#Thank you again for letting me comm you!! | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

jamminvroomvroom · 1 month

Note

4k celebration

congrats on 4k love - your writing is absolutely worth all of the hype and even more!!! i adore your work and so look forward to even more people discovering it.

i was hoping to request a lewis fic?? i’m such a slut for a good enemies to lovers situation, so maybe along the lines of reader is a fair bit younger than lewis, but there’s been all of this tension btwn them and it all boils over one night (smuttyyyyy) 🥴

we made up.

LH x fem!rival reader - 4k celebration

in which you can never just bite your tongue

eeeeek i love this request! thank u sm anon for ur sweet words, ur so lovely i hope i’ve done this justice for you! writing for lewis terrified me so this might not be my best work but we move! more lewis requests to come, let me know what you think <3

songs to set the mood: stargirl interlude by the weekend & lana del rey

warnings: 18+!! minors go away!! smut, swearing, degradation, praise, dom!lewis, some switch!reader, implied age gap, slightly inexperienced reader, enemies to lovers, blink n you’ll miss it size kink

2.6k words

you hide admiration with a scowl, curling into yourself, as far away as you can get from him. the couch seems to get smaller and smaller with every overly intelligent, carefully thought out word he says. each sentence seems to be coated in a thick layer of i don’t give a fuck. you don’t know how he’s so good a toeing the line.

after six years in f1, you still couldn’t work out why you didn’t like lewis hamilton.

maybe it was his cool confidence, the way he never lacked composure, while you were called an unhinged, delusional woman by every incel on twitter for so much as breathing. maybe it was his sky high stack of trophies, championships, podiums, wins. you weren’t even halfway close to touching his records. maybe it was the way he was diabolically, inhumanly gorgeous, a truly breathtaking creature. you paled in every single way compared to lewis, so how could you even begin to like him?

it was silly, really, pathetic even, feeling such childish disdain just because he was better than you. he was older, more refined, iconic in every single way that you weren’t. perhaps you’d get there one day, but you simply weren’t there yet.

you’re sat beside him in the press conference, sharing the couch with him, alex, lando, charles and max. it wasn’t the worst combination in the world, but anytime you had to sit in front of a gaggle of hawk-eyed journos and a million cameras with lewis, something unfortunate usually happened. never by design, but you just weren’t very good at saving face in front of the mercedes driver.

“do you think the podium is a possibility this weekend?” someone from autosport whose name you can’t remember asks.

“i’m hoping so, just need to keep the mercs behind us again, but i don’t think that will be that hard.” you respond, without even a sliver of a filter. the material of the sofa shifts as lewis tenses up beside you, inhaling sharply at your blatant disrespect. somewhere beside you, lando sniggers, and max is rolling his eyes.

it was no secret that you didn’t have the softest spot in the world for sir lewis.

“that’s assuming your car makes it to the end of the race.” lewis clears his throat, speaking with confident conviction. you turn you head to glare at him, painfully unable to take what you give. alex slaps his hand over his mouth.

“at least my car isn’t so bad that i’d rather go and learn the alphabet down at ferrari.” you scoff. you avoid the eyes of your comms officer, because if looks could kill, you’d be six feet under already.

“i think we’ll leave it there.” tom clarkson suggests, and you stand from the panel and storm away on trembling legs with a terrible ache throbbing between them.

there’s something about the pettiness, the reasonless back and fourth you two always seem to partake in that leaves you in need of a cold shower.

turns out, you have to apologise.

you spend the better part of an hour being bollocked by your press team, who, for some reason, don’t find it particularly amusing that you’d somehow managed to insult the lewis hamilton, ferrari, and mercedes in the span of two sentences.

so, there you were, begrudgingly trailing towards lewis’s hotel room. it’s on the top floor, because of course it is, it’s him. he oozes expensive exclusively, naturally above the rest. you twist your rings nervously, increasingly terrified of being in a confined space alone with the gorgeous brit. your knuckles rap gently against the wood of his door, intentionally weakly. you pray he won’t hear you and that you can just disappear back into the elevator and into your room, to pathetically let you hands wander between your clenched thighs.

but god laughs, and the door swings open. lewis seems startled by your presence, just for a moment though, leaning cooly against the doorframe. his lips pull into a faint smile. two things alarm you. first of all, he’s shirtless, bare from the waist up, a plethora of delicious tattoos on display for you to feast your eyes on. secondly, and somehow even worse, he’s panting, clearly just back from a work out in the gym. he glistens with sweat, and your mind goes blank, apologetic words die on your tongue.

“something to say, angel, or are you just here to stare?” lewis teases, the words rolling off his tongue smoothly. you pray for the ground to gape open, swallow you hole, suck you into hot lava.

“well, i was gonna apologise but i don’t think you deserve it.” you sneer, crossing your arms over your chest accusingly.

“didn’t think you knew how to apologise.” lewis grins sarcastically, mocking you.

“has anyone told you how arrogant you are?” you bite back, eyes narrowing.

“why don’t you come in here and i’ll show you just how arrogant i can be?” his voice has dropped a few octaves, seductive and low.

the proposition, the suggestion behind his words makes you fold immediately. you’d wondered for far too long about what he was like behind closed doors and under thick bedsheets, and if you had the chance at finding out, you’d be imbecilic not to take it.

you shove his muscled chest, pushing him back into his room. his hands find your waist, pulling harshly at the material of your loose t-shirt. he’s watching you intently, mesmerised by the angry flush on your cheeks tinging you pink. your eyes convey hunger, matching his, and you’re forcing him down to sit at the foot of his bed.

“why are you such an asshole?” you hiss, slotting your knees on either side of his so that you’re straddling him.

“probably the same reason you’re such a little bitch.” lewis growls, tugging you forward harshly on his lap. you feel his work out shorts ride up on his thighs, the material sensitive on your skin.

your pupils blow wide at his words, and you’re kissing him hard, teeth and tongues clashing messily. his lips are so soft, pillowy as they brush aggressively with your own and you lick wetly into his awaiting mouth. he’s addictive, minty, and you fall against his bare chest as he leans back into the mattress.

“i think you need to be taught some manners.” lewis grunts, flipping your bodies over like you’re nothing, and slotting against your body like a missing piece.

“i think the same could be said about you.” you breathe, sliding your hand under the waistband of his shorts. he chuckles quietly, the rumble reverberating through your own chest, cracking you open.

“try your best.” he whispers. your eyes roll back.

truth is, you’re not the most experienced person in the world. yes, you’re in your mid twenties, but a long term relationship with the worlds biggest loser and dedicating your life to a career in a boys club meant that you didn’t have the time to develop broadest set of skills. you didn’t have the luxury of letting loose in a nightclub with a stranger because if that information got into the wrong hands, you’d be slut-shamed off the face of the earth. so now, you found yourself a little bit lost under a literal sex god.

as if he can hear your thoughts, lewis pulls back.

“what’s the matter? do you want me to stop?” he’s softer than he ever has been with you, melting away in your hands, but you draw him back in, tightening your grip on the band of his shorts.

“no, no, i just…” the words die on your tongue. something in your eyes gives him all the information that he needs.

“do what feels right, good.” his nose brushes your jaw, kissing over it and you settle back into the moment.

“teach me a lesson.” you whisper, empowered in his hands, and he springs back into action, his demeanour slipping right back into what it had been.

“is that why you’re so bad in interviews? just want me to fuck some respect into you?” his lips tug amusedly when you nod rapidly up at him.

an experimental roll of his hips makes you keen, hand slipping into his braids and pulling hard. his eyes fall shut, lips parting to let out a soft groan, his eyebrows pinching from the rough pleasure. your fingers graze over the skin of his toned belly, finding sensitive skin that makes him shiver.

“you distracted, lew?” you taunt, with the only intention of riling him up.

his eyes snap open, hard and lacking any sort of warmth, and he tears your hands from where they rest on his firm body, swiftly pinning them above your head with one hand. he plants himself on one knee, balancing himself so that he can fiddle with the button of your shorts. he makes quick work of removing them, forcing the zipper down and skilfully manoeuvring them with just the one hand.

once they’re gone, along with the lace of your underwear, he forces your thighs apart, and slides his fingers along the seam of your cunt, slicking them up. you’re soaked and he momentarily falters, but he doesn’t let himself get too visibly affected.

“fuck, you’re so wet. been thinking about me, angel?” he teases mercilessly, as he rocks the first thick digit into you, twisting and curling until he finds the spot that makes you buck your hips.

“nothing to say now, hm?” lewis tuts, wetting his lips. the feeling of you squeezing so tight around just one of his fingers makes him choke out a moan. you can feel his hot breath fanning over your face, your eyes squeezing shut at the feeling of him filling you up.

“more.” you breathe, stuttering over just one word. he revels in how he’s managed to reduce you to this so quickly.

“you sure you can take it, angel? so fucking tight.”

“make me.” you plead, parting your strained thighs even wider for him.

he lets go of your hands, snaking down your body to get himself closer to where you’re dripping already.

“keep them there.” lewis orders, and you grip tightly onto the pillows to exercise restraint.

lewis presses his forearm over the plush of your belly, holding you down as he adds a second finger, watching in awe as it slips so effortlessly into your pussy. you’re mewling, fighting to buck your hips but the firm press of his muscled arm keeps you in place.

“so pretty for me, angel, soaking my fingers.” he notes, entranced at how responsive you are for him.

“want you inside of me, lew.” you whine, knuckles paper white where you’re fighting off the urge to reach down and touch him.

“wait.” he snarls, ramming his fingers even harder, grinding against the soft spot buried deep. “you’re gonna cum like this first.”

with that, he removes the barricade of his arm, bringing his spare hand to your clit, the pad of his thumb drawing calloused circles into the bud. you lose it, grinding down on his fingers like a woman possessed.

“that’s it, sweetie, fuck yourself for me.” lewis encourages, voice gravelly and low.

sparks shoot down your spine, nothing but white behind your eyelids as he lights you on fire. you can’t warn him, the words lost to the tense air of the room as you barrel towards your first release. he eases you through it, not letting up even a little bit, but it pays off when you can’t help but writhe against the cream of the bedspread.

“god.” you croak, flopping limp as he pulls out, crawling over you.

“learned your lesson?”

“not quite.” you flash an exhausted grin, abandoning your grasp on the pillows to slide them down his thick frame.

you trace the lion adorning his shoulder, the compass, each piece driving you further into utter delirium. your hands graze his waist, snaking around his abdomen until you reach the cross, tracing it until you reach words that keep him going.

still i rise the cursive reads, and he shivers as you rake your nails over it.

“fuck me.” you purr. your hands slide under his shorts once more, gripping at the curve of his ass. you push the material down over his thighs, and he happily kicks them away, his inked hands roughly spreading you even wider.

“desperate little thing, bet you go home after every race and fuck yourself silly wishing it was me, hm?” he adjusts himself between your legs, his thick cock nudging against you entrance, drenching himself in the mess he’d made.

you gasp out a moan as he slides deep, taking his sweet time. you can’t even comprehend his words, totally consumed by the brutally enticing stretch of him, your thighs shaking at the delectable intrusion. he hisses at the sensation of your tight warmth, his head falling to rest in the crook of your neck. lewis licks over the sensitive skin, trailing open mouthed kisses down to your collarbone. you feel the sharp graze of his teeth, gentle nips making you shudder on his cock.

“don’t leave a mark.” you choke, and lewis seems to get it, so he skims his teeth lower, sucking purple just over your heart.

you clamp down around him, allured by the tweak of pain, and it seems to spark something in him, his hips rolling into yours experimentally.

“you feel so fucking good.” lewis pants, his breath warm and wet on your neck.

“need you to move.” you plead, turning your head to capture his lips in an urgent kiss.

he pulls out, slamming back into you roughly, your tummy twisting with anticipation. lewis finds a rhythm that suits you both, hips hitting yours with every thrust, each one leaving you full and spent.

“gonna make sure you feel me for days.” he promises, yanking your legs over his hips. as he does, he hits deeper and you yelp, stars in your eyes. “when you sit in the car tomorrow, you’re gonna feel me and remember how to be a good fucking girl, not an attention seeking brat.”

you ramble his name, eyes flooding with tears of overstimulation, dumbfounded at how he seems to hit a new spot with every slide of his cock. he’s digging his fingers into the meat of your thighs, pulling your hips impossibly closer to his as he drives into you, as if he wants to become a part of you, moulded for an eternity. with the way your stomach knots, butterflies and adrenaline coursing through you, you’d comply; you’d let him do whatever he wanted to him anytime he wanted.

“‘m so close.” you whine, pulling on every part of him your hands can reach. a refreshed sense of determination builds in his eyes and he presses hard on your navel.

“so deep, can see it.” lewis slurs, eyes fixed on your belly.

those five words make you unravel, sending you hurtling over the edge. he can’t help but fuck you through it, hammering home while you spasm around him so tight that he struggles to move.

“fucking addicted to this pussy.” lewis groans, burying himself as deep as he can go.

you’re utterly enchanted as you watch him reach his release, gnawing at your bottom lip when his part in a moan, allowing gentle puffs of air to escape. his long eyelashes rest delicately over his cheeks as his eyes fall shut, your name spilling out of his mouth like a needy prayer.

you’re warm from the inside out, flushed and full when he settles, pressing his body weight into you completely.

two weeks later, you’re in japan, bored senseless in yet another press conference. lewis sits further down the couch, and you have to cross your legs every time he speaks. no one seems to notice, except him, of course.

when it’s your turn to speak, and you’re asked all about your little spat with sir lewis back in australia, you shrug, smirking.

“we made up.”

oof

taglist

@mcmuppet @japanesekel @vinvantae @ggaslyp1 @dr3lover @smiithys @rachstash @infinitebells @fizzpopsnap101 @gaily19 @icecoldtires @mysticalnightenthusiast @thatchickwiththecamera @oyesmendes @disneydaydreameralways @canyouseethesainz @ferrarifwendvale @fcbformulaeri @tony-stank3 @maih23 @soleilgrec @carolineworld @anthonykatebridgerton @allywthsr @iamasimpingh0e @ophcelia @lovelynikol16 @coffeehurricanes @jennx03 @blueflorals @lqvesoph @sidcrosbyspuck @better-dead-than-smeg @buendiabebeta @pjofics @kovalcin @wintergilmore3 @for-writing-shit @youdontknowmeshh @im-an-overthinker @jule239 @darleneslane @jazzy722 @weasleyswizarding-wheezes @therealone4r @pleasecallmeunhinged @theonlyadrienne @spideylovin @formulaal @carlandoxlestappen

if you wanna be added or removed lemme know! :D

1K notes · View notes

corantus · 5 months

Text

hi. help

e-begging to avoid eviction 2 !!!!!! !!!!!!

i got laid off 5 weeks ago, i applied for unemployment the same day i got laid off but for some reason they are taking forever to process my case. i just keep waiting for weeks and then getting sent more paperwork to fill out. yesterday they told me i'll have to wait another 2 weeks to hear back again. ive been applying for every job i can find and getting nothing so far

i have $1533 in outstanding rent, i just barely avoided being taken to court, i have a payment plan with my landlord but thats entirely dependent on what happens with my unemployment

i also have to make an 80 dollar payment on my student loans by monday or it'll be sent to collections. that sucks but not being homeless is my priority

(also my grandfather is dying and im dealing with my homophobic family if for some reason you want to know the specifics about that i have complained here)

i am really greatful to have had comms to keep me afloat, this has been a huge help with everyday expenses + keeping me and my dog fed. but yeah i cant do this shit anymore. if you can help or boost that is lifesaving!!! thank you so much

#not art #when it rains it pours !!!!!!!!!!#i know i keep doing this and i hate doing this!!! i am really sorry!!!!! thank you for all the support so far !!!!!!!#going into mental health treatment has completely destroyed my finances lol !!!!! (<-he is not laughing out loud)

2K notes · View notes

ghostbsuter · 5 months

Text

"You know I'm here for school?" He casually mentions, rubbing his hands after Red Robin cut the rope.

"Yeah?"

"I did not expect the amount of maiming I'd get."

The teen vigilante is silent, staring at him.

"Have you thought of switching campus?"

Danny scoffs. "I won't let some assholes stop me from gaining knowledge, I know the Ancients are watching me as we speak, Nocturn especially hoping I'll fail." As the sentence went on, his face adapted a darker look, grin edging on insanity.

Red Robin leans back.

"Anyway, thanks for the save!"

Without waiting, he leaves. RR can't even do anything, done himself with the situation.

"Red Robin, did you identify the hostage?" Batman's gruff voice rings through the comm.

It has the teen pinching his nose. "It was danny again."

Silence.

(Gotham is just funny like that. If only Danny didn't get kidnapped the very next day when he and his new bestie, Tim dra-something, were going to a nice café.

Maybe Tim will forgive him if he gives him some homage fudge?)

#dcxdp #dpxdc #dp x dc crossover #fic prompt #writing prompt #dc x dp prompt #danny the villain magnet #he just exists and thats an issue with alot of people #tim is just so tired and done #hes desperately trying to keep danny safe #oblivious danny #he has no idea #danny “if u call me daniel ur trying to kill me” Phantom #tim “for the love of god STAY” dra-something /j

2K notes · View notes

catharsisfire · 1 year

Text

caught in the spider’s web (m.) 18+

Simon “Ghost Riley x Reader

“I’ll let you have sex with me.” It’s stated so plainly and so forwardly that it sounds less like a negotiation offer and more like a proclamation.

“Fucking hell.” Ghost shoots back, his tone barely containing the hint of bewilderment in his voice.

Warnings: smut, vaginal fingering, inappropriate relations with your superior, orgasm denial, degradation, teasing/taunting, Ghost being kinda mean, also slight!Soap x Reader (just some flirting tho)

Word Count: 5004

A/N: i’m down absolutely bad for this man, so down bad i cant stand up, also thinking of making a pt. 2 and maybe a Soap version tbh so lemme know if you’re interested in that!

Inspo taken from this tiktok audio by dxcrxpit

Gif is not mine

She’s got to blame someone for this; Graves will take the fall for now, until she finds the Shadow that shot her in the thigh and she’ll personally take the fall for being stupid and diving off the road onto a muddy cliff, tumbling the entire way down. Ungracefully, one may add. It’s unfortunate, truly, the turn of events that have now left her alone and in the pouring rain, leaking blood onto the pavement, but life is nothing if not one shitty plot twist after another.

The comms had been radio silent since she fell, with no one calling or checking in, no sign of Ghost or Soap anywhere, so she finds an empty alley, mind set on damage control. It’s nothing to reach behind her and grab the back of her balaclava and pull it over her head, but it’s the feeling of the wet fabric sliding and sticking to her face as she pulls it off that makes her grimace. “Gross,” she mutters lowly with her hands wrapped tightly around the fabric, wringing out her sweat and the rain. Her back braces on the stone wall behind her and she slides down slowly until she’s sitting on the cobblestone road. [Y/n] lets out a shaky exhale as she reaches her hands down and begins to undo her belt, sliding it off in a quick jerking motion and then proceeds to fold her balaclava into a makeshift bandage before laying it over the wound on the outside of her left thigh. The belt is then used to tighten the balaclava down, applying pressure to keep bleeding to a minimum while she finds her way out of this shit fest. It takes her a second of sitting and fidgeting with the tightness of the belt before she decides to slink her way back up the wall again to stand.

“Alright,” She breathes heavily, talking to no one but herself, “we can do this the easy way or the hard way.” She laughs lightly under her breath and her hand makes its way to where her sidearm had been just moments before her tumble, only to find it gone. “Fuck me,” she whines, head falling back onto the stone wall behind her dejectedly, “hard way it is then.”

[Y/n] makes quick work of pushing off the wall and beginning to limp slightly farther down the alleyway, clicking through the channels on her comms as she goes, until Ghost’s voice pierces through her ears causing her to stop.

“Soap- This is Ghost. How copy?” There’s a moment of silence that registers for a second too long and she feels her blood run cold when there’s no response. “Johnny…?” No response. “Johnny… How copy?”

“Solid.” Soap’s response comes quickly and she lets out a relieved exhale. [Y/n] is quick to glance around, trying to find the easiest way down and out and she thinks for a second too long before throwing caution to the wind and her legs move into a slight skip before picking up into a run into a shop across the road.

