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randomdragonfires · 1 month

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Pieces of a Woman | One Shot

Text Divider by @saradika-graphics

SUMMARY | Even when his life takes a turn for the worse, Aemond Targaryen endures.

WARNINGS | 18+; Canon Divergence AU; Smut; Insanity; B&C; Gore; Delusions; Miscarriage; Yearning; ANGST

WORD COUNT | 7.2k

A/N | This is my personal favourite out of all the stories I've ever written, reposted with a new header and all that fun stuff! Beta read by the lovely @ewanmitchellcrumbs ❤️

They say madness is a slow disease, and that nobody truly knows when it begins.

They were wrong. Aemond Targaryen knew very well the exact moment the madness had sunk its claws into his wife. He had watched as her once bright and hopeful eyes became empty and devoid of emotion. He had watched as she was pulled into the darkness completely, becoming a shell of the woman she once was.

As much as he wished he could turn back time, he had accepted his fate. He accepted that he would never have his wife back. He would never hold her in his arms again and never get to lay his head on her lap as she embroidered. She would never read to him in her mellifluous voice ever again, despite the fact that he would give everything he had to have her with him once more.

What good was all this power and wealth, if he could not protect his own family? What good was his title as Prince Regent, if he did not have her to stand by his side? If he could not protect his little boy?

His hair, once braided to the side by her deft and nimble fingers with love, remained uncared for, left loose in all its glory. Training his one dark-rimmed, tired eye at the crypt that held the ashes of his heir, Aemond Targaryen let the sadness take him - for when his son’s life was brutally snuffed out, his wife’s very soul had been too.

There was nobody to blame for it all apart from himself.

Ever since their wedding, she had been a steady and calm presence in his life. She was the quiet to his rage, the water to his fire. He had always been a sullen and lonely child that harbored resentment for those who had wronged him, but he felt his heart steadily calm down with every moment he spent in her presence.

It wasn't until he met her that he realized he was lacking love and consideration, both of which he believed had never received before - not like this. She gave him an opportunity to be a better man; one that he took eagerly with both arms.

In return, he was a respectful husband who did his very best. He wasn’t adept at great gestures of love, but he always made sure that his wife woke with a kiss to her hair and his arms enveloping her body. He wanted her to never know loneliness for as long as he lived, he would make sure of it.

For all his reading and knowledge, Aemond was not good at making his appreciation known verbally. Instead, he would bring her huge tomes from the library so he could read to her. These books covered topics that he was passionate about, so everytime he brought one, he was offering up a part of his soul. Who better to give it to than the woman he has sworn his heart, soul and loyalty to?

He needed her. He needed her from deep in his soul, and he needed her carnally, always. She was all that was missing in his life, and now that he had her, he would always need her.

But right now, as her screams erupted through the halls of Maegor’s Holdfast, Aemond’s heart lurched in his chest, becoming heavier with each passing moment. The babe was arriving, and it would seem that the child was taking her for all that she was. Everytime she groaned in pain, he held onto the railing tighter than ever, as though it would make her pain go away.

They would not let him in, no. Childbirth was a woman’s fight, and the men would have to wait outside - much like the women did when the men went to battle. There was nothing he would not give to hold her hand right now; to tell her that she would be an absolutely beautiful mother, and that all she had to do was summon all her strength and emerge victorious.

As though she had heard his thoughts, her pained wails slowly died down, replaced by the first cries of a newborn. Boy or girl, the babe had an incredibly strong pair of lungs on them, their mighty cries could overshadow even the loudest of thunderstorms. The cries echoed through the halls of Maegor’s Holdfast, and the servants outside immediately jumped to work. A new royal babe had been born after all - there was work to be done, celebratory feasts to be organized, chambers to be prepared, nothing but the best for a Targaryen.

His mother stepped out of the chambers and laid a hand on his back in comfort. She kissed him on the cheek and smiled in congratulations. “Mother and babe are well, my son. She has made me so proud. The little one is beautiful, he would go on to achieve many great things. Just like you.”

A son. She had given him an heir to carry his bloodline. How would he ever repay her?

He walked into the chambers with speed that he did not know he possessed, his purpose made clear with each stride. The midwives and maids moved to make way for the One-Eyed Prince, and in he went.

She laid in the middle of the chambers, looking like she had braved the worst experience of her life. Her hair was askew, with sweat coating her entire body, her fatigue was palpable. Blood and waters coated the floor, and the chambers smelled like death. The bloody spots on her shift alarmed him, and it concerned him to see his usually happy and energetic wife look so thoroughly worn out. But then she smiled.

Through all her weariness from the challenges of the birthing bed, she had meekly smiled at him - and all was alright in his world again. He held her cheek in his palm and kissed her forehead, heart full from knowing that she was alright. She reached for his other hand, holding onto it like it was the last thing that kept her tethered to reality.

“Are you well, wife?”

The seemingly simple question certainly did not project the waves of concern that had plagued him outside while he waited with bated breath, but she knew. She saw it in the crinkles on his forehead and the widening of his good eye.

“I am now.”

She had braved battle, and had never looked more beautiful to him than she did now. Her voice was hoarse from all the pained screaming, and she certainly had no business being awake right now - but by the Gods, he was the happiest man in the realm.

The maids were done with wiping the blood off of the babe and had handed the boy to her. Aemond knew right then that he would have to compete for his wife’s attention from then on, for his little son had clearly stolen her heart, and his, within moments of his birth.

Her weak voice called out to him once more. “Aemond, husband… look what we made.”

He was exquisite. Aemond reached out to the babe, his son, and his son's pudgy rose finger latched onto his long, sturdy one as he continued to cry. “He has a strong grip. He shall be a storied warrior." She smiles at the possibility, and he cannot help but kiss her hand once more.

"You’ve given birth to a boy as strong as you are, wife.” He watched as she nudged her nose to the babe’s and smiled, her face glistening from sweat and tears. His newborn son’s cries got louder with each passing moment, but despite being a man of silence and solitude, Aemond had never felt more at peace.

“Thank you.”

Aemond would be the first to deny that he was a doting paragon of a husband that the bards would sing about, but he certainly was a good man who loved and respected his wife.

In the days that followed the birth of his child, he had spent every waking moment that he could spare with the pair of them. Both mother and son had the fierce One-Eyed Prince wrapped around their fingers. Between sparring sessions and battling his family’s idiosyncrasies on the daily, his little family had given him quite the reprieve, one that he was infinitely thankful for.

But now, his son is gone, and his wife is too.

“The heirs need to be kept safe. The twins, little Maelor, all three of them,” his mother said.

He may be in the middle of a war, but it was moments like these that seemed hardest to him. Aemond sat quietly by the hearth, in the very same chair where he always rested. His wife used to sit by him or at his feet as she embroidered. Now, her absence was a gaping hole each time he sat.

“Aemond…”

He turned to the sound of his grandfather calling out his name, looking cold and calculated. It did not escape Aemond that he was discussing the safety of his brother's children while he had lost his own child. The irony of it all was stark and jarring.

“Yes,” he curtly responded.

“It is in our best interests that you…” His grandfather paused midway through his words, and Aemond knew well that the man did that only when unsettling news was to follow. “...that you take a new wife. We’re in need of an alliance, and she can be sent to the motherhouse at Oldtown. She will be cared for, she will be fed-”

He saw red. “My son is dead!” The words tumbled out of Aemond’s mouth like shards of glass before he could even comprehend the gravity of his grandfather’s heavy, cutting words.

"My son’s death is on my conscience, his blood is on my hands. I did not do the deed myself, but it certainly feels like I was the one who wielded the knife that killed him.” The people had taken to calling him a kinslayer, and Aemond felt it in his bones everyday - not because of Lucerys Velaryon, but because of how his rash actions had resulted in the death of his little boy.

“My son is dead, and my wife has not been the same ever since. How do you think I can start a new family, with a new woman, when I know very well that I have caused all the grief that has driven my wife to madness? When I caused the death of my own child?”

Aemond Targaryen always made for a menacing sight, but his grandfather was not prepared for the kind of anger that his grandson had kept stored in him - for himself, his wife, and his son. They were not here, and he was angry enough for all three of them.

The Dowager Queen watched the entire conversation unfold, and she held her hand to her chest, feeling her heartbeat become frantic with each moment that she saw her son in distress. She knew how content he was in his wife's presence, and how much he loved her. To watch a child grow and fester in his own resentment - no mother should have to witness it. And yet, the Gods saw fit to give Alicent Hightower the closest view to her son's heartbreak.

“Get out,” he seethed. Otto Hightower took Aemond’s raw and angry words in stride before walking away, his head still held high.

His mother stood in front of him, held his hand and kissed him on the cheek. “I’m sorry, my boy. I’m so sorry…”

She wept until she could not, and it took everything Aemond had in him to not do the same.

When he tossed and turned in his bed in the middle of the night, he would always reach out for her.

She would always welcome his touch and curl into him, her forehead resting on the smooth planes of his chest and her warm breath making goosebumps rise on his skin. He would hold her tight until neither could ascertain where one ended and the other began, and sleep that normally eluded him would come to him faster than anything else.

Tonight, her spot on the bed is empty.

When he woke in a hurry, he noticed the crumpled sheets and the pillows left askew, the only evidence of her having retired to bed alongside him. He quickly rose from the bed and tried to calm his rapidly beating heart, wondering as to where she could have gone at this ungodly hour.

Gods, was she hurt?

He did not have to wait for the divine deities to answer, for his answer came in the form of the sweet humming sounds that he had grown to love. He followed her voice as he walked through their apartments, and it led him to the chamber where his son’s crib was kept. She was sitting next to it in her white shift, her head peeping in as she let her hands rest on the crib. She hummed softly and happily, marveling at how beautiful her little boy looked as he slept - looking much like the man she shared her bed with.

Aemond wanted to ask her to come back to bed immediately. The maesters had advised lots of rest for his wife, given the stress of the labors and the damage her body had taken. But as he watched her and his boy, he knew he couldn’t. He needed a moment to drink in the sight of his wife and son - his entire world, all in one chamber.

He held so much love in his heart for them both despite seeing them only with one eye. Perhaps he’d be able to love them more if he could see them with two.

“He’s going to be there when we wake, wife. Come back to bed.”

She turned to him and smiled, a warm smile that he wished he could brand into his mind for all eternity. “Did I wake you?”

“You did not. Your absence from our bed did.”

She chuckled softly, and he walked over to her. He positioned himself behind her chair and kissed her temple, letting his hands rest on her shoulders. “I don’t think I shall ever tire of looking at him,” She said.

“Hm.” His gaze rested on the sleeping babe, tired from all his crying throughout the day.

“My son, a dragon prince,” She mused. “He’ll be charming, strong and intelligent, just like his father.”

At that, he chuckled darkly and she rose, turning around to face him. Her hand found his cheek and he leaned into her touch, leaving a light kiss on her wrist as he held her hand in place. “What’s so amusing, husband?”

“Charming is not the first word anyone would use to describe me, wife.”

“Well, you are. To me.” Her whispering siren-like voice was like music to his ears.

She reached up on her toes and left a light kiss on his brow, and Aemond was quick to hold her to him by the waist, wanting to have this - this quiet solace - all to himself for a time.

Who was he to argue with the woman around whom his entire world revolved? The very one that held his heart in her hands?

He stands in the middle of what used to be their shared chambers and sighs.

The entire room is covered in pieces of her - fragments of her that he desperately clings to for dear life. Robes and dresses that she had not worn in a long time, but still manage to somehow retain her scent. Quills and ink that she used to write her correspondence with, now left to gather dust. Ten Thousand Ships, her favorite book, one that he had given to her as a name day present, laid abandoned on the bedside table.

This was the very same chamber where he had claimed her. This was where he had first admitted to loving her. This was where she had told him that she was with child. This was where they had spent countless nights talking well into the night, their bodies entwined and voices coming out in hushed whispers and low giggles. This was where they had discovered and learned of the passions of the marital bed, together. This was where their marriage had grown and bloomed.

If he walks a little further, his feet will take him to the adjoined room where his son used to sleep - but try as he might, he does not have the strength for that. Not yet.

He sits by the edge of their bed, the sunlight passing through the windows in streaks of yellow gold. He closes his good eye, hoping for a little time to adjust to the light. Perhaps if he closes it hard enough, he will be able to picture her sitting by the window with her focused eyes trained on her embroidery or one of his books, waiting for him to come back to her after his daily duties.

His nose flares at the unearthly reminder that his wife is no longer his by side. She had been full of happiness and life, and she had brought light into his life. He welcomed it for as long as she was around, but now that she was gone, he closes his eye and avoids it like the plague, much like he does with the sunlight that now warms his skin.

Her world has become dark because of him. How can he sit in the light in good conscience, when he knows he has lost all right to it?

The waves crashed by the shores of Blackwater Bay and she sat on the sands, watching them. She had a book in her hands, and a basket of food that she had the maids prepare for them to take.

Her eyes closely followed her husband as he held their baby son’s hands upright, his little pudgy feet resting over his huge boot-clad ones as he led them forward. The little boy’s gurgling and laughing echoed through the wind, and she took a bite of a juicy apple while holding a book in her other hand.

They were the picture of a happy family, the stories of whom may be immortalized in songs for years to come.

He had not yet begun to walk, and his words were all a blubbering mess - but Aemond Targaryen was not known for being patient. He insisted on guiding his son to his feet so his first steps would come to him quicker, and spoke to him in High Valyrian in hopes that his first words would be in his native tongue.

Her boys had walked all the way toward her with her baby’s toes pressing onto Aemond’s feet harshly. He picked him up and held him then, and his son’s hands landed on his eyepatch. It had become his favorite little plaything these days - the boy took to wrangling it off his father’s head and swinging it with his two fat fingers until he grew tired - that was if he did not notice the sapphire first. By the Gods, if he did, he would insist on taking that off to play with too. His son, like him, had a taste for the finer things in life, it would seem.

“He’s taken well to the waters, I think,” she said. Her fondness for the little lad and her husband was evident in her face as she watched them. Her son had taken to swinging his arms in all directions, occasionally hitting his father’s face.

“Water does not mix with fire and blood. He should not be taking so well to the waters.”

“Suppose he can embrace it all then. Perhaps he’s… special.” She rose to meet her son’s eyes, leaving a kiss on his cheek. The boy smiled, a handful of his father’s alabaster hair in his hands as he pulled. Aemond winced, and she giggled.

“Zaldrītsos…” Aemond murmured, a quiet plea to his son to stop. It fell on deaf ears, but he did not mind. [Little dragon]

A maid had come to inform them that their presence was requested in the keep, and Aemond handed the boy over to her before walking back to give his wife his hand. He pressed a kiss to her knuckles and rubbed her hand with his before leading them away, their steps slow and relaxed.

“We should have another,” she said. Her smile, the source of all his content, was as bright as the sun. “You should take me tonight,” she murmured then, eyes quickly blackened by lust. He watched as the girl with childish wonder transformed into a seductress, and he lost even before he tried - defeat had never felt sweeter.

He could never deny her anything she wanted.

“Do you want me, wife?” He muttered darkly as he halted his steps, turning towards her. He held her by the waist and kissed her brow, waiting for her to respond.

“I always want you,” she murmured, eyes fluttering at the closeness of his lips. Her bright eyes sought his lilac one as the sound of the waves rippled through the air. “I also want to bear you another child. Would you like that, husband? Another little babe for us to love…”

He nodded and kissed her, pouring all his passion into it as he devoured her lips. “You do look beautiful, belly round and full with my child.”

That night, he choked her name out like an urgent prayer while he spilled into her, his peak following soon after hers. He then peppered kisses across her face and neck as the smell of sweat and coupling engulfed them, while she held onto his hair and let her hand wander over it in a soothing manner. He rubbed a hand over her belly, praying that his seed had taken. If not, he would seek her out and touch her everywhere once more - he would never be tired of her.

If another child was what she desired, then she shall have it - for how could he ever deny her?

The burns and injuries had ruined any spirit Aegon may have had as King.

He had watched his brother as he grew into a fierce protector of his family soon after being crowned. Ser Criston had made clear the dangers that they posed to Rhaenyra with their very existence, and it was all Aegon needed to grow into his role as the rightful monarch. However, he had gotten ahead of himself and underestimated his skills as a dragonriding fighter and gotten himself hurt.

