A spiritual transcendence that has him uncontrollably bucking his hips in praise, languid and unstoppable, has his rolling his eyes to the top of his skull, has his fangs baring, panting. Nails digging down the meat of your thighs as he keeps pulling you closer, he murmurs more, more, more.

The sounds you make are loud. You can't control it. You can feel his cock stretch you out. That delicious combination of sting and wetness. You can feel every ridge and that prominent vein glide along the rings of your muscle everytime you move to meet his hips. He reaches you in way no one has. Not that there was anyone before him to begin with. To ride him like this will probably one of the most precious moments he'll commit to memory.

The mixture of both of your and his heat and sweat mixes and it makes your bedframe squeak. His palms trace your sides, from your bruised thighs, up your waist, traces the sides of your ribcage, your tits - he gives it a firm squeeze before pushing himself up to a sitting position. He doesn't take his eyes off of you, your face so lost in ecstasy it makes him bite his lip to muffle his growl. It almost makes his lip bleed.

It makes him salivate, the view of you, the feel of you, the heat of you, the scent, you. You. You. You.

He traces the side of your neck before he grabs your face by the chin, you open your eyes, still dazed and try to smile at him through squished cheeks, "It feels so good, baby I- haah-", you don't even finish your sentence as he plants his feet on the mattress and picks up the pace. Your head falls bsck, as far as his hold will allow and all he can see is the white of your eyes. Your glorious moans springing from your lips unabashedly and unashamed that the sound of them alone is enough to bring him to the edge.

"I know, baby... fuck... I know. " He whispers in your ear, fangs grazing the love before, crashing his lips against yours. Tongue aggressive, growling, moaning, sloppy. He nuzzles his nose behind your ear. Sucking the skin on the base of your neck. The rhythm of his hips falter and he let's out a groan and a whine, your fingers involuntarily dig on his scalp, back bending, and eyes rolling. You feel the ropes of him, warm and in spurts inside of you.

He hugs you, one large arm over your shoulders and another over your lower back as he presses you unbelievably closer. He rests his forehead against yours, panting. The cute fangs you love so much on both his upper and lower teeth teases you and you dive in for another passionate kiss. He swears you will be the death of him, "I love you so much, it's going to kill me."

"Then we'll probably be each other's cause of death. " You laugh and hug him back, your cheek mushed against his temple. You can feel him plant little pecks on your shoulder, your chest, the sidds of your bicep. It almost tickles.

"Come on big boy, let's get washed up."

A spiritual transcendence that has him uncontrollably bucking his hips in praise, languid and unstoppable, has his rolling his eyes to the top of his skull, has his fangs baring, panting. Nails digging down the meat of your thighs as he keeps pulling you closer, he murmurs more, more, more.

The sounds you make are loud. You can't control it. You can feel his cock stretch you out. That delicious combination of sting and wetness. You can feel every ridge and that prominent vein glide along the rings of your muscle everytime you move to meet his hips. He reaches you in way no one has. Not that there was anyone before him to begin with. To ride him like this will probably one of the most precious moments he'll commit to memory.

The mixture of both of your and his heat and sweat mixes and it makes your bedframe squeak. His palms trace your sides, from your bruised thighs, up your waist, traces the sides of your ribcage, your tits - he gives it a firm squeeze before pushing himself up to a sitting position. He doesn't take his eyes off of you, your face so lost in ecstasy it makes him bite his lip to muffle his growl. It almost makes his lip bleed.

It makes him salivate, the view of you, the feel of you, the heat of you, the scent, you. You. You. You.

He traces the side of your neck before he grabs your face by the chin, you open your eyes, still dazed and try to smile at him through squished cheeks, "It feels so good, baby I- haah-", you don't even finish your sentence as he plants his feet on the mattress and picks up the pace. Your head falls bsck, as far as his hold will allow and all he can see is the white of your eyes. Your glorious moans springing from your lips unabashedly and unashamed that the sound of them alone is enough to bring him to the edge.

"I know, baby... fuck... I know. " He whispers in your ear, fangs grazing the love before, crashing his lips against yours. Tongue aggressive, growling, moaning, sloppy. He nuzzles his nose behind your ear. Sucking the skin on the base of your neck. The rhythm of his hips falter and he let's out a groan and a whine, your fingers involuntarily dig on his scalp, back bending, and eyes rolling. You feel the ropes of him, warm and in spurts inside of you.

He hugs you, one large arm over your shoulders and another over your lower back as he presses you unbelievably closer. He rests his forehead against yours, panting. The cute fangs you love so much on both his upper and lower teeth teases you and you dive in for another passionate kiss. He swears you will be the death of him, "I love you so much, it's going to kill me."

"Then we'll probably be each other's cause of death. " You laugh and hug him back, your cheek mushed against his temple. You can feel him plant little pecks on your shoulder, your chest, the sidds of your bicep. It almost tickles.

"Come on big boy, let's get washed up."

A spiritual transcendence that has him uncontrollably bucking his hips in praise, languid and unstoppable, has his rolling his eyes to the top of his skull, has his fangs baring, panting. Nails digging down the meat of your thighs as he keeps pulling you closer, he murmurs more, more, more.

The sounds you make are loud. You can't control it. You can feel his cock stretch you out. That delicious combination of sting and wetness. You can feel every ridge and that prominent vein glide along the rings of your muscle everytime you move to meet his hips. He reaches you in way no one has. Not that there was anyone before him to begin with. To ride him like this will probably one of the most precious moments he'll commit to memory.

The mixture of both of your and his heat and sweat mixes and it makes your bedframe squeak. His palms trace your sides, from your bruised thighs, up your waist, traces the sides of your ribcage, your tits - he gives it a firm squeeze before pushing himself up to a sitting position. He doesn't take his eyes off of you, your face so lost in ecstasy it makes him bite his lip to muffle his growl. It almost makes his lip bleed.

It makes him salivate, the view of you, the feel of you, the heat of you, the scent, you. You. You. You.

He traces the side of your neck before he grabs your face by the chin, you open your eyes, still dazed and try to smile at him through squished cheeks, "It feels so good, baby I- haah-", you don't even finish your sentence as he plants his feet on the mattress and picks up the pace. Your head falls bsck, as far as his hold will allow and all he can see is the white of your eyes. Your glorious moans springing from your lips unabashedly and unashamed that the sound of them alone is enough to bring him to the edge.

"I know, baby... fuck... I know. " He whispers in your ear, fangs grazing the love before, crashing his lips against yours. Tongue aggressive, growling, moaning, sloppy. He nuzzles his nose behind your ear. Sucking the skin on the base of your neck. The rhythm of his hips falter and he let's out a groan and a whine, your fingers involuntarily dig on his scalp, back bending, and eyes rolling. You feel the ropes of him, warm and in spurts inside of you.

He hugs you, one large arm over your shoulders and another over your lower back as he presses you unbelievably closer. He rests his forehead against yours, panting. The cute fangs you love so much on both his upper and lower teeth teases you and you dive in for another passionate kiss. He swears you will be the death of him, "I love you so much, it's going to kill me."

"Then we'll probably be each other's cause of death. " You laugh and hug him back, your cheek mushed against his temple. You can feel him plant little pecks on your shoulder, your chest, the sidds of your bicep. It almost tickles.

"Come on big boy, let's get washed up."

The sense of familiarity washes over you, and the resentment still lingers from years ago makes its way forward. The Earl’s son, your childhood close friend, who left you without a word after he said he’d be there for you.

What a bastard

“Have you ever heard of personal space? Or have you forgotten the amount of lectures your mother ingrained into your head on etiquette when you were just a brat?” You bite back with venom coating every word you spit out. You place your fan on your left ear.

”Ah, I see.” He steps back and gives you space. “You’ve become cold-hearted towards me since my departure overseas. I was only gone for a mere moment.” He switches his position from behind you to in front of you. He takes up your whole vision, his maturity, more evident now since the last time you saw him as a juvenile boy. It's been a few years, hasn't it? Yet he still has his teasing nature; no boarding school or amount of lectures can take that away from him. He bows a little lower than he should, his right hand to the opposite shoulder and his left arm behind his back. He looks up at you with those oh-so-regretful grey eyes. “I wholeheartedly apologize for departing overseas in such an impulsive matter without even notifying you in any way. I should’ve sent you letters and a hoard of messenger doves to accompany you”. “But I did not, and for that, my Lady, I've made a significant sin in your eyes– I do not deserve your forgiveness, but oh, if you could grant me such a pleasure.”

His voice is as quiet and soft as a starving mouse stealing food from a kitchen, careful for only your ears to pick up his pleas for forgiveness. Just as though you were a goddess punishing him, which he should be reprimanded tenfold in his eyes, who was he to abandon you without a trace? Though the situation before was entirely out of his hands, he didn’t want to go to that goddamned private school that was away from you; he fought tooth and nail not to go. Every house servant had to push and hold him down because he kept fighting; even his family members were victims of his wrath. His father, The Earl, still has fading scars from that night years ago.

He should’ve fought harder for you.

People around you start noticing; who wouldn’t? One of the most prestigious Earls of this country’s only son is bowing dishonourably low, borderline grovelling like a peasant caught stealing a measly loaf of bread. You feel eyes turning onto you, women whispering between their fans to one another, wondering in what predicament the next-in-line Earl would be for him to be embarrassingly bowing to a one-of-a-mill daughter of a viscount—a rank lower than him and a woman at that; your fan placement is not making it look better. Immediately change the position of your fan from your left ear to twirling it in your left hand, hoping he understands the situation he has put not only him but you in.

 He only smiles in return. “Stand straight; You look like a fool.” You hiss, “Do I have your forgiveness, Darling?” a scoff escapes your mouth. “That is either here or there! Be proper. Others are watching.” That doesnt deter him, nor does he care about them. “So my apology wasn't sufficient? Since you are thinking about everyone else but me.” More eyes make their way onto the pair of you, and whispers grow with the exchange of gossip. “You’re acting like a child-” He cuts you off. “Shall I go on my knees for you? I mean, I wouldn’t mind, but preferably, I would love to be in a more…secluded environment.” A smirk graces his lips at the thought. “Or shall I kiss your feet-” 

“You are a soon-to-be- Earl! Has that school taught you nothing? God, you’ve become more insufferable, I swear.” Your face feels warmer now, and embarrassment takes over you from his childish yet sincere teasing.

The young lord’s eyes fixated on you, on your lips, how your dress accentuates your already perfect self, your hands, oh, how he wishes to feel them against his. The years it's been since he saw you, he could listen to you scold him for hours on end; it doesn’t matter what you are saying. Just hearing your voice is enough. God knows it's been too long since he’s been deprived of you. He thanks his past self for sabotaging whatever male decided to even think of courting you. Though he was far away, his social standing never changed.

The lord decided by the second month he was away from you to pay his old servants to send him as much information as possible on the vermins that would try to nestle their way into your life. He would…No, he has ruined anyone who wanted to get in between you two. And he’ll keep it that way. You’ve stolen his heart since meeting him as a lad.

“So you wish for me to kneel? As you wish.” He starts to kneel; gasps can be heard. But you stop him, holding his shoulders upright; his eyes widen as you touch him.

You’re so close

“I forgive you…I forgive you…”

“I forgive you, Ambrose…”

Oh…

His name on your tongue….

His mind blanks. Has he gone to heaven? Oh, you sweet angel, you have him wrapped around your finger. And he wouldn’t want it any other way.

His smile is blinding as he stands and looks down at you.

“Then now that's settled…May I have the honour of a dance with yours truly?”

.." Or shall I beg more?"

it was the exact reaction that you would expect from your husband of four years..shocked, surprised and completely taken aback by your rather unique gift. For a better lack of terms. You knew him better than anyone and although he appeared intimated or not too intrigued by the sight before him, you knew his mind was churning; ablaze with extremely salacious thoughts and desires at the moment. August first..a day that he’d normally let pass without so much as a single bit of acknowledgement but tonight, you had plans to make your man’s day extra special.

Reiner Braun, although wealthy and having amassed millions as a football star during his days as a quarterback, as well as with his many business ventures nowadays, was a man of simplicity. He preferred things to be quiet, peaceful..without too much flare. Rather than lavish parties and big events, he was out working hard, assuring that his business was functioning well, even on his special day so you decided to stay at home, 'tending to other affairs'. Used to your antics, he didn’t question it too much but while he was away, you were putting together one hell of a present..one he'd soon never forget. Standing in the doorway of the foyer, a few inches taller from the Giuseppe heels on your feet and the coat that had been covering the grandiose bombshell had fallen to the floor..allowing that khaki trench coat to pool at your ankles, you’d be revealed to be sporting sexy red lingerie, akin to that of a glazed candy apple on your smooth, brown complexion. Thick thighs and ass stretching against the thin lace fabric and mere seconds from bursting out. All the more reason to rip it off! However, that wasn’t all in store..tiny nipple clamps latched on to your perky breasts, a collar laced around your throat and decorated with a heart charm. Along with a paddle sitting on the mantle.

Little did he know, more awaited him in the bedroom..that was if he exercised the restraint to not ravage you right here!

His face was flush but burning beet red and his chest was heaving pretty fast but he had to maintain his composure. “I—uh..I don’t know what to say..”

although the two of you made love many times a week, and it was a far cry from vanilla..this by far took the cake! All of this was a sudden change. You just looked so..submissive and innocent. As if you were begging to be wrecked! "Well don't just stand there and look at me, come get your present.." the words garnering a big smile from his handsome face..mumbling something underneath his breath as he stepped forward and extended his arms out to grab ahold of you. Towering above your shorter yet thicker frame, examining you..big strong hands groping your body as he sucked his teeth profusely.

"Happy birthday, papa. What do you think?"

honestly, it was hard for him to think at all right now! Seeing you so dressed up in such slutty and salacious attire, all for him. "..I think..I’m the luckiest man alive.” Garnering a slight chuckle from you both. Cupping your face between his hands, Reiner leaned down to give you a deep, searing kiss. One indicative of how hot his desire and lust for you were burning right now. But alas, there was one more stipulation to his gift..you had but only one request for your husband: "You know how you've been saying you wanted to try all of those things you saw in those videos?..well, here's your chance. I want you to treat me like your little whore tonight..do whatever you want to me."

reaching behind your back, you’d hand him the final piece of this rather interesting ensemble and that was a leash! Red, covered in latex and what he’d be using to maneuver you around at his leisure. Something he’d probably never have suggested on his lonesome. You see, Reiner was an incredibly bashful man..despite his outwardly appearance and intimidating presence, he became flustered quite quickly. You honestly thought it was the most adorable thing you had ever seen. As you had done several times prior in the past, one night, the two of you were lying in bed, looking at some rather explicit videos..hoping to spice things up in the bedroom. As you’d come to discover, masturbating together became one of your favorite activities as of late. There was something about holding hands with your man as he guided you through your orgasm that made it ten times better.

However, there was one scene in particular that not only resonated with your beloved Reiner but stuck with him. As if the scene were permanently implanted in his memory. The woman, resembling your exact body type and look; a cute little lady..brown skin, thick with a little pudgy tummy, thighs that rubbed together and an ass that clapped with each movement, sporting an apron with nothing underneath as she ‘cleaned’ the house, waiting for the arrival of her doting husband. She had baked him a cake, which she’d then go on to allow him to lick off of her backside. You could visibly see his cock twitching at the sight of her. Not because he was more attracted but because she resembled you. It was only when the man arrived home, resembling Rei’s build and stature, along with his hair color did things get even more interesting. He’d then proceed to strip down, place the tie around her neck before ushering her to her knees and fucking her face. They’d wind up going rounds in that house..from the kitchen to the tall staircase to her riding him on the floor with her heels on. It was so filthy and disgusting and he couldn't stop thinking about it! Witnessing her be pounded, seeing her cry from the pleasure and get overstimulated until she couldn't spill another drop.

That night, he came so hard; twice in fact from that video alone, spilling warm, seeping nut all over his fingers..loud, lewd groans filling the room and it was then that your wheels began to churn. Reiner would never admit it, out of fear of rejection or even scaring or hurting you but he was into hardcore sex..dominating, controlling and even breaking his precious (y/n) had come across his mind constantly. Pumping you full of dick while you all but tried to push him back, pulling on your hair and neck as you begged for more, and especially being called daddy and sir..he had craved it. Practically salivating at the thought!

But now, there was no need to be afraid because you were all but throwing out the proposition. It was up to him to take it. Bringing his fingertips to your chained nipples, he'd rub them gently, garnering an adorable smile and lip biting from you.

"..whatever I want, right? Huh.."

"That's right…treat me however you want. Don’t hold back.” With that confirmation, he didn't want to waste another second unwrapping his present. Fixated on your supple breasts, Reiner groped them in his palms before shoving that tongue between your plump, red painted lips. He was completely enamored with your body and it was certain now that you wouldn't have any issue getting him to loosen up. Eventually, he'd end up shuffling you over to a nearby wall where he caressed and squeezed every inch of that perfect frame… faint moans escaping his throat whilst he continued feeding you those soft kisses. In a split second, you’d brought your hands up to undo his shirt and pants but he was quick to push them away, giving you strict instructions to place them by your side. "Don't fucking move...just let me handle it." You had never heard him speak with such a sharp, commanding tone. All but hissing the orders at you. It was so fucking sexy! So you’d do exactly that, and stood still as he moved those lips down to your neck, collarbone and eventually those perky nipples that had become his point of hyperfixation at the moment.

"Mmm...how cute.."

Intermittently flicking those clamps and chains to watch you tense up. Squeezing your thighs together, (y/n) released a very audible moan in response. Even shutting your eyes in hopes to feign off the sensation but it was of no use. It felt too good! But alas, he was merely getting started and soon, you’d come to find out just what this man was capable of when given free reign. Taking those callus fingertips, Reiner traced them even further south..finally leaving your tits, he’d make a trail down the center of your tummy; just lightly grazing the skin until he reached the elastic waistline of your panties. To which he’d make haste in shoving those digits in. Outlining the thin, lace material before sinking them inside of your warm heat. Eliciting a cry from you that in turn, made his cock thump behind the confines of those designer slacks. You’d even absentmindedly begin to rut yourself on those fingerpads.."Tell me, angel..is this really what you want? Because I don't plan on taking it easy..just so you know." You were full and well aware of that fact. Even so, you wanted him to use you to his full desire. Release every single debaucherous thought that plagued his mind onto you and let it out. Once he finished, you wanted to be broken..mind, body and spirit.

“I told you, baby..I'm your slut, do whatever you want to me. I can take it..promise.”

Hell, if anything, you just wanted him to stop all of this teasing and fuck you senseless already! Without another moment of hesitation, Reiner smirked and shoved two digits deep within that tight, quivering entrance and made certain you impaled yourself on them. Granted, this was nothing more than a mere warm up for the pounding that little pussy was about to take after all! Working them in and out, he'd make certain your head remained positioned straight forward, as he didn’t want those beautiful, brown eyes shifting anywhere except on him. Only seconds in, you had soaked his hand down to the wrist..letting those juices leak down to the Tom Ford button up and matching cuff links. You were already coming undone so he could only imagine what the remainder of the night would entail.

"Well, poundcake. Don't say I didn't give you fair warning..” mumbling into a low growl that seeped to your ears. “Because I plan on going all night..breaking this slutty little body for everything it has. That sweet cum, those pretty little moans and everything else I fucking want. My little whore, you said? From now on..you don't move, speak or breathe without my permission, understood?" This new side of him had you going crazy! Frothing all over the seat of those panties and whimpering for him like a helpless puppy. Finally, his fingering would come to an abrupt halt which left your needy cunt spasming on thin air. Once he removed them, he'd bring them up, only to shove them into your mouth roughly. “Lick them clean. Taste yourself and don’t leave a single drop.” The force of his thrashing around between your jaws causes you to emit a slight gag when he takes them to the back of your throat.

"And you answer me with only daddy or sir, got it?"

you weren’t exactly sure what was coming but all you could know for certain was that you had seemingly awoken one hell of a monster! Had you truly bitten off more than you could chew?

"Yes, daddy..."

those round doe eyes fixated on him with such an innocent glare. It was then that you’d find yourself gasping sharply as he clenched your jaw. A faint smile cracking through his lips..almost devious in a way. But just as quickly, he’d place a couple kisses atop your forehead and a few pats to your chubby cheek. "Good girl..now let's get these off." In a sudden swift movement, he'd rip that latex lingerie from your body as if it were constructed of nothing more than sheets of paper. Each article and layer falling to the flooring and pooling around you guys’ feet. Leaving you only with the corset piece, fishnets and leash around your neck. And of course those tall, clear heels. Next were his own and without so much as single care for the cost, Reiner tore the button down from his skin. Revealing those chiseled abs, all while unbuckling his pants in the process. That bulge in them had grown excessively large and honestly, he had no more restraint to tease you. He wanted some action himself! So once he freed that hard dick from its confines and bridged the gap between your bodies, he’d hoist your legs within his grasp and place your back against the wall for quick leverage, as to execute his next move. “This is gonna be fun..”

Seconds later, he was instructing you to wrap your arms around his neck for support and them around his waist. Even though he was more than culpable of supporting you with his own strength. Parting those legs, he’d expose your dripping slit and freshly waxed, fat pussy to the cool air; aligning himself with your soaking slit.

"Ooh..baby, what am I going to do with you?..."

That voice dropped to a low growl as he teased that sensitive tip against your folds. Drumming up more of that silky slick that was drooling out of that cunt. Slowly but surely, he'd ease it inside and stuff you full of that dick. The initial sensation makes you both writhe in pleasure. Before your moans could even fully escape your mouth, he'd meet them with his own and resume those deep kisses. Swarming the inside of your jaws with sloppy pecks and an exchange of saliva..even spitting into it to further lubricate. Whereas he'd be whimpering into the crook of your neck, moaning your name as a sign of pure submission, this was a whole other side to Reiner. One you had never seen but wish had awoken sooner.

"Fuck!..so good."

there was a certain intensity in his eyes, one that scared and aroused you simultaneously..fucking you into a state of trembling with only a few strokes in as you dripped down his shaft. But this angle and the way he so precisely penetrated your g-spot, you’d find yourself clawing your nails into his back whilst he impaled you on his dick. All eight and a half inches of thick girth stretching you open..akin to a piece of elastic. "That's right, you don't need to do anything else..just hold onto me and let me pound that little pussy." Your body gliding up and down the wall; jolted with every thrust and meeting his every movement. It was almost as if you were weightless within his arms. “Shit! Right there…” Your nails ripping into his shoulder blades, holding on with all the strength you had but it was of no use. He had rendered you practically useless and dumb. Nothing more than a mere flashlight for his pleasure.

"Look at you..taking this fucking dick like a good whore. You liked being fucked all rough, don't you? Answer me.”

"Yes, daddy! Give me more, please. Fuck my pussy!” Meanwhile, your little cunny could barely contain him, no matter how far he delved and how deep he pressed, it kept slipping out of that wetness. Just from those few minutes alone, those walls had been beaten sore and throbbed profusely. However, that wasn't going to stop him from fucking you senseless or making you clamp down on his shaft. Those balls rested idly against your bubbly asscheeks after slapping against them..plus,hearing you beg only further fueled his desire.

sounds of smacking skin and loud cries erupted throughout the foyer. Although he loved the noises that pretty little pussy made each time he slammed inside of it, he came to an abrupt halt. "Get on the floor, right now." Whether it was his own lack of restraint or the fact that he truly did want to take you beyond your limits today, Reiner stopped abruptly before placing you to your feet.

that long cock still erect and dripping with your juices; the tip glowing red from how sensitive it was. One hard brush and he would probably begin spurting cum. He’d stroke the shaft whilst reaching for the leash and eventually the top of your head. With an extended palm, Reiner reached over and laid a few smacks to your cheek. Instructing you to stick your tongue out and glance up at him. “Good girl..sit there on your knees until I tell you otherwise.” He needed a few seconds to decide his next move. Seeing you in such a state had his mental all fucked up. Having this much power to use you at his disposal and seeing you lose every bit of your morals just to please him made this man absolutely feral.

panting heavily, Reiner ripped the shirt off entirely. He’d then proceed to undo and coil the red necktie around his knuckles. It seemed as if his lightbulb was flashing and he had constructed a rather interesting idea. "..hands up over your head, sweetheart. Don't make me fucking wait."

Without fuss or haste, you’d raise your arms up to the wall and await his instructions. You were positioned on your knees with them spread apart to where he could visibly see that little slit drooling with slickness. That clit protruding out and waiting to be rubbed. You’d give anything to have it touched at the moment but you’d have to wait. Emitting a loud gulp, you’d hope that your lovely husband would feel compelled to somewhat tone it down and have mercy but it would seem that you had ignited quite a dormant spark inside of him. The gentle, attentive man that had always handled you with care was no more, at least for the time being. Finally, he’d retrieve that leash placed on the mantle and once he clipped it on, he’d clutch it with a vice grip. "I'm going to enjoy fucking that cute little face of yours..those lips always look so pretty wrapped around my dick. Open wide.” Tilting your head back on his command. Just seconds later, he'd lean down and spit into your quivering mouth; the sensation making you throb and melt within his grasp. That saliva trailed between your lips, down to your tongue and in turn, earned him the cutest expression with a bright smile. "Thank you, daddy."

the name causes a direct reaction from your shaft; throbbing upon hearing your voice. He couldn’t help it when you were being so gracious and eager to serve him. This was already the best birthday ever and it had only begun! Stretching those jaws, Reiner would depress your tongue with a couple fingers; as would a doctor to a patient and watch that uvula jump and the back of your mouth gape and flex as it awaited the chance to be filled. That was more than enough room and he’d waste no time in filling that empty oral cavity. “Perfect, don’t move.” With that, you’d find your empty mouth stuffed full of that swollen member. Pumped and fucked without any regard to your esophagus or breathing. Reiner would just ever so carelessly buck his hips forward as if you were nothing more than a mere sex doll. That was until you started seeping strings of clear fluid all over his shaft and tip, bringing out vibrations with your gagging and moaning. Keeping one hand on your bound wrists to keep them in place and the other on his leash, Reiner maneuvered you like a well oiled machine. Letting every liquid you emitted drip onto those marble floors. Thrusting with full force as he rutted those hips..so desperately trying to maintain his pace because you felt that damn good. Because you were not at liberty to do so, he’d alternate between his dick and those full, swollen balls; stuffing your mouth with them in exchange for jerking himself.

