harlotistic-side

[harlotistic-side]

HAPPY PRIDE TO YOU TOO 😈 writing munches like no other truly...omg. just woke up and now i'm horned up too.

Underneath her pants…? Xavier’s wearing Spider-Man panties....Xavier’s brows raise as she sees your reaction to her panties, “and what’s so funny?”

THE PANTIES HAS ME CRYING i fear bunny girlfriend xavier and i are one and the same in the sense that we will be wearing whatever is available.

With a saddened heart and droopy ears, your girlfriend follows you.

MY BABY THIS GAVE ME CUTENESS AGGRESSION HELLO???? THE EARSSSS????? i want to tug them so badly like ughhhhhh she'd be so cute in bed like idc if she's supposed to be more dominant like that face makes me want to squish it!!! xavier being bullied feels too right.

eating her and i hc she tastes like mochi and marshmallows 😋😋😋 i will be rereading this again and doing that thing where you chew air and imagine the food you want but the food is this fic. you get ten xavier bunny gfs 🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰

♡ Sweet talker ♡

⭑.ᐟ Bunny!Fem Xavier x fem!reader ⭑.ᐟ MDNI!! (ageless/blank blogs will be blocked :3), slight dub-con, oral (f!receiving), Xavier has a bush <3, tbh this is just Xavier being a horny lil bunny. ⭑.ᐟ wc: 2k ⭑.ᐟ an: originally written for fem!lads week but pride month is the best time to spread my bunny gf agenda <3 Obligatory Haruka/Michiru, space lesbians that raised me. ⭑.ᐟ reblogs and comments are appreciated!! It helps me know what people would like to read :3

“This dress looks expensive,” she says, her hand reaching out to grab the back of the skirt, lifting it to see your cute lacy panties. A startled gasp leaves you as you flatten your skirt back down, your skin burning at Xavier’s sudden attack.

“Xav!” You turn around, shoving her arm. Xavier holds her hands up in mock surrender, “Just wanted to see if you were wearing those panties with the bunnies again.” Long silvery blonde strands mussed to perfection—Xavier never has to do her hair, even after sleeping for hours, she looks good with bed head.

Long white bunny ears twitch, the soft pink of the underside exposed, “what a shame you aren’t. I thought you were my number one fan.” Her arm wraps around your shoulder, pulling you into her side. Her nose presses against the side of your head, taking in your scent. Strawberries and the spring breeze.

You only scoff and roll your eyes, “I’m a Lumiere fangirl only.” Xavier’s arm tightens around your shoulder. “Is that so? What does she have that I don’t?”

The sun is beaming down on the two of you, practically cooking you alive, but Xavier is unbothered. Always in her usual oversized hoodie. You hate it when she wears her hoodies. How can you see that cute round tail of hers when it’s hidden beneath fabric?

“Well, she’s not a pervert,” you tilt your head back to look up at Xavier. “She’d never lift my skirt in public like this.” Now it’s Xavier’s turn to roll her eyes. “That’s because she has to worry about her reputation.”

“And you don’t?”

Xavier’s pushing your head towards hers, lips hovering over hers. “Never.”

Xavier’s lips connect with yours. Her hand resting on the back of your head to prevent you from pulling back, her other hand fisting at bunched up fabric of your dress.

Your sweet bunny girlfriend has been very bold lately. Usually the sweet kisses and flirtation is saved for behind closed doors but not now, Xavier has to be touching you. Has to be scenting you. Has to make sure everyone knows you belong to her.

Her tongue delves into your mouth, a lingering sweetness from the cotton candy that was shared earlier. Your hand clutches at her hoodie, a moan bubbling up your throat. Defenses slowly melting away the longer that Xavier’s tongue is down your throat, melting into her embrace.

It’s not until you feel Xavier cup a breast in her hand that you pull away with a gasp.

“We’re in public, Xav," Hitting her chest gently, you attempt to put space between you and your girlfriend. Her floppy ears twitch in protest, “So what? There’s no one around.”

“Still. It’s indecent.”

“But baby…” she whines, following you. Her arms quickly snatch you up, tightening around you—the bunny has become the predator. “I just wanna,” her lips trail over your neck, warm breath hitting your already dampened skin.

Pink bunny tongue slips from between her lips, lapping up a bead of sweat. A shudder goes down your spine, don’t fall for it. Your girlfriend is always horny.

“Taste you. Squeeze you."

Her front pressing into your hip. “Fuck you,” her voice has grown raspier as her fingers dig into your side. Shamelessly, she humps your hip, the fabric of your skirt wrinkling underneath the movements.

“Xavier!”

“Baby? Please, need you. Need you so bad,” Xavier’s words are breathy, her round cheeks flushed a gorgeous shade of pink. Her panties are already drenched, have been for the past hour.

Xavier doesn’t mean to act on her primal desires, no. She’s usually a good bunny but today, she just can’t help herself. Not when her girlfriend is so pretty. It didn’t matter what you wore, Xavier always wanted you.

An insatiable appetite for food and the love of her life. How could she control herself? Panicked eyes glance around the area, afraid of onlookers seeing what two highly regarded hunters were doing.

“Please. Angel face, please,” she huffs. Her nose buried in the curve of your neck, her movements only becoming more frantic. Those fluffy white ears you’ve grown to love are drooping, wilting like flowers under the extreme lust that burns Xavier’s blood.

Desperate. Your bunny girlfriend is so desperate. Biting your lower lip, you think about her request. What if you guys get caught? That’ll be so embarrassing.

Xavier’s panting on your neck, nails digging into your side. She won’t let go.

“Just this once, okay?”

Xavier’s ears perk up at your words. Her lips immediately connected with yours, “thank you, angel face.” Her tongue delves into your mouth, trying to silence any potential rules that may escape it.

The bunny is practically dragging you towards the alleyway, a shortcut towards your apartment complex. “Want you. You smell so yummy,” Xavier vomits out. Her hands are touching every part of your body that they can. Groping your tits, the pudge on your tummy, your ass, everything.

As long as Xavier can touch you, she’s a happy woman.

Each touch only makes you squirm underneath her, your skin not only burning from the spring heat. “Just don’t eat me, cannibalism is frowned upon in our society.”

Dark blue eyes meet yours, her nose scrunching up before she scoffs. “Your jokes are lame.”

Gee, way to make your girlfriend feel special.

You gently shove her shoulder. “Whatever. You’re just too proud to laugh at a corny joke.”

“But not too proud to beg, baby.” A hint of a smile graces Xavier’s lips, a slight sheen on her lips—she’s definitely been using your lipgloss!

Pressing Xavier against the brick wall, your fingers make quick work of her button and zipper, “ever the romantic, darling.” You push her jeans down enough to reveal her muscular thighs.

Underneath her pants…? Xavier’s wearing Spider-Man panties. You blink a few times, trying to bite back your giggles. Xavier’s brows raise as she sees your reaction to her panties, “and what’s so funny?”

You shrug. “Oh, nothing.”

Kneeling in front of your girlfriend, you press a kiss on her mound. “Just wasn’t expecting a horny little bun to be wearing Spider-Man themed panties.” Xavier’s hips buck towards your face as you kiss her mound, and she clears her throat, clearly trying to look unfazed.

Glancing up at her, you smile. Silly bunny.

Kisses are left on her thighs, trailing up to her inner thighs. The scent of her sweet nectar mixed with the musk fills your nose the closer you get to her cunt. Your girlfriend trembles underneath you, hands clenching the ends of her sleeves.

You lick a stripe over her clothed slit, getting a hint of saltiness from the wet patch that’s growing in the middle of her panties. Xavier’s breathing becomes heavier, “p-please don’t tease me too much, angel face,” she begs.

“I won’t.”

Xavier knows you’re lying. She can see the way your brow twitched after you said that. Your lips latch onto her clit, sucking on it through the flimsy fabric. Her hips jolt forward, a whimper falls from her lips. She’s fragile!

You suckle at her clit, so close, yet so far. Her little tail wiggles behind her. Saliva dampened the fabric of her panties more, mixing with her juices. Bringing your hand up to rest on her mound, your thumb slowly rubbing circles over her clit. Xavier groans, head falling back on the wall.

“Please. Need to cum already, angel.” Xavier begs. Not too proud to beg, indeed.

“Darling, the foreplay it’s important.”

“Skip it! You already stretch me out enough,” she huffs.

A snort leaves you. “You must’ve been a princess in your past life. You’re always ordering me around,” you quip. Index finger hooking underneath the waistband of her panties, tugging them down.

Xavier’s sweet scent wafts towards you, your mouth waters, conditioned to be Xavier’s bitch. “It’s because I know what I want.” She says, hand resting on the crown of your head.

Heavenly. Xavier’s pussy can only be described as heavenly. Silvery blonde strands drenched with sticky arousal. Teasingly, your middle finger trails between the wet slit. Xavier’s hips buck at the touch, she’s utterly obsessed with you.

Gently separating her puffy lips, your tongue darts out to lick a stripe up her dripping cunt. Salty with a hint of sweetness, the flat of your tongue licking up her juices, an appreciative moan leaving you.

Delicious as always.

Unfortunately, your girlfriend doesn’t get the concept of being quiet. Not with your warm tongue flicking all over her aching cunt, mouth suctioning around her engorged clit. Her hips buck towards your face, seeking out more friction.

“Haah, angel face,” Xavier pants out, her head falling back on the wall. Her fingers dig into the back of your head, trying to guide your tongue. Obscene slurping fills the space between you, never mind that you guys are in public—who cares when you have a needy little bunny to take care of?

Nose buried in her hairy mound as you suckle at her clit, blown out gaze peering up at Xavier. Her cheeks are flushed, sweat beading on her forehead, and her fringe is sticking to her damp skin.

Your hand creeps under her hoodie, traveling over her soft tummy, up to her breasts. Fingers gently squeezing the soft flesh, drawing out a whiny moan from her.

Xavier’s floppy ears are drooping, and her thighs are clenching around your head. She’s close… so why not take it up a notch? Pulling back, a mixture of saliva and Xavier’s juices dripping down your chin, falling onto the sliver of skin on your chest.

Xavier gasps as you pull away, trying to push you back onto her clit.

“Relax, bunny.” You tell her, licking the mess off your lips. Your middle finger slides down the wet slit, in search of her entrance. Once the pad of your finger catches on the small hole, you slowly push and stretch it out.

Xavier’s back arches off the wall, a low mewl escapes her mouth. The stretch is deliberately slow until her pussy swallows the length of your middle finger, then you start to pump in and out, hearing the familiar squelch.

“Do you like that, bun bun?”

She nods, her usual Celestine blue eyes as dark as sapphires.

“Words,” you demand. The hand that’s still on her breast, squeezes. Closed mouths don’t get fed, you always tell her.

“Y-yes. I like it…” she murmurs. Suddenly shy? This just isn’t like Xavier. After all, she was the one who begged you to fuck her in this alleyway.

A short laugh leaves you. Placing a kiss on her pelvic bone before you return to sucking on her clit. The dual sensation of your finger thrusting in and out of her cunt while you suck on her clit has Xavier writhing underneath you.

Without warning, you insert your ring finger into her entrance, fingers pumping in and out, her juices dripping down them. Making sure to hit as deep as you can, hitting the right spots that make her tail twitch.

“Ngh.. angel… too much,” she pants out. But her hand is keeping you in place, you only moan in response. Xavier’s coarse pubes tickle your nose as your tongue slurps at her greedy nub.

And all it takes is hitting the right spongy spot to cause your girlfriend to convulse in pleasure, thighs trying to close around your head as she whines in ecstasy.

You eagerly drink up any juices that spill out of her, your fingers still working her through her intense orgasm.

Xavier’s breathing is heavy as she rests against the wall. Your eyes meet her tired ones. Slowly, you remove your fingers from her cunt, bringing them up to your mouth. Lips stretched around your fingers as you clean off the delicious reward.

“Aw, look at you…” you croon as you lick up the mess between Xavier’s thighs—can’t have your bunny walking around all dirty, can you?

Redressing your tuckered-out bunny, then fixing her hair. Can’t have people know what you guys were up to. Xavier leans against you, nuzzling into your neck. Her fluffy ears tickle your cheek.

“I think we should head home so I can repay my lovely girlfriend.”

Oh, she’s not tired? Laughter escapes from your lips as you pet her ear, “Nope. Time to run the errands we set out to do.” Untangling yourself from her embrace, you head towards the exit of the alleyway.

“But angel!”

“No buts, Xavier. Let’s get going.”

With a saddened heart and droopy ears, your girlfriend follows you.

[harlotistic-side]

OMG PUPPY PLAY QUEEN KORY BACK AT IT AGAIN!!! muzzled up pussy whipped caleb is someone i hold very dearly and ughh the way you wrote this is so absolutely tasty. bush and big clit girlies mentioned too!!!!! i love that.

they're so freaky and pathetic in the best ways possible 🙂‍↕️ i reread this 3 times as i was getting ready for work and kept giggling bruh SO CUTE reader attempting to be mean but just giving into what he wants is soooo me omg like i could never say no to those baby purples.

"..Caleb could fall asleep sucking on your clit—his own eco friendly pacifier."

my fave line that i think should be printed in history books. ECO FRIENDLY PACIFIER MADE ME LAUGH FR. this and the pubic hair part augghhhhh kory you write smut so good. this is gold star on muzzle approved 🙏 everytime you post i rejoice and do a dance in my room.

♡ Playing the angel ♡

CW: MDNI!! (ageless/blank blogs will be blocked :3), technically gn but reader has a pussy, pet play, Caleb is muzzled, dry humping, a lil bit of oral (f!receiving), degradation (just a tad), uhh Caleb gets in trouble for using reader’s panties too much. usage of mistress at the end. WC: 1.5k

“Pips, I’m sorry…”

Caleb’s voice is low and whiny. Sweet puppy dog eyes filled with unshed tears, a muzzle wrapped tightly around his jaw. Caleb’s fingers are digging into the meat of your thighs, the cage pressing against your dripping cunt.

Resting against the headboard, your panties and shorts long discarded. Legs spread wide with a vibrator glued to your engorged clit—lowest setting, of course. You were planning to draw this out. 

“Your apologies don’t cut it this time, dog. You’ve been a naughty boy,” Your tone is saccharine as you lean towards the pathetic mess before you, your hand reaching for the muzzle to force his gaze to meet yours.

Caleb’s dick throbs in need as he stares helplessly at you. Musk, with a hint of familiar sweetness, wafts from your legs. Caleb's mouth starts to water at the smell, at the chance to taste you.

“I told you not to use my panties to jerk off. I’m tired of washing them or buying new ones because your cumstains won’t come out.”

Caleb whimpers. If your boyfriend had ears, they would be flat on his head, tail tucked between his thighs, as he gave you that sad puppy dog eye expression that make you sick! Caleb knows he’s been bad, he’s just waiting on his pipsqueak to show him some mercy. “This is cruel,” Caleb pants. “How can you do this to me, pips? I bought you snacks, I let you watch horror movies when you weren’t allowed to.” The muzzles hits the vibrator as Caleb’s tries to bury his face against his favourite spot.

Long pink tongue lapping at the air, getting a wisp of your arousal. He groans, eyes glossy with lust and frustration. “Please, I wanna be a good boy…” 

As if a good boy ruts against the mattress like a teenaged boy going through puberty. There’s a big wet spot on the front of his boxers. Taking a hearty sniff of your drenched cunt, Caleb lets out a sound akin to a growl.

“I need your pussy, pips.” Caleb pleads. His fingers dig into your thighs. “That vibrator can’t satisfy you. It’s not big enough for you,” Caleb snaps at the air, an aggressive dog that’s ready to lunge.

“My pips only like taking big dicks, isn’t that right?” Caleb says as he takes another heavy whiff of that heavenly cunt that lies below him. Pubic hair curled slightly from your arousal, lips glistening with nectar that belongs in his mouth—he needs to drink all of it down—but it’s being wasted! All because you won’t let him eat you out!

Caleb needs to eat you out, at least once a week. All he cares about is your pleasure, the way your body squirms underneath him. He likes making out with your pretty clit, and enjoys the feeling of it throbbing in tandem with your heartbeat whenever he sucks on it. Gets the most melodic moans from you when he does.

Sloppy and messy. That’s how Xia Caleb likes it. His saliva all over your pussy lips, suckling and slurping as if his life depended on it. Caleb could fall asleep sucking on your clit—his own eco friendly pacifier. 

“Sooo greedy. I’ve spoiled you, sweetheart.” Caleb’s tone is playful but the look in his eyes is not. Reminiscent to the first time you saw Colonel Xia. Not Caleb. Not that sweet boy who bandaged you up when you scraped your knee. No, Colonel Xia saw through you. Knew how to pull the ropes behind the scenes to get what he wanted.

Caleb is crawling on top of you. His warm breath washes over your face, arms caging you against the bed. “C’mon… take this muzzle off, baby,” He begs, attempting to nuzzle your cheek with the muzzle.

“Why do you want to deny your pleasure?” Caleb asks, rolling his erection against your soaked lips. The fabric of his boxers is soaking up your stickiness, heat seeping from between the cotton fibers, causing Caleb to groan. 

“Because denying my pleasure means you don’t get to enjoy yours,” you say, a breathy sigh escapes your lips as Caleb ruts against you.

Caleb’s fringe is drenched with sweat, sticking to his forehead. Each slow grind of his bulge catching deliciously on your clit, your hips bucking towards him. 

“Pips, you really want me to suffer…” Caleb whines. His head rests on the soft swells of your breasts, fingers digging into your sides. “Need you. Wanna taste you.” This is torture. Caleb belongs between your thighs, drinking you up like a man who’s on the verge of dying from dehydration.

Your fingers threads in his sweaty brown strands, “poor puppy…” Purple eyes meet yours, the coo in your tone catching his attention. Are you going to give in? 

Please pipsqueak! Can’t you feel the way his dick throbs and how much he needs to taste your sweet nectar?

“I’m just being soooo mean, right?” 

Caleb stares, is this a trick question? It has to be. Dark lashes wet with tears as he shakes his head no. Caleb looks pitiful but he has to learn. 

“So that means I can be meaner?”

Caleb shakes his head again, trying to bury his face into your chest. “Please… I’m sorry. I won’t use your panties to jerk off anymore.” 

Even if the smell is too intoxicating to resist. Caleb will try. Try to get over his panty sniffing addiction.

“Liar.” You scoff, rolling him over onto his back. Thighs straddling him. “You said that last time.” You remind him. Pushing down his boxers to free his weeping dick, the flared tip flushed pink, the veins pulsating with every touch.

Caleb’s length slips through your slit, glistening with your slick. A bead of precum oozes from Caleb’s tip, “the last time before that. And the last time before that,” recalling all the previous times Caleb used the puppy eyes and said his apologies. 

“I think you’re always going to be a lying little dog.” 

At this point, your words are going in one ear and out the other. Caleb isn’t focused on anything but your slick cunt rubbing all up on him. Each move makes his balls ache, the muzzle is too tight around his jaw, and he’s desperate. 

“Keep calling me names, sweetheart. You know it only makes me harder for you,” Caleb says, a short laugh leaving him. His large hands holding your hips, guiding your motions over his dick. 

His words earn him a scoff and an eye roll from you. “You’re a degenerate.” 

“I haven’t heard any complaints before.” The corner of his lip upturned into a smile, revealing just a hint of his perfect teeth. “Besides, you’re the one who muzzled me. I think you’re just as bad as me.”

“Never. I’m an angel.”

Caleb laughs, his fingers pressing into your hips, leaving crescent-shaped imprints in your flesh. “I’ve never met an angel eager to rub their wet pussy over a dick before. Fallen angel, perhaps?”

“That’s your title, Caleb. I’m the angel that has to train the doggy to be good.” Gyrating your hips faster, the squelch of your juices and combined breathy moans fill the bedroom. 

A familiar white heat builds in the middle of your tummy, each time Caleb’s tip bumps against your clit, it sends shivers down your spine. Your hands rest on Caleb’s chest, his hot skin sticking to your palms. Caleb’s heart is rapidly beating against his ribcage, breaths are becoming ragged.