Aemond’s role as Prince Regent was something that he slid into seamlessly - he had always known that he was the better fit for the throne after all. His first action was to ensure the safety of his own wife, Helaena and her three children.

“They’ve been moved to our father’s old chambers. Deep in the Holdfast, far away from any possible intru-”

“I know where the chambers are, Aemond. Will you shut up? You’re giving me a headache.” Aegon interrupted, words slurred as he sipped on Arbor Red. The wine sloshed in the cup as it moved in his unsteady hands.

His eyes were trained on his brother, a tired and tested man who was now incharge of running a Kingdom. Aegon knew that the crown was heavy, but it did not compare to the weight of the world that Aemond always carried on his shoulders. It only seemed to have gotten worse since his son’s death and his wife’s isolation.

“Does she fare any better?”

“No.” It is all Aemond wishes to say on the matter.

While he may not want to speak of the family he had lost, Aemond knew that he would protect those he was left with every breath in his body if need be. He may not have been there for his little boy, but he would die before he let a hair on any of his remaining family members’ heads be touched. The regret of being an inadequate husband and father pricked at him like the heat from the bright blaze of the fire in the hearth, and he walked out with purpose.

He knew where he was going next. After all, his feet always carried him to her at nightfall.

When Aemond came home dripping wet from the rain that had drenched him at Storm’s End, he was convinced that he had ruined everything good that he had. He could not imagine a simple scratch on his little boy without feeling angered - how could he expect Rhaenyra to simply accept her son’s death?

He had to get them safe. He had to keep them safe. He had to keep them safe. Safe, safe, safe.

She had just left the babe with the nursemaid and come to their chambers to find a moment of quiet before her son’s inevitable crying began again. Her eyes widened when she opened the door to find her husband completely drenched, looking like he was inviting death with open arms. He may as well have.

“Aemond..” She rushed to him immediately, hands going to his damp hair and clothes. “Gods did it rain on your ride back home? Let me fetch you some clean clothes and something to dry yourself with.” He reached out to her before she could go too far, and she gasped at how cold his touch was.

It was always warm, and tonight it was not.

“Stay, please.”

“I need you to put on something warm first, Aemond. You’ll catch a chill.”

She was too distracted by his wet state to notice the tears mixed with the raindrops. He said nothing as she walked away and brought back fresh garb for him to change into. She quietly bade that he raise his arms and he obeyed, not having the strength to do anything else. Slowly, each garment fell with a wet thwack to the floor and she took to wiping all the water off of him.

His grave silence unnerved her immensely, and she knew something was wrong. She would wait for him to say it.

She dressed him in a linen undershirt and breeches and took him to his beloved chair by the fire, in hopes that it would warm him up and encourage him to tell her of what plagued him. He sat in silence for a long while as she sat cross-legged on the floor, her forehead leaning on one of his thighs while her finger drew mindless patterns on the other.

His hand always reached for her hair when they sat like this, but tonight, that was not the case. She looked up at him with inquiring eyes, and as he caught her vision with his one eye, he did not have the heart to tell her what he had done, but he had to.

“I killed Lucerys Velaryon.” His voice is hoarse and the words are choked out with difficulty, and while the weight of his actions hit him hard, it was harder to watch his sweet wife’s concerned face morph into something else entirely.

“What?”

“He was sent as an envoy. I only meant…” He gulped, and the tears fell freely once more.

She quickly lifted herself up and straddled him, holding his face in both her hands. Her fingers caught every tear that fell in quick succession. “Tell me, go on.”

“I only meant to scare him. I need you to believe me, I did not mean to kill him.”

Her husband was a proud man, and it made her stomach churn to see him sound so broken. She feared that she may not like what she was about to hear, but she had promised to be his other half for all his life, and now he needed her.

He may be fearsome, but he was not a cold-blooded murderer. He did not mean to kill him - but how much weight did his intent hold, now that the boy was dead?

“I believe you. Go on.”

“The dragons…” He let out a hoarse breath and she continued to wipe at his tears with the tips of her thumbs - softness that he right now felt very undeserving of. “Arrax breathed fire at Vhagar and she retaliated, she bit into the dragon’s neck and Luke fell, so did Arrax.”

She felt light headed with worry. How could she stomach the thought of a young boy falling to his death from the skies? How could she, when she was a mother to a little boy herself?

His uncle, Daemon, was going to come for them, Aemond was sure of that. But he could not bring himself to think of much else as he watched his wife digest all that he had told her, never once ceasing to remind him that she believed him, even if nobody else would.

When they rose, Aemond’s anger knew no bounds. The possible consequences ran through his mind as he pushed his desk onto the floor with brute force. The sharp edges of her vanity had drawn blood from the back of his hand as he moved in frustration, and she was quick to hold onto him and remind him of her presence. He was not alone, he had her.

“Take me. Take it out on me.” Aemond could not think straight, and she could not bear to see him hurt himself, any more than he already has. It is this very thought that drives her to take his hand and lay it upon her clothed chest.

He took her from behind that night, hands clutching onto her bouncing breasts. Every string that was stretched had snapped with each rough thrust into her, the sounds of skin slapping skin somehow seeming too rough that night. “We’re going to be fine, wife,” he groaned - and she did not know whom he was trying to placate - her, or himself?

“I will keep you safe, the both of you.”

When he was done with her, she was left looking ragged with dried tear tracks on her face. He wanted to apologize - it seemed as though he hurt everything he touched, and after his now dead Stong nephew, his own sweet wife was his latest victim.

She held him between her breasts that night as they both wept, at a loss for words at what he had done. She did not know how to comfort him or rid him of the guilt or paranoia that his mind now played host to.

What she did know is that her husband needed her, and that she was not going anywhere. So when he suggested sending her and their son away, fearing for her safety, she begged him to let her stand by his side.

“If something were to happen to me, there would be nobody to protect you and our boy.”

“If something were to happen to you, our son and I would much rather follow you than brave many years alone.”

He reluctantly gave in, thinking that an increased guard and his constant presence around them would be enough to keep them unharmed.

How wrong he was.

He had walked away only for a moment.

His wife had wanted to eat some cake during the night - he suspected that she was with child again. Little did he know that it was the last moment of their happy marriage. The sight that he had walked back into was something that would never fail to haunt him.

Dead guards, a whole litany of them. His wife in her bloodied white shift, holding onto their son’s decapitated body. All the light in her eyes had dimmed as he stood frozen in place, his eye widened at the harrowing sight before him.

She wailed as she clutched the corpse to her chest, with no care for the injuries on her own body, or the blood of their babe that was now mixed in with her own.

“My boy, my precious boy…”

The rest of the royal family soon followed and his mother pulled her away from the babe’s lifeless body. He fell to the floor with no one to hold him, and Aemond could do nothing but watch. Aegon’s angry calls for his nephew’s head to be brought back along with the killers slipped into one ear and slipped out the other, and he went numb as he realized that the consequences of his actions had caught up to him.

Him, he could understand. But his sweet wife, his little son? What had they done?

A son for a son.

The rational part of his mind would have argued that Luke’s death probably left Rhaenyra feeling the same tragedy that he was faced with - but he was anything but rational in that moment. His fists clenched as his knuckles met the wall, and Aegon had to physically restrain him from walking out to catch the rats himself.

“She needs you. She needs you. She needs you. Listen to me, Aemond!”

Helaena had collapsed onto the chair entirely, repeating ominous words that he did not register at all.

“Blood and Cheese. Blood and Cheese. Blood and Cheese.”

Aegon had gone to join in the hunt for his nephew’s killers, and she kept rocking herself back and forth at the sight of the blood that now painted the walls and floors of her brother’s chambers until she was led away. Aemond stood, all alone in a pool of his son’s and wife’s blood.

When the Silent Sisters were led into the chamber by his grandfather, Aemond froze. His wife had held their lifeless son to her breast as she cried, but he could not bring himself to look at him, much less touch him.

Hours later, with patches of his own son's blood soaked through his clothes, he had gone to see her. He held her in his arms as she sobbed through the night, trying to push him away with each firm hit to his chest. Aemond shushed her over and over to no avail, holding her closer each time she tried to separate herself from him. Sometime during that night, her eyes had become lifeless; a deep abyss. The sight of it finally drove him to tears too, with his good eye becoming a glistening violet ring floating in a sea of angry red.

They say madness is a slow disease, and that nobody truly knows when it begins. They were wrong. Aemond Targaryen knew very well the exact moment when the madness had sunk its claws into his wife.

It was right then as he held her, comforting her and apologizing like a madman for tainting her life with his presence.

The moonlight diverged through the stained glass windows that directly faced the room where she now resided. She had been kept in these chambers before their wedding, and she often spoke of how beautiful the lights were when they fell directly onto the corridors, reflecting the colors of the glass that they slid through. He wondered if she still thought the same. He wondered if she even looked.

In the day that followed their son’s death, they had burned their little boy and watched as his body was wheeled around the streets of King’s Landing for their benefit. Aemond had wanted to retch then, but he held his wife tight as the people empathized with the kind princess whose time as a doting mother had been brutally cut short.

She fared worse - she looked dead in her eyes, and he was sure she was lost on the inside too. He did not know if she even sensed his hold on her as she kept muttering their dead boy’s name in a series of weak whimpers.

Two days later, she had lost their second child. He held her from behind and rocked her gently as the blood flowed from between her thighs for hours, the babe coming out in clumps of bloodied skin, having never drawn breath. Every moment of his wife’s torture plagued Aemond’s existence, and he questioned his abilities as a protector while grieving his son and his unborn child all alone.

The Gods were cruel to him in their games. They made him watch as his son’s life was taken, and they took bits of his wife’s mind and soul with each passing day. He supposed that this was the hand that kinslayers were dealt.

It was a slow death for Aemond, and it had begun the day his son was killed. Now he had to watch as his once vivacious wife completely lost hold over all her senses, and lived in a world where he could not reach her.

On some days, she would receive him with love, as though his presence in her life had not destroyed her completely. He would be able to revel in her touch once more, if only to simply be able to remind himself that she was still alive - in body, if not soul. He missed her, his wife, his woman, his entire heart. But his actions had killed her from the inside - did he have a right to his yearning anymore? He did not want to know, for he feared that he may not like the answer.

On other days, she would be the complete embodiment of madness. She would fight the maesters and scream at them, begging for them to let her die and throw herself off the window. She would pull at her beautiful hair, blame him continuously and shriek, mourning the loss of their child.

When she was done, she'd lower her voice and murmur words into the air. Speaking to no one in particular, almost like a ghost, she'd fidget with her dress and say, "His body twitched after they hurt him. My baby boy suffered. Oh, my boy!"

He may not have wielded the knife that removed his head, but his actions caused it. He may as well have killed his son himself. Guilt was not an emotion that Aemond Targaryen knew well as a boy, but it was all he now knew as a grown man.

She would bawl and cry at him to go away. She would scream at him to leave her alone, and blame him for killing her children - and rightfully so. And though it pricked at his heart, he would come back every night.

He wonders how she is feeling tonight. He wishes she was ignorant and unaware, for he is desperate for her touch, her company. It has been weeks. He is brought back to reality when the Maester’s gown billows behind him in the night wind.

“Your Grace.” he bows.

“How is she?”

“Somewhat calmed tonight and not lucid, my prince.” The old man sighs before continuing. “The Princess continues to ask for her little prince. We have given her milk of the poppy, so she may fall asleep soon enough.”

“Hm.”

He is mildly relieved to hear that she is not herself tonight - for it allows him to relive some of their happier days.

In his hand is a book - Ten Thousand Ships, the very one that he had gifted her. He dismisses the maester and his stewards follow behind him. Aemond walks into the room with his mind steeled, ready to be brave - for himself and for her.

“Husband! Come, come!” Her cheery voice is not quite hers, and it unnerves Aemond - her words are not from her heart, and it takes everything in him to not fall to his knees and apologize once more for what he has done to her. “The Maester said our boy’s learning to walk! Did you see him? I was promised that you would bring him tonight! Where is he?”

Gone, where we cannot see him, he wants to say. But how could he, without wanting to throw himself at her feet in regret? “He is tired. All that walking has exhausted him.”

“I suppose, yes! They tried to force me to take that vile concoction once more tonight, I managed to push it away and evade them! Look!” His gaze follows her hand and sees the spilled milk of the poppy on the floor. His wife was a calm and steady woman, and now she was behaving like a child and mistreating maesters.

I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.

“You should not do that, wife. It is not proper.”

He holds her hand and kisses her knuckles, before leaning his head back to look at her. Her hair has not been combed today, and he gently turns her around to run his fingers through her hair, digits trembling at touching her once more. She could come to at any moment and remember who had caused her such distress, and then she would cry until he walked away - the very real possibility rakes at Aemond, so he remains prepared for her to push him away any time now.

I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.

"I know. I drank it the second time. I'm sorry."

He then turns her back to face him and notices the dark rims around her empty eyes. He sighs and lets out a long, heavy breath. If he was drunk enough and she was unaware, he would fool himself into thinking that they were alright. But they aren’t.

“It is time to go to bed, wife. Will you come with me?” I love you, I miss you and I am sorry. Will you come back to me? Please?

He kisses both her eyelids and leads her to the bed in her shift. He gently helps her lay down, following her immediately as he lays next to her. She leans into his hold seamlessly and he tightens his arm around her - it hurts him how despite her madness, her penchant to seek out his touch never changes.

He takes the book from the bedside table, and she squeals. “Will you read to me tonight, husband? I do love it when you read to me. Perhaps a quiet moment between the both of us before the maids bring our son back? You know how he makes a fuss and refuses to give us a moment of quiet!” She laughs, and Aemond holds his tears back once more.

“Of course.” He kisses her temple.

He begins reading and the dry sounds of his throat lull her to sleep in his arms as he rakes his fingers through her hair. When she has completely drifted away from him, he allows himself a moment of thought and kisses her on the lips - watching as she murmurs his name.

He had taken her to wife, and sworn to protect her from any harm that may come her way. In the end, the only one she had to be protected from, was himself. He failed her, and now, he would not rest until he picked up all the pieces and put her back together.

When morning comes, she may still be unconscious of her surroundings and allow him some more time, or she may be lucid and scratch at his face until he leaves her alone. The uncertainty kills him, but he will allow himself to enjoy her tonight.

It was on this very day that he had kissed her for the first time, in the Sept, between the statues of the Mother and the Father. On this day, four years ago, they were married.

And on this day, he continues to read to her because she had asked, even when she had fallen asleep - for how could he ever deny her?

BONUS CHAPTER FOR THIS FIC, HERE.

NO TAG LIST. Please follow @randomdragonfics and turn on post notifications for all my fic updates!

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cherubfae · 2 months

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Alastor's Lament || Jack Skellington!Alastor x Sally!AFAB!Reader

What if all this power as an Overlord has grown tiring for Alastor? Sure, he likes it. But can he even hope to yearn for something different? Could helping the hotel be his missing piece? Could you?

tags: gn!afab!reader, half-ragdoll!sinner!reader, Jack Skellington!Alastor, hurt/comfort, loneliness, implied abuse, blood/gore, protective!Alastor, friends to lovers

a/n: Tim Burton still has some of my favorite films and I'm also going to be working on a Victoria/Victor Al x afab!reader, so please look forward to that! ^~^ Sally's Song belongs to Disney!

From his little corner of Hell, Alastor could see the pale white moon embedded in the red sea sky from his radio tower. On a rare night where the moon could be seen so clearly, it left a deep sense of melancholy within his chest; even his dead heart ached.

All of his years as an Overlord seemed to drain him. Bartering souls had been his greatest pleasure, and sure, he was rather powerful but now that he had all this power; what was it worth to keep gaining? He was already one of the most feared. He sought out a new career path, to become Hazbin's hotelier to rehabilitate demons! It gave him a spark of interest that had been lost in him for centuries. Everything came easy to Alastor. Everything except you.

