#or tell me you brainworms that works also

[localcryptidinspo]

CURRENT BRAIN WORMS HAVE BEEN ANNOUNCED!

They are as follows

Sonic The Hedgehog

Fallout

Babel by R.F. Kuang

Splatoon

Yu-Gi-Oh

[just-beyond-ecoust]

pressure machine (album) by the killers x bj

in another life / s8ep22 / pressure machine / s8ep22 / in another life / s8ep22 / in the car outside / s8ep6 / in another life / s10ep17 / in another life

[bigsnorp]

genuinely and without irony i think we need to stop calling shit neurotypical until we figure out exactly what a typical neurotype looks like. what the fuck are you people.

[bluebudgie]

pro: hilarious blorbo content bc of in-character voice shenanigans

con: the continuous haunting guilt chanting "it's still a shit game stop interacting with it"

[synonymroll648]

opinion: ro’s character might be a lot more useful narrative-wise if her being a microbiologist wasn’t just acknowledged, but explored. 

in the books, we see her show the characters (and consequently, the reader) that she knows what she’s doing, and that ogres pride themselves on having a lot of knowledge when it comes to microbiology. particularly using that knowledge to make effective weapons, both almost harmless and lethal. 

but there’s so much more potential w/ ogre microbiology than just them having good weapons because of it. ogres (authorities, at least, like ro) being interested enough in expanding their microbiology knowledge that they’d be willing to collaborate more with other species? like how they cooperated with lady cadence on figuring out how soporidine works? it could open so many doors! 

we could have ro branching out to make ‘trial run’ alliances with other species (like elves, goblins, and most importantly, gnomes) to do joint studies of how certain things work on a microscopic and ‘normal’ scale. we could see that her being a princess doesn’t just mean she’s a good fighter and that she’s got connections, but she can also be a diplomat. it’d make her being in the lost cities a lot more important, plus, it’d be a great chance for shannon to flex some worldbuilding. ro could also flesh out connections she’s made in the lost cities (like with sophie’s bodyguards [i’m thinking of flori and sandor in particular] and elvin authorities she’s had to deal w/ like mr. forkle and the council) through sharing or gaining knowledge as a microbiologist. 

using ro as a character-driven plot device, ogres could add ‘willing to cooperate even with creatures we have negative history with for science’ to their reputation among other enlightened species. it’d make ogres more nuanced, and maybe, if shannon decided to go this route, cause problems for elves who claim their interspecies role is being peacekeepers. 

[relicsongmel]

POV: you're Dena and your favorite teacher is trying to cover up the fact she's fucking your mom

[sweeterthanficstion]

— take me back to eden || l.s.k

pairing: leon kennedy x fem!reader --- fem pronouns are not used, but written with fem!reader in mind. reader is afab

tags: high school au, college au, re2r leon -> re4r leon pipeline, childhood friends to strangers to friends to lovers, fluff, smut, a fuck ton of yearning MDNI 18+, male masturbation, p in v, unprotected sex (don't be silly, guys), loss of virginity, hand job, cunnilingus sort of, creampie, praise kink, breeding kink if you squint (sorry...) porn with plot, porn with feelings (like. too many feelings it's sort of gross)

summary: You try to desperately reignite an old friendship with Leon before high school wraps up. What starts out as a simple effort to mend things blossoms into something you couldn't have anticipated. But as summer ends, Leon’s moving away for College, leaving you in Raccoon City. Or so you thought.

word count: 10k ish

a/n: gosh, hi, it's been a while!! i've been fighting writer's block for nearly a year, and it definitely was NOT part of my plan to post leon smut before the knight fic, but cough ovulation week cough and uh.. this happened? big thanks to cressie for feeding the brainworms, and vivi for cheering me on, and of course eva for encouraging me to write again <33

also for the sake of my own sanity we're gonna pretend kairo was released in the 1990s because i just REALLY wanted them to watch kairo. and if you can catch all the song/movie references i make throughout this you'll get a gold star, anyway, enjoy! <3

playlist ⭑ masterlist ⭑AO3

If someone offered Leon a thousand dollars to pinpoint exactly where in the timeline of your friendship you’d grown apart, he wouldn’t be able to. Maybe it was just fate taking her course, friends growing apart. He’s tried to make peace with it, chalking it up to the inevitability of growing apart, another lesson in the long list of things he’s had to learn to accept.

But it doesn’t stop him from missing you. More than he’s willing to admit, even to himself.

Between college applications and finals, Leon’s life is already at full capacity, he’s fast-tracking, tunnel vision set on finishing senior year and getting into Stanford so he can get the hell out of Raccoon City. And he’s got it, he’s got this.

But then there you are, barrelling back into his life with all the force of something impossible to ignore, as if you’d never really left his orbit, as if the universe decided it wasn’t quite done with the two of you yet. Your smile hasn’t changed, still sweet and sticky like molasses. It’s disarming when  you ask if he can tutor you, voice light and breezy, as if no time has passed between you at all— just a few sessions here and there! You tell him, just to save you from failing another semester of chemistry.

He agrees nearly blindly, the words out of his mouth before he has time to think them through.

It has been so long since you’d even talked to him properly, anything other than a ‘hi’ or a ‘bye’ muttered in the school hallways before you’re whisked away by your friends. He’s honestly elated you’d approached him at all—he tried not to show it, though.

And he did great the first few sessions. Sure, it was more than awkward at first—but Leon was partly thankful for it. It left little room for him to entertain the idea of staying friends with you again for long. You’d create a simple routine together wherein you’d come over to his place, he’d teach you everything from organic to physical chemistry, then you’d bid him goodnight and leave. Simple. Predictable. Routine.

But then you started to break that routine, a variable that he hadn’t accounted for. You’d kick his foot under the dining table while you worked on homework together, laugh at his jokes even when they’re painfully bad because you think it’s cute. Then when you have to migrate upstairs after his parents come home from work, you’d settle onto his bed, glancing around his room and teasing him about how little he’d changed—still the same movie posters, still the same boy you once knew. 

You tell him about your day, he tells you about his, then you’ll go as far as to stay a little longer some nights, both of you acutely aware of the time but not doing a thing about it. 

He finds with time, he’s learnt to enjoy your company again. It isn’t so tense, no longer like walking on the glass shards of your previously shattered relationship. It’s easier now, as if none of the vast ocean separating you was ever there to begin with. He tries not to dwell on the fact that this newfound relationship is built entirely on the twenty dollar bill you hand him each night.

Then one night Leon’s mother invites you to stay for dinner, he expects you to politely decline, hand him the twenty dollar bill for the tuition, and leave. 

But much to Leon’s surprise, you don’t.

It’s catalytic, like a domino effect that he’s helpless against stopping. It gets so much worse when you offer to stay behind to help clean up. All but glowing as you strike up casual conversation with his mother, as if you’d never stopped visiting over the past six years. You’re a sweet talker, always have been, you compliment his mother on her cooking, ask her for the recipe, she tells you you’ll just have to come over and help her make it one night. You laugh, meeting Leon’s gaze as you tell her you just might have to.

God, Leon’s so fucked.

Absolutely fucked when he catches himself thinking about you in the middle of class, eyes trained like a hawk on the door to the classroom, waiting to see if you’ll show or not. You don’t. He’s not really surprised. He finds he doesn’t exactly mind though. Frankly, it’s none of his business whether you show or not, and a part of him likes the extra attention he gets out of it when you ask him all the questions you’d know if you did show up to classes while he’s tutoring you.

You’ll have your pen between your teeth like you always do, run a hand through your hair as you watch him work, bat those stupidly pretty eyelashes at him when you don’t understand what he’s trying to say. 

“None of this is making sense,” You huff, shoving your head into your hands, elbows braced on his dining room table. 

You catch the glimpse of sympathy that flashes across Leon’s face when you peek at him through your fingers, and eternally cringe at how you must look.

“Just one more chapter, then we’ll be done.” He promises, tapping the eraser end of his pencil on your notebook. 

He’s got that boyish smile on his lips when you meet his gaze, his thin-framed glasses perched atop his face make him look so much cuter than you remember him being when you were kids.

Your heart constricts in the familiar way it always does nowadays. A sickening reminder that you have a secret; closely guarded in your heart, tucked away by lock and key. You’re in love with your best friend.

Well, your once best friend. The term "best friends" feels outdated, like it belongs to a version of you that no longer exists. It’s partly your fault— well, mostly your fault. The rift between you didn’t just appear; you carved it out with every sorry excuse you’d made at fourteen when you’d chosen your flashy new friends over time spent with Leon.

But what were you to do? Middle school turned to High School and you’d gone from the sad lonely girl at the back of the class to someone worth looking at. 

And Leon? Well, you convinced yourself he was only dragging you down, or that’s what you told yourself to help to ease the guilt every time you brushed him off.

Was it shitty of you to pay your way back into his life? Yeah, but you’re also sort of a coward when it comes to confrontation. There were a million better ways to try to fix what you broke, but here you are, handing Leon twenty bucks a week for a chance to be close to him again.

Either way life moves on, and you find yourself falling for him. Stupidly, helplessly, completely.

Leon finds he’s drowning just as you are.

He’s so far past the point of just fucked. He’s utterly infatuated at this point. You’re stunning, every bit as beautiful as the word allows, beautiful as he watches you across the gym at a morning assembly. You’re busy talking to one of those jocks on the football team, Calvin? Chris? He can’t remember, he doesn’t care. Or that's what he tells himself.

He cares. He cares entirely too much, especially when you curl a lock of your hair around your finger, smiling at whatever bullshit Chris must be spouting with that mouth of his. Leon sinks into his seat further, diverts his attention to the front of the auditorium, but his gaze keeps drifting back to you. He’s desperate to ignore what definitely seems like you flirting with someone who definitely isn’t himself. 

He’s not jealous though, Leon isn’t jealous. ‘Course not.

That’s what he repeats to himself later that night, alone in his bed when his hand curls around the length of his hard dick, tip weeping as he gives a pitiful tug, teeth sunk into his bottom lip. 

He tries incredibly desperately to stifle the whine that bubbles up his throat, hand moving on its own accord as his eyes flutter shut. He doesn’t even realise he’s holding his breath until he starts getting light headed, too caught up chasing his own high. He comes embarrassingly fast, one, two, three, four more pumps and he’s done for, your name the last thing on his lips.

Leon swallows thickly before the crushing reality that he’d imagined you as he came fills him with a burst of shame. He tries to push the thought aside as quickly as it comes, groaning as he moves to sit on the edge of his bed. 

Yeah. He’s fucked.

A few weeks later, Leon finds himself sitting on the bleachers after class. He wouldn’t be caught dead out here less than a few weeks ago, but you had given him such a sweet smile when you’d told him you had cheer practice, asked him if he’d be okay waiting just a little before going back to his place for tuition.

It’s not so bad, he thinks, as he flicks through the songs on his cheap mp3 player. But even with that distraction, you’re far more captivating. You're dazzling, to say the least—dress glimmering under the afternoon sun as you go through your routine. Leon watchs and tries not to stare. 

It’s when you walk up to him though, all but shimmering, glowing under golden hour, that it hits him like a freight train all at once. He’s fallen horrifically far from his pedestal, what he feels for you now is so much more than what he did for you as kids. Not just as a friend, and yet much more than a schoolboy crush. 

The next few events unfold very quickly—you sit down next to him on the bleachers, the skin of your thigh pressing to his where your dress rides up. He freezes, his own skin flushing a shade of pink that he hopes goes unnoticed. You press your ear against his headset, stick your tongue out between your lips as if you’re in dire concentration, trying to hear what’s playing.

“What’re you listening to?” You ask when you pull away, pushing the headset off his head before you slide them over your own ears. 

You light up at what you hear, “The Smiths? Seriously, Leon, you have not changed.”

He rolls his eyes, running a hand through his hair to fix it from where your hands had mused it. “They’re good,” His voice is soft despite the protest in his tone. It’s then, you realise, that he’s blushing. 

Cute, cute, cute, you think. There is a particular warmth that blossoms in your chest seeing him like this, one that only Leon can really elicit.

You smile brighter,  “Yeah, I know. I love The Smiths.”

Leon looks starstruck. Of course you do. 

It doesn’t stop there, much to Leon’s own disappointment. He’d hoped after the school year was over you’d go back to not talking to him, and he could move past this and never think about it again (yeah, as if). 

But you don’t. At this point he should just stop wishing for anything at all. Clearly the universe is working against him in the fickle way it always has.

