

#cassian x reader #cassian angst #cassian #cassian x you #cassian acotar #cassian fic #acotar fic #cassian fanfic

[starlingflight]

Priorities

A/N: I swear I'm going back to SEL now, but I sat down at my keyboard and this just came out of nowhere. Please accept this fluff filled HBP missing moment in penance for my procrastination:

Read on AO3

“Dean!” 

Harry's stomach dropped at the sound of Dean's name from a voice that was unmistakably Ginny's. He turned to find her hurrying towards them across the common room, her school bag hanging haphazardly from her shoulder, and her eyes bright despite the early hour. 

He wanted to keep walking. He'd thought he'd finally seen the last of her and Dean together since their break up a week ago, and he had no desire to witness more of it now, but Seamus stopped, and Harry had agreed to go to breakfast with both of them in place of Ron and Hermione, who were both busy with prefect duties. 

Reluctantly, Harry halted beside Seamus, trying to look at anything but the way the morning sunlight slanted through the common room's high windows and made Ginny's hair look like it was glowing where it framed her face. 

“I hoped I'd catch you before you left the common room,” she said. Harry tried not to listen, but it was impossible, it was like his ears were attuned to the exact, musical frequency of Ginny's voice. 

“Did you?” Dean asked sceptically. “We've not really spoken since we–” 

“Well, I've been busy with Quidditch, and OWL work,” Ginny said, and even without looking Harry knew she'd be waving a hand unconcernedly in front of her. “But I wanted to give you this back.” 

Beside Harry, Seamus sucked in a sharp breath. Harry’s neck moved without any permission from his brain, forcing him to look.

She was holding an article of claret coloured clothing out to Dean, one that Harry recognised immediately. Something integral inside him had taken great offence the first time he’d seen her wearing Dean's West Ham jumper; he'd not grown to appreciate it any more on any of the following, mercifully infrequent, occasions either. 

“You can keep it,” Dean said now, looking extremely caught off guard. “I didn’t expect you to give it back.” 

Ginny shook her head. “No, it's yours. I meant to give it you last week, but I've been–” 

“Busy,” Dean finished for her. “You said.” 

He took the jumper, clutching it awkwardly against his body. Harry looked away again. Seamus cleared his throat uncomfortably. 

“I'll just put this in the dorm,” Dean said. “No point carrying it around all day.” 

“I’ll come with you,” Seamus offered. Harry remained silent, his eyes fixed on a tapestry of a witch petting a unicorn hanging on the far wall. 

“Bye, Ginny.” 

“Bye, Dean.” 

Harry felt rather than saw Seamus move away from him. He heard the simultaneous footsteps of him and Dean making their way back to the dormitory. He didn't look away from the tapestry until he heard the door to the staircase open, when he did, it was to find Ginny looking at him apologetically.

“Did I just doom you to a solitary breakfast?” 

Harry shrugged, ignoring the flutter of butterflies rising in his stomach. “Not if you come with me?” 

Thankfully, Ginny grinned in response to this suggestion, meaning Harry was spared from dying of embarrassment that morning. 

“Come on then. I need to report back to Mum that you're eating properly.” 

“Why would I not be eating properly?” He followed her to the portrait hole. 

Ginny shrugged. “I don’t know, it's Mum, she thinks everyone's not eating properly.” 

The corridor outside Gryffindor Tower was deserted. Their footsteps echoed loudly as they made their way towards the staircase. 

“Sorry if that was really awkward,” Ginny said, throwing a glance over her shoulder, obviously checking for Dean, who did not appear to have come back down from the dormitory yet. “I've been carrying that bloody jumper around in my bag for days trying to find a time to give it back. I had to take the opportunity when it was presented to me.” 

“Honestly, I'm just glad it's gone,” Harry said, before his brain could engage his mouth. Ginny's eyebrows rose about as much as Harry's heart plummeted. “It's killed me to see you in West Ham colours,” he said quickly. 

Ginny frowned. “I didn't realise you were such a big football fan.” 

Well, he was going to have to pretend to be now. “I live with Muggles, don't I?”

“You've never mentioned a football team,” she pressed.

Harry could feel her eyes studying his face like a physical touch. His heart was hammering in his chest; his brain had conveniently chosen that moment to stop working; he couldn't name a single football team even with a wand to his head.