What a simply fascinating creature you were! Able to unstitch your limbs and sew them back together good as new! He considered you one of his dearest friends, a lovely thought always lingering in the back of his mind. Yet time and time again you seemed to slip away into the night before he could say anything, or even thank you for the lovely vintage wine you'd gifted him. Like a whisper in the dark, you had disappeared.

Not even Rosie had seen you. Which was growing more and more worrisome with the more the hours ticked on by. Where could you have gone? Were you alright? It was an uncommonly chilly night in Hell, thanks to an ice demon casting a spell over the lands as of recent. It was certainly no weather to be out and about in if one could help it.

The Radio Demon was aware of the unsavory living conditions you kept living with your adopted father and self-appointed 'creator' (which was wholly untrue), Dr. Twisttike, having invited you to live at the Hazbin Hotel. Even Charlie, Princess of Hell, had cordially invited you but the two were unaware of just how tightly you were bound to an over- controlling demon. One who claimed that he made you, therefore you were his.

Shaking his head, Alastor fretted over his blueprints for a new radio tower design, yet that inescapable feeling of dread continued to gnaw at his bones like a starved dog. He runs his hand over his face, down the red pinstriped suit, stopping to adjust his black buck shaped bowtie. Its glimmering red eyes blinked. This will simply not do. He needed to find you.

Hidden away, locked inside of your 'room' once more by the demon who held your chain so tightly, you weep silently to yourself. "And will he see how much he means to me?"

"Will you stop that dreadful singing?" Dr. Twisttike hissed, grasping your glowing pale blue chain and yanking you harshly. You fall to your knees, scraping your hands against the dirty concrete. Red abrasions collected on your palms, threatening to break the surface of your skin. "Your lover boy, Alastor, won't be coming for you, dear. You think you can keep up with a demon such as him? Look at yourself. You can't even keep your stitches together. Next time I make a ragdoll, I'll make one out of proper cloth and not flesh like you. All you do is cry and bleed." Clicking his tongue, he leaves you crying on the cold ground.

With your knees tucked to your chest, you sigh. That brute of a man--demon, oftentimes left you more undone than anything else did. Constantly pulling apart your stitches and not letting you put yourself back together. He almost let you catch fire a few weeks ago. Sure, none of this could kill you. But that didn't mean that it doesn't hurt when it happens.

Standing to look out your window, you hum to yourself. You could see the peak of Alastor's radio tower from here, the full moon rising behind like a great beacon. An immense sense of longing filled your body, you hoped he was looking at the same moon and feeling the same way as you. With a gasp, you slip through the partially opened gap and allow yourself to fall to the cobblestone. More abrasions and bruises from, your blood coagulating from your missing limbs.

Plucking out a needle from behind your ear, you begin to sew yourself back together, hissing softly around a particular tender area. Standing on rather wobbly feet at first until you break out into a sprint before your Overlord can know you've left. Your other arm was left behind, but you couldn't be bothered with that now. You needed to get away, heading towards the highest hill of town, near Alastor's tower.

Alastor frantically searches around town. There's still no sign of you anywhere. Dread continues to eat away at him, until he finds himself standing outside the gates of your home. The dread boils away into anger. Your sweet scent lingers in the air mixed with the scent of blood and fear. You were hurt. Bleeding. He wills himself to calm down, his claws bending through metal gates as he pushes them open with brute force.

"Ah, Alastor! Welcome, welcome, come in my dear boy!" Dr. Twisttike's serpentine tail swishes behind him, allowing the tall redhead into the cramped and dingey house.

Even for Hell's standards, the old and decrepit house was absolutely deplorable. A sulfuric musty smell hung in the air, damp with black mold and cobwebs clinging to every viable rafter.

Tension wafted through the air, Alastor's scarlet eyes turning into radio dials. In an instant, he's turned into his full demon form, mouth sewn by green stitches. A glowing green chain wraps taught around Dr. Twisttike, sending him to the ground with a harsh thud.

"Where are they?" Alastor's neck cracks at an ungodly angle, the echo of screams surrounding him. When Twisttike fails to speak, Alastor yanks the chain harshly, his heeled shoe slamming down onto the demon's claw, snapping it clean off. Black inky blood oozes from the putrid wound. "I won't ask again, good man. Where are they?"

Dr. Twisttike rasps, "Upstairs! Their bedroom! Please, stop!" Alastor snaps his fingers, the demon's limbs and extremities are bound by glowing green rope.

Alastor thunders up the spiral staircase. "My dearest! Are you here?" His eyes are frantic, wild. His ears stand alert, waiting for any sign of your lovely voice calling out to him. The only answer he receives is a perplexing silence. He rounds the corner to enter your door lies and snarls. "A cell? You keep my darling in a goddamned cell?"

Blowing the door off the hinges, Alastor surveys the small, cramped room. There's a bare bed with a single flimsy blanket and ragged old pillow. Small splatters of bloodstains stain those sheets. A tiny dresser to the right of the bed holding a single analog clock that seems to have stopped working long ago. The walls are bare of any color and character, with peeling paint and black mold scuttled around the corners of the ceiling like soot sprites. Everything he knows that you love and adore does not reflect in your room. There was no personalization, there was no you. It's uncomfortably damp. It was nothing short of a miracle that you weren't sick.

"You pitiful creature, keeping my beloved in such conditions. Why I should--," Alastor's sentence does in the back of his throat, noticing something half-hanging out the window. A dismembered arm, the thread of your stitches caught on a rusty nail. Carefully expecting it, he gently traces the stitch marks. "Hmm, it appears I have no more use for you, Dr. Twisttike."

A sickening squelch echoes throughout the house as Dr. Twisttike's body splatters all across the walls. Alastor's slithering tentacle removes itself from the corpse, shaking off the blood before retreating into his back. There isn't much left of the poor fool other than the remains of his guts and brain matter. Alastor carefully dabs his cheek free of blood, holding your severed arm close to his chest. He exits, form swallowed by darkness and shadow. Behind him, the home ignites into hellish green flames.

It did not take long for Alastor to find you. You nearly took his breath away. Your gaze is so beautiful and forlorn, sitting on a hill with the clearest view of the large full moon. The silver light casts delicate shadows against your skin as you hum a soft song to yourself. What a true, ethereal beauty you are.

"My dearest friend," rumbles Alastor, his tone a delicate purr. You stand in surprise, which quickly melts into a delicate smile. "If you don't mind, I'd like to join you by your side. Where we can gaze into the stars," Alastor gently reattached your arm, green magic carefully sewing it back on you.

"And sit together."

"Now and forever."

|| I DON'T GIVE PERMISSION FOR MY WORKS TO BE REPOSTED, RESHARED, OR EDITED. TUMBLR IS MY ONLY ACCOUNT AND THE ONLY PLACE WHERE I POST MY WRITING. ALL CHARACTERS BELONG TO THEIR RIGHTFUL OWNERS, THE STORY BELONGS TO ME. || CHERUBFAE © 2024

"For it as plain as anyone could see, we're simply meant to be." With a gentle embrace, Alastor presses his lips to yours, tugging you into his arms and off the chilly ground.

#hazbin hotel imagines #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x you #hazbin imagines #alastor x reader #hazbin alastor x reader #alastor x you #alastor imagine #cherubfae 2024

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hisui-dreamer · 2 months

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*flops* OMG RINNA THE EVENTR CONGRATS POOKS!!!!!

uhm,,,, i have a bouquet of yellow marquerite (I come soon) nd yellow pansy (i think of you often) i'd like to give to my dearest Riddle..... i was thinking maybe i have neglected my husband for far too long on my travels.

a surprise foretold

Pairing: Riddle Rosehearts x gn!reader

Synopsis: riddle misses you more than he thought possible

Tags: slight angst with happy ending, pining, reunion, domestic fluff, fluff

Word count: 958

Notes: thanks for requesting sakkakuu!!! i hope you enjoy lovesick riddle hehehe

Masterlist

flowers of choice:

yellow marguerites: i come soon

yellow pansies: i think of you often

A sigh echoed around the room.

Riddle’s attention drifted, as it often did these past weeks, his gaze fixating on the window with a glimmer of hope. Perhaps, by some stroke of luck, he might catch a glimpse of your silhouette passing by, and he could rush out to envelop you in his arms.

The past month had stretched on like an endless expanse of time, each day dragging on without your presence. Without you, his home felt like a mere shell of its former self, lacking the vibrancy and joy that you brought into every room. Every corner of the house seemed to echo with your absence, amplifying the emptiness that lingered in the air like a palpable presence.

Each morning, Riddle would awaken to the harsh reality of your absence, the cold emptiness of the bed beside him a stark contrast to the warmth he craved. He longed for the gentle touch of your hand to chase away the lingering shadows of loneliness, the comforting stretch of your arms that wrapped around him. But each day dawned with you still far away, leaving him to face the day's challenges alone. Nights were the hardest, the silence unbearable as he lay awake, his gaze forever fixed on the ceiling.

A wry smile tugged at the corners of Riddle's lips as he reflected on the depth of his need for you. It was a realization that both comforted and dismayed him, for how could it be that someone who had been a part of his life for such a relatively short time could leave such an indelible mark on his soul? He couldn't help but feel a pang of self-deprecation at his own vulnerability, acknowledging that he had become somewhat pathetic in his dependence on you. Yet, he couldn't deny the truth of his feelings; he needed you, perhaps more than he cared to admit, and he could only hope that you felt the same.

Then, unexpectedly, the doorbell shattered his train of thought, pulling him out of the depths of his reverie. With cautious hope, Riddle made his way to the door, wondering who could be on the other side. Opening it slowly, he was greeted by the sight of a deliveryman holding a bouquet of yellow flowers, their vibrant hues standing out against the dullness of his surroundings like a beacon of hope.

As he accepted the bouquet, his fingers trembled slightly with anticipation. The note attached to the flowers bore a message that sent his heart soaring.

"For my beloved Riddle, whom I miss dearly. With all my love, your dearest Rose."

Riddle studied the bouquet, his fingers delicately tracing the petals, brimming with gratitude for your thoughtful gesture. As he examined each flower with care, he couldn't help but be overwhelmed by the love and longing conveyed in your message.

Yellow marguerites and yellow pansies.

I come soon. I think of you often.

His heart skipped a beat as he deciphered the message. It was as if your voice echoed in his mind, promising your return.

Then, like a ray of sunlight breaking through the clouds, a sudden realization dawned upon him.

Today was the day. Today, you were coming home

A surge of excitement coursed through his veins, electrifying every fibre of his being. The thought of your imminent return filled him with an overwhelming sense of joy and anticipation. After a month of longing and yearning, you were finally coming back to him.

With a newfound sense of purpose, Riddle moved about the house with a sense of urgency, a flurry of activity as he meticulously tidied up every corner, ensuring that everything was perfect for your long-awaited homecoming. Furniture was rearranged with precision, pillows were fluffed to perfection, and your favourite scented candles were lit, infusing the air with a welcoming fragrance that seemed to linger long after they were lit.

And then, just as he put the finishing touches on his preparations, he heard it—the unmistakable sound of a car pulling into the driveway, followed by the familiar click of the door opening. With swift movements, Riddle quickly adjusted his hair and smoothed down the wrinkles in his clothes, and hurried to the entrance.

And there you were, standing in the doorway, as beautiful as the day he last saw you.

"Riddle!" you exclaimed as you leapt into his arms, your embrace so sudden and full of joy that he had to quickly adjust his stance to catch you. His heart swelled with love as he held you close, savouring the feeling of your warmth against him once again.

"Welcome home, my love," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion, as he pressed a tender kiss to your forehead.

You pulled back from the hug, your eyes sparkling with curiosity as you glanced around the area. "Wait, did you know I was coming home today? How? It was supposed to be a surprise!" you asked, a hint of disbelief in your voice.

Riddle's lips curved into an amused smile as he looked at you fondly. "My rose, you could not have been more obvious," he teased, poking your nose playfully.

Blushing slightly at being caught, you chuckled and shook your head in mock exasperation. "Well, I guess the surprise is ruined then," you admitted with a playful grin.

He gently guided you inside, his hand warm and comforting against yours as he led you towards the living room. "Come, I've prepared some snacks for you," he said, gesturing towards the table set with an array of treats. "Why don't you tell me more about your travels? I've been eagerly awaiting your return, my dear."

Masterlist

if you liked this post, don't forget to reblog!

#✧2k! blossoming bouquets✦#✧sakkakuu🍄✦#twstnexus #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #disney twisted wonderland #twst imagines #twst wonderland #twst x reader #riddle rosehearts x reader #riddle rosehearts #twisted wonderland riddle #twst riddle rosehearts x reader #twst riddle rosehearts #twst riddle #twst riddle x reader

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praisethegabs · 6 months

Text

B.D.S.M

Leon Kennedy x F!Mistress!Reader

synopsis: leon has a guilty pleasure, which is a deep secret no one knows. every time after a stressful mission, leon goes to this particular place to release his tension. you're too familiar with the man, already knowing what he loves. he's your favorite customer. you're his favorite mistress.

warnings: PURE SMUT. bdsm on its edge. degradation kink, praise kink, shibari, use of pet names, sex toys, sub!leon and dom!reader, handjob, edging, spanking, gaging, spanking, flogging, role-playing.

word count: 3735k

a/n: sub!leon always comes to my mind for unknown reasons. he's so fucking cute and awkward. sometimes, I don't see him as the dominant one, I think he's more of a switch. anyway, I wrote this bc I thought it would be funny to change sides (since the last smut I wrote was with dom!leon)

Leon's footsteps echoed through the corridor as he made his way back home. His mind was still reeling from the stress of the mission he had just completed. The weight of the world seemed to press down on his shoulders, and he yearned for a way to escape the constant tension that plagued him.

It was almost three in the morning, but he didn't care. Due to the nature of his job, Leon had a highly irregular schedule. His timing was inconsistent, and he did not have a set time to return home. It could be morning, afternoon, evening, or the middle of the night. Although his busy schedule demanded most of his time, Leon still had something that couldn't be postponed.

As he entered his apartment, he casually threw his leather jacket onto a chair and ran his hand through his tousled hair. The peaceful solitude of his home only intensified the profound loneliness that had settled deep within him. He needed a release, a way to forget the horrors he had witnessed. With a sigh, he reached for his phone and dialed a number that he had carefully stored in his contacts. The screen lit up, and he waited for it to ring. He felt a mixture of anticipation and relief when the call was answered.

"Hello," a sultry voice purred on the other end of the line. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

Leon's voice was filled with a mixture of longing and vulnerability as he replied, "I need to see you, Mistress."

A wicked smile played on your lips as you spoke on the other end of the line. "Of course, darling. I have just the thing to help you forget about your troubles. How soon can you come to my dungeon?"

Leon quickly checked his schedule. "I can be there in an hour," he replied.

"Perfect," you purred. "Prepare yourself and don't keep me waiting. We have much to explore, and I promise you that by the time we're done, all your worries will be left far behind."

As the call ended, Leon felt a renewed sense of anticipation and excitement. Your dungeon provides a sanctuary from the outside world, a place where he can relinquish control and seek solace in the pain and pleasure you provide. It was his escape, a way to let go of the burden he carried, if only for a few precious hours.

As Leon sipped a glass of wine, he gazed out of the window, his thoughts in turmoil. His work demanded discipline, control, and unwavering focus. Yet, it was in the realm of submission and surrender that he found the release he craved - an escape from the relentless pressure of his responsibilities.

Leon had always been a man of contradictions, and his desire for you was no exception. He wondered if his fascination with you was a reflection of his own internal struggles, a means to delve into the depths of his own desires and vulnerabilities. Guilt gnawed at him as he thought about the secrets he kept and the double life he led.

But as he replayed the memories of their encounters in his mind, he couldn't deny the intoxicating allure of your power and the blissful release it provided. It was a guilty pleasure he couldn't resist, a secret aspect of his life that provided him with a sense of liberation he couldn't find anywhere else.

You knew absolutely nothing about Leon, except for his preferences.

He always liked the rough style. As a skilled dominatrix, you know how to please a man. Since he discovered you, he has requested to become your exclusive client, and the payment he has provided is sufficient to reserve your availability exclusively for him. Fortunately, you were familiar with his schedule, so you began working mostly at night, which suited him perfectly.

