#the F stands for fuck the government

[midnightwinterhawk]

Soft Headcanon

Clint Barton is a well known technophobe so his teammates are shocked the first time they see him hack into a heavily encrypted server in under 30 seconds.

"Clint. How- I've never even seen you touch a computer before today."

"Well yeah man, computers just aren't safe, you know?"

[ki-yomii]

down on you | jjk

➥ pairing | jeon jungkook x f!reader ➥ word count | 4.5k ➥ warning(s) | 🔞 smut; dirty talk, pet names, mild praise kink, squirting, hair pulling, standing missionary, rough sex, porn w/ plot, mafia!jk, detective!reader, established relationship, mild angst, mild violence ➥ summary | It’s true, he owns you: blood, bones, and all. ➥ notes | the mafia!jk au no one asked for aka an excuse to write smut w/ feeling lol.

💚 masterlist | inbox | AO3 💚

On his knees staring down the barrel of a loaded gun with a mouthful of blood, he knows this is the end of the line. He’s going to die like a rat in the gutter - no mercy to be found, loopholes to exploit or bribes to be made.

This is the real deal, and there’s no coming back.

Judgement Day comes in the form of a man with dark eyes and a dangerous smirk: Golden, the deadliest guard dog of the underground.

Credited with dozens of hits, you won’t know he’s there until it’s too late. Trying to keep him pinned is like trying to catch smoke with your bare hands, or a whisper on the wind.

And you won’t know he’s coming until you feel the breath on the back of your neck, hear the crack of a bullet ringing in your ears.

Belonging to one of the most powerful men in the world: Kim Namjoon, he’s more war machine than man.

“Go ahead, do it!” He spits at Golden’s feet, a mess of blood and drool staining the crisp leather of his combat boots. “Killing me won’t change a goddamn thing.”

A coy smile tugs at Golden’s mouth, his grin all sharp teeth and violence. He stays where he stands, his silhouette haloed by distant streetlights.

Water laps at the docks, the tang of salt heavy in the mid-summer Seoul air. There’s no rush; they both know he’ll be dead and dumped just like all the rest of the garbage in this rotting city.

“Come on, you prick! Pull the fucking trigger already.”

Golden cocks his head, and hums in the back of his throat. 

“Tch! I hope you’ve got a lot of bullets - we’re gonna knock the crown off Kim’s head one way or another.”

Golden thumbs at the safety of his gun, the barrel glinting through the shadows. “Ahh, is that what you think?” He shrugs, a lazy ripple of muscle. “Well, I have to say: I’d love to see you try.”

The night is shattered by the resounding crack of a gunshot and an echoing splash of something heavy dropping into the water below.

You climb out of the nondescript government-issue car. The faintest tremble of your fingers nearly gives you away but you’re able to reign in the impulse to smooth your hands over your clothes at the last second.

Showing weakness is the last thing you need to be doing right now.

Especially here.

Right in front of where you’ve parked - shoved between two looming apartment complexes - sits a quaint, vintage building. The rough brick face is at odds with the sleek surroundings, but tinted windows keep prying eyes at bay while the classy signing hanging above the door reads The Red Bullet written in caps.

If you didn’t know better, it would be hard to believe this otherwise mundane storefront is a cover for one of the most dangerous international organizations based out of South Korea.

Not only do they hold the keys to the kingdom, but their success is largely in part because they spearhead operations from government espionage all the way to simple blackmail.

Even though it’s been several months since you darkened its doorstep, the familiar sight is enough to steal the breath from your lungs. Send your heart galloping into a tailspin as your stomach swoops.

While time away helped clear your head of stolen kisses and promises whispered in dark rooms, it also drove the longing bone deep.

In those quiet moments to yourself, when you have nothing else to distract from how lonely you are, you miss this place like one misses a limb.

You didn’t realize how attached you were to these four walls until it was too late: the hazy air filled with whorls of smoke, the overhead lights that bathe everything in red, the plush chairs you spent many nights sprawled across, the glossy black stages.

You don’t know how, you don’t know when but at some point it (he) started feeling like home. A luxury you can’t afford. Not again. After all, if you give in, any progress you made outside of his gravitational pull will be for naught.

Which puts you in a dangerous position as you find yourself back where it began; feelings at war with duty, mind vs heart. Because even if it leads you to a place you could go a million years without ever seeing again, you have to follow the trail of bodies.

A bouncer grants you access, the heavy door slamming shut behind you like a death knell as he herds you towards the back of the club.

It’s outside of official operating hours but it’s no less busy inside, men and women alike in scattered conversation as you pass through.

“It’s nice to see you again,” the bouncer murmurs, chancing a quick glance at your profile. “Been a while.”

You swallow, gaze darting down to your shoes. “Ah - yeah… Got busy with work. It’s - it’s nice to see you too.”

The small talk fizzles out, a snuffed candle as you arrive at a cordoned off room, “Here we are. Mr Kim is already expecting you.”

Any further pleasantries grow stale on your tongue as you enter the private booth, fighting against the lump in your throat to manage a hoarse ‘thank you’.

And then you find yourself left alone with the man himself, Kim Namjoon. He’s as intimidating as you remember, lounging back into the leather booth with his ankles crossed.

A lukewarm smile stretches across his lips, the slightest hint of a dimple peeking out from the valley of his cheek. Standing at attention on either side of his reposing form are two massive bodyguards. Their hands rest on the butts of their guns, daring any who enter to try and make a move.

“It’s good to see you again. But I gotta ask - what’s the occasion, Detective?” Namjoon hums. “I thought we were past all this.” He waves a nebulous hand between your bodies. “After all, you’re practically family.”

You ignore the hidden barb with a wince. “Mr Kim, you know why I’m here.”

“I used to know why a long time ago.” A well-groomed brow raises, his gaze glacial as it spears you in place. “But now I’m not so sure.”

“Please, Mr Kim. I don’t want to make this more difficult than it is. I just need to know about the man they fished out of the harbor, and then I’ll be on my way. So… who was he?”

Namjoon scoffs. “What makes you think I know more than the police?”

There’s a flash of a smirk, barely noticed, before his face returns to its neutral expression. As calm and cool as a placid river. “A john’s a john. What I do want to know is why you care so much?”

The underlying question is clear; why are you really here?

“I’m afraid I’m not at liberty to discuss such matters with civillians.”

“Oh? So I’m a civilian now.” His expression is not unlike the cat that caught the canary: vicious and delighting in the discomfort his evasions are causing. “Gotta say that’s a new one for me.”

Sighing in defeat, you say, “Alright, enough. I get it. I’m wasting my time with you. Let me ask this instead: where is he?” 

“He doesn’t know any more about this than I do,” he says, waving a blase hand towards a door off to the left, “But if you insist, you can find him in the office. Oh, and Detective?”

“...Yes?”

“Take your time, I’ll be out on business all afternoon.”

With a curt nod, you flee the room amid low-throated chuckles and enter the office. Standing near the desk, his broad back turned towards the door, you find the man you simultaneously want to see the most and run from the fastest.

He turns around, the muscles of his back rippling with the movement. Your breath stutters in your chest, and you nearly swallow your tongue as your eyes trace over the cut of his body.

The moment your eyes meet, those many months spent cultivating time and distance turn to ash. You forgot how even the mere sight of him affects you, any resistance to his many charms virtually nonexistent as the world falls away.

Rich, coffee dark; his gaze sucks you in until it’s all you can do not to reach out, to brush your fingers over his edges and feel them soften beneath your palms.

Rocking back on your heels, you clear your throat and glance to the side as you remain standing in the entryway, more than a little off-kilter.

Coming back after so long apart, only to find him the same as the day you left… How do you reconcile everything that’s changed with everything that was?

“Well, hello there.” Jungkook croons, leaning his hip against the corner of the desk with a roll of his shoulders. His arms cross over the trunk of his chest, accentuating the bulk of his chest, the flex of inked bicep. “Long time no see.”

Shifting, you gulp. “Ah - yeah…”

The burn of his gaze - a palpable sensation prickling across your skin - tracks a path from the crown of your head to the tips of your toes as he gives you a thorough once-over.

“You’re looking good,” Jungkook hums in approval, “real good. I’ve missed those pretty eyes of yours.”

“You - you too.”

Your attention doesn’t know where to settle: drifting from the curve of his shoulders to the jut of his bloody knuckles, the tuck of his trim hips to the thick-soled combat boots.

Tiny hairs at the back of your neck stand on end, and your palms slick with sweat.

“I mean, you look… y’know, uh, good too.”

A flash of a crooked smirk, the raising of a pierced brow gets your blood pumping, your heart tattooing a rhythm against your ribs. Emboldens you to reach back with shaky fingers to turn the lock. The sound grates down your spine, bolts of anticipation slicing through you.

It was dumb to think coming here, seeing him again, would end any other way than his taste on your tongue and his cock in your cunt. Hope makes fools of us all.

Should’ve known better but you’d been hopeful those days were long behind you. Now you realize it was inevitable.

After all, Jungkook is magnetic.

The black hole at the center of your universe, consuming everything in its path until he’s what remains in your head, your heart. You’re helpless, ceaselessly drawn to him like a moth to flame.

And try as you might, you can’t say no to a face like that.

Never could, in fact.

Failure to extract yourself from his orbit during your not-relationship is nothing new. That doesn’t mean you can’t make it difficult.

After all, you still have some dignity intact.

So try, try, try again.

“Ahem.” You try to banish the heat from your cheeks, guiding the conversation into the correct territory. “I’m not here on a-a social call, Jeon. I need to know: were you the one that killed and dumped the john in the harbor?”

Stalking closer, a lazy jungle cat on the prowl, Jungkook crosses the distance between you. He only stops once your bodies brush with every labored inhale. Heat radiates from him, and you’re achingly aware of every point of contact.

The light scent of his cologne teases your nose, and his eyes - god, his eyes. They’re shaded and hungry, devouring your expression with single-minded possessiveness. 

“What makes you think I know anything about that?”

“Jeon -- Jungkook.”

He hums.

Your heart thrums, pulse rushing hard through your head until you feel faint, blood surging the longer you stay in close contact. The shameful clench of your cunt makes your cheeks burn all the brighter.

The last time you were looking up at him like this, his hand was on your jaw while his cock thrust balls deep.

“C’mon, you know that isn’t going to work. This is me you’re talking to, not some rookie.”

“Mm,” he purrs, “it is you I’m talking to, isn’t it?”

You manage to bite back the groan but can’t stop your eyes from rolling even if there’s the slightest hint of a stutter when you reply, “Please, I just need to know if you killed him.”

Jungkook looms tall and proud, crowding closer. “And if I did, baby?” he asks.

Instinctively you back up, only to be followed step by step. A game of cat and mouse that finds you pinned against the wall before long. With nowhere to run, you watch, heart in your throat, as Jungkook dips his dark head.

His nose runs along the length of your neck, breath puffing across your sensitive skin as he inhales the pleasant scent of your perfume.

“I - I…”

“Would you see me in handcuffs?” His lips caress the underside of your jaw, a soft groan escaping him. “… C’mon, answer me. Would you?”

“I would - if I had to.”

As much as you wish that was true, you know in your heart of heart's you would do everything in your power to make sure that never happens.

No matter how much you like to think you’d do the right thing when push comes to shove, you’d choose him a thousand times over.

His eyes dance playfully. “Careful, I might like it.”

“I can’t say I’m surprised,” you say with a snort.

Jungkook chuckles low and warm, using the arm around your waist to tug you into the safety of his body. The softness of your breasts presses into the hard planes of his chest, your nipples pebbling through the thin cotton shirt you wear.

With a deep-throated groan, his hands encircle the curves of your hips as a thickly muscled thigh slots between yours.

An answering quiet sigh gets his blood pumping and his cock twitching.

“Mm, something tells me you’d enjoy it just as much, Detective.”

The use of your title is a rude awakening.

“Jungkook,” You warn, moving to push him away. Only once you start touching him, you can’t stop. His muscles flex beneath your curious fingertips. “We really shouldn’t.”

You’re sure if he could, Jungkook would spend days worshipping between your thighs, velvet heat wrapped around his tongue and hands in his hair as he brings you to peak again and again until you’re a sobbing, sopping, boneless mess beneath him.

“Come on, I know you want me - that you’ve missed me. I can see it in your eyes.”

He kisses the corner of your mouth, tongue flickering out for a brief taste before a rough thumb skates across your bottom lip, tugging down to expose your teeth, the glitter of your tongue as it darts out to flick over the pad of his finger..

“I’ve certainly missed you, baby. Want me to show you?”

Even though you refuse to admit anything out loud, you can’t help but angle your throat back and grind into his hips pressed against yours.

Jungkook tsks, “That’s alright. I’ll get that pretty mouth open one way or another.”

Before you can retort, a mouth swoops down to fuse with yours in a fierce, all-consuming kiss. A low, broken moan punches from your chest.

Reaching up, your fingers sink into the mane of dark hair that brushes the cut of Jungkook’s jaw. Soft, thick, and wavy in your grip; you tug at the roots.

Jungkook hisses. 