You call him every few nights, ask how he is, what he’s doing, if he’s busy. Things friends would ask each other. Do you count as friends? Leon would like to think so. But then again, he probably shouldn’t be picturing a friend’s face when he’s tugging at his own dick.

You should come over sometime. You say over the phone one night, voice sweet even over the shitty receptor of his home landline. His back straightens a little at your words, the lilt in your voice, as he leans against the counter in his kitchen.

He imagines you lying on your bed, feet kicked up as you hold your flashy new flip-phone between your shoulder and your ear. He wonders what you’re wearing. 

Hello? Your voice crackles, and he’s immediately pulled from his thoughts. C’mon, it’s not that bad of an idea. You laugh on the other end.

He hesitates. Yes, yes, yes, his mind screams at him. Well, I mean… what for?

Lame fucking answer.

Do I need a reason to invite my friend over?

He goes a little rigid at that, mulling over his next words as he feels heat climb up his neck. So we’re friends again now?

The line goes quiet for so long he’s sure you’ve abandoned your phone and left the line open. He nearly hangs up, letting out a sigh as he goes to rehook the landline back on the wall before your voice filters through at the last minute.

Of course we are, silly! Well, I mean— I know the secret Kennedy pasta recipe now.

He smiles then. That you do.

When Leon gets to your place, the cold Summer night air is sharp against his skin. He’s barely touched the doorbell when the front door swings open, the wide smile on your face is contagious—a spontaneous reaction sets off in his heart. 

“Hi,” You grin.

“Hey,” He greets, albeit a little awkwardly. 

You’re endeared, to say the least.

You lead him through the familiar hallways of your home, past family photos he’s seen countless times before, into the family media room, tucked away at the back of the house. It hasn’t changed much from the last time he was here—God, what was that? Six, eight years ago?—he recalls fond memories of escaping your parent’s annual Christmas parties to watch Christmas Mountain while snuggled up on the couch together instead.

“What about that one?” You hum, legs pulled up onto the large plush sofa in your media room, tucking your knees under your chin as you wave a hand at one of the titles in the box of your father’s old DVDs.

“You wanna watch Kairo?” Leon sounds amused, pulling the title out of the box before handing it to you.

You shrug, flipping the case over in your hand, honestly having no idea what the movie is about or what you’re getting yourself into. You just want him to pick a damn movie and get on with it. He’s always been like this, indecisive and hesitant about most things—you’ve always been the opposite, headstrong and impulsive. Yet, the two of you have always been tied together with a gold thread of string, your mother likes to say so, anyway.

You and Leon. Leon and You. An apple and an orange, not the same yet still belonging side by side.

It’s Leon’s voice that pulls you back to the present, taking the case from your hands before he cracks it open and insert the disc it into the silver DVD player. The screen flickers to life, and you quit chasing the DVD logo with your gaze as it bounces across the screen to fish for the TV remote as Leon joins you on the couch. 

He sits at the opposite end, and you’re acutely aware of the distance he’s put between the both of you. You’re not surprised at how your heart sinks at the implications of his actions.

Leon finds the remote before you do, silence settling over the room like thick fog as he flicks through the DVD menu. You will yourself not to get too freaked out by the eerie music or the haunting silhouette of the girl pressed against the screen.

“I didn’t think you liked horror movies,” Leon muses, not really meeting your gaze as he flicks through to press play. “Most people I know say it’s not all that great but—” And he rambles. God, he rambles and you want to kiss his stupid mouth shut.

The first thirty minutes of the movie are slow but not short of horrifying. You’re not sure if you’re thankful or frustrated when all Leon does is talk about SFX or behind the scene cuts, or how they did this and how they did that —endearingly sweet in a way that makes your heart flutter. You’re semi-grateful for the distraction.

He’s a sweetheart in every sense of the word, asking if you’re okay after you startle from a jumpscare. Partially annoyed until you realise he’s not even teasing you. You find it twice as sweet, though, when you notice him all but staring at you in your periphery.

Charming blue eyes that set you a little more on edge.

“The movie’s on the screen, not my face,” You tease, finally meeting his gaze when you glance back at him, kicking him across the couch playfully. 

He swallows, praying for the upteenth time that you don’t notice the burning of his skin he feels at getting caught, before he glances back at you.

“I mean, I think I’d much rather look at you than the movie,” He shoots back, the honesty in his voice surprising even himself.

The air leaves his lungs the moment you turn to look at him, nearly giving yourself whiplash. Leon’s sure he should find this moment awkward, scary, any number of things, but he’s too distracted. You’re so tempting, sweet doll eyes, lashes that kiss your cheeks as you smile at him, and again, he finds himself starstruck. 

Your gaze holds his for a moment longer than it should, a gentle tilt of your head and he’s done for. The teasing smile lingering on your lips slips into something softer, the room feels smaller, the space between you even more so. 

“You alright?” You hum, you’re not even sure what you’re saying, you can’t hear your own voice over the blood thrumming in your ears.

Leon doesn’t really hear you either, he tries to, he does, but then your gaze drops to his lips and— God, is this happening? He’d ask you to pinch him if his voice wasn’t stuck in his damn throat.

You search his face, trying to find any hint of jest, but all you see is the way his eyes linger on you, tracing the curves of your lips, the line of your jaw. For the first time in a long time you find yourself nervous to kiss a boy. There’s a current between you, energy fizzling in a way that pricks your skin—fireworks, and he hasn’t even touched you yet.

Before you can give yourself the chance to second guess it, you close the distance, your lips brushing against his. His breath hitches, and you smile against his lips, a gentle hand cupping his jaw, curling into his soft hair. The rest of the room drowns out, all he can hear is his heart beating in his ears and all he can feel is the flush of his own skin and you. Impossibly close in a way that’s already got him hook, line and sinker.

The kiss immediately and successfully turns Leon’s brain to mush, letting out a shaky breath as you incline your head, a soft groan falling past your lips and tumbling into his. Your shoulders drop, another arm looping around his neck. It’s a lot at once, your body against his, the thrumming of his heart, the way he tries desperately not to fuck up the kiss, or give away that he hasn’t exactly had much experience in this department at all.

Leon only realises he’s still rigid when you pull away, your breath a hot puff of air against his face. He thinks you must’ve laughed, cheeks heating up, but then his eyes flutter open and you’ve got a look on your face that he can’t place. Your hand smooths down the golden locks of his hair.

“Are you nervous?” Your voice is so impossibly soft.

Leon blushes deeper. “Is it obvious?”

“A little,” You smile.

“I don’t– I haven’t–” He stutters, the words coming out a jumbled mess that makes your heart ache a little.

“Hey, no, it’s okay.” You rush to reassure when you realise what must be going through his mind. “Just… follow my lead, yeah?”

He nods, tight lipped then.

Your laugh is sticky sweet, alluring in a way that makes him feel all too light-headed. You lean in again, “Relax.”

He lets out a breath, and you take the opportunity of his parted lips to deepen the kiss properly, the muscle of your tongue flattening out against his bottom lip. Leon lets out a strangled moan—fireworks burst across your skin for the second time.

“You can hold me,” You mumble against his mouth, hands tightening in his hair. “If it’ll make you less nervous.”

Leon swallows thickly, nodding as his nose brushes against yours, lips already red and aching. One of his hands tentatively moves back into your hair, he tilts his head, trying to deepen the kiss the same way you had. His movements are albeit clumsy, uncertain; betraying his inexperience, but there’s a raw sincerity in his attempt that leaves you charmed. Slowly, he slides down against the sofa, pulling you with him, his body sinks into the cushions until he’s lying down, your body resting atop his.

You want more, more, more . Want to press your tongue to the seam of his lips, part them, taste him properly—you almost do, growing just as eager as he is as you push yourself higher atop him, bracketing his waist with your thighs as you press your lips to his harder. 

Your nose knocks his glasses askew when moving your head, and you feel him tense ever-so underneath you, as if realising it at the same time, and you can sense his confidence wavering.

You pull back just an inch then, he all but groans in protest. His nose bumps against yours, lips parted and eager for more. “Slow down,” You giggle. “M’not going anywhere.”

“Sorry,” He mumbles, his voice laced with embarrassment. The warmth from his blush radiates under your palm.

Without missing another beat, you reach up to carefully slide his glasses off his face. Leon blinks up at you. He looks like he’s short-circuited, giving way to a vulnerability that makes your heart ache. 

“There,” you whisper, folding the frames before setting the glasses atop the coffee table. “How’s that?”

You’re cruel, though, don’t give him a moment to gather his thoughts, let alone respond. It’s a bit of cat and mouse to you; tease, tease, tease. Gve in just a little, pull away a little more. 

You’re pressing your lips back to his again before another moment can pass. But Leon doesn’t protest; how could he when you’re so close, your bodies pressed together like this?

Leon’s confidence grows with each swipe of your tongue against his. His hands grow bolder, they move over your shoulder blades, down your spine, pressing against the curve of your back. A soft groan tumbles from your lips, your hips pushing down against his, he lets out a shaky moan in kind.

Cute, cute, cute. You’d drown in the soft sounds that tumble from his lips given the chance.

Your hands begin to wander, trailing down his chest, over his beating heart. You rub circles against his chest, as if to satiate the burning desire that’s stuck between his ribs. 

Your lips, on the other hand, begin their descent.

You start with the corner of his mouth, then you follow the line of his jaw, down the column of his neck, the divot of his throat (that rewards you with a mewl). You decorate his collar in a blossoming painting of delicate bruises, tug down the collar of his shirt enough to reveal as much skin as possible for your lips to work over.

A soft smile curls on your lips even as you kiss him, and you realise with a flicker of amusement that he’s shaking beneath you—It’s an endearing quiver, like a newborn fawn finding its first footing. His hands tighten in the fabric of your shirt, holding on as if trying to anchor himself.

“You okay?” You hum as you pull away, Leon assumes you’re gracing him with a breather before he registers your hands working his shirt up his body. 

It’d be rude to let you do all the work, so he shifts enough to tug it over his own head, discarding it on the floor of your theatre room bathed in blue—the movie long forgotten.

Leon’s large hands settle back against the swell of your hips, his thumb runs over the bone of your hip through the fabric of your shorts. He gives you a gentle nod. “M’alright,” He mumbles, but his voice has grown thick, stuck in the cavern of his throat.

“Do you… want to keep going?” You ask softly, your voice is tentative, as if dipping your toes into the deep end, testing the waters.

His mind screams yes, he settles for a “ Please ,” that comes out shakier than he’d like instead.

Your hands make quick work, moving down to undo the button of his jeans, fumbling clumsily in the wake of your excitement that you try incredibly hard to school. For the most part you do, refusing to cave too fast.

You’re acutely aware this is Leon’s first time—he doesn’t have to tell you, you can tell by his shaky voice, and shaky hands, by the way he looks at you as if you’ve just about hung the stars and the planets. To be fair, he’s always looked at you like that. Something akin to a sweet puppy.

Jesus Christ, you’re losing it.

When you finally pop the button, tug the zipper down achingly slow, Leon mewls, his hand on your hip curling into your flesh bruisingly. Fuck.

Your gaze meets his once again. “I’m gonna– I’m gonna go slow, okay? You’ve gotta tell me to stop if you don’t like anything, alright?” As desperate as you are to get your hands on him, you’d never forgive yourself if you ruined his first time.

Leon nods like he’s on autopilot, dutifully, as if the idea of you ruining anything for him is a stupid one. “Yeah, I will– Just, please, ” His voice grows impossibly quiet, “Don’t think I can wait–”

God. You go a little lightheaded.

Your hands make quick work of his jeans then, pushing them down along with his boxers. You’re blessed with a heavenly sight. His cock, pretty and flushed and all but drooling. It’s nearly erotic, has your head swimming. 

“Jesus, Leon.” You huff, eyes wide as you look back up to meet his gaze.

Leon swallows thickly, throat bobbing as his eyes bore into yours, blown wide, rings of blue barely visible. God what a sight. He doesn’t respond, can’t. His throat is thick with something he cannot place. You’re a vision to him like this—hair spilling over your shoulders, framing your head like a halo, thick eyelashes that flutter sweetly down at him. His cheeks heat, neck growing impossibly hot. 

Your hands dance over his stomach, his abdomen, tracing the contours of his skin as you watch his face to gauge each reaction, each shiver, every tremble of his lips.

You’re cruel, you’re so impossibly cruel and, oh— Nevermind. You’re an angel.

You giggle at his blissed out expression as your hand curls around the base of his dick. “That what you needed?” 

Leon’s eyes flutter shut, head tips back as your hand inches up. He resists the urge to buck right into the tunnel of your palm. “Mmhmm…”

“Can’t speak now either?” You coo sweetly.

