kvnstwerk

[kvnstwerk]

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽What happens in the Captain’s office…☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

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author’s note: Hi! First RE writing, I hope you’ll like it! Chris is my biggest love, so of course the first writing is his(and there is not enough Chris writing out there!).

word count: 2,8k

pairing: Chris Redfield x fem!reader

warnings: SMUT(mdni!), enemies to lovers, office sex, protected sex, dirty talk, manhandling, powerplay, oral(fem receiving), alcohol, fighting and swearing.

summary: Chris hates the new recruit. Why? He doesn’t even know, until his friend makes his eyes open up. One morning, when he sees her, he decided to take matters into his own hands and show her not to mess with him.

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It was no secret that Captain Redfield hated the new recruit. Most would believe that he hated her because she wasn’t good enough, wasn’t cut for the job, or maybe she might have been a massive bitch. However, none of these could be said about (Y/N) (Y/L/N). She was good, cut for the job and a good person. So why did the Captain hate her so much?

Chris decided to pick up a bottle of liquor after work, so he could wallow in his apartment, surrounded by his own pity. He quickly shed his work clothes, took a shower and lounged on the couch with the bottle of whiskey. Every single thoughts of his were about her.

She quickly picked up his distaste towards her, so she became sassy and sharp-tongued towards him. Technically, the rule was to always respect your superior, but exceptions could always be made. As the weeks went by, their relationship intensified, especially when they got partnered up for training. Both of them were furious, and tried to change it, but the director didn’t let them. “Look, your strengths and weaknesses match up perfectly. And my decision is final.” That made both of them sigh in disappointment.

The hours went by and before they knew it, they were standing in the gym of the base. They were supposed to help each other out, but they decided to make it harder for each other. Chris was lifting heavy weights, and Y/N stood beside him, counting how much he lifted. It pretty much went like…

“One. Two. Two. Three. Four. Four. Four.”

Chris put the weight on it’s stand and scoffed at Y/N. “That’s not how you count, sweetheart.”

“It’s not my fault you don’t pull them down deep enough.” And that’s how the first of many arguments started.

Then, it was time to practice combat. They circled around in the ring like lions. They began fighting, and they did not go easy on each other. Chris’ lip was split and Y/N’s nose was bleeding, due to great timed punches. The more they fought, the more aggressive they became. Their skin was shining with sweat, their hair was messed up and their training clothes twisted around their bodies. After a while, when Chris thought he managed to tire her out, Y/N jumped at him and managed to get him on his back with a flip. The sound of a loud thud was followed by a choked groan, Y/N pressed her foot into his throat. The silence was filled with both of them breathing heavily. After a minute of silence, their phones rang at the same time, indicating the end of their training. She took her foot away and collected her stuff. Just before she stepped out the door, she looked back at Chris, whose eyes followed every move of her’s and whose body was still laid on the floor. She smirked and winked. “Looking forward to our next training, sweetheart.” With those words, she left, leaving the Captain alone with his shame. Not just because a young woman, who was at least ten years younger than him, managed to throw him on the floor. But, because his pants were tight, due to his rock-hard dick straining against the fabric.

After the shameful session of standing under ice cold water for fifteen minutes, Chris decided to call his friend over. He needed someone to talk to.

Leon was sitting at his dining table an hour later, both of them nursing on glasses filled with vodka. Leon was the first to break the silence.

“So, will you tell me what’s up your ass lately, or are we going to sit in silence for hours?” Chris acted weird lately, always deeply pondering and zoning out. “Is it something, or someone?” Leon could read Chris like a goddamn book.

“There’s a new recruit at the BSAA.” The bulky man said it as if it was the biggest problem in the whole wide world.

“…and? Is she a clumsy one?”

“What makes you think it’s a she?” Leon just raised one of his eyebrows, Chris knew he was cornered. “No. She��s… good, great even. She has combat skills, flexibility, reflexes, everything.” He downed his drink in one go and already poured another.

“That means you’ll have a great soldier on the team. I don’t see the problem.” Chris had this guilty look on his face. His silence told Leon the entire situation. “Oh, I see…”

“Oh, please, you have no idea.”

Leon only chuckled. “Let me share my theory.” He cleared his throat. “You are not mad at the girl, you are mad at the things she makes you feel. She is everything you ever wanted, no? And you need to take one look at her to get very aroused. But, you are afraid that the situation is too complicated, and that these feelings will stand in the way of your precious work.” The blonde’s smug face became ever more smug when he was how Chris nearly had his jaw on the floor. Of course his best friend had him all figured out.

“How the fuck did you actually know that?!” Chris said as soon as his words found him again.

“I was in the same situation years ago.” Leon said, referring to the dark-haired woman in Raccoon City many years ago.

“Sooo… What the hell should I do? She hates my guts.” He buried his face in his palms.

“Does she?” Leon got a nod for answer. “Does she dress nicely?” Nod. “All dolled up, everyday?” Nod. “And somehow you two cross paths everyday?” Another nod. “She likes you, man.”

“You really think so?”

“Of course. How old is she?” Asked Leon.

“Nearly ten years younger than us.” Chris hissed as he said it.

“So, what? You’re both adults. And younger women tend to like older men. They are attracted to the experience, and sometimes… They need a real man to take care of them.” Leon poured another round and held up his glass, so Chris could clink their glasses together. “I say, make a move on her.”

“What if she says no?” He was overthinking, as always.

“Then she says no. At least you tried, and you had enough courage to do so. But, I don’t think she’ll say no. She is waiting for you to make a move.”

After that, other topics were discussed. However, Y/N still lingered in the back of Chris’ mind.

The next day, they had no scheduled training. Chris had a little plan of his, a smooth way to ask her out, however… The plan flew right out the window when he saw her. He felt his anger boiling. She was walking around in a low-cut blouse and the tightest pencil skirt he ever saw. Every swell and curve of her ass was visible. She was standing in front of his office, smoking a cigarette by the window. He wasn’t thinking clearly, so he walked up to her, grabbed her wrist and yanked her into his office. He turned back to lock his door, and then he leaned against him. She just sat up on his desk and smiled at him.

“Wow, having a rough mor—-“ she began saying slyly, before he cut her off.

“What the fuck were you thinking?” His voice was furious. She just raised a questioning eyebrow. “Walking around the base like that?! Have you lost your mind?” He walked closer to her, he was nearly yelling, before realizing that anyone could walk in front of the door.

“Remind me. How does my clothing choices involve you?” She just crossed her legs, the fabric rid up and showed off her toned legs.

“Do you want every man in the building to drool on you? Do you want their attention on you? You want them to see everything that is not theirs?”

She only shrugged and Chris stepped right before her. Their faces are only inches away, when he spoke, she could feel his warm minty breath on her lips.

“Do you want them to think you dress for them?” He leaned even closer. “When we both know that it’s me you dress for.” He said boldly.

Her smirk got even more evident. “Don’t flatter yourself so much, Captain.” She hadn’t tried moving away.

They were both becoming more lightheaded and confident, how could they not when they were basking in each other’s scents?

“You didn’t deny.”

She slipped off the desk and began walking towards the door. He immediately caught her wrist, but before he could blink, she turned both of them around and pushed him against the door. He was looking at her lips like a man starved, and who was she to deny him? In a quick movement, she connected their lips and they let out a sigh of relief.

His hands flew to her waist to pull her closer, and her fingers tangled in his short hair. Their kiss became more and more intense. Soon enough, the only thing that was heard in his office was the dance of tongues and clashing of teeths.

He tapped her ass and she jumped into his arms. His palms held her ass, he blindly walked to the desk and put her down.

She broke their kiss, so for a few moments, they just stared at each other. Processing what just happened and looking for the permission to go further. God, she looked so hot, her lips glistening with saliva, her hair all messed up and her face flushed from lack of breath. He must have been in the same state.

They nodded at each other and clever fingers began pulling clothes away. While his hands untucked her blouse, her fingers sneaked under his turtleneck and up his back, only to pull it off him in one fast move. He mirrored her actions by lifting her blouse over her head. His lips kissed the top of her breasts, which was rewarded by a breathy moan from her. He also pushed her skirt upwards, so it was wrinkled around her waist, with her panties on full display. He groaned at the sight of her, he just wanted to eat her up. Of course she had to walk around with lacy underwear under her clothes, now everytime Chris looks at her, that will be the only thing he will be able to think about.

“You’re gorgeous, sweetheart.” He said, it caused her to smile.

“You’re not too shabby yourself, Captain.”

He chuckled and dropped to his knees. His fingers wrapped around the waistband of her panties, the scent of her pussy filled his nostrils and made his mouth water. “Will you let me get a taste of you?” She could feel his hot breath at her inner thigh.

“Please, do.”

With the green light given. He nearly tore the panties off and dived right between her legs. The second his lips came in contact with her cunt, she moaned quietly, her hands flew to his hair. “You taste so fucking amazing, sweetheart. All this for me?”

She whined and tried to push his face into her, but he wouldn’t let her until she said it. “Y-yes, all for you, Captain…”

“Good girl.” His lips quickly found her clit and he began suckling, flicking and tracing around. He did that for a bit, his chin was soaked with her wetness, so he decided to give her clenching hole some attention too. He pushed his tongue into her and he felt her legs twitch. He then switched back to her clit and teased her entrance with his finger. He fingered her and immediately began nudging her g-spot.

“I-I’m close!” He wouldn’t deny her, of course. So, he sped up the movement of his lips and fingers. A second later, she came all over his face and had to bite into her arm to muffle her sinful sounds. He drew out her orgasm as long as he could and when she pushed his head away from her cunt from overstimulation.

He licked his lips with a wicked look on his face, while she tried catching her breath.

As soon as she did. She straightened up and began unbuttoning his pants. She got him out of his boxers and gasped. Her hands wrapped around his rock hard cock, it was so big and thick. His tip was dripping precum constantly, he just couldn’t wait to be inside of her. He felt hot in her hands, and she could feel every throb of his.

She hopped off the desk to drop to her knees, but with a hand on her chin, he stopped her. “No, I cannot wait a minute more, I need to be inside you.” With a swift motion, he turned her around and pushed the front of her body on the table.

He could have blown his load right then and there, her ass and pussy was all on display for him, her hole clenched and waited for him, only him. She suddenly reached into her bra and pulled out a condom, he took it gratefully and rolled it on himself. “Why do you—?”

“Better to be prepared.” He chuckled and whispered a quiet “True”.

He held his cock by the base and the other caressed her back.

With one motion, he slipped inside her, which caused them both to groan. She was so wet that she immediately welcomed her in. He tried to be gentle, but the more she tightened around him, the more he lost control.

Before they knew it, he was pounding into her with an impressive speed. His hands were tangled in her hair, so he could pull her back to his chest. Both of his arms were around her hips to steady himself. She was struggling to keep her moans back, so one of his hands left her hips and two of his fingers were put in her mouth. “Shh, you wouldn’t want everyone to hear how much you love getting fucked by your superior, now do you?” She only shook her head.

After a bit, he pulled out and sat her up on the desk. The second she felt his cock leave her, she whined, which got her a hand wrapped around her throat. “Don’t be greedy. You’ll take what I give you, whenever I do.” He could feel her walls clenching around him, so she was into powerplay? Maybe, but what he did know, is that she looked absolutely divine this way. His arms holding her legs up, her tits in the bra bouncing with his every thrust. This time, he shut her up by claiming her lips with his own, to which she immediately complied. Their tongues twirled, and their moans drowned in each other’s mouth.

She blindly reached for his hand and put it on her neglected clit. He immediately started rubbing her in small circles, and her legs jerked from the extra stimulation. “Have you wanted this to happen, sweetheart?” He said, and she nodded quickly. “Put on your tight little clothes every morning, hoping that I’ll whisk you away to fuck you stupid?”

“Y-yes, Captain!” She whimpered as he began kissing her neck.

“But, you still beat the shit out of me in training?” He said to her slyly and she chuckled.

“Consider it as foreplay.” She threw her head back, to give him more to kiss.

“Mhm, but you’re a good girl.” He cooed to her, and it made her nearly melt under him. “You just need someone to take care of you, hm?”

“Yes, yes! I’m about to—OH!” She pulled her nails across his back, which brought him to the edge.

“Go ahead, sweetheart. Come all over my cock.”

They managed to fall over the edge at the same time, and her walls just kept milking him dry. They took a few minutes to catch their breaths.

He gently pulled out of her and helped her on her wobbly feet. He tied the condom and threw it out. He had some tissues in his desk so he cleaned her and himself up. She was reaching for her panties, when he suddenly snatched. “Mine.”

She pouted. “That’s my favorite pair.”

“I’ll buy you a hundred more.” He said, and that satisfied her enough.

She gave him one last kiss and made her way to the door. She turned around just before she left. “See you at training tomorrow?”

“Of course. And don’t plan on bringing another favorite pair of panties.” He said as he sat down, after all, the paperwork won’t do itself.

She sighed, but giggled. “Fuck you.” She waved and left his office.

“You sure will.” He whispered to himself. He leaned back into his chair and got started on the files.

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[kvnstwerk]

you have me, yeah?

—♡ leon has successfully been able to restrain his desires for you until you bent over in front of him, revealing a part of you that he deeply craved.

—♡ warnings: pervy best friend leon, reader is kinda bimbo coded, feminine reader, dom!leon, manhandling, teasing, oral sex (reader recieving), mentions of rough sex.

“why don’t you like my teddy bears?” you asked, arms crossed with a pout as you stare at your best friend. he stares back at you, his muscled body resting against your white bed frame.

“i don’t hate them i just don’t see why you care about them so much. they’re not rea-”

“leon!” you cut him off, a look of genuine terror on your face. which makes him chuckle.

you were too cute for words. your sweet personality making his heart gush. as it always does. 

you captured his heart so effortlessly. you were pure, so delicate. in every possible way. he couldn’t help but let his thoughts wander to the dark side. he felt so disgusting and tried so hard to keep them in check. but oh god, it was so fucking hard. especially when you were prancing around your bedroom in tiny sleep shorts, smooth thigh highs that hugged your soft legs in the most intoxicating way, white tank tops which were borderline see-through. showing the outline of your perky breasts and nipples. and here you were now, you kneeled next to him on the bed. dressed in exactly that. he felt like a fucking animal, wanting to destroy every ounce of purity that radiated from you. 

he wasn’t stupid, he knew you liked him more than just a friend. always finding himself enamored by the way your cheeks tinted pink every time he touched you, or called you pretty, or rested his large hand on your soft squishy thighs. just above where your cute little thigh highs sit. he couldn’t possibly help but think how pretty your pussy would be.

fuck leon, quit it. take your time with her. he’d think to himself.

he can’t quite recall when his forbidden feelings had exceeded a platonic level, all he knew is that he wanted you. needed you. the days would go by where he didn’t make a move and felt himself growing more and more sadistic towards you.

“well, you don't need to cuddle this little thing tonight. you've got me, yeah?” he says, carelessly throwing your cute little plushie on the floor. an overly dramatic gasp escaping your mouth.

“leon, that's not funny. you're so mean. you have to be gentle with them,” you say softly as you move down the mattress to retrieve the beloved little bunny, bending your body off the edge of the bed. as the front half of your body disappeared, leon looked. wanting to get a glimpse of as much as he could without you noticing his devious gaze. but what he wasn’t expecting to see was your bare cunt on full display before his eyes. his breath hitched as his thoughts ran wild.

do you always forget to wear underwear when he's around? why hasn't he noticed this before? is this an invitation?

he couldn’t help but stare. you looked so so soft. eyes locked onto your entrance. swearing he could see it glisten. he gulps, saliva filling his hungry mouth at the thought of fucking you open with his tongue. 

“fuck…” he mutters a little too loudly, causing you to turn around. still bent over to retrieve your plushie.

“what’s wrong, lee?” you ask, your pretty doe eyes looking into his with wonder. “are you feeling ok?”

god, you really and no fucking idea what you were doing. 

“you… you’re a little fuckin’ tease aren’t you?” he hisses, grabbing your hips as if you were a rag doll and forcing you to lay down on your bed. hair splaying across your silky pillows. he was hovering over you now, you felt like you were drowning under his large frame.

“w-what are you talkin about, leon? i-” you attempt.

“‘i-… i-… what are you talking about, leon?’” he mocks, a sadistic smirk on his face. “you’re not fooling me, doll,” he moves his large hand down to your cunt, resting it over your thin sleep shorts. gasping as the warmth of his skin laid against your most precious area. “did you forget to wear your panties today like a silly little dits?”

“n-no, just wanted to be comfy. didn’t do it on purpose,” you look into his eyes as you plead, precious little pout on your lips.

oh god, he was going to fucking ruin you. 

“is that right?” he asks, biting his lip. you nod your head. he doesn’t say anything as he moves down your body, forcing your thighs open as he settles between them. his toned stomach resting against your frilly duvet. he then pulls your bottoms to the side, revealing your glistening pussy to his properly. “then why is your needy little cunt dripping for me?”

“i.. leon i just-” you spoke, being cut off by your own gasp as he pulls down your shorts and throws them carelessly to the side. you blush, nobody had ever seen you like this before. your legs instinctively begin to close, but he effortlessly pulls them open again.

“wanted to see this precious little pussy of yours for years, don’t even think about hiding it from me now,” you whimper at his words. recalling the countless nights you spent alone, whining his name into your pillows to the thought of his rough fingers touching you there. and now, it was finally happening.

your head was spinning.

you weren’t naive, you knew about sex. what your sexual preferences were and what you desired, but you’d never actually done anything before. he knew that, he’s your best friend.

of course he knew.

he leans in, pressing his nose to your clit and inhaling your essence deeply. taking in your scent. it was feral, but your pussy clenched around nothing at his action. he hums, saliva filling his mouth as he prepares to taste you for the first time.

he could no longer resist and licked a rough stripe from your hole to your needy clit, the unfamiliar feeling causing a small gasp to escape your lungs. but oh god, did it feel good.

“leon…” you whine as he kisses your clit softly, and then again, and then again. legs trembling pathetically with each kiss. the sound of you whimpering his name sent him into a feral state, his tongue messily tracing along each crevice of your cunt. his pretty nose poking your clit in the most heavenly way.

“oh… oh, leon,” you whimper out, your trembling back arching off the bed. he finally locks his slick soaked lips around your needy bud, aggressively sucking on the delicate bundle of nerves. he rests one of his large hands on your tummy, semi exposed as your little top rode up when he threw you down on the bed.

“taste so pretty and sweet, knew you would,” he speaks against you, thighs trembling softly around his face and head. he contemplated using his fingers, but concluded quickly that it was unexplored territory for you. he didn’t want to overwhelm you too much, so he decided that simply eating your pussy would suffice. for now.

his attention stayed on your puffy clit, sucking and nipping the bundle. anything to hear those desperate whines and pleas of yours. he could tell you were already about to cum based on the way your body shook in his grasp, the way your hips attempted to buck towards his mouth. not to mention all of the pathetic whimpers that fell from your sweet lips.

all it took was for his eyes to meet yours for the band inside of your stomach to snap. your head flew back as the intense pleasure flooded your jolting frame. limbs wildly trembling and sweet cries that only drove him to buck his hips against the mattress himself. leon collected every drop of cum that fell from your slit, groaning at the sweet salty taste that he knew he’d now be addicted to for the rest of his life.

he continued to lick your cunt until he decided it was enough, kissing up your tummy and torso until his face was hovering over yours. you looked so pretty and fucked out, all he could think about was how you’d look after he finally gets to split you open with his cock. like he’s been waiting for, for so damn long.

he couldn’t wait for that day, but he knew that’d be too much. he knew what was best for you.

he leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. you whined when he abruptly moved back. not satisfied with the shortness of the kiss. you watched him as he moved off the bed, bending down to pick up your long lost stuffed animal before returning to his previous position.

“here you go, baby doll. think you’re gonna need his after that,” he says, handing you the plushie that he had carelessly tossed onto the floor earlier. that’s when you noticed the way his chin was glistening with your essence. the warm lamps light reflecting on it causing it to sparkle. you blush and clutch your plushie to your chest. you look up at his lips as you bit yours, hoping he’d take the hint and kiss you once again. and he did.

because he knew you so well.

[kvnstwerk]

Sweet Obsession

Leon S. Kennedy with a foot fetish basically

Leon gazed down at you, breathless and spellbound, as you lay beneath him. Tender marks bloomed on your delicate skin where his lips had just lingered. Your lover leaned closer, his mouth tracing a path up and down your throat, aligning himself with your already glistening heat. "Pleasepleaseplease," he'd murmur breathlessly against your flesh, a good-natured, submissive soul just waiting for your permission.

No time was wasted. He slammed into you as if it were the last thing he'd ever do. Kisses were exchanged, teeth clashing gently, and sinful moans filled the room. The neighbors already hated you as it was – "not much to lose," Leon would always say with a wry smile.

One hand gripping your hip, his other still steadying his broad figure above yours, your husband slowly slid it under your leg. He pulled your limb up, the smooth curve of your tanned calf resting on his shoulder, the newfound angle deepening the intimate connection between your bodies. Both of you let out soft sounds of pleasure as he found his rhythm, thrusting in and out of your cervix again.

The air in the room was thick, the soft glow of the lamp casting long shadows on the wall, highlighting the rise and fall of your bodies. Your breath hitched in your throat as his gaze drifted, settling on your foot resting on his muscular shoulder. It was adorned with a beautiful silver anklet Leon had given you last year in Greece. There, catching the light with each movement, he watched it. His eyes fixated on the small, intricately carved 'L' charm that hung from the delicate chain. It wasn't just an initial; it was a silent promise, a reminder of your devotion to one another, a subtle declaration of ownership that thrilled him to his core.

Marriage wasn’t enough; he needed to be under your skin, to possess every part of you and merge souls. He turned his head, his lips gently brushing against the cool silver of the jewelry piece, a silent acknowledgment of its significance, a claim. "My sweet Obsession," he breathed, his voice thick with emotion. "I'm completely, utterly crazy about you." His gaze, piercing yours, intensified with heat.

Then he focused on your foot again, running his fingers along the delicate bones, the soft pads of your sole. He trailed lingering kisses from your heel to the tip of your big toe, a silent worship, a fervent devotion to the curves and arches of your foot. Leon admired the way your sun-kissed skin felt beneath his touch. He gently pressed his lips against the arch, then the ball of your foot, savoring the sensation, before trailing his tongue along the length of your toes, one by one, a silent plea for deeper possession.

This wasn't just intimacy; it was reverence, a deep, aching need to claim every inch of you, starting with the beautiful curve of your foot.

[kvnstwerk]

━━━━━━ ✧˖° 𝐋𝐈𝐕𝐈𝐍’ 𝐈𝐍 𝐀 𝐖𝐄𝐓 𝐃𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐌

‎ ‎ [ 𝐥𝐞𝐨𝐧 𝐤𝐞𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐝𝐲 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 ]

female reader, inclusive language. minors dni. slightly dead dove.

kinks: daddy kink, dirty talk, leon is submissive, oral sex, cum eating, rough sex, face sitting, one mention of leon in panties, masturbation, mentions of mommy kink (not with reader), protective leon, anal play, panty stealing, fingering, creampie, some humiliation, cumming untouched, light dom/sub, kinky soulmates <3

warnings and triggers: fauxcest, age difference, leon is a perverted old freak, reader is a camgirl and does only fans, dubcon if you squint, noncon fantasies, leon is extremely pathetic and is simping hard, slut shaming, mentions of intoxicated sexual acts, sexual blackmail, reader is kind of a bad person, porn addiction, one mention of drug use, alcoholism, mommy and daddy issues

word count: 9.2k

porn with plot.

He’s too old for you. You’re too good for him. Whatever weird thing that’s going on between the two of you - that’s all it can be. Roommates. Friends. And even then, Leon knows that it’s pushing the limits of what’s acceptable.

→ You sell nudes for a living and Leon is the hot, older man who lets you move in with him. He’s the sweetest pervert you’ve ever met.

It starts, because you need a place to stay. 

Leon hardly knows you. He knows your name, yeah, and he knows that you have a great rack. Perky tits and a pretty smile, lips that are always pink and glossy. You smell good, and one time you reached around him to grab a straw on the bar top and he felt your soft body press against his, and - 

Okay, all Leon really knows about you is that you’re hot. Really fucking hot, like a girl from the porn he used to watch, back when he really hated himself. Don’t get him wrong, he still does harbor deep feelings of resentment for everything that makes him who he is, but it’s not as bad as it used to be. 

That’s what he tells himself, anyway. 

He met you at a bar. His bar, and by that, he means his home away from home - the local fucking bar, a few blocks away from his apartment actually. Every good drunk knows it’s mandatory to have a bar they can get to without driving, because every smart drunk knows that in order to properly drink to their heart’s delight, they’ve got to have a safe way to get home. See? Leon called himself smart - he doesn’t hate himself nearly as much as he used to. 

But he also just hasn’t figured out the whole Uber thing. Oh well. 

Leon, his bar - right. You’re always fucking there. Leon doesn’t understand why, because it’s a shitty place, with phone numbers scribbled on the back of the bathroom stall doors. Once, before last call, Leon swears someone followed him into the bathroom and asked if there was a glory hole. Or - maybe he followed someone into the bathroom and - doesn’t really matter. There’s no glory hole at this place, and it isn’t until after you move in, that Leon realizes you only came to this bar so much because everyone was paying for your drinks. Leon was paying for your drinks. Smart girl. 

You’re a lush, that much is true. You drink a lot, and you can’t handle your liquor - but that’s part of your appeal. Just a little. It’s one thing, for a little slut like you to drink like a grown man and not show any signs of it, but that’s not you. You drink dirty shirley temples and cherry coke and jack and your eyes get misty and you slur your words and Leon always has to walk you back to your apartment that you share with three other girls. But the best part about drunk you, is that you’re always asking to suck his dick.

You’re my friend, you told him once, even though Leon doesn’t really agree with that. But fuck it, right? He could always use friends. Especially friends that are as hot as you. 

Makes the other guys at the bar jealous, when you show up every Friday night with your stupidly small purse, not big enough to even hold a wallet, just lip gloss and bubblegum and, Leon, you think they take Apple Pay? Leon doesn’t fucking know, and it doesn’t really matter, because he’s paying for your drinks anyway. Can’t figure out Uber, you think he knows what Apple Pay is?

That’s how it starts. 

You show up every weekend to a bar you don’t belong at, take a seat next to Leon who always arrives before you and is half drunk by the time you get there, and the rest of the night, he buys your drinks. He doesn’t know a lot about you, that’s true, but you do talk a lot. Chat his ear off. Nothing important ever comes out of your mouth, but you overshare a lot of details that mean nothing. It’s cute, and it’s not like Leon’s got anyone else to talk to. It goes on like this, for months, until Leon finally asks you what you’re doing at this shit hole in the first place. 

You blink at him, fake lashes a little crooked since you fixed them in the bathroom. Oh, right - Leon knows you’re a little slut because you sucked him off in a bathroom stall. There’s no glory hole at this place, no - but he put his leather jacket on the ground so you didn’t bruise your bare knees when you let the head of his cock bruise the back of your throat. 

“I live close,” you explain, looking at Leon like a clueless little kitten. He swears your nose scrunches up, so fucking cute, and then he downs the rest of his drink before the way your makeup is smeared around your eyes turns him off.

Leon thinks differently of you after you swallowed his cum. After you did that. Not that he slut shames or anything, but - what you did was kind of slutty. He feels bad about that thought, even if it turns him on, so when he walks you home that night, he tells you he’s not a creep, that you can trust him - he’s a cop.

Not that you needed that information to trust him. You’re a little naive, and you’re obviously old enough to drink, but Leon wonders what’s wrong with you. Girls like you should be on dating apps, getting guys your age to buy you dinner or take you to the movies. Or looking for men even older than him, to spend money on you and buy you those heels with the red bottoms. Leon doesn’t remember what they’re called, just that ball busting porn seems to center around that brand of shoes.

You shouldn’t be blowing strange older men in gross bar bathrooms. He thinks about how long it took you to tie a cherry stem with your tongue and how he had to pay attention like it was the coolest shit he’s ever seen, and he feels annoyed all over again - but at the same time, a little charmed?

Anyway. You’re practically a stranger. Leon doesn’t even know what your pussy looks like when you move into his apartment. It happens so fast. 

One night, you come to the bar looking like shit. There’s no lip gloss on your lips, just some dry looking color and for the first time, Leon understands what overline means, and your eye makeup is smeared around your eyes, and your hair is - not done? God, Leon is the most judgmental bastard in the world. A hypocrite too, judging you like that - since last night he spent about four hours jacking himself off to porn of girls who look just like you. So much for a porn free lifestyle. It's your fault he broke his porn freak streak.

With his non dominant hand, since the other was preoccupied with jacking his cock off - he typed up, spelling errors and all, exact features of your body to get better results. He was dedicated. 

Yunggbh bslut gets fucked by old sdaddyh, for example.

Some results did come up, by the way. Last night was a good night. Anyway.

He asked you what was wrong, and you sniffled, demanded a vodka lemonade, and told Leon your troubles. Here’s what went down:

You acted like a little slut. Which, in this case - meant you were just being yourself. It’s okay, baby, Leon remembers saying, As your friend, I’m being honest. Okay? You just couldn’t help yourself, and that’s okay. God, it’s like the blind leading the blind. Leon, obsessed with a girl much too young for him, with scummy, dirty, awful, perverted thoughts about her, pretending to care about her problems so she might touch his dick - telling said girl that it’s okay she fucked her roommate's boyfriend, because she was just being herself. 

It’s kind of beautiful. Meant to be, in a kinky, weird way, Leon thinks, ordering another drink for you and himself. Anyway, the point is - you have to find a place to stay, and you’re not sure where to go. 

Leon, shit faced, says you can live with him. And that’s how it happens.

────

You get under his skin. 

You’re insane, annoying. Smoking hot. Leon didn’t know they made girls that look like you in real life, thought the women he saw in porn and online had to come from a factory somewhere, but he doesn’t see a shipping label anywhere on your body. You’re a little rude, although when someone is as hot as you are, society calls you bratty. Well, Pornhub does. Maybe not society.

Leon can complain all he wants, but that’s actually not something that’s annoying to him - Leon likes brats. Has watched enough bratty stepsis porn in his life to be okay with it, at least. 

And anyway, it’s all his fault. Leon hardly knew you when he asked you to move in, which was one of his most pathetic moments. Just a drunk mistake, but how dumb are you, to move in with a man you don’t know? Sure, Leon has paid a small fortune for your drinks over the last few months, has walked you home, listened to you babble about dumb reality shows, assured you that he was a cop, and he knows what color your nipples are - but maybe that was just a long term, elaborate plan to get you to trust him so he could…traffick you or something. Fuck. 

You’re so goddamn naive. But, hell - maybe he is too. 

You’re a distraction - you come with a big, red warning label that Leon didn’t notice when he brought you home, because how could he? You might be a walking red flag, but you’ve covered that flag in enough pink and glitter that it’s impossible to see the true color of it. 

On purpose? Leon’s not quite sure. All he knows, is that he can’t escape you. 

Can’t escape the girly mess you leave all around his apartment in the form of little socks with tiny cartoon characters on it, the mugs you collect that take up space in his sink. Can’t escape the smell of your sweet perfume, the way it lingers in his car and on his clothes. 

And that shit is really long lasting, because he just came home from the bar and he couldn’t even flirt with any women. Tried to get the number of some blonde in an attempt to distract himself from thoughts of you, and all she had to reply with was asking how old he was, and to tell his girlfriend that she has good taste in perfume. 