“That’s right. Clean me up, bitch…taste that pretty pussy and keep those eyes on me when you do it.”

he’d feed your heavy slaps to the face as his tip rested in the side of your jaw..pressing into your skin. He had zero remorse at the moment and if being used in this manner is what you wanted, he was more than happy to oblige! When his hand no longer sufficed, he’d pop that cock back into your mouth and continue relentlessly fucking your skull until that forehead pressed to his abs and you were rendered breathless. Perhaps what was most impressive to him was how you took it without so much as gagging or showing resistance. Not to mention that you battled those lashes at him while you did so. If he wasn’t careful, you’d have him spurting cum all down your throat. But he had plans to fill you up so he’d refrain. Where you were rendered unable to be vocal, Reiner certainly filled that void and let out the loudest, grovely grunts. Meanwhile, strings of saliva were pooling from the corners of your mouth and your face had a dumbed out expression..exactly as he wanted it. “It’s like you don’t even need to breathe, baby. I love you..I love how nasty you get for me..” that deep voice resonating throughout your body. But for how warm and inviting those silk like jaws felt, he was becoming rather greedy. He needed to explore more of that perfect figure…from this pretty mouth, to that dripping core and especially, that big round ass. Which had quite the surprise waiting for him. “C’mere, mama. I’m not done with you..not yet.”

reluctantly pulling out, Reiner suddenly tugged your head around with a firm grasp, returning the favor of that sloppy head with an equally messy makeout session. It was apparent by the smile on your face that you were enjoying this just as much! That’s when he’d lower your hands, untying them and command you to plant those palms to the floor, where you were made to crawl towards him. Resembling that of a cute little pup or a sexy lynx, your husband began stepping backwards before waving a finger towards you. He was leading you to the staircase, hoping to reenact that infamous scene that inspired this entire ordeal. Even then, on your hands and knees, you were enticing him. Finally, you’d find yourself stationed against those stairs, where Reiner would fling you up to the railing and raise your leg so that he could finally get inside of you. That’s when he’d find a hidden gem…literally and figuratively. A heart shaped, jeweled anal plug stuffed between those thick cheeks that were glistening with baby oil you had previously doused yourself in. Making it look even better..lighting up with excitement, Reiner would start to smirk and chuckle, spreading them apart as he watched that tight bundle of nerves flex around that metal. “Oh my gosh..” mumbling in a low growl, admiring the beautiful view. For now though, he needed some of that soaking core.

“…pretty pussy’s so fat..I know she’s wet f’r me, baby. Go ahead, bend over…” biting and licking his lips with a faint smirk. He couldn’t believe how blessed he was to have the finest woman on the planet! Balancing on those heels, (y/n) looked back whilst arching that back..bouncing in the process so that he could get a clear view of those plump lips. “Yes, just like that, baby..it looks so good.” “Thank you, daddy.” Getting more and more aroused each time you uttered that name. Placing his thumb atop that plug, he’d push it in a little further as his index teased that protruding clit, that caused you to whimper in response. “That feel good, poundcake? Ya’ like when I touch on that clit? You can answer..”

and of course, it was a given how you felt.

“Yes sir, so fucking good…please fuck me—“ but just like that, he’d halt you in your tracks by tugging on your leash and spanking your ass to silence you. “Hey, I didn't give you permission to start begging, not yet at least..” Just then, he’d place a hand in the center of your back before grabbing himself at the base and slapping that cock up against those clammy folds. He wanted to keep you waiting..punish you for your unauthorized outburst the fact was, he lacked resolve himself so seconds later..

“No…I need you to take this dick. All of it..and maybe..just maybe if you ask nicely..” you’d find yourself impaled on him and stuffed full, causing your face to go wide with shock. “I’ll let you come.” A result of both holes being filled to the brim. He didn’t even give you a chance to recuperate or adjust..he’d go full throttle. Thrusting into you once more after already abusing that little cunt once before. Needless to say, you probably wouldn’t be moving for a day or so after this but it’d be well worth it! You loved the sensation..the thrill and rush that came with being used like this. Every day could be his birthday if he treated you like this! Deep strokes made home inside of your core as his pace increased. That leg draped over the sides began to shake uncontrollably but as a way to quell you, he’d gently rub it. He was trying to have a bit of balance amid the chaos; a touch of subtlety with his rough treatment. Your body was already sore with pain and pleasure. Marked up by both his lips and hands..all signs of how obsessed he was with you. Going deeper and deeper, reaching that fated g-spot, Reiner tugged your head back and yet again spat into your mouth, trying to maintain some semblance of control. Because truthfully, he was reaching his peak. He knew the second he resumed fucking you, he’d lose his mind and rhythm. Suddenly, his thrusts would become sporadic and he’d start hammering into your spot; clapping that flesh against his pelvis and filling that million dollar mansion with raunchy noises. Getting as raw and unhinged as you two pleased. It was a private party and he’d enjoy every single second of it.

“Harder! Please..I’m so—“ although you were breaking the rules, you couldn’t help yourself as that climax grew near. You had been holding back..restraining yourself from releasing all over him but right now, you couldn’t be vexed!

“Can I come, daddy? Please, can I come for you?!”

Crying with your eyes squeezed shut and tears streaming down your face. Your body was set ablaze…burning with desire and right now, he wanted to add the fuel! Spreading that ass apart, your husband kept thrusting, grinding those hips to the hilt as he buried every inch until that tip began to kiss your cervix. That aching warmth was all but stretched. However, it wouldn’t be the only orifice to be pounded into oblivion. “Since you've been so good..let it go. Right now. Come on this fucking dick..you little slut.” And the second he gave you the green light, it were as if the floodgates opened and a shower of your sweet squirt littered the porcelain steps. He had never seen a thing like it! At that moment, you couldn’t stop. Just an absolute wreck of orgasmic bliss. “F-fuck! Oh fuck, oh fuck—“ banging your previously bound hands against the stairwell. There was no time to recuperate or for either of you to gather your bearings because Reiner was pulsating something fierce and there was nowhere he’d allow that seed to end up other than your womb. Only seconds later, you’d find yourself impaled again and his hard erection thrashing around inside of you.

“What? You thought we were finished? What did I say, pound cake? Not yet..” unable to even compute a reaction, you’d end frozen for a full minute..stuck from that post climatic high. He didn’t have time to wait for your recovery. Not even a full minute later, you felt the grasp on your hips tighten; nails clawing into that soft flesh as Reiner’s breath caught in the back of his throat. “Shit!—coming..FUCK!” Shouting out with all his might. It was then that hot strings of creamy semen began to pour into that needy womb. And not in the form of a few droplets..no, you were being knotted with thick ropes. Ensuring that not one drop would seep out. However, if you thought that would be enough to soothe his salacious appetite and stop him, you’d be wrong. Because he had one more opening to explore before calling it quits. Even though you looked terribly spent and hell, he was getting a little lightheaded himself, he couldn’t stop until you both collapsed. Keeping that back bent to an angle and that leg outstretched, (y/n) felt that plug be removed from your second entrance and hear the metal plop to the floor…only to find that he had..replaced it with something else. But that much was obvious when you all but collapsed from that cock stretching you open. With his face flushed red, Reiner would let out a somewhat maniacal laugh. It was apparent that he was running off of pure adrenaline and addiction. Unable to cease until he claimed every inch of it and unraveled you.

“Take it…don’t tell me that little plug was just for show now. You were getting it ready f’r me. So I could fuck every part of this little body.” Practically hissing at you whilst tugging you back into hard, sporadic strokes. He still had a bit left in the chamber, surprisingly but he wasn’t going to maintain that pace for long because you were way too tight; clutching him at every movement. Even with the help of that toy, you weren’t quite conformed to his shape. Even so, he made it his mission to conquer it and break you as he had promised. He was well on his way because now, you were full blown fucked to tears…crying and pleading for him to come in you once more. He had gotten his point across and you loved the pain far too much to want him to stop. But you knew your body couldn’t withstand this brutal fucking. “P—please..come—ahh..” letting out a shrill whimper and pathetic cries. Your nails barely even graze the wood that you had a vice grip on earlier. Despite the fact that you had initiated this, he knew you’d never know when to quit and seeing as how that spasming bundle of nerves was determined to drain him dry, he’d grant you permission one last time to let go..

“On three..together. You know what to do..”

and like that, the two of you ascended to the highest peak together. Howling to the ceiling and shrieking each other's names as you spilled another puddle and poured the remainder of that nut into you..

“F-fuck..you’re so full..so goddamn full of my nut.”

“Yes, come in this ass, daddy..thank you so much.”

reaching back to stroke the side of his face before collapsing to your knees, where you trembled violently. All a result of the insane lovemaking that had just transpired. As one final act of submission, you’d run your tongue along his thigh, swiping up any remnant of those juices you let out all over him, before sticking your tongue out like an obedient dog. How could he possibly ask for a better gift than this?! Grasping your chin, Reiner leaned down with tears of his own plaguing his hazel eyes and shoved his tongue in your mouth. As if he didn’t want to let go. “Thank you, baby..thank you for the best fucking gift ever..”

and there was no way this day could ever be outclassed for as long as he lived!

.･*:｡.･*:｡.･*:｡.･*:｡.･*:｡.･*:｡.･*:｡.･*:｡.･*:｡.･*:｡.･*: .･*:｡.･*:｡.･

So when the confident, smooth-talking guy gets you in his bedroom, how the hell is it possible that he is trembling from pleasure just from slipping his tip in?

"Fuck, I c-can’t—" he groans, his voice breaking as he stumbles over the words. His usual cool demeanor is completely shattered, replaced with breathless gasps and desperate sounds. His head is thrown back, neck taut, and his eyes are screwed shut like he’s trying to hold onto every ounce of composure, terrified that if he opens them, the mind-numbing pleasure coursing through him will slip away. Every time your pussy squeezes around his aching dick his body trembles uncontrollably, muscles tensing and relaxing in waves as he tries to keep himself together.

"Look at me," you coo, your voice steady despite the pounding of your own heart. You may be practically a virgin, but you're by no means an idiot. Hours of reading smut, scrolling through Twitter porn threads, and indulging in endless fantasies have taught you more than you'd ever admit. You've spent too many nights alone, lost in stories and scenes where you imagined yourself in control, learning every filthy detail in your mind until it felt like second nature. So now, laying here with him unraveling over you, you're anything but inexperienced.

He locks eyes with you, big and desperate and you cup his perfect face with trembling hands.

"You're mine tonight ok?" you whisper, bringing him in just enough for your breath to tickle his lips, your voice low and dripping with confidence you didn't know you had. "Every sound, every breath—your mine."

"F-fuck, y-yeah I'm yours" he groans, accentuating his words with a sharp thrust right into your cervix, knocking the wind out of you.

"Mmm!" You cry. It’s painful, but in the pain is so much pleasure. He presses his forehead against yours as he slides in and out of you, gripping the sheets with his supporting hand as your hot, wet entrance swallows his cock. Instinctively, you're cunt squeezed around the foreign intrusion, trying to push it out, making him let out a low groan of his own as he thrusts even deeper into you. 

“Y/n I-I can feel you doing it to me,” he says hoarsely.

His fingers gently press into the skin of your hip, guiding and steadying you as he pulls back and thrusts into you. The sudden friction and collision with your G-spot makes your brain go fuzzy. Ticklish pleasure courses through your veins and you immediately throw your head back against the wall as he rams into you.

"Hnghh, s-so good~~" You whine. It was dizzying, the curvature of his dick digging itself against your g-spot, scraping against your vaginal walls every time he backed his hips up.

Simultaneously, his other hand sought yours, finding it with a purposeful tenderness. His fingers intertwined with yours, locking them together in a grip that was both a clasp and a caress.

"Were we doing it like this in your head baby?" He grunts, his Adam apple bobs as he groans from the pleasure of how fucking heavenly your pussy feels. "Because this is how we were doing it in mine." He felt good? Try euphoric. How could it be possible that pussy feels this good?

You can't even open your mouth to respond. The friction of his dick against your walls is just too good and as his pace intensified, a dizzying warmth spread through you, filling every corner of your being with a euphoric haze. The sensation of being completely enveloped, utterly connected, sent electric flesh arrows of pleasure through your body, making your eyes flutter and roll back slightly in sheer bliss. Every motion he makes, every time his fat tip collides with your cervix, leaves behind a trail of sparkling heat that seems to light you from within.

And of course, no one expects the weird girl to be a squirter.

You don't know whats happening and you don't have enough to warn him. Release washed over you in an all-encompassing wave, radiating out from your core to the very tips of your fingers and toes. It swept through you like a storm, leaving a trail of starbursts in its wake. Your body arched instinctively, clinging to him as the wave crested, then gently, slowly, began to ebb.

He stills his motion and watches through wide eyes as clear liquid sprays onto his abdomen and you tremble and moan. As you floated back down from the heights of bliss, your breath came easier, softer, the lingering aftershocks of pleasure pulsing gently through you.

"Why did you stop?" You whisper.

Sukuna, Gojo Satoru, Geto Suguru, Toji Fushiguro

Once you were far enough, you let go of Jinwoo and let a out a breath of relieve. “You don’t need to go back there, right?

He shrugged, an easy smile playing on his lips. “Not really my thing.”

“Right,” You cleared your throat and turn around, walking in the direction of your house in this world.

“I really don’t understand why did you drag me along. It’s not like there’s a dungeon nearby.”

He chuckled softly while following you, “You make it sound like I always forced you to join me.”

You gave him a pointed look. “Don’t you?”

Jinwoo tilted his head slightly, feigning innocence. “Maybe.”

You sighed, “You’re enjoying this too much.”

Jinwoo didn’t respond right away, but the corner of his lips quirked up in that faint, teasing smile of his. He took a step closer, close enough that your back could feel the heat radiating from him.

“You don’t like it?”

You blinked, surprised by the question—and by the sudden closeness.

The back of your neck felt warm.

Before you could think of a reply, the system chimed in.

Only for you to shot an exasperated look at the invisible interface.

[Dear, Trial Player (Name)_

How adorable you are!]

You really just want to go home right now.

___

Ever since arriving in the world of Solo Leveling and realizing your knack for healing—and occasionally harming—through magic, you’d made it a point to stay discreet.

As far as you knew, there were only three mentioned S-rank healers in the manhwa.

Two of them ended up dead.

You wanted to stay low-key. A C-rank hunter with a mild skillset was much easier to hide in the crowd.

That had always been your plan.

But ever since someone—no names necessary, but you could definitely point fingers—had dragged you into his life, that had become increasingly difficult. Especially now, when Jinwoo had just been reevaluated as Korea’s 10th S-rank hunter.

It had been a few days since then.

Everywhere he went, eyes were glued to him. The media swarmed him. Admirers, reporters, other hunters, and even government officials were desperate to get a piece of the newly minted S-rank, and—unfortunately for you—his close proximity to you meant that more often than not, those eyes fell on you as well.

“Isn’t that Hunter Sung’s teammate?” you heard someone whisper as you passed a group of reporters.

“I’ve seen her with him a lot lately,” another murmured.

You kept your head low, hoping no one would bother you. But it wasn’t long before a couple of curious fans caught sight of you, phones in hand.

“Excuse me, miss? Are you part of Hunter Sung Jinwoo’s guild?” one of them asked, eyes wide with excitement.

You froze for a second, trying to maintain your composure. “Uh, no, not really,” you mumbled, inching backward. “Just... around, I guess.”

Before the fans could press further, a voice interrupted, smooth and calm.

“Is everything all right here?” Jinwoo appeared at your side as if materializing from the shadows, his presence instantly commanding attention. He glanced at the fans, who quickly became flustered and scurried away with murmured apologies.

You let out a relieved sigh, but when you turned to Jinwoo, you could see it—the subtle amusement in his eyes. His lips twitched ever so slightly, as if he was trying not to smile.

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” you accused, narrowing your eyes at him.

“Enjoying what?” Jinwoo asked innocently, though his tone betrayed him.

“This. Me getting dragged into the spotlight because of you. You know I hate it, and yet—!.” You crossed your arms, giving him a look that you hoped conveyed just how done you were with the whole situation.

Jinwoo shrugged, though there was a gleam in his grey eyes. “You’re not exactly making it easy for yourself by sticking around me all the time.”

“You’re the one who keeps dragging me into things!” you huffed, exasperated. “I didn’t ask for any of this attention.”

Jinwoo’s lips curved into a barely concealed smile. “Is that so?”

You glared at him, feeling that familiar sense of déjà vu.

He’d always had this way of nudging you into situations where you’d have to stay close to him. Whether it was battles, raids, or even mundane activities like going grocery shopping, he always seemed to find an excuse to keep you around.

Lately, though, it had become... more frequent.

You were already part of his every raid, now he was insisting you to join him on seemingly random outings, or just appearing at your side when you least expected it.

___

You had never been one for the spotlight.

Hate, you think, was too strong of a word to be used to describe your overall view of fame.

Most of the time, you just felt uneasy.

Sure, there were upsides to it—more money, more respect—but the downsides?

Fans had already started whispering about you, speculating who you were, while the more cynical ones cast suspicious looks your way. Some of them even accused you of riding Jinwoo’s coattails.

The attention, the scrutiny, the whispers of speculation about who you were and what your relationship with Jinwoo might be. It sent a cold shiver down your spine just thinking about the implications.

It was bad enough being noticed by the public, but what really made your skin crawl was the idea of anyone digging deeper. If anyone ever found out the truth—that you were far stronger than your rank suggested, a False Ranker—the mere thought of it happening kept you up at night.

Your uncanny power. Your real identity.

These secrets became your very own Pandora’s box.

A nightmare waiting to happen.

So now, as you stood a few steps behind Jinwoo who calmly answered questions from yet another reporter, you found yourself fidgeting with the hem of your sleeves, trying your best to disappear into the background.

Which was hard, considering how often people kept glancing your way.

You couldn’t help but recoil slightly, shifting closer to Jinwoo’s shadow. The glare of the cameras, the whispers from the mass, other hunters, and staffs in the building, it all made you incredibly uncomfortable. And Jinwoo… Jinwoo seemed to notice.

He didn’t show it outright, but there was something in the subtle way he would angle his body, positioning himself just enough to block you from view, that made it clear he was aware of your discomfort.

Still, you noticed this strange glint in his eyes every time. Something almost too pleased about the way you shied away from limelight.

“Why do you look so smug?” you muttered under your breath, shooting him a side-eye as he wrapped up his interview.

He glanced at you, his expression neutral, but you saw the hint of a smirk tugging at his lips. “Smug? I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

You huffed, crossing your arms. “You’re hiding something.”

“Hmm?” Jinwoo’s voice was smooth, almost teasing. “I’m just answering questions.”

“Yeah, right.” You rubbed your temples, already feeling an incoming migraine. “We’ve had this conversation before. Why did you drag me along for something like this?”

 “You’re important to me.”

You blinked. For a moment, the two of you stood in silence, the noise of the surrounding world fading into the background.

Jinwoo’s expression shifted. There was something about the way he said it, the intensity in his gaze—

“And besides,” He raised an eyebrow, “I like seeing you squirm.”

The teasing edge returning to his tone, coupled by his bluntness, almost gave you a whiplash.

You groaned, swatting his arm lightly, earning a chuckle from him. “You’re impossible.”

“Hey,” Jinwoo said suddenly, his voice pulling you from your thoughts. The interview was over, and the reporters was walking away. Jinwoo turned his full attention to you, his gaze softening slightly. “Don’t worry about the attention. I’ll make sure no one bothers you.”

You blinked, caught off guard for the second time today by the sudden shift in his tone. “Really?”

“Really.” He gave you a small, reassuring smile.

And your heart did a funny little flip.

___

You walked side by side with Jinwoo, the quiet streets of Seoul providing a temporary escape from the usual chaos of your day-to-day life. The air was cool, the sun beginning to set, casting long shadows across the pavement. The peacefulness of it all paved way for your mind to drift, away from the hum of conversation in between.

There was something that had been nagging at the back of your mind for days now.

Lately, Jinwoo had been hovering, becoming something more constant than before. It wasn’t overbearing per se, but it was hard to ignore.

A particular memory resurfaced.

Before you were thrown into this world, before you had become the "Trial Player" for the system, you had been an avid reader of romance and the darker side of its narratives. You’d devoured stories of possessive heroes, morally gray characters who fiercely guarded their love interests, even to the point of obsession. It was intriguing, to see from their perspective, to see how different minds could spiral down into the far-end of an emotion most known for its warmth, for its nurturing side, for its healing.

Truly, the depths of love unknown and the lines that separate it blurred.

A passing thought, wild and ridiculous, almost made you laugh at yourself, if not for how persistent it became the more you tried to dismiss it.

As your eyes shifted to Jinwoo—

You imagined a dragon, fierce and terrifying, guarding his treasure—a princess locked away in his tower, away from prying eyes—

Only he could admire her beauty, only he could treasure her.

A pirate, feared on the high seas, taking his pearl—a siren hidden away inside a tank, on his ship that would soon set sail—

Her enchanting voice would never be heard by another soul. Only he could hear her song.

A king, mighty and fair, ruling over his subjects—his beloved queen confined in his castle, a gilded cage by his own making—

To adore her. To worship her as she deserved in his mind.

She was his and no one else’s.

You blinked, quickly shaking your head internally to rid yourself of the absurd thoughts.

No way, you told yourself. Jinwoo isn’t like that.

He respected your boundaries… most of the time. He was already protective because you were in dangerous situations together all the time. Technically speaking, you had saved his life and he saved yours. For Jinwoo, the Solo Player Sung Jinwoo, to harbor some possessive, obsessive feelings toward you? You were yet to be delusional enough to believe that.

Sure, he’d been a little overprotectiveas of late—clinging to you in his own subtle way. Now that you thought it over, was that too strange?

“Penny for your thoughts?” Jinwoo’s voice pulled you from your spiraling train of thought. He glanced at you from the corner of his eye, his usual calm expression betraying nothing of what was going on in his mind. But there was a hint of curiosity in his voice.

For now, you didn’t think so.

Yet, the way he shifted slightly, stepping a little closer to you, was not helping your case at all.

You forced a smile, hoping your stray thoughts didn’t show on your face. “Just… thinking about your rank re-evaluation,” you lied. “It’s a lot of attention.” —for the both of us.

Jinwoo nodded, though the small, knowing smile on his lips made you wonder if he could see right through you. “You’ve always hated the spotlight.”

“Yeah,” you mumbled, feeling a little awkward under his gaze. “I just… I don’t want all the attention.”

He hummed softly, as if he were amused by your answer. “It’s safer this way.”

You glanced at him; eyebrow raised. “Safer?”

“For you,” he said, his voice low. His eyes flickered with something you couldn’t quite place. “Staying out of the spotlight means staying out of trouble. It’s better if people don’t know how powerful you are.”

There was something about the way he said that—better if people don’t know. It made your stomach flip for reasons you didn’t fully understand. The words should have been reassuring, but instead, they made you feel… trapped, somehow. Like Jinwoo was quietly acknowledging that he was the only one who knew your true strength, and that was how he preferred it.

You swallowed, trying to shake the feeling off. “You really think so?”

He glanced at you again, and for a moment, you could’ve sworn his eyes darkened slightly. “I know so.”

Silence stretched between you, and you could feel your heart start to race in a way that had nothing to do with physical danger. Something about this conversation felt… different. Jinwoo wasn’t being threatening, but there was an underlying tension in his words, like he was saying more than what his calm tone implied.

Your mind flashed back to those stories.

Fiction as they were—dramatic, exaggerated—you were living in one right now.

No way, you told yourself again, more firmly this time. Jinwoo isn’t like that.

But the way he stayed so close, the way he seemed to grow tense whenever others got too near to you, the way he seemed delighted every time you recoiled from being noticed— as if you’d done his job for him, it was hard to ignore.

Was it really so far-fetched?

You took a deep breath, deciding to push the thought aside for now. The tension of the recent events was getting to you. You need to think this through once again with a clearer mind.

You peered at him one last time—the intensity in his eyes made your breath catch for just a second—before turning your head forward, continuing your walk, with him following right behind you.

No, Jinwoo wasn’t like that.

But the possibility sent a shiver down your spine nonetheless.

_____

End Note:

──── Yellow light bleeds through your closed vision. When you blink away the remaining clumps of sleep in your eyes, you find yourself in the passenger seat of a vehicle. Your stomach twists with newfound fear, as though your body were wringing a wet towel.

Before you can question how you somehow time-traveled to the tea-induced unconsciousness forced by Jill and Carlos, a voice permeates the silence.

“Morning, sunshine.” 

Nearly snapping your neck, you turn your head to find Leon Kennedy behind the steering wheel.

With a soft grin on his face, he shifts his gaze from the road, to you, then back again. He’d much rather stare in awe at the way your chest rises and falls with tranquility, but alas, he cannot. He’s well aware of what occurred the last time he drove with you. Like Hell will he allow anything of the sort to happen again.

“Oh… So, it wasn’t a dream.” You mutter sleepily, some lasting despondency dragging with your sluggish speech.

Lowering your head, you discover your opossum plushy nestled in your arms. Still adorned in the silken ribbon from earlier, but missing the handwritten note from Ada tucked beneath. 

Leon most likely crumpled the paper and tossed it in the garbage, always the territorial dog he is. You still remember the savagery in his eyes whenever you’d speak to coworkers at Mizoil about recent gas prices or late paychecks.

Speak of the devil, Leon is quick to save you from your inner turmoil. 

“Stay with me, Y/N. ‘Promise you’re safe here… You’ll never need to worry about anything ever again...”

He rests his hand on your knee, massaging soothing circles into your flesh. You’d surely succumb to the lulling motions and fall asleep, had your brain not been wrecked with surging questions.