Teeth nip at your lip, kittenish licks soothing away the string as blood bursts across your tongues. The thigh shoved between yours grinds up with every wet, sloppy pass of your lips.

Thick muscle spreads your pussy open through the thin slacks of your work uniform. Sparks of pleasure dance down your spine with every rock against your swollen clit.

“S-Shit!” Your shoulders curl in, a shudder jerking through you. “K-Kook, I… !”

“Fuck, you’re so wet for me.” Jungkook growls, rutting his cock against the jut of your hip. The wet patch you’re making on his jeans grows larger with every filthy grind. “You’ve been gone too fucking long. Never again, you hear me?”

You claw at his shoulders, stuttering out, “there’s noth-ing you can do t’stop me.”

“If you don’t come back to me,” his eyes are dark and stormy, voice whiskey rough, “I’ll find you.”

It’s not a threat - it’s a promise.

“Then make sure I never want to leave,” you challenge breathlessly, staring into his blown out pupils, “Make me want to stay.”

Above all else, you think.

The words are barely past your lips when Jungkook accepts your challenge with gusto (just like you knew he would). Without delay, he thumbs open the button on your pants.

Refusing to let you look away, Jungkook yanks them to your feet and swings you up into his arms one-handed. They hang from your ankle like a chain.

Your surprised squeak is quickly swallowed up by a moan when he settles you over the bulge in his pants, your cunt hovering over his erection.

The heat of his skin sinks through the thin cotton of your panties, so, so close to where you need him. Slick soaks into the fabric, and clings to your inner thighs.

Every shift is a smooth, sticky glide of folds that stirs, and stokes the ember of desire smoldering behind your navel.

“Kook,” you breathe. “Please.”

Your head rolls back, and you sag into his chest. Your hips twitch in pathetic little attempts, trying to get pressure where you need it. Having him hot and hard and all for you; any distance between you is suddenly unbearable.

He needs to spread you wide and stuff you full with every inch of his thick cock until he’s so deep you won’t be able to walk for days.

“Shh baby, I’ll give you what you want,” he says, gaze heavy and possessive. “I’m gonna ruin you so good, you’ll have no choice but to come back. You’re mine.”

“Says who?”

“Hmm. You don’t think you are?”

Nibbling on your ear, Jungkook slips a finger under the hem of your panties. He smirks when you keen, rubbing his knuckle up and down your sloppy folds with teasing pressure.

“How about I show you what your body already knows?”

Wasting no time, he lifts you off his cock, the scrap of cloth fluttering to the ground. His free hand dives between your bodies. Then comes the clink of a belt, the sound of a zipper pulling down.

Your heartbeat thunders in your ears, your body coiled with anticipation as your stomach swoops at the brush of his fingers along the underside of your thigh.

“Look so pretty like this, baby.” Jungkook twists his wrist, hips arching back. “And it’s all for me. Fuck, I can’t wait to get inside this pretty pussy.”

Any response dies on your tongue, brain short-circuiting as the slick, fat cockhead rubs along your slit. Pressing against your entrance the slightest bit before slipping up to nudge at your clit - coating himself up in your sticky juices.

The ultimate tease - something Jungkook’s always been overly fond of doing until you’re out of your mind with desperation.

“Please, please, please,” you chant, cheeks on fire and eyes half-lidded as you circle your hips. “Stop playing around. I want it - want you, Kook.”

“Oh, baby,” he smiles, ducking down to kiss your forehead. “You’ll take whatever I give you.”

You can’t stifle the broken sob, tears prickling at the corners of your eyes. Liquid fire surges through your veins, a thousand bolts of lightening crackling beneath the surface of your skin. Your pussy is tender, swollen. Walls fluttering in time with your heartbeat. 

“Ha, you’re so needy for me.”

Jungkook’s lips brush away the moisture around your eyes, his thumb drawing soothing circles into the base of your spine. All the while, his torturous grinding never ceases.

“Aren’t you?”

You croak, “I can’t – Kook, please. Anything, I’ll do anything you want just fuck me.”

The flash of his eyes is your only warning before he’s right there, your walls embracing the girth of his erection inch by inch. Every ridge, every jerk as he seats himself as deep inside your silken heat as he can is absolute heaven.

The stretch as you take him to the hilt sends you careening towards the edge, eyes rolling back and toes curling in your shoes.

“Shit, shit, shit, shit!” you whimper.

“Shit!” Jungkook grits his teeth, squeezing the base of his cock as you tighten  around him. With every deep inhale, his pelvis brushes your swollen, needy clit. “Forgot how good you feel wrapped around my dick, baby.”

“Me too,” You gasp, tightening your legs around Jungkook’s hips.”Me too, Kook.”

Dropping his forehead to yours, he says gruffly, “‘m not gonna last long.”

Making a noise of acknowledgement, you wiggle your hips. Sinking your teeth into the side of Jungkook’s jaw, you bite and suck at his skin, wanting to leave a mark to remember you by. His reaction is instantaneous, releasing the grip on his shaft to grab a fist full of hair.

He yanks back.

The long, elegant line of your throat is exposed to his butterfly kisses and scolding love bites.

“Now you’ve really asked for it,” Jungkook huffs out with a dirty chuckle.

“Then give it to me.” You lick your puffy lips, looking up at him from beneath your lashes. “Show me who I belong to.”  

The brewing hurricane in his eyes is unleashed. Wide palms and strong fingers grip your hips so tight you feel bones grind together. His stance widens, his unwavering gaze locking onto your face, brow pinched, and mouth slack.

His lip piercing glints in the light, his tongue sliding out to wet his bottom lip. Dark curls tussle about his head, a wild halo that sweeps down into the burning umber of his eyes.

Helpless, you succumb - enchanted by the darkness peering at you from behind those dangerous eyes. He’s ethereal; a siren song that threatens to drown you, swallow you whole.

You’d happily let him, you realize with a shiver.

It’s true, he owns you: blood, bones, and all.

“Hold on tight,” Jungkook says, hooking his hands under your bottom. 

And then, he’s jackhammering into your cunt so hard and fast all you can do is hold on for the ride. Punch drunk and moaning as he manhandles you how he likes, spreads you wide and stuffs you full until you’re panting for breath and clinging to sanity by your fingernails.

“Fuck yes, that’s it. Look how well your pretty pussy always takes my fat cock.”

His low voice whispering filthy praises in your ear makes you whimper, whine, and writhe as the band of pleasure coiling tight in your belly comes close to snapping. It’s the fastest he’s ever fucked an orgasm out of you, and it feels so good you don’t even care.

The pace is brutal, slamming into you so hard you’re sure you’ll have bruises on your hips come morning. But it’ll be so fucking worth it. You’re going to cum hard and long, you just know it.

About to melt as Jungkook fucks the slick out of you, groaning as you drip down the base of his cock, his balls - his very own pretty little mess.

“Yeah, you gonna cum, baby?” he laughs, pressing a sweaty kiss to the side of your face. “Can feel how - haaah shit - how tight you’re squeezing me.”

“Uh-huh,” you cry, holding onto the tops of his wide shoulders. Every thrust has his cockhead dragging over the spongy patch of your g-spot, sending fissions of pleasure rocketing through your nervous system. “So - so close, baby. Just a little more, I--”

Balancing yourself, you lift up only to slam back down, meeting Jungkook’s thrust with all the force of gravity. “Oh fuck, oh fuck!”

Crashing over you like a tsunami, your orgasm shoots through your limbs and zips down your spine. A warm rush of cum soaks Jungkook’s shaft, the wet and messy sound of your squirt splashing against the floor secondary to the cry that claws its way out of your throat.

“K-Kook!”

Jungkook grunts, his fingers digging into the fat of your hips as he helps you keep bouncing up and down on his erection. “Yeah, that’s it - keep going, baby. Wanna feel you keep cumming all over this cock.”

Aftershocks slice through you like lightning, tiny jolts of electricity. As you come down from your high, your gummy walls pulse, milking at Jungkook’s thick shaft.

He groans softly whenever your muscles tense, release; your body a worn-out rubber band as your breath stutters from you.

Then a hand pets down your flank, your skin shivering with hypersensitivity at the tender touch. “S’okay. Just breathe, baby.”

Peeling open your heavy eyes, you look up at his face. Take in the crinkle of his brow and the ravenous expression. Even floating on a sea of bliss, white noise fills your ears, you want more.

You slur, determined, “Kook, baby, please. Cum in me, want you s’bad.”

“Fuck! Can’t just say shit like that to me or I…” Jungkook bites down onto the tender crook of your neck, muffling his grunts in your flesh. “Shit - ’m so --”

You cry out, nails digging into the meat of his shoulders, “A-haah, K-Kook!”

Snapping his hips forward one last time, Jungkook grinds as deep as he can get and lets go. The fat head of his cock kisses your cervix, his length throbbing in time with his heartbeat as a rush of cum floods your insides.

“Yeah, just like that,” he grunts, rutting once - twice into the cradle of your body, “take it like a good girl.”

He croons when you whine at the press of his pelvis against your oversensitive clit. Thready sparks of pain shoot down your legs that hang limply over his forearms. Every breath stutters from your lungs, slow and deep.

“No more, can’t - can’t…” Shifting, you arch your spine and burrow your head into his chest, nearly catatonic in his arms. “S’too much.”

“Shh, it’s okay. I’ve got you.” Fingers brush over your closed eyelids, smoothing over the arch of your brow. With every kiss dropped to the top of your head, he mumbles in dulcet tones, “I really have missed you, you know.”

You mewl in response as strong fingers knead the backs of your thighs.

“You’re not allowed to go anywhere.”

“Oh,” you can’t muster up enough energy to say anything more, body tender and trembling with little aftershocks, “s’that right?”

“Yeah, that’s right.” He chuckles. “You’re staying here - right where I want you.”

In lieu of a response, you pick your head up off the pillow of his chest and seek out his gaze. Liquid soft; he’s looking at you like you hung the world on a string.

“I’ve missed you too, Kook,” you say with a gentle smile.

You’ll allow yourself this moment of weakness when there’s no space between your bodies or hearts. Titles don’t matter much when he’s cradling you to his chest like a piece of precious china.

Between the two of us, you’re the one who hung the moon and stars, you think while combing back his sweaty bangs.

And I think I love you, you whisper voiceless against his lips.

[targaryen-dynasty]

THE DEVIL'S ADVOCATE.

Antichrist!Aemond Targaryen x female Reader

WARNINGS: SEXUAL CONTENT—MINORS DNI; dub con, p in v, fingering (with gloves 😮‍💨), dacryphilia, choking, degrading, unprotected sex, power imbalance, female reader

WORDS: 4.7 K

NOTES: Yes, this is based on American Horror Story Apocalypse. Michael Langdon is just so *phew* that I had to adapt it to Aemond. This is so self indulgent, I'm not even sorry. @kaelabear you're getting the special taglist. @arcielee thank you for beta reading this! <3

You have lost track of how many days, months, or even years have passed since your arrival in Outpost 3, and gods, you’d give it all right away to be back in one of the holding cells the government had put you in around the time the bombs rained down over King’s Landing. 

Even though you received the status as a purple upon your arrival, therefore placing you to the upper-class elites specifically selected for survival, you couldn’t be worse off. At least there you’ve been allowed to do your own thing – as far as the confines allowed you to. 

The nutritional cubes they serve you are rationed, with Ms. Misery announcing they’ll have to ration them even further in the next days, and on top of being hungry and bored, you haven’t had a good fuck in quite the while. 

Sexual contact, or any kind of copulation, is strictly forbidden, and you’ve witnessed firsthand what it means to break Miserys’ rules – not that you’d make any moves on the other residents occupying the former exclusive boys school anyways. 

It’s only been you and your hand, sometimes even your pillow, from the very beginning on until now, and truth be told? You’re sick of it. 

At some point you’ve stopped getting yourself off, only because your body longed for physical contact, for someone else’s body on your own. 

And what certainly doesn’t help with your misery is the mysterious man that arrived just a few days ago. 

When he introduced himself as Targaryen, you knew his arrival was something that came partnered with power. As much as you would have liked to focus on his speech to campaign himself, you found it was far too difficult to care about humanity being on the brink of failure when the man telling you about it was so, so damn easy on the eyes.

Just the sight of his sharp features, regardless of a part of them being concealed by a black eyepatch, has been enough to make your mouth water. And when your eyes traveled lower, taking in the way his black slacks all but hugged his toned thighs, all was lost for you. 

You’ve been grateful that Laenor pounced on him to be interviewed first, wanting to see if he'd be worthy enough to be relocated to the so-called sanctuary, because you certainly would have jumped Targaryens’ bones right then and there. 

His alluring aura, the dominance radiating off of him – it all are factors that drive your aching body to insanity. and the nights that followed you found your relief more than once with the image of him flashing right before your eyes. 

Some time has passed in which you’ve barely seen him around, only hearing of him through the stories of the other residents that have been interviewed by him; now it’s your turn to warm the large chair standing in front of the imposing Mahogany desk. 

It’s the door behind you sliding open that lets your heart drop into the pit of your stomach, and you fidget with your fingers to stop yourself from turning around. You don’t want to be caught staring in the first few seconds already. 