Bitch. I don’t have a girlfriend, Leon wanted to say, but didn’t know how else to describe you. Even to himself. What can he say? I’ve got a little twenty something year old living in my house. Yeah, she lets me fuck her sometimes, but she’s not my girlfriend. It sounds bad to him, and he's the one living it.

Because that’s the progression. Yeah, Leon let you move in, and now there’s pieces of you all over his apartment, his car, his mind. Feels like you’re literally under his skin sometimes. 

Tonight, he gets home, kicks off his boots, hangs up his leather jacket - and he runs a hand through his hair. Leon is tired. Tired of working so fucking much, tired of pretending like he has a life outside of his little thing with you, annoyed that when he was about to score with that busty blonde milf she threw the fact that he smelled like perfume in his face and tried to humiliate him - and he hates that he liked that too. Made his dick chub up a bit. What the fuck is wrong with him? 

You’re not in the living room, so Leon figures you’re in your room - and he avoids that door. Likes you and all, just doesn’t want to deal with you right now. Besides, you could be filming, because - oh right, did he forget to mention? You make amature porn of yourself and sell it for money.

Yeah, that’s partially why Leon hates his life so much. You bring out the worst in him, bad habits and all. It’s just porn, Leon, you really don’t watch it? You’re so fucking old, I swear. 

Of course, now he does watch it, but you're such a little brat - Leon's been looking at porn since before you were born.

And, yeah - he does think that little fact is hot.

Leon’s pretty sure he’s got blisters from how much he whacks off nowadays. Imagines you in your room, and sometimes presses his ear against the door when you're filming something. Can hear you, the little beep of your camera, the sound of your pussy, so wet while you rub yourself off and post the video for men even more pathetic than Leon to buy and - 

Alright, alright. He can’t pretend like he’s not subscribed. He is. Feels a weird sense of intimacy, knowing that the mattress you lay on when you stuff toys inside of yourself is his, that the walls that your moans echo off of are paid for by him, that the cup you drink water out of after deepthroating a pink dildo on live chat is his, gifted to him by his aunt but. Whatever. He notices every curve of your perfect body, that stupid little Playboy bunny belly button ring you wear. He'll jack off in his room, then he times leaving his room, hand still salty with his spunk, to meet you in the kitchen while you're still in whatever sexy little outfit you filmed in. 

“Thirsty?” He'll say, pretending like your ass cheeks aren’t hanging out. He’ll reach around you, grab a bottle of water from the fridge. “What are you wearing? It’s cold out. You need me to turn the heat on?” He’ll ask, as if he didn’t anonymously buy you that outfit from your wishlist. He’s such a fucking sick bastard. 

But tonight - you’re not in your room. Leon can tell, because the light is off, and normally you’re awake this late, watching movies or dirtying up his kitchen that you won’t even bother cleaning. He won’t accept your money for rent, because he’s not that pathetic, can afford to pay for this place - but he thought you'd at least pick up after yourself. Instead, you leave messes everywhere that Leon has to clean, after he gets off work. Doing laundry naked, which you do, probably once a month, makes up for it. But sometimes you shrink his clothes. 

And anyway, knowing you’re in his home, lazy and freeloading, probably playing with your pussy while he fights the urge to shoot himself in the head at work - it kind of turns him on. He’s got no clue why. Imagines you forcing him to fuck you or else you’ll tell mom and dad on the way home from work so he doesn’t drive his car into upcoming traffic and end his miserable existence right there. Porn brain. Thanks to you. Do you know what you’re doing to him?

You’re in his bed. You’re in a pair of purple panties that are the perfect amount of tight and your shirt has a weird picture of a stuffed bear on it. Leon’s half hard already, but he pretends like he’s annoyed. “Why are you in my room?” He asks, standing in the doorway. He waits for you to move, but you don’t. Of course you don’t.

Instead, you spread your legs, turn off whatever you were watching on his television. Probably deleted all his recordings too, because he’s old enough that he still does that. Has cable, that is. You asked what that was once. Leon got so hard, he almost cried when he made himself cum in the shower. 

“Lighting was better in here. During sunset, you know,” you say casually, as if he’s supposed to know what that means. And then - oh. He does. You filmed in his room? You spread the lips of your little cunt and rubbed yourself to orgasm on camera on the phone that Leon added to his phone plan in his bed, and - 

He pretends to be cool about it. 

“Alright,” he says, sitting beside you in his bed. He leans against his pillows, watches you sit up and push your messy hair away from your face. Leon is pretty sure he sees a wet spot on your panties. Not to mention, the bed sort of smells like…pussy. It’s delicious. Gross, in a way that makes Leon lick his lips and fight back the desire to pull you up his body so you’re sitting on his face. He wants that, to taste you. Has only got to do it once, but wishes you’d make him do it everyday. Force him to. He probably needs medication. 

You shirt is see through, but you break his imaginary boundaries and cozy up to his side. Grab his arm and lift it, tuck yourself against him and then place his arm around you. It’s hard to believe you’ve known each other less than a year, that you’ve only lived together for a few months. “Where’d you go tonight?” You ask, and Leon wonders if you get jealous. Knows he does, when you put on your slutty little outfits and go out with your friends. 

Knows his cock got harder than it did when he went through his Viagra stage, which was before he met you, when you brought your friends over and teased him in front of them. When a pretty redhead, your bestie you said, laughed at him and then asked for a ride in a cop car which he can’t do, unless he wants to lose his job, and he doesn’t, because he wants to keep you and -

“Bar. Almost hooked up with some chick,” he says, trying to appear…like anyone but himself. He can’t tell if you’re jealous, but you throw a leg over him, definitely feel the bulge in his jeans, but you don’t say anything. Didn’t your parents ever teach you not to cuddle with roommates? Not to fuck them? Probably not, since they didn’t tell you not to move in with strange men who have fantasies about younger women controlling their lives. Anyway, Leon’s winning here, why should he complain? 

“Why didn’t you?” You ask, tone bratty. Should get smacked in the face for that, instead, Leon just gropes your ass. 

“She thought I had a girlfriend. Smelled your perfume,” and because he can’t stop nagging, he’s old, he adds, “Because you’re always spraying it in my car and I told you not to,” and you laugh. Well, giggle. It’s so sweet and so cute and your nipples are hard against him, and Leon just lets out a deep breath. 

“I knew that perfume was long lasting. Need to write a review on the Sephora app. Anyway, Lee,” and since when did Leon say you could give him that nickname? He groans. “You can fuck me, if you want. Since I ruined your hookup,” you offer, pulling yourself onto his body. You’re straddling his hips, and then you take his hands, slip them under your shirt and place them on your perfect tits. Leon moans, because he’s pathetic, bucks his hips up and loves that you’re already so wet. He can feel the heat from your cunt through his jeans. You’re ready to go. Ready for him. He can see your arousal on the fabric of your panties.

He’s only a man, okay? He takes you up on that offer, because of course he does. Tonight, he wanted that woman that looked like she wouldn’t mind a bit of mommy play, but everyday? Leon wants you. He takes his clothes off, takes your clothes off, imagines all that stepsister porn shit in his brain while he rails you, because he’s broken, sits up and maneuvers you so you’re under him, fucks you so hard your head hits his headboard and wonders idly if you’re filming this for whatever little hustle you’ve got going on. Secret cameras exist. You’re a pro, really, you are, and you scratch his back and suck his neck and call him Daddy, and Leon likes that but not tonight.  

“You got any siblings?” He says, one hand by your head, balancing his body so he doesn’t crush you, the other gripping the headboard. You tighten your legs around his hips, smile a little goofy, and keep his cock nice and snug and tight inside of you. He feels your walls hugging his cock.

“Yeah,” you say, and Leon wonders if you check his porn history. Same wifi and all that. Can people do that? Because you say, “A stepbrother.” 

Leon cums inside of you, paints your insides with his seed and when he pulls out he uses that dumbass bear shirt to clean you off. He goes to shower, feeling manly for banging his hot, young roommate, when you call out, “Can I have my lace panties back? The ones with the white hearts on them. They’re pink. Think they’d look cute for the video I wanna film,” but Leon cuts you off. Opens his shower door, turns the water on and stands outside while it warms up. 

Quirks a brow. Pretends to be clueless, wonders why you’re just laying in bed still while his cum is probably sticking to your cervix.

You laugh, sit up in bed and toss your dirty shirt into his hamper. 

“I know you took them from my laundry basket,” you say, but you’re not judging. You’re cool with it, and ultimately, that’s why Leon likes you so much. Girl of his dreams and all. Leon feels comfortable with you. He’s never felt like this around anyone. You're the least judgmental woman that Leon has ever met.

The shower is hot now, but he walks to his closet and opens his sock drawer, grabs the panties that you’re asking for and tosses them to you on the bed. You cackle.

So much for limp dick Leon. He jacks off again in the shower, all thanks to you.

────

Honest truth? Leon has never lived with a woman. Not like this.

He says it’s hard to live with you, because he’s a negative bastard, but he really doesn’t know if it’d be like this with any woman. Isn’t sure if it’s normal for stuffed animals to cover every square inch of the house, doesn’t know if all women sit on their roommate's bathroom counter and get their little toe marks on the mirror when they do their makeup, because his bathroom lighting is better. One of these days, Leon swears you’re going to ask him to switch rooms with you, and he honestly doesn’t know if he’d be able to say no. 

You’ve lived with him for six months now.

Today, Leon’s off of work. And you? You’re driving him crazy. 

You’re ruining his couch, drenched yourself in coconut oil after your shower and you’re completely naked, drying off on the couch which really means just destroying the leather. And Leon’s dick is hard because he accidentally sat on your bunny stuffed animal, and you smacked him on the arm and - yup. It’s that easy these days. He's that easy for you.

Doesn't hurt that you're naked and shiny.

“Do you have an Instagram, Leon?” You randomly ask, while he sits on the ground of his own living room since you’re hogging the couch. He’s flicking through channels, leaning against the end of the couch where your feet are, and he swears you're purposely bumping your cute, pink painted toes into his head. Ruining his hair, you little brat. 

He makes no move to change seating position though. Too busy dealing with the emotions of realizing that he’s upset you haven’t called him Lee in weeks. 

“No,” he says, scoffing because he’s a drama queen. Probably picked that up from you. All he can think about is the fact that you smell like a tropical vacation, one he’s never taken, and that you’re all oiled up and so is your pussy because you shaved. He could slip right in. Taste you, feel you melt on his tongue, bend you over and rub the head of his dick through the oil on your thigh and fuck you in your ass -

“You’re so old,” you reply, sitting up. Leon turns his full attention to you, sits on the couch, loves the way your stomach has a roll and that you’ve got stretch marks on your tits yet you’re so young and so hot and so tight in the way that only women your age are. Don’t get him wrong - he likes older women too. It’s more about the personality of a woman then the looks that get him going, but you? You’re every wet dream he’s ever had come to life. Put the girls in the porn he watches to shame. 

He wants to lick your pussy. Instead, he says, “Can I see your account?” 

Leon plays dumb. He’s got an Instagram, no pictures and his user is rookiecookiecop, but he only uses it to jerk off to pictures of girls in bikinis that look like you. He doesn’t get it, all this talk about don’t objectify me from girls your age, when all you lot do is show your body off online in skimpy clothes. Begging for attention. At least you make money off of it, link in your bio and everything.

To be fair though, sometimes Leon logs on and watches fridge organization videos, or loyalty test street interviews. Podcast clips, depending on the algorithm of the day. God forbid he accidentally finds one of those Republican blonde chicks hot. You can’t tell someone's political affiliation just from their bikini pics, but a mistake like that will fuck up his Explore page for sure. But they're entertaining enough, all those videos, while he’s warming his dick up with a hand in his pants in his bed at night.

You hand Leon your phone, and your page is cute. Coffee everyday, pink hair clips and little keychains on your purse and lots of cleavage and little skirts and friends just as hot as you. Pictures of the dinners Leon has taken you out to, or when he drives you in his car somewhere, or when you watch a movie together. His arm is the only thing showing in these photos, of course, but his chest feels full of something like love, because he’s a pathetic idiot loser pervert, but it’s kind of nice you want to document your time with him. His arm looks sexy too. His new protein powder must be working.

A lot of guys comment on your stuff, and then Leon can’t help but ask, “Why don’t you have a boyfriend? Why do you type in all lowercase?” You laugh at the second part, scoot closer to him, take your phone back and set your phone on the coffee table and place a hand in the middle of his chest to push him down. You shrug, before climbing up his body, settling on his face.

Your confidence - it’s fucking sexy. Treating Leon like you own him. You sort of do, he’ll admit it. He wants you to know it too.

“‘Cause I got you,” you say, possibly the most romantic thing Leon’s heard in fifteen years. “You're such a good friend. Take good care of me. You don't judge me," and then you add, "Lick my pussy, Daddy?” And Leon does. ‘Course he does. You’re his roommate, his crush, the girl of his dreams - but most of all, you’re his baby, aren’t you? You give him hell, need his protection, live with him and he provides for you and -

He sucks your clit into his mouth. On his face, you cum three times, all from his tongue which makes him feel pretty good. You’re the only girl he knows who is so willing to have her ass played with, his perfect little slut, so he fingers your hole and nearly gets a charley horse in his bicep when his arm tenses up keeping you in place in his face. It feels good, holding you down and prodding at you. He wants you to squirt, but he’s not sure he’s got the skills for that quite yet. 

Probably needs more practice. He’ll ask you for some more later. 

But Leon’s pretty content right now, smothered under your pretty pussy, two fingers knuckle deep in your ass, your soft skin suffocating him because you’re right about the oil, you feel baby soft. Which works, being his baby, because you keep calling him Daddy and Leon loves it so much. You moan like he’s the best mouth you’ve ever had, which is sweet, since he hears you get yourself off in your own room constantly, and you get much louder than you are right now. 

You don’t squirt, but you’re satisfied. Thank Leon for the orgasms and his enthusiasm (ouch) before walking off to your room. You don’t offer to return the favor or anything, but it’s okay. 

Leon came in his boxers, untouched. Forget all that shit he saw online about how to fix a dick that won’t get hard. No need to cut out alcohol, no need to take magic pills, no need to eat healthy or workout less or stop porn. 

Apparently, all Leon needed was to meet someone like you. 

Phew.

────

“There’s no more alcohol,” you say one night, cutting up strawberries on the kitchen counter top with no cutting board. Leon’s got to ask about the way you grew up - it’s like you know nothing about living as an adult, but who’s he to judge? Your immaturity works in his favor. He, and he knows it's sick, wants you to rely on him.

“Okay,” he says, mood a little sour from yet another shitty day at work. Another shitty day in his brain, so bad he sort of thinks he should look in his bathroom cabinet and see if those pills a doctor prescribed years ago for depression might still work. “Go buy some. You need some cash?”

You snort, which is unattractive but cute, and Leon feels a little better just being around you. You’re eating fruit salad for dinner, and even though he bought the groceries and he just came home from work, you don’t offer him any. Makes his dick stir, at your selfishness. He needs therapy, badly. But a quick fix, he realizes, can be found at the bottom of a liquor bottle.

He just can’t believe all the alcohol in the apartment is really gone - just figured you stopped looking after checking one cabinet, but. He can’t take that risk. It’s a Friday night, anyway. 

“Wanna come with me to the store?” Leon asks, shutting the fridge door after he sees nothing on interest. You nod, and then you hand him what he thinks is a strawberry, but it’s just the leaf part. You want him to throw it away, so he does. 

“Yes,” you say, so excitedly it actually almost makes Leon smile. You like him, want to hang out with him, want to be around him. Someone like you - sweet and pretty with a pussy that makes more money than his brain and his brawn, and you want to spend time with an old fuck like him. It’s flattering, honestly. 

So he drives to the store. Leon doesn’t open your door to the passenger seat, and you get all upset, huffing and sighing until Leon asks what’s wrong. “You didn’t open my door,” you bitch, and he rolls his eyes, hands you his phone that’s already connected to the bluetooth because he knows you, and he knows you want to play Katrina, Sarina, what is it again? Sabrina Carpenter? Yeah, that’s it. Leon thinks she’s pretty cute.

“I’m not your boyfriend,” Leon answers, maybe a bit too rudely, because you don’t have a snarky comment back like usual. Instead, you just dramatically look out the window while the new Britney Spears sings about trying out fuzzy pink handcuffs. Drama queen. 

You go to a corner store, because Leon doesn’t want to deal with an actual grocery store right now. Not when it’s dark outside, not when you’re in an outfit that you can’t even bend over to grab a basket in without your whole ass showing. It’s hot, shows a lot of leg even in the car, but Leon cares about you and he has a jealous streak, even if he got off last night to the thought of someone who wasn't him giving you the fuck of your life (while he watched and played clean up boy), so he opens the car door for you and takes off and holds out his jacket so you don’t flash anyone on the way out of the car. You smile a little. 

“I’ll buy you anything you want,” he teases, because it’s the cheapest 'date' in the world, and then you grin. There's a little lip gloss on your teeth, and Leon wants to lick it off. “Cigarettes?” You ask, teasing right back. Heard Leon’s drunk and coked up rant last month, about how unsexy it is when women smoke.

As if he didn’t, in his youth, ask someone a woman to put cigarette out on him. He’s got mental problems and he knows it. 

He tells you no to the cigarettes, puts his jacket back on, walks you inside the store and lets you go nuts. He picks up a basket that’s falling apart, stuffs it with too much junk and too much alcohol, and he’s a really bad person because he’s so much older than you, should be showing you good habits, but the honest truth is that he doesn’t have any. Not one. Can go months without eating a piece of broccoli, okay? He only buys healthy shit for you, like the fruit.

He walks around to find you, can see the way the other men at this corner store are looking at you, and it makes him sick - because he wonders if that’s how he looks. Is it? Like a wolf, licking his chops, ready to pounce on poor Red Riding Hood? The fact that he even remembers that fairy tale sort of makes him embarrassed, so he focuses on finding you in one of the aisles, where you’re looking at the calorie difference on powdered sugar donuts or chocolate ones. You settle on an apple pie scone thing, put it in the basket. 

“You’re an alcoholic,” you comment when you look in the basket, a little too loud, and Leon forces out a laugh. People are looking at you both, probably wondering why you’re shit talking him, or why you’re even standing together to begin with. He wonders if he looks old enough to be your dad. Hopes he doesn't, but maybe he does. People look your way, but Leon ignores them, knows you’re trailing behind him on the way up to the cash register.

Everything is fine. Normal. The smell of your perfume lingers in the air and the sound of your little heels on the ground are comforting in Leon’s ears. He gets his ID ready while he waits in line, as if he really needs to show it with his greying hair and the lines on his face when he smiles. But then -

You shriek. Leon turns around so fast, and when he realizes what happened, he drops the basket he’s holding on the ground and looks to you. You look so scared, and it’s all happening so fast but Leon realizes what’s going down and he feels an anger he’s never experienced in his entire life. 

He feels like a bad guy all the time, true - but the fact is, he’s really not. Sexual deviance aside. He had dreams of serving his community, wants to help and wants to do what’s right. He’s done good for so many people in his career, and just because he has a crippling porn addiction and an Only Fans model living in his home doesn’t mean all the good he's ever done didn't happen - or that he doesn't have an ounce left of it in his body.

Leon doesn't like what's happening, and he's not going to stand for it. Fuck no. Not when you're so upset. Some loser just smacked you on the ass - and this time, it wasn't him.

“I recognize you,” a random guy says. Ugly, reeking of marijuana and something stale. Since you moved in, Leon’s sense of smell has changed. So used to vanilla and floral and expensive and sweet that anything bad is extra noticeable now. You've changed his life. “You’re that girl, hey, John,” he calls out, and his buddy turns around. “She’s the girl I’m subscribed to.” 

You’re getting recognized at the gas station. The men standing there know what your pussy looks like, know what your nipples look like, know what you look like when you cum. Leon looks at you, and you’re about to cry, but he knows violence isn’t going to solve anything. He thinks fast, but he’s always been good at that. Leon steps towards the guys. 

“Subscribed to what? You want to explain to me what the fuck you're talking about?” He asks, and you grip his arm but he shrugs it off. Hears you tell him to let it go, it’s not worth it. But Leon’s not going to do that. No, he’s not ashamed about what you do - doesn’t think you should be either. Thinks these two punks, two guys your age that are so fucking stoned they don’t know they’re seconds away from Leon pulling the cop card and calling someone to drag their ass to the station for a drug charge.

But every cop knows - better to just scare them. So he does. 

“I’m her father, and you just smacked her ass in front of me. In public. Some man, huh? You want to tell me what that subscription is? I should beat your ass just for looking at my daughter wrong."

Leon doesn’t even know what he’s saying. Words just fly out, and he scares the fuck out of the two guys so bad that they both drop their shit and leave. Leon pays for the stuff you want, a hand on the small of your back while you try to calm down, and then he opens your car door and helps you with the seatbelt, feeling oddly protective. 

But once he sits on the driver's seat, starts the car, you break down in tears. Sobbing. Little sniffles, rubbing your face full of makeup onto the white sweater you have - and Leon knows that it’s ruining it. Staining it. He’s the one that washes it. 

“Sweetheart,” he says, the nickname rolling off his tongue. “It’s,” he doesn’t know what to say. “It’ll be okay. I’m sorry I didn’t hit them, or beat their ass, or whatever you wanted me to do but,” but you let out a wail, and undo your seatbelt, throwing yourself over the center console to wrap your arms around his neck. 

“That was so scary,” you say, and Leon feels so fucking bad. “It’s one thing when it’s virtual, you know? But in real life. It's just awful,” and you cry and cry and cry, and all Leon can think of is - duh. It’s horrible that this happened to you, makes him want to shoot both of those dicks in the, well, dick - but you had to know that real people were looking at your pics. Your videos too. Truth be told, Leon should’ve asked this a long time ago but - where are your parents? Do you seriously not have a decent adult to guide you? 

“I know, baby,” he says instead. You go back to your seat, makeup smeared, and Leon knows he’s falling hard for you because he doesn’t think it makes you unattractive. He still thinks you’re beautiful, just. A beautiful raccoon. 

He takes you home. Carries the bags from the store. You sit on the couch and pull a blanket over your lap, one of your fuzzy ones that are too small for Leon to use but fit you just right, and he puts the snacks and some of the liquor away. He’s about to take a swig out of a bottle to calm his nerves, when he hears your voice from the living room. 

“Leon,” you whimper. He walks over to you immediately. “Do you subscribe to any other girls?” Your voice sounds like you’re worried about what his answer might be, and he doesn’t understand why that’s something you’re worried about right now.

You know that Leon likes you. Look at everything he does for you. He's made it clear that even if you didn’t let him fuck you, he’d still let you live here - but at this point, you really could afford your own room somewhere. You’re friends. Why would it matter if he subscribed to - 

Wait. 

Other girls? 

Does that mean you know that he’s subscribed to you? He flushes red, flustered as he sits beside you on the couch. Hands you a little bottle of vodka to swig out of that he carried in from the kitchen, and you do. Don’t even make a face or anything. Maybe you are related. You hand the bottle back.

“I know you subscribe to me. Rookiecookiecop. Who else could it be? You've said that before when you told one of your stupid jokes.” 

Leon shakes his head, takes a swig of his own. “Could be anyone. Lots of cops. I don’t,” but he gives up. Shakes his head and taps a finger on the bottle he's holding. “Fine. I do. Just you, though. Why’re you worried about that?”

You shrug. You look so sad and small all of a sudden, and Leon just wants to wrap you up in your stupid blanket and rock you to sleep. He doesn’t know if it’s fatherly, or a feeling a boyfriend would get. It doesn’t really matter - he just wants to take care of you. 

“I just don’t know why you don’t like me like that. Like…more. I know that you’re hot and you’ve got your shit together,” and as these words leave your mouth, Leon genuinely thinks you’re pulling his leg. That you’re teasing him. Because - you’re out of your mind. You think that he’s got his shit together? He can’t even walk past your laundry basket without grabbing a pair of your dirty panties. He let a random girl move in, he secretly subscribed to her online porn page. He’s a depressed alcoholic who shouldn’t have access to a gun for his own mental health, and you - 

You’re beautiful. Sexy. Caring, when you want to be. Leon loves you, but he doesn’t know what that means. Doesn’t know what that looks like. So he scoots closer, puts the bottle down on the coffee table, wraps one arm around your shoulders and then places his other hand on your thigh, so he’s all in your space. Your fake eyelash is falling off but he doesn’t even care, really. He presses a kiss to your nose. 

“You’re so wrong,” he whispers, because that sums it up. “About everything. You have no idea, the things you do to me,” and he’s going to regret saying this, but he has to let you know. Would feel guilty, keeping this truth from you. “You’re too good for me. You see that, don’t you? Could do so much better than all this. I can’t be your boyfriend, because you deserve someone better, baby. Okay? But I’ll be what you need me to be, as long as you need it. Just you,” you nod. You understand. Leon doesn't even need to finish his speech.

You kiss him, and you’re good at all sex acts but you could use some work with your kisses. Too much saliva, that Leon slurps up because it's you, and this is the closest he's ever gotten to a woman spitting in his mouth. Your teeth knock into each other for a second. Leon loves it. Reminds him of his first kiss, and his dick swells up in his pants. “Lee,” you whisper against his lips, and Leon missed that nickname but he still cringes, cups your face with one hand, uses his thumb to try to clean some of your makeup up. “Want you to be Daddy tonight.” 

Leon can do that. 

────

You like to call Leon Daddy, and he gets it. Understands the appeal, because anytime he sees a woman over thirty with big tits he wants to call them Mommy. There’s something comforting about choosing your own authority figure - to just relax, turn your brain off, have someone else make all the rules for you. 

Leon wouldn’t consider himself dominant. Sometimes he worries he’s only two porn categories away from having a foot fetish, truth be told, because he just likes the feeling of someone else taking control.

And, because he paid for your pedicure last month and you let him look at your toes close up to see where his hard earned government money went. You're so sexy to him, you bring out new fetishes - and Leon thinks that's beautiful.

He loves your bratty behavior. Loves that you tease him about his drinking habits and his porn addiction and his age, loves that you disregard his needs unless you need something from him, like cash to get your nails done or to buy something dumb at the mall. He’s pretty sure that even with all the money you make, he’s the one solely funding your coffee habit. You’re selfish, and rude, but you’re so hot and you’re so young and Leon likes that about you. Loves that he can take care of you, be your Daddy, someone you trust and look up to - even when he bends to every single whim you have, and sometimes feels like your bitch boy more than anything else. 

Your dynamic gives him a chance to be the pathetic loser he wants while also tricking him into thinking of himself like a winner. Because yeah, you might wear his balls around your neck because even when you don’t sleep in his bed, he lets you keep your stuffed animals in his bed all night with him just in case you come in there if you have a nightmare, but you’re dumb enough and sexy enough that everytime he gets a chance to play with you he feels like the man. Other men can only dream of living the kind of life he lives with you, and for the first time, Leon really does feel like he’s a winner. 

He’s such a loser. 

You wanna be babied tonight? Leon will do that. He carries you to his bedroom, eats up the way you compliment his big, strong arms, is supposed to be in charge but you tell him exactly what to do. How you want him to fuck you, how many fingers you want him to use when he opens you up, if he’s allowed to give you any hickeys (no, and it’s just a slap in the face at this point because Leon’s never marked you up - but you’ve done it to him, make it impossible for him to get laid by anyone else). 

“Daddy,” you say, when Leon gently takes your clothes off, positions himself between your legs and softly licks up your slit. You’re not even wet yet, which means this Daddy thing is more than just sexual for you. Truth be told, Leon did always figure you had no relationship, or a strained one with your father. On Father’s Day this year, you did a 24-hour broadcast on your camming account, and Leon’s pretty sure any woman doing that has daddy issues that run bone deep. 

But who’s he to judge? Imagining that he’s your father can get his dick so hard, sometimes he can literally cum without touching himself. 

“Yeah, baby,” Leon assures, licking your pussy and running a finger lightly around your clit, teasing before he drags his finger down and pushes it inside of you. Your back arches off the bed like it feels so fucking good, and maybe it does, but Leon doesn’t know how it compares when he knows you shove ten inch dildos in your pussy on camera. He’s bought you one before. “Daddy’s here.”

“Fuck me,” you say, like you changed your mind about the foreplay. You’re wet enough now that Leon doesn’t feel bad for fucking you without getting you all properly good and wet, so he positions himself on top of you, spits in his hand and rubs it on the tip of his aching hard dick, because yeah, he’s already that turned on, has a hero complex and the fact that you were all over him with tears, well - he's a cop for a reason.

And then he pushes his dick inside of you, and you cry and scratch his back so hard that he hisses - but he knows he just stretched your tight little cunt out without much warning. It's what you wanted though, what you demanded from him, right?

“Tell me something sweet,” you beg, and Leon looks down at you, taken aback. You’re always the flirty one in bed - saying filthy, sexy things. Bending yourself into crazy positions, but right now you really seem upset. Maybe you’re more emotionally disturbed than Leon thought. Maybe you really do have problems that lead you to live this kind of lifestyle. Maybe Leon’s a worse guy than he thought -

But you being so vulnerable is making his balls tighten, much faster than usual, and he fucks you so brutal and so rough and the only sweet thing he can think of really isn’t that sweet at all. 

“Perfect little slut,” he manages to say, pulling out so he doesn’t cum inside of you. "You make a real pretty cumrag." If you’re filming tomorrow, he feels bad about giving you a creampie - doesn't know if you can get it all out in time to get a close up of your pussy. Not fair to you. So he pulls his dick out before he can cum, jerks himself off for a second before he busts his nut all over your sweet little stomach and that sexy belly button ring. He’ll help you properly clean it when you're both done. 

Leon sucks. He didn’t get you off. Came in about five minutes. But - 

“Lick the cum off. Finish me off,” you whine, so Leon does, licks his own seed off of your stomach, your skin warm and soft under his tongue. To be honest, he doesn’t taste that bad, which makes sense why you’re so obsessed with sucking his dick. Protein powder for the win again, he supposes. Leon cleans you off, and then he licks you out. You cum from his tongue pressed hard in your hole, his thumb circling your clit. 

He’s Daddy, so he carries you to the bath and lets you tease him about being a grown man in a pink bubble bath. It’s your bath bomb that you're both using, but, yup, you guessed it - Leon likes the humiliation. Dick half hard and pressing into your back while you two relax together and raise the cost of his water bill. You love your baths. Take one almost every day.

“You feel better?” He asks, rubbing up and down your soft thigh. Leon kisses your head. 

“Yeah,” you say, a little happier than before. “I really like you, Leon. You take such good care of me. You’d make a really good boyfriend.” You’re silent, while Leon absorbs the compliment that gets rid of about two years of emotional trauma inside of him. Then you break the silence. 

“Why’d you tell those guys you were my dad?” You giggle, and Leon shrugs. He’s embarrassed, because he doesn’t even know himself. “First thing I thought of,” he admits, and you lean back against his chest. All is right in the world. Until - 

“Don’t get mad, Leon, but,” and then you tell him. You tell him the truth. 

That you’ve secretly been filming every single time you've had sex with him. You explain that it gets the highest views, and you always crop out his face, and now that people know he’s your dad they’ll probably tell the internet forums, because after all, you are a very popular creator. So it works out, you say, that Leon pretended to be your dad today. People online are into that kind of shit, you tell him, and pretty please don’t be mad. 