“I-I don’t understand. What’s happening? Where are we going?” 

Leon’s hand finds yours. Calloused fingers interlock with your shivering digits, lightly squeezing your palm as a means of reassurance. A firm reminder that he is here. Always. And he will not be leaving your side anytime soon.

“I have a cabin up in the mountains. The safe house. Our safe house.” 

The last time you lived with someone in the woods, it ended very poorly. You pray Leon does not share any notion with your previous partners. 

Despite these worries, another special someone remains on your mind. 

“What of… What about Tyrell? Will he be joining us?” 

Trying to shield the hope in your tone was a lost cause. Especially when spoken to a secret agent of all people, who studies every twitch and timbre in your voice as easily as a picture book. All of which tells him you like Tyrell. 

Leon’s knuckles bloom in hues of white the tighter he clenches the steering wheel. Jealousy like never before courses through his bloodstream. 

Even in the presence of others who are not afraid to show their attraction to you, he never encountered emotions so grand. When it is you who displays the perceptible favoritism, Leon has to physically restrain himself from whipping the car around, speeding back to Tyrell’s home, and beating him to a bloody pulp.

You, safe and sound in his humble abode, and that man, rotting six feet under — that is really all Leon could ask for. Maybe even the death of a certain red-obsessed mercenary, but as tenacious as she is, there is no hope for such a fate.

“Nope. No Tyrell. Gonna be just us for a while.” 

The disappointment that washes over your face is catastrophic for Leon. It is almost enough for him to consider tearing himself apart to become the version of Tyrell you adore so much. Carving away at his features, nails and hammers to his flesh, and plucking every piece of his personality to claim as his. Anything to make you think of Leon alone in that regard. No one else.

“Hey, I swear you’ll enjoy it here.” He cannot tell whether he’s trying to assure you or himself of this. “We’ll have bonfires, hikes, car rides like this. I’ll even take you on a canoe ride around the lake, if you’d like.” 

“And what about after that?”

He pauses, casting a quick glance of confusion your way. 

“What do you mean?” 

“I mean, what will happen once all of this blows over and we can leave the safe house? When can I live on my own?”

Leon tenses. He does not like this topic; he’d rather speak more of the romantic dates you’ll have in the mountains together.

Mornings will be spent watching the fog settle across the surrounding forest, hands interlocked with one another and enjoying steaming cups of tea and coffee. Nights will be spent cuddled by the campfire, indulging yourselves in sugary kisses smeared with melted marshmallows and sticky chocolate.

He’ll spend his days with you nestled in his arms as he rows you around the lake, cooing over the way your heavy eyes droop and you drift off to the sound of gentle waves.

After six long, tortuous years, you’ve finally returned to him and dipped a toe into the thrashing waves of his life. And like some famished, deep-sea creature, Leon’s hand ensnares around your ankle and pulls you into the depths. Seized in his arms and to never part again.

Here, life will become what Leon has always wanted it to be: sunlit and alive. 

“Hey, watch out!” 

You’re shocked you hadn’t launched out the windshield by how violently Leon slammed on the brakes. His arm stretches over your chest in an attempt at protecting you, the aggressive and desperate motion enough to bruise your ribs.

When he looks to identify what danger intends to take you away from him, he finds a raccoon. How fitting. The critter scurries across the road before vanishing into a nearby array of bushes.

“Are-Are y-” Leon swallows a scratching cough. “Are you okay?” 

The stunned silence is accompanied by his stuttering, shaky breaths. His trembling hand finds your shoulder. Grasping tightly, as though you would wrangle yourself out of his grasp and limp away. Just as he watched you do in Raccoon City. 

You do not answer him. Instead, a smile creeps onto your face before you burst with loud laughter. The sight sends electric bolts straight through his chest; the mellifluous sound filling his ears like warm, oozing honey. A sound so heavenly, in fact, Leon finds himself laughing with you, despite the hammering speeds of his fearful heart.

You raise your opossum in presentation with a sun-bright smile still stamped on your face. “I think the little guy just wanted to visit his friend.”

You’re sent into another series of adorable laughter and candy-sweet giggles. Leon studies every tone of your amusement and stamps them into his memory. He has seen many versions of you, yes, but never complete happiness. Sheer, unadulterated, beautiful happiness. And he solemnly swears to keep this emotion perennial, for now and forevermore. 

When your laughing fit dies down, only then does Leon begin to drive again. As he accelerates forward, you look his way and begin to absorb his appearance. 

He does not look very different than he did before. Perceptible creases deepened on his skin and have replaced that baby-face he was once notorious for, however.

“’There something on my face?” 

You flush upon realizing how long you had been dissecting his appearance. Fortunately, that witty humor of his mends any lasting embarrassment. 

You had almost forgotten about the newcomer in town you met several years ago. When you see his chapped lips stretch into that pretty-boy smile, you’re reminded of how that rookie at the R.P.D. still lives inside him.

“I’m sorry, you just… You don’t look any different than when we first met.”

Now, it is his turn to blush. 

His eyebrows raise in shock. He turns his head to search your face for a sign of a joke. Though, with how focused he is on the road ahead (and his poor luck with driving), he is granted no opportunity. The silence that settles tells Leon all of how truthful you are. 

To make matters even worse for him and his flustered self, you continue your thorough inspection of his appearance. 

That dull, pallid color casted upon his face has restored its lively, childlike tint. Now, you can fully see that rosy flush cloud his creamy skin.

His eyes are a misty blue with scattered specks of gray. The most prominent feature of his eyes, however, was the life within them. And back on those loading docks, you witnessed first-hand as that liveliness returned.

Beneath their glittering luster holds the last few remnants of innocence he still has. For too long, they had been vacant and soulless — a permanent scar of that day in September. Excitement, adventure, and ambition now glimmers with every blink. You look into them and can only find that young man who visited your gas station to offer clumsy pick-up lines and hefty tips.

“I’d tell you to take a picture if I didn’t mind you staring at me so much.” Leon’s voice has deepened to a gentler husk over time. Aged like a fine whiskey. 

The wind passing through the window tousles with his hair, capturing your attention. You notice how the color of his hair has changed over the years, as well. The dark tones of his roots now fading into a dimmer blonde.

To answer his statement, you reach over and sink your fingers into the strands and ruffle the locks. He laughs in response and playfully pushes you back to your seat with tender effort. From here, you finally halt your scrutinization and return your gaze to the forestry outside. 

That adoring, lopsided smile remains permanent on Leon’s face for the rest of the car ride.

And that very smile is entirely formidable, you conclude. Time passes by and still, this happiness of his does not falter in the slightest.

It has now been over three months since you stepped foot into Leon’s cabin. More notably, it has now been three months since you’ve stepped foot out of Leon’s cabin.

You’ve become accustomed to the routine of waking up to gloomy clouds and shadowed sunshine. As you stir awake now, you study the bedroom you currently reside in.

On the bed, where you lay, cushiony comforters are embraced by fluffy, knitted blankets. Leon is satisfied with sleeping with one pillow, but he bought several more for you to sleep with, of which you use heartily. Only a fool would miss the way he wishes you’d use his chest to rest your head on instead.

Fairy lights are woven around the wooden beams supporting the ceiling. Directly beneath is a rug stretched across the floor, where the original intricate design is now convoluted with dirt and grime. A lit fireplace is centered directly across from the king-sized bed, protecting you from the bitter temperatures outside. Not that the protection is necessary, as you can always find a certain warm body draped around you.

Outside, a porch ensnares around the walls of the exterior, where two rocking chairs are situated right beside each other. They overlook the layer of fog resting upon the adjacent lake, surrounded by miles and miles of pine trees. 

Through the front entrance, you step directly into the living room. The interior is elucidated by soft, golden lamplights. More knitted blankets and pillows adorn the surface of the handmade couch. A hand-carved bookshelf holds the weight of a myriad of books.   

The living room goes hand-in-hand with the kitchen. A wooden stove, rustic pots, and even more ancient kitchen utensils scatter around the small expanse. Tucked in the corner of the kitchen is a timber table with a candle as a centerpiece, joined by two wooden dining chairs.

Down the hall and opposite of the bedroom is a bathroom akin to the size of a shoebox. A stone-walled shower contains all your preferred soaps and washes, as well as Leon’s classic scents of amber and cedar-wood. There is a mirror strung above the log-supported sink with, what you could swear is, a blinking red light tucked in the corner of the glass.

Relaxing and cozy is this cabin, yes, but it is all a temporary living situation. Then, you can step into the real world and see what life has to offer you.

At least, that is what Leon claims. 

What you are unaware of is that in these six years without you, wrecked by your death, Leon built this cabin as his final resting place.

His time was devoted to operating his plans of destroying Umbrella and slaving the hours away on this property, crafting every ounce of love and detail into the estate. After his goals reached success, Leon would venture back here where no one would find him. Then, he would end his life. 

When he reaches the afterlife, he will find your soul there. Waiting for him. You and him would then spend the rest of time with one another, happily haunting the halls of your humble abode.

These plans have, of course, fallen short when he learned your precious heart was still beating. Now, Leon intends on residing in the cabin for the rest of his life, indulging in the rays of sunlight held in his arms. 

There are still a few finishing details that require his aid, some last screws to be fastened and whatnot, but it will remain of utmost perfection as long as he is here with you. Then, when your long, amazing life inevitably reaches its final chapter, he will end his life right beside you.

Leon intends on spending eternity here with you. No matter what shifts and changes may occur in the trajectory of your lives.

Picturesque as his beloved cabin is, you’re still overwhelmed with the feeling of being trapped. And God, do these feelings puncture you with guilt. All that he has done and sacrificed for you, just for you to return his efforts with rejection and discomfort – you’d hate yourself if you were him.

Even though you perceive your desires as selfish, you still can’t help but wonder how fruitful your life could be if you were to be alone- 

“Jesus, fuck-!” 

Shifting your vision to your right, you swear your heart nearly collapses into itself when you find Leon. Chin rested on his palm, you had caught him in the middle of watching you. Intently. 

His staring does not cease upon your frightened reaction, either. It remains just as it was, with a new grin spreading on his face. You’re just like a baby mouse, eyes blown wide in fear of the vicious world around them. Too fucking cute.

Face hidden behind your hands, you catch your breath and question him. 

“Jesus Christ… How long have you been watching me?” 

With a lighthearted titter, he answers. 

“Not for long. Just over three hours.”

With every day the fog settles, you have come to learn several new things.

Oh, how Leon Kennedy loves the sight of Y/N L/N. 

It is evident throughout every day, where fragments of his obsession are sprinkled into every moment you spend together.

Eyes still glued to your every move, his burly arms encompass around your waist and pull you closer to him, chest now cemented to your back. Languid kisses are littered across your jaw like confetti dispersed upon a stage.

Ever since you arrived here, Leon always insisted on sharing a bed with you. Even going as far as to exclaim in faux dismay: “Oh, no! There is only one bed!”, as though he had not decorated the cabin himself.

He further asserts how sleeping beside you is the best course of action in keeping you safe from any creeping danger. When he then takes your chin between his two fingers and presses a hard kiss to your mouth, moaning in fervent contentment, you fail to see how this is meant to “protect” you.

Despite this, you have grown familiar with these sleeping arrangements beneath the sheets with Jill and Carlos. 

Speaking of those two, their memory stirs your stomach. 

You do not know if Leon is aware of their existence and what you endured under their care. You don’t know where they currently are, either. If they are even dead or alive…

These thoughts are immaterial, you assure yourself. They are far, far away and will never lay a finger on you. 

Nagging thoughts like these are especially assuaged in the morning, where you can cook breakfast for you and Leon. Even just the sight of a pan in your grasp would be enough to get Carlos sweating, further proving the two are not lurking in any hidden corners. He’d surely die just seeing you mere inches away from a knife block. 

Sure, it may have had to take a few voluntary cuddles and some puppy-dog eyes, but eventually, Leon caved and gave you permission to cook. Despite how ecstatic you are to receive some form of autonomy, you always remain careful in your efforts. One nick to your skin and this privilege will be yanked from your hands before you have the chance to enjoy it. 

Now, you stand here in the kitchen, poking and prodding at the sizzling eggs on the stove. Although you are certainly no chef, you managed to pick up a few skills while watching Carlos prepare your meals. Leon always praises your culinary works, nonetheless. The clean plate he leaves behind tells you such. 

Leon himself is currently outside the residence, gathering lumber for the bedroom fireplace. It is one of the rare occurrences where you are granted solitude, so you revel in the time as thoroughly as you can. 

He sought after time off work for the sole reason of never spending a second without you. Wearing the badge of surviving Raccoon City then saving the notorious Baby-Eagle has earned him many points with his superiors, granting him permission to bring home the bacon without partaking in any labor. 

You joke to yourself about becoming the classic 50’s housewife as you set the table.

Two plates of steaming omelets with a cup of tea for yourself and a glass of sparkling water for Leon. He alluded to his problems with alcohol on one occasion, but he informed you of how he was receiving help. This ‘help’ remains a mystery to you, but you assume his choice of beverage plays a role in this assistance. 

Although the problems you face are much different than his, you can’t help but wonder if you’ll ever receive help when you finally leave this- 

“Fucking christ!” 

When you turn your shoulder to set your apron away, you swear your heart, once again, nearly collapses into itself when you find Leon. Standing just at the threshold of the kitchen, watching your every move. Intently.

All he does is shoot you that same grin, complemented with a light chortle, before sitting down at the table. God, how long was he standing there? Did he even leave the cabin!? 

With a deep breath, you join him at his side. Before you can even take hold of any cutlery, something tugs at your chair. You glance down to find Leon’s hand ensnared around your chair leg, before he pulls you closer to him. Now shoulder to shoulder, he plants a prolonged kiss to your cheek as a silent way of thanking you and an apology for startling you, before digging into his meal.

You then begin consuming the works of your hard work, as well. In the midst of eating, Leon speaks about the plans for the day ahead. And for the umpteenth time, he broaches the idea of enjoying a boat ride around the lake.

With the shimmering hope in his eyes, you know very well of what he is asking you. After all, you remember your first boat ride very well. 

Watching the fish swim through the murky waters, listening to the birds sing and frogs croak, sinking your fingers into the stream and toying with the waves – enjoying the nature outside serves as a lovely memory. 

Much to Leon’s shock (and yours as well, if you are honest), you halted his rowing and pulled him into your very first kiss. As stingy as your affection is, he clung to whatever slivers he could grasp. And to receive something as breathtaking as your kiss, he could have sworn the world shattered around him.

Ever since then, the desperate man has been nudging you in the direction of giving him another. Or any scrap of affection, for that matter. 

You take your last sip of tea and agree to Leon’s advances of a boat ride, ignoring the elation that floods his face in response. 

Some time out of this stuffy cabin is what you have been needing. Maybe you’ll even give him another kiss in the end. As much as you hate to admit it, your lover is quite handsome. Also very fun to kiss. Annoyingly so.

Unfortunately for Leon, the boat ride you enjoyed that morning was devoid of any physical affections. As the day continues along, however, you can’t help but wonder if some affection is what Leon needs. Maybe then, he’ll be satiated, and finally, you’ll be granted more time to yourself…

As dusk settles in, though, you begin to notice a perceptible excitement within Leon. It is nothing out of the ordinary, as he always harbors some form of elation around you. Tonight, however, this gleam sparkled differently.

An hour managed to pass by, spent scouring through a book you plucked from the living room bookshelf. And so absorbed in the wondrous world of ‘Woodworking 4 Dummies’, you had not realized how long it has been since you last saw Leon. This phenomenon was strange, as your puppy-dog is always at your hip like a tight belt. 

You are only enlightened on this peculiarity when Leon enters through the front door moments later.

He is adorned with that familiar shimmer in his eye, but you also notice how he has his hair slicked back. You can easily recall the occurrence where he laid his head on your chest and you ran your fingers through his blonde strands, before impulsively telling him he looked sexy with his hair pushed back. 

Embarrassed, you prayed he was too drowsy to hear your spontaneous compliment. When you found a mountain of hair gel in the bathroom a day later, you realize then how wrong you were. Though, who are you to complain when you’ve got good eye-candy standing right in front of you?

“Sunshine! ‘Got something for ya.” 

Your book is robbed from your possession and tossed onto the couch surface, where your attention is then forcibly diverted to Leon. Exactly where he needs it most. 

His hands, soft as they always are, guide you to your feet. They are then placed over your eyes.

“Is it something that I’m not allowed to see?” 

A kiss to your head, he answers. “Not yet. Gonna have to let me be your legs for a while. Unless you want me to carry you there?” 

Please say yes. 

“Lead the way, Mr. Kennedy!” 

The disappointment he feels fades quickly as he begins to guide you out the front door. 

The bite of the early-night chill crawls up your arms. If it weren’t for the strong chest pressed against your back, you’d surely succumb to the shivering temperatures.

“I would’ve brought a jacket if I knew we’d be taking a stroll.”

The breath of his chortle fans against your ear. 

“You’ll warm up soon, sunlight. Trust me.”

Through several short-lived twists and turns, you are soon halted in your tracks. Any attempts at piecing together where on the property you may be fails you, as you have no recollection of stepping this far from the cabin.

“Any wild guesses?” Leon’s voice nearly touches your brain with how close he is to you. 

The specks of golden light peaking through his fingers hints to what may be the answer. 

“Uh… A campfire?”

He laughs again. “We already have one out front.” 

“Yeah, but the s'mores the merrier, right?” 

He responds to your god-awful pun with more laughter and another kiss to your head, before finally pulling his hands away from your face. 

From there, you absorb the sight of a newly built hot-tub. It bubbles with scorching water and you can almost feel your muscles ache with want. Beside the tub is a fireplace, alive and flickering with fire. There are towels folded upon the surface, where they absorb the heat to embrace you soothingly after a nice soak.

Surrounding the hot-tub is a tall, solid black fence. Perfect for complete and total privacy. Not that anyone could step within a mile radius of the home without Leon knowing, but you digress. 

Clean, skimmed wooden planks trail from your feet to the hot-tub. Searching further, you see an array of fairy lights strung upon the trees above. Their lights twinkle and illuminate the new addition to the property. 

So engrossed in dissecting the new sight, you forgot about your puppy’s incessant need for your attention. You almost forgot he was even there to begin with until you feel his arms ensnare around your shoulders, tugging you closer to him. 

Another kiss to your cheek and you finally fill the silence with your voice. 

“You built all of this?” 

He answers with an ‘mm-hmm’ and sways you both from side to side. You do not question his abilities, more-so the time frame. He’s constantly latched to you like that damned Las Plagas, where in his schedule did he find time to do all of this? 

“Goddamn, how good are those woodworking books?” 

You’re almost convinced to take up comedy with the way he laughs at your dry attempts at humor.

“You should know. You seemed pretty focused on it back home.” 

Home. It’s a comforting phrase, but even in your subconscious mind, you don’t interlock that word with the cabin. You aren’t sure why.

“Nah, I’ll stick to the omelets. I’d probably chop my fingers off if I tried what you do.” 

Leon shudders. The playful energy is drained the very moment those words leave your mouth. You should’ve known how sensitive he is to such ideas, after all. You almost turn to apologize, but he responds before you can even clutch the chance.

“Good.” He swallows dryly. You swear you heard a sniffle somewhere in there. “Don’t need any of those curious fingers around my table saw. Rather you just keep them on me.” 

You answer the flirtation with a giggle and a “shut up!”, before shoving him off of you. From there, Leon begins to undress himself. You watch his efforts with a furrowed brow, before questioning him.

“O-Oh, now? We’re gonna use it right now?” 

That grin on his face, always permanent, grows into a smile. “I built it for you. Didn’t bring you all the way out here just to stare at it.” 

“Touché.” You answer.

Since you do now own a swimsuit, as you have minimal clothing for yourself back in your dresser (due to the fact your entire wardrobe still remains at Jill and Carlos’ estate), you begin to undress yourself, as well. It hadn’t crossed your mind that this was the first time Leon has seen so much of your skin, as you are more preoccupied in imagining how relaxing it will be to finally sink into the warm water. 

Leon, in question, nearly gets caught in his pant legs and topples over from the sight of you. He wants to be witty, for his brain to form another charming one-liner that would snag your heart. But alas, seeing every blemish, every scar, every stretch of skin on your body has rendered him speechless. Those pesky undergarments of yours may be in the way, but even just a glimpse of your ankle is enough to get him drooling.

While Leon stands there with his head in the clouds, you rush over and finally step into the searing, muscle-melting embrace of the hot-tub. When you look to see why a certain blonde has yet to join you, you find him just standing there. Eyes the size of dinner plates.

You do not refrain from commenting on this. “When you said you didn’t bring me all the way out here just to stare, I thought you were talking about the both of us.”

A few blinks and Leon is finally brought back down to reality. There’s a subtle blush dusted on his cheeks, but yet again, he does not take his eyes off of you. With a light chortle, he finally climbs into the tub and adjusts himself beside you. 

You take notice of the old pair of swim trunks he had worn beneath his clothes, which surely had been collecting dust in the bottom of his dresser. The heavy muscle gain over the years makes it rather tight around his thighs. You quickly avert your eyes away from the sight, but Leon is not as stingy when it comes to his staring. Especially when it is you before his gaze. 

Enjoying the steaming temperatures, you then proceed to ramble about frivolous matters. With how peaceful your days have been (as well as how much time you spend with Leon), there is not much glamor or drama to enlighten him of. Still, you always manage to find some topic to blabber on about. 

For tonight's subject: eggs!

You are rarely given the privilege of pursuing your hobbies and exploring beyond that point rarely ever happens. Anything perceived dangerous in the eyes of Leon is immediately off the table. Cooking, as baby-proofed as it is, has become a newfound interest for you. Specifically the art of cooking eggs, as your morning omelets still weigh in your stomachs.

“-And that’s why you should always use butter instead of oil when cooking eggs. I’ve learned it makes the eggs a lot more creamy, while oil just makes it, kind of, goopy, in my opinion. Bonus points if the butter you use is unsalt-” 

So engaged in explaining the art of cooking eggs, you hardly comprehend Leon and his current state. Your tangent is soon brought to a sharp halt when you cast a glance at Leon. 

You find him staring, once again. Only this time, not a single inch of your chest is free from his scrutinization. You peer down to look at yourself, assuming something of sort was wrong with it. When you find nothing but your normal body, you finally conclude his actions to not be at fault of you, but simply Leon thinking with what’s in his pants.

Looking back at him, knowing smirk on your face, you point your fingers up. “My eyes are up here, y’know.”

Leon abides by your comment and returns his gaze to you. Then, in his best attempt, he tries to flirt.

"If being gorgeous was a crime, you-you'd be guilty as... as... shit, I... I'm sorry." 

You’re taken aback by his odd reaction. You have never seen Leon Kennedy nervous, no less stutter before. You’re positive you’re the only person on Earth to witness such. 

“Right… So, as I was saying, it’s also best to use unsalted butter while cooking eggs. Not only does it help cook better, but gives you the opportunity to add in your own seasonings. Especially with how picky you know I am when it comes to-” 

There he is, doing it again! 

Staring at your chest as though it were a delicious buffet and he had not eaten in days. 

Just how much is he even listening to you, anyway? If you asked him, do you think he’d be able to reiterate even just a word of what you said? What if you used this to your advantage? 

With this newfound idea sparked in your mind, you begin to tell a ridiculous, fabricated story of the morning you had.

“Yeah, so after I cooked us eggs, I went outside and actually ran into the chicken who laid it.”

You search for any sign of confusion and find nothing. So, you continue.

“Then, she started to berate me! Squawking and screaming, “How could you!? You cooked my baby into a tasty breakfast!?”” 

Complemented by your eccentric motions and exploration of different octaves, you pantomime the comical story to Leon. Still, all you receive is a monotone, periodic “uh-huh” from your ever-so-immersed lover.

“And then she started running after me, pecking at my ankles no matter how fast I ran! She actually chased me all the way up that mountain back there. I even asked a squirrel to help me, but he just acted like he didn’t even see me, that bastard! When we finally reached the top, I just…“ 

Further insight on your vibrant morning borders on your tongue, but when you cast your gaze further down, you find an unmistakable sight through the fizzing bubbles: Leon using his hands to shield his… problem away from your attention. 

From here, you finally cut your tale short. You giggle to yourself before forcibly snagging his attention away from your chest. You grasp his chin and pull his gaze to meet yours.

“I thought I told you my eyes were up here…”

A foggy film hazes over his eyes. Mouth slightly agape, he nods lazily in agreement. Does he like it when you’re in control? When you’re rough like this? 

As you ponder over it, you realize you have never really taken control before. And knowing you’re gonna be stuck in this cabin for God-knows how much longer, you might as well have some fun with it, right? Besides, you’ve caught a glimpse or two of what’s hidden in those pants. Maybe some sweat is what you truly need to ease into this new lifestyle. 

Even when holding his chin hostage, his eyes do not stop themselves from searching for what they want. They shift down to your lips and lock onto the sight. Of course, you know fully of what he is asking for. Though, it wouldn’t be fun if you couldn’t drizzle in a little pain with pleasure. 

So, you play against him in his most favorite game: freeze and stare. You do so and watch as he squirms like a worm through thick soil. 

As you watch Leon crumble from something so mere as intensive eye-contact, a knowing smile quirks at your lips. The sight of your pearly whites, especially when exposed in his favor, is what pushes Leon to snap. His mouth waters at the prospect prodding at his mind, as though he were thirteen years old again, reading the raunchy romance books he snagged from one of his orphan caregivers.

Leon leans in to kiss you, but you nod away from his advances. The further you push away from him, however, the more Leon chases after you. Soon, there is no room for you to escape. And his mouth practically bruises your own from the force of his scorching kiss.

You try to speak his name to capture his attention back, but there is no room for conversation. Not when your senses are overwhelmed with the clashing of lips, saliva, and gut-wrenching devotion. 

You sink your teeth into his bottom lip in a final attempt at halting his zeal. This action brings you success, yes, but only chucks buckets of fuel into the rampant fire burning inside Leon. He’s said it before, after all: pain at your hand would bring him bliss like no other. 