“You injured?”

“What’s the difference?”

“Life or death. Keep your blood in, you’ll need every drop.”

“Thanks for the tip.”

“Spider. How copy?” She hears him, vividly so, but her mind is too sidetracked to reply. To focused on finding a way out whilst sneaking up to the Shadow in front of her. She quickly grabs onto the knife that's strapped and sheathed to her lower back and imbeds it into the juncture of the Shadow’s neck, twisting and pulling harshly to retrieve it from his skin as she moves to lay the body to the ground silently.

“Kid,” His voice more demanding now, “how copy?”

“Alive.” She pants evenly through the receiver.

“Thought we lost you there, kid.”

“Never. I’m gonna live forever L.T, remember?” She laughs breathily.

Sometimes she catches Price staring at them with some far off solemn look in his eyes. A certain softness laced with ‘what if’ that you could only catch if you were genuinely looking for it and it startles her every time, making her feel a bit guilty that he cares so much for them. Guilty to know that if one of them died he’d be heartbroken.

“Stop staring at us like that.” She lowly speaks to him, her words taking on a teasing edge as she stares at the Captain.

“Like what?”

“Like we’re terminal cancer patients.”

“I do no-“

“I’m gonna live forever, Captain.” She interrupts so matter-of-factly before lifting her left hand and jamming her thumb in the direction of Ghost to her left, “And you can’t kill a Ghost.” Her thumb falls only for her index finger to point over at Soap who’s sitting on her right side, “And Soap,” she begins, “well Soap can’t die because we fuckin’ told him not to.”

“Copy that, Sergeant.” Price responds with a tilt at the edge of his mouth. Almost a smile, she notes.

Ghost peers down at her from where he’s seated next to her and she looks up at him with a smile present in her eyes and nods once in his direction in confirmation. Her black balaclava does nothing to hide her emotions, not when they’re always written right there in her eyes, and he vaguely wonders if she wears it because her face is more of an open book than her eyes appear to be. Yet it’s a thought he buries deep when she winks up at him, her eyes still dancing with humor and he’s turning away, not wanting to be drawn in by her gaze.

“Where are you?”

“There's a church. I’m heading to it. Let’s RV there.” Ghost declares. “You’ll need to improvise to survive.”

“Oh, joy.” comes Spider’s quick retort. She makes hasty work of digging through the dead Shadow’s pockets, taking his knives and his gun before taking a quick once-over glance over him. An idea toys in her mind for a second and she reaches forwards, unclipping the helmet on his head equipped with night vision and immediately puts it on her own and clipping it down, adjusting the strap to fit. The rifle she picked up is then slung over her chest and it rests heavily on her back on top of her armor and she begins her journey away, crouching low and moving to the next building.

“Welcome to guerilla warfare.”

Ghost and Soap continue talking, but [Y/n] had taken to tuning them out, too concentrated on taking down the Shadow’s in her path. One after another they each fell easily from the blades she kept stealing off of their associates corpses and her hands made quick work of ripping the ammo clips from their pockets and depositing them in her own on her vest. It was messy work and the realization that it was no longer sweat and rain wetting her face, but blood as well, did not go unnoticed by her. Her arm was quick to reach up every so often in an attempt to clear her face but it felt only as if it just smeared everything on her face, making a bigger mess.

“Gimme a sit-rep.” Ghost’s request digs her from her concentration, her decision making stopping momentarily and she goes to reply first but Soap beats her to it.

“Outside… Gated alley.”

“Kid, sit-rep?”

“Outside… Alleyway with a few dead Shadow’s.”

“Your handiwork?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Atta girl.” Ghost's quick reply is all she hears and [Y/n] feels her face heat from the praise.

“What can I say? I live to please.” And then she's back to radio silence, she wants nothing more than to get the upper hand here, but she still feels like she’s failing at it. Moving on the ground amongst the Shadow’s hoping to not stumble across one didn't feel right to her, didn’t feel smart. She was a sniper. She yearns for the high ground and distance and she’s been robbed of the one thing she feels like gives her the tactical advantage, so her brain is working overtime to fix it. It’s a mumbled ‘fuck-it’, that has her chancing it and she decides to take to the rooftops. It’s not without difficulty, climbing up to get to the roofs, but the real bitch comes when she has to make the jump from building to building. Each impact making her wince and gnaw at her lip to stop her from groaning at the pain in her leg. But she feels better from here, being able to survey the land and pick the Shadows off from above, thanks to a silencer she klepted off one of them.

“You’re gonna owe me for this.” Came Soap’s voice from the comms but Spider takes note that it echoes, if only slightly and her mind begins turning. No, not an echo. He’s nearby, close enough for her to hear with her ears and the comms piece.

“Why?”

“We’re fixing each other’s problems.”

“What’s my problem?”

“The mask… Take it off…”

“Show my face?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Negative.”

“Are you ugly?”

“Quite the opposite.” Smug bastard. He’s smirking, she just knows it.

“What about you, Spider?” Soap questions, shifting the conversation to include her.

“What makes you think you deserve to see me, Johnny?” She teases back in response, prompting Soap to huff back a simple, “Cold.” into the comms.

“Tell you what,” she propositions, “come find me and I’ll show you anything you want.”

“Both of you, get to the church. Now.”

“Yes, sir.” They both echoed.

It’s not hard for her eyes to catch Soap’s movement, pinning him in her gaze as he maneuvers the alley to her left. Her eyes leave his form as they glance forward to the Shadows ahead of him and she makes the decision to take them out for him. Opting that this was the way to gain a favor for him, having not forgotten how he constantly volunteers her for first watch whenever he can. His reaction is immediate, dropping behind cover and glancing back when he hears the heavy thud of the Shadows bodies hit the ground and he’s looking around to try and find where the shots had come from.

“Who the hell was that?” Soap’s distressed voice rings through the comms.

“It was your guardian angel.”

“Spider? Are you on the roof?”

“Affirmative.” Was Spider’s quick reply, “I’m coming down… Wait for me?”

“Yeah.”

“By the way,” her voice cracks vividly through the receiver, “you get first watch next time Soap. Consider it my payment for saving your life.”

“Spider, you’ve got first watch.” Soap shouts across the room to where [Y/n] is sitting, propped up against a wall with her eyes closed.

“What?” Her eyes fly open in surprise at his statement, “No, I had first watch last time. Switch with me.”

“No.” He tries to sound stern but laughter seeps through the word as he watches her throw her head back into the wall with a thunk and groan lowly at his lack of negotiation with her. After only a few seconds she sighs deeply before lifting her head from the wall and locking eyes with Ghost.

“Switch with me, Ghost.” She whines back exasperated.

“No.” It’s short and curt and she doesn’t let his vague hostility deter her. She wants second watch at least, because right now her eyes feel like someone put sand in them with how horribly tired they feel, with how heavy she is with want for sleep.

“I’ll let you have sex with me.” It’s stated so plainly and so forwardly that it sounds less like a negotiation offer and more like a proclamation.

“Fucking hell.” Ghost shoots back, his tone barely containing the hint of bewilderment in his voice, which is almost completely drowned out by Soap’s loud and shocked, “What!?” from across the room. But [Y/n] watches Ghost’s eyes closely, noting the change that happens within them. His normally cold eyes had taken on a flicker of heat and the burn of his gaze in that moment made her skin itch with want. It had been a joke, a joke with a bit of truth behind it, yet a joke nonetheless, but the fact that he almost seems to consider her offer makes the hair on the back of her stand up and her mouth parched. Price’s cough of disapproval rips through the air, but [Y/n] decides to dig herself in further.

“I’m kidding…” Her easy, nonchalant laughter bounces off the walls of the small room, “Unless… unless you actually will trade with me then maybe we can work something out?” Her voice trails off taking on a slightly higher tone as she shrugs her shoulders and gestures her hands between the two of them vaguely.

“No one is trading sexual favors for watch times.” Interrupts Price’s loud voice, hellbent on stomping out whatever the hell this is that’s going on right now.

“What?” She questions, mildly defensive with an all too innocent tone, “I don’t have anything else to really offer right now. Unless you want my knife,” She adds, shifting her gaze from Price’s scolding and directing the offer solely back to Ghost with a hopeful tone, “Then I’ll give you my knife for second watch.” Her eyebrows raise up beneath her mask and her head tilts slightly forward into Ghost’s direction as if to imply that the deal was getting better.

“No.” Price answers in Ghost’s stead, although the fire behind Ghost’s eyes still does not quell as he continues to stare at her motionless. [Y/n] releases an empty sigh, sliding her eyes closed and throwing her head back into the wall.

“Fuck!” She exclaims roughly in defeat, “Fine.” And Spider picks herself up off of the floor and her hands move to grab the sniper rifle propped against the wall next to where she’d just been sitting. “If any of you need me I’ll be on the roof.” She groans out as she makes her way to the stairs, only stopping to call over her shoulder, “Try not to need me.”

‘Try not to need me.’ It rattles around the empty air downstairs after she’s gone until it sticks in Ghost’s mind. ‘Try not to need me.’ Too late.

It’s well into over an hour of her watch shift when she feels the hair on the back of her neck standing up in defense, when she feels like she's not alone anymore. So she turns her head from where she had been laying prone with her rifle watching the streets below between two cinder block openings on the edge of the roof, just in time to catch sight of Ghost making his way over to where she was, sitting next to her with his back to the cinderblock wall.

“You should be sleeping.” Spider mumbled out to him.

“You should be paying attention.” He motions his head slightly to the roads behind him in direction. He catches the way her eyes roll and he can tell she makes a face beneath her balaclava by the way the skin on the bridge of her nose crinkles up slightly.

“Really useful advice L.T,” She mumbles out deadpanned, he can hear the exhaustion clear in her voice, “you ever thought about writing self help books?”

He only hums absentmindedly in response and an empty silence fills the air between them for only a few seconds before he adds in, “You look tired.”

“Be still my foolish heart,” Spider remarks sarcastically, releasing her hand on her gun and grabbing at the center of her chest, “Ghost, if I didn’t know any better I’d think you just invited me to bed.”

“Obviously you know better.”

Spider hums limpidly in response.

“Go get some sleep. I’ve got the rest of your watch.”

Her head shakes and a simple reply of “no”, is immediately followed by a yawn and she turns her head over to look into Ghost’s eyes again to scold him limply. “Stop talking about sleep, you're making me yawn.”

“You look like you’re gonna fall asleep on watch. A punishable offense if you do.”

“Maybe I wanna be punished,” Spider teases in a tired voice, “help keeps the brain awake.”

“Can’t punish you if you’re dead from falling asleep on watch.”

“Sounds like you have to be proactive, L.T. Punish me in advance.” The fire is back in his eyes and [Y/n] realizes how deep she’s dug herself in this time, and so she does the only thing she can do. Dig deeper. “Are you going to punish me, sir?”

“It’s not a punishment if you enjoy it.”

“A morale booster, then?” She offers instead, “Promoting healthy team relations and engaging in bonding activities with your soldiers can have a positive influence on their morale and mission performance.”

“You think wanting to fuck your superior is healthy?”

“No. I think of it as an investment in the betterment of the team, Lieutenant. I stay awake and they stay alive. A win in my books, if you ask me.”

“Yet I didn’t ask.”

“No sir, you didn’t.” [Y/n] takes her time sitting up onto her knees from the position where she lay and moves over easily to sit next to Ghost, back pressed into the cinderblock wall. She reaches over him, torso pressing dangerously into his thighs as she grabs her bag and begins to riffle through it with a leisurely pace, before drawing out her heartbeat sensor. Within a second she is sitting back upright, hands moving to grasp firmly around the device before powering it on and placing it where she had just been laying watching the streets. She peers back up at him, something burning deeply behind her gaze. The smile normally dancing around in her eyes now gone completely, replaced by something altogether darker, and her voice is serious when she tells him, “But all you have to do is say the word.”

“Fucking hell. You’re a minx, you know that.”

“One of my finer qualities, I believe.” She whispers out breathily. [Y/n] makes slow work of invading his space, leaning in until their faces were only inches apart and throwing her leg across his lap, straddling him. Yet she doesn’t lower herself down, opting instead to reach up and release the latches holding on her body armor effectively slipping it off and dropping it to the side.

“Now, what are you going to do if you get shot at?” His question is fair, but it’s simply meant to tease her so she takes the bait.

“Pray they’ve got bad aim.” She states to him as she sits herself down onto his lap.

“And if they don’t?” He presses further into the hypothetical and his hands move from his sides to rest on the outside of her thighs in a teasingly light grip.

“Then I hope you take mercy on me and save my life.”

“I’m not a merciful man.” He states matter-of-factly, hands working up from their spot on her thighs to start moving up to her belt, where they make slow work of undoing the buckle there. Her exhale is shaky at the motion and she breaks eye contact to glance down as his hands work at their agonizing pace. Taking his time as if he had nothing better to do than make her wait for him.

“Then I hope you’ll make my last moments worthwhile.”

“Hmm,” He ponders curiously, fingers popping the button of her pants open, “do you really deserve that?”

“I’m hoping to win your favor.” She mutters back hopefully as Ghost leisurely pulls down her zipper.

“How do you plan to do that?” Ghost questions her evenly, not a single emotion betraying his voice.

“My dazzling wit and charm?” She’s ready to burst, almost shaking with anticipation as she watches him remove his glove to trace the skin above the edge of her panties.

“Hmm… Try something else.” He remarks mockingly.

“I’m useful.” She declares in a whine, hands reaching forward to braces on his shoulders as her eyes close with frustration.

“How so?”

The air is silent for a second too long and when he feels as though she has no intention of answering back he captures the elastic band of her panties and lets it snap back harshly against her skin. “I asked you a question.”

“I’m… I’m good with a rifle.” She stutters out quickly, “One of the best.”

“Anything else?”

“I’m light on my feet, quick,” She’s trying to think, her mind reeling trying to remember notable attributes of herself but her brain short circuits and she begins tripping on her words the moment he slips his hand into her pants, cupping her heat through her panties. “I-i can get in and out of places without detection.”

“Keep going.” He presses her, hand moving to pull her panties to the side so his finger can run through her slit, collecting the wetness there.

“I’m good under pressure. Rational.”

“Is that right?” He seems to contemplate her statement, weighing the validity of it given the current circumstances as his finger begins to circle roughly on her clit. Her response is almost immediate, choking out a sobbed “yes” as her breath quickens.

“Go on then.” He continued plainly, his voice just as even and level as it always was, even as he slips his finger from her clit down to her entrance and plunges into her.

“I’m…” And she has to stop to take a stuttering, stabling breath before lifting her head up from where it watches his hand work into her so that she can lay her forehead on his and stare into his eyes. “I’m damn good at my job,” her left hand moves from his shoulder to fist into the mask at the back of his neck for support, “you know it's true.”

“My intelligence.” She yelps out before he can even tell her to say another thing.

“What about it?”

“I’m. Very. Fucking. Intelligent.” [Y/n] enunciates between panting moans and gritted teeth, “One… one reason Price wanted me in 141.” Her chest is heaving as she shakes her head lightly to clear her thoughts, a poor attempt to get a cohesive string put together. “He found me as a Private. Fuck me,” She whines, “I was exemplary. The goddamn best at everything. I won him over.”

“How’d you manage that? Your dazzling wit and charm?” Ghost teases her with her own words as his thumb moves to rub at her clit in time with his hands sliding in and out within her. [Y/n]’s eyes flutter for a second at the added pleasure and her hand clenched tighter on his neck, twisting the mask fabric in her grip as she leans forward further into him, pressing her hips down to seek his hands movement. Their noses are touching now, barely any space between their mouths as they share each other's breath.

“The spider spins her web to catch what she wants.” She mumbles out through a shaky keen. “I’m soo useful Lieutenant. M-more useful than you could ever know.” Her eyes looked pleadingly into his as her hips moved in time with his hand, “Please don't stop.”

“You get off on praising yourself, Sergeant?” His voice is so goddamn taunting and the slight shame of it burns her face. There’s no other sounds in the air outside except their back and forth, and the sound of his hand moving within her and the slick wet sound of it has her mind reeling with longing and want.

“You’re m-making me.” [Y/n] counters back, “I’m doing what I’m told.” Ghost makes a noise in acknowledgment to her statement before adding a second finger in, working faster as she begins to drip down his hand.

“Then we’ll add that to the list. The good girl can do as she’s told.” His words of praise are met with her clenching down tightly on his fingers.

He’s startled when he feels the cool, trembling grip of her hand grasping desperately into the bare skin of his wrist beneath his sleeve. There’s something exhilarating about the feeling of her skin on his in this desperate attempt to ground herself to him, with him, when they’re both so covered. And God it feels like fire, feels like every nerve in his body has just been sent into overdrive because all he feels is the cool skin of her hand wrapped firmly around his wrist as her nails dig in sharp and the wet heat of her cunt dripping down his hand.

“You’d let me do anything to you, wouldn’t you?”

“Anything you wanted, Ghost.” She rasped back in confirmation, throwing her head back.

Ghost’s free hand shoots up from where it had been holding tightly to her thigh, capturing her chin in a bruising grasp and pulling her head down roughly until her forehead rests back on his. Holding her there until they’ve returned to sharing breath and air and there's almost no space between them, before continuing its journey downwards to her neck. Her eyesight falters then and her eyes slide shut when he squeezes at her neck just right and she preens at the motion.

“Look at me. Keep your eyes on me.” He demands and he squeezes her throat slightly harder at the command and her eyes slide open, teary and tired. “Atta girl.” And she can’t help but whimper lowly at the praise, panting heavily and tightening her hands grip on the wrist working between her legs. “See, that's not so hard, now is it?” He taunts lowly.

“No sir.” Her head is dizzy and her eyes are swimming with tears and pleasure each time he squeezes his hand around her throat, throwing her that much closer to the edge. [Y/n] can't help the choked, “oh God” she releases when his hands decided to speed up, the movement of her hips failing to keep up with his ministrations. The arch of her back makes quick work of closing the space between their bodies as she gets closer and closer, and her hand leaves his wrist in favor of bracing her forearm onto his shoulder for added support.

“You close?” Ghost asks, and had [Y/n] been in her right mind she would have noticed the glint of something devious slide though his gaze, but instead she just nods back with a tender “please” in response too focused on chasing her budding release. Ghost’s hand doesn’t relent in its hurried pace fucking into her, but he seems as if he’s waiting for something. Holding out on something until the last second and as she begins to spasm around his finger he seems to find exactly what he was looking for, exactly what he’s been waiting for.

His hand leaves from within her and off her neck in an instant and before she can register what's happened she hears her zipper being slid back up. It sends a panic straight through her when the thrumming of her body catches up to her brain and she realizes that she’s been left high and dry. He didn’t let her finish.

“Wh-what? Why?” [Y/n] wants to cry and for a second she’s very close to it. She wants to scream at the fizzling out of her high, shaking from denial she looks down just in time to catch Ghost’s hands thread her button back closed and slip her belt through the buckle tightening it. She lifts her eyes up for a second searching desperately for his and she sees a smug laughter swimming behind them before she draws her line of sight back to his hands. Hoping that if she stares at them long enough she can will them back to work, back to finishing her.

“You should go get some sleep.” He declares, adding a firm slap to her ass before holding onto it, and he sounds like he’s genuinely on the verge of laughter, like this was some kind of game he’s playing with her that he’s enjoying just a bit more than she is.

“But-but I didn’t…” And she stutters over her words, unable to form anything reasonable in her denial.

Her hand tries to reach down to where Ghost’s had just left, anticipation and her denied release eating at her bones telling her to finish the job, only to get intercepted before she can complete her goal. Ghost’s hand grips at her wrist tightly, bringing it up to rest in the air between their chests. At the same time his other hand rushes up to grasp harshly at her chin bringing her face up in front of his and he slowly peels his eyes away from her hand after a second to look into her own. The heat in them is different now, taking on a chilling burn that leaves her frozen on the spot beneath his gaze.

“What makes you think you deserve it? This is a punishment, remember? That is what you wanted. What you asked for.”

“Please… ” It’s a pathetic whine, one that he laughs at and her face burns dangerously beneath the fabric on her face.