Leon, he’s - he doesn’t even know. Doesn’t even know what to fucking say. You’ve been secretly filming him fucking you, putting it online and - 

That’s a crime. That’s literally a fucking crime. Men go to jail for that sort of thing. For a long time. Leon is speechless. He feels betrayed. Violated. Even worse, you pocketed all the money you got from those videos?

You must take his lack of talking to mean he's not mad. So you start lathering yourself in soap, chatting about the pink flip phone you want Leon to buy you, one you saw on eBay a few weeks ago, so you can get one to match his artifacts. Leon wants the bath to swallow him down the drain. 

“I,” he says, pulling away from you just slightly. “I don’t,” he can’t form a thought. “No.” But he says it like a question. “You know that’s illegal, don’t you? I could lose my job.”

And then you turn to him, eyes big, the makeup almost all washed off after crying. Your lips are in a pout, and you rub your ass against his cock. You're manipulative, Leon sees it now. You're smarter than you look, and Leon feels queasy and...a little scared?

“Daddy,” you say, and he guesses you're back to that now. You know how to play him. Forget selling pictures of your body - you need to make a fucking online course to teach women how to get away with murder.

“Please?” Another pause, and you lick your lips like you’re thinking and it makes Leon want to groan. “I mean, if you told anyone, they’d know it was you. Plus, if you really did get fired, we could probably just make more videos for more money. It’s not a big deal.”

Leon feels like he hates you a little bit. Feels like he walked into a trap, a prison with his eyes closed, and now he's stuck.

But somehow, by the end of the bath - Leon steps out with his dick painfully hard, dries the both of you off, and pulls his phone out while you cuddle up to him in bed. He buys you the phone you asked for, all while you read the comments and requests from your viewers and subscribers out loud to him. 

“Put your dad in panties,” you read, literally throwing your head back in a laugh. Leon is red in the face, but the truth is?

He’s never been so hard. 

And he’s pretty sure you do have access to his porn history - 

How’d you know his favorite category was Blackmail?

[kvnstwerk]

Heavenly Creatures

Pairing: Altar Boy! Leon Kennedy x Catholic School Girl! Reader

Summary: Growing up in a conservative, Catholic community, you and Leon were kept apart as kids for your own good. However, a fateful encounter at church many years later causes you to question those boundaries.

Content & Warnings: 18+ Smut, porn with plot, unprotected p in v, oral (m & f receiving), rimming (f receiving), semi-public sex (church), Catholicism, religious imagery & symbolism, temptation, guilt, shaming, name-calling, growing up, smoking, swearing, romance, fluff, secret relationship.

Author's Note: Leon and Reader are in senior high and 18 when smut happens. No guarantee that you won’t burn in hell after reading this 🔥😂

Special thanks to AliBelleRosetta for being my sounding board + shadesoflsk & Cameron for your helpful feedback.

Title from Heavenly Creatures by Wolf Alice.

AO3 Link

Snake. Devil. Satan’s spawn.

Those were the names you had grown accustomed to as a child. You didn’t know why you were called them, instead of the one your parents had given you. You were too little to understand. All you knew was that you were made to feel different. Maybe you were really an anomaly from the rest after all.

Instead of being quiet and shy, you were loud and boisterous. It was natural for you, seeing as you were going through your tomboy phase, which was the exact reason your parents had stuck to when they received complaints about your behavior. They laughed it off, while others reined their daughters in, forcing them into perfect Sunday dresses, braided hair adorned with pastel ribbons and clean, black Mary Jane shoes. Good enough to fit into a pretty gift box with wrapping paper. But you would tear it all down, before anyone could lay a finger on you.

Growing up in a place where other children were told to shun you was difficult at first. But then, you learnt to play by yourself and relish in the power of make believe. You climbed trees, rolled in the mud and ran through the forest fending off imaginary monsters. Sometimes, when you bumped into other groups of boys who threw stones and made fun of you, you fought back, further earning the title of crazy witch! Who needed these idiots anyway? You were your own best company.

One day, you sat in your disheveled, cream cotton dress, swinging your legs from a tree in your front lawn as usual. It overlooked the suburban neighborhood street, giving you a bird’s eye view of your surroundings. You noticed a family of three strolling along the sidewalk, though the couple gave you a disapproving look as they walked past, and whispered to their little, adolescent boy. They thought they were being so discreet, but you could hear every single word they were saying.

“Don’t pay attention to her. She’s bad news.”

Regardless of this remark, the boy gave in to his curiosity and as he peered up, you held his wide-eyed gaze. His irises were azure in color, glowing as it caught the early dusk light from different angles, shifting across a stunning spectrum of bluish, iridescent hues. You were captivated by them, and as you continued staring, his cheeks turned rosy red, though it seemed like he could not break away from you either. That moment was abruptly cut short, as his father smacked the back of his head, chiding his son for disobeying him.

“Come along now, Leon.” The older man wrapped an arm around the boy’s shoulders, turning him away from your direction.

Leon. So, that was his name. As you watched them turn the corner at the end of the street and head off, you wondered if and when you’d see him again.

━━━━━━━━━━━

Leon had heard the stories passed around about you. His parents had often commented about your family as being one of those ‘weird, hippy types’. Frankly, this didn’t scare him, but rather, it fascinated him. They made you appear like something he had read in a book about myths and legends, and he wanted to see if it was real.

The next time he went out to play in the field, he walked by your place again on purpose, even though it would have been the longer route. As he had predicted, you were up in the tree again, lounging across its branches with your eyes closed, like a slithery snake basking in the sun. Your dress was stained with grass and dirt, and your feet were soiled and filthy. Twigs poked out haphazardly from your knotted, messy hair. 

You looked like a creature of sorts, alright, he thought.

He inched towards the base of the tree trunk gingerly, trying not to stir the sleeping beast. But as he got closer, he accidentally stepped into a pile of dead leaves, which crunched underfoot. 

You roused from your slumber then, rubbing your eyes as you stretched your arms out with a lazy yawn. He flinched when you looked downwards at him, as if you might strike out, but you just smiled and said, “Hi.”

He was confused then. From the descriptions of you, he had expected you to breathe fire and gnash your teeth at him fiercely, but you were just a normal girl. He gave you a puzzled look, nodding as he greeted you with a stutter, “Hi… I-I’m, uh, Leon.”

“I know.” You grinned.

“You do?” He looked astounded, as if you’d conducted some dark ritual to find out.

You picked up on this and teased him, wiggling your fingers as you mouthed, “Magic…”

He laughed, relaxing his stiff shoulders and asking you for your name. He’d only known you until now as that girl, or one of those nicknames people gave you out of spite.

You introduced yourself and offered him a half-eaten apple you had munched on before napping on the tree. He hesitated at first, regarding it as if it were a forbidden fruit, but eventually he reached out for it. Gratefully, he bit in, savoring the flavorful burst of its juicy flesh.

“Do you go to church?” He asked suddenly, out of the blue.

Shielding your eyes from the afternoon sun with your hand, you squinted at him. “Yeah, why?”

“Oh.” He paused, considering his next words, though he blurted out with unfiltered honesty, “Well, my dad said that demons can’t enter hallowed ground.”

“I’m not a demon,” you huffed indignantly.

“No, you aren’t,” he agreed, waving his hands in the air apologetically, trying to salvage the situation. “I think you’re nice, actually.” His face was warm and pink again.

“I think you’re nice too.”

And it continued on like this. Some days, he’d pop over to visit and speak with you from below the tree, when he was sure no one was watching. Until a day came where he wasn’t as careful, and was spotted by a concerned neighbor, who ratted him out to his parents. 

You were sad that he wasn’t allowed to see you again, but you’d grown used to being alone for most of your childhood, so you tried to put it behind you and move on, unaware that he’d often look out for you at each week’s Sunday Mass.

━━━━━━━━━━━

A number of years passed, and you filled out into your own body. You were in your senior year of an all-girls Catholic high school, and had recently turned 18. Reaching womanhood also meant that you became acutely aware of the changes in the way society treated you now, as compared to the opposite sex. Heads turned as you stalked around with one of the more unruly cliques in your school. Instead of being name-called after otherworldly creatures, you were reduced to bitch, slut, or whore. 

People hated what they couldn’t understand or control. You’d been giving the nuns a hard time by asking controversial questions about the biblical text you were meant to study and recite blindly. Detention was nothing new to you and your friends, whom you’d been caught smoking cigarettes together with on school grounds. You were a rebel at heart, and the rest of the law-abiding community wanted to crush that and make you conform.

Leon, on the other hand, had been going to the all-boys school next door, which shared a brother school relationship with yours. He was in the same year and age as you, though being a man meant he had the privilege of getting away with certain things you couldn’t. Even there, your name wasn’t safe from being circulated around the rumor mill. You were the subject of boys’ locker room talk. They associated you with the ‘bad girl’ crowd, highlighting your love for reading banned books and boasting about supposed sexual escapades with you. 

“She’ll do favors,” they said, making vulgar gestures by moving their fist back and forth in front of their mouth, while poking their tongue against their cheek.

Leon slammed his locker door shut and stormed off. It made him uncomfortable that they gossiped about you that way, but he was even more ashamed of the fact that he made no effort to stand up for you. He hardly knew you, but it didn’t take a genius to figure out that what they were doing was finding a scapegoat to blame. That, unfortunately, time and time again, happened to be you.

Most of the students there were sexually active anyway, but no one had complained about them. As long as one kept things on the down-low and upheld a certain moralistic façade, they were considered as ‘innocent’, ‘pure’, or ‘normal’ even. For one, he was pretty sure that his father was having an affair with the church choir mistress, but that seemed to go overlooked. 

Everyone’s such hypocrites, he pondered, frowning in distaste. Including himself. Although he liked to think that he was brave and courageous, in actuality, he was afraid of rocking the boat. Fitting in was more important, just as his parents had taught him from a young age. It was the side of him that he hated the most, but could not get rid of.

Gathering his belongings, he left school and hurried off. He’d been requested last-minute to serve at Mass that evening, as one of the other altar boys had fallen ill. At church, he exchanged his school uniform for the standard black cassock and white surplice, before starting with the Introductory Rites.

You, on the other hand, had been singled out along with a bunch of other troublesome girls to attend Evening Mass with the Mother Superior that day. It was just your luck that you had to devote an hour of your time to a set of outdated rituals and prayers, with the aim of reflecting upon your sins. The most frustrating part of this exercise was that all of you were placed in the front row pews, so there was no chance of daydreaming or dozing off in front of the priest. You’d never been much of a believer, but sometimes you did speculate if God was watching your every move from above.

As you stood up for the entrance procession, which signaled the start of Mass, a familiar mop of dirty blonde hair and dazzling blue eyes passed by. You’d recognize that anywhere, but it was a wonder how you hadn’t realized that he was serving as an altar boy all this while. Maybe your Mass timings hadn’t aligned? Or maybe you just never paid much attention in church. You’d only seen him here and there when he attended Mass with his family as part of the congregation, but you ignored him back then, because you didn’t want to remember the feeling of losing the closest thing you had to a friend in your pre-teen days.

When Leon turned around to face the congregation for the greeting, he gulped as he saw you, standing almost directly in front of him as both of you made the Sign of the Cross. Speak of the devil, he muttered internally, before chastising himself for unintentionally insulting you and shook that thought away.

You gave him a coy smile as he scampered off to where he was meant to be stationed. For the first time in a while, you took the chance to admire his chiseled features and how much he had grown. He had always been attractive, but he was no longer the little boy you used to know, and instead now a fine, young man, in an even finer religious attire. Puberty did him good, you mused.

All at once, a mischievous plan flashed across your mind as you plotted how to win his attention. It would be an entertaining way to pass the time in this mundane institution. Viewing the school uniform as yet another means for the authorities to curb people’s freedom and creative expression, you had a habit of violating the dress code by making minor adjustments to it. Whether it was shortening the hem of your skirt or wearing below the ankle socks, you went for it. And today was no exception.

You waited until it was time to be seated before attempting to catch his gaze. Within a few minutes, he sneaked a peek your way and you stifled a laugh. Bingo. As you continued looking straight at him, you stretched your legs out cautiously, so as not to alert the Mother Superior, who sat beside you, to your antics. His eyes widened and flickered, as you showed off their length, rotating your ankles in small circles languidly. The other altar boys started to take note and whispered in hushed tones amongst themselves. But you only had eyes for Leon, scrutinizing him like a hawk, as you bared your teeth with a sly grin plastered across your face.

It was only a matter of time before the Mother Superior rapped you on the legs with a thin, wooden cane she carried around for doling out such punishments. The other girls in your row giggled as you returned your legs to a respectable position, disregarding the smarting pain that had accompanied the blow. 

It was worth it, you reasoned, spotting Leon’s lopsided smile, as he turned away to hide his blush.

This soon carried on like an unspoken game between you and Leon. You’d attend Mass whenever he was serving as an altar boy, and he’d look out for you, exchanging glances like a secret code shared between the two of you. A sense of thrill arose within him each time, as to what you’d try next. If only he knew what you were capable of.

At some point, you grew bolder. During the Holy Communion, where Leon had been helping the priest to hold the patina under the chins of those who received the Sacred host, you made sure once again to make eye contact with him the whole way through. Your mouth was slightly agape, as you extended your tongue, clasping your hands together in a pious prayer position. When the priest placed the host in your mouth, you swallowed it suggestively, licking your upper lip for a finishing touch. Leon nearly stumbled over backwards as his face turned bright red like a tomato. The last thing he heard was your silvery laughter, and you returned to your seat as if nothing had happened. You had ensnared him now.

When Mass ended, you slipped him a note, asking him to meet you at the confessional when everyone else had been ushered out. You knelt in the penitent compartment, waiting for him to arrive, confident that he would show up. A few minutes later, you heard someone enter the booth where the priest usually sat.

“Bless me, Father, for I have sinned,” you began. Through the latticed screen, you could just about make out Leon’s face as he chuckled.

“What are you playing at?”

“You tell me,” you challenged, testing the waters. “I haven’t received any complaints.”

“Well, I have a question,” he mentioned quietly. “Do you still remember when we hung out back then? At the tree.”

There was pang in your heart, as you recalled your childhood memories. “Of course, you were the only one who bothered to speak to me.”

You pursed your lips before taking the plunge. “I really appreciated that.”

There was a momentary pause, as he took your words in. “I wish they didn’t separate us.”

“It isn’t too late to start over.” It was humiliating how eager you sounded. No matter how much you tried to repress it, you yearned to rekindle that connection you had with him once.

“Listen, I like you,” he admitted, sighing heavily. “But, I can’t go public with this. My parents-”

“Who says it has to be public?” You retorted defensively. 

His heartfelt confession emboldened you, yet a part of you felt dejected that this was the best option he could offer. However, you didn’t want to concede without giving it a shot.

He made a noise which sounded like he was in disbelief. “You mean-”

“Shall I come over and show you?” You interrupted, already getting up before he could answer.

“Y-yeah,” he stammered. “I-I’d like that, I guess.”

Exiting your compartment, you stepped out and swiftly went over to where he was, closing the door behind you. It was crammed and stuffy in this tiny box with two people, but beggars couldn’t be choosers. Giving him a once-over, it struck you that he was still in his altar boy attire and perhaps what you were about to do was wrong on so many levels, but you brushed those thoughts aside.

“Um-”

Before he could speak any further, you ran your hands up along his chest and planted your lips onto his, soft and pillowy in texture. He let out a low moan, easing into your embrace as he kissed back, holding onto the back of your head for better leverage. His tongue grazed across your lips and you parted them in response, allowing it to slip inside as you tasted each other. Grabbing the collar of his cassock, you pressed your bodies together heatedly. You sucked on his tongue, eliciting another moan from his throat, as you shuffled him around, pushing his back against the wooden wall with a loud thud. Both of you had lost yourselves in a whirlwind of kisses, oblivious to the outside world and the ruckus you were making.

However, it was hard to ignore the hymn that was being sung when the next Mass started. Leon froze, before pulling away hastily. His mouth was red and swollen, and a pearly string of saliva connected it with yours.

“Shit, we lost track of time,” he panted. 

If you didn’t want to be seen, you’d need to remain where you were until the Mass ended. In other words, both of you were trapped here for at least another hour. 

Not being one to let such matters ruin the vibe, you responded, “That’s not a problem for me.” Trailing a lone finger down Leon’s body seductively, you let it come to rest above the growing bulge in his cassock.

“Are you serious?” He breathed, as you cupped your hand around it, palming him through his clothes.

“You got a better idea?” You murmured in his ear, squeezing his erection a little as you continued rubbing against it.

“Don’t get me wrong, it feels amazing.” His voice was strained as he spoke. “But, it’s just…”

“Catholic guilt?” You teased.

“Yeah, probably.” He nodded sheepishly.

“Well, maybe if we get you out of this thing.” You gestured to his attire. “You might relax into it more.”

“Makes sense,” he agreed, tugging the surplice over his head and discarding it to the ground. “Though it never really goes away, does it?”

You shrugged, shaking your head. “I still get it, but it’s less of an issue now.” It made you follow up with a question of your own. “Does that mean I’m a bad person?”

His eyes crinkled as he grinned. “You're doing it again.”

“Hm?”

“Guilt,” he indicated. “But to answer your question, no, I don’t think you’re a bad person.”

“Doesn’t matter anyway.” You tried to deflect the topic, knowing the rumors that people spread about you. Leon had probably heard it all. “At least there’s still hope for you.”

“Thanks?”

“Don’t thank me yet.” You winked, removing the sash from his cassock as he unbuttoned the rest of it, revealing a plain white shirt and a pair of shorts underneath.

He snickered as you clucked your tongue at the sight. “What did you expect me to do? Go Commando?”

“Would’ve been hot,” you pointed out.

Leon had always been perceptive. From your interactions, he began to suspect that sometimes you relied on lighthearted banter as a way to mask your nervousness and other underlying emotions.

Nestling his fingers under your chin, he turned you towards him. “You sure about this?”

“Mm hm.” It was sweet of him to check in. Most guys never offered you the same courtesy. “Been thinking about it since Communion,” you added brazenly.

He snorted as you gave him a quick peck on the lips. Working your way down, you kissed his clothed body, pulling the waistband of his underwear and shorts to his ankles. Kneeling before him, you reached for his cock, smearing beads of his precum carelessly along his velvety skin, while you pumped his hot shaft slowly.

He inhaled sharply, snapping his eyes shut, as he tilted his head back in pleasure. In the background, you could hear the priest’s sermon droning on.

With a smug smile, you warned, “Do me a favor and try to keep it down, will you?”

Before he had a chance to react, you filled your mouth with his cock, sliding all the way down its hardened length.

“Jesus,” he groaned.

Instantly, you released it with a pop and tutted in mock disappointment, “Taking the Lord’s name in vain?”

“We’re so going to hell for this,” he laughed faintly, tangling his hands in your hair.

“Ah-” He gasped again, as you held onto the base of his cock, lifting it to flatten your tongue on its underside. Slathering it with saliva, you took his balls into your wet mouth, one at a time, sucking on them delectably. “Fuck!”

“Don’t you ever shut up?” You joked.

“Not if you keep doing what you’re doing, angel.”

Angel. That was a new one. You’d never been called that before, but you liked the sound of it.

Wrapping your lips around his cock, you started a steady rhythm, bobbing your head up and down his shaft. Each time you came up, you flicked your tongue at the tip, licking it as you stared up at him. His eyes flew open, gazing at you with lust and arousal while you sucked him off more vigorously.

Sliding his cock in deeper, you allowed it to hit the back of your throat, causing you to make a guttural noise. Clenching his fist, he bit down hard on his knuckles to stop himself from crying out. If this was hell, he’d stay right here with you. He couldn’t think straight anymore, as he bucked his hips forward in response.

Grabbing his ass, your fingernails left crescent shaped indents on his skin, as you let him fuck your mouth to chase his high. Tears lined your eyelashes and sweat poured down your brow. It had gotten incredibly hot and humid in this enclosed space. But his muted moans only served to turn you on even more. You wondered how perverse and trashy you looked in this position, though Leon could only mumble the opposite in his feverish state.

Soon, he tensed and quivered while hissing through gritted teeth, “God, I’m gonna cum.”

Lady Luck appeared to be on your side, as the congregation were in the middle of singing another hymn, which inadvertently muffled whatever sounds were coming from the confessional. He struggled to hold in his groans as you felt a thick, salty load of his cum wash up against your throat. You choked a bit before swallowing it whole.

Collapsing backwards, you leaned against the cool surface of the seat behind you, wiping the edges of your mouth. Tucking his spent dick back under his clothes, he sank down beside you, kissing you gently and tasting himself on your lips. 

“You ok?” He brushed his thumb along your cheek.

You nodded silently and smiled, contemplating if there would be a future to what you had with him now.

“I ruined you,” he jested, showering you with kisses along your jawline.

“As if.” You rolled your eyes, but deep down, you knew it was the truth.

And, just like he had read your mind, he uttered the magic words, “So, when will I see you again?”

━━━━━━━━━━━

Since the encounter at the confessional, you continued your clandestine meetings with Leon, just like back in the old days, except both of you were now wiser in covering your tracks. In public, you pretended not to know each other, yet shared furtive, longing glances when you were in the same vicinity. Sometimes, he would make an excuse to brush past you, his touch ghosting across the curve of your spine, your shoulders, the back of your hand to the tip of your pinkie finger. Away from prying eyes, you hooked up passionately, damning each other further to hell. How many levels were there again? You’d lost count.

You enjoyed the moments spent with him. The aftercare and cuddling. The long talks into the night. You understood each other somehow, it wasn’t like this with other people. So, if the Day of Judgment arrived, why would God not sympathize with you both?

Despite that, neither of you had put a label on where you stood with each other. How did this secret relationship work? If you were found out, would he ditch you like before? Would you be thrown under the bus, so that he could be purified again? It wasn’t long until insecurity reared its ugly head, gnawing at you from within.

Leon sensed something was off as you lay in his arms, naked while he spooned you in the back seat of his car, parked along a desolate dirt path near the forest. You had that pensive look on your face, like you were in a world of your own, one where he couldn’t enter.

Pulling you close to him, he kissed the top of your shoulder, coaxing you out of your reverie. “Wanna talk about it?”

You hummed noncommittally. After a long pause, you asked, “Are you embarrassed by me?”

He was caught off-guard by the question and his breathing stilled. “No,” he argued. “Why would you think that?”

“I’m just tired of hiding,” you sighed. “It’s like I’m making you do something bad.”

There was a brief ache in his chest, as guilt swelled up like a wave. Coward, an inner voice spat.

Carding his fingers through your hair, he pressed his lips against the temple of your head. “You make me feel like the best version of myself.”

“Hm.” You pinched your lips together, wanting to believe him, but you weren’t convinced.

He observed this, but decided not to press the issue any further, knowing that you needed action, not words.

She’ll be your downfall. A surly voice piped up within him, like fire and brimstone. He shook it off, ignoring the moral tug-of-war that had occurred once he made that statement, as he vowed to prove himself to you in the coming days.

━━━━━━━━━━━

The next time you’d agreed to meet was in church, after the very last Mass of the day. He was serving as an altar boy again, and you were intrigued as to whether he had planned to reenact the entire confessional scene or switch it up with something new, like making you go through the Stations of the Cross while fucking you. You giggled at the idea, only to be shushed by a fellow parishioner, whom you had disturbed in meditative prayer.

When Mass ended and everyone except yourself had left the nave, you waited patiently for him in the pews. After a while, you felt a tap on your shoulder and turned around to face Leon, who had changed into his casual clothes. As you got to your feet, he cupped the sides of your face in his hands, closing the distance, and bringing your lips to meet his in a fervent kiss. You were slightly taken aback by his initiation, since he was usually the shyer one out of the two of you.

Claiming your hand in his, he led you to the front, where the altar stood before the austere crucifix that hung from the wall. He smirked, noticing the look of shock and incredulity on your face, as it gradually began to dawn on you what he had in mind. However, he was anxious too, you could tell from the way his hand was trembling. He was sealing his fate, and you were both going down together. Nothing could bring you back after this ultimate act of blasphemy.

At the foot of the altar, he caressed his lips against yours. “I guess God is our witness now.”

Leaning in, you found yourselves consumed in a lip lock, which deepened with each passing second as you helped each other out of your clothes, kicking them off unceremoniously to the side. He spun you around, bending you forward against the smooth, marble top of the altar. The cold surface caused your nipples to harden and goosebumps to form on your skin. You shivered as he spread your legs wider apart and knelt down, holding your thighs as he licked a firm stripe along your silken folds. 

As he continued to lap at the sensitive flesh, he brought a hand towards your clit, stroking it softly with his middle finger. You jerked from the sensation, whimpering as he alternated between thrusting his tongue into your heat and suckling it with his lips. There was a slight pressure as you felt one of his fingers sliding into your pussy, already soaked with arousal. At the same time, his tongue trailed up towards your rim, teasing it with long, flat licks.

“Oh my god!” You gasped, gripping the edge of the altar, as an electrifying tingle coursed through your veins.

There was a playful smack on your ass. “Forgotten the Third Commandment already?” Leon scolded.

“Huh?”

“Taking the Lord’s name in vain,” he mimicked your tone from when you had teased him at the confessional.

“Ugh,” you whined. “I’m sure this is the least of our concerns.”

You felt his hot breath against your asshole before he dipped his tongue in lightly. Simultaneously, he pumped your pussy, pushing in another finger and stretching you out, before his tongue went back to circling around your rim, inciting a string of moans from your mouth.

“Feeling good?”

“Mm, yes,” you replied hoarsely. “But when are you going to fuck me?”

He coughed out a laugh at your bluntness, before imparting a piece of unsolicited advice. “Patience is a virtue.”

You groaned at his quip. “Really, Leon? Are you-”

He interrupted rudely, pressing his hand on your back as he entered you, burying his cock deep into your cunt. You nearly screamed in ecstasy as he pounded his hips against your ass repeatedly, already setting a brutal pace from the beginning. Maybe you should’ve been careful of what you wished for.

“What was that again?” He taunted.

You growled, clenching your jaw as you felt his dick dragging against your sensitive walls. The lewd sound of skin slapping against skin echoed across the space. Your mind fogged up in an insatiable haze as you pushed back rhythmically against his thrusting, allowing him to penetrate you further, and taking pleasure in how his head brushed against your cervix with each stroke.

“So close,” you rasped, your core tightening as if it was about to burst.

At this, he pulled away briefly, flipping you over as he lifted you onto the altar top. He had a bruising grip around your thighs, which you wrapped around his waist instinctively, interlocking your ankles behind his back to draw him closer. Bewitched, he took a moment to drink in the divine sight of your flushed, moist body, supple and wanting in his arms, before kissing you sloppily on the mouth. Pressing his forehead against yours, he asserted, “You don’t know what you do to me, angel.”

With that, he rutted into you relentlessly, your breasts bouncing as you clung to the back of his neck, crying out in rapture. When you finally snapped, a glimmer from the gold cross necklace he wore daily flashed before your eyes. You looped your index finger around it, tugging at it as you peered up at the bleeding face of Christ looking down at you ominously from the crucifix. The last remains of the day’s light filtered through the stained glass behind him, casting a kaleidoscope of mottled colors across your bodies, the altar and the stone floor, like a disease.

You realized you had tempted Leon beyond salvation. But in spite of it, he had followed you willingly. This was the proof he had wanted to show you. You were the angel he would desecrate everything for. He’d cut your wings off so you’d be his and stay.

His cock throbbed with desire as he rode you through your orgasm. As he neared the edge, he pulled out, finishing himself off. Nuzzling his face into your neck, he murmured a mixture of curses and professions against your skin, while spurting hot white cum over the mound of your pussy. Holding onto the marbled structure for support, he bent over you, placing tender kisses on your eyes and your lips.

It seemed as if he had turned his back on God and worshiped you now. But instead of a guilty conscience, you felt nothing but love. Silently, both of you cleaned up and got dressed. He delicately reattached the butterfly clip that had come loose in your hair, while you wiped away the lipstick that had smudged onto his face. There would be no signs of what had transpired, except he had another surprise lined up for you. 

Upon exiting the church doors, Leon took your hand, lacing his fingers through yours, as you walked out onto the street together. You were his - he’d show you off to the whole damn world without shame.

[kvnstwerk]

Room for One More

pairing: leon kennedy x fem!reader x chris redfield

summary: months ago, chris let his apprentice slip through his fingers when she transferred to the d.s.o. to work with leon kennedy. now the three of them have been sent on a mission together and are forced to share a hotel room.

cw: nsfw (18+), smut, threesome, p in v, oral sex (f and m recieving), face-sitting, exhibitionism, age gap (early 20s, late 30s), jealousy, light angst

word count: 9.2k

a/n: had this in my drafts since february let's go. hope you guys like it <3

You and Leon were so fucking annoying.

Irritating, aggravating, infuriating pains in his ass. That’s all Chris could think while speeding down the road, his knuckles white from their tight grip on the steering wheel. The three of you were all supposed to be professionals for god’s sake. He shouldn’t have to deal with the two of you acting no better than a couple of horny teenagers during a fucking mission.

It was constant. The giggling and gasping, soft whines of “Leon stoppppp.” And he could hear Leon’s stupid fucking smirk when he chuckled and kept doing whatever was causing you to squirm around with him in the back seat. If he had to sit through much more of this, he was pretty sure he’d end up plowing the car into a nearby tree and putting himself out of his misery.

Chris glanced in the rearview mirror. Darkness engulfed the car right now, making it hard to clearly see what his ‘partners’ were up to. All he could really make out was that Leon’s head had been in the crook of your neck but was now tilted upwards to capture you in a kiss. The only thing keeping him sane was the miniscule light in the distance. The small reminder that he wouldn’t be stuck in the car with the sounds of saliva swapping forever. He lets out a deep sigh and shakes his head, trying to will himself to just tune the aggravation out. But as the minutes pass by, each wet smack of lips grates on his nerves more and more.

“Can you two cut it out back there? I’m trying to focus,” he says. His harsh stare remains on the road ahead.

He hears your bodies briefly untangling as his words pierce the bubble you had created for yourselves. Leon is the first to respond.

“Our mistake, Redfield. Didn’t know it was such a challenge to go twenty-five miles an hour on an empty road,” he remarks. Again, Chris’s blood boils as he senses that self-satisfied expression taking over the other man’s features.

Your light slap to Leon’s bicep sounds through the car’s interior. “Sorry, Chris. We’ll keep it down,” you apologize.

In contrast to your boyfriend, your tone rings genuine. You sounded almost a little embarrassed by Chris calling out your antics. Your soft voice drifting to his ears actually softens him a tad. He knew the expression you wore now too. How your eyes were fixed on the DSO agent, giving him the glare you used when you wanted to seem firm. In reality, it came off as cute, like an angry kitten. And now Leon got to be the one to grin at you and shake his head, amused by your sweet face. He got to be in the position Chris let slip through his fingers months ago.

***

You’d been his first. Started out at the BSAA as his rookie. Your first day you’d been so bright-eyed, hopeful and ready to start out your career and face the world. He’d been reluctant to take on a trainee at first. It’s a lot of work with a 50/50 shot at reward, but the second he laid eyes on you, he knew the luck of the draw had worked in his favor.

You were the ideal apprentice. A great listener, eager to learn everything you could, and accepting of commands. Every day with you was a breeze. And besides the parts of you suited for your job, you were just generally pleasant to be around. He could joke with you, talk to you about damn near any subject. You were a great partner in the field too. At first, he’d been worried. A cute little thing like you taking on bioterrorists? He struggled to believe that would work out. As soon as he saw you in action though, you left no doubt that he’d been wrong. He became more taken with you upon seeing you act so capable. He realized that he felt a connection with you that he’d been lacking for so much of his life.