And that it does. 

His jaw drops with a sharp gasp. From there, you listen as Leon whimpers into your mouth. He chases after the warmth of your lips again, but you do not let him indulge by establishing firm restrictions. This resistance only causes more trouble, as Leon grows impatient with each passing second without you close.

“Please… Need more…” His voice raises in an octave you don’t recognize; a tone that encapsulates the hunger he is overwhelmed with. 

“Take them off.” Your demand is curt and sharp. It is a new disposition you do not recognize, but something Leon is absolutely enthralled by.

Always your obedient puppy-dog, not another second is wasted before Leon is practically ripping his swimming trunks from his waist. The array of gurgling bubbles shields what lies beneath the water surface, but you compensate by allowing your eager fingers to explore for themselves.

Pressing a sharp nail into the muscle of his thigh, you slowly tread your feather-touch upwards. Leon’s chest rises up and down with rapid breaths, as though he were the first to cross the finish line after a miles-long marathon. Just waiting, waiting for you to touch him in the one place he needs it most.

You indulge him once more with your much-awaited kiss. While doing so, you are able to easily remove yourself of your undergarments, as you were not wearing much to begin with. 

Leon tries to slither his tongue into your mouth, but always the sadist you are, you decline this effort. You are not focused on his pleasure for now. You’re more interested in learning what will be buried inside you soon. Testing the waters, per se.

When your thumb skims against the skin of his heavy balls, Leon nearly keels over. You’re then ensnared in the tight embrace of his Herculean biceps. Despite the debauchery sewn into his bones, puppeteering every move of his, he still remains tender with his actions. The notion to treat you with the utmost softness is unbreakable, even when he is suffering at the hands of devastating carnality.

Meanwhile, you drag your finger down his hardened length and estimate every inch he possesses. You ignore every shiver that cascades down his body and conclude the measurement lies somewhere near 7.5 inches. Leon lies on the thinner side, but compensates with just how intimidating the straight, narrow length is, leaving no room for any curves or arches. In contrast to this, his head is fat and irritated, desperate for your attention.

While you remain engrossed in your thorough studies, Leon begins to paw at you with his greedy hands.

“Please. Master, please…”

Master? You’ve never heard that one before…

You share a hearty chuckle and beneath the touch of your fingers, you feel his dick jerk in response. A thing for humiliation? You’ll jot that down for later.

With a swift roll of your eyes, you shuffle your legs over to straddle him. His hands clutch on to your shoulders in a fervent attempt at keeping you close, to a degree that almost brings you minor pain. Much like a normal dog, Leon often forgets the weight of his strength and how large he is. Especially when he is blinded by his own ravenous lechery.

“Do you want me to fuck you?” 

Leon shudders and weakly nods. It’s almost comical how a few heated touches can cause all that famous wit to ooze out his body. However, it is not the response you wanted. 

You tightly grasp hold of his face like a parent scolding their child. He gasps from the harsh contact, but the way his eyes sparkle tells you he is a fan of the rough treatment.

“Speak.” 

With a jagged groan, a collage of messy words spill from his mouth.

“Yes! God, yes, there is nothing I want more. Master, please give it to me!”

Satisfied with his answer, you use your free hand to take hold of his length. Goosebumps adorn his shivering body in response. With one last deep breath of preparation, you then guide his bulbous head past the tight barrier of your wet entrance. 

Your jaw drops from the sheer stretch. Despite how much you could have prepared yourself for penetration, it still finds fresh ways in taking your breath away.

Leon is not in any better of a state, either. Arguably, much worse. 

Gasps pervade from his mouth as he desperately tries to verbalize just how soul-crushing you feel. He might as well have ascended onto cloud nine where his lonely skin can be embraced in the fluffy, sunlit expanse. 

The further you sink yourself down, the more his brain becomes smeared with melted concupiscence and the feeling of absolute, irrevocable love. Leon has to restrain himself from snagging back your control and just fucking into you until the sun rises. Poor thing doesn’t know how much more he can take before he snaps.

When you finally do bottom out, you have to impede a wince. He may be able to reach places your measly fingers could only dream of finding, but fuck, will he take some getting used to. 

A choked gasp of your new title bridges on the edge of Leon’s lips, but is quickly halted by him. Even when he is in the position he has dreamed of obtaining for years, those nagging thoughts still manage to creep in.

Leon fears the aspect of losing control and the consequences it may garner. What if someone is out there? What if they’re watching, just waiting for him to give in to the pleasure? All so they can swoop in and take you from him? What will he do if he loses you again? Would he even survive-? 

A gentle bounce of your hips and all worry is flung into outer space. Leon lurches forward, burying his head into your neck and digging his blunt nails into your shoulders. 

While you remain focused on adjusting to the new rhythm, Leon is reciting a mantra of “don’t cum, don’t cum, don’t cum” through his hazy head.

“There you go… Good boy-“ 

Well, that didn’t last long. 

That’s all it takes for Leon to plunge over the edge.

“M-Master! Fuck, uhn-!” 

He bleats out an obnoxiously loud cry, as though he were the lead star in a world-famous porno.

Sweltering heat pervades through his stomach in an inordinate fervor. Thick, heavy ropes paint your walls white and fill you to the very brim. Hands gripping every chunk of flesh they can reach, Leon revels in the weight of the pleasure.

Never has he been able to cum so quickly. All efforts with the toys in his bedside drawer or the blurry faces he’d bring to bed were rarely brought to fruition. If he were ever brought to that peak, it was always a pitiful release. 

One thing remained constant, though: it was always you on his mind. 

Tonight, however, euphoria could not have come quicker when his senses are overwhelmed in all of you and your perfect self. 

With such meek effort, you’ve now reduced Leon to a gooey puddle of ecstatic, dazed shivers. You take his newfound silence as embarrassment for lasting several seconds inside you. The truth is, you have stunned him into an enraptured state of silence. Still, you’ve accepted the fun has ended and begin reassuring him of any drifting doubts. 

“You’re okay, puppy… Did so well for me…” You whisper, leaving a trail of gentle kisses down his jaw. 

Leon’s rapid breathing has now eased, with the occasional whimper managing to escape. Tears build in his baby-blues. His grip on you is weak, but still maintains that vehement desperation you’re so familiar with. Inert is now his disposition, all with just a few pumps inside you. 

Six years have been spent in isolated misery with the memory of you poisoning his mind. To finally feel the caress of your love, Leon can’t restrain the tears that begin to fall.

Your reassurances remain soft and your kisses drag further down his skin. His chest, riddled with scars from his past, does not remain untouched by your care. This includes the jagged cut above his collarbone that he received during his search for you in Valdelobos. It had healed since, but it is perceptible in its hues of purple and red. You kiss upon the wound, complemented by the subtle drag of your teeth. 

You’re caught off guard when you feel Leon’s hardened length spasm within you in response. You devote your attention to that sweet spot and drag the warm sponge of your tongue on the scar, relishing in the moan it evokes from his throat. 

Sucking into the marked skin, Leon starts again with his pathetic stammering.

“Pl-Please…” he cries out. “You’re killing me…” 

You press a tender kiss to the fresh hickey as a silent apology. Slowly, you then begin to grind your hips to gently ease him into round two. Your efforts for a forgiving transition fail you, however, as those needy hands dig into your flesh as some desperate query for mercy.

Leon shields any absconding sounds of his by hyperventilating through clenched teeth. Once again, however, that scrap of self-control is torn from his grasp with another bounce of your body. 

As your motions continue, Leon takes hold of the hand you rested on his shoulder. He buries your fingers in the heaps of short hair on the back of his head. His eyes are locked on yours through it all. Where else would they be? 

“Pull. Please, pull on-” 

You yank on his hair with all your might and watch in reverie as his jaw goes slack. A few moans part from his gaping mouth before he can collect the correct words to speak. 

Taking your other hand, Leon guides it to his neck and applies the pressure he’s been dreaming of for years.

“Sq-Squ-” 

You abide once more and compress your fingers down on the most sensitive areas of his throat. And you almost crack a joke about how he’d do well in a Hentai with how perverse his reaction is. 

His tongue lolls out of his open mouth and rests against his chin. His eyes roll so far into the back of his head, you wonder if they’ll be stuck there forever. All of this over some slow grinding? You could assume him to be a virgin over such dramatics. 

For a moment, you decide to soften your movements. With his track record, you doubt he’ll last much longer with such efficient motions. Instead, you take advantage of that loose tongue hanging lazily from his mouth. 

You begin to suck on the lax muscle. The response it garners from Leon is immediate. A torrid moan pervades muffled, but the volume is still enough to shudder through the air. 

Every twist and turn of his hot mouth is sloppy, as he is too twitterpated to use his lips accordingly. His hands, weak and idle, clasp your jaw and hold you in place. Leon has kissed many others before, yes, but none like this. 

Then finally, finally, you begin to ride him. The attention reserved to his mouth is robbed from you, as Leon’s head droops backward and hangs over the rim of the hot tub. His body goes limp, slack arms falling from your body and to his sides. That mouth, overwhelmed with pooling saliva, lets out a raucous series of “ah! ah! ah!” with every thrust you impel into yourself.

He becomes blinded by his appetency. As he stated, being victim to the fusion of heaven and hell at your hand brings him bliss like no other. And through the clenched curses and pitiful whimpers, the universe finally grants him the ability to speak. 

Soon, all fantasies he’s had surrounding this moment begin to spill out of his brain. Every meager attempt at masturbation, every tedious one-night stand, every sexual desire never brought to fruition — one crack in the dam leads to every thought of you gushing out with no hope of control. 

“You have no idea...” His voice is a mere squeak; you barely discern what was even stated. “No-No clue… ‘Needed this ever since I saw you at that f-fucking gas station!” 

Fire burns scorching in your gut.

“Spent six whole fucking years chasing after this. Never-Never thought I’d find it… Never thought I’d find you.” 

Every thrust baffles you, as no one, not even yourself, has been able to reach so deep. Complemented by the intensity and verity of his words, you’re surprised it all hadn’t made you cum prematurely, as well. 

A particular rough pump hits a good spot inside you, a spot you had not known existed. A moan gasps from your throat, of which you try to muffle to no avail. Leon takes notice and immediately fills the silence with more pleads.

“No, d-don’t hide. Wanna hear you, master. Ne-Need it…” 

Paired with those pretty eyes, shimmering as though he were a dog presented with a juicy bone, that was all you needed to let go. You angle your hips to abuse that spot relentlessly, relishing in the immediate gratification it ignites within you. 

Soon, you’re no better than him in regards to sound release. The last time you heard yourself like this was when Carlos was buried inside you, but Leon does not need to know about those past excursions. 

Leon, in question, was none the wiser. Overwhelmed with ecstasy, he continues with his blabbering about every wet dream you played the lead role in.

“Wanna- Wan’ you to put a collar on me. ‘Wear the ears an’ a leash. Have you pl-plug a tail inside me.” 

The idea of adorning the Leon Kennedy in all those garbs is almost enough to make you laugh. A man of such strength and power would really let you do that to him? 

“Wan’ master to cum in a bowl. ’Make me eat it.” 

He lifts his head to rest his forehead against yours. His eyes gaze into yours with an intensity that touches your bones. 

“Survive on it…”

His statement almost unnerves you. The entire time you thought he was dead, that is what he occupied himself with? Thoughts like this? 

With your free hand, you return the grasp you once had on his hair and you yank on the strands in an attempt to get him to shut his mouth. His eyes roll into the back of his head and he cries obscenely, but does not dare separate the distance between you both. 

Through gasps for air and prevailing moans, the blabbering continues. 

“Luh-Lock me in a cage. Tie a vibe’ to my dick and just sit there, just f-fucking watch me fall apart.” 

Yeah, he definitely took your ‘puppy-dog’ nickname too literally. 

You’re sure if you told him to bark, he wouldn’t think twice. You don’t even know if you have the heart to fulfill all these fantasies, no matter how pretty he’d plead for you. 

The lack of vocal indication of your end has taken a perceptible toll on Leon, as it seems. He eagerly awaits for your reply, to see your face stretch into a sneer, for you to tell him he is a disgusting mutt who doesn’t deserve another second in your presence. The mere thought could make him cum again right there.

“Master, please! Wan’ hear your voice.” 

You hadn’t even noticed your sudden inclination to silence. After all, you have been rendered speechless from his previous statements. And with a face like that, you don’t have it in you to deny Leon of what he asks for.

“Yeah? Feelin’ good?” 

Oh, he could just melt beneath that voice. 

Leon is positive he almost does with the way he can’t bring himself to answer you with words, only returning your question with another onslaught of whines and snivels. 

Now that he has you where he has only dreamt of holding you, it’s too much for him to handle. Even when faced with the most formidable, revolting creatures on Earth, the utter severity of it all couldn’t even begin to compare with what you offer him. 

“F-F-Fuck! Master, gonna-gonna make me-!” 

You halt, reducing your violent thrusts to gentle pumps. And the sob it earns you is nothing short of beautiful. 

For a moment, you find yourself worried over the visceral reaction it pulled from him. If it weren’t for the lust fogging his brain, he’d adorn you in wreaths of reassurance and adoration. Leon has been victim to so much pain over the course of his life, but none of which compare to this. It hurts, but fuck, does it hurt good.

“… Need… Need you…” 

And God, will he do just about anything to be a victim to it for the rest of his life. 

“Make… Make me cum first, then maybe I’ll consider letting you finish inside me.”

His eyes, peering into yours, darken in response. Just how long has he been waiting for you to throw a demand like that his way? 

Years, you conclude, based on how he obliges with whiplash-inducing swiftness. Leon takes the labor off your shoulders and pounds against that spot that turns your body to melted goop. The noises you make, like sheer heaven pouring into Leon’s ears, intensify when you bring much-needed stimulation to your sex. 

“Wan’ make you feel good. ‘S all I ever wanted.” He whines through sniffles.

His nails cling to the meat of your hips, whisking you closer to his chest. You’re positive by morning, you’ll look as though Wolverine chose you as his prey. 

The tears bridging in his eyes now seep down his cheeks, face twisting as sobs begin to heave from his body. Leon hasn’t cried since the moment he saw you on the loading docks. What is there to cry about anymore? With you there, the sun in an empty void, how could he ever be brought to tears again?

Now, however, he cannot refrain himself from sobbing his eyes out. Every wail escapes with a hiccup as he desperately restrains himself from disobeying your word and finishing inside you. Six years spent chasing after an orgasm had not prepared Leon for what would happen when he’d be forced to prevent that peak. 

“I’ll get you there. Mmph- ‘Puppy will get you there.”

That tether keeping you stable weakens with every thrust plunged inside you. Your brain is sheer mush, your body is enfeebled, and the knot in your gut stretches until it becomes too much for you to hold.

A sharp curse gasps from your throat as you let yourself go and into the arms of sheer rapture. You clutch onto his shoulders as your orgasm courses through your body. And to be the one responsible for such intensive, euphoric feelings within you turns Leon into a man lost to the whorls of insanity. 

“Fuck-! Thank you! Thank you, thank you, thank you!” He trails on like a broken CD.

“Y-Yeah? Feels good fucking into me like a bitch in heat, huh?” 

You don’t even know who the person saying these words is, as it all tumbles from your mouth like second nature. 

Leon does, however. And God, he couldn’t be more in love with them. 

“Come on, you’ve earned your reward. Breed me, puppy.” 

Just like that, all Leon needed was another sugar-coated command and he is cumming his brains out.

“Fuck, I’m-!” 

Leon fills you up once again, practically squirting into you like a bitch. The remnants left with no room excrete from your heat and flow with the bubbling water.

Drool pools underneath his tongue, snapping in strings as his mouth opens to cry out for you. All sorts of curses and proclamations of love tumble from his weak jaw. His brows pinch upwards as his gaze remains locked on yours, relishing in the sight he’s fought tooth and nail to retrieve. 

The blurry memories of those pitiful one-night stands bid their last goodbye, firmly replaced by the ground-breaking, earth-shattering pleasure only you are capable of conjuring.

And once again, that staring problem of his has not halted, even when he has been reduced to a whiny, woozy mess.

Leon lays there, limp as a wet noodle, and just marvels at the sight of you before him. Every inch of your body is scrutinized through his eyes, once again.

All the fantasies of you on top of him, none of it compared to the genuine sight. Strikingly beautiful as you always are. It is better than seeing daylight for the first time, better than seeing a rainbow of hope after a tragic storm, better than watching all your desires and dreams unravel before your very eyes. It is everything.

All you can do is remain seated on his lap and admire the work, or rather, destruction, you have caused.

“Leon?” 

Nothing.

“Leon…?”

No response. 

“Hey, pup.”

You pat your hand on his cheek, finally capturing his attention. 

Dazed, he answers with a lazy “huh?” while still refusing to cease his staring. 

“I’d tell you to take a picture if I didn’t mind you staring at me so much.”

He huffs out a dazed chuckle, gaze still buried into every inch of you it can reach. With no verbal reply, you laugh to yourself when you realize you’ve managed to fuck the wit and humor out of Leon Kennedy, the king of all cheesy dad-jokes. 

“Let’s get you cleaned up, yeah?” 

He nods weakly in response. 

You now dread the thought of dragging the dead weight of this burly secret agent all the way back to the cabin.

Night has now consumed the sky, shedding the light of the moon and its glittering stars across the land. After a swift shower with an affectionate, semi-conscious Leon, the two of you return outdoors. 

The campfire outside crackles with heat in front of the hammock strapped beneath two trees, where you and Leon currently lay.

His head is buried into your neck, desperate for the comfort only your touch can provide. With the occasional sloppy kiss to your jaw and drowsy, love-struck praise, you realize you have rendered one of the most powerful men on the planet to a mushy mess of devotion.

Holding the light of his life close, affixed by the sounds of chirping crickets and swaying waves, he is soon rocked to sleep like a baby in a crib.

Despite the soothing environment, however, you cannot find it within yourself to join Leon in his state of slumber. Instead, your brain is plagued by concern.

Foolishly, you assumed drowning Leon in affections would grant you a moment of solitude. Just satiate his hunger and you’ll catch a break, right? 

Wrong! 

Your efforts have only intensified the avidity coursing through his bloodstream. Where his muddled mind can only conjure words of your beauty, your psyche, your perfection — just you, you, you, and only you.

But, what about you? 

What do you crave? What do you want most?

As the idea simmers in your brain, you conclude what you want most is to start anew. Move to a different city, reconnect with old friends, adopt a furry friend, maybe even return to school or pursue a new career field.

It does not matter what choices you make down the line, as long as you have a choice to begin with.

And maybe when the time is right, you can pursue romance again. You cannot explain why, but your mind then drifts to Tyrell and you start to wonder if he-

“Oh! God, you startled me…” 

You dip your chin and find Leon in a new state of complete consciousness. Staring at you. Intently.

Almost as though he could read your mind, he had roused from his sleep the very second your thoughts traveled in the opposite direction of him. Another smile stretches on his sleepy face, nonetheless. His finger draws up to your face and he boops you on the nose. 

With a content hum of laughter, Leon then snuggles closer to you and proceeds to drown you in another suffocating array of kisses and nuzzles.

“I missed you…” He exhales.

With a glance of confusion, you question his confession.

“What? I’ve been here the whole time?”

Your bewilderment is not alleviated, as Leon only doubles down on his confession. 

“I really, really missed you…”

Just when you think he cannot get any closer, he forces himself further like a python ensnaring around its prey. Almost as though he were trying to forge the two of you into one person.

You hereby make a promise to yourself that if you are ever granted the chance of a new beginning, you will never adopt a dog.

When you wake the following morning beneath the sheets of the bedroom, you are met with the same routine. Hazy sunlight, singing birds, lively fireplace — all the essentials to a morning spent in the cabin.

This time, however, you feel someone affectionately dragging the joint of their fingers down your face. 

This strikes odd, as you always wake before Leon. He was never a deep sleeper before bringing you into his bed, always flinching awake to gusts of wind or creaks in the floorboard. With his thick arms around your waist, trying to wake him was now a fool’s errand. That is, until you leave his side. You are convinced he has some form of sixth sense devoted to ensuring you are close by. There is no other coherent explanation for this superpower of his.

As he continues to caress the jut of your jaw, you keep your confusions at bay and your eyes locked tight. You hope with careful effort, you’ll succeed in pretending to be asleep.

“Told you I’d come back to you.” 

That is not Leon. 

Your eyes launch open to identify the voice, only to find no other than Ada Wong sitting beside you. 

She is dressed in her famous red garbs and dark leather. Acrylic nails grazing over your flesh, she pets you as though you were a sleeping kitten curled up in her lap.

“Ada!” You exclaim, voice woven with shock and relief. 

You escape the expanse of Leon’s strong grasp, albeit with struggle, and bring her into a hug, of which she joyously accepts.

The act of affection given to her was platonic. A greeting of an old friend, nothing more. The embrace you initiated, however, quickly becomes a bit too intimate for your liking. With glossy lips a little too close to your neck and hands treading further and further down your back, you pull away from her before she can conjure up any ulterior ideas. 

Though, knowing Ada and her love of romance, those very ideas have most likely forged a home in her mind.

“This is the ‘humble abode’ Leon spoke so proudly of?” She questions, studying the room with a perceptible sneer. “He has you living like a dog.” 

“It-It’s not so bad! I actually find it quite cozy here.” You defend the unconscious man beside you. “It’s nothing like your million-dollar mansion, though, I assume?” 

Ada breathes out a light chortle. How badly she missed you and that playful nature, as groggy as it may be in the wake of dawn.

“Well, would you like to find out?” 

She has to restrain herself from pinching your cheeks when you fail to hide your flabbergasted expression.

“L-Leave? You want me to leave with you?” 

A surge of fear envelops your body when you contemplate the prospect. Awakening to an empty bed would surely send Leon into a state of crazed hysterics. You’d be overtaken with guilt knowing he’s ripping the planet apart trying to find you.

“Yes. Pack your bags. My chauffeur is waiting for us.” 

Chauffeur!? Is she serious?

“Oh, I barely have any clothes to pack. We can just catch up here, right?” 

Your lazy excuse is an attempt at convincing Ada to stay within the safety of the cabin, all to placate Leon. What you have forgotten in these few months is just how headstrong she is. Also, how easy it is for her to twist your works to her liking.

“That is alright, we can travel naked. I certainly don’t mind.”

“That won’t be necessary.” Leon interjects her salacious ideas, granting you no time to react to her remark. “I know it’s different from what you’re used to, but we don’t need diamonds to be happy.”

Turning to look at him, you’re taken aback by how overcome with annoyance he is. It is the first time you have seen him so irritated in months, in fact. Not since the two had their cat-fight back on the loading docks. 

When he shifts his gaze to you, however, that aggravation washes away and is replaced by content bliss. It seems to be his permanent expression whenever his vision is blessed with the sight of you.

“All we need is each other.”

Leon’s arms find their way around your waist, once again, sprinkling ardent kisses upon your shoulder. You can only imagine the intensity in his eyes when he casts another glare her way. 

“Oh. How sweet.” Aversion seeps from Ada’s words as though she were spitting out a chunk of rotten fruit.

It is only now that you begin to connect the dots. They are short and curt with each other, yes, but their interactions are devoid of the violence from before. You can’t help but wonder to yourself if they had planned this? 

You are not granted much time to ponder on such trivial matters. Not when Ada is dragging you out of the cabin, Leon hot on your tail. 

She assures you there is now no need for packing a bag of any sort, as you will own a full closet and whatever luxuries you desire at her place of residence. The obnoxious flaunting does not go unnoticed by Leon, either. You wouldn’t be surprised if he had caught sight of his brain with how hard he rolled his eyes.

With that being said, Leon is not entirely innocent in his efforts to establish dominance over his enemy, either. 

You barely make it a few steps off the front porch before Leon yanks you into a bruising kiss. 

With both hands grasping your face, he ignores your muffled whimpers of rebuff and deepens the kiss to an impossible degree. Under the heat of such intense vehemency, however, that facade he crafted to ingrain insecurity into Ada crumbles at his feet. Even the strongest of creatures would melt beneath the veil of your affection, that is an undeniable fact.

You will not be gone for long, but Leon cannot fathom a mere second without you close by. How is he meant to function when you’re under the care of this serpent? 

The woman in question is swift in separating you from the lovesick maniac assaulting your mouth. Ensuring your safety and comfort is now a muscle reaction in her, she has come to learn.

Once he finally parts from you, only then does he realize tears have pooled in his eyes, threatening to spill down his face. 

“I love you.” Leon confesses.

You do not respond. You do not know what kind of feelings you possess for him, but uttering those words back to him would feel foreign. Now that you think about it, you cannot recall the last time you were positive you genuinely loved someone…

“I love you so much, sunlight.”

Ada has now resorted to dragging him away from you, fully expecting him to tackle you like a dog who has not seen their owner in months. Knowing him, an action of such would not be out of character.

“I’ll see you soon, Leon.” 

With that, you begin treading towards the location of Ada’s chauffeur. She begins to follow you in your steps, but is halted when a rough hand clutches her forearm. Harshly, she is pulled away from you by Leon.

Out of your earshot, he whispers into her ear through clenched teeth. Voice now austere and venomous.

“One mark on them and there is not a single place on Earth you’ll be able to hide from me.” 

With an amused eye-roll and wicked grin, Ada responds to him.

“Careful, Leon. You know I don’t fight fair. Play your cards wrong and I’ll have them begging to stay with me.”

Leon is not given the chance to fulfill his desires of beating her skull into the mud and leaving behind a gore-ridden disarray. Not when she swiftly escapes his violent grasp and follows behind you.

You remain oblivious to the blood-soaked tension between your two lovers as you send a final wave to a heart-shattered Leon. You then reach the doors of the vehicle Ada was chauffeured in and marvel at the expensive sight.

The steel walls of the car are dark and polished, as though the chauffeur had driven here directly from the dealership. Said chauffeur circles around the car to where you stand. He does not spare you a glance as he opens the door for you, reserving his vision for the costly intricacies of his oxford shoes and fitted suit.

