The Dance of Dragons was a tradgy in name and in blood, a viscious civil war that tore apart the relm and decimated the dragon species , removing the targaryens of their godly weapons.
But before the war reaches its climax the realm of westeros is barely held together by King Viserys, the man who anointed his only only daughter, Rhaenyra Targaryen, the heir to the iron throne.
The year 115AC, The princess, The realms delight birthed her second child, the only living daughter Rhaenyra would ever be blessed with.
Elaraeya Targaryen in blood but she was a Velaryon in name and law.
Raeya for short, this young girl and eventual woman, will naviagate the courts and evebtually the civil war that will tear her own family apart.
Amidigst all the fighting shed cling to her eldest brother, the bond would be forged through fire and blood, much as their family motto.
Unconventional Targaryen marriages were, meant to keep their bloodlines pure but this was not a matter a of tradition or duty.
It was love.
Love without fear.
| Cast |
Anya Taylor-Joy as Elaraeya 'Raeya' Velaryon (aged up)
The Only Daughter
"Skoriot Daor Brother, that is how we'll stand."
Emma D'arcy as Rhaenyra Targaryen
The Mother
"I entrust our future to you Elaraeya."
Ryan Corr as Ser Harwin Strong "Breakbones"
The Gentle Guardian
"Shes much like her mother in that regard."
Theo Nate as Ser Laenor Velaryon
The Name By Law
"I wish I could've been a better father to you."
Matt Smith as Daemon Targaryen
The Rogue Prince
"That mind of yours is a weapon of its own, use it."
Jacaerys 'Jace' Velaryon (Young) Leo Hart
The Eldest Son
"You're my sister, I have to protect you."
Harry Collet as Jacaerys 'Jace' Veleryon (Aged Up)
"If anything had happened to you, I would've flown out to meet Vhagar, no matter the consequences."
Harvey Sadler as Lucerys Velaryon (Young)
The finder of trouble
"You always make eyes at him."
Elliot Grihault as Lucerys Velaryon (Aged up)
The Sweet Brother
"Well... you were quite frightening."
Ty Tennant as Aegon II Targaryen (Young)
The Greens Heir
"Much rather have my bastard of a niece than her."
Tom Glynn-Carney as Aegon II Targaryen (Aged up)
The Usurper
"I'm sorry for the dissapointment you're to face in future dear niece, though I hope you'll think of me should you need find satisfaction elsewhere."
Having worked together for years, you and Jungkook know exactly how to play your roles, going undercover as a married couple. But that’s until the act stops feeling like one.
PAIRING: detective!jk x detective!reader
GENRE: smut with a lot of plot
WORD COUNT: 8k
WARNINGS: some undercover crime solving, sexy&intelligent gone wrong, idrk what’s going on tbh, jk’s secretly a yearner, alcohol, elites being illegal like always, brief mentions of money laundering, gambling&blackmailing, they’re at an underground club, smut wise: exhibitionism (it just…keeps happening), dirty talk, oral (f recieving), hair pulling, he bends her over ofc, some more probably
NOTES: surprise! 2.0’s mv randomly inspired me to write this and it was supposed to be posted by friday but uh mark happened. this turned out to have so much more plot than i planned but it kinda just flowed that way. also lmk if you’d like a part 2!! enjoy <3
· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·
Rain settles over London as if it’s seeking ownership.
Because in theory, rain does own the city of London, in its own, inscrutable way. It clings onto everything. From the glass windows of the club that are covered in a way that screams guilty, the stone railing that’s a little too romantic for a place like this, to your collarbones that stay exposed through the thick fabric of your coat— everything is decorated with small droplets of rain, creating a measured disorder that’s still stubborn enough not to leave no matter how hard you try to shake it off.
By the time the car pulls to a stop, it paints a black, sleek shadow beneath the streetlights. The street already looks polished; like it’s somewhere you don’t find yourself in unless it’s absolutely intentional, unless you’re assigned to be here, unless you have a purpose.
You watch it through the window for a little more than necessary, because every detail matters. You take notes of the grand spacing between the arrivals, the lack of hesitation at the entrance, the high chins and dark eyes of the men and women that are too powerful to face any consequences; every single one of these people belong here.
The driver opens the door of the backseat before you have time to even reach for the handle, blinking twice before stepping out to force confidence into your body. You move with ease, like you’ve practiced this a hundred times before, because you have. Because every ounce of authority in you is backed with years of practice.
Jungkook follows you a breath later, taking two large steps to claim his place right next to you, offering out an arm for you to hold onto. As he adjusts the black coat on his body, you slip your hand into the crook of his arm, fingers wrapping around his bicep.
The rain immediately catches in your hair, then the fabric on your shoulders, and then the exposed line of your collarbones. Jungkook opens the umbrella in his free hand before your blowout has time to budge out of place, holding it over your head without asking.
“Don’t scan too hard.” Jungkook says slowly, voice low enough to disappear beneath the crowd.
“Don’t teach me my job.” You mutter under your breath, eyes focused on the street instead of him.
Jungkook huffs out something between a breath and a laugh. “I’m not.” He says, adjusting the umbrella slightly, angling it so that it shields you more than himself. “I’m reminding you of it.”
You roll your eyes. “Don’t forget what role you’re playing.”
He scoffs, but the corners of his mouth tilt despite himself. His posture shifts subtly, just enough to close the little space left between your bodies, like he’d been waiting for the cue.
“Please.” He huffs out, arm slipping out of yours to find your waist. His hand settles exactly where your waist curves inwards, wrapping around like it’s muscle memory. You straighten your posture at his touch, your shoulder brushing against his chest with each step you take.
Right ahead of you, the gravity around the entrance is so heavy it’s already pulling you in, before you can even acknowledge the warm coloured light painting the corners of the front door.
Jungkook leans into you, mouth grazing over your ear lightly, yet enough to let chills trail down your spine. “Camera over the left column.” He murmurs without looking, eyes flicking above the door so quickly even you almost don’t catch it. “Wide angle.” He continues.
“Mhm.’ You hum in response, a sweet yet calculated smile playing on your lips despite yourself. You place your right hand on top of his, intertwining your fingers where they sit on your waist. You pull him just a little closer to adjust your pace, slowing him down enough to fall in line with the queue of people ahead.
Up close, everything feels even more premeditated. The lighting frames the edges around the doorway instead of spilling naturally, catching in the marble in a golden hue. Two men are standing at the entrance, eyes scanning through until there isn’t an inch that’s not tainted by their gaze. They’re both in sleek black suits, dressed exactly the same as the white button-up underneath their jackets pick up the light in a way that’s too bright for a night like this.
“Good evening.” One of the men says when the two of you approach further. You don’t slow down, reaching the threshold arm in arm.
“Names?” He asks, eyes flicking between you and the list in his hand.
Jungkook doesn’t hesitate before speaking, filling in the silence half a second later. “Charles and Clara Beaumont.”
The man’s eyes linger on you for a second longer this time, scanning through the list as he matches and confirms whatever he has to.
“Of course.” He says after a beat, moving to the side just enough to offer you space to step inside. Jungkook’s hand finds the small of your back, settling in a way that grounds you, sending warmth through your body, even over the fabric of your coat.
You don’t react outwardly, not in a way that lets him know, but you do feel his touch. The inch of contact, every degree of pressure, the way it anchors you just enough to look real— feel real.
“Stay close.” He murmurs, and the door opens.
You think you’ve never entered a place more unwelcoming than whatever this is.
“Let’s not waste time.” Director Kang had said, leaning onto the table that’s placed in the middle of the meeting room as he pressed a few buttons on the control in his hand until the screen flickered to life.
A face appeared; a man with a controlled smile, a sharp navy suit, and the kind of confidence that’s effortless without needing any practice, because it had been perfected years ago.
Hugo Vane.
You already knew the name, Jungkook already knew the name, but knowing from afar and seeing are different things.
“Publicly,” Kang started, the pacing of his words measured yet nowhere near slow. “One of the most successful private investors across Europe. Real estate, insurance, hospitality. He’s in it all, has been called ‘transformational’ way too many times.”
Jungkook let out a quiet breath through his nose, tongue poking the inside of his cheek. “Of course.”
“Over the last ten years, he’s built a network of high end venues across Europe– almost half in England– that function as fronts for illegal gambling, money laundering, controlled blackmail; all of it tied to names you would never expect” He breathed.
“What’s crucial is, everything is recorded. Debts, favors, leverage; we can get our hands on everything. This opening in London isn’t a random celebration, it’s a consolidation point. Real transactions will happen in the private rooms, so the main floor is useless. Your objective is simple, get inside one of those rooms, doesn’t matter which for now. We need confirmation of what happens in there. But most importantly, we need access, we need to track every breath they take.” Kang paused, exhaling through his nose.
“This man might have blood on his hands.”
After letting the words settle in the room, Jungkook tilted his head, swinging left and right in his chair. “And we’re just walking into that?” He asked.
Kang inhaled. “You’re not just walking into it.” He said, eyes flicking between the two of you before switching onto the next slide.
Two photos of a couple flashed across the screen, attractive and well dressed in the same old way people with generational wealth are.
“Charles and Clara Beaumont,” Kang explained. “Married for six years, currently in Nice, unlikely to make it.”
Jungkook’s mouth curved into a lazy grin. “So we’re them.”
“You are.”
“Six years?” You added a beat later, head tilting slightly.
Jungkook leaned back in his chair, arm resting along the backrest. “Won’t take much time to look convincing.” He said, a small smirk on his face as his gaze flicked over to you.
“Gotta play your part well, Jeon.” You said, tone disinterested as your eyes still focused on the picture on the screen like it would tell you something if you stared hard enough.
A small smirk played out on his lips, cocky in a way that grew you eager to slap it off his face. “Oh, I won't be playing.’
You rolled your eyes, huffing out a short scoff. You didn’t respond to him further as your grip tightened around your pen, squinting your eyes at the man on the screen. “Backgrounds? Anything we shouldn’t look past?” You asked.
Kang nodded slowly. “Everything will be provided by tomorrow morning, study them before you fly out.”
He stepped away from the table, standing right in the middle of the two of you, hands on both your shoulders like he’s warning you. “You will not draw attention, and you will not break cover. Find the confirmation we need and leave before anyone suspects anything. Play safe this time, we’ll see what comes next when you fly back.”
“What if we get access to the recordings?” Jungkook asked.
“Great, but don’t compromise the mission for it. Like I said, play safe for now.” Kang said, Jungkook nodded once in response.
You crossed your arms over your chest, biting the corner of your lips. “What about surveillance?”
“Everywhere. Which means whatever you do,” Kang answered until Jungkook cut him off, leaning forward, settling his elbows on the table. “We have to sell it.”
Kang lookwd at him. “Yes.”
“--Champagne?” The server asks, cutting through the memory with a sharp edge. You blink once, letting the room fold back into place with no more than a subtle shiver. So subtle that even Jungkook almost misses it despite being so close to you, to the point where you can feel each other’s pulses thudding under your skin.
Your body retakes everything all at once; the gold light, murmur of voices that let out no more than a few low chuckles, the weight of Jungkook’s hand still resting around your waist like it never left.
Something almost flutters in your chest.
You reach for the tray, taking a glass without any hesitation. “Thank you.”
Jungkook takes one a second later, body moving slower than yours. Because his attention is already completely elsewhere, eyes scanning through the crowd until they settle, digging silent holes into the nape of a certain someone’s neck.
“Right side.” Jungkook murmurs when the server disappears, eyes still stuck on the said man.
But you don’t turn around, now having years of experience in the job. Your hands reach for your purse, grabbing a hold of lipstick and a mirror. You drop the cap of the lipstick into your purse before opening the mirror with one hand, reapplying your lipstick as your eyes scan around the whole venue through the small mirror.
You take half a step to your left before he comes into your sight. Dark eyes, sharp jawline, navy suit tailored to fit his body without a single crease, exactly like Hugo Vane.
But younger.
“Hugo’s son.” You answer quietly, eyes on the mirror as you pat the lipstick lightly onto your lips. Jungkook’s eyes flick towards you for a beat, towards your lips. It lasts shorter than a second, maybe less than half a second, but it does happen. And you notice.
Jungkook hums, grip tightening on your waist. “Thought so.”
The man moves through the room without stopping, like he doesn’t need to, because it’s being cleared for him before he can have the time to complain. It’s not obvious, there is no dramatic space as he steps through, but there is a quiet shift in people’s demeanour. The way conversations pause just enough, the way bodies angle themselves just slightly, the way the room bends and molds around him and not the way around.
You try not to drown in the space he leaves behind, because it doesn’t settle, it knocks your breath out in a way you don’t know how to explain. You don’t get anxious often– no, you never get anxious. But something about the way he silently grabbed the room and bent it without anyone noticing causes something unsettling to form somewhere in your stomach.
How he moves is enough to tell you he’s not just wandering, he’s leading something. You don’t follow him immediately, letting the time stretch and the distance breathe. But Jungkook does still for a second, hand dropping from your waist until it wraps somewhere between your wrist and hand.
Your eyes briefly flick over to the hall he disappears behind, watching the way the door swings back and forth ever so subtly. Of course, Jungkook notices your stare, eyes following the direction of your gaze.
“That’s our way in.” He says, his hand holding yours properly now.
“That’s not a way in.” You mutter through your teeth. “That’s access we don’t have.”
He shifts his body slightly, adjusting you along with him so that you’re angled the opposite way. “That’s access we will have.”
He pulls you fully now, your face almost crashing into his back as he moves without a warning. Jungkook walks fast as you trail behind, taking steps that are short, yet as swift as the height of your heels allow.
When you’re halfway through the corridor, Jungkook pulls you closer into him. But it’s different to the closeness you’ve been maintaining so far. This time, you feel his cologne filling up your nostrils every time he shifts, the way his chest rises and falls whenever he breathes. This time, he pulls you so close that turning your head means something you don’t want to say out loud.
So you don’t.
“Someone’s watching.” He says into your ear, voice barely above a whisper.
“I know.” You reply, back pressed into his. Of course you know, because someone has been watching. Someone has been watching you for so long that the feeling of it transitions into a pattern, the kind you notice even when you try not to. Here, people don’t scan, neither do they hold your gaze; but they do reappear. You swear you see the same people all at the same places at the same times; like they’re circling around certain spots ith purpose rather than simply attending an opening.
“Good.” Jungkook says before turning you around, thumb pressing lightly against your wrist. Maybe it’s a cue, maybe it’s a warning, you have no idea which. Because there’s no time for you to figure it out, because Jungkook leans in when you expect it the least.
He’s so much closer than necessary, closer than professional, and the way your body reacts is just as– maybe even more– unprofessional.
His voice drops by an octave, words escaping his lips before they disappears somewhere on your skin. “Then let’s give them something to look at.”
He pulls your body closer into his by your hands, hooking them around his neck before he lets his hands drop down to your waist. You take notice of how slow they move, because they don’t really drop down, they slide.
It feels intentional, like he’s actually caressing your body with care instead of putting on a show. Your breath catches before you can stop yourself. And even though
you get it together quickly, Jungkook notices.
“Relax.” He says, forehead pressing against yours, his breath hot against your skin.
“I am relaxed, but you’re overdoing it.” You say, hands settling where he put them.
“No, you’re underdoing it.” Your jaw tightens at the words, and you almost roll your eyes. Almost, because right now, you definitely have way too much attention on you to slip even a little.
So despite your words, your hands move. They scratch the nape of his neck before disappearing in his hair, fingers curling lightly until they’re tangled inside.
“Your left,” You whisper against his mouth. “Same man, still watching.”
“Mhm.” He hums. “Let him.” But his eyes are already closed, body leaning even more into yours as if there is any space left. Your hands drop from his hair to his shoulders, and before you know it, Jungkook’s lips are on yours.
It takes you a second to shake yourself out of the shock, letting yourself melt into the kiss as his soft lips move on yours with ease, like they belong there, like this is normal for you to do. Your eyes flutter shut, hands roaming all around his shoulders. You flinch when he gives your ass a squeeze, sending a tingle through your legs.
One of his hands raises up until it reaches your face, cupping your cheek as his thumb trails softly along your jaw. He forces your mouth open with his thumb, pulling down your bottom lip slowly, and you grant him access without thinking.
A small moan escapes your lips when his tongue slides into your mouth, and Jungkook swears his pants are going to rip right on spot if you keep sounding like that. He feels something fluttering in his chest, something he knows he has been suppressing for a long time now. So he just pulls you closer, and lets his mind drift away from anything and everything for just second, focusing on you only.
Until someone clears their throat.
“Mr. and Mrs–”
Your whole body stills, unable to move even an inch. But that’s fine, because couples like this don’t break apart for interruptions. Jungkook lets his teeth pull onto your bottom lip for one last time before breaking apart, slow enough so that you can gather yourself.
He does pull away, but his hand doesn’t leave your waist. And for a split second, he doesn’t even turn his head.
“--Beaumont.” The staff continues.
Both of you shift your gazes towards him, acting completely calm and unbothered. “Yes?” Jungkook asks politely, brows raised only slightly.
The man gives you a measured smile. “Mr. Vane is a man of discretion.”
Touché
“If you would like somewhere more private,” He continues, gesturing subtly towards a door somewhere along the corridor. “We can accommodate you.”
There it is.
Though, you don’t answer immediately, letting the question rest for a second or two in order to make it feel real. Not eager, not hesitant, but rather like it’s something you’re used to.
Jungkook glances down at you, offering a look that’s not really asking, because he already knows the answer. Just something that’s checking, something that lets him know everything is fine. You tilt your head slightly, the corner of your mouth lifting just enough so that Jungkook notices, yet the man doesn’t.
He turns his head towards the man. “Of course.”
The man steps aside, letting the corridor fall open and twist into something darker. Jungkook’s hand shifts at your waist, guiding you through the hall. And this time, you just let yourself melt into the comfort of his presence. Because resistance doesn’t really mean anything anymore. Because you know that somewhere along your performance, something slipped. The control, the acting– whatever you call it. What’s important is that neither of you really acknowledged it.
The door closes behind you softly, a sound that’s too little for a door this heavy. It doesn’t really echo, doesn’t physically linger either. But still, for a second, you can’t find it in yourself to move. You don’t have to look at Jungkook to know he hasn’t either, you can feel it in the way the air shifts around him. His legs don’t carry him anywhere when the door clicks shut, eyes roaming around the room as the rest of his body stays still.
The room is quieter than you expect it to be. It’s not empty, not silent; there’s music humming faintly from somewhere behind, walls filtering out the bass until it nearly doesn’t even reach your ears. But somehow, you still feel it thudding under your ribs, hard and heavy until it stings somewhere you can’t quite reach.
But everything feels more uncomfortable than you imagined, because even in a room as private as this one, there is intention behind every little detail. The deep brown of the leather couch, the two untouched glasses on the table already filled with whiskey too bitter for your taste, the light that’s even dimmer, even warmer compared to the outside– everything is arranged like they expect you to sit, to drink, to stay.
To forget.
When you take a step forward, heels sinking into the carpet, Jungkook’s hand doesn’t leave your waist.
If anything, it settles deeper.
Jungkook shifts his weight from one leg to the other, his chest pressing closer into your back as he leans in slightly, just enough for his mouth to brush your ear. “Two cameras.” He whispers. “One above the mirror, one across the wall.”
You don’t look, because you never do, because you never have to when it’s Jungkook who warns you. Instead, your hand moves to your hair, tucking a strand behind your ear as your gaze drifts lazily across the room, a little relieved that you’re finally where you’re supposed to be, doing what you’re supposed to do.
Your fingers graze the edges of the mirror on the wall, mentally taking a note on how something is off about it, in a way you can’t exactly point a finger on. The frame feels too smooth on your skin, too flat for something that’s embroidered romantically.
Your reflection stares back at you the same way it always does. Hair perfect, posture straight, lipstick faintly smudged because of the kiss you just shared; it’s completely untouched.
But something is still off. The angle is wrong, your frame is slightly delayed, the glass is too clean that it’s suspicious. And finally, as your fingers keep grazing around the edges in hopes of finding something worth pocketing, something red winks at you.
“They’re recording.” You say, voice breathy, almost distracted.
His hand leaves your waist for the first time since you walked in, stepping aside to take everything in properly. His absence hits you immediately, skin turning cold beneath the fabric on your body without the warmth of his touch. You try to ignore the feeling, you really do, but it lingers somewhere between the light chill of the room, and your pulse that’s now a little loud. Too loud that you feel it thud in your ears.
But suddenly, something louder than the hard pulsing of rhythms fly in from behind. It doesn’t come from the hallway– no, it’s deeper than that. The voices are muffled, the words are whispered discreetly and are chosen with care; private enough to pull a tight knot in your stomach.
You still without realizing, eyes widening only slightly as your hands rub themselves onto the sides of your coat. Jungkook notices it immediately, eyes shifting onto you before he lets his hand find yours. His fingers slip between yours, gliding with ease as if this is the most natural thing for you to do. His hold grounds you. You have no idea how or why, but it does, and your grip tightens around his beneath awareness.
Jungkook had never been easy to read.
You’ve shared way too many long flights, way too many late night debriefs. Yes, he was a little too flirty sometimes. And yes, you were aware of his attraction towards you. But you never thought it was anything near serious. At the end of the day, you were just coworkers who, in reality, couldn’t even properly get along.
Despite his cocky and flirty persona, Jungkook isn't a careless man. He never lets something slip before weighing it over and over again, never lets something mean too much.
You always thought it meant nothing to him, that he was just acting a certain way to get on your nerves, that this was just the kind of person he is.
Oh boy were you wrong.
“Wall behind the couch.” You say, gesturing towards where the voices are coming from. Jungkook turns slightly, angling his body just enough to follow the line of your sight without making it obvious.
There’s a panel there, a seamless way that leans into another room, almost invisible even to you despite how carefully you’re looking for it. Somewhere between a breath and a flick of your eyes, Jungkook moves. His body works around yours swiftly, turning you before you can process it, pressing your back into the wall you had just been gesturing at.
Your breath catches, more from the sudden closure than anything else, your hands instinctively finding his chest as he closes the distance between you. The room, the air, even voices; everything feels smaller like this. Like it’s just the two of you and no one else who are existing in this space.
“What are you doing?” You ask under your breath, but it doesn’t land the way it usually does. Because he’s already closer than what’s professional, closer than what’s safe.
Jungkook lifts his index finger, placing it on top for your lips. “Shh.” He shushes you, brows raised slightly.
A voice filters in, dark and hoarse. “...this wasn’t part of what we shook hands on.”
Something shifts on the other side of the wall, distorted in a way that doesn’t allow you to hear everything properly. “We can make a few adjustments.” Another man answers, his tone noticeably calmer.
“Hugo’s son.” Jungkook whispers, his eyes staring right into yours.
You grab his hand, pushing it off your face with a huff. “What even is his name?” You ask, face scrunched in confusion at the sudden realization.
Jungkook shrugs, letting the voices of the two men fill in the room. “That’s not how your father cooperates.”
“My father isn’t here tonight.”
Your breath stills, wide eyes lifting up to catch Jungkook’s, filled with unease.
How the fuck is Hugo not here?
That throws everything off. Because Hugo Vane not being here doesn’t feel like an absence, it makes you feel his presence even more, settling under your bones with an ache you don’t like. Because if Hugo isn’t here, because if he didn’t even bother getting out of his way to come here, this isn’t just an opening that covers a few illegal exchanges. It’s something else entirely, something that has been in motion for a lot longer than you knew of.
And whatever you walked into tonight is bigger than the room you’re standing in.
The other man starts. “If anything goes wrong–”
“It won’t.” Hugo’s son cuts him off, voice steady like it’s forcing everything into exactly where he wants.. There’s a pause, a beat filled with silence before he continues. “Everything is already in place.”
The words sound like a trap.
When your eyes flick back to Jungkook, you realize he’s already looking at you, eyes a little too empty to your liking. He looks like he’s thinking about nothing and everything at the same time. So you lift your hand, shoving his chest lightly to recollect his attention.
“Jungkook, focus.” You murmur through your teeth.
But he doesn’t react immediately, not properly at least, because his hand is still holding yours, his arm is still around your waist. And instead of loosening his hold or giving you space to breathe, his grip tightens, fingers curling around you like he’s trying to ground the two of you at the same time.
Then, his hand moves. Not away, of course not. It shifts from your waist, sliding down to your hips. Though the movement is slow, like he’s giving himself time to stop, to pull back into whatever control he has been holding onto all night.
And you can’t find it in you to move.
“They’re watching.” He says quietly, thumb grazing circles on your hip.
There’s no fucking way he’s doing that as performance.
“I know.” You respond, eyes stuck on his like they’ll bleed into blindness if you tear them away. Your voice is softer now, breathy in a way that makes Jungkook lose his mind, not that he’d ever tell you.
But right now, you too know that something shifted, that this doesn’t feel like just a show anymore.
Jungkook exhales through his nose, slow and rough, closing his eyes along with the breath he lets out. “I’ve been trying not to do this.” He starts, taking a step closer as if it’s possible. “But you’re making it so fucking hard.”
For a second, you consider pretending to not understand what he means, almost tilting your head with oblivious eyes. But halfway, you decide against it, sharply inhaling the breath he just exhaled.
But the space between you is too little– no, it doesn’t even exist anymore. The room feels smaller, the air feels thicker, and the muffled voices of the two men disappear completely behind the wall when he lets his body lean a little more into yours.
At your lack of response, Jungkook lifts the hem of your coat, giving your ass a squeeze above the thin fabric of your dress. You moan involuntarily, head falling back until it hits the hard wall behind you, a little harsher than you would’ve guessed.
“Tell me to stop now.” He says, voice low in a way that’s barely above a whisper. “Because I won’t.”
You crash your lips into his.
Maybe it’s the adrenaline, maybe it’s the walls, or maybe the fact that you’re being watched and still choosing this anyway.
Or maybe, it’s just him.
You don’t know, you can’t even think straight right now. Because the second your lips meet his, everything else collapses into a haze, way too easily. You lose your last remaining hold on everything you’ve been trying to build since even before you stepped out of the car tonight. The mission, Hugo, his son, anything and everything that’s currently going on behind the wall, even the cameras you’re fully aware of– they all blur into something distant.
You’ll deal with those later.
A swift feeling of surprise takes over Jungkook when it’s you who breaks the tension first, but he melts into the kiss without giving you time to recalibrate your actions. Your hands settle on his shoulders, fiddling with the thick fabric of his coat before slipping it down his shoulders, letting it fall onto the floor. Once it’s off, your hands move quickly on his dress shirt, unbuttoning it eagerly.
Jungkook lets out a groan at your touch, because he feels what’s underneath it immediately. The way you stop hesitating and start pulling him instead, the way your hands grip his shirt like you mean it, like you’re not just letting this happen.
You’re choosing this.
That’s what knocks the air out of his lungs more than anything else tonight. Because just hours ago, he was ready for resistance, he was ready for control, he has been doing it for years. Acting like you’re nothing more than occasional partners who don’t even get along for
the most part. He was ready for you to push him away if he went too far with the role, if he played it a little too well. He was ready to stop if you wanted to.
But he wasn’t ready for this.
He wasn’t ready for you, for your lips to meet, rid of any ounce of hesitation, like you’ve been wanting this too.
He squeezes your ass again, with both hands this time, needing to feel every inch of your body. His eyes flutter uncontrollably when you let out another dreamy moan, something that sounds like an angelic melody to his ears. He pulls you closer by the hips, then thrusts his own to meet you halfway, biting his lip harshly at the contact.
“Please, Jungkook.” You cry out, thrusting your hips into his once again, by yourself this time, desperate for a touch, an ounce of friction– anything.
“Please what, baby?” Jungkook responds with a question, his hot breath hitting the exposed skin of your neck, trailing all the way down to your collarbones. “Use your words, I know you can.”
Your hands continue moving on his shoulder, sliding off his shirt once you’re done with the buttons. You find yourself needing to take a moment at the sight of his bare chest, because it’s better than any you’ve seen before. Soft, toned– maybe even a little too toned– so bare and so pretty, all for you to touch.
Your hands roam around his chest, tracing lines along his abs. Jungkook has to bite his cheek to suppress any unplanned sounds that he realizes are way more likely to slip than he thought now that he actually feels your touch on his body.
“Not gonna fucking beg for this.” You squeeze his shoulders, nails digging deeply into his bare skin, letting your back lean even more into the wall.
Fuck.
Jungkook has thought about this.
In quieter moments, in between meetings and conversations when you were standing a little too close, in places where he shouldn’t have; he’s thought about it all. The way your voice would drop by and octave when you were focused, the way your skirt would ride up your thigh when you leaned in just a little lower, the way your hand would brush his like it meant nothing.
It never meant nothing to him.
He’d always pushed it down. Because this was work, because you were his partner, because he knew you better than to ruin something that functioned this well.
But now, your hands are all over his body, moving and pulling him in instead of stopping. Your lips are so fucking soft against his, making his chest tighter and head emptier until there isn’t a single coherent thought left inside.
“Fucking tease.” Jungkook says before lifting your dress up, letting it pool around your waist. Your lips curl up in victory when he pulls your panties to the side, flicking the lips of your pussy with two fingers, feeling your slick coat his fingers.
He plays with your clit, rubbing circles with his thumb as his two other fingers slide in and out of your wet, aching hole. Your eyes immediately fall shut at the contact, inhaling sharply when he curls his fingers at an angle he knows will make you see stars.
Then he falls to his knees.
Your eyes flutter open the moment you hear the way his knees hit the hard floor, lips parting as you’re taken aback by whatever he’s doing. You look down to him, brows furrowed in
confusion in a way that asks. But Jungkook doesn’t respond, he only gives you a smirk after looking up, then flicks his gaze back down again.
His fingers wrap around the lace fabric of your black panties, pulling them down in a way that’s painfully slow considering the waterfall between your thighs right now. When the thin piece of fabric pools down on the floor, you lift your foot, kicking it to the side with your heels.
“Jungkook,” You gasp loudly when he lifts one of your legs, hooking it over his shoulder. He starts by trailing kisses up your thighs, one hand wrapped around the soft flesh in order to steady your body. Your hands fly onto his hair before you can think, fisting and pulling at it as he gets closer and closer to your core.
“Oh my god,” You moan, looking down at him as his tongue laps against your swollen pussy. His fingers flick your lips open, easing it up for him to work his tongue. Jungkook groans as you tug onto his hair harder, licking your pussy as if he’s savoring the taste of every flavour on his tongue.
Your thighs clam around his head, closing with a shake you have no idea how to control. Your nails dig into your own palms by how hard you’re holding onto him, stinging in a way that’s almost painful.
“Shit, ‘m so close.” You whimper as heat pools low in your stomach, twisting and curling so hard that you feel your legs giving out.
“Sweetest pussy ever.” Jungkook pulls away for a split second before connecting his mouth back onto your throbbing pussy, his tongue flattening right at the part where it pulses the heaviest.
“Jungkook, fuck.” You cum hard with a scream of his name, your head falling back onto the wall so fast it almost hurts. Jungkook licks you through your orgasm, his fingers that were once separating your lips now rubbing circles on your clit until you’re fully out of your high.
Your breath doesn’t settle when he stands again, coming back up to his feet so fast, as if being away from you for even a second feels unbearable. You hold onto his arms to regain
your balance, and no more than a second passes before Jungkook’s lips find yours again.
“Gonna bend you over and take you right fucking here.” Jungkook says, grunting as he pulls back. He turns you around, then pushes you over the backrest of the leather couch until your ass is perfectly aligned and in sight. Jungkook palms the soft flesh of your skin, gripping and squeezing as he tries unzipping his pants with his free hand.
His dick springs out once his boxer is down his thighs, slapping against his abs immediately. He gives his already hardened length a few strokes before lining it up your entrance, flicking your folds with his tip, all red and angry, eager to fuck you into oblivion until your eyes roll back so hard it hurts to not see his face through the darkness.
You whimper loudly when Jungkook enters you with a hard slam, back arching into the air instinctively. His hand settles on your waist, gripping firmly as the other doesn’t leave your waist. Your pussy feels so tight and warm around his cock, and Jungkook thinks he’s going to burst out.
“Can’t believe you’ve been hiding yourself from me for years.” Jungkook says, words coming out shaky due to how hard he’s pounding into you. “Played so hard to get when you’re really just a slut.”
“Shut the fuck up.” You spit back through grithed teeth, trying to suppress your moans by burying your head into the couch. Jungkook lets out a cocky chuckle that twists your nerves even more, but the annoyance is quickly swollen up by how good he’s pounding into you.
He reaches for your dress, pulling down the fabric on your chest until the swell of your boobs spill out through your bra. Jungkook pulls down your bra next, your tits coming full on display
with a bounce. He moans when his palms settle on your soft boobs, fingers flicking and pinching your nipples until your pussy aches even harder with the sensation.
“Right there, oh my god, right fucking there.” You choke out with the little energy you have left, feeling your orgasm closer than ever. Jungkook fists your hair when you least expect it, yanking you up so that your back arches further and his bare chest grazes over your body.
You moan out shaky curses, not even aware of what you’re saying anymore as he keeps pounding into you from behind. Tears prickle up at the corners of your eyes, Jungkook’s grip getting tighter and tighter in your hair as he nears his high.
“Shit,” Jungkook whimpers, dick twitching inside your walls. “Where do you want me?” He asks, voice so low and breathy that it sends you over the edge.
“Fuck, want it inside. Don’t you dare pull out.” You say, feeling your orgasm build as his thrusts transition into something messy and sloppy.
“Oh yeah?” He breathes, pushing your body back onto the couch, his grip on your waist tightening.
Jungkook cums hard with a loud groan, emptying all of himself into you. You push yourself back on his dick a few times before your orgasm also rips through, crying out at both how hard you’re cumming, and how good he’s filling you up.
There’s a beat where he doesn’t pull out, cock softening inside you as his forehead presses between your shoulderblades, his unsteady breath feeling hot on your skin. Your breath also doesn’t settle instantly, chest rising unevenly as the weight of him suddenly feels too heavy on your skin. Everything falls back into place one by one, your vision drifting back as you come down from your high. The warmth of the dim lights, the closed door that’s hiding way too much behind, the quiet hum of voices that are muffled together behind the walls– it all returns all at once, like you’re being forced back into reality after being somewhere else entirely.
Jungkook’s hand is still on your waist, grip still firm as if he hasn’t realized he has to let you go– or maybe he just doesn’t want to let you go.
When Jungkook slides out of you, you push yourself up slightly, your body still slower than your head. “Jungkook,” You start, voice rough.
You feel his body still above you, a shift that’s so subtle yet still enough for you to feel. The realization hits him the same moment it hits you, his hand loosening on your waist.
“Cameras.” You finish, voice soft and quiet despite the weight of your words.
That’s all it takes for Jungkook to blink back into reality, pulling back fast as if distance has the power to fix everything just like that. But surprise surprise, it won’t.
That’s when a sound cuts through the walls, something so faint that for a second, you think that even you might have missed it. But you don’t, because you never do. You flinch regardless, fingers tightening slightly where they rest against him.
Jungkook feels it instantly, head snapping towards the door before he flicks his gaze back to you, leaning down just a little. “What?” He murmurs in your ear, voice low in a way that’s barely above a whisper.
You don’t answer, you can’t bring yourself to answer, because nothing that’s going through your head sounds coherent as words. Your head turns slightly when another muffled voice comes through somewhere behind the right wall, tilting enough to catch the direction without making it obvious. Jungkook follows without looking, shifting and leaning closer by just half an inch, instinctively hovering his body above yours.
His chest rises and falls harder than his usual breathing, eyes flicking around the room, reevaluating everything you’ve terribly miscalculated. “Fuck.” He mutters under his breath.
“You’re overreacting.” Someone says, voice calm and controlled, so much that it makes your stomach twist.
“I’m not overreacting, they went into one of the rooms.” Another voice replies, but it’s sharper this time. Dressed in a worry that doesn’t even try to rival how composed the previous man was.
Jungkook’s hand tightens around the backrest of the couch, leaning his body weight onto his hands above you. Your breath gets caught in your throat, stomach dropping in a way that’s almost unprofessional.
“Which room?” The calmer man asks.
There’s a pause after that, maybe a flick over the keyboard, maybe a shift of screening, you don’t know which. But the soft clicking that’s somehow heard even from where you are is enough for you to freeze beneath the warmth of Jungkook’s body.
“Doesn’t matter, we’re flagging everything.”
Fuck.
Jungkook’s grip stills on you completely, his wide eyes staring wordlessly into the wall as yours are stuck on his chest. Unable to move, unable to speak.
“Do we know who they are?”
“Not yet.”
With that, you exhale slowly, letting out the breath that has been stuck in you ever since the first subtle shift behind the walls. You know this doesn’t give you much time, hell, it would probably be criminal to call whatever this is some time. But right now, you’ll take anything you can. Because everything feels so fucking unavoidable.
“Run it through the system.” The second voice requests. “Faces, behavior, track everything.”
“They won’t make it out without us knowing,” The first voice finishes. You hear the faint scraping of the chairs, footsteps that are closer and closer as time passes by, movement that’s too animatic to be real, it all hits your ear in a hue. Suddenly, the door clicks, and they’re gone just like that.
For a second, it feels like they’re still right behind the wall, their presence burning holes through your body without even catching sight of your eyes. Like they’re still listening, still watching, waiting.
But then, somewhere between the third and fourth breath you exhale, the sound starts fading and fading until they’re finally out of your reach.
But you don’t know if that’s a good thing or not, because it’s still not quiet enough. The constellation of Jungkook’s uneven breaths mixed with yours rip through the air until it feels unbearable to exist in the same space anymore.
Because now, your fingers curl tighter against Jungkook’s shirt for a different reason entirely. He pulls back just enough to look at you, eyes filled with something that indicates he understood everything at exactly the same time as you. And it’s nowhere near controlled.
“They flagged the room.” You whisper, wide eyes looking up at him in a way that causes Jungkook to curse at himself for thinking with his dick in a situation like this.
His jaw tightens. “Yeah.”
Your mind races, trying to recollect everything until they stick together again. “And the system-”
He cuts you off. “It’s already running.”
Your voice drops as you start blinking so fast it hurts. “Shit, Jungkook, what do we do? They fucking saw us.”
You hate how he doesn’t deny it, how he doesn’t even try to soften it. Because it’s there, everything already happened in a way that’s way too ugly to be repairable, way too real to be covered with a lie.
Jungkook calls your name, slow and calculated. “They’re looking for us.”
The way those words land is so much worse than whatever you had registered previously, leading your chest to tighten until it leaves no space for your breath to exist in your lungs. Everything you just did, everything you just heard– You’re not ahead anymore, you’re inside it, you’re caught right in the middle of everything you were told to stay away from.
You make a mental note of torturing yourself for the way your chest flutters when Jungkook’s hand finds yours, grip firm like he’s scared to let you go, like he’s scared something might happen to you.
“We need to move.” He says, eyes scanning around the room for anything that’s even the smallest thread. But when it comes to actually moving, neither of you really act on it.
Because you both know the mission isn’t the only thing at risk anymore.
OH THE RESCUE MISSION FIC TEASER GAVE ME BUTTERFLIES ALREADY READING IT IM SO EXCITED!!!!!
┆ - ۫ ׅ "if she dies, there's nothing in the world left for me anymore."
Being Leon's wife was hard, especially when you get kidnapped at night, while Leon has no idea until he returns to an empty home.
𝓛 EON SCOTT KENNEDY :: Your protective husband.
ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤnow playing - My Way Of Life by Frank Sinatra
ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ⇆ㅤ ㅤ◁ㅤ ❚❚ ㅤ▷ ㅤㅤ↻
⸝⸝ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤangst mixed with comfort fic :: 𝓛eon kennedy x fem!reader
╰┈➤ ｡ content & warning(s) : established relationship, angst mixed with comfort at the end, this takes place in RE9, rescue mission mixed with the plot of RE9, RE9 spoilers if you haven't seen or played the game, implied pregnancy, protective!leon, Leon immediately locks in, small age gap, Ed and Lorraine type of dynamic, no y/n, and just (your name), Leon doesn't play about his wife.
author's note: I literally didn't think it would be this long, but I kept my promise, anon teehee, I hope you like this! I enjoyed making this so much (ps, there MIGHT be grammar issues). ♡
summary / synopsis : You return home after a long day at work, expecting a normal night. You were getting ready for bed as you waited for your husband when the electricity went out, startling you. But before you could call your husband, you were kidnapped by a certain doctor. Leon comes home to find you gone, and he isn't happy at all.
Your protective husband, Leon, never liked the idea of leaving you home alone, especially someone with a past like his. He had a major fear of something happening to you; he didn't ever want to think about someone kidnapping you as bait, yet it appears his greatest fear was about to hit him and hard.
You were returning home after a long shift at your work, driving on the familiar road as you listened to old music on the radio, which filled the silence in the car. watching as cars drove past you, it was getting late. You were sure that Leon was still busy investigating that virus he didn't want to tell you about. You could only hope that your husband was okay, along with Sherry.
unaware of the danger lurking at your house or what was going to happen to you soon and fast, yet as you pulled into the driveway, you noticed something odd: the porchlight was on. You recalled that you left it off when you left for work, and Leon hasn't returned home. You made sure of this by looking for his familiar Porsche, yet nothing.
But then again, you have a bad memory sometimes, maybe you did leave it on? That should have been a major red flag, but you dismissed it as a bad memory, since you've done that a few times in the past. letting out a soft sigh as you parked on the familiar driveway, putting the car in park as you turned the headlights off.
Something in your gut told you to stay in the car, not get in the house, and just call Leon. Maybe you were just stressed out from work, tired that your own body was playing tricks on you again, but even as you turned off the engine, your gut feeling got even worse.
grabbing your purse from the passenger's seat as you dug through it for a moment, looking for your phone before you pulled it out, unlocking it quickly as you scrolled through your contacts, your finger hovering over your husband's number. He was busy with that investigation. You shouldn't bother him with your paranoid behaviour.
Yet even as you thought that, something just felt so off. Deciding to be on the careful side, you decided to send Leon a quick text, asking him if he had gotten home earlier than you and turned the porchlight on, yet even as you waited for your husband's response, something about the situation felt odd; he would've told you if he did.
As the minutes ticked by so slowly, he didn't reply. He was probably busy, deciding to brush it off as you were tired from work, grabbing your purse and keys as you opened the car door, getting out as you closed the door behind you, and making sure to lock the vehicle. As you walked to the porch, with each step, it felt heavier than the last.
You unlocked the front door, stepping inside as you made sure to check your surroundings first. You may be tired right now, but one thing you learnt from being Leon's wife was to always double-check everything, especially in moments like these. You closed the door behind you and locked it.
putting your purse down on the console table as you opened one of the drawers, digging through it for a moment or so until you finally found the hidden pistol, making sure it was loaded, and thankfully it was, kicking off your heels as you placed them to the side, you didn't bother to relax, deciding the check the whole house before you could even do anything along those lines.
You made sure all of the windows were locked and sealed shut, as well as the back door, turning the security system on. Once you made sure the house was locked tight, you finally relaxed, your muscles aching with some of your fingers cramping from typing all day, putting the pistol down on the kitchen counter.
You should probably get ready for bed; you definitely need to wash your face after having makeup on all day. letting out a tired sigh as you made your way to the bedroom, walking into the bathroom that was connected to the room, taking off your work clothes, and putting the clothes into a basket before finding something to sleep in.
Yet as you started to wash your face, barely turning on the sink, the electricity suddenly went out. startling you as you immediately turned off the tap water, that gut feeling from earlier? It got even worse, and this time, you believed it.
immediately rushing out of the bathroom and your bedroom, making your way towards the kitchen to get the pistol that you had left on the counter earlier, only to find that it was gone. Someone was inside your house. Like any rational person, you grabbed one of the knives from the kitchen drawer and walked towards the front entrance.
digging in your purse for your phone, and as soon as you found it, you unlocked it immediately, your fingers rushing to try to call your husband, but before your finger could press on the call button, that's when you heard a thud from behind you.
putting your phone in your front pocket so you wouldn't drop it and to also hide it, as you whipped around, only to find someone standing meters away from you. Before you could process it, his calloused hand wrapped around your neck, surprising you, but you quickly took the moment to stab whatever you could.
As everything had faded to black, you heard a groan from the stranger, followed by the dripping of something that you could only presume was blood. That's when your vision faded to black, your body going limp soon after.
Leon got home late. Later than he ever expected, but mostly since he was investigating alongside Sherry the mysterious string of deaths of the Raccoon City incident, driving the familiar road before he eventually arrived at the familiar house, seeing your car parked, he assumed that you were either waiting for him or sleeping since all of the lights were out.
driving into the driveway as he put the Porsche in park, turning the engine off with a click before he grabbed his belongings and got out of the car, closing the car door from behind him as he walked towards the porch, digging through his jacket's pockets for the keys, yet, as he placed his hand on the doorknob, he found that it was left unlocked.