You have set up an entire dungeon in your basement. It was the perfect place to meet his needs exactly as he wanted it.

At first, seeing his physique made you think he would be a great dominant. However, you eventually found out that he was more of a submissive man. Completely bent over your knees, ready to obey your commands without hesitation. Most dungeons do not permit sexual intercourse between dominants and submissives, but for him, this dynamic does not adhere to such restrictions. Since you have a dungeon in your own home, you have decided to make some slight modifications to the rules.

Obviously, you have never had sex with him, but other aspects of your relationship work just fine.

Leon's footsteps echoed through the garden as he made his way towards the entrance of his hidden sanctuary. Each step was a solemn reminder of the mission that had just been concluded. The scent of leather and candle wax hung in the air, familiar and comforting. He pushed open the unassuming door at the end of the hallway, revealing a hidden secret world beyond.

The dungeon served as a sanctuary for him, a place where he could escape the burdens of his perilous existence. His eyes quickly adjusted to the dim lighting, and there you were, dressed in black leather, waiting for him in the center of the room. Your presence commands attention; your aura is a captivating blend of power and sensuality.

"Welcome back, Kennedy," you purred, your lips curling into a mischievous grin. "You're not late; you arrived just in time."

Leon's tense shoulders relaxed as he stepped further into the dungeon, the door clicking shut behind him. He locked eyes with you, and a silent understanding passed between the two of you. He shed his jacket, the leather creaking as he tossed it aside, revealing the tension that had built up in his muscles during the mission.

You moved towards him, the sound of your heels clicking against the cold stone floor, with a devious glint in your eyes. "You look like you've had a rough day, my dear," you said, as your fingers lightly traced the contours of his jaw. "But, you know, I'm here to take care of you."

"Yes, Mistress," he nodded, closing his eyes to savor your touch and emitting a slight moan.

"Strip now," you ordered him, and stepped back to prepare the rest of the room and your toys.

The words were both a promise and a command, and Leon nodded in agreement. He needed this - the sensation of control slipping away from his grasp, the catharsis of pain and pleasure intertwined. You led him to the St. Andrew's Cross, a symbol of his shared desire for submission and domination.

With practiced ease, you secured his wrists and ankles to the cross, using leather restraints to keep him in place. Leon's heart raced, his mind focused solely on the anticipation of what would come next. The room seemed to shrink, closing in around him, leaving only the two of them and the palpable tension in the air.

You leaned in, your lips brushing against his earlobe. "What would you like today, darling?" You whispered, asking your question.

"Take me to the edge, Mistress," Leon said, gazing at you with unwavering confidence.

"Very well," you nodded in agreement. "Remember the safe word, just in case."

Leon nodded once more and prepared himself for what was about to begin. He was waiting for the first strike to experience pleasure, but nothing happened. His eyes met yours, and he felt a shiver down his spine when he noticed the smile on your face.

"Aren't you forgetting something?" You approached him seductively, holding a flogger in your hands, your nails digging into his flesh.

"I forgot my collar, Mistress," he said, his breath heavy with the sudden realization that he had forgotten the only item he was permitted to wear. "I'm sorry, Mistress."

"Oh, bunny, you know we don't accept apologies," you said, biting his earlobe. "And do you know what this means?"

Leon nodded, biting his lip. He felt the first whip strike him hard, causing him to emit a loud moan. He tightly grips the leather restraints on his wrists, and the second blow leaves a red mark on his stomach. The third strike narrowly missed his cock and you can see him trembling as each blow compels him to seek relief from the agony of your flogging.

"Please, Mistress, forgive me," Leon begs, as you continue to flog him. Another strike, another groan.

"Have you learned your lesson, bunny?" You asked, delivering another whip to him, striking harder.

“Yes, Mistress. I did” Leon almost yelled, trying helplessly to avoid your strikes. His body was already red from the flogging. "Please, I won't forget it anymore."

You stopped, letting the flog aside. You took a leather collar from the drawer and placed it around his neck. His breath was heavy, and his entire body was shaking. He was indeed enjoying the anticipation of the punishment, although he had no idea what was about to happen. You untied him from the St. Andrews Cross, and he stood there, waiting for your next command.

"Stand in the center of the room," you commanded, holding a remote. He nods, walking with his naked, red body to the center of the dungeon.

You threw a silver spreader bar in his direction, and you didn't have to say it twice. Leon secured his ankles in the spreader bar, and once he was done, he glanced at you again. Silently, you pressed the button and then shackled his wrists to a drop-down ceiling bar. Pressing the button again, he stretched his arms in the air. The bondage dungeon is filled with furniture that enables you to attach him to any object in whichever manner you please.

Now he stands completely naked, with his ankles spread apart by a spreader bar and his arms stretched in the air, wearing nothing but his collar.

You stand before him, wearing a devilish smile on your lips. Suddenly, you firmly grasp his erect penis and apply pressure. You can see tears welling up in his sapphire-blue eyes as he bites his lip and tightly grips the shackles above his head. You squeeze it harder, and he gasps, yelping in pain. You paused for a moment, observing him. Another intense squeeze, another wave of pain, and he screams out loud. You finally release his cock and he exhales with relief, tears still streaming down his cheek.

"You're nothing but a sex toy. Look at you, so miserable," you said, as you walked around him and slapped his ass. "Such a naughty boy, desperate to be humiliated, aren't you?"

"Yes, Mistress," his voice trembles as you slap his ass.

"Your purpose is to provide fuckings, am I right?" You asked again, delivering another slap to him, causing his body to jerk.

"Yes, Mistress," Leon nods again, his body jerking with each slap against his sensitive skin.

"Who owns you, fuckboy?" You stepped closer, gripping his hair firmly, causing him to emit a soft groan.

"You do, Mistress," he quickly replies, his Adam's apple bobbing rapidly up and down.

"Do I own your cock as well?" You asked again, leaving love bites on his skin.

"Yes, Mistress, you do."

You take his cock again, smacking it harder and making him yelp again. Tears were already rolling down his cheeks once more. You walk to your box of instruments and retrieve the manuscript clips. You take one clamp, gently open it, and place it over his left nipple. Carefully close the clamp, ensuring that it does not cause any pain. He tries to hold his breath and keep his mouth shut while you repeat the same process on his right nipple.

"Don't worry, I'm sure you'll bear it all night," you wink at him, and he nods silently.

Then, your hand reached his cock again and you started to masturbate him. You can see his hands tightly gripping the shackles, and his breath growing heavier with each passing second. Leon began moaning, with each moan growing louder as you continued to stimulate him with your hands. And you keep masturbating him until you know he's close.

And then, you come to a complete stop, causing him to whine out loud.

"Bad boys don't get rewarded," you said, and pressed the button to lower the ceiling bar. "Kneel."

He obeys by kneeling down. The ceiling is high enough for him to stretch his arms in the air, and you are sitting directly in front of him. You don't have to say anything; he already knows what to do. Leon crawls between your legs and opens his mouth. He bends forward, his arms stretching upward before him. The restraints are not sufficient to allow him to approach you, and observing him beg for your pussy amuses you.

"Please, Mistress, allow me to pleasure you in my mouth” he begs, his voice filled with desperation as he fights back tears, inching closer to you.

His cock twitches and aches. He's desperate to be released, to ejaculate all over his body, longing to feel your touch. You keep teasing him by not allowing him to get closer to you, making him see your wide pussy open in front of him, yet denying him the ability to touch or engage with you.

"Please, I'm begging, Mistress," he pleads again, desperately trying to reach you.

"Such a pathetic, whining boy," you said, tightly gripping his jaw in your hands.

You released his wrists and ankles, instructing him to walk towards the bondage horse. He silently obeys you and walks straight to the corner of the room. With red ropes, you tied his arms and hands behind his back. Its shape is that of a half barrel with wide ledges and wings, covered in black leather. Leon positions his knees on each wing, and you proceed to shackle him once more, ensuring that he is securely locked on the edge of the frame. His collar is attached by chains on both sides to the ceiling bar, keeping his head up and facing forward.

"What do you deserve?" you ask, as you walk around the room and pick up your flogger once more.

"To be punished, Mistress," he responds, his eyes locked on the wall in front of him.

"Why?" you asked before striking him hard.

"Because I am a bad man," Leon says, his body jerking again with the whimpering.

You smiled, satisfied, and started to whip him until his entire back was red. When you're done with his back, you move to face him, squeezing his cock again. Leon is on the verge of tears, gasping and unable to control himself. In an instant, without your command, he ejaculates onto your hand. His entire face turns red.

"Did I say you could cum?" you asked him, squeezing his sensitive cock, causing him to whine in pain once more.

"No, Mistress. I'm sorry," he begs, tears falling down his face once more.

"Privilege revoked," you hissed, walking towards your torment box. Leon is visually impaired, but he sheds tears when he senses something cold around his cock. He knows what it is. "You'll come only when I say so."

You walk back to the corner of the room after locking the chastity cage on him. When you return, Leon flinches slightly as he feels your thumb pressing against him from behind. You uses oil and you're smearing it around his anus. A finger slips, then your thumb. Another finger, he already knows what's coming.

He feels the rubber sliding inside, and he moans again. He feels the initial pain, but he's okay with it. You slide it further, allowing the oil to lubricate him internally. You pull back the toy and gently begin a rhythmic back-and-forth fucking of his ass. You have precision and an obvious regular rhythm. Leon moans, closing his eyes and feeling the helplessness of his submission. You insert the toy into him, and he can hear you pressing a button.

It starts to vibrate inside his hole.

To keep him quiet, you place a ball gag in his mouth and leave him in his current state. He is tormented by a dildo in his anus, restrained by shackles and ropes, rendering him unable to move, resist, or voice any complaints. You sit, playing with the remote control of the device in your hands, adjusting the intensity to elicit either loud moans or soft whines from him.

The cock cage on him is painful, and he is aware of it. With his already aroused state, it becomes nearly impossible for him to cum without your consent, and he is aware that this is precisely what you desire. He is unable to move, but the vibration in his ass makes his flesh to ripple. It makes him shake his body. Leon moans again, whether from the pain caused by the cage or the vibration inside his ass. He shakes his head, the only movement he can make.

You press the button, and he sighs with relief, but not completely. You pump him again a few times and stop. You thrust into him quickly and forcefully, causing him to groan and moan. After some time, there is a final push, a powerful thrust that is enough to rock the bondage horse. He moans aloud again. You walk around the corner again and gently push something metallic, cold, and smooth inside his ass. Leon feels the object and thinks it's large, expanding inside him. Then, it pops in, causing a painful stretch that makes him scream again.

"Clean it," you tell him, pointing to his white semen on the leather bondage material. You unshackle his collar from the ceiling bar and his ankles from the restraints, but keep his arms tied with the ropes.

He obediently leans over from his waist until his tongue reaches the black leather. He licks it in wide swaths, gathering all his juices from his previous unauthorized release, leaving only his saliva behind.

You can see the color of his cock. He's so hard and sensitive. When Leon finishes cleaning the bondage horse, he kneels in front of you, waiting patiently. He is clearly struggling to hold back his orgasm, but at the same time, he is on the brink of climax.

"Desperate to cum, huh?” you teased, gently stimulating his sensitive nipples, eliciting another groan from him.

"Yes, Mistress," he says, his voice shaking once more.

You sat in an armchair in front of him, your legs spread apart, offering a tantalizing view of your glistening arousal. He doesn't move, but when he sees you nod, he knows what to do. He leans closer, and you can feel his tongue on your wet, sensitive, and swollen clit. He sucks you, savoring your taste, and moaning from the pleasure mixed with the slight pain he feels on his cock. You moan and grip his hair tightly, urging him to continue sucking you.

And when you reach your orgasm, Leon has to force himself to calm down, feeling your cunt on his face. His cock is hurting and you decide to please him in the appropriate manner.

“Color” you ask him, playfully tweaking his nipple.

"Green, Mistress," he says, trembling. He's lying.

"What color is it, bunny?" you asked him again, gripping the metal of his collar.

"Yellow, Mistress," Leon shakes. The pain in his cock is excruciating.

You released his cock from the cage, and he sighed with relief, only to gasp at your touch. He was very sensitive, and you started to masturbate him again. You took your magic wand and placed it under his dick, vibrating with intense power, while your other hand moved up and down on him. Leon can't last long. He's already too close to reaching orgasm. You, on the other hand, don't care. You continue to deliberate, his rhythm becoming tense.

"Go on, be a good boy and cum for your Mistress," you said, increasing your pace on him.

The words are enough. It emanates from his core and bursts out. His thighs and red belly shuddered first, as if he were being electrocuted. Then, it surged upward, causing his entire chest to shake as he let out a guttural moan, a mixture of pain and pleasure. Afterward, you removed the clips from his nipples, and he yelped and cried again. You also removed the plug from his anus, leaving it elsewhere.

Now, you have him standing at the end of the bondage horse again, and you instruct him to bend over and protrude his ass out. You tied him with the red ropes in a different manner, and he obeys you. This time, you take a flogger to his ass, almost caressing his cheeks with its sleek leather strands. Then, it comes out of nowhere.

The brutal spank of the cane striking his ass. He screams.

You cane him again, this time on his right ass cheek. He screams again and sobs. The third strike goes again. Leon yells.

You guide him to a nearby mirror and compel him to observe the three red marks on his ass.

He's crying. You had successfully led him to his edge, but you knew when to stop. You removed the gag from his mouth and untied the ropes that had left his arms almost purple. Then, you placed a robe on him. Aftercare is important, even in this type of situation.

"Are you okay?" you asked, leading him to the sofa in the opposite corner. "I know you wanted to be on the edge, but this is dangerous. Did something happen?"

"I'm fine, thanks," Leon says softly, although his entire body is in pain. "Just... don't worry, okay? I like it when you get rough with me."

"I'm not complaining, but are you sure you're okay?" you asked, embracing him and allowing his head to rest on your chest.

"I'm fine, trust me," he chuckles.

There is a moment of silence. Usually, he doesn't stay for aftercare. He gets what he wants and then leaves, but there's something different this time. You don't say anything, you decide to give him some space. This night was heavily different from the others, and you're not sure he's really alright.

“Can we do it again?” He lifts his head so he can see you. “But this time, can you blindfold me?”

You smirk. It's time for another round.

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hoshifighting · 3 months

Note

oh my god…. seungkwan fingering …..

what about him punishing u in public after he catches u touching urself without him

Reader X Idol! Seungkwan

Word Count: 1,1k

Warnings: Smut, fingering, public sex, bathroom sex, public teasing.

The anticipation bubbled within you as you prepared to reunite with Seungkwan after his long tour. He had been away for what felt like an eternity, and the nights without him had been lonesome echoes of longing. The touch of his hands, the taste of his lips, and the way he effortlessly made your heart race were distant memories that fueled your eagerness.

Finally, the day arrived when Seungkwan returned home, tired yet excited to be back. Eager to make up for lost time, you decided to gather some friends and head to a local bar for a night of laughter and catching up. The evening promised to be a joyful reunion, a celebration of love, and shared moments.

As you arrived home from your classes, the apartment seemed unusually quiet. It took a moment for you to realize that Seungkwan was probably in the bath, freshening up after the long journey. You couldn't help but smile at the thought of seeing him, feeling the warmth of his presence enveloping you once more.

You entered the apartment to find a faint aroma of his favorite bath salts wafting through the air. the bathroom door was slightly ajar, and you could hear the sound of water running. Your heart fluttered with excitement as you imagined the joyful reunion awaiting you.

While Seungkwan indulged in the bath, you couldn't help but reminisce about the nights you spent alone, yearning for his touch. The loneliness had etched a longing in your soul, making the prospect of being with him again all the more enticing.

Unbeknownst to you, your hand absentmindedly found its way under the waistband of your shorts. the memory of Seungkwan's tender touches, the way he made you lose yourself during sex, overwhelmed your senses. A quiet sigh escaped your lips as you succumbed to the yearning that had built up during his absence, your fingers circling your clit, the arousal already dripping from your pussy.

As you lost yourself in the moment, the bathroom door creaked open, and Seungkwan emerged, a towel draped loosely around his waist. His eyes met yours, a playful smirk dancing on his lips as he took in the scene before him.