“I–” 

“Actually, I have a more important question!” Ginny announced, saving Harry from whatever stuttered nonsense had been about to come out of his mouth. “Do you even have a Quidditch team?” 

They were at the staircase now, Ginny was a few steps ahead of him, making their height difference even starker than usual as she looked up at him curiously. 

“Er, Gryffindor?” Harry tapped the Captain's badge pinned to his jumper. 

“No!” Ginny rolled her eyes in exasperation. She paused, waiting for Harry to catch up to her. “An actual team – a professional team?” 

“Oh, I guess–” 

“Don't say it!” Ginny said, ending Harry's sentence once more. Her eyes narrowed. “If you tell me Ron's converted you to the Cannons, I'm going to disown you.” 

“Disown me?” he repeated, his smile growing in response to the one gracing Ginny's face. “I wasn't aware you owned me to begin with.” 

“Weren't you?” She looked away from him, taking the next flight of stairs two at a time. “Well, now you are.” 

“Unless I tell you I'm a Cannons supporter?” Harry increased his pace to keep up with her. “And then you're going to disown me?” 

“Exactly.” 

Was she blushing or was that just in Harry's head? 

“I'd better not risk it then.” 

She was definitely blushing. Or, more likely, he had started with waking delusions to match the near constant ones he had about her in his dreams. 

Ginny stopped on the step directly below him. She turned, placing her hand lightly on Harry's chest, halting both his descent, and the beat of his heart. 

“Let me tell you why you should be a Holyhead Harpies fan.” 

“Is this your sales pitch?” It was a wonder he could speak at all when his lungs had stopped working. 

She nodded. She was so close, her head tilted up to look at him, and her hand on his chest spreading warmth throughout his entire body. It would be so easy to lean down and–

Ginny took a step backwards, letting her arm fall away from Harry as she continued down the stairs. Her eyes, however, never left his. 

“One.” She lifted a finger in the air beside her. “Choosing the only all-female team in the league will make you appear sensitive, and extremely attractive, to most girls.” 

“You want me to make a decision as important as this based on what girls might think?” 

Somehow, he managed to keep to himself that he was on the verge of doing just that, based on what one particular girl might think. 

Ginny shrugged. “It's a sales pitch, I'm trying to appeal to your top priorities.” 

“Well, the opinions of unknown girls isn't one of them.” 

“Good to know.” 

“Is it?” He hadn't meant for his voice to drop so low, but he definitely liked the way Ginny's smile grew in response. 

“Yes, it helps me figure out my angle.” She raised a second finger in the air. “Two: their colours are green and gold, which my mother would assure you are your colours too.” 

Harry laughed; the sound bounced off the ancient walls surrounding them. “So, upon hearing I'm not making this choice based on the opinion of girls I might, hypothetically, want to impress, your next thought was your mum?” 

“No!” Ginny protested through a laugh of her own. “My next thought was that you look good in green!”

Harry's laughter died as his breath was stolen from him once again. 

“Three,” Ginny said quickly, raising a third finger into the air. “This one is the most important.” 

“Go on,” he managed to say. 

They were almost at the marble staircase now. Ginny halted their progress by leaning against the balustrade that overlooked the entrance hall. Harry lingered beside her, finding nothing to complain about in spending longer in her company. 

“In a few years, when they sign me – which is definitely going to happen – you don't want the inner turmoil of choosing between your loyalty to another team and me.” 

“There would be no inner turmoil,” Harry said, acutely aware that he should shut up, but finding himself completely incapable of doing so when Ginny was looking at him like she currently was. “I would obviously choose you.” 

Her smile was almost too brilliant to look at, yet Harry couldn't look away. “Oh, so you'd say I'm quite high on your priority list?” 

He didn't know if she took a step closer, or he did, all he knew was that the gap between them had decreased significantly, and that his heart was threatening to beat out of his chest. 

“Fairly high, yeah.” 

Ginny's eyes bored into his; Harry was transfixed. He waited, barely breathing, to see what her response would be. The corner of her mouth twitched– 

“There you are!” Ron's voice crashed into him with the force of a lightning bolt. 

Harry jumped back from Ginny, whipping his head around to see Ron and Hermione approaching, Ron grinning broadly, and Hermione looking almost as pained as Harry currently felt. 

“Have you eaten?” Ron asked. 

Harry glanced at Ginny to find her glaring at Ron. “We were just on our way to breakfast.” 

“Excellent,” Ron said obliviously. “We're done with rounds.” 