Leon immediately became alerted, dropping the keys as they hit the ground with a clink! But he didn't care, grabbing the gun from his harness as he pushed the door open, immediately seeing the puddle of blood. It was like memories flashed through his mind, memories of you.
It immediately stirred ugly feelings in his stomach, something he didn't want to feel. that he never wanted to feel, rushing further into the familiar house as a string of curses was muttered under his breath, thinking of the worst as his heart ached.
But before Leon could search the whole house, making his way towards the kitchen, where he saw polaroids after polaroids littering the floor and counters. picking one of them up, noticing that you and he were in the picture, up close, in the kitchen. That was two weeks ago when you two had cooked together.
Leon immediately understood what happened, dropping the polariod to the ground as he crushed it under his boot, his gloved hand clenching, the leather making a sickening noise as he cursed under his breath. The timing just couldn't be perfect. It was clear that whoever had taken his wife was watching him and her for weeks.
planning this so exactly that it made Leon even angrier for not noticing the signs earlier, for not being there for you when you needed it so desperately. Leon had never felt this type of ugly feeling in such a long time; it made his heart ache. knowing that he's failed you as a husband.
But the person who had taken you forgot one little thing. You were his wife. And if you knew Leon, then you would know that he doesn't like what is his being taken away from him so blatantly. One thing about Leon is that he'll stop at nothing to get you back safely.
Leon didn't hesitate to look for you immediately, searching the entire house with urgency, trying to find some semblance of where you were at; he didn't relax. How could he? You could be getting hurt, and that thought alone scared him to death. The person who had taken you had been watching the two of you long enough to pull something like this off.
Yet, he didn't find anything, just polaroids of you two. Leon could feel his emotions welling up so terribly. enough for him to grab his phone from his pocket and immediately reach out to Sherry. The line rang for a couple of seconds before she eventually picked up, " Leon? Did you find anything about the victims? "
Leon paused, hearing Sherry's voice was able to calm down his storm of emotions, " No. Somebody took (your name).. " he replied curtly, letting out a sigh as he frowned, " ..I think there are more people involved in this, Sherry. " Leon took a glance around the messy house.
Sherry paused at Leon's words, her voice becoming worried instantly, " You should come back, I can try to track down her phone or something... this might be aligned with the case, someone took her deliberately. " Hearing her words, Leon slowly nodded even though she couldn't see him; the timing couldn't be perfect.
" I'll be heading that way then. " Leon lowly murmured, gripping his phone before he hung up, settling it back into his pocket. He couldn't even look at the polaroids that were surrounding the kitchen, immediately walking off to the front entryway. Every step felt heavier than the last.
His fingers were twitching ever so slightly before he eventually made it to the front door, slamming it open as he walked outside. The fresh air did nothing to comfort him as he slammed the door shut, locking it quickly before he rushed over to his Porsche. He didn't bother to wait around, turning on the engine quickly as the tires screeched, making an ugly noise, before he sped towards the remote building.
It took a few minutes at best to arrive at the building. He was speeding over there anyway; he was sure he ran a few stop signs and went over the speed limit, but he didn't care, not when you were gone. He couldn't care about the meaningless things. Leon took a deep breath to calm himself down, knowing well that if he got too emotional, this could go badly for him.
Taking a look down at his gloved hand as it trembled slightly, his body felt so numb, his heart felt so heavy, closing his eyes for a moment as he tried to calm down, knowing well that you wouldn't like him in such a state, you would scold him. he just... he had to believe that you were still safe.
Sherry was currently trying to look for your location, her fingers quickly typing on the keyboard, hoping that she would find anything related to you for Leon's sake, knowing well he was probably a panicked mess despite hiding it with his gruff demeanor. before she had heard the door slam open.
signaling Leon's arrival, she wasn't too surprised; she was just surprised that he was managing to calm himself down, hearing the footsteps from behind her as she looked over her shoulder, seeing Leon's familiar figure, offering a weak smile that would do nothing to comfort the man, not when you were gone.
" I still haven't found anything. It's like... the signal on her phone is weak. " Sherry shook her head, but that didn't stop her; hearing Sherry's words, Leon paused. There could still be a chance that you were alive, God, he hoped that chance was right. " How are you holding up? " he asked gruffly, doing anything to distract himself from the storm in his mind.
Sherry paused, her fingers hovering over the keyboard as she sighed, looking down at her gloved hand, watching it tremble slightly as she forced herself to look away, not wanting ot see the marks of the virus peeking through the leather fabric, " I'm... holding up fine, " she lied, of course, she would. Leon paused, hearing her trembling voice, taking a few steps towards her as he placed a hand on her shoulder.
The silence between them was slightly comforting. Even in a struggling moment like this one, the only audible sound was their breathing and the typing of the keyboard; they were still alive. That thought alone comforted both of them slightly.
When you woke up, your throat was aching, and you tried to move your arms, only to find them tied up. That's when it finally hit you, memories rushing back to you like a wave, enough to hurt your head and make the edges of your vision blacken slightly, giving you tunnel vision for a few moments as you tried to calm down.
You were in a dark room, no source of light anywhere, your eyes adjusting to the pitch-black room, taking a few breaths to calm yourself down and to not hyperventilate in a moment like this. You weren't stupid enough to start screaming for help; you didn't even know where you were.
The only things your ears and nose could make out were the smell of decay and dirt, leaving you in a confused spot as you shut your eyes, hoping that your vision would clear. But that's when you heard the clicking of something, snapping you awake instantly, becoming alert for anything.
" You're finally awake.. good, good. I hoped that you wouldn't be dead. " a male's voice echoed, leaving you in a state of confusion. Was he the only one who brought you here? You could only presume so, hearing something click as a bright light blinded your vision, earning a soft groan from you as you squeezed your eyes shut.
" Worry not, I have no intentions of harming you... yet. You just happen to be a part of the plans. consider yourself.. special. " his words echoed in your mind, plans? What plans? When you finally opened your eyes, blinking a few times to adjust to the sudden lighting, you saw a man, his back facing you; he was big. You didn't recognize him.
" ...who- who are you?.. " Your voice was hoarse, a ringing was heard in your ears, making you wince slightly before the man paused at your question, turning around, seeing the man in his glory. " Oh, forgive me, how rude of me. Dr. Victor Gideon. " The name ran out in your head, yet you didn't recognize it at all.
" What do you want from me?.. " you asked. Gideon tilted his head to the side slightly as your words before chuckling, as if what you said was the funniest thing ever. confusing you even more, but before you could say anything, he spoke up, " It's not exactly what I want from you, but rather... what I need from you, Mrs. Kennedy. "
confusion filled your veins, but your mind worked through it quickly, " You're using me as bait... for my husband to what? " Your response made Gideon smile with delight, taking a few steps toward you, but you tried your best to back away with little effort due to being tied to the chair. " You smart girl, I like you. emotional but smart. " his words made your skin crawl, quite literally.
Gideon walked to your side, his larger frame towering over yours, brushing his fingers on the back of your nape, " It's a shame that you have to die, but don't worry... " his large hand wrapping around your neck, cutting off your air supply, surprising you immediately. " I'll make it painless. Your husband will be glad for that much. "
" g-get- off of me! " You tried to shake off his grip, you weren't sure what to think, he was threatening you with sweet words, enough to make your skin crawl, hearing his sickening chuckle again before he released his grip on your throat, you gasped for air for a moment.
" ..ah, I see why you're so emotional now, " Gideon slowly trailed off, making you pause, looking at the man with a confused expression, glaring daggers at him, but he didn't seem threatened by that, only smiling, " you have a life growing inside of you, does your husband know this? "
It was quiet in the room; neither Sherry nor Leon bothered to fill up the silence, just their presences comforting each other in such a dire moment. Sherry knew better than to ask Leon how he was feeling, already sensing the waves of emotions coming off of the tired man.
Sherry paused, seeing a notification pop up in the right corner of the screen. It was another body. " Leon.. come look at this. " Sherry called out to the man as he took a few steps forward, looking at the screen as Sherry pulled up the latest body that was discovered, his eyes narrowing, " I'll go check it out. " Leon lowly mumured, making Sherry pause as she looked at him with a concerned expression.
" ..I'll send you the coordinates, just.. be careful. Your symptoms could be getting worse. " Sherry reminded before she looked back at the screen, her fingers moving to type on the keyboard, " I'll keep looking for (your name). " Her words comforted Leon in a sense, before he could only nod at her words, offering a small smile to reassure her. He started to walk out of the room, shutting the door behind him, as she was the only one to remain in the room.
unaware of the danger lurking in the shadows.
Leon drove to where the coordinates were, Elbridge, seeing a bunch of police cars at the scene, letting out a tired sigh as he turned off the engine, putting on his earpiece before he got out of the Porsche. making his way to the scene, forcing his brain to go on investigator mode, trying to hold in his emotions, like a dam waiting for the water to explode, the water is already leaking.
Fortunately, it was the same as the others; the markings on the deceased's body were almost like decay, another survivor of Raccoon City who had died from similar effects as the other bodies they had found. It wasn't comforting to know that he could end up like that or worse, better than being shot in the head.
Leon was kneeling by the body, the hand only peeking out, revealing the same black blotches, before he stood up, hearing Sherry's voice through the earpiece: " Talk to me. Is this one like the others? " walking towards the yellow tape before he curtly replied, " Same black blotches. "
Pulling the tape up as he knelt to get under it, hearing her voice come through again, " And it's not postmortem lividity? " he stood up straight as he replied, " No... " making his way towards his Porsche as he passed by a few cops, " No, this is different. That's six now. Six survivors of Raccoon City all dead from the same thing. "
Sherry's voice came through again as he came near his Porsche, " Yeah.. that's.. not good. " Leon replied quickly, " No.. No, it's not. " opening the car door as he got in, slamming the door shut as he settled in the driver's seat, " But.. I have something for you, " Leon grabbed his phone from the passenger's seat, not letting his hopes get up so quickly as he heard Sherry speak again, " The team has settled on a person of interest.. someone with ties to Umbrella. "
Leon scrolled through a few photos of the person, listening to Sherry speak, " Victor Gideon, " letting out a quiet hum as he placed his phone down on the passenger's seat, " Who is he? " Leon grabbed his gun as Sherry spoke again, " A former T-virus researcher. " before she spoke again, " Hey, I just got a report of a missing police officer. I-It might be unrelated, but he disappeared near where the fifth body was found. "
Leon put his gun away in his jacket, glancing over at his gloved hand, moving it slightly, " You there, Leon? " slowly shaking his head even though she couldn't see, " Yeah, I'm here. " glancing over at the rear view mirror as she spoke again, concern in her voice, " You okay? " Leon didn't bother responding, simply starting the car's engine, curtly replying with " send me the address, I'll check it out. "
In simple words, the next few minutes mixed along with hours were followed by hell itself. Leon was helping out a woman named Grace Ashcroft, even if it did mean going through hell and back during the whole night just to help her escape. His wife? Sherry was still trying to locate her; wherever she was hidden, it was a good spot, enough for her phone not to get located easily.
As the hours ticked by, so agonizingly slow. His symptoms grew worse, and his 'disease' was spreading throughout his body. Even by the end of it all, he failed to help out Grace and the little girl she was with, Emily. piling on his even larger amount of guilt. knowing that he's failed to be there for people he desperately wanted to help.
Leon couldn't even go back home; he wouldn't dare when you're not there, so when finally Sherry was able to locate you, telling him that you were at Raccoon City, Leon practically dropped everything, knowing that Grace and his wife were at Raccoon City. It was bait. Oh, he knew that so well.
They hoped that Leon would take it so eagerly, like a dog getting a treat, and he did. not bothering ot wait for backup, his emotions boiling over, he wouldn't and couldn't wait around for backup, knowing well that you were probably suffering and he hadn't been there to help you.
His number one weakness was you, and clearly, they knew that well enough to dangle his wife right in front of him, and he took it without hesitation. Leon was always so weak for you, willing to do anything just to get you back, even if it meant going back to the place he never wanted to go back to.
He had to go for you and Grace. He couldn't just wait.
You've been alone for god knows how long, the only source of light was the light shining on you, Gideon had left you a long time ago, and you were alone. listening for any sort of noise. But you gave up even doing something like that, thankfully, that man was stupid or planned to leave a small scalpel behind, it was near the light, so... here you were, trying to grab the scapel to free yourself and try to find your phone and where you were at.
After shifting for so much and scooting closer and closer to the table, you finally got near enough to have one of your fingers grab the cold metal, the sensation tingling under your fingertips as you tried to position yourself carefully. scratching the cold blade with the rope that was holding your wrists together.
Yet every so often, you thought of what that man had said to you, a life growing inside of you. It was a pestering thought. You assumed that he was lying and tried not to think much of it, yet it bugged you and stuck itself onto you like a second skin.
Regardless of that, you finally managed to free your wrists after minutes of trying to cut through the rope, wincing slightly as you moved your hands around; they were bruised. Being the rational person you were, you decided to keep the scalpel, regardless of the small blade.
slowly getting up as your body ached, you wouldn't be too surprised if that man had injected something into you when you were passed out. Your body felt much weaker than usual, to a concerning amount, but as you looked around the dusty room for any sort of exit, trying to use the same exit that Gideon had used, it was blocked with something.
Of course, he would block it with something. But you were a very persistent woman. So, like any other woman, you tried to push open the door, but the thing that was barricading the door from the other side wasn't heavy, much to your advantage. Of course, at first, it wasn't easy pushing the door open; your body was much weaker than before.
Yet as you were trying to free yourself, Leon was already in Raccoon City, roaming the ruined city, reliving a few memories as he passed by familiar buildings, but he wasn't at the center of the ruined city yet.
After minutes of slamming your body against the door, you managed to free yourself with much of your dumb luck, enough to make a small yet large enough crack to push your body through; as soon as you got out of that suffocating room, your sight was met with a ruined city. confusion flickering in your body, before you noticed that you were actually on a ruined but tall building.
much to your dumb luck. You quite literally had to be careful where you stepped because you were about to fall through a couple of floors if you hadn't paid attention to your surroundings, and that included the large holes in the floors. You had to find a way to get down to the ground and not fall to your demise.
easy right? Well, you're horribly wrong. stairs? all gone. Holes in the ground? You were sure you were going to break your bones if you dropped from a great height. You didn't even know how Gideon managed to get out of the building. because you were stuck unless you wanted your lower body broken if you dropped down.
But, much to your luck, your husband, Leon, was already searching the depths of the city; you just had to wait, and you did! hoping that Leon was actually looking for you, or you were going to sacrifice your lower body just to get down from the tall building you were trapped in.
Leon was already exploring the ruined city, and Grace was somewhere near the center of Raccoon City, but he couldn't get on the other side of that locked main gate, so he was trying to find the detonator parts for the unfinished detonator. He came across zombies and other unpleasant things like spiders, or god knows what they are. The last building he wanted to check was the tall one before he would return to the central camp.
Not the easiest ruined building to explore, but he managed to do it.
While he was looking around the first few floors, he came across a few zombies and quickly got rid of them to make a safe path for himself, hoping to find something useful within the building, and eventually, He finally got around to the top floor that was impossible to get to.
But the man was persistent. If there was a way, then there's a will to do it.
It took a few minutes at best to find something to get to the top floors, but he did it; the floors had barely any zombies in them, and he wasn't complaining, though. Leon was rounding a corner before he saw a familiar figure, squinting his eyes for a moment to confirm his suspicions. Your back was facing him, but he could recognize your familiar features even if your back was facing him. " (your name)? " he called out, making you jump in surprise, but you turned around, and you two made eye contact.
The wind was blowing softly, you took small steps to your husband; your eyes welling up with tears, so happy to see a familiar face, " Leon- " but before you could take another step towards him, something, or rather, a hand, grabbed your ankle, making you fall and started dragging you down as you screamed in surprise, Leon immediately rushed over to you, dropping his gun as he dropped down to the concrete and tried to grab one of your hands, dust swirled everywhere.
Thankfully. Leon was quick enough; his hand was holding onto your hand, and you were hanging in the air. A zombie had grabbed your ankle. Leon thought he had cleared every floor, but it was clear that one was smart enough to hide. He wasn't going to lose you now; he couldn't when he just found you.
Leon's muscles flexed as he managed to pull you up, making you land near the floor beside him as he grabbed his axe from his belt and quickly cut the zombie's hand off. Once he made sure they had died from the fall, making a sickening crunch, Leon immediately checked on you.
" hun- are you okay?- What happened to you? " his voice was urgent as he grabbed your shoulders, noticing the bruises on your body. The sight made his heart ache with pain. The dam holding back the water was starting to break because you were hurt. He didn't bother to hide his emotions as you shakily nodded your head, wrapping your arms around him as you sobbed into his shoulder.
Leon didn't bother to stay in that building any further with you; he didn't want to risk you getting hurt even more, so, after twenty minutes of going down floor by floor, you two finally made it to the ground. Leon didn't think it was smart to have a conversation right there and started taking you to the central camp, making sure to protect you from everything.
Until you two finally arrived at the tent, he made sure nobody or nothing was following you two, and once he had made sure, he checked on you. " ..are you okay?- Did anyone hurt you? " Leon asked you as his gloved hands held your cheeks, his worried eyes checking your body for any injuries, but only found bruises and scratches.
" I-I'm fine.. I'm just glad to see you. " You slowly shook your head at his other question. You weren't sure if you should tell your husband what Gideon had said to you earlier, you didn't want to dump more issues on Leon, and held your tongue, especially since you two weren't in the best spot right now.
Leon let out a breath he didn't know he was holding in when he heard your response. He wrapped his arms around your shaky frame as you two held each other for a moment, despite your dire situation. Leon was so happy to see you unharmed; he was so utterly exhausted, but having you in his arms eased his troubles.
After a moment of silence, Leon spoke up quietly, " You need to stay here. I'll have Sherry send backup to come pick you up and take you someplace safe. " his words surprised you. You pulled back from the embrace and stared at him with a confused expression. " You're... not gonna stay? " Your words made his heart ache even more. He didn't want to leave you when he had just found you yet.
He had to find grace; he didn't know what he would do with himself if he just left her alone with them. " I have to find someone. It's not safe for you to come with me. " Leon pressed a small kiss on your head. His words made your heart ache.
" I can't lose you.. I'm so scared. " Your voice shook, you weren't scared of being by yourself, you were scared of losing him. Your words made Leon pause, " I know.. But I have to help her... I love you. " Leon pressed a small kiss near your lips, hugging you one last time before he left, leaving just as quickly as he found you.
You were left alone for god knows how long. quietly crying until you couldn't cry anymore, you were just alone.. in the ruined city, whilst your husband was off to his own death, or at least you hoped that he wasn't. You hoped for everything but a horrible ending for you. You didn't bother to rush after him; you didn't want to argue with him, not when he's in such a bad state.
You subconsciously held your stomach, briefly looking down as your hand held your abdomen, a small yet sad smile appeared on your lips, shifting your weight from one foot to the other, the only sounds were the sounds outside you didn't want to name.
You were just looking around, doing nothing too crazy as you waited; minutes turned into hours. It was starting to get dark out, your eyes felt heavy, but you kept them open just in case anything happened until you heard noises outside, loud ones. enough to startle you and alert your body to stay awake, to which it did.
Peeking out, you saw a helicopter landing nearby with a few agents rushing out. One of them seemed to see your figure from a distance and quickly rushed over to you, asking for your name, to which you provided, and he immediately took you with him into the chopper. Everything after that was a blur of events you couldn't even remember due to how tired you were.
Yet, in the end of all of it. You were brought back home, and an agent stayed with you in case anything happened: you tried asking for your husband, but the agent wouldn't answer any of your questions, fearing for the worst already, but something in your heart told you to wait, just wait for him. You didn't give up on him so easily.
You forced yourself to clean the messy house and went to bed on the couch, but you couldn't sleep, tossing and turning, leaving bitter feelings swelling up inside of you until you felt sick, so utterly sick to the point you rushed to the bathroom and threw up. Gideon's words echoed in your brain.
Forcing you to remember that... rather weird interaction, what if you were pregnant? He seemed so sure when he said it with that creepy smile, you fixated on his words to the point you forgot about your surroundings, sitting down near the toilet in case you threw up even more.
until you heard a familiar voice from the entrance of the bathroom, " feeling sick after all of that? " You snapped your head towards the door, where your husband, Leon, was currently leaning on the doorframe, looking worse but better in a sense; he wasn't wearing those gloves anymore.
You could only force yourself to smile at his horrible joking, shaking your head as you stood up, " I was worried sick about you, and that's the first thing you say to me? " you mused, letting out a disbelieving laugh as Leon chuckled along with you.
" ..I missed you. There wasn't a single moment when I wasn't thinking about you. " Leon's words made your heart warm, a small smile appearing on your lips as your worries went away just by your husband's words, carefully taking his hand in yours. " You truly make me wonder why I even love you. "
Author's Note: fuck my stupid fucking chungus life, these blonde men can't keep getting away with this
Summary: You meet Leon Kennedy at work, the absolute last place you should be looking to date anyone. Too bad you're a sucker for blue eyes and vaguely pathetic-looking men.
Word Count: 15.1k
Content: 18+, smut, vendetta era!leon, pining, leon is shyyy, reader knows what she wants (hint: it's leon), leon is dealing with trauma, reader heals him with her pussy, leon whimpers bc of course he does, fingering, oral f!receiving, oral m!receiving, unprotected p in v sex, lowkey breeding kink as per usual, no use of y/n
To Read on AO3
Masterlist
You meet Leon Kennedy at work.
That fact alone should be enough to prevent you from entertaining any romantic notions that pop into your head when your eyes meet his baby blues during your introduction. You're a fresh transfer from the West Coast office, and your job doesn’t really leave room for much socializing—your abysmal dating history shows that. So, maybe you're just a glutton for punishment because you bat your eyelashes a little more than necessary as a coy smile appears at the corners of your lips.
He offers his hand for you to shake, his skin warm against yours—it's brief as your supervisor quickly whisks you away to meet the next person, and you can't help but call out innocently to him, "I look forward to working with you."
You chance a glance over your shoulder, noticing Leon's eyes lingering on you. When he realizes you've caught him staring, a red flush spreads up his neck, and he swiftly turns away. You struggle to hold back a grin as you follow your superior, nodding along to what he's saying as if you've been paying attention the whole time.
You see him again the next week during a mission briefing as you lean back in your seat, notebook balanced on your crossed legs while you chew the end of a pen. When your eyes cursorily shift to him, his gaze, which you know has been steadily on you the entire meeting, flicks pointedly down and away, and he raises his hand to scratch the back of his head as his cheeks turn pink. Once everyone is dismissed and you're gathering your things, he quietly whispers a 'good luck' as he brushes past, his hand grazing your lower back. You respond with a wink and a 'you too'.
Three weeks later, you're sitting at your computer, a strain in your eyes as you stare at the screen, mindlessly typing your report for the mission—the bruises on your face are starting to yellow at the edges, blending with the deep purple into a sickly, painful color. The rest of your body isn't faring much better after falling nearly twenty feet through a skylight during a chase through an old Umbrella facility. Honestly, it's a miracle you didn't break a limb or two—or your neck.
"What happened to you?" The voice prompts you to crane your head toward the source, causing a wince as you see Leon standing next to your desk with a worried frown. You take a moment to observe him, noticing a few scrapes on his cheeks that weren't there the last time you'd seen him. He and his partner had been on cleanup duty for the mission—not that you'd left them much to clean up; there's a reason the DSO hired you, and it wasn't because of sloppiness.
"Fell through a skylight," you answer blankly. When his eyes widen, you let out a huff of laughter that only causes your ribs to ache. "Could've been a lot worse, trust me."
"Looks like it," he says. "Maybe avoid high places next time."
The tone in his voice sounds like it's a reprimand—a warning for something most people would see as a rookie mistake—you're not a rookie—but you notice the smirk that flickers at the edges of his mouth. "I'll make sure to put the request in," you joke as you take a sip of your coffee that has, admittedly, been sitting on your desk for way too long, grimacing when the bitter liquid hits your tongue. "God, that tastes like sludge."
"Someone should've warned you about the break room coffee," he jokes. "I'm pretty sure it could be considered a biohazard."
You purse your lips, willing the taste from your tongue, knowing it's going to linger in the back of your throat all day as you nod in agreement. "I'll file a complaint with OSHA."
The small smile that creeps onto his face at your joke makes the butterflies in your stomach go wild. He shifts slightly on his feet, looking as though he wants to say more, or maybe he's just reluctant to end the conversation. Regardless, he taps lightly on the top of your cubicle wall with his palm, signaling he's going to take his leave. "Well, I'll let you get back to your reports," he says, about to walk away before pausing, hovering for a moment before adding, "I'm glad you're alright."
The sincerity in his voice makes you soften, your shoulders dropping as you stare at him with gratitude. "Thank you, Agent Kennedy," you say, turning back to your computer, though you watch him leave from the corner of your eye until he's gone from your sight.
Later that night, you're joylessly chewing on a bland granola bar while walking back to your desk after a much-needed break among a sea of cubicles that have long since cleared out for the day. You come to a stop just a few feet from your destination when you notice a paper coffee cup deliberately placed in front of your keyboard. The logo of the fancy coffee shop down the road stares back at you—the one you always tell yourself you're going to stop in on the way to work but never wake up early enough to do so.
Your head swivels from side to side, glancing around the office to make sure you didn't just miss some other poor soul lingering after hours under the threat of looming deadlines, but the rest of the office remains resolutely dark except for the glow of your own computer and its blinding blue light—probably why you've had an impending migraine for most of the night.
Stepping closer, you see a bright pink Post-it note tucked underneath, one taken from your own stack that sits right under your monitor. You toss the half-eaten granola bar into the trash beside your desk before picking up the coffee cup and then the note, gazing down at it curiously.
'Hope this is better than the breakroom sludge.
P.S. Don't stay too late.'
There's no name or even initials signed at the bottom, but you still know who it's from. You huff through your nose as if trying to dispel the ridiculous amount of giddiness that swells in your belly at the kind gesture. You were only gone from your desk for thirty minutes, so you're surprised you didn't even see him skulking about like some wayward food delivery driver.
The coffee is still pleasantly hot when you take a sip; it's a medium-roast, smooth, and a bit sweet. You savor the taste, warming your palms against the cup. As you take a seat, you tuck the note into your top desk drawer with a fond smile.
Despite his words, you stay later than you intend to, but he doesn't need to know that.
Thus begins a little song and dance between you and Leon.
You leave a cup of coffee for him on his desk the next morning—just a black coffee with no extras, but you set a small bag filled with creamers and a variety of sugar packets you pilfered from the coffee shop next to it, along with a note that says:
'Didn't know how you like it.'
You drop it off quickly before you can talk yourself out of it, telling yourself you're just returning the favor from last night, and ignoring the fact that you specifically woke up thirty minutes early to ensure you had enough time to stop at the coffee shop this morning before work.
If you're a bit more aware of who comes in and out of the office, peeking over your cubicle wall for a familiar mop of dirty blonde hair, that's your own business… at least until your neighbor gives you an inquisitive look and asks if you're waiting for someone. You blanch, shake your head, and sink a little deeper into your seat, then redirect your gaze to your computer. The blush of being caught spreads to your cheeks as you idly pretend to check your emails.
When you finally see him, it's in passing in the hall, but he's holding a familiar cup and sends you a shy smile, mouthing 'thank you' before ducking into a conference room. It's a high you ride through the rest of the day, even if you're mildly embarrassed by how the man and his pretty blue eyes have invaded your frontal lobe.
You feel like a teenager pining after a crush.
Between him being sent out on assignment and you being medically cleared for field work again after your fall, you don't see each other for a few weeks. Luckily, when you return from this mission, you're mostly unscathed, though the same can't be said for Leon. Scrapes that are just beginning to scab over mark his face, and one arm is cradled in a sling. Overall, he looks rather pathetic—you hate how much it's working for you.
Leaning over his cubicle wall, you place a coffee cup down in front of him before giving him a sympathetic glance. "Skylight get you too?" you ask, straight-faced.
He lets out a hoarse, wheezing chuckle, wincing and putting a hand over his ribs. "Don't make me laugh," he says as he grabs the coffee. "Try an elevator shaft."
Grimacing, you take a sip of your own drink before muttering, "Bummer."
"At least I get some good coffee as a reward," he offers optimistically with a playful smile on his lips as he reclines more comfortably in his chair.
"I fear your standards may be too low, Agent Kennedy," you tell him.
"Leon," he quickly interjects.
Quirking a brow, you let out a curious hum, not understanding what he means.
"Leon," he repeats. "You can call me Leon."
A moment of silence passes between you two before the corners of your lips curl up, and you lean closer to him over the half-wall of his cubicle. "Okay, Leon," you agree, your tongue curling around his name experimentally, low and intimate in a way that's completely inappropriate for the workplace.
You notice the subtle change in his expression—how his pupils dilate, and his mouth hangs open slightly. Someone in the office coughs somewhere, and he snaps back to himself, his one good hand gripping the armrest of his chair as he looks away from you, shifting in his seat. You smirk, eyes glinting with amusement; you hadn't expected the man to be so shy.
As much as you'd like to stay and prod him a bit more, you decide to take pity on the poor man instead. "I'm glad you're alright," you say, echoing his sentiments from a few weeks ago as you turn to head back to your own desk.
He calls your name before you can get more than a foot away, and you stop, glancing over your shoulder with raised eyebrows. "Would you—" He closes his mouth, swallowing thickly as if his throat suddenly has gone dry. "—Would you like to get dinner sometime?"
Several heads peek over their cubicles, curious coworkers probably eager to hear this juicy bit of office gossip—Infamously aloof Agent Leon S. Kennedy asking out the pretty transfer from the West Coast? Yeah, that's going to make its rounds.
Leon is so absorbed in you that he doesn't even notice the nosy onlookers. There's nervous tension around him; you can see his jaw muscle twitch as he clenches his teeth, anticipating your reply—maybe even thinking you'll say no, as if you haven't been flirting with him since day one.
You step back toward him, holding a hand out expectantly, and when he gives you a confused stare, you clarify, "Your phone."
He scrambles to grab his phone from his pocket, and it's surprising how endearing it is to watch a man in his thirties eagerly offer it to you. When you swipe up on his phone and see he doesn't have a passcode, you give him an incredulous look but say nothing before typing in your information. You even send yourself a message, ensuring you have his number, knowing the chance of him chickening out isn't exactly zero percent. You feel your phone vibrate in your jacket.
In a swift motion, you lock his phone and toss it back to him, which he catches with ease, calling out, "Text me," as you walk away.
It takes him three days to text you.
Even as you continue to see each other in the office, leaving coffees on each other's desks and chatting in the break room, the only text in your message thread with Leon is the little coffee emoji you'd sent from his phone. It's Wednesday, and for the first time in weeks, you've managed to leave work at a decent time, and to celebrate, you're plopped on your couch, folding laundry and enjoying a glass of cheap wine while watching your favorite shitty reality TV show.
The muffled pings of your phone—three times in rapid succession—catch your attention, making you pause and toss the towel you'd been folding aside. When you search around for it, you realize you must've accidentally buried it under piles of clean clothes. "Fuck," you mutter as you carefully begin to peek under each stack until you find it in between pairs of underwear.
You're only mildly surprised to see three texts from Leon—or rather, 'Large Coffee, Light & Sweet,' as you've named him in your phone after learning his preferred way to take his coffee. A little surprising because you definitely pegged him for a plain black coffee kind of guy.
Hey.
It's Leon.
…Which you know already because you have my number.
You snort as you read the texts, hesitating to tap out a reply, thinking you might make him suffer for making you wait so long, but unfortunately for you—or fortunately for him—you lack that kind of impulse control.
Still, you can't help but make him sweat a bit, and only reply with a simple:
hi
The response is almost instant and makes you immediately regret the slight pettiness:
How was your day?
The question makes you want to do unspeakable things to him, you think sourly as your eyes narrow at the message on your phone. Every lackluster interaction you've had with a man in the last decade flashes before your eyes when you realize not one has ever asked you something as simple as how your day was.
Probably a talking point to bring up to your therapist.
finally got to leave the office on time :)
You send a picture of your hand holding your half-empty wine glass, backlit by your TV, being careful not to include any piles of laundry in the background—you don't want to scare him away with pictures of your delicates after he finally worked up the courage to text you.
You wait a few moments, biting the inside of your cheek as you watch your phone expectantly. When you finally set it down on your coffee table to resume folding laundry, it pings again. The speed with which you pick it up would be embarrassing if anyone else were around to witness it, but in the safety and solitude of your apartment, you permit yourself this humiliating instance of desperation.
He sends a picture back, with the top half of his face at the bottom, as the rest of the image shows the empty, dark office behind him. Unashamed, you click on the picture and zoom in to get a better look at him—his sandy hair, which usually falls into his eyes, is pushed back slightly, offering you a clearer view. The back of your neck warms as your gaze meets the still image of his that stares back at you, and you quickly click away to read the message.
Wish I was as lucky.
And just as you're about to type a reply, another message comes through.
What are you watching?
crappy reality tv
You type back.
gonna be a late night??
Resolutely, you put your phone back down, watching intently as the little dots pop up signaling that he's typing as you absentmindedly fold the rest of your laundry, knowing if you stopped now, you'd never get it all done tonight. It stops and starts several times before you finally get another message.
I hope not, all I have is the breakroom sludge to keep me awake.
Smiling, you speed through the rest of your laundry before replying:
maybe you should spend a little less time texting women then?
Woman.
You frown, brows furrowing.
what?
I'm only talking to one woman.
An unnamed feeling swells comfortably in your chest, as if it belongs there. You stand, hooking your laundry basket onto your hip with one hand while staring down at your phone in the other. You walk the entire way to your room with your eyes fixed on your screen, setting the basket on your bed before gnawing your bottom lip raw as you type and erase a response.
After several attempts, you hit send before you can rethink it anymore.
is she cute?
He doesn't make you wait long for an answer; clearly, he doesn't intend to get his reports done tonight.
I think beautiful would be a better word.
You toss the phone away from you as if it burned you, hands on your hips as you sway your weight from one leg to the other—nervous energy flooding through you. Maybe you expected him to deflect or be coy about it; you definitely didn't expect such a sincere response.
Another message pops up in the chat.
I'm also hoping she'll agree to go to dinner with me on Friday even though I was a coward who took three days to text her.
A grin works its way onto your face as you grab your phone.
i suppose it depends on where you plan on taking her. it'll have to be somewhere prettyyyy nice if you made her wait three days for a text
He sends a link to a restaurant—it's an Italian place, and a quick glance at the menu shows it has no prices listed—pretty nice, indeed.
Is this nice enough?
If he were any other man, you might think he's being facetious, but in the few months you've known him, you've exchanged numerous sarcastic remarks with each other, never with any malice.
Another text pops up, as if he's getting nervous by your lack of reply.
I can find a different place if you don't like that one.
You smile to yourself, tapping out a response.
no that's perfect
I'll pick you up at 7
sounds good, i'm gonna head to bed, don't stay too late
I won't, I promise.
When you see Leon the next morning, he's already at his desk like he never left last night, and there are bags under his eyes. The sling he'd been wearing all week is notably missing; likely, he'd finally been cleared to stop wearing it. As you hand him his drink, you tease, "Hey, look at you, two working arms again."
"As good as new," he replies, accepting it tiredly.
"I take it you ended up staying late," you say.
He takes a gulp of it like it's the elixir of life, sighing contentedly into the cup. "Yeah, and I still didn't get the report done—might be easier now that I have two hands." His eyes finally scan over your figure, brows pinching together like he's taking notice of something. "You look nice."
The urge to poke at him a little wins out before you can even think better of it. "Do I not look nice normally?" you ask, no trace of humor on your expression.
His eyes widen, and you can see the way panic tenses through his entire body. "No," he says quickly. "That's not what I meant. You always look nice. I've just never—" His gaze flicks down to the pencil skirt you're wearing, different from the normal pantsuits you wear in the office, even more so from the tactical gear he's seen you in heading out on missions.
You come round the side of his desk, sitting against the edge of it as you lean over, voice low so none of the office busybodies hear, "Does the skirt do something for you, Agent Kennedy?" you question.
It's like he doesn't know what to do with his hands, gripping the faux leather of the armrests on his chair before lowering them to rub his sweaty palms flat against the tops of his knees. "Yes," he admits shyly at first, but he sees the teasing glint in your eye and grows bolder. "Would like to know the occasion so I might see you in it again."
You chuckle at his words, take a sip of your drink, and say, "I've got a deposition this afternoon on the Hill." You're not thrilled about it, and it's clearly written on your face. "Those idiots in Congress already like to rip into me for some shit that happened in West Africa a few years ago, like that wasn't BSAA's screw-up. I try not to give them much ammunition to use against me, which means dressing to old white conservative men's standards."
Leon seems to take affront to this answer, brows furrowing as a sneer makes its way onto his lips. "They make a habit of commenting on your clothes?" he asks.
Laughing a bit louder, you cross your arms before staring at him and realizing he's serious. "Leon, I'm a woman, of course, they comment on my clothes." That answer does nothing to diminish the perturbed expression. You soften your stance a bit, reaching out to comfortingly pat his shoulder. "Trust me, it's nothing I can't handle."
Before you can pull your hand away, he grabs it. You remember his skin being rough and callous from when you shook hands on your first day. It should be off-putting, but the way his thumb carefully caresses the top of your hand is anything but. "I know you're capable of handling a bunch of asshole politicians," he says softly. "I've seen you in action, I've read the reports—I know you're a great agent, and I wish you didn't have to bend to the whims of those people."
You fall silent for a moment, warmth spreading through your body originating from where your hands are joined. Admittedly, it's nice to hear someone acknowledge your hard work—you've spent so much of your career fighting and clawing to get to where you are. It hasn’t been easy; the constant dismissal you've faced because you’re a woman in this field—you just want to be taken seriously.
"I appreciate you saying that," you say. You squeeze his hand before reluctantly drawing away. "I gotta go meet my lawyer before we head down, but I'll see you later?" You don't mean for it to come out like a question, but there's a twinge of hope in your voice.
"Yeah, you'll have to let me know how it goes," he says with a smile.
"Bye, Leon," you breathe out as you leave.
Leon's eyes stay glued to you until you disappear into the elevator.
Several excruciating hours later, you're finally stepping out of your deposition, your ass numb from the god-awful chairs they force you to sit in, and you squint as if you've never seen sunlight before when you walk out of the building.
Pulling your phone from your purse, you see you have a text from Leon from only a few minutes ago.
Thought I might try this place.
It's accompanied by a picture of a coffee shop's storefront, different from your usual one. Cute is the first word that comes to mind as you stare at the photo—the building is bright pink with neon signs and flowers in the window.
feeling adventurous today agent kennedy?
The heels you're wearing are digging into the backs of your ankles and pinching your toes in all the wrong ways. You can't wait to shuck them off in favor of the more sensible shoes you have back at the office that you regrettably forgot to take with you to change into. Your phone pings again.
Are you finished with your deposition?
While you're walking, you snap a quick selfie—not caring that your hair is windswept or that it's probably from a bad angle. You just flash a thumbs up to the camera before sending it.
all done! mostly painless though congressman fowler is going to get my size 8 shoved up his ass if he makes another comment about how i conduct myself before the "esteemed members of congress" gagggg
As you make it to your car, your feet feeling like you're stepping on shards of glass with each step, you burst out laughing at Leon's next message.
I can call in a bomb threat to his office if you want.
is there actually going to be a bomb?
You reply as you slide into the driver's seat before typing out a second message.
actually don't tell me, i need to have plausible deniability
If I go down I'm taking you with me.
and just when i was beginning to think we were friends </3
You receive another picture: a cup holder safely placed in his passenger seat with two drinks in it.
I guess I just got these two drinks for myself then since we're not friends.
They must be from the new place he'd found, and for some reason, it amuses you to think of Leon Kennedy, dressed in all black with his furrowed brow, in a cute coffee shop ordering you coffee.
nvm all is forgiven <3 what did you get me?
Oh, how quick your tune changes when coffee is at stake.
You wonder if he's smiling like you are you type out your response.
i am a simple woman please don't take my coffee from me i had to deal with politicians today :(
I'll see you back at the office.
what does that mean leon
There's no answer.
leon what does that meaaaaaaan
When no reply comes, you figure he must be driving, so you start your car and head back to the office. As you pull into the parking garage, you spot a familiar figure leaning against a sleek black car. You pull into a nearby parking spot, not caring that your feet are aching as you saunter up to him, watching him as he watches you. "So, what did you get me?" you ask as you reiterate your previous query, reaching out toward the cup in his hand that he isn't drinking from, but he holds it up just out of your reach at the last second.
"Who says this is for you?" he questions with a smirk.
Your mouth drops open as if scandalized, as you recoil back dramatically with a hand poised at your chest. "I didn't know you could be so hurtful, Agent Kennedy."
In the privacy of the underground garage, Leon bends down closer to you, tilting his head as his gaze meets yours, eyes flicking briefly toward your lips before quickly looking back up. You feel your cheeks flush, nervousness flooding your insides from the intensity of his stare. Tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, you glance down at the small space between you.
A fond smile forms on his face—maybe with a satisfaction at being the one to fluster you for once. "I'm just kidding," he assures softly as he gives you the coffee cup. With his now free hand, he plays with a lock of your hair that falls over your shoulder. "I'm excited for tomorrow."
You study his features, the sharp cut of his cheekbones contrasting with the gentle pout of his lips. There's an earnestness in his eyes—they burn cold, sharp like the ice that cracks beneath your feet on a frozen lake.
It is a plunge you think you'd gladly take.
A smile spreads across your lips as you take a sip of your drink, eyebrows rising at the new flavor. It's flowery—not as sweet as one might expect, but not bitter either. This is part of the little game you and Leon have been unintentionally playing over the past few weeks. While you've been able to pin down his favorite drink, he hasn't managed to find yours, so each time he gets you a coffee, it's a different one.
You've begun texting him a star rating for each one, though a 5-star rating remains elusive.
"Getting braver with your choices," you comment slyly.
He raises his eyebrows. "Do you like it?" he asks, and you see the flash of worry in his eyes. "I can go back an—"
Pressing a hand to his chest, you stop him mid-sentence, feeling how he leans into your touch. "Leon, I like it," you assure. "A solid... 3-stars." He frowns at the rating but seems at least pleased that you don't completely hate the drink he got you. "As much as I'd love to sit here and chat all day, these shoes are killing me, and I left my comfy pair at my desk."
"I can carry you," he offers quickly.
You glance up at him incredulously. "Yes, because that wouldn't make people talk, seeing you carry me into the office because of my poor choice of footwear." Your eyes quickly shift to the faint outline of his biceps through his suit jacket before a mischievous smile spreads across your face. "Besides, I don't think you'd be able to carry me that far." With that, you turn on your heel and begin walking toward the elevator.
"What is that supposed to mean?" he questions, clearly offended by your little quip.
"Nothing," you call out in a singsong voice, hearing his footsteps scramble to catch up with you.
You think he starts to say something about how much he can bench before deciding how self-absorbed that sounds, and instead he settles on a muttered, almost pouting, "I could carry you no problem."
"Mhm," you hum as you push the button to call the elevator and take a sip of your drink; for some reason, it tastes even sweeter with the simmering agent beside you.
You step in as the doors open, and he's close behind; you can feel the warmth of his body at your back. "Now who's being hurtful?" he whispers into your ear as he leans into you. The tickle of his breath against you sends a tingle all the way down to your practically numb toes.
When the doors close, you spin around and lay your hand against his chest. He seems surprised, but he doesn't resist as you push him back until he feels the cold metal of the elevator wall through his suit. "I'm just kidding, Leon," you murmur as you close the gap between you. His free hand moves to your hip, thumb tracing circles into the fabric of your skirt—resisting the temptation to dig his fingertips into your waist, to become more intimate with the curve of your body. "I know you could carry me."
"I could," he confirms quietly. His lips are so close to yours that you can almost taste the coffee on his tongue. There's something ravenous building in you, and you see it reflected in Leon—can see how he's about to surrender to the hunger as his eyes flutter shut and he slants his head to the side.
You're a hair's breadth from the edge when the elevator dings, signaling you've arrived at your floor. "I know," you whisper, then step away as the doors open. "Thanks for the coffee, Leon."
He's leaning against the elevator wall, left staring at you as you walk away, his gaze dropping to the gentle sway of your hips in the pencil skirt, committing it to memory.
That night, you're tearing through your closet, the panic of your date finally setting in. It's been far too long since you've gone on a first date—the nature of your job didn't leave much time for a social life, and even less time for relationships. Most people you've been with have been less than understanding of the weeks, sometimes months, you spend away on missions—if you even get to that point to begin with.
The perpetuity of an endless cycle of talking stages is soul-crushing.
You had almost given up on anything that wasn't a quick, one-time hookup.
As such, most of your wardrobe is dedicated to business wear for the few stretches of time when you're home long enough to be in the office, and more sensible, tactical clothing you wear when you're in the field. With the entirety of your closet now spread across your bed in various piles labeled 'no' and 'absolutely not', you're left staring at the final piece of clothing in your wardrobe.