"well, someone's been missing me quite a bit, huh?"

Your cheeks flushed with embarrassment as Seungkwan's teasing comment hung in the air. Yhe surprise of being caught was enough to make you gasp, freezing in place.

"I won't let you get away with this," he declared, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

As you got ready, you couldn't help but steal glances at Seungkwan, who was now dressed and waiting for you.

The bar was alive with energy, the laughter of friends and the music creating a lively atmosphere. however, the lingering effects of Seungkwan's playful teasing had left your body feeling weak, and as you leaned against the bar.

Seungkwan, always bold and affectionate, wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you close. His lips brushed against your ear as he whispered naughty things that sent shivers down your spine. The sensation of his hips pressing against yours made your heart race, and you bit your lip nervously, trying to maintain composure.

As you waited for your drink, you looked around, hoping that the bar's lively ambiance would distract others from his bulge pressed tight on your ass. You could feel the gaze of strangers, but you chose to ignore it, savoring the closeness you had missed during Seungkwan's tour.

A sulking expression crossed your face as you shot a glance at Seungkwan, silently expressing your discomfort with his teasing. He, however, only grinned in response, his eyes glinting with mischief. Clearly enjoying the effect he had on you, he teased, "What's the matter, love? Can't handle a little excitement in public?"

The sudden urgency in Seungkwan caught you off guard as he wasted no time, steering you towards the nearest bathroom. Your back pressed against the cool surface, Seungkwan's hands worked swiftly to rid you of your jeans. The sensation of his touch after such a long separation made your legs tremble with anticipation.

Seungkwan, his desire evident, licked his fingers before skillfully working them on you. His digits getting inside of your pussy without trouble, since youre already so wet.

You couldn't help but let out a whimper that was swallowed by his kiss, capturing the sound of your pleasure. The bathroom seemed to shrink, the warmth of his mouth against yours only intensified the pleasure coursing through your veins.

The sudden fear of being caught sent a thrill through your body, and your breath hitched as the realization hit you. Just as the bathroom door seemed like it could open at any moment, Seungkwan's hand found its way to your throat, pressing gently against pressure points.

Seungkwan's lips were dangerously close to your ear, and he whispered in a low, husky voice, "Imagine if someone walked in right now, catching us like this. Would you be able to keep quiet, or would you let out those sweet little sounds you make for me?"

His grip tightened ever so slightly, a silent reminder of the control he held in that moment. "You're mine, and I want everyone to know," he continued, his voice a seductive whisper. "Let them see just how much you crave me, how much you can't resist when I touch you like this."

Seungkwan's whispered words seemed to penetrate straight to your core, weakening even the strongest resolve. The combination of his seductive voice, the pressure on your throat, and the anticipation of someone potentially entering the bathroom created a cocktail of desire that was impossible to resist. In response to his words, you arched your back from the wall, a small whimper escaping your lips as you succumbed to the pleasure building within you.

Seungkwan reveled in your reaction, his confidence evident in the devilish smirk that played on his lips. "That's it" he murmured, his voice a velvet caress against your ear. "Let them hear you, love. Show them how good I make you feel."

As your body quivered with pleasure, Seungkwan continued to exert a controlled pressure on your throat, his fingers skillfully exploring the wetness that had already pooled between your folds. The intensity of the moment reached its peak, and with a soft moan, you finally orgasmed.

You found yourself leaning on Seungkwan for support, your head resting on his shoulder. Your knees felt weak, Seungkwan, always attentive, gently helped you readjust your clothes, ensuring you looked presentable once more.

Once you were composed, Seungkwan held you close, his arms wrapped around you protectively. In the dimly lit restroom, he looked into your eyes, a soft smile playing on his lips. "God, I missed you so much," he confessed, his voice filled with sincerity.

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moonbeamwritings · 1 year

Text

making a house a home

inspired by this post *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ

pairing: hawks x gn!reader

wc: 1.3k

There’s a loneliness that clings to every surface of Keigo’s apartment. It lingers in the slight dip on one side of the couch and not the other. It stakes its claim in the one chair at his dining table that's always pulled out while the others remain unoccupied. His bed is much too big, too; cold and empty, and like so many other spots in his home, untouched on one side.

His walls are bare, save for the odd photo here and there; one frame in his bedroom, a few in the hallway, one or two on the wall in the living room. It’s a feeble attempt to prove to himself that there are people in his life, though when he racks his brain, Keigo struggles to conjure the names of anyone he considers a true friend, anyone he considers family. At the end of the day, the pictures scattered about are just that — pictures. His apartment is still empty; his heart still yearns.

Every night, with exhaustion weighing him down and a soreness in his joints, Keigo comes home to near deafening silence, to dark rooms and cold spaces. And every night, despite the ache in his ribs, he calls out a chipper, “Honey, I’m home!” A call he knows will go unanswered, like the final, resolute trill of a species on the verge of extinction.

Everything changes when he meets you.

It’s a typical morning in the middle of January, and the streets are packed despite the chill that clings to the air, despite the threat of snow, and Keigo takes the extra time to walk to the coffee place down the street from his agency instead of fly. It kills a little time, and it’s nice to let the cool air gently fill his lungs instead of whip into his face in flight.

And just as he rounds the final corner, he slams into your smaller frame. You stumble, bag toppling off your shoulder, contents spilling out and onto the sidewalk.

“Oop,” he says, steadying you on your feet before stooping down to help you collect some of your things. “Sorry about that. Wasn’t watching where I was going.”

You smile, a casual, sweet thing that makes Keigo’s face feel warm. You’re pretty. “No harm done. I wasn’t looking either.”

With the last of your stuff thrown back into your bag, you offer him one more of those pretty smiles and a kind “thank you” before you’re disappearing up the street.

Keigo lingers for a moment, watching you until you get swallowed by the crowd before he, too, turns and continues on his way. By the time he orders his coffee and his day begins in earnest, he’s forgotten all about his earlier encounter.

That is, until he’s on his lunch break. His stomach, and the ice that clings to his bones despite his jacket and thick gloves, has guided him to the nearest ramen shop, on the hunt for something warm to fill his belly. And once he’s in line, he catches sight of a familiar face — you.

“You again,” you tease, fixing him with that same, friendly grin. You lean a little closer to whisper, “Am I on some watchlist I don’t know about?”

A smirk graces his features as he ducks to whisper back conspiratorially, “Oh yeah.” He pats the pocket on the left-hand side of his coat. “Got your wanted poster right here.”

“Damn,” you mutter, lifting your free hand in mock surrender. “You got me.”

“But I’m a nice guy,” he reminds you with a resolute nod. “So I’ll at least let you eat lunch first.”

You sigh dreamily, batting your lashes at him dramatically before dropping a warm hand against his shoulder. It damn near burns a hole through his jacket, and he can feel the heat from it travel up to the tips of his ears. “You’re so kind.”

A smirk. “I try.”

The conversation lulls for only a moment as your order number gets called, and his follows shortly after. You stand shoulder to shoulder as you both scan the restaurant for an open table. It’s the lunch rush, so the place is jam-packed with patrons.

You steady your tray in a firm grip. “It looks like that’s the only table open.” Keigo follows your eyes over to a small table nestled in the corner by the window. “Do you wanna, maybe, sit together?”

Keigo knows that he should probably refuse. He can imagine the headlines and social media threads now — No. 2 Hero on a Quest for Love, Has Pro-Hero Hawks Finally Been Snatched Up? — but as he watches you shift your weight from foot to foot, eyeing him with what he can only describe as a sheepish smile, he can’t bring himself to deny you.

“Sure, lead the way.”

After that, one chance encounter leads to a dinner date one weekend and a movie date the next. Before suddenly you’re spending nights at his apartment and he’s cooking you breakfast in the morning.

It’s tough at first. Guys like him don’t usually date. They hide and work and yearn until they’ve given the universe all they have. Until there’s nothing left. Keigo’s line of work doesn’t allow him the luxury of relaxation, the comfort of being... normal. It’s a delicate balance, protecting you and spending time with you, one that takes weeks to find. But when he does, Keigo starts to feel a little less lonely. Slowly, he starts to realize just how easily you’ve wormed your way into his life, into his heart.

Your shoes fit so perfectly next to his, right by the door. You snuggle into his side on the couch, perching yourself in the chair across from his at the dinner table. Keigo finds that he sleeps so much better with you nuzzled beneath his chin, even if you try to hog the sheets. You’re occupying spaces that have never been occupied before, exploring uncharted territory.

You leave your mark on his home when your clothes start to join his in the closet, when your toothbrush sits next to his in the bathroom. You place your succulents on his windowsill and buy a fresh vase of flowers for the dining table every two weeks.

Walls that were once barren fill, and they fill quickly. “It’s sad, Keigo,” you’d told him with a pout, staring at the blank canvas that he calls his living room wall. “You deserve better than this.”

His chest floods with affection when he comes home one evening to see that you’ve set up what you call a gallery wall. A collection of different artworks and prints and photographs litter his wall, their sizes and frames varying to draw his eye to each one. They fit together like puzzle pieces.

You were right, he’d always deserved better than those barren walls, than his cold, lonely apartment. And now that you’ve shown him what warmth feels like, Keigo knows he’ll never stop clinging to it.

His favorite thing of all, though, is getting to come home to you.

“Honey, I’m home!” Keigo calls, and almost reflexively he braces for silence, one he’s grown so accustomed to, but that cursed silence never comes. Instead, the sweet, familiar sound of your voice is there to greet him.

“‘M in the kitchen!”

The smell of food wafts through the air, radiating through every corner of his apartment as Keigo approaches you. He wraps his arms around your waist and squeezes before pulling you back towards his chest.

You stop what you’re doing to lean back into his hold, curling a gentle hand under his jaw and leaning up to capture his lips with your own. When you pull away, Keigo can feel your grin against his lips. “Welcome home.”

And, oh, how his heart soars at the sound.

You’ve made his house a home, your home, and Keigo’s certain that he’ll never be able to repay you for what you’ve done for him, for how you’ve changed his life. But with you in his arms, staring up at him with adoration glimmering in your pretty eyes, Keigo decides that a gentle kiss and a soft, but earnest, “I love you” is as good a place to start as any.

#hawks x reader #hawks imagine #takami keigo x reader #takami keigo imagine #bnha x reader #mha x reader #bnha imagine #mha imagine #bnha fluff #hawks fluff #this is my first hawks fic pls be gentle

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theyhavetakenovermylife · 5 months

Text

Jungle Fantasies (18+)

2007!Leonardo x reader

Takes place before Leo becomes the Ghost of the Jungle, and before he decides to stay in South America. Leo has been in the jungle for a few weeks and just can’t stop thinking about you.

Warnings: Masturbation, descriptions of sex, gradually getting more and more desperate in nature, spelling.

------------------------------

Leonardo walked alone through the heart of the South American jungle, surrounded by the symphony of chirping insects and rustling leaves. The humid air clung to him like a second skin as he moved through the forest, the rhythmic swish of his katana cutting through the stillness of the night and the plants in his way, as he made his way to his hideout.

The jungles of South America offered a stark contrast to the urban landscape of New York City, where you, his constant muse, navigated the bustling streets. As Leonardo honed his skills under the dense canopy that made up forest above his head, he couldn't escape the persistent thoughts of you that tugged at the corners of his mind. It had only been a few weeks and he already missed you as if it had been years.

In the daytime, as the sun filtered through the lush foliage, Leonardo's training sessions were filled with the echoing memories of your laughter and the gentle brush of your fingers against his skin. The longing for the simple joys of holding you close and feeling the warmth of your embrace lingered in his every movement. It was usually with his longing he would write his letters to you. Telling you how much he was thinking about you, and how he was already dreaming of the day he would be home with you again.

But nighttime brought with it a different kind of struggle. Alone in the vast wilderness, Leonardo's thoughts took a more suggestive turn. The distant sounds of nocturnal creatures became a backdrop to his fantasies, where the intimacy he craved with you played out in his mind. And as he let those fantasies play out in his mind, he felt the growing need and longing for you. Not just in his heart and soul, but in his loins. A need that had been growing ever since he first arrived in South America, causing conflict in his mind. It was a battle between his commitment to training and the yearning for the physical connection he had left behind. It was in these moments he thought of abandoning his training, just so he could spend one more night in your bed, feeling you hug every inch of him. But Leo stayed in the jungle, determined to become the leader his brothers needed.

To cope with the loneliness and in an attempt to suppress his needs, Leonardo began to document his thoughts and feelings in a worn journal. Each page was a canvas for his emotions, a testament to the dichotomy of his desires. He sketched images of the jungle at the corners of his letters, just so he could somehow share the jungle and its wildlife with you. You in turn would do the same in your letters to him, adding small sketches of your life. But none of it stopped Leo’s longing to be with you again. It only made it stronger.

One day, as he sat on a moss-covered rock beneath a waterfall, Leonardo traced the flow of the waterfall at the bottom of his newest letter to you. The cascading water mirrored the rush of emotions within him, the sound a soothing melody that seemed to carry the whispers of your name through the dense foliage.

One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting hues of orange and pink across the sky, Leonardo retreated to the cave he had been calling home for the last few weeks. The makeshift shelter, hidden among the roots of ancient trees, became a sanctuary where his thoughts and emotions unraveled in the quiet solitude.

Inside the cave, the air was cool and damp, and the distant sounds of the jungle served as a gentle lullaby. Lying on a bed of moss, Leonardo stared up at the patch of sky visible through the entrance. The twinkling stars seemed to reflect the countless thoughts that danced in his mind, each one a testament to his longing for you.

As fatigue settled into his muscles, Leonardo closed his eyes, attempting to surrender to the embrace of sleep. However, the tranquility of the jungle only heightened his awareness of the emptiness beside him. His thoughts circled back to the intimate moments he had left behind - the shared laughter, the stolen glances, and the simple joy of having you by his side.

In the darkness of the cave, Leonardo's mind painted vivid scenes of cuddling with you. He could almost feel the softness of your presence, your warmth seeping into every crevice of his being. The imaginary touch of your fingers tracing patterns on his shell brought a comforting ache to his heart.

A sigh escaped Leonardo's lips as he yearned for the weight of your head on his plastron, the closeness that transcended the physical and delved into the realm of emotional intimacy. His mind danced on the edge of fantasy, exploring the idea of shared warmth beneath the celestial canvas of a starlit night. The gentle rise and fall of your breath and the soothing cadence of your heartbeat. Leonardo's mind drifted to the gentle caress of your fingers along the edges of his shell, a sensation that lingered in his muscle memory. As he lay on the mossy surface, thoughts of cuddling with you took on a more nuanced flavor. Leonardo envisioned the curve of your body fitting seamlessly against his, the space between you shrinking until it was nonexistent.

As Leo’s thoughts played out, he felt the need in his cloaca grow even further. Frustrated, he ran his hands over his face before casting a glance down to his crutch. Pulsating, aching to drop. How Leo wished you were there with him. Outside of his mating season, he was not used to this aching feeling. Hell, he had not had a painful mating season ever since he started dating you…

Leo closed his eyes, once again imagining you were cuddled close against his side, already naked from activities he only wished the two of you had been up to. He imagined the need in your eyes, as he pictured your hand sliding down his plastron instead of his own. As his hand got closer to his cloaca he felt himself drop, just like he had promised himself he would only drop for you.

In his mind it was your hand that held on to his erection as your lips met his. He felt the pre cum on his head, using it lather up his hand, before ever so slowly moving his hand up and down his rod. He could see and hear you in front of him, whispering and telling him how much you had missed him, all while your hand started working faster on him. He imagined that his own hand, the one that had been wrapped around you holding you to his side, made its way down your back, grabbing your ass before sliding even further, until he found your wet entrance. Your moans were clear in his mind as he played with your soaked slit, before pushing a finger into you.

You moaned out, your face falling to his shoulder and your breast pressed against his plastron. Fuck how he missed that feeling. The thought only made his hand work faster on his member. He bit his lip, holding back a moan, dreaming of your lips making their way down his front, all while he still had his finger pumping into your pussy. He could still remember the sound from last time he did so to you.