You hear your name fall past his lips so smoothly it sends a shiver down your spine. You give in to the temptation and watch him step inside with an air of mellow gratification, prowling around the desk until he eventually sits down in the empty seat across from you.

“There’s no need to be nervous,” he purrs, a glint of mischief dancing in his eye. 

There comes no reply from you, instead you continue to fumble with your fingers, looking at what you assume to be your file splayed out on the desk in front of him. 

It’s the dismissive hum that rumbles in his chest that finally piques your interest, and when your gaze settles on him again, you spot him touch his chin thoughtfully as his eye skimps over the pages, seeming as if he’s reading it for the first time. 

The red gloves he wears stand in stark contrast to the otherwise colorless rest of his outfit, your gaze drawn to them like a moth to a flame. He has worn them upon his arrival already; the smooth leather shining in the dim light of the candles makes your mind wander to more indecent things. 

He tilts his head up again to meet your gaze, his smooth and calming voice ringing out. “Your genetic profile would appear to be favorable, so you can say that this interview is solely conducted as a… precaution.” Though it’s meant to be reassuring, the deliberate pause he makes doesn’t seem convincing. 

His words make you frown. “What for?” you ask, and you curse yourself for how blunt and bold your voice sounds. “Aren’t you in need of relocating the last few people that pass on good genes, now that this is the last outpost standing?” 

The genuine laugh he offers you prompts you to lean back in your seat, juxtaposing the way he leans forwards in his. Something in the arrogance that radiates off of him, and the smug smirk he has on his lips, feeds your irritation. 

“Doesn’t seem like you can afford to be picky,” you snap back at him. 

He licks his lips, and although it’s not longer than a second, your mind immediately drifts off to think about how it would feel between your legs, how he would feel between them. You try to be subtle as you shift in your seat, barely moving enough to soothe the aching that blooms at the apex of them. 

“We’re making the selections as carefully as possible,” he counters. The paper of your file is pinched between his index and thumb, rubbing it between the pads of his fingers. “We need to ensure the survival of humanity, and I’m sure you understand that we have to look for a certain level of ambition in the people we choose.”

Even though his explanation is vague, and doesn’t make much sense to you, it is strangely appealing. The word ambition is such a broad term that could mean anything from career-minded to cutthroat, yet you still have to figure out exactly what he means. 

The tension grows thicker and thicker with each passing second of silence, and you feel a warm sensation spreading inside of you from his intense gaze – which is perhaps also due to the hint of desire that gleams in his eye as he regards you. 

You try your best to ignore the way your heart races, wanting to diminish the warmth inside of you. But to no avail. 

When he rises from his seat, your heart drops into your stomach again, and your eyes grow wide with curiosity and intrigue. 

It’s a brief flicker of your eyes down his body that has you squeezing your thighs together, far too distracted by how tall he is than to notice the smug smirk that tugs at the corners of his lips. 

“Would you say that you’ve… settled here?” he asks, his voice carrying a hint of something you find difficult to decipher.  

He slowly stalks around the desk, the tips of his leather-clad fingers smoothly gliding over the dark wood. His eye lingers on your face, taking you in and assessing your reaction. His expression holds the same edge of darkness his voice does, though he isn’t hiding it as effectively as he thinks he is this time. 

Your eyes never leave his frame when he comes to stand next to you, leaning back against the desk. He’s gripping the edge of it, and even in the dim light of the candles, you notice that it’s rather tightly, almost as if he’s suppressing the urge to touch you. 

“Well, I suppose I’ve managed to adjust,” you reply. 

For a brief moment, neither of you says anything. He just stares at you with this cold precision – until you catch his eye flitting lower, trailing over your form. 

The purple gown you wear isn’t revealing at all, not that Ms. Misery would allow you to wear anything of that sort anyways. The neckline is squared with raised yet off-the-shoulder structured shoulders that leave little to the imagination – but only if you’ve been touch deprived for long enough.

And, judging by the way his jaw clenches as his eye meets yours again, you can tell it’s also been a while for him. 

The thought of it makes your blood run hot, the warmth now spreading to your cheeks. Your gaze falls to your lap, watching your fingers fumble with each other while you feel his bore into your frame. 

There’s a hum rumbling in his chest once again, but this time it sounds more like a purr, as if he finds satisfaction in your nervousness. “Are you normally this flustered in front of men… or is it just me?”

A sudden rush of excitement and embarrassment floods your veins as your mind processes his words; your head snaps back up to look at him, and you’re greeted by a teasing grin. 

“I’m not flustered,” you reply, your voice only wavering slightly, yet you know that it’s clear to him that you’re not being very honest. He’s well aware of the effect he’s having on you. 

He tsks, a dangerous glint in his eye. “I mean, I can see you,” he says, gesturing to you with his hand. “You’re licking your lips, you can’t meet my eyes for more than a few seconds, your cheeks are flushed – it’s clear your body yearns to be touched…” he trails off, smirking to himself as he briefly glances to the ground. “... by me.”

His statement catches you off-guard. A quick exhale from your nose leaves you feeling winded with the sensations of butterflies wreaking havoc within your body. 

The silence between you lingers, heavy and thick as you ponder over his words, and you decide to go all in. You glance at him sideways, before speaking. “Is that so?”

His eye darkens at your coy demeanor, and with the corners of his quirking up into a sly smirk, he reveals just a glimpse of the devil that lurks beneath the angelic exterior. “Oh, it is,” he replies with a mocking tone. “I know you’re getting off to the thoughts of me at night, sweet thing. And even right now, you’re dripping for me. It’s almost pathetic.”

He almost seems relieved as he finally reaches to trace a gentle line over your exposed shoulder, starting at the crook of your neck. His light touch and the coldness of his gloves cause you to shiver involuntarily, and makes your breathing heavy. 

As if he’s searching for something within yours, his eye narrows, and your mind races with the possibility of what such a look might signify. 

“Look at you,” he purrs, licking his pouty lips. “You’re sitting here, just waiting for me to take things a step further – all the while I could smell that sweet pussy of yours ever since I’ve stepped into the room.”

Your mouth goes dry at his words, making it difficult to swallow, and you feel yourself clench around nothing; the urge to squirm in your seat is nearly overwhelming. 

“That sweet scent of yours…” he trails off. Mesmerized by his words and confidence, you almost flinch when he pushes himself off the desk, slowly kneeling down to be on a level with you, hovering close to you like a predator pretending to pounce. 

Your breath is heavy, and with your body still facing the desk, you’re forced to turn your head to the side to meet his gaze. There are mere inches between your faces now, and you feel his minty breath fan over your lips, swollen from how often you've licked them at this point. 

He brushes a strand of hair behind your ear, and heat follows where the cold leather of his gloves ghosted over your skin. “So desperate to be touched… to be filled,” he hums. While embarrassment blossoms inside of you, there’s no amusement laced within his silky voice. It’s as if he’s just stating facts. “Or am I mistaken?” Your name topples past his lips with so much ease, it makes you imagine how it would sound moaned by him.

Your head begins to swim. His scent, his domineering aura, the warmth emanating off of him – it’s all too much and not enough. 

Meekly shaking your head, the ‘no’ you reply comes out not louder than a whisper. 

He takes in a quick breath of air, relishing in his victory. The way you submit to him, to his power and dominance, feeds something within him; a hunger that’s been growing more and more demanding from the moment he stepped into the room with you. 

“Good girl,” he purrs, slowly rising to his full height, stretching his fingers as he keeps his eye locked on you. A flush spreads over your cheeks at his praise, the subconscious urge to make him proud sending a shiver of excitement through your veins, feeding right into your desire to please him. 

He’s standing again, letting his eye drift over your sitting frame for a moment too long, trailing down your neck, over the curves of your breasts, and settling in your lap. A gloved hand comes forward to pinch the skirts of your gown between his fingers, an almost disgusted look on his features. 

“Take it off.”

“W-What?” 

“W-w-what?” he mocks, the scoff he releases filling you with shame. “Take it off,” he repeats. “Or else I will take it off of you, and that won’t be any more pleasant.”

The thought of him undressing you seems tempting. A small part of you wants to protest, to say something along the lines of ‘you can’t just demand something like this’ but the other part craves this. It feels as if it’s quintessential for your body to survive, not able to go one day longer without being touched at all. 

Rising to your feet, you smooth out the skirts of your dress before craning your neck to look up at him. He’s towering over you, hardly stepping back far enough to create any space for you to undress. 

Having always been a bit of a pain to put on, getting out of the dress was even worse. The tight fit and squared neckline leaves you with very limited mobility, meaning you’re always relying on a servant to help you get out of it. And facing these difficulties, the thought of removing it all by yourself, especially in front of him, seems almost sacrilegious. 

A thought pops into your mind, and your body is quick enough to get through with it before you can even think about it properly. 

“Care to help me?” you ask, batting your eyelashes at him. Before he can refuse, you brush your hair over one shoulder and turn around, presenting him with your back and the tightly laced corset. 

Much to your surprise, he doesn’t refuse, and you say nothing as his fingers find the lacing of your corset, gloves brushing your skin as he slowly undos the laces. 

It’s a slow process, one that builds anticipation within you, and has you squeezing your thighs together yet again. 

His caresses are light and careful at first, but they grow increasingly firm and forceful. Each tug and pull draws you closer to him, and only when you hear the same dismissive hum rumbling in his chest do you dare to glimpse at him from over your shoulder, seeing him staring at your back with his jaw set with a new purpose. 

The fabric is still pinched between his fingers when they suddenly change course, gripping the purple fabric around the lace with a bit more force than necessary. He rips open the corset in a single, harsh motion in a clear display of his impatience, the torn fabric hitting the ground with a thud, and your gown quickly follows suit. 

For a moment, you feel relief at being freed from its confines. But it’s fleeting, your skin immediately prickling as you become aware of how much of your body is exposed to him now. 

It’s weird to think that this thin layer of modesty has been enough to keep your fluttering nerves at bay, and now it’s peeled away with you knowing he’s gazing at you as if he’s been served his first meal in months. 

Easing your trembling legs, you hold onto the desk for support. It feels like an eternity as you crouch forward slightly to steady your uneven breathing, the moment only breaking as he advances towards you, his body leaning against yours and pressing you up against the desk. It’s the only thing keeping you upright, and the moment you feel his hot breath caress your neck, your legs feel like they are about to give in. 

His thigh slips between yours, but you can’t feel his hands on your body, assuming he’s clasped them behind his back or kept them at his sides. You can tell that his chest isn’t the only firm thing that presses against your body, his cock rock hard and all but straining against your lower back, clearly finding as much pleasure in the situation as you do.

His proximity is all you’ve thought of for the past days, yet it’s not enough. You need his hands, him, to feel thoroughly satisfied. The urge to whine scratches in your throat, but you manage to swallow it at the last moment. 

“Beg for me to touch you,” he drawls, voice laced with a mixture of excitement and hunger. 

Exhaling a strained breath, you close your eyes. “P-Please,” you whimper, barely loud enough for him to hear. “Please… touch me. It’s been so long.”

“Hm.” You hear it loud and clear, the amusement, the satisfaction, causing your skin to heat up. “That’s all you’ve got?”

You tip your head back in frustration, meeting with his shoulder, a loud huff slipping past your lips. But you’re so close to getting what you want, there’s no way you’re giving up already. 

“Please, please touch me… Mr. Targaryen.” His name is spoken with a bit of hesitation. “I-I- please, fuck, need it so, so bad. Please.” That you’re not stomping your feet on the ground like an insolent child is everything, knowing it would push your chance for relief further away. 

But it seems to do the trick, because one gloved hand settles on your hip without him saying anything, while the other clasps around the outside of your thigh, his thumb brushing smooth patterns over your hot skin. 

He drags his nose along the side of your face, his breath tickling your skin, and you slightly turn your head to lean into it. “Where else do you want me to touch, mh?”

Feeling him on every inch of your body has you far too aroused to be frustrated by his on-going teasing and stalling. “Right…” you pant, peeling his hand from your hip to bring it down between your legs, “... here.”

A quiet whine slips past your lips as his fingers make contact with your sensitive clit, the cold leather of his gloves against your hot skin striking you as a welcome surprise and sending a shiver down your spine. It feels foreign, but nice nevertheless.  

You’ve fully anticipated him to pull back again, to leave you high and dry, but he surprises you again, when he drags his fingers through your swollen folds. 

“Right here, mh?” he purrs into your ear with a husky voice. 

It’s a grazing touch that alone is enough to make your mind hazy, merely humming in return. 

He’s not doing more than rubbing your clit and brushing his digits through your folds, but you’re wet enough already for it to be audible. The squelching sounds coming from between your legs are embarrassing, clearly highlighting your desperation for him, and it only gets worse when he slips a finger inside of you. 

Taking in a sharp breath, you hold onto the desk again. “God, fuck,” you whine. 

His finger is thick enough to be accompanied with a slight burning stretch, intensifying the moment he adds another. You can’t resist the urge to grind against his hand, the base of it applying just enough pressure to your clit to numb any discomfort. 

“You like that, mh?” he rasps. “So fucking wet and desperate for my fingers, dripping all over my glove.”