“Go get some sleep.” Ghost orders again.

“I-i don’t think I can anymore.”

“You will. Consider it a test of your self control.” And when she makes no effort to move from his lap, he cocks his head to the side slightly, adding a taunting, “That’s an order, Sergeant.”

“Th-this isn't over.” [Y/n] states heatedly behind furrowed brows and heavy pants, “I’ll get you back for that.”

“Doubt that.” He husked evenly behind his mask.

Ghost finds her a few hours later when his watch had ended, next to Soap. Both of them sleeping on their backs with her head laid on his shoulder and his arm loosely wrapped around her neck with a light grip on her shoulder.

“He’s got the kid in a headlock.” Ghost remarks to Price.

“That can’t be comfortable.”

#Ghost x reader smut #Ghost smut #Simon riley x reader smut #Simon Riley smut #Ghost x reader #ghost fanfiction #Simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader smut

13K notes · View notes

jasmines-library · 30 days

Note

Hey, I love your Batfam work! Is there any chance you could do a whump/angst one of batsis being kidnapped by a villian(you can choose whoever you want) and she’s tortured for days with it being broadcasted to the Batfam while they try to track the footage. I feel kinda bad but can you do maybe some head trauma md severe burns? Maybe she has to be put in a medically included coma or smth because of the damage? Also is there any way you could include Barb and Duke along w/ the four robins? If not that’s totally cool! Sorry for the long request but I hope you have a great day!!

Anonymous Requested: batfam x batsib reader whos the youngest and newest robin and is just really goofy and doesn’t take anything seriously (ex: them blaring “who’s the (bat)man” on the comms during patrol [that songs stuck in my head i had to mention it]) and something happens, maybe their first close encounter to death or a run in with the joker and they just become a shell of who they were and stuff

Jokes On Me

⛤⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽⛧☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⛤

Note: My god im so sorry this literally took me forever to write, thank you so much for being patient. I've been trying to write this all week but just couldn't sit down for long enough to finish it.

Warnings: Torture, blood, burns.

Word Count: 2.5k

⛧ BATFAM MASTERLIST ⛧

⛤⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽⛧☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⛤

“Y/N, turn that shit off.”

Jason grumbled at you over the coms. You had been blasting some wretched song that you’d found on the internet over and over again and it was beginning to drive him mad.

“Nope.” You said, popping the ‘p’ loudly.

“Seriously.” Dick deadpanned. He had found it amusing at first, but it was now beginning to test his patience.

Agitated, you sighed and turned off the music. “Fine.”

“Thank you.” Jason expressed gratefully, turning his eyes back to the road he was patrolling. The night was cool and quiet besides the odd dog walker or couple returning from an evening out. It was one of those nights where patrol would end early and he could return home to take a warm bath and read a book before turning in for the night. Or so he thought.

You were rounding the corner, humming that tune that was still stuck in your head when his laughter ricocheted across the walls. You stiffened, eyes widening and hands fumbling for your weapon as your breath hitched. No amount of turning and craning your head allowed you to catch a glimpse of the dreaded figure, and you thought for a moment that perhaps it had just been a trick of your mind, or one of your brothers playing a cruel joke on you as payback for winding them up earlier. But then you heard it again, only this time to your left. You clutched your weapon tighter, eyes scanning the area with a new found sense of urgency.

“Wing…” You whispered into the coms so quietly that you were surprised he heard it.

“What now?” He somewhat snapped.

“We have a problem.”

Dick’s heart sank through the floor, his ears pricking up and his demeanour changing completely. “Where are you? What’s the matter? He was trying to let his panic show, but you hadn’t been patrolling as a vigilante for very long, and while you were well trained, you lacked the experience to deal with something big on your own. And from your tone of voice, he could tell that you were in some deep shit.

Jason worked his legs harder to push himself to reach the direction he had seen you head off in. Albeit it seemed even his hardest wasn’t enough.

When he stepped out of the darkness, the first thing you noticed were his eyes. Wide and bright, easily mistakable for a cat’s as they flashed in the darkness; wild. Rabid. As he emerged fully with that infamous twisted grin splayed out on his face, you felt like a cornered animal; a deer in headlights. You froze, unable to move despite how your heart screamed at you to run as it pounded, trying to break free from your ribcage.

“He’s here…” A mere whisper sliding over your tongue, so fragile that you weren’t even sure if you had actually said it aloud. Jason had heard it.

“Who?”

The Joker was circling you now, dragging out his strides in lazy circles. You should have fought but in that moment all of your training had drained out of you, along with the colour in your face. He smirked, leering down upon you as you tried to keep your trembling hand still. He pouted in mockery and at your silence, Jason repeated his question to you, but you never got the chance to respond.

“Oh…Just an old friend, Jay-bird.”

“Joker.” Urging his body to move faster, Jason grit his teeth.

Dick paled. “You leave them alone.” Dick spat. It tried to be a command, but the effect was lost somewhere in transmission.

The joker pursed his lips, tilting his head as he analysed. One of his hands had found his way to your jawline and he trailed it with a cold, gloved hand. You wanted to lean away, to run and find your brother but you knew that now he had you in his grasp there was no point in even trying. “And why would I do that? They’re right in front of me. I could just…snatch them up.”

“Don’t you dare!” Dick was frightened now. “Y/N, you stay there as long as you can, okay? You fight. We’re coming, you hear?”

The Joker frowned at you. “D’you hear that? Big brother birdy coming to the rescue. How sweet.”

His grip on you tightened. “Too bad you’ll be long gone by the time they get here.”

With one swift motion, he had thrown you harshly to the side, your head colliding with the wall with a sickening crack.

The two boys skidded to a halt just a second too late. You were already gone.

Your head hurt when you woke up. Your eyes squinted against the sterile light. They did no favours to your pounding headache. With a groan, you tried to twist, to roll over and soothe the crook in your neck but instead all that happened was the jinging of a metal chain. You craned your head and spotted the thick chain that had been wrapped around your wrist, confining you to the chair. Struggling, you tugged on them, trying to free yourself only for them to rattle and scrape against your skin.

“Yeah, that’s not going anywhere, birdy.” The joker chided.

You glared at him through narrowed eyes, trying to mask the thumping of your heart. The joker grinned wildly at your frightened complexion.

“It was such a shame that Grayson and Todd didn’t get to you in time, but it was far too easy to catch you, little bird: you completely froze.” He snapped his fingers to emphasise his point. “Didn’t batsy teach you better?”

“Don’t talk about them.” You snapped.

The joker raised his hands, palms facing toward you in surrender: taunting you as if you were the one with the power in the situation. “Touchy subject I see. Too bad.”

He gestured above you to an incessantly blinking light. “Smile for the camera, you’re live.”

Babs had been monitoring the street cameras when the computer beside her flickered to life. She had been searching for any sign of you ever since Dick and Jason came flying through the grandfather clock. Everyone was on edge.

The moment the screen flashed on, her eyes perked up to watch it, alarmed. She hadn’t turned it on. And there were very few people who could bypass the caves system. So when she saw a small frame curled up in a chair she knew immediately what was up.

“Duke…” she called to the dark haired boy who was trying to help decipher your whereabouts. “Go and get B.”

It did not take long at all for everyone to gather around in the cave. Duke was fast, and everyone dropped what they were doing to race down: even Alfred had taken his leave from his duties to see.

It was almost like some sick irony because as soon as they were all there, you began to scream. A guttering, perfect scream that cut that through them like a knife: unclean and pinging into them messily again and again.

The joker had taken a knife to your left thigh, his smile dripping with malice as he watched the camera, somehow knowing that at least one of them would be watching.

Your face was contorted in pain, twisting in agony as tears rolled flatly down your cheeks from fearful eyes. Damian felt sick, his stomach churning. Jason wanted to leave. But all of them were stuck watching. Barbra was tapping away, trying to locate the signal from the video to no avail.

“I hope you’re watching this Batsy…” He moved round to trail your face with the edge of the knife. You whimpered. “I’ve got your little bird here and I must say, you need to work on their training. They were far too easy to catch.”

Bruce felt his jaw tightening and Tim had to place a hand on his arm to remind him of his place.

“Anyway I thought we would play a little game… how long can little y/n survive for. I wonder if it’ll be any longer than our very own Jason Todd.”

Jason twitched.

“I’m testing you here, Bat. Tick Tock.”

The transmission cut to black.

It seemed hopeless. Even though they had been searching for days, they were no closer to finding you. And to make matters worse, they could see you. Not long after the first transition ended did it start up again. It had been lifestreaming since then, and although they had tried to block it from their minds, it was hard to ignore. Especially when your agonised screams ricocheted throughout the halls.

You looked like hell. Dark bags occluded under your eyes and there wasn’t an inch of your skin that wasn’t marred or stained with drying blood. The burns were worse. Damian could still hear the scream you let out when the joker first brought the hot poker to your skin. It had bubbled and blistered as the skin peeled away; you had thrashed against your restraints violently. Tim was certain that they were going to get infected if they didn’t reach you soon.

It felt as if they had searched everywhere. Dick and Jason had even asked around to see if anyone had heard anything, going as far to talk to the Jokers closest associates in Arkham, but even if they did know, nobody said anything. Duke had even gone as far to go back to the area to use his powers to see if he could trace anything, but nothing seemed out of place; they had hit a brick wall. That was…until a small light appeared on the monitor. Babs had managed to trace the signal to a small building on the outskirts of the city.

They were suited up in minutes, making a beeline for the building. They stormed it, recklessly taking down the Joker's goons before Batman chased wildly after the Joker, his face stony and his fists burning with anger. The other four boys chased down the winding corridors, flinging open the doors until they found one that was locked. Tim wasted no time, picking the lock with ease he peeled it open. His breath hitched when he saw you.

Your face was gaunt, hanging low by your chest. Your suit was torn and there was less of it on your body than there was ripped away. You looked so fragile as your chest heaved sporadically.

Jason nearly had to take a step back. This place reminded himself too much of his own encounter with the Joker not too long ago. But he pressed forward, fighting his instincts. He had to be strong. Instead of turning back, he kneeled in front of you, whispering your name. His hand came up to cup your face. You flinched away.

“It’s okay kid. It’s us.” He tried to reassure you, but you shrank back into yourself.

“We’re so, so sorry kiddo.” Dick tried placing a gentle hand on your arm before moving to work on the cuffs around your wrists. “We’re going to get you out.”

You said nothing, just continued to stare at the black space before you, and Dami wasn’t sure if you even knew they were in front of you. But when Jason moved away from you to help remove your restraints, your fingers latched onto him and you squeaked in protest.

He sighed shakily. “Don’t worry kid. I’m not going anywhere.”

Damian twisted from where he was guarding the door. “We need to leave.”

Dick nodded bluntly, finishing with the last of the locks. “I’m going to have to pick you up, okay sweetheart?”

You barely registered what he had said. Everything had grown numb, you nodded anyhow. Moving his arms underneath your legs and slipping one arm behind your back, Jason began to lift you. He nearly recoiled when you cried and whimpered with the way your wounds jostled as he sprinted out of the building to get you back to safety.

You were yet to say anything since you came home. You had been back a few days and your wounds were healing up nicely thanks to Alfred’s handywork, but the air was eerily silent around you. It wasn’t as if you hadn’t been communicating with them; you spoke to them with gestures or writing but no one was used to not hearing your voice. The stark contrast between your loud and bustling personality and you now was unsettling. No one wanted to push you too far but the manor was beginning to grow lonely.

It was one particularly rainy night when you finally spoke. You were curled up in a large armchair by the window in the library, sinking back into the plush leather as you watched the raindrops race down the glass. Jason had been watching you from afar, contemplating whether to talk to you or not when he walked over.

“What are you up to?” He asked you, making sure you knew that he was there before he spoke.

You gestured toward the window,then to the half opened book at your feet and shrugged.

“I see.” He nodded, taking a seat on the armchair opposite you. A comfortable silence settled between the two of you. Jason wasn’t much of a talker. He knew more than anyone what you were going through, which was why it was nice just to know that he was willing to sit with you, just so you knew that he was there if you needed him. It made you feel safe. But you also couldn’t help but feel guilty, and frustrated with yourself for being in a place that made him feel as though he had to do that.

“I’m sorry.” You whispered.

Jason had to do a second take. His heart swelled. “What for?”

You sighed. “This. When I saw him…i-i froze. If I had run then this would never have happened.”

“Shh. This isn’t your fault.”

“But-”

“I promise, Kid. You’ve done nothing wrong.”

You nodded, looking away from him. But then you furrowed your brows and turned back to him. “How did you do it? How did you deal with this, Jay? Every time I close my eyes he’s there.”

“I guess I don’t, really. Or sometimes it feels like I don’t. I still get scared sometimes. I still see him in my dreams. But over time it gets easier. I had people around me to help me. And so do you, kid. We’re here. We’ll always be here.”

Jason shifted to brush away a rogue tear and you leaned into his touch and then wrapped your arms tightly around his middle.

“I’m here. Always. We’ll get through this together.”

⛤⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽⛧☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⛤

BATFAM TAGS

@aestheticdaisies @hearts4robs @xxrougefangxx @mamapucket @hell-o-kittys @harleycao @batfamsstuff @alicedawitchbish

⛤⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽⛧☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⛤

721 notes · View notes

prettyboykatsuki · 6 months

Text

TEXTBOOK CITATIONS ON IMMORAL SEX | S. GETOU ft. F. TOJI

✮ tags ; porn no plot, afab + fem!reader (good girl, little girl once sarcastically by toji, pretty), mild degradation (dirty girl, a bitch in heat), professor!getou + security guard!toji, dubcon, imbalanced power dynamics, age gaps(10+ years), mild coercion / blackmail, spit play, wet ‘n messy sex, face-fucking, oral (f +m!recieving), spanking, restraints, dirty talk, creampie / unprotected sex, 18+

✮ wc ; 10.6k

✮ synopsis ; You’re willing to do anything to pass your intro course. Whatever it takes. No cost is too high.

✮ a /n ; a comm for the beloved @fushironi !!! thank you for commissioning me and letting me post your work. if anyone is interested in a commission i will be reopening them at some point this month hopefully

A SIDE NOTE: THIS IS VERY CONSENSUAL!! but the relationship is inherently unethical so the dubcon tag is there. and this is. just smut. no plot no brain. just porn.

You're failing ethics.

You're failing ethics and failing it badly.

You refuse to take all of the blame for your failures. Some of it is your fault, but most of it is the fault of your good-for-nothing academic advisor. You're not sure what they get paid for, since it seems like there's an elaborate prank going on between staff and you're the only one not in on the joke. In what universe is it possible, plausible - that an individual could get paid for doing everything but their job?

Apparently this one. But whatever.

In your last semester of university, on the edge of graduating and totally on the right track - you're informed that you're not going to be able to graduate in the expected time frame because you are missing a single course. You learn this information about two days before registrations close, which means all the meaningful classes contributing to your major are booked and busy. Everything is full, and everything that isn't doesn't contribute to your degree. As in, even if you took it - it wouldn't give you what you need to graduate.

After a full-blown mental break, a long night crying yourself to sleep in your dorm, and an egregious amount of begging - you managed to snag yourself a class. It wasn't ideal by any stretch of the imagination, and it did put quite the strain on your schedule. Straight out of your 8am lab - you had to speed walk to the other end of campus and make sure you made it to lecture. The lecture time itself was an hour and twenty minutes, attendance mandatory, twice a week - which meant you had to delay lunch again till afterwards and learn on empty fumes till 1 pm.

Still, better than not graduating at all.

You'd hoped (expected?) that the course itself would be about average in coursework. For one, it's an intro class. Intro to Ethics or PHIL-2467, with Professor Getou Suguru. Secondly, the actual listed coursework seems simple enough. Discussion boards, reading analysis, and a few papers made up for most of the grade. The expectations were outlined as clearly as they could be.

You didn't really know anything about Professor Getou at the time, only that his ratemyprofessor described him as somewhat strict but mostly good.

In any case, you'd consider yourself lucky. And in an effort not to freak out about your circumstances, you'd practically chanted to yourself each night the same mantra. Everything was going to be fine. You've taken nearly 120 hours of coursework, and a little extra time won't kill you. At the start of the semester, you fully believed it too. Bright-eyed, bushy-tailed, and utterly naive.

How could a single course torment you like this? You hadn't the faintest clue. At first, it struck you as odd that the course felt as difficult to grasp as it did. The readings were complex and extremely long but always said a lot of nothing. Much of your grade was dependent not only on assigned work but participation and discussion. The paper criteria was only simple on the surface, but proved to be too lengthy to comprehend and too difficult to fulfill.

Long story short, the class was kicking your ass. And the ass-kicking slowly progressed into a failure so bad it was laughable. You're in your final year, and that means taking a lot of difficult and specified courses in relation to your major. You were at the point where your classmates were starting to thin out, and you were seeing the same group of people you had as a freshman. As far as prioritizing goes, a 3-credit hour course that isn't technically meaningful to you falls to the very bottom of your priorities. You're more concerned with things like job-hunting and finishing your capstone and all the stuff related to your actual career.

So you've been half-assing all the papers and exams, falling asleep in class, and lowkey straight up ignoring the weekly discussion boards.

However, above everything else, the worst part of your class is your professor. Professor Getou Suguru. PhD in Comparative Ethics with a Masters in Cognitive Science.

You didn't really have a chance to speak with any of your friends about Professor Getou, despite it being in your best interest - because you only knew you had the class two days before it started. You'd come to learn only two things about him after attending. First, he's a complete hardass when it comes to grading any assignments, and second most of his merit comes from the fact he is ridiculously good-looking.

He can't be any older than his late thirties or early forties, which means he's young. Young enough to be attractive but old enough for most of your peers to thirst for him in unhealthy ways. He's at least a decade and a half older than you, and by god does he make it clear.

What they don't tell you about college is that there's nothing that can make or break a class more than your professor. Everyone is always too worried about everything else, about getting their schedule right - that they often overlook this basic tenet of college life even though it's so crucial. The worst part is that while various websites rating your professors are helpful, you won't truthfully know how you feel about a professor until you've met them in a classroom. You've had professors with lower ratings be absolute angels, and professors with higher ones being some of the most useless in your entire academic career.

You were hoping that Professor Suguru would be what you expected. That his astounding 4.5/5 would be a meaningful assessment of his character, that he would be tolerable and polite and understanding and that your semester would be smooth sailing because of it.

But of course, of course - that couldn't be further from the truth.

You don't know at what point exactly your relationship to Professor Suguru became as sour as it is right now. There's no real pivotal movement where mild intolerance became full-blown and outright distaste. But part of it, you know, stems from the fact your beloved professor is a snake.

You have no idea how no one else notices it. It genuinely feels like you're the only one who catches the subtleties of his behavior. There's just something about him that's a little…off. The irony isn't lost on you. He's an ethics professor, but something about him makes alarm bells go off in your head. A walking red flag, though a handsome one. He's off in a subtle way, but more than that - he's very openly smug to every single one of his students. It's just that no one else seems to really care. The air of pretension that surrounds him in his every movement is suffocating. Maybe that's part of the charm, if the way girls flock to him after class is anything to go by.

Even so, you just know there's something deliberate about his casual cruelties. He always seems to pick out the quiet kids, and from the beginning of your semester to now - he always, always manages to single you out of the crowd of students. In every class, in every discussion, in every chance he has to make you out to be a troublemaker he will.

Yes, you don't really have any idea how it started. But you've been keeping a long record of every single act of personal terror that damned man has been inflicting on you since the start of the course, and you're not unconvinced that your shit grade is in part because he wants to see you grovel in front of him.

The first time it happened - you figure it was a coincidence. He had called you out in class after you missed a discussion board. You hadn't done the reading, and it wasn't obviously humiliating but it singled you out all the same. When you fumbled coming up with an answer, he gave you a smug smile that so quickly morphed into a fake sincere one, you wondered if you were imagining things.

The second time was when you came in late after a walk of shame, and Professor Suguru greeted you by the door by asking if those were the same clothes you wore yesterday. After being completely mortified by it, the once dark gaze immediately rescinded to his usual fake-calm self. It was suspicious, but not the concrete evidence you needed.