“G’na cum…” Caleb pants. His head fell back on the pillow. “Can I? Haah… please,” his stomach clenches as his balls draw up. Even if you said ‘no, ’ it wouldn’t stop him from making a mess.

“Okay, puppy. Go ahead,” you relent. You’re not that heartless! With your hips picking up pace again, Caleb can’t hold back. He never can. Not when it comes to you. 

A deep guttural groan falls from Caleb’s mouth as hot white ropes of cum spray over his abdomen, yet your hip movements don’t stop, working him through his orgasm. 

A mess. He always is. Caleb’s heaving, his body drenched in sweat. “Good boy, who’s pipsqueak’s good boy? You are!” You lean down to kiss the muzzle. Caleb’s eyes are unfocused, he doesn’t even realize that you’re teasing him right now.

Caleb whimpers as you continue to grind over his sensitive dick, aftershocks going through his body. His cheeks have the prettiest tint to them, his lips parted, and the sweat on his body… Caleb looks gorgeous like this. 

Unclipping the muzzle, you throw it aside. Thumbs rubbing the indents left on Caleb’s cheeks. A good boy indeed. Did Caleb learn his lesson? No, you don’t believe so.

But now that he’s gotten a chance to cum, it’s only fair that you get yours. And what’s the best way to get your rocks off if it isn’t by using your pup’s tongue?

“Tired?”

“Y-yeah.”

“Too tired to clean—“

A startled gasp leaves you as Caleb rolls you onto your back, Caleb didn’t need you to finish the rest of your question to know what you were offering. Transfixed by his desire, Caleb nestled between your thighs, tongue already lapping at your puffy lips. 

Caleb would make you cum over and over again as punishment for making him wear that stupid muzzle. A small price to pay for being his ‘cruel’ mistress. 

[harlotistic-side]

You didn’t mean to hit him. You really didn’t.

You were just trying to push him back playfully, hands on his chest as he teased you relentlessly, grinning like a devil. But he leaned forward at the exact wrong moment, and your palm connected—not with his shoulder, but squarely with his face.

There was a sickening little “thump.”

Then silence.

“Oh my god—Xavier!” you gasped, rushing to him as he stumbled back, hand instinctively flying to his nose. “I didn’t mean—Are you okay? I’m so sorry—Xavier, shit, you’re bleeding—”

Panic flared in your chest as you reached for him, trying to tip his head back, your hands fluttering uselessly. “I didn’t think—I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I swear I wasn’t trying to—”

But then he looked up at you.

And smiled.

That lopsided, heat-slicked grin that melted your words right off your tongue. His nose was bleeding, face flushed, but his eyes—half-lidded, dazed, hungry—locked on yours like you were the most intoxicating thing he’d ever seen.

“Oh...wow..” he murmured, almost in awe. “that was…”

He licked a drop of blood from his upper lip, and his smile deepened, that dazed, turned-on look spreading across his face. “That was really hot...”

Your jaw dropped, he can not be for real right now...right??Maybe you accidently gave him concussion too, he is probably deluded from pain an—

He tilted his head slightly, his hair sticking to his damp forehead, and that pleased, breathless grin widened. “You get so worked up when you’re worried,” he murmured, leaning forward, and you couldn’t tell if the tremble in your hands was from guilt or the way he was suddenly looking at you like that.

“…You gonna kiss it better?”

Saw this piece of a masterpiece by juyo (in tumblr @stardustdusting) and had to get out of bed at 5 am to write about this. (JUST LOOK AT HIM GAWWD)

[harlotistic-side]

i loveeee these!!! such cute dynamics :)) the zayne one ughhhh my babiesss putting them in my pocket ty for this.

My ocs for each individual lis [happy]!!

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚　˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚　˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚　˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

Manobawa [online freak] × Xavier [irl freak]

~°~

The day hasn't even started (it's 7AM), the sun has not shone (he's using blackout curtains) and there's no rapid pitter-patter of his starlight's footsteps (she's already late to work, so she left without informing him).

Suddenly, like an uncouth intruder, his phone shone like it came from the All-mighty Himself.

"Ugh.. " he groans, patting the bed for his phone.

What greets him is not his alarms, not a good morning text either, but a—

Starlight ♡ : I'm gonna touch you lil' bro 🙏..

Starlight ♡ : [freaky sonic GIF]

Me : what 💔

Sigh... woe is he. Not only does he not have the privilege to wake up early to look at his beloved longer, his beloved is also a modernized pervert.

He supposed that's a nice thing. He can return the favor easily that way..

—-

Fighting wanderers under direct sunlight does break his sweat, unfortunately. He feels like a shrimp about to be cooked in a sea food boil or steamed for a spring roll..

His phone buzzed. Maybe it's his starlight asking to eat lunch together? It is 13.45, after all.

Starlight ♡ : [image]

Starlight ♡ : WHOA!! Careful white chocolate... wouldn't want you to melt..

...ah, it's her usual shenanigans again.

"Xavi-baby!!"

A sweet voice calls for him. A voice that sent him reeling to meet the source and spinning his head in a whiplash.

"I've ordered us some food. Come!"

At least she remembered it's lunchtime.

—-

The room is dark. The only source of light coming from the screen displaying the blaring cause for the muttering and grumbling falling from his mouth.

"Dude, it's just one round. " "..." "You sound like you got a stick up your ass. " "I'll make you have a stick up your ass. " "...what. "

—-

The sun was shining, the birds are chirping gleefully, the breeze cools down the sweat and other kinds of bodily fluids covering their figure right now.

"Ah.. it's already morning. "

Gently, he set down his violently trembling starlight, watching as she kept babbling on for "mercy" and "please forgive me" when there's nothing in her (other than the buckets of cum now pooling underneath her, of course).

He pressed a chaste kiss on her forehead, hugging her body close to him.

"One more time, okay, honey?" "N-Nooo—!!"

Melati [hyperfixator of history of medical malpractice] × Zayne [#1 hater of history of medical malpractice]

~°~

The sun, while somewhat bright, brings warmth into the otherwise cold sterile office. The scent of coffee wafts in the air, while the soft gulps from a certain someone drinking her canned avocado latte resounds from the other side of the room, the click-clacks of keyboard and the soft swish-swish from papers being flipped and written accompanying their peaceful time together, in each other's presence.

Then suddenly, unprompted—

"I wonder how those people who has to be amputated prior to anesthesia's invention felt. "

Zayne felt his soul left his body.

"I mean, most of them died. Like those under that one surgeon. Robert Liston, was it?"

No, no he doesn't want to hear that horrific figure from that awful time period be uttered by a pair of lips as precious as yours.

"Not only did he amputate a patient under 2½ minutes—I think?—he somehow managed to amputate his assistant's fingers—"

Oh that poor, poor soul. He prays for no human being ever to relive a time period where pus and blood are the same substance; where the barn might as well be as clean as the medical bay; where no medical practitioner knows how to clean themselves properly; where medicine is coated with gold simply because it looks pretty; where obtaining hospital gangrene is as easy as dying from influenza at that time.

"—he also slashed through a surgical spectator.. right? And then that spectator died from shock–"

"Please fetch me a vanilla pudding, dear. " "Ok!"

The moment his beloved left the room, he breathes a sigh of relief whilst his body trembles and shivers from fear and repulsion.

...perhaps it is better to let you watch true crime documentaries instead.

Dahlia [no words, head full] × Rafayel [much words, much thoughts]

~°~

For weeks (really it felt like just a few hours), he had locked himself up in his paint room. He has refused galas, interviews (as always), most of his mealtimes, of course he never said no to water, but he ignored the world as if it's only him and that painting that co-existed within the universe.

"What do you think?" He asked his most reliable art critic (read : future wife) only to have her staring at the canvas with that awful blank expression that he could never read. She stares, she stares, she stares, and she sta—

"Give me a moment. "

Way before he could utter anything, she already ushers him out, shooing him like one would an intruding chicken.

She sat down, staring, lock-jaw, muscles chained in place. She picked up her trusty mini notebook and her pen, scribbling down anything that she can observe—some of the paintbrush hair stuck on the paint, the way a few strands of his hair stuck on the nail, a slightly discoloured part, what she thinks of the painting, what she interprets from it, what she can feel from the color scheme—

This lasts for 5 hours.

Annoyed and impatient, Rafayel shouts from outside; "Are you done yet?!" "IT'S FUCKING UGLY!" (it's a lie, of course. She's just mad he disrupted her 35 paragraph line of thought)

Vrahatnala ["I know a place"] × Sylus [*already pulled out his black card*]

~°~

The woods separating the N109 Zone and the flourishing city of Linkon is dark. A bit dry, damp in some spots, filled with bioluminescence that doesn't look natural and looks like it came out of a chemical factory.

It's 3AM, he has much work to do and no sleep to catch on, but his heart— his lofty, magnificent, beloved, dearest heart, shook him and said "I know a place. "

Assuming said "place" is a small diner crushed by the towering skyscrapers and the brutalistic buildings, he prepared his black card.

However, wandering through these bushes and moss.. he began to question where exactly he's being lead.

"Sweetie," "Hm?" "You said you know a place. " "Yeah, we're close. " "..we're in the woods. " "Come on, don't you want to look at the unfinished railtracks and the abandoned train station and trains during Linkon's colonization?" "...????"

Ardhani [ill (derogatory)] × Caleb [ill (affectionately)]

~°~

From the outside, the Deepspace Hunter looks.. normal. Cheerful and sparkly-eyed, even. With a pair of pouty lips that makes everyone soft and a personality that brightens up the room. Completely feminine; pastel ruffles and white frills decorating her whole body, a soft pink lipstick on her lips always and a hue of pinks and oranges patted on her eyelids.

Her childhood friend, however, is different. Charming, sure— kind, intelligent, playful, helpful—everything a girl could ever want wrapped in a pilot's uniform.

But there's this.. hint of malice in his eyes. A manic obsession that reappears when his pipsqueak leaves his side for just a moment, a sharp deadly glare sent everyone's way when she's not looking.

But who they are outside, doesn't reflect who they are indoors.

Lines and lines of a certain pilot's voicemails, voice calls, recorded and rolled in other stashes of voice-line tapes, ready to be played by the CD player next to it.

Scraps of gum, bitten pencils, a straw, a box of chocolate milk, a ripped off piece of paper, a heap of dirty clothes, a few strands of hair sewn into a doll, in a shrine, smelling like oranges and sunshine in the dark room that came out straight from an occult movie.

The colonel's euphoric place, however, is lined with soft satins. Cottons, frills, petticoats, small strands of thread taken from who-knows which clothes. Pinks and soft sunset hues decorated the room, sweet pictures where they are unaware, asleep, doing their job, eating like a hamster, small drawings she made when she was young, a friendship bracelet, the first ever shoe she wore, the earrings that she thought she was lost, locked up in soft wools and ribbons. Panties of all shapes and kinds carefully put together.

Truly, a coquette dream.

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚　˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚　˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚　˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

An idea i yapped to @harlotistic a few days ago improvised teehee

[harlotistic-side]

oh my god oedipus is coming to get you for this one. STEALING HIS WORK IS DIABOLICAL ALREADY BUT EATING IT DOWN?? yum. this was good breastmilk soup. omg not even a mother but i'm pinning this up on my fridge with cute magnets.

literally loveddd the subtle way reader was put off by the mama thing, how leon was practically a mess, you knowwww im not a fan of pregnancy stuff but this one hits so good. NATURE'S PILLOWS IS CRAZY WORK. also the whole scene where he almost forgot to make her cum cos he's high on milk 🫠

but the brainrot and sherry teaching him the meow cover is horrible. I HATE THAT COVER SO BAD. but i'll forgive it because it's leon i guess 💣

since musey stole my booms (how could you muse 😞) i shall give you 10 renditions of what was i made for meow cover by nine inch nails signed and sealed ♡♡♡

♡ Morning moon, touch me ♡

pairing: husband!Leon x fem!reader (just b/c I used a lot of 'fem' centered nicknames).

CW: MDNI!! (ageless/blank blogs will be blocked :3), implied age gap (but reader is in their 20s), pregnancy (and mentions of the body changing), oral (f!receiving), mommy kink, mommy issues (Leon), breastfeeding, fingering (f!receiving), Leon is just obsessed with his sweetheart <3

Words: 2k

A/N: Written for Mother's Day. If you see any typos, pls let me know!! Mommy issues and Leon go together like Leon and whiskey do. Feedback/reblogs are appreciated!! <3 Or drop me random thirsts/asks about resident evil characters :3

Mother’s Day. The loneliest day of Leon’s life. Macaroni art in the shape of a heart with his mother’s name in the middle, a pipe cleaner flower bouquet, Leon’s small hand dipped in paint, stamped on construction paper, and each finger has a word that describes his mama. Crafts left on mama’s grave.

Jealousy is a difficult emotion to deal with as a child. Why did that classmate have a mama? They’re so mean to their mama! If Leon’s mama were still around, he’d give her hugs and kisses every day! Nothing can replace the comforting embrace of mama, the way she’d hold him so tight while kissing the top of his head over and over. The scent of Evyan’s White Shoulders filling his nose as he rested his head on mama’s breasts.

Mrs. Kennedy spoiled her baby boy. A miracle child after so many attempts. Saying no to Leon was so far down on her list. Because mama wouldn’t say no, Leon nursed longer than recommended. Every time mama tried to wean Leon off her breast milk, he’d become a little terror. Nonstop crying, tugging her hair, or throwing his toys around.

All because Mama couldn’t say no. Leon’s happiness was her number one priority. Those round cherubic cheeks and his gummy smile made her day.

Maybe that’s where Leon’s preference for a good set of tits stems from. The soft mounds are just perfect for suckling or laying his head against—nature’s pillows—duh. 

And maybe that’s why, ever since you got pregnant, Leon has been stuck to you like glue.

Leon never understood ‘men’ who cheated on their pregnant partner, especially when the pregnancy was agreed upon by both parties. 

The transformation that a person goes through is not for the weak of heart. Childbearing is a real risk. How could a man cheat on their partner just because their partner is putting on weight due to pregnancy? The stretch marks, the round tummy, the bigger breasts… Leon loves it. 

Strong and rough hands rub the curve of your belly as you complain about lower back pain. Leon’s heard that holding up the baby bump can alleviate some stress on the person’s body. Pretty stretch marks, evidence of his baby growing inside of you. His baby will have a chance at a real family. One that would make mama proud.

A fort of pillows behind your back to alleviate the uncomfortable pressure. You’re engrossed in a random book as your husband rests his head on your belly, rubbing the curve in comforting motions. 

Leon presses a soft kiss to your belly. The only word that could describe your husband? Devoted. Ever since you got pregnant, Leon’s been reading those first time parents books, getting up at random hours in the morning to get whatever you’re craving, and simply pampering you. 

Your free hand is in Leon’s hair, running your fingers through the dark strands—you see a few grays at the roots—but you don’t tell Leon. Leon lets out a hum of approval, nuzzling his nose against your tummy.

The sweetest scent wafting from your body.

Leon shifts on the bed, the mattress squeaking underneath him. Kneeling in front of you, Leon trails kisses down your belly to your mound, earning a short laugh from you.

“C’mon…” you murmur as Leon pushes up your muumuu, revealing more of your body to his gaze. “You just can’t keep your hands off me.” Your eyes peer over the edge of your book.

“How can I? You’re just glowing and begging for my attention, sweetheart.” 

You resist rolling your eyes, “I’m begging for attention?”

“Yeah. By sitting here and looking like a snack.”

Now you just have to put your book down at that comment. You bite your lower lip, trying to keep from laughing at the use of slang. At least it wasn’t as bad as Leon singing the cat version of What was I made for? 

You swear you almost went crazy that week.

“Babe, who taught you that?”

“Sherry. Why?”

“Because it’s silly. You’re silly.” 

Leon looks up at you, that familiar, lovesick smile he always gives you on his face, the one that makes you give in. 

“Is it so silly to want to woo my precious wife on Mother’s Day?” He asks, hands rubbing at your soft thighs. 

Leon’s already peeling off your panties, the familiar musk hits his nose, and nearly makes him drool. Leon can’t lie, he loves going down on you. “To worship this beautiful body of yours?”

The heat rushes up your neck to your ears, legs spreading on cue. Is that Ivan Pavlov calling your name? All Leon needs is the bell.

“So romantic…” 

Leon doesn’t miss the sarcasm in your tone, letting out a chuckle. His warm breath washes over your exposed cunt, “only you bring out the Shakespeare side of me, sweetheart.”

“Whatever—“ the words die on your tongue as Leon’s tongue swipes up your slit. The warmth of his saliva and his stubble pricking your inner thighs makes goosebumps form on your skin. 

Leon doesn’t even try to take things slow, to savor the taste of your delicious pussy. No, he’s lapping at your puffy lips like a dog. His nose bumping against your clit, drawing out moans from you.

Your fingers are tangled in his hair, trying to guide his movements. Of course, the bump keeps getting in the way, so there’s not much you can do to maneuver him. Really, you can barely see Leon’s face over your bump, which is literally the best part of oral. Eye contact while your husband desperately sucks on your clit and fingers you.

All it takes is a little bit of stimulation to get your breasts leaking. Cotton fabric darkening as milk spills out. Almost akin to Spidey-Senses, Leon’s head shoots up. 

His eyes immediately narrowed on your leaky breasts. Finally. 

Leon sits up, moving to make himself comfortable on your side.

You groan as Leon pulls away, your juices coating Leon’s stubbled chin. “Why’d you stop?”

“Mm… because,” Leon responds, pulling down the top of your dress to free your heavy tits. “I thought of something else that would show how much I appreciate my wifey on Mother’s Day.”

This time it’s hard to stop the eye roll. He just wants to suck on your tits as always. “Which is?”

Leon’s tongue slips out from between his lips, licking up the bead of milk that dribbles from your nipple. Your nipple hardens at the touch of a warm tongue, shivers going down your spine—it didn’t matter that Leon had done this before—your body was just too sensitive.

Just a hint of sweetness on your skin, the familiar taste of breastmilk on his tongue. “Mm, not sure how I feel about that sample, my love.”

“Oh?”

Leon squeezes your breast to make more milk spill out. “Yeah, I’m gonna need another taste.” 

Leon’s mouth latches onto your nipple, tongue swirling around the hardened bud. And this man suckles, he isn’t wasting a drop! His eyes are closed as he rests his head against your shoulder.

Comforting. Leon feels normal when he’s in your arms. Well, as normal as a man like him can feel. Leon’s stubble scrapes against your soft skin. A low moan rumbles in the middle of his chest as he squeezes the breast he’s sucking on to get more milk out. 

Shit, that blissful look on Leon’s face is adorable. Not too adorable to forget about your throbbing clit though. 

“Babe.”

“Mm?”

“Are you still gonna make me cum?”

Leon’s eyes flutter open as he pulls back, “shit, yeah. Of course.” 

Leon’s hand moves between your thighs again, middle finger sliding through your drenched slit. His finger circles your swollen nub a few times, your hips bucking towards his hand. 

“You taste so good, sweetheart,” Leon murmurs. He lowers his head, immediately latching onto your neglected tit that’s still heavy with milk. Lips wrapped around your nipple as he slowly presses his thick finger into your entrance.

Leon pumps his finger in and out of your entrance, stretching you out before adding another finger. Leon’s strokes are gentle, hitting as deep as he can. Your juices coat his fingers. It’s hard to keep quiet with Leon sucking on your tit and fingering you. The palm of his hand hitting your clit with each thrust of his hand, coaxing out sweet and whiny moans from you.

Your hand threads through Leon’s strands again, nails grazing his scalp, sending heat straight to his dick. Tonight isn’t about his dick though, it’s all about his sweet angel.  His cheeks hollowed as he suckled harder, his face rubbing against your chest.

Warm and nurturing, just like mama. Leon swears your milk tastes better than mama’s—sorry mama—it’s just the truth. Sweeter. Creamier. In his head at least. Leon straight up mewls in pleasure, a sound you rarely hear unless you overstimulate him to the point of tears.