It's a slinky black dress you bought on a whim a few years ago, probably a size too small now, if you could manage to squeeze into it, and made of a sleek silk. It's simple—maybe too simple for a first date, but your only other option is to find something tomorrow... if you even have time before the actual date.
You groan, grabbing the dress from the hanger, cursing Leon for scheduling a date so soon, and yourself for agreeing to it so easily. You hold your breath as you pull it on, and only after ensuring it actually zips do you release it, relief washing over you. Standing in front of your long mirror, you twist every way, smoothing your hands over the fabric.
You look… nice.
Really nice.
At least, you think you do.
You will yourself not to focus on where the dress hugs a little too tightly, knowing you'll only hyperfixate on things that you have no control over. Instead, you nod to yourself, muttering a soft and accepting, "Okay."
Excitement wells up in you as you take the dress off, carefully hanging it up on the back of your bedroom door. Before you can talk yourself out of it, you snap a picture of it, sending it to Leon with the message:
a little preview for tomorrow night :)
Setting your phone face down on your nightstand, you start putting everything back in your closet, trying not to give in to the impulse to just sit there staring at your phone until he responds. Even when you hear it vibrate, you resist the urge, only looking at it after you've put everything away nearly thirty minutes later.
Are you trying to kill me?
You grin.
no if i was trying to kill you, i'd show you what i was going to wear underneath
You quickly send a second message before putting down your phone.
goodnight!
You hear your phone go off once, then twice, and then a third time as you settle into bed. You take a peek at the notifications while promising yourself you won't respond.
Wait what are you wearing underneath?
Hellooo?
Sweet dreams.
Walking into the office the next day, you're smiling when you spot Leon hovering around your desk. It quickly drops from your lips when you finally see the grim expression he's wearing. As you set your stuff down in the chair, you ask, "What's wrong?" There's already anxiety tightening your chest.
"I'm being sent out on a mission," he says, a frown on his face.
You try to keep a neutral countenance as you accept the coffee cup he holds out, cradling it in your hands, appreciating the warmth it provides when the rest of your body suddenly feels cold. "When do you leave?"
Glancing down at his watch, he can hardly look you in the eye as he says, "Three hours."
"Oh," you murmur, trying not to let your disappointment show but ultimately failing. It's not like you didn't know this was a possibility—maybe you just naively thought you'd at least get through the first date without your jobs getting in the way.
Reaching out, he grabs your hand. "Can we reschedule?" he asks.
You nod, forcing a smile—this isn't Leon's fault, and you don't want him to feel worse than he already no doubt feels. "Yeah, of course."
"I'll text you, okay?" he offers—it's an olive branch, one you're glad to take.
"Okay," you say. "Make sure to check in when you can—" You freeze and grimace, realizing you might be overstepping some boundaries. You're not his girlfriend, you have no right to request him to keep in contact while he's away. "—If you're able to, or want to—"
"I will." He cuts you off before you can dig yourself deeper into a hole, a tender smile on his face as he holds your hand in his. "I'm really sorry," he murmurs.
"It's okay," you assure him, because it really is. "I get it, trust me, I get it." Your fingers play with his, thumb mapping the callouses built up along his hand from shooting—there's one right on the pad of his index finger that you find yourself delicately brushing against. "Just means I get to order the most expensive dessert on the menu when we go."
"Gonna make my wallet hurt, huh?" he teases.
You wink. "Think of it as a rescheduling fee."
He carefully extracts his hand from yours, as it pains him to do so, and checks his watch. "I have to go to the briefing, but I'll see you when I get back," he says as he pulls away, but he stops short just a foot or so away from you as if he's remembered something."You didn't answer me last night."
"Hm?" You pretend not to have a clue what he's talking about, sipping at your drink—it's a caramel macchiato, you realize.
He lowers his voice to make sure no one else can overhear. "About what's underneath."
Your eyes are wide with faux innocence. "Nothing," you answer.
His brows furrow. "What?"
"Nothing is underneath."
Understanding dawns on his face gradually, and you can see the flush that spreads up his neck to his cheeks, tinging the tips of his ears. You hide the shit-eating grin behind another sip of your coffee. "Right," he chokes out, as he forces himself to walk away before any of the follow-up questions escape his mouth.
You watch him go, eyes tracing the broad planes of his back, the tension clear in his shoulders, and you giggle to yourself.
You're not given much time to dwell on Leon's absence, as two days after, you're sent to Alaska—of all places—to follow up on a lead about a suspected BOW facility. It's cold, but a change in scenery is always welcome—especially when it helps distract you from the blue-eyed, brooding agent who's been plaguing your thoughts lately.
Speaking of—
You snap a picture of the snowy landscape—the sun has begun to set behind the snowcapped mountains. The clouds rolling across the sky are bathed in the purple of twilight, casting a soft pink glow against the white-coated crags. It's beautiful in a way that makes you feel insignificant.
You send it to Leon, not expecting an answer as you haven't heard anything from him since he left.
hope you're some place warmer than me right now
You get an answer four days later, and smile at the simple picture of a nondescript forest and the message that reads:
Why don't we ever get sent somewhere nice like Hawaii?
The lead ended up being a bust; you'd spent the better part of your time here trekking through the Alaskan wilderness with your team, though it wasn't as bad as you'd thought it'd be, even when you were trudging through snow waist-deep that left your entire body frozen to the bone. You send a selfie back, cheeks flushed red from the cold and face surrounded by the insulating fur of your heavy jacket.
idk the tundra has kind of grown on me
It's late in the day when you touchdown back in D.C., you snap a picture on the tarmac of the sun setting, sending it to Leon.
home
It's nearly 2 AM when you receive a similar message from him, though the sky is dark and the moon faintly hangs behind a cloud bank.
Home.
Even being woken up out of a dead sleep by your phone going off, you grin like an idiot against your pillow, barely able to type out a 'yay' in response through your bleary-eyed vision before you promptly pass out again, knowing the jetlag is going to be killer in the morning.
Predictably, you're dead on your feet as you walk into the office, two cups of coffee securely in your hands as you shuffle instinctively toward Leon's desk. You spot him hunched over his desk, seeming just as tired and miserable, though he lights up when he sees you coming his way. He's on his feet, meeting you halfway and guiding you toward the empty breakroom with his hands on your shoulders, where no prying eyes can watch your reunion, though you notice a few curious eyes following you both.
You let out a laugh as you hold out his coffee to him. "Good morning." He takes it before gently pulling you close. The tenderness he shows makes your heart swell. You reach up to wrap your arms around his waist, being careful not to spill your drink, inhaling his scent of smoke and gunpowder, muttering into the shoulder of his jacket. "Did you miss me or something?"
"Shut up," he murmurs into your hair, inhaling deeply. "Did you know there's no cell service in rural Poland?" He withdraws slightly to catch your eye, his hand reaching up to trace the line of your jaw with something like reverence. You take a moment to survey him, searching for any injuries—you notice some bruising around his eye, a scab just above his lip, but apart from that, he looks unscathed.
"Probably about as much service as Alaska," you answer. "Deluca almost got mauled by a bear."
Leon's brows raise high on his forehead, eyes wide at the sudden shift in conversation, though he can tell by the giddiness in your voice that you've been waiting to tell him this little bit of information. "What?" he asks.
You're already laughing as you take your phone out of your pocket. "Yeah, I got it on video. The idiot thought he was a bear whisperer," you say as you hold your phone up for him to watch.
His gaze keeps darting between you and the screen, too distracted by your own reaction as you giggle behind your hand, watching Agent Deluca run for his life from a large grizzly bear he tried to approach like a scared dog in the streets. He's so captivated by the sparkle in your eye and how a dimple forms in your left cheek from smiling so hard.
"I was thinking, maybe this Saturday we could try for our date again," he says abruptly, cutting over the faint screams of Deluca in the background of your video.
You pause the video, tucking your phone back into your pocket as your face softens and you nod. "Yeah, I'd like that."
"I have a mission in Bethesda on Thursday, but it should be a quick turnover," he assures.
"From your mouth to God's ears, Leon Kennedy," you joke as he draws you back into a hug, and you feel his lips press to the top of your head. "Don't jinx yourself."
He jinxed himself. It's the only thing that comes to mind when you hear the news that his team, along with their target, Senator Eyre, were killed by explosives rigged to their vehicles. Remarkably, Leon managed to walk away relatively uninjured, or at least, that's what the report states.
He hasn't answered any of your texts or calls.
You try not to take it personally. You understand how this career can be—it's isolating, and most days, it's tough enough just to get out of bed. When something like this happens, though, it's devastating even for the most seasoned agents.
So you keep texting—sharing little updates, sending pictures of the sunset, your morning coffee, a bird hopping around on the sidewalk, just because it reminds you of him. You figure he hasn't told you to fuck off yet or blocked you, so maybe he's seeing them, or maybe he's not.
But you still want him to know you're thinking of him.
"Hi," a voice hesitantly calls out.
It jolts you, so focused on the screen in front of you that you didn't hear anyone sidle up next to your desk—and admittedly, you're running on barely any sleep after returning from a week-long mission in Vietnam.
You glance over at the blonde woman standing at your desk—she's young, and wearing a smile. Your gaze flicks down to her name badge—Sherry Birkin. "Hi," you greet back a bit awkwardly. You know the name—you're aware of her association with Leon, although it's only from official reports.
"I'm sorry, I know we haven't met before," she says as she extends her hand. "Sherry Birkin." The warmth in her demeanor makes it easy to respond kindly, so you take her hand to shake and offer your name, although you suspect she's already aware of who you are. "We share a common acquaintance—" She pauses. "Leon Kennedy."
Coldness washes over you as your stomach fills with dread. You turn in your chair to face her, giving the woman your full attention. "Is he okay?" you ask, voice shaking slightly as if you're anticipating the worst.
"I… think so," she says, uncertain. "He hasn't spoken to me—"
"—Hasn't spoken to me either," you interject, your expression mirroring her own dejection, though you suppose there's some solace in the fact he's not just ignoring you.
She frowns. "That's what I was afraid of," she murmurs to herself. "I may have… looked into it."
You quirk a brow. "Oh?"
She nods, leaning closer and talking in a hushed voice. "After he didn't answer my calls," she explains. "I… politely inquired with HR about his whereabouts—" You give her an amused look that signifies you definitely don't believe her. "—He's in Colorado, apparently he put in for an… extended vacation."
You're not sure what it is that swirls in your stomach—disappointment or maybe hurt, but your face falls. "Ah," you breathe out.
It's easy for Sherry to pick up on the sudden shift. "I just wanted to let you know," she says. "He… talked about you—a lot."
This information surprises you. "He did?" Your voice raises a pitch.
"He was really looking forward to your date… wouldn't shut up about it. I just—" She glances down, contemplating her next words. "—I want to ask you not to give up on him."
You're quiet for a moment as you observe her, seeing the way concern pools in her eyes. You don't know their relationship, but it's clear they're close, and she cares a great deal about him—you expect the opposite to be true as well. "I don't plan on it," you assure her.
A soft smile tugs at her lips. "Thank you," she says. "He's… he's gone through a lot, and I just worry."
"I get it," you tell her. "This job—this life… it takes a lot out of you."
You've faced more than your fair share of horrors and lost plenty of people along the way—you've fought your own demons and had to scrape and claw your way out of despair. Some days, it still feels like you're drowning in it—those are the days when you think it might be easier to just give in to the feeling.
Even before you befriended Leon, you knew who he was—of course, you did. One of the survivors of Raccoon City, the USSTRATCOM Agent who saved the President's daughter from the Los Iluminados nearly a decade ago. You can only imagine what he's seen—what he's had to do.
"Yeah," she agrees softly. "It does."
"I appreciate you letting me know," you say. "If—If you hear from him, could you let me know? Just so I know he's okay?"
"Of course." There's something so sincere about Sherry Birkin, you note. "It was nice to finally meet you—we should… get drinks or something sometime."
You smile. "Yeah, that'd be nice."
An incoming call from Leon lights up on your screen a week later. You're out on assignment—stateside, luckily, or rather unluckily, given the recent events that transpired. You answer the call immediately. "Hey," you greet casually, as if you're not perched atop a building, peering through the scope of your sniper rifle, phone cradled between your ear and shoulder.
"Hey," you hear him reply. He sounds tired, and there's a tug on your heartstrings.
"How was New York?" you question, eyes scanning through the scope as you track your target through the streets below—too many people around, you realize.
The question is enough to break the tension, and he gives a huff of laughter, though he sounds no less exhausted. "Not all it's cracked up to be," he answers. "Chris Redfield says 'hi', by the way."
You let out a disgusted noise at the mention of him. "I can't stand that man," you say bitterly.
The BSAA operator has been a thorn in your side for years, even before you started working for the DSO. His impulsive and stubborn disposition was the cause of most of your headaches when you first joined the FBI after leaving the army, thinking you'd left the world of military jugheads behind you—oh, how young and naive you were.
"He only had nice things to say about you," Leon muses, and you can tell from his tone that’s most definitely not true.
"Oh, I'm sure," you snort as you adjust your grip, keenly watching as your mark breaks from the crowded streets toward a more secluded area. "How did I even come up in conversation anyway?"
You hear him cough as if he had breathed in awkwardly. "I was… telling him about you."
"Oh?" you hum. "And just what were you telling him, Agent Kennedy?"
"Told him I had a date planned before everything went to shit… that I probably fucked it all up—"
You take the shot, and the man goes down like a sack of potatoes. "Target down," you say into your comms before giving the coordinates.
"—Are you on a mission right now?"
You begin to disassemble your rifle, quick and precise, as the clean-up crew no doubt makes their way onto the scene to take care of the body. "I was," you say. "It just ended." You press the clips on your gun case back into place with a firm click. "You didn't fuck anything up, by the way."
There's silence on the other end—you almost think you lost service as you enter the stairwell of the building through the roof access door you'd kept propped open until, "You free tomorrow?" he asks.
You smile, moving swiftly down the steps. "I'm sure I could pencil you in," you reply.
"I'll pick you up at 7," he says. "Get home safe, okay?"
When you reach the fire exit door at the bottom, you push through and find yourself in a side alley. "Good night, Leon," you say before hanging up, pulling your hood up as the police sirens start flooding the streets, and then you're gone, blending into the crowds.
He's at your door at 6:59 PM, and you're busy fastening an earring when you open it. The air leaves his lungs as he takes you in—seeing you in your black silk dress, hair done up, and a bit more makeup than you normally wear to the office.
You're busy giving him a once-over, you don't see the subtle shift in his expression, the way he closes himself off. "You clean up nice," you compliment as you finally get your earring in, fluffing your hair a bit more as you look in the mirror by your entrance.
"Thanks." He's quiet. "So do you."
"You ready to go?" you ask as you grab your purse.
"Yeah," he nods, and you lock your door behind you, offering him a smile that he doesn't return.
A frown forms as he begins to walk away—part of you expecting he would have offered his arm or hand. You try to shake off the uneasy feeling settling in your stomach, thinking maybe he's just nervous—you definitely are.
It only gets worse as the night progresses.
The car ride is mostly silent except for the low rumble of the local rock radio station — you try to ask a few questions, but are met with one-word, noncommittal answers that leave you feeling defeated before you even reach the restaurant. Every time you glance over at him, his eyes stay fixed on the road ahead, hands gripping the steering wheel so tightly that his knuckles turn white.
When you arrive at the restaurant, he maintains a respectful distance from you as you walk in, only doing the small courtesy of holding the door open for you. After you're finally seated at a small table, a candle burning low between you, hope flickers that now, face to face, he'll be more willing to talk as you both thank the hostess. "Any idea what you're going to get?" you ask.
"No," he answers, gaze focused solely on the menu in his hands.
"I was thinking—"
"Good evening," the waiter greets as he sidles up to your table, pouring water from a pitcher into the empty glasses in front of you. "Any drinks to start?"
"Just a glass of your Cabernet Sauvignon, please," you reply, and the waiter smiles at you before turning to Leon.
"Just the water is fine," he says, not even looking up at the man.
You see the waiter's brow twinge just slightly, and you give him an apologetic smile. "Thank you," you say weakly.
He inclines his head to you. "I'll be back with your wine," he assures.
Silence settles over the table. Surrounding you are other people—couples—talking and laughing together over their meals, and your heart tightens as you watch Leon from behind your menu. He hasn't even looked up at you once since you've sat down—probably has read the menu seven times by now.
"Do you know what you want?" Your voice is small—unsure and so unlike you that you can hardly believe it's your voice coming out of you, but now you're feeling like this whole situation has been a huge mistake that you've somehow pushed him into. There's a chasm forming in your chest, filling with dread.
"Yeah," he murmurs, though he doesn't set the menu down.
You gnaw at the inside of your cheek until you taste blood, mind desperately trying to find something—anything—to talk to him about that he hasn't already shut down in the car with his lackluster answers. "I met Sherry the other week," you decide on.
For the first time, his eyes briefly flick up to you. "She told me," he says.
"She's really sweet," you continue. "She… she seems really fond of you."
"I've known her since she was a kid," he answers in a way that doesn't invite any further comment.
You try to smile—try to come up with something else to say, but you're left floundering until the waiter returns with your glass of wine and takes your order. He must see the disappointment on your face because he offers you a sympathetic look as you tell him your order, while handing the menu back to him, and Leon does the same.
Without anything to focus on, he fidgets with the cloth napkin in front of him, expression impassive except for the clench in his jaw, as if he's grinding his teeth. You feel a familiar sting in your sinuses as you idly sip your wine, which is practically tasteless in your mouth, trying to stave off the tears gathering in the corners of your eyes.
With every second that passes, your heart pounds against your ears so loudly it feels like the world around you is muffled, though you're keenly aware of your own breathing. A thin sheen of sweat forms on your skin even though you feel completely freezing. The dress you were so excited to wear now feels suffocating, as you've become hyperaware of all the parts of your body that it fits too tightly on.
Abruptly, you set your glass down and say, "Excuse me, I'm going to go to the bathroom."
You don't give him a chance to say anything with how quickly you get up, though you doubt he would have anyway. Once inside the safety of the bathroom, you find yourself staring at your reflection in the mirror, taking a inhaling deeply to hold back the tears welling in your eyes. Your chest feels like it's caving in, and you're now sure that you've somehow misunderstood the situation between you and Leon.
It's making you feel crazy.
You exhale shakily, grabbing your phone to scroll through your message thread with him, searching for any sign that he wasn't as interested as you initially thought. It only makes his current behavior even more confusing. You try to recall every single interaction you've had, where he was the one to reach out to you, and you can't understand this sudden coldness.
There's a second when you consider calling Sherry to see if she might have any insight into why he's acting this way, but it feels wrong to involve her in whatever is going on, especially since she was the one who told you how excited he had been about the date. Instead, you tuck your phone back into your purse and try to breathe steadily as you turn the faucet on.
As you pump some of the fancy-smelling soap into your hands, you start to scrub your skin, your mind spinning in circles. Maybe while he was away, he realized he didn't like you as much as he thought, and this dinner was meant to let you down easy. Or maybe he met someone else and doesn't know how to tell you.
Every single reason that comes to mind only causes anger to grow inside you because there's no excuse for him to treat you so coldly. You at least believed you were good enough friends for him to be honest with you.
When you think you've rubbed your skin raw, you shut off the water and violently grab the paper towels to dry your hands. Your walk back to the table is more dignified, the tears gone from your eyes, replaced by a quiet fury.
You see that your food was brought out while you were gone, and Leon is slowly picking at his plate. As you sit down, you grab your wine glass, knowing you might need the extra bit of courage for whatever is to come, and down the rest of it in one gulp. "Food good?" you ask as you wipe at the corners of your lips.
He gives an indecisive shrug, and that's your breaking point.
"What is going on?" you question, low, but firm.
He must hear the anger in your voice because he actually looks up at you, expression feigning confusion as if he doesn't know where your unexpected question is coming from. "We're… having dinner?" he offers.
"You've barely spoken to me all night," you say, voice rising slightly as you swallow the lump in your throat, feeling the hot sting of scorned fury prickling under your skin.
"We've… talked," he tries to assert, though you can tell even he doesn't believe his own words.
You cock your head, staring at him like he's the stupid one. "Are you serious?" You twist the napkin in your lap so hard you think you might tear through the fabric. "Do you even like me, Leon?"
He seems taken aback, recoiling away from you as if you struck him, and his eyes drop to the table between you, but he stays silent, which is more than enough of an answer for you. Swiftly, you push your chair back, toss your napkin onto your untouched food, and grab your purse.
"Wait, where are you going?" he calls out, but for the first time tonight, you're the one ignoring him as you march out of the restaurant, unconcerned with the curious stares that follow you, intending to walk down the street before you realize he'd driven you here.
You huff in frustration, pulling out your phone to find a number for a taxi service, but your anger has shifted to sadness, and tears cloud your view, making it impossible to read the screen. You hear him call out your name, and you let out an exasperated noise as you begin to walk further down the street away from him.
Hurried footsteps approach you, and you feel hands gripping your shoulders, stopping you in your tracks. You finally realize how cold the night air is when you feel the warmth of his body behind you. "What are you doing?" he asks, confused.
"Calling a cab," you manage to say, though your throat constricts as you try to pull away from him to no avail. Embarrassment wraps around you as your voice breaks, despising how pathetic you sound.
"Hey," he murmurs tenderly, with more care than he's shown you all night, as he circles around to face you, hands gripping the exposed skin of your upper arms. "No, if you—if you want to go home, let me drive you."
"Why?" you spit out. "So you can ignore me some more?" It should feel childish to say that, and maybe tomorrow you'll think differently, but right now your feelings are hurt, and you just want to go home.
He shakes his head. "No, c'mon," he urges, trying to get you to look at him, but you're stubbornly refusing, settling to stare at the repeating pattern on his tie—you'd thought it was cute that he'd worn a tie on your date. "I'm sorry, okay?"
"If you didn't like me, you could have just said so from the start instead of pretend—"
"I do like you," he interrupts like he's desperate to get you to understand.
Sharply, your eyes snap up to him, and his face falls when he sees the tears that are beginning to streak down your cheeks. "You're sure not acting like it tonight," you argue. "I thought I was going crazy—that I… that I just missed some sign that you didn't feel the same about me."
"You didn't miss anything," he says. "I'm just… I'm an idiot who is terrible at this."
You give him a look of disbelief, nostrils flaring. "At what? Conversation? Yeah, I'd say so after tonight's performance."
He winces even though he knows he deserves that scathing remark. "No—I mean, well, yes, apparently. It's just… being vulnerable, and… letting myself look forward to something," he explains. "Everything just kept going wrong, and you're just… so understanding even after I fell off the face of the earth for weeks."
"You went through something traumatic, Leon," you murmur, arms crossing and gaze settling on the lampost just over his shoulder.
"See?'' he says, gesturing toward you. ''You're… you're so put together, and I'm a mess.'' Your eyes jerk back up to him, and you see the defeat in his eyes, like he thinks he doesn't deserve the kindness you've shown him. It makes the tightness in your face soften, hands falling to your sides, abandoning your defensive posturing. ''You opened the door tonight, and I realized you're something I don't ever want to ruin, and I'm so afraid I'm going to do that.''
"Do you think I'm not a mess, Leon?" you question with a humorless chuckle. "You don't get into this business without having more than a few skeletons in your closet. Some people are just better at hiding theirs than others."
His brows come together. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make it sound like you don't understand what I'm going through."
"I was worried for you," you admit, reaching out and tugging him closer by his tie to bridge the gap between you. "You can't just… disappear to Colorado to get shitfaced. It's not healthy—and I…" You pause. "I felt sad for you, but you can't just keep it bottled up. You need to talk to someone—me, Sherry, or hell, even Chris fucking Redfield."
He lets out a laugh. "Yeah," he nods, staring down at you fondly. "You're right."
"I know I'm right," you say sharper than you mean to, but you take a deep breath to calm yourself. "I'm not asking you to be perfect. I just… I really like you, Leon, and you hurt my feelings tonight."
"I know," he exhales as he reaches up to cup your jaw. "I'm sorry, I'm such an idiot."
"And you're not going to ruin me," you say. "I'm built pretty sturdy. I just need you to be willing to communicate with me."
A small smile forms on his face. "Okay," he agrees softly.
You feel lighter, most of the anger and sadness of the night washing away. "Okay," you repeat back, tender and pliant as your thumb rubs at the fabric of his tie.
"I really like you, too," he says. "Probably more than is appropriate."
At the confession, you simper, head tilting into his touch as you gaze up at him from beneath your lashes. "Is that so?" you ask.
"Mhm," he confirms, thumb brushing up against your cheek. "And now I keep thinking about what you told me about the dress."
Confusion tints your expression. "What about the dress?"
"About what's underneath." You can see his pupils blown wide as his hand slips to your waist, pulling you closer to him.
"Would you like to find out?" His fingertips dig into your hip at the question, breath hitching in his throat. "I could think of a few things that would turn this night around."
He's leaning closer, like he's caught in your orbit. "What would that be?"
You think it must be the glass of wine finally kicking in as you say, "I might be inclined to forgive you depending on how many times you can make me cum."
The muscle in his jaw flexes as he clenches his teeth. You can see his Adam's apple bob as he swallows thickly. "How many times for me to repent?" he asks.
You pretend to think, gaze flicking up to the dark sky above as you hum. "Maybe I'll consider it after two."
He exhales a shuddering sigh. "C'mon," he says, wrapping an arm around your shoulder as he leads you toward where he parked his car. A perfect gentleman now, he opens the door for you, ensuring you're settled into the passenger seat before closing it and rounding to the driver's side.
His hand stays on your thigh throughout the drive—firm and steady. The closer he gets to your apartment, the tighter his grip on your thigh becomes—anticipation coiling inside of him. You're no better, the heat of desire scorching through your veins, though a small part of you wants to make him suffer just a little, so you diligently keep your hands to yourself.
If he pulls into the parking spot a little crooked, you don't comment on it as he cuts the engine before sending you a warning look when you go to open the door. With more patience than you probably should have at this point, you wait for him to open the door for you, grabbing his outstretched hand and letting him haul you out of the car.
He holds you to his side as you walk into your apartment building, and once you're inside the elevator, he's behind you, arms wrapped around your waist as he kisses into your neck, leaving you a giggling mess.
"This is the slowest elevator ever," he complains gruffly into the bare skin of your shoulder just as it dings, signaling your arrival on your floor.
You already have your keys in your hand, knowing that if you take too long to open your door, he might just break it down. He's quick to usher you into the apartment once you've gotten the door open, closing it behind him.
In one swift motion, your back is pressed to the door, and before he closes the distance between the two of you, he questions, "This is okay, right?"
You nod hastily, breathing out a soft 'yeah', and then there's just the warmth of his lips against yours. Your heart feels like it's about to burst out of your ribcage as he deepens the kiss, a noise of contentment resonating from his throat as he runs his hands up your sides. Your own trail up his chest coming to rest at the base of his skull, curling your fingers through his hair to draw him even closer.
His mouth is hot against yours, growing braver with each passing second as his tongue licks against your bottom lip before he nips it gently, drawing a gasp from you. He's grinning as he pulls back to look at your flushed cheeks, adoration heavy in his gaze. "Leon," you pant out, eyes half-lidded and want swelling in you.
"Turn around." He doesn't give you the chance to, as he manhandles you into position, the coolness of your door against your cheek as you brace yourself with the palms of your hands. As he rucks up your dress, you hear the sharp inhale as he pulls it over your ass. "Fuck," he practically groans, hands kneading the globes of your ass, spreading them just enough to see the glistening slick of your bare pussy from behind. "You weren't lying."
"Did you think I was?" you ask, breathless from the way the cool air hits your hot core.
"Didn't want to get my hopes up," he admits as he kicks a leg in between yours, forcing your legs apart before sliding a hand down to rub at your cunt. Moaning, you arch your back against his touch, a shiver running through you as he brushes against your clit. "God, you're so wet."
You close your eyes, focusing on the slide of his fingers against you, coating his fingers in your juices. His nose jams into the crook of your neck as he plunges a singular finger into you, lips pressing against the quickening pulse in your neck.
"All this for me?" he murmurs, as his other hand slips one of your dress straps off your shoulder, palming one of your breasts with a satisfied noise, before adding a second finger just as he tweaks your nipple, relishing in the way you gasp, arching back into him.
You're nodding your head to his answer, gasping out a 'yes' as you turn to lay your forehead against your door to cool off the fevered temperature of your skin, though it does nothing for the rest of your body, which feels like it's on fire.
"Can't wait to taste you," he murmurs lowly into your ear, sending goosebumps trailing up your spine. "Need you to cum on my fingers first though." The hand on your breast trails down your front, the pads of his fingers catching onto your clit and circling it in slow, purposeful patterns. "Can you do that for me, sweetheart?"
"Yeah," you moan, fingernails scraping against the wood, trying to find purchase on anything as the coil in your stomach tightens with every precise swipe of his fingers. You feel it in your toes, head dizzy as he whispers words of encouragement into your ear, pressing soft kisses into your jawline so sweetly like he's not knuckle deep in your pussy with your slick dripping down his wrist. "Leon, oh—"
He can feel the way you clench around his fingers as you teeter over the edge, gasping out his name in a way that makes him strain painfully against his pants. "That's it," he says, talking you through it. "Sound so pretty when you cum, know that?"
Your moans pitch higher as he continues to pump his fingers in and out of you, ensuring you're thoroughly worked through your orgasm before finally withdrawing them. The steady presence of his body behind yours is the only thing keeping you upright as your legs feel like they might give out beneath you at any moment. His hands grip your waist as his lips press to your temple.
"Where's your bedroom?" he asks quietly.
You vaguely gesture over your shoulder toward the hall. "First door on the left," you manage to say as you think you're finally regaining feeling in your lower limbs, and then you're being hauled up with a surprised squeak, your hands coming up to grab Leon around his neck as if he would drop you.
"Told you I could carry you," he grins as he heads toward your bedroom.
"Mm, yes," you murmur, a renewed desire pooling in your cunt at the display—not that you would ever admit that to him aloud. "Glad those muscles aren't just for aesthetics."
He laughs as he carefully navigates through the doorway of your bedroom, then haphazardly throws you onto the bed while tugging at his tie, loosening it just enough to undo the top two buttons on his shirt before grabbing your ankles and dragging you until your backside hits the edge of the bed.
"Leon—"
"Told you I wanted to taste you," he interrupts as he kneels in front of you like you're a sacrament he's about to receive. His fingers bore into the plush flesh of your thighs as he spreads you open for him, your dress gathering up at your hips, leaving you bare before him. "Fuck, you're so pretty." His voice is practically a whimper as he fights the temptation to palm himself through his slacks, mouth watering at the way your cunt glistens in the dim light of the moon that filters through the sheer curtains on your window.
He leans down, gently kissing your inner thigh before nipping at the tender skin, taking pleasure in the sharp gasp that escapes above him. Trailing his lips up until his breath fans against your pussy, and your chest blooms with suspense, the anticipation of his hot mouth against you consumes your thoughts. His eyes flick up to meet yours as you're propped up on your elbows, staring down at him through half-lidded eyes. Your breasts spill out of your dress, heaving. "You waiting for an invitation or—"
His tongue licks a wide stripe up your center, your words getting caught in your throat as you moan. He doesn't tease; instead, he dives in as if he intends to devour you, eyes staying focused upward, watching as your head tilts back. One hand grasps desperately at the comforter beneath you, while the other instinctively finds purchase at the back of his head, fingers weaving through his hair in an unrelenting grip that sends a wave of searing thrill straight to his cock.
The noises are obscene as he eats you out, his own spit mixing with your slick, dripping down his chin. The sting of you tugging at his hair only drives him, paired with your hitched moans, and the way you gasp out 'fuck, Leon' when he sucks at your clit just right. He's savoring the taste of you, swallowing you down with every flat press of his tongue against you, moaning into your pussy as your scent envelopes him.
While one hand stays firmly on your thigh, feeling the way your muscles tense with every swipe of his tongue, he uses the other to thrust two fingers into you in a way that makes your eyes roll back in your head, your head lolling. No longer able to hold yourself up, you collapse onto your bed. He doubles his efforts, crooking his fingers to make your toes curl as your orgasm rapidly approaches.
He's steady in his administration, keenly listening to every one of your reactions to every flick of his tongue, and thrust of his hand, deciphering precisely what you like in record time.
"Leon, I'm—"
That's all the warning he gets as your thighs clench around his head, fingernails biting into his scalp as you thrust your hips up against his face, and he only groans, not caring when he finds he can't breathe, and his eyesight gets spotty, all noise muffling around him in favor of the sweet pressure of your thighs crushing him.
As the final waves of your second orgasm crash over you, your legs fall open as you pant heavily, the world sounding like you're swimming in a fishbowl, a thin layer of sweat covering your skin. Leon is no better, cheek resting against your inner thigh as he catches his breath, pressing one last kiss to your cunt before crawling up to you and gently laying a kiss on your lips. You return it with much more enthusiasm, grabbing him by the collar of his shirt and mashing your mouths together, not caring that his is covered in the taste of you.
He licks into your open mouth, before pulling back just slightly, leaving a trail of spit between you. "That was two," he murmurs against your mouth. "How am I doing?"
"Exceptional," you sigh out. "I'm almost inclined to say all is forgiven."
He grins; it's far too endearing when he has your slick glossing his chin. "What else does a guy gotta do to earn your forgiveness?"
You press a hand to his chest, and he moves away willingly until he's sitting at the edge of the bed, watching with curious eyes as you stand before kneeling between his legs, which spread to accommodate you.
His breath stutters as he exhales your name. "What're you doing?"
"Sucking your cock," you say as you begin to undo his belt.
"Oh," he says rather lamely. "This is supposed to be about you—"
"Well, I want to suck your cock," you reaffirm, gazing up at him. "You gonna stop me?"
"God, no," he says as his hands scramble to join yours, undoing his pants and adjusting so he can pull them down. You're met with the pretty sight of his cock bobbing in front of your face, and you wrap your hand around him. He's painfully hard, tip reddened and leaking with precum—the weight of him in your palm makes your pussy clench around nothing, and as you give him an experimental stroke, he gasps.
You bite your lip to hold back a smile, slowly moving your hand up and down, spreading the precum along the shaft, appreciating how you can see the muscles in his lower abdomen tighten as he pulls up his shirt out of your way.
Tentatively, you lean down, licking the fat tip of his cock, and he whines out a 'fuck' as he gathers your hair up into his fist, keeping it out of your way as you open your mouth to take more of him in. Carefully, you bob your head up and down, taking more and more of him into your mouth until he hits the back of your throat. Letting your jaw hang open, you will yourself to relax while he tries to restrain the way he wants to cant his hips up to gag you on his cock.
"You're so good," he groans. "Fuck, you're so good for me."
You can feel the way you're dripping down your thighs at his words as you hollow your cheeks and suck in a way that makes his vision go white while your one hand works the rest of his shaft that you can't fit into your mouth. Drool pools out of the corners of your lips, and you moan around his cock as you shove your other hand in between your own thighs, plunging your fingers into your cunt, though after being stuffed full of Leon's, it hardly compares, and you're only left aching.
The sight of you in between his legs, fingering yourself while you're sucking his cock makes his control falter. His fingers curl around the back of your head, forcing you further down onto his cock in a way that makes you gag, tears gathering in the corners of your eyes, but it doesn't deter either of you as you try to swallow around his cock, the sensation causing his breath to catch in his throat. "Fuck, fuck," he whines, and he can feel his balls tightening, his own orgasm quickly about to settle over him.
Hastily, he yanks you off him, panting heavily as he tries to rein himself in. You wipe the corners of your mouth, blinking back the tears that had gathered from how deep in your throat he'd been. "You okay?" you ask.
"Almost came," he admits.
You give a huff of hoarse laughter. "Yeah, that's the point, Leon."
He shakes his head, grabs you, guiding you back on your feet, so you're standing between his legs. He gathers your dress, pulling it up and over your head, leaving you standing naked in front of him. "I'll cum down your throat another time," he says as he allows you to completely undo his tie, tossing it somewhere in your room before you start to unbutton his shirt the rest of the way. His fingers wander up your bare skin, indenting into the plushness of your curves. "Wanna cum in you first."
You grin as he palms your breasts, something like satisfaction in his expression at the weight of them in his hands, while you settle yourself into his lap, his cock pressed between the two of you as you bend down to kiss him. "Awfully bold of you," you murmur.
His hands reach down, grabbing the globes of your ass and pulling you further against him, grinding the shaft of his cock against your pussy. "Name your price, sweetheart," he whispers. "I'll do whatever you want, just wanna be dripping out of you by the end of it."
"How about—" You lift up, grabbing his cock with one hand as you usher him toward your entrance. "—You be a good boy and let me ride you, and once I cum again, I'll let you cum inside, okay?"
He's nodding eagerly, the words 'good boy' coming from your mouth instantly making him compliant. His eyes roll to the back of his head as his tip slips into you; the wet, tight heat of your cunt would probably make him agree to anything you request at this point. "Whatever you want," he repeats in a desperate whimper, fingertips digging into your waist—it would no doubt leave bruises in the morning—as you slide down his cock in one fluid motion that knocks the wind out of both of you.
"Leon," you moan, and his head drops forward, pressing his forehead against your shoulder as you start to rock your hips back and forth in a delicious cadence.
"God, you're so tight," he grits out, mouth biting at the delicate skin at the crook of your neck, intending to leave his mark on you. "Been thinking about this for so long."
"Yeah?" you murmur. "Spend a lot of time thinking about me bouncing up and down on your cock, Agent Kennedy?"
He groans. "You're the reason half of my reports are late."
Your hand rises, lightly pressing against the base of his throat, and when you hear his sharp inhale, you increase the pressure slightly. "Poor Agent Kennedy," you lament sarcastically. "How will you ever cope?"
He lets out a shuddered sigh as the rhythm you've set begins to build him back to the precipice. Lips press to your shoulder before his teeth dig in; his bruising grip is constant, but not unpleasant—the painful sting is just enough to make your cunt flutter around him.
Closing his eyes, he tries to stave off his release; the need to please you is far greater than his need to cum. "Hopefully buried deep in this pussy," he answers before opening them to look at you once more.
You grin, it's devastating and vicious, hips canting faster as the muscles in your thighs burn, but it only adds to the pleasure pooling in your core. You grab one of his hands that has a death grip on your hip, wrenching it from you to bring it up to your mouth, tongue flicking out against his thumb before your lips wrap around it, and he is enraptured by the sight, cock twitching inside of you as his gaze grows hazy.
"Fuck," he whines, watching you coat his thumb with your spit.
"Make me cum," you order as you guide his hand down to your pussy, and he follows your lead, thumb finding your swollen clit to begin tracing slow circles against it. He sees the way your eyes briefly close at the sensation, your hips stuttering just a bit before you continue to ride him in earnest, every sweet drag of his cock in your pussy driving you closer and closer to the end.
"C'mon," he nearly begs, trying to compel you toward completion, not knowing how much longer he himself can hold out. "Cum for me, sweetheart, c'mon," he says.
With one last swipe against your clit, you feel yourself fall over the edge as you grind down on him. "Shit, shit, shit," you moan as your thighs shake, movement coming to a shuddering halt as pins and needles start to prick all throughout your body. Leon feels the gush of your liquid release around his cock, and that's all it takes for him to have you on your back in the next instant.
He's pounding into you now with reckless abandon, the slap of your skin against his paired with the sound of his cock bullying into your sopping wet pussy is intoxicating. He gives you no time to recover from your orgasm, enjoying the way the overstimulated tears streak down your flushed face before his eyes focus on the way your breasts bounce up and down with each hard thrust.
"Gonna let me cum in you now?" he asks breathlessly as he cages you between his arms, muscles tense from the strain.
You're holding onto his shoulders, gasping with each hard thrust into you, still bleary-eyed from your last orgasm, nails biting into his skin, digging crescent divots into him, but nodding desperately. "Want your cum," you keen. "Please, Leon."
"Fuck." His hips snap into yours as he sinks his head into the crook of your neck, moaning out your name as he cums, burying his seed deep inside of you. You can feel the warmth of it, the twitching of his cock as he empties into you, and you clench around him, listening to him whimper into your ear. He continues thrusting until he's sure he's filled you.
You're both gasping for air as the aftershocks of your orgasms subside, and Leon pulls away just slightly to press a kiss to your lips, tenderly cupping your jaw.
"Was that okay?" he questions, panting heavily.
You laugh, and it makes him smile. "Five stars," you say, giving a weak thumbs up, your entire body shaking.
He chuckles against your cheek, kissing up the side of your face to your temple. "Where's your bathroom?" he asks.
"Across the hall," you answer.
He's careful as he pulls out of you, gently massaging your hips when you wince. "You okay?"
"We're going to be putting your ability to carry me to the test tomorrow," you say. "I don't think I'm going to be able to walk."
He rolls his eyes, but there's a fond grin on his face as he makes his way to the bathroom. He comes back a few minutes later with a warm, wet washcloth, and the care he takes in cleaning you up almost brings you to tears. You mutter a soft 'thank you' as he tucks you both into bed, his arm wrapping around your waist and pulling you into him.
The lull of sleep settles over you rather quickly, and you're barely awake, listening to the steadiness of Leon's breathing behind you as his thumb traces circles onto your hip. "You're forgiven," you murmur into your pillow, unsure if he's still awake or not.
He holds you tighter in response.
The next morning, you're both cuddled up on your couch, watching reruns of your crappy reality TV show, sharing a plate of slightly burnt pancakes, and enjoying your morning coffee… or well, tea for you.
"Why didn't you tell me you preferred tea?" Leon asked as he watched you prepare your beverage.
You only grinned sheepishly and shrugged. "I don't mind coffee, plus… I enjoyed seeing what you thought I might like."
"So, why is she mad at Gino?" he questions as he tries to follow along with the drama.
As you're busy explaining the intricate dynamic of the couple on the screen between bites of breakfast, his phone pings, and you both instinctively look down at it. That's when you notice the lockscreen—it's a picture you'd sent him a few weeks ago of a cute sidewalk mural you found, with the shadow of your figure cast over the ground, holding up a peace sign.
"Is that my photo?" you question, already knowing the answer.
"Uh," he stutters, embarrassed. "Yeah."
You blink, processing the information. "I wasn't sure you were looking at those," you admit.
"I was," he says before opening the gallery on his phone. "I saved them all."
You're unsure why tears form in your eyes upon seeing a folder in his phone; no actual name, just a small coffee cup emoji as the label, and when he opens it, you notice every single picture you've sent him safely stored inside.
When he hears you sniffle, he stares at you, startled. "Wait, why are you crying?"
"That's just so nice!" you blubber, nearly sending the plate of pancakes flying as you quickly reach up to brush away the tears.
Laughing softly, he carefully takes the plate away from you and sets it aside, wrapping you in his arms and pressing a kiss to the crown of your head.
Pairings: Desire of the Endless x vampire!Reader
Word Count: 10.5k word
Warnings: NSFW, smut, death of unimportant character, blood sucking, oral (f!receiving), fingering, praise, p in v sex, multilple orgasms, slight dacryphilia, desire being fucking sexy...
A/N: I think this got deleted somehow so I'm reposting it. This was my first Desire fic so I hope you still like it, lol.
This night reminds you of that one song. That song that goes on and on and on and on.
You have the whole setup. The singer in a smokey room sings her song on a tiny stage for a crowd of people who really aren't paying attention to her. The smell in the air isn't necessarily wine, but there is plenty of beer and whiskey and perfume, all of which are the cheap brands no one cares for but also don't care enough to be picky about. The smell is thick in the air. The murkiness aggravates you and clings uncomfortably to your skin, but you've dealt with worse enough not to care.
You have hunted better crowds, but you aren't really looking for hundreds of bodies at a festival too preoccupied to notice one or two missing people, nor are you looking for a frivolous venue where people are too rich for others to miss. It's not a great bar, but it's nice enough and big enough that people don't mind coming for a drink or two. There are tons of people tonight. Everything is half-off, and they'd rather pay less for more of the cheap, crappy booze than more for the expensive stuff.
It's late. There's a get-together occupying a couple of booths at one end of the room, a few people lining the seats of the bar, and more clusters occupying any empty spaces left. As the singer starts a new, more energized song, a small mass of people flock to the open space to dance. Most of it is drunk dancing, the kind with swaying hips and lidded eyes and waving hands.
You've been here for a few hours, tucked away in your booth with a drink in front of you that you haven't really touched. One of the bartenders, Carlos, knows you and always gives you half-off drinks because you come often and hardly order. He knows you like to pick up hot dates, sometimes you take them home and other times you sit and talk until one of you leaves—and on the occasion that you take someone home and he never sees them again, he’s smart enough not to question anything and be happy that there’s one less asshole for him to serve. He glances at you across the bar, giving a thumbs up to ask if you're okay. You nod back, smiling gently before turning your attention away again toward a couple sitting across the bar.