Unfortunately for him, he had these pesky things called ‘morals’ that prevented him from pursuing you. Every time he legitimately considered flirting or asking you out, the guilt gnawed at him, filling his mind with words of shame rather than anything that could charm you. No matter how he thought about it, he just couldn’t work out any way it would be right. Not only were you his subordinate, his rookie, you were nearly twenty years his junior too. You shouldn’t be wasting the prime of your life with some old man, so he cut off any hope of being more than a mentor to you.

About a year after he’d taken you on, the two of you were sent on that mission in Texas. It was simple, standard, routine. You and Chris were simply there to assist local police with the aftermath of a bioterror attack. Both of you were in the transport vehicle on the way to the site, and this was a rare occasion where he was pretty calm. He wasn’t tense or anxious, didn’t have any other motive than getting in and getting out. He was just enjoying the ride and watching your pretty face soak up the sunlight beaming through the window.

What he hadn’t been briefed on was the DSO’s involvement in the case. More specifically, a certain DSO agent’s presence. Apparently he’d been in the area on unrelated business and had been ordered to stop by in case your team needed assistance.

The two of you got out of the car and wandered through the remnants of the event. At first, Chris was happy to see him. It’d been a while, and he seemed to be in a better place than the last time they’d met. You seemed happy to see him too despite the fact that you’d never met before. Right then, Chris should’ve known it was over.

“Who’s that?” you asked with more interest than he felt was appropriate, leaning closer his muscular frame to keep your tone hushed.

He glanced down at you and raised his eyebrows, initially amused with the way you almost seemed in awe.

“Leon Kennedy. He’s with the DSO. Probably just here for some backup,” he informed you.

You nodded, and as you padded along behind Chris, your eyes remained locked on the agent in front of you. If he hadn’t been wrapped around your finger, it would have been obvious to him that you were developing a little crush. You became so bashful around Leon. Smiling up at him, batting your eyelashes like a cartoon character, following him around the scene like a puppy.

At the time, Chris thought that you were simply intrigued by the prestige of the DSO. Looking back, he couldn’t believe how clueless he’d been.

It was only six weeks later that you came to his office to notify him you were transferring agencies.

“What do you mean transferring? I’ve been training you to work here. I need you here,” Chris said.

Your eyes had cast down. Your body appeared to shrink in on itself. “I know. The BSAA is important and all, and I’ll always be grateful for what I learned here. It’s just that Leon said…”

And those last two words were all Chris heard.

“Leon said? What’s he know? He met you one time. He’s gonna try and tell you that you’re a better fit for the DSO?” he asked, probably coming off more interrogating than concerned, “You’re perfect for what we do here. The Agency hasn’t had someone with your propensity for research and field work in years.”

All his reasons paled in comparison to the hearts you had in your eyes for Leon. Chris ended the day by signing off on your transfer and watching you pack up your desk. You gave him a hug and tearful words of goodbye before walking out the translucent doors of the BSAA building.

The next time he saw you was another two months after that. He had to bring some files over to the DSO building. The only thing he was looking forward to about it was seeing how his rookie was adapting to her new position. He wasn’t prepared for the sharp pain in his chest when he saw your new position was on Leon’s lap.

Your eyes had gone wide. You shot up off the other man’s thighs to try and act as if you two were merely two agents and nothing more. Chris wasn’t fooled, but he kept his composure even in the face of Leon’s obvious amusement. He had no real place to get mad at you. It’s not like you were throwing your career away; you still held a respectable position at a federal government agency. You hadn’t betrayed him either. The relationship between you and him had actually just been professional. He had no claim on you that could keep Leon away. The only thing Chris had to be angry about was the fact that you were going to spend the prime of your life with some guy over a decade older than you. It just wasn’t gonna be him.

***

The collection of lights down the road were getting closer now. You and Leon had settled down enough to make the last fifteen minutes of this trip bearable. Chris glances around the small, misty town the road was leading into. It was pretty desolate and old-fashioned. Everything was tinted orange from the dated street lamps lining the road. Buildings were mostly bricks except for the upcoming motel which looked primarily wooden. It would’ve been eerie if he wasn’t so exhausted.

He pulled into the parking lot of the place and stopped the car. Turning around in his seat to talk to you and Leon, he tries not to roll his eyes at how the younger man has you tucked to his side while you show him something on your phone.

Chris clears his throat. Leon’s eyes meet his, still smug from the earlier exchange. He can’t be mad though because you look up at him in earnest, ready to do what needs to be done.

“The target isn’t going to be passing through until tomorrow. How would the two of you feel about staying here for the night?” he asks.

Fortunately, you and Leon seem to want to rest for a while just as much as he does so there’s no pushback.

Chris steps out of the car into the brisk air. He heads across the way into the small lobby of the motel to grab a room. You and your boyfriend handle getting the small bags you were allowed to take on missions out of the car.

“Cold out here, baby,” Leon mumbles as he pulls you flush against his chest and plants some kisses down your neck.

“Mhm. And you’re making me shiver more,” you say as you still try to collect the bags.

He chuckles at your little joke and nips at the warm flesh of your throat. “Once we get in the room, I think I’ll be able to heat you up,” he says.

You giggle and squirm a bit in his hold as Chris comes back to the car. He’s stone faced, but for once on this trip, it isn’t due to you and Leon.

“They only have one room available,” he says flatly and holds up the small golden key.

Your face drops and Leon lets go of you.

“What do you mean they only have one room?” he asks, “Look at this place. It doesn’t even look like anyone’s even accidentally wandered through here in this century. How could they only have one room?”

“They said the others are closed for renovation,” Chris relays.

“Renovation for what? For the ghosts of people who stayed here the last time this place was actually full?” Leon continues.

“I don’t know, man. You wanna go in there and argue with the lady at the desk? She’s half deaf and in a great mood, I’m sure she’ll be open to hearing your concerns,” the older man says sarcastically, beginning to grow frustrated.

Their bickering continues as you glance around at your surroundings. It was cold, it was dark, and it really was starting to creep you out how empty this place was.

You carefully take Leon’s hand and give it a little tug.

“I’m really tired. Can we just deal with it for the night?” you ask him hopefully.

He looks over at you, the petty complaints seeping from his body when he hears your soft voice requesting something so simple.

He sighs and nods. “Yeah, sweetheart,” he says and kisses your forehead.

Chris is grateful for your intervention and scoops up the bags so you aren’t bothered with them. The three of you walk in line to your room.

The door creaks as your ex-mentor pushes it open. It’s pitch black inside until Leon reaches over and taps the light switch. Your eyes scan the small room. It wasn’t a horrible set up. The furniture was a little vintage to put it nicely, but it didn’t feel haunted. Two double beds sat against one wall while a ratty leather chair occupied the opposite corner. Besides that there was a dresser, an old tv that was shaped like a cube, and a small counter with a microwave and mini-fridge. Leon looks around with the same disinterest displayed on your face.

“Hey, at least there isn’t only one bed,” he jokes and slaps Chris’s shoulder.

The older man rolls his eyes and tosses his duffel onto the mattress closest to the door. You and your boyfriend follow suit. You tuck your bag neatly against the side of the dresser while he drops it on the floor next to the farther bed.

“I’m gonna take a shower,” Chris tells the both of you as he fishes some fresh clothes and toiletries out of his bag.

He gets two unconcerned nods in response, and that’s enough for him to head to the bathroom. As he’s shutting the door, he can already hear your giggling starting up again along with the creak of the mattress, presumably from Leon pulling you down onto it.

Turning on the water, he sighs deeply. The faucet was as old as everything else in the room. It whooshed and groaned before starting up and letting out some water. The stream was hot and even, so he guessed he couldn't complain too much. He sheds his clothes and steps in the shower that was too small for him. The confined area didn’t act as much as a reprieve for him. His head is about three or four inches too tall for where the showerhead was angled. The slick curtain clings to the part of his bicep that stuck out against it.

It felt like a physical manifestation of how the next twelve hours would feel.

Being in the room next to you and Leon would’ve been bad enough. He’d have to hear you two going at it for hours like there was no tomorrow, but at least he’d be alone. He wouldn’t have to repress his grimaces or hide his wistful exhales. No one would have to know how shameful he looked when he felt himself getting hard over the way you whined and mewled for the other agent.

Now you two wouldn’t be going at it, but he’d have to be in the room clouded by both of your desires to do it. He’d have to watch the lingering looks and hear the little hitches in your breaths. He’d see whatever cute little pajamas wore and the way you curled up to Leon beneath the covers. He’d witness how peaceful your face looked while you slept in another man’s arms.

He’d honestly just prefer to be forced to listen to the sounds of your headboard banging against the wall all night.

But he pushes those thoughts away to finish up washing himself. His large hands guide the shampoo out of his hair and glide the washcloth over his muscular form. The steam starting to rise helps to calm him a little.

He isn’t in there for much longer before he shuts the water off and steps out of the shower to dry off. He wraps a towel around his waist, letting the cloth hang on hips just below his happy trail and v-line. His reflection gazes back at him through the fog on the mirror as he rubs a towel over his head and dries his hair.

In an effort to be considerate, he dresses in the bathroom. Gray sweats cover his lower half while a loose t-shirt adorns his chest. He makes sure everything in the bathroom is back in place before heading back out there, hopefully to just get some sleep and not be bothered by his temporary roommates.

That isn’t meant to be though. As soon as he steps back into the main portion of the room, he’s greeted by the sight of Leon’s hand down your shorts and your lips locked together in a flurry of kisses. He’s frozen in place for a moment, watching how Leon’s knuckles move underneath the fabric between your legs. Though a moment later, he remembers how he should be reacting.

“Come the fuck on,” he says and brings his hand to his face in frustration.

Your eyes widen, and your head snaps up. Leon lazily glances in his direction. Chris looks back at the pair of you, thinking you’d had enough time to readjust. What really enrages him now is that Leon’s hand was still where it was. You have to grab his wrist and pull it away.

“I’m so sorry, Chris,” you apologize without another thought, “We got distracted and didn’t hear the water shut off. I’m so-”

He doesn’t even look at you though. He’s locked in a stare with the other man in the room.

“Grow the fuck up, Leon,” he says, his tone deadly serious, “I’ve had enough of this shit. You’re acting like a fucking high schooler. Like a dog with a bone.”

You go silent and look down with guilt. He would’ve felt bad if he wasn’t so fed up. To make matters worse, Leon merely rolls his eyes.

“Jesus, calm down,” he says, “You’re acting like you just walked in on a porno or something. You’ve never seen two people making out?”

“Leon, shut up,” you say, keeping your voice hushed as if Chris couldn’t hear you from a small distance of ten feet. Your boyfriend doesn’t even acknowledge you though.

“That’s not what it’s about, and you know that. I don’t give a shit if the two of you want to make out till your lips are blue. Do it on your own time. I don’t wanna have to deal with the two of you slobbering all over each other while I’m trying to do my job,” he says with a glare.

“That’s not what this is about either, and you know it,” the younger man retorts.

“Leon, just give it up!” you plead. He shoots you a look though that makes you react like a scolded puppy.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Chris asks incredulously as he crosses his arms.

Your boyfriend almost laughs in his face. He sits up, looking at him with a more pointed gaze. “You don’t care about what I’m doing. You’re pissed off because I’m doing it with her,” he taunts.

Somehow the look on Chris’s face darkens further.

“Alright, man. I’m sure that’s what it is. It’s not you just being an insecure dickhead like always,” he says, trying to sound dismissive as he walks to his own bed, “You're more immature than I thought.”

“Don’t try to act like it’s bullshit because I know it’s the truth. All the years I’ve known you, all the missions we’ve partnered on; this isn’t the first time you’ve seen me with a girl but you’ve never pitched a fit about it before,” Leon says.

Chris shakes his head, not dignifying the accusations with a response, but he won’t give it up.

“Also, you think I’m fucking stupid? You think I don’t see the way you’re looking at her? Undressing her with your eyes, laser focused every time she bends over? I think if she gave you the go ahead, you wouldn’t even hesitate to steal her away from me,” he says.

You notice as they argue that in contrast to the genuine aggravation on Chris’s face, Leon’s words come from somewhere else. Almost as if he’s enjoying calling him a liar, poking and prodding at the other man to provoke a reaction.

Chris looks directly at him now as if he’s ready to lunge in a moment’s notice.

“Shut your mouth. You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he says.

“Tell me then. Tell me how it is.”

That makes the older man pause. Of course Leon was right, but under no circumstances would he make that apparent.

“She had a bright future ahead of her, and look what you’ve done. She’s the best either one of the agencies has had in years, and you keep her in the palm of your hand like she’s a barbie doll!” he exclaims.

He sees the flicker of hurt on your face and knows he fucked up, but he could apologize later. He continues speaking to try and temporarily rectify his slip up.

“She’s too good for you, Leon,” he says simply, sighing and sitting down on his bed.

You see genuine emotion flash in your boyfriend's eyes. Chris struck a chord, picking at a very real insecurity Leon held. But he wanted to win this confrontation too, so he wouldn’t let that be known. Instead, he beckons you to him with a languid wave of his hand.

“C’mere, baby.”

Chris rolls his eyes, thinking Leon was gonna swoop in to comfort you for the way your feelings had been hurt. You waddle across the mattress on your knees and plop down between his legs, your back against his chest. His hands sweep over your stomach, soothingly caressing your skin.

“She might be too good for me, but you’re pissed off because she’s too good for you too,” he says.

“Leon, stop,” you whisper. Tomorrow was going to be awkward enough as is. He didn’t need to make it any worse.

Chris glances up at the two of you but looks down again quickly, not wanting to see the way the other man’s hands moved on your body.

“You think I’m the bad guy. That I’m corrupting your innocent little rookie,” Leon mocks, “But tell me you wouldn’t take my place if you could.”

“I wouldn’t,” he mumbles instantaneously.

“Look me in the eyes and tell me. Tell me that if she was actually interested in you, that you wouldn’t have taken her in your arms as fast as you could. When she was prancing around the BSAA, looking up at you with stars in her eyes, tell me you didn’t want her,” your boyfriend challenges.

Chris looks up at the both of you. His expression is hard to read. It’s some mixture of hurt and relief that you’re unfamiliar with.

“I didn’t,” he maintains.

Leon’s hand continues trailing on your tummy up and down. His fingers coast in between your breasts, causing you to shiver, but everyone’s so wrapped up in the conflict that you choose not to say anything.

“That’s a shame because I’m pretty sure your little rookie had a crush on you,” he says quietly.

“Don’t joke around like that Leon,” Chris scoffs at the same time as your eyes widen and you start to tell your boyfriend to be quiet.

“Shh shh shh,” he hushes you and places a small kiss on your temple, “You’re giving yourself away, sweetheart.”

You look down and the man across from you just looks confused. Leon smirks at the both of you before resuming.

“C’mon man. Don’t tell me you couldn’t see it. She’s a terrible liar, and I think she had it pretty bad for you. I just came along and pulled her attention elsewhere,” he says, teasing you while redirecting his words to Chris.

Your face was heating up fast as Leon aired out a confession you’d made to him on a night after too many drinks. Chris slowly returned his gaze back to the two of you. Instead of bothering with Leon, he looked into your eyes this time.

“Is that true?” he asks.

Every limb on your body feels frozen up, but you manage to force your head into nodding. You hear Leon chuckle from behind you, which only intensifies how awkward you feel.

“I liked you at first when I first started working at the BSAA. For the first few months,” you begin to explain. It’s not like anything you said would help the situation at all, but it still felt like you were supposed to offer something.

He continues staring at you, and you honestly can’t tell what’s running through his mind. All you can think is that he looks like he’s in pain. Meanwhile, your boyfriend’s hands caress over your skin in a pattern they’d developed.

“You were just so nice and understanding with me-” you start. But you’re cut off by your sharp gasp when Leon’s hand slides under the waistband of your bottoms and into your panties.

“Leon!” you whimper as fast as his fingers find your clit. You grab his wrist and try to pull it away like you’d done earlier, but when he didn’t want to be interrupted, he wouldn’t be. It wasn’t like you tried too hard anyways. You were still a little pent up from earlier, craving the pleasure that had been cut short.

“No, go on, sweetheart. Keep telling Chris how much you liked him. I know he wants to hear it,” he says lowly while his fingers toy with you.

“Leon,” Chris says firmly, trying to stand up for you. But fuck, if he didn’t want to keep watching your breath hitch and your hips squirm. Or your face getting pouty whenever his fingers stroked a certain way.

“Chris,” he says back, “Don’t act like you don’t wanna see. This might be your only chance.”

He smirks and kisses your temple again, rotating the pad of his middle finger over your clit. The motions draw little whines from you, and your eyes flutter. You keep them on Chris, looking into his own as you sink back into Leon’s chest.

“Go ahead, honey. Continue your story,” Leon prompts.

“You were so sweet- mm- and you taught me a lot and- ah- I don’t know it was just a little crush,” you say timidly.

Chris watches you. He doesn’t move at all for fear of bringing attention to how fast his cock has hardened.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he breathes.

“Cause you were my boss,” you say, “I- Leon fuck- I didn’t wanna put you in a bad position.”

His chest feels like it’s turned to stone as he takes in these revelations. It’s hard not to let the regret take over. The realization that he’d been much closer to everything he’d wanted threatened to consume him if he dwelled on it. That on top of the fact that he was hearing all this while you whimpered another man’s name between your words had his mind scrambled.

“It wouldn’t have put me in a bad position, sweetheart,” he says, attempting to sound normal about the situation.

Your lips curve further down, as if you feel guilty for the mess of emotions building inside him. Behind you, Leon’s mouth makes the opposite expression.

“What happened to not wanting her, Redfield?” he teases.

“Shut up,” Chris says. Even if he wasn’t the one pleasuring you, this was a moment for you and him.

His eyes are locked on you, trying to drink in everything about the vision of beauty in front of him. Leon’s warning that this could be the only time he gets to see it echoes in his mind. He doesn’t know how he’ll survive if this is the only time. He doesn’t think he could ever get enough of this. The way your lashes flutter and your eyes look dreamy. How your soft thighs tremble while spread open. The little movements of your hips rocking your ass back and forth against the man behind you.

Why couldn’t that man be him?

It was the most blissful form of torture he’d experienced. He tried to tell himself that even if he just got to watch you cum, it’d be worth it. It’d be better to share this unforgettable sliver of time with you than to have nothing special at all.

He tries to refocus himself back on enjoying the view of your shorts sliding off your legs rather than mourn the relationship he’d lost out on. It was just nearly impossible to avoid envisioning himself and the other man swapped. He had imagined you in his lap like that for months before you even knew the name Leon Kennedy.

Chris’s mind is actually drawn back to the action in front of him once Leon’s got your shorts off, and your panties are fully exposed. The crotch is soaked through. He can see the way the fabric sticks to your center, only peeling away to make space for the nimble fingers working beneath it.

“Leon…” you mewl and tilt your head back against his shoulder.

“I know, princess,” he murmurs, “You’re doing such a good job showing off for Chris. I’m proud of you. You’re really making it worth his while.”

“Thank you,” you whimper.

Leon grins at your display of submission and rewards you with a gentle pinch to your clit. You yelp, and Chris’s cock jerks inside his pants. His bulge is completely visible to everyone in the room by now, no way of sitting could hide that. Despite his arousal, he still had questions.

“Am I the reason you left?” he decides to ask you.

He watches you snap out of the throes of lust and look at him. You hesitate before answering.

“No,” you say softly, “I left to be with Leon.”

It feels like a dagger straight to his heart. He watches any chance of salvaging you as his own die before his very eyes, those words acting as the nails in the coffin. It shows on his face too because he can see the guilt replacing the desire in your eyes. Even Leon’s face flashes with some sympathy. He tilts his head towards you again and nips at the shell of your ear.

“I think you might have hurt Chris’s feelings, baby,” he chides lovingly. His hand then leaves your panties and goes with his other one to your waist. Boosting you to your feet, he looks up at you and taps your ass. “Maybe you should help him feel better. Show him some of what I taught you.”

There’s only a brief pause on your part. You stand between the two beds, between the two men, looking back and forth. You weren’t against the idea at all, it just didn’t seem real. You never imagined this happening in your wildest dreams.

You drop to your knees and approach Chris from the ground, positioning yourself between his legs and looking up at him.

“You don’t have to,” he says, his tone quiet and genuine.

You reach up, sliding your hand up his thigh to palm at his bulge.

“I know,” you respond.

In the simplest of terms, you were still very much attracted to Chris. Your relationship with Leon had extinguished the torch you carried for him down to a small flame, but on a physical and instinctual level, you still wanted him bad. Especially having not cum yet after being teased twice. Your fingers unzip his pants and begin pulling them down, eager to get his cock out.

In a way, you were pretty sure you loved him. Not in the way you love Leon. You knew that. You didn’t dream of love and marriage and the baby carriage with Chris. But for so long, he’d been your safe space. Amongst the violence and horrors in the world of Bioterrorism, your mentor had always been there for you to hold your hand.

You yank his pants down to his ankles, and his dick flops out against his thigh. Your eyes widen slightly. It made sense for it to be big just like everything else on him was, but the sight had you drooling. It was thick and long, from one look you could only imagine how it would stretch you out.

Your fingers wrap around the length, feeling its warmth. The veins that sprawl across it pulse with desire for you. He moans quietly with only one stroke. Your hand pumps up and down tentatively as you spit down onto it for some lubrication.

No one in the room is in the mood to be teased tonight, so you lean in and flick your tongue against the tip. Another groan bubbles from Chris’s lips and you can feel Leon’s lecherous gaze on you the entire time. You lap at the head some more and keep working your fist up and down.

You’re either very talented or Chris is very needy for you, because it only takes a handful of gentle licks before precum beads at the top. His eyes are blown out and locked on you as you suckle the swollen tip between your lips and bob your head. Your mouth is the perfect combination of warm and wet and soft. You cup his balls and give them a gentle massage while working your magic.

He reaches down and pets your head as you work. His head snaps up when he hears the other man speak to him.

“How’s it feel? As good as you imagined?” he asks.

“Better,” Chris moans.

His breaths enter and exit his lungs in deep puffs. This truly was better than he could’ve imagined. Everything about you was beyond the capabilities of human imagination. Your gags were so soft and tender. They were precious despite their inherent lewd nature. You looked up at him with glossy eyes, maintaining eye contact most of the time. That was something he’d taught you. Your first days of work you were always looking down at your shoes or right through him at the wall. He’d been the one to tell you eye contact was important. It was the most baseline form of connection.

You take your mouth off Chris’s shaft with a small pop. A string of saliva dangles between you and his cock, but you quickly destroy it when your lips smoosh against the flushed skin. You kiss the tip over and over, savoring the taste of precum it brings.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, not caring if he heard or not.

But he does, and his gaze softens. “You don’t have anything to be sorry for, rookie,” he says back.

Leon decides not to interrupt the exchange or tease Chris about the old nickname for you. He had no genuine ill will toward the other man. That plus his own cock was rising to attention, and he was more interested in palming it through his jeans.

“You're such a good girl. You don’t need to apologize for anything,” Chris continues to coo at you as you take his length back into your mouth.

His eyes crinkle as they shut. He doesn’t want to cum yet just in case there was the chance for anything more. You’re too taken with servicing him to notice that you should maybe slow down. Lucky for the both of you, Leon intervenes.

“Ah ah, baby. Don’t take Chris out of the fun too quick,” he tuts, reaching forward to guide your head back.

You pull off obediently and lean back onto your knees. Chris sighs at the reprieve but nearly blows his load when his eyes refocus on you gazing up at him with spit and precum on your lips.

“I think Chris needs a break, angel. You know how good that mouth of yours is,” he says and pets your head before looking up to the older man, “You want a little taste of her while you cool off?”

It’s like time slows to a halt in the world of Chris Redfield. The heavens part and the words he just heard are the gateway to paradise. He stares at Leon, almost in the same disbelief you had been in minutes ago.

“You’re cool with that?” he says, trying to seem casual.

“I wouldn’t have offered if I wasn’t,” he says and shrugs, “Plus, I think your rookie deserves a treat for her performance.”

“Of course she does. She’s probably feeling pretty needy by now too,” Chris says in return, beginning to feel more comfortable with the situation at hand.

“I’ll even let you pick, man. You want her spread out on the bed or riding your face?” he asks.

You look between the both of them as they speak before stopping on Chris as he makes the decision.

“Riding my face. Want her to smother me,” the older man says as he looks down at you with his familiar smile.

Leon glances down at you too. “You heard him, baby,” he says.

You return to your feet and approach the bed closer to the window. Chris discards his pants completely and removes his shirt before lying back. He pats his chest, signaling for you to climb up. As you move closer, so does your boyfriend. He rounds the bed and sits on the other side of the mattress to watch the pair of you.

You crawl over Chris’s muscular body, looking down at him for a moment when your faces are level. You then scoot up more so you’re basically sitting on his chest. You weren’t shy about sitting on someone’s face necessarily. You’d done it for Leon about a dozen times before, but Chris was new and you didn’t know how he liked to do it. From the way he guided your hips higher up though, you could already tell he was a little more gentle than your boyfriend.

He pulls you up until your pussy is hovering over his face. Then he takes a few moments to just admire it. It was cute just like every other part of you. One of his fingers drags over your flesh and pulls on the puffy folds, showing off your pretty little clit and slick entrance.

“Don’t hold back for me, rookie. I want to taste all of you,” he says as he looks up at you.

You return his look and nod before he pulls you lower by your hips onto his face. A squeak flies from your lips when his tongue makes contact with your cunt. Leon chuckles as he watches the two of you with lustful eyes. He’s working on undressing himself now.

Chris’s tongue takes a long swipe from the bottom to the top of your pussy, taking in as much of you as he can. Right now you’re all he can smell. Every breath brings him more of you. Your taste overwhelms him too. It’s the way he wants to live. You whine as his lips engulf your clit to suck on.

“Already making such pretty noises,” Leon teases, “Is Chris doing it how you like, sweet girl?”

You nod, your eyes connecting with those of your boyfriend’s for a moment. He kneels on the bed to be closer to you. His hand comes up to stroke your cheek.

“Good. You deserve it, baby. Just look at you. So precious. No wonder he’s crazy about you too,” Leon murmurs as he leans in and kisses you deeply.

His lips move with yours as you moan into his mouth. You begin rocking your hips back and forth on Chris’s face to get more of the stimulation he’s providing you with. His tongue flattens over your cunt and presses against it in stripes, making broad strokes that spark euphoria in your belly each time. His hands lock onto your hips to keep you still enough that you’re not interrupting his devouring of you.

The constant pleasure to your core makes you lightheaded. You would be swaying if not for the two men’s combined efforts to keep you up right. Your kisses become sloppier, and to alleviate it, Leon ducks down to kiss your neck instead. He peppers your skin with hickeys, his possessive nature shining through a bit.

“My pretty girl, doing so good for us right now. Taking it like a pro,” he whispers teasingly as his hands cup your breasts and give them a tender squeeze.

His lips travel down to where his hands are. He plants a few kisses on the swell of your chest. The sight of your nipples perking up for him would never get old.

“Sweet baby, everything about you is perfect. Don’t know how Chris resisted and never got a taste,” he says as he sucks one of your nipples into his mouth.

Your head falls back and you shudder. Two mouths on you, both licking and sucking in harmony. It made you moan loud enough that you would’ve certainly got a noise complaint if any of the other rooms were occupied.

“Is that for me or Chris, babydoll?” Leon asks and smirks up at you.

“Both,” you whimper, “Both of you are making me feel so good.”

“Not picking favorites, hm?” he goads you further.

“Can’t think enough to pick one right now,” you say simply before another whine leaves you. You didn’t want any more drama. At least not before you came.

“Oh, is your head getting all foggy, baby?” he coos.

“Mhm,” you whimper and nod.

On your lower half, Chris keeps his mouth firmly attached to your pussy. He’s pretty sure you already have him addicted, and you haven’t even cum yet. He’s licking with all the dedication in the world as if this task was his life’s purpose, the action he was put on this very earth to complete.

“Tastes so fucking good,” he grunts into you as he continues open mouth kissing your cunt, “Prettiest little pussy I’ve ever seen.”

Leon smiles at the compliment, almost as if it was partially intended for him by virtue of being your boyfriend.

“She’s loving you, Chris. You’ve got her brain melting out her ears,” Leon purrs while rubbing your back soothingly, steadying you from the tremors that rack your body, “Pretty baby’s probably gonna cum all over your face soon.

When he hears that, the man below you pulls your hips down even harder and locks you onto his mouth. He works even harder to please you, relishing in the way your noises grow louder and more strained.

You give Leon puppy eyes as your hand darts out for his. Your fingers squeeze his palm so tight, he’s sure there will be little red crescents on the skin when you let go.

“What is it, sweetheart? You need to hold my hand?” he croons. He gently squeezes your hand back and moves his face to your neck to press a few more kisses there. “I’ve got you, baby. You cum whenever you want, I’m not gonna let go. Show Chris how pretty you are when you cum.”

Your teeth dig into your lip and your hips quiver violently.

“Fuck Leon- I just- I- Chris,” you stutter out. Your brain rushes to latch onto something, but it can’t seem to get a lock on anything.

“Don’t gotta say anything, angel. Just cum all over my face,” Chris commands from between your thighs.

“You heard him, baby. No thinking. Just let yourself feel good. That’s what we both wanna see,” he whispers and brings your hand to his lips.

Your lips part to say something, but you decide to just listen. You grind your hips down against Chris’s mouth, gasping as the euphoria paramounts within you. Your hips roll even faster as you feel release within your grasp. You’re closing in on it when you shriek and nearly double over with the shattering feeling of your peak.

“There we go, that’s it,” Leon chuckles softly, “Show him what I get to see every night. My favorite sight in the whole world.”

Your body moves as if it’s possessed when you cum. Your back arches into a curve with supernatural speed. Your eyes are screwed shut while your mouth is wide open. The younger man next to you grins while the older man below you continues to make out with your pussy, lapping up every drop of you that he could.

When you start to come down, he lets up, knowing Leon had more in store from you. He lets your hips go, and you basically topple over onto the mattress. You inhale and exhale deeply as the cool motel sheets rest against your cheek.

Chris’s eyes are hooded from lust, the effects of the most erotic experience in his life lingering. His cock is fully hard, standing up and aching for more of your touch. Yet in a way he’s satisfied, having just made you cum, tasted the sweetest part of you, and heard your most vulnerable sounds.

Leon’s undressed on the bed, the only one of the three of you whose mind didn’t feel hazy with clouds of desire. He tugs on his stiff cock a few times as he decides what to do. His eyes flit between your crumpled up form and the other man lying on his back.

“Chris, you wanna hold her for a little bit? Have her sit in your lap?” he asks.

The older man almost felt pathetic at how eager he was to play along and say yes. Almost. Because he still does that. He nods and sits up, leaning back against the headboard.

The next move is getting you up. Your boyfriend guides you to where Chris is, and he then helps you into his lap. Your mind was coming back to normal, and you were looking up at Leon with adoration while you melted against Chris’s broad chest. You nuzzle it gently, feeling its warmth and plush quality. His thick arms encase you, making sure you feel secure.

Leon pulls you on your hips to get you a bit lower where he has easier access.

“I’m not gonna let you fuck her this time. I wanna show you how it’s done first,” Leon teases as he slots himself between your legs.

In any other instance, this would’ve pissed Chris off. Everything about it would’ve left him disappointed and annoyed. But now any negative emotion is overshadowed by two words.

This time.