You cast a glance of uncertainty to Ada, who returns your confusion with an affirmative gesture. A grin creeps onto her face in response. She likes you relying on her for clarity. Just her and no one else.

Wiping off any excess mud on your shoes in the dewy grass, you carefully (moreso clumsily) enter the vehicle. You perceive the interior of the car to be just as lavish as the outside.

The seats are imbedded with exorbitant, brown leather and encompass the entire backseat area. Curtains guard the tinted windows, as though you were a celebrity being escorted to some prestigious event. 

In your intended seat is a velvet-coated bin filled to the brim with all sorts of goods. Expensive lotions all in your favorite scents, several new LEGO sets, a vintage polaroid camera, as well as… A hankerchief? Why would you need one of those back here?

Shifting your gaze further, the car head unit displays a GPS, detailing the fastest route to Leon’s cabin. You’d think this car was taking you to the moon with how futuristic the interior is. 

The partition closes before you can examine the technology further, leaving the backseat in complete isolation. The engine is quiet as it rumbles to life.

Ada then joins you in the backseat, closing the door firmly. 

“Seatbelt.”

It takes you a moment to discern what she said, that being an unbending demand. When you finally register her words, you oblige and rush to fasten your seatbelt.

“Wow! I’ve never been in a car so- mmph!” 

Ada pulls you into a kiss before you can finish your sentence. 

It is a soft affection, but even a fool couldn’t miss the aching relief seeping from her muscles. God, did she miss you. 

It is a contrast to kisses from Leon, as well. Her lips are smooth and plump, instead of that chapped, neediness he always overwhelms you with. In addition to this, every advance and nudge of Ada’s mouth is luxurious in effort. Hell, even her lip gloss tastes expensive. 

The kiss is short-lived, much to her dismay, as you soon pull away from the second onslaught of greedy ferocity for the day.

“You must have a lot of questions for me.” Ada leans back into her seat and crosses one leg over the other. “Ask away.” 

Still frazzled from the sudden affection you were pulled into, it takes a few seconds for you to compute a proper response.

“I… I’m not even sure where to start. I’m just glad you’re okay.” 

Ada raises a brow, relishing you caring for her well-being. Lord knows how obsessed she is with yours, after all.

“I guess I’ll start by asking… Um, where have you been?” 

Maybe it was the exhausting ride here, maybe it’s the breakfast she forgot that morning, shit, maybe it’s just the weather, but Ada cannot find words to speak when you’re looking at her like that. She concludes it is at fault of the long, torturous time spent without you, immediately met with whiplash upon indulging in your kiss.

“Working. Cleaning up the mess in Valdelobos.” 

How she has cleaned the said “mess” remains unbeknownst to you. No matter what the context is, you can always rely on Ada to be vague with her words.

“What about…” You hesitate. “What about Jill and Carlos? Have you seen them?” 

Even though your days have been overwhelmed by Leon and his clingy antics, the memory of that cursed picnic still lurks in the back of your head. You still do not know where they are or if they are even alive.

“Taken care of. Nothing you need to worry your pretty head about.”

“Okay… That’s good to hear.” You sigh with relief. “And what of today? Where are we heading to?”

“My penthouse. Top floor. Perfect view of the entire city.” 

Penthouse!? You’ve seen your fair share of apartments, as you lived in a roach-ridden studio back in Raccoon City. But, you’ve never even breathed within a mile radius of a penthouse!

“Oh! A-A penthouse?” 

You swear you can visibly see the hubris permeate her expression. The pride Ada feels upon your reactions to the fruits of her work is nothing short of euphoric. 

“Correct.”

You cough out a nervous laugh. “I don’t- I’ve-I’ve never been in a penthouse before. I don’t think I’ll really… "Fit in”, y’know?” 

“Nonsense. It’s exactly what you deserve. What you need.” 

“Okay… And what about after that?”

She pauses, confused by your question.

“I don’t understand.”

“I mean, what will happen after I leave your penthouse?” 

“You’ll visit Leon provisionally, before you return to me.” 

“No! I-I mean, when do I get to go off on my own? Make a life for myself?”

Ada tenses. She does not like this topic; she’d rather go back to boasting about her riches and reveling in the way you fawn after them.

“I…” You begin, before cutting your tangent off short. 

You are well aware of the hardships both she and Leon have endured for your well-being. The last thing you want is to be seen as ungrateful.

To alleviate these worries, you place your hand atop of hers in assurance. In the process, you fail to notice the spike her heart endures from the sudden affection.

“I’m grateful for everything you and Leon have done for me. Really, I am. But… But, I think I’m ready to fly the nest now.”

And just how foolish can you be, Y/N? 

Ada can’t let you go. How could she ever? She can’t, she can’t, she can’t, she can’t, she can’t, she can’t, she can’t- 

“I can’t!” 

The shout is abrupt and causes you to flinch away from her. In response, Ada quickly takes your hand back into hers. Her touch is soft, as it always has been, but the desperation is almost palpable.

“Not… Not yet, petal. It’s too dangerous.” 

Your heart hangs heavy in your chest. 

More hiding? 

When will this chapter of your life finally conclude? When can you shift your worries from four love-obsessed soldiers to feeding the alleyway strays and finishing your taxes on time?

When will it all end? 

Will it ever end?

This question looms in the head as hours, days, week, months tread past you. 

Despite your wishes to start anew, you’ve been forced into an organized routine with Ada and Leon. 

One week will be spent at Leon’s cabin, relaxing in the heart of mother nature while enjoying hot-tub nights and fried egg mornings. Once that week comes to an end, you’ll be flown out to Ada’s penthouse, where luxury and extravagance never cease. 

Begrudgingly, Leon is given permission to join you on the private jet ride to Ada’s estate, soaking in the last few hours he’ll be granted with you. She cannot bring herself to blame him for this, as much as she wants to. She is also latched to your side for the agonizing drive out to Leon’s cabin, as well.

The two will then share a few sly glares and indulge you in some final, saddened acts of affections. Then, you are handed off to the other like divorced parents trading off kids in a grocery store parking lot.

In this time, you’ve become accustomed to the juxtaposition between waking up on flannel sheets, then silken sheets.

The windows of Ada’s opulent bedroom expand across the walls and welcome the light of the morning sun. 

Fluffed pillows support your tired head. The mattress you’re sprawled out on is spacious, allowing you to stretch your limbs comfortably. An incredible contrast to your tiny twin back at the sanctuary. The lavish, bamboo comforters you’ve ensnared around yourself atone for all those lonely nights spent clinging to thin blankets. 

You search through the mess of blankets to find Ada, but your efforts are brought to no avail. Much like her partner-nemesis (or whatever she’d personally name Leon), she is normally the sight you’re met with the moment you awaken.

Unbeknownst to you, though, Ada still fears she may wake to cold sheets; to be met with another firm reminder that this is all just another sugar-sprinkled dream and you are far away. To have you here, safe and warm, closer than ever before — it is the most picturesque definition of ‘too good to be true’ a dictionary could articulate. 

Now, to awake in complete isolation, you had forgotten what it felt like altogether. Addled by this, you leave the heavenly embrace of the bed and set out on finding Ada. 

Sauntering out of the bedroom, the marble floors feel like a fresh sheet of snow beneath your bare feet. All the more reason to crawl into those cozy, warm blankets and let the world drift away.

The walls and floors you tread by are painted a deep black. The only contrast to this darkness are the blood-red accents and the surrounding greenery. Plants, all varying in shape and size, adorn the hallways you amble through.

A few of Ada’s servants are awake bright and early to tend to these plants, squirt bottles and thermometers in their possession. You approach one of them and ask for Ada’s whereabouts, but they ignore you. As though they are stiff, tin-made robots, solely devoted to the task at hand and nothing else. 

From there, you shake off the odd encounter and hasten forward, continuing your search for your missing partner. 

For the umpteenth time, you walk through the hallway that has haunted your thoughts for these past few months. In this hallway are two doors, mirrored directly across from one another. Both are locked, despite your efforts to enter. You cannot help but wonder what you’d find inside…

As you pace down the staircase, you’re soon hit with the perfusing scent of a steaming meal. Like some starved carnivore, you follow the smell through the grand hallways, before you finally halt in the dining room.

You often joke to Ada how she’s decorated the room as though she were expecting to dine with the Addams family. Gothic and luxurious — those are the two words best used to describe the dining room.

The heavy chandelier dangling above flickers with lit candles, irradiating the jewels strung to the golden encasing. Black, velvet-encased chairs are aligned across the edges of the mahogany table. The chairs on the far ends contrast the others with their shimmering, golden trim. Two chairs meant to support the weight of royalty.

The table is now littered with a variety of breakfast foods. You find crepes, both sweet and savory. Also known as Ada’s favorite, which you noted long ago. Fresh, steaming breads, complemented by your choice of rich butter, fresh jam, or sweet honey. Fluffy Belgian waffles are stacked on a plate beside more bottles of maple syrup than Canada has ever seen. There is even an ostrich egg platter, surrounded with crispy meats and vegetables to plunge into the thick yolk. 

You’ll have to ask Leon to add ostrich eggs to the grocery list so you can force him through another rant about eggs.

As you scrutinize all the contents on the table, a server then enters the premises. Just like the others, he does not make eye-contact with you. Almost as if he was afraid to do so, afraid of you. 

He grasps the frame of the sumptuous chair and drags it out for you, beckoning you to sit down. You hesitate, questioning him with a pointed finger to your chest and a whispered “me?”, before your brain finally computes and ushers you to abide by his request.

When you sit, you are not permitted the chance to choose your serving of luxurious foods. Not when the servant begins intricately building your plate for you, skimming down a mental checklist of exact proteins, fats, grains, and everything incorporated into a healthy breakfast.

Without making eye-contact, once again, the servant sets the plate down before you. And like some ravenous animal, you do not wait for him to leave before you’re sinking your eager fingers into the dish. Everything is spectacular in its rich, delectable flavors. Surely a breakfast fit for royalty, of which you have not convinced yourself you are yet.

A pair of arms then wrap around your chest, guiding you back into a doting embrace. Glossy lips press an ardent kiss to your temple.

“I’m glad to see you finally awake, petal.”

With every day the fog settles, you have come to learn several new things.

Oh, how Ada Wong loves the touch of Y/N L/N.

It is evident throughout every day, where fragments of her obsession are sprinkled into every moment you spend together.

And you cannot differentiate whether the burning of your cheeks is from the sudden affections or because you were caught devouring your meal like some mess-obsessed toddler.

Ada strolls to stand beside you, dragging a pointed finger across your shoulders as she saunters. With a sticky face, you watch as she curls her fingers beneath your chin, shifting your gaze up to meet hers.

“Cute.” She utters, caressing the narrow line of your jawline. 

She loves this sight of you under her like this. Like a wide-eyed bunny, scrutinizing every move of the big, bad wolf. Too fucking adorable. Her fingers then find your head, petting the surface as though you were her personal lap-dog. Pretty and pliant beneath her, exactly where she loves you most.

“I’ll be gone for most of the day, unfortunately. Work stuff.” Her hand grasps your chin, holding your vision to hers. “Think you can keep yourself occupied without me?” 

You nod obediently, most certainly a sight for sore eyes. 

She chortles. “Good...” 

With one last prolonged, impassioned kiss to your forehead, Ada then departs and sets out for the day's tasks. 

Despite your imperative stance in her life, you are still left in the dark about what exactly her “work” is. All attempts at questioning result in failure. What you are aware of, however, is how time-consuming it all is. Honestly, you’d think she was having an affair if she didn’t drown you in love and riches every chance she got.

One major (and ridiculous, in your opinion) component of Ada’s richness was the vast indoor pool of the penthouse. You’ve never even seen her in the room itself, so you always question the purpose of its existence.

These matters are immaterial to you now, however, as you strip down to nudity and launch yourself into the crisp water. Here, your body is free from the fervent hands of the clingy customer from Mizoil and the overly affectionate Superwoman. 

Lap after lap, you adjust to the bitter temperatures and find tranquility in the repetitive routine. This was a pattern you favored, since it is rare you are granted time for yourself. So, you savor what slivers of solitude you're given as you swim through the sky-blue waves.

Body now weary, you reside in the middle of the pool and float there. With no stimulation from the lovesick creatures surrounding you, the thoughts haunting the back of your head creep forward. Here, they whisper the truth.

Despite how magical it may be to surround yourself in glittering riches and adoring affections, your true desires reside and rot deep within you. How badly you want to start fresh somewhere far from this mess, but how guilty you feel for secretly wishing to reject all this luxury.

Then again, these may be the feelings Ada and Leon wish for you to be tormented with. For you to trust them wholly, before yanking the rug from beneath your feet. Tossing you back into the arms of Jill and Carlos, to Umbrella, hell, maybe even the Saddler, if his formidable self managed to survive your laundry list of lovers.

Maybe that is what Jill and Carlos had done in your last interaction, as well. Selling you to Umbrella for the hefty pay they’d surely return them. All the blood splatters and crocodile tears must have been a show to convince you they had no say in the transaction.

Your head begins to ache as these theories pervade through your head. Your trust has been worn thin in these recent months, even the trust you instilled into yourself. Maybe if you just sink lower, let yourself be consumed by the weight of the frigid waves, then all of it will end. 

If you end your life, maybe then you’ll finally be at peace.

“Y/N?” 

“Jesus-!” 

Your arms latch around yourself in a desperate attempt at shielding your naked body. 

A glance forward and you find one of Ada’s numerous servants, eyes laser-focused on her feet and nowhere else. You can only imagine what kind of lethal punishment would be in store for this poor worker had she indulged herself in the sight of you. All it would take is some stuttering words and tear-filled eyes and Ada would have all the heads in the world on a stick.

“Um- Ms. Wong is on her way home and wants to see you first thing. If you will, please, uhm- please get dressed and meet us in the living room.” 

She scurries off before you can respond.

You figure you’ve swam enough laps around the pool and around the swirling calamity in your mind. From there, you frantically dry off your wet skin and dress yourself before another unwanted guest can see your exposed self.

Through the numerous hallways, you finally arrive in the living room. Dark in its overall appearance, with the familiar accents of red and greenery. Before you can wait for Ada’s arrival, however, something catches your eye. 

On the coffee table is a bouquet of flowers. Red roses entwined with strands of dandelions and baby’s breath. 

These gifts have become a daily routine, at this point. You’ll find Ada’s favorite roses and your running-inside-joke dandelions nestled beside each other. Oftentimes, she’ll take a stray dandelion and tuck it behind your ear. Overtly romantic per usual, which proves to be Ada’s permanent disposition.

You shuffle around the table to sit upon the adjacent sofa, but find yourself hesitating in the process, afraid to soil it with your mere fingertips. Yes, you have seen lavish furniture, as Carlos and Jill put their cash towards whatever ensured your comfort and safety. However, you have never seen luxury quite like this.

Carefully, you descend your body onto the surface. The couch is soft, but sturdy. Not a thread out of place, nor a wrinkle in sight. Expensive, that’s for damn sure.

“Full-grain leather. Organic cotton. Hand-crafted. Purchased it from a designer in Italy.”

A voice pervades through the silence. The flat, yet soft tone could only be possessed by one person.

You turn over your shoulder to find Ada Wong.

Her body is adorned with a trench coat made of dark leather, framed with a fur trim. A few metal clinks and she unbuckles the coat, tossing it toward a near servant. Beneath the garment is a red dress. Skin-tight, per usual, and worn with those stilettos she's never seen without. 

And inevitable with every interaction you have with her, Ada is wearing that sultry-sweet smile and those bambi-soft eyes — a fashion statement only sewn by your hand.

Trailing your gaze off behind her, you see another servant at her side. In their grasp is a tray holding the weight of several wine bottles, as well as an array of burgundy glasses.

“Italy has always been a second home.” Ada is quick to snag your attention back onto her. “Most of your closet is sheer Rome.” 

She saunters over to you and drapes herself onto the couch, as though she were posing for a painting and you were wielding the paintbrushes. 

Without breaking eye-contact, Ada snaps her fingers and points an acrylic nail to the marble coffee table. The servant, with enough swiftness to avoid dropping the platter and facing her wrath, places the platter down. From there, they begin with their eccentric presentation.

“Tonight, we have a sample of the classic Chardonnay, paired with the vibrant Semillon Sauvignon Blanc. Both extravagant in flavor, but contrast in their-”

“Leave.”

The word is sharp. And still, Ada’s eyes are locked on yours.

All servants, deflected as one may be, simultaneously bow to her. They all proceed to frantically trip over themselves to take their leave. 

The doors close with a gentle click, leaving you to inevitably be lodged in the jaws of the beast they fear. It certainly doesn’t help when she stares at you as though you were some feeble prey, ready to be torn into bloodied ribbons.

Those dark eyes tread from the tip of your head, then inch-by-inch down to your feet. Trailing back to meet your gaze, Ada fills the silence. 

“So, tell me, which do you prefer? White or red?”

Confused, you furrow your brow and tilt your head like a puppy. It takes everything within Ada not to pounce on you right then and there.

“Like, the color?”

“The wine, petal.” A breathless chuckle drags with her words. You’d feel like an idiot if it weren’t for the enchantment drowning in her eyes.

“Oh! I-uh… I’ve never really tried out much alcohol before.”

“You’ve never drank before?” 

“No, I-Well, I have, but only once. One of the therapists at the sanctuary was sneaking in vodka, so me and my friend snuck it into my room and drank it. That-That was a long time ago, though…”

Your friend. You have not thought of him in months. 

“Did you sleep with him?” 

“Wh-!? No! No, it was never like that! He was just my friend, only that!” 

Ada chuckles. A deep, thrumming sound.

“I’m teasing you, Y/N. Just can’t help myself when you get all nervous like that.” 

She then grasps one of the several bottles from the platter. Sagrantino, a bold red wine. Directly imported from Umbria, Italy. The silence in the room is filled with the pouring of alcohol.

“Well, I prefer red, but that’s just my preference. Got all night to find yours.” 

Glass now in your hand, you twirl the stem around in circles and watch as the wine swishes around in hues of deep crimson and purple.

“Go ahead, petal. Drink.” 

Ada has a certain timbre in her voice that lulls you, as though she were a siren. No matter what demand falls from her mouth, you find yourself complying to every wish of hers.

So, you drink. 

The aromas of violets and berries envelop your tongue, blended with its dry texture that leaves behind a subtle spice. It is a tad overbearing, yes, but delicious in flavor.

A few more sips and your body is overcome with a sudden warmth. The clothes you are wearing feel stuffy and beads of sweat begin to build beneath them. You’ve been tipsy before, maybe even bridging on fully drunk, but nothing has ever garnered this reaction out of you. 

Did just a few sips give you heatstroke or something? What is happening to you?

“If you hadn’t slept with him, then who did you sleep with?” 

The question appears out of nowhere. Too occupied with studying this sudden heatwave, you do not respond to her.

“The two that held you captive, maybe? Surely, they couldn’t hold themselves back?” 

Ah, yes. Jill and Carlos. Just when you think you can abandon them in the previous chapter of your life, they slither their way into the new pages and engrave themselves with the ink. 

Begrudgingly, you answer. “Yes, I-um… I slept with both of them.” 

“Interesting.”

A pregnant silence settles as Ada’s fingers dance around the rim of the wine glass. Her gaze has yet to leave yours.

“When I found you in Valdelobos, you had bite marks on your neck. Who gave them to you?” 

Your brain tells you to lie and blame the Los Iluminados with their hungry teeth. However, the prospect of being dishonest to Ada and the inevitable consequences that would follow prevent you from being untruthful.

“Jill. She gave them to me.” 

The expression on her face is indistinguishable. If your other suitors learned of your sexual partners, they’d wage a war on the entire planet. Ada, however, is different. She seems… amused by it all.

“Figured.” She answers. “And how did Jill treat you?” 

As stated before, there is no space for dishonesty with Ada preset. Even if you sprung to your feet and raced out the door, she’d find the answers to her curiosity one way or another.

“She was rough. Really rough. Jill, she-she didn’t like to explore, either. We did the same thing every time.”

“Did what every time?”

Ada’s unadulterated attention is latched onto every syllable you speak. Almost as though this were some sleepover in a chick-flick, where you were telling your B.F.F. of how you lost your v-card to the dashing quarterback you’ve had a crush on all year. All that’s missing is the glossy magazines and microwave popcorn.

“She went down on me. It was all we did, all that she wanted to do. A-And not that I’m complaining or ungrateful! But…”

“But…?” 

“But, I-I always- I think I always wanted to try… More.” 

“And what does more entail?” 

“I-uh. Erm, I-I don’t- I think-“ 

“You wanted to go down on a woman?” 

You’re sure your skin must be hotter than the surface of the sun by now.

“Yes, but, I-I’ve never even done it before, so I know I’d suck at it, anyway.” 

Her fingers find the hem of your shirt and she begins to fidget with the fabric. 

“Would you like me to show you how…?”

You scrutinize Ada’s features for some sign of a joke, but you find nothing but sincerity. Her fingers then tread lower, nails grazing the edge of your thigh in a teasing approach.

“I could give you some private lessons…”

The thought of doing that to any person, no matter an ex or new fling, has a surge of heat pervading through your body. Your chest rises and falls with rapid speed, heart racing with acute palpitations. Seriously, what on Earth is happening to you? It was only a few sips of alcohol and some littering flirtations, none of what is happening to your body is normal!

The glass of wine you once held is nearly shattered with how swiftly Ada takes it from your hands. The wine she indulges herself in has been abandoned, as well, joining your glass on the coffee table.

Ada is more interested in what this newfound, aphrodisiac-induced side of you has to offer, instead.

Yes, guilt rots in her stomach for what she has done. This guilt remained present as she stalked the servant who crushed the pills into a white powder before spewing it into the wine bottle. However, any lucidity still inside her had perished the moment she reunited with you in Valdelobos.

Of course, her actions inevitably resulted in the aphrodisiac coursing through her system, as well. Not that she even needed the hearty drugs or liquid courage, to begin with. You merely sigh and Ada is clutching her thighs together.

And this is certainly the case when her lips finally meet yours. It had begun as a gentle exploration, a symphony of sensations that ignited a light fire within her soul. 

When the aphrodisiac finally strikes her, however, there is no room left for tenderness. 

Mouth still latched onto yours like some sort of parasite, her clawed hand presses to your chest and pushes. Your back meets the plush surface of the couch and Ada does not waste another second before she’s caging herself around you. 

When her acrylic nail ghosts against your nipple, you let out a sharp whine. In response, Ada freezes. She has heard you cry in pain, misery, exhaustion, but never in rapture. And she had not anticipated the impact it would have on her. If anything, the sound you made was more of a light gasp, but still, it had conjured some feral despair she did not recognize.

This intensity stirring in her stomach may have been charged by the aphrodisiac. Morseo, maybe it is the fact she had not satiated any sexual desires in several years. Ada hadn’t even orgasmed once, for that matter. No physical touch, no bedroom fun, no playing around with toys — absolutely nothing.

Despite her sultry nature (and contrary to all your obsessive partners), Ada has never actually fantasized of taking you to bed, either. This task persevered as her most difficult mission. Especially on lonely nights, you became no better than a devil on her shoulder, persuading her to sin. 

If Ada indulged that tiny Y/N with thick horns and a sharp trident, she knew she wouldn’t waste another second before claiming you as her most precious, most imperative, most prized possession.

Now that you are finally here, under her, just like she has always wanted, all that longing and suffering comes bubbling to the surface.

“Ada? Is-Is everything okay?”

Your lips are puffy from the relentless passion they have endured, shimmering from the mess of saliva and lipstick stains. A lazy haze engulfs your eyes, as well, illuminating that playful glint she is so enamored with.

“Please… ‘M needy…” 

She could assume you were weaponizing your charm by how effortlessly weak you make her. 

“Stand up. Follow me.” 

Ada is curt with her demands, as she has always been. This time, though, there is a perceptible desperation soaked into her tone.

Your legs wobble when you stand, as you are still woozy from the fervid intimacy. Ada maintains a tight posture, but it wouldn’t take a genius to notice the lack of sophistication in her stance. Words fail to describe just how delicious it was to feel your body against her. Even for just a moment. 

She then grasps your hand, guiding you out of the living room and through the many hallways that follow through the spacious penthouse. 

Both you and Ada finally halt in front of the two doors that have haunted your curiosity. Fortunately for you, one half of this curiosity of yours is alleviated.

Ada temporarily releases your hand and strides toward the door on your right. With several beeps to the keypad, the light shines green and the doorknob clicks.

“Come now.”

Another demand of hers is brought to fruition immediately. You interlock your fingers with Ada’s as she leads you past the threshold. And all of the theories prancing around your mind regarding what you’ll find ultimately failed you. Instead, you find the exact opposite.

If you were to Google ‘red room of pain’, a picture of this room would be the first result. 

The walls, ceilings, and floors are all painted black, embellished with accents of Ada’s signature red. The lack of windows in the room are compromised by mirrors, which cover every surrounding wall. There’s even a wide array on the ceiling, which provide a full view of all possible angles. A purposeful decision, surely.

The dark candelabras scattered around provide minimal, golden light, as well. Some are positioned on surfaces, while the standing few are nestled in the empty corners.

Directly centered in the room is a canopy bed, also painted black. The drapes strung upon the four posts contrast in hues of deep red. The comforters, lavish in their appearance and texture, share these same hues, as well. You do not look over the notable design of the headboard, either. Perfect for any preferred form of restraint. 

Behind the bed and against the wall is a tall, intricately-carved cabinet. The contents within are a mystery, but you can only assume it has to do with the activities intended to take place in this room.

To the right is an electric fireplace tucked in the corner. Draped before it is a tiger skin rug with the head intact, jaw wired ajar to flaunt the display of sharp teeth. The fireplace is grouped with a set of two leather chairs, hugged by another spacious leather sofa. The texture is deliberately chosen for easy clean-up, you assume.

In the far left corner of the room is a short platform supporting the weight of a clawfoot bathtub which is, yet again, colored black. The edges of the golden claw feet are painted in a maroon red, as though they have been soaked in blood. A detail demanded by Ada, you have no doubt.