A string of whiny yesses leaves your lips as the pace of his fingers increases, making it incredibly difficult for your hips to maintain the rhythm. 

Heavy breaths and pants fan over your flushed skin, spurring you on and bringing you closer to the sweet relief you’ve craved for so long. He seems to sense your impending orgasm, and works you just a moment longer, before he withdraws his fingers from you, making sure the loss would make it even worse. 

But there’s no time to whine. 

“Look at the mess you’ve made,” he teases, acting as if he’s completely oblivious to the torture he puts you through, and brings his gloved hand up to your face. 

The red leather is covered in your arousal, sticky and glistening even in the dim light. As he spreads the two fingers, a few strings of it connect the leather, and you bite your bottom lip, knowing all too well what might follow. 

“Open your mouth, pet,” he commands in a stern voice. “Clean up your mess.” 

And you comply, parting your lips and eagerly embracing him pushing them inside. Your tongue swirls around the digits, the leather tasting and feeling completely different on your tongue. 

You hardly notice that his other hand has left your thigh, and even less that he’s undoing the zipper of his slacks, pulling out his hard cock. Only when you feel the pressure against your entrance do your eyes widen, and you whine around his fingers as he pushes inside. 

Even though you are stretched from his digits, it can not compare to his cock. 

He’s filling you to the brim in one, swift thrust, and with you being gagged by his gloved fingers, you can’t do more than mewl and moan. “Fuck, tight cunt taking my cock, hm? That’s it, such a good, little pet.”

Not giving you the chance to adjust to his size, he sets up a reckless pace from the very start, his impatience running thin with the way your tightness embraces him. He fucks you as if it’s a one time thing, as if you won’t make the cut, but something inside of you tells you this is merely the beginning. 

Saliva trickles down your chin as his cock drives deeper and deeper, forcing moan after moan past your lips and his gloved fingers. It’s the sounds of skin slapping against skin, his strained grunts and your muffled whines filling the room, and if Ms. Misery were to find out, you would be tortured or killed even before the next day arrived. 

Maybe it’s the risk of being caught that drives him to his next step, but he withdraws his fingers from your mouth, gloved hand coming down to rest around your throat instead. He applies just a bit of pressure, merely meaning to hold you upright and steady to make it easier for him to use you to his liking.

You scramble for hold, sweaty palms planted flatly on the wooden surface in front of you, supporting yourself as the man behind you all but fucked every coherent thought out of your brain. 

“Look at you,” he grunts, pounding into your needy cunt. The tip of his cock brushes your sweet spot, pushing high enough to knock the air out of your lungs and make you lose yourself. “All you’ve been thinking about was my cock. So desperate to be fucked by me, huh?”

You are so full with him, his scent, his warmth, everything, that breathy whines and yesses are the only things slipping past your lips. 

He drags his nose along the side of your face, clearly relishing in the way he’s fucked you dumb with so little effort already, and you almost feel yourself come on spot the moment he presses his lips to your earlobe. 

Pushing his hips all the way into yours, he stills them for a moment, bringing up a gloved hand to spit on his fingers and before dragging them harshly over your sensitive clit, and putting you straight into a frenzy. 

The tears that were brimming in your eyes now spill and run down your flushed cheeks, hitting the desk he has you hunched over. 

“No need to cry, pet,” the man behind you drawls, a satisfaction weaved in his husky voice. “You wanted this, didn't you? Wanted my cock to fuck you stupid? Or do you want me to stop?”

Your blank mind barely processes his words, but just hearing the word stop has you finding your voice again. “N-no,” you whine, arching your back and pressing your ass back against him. “Don’t-don’t stop, Sir. ‘M so, so close.”

“Close, mh? Then fucking come for me.”

With his hand now applying a good bit of pressure to your throat and his fingers strumming your clit in a reckless pattern, you feel yourself getting lightheaded as your release hits you suddenly. 

His strained groans are hushed against your neck as you spasm around him, sucking him in hungrily. He works you through it, fucking you as you quiver and shake. Grinding against him, you ride your high out in rhythm with his thrusts, gasping each time his cock pistones inside of you. 

His hips falter slightly for a moment, caught off guard by how tightly your walls are squeezing him, but he regains his composure and sets up a brutal pace again. You’re swollen and raw by now, but he doesn't stop. 

“That’s it, fuck, I’m gonna get this pathetic cunt stuffed with my cum,” he grunts, pulling his hand from your clit to plant it on your hip. 

Each rut of his hips makes your eyes journey to the ceiling, the tears on your cheeks now dry. There are hiccuped breaths spilling from your mouth, and you can’t do more than to hold onto the desk, bracing yourself for his relentless pounding. 

With a stutter of his hips and a raspy groan escaping his throat, his cock eventually spills deep inside of you, coating your walls. He fucks it into you with deliberately slow thrusts, the last spurts of his warm release filling you to the brim.

A strained groan is audible as he pulls out, tucking himself back in his slacks, and assumes the cold demeanor he’s had before. The only courtesy he grants you is picking up your dress and underwear he’s torn off you before, holding it out for you to take. 

You get the cue, and dress yourself on trembling legs. The blonde watches curiously, leaning back against the desk again. The red gloves now lay on the desk, and you catch a glimpse of his long, ring-clad fingers. 

With flushed cheeks, you briefly look at the ground before presenting him your back again. “Do you mind?” 

He nods and steps towards you, silently lacing up your corset, and whenever his skin brushes yours, a shiver runs down your spine. His skin is soft, smooth even, and the warmth emanating from them is far more pleasant than the cold leather.

But the moment is fleeting as he quickly moves to sit down behind his desk again, a new file already pinched between his fingers. You smoothen out the skirt of your dress, merely bowing your head once, and make a beeline for the door. 

It’s his voice ringing out that stops you in your tracks, though you don’t dare to turn around. 

“I expect you to come back for your second interview tomorrow. See it as an opportunity for me to gauge whether or not you truly have the right… ambition.”

“Thank you, Mr. Targaryen,” you mumble in return, a strange sense of satisfaction and anticipation already coursing through your veins. 

Hearing your name once again, you turn your head to look at him. “There’s no need to be formal when it’s just us. You can call me Aemond.”

Taglist: @heimtathurs @croatianprincess @nina2697 @malfoytargaryen @thetaygaryen @wintrr13 @winter-soldier-101 @kyuupidwrites @boofy1998 @thekinslayersswordhand @sagelovesreading @jiminie-08 @doublesparrows @at-a-rax-ia @fan-goddess @recorddust @tsujifreya @melsunshine @drwstarkeyy @kazuyatokue @moonlightfoxx @bbgmonsay @thatmysteriousblog @ashovertheriver @black-dread @watercolorskyy @nothingqueens @urmomsgirlfriend1 @lovelykhaleesiii @hypocritic-trash-baby @darylandbethfanforever9 @snowystark @connorsui @valeskafics

[praisethegabs]

HATE THAT I LOVE YOU

leon kennedy x f!reader

synopsis: Leon can't stand seeing you around him. You know how much he hates you and you like having fun with it. Things get worse when the two of you get lost during one mission, with no comms to call for help. Leon blames you for everything, until he revels something he shouldn't.

warnings: ENEMIES TO LOVERS. descriptions of injuries, reader taking care of leon, comfort, fake marriage, descriptions of nudity, leon drunk and and reader teasing him. small reference to call of duty characters as part of reader backstory.

word count: 10k +

a/n: heavily inspired by "death of me" by wizthemc. cover from laughingwallaby on x/twitter. it isn't necessary to listen to the song, but I highly recommend it.

"he’d set fire to the world around him but never let a flame touch her" senlinyu

Leon Kennedy hates you more than anything else in this world. 

He hated the fact he was obligated to be your partner, hated the reckless way you always managed to finish a mission practically intact, and hated the way you always succeeded in something, no matter what it was. He hates you entirely, even your perfume is enough to get him on his nerves. 

He hates you ten times more because he knows you know he hates you, and you seem like you don't care about it at all. 

It all started three years ago, when he discovered he would be your new partner. Your name was pretty famous, and so were you. Not that he envies your success, but he never thought he would be under the shadow of someone like you. At first, Leon was very impressed with your skills and the way you work, but two weeks later, he started to despise you, and this feeling turned into hatred. 

You ain’t stupid, you can even feel all the hate he has towards you, and things get better because you have this masochist side of yours that makes you feel happy seeing how angry he can be at you. 

Although you don’t care about the reasons he hates you, the thing is, you can’t deny how attractive Leon can be, and having him as your partner makes every other agent jealous of how lucky you are. It’s Agent Kennedy, the one and only. The guy who rescued the president's daughter and basically did other significant things for the government. 

But, despite the Leon you know at work, his entire life is a blank page. You know absolutely nothing about him, and he doesn’t care about sharing his personal life details with someone he hates. You noticed a while ago that you are the only person Leon ignores and despises completely, and he avoids talking to you as much as he can, only when it is necessary. And when he opens that pretty mouth of his, it usually contains hateful words. 

At this point, you just do your job the way you see fit and come back home safely, not caring about Leon’s arrogant ass. 

“You could have killed us!” Leon snaps at you, his entire demeanor showing stress. He can’t avoid grabbing you by your arm and squeezing it tightly, which makes you groan.

“Well, golden boy, at least your ass is intact and here. I’d like to hear a nice ‘thank you’, how about it?” You smirk and tilt your head, and in response, his entire face turns red with anger.  

“You’re so fucking immature. Do you think you’ll be lucky for the rest of your life?” He raised his voice, his hand on your arm getting tighter by the second. The expression on your lips didn’t make things easier. “One day, you won’t be that lucky, and you’ll probably drop dead somewhere. I won’t be there to pick up your pieces. Do you want to risk your life? Go ahead, I don’t fucking care, but don’t drag me into your bullshit again. I’m your partner, not your babysitter” 

“I’m really surprised you consider me your partner, Kennedy,” you smirk again, and that smirk was enough to infuriate Leon more than he already was. 

Leon was on the verge of yelling at you, but the cold expression that quickly went up on his face was enough to make your smirk disappear. You have never seen him like that, it was weird. 

“Maybe I should change that,” he hissed with cold and dead eyes, finally letting go of your arm.

“Good luck with that, Kennedy,” you coo, crossing your arms over your chest as you speak. 

After saying that, the smile you gave him was enough to make Leon livid. He wanted so badly to take that ironic smile off of your lips, he wished that right now you were a man, so he could definitely teach you a lesson you wouldn’t forget so soon. However, you are the same annoying opposite gender that he hates so much. So, instead of beating the living shit out of you, he just watched you leave, turning in the opposite direction to calm himself down before he did something stupid. 

The last mission was very simple: locate and terminate a bioweapon. As you two went there to find the said bioweapon, the entire area was drowning in chaos. The area was isolated to prevent the bioweapon from running away, and alongside you and Leon, there was the entire squad ready to follow your lead. 

It should be simple, right? Here's the part where Leon thinks you're completely reckless. Instead of following the standard protocol, you thought it would be best to use yourself as bait and literally explode the entire block. Your stupid plan really worked, and the bioweapon died in the explosion; luckily, you were left with a few scratches and a bleeding ear — which the doctor said wasn't something serious, although you would be “deaf” for a few days from your right side. 

So, when you got home, the first thing you actually did was take a nap, which turned out to be deeper than you expected. You slept for twelve hours with your phone in airplane mode so that no one could disturb your sleep. The only thing you weren't counting on was waking up to the distant sounds of someone practically wanting to take your door down. Wearing your cat pajamas, your hair a complete mess, and your face swollen after so many hours sleeping, the last person you thought you would see was Leon. 

And he was right there. 

“Do you know I’m out of the clock at the moment, right?” you asked him, with a big yawn seconds later. His face wasn't one of the most friendly you've seen. 

“Yeah? Do you think I’m here because I want it?” Leon rolls his eyes, sounding annoyed and bored. 

“Well, golden boy, if you’re here to yell at me about what happened earlier, I suggest you wait until tomorrow. I’m definitely not in the mood for you,” you said, already closing the door, when Leon suddenly stopped you. “I always thought you were a weirdo, now I’m sure of it. What do you want?” 

“Get ready for our new assignment. And try to dress in something more... elegant.” Leon gave you the file from the next mission. Surprised, you started to read the file, and out of nowhere, you started to laugh in disbelief. 

“Recently married couple on their honeymoon? Is this some kind of sick joke?” You glanced at him, still laughing nervously at your new disguise with him. 

“Trust me, I asked the same question, and unfortunately, that's our new disguise. So, get your ass ready. We’ll be leaving in three hours, Ms. Kennedy,” he said with his Stoic and cold expression as always, giving you a ring made of white gold, which made you think how expensive it was. 

“I’m pretty sure our agency wouldn’t give us this type of accessory,” you said to him, taking a good look at the ring he gave you. White gold, with a beautiful sapphire and diamonds carved around the blue stone. 