Something soft bubbles up past his throat, a mewl, a whine, you don’t know what to call it, but God does it make your cunt flutter in time with your heart. “C’mon, Leon, let me hear you.”

And God does he.

You pull whimper after whimper from his pretty lips, tumbling out like prayer each time. You are the chappel he worships at, the altar where he falls to his feet. He thinks if he died like this he could be happy, would go willingly, accept his fate—

“D’you want… more?” The words echo around in his skull.

He couldn’t have nodded faster. 

You’re both giddy and giggling as you pull away, his hands eager as they pull your shorts and underwear off at once. If you could memorise the way he looked at you right now, you would. Leon’s eyes rove over your thighs, the space between them that glistens, in a way that makes you shy despite the hesitance in his own. 

“You’re pretty,” He says thickly, and there’s not a tease behind his words, not a jest. He says them with such sincerity you stutter to a halt. 

You blink, caught in his gaze. Leon watches you carefully, his own eyes wide, as if he’s not sure whether he’s overstepped some invisible boundary. The heat in your cheeks burns a little brighter, and you find yourself instinctively breaking eye contact, glancing away to gather yourself.

His words feel as if they’ve lodged themself in between the left and right ventricles of your heart. Suddenly, you feel the need to close the distance again, your hand slipping to cup his face, brushing a thumb over the flush of his cheek. 

He hums against your lips, hands climbing up your back, under your shirt, slipping under the strap of your bra. 

Your hips are gentle, moving over his instinctively, like something written into your DNA. The subtle brush over the underside of his length has him gasping—you preen internally at the reaction.

But you’re impatient, as impatient as he is, eager for more, eager to take, eager to please. You sink down over him slowly, revel in the silky stretch you’re graced with, moaning around his tongue as your heart feels like it’ll burst out of your chest.

The feeling is near incandescent to Leon, his mind already too far gone. 

“Eyes open, baby,” Your voice comes, shattering the haze of his mind. 

Baby, baby, baby.

He’s hardwired to comply.

You’re something holy above him, head crested by the glow of the moon spilling through the windows, wings of starlight, angel-song falling from your lips as your hips move over his. He wants to swallow each sound. You have the grace to let him.

Your body presses to his as you lean down, chasing his lips in a kiss that surely rewires his brain chemistry. Each moan you let out is like honey in his mouth, sweet and addicting, his tongue pushes past your lips, seeking out as much as you’ll give him.

You’re ecstasy. Entirely too addicting; Leon can’t get enough. Each time you sink down on him again, he’s sure it steals more breath from his lungs. And with earth-shattering realisation, he knows he’s not going to last. “M’close.”

He’s puppy-dog cute like this, pout on his lips, a cinch between his eyebrows that you smooth with your thumb. “I can tell.”

His hand moves to where yours are on his chest, taking one in his own, intertwining your fingers. It’s so fucking over for you. 

“I can’t—” His hips buck up into yours, but his movements are reserved, you clock his desperation to hold out immediately.

“God, Leon, please do. I want you to.”

It doesn’t take much longer than that. He comes within three, four, five ruts of your hips against his, a warning on his lips before you pull off him and his release coats the muscles of his abdomen. You’re left aching, but you can’t find it in yourself to mind, not when you have him underneath you like this.

“Shit, God,” He groans. “That was… fast.”

You sense the apology on his tongue and shake your head before he can get there.

“No, don’t. It was… it was good.”

Leon can’t believe his ears. It was good? He did good?

“Yeah?” You hear the anticipation in his voice, higher at the end, a question.

Smiling, you nod. “Uhuh. Plus, we can… Work on it.”

The implication of doing this again sometime is enough to have him mirroring your smile. 

But soon summer’s over and college is starting. You decide to take a year off, figure yourself out. 

But Leon’s always had big dreams. Before you know it he’s packed his life into boxes, ready to move across the country to California. You can’t lie to yourself forever, pretend that what you feel for him is superficial, that you won’t miss him with a longing that will linger for months.

Your heart aches the night before he leaves. His head on your stomach, looking up at you with those puppy dog sweet eyes, half lidded and hair mused from where you’d grabbed and tugged while he’d lapped at your sweet cunt all night.

“I’m gonna miss you,” The words slip out softly, surprising even yourself. Lately, you’ve found vulnerability escaping you more often around him. A tenderness you’re learning to grow used to again.

Leon’s gaze lifts to yours, sweet baby blues that you try to memorise even in the low light of your bedroom. “I’ll visit.”

“I know.”

There’s a sickening silence that follows. You ache to tell him everything, pour your heart out for him to pick up, but you don’t.

Leon promises to call you as soon as he gets to his new dorm, and he does. For the first few months, everything goes smoothly. You and Leon fall back into that regular routine—you call him every now and then, he updates you on his day, you tell him about yours. But as fate has it, the chasm between the two of you begins to split once more, you feel him drift away, caught up in his flashy new life. 

Turns out distance does make the heart grow fonder.

There are things Leon doesn’t tell you either. Like how he’s been binge-watching those awful horror movies you always mention nowadays (you’ve developed a weird fondness for the gore). Or that he’s started tutoring again. Or that he wishes you were here. God, he really wants to tell you that last one.

He thinks of you all the time, even when he probably shouldn’t—between classes, during his morning coffee before the 8 a.m. lab, while driving from his part-time job to campus. He thinks of you in the inbetweens, when his mind seems to wander. The thoughts come unbidden, when there’s a million other things he should have at the forefront of his mind, you’re there.

And then there’s the way he pictures you every time.

Leon’s not exactly proud of the number of hook-ups he’s had since college. One party turned into two, then three, then four. Simple drinking games blurred into long nights with countless girls underneath him who he now doesn't even remember the faces of.

Convinced if he shut his eyes, if he really focused, he could imagine it was you whimpering under him instead, your hands on his body, your lips melding around his name oh so perfectly.

It was never the same though. Never would be.

None of these girls sounded like you, none of them fucked like you, none of them felt like you did. Like they were made for him, like he could get lost in their cunts forever. It was pathetic, really, the way he’d so willingly chase that unmatchable high forever. Nothing would compare. Nothing, nothing, nothing.

So by the time semester break rolls around, he’s already packed his bags, and the four hour route from California back to Raccoon City has been set before he’s even finished his finals.

Raccoon hasn’t changed, still the same sleepy city tucked away between twin mountain ranges, the smell of pine heavy in the air. His house is how he left it, so is his neighbourhood. He drives by the familiar faded sign of Emmy’s Diner, the Police Department with its big white hollywood-style letters and rusting iron gates.

He heard that you work at the new video store down the road from his house now. Flashy, neon signs and all. Leon wonders what it’s been like for you, staying behind when he left for college, how the city has cradled you in its unchanged arms. If you’ve missed him like he’s missed you.

He pushes the glass panelled door to the video store open, the store bell tinkling in wake of his arrival. He’s fidgety. Leon hasn’t been fidgety in a very long time. He does not remember the last time he hesitated around a girl. Well, he does, it was you when he was awkward and nineteen, but since then? It has been a long road. Too long.

But then he spots you, and it’s as if the world narrows down to this one moment.

You’re leaning against the counter, eyes downcast, lazily flipping through a magazine. The overhead lights catch the strands of your hair—it’s shorter now. He wonders when you had it cut, why you chose the new style. A part of him aches, realising just how much time has passed, how long a year can be when he’s not in your orbit.

Without thinking, he beelines for the horror section, eyes scanning the rows of movie titles as his fingers brush over each DVD spine. He glances at you out of his periphery, half-watching the way you absentmindedly flip through your magazine.

Come on, come on, come on.

H, I, J, K… 

Bingo.

He slides Kairo across the counter, heart stumbling in his chest. You don’t even glance up as you take it into your hands, half-focused on whatever glossy pages have your interest, but you do smile when you register the title in your hands.

“Good choice,” you hum, your fingers already moving to punch the movie code into the register.

“Yeah? You think so?” His voice is a little rougher than he intended, but he presses on, tries to act casual as he leans up against the counter. In honesty, he feels like a dork. “Most people I know say it’s not all that great…”

Your fingers freeze over the buttons. That voice, those words. Your eyes shoot up to meet his. 

“Leon?”

“Hey.” He smiles, catching the way your expression shifts, disbelief melting into something warmer. “What’s wrong? Looks like you’ve seen a ghost.”

You laugh suddenly, that bright, familiar sound, filling the empty space between you. For a moment the months apart don’t seem so long. “God, you did not just quote Scream at me.”

Leon’s dusty blonde hair falls into his eyes as he drops his head to hide his grin. “Yeah that was… Not my best.”

Shaking your head, you slide the DVD back across the counter, still smiling beautifully at him.  “You didn’t tell me you were going to be back in town!” You sound breathless as the words escape you.

“Just for the semester break,” He says, his voice steady but soft. “Figured I’d come back before you forgot what I look like.”

You blink. Something in his expression must’ve given him away, because then you smile—small, almost shy. “I missed you too,” you hum, and the words hang in the air like they’ve been waiting to be said.

But just like that you bounce back, as if the vulnerability in your tone was never even there at all, drumming your fingers across the countertop. “You shoulda told me, we could’ve planned something nice.”

“Oh, like a date?”

You blush. Blush. Fuck. You don’t remember him being this forward.

“Are you suggesting something, Kennedy?” You tilt your head, honeyed gaze and all.

Damn you and those fucking eyes, he thinks.

“Well, I was thinking… maybe we could go to Emmy’s after your shift? You know, catch up, and I can tell you all the terrible jokes I’ve collected since I’ve been away.”

Your smile widens, and there’s something in your eyes that makes him feel like he might’ve just found his way back home. “I’d like that, Leon. A lot.”

Emmy’s diner hums with a life that he’s missed. The sound of casual conversation, plates clattering, the soft croon of Bob Dylan from the old jukebox. It’s how he left it. Same peeling leather booths, linoleum tables, vinyl floorings, bottomless pots of coffee and the smell of sizzling burgers over the griddle in the back. 

You share a booth at the back, your boots propped up on the round metal base of the table while you watch Leon with a small pout as he stands by the counter, waiting for a takeout box. The old fluorescent lights cast a soft glow over him, highlighting the little changes—slightly broader shoulders, a more defined jawline, longer hair, no glasses. But he’s still your Leon.

When he turns back, takeaway box in hand, he catches you in the act—a fry pinched between your fingers, dragging it through his ketchup in lazy swirls. You beam up at him, your eyes crinkling at the corners, and Leon feels his chest do a violent lurch, feels his heart rattle in the cage of his ribs, clawing to jump out and into your waiting hands.

It’s the kind of smile that would have driven him crazy when he was younger—when he was all nerves and stuttered words around you. And God, if it doesn’t still have the same effect.

“You know,” Leon starts as he settles into his seat, “there’s a fine line between sharing and stealing. You’re definitely crossing it.”

You roll your eyes, pushing the fry basket back towards him in a silent peace offering. “You weren’t going to finish them anyway.”

Leon chuckles softly, he doesn’t know what to say then, no witty quip on his tongue or eager reply.  “It's about the principle," His voice finally comes, something soft. "But I guess I’ll let it slide this once." 

You laugh, and the sound is like a balm, soothing the ache in his chest. “How generous of you,” you reply, playing footsies with him under the table. It’s in this moment Leon realises, everything he’s ever wanted is right in front of him. He’s spent so much of his life chasing. Chasing, chasing, chasing, he’s always been chasing. 

Now he thinks he’d like to slow down.

And that’s what he does, when he takes you home that night, you twirl through the door of his old home, giddy as you track the familiar path to his bedroom. It’s how you remember it, same posters on the wall, same black Paul Reed Smith tucked into the corner.

Leon, however, is so much gentler than you remember him being, careful hands sliding up your waist as he walks you back towards his bed. Your calves hit the edge, breath caught in your throat as you tilt your head up to meet his gaze. His lips find yours, slot perfectly, he groans against your lips and you melt into his embrace.

Leon’s palm slides down to the underside of your thigh, lifts it up enough to help you back onto the bed. 

Your words get caught in your throat, but they’re not needed—not now, not with Leon. He’s always known you like the back of his hand. His lips move over your face, your cheek, your jaw. Your arms settle around his neck.

It’s like muscle memory to Leon now, the way he slots his knee between your thighs, how his hands move over your torso, up your body.

Your mind wanders—a dangerous thing in times like these—and you find yourself growing a little jealous. You're not dense; you know he’s probably had other girls in his bed between his time away in California. You wonder if they were any good. 