Because this time implies there will be a next time. And maybe even a time after next time. Another time for him to feel his cock inside you. Another time for him to make you cum on his fingers or watch you ride him. Some of his hopes spring back to life.

Internally, his heart is soaring. He kisses your hairline carefully as Leon slides his tip between your folds that are sticky with arousal. He teases himself with the feeling only a few times before nudging the tip inside.

Your head falls back against Chris’s chest and you moan. He kisses your temple and caresses your sides as if you need to be soothed. As if this isn’t the dick you’ve been taking nightly for the last few months.

Chris’s own length is rock solid against your back. Every small change in your facial expression or rise in pitch of your voice sends blood rushing to it, the threat of cumming untouched ever present.

Leon steadily pushes in until he’s buried all the way inside and you’re nice and filled to the hilt.

“So fucking tight. You gotta feel it, Chris. You thought she tasted good? Just wait till you feel her,” he grunts.

“I bet. I could tell from how cute her pussy was. She was clenching around nothing the whole time. I’m sure she loves to squeeze down anytime she’s got a cock in her,” Chris whispers

More hope was rising in him that this wouldn’t be a one night only thing, and it took all his strength not to smile like an idiot. His knuckles move down your cheek lovingly as he speaks to you and holds you while Leon thrusts. Your body rocks gently with the momentum, pushing you against Chris’s cock each time.

“She does love to get all tight. Just wants to suck me in so I can never leave,” Leon says and holds your thighs to start thrusting harder.

“Such a needy girl. I should’ve known, rookie,” Chris murmurs to you.

“It just feels so good,” you whine, “It’s not my fault.”

“Oh I know it’s not, precious,” Leon mocks, “Your head is always full of nothing but air when I’m around. It probably just gets worse with Chris here.”

You whine in protest and squirm a little, unknowingly grinding your ass on Chris’s cock and coaxing a moan from him. Leon’s dick hits deeper too, bringing you heightened pleasure.

“You’re not an airhead, baby. You’re a sweet girl. My rookie. You just wanna feel good, hm?” Chris says teasingly.

You nod along, and from the look on his face, Leon is amused, pleased with the dynamic Chris opened up.

“No one said she isn’t sweet. Just that she goes a little dumb as soon as she’s got my dick in her,” he teases.

He sighs and his eyes roll back for a moment as you clamp around you. He keeps rocking in and out, enjoying the wet sounds coming from each one of his movements. He also can’t get enough of your mewls or the way you're clutching one of Chris’s forearms right now.

“Maybe he’s right about that. You just work so hard all the time. You need something that can calm you down,” Chris says and squeezes his arms around you, “You’re still so precious.”

You look up at Chris with lovey dovey eyes, remembering why you’d been so enamored with him in the first place. He talked to you like you were the sweetest thing to walk this earth and made you believe it. He made you feel cared for in a way that was indescribable. Pure feeling.

“Yeah you are,” Leon grunts, “And you can go as dumb as you want right now, baby. We’re both here taking care of you. I’m sure Chris loves holding you while all you can do is whine for more.”

“That’s right. I love seeing you like this, knowing you’re taken care of,” he whispers, “And you know I’ve always got you. I’ll never let my rookie go.”

All the words are overwhelming. You pant and writhe more in Chris’s grasp.

“You getting close again, babydoll?” Leon asks, knowing your tells.

You whimper and nod quickly.

“Good. I am too,” he grunts.

He starts working himself into you harder. The momentum from each snap of his hips keeps you rubbing against Chris’s shaft and working him closer to the edge as well. All three of you are panting, muscles tensing up in some way as the end approaches. 

You stare into Leon’s eyes for a moment before rotating your head and looking up at Chris. Both sets of eyes are fixated on you. The overflow of attention is the final strike your body needs to start convulsing with release. The older man’s arms tighten around you, keeping you close as your skin heats up and your noises grow whinier. Your boyfriend keeps a steel grip on your hips, his fingers stroking back and forth.

“That’s my girl,” Leon grunts, “Let it out, baby.”

He moans and lets his head fall back as he feels himself hurtling towards the finish line.

“My rookie. Just perfect, honey,” Chris whispers, “I’m so proud of you.”

The words nearly triple your pleasure and you continue to ride out the high as Leon finally cums and shoots it inside you. He nearly growls as he pounds into you, completely emptying himself. All the rutting is enough for Chris to cum too. He spurts his hot seed against the small of your back, holding onto you with all he has as his hips jerk upwards and he imagines it’s him buried inside you.

Leon’s the first to get his bearings back. He pulls out slowly, letting you adjust to the feeling of emptiness. He then rolls to the side of you and Chris, watching the final moments with the other man. You lie on his chest with your eyes drooping, your chest heaving as you catch your breath. His hand lazily runs down your side. He savors your warmth on his chest. Almost subconsciously, it feels like you really are his in this moment.

That is until you regain your composure and sit up. You hop up for a moment to clean off the mess on your back. He knew you’d have to, but the sight still makes Chris’s heart ache. 

As you return to the bed, you give your boyfriend a dizzy smile and crawl over to curl up at his side. He rubs your back and pecks your forehead. For the two of you, it’s like a regular night. Chris isn’t sure where he fits in this anymore. Should he just move to the bed you two had claimed earlier? Should he make the two of you get up?

He’s running through solutions in his mind when your hand comes out and grabs his wrist. You’re looking up at him with some sort of longing in your eyes.

“Stay with us,” you say.

It was softer than he ever heard from you, different from when you introduced yourself on your first day of work or made a mistake on a mission. It was a new kind of shyness that just made him want more from you. He stares at you and contemplates the idea. Leon raises his eyebrows and gives him a look, giving him the silent ok he needed to slowly lower himself to the mattress. 

He shuts off the light first, leaving the motel room in darkness except for the glow of the yellow street lamps shining through the window. His head hits the pillow, and he drapes an arm over you. You’re still leaning into Leon for the most part which he makes no move to interfere with.

The three of you don’t say anything for the rest of the night. Silence permeates the atmosphere of your shared space. The events of the last hour run through each of your minds in different ways. The mission had taken a back seat for now. It could return to prominence tomorrow once the mental dust had settled.

Leon’s eyes flutter shut first, and his deep, even breaths of sleep follow. You’re barely awake with your cheek squished against his pectoral muscle. Chris watches you, the outline of your face illuminated from the faint light outside. He wonders if this really will be the only time with you. If his taste of heaven will remain that, a sample of what he could have had. He chooses to not believe that and drive himself crazy.

He shuts his eyes too and brings his face to nestle against the crook of your neck. His breath hits your neck when he sighs. In the abyss that is the motel room, he feels your hands come up to rest on his arm.

[kvnstwerk]

CRY FOR ABSOLUTION - LEON S. KENNEDY

ft. leon kennedy x fem!reader

a/n: heyyy :3 had to make the priest collar edit on picsart so don't look at it too close... um... title from 'absolution' by ghost. thank you @ottermarbles for beta reading !! been working on this slowly while writing commissions... finally here !! rbs and feedback appreciated as always <3

cw: 18+ content, priest!leon, non-religious!reader, dead dove, non-con to dub-con to non-con, victim turned perpetrator, forced breeding, mentions of forcing marriage, religious themes, p in v, creampie, degradation, name calling, breath play

word count: 1.6k words

Leon can sense your presence in the church before he sees you. The hairs on the back of his neck stand on end, his whole body going rigid. He starts murmuring under his breath, eyes shut as he recites the prayer. He’d tried countless times to pray to the Virgin Mary, to strengthen his faith in God so he may resist your advances. To Saint Mary Magdalene, to guide you away from your life of sin. To God Himself to plead that you would leave him alone.

He was sure you were the Devil. Almost certain that you were some cruel test that God had bestowed on him.

He grips the rosary dangling around his neck as your footsteps get closer, whispering one final prayer to God, a desperate plea to give him strength before he faces you, hands trembling as his eyes open to meet yours. Leon couldn’t quite understand how you always managed to avoid the crowds, to worm your way into the Church between services, narrowly avoiding the other priests. You did not care for them, for your faith. You had your eyes set on Leon, a succubus in the flesh that had targeted him so callously.

”While I appreciate your dedication to the Church, I’m afraid the service has already drawn to a close, and there is a lot of work for me to get through before tonight’s service. Perhaps if you return later with the other parishioners, we can s-“

”Father, I hoped to speak to you before the service.” You say as you stalk closer, your heated gaze trailing him. He almost doesn’t hear you speak, the ringing in his ears dampening the sound around him, making your voice nothing more than a faint echo. He’s looking at you, but he’s not seeing you. His gaze is far away as he tries to think of something, anything else. A lump forms in his throat that he cannot dislodge no matter how hard he tries, swallowing to attempt to clear the passage enough so that he felt he could breathe, but with no success. His vision blurs, and he vaguely registers the tears forming in his eyes as you coo, cupping his cheek to wipe the few that fall.

”Please,” he whispers, voice cracking as he gazes at you fully, your face slowly coming into focus. What did he do to deserve this? He was a good man, wasn’t he? He’d tried his best to help the less fortunate, to be kind to everyone he spoke with. Had he committed some sin without realising it? Some blight against God that meant he deserved this? "Please, I don’t want this. You’re misguided, that's all. I can help you. You don’t have to do this.”

As always, his protests fall on deaf ears. He feels the steady stream of tears running down his face, brows pinching together as you back him up into the confessional. His chest continues to grow tighter and tighter until his lungs constrict painfully with each breath. The air gets caught in his throat and makes him choke, his brain shutting down as he just lets you free him from his vestments and tug down his trousers. He's glad to be rid of the collar, at the very least. It feels less like God was bearing down on his throat to drag him to Hell for letting this happen.

The first sob forces its way from his chest as your lips wrap around his cock. He wishes that he could hate the way it felt. It makes him nauseous - makes his head spin, but it feels good. He's at war with himself as to what this means, if enjoying the wet warmth wrapped around him means he's no better than you. He closes his eyes and clenches his fists as he tries to distance himself from your touch.

You pull yourself off of his cock with a pop, rustling around for something in your pocket. The crinkle of a packet has his eyes snapping open again, his eyes honing in on the foil you're holding up between two fingers. Panic seeps into his very core, his breath coming out in harsh puffs. “Thought we could try something new.” You say with a giggle, like it's the most normal thing in the world.

No. No, this couldn't happen to him. He's a priest - he's meant to stay far, far away from the pleasures of the flesh. He had to do something, anything to stop you. He swallows hard, eyes flickering around the confessional, trying to figure a way out of this before you lead him down a path of sin.

Leon isn't sure what happened. One minute, you were tearing open the condom with your teeth, and the next minute, he pounced. His hand gripped your throat to pin you down in the confessional, squeezing tight. His eyes are wide, almost feral as they meet yours, his free hand yanking your underwear down. His movements are clumsy as he prods as your cunt, trying to push his way in. After a few attempts, he manages to hook the tip on your entrance, and he slides home in one thrust.

“Oh.” He breathes out, eyes squeezing shut again. Maybe God wasn't testing him. Maybe this was his reward for being a good follower - all he had to do was breed this pussy full and wed you, and he'd be able to do this as many times as he pleased.

No. This was a test. He must have passed. He succeeded, and this was his reward. A pretty housewife for him to keep bred and safe in his grasp. A woman to cure his cold, lonely nights. He could finally have the family he always wanted. He was angry at you now, yes, but he would forgive you when you accepted his proposal and his seed.

“Temptress.” He hisses between gritted teeth, the hand on your throat tightening. The pressure against your windpipe is bruising, leaving you desperately trying to gasp in breaths through too tight of a passage. “Indecent whore. This is what you wanted, wasn't it? You didn't care when I told you ‘no’, did you? No? Then take it.”

He scoffs as you plead for him to stop again, his brows narrowing in frustration. He didn't want to do this. Leon was a good man. He was a holy man. He couldn't let you ruin him. What if the word of this got out?

“You wanted to ruin me, didn't you? You thought you couldn't take what you wanted from me without consequences? That… fuck… that God wouldn't punish your sins? I'm going to make you take my seed. You're going to be my pretty little wife, and no one will hear about this.”

He thrusts forward particularly violently after his words, his grip on your throat tightening enough that you start thrashing, cunt clenching around his cock enough that he has to halt his movements to stop himself from cumming too soon.

“If you breathe a word of this to anyone, I will drag you down into the deepest depths of Hell with me. I swear it on the Lord Himself.” He grits out, finally releasing his hold on your throat.

He ignores your protests, a muddy mix of guilt and anger swirling in his chest with each plea that falls from your lips. You had shown him no mercy, and yet you expect him to spare you? You were nothing more than a Godless nymph. He would show you the light.

“Do you know your prayers, hmm?” He coos, gripping your chin. The pads of his fingers dig into your cheeks harshly, drawing a pained moan from you. He starts fucking into you again now that his orgasm has fully subsided, letting out a shaky breath at the drag of his length against your gummy walls. “No, of course. You have no respect for the house of the Lord - you just wish to defile it.”

He lets go of your face to hitch your legs over his waist, breaths coming out in heavy pants as he pistons his hips into you, sweat beading against his skin from exertion, bangs stuck flat against his forehead. “Repeat after me.”

‘Lord God, in your goodness have mercy on me:’

The words fall past your lips in a daze as you repeat them, his hand reaching up to your throat again, but not squeezing. A warning to continue as he speaks the next line.

‘Do not look on my sins, but take away all my guilt.’

He's close now, barely able to hold back as he ruts into you helplessly, reduced to nothing more than a dog in heat as you clench around his cock.

‘Create in me a clean heart and renew within me an upright spirit.’

His hips stutter as you repeat the last words of Contrition back to him, his head dropping to the crook of your shoulder as he gasps out sharp breaths. His cock jumps as he orgasms, stuffing you full of his cum with a noise more akin to a whimper than a moan.

He leans back, eyes taking in your appearance. There was some kind of sick satisfaction seeing you broken like this, knowing God had allowed him to take back the part of him you had aimed to destroy.

You would be his. He would keep you as his wife, his prize. He was given a chance to relinquish the sins you had bestowed upon him.

He would not let the opportunity pass.

[kvnstwerk]

High on Hate

Pairing: Leon Kennedy x Reader, Enemies to lovers dynamic

Wc: 3,9K

Warnings: mutual bullying, swearing, smoking, jealousy, mentions of drugs, alcohol, mentions of killing, harassment, smut, p in v, unprotected sex, cunnilingus, !switch! reader and leon, biting, spitting, a lil fluff at the end

Summary: As Ashley’s maid of honour reader has to spend a lot of time with someone she can’t stand. When it‘s time for the wedding a faithful moment might change the dynamic between her and Leon.

If you were asked to describe Leon Kennedy, you'd call him a pain in the ass—the kind of guy who made it his personal mission to irritate the hell out of you.

It didn’t help that he always walked around with that smug little smile, the one that just screamed, I’m better than all of you, like he was somehow superior to everyone in the room. And God, how he thrived on it. It was almost like he enjoyed getting under your skin, pushing all the right buttons until you were ready to snap. That cocky attitude, the way he’d drop a snarky remark just to watch you scramble for a comeback—it was as if he lived for the moment you’d roll your eyes and mutter something in frustration. It was infuriating.

And then, of course, there was the fact that he was Ashley’s brother-in-law, her fiancé Ryan’s older brother. That one small detail meant you were stuck dealing with him far more than you ever wanted to, especially now that you had the blessing—and curse—of being Ashley’s maid of honor.

As much as you loved Ash and were excited to be by her side on her big day, the thought of the wedding prep had you dreading one thing: Leon. You didn’t want to spend any more time in the same room as him, enduring his teasing and that smug smile every time he got under your skin. It was like he couldn’t help himself, always lurking in the background, waiting for a moment to rile you up.

One afternoon, as you and the bride-to-be were discussing flower arrangements for the wedding, Leon strolled in, settling into the armchair across from you. “What’s all this?” he asked, eyeing the floral designs. “Planning to suffocate the guests with all these flowers, or going for a ‘garden massacre’ vibe?”

You clenched your jaw, trying to stay calm. “We’re trying to make it personal, Lee,” Ashley said, her voice tight.

Leon smirked. “Cute, but maybe pick something that doesn’t scream ‘lack of style.’” He leaned forward, eyes gleaming with amusement.

Your patience snapped. “Maybe you should keep your opinions to yourself for once.”

He grinned wider. “Oh, I’m sure it’ll work out. At least I’m offering constructive criticism, sweetheart.” With a shrug, he added, “I’ll be here when the real planning starts.”

You forced a smile as he left, muttering under your breath, “And yet, you still manage to contribute nothing.” But of course the asshole didn’t hear this.

After months of planning, hard work, and arguing (mainly with the groom's obnoxious brother), it was finally the day of the wedding.

The venue was beautiful—set in a charming estate surrounded by lush gardens and towering trees. The ceremony area was perfect, with a white flower-draped arch under the open sky, rows of pristine white chairs, and the sweet scent of roses filling the air. It was the kind of place that made everything feel romantic and magical.

You and the girls had already been styled and were nearly ready to go; it was just Ashley now. As you walked downstairs, you noticed Leon standing near the entrance, greeting guests just like you. He was dressed to perfection in his suit, looking annoyingly smug as usual.

You couldn’t resist. "Where’s your date, Kennedy? Couldn’t find a girl that was willing to risk a headache at your company?" you teased, giving him a sly smile.

Leon raised an eyebrow, unfazed by your jab, but the corner of his mouth twitched in amusement. "I’m not the one who needs a date to look good, sweetheart," he shot back, his grin widening. "But thanks for the offer."

You shot him a pointed look, but before you could respond, Leon’s eyes flicked down to your dress, his smirk growing."Nice dress, by the way," he said, dragging the words out. "Did you get it from your grandma’s collection of curtains?" His tone was dripping with mock sweetness.

You stiffened, fighting the urge to punch him in his stupidly handsome face. "Keep talking, Leon, and you’ll be wishing you hadn’t."

He let out a soft laugh, his eyes twinkling with mock innocence. "Wow, am I supposed to be scared now?" he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Should I start writing my will, or is it more of a 'wait until after the ceremony' situation?"

Not even five minutes into the ordeal, and the bastard was already making you want to strangle him in front of everybody.

Slowly, the guests arrived, settling into their assigned seats, their murmurs of excitement filling the brisk summer air. You and the bridesmaids made your way to the altar, each step echoing in the quiet space.

As your luck played out, it was Leon who stood by you, not just as a guest but as Ryan's brother and best man. His expression was serious now, unlike all the times you’d observed him before, as though he too was caught up in the weight of the moment.

Ryan, on the other hand, looked excited, almost nervous, his hands fidgeting slightly as he stood across from you. His gaze kept drifting toward the back of the venue, eagerly awaiting his bride’s entrance.

And there she was, Ashley, looking more beautiful than ever. The soft rustle of the breeze carried the sound of the music, and the guests, all seated in their chairs under the open sky, turned their attention to her as she made her way down the aisle. The light of the setting sun caught the delicate details of her dress, and her smile was bright enough to rival the afternoon sun. Ryan’s eyes locked onto her, his nervousness melting away into pure admiration.

You felt a small tear prick at your waterline, threatening to spill over. This was your best friend, the girl you’d grown up with, the sister you never had, walking toward a new chapter in her life. Watching her so radiant, so happy, it hit you harder than you expected.

It felt like just yesterday you were both dreaming about days like this, and now here she was, making it all real.

The reception was beautifully done, everything you planned turning out even better than expected. You had to admit, you were proud of everyone who helped bring it all together. The food was fantastic, the atmosphere warm and joyful, and it felt like everything fell into place perfectly. You were able to enjoy yourself, laughing and dancing with all your friends, celebrating with the newlyweds, and soaking in the happiness of the day.

You were on the dance floor with the girls, spinning and laughing to the music, when an older man you recognized as a pretty known politician approached you. It was no surprise that many prominent people had been invited; after all, Ashley’s father had been the president just a few years back. The man was impeccably dressed, his smile warm but professional. "May I have this dance?" he asked, his voice smooth.

A little surprised, you smiled politely and nodded, stepping into his arms. As you danced, the senator’s hand settled a little too low on your back, his fingers brushing the curve of your waist in a way that made you tense. You tried to ignore the uncomfortable feeling creeping up your spine, but it was hard. He leaned in too close, speaking in a low voice, complimenting you on how stunning you looked tonight. His hand lingered, his touch too familiar, and you tried to pull away, but he tightened his grip, forcing you to stay closer.

Leon remained at his table, nursing a glass of whiskey as he engaged in light conversation with some of his friends and family. His eyes wandered around, not focused on anything in particular. Then he saw you, dancing with this guy.

His gaze sharpened, though his expression stayed neutral. He leaned back slightly in his chair, observing the two of you with a mix of curiosity and something more difficult to identify. His fingers tightened around his glass for a moment before he took another sip, though his thoughts seemed distant. The music in the background faded as his attention zeroed in, studying the way you moved with the guy.

You didn’t look like you really enjoyed the moment and he didn’t either. The way the old man’s grimy hands drifted over you made his blood run cold. His jaw clenched involuntarily. It wasn’t just the sight of you with someone else; it was the way he touched you, like you were his to claim. Leon could feel his patience wearing thin, his mind racing with a mix of anger and something darker.

He didn’t know why it bothered him so much, but it did.

Without thinking, he pushed himself up from the table, the chair scraping loudly against the floor. His eyes never left you as he made his way through the crowd, the music blurring around him. His steps quickened as he drew closer, he couldn’t let this go on any longer.

"Hey man, if you don’t mind, I’m gonna steal her from you for a second," Leon said, clapping the guy on the back a little too forcefully, his tone more blunt than necessary.

The senator shot him a confused look, clearly caught off guard, but before he could respond, Leon turned his attention to you.

"Actually, we weren’t d..." he began, but Leon cut him off with a sharp look, his patience running thin.

"The whiskey’s fine, but I’m sure you’re more interested in the oysters. You’re welcome to them," Leon dismissed him, his voice laced with a hint of sarcasm as he ignored the man entirely.

Leon then turned to you, his tone shifting. "So, what do you say, sweetheart? Want to dance?" He extended his hand to you, his gaze intense, waiting for your response.

You hesitated for a moment, then nodded, a small smile playing at the corner of your lips. Leon’s expression softened ever so slightly, and he took one of your small hands in his, placing his other hand on your waist. His grip was firm, but not overpowering, guiding you with ease.

The music faded into the background, the beat barely noticeable as the two of you moved together.

Thank you," you said, cringing internally, already bracing for his inevitable response.

"Princess Y/N, thanking me?" Leon gasped, raising an eyebrow in exaggerated disbelief. "Never thought I'd see the day."

His smirk widened as he leaned in just a bit closer, his voice dropping to a low, teasing tone. "Guess I must be doing something right."

You flashed him a grin, rolling your eyes dramatically. "Don’t get cocky, Kennedy," you shot back, your voice laced with playful sarcasm. "Something tells me you came rushing to save me because you couldn't stand the thought of someone else getting all my attention. Didn’t like seeing how his hands were all over me, huh?"

Leon’s expression wavered for a brief second before he regained his composure, a low laugh slipping from his lips. “Oh, come on, sweetheart. Jealousy’s not my style. You just looked like a mess, and I figured I’d be nice for a change and lend a hand to a damsel in distress.”

You raised an eyebrow, arms crossed as you looked up at him with a cool expression. “Nice try, Leon. You’re so full of yourself, it’s almost impressive. Just don’t get it twisted , we hate each other and you trying to be good for once isn’t going to make you seem like a saint.“

The man smirked, unfazed by your words. He leaned back slightly, his arms folding across his chest as he studied you with a mocking glint in his eyes. “Oh, I’m not trying to be a saint,” he replied, “I’m just doing what any decent person would do. But hey, keep telling yourself whatever helps you sleep at night, Y/N.”

You scoffed, pulling away from Leon. "I’m done with your childish antics. Enjoy the reception, and stop bothering me." Without waiting for a reply, you turned and walked away.

Leon couldn’t help but feel a surge of pride—he loved getting under your skin. It almost excited him, though he couldn’t deny that your smile, rare as it was when aimed at him, was captivating. Standing on the dancefloor, he couldn’t tear his eyes away, watching your figure fade into the crowd.

Had he imagined it, or were you swaying your hips just a little more than usual?

Fucking tease.

A few hours and several bottles of champagne later, the night was winding down. Most people had already gone to bed or left the property. It was three in the morning, yet your group—including the bridesmaids, Ash, Ryan, and a few of his friends—was still going strong.

You slipped away from the group, craving a moment of peace. Stepping outside, you made your way through the quiet night to the terrace. The cool air brushed against your skin as you leaned against the railing, your gaze drifting to the distant lights.

Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed a tall figure a few feet away—broad shoulders, blonde hair. His suit jacket discarded, sleeves rolled up to reveal veiny, muscular forearms. Leon. You weren’t sure if he had noticed you, but your eyes lingered on him, unwilling to look away. You felt something pool in the pit of your stomach.

And then you saw it—the fucker was holding a blunt. You couldn’t help but let out a hearty laugh, the sight of him so unexpected and out of place. Leon slowly turned, raising an eyebrow as he caught your gaze, a half-smirk playing on his lips.

"Aren’t you the one fighting crime, officer?" you teased, a grin spreading across your face.

Leon took a slow drag, his eyes locking with yours. "Well, can't really arrest myself now, can I?" he replied, before adding with a mischievous glint, "But I wouldn't mind arresting you."

You feigned a shocked look, a playful laugh escaping your lips. "Is that a threat or an offer?" you shot back, the tension between you thickening as you couldn't help but smile at his boldness.

The thought of him putting handcuffs on you briefly crossed your mind - for fuck‘s sake.

"Give me a hit!" you demanded, your tone playful yet firm.

Leon raised an eyebrow, his smirk deepening. Without a word, he stepped closer and pressed the blunt to your lips, gently guiding it into your mouth while taking your jaw in his calloused hand. "Jesus, sweetheart, couldn’t have asked nicer," he murmured, his voice low and amused as he watched you.

The way you inhaled the smoke, holding his gaze without flinching, stirred something deep inside Leon. His chest tightened, a burning feeling spreading through him. You were beautiful, effortlessly so, and in that moment, he couldn’t look away.

Slowly, you handed the blunt back to him, your fingers brushing against his. He didn’t pull away; instead, Leon took a step forward, backing you against the railing. And you didn’t stop him. You didn’t know if it was the champagne making you more than just tipsy, the weed, or the mix of both, but in that moment, you didn’t plan on leaving. You stayed, heart racing, fully aware of the heat building between you.

And then you did it. Taking another drag, you closed the small gap between the two of you, your breath mingling with his. You exhaled the smoke slowly, letting it drift into his awaiting mouth, your eyes locked on his the entire time. Leon’s blue orbs were dark now, lust evident in them. You slung your arms around his neck, bringing him even closer. An electric tension crackling between you as you both lingered in the shared space.

Leon inhaled the toxic substance greedily and brought his lips to yours hungrily.

This kiss was anything but sweet. It was filthy and desperate, tongues exploring another, teeth clashing against each other. Both battling for dominance. He pulled you even closer, grasping the back of your neck with one hand, his other on your waist, gripping tightly.

Leon didn’t care about being gentle with you, he was desperate and needed to feel something. To feel you. From the inside out.

Slowly, you broke apart, breathing shallowly. The blunt lay somewhere in the grass, completely forgotten. You had your hands on his broad chest, exploring the taut muscles underneath the thin layer of cotton. Slowly, you peered up at him from under your lashes, "Come to my room?“ you asked, though you both knew that this wasn’t a question. Leon didn’t hesitate for a second. You almost ran to the room, fumbling to find the key to unlock it. When you stepped inside, none of you had bothered to take off their shoes.

In an instant, Leon threw you on the bed and crawled on top of you. With both of his toned arms bracketing your head, he had you caged in, trapped. The man was lowering his lips to yours again. Then he started trailing kisses down your jaw, to your neck. "Fuck, sweetheart, you smell divine. Can’t wait to ruin you.“ he rasped against your skin, clearly at least as intoxicated as you. You could feel the undeniable press of his arousal against your clothed core. „God K-K-Kennedy, make yourself useful and do something about it.“ you mewled, desperate to feel something between your thighs. Leon pushed himself up slightly and hiked your dress higher. Ever so the obedient man. He chuckled when he caught sight of your lace panties "All this for me? How adorable.“

"Shut up," you hissed, sharply pushing his face exactly where you needed him most.

He pushed your thighs apart, dragging his fingertips above the exposed skin, watching with a grin, as you wrothe beneath him impatiently. Then, he took ahold of one of your legs and draped your high-heeled foot above his shoulder. Slowly, the blonde started leaving small pecks from your ankle - placed on his broad front - to the length of your limb, reaching your inner thighs. Gradually he started biting into them, almost breaking the tender skin, causing you to shriek and moan from the pain and frustration, that was building up inside of you.

Afterwards, Leon started kissing and licking at your cunt, still clad in lace. He pulled your underwear up, watching amusedly as your puffy folds encased the delicate fabric. He ripped your panties off with his teeth and sneakily pocketed them in his suit pants.

Leon wanted a reminder of this shared moment, something real but almost unreal, with the woman he had come to hate so deeply over the years.

You were so needy and whiny already and he hasn’t even got to touch you. He began licking a long stripe up the length of your pussy, before sucking on your clit, letting it go with a pop. "Lord!“ you hissed, tangling your fingers in his messy hair and pushing him even deeper into your heat. "The most beautiful meal, sweetheart.“ Leon groaned against your core, his voice muffled by the puffy lips, his nose bumping against your sensitive pearl. He ate you out like a man starved. Every time you slightly squirmed, he would grip your thighs harshly, stopping you from trembling any further.

He added one hand, running it along your slit, carefully easing his index finger into your fluttering hole, while sucking and pulling on your clit with his teeth. You whined and clenched around him as Leon did so, which encouraged him to add another digit into you. Slowly, he stared thrusting in and out of your pussy, enjoying the squelching sounds of your wetness, making you scream his name, while tears were running down your flushed cheeks already "F-Fuckk, Leonnn, ffuuuck, I gotta-gotta pee.“, you screamed at him, in hopes of him stopping. But he didn’t, the man watched as he brought you to your high, a predatory glint in his blue orbs.

You shuddered, the sweet release you had chased, escaping your gaping hole as it catapulted you into another dimension."Dirty slut, look at the mess you made“, he said in a condescending, almost mocking tone as he roughly took your jaw in his large hands, turning your face to make you look around at the aftermath of your arousal. You both knew how much he enjoyed watching you squirt for him.

You slowly reached for the collar off his dress shirt, connecting his lips to yours, being able to taste yourself on Leon’s tongue now. Moaning into the kiss you started tearing his clothes off of him, throwing them somewhere in the room. The man pulled your dress over your head, smirking as your braless tits came into his view, bouncing slightly as you positioned yourself on his, still clothed, manhood. You began to grind on it, teasingly, making him groan needily, looking up at you with hooded eyes "Aghh, n-nneeed to fuck you noww, sweetheart.“ You palmed him through his boxers, noticing a stain of precum on the black fabric, "Ohh baby, you’re just so eager for me.“ you praised, teasing him. Slowly you lowered yourself between his beefy thighs and started giving his cock feather light kisses, eliciting even more desperate growls from your supposed nemesis. He looked down at you with pleading eyes, any remaining trace of smugness gone now. Leon stroked your hair with his hand, almost encouragingly, egging you on to go further.

You just stared up at him though, a mean smile on your full lips.