“Don’t be late,” Leon said, ignoring your last commentary. “I’ll be waiting at the airport” 

Leon left without looking at your confused expression. You had to read the file at least three times until you finally understood the mission. Leon and you were going to pose as a recently married couple enjoying their honeymoon as you two investigate a famous billionaire that made its own wealth by selling bioweapons in the market. You sighed with the sudden stress, walking towards your room to prepare your bag. After finishing your bag, you caught yourself glancing again at the ring. You were sure the agency wouldn’t give this ring to Leon for a fake marriage. It was something else, but what? 

So, one hour later, you drove to the airport. At least this time, you weren’t late, and Leon wouldn’t be making a scene over it. You found him distracted, wearing sunglasses with his leather jacket, his hair shining in the sunlight. Leon seemed very focused on the book he was reading, and it was a big surprise to see him like that, especially because you knew nothing about him. 

“So, dear husband, are you ready to go?” you ask, seeing him put his book aside. He looked very beautiful with those sunglasses. 

“Yeah, sure.” He nodded, his voice sounding calm instead of the coldness you were used to. You noticed he was wearing his own wedding ring. 

“Will you tell me where these came from?” You started to walk next to him, referring yourself to the ring he gave you, hoping it would be a real answer. 

“Why do you care? It’s just a ring,” Leon replied, avoiding the subject as much as he could. 

“I don’t think it’s just a ring. It has some marks on it, like it was used before.” The egocentric smile on your lips made Leon take a deep breath. 

“It was from my mother, okay? It’s the last thing I had from her and my dad before they died. Satisfied?” Leon harshly replied to you, and you knew you had screwed up. You didn’t know about his family, and the way he replied made you realize it was a hard subject. 

“I’m sorry, Leon. I didn’t know,” you hissed, feeling your entire face burn with shame. 

“Like you care,” he replied in a cold tone, walking away from you towards the airport. 

The rest of the flight was absolute silence. Leon didn’t speak with you and had no intention to do so. You felt terrible, but you decided not to show him any feelings; the guy literally hated you, and showing how you felt was the last thing he would believe. So, thinking about all the years of free hate, you decided it was for the best to pretend you didn’t care.

Naturally, pretending that everything was fine was one of your best qualities. You were so good at hiding your own feelings that no one could read you or decipher your emotions. 

At the hotel, hours later, you were ready to follow Leon and finish the job. Deep down, you were expecting his coldness and his famous Stoic expression, along with his grumpy humor. However, you were caught off guard when he suddenly took your bags and smiled at you. He was, indeed, a full mystery. 

“C’mon, darling. I’ll take your bags for you.” When he said that, you noticed the “recently married couple” game was on. You glance at him and smile broadly, then kiss his cheek.

“Oh, babe, you’re so sweet to me. Thank you,” you said, giving him your bag and walking in front of him like you were some kind of model. Two people could play this game, right? 

After the check-in, you two walked between fake laughs until you reached the master bedroom. Leon could pay, and so could you, but you decided to let him play along since it was his mission, and you were just his annoying partner. 

“Such a cliché… having one bed,” you sighed at the sight of the master bed in the center of the room. 

“We’re married, it should look like that.” Leon rolled his eyes, leaving your bag close to the bed as he analyzed the entire room. 

“No, we’re not married. We’re pretending to be,” you said, sitting on the edge of the bed and smirking ironically at him. “And besides, why me? You said you wanted to leave. You could have asked for any other agent”  

“Who said I didn't ask?” Leon replied with the same ironic smirk on his lips, sitting on the armchair in front of you. 

“And what did they say?” Suddenly, you sounded more upset than your usual sarcastic demeanor. You hope Leon didn’t notice. 

“Unfortunately, they can’t give me another partner. Guess I’m stuck with you for God knows how long” He sounded annoyed for a moment, but you chose to ignore it completely. 

You decided you needed a bath. You took a few clothes from your bag and decided to “play” with him. Not only that, but you removed your clothes in front of him, sensually, trying to get some reaction from him. When you glanced at Leon, he was hard.

“What are you doing?” he asked, and you noticed he was breathing heavily. Now he was nervous, and it wasn't anger. 

“We are married. I guess this is what wives do in front of their husbands.” You wink at him, making your way to the bathroom wearing nothing but your lingerie. 

Leon was completely speechless. You could see him swallowing harder, his Adam’s apple going up and down faster. The devilish smile on your lips didn’t make things easier for him, either. It took a lot of strength from him to look anywhere else but you. Leon was clearly uncomfortable and nervous. 

“You know, if you want this mission to succeed, you must pretend you don’t hate me. And for that, you need to trust me, Kennedy. I know you despise my methods, and I know you’re anxious to get rid of me, and honestly, I don’t really give a shit about your teenage behavior,” you said from the bathroom, wrapping your now naked body around a white towel and opening the door again so you could see him. “So, I promise I’ll try my best to not screw everything up. Just try not to act like the asshole you are usually whenever you’re with me” 

“Oh, I’m the asshole now.” Leon finally seemed to wake up from his own trance, and his expression suddenly changed from Stoic to aggressive. "You've acted like a complete jerk since the first day we started to work together, and according to you, I’m the asshole here? You should look at yourself in the mirror, sweetheart” 

“Then why did you stay here with me this entire time? You could have split a long time ago, golden boy,” you say, crossing your arms in your chest, not intimidated by his behavior. 

“I told you. They won’t put me with another agent. I’m stuck with you, and trust me, I wish I could have left a very long time ago,” Leon replied coldly, his blue eyes almost icy with the way he was staring at you. 

But instead of your silence, you caught him off guard.

“I know you’re lying. If you snap your fingers, they will do everything you want. You just have to ask, since you’re their golden boy. They freaking love you, Kennedy, and there’s nothing they wouldn't do to please you. Don’t bullshit me,” you said, walking slowly towards him and hissing, your eyes shining with sarcasm. 

But Leon didn’t give you an answer. Instead, he took his leather jacket and left the room without saying something. You decided to calm yourself down and go straight for a bath, enjoying the candles and their arousal. After what seemed to be a long time in the tub, you left the tub and wrapped the towel around your body; the room was still empty, and you couldn't care less about Leon. If he wanted to act like a pampered kid, that was his problem, not yours. 

You enjoyed the time alone to do your skin care routine, and decided to take care of your own body as well. It was almost eight when the phone inside your room started to ring. 

“Ms. Kennedy, I’m sorry to interrupt, but your husband seems to be causing quite a scene in the hotel bar. I might have to ask you to pick him up; otherwise, I’ll have to ask security to take care of him,” the person on the other side says to you, and immediately, you sighed. 

“I’m sorry for the inconvenience, I’ll go get him right now. Thank you,” you said, forcing the most sweet tone of voice you could at the moment.  

You left the room thinking about ending Leon. He could definitely jeopardize the entire mission with his behavior, and this was unacceptable. When you found him in the bar, he was, indeed, causing a big scene. Leon was screaming and scaring the rest of the guests, and there were at least three security guards next to him. 

“Leon, darling, come on. You've had enough,” you said, approaching him and touching his shoulder softly. 

“Are you his wife?” one of the security guards asks you with a serious expression. You couldn’t blame the man, he was only doing his job. 

“Yes, and I am really sorry for my husband. I guess he’s just too carried away…” you said with the calmest tone of voice you could, trying your best to hold him tight. 

“Ma’am, you need to control him. He made a lot of mess in the bar.” The other looked severely at you, with an angry expression. 

“I’m here, aren’t I? Don’t worry about the trouble, we can pay for the inconvenience,” you replied in a harsh tone. Suddenly, Leon threw up, and his vomit fell on the floor. “And we can pay for that too”

“Suck on that, fuckers!” Leon smiled before you dragged him back to your room. 

In the silence of the hallway, Leon had a lot of difficulty walking properly. He was stumbling on his feet and saying incoherent things in your ear. You never saw him like that, and it was pretty weird being his babysitter. You wanted to kill him, but he couldn’t even stand, and possibly wouldn’t remember a thing the next day. 

“I hate you,” you muttered, dragging him across the hallway towards your room. 

“Why do you hate me?” Leon asks, his mouth smelling of alcohol and his words confused. “Am I not good enough?” 

“Where is this coming from?” You raised both of your eyebrows in visible confusion. Finally, you reached the room and unlocked the door, dragging Leon into the bathroom. 

“I tried… to be enough… I know I’m an asshole, but… I’m scared of being hurt again, and… I push people away from me… but you’re so different…” he says between drunken hiccups, which is almost funny, but completely unexpected. “I've liked you since the first time I saw you, and… and…” Leon throws up again in the toilet, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath, before looking at you again. You were completely speechless. 

“I think you need a bath,” you muttered, still shocked by his words. Your hands were shaking, and for a moment, you had no idea what you should do. 

“No… I… I need to finish this because I don’t know when I’ll have the balls to do so again…” Leon grabs you tightly, not wanting to let go of you. Biting your lower lip, you nodded. “I know I said I hate you, but… but that’s not true. I only did that because… because I was scared and thought you would reject me… so I started to act like an asshole… I’m so sorry” 

“It’s okay… I should be sorry too, I didn’t make things easier for you since day one” you said to him, sounding more kind than you usually are. He won’t remember this conversation, you are sure of it. 

“I feel complete trash… I should’ve just… asked you instead of acting like an asshole…” Leon said this between other rounds of drunken hiccups. He’s pretty wasted. 

And before this conversation could end in another way, you decided to give him a cold bath. You didn’t remove his clothes, and he complained a lot when he felt the cold water on him. After that, you had to change his clothes, and when Leon saw you touching him, he turned hard again, although he was too drunk to even be ashamed. You had trouble laying him on the bed, but he didn’t struggle against you. 

“I love you,” he whispers before falling asleep. 

The next morning, you decided to leave Leon alone for a while. You couldn’t explain to him what happened the night before because you were too shocked to say something. “I love you,” he said, and his words made a home in your head. How was that even possible?

Leon Kennedy, the guy who hated you with his entire being, said he loved you. He was drunk, and he probably didn’t mean any of those words. Maybe he was just playing a game with you, maybe that wasn’t true. However… drunk people tend to say things they usually wouldn’t say. So, there was a remote possibility that he was, indeed, telling the truth. How could you believe him? 

“Fuck… what happened?” Leon asks you when he woke up, squeezing his eyes. He had a terrible headache. 

“You got drunk last night and caused a lot of trouble in the bar,” you said, throwing at him a small, transparent bag with painkillers. 

“Shit, I can’t remember anything. My head hurts like crazy.” Leon looks at you, and you can see the effects of the hangover on his face. 

“Glad one of us has commitment to the job,” you said, sounding harsher than you wanted to be. Leon looks at you again, but completely confused this time. 

“What did I say?” he asks, and then, as you can notice, he sounds more desperate. If it were at another time, you would definitely take advantage of it, but his words echoed in your head again. 

“Nothing important. Just regular drunk stuff,” you say, shaking your shoulders, avoiding the subject that was hammering your head. 

"Fine.” He nods his head and stands up, walking to the bathroom. 

His words were floating in your head, and it was hard not to think about what happened the other night. At this point, you had no idea how you would finish the mission. Not with his words hammering in your head, penetrating your chest, and making you feel things you really don’t want to.

You hate Leon Kennedy and everything he made you feel.

He comes out of the bathroom, and he has a towel wrapped around his waist. The sight you had of him, all muscular, his body sculpted by the gods, walking like that in his own glory. It made your stomach twitch. You felt your face burning, and right now, you wanted to dissipate from the earth. 

“We have a meeting in one hour.” You had to find a lot of strength inside you to not stare at his chest when you spoke to him. 

“Can you go alone? I’m not really in perfect condition.” Leon sits on the bed, looking at you. He seems to not realize what’s happening. You, in response, shake your head. 

“No, I can’t. Since we’re married, you need to come with me. It sucks, huh?” you replied with a cold smile, looking at him with dead eyes. 

“Jesus, you’re really a pain in the ass,” he says in a deep breath, reaching for the painkillers. 

You decided to ignore his commentary and get ready for the day. According to your new schedule, the man you two went to investigate would be in a meeting and then head to the restaurant. It was the perfect opportunity. You decided to wear a short black dress, making your thighs visible, and a V-neckline, showing a little of your breasts. 

"Fuck” Leon mutters when he sees you, and you can notice he’s a little nervous. Maybe he’s starting to remember what he did last night.

“What?” you ask him, raising both of your eyebrows.

“I can’t find my phone,” he replies angrily, looking the entire room over to find his phone.

“It’s in the drawer.” You rolled your eyes, finishing with the makeup and your hair. Leon sighed in relief when he finally found his phone. “You’re welcome”

He took a few minutes until he finished getting ready. Leon was wearing a navy blue shirt, black shorts, and sunglasses, the same ones he was using at the airport. He was looking very beautiful, but you decided to keep your thoughts to yourself.

“Ready?” he finally asks you, looking at you with some curiosity. You nodded, grabbing your purse and walking next to him outside the room.

The hotel’s restaurant was filled with the clinking of cutlery and the low murmur of conversations. Leon and you decided to sit across from each other at a small, intimate table, your gazes scanning the room for any sign of your target.

The aroma of freshly brewed coffee and the soft jazz playing in the background provided a calming facade to the tension that lingered between them. Leon, with disheveled hair and a pair of sunglasses that only partially hid the evidence of a rough night, rubbed his temples and winced.