Leo buckled his hip at the thought of his member in your mouth. “Fuck…”, he breathed out, wishing he could hold onto your head so he could thrust into your mouth. If you were there with him, he would have taken you over and over again, every single day.

Leonardo turned over in the moss bed, closing his eyes, imagining you were laying beneath him, begging for him to bury his cock deep inside of you. Normally he would tease you with it, rubbing his head against your clit, even eat you out til you were almost screaming for him to fuck you. But there, alone in the cave, Leo was the one that was about to scream for you. Frantically he grinded his hips against his makeshift bed, chasing the release he had been suppressing for so long.

The moss felt nothing like you, but at that moment Leo did not care. He just wanted to cum with the picture of you in his mind, sprawled out underneath him, needing him just as much as he needed you.

Normally Leo would be whispering all sorts of dirty things to you, like how good you were taking him or what a good girl you were for him. But that was not what Leo did in that cave. He was a moaning, whimpering mess, calling out your name over and over again as he chased his high.

Leo’s head fell to where he imagined your neck would be, lightly biting onto your skin to muffle his moans. But instead of the skin of your neck, it was the skin of his upper arm.

As Leo felt his high coming closer, he imagined you holding on to his shoulders, crying out as you were about to cum. Leo felt his head spin as he was about to cum, dreaming of your high pitch moans in his ear.

Leo came unto his moss bed moaning out your name, imagining you tighten around him as you came yourself. Your expression of pleasure as clear in his head as it was the night he gave you a proper goodbye.

With shaking breath Leo turned onto his back, staring up at the cave ceiling. His member softened ever so slowly as he tried calming his breath. Leo closed his eyes once more. Normally this would be the time for aftercare. Either you and Leo would take a shower together, or you would cuddle close until you fell asleep. But in the cold damp cave none of those things felt right without you. Without your soft warm body next to him, calming down from the pleasure he had just given you.

Leo tugged himself away, getting up to do a quick cleaning of his moss bed, before getting ready to sleep for the night. As sleep claimed him, he couldn’t stop himself from dreaming about you one last time. He pictured you next to him, already asleep, hair a mess, your cheeks pink and your face at peace. The image of you nestled in the crook of his arm became the anchor that tethered him to the promise of a future where the distance would be nothing more than a fleeting memory. The day he had finished his training and would come home to you again.

207 notes · View notes

rottenrosethorns · 11 months

Note

What about sextexting with re2 (or re4) leon while he's away on a work mission??? This idea just seems so 😩if you're not comfortable with it, that's okay too!

Pairing: RE2!Leon Kennedy x afab!Reader

Genre: Sexting/Video Call AU, Smut

Synopsis: While away on a mission, Leon has a hard time getting you out of his mind and vice versa. So when calling to check up, you have other plans to fill that void of loneliness.

Word Count: 4.0K

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT; swearing, mentions of grooming, pillowfucking, dildo, blowjob, handjob, mutual masturbation, guided masturbation, lingerie, name calling (good boy, naughty boy)

A/N: Special thanks to @starcrossedreaders for this request and graciously allowing me to change it because I had poop ideas! This is based on another smut I wrote a long time ago, but I hope it’s okay! Also, im writing this as my flight got delayed so I’m at the airport for 9 HOURS, so keep your expectations low :))))

__________

- masterlist -

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“What the fuck am I doing here?”

Leon groaned into the clean pillow of his hotel bed, face buried into its plushness as he sunk further into the mattress to alleviate the ache in his bones. Within the past forty-eight hours, he’d been flown across the country, forced into a suit to play guard dog for yet another socialite event, and thrown to the wolves commonly known as the rich singles that found an attractive police officer turned security guard a fun toy to play with. Just thinking about the much older women that were more than willing to groom him into submission made him shudder as he snuggled deeper into the crisp white sheets. With events like this, Leon wished he’d been put on traffic patrol near downtown square instead.

Grumbling, Leon forced himself to sit up and glance at his phone for any notification from you. Much to his dismay, his phone was blank with not even a missed call to excite some hope into him. He couldn’t blame you though, knowing that you were still at work and couldn’t get to your phone for another few hours. Leon just wished he was back home laying in your bed with him in your arms instead of this hotel with bedding material way too stiff for his liking. But of course, his flight wouldn’t depart until tomorrow, leaving Leon to spend the entirety of his night missing you.

Peeling himself out of the bed, he hoped a hot shower would help him feel better physically. Spoiler alert, it didn’t. Huffing, Leon found himself in his original position with his face first into the sheets and the only difference being that he had wet hair now. Flopping over, he closed his eyes, exhaling heavily as he attempted to succumb to the peace that sleep offered. Unfortunately, sleep seemed to avoid him as Leon continued to lay there lifeless in silence and darkness as his mind drifted and began to daydream about you out of boredom. At least in his consciousness, Leon could be by your side in whatever scenario he desired.

In his daydream, Leon saw your pleasantly surprised smile as you greeted him at the front door of your house. Walking through the threshold, Leon felt your arms wrap about his neck and shoulders as you stood on the tips of your toes to properly embrace him. Snuggling his face into the crook of your neck, Leon smelled your freshly washed clothing which instantly soothed him, reminding him that this scent was what home felt like. Pulling back, Leon tasted the sweetness of your lips as you pressed a long, loving kiss on his desperate lips. Looking into the depths of your eyes, Leon heard your soft whispers as you confessed how much you missed and loved him while he was gone. For a while, he relished in the warmth that you provided as he moved to squeeze you tighter as if you were to dissipate any second. However, as much as he yearned at his memories, the vision of you slowly blurred and scattered as the warmth and comfort of your body against his reverted to the cold, plush pillow as the fabric scratched against the skin of his naked chest. Frustrated, Leon threw the pillow across the room, leaving the bed empty along with the loneliness of his aching heart.

After a moment of silence to gather his thoughts, Leon realized how childish he acted just because he was missing his significant other who would more than likely call him after done with work. Embarrassed with his neediness, Leon shamefully walked over to pick up the discarded pillow and went back to bed, but this time properly cuddling the pillow as if to fill the void as he continued his make-believe scenarios. Leon was well aware that a pillow could never, ever replace your comfort, but this was all he got and this would have to do for now.

When he closed his eyes again, images of your carefree smile accompanying your fit of giggles blessed Leon’s affection starved heart. Giddy with excitement, Leon snuggled closer into the pillow, pressing himself firmly into the cotton mass which happened to accidentally brush against his groin. The sensation was not at all arousing, yet the images of you contorted into something much more erotic.

Leon froze with fear as worries washed over his consciousness. If he bucked his hips, would it feel good? If it felt good, would he be confident enough to use a hotel pillow to get off to the thought of you? It wasn’t as if anyone was watching nor would anyone know what he was doing in the privacy of his single hotel room stay, but the little voice in his head reasoning how weird he would be and how embarrassing it would be if he did cum to dry humping a pillow wrecked his nerves to the core.

It was almost enough to discourage him. Almost.

Leon swore he would’ve stopped, he really, really did. But he couldn’t help but let his mind drift towards you again, but this time with your legs fully opened and waiting. The sight of your glistening pussy and the curvature of your thighs were far too much for Leon to resist. The way that you looked up at him all innocently as your cavern clenched in anticipation sent him in disarray. So much so that he didn’t even realize he’d already begun rutting into the pillow. Looking down, Leon eyed the imprint of his hard on as his cock twitched to be halfway erected. As guilty as he was, Leon’s embarrassment for being so desperate for you was easily trumped with his lewd needs.

Leon shifted himself to sit up and rest his back against the headboard. Dick in hand, Leon pumped himself, twisting and tugging in the manner that you would’ve had if you were in the room with him. Leon hated teasing himself, but you loved it. And if you were the one touching Leon right now, that meant he had to edge himself to orgasm as he interchangeably bounced between jerking his fully hardened cock to adding hints of teasing squeezes along his shaft before teasing his tip.

“Fuck, yeah. Just like that, baby,” Leon scrunched his brows as if your memory would brighten behind his eyelids. He watched as your hands worked all along him, smearing his precum to lubricate the rest of his touch starved dick. He continued building the momentum of his fantasy for a few more minutes before his crave for release begged him to change his rhythm. Obeying his needs, Leon swiftly flipped himself over, using one hand to fold the pillow and pin it on the mattress. With the other hand, Leon guided his pulsating cock into the folds of the pillow and drove himself fully with a careful, experimental thrust.

Leon cringed with discomfort, underestimating the roughness of the fabric against the rawness of his bare dick. As much as he wanted to stop his sinful act, Leon’s desperate need for release overpowered his discomfort, thus justifying him to continue his steady ruts into the folds of the pillow. Since the pillow was not nearly as satisfying as you were – greatly due to the lack of slick wetness and warmth – Leon had plenty of time to experiment which angle and pace of thrusts felt better than other methods. Triumphantly, Leon was quick to discover that the faster he thrusted, the less he cared about the rough feeling of the fabric.

Once comfortable in pace, Leon shifted his focus back to you, specifically with your legs spread wide underneath him. He never understood how missionary was always such an underrated position. He loved seeing how much he ruined you. Whether it was the pleasurable tears prickling your lashes or biting your bottom lip in hopes of suppressing your moans, Leon wanted to see it all. There was no hiding from him, he wanted to know anything and everything about you, especially when it was about delivering you euphoric pleasure. Leon began to work up a sweat as he pounded harsher. For a brief moment, he felt himself get a little closer towards his much needed release until the overwhelming feeling of dryness paired with the rough fabric killed whatever inkling of pleasure was present.

"No, no, no, please," Leon mumbled in desperation as he sloppily rutted his hips forward. Like a starved man, Leon did everything in his power to overtake the pillow's hindrance. In his defense, Leon was so close to winning, but his desperation washed out his blurry view of you underneath him. No matter how hard he tried, Leon couldn't bring you back; therefore, indefinitely killing his mood and causing both his body and dick to fall limp in disappointment of a robbed release.

"Damn it," Leon threw the dirtied pillow somewhere across his room. It was useless for sleeping now anyways and apparently more so for fucking. Once softened, Leon redressed himself, heading straight under the covers to hide from the world and let sleep silence his embarrassing thoughts of self judgment. As usual, the lull of slumber snuffed the scattering voices in his head, offering a momentary period of peace. When he opened his eyes, Leon knew he barely got much sleep, inferring the time to be somewhere around the early morning hours based on the shadow casted room and the muffled ambiance of the city’s nightlife. He closed his eyes, dismissing whatever notification popped up on his phone to be irrelevant, yet no matter how hard he tried to go back to sleep, it seemed like sleep didn’t want him. Thus, Leon took the chance to reverse the sleepiness in his eyes and take a glance at his phone.

[ Wanna call? ]

…..

You stretched your aching muscles, wincing at the strain as your bones let out a satisfying pop. You’d just gotten home from hanging out with Claire and Rebecca for the evening. They knew how much you missed Leon while he was away, so the two of them took the liberty to invite you out after work to keep your yearning thoughts about Leon’s absence at bay. At first, the night started off fun and casual as usual, like sitting down at a nice restaurant and maybe grabbing a few drinks to release the day’s tension. However, before you could excuse yourself, Claire and Rebecca had other plans as they dragged you towards this new shop that just opened up. The only thing was that this shop was more so an adult clothing and toy store compared to the usual thrift shops you all frequented. At first, you refused to enter with them, not finding a reason to embarrass yourself while browsing for toys. You had Leon and that’s all you needed. But of course, for every argument you posed, Claire had a perfect counter argument to prove you wrong. Eventually, the two of them managed to convince you to browse the store and even offered to pay for anything that caught your eye, although you kindly rejected their offer. You swore you weren’t going to get anything, but you couldn’t help keep your eyes lingering on a sleek, not too erotic looking lingerie set on a mannequin as well as a classic clear dildo which had an uncanny resemblance to Leon. Your lingering looks did not go past the ladies as they, yet again convinced you to make the purchase. Their arguments being that it was better to have something rather than someone to keep you company while Leon was miles away.

So, with the goody bag in hand, the three of you said your goodbyes before you quickly rushed home to read up on your new toy. By the time you were done cleaning your dildo and setting it to dry, you were sure Leon was finished chaperoning the event, leading you to send a quick text. As usual, Leon’s response was instantaneous as you set up your tablet to video chat with him for the night. The outgoing ringtone hadn’t rung for a second before Leon’s tired but smiling face appeared on the screen. You fixed your hair, suddenly feeling self conscious being on camera, especially since the dildo was sitting at the corner of your eye, “It’s not too late, is it?”

As if his face weren’t already deeply etched into your memory, your eyes nervously examined every wrinkle and blemish, searching for anything that could tell you how his day had gone. You were trying to build up your confidence for the plan you’d been concocting, but first you needed to know whether or not Leon was even energetic enough to keep up with your needs.

Leon stifled a yawn, shrugging with one shoulder as if to sell his point, “Kinda, not too bad though.”

Worry washed over you as Leon stifled another yawn, but this time more poorly. You wondered if your plan to give him a show would be cut short from his exhaustion, not wanting him to push himself past his limits as tough as he was, “Am I keeping you up?”

“Never,” Leon shot you a lazy smile, tousling his already messy hair, “You can wake me up whenever.”

“Even on weekends?” You prompted with a laugh. As much as you cared for him and was worried about his sleep, you knew that Leon was most likely staying up to hear your voice even if it were only for a couple minutes. And as much as you wanted to badger him into tucking himself under the covers, you wanted to spend time with him just as much as he did with you.

“Even on weekends,” Leon hesitated once he saw the teasing smile creep onto your lips, “Okay, maybe not Sunday though.”

You both shared a quick laugh before a soft blanket of silence enclosed both ends of the call. At this rate, you’d both end up falling asleep online and you still had so much you wanted to show Leon. You piped up, forcing yourself to speak with more energy to uplift the sleepy call, “So, how was it? Boring? Exciting? Did you meet anyone famous?”

Folding your hands, you propped up your chin and tilted your face with curiosity as you patiently waited for Leon to recount his day. Much to your surprise, Leon seemed pretty vocal about this mission as he began his story with a large, exaggerated groan.

“Don’t even get me started,” Leon mumbled, “I’m sure there were famous people there, but it’s not like I could see any of them given the amount of cougars that came up to me, thinking that I was the son of some rich dude or whatever. Some of them were old enough to be my grandma!”

You giggled at Leon’s outburst, finding his mild inconvenience quite hilarious. Through your fit of laughter, you clutched your abdomen and failed to stifle the goofy smile bloomed on your lips. As much as he shuddered at the thought of the cougars, Leon was happy to see you laugh and smile from his experience. Afterall, this response was way better than having to tell you that he fought some seven foot monster determined to rip him apart limb by limb from another mission long ago.

Once settled, you wiped your tears. Looking back at the screen, you just realized how boyish he looked and how much you loved seeing him like this. Although he was tired, his droopy eyes, tangled hair, and naked chest set something off inside you, causing you to squirm in your seat as you pressed your thighs together. You weren’t trying to suppress the growing need inside you, but you needed to feel something without making it obvious. At least, not yet.

So, you decided to set the trap and wait for Leon to take the bait himself before proceeding any further, “Can’t blame them for choosing someone so handsome. I bet you looked amazing in your suit.”

“Thanks, but I only look good for one person,” Leon shot you a wink, causing you to blush but not look away, “So, what’d you do today?”

As flustered as you were, you knew that in order to perfectly execute your plan, you couldn’t waste anymore time contemplating your confidence. With this in mind, you sat back in your seat, letting your chest be put on display before moving forward with your bait, “You know, there was a store that just opened up. There was some pretty cool stuff in it.”

“Nice, what store was it? Did you get anything?”

You smiled triumphantly, now creating a perfect segway towards what you wanted, “I’ll show you, but you have to close your eyes, okay? No peeking!”

“I promise, no peeking.”

Once you knew that Leon’s eyes were fully closed, you quickly shuffled out of view and changed into that newly purchased lingerie set and grabbed your dildo. Covering up yourself again with one of Leon’s large shirts, you positioned yourself back into view, but this time you were standing instead of sitting. Checking yourself out through the feedback screen of the call, you analyzed the gather belts strapped around your thighs which peeked out below the hem of Leon’s shirt. If this wasn’t a big enough hint, you weren’t sure what would be. Taking a deep breath, you instructed, “Open your eyes.”