She's tucked under his arm, smiling wide as she cradles her drink in both hands. He smiles back at her, his hand on her arm rubbing circles. He's cheating on her. Just ten minutes before, after he'd told her he needed to use the restroom, you saw him down the hall with some other girl against the wall. She was also smiling and giggling, his arm above her and closing her in. He gave her his number before he left to his original girl.
You shake your head and turn away.
There's a woman sitting at the bar. She has been sitting there for a while, her phone in her hands as she types away at what you're assuming is a heated conversation. Her brows are furrowed, full of tension. She's slouched over her phone, her elbows on the counter and her knuckles clenched.
Your eyes flicker over when movement catches your attention. You glance over at a man approaching her, a smile on his face as he grows nearer.
"Hey," he says, leaning on his elbow next to her and eyeing her up and down, sizing her up like a predator does its prey. She looks up, bringing her glass closer to her and discreetly setting her palm over it.
“Yes?” she responds, shifting away from him.
“I saw you across the room,” he says, shrugging a shoulder. She shifts uncomfortably at his closeness, moving away from him as much as she could without standing. “You look lonely.”
She glances briefly around her. “I’m actually waiting for someone,” she lies, looking around again as if to solidify her words.
He shrugs again, easing a step closer. “Yeah? Why don’t I keep you company while you wait, huh?” You’ve already moved to your feet, walking over toward the pair, the short heel of your shoes clicking dully on the wooden floor and becoming a rhythm in the back of your brain that echoes there like a silent warning.
“I’m okay,” she says, ready to stand and leave now.
“I insist.”
You come up to the bar, leaning over it and looking for Carlos with a smile. “Hey, can I get a refill, please?” Carlos spots you and nods, his own smile on his lips as he grabs a bottle and heads toward you.
The man looks at you, his attention shifting as he eyes your little black dress. His smirk widens and he looks at the girl. “S’cuse me, sweetheart.” As he makes his way over to you, fixing his hair as he does, you look away and pretend not to notice.
Your eyes scan the bar briefly, looking for no one in particular as they do. As you’re bringing your focus back around, you suddenly stop as a vision of white catches your eyes. There, tucked away in a dark corner of the room but somehow glowing like an enchanted treasure, is a person you had yet to notice.
White hair is combed and styled away from a pale face, whose blood red lips hide white teeth. Golden eyes watch you, staring into your soul as they glow and flicker with mischief and temptation. You’re stuck, gazing at such a charming creature as those red painted lips curl in an alluring grin.
“Why don’t I buy you a drink?”
Your attention is swiftly taken again as you look back at the real reason you had come over here. “Oh,” you mumble, glancing back over your shoulder at the figure who had disappeared, as though they had never existed to begin with. You look back at the man, shaking your head gently and letting a smile take your lips again as you refocus. “Uh, yeah. I’d love that.”
The woman glances at you, her eyes both relieved for herself and worried about you. As your eyes meet, your smile softens and you give her a wink. You watch her lips shift, a tiny smile making its way to her own lips as she takes your response with gratitude. She flags down Carlos and pays for her drink before she gathers her things and leaves before the guy notices her again. She mouths a “thank you” to you as she does.
You almost tense as his hand lands on the small of your back, his thumb stroking you there as he leans in some more. You look up at him over your shoulder, offering him a reflection of the smirk on his face as you turn your body to face him. You lean in closer, your hand on his chest as you take him in. As you size him up. The apex predator to prey higher up the food chain. “We can skip the drink if you want…” You lower your voice to a smooth seduction, tapping your fingers against his chest and looking at him through your lashes. You nearly whisper, “I think we can have a little more fun if we get out of here. How does that sound?”
He chuckles darkly. “Like music to my ears.”
You move out of his grip as you wave to Carlos and saunter toward the door. He follows after you, holding a hand out as he sets it on your hip. You glance over your shoulder as you walk, continuing to beckon him as you both step out into the slight chill of the night, surrounding you in a darkness that’s only dangerous for one of you.
~
You listen to the slowing of a dying heart, rapid thumps reduced to faint rattles against a weak chest. The blood coursing through his veins slowly diminishes, coming in smaller gulps than before as you take your fill, quenching your thirst for as long as his bittersweet taste will hold you.
The fight left a long time ago—and you let him fight. He wasn't very strong.
You pull away from his throat with a long sigh, your head lolling back as the sharp canines in your gums retract to an unassuming point. You hum, looking down at his lifeless face before dropping him carelessly to the dirty stone ground.
You shudder, wiping the blood from the corner of your mouth with a drunken grin.
"Psst."
You tilt your chin toward your shoulder, stilling completely to listen to the unmoving air around you. You wait, slowly shifting your chin to the other side as your eyes scan the space you can see without turning around.
“Hello, dear…”
That voice. It melts on your skin like caramel, warm and smooth and rich. It’s got a rasp to it that rolls in your chest, echoes off your bones like footsteps on a marble floor.
You hum gently, turning around as you look around for the disembodied voice. You raise a brow, “Hello.” Cracking a small grin, you place your hands in your pockets and sigh. “Come on out. Don’t be shy,” you beckon. “I’m not gonna hurt you.” Your tone is akin to comforting a frightened animal to your arms, the added taunt a whisper in your words.
But it seems they’ve got some taunts of their own.
“Oh, I’m well aware.”
You chuckle lightly, doing one more small circle around yourself to ensure whoever is watching knows just how amused you are by the theatrics. “Then why are you still whispering from the shadows?” you wonder aloud.
A chuckle rolls out of them, a deep, throaty sound that sinks into your flesh. The sound of footsteps reverberates along the dark walls of the buildings surrounding the two of you. The echoed laugh which once bounced off the space around you now focused on one spot as shadows became a silhouette of a person. As a silhouette became a person, you cast your eyes upon an enchanting being as you looked them up and down appreciatively.
They are wearing black, similarly to you—it just makes things easier on nights like these—and a deep red that pops against porcelain skin. A lacey red bustier is worn tight around their body, intricately designed like the expensive fabric of royals. Their slacks and floor length blazer are dark as night, accented with gold jewelry and heels—like the thick golden chain around their neck holding a heavy heart over their chest.
You tilt your head to the side. “You were at the bar.”
The face from the bar that had briefly distracted you from tonight’s prey smiled. “I was.”
You look them up and down again. “Who are you?” They tilt their head, inquiring more. You shrug, “You’re not human. You aren’t like me.” You straighten your back a little, your brows furrowing as a new solemnity sinks in, “Who are you?”
They smile wide, another chuckle slipping from them as they shake their head at you. Asking the wrong questions, it seems. “Who I am doesn’t really matter, dear,” they say in a voice warm and smokey, like the embers of a fire.
“Oh?” you hum. “Then what really matters, pray tell?”
“You.” Your breath stilled in your chest, though you said nothing. “The reason I'm here. I looked at you and I saw…” They make a face, one full of curiosity as they try to find a word that accurately describes what they mean to say, looking away as if the walls had the answer and waving a hand.
“What?” you encourage.
They breathe in deep, turning their gaze back upon you. Their smile widens again, full of mischief and…something else. “Longing,” they rasp. “So much longing.” They sigh, their hands finding their pockets once more and their head shaking slowly. A click of their heels marks another step toward you. “What is that I saw in you?”
A gentle shrug of your shoulders brushes off the question. “I’ve lived centuries,” you say. “There is plenty to ‘see in me’.”
They watch you like they’re unconvinced, looking you up and down with a skeptical gaze. “And yet…”
You sigh, shifting from one foot to the other as you regard them with a little more impatience than before. “What does it matter that I tell you?”
They laugh again, a little louder this time with that same bravado as before. “All this talk about what matters…” They wave a hand dismissively, rolling their eyes as they go before finding your gaze again and taking another step forward, “It doesn’t. The only difference between telling me or telling the wind is that the wind has no power.”
You raise a brow, “And you do?”
The pride that shines in their face as they smile, tilting their chin up just to look down on you. “Let’s just say…” they lean forward just enough to make the point, “I can give you what you want.”
Your eyes flicker away for a split of a second. “How?”
“Well, that depends.” They shrug a shoulder, still taking a couple more steps toward you, stalking like a predator as they slowly move closer and closer. Who the apex is in this situation, you're unsure now. “Tell me, dear… What is it you desire?” Their voice washes over you and warms you chest in a way that makes you shudder.
A war goes on between the very fibers of your being. The better half of you that doesn’t believe in these tricks is ready to feed on the luscious scent of their blood and be done with it, but that other part nagging you about what is and what can be is telling you to heed their words, if only with caution. You stand there, contemplating with yourself for what felt like hours but was only a few seconds.
If you entertain them a little while longer, it could end up changing your life forever or simply be another hour of your immortal soul ticked away into the past. There’s no real harm in it.
So you look them in the eye and play along, your answer as blunt as you can make it to get through this interaction as quickly as possible.
“Freedom.”
They tilt their head. “From what?”
“This. This life.” Something in you had you speaking before your brain could come up with a more logical, stoic answer. It’s as though the truth was being pulled from you, word by tantalizing word. Your hands leave your pockets and you’re the one stepping closer this time as you speak. “I want to be human again, feel human again,” you confess with only a little bit of the desperation you feel. You lick your lips, your tongue wandering to the fang hiding behind them. “I’ve been living like this for too long.”
They regard you, taking you in with a tilted chin and a calculating gaze. They hum, smiling gently. “Perhaps…” The smile falls and their head tilts back down, “but no.”
You shake your head, confusion seeping into your face. “No?”
“I can see your heart. I feel its warmth, its want, its need.” They step forward again, but this time their feet carry them in a path around you as they circle and speak, evaluating your body as if looking right through you. You don’t move, sighing and rolling your eyes as you stand there. Their scent swirls around you like the sweetest perfume, and you’re already starving again at the smell of it. “You want to feel human, but being human isn’t the same.”
They shake their head, biting their lower lip as they sigh. “No, you don’t want mortality. You want something so much harder to obtain. Something humans and gods alike can go entire lifetimes without having.”
You raise a brow, already tired of this conversation. “Which is?”
They stop in front of you, their smile almost a sneer by the way it condescends you, mocking you as though you could not rip them apart. “Love.”
You straighten your back a little more, not appreciating being read like this, having desires shown to you that you had locked away a long time ago. They are wrong. You don’t want that anymore, you’ve seen it too many times, felt it too many times. It’s always too good to last.
But they continued. “You want to love and to be loved. The most basic want of all life,” they shrug, glancing away like the prospect is so trivial, “and yet the most foolish.” They chuckle at that, the thought absurd.
You chuckle as well, though yours is filled with a little more irritation than amusement as you shake your head. You lick your bottom lip and direct a sneer of your own toward them. “Only a fool would hold out hope for love with what I’ve learned.”
They raise their brows, perking up in a cat-like fashion. “And what is that?”
You take your time answering. “Love is fleeting.” Silence fills the space between the two of you in the moments where you aren’t speaking. They watch intently, clinging to every word with a kind of delight and fascination that makes you huff. “It can be as cold as ice and as raging as fire. It can die out just as quick or," your lips almost curve in a fond smile, "live for decades.” You hesitate, looking away for a moment as you frown again.
“But it always ends. One way or another, everything ends.” There’s a kind of heartbreak in your voice that they have not heard in a very long time. It makes the delight in their chest dwindle to something a little more sober. Their eyes land on a necklace hanging over your chest, listening to you as they stare at the trinket. You shake your head from solemn thoughts. “I learned not to love a long time ago. Saves a lot of heartache.”
They look back up to your eyes where your gazes linger in the other’s. There’s a sort of understanding now, a moment where the both of you are no longer just non-human entities meeting and toying with the other, a moment where you’re finally on the same page.
They breathe in, breaking the silence with the most care. “And yet…” a pause to sigh, “your heart aches.”
You look away, clenching your jaw. Shaking your head, you turn back to them, your willingness to go along with this joke dwindling by the second. “Enough of this,” you say. “You cannot get me what I want, I have no use of you. But your blood…” You smile with teeth, allowing your fangs to protrude once more. “Well, your blood smells delicious.”
They almost look offended as they look at you, but not in the least bit afraid. They stand up straighter, chest puffing out a little more. “Who says I can't get you what you want?” They tilt their head to the side, raising a hand to their chest where their fingers brush the thick golden heart. “Do you know who I am?”
You shrug dismissively. “Someone’s wasting my time.” You breathe a humorless laugh. “Which is strange, as mine is so infinite at the moment.”
They shake their head, turning and walking away slowly, their head tilted toward their shoulder to speak to you. “Nothing is infinite. Nothing is endless.” They pause, looking at you fully with a taunting grin. “Except for me, of course.”
You freeze. The annoyance washes into fascination. Your eyes go wide and your lips part, but it’s a full-bodied reaction as you stare in wonder. “Endless…” you mutter, the silent suspicion you’d turned down as soon as it appeared coming back to the surface at the word, the revelation. “So you are. You’re an Endless.”
The delight has returned, pride and regality accompanying it. “You know me?”
“Of course, I do,” you reply. “You’re Desire.”
Their smile is the widest you’ve seen it, shining with a type of superiority that finally suits them with the new information pinned to their character. The stories are definitely true—they are the most alluring being you have ever laid eyes on. But not only that, the mischief and taunting surrounding their name through time also seem to have plenty of truth to it.
“Clever girl.” Their voice is deep with that smoky rasp. You nearly shudder again.
A new seriousness washed over you at another realization. “So you can give me what I want.”
“With a price, yes.” Their arms crossed over their chest in a delicate way, their head inclined upward as they regarded you. “Would you like to hear it?”
You take a moment to decide, scanning the face of this powerful entity. “They warn about making deals with Desire of the Endless.”
They raise a brow, a curious look glittering in their eyes. “Who?”
You scoff, “Anyone who’s ever heard of Desire of the Endless.”
Desire shrugs a shoulder, seemingly proud of the reputation they’ve built. “Well, ‘anyone’ would be correct.” They narrow their golden eyes, smirking, “But I have a feeling you don’t necessarily have much care for such things, do you?”
“Not necessarily,” you admit. You stare into their eyes, unwavering as you thought, trying to make a solid decision but still heeding the warnings and caution you’ve heard in reference to beings like these. “What do you want?” you asked.
They breathe in deep, looking you up and down as a mischievous grin widens red lips. Their lips part, beginning to find shape around their reply as they watch. “You.”
You hold your breath but do nothing else to give away the anticipation. You figured as much but you hadn’t cared enough to actually put belief into it as you spoke. The idea has your pulse jumping and your breath thinning. You hum, shrugging it off. “That’s all?”
They shrug as well. “What else is there for me to want?”
You raise a brow. “No agent of desire to bring you back wanting and wayward souls?”
They wave that off. “Oh, I have plenty of those.” Taking a step forward, their height becomes a little more apparent as your head tilts back slightly to hold eye contact. Their index finger comes to rest over their lips, curling back down to their chin.
Desire’s gaze was hot on your face, dragging over your body and filling you with more heat than even a fresh kill could provide. They evaluated you, your body, your face, the very essence of your soul, and you hate that you shudder under their scrutinization as they do. They shake their head, amused. “No, your body will do just fine.”
You swallow thickly. “And, if I do it. If I say yes…” your heart jumps at the idea, “you’ll make me human?”
They tilt their head. “No.” They walk past you, waving a hand as they begin a slow circle once more, still taking in every inch of your body with a warming appreciation. “Unfortunately, I do not have that power. But,” they smile again, breathing in as they stand in front of you once more, “I can give you what you crave more.”
You roll your eyes, beginning to turn away from them. “I don’t want–”
“I can give you someone to love.” You pause, your back turned as you become completely still. You feel as though your body is shaking as you stand there, refusing to face them as you cling to every saccharine word falling from their lips. “Someone whose life won’t be so fleeting and needlessly fragile. You’ll have love for them for as long as your soul has the potential to have it.”
You blink, looking down at the ground as you contemplate, letting the silence stretch between you. Your lips tingle as you part them to speak, though it takes a moment for the sounds to even breach your lips. “And…”
“And?”
You sigh silently. “Will…” You lick your lips, slowly turning on your heel to face them, taking a moment too long to meet their gaze. “Will they love me back?” Your voice is so quiet, so desperate for something that feels so unobtainable. You hate it but you ignore it for the sake of hope, of possibility.
A shoulder rises and sinks slowly. “Perhaps.”
“Perhaps?” It’s a possibility, at least.
They step forward, beginning to shorten the distance again. “I can promise you this… you will be happy.” The look in their eyes, for the first time all night, seemed to hold a dash of empathy as they watched you.
You swallow the smallest lump in your throat, glancing away. “But none of it would be real.”
“Who says?” Their brow furrows at your words. Desire shakes their head, “This love will not be made artificial, otherwise it would fail. I will simply…ignite what is already there, amplify it to outweigh doubt and petty apprehensions. This love will be as real as you or me, as real as the sun’s fire or the stars burning thousands of lightyears away.”
Their poetry clings to your bones, making you believe for a moment that Desire isn’t just a creature of lust but one of true love and affection. You watch, your breath shallow in your lungs, your throat tight, and your heart stuttering against your ribcage. As Desire stepped forward and into your space, your symptoms worsened. Their eyes never left yours.
“This love will be genuine, and it will last in its full intensity for as long as there is the smallest ember of need or want for it.” They raise a hand, a slender finger hooking under your chin and their thumb tenderly stroking the skin there. They tilt your head up, tugging gently on your bottom lip. “It is entirely up to your heart to decide.”
Your eyes glue to their own lips as yours tingled with a desire for more than these teasing touches. It takes a moment to find your voice again.
“Who is it?”
They smile wide. “Well, that spoils the fun, doesn’t it?”
You roll your eyes, still not daring to move in case they break away from you. “Do I know them, at least?”
They shrug. “In a manner of speaking.”
You sigh. “Do you ever give straight answers?”
Your worst fears come true when Desire breaks away from you, stepping away with a sigh and a raised brow. “Do you ever stop asking questions for me to give unclear answers to?”
You roll your eyes, catching your breath again. You need the oxygen to think, and you only just realized you were holding your breath. Desire waits patiently for you to decide.
You bite your bottom lip, feeling your heart thump. You peek up at them through your lashes, the look you give too vulnerable for your liking. “I will be happy?”
“The happiest.”
“Then…” you take in a deep, steadying breath and nod gently. “I accept.”
A smile splits their face in two as they look at you, pride and entertainment and something else filling their face to the brim as their tongue slips between their teeth to lick a sharp canine. They walk forward in strides, taking an arm around your waist and pulling you in as your breath hitches.
“Then let us begin.”
~
Lips and teeth and tongue clash together in some mad, lustful dance. Fingers tangle in hair and hands grasp at shirts and skin, desperate for the touch of intimacy—soft or rough, it did not matter. What matters is the skin on skin contact that had not yet been breached as Desire pushes you against the glossy, red walls of the Threshold.
Your hands have found their hair so many times, it's a disheveled mess. One of their hands travel up your side, cradling the side of your neck before rounding to the front to cup it, squeezing gently and making your lips part as you gasp. A chuckle borders on a growl as their teeth nip your bottom lip, trailing down to your jaw.
"Look at you," their voice is a deeper rasp in your ear, warming your body to an impossible temperature. "You're so hungry for my touch, aren't you?"
Your hands begin pulling off the long black coat until it pools on the ground, already gone from your mind. Their bare arms are revealed to you, smooth like the porcelain they reflect. You were reaching for their crimson belt before their hand grabs at you, a firm but gentle tug on your jaw as their fingers dig into your skin.
A sort of growl erupts from their throat as they smile down at you, “Answer me, my pet.”
You breathe a shallow breath as you nod, forced to look them in the eye and melt at the sight. “Yes,” you reply.
They devour you once more, lips to lips, chest to chest. Your hand wraps around their back, tangling in their hair once more. You tug back just enough to expose their neck, pressing your lips there as you kiss and nip and suck. It takes a lot not to sink your teeth into the awaiting flesh—or at least, not completely. You did bite down, unable to help yourself, but not enough to draw blood. A rough moan grumbles out of them at the sensation, bending down to pick you up and wrap your legs around them.
“Naughty girl,” they breathe in the middle of a heated kiss.
You bite their lip, smiling wide at their shuddered breaths. Without letting go, you grin deeply as you whisper, “I can be worse.”
“Oh,” they chuckle, the word almost a moan. “Promise?”
In the next moment, you’re falling backwards. Before you can try to catch yourself, your back lands on a plush mattress covered in silk and a multitude of pillows, red and black like just about everything else in this place. The bed was huge and round, you could fit ten people on it and still have room for more.
As you're looking around yourself, Desire’s lips find your neck again and you melt against them. You curse under your breath, drunk on the feeling as you gasp. Their hand slips underneath your shirt, going up, up, up until their palm cups your breast over your bra. You are shaken to your core when their hands claw around the bra and rip it from your body, tearing it off of you and tossing it away like trash.
They grope you underneath your dress, which is somehow hotter than if they had stripped you. You squeeze your eyes shut as you moan, but their voice next to your ear has you shivering at a command. “Open your eyes and look at me, sweetling.” You make yourself do as you’re told, breathing heavily as you do.
They hum deeply, watching you with an admiration and lust filled gaze that would have made you clench your thighs, had their body not been between them. “Beautiful,” they sigh.
They entwine their fingers with your own, pulling them above your head and pinning them there as they continue to watch you. It isn’t until you feel something fuzzy around your wrists and hear the faint but telling click of metal when you realize just what they had been up to.
You look up at the furry white cuffs around your wrists, chaining you to the bed and leaving you vulnerable. Their hands stroke your sides, smiling wide as they kiss your neck, knowing how much you love it, how much you melt and moan at the feeling of your throat being caressed and touched and bitten.
Their lips ghost over your jaw as they speak in a deep whisper. “Tell me to stop, and I will. Tell me to slow down, and I will. Tell me to keep going…” their smile widens, mischievous, dangerous, “and I just might.”
You watch them, your lungs hardly being utilized at this point. They raise a brow, “Understand?”
“Yes,” you whisper.
“I can’t hear you,” they say in a sing-songy voice.
“Yes, sire,” you say, louder this time as you feel your skin tingling.
“Good girl.”
This time it is a growl and your skin is no longer tingling, it’s on fire. You watch them travel down the column of your throat, reaching your clothed chest and taking the fabric between their teeth. Their hands find the neckline of your dress, grasping and ripping it down the middle with no regard for it. They smile in appreciation of your skin revealed to them.
“I liked that dress,” you mumble.
“Well, I like it more like this.” They dangle the fabric and drop it on the floor with a dashing smile. You roll your eyes, interrupted as lips press to the bare skin of your belly, leaving red lipstick behind. You think they did it on purpose, because only the single print of a pair of lips is tattooed on your belly, but no other marks are left after that one. Their tongue pokes out every now and then licking your skin, usually after their teeth have nipped you.
All of this teasing will be the end of you. Desire of the Endless knows how to pleasure, to bring you to the edge of lust with a few words, a few touches, a few kisses. They’ve given you all three, and you’re going to blow.
“Please,” you whisper, squirming underneath them.
Their face lights up at the sounds as they look at you, still caressing your skin as they do. “What was that?”
You sigh, “Please, Desire.” You bend your knees, spreading your legs wide to invite them in. You'll beg if it means an end to the taunting. “Please touch me.”
Their hands find purchase along your thighs. “You’re so needy, my pet.” They kiss low on your belly again, palms smoothing over your legs. Taking the fabric of your panties in their hands, they rip them from your body and throw them away. You roll your eyes, but your sass is interrupted when a warm, wet tongue licks wide along your pussy.
The heightened sensations course through your veins like fire and a low moan simmers from your throat. You curse under your breath when their lips wrap around you, tongue plunging between your folds and filling you with pleasure.
You tug on the chains, moving to break them with your sheer strength, but they don't budge. You feel their lips spread wider in an almost malicious smirk. They curl their tongue inside of you, suckling on your clit before pulling away and licking their lips, the red still intact.
"You're not getting out of those," they purr. "Trust me."
You almost scoff at that. "Trust me". Yeah, right.
But, at the same time, you're the one chained to the bed with your legs spread open for (the equivalent of) the god of desire. Your thoughts are immediately disassembled once more when lips find the hot junction of your thighs.
Your knees bend and you squirm at the feeling, your eyes closing as you toss your head back. Their fingers curl tighter around your thighs as they feed off your pleasure, straying from your cunt to lick along damp thighs, teeth finding the plush skin just to sink into it.
Your back arches then, a deeper moan clawing at your throat as that ecstacy spreads. Fuck, you hadn't realized just how much you enjoyed having someone else sink their teeth into your flesh for once, to have someone else feed off of you just for the pleasure of it.
"Desire," you moan, unable to hold back this time from your audible arousal. You didn't want to give so much satisfaction to a being already so smug. But they did deserve it—a sort of giving credit where it's due.
You pull at your restraints again, whimpering when nails like claws dig into your skin and scratch down the length of them to give rise to angry red lines. You bite down on your lip. You draw blood.
You don't seem like the only one who can smell it when their mischievous face peers up at you with that curling grin, traveling back up the length of you to kiss hungrily at awaiting lips. What you share shouldn't be described as a kiss, not with the way you both bite and tear, devouring one another in a rough but empowering passion.
The taste of your blood is sweet in nature as they lick it from your lip. You wrap your legs around their waist, and they smile as they move one hand to support one. "Oh, baby," they groan. "You are divine."
You bite their lip in return, hard enough just to manage the slightest taste of the aroma that had been so attractive before. Though it's hardly a sample, the taste is like nothing you have ever had before. Human blood was great, especially coming from someone whose blood was pure, but this… You would kill for this. You would maim and massacre for this.
Another moan draws from you, fangs returning at the intoxicating taste. Before you can think to control yourself, you lunge forward in an attempt to take a bite out of them, just a nibble, just a taste. But Desire could not have been quicker as a pale hand wraps around your neck and stops you, pinning you down against the bed with a malicious smirk and a cruel laugh.
You come back to yourself almost immediately as the mist clears, reminding you who you are and what you’ve just done. For half a second, shame and panic fills you before you return to an unapologetic stoicism.
"Now, now, my little sapling," they tut, leaning in with no care for safety to whisper in your ear. "You'll get a taste of me soon enough."
The promise of such a treat fills the pit of your stomach with warmth that spreads throughout your body and tingles in all the right places. If you weren't already aroused before, you were practically dripping now, salivating at the prospect. Their lips find your neck, tongue darting out to lick over a vein before biting down into the skin there and lighting a fire within you.
Your arms flex against the cuffs and a restlessness fills your bones. You need more.
A slender finger pokes at the slick folds of your cunt, tracing the seam with an annoying amount of expertise before slipping inside. It fills you, inch by inch until it's buried to the hilt. In and out, their finger dips and curls and coaxes gentle whimpers from you. Adding another finger, and then another still, your whimpers become louder as pace builds.
"You're so wet, my darling," they dawn, the words dissolving in a moan as they speak. "Could it be that you wanted this so badly? You needed it?" They shift down to take a nipple into their mouth, flicking and sucking with teeth and tongue. The shift gave a new angle as they continue to create a speed that has your hips bucking. The sounds of a palm slapping against a soaking little cunt fill the space and your moans are next to follow.
"Listen to you," they continue, voice dripping with arousal. "So needy, so wanting. And look at you," they laugh, "You're practically begging me to fuck you dumb."
You don't respond. You don't know what you'd respond with—Nuh-uh? You buck your hips up some more, losing breath over the way their tongue massages your nipple, licking into it and somehow creating the most overwhelming pleasure out of the smallest thing.
You miss it when they pull away, kissing down to your belly again before their mouth is met with your pretty pussy once more. They don't waste time as their lips and tongue create an assault on your clit.
Their fingers continue to pump inside of you, driving you mad with the aid of their skilled tongue. Your curses don't seem to matter, no matter how much you make them as you continue to let your hips seek out the pleasure. When it becomes too much and too little all at once and it all feels like teasing, your body moves before your mind to flip yourself over onto your knees, shifting to accommodate for the fact that you are still very much cuffed to the bed.
Desire is pleasantly surprised by the new angle, situated under you with your desperate hips against their face. Golden eyes flutter shut, playing along as fingers dig into the meat of your ass to guide you in your grinding. It almost sounds like muttering as they moan underneath you, the vibrations trembling along your spine.
After a particularly rough grind, they reward you with a smack to your ass, grabbing the flesh momentarily before rubbing their palms against you again. As they suckle around your clit, slowly adding more pressure to pull you closer to your release, you moan and sigh, eager for that release to fill you.
You throw your head back and gasp when you cum, thighs trembling and shaking as they refuse to let up. As the aftershocks spark, electricity in your veins, your fingers tangle in their hair as you sit up, pulling your hips away to catch your breath.
They lick their lips, tasting you on their skin with an immense amount of appreciation. "You are delectable, my sweet," they purr, undoing the furry cuffs with a chuckle and sitting up to pull you into their lap.
"You're not so bad yourself," you breathe as you wrap your arms around their shoulders. You lean forward, bumping your lips against theirs with a little bit too much intimacy before allowing yourself to soothe into the kiss, tasting yourself on their lips with a quiet hum.
Moving one hand over their chest, you slip it down slowly until you are finally able to undo the red belt wrapped around their waist. They smile against your lips as you slide your hand inside and meet slick folds. You make a short humming sound, almost a grunt.
"What?" they mumble against your lips. "Expecting something else?"
You shrug, leaning back in for a deeper kiss as you tease them, guiding your finger inside with a long stroke, adding a second in on the next one. A grumbling moan vibrated against your mouth.
With one hand tangled in their hair, you unweave your fingers in favor of finding the strings along their back, pulling at it slowly to remove the bustier hiding so much smooth skin from you. Just as you are able to loosen it, feeling it slipping off their form, they pull you back with a primal sound.
Desire pushes you off of them, to which you stare with kiss-swollen lips. You watch as they continue the process, finally stripping for you so you aren't the only one of you nude. They hover over you once again, capturing your lips in another bruising kiss as you smooth a hand down their side, sticking your fingers back into the warmth of their pussy.
Their eyes flutter at the feeling, opening to look back at you with a seductive grin as they kiss you again.
Your bodies move together as you take your time to stroke and thrust, curling your fingers against all the right places to pull delicious moans from their perfect throat. You hold the side of their neck, bringing your lips to the other as you nibble at the skin, practically salivating at the scent of what lies just on the other side of such delicate flesh.
You chuckle as a sigh passes their lips when you pull your hands from them. They cast an almost disappointed look upon you as you wrap your arms around them and sit up, pushing them onto their back. You hover over them this time, kissing their lips quickly before you shift to kiss down their body.
You hadn't intended to tease at first, but as your lips brushed over their clit, you pause, looking up with a smirk. Staring at them, you kiss it gently before moving down again to kiss along their thighs.
"Oh, don't you dare," they chuckle darkly, watching you take a thigh in your hand and smother it with lips and tongue and teeth. You ignore them, continuing to give affection to the skin there as you switch sides.
They huff your name—a name you had not yet given prior to all of this—and lean back with closed eyes. "Fuck, will you make me beg?"
Your smirk deepens as your teeth nibble at the skin just above their femoral artery. "I might," you chuckle.
They don't reply at first, holding on to the pride they'd dangled over you since they met you in the alleyway. The teasing becomes too unbearable to endure as you draw closer and closer to the place they wanted you most to be. They give in with a huffed "fine" after you'd reflected on how you could do this all night—you only have an eternity.
"Alright, please," they mumble, a hand finding your hair and grasping. "Please forget your insistent taunting and fuck me."
You'd take it.
With one last kiss to the top of their knee, you smile. "Okay." They roll their eyes but you cut them off with your lips on their slick cunt. It's not as they expected it to be as you immediately go in for the prey, your tongue plunging in and out, your lips suckling on a pulsing clit. Their hands tangle in the bedsheets before upgrading to your messy hair once more.
You spread their legs wide, adding your fingers back after another long moment of listening to pleasant moans as you thrust them inside.
"That's it," they sigh. "Just like that, my darling." More praises fall from their lips throughout the time you spend with your head buried between their legs. You enjoy every second immensely, tasting the sweet nectar of their arousal as you coax it from them, taking the grinding of their hips every time you curl your fingers or suck on their clit. You could spend forever down here.
As their walls flutter around your fingers, you only work harder to get them toward the edge. And when you send them over it with a shuddering gasp melted into a louder moan than you'd expected, you smile proudly.
"Oh, fuck!" they breathe. "Such a good g-irl."
You hadn't expected Desire to be as vocal as they are, their fingers firm in your hair as they tug and gasp with a lewd grin in place. You let your tongue explore a moment longer before pulling away, licking the arousal still seeping. You turn your head toward their thigh again, licking over that same artery again with a tentative bite before kissing it and moving back to Desire's lips.
You sigh against their lips. "Are we done?"
They laugh like it was a joke. "Babygirl, not even close."
They actually growl when they take your head in their hands and kiss you, a rough and guttural sound as they pull you into their lap with your legs wrapped around them. They bite your bottom lip enough to draw blood again, trailing their lips further down to your neck as they paint you in their affection.
Your eyes flutter shut as you lean your head back, sighing as you feel the touch of their lips at your throat. You stiffen for a moment when a warm length presses against your folds. As you look down again, you're surprised to be greeted by a cock and not a cunt against yours.
Long fingers stroke it, fingertips gliding over the bottom and up to the tip where it glistens with precum.
"Expecting something else?" they repeat with a raised brow.
You shrug, choosing not to comment and worsen an already inflated ego. You lift yourself up a little on your knees as you kiss them again, allowing your hands to find their new home in the messy locks of Desire's hair. Their hands squeeze your hips, moving down some more to cup your ass in their palms with a sudden smack.
You mewl and roll your hips forward, your folds just slightly brushing over an erect cock that had not been there a mere minute ago. Flushed red at the tip, it was a generous size. It was actually perfect as you felt it rub against you.
Desire steadied you by your hips, bringing a hand to your chin as they spoke softly, in that smooth, smokey tone that melted on your skin like honey. "Do you want to continue, heartstring?"
You try to lean forward, to kiss your confirmation. They don't let you, pulling away just out of reach as they await your response. You nod gently, smoothing your knuckles along their jaw and licking your bottom lip. "Yes, sire," you whisper back, closing the distance once more with a tentative kiss as you sink back into them.
They moan against your mouth as you kiss, mixing with yours as they position themself at your wet cunt, sliding inside with ease and splitting you on their cock. You breathe each other's air this close to the other, fingers in soft white hair and hands on beautifully carved hips. You sit in their lap, taking a moment just to feel the length buried to the hilt inside of you. A shudder runs down your spine as their fingertips trace up your sides and along the line of your back.
You ease up on your knees, feeling them dragging along your walls as they pull out before you drop your weight back down in a measured stroke. Their hands find your hips again, guiding you on the second stroke, then the third, then the fourth. It isn't long before a pace builds and the careful sets of up and down become a breath-filled repetition of eager thrusts.
You bounce up and down on top of them, their hands gripping you as you brace yourself on their shoulders. Up and down and up and down, you give into the pleasure as the moans stifle in your throat on your own accord. As their lips trail along the column, it becomes harder. This spot will always be your weakness, and they know all too well as their teeth graze the skin.
"Hmm," they rasp. "Look at you, so eager." They pull your hips down for a rough thrust and a shocked gasp falls out of you. They breathe in sudden and deep, smiling as their face forms in a lustful look reminding you of relief and peace. They almost look softer like this, kinder. You work harder to embrace that look, to watch them as you find yourself addicted to the sight of it.
"Just like that," they say, breathy and light, the words almost sounding unfinished by a tongue made lazy. "Mmm, moan for me, dear. Let me hear how good you feel."
And again, you give in, allowing yourself to succumb to the rest of the pleasure taunting you as you release the moans hounded into your throat. "Desire," you whimper, the sound of your thighs smacking against their lap, both slick now from the arousal dripping out of you. You don't know what to say, you just want to let the sound of their name pleasure your mouth as their cock pleasures your cunt.
"Do you love it?" Tongue tracing, teeth biting, lips grazing. All these sensations burn in your heart, fills you with a fondness that eats away at the apathy you thought you'd grown over the years. “Do you love how I fuck you?”
Your teeth sink into your abused bottom lip, which slips from its grip pale before flushing with blood again. "I do," you huff. "I love it."
You grind in their lap, burying your face in the crook of their neck, teasing the skin with your teeth. Desire feels your fangs scraping their flesh and shudders. "Let it go," they rasp in your ear like the whispers of fate and destiny. "Give yourself to me… All to me."
With a breath not yet released, you sunk your teeth into warm flesh, piercing the skin and feeling the hot rush of ambrosia filling your mouth. You groan roughly, moving a hand to support the other side of their neck as you pull more and more of their essence into you, forgetting yourself in the temptations of Desire.
Their lips part as shallow breaths stutter out from their lungs. Repetitive mumbles of "yes, yes, yes," from their lips as you feed from them and they feed from you. Their thumb finds your clit, and you stutter momentarily at the pleasure that suddenly fills you at their calculated circle. The pleasure kicks, like flickering flames too eager to spread and ignite.
It happens so naturally as their words—"let go"—whisper in your ear, yet creates such an explosion of ecstasy that you almost can't breathe. Their name leaves you in a moan as you grind your hips in an indulgent swivel. Your walls flutter around them, clenching as the waves of euphoria intoxicate you and you pull away from their throat.
You shudder as you cum, your body trembling with a lust still not quite satiated as you slowly, slowly come down. Desire continues to rock your hips slowly back and forth, hooded eyes watching you readjust while the wounds your fangs left behind heal.
You look into their eyes of golden magma, warmed by the passion in them as they regard you dearly. Licking lips still tainted with blood. "More," you sigh. "I want more."
They hold you closer, eager for your lips as they capture them again, shifting forward and forward still until you lay on your back and they hover over you. "Then more, you shall get."
Thrusting into you again, the sensitive aftershocks of your prior orgasm still sparked inside of you as you relished in the drag. The slow pace that had been set didn't last long as you muttered "more, more, more" under your breath. What had been measured thrusts became an impassioned fucking that had you moaning loudly with each snap of their hips.
They watch as the lust and pleasure flit across your face, guiding hair from your forehead and gliding knuckles over your jaw. "Look at you," they purr, staring at your face as they hold your leg over their waist. It's the fourth time those words have come from their mouth, each time holding more and more tenderness than the last. "My sweet girl, my lonely girl." A rough thrust has them groaning, breaking from their praise to take a hitching breath. "My beautiful girl."
"Desire," you sigh. "You're amazing."
Like the praise delights you, Desire lets out a longing sigh, nearly folding at the sound of it. They moan your name, cradling your neck in one hand and holding you close by your hips with the other as they spear you on their cock, eager to get another release out of you and coax themself toward their own. Desire watches a stray tear that had built in your eye slowly slip down your pretty cheek.
"Such a pretty girl," they purr as they stroke your cheek, careful not to wipe away the tear yet as they watch it slip down, down, down. "Look at you, crying for me like the good girl you are. Loving how I fuck you, loving how I make you feel."
They bend down, their tongue darting out to taste the tear. A tiny breath deepens within their chest as they grin. "Mmm," they sigh. "All the loss and the love and the lust. My poor, lonely, pretty girl."
"Pl-please," you stutter, legs shaking around their waist. "Needa cum so bad."
They hum, "Of course you do, my sweet."
You huff, "Please, my Desire."
They love how you speak to them, how you have such power still even as you whimper and whine beneath them. They love your praise and they love your body and they love your cute little face twisted in pleasure like no other that only they could provide you. They love how they can feel your pleasure, feel how much you crave them, feel how much you crave to please them and be pleased by them.
They can't help whispering "such a perfect girl" as they shake their head in disbelief. You moan when their thumb presses once again to your aching clit, quickly turning up the ecstasy again as you grind against their thrusts.
"Fuck," you sigh. "Yes, yes, Desire."
They keep working at your clit, expert fingers gliding over it as they watch you with a wicked grin. Their hips keep pumping as they speak, "Cum for me, baby. Cum, let it go, let it all go for me. Just for me, my precious."
Your heart swells with too much fondness for their words, translating into the physical and emotional pleasure they fuck into your body. You take in a breath too deep when you finally reach the peak of your ecstasy a third time, cumming harder than before as Desire fucks you through it. Rambles fall from your lips, each word less coherent than the last as the euphoria hunts every nerve in your body until each and every one is prey to lust. You watch through dizzy eyes and listen through fuzzy ears as Desire succumbs to the same pleasure.
A deep moan full of hunger is rough at their throat and it roars. Your name taunts their lips when they press themself inside of you, as deep as they'll go as they spill within your clenching cunt, painting your walls white and filling you with warmth and affection. This pulls a second wave out of you toward the end of your orgasm, not as powerful as the last but just as satiating as they gripped your hip and neck to steady themself.
You watch Desire as they cum inside of you, as fascinated as your hazy mind can be as you look over them. They cum like it's the first time, an all-consuming experience they gain from feeding off of your own release. They're loud, nearly shouting to announce their release and sounding almost as needy as you. They calm just enough to allow their body to relax, almost dropping their weight on top of you as your arms wrap around them.
You hadn't realized until now that you were mumbling their name, a repeated prayer on your lips as your body buzzed with the leftover shocks. As they simmer in the tips of your fingers and toes, you lay there under Desire, still wrapped up in them as you take a moment to take them in. You inhale their intoxicating scent—what was a natural perfume meant to attract and allure others with the smell of sex was now a thousand times stronger, mixing in with something that was uniquely them. You bring your arms around them down to make them lay on you, dropping the rest of their weight and sighing under it like a weighted blanket. They give in, accepting the new position for what it is as they slowly come to.
They take your chin between their fingers and smile. "You are amazing," they mutter with too much emotion. Then they kiss you, a light kiss nothing like the ones before that. You relish in it, in its sweetness, in its strange cruelty.
You let them pamper you, slowly pulling out—much to your dismay as you whine at the cold, empty feeling. Their fingers graze your skin and you sigh and lay there and breathe. They call you sweet names and you enjoy the aftercare as they give it with a warm cloth and kisses alike.
As they're finishing, you raise a hand to their cheek, cupping it and easing them back in bed with you, over you. You smooth your thumb over their cheek, biting your bottom lip as you stare. You stare at their golden eyes full of a million desires. You stare at their red lips, still painted like blood and not even a tad smeared as they should be. You stare at their white hair, messy and all the more beautiful along their head and face.
Your thumb strokes their cheek. Lost in your own thoughts, in your own mind, you begin to smile as your heart swells with that same amount of excessive fondness as before. You swallow the lump in your throat and blink away the tears you refuse to acknowledge.
"Desire," you whisper. Too soft.
They hum tentatively, fingers moving so their knuckles graze over your collarbone. You sigh gently, shaking your head even gentler.
"You're beautiful."
They want to say something funny, something quick-witted. But the words freeze on their tongue as they gaze into you and your tear-glazed eyes. They swallow thickly, unsure of why staring so long was beginning to turn fire to an ember in their blood, their tongue mush in their mouth.
"Thank you, lovely."
You both lay there, your bodies slotted together as you enjoy the other's body pressing against your own. Breaking the silence, you murmur, "Did you know it would be you?"
A pause. A slow, silent sigh. A nod. "Yes," they say just as quietly.
You consider that a moment, never tearing your eyes from their face. "Why?"
They take a moment, face as soft as a feather. They lean forward, lips lingering near yours as you stay barely an inch from the other. The tip of their nose brushes yours and your eyes flutter.
They lean a little closer still, turning their head just slightly as your foreheads press together, your eyes closing and your shallow breaths teasing sensitive skin. Their voice washes over you with a type of grief you know all too well.
"We are endless, my dear…but everyone ends."
You sigh, opening your eyes and slowly moving to sit up. Desire pulls you back into their lap in a straddle, holding you there by your backside as you wrap your legs around them. You slot your arms over their shoulders, gazing for another long, quiet moment, and leaning forward for another kiss. Too tender.
Lips brush and press and reciprocate the newfound peace and care that has grown between you in a matter of hours, ignited by a spell made of love. Your fingers gently card through their hair, fiddling with a lock of snow white, even as you pull away and look at them again.
You smile, licking your bottom lip between your teeth and sighing. "Thank you," you murmur, almost as though you were promising the world.
They smile back at you, not as scandalous as they had been before. "Thank you."
Lord Morpheus x Fem!OC (Ophelia)
004: absolution -> CHAPTER INDEX
English is not my first language, sorry for the mistakes but be nice about it!
Summary: maybe it's time you start thinking beyond your own heartache
Warnings: none
previous: 003 / next: 005
Your neck hurts when you turn as fast as you used to, your hands are useful although weaker than claws but at least your jawline stays as sharp and cutting.
This and more changed with the loss of your wings.
Counting them down comes as a relief for your aching soul when you wander around the Dream Palace.
The air was cold, you were sure that it was several degrees under the temperature on the outside. The grand gray hallways were a maze to anyone who didn't know their way through them.
It used to be less... gloomy, you suppose. More luminous. A reflection of Morpheus pride put into stone and glass.
Now, you guess, it was reflecting the weather outside.