"Ugh, I think I might die. I can't believe you dragged me into this after last night. I swear, my head is splitting." he muttered, pretending to be reading the menu.

"This is a mission, Leon, not a vacation. You knew what you signed up for when you took that last shot. Now, pull yourself together. We need to find our guy, and your hangover isn't helping." you shot him a withering look, your eyes sharp beneath a cascade of your hair

"I just don't get why we couldn't have rescheduled this. I mean, who plans a stakeout the morning after an undercover party? It's like the universe is against me." Leon leaned back in his chair, wincing at the light filtering through the bistro's window.

"We don't have the luxury of rescheduling. This is our best chance to catch him off guard, and we can't afford any mistakes. Your lack of professionalism could jeopardize the entire mission. So, get over yourself and focus." You clenched your jaw, your frustration evident.

Leon sighed, realizing he had hit a nerve. He straightened up and took off his sunglasses, revealing bloodshot eyes.

"Fine, fine. I get it. No more complaints. Let's just eat and keep an eye out for our guy. Maybe the food will cure this hangover from hell." he said, waving his hand at the waitress.

"Good. We need to stay sharp. Our target is slippery, and we can't afford to miss any signs. Just remember, we're a married couple on a lunch date. Act natural." you nodded, your stern expression softening slightly.

As the minutes went by, the restaurant was an oasis of calm, its subdued lighting and plush furnishings a stark contrast to the pounding headache Leon was nursing.

Besides his mood and his complaints about the headache, you were the one who maintained a professional demeanor. However, your patience was wearing thin. The clinking of silverware and muted conversations formed a backdrop to your undercover mission.

"Can we make this quick? My head feels like it's about to split open." Leon winced, massaging his temples after minutes in silence.

"You brought this upon yourself, Leon. You can't let your personal life interfere with the mission. We have a job to do." You shot him a disapproving glance.

"I didn't expect last night to turn into a frat party. It was supposed to be a simple gathering." Leon sighed, regret etched on his face.

"Well, you should have thought about that before you started to behave like a pampered kid. But guess what, Kennedy? We can't change that now. We're on a timeline, and we can't afford mistakes. So, suck it up and focus." your eyes narrowed, your tone of voice sounding angry. I love you, his words, still echoing in the back of your head,

As he perused the menu, Leon's eyes flickered across the room, and he stiffened.

"There he is," he muttered, nodding discreetly toward your target who had just entered the restaurant.

"Perfect timing, Leon. Just what we needed." your gaze followed Leon's, and you cursed under your breath.

You two ordered quickly, your argument temporarily set aside as you two maintained the appearance of a normal, albeit slightly disgruntled, married couple. The target settled at a nearby table, engaged in conversation with an associate. As your food arrived, Leon's hangover-induced irritability resurfaced.

"Can we at least eat in peace before we tail him? I'm not in the mood for this undercover drama." he complains again.

"Your mood doesn't matter. We need to catch this guy. Finish your food quickly, and we'll tail him discreetly." you shot him a stern look.

Leon grumbled but complied, glancing over his shoulder at the target. The argument simmered beneath the surface, waiting for the opportune moment to erupt. As the two of you left the restaurant, the hangover weighed heavily on Leon, intensifying his annoyance. You kept your voice low as you two trailed the target through the hotel's corridors.

"Leon, I don't care about your hangover. We can argue later. Right now, we need to focus on the mission." you sharply told him in annoyance.

Leon shot back, his tone sharp, "Well, maybe if you were a bit more understanding, we wouldn't have to argue at all. This headache is killing me."

You shot him a pointed look but decided to let it go for the moment as you two approached the front desk to inquire about your room. The target was believed to be staying on one of the upper floors, and obviously, you two needed to gather information without raising suspicion. As you stepped into the elevator, Leon swayed slightly, earning a disapproving glance from you. The elevator doors closed, and Leon muttered:

"I'll be fine. Let's just get this over with."

The doors opened to a corridor adorned with plush carpeting and dimmed lights. You and Leon maintained their cover, acting the part of the honeymooning couple as you two made your way down the hall. Just as the both of you reached the door to the suspected target's room, a sudden chill crept up Leon's spine.

A group of imposing figures, undoubtedly the target's security detail, emerged from the elevator behind you. Your eyes widened as you discreetly tugged on Leon's arm, directing his attention to the unexpected threat.

"Leon, we've got company," you whispered urgently.

“Well, sweetheart, you won’t like this” Leon said, turning himself to you.

“What-”

Before you could even speak, you felt his lips crushing against yours. Something about his kiss made you feel something inside your chest. The taste of alcohol mixed with mint, the way his tongue danced inside your mouth, it was something you never felt and tasted before.

Leon tilted your chin upward, creating the perfect illusion of a stolen moment between two infatuated lovers. The security guards, momentarily thrown off by the unexpected display, hesitated in their approach. You felt him break the kiss, your eyes meeting with a shared understanding.

“That was close” he whispers, holding your hand as you two walk together in the corridor.

But you were left without any words. His kiss caught you completely off guard and for some stupid reason, you felt your legs were failing you. Something about the way Leon's lips pressed against yours sparked an internal conflict. His kiss was not one of disdain; it was fervent, almost desperate. In that moment, the line between pretense and reality blurred, and you found yourself torn between the mission and your own conflicting emotions.

As you walked in silence next to him, the tension between you two became palpable. Leon, ever the professional, maintained his stoic expression, his eyes scanning the horizon for any potential threats, even with the hangover state. You, on the other hand, couldn't shake off the unease that accompanied you every step. You stole a glance at Leon, his features carved in light of the hallway.

Suddenly, the tranquility of the night shattered as a series of sharp cracks pierced the air. Bullets whizzed past you two, sparking against the cobblestone streets. You and Leon instinctively dove behind the cover of a wall as the realization hit — you two were the targets now.

"Move!" Leon shouted over the chaos, grabbing your arm and propelling you forward.

The rhythmic staccato of gunfire followed you two, echoing through the maze of narrow alleys. The assailants were relentless, shadows in pursuit, fueled by an unseen vendetta. You two sprinted through the labyrinthine corridors, your breaths mingling with the desperate echoes of your footfalls. Leon's mind raced, analyzing escape routes and potential hiding spots. You, feeling your heart pounding, cast glances over your shoulder, your instincts sharp as you matched Leon's every move.

The honeymoon facade shattered as the two agents sprinted down the corridor, bullets whizzing past the two of you. Panic and urgency replaced the hangover-induced haze in Leon's mind. You two reached a stairwell, taking it two steps at a time, the footsteps drowned out by the chaos unfolding behind you.

As you two burst onto a lower floor, you spotted an emergency exit. Without hesitation, you burst through the door, finding yourselves in a garden. The adrenaline-fueled escape continued through the green labyrinthine surrounding the hotel, leaving the luxurious facade behind as you and Leon navigated the maze, chased by both the consequences of the cover being blown and the remnants of the security detail.

It wasn’t supposed to happen like this.

Apparently, the said billionaire found out about the two of you, and now, Leon and you had to run somewhere else safe, leaving all your belongings in the hotel. There were gunshots everywhere, and you had to fight for your dear life, protecting you and Leon with a marble statue as a form of barricade to prevent being shot.

“This isn’t how I expected my honeymoon to be,” Leon muttered, shooting one of the security guards.

“This isn’t a honeymoon either,” you replied, firing your gun at the guard, killing him with a perfect headshot. “We are not even married”

“Well, this isn’t how I imagined it, anyway. We need to get out, Ms. Kennedy,” Leon said, offering his hand to you, which you took without thinking twice. You started to run, with Leon covering your back.

You could hear the security guards running after you, two more gunshots. Likewise, you ran for your life, not daring to look behind you, knowing Leon was right behind you, making sure you were protected, which was very odd, considering the history between the two of you.

At the moment, it's the last thing you're worried about. After a few minutes of running, you managed to escape the guards and find a place to hide. You were breathing heavily, and shaking.

“Are you okay?” Leon asks you, looking at the direction you two came from.

“Why do you care?” you simply replied, coughing a little as you tried to catch your breath.

“Do you think I don’t remember what I said last night? C’mon, I might be a drunk asshole, but I don’t forget things easily.” Leon glanced at you, which was more sympathetic than usual.

“This isn’t fair. You can’t say things like that after treating me like garbage for years,” you snapped at him, finally letting your feelings go without any shame. “You can’t say you love me, and the next day you can’t barely look at my face. You can’t say you love me when the only thing that comes from your mouth is hate and disgust. This isn’t fair, and you can’t play like that with me”

After saying that, you decided to walk yourself out and leave Leon alone. Who the hell did he think he was? He had no right to play with your feelings like that. You were so angry at him for throwing that on your shoulders with no responsibility.

Besides, you had important things to deal with, not his bullshit. Your hands were shaking like crazy, and you realized that you had no control over your feelings, and this was very dangerous, especially in your line of work. You needed to calm yourself down, and you needed to do it fast.

Hours later, everything was quiet. Leon was nowhere to be seen, because you didn’t notice when he went missing in the first place, and you couldn't care less about him. It was obviously a stupid idea to try to get back to the hotel, knowing it would be heavily secured after what happened earlier. But, somehow, you felt something very wrong.

The gunshot noises out there were exactly what you didn’t want to hear. You heard screams and loud voices, and immediately, your hand fell to your gun. You heard footsteps, and by the sound, you knew this person was supporting his body weight on his left leg, and was limping heavily. When you were about to attack, it was him.

“What the hell?” you gasped in shock, seeing him limping and, of course, injured.

“I tried to get our comms back” he whimpered almost quietly, as you helped him sit down. He was breathing heavily, his hand pressing tightly on his ribs. “But, as you can see, it didn’t go well.”

“And you say I'm reckless, right?” you muttered, trying to see the size of the damage on him, although he whined again. “You could've died in there, asshole”

“Now I understand why you do things this way,” Leon chuckles, but then he groans in pain, his grip on his ribs getting tight. “It’s way more fun”

“Fun? Are you out of your mind, Kennedy?” you snapped at him. If Leon wasn’t injured at the moment, you would definitely beat the living shit out of him. “I don’t do things like that for fun!”

“Keep your voice down, sweetheart. I don’t want to get back home inside a coffin,” Leon said, as he pressed his hand on your mouth to keep you quiet. In the sudden silence, you were able to hear more footsteps, and Leon kept pressing his hand on your mouth. A few minutes later, everything went silent again.

“I’m not… okay” he mutters, and his eyes meet yours. Blue like the ocean. And then, you finally see the blood spot on his shirt — the same spot he was trying to hide from you. “I’m sorry”

“I swear to God, if you dare to die on me, I’ll personally kill you, Kennedy,” you replied, and then you started to press his wound to prevent him from bleeding to a certain death.

But he smiled. It was a faint smile, but he was really smiling at you. You saw him raise his hand, and he touched your hair, moving the strands that fell on your face. The way he was looking at you, so sad and weak, it was like he was saying goodbye.

“You look so... beautiful.” His voice seems weak, and his breath starts to become more shallow. “I guess… this is what angels look like”

“C’mon, Leon, don’t you dare die on me,” you said as you noticed yourself getting more anxious by the second.

He smiled again and kept looking at you with those beautiful blue eyes. Slowly, he started to close his eyes, and his breath got more shallow, indicating he was losing consciousness. The more you tried to keep him awake, the more he seemed lost. You were slowly losing him.

“Condor One! Condor Two,” someone called you two. It was your squad.

“We’re here” you shouted at them, your hands filled with Leon’s blood as you waved at your squad. “He’s injured and losing a lot of blood”

“Don’t worry, we’re taking you two,” the leader said as the team approached you with medical equipment.

You couldn’t describe the stress you felt with everything that happened in the meantime. Did you two succeed in the mission? Was it over? You couldn’t know. Not until you were sure Leon was safe and sound.

From the helicopter, you could see the sirens, the local police, and the agents from the government. It was almost unbelievable, but it was true. The operation was a success, after all. You glanced at Leon. He was sleeping, or at least he seemed to be.

You tried to rest, but it seemed unreachable. Your body was electric, filled with constant energy that prevented you from closing your eyes. You wanted to sleep badly, but your concern about him was enough to keep you awake. When the helicopter finally landed at the hospital heliport, Leon was immediately taken into surgery. As for you, you had no other option but to wait.

Hours later, you had no news about him, and the anxiety was eating you alive from the inside. At this point, your body was less tense than before, and the first signs of stress and tiredness were finally showing up. You were sitting in a chair, in an empty white hallway, waiting. The hours seemed to slip through your fingers, slowly.

You sighted a kid playing with a purple teddy bear, and for a moment, you started to wonder about the life you led. The choices you made and how you ended up in your job. It was weird to think that while other people had normal lives, you had to risk yours every day, to make sure they would live in a safe world.

It sounded selfish to think like that, but you had every reason to do so since you couldn’t have a normal life. That word didn’t exist in your dictionary. Nor in your days.