Without waiting for him to adjust, you started groping yourself over the shirt’s fabric, teasingly lifting up the hem to reveal the lace as you swayed your hips left to right. You had to hold back your smirk as you watched Leon get stunned into silence as his mouth slacked agape from your performance. Continuing, you stepped out to widen your stances and sway your hips lower and deeper before turning around and showing Leon your backside. Giving a little shake, you bent down even further. You didn’t have to see Leon’s face to know that he was already drooling from the sight of you.

“What- What are you doing?” Leon gulped nervously, not knowing what to expect from you nor how he should properly respond. Undoubtedly, blood was rushing towards his cock as it whined and ached for attention, but Leon was patient enough to at least find out what was going on before taking action.

You shushed him, hiking the hem of his shirt higher and biting it between your teeth, fully showing off the lacy set. You posed for a few moments as you rubbed your hands all along the sides of your body. Teasingly, you snapped the garter straps along your thighs before discarding his shirt entirely. Looking back at the screen, you tilted your head to feign innocence, “Does it look pretty?”

Leon inhaled sharply through his nose, “You look amazing. Is this what you bought today?”

“Yes,” You stretched out as if you weren’t telling the full truth, “But I got something else too.”

Leon licked his lips, eyes wide in anticipation as he wasn’t willing to miss anything that flashed across the screen, “What is it?”

“I’ll get to that soon, but first, wouldn’t you like to join me?” You began by taking one hand to pop a titty out of your bra cup and pinch your nipple, wordlessly insinuating what you were planning to show him. Catching your hints, Leon followed your lead as he sat back and repositioned the camera to capture his crotch as his hard-on poked through the fabric of his pants. Sighing at the sight of him, you took a seat again before you commanded him to undress and start touching himself as you snuck your other and to pull your underwear to the side and spread your juices to rub your clit. Obediently, Leon pulled down his pants and grabbed his cock with a firm grip, pumping as he watched your fingers trace along your nerves. Keeping one hand focused on rubbing your clit, you took your hand away from your nipples and reached over for your clear dildo. Bringing the dildo to view, you looked at the toy as if it were Leon before bringing it close to your mouth to lick a long stripe on its underside. You licked it once, twice, barely sucking in the head of the dildo before spitting on it and sliding it fully along your tongue and throat. From his fogged vision, Leon tensed as he admired the outline of the dildo imprinted behind your cheeks and wished that it were him instead.

Leon groaned with pleasure, hand tightening around his cock before his strained voice broke the lewd sounds of your lips and saliva on your dildo, “I thought you didn’t do toys.”

Taking out the dildo with a pop and a string of spit trailing from the tip, you shrugged and took the dildo back into deepthroat this time, “I miss you.”

From your half-lidded eyes, you watched as Leon pumped himself, encouraging you to elicit muffled moans around your dildo. Without missing a beat, you shoved your fingers deep into your cunt and followed the pumps of your dildo with the thrusts of your curled fingers. The microphone picked up the squelch of your sweetness as Leon’s thoughts and vision blurred with the sight of you spread out for him, “Fuck, I miss you too, baby. Keep going, keep going for me.”

Mutually agreeing to skip the foreplay, you began to match his pace, inserting your slick fingers deeper into your leaking entrance with every jerk of his wrist. Pulling the dildo out of your mouth with a crisp pop, you swirl your tongue to coat your lips with spit, letting some drip out to your chest. You took out your fingers, scooping your essence to coat the dildo before licking your hand clean. You repositioned yourself, lining up the dildo at your clenching entrance, “You ready to watch me get filled up? Are you going to wait to cum with me or are you going to be a naughty boy and selfishly chase after your own orgasm?”

Leon whimpered, forcing his hand to let go of his throbbing dick and clench the muscles of his thigh, “I’m not a naughty boy, I’ll wait. I’m a good boy. I’m a good boy, right? Have I been a good boy?”

You spread your legs wider, teasing the tip to insert in and out of you, “Have you?”

Leon bit his lip, forgetting his manners, “Please? Please let me cum, I need to see you, please, ple-”

You shushed him before inserting the dildo balls deep into you, sighing as the veins traced your walls, “Touch yourself, my good boy. I want to see us cum together.”

Like before, you matched your pace with Leon’s, fucking yourself faster than before as Leon increased his pace. On the screen, you watched as Leon’s movements became sloppier, hips now thrusting his hardened dick into his hand. The blue light emitting from his laptop illuminated his sweat coated chest, highlighting his abs beautifully. You took your bottom lip between your teeth, slightly whimpering from the rough pace you set yourself at. At this speed, you watched your cum filled pussy overflow as your liquids began to foam and drip out of you and around your dildo. From your whimpers, Leon’s moans increased in pitch, signaling that he was close to release, “You ready, baby?”

Leon hissed through gritted teeth, “Fuck yes. Please, let me cum. Please, I need you.”

“Cum for me, let me see you,” You gasped, sheathing the dildo fully inside you as you watched the sticky, white substance shoot from Leon’s tip. Your pussy clenched impossibly tighter around the dildo as you watched his cum drip from his belly button towards the base of his dick, leaving a deliciously glittering trail in its wake.

Leon breathed heavily, coming back down from his high, “That was surprising.”

“Good?” You asked nervously, wincing as you slid the dildo out of you.

Leon’s eyes lingered for a moment before softening, “More than good.”

You let out a soft, exhausted smile, “I can’t wait for you to come home.”

“Yeah,” Leon whispered sweetly, “Me too.”

#resident evil x reader #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy smut #leon scott kennedy x reader #resident evil fanfiction #leon kennedy fic #leon s kennedy fanfiction #leon s kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy smut #leon s kennedy oneshot #leon kennedy oneshot

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mitsuyaya · 5 months

Text

[ househusband’s gripe ] okkotsu yuuta

contains: 512 words. fluff, reader and yuuta are married

summary: Like all the things in this world, being a househusband has its pros and cons — and the biggest detriment in yuuta's case, is keeping you in his arms for a long time.

end note: cross posting 4/6 of my yuuta's bday bash from ao3. i just missed him sry 😔

jjk masterlist

Without any other complaints, Okkotsu Yuuta loves being a househusband.

It may be because of the simplicity of taking care of his spouse, the home he'll spend his eternity with the person he loves and his little bundles of joy, a product of his love and devotion for you. And possibly, because of how easy it is to dedicate his life, time and effort to something other than exorcising curses.

If the Okkotsu during his teenage years, one that was devoid of warmth and comfort, were to be asked – he would've never seen himself be a househusband, let alone be married to someone other than loneliness.

To be cladded with nothing but the responsibility of keeping the house stable, keeping the home the both of you would live in until your last breath, be filled with comfort, passion and serenity.

It's an unbelievable occurrence that he'll willingly do over and over again – because he knows, it's worth it. Serving you and the family he meticulously crafted is worth it.

Especially when at the end of the day, the house that was barren, that you can almost see a weed tumbling like in an old western movie, would be filled with noises he longs to hear after an exhausting day.

“Darling, I'm home! Did you miss me?”

It's your voice that'll fill the house, that'll fill the emptiness he felt the moment you stepped out of the house and bid him farewell.

But despite the contentment he feels, there's one thing he has a complaint on, there's one thing that makes him irritated — how his job as a househusband meant he can't keep you in his arms for too long.

Maki and the other's said that he's dramatic, complaining about how unfair it is for you to spend all day on your job: leaving first thing in the morning, that sometimes you two don't meet, and returning late in the evening, that oftentimes, he's already asleep.

Call him childish but honestly, he doesn't care. It's unfair, at least to him that is – all he wants is to be cuddled in your warmth or to cuddle you for as long as God would let you both. All he wants is for you to be in his line of sight all the time, to be only filled with your presence and nothing more.

Yuuta, your husband, wants time to stop the exact moment he had you in his arms. He wants it to stay that way, be interrupted by nothing and no one else. He wants to be drowned in your love and attention – it's what he deserves, it's what he needs, it's what he yearns for.

“Darling, why are you so quiet? Don't you want a hug hm?”

It is unfair, it is worth the complain,

but if it meant that it's him you'll be coming home to,

it's you he'll wait for at the front door,

it's him you'll praise for doing a good job,

it's you he'll wake up to —

“Welcome home, pretty. I miss you.”

then, he wouldn't mind, one bit.

#ੈ✩‧₊˚]. constellations #okkotsu x reader #okkotsu yuuta x reader #yuuta x reader #yuta x reader #okkotsu yuta x reader #okkotsu fluff #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jjk fluff

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gravedigginbbydoll · 5 months

Text

It's Never Just Coffee

Rockstar Eddie x F! Reader Angst Blurb

AN: Hi. I've been having a rough time lately but I cranked this one out to release some angst and pain. Inspired by Coffee by Chappell Roan (take a listen). Thanks to @eddies-house for indulging me and encouraging me to write this. Enjoy.

CW: Pain, heartbreak, sexual content, making love, allusion to being used, F!MC experiencing depression and heartbreak and anxiety, extreme loneliness, toxic relationship, repetitive cycles, angst no comfort.

You sighed, staring at your phone. Four months. It had only been four months. The stupid bright red landline was a blaring reminder of tonight; your heart squeezed at the memory of the conversation you had just a few days ago. He had been gone on tour, leaving you in your heartbreak, your sleepless nights eventually fading after three months. The pain was beginning to subside to a dull ache. Of course, as soon as the wounds began to heal, he wandered back into your life. It wasn’t like you were strong enough to say no. Despite the anger you tried to build up, all you felt was the gut-wrenching sickness of unrequited love. Of yearning. You looked back at the mirror in front of your desk, adjusting your makeup.

It’s a mistake.

We shouldn’t meet.

Not at Enzo’s.

You ignored the nagging voice in your head, your heart tugging at the idea of those soft brown eyes. The glint of his silver rings. Your hands shook as you grabbed your bag and bit your lip. You dressed up, sure. But it was just to make him realize what he lost. At least, that was what you were telling yourself.

You headed to the door, glancing around your sad and lonely studio apartment, swearing to yourself you’d come back alone.

But your heart knew it was a lie.

You walked up to the counter at Enzo’s, gave the name on the reservation, and eventually sat. You ordered a bottle of wine despite the voice in your head scolding you as to how bad of an idea it was. You sat there, feigning confidence, despite feeling like your heart was out in the open. You sip on the alcohol, recalling the last time you and him were at Enzo’s.

You were meeting his Uncle Wayne, and everything was going swimmingly. Up until he suddenly was leaving for a meeting with a producer, claiming this was ‘the one.’ You two ended up in a screaming match outside the restaurant, and he left you in the pouring rain. Wayne drove you home, apologetic over his nephew��s outburst.

You’re pulled out of the memory when a waitress comes over, asking if you are still waiting for the rest of your party. You look up, heart sinking. Of course, he was late. You nod, a sad, soft smile on your lips as you recheck your watch. The waitress gives you a sad but knowing look and leaves you be. You wait a few more minutes, sighing when it reaches thirty minutes. You’re about to leave money for the wine and leave, standing up, when a teasing voice rings through the air.

“What, couldn’t handle the idea of seeing my ugly mug again?”

You looked up, heart-stopping in its tracks. You had hoped that after all the ugliness that ensued, you would see his true colors. He’d be hideous to you. But of course, he wasn’t. His eyes were mischievous as ever, a warm shade of brown that filled you with fluttering nerves. His grin was as boyish and charming as usual, his dimples clear as day. His hair was up in a bun, messy curls framing his face. Unlike the old Eddie you knew, he wore appropriate clothes for Enzo’s and not ill-fitting borrowed button-ups from Wayne. He had an expensive watch on his wrist, a subtle marker of the changes in his life.

You smiled softly, knowing the action didn’t meet your eyes. It couldn’t. You couldn’t push down the way your heart soared at his familiar rasp, his mannerisms as he sat down, and even his stupid jokes. It hurt how you knew; you knew he had a restless leg angled out from under the table to not shake it.

You shouldn’t know so much about someone who should be a stranger.

You should leave.

But you don’t.

Eddie is nothing but charming. He buys a bottle of expensive and sweet white wine, then offers to pay for your dinner. You let him despite your gut telling you not to. He was still every bit of a storyteller, describing in detail every crazy thing that happened on the small tour. He gives updates on Corroded Coffin’s latest projects. You drink it all in, the alcohol loosening your mind and maybe your control.

Two hours later, you were still seated at the table, leaning into his every word, wishing you were here under different circumstances. He kept randomly interjecting on your gorgeous appearance, and your inebriated mind started believing his words.

You were giggling at a story he’s told about Gareth fainting at the sight of a fan’s boobs when Eddie’s face suddenly turned sincere, and he reached for your hand. You let him grab it (foolishly), eyebrows furrowed at the change in his demeanor.

“You know…I sincerely fucked up, doll. And I don’t think I ever said it…but I’m sorry. You truly deserved better.”

You blink at him a few times. Your heart seems to tug at your mind, dragging it toward Eddie, Eddie, Eddie. You smile a sad smile and wave him off, trying to be stronger than you are.

“We both made mistakes. It’s fine.”

He smiles softly at you, his eyes a bit sad, as he shakes his head.

“Yeah, but I lost the treasure. You.”

He laughs humorlessly, swirling the wine in his glass, clearly taking up after the Californian producers he was around these days, seeing as old Eddie rarely drank anything other than cheap beer.

“All because I was a fucking coward and couldn’t admit I loved- love…you.”

He looked up at you through thick lashes, his cheeks pink. Your heart felt ripped in half. Your eyes watered as you bit your trembling lip and looked away, breathing slowly. The breaths are shaky.

Eddie grasped your hand and tugged you out of the seat, leaving an absurd amount of cash on the table and helping you to the door. You felt yourself melt into his familiar touch, and your soul weep. God, you had missed the warm touch and the smell of his spicy and sweet cologne, the rumble of his laugh against your back…

He holds your hand, walking with you around town. Somehow, he makes dingy Hawkins shine so much brighter. You walk the old town square, leaning against him as he softly talks to you, voice whispering how much he missed you. You mumble back the secrets you swore you’d never spill. How much you missed him. How proud you were of him. How you were worried he would replace you with some leggy blonde in California. He laughed at that one, pecking your forehead.

You shivered in the cold Hawkins night breeze, knowing that it was not that cold, and Eddie had already draped his leather jacket over you, and it was a mistake because it would lead to-

“Wanna get out of the cold? You could show me your cute little studio.”

That.

You entered your sad apartment, still tipsy and stumbling against Eddie. You turned on the lights and feel your cheeks heat. It was embarrassing how raw this place made you feel. Eddie could see your bed…your kitchen…your bathroom. You suddenly were aware of how dangerous this was and tried to turn to Eddie to maybe give an excuse for how tired you were.

He was looking down at you, eyes full of longing, gaze on your lips. His voice was strained as he kept fighting to look into your eyes, but his own continued to drift down.

“Can I kiss you?”

You bit your lip, your stomach flipping as your heart twisted in pain, but you felt in your bones that you wanted nothing more in the world. You nodded weakly, giving in.

Eddie crashed his lips to yours, his hands cupping your face. He kissed you like he needed you for oxygen like you were intoxicating. And god, if you didn’t crave it. If you didn’t melt, bring your arms around his neck, tugging at his roots and making him moan. He continued to kiss you, and every time he pulled away for a breath, he left you breathless. He wrapped his arms around your waist, continuing to kiss you and eventually peppering kisses down your neck, mumbling how much he missed you. You whimpered and pawed at him, eyes watering. You wanted nothing more than this. This was home to you. His touch. His gaze. His warmth.

He backs you up into your bed, hands under your dress and touch burning you. He leans in to kiss you when you put a hand to his chest and pant, stopping him. He looked concerned before you gazed up at him, knowing you were opening your chest and leaving your heart vulnerable to any damage. You didn’t learn.

“Make love to me,” You whispered, voice thick with emotion.