The rain kept raging on even after Rose Walker woke up from her dream and left the three of you alone once again.
It was incredibly strange, how a mortal could walk into the throne room just like that. Worryingly threatening.
But Morpheus' approach to her was surprisingly warm, even curious. He was fascinated with vortexes, always had and always will.
Something in his eyes made you want to crawl out of your skin.
Because they weren’t looking at you like that.
He was welcoming, exuding acceptance and compliance— like he was ready to discover any and every secret she was unconsciously hiding. And still, you knew he didn’t completely trust her.
But then again, who did the Dream Lord truly trust?
Me, you think hopefully to yourself, and still he hasn’t laid his eyes on you once you were finished providing the results of your studies on the new vortex’s book. Too busy holding this petty grudge against you.
You couldn’t blame him, you were the same.
Centuries of companionship did that, for sure. You were to have disagreements and arguments, even holding resentments— more on your part than his.
Not against you, never against you.
Remaining in the Dreaming even after denying him what he wanted— your mind, your burden— was proof of that.
Others were casted away for way less.
So, maybe it was time to give into this warm feeling and stop clawing at your own pride.
“What should I do, Philly?” you almost jump when you hear the voice and the ruffle of wings.
You find yourself in the middle of a hallway, looking up at Matthew flying circles around you.
“For starters, denying my involvement in any of this” you nod, pulling your hair away from your right shoulder so he can perch himself on it “I’m already on his bad side” you nod as the raven falls swiftly on you.
Matthew didn't know you were Dream’s previous raven— he just thought you were the kind lady who would give him the purpose he had in the Dreaming. Even days after, he would ramble about what you said to him nonstop to Lucienne as if it was the gospel truth.
Especially now that you were his new favorite person at the Dreaming.
He would seek you out after a long day, just to update you on his work in the Waking World.
His secret and a bit risky job was keeping an eye on Rose and reporting back to you or Lucienne.
“That goes without saying” he nods his little head “But, Rose— she’s a magnet of problems” he sounds exasperated “We should tell the boss”
“Morpheus doesn’t even knows you’re still lurking in the Dreaming, sweetheart” you sigh “Look, I’ll make my best to convince him you’re the man for the job—”
“Raven” he corrects you.
“Raven” you chuckle, then “Oh, Matthew, please tell me: have you been able to see a shooting star in the Waking World?” you ask, dreamily and wanting.
Maybe your friend could tell you more about how one of the worlds you’ve lost was moving on without you.
Looking at the rain drenching the garden and overflowing the fountains of the Dream Palace, you lean against one of the columns of the sheltered gallery.
Sighing and letting the sound surround you completely.
You hated the rain as a raven, it kept you inside for an absurdly long time— flying in it was exhausting and disorienting, something Morpheus made you swear to not do unless strictly necessary for cold would cling to your bones and your feathers would stick together in a way that brought you down with your own soaked through weight.
But, then again, you weren’t a raven anymore.
And that promise had no longer to be kept.
It was strange, how days being away from him felt worse than years: maybe because when he was abducted, it wasn’t his choice to stay away.
But he was keeping himself from you on purpose now.
Your sadness was a burden you would not rest upon your Lord, not even if he asked you to. It’s not fair to lay it on him when he was not the one that caused it in the first place. If anything, him being back was all your tired heart could have ever hope for.
But, then again, anger was easy to cling to– to let it stick around.
The rain was warm, and it casted light and softly onto you as you stepped out of the sheltered gallery and towards one of the fountains. As the summer breeze helps your flushed neck and face to cool down, you look up at the sky. And then close your eyes with a long sigh for a few seconds.
To be human is to be in pain.
It was to be beautiful, to be demanded. To be cherished and to be defied.
And you didn’t entirely like it, but you wouldn’t call it hell to be earthbounded.
Not in the slightest.
Because it also meant you could shower in his rain.
You hold the skirt of your dress up, feet going over the edge of the fountain's basin one at the time after taking your sandals off.
It was cold, but not unbearable— and the sensation made you finally relax as you were itching to get closer to the water.
You hum in a sigh, closing your eyes once again as you let go of the skirt and pull the hair that was sticking to your cheeks away.
And, when you open your eyes, there’s Morpheus.
He’s standing across the fountain, an invisible ring around him prevents the rain from soaking him through.
He was looking straight at you, commanding and strong. A force pulling you in.
Pursing your lips, you grab the skirt of your dress again and step towards him.
He watches you without even blinking and you wonder if you’re blurring out his periphery like he’s doing with yours.
When you get to the end of the fountain, you stretch your arms and hands towards him— he obliges. Helping you to stand on the edge of the fountain’s basin, he takes a step closer to you.
The small invisible ring now protects you from the rain too, the sound also disappearing as you stand inside of it.
His power pulsing all around you.
“Should I remind you of your fragile nature?” he rasps out, hand travelling from your hands to your elbows— chin tilting up to compensate for the height difference now that you’re up on the fountain’s basin.
You hum, your own hands resting on the inside of his elbows as his hands wander further up “I wanted to know what it was like”
“The rain?” he deadpans softly, hands trailing up to push the hair out of your shoulders and squeeze and twist it so the water would drain out of it.
“I haven’t been under the rain for centuries, you made me promise not to” you remind him, fingers tapping mindlessly against his arm with an slow rhythm.
There's a ghost of amused indulgence in the corner of his lips as they twitch up “Is this your way of defying me? By breaking your promises?” he asks, hands cupping your jaw as he dries your cheeks.
“I don’t have wings anymore”
His eyes sober up, looking between yours.
Because it’s raw, and emotional. And it’s something.
It’s finally giving in and resting upon him, not being able to drift away from the grief it caused you to not be free anymore.
He purses his lips “Share your mind with me, little bird” he whispers, a plea for what he’s been asking from you for days now.
You swallow hard, squeezing his forearms “It is not a matter of the mind” you croak out, trying to make him understand.
Morpheus’ hand slides down to your waist as he makes you step down from the edge of the basin. As he looks down at you, he stops the invisible ring from protecting you both from the rain.
Your gasp turns into a surprised huff of laughter, looking around for a second before focusing back on him.
“Let it wash it away” he whispers to you.
And after that, the rain starts to give the Dreaming it’s well deserved rest.
For you are forgiven.
Later inside the warm water of the bathtub you hug your legs as you come to understand what he meant by fragile.
You were trembling when you reached your tower, nose running and teeth chattering. It was an immediate relief to be able to get into hot water— to rest surrounded by warmth.
Lilacs surrounded you, their scent sticking to your skin and hair making it your own.
Stretching, you rest against the white porcelain of the bath— sighing deeply as your hands play with a few petals.
Thinking back to the moment of your absolution, you wonder if Morpheus was ever angry to begin with or if you made yourself unreachable. Either way, it feels kind of silly now that you’re forgiven and gifted so many indulgences.
His hand in yours, elegant and respectful, as he walks you back into the palace with the rain covering you both.
The soft squeezing of your fingers and the small hesitation before watching you part with his far more dry coat engulfing you in warmth.
You cover your face with your hands, sighing as you try to shake the feeling of embarrassment rushing through you— a small smile on your lips as your own hands slide down to cup your jaw as he did earlier.
And, out of nowhere, you leave a small kiss on your palm as if they were his hands on you—
You think you’re going crazy. Delirium’s probably bubbling with amazement at how silly you were acting in your own private rooms— she probably didn’t see it coming, always the serious raven now giggling like a mere mortal buzzing with excitement upon such a small caress.
It was a fair exchange, you think to yourself: your beautiful shiny feathers for this soft and warm skin.
If it meant it would entice him to touch you more often.
She's out and about while he's sitting at home, pulling tufts of his own hair out. It's almost like she's forgotten about him. Nothing he can't fuck back into her memory tho 🤷♀️
cw: smut (so mdni!), stand and carry fuck / wall sex (the goat), mirror sex, jealous Caleb awh, sweet at the end i swear
She slides the key into the keyhole as quietly as she can, turning the door knob with her lip between her teeth. It’s 1AM and her phone has been blowing up for the past three hours.
Where are you?
Let me know when you’re on your way home.
Are you okay?
Hello?
Do you need me to pick you up?
Let me know that you’re okay.
Hello??
She clenches her eyes until she hears the faint click of the door opening. She had accidentally put her phone in ‘do not disturb’ mode earlier, only getting to check it when she was on her way home.
“Caleb is going to kill me.” The thought hums its way like a mantra through her mind and she can only purse her lips in defeat. She steps into her apartment and shuts the door behind her. Her feet are killing her. Though the pink heels she has on aren’t necessarily as high as her other heels, the material still clips at her heels and toes. She braces a hand on the wall, using the other to start untying the winding ribbon on her calf. But her bag slides and knocks into her hand at the tip of her weight. She thinks she might fall over before she throws her weight completely onto the wall.
When she looks up, Caleb is leaning against the doorway, a hand placed languidly on his hip. She gasps, almost falling down again.
“Caleb..!” He pushes himself up, walking towards her. His brows are furrowed. And he’s wearing outerwear. “You scared me.” When he stops in front of her, he takes her elbows into his hands, balancing her off the wall.
“I was so worried.”
She grimaces before giving him her best, pleading look.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t realise my phone was on ‘do not disturb’. I didn’t get any of your messages until I was nearly home.” He takes the bag off her shoulder and hangs it at the door.
“You didn’t get my messages? Or you just didn’t happen to see them until now?” Despite her eyes crinkling in guilt, his gaze is lowered at her feet. He kneels down and begins untying the ribbon bow.
“Caleb…”
“You must’ve been really engrossed in whatever you were doing to not check your phone.” Although his words cut into her, his tone is soft. Almost disinterested. Once the ribbon falls to her ankles, he undoes the other shoe. “You’re home safe now. That’s all that matters.” He looks up and gives her a reassuring smile. She can’t help but run her hand through his hair. It’s soft and smells faintly of their shared shampoo.
She winces as he guides one foot out of her heel, leaning one hand down onto his shoulder.
“Your skin’s rubbed raw.” He frowns, wrapping an arm beneath her knees. He picks her up bridal style and she curls her arms around his neck despite feeling supported. Red floods her cheeks and her wide eyes can hardly stay on his. He wiggles her other shoe off before dropping it to the floor. He turns his head to her, mouth parting then closing again, as he walks further into the house.
“Caleb, you don’t have to…” He ignores her.
“Why not wear more comfortable shoes next time?” She looks down, suddenly finding his plain shirt interesting.
“I didn’t think I’d be walking as much as I did. Anyway, it only started hurting now.”
“Right,” he hums, turning the corner into the bathroom and flicking the lightswitch with his elbow. He sets her down on the counter and smooths down the fabric of her dress over her knees. There, his fingers linger, letting the soft cotton fall through his hands.
The bathroom is cramped. Really, it’s a battle when they’re both using it to get ready at the same time. Despite the state of their bathroom in their youth, the room now is spotless. The counter only has their differing face cleansers and creams lined up neatly against the splashback. When he stays over he uses her shampoo, conditioner, and body wash. And he comes out smelling just as pampered as her. He claims that her shampoo makes his hair softer. It’s a local brand, one that he can’t find in Skyhaven. So he’s always taking a travel size back with him when he returns.
He bends down and opens the cabinet, grabbing ointment and a box of bandaids. As he unscrews the cap of the ointment, she takes the box in her hands, inspecting the designs on the back. It’s the same brand they had used as kids, but now the patterns were different. She shuffles through the packets, looking for one with a design to her liking. A wince leaves her mouth as the cool ointment presses into her heel. Caleb murmurs an apology, offering her a teasing pout. He uses a cotton pad to gently rub it in before holding his hand out to her.
“See any you like?” She hands him one with a cartoon apple on it.
“I don’t remember buying these.”
“That’s ‘cause I bought them.” He smooths the bandaid over her skin before standing up and washing his hands beside her. She watches him in silence, chewing at her lip. When he’s done, he returns in front of her, not one word having been exchanged since.
He rests his hands on either side of her, taking a step back and letting his eyes wander over her. Her cheeks are still flushed as his scent encases her. She can feel the warmth radiating off of him; it’s a nice contrast to the goosebumps forming on her shoulders. Her dress is a pillowy pink, with lace butterflies sewn over the straps and bust. The sleeves are a sheer tulle that open out into a fanned cuff at her wrists. She wants to throw a towel at him, but there’s nothing in reach. She has never worn something like this, never seen herself in something so dainty and elegant. So, of course, neither has Caleb. Sure, he had witnessed her princess phases when she was young; the phases when she’d wrap bedsheets around her like a ballgown and appoint him as her butler. Have him hold her hand so she wouldn’t trip over the bundle of fabric while she paraded around their living room.
And the phase in middle school when she began to experiment with makeup, braving school with cheeks so pink it looked like a sunburn. He had even seen her at her high school dance. Makeup done professionally, and a pretty dress that was fit for royalty. But she had still been a teenager. And throughout college and her moving into the workforce, she never returned to those princess phases.
Not until right now.
“You’re beautiful.” He twirls the ribbon around his finger loosely before letting it fall back against her dress. Then he brushes his thumb over her knee, tracing the dangerous line where skin disappears into fabric. His eyes wander over her face. The soft, pink blend of blush on her cheekbones. The intricate detailing of brown and black shadow around her eyes drawn out into subtle winged eyeliner. The gentle, coral plush of her lips. He swallows, a pink hue prickling at his cheeks. “So pretty. Did you have a good time at least?”
She drags her fingers up his arm, pressing into the hard muscle, before humming in reply. She can’t trust her voice not to quiver. Can’t trust her face to not flush in embarrassment if she meets his endearing eyes. No matter what he says, some part of her will still feel like the silly little girl dressing up. He mirrors her hand, knuckles brushing up her wrist, all the way up past her shoulder to her chin. He lifts her jaw so that she meets his gaze, face craned down and eyes searching hers. His brows are slightly furrowed, and she knows if she lets him look any longer, he’ll figure out exactly what’s wrong. So she pushes his hand away. But he only reels back closer than before, palm pressing against her cheek as his fingers wrap along the shell of her ear. He guides her lips towards his, then he waits. Hovers. And she watches as he takes another look down at her dress before clenching his eyes. She watches as his mouth fights between their open and closed states, like he’s juggling with whether or not to speak.
He decides to kiss her first, taking her lip between his and pushing feverishly into her. She wraps a hand around the arm that is still braced on the counter beside her. But the kiss is as fleeting as her shock. He pulls away, just far enough to speak into her cheek.
“I’ve never seen this dress before…” Is that what he’s thinking about? Her mind blanks.
“...It was a gift.”
“Right,” comes his reply after a beat. He doesn’t dwell on it any longer before he leans down again to capture her lips once more. He doesn’t mean to be rough. But the way he’s angling his face, pushing her body back further onto the counter, she can only grip his arm tighter. His tongue swipes at her lip and she lets him in without a thought. His smell, entwined with the scent of his shampoo, fills her. Her eyes fall shut and she feels her mind slip. His tongue is cruel as it sucks on hers, coaxing her mouth wider.
“Right, but, from who?”
She has to fight the roll of her eyes as she takes in a breath, pulling him back towards her. She doesn’t answer, and he doesn’t force her. Her hand runs up along his scalp, messing up his neat hair. She doesn’t know why, but she has a fixation with his hair. The way it just falls through her fingers. The way no matter what angle she’s touching his head, he always lets a groan slip. Delightful, full groans as he rocks his body against her, in between her inviting legs. He hikes her dress up to get closer. He thinks he should be afraid of ruining it, but he isn’t. Not even in the slightest.
“Mmph,” she moans into his mouth. When he lets up, giving them a chance to breathe, both their lips are red and swollen. She can almost see the puffs of hot air leaving his mouth. Almost hear the thumping of his chest if her own wasn’t so overpowering. Her lipstick is smudged at the corners of his mouth, so she takes her thumb and swipes at it, watching with half-lidded eyes at the plush of his lips under her finger.
“Can I take this off?” He fingers thread over the tied ribbons on her sleeves. Despite its airy and pretty appearance, the tulle rubs against her skin the wrong way.
“Yeah.” She guides him back down to her, leaving small kisses along his jaw. At the corners of his mouth. Along the thin flesh of his neck as he pulses against her. His breaths are heavy as he undoes the ribbon and slides the sleeve off her. He does the same on the other side. Then his hand travels to the strap of the dress, tugging gently at the bow.
His brows furrow as he looks at the thin straps. Her skin is flushed beneath it, and her chest is rising unevenly. Slowly, he pulls the end of the bow until it falls messily and the fabric falls just shy of her breast. He gapes, pulling back a little to get a glimpse of her face.
“No bra?” It’s almost a whisper; almost just to himself, even, as his fingers dip over the soft curve of her flesh. She reaches for his hand, and guides it to the other strap without a word. No, her lips are focused on unwinding him from the base of his throat. He follows her encouragement and pulls the string, letting the bust of the fabric fall down onto her lap. He takes a moment, eyes grazing over the swell of her breasts. Over her hardened nipples as the rush of cold air engulfs them.
“Don’t stare,” she whines, pulling his face into her neck. He uses the opportunity to reach around her and begin loosening the lace in the corset.
“Why not, though?” His tone is teasing.
“It’s unfair,” she mumbles, hands lifting the hem of his shirt. He lets her tug it up to his chest before helping her and pulling it over his head. When he looks back at her, her cheeks are red as embers. His scent is overwhelming, and the heat radiating off his chest makes her dizzy. But she reaches up anyway, and runs her palm over his chest. Her fingers dip and bend to every crevice, every rise and fall of his muscles.
Forgetting the corset, his hands pull her chin back towards him. His lips are scorching against hers, wet and messy in their trail down to her jaw. She gasps into the air, pulling him closer by his waist. The sheer broadness of his torso forces her legs wider, and he leans flush against her. His fingers work blindly to hike the rest of her dress up, pulling it out from under her and bunching it together at her waist.
“Look at you.” His thumbs strokes at the soft flesh of her inner thigh before taking a devious swipe at her clothed cunt. “I’m going to ruin you, baby.”
“Caleb,” she sighs airily, wriggling her hips to get closer. He holds her in place, though, one hand gripping her waist as he kneels down in between her legs. He rubs at her clothed clit and she throws her head back, biting down a moan.
“Don’t go quiet on me now, baby. You’ve done more than enough of that tonight, don’t you think?” She feels the sting of guilt creep back into her chest, contorting with her stirring arousal. But she can’t say anything; her mind blanks as he presses a chaste kiss on the damp fabric. “Answer me, baby.”
“Yes. Yes, I’m sorry, Caleb.” He doesn’t respond; instead he pulls her panties to the side and thumbs over her sensitive flesh.
“You’re already so wet, baby,” he murmurs, leaning in to press another kiss at her sex. She swallows and leans back onto her elbows. Despite her squirms, she can’t get any closer. He won’t let her. “Gonna use my fingers to stretch you out, okay?”
She nods frantically even though he can’t see her, her whimpers breaking through her clenched teeth. He uses his thumb to part her sex, sliding it gently up and down her sticky opening. Just when he thinks he has to use his evol to stop the writhing of her hips, he slides a finger into her, and she shudders. Compared to her own, Caleb’s fingers are thicker, longer. Warmer, even. He starts a slow, even pace. But even he knows she can take more with the state of her dripping cunt.
“Gonna add another, okay?”
She nods again.
“Please, yes.” Her words are just as shaky as her breath. She’s backed so far up onto the counter that her shoulders and head rest on the mirror. It’s freezing compared to the blaze between her legs.
As he slides a second finger in, he wraps his mouth around her clit, sucking harshly. She almost cums right there, lurching forward.
“Caleb!” When the shock dissolves, she leans back down against the mirror, writhing against his tongue. His fingers are still gentle and slow. But his tongue is fierce, nudging at her most sensitive part with the tip of his tongue. She can see him growing restless beneath her, faintly mimicking her squirm. The hand on her waist presses into her harshly for a second before he soothes the area with his thumb.
“Gonna let you go now. Don’t move.” His voice is gentle, but firm. He looks up at her, mouth still on her cunt, and she feels something sinister stir in her stomach. She gives him a weak nod and mouths an ‘okay’.
His hand leaves her shakily, then travels down to his own pants as he begins palming himself. She almost rolls her hips in pleasure but his piercing gaze holds her in place. His pace on his cock is rough yet slow, matching the thrusts of his fingers. Milky fluid is dripping down to his wrist, threatening to drop and stain his pants. He can’t care less, though. Not when he’s the one making her feel this good.
“Caleb!” She can’t stop her squirms anymore, hand grabbing tufts of his hair and pulling him away to no avail. “Stop! I’m gonna come!” The moans falling from her mouth do nothing to deter him.
“Do it,” he says, sucking more harshly. He slips a third finger in and she lurches forward, using her other hand to brace herself on his shoulder. She shakes her head, the sting of tears brimming at her eyelids.
“Don’t wanna.” She groans and her thighs try to clamp shut around him. “Wanna come on your cock. Please, please, Caleb.” His eyes snap up to hers again, brows knitted sternly.
“Come,” he demands, “do it. On my fingers.”
Despite her begs and whines, he doesn’t give her a choice. His fingers never slow, pushing and pulling against her pulsing walls until she can no longer hold it in. She orgasms with an open mouthed whine, thighs cramping in an exhaustive shake around his head. His fingers continue their slow drag through her high, letting her ride out the intensity. A single tear has spilled from her eye, traversing the curve of her flushed cheek. She slumps back down against the mirror, elbows just strong enough to support her body.
“Good girl,” he says quickly, standing up and leaning down over her. He lifts her chin and looks over her, eyes searching hers. He kisses the stray tear gently; and it disappears into the mix of come and fluids on his tongue.
Despite the pulsing of her swollen cunt, when she sees his hands unbuckle his belt, she can feel the slick in her start to build up again. She sucks in a few quick breaths, sitting up and reaching forward. She beckons him down and he obeys, letting her kiss frantic, breathless kisses along his neck, leaving coral lipstick marks in their wake. His fingers almost fumble with the belt, yanking it off and throwing it to the floor. They work messily on his zipper before pulling down his trousers to his ankles and kicking them off. Before he can steady himself, her hands are already tugging at the waistband of his briefs.
“So fucking needy,” he breathes into her, mouth ghosting her hair. Once his briefs are off, he gives himself a few slow, wide strokes. His inhale is shaky. Precum is leaking out of his tip and dripping down its veiny length. “Want me to fuck you, baby?”
“Yes,” she says immediately, shimmying closer. Her breath hitches as he presses the tip at her sex, stroking slowly up and down the puffy opening. “Yes, I want you to fuck me. Please, Caleb.” She can see how strongly her pleas affect him in the way his cock twitches. In the way the muscles in his arms tighten. And in the way his jaw tenses at her every whine.
The sticky fluids from her orgasm gather at the tip of his cock and he rubs it over her flesh like a lubricant. When neither of them can take anymore, he presses forward, pushing into her cunt inch by inch. The girth makes her shudder and moan out into the hot air between them. She can feel him filling her out completely, taking every last barrier between them down until he occupies every nook and cranny of her conscience.
“Oh fuck,” she whines, clenching her eyes shut. He starts moving, fucking her shallowly with half his cock. Working his way further and further into her as she loosens around him. He watches her expressions, each little contortion as he fucks her. Slowing and pulling back when he thinks she might cry out. The first stretch is always overwhelming, but he navigates her physical boundaries until she fully relaxes in his hold. He gives her a gentle kiss on her forehead and she smiles up at him despite her glassy eyes. Her winged eyeliner is smudged across her cheekbones. And her natural flush outdoes the pink blush. She gasps up at him, gesturing for him to keep going.
He begins thrusting into her fully, deeply with his entire cock, and her ears redden at the squelch. His pace is slow but rough, and it pushes her up further and further on the counter until her back is pressed against the mirror. She can only brace her hands against his arms locked on either side of her, nails digging into his biceps. She can feel every drag of his cock along her walls. Every ridge and curve as he fills her up slowly. Almost at a teasing pace.
“Waited all night for you.” He’s bringing this up again now. “While you were out, all pretty for someone else.” He gives her a sharp thrust and she whimpers, eyes falling shut. As she loses herself in the darkness, focusing on nothing but the feeling of his cock pushing in and out of her, she feels his knuckles brush along her cheek.
“Eyes on me, baby.”
It’s a struggle to keep her eyes open and fixed on his piercing gaze, but he doesn’t take no for an answer.
“Caleb,” she moans, blinking frantically to keep herself from slipping. She feels so, so full. And with each delicious push of his cock into her, he rubs against her sensitive, spongy tissue. She can feel her slick slipping out, can hear it even with each embarrassing squelch as his dick pushes through it.
“Couldn’t even message me back-” he lands another forceful thrust, “because you were too occupied with whatever you were doing.” His pace has quickened now; and his knuckles are white against the counter as he braces himself. “Fuck, you’re so tight.”
“I said I’m sorry,” she cries out, holding onto him for dear life.
“For what?” He bites at her neck, harshly, then soothes over the area with his tongue. “What are you sorry for?” She gasps as he pulls her to the edge of the counter, forcing her legs wider to accommodate his hips.
“I’m…I-” Her mind is going delirious with every thrust, lips biting into her swollen lips as he pushes her closer and closer towards release. “Wait,” she gasps, plating her palm against his chest. “It’s getting all over the dress.” Their combined slick has dribbled down the swell of her ass, spilling onto the counter and staining the ruffles of her dress.
Caleb barks a laugh, slowing his rut. He pulls out but he can’t stop the gush of arousal that seeps out of her sex and onto the fabric. He lifts her to her feet, steadying her for a second in her wooziness, and presses a kiss to her forehead.
“Want me to take it off, yeah?” His fingers pull at the ribbon and loosen the corset until it all but slips off her chest. He tugs the fabric down her hips harshly through her ‘uh huh’s and helps her step out of the pile of fabric. He kicks it out of the way much to her dismay. “Don’t worry. We’ll get it dry cleaned before you return it,” he snarls in her ear, biting at the skin.
Pushing her away from the counter and against the wall, he wraps her thigh around his waist. His lips work their way across her collarbone, sucking harshly at the flushed skin. She mewls into his ear, wrapping her arms around his neck tightly as he lifts her around him.
“Want it just like this, yeah?” His nose nudges into her cheek at their proximity and he lines his cock back up with her messy sex. She’s pulsing. Being carried like this, having his flexed biceps all over her, she can almost feel her come at the brink of release. As she breathes in him, she catches a glimpse of the two of them in the mirror and almost moans. He’s so fucking huge, covering her entire torso. She can see her legs, wrapped neatly around him, and her heels digging into the flesh just above his ass. She swallows, a guilty flush encasing her face, and hides her face in the crook of his neck.
Caleb slides his cock back into her, the red, angry tip swallowed in murky white release.
“Now, tell me what you’re sorry for.” The sheer power of his thrusts causes him to push her back against the wall for support. She gasps and warbles into him, nipping intermittently at his lipstick stained neck.
“I’m sorry for ignoring you. For not--mmph--checking my phone and making you--oh my god--making you worry.” The tears she has been so strong in restraining finally break. Inky globes roll down her cheek as her mascara runs. He watches her, bewitched by the way she looks so messy. So used and broken as she cries out his name. He thrusts into her harder. And she looks so pretty, he thinks, as fresh, hot tears run down her cheeks. Smearing her eyeshadow and liner until its nothing but a splatter of marks under her waterline. Her tears carve away at her foundation, leaving streaky beige stains down to her chin. And it feels so good. She feels so fucking full of him.
“Talk to me, baby,” he presses, kissing her brow.
“Mmhm,” she moans, head thrown back. “Feels so good. I just feel you.”
Her eyes can’t help but be pulled to the mirror, watching as he flexes his ass with each slam into her. She experiments with dragging her nails down his back, eyes widening as he convulses. Gasping as he pushes more roughly into her, fucking her ruthlessly against the wall. She can no longer hide her fixation, the dirty, sinister churning in her gut as she moans brokenly at the erotic image before her.
“What are you looking at?” His eyes widen for only a split second, like he can’t believe this is what’s got her clamping down on his cock every few seconds. He turns his head slightly and meets her pornographic expression in the mirror. Her eyes are half lidded and her mouth is parted. Her tongue drags lazily over her teeth with each rise and fall of her chest.
“You like watching, baby?” He watches as she breaks even further around his harsh thrusts. The smell of sex clouds her vision, fogs her conscience so much that she can only nod. “Like seeing yourself get fucked?”
He drags his thick cock out to the tip then slides back in, torturously slow. He does this a few times, angling and propping her up in such a way so that she sees the curve of his hard cock disappearing into her messy cunt.
“Go faster,” she pleads, unable to take her eyes away from it.
“You’re such a dirty girl, getting off on this. I had no idea you were such a lewd, filthy girl.” She cries out as she feels the spurt of her release rush to her core. This isn’t how she wants to come. Not when he’s being so slow and teasing. But she can’t help it. Can’t hold it in as she turns to mush in his arms. Her release squirts up onto his torso, soaking his skin in murky white fluids. She watches as rings of white, sticky cum gather at the base of his cock. And when he pushes too close, reaches all the way to her bruised cervix, her cum smears over her swollen sex.
“It feels so good,” she moans, wrapping her hands around his wrists tightly as he settles her down. Her legs are so shaky, and she can hardly support her weight.
“Not done with you yet,” he says, planting kisses on the top of her head. He guides her towards the counter, letting her brace herself against the cool marble, and coaxes her jaw up. “Look how messy you are, baby. So fucking beautiful for me like this.” He holds her chin between his fingers and watches her though the mirror as he plants kisses along her shoulder. Truly, her makeup is ruined. Her cheeks are wet and sticky. And her breasts are swollen, jiggling slightly as he grinds against her.
“Caleb,” she sighs, hanging her head low. Her arms are shaky, and each grind pushes her hips uncomfortably into the edge of the counter. Yet despite her exhaustive state her pussy is still pulsing for more. Seeing him behind her, almost engulfing her, makes her walls twitch and convulse. She bites her lip in embarrassment. “Wanna keep going…want you to cum in me.” She says this to spur him on. Knows that she’s biting off more than she can chew, but she doesn’t care. She reaches behind her and strokes his cock shallowly, guiding him towards her heat again.
He presses his hands against the counter’s edge where her hips meet, cushioning the blows as he bucks into her. His cock is so pent up and strained; and it swells up as she clamps down harshly on him. He’s not going to last long. Especially not now when he has a full view of her swollen breasts in the mirror, jerking with his every thrust. He desperately wants to tug at the plush flesh, bite at her nipples, even just wrap his tongue around it. But his hands are rendered immobile on the counter, and her comfort is prioritised above all else. Instead, he settles for biting into her shoulder and sucking the skin harshly. She can’t help the moans that spill out of her lips, hoarse and ragged. The particular angle of him rutting into her from behind is breaking her mind into pieces. She can feel him in her gut, fuck, she can hardly keep up as he knocks the breath out of her.
“Do you hear yourself?” Comes his taunting voice. Each moan sends a pulse straight to his cock. “Fuck, can you even think?” She manages to shake her head through her tears. She looks absolutely ruined.
“Feel so fucking mmph--feel so good.” She feels her release gush out of her without warning, splattering over his thighs and the floor. She’s never felt so sensitive in her life than she does now as he takes on a bruising pace towards the finish line. He’s breathing out so heavily into her air, groaning and whining her name. And she can only egg him on, crying out for his release. Demanding to be filled up.
His cock hardly leaves her cunt as he tries to push further in and in, balls flush against her ass. She feels him twitch before his warm come floods into her. It’s sticky and hot, and suddenly there’s a ringing in her ears. The feeling of being full, really full, has her gasping out against the mirror, body thrown over the counter. Her cunt is so sensitive, every trivial little shift of his body sets off another moan. Caleb slumps over her, careful not to lean his entire weight on her. He wraps his arms around her and lets her head rest back against his shoulder.
“Don’t pull out yet,” she mumbles, eyes closed.
“Don’t worry,” he coos, rubbing over her hips soothingly. “I’m not going anywhere.” She knows as soon as he pulls out, their mixed come is going everywhere. They stay there for a few minutes, the frantic rise and fall of their chests plateauing out into slow, even breaths.
“Are you okay, baby? I know I was rough with you.” She hums, the fog in her mind slowly clearing.
“I’m okay.” Regaining control over her body, she reaches up and strokes his arm. “That felt really, really good.”
“Yeah?” He kisses at her jaw. “Gonna clean you up now, okay?” She nods. “But,” he gives her a once over, pursing his lips, “I’m gonna have to pull out. Is that okay, baby?” She braces herself before giving another nod.
“Yeah, you can pull out. But, gently, please.” Upon her approval, he eases his cock out slowly, and sure enough, white fluid trickles out of her cunt and down her legs. She lets out a gasp at the heightened sensitivity of feeling so empty.
Caleb scoops her up and sits her back atop the counter. She leans against the mirror with a shy smile, watching him fiddle with the bottles beside her. He flips the cap of her makeup remover and lets some seep out onto a cotton pad.
“My beautiful girl.” He grins down at her, wiping gently across her cheeks. Blushing, she reaches up and brushes aside the hair falling into his eyes. His hair is damp now, seeped with sweat.
“My sweet, doting Caleb,” she echoes teasingly. He only laughs, getting a fresh wipe. He tips her jaw up slightly, dabbing cautiously around her waterline.
“Close your eyes for me, baby.” She does as she’s told, and feels the cold wipe on her skin. He takes extra care around her lashes and the corners of her eyes. When he’s done he leans back and tosses the used wipes in the bin.
When she opens her eyes, he’s holding out a jar in front of her.
“Want to use your cleanser now? Or after a shower, baby?” She giggles, chest filling with warmth.
“You can use it now.” He nods, twisting open the cleansing balm and taking a decent scoop out. Before he can set it down, she takes it, dipping her own fingers in.
“What,” he says through a laugh, “you’re gonna clean me up too?”
“Of course, dummy,” she quips, smoothing the balm between her hands. Once the balm is more pliable, she applies it evenly over his face. She rubs it into his skin with gentle, circular motions. “Like this,” she hums, the corners of her lips curling up into a smile. He watches, eyes rounded and gleaming in awe, and then he follows her direction, spreading the balm over her soft skin. Their arms brush against each other in their proximity.
As they settle into silence, she bites her lip.
“I really didn’t mean to make you worry, Caleb.” He looks up at her, fingers slowing down. She stays focused, though, smoothing the balm over his forehead. “I should’ve let you know I was going out.”
“Don’t stress about it now, baby. You’re here now, right?” He kisses the top of her head. “That’s all that matters.”
“I made you stay up late,” she says. She reaches over to the sink, letting the water run over her hands. Guiding him closer, she begins wiping the balm off then rinsing it down the sink.
“It’s nothing,” he reassures her. “Baby, don’t keep dwelling on it. It won’t happen again, right?” She shakes her head. “Then that’s all I need to know. I trust you.”
She stays still as he begins washing the balm off her face as well.
“Do you have to get up early tomorrow? It’s almost three…” He only shakes his head.
“Tomorrow’s Saturday, baby. I’m all yours.” He pauses. “Well, technically, it is tomorrow.” She mirrors his grin, leaning down and capturing his lips. It’s gentle and slow.
He pulls away first, taking her arms and guiding her down off the counter.
“Come on, gotta shower first before you fall asleep on me.”
Okay, i wrote this ages ago and this was supposed to be part 2 of a Sylus fic where he does your makeup . lord give me the strength to finish it.
bruh when the deceptive solitude artwork came out, best believe i was fucking FROTHING at the mouth
he's quieter around camp now. less of those sharp-tongued quips that usually flow so easily. he catches himself staring at her when she's not looking, then quickly glances away like he's been caught doing something wrong.
his feeding has become reverent instead of ravenous. he hesitates now, asks if she’s sure, presses a soft kiss to the pulse before he bites.
he seeks her approval in ways that have nothing to do with seduction. when he makes decisions, his eyes find hers first. her good opinion has become as essential as blood.
and now during fights, he’s reckless with his own safety now, throwing himself between her and harm without thinking. “i can handle myself, you know,” she’d say, crossing her arms.
“i know darling…” he trails off, staring at his hands. he doesn't understand why he did it either. the thought of that blade finding her skin had sent him into a panic he couldn't name.
she doesn't know why, of course. he barely knows himself. but he has a hunch, and it terrifies him.
he doesn't know when it started—somewhere between her asking "did you rest well?" and the way she bandages his wounds tenderly—but now when she looks at him, really looks at him, his dead heart does this stupid fluttering thing.
when she brushes against him, her warmth doesn't just touch his skin. it goes deeper. settles in places he'd forgotten existed, places that ache with want that has nothing to do with feeding or fucking or getting what he needs to survive.
maybe it's because she cares. actually cares, not the fake concern people use when they want something. she shows it in the small things: "you seem tired today." "i saved you some of the good wine." "the stars are beautiful tonight, aren't they?"
to someone who hasn't experienced genuine affection in two hundred years, these little moments feel like everything.
the nights when her tent flap opens for him now, everything is different. he moves differently. less performance, less of that practiced charm he's perfected over decades. he's gentler with her, almost hesitant. his hands linger on her face before he kisses her, and she looks at him like he's something precious instead of dangerous.
he takes his time now. when he peels away her clothes, he does it slow, reverent. each kiss tastes like honey and guilt because he knows—fuck, he knows—that he started this as a lie.
the pleasure is overwhelming now. more intense than anything he's felt in centuries because it's real. when she arches beneath him, when she whispers his name like a prayer, it threatens to break him completely. he's louder now, lets himself feel everything instead of just doing what was necessary to play the part.
but with every touch, every breath, the guilt eats at him. this isn't the calculated seduction he'd planned. this isn't using her for protection. this is something else entirely, something that feels too much like love and too much like betrayal.
she trusts him. opens herself to him completely, and he built this on a lie.
after, when they're tangled together, he holds her tighter than he should. she fits against him perfectly, her head on his chest where his heart should be beating if he were still alive. if he were still worthy of this.
"what's wrong?" she asks, voice soft. her fingers trace patterns on his skin, and there's concern in her voice. she’s noticing.
"nothing," he lies. his fingers find her hair, thread through it like the motion might calm the storm in his chest.
"you're different tonight. quieter."
different. if she only knew. if she only knew the man she's falling for was built on deception. that every tender moment between them started as manipulation.
"i'm just thinking," he says.
she doesn't push, she never does. just settles deeper against him, breathing slowing as sleep pulls her under.
he stays awake long after she's asleep, studying her face in the candlelight. the way her lashes cast shadows on her cheeks. her lips, slightly parted. the complete vulnerability written in every line of her body.
she trusts him enough to sleep in his arms, and the weight of it is crushing. how naïve. she doesn't know he'd originally planned to use her. doesn't know every sweet word in those early days had been calculated, how it was all for his benefit.
but somewhere along the way, the performance became real.
two centuries of survival instincts stand off with something newer, invasive almost. something that makes his chest ache. something that whispers maybe he could be worthy of the love he sees in her eyes.
the realization hits him like dawn breaking as he lay with her, now noticing he stayed all night. feeling the rhythm of her breathing as she slept in his arms, how warm she was against his cool skin. how she trusts him.
he loves her.
the thought should terrify him. instead, it settles into his bones like coming home. he loves her. not just her body, not just what she can do for him, but her. her kindness. her strength that never comes at the cost of gentleness. her trust that she gives freely, even to broken things like him.
✎A/N; here it is babes!! sowwryyy for the eternal waittt! CALEB'S IS SOOO LONG OMG IDK WHAT HAPPEND Y'ALL!!! Regardless, rlly hope ur enjoying it^^ xoxo
SYNOPSIS. Requested by anon ↳ ❝ [..."YOUR WRITING IS DELECTABLE OMG. I was wondering if you’d ever consider writing the lads men with a reader who is insatiable/has a high sex drive and/or ovulating and has her way with him until he’s completely worn out/begging to take a break 🫠" ] ¡! ❞
TAGS. NSFW CONTENT. MDNI! MARATHON S€X!!!! breeding. size k!nk unprotected intercourse. dirty talk. gripping their a$$, oh em gee dirty mouth zayne??!!. prone bone in Xav's. doggy. ur insatiable lmao, overstim, riding, begging. slight dumbification in sum. messyyy s€x. Caleb matching your freak(per usual). lotsss of spit and drool. oral (f & m receiving in caleb's), possessive guys. multiple positions.
ꪆৎ RAFAYEL
Your thighs are soaked and if you could, you'd feel embarrassed right now.
But that thought barely registers over the raw heat twisting in your belly. It's just the way Rafayel's broken moans and his hands trembling on your hips as you ride him that remind you just how much of a mess you are.
"Drippin' alllll over me, cutie," The wrecked gasp makes your pussy only embrace his cock in a snug hug, his grip on your hip tightening. "D-don't ya wanna take a lil break?— F-fuckkkk. M'—"
"N-nooooo, Raf'."
God, you're gonna be the death of him.
He's already at his wit's end, his spent cock barely holding onto the vicious grip of your greedy pussy. But once he heared your protesting whine over the obnonxious wet squelch squelch squelches of your sobbing cunt, he can feel his cock throbbing hard.
Your eyes meet the far back of your skull as you feel his girth swell, streeeetching your walls apart again so good.
"Don't wanna stop. Feels sooooo good, baby." The shy smile twitching up your plump lips is a stark contast to your ruthless hips slamming down onto his pelvis, and even though his dick is sweeling so angry he fears he might explode, he's still going to eat it up like he does every single time.
"Ohh-kay, cutie. G-gonna— gonna give my baby what she wants."
A strangled sound rips from his lungs as your walls clench around him again, cock twitching so frenzied inside you, glistening with your mixed juices, and so spent but still so ravenous to ram into you, deep.
He's flushed deep red now, your hands almost slipping from his sweat-slicked chest, coral locs sticking to his temple where he lies beneath you in a daze.
"Pretty." You spurt out, heat flooding your body as you take his face in hand, running your shaking flinger over his quivering, kiss-bitten lips. "You look so pretty Raf. Want— no need to—"
"F-fuck, baby, yer' gonna milk me dry," he chokes out, voice breaking on a whimper.
Oh, he's not lasting for long.
His eyes roll back as your walls clamp down on him again, fluttering so tight, so wet, it feels like your body's trying to wring every last drop out of him.
And you do.
Your hands slam down on his chest now, grinding down with reckless, mindless need. "Y-yes." you sweet growl, makes the hair on his neck stand up, teeth caging his lip. "Need you to fill me up, Raf. Need it sososo bad— hurts, it hurts!"
You bounce harder, thighs quivering, the obscene squelch of your slick echoing through the room with every punishing slam of your hips. His cock twitches inside you, overstimulated and swollen, flushed an angry red from how many times he's already shot his load into you, but your greedy cunt just won't let him go.
It’s damn near deafening—the relentless thwack, thwack, thwack of your ass slamming down onto his thighs.
The sound is soaked in slick, each impact wetter than the last. His spent, hot and thick cum already spilling out of you from your insatiable hunger, sticking messily to the insides of your thighs and the curve of your ass, smearing with every bounce, making everything sticky and so much worse.
“God, you're—fuck—you're making a mess of me, cutie," he gasps, clutching your waist like a lifeline, trying to slow you down, but your body has other plans. Your selfish walls tighten around him like a vice, milking his angry, flushed tip for every squirting spurt from his slit.
"I need you to cum again. Please," you cry out, grinding down deep, his cockhead kissing your cervix with each brutal drop of yours. "Wan' your cum, Raf! Need ya to fill me up again, wanna be stuffed, baby. Can't—nghhh!—can't stop until you breed me."
"Breed you?"
The sound he lets out is downright animalistic, his hips snapping up with brutal force, matching your pace with a ferocity that makes your eyes roll back. "Fuckin insatiable. Already dripping and it's still not enough, h-hahh?" He's fucking up into you now, ironclap grip on your hips surely leaving marks as your body jolts and falls ontop of his, your restless hips twisting and twitching against his brutal thrusts.
"G-gonna pump your greedy fucking pussy so full— o-ohhh, yeahhh."
You whimper is so high-pitched you barely recognize yourself anymore, body convulsing as your climax rips through you, and even in your haze you don't stop. You keep clenching, desperate to squeeze another load from his overstimulated, twitching cock.
He's babbling now, lost in it, eyes glazed and teeth clenched so tight he might break his jaw. "Ohhh, it's comin, m' cummin' take it take it take—"
"Mhmmm, give it ta me, Raf! Allll of it, one more, pleaseeee!"
At that, his slit spurts one last whispy load of cum into the depth of your pussy, and you grind happily down onto him to make it stay there, deep inside of you, humming in delight at the warmth flooding through you.
And as he feels your fluttering walls clench around him again, your hips slowly grinding down again, his head falls back against the sheets, a raw, desperate whimper escaping his throat.
Your walls clamp around him fiercely, squeezing so tight, demanding more.
He can't. He can't he can't he—
His hands dig into your ass, lifting you higher, up, up, up— until his cum seeps from your spent, dripping heat, a pleased sigh following suit.
But then your eyes meet his, wide and pleading, and your hands wrap around his slick, spent cock, fingers trembling as they stroke him, coated in his own mess.