Then, you see yourself playing with Leon’s mother's ring on your finger. For a brief moment, you imagined how your life would be if you were married and raising kids. Then, you push away these thoughts; motherhood isn’t your style, not even a married life.

“Ms. Kennedy?” you hear the doctor call you, and the sound of Leon’s surname addressed to you like you were his real wife makes your heart ache.

“Is he okay?” Your voice sounded more hoarse than you thought it would, a small consequence of being silent for so long. The look on the doctor’s face said there wasn’t good news.

“Your husband has lost a lot of blood, but we managed to stop the bleeding, and the surgery went well. Our main concern is with his brain injury…” The doctor pauses for a brief moment, wondering how to tell you the next news. “But, unfortunately, he’s in a coma.”

The news came at you like a violent wave. Suddenly, the world around you stopped, and you couldn't hear anything else. Your eyes were wide open, your chest was burning and aching, and for some stupid reason, you didn’t want to believe those words. How could Leon be in a coma? It was your thing to play reckless, he had no right to leave you like this.

You saw the doctor talking to you, but you couldn’t hear anything; everything around you was running slowly. What the hell was he saying? His lips moved slowly, just like the rest of the entire world, but you managed to understand: he was asking you if you were okay or if you needed something.

You felt like you were drowning, unable to reach the surface, surrounded by darkness. You wanted to scream and cry, but you couldn’t. You felt trapped by an invisible force, holding you tight and keeping you shut.

It was the sight of Chris that made you turn back to reality, and finally, the scream that was trapped in your throat came out from the core of your lungs.

“It’s okay, I got you,” Redfield said quickly as he held you before you fell to the ground. Your legs were shaking just like the rest of your body. “It’s okay”

“It was my fault, Chris.” Your voice was muffled by desperate chokes and sobs. “He’s in a coma, and it’s my fault”

“It’s not your fault, okay? It could’ve happened to you or him. Leon knows what he does, and I’m sure he did that to protect you" Chris tries his best to comfort you, although it seems impossible at the moment. He still holds you tight, for which you are very grateful, because you know you’ll fall if he lets you go.

Leon had no one in his life. You knew that the moment he told you about the ring. The “family” he had consisted of Chris and Claire, Jill, and Rebecca. You had no room for this. Leon made that pretty clear years ago, but now everything is different. You had to tell everyone what went wrong, how he got injured, and why it ended like that. You had to describe the entire mission, you had to remember everything. Now you were sitting again, with Claire holding your hand, while Jill and Chris were talking with Rebecca. Your eyes were locked on your hands, still stained with his blood. You were completely shocked, with no reaction or words.

“He’ll wake up, I know he will,” Claire whispers as a way to comfort you and give you kind words.

“He said he loves me,” you managed to say, although you doubted Claire would hear it. You wanted to hold onto something real, that would help you deal with what was happening.

“He always did, I’m glad he finally told you that,” Claire said, and you were a little surprised she heard you. More surprised to hear something you thought would never exist.

“But I don’t think that’s true. He always hated me.” You finally look at her, your eyes seeing something different from the dried blood in your hands.

“Do you think Leon is capable of hating you? He’s so in love with you, he can’t even hide it,” Claire said, and then she smiled largely while holding your hands.

But you find it hard to believe those words. Your mind was conflicted between what Claire was saying and what Leon said before he fainted. You wanted desperately to believe it, but deep down, you weren't sure. You finally received authorization to see him, with the benefit of being his “wife” and a government agent, but when you stepped inside his room, seeing all those loud machines around his body and a giant bandage on his ribs, his clothes were perfectly folded in the chair. His skin was pale and cold to the touch. He was almost lifeless, and seeing him like that made you sob again.

“I’m sorry… I never wanted to see you hurt,” you muttered, hoping he would hear it. You held his hand, praying he would wake up. “If you can hear me, then come back to us... I miss you fighting with me”

But there was nothing — not even a small squeeze on your hand. You were trying to convince yourself that he heard you and that he was coming back to you, and that was the lie you were desperately trying to believe. How silly you were. How desperate and pathetic you felt. It could be days, weeks, months, or years, how could you possibly predict when he would wake up? It was up to him.

“You won’t get rid of me that easily, Kennedy,” you said last, as a single tear fell from your eye. You wanted to be brave for him.

And as an answer, he squeezed your hand weakly.

Three months later.

“Goddammit, this hurts!” Leon groaned angrily at you when you tried to remove the bandage from his ribs to clean it.

“Stop moving, asshole,” you said back, glancing at him and then rolling your eyes. “Then it won’t hurt”

“You’re so fucking gentle,” he muttered, taking a deep breath. You waited until he stopped moving so you could change the bandage.

“Hey, I’m not the one with open wounds,” you teased him, then finished removing the bandage, being extra careful with the stitches on his skin.

“How does it look?” Leon asks with a soft voice. You noticed that he never actually looked at the wound.

“Terrible, but healing,” you smiled kindly at him, cleaning around the wound with the antiseptic and the wet cotton. You saw his skin chilling, and soft groans coming from his mouth.

Leon hated seeing his scars. He hated having them; he hated knowing what caused them, which was why he barely sees himself in the mirror; he avoids his own image. One month ago, Leon woke up from his coma, and although he was very confused, at first, due to his brain injury, he had no memories of the mission or what happened before he got hurt. Chris had to explain everything to him like he was a toddler learning how to communicate.

“So… that was it,” Chris tells him, after explaining why he was in a hospital bed with a huge wound on his ribs.

“Shit… I’m tired,” Leon muttered, closing his eyes for a moment and trying to relax his beaten-up body on the bed. “Two months?”

“Yep. You slept like a baby,” Chris chuckled, making fun of the situation to lighten up his mood.

“Where is…” Leon started, as it seems pretty obvious that you weren’t there with Chris.

“Oh…” The smile on Chris’s lips disappeared slowly, and he became more serious, sitting more appropriately on the chair. “Well, um…”

For some unknown reason, Leon was anxious. He didn’t know why, but he felt eager to know why you weren’t there with him; he was sure he heard you say you missed him fighting with you, but at this point, he wasn’t sure if it was a dream or reality. And the way Chris kept looking at him made his heart beat ten thousand times faster. When Chris was about to tell Leon about you, someone knocked on the door, and when the person came inside, Leon felt disappointed to see it was a nurse with his medication.

“Mr. Redfield, you’ll have to leave now. The visiting hour ended a few minutes ago, and the patient needs to rest,” the nurse says, leaving the tray with Leon’s medication on his bedside table. Leon sighed, glancing at the window, while he laid his head on his pillow to rest.

“Before I go… I want you to have this,” Chris said, getting closer to his bed with something in his hand. Leon glanced back, curious. When Chris opened his hand, Leon saw his mother’s ring, and he felt sad. “You know, she was here with you the entire time”

“Then why is she not here now?” Leon asks, holding the ring in his hand and avoiding Chris’s gaze.

“Give time to time,” Redfield said before leaving his room.

Leon hated being in the hospital with different wires connected to his body. Nurses checked on him constantly, asking a lot of questions, taking him through thousands of exams to see if he was doing better or worse, and doing physiotherapy. They said the brain injury had damaged his body, and, besides the wound on his ribs, Leon had broken his arm and would have a disability in walking and doing normal things. Of course, with the proper therapy, he would walk again and have a normal life, but he needed to cooperate.

Leon had already convinced himself you didn’t care, but on the third week after he woke up, he was taken into another exam. One hour later, when he came back to his room, he found you asleep on the chair, wrapped around your jumper, seeming tired to the bones. The nurse helped him lay back on his bed, and he remained silent, just watching you sleep. He wanted to keep every detail about you, even the small ones. Suddenly, you moved on the chair and woke up, yawning. Nothing he had rehearsed in his head prepared him for this moment.

He had given up on hope, he thought you would never see him again. Maybe you had found another partner, or maybe you had moved on with your life. Perhaps you just didn’t care about him. Maybe and more maybe…

"Hey,” you said, noticing he was too shocked to even pronounce a word. “How are you?”

“Fine, I guess,” he managed to say, and he wanted to punch himself because he sounded very rude. “That’s not what I meant…”

But, to his surprise, you just smiled. Chris told you about his amnesia, he told you that Leon wouldn’t be able to walk for a long time because of the damage to his brain from the injury. You were hoping he didn’t remember what happened before he fainted that day. It would be easier for both of you.

“I came here because Chris told me you woke up, I wasn’t in the country, so…” you said, feeling your cheeks blush a little. He nodded quietly, and the expression on his face told you he was sad. “I had to finish our last mission. Do you remember anything?”

“Not so much, everything is a little messed up, and every time I try to remember something, my head hurts,” he says, taking a deep breath and laying his head on the pillow again. “I remember me in front of your apartment telling you about our mission; I remember giving you my mother’s ring; and the fight we had at the airport… I remember a few things from the hotel we were at, but nothing more… Sometimes I have a few flashbacks. I remember getting hurt trying to get our comms back, breaking my arm, but..."

“It’s okay, don’t force yourself. You know you’ll remember eventually,” you said to him, trying to give some comfort. “You’re alive and recovering, that’s all that matters now, Leon”

“It sucks being here… I want to go home, but people keep telling me I’m better here and that medical bullshit,” he sighs, then he looks outside his window again.

“About that… I’m here to offer something,” you said to him, already thinking it would be a terrible idea.

“What would that be?” he asks you, raising both of his eyebrows in a slightly curious tone.

“Come live with me…” you simply said, shaking both of your shoulders like it was the most normal thing in the world. “Until you recover, of course”

At first, having him live with you proved to be a difficult task, mostly because Leon thought he was a burden and strongly avoided his appointments. In his head, he could treat himself alone, he could take care of his wounds and do the chores in the house. However, he could barely leave the bed, and he complained every time you tried to convince him to attend his appointments. Even Chris tried to coax him into getting out of the house, but Leon refused like a pampered kid. It was very difficult.

“You know I can’t do everything on my own, right?” you asked him after finishing changing and cleaning the wound on his rib.

“I know, but… I’m sorry,” he says with a deep sigh, looking at you with guilt. “I know I’m making this more difficult than it should be…”

“It’s not your fault, but I really need you to understand that sometimes even the toughest agent needs help. You can’t avoid medical care forever, Leon,” you said, looking straight into his eyes.

“I’m an asshole, right?” He managed to smile a little, then he looked at you. “I never thanked you for taking care of me”

“What can I say? You didn’t make things easier, either.” You smiled at him, looking into his blue eyes.

“I have something I need to tell you,” Leon whispers, then bites his lower lip and avoids your eyes.

“Shoot me”

“I… remember what happened… before the coma. I remember the mission,” he says, finally taking the courage to look into your eyes. You decided to stay calm, but not cold. “I was scared, I never thought I would almost die… but then you were there with me, and I felt at peace”

“Why did you give me your mother’s ring?” you decided to ask. You needed to understand.

“Because it was personal, I wanted you to have something personal from me… I knew one day I would come close to death trying to get your ass out of danger, and I thought you would feel better having something mine,” he explained, and then, everything made sense. He truly cared about you.

“You’re such a fucking idiot, Kennedy.” You smiled at him, then you laughed.

“Hey… what’s wrong? Are you okay?” you asked after knocking on his door. He glanced at you, his eyes swollen after crying for God knows how long.

This entire month that you took care of him was enough to learn how to read him. Before, he was pure mystery — the person who hated you the most. Now you know when he’s happy, angry, or uncomfortable. You know how to decipher him, read his face, and understand how he feels.

Leon still sleeps in the guest’s room, but sometimes you can hear him wince and cry, and sometimes you can hear him sobbing. You woke up to the sound of him crying and decided to finally ask. You had been wondering for weeks, thinking he wouldn’t talk about this subject. But you needed to try it, anyway.

“I… it’s nothing, I’m okay,” he said, quickly wiping the tears from his eyes.

“C’mon, you can talk to me. We’re friends now,” you say again, sitting on the edge of his bed and smiling.

“It’s just a silly nightmare…” Leon whispers softly, looking at his arm plaster. You had signed your name on it, followed by Chris, Claire, Jill, and Rebecca. “It’s Raccoon City. The same night over and over again”

“You were there? I’m surprised,” you said to him, and he smirked slightly.

“I was a rookie cop, late as hell on my first day. I had recently graduated from the Police Academy,” Leon explains, gazing at the ceiling, then at you again. “I survived that night, met Claire, saved Sherry… then, they forced me to work for them, and here I am”

“Forced? What do you mean?” You raised your eyebrows, confused.

“It was a deal I made to keep Sherry safe… I never told this to anyone,” Leon whispers, and you imagine how cruel it was for him to be forced to work all those years for the government. “How about you? How did you end up being an agent?”

“Before the government, I was in the army. Special Forces. I worked with Task 141 across the earth, until I decided to leave before things went to shit” you tell Leon, which makes him glance at you completely surprised. “I miss my buddies Price, Roach, Soap, and Ghost”

“It’s so weird to think how our lives were different… I was forced to join the government, you decided to do it for yourself…” Leon whispers, analyzing his own choices in life. “Now I can truly understand why you work the way you do…”

“I made a lot of bad choices, I’ll admit that. But after everything I did in the past… you actually get used to your own method of working,” you say to him, hugging your legs. “Maybe that’s why I do things the way I do. I like the adrenaline and danger that come with it”

“I’m sorry for calling you reckless,” Leon said after a brief moment of silence.