Two robes are hung on the wall behind the bathtub. One is silken in the hue of red, while the other is fluffy and is purchased in the exact shade of your favorite color. Surrounding the bathtub are a collage of soaps adhering to your preferred scents. You have learned to no longer wonder how she knew such minute details about yourself. At this point, it would be strange if she didn’t know something about you.

“While you were busy with that mutt, I was here. Working on all this.” Ada stretches her arms out in presentation, showing off the renovation. 

While you’re busy scrutinizing the new environment, you fail to notice how you’re neglecting the needs of a certain someone. A bad habit of yours, you have come to realize. Those acrylic claws ensnare around your forearm with enough firmness to grasp your attention, before guiding you to stand before the mirror in front of the bed.

When you meet her gaze in your reflection, you fail in your efforts to not grow flustered. Ada’s eyes, normally adorned with softness, have now been overwhelmed with salacious fervor. 

When her fingertip meets the skin of your neck, another gasp is pulled from your chest. A noise she relishes in. Her other hand fiddles with your shirt, sharp nails just begging to tear through the fabric like some rabid monster.

You are not far behind her in terms of desperation, so you abide by the desires she does not verbalize and you remove all of your clothing. 

You fail to register Ada’s downright feral temperamen in response. The shivering of her hands, the heat radiating from her body, the heavy breathing over your shoulder – it is all too much for her to handle. Her eyes don’t hide this truth, either, as they have nearly gone all black from the dilation of her pupils.

Ada’s hand hovers over your skin, afraid to take that step, the very step that will destroy any remnants of self-control she still clung to. It’s nothing short of a miracle that she can still restrain herself from sinking her teeth, her claws, God, every toy in her closet into every inch of plump skin she can reach. 

You, however, grow impatient from her hesitation and place your hand atop hers, pressing it firmly against your naked waist. Leaning further against her chest, you finally break the silence. 

“’Wanna taste you, Ada. Please.” 

She shudders in response. Unbeknownst to you, she had completely forgotten about that promise she swore to you minutes ago. How could she think of anything else when perfection in human form is pleading for her touch?

“On the bed.” 

You swear you hear a tremble in her voice, but you chalk it up to your wild imagination. Ignoring it, you abide by her wish and stroll over to the bed. The surface is plush and welcomes you into its soft embrace. You adjust yourself comfortably on your back, relishing in how the soft comforters caress your naked skin. 

When you hear the sound of that dress falling to the ground, you shift your gaze forward. Now, it is your turn to gawk at someone’s nudity.

Yes, you may have fantasized about what she may look like beneath all those red dresses, and the images in your mind palace certainly did not fail you. 

Her tits are perky, nipples pretty and pink, and they sit tight on her chest; they’re the kind of pair other women would drop thousands of dollars on to obtain. Beneath them is a set of light abs that are rose-tinted with flushed nerves. They lead to her hip dips, which frame the goods between her legs you’ve been dying for a taste of.

“What’s the matter? Cat got your tongue?” 

Wit run dry, you have no response left in you but a meek nod. 

Those model-worthy legs then saunter over to the bed. Your heart stutters miserably as Ada crawls on top of you again, now closer than ever before. She touches up the pillow beneath your head to ensure your comfort. Despite the fervor racing through her veins, the sake of your well-being always perseveres as most important.

“There you are. Comfy?” 

You answer with a weak “mm-hmm” and she responds with a sweet chortle. God, she can’t get enough of you.

Ada inches further until her thighs encase your head, hovering over the face that has haunted her mind for years. Anyone with a brain would spill gallons upon gallons of blood for this sight of you, she is sure of it.

Slick drool seeps from her folds, landing onto your lips. Eagerly, you lap up any remnants you’ve been granted and revel in the flavor. A pinch of natural sourness, but sprinkled in with the expensive soaps lining the shelves in her shower. Far better than the wine you have since forgotten about.

Ada then points to various spots of her pussy, speaking in direct tones. “You lick here, kiss here, and suck here. Understand?”

With a quick nod, you wait in anticipation for her to indulge you in what you’ve been aching for. Her hips, shaky as they surprisingly are, finally descend. 

At first, you begin your work with weak, nervous kitten licks. Ada is not a fan of this stage fright, however. Her acrylics dig into your scalp and yank.

“I said use your tongue.” 

A laugh of amusement parts from your mouth (inevitably squeezing her fragile heart). You finally spit out a glob of saliva onto her and plunge your tongue straight into her dewy heat, lapping up every sliver of her you can obtain. And the reaction it garners festers a burning fire in your stomach.

She stutters on the edge of her words, her head dipping back. “God… You’re a natural, petal...” 

Ada’s hips begin to rock the second your lazy lapping hastens into zealous slurping. With a tighter grip on her, you plunge your tongue past her entrance and slurp the creamy slick. The sounds you are able to pull from her are deep and throaty, but smooth and sexy. They meld with the sounds of the bed creaking beneath the weight of her incessant motions.

You continue with your efforts, thrusting your wet muscle in and out, in and out, in and out. Without another second to process, a sudden gush of liquid splashes across your face. It surges across your face and down your neck, staining the lavish pillows. 

Is she squirting? 

Even as you grant your tense jaw a break, the liquid continues to spurt from her. Ada’s fingers reach down to rub herself in circular motions, causing the pressure to hasten like a popped bottle of champagne. With your tongue lolled out of your mouth, you manage to garner some of the excess into your mouth, of which Ada aims herself toward.

When the dam is finally eased, another demand is thrown your way. 

“Mommy needs more, baby.” 

Mommy? You’ve never heard that one before. 

“Time to start working on that clit, yeah?” 

Aware of her impatient strike, you hurriedly begin to leave a series of obscene mwah’s on her puffy clit. Ada throbs with every careless kiss you leave behind, growing more irritated the longer her exact wishes are not brought to fruition. You should’ve known not to disobey her word, even when your intentions were in the right place. 

Your attempts to ease Ada into the rough treatment of your tongue were met with her smushing herself into your face. The muffled squeal of surprise you let out is short-lived and instantly replaced by the lewd squelches and slurps you work into her clit. 

Your head vigorously shakes back and forth, side-to-side against that sweet spot. The motion sends white-hot pleasure tickling up Ada’s spine, evident in the sloppy grinding of her hips and the pornographic sounds pervading the room.

You’re barely granted air to breathe, but Ada has been blinded by her own need. Drowning you in her scent, her taste, her warmth is nothing short of the most picturesque wet dream come to life. The way her slick is coating your face, arousal dripping down your neck — there is nothing left to do but abandon any and all control left behind. She just wants more, more, more, more, more, more, moremoremoremoremore- 

“Oh, God!” 

Ada has fully resorted to using your face as her toy. She hardly recognizes herself, humping that magical mouth of yours like some mutt in heat. Then again, you’ve always had a knack for weeding out parts of her she didn’t know existed. That is especially the case now, as that newfound heaven sits right at the horizon and morphs her into a creature crazed.

“It’s coming…!” 

Ada gushes into your mouth, overwhelming your senses with her, her arousal, and all her juices. Her jaw drops and her eyebrows pinch as the searing pleasure courses through her body. Her thighs, shivering and sweaty, clench around your head and keep your head in firm place. Her back arches and her hips buck from the intensity, as though some demonic spirit tore her soul straight from her chest. 

She’s never seen herself squirm like some sort of dying insect, but when it is your touch she is met with, it only makes sense this is the reaction it’d garner.

Ada has had her fair share of one-night stands, but fuck, they had nothing on this absolute rhapsody you bring her. To be overwhelmed in the touch of you is absolute perfection. It is better than touching the fluffy belly of a lamb, better than blankets fresh out of a dryer, better than the plastic encasing of a life preserver while trapped in a thrashing sea. 

All of it comes to head as her orgasm engulfs her, all by the works of you and your marvelous, outrageously-perfect self.

As her breathing evens out and her body reduces to a puddle of jelly, Ada’s brain finally produces a rational thought. Only now does she realize she had been crushing you beneath her weight. With swift, Ada-Wong-style finesse, she crawls away from your swollen mouth. Her heart throbs as she blesses her vision with the way you look now.

Oh, there you are. Sweet petal. 

She could topple over that edge once more as the sheer sight of you now. Drunken eyes dazed, mouth all swollen, and rendered to a pussy-drunk mess. It should be a crime for that pretty face to be covered in anything other than her dripping cum.

The fog clouding your brain begins to clear, as well. Lapping up any last few remnants of her still on your face, you begin to discern your surroundings. Specifically that of Ada. Her thumb caresses the jut of your cheekbone. Her lips, smeared with lipstick and drool, scatter ardent kisses down your jaw.

When you look at the expression stamped on her face, you have to stifle a laugh from how stupefied she looks. As though you were in some cartoon and she had been whacked with a sledgehammer. Blue birds circling around her head and all.

“I…” Ada begins, but cuts herself off with a dry swallow. “Mommy wants to try something with you. Will you let her?”

You nod in response, but that is not enough for her. 

“Say it.” 

Another sharp demand is sent your way, but this time, it is framed with the newfound desperation you conjured within her.

With a gulp, you answer. “Yes, mommy.”

“Fuck.” 

Did she just curse? A woman sworn to a distinguished, controlled disposition has, for the very first time, sworn in front of you? Ada is taken aback by this, as well, evident in the laugh of disbelief she exhales.

Promptly, she then leaves your side. Not without a few last caresses to your skin, however. You remain in place within the sea of comforters, listening as she takes out equipment from the cabinet behind you. 

The efforts put into trying to discern her intentions through the mirror ahead of you are met with failure, as Ada always loves a good surprise. Especially when it is wrapped in a pretty bow for the love of her life.

“Do you trust me?”

You answer with a nod. Another mistake.

“Words.” 

“Yes. I trust you.” 

A grin spreads on her face, the one you know all too well.

“Perfect.” 

Ada returns to your trail of vision and her hands grasp your foot. She waves a red, silken bow playfully, before using it to latch your ankle to the adjacent bedpost. Another strand of silk is ensnared around your other ankle and fastened to the separate bedpost, binding both of your legs completely. 

The last time you were tied up like this, it ended with you writhing from the oscillation between pain and pleasure. All you can do is pray Ada has the mercy you begged from Jill. 

And as though she could read your mind, Ada begins to speak about her.

“Since your ex-girlfriend lacks substance, I guess it’s up to me to show you what genuine pleasure is.”

You don’t even want to think about what Jill Valentine is occupied with at the moment. Wherever she may be. 

“Y’know, she’d kill you for what you’re doing to me right now.” 

Ada quirks a brow, something sinister sinking in her eyes. She smiles at you with that infamous, evil grin. 

“Let her try. She wouldn’t be the first.” 

The first? What does that mean?

You are given no time to dwindle on this statement, not when Ada finally presents how she intends to bring you that “genuine pleasure”. 

She withdraws a vibrator as though it were merely pocket change for a cashier. One of those big, wand-like ones you’ve seen in porn.

It’s mortifying to admit, but on lonely nights in the sanctuary, you’d sneak off into the computer lab to watch those kinds of videos. You only stopped when a security guard intruded your personal time to identify all the “strange” noises he heard. So, although your experience is limited, you’ve seen enough in those videos to know the impact that toy can have.

“This one’s my favorite. I have no doubt I can make it yours, too.” 

On top of the stunned silence you’ve been forced into upon seeing that toy, Ada then shows you her second method of bringing you pleasure no human but her can ignite. 

A thick, curved, blood-red dildo is held in her dark acrylics. Bulky veins are carved into the rubber skin, spreading all the way to the bulbous head. 

Coursing through the images in your head, you search for some resemblance of your past partners and find several similarities. Though, you find differences, as well. It stretches into a similar length to Leon, but is passing him by an additional inch. It possesses the same girth as Carlos, but the curve is more subtle and purposeful than his obnoxious size. 

Had Ada somehow known this? Did she add this specific toy to her varying collection for this reason? 

“You look like you’ve got something to say…” 

The woman in question scrutinizes your body language for any semblance of emotion. Fear? Arousal? Maybe even both? 

“No, I just- I’ve never seen… toys in real life, before.” There you go again, stuttering through another confession.

Even when you’re tethered up like a feral animal and entirely naked on display, you’re still shy with your words.

“You’re adorable like this.” Ada leans in close to you again, lips grazing over yours. “I could just eat you out…” 

You’re hauled into a searing kiss before you can process her words. You’ve almost forgotten how every kiss of hers is exceptional in erasing any coherency still in your brain.

“Oh… Another day, petal. Another day.” 

Even though Ada could continue with the flirtation for centuries, she decides to put an end to the banter and watch in reverie as you fall apart. She guides you to sit up, and obedient as you are, you comply and follow her lead. She then nestles herself behind you and guides you to lay down against her chest.

“There you go. You’re perfect…” 

Ada’s praises certainly do not ease the scorching mayhem in your body. Her hands, gentle as they normally are, spread your legs apart with one swift, rough motion.

“Don’t hide from mommy. Understood?” 

You answer her demands verbally, as you have since learned Ada does not favor hushed responses. You don’t think you could handle being bent over her knee right now, ass bruised raw. At least, not for tonight.

With that, Ada takes back possession of the thick dildo. A hushed chortle fans against your shoulder when she feels a shiver race down your spine. 

“Nervous?” She laughs, as though your body wasn’t practically screaming at her to bring it gratification.

The dildo is first splayed across your stomach. The base touches below your pubic mound, while the tip lands just above your belly button — an accurate display of how far it will reach inside you. 

“See. Not too bad, right? I’m sure Leon could go even deeper.”

Of course not. Fuck, she knows exactly what she is doing! And somehow, she knows his exact size, as well.

“Wan’ it…” You whine. “Mommy…” 

If you skimmed through the pages of a dictionary for the meaning of ‘starstruck’, you’d find that face stamped into the page. She gasps, as though you had given her that title by your own accord and conjured the idea yourself. Who knew some measly, kinky nickname could bring the Ada Wong to her knees?

“I wanted to tease you more. Watch you writhe and squirm for me, but how can I resist you?” Her fingers curl under your chin and shift your gaze to hers. “Hmm?” 

“Don’t-Don’t resist, then. It’s hot when you let go.” 

You feel Ada pulsate again beneath you. If you had known you possessed this much power, you would’ve let her between your legs a long time ago.

“Oh, yeah?” 

She spits out a wad of saliva onto her hand and treads lower, circling the rim of your entrance and providing lubrication. 

“Want to see mommy let go?” 

Ada draws you into another kiss, reveling in the way you whimper for more. The abuse of your mouth did not end with just her on top of you, clearly. She ventures into more aggressive efforts, biting into your lips and sucking on your lax tongue. Those cat-like claws reach for your nipple, pinching and playing with your sensitivity. 

The tip of the dildo poking at your dripping entrance catches you off guard. You are not granted another second to process before it passes that barrier, stretching you out with its thickness. The kiss is broken as a pathetic cry gasps from your slack jaw, eyes rolling into the back of your skull. 

“M-Mommy, fuck-!” 

The visceral reaction you have only intensifies the deeper Ada sinks the toy into you, protruding gentle thrusts to ease you into the severity. And she is just eating up every sound and shiver she can pull out of you. 

Your brain and body are now entirely controlled by your libido as she accelerates from her slow, torturous rhythm. All misty and sweaty, you reach your hand down to rub a sensitive spot she had neglected in favor of your abusing your poor guts. She slaps your hand away harshly. 

With a glance of confusion, still masked in sheer desire, you look to see how Ada still has that familiar look of animalistic fervor on her face.

"Ah, ah, ah. Can't touch what belongs to mommy."

From there, you resort to clinging to the sheets as if you were hanging from a tall building and this bed was a saving hand. All you want is more, more, more. 

“Not fond of that, are we?” Ada laughs as though this were all some funny joke. She licks a stray tear cascading down your cheek. “You’re okay, petal. Mommy will take care of you.”

You swear you felt your heart do a cartwheel when you see her reach for the vibrator. Fucking finally. Holding it up for you to see, Ada clicks the button and the vigorous vibrations spring to life.

“This what you want?” 

“Yes!”

That damned chortle of hers is dark, so goddamned sinful. Yet still, it festers an unknown, desperate ache inside of you.

The toy lurks down, your hyperventilating breaths hastening with every passing second, before finally making contact with your sex. And all those awful, poorly-made pornos were right about these things: they’re fucking lethal.

“F-Fuck, yes!”

You swear you can feel your melted brain ooze out of your ears, replaced by some sex-hungry fiend who's receiving their first fill in years. The quivering motions of the vibrator and the thick girth plunging into your gushing heat has your back arching, just the same as all those pornstars.

And Ada — oh, she couldn’t be happier to be here with you. 

There is no high quite like those desperate hands clinging to her naked skin for stability as you lose yourself to euphoria. She could die right in this moment; some random past enemy of hers could barge in and blow her brains out. Still, it would not be enough to even waver the state of nirvana pervading all her senses. It is more than she could have ever asked for.

A sudden heat permeates throughout your sex and robs all attention of yours. It is a sensation you have never felt before, even when your ex-partners were buried inside your body. Ada can sense it, as well. 

“That’s it! Come on now!” 

One last squeal of “mommy-!” and you’re toppling over the edge of orgasm with no promise of salvation. 

It plunges into you like a parasite and strikes like a harsh punch to the gut. The intensity prevails and perfuses through your abused, numb body. It’s all just you, your weak form, and the vehemence coursing through you. The delectation leaves no inch of you untouched, either, as though it were a greedy poison scavenging for any last sliver of you it can touch.

Through the strength of it all, Ada clings to you tighter and guides you through the land of cloud nine. It is all almost too good to be true, this idyllic moment. She stalks your reflection in the mirror and reprimands herself for not installing cameras to capture this perfect, once-in-a-lifetime moment.

Any lingering doubts Ada had of whether keeping you with her was the best decision for your well-being have all been squashed. Christ, if it wasn’t settled before, it certainly is now.

You are never escaping Ada Wong. Whether you like it or not.

Because God, you are lethal. 

And Ada has never known what it would feel like to be on the receiving end of such violence, with ecstasy and delirium carved into the knife you brandish. This knife remains lodged in her chest long after you’ve both succumbed to mind-numbing pleasure, the sharp metal twitching with every beat her sensitive heart passes.

Your skin is warm and soft from the muscle-soothing bath taken after, complemented by the taste of Chardonnay and chocolate-covered strawberries you both enjoyed while soaking in the bubbles. 

You’ve now been nestled beneath the covers back in the master bedroom. You’re dressed in silken pajamas and teetering on the edge of unconsciousness, laid upon Ada’s chest and listening to the lulling rhythm of her heartbeat. 

After a long period spent with Ada forcing you to give her kisses, she finally grants your groggy self some much-needed rest. Her hands still leave loving caresses on every fraction of flesh she can reach, nonetheless. She has to stifle a chuckle when you’re out like a light in mere seconds.

Much like any other night, Ada’s mind is overwhelmed with love. All of which babble and ramble about you, you, you, and only you.

The head that possesses wit and character like she has never seen before, cheeks she squeezes like an adorable baby when she just can’t resist, lips that are surely capable of killing a man with the emotion they can provoke — all attributes that constitute the enigma Ada loves most. 

A neck that conjures the dulcet melody that is your voice, shoulders forever adorned in a blanket of her kisses, a chest that protects the heart she’d tear the world asunder to keep safe — all attributes that constitute the angel Ada loves most.

Arms that always pull her into a sugar-sweet embrace after a torturous day at work, hands that could rival a kitten’s paw with its sheer softness, hips that with one sway could surely turn all evil in this disgusting world to good — all attributes that constitute the deity Ada loves most.

Sex that even the greatest poets couldn’t utilize all human languages to encapsulate, legs you’d find etched into renaissance paintings hung in grand museums, feet that strut straight into her life and robbed her of all clarity — all attributes that constitute the one with full possession of Ada Wong and her weak heart.

The one she has loved wholly for over six years and will do so forevermore.

“Sweet dreams, petal…” 

One last kiss to your forehead and Ada falls asleep just like that. Lips pressed against your skin and cocooned in the warm shell of her devotion. Just the way it should be. 

Just the way it will remain for eternity, no matter what she has to do to keep you in her arms.

Once more, with every day the fog settles, you have come to learn several new things. 

Oh, how Leon Kennedy and Ada Wong love Y/N L/N. 

It is evident throughout every day, where fragments of their adoration are sprinkled into every moment you spend together.

Life with these two is a humble routine, but sporadic in the same breath. You receive whiplash from the constant oscillation between a cozy cabin in the woods to a sky-high penthouse in the city.

Ada is suave and sneaky, always maintaining a sharp eye for anything out of place and utilizing it to keep you close by. She’ll tuck a flower behind your ear with an ardent kiss, before demanding her workers to clean the bloody footprints left on her pristine floors. With a few more well-placed touches and expensive gifts, you’ll remain oblivious to the violence that treads behind the scenes. Exactly how Ada needs it, where your protection and happiness is ensured.

There is no need to take that aloof, red-adorned exterior to heart, either. Not when the other locked door across the lust-induced room tells a different story. Just don’t be surprised if you see her venturing past that threshold in the dead of night, hours drifting by without her parting ways.

Leon is the closest human personification of a loyal guard dog. Hooked to your side, you have no choice but to endure the suffocating protection and affections he forces onto you. It certainly does not help when you find him lurking in dark corners, staring at you like some Peeping Tom, before showering you in candied praises and gratitude for mending the shattered remains of his heart.

There is no need to take that territorial, puppy-dog exterior to heart, either. Not when the cameras littered around the cabin tell a different story. Just don’t be surprised if you feel the presence of eyes looming over your shoulder, watching your every move in complete entrancement.

Time continues to pass of this routine and these facts further cement themselves into your life. 

The year is now striding through September, where the Summer heat eases and you’re cradled by harsher winds and descending leaves. It is troubling to believe it has nearly been a whole year since this fiasco began, but you have managed to survive this long, if that proves anything.

As another week spent in Ada’s residence meets its end, you nestle yourself on one of the many luxurious couches and watch as the sun sets over the horizon. Here, you anticipate Leon’s return.

Despite how much easier it would be to travel by yourself, Leon insists on coming here and joining you on the plane ride to his cabin. Strange, but as clingy as he is, you do not find yourself surprised by these antics. He is meant to arrive the following morning, as well, but you can’t recall the last time he has ever followed these rules.

Just as you anticipated, a whistle pierces through the air and grasps your attention. When you turn toward the sound, you find Leon Kennedy. Adorned in that familiar sheepskin jacket and lopsided, love-induced smile. He whispers your name breathlessly and makes a swift dash toward you. 

The way he engulfs you into a tenacious embrace, any outsider would think he was a soldier finally returning to his devoted spouse after years apart. In reality, it has only been a week. But, what the strangers outside are unaware of is how a single hour is too much for Leon’s weak heart to fathom, hence his obnoxious disposition whenever he greets you after mere seconds apart.

And just as predicted, his lips then meet yours in a grueling affection. No matter how much time passes, you’ll always find yourself astounded from just how needy and demanding his kisses are. As though he were trying to consume you whole; as though he were trying to become so close, no one will know where you start and he ends.

When Leon’s empty hunger is finally (albeit temporarily) satiated from your lips, he then reverts to peppering an onslaught of more kisses across your face. On your nose, cheeks, forehead, eyes, jaw — he revels in the boisterous laughter it summons from you. Music to his ears, he always finds himself remarking.

Before your giggling fit can ease, Leon then positions himself mere inches away from you. Much to your horror, he indulges himself in his most favorite game: freeze and stare. A game you have become quite familiar with.

"There you are… Just let me look at you..." 

And that is exactly what he does. Watches you. Perusing every detail upon your face and gushing over the raw beauty sewn into your flesh. There is no denying how horrifically obsessed this man is with you, that is for certain.

Uncomfortable beneath his scrutiny, you scour through your brain for a plausible reason to escape this. With the excuse of needing to retrieve some items you had forgotten to pack, complemented by asking if he’d like to help you obtain such, Leon is folding like a cheap suit and abiding by whatever demands you throw his way.

Like a dog on a leash, Leon follows your lead as you venture up the marble staircase, down the hall, and through the door of Ada’s in-home office. Per her request, she asked you to pack heavy for your return to his cabin. 

You fear it implies you will be stuck in those woods for God-knows how long, but with the perceptible elation in her expression, stronger than ever before, you know this theory weighing in your brain is not feasible.

Knowing Ada, she would never be so joyous to leave your side. Especially when it is Leon Kennedy taking her place.

Nonetheless, you brush off the peculiarity and do exactly what she asked of you. And what you certainly couldn’t part from was your beloved opossum plushy, who had made a home in Ada’s office on the leather sofa.

When you take the plushy into your grasp, you take the moment to smooth out the ruffled tufts of faux fur on his body. You adjust the ribbon ensnared around his neck and ensure he is in spectacular shape. Who knows, maybe on the drive back to the cabin, you’ll both stumble into another lady raccoon your furry buddy may want to impress.

One last pat to the opossum’s cotton-filled head and you adjust him comfortably in your bag, engulfing him between the several quilts and pillows you intend to bring with you. It is a lengthy trip back to the cabin for the three of you, after all.

When you turn around to leave, expecting a certain secret agent to follow close by, you’re shocked to look over your shoulder and find the exact opposite. Instead of clinging to you like a pesky illness, per usual, Leon hovers over Ada’s desk, instead. Entranced by something he had plucked from the surface.

“Leon? What is it…?” You question, taking careful steps toward him. 

When you halt beside him, you find his shuddering body overwhelmed with heaving breaths, evident rage latched to every rasping exhale. You peek over his broad shoulder to see what conjured such a tyrannical reaction out of him, only to just be met with bafflement.

In his grasp are two small strips of paper, shivering in his shaky grasp. One-way plane tickets to Rome. Yours and Ada’s names stamped on the sheets. Scheduled for that very night.

While your brain is scouring about, searching for some logical explanation, Leon has the entire story painted for him in exquisite detail.