Well, he can surely take—
"One more, please?"
Right?
ꪆৎ CALEB
Hot.
The only word to describe your feelings right now, because it has you wound up so tight, you're trembling. You think you might explode if you're sweet, teasing boyfriend won't fill you up this very moment.
But the way Caleb's looking at you in the mirror, he might beat you to it.
"You feel it too, don't you, Cay'?" you whisper, rocking your ass back against the bulge straining so painfully in his grey sweats.
They cling to him, snug and low on his hips, almost too tight. His bare chest is fully exposed, every cut of muscle gleaming under the low light of the room, your squirming shadow dancing over his skin and reflecting off the mirror.
His grin is sharp, eyes burning with hunger, preying over you through the mirror, a palm pressing to your lower belly, just below the waistband of your panties.
"Feel it? Baby, I smell it."
His voice is a growl against your skin, lips dragging slow and wet down the curve of your neck. He breathes you in, tongue flicking out to lick a long stripe from your neck all the way to the shell of your ear. "You're soaked."
You whimper as he rolls his hips, grinding his aching cock into you, still hidden beneath the fabric of his boxers. His other hand cups your throat from behind, guiding your gaze back to the mirror.
"Look."
You do.
"O-oh."
It's fucking obscene.
Your panties are halfway down your thighs, your legs shaking as you brace yourself against the dresser, your boyfriend's bare chest pressed to your back, hand tightening against your throat, almost daring you to look away.
Burning. Every fieber of your being is burning up, screaming at every slight touch of him. The faintest brush of his fingers against your skin sends you twitching.
A needy whimper slips out as you feel the thick press of his bulge grinding against your ass. You arch and roll your hips back into him, shamelessly, pleading without words, silently begging him to do something— anything, to ease this ache between your thighs before you actually go insane.
"In all these years together," he murmurs against your ear, voice low and dangerous. "I've never seen you like this, pips'. What's got you so hot and bothered tonight?"
You meet his eyes in the mirror before tearing them down to his fingers tugging at the hem of your panties.
"It's y-your fault. All because of—"
"Me?" His grip tightens, voice a whisper against your ear in surprise.
"Mhmmm."
"Hm. Can't have my baby all pouty now, can I?"
He whirls you around in one fluid motion, effortlessly scooping you up and tossing you onto the bed
Fuck that damned mirror, he wants the real thing.
He rips your panties the rest of the way off, strong biceps pushing your legs apart, groaning low in his throat at the sight of your weeping cunny, screaming for his attention.
"Oh fuckkk," he mutters, eyes wild and flickering between your glisterning pussy up to your flustered face. "T-this is—" he pauses, finger swiping through your folds to collect your slick, dick jumping in his pants as he sees your hole clenching around nothing, juices dripping in the process, "—heaven."
You whimper as he dips down to lick a stripe up your inner thigh, hot breath ghosting over your pussy. You could damn near scream from his endles teasing, damn near crying as your hips buck up towards his face with a frustrated groan. "N-no teasin'! Please, pleasepleaseplease—"
"Hush, baby. It's her turn now."
Before you can even think of quirking your eyebrows in question he's already burying his face between your thighs, and you let out a scream.
His tongue is fucking relentless, flicking the muscle over your clit with cruel precision before loooong drags collect your juices, his adam's apple bobbing as he's slurping up every drop.
It's like he's starving, and well, maybe he actually is.
His hot tongue circles your puffy button slow just to watch you twitch, then sucks it between his lips with so much force that your legs threathen to clamp around his head.
Until you actually do.
Thighs locking his head in place, your hands scrambling through his hair. He groans against your pussy, the sound feral, almost a whimper, sending vibrations straight through your core. Your fingers scramble through his thick brown locs, tangling and twisting until you're yanking them hard from the roots.
"Yeahhh, use me, baby. C'mon."
His rambles dissapear into your pussy, responding moan so filthy and needy. He could get used to this new neediness of yours.
God, he loves this.
He wraps his arms tighter around your thighs, locking you in place, and whining into your pussy like he's gone mad.
"Just like that, Cay'! Nghhh! don't stop, soooo good!"
Yeah, he's gone mad.
And you? You're gone.
Drooling, rutting your hips into his mouth without a shred of shame. Your body moves on instinct now, so lost in the pleasure that your eyes flutter shut, tummy sucking in as you feel yourself nearing your release.
Slurp, slurp, slurps fill the room and it's so messy— your juices coating the lower half of his face, some bleeding into the sheets below.
He glances up, pulling back just enough, and fuck, what a sight.
Your eyes glisten with unshed tears, wide and glassy pupils blown. A firm drip of drool escapes the corner of your mouth, tracing a long line down your chin. You sniffle softly, nose red and a thin sheen of sweat clings to your skin.
"My poor, poor baby."
The soft tone of his voice is a stark betrayal of what his mouth is doing to you.
His tongue is merciless, flicking and lapping at your folds with so much persicion, every lick calculated to push you further towards your limits.
He latches onto your clit with a groan, sucking hard, your thighs seizing up around his head in a headlock. Your fingers claw uselessly at the sheets, legs kicking, entire body coiled tight.
"G-god, Caleb! So good, don't stop, don't—"
Right then, your orgasm crashes over you with so much force, your head digs back into the matress. Your hips buck up wildly, unable to process the sudden pleasure washing over you, and your sweet, loving boyfriend licks you through it.
He just keeps going, keeps tasting you, even as your thighs shake and you try to twist away from from him, his wet hot tongue overwhelming you.
It's so much, too much, but still, you want—
"M-moreee! Wan' more! Need to—"
Smack!
The sharp sudden sting hits your soaked pussy before you can finish the sentence, palm cracking against your sensitive folds with a wet slap. You let out a loud, broken cry, your head twisting against the pillow as your thighs clamp together on instinct.
"No worries. Gonna give it to ya'."
Only then does he spread you open with both hands, thumbs dragging your slick folds apart to admire the way you twitch and throb. And only then does he finally pull back, tongue slipping out to taste you one last time, his chin and lips soaked, glistening with your juices.
He stays like that, lower face shining in your essance, to lazy to even bother wiping it away as his eyes lock onto you, pupils darkening.
And as he sees your hungry gaze he silently thanks the whole damn universe for your sudden neediness today.
Fucking finally a time for his inner freak to shine.
You're already moving before he says a word, scrambling weakly up onto your knees, hands clutching at his waistband like a woman possessed.
And maybe you are.
"Hurryyyyyy," you whimper, dragging the word out through a long sob. "P-please, baby! Pleaseeee, I want— Need you in me right now."
Oh, how impatient you are.
Eagerly, he shoves his sweats down and kicks them off, cock already flushed and leaking from the torture. He doesn't dare to tease, already climbing ontop of you to grab your hips, and drives into you in one deep thrust.
The stretch is so sharp and overwhelming that you scream out, white-hot blaze overcoming you.
Your walls clamp down around him so fiercely he groans, his pre squirting out with urgency, head falling back, eyes rolling shut.
He underestimated you.
"H-holy shit, baby—so damn tight— h-hahhh!"
You're already back into your drunken daze, meeting his thrusts as your heat-addled clit grinds against his faint brown trail of hair.
"Harder," you pant, nails clawing at his shoulders, his strong arms quick to lift your legs onto his shoulders, hitting your g-spot over and over again.
But it's not enough.
"I said hahhh-harder, Caleb—"
He growls, pushing your legs firmly against your shoulders, your legs dangling above your head as he slams into you faster now, rougher. Unrelenting. His hands dig into the flesh of your thighs, the new position causing your muscles to burn from the stretch, and every thrust hits you so deep, fat tip kissing your cervix, your vision blurs.
"Not gonna last," he blurts out, mouth covered in your slick now attacking yours, diving in as if your mouth would grant him air. "You're too fucking—shit! Toooo good—"
He's going to be the death of you.
"C-cum inside, baby." you moan, hands griping his shoulders, biceps, hips, anything to make him ram into your greddy cunny faster, longing for him to prod at your womb. "Need your cum, baby. F-fill me— uhhh! up!"
His balls tighten, almost painfully so, mouth hanging open as drool drips down, right into your awating mouth and he just know this isn't going to be the last load for him tonight.
He knocks the breath out of you with a brutal push of his hips, his girth hauling your walls further apart as his fat mushroomy head throbs, close, soooo close to fill you to the brim.
"A-alright, pips. Anything for my needy princess."
You're going to be the death of him.
ꪆৎ SYLUS
You're trembling, knees straddling Sylus's broad hips, riding him like your entire body burns with desperate need. His hands grip your thighs, trying to ground you, get you to slow down, but it's already to late.
"Gods," he groans, voice hoarse, on the brink of cracking. His dark, ruby eyes in search of yours and you swear he grows even larger inside you as your eyes lock. "You're killing me here, sweetie."
"M' sorry, Sy. Can't stop, can't—"
His lips crash down onto yours, muffling your pleas with a desperate kiss. His strong hands tighten on your hips, pulling you impossibly closer, every thrust deeper and more urgent than the last.
"You don't have to," he murmurs against your mouth, voice thick with lust, ruby eyes eating you alive. "Have me. Use me."
He's done it now.
You grind down harder, hips snapping desperately against him, breath uneven and broken. And every frantic roll of yours pulls a low growl from his throat, his girthy length pulsating inside your gooey walls.
His hefty cock draaags along every sensitive nerve inside you, thick and heavy, stretching your weeping walls to their limit and you swear he gets harder with every needy rut you throw at him.
"Honey, I don't think I can—"
His jaw clenches tightly, teeth grazing his bottom lip as he struggles to maintain his composure. His head sinks into the sheets, gray hair forming a halo around his head as cheery eyes flutter before snapping back to yours, pupils blown wide.
"Y-you're so— sooo"
"Hmm? M' what, Sy'?"
You whimper, grinding down until he's pressed so deep you can feel him bulging inside your lower belly, leaving a visible imprint of himself there.
And It's only driving you further into insanity.
"You're gonna ruin me," he pants, voice thick with lust, a slight crack audible. "Ohhh, gonna fucking ruin me, sweetie. L-look at you."
You press your forehead against his, panting, your walls clench so tight you feel every vein and even the slight right curve of his girth.
Sylus's hands travel up your sides, grip ironclad, his thumbs digging into your ribs. His control is slipping, obvious in the way his dark ruby eyes widen, groan rumbling in his chest when you shift your weight and rock your hips harder against him.
He oggles at your eyes rolling to the back of your head, gripping your nape and pulling you down until his mouth meets yours agar, slamming his mouth against yours with such force, teeth and tongues clash.
"You're everything," he mutters against your lips, saliva connecting you both, voice cracking under the pressure. "So fucking perfect."
Your nails dig into his shoulders, breath hitching in desperate gasps in rythm to the bed creaking under you both as his hips jerk, matching your frantic rhythm.
"Keep going, love." He breaks into a grunt as your head falls into the crook of his neck, painting his ivory skin with bubbling drool.
"Thaaat's my girl."
There's nothing else inside your fucked out mind except for him him and more him.
Sylus. Sylus. Sylus.
Feisty hips bouncing on him, desperate to feel every inch, every frantic pulse, your walls fluttering, dragging Sylus closer to the edge with every desperate thrust.
And you notice from his deep groan, his parted lips aswell as his hands sliding under your arms, pulling you impossibly closer. His breath fans across your skin, heavy and ragged.
"You're driving me mad." He's a drooling mess himself now, thighs clenching as his balls tighten up, so damn close to filling your eager cunt up.
You lift your head before pathetically falling against his lips, saliva messily smearing all across his lower face.
He growls, hips snapping up with brutal force, obscenely loud and wet plap plap plap echoing the room, his grip on your hips tightening, his fingers digging in like you could dissapear if he ever dared to let go.
"I'm close" He moans shamelessly into your mouth now, burrying his cock deeper, reddened tip hitting your cervix with each of his bold jerks up into you. "So close."
"N-ghhh, me t-toooo!" you sob, words barely forming through your moans.
"Gonna cum! Gonna fucking cum, Sy! Pleaseee—"
Then he surges upright, wrapping one strong arm around your waist, the other sliding down to grip your ass with a loud smack! and slam you down on him, over and over until you're voice betrays you, wails and whimpers flooding out from your lips.
His cock drives up into you so deep your toes curl, hitting the same perfect spot again and again, robbing cries from your sobbing pussy.
Plap plap plap.
"Better hold on tight, sweetie."
He grabs your hips, slams up, and fucks you like he hates you. The bed shrieks, holding on for deat life as the headboard rattles against the walls and in these moments you're thankful you live in the N109-Zone with no neighbours.
"Yesyesyes! Js like that, Sy!"
There's a thick white ring of your slick forming at the base of his cock, clinging to him with every brutal thrust, and when he looks down and sees it, something snaps inside him.
He flips you onto your stomach, quickly slipping inside your addicting heat again, as if it pains him to not be inside your for any second longer. His cock slips back inside your dripping heat with a lewd twack! and the both of you groan, breath hitching in sync as he sinks in to the hilt for the nth time tonight.
Your back arches, panting against the pillow as your nails claw at the sheets, loud whail earning a breathless chuckle from man above.
"Please Sy! Need your cum s-so bad— need you to breed me."
He lets out a broken sound, somewhere between a gasp and a growl before burying himself deep with one last snap of his hips.
His body stiffens as his cock twitches and pulses inside you, flooding you with wave after wave of hot white cum. You clench down hard, milking him for what he's worth, moaning his name as your own orgasm hits like a shockwave, body trembling beneath his.
He stays pressed against you, breath harsh against your neck, hand splayed across your lower back to keep you right where he wants you, lewd squelch from your stuffed cunny letting out a broken whine. You twitch under him, drooling into the pillow, body still shaking from how hard you came.
"This heat's not out of you yet, is it?"
You shake your head with a weak cry, drooling against the pillow.
"Then," he muses, kissing the shell of your ear, slow and almost sweet,
"Best start picking out a new bed you want, sweetie."
ꪆৎ XAVIER
"It's little moments like these,"
he pants against your ear, "that remind you just how much more my sweet princess can take."
You're out of breath, slick and shaking from everything he's already wrung out of you, but he couldn't care less. He doesn't even want you to recover and catch your breath.
And he sure as hell doesn't let you.
He spins you around like youre a mere feather-weight, palms branding into your hips as he manhandles you onto the bed, chest down and ass up.
Your hands scramble for purchase, fingers knotting into the sheets just as you feel the blunt heat of his hefty length press between your thighs again, his cock smearing pre over the curve of your ass, coating it in a shining glee.
"Could get used to you being like this, you know," he hums, one slender finger tracing up your stomach before resting on one of your breasts, giving it a tight squeeze, "you loooove getting all cockdrunk and dumb on me, huh?"
"Mhmm! Love you! Love your—"
"Say it right."
His words pierce through just like his dick through past your puffy folds, tip curving right against the spot that has you mewling out, almost like a button being pressed.
A sharp smack! to your ass follows his firm words, soon rubbing soothingly over the reddened globe as his cock slides out, leaving only his tip cramped in your hole.
"L-love it when you fuck me dumb, Xav'! Love getting drunk on your cock! But p-please..."
Your hips jerk back, earning a growl from his as he inspects your greedy pussy engulfing half of his length now, eager to suck him back in whole.
"... Still not enough. Need more."
Your pleading whimpers are muffled against the pillow face first as he fully rams into you again, body firmly pressed against yours. His throbbing girth is fully nestled inside you, his light chuckle hot against your ear.
"Talking outta that greedy pussy again."
You bite your lip in shame or amusement, you don't know. Desperate and wild grinds of your hips move back against his, rutting hard with every agonizingly slow drag of his hips.
He slides in and out of you like butter, your previous squirts of juices and his thick hot cum creating the perfect lubricant.
It's filthy— the kind of slick, nasty glide that sends sparks through your overstimulated nerves. Every time he pulls back, a string of mixed fluids clings between your swollen folds and his soaked cock, glistening, connecting you to him like a leash. The wet schlik schlik schlik of it echoes in the room, punctuated only by your choked moans and the brutal slap of skin on skin.
You're so swollen, so stretched, your body clutching at him like he's your prey.
"Tight fuckin' thing," he snarls, hands gripping your waist, forming half moons with his nails on your skin. "Keep moving those hips for me, angel— o-oh fuckkkk! Don't stop."
You don't. You can't. Rutting back with abandon, desperate and so greedy, your hips roll and slam into his with haste. You can feel every throb of his cock inside you, feel it twitch and pulse as his rhythm grows savage.
Fuck, you could die like this— pressed neatly against the sheets with your beloved boyfriend rutting you deeper into the matress for the nth time tonight.
His pace turns feral, brutal, the whaming of his hips against your ass growing harder, meaner.
"Y-yes! Yes, Xav! Gimmie more baby," you pant, hands reaching back to grip at his ass, thigh, anything to make him plug deeper into you, your stuffed cunny shrieking and squeking with every of his brutal thrusts, "m-more."
"My pillow princess can't even think straight now, hmm?. She's doing the talking for you now, huh?"
You grind faster, rubbing your clit against the curve of his pelvis, breath hitching in shaky gasps. The way he holds you, the weight of him pressing into your back, makes you lose yourself completely— heat spilling over, body shaking with need.
"Greedy little hole doesn't wanna let me go," he hisses, panting harder now, fucking you through the clench, feeling your now god-knows which-one-orgasm aproach. "A-ahhhh, hear that? Oh yeah, so fucking loud, begging me to fill her up again."
No answer, you're just cumming, squirting against the sheets, orgasm hitting you like a punch in the gut and fuck— he surely is digging in it.
His hand wretch your head up by your neck now, ocean eyes drinking up your agape mouth, lolling out tongue and your fluttering eyes, biting his lip to keep him from cummin in you right then and—
Shit.
Xavier's voice catches in his throat. His head tips back, throat bared. His hands try to grip your waist, then fall limp beside you helplessly, falling right ontop of you as now faint whisps of cum spurt out, meekly adding to the previous buckets of cum resting in your flodded pussy.
And he's still hard.
Well, you don't seem to be satisfied either. Not with your desperate arches, trying to get him to move even though he's fully laying ontop of you, barely leaving you air to breathe.
"O-one more." you purr, one hand trailing down to lock his fingers with yours.
He twitches inside you weakly, shaky sigh escaping him and glassy eyes snapping open.
You still want more?
"You're killing me, princess."
You giggle against the pillow, low lidded eyes shooting him a smug grin, spit painted mouth glisterning.
"Good."
ꪆৎ ZAYNE
In what world could he've known that his sweet little wife could get like this?
Sure, he's always pliant to your needs, always does his best to grant your every wish, make you happy. He'd kiss your ankles if you asked, worship the ground you walked on with no shame at all.
You're his wife, after all. His one and only.
But this? This has his mind fucking reeling.
He's never, not once, seen you like this—wild-eyed and sweat-slicked, mouth parted in shameless moans as you grind yourself up into him with no sign of stopping. Your nails drag hot down his spine, then grip tight around his ass, pulling him into you, holding him there like he might even think to leave.
Like he could.
Zayne groans, loud and ragged, hips stuttering as your soaked, greedy cunt sucks him right back in every time he tries to pull out. You're milking him, clenching down; your body refusing to give him a moment's rest—and it's driving him insane.
"Not e-enough," you gasp, lips brushing the shell of his ear, voice so wrecked it makes his cock twitch inside you. "Need more. Wanna feel your cock deeeeep inside."
Well, he can't complain, to be honest.
"More?" he pants, almost incredulous. But the way he smiles, like he's so far gone on you it hurts says everything needed to be said. "Already fucked my darling wife dumb. Doesn't even know what nasty of a mouth she's got on her now."
You just moan, nodding that fucked-out little head of yours frantically, lips dragging across his throat as you rock your hips up again, taking him even deeper. He moans, losing his rhythm completely, slamming back into you with a helpless sound that borders on a whimper.
Your light chuckle sweels his heart—and cock. You kiss his cheek, sweet and breathless. "Yours, Zayne. All yours. Now give it ta' me."
You've done it now. You broke your poor husband's brain.
Before you can blink, he's flipped you over, your knees pressed into the mattress, arms trembling under your weight. You barely register the movement before his leaking tip is already forcing its way back in, sliding through your slick pussy.
He spanks you. Hard.
"You want more?"
"Oh fuckkk yes, I—!"
But he's not talking to you. His gazes falls directly down to your greedy cunny sucking him in, examining the mess that drip drip drips down your legs and onto the sheets.
"Want me to ruin my pretty wife, huh?"
He snarls at your snug cunny and takes the loud squelch! as an answer, bracing his hands on both of your ass cheeks, spreading you wiiiide to get a better view.
"Alright. Then take it, you nasty girl."
Skin slapping skin, his hips driving forward in brutal, punishing thrusts, fucking you with none of that usual sweetness of his. Just raw, filthy. You cry out, over and over, face buried in the sheets, hands clawing for purchase, head spinning with dizziness.
God, you're husband's out of this world. You're not even sure what you did to deserve a man like him.
"I'll take it, all of it!" you sob, hips pushing back to meet his every thrust. "Want it all, Zayne! W-wanna feel all hot and full inside—!"
He actually growls like some beast, ramming his cock damn near into your poor womb, and you scream when his hand snakes down and smacks your clit, a wet slap! followed by furious circles that make your thighs quake.
"You like that, don't you?" he growls, head falling to the crook of your neck to sink his teeth into your shoulder, earning a shriek. "Like me pounding you stupid while your pretty little cunt begs for more?"
You nod frantically, sobbing, helpless to the way your orgasm starts to crest, so tight and fast, your walls spasming around him, trying to milk him again.
"My wife's talking outta her pussy again, huh?" he huffs, snapping his hips harder, tip forming a deep buldge in your tummy. "Sloppy little hole just keeps begging. She's so loud, baby."
Your orgasm slams into you like a wave, shattering you completely. Your arms give out under the weight of it, body collapsing onto the soaked sheets as your cunt gushes around him, spraying down your thighs in a messy rush, soaking his cock and making a lewd, slick sound as he fucks you through it. And he doesn't even slow down, just drives in harder, chasing his own end with vicious rams.
"Want more, Zayne... please,"
Voice wrecked and slurred, your body's still trembling from the last orgasm. You're soaked, dripping, stretched and raw, but that greedy little pulse in your cunt won't stop—you're still needy, still aching.
Zayne's panting above you, face flushed, hair stuck to his forehead with sweat. He’s still buried to the hilt inside you, cock twitching, cum leaking out around the base with every tiny clench of your slick walls.
"W-what about a quick break, darling? Promise I'll—"
"N-noooo," you whine, lip wobbling, eyes stinging as water builds at your lash line, hipsalready back to rutting and arching back into him, his fresh seed spilling from your overflowed hole. “Pleaseee, baby. Want more, my husband's fucking me soooo good."
"Alright then."
His voice is wrecked, but the second he sees the tears in your eyes and the desperate grind of your hips against his, he snaps. Whatever doubt or exhaustion he had left is gone.
He leans in close, presses wet kisses to your cheek as his thrusts get messier and more frantic. "Happy wife," his cock twitches deep inside you, mushroomy head pulsating with fatigue, spurting the last remnats of his whispy cum,
cw: angst, questioning of worth, feeling empty, fluff, maybe comfort?
Synopsis: Returning to Linkon for a brief visit, you get help from Nero and talk with Xavier about recent developments. Back in Skyhaven, Em and Caleb are grappling with your absence.
author’s note: writing xavier for this was kinda tough because im not super familiar with him and i know he’s really nuanced but omg i think im in love with him now >_< anyways y’all its two am right now so im gonna go to sleep now and hate myself in the morning <3 im really proud of this part though so its alright (this isn’t proofread btw so if there’s typos no there isn’t)
The black leather and tinted windows of Sylus’s car drew shadows and visions out from the corner of your eye. You shifted to the middle, leaning forward so you were between the driver and passenger’s seats, where Luke and Kieran argued over the best route to take.
“You guys really don’t have to do this,” you interrupted. “I could get back to Linkon myself.”
“Actually, we do have to do this, Little Boss,” Kieran said sheepishly. “Boss-man’s orders.”
“Seriously?” you groaned, falling back against the seat with a soft thud.
“Yep,” Luke confirmed. “Boss said we had to take you to Linkon safely, then watch in the car from a safe distance so that his ‘little dove’ wouldn’t notice and get mad.”
You raised an eyebrow. “Why do you have to watch me in the first place?”
“Boss-man said it’s to make sure the hunter doesn’t get any ideas.” He shrugged.
“It’s a left here, right?” Kieran asked, quickly glancing towards Luke.
Luke turned around, looking back towards the road. “I thought you kept going straight… I don’t know, I don’t even remember what the Hunter’s Association looks like anymore!”
You pulled your hand down your face. “I’m going to die in this car,” you muttered.
The Hunter’s Association was sterile. Clean. Efficient. Hunters rushing to respond to alerts, researchers rushing to make their lunch break.
You eyed the Hunters’ desks as you pushed forward into the research department. Em’s desks was just as she’d left it that night you both prepared for this mission. Plushies still in place, old reports forgotten and discarded.
The research department contrasted the rest of the Association, just like the researchers contrasted the hunters. There were those that stayed comfortably behind the scenes, and those that claimed all the glory.
Simple. That was the best word to describe it. Simple, but not barren. Simple, in the way the chicken noodle soup was when your mother made for you that day you were a sick little six year old. Simple, in the way that life used to be.
Simple, in the way you wished it still was.
The soft lighting caressed you, unlike the harsh, bright lights in the training grounds. The smell of tea permeated the air, creating a warmth that settled deep in your chest. Stacks of papers, rows of books, all dotted around the department, created such an atmosphere. Always something to do, never terrible pressure to do it. It was calm, comforting, to be surrounded by so much knowledge and feel that you had all the time in the world to pursue it.
You found Nero at his desk, scribbling something down with a steaming cup of tea next to him. He didn’t look up as you approached, continuing to wield his pen as if it were the only thing keeping him alive. He started when you cleared your throat, nearly knocking his tea off the desk.
“Oh, hey! It’s you.” Nero breathed a sigh of relief before furrowing his brows. “You’re back early. Did something happen?” His eyes immediately dropped to your bandaged hands, fighting the urge to pry so you could tell him on your own terms.
Following his gaze, you raised a hand dismissively. “It’s nothing. Really. Just a… a stupid mistake.”
“If you say so,” Nero said hesitantly. “Have you already seen the medic? I can call them, if you want.” You stopped his hand already reaching for the phone. His gaze snapped to yours.
“I’m fine, Nero. It’s just a couple scratches.” He nodded, lowering his hand onto the table, yours still resting on top. “Could you do me a favor?” you asked.
“Of course! What do you need? I’ll help any way I can,” he replied immediately.
“Well, first things first, Em is probably going to come around asking about me,” you began. “When she does, I want you to tell her you haven’t seen me, alright?”
Nero nodded slowly. “Sure, but why? Did you two have a falling out?”
“Something like that,” you sighed. “This next thing might be a bit complicated.” You leaned in a bit closer. “Is that alright?”
Nero nodded again, vigorously this time. “That’s alright! I just want to help you as best I can.” He leaned in, too, his voice lowering as a flush painted his cheeks. “To be honest, you’re probably my only real friend here. I get the feeling the other guys don’t really listen. So, I want to help you as much as you helped me.”
Feeling your chest swell with his quiet confession, you pressed a delicate kiss to his cheek, watching with soft laughter as the red across it darkened with blush. “Thanks, Nero,” you whispered.
“Um, any— anytime,” he stuttered. “What did you need me to do?”
In the quiet of the research department, you carefully explained your request.
Caleb’s apartment hadn’t been filled with a calm quiet in days.
There was quiet, sure. But none peaceful.
There was the quiet of plotting, the quiet of sulking, the quiet of anger, the quiet of regret, no matter how briefly lived.
It echoed in Caleb’s apartment, reaching the farthest corners and leaving neither one of its occupants untouched. Caleb had succumbed to the quiet days ago. An acceptance that this was how it was going to be from now on. Things would never be the same.
He was foolish to think they would be.
Em seemed to deny the quiet. She wanted to act like it hadn’t consumed her, even as it chipped away at her halved soul. The quiet invaded her eyes, replacing the complete emptiness, the desolation, with an acknowledged lacking. The awareness that something was missing, even if there was no certainty as to what that was.
Caleb watched as she crumbled, watched her increasing defiance towards the decay. He could recount just when the fall began, down to the minute.
The apartment was quiet when they’d returned. The kind of quiet that leaves a sickness pooling in the pit of your stomach, a feeling that tells you something was wrong.
But nothing was out of place. Caleb made sure of it. He moved from the kitchen to the bedrooms, checking every nook and cranny for anything that was even slightly off.
Nothing.
He halted in front of your bedroom. Should he knock, did he have the right to? You had so little peace left, he knew, so who was he to disturb that?
He walked past with a deep sigh.
Em practically fell into the living room, uniform disheveled and hair a mess. She collapsed onto the couch, pulling an apple pillow into her arms. “Caleb, do you ever feel... less than whole?”
Caleb looked up, eyeing her from the opposite side of the room. He closed the distance in a few quick strides, stopping just an arm’s reach away from her. “Are you feelin’ that way, pip-squeak?” he asked.
She shook her head. “No, it just—” a sharp exhale “—just something I read somewhere.” She stood abruptly, dropping the pillow as she move with purpose. “I’m going to check…” she trailed off.
The walk down the hallway felt too long, allowing Em’s thoughts to consume her as she approached your door. Would you still be mad, she wondered? Would you yell? Would you be crying? Or would you be accepting, finally seeing her point of view?
She gave a soft knock on the door. A warning. She opened it quietly, wary of your possible reactions. When met with silence, she pushed further in.
Abandoned. That’s what it was. Empty. No sign of you. No lingering warmth, no comforting scent of shampoo, no gentle caress of breath.
Just cold.
Em’s legs moved before her mind fully comprehended it. She searched frantically, watched with a quiet detachment as her hands pulled apart curtains and blankets, hoping, wishing, that you were just hiding.
That you weren’t really gone.
“Caleb!” she called, voice mixing into something foreign. It broke slightly as she called again, the grief cracking through.
Caleb came running, like he always did. He slowed as he walked in, taking in the strewn pillows and blankets, the curtains torn from their rods, the woman standing in the middle of the chaos looking so small, like that kid in the lab that didn’t quite understand what was going on, why this was happening to them.
“Gone,” she whispered. “I don’t know—” Her voice caught. “How? When?”
Caleb’s arms surrounded her, snaking around her in a firm grip, ensuring she couldn’t slip away, away into her mind or away into the world. “I don’t know, pips,” he admitted quietly. “I don’t now how it could have happened.”
“Someone helped,” she said, voice hardening. “Someone had to. And I think I have an idea as to who would.”
Em pulled herself away from Caleb’s grip, leaving him empty, reaching for something that wouldn’t stay. He watched as the fire returned to her eyes, briefly, the flame quickly igniting before the downpour of grief snuffed it out.
Something was missing now. Something she now needed.
Caleb realized with that quiet horror that she truly wanted it, needed it back.
That quiet horror consumed, it seemed, melding and mixing with every barely changing mood.
The quiet persevered.
The training grounds were loud, almost overwhelmingly so. Despite the twilight and approaching dusk, hunters still dueled and trained as if chasing the sun’s departure.
“Xavier!” you called out.
The hunter paused, his light blade freezing mid-strike as he met your gaze. He dropped it to his side, letting it fade away in a soft, slow burst of light.
You raised a hand, motioning for him to come closer. He came forward, face hiding any doubts he had though confusion was littered in the sea of his eyes. He raised a hand to wipe the sheen of sweat from his forehead, taking the brief moment of pause to observe you.
“Did you need something?” he asked hesitantly.
“I actually have something important to tell you,” you said sheepishly. “Is it alright if we talk someplace private?”
Stiffening slightly, Xavier only offered a nod. You lightly took his hand, leading him away from the training grounds and through the Association. The setting sun cast an orange glow through the spacious windows, painting an otherworldly glow on Xavier’s figure.
You finally stopped in an empty courtyard outside the Association. Flower arrangements, trees, and topiaries dotted the space, along with the occasional wooden picnic table. Leading Xavier to one in the far corner, you sat down on the table top, resting your feet on the bench. You patted the space next to you.
Xavier took it without hesitation, situating himself so he could face you. He tilted his head. “What’s wrong?”
You let a few beats of silence fill the space between you.
“I don’t know how to tell you this…” You took a deep breath. “I’m not from here. From this world, universe, whatever.” You shook your head as if to shake away the confusion.
Saccharine blue eyes bore into yours, the depths of the galaxy and all its secrets hidden within them.
“I think you might understand it,” you explained slowly, “because you’re similar. You’re not from this time.”
Xavier’s body went rigid. Something changed in his eyes. They were hard. Protective. Powerful.
“How do you know that?” The softness seemed to melt away from his voice, giving way to something that demanded respect.
“The way I know that goes in hand with what I have to tell you,” you said quickly. “In my world, there was an… awareness of this one. But, it wasn’t really another world. It was— sort of a—”
“Stop beating around the bush and tell me.” You nearly flinched from the coldness in his tone, the way the trust lingering between you had seemingly disappeared. His shoulders slumped as he watched you draw back. “Continue, please,” he said quietly.
With a shaky breath, you obliged. “Where I’m from, this world was all a game.”
“A game?” Xavier’s gaze snapped to yours, brow furrowing slightly.
“Yeah.” You nodded. “It was a romance game. There was this Main Character that the player could sort of self insert into, and five Love Interests.”
Xavier nodded along with you. “This was all a game… and you know about me from this game?”
You carefully explained everything you could to Xavier. The plots, the Love Interests, all the past loves fated to be doomed. You were cautious when explaining the existence of the other men, but Xavier handled it better than you’d expected after glimpsing his jealousy.
“I sort of knew she had others, but,” he gave you a soft smile, “even if it was a game, that means that somehow, someplace, I succeeded. We were able to be together. That’s enough for me, I think.”
You swallowed, blinking back tears you felt forming. “I’m sorry you had to find out like this,” you whispered. “To find out it was all a game, I don’t think I’d handle it as well as you are.”
Xavier took your hand in his, soft and firm. “There’s not much for me to do about it, I’ve realized. You can only live with what you are given, and what you find. If this is what I’m given, I’ll take it. My love with her may have been made for a story, but it’s real to me.” He leaned back, angling his head up towards the sky. “If it’s all fake, then it’s a beautiful fantasy to live in. The stars alone are enough.”
Getting up front the table, you and Xavier fell back against the grass, hand in hand. The earth cradled your bodies as the soft blades of grass caressed your bare skin. Stars painted the night sky, swirls of blues and purples highlighting the soft glow of distant plants and constellations.
“If you’re the only real thing I’ve known,” Xavier said slowly, reverently, “I think I can accept that. Knowing the real you is honor enough, even in a world that’s only a facade. Your presence is the only reality I need.”
You laughed softly, and he closed his eyes, seeming to bask in the sound. “I’m honored to know you, Xavier. Knowing you, really knowing you, is better than I imagined.” You sighed wistfully. “You’re so certain, so quietly confident. I feel so lost, but it seems you always know your way.”
“The best way to find direction is by the North Star,” he whispered. “Sometimes, you can find that in another person. I think I’ve found my North Star in you.”
comments and reblogs appreciated and asks open! <3
Summary- You are staying home from summer break before Senior year of college with your Gran, Josephine, when a huge surprise happens, after over a year of being unable to see Caleb, he comes back to stay. You're so happy, but there's just a couple problems - one, you want him in ways you shouldn't, and you're just starting to get over it with the distance. And two, Caleb is pretty fucking pissed that you have a date, isn't he enough for you!?
Warnings- eventual smut, light angst, taboo relationships, TW- stepcest, mutual pining, yandere Caleb, he's a virgin bc that's canon to me, him being utterly obsessed. This chap - Caleb masturbating, thinking of reader sexually, fingering, SO MUCH SEXUAL TENSION - like just fuck already? - jealousy, hurt feelings, Caleb being SO petty, obsessed reader, mentions of virginity and a lot of fantasies hehe, kinda a slow burn?- 6.5k wc this chap
Comments/Reblogs appreciated if you enjoyy - taglist open <3
<<<Part One - Part Three>>> (coming soon)
Part Two
It's late when you get back, about to storm actually, you hear the thunder in the distance, little fat droplets of rain starting to patter on the windshield as you and your date drive back to your place. He's got a hand on your thigh, smiling and talking, it feels...
Off.
The only person that's touched you aside from a few kisses that you've tried, was Celeb, and his touches were always reserved, the bathroom earlier was the first time you felt him lose that just a bit. The way his hand slipped down your spine, the way he touched your calf and thigh earlier, something had changed.
Was it you who changed, or him though? Did you finally just let the facade fall, the lies you tell yourself so you don't feel horrible for wanting the boy you grew up with? It's swirling in your mind as you try to listen to your date, he's so nice and fun, but you can't find it in you to enjoy it.
You can't be with Caleb - did he even want that, would he ever want that!? The thoughts won't stop even as you shove them back - what you hoped was a childhood crush, admiration of him, you're forced to realize it's never going away. A deep love that borders obsession for him, diaries loaded with things you've always wanted to stay, buried forever.
"You're here, right?" He says, looking at the map on his phone, you smile then, nodding as he unbuckles your seatbelt. "I had a lot of fun tonight."
"I did too!" You take the hand on your thigh, holding it, curious then. Was it the complete lack of trying that caused you not to want anyone else? Were you so closed off you were blinded, closed off for him...
Caleb.
Before you really dive further, he's leaning down, the windshield wipers gently flicking the rain off in streaks as the storm starts to rumble. You remember being so afraid of storms when you were little, always running to Caleb's bed. He had a fort specifically built that the two of you would cuddle in, as he read you stories till you could sleep.
Even now, it's him all in your brain - made worse by his presence, with him being gone a year you could almost try to ignore it, explain it away. But he's full force back, you can smell his scent lingering from his touch on your fucking clothes. Shoving it all back, you lean forward as he cups your face, eyes fluttering shut.
What would it be like to kiss Caleb?
That thought shouldn't be what's in your brain, but it's glaring you right in the face, while the boy's lips press against yours. They're smooth and sweet, his hand entangling in your hair gently, a little sigh that falls into your own mouth. You kiss him back, focusing on the feeling, it feels nice, it feels lovely.
You wonder if this was it, what you needed to forget the person you shouldn't want, when his tongue slips in your mouth, and the kiss gets more heated. He touches your thigh again with his other hand, slipping up slowly, tongue swirling inside your mouth as you pull back for a breath.
"You look so pretty tonight," he says. You blush a bit in the darkness of his car, hearing the rain pick up. You look back to see the curtain of Caleb's room open, when you catch sight it flutters shut.
There's no way he could see like that in the dark, you're paranoid.
"Thank you, I enjoyed it too." You say, biting your lip when he starts kissing across your neck, you exhale at the sensations, his hand dangerously close to toying with the waistband of your panties, when he sucks on your neck. "Ah!"
"Sorry, too much?" He pulls back then, and you look down nervously, touching the spot he'd just gently sucked on.
"I'm sorry just... not experienced."
"Oh, shit I..." He trails off, backing away, and you shake your head, taking his hand again.
"No, it's okay, I also hate storms a bit. So I'm afraid my mind is a little everywhere." Not on the six foot three man towering in his fucking room, the one that had you soaking wet straightening your hair. No way, right?
"You also had that burn," He touches it and frowns. "I got a little carried away."
"You're perfectly fine, I do think I should head in while we get a break from the rain though." He nods and leans forward, kissing your cheek now.
"Can we do this again?" You nod shyly, he grins so big, he's an adorable boy surely, you wish you could feel something, anything, but the need to touch yourself and think of Caleb again.
You hate yourself for it.
"I'd love to. Good night!" You rush once you're running out of his car, the rain starting to fall again heavy as if on cue, you wave when you get to the porch and shake your hair out, fumbling with your bag to get to your keys.
It's pretty late after the movie and dinner, you quietly enter the home, the floorboards creaking just a bit as you walk inside, soppy heels coming off as you shut the door. You take them and set them by the entrance, shivering a bit as the cool air of the house hits your skin over the thin, soaking wet clothes, you feel goosebumps creep up as you set down your clutch.
You quietly walk up the stairs, so familiar, how many times had you and Caleb chased each other up and down these? You smile softly at the memories while your hand glides along the railing, cool under your palm, heading over towards your bedroom then, when you realize Caleb’s door is open. You bite your lower lip, wondering when it became so awkward.
It’s as if you can’t keep yourself under control suddenly, just his scent has you throbbing with need, you hover just by his door, sure he’s asleep, when you peer in the darkness just a bit. You’re dripping softly against the old wooden floorboards, still hopelessly drenched as you peer at his perfectly made bed, frowning a bit.
"Pips, you're gonna catch a cold like this," Caleb's words shock you, jolting in as he sits in the chair by the window seat, reading a book casually in the dark like that’s normal in any way. "You're all wet."
"I... um... yeah. I am." You barely manage to take a breath as he studies you in the doorway, lightning illuminating the room through the window as it flashes, enhancing his silhouette as his eyes dart down your body.
"I'll get ya a towel, dry your hair," he sets down the book, walking towards you, looking at how the thin, drenched material clings to your curves, swallowing a suddenly dry throat at the sight. "And some dry clothes."
"I can myself, Caleb, I'm a grown up you know." His lips turn down in a frown, his eyes unreadable in the night.
"You really don't need me anymore, huh?"
"Caleb no," you touch his arm with your cool fingers, but he takes your hand, laughing softly without humor. "I just meant I can grab a towel and dry my hair. I had to get used to..."
"I get it. I haven't been around, and you grew up." He pats your head, still damp, with a sad little smile that breaks your heart. You don't wanna be so dependent on him, but part of your heart craves him.
"Caleb..." He kisses your forehead with a soft brush of his lips, sighing, wishing he could drag you in his room, feeling your chilled skin under his fingertips.
"Have fun?" You manage a nod. A lie. "Good I'm... glad you're home safe. Then I’ll leave you to get dried up, you’re dripping all over, silly.”
He gently pushes you a bit when you pause, biting your lip and looking at him under your lashes, dripping mascara down your cheeks. “Maybe you could dry my hair for me?”
“You’re spoiled, see,” he laughs softly, shaking his head. “Go get in some dry clothes and I’ll come bring a towel for your hair.”
You smile and run off, he watches your bare feet leaving a little bit of a trail as you run to your room, he first grabs a towel for the floor because you’ve clearly been raised in a barn and want to piss Gran off. After chuckling and shaking his head, he grabs a fluffy towel from the bathroom, walking towards your room that’s across from his, taking a breath.
He raps softly, hearing you beckon him in, and when he walks in your room, you’re wearing one of his old shirts, he pauses at the sight of your nipples pressed against it, as you smile at him. “Ya stealin’ my shirts still?”
“They’re so comfy! I may have a collection at my dorm.” He rolls his eyes, smirking as he shuts the door behind him, leaving the two of you alone, as he walks towards you now, seeing the lighting illuminate your silhouette under the shirt that swallows you, thin and white.
“I see that’s where all my things went, and here I thought you gave ‘em away,” he teases, smiling in that heartbreaking way only he can. You shake your head, and he brushes your damp hair, sighing. “Turn around.”
The soft order brings filthy things to your mind, ones you can’t help but think of, turn around, bend over, arch-
Stop that!
You do as he asks, he sits on the edge of your bed then, so tall that’s how he can dry your hair without hurting his back bending down. You stumble just a bit as you shift your weight on one foot, ending up sitting right on one of his knees, giggling and looking at him in the dark of the night then, the fluffy towel in his hands.
“Sorry, can I just sit here?”
“Sure, pips.” He manages to speak softly, you tilt your head so he can dry your hair thoroughly, while he feels your heat on his thigh, trying his best to control his breathing.
He’s been in battle, he’s been in jets, grueling training, he’s been through every stress test there is, but nothing affects him like being so close to you. Inhaling the scent of your skin, the perfume still lingering despite the rain, mixing in a heady scent with your shampoo. It was as if the rain just enhanced it, the beauty of your skin, the sweetness of your scent, his desire making him ache so badly it hurts.
He pauses as he brushes aside somewhat dried hair now, frowning as he sees the burn on your neck, touching it and making you gasp. “Does it hurt?”
“No, Caleb, it's fine. Promise,” he brushes his fingers across it, then moves the wide neck of his shirt lower, long fingers gripping it harshly as he sees it, letting the damp towel fall to the floor. “Caleb?”
“What’s this?” His words are dark, husky and dangerous, as his violet eyes meet yours before darting back to your neck.
“What, the burn?”
“No, this…” His thumb brushes over it, a clear hickey on your neck, and his other arm wraps around you so tightly you almost can’t breathe, pressed against his big, hard body so close. “What’s this mark on your skin?”
“It’s… um… Caleb, you’re hurting me,” he lets you go, realizing what he’s doing and you exhale in relief, but he’s still got your neck exposed, his eyes boring a fucking hole into your skin. “You know what it is.”