He continued walking, without stopping, in the direction of the marble staircase, apparently secure in the knowledge that Harry and Ginny would join him and Hermione. A fair assumption, Harry reminded himself, pushing off the balustrade. 

“I'm going to tell him,” Ginny said, quietly enough for only Harry to hear as she fell into step beside him. Harry's stomach sank, his brain leaping into overdrive, imagining Ginny informing Ron that he'd just spent the whole walk from the common room treacherously flirting with his sister. “...that you've betrayed the Cannons in favour of the Harpies.” 

“I don't think I actually agreed to that yet.” He hoped his shaking voice was only detectable to him. 

If Ginny noticed, she didn't show it. She was smiling again, her eye catching his. “You as good as did,” she said as they crossed the entrance hall. “But don't worry, it can be our secret for now.” 

#hinny #harry x ginny #hbp missing moment

[mandalhoerian]

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

[irkimatsu]

So I've got a request that may be odd but interesting. Reader/Husk where things start off with Husk being an Overlord and Reader a lowly sinner down on their luck, but after a long period of separation (things going sour, Alastor's doing, or whatever sounds best to you) they reunite and rekindle their relationship when Husk has lost everything and is working at the hotel, and Reader has risen the ranks to become an Overlord themselves. GN Reader is fine, thanks for your time!

Oh god help me I made this one angsty. I hope this is along the lines of what you wanted!

3.2k words (help), angst with a happy ending, SFW besides the usual swearing you expect from Hazbin fics. Reader finds Husk again after a decade apart, a tearful reunion is had, oh god help me

---

You stand in the middle of a grand ballroom, with a live band playing acoustic music and food and drink as far as the eye can see. Dozens of demons fill the hall, the most influential Sinners in the Pride Ring joined by their associates and servants.

It’s not the first time you’ve been to one of these gatherings, but it’s your first time here while on the other end of the leash.

You have to admit, it’s somewhat lonely here at the top. You’re not completely alone; like everyone else here, you’ve brought along your favorite contracted soul, who has just brought you a glass of champagne and earned a pat on his head for his troubles. But as you sip your drink, you can’t help but remember something with a smile.

He’d spit this out and ask where the scotch was…

It’s so strange not having his strong arm pinning you to his side. You can still see the charming expression on his face as he speaks with another Overlord, even as his tail waves as a warning to everyone who speaks to him. You know what that tail is saying without him needing to open his mouth.

“I’ll respect you if you respect me, but if you even think about trying anything with my pet, you’re dead.”

A lot of servants here are openly fearful or disdainful of their owners, but Overlord Husk never made you feel anything less than cared for. Sure, he had needs from you, but you enjoyed fulfilling those needs, especially knowing that he’d back down if you asked. He was cocky, spoiled, and reckless, but he adored you and always made sure to show it, both to you and to anyone who dared suspect that you were only a trophy he’d happily gamble away.

Then one day, he was just… gone. You woke up in his bed in the mansion like so many other mornings, and immediately you noticed that you couldn’t feel the faint bindings of his leash around your neck. You searched the mansion for him, but instead, you found Alastor reclining in Husk’s favorite lounge chair, sipping rye from one of Husk’s own glasses.

“Husker is no longer in need of your services, my dear. You’d best be on your way.”

He wouldn’t explain things any further than that, and you never heard from Husk again. What happened to him? Why would he just leave you like that, after years of calling you his most precious treasure…?

You need to shake those thoughts from your head before you have a breakdown in the middle of the party, so you join a nearby group of Overlords you can’t identify by name, intending to nod along and pretend to participate in their conversation. They appear to be discussing that rehabilitation hotel that Lucifer’s daughter started up. You continue sipping your drink and listening, hoping they don’t notice your silence.

“I still think it’s a foolish idea…”

“They did a wonderful job fighting off those exorcists, though. Imagine, we may never have to worry about another extermination thanks to that hotel!”

“Did you see any of the battle?”

“Oh, heavens, no, I never dare leave my shelter during an extermination, and I certainly don’t want to watch such a thing on TV!”

“Well, I caught some of it on the news, and would you believe, I could have sworn I saw the Gambling Demon fighting with the rest of Charlie’s crew!”

You try your damnedest to hide your shock at that news. At the very least, you manage to avoid dropping your glass.

“The Gambling Demon! Staying at Charlie’s hotel?! Surely you’re mistaken! And here I thought Alastor had him killed!”