Eddie’s gaze softened, cupping your face and leaning in to press his forehead to your own. He nodded wordlessly before kissing you and touching you gently, lifting your dress over your head. His lips were everywhere, gentle yet bruising kisses, marking you his. He mumbled how much he loves your thighs, your stomach, your shoulders…He softly touched and kissed you before letting you take off his shirt. He quickly removed his own pants to focus on you, muttering praises and making holes in your heart with every sentence.

“You’re so gorgeous.”

“I don’t deserve you.”

“I’m sorry I let you go, love.”

“I love you, I love you, I love you. I’m sorry I was too much of a coward to say it before.”

By the time he’s entered you, you’re crying softly as he kisses away tears, still muttering ‘I love you’s and holding you tenderly. He thrust into you at a slow but toe-curling pace, his forehead against you as he praised you, telling you how perfect you are for him, how good you feel, how he was stupid to let you go. You clutch at him, crying and muttering back, kissing him again and again, your heart twisting in your chest, the heartbreak unbearable.

You felt an overwhelming sensation of heartache, pleasure, and yearning all build up, your tears flowing faster as gasps and moans leave your mouth, Eddie’s breath against you, his lips at your neck. He continues to mutter how good you are for him and how good you feel, your body trembling beneath him at the confessions. Eventually, the two of you reach a high, your cries warbled in a raw throat, his grunts growing more animalistic and desperate. You felt the pressure build-up, stuttering out declarations of love over and over. Eddie chased your high with his own, tackling your mouth with bruising kisses and whispered affection.

You felt him finish in you, the familiar feeling of fullness and his release making you shudder. You laid there for a moment as he collapsed on you, staring up at the ceiling with a blurry gaze. You felt as though you were back there, briefly, before it all went downhill.

Eddie got off of you slowly, delicately kissing your nose before pulling out of you, the two of you collectively whining at the loss of contact. He got up, headed to your bathroom, and returned with a warm and damp rag, cleaning you up gently. He then threw the rag in the bathroom sink, headed to your kitchen, and grabbed you a glass of water as you shakily got up to use the restroom, heart racing. You returned to the bed, and he held the glass for you, letting you drink as he softly caressed your hair.

After a minute of quiet yet soft gazes and gentle touches, Eddie pulled on his underwear, crawling into your bed and holding you. Your heart felt like it could soar, even with all the pierced holes. You had felt your breathing slow, and your eyes grew heavy as you were lulled into a sense of security and familiarity you had longed for.

You woke up to your alarm on your phone, eyes fluttering open in confusion. You looked at the bedside table, your alarm clock flashing in the dim room. The sun was just peaking through the windows, the light making you slowly wake up. Your memory was jolted with the reminder of Eddie, Eddie, in your bed. But as you had stretched, glancing over to the other side of the bed, it was empty. You sat up slowly, head swimming with confusion and heart sinking increasingly by the minute.

You glanced around before seeing the note left on your coffee table. Still naked from the night before, you get up, wrapping yourself in a robe, before grabbing the letter. You open the paper, hands shaking at the first sentence, the rest of the words swimming as a sob escapes your throat, your gut twisting as the familiar pang of heartache joins you once again.

I’m sorry.

Six months pass, holidays come and go, and friends are cautious to be gentle with you. You never told anyone what happened that night, but figured they knew. You knew it was obvious how you avoided magazines with his face plastered on them and ignored the posters and billboards for his latest tour. Dodged any reminder, including avoiding Wayne Munson’s regular Tuesday grocery trips in Hawkins, even though it required you to use more gas, as Hawkins only had one grocery store. You were extra cautious.

It was spring, the flowers blooming, and the weather was warming up. Your heart wasn’t healed by any means, but you were slowly shaking off the numbness and pain. You had been invited to Robin’s birthday, deciding to go despite the inkling feeling that something may go wrong.

You showed up at the Harrington house, and Steve greeted you with a warm hug. He ushered you into the backyard, tables set up, and people mingling. Robin tackled you with a hug, making you laugh, the sound still unfamiliar in your own ears. She was wearing a goofy paper crown that Will had made out of paper mache, the small detail making you smile.

You walked around, greeting everyone and hugging them. You were grateful that you didn’t see a familiar mop of brown curly hair, knowing he was probably busy promoting the debut album and first international tour. You slowly loosened up a bit more, chatting it up with Nancy and joking over the kids (who are now in college) and how much they’ve stayed the same despite the years. Your heart feels a little lighter.

You’re sipping on some punch with Nancy and Robin, laughing at Dustin and Mike tackling each other, their antics amusing you. You felt your heart sink when you heard a gasp, and your eyes caught a flash run through the backyard to tackle the two younger boys, the laughter clear as day. Your chest squeezed, and you turned your back to the scene, excusing yourself to the restroom.

You walked as fast as you could, breathing picking up as your body trembled. You entered the downstairs bathroom, hands clutching at the counter and biting your lip to keep it from shaking. You couldn’t fathom why he was here or who invited him and knew it was selfish to run off like that. It was Robin’s day. And you had shown up knowing he was still friends with some of your friends. You knew Nancy and Robin had been upset with him regarding the nasty breakup, but Dustin worshiped him. And you knew Steve had probably invited him, polite and friendly. No one except Nancy and Robin knew about the breakup and what happened; the ordeal was too painful and embarrassing to retell.

You breathed in and out slowly, trying to calm the wavy breaths. You needed to show him you weren’t shattered without him. That you weren’t broken to pieces. You splashed your face with cold water, thankful for the waterproof makeup you were sporting. You stayed in the bathroom a few minutes more before heading out to the backyard, ignoring him. You walked towards El, sitting with her and talking about her classes, smiling as she described her University, ignoring the intense gaze across the backyard.

You walked around, chatting and keeping your gaze away from the culprit of your heartache. You were quick to excuse yourself when he showed up to join whatever conversation you were in. By the end of the evening, you were exhausted, and your wounds were fresh. You hugged Robin and waved to the rest, heading out, thankful now that you had walked. You could maybe get some fresh air and-

“Wait.”

The hair on your neck stood up, and you turned, unable to ignore the man before you. He was more filled out, with hair in a low bun and curls less messy. New black lines joined faded ink, and his clothes seemed to fit him better. Gone were the hand-me-down clothes and small-town boy. He was still devastatingly beautiful. His eyes were smudged with black eyeliner, and a few piercings decorated his ears and nose, really elevating his look. You swallowed, faking a smile.

“Oh. Hi, Eddie.”

He gave a sheepish smile, cheeks tinged pink. “Can…I mean, can we go for a walk?”

Your smile faltered as you felt your brows pinch together, nerves picking up. “Well, I don’t-”

“Just a walk. In the small park by the middle school. I know how much you love the willows over there.”

You swallowed, trying to will the words ‘no’ out of your mouth but look at his eyes. Those brown, warm, and welcoming eyes. They were pleading. They were…your deathbed.

“Ah…Al-alright. Sure.”

He beamed at you.

You were walking together at the park, being quieter and more cautious this time. Eddie continued to charm and dazzle you, but now your wounds were better guarded. He seemed to pick up on this and frowned, brown eyes full of hurt and guilt.

“Y/N?”

You smile weakly at him, looking up politely.

“Yeah?”

He turned his entire body to you and sighed, eyes sorrowful. So…soulful.

“I- I’m sorry I fucked up. I… I thought I was doing what was best for us both. I’m a horrible man and never around, and I always leave you hanging and so- I mean, I know it’s not an excuse- But the letter- I’m sorry. I should’ve been less of a jackass. I just-” He runs a hand down his face and sighs, looking at you with sincere eyes.

“I’m a dick. I’m sorry.”

Your smile faltered. Fuck. It would’ve been easier if he ignored it. You could fester, pout, and be angry if he missed the mistake. You could walk away. You could-

“It’s fine.”

“It’s not,” He insists, eyes sincere and glassy. “I’m… I’m trying not to become my dad. I just…I lose my mind around you. You’re so beautiful and enchanting and…I always want you, doll.”

The rasp in his voice. The need. The…absolute…weakness…of you. You look up at him and smile sadly, eyes stinging with unshed tears.

“I always want you too, Eds.”

You shivered and looked up at the willow tree you two were beside, the carved wood familiar. It’s your tree. Eddie walked up, his smile bittersweet, tracing your crudely scratched initials and heart. He looked 10 years older.

“Remember this?”

You held yourself, memories flooding your brain. You tried to avoid digging a more prominent grave, knowing this would lead back to your bed again with one wrong move. You simply nod. Eddie retraced the heart, voice distant like he was chasing the memory.

“We were 16. You swore no boy would ever like you…which was ridiculous because you were adorable. But anyway…you swore they wouldn’t. And I said, ‘Why don’t we get them to pay attention? You’re off the market now! They’ll come running like dogs!’. I was, of course, lying. I just wanted to pretend you felt the same way. So I carved into this tree, making you laugh and shake your head. And it only took stupid Tommy Delwood asking you to prom two years later for me to finally get the guts to tell you I wanted the stupid tree to not be a lie.”

Your stomach twisted at the story, lip trembling. Of course, he’d tug at your heartstrings. Of course, he’d rip off your faux armor. You were crumbling with every word, every memory of what once was.

“Of course, I continued to be a coward and idiot. And…ever since losing you… I came to this tree. Everyday. Why? I don’t know. Maybe to remember an easier time. Maybe to wish I never broke your heart. Maybe I wish I never had you so I wouldn’t know how badly it hurts to lose you. I just… This is the one place that keeps me going in Hawkins.”

He looked at you, tears streaming down his face, eyes rimmed red. Your heart shattered, waves overtaking your eyes, and bitter pain filled your lungs. He smiled weakly, biting his lip.

“I’m… I’m sorry. I want to get better. I want to be better for you. That’s why I keep leaving. I’m trying to work out issues with this therapist and fix all my shitty habits and problems. I know it’s unfair, and I’m weak and keep… coming back. But I need you. I- I understand if you don’t want to see me anymore- just…give me some time?”

You felt your heart rip violently, your tears a constant flow. Thorned roses tightened around your veins and lungs, sharp tips ripping into flesh and muscle. Your lips tried to tug up with no success.

Eddie sighed in reply, pushing off the tree. His eyes were sad, and his body slumped an inch shorter. He smiled weakly.

“Let me walk you home?”

Eddie and you walked home in relatively silent steps; the only sound on the journey was your faint breaths. You reached your studio, frowning at how dark it is, the town of Hawkins eerily quiet. Against your best judgment, you open your door and let Eddie in. You don’t realize your mistake until he sits on your couch, eyes still tinged with red as you hand him a coffee just as he likes. He takes the four sugars and one cream coffee, sipping slowly. Your heart seemed to be puppeting your mouth this time around.

“It’s dark out,” You mumble.

“Y/N,” Eddie warns, eyes swimming with caution and guilt.

“You left your truck at Steve’s. He’s probably asleep.”

“Y/N,” Eddie sighed, running a hand down his face and voice strained.

You turn around and head back into your bathroom, starting to get ready for bed. Eddie’s still sipping on the coffee when you return, eyes rimmed red and glassy. He avoids your gaze.

“I don’t want to hurt you. Even if I want you… Even if I need you.”

You nod and turn out the light suddenly, getting under your covers. You smell Eddie’s aftershave and feel his arms wrap around you.

“Only a cuddle, okay?”

You nodded, breathing slowly. Maybe you were stronger.

You found yourself under Eddie minutes later, panting and clawing at his back as he pounded into you over and over for hours. He was kissing your cheeks and lips, rambling his love for you over and over, holding you tightly yet somehow tenderly. He kept making you see stars. By the end, you felt sweaty and spent like a hole in your chest was exposed.

Eddie was kind as always, cleaning you up and smiling, his demeanor less sorrowful. You two cuddled until you fell asleep and lulled off into a dreamless rest.

You woke to empty sheets, and you felt lifeless.

No note.

No goodbye.

You were a fool.

One year later, you were in California. It was fall, and the absence of the dramatic change in leaves made your stomach twist with longing. You were here for new beginnings. No more walking the graveyard of your relationship with Eddie. No more following your family blindly and being a people pleaser.

You had left in the dead of night, driving across states, surviving off of cheap dollar menus at the drive-thru. You knew Eddie spent most of his time in California, but the state wasn’t Hawkins. It was big enough that you would likely never see each other.

You could pretend like you were healed but the wounds never set right. Scars were left over your heart, and small holes were in your armor. You couldn’t hang out with any of your old friend group; too much connection to the man who ripped you to shreds. Robin and Nancy shunned Eddie and never brought him up, but you knew that wasn’t fair to them. They shouldn’t be in your silly drama regarding your love life. You distanced yourself until you left, only leaving a note to let them know you were safe and leaving for California’s warm breezes.

You had settled into a small beach town in southern California, the breezes cool and the sky blue. You were staying in a tiny house, lacking your personality. But you took it day by day, visiting shops and cafes nearby, taking long walks on the shore. Some days, just sitting by the beach and writing in a journal. You had no phone. No friends. You were a blank slate.

You were working at a small bookshop, satisfied with the slow pace of life. Some days, you’d sit full of numbness, lonely in your seclusion and voluntary exile. But then you remembered how little you knew of yourself. You couldn’t remember what life was like before him.

Your favorite color was the shade you thought looked best on Eddie. Your favorite movie was the one you’d seen together on your first date. Your favorite book was the one you had spent time and time again recalling to him. Hell, even your favorite foods or hobbies involved him in some way. It wasn’t his fault. You’d let yourself be consumed by him. He was a brilliant star, and you were engulfed in his shadow, even as young teens. You just wanted to relearn about yourself.

Sadly, fate was a cruel mistress.

You had made a new friend, a girl at your job who was bubbly and sweet and loved alternative music. She was quick to try and pull you out of your shell and take the ‘sad, mopey mystery girl’ to a show near Los Angeles. You agreed despite your gut telling you no.

Ironically, Eddie wasn’t part of the concert.

On your way back from the trip, you bumped into the new shiny celebrity that your ex-lover had become. You were scanning the shelves for a snack at a gas station with your new friend and her boyfriend. You reached for a bag of sour gummies (your favorite), only to have your hands brushed by another, only much more calloused and masculine than yours.

“Oops! My bad,” A chuckle rumbled from his chest.

Your heart sank quickly.

You’d recognize him anywhere, no matter how raspy or grown the voice sounded. You kept your gaze on your shoes, dropping your hand and trying to turn away; you mumbled out an ‘it’s fine,’ hoping he didn’t recognize you.

He stopped in his tracks.

He grabbed your hand, turning you gently as he lowered the sunglasses covering warm brown eyes. It didn’t matter that he had on sunglasses, a bun with a bandana covering his signature curls, or even that he was at a gas station that was a speck on a map. He was still him.

“Y/n?” He asked, voice raw with emotion, eyes swimming with sorrow and longing.

“Steve told me you disappeared. Just left a note, and… no one’s heard from you. I visited. Couldn’t get anyone to tell me where you’d gone- I…,” He swallowed, eyes glassy as he continued to look you up and down. You felt the first bout of fear, sorrow, and desperate longing that you swore off months ago. You were glad for the emotions, but…you almost wanted the numb loneliness and hurt to sink back into your bones. You didn’t think your heart could take another wound.

“I, I just can’t believe you’re here… Ar-are you okay? Is everything okay? I-” He stopped his rambling momentarily, breathing and sighing, soft tears rolling down his cheeks. Your heart squeezed as your mind raced.

No. No. Not again. We cannot do this again.

“I…Can we go get coffee or somet-something? Everyone’s worried sick and- I know I don’t deserve- but…,” He was wringing his hands and fidgeting with his rings, a nervous habit he had since he was a teen. “I just-”

Your heart was racing as you smiled sadly. You felt your mouth open as you willed the words out, your insides twisting in sorrow and your heart seeming to sink below the ground. But somehow, your mind took control. For once, you left him speechless.

“It’s never just coffee, though, is it?”

Eddie stared at you in shock, eyes knowing and shoulders slumping as his tears flowed still, brows pinched. You smiled sadly and waved softly, heading out the door with your friend and climbing into the car. You leaned your head against the window, staring at the rundown building, Eddie staring out the window through the aisle. Your heart seemed to sink deeper as your stomach twisted, but some of you felt lighter.

No more mourning. No more giving everything to get nothing in return.

You were on your own. But you were free.

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