“Do I?” He brushes his thumb across it again, right over a vein in your skin, your pulse racing under his touch, and he feels your cunt heating up more, the jealousy raging through his fucking veins. “Was he fit to touch you?”
Your brows draw together as you gaze at his dark violet storms he calls eyes. “Was he… huh?”
“Is anyone good enough?”
“Caleb, that's insane,” you go to stand now, right between his legs when you turn, fixing the shirt a bit, and his hands fall, resting on his thighs in fists. “Good enough, what do you mean?”
“Was he good enough to get to touch you?” You shake your head again, he cups your face then, bringing your attention to him. “Is anyone?”
“You’re protective, it’s sweet but…”
He laughs, without humor now. “Protective. Yeah, guess I am.” He tugs at your collar again, swallowing nervously when you whine out softly, the sound almost doing him in.
“I stopped him when he did, it felt a little too fast,” he shouldn’t feel such relief at your words, but that’s exactly what they give him. “I barely know anything, I’m not very um… experienced. Is this too much?”
“We tell each other everything,” his words are soft and wistful, giving you those sweet eyes of his, contradictions of the dark gaze moments ago. “Don’t we? Haven’t we always?”
“I do know when you got your first kiss,” you admit with a teasing smile, as if the thought of him kissing someone doesn’t fill you with envy, eyeing those soft lips of his, so plush you want to touch them, feel them everywhere. “But that’s because I walked by and saw it, hounded you for details.”
“And I know your first kiss,” he is still cupping your face, with his huge hand, the other still tracing your neck as he looks back at that mark. “Only because I caught you and beat him up.”
“You did! That was embarrassing!” You shove playfully at him, he chuckles a little softer now, letting his hands fall, your own rest on his chest, feeling the hard, strong muscles under his shirt. “Caleb…”
“Hmm?”
“How’d you know you wanted to, the first time?” Your words make his stomach clench, his heart pound under your palm. “It’s too much isn’t it? Even we aren’t that close…”
“No, it’s not that,” he looks away, sighing and laughing a bit. God, if you knew he’s a virgin, has hardly done anything? Hasn’t even watched porn because it feels like he’s fucking cheating on you - and it’s not as if anyone could make him hard, when you exist. “Not that at all.”
“I know you’ve probably done a lot more than me, you’re all worldly you know, and the girls fawn over you,” your teasing words make him blush even in the dark, as he clears his throat, hands still in fists, the veins popping out of the backs of them. “I guess I want things to be just right, and they never have been.”
“Things should be perfect the first time, you deserve that. You deserve everything you know.”
“Caleb you go on too much sometimes, I’m just a girl.”
“Just a girl, huh…” you nod as he stands then, towering over you, making your head tilt back to look up at him, far, far too close, your hand now touching his hard abdomen instead. “What do you want to know?”
“What do guys like? I don’t wanna mess it all up.”
“You thinkin’ about it?” He tries to keep his voice calm, not show the edge to his words.
“Not now, but one day I’m sure. I can’t be a virgin forever,” the words fall out, and you look down shyly. “You’re the closest person to me, I guess you get to know.”
“Why be embarrassed about it? Means you’re picky, that’s a good thing.” He smiles at you, like his heart isn’t breaking right now, and you smile back, nodding a bit.
“I think I’m too picky, you left a hell of an impression. How does anyone live up to Caleb?”
He rolls his eyes and laughs, as you do, hugging him tightly then, his arms wrap gently around you. “I can’t tell you what other men like, aside from stories from the boys.”
“What do they like?”
“Hmm, some like to… be pleased, some like to please, the stories vary, and I think a lot of them are lyin’. I doubt they’re going that many rounds.” You laugh again, as he brushes his hand up and down your back, feeling your soft breasts against him.
“What do you prefer?” Your words make his heart pound, as he imagines exactly everything he’s always wanted to do with you, you lean back and bite your lower lip, eyes lowering. “Sorry, too personal?”
“What do I prefer,” he sighs now, as he only knows what he wants to do with you. You look up curiously, ever trusting, when his hand slips up to brush a bit of your hair off your brow, caressing your jaw line and watching your lips part. “To have whoever I’m with cumming so hard she can’t think.”
You gasp at that, at how he looks at you then, leaning low and tilting your chin up, and your hair falls against your back, your arms still around his waist. “Oh?”
You can barely manage to speak, and he nods just a little bit. “Till she’s a mess for me, beggin’ me to stop, but even then I can’t, not until I’ve lapped up every bit of the mess she’s making.” You barely bite back a moan, filthy images like that fucking dream filling your mind, when his lips are a breath away.
“You don’t want um… her to please you?” You barely manage a fucking sentence, dying to kiss him, knowing how fucking wrong it is.
You can’t, you can’t, you can’t.
You’re furious anyone got this side of him, stupid and jealous over picturing him pleasing anyone, ever, hands gripping his shirt tightly, the material wrinkling in your tight hold as he brushes a thumb across your chin. “I don’t need it, the pleasure I get is from making her cum till she faints, watching her face as her eyes roll back, that alone would have me more than pleased.”
Your little whine you let out is too much, Caleb can hardly breathe when he hears it, when he rests his forehead, bent down, holding you in his embrace. “Whoever got that from Caleb, they’re very lucky.”
“Are they, pips?” You nod, swallowing when you hear a clap of thunder, loud now, burying your face against his chest, hiding your overheated face. “You still scared of storms, thought you were grown up now?”
“Oh… you love to pick on me,” you pull back, disentangling yourself, your entire body on fire as you take his hand, plastering on a bright smile. “Go to bed, we have a pool party tomorrow.”
“A what now?” He frowns and you giggle.
“Yes, a bunch of all our friends are throwing one, you’re coming. Let the girls fawn over you.”
“Uh huh, you can’t even swim.”
“I’ll stay in the shallow end! Plus, you’ll be there to save me.” You smile sweetly, and he sighs.
“I’ll always be there.” His words mean too much, when he kisses your head gently, inhaling your scent. “Get some sleep then.”
“Good night Caleb. Love you.” His heart aches, wishing it fucking meant more than that, than a best friend, whatever the fuck you two were.
The way he means it is not the same. “Love you, Pips, sweet dreams.”
He walks out and gently shuts your door, you let out a ragged breath, hand over your racing heart, as he leans his head against your door, palm over it, struggling to compose himself.
He can’t stop himself from jerking his cock as soon as he gets in his room, he barely makes it inside, releasing his thick, veiny length that smacks his belly button, smearing precum on his shirt as it slaps, leaking from his pretty pink tip. He exhales in relief, before crying out, his long lashes fluttering shut, seeing you behind his eyes.
He can't stop himself from picturing doing exactly what he told you - having you cum till you pass out. Fuck he’d keep licking you after, have you cum in your sleep - drink the juices he tasted on his tongue earlier, as you tugged his head even closer. God would you use him like he wishes you would?
God, if you’d suffocate him with those? He’s picturing them on either side of his head, would you ride his face? He spits down on his cock as he leans back against the door, groaning softly at the thoughts, his eyes shutting as he strokes himself, maybe he would while you suffocated him with your cunt, drown him in all that fucking wetness just pouring.
Caleb murmurs your name as he strokes his cock, from the base to the tip, whining out from the images racing through his mind of you - you and only you - how could there be anything else? The only girl he can ever picture sinking his long, thick cock deep inside, watching the bulge of your tummy as he fills you, so big in comparison.
He’s closer, closer to cumming, the release just on the brink as he pinches his tip and gasps out, remembering your scent, your heat on him - he shouldn’t be doing this when you’re in the room across from him. He should feel bad, but he can’t, not when he’s about to cum, picturing filling up your cunt, so much your tummy would just bloat with all the loads he’d put in you.
Caleb should feel bad for wanting you, for cumming now, white hot ropes filling all over his hand, making it a sticky mess as his head rests against the door of his room, knowing you’re over there is pure fucking torture. Knowing he can never say it, all he fucking feels, it’s a cruel joke, to wonder what you’re doing over there, to wonder how you look when you cum, how you’d look taking him.
He hastily cleans up, hands shaking as he does. Later, he's swiping a hand across his face as he lays in his bed, grimacing at his thoughts, not realizing you’re circling your clit with your little fingers in the room across from him, picturing him on top of you. If he knew that, he wouldn’t be able to handle it, as you scream into your palm under your blankets, picturing the boy you grew up with cumming inside you.
*****
Seeing you in a fucking bikini is fresh torture.
His cock was rubbed raw by thoughts of you, now you bounce out in a too small bikini, smiling a bit nervously. “I had to dig up a high school one, ugh! I think it doesn’t fit me anymore.”
No, it barely covers your pretty breasts, that are bouncing as you shift just so, every movement making him more tempted to fucking grab you. A mix of wanting to keep you hidden, no one should see your body but him, and another part of him wants to rip it off you, bend you over that kitchen table you’re leaning against, fuck into you until you forget about anything.
Anything, anyone, just you and him - why can’t you have your own little fucking world away, far away. He has enough money, he could make it happen. You don't know about his promotion yet, where it will lead him, how badly he wants you to come live with him, be taken care of. Never work a day in your pretty little life, maybe just have his babies.
Fuck.
You're talking but he isn't focused, instead picturing breeding you, god how sexy you'd be round with him. You'd stay with him forever, be a part of him forever, he'd never have to let you go, ever again.
“Caleb, do you?” He looks at you quietly, you feel his gaze dart to your breasts for a moment before they slide right back up to your eyes.
“Do I what, I'm sorry, I'm still kinda tired,” he murmurs, rubbing the back of his neck. “What did you say honey?”
“Daydreaming, huh?” You tease, playfully pressing on his shoulder. He smiles, a little turn of lips slightly chapped from the weather, holding your hand then. “I said do you think I should go buy another?”
“You look fine, it's not… it's a little small but…”
“The freshman fifteen strikes!” He shakes his head at you and rolls his eyes.
“No, you're a woman now, you were just a kid when you wore that.” The way he says it makes you heat up-
Does he see you as a woman now - and not the little girl he is so set on protecting, keeping just that, little forever?
“Are you going with her, Caleb?” Gran asks, walking in and gesturing. “You're not in swim trunks!”
“I didn't bring any, and my old ones I can't find anywhere.”
“Then let's both get bathing suits, this isn't working is it Gran.”
She laughs. “I mean, it's a little outdated I guess. While you two are out will you get a few things for me?”
“Of course, Gran.” She's giving you two a list, you slip on some jean shorts and Caleb offers you one of his button downs to cover up a bit, as your nipples threaten to just spill. “I'll drive!”
“Absolutely not.” You glare at him, earning his chuckle. God you're adorable when you do that, how your nose scrunched up. “I'll have a heart attack driving with you.”
“I'm not even that bad at it. I'll have you know I'm licensed now.” You tilt your chin up, but he takes out his own keys, jingling them high. “Hey!”
“Nuh uh, I drive. That's terrifying you're on the road.”
“Oh whatever!” You stick your tongue out, and soon the two of you are driving down the busy streets, he stops over at the mall the two of you grew up spending time in. “I wonder if it's changed?”
“Everything changes, pips,” you frown a bit at that, in his ominous, soft tone. “C’mon, let's get to picking something out.”
Caleb picks out a pair of purple and orange trunks in about two seconds, but suddenly everything you try on just doesn't look good enough. You're analyzing every part of yourself to death - what type of woman does Caleb like? Did he have a type? Were you close to it, or the opposite?
What did it matter?
“We're gonna be late for your own party if you don't at least choose something,” he says outside the dressing room, rapping at the door. You sigh now, opening it, as he takes in the simple black bikini, momentarily stunned.
“I can't figure this buckle out. But this is the only one I think looks okay.” He frowns then, stepping inside the dressing room, right behind you, looking at the delicate curve of your spine, finding the silver buckle in the back of the top.
“You look amazing, you always do in anything,” you look down nervously, feeling goosebumps raise where his fingers slide up, fixing the straps gently. “Hey. Look at me.”
You meet his eyes in the mirror, a boy you've always been so comfortable with, now you can't help but wonder what he thinks of your body. In ways you shouldn't think. It should be easy, the closest person to you in here, but his gaze in the mirror is too much, his big hands slipping down your bare arms.
“You're worried about how you look? That's not like you,” he murmurs, stepping closer and holding that eye contact in your reflection. You feel your body heat up at his nearness, breasts rising and falling. “That boyfriend's gonna be there? Is that your worry?”
You swallow, nodding, a lie.
You always lie to avoid the truth, it's Caleb's eyes and attention you crave. You always have.
“He'd only be so lucky to even see you,” he leans his chin down, two hands slipping across your waist, you bite back a moan. “You're beautiful.”
“Caleb,” you turn your head, breaths coming quicker, eyes locking as he delicately holds your chin. “Do you say that because you love me so much?”
“You think it's to be nice?” He laughs, that short sound with no humor, exhaling and tugging you closer.
“You're always too nice to me, you always have been.” He shakes his head, noses brushing just barely, the quiet dressing room so small then it feels like it's closing in on you.
It's just you and Caleb.
“I mean every word I say to you, you're beautiful in anything. Don't worry about what he thinks or anyone else, know what I think.” You turn to him then, making him tense as you press him against the wall, and his hands come to grip your waist, hugging him tightly. “You worry too much.”
“You always make me feel beautiful,” he runs his hands through your hair, ache deep in his body. He knows one more moment and he's going to lose control.
He can't ever.
“Let's buy this one,” he says softly, you nod, smiling up at him so pretty then. “Good, I'll buy it for you.”
He takes off the tag, and before you can protest he's out of the room. Leaving you trembling, wetness slipping out though you're trying to hold it back. You touch the cool glass of the mirror, leaning forward and seeing the faint mark of last night, next to Caleb's burn.
You wish he marked you everywhere.
*****
Watching you giggle and laugh with your friends brought Caleb back, they all came and asked him a million questions, they all have crushes on him, but they’re sweet to you. They’re so happy to catch up, as are some of Caleb’s old friends from high school and college, it feels nearly perfect, aside from the fact that he can’t do what he wants.
Hold your hand in public, kiss you in front of them all.
Seeing couples all around, seeing that boy from last night who Caleb would love to launch in the fucking pool and kill for leaving a mark on you, it all sinks in, as it does for you when you see so many gathered around him. Girls listen to his every word, as he blushes a bit under the attention, brushing back his dark brown locks, wet from the pool.
He catches your gaze across the other side of the long, rectangular pool, seeing you sitting next to the boy, your legs in the water. He sees his hand on your thigh and thinks of cutting it the fuck off, as you look at a girl touching his bare shoulder, whispering something in his ear, making you want to yank her off him.
But neither of you can, and shouldn’t want it, any of it.
In the pool later, you’re on Caleb’s back like a little monkey, he can’t stop laughing at the memories, when he walks you to the deep end. You cling tighter to his neck, thighs pressing on either side, and he feels it, that heat again, since he’s been back every time you’re near him he does. He knows what it means, but he’s terrified to act on his instincts.
Instincts to fill your pussy up with his fingers, the ones that press into your thighs, your lips are so close to his neck as you giggle. “I’m scared, it’s too deep!”
“Nah, I’ve got you pipsqueak, relax.” He says softly, you tense even more, earning another laugh of his, as you hear your friends talking.
He loves her like a little sister.
He’s so sweet to her!
They’re so close, he’s such a good stepbrother.
Even after all these years!
You both tense as you hear it, the words stabbing both of your hearts, while you suffer in silence.
“A little sister,” you repeat softly, he turns his head, but you hide your face now. “Is that how you see me, Caleb?”
“I… you… we…” he trails off then, breaths coming too quick, fumbling what he wants to say, unsure if he ever should let that secret go. “How do you want me to see you?”
“I just want to be seen by you,” your words break him, as you tug off, clearing your throat. “I want to go home.”
“Yeah, okay.”
You step up those pool stairs, giving him a perfect view of your ass, the curves of your body, he sees other eyes on you, especially that boy, who walks up to you now. His fists clench at his sides as you smile and speak for a bit, toweling off, and when he has the audacity to kiss your cheek Caleb almost does commit murder.
He’s furious when the two of you get back in the car, silently fuming and raging, you’re all wrapped up in a towel as he is, both dripping along the leather seats of Caleb’s car, while his hands grip the wheel tightly, and his jaw his set. You see a vein bulging from it, as you look at him, while he starts the car, a gentle hum, you go to put on your favorite song, but he pauses it.
“What’s up, Caleb? Didn’t have fun?” You ask softly, and he scoffs, glaring at you now, the cool air from the vents making your nipples perk up in the slick black material of your top, drawing him in with every breath.
“Fun, no. I didn’t have fun.”
“Not even with everyone all over you?”
“What!?” He glares, the sweet Caleb you know is gone in this moment, he’s just a gorgeous fucking man, a furious man, leaning over you so big and broad, one huge hand cupping your face, your breath catches as he leans low. “Ya mad they did?”
“No!” He scowls now, ever closer, as your hand slips up his perfect, chiseled torso, still gleaming from the pool, eyeing his chest to avoid his knowing gaze.
“Did you like getting attention from him?” He touches that mark again, you bite your lower lip, nodding.
Another lie.
“So much that you’re burning here?” He cups you right over your bikini then, you gasp at it, eyes fluttering shut at how good it feels, his thumb pressing the slick heat over your clit. “Always so hot, is it him? Thinking of him?”
“How do you… notice it’s… hot?” you manage a little glare, and his own deepens, as you taste his minty breath, his other hand entangled in the wet locks of your hair.
“How can I not notice how hot it always is? How wet it’s been,” you whine out as he slips his fingers into your waist band, tummy tensing with need, your hand entangling in his hair now, earning his soft moan. “It’s soaking wet, isn’t it? Do you need me to help you?”
You nod weakly, and he moans louder, right in a car in front of a fucking party, anyone could see his hand between your legs, how close you two were to kissing. “I need you, Caleb.”
“Are you wet for him, pips?” He whispers, your thighs tremble as he finally touches your cunt for the first time, fingers finding your hot, pouring wetness, your head falls back and he eyes that mark. “Answer me, now.”
“Can’t,” your whisper is met with the squishing of your wet, soppy cunt as Caleb quickly finds your clit, he’s never even touched a pussy but the moment he brushes it and feels it twitching under his rough fingertip, he presses more. He kisses the burn he left, causing a sweet pain, as he rolls his finger. “Caleb, please,”
“Please what? Can’t tell me why you’re like this? Is it his kisses here?” He goes to that spot now, biting it hard, making you cry out at the pain. “If I marked you, it wouldn’t be a little pathetic one like this, no I’d leave so many bruises that would last for days, weeks.”
“Caleb! Ah!” He’s going in quicker circles, biting your skin and sucking, so hard you’re crying at how good it feels, your cunt is gushing, throbbing around nothing, aching to be filled. “Please…”
“Mmm,” he moans so sexy in your ear, dying to fuck this perfect pussy, so wet he never could have imagined, watching the purple and red form from his suction, looking at his teeth marks. “Answer me, what’s it from? Your slutty little pussy all soaking wet, huh?”
“I… you… Caleb…” the way he’s acting, talking, the insane look in his eyes, it’s so much you can’t speak - terrified to say the words.
You want him, only him, ever him.
He drags himself away, right before you cum, you’re shaking then, when he tugs your bikini bottoms, eyeing your beautiful cunt to commit it to memory, your beautiful face, lips parted, eyes dilated. You end him just fucking existing, all the need about to explode, when he knows he can’t.
What would gran say, what would people say, if he fucks the girl everyone thinks he sees as a fucking ‘little sister’ and not the woman he wants to marry, to breed, to keep pregnant and locked in his house. He drags his fingers to his lips, sucking you off them in one move, as you watch, shaking in his hold, and he slips the rest of your sweetness along your own lips.
“Can’t answer, then I can’t help you.” You gasp as he pulls back, like it’s fucking no big deal he just touched your clit, like his lips aren’t glistening with you. “Seatbelt up, Pips, gotta be safe.”
Safe, safe!?
The drive home is quiet, it’s too fucking quiet, the tension so palpable you can hardly breathe until you step outside. You rush in the house, making some lame excuse that you’ve had too much sun, internally losing it inside. What was that, what was it, him touching you there!? Him sucking you off him? Knowing you’ve been wet for him, leaving you throbbing.
You’re furious as you lay there later in tears, ignoring the soft knocks from him on your door, ignoring the texts he keeps sending to your phone. You’re confused, hurt and aching, throwing the blankets over your face, as he desires nothing more than to tell you how much he loves you. How he’s sorry that he acted that way, but how could he not be furious, jealous?
If you were wet it needed to be from him.
He had the chance, he finally felt you, tasted you, almost kissed you, only to let the jealousy ruin it - but there is no other way for Caleb. He needs you to be his, and only his, it’s why he’s ran off every boyfriend you’ve ever fucking had, it’s why he almost killed that boy today for coming near you, it’s why you now have a bruise forming on your neck.
It’s uncontrollable, his need, endless.
How does Caleb live in a world where you’re not his?
If they don't fuck imma crash out aha they're killing me
Like a vintage wine (+18) - Sylus x Reader (Love and Deepspace)
After weeks of trying to convince you to sit on his face, Sylus gets his way. And let's just say, you've never felt so thoroughly tasted
masterlist
rating: +18, MDNI
word count: 1,281
tags: sylus (lads) x reader, smut, fem!reader, afab!reader
cw: PwP, shameless smut, fingering (female receiving), oral sex (female receiving), pet names (kitten, sweetheart), slight spanking, face-sitting, sylus is a professional muncher, he'd love for you to sit on his face
notes: This is my first time writing for Sylus with an idea I couldn't get out of my head. I wrote it in the span of a few hours, so I'm quite proud of myself. xD I'm not main Sylus, so I hope I captured his personality correctly. I won't be doing a second part for this exact same oneshot, but I'm open to requests. :) Hope you enjoy it! This is not proofread, no betareader and English is not my first language, sorry for any mistakes.
“Sylus… I’m not sure about this.”
Your voice cracks in the middle of the sentence, because how the fuck are you supposed to remain calm with his naked body just beneath you?
You're straddling his torso, palms splayed across the hard plane of his chest, and legs tense on either side. He’s sprawled out shirtless, his golden skin stretched tight over lean muscles, chest falling with each slow breath. He looks like one of those ancient statues, carefully sculpted. His white hair’s a mess against the velvet pillow, red eyes half-lidded, and mouth twisted in that same grin that invites you to surrender - arrogant, infuriating, and stupidly sexy.
“You’re gonna have to be more specific, sweetheart,” he says, voice low, lazy and far too fucking smug for your already shaky nerves. “Not sure about what?”
You hesitate, fingers twitching against his skin. He talks like he’s not the one who made you be in this situation in the first place.
You try to look down at him without losing what’s left of your dignity.
“I just…” You swallow. “What if I hurt you?”
That earns you a real laugh. The kind of laugh that makes your stomach twist into a thousand goddam butterflies.
His warm hands slide up and settle on your hips, not helping your case. One of his thumbs strokes slow circles into your thigh, as if that’s going to calm you down instead of driving you even more insane.
“I’ve taken bullets round through my lungs and walked it off,” he states. “And you think your pretty little cunt sitting on my face is what’s gonna kill me?”
Your mouth opens and closes again. You look away.
“It’s just not that,” you mutter. Your face burns. “It’s… kind of embarrassing.”
He hums, tilting his head like he’s studying you. “Embarrassing is me begging you to sit on my face for the third time this week.” His grin widens. “Which I’m not above doing again, by the way.”
Your cheeks now go nuclear. You try to get off him, but his grip changes before you even move. He grabs your thighs, fingers sinking in, and pulls you right back down, your nude core flush against his abs. He doesn’t let you squirm away.
“Hey,” he says, his voice is not mocking this time. “Look at me.”
You blink down at him, caught between mortified and melting.
“Sylus -”
He doesn’t let you finish.
“You think I’d ask you to do something I didn’t want?” He reassures you, drawing gentle circles across your skin. “I want this. You. On me. Letting go. Not worrying about how you look, or what you sound like, or what I can handle.”
He leans up just enough to press a kiss to your inner thigh. His hot breath against your flesh sends shivers up your spine. Your pulse skips. His gaze is locked on yours, and he seems genuine. "Ok..."
He settles back down against the pillow, eyes still tracking your every twitch, and that fucking smirk crawling back across his face as if he’s already won.
Buzzing with nerves, you hunch forward until you’re hovering over his face. You ease your hands onto the headboard for support. Your thighs tremble with the effort to keep yourself lifted, because you’re still too afraid to let yourself go and actually sit on him, full weight and all. The last of your hesitation hangs heavy in the air, stretched between his mouth and your dripping cunt.
Sylus laughs.
A low, warm sound from deep in his chest - and gods, you feel it. The heat of it flares against your core, hot and direct. You're so close it’s almost contact, and the tease of it nearly makes you give in.
“Kitten,” he drawls, eyes dragging up from between your thighs back to your face, “you’re shaking like I’m about to bite.”
You might, you think.
Then one of his hands leaves your thigh, and you barely register it before the pad of his finger brushes up your folds. The contact rips a sound from your throat. A choked moan. Your hips jolt forward before you can stop yourself.
He hums low, brings the finger to his mouth, and sucks it clean without breaking eye contact.
“You’re already dripping,” he murmurs, voice gone darker and rougher. “And yet you’re still hovering?”
You try to protest, but no words come out, and Sylus doesn’t wait. He takes advantage of your reluctance, lifting his head to get closer. Both hands slide around and grip your ass, fingers sinking into the soft flesh with a rough, appreciative squeeze. Then, one hand moves around you. You jolt when he trails his fingers between your folds again. He does it once, twice, and the second time he tweaks your clit.
You jerk your body away from the sudden intensity.
He laughs again and yanks you down until your cunt is pressed directly to his mouth, his tongue already dragging through yout slit in a single, hungry stripe.
“Sylus!” You gasp in shock, trying to push back, but he tightens his grip and pulls you back into his mouth. He holds you in place as he flattens his tongue against your lips, before licking another stripe from your entrance to your clit. You tremble and finally give in. You let your weight fall onto him completely, finally sitting on his face. You feel him smile and he doesn’t wait another second to devour you.
His mouth opens wider, tongue working with more force, sipping you like a vintage wine. He groans into you, the vibration sending a fresh wave of heat up your spine. He grabs your rear harder, kneading handfuls of you and spreading you open for more access. You can’t help the moans that start spilling out of you. Your fingers find the headboard and clutch onto it like it’s the only thing holding you to earth. Your hips start to move on their own, rocking forward and back with desperation. Sylus groans again and spanks your ass. You cry out, more in surprise than pain, and grind down harder.
“That’s a good girl,” he growls, voice muffled by your thighs. The vibration makes your hips roll harder, chasing the pressure.
Sylus keeps licking, slurping, devouring you. One of his hands shifts, pushing into the tight space between his mouth and your dripping pussy, and without warning, he slides a finger inside you. It sinks so easily - a sloppy, slick glide from all the fluids already pouring out of you. He curls it just right, finding that spot that makes your vision blur and your spine arch. Your entire body convulses, thighs trembling violently around his head. Your mouth falls open in a silent scream as your legs clamp down around him, trapping his head between them while you cream all over his face.
Your vision blurs. You clutch the headboard with white-knuckled desperation in an attempt to ground yourself as pleasure tears through you. When it finally crests and crashes, you collapse -
but Sylus isn’t done.
His tongue keeps moving in slow, messy licks through your soaked hole while his finger stays inside, coaxing out every last shudder from your overstimulated body. And when you’ve finally stopped shaking, he eases you off him. You sink beside him, spent and panting with a thin layer of sweat covering your body.
When you manage to lift your head to look at him, you find his lips are slick with your fluids, and a damn smirk craved across them.
“See? “ his voice is husky and sounds far too pleased with himself. “It wasn’t that bad.”
And gods, he’s right. You’ve never felt so thoroughly tasted.
SUMMARY: After getting various comments about your poor filming skills for your OF page, you finally decided to give in and reach out to the one person that could help you with your problem. However, what started as your roommate just helping you to film your video turned into you begging him to fuck you.
How long would it take for Jungkook to finally give in? After all, all he ever wanted was to be closer to you.
WC: 8,7k
WARNINGS: smut, masturbation, fingering, voyeurism, dirty talk, nerdy!jungkook going from shy to freaky to shy and freaky again. Pet names, jungkook with glasses (that NEEDS a warning idc), jk being completely whipped for reader but also mocking her and being a little shit when he got into it. Use of “good girl” (1), mention of only fans and adult content. If I’m missing something lmk!
A/N: part one is finally out!! I honestly feel nervous to post again and I really hope you guys enjoy this one! lmk what you think in the comments or sending an ask, enjoy ur reading <3!
masterlist
“I need a favor.”
You barging into his room along with those three words were enough to break the quiet and cozy atmosphere that your roommate had going on. He was sitting in his gaming chair, with his headphones covering his ears and glasses slightly falling off the bridge of his nose. Jungkook looked startled, with his big, round eyes staring at you as if he had been caught doing something he shouldn’t, when in reality a loud and violent video game was the only thing playing on his computer screen.
“H-Hi to you too.” His response and his rapid way of blinking let you know that Jungkook was not expecting you to come into his room unannounced, however, there was not a single complaint flying out of his mouth. More often than not, you would invade his personal space with your overenthusiastic self, chatting his ear off about some new gossip from your class that he was not really interested in, but Jungkook being Jungkook could never tell you to shut up, even when it was needed. “What do you need? Is everything okay?”
A pang of guilt spread through your chest by the way he completely abandoned whatever game he was playing to put his undivided attention on you when he noticed how distressed you were; what you were about to ask him was far from being a serious or urgent matter, but rather something that might bring chaos and awkwardness into your friendship. In all honesty, you weren’t even sure why you decided to entertain the idea of asking for Jungkook’s help. All you knew is that Eunbi, your best friend, was very eloquent while suggesting your roommate as a solution for your problem, and while you weren’t exactly desperate, you didn’t want to spend more time thinking of other alternatives either.
So here you were, hoping that the following minutes would remain the same after you inevitably tell Jungkook the truth.
“Y/n…? Is everything alright?” He asked once again, snapping you out of your thoughts.
“Yes, right! It is. I just…” A frustrated sigh escaped your lips. “I need a huge favor, but I don’t know how to tell you.”
“You know you can tell me anything, I’m here for whatever you need.” His tender smile made that guilty feeling become stronger.
You tried to find the words to voice the idea running through your mind without making this situation painfully weird, but nothing could really prevent the inevitable awkward silence that was bound to be installed between you two once you put it all out.
The favor and the help you needed was regarding your line of work, something that Jungkook was pretty much aware of, but never fully involved in. Being a creator for adult content, more specifically for only fans, was already hard enough to explain to him when he moved in with you a few years ago, but somehow you managed to make it seem as if it wasn’t a big deal. You thought that it would be a dealbreaker, that Jungkook would run far away from you and never even consider being your roommate when you told him you made content for only fans, however, after a few days, he willingly showed up at your apartment with boxes full of his belongings and a shy smile, telling you that he was ready to live with you.
That memory was the only thing keeping you from running out of his room and hiding inside your own until the embarrassment subsided, instead, it helped you to follow through with your plan and accept the outcome of this, like the confident woman that you were.
However, the long pauses that you were taking to organize your ideas were starting to worry the brown-eyed boy in front of you. He’s never seen you like this before, hesitating and so unsure of yourself. Your confident demeanor would often throw him off, and the way you so surely carried yourself wherever you went was a stark contrast to his shy and awkward way of living, but that’s something Jungkook was used to, that’s how things worked between you two. You were the easygoing, extroverted friend that would strike up a conversation with almost anyone, while he was the quiet, shy and reserved friend that was ready to lend his shoulder if you ever needed a good cry.
But this, the way you were so notoriously nervous and preoccupied was something new for Jungkook, a new side of you that he never thought he would see.
“Listen, Y/n, you don’t have to tell me right now. I’ll help you with anything you need, but if you feel like it’s too much in this moment, you can talk to me about it whenever you’re rea–”
“I need you to help me film a video for my page.”
There, you said it, it was all set in stone, with no way to go back. No backtracking, no regretting, no way to undo it. Your words hung in the air with a heavy weight falling upon you two. If Jungkook was startled when you came into his room, he was completely dumbfounded after listening to what you needed.
“Co-Come again.” It wasn’t the smartest way to ask you to repeat yourself, but it sure fit into the conversation. “I-I mean, are you seriously asking me to do what I think you’re asking?”
He wasn’t stupid, Jungkook was familiar with your work, and while he didn’t consume your content, apart from a few pictures he looked at while scrolling through your page out of curiosity, the boy knew exactly what your deal was. Posting your whole body on the internet for almost anyone to see was the easiest way to describe your job; making videos, taking pictures that left little to the imagination for the people that came across your profile, even going as far as hosting lives to chat with your followers and sometimes cater to their filthy needs. That’s the kind of job you had, the kind of things you were willing to do, and it was crystal clear how comfortable and okay you were with it.
Jungkook had never judged you or questioned what you did for a living, not once in the years he’s known you, mainly out of respect and because it was none of his business, but also because he didn’t want to think or imagine the things you did in front of the camera. Now, however, he might have to, because what you were asking of him was more than what he was expecting from you.
Asking him to cook dinner, fix your laptop or pick up his clothes from the bathroom floor was okay with him, he could do it in a heartbeat, but filming a video for your secret page was something he was not ready for.
“I know it sounds crazy, believe me. I actually thought about this for a few days, but I wouldn’t ask you to do it if I truly didn’t need your help.” You were almost ready to beg him at this point. It has been weeks since the last time you posted a video and the lack of content was starting to upset your followers. There was really no other option. “I swear I’ll try to make it as normal as possible, but I really need you”
She needs me.
Jungkook had to look away from you, the pleading eyes you were sending his way were starting to affect him more than they should have, and while he was usually willing to lend you a helping hand at any moment, this time he really needed some time to think about it.
“I don’t know, Y/n…” He hesitated, taking his glasses off for a brief moment and rubbing his eyes. “I mean, why me? Doesn’t Eunbi usually help you with that stuff?”
“Yeah, she does, but it’s mainly to help me choose an outfit, makeup or the color of the lights. She doesn’t know about cameras like you do. And lately my followers have been complaining about my poor filming skills.” You finally explained your reasons behind it all. “You’re a photography major after all, wouldn’t you know about angles, settings, and all that stuff better than us?”
You took some cautious steps towards your roommate before making him turn around in his chair only for you to sit on his lap. You were aware that it was an unfair strategy to use on him, but desperate times call for desperate measures, don’t they?
A blaring alarm went off inside of Jungkook’s head the moment you became painfully close to him, invading his personal space. Then again, it was not out of the ordinary for you to be touchy-feely with him, but the boy still had a hard time getting used to your overly affectionate demeanor. His hands were eager to lay on the warm skin of your waist and feel your soft flesh against his, nonetheless, he knew better than crossing that line. If Jungkook wanted to maintain his sanity, he needed to remain still for as long as possible.
“Would you be a sweetheart and help me with this, Kookie?
Fuck, not that nickname.
Jungkook melted right on the spot whenever you called him that or any other short variant of his name. He was weak for you and both of you were aware of it.
“I…” It was a hard decision, but how could he say no to you when you were looking at him as if he was your only saviour. “Okay, yes. I’ll help you, but just this time. I will teach you everything you need to know to make your videos better, but next time you’ll be on your own.”
“Oh my god! Thank you, Kook, thank you so much.” Your arms found their way to his neck, engulfing the shy boy into an effusive hug. “I promise I’ll repay you with anything you want.”
“We can figure that out afterwards, don’t worry about it now.” He assured you with a sheepish grin while his hands finally reciprocated the affection by timidly patting your back.
The more you stayed in that position, the more Jungkook wondered if he was really ready to take such a big step into your dynamic, however, there was no way out. You were already counting on him.
What have I gotten myself into?
The following days were spent trying to figure out the logistics and set a schedule that would work for the both of you. Despite what anyone would think, Jungkook was a very busy guy, between his major, work and tutoring lessons he offered three days a week, he had little to no time to hangout with his friends or even watch a movie with you. Therefore, Saturday seemed like the safest option to film the video. Usually Jungkook would play online games with his friends during the weekends as it was the only time he could actually have some free time for himself, but he was willing to sacrifice one day just this time, especially if it was for you.
The boy was in a constant fight or flight mode during those days, overthinking every single minute of his day about how terribly wrong the whole thing could go. He had a plan from A to Z for any unfortunate situation that might occur, only to prevent ruining your friendship any further. Jungkook was so anxious and absorbed in the predicament that he didn’t even notice when Saturday finally arrived.
In a blink of an eye both of you were already making sure that everything was ready to start filming. You would use his professional camera instead of your phone to enhance the quality of the video; he helped you find the perfect spot in your room, void of your personal stuff or anything that could be used to reveal your real identity. He even showed you the angles that you could use to prevent your face from showing but still giving your followers what they wanted. The setting and ambience was perfect, with the perfect amount of lighting and the right color to make the whole moment more enjoyable for your viewers.
“Whenever you’re ready.” His soft voice echoed through the room while you were doing some touch ups to your makeup. Jungkook was doing a good job with keeping a straight face and calm attitude. It was barely impossible to tell how nervous and anxious he was at that precise moment.
“I’m ready.” You stood up from the chair in front of your vanity, and started your way towards the place where you would be filming. It was a corner decorated with a bunch of pillows and a fluffy blanket to make it comfortable for you. “I should take this off now, shouldn’t I?” A nervous giggle escaped your mouth while pointing to your robe.
It would be the first time you would present yourself like this to Jungkook, at least that you were aware of. The boy had already seen more of your body that he would’ve preferred, thanks to his curiosity, however, this time it was different, it wasn’t a simple picture of you in lingerie or with your bare chest showing. It was you in the flesh, quite literally. Naked and ready to put your body under a plethora of sensations he could only think of —he shouldn’t even think about it in all honesty—, along with sounds that up until this moment were only part of his imagination.
“Do-Do you want me to like… turn around?”
It was an innocent and genuine question, yet you couldn’t help but laugh.
“There’s no point. You’ll have to see me to check that the filming is going right, either way.” You waved him off, trying to ease his worries. “It’s okay, don’t read too much into it, you’re only being a good friend and helping me.”
“Sure… a good friend.”
Why does it bother me so much when she calls me that?
Oh, if only he understood.
“Okay, here goes nothing.” In a swift motion you undid the knot of your robe, taking the piece of clothing completely off to show your body covered in the prettiest set of red lingerie that you owned.
Your tits were engulfed by the soft lace of your bra, adorned with a red bow right in the center, drawing more attention to your cleavage. Your panties left little to the imagination; see through lace covering just enough to tease the viewers and make them crave for more of your beautiful body. In hindsight, it wasn’t the sexiest or most elegant set out there, but you liked the way it enhanced your features just the right way to feel comfortable and sexy with your body. And as it turns out, Jungkook thought exactly the same.
The boy could not tear his eyes, covered with his round glasses, away from your figure, taking his time to let the way you presented yourself before him sink in. So bare and vulnerable, yet so sexy and confident. You looked incredibly stunning, beautiful, gorgeous, delectable… words were not enough to describe what he thought of you the moment your robe fell to your feet. However, along with appreciating your body came the realization that helping you film this video would be the hardest task he would ever do.
How can I do this to myself?
“Does it look good?” A very dangerous question, but it was intended to ease the tension already forming in between the two. The longer Jungkook took to answer, the more you wondered if you chose the correct outfit “Should I change?”
“No!” His answer, then, was definitive. “I-I mean, you don’t really need to change, unless you want to. It looks… good, very good on you.” He used one finger to push his glasses up the bridge of his nose.
His cheeks turning red was something you could not ignore, it brought a sweet smile to your face.
“Alright then, let’s get this over with!”
A faint fighting came out of your roommate’s mouth while waiting for you to position yourself in front of the camera. The moment you stepped into the comfortable yet sexy set your whole demeanor changed. Your cheerful smile was replaced with a cheeky smirk; your eyes were charged with this sensual energy that made the boy in front of you swallow harshly; your velvety voice was like a siren chant, luring him to step closer and fall into the trap.
Jungkook was mesmerized by the nonchalant way you executed every single movement, as if it was second nature for you, and it sure was. It was part of your routine, part of your lifestyle. The brown-haired man was only now discovering what it was like, but you’ve been under the spotlight for quite some time. Your hands knew perfectly well the path they had to go through to get to the most sensitive parts of your body. Your fingers knew just the right amount of pressure they had to put into your flesh to elicit those sinful sounds. There was no hesitation, no second thoughts, you knew what to do and you loved every single second of it.
Jungkook was entranced by your performance, hands curled into fists to prevent them from acting on their own; cheeks tinted with a rosy color that got lost in the red lights adorning your room. His eyes were glued to your fingers dancing up and down your sides, stealing faint sighs out of you. He had a love-hate reaction to how long you were taking to strip out of your bra. It was sensual, teasing, yet it made the boy fall into a desperate state, eager to see you fully, in all your glory.
“I’ve missed you guys so much.” Your sultry voice sent a shiver down his spine, but the words coming out of your mouth were a cold reminder that he wasn’t there as a viewer but rather as a helper. “It’s been so long since the last time we saw each other.”
A small gasp fell from your lips when you finally pushed down the cups of your bra to display your bare chest. Your hardened nipples were glazed with your saliva after running your wet fingers over them. Little by little you let loose, forgetting that Jungkook was even there, watching you touch yourself and talk to the camera with the most cliche and nasty lines you’ve mastered up until now. Once again, it was part of your routine, and in that routine you needed to have some sort of interaction with your viewers. But truth be told, Jungkook was loving it. He loved how free you looked, and probably felt. He loved how careless you were, how you never hesitated to take a step further and further until you were fully naked, panting and moaning while your fingers graced your inner thighs with a tender touch. He loved it because you were in your element, you were in full control of yourself and body, and that was beyond attractive for him.
“Shit.” A breathy moan elicited from your soft lips when your fingers ran over your folds with a feather-like touch. “I’m so wet.”
Fuck.
Jungkook mentally cursed himself for getting into this situation. It was so hard to watch you in such a lewd way and not be able to get involved. But then again, even thinking of the possibility of being the reason behind your sinful sounds was beyond wrong. You were his friend, his roommate for fuck’s sake, he shouldn’t be thinking of you in that way.
He shouldn’t think of how beautiful you’d look under him, writhing and chanting his…
“Jungkook.”
Fuck, yes.
“Jungkook!”
If only I could make her sound like that.
“Kook!! I’m talking to you.”
Your urgent tone snapped him out of his dirty thoughts. His eyes connected with yours, with a disoriented expression as he fixed his glasses.
“Shit, sorry, I just… zoned out for a bit.” He tried to excuse himself, but the way his voice cracked in the middle of the sentence prevented it from sounding sincere. “Wh-What were you saying?”
You chuckled, deciding to ignore his reaction and cutting right to the point.
“I can’t get into it.”
“What do you mean?”
His tilted head and innocent, round eyes made your frustration lessen. The whole time you let your hands run free over your skin you were trying —almost begging, to get in the mood to continue with the video, but as it turned out, you were nowhere near turned on. It was disappointing — after putting so much effort into it and gathering the courage to ask Jungkook for help, you couldn’t even get aroused.
What is wrong with me today?
With a deep sigh, you sat right up and covered your naked skin with the fluffy blanket next to you. “What I mean is that I can’t get in the mood to, you know… do it.”
“I’m not following.” Jungkook shook his head slowly, trying to comprehend the message that you were sending him. “Do you need anything? Are you uncomfortable?”
“No, it’s not that. I just can’t get turned on.” Plain and simple. He surely would get what you were trying to say.
“You mean that you’re not–”
“Oh my god, I’m not wet enough to continue filming!”
A pregnant silence fell into the room. Neither of you dared to move or say a single thing after that. Jungkook was rendered speechless after your confession and you could not even look at his face due to the embarrassment you were experiencing right in that moment. Maybe it was too much information, but then again, you were literally naked in front of him, voicing out your frustrations to the only other person in the room wouldn’t be that bad, would it?
Well, apparently it was, especially because it was not just anyone but Jungkook. The boy who not only had to endure seeing you touch yourself but also had to listen to your ridiculous complaints about not being aroused.
“Bu-But you just… you said you were…” He couldn’t even finish his sentence. “Fuck, I feel so lost right now.”
The brown-eyed boy was so confused, if your facial expressions and sounds were anything to go by, Jungkook could swear on his life that you were enjoying it. Your frustrated reaction and straightforward confession threw him off; how come he was fighting his own instincts and urges to not come right on the spot while you were faking it all along? Maybe it was due to being the first time in such an environment with you. Would your viewers know when you’re not being genuine and that’s why you stopped? Or was he really that clueless to women’s pleasure?
“I was acting.” You confessed. “Sometimes I talk like that to help myself and get in the mood, but clearly today is not working for me.” A dejected groan flew out of your mouth.