“Oh, he looks different to be sure. He’s gotten a lot thinner, a lot scruffier. But how many tuxedo cats with giant wings do we have flying around in Hell? It had to have been him!”

“What do you suppose he’s doing in that place? Surely that old drunk doesn’t think Heaven would ever take him?”

“What kind of people does Heaven take, anyway…?”

As the discussion drifts away from the Gambling Demon, your attention drifts away from the discussion.

You’ll need to drop by that hotel sometime soon.

—

It takes you a few days to get away for long enough to stop by the hotel. Who knew Overlord business could be so exhausting? No wonder Husk needed your help with stress relief so often. But finally, after days of wondering, you find yourself standing outside the doors of the recently rebuilt Hazbin Hotel.

Surely it was all rumors, a cruel game of telephone meant to get your hopes up before harshly striking them down. You wouldn’t find him here. Not here, of all places. As far as you know, he’s dead.

But still, you have to know…

With a deep breath, you steel your nerves and push the door open. You’ve barely stepped into the lobby when a cheerful voice starts calling out to you.

“Oh! Hey there!” A group of demons are sitting in a circle of chairs, and all of them are now staring at you. Most of them are strangers, but you do recognize the one who’s enthusiastically waving at you as Princess Charlie herself.

You also recognize the winged cat who is currently staring at you with wide eyes and mouthing something inaudible. He’s much thinner, unhealthily so, and he doesn’t appear to be taking nearly as much care of his fur as he used to… but it can’t be anyone else, can it?

“You’re just in time!” Charlie says as she launches out of her seat and runs up to you. “We were just starting today’s trust exercise! Would you like to join us? It’s a perfect way to see what the Hazbin Hotel is all about!”

She’s speaking so quickly you can barely follow her.

“Oh, right, introductions! My name’s Charlie! What’s your name?”

You tell her your name, and she squeals with glee as she takes your hand. “Come on, come sit with us! Let me introduce you to everyone! This is Angel Dust, and Niffty, and Husk…”

You don’t remember any of the names she says after Husk’s. It really is him. The instant you lock eyes with him, you can’t look away. He’s frozen stiff, only the slight twitches of his tail showing that he hasn’t turned to stone.

“...and we have plenty of open rooms! What size bed do you like? Do you smoke? I know it’s hard to quit, and we’ll help you with that, but before then I can make sure you get a room with a balcony-”

“Charlie!” A girl with long white hair laughs and grabs Charlie’s hand to pull her back down into her seat. “Calm down! I think you’re freaking them out!”

“Sorry, Vaggie, sorry!” Charlie says. “It’s just always so exciting to see a new guest!”

“I don’t think it’s Charlie’s fault,” says the pink spider sitting on Charlie’s other side. “Seems like they just got distracted by our bartender. You like him, don’tcha? I know he’s cute, but don’t try pettin’ him, he bites.”

Husk must be stunned if he’s not reacting to a joke about his cat form. You’ve seen him punch other Overlords for that.

A bartender, though… that part doesn’t surprise you at all. But why here?

“Did you want to get a room set up first?” Charlie asks you. “I can help you pick one out, then we can come do the trust exercise! Oh, I can’t wait to get to know you!”

“I’ll take care of ‘em,” Husk says as he rises to his feet with a grunt.

“Oh, don’t worry about it, Husk! I can-”

“I’m the concierge here, ain’t I? Takin’ people to their room is part of my job.”

“Normally you complain when we ask you to check people in,” Vaggie says.

Husk shrugs at Vaggie’s observation as he heads toward the hotel’s bar. He grabs a box from beneath the bar and shakes it. “So, what size bed? You want a balcony?”

“Um… king?” you say, not sure if it’s an option. “Balcony is fine.”

“Mmm…” he stirs the contents of the box around with his claws for a moment, then takes out a key card and reads it. “Right, here’s one. Fifth floor.” He puts the box back where he found it, then pulls out a book and a pencil. He flips through the book for a specific page, then scribbles something inside it. 

He writes your full name perfectly, despite you not saying it directly to him.

Once that’s taken care of, the book also returns to where it came from. “C’mon.” He heads to the stairwell, and you follow.

What should you say to him? Should you say anything? Should you give him the first word? He doesn’t appear to be taking it as the two of you silently climb the stairs.