And the third time was after your first project of the semester. Your grade was lower than you deserved, and you knew it - so you went to his office hours to bitch and moan to get it bumped up. But he wouldn't budge, saying that he thought his assessment was accurate. Made a smug face as he told you he just didn't think you thought your points out through. Unfair critiques shielded by flowery words and polite gestures. It was that moment that cemented the dislike, though it wasn't the start.

The beginning of the end, so to speak.

Ever since then, you've harbored nothing but dislike for him. You can see past his pretty face and you don't see anything good. You've had unpleasant professors before, but none have ever targeted you so specifically. None of your previous professors, even at the worst, seemed to hold such an unbelievable personal grudge.

You're all alone, fighting an invisible battle.

The worst of it though, is that you simply couldn't be bothered to give a shit about it for most of the semester. You had way too much going on, so you just had to put up with the inexplicable dread of attending that class until you had to deal with it again eventually.

And after months and months of avoiding the issue head-on, you're at a point where you can no longer do so. Your grade is officially below a C after bombing your last quiz, and there's only 5 weeks left until your semester is over and you're barred from graduation.

And you have no fucking idea what you should do about the situation.

There's a subtle pit of dread in your stomach as you enter your first philosophy lecture of the week.

For the first time since the start of the semester, Professor Getou doesn't antagonize you as soon as you enter the door. In a strange way, this makes you kind of uncomfortable. He gives you his usual fake smile, but the fact he's gone out of his way to leave you alone makes you feel like he's planning something.

You brush your paranoia aside as you take a seat in the back of your class. You don't have any friends in this lecture, at least not ones you do more than greet. You sit closer to the back of the lecture hall, tucked into a corner and up a few steps.

The charms on the end of your book bag zippers click together as you take your seat. You open your laptop - pulling up the lecture slides to pretend to study while opening 2048 to play while Professor Getou goes on about his business. You're hoping he's going to go easy on you today, and that his lack of interference is a sign of mercy.

More people start to trickle in and the classroom is the usual amount of packed it is by this point in the semester. The last day to drop passed last week, so the number of students has decreased despite it being spring semester.

Your professor starts his lecture as soon as the clock hits 11:30am. You look up from your computer, watching him as he sets up his slide deck and waits for all the conversation to settle before he begins talking.

He catches your eyes briefly before he continues, but he holds it for long enough that you know it's intentional. You frown at him, and it almost looks like he laughs - but you can't be sure your mind isn't tricking you into thinking that.

"Good morning everybody," His voice is smooth and pleasant - hair tied up neatly. He's wearing his usual attire. Black slacks, and a loose-fitting white shirt with some kind of canvas shoe. "How's everybody hanging in there? Good? Bad?"

He takes a look around the room, gauging peoples replies before chuckling.

"Not in good shape huh? Stick it out, a few more weeks and you'll be out of here. Today, we're going to continue on into section five of our coursework - the shortest of all of our other sections," He grabs something that clicks the slide into the next one, a few images next to a wall of text "We have a lot to cover in the last few weeks, but I want to start with a refresh of what concepts we've been learning for the last few weeks."

The swiftness in the way his eyes land on you is comical in its predictability. You give him an uncomfortable half-smile as he calls your name and brings the class's attention your way. A few looks of pity don't go unnoticed. You stiffen, straighten your back as he says your name slowly before asking.

"Do you think you can tell me, what are the four core structures that define modern Japanese philosophical thinking?"

There's real, uncomfortable weight to his gaze that makes you choke. You pull back slightly.

"Uhm, well - there's Shintoism, Confucianism, Buddhism and western ideology. Primarily German idealism."

He gives you a smug look, the same one you always see before it fades off to an uncannily brilliant smile. Not a sincere one, because when is it ever - but there all the same.

"Someone's been studying hard huh? But you are correct. We've spent the majority of this class going over the first three. How Shinto tradition, Confucianism, and Buddhism were experienced in Japan - isolated from Anglo-Saxon influence for the first few centuries of its establishment. We've also studied the vague historical timeline of these influences, mostly focusing on modern philosophy. We've covered Edo period philosophy as a precursor for what we know and understand now."

You can say a lot about Professor Getou, but more than anything - he has a certain way of commanding the room's attention that never lets you get completely comfortable. He has an air of charisma you've never seen in your life and being in close proximity to it makes you feel like you're being swept in by waves larger than life.

You fidget almost anxiously as you wait for him to continue his lesson.

"Our last few weeks are going to cover the culmination of your previous lessons, and what dictates both national morality and the hierarchy of modern Japanese social mores - Bushido. The way of the Samurai."

Professor Getou continues with this slide deck as he outlines Bushido conceptually. From its existence as a moral code in late 12th century Japan, to the many misconceptions about the strictness in which it was adhered. He starts the lessons like he starts many others, explaining misconception and myth before touching the surface of the subject at hand.

It's in his nature to advocate for the whole truth. From the start of your classes to now, Professor Getou always places the same emphasis. If only that truth is unable to be understood without opposition. It's like his whole being is constructed by it, opposition that is always radical and jaw-dropping. You've known this about him since he voiced his open critique for certain ideas about social welfare and about the emphasis of national morality.

You can't be certain what he really believes - only that he'll voice his views as critically as possible, if only to stir the room.

"Bushido is the heart and soul of modern and postmodern Japanese ethics, but it remains critically undefined despite its usage and citation functionally. Other philosophical schools of thought have strict definitions - Bushido is evolutionary in nature. Inazo Nitobe is primarily credited with the modern and popular interpretation of Bushido, but has received criticism for its obvious influence from Western ideas, and its comparison to chivalry."

Professor Getou sits back on the edge of his desk with a look on his face.

"The tendency of Japanese philosophy to lean into metaphysics does not align with the many values of infrastructure and military present in the culture now, but I'm not going to critique the philosophy for you," He skips to the next slide, your last project of the semester on the wall "For the sake of brevity, I'm going to have you write a paper on one of the eight outlined ideals in Nitobe's work, and I want you to reflect on that ideal in your paper."

A collective whispering erupts in the class as people stress about the assignment of their final few weeks. Not unexpected given the circumstances. Professor Getou doesn't flinch as he waits for the room to settle down.

"This will be your final project in this classroom, and will count as your final grade. On one hand, doing a good job on it means you have nothing to worry about for the last few weeks. On the other it's make or break," He locks eyes with you again as he says this, startling you as his smile grows coy and inauspicious "So if you're in need of a good grade to pass you, I'd recommend coming to see me during office hours or during one-on-one time so I can get you the grade you need. We'll discuss more at the end of class, but we've gotta get through more lectures so you can get an idea of what you can pick."

He gives you one another look, another pointed and obviously direct look, before he proceeds on with his lecture. It gives you a bad feeling in your stomach, and maybe you're being too self-centered thinking he's focusing too much on you.

But you can't help it, swallowing down your uncertainty as you continue on with the lesson.

You need to pass this class.

___

You meet up with Nobara after the fact.

She's a good sounding board for your problems as usual. Where you're always looking for the most civil solutions, she's good at giving it to you straight on what you should do. She's no bullshit and you like that about her. Whenever you need a kick in the ass or an ounce of courage, she's the person for the job.

So after meeting up for lunch, ranting again about Professor Getou (for the hundredth—no, thousandth time), and whining about his weird behavior, you're expecting some semi-sound, if not mean advice on what you should do.

"Have you thought about just fucking him?" She says instead, her voice full of sincere boredom. It comes out so casually, like she's relaying the news cycle to you - and you can't help but be utterly shocked listening to it. "Not that it was my first suggestion, but I mean…it's getting ridiculous."

"Hello? Where the hell did that come from? What do you mean just fucking him?"

She gives you a sideways glance of disdain as if you were the one saying something unreasonable. She leans forward into her hand mirror, gluing on her eyelashes for her afternoon date with Maki. She scoffs when she realizes your shock is genuine.

"Are you serious? Does this not read as an elaborate scheme for this total jackass to fuck you?"

You're flabbergasted. Surely she's not being serious with you.

"Nobara."

"Haah? Tch. Don't make that face. It's a gross abuse of his power but well, he's not ugly. If he were any younger of a professor, would you like… not assume that was the end game?"

"Nobara, he's a professor of ethics. His whole career is ethics."

"Yeah. Like. The perfect cover for wanting to screw his wide-eyed, desperate students. He's a hot, young professor. Not my type but you get me. Don't you think it's a little naive to assume his personal vendetta against you is shit, I don't know… totally lacking that motive? Think with your brain, not your tender little heart for a minute, okay?"

"It's not that!"

"Really? Just like your relationship with Mr. Fushiguro is totally platonic?"

"I said it was one-sided, not platonic."

"You're my whole heart and soul, you know that right? I didn't freak on you when you said you had a crush on Megumi's deadbeat dad. You're my salvation from the idiots we call guy friends. So I'm saying this with love, and not as the complete bitch you know me as - you're being dumb."

"Nobara, are you seriously saying you think this whole thing is about him wanting to," You can barely even get the words out. You're not that much of a prude but god. "Wanting to have… sex with me?"

"Yeah. What else would it even be? I think an awful man is interested in screwing you - a hot, capable twenty-something. Are you stupid? Is that like, sooo impossible for you to consider?"

"Well it's not the first place I would think to go, that's for sure."

"And that's your whole problem. Don't get me wrong, again, totally gross. Is it like.. a total abuse of his authority? Yeah. But that doesn't have anything to do with you personally. If I'm right, and you fuck him - you get a good lay and to graduate. And you need both."

"Nobara!"

"Don't be mad, I love you, okay? But I'm thinking about your future and your prospects. There's nothing wrong with it on a technical level."

"That is so untrue and you know it—"

"Look. I don't like it. I think it's a weak move and kind of corny and gross. But you've been planning your big graduation for years. And it's not a bad opportunity, and you're not a complete idiot. You said before that he's never inappropriate with the other girls right? You might even be the only one. As far as I'm concerned, there's no reason for you to not get laid and pass."

"Oh, so the student-teacher thing isn't reason enough?"

"Not if you wanna graduate it's not."

The two of you remain at a stand-still as his words trap you into a corner. How the hell do you even deal with this information? And how on Earth is she so sure of herself anyways? You think you're pretty good with signs, at least about things like this.

But it doesn't feel like flirting. He's never flirted with any of the students in class, despite how much they seem to fawn over him. Could this weird, psychological dance you've been doing for the last twelve weeks be some sort of unspoken foreplay ritual?

The more you think about it, the less it seems implausible to you. There's a wave after that, some cross between impending doom and shameful arousal blooming up inside of you as everything hits you all at the same time.

When you return to reality after being trapped in your thoughts, Nobara gives you a mindful (almost pitiful) smile and shakes her head. You frown at her in reply, squeezing the bridge of your nose.

"If it were like literally anyone else, I'd totally tell them it's a bad idea. But it's not like you're going on to date him, and you're what - 24? because of your gap year so you're not a preteen like some of the freshmen in your class. I just don't see any reason not to go for it."

You tamp down the small voice in the back of your head, encouraging you to do - and instead ask her a follow-up question.

"...Do you think I should attend his office hours tomorrow, yes or no? I have to email him by tonight to get the one on one."

"Yeah. Yes. And shave before you go."

You decide, for the sake of your sanity and everyone else's - to ignore Nobara's odd implications about what Professor Getou wants from you and to attend his office hours.

(That's a partial lie, you figure - given the fact you did shave, and shower before attending. You're wearing something kind of nice underneath. But you still don't think he wants to fuck you. It's more of a safety precaution than anything else.)

You made the game plan last night that you would go, present your idea, and then beg him to be kind to you during the grading process. You even developed a list of things to sob and cry about it to generate something of a sob story if everything went awry. You've forsaken your pride. The only thing that you need to get out of this meeting is a passing grade.

And that is, of course, by any means necessary.

Fearing for your life, the state of your mood improves as you approach the building hosting Professor Getou's office. Of all of the people you interact with semi-regularly on campus (all of which you are quite fond of), Nobara wasn't lying about your affection for campus security guard - Toji Fushiguro.

He's an older man. Older than you by double digits, and from what you can tell - older than even your professor. You've been fond of him ever since he brought you back to your dorm after a horrible break-up with your ex as a sophomore. He's got a rough edge, and there's plenty of unverified rumors of his past. You know that he has something of a criminal record too.

But for all of those rumors, and for all the things you hear about him - he's been one of the highlights of your campus experience. You've had a one-sided school-girl crush on him ever since that night, because you were sober enough to catch his body and how it feels. He was strong. Not in an average way. He made it so effortless when he was carrying you home in his arms - and it's not the first time you've seen him lug around things at least over 300 pounds like they were nothing.

But attractiveness aside, he is uncharacteristically good at cheering you up. He's funny and witty, all while maintaining a cool facade. He's endearing in his own way too, and you're a little head over heels for him though you'd never push yourself to make the first move.

Still, when he sees you come towards the building - he greets you with a wide smile. The scar over his busted lip - split open and welcoming as you run up to him for a hug. He's normally patrolling around campus, so it feels lucky to catch him where you least expect.

He wraps you up with a single arm, your feet temporarily lifting from the ground before you get put back down again.

"Mr. Fushiguro, what are you doing here?"

"I got moved over here since there's been some rumor about someone stealing from the labs upstairs. So I'm on lock up duty for this building 'till it gets fixed up and solved," He says, voice as smooth as ice "What about you sweetheart? It's gonna get dark out soon."

"Ah, I have office hours with Professor Getou today. I need to consult with him about a paper."

"That right? Just gonna be you in there, then?"

"Yep. I'm gonna go in there and beg him for a good grade on our next assignment. So for the sake of my sanity, please wish me luck?"

Mr. Fushiguro tilts his head to one side, grinning.

"Wouldn't that mean you graduate sooner instead of later? Can't wish ya luck on that." He says, making you flush and letting the feeling linger before continuing "Just kiddin'. A pretty face like yours should do you just fine. Knock 'em dead."

"I feel a lot better about it with your encouragement." You say honestly. Mr. Fushiguro gives you a laugh.

"Treat me to something if my luck makes any difference. And hurry in. Last thing you'd wanna do is be late."

You nod, wide-eyed and dazed by how charismatic he is before you rush into the building. It's silent, given how late in the school day it is. Most people have already gone home, with the exception of the other poor souls likely chasing down their professors for the same reasons as you.

You feel an overwhelming sensation of dread as you encroach upon Professors Getou's office. There's no one else in the close vicinity, only a few closed classrooms and students who are passing by the small corner where his door resides - most of which are making their way to leave.

You decide to take a deep breath, calming your shaken nerves before knocking politely once on his door and entering the room.

Professor Getou's office looks like how you'd expect it to look. It's clean, and sleek - and lacking almost completely of items of personal effect with the exception of his desk. It's the first time you've ever been inside of the room before, but it smells distinctly of him. He has that same scent surrounding him, like flicks of nicotine and a hint of bergamot. Sweet with the taste of metallic bitterness, like blood and sugar.

You feel the back of your throat bob as you see your Professor sitting at his desk. It's lacking his usual gracefulness. His shirt is unbuttoned down by three entire buttons, and his slacks seem looser. Most notable is his hair - classically long, now in a loose bun with pieces falling all on his shoulders and rolling down his neck.

You think of what Nobara said to you earlier in the day alone, a strange and overwhelming sensation of lust and embarrassment making it difficult for you to open your voice and talk.

It's Professor Getou who greets you first. He looks up from whatever he was reading and looks at you from where you stand awkwardly at his door. His smile widens, though it's just by a little.

"Ah, I was wondering when you'd be here. Looks like you're right on time." He says first, sitting up in his chair but not bothering to gather himself in any way otherwise "Come on in and sit. I assume you're here to talk about your grade."

You sit across from him hesitantly, hands folded in your lap as you put your bag down on the floor.

He studies you quietly. There's a long stretch of silence, where neither of you do anything but sit in each other's company.

He breaks the silence first.

"So, while I have a guess," He says, elbows on his desk "Do you want to talk to me about what you're here for?"

You've practiced the dialogue in your head so many times now. What to do and how to say what you need too, but the words seem to fizzle out completely when it's time to really say them. Leaving nothing but uncertainty, you open your mouth only to close it once again.

"Uhm," Your voice strains trying to make the words out into a coherent sentence. "I came to talk about my paper. And my grade, like you mentioned in class."

"So you decided to heed my advice? Good girl, that was a smart choice," You try not to be taken aback by the pet name - unsure if it's as inappropriate as you think it is "Do you know what virtue you want to cover?"

"I thought I would pick uhm, righteousness - and then pull from some of the Western ethics we learned about. Making uh, connections between deontological ethics and duty and how it relates to the defined idea of righteousness," You explain nervously, an uncomfortable laugh bubbling out of your throat "How practicing duty and righteousness relate to each other."

"Hmm. Sounds like you've had time to think about it a little, then."

"I uhm, haven't finished the reading but I did take a look over my section to see if I could make it work."

"I think you have something to work with. You'll need to straighten out the thesis of your paper into something more tangible. I know that's an ironic ask. But I think it's a good idea," He gives you a brief glance, studies you with eyes. Snake-like. Something coils inside of you, tickles and brushes against your skin and makes the hairs on the back of your neck raise "It seems like you have something more to tell me, though."

Do you? Is there anything more there? The answer lies indifferently on a scale from obviously to no. nothing at all and it haunts you that he's able to pick it out.

"It's just well. Uhm. You know, I don't have the best grade in this class so I was more prepared to go down with my grade. You approved quicker than I thought you would."

"Your grade is pretty abysmal. Did you come in here planning to beg?"

You refrain from an instant yes, even though it's what you feel. Something about the way he says it makes your stomach clench. Your heart quickens. Your tongue feels too heavy in your mouth as you laugh uncomfortably.

"Something like that? Uhm, or at least try to hash things out between us. I know our relationship over the c-course of the semester has been kind of sour so I…"

He cuts you off.

"Has it?"

Your brain stutters to halt.

"Uhm. Yes?"

It's unpredictable, utterly and completely - the way he reflects on your words like you've said something incomprehensible. You aren't sure if that's sincere. You can't be sure if any of the words out of his mouth are. But he doesn't seem like he's lying. Your mind flashes to Nobara, and you find yourself speaking before you can stop it. It comes out like a flood.

"I j-just always assumed you singled me out in class because you didn't like me? I don't mean to be accusatory, though."

"I'm afraid you've got the wrong idea," He says, shaking his head "I don't harbor any negative feelings for you at all."

"Oh," You say, eyes falling down to your lap again "Right, then."

"You must be desperate for that passing grade, hm? If you're meeting with a professor you think hates you."

You glance at him.

"Well, yes. I want—need to pass this class. I've already planned my graduation for this semester."

"And you'd be willing to do anything for that, is what you're implying?"

"Yes," You say, with a sudden rush of unwavering confidence "Anything."

"Let me ask you another question, then." He lets his elbows rest on the edge of his table, a familiar coy smile "Do you think there's any other reason for why I've been paying special attention to you, aside from me disliking you? You're a smart girl, so I'm sure you'll be able to figure it out."

The weight of his words don't go unnoticed. The air feels heavy as it hangs between you. He couldn't be implying it so directly could he? Your mind drifts back to Nobara's warning to you, and your breath hitches. Your eyes widen as you glance up for the first time and give him a look of mild distress.

And he smiles. His grin widens as soon as it dawns on you.

"Seems like you've reached an important conclusion," He says, casually - as he sits up in his chair and leans back. Stretched like nothing could get in his way "Why don't you share with the class?"

"You," Your voice is a nervous tremor. You must be crazy. You must be completely out of your mind "...To sleep with me?"

"See? I told you, you're a smart girl."

The question is a burning one. One you've been wanting to ask since you started thinking about it last night.

"B-but…why? And why me? A-and,"

"You have a tendency for being combative. You know that? An air of defiance. I can tell you're a little older than your peers. A little wiser, and a little more knowing of when to ask for help," Getou outlines, staring you down "And seeing you with that sense of desperation was exciting for me. I'm a man of simple tastes. At my age, I know what I want."

"And I like when tough, combative, clever women turn into babbling, desperate, needy girls. I'm quite fond of it, actually."

He's detrimentally serious. Your stomach flips.