“What’s wrong, baby?” Your tone is soft and quiet, yet he can hear the rapid thumps of your heartbeat in his ear. Is it wrong to be thinking about mama while his fingers are deep in your dripping cunt and while he’s nursing from you? Probably.

Leon never was one for normalcy. 

He just shakes his head. Unlatching himself just to press soft kisses all over your breasts. “I just love you, mama.”

Mama?

His thumb circles your engorged clit, momentarily distracting you. Your head falling back against the headboard, the warmth building in your lower gut. 

“Mmf, Leon…” you pant, chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. Of all things to call you, it had to be mama? It’s hard to question Leon with his mouth suckling at your tits and his fingers stimulating your g-spot. Only able to moan and mewl Leon’s name.

“Mama’s milk is so delicious,” his warm pink tongue laves around your nipple, watching it harden under his tongue. His thumb doesn’t stop circling your bud, increasing its pace in tandem with his pumping fingers.

“So sweet,” Leon murmurs. His lips trailing from your breasts to your neck, leaving behind some kisses. 

Leon doesn’t remember much from his childhood. Maybe his brain doesn’t want to remember his alcoholic father and the way he raised his hand to his sweet mama, left her battered and blue. 

He remembers mama’s pretty brown eyes. Strawberry blonde hair rolled up in big pink rollers. Mama liked emulating the styles of Bianca Jagger, Twiggy, or Jerry Hall. Leon didn’t understand it. Mama had a bunch of Avon on her dresser, and she would tell Leon not to touch it. Daddy would get mad at mama for buying so much makeup.

Most of all, Leon remembers mama’s sweet hugs and kisses. The same kind he gets from you. The way your arms squeeze around him as if he’s the only person who matters. 

You’re so patient. Even when Leon gives you every reason not to be. The alcohol that you have to pry from him so he doesn’t relapse, keeping his true feelings locked away behind his ribcage, or his tendency to isolate himself to avoid being a burden on you.

And there’s no reason to doubt why Leon sees his sweet mama in you. No reason to doubt why he settled down with you to start a family. 

Leon snaps out of his daze when he hears you moan his name. His hand didn’t stop moving, thumb rubbing your clit in furious circles until he feels your velvety walls clenching around his digits.

Your back only arches slightly off the bed as your orgasm crashes over you. Toes curled and head thrown back in pleasure. Leon’s fingers work you through your orgasm, feeling your juices drench his fingers. 

“Good girl, mama,” Leon praises. His lips pressing against your cheek, his body molded to your side. He has to be close to you. Leon pulls his fingers out, feeling your stickiness. Bringing his fingers up to his mouth, lips stretching around his fingers to taste your delicious nectar. He sucks his fingers clean, letting out a groan. Leon loves the way you taste. 

“Mm, I don’t know what I like more. Your milk or your pussy,” Leon says. A breathy laugh leaves you as you try to catch your breath. His head nestles in the crook of your neck, strong arms wrapping around you, mindful of your bump. He takes in your scent, the musk and vanilla that lingers on your skin. 

Leon leans over to press a big wet kiss on your lips, making your nose scrunch up. “Happy Mother’s Day, mama.” 

[harlotistic-side]

AUGHHH YOU WRITE YEARNING SO GOOD MUSEEEEEEE i'm in love. like you just casually drop such banger lines?? my fave in this is:

"Like a puppy denied the couch but still wanting to lie at your feet. His large hands sank into the comforter as he climbed up, shoulders hunched and gazed lowered."

HELLO??? and the calf kissing, the begging, the everything, over kitty cards (too fucking real. me and zayne almost divorced over it. mf is merciless). UGHHH i love it. he is such a yearning loser but a man who yearns is a man who earns truly.

10 big booms for this 💥💥💥💥💥💥💥💥💥💥 (stealing them back from you so i can make the booms brighter before giving it back 💋)

PAW-VERWHELMED

CW: gn!reader/mc, body worshiping, caleb grovels for forgiveness, reader is petty and dramatic, not proofread and short AN: caleb you will explode in two days…trust on josephine's grave. (He beat me in kitty cards three times and it pissed me off)

Losing three Kitty Cards matches in a row to Caleb wasn’t the issue—it was the smug little smile after the third win that sent you over the edge. You stood from your shared blanket on the floor, phone in hand, silent and unreadable. Caleb looked up, still grinning, and cards fanned out between his fingers like trophies.

“That was brutal,” he chuckled. “Rematch?”

You gave him one look, blank and empty. Then turned and walked away.

That was two days ago.

Since then, you’d spoken only when absolutely necessary. A nod when he asked if you wanted dinner. A head shake when he offered dessert.

You even slept at the far edge of the bed, wrapped in your own fortress of pillows and plushies. Each one strategically positioned to face him—an army of stuffed witnesses to his crimes.

Caleb had tried everything.

Your favourite snacks he knew you liked? Unopened and untouched.

Your favourite tea that he made in your chipped dragon mug? Went cold.

Memes and videos of him saying this is us? Left on read.

You basically ignored him.

And that was worse.

The second night, he found you curled up on the bed again. His hoodie swamped your frame, legs tucked beneath you, eyes on your phone and headphones in. No glance spared his way. Just the occasional ghost of a smile at whatever video you were watching.

Caleb stood in the doorway, breathing in deeply before stepping inside.

“I made your tea,” he said gently, “with honey. Just how you like it.”

Nothing.

He placed the mug on the nightstand like it was a peace offering and then sat on the floor beside the bed with his head bowed.

“I booked us tickets to that movie you’ve been wanting to see,” he tried again. “This weekend. I made sure it doesn’t clash with anything.”

Still no response.

Caleb took a chance to look up. You were still beautiful in your silence, and if you’d turned just slightly, you’d see how his gaze clung to you like he was trying to memorise your silhouette.

He dropped his chin onto the edge of the mattress with a soft, defeated sigh.

“Please talk to me.”

Finally, your voice came, low and cold, like ice down his spine.

“You didn’t have to combo me like that.”

His lips parted. “It wasn’t on purpose. I just…got excited.”

You pulled your headphones down and turned to face him. For the first time in two days.

“And you smiled.”

“I… I did?”

“A smug smile,” you said, pointedly. “Like you were proud of breaking me.”

He groaned, dragging a hand over his face. “It was Kitty Cards, pipsqueak. I didn’t think it would cost me everything.”

“That’s the problem,” you said. “It wasn’t just a game. It was our game. I invited you into something I enjoy, and you…you comboed me to death.”

Each word struck like a hit to the gut. Caleb swallowed thickly, then shifted onto his knees beside the bed, and resting his palms on the edge.

He then started crawling onto the mattress.

Slowly. Shamefully.

Like a puppy denied the couch but still wanting to lie at your feet. His large hands sank into the comforter as he climbed up, shoulders hunched and gazed lowered.

He didn’t speak or crack a joke.

Instead, he leaned forward and pressed a kiss to your ankle.

Soft. Barely there. His breath trembled.

You didn’t move. But you didn’t stop him either.

Caleb kissed it again, just above your sock line, reverent and silent.

“You haven’t even glared at me,” he whispered. “Do you know how sick that is? I miss your glare.”

Still nothing.

So he kissed the inside of your calf. Then just beneath your knee. Each press of his lips was more desperate, like maybe he could earn your forgiveness one inch at a time.

“I brought my dumb competitive pilot brain into something sacred,” he said softly. “I’m sorry. I just wanted to be good at something you loved so you’d be proud of me.”

You finally looked at him—expression unreadable, but eyes locked.

That was enough to undo him.

He rested his cheek against your thigh, looking up with his big violet glassy eyes, and a soft voice.

“You’re my favourite place to be.”

You didn’t answer, but your fingers twitched. He caught it.

So he nuzzled you gently, like a mutt seeking warmth, then whispered, “I’ll wear the kitty ears. I’ll meow. I’ll let you combo me every day for the rest of my life.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Do it. Now.”

“Meow,” he whispered immediately. “Meow. Meow.”

Your hand finally reached down, cupping his face. He leaned into it like a drowning man would to air.

“You’re pathetic.”

“I know.”

“And dramatic.”

“Only for you.”

You traced your thumb along his cheek, and his eyes fluttered shut at the contact.

“You’re not allowed to win without grovelling again,” you murmured.

“Deal.”

“And next time you combo me like that…” you leaned forward just slightly, your lips close enough to feel his breath stutter, “you better cry about it.”

“I will.”

“Good.”

He smiled. “You looked hot ignoring me, by the way.”

You shoved a plushie into his face. “Caleb.”

He kissed the plushie. “Still counts.”

[harlotistic-side]

Narayana/Brangta's (my oc) personal opinions of each Lis!!

{note : all of these are platonic}

English is not my first language, so apologies for any grammatical error ><

♛┈⛧┈•༶Lumiere༶•┈⛧┈♛

The moonlight shone through the cracks of the workshop's door, reflecting on the various tools and equipments laying around the room.

The mechanic wiped his(her) forehead, using her(his) hand as a fan.

Working as a weapon mechanic for mainly the deepspace hunters can be quite a taxing job.. Not only is their weapon brittle, it's also equipped with so many tiny compartments he(she) might as well be fixing a microchip. It truly never ends to piss her(him) off. Sadly, their weapons only get more complicated each day. There's this big thing... ray gun, was it? Dropped onto his(her) doorstep. Rude, really, but what can she(he) do? sigh, he(she) almost missed the simplicity of fixing a good old taurus 44 mag magnum...

—creaakk...

"Hm? Ah, I'm about to close..."

...oh well, it's not like there's any harm in a little midnight work. Probably has their gun jammed or their blade crooked or something.

"How can I help you?"

"..."

Now that she(he) looks at the stranger properly, they don't have those flimsy deepspace hunter's uniform. They look more like.. a performer? They got the looks for it, it seems. Fancy clothes too. How did they fight in that—?

—clank! clank! clank! clank! clank!

"..ah?"

...oh, those blades are in a very, very, poor condition.

At least most of them are half-melted (Wanderers have a temperature of 1000°C now? He(she) has to implement some upgrades on the hunter's weapon again..), one of the blade's handle is missing, of course— most are crooked.

Huh.. seems like most of these poor babies will need a re-melting. She(he)'s only one person, though, and he(she) wasn't finished with the wand yet. Maybe this'll take like.. 4, 5 months-?

"I need them done by next month. "

....huh????

"...okay. For whom will these be returned to?"

"Lumiere. "

—-

Like always, all he has been doing ever since returning to Linkon is doing whatever it is pipsqueak wants to do. Sometimes they just go in a circle, sometimes they play kitty cards, most of the time they're in the arcade, and today she wants to eat his (former) adjutant's meatbun.

The bell on top of the door rings on impact, sending a cheery, almost serene atmosphere paired with the warm spring breeze and the scent of braised meat.

"Āyí!"

He chuckles at the nickname his pipsqueak always uses on the old man, amused by her ability to bring light with just a nickname with a sing-song voice.

"Can I have a—"

He knows it so well at this point. "Two green chili meatbuns with chili oil on the side? Oh, and make that suuuper juicy! Oh, and some chicken meatbun to-go!", like clockwork.

He sat down once the two rotund buns is ready, ushering his pipsqueak to sit down as well.

"How's life, Narayana?"

"Ugh, there's this guy Lumiere—"

COUGH! COUGH! COUGH!

"Whoops. Was it too dry? Here's some water. Anyways—"

"Why'd he have to ask for those blades of his to be done in a month? How does one damage their weapons so severely anyways?!"

*+:｡.｡ Dr. Li ｡.｡:+*

She(he)'s been having sudden heartbeat spikes, lately.

Lots of motor problems too. Bending down sometimes send his(her) muscles taut, it always stings a lot and too long whenever that happens. She(he) tried drinking those milk for people with osteoporosis, but it doesn't seem like it's working? Is it possible he(she)'s already showing signs of deteriorating at the ripe age of 36?

"You should go see a doctor!" The madam (Colonel Caleb's wife(?)) oft suggested.

"Yeah.. I don't know. Seems a bit too complicated. I'd have to arrange appointments and it's hard to do that with you deepspace hunters breaking your guns.."

The madam looks a bit guilty, thankfully she doesn't seem offended.

"You just have to do a check-up! There's this great doctor I know..."

For like... 15 minutes straight (might be more, might be less, truthfully), the madam rambled about this doctor. Apparently, he's a cardiologist who's also her childhood bestfriend alongside Boss (Caleb). He's her primary physician and is in charge of checking her up every month to make sure her heart is still functioning properly.

Seems like a great guy, this doctor is. Being a well-accomplished at such a young age. His parents ought to be proud.

"Here, I'll arrange an appointment for you.."

"—wait, ma'am—"

—-

It's not so bad. The doctor kept it professional, gave helpful insights, and gave him(her) prescriptions. Really nice with it, too. He tried to joke sometimes. She(he)'s not really sure how to reply, since most of the time it flew over his head.

"Thank you, Dr. Li. Oh— the madam said she couldn't come and give you your weekly sweets, so she had me make it instead. "

"...the madam?"

"Oh, y'know, your childhood friend?"

The recognition seems to click with him.

"Here you go. "

He looks like he wants to physically recoil, but can't.

"...is this.. Carrot cake?"

"..yeah?"

"..."

"... Boss told me you like carrot cakes. "

"Who's this 'Boss'?"

"Colonel Caleb?"

He sighs like he has been deeply perturbed.

"Alright, you're dismissed now. "

"..okay. "

"Is he deathly allergic to carrots? Did I just trigger some trauma of his? What's going on???"

❃.✮:▹ Rafayel ◃:✮.❃

The beach is not particularly nice in this time of year. Maybe it's because it's a holiday, but there's more trash laying around and the beach guards are too overwhelmed to cover the whole area.

The sunset does look nice from here, though. A soft hint of purple mixed together with hues of pink and orange. And.. hm?

Is that a person walking barefoot on the sand? He looks quite deep in thought... is he not worried about crabs pinching on his legs and other types of sand-dwellers lurking beneath?

Eh, whatever. Maybe he's already used to it. That's nice, at least.

—-

"Where are you going again, ma'am?"

The madam only looks back with a smile, putting her hair up in a ponytail.

"To bodyguard an artist. "

"Ah, can you tell me which one? I'm kinda lost.."

The madam pulls out her phone and points at a particularly pouty looking man with a rather childish expression.

...didn't I see this guy before?

"He's really whiny, so he's gonna rant for at least 2 hours if I'm a minute late, so bye!"

...huh.

"...i guess painters are well-known for being strange?"

ﾟ+*:;;:* 2nd Boss *:;;:*+ﾟ

Oftentimes, HA paycheck isn't enough to pay his(her) bills and her(his) rent, so he(she) has to look for alternative jobs.

Being a meatbun shop owner is one thing, but people doesn't exactly crave a meatbun from a traditional looking place nowadays.

Turning to illegal jobs feels as easy as moving her(his) limbs. Not like he(she) hasn't done it before, but at the same time it feels quite strange to dabble in it.

Thankfully, this boss she(he)'s working under is quite nice. Generous with his pays, too. He(she) should probably send him some blueprints he might like.

Most of the time he just asked for supplies. Gunpowder, pistol compartments, etc. He never asked for more so far. He's quite grateful. Keeping up with the HA's demands is hard already...

Speaking of which, here comes his sons.

"Mornin'!"

"It's afternoon, idiot. "

"Good day to you too. "

As per usual, they get into business. Some of their daggers are crooked and their weapons are easily jammed. Nothing she(he) couldn't fix. Looks like today's gonna be a slow day—

"Dad also asked for 500 4×4 boxes of gunpowder, by the way. "

"...what the fuck. "

"He goes overboard sometimes... but he pays me well, I suppose?"

»»—⍟—««Boss»»—⍟—««

He(she) feels bad for the kid.

In his early 20s, a good student, a good family, a bright future and an accomplished kid... only to have all of it snuffed out by Ever.

She(he) stands over his bed, sometimes, mourning for the young lad's future. Unlike him, his(her) future is bleak. There was no hope from the start, and there's no hope now.

...she(he) supposed all he(she) could do was help him find his footing. He still looks tense and uneasy, and he looks at that prosthetic like it's a parasite. He doesn't eat, too. She(he) has to do something about that, at least.

—-

"Boss?"

"I'm busy, Adjutant. "

"I already did your work, though. "

"..."

The kid finally came over, though he still looks uneasy. "Speak now. " "I noticed you weren't eating. " "Who'd eat a cardboard box dressed as MRE?" "...true. "

He(she) gestured to the stove before them, and the crate of fishes below. There's a scent of grilled meat, probably from the MRE and the fishes combined.

"What's this?" "Lunch. " "I don't need—" "I'll crush your prosthetics, Boss. " "..."

That seems to coax him over, at least. She(he) dished out a plate, scooping out a few spoonfuls.

"Eat. "

Like someone who just got scolded, the young lad finally sat down and ate properly, eating the food given to him. There's a spark of recognition in his eyes, something that makes him remember his time on land out of Ever's clutches.

"..what is this?" "Eh, just some grilled fish with MRE and soy sauce. "

The man sat in contemplation, like he wants to say something but.. couldn't.

"You wanna know how to make it?" "..yes. "

—-

"This is my wife. "

Colonel Caleb pointed at a picture of a girl hugging him close, a bright smile on her face.

That's.. sad. He's already married before being brought here. He must've missed her dearly. Not only is he unable to contact his wife, she's probably unaware if he's alive or not. He probably just got married before being abducted, too..

"That's nice, Boss. " "...i miss her so much. " "I understand, Boss. " "I've kept cameras on her house. " "...pardon?"

—-

The girl standing before his(her) counter cheerfully asking for a green chili meatbun now looks awfully similar to the girl in that photo...

"Okay, would you like any condiments, ma'am?" "Oh, please don't call me ma'am, I'm only 24.."

She(he) supposed that makes sense. Being called sir for the first time does make him(her) recoil for a moment. No one with two heads in their age likes being called formally, she(he) supposed.

"It's out of formality. You're my Boss's wife. "

"...who?"

"My Boss. Colonel Caleb?"

"Who told you this?"

"Himself..?"

"...????"

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚　˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚　˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚　˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

I'm over here stroking my dih I got lotion on my dih rn I'm stroking my shi. I'm horny asf man I'm a freak man.

[harlotistic-side]

brooo the last part is crazy because like i feel like being put in a position of like helplessness when her whole life has been so calculated and strategic would make her fall in love idk (minus the kid part but ygwim) next time leon texts he gets a blurry view of chris replacing him 🫶 also imagine ada like had her ability to get pregnant removed and she just keeps saying how she doesnt wanna get pregnant so he'll go faster.

(rb-ing on my fic rb acc to manifest this into reality)

y’all know what i was thinking abt recently… hate fuck between Ada and Chris. and the fact that Ada was cut from re8 like can you imagine what it would be like for Chris to see Ada after the events of re6?

Obv Chris is debriefed and finds out it was a clone that killed his men. he knows he shouldn’t be upset with Ada but he just can’t help himself esp after he confronted the real Ada and she was just nonchalant abt his accusations or whatever.

anyway, can imagine seeing Ada brings up those memories that Chris tries hard to push down bc he lives in a kill or be killed mindset and he knows those men died for a good cause. think he’s also pissed abt Leon taking Ada’s side without knowing the full story (and other events after).

Ada definitely says a teasing comment when her and Chris lock eyes. Even with time the wound hasn’t healed and he blames Ada for everything. Blames Ada for getting involved in shady businesses if Ada had just been a good person none of that would’ve happened.

Chris is just going off on Ada and she has that same smirk she always has whenever Leon’s ranting at her. (Sorry men are beneath her).

Seeing that Ada isn’t going to apologize or has no remorse for the situation, Chris just snaps. At first he truly intends to hurt Ada. But he thinks about it and realizes he could get his ‘revenge’ on Leon too.