Leon doesn’t let you dwell on those thoughts, has your voice catching in your throat as his fingers tease the underside of your breasts. He looks up at you, those same deep blue eyes studying you, yet unreadable all the same. Your skin burns beneath his gentle touch. Hot, hot, hot everywhere he touches.

One of his hands come up to cup the same cheek he had kissed earlier, his touch featherlight. He looks at you—part adoring, part like he’s planning your ruination.

“Leon… Please. ” You beg desperately then, and in response he groans. As if he’s waited too long to hear you say his name like that again, all needy and breathless.

“Makes me wanna wreck you,” He murmurs against your mouth, his breath hot and heady, “when you talk like that. So fuckin’ sweet.”

And God if that doesn’t do it for you. A whine falls past your lips, eager, tender, desperate, and Leon’s sure he’s never heard anything as beautiful in his life.

Your skirt is off in a flash, so is his shirt, then yours, then his jeans, so on and so forth until your bare cunt is pressing against his thigh he’s conveniently slotted back between the apex of your legs. He presses his knee up against your wet cunt, mutual groans filling his bedroom. All it takes is a tremble of your lips, and Leon’s kissing you twice as hard.

“Tell me what you need,” He’s eager to please.

“You.” You, you, you, always you.

There’s a reverence in your words he cannot shake, a promise laced into the moan that tumbles from your lips. His hands smooth over your abdomen again, spreading your thighs wider to accommodate him in the space between.

“Yeah?” He hums, one of his hands runs from the corner of your jaw to your chin, the other gives a purposeful squeeze to your waist. “I need you too. Want you.”

The sincerity in his voice floors you, hits you harder than any kiss, any touch. This isn’t just lust, this is Leon, raw and open, offering you something more than you’d expected. Something you’ve always wanted but were too scared to admit. You feel the sudden sting of tears kiss the corners of your eyes, startling yourself. 

“Leon…” you start, your voice barely above a whisper. He cuts you off with a gentle kiss, one that’s soft and sweet, filled with a promise that leaves you breathless.

"You’re it for me. I’m yours," he whispers into your mouth. "If you’ll have me."

Your heart stumbles over itself, caught somewhere between disbelief and a feeling you’re not sure how to put into words. “I’ve always had you.”

He laughs softly then, “Yeah. Guess you have, huh?”

It’s now, he realises, you’d never left his orbit in the first place. You’d always been there, one way or another, a constant in his life he’d never be able to shake despite how hard he’d try. You really are it for him.

“I want you too,” You blurt, the words tumbling out too fast. “I want this, want you. I always have.”

The rest is unsaid. He kisses you again with a smile, your hands drift over his back, trace the contours of every plane of muscle, press against the space between his shoulders. His hands run over the curve of your breasts, the dip of your waists, caress the skin of your thighs and leave gooseflesh in their wake. You can’t stand it—how utterly gentle he is. It makes you want to cry.

You take Leon’s hand, leading it down to where you need him most. With precision you drag his fingers up through your folds, tantalisingly slow before pressing the pad of his index to your clit. You let out the softest of whimpers at the sight, his hand on your cunt. Fuck. You don’t take your eyes off the sight before you, even as you push his fingers back down, until you slip just the tip of his finger past your walls.

Your gaze flicks up to gauge his reaction, and you're more than pleased at the sight before you. Leon Kennedy, his eyes wide, mouth hung open in a small ‘o’, like he’s never seen pussy before.

“What’s wrong, baby?” You hum, amusement dripping from your lips—but your voice comes out in between panted breathes, unable to still your thump, thump, thumping heart.

He looks back up to meet your gaze, shaking his head as a grin stretches across his lips. “No, sweetheart, don’t play your games with me.” He huffs, withdrawing his hand, leaving you whining, before he pushes your thigh up to your chest.

You’re disappointed by just how fast he manages to school himself, no longer desperate for more, now invested in the waiting game.

“You want it that bad?” He croons, voice a teasing lilt against the shell of your ear, kissing the skin behind it as his body comes back down over yours. Your leg hooks around his back, hands on his shoulders, in his hair. 

“Are you gonna make me beg?” Your laugh is soft, breathlessly incredulous.

He grins against your skin as he presses a kiss to your neck. “I wouldn’t mind that.”

His lips trail a path from neck to collar, tender kisses that intensify into bruising hickeys so fast your head swims. He litters your chest in lovebites, his hand moving on its own accord as he presses two fingers against your sopping cunt. He teases you, drawing circles around your entrance, grinning against the valley of your breast as he kisses down your sternum when your cunt flutters against his hand.

He drags his fingers up, up, up, presses them to the bead of your clit in a way that makes you squirm, another round of featherlight circles that makes you keen.

“Leon, holy shit—” Your teeth sink into your bottom lip, watching as he sinks his fingers into your cunt, right down to the knuckle.

“Feels good, doesn’t it?”

You don’t have to look at him to hear the shit eating grin in his words.

The pads of his fingers press against ribbed flesh, scissoring you open. When he pulls them back out, palm against your clit, a moan bubbles up past your lips. He shushes you, sweet nothings whispered against the cavern of your throat. 

His hand, glimmering with your arousal, finds its way to your lips. “Open,” He murmurs, and so you do, lips parted for his fingers to press curiously against your tongue. Your heart hammers in your chest, thighs pressing into his sides as you blink up at him. You’re beautiful like this, a picture of pleasure that he wants to sear into his mind, brand across his heart so he won’t forget. 

You moan around his fingers and his heart stutters pitifully in his chest, he needs to hear you like that again. “Want more, sweetheart?” His voice is rough as he pushes his hips against yours teasingly, has your eyes fluttering shut and rolling back. “Need words, baby.”

Leon chuckles as you struggle to speak around his fingers pressing to your tongue, a muffled yeah caught in your throat. He placates your whine that follows with a kiss to the underside of your jaw, lining his hips up with yours as he goes.

He sinks in as deep as he can get, searing hot, like he’s desperate to melt through, skin to skin, atom to atom. You push back, chasing that same euphoric feeling, a groan falling from your lips as you choke around his thick fingers in your mouth. You twist your neck, your nose pushing into his cheek as you seek his warmth.

“Got you,” He mumbles into your skin, voice ragged. A forearm is braced by your head before he pulls his hand from your mouth, moving to hold your body. His hand presses into the gentle curve of your waist like it was made for the palm of his hands. Smearing your spit across your skin as he goes.

When Leon’s with you like this, your body beneath his, he’s so sure this is how it’s meant to be. God, you’re perfect in every sense of the word—surely this is fate’s crashing course, isn’t it? Driven together by some higher power, an invisible thread of gold looped around both your fingers.

Has to be, surely. Feels too good when his hips push into yours, shared moans tumbling from both your lips, when his lips find yours once more and he’s swallowing each one like a man starved. You’ve missed the way he feels, how he stretches you out so deliciously, fills you up and seats deep inside you like he’s made for it. 

Your hands on his shoulders blades dig burning half-moon crests into his skin, dragging your nails down his back, eliciting a low groan from deep within his chest.

“Shit, pussy’s fuckin’ made for me,” He all but groans into your ear, dick pushing in at a steady pace, sickeningly slow in a way that makes you ache.

Please, please, please, your mind screams, begging for him to hurry up, give you more. You’ve waited so long to have him like this again, why should you wait any longer?

Leon’s laugh vibrates against the shell of your ear, “Beggin’ already, sweetheart?”

Oh. You’ve said it out loud.

“Don’t tease,” You plead with him.

“Tease? No m’not teasing, that’d be cruel,” He croons, “M’just taking my time with my baby.”

You want to sob. God, he is cruel. You think this must be karma for all those times you’d teased him when you were younger, worked him so close to the edge then pulled him away—

But then his hips slam against yours and a sob lurches from your throat. “Leon!” You cry, nails digging deeper into his back you worry you might draw blood.

“God, just look at you, sweetheart,” He pulls back enough to meet your gaze, hand on your hip moving to tilt your chin up to meet his gaze. “Crying on my dick. Fuck. ”

His hips are bruising, not an ounce of mercy in the way he ruts into your cunt.

“Can’t,” You whine, tears in your eyes.

He shakes his head, hair falling into his face, obstructing your pretty view, as his hand cups your jaw. “Yeah you can, baby.”

“No, it’s– too much—” You try to get him to understand, you won’t last like this.

He knows before the words even leave your lips. “Aw, pretty baby, gonna come f’me already?” 

More tears spill from your eyes, he kisses them away with gentle lips, almost humorously different from the pace of his hips. “That’s okay,” He decides, “You wanna come now, that’s fine. Jus’ means you gotta keep taking it till I'm done.”

You’re so fucked.

“Can you do that, sweetheart?”

In the haze of your mind you comply.

“Good girl,” You arch your back at the praise, he slips in deeper if that’s even possible. “Good girl, come for me. Let me see you.”

Who are you to deny him?

You come with a soft cry of his name, words sticky with the tightness of your throat, a babbling mess underneath him as he works you through it. He’s not a complete dickhead though, he slows down to accommodate the ache between your legs, gives you a moment to collect yourself as his hand moves to interlock with yours, holding it by your head.

“How was that?” He asks you on the comedown. 

You’re burning bright, you feel like the sun, your heart ablaze in your chest. Your mind is left in a haze, and when it ebbs away, it’s as though sunspots linger in your vision. You look at him, really look at him now, rings of blue in his blown out eyes, hair tousled, lips red and raw. 

You kiss him in lieu of a proper response, tongue and teeth, messy and desperate as your hands hold his face. He groans against your mouth, you feel his dick pulse between your tight walls and you preen internally. Even after all this time you still have him wrapped around your finger.

You giggle at the thought, drowning in the gilding golden haze of the pleasure he’s given you.

“What’s so funny?” He hums, smile sweet on his lips. 

“Nothin’,” You hum, eyes half-lidded.

He grins a little wider, something cunning. “Come again, sweetheart, didn’t quite catch that.” His hips roll into yours, a moan falls past your lips.

“I said– Oh. ” Nevermind.

Another roll of his hips.

“Speak up, baby,” Another, another, another.

You give up trying to get any words out, fruitless attempts reduced to whimpers as you melt into the mattress below him. Your hands wander back over his back, shoulder blades and muscles shifting under your palms as you sooth the ridges that have emerged from where you’d left your stinging mark.

You're tight as sin, sucking him back in salaciously. Leon’s not going to last much longer at all. 

He makes as much known. He whines and you swallow each sound like it’s a sweet prize. His hips snap into yours at a brutal pace, whimpers falling from your lips at each time he drives it home. He has half the mind to pull out, but then your legs are wrapping around his waist, trapping him, keeping him firm in place.

“Sweetheart– fuck , baby–” His words carry the weight of protest but you’re stubborn, always have been.

“ Please Leon?” You’re so sweet, aren’t you? “Want it inside, want you to come in me pretty please–?”

He couldn’t say no to you if he tried. “Shit, that’s what you want, baby? Huh? Need me to fill you up real good?” His voice is low in your ear, a bark that matches his bite.

“ Yes. ”

“Fuck, sweetheart. Yeah, I’ll give you what you need, alright?” He placates, and you’re sweet as you mewl in response. “Yeah, anything you want.”

“M’so close,” He’s brought you to tears again, and this time he lets himself relish in the sight of them dribbling down your cheeks. “So close–”

Leon’s thrusts grow shallow with time, you feel yourself teetering on the edge of ecstasy once more. “Let me feel you, baby,” He mumbles into the skin of your shoulder, his hand gripping yours in a knuckle white grip, the other so tight around your hip it’s sure to leave behind bruises in the morning.

Not a thing you’re saying is comprehensible anymore, slurred words sobbed into the crook of his neck as your cunt does the talking for you. You flutter around his aching length, clamping down around him as the pressure building at the base of your spine snaps in half, a broken cry of his name tumbling from your lips.

Leon reaches his breaking point in quick pursuit, tumbling over that edge just as you do, fucking his release deeper into your cunt. “So sweet, so sweet, so sweet,” He chants, a babbling mess of emotions as you milk him dry. “So good, s’good, baby, fuck. ”

For a few moments, you are nothing but two bodies, twined together, panting and huffing as you catch your breaths. Leon’s hand, still in yours, squeezes reflexively. His face falls into the crook of your neck as his fingers dig further into the flesh of your waist. You hear his breathing grow ragged, his body trembling above you. You think you hear a whine slip past his lips, only solidified when he pulls back and you catch the glassy look in his eyes. 

“We should do this again sometime.” You grin playfully.