You reach the fifth floor, and your hotel room, without either of you saying a thing. “This is it.” He swipes the card and opens the door for you. “Look good?”

It’s a fully decorated room, with potted plants and wall art and a comfortable looking bed. It’s not entirely to your taste, but you can tell whoever designed it took great care with it.

“Don’t mind the art, you can replace that if you want. You might be staying for a while, so make it yours.”

“All right… thank you.”

Over a decade, and that’s all you can say to him?

You expect him to leave you to get settled in, but he keeps standing there, propping the door open. “Hey, uh… do I… know you, from somewhere?”

Your heart gives a single, heavy thud. “I think so… if you’re who I think you are.”

“Can I come in?” he asks. “Talk to you for a minute?”

“What about Charlie?” you ask.

“She’s patient,” is all he says before walking into the room. You follow him in and shut the door behind you. He’s standing in the middle of the room now, not looking at you. He seems to be at a loss of what to do with himself.

“...it’s really you,” he finally says, still facing away. “Before you said your name to Charlie, I thought… it couldn’t be…”

“Husk…” is all you can say. How long has it been since you’ve said that name? It feels so wonderful rolling off your tongue. At the sound of his name, he finally turns around to face you.

“...I missed hearing that…”

Your head is in conflict over what you should do now. Hug him and promise not to lose him again? Slap him and ask where the hell he’s been all this time? Break down crying, overwhelmed with thoughts of how you just spent the last ten years assuming he was dead?

“What happened…?” is all you can manage to say, without moving an inch.

His ears tilt down and he grumbles to himself as he grips his arms. “I didn’t want… didn’t mean… I’m sorry. He wouldn’t… I couldn’t…” he takes a deep breath. “...a lot’s happened since the last time I saw you.”

“Can you tell me about any of it?” you ask.

“Can we sit?” he asks in return. You nod in agreement, and the two of you sit on the edge of the hotel bed.

“How much do you know already?” Husk asks.

“Not much,” you say. “I went to sleep by your side one night, and then I never saw you again. That’s all.”

“Do you remember what I told you that night?” he continues.

“That you had a big meeting the next morning, but that I shouldn’t worry about it and you’d be home soon…” The gears start turning in your head. “What happened at that meeting…?”

“I lost,” Husk says. “I lost everything to Alastor. The money, the casinos, the mansion, the staff… even my own soul. A few bad hands, and that was it.” 

You once again remember seeing Alastor that day, and your hand goes up to your throat. “Did you lose me to…?”

“I didn’t lose you to anyone!” Husk insists. “I promised I’d never bet your soul, didn’t I? I didn’t bet it then, either. He didn’t want me keeping you, said a pet didn’t need a pet of his own… but there was no fucking way I was letting him have you. Letting you go before he took everything from me was the best thing I could do for you.”

“And you couldn’t tell me?” Tears are welling in your eyes. Are you relieved? Angry? Where has he been?

“He wouldn’t let me!” Husk says, defensive. “Wouldn’t even let me near any of the property I used to own! I couldn’t tell anyone from those days what happened! He wanted everyone to think he’d killed me!” He needs a few breaths to calm himself down. You barely recognize your old Overlord in his current face; he looks so lost and tired. “Believe me, I didn’t just give up. I looked for you when I could, but I didn’t know where to begin, especially when I couldn’t even get into my own casinos anymore. If I had any idea where you were, I swear I would have found you…”

If he still doesn’t know where you’ve been, then clearly he forgot to check somewhere vital. “Have you been keeping an eye on the Overlords recently?”

“Like I want anything to do with that fucking group ever again,” he spits out. “I still hate how I lost everything, but I know it’s for the best that I got out of there with some dignity intact… wait.” He sits up and stares at you. “Is that where you’ve been?”

You smile and nod. He chuckles in response and leans back on his hands.

“Heh… should’ve known you’d find another Overlord to take care of you. I just hope they’re good to you… I may not be as powerful as I once was, but I’ll still kill anyone who tries messing with you. I ain’t breaking my promises to you, not even now.”

“Husk…” you say with a shake of your head. “I’m not on anyone’s leash anymore. Not since I lost you.”

“Eh?” He raises a large, red eyebrow. “Then what are you doing, hanging around with Overlords?”

“Well… I am one now,” you said. “After you left, I had to fend for myself. I started a business, made connections with the people you used to know, and now… here I am.”