At that point he’s just groping Ada, forces her on her stomach and shoves her panties down just so he can play with her clit. ok kinda think Ada plays into her femme fatale side and sleeps around with men but it’s usually never good. but I think she’d be kinda turned on by Chris manhandling her LMAO (not projecting I swear).

idk it takes two orgasms before Ada stops fighting back. and once Chris sees that Ada has ‘given’ up, he takes out all his anger out on her hard and fast. choking her until she’s on the verge of passing out.

Cums in her because he knows children are the last thing Ada would ever want.

[harlotistic-side]

keep older leon away from bioweapon reader…. nothings visibly wrong with you, yew can just regenerate!! a poor fucked up experiment that has no idea what kind of purpose she serves anymore, if she even had one to begin with. which unfortunately tempts leon to do all kinds of fucked up things to her because he has no better output for his frustration, and what’s more fun than further confusing a helpless girl?,,.

him breaking a beer bottle and carving your arm with one of the shards or using his combat knife to stab into your plush thighs like a pin-cushion,, telling you to shut up when you cry because he says he could do worse and,, the scary part is that yew know he isn’t lying. :( !!… he has a veryvery strange habit of strangling you, wanting to see you claw at his hands while your pretty mouth gasps out wavering pleas. can’t help but force his tongue down your throat and bite your lips til you bleed in hopes of you fainting!!! >.<

& he tells you that’s just how love is…. that if you don’t want it, you can leave,,!. but you both know that you won’t, because you’re finally useful for something……..

[harlotistic-side]

oh my god vivi. this has me deceased. i need to marry this stupid idiot asap like WHY DID THIS HAVE ME GIGGLING LIKE AN IDIOT FOR LIKE 5 MINUTES NOW?? I'M GOING TO THINK ABOUT THIS FOREVER. can't believe fuckass tumblr didnt notify me of this 😮‍💨 it sorta gives b99 and like cute af romcom vibes i love it so much. i love you for this 👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩

Leon's no stickler for wedding traditions. But when no something blue has you feeling blue, he might just have a fix.

f / m fluff and cuteness before you walk down the aisle. leon is a sweetheart. one or two bad puns. you're a lil anxious but that's okay!! ft. your beloved's neck trauma </3

word count: 888 // read on ao3 // drabble masterlist

a/n: for zo from this ask. i got asked about what a wedding between leon and reader in my agent au might look like and this is SO BAD I'M SORRY. I WROTE THIS AT 1 AM WITH CLASS AT 7 THE NEXT DAY. posted on ao3 first bc i was too sleepy to make the tumblr banner 🤧 *gestures vaguely hoping you still like it*

“One peek. For half a second.”

“It’s bad luck.”

“Since when have you cared about being lucky? You’ve never needed luck to land a bullet.”

Shoulder pressed to your dressing room’s door, laughter flutters in your chest. “You don’t get it. It’s the principle.”

“What kind of fuckass principle-”

“Leon!”

“-gets to tell me I can’t see my wife?” 

“Soon-to-be,” you smile, picking at the white lace of your bodice. 

“Oh man.” You practically hear your still-fiancé’s fingers fly up to pinch the bridge his nose. “Sweetheart, you should’ve told me you were such a goody-two shoes before I put that ring on your finger.”

“You didn’t get the memo after I’ve been landing you in hot water with Hunnigan for three years now?”

Leon’s palms clap dejectedly against the door. Half-surrender, half-plea.

“For the millionth time, go away,” you giggle. You lean your back against the door. Imagine him doing the same when the wood paneling seems to press back. Breathe for a beat too many before saying, “You’ll see me in a bit, I just…I need the luck for today to be perfect.”

You think you’ve finally won when he goes silent. For a second, anyway.

“So that’s what it is.”

“Hm?”

“Are you nervous?” Leon asks quietly.

“What girl isn’t nervous on their wedding day?” you whisper back.

“Does it have to be? What if our wedding isn’t perfect?”

Talk about a surefire way to spike a bride’s heart rate. You frantically check your reflection in the vanity mirror. Clutch your bouquet tighter lest it fall fantastically apart at his words. 

“See, this is why you’re not supposed to be here,” you hiss at the door, “now I’m panicking!”

One last roll call. You’re sure you’ve planned for everything. Your something old: your mother’s wedding veil. Something new, the diamonds on your neck. Something borrowed: the roses you’ll carry to the altar, gathered from your maid of honor’s garden that you’ll make sure to toss back. Something blue…

“Shit!” you cry out. 

“What? What’s wrong?”

“I forgot my something blue, Leon, I can’t walk without it!”

“You’re sure?”

Of course you’re sure. It’s Wedding 101, the one rule you can’t break. Everything you’ve been through with the man on the other side of the door has led up to this moment. Your jobs never allowed you the privilege of making mountains out of molehills, but today? This is the moment you’d been promised would be perfect – in spite of the endless trials and tribulations the universe seemed intent on imposing on the both of you. 

Sleepless nights. Far-flung disappearances. Knives at your throats. Knives at each other’s throats that one time with the parasites. Thanklessly saving the world from the brink of disaster only to have each other to lean on at the end of the day. Over and over, falling in love with the only person who understands the fatal mistake of taking normalcy for granted. 

Just once, you wished you could have it like everybody else waiting for you to walk down the aisle. 

“Open the door, sweetheart.”

Your voice cracks. The no doesn’t come out like it should. 

A muffled swish of fabric sounds from the other side, and Leon repeats himself, tacking on a soft please this time. “Do you trust me?”

Nobody more than him.

“Just stick out your leg,” he murmurs. “I won’t look.”

An odd request. You crack open the door. Hesitantly step out your right foot. 

“Little more, please.”

If you’re not mistaken, the faintest of sighs sounds the moment you do. Leon presumably drops to his knees at the muffled thud of carpet that ensues, and it’s suddenly your turn to gasp. He’s reaching up your dress, fingers skirting over your leg, along your thigh-

“What are you doing?” you squeak, gripping the doorframe.

“Not that I’m into the garter thing, it’s kinda gross, actually – phew, you’re not wearing your holster – but maybe this will work.”

Smooth, silky fabric encircles your thigh in seconds. 

“Too tight?”

“Mm-mm…”

He chuckles softly and ducks out, taking care to fix your skirts as if nothing ever happened, looking decidedly the other way the whole time. You pull your foot back into the safety of your dressing room and bunch up your dress in confusion to find-

A navy bow tie wrapped around your upper thigh.

“How’s that?” Leon ventures hopefully.

It’s something. It’s blue. You relay this to him, disbelief eventually bubbling into laughter. 

“But now you don’t have a bow tie, stupid!”

“Would you believe me if I told you I’ve been waiting for an excuse to get rid of it? You know how much I-”

“-hate things around your neck.”

“Right?” The exasperation in his voice makes you giggle. “And they wouldn’t listen when I told them, baby. I told you, I’m hopeless without you.” 

Leon’s hand reaches out on a mission to find yours, one that it fulfils, complete with a kiss on your knuckles. A mission with ulterior motives; you pretend not to see the flash of something blue that glances up at you. The blue you can’t wait to wake up to for the rest of your life.  

“Perfect wedding or not, I just wanna marry you. Don’t you?”

You don’t save the I do for the altar.

What’s one more imperfect tradition?

click for my full drabble collection, and find more of my work here!

likes kill fics :( comments and reblogs are very much appreciated <3

[harlotistic-side]

call me a cow the way i would graze on that grass field every single day 🙏🙏🙏 (bitch, i'm a cow or whatever doja cat said) also the fucking comments section!!!!!! im sobbingggg is xfrostedCherryx a reference tho? 😶‍🌫️ BUT OMG it kept making me giggle i love it. everyone say thank you muse and kory for bushifying the world one pube follicle at a time 🗣🗣

☆━ juicyapple is now live!

CW: 18+(mdni), wlw, fem!caleb, sub!reader, oral sex, mutual consent, camgirl au, not proofread. AN: this is for @indierokkers2005 very late bday gift <3 tumblr ate your ask about bush caleb when I draft it but here it is! hope you like it bbg <333

Helping your camgirl roomie! Caleb pay the bills wasn’t exactly on your to-do list—but here you are, holding her camera while she’s on all fours, arching her back and shaking her panty-clad ass like she was born for the spotlight.

The lace hugs every curve. Her soft bush peeks out just barely where the fabric thins, and her tits sway with every roll of her hips, barely contained in a sheer bralette that’s doing more showing than covering.

You swallow hard, trying to keep the camera steady. Gosh—if you had a dick, you’d be rock hard right now.

Caleb glances back over her shoulder with a grin, catching the way you’re staring. “Getting all hot and bothered over there, director?”

You open your mouth to protest, but she’s already crawling toward you—lazy, feline. She plucks the phone from your hand, sets it on the tripod and grabs your wrist.

“C’mon,” she murmurs, pulling you to the bed. “Let me show them how cute my roommate looks when she’s flustered.”

Before you can fully process it, she’s straddling you, hips rolling slowly as she settles into your lap. Her curls brush against your thigh, and the heat between her legs is unmistakable even through the lace.

She leans in, lips at your ear. “Smile for the camera,” she purrs. “They love a good girl-on-girl moment.”

You sit stiffly on the edge of the bed, pulse hammering in your throat as Caleb straddles your lap like she’s done this a hundred times. Maybe she has. Maybe just not with you.

Her hips start to roll, slow and purposeful, grinding down into you with enough pressure to make your thighs tense. You can’t help the tiny gasp that escapes you, and Caleb’s grin only widens.

“Aw,” she coos softly, loud enough for the mic to pick up. “My roomie’s shy.”

Your face burns as the chat explodes:

“OH?? Roomie content???”

“SHE’S BLUSHINGGGG”

“why touch grass when i can touch her bush”

“that shouldve been MEE 💔”

Caleb leans in, pressing her chest flush against yours. Her tits are soft and warm, the lace barely there between your skin and hers. You try not to look down, but it’s impossible—not when her cleavage is practically eye-level and bouncing with every motion.

She gives a little shimmy just to tease, then grabs your wrists and places your hands on her waist. “Hold on to me,” she murmurs, eyes glinting with mischief. “You look like you’re about to combust.”

“I—I’m fine,” you stammer, voice embarrassingly high.

She giggles and nuzzles close, hips still grinding as her fingers trail up to her bralette. “You think they wanna see a little more?” she asks sweetly, tugging one strap off her shoulder. 

“can i be invited to the sleepover?”

“FREETHETITTIES!!!!”

“roomie’s face is so cute rn”

“dont tease us, apple!”

Caleb’s smirk deepens, and with a flick of her fingers, she pulls the bralette down—just enough for her tits to spill free. They’re full and flushed, nipples peaked from excitement, brushing against your chest as she leans in again.

“You okay down there?” she whispers, lips brushing your cheek. “Or do I need to slow down?”

You swallow, trying to answer, but she shifts again, rolling her hips with more pressure this time. A soft whimper slips out before you can stop it, and Caleb lights up.

“There it is,” she purrs, pulling back just enough to straddle you properly and start a real rhythm, grinding slow but firm. Her curls tickle your thighs as she rides your lap like it’s the only place she wants to be.

“id sell my soul to be that roommate”

“🥵🥵💦💦”

“she’s not even faking it this time”

“THIS is why I subscribe monthly”

Caleb rolls her hips again, and you swear your brain short-circuits.

“C’mon,” she murmurs, leaning in close, her lips grazing your ear. “Don’t just sit there like I’m gonna do all the work.”

Your fingers twitch, and she reaches down, guiding your hands up her sides until your palms settle just beneath her breasts.

“That’s it,” Caleb purrs. “Touch me. Let them see how much you want to.”

You hesitantly cup her breasts, thumbs brushing over her nipples—and the way her body shudders in response makes your breath catch. Her head tips back, lips parting, and she moans softly, almost theatrically—but the flush in her cheeks and the way her hips stutter say otherwise.

“You like that?” she breathes, grinding down a little harder. “I do.”

Your voice cracks. “You’re gonna kill me.”

Caleb’s eyes flash with mischief as she pushes you gently back onto the bed. The moment your back hits the mattress, she straddles you, hovering just above your chest, the warmth of her body radiating through the lace.

“You’ve been watching me all night like that,” she teases, voice husky, “the least you could do is help me out of these.”

Your throat goes dry, eyes locked on the damp spot spreading across her panties—soaked and clinging, her soft curls visible beneath the sheer fabric. You reach up slowly, fingers brushing her hips, and she hums in approval. With a gentle tug, you peel the lace down her thighs, dragging the soaked garment over her knees and tossing it aside.

“HOLY MOLY SOMEONE SCREENSHOT THAT ANGLE”

“roomie’s hands are shaking lmaooo”

“rock, paper, definitely scissor!!”

And honestly, they’re not wrong. Your palms are trembling as Caleb leans in, lowering herself until she’s seated high on your chest, her thighs bracketing your head, heat practically pulsing off her.

“You can touch,” she whispers, cupping one of her breasts and giving it a teasing squeeze. “They want to see what those hands can do.”

You groan softly, hands skimming up her waist, thumbs brushing just beneath the curve of her breasts. Her skin is flushed, chest heaving with each breath, and above you, Caleb looks like a dream come to life, framed in soft light and camera focus.

Your voice is quieter this time, breathy but certain. “Then… maybe I should show them what this mouth can really do instead.”

You pull her down with both hands, firm yet reverent, guiding her until her thighs frame your face and her cunt settles against your mouth. The moment your lips meet her, Caleb shudders—shoulders tensing, a soft gasp catching in her throat.

She’s soft, flushed, and unshaven—her curls brushing against your cheeks as you part her with your tongue, slow and careful. You latch onto her clit, suckling gently, and feel the way her breath hitches, hips jerking just slightly before rolling into your mouth with aching need.

Above you, Caleb’s fingers curl into the sheets, her breath growing unsteady. “Oh… god—don’t stop,” she whispers, voice tight with pleasure and barely contained control.

“roomie’s a keeper”

“holy shit that moan is so hot”

“subscribe to my OF everyone, its way better 🔥”

“Shut up XfrostedCherryX”

You slide your hands up the backs of her thighs, fingertips digging in just a little. She’s soaked, responsive, utterly lost in it. 

Caleb lets out a breathless laugh that dissolves into a moan, her head tipping back slightly as she fights to keep her composure. “You’re… really good at that,” she pants, voice husky, cheeks flushed pink and glowing beneath the lights. “Think I’m gonna ruin you if you keep going like that.”

Your eyes flick up to meet hers, and without pulling away, you hum against her. “Then do it,” you murmur between licks. “Make a mess for me, baby.”

You flick your tongue over her clit while your hands grip her hips. Caleb gasps, thighs clenching around you, her back arcing as a tremor runs through her.

“I’m—”

The word dissolves into a choked cry, pulled from her throat as her body tightens, trembling with the force of release. She spills into you, and you stay with her through every shudder. When the tension eases, you glance up, lips glistening, voice soft and full of hope.

“Did I… do good?” 

“Way better than good, roomie,” Caleb lets out a breathy laugh, still dazed from the high. She brushes a hand through your hair, her fingers lingering at your cheek. "You were a fucking dream. Honestly, I should let you back on the stream next time—chat’s losing their minds."

She smirks, thumb tracing your jaw. "You made me look so good. Might have to make you a regular."

[harlotistic-side]

outfreaking the freakatron himself is crazyyyy 🗣🗣🗣🗣 20 million big booms 💥 (i am rock hard rn). loveee the way you write as always queen going to go imagine warm balls in my hands now. if caleb doesnt want fwb reader i'll take them! 😈

+1-800-UNAVAILABLE

CW: 18+ (mdni), gn!reader, dom!caleb, handjob/blowjob, slight exhibitionism, friend with benefit au.

Stealing your fwb! Caleb’s attention while he’s on the call with his pipsqueak. You’re in his lap before the call even connects, lips pressed to the side of his neck. He doesn’t push you away—just rests a hand on your thigh like he already knows where this is going. The screen lights up with pipsqueak, and he answers with a sigh.

“Hey, pips.”

“Gege!” she chirps, bright and eager. “Took you long enough! I wasn’t sure if you were still alive.”

You drag your mouth slowly up his throat, lips brushing just under his jaw. His voice stays even, but his grip on your leg tightens slightly, warning you.

“Barely,” he mutters. “Been buried in deadlines.”

She laughs. “Same here. Senior year’s a nightmare. Everyone’s obsessed with college, but no one knows what they’re doing. I wish you were still here.”

You trail your fingers down his bare chest, tracing the faint line of his happy trail—dark and soft, leading down from his navel and disappearing beneath his waistband. You follow it lower, teasing just above his jeans before slipping a hand inside. He’s already getting hard, twitching under your palm.

“Yeah?” he says, and even though it’s directed at her, his eyes are on you. “You’ll survive.”

“I dunno.” She sighs dramatically. “Are you coming back home soon? Like for the holidays or whatever? Grandma’s been asking.”

You lean in, lips brushing his ear. Multitasking looks good on you, you whisper as fingers curl around him.

Caleb swallows hard. “I might. Depends on finals.”

“You better,” she says. “It’s not the same without you. One of your old playlists came on while I was studying. I forgot how much I liked your weird taste in music.”

You slide to your knees between his legs, tugging his jeans down enough to free him. He’s heavy and flushed in your palm, thick and already leaking. You stroke him slowly, your thumb teasing the slit, before leaning in to kiss the head—wet, open-mouthed, tongue flicking soft and slow.

Then you take him into your mouth, inch by inch, lips stretching around him.

Your other hand slips lower, cupping his balls. You fondle them gently, fingers rolling over the soft weight in your palm. His breath catches as you massage them, your tongue working the underside of his cock while your hand plays with him, coaxing every ragged breath from his lungs.

Caleb’s fingers curl into your hair, gripping tight, but he doesn’t push. He’s just holding on, grounding himself as you take him apart.

“Still listening to my playlists?” he mutters, voice strained, rougher than before. “You need better taste.”

She laughs, light and clueless. “You’re such a jerk. But seriously—I kinda miss it. You, I mean. Things were more fun when you were still around.”

You hum around him, letting the vibration buzz through your throat while your fingers give his balls another gentle squeeze. His hips jerk, dangerously close to breaking.

“You okay?” she asks suddenly. “You sound weird.”

“M’fine,” he grits out, jaw clenched. “Just… focused.”

“On me?” she teases.

You swirl your tongue around the head, hollowing your cheeks slowly and deeply. His grip on your hair tightens, and his knuckles turn white.

“Sure,” he breathes. “You.”

“You always say that with your liar voice,” she pouts. “Whatever. I’ll let you go if you promise to call later. Don’t forget.”

“Won’t.”

“You swear?”

“Yeah. Bye, Pips.”

The call ends. Caleb doesn’t even look at the phone. He just stares down at you, chest heaving, face flushed.

“You’re outta your fucking mind,” he says, voice frayed and low.

You pull off him with a slick pop, chin wet, hand still gently stroking his cock. “You didn’t stop me.”

His hand fisting in your hair drags you up to meet him, eyes dark and blown wide.

“Get back to work,” he growls. “You wanted my attention? You’ve got it.

“Aye aye, Captain.”

[harlotistic-side]

muse the way this hit every single thing in me. genuinely left me breathless. like how am i supposed to continue everyday life knowing that a caleb fic has it SUMMARISED down to a t. oh my god. this is so sick. and mc...oh my god.

i want to hug reader so bad. mc and caleb will be put in a blender since they want to be together so damn bad 🙄 (outing them as foster siblings and ruining their careers). also caleb doing the whole hair tucking thing and calling her sunshine, knowing that she likes him and then just to ignore her entirely at his graduation is so so so fucking sick. mintak kene tendang.

everything about this is written in a way that scratches my brain and my heart so perfectly im going to cry. i love it so much. i will place this in the nest of my heart forever. beautifully written as always, dinda kesayanganku ♡♡♡♡

CW: non-mc!reader, high school au, angst, unrequited love, hurt/no comfort, insecurity, jealousy, self-hatred, written in first pov, ventfic, unreliable narrator, cliche plot WC: 4.0k

Average. Ordinary. Second best. The plain Jane.

That’s what I am, what I’ve always been. The person who blends into the background, who smiles when I should, laughs when it’s expected.

But never stands out.