And before you knew it, he had manhandled you so you were positioned flat on your belly underneath him. Now on top of you again, his boxers off, Leon teased the tip of his dick between your puffy, pink folds, though not entering you yet. You turned your head, trying to sneak a look at his length, when he pushed your head into the mattress. "Look at who’s desperate now.“, he chuckled degradingly, almost sadistically. You could feel his hot breath on the back of your neck.

Slowly, he prodded at your entrance with his tip and without any warning he plunged himself into your pussy fully, a loud groan escaping him. "Leeeonn, oh g-god.“ you babbled, completely cockdrunk in an instant, not comprehending anything. He gave you almost no time to adjust, then he bottomed out completely, his heavy balls slapping against your sensitive clit. Leon took your jaw into his hand and made you gaze at him, keeping eye contact. While still ruthlessly pounding into you, he pried your mouth open with this thumb and spit into it, leaving a string of saliva that connected your lips to his swollen ones. "Swallow, slut.“ And you did, hungry for more, you kissed him again. Teeth clashing against each other from the force he was using to fuck into you. You could feel his tip, pressing against your favourite spot now, making you gasp out an array of profanities.

His other hand had found your needy clit and started rubbing it, pleasuring you even further. With his broad chest, still flush with your back, he left a trail of kisses and bites on your neck and shoulders. The room was filled with sounds of skin slapping against skin and both of your desperate moans and pants. "B-baby aaah, c-can’t last much longeer.“, Leon groaned into the crook of your neck, his tip kissing your cervix simultaneously.

Your fingers entwined on the sheets, you reached your high, at the same time. A shudder went through your whole body as the burning coil in your gut finally snapped, the sweet release coming to you.

His thrusts got sloppier and he spurted his hot sperm into your awaiting womb.

Afterwards Leon and you stayed like that for a bit, basking in the warmth and comfort of each other. He slowly pulled out of your warmth, making sure not to hurt your sore body.

The blonde-haired man started cleaning you up. Afterwards he got back into bed with you, cradling you against his broad chest. You were almost asleep when you mumbled, "I still hate you, Leon.“

He chuckled, his lips grazing the crown of your head as he whispered, "Funny, because I could’ve sworn you were about to say you love me, sweetheart.“

Y‘all I‘m sorry about any spelling errors, I didn’t proofread this thing bc I honestly think it’s not that good. Just had an idea and I wanted to write it down before I forgot. Also lmk if you would want to read more stuff with Leon bc I honestly just love him. For this story I imagined re4 Leon because it would match the storyline by age best but whatever suits you. Thank you for reading, xx

[kvnstwerk]

idk if this is rude or not??? but in your bio where you have "lana enthusiast" and it looks a bit like "ana enthusiast" because the "|" & the "l" blend in together. u might wanna put a space between the L & the bar because i thought for a couple minutes that you supported anorexia😭 and would hate for other people to think the same way

thank u for noticing, i literally wouldn’t have!😭 i‘ve been struggling with ana for some time but i‘m fully recovered now. just wanted to let you guys know that this is something i will never post about. i‘ve been on ed twitter and it was the most triggering place ever, so please don’t even interact with my content if you post content like that. xx

[kvnstwerk]

Being long distance is killing me, but at least he sent me pretty flowers yesterday.

i miss my man i miss my man i miss my man i miss my man i miss my man i miss my man i miss my man i miss my man i miss my man i miss my man i miss my man i miss my man

[kvnstwerk]

Uninvited Pt. 2

Part 1

Pairing: Dark!Rick Grimes x !Neighbour! Reader

Summary: After confronting your stalker backfired, you decided to avoid him completely. Of course, that never works—he always finds a way to be near you. After all, you're his greatest obsession.

Warnings: Age Gap, Humiliation, Mind Games, Stalking, Swearing, Non Con, Somnophilia, Smut, Oral Recieving (F.), Fingering, Manipulation, Obsessive Behaviour, Corruption, Rick being creepy again

You had confronted him, hadn’t you? Told him to back off, demanded answers, and tried to make it clear that his constant presence was unwelcome.

But Rick simply didn’t care. In fact, he almost seemed relieved that his obsession with you was no longer a secret. He started to enjoy it—the way you’d flinch when his gaze locked onto yours, the way your angelic eyes widened in fear when you made eye contact. The way your breathing grew shallow when you noticed him standing just behind you.

It was unsettling, the way he took pleasure in your discomfort. He wasn’t even trying to hide it anymore, and that made it all the more chilling. He didn’t care if you were uncomfortable. In fact, it seemed like it was exactly what he wanted—to watch you squirm.

Of course, you had thought about going to someone—anyone—but who? Daryl? He’d never question Rick’s intentions, not after everything they’d been through. Aaron? Maybe, but you weren’t sure he’d understand either. Besides, they all trusted Rick, and once they knew you were accusing him of something, they might not look at you the same way again.

And even if you did speak up, who would believe you? Rick was Rick Grimes, the man who had led them through hell and back. You were just another survivor, a small part of the larger picture. If you told anyone about the way he’d been watching you, you’d be seen as paranoid. The leader wouldn’t be the one scrutinized; you would be.

So, you did what seemed the most logical thing to you—you avoided him.

But the world doesn’t always cooperate with plans to avoid trouble, especially when life in Alexandria has a way of pushing people together.

That evening, you received the invitation with the rest of the group—a community tradition, a monthly grill fest where everyone gathered to unwind, share food, and pretend for a few hours that the world outside didn’t exist. You had attended these events before, but now the idea of being in the same space as Rick made your stomach twist into knots.

You weren’t going to attend. You wanted nothing more than to back out. But you’d just been on a supply run that morning, and you couldn’t come up with another excuse without raising suspicions. People had already noticed the way you’d been avoiding Rick, pulling away at every opportunity. If you skipped out on the grill fest now, someone might ask why, and you couldn’t risk drawing more attention to yourself.

So, you went to the celebration. This time, it was being held at Martha and Ben’s house. The couple were good friends of yours, and you’d arrived in Alexandria together. They had welcomed you both with open arms when you first joined the community, and their friendship had been one of the few things that made the transition easier. There had been nights spent at their house, swapping stories about the old world and laughing like things would never change. Martha and Ben were a steady presence in a world that felt anything but, and right now, you needed that steadiness more than ever.

As you stepped into their home, the familiar warmth washed over you—the smell of grilled food and the sound of light chatter in the background. The atmosphere was relaxed, people scattered around the room, laughing, enjoying the rare peace that had become more precious than ever. But as you walked further in, your eyes immediately found him. Rick. He stood near the kitchen, talking with a few others, but as soon as he noticed you, his eyes locked onto yours. The intensity of his gaze made your stomach drop.

You swallowed hard, trying to ignore the unsettling pull in your chest. It was impossible not to notice how his expression shifted, that familiar look of satisfaction settling on his face. He didn’t even try to hide it. You knew he wasn’t just watching you out of casual curiosity—he was watching you like a hunter watches its prey.

“Hey, there you are,” Martha said, her voice bringing you back to the present. She smiled warmly, pulling you into a hug. “Glad you could make it. Everything’s been great so far. The food’s almost ready, but come on, have a seat.”

You gave her a tight smile and nodded, feeling the tightness in your chest grow with every step you took. You tried to breathe deeply to calm yourself, but you couldn't shake the feeling that Rick's eyes were glued to you, following your every move.

Just as you were about to take a seat, Rick walked over, his heavy footsteps cutting through the room. Before you could react, he was standing right in front of you. His gaze flickered briefly to Martha and Ben before locking back onto you. The smile he wore was almost too calm, too controlled.

“Mind if I talk to you for a minute, Y/n?” he asked, his voice low, but loud enough to be heard by everyone. It wasn’t a question, not really.

Martha and Ben exchanged a quick glance, but neither of them seemed to notice the tension between you and Rick. They smiled politely, unaware of the storm brewing between you two.

“Oh, sure,” Martha said with a casual wave. “We’ll grab drinks. You two catch up.”

You barely heard them as they moved away, leaving you alone with Rick. The last thing you wanted was to be alone with him, to have him corner you in front of everyone. You could feel the heat of his stare, that unsettling satisfaction in his eyes as if he was savoring every moment of discomfort he was putting you through.

“Rick, I—” You started, trying to find the words to shut him down before this went any further.

But he didn’t let you finish. “I know you’re scared of me,” he said, his voice softer now, almost like a confession. “But I want you to understand, I’m not going anywhere. You can’t avoid me forever.”

Your heart began to race, a mix of fear and frustration bubbling up inside you. “This is not the time, Rick,” you said through clenched teeth, trying to keep your voice steady. “Not here, not now.”

He smiled, almost too knowingly, and for a moment, you wondered if anyone could see through his mask. “Oh angel, I think it’s exactly the right time,” he said. “But don’t worry, we’ll get to that later.”

His words sent a chill through you, the way he spoke them—so confident, so certain—like he already knew what would happen next. You could feel his presence pressing against you, daring you to react, daring you to show just how much you wanted to escape.

Before you could respond, Ben called from across the room, pulling Rick’s attention away for just a second. “Hey, Rick! You want a drink?”

Rick looked over, nodding briefly, but his eyes never left you. “I’ll be right back,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper, the last part just for you.

You managed to keep yourself together for the rest of the night, focusing on the conversations around you and the warmth of the community. There were moments when you genuinely found yourself laughing, talking with people you hadn’t seen in a while, and for a brief moment, you almost felt normal again. When the evening finally came to a close, Spencer walked you home, offering light conversation to ease the quiet of the night. His company, as always, was comforting.

As you reached your house, you thanked him for walking you back and exchanged a few final words before heading inside. The quiet of your home wrapped around you like a soft blanket, providing a sense of peace, though it didn't quite erase the tension you carried.

It took longer than usual to settle down. Your mind raced through the events of the evening, the faces, the conversations, and everything in between. It felt like your body wanted to keep moving, but the weight of the day gradually began to take over. Eventually, exhaustion won, and sleep found you.

Now, the moment had finally come. Rick was already lurking in the shadows of your house when you arrived with Spencer, but Spencer had long since disappeared, leaving you deeply asleep. Rick’s hatred for Spencer was evident—he loathed him, every fiber of his being burning with contempt. But beneath that anger, there was something else. It was clear how much he wanted you, his eyes practically igniting with desire. Spencer, in Rick’s eyes, was like a dog—desperate and fucking pathetic, constantly chasing after you for a scrap of attention. He was like a little boy, fumbling, eager, but completely incapable of giving you what you needed. His pursuit was clumsy and unrefined, a never-ending attempt to win affection in a way that was meaningless. That bastard was the dog begging for scraps, while Rick was the predator, knowing exactly what you wanted, and biding his time to claim what he felt was rightfully his.

The tension in the room hung heavy and for a moment, he just stood above you, watching his angel peacefully rest. He found you so gorgeous, it was almost maddening. The way you slept so innocently, unaware of the chaos simmering just a breath away from you, only fueled his obsession. His heart raced as his gaze lingered on you.

He thought back to the previous evening at the celebration.

You had looked so incredibly ravishing in that sundress, with it’s little slit on the side that revealed your long, tanned legs. He wanted nothing more than to get on his knees in front of you and kiss his way up them to lap at your fucking cunt.

You were his goddess, and he was the desperate man, praying to you every day and night, completely at your mercy. How could you be so oblivious, so unaware of the hold you had on him? Every part of him ached for you, yet it seemed like you remained untouched by the intensity of his feelings.

Your sleeping form stirred slightly, and the blanket that had been draped over you slid down. Rick noticed it then, and he couldn’t believe his eyes.

His naughty angel wasn’t wearing any panties. From his spot in front of your bed, the older man had a perfect view of your, now exposed, lush cunt. "Oh Y/n, what a perfect little slut you are...practically begging to wake up with my dick stuffed inside of that pretty pussy.“, he darkly chuckled, even though you wouldn’t hear him.

You had only worn a oversized shirt to bed. And in this instant the man wanted to rip it from your body to leave you completely bare for him.

He just had to have you now, it couldn’t wait for another time. His cock was already rock hard and straining against his jeans. It was beginning to get uncomfortable and he had to do something about it.

Slowly, to not risk waking you, Rick removed the blanket completely.

Gently, he slid his index finger against the curve of your leg and observed as a layer of goosebumps formed there.

You were utterly captivating, and even in your slumber, he couldn’t stop himself from fixating on every detail of you, consumed by a craving he knew he couldn’t shake.

Then Rick spread your legs further apart, so that he could settle in between them.

He was amazed at the softness of your skin and it made him want to bite into the creamy texture and mark it.

Now he was face-to-face with your already glistening lips. My god, where you always this wet?

The man pushed your shirt up and looked down at your sleeping form. That soft, flat, beautiful belly…he wanted to pump you full with his seed and watch it grow as you had no choice but to give him babies. The thought of you, knocked up and unable to think of anything but him, made him even harder. Never in his life had Rick ever been this desperate for a woman.

He started trailing hot, wet kisses from your lower abdomen, to your left hipbone and then over to your right one.

The man took his time, knowing that you weren’t going anywhere. Slowly, he started getting closer and closer to your center. He took in your smell, it was captivating. Musky-sweet, just completely mouth watering. Rick felt like a starved man now, you were the oasis in the middle of the desert and only you could save him from dying. He pulled apart your pussy lips, hungrily eyed your swollen clit and gave it a kiss. He started licking up and down along your slit, trying to collect all the juice that was suddenly gushing out of your needy hole. You tasted exquisite, even better than he had expected in his wettest dreams. Rick moved to your pearl now, taking it between his teeth, lightly pulling on it. You stirred and a small noise escaped your now open mouth. It was almost like a moan. Rick stilled and waited for the right moment to continue his feast. Slowly he started lapping at you again, entering you with his tongue. He became more aggressive with it, not being able to hold back anymore, when he heard another moan coming from you.

Now it was clear, you were a fucking horny slut and very clearly enjoying this. Rick didn’t care anymore, he wanted you to see who was responsible for making you feel this good. He continued to tongue at your sensitive cunt and almost buried his face in it, the little whimpers coming out of the woman beneath him only encouraging him more and more.

Then he heard it, your angelic, soft voice,"R-Rick?“, you sounded sleepy, not entirely comprehending what was going on. "What are you…ughhh..doing?“

He chuckled huskily, "Shh Baby, just relax and let it happen. Be still for me now.“

You tried to scoot away, but the man gave your cunt a sharp stinging slap and immediately gripped your thighs, making you unable to move. His touch was hard now and his hands would surely leave marks, that would last for the entire week. You were scared, but that was always how you felt whenever Rick Grimes was close.

You felt another sensation that you couldn’t quite place, almost like you were actually enjoying this here. But no…that couldn’t be right. This man was clearly deranged and sick in the head. You despised him. You shouldn’t and couldn’t like what he was doing to you right now. "P-Please, let me go.“, you pleaded with him, almost whimpering. A tear escaped from your eye and he stopped licking your pussy, instead using his fingers to rub you. He got closer to your face while still using his hand on you as he slowly licked the tears from your cheeks. He got even closer, his hot breath on your neck now, "Crying won’t help you, little Angel. S’only turns me on more.“, he whispered.

Then, Rick started pushing two of his long, thick digits inside of your pussy. "Fuuuck Y/n, you are dripping for me.“, he gushed. You couldn’t deny it, it felt so good and so different from the sensation of your much smaller fingers. A part of you felt disgusted by the way you were enjoying this but you felt so close now. "I-I hate you, Rick!“, you spat, not willing to admit out loud, that you did not want him to stop pleasing you. "You sure do, Baby. But what if I love, how much you hate me.“, he said with a laugh,"Tell me to stop and I will.“

But you didn’t. It was too late already.

You let him abuse your tight hole, now using three fingers on you while rubbing your clit with his other hand. He thrusted in and out of you, relentlessly. And then you came, hard.

It felt like nothing you’ve ever felt before and your whole body was shaking uncontrollably. For a second you just lay there, feeling like someone had just pulled the plug.

Before you had a chance to completely calm down from the high, Rick instructed,“Open your mouth.“ He stuck his thick fingers, still covered in your release, inside your awaiting mouth. He pushed them in so deep, that you started to gag on them, almost choking. Then you started sucking eagerly, making obscene, lewd slurping noises. "Oh, you are going to be the death of me, my sweet little baby.“, Rick groaned huskily.

Slowly, the man took your jaw into his hand and turned your face back to his. He just stared into your eyes for a moment, gradually your lips moved towards another and then they met. His were still a bit wet from what had happened just minutes ago. You expected the kiss to be messy and wild, fuelled by hatred or you both trying to fight for dominance. But it was surprisingly soft. Rick kissed you with such care, handling you like you were made of glass, a stark contrast to his usual roughness.

It left you wondering if he felt guilty about what had just unfolded between the two of you. You were much younger than him and still so inexperienced.

What you didn’t know is that those traits were what had pulled Rick into a trance, you were a small doll, easy to break.

And he was not done until he had shattered you completely.

I just finished reading Haunting Adeline, and with the series focusing on Zade Meadows, I couldn't help but notice the lack of dark Rick fanfics out there. So, I decided to share mine! I hope you all enjoy it. Have a great weekend!

[kvnstwerk]

Uninvited Pt. 1

Part 2

Pairing: !Dark!Rick Grimes x !Neighbour! Reader

Summary: After welcoming a new group into Alexandria things start getting strange. You feel as if someone is by your side at all times.

Warnings: Stalking, Harassment, Obsessive Behaviour, Sexual Remarks, Manipulation, Corruption, Age Gap, Rick being creepy

Rick Grimes should have never opened the door when you knocked.

It all started the day after his arrival in Alexandria. There you stood, a basket of homemade baked goods in your small hands, a bright, toothy smile on your doll-like, freckled face. You couldn’t have been any older than your early twenties."Good morning, Mr. Grimes. My name is Y/n. I wanted to introduce myself and welcome you to our community. Let me know if you need help with anything," you chirped.

The man was more than just intrigued. Honestly, he was a bit taken aback by how bold you seemed. From what he’d observed about the other residents, they all seemed pretty reserved. But you weren’t intimidated by him—not even a little. A guy who had clearly been discussed all around town already. They probably called him all sorts of things: a killer, a neanderthal, a madman.But he wasn’t planning on killing you. Oh no… he had very clear plans for this little angel. That’s what he decided to call you the moment his eyes landed on your small frame for the first time.

From that day on, you were the only thing important enough to occupy his mind. Rick spent his days consumed by thoughts of you and your innocent, girlish demeanor. He knew it was all just an act, and he was determined to corrupt you once and for all.

He was going to make you crave him just as much as he craved you.

To achieve this and make you all his, he created a plan.It started off pretty simple, actually. Rick managed to coerce Deanna into giving him a spare set of keys that would allow him to enter all the properties on the grounds of Alexandria. He had a talent for persuading people into giving him what he wanted. He justified it as a way to ensure the community’s safety—checking for hidden threats, securing vulnerable spots. But deep down, he knew it was about more than that. Having the keys meant he could always be close to his angel, and he would be able to protect you at any time. And you didn’t even have to know it.

So, then he started sneaking into your house. At first, he only came to you in the deep of night, when he was sure everyone else in town would be fast asleep. He would watch his precious girl while she was sleeping, her peaceful breaths and gentle movements under the covers making his heart race. It was like he was witnessing something sacred, something fragile, and he was the protector of it all. His hands itched to reach out, to touch your silky skin, but he always resisted. He couldn’t risk getting caught—not yet. Not when you still saw him as just another neighbor, someone who might wave at you in passing or help you carry your groceries.

Instead, he started leaving you little gifts. This was his way of showing you affection. He would leave roses in every single room of your house. Sometimes he would even come in broad daylight. Then, he got even bolder and started leaving you notes. He was always direct when stating what he wanted to do to you, though he always made sure to keep the messages subtle enough that you wouldn’t feel threatened—at least not at first. His words were wrapped in polite phrases, almost poetic in a way, but there was no mistaking the intent behind them. The notes would be left where you’d find them: on your kitchen counter, under your pillow, tucked into the pages of your favorite book.

"I can’t stop thinking about the way you look when you laugh. You are so beautiful and you make me feel alive again, angel."

At first, you might have thought they were just innocent gestures, a quirky way of showing appreciation for a friendly neighbor. But as time went on, you began to feel a growing unease, a sense that there was something more lurking beneath the surface. Each gift seemed to carry an unspoken message, an invitation to something deeper, something darker.

One evening, after you found a particularly unsettling note hidden in your coat pocket, you decided to confront him. This had just entirely crossed the line.

"I enjoy watching you play with yourself. Just image what my head could do between your thighs if you would just succumb and become my little slut.“

The next time you saw Rick, he was standing in his usual spot on the porch, eyes scanning the street as if waiting for something. You approached with the note clenched tightly in your hand, your heart pounding in your chest."Mr. Grimes," you said, your voice steady despite the nerves twisting in your stomach. "We need to talk."

Rick turned slowly, his expression unreadable at first. Then, when his gaze landed on the note, his lips curled into a small, almost imperceptible smile."I figured you'd find it eventually," he said, his voice low and almost tender. "I just wanted you to know how much you mean to me."

You shook your head, backing away slightly. "This isn't normal, Rick. You can’t just—"

He stepped closer, his presence overwhelming as he cut you off. "It is normal for me, angel," he said softly. "You make me feel alive again. You make me want to protect you, to keep you safe... in ways you can't even begin to understand yet."

The words hung in the air like a weight, suffocating you. For a moment, you couldn’t speak, couldn’t move. Everything in you screamed to run, to escape, but your feet stayed frozen.

Rick wasn’t just a neighbor anymore. He wasn’t just someone you had met briefly and hoped to befriend, maybe even felt a bit attracted to at one point. He had become something much more dangerous. And in that moment, as he took another step forward, you realized just how deeply entangled you were in his web.

Rick Grimes had already claimed you. And now, there was no escaping him.

[kvnstwerk]

Beneath the Ruins

Part 2

Part 1

Shane Walsh x !Best Friends Daughter! Reader

Summary: After sucessfully escaping the chaos of the outbreak of the apocalypse it is time to get to the survivor camp in Atlanta where they can hopefully manage to get the cure to this mysterious virus.

Warnings: Age Gap, implied sexualization, mentions of death

Grief was a bitter pill to swallow, but you had no choice but to force it down. The world had already fallen apart, and every breath you took felt like it might be your last.

The infection spread quickly, faster than anyone had imagined. It wasn’t just the fear of turning into one of those things that gnawed at you—it was the fact that every day felt like a countdown. The threat of death hung like a storm cloud, and there was no safe place to hide from it.

You, your father, and Shane Walsh—your father’s best friend—were heading south to Atlanta. Rumors of the largest safe camp for survivors and a possible cure had spread, but no one knew for sure if it was real.

The road was treacherous, abandoned cars littering the highways—signs of the mass panic that had swallowed the world whole. Each time you passed a burned-out building or, worse, a body, it reminded you of how fragile everything had become. The road, once a symbol of freedom, now felt like a death sentence. Every mile, every turn, seemed to carry a heavier weight.

Shane’s eyes flicked to the rearview mirror, scanning the road behind you with the sharp intensity of someone who had seen too many horrors. You watched him, the rigid set of his jaw, the way his large hands gripped the steering wheel like it was the only thing holding him together. He was trying to act like he wasn’t bothered, like this was just another stretch of road to cross, but you knew better. You knew Shane.

The silence between the three of you was suffocating, and no matter how hard you tried to distract your thoughts, they always found their way back to her—your mother. Her tragic end had been too quick, too sudden—like a punch to the gut you couldn’t prepare for. You tried to bury those thoughts, tried to push them down, but they resurfaced when you least expected it. That’s what grief did, after all. It was relentless. It clawed at you, just like the world outside.

But tonight, there was something else gnawing at you—something you couldn’t ignore. Something that twisted itself around your insides like a slow-burning fire.

Why didn’t Shane have any family? No wife. No kids. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d seen him with a girlfriend, either. He was always alone in that way. He kept to himself, let his guard down only when he was with your father. But even then, there was something off about him, something you couldn’t quite put your finger on.

You’d asked him before, countless times, always with the same teasing smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. "You know, doll, I haven’t met the woman I’m planning on settin' down with yet."

"Doll."

It was a nickname he’d given you since you were a little girl, and in those early days, it had always felt like a shield—something warm and comforting in a world that felt so big and unpredictable.

But that answer never felt right. It was too rehearsed. Too perfect, like he was hiding behind it. And in a world that had lost everything—love, security, humanity—his indifference to settling down made no sense to you. He was more than just handsome and charming, with that rugged edge that made people stop and stare. Shane had always been the kind of man people gravitated toward, the kind of man who could make you feel seen without even trying. And yet, here he was, constantly pushing away any chance of connection. It didn’t make sense to you.

Your eyes flicked to him again as the car rattled along the desolate road, the harsh light from the headlights casting fleeting shadows across his face. And for a split second, your gazes met—his dark, intense eyes locking with yours. A brief moment, yet enough to send a chill down your spine.

He shot you a wink, that same casual grin curling at the corner of his lips, but this time it didn’t land the same way. It felt hollow. Almost forced. You saw through it. The cracks in the armor were visible, no matter how hard he tried to cover them up.

You wanted to ask him again, to push him further, but something held you back. The vehicle rattled on, the noise almost drowning out the words hanging in the air. You felt the weight of your father’s presence in the passenger seat, the quiet man who had been by your side through everything, now dozing off, oblivious to the tension between you and Shane. He hadn’t said a word in hours, lost to exhaustion, leaving the silence between you and Shane even more deafening.

You knew Shane was carrying something—a burden, a past he never spoke of. And you had a sinking feeling that whatever it was, it had nothing to do with you. He kept pushing you away, kept calling you doll, but never once allowed the conversation to go deeper. You weren’t stupid; you could see the way he watched you sometimes, the way his gaze lingered longer than it should—and in places where it shouldn’t. And you knew, deep down, that you weren't just another person to him. Not really.

The problem was that he was so damn good at hiding it. So damn good at pretending everything was fine.

You stole another glance at him. His jaw was tight, and his eyes remained locked on the road ahead. His shoulders were stiff, his posture rigid. His usual swagger had faded. This was a man at war—not with the world, but with himself.

As you opened your mouth to finally say something to relieve the tension, your father shifted in his seat, muttering under his breath.

“Where are we headed, Shane? You keep saying Atlanta, but we don’t know if it’s any safer down there.”

He still sounded tired, worn out from everything you’d all been through, but there was an edge to his words. He was trying to pull his best friend into the conversation, trying to lighten the mood. But it didn’t work.

Shane’s grip on the steering wheel tightened, and his eyes darted to your father for just a moment. His response came out cold, sharp almost. "We’re headed south. That’s where we’re goin’.” His voice was clipped, almost defensive.

You felt the air shift in the car. Your father, for all his gruffness, must have felt the change too because his eyes flickered to you. You could almost hear the question in his mind: What’s going on with him?

Shane, as always, turned the conversation back to survival. “You know the drill. Keep your guard up. We don’t know what’s ahead.” But it was just words, nothing more. The kind of words that covered up something bigger, something deeper that neither of you were brave enough to acknowledge.

The miles ticked by in silence, the only sound the hum of the engine and the occasional creak of the tires against the rough terrain. The sun was sinking lower in the sky, casting long shadows across the desolate landscape. It felt like you were driving through a ghost world, a place that used to be full of life, now abandoned and barren.

As the hours dragged on, exhaustion started to settle into your bones. Your father had dozed off in the passenger seat, his breathing slow and steady, but Shane remained as tense as ever, his hands gripping the steering wheel with white-knuckled determination. He hadn’t said much since your last conversation, and you could feel the heaviness in the air between you, thick with unsaid words.

Eventually, you saw it—an old, run-down sign for a lake just off the road, barely visible beneath the overgrowth of weeds and vines. It was small, secluded, but it would do. A place to rest for the night, away from whatever dangers lurked further down the road.

You pointed it out, your voice soft yet carrying an unspoken urgency. “We should camp here.”

Shane glanced at the sign, then at the darkening sky. He didn’t say anything at first, just kept his eyes on the road for a moment longer, the wheels turning in his mind. It wasn’t a safe place. You could tell just by the look of it. But then again, did you have the luxury to be picky in times like these?

He let out a long sigh and finally nodded, his voice low. “Yeah. We’ll make camp. We’ll take shifts.”

You could tell he wasn’t thrilled with the idea, but there was something else in his tone—a kind of resigned acceptance. Like he was used to making hard choices in the absence of good ones. Like he knew there was no perfect place to hide in a world like this.

He eased the car off the road and slowly steered toward the small clearing near the lake. The headlights illuminated the area briefly, and you could make out the faint glimmer of the water, surrounded by trees. The air was thick with the smell of damp earth and decay, but it was better than nothing.

Once the car stopped, you all piled out, the weight of the day’s journey catching up with you in an instant. Your father stretched, groaning slightly, and Shane went to the back of the car to pull out the supplies.

“Set up by the water, but stay alert,” he said, his voice carrying the edge of someone who had learned to never let their guard down.

You nodded, even though you could feel the weariness seeping into your bones. It had been too long since you’d had a real rest, and the temptation to just let everything go for a few hours was strong. But you couldn’t. You wouldn’t.

Your father wandered toward the water, his steps slow and measured, his eyes scanning the area as if he were searching for any sign of danger. Shane, on the other hand, was already moving with purpose, gathering the supplies and setting up a small fire. His movements were quick, but you could see the tension in his shoulders, the way his eyes kept flicking toward the trees, as though he was expecting something to jump out at him at any moment.

You worked silently alongside him, but as you moved to set up your sleeping bag, you caught him watching you out of the corner of his eye. His expression was unreadable, as usual, but there was something in the way his gaze lingered on you for a moment longer than necessary. The air between you felt charged again, like there was something he wanted to say but couldn’t.

You wanted to ask him again, to press him for the truth. But you didn’t. You weren’t sure if you had the strength to do it tonight. The weight of the world was already heavy enough. And there was something about the way he seemed so determined to keep everything locked inside that made you hesitate.

Your father sat by the edge of the lake, his hands resting on his knees, staring out over the water. He wasn’t asleep. You knew that much. His body might have been still, but his mind was a thousand miles away, lost in the same thoughts he couldn’t outrun. He never slept soundly anymore—not after everything that had happened, not after the world had fallen apart around them.

But for now, he was at least still, the quiet of the night offering him a brief moment of peace. You could see it in the way his shoulders were slumped just a little bit less, as though the weight of it all had lightened, even just a fraction. It wasn’t much, but in a world that had stripped away so much, even small moments of peace felt like a gift.

You turned your attention back to Shane, who had pulled a blanket out of the car and was now sitting across from the fire, his posture rigid, eyes scanning the perimeter, never fully allowing himself to relax. His focus never wavered from the dark woods surrounding the small camp. It was like he was always waiting for something to happen, anticipating danger, the same way he’d lived his entire life in the chaos of this new world.

You knew he wasn’t the type to sit still for long. The longer you watched him, the more you realized just how tightly wound he was. He was good at keeping up appearances, at pretending to be unaffected by everything—by the loss, the fear, the survival—but you could see the cracks in the facade. You’d been watching him for years, and you knew the signs.

"Shane," you said quietly, breaking the silence, "you really think it’s safe here?"

He glanced up from the fire, his sharp eyes briefly meeting yours before flicking away to the trees again. "It’s safer than out there," he replied, voice calm but guarded, the same response he always gave.

But you weren’t sure if he even believed it anymore.