Ada intends to take you from him. And never in his life has he touched a surface of fury so scorching.

He has never been fond of her, but he has grown to trust her in this period of time. Only in the capacity regarding you, yes, but there was still some level of trust evident. 

She’s a damn good fighter, after all. He knows she’d protect you by all means necessary and to never lay a hand on you, but he should’ve known she’d eventually manipulate her tools to take you away from him.

Leon should’ve known she’d resort to such drastic measures in the end, as he planned on doing the very same. He intended to take advantage of his role in the Torrents Capture-Force group and send an army of trained soldiers to assassinate her. Plain and simple. Then, he’d be granted his desire of eternity by your side.

Now, there is a loose thread in his plans. And it is wearing a red dress and leaving gloss-stained kisses upon the skin of the one he loves most.

Leon does not utter a single word. Instead, he chucks the crumbled fragments of paper to the ground and rushes past you, vanishing from the office in several large strides. 

You follow suit, while trying to assure him of how it was surely a mistake. In your head, you concluded the tickets were intended as a surprise vacation, but Ada had simply left Leon’s ticket in a different location. None of your efforts succeeded, as Leon continues on far ahead of you.

Before you can begin your descent down the stairs, though, something strange catches your eye. 

Those two locked doors, mirroring each other. 

You know what lies behind one of the doors, where Ada has restrained your limbs and reduced your brain to puddled mush more times than you can count. You have yet to see what lies behind the opposite door, however.

As you stand here, you find that very door unlocked and ajar.

Curiosity getting the better of you, you abandon your attempts at assuaging Leon’s emotions and shift your attention to the door. When you take a peek inside, just a mere peak, your heart plunges into your stomach the second your eyes adjust to the contents of the room.

The floors, walls, and ceiling are entirely made of cement, accompanied by a cheap lightbulb swaying from above. As though someone was just in here. 

The entire expanse is empty, besides the two metal chairs centered in the middle of the room. The leather restraints around the arms and legs of the chairs are now loose. All that is left upon the metal surface are stained splatters of deep-red blood.

Instead of trying to find a reasonable conclusion, your brain falls silent. All you can do is stare in stunned silence as your heart rages in violent, accelerating thumps.

You are only torn from this trance when a shout echoes from downstairs. It is met with deafening silence, accompanied by what you think is an occasional grunt and bang through the thick walls. One last glance of uncertainty into the room and you finally turn tail, rushing down the stairs and toward the source of the roaring sound.

Stumbling into the living room, chest rising and falling in rapid rhythm, you find yourself frozen in place once again when you discover the very last thing you expected. Leon has been thrown to the ground, evident in the shattered coffee table and surrounding clutter. 

On top of him is Carlos. 

He looks like a feral animal, snarling and barring his teeth as though the blonde beneath him were prey he has been dying to sink his teeth into. His fists just plunge into Leon’s bloodied skull again and again and again and again and again and again and again and- 

A soft hand meets your forearm, causing you to whip around to discern the sudden presence. 

Behind you is Jill.

Battered and bruised, covered in a mess of infected cuts and wounds, a gasp of your name bridges on her lips. Through her brutalized appearance, you find sheer euphoria sparkling in her blue eyes at the sight of you. Just like how she has always seen you: a drop of purity through the drowning blood.

Before a breathless syllable of your name can reach the air, you’re shoved out of the way and Jill is tackled to the ground. You identify Ada through the flash of speed, crawling on top of your injured ex-lover and beating her within an inch of her life.

Underneath the weight of the chaos, all you can think about is how you’ve already seen this movie before. You have a track record of running, you have a track record of staying. But, hey, third times a charm, right?

Should you flee and pray to God this group of secret agents and detectives never find you? Or should you use what little combat skills you have and attempt to fight off four military-trained soldiers?

When push comes to shove, however, you do know one thing as a definite fact. 

You never should’ve stepped a fucking foot into Raccoon City.

⁺ 🎧 , 🪷 you are currently listening to . . . ⁺ 🪺 , 🎵 ꪆ

THE BONUS TRACK !

❝ I REARRANGE MY MEMORIES

I TRY TO REWRITE OUR LIFE . . . ❞

here is what i imagined leon's cabin to look like: one. two. three. four. five. six.

and here is what i imagined ada's penthouse to look like: one. two. three. four. five. six.

(also, i saw this pic of leon with his hair slicked back and……………. you couldn’t pay me to not somehow implement this here….)

gif creds :: leon & ada.

You sit with your friends at a lunch table while you eye miss popular chortle it out with her friends. Valery Magnolia, the highly praised daughter of two famous doctors and the owners of Magnolia Medical Center. Tch. People say she’ll become just as knowledgeable about medicine like her parents, maybe even start her own clinic. But for now, you and her are in high school in your junior year. And besides, it’s public knowledge that she’s dating the quarter back Jaydee B Hallaghar, brother to the famous runway model Dante T Hallaghar. You scoff to yourself, why do you even care? Matter of factly, why are you so fixed on looking at her? You’re being foolish, and you know it.

“I heard she’s killed some people.” You whip your head around at your friend Tylers vicious statement. He stabs a fork in his undercooked meat and the only thing he ate so far were the tatter tots. He seems to notice your bewildered gaze. “Y‘’know, like when she operated on some patients she kinda fucked it up and killed ‘em. Since her parents are rich and famous and a real big deal in our city they were able to cover it up, mostly.”

“Your crazy, she may be a prissy bitch but I don’t think she is a killer.”

“I bet her victims thought that too.”

“Whatever.” You stand up with your tray in hand and you look back to Tyler. “Come on, let’s go to the rooftop.” Tyler again picks at his meat, you don’t know why you know he won’t eat it.

“Won’t we get in trouble? Again?”

“Tyler, we always get in trouble going up there, what’s the difference now.” Tyler pushes his chair back and cocks his head to his rear.

“Like, what if we get suspended or something?”

“Then we’ll just get a break from this hellhole they call ‘school’.”

Your feet dangles of the edge. Your school is only three stories high so everything is fairly close. Even now, the people that are on the ground don’t look as small as some would say. But maybe that’s just because your not high enough. Your friends lays on his back a cigar in his mouth. You don’t tell him that the smell bothers you.

“Do you ever have wet dreams about anyone?” You look at him disgusted.

“You are genuinely such a gross person. Why is every thought you have so lewd?”

“Why isn’t your thoughts lewd enough?” He sits up in a crisscrossed position, throwing his cigar off the roof top he then turns to face you. “So, do you?” You avert your gaze from him.

“Once, but it was about my ex and they were a shit show so I don’t like to think about it.”

“Fair,” Tyler picks at his pocket pulling out another cigar. “I’ve had a few, most of them are about a certain Magnolia girl.” You actually wish to puke.

“No seriously, what’s your obsession with her? Wet dreams? You even know her whole ass schedule and not to mention all the theories you have on her.” Tyler thinks for a moment.

“It was in elementary. We had a school project and you know how I was in school, a total freak! No one wanted to be my partner, no one but Valery. She decided to be my partner when she could’ve just chosen one of her hundred friends. She sometimes smiles at me in the hallways. You think she remembers?”

“So a girl was nice to you once and now you have these intense yucky feelings?” You say nonchalantly.

“Pretty much.”

A few minutes later you hear the school bell and you say your god yes to Tyler because he always leaves first and because you have different classes. But also because you like the view here. The tees sway nice and the grass looks more lively. But when you lift yourself up to finally get to your locker and head to class you feel yourself slip.

Instead of rearing back into the rooftop you sway forth and you find yourself tumbling down. When you hit the floor you hear cracks, not a crack but many all at once at the same time. Blood pools from all parts of your body but you can’t find it in you to scream. Because you can’t. Your throat hurts too much and with every breath you take the more excruciating it is. You hear heels click on the floor rushing to you. It’s your guidance counselor. She screams for you to stay awake and to not sleep but you can’t hear her well, you can’t really see well either. Everything is blurry.

The last thing you feels is your body being shaken and the odd sound of muffled yelling and the beeping of a number being dialed.

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

You wake with a ache in your head, no it’s not there, it’s everywhere.

You try to sit up straight but the physical pain you feel is so raw you let out a gasp.

“Careful.” A stern voice states from your side. You turn your head to see that it’s none other than Jacob Magnolia, the father to Valery. “What were you thinking trying to commit suicide like that? Twenty of your bones have been fractured and two broken.”

“I didn’t—“

“Please, quiet. When your guidance counselor saw you on the ground do you know who she was with?” You shake your head. “Well, I guess that is to be expected. She was with my daughter. My little girl had to watch an almost dead body.”

“But sir that isn’t my fu—“ Dr. Jacob puts his finger to your mouth to silence you.

“Enough, I already have enough patients to deal with.” It was then that the door to your room creaked open and a girl tepidly stepped inside.

“Daddy? Are you in there? Um, are they alright?”

Well fuck.

Of course, it has to be Valery Magnolia barging into the room like this.

“They’ll be just fine darling. Do you mind watching over them for a bit? I have to check on some of my other patients.” Valery moves inside the room and sits by a chair close to your bed.

“Sure, I don’t mind.” Valery’s dad thanks her before stepping out of the room. It is now that she turns to look at you. “Are you alright?”

“Do I look alright? Twenty-two of my bones are fucking gone.” Your voice is dread-filled but funny enough it actually made Valery chuckle.

“They aren’t gone, they are just damaged. They’ll be fine in a couple of months. You can trust me on this.” She gives you a genuine smile.

“Lucky me.” Your voice is muffled but you didn’t really care.

“Do you want some water? I can get you it.”

“Trust me, the only way I’ll be able to have fluids circling my body is through feeding tubes. There is absolutely no way of my standing up, you can trust me on this, I’ve tried.” Again, you’ve managed to get Miss Popular to laugh.

“Well, I can tell you I’ll try my best to make you as comfortable as I am able. My name is Va—“

“Valery yes I know. And I guess this is where I tell that my name is Y/n.” She looks almost taken aback, almost.

“I didn’t know you already knew of me. Can I ask how? We’ve never met each other before.” For the first time meeting her, you wanted to slap her across the face.

“You literally saw my bleeding body on school grounds which should tell you that we are from the same school. Also, I have you in four different periods, and that's besides lunch. But I guess since you’re so popular and loved you don’t have time to notice the background of things. Am I right?” Valery’s lips creased into a thin line before she tried to force them into a lukewarm smile.

“I didn't know you felt so strongly about my reputation at school. But that doesn’t matter now, does it? You’re injured and I’ve already told you I’ll do anything to ensure your maximum comfort. And don’t be weary, I have quite an extensive knowledge of medicine and the human body. You’re in safe hands, I promise.”

“Are you sure about that?” Valery places a hand on your shoulder in an attempt to give comfort.

“Let’s not be so hasty to one another, besides it’s the first-way ticket to a sour relationship and I don’t feel in the mood to create an association like that. So please, for my sake and yours let’s be cordial with one another.” as she says this her hand is still in place.

“Will you agree to stop touching me if I agree to let you be my temporary ‘doctor.’” Valery nods her head enthusiastically.

“Fine. But only for a week and then I would like a certified doctor to care for me, for my peace of mind.”

“Of course.”

The first day Valery comes into your room, she comes with a feeding tube. You didn't expect her to take you so seriously but then again you weren't exaggerating so you don't mind.

“You said you needed these? Please be still while I attach this to you.”

“Won't I have to go under for that?” Valery simply gives a tight smile.

“No, not for this case. Anyways, won’t you be good and be still while I apply this to you?” You vehemently cringe internally. But you ultimately let her.

“Good.” She whispers. “I want to ask, how was your life like at school? I mean, since I am considered popular and student body president I had a lot of pressure and work to do. I wonder what it’s like for you, for someone so…average.” You seriously don’t think she’s talked to anyone that wasn’t obscenely rich.

“Well, uh, I guess it was normal? Um, I didn’t do anything. I mean I went to some after-school clubs but fewer than one-fourth of the school knew me. But I didn’t care about popularity I had my people and family and I was doing pretty good in class so I didn’t care. But my friends sure did care about you.”

“Really?” Valery’s ears perked. “What do they say, what do people say about me?”

“Well, most of them just gawk at the floor you walk on, I don’t think they're above licking your shoes for you.”

“Gross.” She states, you agree.

“Others…well others are indifferent. They don’t care about you nor do they want to. Did you hear about the rumor of you killing some of your patients from performing surgery on them?” Valery goes rigid.

“Really? Who said this about me?”

“Oh um, no one in particular, just something I heard while walking the hallway.” You lied.

“Well, what do you think of me?” You can almost feel her hold her breath as in waiting for your response to decide if she should continue or stop.

“Well, I guess a day ago I would say that you were just a snobbish prude.” You can see her visibly wince, “but after what happened yesterday I see you as a more humble person, I think. Um, I guess you're cool.” Valery breathes a sigh of relief.

“I’m glad.” She murmurs.

On the second day, Valery comes with a care package.

“Tada! All my friends have pitched in to make this for you.” You can’t move your body yet so you try as best as you can to see with your eyes. “Oh no no! Don’t push yourself Y/n, here just lay there and I’ll show you one by one what’s inside. When you are perfectly healthy you can take it for your own. Hm? Yeah?” You have no energy to decline so you just accept it. But instead of sitting in a chair, Valery decided to sit next to you on your bed.

“You’re pretty when you sleep.” She says absentmindedly but when she notices the concern in your eyes she elaborates. “Daddy had some tweezers here he needed and I opted to help, it was then that I saw you asleep. Not to sound creepy but you’re a nice sleeper.” She creeps into the care package and pulls out plushie after plushie and decorated them on your bed.

“There! Now, whenever you sleep a piece of me will always be there to take care of you, as a true doctor would.” You nod slowly, trying to follow whatever the hell she’s saying. But then you notice her looking glum.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Sure I guess.” She propositions herself so that she looks directly at you.

Her voice is unsure, “a-am I a whore?”

Well, you weren’t expecting that.

“It’s just, sometimes I hear from my friends that some of the kids at school think I’m a whore because I have a lot of guy friends. Hell, even my boyfriend is getting agitated by it.”

“Is he getting agitated at you or at what they're saying?” Her eyes widen as if no one has ever asked her that. “Because trust me, If your boyfriend decides to believe the rumors instead of you then he isn’t worth it. I mean, If you were my girlfriend I’d put you above all else. Don’t settle for what you know you don’t deserve.” She regards you for a moment. Like static electricity, never once blinking. If you weren’t too busy looking at the big blue teddy bear you may have gone a little spooked.

“And to answer your other question, I think we all are whores. It may not be for sex but it is for something. My friend is a whore for cigarettes and I am a whore for breaking the rules and seeing how far I can go without getting in too deep shit. I can’t exactly say what you are a whore for, but if it’s what your thinking then no. I don’t think you go after guys just for the sex they offer. Not anymore.” Valery grabs a fistful of the bed sheets and clenches them around her hands. She has to take deep and protracted breaths to prevent herself from crying tears of relief.

“Thank you Y/n, thank you so much.”

“It’s whatever.”

“No.” She reaches to take your arm in hers. “It means a lot to me, thank you.” She looks unsure of whether to say her next sentence or not, but when she looks at you and realizes how badly she wants this she can’t help herself.

“Can I hug you? Y/n, can I please hug you?”

“Valery do you still not realize I have twenty-two Broken bones, if you hug me no matter how light it was I think you would break a few more.”

“Two broken bones” she clarifies, “you have twenty fractured bones and two broken bones. Remember?”

“Yeah yeah same shit.” Valery can’t help but smile.

“Then can I stay here, for a few more minutes with you?” When she realizes she’s getting no response from you she looks at you worriedly only to have her tense muscles relax to see your sleeping face. She told you, you had a pretty face while sleeping. When she looks at you urges so raw bubbles in her stomach. But she holds herself back, no, now is not the time.

Valery is not stupid. She knows that the feelings she feels for you is far from normal, but she doesn’t care. She could care less when she has you to worry about. It’s officially been two weeks since you’ve been in the hospital and though it may be selfish to say but Valery has been enjoying every second of it. She appreciated the bond you’ve formed with her and she is delated in the process of taking care of you.

She almost wishes you were like this forever!

Now, Valery is standing at a porch, her hands knocking on a door. She’s knocked on this door many times before but today seems to be different. And she is giddy about it. The door creeks as orange heels step into the frame.

“Dante, I didn’t expect for you to have a shoot right now.”

“If you become as famous as me, you won’t have time to be free. Every hour there is a new shoot, and right here and now I’m wasting my time with you.” That’s Dante for you.

“I want to speak with Jaydee.” She gives Valery an odd look. “Is something wrong.” She shrugs.

“Is that all? Just Jaydee? What happened to: Scrumpie-pumpkin, Sugar-cakes, Snuggluffagus, Tubba Wubba or—“

“That is enough.” Again Valery is restraining everything in her to not lunge at Dante. “This is important.”

“Well you aren’t going to speak with him today, he’s helping this new kid tutoring.” Valery can feel her teeth clench. Yes that new kid, Jaydee’s friend Oscar made a bet with him to see how long he could get them to fall for him.

“Then do you mind telling him this?”

“Make it quick, I only have so much time to get to my shoot.”

“Im breaking up with him, I’ve found someone much better.” She can feel herself foaming at the mouth.

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

She should feel ashamed.

Today is the day of your discharge. Your bones have finally healed but Valery doesn’t want this to end. She doesn’t want to stop doting on you. Which is why she asks you a proposition.

“Go on a date with me.” You almost choke on your coffee.

“Say what?”

“Go on a date with me.” When seeing your expression she immediately goes to try and justify it. “You know b-because we hung around each other these past few months. You don’t even have to see it as a date, just a um, parting gift?”

“Valery, I see you tomorrow at school. It’s not like I’m a vulture, I’m not going to disappear.”

“I-I know that! Just come to my house, oh uh, let’s go 7:30pm huh? We can watch a movie or something, your choice!” She gives you a beaming smile in a sly chance to waver your answer in her favor.

“Okay sure, fine.”

She feels a sigh of relief. Before you know it she’s tackling you in a hug, her face squished against your cheek. If you cared to notice, you would realize how closer her lips were to your mouth, and how tight her hold was on you.

“Oh, thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you! I promise you won’t regret this!”

You did

When Valery told you she lived in an apartment down Boulevard Street you expected her to be living in one unit. But then again this is Boulevard Street, home to all the filthy rich people. So imagine your surprise when you realize that Valery lives in all the units! Like, each unit has a different purpose! It wasn’t until one of the guards that guarded the main entrance told you that the apartment complex is the Magnolia’s family personal estate. All of it.

What was the point of a humungous garage then?

It seemed the guard already knew of your relation to Valery, considering how ready he was to help you. He leads you up the stairs, which again, you don’t understand why you couldn’t just use the darn elevator.

“Right this way.” He leads you to the first door on the eleventh floor.

“Thank you.” You smile and knock on the door.

It was already open.

You don’t seem to mind or be concerned considering the number of guards and protection in this place. If you lived here you wouldn’t even feel the need to lock the door! You step inside and are taken aback at how beautiful and spacious and how wondrous everything is.

“Lady Magnolia is in her bedroom, to the left.” You point your gaze that way and you can definitely tell that it is Valery’s room. The handle is pink, which you learned is her favorite color, and there is a picture on her door. Before you approached it you merely thought it was a portrait of her friends altogether but upon closer inspection you’re horrified to see that it’s you. The picture is of you in the hospital bed, sleeping. On the paper, there is an outlined word in all caps: MINE.

You open the door without a second thought. Stepping inside you see that her wall(s) is covered in pictures of you! Some of the photos are photoshopped, indulging in the idea of you…dating her.

You feel bile creeping up your throat.

You then walk to her desk, that too is covered in pictures and pictures of you. This time you actually vomit a little when you notice some pictures of Valery fondling breasts/crotch. There is no way this could be legal.

It is now that you notice definite CDs on her bedroom floor. You notice a DVD drive on her bed, and her laptop there too. You rush gathering the CDs in your hand and hopping into the bed. You were no expert but if Valery showed this much infatuation with you then you don’t think it would be above her to alter her life completely and the pursuit of you. Which is why you typed your name as the password.

……SIGHING IN.

You cannot believe that this is happening to you.

Quickly you plug the CDs into the DVD drive and the. Into the computer.

Perhaps you were just too stunned because you couldn’t stop watching, from file to file you watched everything that Valery would do while you were unaware of everything taking place. You genuinely thought she could’ve been a friend to you.

You hear footsteps

It’s already too late to hide what you have been doing

“Y/N…” you’ve never turned your head faster in your life.

“Valery—“

“I can e-explain!” You definitely want to see how that would play off.

“How are you going to justify fucking yourself on my hospital gown!” Valery is caught off guard, she didn’t expect you to see that. “You can’t explain it, can you? That’s why you’re so despondent.”

“No!” She hurriedly replied.

“Oh yeah? Then how do you explain the pictures? Huh! How do you explain every single one of your walls being covered in pictures of me! How do you explain that!”

“I had to!” She cries, cornering you into a wall. You can see tears prick her eyes. Her arms are on each side of you, barricading you. She stutters as she says, “You have no idea what it was like! I-I needed you with me—I still need you with me! Never, have I felt so genuinely cared for by another person before you! I n-never could have let you go even if I wanted to. P-please Y/N, try to understand my point of view. I-I love you.”

You slap her across the face.

“Bullshit!” You take a step closer to her, but she doesn’t budge, intent on keeping you enclosed like this. “I heard about the rumors of you and Jaydee breaking up,” you take anther look at the bedroom “but honestly I think your just using me to get over him—“

“That isn’t true! I was the one to break things off with him, and I did it because I wanted to be with you!” She withdrew her hands from the walls and went to cup your face. “I never felt so sure of something in my life before, but I knew, I just knew that you are the one for me. A-and in time I’m positive I’ll be the one for you! We can even operate on patients together—“

“Fuck no!” You push her off of you. “Why would I ever think of becoming lovers with you, especially now? You-you’ve done so many terrible things to me while I was asleep. You violated my body!”

“No I didn’t! I made love to you before we could do it consciously together! I couldn’t help myself, I needed you so badly and I wanted to make you feel good too so I guess I got a little carried away but I never violated you!”

“That is literally one of the ways you could violate someone! Using their body without their knowledge or consent! Have you gone crazy Valery?” It’s now that she breaks into harrowing smile.

“If it’s for you then yes.” You shake you head disgusted at her.

“I can’t believe you, I thought we were friends!”

“We are! We can continue to still be friends! And something’s more! I know you love me Y/N, you’re just too scared and timid to admit it. I know you are!”

“You are actually psycho!”

“No I’m not!” You shake your head, looking at the door you devise a plan. But Valery is already two steps ahead of you.

“Don’t you dare think about—“ you dash to the door as fast as you can but fall to your knees from a sharp pain. When looking back to Valery, you notice a rifle on her hands, how she got it you’ll never know.

You wake with a searing pain in your head. You realize you’re strapped onto a rather comfy cot with a body next to you huddling for warmth. It’s then do you realize it’s Valery. You try to scream but there is a gag in your mouth. You also realized that you’ve been completely changed of clothes.

Valery stirs from her supposed sleep.

“Your awake.” She murmurs, you glare. “You must still be mad at me…” she seems genuinely disheartened by it. “I know there isn’t much I could say to soothe you, but, Baby you know I would die without you right? So don't leave just yet.”

Well with you bound up like this you have no chance of ever going to!

“You must wonder where we are, it’s another unit in the Apartment complex that my parents use for extra patients. Actually there are several units for that but this one is specially for you.” She seems hesitant before pressing a chaste kiss to your forehead. She seems quite happy with herself.

You slam the door of your boyfriend's apartment, tears flowing down your eyes. How could he? After years and years of commitment and promises of eternal love? For you get dumped just like that? You are furious, the ring on your finger burning against your skin. You have to get it out. You pull it and throw as far away as possible, almost hitting Carlos Oliveira returning home.

"Oh, sorry, Carlos, sorry!" You murmur as he looks at you, tears falling down your eyes. 

"You okay?" Carlos asks, worried. You shake your head, looking down at your feet, sniffling.

Carlos ponders for a moment before opening the door of his apartment. You think he will leave you alone, but he keeps the door open, motioning with his head for you to come in.

-x-

It doesn't take a genius to figure out you broke up with your boyfriend, especially for Carlos Oliveira, who almost got hit by your ring; Carlos never liked your boyfriend that much. He never treated Carlos wrong or anything, but something didn't sit right for him.

It could have been with the fact that on the day your ex moved to the building, Carlos watched you carry a heavy box while your ex carried a much lighter one. Not wanting to jump to any conclusions, Carlos immediately offered you two help, and your eyes went from his muscular arm before looking at his face and thanking him. 

Your ex never liked how comfortable you were with Carlos, but you used to tell him that was nothing to worry about. Because, well, there really wasn't. You would never have cheated on your boyfriend, and Carlos was way out of your league.

That didn't stop you from secretly admiring Carlos. Since your first meeting, the electricity pierced your veins when you accidentally bumped into or touched each other. There was a particular tension even when you two crossed eyes, but nothing you would act on it. 

Today is different.

You enter Carlos's apartment, and he closes the door. You are furious, angry, upset and confused. You sigh, looking around. It is your first time in Carlos's apartment: it is definitely not what you imagined. It is much more comfortable and full of light. You instantly feel safe and much calmer there.

"You want some water?" Carlos's voice comes from the kitchen, and you answer a distracted yes, your eyes wandering around his living room, stopping by his bookshelf.

There are a few pictures in there: one of a much younger Carlos with an older woman, both smiling, which you judged to be his grandmother. Another one of a big black cat with green eyes, which makes you smile.

"I see you found Cascão's picture."

Carlos is at your side, offering you a cup of water. You thank him, drinking it in a few gulps. 

"You have a cool place," You tell him as you are done. The cold water feels good against your throat. "Not what I would have imagined, anyway."

"Not as manly?" Carlos teases, and you shake your head, embarrassed. He chuckles. "Don't worry, I get that a lot. Not what you would imagine from a guy like me."