So it’s the question of the century: how did I even end up being friends with her? She’s everything I’m not—charismatic, funny, effortlessly pretty, the kind of girl who walks into a room and immediately captures everyone’s attention. The apple of his eye.

I can still remember the first time I met her. It was in the third row, right next to the window. I was awkward, unsure of myself, quietly existing in the corners of the classroom, trying not to draw attention to the fact that I was just another face in the crowd. And then she sat next to me. She was my seatmate, so I guess it was inevitable.

At the time, I couldn’t help but wonder if she had been assigned to me out of pity. After all, who would choose someone like me to be their friend? But she didn’t need a reason. She just…liked me and that was enough.

Initially, I thought it was some kind of fluke. She smiled at me, made small talk, and suddenly, I wasn’t alone in that space. Slowly, I found myself pulling away from the walls I had built around me, allowing her to see parts of me I kept hidden. 

It wasn’t pity in the end. She genuinely wanted to be friends. She didn’t have to choose me, but she did anyway.

Then he entered the picture. Caleb, he was just a name at first, the guy everyone in school seemed to talk about. Star player of the high school basketball team, a natural athlete with a reputation for being both skilled and effortlessly charming. I remember hearing about him long before I saw him. People always flocked to him like he was some kind of magnet.

But when I finally saw him for the first time, it felt like everything seemed to slow down. He wasn’t just a name anymore; he was real. You couldn’t miss him from the way his tall frame moved through the hallways with confidence and the easy smile that never seemed forced. He was the perfect definition of the boy next door. It was clear he wasn’t just someone special to the school, but to her too.

She practically glowed when he was around. I didn’t need to see the way they exchanged jokes or how he called her “pipsqueak” to know she’d known him longer than I had. She was comfortable with him more than I could ever be. And I…well, I was just the audience, watching them from the sidelines. 

It wasn’t like Caleb ever really saw me, at least not in the way I wanted. But then again, he wasn’t the type to make anyone feel invisible. We were both part of her world, after all. So, every once in a while, he’d acknowledge me in passing—small, casual things like a wave in the hall or a brief nod when he saw me sitting next to her at lunch. 

Nothing that stood out. Nothing that made my heart race. But it was enough to make me feel like, maybe, just maybe, I wasn’t entirely forgotten. Maybe he noticed me because he noticed her, and I was simply there, part of the package.

Yet in the end, that’s all it was. A fleeting acknowledgement that never lasted long. Two sides of a perfect coin. Best friend since childhood. 

This is their story, not mine.

—

The school was decorated for Valentine’s Day, with the usual red hearts, streamers and cheesy banners hanging from every corner. It wasn’t anything extravagant, just enough to make the day feel special. It wasn’t a day I particularly looked forward to, but there was something about the way the entire school buzzed that made everything feel a little bit different.

Students milled around, exchanging cards, gifts, and the usual classroom chocolates. I couldn’t help but watch, half-detached as the holiday played out around me. 

I wasn’t expecting anything. Not really. After all, it was just another Valentine’s Day. Nothing more, nothing less.

Then Caleb appeared.

When he finally approached, I saw that familiar smile already on his face. Even in the crowded hallway, he had a way of drawing attention. He reached her first, his grin widening as he handed her a box of chocolates.

“Happy Valentine’s Day,” he said, his tone warm, like this was second nature to him.

She laughed, taking the box without hesitation. “Thanks, Gege. You always know the best ones.”

And just like that, it was the same as always. A tradition between them, something unspoken yet expected, like a habit they had no reason to break.

As she tucked the box under her arm, I noticed her phone swinging gently in her hand. Dangling from the corner was a small green apple keychain, bright and shiny like something picked straight out of a cartoon—playful and fresh, just like her.

I might’ve looked away if Caleb hadn’t shifted slightly then, drawing my eyes to the large red apple charm clipped to his bag. Not the same, but unmistakably a pair. Her green and his red—like they were meant to match, opposite but complementary.

The kind of detail that didn’t just happen. The kind of charm you didn’t buy alone.

I looked at them, then back at the apples. Something sour began to rise in the back of my throat, and I swallowed hard, pretending it was nothing. Just keychains. Just a coincidence.

Before I could fade into the background, she turned to me with a playful grin.

“You forgot this.”

I blinked as she handed me a small box of chocolates. The same kind she had been giving out all day.

“I figured you’d want one too,” she continued, her eyes bright. “Even if you’re not into all this Valentine’s stuff.”

I took the box, a little unsure of how to feel. It wasn’t that I didn’t appreciate it—she was always thoughtful—but something about it felt hollow, like it could’ve meant for anyone. Just another gesture, wrapped up in politeness. Still, I smiled back and took them.

“Hey,” he said, his voice a bit warmer than usual. “I didn’t forget about you either.”

I froze, surprised. He reached into his bag and pulled out a small, familiar red box—the kind of chocolates I’d seen at the store and always picked up for myself but never expected anyone to remember.

“I remember you saying you liked these,” he continued, offering the box with a casual shrug. “So, here. Happy Valentine’s.”

I stared at the box for a second, unable to believe what was happening. Caleb, the one who never paid me much attention—had remembered this one small detail. The world around me seemed to shrink, and I couldn’t find the words to respond immediately.

“Thanks,” I finally managed to say, my voice quieter than usual. I quickly looked away, suddenly aware of the heat creeping up my neck, my pulse racing.

As I held the chocolates, still reeling from the fact that Caleb had seen me, I could feel the weight of her presence next to him. She had already caught his attention again, her laugh filling the space between us as she leaned into him, brushing her hand against his arm.

And just like that, I was back to being a background character in their routine, holding chocolates, a small token that didn’t change anything.

—

It has been a week, and the tension I had tried to push down only grew stronger.

There she was, her usual energy heightened, practically bouncing into the cafeteria the next morning. “Come on!” she said, dragging me by the arm before I could even get a bite of my lunch. “You have to come watch Caleb’s game with me! It’s his biggest match of the season, and he’s asked us to be there.”

I hesitated. I wasn’t exactly a sports fan, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was just a third wheel. They were practically inseparable, and the thought of watching Caleb, the one person who made my heart do flips without even trying, while she was there at his side… well, it made my stomach twist.

“You know I don’t really like watching sports,” I said weakly, trying to pull my arm back, but she wasn’t having it.

“Oh, come on, don’t be like that!” she insisted. “It’ll be fun! You’ll see. He really wants us to come!”

Before I knew it, we were heading to the gym together, my resistance fading with every step. I couldn’t escape it now.

As we found our seats in the crowded bleachers, the energy buzzed all around us. The game was intense, and the gym filled with the roar of excited fans. But despite all the noise, it felt oddly quiet for me.

There he was, in his element on the court, pulling off play after play, and the crowd was eating it up. I couldn’t help but watch him. He was so…perfect on that court. His confidence, his skills, the way he seemed to shine no matter where he was—it was undeniable.

And then I glanced over at her.

She was watching him too, her eyes glued to him as if no one else existed in the world. Her laughter echoed in the stands every time he scored. She cheered him on, high-fiving the people around her, her whole world revolving around him.

A sharp, unfamiliar sting twisted in my chest, something cold and suffocating, as if green tendrils had coiled around my heart, tightening with every passing second. It was jealousy. I knew it. I couldn’t deny it, no matter how hard I tried. But I didn’t have the right to feel it. They were friends—childhood friends. 

When the game finally ended, Caleb walked off the court, a wide grin on his face. His team had won, and the crowd roared with excitement. She was already on her feet, clapping, her face lighting up as she made her way toward him.

I felt a wave of discomfort wash over me. I stayed seated, hesitating, unsure if I should follow her. I wasn’t sure I wanted to witness whatever came next. I knew it would be the same as always: her congratulating him, them laughing together, the same dynamic that had been in place for years.

And sure enough, as soon as Caleb reached her, they shared a moment that felt like it was pulled straight out of a rom-com movie. He grinned and with a playful nudge, lifted her into a quick hug, laughing.

“Great game!” she said, her voice bubbly as always.

“Thanks,” Caleb replied, his voice warm as he released her, his eyes meeting hers in that familiar way.

I stood there, watching them, the jealousy gnawing at me harder than I wanted to admit. It crept in slowly, the green tendrils seeping through the cracks of my heart, winding their way around it, squeezing until it felt like I couldn’t breathe. I tried to push it down, tried to ignore the way it twisted inside me, but it was impossible. The jealousy was there, growing more than ever.

And I couldn’t escape it.

At that moment, Caleb’s gaze shifted, landing on me where I stood off to the side. His expression softened as he began making his way over, leaving her behind in the crowd of well-wishers. I braced myself for what was coming—another small, casual acknowledgement, just like all the others.

“Hey,” Caleb greeted, his voice as easy as always. “You enjoying the game?” 

“Yeah, it was great,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper. I forced a smile, hoping he wouldn’t notice the tightness in my chest. “You played really well.”

“Thanks,” he said, casually leaning against the bleachers. “I’m glad you could make it.” He gave me a small, almost nonchalant grin, and I could feel the air between us growing thinner. “You should come to the next one too. The more the merrier.”

I nodded, but inside I felt like I was shattering. His smile didn’t mean what I wanted it to. He was just being nice, casual. Like we were… just friends. That’s all it was.

Just friends.

—

I hate this.

Jealousy and I have become acquaintances. 

It wasn’t always like this. At first, it was just a passing stranger, brushing against my shoulder whenever I saw them together. A quiet, fleeting thing. But over time, it settled in, got comfortable. Now, it lingers beside me like a shadow, whispering in my ear every time he laughs at one of her jokes or drapes an arm around her.

I should be used to it by now. I tell myself I don’t mind being the extra in their story, the one who watches, who listens, who smiles at all the right moments. But jealousy knows better. It sees the way my heart twists when he looks at her like she’s the only one in the world. It feels like the ache that never quite goes away.

And the worst part? Caleb is kind. So when he turns to me with that easy warmth, when he asks if I’m okay or flashes a smile just because—I almost believe it. I almost let myself think I matter, not just because I’m standing next to someone who does.

But jealousy just laughs. Because we both know the truth.

He notices everyone.

And that’s exactly why he’ll never really see me.

I almost wish he were mean. That he’d ignore me completely, never sparing me a glance. Maybe then, it wouldn’t hurt as much. Maybe then, I could convince myself I never cared in the first place. But he isn’t. He’s warm, thoughtful, and good. And that’s what makes this so much worse.

Because how do you let go of something that was never yours to begin with?

—

The rain started without warning, a sudden downpour that sent students scattering in every direction. Laughter and shrieks echoed through the courtyard as people huddled under jackets, sprinted for buses, or shared umbrellas.

I stood beneath the awning outside the school doors, watching the water hit the pavement in relentless sheets. She had left earlier for practice, and I had no umbrella, no ride—just an excuse to linger a little longer.

“You always get caught in the rain, huh, Sunshine?”

My breath hitched at the familiar voice, low and amused.

I turned, already knowing who I’d see.

Caleb stood a few feet away, one hand tucked in his pocket, the other holding an umbrella at his side. Stray strands of damp hair clung to his forehead, his school blazer slightly wrinkled like he had just pulled it on without care. 

I scoffed. “That’s a dumb nickname.”

He smirked. “Says the one who never remembers an umbrella.” Then, without waiting for permission, he took a step closer, tilting his umbrella just enough to cover me. “Come on, I’ll walk you.”

I hesitated. But the cold air bit at my skin, and it wasn’t like I had another choice.

So I stepped in.

It should’ve been fine. Normal. We had walked together plenty of times before, always because of her. The thought sat heavy in my chest, an unspoken truth I tried to ignore.

The space under the umbrella was small. Too small. The scent of his cologne mixed with the rain, something warm and clean that made my stomach twist in ways I didn’t want to acknowledge.

We walked in silence, the rhythmic patter of raindrops filling the gaps where words should have been. It wasn’t an awkward silence—he never seemed to struggle with those. To me, though, it was suffocating, heavy with everything I’d spent so long trying to ignore.

Caleb hummed thoughtfully. “You always overthink everything, Sunshine.”

I glanced at him. “And you don’t think enough.”

He grinned. “That’s why we balance each other out.”

I bit the inside of my cheek, willing my heart to settle. We didn’t balance anything. I was just—there. A background character in his life, a passing moment he’d forget by tomorrow.

Then, just as casually as everything else he did, he reached out.

“Hold still,” he murmured.

Before I could react, his fingers brushed against my forehead, tucking a damp strand of hair behind my ear.

The touch was light, but it sent a bolt of something sharp and electric through me. The world shrank down to just that moment, just that sensation.

I could say it. Right now.

The words were right there, lodged in my throat. Three small words waiting to slip out.

But I swallowed them down before they could ruin everything.

I wanted him to be indifferent so bad. To treat me like I was just another face in the crowd, someone easily forgotten. But he didn’t. He was Caleb. Kind, thoughtful, always saying just the right thing, doing just enough to keep me hoping.

By the time we reached my house, my clothes were still dry, but my heart was drowning.

He smiled, completely unaware of what he’d just done to me. “See you tomorrow.”

And then he was gone, walking back into the rain, while I stood there, watching, waiting, wishing—soaking in everything I could never have.

– 

That moment under the umbrella should have meant nothing. Just a momentary act of kindness. A small thing.

To him, it probably was. A simple gesture, something he’d done countless times without thinking.

But for me, it was the moment I realized something ugly had settled inside me. Something that stretched beyond just longing or jealousy.

It was envy.

Because she had everything.

Everything I ever wanted.

Not just Caleb, though that stung more than I wanted to admit. It was the way she moved through life—effortlessly. She was always the centre of attention, always the first choice and always the one people gravitated toward. She didn’t have to fight for anyone’s affection. She didn’t have to wonder whether she was enough. She simply was.

She was loved without question. She was accepted, admired, and celebrated.

And me?

I was the girl who blended into the background. The one whose laugh was too quiet to be heard, whose smile was lost among the crowd. The one who always had to fight to be noticed, but when she was, it felt like an afterthought.

And it had always been like that. I had always been the second best—but now? Now, it was so much worse. Every time she smiled at him, every time they shared a joke or a look that I couldn’t understand, the resentment inside me only grew. I wanted to scream, to shake her, to force her to see that I existed too, that I mattered too. But I couldn’t. She was my best friend. And so, I kept my mouth shut.

It wasn’t just about Caleb anymore. It was about everything.

It was about the way she lived in a world where everything was handed to her, where she didn’t have to second-guess her place in anyone’s life. The way people respected her for being who she was, while I was left wondering what I was doing wrong. What made me less than her?

And I hated her for it.

I hated the way she made it look so easy. I hated how every compliment she got felt like a punch to the gut. I hated how she never questioned her worth. 

I couldn’t even give myself the comfort of believing I was worthy of anything.

So, I pulled away.

Not because I was hurt or heartbroken. Not because I couldn’t stand seeing them together. But because I was angry. Angry at her, angry at him, and most of all, angry at myself for constantly standing by and letting them have everything I wanted.

I avoided her calls, stopped texting back right away, and made excuses when she asked if I wanted to hang out. I found myself making plans to be somewhere, anywhere, but with her. And when she did manage to drag me somewhere, I was quiet. I’d say as little as possible, smile only when necessary, and just... disappear into the background.

It was easier that way. Less painful.

I started isolating myself. Avoiding her meant avoiding Caleb. And avoiding Caleb meant less of the painful, gnawing feeling that clawed at my chest every time I saw them together.

The worst part was that she didn’t notice. She never did.

She was so used to being the centre of attention, so used to everyone loving her, that the subtle shift in our dynamic went completely unnoticed. She never realised that the space between us had grown wider, that my silence wasn’t just me being distant—it was me retreating from a world I no longer wanted to be part of.

It was suffocating. 

I couldn’t let her see. I couldn’t let anyone see how much it hurt. Because if I did, they’d know the ugly truth. That I wasn’t just a background character in their story. I wasn’t just plain.

I was jealous. And envy had become my constant companion, my closest friend.

And I wasn’t sure how to let go of it.

–

Caleb’s graduation was the moment I had been dreading and expecting all at once. The school gymnasium was decorated with streamers and balloons, the air was filled with pride and excitement. The graduating class stood at the front, Caleb among them, ready to speak as the valedictorian. He had earned the title, of course—everyone expected it.

As he stood at the podium, his easy smile and effortless charm seemed to fill the room, the crowd hanging on every word he spoke. I watched from my seat in the crowd, alongside her, face beaming with pride. So much for distancing myself. She was proud of him, and so was I, in a way. After all, he was her best friend, the boy who had been part of her life for as long as I could remember.

Caleb’s speech was inspiring, warm, and heartfelt. He spoke about friendships, dreams, and the future, words that made everyone in the room feel like they were part of something bigger than themselves. When he finished, the crowd erupted in applause, and she was already up from her seat, rushing toward him.

My eyes followed her, knowing exactly what would happen next. She was always there for him, and he, in turn, was always there for her. The bond between them was undeniable, visible to everyone. They had been friends for years, but sometimes, it felt like more than just friendship. I couldn’t help but feel like an outsider, a silent witness to the connection they shared.

And then, it happened. She reached Caleb, her smile wide, and before anyone could say anything, she leaned up to kiss him on the cheek. The crowd cheered, and Caleb smiled in return, a look of fondness in his eyes. It wasn’t anything new. It wasn’t anything special—at least, not for them.

But for me, it was like a dagger in my chest.

I wasn’t jealous. I am not jealous.

I told myself it should’ve been fine. I had walked with them before, watched them interact, and laughed at their jokes, but this moment? This one was different. This one hit harder than I was prepared for. The way they looked at each other, the ease in their gestures—it was a reminder of something I’d never be a part of.

When Caleb pulled away from her, his eyes scanned the room. I could feel his gaze, and for a brief moment, our eyes met. But unlike the usual moments when he would smile, wave, or make some casual comment, this time, he simply looked away, his attention already drifting toward someone else.

No acknowledgement. No wave. Nothing.

I swallowed hard, fighting back the sudden wave of emotion. It should’ve been normal. He was just being Caleb. Kind, friendly, the same as always. But in that moment, the silence felt like a slap.

She was glowing from the attention she got from him and turned back toward me with a smile. I couldn’t bring myself to return it. I just looked at her, at the way she was so comfortable with him, and the heaviness in my chest made it harder to breathe.

I wasn’t part of their world. And deep down, I knew that was never going to change.

I stood up from my seat, moving slowly, hoping to blend into the crowd. My heart pounded in my chest, not from excitement, but from the sharp sting of realising that no matter how many times I told myself it didn’t matter, it did.

I had no place in their story. They didn’t need me. I was always going to be a side note in the narrative that was unfolding before me. The quiet, unnoticed figure in the back of the room while they moved on to bigger things.

And I would remain there, in the background, just like I always had.

Forever. Always. Unnoticed.

[harlotistic-side]

source: trust me, sis

cw. fempov, older sister!caleb, genderbent, nsfw, dead dove, incest, wlw, mild exhibitionism, nipple/breast play, edging, use of meimei/jiejie, kind of fluff (?), no plot tbh, tba

a/n: a short fem!caleb drabble dedicated to @indierokkers2005 as a belated fic(?) gift!! hope you like it ♡

"what about this one?"

you turned to face your jiejie, dress pressed against your chest. she had always told you that you looked good in this colour. but to your disappointment and no surprise, she was being hit on. again. you sighed letting your dress hang by your side limply as you waited. this was too common of an occurrence to actually bother you.

after all, you were pretty sure Caleb absorbed all the good genes in mom's womb and left nothing behind for you. with soft purple puppy eyes that could soften the most hardened of veterans, dark hair that fell over her eyes and below her ears just right, and a cheeky smile that left everyone around her breathless and star struck. and most importantly the biggest rack you had ever seen because of course she had to absorb that gene too.

Caleb was giving the guy a hard time. not unusual. her face was an awkward mash between a grimace and a polite smile as she spoke. rejecting him like she did so many others. made you wonder if she even liked men. this guy was pretty cute too. and as usual, he barely even glanced your way before turning on his heel and leaving. Caleb sighed in annoyance before turning to face you again. immediately the irritation in her eyes dissipated. replaced with the most affectionate glimmer as she walked up to you.