You wanted to press him, to ask him more, but you held back. You knew better than to push him when he was in this mood. Instead, you shifted your gaze, taking in the quiet of the night, the eerily calm water reflecting the pale glow of the moon. It was a peaceful scene—one that didn’t quite match the world outside this small camp. And for the first time in a while, you let yourself take in the quiet, knowing that it wouldn’t last long.

[kvnstwerk]

[kvnstwerk]

Beneath the Ruins Pt. 1

Part 2

Shane Walsh x !Best Friends Daughter! Reader

Summary: The apocalypse has broken out and reader is currently at work when Shane saves her. Together they flee to her parents (his best friend‘s) house where they encounter another issue.

Warnings: Age Gap, Graphic descriptions, blood, death, no smut tho (not yet hehe)

It all ended so abruptly.

You had just graduated from high school, preparing to move into your dorm at MIT, when everything fell apart. The world as you knew it shattered overnight, and now, there was nothing left to look forward to. Every day was about surviving, making it to the next one, hoping you wouldn't be consumed by the revolting mutations that had taken over. Zombies.

The outbreak started out slowly—rumors of a strange illness spreading through the country, but it didn’t take long for the truth to hit. Chaos followed. People turned into mindless, ravenous monsters, and the world was thrown into darkness. Within weeks, civilization had broken down.

Where would your next meal come from? Where could you find shelter for the night? Who would die next? Those were the questions that consumed your mind now, the only ones that mattered.

You had been working your Saturday shift at the coffee shop, just around the corner from your parents' house, when it all began. The first signs were small, unnoticeable. A few customers started talking about strange things happening around the city—odd news reports, scary stories from the streets.

But then it hit.

A man stumbled in, blood dripping from his arm, his face pale and his pupils unnaturally dilated. He lunged at a customer, biting into his neck like a rabid animal, tearing the flesh and muscles out of this poor guy’s body.

Everything turned to chaos in an instant. People screamed, scattered, and the world outside exploded.

Shane, your dad’s best friend, had been there too. He was just sitting at the counter, waiting to pick up his order while being on his lunch break , when it all started. He jumped into action, pulling you behind the counter for cover as the panic spread. “Stay down!” he shouted, his voice barely audible over the chaos. Shane had always been a very collected and patient man, but now he was different—focused, survival instincts kicking in.

You didn’t know what happened after that. It was a blur of running, of chaos, of people being ripped apart by those things. You and Shane fled to your parents' house, your safe haven in the middle of all this madness. There, you locked yourselves inside, hearing the sounds of destruction in the distance as the world outside fell apart.

You saw your father pacing around the living room, his face ghostly pale. His usual composure was gone, replaced by a frantic energy that made you uneasy. Then you saw it. His white button-down shirt, usually crisp and immaculate, was soaked in blood. It had splattered across his chest, and as you took a closer look, you could see it on his face too, little dots of crimson that didn't belong.

"Where is Mom?" you asked, your voice trembling.

He didn’t respond. His eyes were locked on the floor, his hands shaking as he continued pacing, not sparing a glance in your direction.

"Dad? Where is she?" you repeated, more urgently now, a knot of dread tightening in your stomach.

Then you heard it. Upstairs. Just above you. The sound was sickening—an ear-splitting, guttural noise, followed by the unmistakable banging and groaning that you had come to dread.

They got her.

The realization hit you like a punch to the gut. Your mother was gone.

"I tried to save her, but she would have killed me too," your father finally muttered, his voice hollow, as though the life had been drained from him. He sounded lost, broken. "I had no choice, sweetheart. I couldn’t risk leaving you alone."

The words barely registered, a blur of sounds in your mind as the reality crashed down on you. But the truth settled in like ice in your veins, cold and unforgiving.

Your mother was gone.

"John, let me tell you something," Shane finally spoke up, his voice firm but tinged with urgency. "We have to go up there and stop this, man. Leaving her like this... it’s cruel. And then we have to go. Staying here isn’t an option anymore."

Ever the logical man, Shane’s words echoed in the silence.

But you wouldn’t go upstairs. You just couldn’t. The thought of your mother—the woman who brought you into this world—no longer being human, reduced to something monstrous, was more than you could bear. The very idea twisted your stomach, and you couldn’t bring yourself to face it.

You watched them go up, Shane leading the way—his cop Glock gripped tightly in his hand—your father right behind him, wielding an axe with a trembling resolve.

A few seconds of thrashing, of banging, and then… silence.

It felt like hours stretched into nothingness. The oppressive stillness hung heavy in the air, and you were left alone, sitting on the cold kitchen floor, your body aching with the fight against the tears threatening to spill.

Then, they finally returned downstairs, both looking somewhat altered.Shane’s face was grim, his eyes vacant, as if the weight of what he had just done was starting to sink in. His usual calm, protective demeanor had cracked, leaving behind a rawness that made your chest tighten. Your father, on the other hand, looked drained, his shoulders slumped in a way you had never seen before. It was almost like he felt defeated, a side of him you’d never imagined could exist—the man you had always seen as unrepentant was now broken.

Nobody said a word. What could possibly be said after everything that had just unfolded?The silence was suffocating as you all began packing the little things you could carry, the necessities for your journey to… where, exactly? None of you knew. Maybe there would be some information about a camp for survivors, some faint glimmer of hope. But it was hard to believe in hope now, not with everything that had already been lost.

As you moved around, packing, your hands brushed Shane’s by accident. You both froze for a beat, the moment stretching longer than it should have. The air between you felt different now, heavy. This wasn’t just the man who’d saved you anymore. The connection between you had shifted. Your pulse picked up, a strange mix of unease and something else—something you couldn't quite place.

next Part

I finally decided it was time to return to writing, and since I’ve started rewatching Twd for what feels like the 5th time, I just had to write about Shane, the dilf of all dilfs. Also someone please tell me you got the reference or else I‘ll cry. Let me know if you'd be interested in a Part 2. Until next time, x

[kvnstwerk]

I Hate You, Too

Authors Note:

NSFW

I got an enemies to lovers request from a reader just over two weeks ago, and shocker, it’s took me this long to write it. The brief was pretty open, just an enemies to lovers trope that featured smut, so that’s my take it on this. This is the first smut I’ve written for Harry and my first smut in a long, long time.

As always, reblogs, likes, feedback is appreciated and encouraged !!

Lots of love, G xo

Pairing: Harry Styles x Reader

Warnings: Smut, please only read if you are 18+

Contains: A friends birthday night out, confrontation with Harry, heavy petting in the back of the taxi, smut when you get back home

Word Count: 12.1k

MASTERLIST

***

“Nah, I don’t think I can make it,” Y/N said her hands wrapping round her steaming coffee cup.

“I haven’t even told you when it is, babe” Sarah replied with an unamused look on her face and a quirk in her eyebrow.

“Look I love you, but a night out, just isn’t really my thing just now,” Y/N took a mouthful of her latte and sat back in the warm leather chair of the coffee shop they were meeting up in.

“Well, that’s a lie, you love a night out more than anyone else I know,” Sarah chuckled at her friends lie. She was right as well, Y/N loved a night out. “Look, it’s my birthday, it’s just dinner and drinks. Plus, I don’t get to see you that often anymore either,” Sarah said a small pout playing at her lips, she knew if she played her cards right and pouted and put the puppy dog eyes on at the right moment, Y/N would be a goner and agree to come.

“You’re seeing me now,” Y/N said pointedly.

“Y/N…” Sarah sighed.

“No, I know, I’m sorry. Do you not have any other free night we could do something, just us?” Y/N asked.

“This is my only properly free night; I just want my best friend there.” Then she done it, Sarah deployed the puppy dog eyes and laid the pout on thick.

“Ugh, get that look wiped off your face, Sarah,” Y/N groaned, squeezing her eyes shut as to not see her best friend’s sad look. “Y’know I fall for it every time,” she said grumbling.

“Is it working now?” asked Sarah, a teasing lilt to her voice. “Come on, you know you’ll have a good time, loads of people are going, friends I know for a fact, you’ve not seen in ages, just come.”

“Fuck’s sake, Sarah, fine. I’ll be there,” she huffed out. “Just text me the details or something. Who is all coming anyway?” Y/N mused.

“Oh, I’ve asked a lot, we got someone to watch the baby, so Mitch will be there, Charlotte’s coming, we’ve not seen her for ages.” Sarah grinned excitedly, clearly looking forward to her celebration more now that Y/N had agreed to come.

“Is he coming?” Y/N probed; a tone of distaste evident in her voice.

“Who?” the brunette woman asked nonchalantly. She knew exactly who.

“The prize knobhead himself, will Mr Styles, be gracing us with his presence?” Y/N muttered.

“He’s not a knob-” Sarah started.

“Well, he seems like it, the way he treats and acts around me,” she shot back.

Sarah rolled her eyes at her Y/N’s obvious contempt at her other friend. “Anyway, I’m not sure, he’s invited, and I asked him but…”

“Oh yeah, I’m sure he’s far too busy and important,” Y/N said sarcastically picking her mug back up to take a sip, not before muttering a quick “dickhead” into the steaming liquid.

“That’s not fair Y/N/N, you know he works a lot, he can’t help it,” Sarah sighed.

“Look, all I’m saying, if he was that bothered about going, he’d be able to make sure he was. I’m sure he’s got some say in his schedule,” Y/N said, really struggling to keep her aversion to the man at bay now.

Sarah gulped down the remainder of her own coffee before starting, “what even is the situation between you two, anyway?”

“I don’t even know, I was nothing but nice when we first met, but he comes across as a prick and treats me like shit, I’m hardly the type of woman who’s going to roll over and take it am I?” Y/N said with a quirk in her brow

“Hmm,” Sarah considered, seemingly deep in thought as Y/N finished her drink. “He probably won’t even make it, so it’ll be fine, we’ll have fun, promise me you’ll be there?” Sarah said collecting her bag and sliding her arms through her jacket sleeves as they mutually agreed they were done with their catch-up through some unspoken telepathy.

“Twist my arm why don’t you, Jones,” Y/N laughed, gathering her own bag, “I’ll be there, of course I will, just text me the details,” she said before wrapping her arms around Sarah in a parting hug before stepping out in the warm air of August in London.

Y/N was running late as the spindly heels she was wearing clip clopped up the front step of the townhouse that ‘sketch’ London was housed in. She greeted the doorman with her signature radiant smile, indicating she was with the Jones party already seated in ‘The Gallery’. Y/N was actually, very excited for the evening, she loved a night out, she loved sketch and The Gallery had recently been redesigned by an artist she really admired and was so looking forward to seeing it. The doorman led her through to the formerly pink room, which was now a mixture of sunshine and honeyed yellows and golds. Letting her eyes dart around the room, she found Sarah sat in one of the massive booths with a pink foil birthday hat sat jauntily atop her head.

“Y/N/N” she squealed when she saw her best friend flit through the throngs of people around the dining room, there were a couple of other tables near the booth that also houses Sarah’s guests.

“Happy Birthday Miss Jones,” Y/N sang as she shuffled into the booth next to her, wrapping her in a quick hug and pressing a kiss to her cheek. “Sorry I’m late, meeting ran late, had to get ready, traffic, the usual,” she rhymed off while peeling off the leather jacket she had donned.

“Don’t be daft, haven’t even ordered yet, thanks for coming though,” Sarah said sincerely with a smile to her best friend.

“I said I’d be here,” Y/N playfully nudged Sarah by her shoulder as her eyes cast around the table, catching eyes with Charlotte at the bottom of the table and sending her and her boyfriend a wave with the twinkling of her fingers.

“Ordered you a drink though with the last round though, should be on its way in a sec,” said Sarah as she adjusted her party hat that was slipping farther and farther back her head, snapping the elastic back into place under her chin.

“You’re a star, Sarah,” Y/N responded while reaching across her best friend to greet Mitch in a quick hug and greeting.

“Y’should know though…” Sarah began, a slight note of apprehension evident in her voice.

“Ah finally decided to show up then, princess,” a mocking voice said from behind Y/N making her snap her head round and up to be met with the smuggest face she’d ever seen.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Y/N groaned glancing back over at Sarah who gave her a quick apologetic look before diving into a conversation with Mitch and one of their friends, deciding she was better staying out of it.

“Happy to see me, Y/N/N?” Harry smirked down at her, placing down the black tray of drinks he had been toting back with him on the table, people in the immediate vicinity grabbing their respective drinks off the tray, leaving two margaritas on the tray.

“Don’t call me that,” she gritted out.

“Ah, sorry, I’ll stick to princess then.” he took his time to glance down at her taking in her all-black outfit, “did you not get the memo this was a birthday party and not a funeral Y/N?” he mused.

“Oh, get fucked, why are you bothered what I’m wearing, hm?” she narrowed her eyes at him.

“I’m not, just feel you’re bringing the mood down, but you would do that anyway in any outfit, wouldn’t you?” he said, scrutinising her. “Move anyway, you’re in my seat,” Harry grumbled.

“Has it got your name on it?” Y/N asked as she looked around her seat, looking for a name tag, mocking him.

“I was sat there before y’came in,” Harry edged closer to her.

“And you weren’t sat in it when I did come in, so go cry about it to someone else, I’m sitting here,” Y/N shot back.

“Hey,” Mitch voiced up from further along the booth, “the pair of you drop it and Harry, sit down,” he was definitely using his ‘Dad’ voice on the pair. Harry had no choice to sit down in the vacant seat next to Y/N on the edge of the booth, as the group’s server arrived and began taking their orders for dinner.

“Twat,” Y/N uttered under her breath.

“Bitch,” Harry whispered to himself.

***

Dinner passed, relatively drama free. Relatively. Besides the few times that Harry’s elbow managed to catch Y/N’s just as she was about to take a bite of her food, knocking her hand away from her mouth, and the once or twice Y/N accidentally flicked Harry in the face with the ends of her hair as she whipped her head round to talk to someone. Maybe the few times Harry kept moving Y/N’s drink further away from her immediate grasp on the table when she wasn’t looking so she would look up puzzled, eyes searching for her glass and Harry could let out a slow drawl of “lost somethin’?” There was zero issue when her sharp heel impaled his foot through the black Vans he donned as she readjusted her seating position, his face forming into a grimace as he let out an irritated huff after the third time she had done so. No, it was drama free, for the most part. Y/N was actually having a good night, catching up with friends and making new ones of Sarah’s that she was meeting for the first time. Once she had managed to tune out his voice that seemed to have a point to make in every conversation she was having.

The copious number of cocktails getting delivered to the table had really loosened Y/N up over the evening, and her annoyance at Harry’s presence was barely thought about now as the meal had finished. They had both slipped into separate conversations and were no longer paying attention to each other or trying to rile each other up. Y/N wasn’t sure who was even ordering her drink of choice any longer, it just kept showing up just as she emptied the previous glass. While deep in conversation across the table with Charlotte, discussing new projects they were both working on, Y/N went to take a swig out her glass to realise it was empty for the first time all night, pouting at the empty glass and licking the remnants of the salt rim from her lips she decided it was time she got her own refill. Gesturing to Charlotte that she would return in a few minutes to continue their conversation. She dug around next to her on the velvet clad bench she was sat on for her handbag, coming across the chain strap. Sliding it onto her shoulder she turned round to the birthday girl, “D’you want another drink, gorgeous?” leaning into her ear so she would hear you over the chatter and music.

“Oh, I’ll have one of whatever you’re having, since you’re offering,” Sarah grinned at Y/N then giving her a sloppily placed kiss to the cheek.

“Okay drunky, I’ll be back in a few,” Y/N giggled, standing up where she sat, wriggling her trousers back up her waist before turning to exit the booth. Only to see, that stupid, smug smile looking up at her.

“Not going to offer to get me a drink, darling?” Harry asked, his eyes roaming up her body before settling on her face, he took a sip from his glass, finishing his own drink, baring his teeth in a hiss as he felt the burn of alcohol slide down his throat.

“Fat chance of that, move, I need out,” Y/N said watching as Harry’s arm stretched round the back of the booth, resting on the back where she was just sat.

“Aw come on, that’s not very nice,” he complained, a fake pout settling on his face.

“I never claimed to be nice, now move,” she glared down at him.

“Say please,” he smirked.

“How does fuck off sound instead?” Y/N was getting more irritated by the second, and Harry knew exactly how to push her buttons.

“No drink, no exit,” he shrugged his shoulders letting out a breathy laugh as Y/N narrowed her eyes at him.

“Fine,” she glanced down to see his hand still resting against the seat back where she stood. She dropped her bag back down onto the bench of the booth as Harry smirked, thinking he had won. She smiled softly before clutching his hand in hers, before swinging her leg over his lap, her left foot landing on the floor on the opposite side of him. She was straddling him, and Y/N could see his Adam’s apple bob in his throat as his eyes widened in shock and the smirk dropped from his lips at her risqué behaviour. She lingered for not even a second before popping her other leg over his lap, so she had exited the booth over the top of him. Letting go of his hand, she leant across him grabbing the chain strap of her bag in her hand. Her eyes flickered to his as she slowly stood back up, her teeth sinking into her lower lip before uttering a quiet, “thanks for the boost, Harry,” letting out an airy laugh as she turned on her heel and sauntered over to the bar. Y/N could almost feel Harry’s eye boring into the back of her head.

***

“Can I get two ‘Fantasmargaritas’ please?” Y/N smiled at, the very handsome, bartender.

“You’ve been here before, if you know our speciality” the bartender said as he began making the two drinks a soft smile gracing the man’s lips.

“Oh yeah, I tend to frequent the places I get my favourite margarita,” she praised sliding onto a bar stool at the end of the bar, “and the bar staff aren’t too bad either,” Y/N chuckled.

The bartender eyes snapped up at the woman’s bold comment before a genuine smile graced his face.

“Y/N, I should’ve known it was you with a comment like that,” he laughed putting the cocktail shaker down, wiping his hands down on his apron before coming round the end of the bar to pull her into a hug.

“Lennon,” Y/N sang, squeezing him as she hugged him back. “How have y’been?” she probed leaning on the bar top as Lennon stepped back round behind it to keep making her drinks.

“Between Uni and here? I’m living the dream, Y/N/N,” he laughed as he began shaking the cocktail vigorously.

“You’re doing your master’s now, right? How is it? I keep saying I’m going to go do mine, but I just don’t think I’ve got it in me,” she sighed.

“Well, I’ve only threatened to drop out about three times so, take from that what you will,” he snickered.

“Oh, so better than undergraduate then? Considering you were dropping out of that every other week,” Y/N teased him as he let out a loud laugh.

“Nah, it could be worse, who are y’here with anyway?” Lennon asked his eyes scanning the length of the bar to look for any other person his friend could be with.

“We’re the birthday group in the middle, pink foil hat? That’s us.” she smiled pointing over her shoulder with her thumb.

“Ah, the group with Mr. Styles,” Lennon said knowingly, pouring the first margarita in a glass over ice before filling up the shaker to repeat the process.

“Not you as well,” Y/N let out a huff in annoyance at Harry being dragged into another conversation.

“Hey, we were all told he was here and to be on our best behaviour, that’s all I’m saying,” he looked up as Y/N took a long drink from her freshly made drink.

“See, this is the issue, y’hear he’s here and suddenly everyone is acting different and bending over backwards,” she began to rant before calming down with another sip of the drink.

“So, I take it you’re not a fan?” Lennon snorted as he passed the other drink over to Y/N.

“He’s a twat.” Y/N said firmly.

“He seems keen on you then,” Lennon countered as he cleaned up the mess he’d made from making the drinks.

“What’s that supposed to mean,” Y/N quirked an eyebrow at him.

“Just that he’s not taken his eyes off of you the entire time we’ve been talking,” Lennon said lowly, looking past her head, clocking Harry. Y/N swivelled in her seat, to look over her shoulder, as nonchalantly as possible, to see that, indeed, Harry was staring the interaction between Y/N and Lennon down. When he caught her looking, he kept his eyes on hers and his lips ticked into that signature smirk. Y/N spun back round to see Lennon laughing at her noise of disgust and her eyeroll. “What’s even the matter between you two?” Lennon looked at her with a puzzled expression as he began mixing a few other drinks for other customers.

“He’s just never been that nice of a person to me, and I’m not going to be nice to a wanker that doesn’t deserve it,” Y/N sighed taking another sip from her drink.

“Y’ever thought you maybe weren’t that great to him either when you met?” Lennon suggested tentatively.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Y/N’s jaw fell open at his accusing.

“Look, I know you, y’can be a bit… guarded, shall we call it, and he was taking Sarah away from you-”

“I’m really happy for Sarah and the opportunities he’s given her,” Y/N shot back.

“I’m not saying you’re not, you two were attached at the hip and to go from that to hardly seeing each other, ever thought y’blamed him for that?” Lennon proposed slinging his towel over his shoulder. Y/N sat quietly for a few moments, trying to let what Lennon said sink in, he’s not wrong, in fairness. She knows she can be a tough cookie to crack on first meeting, could she have been nicer, she pondered.

“No, fuck that, and even if it’s true that doesn’t give him any excuse to act like a knob and continue being a complete and utter dickhead-”

“Y/N” Lennon cut her off suddenly and she soon found out why when she felt a presence over her shoulder and arm land on the seat back.

“Who’s a dickhead?” that slow drawl Y/N was accustomed to hearing questioned.

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” Y/N muttered her back arching away from his arm across the back of her stool. Lennon’s eyes flickered between the two before settling on Harry.

“What can I get you, mate?”

“Reposado on the rocks, top shelf,” Harry replied, his eyes still stuck on the side of Y/N’s head as Lennon walked down the bar to grab the top shelf bottle of tequila.

“So, you disappear for a few minutes, and I find you flirting with the bar staff, hm?” Harry said still with a shit-eating grin stuck to his face.

“I wasn’t flirting,” Y/N shot back.

“Sure looked like it,” Harry shrugged moving to lean on the bar top and stare her down.

“What does it matter to you if I was?” Y/N demanded, an unimpressed look settling on her features.

“It doesn’t matter to me, I was just… curious,” Harry began, his eyes quickly taking her in, she was perched on the stool, one knee crossed over the other, her tall heels peeking out the bottom of her wide legged black dress trousers which had a gold pinstripe through them. She had a black graphic tee with a print that Harry didn’t recognise tucked into the waistband, the shirt was just low cut enough his eyes could linger across her decolletage, where her gold chain sat pretty.

“Curious?” Y/N asked leaning forward in her seat towards him, seemingly drawn in.

“Wanted to see how you flirt, if you’re going for the bar staff you must be getting desperate,” Harry teased.

“Go to hell, Harry,” she spat out at him before calling over to Lennon, “how much do I owe you,” she asked trying to dig out her wallet from her bag as quickly as she could so she could get away from Harry as soon as possible.

“Oh uh- let me check,” Lennon said, sensing the tension between the two patrons of the bar, turning round to check the price on the register.

“I’ll get it,” Harry voiced his hand pulling out his own wallet.

“I can pay for my own drinks, Harry,” Y/N fired back.

“I didn’t say you couldn’t, I’m just saying I’ll get these, I’ve got the rest of them all night,” Harry muttered, the last bit under his breath.

“What?” Y/N asked, realising that someone had to be paying for the cocktails that kept appearing for her at the table during dinner, she just didn’t expect it to be Harry.

“Nothing,” Harry murmured, pulling a few notes out his wallet.

“Uh, I’m going to take this to Sarah, Lennon it was nice seeing you,” Y/N finished her own margarita before lifting the full glass to take back to the table.

“Yeah, you too Y/N, I’ll call you, yeah, we’ll have a proper chat,” he smiled at her.

“Mhm, yeah, please do call. I think I need to go get some air,” Y/N slid off the stool and turned walking back to the table to take Sarah her drink. Her head swimming, thinking about the absolute mindfuck that is Harry Styles.

She walked back to the table, leaning into the booth to catch Sarah’s attention.

“Oh hi, Y/N/N, thought you got lost,” Sarah smiled up, her eyes heavy as she was a bit more intoxicated that when Y/N had last seen her.

“Nah, not lost, ran into a friend and then, um,” she paused not knowing what to say, “here’s your drink Jonesy,” she said changing the subject, placing the glass down in front of her.

“Ahh, thank you, my gorgeous, favourite, best friend,” Sarah bubbled, taking Y/N’s hand, and placing a kiss to it.

“You’re welcome, silly, listen I’m just going to step out for a bit of air,” Y/N smiled at Sarah who pouted in return. She had good reason to pout too, Y/N had this habit of ‘stepping out for air’ and failing to return, she’d just decide she was over it and go home without saying anything. “Promise I’ll be back, look, I’m even leaving my jacket, y’know I love that jacket,” Y/N pointed down at the crumpled jacket sat on the bench next to Sarah. Y/N straightened Sarah’s party hat on top of her head after it had slipped down the back again before turning round and making her way to the exit. She had to walk past the bar on her way out the room and tried to keep her eyes on the floor, but she just couldn’t help it. They flashed up to connect with Harry’s own green ones as she left. He seemed to be in a conversation with Adam and Lennon behind the bar, although Harry was seemingly not that interested because as soon as Y/N’s eyes were on him he clocked her. Y/N heard him utter a “keep the change mate,” as he left a few notes on the bar top as she exited the gallery and went out onto the street. The street was surprisingly quiet considering the time of night, which Y/N was grateful for as she leant against the wrought-iron railing of sketch and looked towards the sky inhaling deep breaths of the cool summer air.

She was confused to say the least. He didn’t get to do that to her, he didn’t get to act like he hated her then pay for her all evening without telling, what even was that? She tipped her head back further trying to find stars but was left bitterly disappointed, as always, when the London smog and light pollution kept them from her.

“Penny for your thoughts?” he stood next to her now, as she kept her eyes trained on the sky, refusing to look at him.

“I have a lot of thoughts, don’t think you would want to hear half of them,” Y/N laughed dryly.

“Try me,” Harry persisted.

“Hm,” Y/N let silence fall between them, pulling her gaze from the sky to the reflection in the windows of the building across the street. She saw herself, arms folded across her chest, one ankle crossed over the other, and the taller figure next to her, leant against the railing with his head tilted so he could see her in his eyeline, but she couldn’t bring herself to look at him just yet.

“You don’t like me,” Harry mumbled.

“Where did you get that idea?” Y/N asked sarcastically, still watching their reflection, “you don’t like me either,” she finished. Harry didn’t respond to that, just let the silence hang between them.

“Why did you even come out here?” Y/N demanded, her voice raising now, annoyed at Harry’s silence, “if you’re not going to say anything.”

“I just wanted to see if you wer-” Harry began before his voice died in his throat.

“What? See if I was okay, that’s rich, I can look after myself,” she shot him down, beginning to seethe at him lingering over her.

“Y’know what Y/N, you don’t get to act like you’re the only pissed off one here,” Harry’s own voice raising a few decibels.

“What the hell have you got to be pissed about? Y’bought me a few drinks, that I didn’t know about, and I didn’t fall to your feet, if it’s that big a deal Harry I’ll send you the money for them, god forbid I owe you anything,” Y/N scoffed at him, finally turning her body round to look at him, she was sure her eyes were blazing by now as she took him in, his jaw set.

“See, this is what I mean, it’s not a big deal, I don’t want y’to pay for them and I certainly never asked you to fall to my feet. You make out I expect everyone to worship me, and never once, have I said that. Not once, Y/N.” Harry rebuffed, running a hand through his hair.

“Everyone changes when you’re around Harry, whether you notice it or not, everyone changes their behaviour because you’re there, y’just don’t like it because I don’t, I treat you exactly how you treat me,” Y/N said, her voice calming ever so slightly, the calm before the storm some would say.

“Oh yeah, and how is it I treat you Y/N?” Harry fumed.

“Like shit,” Y/N said lowly getting closer to Harry’s face to make sure he heard her, before stepping back again, her head turning back round to see the reflection. “You treat me like shit, Harry.”

“How? When have I ever treated you badly?” Harry asked, seemingly genuinely interested.

“You called me desperate not even twenty minutes ago, I wouldn’t exactly call that friendly banter,” she hissed out at him. “That’s not the first time either.”

“I don’t mean that shit, Y/N,” Harry cringed at the memory, he had said she was desperate and probably more than once.

“Well, that’s sort of hard to believe when you keep saying it. You’re a grade A arsehole Harry, we don’t like each other, let’s call it a day at that.” Y/N was ready to be done with the conversation, argument, row, whatever the pair were having get in a taxi and go, she could always pick up her jacket from the restaurant in the morning.

“Nah, you don’t get to walk off and say that I’m the only arsehole in this situation,” Harry began taking another step towards her as they stared each other down. “You’ve never liked me, when we first met, I tried so fucking hard with you, Y/N, but you wouldn’t let me, I invited you to shows, I asked about what you did, I did everything I was supposed to. You’re the one who decided not to open up, you’re the one that shut me down before even giving me a fucking chance.” Harry’s voice was getting louder again.

“Keep your voice down,” Y/N hissed at him.

“No, I won’t, not until you tell me why, why you decided from the get-go that I wasn’t good enough for Miss Y/L/N, hmm?” Harry’s eyes narrowed at her.

“You’re a twat,” Y/N muttered.

“Yeah, you’ve said, now why?” Harry pushed.

“Because…” Y/N’s voice shrank, barely audible as a car engine cut above it as it drove down the street.

“Because what, Y/N? Come on y’know I haven’t got all night, seeing as you seem so concerned about my busy schedule, eh?” Harry’s words, dripping in sarcasm and Y/N was, honestly, quite over the condescending tone, so she lost it.

“Because I’m fucking jealous, alright!” Y/N almost shouted, a baffled look crossing Harry’s face but before he could interject, she kept going. “I’m jealous of your relationship with Sarah, feel like y’took her from me, and now she’s got you, and Mitch, and all these incredible opportunities, and I’m so fucking happy for her because she deserves it more than anybody I know, deserves it more than you,” she said giving him a pointed look, “but I’m jealous, because she doesn’t need me anymore okay, you took her from me and now she doesn’t need me. That’s why I can’t stand you.”

“You’re mental, y’know that?” Harry questioned.

“Oh, fuck off, Harry,” Y/N began to walk away.

“No, you’re not walking away, Y/N,” Harry grabbed her forearm pulling her back to him. “Of course, Sarah needs you, you’re her best friend, she was going to cancel this whole thing tonight if you told her y’werent coming, she’s been thinking for weeks you would tell her no, she done all of this just so you could spend time together.” Harry said sincerely. “As for the jealousy thing, that’s just fucking ridiculous, I’ve been jealous of you the entire time,” he scoffed.

“Jealous of me?” Y/N almost screeched, “now I know you’ve lost it,” rolling her eyes at him.

“Of course, I’m bloody jealous, everyone automatically likes you for you, no one puts on a front as you put it, just to be mates with you, why d’you think I tried so hard to be your friend,” Harry barked, they were still almost shouting at each other in the street at this point, surely still too worked up to realise their voices were so loud.

“I don’t think calling me desperate is a way to be my friend,” Y/N refuted as they got in each other’s faces.

“Well, I don’t think calling me a prick and arrogant to every person y’meet is a way to be mine, god you’re fucking aggravating” he spat, keeping his darkened eyes on hers.

“Who said I wanted to be your friend, anyway” Y/N bellowed, arms crossing, defences going back up after she came clean about why she had a disdain towards him.

“What did you want to be then?” his signature smirk played at the corner of his lips.

“You make it easy to want to slap that stupid smirk off your face,” Y/N chastised, stepping back, leaning against the railing again as Harry stepped to stand in front of her, her arm came up to stop his approach, hand landing on his solid chest.

Harry’s eyes glanced down to see her hand against his chest, “Y/N,” he said his voice dropping down lowly as his own hand came up to clutch at the wrist of her hand that was pressing into him. Her eyes stayed on his.