“Jesus, Sweetheart.” Leon shakes his head, wet chuckle caught in his throat. “I plan on doing this a lot more often than sometimes. ”

You hum, your knuckles tracing the curve of his cheek before you sweep his hair out of his eyes. “I’d like that.”

There’s a pause then, words hanging in the air. “But at least let me get it right this time. I’ll take you out to dinner, how’s that?”

“Perfect.”

"I meant it, you know." His voice is quieter now, more vulnerable. "About wanting to get it right." He looks at you like he's seeing everything he's been chasing, right in front of him.

You tilt your head, a soft smile playing at your lips. "I know."

Fate is curious, you think—tugging at the golden threads that make up the spider's web of your universe as she pleases, weaving people together and pulling them apart with equal ease. You realise, as you lie with your head on Leon’s chest later that night, that fate has been kind to you. Leon's strong arm envelops you, grounding you in a way only he ever has. Home is inbetween his arms. You listen to the gentle beat of his heart, steady in his chest, pounding beneath your ear. 

Without much thought, you find yourself holding your breath, syncing the thump of your heart with the beat of his, a satisfied smile curving your lips when your breathing finally falls perfectly in time.

likes n reblogs r very much appreciated <3

[chrisrin]

Hey Chris? So my friends and I were geeking out over the Hotguy Zine (personally almost made me cry, poor Impulse) and someone noticed that there were faint images on Smoke Screen's computer screens.

So someone else shifted the image to black and white as well as shifted the contrast so we could see the images and...

Gotta say I was very delighted to see this! < is an avid OP fan

But now I'm wondering why is he reading One Piece and is there any sort of meaning behind the wiki pages he has open (I think I see the wiki pages for Brooke and I think Thriller Bark and Pandaman?) not to mention that the manga panel that is front and center is the "Dreams will never die" scene from the Jaya arc?

Or was it just your brainworms being like "yeah let's put random stuff from my tabs in there to fill in space, it's fiiiine!" sorta thing lol

CONGRATULATIONS!!! YOU ARE THE FIRST ONE TO NOTICE THE ONE PIECE (OR AT LEAST THE FIRST ONE TO NOTICE AND TELL ME ABOUT IT)

if you also look, there is a few one piece references scattered around the comic itself (and impulse's room is. filled with one piece stuff LOOOL)

as funny as it is the idea that these all had intended meanings, i DID just ask the contributor server for random wiki pages to put up there. i finished these pages after taking a 36 day break because i was binging every single chapter of one piece so it infected the chapter as i continued working on it because it's all i was thinking about.

this is the note i left for what i think was the 2nd or 3rd check-in.

so <3 yeah <3 thank you for noticing it, i was wondering if/when someone would eventually point it out! me and all the other one piece fans in the hgcz contributor discord are deeply delighted.

[yandere-daze]

As you may have noticed, I started getting into Resident Evil and the Leon brainworms are strong. I am so down bad for this man so it was inevitable that I would have to write something for him soon.

So here you go, enjoy!

gn reader

tw yandere, obsession, over-protectiveness, delusional mindset, mentions of violence and guns ( because it´s resident evil), staring, delusional mindset

Please do tell me if there is anything else you would like to have tagged!

General Yandere! RE2 Leon Kennedy headcanons

I believe that rather than an authority figure or someone working with the government, Yandere! RE2 Leon would fall in love and grow obsessed with a civilian

He first sees you in Racoon City, an innocent bystander running away with a zombie following behind very closely. You were scared to death and Leon immediately decided to jump into action, not at all hesitating drawing his gun and shooting the zombie until it dropped to the ground and stopped moving

It has always been in his nature to protect other people and so naturally, he just had to help you out.

But there was also a different reason why he had decided to help you. Truthfully, Leon had just been overwhelmed with relief to see another living human being amidst this hell he had been thrown into. All this time he had feared that he might be truly alone in this, but now there´s someone else. Someone that can keep him company in these dire times. Someone he can talk to. Someone he can protect and keep safe

Of course you´re very happy to see Leon after he had basically just saved your life and so, after you´ve both introduced yourself to each other, you agree to tag along with Leon when he offers to take you with him

I mean why wouldn´t you? Going with him would greatly increase your chances of surviving this entire ordeal and not being completely alone just lifts a huge weight off your shoulders

You´re honestly just glad that Leon lets you go with him, it´s not like you´re really of use to him, so you would have understood if he decided that it was too much to deal with

And yet, when he looks at you with a small smile and promises you that he´ll keep you safe no matter what, you have a feeling that you can trust him to keep his promise

And he definitely does! Whenever a zombie appears, Leon tells you to get behind him while he wastes no time shooting them.

He has to admit though, the way you fearfully hide behind him and stick close to him makes him feel a little strange. Why does it feel so good for you to go to him for protection? Why does he like knowing that he´s the one making sure you´re unharmed, the one taking care of you?

Why does he not want to let go when he protectively wraps an arm around your waist?

Yes, the more time passes, the more Leon starts to fall for you. Going through such a traumatic event with someone else by your side probably speeds up the process too.

You´re both the only partner the other one has. And so, Leon starts to get attached to you. The way he feels about you slowly shifts from someone he met under unfortunate circumstances to someone he met because it was meant to be this way. Fate had brought the two of you together.

Why else would you two be the only living people in this place? There was simply no other explanation.

And he had certainly taken notice of the way his heart speeds up when you smile at him every time you thank him for taking care of you.

He wants to take care of you forever. He wants to show you that he could. Better than anyone else.

And so, Leon gets more and more protective, determined to make sure you both get out of this alive so you can start planning your future with each other.

Because of this, he doesn´t like it when you stray too far away from him. Just having you leave him for around a minute makes him want to make a mad dash to go after you, immensely worried that something might happen to you while he´s not there to protect you.

He´s pacing around the room and biting his fingernails when you tell him you just want to check out a room you saw down the hallway real quick. It doesn´t matter that he already killed all the zombies roaming these halls on your way here, what if there´s another one? What if you´re all alone in that dark room and suddenly the door slams closed and a zombie tumbles out of a locker? What if he wouldn´t be able to get to you quickly enough? What if you died because he wasn´t there?

These thoughts keep eating at him and so Leon practically insists on going everywhere with you, he starts getting really clingy all of a sudden, not letting you walk even two steps without him trailing closely behind.

You might have gotten mad about someone acting that way usually but you can´t really bring yourself to blame him, considering the situation you were in.

Still, you found it kind of creepy how his eyes never seemed to leave your form. Whenever you would turn your head to look at Leon, you would catch him already staring at you intensely.

He´d have the shame to blush and apologize for staring at you but he never really stops doing it either. He just can´t help it, you´re so enchanting he has to always have his eyes on you! It´s like he´s drawn to you.

Um, he always has to make sure you´re safe, is what he meant to say there actually! There´s no other motive behind his staring!

But yes, Yandere! RE2 Leon is like a lovesick little puppy that trails after you and practically begs for your praise.

There´s always this creepily bright smile on his face whenever you thank him for doing something for you. It´s like he´s living off of your praises. And he is, truthfully. There´s nothing better to him than hearing your praise, it makes all this work worth it.

It just feels so good to hear you compliment him so sometimes he makes a show out of killing zombies, trying to look as cool as possible in front of you in an attempt to charm you. He wants you to think he´s cool and reliable. He wants you to think that he´s a good partner. That he could be the perfect boyfriend for you.

Because he´s sure that there´s no one out there that cares about you as much as he does. He would do absolutely anything for you. You could use him as much as you like and he would do it all with a smile on his face.

He just wants to show you how much he adores you, how much he loves you! That you two are meant to be together! He´s too shy to say it to you outright but he knows you must also feel the same way about him. You must! Because you´re soulmates and now that he finally met you, Leon is not willing to let go of you again.

It´s unlikely he would ever lock you up or kidnap you but he desperately wants to be a part of your life.

So please just say you love him back! Tell him you´ll never let him go and Leon will worship you every single day for the rest of his life.

[stanpinesdykewife]

hii! could I request stan/gender neutral reader fluff? maybe something along the lines of what mornings look like together? the direction you take it is absolutely up to you, thanks again YOU’RE AMAZINGGG <3

i got carried away can u tell stan's my favorite. I'M CRAZY!!! i'm crazy. also THANK YOU so much your request is amazing it gave me brainworms!!!!!! under the cut:

mornings together stan/reader (gender neutral) pre/during/post-canon/unspecified fluff, 825 words

“Stan,” you say, nudging his shoulder. He grumbles in his sleep, rolling away from you so you're facing his back. You laugh openly, leaning further over the bed to nudge him again. Your other hand is adjusting your work pants, tugging it up and trying unsuccessfully to do your belt buckle. “Stan, wake up. You're giving me a ride to work, remember?”

“No gas,” he mumbles, pulling his arm away from you. When you poke him again, he raises a hand to wave you away. “Quit it.”

“Stanley.” Your belt is left undone as you shove him with both hands, and finally he rolls over to shoot you a glare. You just grin at him, and his face softens, just a little bit. “You're giving me a ride to work.”

“What genius came up with that idea?” he mutters, but props himself up onto his elbows with a groan. Stan rubs his eyes, some crust clinging to his lashes. His hair is all mussed up and his tank is crooked, one arm hole digging into his armpit and the other coming dangerously close to flashing a nipple. There's some dried drool on his face, from the corner of his mouth to the side of his jaw, and when he stretches his arms over his head, a series of concerning pops and cracks emit from his spine. One thing's for sure: if this were a cartoon, you'd have heart eyes.

“You did, you dork,” you say, the affection painfully clear in your voice. Stan picks the crust out of the corner of his eye and then looks at you, his brows furrowed still. He isn't glaring at you anymore—just needs his glasses. Before you can turn to look for them, he grunts and beckons you closer.

“C'mere. Gimme a kiss,” he grumbles, and you plant both hands on the bed to kiss Stan's cheek. A smile threatens his lips, but he keeps up the grumpy old man act: “What are you, Puritan?”

“I'm not kissing you until you brush your teeth,” you say matter-of-factly. Then, just to make fun, “I dunno where your mouth has been.” Stan quickly switches gears.

“You know where my mouth has been,” he says, the sleaze, and you laugh as a flush crawls up your face. Stan beams at you then, a charming, sleepy grin that makes you giddy. “Say I drive you to work. What's in it for me?”

“Here we go,” you say, rolling your eyes. Your smile cancels out any sass. “You've been awake for less than a minute and you're already hitting on me. You're a real perv, you know that?”

“Oh yeah, baby, love it when you talk dirty,” Stan says, and suddenly tugs at your wrist so you topple over. You faceplant right into his chest, and before you can react, Stan wraps his arms around you and heaves you onto him with little effort. You're laughing the whole way, eventually managing to shove your foot between the mattress and bedframe so you can push yourself up.

“Stan!” you protest, even as you grin into his shirt. Stan manhandles you so you're right on top of him, like a lizard on a log, and he holds you tight to his body with brawny arms.

“Alright. Back to bed. Goodnight,” he says promptly, tucking your head under his chin. He manages to fake one long, loud snore before you start squirming away from him. It's an impossible feat. His grip barely loosens. “Hey, what gives?”

“You're wrinkling my work shirt,” you say, and then squeal when Stan rucks up the back of your shirt like he's going to pull it off.

“Why do you need a shirt, anyway?” he snickers, and you manage to reach behind you to slap his hand away. Stan laughs and finally lets go of you. “Alright, alright!” You push yourself up, hovering over his face. You try to look mad, but you're still smiling.

“Stop fooling around,” you scold him lightly. You know for a fact Stan won't take you seriously, so your heart isn't in it. Still, you bargain, “If I give you a kiss, will you get up?”

“A trade, huh?” Stan doesn't even pretend to think. He tilts his head up at you, smug. “I'll take it.”

“Yeah, you will.” You close your eyes and lean down slightly. When you peek, Stan's closed his eyes, too, readying himself for a kiss. You shift your weight and smack his face lightly, very lightly, then roll straight out of bed and stand up. When Stan sputters, blinking his eyes open to look at you, you laugh in his face. “I'll kiss you when you brush your teeth! You really thought th—Oh, nope, you're getting up now, okay, meet you in the bathroom!”

You dash away, your undone belt buckle slapping against your thigh, your pants falling from your hips a few inches. Stan’s loud laughter follows you down the hall.

notes: HELLO please tell me what you think. (business suit and coffee mug and conference table spawns in) let's talk about him. pookie bear

[bendycxmet]

Under Your Spell—Vash the Stampede

Summary: You are a top supporter of a trending camboy. What you don't know, is that that camboy is your friend and roommate, Vash.