"sorry pips, this is getting annoying isn't it? anyway, ignore that. let me see the dress!"

Caleb's smile and energy was infectious as always. it was evident from the way a smile of your own began to tug at your lips.

"should i try this? i don't know if it'll suit me."

you tell her honestly, a small pout on your face as you pressed the dress to your chest once more. Caleb tilted her head, pinching her chin between her forefingers in thought.

"hmm the colour is pretty nice but to be sure, you should try it on pips. it never hurts to."

she says, nudging you in the direction of the dressing rooms. and if course she follows inside. it has been a habit you both shared growing up. makes the process easier anyway. she'd help you with your zipper and you'd help her with hers. but today something was bothering you more than usual as she stood behind you, tugging the zipper of your dress up after you put it on. even in the mirror when you were in front of her, the lights and focus of the room seem to fall just right on her. like her very own dazzlingly bright spotlight.

maybe this had been a long time coming. you loved your jiejie. truly, you did. but walking around with an angel who's halo seemed to just get brighter the more she grew got old quick. so quick that envy had began to rear it's ugly head from the edge of six. when Caleb had managed to get away with stealing sweets from the counter just by flashing her usual puppy eyes and pout when you literally got berated in her place for making her steal for you. because of course, that's the natural conclusion the shopkeeper would come to. Caleb was an angel. one who could do no wrong.

that guy from earlier today was every bit your type. sharp jaw, pretty eyes, and a nice lean build that flexed perfectly when he moved. you would have been all over that in a heartbeat. but alas, god had favourites and it sure as hell wasn't you.

"jie, why'd you reject the guy just now?"

you find yourself asking her as she adjusted the dress on you. oblivious to the way her hands seemed to trail over the swells of your curves and dips in the guise of making it look neater.

"hm? oh. that guy? he's pretty average. nothing interesting."

she murmured distractedly. you stifled an eye roll. of course Caleb thinks so. she had all the men in the world bowing at her feet. her usual response added with the fact that she sounded so distracted by the fact that she might have rejected the next top male model was beginning to grate at your nerves.

"seriously? average? he was so hot though!"

your jie's hand paused at your waist, leaning her chin on your shoulder as she met your gaze in the mirror.

"why? you like him or something?"

her purple eyes were intense, her breath hot against your ears. as intense as the time a guy made you cry by asking for her number after you confessed to him (moreso at the fact that you confessed to him but you didn't have to know that).

"well duh?! have you seen him?"

you exclaimed, brows furrowing all cute. her jaw tightened and she let out a dry chuckle.

"come on, pips. you can do so much better than that."

she says, rolling your eyes after one final smooth of the sides of your dress.

"easy for you to say. you're literally a model with the prettiest tits ever."

you groan, turning to face her. she leaned back, arms crossed as her eyes trailed down your figure.

"i can help you with that y'know. it's quite easy, really."

you blinked, meeting her violet gaze with your own much intrigued and at the same time a little confused ones. you missed the way her eyes glinted, tongue darting out to wet her lips before the intense expression dissolved into her usual cocky smirk. she really was a vision. no wonder people keep begging you for a chance. to date her. that smirk was the final nail in the coffin really. the coffin containing your hopes and dreams of not dying single and alone.

"are you serious? i swear jie, if you're-"

your words stuttered as Caleb stalked closer. she leaned down, tits hanging in your gradually warming face as she whispered against your ears.

"i'll show you, pips. right now. but you gotta promise not to make a sound, hm?"

she gently but firmly turned you around to face the mirror, squishing your jaw with one slender perfectly manicured hand. you could feel the ridges of the cute apple charms you insisted she get to match with you press against your skin.

"your tits are perfect, meimei. look at them."

without having to lift a hand, she made the fabric of your dress slowly glide up the front of your thighs, up your midriff, and eventually bunched just beneath your chin. her free hand that wasn't holding onto your cheek began to caress the smooth satin of your bra. letting the warmth of her hands seep through as she massaged them. her fingers kept grazing the small bow between the cups, teasing it as she hooked her pinky through and tugged at it to let your warmed stiffening nipples rub deliciously against the fabric.

"so cute. all perked up for your jie. means the blood flow's stimulated. good for...cell growth? my doctor friend told me."

she mumbled distractedly, swallowing from how cute your nipples looked. she uncupped your face and began massaging your tits with a focused face. bottom lip bit between her teeth as you began to let out small noises.

"feels weird, huh? means it's working."

she cooes, continuing to massage your tits. she clipped your nipples between her fingers tugging on them just enough to make you keen out a soft whine, bucking your chest against her hands. the dull edge of her nails and charms sent sharp shivers down your spine. you could feel warmth beginning to pool in your lower tummy, curve of your ass pressed perfectly against her waist.

"jie...f-feels too good. you...gotta ngh..stop..."

you whine, head leaned back against her shoulders. instinctively trying to push her away as your nipples began to feel almost raw from the tugging and pinching. all you could see through your squinted fuzzing vision was the coy smirk on her full pretty lips. she kissed you softly on your forehead, pressing her nose in your hair as she shushed you.

"this is good for you, mei. trust me. just gotta be a little quieter hm?"

the wave of tingles made you twitch and squirm as you tried to get her to stop. not because it wasn't good but moreso because you wouldn't be able to face the boutique workers after making a fool of yourself with all your pathetic noises. the spring coiled in your lower belly growing tighter and tighter. you could feel the dripping arousal on your inner thighs cooling to a sticky mess from the mix of air conditioning in the boutique dressing room and the warmth of your heated skin.

she was being mean. she knew she was. but she just couldn't resist the way you squirmed and looked at her with those cute eyes. pursing your lips just to rein the desperate needy little sounds in. she could feel you arching against her, thighs shaky from how good it felt to have her bullying your tits (maybe even the thrill of being caught having your tits groped by your older sister). and then as soon as you could feel the familiar wave of a high begin to wash over you, she stopped. that cocky stupidly pretty grin of hers branded on her face. you scowled, panting as you shoved her weakly.

"you're awful, jie. the worst."

you huffed in deep frustration as she backed away. she chuckles, letting her nails flick against your raw puffy nipples as she tugged your bra back up. the warmth you were leaning against disappeared and you could feel the gravity change abruptly as she ceased her evol and let your dress fall back into place.

"come on, pips. let's go get some food after we buy you this dress. gotta eat healthy to get those girls all pretty like your jie's."

your scowl deepened and her heart clenched at how cute that pout on your lips was. she poked your cheek painfully, laughing as you snapped your teeth at her fingers.

"so feisty. you were the one who told me to stop, y'know."

she says, pulling you against her side with an easy casualness that belied the fact that she had been playing with your tits to the point of an almost orgasm in a dressing room of a high end boutique. as if the evidence of your little massage session wasn't threatening to stain the inner linings of the dress you still had on with the tags and all.

"oh it's so on, jie. i'm gonna get back at you for this."

and all Caleb did was grin at you. that stupidly annoying, stunning grin of hers. one that indicated how she looked forward to your little 'payback'.

[harlotistic-side]

journey to salvation

cw. fem pov, dad!Leon, nsfw, dead dove, physical abuse, non con, mild piss, incest, blasphemous themes, cult, forced intoxication, violence, mild choking, misogyny, alcoholism, depression, suicidal ideation, major daddy issues, breeding threats, not proofread, bad writing towards the end, tba

the alcoholism to finding god pipeline was not exactly uncommon. it's happened a million times before and it happened to him. Leon S Kennedy. the same Leon who has open tabs in every alcohol serving place across the globe. in a way, it makes him feel whole. a semblance of a calm and picket fence like life that he'd dream up back before the whole thing in raccoon. and whatever he got dragged into after.

shit, he tried everything really. sleeping around with anyone who looks for a good face value fuck (he wasn't really the most silver tongued...at least when it came to words). getting hitched to some girl who sorta resembled a trauma bonded situationship he never fully got over.

hell he even had a kid! a whole daughter for fucks' sake. but nothing fucking worked. nothing at all. until he lost himself in the bottle. god that worked like a charm. the routine of sharp burns down his throat, the haze that took all the edge off, and the part where he forgets. brain and liver going through simultaneous cirrhosis.

but much like the shit that was his life, it's gotta flush out somehow. blocking out these...thoughts and memories made the anger stretch and taut the way a rubber band would. stretching and stretching each time his wife picked a fight about him missing appointments, missing milestones in his daughter's life, and just being missing most of the goddamn time. and then in a particularly escalated screaming match, he had slapped her.

the sharp sting in his palm feeling like a pail of ice had been poured down the back of his dso assigned t-shirt, fresh after a mission. the guilt made his own hazy unfocused eyes water and the sight of his young daughter by the door just standing there, watching with fat droplets of tears running down her cheeks, increased it tenfold.

so he stopped. went cold turkey and stopped even looking at those bottles. hell, he even threw away his favourite hip flask. and then he enrolled in a religious alcohol group therapy. not by choice. some pal of his told him that the group helped. he wasn't the biggest fan of god and his works. he's seen em all, really and they were anything but fluffy pink unicorns shitting rainbows out of their asses. it was...hell. not that he believed in that either.

but something about being around people again. the feeling of togetherness without anybody knowing the weight of the blood and lives he dredged around with him in every step. no judgement, no pity, nothing. he remembered his first day, stepping into church after last having stared into the cold pale stone eyes of christ just hanging in front of everyone and getting a nightmare when he was 10. he had thought to himself, has it really been 20 years?

he took a seat on one of the chairs in the circle. it was the cushioned kind. the ones that made the aches from one too many falls lighten just a little. he flicked his hair out of his eyes. a habit from making sure dust and whatever weird gunk didn't blind him on missions. he was too early. he felt a prickle of self consciousness. he looked too eager and damn it if it's not the most sissy thing to do.

and then the people started streaming in, all bright smiles with light in their eyes — he had to be in the wrong fucking meeting. he was supposed to attend alcoholics' recovery not some supposedly enlightening bible study group. but against the discomfort that began to settle in the lower pits of his stomach, he stayed.

fast forward to now and it has been 10 years. who knew Leon S Kennedy had it in him to attend church alcoholics' recovery and Sunday masses and even prayed on a regular basis now? it sure as hell wasn't him. sure nightmares still kept him up and the urge to just down a whole bottle and complete the process of cirrhosis to give a merciful death to his liver never weakened, but he was a better man now. the church says good men have to be righteous. avoid sin. ask god to forgive and have mercy on their souls. in due time, things would ease up. now Leon knew these words were just words of empty hope. none of it was true. he used to repeat that with conviction in his heart.

until he didn't.

maybe it was the way the leader spoke with unwavering conviction or the way it was more of a sermon instead of an anonymous confession or the words that all seemed to blur into a comforting haze of light after a while. he felt lighter. life had meaning again he'd begin to say, a smile on his lips as he chugged the rest of the cooler water that everyone was given a cup off. each time he goes to the church, all of his desires began to melt away. he was at peace. so much so that he began going to church as soon as he was off missions, sharing cups of cooler water with his peers and the leader who seemed to know just what to say to soothe the troubles in his mind. he never wanted to leave. and sometimes, be didn't.

except, his stupid ex-wife started calling again. saying how he was starting to be late on child support. that she couldn't manage to fund you all on her own with her current earnings. that college was becoming too expensive and that the least he could do was house you for abit to make up for lost time and so that you wouldn't be too lonely at home. at least until she sorted things out with her company and the 6 month long overseas exchange that would guarantee her salary increment.

god gives his most arduous trials to his best of men. Leon just mumbled out a quick sure and ended it. her babbling was going to make him late for church. he had to hand the suitcase full of cash to the leader as a sincere donation so that he can stay for all of their sermons and eventual programme to become one of the higher ranking members.

truth be told, for a second there, he damn near forgot he even had a daughter. church had become his entire life. his purpose. his...people. blood ties weren't enough to keep him going. only church was enough. he ignored the multiple other texts from work asking him where he was. they could find someone else to deal with humanity's work. he was a man of god now, blessed with the opportunity to spread the word of truth. to be back as they were in the olden days. where everything was perfect. where everybody had roles and purposes.

so he gritted his teeth and bared a grimace like smile when you came.

"hey kid. long time no see, huh?"

he says, hands in the pocket of his worn denim jeans. you were practically a stranger. more height than he remembered. when you met his gaze with those really really blank ones, he felt himself a little unnerved. it brought up an image of you crying when he first slapped his ex-wife. how long has it really been? well doesn't really matter. you were no longer a little girl anyway.

it was a long pause. a very awkward one. he shifted a little from one foot to the other as your eyes studied him. it has been a long time. his hair was a little longer, face a little scruffier, but that was your old man alright. the very same eyes you sometimes have nightmares about. the gunmetal blue, cold and filled with a bottomless rage. and you were...taller. softer in places and your hair's...different. he found himself feeling like he was looking at a stranger, unaware that both of you were frowning just like the other.

you were one of many regrets he had. but after church and his enlightenment, his only regret was not being able to put you in church school. maybe then you wouldn't be standing around as soon as you arrive and actually get to doing something around his house. women's roles were in the house. caretakers. while he went out to spread god's word. he stepped aside to let you walk inside, not missing the way your reaction to a dusty seemingly long unused house was a mere flicker of disdain that flitted as soon as it appeared.

"you can take the guest room. settle everything down and get ready. we're going to church."

he says, adjusting the cuffs of his button up as he sat on the couch. he tapped his loafered foot impatienly against the tiles, eyes constantly glancing at the time. 20 minutes passed and he was growing restless. his hair was beginning to fall all wrong from the amount of times he's ran his fingers through them. what was taking you so fucking long anyway? did you not understand the importance of church? how dare you a pathetic girl make god wait? make the leader wait on his important sincere donation? you were gonna regret it when he finally stands up and — the door of the guest room creaked open.

"i'm not going to church, dad. i'm still tired from the trip."

he found his jaw twitching at your brazen nature. walking around as if making the leader wait wasn't going to backfire in his face. but god says patience is virtue so he won't give you shit for it. he was a merciful man after all.

"you better not be saying that just to skip out on church, young lady."

he says with restrained annoyance, jaw tightening as he grabbed his briefcase and headed out. you don't remember dad being religious. but then again, you barely knew the man. most of your childhood was buried under lock and key in the back of your mind. but being around him made you uneasy. even more so now. but this was a temporary arrangement. maybe you should see to doing something more relaxing like giving yourself a breather since it was the summer holidays. maybe just rot away in this room until it was time to leave again.

he came home from church late into the night. gunmetal blue eyes hardening as he watched you eat late night cereal at the kitchen table. you looked up mid chew, meeting his gaze. he tched and walk away. you swore he mumbled something like lazy under his breath. your appetite began to fizzle. what was this man's deal anyway?

he was barely home and honestly the only complaint you had was the lack of any food around. so you decided to take matters into your own hand and headed out to get some. like a good responsible grown adult would. and when you got home he was sitting at the table, eyes narrowed as he scanned you up and down.

"where were you?"

it sounded so accusatory. as if he already had a preconceived notion of where you went. maybe it really didn't help that you went to the store in your usual ripped jeans and tanktop.

"i went to the store, dad. helping you restock the-"

he scoffed, leaning back in his chair and flicking his hair out of his eyes as he crossed his arms.

"dressed like that? like a slut? is this how your mom raised you?"

your grip on the grocery paperbag nearly loosened entirely. you found yourself staring at him with parted lips. a slut? seriously?

"i really should have taken custody of you and put you in church school. that way you wouldn't have grown up to be such a whore."

his words were dripping with venom as his eyes hardened even more.

"from now on until the day you leave, you're not allowed to leave this house. and you will pull your weight by performing your role as a grown woman."

you felt your skin prickle at his words. the way he said it. it all sounded so brazenly prejudiced...like he was reciting it straight off a conservative cultish script embedded in his mind. now you knew he was no saint. an ex alcoholic, an absent father, and the occasional wife beating on special occasions. but a misogynistic bastard? now that...that was something too new.

"you can't just lock me up like- like some hostage! i'm gonna be here for half a year!"

the speed at which he stood up with his hands raised just shy of your cheek made you sputter to a stop, flinching instantly. your eyes held a fear he recognised from that very night he had backhanded your mom. in hindsight, that woman deserved it. she forgot her place when talking to her husband. him. the breadwinner who worked tirelessly day after day to play his role as man of the house. the least she could have done after that was offer him a drink for being such a stupid useless bitch.

"stop backtalking me you ungrateful-"

you swore you heard his teeth crack from how hard he was clenching his teeth. his eyes were hollow and filled with such an intense rage that it made you cower away. oh he knew what a sheltered girl you were how your mom was a doting parent who cared about your wellbeing. so much so that she made you stay with him instead of living in a house all by yourself. no wonder you turned out this way. spoiled, ungrateful, and unreligious. a woman with no piety is no woman at all. that's what the leader had said.

and that was one week ago. you had been holed up in the house, the dim lighting and his constant disappearances to either work or the church was beginning to eat at your brain. him being at home wasn't much better. you had to cook for him, clean for him, iron his church clothes, and shine his shoes. in return all he did was criticise you. the food too salty, the shoes not shiny enough, the house still dusty, everything was never right.

you were beginning to see yourself from outside your body, throwing yourself into one task after another. his constant bullying was eroding your mind. and the fact that you weren't allowed to open the curtains, or watch tv in the living room, or had anybody to talk to really didn't help. and then you landed upon a gold mine. the lower left cupboard in his toilet that stored untouched bottles of liquour. just sitting and waiting. a trap of temptation he had been keeping in his house for god knew what.

as you sat on the toilet just holding the cold bottle, staring at it. you found yourself feeling an eerie sense of connection with your distant almost estranged father. you wondered how many nights he spent all by himself seated in the exact same way you were. just looking at the cold bottle of liquid sin in his hands.

you did what he stopped. broke that last barrier of restraint and spiralled down the way he just climbed up from. you uncorked the bottle and tipped it back, letting the liquid slosh down your throat and dribble down your chin. it burned. it burned so bad. you coughed and sputtered, eyes growing teary. it tasted like an internal chemical burn. a bitter tang that stung the insides of your throat. but the haze that settled over your mind after. the lightness that seemed to anchor your soul back into your body even for just a minute. you were instantly hooked.

like father, like daughter.

it was no wonder that old sod was hooked to this thing. it was liquid gold! i mean for the small price of a bad headache and the worst case of dry mouth the next day, you could just...melt into nothing. the world spins and you're in the middle just watching as everything blurs together into one meaningless nothing.

before you knew it, a week had passed with you passing out evrryday to make time go by quicker. the whiskey bottle was down to it's last dredges and you were laying on the cool tiled floors of the toilet again. shivering from the contrast of it against your liquor warmed skin. your eyes fluttered close and open and close and —

the loud sound of the front door slamming shut had you jolted to a sitting position. you'd recognise the dull thuds of his footsteps anywhere. except they were louder and way angrier than you had ever heard it. and then you stood on swaying legs, taking a look at yourself in the mirror. glassy red eyes, jaw slack with a little bit of drool and hair flat on the side where you had laid on the ground. your heart was beating so fast you could almost feel it on your tongue as panic washed over you. shit. shit.

you splashed cold water onto your face, rubbing it firmly to bring back a sense of sobriety. you swished the water aggressively in your mouth, narrowly avoiding choking on it. your drunken mind too panicked to realise that the smell of it was too deeply marinated in every crevice of your teeth and tongue.

your hands trembled as you plopped to the ground unceremoniously, grasping at the bottle to cap it and hide it back in the cupboard. your shaky fingers loosened and the cap was sent flying near the tub. fuck. he was going to hit you. you just knew it. just like he did mom. and like he does in your nightmares that leave you in cold sweat. please god, if you're real. please please please let him go to bed and never find out — clang

the clatter of the rhick glass bottle tipping over onto the ceramic tiles sent shockwaves of deafening echoes that made your ears ring in your tunnel visioned panic. you heard his footsteps freeze before they stormed towards where you were. you felt your breath hitch as you hurriedly pressed the bottle against your back and leaned against the side of the tub. as if it would just dissolve into your skin and never be found. the doorknob rattled as he pounded on the door.