Carlos and you cross stares as he finishes saying this, and a chill goes down your spine. The tension is palpable in the air, especially after you notice Carlos probably just came from the gym: his hair is wet, some droplets in his dark jacket. Your eyes go down to his gray pants, and you are gulping. You shake your head, placing the cup on his bookshelf before you mumble an apology and move to the exit. Carlos holds gently into your arm, his dark eyes scanning your expression.

"You didn't tell me what happened," Carlos whispers, his tone so soft and caring that your legs turn into jelly.

You should leave now, you think. You should leave before you commit some sort of mistake with Carlos. Ignore that he is also breathing rapidly, his dark eyes focused on your lips. Ignore your heart beating fast against your chest and your body screaming to kiss him.

But that's what you do. You kiss him, and Carlos doesn't open his mouth back when you lock your lips with his. You separate, thinking you screwed up.

"I am sorry, I shouldn't have—" You start before Carlos holds into your shoulders, scanning if you are serious.

"No," Carlos answers, his eyes focused on you. "But do you want this?"

You nod. You have never been more sure of something in your entire life.

-x-

You are in Carlos's bed in no time. You know you want this: you have wanted this since the first time you saw him. Carlos kisses your neck brings you back to the present as he takes the last piece of your clothing, your panties.

If you knew you would be in Carlos's bed, you would have worn something more sexy. He doesn't seem to mind your cringy comfortable pair of panties, no, his eyes are full of desire from the top of your head to your toes. He is engraving you on his mind, taking you all in. You are much, much more beautiful than he imagined; how many times has he touched himself and fantasized about you spread like that in his bed?

"Are you still sure about this? Last chance."

"I want you, Carlos. Always had."

Your confession seems to awaken something in him, and Carlos doesn't have to hear more. He shoves two fingers inside your wet cunt, making your back arch. Your hands look for him, anything you can hold, as Carlos fingers you, keeping a steady pace. Carlos watches, fascinated by your pleasure expressions as you bite your lips down. 

This is much better than any fantasy he had.

When Carlos finally, finally hits your pleasure point, his thumb focusing on your clit, you place your hands over your mouth so you don't scream. That's when Carlos realizes: he left his window open, so enchanted with you that he was, curtains and everything. A window right in front of your ex's bedroom. He motions to get up and close, but you hold into him, shaking your head.

"As you wish."

You are so close now, so close. But you don't want to cum without him, but it has been so long since your last orgasm. You try to move away from Carlos to signal you are about to cum, but he keeps you there, his movements much faster now. When you finally cum, your toes curl as your entire body shakes.

Carlos waits for you to recover, your breasts coming up and down. You look at him, drunk with your orgasm, as Carlos finally starts to undress, his eyes never losing contact with yours. Now it is your time to be left speechless: Carlos's body is built like a freaking Greek God or a statue to represent the peak of a male body. Your eyes wander from his toned hairy chest down, his arm, his abs, and his pubic hair. Your eyes widen slightly when you stop by his dick, and you wonder if you will survive tonight. Carlos wants to be gentle, he really wants to, but you bring something feral inside of him.

He needs to have you.

"Ready?" Carlos asks, and you gulp, nodding.

Carlos enters you slowly, groaning, feeling you squeezing down on him. It had also been too long for him: with his line of work, he was allowed a quickie here and maybe his hand at some night. Carlos knows he isn't going to last, not with your pussy squeezing him down so deliciously. You are perfect, made for him. His eyes roll in his head, and he needs a moment inside you to calm down and control himself.

"You are so tight. So warm," Carlos declares, his voice soft.

You can only bite your lips in response, your legs locking around his hips as your arms hold into his back. You need to hold onto something so you don't lose your mind. Before Carlos can start moving, he has a sudden idea.

"Hold tight onto me," He whispers in your ear.

You don't even care what he is about to do, Carlos could do anything with you at this point.

Carlos lifts you from the bed, and you hide your face into his neck, inhaling his smell. Carlos carries you near the wall close to his open window. Your back welcomes the coldness of the wall until he starts moving, poking directly into your cervix. You sob, attempting to keep your voice down.

"Hey, hey, look at me. Look at me." Carlos demands, and you open your eyes to find his staring directly at you: full of passion and lust. "Do not hold back. I want to hear you," Another thrust, making you wince with pleasure. "I want this whole building to hear you."

His hands go to your ass, keeping you steady as he snaps, his balls slapping against your ass. The way Carlos is gazing at you should give you an orgasm alone. It has gotten too much, and your voice comes out loud with every thrust. You scream his name, scream "Harder and faster!" You don't care anymore if the whole building can hear you. You want them to hear.

"That is it... let it all out," Carlos whispers in your ear, satisfied, biting your neck.

You both won't last, and Carlos's thrusts become even more erratic. You pull his hair, moaning incoherent things, when finally, the pressure into your core becomes too much, and you cum, screaming Carlos's name so loud you wouldn't be surprised an innocent bystander by the street could hear you.

"That is it, that is my good girl," Carlos whispers as he gives one final thrust before cumming himself. He grunts, his seed filling your walls, and he hides the face on your neck, giving one final bite.

Carlos slowly pulls away from you, a small, proud smile on his face as he sees small spasms in your body, a satisfied smile on your lips. He carries you into bed, placing you there gently, and when Carlos looks up, he thinks he sees a shadow in your ex's window.

Carlos can't help but smile, closing his curtains before joining you in bed. You seem awake now, and you look embarrassed. Breathless but embarrassed. You look adorable, Carlos thinks.

"You okay? Need water?" Carlos asks, lying at your side. He rests his head on his arm and places his arms around your stomach.

"Yeah. I am fine." Your eyes can't meet his. Carlos is worried you regretted this. He doesn't want to ask, but he decides to joke, "Regretting this already?"

"N-no! No!" You seem shocked, shaking your head. "No! I just- it is complicated."

"I get it. You just broke up with your boyfriend. Things aren't supposed to be easy..."

You sigh, staring into his attentive eyes.

"I don't want you to feel like I have used you, Carlos."

"If that is how it is, I can always be used by you. You call, and I answer." Carlos giggles, content you don't regret him.

"Of course you would," You laugh back, hitting light on his arm.

"I mean, I could invite you to dinner if you want. To make you feel less guilty," Carlos says, the teasing tone disappearing as he looks serious in your direction. You play with the hair on his arms, thinking.

"I would like that," You admit, a warm fuzzy feeling installs on his chest.

"Good."

Your interviewer was the HR manager, Leon Jacobs. He was a stern looking man, clearly in his late 40's, and didn't seem to have a single flaw in his appearance. His age showed in the beginnings of grey hairs atop his tidy, shortcut black hair, and the creases beneath his eyes. His appearance was beyond intimidating. Dark, scowling eyes picked you apart from behind his glasses as you fidgeted in your chair. Whatever nightmare of an interview you thought was coming, never happened. Instead, you were surprised when he almost immediately offered you not only the job, but an even better salary and bonus than was advertised. You were almost too stunned to speak, as he held out his hand to shake, his dark expression lifting with the slightest twitch of his lips. You took his hand shakily in agreement. In your excitement, you didn't notice the way his hand gripped yours a hair too tight, or how his touch lingered for a few moments longer than it should have. The way his gaze intently followed your figure as you walked out was also missed by you.

"We're so happy to welcome you to the team. Our team will make sure your time working here is as pleasant as possible."

Your trainer is a well respected man, Warren Pen. Warren is a huge man, easily towering over you. While he'd be otherwise intimidating at his size, his warm expression and demeanor quickly puts you at ease. How could you be afraid of him, with his warm brown eyes and bouncy red curls and gentle smile? You quickly learned that he must have a pretty high position in the company. His office alone was almost as big as your entire apartment! The office they give you is nearly as big, much to your surprise. Warren reassures you that it's not a mistake, that they just want you to be comfortable in your new position. You are so very important to the company, after all. As he helps you settle in, you're amazed by his generosity and kindness. You're too happy to question why there's such a big office space right next to his open for you, or why such a high ranking worker would be assigned to train a newbie. You're initially confused about why all your other coworkers seem to cower away from him... until you see him lose it on a poor intern. His demeanor changed from a gentle giant to a raging monster within the blink of an eye, screaming at the intern over a simple filing mistake. You find yourself suddenly on your toes around him, waiting for a verbal barrage over one of your mishaps, but it never comes.

"Don't worry, I'd never treat you like that. They deserved it. You're doing perfect."

Your department's boss is a man named Jax Wright. Jax is a charming man, and the childhood best friend of Warren. He's slim and tall, with black hair and a slightly rugged appearance. He always seems to be in a rush, hair usually rustled and a 5 o'clock shadow a constant on his face. Yet, he somehow takes time out of his busy day to visit you. Or, more accurately, he finds the time to corner you when you're alone or with Warren. You don't want to lose this dream of a job, so you don't mention the way the childhood friends always find a way to crowd around you in the more narrow hallways or the breakroom. They insist you have lunch everyday with them, why would you want to eat by yourself? You really shouldn't deny your superiors' lunch requests, y'know. You ignore the lingering touches as he leans in far closer than necessary to examine your work, hands placed possessively on your shoulders. He loves to give you overwhelming praise, even for the most minor of accomplishments. You're afraid your other coworkers will think the worst of you because of the special treatment, but they seem to be avoiding you nearly as much as they avoid Warren.

"Good job. You're exceptional as always. It's been an absolute pleasure to work with you. Keep being good and you're bound for a raise."

With the rest of the department seeming to avoid you like the plague, you start to believe that you're stuck with just the overbearing childhood friends to talk to. That is until the secretary, Jake Moor, begins to talk to you. Jake is flamboyant, to say the least. He's bright, from his beaming white smile to his wide array of cute, colorful ties he matches with his suit. He's young, in his early 20s, and his bright blonde hair only adds to his youthful appearance. He's almost too much, talking at light speed and somehow being more touchy than your boss. He always finds a reason to pull you into hugs, or rustle your hair playfully. It doesn't bother you much though, he's just being friendly, right? And you really don't want to lose one of the few friends you have in the department. He has some sort of treat for you everyday, usually a homemade meal or pastry you have to find the time to eat alone before you're coworkers steal you away to have lunch with them. His cheerful nature motivates you to stay with the company, he really is your "beacon of light". You even find yourself giggling to yourself as he sends you silly motivational cat pictures throughout your day. He's so cute you don't even question how he got your number when you never gave it to him yourself. You do find it a bit odd that he knows exactly where to go when your car breaks down one day and he gives you a ride home, but you'd told him you lived in those apartments on the east side, remember? He'd never use his position to look at confidential paperwork. Never.

"I brought you in some cookies I baked last night, and here, I even made some dog treats! I've never made them before, let me know how he likes them! How did I know you have a dog? ...you told me, remember? Silly!"

As the weeks pass, you start to become more accustomed to your coworker's odd mannerisms. They still wear on you, but the money is just so good. You need it, where else would you even go? There's no chance you'd find anything near as good, if you found anything at all. You needed this job, Jax and Warren's overbearing natures aside. At least you had Jake, who always seems to know exactly what you need whenever you need it.

Purgatory.

That's the word that stuck to him when he was learning English at school, simply because it was an accurate definition of how he felt.

Adults used to say there is heaven and hell, and then this world, the world of humans, somewhere in between. They said he would go to heaven after he died and that bad people would go to hell.

They were all liars because hell already existed here on Earth. He had lived there ever since he was born.

The first memories of the cutting are shallow and pale, like they happened to some other boy. With every hit and cut and every cry, the sounds turned muddy until he was mute too, until all he could hear was mother's crying and Papa's roaring. The old man always got more mad when people cried and cowered. 

That's when he knew he would someday do something about bad people, that crying and cowering and begging wasn't going to help. It was the birth hour of hope and heaven. He dreamed of killing his father, killing his "friends", killing everyone who looked at him like he was a freak. 

He soon learned that this was not what people associated with heaven at all. He learned that there was a word for people like him, for phantoms who were morbidly interested in death and decay.

Ghoul.

A grave robber and a corpse feaster he was not, but neither was he going to pretend that some people didn't deserve to be gutted. If being normal meant he should just play along and pretend that there was justice in this world, then he was happy to be morbid. A little ghoul boy who grew up in hell, who dreamed of heaven, who slipped behind the thin veil between the worlds when he was four, who learned how to make the knives dance while everyone around him suffered.

He learned to cry and beg before he learned to speak, but when the words finally started to make sense to him, he had no use for them. No one wanted to talk to him, so he settled to observe. Life was a film reel running by, and words were useless when all he wanted to do was roar. There was a growing, gaping maw inside him, shrieking and spitting blood while he was without a voice.

It took a while to make Papa cry and beg. But he begged, eventually. In his last words, he tried to hide behind a woman’s skirt. 

"Don't do this to your mother," was a plea that didn't ignite mercy: it drove him off the ledge. Looking at the horrible excuse for a man squirming at his feet made him realize he should've released his mother from this demon years ago. He was too weak, and he vowed to himself, to the whole world, that he would never be weak again.

………………

Sometimes, a glimpse of true heaven can be seen on a clear summer's day when the sun shines, when bees are buzzing and a beautiful voice sings a love song on the radio. Beautiful, peaceful things only add to his suffering. They are simply evidence gathered – examples of everything he will never have. 

The air clots inside his mask with a brew of old sweat and acrid gunpowder. It's usually enriched by a hot desert wind or the stench of dust and emissions, a city's rotten core. It would feel odd to be met with a fresh breeze or the smell of rust and smoke than have them dampened by the baggy mask. He's certain that it would only be painful to feel the full brunt of the world on his naked face again. His enemies can't see him when he kills them, so they can't haunt him either.

He is the only ghoul here. He is the one who haunts.

He's learned to let love and peace go. He came here to reap; that's his job. Ghouls cannot love or be loved. They are supposed to get rid of the plague, do what normal people can't do, what good people deem hideous and wrong.

People have always been alien to him: they both know something he cannot seem to decode and are unaware of the constant presence of the Maw. He has to feed it in order to not be swallowed by it himself. It helps with the constant yelling for a while. 

His father was the first demon to be punished, but he has learned that all demons are liars when they beg. They don't know what real hell is like. That's why he didn't give mercy to his father, and that's why he doesn't give mercy to them, either. It's not hell, it's not heaven, so he must be in a limbo state in between. 

That's why he calls this place purgatory. 

………………

He sees a woman under the sun one day.

The sheer sight of her sitting there on her little blanket spread over the grass, dressed in a pure white dress is like a torturing dream from above. It stops him in his tracks like there is suddenly an invisible wall in front of him, forcing him to halt.

His heart is pounding, but that's not new. His heart is always tight and racing, and that's why it's better to have a heavy gun in his hands than hold onto nothing at all; it's better to do something than do nothing at all. The only thing that calms the endless roil inside him is work; when there's no work, it helps to go outdoors, somewhere between the shadows between thick trees.

Trees are better than people...

But they're not better than a woman like her.

He knows his mind plays tricks sometimes with females. That is why at first he thinks that the creature before him is not from this world either. How could someone like her even end up here? There are few ladies in the base, and none of them have picnics; none of them look like angels.

She looks up at the sky, at the single cloud drifting across the cerulean blue that hurts his eyes. Sun shines on her exposed throat, her stare is dreamy as she basks in the warmth and raises an apple to her lips. 

He stops breathing as she takes a bite, fearing it might stain the beautiful white dress from how juicy it is. The runaway apple juice drips down her chin, but she catches it with her finger, then sweeps the sweet taste of it back into her mouth. 

Her lips hug the finger gently as she savors the treat, and his breath returns to him, heavy and with a pang, like someone just punched him between the lungs.

She can't be human... 

He wonders if she's even real. 

He's hungry, but the need to devour this woman turns into a need to worship her before he can even decipher what is happening to him. He would grovel at her feet if that's what it took to get her to feed him some of that fruit. His mind goes numb from the need to march there and hug her. Just hold her, so close that he forgets what it is to breathe.

He knows she would only scream, and it's good he's been walking in the shade. It's good that she can't see him unless she turns her head. Because she must be an angel, and angels have no business with ghouls. 

He should go and leave her be... Mortals he can want, humans he can torture, but a celestial being he could never touch. The wind carries a whiff of apple juice to his nose; it overrides the stench of sweat and gun oil and smoke. 

And then the angel turns her head. 

It's Judgment Day, but she doesn't condemn him. She blinks a few times, lashes fluttering like he's another sun, the dreaded black sun, and she can't bear to look directly at him. But there's no disgust, no uneasiness, there's no fear. There's only shyness and the smallest smile. 

The pain inside his gut turns into a brutal stab, pure suffering. He hasn't hoped for anything for a long, long time. Now hope bleeds into his stomach with golden tingles, like those rays of sun that caress her skin.

He thought good things would feel… well, good, but to his horror, they feel painful too. She's painfully sweet. Even the demon inside him falls silent, the only demon he cannot destroy. It's finally quiet, as it should be. Everything in him bows to this greater power of Her. 

But she can't be real... His mind is sick and has finally conjured up the most beautiful thing he can never, ever have. He's been called a freak, he's been called a dumb ugly giant, he's been called so many things, but he's not stupid enough to think that the creature hugged by the golden aura of light is meant for him. 

So he squares his shoulders and pushes through the invisible wall, back behind the veil, back to where he belongs, and leaves the heavenly apparition in the sun.

………………

The next time he sees her is after a mission and inside the base. 

He brings mud and blood inside after a few rainy days spent in the mountains. He's so soaked that not even the 3-hour flight managed to dry all the dirt. She's waiting for him, or that's how it feels like when she gives him a small, relieved smile and starts to clean the mess he and every other operator leave behind.

His angel is not only a celestial visage but a cleaner.

She keeps the building that houses people who destroy life, clean. She scrubs the filth killers like him bring inside the cold, dead compound built on what used to be a forest full of birds, life, and wind through the trees. 

No one thanks this girl as she humbly dusts a table or mops the floor. No one understands that she's a saint for coming to the purgatory and making it a more decent place for the demons and ghouls to live. And she's relieved every time he comes back unharmed. She's happy to see he's alive. There's someone waiting for him. And not just someone, not just anyone, but an angel.

It's unbelievable how no one has claimed her yet. She has no one to keep her safe, and it makes his hands twitch. If he was her protector, she would never have to work again.

She's not like the rest of them: she doesn't turn her gaze away when he flicks a knife out. She likes to watch him make them dance. It's a ritual that makes him invincible on the battlefield. He used to do it every morning before school to stay safe – there were no angels back then to keep him alive.

He almost stops the first time he sees her watching how he goes through the rite. 

No, look away, little angel... You're not supposed to see this; this is a death dance, it's filthy, demonic magic.

But she's not afraid of his blades or the way he weaves his spell of protection. The girl follows his moves entranced. Her eyes shine, and he nearly drops the blade – he hasn't dropped a knife since he was ten – because there's hunger in her stare. Not as fathomless as his, but deep enough for him to recognize it. 

His angel is lonely and trapped too. 

He completes the dance, returns the knife to his pocket, and looks back, straight back.

She doesn't look away. She doesn't wince or lean back, no: she leans forward, and he can see it, the way her pulse flutters on her neck, the way her mouth opens even more, how a tiny pink tongue sweeps across her lips as she looks back into the jaws of damnation. It takes him a while to realize his angel must be wet, just from seeing how good he is with a knife. The notion doesn't only make his cock jolt; it throws him headfirst into the abyss. 

You'll never get rid of me now, the demon growls before he can choke him silent.

Her wet eyes, her wet, promising lips belong in a realm of madness. She's not filthy; his angel could never be filthy. But she's seducing him, which means she might seduce other men too. 

Has someone claimed her already…? 

What if she has a lover? Do they make her legs shake, do they make her mew?

Who does he have to kill?

………………

He breaks into her room that night. 

He only meant to stand watch and see if someone creeps to her in the cover of darkness. He thinks about different ways to kill her lover as he waits near her door. Should he just strangle them when they enter her room? Make her an offering, let her know she could have a far more powerful male if she wants?

No, he must use a knife... She will get wet if he uses a knife.

But no one appears: he is the only shadow in the dark hall, and after midnight, he decides to take a look at his innocent, sleeping angel. Just one look.

Her domain is full of softness, and he has to take a few deep breaths before he continues. Her world is so different from his that he nearly turns back and closes the door to paradise. But then her breathing calls to him, causing him to take a few steps. She sleeps with her window open, likes to listen to the sound of night birds before she falls asleep – just like he does…

The demon is awake in an instant and grabs him by the throat. 

No. 

Don’t look. If you look, she will steal your soul.

He freezes before he reaches her bed. His gaze sweeps her room instead, and the demon pants at the sight. Her dresses are laid out on a clothing rack: they salute him like a row of colorful flowers. Flowing and singing like a river, they hit him with a breeze made of life and all things good. 

She has a little armchair filled with cushions, and there's more softness and beauty everywhere he looks; he can see it even in the darkness of the night. Her delicate perfume that follows him as he follows her around the base lingers in the air and mixes with the distant birdsong and moonlight that shift the curtains in her room.

There's art on her walls, lively houseplants on the window sill, she has collected a cavalcade of cute little things on top of her drawer: nail polish and sea shells and beeswax candles and a piece of driftwood, a bottle of that perfume she uses, decorative lights above it all, placed around a small mirror. 

He wants all of that. 

He wants light and living things and greenery – he never had plants at home – he wants softness and cute little items, he wants to listen if the seashell still roars with the crashing waves were he to bring it to his ear. His mama always told him seashells remember the ocean because it used to be their home…

He wants her to light a honeyed candle and give him a bite of that apple, catch the juice as it runs down his scarred chin, or better yet, kiss it away before it falls. He wants to taste what's between her thighs. She must taste like honey and heaven.

One of the drawers is open, and from it, a torrent of cute little underthings is spilling out; they almost cascade on the floor. In different colors, too, and his hand reaches out and takes one before he can even think. He steals it like it's candy, then turns around with a stiff back and shoulders heavy from the sin he just committed.

He's about to go to the door, but her soft breathing calls him back. He tries to calm the demon - the girl can't steal anything: there's nothing left to steal. He has no soul, so he doesn't have to fear her either. 

Taking a few steps, he takes the peek he shouldn't take because it will only prolong his sentence in purgatory. Little does the demon know that he would suffer eternally for one little glimpse… 

She's not cocooned inside her blanket as he thought she would be. He thought he would find her coiled into a fetal position, curled into safety, but instead, she's sleeping on her back, arms spread next to her face, looking like she just fell from heaven and is feeling a little dizzy from the fall. She's calm and innocent as the moonlight brushes her cheek, her face free from all worry.

Why is she so cute, why is she so sweet? 

She has no right. She should be up in heaven.

He almost crawls on top of her right then and there, because blinding want is nothing compared to this. He wants to breathe her, breathe with her, hold her gently, and have her smile at him when she wakes up. He doesn't want to ruin her… He just wants a taste, see if an angel would like to have a demon worship her. If his worship would mean anything, if it had any power to persuade her to like him... 

He would never kneel before anyone, but he would kneel before her. In spirit, he is on his knees, and the only thing that makes him suffer is the fear that she might not want him, a ruined temple haunted by old, hateful spirits.

The madness was right. Apparently, there was a soul to steal, a tiny broken mosaic piece left, for the angel has it now. She owns what's left of him, the haunted temple is hers if she would ever want to come visit. He would restrain all those monsters so that she can walk freely and explore all the things buried under the rubble.

Her underwear burns his palm like a flower on fire. He only then realizes that there are no actual flowers in her room. He wonders if she would give him a kiss if he were to bring her one. Or two. Or an entire bouquet…

The demon inside cuts him with a searing blade – stupid idiot – she doesn't want to kiss your mauled face or love your ghouls. There's no treasure hidden inside that filthy rubble, there's only shit and blood and festering vomit. Better to just take her right now, see how tight she is, how wide her eyes go when a proper man comes to assert his will and authority. The demon tells him to at least ruin that cute thing in his hand and throw it on the table. Imagine her shocked little face when she wakes up…

Tears brim, and the maw of hell laughs with a roar of raging fire. He forces both down with a swallow and a wrench that shuts his heart.

There's no way she would ever let a man like him inside her. He's a sickness; no, he's an entire plague. He could try to make love to her, and she would only cry and bleed to death.

The smooth place between her brows gains a wrinkle as if she can hear his thoughts but doesn't agree with them. A little whimper escapes her nose, her head nods on the pillow; it looks like an attempt to hide while you're tied and cannot move. 

Pretty angel is having a nightmare, and it's no wonder. Of course she can sense she's being visited by a monster. 

He turns to leave, and notices another colorful thing on the floor: her underwear, and not clean. She's slipped out of it before bed: his angel is naked under that blanket. His angel sleeps naked…

He wonders if she has touched herself before sleep. Not with feverish, stern hands, like he does, but softly, under that blanket, with her features melting into pleasure as she comes with sighs and a series of desperate little whimpers. 

His blood turns to hellfire as he drops the underwear he's holding. It falls right next to the intoxicating thing he picks up instead. Taking a deep inhale, he can finally smell her. Not just her perfume, but her. She smells of an angel and a woman, raw, perfect woman, and he knows he's lost. This is worse than any dream or demon; this is worse than anything ever before. There's no going back now. 

Her scent calls to him, those hands frame her face in a gesture of surrender. She smiled at him on that day under the sun, and she smiled at him today.

What if he's spent enough time in hell? What if it's possible to have a taste of heaven?

He can't help but wonder if his angel wants this too... 

“Engel,” he whispers into the night.

It takes only a second before she whimpers again. It's an answer, it's a yes, and his heart is full of tiny needles; they pinch him with terrible love and hope. The wrinkle has smoothed out, and his angel is smiling very, very softly. 

She's calling for him. How could he refuse?

His angel is full of light as he makes his decision. He whispers his apology, only in his mind and only in German, trusting that angels must know every language in the world. He asks for her forgiveness for all the things he's about to do to her. Then he promises he will come for her, that she doesn't need to worry: she has a guardian now and always will. She will be forever safe with him by her side. He will drive even her nightmares away.