Word Count: ~3.3k

Pairing: gn!reader x camboy!Vash the Stampede

Content: sexual content, nsfw, 18+ MDNI!, masturbation, edging, voyeurism, whiny vash, teasing reader

a/n: got the brainworms for camboy vash from @biancalattei and @awkwardchick87. my only solution was to put pen to paper.

|masterlist|

sharing an apartment with vash was a blessing. rent prices in the city drove you two to ultimately decide to room with each other. besides, you had known each other for years and decided that living with each other would be a breeze granted how well you two got along. 

you and vash had retired to your rooms for the night for quite some time now. its almost like routine. you claimed you wanted to rot in bed, watching your shows for a couple of hours before work the next day, leaving your spot beside him on the couch an hour before he resided to his room way down the hall for the night.

yes, the two of you were impossibly close, practically stuck at the hip now, but how could you ever tell him that you needed to go get off to your favorite camboy? that's a secret that will be carried to the grave. 

something about this camboy separated him easily from the rest. he had enough charm and personality that watching his streams never made you feel guilt or shame. the easygoing smile that graced his face like he actually enjoyed interacting with his fans, comments that would stream in faster than your eyes could catch, and his deep, rumbling laugh that almost acted as foreplay itself. it always felt like talking to a close friend. until he of course whipped it out. 

he was blessed with a gift, is all you could say. he was the perfect size all around, his cock long enough to only give pleasure without causing pain for your insides but thick enough that you can feel him fill you up. well, at least that's how you envisioned it in your fantasies. he was a pretty pink, the tapered tip a delightful rosy red. the wispy blond happy trail that led down to him was neatly kept. you imagined how it felt to touch him there before pleasuring him, feeling the soft, fine hairs between your fingers. 

his body was nothing but lean muscle, a full chest connected to hard, outlined abs, flexed arms and toned, thick thighs always clenching as he neared his climaxes. you never saw his face. or hands, hands that were covered with ruby leather gloves. for whatever reason that may be. you also were 100% certain that he wore some type of wig, a smart move you would say. maybe he had unique hair to match the rarity of the beautiful person he was. he also always sported a bunny mask that obscured his whole face, only leaving his lips for the audience’s viewing pleasure, which only fueled your fantasies more, his lips always pulled into a smirk or cute smile, sharp teeth on display, teeth meant to dig into your flesh- 

ok, you were getting sidetracked. you quickly tapped into your phone to play some music through your speaker, faking that you were occupied with something else that was not watching a man touch himself on camera for thousands to see. you plug your headphones into your computer and click on the hidden bookmark saved to immediately take you to his stream. 

please wait for the stream to begin.

read the loading screen. the chat was up and alive, discussing what he could possibly be doing for the night. you adjusted yourself on your bed, towel beneath you, toys to your left. you waited with bated breath, ready to hear his deep voice come through your headphones. 

“hello hello!  how are we all doing tonight? hope your week went well, my lovelies. but not too well. not without me, i hope.” you giggle, blushing slightly as you watch his sweatpant clad form come into frame, adjusting himself in his chair. you could never see anything past him, his room obscured in total darkness. you wish you could though, just to know what he was like. oh well, all that mattered was him. 

it was obvious that he had nothing on underneath his sweatpants, the hard outline of himself evident through the thin gray material. he was leaning casually back in his chair, leaning his head to the side onto his raised fist, chatting with his fans for a couple of minutes. it was obvious that everyone was getting antsy to see him pleasure himself. you shoot a quick comment into the void. 

his eyes light up instantly.

“hi bonbon721! good to see you’re here. as always.” he adds with a sly wink. you cover your face with your hands. he always says hello to you, but it never fails to fluster you. of course, you were one of his first fans, loyal and supportive even six months later. you had an eye for budding talent. more comments come in, greeting you. other fans also knew of you, mostly since you always commented witty remarks. your comment quickly begins to accrue upvotes. he laughs heartily.

“see what you started bonbon? ok, fine. let’s get started. can’t fault a guy for wanting to get to know you before taking you to dinner.” he quickly drags his pants down, his cock jumping out immediately to slap against his toned stomach. he draws in a quick inhale, the cold air hitting his sensitive length. 

always ready for us, huh big boy? 

his eyes catch onto your comment, a flush spreading throughout his body, a dribble of precum leaking from him. he averts his eyes for a split second, glad his mask obscures his embarrassed expression. although, nothing escapes your attention to detail. oh, had you pulled that reaction from him? the thought twists the coil in your stomach tighter, squeezing your legs together to quell the ache between them. 

he spreads his legs further on the chair, leather-clad fingers coming down to grasp himself. a shuddering sigh leaves him, head thrown back. 

“what would you like me to do today, chat?”

>obviously touch yourself.

>do u have a flshlght

>edge yourself until bonbon tells you to cum.

>ooo

>agree ^

>yesss

you choke on your spit, sending yourself into a coughing fit. what? huh?! had the chat been scheming before you clicked in for the night?

wait, why me???

>because you’re the top supporter silly. it’s the stream’s 6th month anniversary too. lets celebrate

>and besides, our boy here has you as his favorite~

before you can type your rejection of their logic, wanting everyone in the chat to receive the same love as you do, a dark chuckle interjects.

“well, we gotta give what the people want bonbon. what do you say? play around with me?” your fingers shake as they hover over the keyboard. you take a deep breath in an attempt to calm yourself, before clicking the keys.

you better hold out until i say so then.

you are so thankful that there is a screen separating the two of you, coming off as a bold and confident fan rather than the flustered, meek supporter that you actually are. 

a shaky laugh rings out into your headphones, the abrupt tightening of leather on skin hinting that he enjoyed that comment. well, enjoyed being bossed around, you had gathered from all the streams you have joined in on.

now fuck your fist like you mean it.

his hand comes up to the tip, circling it in tight circles, gathering the precum dribbling from the slit to ease the glide of the leather glove against his shaft. he twists his hand on the upstroke, wrist bending back and forth as he stroked himself. his free hand flew out to grab onto the desk on a particularly good twist of his dick, teeth digging into his bottom lip, preventing his moans from slipping out. a withering whine slips out however, thrashing his head to the side as if he could escape the euphoria thrumming through him, licking up his spine. the dings of the chat bring him somewhat back to reality.

open your eyes, pretty. remember your promise. not until i say so.

stop biting your lip and let us hear you. and keep your eyes on me. 

you type out your demands, adding one hand back in your pants. you’re already halfway there, seeing as this camboy always gets you hot and bothered just with his appearance. the chat has gone silent out of respect of you commanding him, the only thing notifying him that he and bonbon aren’t alone is the reactions floating in quick succession at the top of the comments tab. the instant he lets go of his lip, a stuttering moan comes flying out his mouth.

“‘s so good bonbon. please, let me cum. ‘m almost there.” if you could see his face, you would be able to see the blush covering it. for now, all you can see is the flush covering his chest and ears. oh. you can tell he feels good. 

got a couple more things i need you to do. cup yourself.

he lets go of the desk to grab his balls, hissing in despair at the onslaught of pleasure that shoots through his body. he arches his back, strengthening the hold he has on himself down there, bating his release. he whines loudly, hand releasing himself to quickly cover his mouth with his arm.

what did i say?

“i know i know im sorry. i just have…neighbors… that i dont want to disturb.” his eyes flit to his bedroom door, checking to see if you turned on the hallway light to check on him for that outburst. nothing. he breathes a sigh of relief. you must be asleep. or the walls are actually thick here. he sends a silent thank you to the construction people who built this building. 

dont want them knowing how good you feel? i certainly wouldn't mind hearing how good my hot neighbor is feeling tonight. maybe they’re doing the same thing as you right now. who wouldn’t?

you blush at that thought, imagining vash touching himself. damn the bathroom for separating your rooms. what you would give to hear that.

vash was in the same headspace, sharing similar thoughts. he moaned, imagining you touching yourself to his groans and whimpers. no way. you definitely didn't see him in that light. the movie binging you two indulged in every night could only last so long, you claiming you wanted some time to destress before bed, always leaving for bed before him. he relished whenever you two would touch knees, or when you would lean into his side, getting comfortable for the two-hour movie. recalling how you smelt of your body wash and detergent earlier tonight only serves to make his cock throb harder.

increase the pace.

dont have to tell him twice. he goes back into his rhythm, one hand down below, the other moving up and down his length, the rosy tip turning redder, implying his imminent release. gasps and groans ring out. his thighs shake with each upstroke, tears appearing on his waterline. he tries to blink them back, not wanting the chat, especially, bonbon, to see how easily worked up he is. he heeds your commands from earlier, keeping his eyes forward.

stop

you giggle mischievouly, happy to be in control of such a beautiful man, one that follows every whim you can think of. the whine he lets out is comical, the tears trailing down his cheeks, appearing underneath his mask, hanging off his jawline. 

“noooo please have mercy! i don’t know how longer i can hold out for.”

tell us the story of how you tripped on your apartment steps again.

“seriously?? i can’t even think straight bonbon. all i can remember is a friend of mine nearly collapsing on the floor, laughing when they saw how pouty i was when i came to them for help.”

he never mentioned that detail before. funny, you had been in a similar scenario with vash a couple months ago. if you weren’t so horny in the moment, your confusion could have been a revelation.. 

ok, i kid. chat, is it time?

>god yes 

>i dont think i can hold out much longer either

>he looks so hot already

he waits in anticipation, entire body quaking in his chair. his eyes are fixated on the comments section, waiting for your command. 

come, my good boy.

a moan that can only be described as pornographic rips from his chest, his leathered hand stroking himself with a vigor you have yet to see so far in his streaming career. a shudder rips through you, your hand flying to your toy to put it to work. you wanted to be right there with him when he came. 

he begins to blabber, hinting at his cresting release. “ohh my godd so good baby. so go-” his voice hitches, ending an octave higher. you see his eyes squeeze shut through the slits in the mask, jaw dropping open. his body seizes completely, a rumbling groan echoing into his room as he shoots ropes of cum all over his red gloves, his thighs, and his stomach. he whines as he continues to squeeze out the last remnants of his orgasm, lip quivering over gritted teeth. 

it’s almost as if you're there with him, your toy quickly buzzing your release to life, collapsing backward onto your bed, eyes rolling back into your head. you could've sworn that groan rang out closer to you than just in your ears…

you feel the towel beneath you become moist, the cool sensation pulling you back to your dimly lit room. you feel slow, ears ringing from your release, and begrudgingly pull yourself up. it feels as if you’re swimming underwater, floating. the light creeps back into your vision, eyes blinking until it clears enough for you to see the computer screen again.

holy. shit. your eyes widen, hands coming up to cover your mouth. vash is laying back in his chair, still recovering from his release. white is streaked across his thighs, droplets of his release streaming down the thick muscle while pools of his cum stay gathered in the valleys between his defined stomach. he’s panting loudly, small groans interspacing each exhale. you look down at yourself, realizing that you too have made a mess rivaling his own.

>yall seeing this????

>that has to be the most he’s cum in a looong time. maybe ever.

>new kinks discovered?? 

vash lolls his head back forward, reading the flurry of teasing statements. post-nut clarity hits him full force, and he laughs loudly out of shock and overall astonishment. “you might be right chat. i haven’t felt like that since i was a hormonal teenager. bonbon–you did something to me.”

you scream behind your hands after quickly typing your response.

you did so good for me. for us. thank you

now go shower. you’re gonna be sticky soon enough

he sighs, feeling the ecstasy leak from his body. tonight turned out better than he could of ever hoped. “yeah yeah i know. ok everyone. wow. 20 minutes flew by huh? for me it did at least. but have a good night everyone. happy anniversary! lets chat again next week. love and peace!”

>love and peaceeee

>good night king

>sleep tight my cumlord~

he gets up from his chair, pulling his sweatpants back on. you rub your hands on your face. maybe you'll shower too. usually you didn't make such a mess of yourself, but tonight was definitely an exception. you’re about to close out of the tab when you see he is still streaming. he doesn’t seem to realize though, perhaps still feeling the effects from his orgasm. you watch as he takes his gloves off, teeth pulling at the red material. you lean forward, happy to see a new part of himself. you still. 

right as he pulls his right hand from his glove, a glint of silver catches your eye. a ring with engraved flowers sits on his ring finger. a ring…you had given him for his birthday this year. 

he glances up, and jumps slightly. “whoops, missed the end call button. alright, night for real guys.” he waves, before the screen goes black.

you sit there in silence, the desk lamp in the corner the only thing illuminating your dark space. you shake your head. maybe it’s a coincidence. it's not like that ring is the only one to exist in its style. even though you found it at your local farmers market. from a local seller. you decide a shower is desperately needed. as you exit your room, you head for the bathroom next door, tip-toeing as to not wake vash-

vash who steps out from his room right as you reach the bathroom. you shriek. he shrieks. 