"what the hell are you doing in there, kid?"

then as you stayed quiet like a rabbit frozen in fear, it became more insistent. more agitated.

"answer me or i'll break this damned door!"

you finally found your voice in a small squeak that escaped your throat.

"j-just a stomach ache dad! i-i'll be out in a bit i promise!"

the banging stopped and it was so silent you could hear your heartbeat reverberate against the smooth white of the tub behind you. it was bullshit and if drunk you could smell it, so could your retired military agent dad.

"you lying bitch. do you think i'm stupid?"

you could practically hear the snarl in his voice and after a beat, hr said something. something that you should have listened to. something that to this day you wondered if it would have changed anything has you heeded his words.

"open this fucking door now or you're gonna regret it."

he yelled. and then it was quiet. so quiet. and then he kicked the door so loud you heard the hinges creak.

"oh you're going to be fucking sorry, kid."

he said in an eerily calm voice and then his footsteps faded as he yelled a loud 'fuck'. followed by the clatter of something being kicked to the ground. you pinched yourself. so hard you felt the sting shoot down your spine. this had to be a nightmare. you had to wake up. you had to get out.

before your panic and alcohol scrambled brain could figure out the next course of action the footsteps returned and in a blink of an eye the door was sent splintering to the floor, revealing a man with crazed bloodshot eyes and a heaving chest beneath his sweat stained button up. his sharp features that brought you praise for winning genetically was now shadowed by his overgrown hair. he held a bag of clinking bottles in one hand. bottles of...liquor.

one look at you and he knew. he could recognise that dazed look anywhere even beneath the thickest layers of fear. and that smell. the sharp sweet and sour of an impending drymouth after drinking alot. for a moment the humid silence in the bathroom was filled with nothing but heavy breaths. father and daughter looking at each other. two mirrors reflecting the very demons they feared.

"you disgust me."

his low raspy voice was pointed as he stepped closer, larger hands yanking your hair just shy of smacking the back against the edge of the tub. sounding like he was talking to the him that was trapped like a wet dog. one that was clinging onto the bottle like a solace teddy a child would have in their bed.

"you think you can lie to me? and commit this disgusting sin without me ever finding out, huh?!"

he grabbed one of the bottles from the plastic bag, unscrewing the lid with the same hand.

"now drink. drink as much. as. you. fucking. want."

he says through gritted teeth, squeezing your jaw open as he poured the liquid down your throat. your yelp turned into spluttering gasps as the liquid went everywhere. some even up your nose and stinging at your eyes. your fingers desperately push at him. wherever you could land on but he stood firm. years of training and muscle despite the recent years of slack and armed with a rage so deep held him rock steady.

one whole entire bottle. your vision began to fuzz as you choked and cough. your head was spinning, barely registering anything at all besides the blue of his eyes that seemed to float before you.

"da...ddy...cough...m'sorry...m'so sorry..."

you sputtered pathetically between coughs as your throat tried to scramble back to normalcy. and for a moment he saw the same you. the reason behind his journey to seek god. his heart clenched as you blinked up at him with red teary eyes and snot dribbling down to your upper lip.

and then he sees you. the current you. the one that had costed him his place in church. next to the leader. next to god's best man.

his mind replayed the events from earlier today. how the sermon moved him as always. talks of how women were made for men and how everyone has their place in front of god. how addiction was sin. how god forgives. and then again on how women are nurturing creatures with big hearts and that they should realise their place is at home. especially not with a bottle because it was way worse to be an alcoholic mother than to be a deadbeat alcoholic father.

the old Leon would have thought this to be crazy. that the words were nothing more than prejudiced nonsense lumped together and stamped with a label of 'from god.' but the Leon now? the one who craves the cooler water gatherings and a feeling of belonging and to do nothing more than pour his entire wages as means of baring his soul and sincerity before the leader, he was nodding almost feverishly. because if god said so. if the leader, said so. it has to be true. truer than anything and everything that has ever been true.

if it weren't, his ex-wife wouldn't have left. his life wouldn't have been so dark and awful and devoid of the enlightening he had now. his legs bounced almost impatiently as he thought about the cooler water and standing next to the leader. how the leader always knew what to say to make everything better. how cool and refreshing the water was. the slight bitter tang to it that seemed to haunt his every waking moment.

he had rushed to the leader's side as soon as everything was over, holding his briefcase full of donation cash with a smile equivalent of a dog with its tongue our. waiting to be petted for a job well done.

"ah, brother kennedy. this must be this month's donation to the cause."

the leader spoke. his beady eyes turning into slits as he grinned with his perfect white teeth. he was a broad man with thinning hair and a shorter stature than Leon. but his presence, it made it so clear why god had chosen him to lead. Leon's fingers tightened on the handle of the suitcase. waiting for the leader's blessing words and for the briefcase to be taken. freeing him from worldly sin and cleansing his soul with the money given. but his hopes were kept afloat in the oddly tense air.

"i heard from the churchgoers that your daughter is back in town. is that true?"

his words sent a chill down his spine. well, not really the words but rather how...it was said. as if he had done something wrong and the leader was baiting him into a confession. Leon swallowed his nerves.

"yes, leader. she's staying over for a while. is there something wrong?"

please say no. please say no. please —

"why have we not seen our new sister here?"

the leader asks in a way that sounded annoyed. impatient. Leon blinked.

"she's been taking care of the house."

she's not religious. she wouldn't get what we have here. too stupid and corrupted by modern day ideations to grasp true enlightenment. the leader smiles. a smile that felt hollow.

"our brothers and sisters here have seen her in clothing that was...inappropriate for brethren of the church."

Leon missed the way the leader's eyes glinted as he spoke. as if he knew more than he let on. and wanted more than he let on. the leader shifted where he stood, adjusting the crotch of his slacks.

"bring her here, will you? i'm sure spreading god's grace is in your best interest unless...of course...you don't think so. and that you want to return to the dark life you lead and turn that disgusting glass bottle into your place of belief?"

Leon felt his heart sink to his bowels. maybe even fall straight out of his ass onto the cold church floor from the way he froze. one of the other churchgoers was about to hand Leon a cup of the cooler water when the leader stopped him by simply holding up his stubby hand.

"no need, brother. brother Kennedy here will not be joining us for our social gathering."

the churchgoer bowed and scurried off like a rat caught in the daytime. Leon felt his heart pound in his chest. a sense of hurt and isolation that ate and prickled at his skin. he had fucked up. big time. and the leader was angry. god help him.

"i'll bring her over as soon as i can, leader. please...you don't have to do this-"

the leader's smile vanished and he stepped closer.

"you will bring her tomorrow."

he declared with a finality in his voice. Leon nodded fervently, desperate for his approval. for his forgiveness. the leader turned away and began to walk off. he paused and turned to face Leon with a barely stifled smirk.

"oh and kennedy? don't bother coming if she's not with you."

don't bother coming...fuck. fuck. what was that supposed to mean? after everything he's done for the church? all the money he's given? all the times he helped stand in front of the leader's door to guard it and make sure the incident of a church sister running out crying wold for help and rejecting the leader's blessing ever happened again. all of it was for nothing. his blood ran cold. even colder at the thought of never socialising with the others again. never tasting that bitter tang of the cooler water that always seemed to make his nightmares go away when he slept.

he was distraught.

he came home slamming the front door behind him. he ran his fingers through his hair, flicking it out of his eyes as he panted. cold swsat began to soak through the front and back of his shirt as the reality of it began to sink in. no more god. no more church. no more leader. no more cooler water. oh no. no no no. this cannot be happening. not when he had been doing so good.

he marched straight to his room without another word, shoes and coat flung haphazardly for you to clean up after. his throat felt dry and for the first time in a while, the urge to drink was no longer a lingering temptation at the back of his mind. his whole brain was set off like an alarm bell telling him to just give in. get a bottle and drink himself stupid. and then he heard it. the familiar clang of a glass bottle against the toilet floor. one he had heard years back when he was drinking himself to death in the very same place after a mission went sideways. and then he remembered you. and everything fell into place.

you bitch. you were drinking, weren't you?

and now he stared into the face of his key to the church. the key to his redemption and acceptance back by the leader. a face so pathetic and sticky with tears and drying cheap alcohol. god he was so made he wanted to just bash your fucking head into the side of the tub. stupid fucking bitch. stupid like your mother. how dare you sit here like a bum, drinking and sinning while he was out there fighting to be enlightened? to be a man of god? he found his fingers curling around the column of your throat, hissing as your nails dug into the skin of his scarred hands as you tried to breathe. the stench of liquour and your existence covered everything in a red haze.

you are out of control. a wild thing that needs to be disciplined before you could join as brethren of the church. and who else better to discipline you than your own enlightened churchgoing father?

"you shouldn't be apologising to me. you should be apologising to god. start praying or i'll make you regret each drop of that damned thing you so stupidly poured down your fucking throat."

he spat, hauling you up and bending you over the side of the tub. the cold hard edge dug into the flesh of your stomach, making the nausea worse. and prayed you did, hands clasped together with your voice trembling and barely coherent. slurring out prayers for for forgiveness. your tears and drool dripped and splattered in unsynchronised rhythms into the inner surface of the tub, your auditory field tunneled so much to the point of missing the metal clink of a buckle being undone.

"i'm sorry god. please i'm so sorry. i swear i'll never drink again. i- ack-!"

your voice splintered into a choked gasp as a sharp sting hit the curve of your ass. you unclasped your hands instinctively trying to defend your sore skin when your hair was yanked back firmly.

"did i say you could stop?"

he whispered, breath hot against your ears. you hurriedly scrambled to keep praying, jolting each time the leather hit. you could barely breathe. breaths coming in short gasps as the pain and dizziness and crying began to overwhelm you. your vision began to darken around the edges.

and then it stopped. not your prayers but the beatings. your heart was pounding so hard you thought you were going to die. hiccupping and gasping for breath as you tried to pray through it all. your desperate and hoarse voice mixed with his panting were the only sounds in that bathroom. the silence made you tremble even more, clasping your hands tighter as you prayed feverishly like a woman possessed.

Leon stared at you. his drunk beat up daughter who's skin was beginning to welt. he was panting, calloused fingers raised to trace the ones visible and gliding over the ones beneath your clothes. the power of beating you into submission. cleansing you of sin. it was...a high. one comparable to drinking or feeling that cooler water slide down his throat and left his brain at peace. as if he was walking on clouds. your curves wiggled and swayed as you prayed desperately. begging for salvation. begging for god to save you from the monster he had become.

but god had enlightened him. and that gave him every right to fix you. make you ready for the leader to bless. his jaw ticked and his finger trembled. a withdrawal of some kind. this was what being away from church did to him. he needed to be called brother kennedy again. needed the approval from the leader. he needed whatever was in that cooler water.

he needed...you.

so he finds himself lifting you, bending you in half as your body clipped the side of the tub's edge. he bunched up the hem of your dress. an old one your mom had given you. one that she had worn before. your marred skin was soft beneath his touch, you whimpered and squirmed. you really did take after your mother. maybe you could be a fillial daughter and play the role of wife too. it's the least you could do to atone for everything you've done.

the rough fabric of his slacks against your bare ass, stung. you could feel the stiffness of his cock as he rubbed it awkwardly against your panties. your legs were split like a foal learning to walk for the first time.

"do you feel that, kid? feel what sin does to an enlightened man like your dad?"

you were too tired to care. too focused on taking your next breath without feeling like a million nerves were combusting beneath your skin. he held you down, edge of the tub digging much deeper, you could've sworn it made your ribcage creak.

"promise...i won't tell anyone...please dad...just stop..."

you slurred weakly (or at least you thought you did because all Leon heard was a bunch of groans and the word dad) eyelashes fluttering as your face smushed into the cold tub floor. bent in half as you were trying to breathe was the worst experience you ever had. you tried to push yourself up. to push against him and stumble free. but even as your knuckles whitened with effort, he was too strong. his palms pressed your head into the ceramic as his other tugged at his slacks. all you did was keep pressing the tub's edge harder against

"don't worry. i'll make sure you're ready for church, hm? perfect vessel to receive the leader's blessings. you'll learn to thank me."

he muttered under his breath as he struggled to shimmy down his boxers.

"huh would you look at that? you pissed yourself, kid."

the tub's edge had been pressing against your womb from the way he was holding you down with his sweat soaked front on your back, squishing it so firmly you were sure it would go concave. the numbing cold and firmness made your pussy drip. it was pressing on everything tender. your liquour filled bladder had surrendered to fear in your fevered repenting, a pool of warm acrid smelling liquid seeping into the soles of your feet. he laughed humourlessly at his deadpan, pressing his fingers into your sopping wet hole.

he tugged your soaked panties down, stroking the soft of your bruised cheeks before kneading them. fingers squeezing and pushing at the welts. the painful numbness made you groan. he began spreading it, spitting on his fingers before he harshly prodded at your slick hole.

"well makes this easier for the both of us, hm?"

he gave his cock a few strokes, eyebrows knitted as he rubbed the underside against the ridge of your ass. the warmth and slickness of your piss was making his head spin, soft schlick schlick sounds filling the humid bathroom. your head was beginning to hurt from being pushed down into the tub, hair pricking at your eyes. you let out more groans and whimpers. sounding even more urgent despite battling your consciousness.

"you lost the fight against the devil's evil temptations. but dad'll fix this. if he can fix his life, he can fix this. make you pure again so god will love you- mmf-"

he groaned as his leaky tip began to push into you. you barely put up a fight, just crying against the pool of your own tears that had gathered beneath your cheeks. he was going to fix you. fix this. fix everything like he had fixed his life up to this point. he gritted his teeth as he sank in deeper, the cool of your sweat glistened back against the buttoned front of his shirt. the plastic buttons dug into your skin, tugging it as he pushed in deeper. you had never felt so full and numbed at the same time.

he yanked your head up, licking the tears from your cheeks as he plowed into your piss slick hole. the wet thwapping noises seemed to make everything in your brain go blank. your body was sore, broken, and sensitive.

he grunted against your ear, stubble reddening your skin. he was breathing shakily as he buried himself deep. his dirty little girl needed his guidance. his help. his...blessing. it made his cock twitch at the thought of purifying the source of lust within you. your bare womb. filling it up to keep you from sinning again. fulfilling your purpose as a woman placed on earth by god. making you a sweet docile mommy wwith nurturing tendencies. just like god intended.

"you feel that, kid? your womb is begging to be filled. beging to fulfill god's written purpose for you."

he says as he yanked your head up with one hand while the other splsyed across your lower tummy. pushing you back onto his twitching dick in a relentless rhythm. you let out a pained grunt, hands scrambling to hold onto something for balance as he began to thrust faster.

his balls slapped against your sore ass with each thrust and all you could remember was slipping into a deep dark haze. your ears rung and everything around you faded. Leon tried tapping your face as your head hung limply from the hair clenched in his fingers but to no avail. he licked a stripe down the side of your neck and buried his teeth between your neck and shoulder as he came with a loud groan. his warm cum shot deep into you, swirling with your piss as he held you against his cock. he let go once he was done, watching as you fell to the ground and splashing up the piss from the puddle as you landed.

well...repenting was a messy business but now you were perfect. his perfect, church ready daughter. he ran his fingers through his hair to push back the strands stuck to his forehead from his sweat as a grin tugged at his lips. the front of his shirt was soaked in both your sweat and his heart was racing in his chest. you were ready.

—

"and leader, meet my daughter. she looks forward to receivinh your blessing. i made sure to prepare her myself."

his arm around your waist a tinge too tight, eyes eager for approval of a job well done. he searched the leader's beady eyes, watching as he studied you like fresh meat. the leader shifted his pants a little and licked his lips before acknowledging Leon again. barely.

"welcome back, brother kennedy."

the leader says, eyes glinting. Leon felt a wave of relief hit him full force, fingers trembling as he took the cup of cooler water from one of the brothers and chugged it down like a man parched in the desert seeing an oasis for the first time.

in his car, his phone dinged with a notification. one from the ame friend who recommended the alcoholic group therapy from all those years ago. a frantic jumble of words followed by a clipping of a document with the leader's face on it.

"Under investigation for bioterrorism involvement using slow acting newwater activated virus strain. Suspected intent of cult-forming and virus spreading."

[harlotistic-side]

first of all happy belated mika!! @vefjadrep hope you had a great birthday!!! 🎉🎉🎉🎉 and blythe...your brain is truly the most amazing thing ever 🤯 i will consume it actually tyvm.

i absolutely love the way you write reader's desperation to keep leon around and mixing the need for paternal validation with sexual validation like she is so fucked up!! (real) and leon kissing her after years of not showing up JUST TO BUST A FUCKING NUT AND LEAVE? actually ill 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫

(cut for spoilers +++ editing my fave parts in because i reread and was rewowed by the way you write)

my favourite parts were

His dick was a real romantic too...

(made me giggle out loud 😭)

You made a note to ask him for another kiss after this — one of those soft ones on the forehead you’d grown up watching your friends get...

(this whole entire paragraph. holy shit. this is so sad!!!!)

oh this makes me so sick. i had to hold myself back from highlighting your whole entire fic because this was just amazing. the way he's so annoying with his gentleness as he takes even more from a kid he's fucked up enough (in more ways than one) 👹 amazingly written as always ♡♡♡♡

you’re coming back (and it’s the end of the world) — leon kennedy x fem!reader

wc: 3.2k

cws: daddy-daughter incest, p in v, unprotected, leon is a deadbeat freak… virginity loss, angst, fingering, alcoholism

note: SUPER late bday drabble for the lovely @vefjadrep I ♡ YOU!! omg work schedule fucked up my posting but. wtv!! proofread but still a lil choppy… tagging @kcolrom :3

Birthdays have never felt quite right to you.

It’s not that your dad’s a total deadbeat. Honest. From cradle to college, he paid up your child support just fine. If he hadn’t, you wouldn’t have heard the end of it from mama — she’d kept you up more nights than you could remember ranting about him over the phone. You’d kept yourself up, sometimes — ear pressed to the door in some desperate attempt to learn more about him. And you learned plenty. Dad’s name was Leon, dad’s job was something you couldn’t spell yet, and dad’s favorite things to do were drink and hide. Like a dog. One of the stray types around your neighborhood that went around knocking up everything that ought to stay chaste. Dad never missed a child support payment but somehow managed to miss every single one of your birthdays. There was always an excuse. When you were little, it was something vague about his job scribbled in the corner of the occasional postcard he’d send. When the postcards stopped coming, it was something about liquor mumbled over the table during your birthday dinner. There’s still an empty chair in the back of your mind where dad should be, waiting for you to blow out the candles.

You didn’t like to dwell on the fact that other girls your age were watching their fathers grow old and cliché, so you tried to forget about your birthdays as soon as they passed. It got easier as you got older. With each passing year, your birthday became a little more unremarkable, so dad not showing up got a little easier to get over each time. This year, it’d taken three days to convince yourself that you were over it. Record time. Shit should’ve gotten you into the Olympics.

Until he decided to show up.

“Uh… happy birthday,” he said, clearing his throat and trailing your name a moment later like he was worried about pronouncing it wrong.

It’d been a month since your birthday, and dad had hungover written right between the eyes, but he was here. Right on your welcome mat, he was here. Realer than Jesus to a southerner. Close enough to count the lashes on his lids. You’d been tempted to, just because you could, but you didn’t — there were a million things that photograph on the mantle didn’t get quite right, and a million more it couldn’t begin to fathom. You’d forgotten to respond for a moment, transfixed on the way his Adam’s apple bobbed when he swallowed, before he cleared his throat again.

“My birthday was a month ago,” you admitted with that slow tone parents use to tell their kids the truth about Santa Claus. Didn’t work. The effect was immediate. He blinked, scratched the back of his neck, and looked around your doorstep for a moment like someone was coming to save him.