"Do you want to pass this class?" He asks you, an air of confidence surrounding him. You close your eyes, unsure if you can call it coercion when you're feeling so terribly willing about it.

"Yes. I need to pass."

"Then come up here," He gestures, widens his legs and leans back in his chair "And sit."

Your body is burning. You don't know if you're even really in the situation, or if you've daydreamed it into something impossible. Something phantom moves you. Stands you to your feet shakily before walking in short strides. Professor Getou looks at you from where you stand over him.

His hand brushes your outer thigh, patting it.

"Sit."

So you sit. You spread yourself and straddle your professor - and the reality dawns on you the minute you touch what you're doing. You haven't gotten laid in a bit, and he's nothing like anyone you've ever slept with. You feel out of your element. You get the impression he's a man, a grown one. There's a confidence in him that looms and looms and looms, overshadowing any of your doubt.

He's sexier up close. There's the faintest trace of smile lines on his expression as you look down at him. He guides your arms to loop around your neck, and holds your hips with his hands.

Then you feel it, almost instantly - something hard and bulging pressing against the seam of your pants and against your crotch. He's already half-hard and he hasn't even kissed you. He grins at you lazily, like a cat with cream.

"I'll pass you as soon as I put it in," His hands are so big - long, slender fingers gripping your ass "And give you extra credit when you cum for me. How's that sound?"

You feel dirty. It's all happening so fast. Almost vulgar, but it's impossible to feel cheap. To believe in the wrongness of it when Professor Getou is so undeniably sexy. Wrong, on so many levels, to do this for the sake of your grade. Or just in general. Yet you want it, yearn for it, find the culmination of all your annoyances melting as he graces you himself.

"I wanna pass," You say, uncharacteristically nervous about everything. You add the next part a little quieter "...I want it."

"What do you want, exactly?"

"Want you to fuck me." You admit, against your better judgment "Please?"

"Gonna make a real pretty mess out of you," He says, voice smooth and serene. You look down at him. His knuckles brush against your jaw, on your cheek before his thumb holds on your lower mouth. His fingers push past the edge of your lips, sliding against your tongue and gently running along your teeth. He gags you on it, so slightly - enough to startle you but not enough to hurt. You feel spit pour from your lips.

Thick messy strings of drool drip down the sides of your mouth. You want to back away in shame. But there's an air of intention behind the gesture. It's deliberate, the action - the mess and how it runs down your neck. Before you know it, he's kissing you in that same state.

Professor Getou kisses like he's done it before.

His hands grip on your ass as he kisses hot and heavy. Self-assured, he sucks and bites at your mouth - sticking his tongue in and mixing his saliva with yours in a way that feels downright dirty. Yet it makes you throb, white-hot flames licking at the back of your thighs. The sparks of arousal crawl up your skin.

Your nerves tighten as Professor Getou cups your face with one palm, kissing you with fervor. You melt into him, arms wrapped tightly around his neck.

"Been thinking about what you would look like bent over my desk all semester," He says as he pulls away, looking on with admiration at your messy complexion "You wanna go on ahead and show me?"

Another wave of embarrassment washes over you, but you find yourself standing to your feet. Sliding your sweats off down your legs - your lower half is left bare with the exception of your feet. You lay or stomach on his desk, the cold wood sending chills up your whole body and your stomach and tits lay flat and squishy against the hard material. You stand, shoulder width apart, and present yourself in front of him.

"That's what I like to see," His voice is rich and deep as he speaks. You can feel him inch towards you, pulling you apart with his palms before his hand comes down on your ass in one hard motion. The noise echoes against the walls of the room "See, I knew you could listen well when you had to."

You don't say anything in reply, pressing your cheek against the desk.

"W-what do I call you?" You ask, your voice trembling. You feel his fingers against the seam of your panties. He snaps the cotton waistband against your skin before humming thoughtfully, a light tap to your ass.

"Getou is fine. Suguru is too. Sir if that makes you more comfortable."

Getou makes a show of fondling you, though you can't see it - you can feel the way his eyes nearly swallow your naked lower half. How his fingers touch and prod all of your sensitive places, with some kind of keen observation. Everything Getou says is like that, keen and particular.

"Such a pretty pussy on you. Would've been such a waste if you didn't come to me."

You don't bother to ask what he means by that. Behind you, there's a noise. Of a chair rolling back, and the dull thud of knees hitting the ground. Before you know what's happening, there's a face dangerously close to your clothed pussy. The minute you try to squirm, there's a tight grip keeping you in place. He takes a deep breath. Without any real hesitance, you feel his tongue lick across the clothed material.

In one fell swoop, he pulls your panties to one side and kisses your clit without any more real introduction. You're gripping the edge of the table you're bent over as you feel his tongue slide against the wet folds of your pussy, making your voice cry out involuntarily. Normally people would urge you to be quiet, but you got the feeling he didn't care if anyone heard you crying out for him. You get a second wave of intuition telling you he might even like it.

A sensation of bliss washes over you as he sucks hungrily at your cunt. It feels good enough to be holy. There's such immense expertise in it that you can't help but succumb to it completely. The warm, heavy muscle gliding over sticky folds.

You're so lost in the pleasure, your mind completely blocks out the intrusion. The sense that would detect another person in the room disappears completely. You only know because of Getou, the way he stops and scoffs. It forces you to blink your eyes open. He speaks before you get the chance.

"What are you doing here?"

You recognize the voice instantly, and your heart drops through your stomach.

"Thought I heard a ghost howling," Mr. Fushiguro says, his voice is rougher and deeper and older "Turn out it was just a little girl wanderin' into the woods."

"If you can see I'm busy, why're you still here?"

You can't help but feel the second wave of overwhelming shock as you sit there, naked and unafraid. Still, they stand like nothing is wrong. Chat like they know each other somehow, but you have no idea in which way. All you can focus on is the bubbling, nauseating shame.

"Oh god." You voice, but both others ignore. Mr.Fushiguro speaks first.

"This one is off-limits, Suguru. What kinda professor goes around fuckin' their innocent little students?"

"Just the one, Mr. Fushiguro. And I'd like to get back to business."

"Ah, no way I'm letting you off the hook. I could report this y'know? Make headlines. Ethics professor coerces student into sexual activity. It'd be big.

Your heart drops.

"Fuck off, would you? Does she look coerced?"

A beat of silence. "Nah. Not with the way she's twitchin'. But it's not fun if I just let you go. How about you tap me in and I'll keep your little secret hm? She's gotta cute crush on me already."

Your heart flounces around in your chest, a muffled noise of shock escaping your lips as you squirm to move but are held, still, so firmly in place. Your expression and feelings all go through 5 stages of grief before settling at dumbfounded. They don't especially ask for your input, but you hear Professor Getou behind you.

"Fine, if it'll get you to shut up. And I'm fucking her first."

Strange. Nothing about today makes any sense. You don't miss the almost childish sense of competition in Getou's voice that changes your view of him in an instant. Humanizes him in the strangest and most unrecognizable ways. It lacks his usual virtue.

Mr. Fushiguro walks up in front of you, imposing. He's grinning, a well-worn smile on his face that you know. He helps you up, and you keep yourself upright on your arms as he grabs your chin with his palms. You look up at him wide-eyed, unsure of what to do.

"Dirty fucking girl aren't ya?" He says, though he almost sounds like he's impressed with himself

"You into older men or is it a coincidence you're screwing 'im for your grade?"

You're speechless, and you moan a little pathetically as Getou doesn't stop eating you out. This only seems to make Mr. Fushiguro even more excited. You look up at him through wet lashes, unsure of what to do.

"Don't mind either way, just curious. Guess I'm a little sad 'cause I thought your little heart eyes around me made me special," He tells you this looking down at you, eyes locked. You can tell he's just teasing you, and it makes you twitch "But I guess that's not true, is it?"

"You're different. I uhm. Well it's true at least."

"Yeah? You're just letting both of us fuck you 'cause you're like a bitch 'n heat?"

You flush. He gives you a smile and a well-meaning laugh that makes your body feel warm with heat.

"Mind if we're a little rough on you, sweetheart?"

You shake your head.

"Good. Stick your tongue out and open your mouth for me then."

You listen, oblige the instructions almost obediently. Your face is still covered with spit from before. You watch idly, intently - as Mr. Fushiguro pulls his cock out from his black pants. The loose material covers him well, but as soon as they're down past his thighs - the outline of his cock borders on intrusive. Your eyes widen, fluttering and unfocused because it's hard to think about anything while feeling such intense pleasure.

But Mr. Fushiguro is captivating as he pulls himself out for you. His cock is thick and heavy, protruding but too much that it can't stand up on its own. Weighed down by gravity, you stare at it wide-eyed. It's the size of your forearm, so thick you can't possibly imagine what it feels like.

Your heart stammers.

"It won't fit in my mouth." You say, gasping for air as if you're already suffocating on it "You're—you're so huge."

He laughs with an edge of snark. You blink at him in complete seriousness, taken aback. He lets the tip of his cock tap the plushness of your cheek before pressing against your lips. You stare at him, almost afraid.

"Of course it'll fit," He says in confidence "Just gotta make sure you're relaxed. So relax, sweetheart, and open your mouth for me."

Hesitantly, you open your mouth wide. You feel the corners of your lips stretch around the intrusive, thick head of Mr. Fushiguro's cock. The taste of sweat and skin is invasive and heavy, violating your senses. Just the tip and it barely fits in your mouth. You try and concentrate, sticking your tongue out and curling it around the underneath of his cock, focusing on sucking just the tip. He groans above you, a hand on the back of your head. He doesn't force you down, but you can tell by the twitch in his fingers that he wants to.

"Look at you," He says, his voice coarse with restraint and desire "You're drooling on my cock while you're professors busy eatin' your pussy. Thought you were an innocent girl, but now I don't know what to believe."

He says this as he eases more into your mouth, slowly letting you adjust. He rocks his hips back and forth until you relax. You open yourself up, trying to focus on blowing him.

But a hand comes down on your ass, hard and heavy - making you yelp. The noise is muffled but audible. A short squeal, you can't turn your head to look

"Don't you think you two are getting too comfortable upfront without me? I'm the one who decides your grades."

"Maybe you're not doing good enough for her to care."

You can feel a strange sense of competition between them, but you're too occupied to ask about it. How do they know each other, and for what reason do they seem so automatically hostile? It bothers you, but you can't think about it too hard.

"That's not true. Her pussy is soaking fucking wet." He punctuates his words with a harsh smack against your cunt, the force rippling through your as you bend forward and choke "Almost as messy as her face."

He's quick, again, to latch himself to your clit. He flicks it with his tongue, licking it mercilessly as your brain starts to fog up with desire. Like he's trying to prove a point, you moan around Mr. Fushiguro's cock as your pleasure starts to thrum up again. The back of your legs tense, trembling as a knot begins to uncoil in your lower stomach. The cock in your mouth moves too, using the distracted moans to ease himself even deeper into the wet, arm cavern of your mouth.

Your head feels heavy, body weak as the both of them use you to their contents. Your stomach starts to stir as a familiar feeling of euphoria claws at you.

You cum for the first time like that, your body pressed against a wood desk - restrained and under careful watch of two men. Your whole body explodes - white, hot nerves fraying off and ricocheting off your ribs inside of you. Your insides shake as the wave of an orgasm washes over your entire body. You gasp, clenching down hard and gasping as tremors of orgasm pulse and push through your whole body. Something in you ignites as you grip the edge of the desk for your life, trying to keep yourself upright as Getou pushes you through the orgasm.

You've barely recovered when Mr. Fushiguros pulls out of your mouth, pressing his spit-soaked cock against your face and cheeks with a smile. You let it slide against your tongue, eyes fluttering open as your face gets covered in precum and saliva.

"You look so fucking filthy right now, you know that? But it looks good on you. I'm dying to fuck you."

"Mr. Fushiguro," You groan. He clicks his teeth.

"Toji's just fine sweetheart."

You whimper helplessly as you ride out your high. Behind you, your professor pulls away. You peek behind you to see him, flush as he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.

Toji looks down at your frazzled expression with a grin, teeth showing as he cups your jaw a second time and slides his cock back in one go. This time, he pushes his cock in the base - keeping your throat around him with a hand on the back of your head.

"Just focus on me for now, baby. Focus on sucking me off, yeah? Just like that, easy easy. He's gonna open you up. Stretch you nice and make your pussy all sloppy. That's what you want right?"

Getou leans over you, the weight of his body looming as you feel slender fingers slide through your sticky folds. His middle and index brush against your abused clit, rubbing a few circles into it before pulling away. He grabs your arms and positions them behind your back, gripping them in one hand to keep you restrained. You squirm against the gesture, unable to get any leeway as he holds you down. Then you feel his fingers move, middle finger catching on your wet hole as it trembles and sticks. He opens you up like this without any warning.

His middle finger goes first - delicately intrusive as your pussy widens to accommodate him. They're so much bigger than yours. Just one feels like two of your own. You push back out of instinct but Getou doesn't let you move. He buries himself, pushing in and out until he's able to fuck your pussy all the way down to the knuckle. Once there's no longer any resistance, he pulls back and makes room for another. The sensation is duller, lets you clear your head and think even as Toji rubs his cock on your face and fucks your mouth in short ruts.

Not enough to make you choke, but enough to smear something hot and nasty all over you.

Professor Getou repeats the process with his pointer, pushing and stretching and opening until you can't fight it anymore. With two fingers, he scissors them trying to make your insides soft enough for him to take you.

"You're stretching out for me like it's nothing. You must be turned on, hm? Like getting all your holes used like this? Getting your face-fucked by a man old enough to be your father?"

Toji laughs harshly, smacking your face lightly, enough it doesn't hurt but enough to make you feel it.

"She loves it. She's clenching down on you tight ain't she?"

"Sure is. All this for a grade. Maybe I should've bullied you about it a little more first. Since you're so eager."

"Gonna give her extra credit for this?"

"I should deduct points for the fact you're even near here."

He laughs good-naturedly at this point, and you're still having trouble making sense of their relationship. You manage to speak for the first time in forever, voice barely there as you go to question them. You're not expecting any solid answers.

"How do you two know each other?" You ask, before Toji starts fucking your mouth again

"Goes a long way back. And we're still on bad terms, so congrats on bringing us together, sweetheart. Kind of an expected reunion really."

"He's been working here since Professor Gojo and I were students here and we knew him from before. A long story. Don't worry your pretty little head about it."

The burning question is quick to fade out of your mind as you feel your professor's clothed bulge rest against your cunt. You moan, a clipped needy sound as you nearly beg him to fuck you. Toji bends over you this time, reaching back to spread your pussy open by grabbing your ass. You can feel the grip of his hands, strong and assured.

"She's gettin' impatient. Give it to her."

"Don't need your help with that." Getou spits, irritation sounding in his words.

"Consider it an apology."

The air of tension is there temporarily, before Getou pulls his cock from the confines of his boxers. You can't see it, eyes squeezed tight as you work your mouth and tongue Toji's length. You can feel it though. He makes a show of rubbing his cock against your puffy, sore cunt. You get a feel for its shape as he pushes it between your thighs and lets it cling in between your lips. Professor Getou's cock is longer and more narrow, but it curves upright. It's hard, throbbing between your legs. Whining helplessly you wiggle your ass again. You feel increasingly restless about needing something inside of you. You're still bound though, completely and utterly unable to move. Toji's hand comes down heavy on your ass as you do, clicking his teeth in faux irritation.

"Don't fucking move unless you want my handmark on your ass forever," He says, his voice cool and forgiving "Impatient."

Getou must feel something inside of him merciful enough to keep you waiting. Even with all the stretching and prep, the minute you feel the head of your cock push through - something inside of you snaps. It's still so big, still too much, still reaches a part of you so deep you didn't know it was there. The position itself - still being on your stomach, makes it reach so much farther than other positions. The raw, skin-to-skin contact leaves your tummy fluttering, skin prickling with heat. Your top is pushed up enough to expose your lower back and your skin is pulsing. You feel like your whole body is on fire, suspended between men so much older than that want nothing more than to fuck you.

Every time you try to wiggle away from the sensations, Toji's hand comes down heavy on your backside. It doesn't matter how minuscule the movement. If he gets the idea that you're going to try and pull away, he spanks you hard enough that the room echoes with the sound. Your skin tingles, phantom sensation left before as you're held open and made to take your professor's cock - obedient and wanting.

Inch by miserable inch, it takes forever to take him down to the base. Your toes curl, eyes shut and mouth sloppily trying to keep up with the cock in your mouth and just barely succeeding.

He groans behind you, shuddering

"That's incredible," He praises, and it feels so good to hear him saying something so overtly kind you don't know if you want to laugh or cry "Your pussy is fucking incredible. Shit."

"You hear that? You gotta. Pussy's twitchin' like crazy. Ass is too, how cute."

"Feels sho good," You slur, brain clear of any and all rational thought as a string of saliva drips down your chin "Please fuck me, please,"

"You heard her teach."

Toji lets go of you and returns back to where you are. He pulls his cock away from you, instead holding you up and cupping your mouth open. He kisses you, after everything - with all of his pre-spend in your mouth before spitting into it harshly and kissing it again.

"Such a pretty face you're makin' right now." He says, something of a warm and unprecedented affection to it "So excited to get your pussy filled up."

He leans you on him, lets you wrap around his midriff, and squeeze tight while he pets the back of your hair in a strange streak of affection. You don't know what to make of anything. All you can feel is the long cock pounding into you without any mercy. Razor-sharp thrusts, nudging against your swollen g-spot and pounding into your cunt with immeasurable force. A man so much older than you is fucking you, pounding your pretty little pussy, and turning you into a complete mess. He's meant to be a mentor to you, but he has his cock imprinting itself inside of you over and over and over.

Your stomach feels hot again, but some other feeling takes you over as Toji cradles you - watching you just as intently. He talks you through with confidence you can't entirely understand.

"Yeah, that's it. Tighten up for him, just like that. Feels good doesn't it? I know baby, I know."

You whine out in Toji's arms as he talks you through it. Behind you, you feel Getou's grip hold you tight as he pistons you. The sound of his thighs smacking against your ass is noisy, almost as noisy as your pussy. Slick wet, sounding each time he thrusts.

"I'm not gonna last like this, shit." He pumps into you a few more types before his hips stutter to a halt. He cums with his cock buried deep inside of you, filling you all the way to the brim. You feel his white, hot seed fill your belly, cock twitching as he unloads and makes your legs shake.

A sense of emptiness overwhelms you as Getou pulls out, landing a hit on your ass as he shakes. He kisses your spine.

The two of them switch places without communicating with each other about it. Getou pulls out, and away - coming back in front of you and picking you up in his arms as Toji positions himself behind you. He spreads your cunt out with his fingers, examining the seed left over with a light laugh.

"Gonna fuck into your sloppy little cunt, give you another load where you need it and make you cum." Toji says, not hesitating at all. You feel your breathing start to quicken as he takes the same positions as before.

Toji doesn't neglect touching you as his arm curls around your waist, calloused fingertips brushing against your clit before his cock pushes into you. Your pussy takes him much easier, but even so - Toji is just so thick, you can't help but feel him all over again. This time, Getou has you in his arms, holding and guiding you. Your hands are curled around his bicep and lower spine as you're held up.

Toji's thrusts are slower, but just as rhythmic - focused on bringing you to another orgasm. It's duller this time, the sensation more focused and spread. Toji is so big you feel it in your hips, your entire lower half tingling as he pumps his cock in and out of you. He gives you all of his attention, staving off his own orgasm as Getou encourages you with his own words.

"Gonna cum again, pretty? Take another man's cum in you right after me? You want to, right? Take it all in, every drop. You've earned it."

You feel your insides tighten again, for a second time - in a miraculous span. Every muscle in your body tenses and contracts as both sensations work in tandem to bring you closer to your edge.

Your nerves fire off a second time as you push yourself to the limit. Toji fucks you through another orgasm with ease, thrusting with each tremor until you've ridden out your high. His own orgasm and chase come not long after that fact.

As soon as you've gone totally limp underneath him, he sheaths himself as deep as he can. Bent over you, he cums hard and deep, filling you to the brim a second time.