“Can I, I don’t know, help you with that?” He shyly asked, “Maybe it’s because I’m here. Perhaps having another person in the room is making it difficult for you, I can leave…”
You shook your head, “No, if anything, your presence is helping me to feel somehow relaxed.” You thought about it for a second, trying to come up with a quick solution. “Maybe we can try something else.”
“What would that be?”
It took you a few seconds to voice your idea, mainly out of fear and nervousness due to how much it could damage your friendship. In all honesty, involving Jungkook in the filming was already damaging and risky enough, but it was still within the limits you mentally established for this situation. What you were about to ask him, however, was beyond those limits.
“Could you step closer?” You waited a few seconds before developing your whole idea. “I mean, could you film me from a closer angle?”
“Would that really help?” He asked in a shaky voice.
“We could try and see.”
And see he did. Jungkook moved from his position behind the camera, trying to get his equipment and himself as close to you as possible —losing a little bit of his sanity in the process— with the utmost caution and respect. He didn’t want to overstep the boundaries that were established before starting filming, he also didn’t want to do a wrong movement and throw everything to waste. Jeon had the opportunity to see your body from a closer perspective, and albeit unsure, he managed to keep calm and resume his work.
“Is this okay?” Your roommate asked, angling the camera to focus solely on the space between your legs, right where your fingers wished to disappear in. “Tell me if it becomes too much, okay?”
“Will do.”
After listening to your words of approval and making sure you felt comfortable with the new position, Jungkook continued filming you and every single movement you did. It was hypnotizing how you so confidently went back to your previous endeavors to get you in the mood. Your noises sounded sexier, your breathing was heavier, your eyes were closed tighter than before, willing yourself to enjoy the moment thoroughly and push back the feeling of being so exposed to the only man you swore would never see you like this.
Jungkook tried to stay calm and collected, cool and relaxed, even when he felt the air getting stuck in his throat when he watched your fingers dive into your warm walls through the lenses of the camera.
“Fuck…” He breathed out without realizing. The boy was quick to cover his mouth with his hand when he noticed your quizzical look. “Sorry.” Jungkook mouthed and focused on his work as the cameraman.
You continued with your ministrations, ignoring the heat in your cheeks that wasn’t exactly due to finally getting worked up from your touches. Your fingers moved in and out of your cunt, slowly and carefully, as if you were calculating what you were going to do next. A faint moan fell from your lips, eliciting a raspy groan from the boy in front of you.
Right in that moment you noticed how aggravated Jungkook was. Eyes shining in the dark like a pair of beautiful stars but with a glint of lust covering them along with his glasses; lips parted, letting out his heavy breath and small sighs. His hands were twitching at his sides, eager to move and, most likely, to touch what he was not even allowed to taste.
Maybe this was more than he could handle, maybe you shouldn’t have asked him to help you with this video, perhaps this was already creating a dent in your friendship that you were nowhere close to know how to fix, but the way he was looking at you was nothing you had ever seen before, at least not from him. There was hunger, need and desperation mixed in his hard glare, and as much as you wanted to deny and ignore it, his reaction was doing wonders on you. And so a new idea was installed in your mind. Your friendship was already beyond salvation, how bad would it be to make a last request?
“Kook…” You breathed out, “I need you.”
It was so subtle, so fleeting the smugness that covered his face that you barely noticed. His eyes widened and his lips moved like that of a fish trying to survive out of the water, he didn’t know what to do, much less what to say.
“Me?” He whispered, completely clueless of the effect he was having on you in that moment. You nodded, fingers stilling in between your legs. “Wh-What do you mean?”
You sat up, stopping the filming once again. “Exactly what I said, I need you… I-I need your help with something else. You can say no, but… I would be forever grateful to you if you said yes.”
Jungkook was putting to use his 128 IQ score to try and understand what you were hinting at, but none the wiser, he needed the words spelled out to him to get your idea. And so, as softly as possible, you explained what your need was actually about. You noticed the way his body reacted to you and the show you were putting on for your viewers but more specifically for him; it was painfully obvious how much he desired you, and in all honesty, you weren’t any better.
Ever since you two started living together, you swore that you wouldn’t act on the small and silly crush you developed for him after meeting for the first time. It was just a silly attraction that wasn’t worth the hassle of getting involved with your roommate; his built body and big biceps drove you crazy, and you couldn’t turn a blind eye to the intricate tattoos adorning his arm, which was such a stark contrast to the type of man he made himself out to be; the lip ring shining from his mouth was so painfully enticing, and more often than not, you found yourself wondering what it would feel like against your lips while kissing the life out of him. And God bless the person that gets you started on how much you loved those black rimmed glasses that adorned his eyes almost 24/7, giving him a geeky look that would never fail to make you weak in the knees. But all of those features, as well as the lewd scenarios conquering your mind minutes before going to sleep, had made it difficult for you to stay in your lane all this time. Tonight, however, might be your one and only chance to turn your dirty dreams into reality, only and only if Jungkook agreed to your idea.
“I don’t want this to ruin our friendship.” He murmured, looking down at the floor and avoiding your hopeful eyes glaring at him. You reached out for him, your soft hands coming in contact with his covered thighs while you kneeled in front of him. “Y/n… don’t do this to me.” His whole body stiffened, fighting the urge to jump your bones and turn you into a crying mess just like he always imagined.
“You don’t want me like that, Kookie?” You so innocently asked, lashes fluttering against your cheekbones. “Is that the real problem, hm?” Your hands were sliding up and down his thighs, teasing him.
“God, no.” He answered breathlessly, “You have no fucking idea how bad I want you…”
“Then why don’t you show me? What’s stopping you, hm?” Your cheek resting on his jean-covered thigh elicited a soft gasp from your roommate. “It's just a small favor.”
“I… fuck, you’re driving me crazy right now.” He ran a hand through his hair, pulling at the ends while letting out a frustrated groan. Jungkook took off his glasses while rubbing his eyes before looking at you again. “You have to promise… you really have to promise that it will be a one-time thing. No more favors after this, at least not of this caliber.”
You nodded eagerly, looking at him with a spark in your eyes. “I promise, just this time.”
“Okay,” Jungkook nodded, “I’ll help you with anything you need.” One of his hands, albeit shakily, reached out to push away a strand of hair falling into your face.
With a wide grin you pull his hand to get him closer to you. It was a bit hard to get his face and the majority of his body out of frame, but both of you managed. Jungkook sat behind you, with his built back leaning on the soft pillows while yours was resting on his firm chest. Both of his strong arms wrapped around your body while his hesitant hands touched your skin lightly.
In all honesty he didn’t know what to do, it felt unreal to be this close to you, especially under those conditions. Jeon was trying so hard to figure out what to do next that the tension conquering his body was noticed by you.
“Relax, Kook, do what you would do with any other girl.” You tried to reassure him while softly stroking his forearm, but the silence in between you two was making you feel uneasy. “You’ve done this before, right?”
Should he answer honestly? The short answer would be yes, he’s done it before; the long one though, would be that he only did it once when he lost his virginity at a random party his friends at the time invited him to. Jungkook couldn’t even remember the name of the girl or how she looked, all he could recall from that time was the awkwardness and how short it lasted. Jeon wasn’t sure that he could live up to your expectations, and while he was not clueless to how it worked, he doubted his performance would be as amazing as that of all your previous sexual partners, which caused part of his nervousness.
He was reading too much into it whereas you were starting to feel desperate and needy. You had the boy of your dreams right behind you with his hands very close to the place that was basically begging to be touched, but not much has happened. It was a bit disappointing how long it was taking him to act, but you also understood that it might not be an easy task to do, especially if it was your roommate doing it.
“Let’s go with an easy start, okay? I’ll lead.” Your hands reached out for his, guiding his right hand towards one of your tits. “You can explore my body as much as you want, don’t be afraid to touch.” And just as if you were reading his mind, you added, “Don’t think too much about it, I won’t be mad if this doesn’t go as planned.”
“Okay.” With a deep sigh he let his fingers feel your skin up, touching, caressing, pinching even.
His slender fingers wrapped around one of your already hardened nipples, toying with it, which elicited a soft gasp from you. His other hand slowly reached for your other tit, trying to stimulate both at the same time.
“Yes… like that, Kook.” Your praising words were helping him to build up his confidence. The more you praised him, the more adventurous he got, letting his hands explore the entirety of your body.
After a few more minutes of playing with your boobs, his hands finally started to drift south, with feather-like touches here and there before reaching your tender thighs. His big hands looked very attractive against your flesh, like the prettiest accessory. The one that was cladded with a bunch of tattoos started to descend more and more, landing small smacks on your inner thigh.
“Oh…” you breathed out, a bit surprised by the sudden move.
“Sorry, should I not have done that?” Jungkook asked, retrieving both of his hands.
“No, no, no!” You pulled them right back where they were placed before. “Please continue… I really liked what you were doing.”
“Okay.”
With a more confident attitude, Jungkook started to touch your thighs, kneading your skin while his hot breath was hitting the back of your neck. In all honesty, it all felt surreal, you never thought that a moment like this would ever happen, that you would have the same boy that you had fantasized about many times before touching you and willing to please you.
“You can use more than your hands, you know?” You whispered softly, closing your eyes due to how good everything was feeling.
“Are you sure?” He murmured really close to your ear, sending shivers through your body. You hummed in response, leaning more and more into his touch. “So, it would be okay if I do this.” His lips graced your neck with a faint kiss, eliciting a small gasp from you. “Or this,” a firmer kiss was placed right under your ear, Jungkook’s lips moving skillfully. “And since I’m at it, you surely wouldn’t mind me doing this,” His teeth sank into your skin suddenly. “Right?”
“Shit…” You moaned out loud, “N-No, I… I don’t mind, at all.”
A husky chuckle erupted from his throat, “Good.” His hands kept moving in between your legs, now finally reaching your needy cunt. “Are you sure you want me to do anything I want to you, Y/n?” You once again hummed, unable to properly answer due to his touches. “I think I might need to hear you say it, before I go any further.”
If he was trying to get your consent or just teasing you, you didn’t know, but you were sure of one thing, you needed to feel any part of him inside of you. Now.
“Fuck, yes, I’m completely sure, don’t make me wait anymore, please.”
It was the please added at the end that really did it for him, the way your needy and desperate voice echoed through the room was enough for Jungkook to give you what you wanted.
He finally pushed one of his fingers inside your velvety walls, slowly sliding in and out with enough easiness that got you wondering just then how wet you were before he started touching you. Your whole body squirmed, reacting at how great it felt to be touched like that. Curses, moans and gasps were falling from your lips, creating the most sensual cacophony.
“You like that?” His husky voice rang through your ears, earning an effusive nod from you, “You like that I’m touching you like this, hm?” You could feel the smug smile against your skin, right under your earlobe, “Maybe I should try harder, since you’re not answering to me.” With no further warning, Jungkook added a second finger, stretching you out deliciously. He picked up his pace as well, pushing in and out with such vigor that got you sinking your nails into your palms.
“Oh my god!” You breathed out.
Where was this sudden change in attitude coming from? Not a minute ago he was acting shy and reserved, as if he had never touched a woman before, as if he didn’t have it in him to wreck you in the way you wanted. But now, that whole act was left behind and there seemed to be no trace of the innocent and nerdy Jungkook you thought you knew, only this suddenly confident and teasing boy, ready to make you fall apart on his fingers.
“That’s not quite the answer I’m looking for.” Jeon goaded you on to the response he wanted from you. “Come on, pretty, tell me how much you like it.”
“Fuck…” You cursed out loud, “I-I can’t.”
It was difficult for you to concentrate on gathering the words that your roommate wished to hear due to his fingers moving deliciously inside of you. He was hitting the right spots with his long and slender digits, over and over again to the point that tears were pooling in the corner of your eyes.
“Hm, and why is that?” Jungkook questioned with feigned innocence in his voice. “Is it really that difficult for you to speak?”
You nodded desperately, looking into his eyes right through those slutty glasses you adored so much. “I can’t… I-I can’t con… centrate.” You finally admitted.
A mocking chuckle flew out of his mouth, his fingers never relenting, “Poor little you.”
“Ah, fuck, Kook.” Your sounds were becoming dirtier, needier, more naughty and desperate as the familiar hot sensation started to invade your body. You knew your release was coming with such rapidness and ease.
It was astonishing how Jungkook could so effortlessly get you to your breaking point, when it took you several minutes to even get aroused. You wanted to believe that it was all due to your previous touching, but deep down you knew that doing it on your own would never get you the pleasure you were experimenting in that moment.
“Shit, you’re squeezing my fingers so much.” He pointed out, struggling to move thanks to the firm grip your walls had on his digits. “So tight and warm.”
If only he knew that his way of talking was only contributing to your forthcoming release. Your eyes could not look away from his face. His hard features and the way his lustful orbs were looking right down at you got you in a trance, one that you didn’t want to get out. The faint smirk on the corner of his lips, along with the lip ring were once again taunting you, tempting you; threatening you with a good time, and just as you were about to reach and find out if your assumptions were correct, Jungkook leaned down and captured your lips in a harsh kiss.
Kissing you for the first time was life-changing, or so he would say, because despite all the girls –only a few actually– he has ever kissed or been intimate with, Jungkook has never felt like this with any of them, so addicted, so eager to taste more of you; craving you in ways that he probably shouldn’t.Your lips were so soft and sweet, and it was right in that moment that he realized that it would be a living hell to go back to normal after getting a taste of you. The way your mouth was chasing after him when he pulled away briefly due to running out of air, it drove him crazy, making him feel light in the head. Being able to see that look in your face as your orgasm was approaching, while your puffy, red lips were begging him to kiss you more was, in fact, something that Jungkook would never forget.
Kissing Jungkook for the first time felt exactly like you imagined, dangerous and messy. It was dangerous because it was right in that moment that you realized that there was no way to go back to your normal routine after this; it wasn’t only because of the intimate act that you both decided to engage in, but because there was no way in hell that you would let him go on with his life without having him like that again. Your previous words became an empty promise the more his lips devoured yours, kissing and biting as if his life depended on it. The coldness of his lip ring was making you shudder and chase for more; you finally got an answer to your question: it felt amazing while kissing. On the other hand, it was messy due to the both of you being so eager to feel more of one another; saliva coating your lips while his tongue finally made an appearance inside your mouth, making you squirm and fight the urge to burst right in that moment.
“I’m so close.” You announced against his lips, panting ridiculously loud.
“You’re gonna come for me, baby?” It was so strange to hear him talk to you like that, using pet names and saying things that Jungkook would never even think of saying in any other situation. “Wanna come on my fingers, hm?”
“Yes, yes, please.” The begging and whiny voice almost made him come in his pants, but Jeon managed to maintain his composure.
“Go on, let go, baby, but keep those pretty eyes on me.” Jungkook’s free hand came up to lay right under your jaw, squeezing lightly but firmly enough to keep you in place. You didn’t have to be told twice, the moment his hand came in contact with your hot skin you felt the waves of your orgasm crash over you. “That’s it… you’re doing so good.”
Fuck, if only he could talk to you like that all the time.
“Oh my god, Jungkook!” You moaned, closing your thighs tightly, capturing his hand in between your legs. “Shit, it feels… so good.”
“I know, doll, I know.”
Not once did your eyes look away from him, not even when the tears started to spill down your face like the most beautiful raindrops, all due to the overwhelming feeling or your orgasm. You couldn’t even grasp the fact that you just came on Jungkook’s fingers, or that your body was shaking uncontrollably while his hand kept moving rather slowly, going from sliding up and down your soaked folds to rubbing your swollen clit. Even in your post-orgasmic state you recognized that one was not enough; as good as his fingers were, you needed more of him. It was more a want than a need, but you couldn’t finish the day without knowing what his cock felt like inside of you.
Craving.
That’s the best way you could describe this feeling; you were craving his body on top of yours, even under, sideways, it didn’t matter, but you had to have more, even if it was just for the night. Even if it would leave a burning memory in your brain to fantasize about in the solitude of your room, when your hands were the only solace for your lewd desires and obscene scenarios playing in your head.
And so, letting the wild side of you speak, you uttered a sentence that was bound to change the whole course of your friendship.
“Jungkook…” You called for him, getting his attention right back on your face rather than in the space in between your legs. After listening to his humming you added “I want you to fuck me.”
His hand came to a halt, fingers not moving an inch, completely frozen in place. His brown eyes were now coated with a glint of fear and uneasiness. Jungkook had been taken by surprise a lot during the day, but right there in that moment, with you eagerly waiting for his response while looking at him with perfect innocent eyes, it had to be the most unexpected thing that could have happened to him.
A deep silence fell in the room once again, with Jungkook quickly retrieving his hands from your body. It took him several minutes to come up with something to say, something that wasn’t pure stuttering and nonsense coming out of his mouth.
“I-I beg your pardon?” His feeble voice rang through your ears due to the proximity, otherwise you wouldn’t have heard him. “I don’t think you understand what you’re asking me.”
You sat up straight, turning in your place to be face to face with Jungkook. “I’m fully aware that what I’m asking of you might be too much, but I honestly can’t ignore how much I want you, Kook.” You leaned forward, straddling his hips and resting both of your hands on his shoulders. “I thought you liked this too.”
It was funny how minutes ago he was completely into you, adamant on making you come and talking with his sultry voice until you fell apart on his fingers and now he was back to his shy and reserved persona; stuttering while trying to gather his thoughts. There were two sides of Jungkook as it seems. One was simply Jungkook, the co-founder of a comic club at your local library; the boy that spent a whole night trying to recover a document you foolishly deleted the night before you had to submit it. Jungkook who always pulled you close whenever you walked near a group of guys whose eyes were glued to your legs, and the one that didn’t hesitate to go and buy you a bunch of snacks as a way of comfort when a date you were so excited to go on went terribly wrong. That was the Jungkook you knew and adored, the one that was ready to do anything for you, being at your beck and call, but that also would get upset if you interrupted him while watching his favorite show.
And then, there was Jeon Jungkook, the boy that rocked your entire world with a few touches. The boy that spoke to you in such a sensual voice with the craziest sentences that you would never imagine him uttering. The Jungkook that called you baby, doll, pretty and kissed you so passionately that you almost forgot your name. The same man that unexpectedly acted with confidence, sure of himself and what he was doing, moving his skillful fingers in and out of your cunt with an ease that left you beyond surprised. There was the side of Jungkook that you didn’t know, and that was exactly why you needed to have more of him.
“It’ll be just this time, remember? Why not go all the way out and have a little fun yourself?” You reiterated your previous promise, even though you knew it was far from being the last time having each other like this. Without thinking too much about it, you started to grind your soaked cunt on top of his crotch; hips moving slowly to rub deliciously on top of him. “So what do you say, hm?”
You could see his self-control starting to crumble the more you rubbed yourself on him. His hardening cock felt wonderful under your hot pussy, along with the rough material of his jeans, because yes, he’s the type of guy to wear jeans while being home, even if he wasn’t expecting anyone to visit him.
You were getting too lost in the sensation, in the way Jungkook was fighting against his own moans escaping his lips or his hips thrusting up into you that you were startled by the weight of his hands on your hips, stilling you in place and preventing you from moving any further.
“I say,” He began with a husky tone, “that you’re making it really difficult to be nice to you.”
Those words caused a shit-eating grin to appear on your face, and with the most seductive voice you could muster you said “I didn’t ask you to be nice to me.” Leaning in closer to his ear you added “I asked you to fuck me… as hard as you possibly can.”
A hiss abandoned his lips while Jungkook’s hands squeezed your hips deliciously tight.
“Is that what you really want, hm? For me to fuck you senseless.” One of his hands weaved through your hair, pulling you away with enough strength to get you to look right into his eyes. “Didn’t think you would be that desperate.” A mocking chuckle echoed through your four walls, bouncing on every corner and back to your warm ears.
“You clearly don’t know everything about me.” You said through gritted teeth, the harsh grip he had on your hair was hurting you in the right way, making you wetter by the second. “Please say yes… I need you so bad, baby.”
It was the first time you called him that, and Jungkook would be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy listening to your sweet voice saying it. He retrieved his hand from your hair, changing his direction to rest his thumb right onto your bottom lip.
“I did promise I would help you with anything you needed, didn’t I?” A playful smirk adorned the corner of his mouth.
“That you did,” You pointed out. “And now you have to keep your promise.”
“Alright, alright. I wouldn’t want you thinking I’m not a man of my word.” Jungkook sighed. “But you have to be good, okay? You gotta be good for me.” His thumb brushed against your bottom lip, ever so slightly, making it bounce right into place after playing with it.
An electrifying rush went down your spine by the way his voice tone changed so quickly. Once again, there was no trace of his shy demeanor as it seemed to blend into this smug attitude growing slowly inside of him. A lazy smile took place on his face while his hand continued to caress your tender skin.
“You’re gonna be my good girl, hm? Do exactly as I say?”
A moan flew out of your mouth, not expecting him to say it so confidently. You nodded effusively, though, wanting nothing more than to follow whatever order he had for you.
Hot cute, he thought, admiring the way you were so eager to agree to anything he said.
“I need you to say it, Y/n. Use your words, sweetheart.”
“I’ll be good, I’ll do anything you ask me to.”
“Alright then, let’s see how much you can handle.”
You’ve spent weeks planning for this day. The bakery order. The string lights. The playlist tailored to every one of Caleb’s favorite songs. A whole night built around making him feel as loved, celebrated, and special as he always makes you feel.
But when your boyfriend steps through the door, none of it matters anymore.
He drops his bag, eyes locking on you like you’re the only thing in the world worth seeing. He barely spares a second glance at the birthday banner above the kitchen. Doesn’t notice the cake, frosted to perfection and waiting on the counter. Not even the presents lined up in a neat little row by the sofa.
All he can focus on is you. Standing there in that dress he’s obsessed with—the one he bought for you and said made you look “dangerous.”
“Happy birthday,” you say, soft and nervous while fidgeting with the black ribbon on the strap of your dress.
He doesn’t answer. You blink and he’s surging toward you like gravity has shifted and his body has no choice but to fall into yours.
Caleb kisses you like he’s starving.
No gentle greeting, no birthday speech about how lucky he is (he’s definitely thinking it, though). Just his mouth crashing into yours, hands gripping your soft waist like he needs to anchor himself while he loses control.
You stumble back blindly, barely registering that he’s walking you toward the wall until your spine hits plaster and his hands are already sliding beneath your dress.
“I’m sorry,” he whines, leaving sloppy kisses along your jaw, your throat, then the top of your cleavage. “I know you planned so much. I saw it. And I swear I love it all. But I can’t—I can’t do any of it right now.”
Your fingers thread into his hair, pulling his head back just enough to see his eyes. His pupils are so dark and dilated that you barely see the rings of vibrant violet around them. Yet through his desire, he manages a needy pout—begging for forgiveness even as he looks ready to fuck you into the wall.
“Caleb, you don’t have to apologize.” Chuckling softly, you brush your fingers through the hair along the nape of his neck. “If this is what you want, then I can’t deny the birthday boy.”
That’s all the permission he needs before he’s back on you again.
“All I’ve thought about today is you,” he groans. “Knew you’d be waitin’ for me, all dolled up. So fuckin’ gorgeous.”
It’s clear he’s getting more and more riled up as his hands wander your body. You love when he gets like this, all slurred words from being drunk on the sight and feel of you. He hasn’t even gotten your dress off yet, but he’s already a mess.
“I don’t want dinner,” he murmurs, fingers trailing up to tickle the band of your panties. “Don’t want cake. Just want you.” His declaration makes you whimper, thighs already pressing together at the sound of his voice—how low it drops, how hungry it sounds. “Please, baby. Wanna taste you. I need it.”
One shaky nod from you is all it takes and then he drops to his knees, eyes locked on yours as he tugs your panties down your legs.
“I’ll make it up to you for ruinin’ your plans,” he says. “Gonna lick this sweet pussy ‘til the candles on that cake melt.”
You barely manage a breath before his mouth is on you.
There’s no buildup, no teasing. He’s too impatient to take his time—and he already has plans to fuck your cunt with his tongue all night long anyway, so he doesn’t need to savor this.
He devours you, tongue parting your folds, hot and wet and focused as he sucks on your clit like he’s trying to get drunk off the taste of you. His large hands envelop your thighs, keeping you still as you shake against the wall.
It’s barely been two minutes of his lips on you and it already feels like you’re close to coming. The way his head is buried beneath the frilly skirt of your dress, his fingers digging into your plush skin—it’s so filthy that it makes the pressure build in the pit of your stomach.
His tongue keeps flicking your clit with a single-minded focus on making you come as hard and fast as humanly possible. The devastating rhythm has you gushing all over his lips while you cry his name. If you could see him right now, you’d catch the sinful sight of your juices mixed with his spit as it trails down his chin and neck.
“Fuck,” you gasp, hips stuttering forward. “Caleb, you’re gonna make me–”
“Do it,” he growls against your pussy. His words are muffled while he’s unwilling to part from your flesh for even a second. “Come f’me…”
Your orgasm hits hard, too fast, the pleasure spiking so sharp that your legs buckle as he groans against you. And Caleb keeps licking and sucking you through it like he wants to wring you dry.
He stands before your knees fully give out, catching you with one strong arm around your waist. You desperately try to suck in deep breaths, but they catch in your throat at the sight of his slicked up mouth and chin—coupled with lust-blown eyes that say he only wants more.
“You taste so sweet,” he murmurs. “Better than cake, I bet.” Then he kisses you—tongue and all—and you moan into it, dizzy from how quickly you reached your peak.
He lifts you into his arms effortlessly and carries you to the bedroom, shedding clothes with barely restrained urgency. His shirt hits the floor. His belt clatters across the carpet (god, it’s so hot when he undoes it with just one hand).
He kisses you between every hurried step, mouthing every patch of skin he can reach without ever slowing down. A quick bite on your bottom lip. Then he sucks harshly on the sensitive spot under your ear, surely trying to leave a mark that lasts.
When your back hits the bed, you reach for his cock already peeking out between the unzipped top of his pants. He’s already achingly hard, already leaking enough precum to make the lazy glide of your hand so smooth and slick.
Caleb shudders from your touch and whispers, “Need you, baby. Need you so bad I can’t think straight.”
You don’t keep him waiting any longer. He hikes your dress up around your hips while you guide him to your entrance. And then he pushes inside fully with one deep stroke.
“Fuck, yes,” he groans, bracing himself over you, arms trembling. “God, you feel so good. So perfect—always so wet for me.”
His thrusts start fast. Like he can’t slow down even if he wants to. The tip of his cock drags against your g-spot so deliciously that your eyes roll back. And he watches in awe, mesmerized by the way you moan for him.
You claw at his back and wrap your legs around his waist as he pounds into you, the bed creaking beneath every motion. It’s not long before you come again with a sob, nails digging into his shoulders as you clench around him. He kisses the tears from your cheeks and slows for a moment before pulling out.
The sudden loss makes your breath stutter in confusion. But just as quickly, he flips you over and pulls you onto your hands and knees.
“Don’t worry, pips,” he pants, pressing back into you with a broken groan. “I’m not done with you. Need to make you come again.”
You’re not sure if you’ll even be able to do what he wants when your whole pussy is tingling with oversensitivity. But he fucks you through it—through your cries, through the overstimulation, through the way your arms collapse beneath you and he has to wrap an arm around your stomach just to hold you upright.
You can feel him shaking behind you, can hear how close he is in the way his voice starts breaking, the way he whispers, “Gonna come inside you, fill you up—fuck—gonna mark you.” When your moans pitch higher, it only makes him even more crazed. “Yeah, you want that?” he murmurs, thrusts turning more erratic. “Then you gotta come for me again, pretty girl.”
Before you can say a word, his fingers glide down your front. They dip beneath your dress and hastily lock onto your clit, rolling and pinching the throbbing bud with the intent to make you flutter around him.
The two of you come together this time, your moans entangling and turning into the most obscene symphony.
Caleb twitches inside you before spilling one of the biggest loads you’ve ever taken from him. It leaks from your swollen pussy when he pulls out, but he wastes no time smearing it around and pushing some of it back inside with two thick fingers.
You can already tell your dress is going to be ruined—the top all damp with sweat and the hem messy with your combined releases.
It’d make sense for Caleb to stop now. After such an intense orgasm, you’re expecting him to be too tired and not hard enough to keep going.
But when he eases his fingers out of your sore pussy and rolls you onto your back, his eyes are still full of something wild.
And when you glance down at his cock, it’s already half-hard again.
He slides back into you slowly, cradling your jaw with one hand and your thigh with the other. He moves like he wants to memorize every part of your body.
Every time you whimper, he moans. Every time you cry out, he praises you.
“You’re so beautiful like this,” he whispers. “So good for me, letting me have you again and again.”
You lose track of time. Hours blur into one long, aching haze of pleasure. He takes you every way he can—on your back, on your side with your leg hitched around his waist, then riding him until he’s trembling beneath you and gasping your name like a prayer.
And every time you come, he tells you how good you are. How lucky he is to have you. How you’re the only present he ever wants on his birthday.
You’ve lost count of how many orgasms you’ve had when you’re wrung out and raw, eyes glassy, thighs trembling and sticky.
But Caleb is still insatiable. Still making up for all the years he never got to have you like this. Your legs are spread by his strong hands, and he licks into you again—achingly slow this time. You’re not sure if it’s because he’s finally getting tired or if he just wants to take his time worshipping you.
“Hm, you taste even better after I’ve come inside you,” he whispers.
You moan, twitching beneath him, and he just smiles against your folds.
It takes longer now that you’ve had so many orgasms already, but he diligently pulls one more out of you. And after you come with such a sweet moan, you both collapse in a tangled heap, breathless and sore.
Caleb yanks you to his chest, his fingers playing with your hair while you catch your breath. His eyes are still half-lidded with desire as he mumbles, “Best birthday I’ve ever had.”
You snort. “You didn’t even get to blow out your candles.”
He looks at you with a lazy, wrecked smile. “I blew your back out instead.”
You swat his chest, but he catches your hand and kisses your fingers, then the inside of your wrist with a wet smack.
“I’m still not done,” he says, like it’s a threat. But you must be just as crazy as he is, because you faintly feel the pulse of arousal between your thighs yet again.
“Caleb, isn’t it getting too late–”
“It’s still my birthday for another hour,” he purrs, dragging his mouth along your sweaty neck. “Doesn’t that mean I get whatever I want?”
Your breath hitches and your body gets all worked up again as he slides his leaking cock up and down your slit.
“And what I want,” he whispers, “well…you already know.”
(reader is sick but still pushes herself to work, sylus finds you in grave danger as you try to fight while you have a high fever )
⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆
Your arm feels heavy as you lift it to shut the alarm off, your head is already pounding despite just waking up. You stand and feel the familiar feeling of body aches set into your legs, a small sign of you coming down with a fever.
You're stubborn though, that wasn't enough to make you stay home from work.
It takes a while longer to get ready for work, but you can’t miss. There’s so much to get done, meetings you can’t miss, paperwork you need to get done by today.
Leaving your apartment the heavy feeling sets itself behind your eyes and entire body. It's hot out but you have a cold sweat, there's much, too much to call in and stay home. You just have to hope it gets better.
During the first few hours of your shift you feel your eyes burn more, the documents from past wanderer attacks need to get done. You haven't been called out to any wanderer sightings today at the least, you have that to be thankful for.
Beside you, your phone starts to vibrate. You pick it up and see Sylus is calling so you stand and walk from your desk to the empty halls.
"Hello?" You answer
"Why hello sweetie, a small crow told me you weren't feeling well today and well from the looks of it, you look pretty sick." Sylus greets you, you can hear his stupid sly smile playing on his lips through the phone.
"Sick...where's that dumb crow-" you grumble, eyebrows knitting together as you look out the window of your work building.
Sylus chuckles a low vibration ringing though your cell. He can hear your pout, which makes him chukle more.
"He didn't snitch. He just happened to be near you when I just checked on him and saw you leaning over the wall outside of your work. Couldn't call off Ms Hunter? Is your work really more important than your health?" He questions, the sound of disappointment dripping from his tone.
"No need to stay home if I can still walk, this is nothing I'm not sick just tired." You hold your ground, hoping he buys it.
"You don't always need to overwork yourself you know. You don't sleep enough as is, count on others to be there for you sweetie you're not alone." Sylus sighs, his serious tone making your face warm. He cares, him calling to check on you is enough of a tell tale but it makes you feel so damn warm and embarrassed.
"I'm fine really, a headache is nothing I can't handle. I'm not so fragile, you know, I'm a hunter for a reason." You hum and Sylus knows. He knows you're capable but when he saw how pale and exhausted you looked earlier he couldn't help but worry.
"I know you are capable, I don't doubt you one bit kitten." He softly speaks, he can't help but keep an eye on you.
You open your mouth to say something else but an alarm on your watch goes off before you can.
"Shit." You silently curse, you thought nothing was going to be too eventful today.
"I have to go Sylus, I'll call you when I get home." You sigh hearing him sigh as well.
"Alright, be safe. I'll be awaiting your call." He agrees, though when you hang up he heads out of his office, checking your location on his phone before grabbing his motorcycle helmet.
He knows you can hold yourself against wanderers. But he doesn't trust your judgement on your health, he needs to be sure.
You're sent to a secluded area just almost out the cusp of the city. You split up with the group your sent with and walk to the alley to find any fluctuations
You feel your eyes strain as you load your gun, tucking it into the hilt on your leg you move.
A shiver runs down your spine, a cold breeze hits you, making you feel the light sweat in your hairline. A cold sweat hits you hard as you make your way around, checking your watch for the nearby wanderer.
A loud beep echoes down the hall, you turn hearing a loud growl beside you. Ducking before you fully turn you feel something hard hit your torso.
The air leaves your lungs when you slam into the wall next to you. If your body wasn’t in pain already it definitely was now.
You blink, trying to regain your breath as you sit up heaving. Your eyes are hazy from getting up too fast.
It screeches next to you and you stand, holding the hilt of your gun firm as you cautiously step around it.
The wanderer lets out a low growl, claws scratching the floor when you aim your gun its way. The wanderer stops and leers, getting ready to lunge but before it can you steady your hand, shooting two bullets watching the wanderer fall but another immediately appearing behind the fallen one.
You blink and before you can react it jumps, taking you down with it. Your gun falls a few feet away as the wanderer screeches over you.
The ringing in your ears from the impact of your head hitting the floor is loud, you feel worse than earlier. You should’ve listened to your body, to Sylus and taken today off. Why have things been going downhill since you woke up?
Struggling in its hold, your arm aches as you reach, fingers just brushing against the hilt when you use all your strength and pull underneath the claw of the monster. You feel your shoulder rip but don’t have time to think. Reaching as far as you can muster you grab hold of your gun and shoot, not stopping until it starts to disintegrate on top of you.
You lay there heaving as you try to regain strength to stand. Eyes blurring and head pounding to the point where you have to hunch over to stop the worsening pain.
Another loud alarm echos from your watch, from down the hall a wanderer appears, eyes locking in on you. Pulling your gun up you steady your shaky hands and aim, fingers on the trigger as it rounds its shoulders, running down the hall making a b-line for you.
The trigger pulls back but nothing comes out, the clip is empty and the wanderer is more than halfway down the hall. You mentally curse as you reach down your holster on your leg for extra bullets grabbing a handful before looking up you see it jump from where it is, about five feet away lunging your direction sharp teeth snarling and you freeze.
You stop moving, the bullets in your hands falling to the floor as you just look at the monster in front of you. This is it, a fatal move that costs you your life. Just because you couldn’t listen to others and you thought you could sweat a fever out you’re going to learn your lesson.
Your eyes shut and your hands fall loose to your sides.
“There’s nothing I can do.” You think, not even trying to move out of the way. Body too exhausted to do so. You let out a shaky breath and close your eyes, preparing for the worst.
It’s silent, like the calm before the storm. Then the sound of five rounds being fired rings behind you making you flinch.
“What do we have here? Kitten, you seem a bit distracted.” He clicks his tongue, putting his gun down making his way to you. His brows furrowed as he stared at the beast disintegrating in front of you.
“Now, I thought hunters were always supposed to be prepared. Seems you weren’t in the best shape to be here now?” He questions, seeing you turn.
You let out a shaky breath you weren’t even aware you were holding, you hear your heartbeat ringing in your ears and everything hits you.
Sylus waits, you don't respond. Not even a snarky comeback you’d usually bite back with. Nothing.
You bend and collect the bullets you dropped, trembling hands placing them in your pockets before you stand on shaky legs. The cold sweat makes your teeth clatter and the pain from your torso and shoulder shoots through you.
You can’t control it, the shaking, your breathing, everything is spiraling and you can’t stop it.
Taking a step you stumble, Sylus is next to you in an instant. His warm hand firmly holding you by your arm and the comfort that you feel when near him hits you. You feel safe.
Lifting your head to greet him but no words come out, you feel your legs buckle and everything goes silent.
Sylus lifts you before you even slump. Your body temperature is at a level that’s hot to the touch. He frantically moves your hair, palm flattening out on your forehead feeling the sheer heat radiating from you. He needs to cool you down instantly.
He rushes out to his car with you In his arms, gently laying you in the back before speeding home.
His mind is a wreck. When he saw you not even trying to save yourself he almost lost it. He couldn’t bear to lose you again. Not after it took him so long to find you again, for you to remember him finally.
You feel like you're in a haze, turning and groaning at the sheer chills you feel run through your body.
Sylus glances back through the rear view mirror and speeds, luckily you were on the cusp of the N109 zone not too far from his base.
Always so careless, refusing to let yourself rest even if it means your health is declining. Your stubbornness is scary, it rivals his own and he can't stand it, not if you're doing it to yourself.
His foot slams the breaks, he throws his door open and pulls the back doors open to get you instantly.
Your eyes crack open, your throat feeling incredibly dry. "It's so cold." you feel your voice crack, Sylus pulls you into his arms steadying you before lifting you up instantly.
His legs move fast, he can feel you shiver but your body temperature is dangerously high. He needs to bring it down now.
The main doors fly open and his legs waste no time making their way to the restroom. He gently lays you on the floor next to the bath as he sets the temperature to cold.
"Bring me a few bags of ice at the lower restroom by the entrance now." You hear Sylus speak into his phone, making your eyes open again.
"I'm cold, no ice please." You blink, the fever is at its worst. It's much more draining than you thought it would be.
"I know sweetie I'm going to help you." He whispers, calming tone hushing you as he moves your bangs from your face.
The twins come in seconds, heads whipping between Sylus and you as they hand him bags of ice.
"Boss are they alr-"
"Out." He speaks, opening the bags of ice. The twins don't hesitate, they leave the second the word leaves his mouth.
The bath is filled up a bit more than halfway. He pulls you near him, feeling you push him back a bit.
"I don't." You struggle, seeing the bath filled up and ice in there made your teeth clatter. "I'm so cold please don't." You pull your wrist back but it doesn't budge in Sylus' firm grasp
"Sweetie, I need you to listen to my voice." He steadys you, hands gently holding your face in his warm palms. "You need to cool off, I'm here with you ok? I won't let nothing else happen." He assures, nodding his head when your hazy eyes meet his.
You feel delirious, your eyes sting when he stands you up holinging you when he steps into the cold tub, sitting down and bringing you with him.
Tears sting your eyes, your body feels like it's going to explode when he submerges your legs and waist underneath the freezing water.
"Sylus I'm freezing I can't." You grip his arm with whatever strength you have left trying to move from him but he holds you in place, putting it further into the tub to cool you down.
"I know, but I can't let you go until you cool down sweetie." He whispers, his arms caging you in, one holding your shoulders down his other holding your waist. Your back flat against his chest as he pushes you back into him by your torso.
“Please Sylus, please let me go, I can't please don't do this.” you plead your throat raw as you kick your legs trying your absolute hardest to get away. It hurts so much.
Sylus feels pain so sharp in his chest at your pleading tone. But he can't let you go yet, not until he's sure you're cooled off, until he feels your body temperature go back to normal.
His shaky hands steady when your thrashing stops.
"Sylus I don't feel- I'm so cold." You heave, head falling back into his chest as exhaustion takes over from the body aches to your high fever and getting attacked plus crying was taking a huge toll on you.
Hot tears run down your face as you take in deep breaths, Sylus' big warm hands rubbing your arms soothing you, shushing you as he rocks you back and forth. "I'm here, I have you ok sweetie. You're not alone." He assures pulling you impossibly closer.
He feels your breathing even and soon your head slumps forward. His firm hand grabs your face but you don't respond, for a second he internally panics but he feels your pulse steady and rhythmic to his own. You've finally cooled down after about ten minutes of being here, now he needs to get you changed and some medicine, you're not going out of his sight until he sees you get better himself.
Your eyes crack open, the dim room surrounding you making your eyes widen in seconds.
Your body shoots up frantically, head spinning as your hands rub your temples. You realize you're in Sylus' hideout or to be more exact, Sylus' room.
Looking around for the man in question you realize you're alone, so you stand. Pain shoots through your torso and shoulder making you hiss as you take a few steps. The last thing you remember was feeling cold, so damn cold.
You take a few steps when the door opens gently catching you making your way across the room.
Before you can even turn to see who it is, a pair of arms firmly grabs your waist and a second later you're being thrown over a broad shoulder.
"Ah HEY-" a surprised yelp escapes your lips at the sudden movement. A strong arm holds you up effetlessly.
Looking down at the man who just tossed you like a sack of potatoes you feel no discomfort, he's holding you so gently despite your body being in so much pain.
"I take my eyes off you for one second kitten, and you're already trying to sneak away." He jokingly clicks his tongue as his head shakes.
He stops in front of the bed, letting you down as if you're made of glass. Setting a tray of food down on the bedside table.
"What happened? How long have I been out?" You ask, looking up at him seeing his eyebrow quirk up.
"Two days. All because certain stray cat decided to bare her fangs in the face of danger when she wasn't feeling so well. Tell me Ms Hunter, is that a smart thing to do now?" He questions, grabbing the chair next to the bed, moving it to sit right in front of you.
Looking at him you can't even defend yourself, you know how reckless that was yet you still pushed yourself.
"Sorry you had to see that." You speak up, voice still a bit horse biting the inside of your cheek as his eyes stare into the depths of your soul.
Sulys may look calm on the outside but inside he's a mess. He was so worried, it's been two days of you fighting such a high fever and you're finally going back to normal, he's so relieved to see your eyes he loves so much open, looking at him with such tenderness despite you being sick for so long.
His eyes soften when you look into his, he moves in closer, arms caging you in both sides of your legs.
"Never do that again, please come to me and lean on me if you're wounded or don't feel good. You don't have to shoulder the burden all by yourself anymore. You have me." Sylus' voice is so soft, his hand coming up to your forehead to feel the temperature.
"I feel fine now-"
"You still feel warm sweetie, what's the matter?" He questions, leaning in closer, feeling his breath fan over your face, you feel yourself shrink under his intense gaze.
"I can't help it, it's warm right now." You hold his gaze, the corners of his lips lifting up seeing the light pink dust across your face.
"Get comfortable sweetie, you're not leaving my side for a while. You need to eat." He whispers, standing up to give you space before placing a kiss on your forehead.
Before he can take another step you reach for his arm, pulling him back a bit making him stop fully turning back to you, eyes looking into yours as you try to find the right words.
“You don't have to leave, please I don't want to be alone.” You confess, making him sit back down grabbing the soup he made for you, blowing on the spoonful of soup. You ask him to stay and he will, he needs no other excuse.
Sylus blows the steaming spoon a few more times before slowly lifting it to your lips. “Eat, you need food.” He speaks softly. Eyes trained on your movement. You oblige, opening your mouth accepting the spoonful of warm delicious soup.
“Thank you, for shouldering the burden of caring for me. You can lean on me too no matter what, ok? I'm always here for you too no matter what Sy.” You speak up, as he puts the spoon back in for another spoonful. You sit up straighter, your resolve in your eyes shows him you mean every word you say and he feels his heart beat faster.
In one swift movement he’s in front of you leaning down again, hand holding your face as he leans in. “Those words are tempting, keep your promise and I’ll be here forever sweetie.” He whispers, eyes holding such intensity as he speaks. His eyes stare at your lips making you swallow nervously. He's so close you can smell his intoxicating scent. You almost close the distance but he softly kisses your cheek before pulling back.
“You need to get more rest, you’re not fully recovered.” He holds back, he has to. As much as he'd love to hold you and have his way with you, he knows your health and you recovering fully comes first. “Now open up,” he turns back to the soup, grabbing another spoonful before looking back at you. “You're not going anywhere until you finish your soup and get more rest I advise you to get comfortable sweetie.”
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authors note: HALLOOO MY LOVLIESSSS HOW IVE MISSED YOU SO!!!!(≧▽≦) Im back and with a LOVE AND DEEPSPACE FIC OH MY GOSH!!(^o^) I've been wanting to write for the LADS boys for sosososo long and I finally did it!! I'm a sylus girly though and through though zayne is close second so I wrote for my number one! I hope you all enjoy the fic and I hope you're all taking care, mwahhhh^~^<333 (DISCLAIMER!!!! this is not revised or edited, sorry for any errors!!!)
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