“Shit, really? Swear, I had it pulled up,” he muttered, fishing his phone from his pocket and clumsily swiping through his camera roll. You stood awkwardly in the doorway, heel tapping benignly against the step. His brow furrowed when he scrolled to a blurry image of your birth certificate — bringing the screen to his face and zooming in on your date of birth. You would’ve laughed at the way he scowled, if he hadn’t been your dad who just forgot your birthday.

“My bad, sweetheart… my memory must be going,” he said, grimacing as the clouds overhead parted — spilling sunshine at your feet. Leon looked out of place within it. Like a child’s scribble in the background of a landscape painting.

You nodded when he didn’t continue the sentence, clasping and unclasping your hands. “Well… it’s the thought that counts, right?” Stupid fucking sentence. You didn’t want to think about what mama would’ve done if she’d heard you make that excuse for him. You knew better, he knew better, and you’d both be better off closing the door and keeping it locked.

He agreed before you’d managed to picture her frown entirely, face lighting up like you’d offered to put him down. Maybe it was relieving to him, seeing a fraction of your mother extend the olive branch. Maybe reading into it too deeply was your way of coping. You nodded toward the open doorway before you could think twice about it, and when he stepped into your apartment, you swore you could hear mama sigh somewhere in the wind.

Dad sat rigid on your couch as the sun dipped beneath your windowsill. He’d been lax enough, at first — but after he’d asked you about school and your apartment and your grades and how mama was holding up, the air got a little too thick for talking. You’d switched on the television when the conversation slowed; he’d pretended to be invested. You could’ve called bullshit standing a mile away — nobody’s eyes glaze over like that when the subtitles are on. Nobody frowns like that to a fucking romcom. Dad probably thought you were stupid, if he cared enough to think of you at all. Fuck, awkward as he was, you wanted him to stay. You wanted him to sit pretty and tense on your couch forever. His eyes haphazardly darted to yours, flitting back to the television when you made eye contact. The way his face drained made you wonder if he’d learned to read minds while working for the government. You don’t believe in that sort of thing, but you still crossed your fingers when the thought crossed your mind.

But you knew he liked liquor. More than anything, you knew he liked liquor. Maybe he was fresh out — maybe you were his last resort. That should’ve sickened you. It didn’t. You reveled in the thought of dad needing you like you’d needed him, so you stood up after ten minutes of silence, digging out an unopened six-pack from the depths of your fridge and presenting him with the case.

“I’m alright. You don’t have to get anything for me. Thanks, sweetheart,” dad said, blinking for the first time in minutes. You sighed, arm still extended as you stepped back over.

“It’s not just for you,” you said. “I’m drinking, too.”

His brow furrowed for a moment — like he was trying to recall if you could legally follow through on that — but it raised again, soon enough, and he took the beer with a muttered thank-you.

Your hands stung as you pried the cap off, face crinkling as you took a sip. Shit was acidic. You wondered if it took effort to get addicted to this sort of thing. It’d take you more time than you’d care to spend just to tolerate the taste.

“Why’d you come to see me?”

He froze, dipping back the bottle to avoid your question for a second more. “Thought it was your birthday.”

“Yeah, but you’ve not… y’know,” you trailed off, hesitant to present him with his own mistakes. “You’ve not come to any of my other ones.”

“Fair enough.”

You waited for dad to say anything else. He didn’t. The insurance commercial humming in the background somehow became more captivating than anything you had to say. You huffed like your heart wasn’t sinking and shifted to face the wall. He didn’t react. You turned back.

“I just don’t get it,” you said, biting your tongue before what you really wanted to ask had a chance to fall out of your mouth. Wouldn’t have mattered either way. Dad had that look in his eyes again. Like he’d called up someone to come and save him, and they weren’t quite here yet.

“When you have a job like mine,” he started, tracing his index around the rim of the bottle, “You don’t get time off to come and eat cake. Just wanted to meet you at… some point.”

You nodded, feigning interest in the drink you’d taken two sips from. You didn’t ask him why he didn’t come and visit during all those times he’d wound up at the bar, but he seemed to hear it anyway — standing up and settling the bottle on the carpet. You straightened up, too, mouth opening before you knew quite what to say: “Where are you going?”

Dad pretended to smooth out the front of his shirt, clearing his throat. “Got an early assignment tomorrow.” Bullshit. You’d heard enough about his coworkers prying him from the bottle during office hours to know that he couldn’t have cared less about punctuality or assignments or whatever the hell else they did over there. You weren’t as stupid as he must’ve thought you were. A stupid girl would’ve confronted him right there and hoped the guilt was enough to glue him back to the couch — you knew better than that.

“Can I have a hug?”

You doubted that any amount of rehearsal could’ve made that sound natural. But something in your face must’ve looked natural enough, because his shoulders slumped a little by the time the words left your mouth. He paused for a moment, swallowing thickly and kneeling slightly before you. His arms opened in the same breath as yours. Felt like something you’d dream.

It really was supposed to be a kiss on the cheek. Honest. Hand over his daddy’s Bible. You had the same puppy eyes as your mama, same eyes that convinced him to forget the condom two decades ago. Least he could do was pretend to be the daddy you’d deserved for half a second. But you’d straightened up a little too far when he’d stood to leave, bumped the corner of your mouth right up against his lips when he went to peck your cheek. Turned into the sort of kiss he’d leave a one-night stand with before he left their line dead forever. Real romantic shit. His dick was a real romantic too, apparently, because he didn’t pull away, turning his head till your lips pressed up against his. His thoughts had gone cloddish with whatever incestuous curse you’d fermented in that beer can, because in that instant, you were the stranger you’d been two hours ago — he didn’t know you, you didn’t know him, and every curtain in the world was drawn.

Dad kissed you like he’d been starved of it — shit, he probably was. That blonde in your baby album was well-fucked. You could tell — dad used to be all bright eyes and baby fat. Time threw him through the gutter. You’d like to think that you wouldn’t have given him a second glance if you’d caught sight of him wasting alive in some dive. Mama always told you to stay away from the sort that can’t help themselves — everyone’s mama ought to, you thought. But she couldn’t, and you couldn’t either. You kissed dad back like oxygen was an afterthought. Like making love would make him love you. His fingers twitched when you tried to lace them with yours, hand flinching to retract as he broke it.

“Please stay,” you mumbled against his lips, breaths tangling with his in some subconscious effort to tie him down. The words are ripped from your throat before they feel natural to you, before your voice sounds like your own. “Stay here, this time.”

“Baby…” dad sighed, voice clipped. Restrained in a way you never wanted to hear from him again. “You know we can’t do this. I shouldn’t be here.”

“Nobody has to know, dad,” you started, reaching for his hand again. You’d said the line a little more seductively in your head, but somehow your voice fucked up in your throat and came out breathy and frantic instead. Dad probably thought you were something out of a Freudian case study. But if there was one thing you knew about men, it was that the quickest way to one’s head was his cock. Head, not heart — but you weren’t picky. You couldn’t afford to be picky when dad had one foot out the door. “The front door’s locked.”

You made sense of exactly what sort of man dad was when he turned his head to check — men who don’t want to fuck their daughters don’t have any reason to keep the door locked. Maybe it’d been on his mind since he’d stepped in. Maybe that’d been the real reason he’d stopped by. The thought wasn’t as revolting to you as it should’ve been. The least he could do for you now was think you were pretty.

Dad’s lips were on yours again before you had time to think of an answer. You made a note to ask him for another kiss after this — one of those soft ones on the forehead you’d grown up watching your friends get. No tongue. No erection against your thigh. No hands fumbling to bunch up your skirt and no fingers hooking under your panties and tugging them to the side.

You crossed your fingers out of his line of sight when he spread your thighs, praying that he couldn’t tell you were a virgin. God frowned upon you. You took his index just fine, but the second his middle finger shifted to scissor your hole open, your eyes scrunched closed and your breath trailed off into a hiss. Shit stung. Dad’s fingers weren’t thick, exactly, but they were thicker than yours. Thick enough to hurt. Thick enough to make you act on reflex.

“You alright, baby?”

Fuck, you hated that tone. Hated how often you heard it in your dreams. He was supposed to talk like that when you fell off your bike and scraped your knee. He was supposed to say that after you’d broken up with your first boyfriend in seventh grade. Stupid fucking thought. Maybe dad cock turned everyone into a sap. You straightened up against the cushions a little, nodding. “Yeah. M’fine.”

You tried not to react when his thumb trailed from your labia to your clit, circling languidly enough to piss you off. He must’ve read you then, too, because he laughed under his breath when your brow furrowed, rolling the tip of his thumb over the pearl.

“Been a while, sweetheart… go easy on me.”

And suddenly, you’re wetter than you’ve ever been in your goddamn life. Wet enough to see it on dad’s knuckles when he withdrew his hand, popping open the button of his jeans. God, at least he was hard. You would’ve killed yourself right there otherwise. All that just for his dick to go limp — but it wasn’t. It nudged his palm when he tugged down the fabric, pre beading at the tip. First dick you’d ever seen up close, attached to the first man you were never supposed to fuck.

You heard his breath hitch when you pulled the fabric of your top over your tits, cock visibly twitching in his hand. Spoke for itself. Dad was still dressed above you, fumbling through his jacket pocket for his wallet. Your eyes darted to the blanket folded over the couch cushion.

“Shit,” he muttered, thumbing through the contents of his wallet. “You got a condom?”

You shook your head fast enough to scramble your thoughts. “We don’t need one. It’ll be fine.” Sorry, mama.

“I don’t know about that, baby…” dad started, memories of your own conception rolling around to the forefront of his mind — until you huffed, unclipping your bra and sliding the straps down your shoulders. Fuck, you had nice tits. He’d gotten a lot better at pulling out, hadn’t he? Sure he had. You didn’t have any siblings scattered around that motel he’d spent half his thirties in. That he knew of. But you weren’t like those girls he’d slept with — you were his girl, and his girl was smart enough to manage her own apartment and pick up Plan B at the drugstore. Yeah, you’d be alright.

The stretch wasn’t as bad as you’d thought it’d be. Dad paused when he’d sheathed the tip in your cunt, shifting his hold on your hips. You were still in one piece. Fucked in the name of God, fucked in the eyes of the law, fucked in the record of any therapist worth their license — but his dick hadn’t managed to split you in half yet. Good enough. Your insides went syrupy when he groaned, sheathing his cock to the base before he could stop himself.

“Fuck… sorry, sweetheart,” he muttered, breathy and low enough to make your heart swell. You didn’t say anything — wide-eyed and breathless and full enough to make your head go fuzzy. Dad’s cock felt bigger than it looked, felt better than his hand, stuffed you nicer than your own fingers ever could. Christ, he’d forgotten what virgin cunt felt like — the way it clenched around his dick hard enough to cut circulation and throbbed for attention the second he pulled back.

“More,” you mumbled, head tilting forward as his fingernails left little divots down your waist, clit twitching each time it bumped up against dad’s abdomen. He’d softened up in the years since he’d sent you a picture with his postcards, padded around his stomach in that domestic way that makes dads look like dads. Fuck, you could be domestic with him. You’d fuck him all the time if he came home every day. “Please— fuck, more—“

He smiled when your thighs twitched, hips stuttering as he guided them, breaths rattling along your ribcage. “Feels good, huh?” dad chuckled, circling your clit with his thumb. “Didn’t think you’d like getting fucked this much.”

You nodded, eyes squeezing shut when he bottomed out again, teeth sinking into your bottom lip. “Only by you, dad, really— only by you,” you babbled like a broken alarm, slick shiny around the base of his dick. “Come back and fuck me again, won’t fuck anyone else, promise—“

Dad went rigid at that, balls tightening as he inhaled, coil snapping in the pit of his belly. Shit, that’s what made him cum now? Monogamy with his flesh and blood? Exclusive access to his daughter’s cunt? He pulled out fast enough to hurt your feelings, cumming down your lower tummy, eyes glassy and pupils blown as he gripped the fat of your hip. You smiled when he eased up, eyes darting around the living room for a tissue. Felt good to do something right. Felt better than sex to be taken care of.

“I love you…” you mumbled, eyelids drooping and cheek smushed against his shoulder. And you mean it. You think you do, at least. You’ve wanted to love dad since you found out you had one.

Dad patted your shoulder, suddenly tense in a way he prayed you couldn’t pick up on. (You did. Anyone could’ve.) “Love you, too.” It’s hollow and restrained in a way that nobody who really loves somebody is capable of producing.

If you could be who he wanted, you would. You’d change yourself in half a second. Turn your skin to glass and your blood to whiskey just to feel him kiss you for a second. But you stay yourself, and that’s enough to make him keep the door quiet on the way out.

[harlotistic-side]

TWO PIECES BACK TO BACK LIKE WE ARE BEING FEDDD!!! museypoo stans rise!!!! 🗣🗣🗣🗣🗣🗣🗣

bro...this is amazing lads yuri week ambassador right here. omg the way you describe him so prettyyyy ughhhh i feel crazy. pillow princess rafayel...come homeeee pleaseee the kids need you 😔❤️‍🩹

bro...i don't know if i want reader or rafayel more. like the way the dialogue is written made me feel things bruh. (and the woman who heard the moan was me i fear. fearing for my life cos is the toilet haunted?? that is scary.)

going to the gym with this in my head and internally giggling and kicking my feet. dead. i blame you (in the most positive connotation of the word blame) THANK YOU FOR FEEDING US♡♡♡

CW: 18+(mdni), wlw, fem!rafayel, exhibitionism, public play, nipple play, fingering, voyeurism (they got caught), usage of toy, overstimulation, squirting, light degradation, power play, mild humiliation. AN: pillow pwincess rafayel :3

Fem! Rafayel does her best to maintain composure as guests admire her work but it’s impossible to focus with the vibrator strapped to her clit. You watch her from across the room, eyes dark with amusement, one finger discreetly circling the remote. Each flick of your wrist sends a new wave of pleasure coursing through her.

Rafayel grips the edge of a champagne glass, manicured nails press into the delicate stem as a particularly sharp vibration makes her knees buckle. She barely catches herself, heat prickling her skin when the person before her raises a curious brow.

“Are you all right?”

She exhales shakily, masking it with a soft laugh. “Just a little lightheaded.”

You tilt your head, feigning curiosity as if you aren’t the reason for her breathless state. Then, you turn the setting higher.

Her back straightens. Her lips part just slightly, a moan nearly slipping before she swallows it down. Panic flickers in her eyes, but she barely regains control.

“If you’ll excuse me,” she murmurs, offering her guest a tight-lipped smile before stepping away.

The moment she reaches you, her body presses close, lips brushing against your ear as she whispers, voice raw with desperation, “I can’t take it anymore. Need to cum.”

You don’t give her a chance to steady herself. Gripping her wrist, you drag her into the female restroom, shoving open a stall and locking it behind you. The faint murmur of the exhibition lingers beyond the door, but in here, it’s just the two of you—just the sound of Rafayel’s ragged breathing and the relentless buzz between her legs.

“We have fifteen minutes,” you remind her, voice low and teasing as you press her against the cold metal. “Think you can be good for me in that time?”

She nods frantically, thighs trembling. “Please,” she breathes, barely above a whisper.

You hum, trailing a hand down her hip before suddenly gripping the hem of her dress and tugging it up around her waist. She gasps, eyes wide, but before she can protest, you reach up, sliding the hair clip from your bun and using it to pin the bunched fabric in place.

“Wouldn’t want you making a mess of your pretty dress,” you murmur, smirking as you admire the way she’s now completely exposed beneath you.

A shiver runs through her, and her face burning.

Your hand slides up her inner thigh, fingertips grazing the outline of the vibrator still strapped to her clit. “Still holding on?” you murmur, flicking the remote dial higher.

A sharp gasp catches in her throat as her knees buckle, her body jolting against you. She’s a mess—flushed, panting, gripping onto your arms like they’re the only thing keeping her upright.

“You’ve been like this all night, haven’t you?” you taunt, pressing a palm flat against her lower belly, feeling the way she tenses under your touch. “So desperate. So close.”

She whimpers, hips canting forward, seeking more. “Need it—need you.”

You smirk, dragging her panties aside, pressing two fingers against her soaked cunt. “Fifteen minutes,” you remind her again, curling them deep inside. “Let’s see if you can last that long.”

A choked moan escapes her lips, but you swallow it instantly, capturing her mouth in a heated kiss. She melts against you, her hands grasping at your shoulders as you fuck her with slow strokes, teasing the vibrator against her swollen clit. Every movement makes her tremble, her breath shaky against your lips.

Then, you decide to push her further.

Your free hand slides up, slipping beneath her dress, palming her breast through the thin fabric. She gasps softly, arching into your touch as you roll a hardened nipple between your fingers.

“So sensitive,” you murmur, amused as you pinch the stiff peak, tugging it just enough to make her body jolt. “I wonder how much more you can take.”

Rafayel squirms, a broken whimper escaping her lips. Between your fingers pumping inside her, the vibrator thrumming mercilessly against her clit, and the way you’re teasing her nipple—it’s unbearable. She’s completely overwhelmed.

Then the restroom door swings open.

She freezes.

The click of heels echoes against the tiled floor. You don’t stop. Instead, you deepen the kiss, muffling her sounds while your fingers twist her nipple and the remote turns the setting higher.

Rafayel’s entire body shudders, a silent plea in her wide, glassy eyes. She’s barely holding on, her thighs trembling violently.

The stranger lingers, footsteps pausing near the sink. You smirk against her lips, voice barely a whisper. “Be quiet for me, cutie.”

But it’s too much.

The relentless pleasure courses through her, forcing her chest to rise and fall in ragged, uneven breaths. You tug at her nipple again, rolling it between your fingers, and she lets out a sharp, desperate moan before she can stop herself.

It’s loud. Too loud.

The sound cuts through the restroom, raw and needy, echoing off the walls.

The faucet shuts off abruptly.

Rafayel’s eyes go wide in horror, her hand slapping over her mouth far too late. Her whole body seizes up, muscles locked, her chest heaving as silence stretches between you.

You barely contain your smirk, fingers still buried deep inside her, vibrator still pulsing against her swollen clit. “Uh-oh,” you whisper teasingly, lips grazing the shell of her ear. “Someone heard you.”

Outside, the stranger hesitates. A cough. Then, mercifully, the sound of retreating footsteps as they finally leave.

But you don’t let her relax.

The moment the door swings shut, you flick the vibrator up to its highest setting and twist her nipple hard.

Rafayel jolts, her whole body convulsing as a strangled gasp escapes her. It’s too much—the sharp pleasure rolling through her in waves, her thighs trembling as her breath shatters into broken, uneven gasps. Her nails dig into your arms, a silent plea for mercy.

You don’t give it to her.

Your fingers press deeper, teasing that perfect spot. Her body tightens, pleasure cresting too fast, too sharp—until she’s gone.

A broken whimper escapes her, her entire body seizing up as white-hot ecstasy crashes over her. The overstimulation is unbearable—her walls flutter around your fingers, her stomach tightening, every muscle locking in place.

Wetness spills out in hot, uncontrollable waves, drenching your hand, dripping past her thighs. Her release pulses through her in sharp, relentless bursts, leaving her trembling, barely able to hold herself up.

She clings to you, gasping, wrecked and overwhelmed, her legs barely able to hold her up. Tears prick the corners of her eyes, her body still trembling from the aftershocks, her breath uneven.

You hum in amusement, bringing your soaked fingers to your lips, tasting her slowly. “Messy girl,” you tease, licking them clean. “Good thing I pinned that dress up.”

Rafayel glares at you, cheeks burning, her body still trembling from the aftershocks. “You’re the worst,” she mutters, sulking as she presses her forehead against your shoulder, still trying to steady herself.

You chuckle, brushing a strand of hair from her face as you press a soft kiss to her temple. “No, I’m the best,” you correct, tilting her chin up so she has to look at you. Her eyes are hazy, lips still kiss-swollen, and you resist the urge to drag her back under right then and there.

“I’ll make it up to you at home,” you promise, brushing your glossy lips over hers but not quite kissing her. “After the event. No interruptions. Just you, me, and—” you smirk, “—maybe a few more surprises.”

“You better.”