“No shit… you as an Overlord,” he says. “Not surprised you managed to climb that high, if that’s what you wanted. I just hope you’re playing fair. Not like some of the other scumbags with that title.”

You can’t help but wonder if he’s including himself in “scumbags”.

“Of course I play fair,” you say. “I learned a lot from you. It’s ruthless work, but it doesn’t mean I have to mistreat people for it.”

“Good to hear,” he says. “Good to know some people down here don’t let power completely fuck ‘em up. What kinda souls you own?”

“I try to make fair deals,” you say. “Hiring people to work in factories, using contracts to protect company secrets, that sort of thing. I think my people are happy where they are. I try to make it less awful than it could be, at least.”

“Got any pets?” Husk continues.

“Pets…? Oh.” It takes a moment for you to catch his meaning. “No, no! I’m not interested in that sort of thing. Everyone just works for the company. No personal relationships.”

“Huh… shame. Having a pet is a lot of fun. Getting to spoil ‘em, seeing ‘em smile when you’re around… pissing off other Overlords who don’t understand why their souls hate them so damn much, but your pet can’t keep their paws off of you…” He sighs and closes his eyes. “It was nice, having you by my side. I regret a lot of shit from back then… but I don’t regret having you. …at least, as long as you don’t regret it. Was I good to you back then…?”

“You were amazing,” you assure him as you lean against him. “Amazing enough that… that I can’t see myself with a pet of my own. I don’t belong on that side of the leash… and I don’t belong on anyone else’s leash, either.”

“...you know I’m washed up,” he says. “I ain’t got shit left. No money, no influence, just a damn chain around my neck forcing’ me to do the bidding of a sadistic freak who thinks I’m an animal.”

“Husk…” You can’t help but hug him tight as you hear just what he’s been going through in your time apart.

“I can’t spoil you anymore. I can’t take you to parties, I can’t buy you expensive gifts… that shit’s over now. You’re staring at… well, you’re staring at a withered old husk.”

“Can you still sing to me?” you ask. “And dance with me? Perform tricks for me?”

“I… maybe?” he says. “I’m out of practice. Haven’t had a reason to do any of that for years.”

“But could you?” you repeat.

“I mean… I’d like to… I’ve missed it.” He smiles again, his eyes staring off into the distance. “I still remember how you’d smile when I sang your favorite love songs…”

“I always loved your voice,” you say. “I still remember what you sound like when you sing. I think about it sometimes…”

“Yeah?” he says. “...I think about it too. You smiling as I’d sing to you, and… and hold you…” You’ve been waiting ever since you leaned in, but finally, his arms are wrapped around you. “And tell you that… no matter how much I lost… I’d never lose you…”

You never saw Overlord Husk cry before. Such a prideful man surely couldn’t cry. But as he rests his chin atop your head, you can hear his breathing start to hitch.

“I’m sorry…”

“It wasn’t your fault,” you assure him as you nuzzle his neck, just the way he loved all those years ago. A purr assures you that it hasn’t changed.

“If I knew that day… that when I left, I wouldn’t be coming back… I would have stayed in just a little longer.” He rests his claw on your chin and tilts it up to look in your eyes. Now you can clearly see the tears pricking the corners of his own. “Would have at least kissed you goodbye…”

“You did kiss me goodbye,” you say. “That night, before we went to sleep, the last thing you did was kiss me…”

“...and I promised I’d be back,” he finishes. “I kissed you goodbye for a day. Not a decade.” His claws run down your face, just as gentle as ever. “Could I… do that now?”

“Don’t kiss me goodbye,” you say. “Just kiss me.”

He grants your wish, lightly placing his lips against yours. He finally lets his tears fall, but the way they stain your cheeks doesn’t make you pull away. If anything, they’re just another reminder for you that he’s here, along with his warmth in your arms and the sound of his soft moans vibrating against your lips as he keeps kissing you.

“Charlie…” you murmur. “Charlie’s waiting for us-”

“She’s patient,” he repeats as he pushes you down to the bed. “I’m sure she’ll understand me wanting some quiet time with an old friend.” He offers no further argument before resuming his kisses, and you have no further reason to protest.

“I love you, Husk,” you manage to whisper between kisses.

“I love you too, doll. Always have.”

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel husk #hazbin husk #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel husk x reader #hazbin husk x reader #irk blubbers about nothing #irk got asked a thing #irk talks to strangers #irk huskposts