There's a brief moment of silence as Toji rides out his high, where all three of you sit in silence.

You find yourself limp as you lay there, Toji pulling out and Getou slowly letting you down before you look up with a tired expression.

"...So, did I pass?"

Your professor laughs harder than you've ever seen him laugh.

"With flying colors."

#toji x reader #getou x reader #toji smut #getou smut #writing tag #jjk x reader #dubcon cw #age gaps cw #blackmail cw #coercion cw #lmk if i missed anything

2K notes · View notes

deadsetobsessions · 3 months

Text

Jason cursed. This is on par for most of his evenings, as it was rare that he ever got a peaceful night. However, this? This takes the goddamn cake and smashes it on his face.

Red Hood stood, with a portable wet vacuum in his halo bed hands, cursing everything in the world as he cleaned and followed the small puddles of Lazarus water. The people in the streets give him a wide berth, having long learned the intricacies of Red101: if the Red Hood is doing weird shit but there’s no gun in his hand, you make sure you’re not the reason he’ll have a gun in his hand.

“O, you there?”

“Copy.”

“Mark this priority, would you?” His voice is tense, pissed. “Some bastard’s dripping Lazarus water all over my territory.”

A pause.

Oracle’s calm voice flowed through his helmet, “Then we’ll have to watch out for League influence. I’ll let the others know. Red Robin?”

Red Robin chimed in, “Yeah, already on it. It’s weird though, Ra’s isn’t supposed to be here for another two and a half weeks.”

“And how would you know about my grandfather’s movements?”

“Careful, Robin, I might become your grandma!” Red Robin chirped sadistically, before clicking off his comms, snickering at Robin’s spluttering.

“Jesus fuck. I’ll try to hunt down the bastard from the ground. O?”

“Can’t help you. The cameras around your area has been scrambled for the last half an hour.”

“Shit.” Red Hood tensed, one hand going for his pistol as the street’s current inhabitants wisely vacated the area.

“Hood. Don’t go in alone. It could be a trap.”

“Whatever, B, you’re not the boss of me.”

“Give me three minutes. I’m close by. Do not go in without back up, little wing.” Nightwing piped in, and Red Hood could hear the faint whooshing noises of a quiet grapple.

“Cass and I are close by as well. Staking out a place but we could be on standby if needed.”

Two taps. Cass’ tacit agreement.

“Got it.”

When Nightwing gets there, they follow the trail into a dead end with no sign of any scaling of the wall or secret passages.

“Fuck! What the fuck are we chasing, a ghost?”

“Don’t even joke like that-” Nightwing said. “You’ll set Red off again.”

Jason kicked at the wall.

“Fuck!”

——

On the other side of the wall, thirty minutes earlier:

“Life is like a hurricane, here in Duckberg…” Danny mumbled as he stumbled away. He’d saved his alley kids from a pretty serious mugging that ended with a stabbing that Danny foolishly allowed to touch him because he wanted to keep the wicked looking knife. Normally, he’d be able to brush this off, but with his recent injuries, mental stress, and the lack of food that is the hallmark of a homeless teenager, Danny barely kept himself conscious as he stumbled into a particularly dense in ectoplasm dead end.

“Napping place… napping place…” Danny mumbled before eyeing the brick wall. Yeah, okay, he’s slept in weirder places. He could sleep in the dumpster, but… he’d smell and Danny could not handle an infection. So, he went intangible, invisible, and pulled the knife out of his body. As he settled in (quite literally into) the stone wall for his nap, Danny manages to mold his ectoplasm to hold his cut up stomach together.

Danny allows sleep to take him, blissfully unaware of the glowing green puddles of ghost blood he’d left behind.

——

Jason, terrified: he’s in the walls!! He’s in the fucking walls!

Danny, quoting vines and tiktoks while napping in walls for that back support option: thanks for checking in! I’m still a piece of GaRBaGe.

#batman #danny phantom #dc x dp #bruce wayne #tim drake #jason todd #dick grayson #red hood #nightwing #bamf danny phantom #spoiler #cassandra cain #black bat #Stephanie brown #Oracle #barbara gordon #ghost blood=cleaner Lazarus pit water #red hood looking like a single mother as he walks down the street with a vacuum.

916 notes · View notes

drabblesandimagines · 29 days

Text

Cramped

Inspired by @creativepromptsforwriting prompt 1080! "I can't stop thinking about kissing you." "And what are you going to do about that?" Leon Kennedy x gn reader

“I can’t do this.” Leon mutters under his breath, but you hear it as clear as day from your position.

How could you not, seeing as you’re currently only an inch away from his chest, his head nearly resting atop your own?

You’ve been trapped in this tiny storage cupboard for at least 20 minutes now, waiting for Hunnigan to give the all-clear that all 27 heat signals had dispersed from outside your current location. You would describe yourself as a relatively decent shot, Leon more so, but the numbers weren’t in your favour.

“Claustrophobic?” You whisper back, cautious that your voice may carry. You wish you could shift your left foot ever so slightly, currently standing awkwardly over a bucket that was sat at the bottom at the cupboard when you entered.

“No.” He has his hands braced either side of you against the opposite wall, seemingly caging you in more than the cupboard is. Your arms awkwardly hung by your side, painfully aware of how if you moved even slightly forward you’d be pressing your front into his chest, fingers ghosting against his hips.

“I can’t do this.” Leon says again. “Missions - with you.”

“Oh, come on,” you wish you could step back so you could give him a proper withering stare. “You can’t blame me every time something goes wrong. The intel definitely said only five guards were on site at any one time.”

“No. I mean, I…” He’d rub the bridge of his nose if he could bring his arm forward to do it without hitting you in the process. “I can’t concentrate.” You scoff, immediately defensive. “And how is that my fault?” “Because I can’t stop thinking about kissing you!” Silence. “Oh.” “Yes, oh.” He mocks, frustrated. He's meant to be better than this. Hell, he usually is when the two of you are paired up. Leon’s flirty, sure, but he knows to be professional when it’s a matter of life and death, and trapped in a cupboard with a number of hostiles outside is definitely a time when he should be at his most focused. But ever since the two of you retreated in here, all he can think about is how close you are, how good you smell, the warmth of your body pressed up against his, how he could place his fingers under your chin, tilt your head up… “Well, what are you going to do about it?”

“Sorry?” He looks down at you in disbelief, sure he’s misheard. “I said,” you lift your hand and trail your fingers up his chest before you rest it just above his pounding heart and meet those soft blue eyes. “What are you going to do about it?”

He doesn’t need a third invitation, dropping his hands from the wall. One arm wraps around your waist, bringing you needlessly forward that final inch, your left thigh finding its way between his in lieu of anywhere else to go. His other hands grabs the back of your head and tilts it up to meet his lips, stealing your breath with a deep, frantic kiss... Hunnigan smiles to herself as she leans back in her chair at HQ, your voices falling silent on the comms in what she suspects is the result of other activity – Leon had left the channel open when you'd been forced to find cover. It’s only when she hears Kennedy let out a muffled moan that she taps to disconnect the audio, her suspicions now well and truly confirmed. The computer screen in front of her shows a blueprint of the factory, where two red dots reside in the small storage cupboard she’d directed them to after she’d ‘alerted’ them to the unwelcome company. She still needs to work out how to explain the sudden disappearance of 27 hostiles, but it’s worth it so she won’t be forced to watch the two of you dance awkwardly around each other in the office anymore.

--- This is probably the closest to a drabble I've ever gotten despite my blog name, ha! Masterlist . Requests welcome . Commissions/Ko-Fi

PS: Thanks to @porcelainseashore for helping me clarify the ending <3

#ghostdogwrites #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy fluff

656 notes · View notes

lunarw0rks · 9 months

Note

Hiiiii❤️ I idk if this is a Drabble or a headcaon but here I go anyways😅 . Hear some context So you don’t think I’m some weirdo. So in the 2017 movie called the babysitter and this character Allison got shot in the b00b and she “omg he shot me in the b00b what kind of dçk shots a girl in the b00bs” (funny scene) so basically fem!reader with platonic!taskforce141. And there on a mission and suddenly they hear the same line on their coms and they’re like 😳

(feel free to ignore)

A/N: LMAO - I had to look up the scene for this as a reference. Just picturing Price's paternal disappointment when he realizes his team acts like a bunch of children. Sorry, this is rlly short!

Summary: Your attempt at comedic relief sets off a chain reaction of immaturity.

Warning(s): platonic!141, canon-typical mild injury, suggestive language, AFAB!Reader, no use of y/n

Word Count: 554

꒦꒷ MAIN MASTERLIST ꒷꒦ 141 MASTERLIST // have a request? ⋆ ⚘ 🕊 ˚✧ ₊˚ʚ ao3 ver. | PART TWO

No Filter // 141 Drabble

Compared to some of the other operations you’d done with them, this was a piece of cake. A simple infiltrate and exfil mission where you’d be clearing house in one of Hassan’s safehouses—a mere breadcrumb leading to the man himself.

Price thought it would go smoothest if everyone split up, but to keep within shouting distance. It was only a small facility, after all.

Being ambushed? Shot? That was not something you saw in the cards for today.

Luckily, you got a bullet in him before he had a chance to do worse. But here you were, slumped against the wall with all the air knocked out of your lungs.

“Heard the shots, Sergeant. You broken?”

Captain Price’s voice crackled through near instantly, the second he had pulled the trigger on you. Though it took a few seconds, you managed to recuperate, and asses the room in front of you. The man who shot you K.I.A, and you very fortunate.

You peered down at your chest; indeed not broken, but injured. The vest had absorbed the shot, causing a relieved sigh to escape your lips. Obviously, if you really had a bullet in your chest, you wouldn’t just be sitting there—but the adrenaline of escaping death eliminated any rationality.

You unbuttoned the first few buttons on your shirt, seeing a welt on your breast as if the man had his gaze set on them when he pulled the trigger. Still, with your hand on the button of your radio, you finally gave some sort of answer.

“Bastard shot me in the boobs.” It was a mumble, but there was no way in hell they didn’t hear that.

As you winced, you seemed to forget that the entire team was on the other line—probably way more concerned with your life than the health of your tits. “What kind of dick shoots a girl in the boobs?” You asked rhetorically, despite the astonished silence on the other line.

“You were shot in your…?” Gaz was the first to speak up, his tone practically painting the picture of his signature squint.

Before the next voice chimed in, you could swear you heard whoever it was stifling a laugh. “Thanks for that.” Soap chimed in, accent crackling against the static. His smirk was visible even if his words; the natural flirt in him coming out no matter what.

Ghost had remained silent, probably muting his comms so he didn’t have to listen to this. And Price? Oh, Price… He’s got his head in his hands with pure disappointment. How did this status update turn so unprofessional, so quickly?

“Wait, let me get this straight,” Soap comes in again, a smug sneer on his face. “He shot you on the—”

“Keep it tactical, Sergeant.” Price blurts, interrupting the immature banter daring to be further set in motion. He was fighting every urge to crack a smile at the pure ridiculousness, but his poker face and stern tone prevented it.

“Tactical or not, John, it’s a tough break.” Laswell comes in, your only saving grace against Price’s father-like disappointment. She was the last superior of yours you’d expected to find it humorous, but she did, nonetheless.

This would definitely be the source material for the next HR meeting, you could see it now.

#mw2 #mw2 fanfic #call of duty #simon riley #task force 141 #ghost mw2 #task force 141 x reader #task force 141 x y/n #captain john price #john price #kate laswell #kyle gaz garrick #soap mctavish

1K notes · View notes

praisethegabs · 4 months

Text

HATE THAT I LOVE YOU

leon kennedy x f!reader

synopsis: Leon can't stand seeing you around him. You know how much he hates you and you like having fun with it. Things get worse when the two of you get lost during one mission, with no comms to call for help. Leon blames you for everything, until he revels something he shouldn't.

warnings: ENEMIES TO LOVERS. descriptions of injuries, reader taking care of leon, comfort, fake marriage, descriptions of nudity, leon drunk and and reader teasing him. small reference to call of duty characters as part of reader backstory.

word count: 10k +

a/n: heavily inspired by "death of me" by wizthemc. cover from laughingwallaby on x/twitter. it isn't necessary to listen to the song, but I highly recommend it.

"he’d set fire to the world around him but never let a flame touch her" senlinyu

Leon Kennedy hates you more than anything else in this world.

He hated the fact he was obligated to be your partner, hated the reckless way you always managed to finish a mission practically intact, and hated the way you always succeeded in something, no matter what it was. He hates you entirely, even your perfume is enough to get him on his nerves.

He hates you ten times more because he knows you know he hates you, and you seem like you don't care about it at all.

It all started three years ago, when he discovered he would be your new partner. Your name was pretty famous, and so were you. Not that he envies your success, but he never thought he would be under the shadow of someone like you. At first, Leon was very impressed with your skills and the way you work, but two weeks later, he started to despise you, and this feeling turned into hatred.

You ain’t stupid, you can even feel all the hate he has towards you, and things get better because you have this masochist side of yours that makes you feel happy seeing how angry he can be at you.

Although you don’t care about the reasons he hates you, the thing is, you can’t deny how attractive Leon can be, and having him as your partner makes every other agent jealous of how lucky you are. It’s Agent Kennedy, the one and only. The guy who rescued the president's daughter and basically did other significant things for the government.

But, despite the Leon you know at work, his entire life is a blank page. You know absolutely nothing about him, and he doesn’t care about sharing his personal life details with someone he hates. You noticed a while ago that you are the only person Leon ignores and despises completely, and he avoids talking to you as much as he can, only when it is necessary. And when he opens that pretty mouth of his, it usually contains hateful words.

At this point, you just do your job the way you see fit and come back home safely, not caring about Leon’s arrogant ass.

“You could have killed us!” Leon snaps at you, his entire demeanor showing stress. He can’t avoid grabbing you by your arm and squeezing it tightly, which makes you groan.

“Well, golden boy, at least your ass is intact and here. I’d like to hear a nice ‘thank you’, how about it?” You smirk and tilt your head, and in response, his entire face turns red with anger.

“You’re so fucking immature. Do you think you’ll be lucky for the rest of your life?” He raised his voice, his hand on your arm getting tighter by the second. The expression on your lips didn’t make things easier. “One day, you won’t be that lucky, and you’ll probably drop dead somewhere. I won’t be there to pick up your pieces. Do you want to risk your life? Go ahead, I don’t fucking care, but don’t drag me into your bullshit again. I’m your partner, not your babysitter”

“I’m really surprised you consider me your partner, Kennedy,” you smirk again, and that smirk was enough to infuriate Leon more than he already was.

Leon was on the verge of yelling at you, but the cold expression that quickly went up on his face was enough to make your smirk disappear. You have never seen him like that, it was weird.

“Maybe I should change that,” he hissed with cold and dead eyes, finally letting go of your arm.

“Good luck with that, Kennedy,” you coo, crossing your arms over your chest as you speak.

After saying that, the smile you gave him was enough to make Leon livid. He wanted so badly to take that ironic smile off of your lips, he wished that right now you were a man, so he could definitely teach you a lesson you wouldn’t forget so soon. However, you are the same annoying opposite gender that he hates so much. So, instead of beating the living shit out of you, he just watched you leave, turning in the opposite direction to calm himself down before he did something stupid.

The last mission was very simple: locate and terminate a bioweapon. As you two went there to find the said bioweapon, the entire area was drowning in chaos. The area was isolated to prevent the bioweapon from running away, and alongside you and Leon, there was the entire squad ready to follow your lead.

It should be simple, right? Here's the part where Leon thinks you're completely reckless. Instead of following the standard protocol, you thought it would be best to use yourself as bait and literally explode the entire block. Your stupid plan really worked, and the bioweapon died in the explosion; luckily, you were left with a few scratches and a bleeding ear — which the doctor said wasn't something serious, although you would be “deaf” for a few days from your right side.

So, when you got home, the first thing you actually did was take a nap, which turned out to be deeper than you expected. You slept for twelve hours with your phone in airplane mode so that no one could disturb your sleep. The only thing you weren't counting on was waking up to the distant sounds of someone practically wanting to take your door down. Wearing your cat pajamas, your hair a complete mess, and your face swollen after so many hours sleeping, the last person you thought you would see was Leon.

And he was right there.

“Do you know I’m out of the clock at the moment, right?” you asked him, with a big yawn seconds later. His face wasn't one of the most friendly you've seen.

“Yeah? Do you think I’m here because I want it?” Leon rolls his eyes, sounding annoyed and bored.

“Well, golden boy, if you’re here to yell at me about what happened earlier, I suggest you wait until tomorrow. I’m definitely not in the mood for you,” you said, already closing the door, when Leon suddenly stopped you. “I always thought you were a weirdo, now I’m sure of it. What do you want?”

“Get ready for our new assignment. And try to dress in something more... elegant.” Leon gave you the file from the next mission. Surprised, you started to read the file, and out of nowhere, you started to laugh in disbelief.

“Recently married couple on their honeymoon? Is this some kind of sick joke?” You glanced at him, still laughing nervously at your new disguise with him.

“Trust me, I asked the same question, and unfortunately, that's our new disguise. So, get your ass ready. We’ll be leaving in three hours, Ms. Kennedy,” he said with his Stoic and cold expression as always, giving you a ring made of white gold, which made you think how expensive it was.

“I’m pretty sure our agency wouldn’t give us this type of accessory,” you said to him, taking a good look at the ring he gave you. White gold, with a beautiful sapphire and diamonds carved around the blue stone.

“Don’t be late,” Leon said, ignoring your last commentary. “I’ll be waiting at the airport”

Leon left without looking at your confused expression. You had to read the file at least three times until you finally understood the mission. Leon and you were going to pose as a recently married couple enjoying their honeymoon as you two investigate a famous billionaire that made its own wealth by selling bioweapons in the market. You sighed with the sudden stress, walking towards your room to prepare your bag. After finishing your bag, you caught yourself glancing again at the ring. You were sure the agency wouldn’t give this ring to Leon for a fake marriage. It was something else, but what?

So, one hour later, you drove to the airport. At least this time, you weren’t late, and Leon wouldn’t be making a scene over it. You found him distracted, wearing sunglasses with his leather jacket, his hair shining in the sunlight. Leon seemed very focused on the book he was reading, and it was a big surprise to see him like that, especially because you knew nothing about him.

“So, dear husband, are you ready to go?” you ask, seeing him put his book aside. He looked very beautiful with those sunglasses.

“Yeah, sure.” He nodded, his voice sounding calm instead of the coldness you were used to. You noticed he was wearing his own wedding ring.

“Will you tell me where these came from?” You started to walk next to him, referring yourself to the ring he gave you, hoping it would be a real answer.

“Why do you care? It’s just a ring,” Leon replied, avoiding the subject as much as he could.

“I don’t think it’s just a ring. It has some marks on it, like it was used before.” The egocentric smile on your lips made Leon take a deep breath.

“It was from my mother, okay? It’s the last thing I had from her and my dad before they died. Satisfied?” Leon harshly replied to you, and you knew you had screwed up. You didn’t know about his family, and the way he replied made you realize it was a hard subject.

“I’m sorry, Leon. I didn’t know,” you hissed, feeling your entire face burn with shame.

“Like you care,” he replied in a cold tone, walking away from you towards the airport.

The rest of the flight was absolute silence. Leon didn’t speak with you and had no intention to do so. You felt terrible, but you decided not to show him any feelings; the guy literally hated you, and showing how you felt was the last thing he would believe. So, thinking about all the years of free hate, you decided it was for the best to pretend you didn’t care.

Naturally, pretending that everything was fine was one of your best qualities. You were so good at hiding your own feelings that no one could read you or decipher your emotions.

At the hotel, hours later, you were ready to follow Leon and finish the job. Deep down, you were expecting his coldness and his famous Stoic expression, along with his grumpy humor. However, you were caught off guard when he suddenly took your bags and smiled at you. He was, indeed, a full mystery.

“C’mon, darling. I’ll take your bags for you.” When he said that, you noticed the “recently married couple” game was on. You glance at him and smile broadly, then kiss his cheek.

“Oh, babe, you’re so sweet to me. Thank you,” you said, giving him your bag and walking in front of him like you were some kind of model. Two people could play this game, right?