“what are you doing up?! i thought you went to bed an hour ago?!” he questions you. you see he makes a move to cover himself, but not before you catch onto several things that are lit from the LEDs in his room. 

he’s shirtless. wearing only gray sweatpants. your ring sits on his right hand, the hand that's moving desperately to clean cum from his stomach. your eyes then catch onto the bunny mask that’s sitting on his bed behind him.

you start screaming. he starts screaming. “WHAT WHAT IS SOMETHING BEHIND ME?!” he whips around, putting himself between you and the potential threat. 

“YOU CANT BE HIM NONONO-”

he turns back around and grabs your shoulders. “hey, slow down. what are you talking about?”

“im bonbon721… from your streams-” your eyes are tightly shut but you dare a peek at him. he’s as white as a sheet. or as his cum from earlier.

“i. um. dont knoww. what you’re talking about-” he stutters.

“oh don’t bullshit me vash. i see the mask behind you. i know you cam. and you’re damn good at it too. no wonder you have thousands of subscribers.”

you can feel the heat radiating off of him. he swallows, and drops his hands from your shoulders, down to your hands. “you don't think…it’s gross?”

vash had kept this secret to himself. he really liked you but was afraid you would see him differently for jerking himself off in front of a camera for strangers. you had always shared secrets with each other since you were young, but this was one he hesitated to share.

“what? of course not. i respect the hustle. plus-” you hesitate. if you were to finish your sentence, it would change your relationship with vash. but you see the pleading look in his eyes, and realize how much of a fool you were for him. you already came this far, especially when you admitted you were bonbon, his top supporter. “-it’s kinda hot,” you finish with a whisper.

he’s relieved, all his previous worries off his shoulders. his shoulders sag, and he leans down onto your shoulder. goosebumps break out on your skin from his proximity. he smells like sex and sweat.

“you did a good job. i wasnt lying when i said i’ve never cum like that before in over a decade.” he releases your hands, wrapping his arms around you and bringing you closer. you relax into his touch, massaging the muscles of his back. “wanna know something?” he whispers in your ear. you can only hum. “in all my streams, i always think of you when i touch myself.” he gives your ear a lick as he pushes into you slightly, making you feel how hard he is. again. 

you cry out at his confession, pushing his chest back to look at him at arms length. he’s completely smug, head tilted, smirk kept back by the sharp canines digging into his bottom lip. he looks at you from top to bottom, seeing the light sheen on your legs. 

“i liked being bossed around, more now knowing it was you doing it. mind if we do it again?”

you feel hot. who would dare refuse an offer like that? 

“why not? but let's take a shower. it’ll save us some time, especially once i’m done with you.” you push him backward, kicking the bathroom door shut behind you.

a/n: you have been subjected to me having too much fun with a fic. i got in a silly goofy mood while slutting this man out. thank you everyone! teehee xoxo

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Part 2!

[talia-black]

Nameless! Aventurine Headcanons

I have a million other projects I need to be working on, but this tiny brainworm hasn’t let me go.  :(

TW: Talk of Aventurine’s backstory. Nothing explicit, but his brand is shown and stuff is alluded to. Symptoms of trauma are also explicitly mentioned. Also shirtless Aventurine but nothing sexual. 

Nameless! Aventurine who succeeded in bargaining his freedom from the IPC and became a wanderer. Who always wears a shirt with a high collar to hide his slave tag. Who melted down his sixty tanba and had them made into various accessories for his otherwise nondescript outfit. Who pulled scams and took risks whenever the mood struck him and then skipping out whenever things got dicey for him. Until he runs into the Astral Express.

Nameless! Aventurine who had heard of the Express in passing, and needing a quick passage off-world, offers his help with whatever trouble they’ve managed to get themselves into in return for a ride. Only to be thrown completely out of his element by the attitude of each of its members. None of them are interested in what he can offer them (though it takes him a while to figure that out) and are more than willing to still let him join the Express even when his plan doesn’t pan out the way Aventurine promised. 

Nameless! Aventurine who actually ends up fitting very well into the Astral Express’ dynamic. He is always happy to indulge in March 7th’s antics (You cannot tell me these two wouldn’t have spa days where they do facials, paint each other's nails, and just talk for hours about Robin’s latest album or whatever else is a hot topic for Honkai Star Rail’s version of the internet.) and treats her like a little sister. 

March 7th is also the first to figure out Nameless! Aventurine’s aversion to being touched. He frequently initiates contact, but the first time March came up behind him and touched his arm, the gambler jumped almost a foot in the air. He laughed it off, telling her that she “give a man some warning next time” and pushed the conversation forward. She chalked it up to him being caught off-guard, but then she watched him freeze up when Himeko put a hand on his back, and when Welt patted his shoulder, and whenever March touched him first. 

Nameless! Aventurine who acts like the annoying middle child always pestering the older brother because he secretly admires him. Dan Heng doesn’t warm up to Aventurine nearly as quickly, and is often annoyed when he just waltzes into the room containing the data bank, plops himself in a chair, and talks at him for hours. The first time Dan Heng responded to something he said was actually what got Aventurine to be quiet. Dan Heng turned away from what he was working on to see Aventurine with his mouth slightly agape, not expecting him to actually answer. Dan Heng found it incredibly interesting how the normally smooth talker stumbled over his words for almost a minute before picking up where he had left off. 

Dang Heng is the first to notice how Nameless! Aventurine is always throwing himself in the firing range. Even when there’s absolutely no reason to or nothing to gain from making such a sacrifice. He subtly watched how in every conversation that even verges into dangerous territory, Aventurine pulls all of the attention onto himself with either a comment aimed to provoke, or acting in a way that drastically escalates things. Aventurine had told the Crew about his “luck”, and these instances had certainly liquidated any of Dan Heng’s doubts about that. But if his victory was always certain, why did he smile when he got shot? 

Nameless! Aventurine who Himeko treats like the rest of her kids right out of the gate. Aventurine is the most suspicious of Himeko out of all the Express Crew, but that doesn’t last long. They bond over their love of black coffee and as the two of the only three night owls on the Express (Dan Heng is also one, but he never leaves his room). While he would never say Himeko reminded him of his mother, she gave her own forms of paternal love freely in the way she always made sure he ate at least two meals a day, immediately patched up his various scrapes and scratches herself when he first got on the Express, and offered him his own room without hesitation. He would go to his grave with the knowledge that he had felt his face heat up when she had ruffled his hair after he beat her at chess during one of their 2am coffee drinking sessions. 

Himeko was the first to see Nameless! Aventurine’s hands were in terrible condition. When she checked him over for wounds, she noticed how he was always fidgeting with a coin. Later it would change to a beaten up poker chip, or his bracelet, or whatever odd thing he had picked up. And when she was bandaging his arm, his hands shook with constant tremors. When he was outside the Express, he always stuffed his hands in his pockets, and Himeko frowned late one evening when she saw Aventurine palm’s had scars from where his own nails had dug into them. 

Nameless! Aventurine who loves messing with Welt. Honestly, Aventurine gets along with Welt just as well, if not better than March. Welt is never without something interesting or insightful to say, and combined with Aventurine’s observant and commentative nature, they sometimes end up talking for hours without even realizing time has passed. However, Aventurine cannot live without a little mischief. And Welt’s naivety when it comes to current trends is just too good of an opportunity to pass up. This often manifests in Welt using slang terms in ways they absolutely were not meant to be, and a few interesting videos that have made their way onto the Express’ group chat. Welt has mostly caught on, but he still plays along if only to see the way Aventurine’s eyes light up whenever he successfully “tricks” him. The “kiddo” had gotten more laughs out of the old man than all of the members of the Express combined. 

Welt was the first to notice and tell the others that Nameless! Aventurine was exhibiting signs of severe trauma. During a pit stop, Welt asked Aventurine to go ask around for a certain brand of coffee beans for Himeko before calling the others for a meeting. After sharing what they knew, the group struggled to decide on a course of action. Aventurine was more than entitled to his past, and it would go against everything they stood for to pry for potentially painful details. But it also seemed wrong to let him continue potentially harmful habits without intervention. In the end, they decided to wait until they crossed paths with a specialist who they could ask for advice before taking any particular course of action. 

Nameless! Aventurine who kept making excuses for why he couldn’t get off the Express. He didn’t realize that no one had ever asked him to.

Nameless! Aventurine who upon waking one day to see his name emblazoned on the door of his room refused to come out for an entire day. The rest of the Crew didn’t even know it had happened, and Pom-Pom swore they hadn’t done it. Meanwhile, Aventurine spent most of the morning crying silently into his pillow and the rest of the day deep in the trenches of an existential crisis. He comes out the next day and acts like nothing ever happened, and the new status quo was set in stone. 

Nameless! Aventurine who was with March and Dan Heng when they found the Trailblazer. And immediately became fascinated with them. Especially after they threw themselves in front of March when the Doomsday Beast attacked the space station. He surprised himself with how upset he felt when he saw the Trailblazer was considering staying at Herta’s Space Station as opposed to coming with them. And how happy he was when they ultimately decided to join the Express. 

Nameless! Aventurine and the Trailblazer who get on like a house on fire. Aventurine is persistent and victorious in getting the Trailblazer comfortable with them, and often ends up in a game of tug-a-war with March for their attention. Trailblazer, who at first glance seems like a pretty stoic character, turns out to be quite unhinged, and Aventurine’s lack of self-restraint only enables them once they set foot on Belobog. Aventurine was a man who clung to unpredictability and the mystery of the dice like a starving animal, and the Trailblazer was impulsivity personified. From their out-of-pocket comments at the most inappropriate of moments to their dumpster-diving habits, Aventurine never knew what to expect from them. 

Trailblazer who is the first to discover the truth of Nameless! Aventurine’s past. It wasn’t anything grand; the two had gone out with March and Himeko for a drink and ended up collapsing in the same bed. Trailblazer woke first with an awful headache, a dry mouth, and dots doing pirouettes across their vision. Which is why they thought they were just imagining the brand on Aventurine’s neck. The high-collar shirt that he always wore had been chucked off at some point during the night. Aventurine stirred when a gentle touch carefully traced irritated, scarred skin. 

“You should really be applying some kind of salve to that.”

Reality cut through Aventurine’s hangover faster than a bucket of ice. He leapt out of bed and locked himself in the bathroom. He refused all of the Trailblazer’s attempts to get him to respond, and it was only after they promised they would give him some space and that they wouldn’t tell the others that his heart rate was able to go down. It still took him an hour before he left the bathroom. From there he avoided the Trailblazer like the plague. When the other members of the Crew asked what had happened, the Trailblazer explained it away as “drunken shenanigans” and let the subtext run its course. If only to give Aventurine some initiative to speak to them. This standoff lasted weeks, and probably would have gone on much longer if Aventurine hadn’t taken a dagger to the gut and a crossbow bolt to the knee. And the Trailblazer, out of the generosity of their heart, offered to personally make sure he made a full recovery. And many painful nights later, with the help of a few glasses of whiskey, Aventurine shared a few pieces of his past. He still had enough clarity of mind to keep the less palatable details out of it, but gave more than enough for the Trailblazer to understand what he had been through. Somehow, the bottle was emptied, and the two once again found themselves cuddled up in Aventurine’s bed and drifting off into peaceful slumber. 

Nameless! Aventurine who found a new family, and would continue to protect them with everything he had as he continued his journey starward. 

[torchickentacos]

Im here for your opinions on roundworms and parasites.

THANK YOU! Your enabling is always appreciated (and I think I have a pokemon ask from you that I lost in my drafts like six months ago????? I'll go find that later!) Here are some of my parasite opinions. Under the read-more because, re: last post's tags, this is not what most of you guys signed up for 😭

My main opinion- worms are, by far, the most interesting type of parasite, even amongst other endoparasites. Exoparasites are largely boring. Sorry to any tick or leech enthusiasts out there. Amoebas (and other protozoan parasites) are just okay. They were more interesting in season 2 of House MD than they are in real life, imo.

Guinea worms (draculculiasis) are maybe the most disgusting type of endoparasite, but thankfully they're incredibly rare. I'll keep it not-revolting but the removal process is disgusting, and not much gets to me but that does. When I was in vetmed classes back in like 2018-2020, I was the person who wanted front-row seats to literally everything, and despite that, guinea worms make me viscerally uncomfortable... but very fascinated. Heartworms are pretty high up there, too, and roundworms do get an honorary mention.