“I’m going to kiss you,” his voice warned, stepping closer as he pulled her hand away from his chest, keeping a grip on her wrist.

“You’re not serious?” Y/N mumbled, her tongue darting out to wet her lips on instinct.

“As a heart attack,” his lips were on hers, in a lingering kiss before he pulled back, his eyes searching hers before a breathy laugh came from his nose seeing her jaw dropped open in surprise.

“So bloody aggravating…” he almost groaned, ready to turn around and walk away from the infuriating girl but before he got the chance to step backwards, Y/N had ripped her arm from his grip and threw it around his neck, pulling him into her body and into another searing kiss. Their lips moved feverishly against each other as Harry stood closer to her, crowding over her, his hands coming to rest on either side of her body gripping the railing. She left one hand at the nape of his neck and the other gripped his bicep through the blue checked jacket he was wearing. Harry’s tongue slipped through his lips and traced her bottom lip, at Y/N’s gasp, he took it as his go ahead as he licked into her mouth, his tongue caressing hers as their lips still worked each other. Y/N’s hands carded up into the back of Harry’s hair as she gave a light tug to his roots. Breaking the kiss, as Y/N’s bag slipped down off her shoulder down the arm that was clutching onto Harry’s bicep, to rest in the bend of her elbow. Harry’s own hand came up to hold her jaw, his fingers resting under her earlobe, his thumb caressing her cheek as he placed kissed down the opposite side of cheek and jaw, before trailing down her neck, sucking lightly at the skin as he went.

“H-Harry, more, need more,” Y’N uttered her hips ticking forward to press her entire body against his. He came up for air before pressing another kiss to her lips.

“Demanding little thing, aren’t you?” He smirked against her lips, his knee splitting her legs open so his thigh could rest in between hers.

“You really are a prick,” Y/N groaned pulling at his hair again.

“You still live in Camden?” He whispered pressing another kiss under her earlobe. Y/N nodded her head as best she could given her predicament. “C’mon Y/N/N, let’s go,” he went to stick his hand out to hail a taxi that was making its way down the street.

“I said don’t call me that, you don’t get nickname privilege just for a kiss” she gritted out before grabbing his hand to stop him hailing the car. “I need to go get my jacket and say bye to Sarah,” she said trying to untangle herself from him.

“Just text Sarah,” he moaned trying to intertwine their fingers, “I’ll get you a new bloody jacket, let’s just go, wanna find out what does get me nickname privileges.”

“Don’t be a twat, this is why people like me, cause I’m nice and say goodbye, try it sometime, you could learn something,” Y/N said knocking him away from the sucking mark he was trying to leave on her neck, “and I’m getting my own jacket, y’can’t jus’ throw money at it, that’s what makes you seem like a knob,” Y/N snorted walking back to the entrance of ‘sketch’ before calling to him over her shoulder, “call a car, I won’t be long.” She strut back in, swinging her hips just a little more to rile him up.

“You’re a bitch,” he called after her.

“I know, you’ve said” Y/N winked at him as she walked back into sketch.

***

“Y/N/N!!!” Sarah was wobbling on her feet by the time that Y/N reached her back at the table as she was doing some sort of two step to the music playing. “Hiya gorgeous, listen, I’m feeling a little worse for wear after being outside,” she absolutely was not, if anything, her time outside with Harry had sobered her up massively. “I think I’m going to grab my things and head home, okay?” Y/N said her hands holding onto Sarah’s to keep her best friend steady.

“Are you sure you can’t stay?” Sarah’s pout started to form

“Nah, honestly, I’ve got a meeting tomorrow too,” she didn’t, “need to try and sober up for that so I can get through that without the need to be sick,” Y/N giggled to try and convince Sarah of her little white lie.

“D’you need me to call you a ride, or I’ll get Mitch to do it,” Sarah clutched onto Y/N’s arm to hold herself steady.

“What am I doing?” Mitch piped up from behind Sarah taking a grip of his girlfriend so Y/N could let her go to slide her jacket on.

“Nothing, s’fine, I’ve already ordered a car it’s on its way, promise I’m fine,” Y/N smiled at them both.

“As long as you’re sure,” Sarah said with a blissed-out smile, her hand coming up to clumsily rumple Y/N’s hair.

“Perfectly sure,” Y/N laughed at Sarah clutching her hand that she picked off the top of her head, “I’ll call you tomorrow, yeah?” she said sliding her bag back up on her shoulder.

“Thank you so so much for coming, Y/N/N, wouldn’t have even done this if you couldn’t make it,” Sarah threw herself into Y/N’s arms in a tight embrace as Y/N suddenly felt overcome with love for her best friend.

“Ah, you’re turning me to mush. I love you Jones, so much,” Y/N said wistfully, giving the brunette a squeeze before untangling herself to make her leave. Just as she was about to walk back past the bar to exit, she heard a call from behind her.

“Y/N! You haven’t seen Harry, have you? I’ve not seen him since he was at the bar with you, and that was a while ago,” Mitch called across the room as Sarah looked up at her partner with a puzzled look in her eye.

“Uh-uh n-no I’ve not seen him, sorry Mitchy, I’ll uh- see you guys soon,” Y/N stammered out as Mitch quirked an eyebrow at her, seemingly sceptical of her answer. Giving herself a shake, she gave the group a quick wave before making a dash to leave again.

She finally made it out onto the street, not after bumping into Lennon in the doorway who was having a smoke, Y/N tried to rush through the customary ‘it was so nice seeing you’ and the ‘we’ll catch up soon,’ before Lennon was placing a quick kiss to the cheek as she dashed out.

She looked at the railing where she had left Harry to find it void of any other people, looking up the street to see it deserted too. Surely, he hadn’t left. She spun on her heel to face the opposite end of the street to see the maddening man with his tousled hair leaning against an idling car a few paces down, with the rear passenger seat propped open.

“Didn’t think I’d leave, did you?” Harry questioned as Y/N set off towards him.

“Wouldn’t put it past you,” Y/N stopped in front of him speaking bluntly.

“Well, that’s a nice surprise for you that I stayed then, eh? Your chariot awaits,” he winked holding out his hand in offering to help her into the car. She glanced down at his manicured hand before ignoring it completely, tossing her bag into the backseat and following in after it – without his assistance.

“My chariot,” Y/N snorted turning to see him sliding in the car next to her. “a private hire town car, y’sure know how to treat ‘em, Styles.”

“Hey if I don’t get nickname privileges neither do you,” he muttered slamming the door shut.

“Styles is hardly a nickname when it’s your actual name,” Y/N retorted as the driver took off on the quarter of an hour journey.

“Shut up and c’mere, yeah?” Harry hushed her grabbing her hand that laid on the bench between them. Y/N leaned over her lips ghosting over his, but never quite meeting, no matter how much Harry tilted his head trying to slot them together.

“Can’t even wait 15 minutes to kiss me, think you’re the desperate one, Harry,” she whispered her breath fanning across his face before she pulled away and sitting back in her seat, a glimmer of mischief in her eye as Harry kept his hand in hers.

“You’re a-“

“I’m a bitch, should think of some new names to call me, Harry, that one’s getting old,” her eyes were sparkling now as she continued to push at his buttons.

“You’re the devil,” he kept his eyes on her as she bit her lip seductively, whether she meant it that way or not, it was certainly seducing Harry.

“Well, you know what they say, treat them mean, keep them keen,” she laughed airily.

“Oh, I’m definitely keen,” Harry’s voice was thick with lust as he took their hands that were intertwined, lifting their tangled fingers to his knee, before dragging them up his thigh and resting her hand over the growing hardness in his trousers, leaving his own hand over the top of hers. Y/N’s breath caught in her throat as her eyes cast down to where her hand lay resting, back up to his own gaze. If she could see herself, she knew her eyes would be dark with want, the sparkle of mischief being taken over completely by her desire for him. “Cat got your tongue, Y/N?” Harry breathed, leaning over his nose running the length of her jaw from her ear lobe up to the corner of her mouth where he placed another kiss. Harry was chuckling wickedly at Y/N’s seemingly shocked reaction to his boldness. Her eyes flickered from where their hands remained unmoving, and her teeth sank into her bottom lip before her eyes came up to focus on Harry’s bright green eyes. She ticked forward, leaning in closer to him before uttering lowly, “no, but it’s certainly got yours.” With that, the hand that was resting on Harry’s ever pressing erection, twitched, as she took a hold of him through the fabric of his trousers and squeezed lightly, cutting off Harry’s mocking laughter, his breath catching in his throat as he fought to keep his hips from jerking up into Y/N’s grip.

Breathing heavily through his nose, he kept his gaze on hers, “how long left mate?” he called over to the driver, his voice raspy with need and before he even heard their driver’s response, he surged forward to connect their lips again, his free hand coming up to tangle in her hair on the back of her head.

***

She took his hand this time. As the car stopped outside Y/N’s flat and Harry slid out the backseat he held his hand out and this time she actually took it to hoist herself out the car, while adjusting the low-cut t-shirt - that was showing just a bit more than she was comfortable with for a public street – that had become displaced with the pairs heavy petting in the backseat.

“Don’t do that on my account, I’ll get to see a lot more in a few minutes,” Harry grinned his eyes dipping down to try and catch an eyeful.

“You’ll see fuck all, if you keep talking to me like that,” Y/N started taking her hand back before slapping him in the chest and taking her bag out of his other hand that he had grabbed on his way out the car, stalking towards the front door. Harry’s hurried footsteps chased Y/N up to the front door and he gripped her hips from behind, pressing himself into her.

“Don’t be like that,” he almost whimpered out. She paid him no mind as she rifled through her bag looking for the bundle of keys, not even as he took his hand and pulled her hair away from her neck and began pressing long, sucking kisses to her neck, occasionally grazing her skin with his teeth which made Y/N shudder. She managed to open the building door and spun around gripping his hand to lead him in. “Hope you can keep your hands to yourself long enough to get upstairs,” she said keeping their hands intertwined as she led him to the stairs.

“Which floor?” Harry asked lowly pulling her into his chest before she started up the steps to stop her.

“Third,” Y/N breathed.

“Better give me somethin’ to tide me over then, babe,” he disconnected their hands wrapping his own round the small of her back, pressing her into him as he sealed their lips together. His tongue split through his lips and traced her own bottom one begging for entrance which she gladly gave him, their tongues meshing. Harry stood over the top of her as he kept her in place against his body, Y/N needed to get some power back in the dynamic they were in, so pushed up on her toes, her teeth lightly nipped into Harry’s bottom lip, pulling it back and letting it pop back into place as she unlocked his hands from her back and began up the stairs at high speed to gain some ground on him. The sound of her heels hitting the steps, echoing in the quiet building.

She made it to her front door before he caught up with her, turning the key in the lock quickly entering the flat and spinning on her heel to face out her front door. Harry approached with looking wild-eyed as he took her in, holding the door so he couldn’t enter. He placed one hand on the door frame and leant in to try and capture her lips in his again, but she turned her head, so he caught her cheek.

“What is it now?” he grumbled, brows furrowing.

“Say sorry,” that glint of mischief was back in Y/N’s eye.

“Huh?”

“Say sorry, or y’can forget about whatever we were going to do,” her tone was playful, Y/N knew herself, even if he told her to do one with her request for an apology, she would probably let him and let him do whatever he pleased with her, she was too far gone for him now. Though she wanted to see how far she could push him.

“Y/N, babe…” he started, give him his due, he did look sincere, although that could be the insane pressure, he was feeling, building in his underwear that was forcing him to give in and give her anything she wanted. “I am sorry, truly.”

“Hmm, for what?” she tilted her head at him, questioning, although Harry swore, she opened the door slightly further.

“For calling you desperate…”

“And?”

“And for being rude and generally, jus’ being a prick to you,” he said, a small smile gracing his lips.

“Hmm,” Y/N pondered over his words.

“What else d’you want me to say Y/N, fuck’s sake, you really are the most infuriating woman I’ve ever met,” and at that Y/N pulled him into the flat by his shirt, shutting the door and locking it behind him before planting her lips back on his.

“You’re insufferable Harry and the biggest arseho-” Y/N began but she cut herself off with her own moan as Harry pushed her back into the wall of the flat’s entryway, his mouth beginning to suck and leave bruising marks across her neck.

“Yeah? Tell me how you really feel baby, tell me y’hate me, come on,” Harry grunted as he shucked her leather jacket from her shoulders letting it land on the laminate flooring, pressing his hips forward so she could feel his cock against her thigh.

“I do, I do hate you,” Y/N panted her hand coming up to weave her fingers through his thick hair keeping his lips to her neck.

“The feelings mutual, princess,” he growled into her throat before coming up to nip at her earlobe. Harry split her legs open with his knee and brought his thigh to the apex of her own, much like he had done outside sketch but this time he didn’t have to hold back. He brought his hands to the plush of Y/N’s hips and encouraged her to rock herself back on his thigh, he could feel her heat radiating, even through their layers of clothing. A high whine escaped Y/N’s throat as she tipped her head back against the wall and her eyes screwing shut as she continued to grind herself down on him, Harry pulled away from her neck, watching her writhe in a fit of pleasure. “Look at you,” he moaned, he was getting off just watching her, “you can’t get enough, y’like a bitch in heat,” his tone was mocking but he has never been so turned on. Y/N pushed at his chest at his comment, before pulling off his own jacket and letting it fall to the floor with hers.

“Bedroom,” she spoke pulling herself from his thigh making her way down the hall to the closed door at the end.

“That was expensive, Y/N,” Harry chastised, looking down at his crumpled heap of a jacket.

“Oh, go fucking cry about it,” Y/N rolled her eyes and when Harry started along the hall to her, she quickly tugged her t-shirt from the waistband of her trousers and pulled it up and over her head, leaving her in her heels, trousers and revealing her black bra to him where he could see her pert nipples pressing against the sheer fabric.

Entering her bedroom, Harry toed off the vans he was wearing at the door and pushed her back into her bed, hovering over her, hands on either side of her head. Y/N’s own hands gravitated to the waistband of his trousers, popping the button of the brown fabric, before grabbing at the fabric of the white Christopher Kane ‘Sex’ t-shirt he was wearing before pulling it up and over his head.

“Interesting choice of shirt,” she heaved out as Harry was licking and sucking his way to her breast, teasing her nipple through the mesh fabric.

“Call it a manifestation or somethin’” he replied, teeth grazing at one nipple while his hand cupped her other breast. Y/N could feel his length against her own pelvis and couldn’t help but buck her hips up looking for a bit of friction, the movement caused a groan to emit from low in Harry’s throat his eyes flickering up to watch her with his mouth still wrapped round her nipple through her bra. She couldn’t help it, she needed him closer, wrapping her legs around his waist pulling him tight against her, the heels of her shoes accidentally pressing into his ass.

“Eh ow?” Harry complained, pulling away from her breasts.

“Get a shift on and take them off then we won’t have a problem, will we?” Y/N retorted pulling her legs up to her chest, so he had access to remove her shoes.

“Won’t have a problem,” he grumbled under his breath, mocking what she said as he caught her by the ankle, her trouser leg rolling up to her knee as he placed a kiss where the shoe ended on her ankle. His nimble fingers quickly unlaced them before he gripped the spindly heel and tugged. Only for the shoe not to budge. He tried again to no avail. His brow furrowed he looked up to Y/N to see her lips pressed together trying not to laugh.

“There’s a zip on the back,” she snickered.

“How long were you going to keep that a secret, huh?” Harry complained finally tossing both shoes over his shoulder.

“Just wanted to see you struggle,” she giggled, reaching behind her back to remove her own bra pulling it from her arms, Harry’s eyes widening at her boldness.

“Is that how it is?” he gripped the waistband of her trousers and pulled her up into a seated position with her legs on either side of his, voice taunting her.

“Fuck you,” she spat at him.

“No, no Y/N, that’s what I’m trying to do to you,” he said softly, popping the fastening of her trousers and dragging the zipper down. She lifted her hips to aid him peeling them from her legs before he laid her back down on the swathes of blankets and her duvet. He began placing kisses down her body, stopping to dip his tongue into her clavicle, swirling it around each of her breasts and sucking each nipple into his mouth for just a second as Y/N’s back arched further into his mouth. Meanwhile, his hand was playing with the elastic of her underwear, lifting it, and letting it snap back in sharp bites against her skin. Her hips wiggled at each nip against them. Before he trailed too far down her body with his mouth, she stopped him.

“Wait, wait, stop,” she panted, and Harry’s gaze shot to hers, his head coming back up to level with hers immediately, eyes flickering all over her face checking he wasn’t pushing too far or doing something she didn’t want. “No, it’s fine, you’re fine, perfect in fact. Jus’ want these off first,” she reassured him before pushing at his trousers with shaking hands.

“Christ, Y/N, you scared me for a second, that I can do,” he went to help her draw his fly down before he paused, and that teasing lilt came back to his voice, “say please, baby.”

Y/N’s eyes blinked repeatedly, trying to take in what he said, she wanted him that was for sure. “Pl-please, Harry, please,” she almost whined, her hands gripping around his neck pulling him close, nuzzling into his neck. That’s the thing about Y/N she took no shit in her day-to-day life, but get her worked up enough in the bedroom, she would become almost docile. Almost.

“Yeah, I can do that. I’ve got you, promise, I’ve got you,” Harry groaned as he helped her push his trousers down past his hips and he kicked his legs free, a contented hum left her throat at the feeling of his bare legs against her own, finally. She could feel his hardened erection even more now as he ground himself into her, only separated by the thin fabric of each of their underwear. It was a series of pants and moans from there on out, from the pair of them.

Harry worked his way back down her body, gripping her underwear in his hands, he glanced back up at her, “can I?” and with a quick nod of her head he was sliding them down her legs, leaving his head resting on her thigh as he drank in the site of her, exposed to him. Her scent thick, folds glistening as a sign he had her worked up, she was pulling him in and before Harry could stop himself, his tongue was painting a wide strip up the length of her. Y/N’s hands flew to his hair, gripping it in fistfuls as his tongue went to work, dipping into where she wept for him before running back up and circling her sensitive clit, she wriggled and squirmed in response, hips bucking every time his tongue lingered directly on her clit.

“So fucking wet, aren’t you?” Harry groaned into her, his hips ticking into the mattress to relieve some of the tension that was building in his own crotch. “Keep still, Y/N,” he warned as she jerked up to his mouth again, and God love her, she did try to keep still, but she did say she was almost submissive in bed, Y/N still wanted to try and put up at least a little bit of a fight. She couldn’t help but try and grind her pussy against his mouth and with a quick nip to her hip he pulled away from her, his chin glistening in her arousal.

“I said, keep still,” his voice was low as he watched her with darkened eyes, as she tried to catch her breath from teetering on the edge that he pulled her back from.

“Or what?” Y/N challenged him, some of that control she liked coming back to her.

“I’ll stop,” he said, although he didn’t sound that convinced.

“I’d like to see you try, come on Harry, you know you’re just as desperate as you say I am.” She was straight up mocking him now, “maybe I’ll go back to the bar, or I’ll call Lennon, I’m sure he would sort me out, if I asked.”

With that, Harry was growling and diving back down to her mound, biting at the creases of her thighs in the process. “Not a fucking chance, this cunt is mine tonight,” he grumbled against her, licking and sucking with more determination and Y/N was approaching the edge quicker than ever. “Would that bartender make you feel like this, would he make you this wet, Y/N?”

“No- no Harry, you, jus’ you,” Y/N moaned loudly, her fingers carding through his hair, needing it to keep her tethered to reality. “Harry, I’m so- can I, can I co-come?” she was stuttering over her words as her legs began to shake over his shoulders.

He pulled his face from her, but let his fingers keep working at her to keep her close to her orgasm, his eyes gleamed wickedly in the soft glow of the bedroom lamps. “Oh no, you can’t come, baby, but thank you for asking.”

“Harry,” she whined out, her hands now going into her own hair, pulling at her roots to stop her from exploding.

“Hold it, Y/N, not until I say, y’won’t have to wait long, promise,” he was watching as his middle and ring finger worked in and out of her, the cool metal of his rings making her hiss when it collided with her hot flesh. He dipped his head back down, his tongue focusing on her clit, rolling it with the wet muscle, grazing with his teeth and he would garner the highest moans from her with quick flicks from his tongue. He kept his eyes on her face, seeing her teeth sinking into her lip every so often, her hands still pulling at her own hair.

“Hands on me,” he moaned against her, and her hands came down, her nails scratching into his scalp, Harry thrived on the slight bite of pain and was moaning lowly as he continued to rut his hips against the soft bedding, needing the friction against his painfully hard cock.

“Look at me,” he grunted as Y/N blinked down at him, her eyes almost looked panicked as she was hanging on the edge, right where Harry wanted her, on a knife edge.

“Come,” he demanded, “now, Y/N, let go babe.” That’s all she needed to hear as her orgasm bubbled over, shattering through her body as it quivered in release and a squeal leaving her lips as Harry worked her through it. “That’s it, fuck, good girl, I’ve got you. Can feel y’squeezing,” he groaned his fingers still curling inside trying to prolong her earth-shattering orgasm as long as he could until her own fingers wrapped round his wrist to stop his movements as she became overstimulated. He pulled his fingers from her before sucking them into his own mouth, moaning at her taste as he lapped them up as Y/N watched through her thick lashes as she caught her breath. He bent down, taking her into a searing kiss, his tongue licking into her mouth so she could get a taste of herself. She gripped his shoulders, Harry thought just because she was into the kiss, but was mistaken when she pulled him harshly and flipped them over, so his back hit her mattress with a puff of his breath leaving his throat at the collision.

“What’re yo-” he started trying to sit up, but Y/N kept his shoulders pressed down on the bed.

“Shh, it’s my turn,” and she went to work, suckling on his earlobe before trailing down his neck, letting her nails scratch lightly against his torso, leaving trails of goosebumps in their path.

“Y/N,” he whimpered, she could feel the muscles of his abdomen rippling under her touch as her hand kept trailing down, he was still in his black briefs, and she could see the dampened spot that held the head of his cock pressed against them. She wanted them off, wanted to see him in all his glory, although she’d never let him hear that.

“What is it, Harry?” her tongue licked over his nipple before her teeth sank lightly into his pec. “Can’t keep still baby? Just remember, unlike you, I can stop, I could walk away and leave you right now, sweating, and needy,” she teased him, kisses dipping lower as her fingers began to skate under the thick band of his briefs. In a moment of boldness, her hand slipped completely into his underwear, and she gripped him, squeezing lightly and Harry let out a low, slow rumble at the sensation of finally having her hand on him. Y/N knew he was big from all their heavy petting and grinding, but now she had a grip of him she just had to see for herself. Scooting down her bed on her knees letting her free hand grip his underwear to pull them off, Harry raised his hips to help her long as she peeled them down his legs. His rock-hard length coming up to slap against his stomach, leaving a speckle of precum in its place. Harry watched her, his ego inflating as her eyes took in his impressive size.

“Look at you, you get off on thinking you have control,” his own hand came down to wrap around his dick, pumping slowly as she watched, thighs squeezing together, “but I know you, Y/N, you want to get your hands on me, to touch, to suck, to taste, to please me,” he taunted, thumbing over his head and slit pulling the oozing precum down to glide his hand easier. Y/N couldn’t take it anymore, and she swatted his hand off himself and wrapped her own back around, leaning over him. Harry’s breath caught as he watched her. She looked up at him, through her lashes as she opened her mouth letting a glob of spit fall and land on the crown of him as her hand began to stroke faster, her wrist twisting every time she got to the head and squeezing at his base. Harry could feel his muscles constricting in his abdomen and had to focus on not bursting as she began to kitten-lick his cock, tonguing up the ooze that was coming from his slit as she moaned at the taste.

“C’mon Y/N, be a good girl and put me in,” he tormented her, although the jeering tone dissipated relatively quickly when she nipped his thigh with her nails, and he hissed at the sharp pain.

“Get fucked, I’ll do what I want,” she complained as she squeezed his base and ran her tongue along the protruding vein on the underside of his shaft. She put him in her mouth, anyway, hollowing her cheeks and sucking his head intensely. He crumbled under the warm feeling of her mouth wrapping around him and began whimpering profusely and she began bobbing her head.

“Please, Y/N, take more, know y’can, please,” and if Harry thought she got off on the control he’d be glad to know she got off on his begging even more. She moaned and the vibrations shot through Harry, and he just couldn’t stop himself from his hips jerking as she choked around him, before having to pull off, saliva running down her chin and his cock. “Fuck m’sorry doll,” his hands scraping her hair back off her face.

“No s’fine, I can, I can do it, I like it,” she mumbled out before taking him back in her mouth working back down him slowly as not to accidentally gag herself. She got him to the back of her throat easier this time without Harry bucking up, as he kept her hair in his hands so he could watch. As she swallowed around him, a string of curses left his lips as he babbled praises at her. Y/N was thriving and trailed her free hand up his thighs to gently cup his balls. Harry was close, and with one roll and squeeze of her hand on his balls he was pulling her off him by her hair.

“Need you to stop or I’ll explode an’ I need to be inside you before I come, I need to,” he heaved out, trying to control himself.

She giggled at him as she lay down beside him, wiping her spit covered mouth on the back of her hand, “have at it then, Styles.” Grinning, Harry raised back up to his knees, leaning over her and kissing her deeply.

“D’you have a condom? I have, but it’s in my jacket on your bloody hall floor,” he said against her cheek as he peppered kisses there as she carded her fingers through his soft hair.

“Mm, top drawer, y’really need to get over the coat on the floor thing, cry-baby,” she joked as he rifled into the closest bedside table drawer, Y/N not really paying attention as she placed her own kisses on the patches of his warm skin closest to her.

“Don’t think this is a condom,” he held up a scanty piece of lace, Y/N realised was her underwear, looking to see Harry had been going through the wrong bedside cabinet.

“Wrong cabinet, arsehole,” she made a grab for her underwear and Harry pulled them from her grasp, looking joyfully down at the red lace between his fingertips.

“Can I keep these? Souvenir or reward or somethin’” he asked.

“Harry,” she warned as her hips ticked up, nudging his cock to try and get him back on track.

“Right, yeah, sorry,” this time leaning across the bed into the top drawer of the opposite bedside table, returning with a square foil package, leaving the bundled underwear behind. Feeling around the foil packet, he squeezed the condom down to the bottom before instructing Y/N to bite down on the material as he tore the package open by her teeth. Rolling it down his length, he sat with his tip at her entrance as she wriggled her hips down trying to get him to slip inside.

“Come on, Harry. Fuck me like you hate me,” she said as a parting shot as he gripped her hips and pushed in, Y/N’s back-arching at the stretch as Harry groaned in pleasure at her warm wet walls engulfing him. Once he was completely sheathed inside her, he paused, waiting for her to give him the go ahead. Her hand came up to cup his cheek, nails scratching at the skin before nodding, eyes rolling back slightly at the pressure she was feeling.

“Move, move, y’can move, please,” she choked out as Harry pulled out to slam back into her soft grunts leaving his throat. As their hips knocked together at a pace that Y/N was sure was going to bruise her, the room was filled with the scent of sex and sweat and their combined moans.

“Come on, Y/N, tell me you hate me,” he grunted out, hand trailing across her torso, tweaking at her nipple causing her to gasp and keen under his touch.

“I hate y-you,” she stammered out with her short breaths as her nails dug into his back at a particularly hard thrust.

“Yeah? Why, tell me why,” he moaned clutching behind her knee pushing it back into the bed so he could reach deeper inside her, a particularly loud moan escaped from the woman under him as he hit her g-spot repeatedly with his deeper thrusts, “there it is, there’s your spot,” he grunted, being purposeful with every thrust to hit it.

“I hate you for being rude,” she rushed out clutching onto his bicep of the arm that was keeping her knee pushed back, her toes flexing by his head. “I hate y’for calling me desperate,” she breathed out before folding for him and revealing how she really felt about that particular insult of his, “even though I am desperate, but just for you, desperate for you, Harry,” she choked out catching his eyes, her mouth falling open, there wasn’t even noise coming from her any longer, he was pounding into her so hard it she was focused on just getting oxygen in and out her lungs.

“Yeah?” he asked as she nodded pathetically, Harry’s thrusts slowing but still hitting deep and hard. “I know, y’desperate for me, can feel your needy cunt weeping for me,” his thumb came down to press into her clit, slipping around on the wetness that was pooling there. “I hate y’too, Y/N,” he grunted out, “I hate the way you wind me up, every. fucking. chance. you get,” he punctuated each word with a sharp thrust as Y/N’s hips ground down to meet his thrusts. “I hate the way that it’s the thought of you that’s got me off, ever since I bloody met you,” he was rubbing tight circles into her clit now trying to get her to a point where they could careen off the edge together. “I hate the way, we should’ve fucked months ago and avoided all the fucking arguments and rows,” he panted out.

“Fuck, Harry, m’so close, I can feel you everywhere,” Y/N’s moans were uncontrollable now as she took his hand off her knee and pressed it to her lower stomach to stimulate her that way too as she hooked her thighs over his hips.

“I know, baby, I know, come on, fucking come for me, drench me, I wanna feel it,” his thumb would not let up on her clit as he pushed further on her stomach, and with that, the scale tipped. Her whole body seized as she came, squeezing his cock in a vice as he continued to thrust to chase his own high and work Y/N through hers. Y/N’s back arched as she let go, a loud long moan escaping her. Blinking her eyes open she caught Harry’s gaze as he began to go slack-jawed about to meet his own end.

“Come, want you to come, baby. Need to see you come, Harry,” she begged as she began to recover from her second orgasm, her words were Harry’s undoing as he slammed into her once more, both hands gripping her hips to keep her still as he spilled into the condom that Y/N could still feel the warmth of him seep through the latex barrier.

“Shit,” Harry breathed out, falling into her neck, where he placed soft kisses to her sweaty skin as she stroked his fingers through his hair.

“You okay?” she questioned into the quiet once they had caught their breath.

“Peachy… you?” he sighed out, raising his head from her neck to look at her.

“Me? Yeah, I’m fine, great in fact,” she said, though Harry wasn’t convinced as he pulled out with a hiss, quickly disposing of the condom before laying down to face her.

“Hey, m’serious, what’s up?” he questioned tucking her hair back that had fallen into her face as she flipped to lay facing him too.

“I don’t know, that was… weird, right? We don’t do stuff like that, we don’t like each other,” she stammered out while also, subconsciously, leaning into Harry’s touch that lingered on her face.

“It’s only weird if we make it weird,” Harry stated simply as he drank her in, her skin glowing and eyes sparkling in post-orgasmic bliss, although she was still lost in thought, as she contemplated his words.

“I lied though,” Harry said softly as her eyes snapped up to his as he kept her gaze, “I don’t hate you, not even a little bit,” he breathed out, a small airy laugh following his admission, who would have thought he just need to have sex with Y/N to reveal how he truly felt.

“You piss me off, sometimes… a lot of the time actually” Y/N whispered into the dark as Harry laughed quietly at her remark, “but, I don’t hate you either, not at all,” she smiled softly at him before Harry wrapped his arms around her, pulling her into his chest, kissing her deeply.

Breaking away from the kiss, Harry looked into her eyes, “do I get nickname privileges now?”

Out in the hall, Y/N’s phone vibrated in her handbag, that had been cast aside with the jackets on the floor, with a text from her brunette best friend.

Sarah Jones: Me and Mitch home safe, thank youu soo much for coming Y/N/N.. enjoy your night with Harry xoxo

[kvnstwerk]

waiting patiently for all of the måneskin fanfics to drop,,,