After the check-in, you two walked between fake laughs until you reached the master bedroom. Leon could pay, and so could you, but you decided to let him play along since it was his mission, and you were just his annoying partner.

“Such a cliché… having one bed,” you sighed at the sight of the master bed in the center of the room.

“We’re married, it should look like that.” Leon rolled his eyes, leaving your bag close to the bed as he analyzed the entire room.

“No, we’re not married. We’re pretending to be,” you said, sitting on the edge of the bed and smirking ironically at him. “And besides, why me? You said you wanted to leave. You could have asked for any other agent”

“Who said I didn't ask?” Leon replied with the same ironic smirk on his lips, sitting on the armchair in front of you.

“And what did they say?” Suddenly, you sounded more upset than your usual sarcastic demeanor. You hope Leon didn’t notice.

“Unfortunately, they can’t give me another partner. Guess I’m stuck with you for God knows how long” He sounded annoyed for a moment, but you chose to ignore it completely.

You decided you needed a bath. You took a few clothes from your bag and decided to “play” with him. Not only that, but you removed your clothes in front of him, sensually, trying to get some reaction from him. When you glanced at Leon, he was hard.

“What are you doing?” he asked, and you noticed he was breathing heavily. Now he was nervous, and it wasn't anger.

“We are married. I guess this is what wives do in front of their husbands.” You wink at him, making your way to the bathroom wearing nothing but your lingerie.

Leon was completely speechless. You could see him swallowing harder, his Adam’s apple going up and down faster. The devilish smile on your lips didn’t make things easier for him, either. It took a lot of strength from him to look anywhere else but you. Leon was clearly uncomfortable and nervous.

“You know, if you want this mission to succeed, you must pretend you don’t hate me. And for that, you need to trust me, Kennedy. I know you despise my methods, and I know you’re anxious to get rid of me, and honestly, I don’t really give a shit about your teenage behavior,” you said from the bathroom, wrapping your now naked body around a white towel and opening the door again so you could see him. “So, I promise I’ll try my best to not screw everything up. Just try not to act like the asshole you are usually whenever you’re with me”

“Oh, I’m the asshole now.” Leon finally seemed to wake up from his own trance, and his expression suddenly changed from Stoic to aggressive. "You've acted like a complete jerk since the first day we started to work together, and according to you, I’m the asshole here? You should look at yourself in the mirror, sweetheart”

“Then why did you stay here with me this entire time? You could have split a long time ago, golden boy,” you say, crossing your arms in your chest, not intimidated by his behavior.

“I told you. They won’t put me with another agent. I’m stuck with you, and trust me, I wish I could have left a very long time ago,” Leon replied coldly, his blue eyes almost icy with the way he was staring at you.

But instead of your silence, you caught him off guard.

“I know you’re lying. If you snap your fingers, they will do everything you want. You just have to ask, since you’re their golden boy. They freaking love you, Kennedy, and there’s nothing they wouldn't do to please you. Don’t bullshit me,” you said, walking slowly towards him and hissing, your eyes shining with sarcasm.

But Leon didn’t give you an answer. Instead, he took his leather jacket and left the room without saying something. You decided to calm yourself down and go straight for a bath, enjoying the candles and their arousal. After what seemed to be a long time in the tub, you left the tub and wrapped the towel around your body; the room was still empty, and you couldn't care less about Leon. If he wanted to act like a pampered kid, that was his problem, not yours.

You enjoyed the time alone to do your skin care routine, and decided to take care of your own body as well. It was almost eight when the phone inside your room started to ring.

“Ms. Kennedy, I’m sorry to interrupt, but your husband seems to be causing quite a scene in the hotel bar. I might have to ask you to pick him up; otherwise, I’ll have to ask security to take care of him,” the person on the other side says to you, and immediately, you sighed.

“I’m sorry for the inconvenience, I’ll go get him right now. Thank you,” you said, forcing the most sweet tone of voice you could at the moment.

You left the room thinking about ending Leon. He could definitely jeopardize the entire mission with his behavior, and this was unacceptable. When you found him in the bar, he was, indeed, causing a big scene. Leon was screaming and scaring the rest of the guests, and there were at least three security guards next to him.

“Leon, darling, come on. You've had enough,” you said, approaching him and touching his shoulder softly.

“Are you his wife?” one of the security guards asks you with a serious expression. You couldn’t blame the man, he was only doing his job.

“Yes, and I am really sorry for my husband. I guess he’s just too carried away…” you said with the calmest tone of voice you could, trying your best to hold him tight.

“Ma’am, you need to control him. He made a lot of mess in the bar.” The other looked severely at you, with an angry expression.

“I’m here, aren’t I? Don’t worry about the trouble, we can pay for the inconvenience,” you replied in a harsh tone. Suddenly, Leon threw up, and his vomit fell on the floor. “And we can pay for that too”

“Suck on that, fuckers!” Leon smiled before you dragged him back to your room.

In the silence of the hallway, Leon had a lot of difficulty walking properly. He was stumbling on his feet and saying incoherent things in your ear. You never saw him like that, and it was pretty weird being his babysitter. You wanted to kill him, but he couldn’t even stand, and possibly wouldn’t remember a thing the next day.

“I hate you,” you muttered, dragging him across the hallway towards your room.

“Why do you hate me?” Leon asks, his mouth smelling of alcohol and his words confused. “Am I not good enough?”

“Where is this coming from?” You raised both of your eyebrows in visible confusion. Finally, you reached the room and unlocked the door, dragging Leon into the bathroom.

“I tried… to be enough… I know I’m an asshole, but… I’m scared of being hurt again, and… I push people away from me… but you’re so different…” he says between drunken hiccups, which is almost funny, but completely unexpected. “I've liked you since the first time I saw you, and… and…” Leon throws up again in the toilet, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath, before looking at you again. You were completely speechless.

“I think you need a bath,” you muttered, still shocked by his words. Your hands were shaking, and for a moment, you had no idea what you should do.

“No… I… I need to finish this because I don’t know when I’ll have the balls to do so again…” Leon grabs you tightly, not wanting to let go of you. Biting your lower lip, you nodded. “I know I said I hate you, but… but that’s not true. I only did that because… because I was scared and thought you would reject me… so I started to act like an asshole… I’m so sorry”

“It’s okay… I should be sorry too, I didn’t make things easier for you since day one” you said to him, sounding more kind than you usually are. He won’t remember this conversation, you are sure of it.

“I feel complete trash… I should’ve just… asked you instead of acting like an asshole…” Leon said this between other rounds of drunken hiccups. He’s pretty wasted.

And before this conversation could end in another way, you decided to give him a cold bath. You didn’t remove his clothes, and he complained a lot when he felt the cold water on him. After that, you had to change his clothes, and when Leon saw you touching him, he turned hard again, although he was too drunk to even be ashamed. You had trouble laying him on the bed, but he didn’t struggle against you.

“I love you,” he whispers before falling asleep.

The next morning, you decided to leave Leon alone for a while. You couldn’t explain to him what happened the night before because you were too shocked to say something. “I love you,” he said, and his words made a home in your head. How was that even possible?

Leon Kennedy, the guy who hated you with his entire being, said he loved you. He was drunk, and he probably didn’t mean any of those words. Maybe he was just playing a game with you, maybe that wasn’t true. However… drunk people tend to say things they usually wouldn’t say. So, there was a remote possibility that he was, indeed, telling the truth. How could you believe him?

“Fuck… what happened?” Leon asks you when he woke up, squeezing his eyes. He had a terrible headache.

“You got drunk last night and caused a lot of trouble in the bar,” you said, throwing at him a small, transparent bag with painkillers.

“Shit, I can’t remember anything. My head hurts like crazy.” Leon looks at you, and you can see the effects of the hangover on his face.

“Glad one of us has commitment to the job,” you said, sounding harsher than you wanted to be. Leon looks at you again, but completely confused this time.

“What did I say?” he asks, and then, as you can notice, he sounds more desperate. If it were at another time, you would definitely take advantage of it, but his words echoed in your head again.

“Nothing important. Just regular drunk stuff,” you say, shaking your shoulders, avoiding the subject that was hammering your head.

"Fine.” He nods his head and stands up, walking to the bathroom.

His words were floating in your head, and it was hard not to think about what happened the other night. At this point, you had no idea how you would finish the mission. Not with his words hammering in your head, penetrating your chest, and making you feel things you really don’t want to.

You hate Leon Kennedy and everything he made you feel.

He comes out of the bathroom, and he has a towel wrapped around his waist. The sight you had of him, all muscular, his body sculpted by the gods, walking like that in his own glory. It made your stomach twitch. You felt your face burning, and right now, you wanted to dissipate from the earth.

“We have a meeting in one hour.” You had to find a lot of strength inside you to not stare at his chest when you spoke to him.

“Can you go alone? I’m not really in perfect condition.” Leon sits on the bed, looking at you. He seems to not realize what’s happening. You, in response, shake your head.

“No, I can’t. Since we’re married, you need to come with me. It sucks, huh?” you replied with a cold smile, looking at him with dead eyes.

“Jesus, you’re really a pain in the ass,” he says in a deep breath, reaching for the painkillers.

You decided to ignore his commentary and get ready for the day. According to your new schedule, the man you two went to investigate would be in a meeting and then head to the restaurant. It was the perfect opportunity. You decided to wear a short black dress, making your thighs visible, and a V-neckline, showing a little of your breasts.

"Fuck” Leon mutters when he sees you, and you can notice he’s a little nervous. Maybe he’s starting to remember what he did last night.

“What?” you ask him, raising both of your eyebrows.

“I can’t find my phone,” he replies angrily, looking the entire room over to find his phone.

“It’s in the drawer.” You rolled your eyes, finishing with the makeup and your hair. Leon sighed in relief when he finally found his phone. “You’re welcome”

He took a few minutes until he finished getting ready. Leon was wearing a navy blue shirt, black shorts, and sunglasses, the same ones he was using at the airport. He was looking very beautiful, but you decided to keep your thoughts to yourself.

“Ready?” he finally asks you, looking at you with some curiosity. You nodded, grabbing your purse and walking next to him outside the room.

The hotel’s restaurant was filled with the clinking of cutlery and the low murmur of conversations. Leon and you decided to sit across from each other at a small, intimate table, your gazes scanning the room for any sign of your target.

The aroma of freshly brewed coffee and the soft jazz playing in the background provided a calming facade to the tension that lingered between them. Leon, with disheveled hair and a pair of sunglasses that only partially hid the evidence of a rough night, rubbed his temples and winced.

"Ugh, I think I might die. I can't believe you dragged me into this after last night. I swear, my head is splitting." he muttered, pretending to be reading the menu.

"This is a mission, Leon, not a vacation. You knew what you signed up for when you took that last shot. Now, pull yourself together. We need to find our guy, and your hangover isn't helping." you shot him a withering look, your eyes sharp beneath a cascade of your hair

"I just don't get why we couldn't have rescheduled this. I mean, who plans a stakeout the morning after an undercover party? It's like the universe is against me." Leon leaned back in his chair, wincing at the light filtering through the bistro's window.

"We don't have the luxury of rescheduling. This is our best chance to catch him off guard, and we can't afford any mistakes. Your lack of professionalism could jeopardize the entire mission. So, get over yourself and focus." You clenched your jaw, your frustration evident.

Leon sighed, realizing he had hit a nerve. He straightened up and took off his sunglasses, revealing bloodshot eyes.

"Fine, fine. I get it. No more complaints. Let's just eat and keep an eye out for our guy. Maybe the food will cure this hangover from hell." he said, waving his hand at the waitress.

"Good. We need to stay sharp. Our target is slippery, and we can't afford to miss any signs. Just remember, we're a married couple on a lunch date. Act natural." you nodded, your stern expression softening slightly.

As the minutes went by, the restaurant was an oasis of calm, its subdued lighting and plush furnishings a stark contrast to the pounding headache Leon was nursing.

Besides his mood and his complaints about the headache, you were the one who maintained a professional demeanor. However, your patience was wearing thin. The clinking of silverware and muted conversations formed a backdrop to your undercover mission.

"Can we make this quick? My head feels like it's about to split open." Leon winced, massaging his temples after minutes in silence.

"You brought this upon yourself, Leon. You can't let your personal life interfere with the mission. We have a job to do." You shot him a disapproving glance.

"I didn't expect last night to turn into a frat party. It was supposed to be a simple gathering." Leon sighed, regret etched on his face.

"Well, you should have thought about that before you started to behave like a pampered kid. But guess what, Kennedy? We can't change that now. We're on a timeline, and we can't afford mistakes. So, suck it up and focus." your eyes narrowed, your tone of voice sounding angry. I love you, his words, still echoing in the back of your head,

As he perused the menu, Leon's eyes flickered across the room, and he stiffened.

"There he is," he muttered, nodding discreetly toward your target who had just entered the restaurant.

"Perfect timing, Leon. Just what we needed." your gaze followed Leon's, and you cursed under your breath.

You two ordered quickly, your argument temporarily set aside as you two maintained the appearance of a normal, albeit slightly disgruntled, married couple. The target settled at a nearby table, engaged in conversation with an associate. As your food arrived, Leon's hangover-induced irritability resurfaced.

"Can we at least eat in peace before we tail him? I'm not in the mood for this undercover drama." he complains again.

"Your mood doesn't matter. We need to catch this guy. Finish your food quickly, and we'll tail him discreetly." you shot him a stern look.

Leon grumbled but complied, glancing over his shoulder at the target. The argument simmered beneath the surface, waiting for the opportune moment to erupt. As the two of you left the restaurant, the hangover weighed heavily on Leon, intensifying his annoyance. You kept your voice low as you two trailed the target through the hotel's corridors.

"Leon, I don't care about your hangover. We can argue later. Right now, we need to focus on the mission." you sharply told him in annoyance.

Leon shot back, his tone sharp, "Well, maybe if you were a bit more understanding, we wouldn't have to argue at all. This headache is killing me."

You shot him a pointed look but decided to let it go for the moment as you two approached the front desk to inquire about your room. The target was believed to be staying on one of the upper floors, and obviously, you two needed to gather information without raising suspicion. As you stepped into the elevator, Leon swayed slightly, earning a disapproving glance from you. The elevator doors closed, and Leon muttered:

"I'll be fine. Let's just get this over with."

The doors opened to a corridor adorned with plush carpeting and dimmed lights. You and Leon maintained their cover, acting the part of the honeymooning couple as you two made your way down the hall. Just as the both of you reached the door to the suspected target's room, a sudden chill crept up Leon's spine.

A group of imposing figures, undoubtedly the target's security detail, emerged from the elevator behind you. Your eyes widened as you discreetly tugged on Leon's arm, directing his attention to the unexpected threat.

"Leon, we've got company," you whispered urgently.

“Well, sweetheart, you won’t like this” Leon said, turning himself to you.

“What-”

Before you could even speak, you felt his lips crushing against yours. Something about his kiss made you feel something inside your chest. The taste of alcohol mixed with mint, the way his tongue danced inside your mouth, it was something you never felt and tasted before.

Leon tilted your chin upward, creating the perfect illusion of a stolen moment between two infatuated lovers. The security guards, momentarily thrown off by the unexpected display, hesitated in their approach. You felt him break the kiss, your eyes meeting with a shared understanding.

“That was close” he whispers, holding your hand as you two walk together in the corridor.

But you were left without any words. His kiss caught you completely off guard and for some stupid reason, you felt your legs were failing you. Something about the way Leon's lips pressed against yours sparked an internal conflict. His kiss was not one of disdain; it was fervent, almost desperate. In that moment, the line between pretense and reality blurred, and you found yourself torn between the mission and your own conflicting emotions.

As you walked in silence next to him, the tension between you two became palpable. Leon, ever the professional, maintained his stoic expression, his eyes scanning the horizon for any potential threats, even with the hangover state. You, on the other hand, couldn't shake off the unease that accompanied you every step. You stole a glance at Leon, his features carved in light of the hallway.

Suddenly, the tranquility of the night shattered as a series of sharp cracks pierced the air. Bullets whizzed past you two, sparking against the cobblestone streets. You and Leon instinctively dove behind the cover of a wall as the realization hit — you two were the targets now.

"Move!" Leon shouted over the chaos, grabbing your arm and propelling you forward.

The rhythmic staccato of gunfire followed you two, echoing through the maze of narrow alleys. The assailants were relentless, shadows in pursuit, fueled by an unseen vendetta. You two sprinted through the labyrinthine corridors, your breaths mingling with the desperate echoes of your footfalls. Leon's mind raced, analyzing escape routes and potential hiding spots. You, feeling your heart pounding, cast glances over your shoulder, your instincts sharp as you matched Leon's every move.

The honeymoon facade shattered as the two agents sprinted down the corridor, bullets whizzing past the two of you. Panic and urgency replaced the hangover-induced haze in Leon's mind. You two reached a stairwell, taking it two steps at a time, the footsteps drowned out by the chaos unfolding behind you.

As you two burst onto a lower floor, you spotted an emergency exit. Without hesitation, you burst through the door, finding yourselves in a garden. The adrenaline-fueled escape continued through the green labyrinthine surrounding the hotel, leaving the luxurious facade behind as you and Leon navigated the maze, chased by both the consequences of the cover being blown and the remnants of the security detail.

It wasn’t supposed to happen like this.

Apparently, the said billionaire found out about the two of you, and now, Leon and you had to run somewhere else safe, leaving all your belongings in the hotel. There were gunshots everywhere, and you had to fight for your dear life, protecting you and Leon with a marble statue as a form of barricade to prevent being shot.

“This isn’t how I expected my honeymoon to be,” Leon muttered, shooting one of the security guards.

“This isn’t a honeymoon either,” you replied, firing your gun at the guard, killing him with a perfect headshot. “We are not even married”

“Well, this isn’t how I imagined it, anyway. We need to get out, Ms. Kennedy,” Leon said, offering his hand to you, which you took without thinking twice. You started to run, with Leon covering your back.

You could hear the security guards running after you, two more gunshots. Likewise, you ran for your life, not daring to look behind you, knowing Leon was right behind you, making sure you were protected, which was very odd, considering the history between the two of you.

At the moment, it's the last thing you're worried about. After a few minutes of running, you managed to escape the guards and find a place to hide. You were breathing heavily, and shaking.

“Are you okay?” Leon asks you, looking at the direction you two came from.

“Why do you care?” you simply replied, coughing a little as you tried to catch your breath.

“Do you think I don’t remember what I said last night? C’mon, I might be a drunk asshole, but I don’t forget things easily.” Leon glanced at you, which was more sympathetic than usual.

“This isn’t fair. You can’t say things like that after treating me like garbage for years,” you snapped at him, finally letting your feelings go without any shame. “You can’t say you love me, and the next day you can’t barely look at my face. You can’t say you love me when the only thing that comes from your mouth is hate and disgust. This isn’t fair, and you can’t play like that with me”

After saying that, you decided to walk yourself out and leave Leon alone. Who the hell did he think he was? He had no right to play with your feelings like that. You were so angry at him for throwing that on your shoulders with no responsibility.

Besides, you had important things to deal with, not his bullshit. Your hands were shaking like crazy, and you realized that you had no control over your feelings, and this was very dangerous, especially in your line of work. You needed to calm yourself down, and you needed to do it fast.

Hours later, everything was quiet. Leon was nowhere to be seen, because you didn’t notice when he went missing in the first place, and you couldn't care less about him. It was obviously a stupid idea to try to get back to the hotel, knowing it would be heavily secured after what happened earlier. But, somehow, you felt something very wrong.

The gunshot noises out there were exactly what you didn’t want to hear. You heard screams and loud voices, and immediately, your hand fell to your gun. You heard footsteps, and by the sound, you knew this person was supporting his body weight on his left leg, and was limping heavily. When you were about to attack, it was him.

“What the hell?” you gasped in shock, seeing him limping and, of course, injured.

“I tried to get our comms back” he whimpered almost quietly, as you helped him sit down. He was breathing heavily, his hand pressing tightly on his ribs. “But, as you can see, it didn’t go well.”