Not really an opinion but I need to know what kind of worm RFK JR has. I have been so darkly fascinated by this for months on end. It's PROBABLY neurocysticercosis, but what if it's something more interesting???? I have never wanted to see the full medical work-up of a politician more badly. I periodically check to see if there's any updates in the brainworm department. ALSO, it didn't actually eat his brain. I'm not a parasitologist but I'm like 95% sure that any worms that would have a presence in the brain would not actively feed on any organic tissue in that sense. It's probably a cyst caused by a calcified tapeworm larvae that damaged surrounding brain tissue. There was probably no actual ingestion of brain tissue despite claims and headlines. BUT IF THERE WAS, I WANT TO KNOW ABOUT IT. But nobody has a concrete answer.

If we want to talk about non-human parasites, then horsehair worms are a fun starting point! They infect insects and cause the insect to seek out water and drown themselves, and then the worm escapes in the water as part of the worm's life cycle. If you've got a strong stomach, go look it up on youtube. It's vile but SO interesting. The Green-banded broodsac is also a lovely little freak. It invades snail's eye stalks and pulses bright, strange colors to attract birds. The bird eats the snail (and the worm) and the worm uses the bird's droppings to scatter its eggs. It's some real freak of nature type shit and I love it.

Also not really an opinion, but I learned very quickly as a child that telling the other kids fun worm facts is not a great way to make friends, but on tumblr it works just fine!

[coffeesleep-ooc]

Binghe nicknames

Today im reflecting in LBH’s nicknames, like, SQQ’s nicknames for him, fandom nicknames for him and SQH’s nicknames for him

why you ask? Because my brain is full of sv brainworms, that’s all

Now, this may have some inconsistencies bc it’s what I believe and im by no means chinese…let’s start with the most common ones to name a small Binghe

We have things like bingbing, binghe, white lotus, little sheep and bunhe. The first two look fairly straightforward no? From what ive seen, in chinese using a character of a person’s name repeatedly like this denotes a cutesy way of calling them, and calling someone by their name alone (as long as it has enough characters for that) is a sign of being close. LBH obviously loves SQQ calling him Binghe, nobody else gets that privilege! Even NYY calls him A-Luo and not Binghe, even though that is another way to denote closeness, I don’t believe its the same for him!

let’s go with bunhe, this is (as far as i know, do correct me if im wrong) a fandom’s name for the lil guy, im guessing it came from the english part of the fandom since its a play on his name and in chinese the term for bun would be bao/baozi(?) depending on the type of bun so it wouldn’t be as cute to call him baohe(?) sounds like another person entirely lol

but! Bun makes you think of a round white and soft ball, safe and sweet, unless you are of course, not chinese like me and at first you thought of a golden brownish ball of hot bread, which would work anyways bc freshly made bread it’s delicious and soft. Anyways, i kinda prefer the chinese imagery of bun for this dumb reason ill present to you: Bunhe is a soft round baby, you can nom his cheeks and squeeze him and call him only to see him following cutely! Its the best! But also, when you break the surface you reveal there’s a spicy filling that will leave your mouth stinging and your stomach warm and content, the problem is though, that your white little bao is now in pieces and you can’t reconstruct it, the white surface has been stained with the spicy red from hell and the bitterness of betrayal…but the sweet exterior is still there and it has shifted to become a delicious dish filled with the flavor of home.

am i getting too lost?

lets go back to nicknames! SY gives him the nicknames of little white lotus and little sheep. The second one is pretty self-explanatory, LBH follows him around everywhere like sheep tend to do (also, this is why little duckling also works) but! The consensus in the fandom is that he has curly hair right? Well, imagine a little boy with fluffy hair following you around and trying to help you with everything? It’s impossible not to want to pat his head and squeeze him, so little sheep it is.

now, i’ve seen that sv fandom uses white lotus a lot! SY himself uses it if I remember correctly, but i feel like sometimes we forget where it truly comes from and what SQQ is saying when he calls LBH that, its true that LBH is like a flower, whilting or flourishing on command like SQQ is his sun, his earth and his water. But from other novels i’ve read, I’ve realized that calling someone a white lotus is not necessarily a compliment! In chinese slang a white lotus is someone that looks pure and kind, respectful and pretty, just like the lotus flower peacefully and beautifully resting on a pond, but it also tells us that such a person has a hidden agenda, a hidden side to their personality just like the lotus has roots in the dirt, underwater where we can’t see, its growing and taking advantage of the nutrients of the deepest parts of the earth, so it’s someone “muddy” and “dirty” that presents themselves kind, pure and innocent!

Which means- that SQQ is calling LBH this to remind himself that even though this cute lil boy is obedient and sweet now, he will (in SQQ’s mind at least) torture him and show his true colors later on the road, after he has been utterly betrayed. I quite like this nickname because of how innocent it looks at first, and how sweetly SQQ is usually portrayed while calling LBH this, but he actually knows deep down that he is possibly playing with fire, and even so, he chooses to care and to ahow love to LBH -sobs-

LBH post canon ends up with a lot of trauma, attachment issues and insecurities, and SQQ calling him white lotus shows that he knew about LBH’s bad sides since the beginning. BUT. He. Doesn’t. Communicate. That!!!!! This dumbass!!!! (Affectionate)

Now, there’s also the nicknames SQQ-SQH use to differentiate the Binghes, and i find it incredibly funny too. There’s Bingge (Bing from his name and Ge from older brother), not only called older brother bc he is the original, but also because he is ruthless and cool beyond expectations (we see in the extras, that he is very intelligent and cunning, but equally as shizun starved smhw) he is strong and much more serious and bitter than his counterpart, not to mention the sheer number of women he has (which, as stallion power fantasy, would make him “more manly” but that’s another topic), so, older brother it is!

Sv LBH is usually called Binghe or even ‘my son’ by SQH, which i find hilarious bc SQQ hates it, he doesn’t want to acknowledge SQH as LBH’s father even if he is the creator. This is obviously a running joke but it makea me think of SQQ then accusing SQH of also marrying his own son (MBJ) which would be extremely funny and SQH would be mortified.

anyways, LBH is also calles Bingmei (Bing for his name and mei for little sister) and this is where it gets interesting, because they clearly could have chosen didi (little brother) but didn’t! And this reinforces the comedic role of LBH, he isn’t just a gay protagonist, he is a gay protagonist that - following the advise of his (unknown) creator/shishu - acts like a total maiden throwing a massive tantrum to get SQQ’s attention, he cries like a little girl, he tugs on SQQ’s sleeve with big watery eyes and becomes his housewife. Not only that, but his insecurities are exaggerated by his acting and it gives the impression of him having a massive maiden heart that will die dramatically if her husband doesn’t pay attention to her 25/7 (no, the 5 is not a typo), and it’s true that he has a maiden heart, but he can live without the 25/7 attention, he is just that dramatic. And obviously lets not forget about the picture of a previously ruthless stallion protagonist in the transmigrators’ minds actually turning into this kind of person that acts frail and cute for his husband, it’s just too much for them, and so, he gets called little sister, like a spoiled younger sister, the apple of her parent’s eye. Honestly when i first read that nickname I couldn’t stop laughing for a long while.

finally im going to babble about LBH’s nicknames for himself, we have, this disciple and this husband which are very contradictory but funny when used together. This disciple is not a special title or anything, because for LBH, he is *not* someone that should be special in any way, he just wants to be special to SQQ, who he adores and admires and wants to always protect. Many ppl call themselves ‘this disciple’ to address SQQ, its a way to denote their status and their willingness to be taught by him, to have a familial relationship outside of blood. Now, this is important to LBH bc he feels like he belongs somewhere calling himself this, especially bc he had no home before, and after when he was part of the peak he was singled out as special but in a bad way, so I believe that he just wants to belong somewhere, to a home. Later on, its also important to him because its a reassurance that SQQ still recognizes him as his family. This disciple, for SQQ is like a threat, but for LBH is a way of asking ‘do you still want me?’ ‘Do you see im the same person you shared your home with?’ And that SQQ doesn’t dare reclaim him at first hurts him bc he yearns to go back to being his disciple, cared for and protected under his master’s sleeve. But LBH also wants more than that if he can have it, and this is when the abandonment issues kick again. He calls himself ‘this husband’ in tears, because he got what he wanted and what he was sure he didn’t deserve for being himself, it’s again, a reassurance of his position in SQQ’s live and in his heart, it means he has the power to *stay*, which is the most important thing for him.

Ill finish here bc im getting mushy and weepy and i need to write and read more fic, thanks for coming to read my babbles and do tell me if there’s something or some nickname i missed and you want it studied too! 💖

[ohbo-ohno]

Don't really know what to do with this thought so I'm sharing this with you, but Ghost and Soap getting on a tram one day and the only seats left are next to this timid looking thing, trying to make herself as small as possible, silently hoping these two big men will settle for holding onto one of the poles or handle bars above. They clock in on her immediately, pretending to be kind and polite, making her feel safe as they sit on either side of her, boxing her in. They learn her routine and always get on when she's on.

Slowly, they start to cop a feel every once in a while, apologizing because 'it was an accident' and she doesn't think much of it at first, but she cant help but think something is off about them the more frequently it becomes, so she settles for standing up the next time she gets on the tram, holding onto a pole in the back corner. They'll probably leave her alone, right?

Soap and Ghost get on and see that their new toy has moved from the regular seat, obviously trying to avoid them. They're upset, and instead of leaving her alone like she hoped, they stand next to her, Simon using his body to block the view, though it doesn't really matter to either of them if anyone sees, and Johnny gets behind her to trap her between the pole and himself. They tell her not to make such a fuss as they take turns groping her because what would the people think if they saw her acting so slutty in public?

There's nothing she can do to stop them. It happens every single time she rides the tram now and she can't go on a different one because it's her only mode of transportation to work. It even gets to the point where Ghost and Soap can take a turn to fuck her before her stop because she's so quiet and good for them. They just have to remind her to keep being quiet and good as they fill her up with a load to drip down her thighs throughout her day. When they can, they steal her panties. One day they'll steal her away, too.

- 🥍

hey woah woah. how dare you infect me with these brainworms. not cool! (i love you)

nsfw in link but here's some fanart of ghost doing exactly this ask to soap

cw: noncon

i know a lot of people dislike reader inserts because the reader tends to lack agency, but i personally think it's hot for a character to be taken advantage of and very much so enjoy this image

you probably cant tell from literally everything i've ever posted on this blog but im a big fan of johnny and simon just doing whatever they want to you and you can't stop them. always leaves me melting to imagine them just... not caring whether you want them touching you or not. horrible men

i love this because i can just imagine the increasing discomfort and awkwardness as they push the boundaries of what's acceptable every day.

it starts with johnny just resting his thigh against yours, and yeah its a bit odd that his leg follows you when you try to give him more room, but you figure he's just being a dick and manspreading. and you can't go very far, because you'll bump into simon :( you scooch away from johnny a tiny bit and suddenly there's a big hand on your knee from simon, to hold you still and let he and johnny press against you as much as they want

i also like the image of you sitting in the corner with johnny boxing you in from the other seat and ghost standing in front of you to block every one else's view. johnny maybe leans over you, panting against the top of your head with a hand up your shirt using your tits as stresstoys :/ maybe moves down to sucking at you neck and when you look up you see ghost just staring down at you

ghost having you sit on his lap when you try and stand up one day. sits right behind you, wraps his big hands around the front of your thighs and tugs you down so you're sitting on him. pushes the back of your shirt up, pulls open his pants, and has you warm his cock for the ride :( doesn't fuck you, but maybe he rubs your clit and that + the little bounces of the bus/train moving get you off

[morskisir]

@ your last post hehehe i am thinking about how sniper (neurodivergent) gets comfy around spy for the first time and then spy looks at him weird for a second and sniper starts apologizing immediately but spy just laughs affectionately and tells him that it's endearing (sorry for the sniperspy brainworm i can't control it anymore)

anon is talking about this post!

when i initally got this ask i thought it was very cute (still do) and it inspired me to panel a whole ass comic page. however, as you may have noticed: i have not finished or worked on that since hkjdjsg. perhaps something will come of it eventually. (hoping)

still, there's a reason this inspired me and it's because i very much believe it takes sniper time to really initaite any contact of that nature. i once drew like a joke-thingy based on that, but it just ended up being cute, honestly.

i fucking hate them. (affectionate)

also- never be afraid to share the brainworms with me! they are in my head always.