“And you say I'm reckless, right?” you muttered, trying to see the size of the damage on him, although he whined again. “You could've died in there, asshole”

“Now I understand why you do things this way,” Leon chuckles, but then he groans in pain, his grip on his ribs getting tight. “It’s way more fun”

“Fun? Are you out of your mind, Kennedy?” you snapped at him. If Leon wasn’t injured at the moment, you would definitely beat the living shit out of him. “I don’t do things like that for fun!”

“Keep your voice down, sweetheart. I don’t want to get back home inside a coffin,” Leon said, as he pressed his hand on your mouth to keep you quiet. In the sudden silence, you were able to hear more footsteps, and Leon kept pressing his hand on your mouth. A few minutes later, everything went silent again.

“I’m not… okay” he mutters, and his eyes meet yours. Blue like the ocean. And then, you finally see the blood spot on his shirt — the same spot he was trying to hide from you. “I’m sorry”

“I swear to God, if you dare to die on me, I’ll personally kill you, Kennedy,” you replied, and then you started to press his wound to prevent him from bleeding to a certain death.

But he smiled. It was a faint smile, but he was really smiling at you. You saw him raise his hand, and he touched your hair, moving the strands that fell on your face. The way he was looking at you, so sad and weak, it was like he was saying goodbye.

“You look so... beautiful.” His voice seems weak, and his breath starts to become more shallow. “I guess… this is what angels look like”

“C’mon, Leon, don’t you dare die on me,” you said as you noticed yourself getting more anxious by the second.

He smiled again and kept looking at you with those beautiful blue eyes. Slowly, he started to close his eyes, and his breath got more shallow, indicating he was losing consciousness. The more you tried to keep him awake, the more he seemed lost. You were slowly losing him.

“Condor One! Condor Two,” someone called you two. It was your squad.

“We’re here” you shouted at them, your hands filled with Leon’s blood as you waved at your squad. “He’s injured and losing a lot of blood”

“Don’t worry, we’re taking you two,” the leader said as the team approached you with medical equipment.

You couldn’t describe the stress you felt with everything that happened in the meantime. Did you two succeed in the mission? Was it over? You couldn’t know. Not until you were sure Leon was safe and sound.

From the helicopter, you could see the sirens, the local police, and the agents from the government. It was almost unbelievable, but it was true. The operation was a success, after all. You glanced at Leon. He was sleeping, or at least he seemed to be.

You tried to rest, but it seemed unreachable. Your body was electric, filled with constant energy that prevented you from closing your eyes. You wanted to sleep badly, but your concern about him was enough to keep you awake. When the helicopter finally landed at the hospital heliport, Leon was immediately taken into surgery. As for you, you had no other option but to wait.

Hours later, you had no news about him, and the anxiety was eating you alive from the inside. At this point, your body was less tense than before, and the first signs of stress and tiredness were finally showing up. You were sitting in a chair, in an empty white hallway, waiting. The hours seemed to slip through your fingers, slowly.

You sighted a kid playing with a purple teddy bear, and for a moment, you started to wonder about the life you led. The choices you made and how you ended up in your job. It was weird to think that while other people had normal lives, you had to risk yours every day, to make sure they would live in a safe world.

It sounded selfish to think like that, but you had every reason to do so since you couldn’t have a normal life. That word didn’t exist in your dictionary. Nor in your days.

Then, you see yourself playing with Leon’s mother's ring on your finger. For a brief moment, you imagined how your life would be if you were married and raising kids. Then, you push away these thoughts; motherhood isn’t your style, not even a married life.

“Ms. Kennedy?” you hear the doctor call you, and the sound of Leon’s surname addressed to you like you were his real wife makes your heart ache.

“Is he okay?” Your voice sounded more hoarse than you thought it would, a small consequence of being silent for so long. The look on the doctor’s face said there wasn’t good news.

“Your husband has lost a lot of blood, but we managed to stop the bleeding, and the surgery went well. Our main concern is with his brain injury…” The doctor pauses for a brief moment, wondering how to tell you the next news. “But, unfortunately, he’s in a coma.”

The news came at you like a violent wave. Suddenly, the world around you stopped, and you couldn't hear anything else. Your eyes were wide open, your chest was burning and aching, and for some stupid reason, you didn’t want to believe those words. How could Leon be in a coma? It was your thing to play reckless, he had no right to leave you like this.

You saw the doctor talking to you, but you couldn’t hear anything; everything around you was running slowly. What the hell was he saying? His lips moved slowly, just like the rest of the entire world, but you managed to understand: he was asking you if you were okay or if you needed something.

You felt like you were drowning, unable to reach the surface, surrounded by darkness. You wanted to scream and cry, but you couldn’t. You felt trapped by an invisible force, holding you tight and keeping you shut.

It was the sight of Chris that made you turn back to reality, and finally, the scream that was trapped in your throat came out from the core of your lungs.

“It��s okay, I got you,” Redfield said quickly as he held you before you fell to the ground. Your legs were shaking just like the rest of your body. “It’s okay”

“It was my fault, Chris.” Your voice was muffled by desperate chokes and sobs. “He’s in a coma, and it’s my fault”

“It’s not your fault, okay? It could’ve happened to you or him. Leon knows what he does, and I’m sure he did that to protect you" Chris tries his best to comfort you, although it seems impossible at the moment. He still holds you tight, for which you are very grateful, because you know you’ll fall if he lets you go.

Leon had no one in his life. You knew that the moment he told you about the ring. The “family” he had consisted of Chris and Claire, Jill, and Rebecca. You had no room for this. Leon made that pretty clear years ago, but now everything is different. You had to tell everyone what went wrong, how he got injured, and why it ended like that. You had to describe the entire mission, you had to remember everything. Now you were sitting again, with Claire holding your hand, while Jill and Chris were talking with Rebecca. Your eyes were locked on your hands, still stained with his blood. You were completely shocked, with no reaction or words.

“He’ll wake up, I know he will,” Claire whispers as a way to comfort you and give you kind words.

“He said he loves me,” you managed to say, although you doubted Claire would hear it. You wanted to hold onto something real, that would help you deal with what was happening.

“He always did, I’m glad he finally told you that,” Claire said, and you were a little surprised she heard you. More surprised to hear something you thought would never exist.

“But I don’t think that’s true. He always hated me.” You finally look at her, your eyes seeing something different from the dried blood in your hands.

“Do you think Leon is capable of hating you? He’s so in love with you, he can’t even hide it,” Claire said, and then she smiled largely while holding your hands.

But you find it hard to believe those words. Your mind was conflicted between what Claire was saying and what Leon said before he fainted. You wanted desperately to believe it, but deep down, you weren't sure. You finally received authorization to see him, with the benefit of being his “wife” and a government agent, but when you stepped inside his room, seeing all those loud machines around his body and a giant bandage on his ribs, his clothes were perfectly folded in the chair. His skin was pale and cold to the touch. He was almost lifeless, and seeing him like that made you sob again.

“I’m sorry… I never wanted to see you hurt,” you muttered, hoping he would hear it. You held his hand, praying he would wake up. “If you can hear me, then come back to us... I miss you fighting with me”

But there was nothing — not even a small squeeze on your hand. You were trying to convince yourself that he heard you and that he was coming back to you, and that was the lie you were desperately trying to believe. How silly you were. How desperate and pathetic you felt. It could be days, weeks, months, or years, how could you possibly predict when he would wake up? It was up to him.

“You won’t get rid of me that easily, Kennedy,” you said last, as a single tear fell from your eye. You wanted to be brave for him.

And as an answer, he squeezed your hand weakly.

Three months later.

“Goddammit, this hurts!” Leon groaned angrily at you when you tried to remove the bandage from his ribs to clean it.

“Stop moving, asshole,” you said back, glancing at him and then rolling your eyes. “Then it won’t hurt”

“You’re so fucking gentle,” he muttered, taking a deep breath. You waited until he stopped moving so you could change the bandage.

“Hey, I’m not the one with open wounds,” you teased him, then finished removing the bandage, being extra careful with the stitches on his skin.

“How does it look?” Leon asks with a soft voice. You noticed that he never actually looked at the wound.

“Terrible, but healing,” you smiled kindly at him, cleaning around the wound with the antiseptic and the wet cotton. You saw his skin chilling, and soft groans coming from his mouth.

Leon hated seeing his scars. He hated having them; he hated knowing what caused them, which was why he barely sees himself in the mirror; he avoids his own image. One month ago, Leon woke up from his coma, and although he was very confused, at first, due to his brain injury, he had no memories of the mission or what happened before he got hurt. Chris had to explain everything to him like he was a toddler learning how to communicate.

“So… that was it,” Chris tells him, after explaining why he was in a hospital bed with a huge wound on his ribs.

“Shit… I’m tired,” Leon muttered, closing his eyes for a moment and trying to relax his beaten-up body on the bed. “Two months?”

“Yep. You slept like a baby,” Chris chuckled, making fun of the situation to lighten up his mood.

“Where is…” Leon started, as it seems pretty obvious that you weren’t there with Chris.

“Oh…” The smile on Chris’s lips disappeared slowly, and he became more serious, sitting more appropriately on the chair. “Well, um…”

For some unknown reason, Leon was anxious. He didn’t know why, but he felt eager to know why you weren’t there with him; he was sure he heard you say you missed him fighting with you, but at this point, he wasn’t sure if it was a dream or reality. And the way Chris kept looking at him made his heart beat ten thousand times faster. When Chris was about to tell Leon about you, someone knocked on the door, and when the person came inside, Leon felt disappointed to see it was a nurse with his medication.

“Mr. Redfield, you’ll have to leave now. The visiting hour ended a few minutes ago, and the patient needs to rest,” the nurse says, leaving the tray with Leon’s medication on his bedside table. Leon sighed, glancing at the window, while he laid his head on his pillow to rest.

“Before I go… I want you to have this,” Chris said, getting closer to his bed with something in his hand. Leon glanced back, curious. When Chris opened his hand, Leon saw his mother’s ring, and he felt sad. “You know, she was here with you the entire time”

“Then why is she not here now?” Leon asks, holding the ring in his hand and avoiding Chris’s gaze.

“Give time to time,” Redfield said before leaving his room.

Leon hated being in the hospital with different wires connected to his body. Nurses checked on him constantly, asking a lot of questions, taking him through thousands of exams to see if he was doing better or worse, and doing physiotherapy. They said the brain injury had damaged his body, and, besides the wound on his ribs, Leon had broken his arm and would have a disability in walking and doing normal things. Of course, with the proper therapy, he would walk again and have a normal life, but he needed to cooperate.

Leon had already convinced himself you didn’t care, but on the third week after he woke up, he was taken into another exam. One hour later, when he came back to his room, he found you asleep on the chair, wrapped around your jumper, seeming tired to the bones. The nurse helped him lay back on his bed, and he remained silent, just watching you sleep. He wanted to keep every detail about you, even the small ones. Suddenly, you moved on the chair and woke up, yawning. Nothing he had rehearsed in his head prepared him for this moment.

He had given up on hope, he thought you would never see him again. Maybe you had found another partner, or maybe you had moved on with your life. Perhaps you just didn’t care about him. Maybe and more maybe…

"Hey,” you said, noticing he was too shocked to even pronounce a word. “How are you?”

“Fine, I guess,” he managed to say, and he wanted to punch himself because he sounded very rude. “That’s not what I meant…”

But, to his surprise, you just smiled. Chris told you about his amnesia, he told you that Leon wouldn’t be able to walk for a long time because of the damage to his brain from the injury. You were hoping he didn’t remember what happened before he fainted that day. It would be easier for both of you.

“I came here because Chris told me you woke up, I wasn’t in the country, so…” you said, feeling your cheeks blush a little. He nodded quietly, and the expression on his face told you he was sad. “I had to finish our last mission. Do you remember anything?”

“Not so much, everything is a little messed up, and every time I try to remember something, my head hurts,” he says, taking a deep breath and laying his head on the pillow again. “I remember me in front of your apartment telling you about our mission; I remember giving you my mother’s ring; and the fight we had at the airport… I remember a few things from the hotel we were at, but nothing more… Sometimes I have a few flashbacks. I remember getting hurt trying to get our comms back, breaking my arm, but..."

“It’s okay, don’t force yourself. You know you’ll remember eventually,” you said to him, trying to give some comfort. “You’re alive and recovering, that’s all that matters now, Leon”

“It sucks being here… I want to go home, but people keep telling me I’m better here and that medical bullshit,” he sighs, then he looks outside his window again.

“About that… I’m here to offer something,” you said to him, already thinking it would be a terrible idea.

“What would that be?” he asks you, raising both of his eyebrows in a slightly curious tone.

“Come live with me…” you simply said, shaking both of your shoulders like it was the most normal thing in the world. “Until you recover, of course”

At first, having him live with you proved to be a difficult task, mostly because Leon thought he was a burden and strongly avoided his appointments. In his head, he could treat himself alone, he could take care of his wounds and do the chores in the house. However, he could barely leave the bed, and he complained every time you tried to convince him to attend his appointments. Even Chris tried to coax him into getting out of the house, but Leon refused like a pampered kid. It was very difficult.

“You know I can’t do everything on my own, right?” you asked him after finishing changing and cleaning the wound on his rib.

“I know, but… I’m sorry,” he says with a deep sigh, looking at you with guilt. “I know I’m making this more difficult than it should be…”

“It’s not your fault, but I really need you to understand that sometimes even the toughest agent needs help. You can’t avoid medical care forever, Leon,” you said, looking straight into his eyes.

“I’m an asshole, right?” He managed to smile a little, then he looked at you. “I never thanked you for taking care of me”

“What can I say? You didn’t make things easier, either.” You smiled at him, looking into his blue eyes.

“I have something I need to tell you,” Leon whispers, then bites his lower lip and avoids your eyes.

“Shoot me”

“I… remember what happened… before the coma. I remember the mission,” he says, finally taking the courage to look into your eyes. You decided to stay calm, but not cold. “I was scared, I never thought I would almost die… but then you were there with me, and I felt at peace”

“Why did you give me your mother’s ring?” you decided to ask. You needed to understand.

“Because it was personal, I wanted you to have something personal from me… I knew one day I would come close to death trying to get your ass out of danger, and I thought you would feel better having something mine,” he explained, and then, everything made sense. He truly cared about you.

“You’re such a fucking idiot, Kennedy.” You smiled at him, then you laughed.

“Hey… what’s wrong? Are you okay?” you asked after knocking on his door. He glanced at you, his eyes swollen after crying for God knows how long.

This entire month that you took care of him was enough to learn how to read him. Before, he was pure mystery — the person who hated you the most. Now you know when he’s happy, angry, or uncomfortable. You know how to decipher him, read his face, and understand how he feels.

Leon still sleeps in the guest’s room, but sometimes you can hear him wince and cry, and sometimes you can hear him sobbing. You woke up to the sound of him crying and decided to finally ask. You had been wondering for weeks, thinking he wouldn’t talk about this subject. But you needed to try it, anyway.

“I… it’s nothing, I’m okay,” he said, quickly wiping the tears from his eyes.

“C’mon, you can talk to me. We’re friends now,” you say again, sitting on the edge of his bed and smiling.

“It’s just a silly nightmare…” Leon whispers softly, looking at his arm plaster. You had signed your name on it, followed by Chris, Claire, Jill, and Rebecca. “It’s Raccoon City. The same night over and over again”

“You were there? I’m surprised,” you said to him, and he smirked slightly.

“I was a rookie cop, late as hell on my first day. I had recently graduated from the Police Academy,” Leon explains, gazing at the ceiling, then at you again. “I survived that night, met Claire, saved Sherry… then, they forced me to work for them, and here I am”

“Forced? What do you mean?” You raised your eyebrows, confused.

“It was a deal I made to keep Sherry safe… I never told this to anyone,” Leon whispers, and you imagine how cruel it was for him to be forced to work all those years for the government. “How about you? How did you end up being an agent?”

“Before the government, I was in the army. Special Forces. I worked with Task 141 across the earth, until I decided to leave before things went to shit” you tell Leon, which makes him glance at you completely surprised. “I miss my buddies Price, Roach, Soap, and Ghost”

“It’s so weird to think how our lives were different… I was forced to join the government, you decided to do it for yourself…” Leon whispers, analyzing his own choices in life. “Now I can truly understand why you work the way you do…”

“I made a lot of bad choices, I’ll admit that. But after everything I did in the past… you actually get used to your own method of working,” you say to him, hugging your legs. “Maybe that’s why I do things the way I do. I like the adrenaline and danger that come with it”

“I’m sorry for calling you reckless,” Leon said after a brief moment of silence.

“That’s okay, trust me. I've heard worse things before,” you chuckled.

Leon seemed more calm, although his eyes were still red and swollen. You heard the first drops of rain hitting his window, and the noise of the lightning outside announced the rain. For a moment, there was only silence between the two of you.

“I hate this stupid arm plaster,” Leon suddenly says, and then you laugh.

“But there are our names signed on it. And I made a drawing when you were asleep” You showed him the drawing you made. It was a cat and a few flowers.

“Flowers? Really?” Leon frowned, glancing at you.

His last appointment provided good news. His ribs seemed to be healing, and soon he would be able to remove the arm plaster. After the appointment, you drove Leon to his physiotherapy session, and for the first time after he woke up from the coma, he finally decided to cooperate with himself. For some unknown reason, he wasn’t grumpy today.

“What? They’re cute!” you protested while laughing at his reaction. “But I’m serious, you need to sleep now. Tomorrow you have that physiotherapy session and an appointment”

“Well, if you keep doing home exercises, soon you’ll be fully recovered,” the doctor tells him, sitting in front of you two.

“Home exercises?” Leon asks, looking briefly at you, knowing you would definitely force him to do his exercises.

“Yes. It’ll help ease the pain and help with your mobility.” She nods, noting something on the paper. “And, most important, you can’t avoid your appointments, Mr. Kennedy”

“Yeah… I’ll keep coming,” he said, his entire face red as a tomato.

When you drove him back home, he certainly wasn’t expecting a surprise from your little family. Claire, Rebecca and Jill decorated your entire apartment, while Chris went to buy food and drinks. Because of the thousands of pills he was taking, Leon wasn’t allowed to drink any alcohol, which you gladly thanked him for. He was better sober than drunk.

The smile on his lips and the way his eyes were shining were more than he could put into words. You noticed that Claire even bought party letter decorations that were hanging from your ceiling, with the sentence ‘Happy Birthday, Leon’ in blue and yellow.

“Come on, you guys gotta be kidding me” he laughs with happiness, hugging everyone carefully.

“What? You really thought we would forget your birthday, golden boy?” you tease him, drinking soda and giving him one cup.

“This is… amazing” Leon seemed lost in his own words. “I don’t deserve you guys”

After singing him the birthday song, you guys celebrated his birthday with those blue birthday hats and a special cake the girls baked for him. Chris was talking to him, while you and Rebecca were chatting about types of coffee. Jill and Claire seemed to be very focused on their own conversation about TerraSave.

“Guys… I wanted to thank everyone. I know sometimes I’m a pain in the ass, but after everything that happened to me in the past three months, I have a lot to thank for… especially you.” Leon glances at you with shyness. “You took me into your home, took care of me, and had to hear every stupid joke I made, even my grumpy humor”

“That was the hard part, believe me,” you say, winking at him, which makes everyone laugh.

“I know. I was a jerk, and we had a lot of arguments with each other, but recently I found out that…” he paused for a moment, certainly thinking about what to say. “Life can be shitty sometimes, and bad things can happen to us… and this last mission made me see things I thought would never happen to me. I nearly died, but I got a second chance, and I don’t intend to waste it”

You knew exactly what he was talking about. Living with him for the past three months proved to be an interesting task. You knew him, and that was enough. Hours later, it was only you and him, sitting on your couch as the rain struck against the window. The fireplace gives off a warm temperature inside the living room, and, despite the silence, you two are more connected than before.

“I must say, there’s one thing I’m sure won't change,” Leon laughs, looking at his hands, after a long time of silence. “Being almost killed truly made me see things…”

“Such as?” You lifted your head to look at him.

“First, I actually never asked to be reassigned to another partner. I only told you that because I wanted to see how you would react” he said, looking at you. “And…”

“What's the second?” You laugh at his confession, mostly because you knew that a long time ago.

“The second is… I really hate the way that I love you”

861 notes · View notes