“That’s okay, trust me. I've heard worse things before,” you chuckled.

Leon seemed more calm, although his eyes were still red and swollen. You heard the first drops of rain hitting his window, and the noise of the lightning outside announced the rain. For a moment, there was only silence between the two of you.

“I hate this stupid arm plaster,” Leon suddenly says, and then you laugh.

“But there are our names signed on it. And I made a drawing when you were asleep” You showed him the drawing you made. It was a cat and a few flowers.

“Flowers? Really?” Leon frowned, glancing at you.

His last appointment provided good news. His ribs seemed to be healing, and soon he would be able to remove the arm plaster. After the appointment, you drove Leon to his physiotherapy session, and for the first time after he woke up from the coma, he finally decided to cooperate with himself. For some unknown reason, he wasn’t grumpy today.

“What? They’re cute!” you protested while laughing at his reaction. “But I’m serious, you need to sleep now. Tomorrow you have that physiotherapy session and an appointment”

“Well, if you keep doing home exercises, soon you’ll be fully recovered,” the doctor tells him, sitting in front of you two.

“Home exercises?” Leon asks, looking briefly at you, knowing you would definitely force him to do his exercises.

“Yes. It’ll help ease the pain and help with your mobility.” She nods, noting something on the paper. “And, most important, you can’t avoid your appointments, Mr. Kennedy”

“Yeah… I’ll keep coming,” he said, his entire face red as a tomato.

When you drove him back home, he certainly wasn’t expecting a surprise from your little family. Claire, Rebecca and Jill decorated your entire apartment, while Chris went to buy food and drinks. Because of the thousands of pills he was taking, Leon wasn’t allowed to drink any alcohol, which you gladly thanked him for. He was better sober than drunk.

The smile on his lips and the way his eyes were shining were more than he could put into words. You noticed that Claire even bought party letter decorations that were hanging from your ceiling, with the sentence ‘Happy Birthday, Leon’ in blue and yellow.

“Come on, you guys gotta be kidding me” he laughs with happiness, hugging everyone carefully.

“What? You really thought we would forget your birthday, golden boy?” you tease him, drinking soda and giving him one cup.

“This is… amazing” Leon seemed lost in his own words. “I don’t deserve you guys”

After singing him the birthday song, you guys celebrated his birthday with those blue birthday hats and a special cake the girls baked for him. Chris was talking to him, while you and Rebecca were chatting about types of coffee. Jill and Claire seemed to be very focused on their own conversation about TerraSave.

“Guys… I wanted to thank everyone. I know sometimes I’m a pain in the ass, but after everything that happened to me in the past three months, I have a lot to thank for… especially you.” Leon glances at you with shyness. “You took me into your home, took care of me, and had to hear every stupid joke I made, even my grumpy humor”

“That was the hard part, believe me,” you say, winking at him, which makes everyone laugh.

“I know. I was a jerk, and we had a lot of arguments with each other, but recently I found out that…” he paused for a moment, certainly thinking about what to say. “Life can be shitty sometimes, and bad things can happen to us… and this last mission made me see things I thought would never happen to me. I nearly died, but I got a second chance, and I don’t intend to waste it”

You knew exactly what he was talking about. Living with him for the past three months proved to be an interesting task. You knew him, and that was enough. Hours later, it was only you and him, sitting on your couch as the rain struck against the window. The fireplace gives off a warm temperature inside the living room, and, despite the silence, you two are more connected than before.

“I must say, there’s one thing I’m sure won't change,” Leon laughs, looking at his hands, after a long time of silence. “Being almost killed truly made me see things…”

“Such as?” You lifted your head to look at him.

“First, I actually never asked to be reassigned to another partner. I only told you that because I wanted to see how you would react” he said, looking at you. “And…”

“What's the second?” You laugh at his confession, mostly because you knew that a long time ago.

“The second is… I really hate the way that I love you”

[writing0305]

Something new.

Paring: Billy Butcher x F!Reader.

Summary: Billy has taken a liking to you since the day you joined the boys. You were just as taken with him. But neither of you acted on these feelings until Billy found you and Hughie on the couch, drunk and giggling while sitting far too close.

Warning: Heavy swearing. That's all, I think???

But despite that Butcher liked that you would go to the extremes, after a while he wouldn’t allow you to to the extremes anymore. He grew oddly protective over you. He wouldn’t allow you to take the big risks and whenever a mission grew risky, he’d either pull you out or stick you with him, so he could protect you.

The leader of the boys was oddly taken with you the second you joined the boys. Your brother had been killed by Homelander and you shared the same burning anger and need for vengeance as Butcher did. That’s one of the reasons he was so taken with you. Because you couldn’t draw the line either. You didn’t know when enough was enough either.

Everyone quickly got used to this new soft side Butcher showed you and you only. They didn’t care to question it, because he would absolutely rip into them for it. But it was often a topic of discussion around the boys.

You didn’t mind all the attention Butcher gave you. Because you were head over fucking heels in love with the man almost from the moment you met. Butcher was undeniably attractive and even his gruffness with others made you swoon because he was never like that with you. It was such a special feeling, knowing someone who hated fucking everyone, had a soft spot just for you.

But neither you nor Butcher ever acted on your feelings towards one another. Neither of you even acknowledges them out loud. Butcher wasn't sure if he’d ever act on them, still scarred from losing Becca. But one night changed his attitude and put an urgency on him to make you his.

You were in the basement of a laundromat, your new hideout with the boys after you became extremely wanted people by the police, the government, special forces, and Vaught. It was late and MM, Kamiko, and Frenchy had gone off to bed. You were sitting on the couch with Hughie, sharing a bottle of wine.

Butcher could hear your whispered voices and soft giggles as he stepped down into the dark basement. Only the screen of the TV gave a little light and he could see how unintentionally close you and Hughie sat together.

He flipped on the lights, quirking an eyebrow as both you and Hughie turned your heads to look at him. "What. the. fuck. is going on in er?" He questioned as he took slow strides towards you, his gaze flicking between you and Hughie.

Hughie offered Butcher a drunken smile. “Just having a chat.” He slurred as his head lulled to the side. “Did you know Y/n has…Y/n has never been on a rollercoaster?” he asked, letting out a soft burb followed by a giggle.

“Yeah,” Butcher replied with a curt nod of his head as he stared at Hughie before turning to you. “How much you gave him luv?” He questioned as he quirked an eyebrow, nodding towards Hughie.

You stifled a laugh as you shook your head. “Two glasses of wine.” You mused before turning to Hughie who still giggled. “Let’s get you to bed.” You said, slinking his arm around your shoulder. You grunted as you got up from the couch, pulling Hughie with you.

Butcher’s gaze silently watched you as you helped Hughie to the bedroom he shared with Frenchy The basement was small but at least there were three separate bedrooms. One for Hughie and Frenchy, MM and Butcher, and one for you and Kamiko. There was very little privacy in the basement.

You returned after managing to get Hughie in his bed and Butcher was still standing rooted to his spot, his fist clenched by his side. “You want a glass?” You asked as you went to sit down on the couch, grabbing the half-full wine bottle and holding it up.

“Nah,” he replied with a shake of his head as he slowly approached the couch, sitting down with a soft huff. "So, what's going on between you and Hughie recently?” He asked as he turned to you with quirked eyebrows. “You guys seem to have gotten close all of a sudden."  He muttered.

“Nothing’s going on between us.” You muttered softly with a shake of your head as you glanced at Butcher before taking a sip of wine straight from the bottle.

“Yeah?” He hummed softly as his eyebrows remained quirked. “Is that why you two were in er giggling like school girls with a crush?” He asked as he wiggled a finger around the sitting area of the basement. You could barely call it a living room.

You scoffed in amusement as you threw your head back against the couch, a smile playing on your lips. “We weren’t that bad.” You muttered as you shook your head.

“I could hear the bloody giggles from down the fuckin road.” He muttered and only then could you hear the bitterness in his voice.

Your eyebrows furrowed as your head tilted to look over at him. “What’s your problem?” You asked softly as you stared at him, confused by his attitude.

Butcher silently stared at you for a second before sighing, pursing his lips tightly. “You know, I’ll take that drink now luv.” He said as he held his hand out, motioning for you to hand him the bottle of wine.

You handed him the bottle, silently watching him as he took a few big gulps from the crimson liquid. “Butcher…what’s going on?” You asked him softly as you scooted a little closer, pulling your feet up onto the couch and pressing your knees against your chest.

Butcher sighed deeply at your question, his jaw clenching. “Your mother ain’t never taught you not to poke the fuckin hornets nest?” he questioned in a low voice as he shot you a side-eyed look before taking another gulp of the wine.

“Why are you being a cunt?” You asked as you raised your eyebrows, your head tilting to the side as your lips pulled into a thin line.

Butcher’s head snapped towards you. “Oi, where the fuck did you learn that?” he questioned as his eyes squinted at you.

You gave him a blank look as you slowly shook your head. “You.” You muttered as you stared at him.

He silently stared at you for a second before pouting out his lips. “Oh…right.” He uttered softly before taking another gulp of the wine.

You huffed softly as you reached out and took the bottle from him, putting it down on the crappy wooden coffee table in front of you. “So…why are you being a cunt?” You asked as you raised your eyebrows.

He huffed as well, staring ahead of himself as his jaw slightly clenched. “I ain’t bein' a cunt.” he muttered in a low voice.

“You are.” You argued as you nodded your head. You shifted a little closer, eyebrows furrowing and lips tugging into a frown. “Why to me?” You asked softly. Butcher was never like this with you. Never with you.

Butcher sighed softly, realizing you were right. He turned to face you, a frown tugging at his lips. “I ain’t mean to be one to you, luv.” He said softly as he shook his head, reaching out to pat your thigh in apology.

“Then tell me what’s going on?” You asked softly as your head tilted to the side again, your bottom lip slightly jutting out into a pout.

Butcher sighed deeply, reaching out for the wine and taking a few more gulps again. “You tell me what’s going on between you and Hughie.” He demanded as he pointed a finger toward you and then toward the door of Hughie’s shared bedroom.

“Me and Hughie?” You repeated in confusion before slowly shaking your head. “We’re just friends.” You insisted with a dismissive shrug of your shoulders.

He hummed as he nodded his head, raising his eyebrows at you. ”Oh are you now?” He questioned as he finished the last of the wine before tossing the bottle aside on the floor.

“The kid’s head over heels for Starlight.”You replied as a small smile tugged at your lips. What you would give to have the pure love Hughie and Annie shared. “No way in hell he’d ever be interested in me.” You scoffed with a shake of your head. You didn’t mind it though, your interests were elsewhere.

“Then he’s a dumb fuckin' cunt.” Butcher muttered softly as he shifted in his seat, leaning back on the couch with his head thrown back.

Your head shot towards him, eyebrows furrowing. “What?” You questioned softly, his words surprising and confusing you at the same time.

Butcher slowly turned his head to face you, offering you a small smile. “Anyone not interested in you luv, is a dumb cunt.” He repeated his words firmly as he kept eye contact with you.

You silently stared at him as his gaze diverted to the wall in front of him. You pursed your lips, your gaze remaining on him for a long while, not uttering a word for a while. You shifted in your seat, your head tilting to the side. “You?” You asked softly as you raised your eyebrows.

Butcher was silent for a second before his gaze met yours and he slowly shook your head. “Nah, I ain’t no dumb cunt.”  He replied.

Your heart skipped a slight beat as you stared at him. You gulped as you slowly nodded your head. “You’re not.” You muttered in regonizition. You were silent for another second before your head tilted to the side again. “So…it’s jealousy then?” You asked curiously.

Billy’s eyebrows furrowed as he looked at you in confusion for your comment. “What?” He questioned.

“Me and Hughie.” You replied softly as you nodded your head in the direction of Hughie’s shared room. “Are…you jealous?” You asked as an amused smile tugged at your lips.

Butcher stared at you before scoffing. “No.” He muttered with a shake of his head as his gaze diverted to the wall again and his eyebrows furrowed deeply.

You pursed your lips to hide your smile as you stared at him. Even after shifting closer to him so many times, there was still a lot of space between the two of you. You rolled your tongue over your teeth before letting your smile slip, the wine in your system kicking in and making you braver than usual. “Why don’t you come here and prove you’re not a dumb cunt?” You suggested.

Butcher’s head snapped towards you, his gaze darting around your face to see any sign of you pulling his leg. When he found none he let out a soft huff. “Fuckin hell.” he uttered before nearly launching towards you, grabbing onto your hair and tilting your head back as his lips pressed against yours in a hard and rough kiss. It was the start to something new between you and Butcher.

[incidentallysunny]

I Was Never There.

Death Island Leon x Reader

Real!Dad Leon

Dead dove warning.

13k word count. Proof read 3 times until I got to around 11k then I stopped worrying and just skimmed. Critique is welcomed and my skin is thick for it.

I’d like to appear in the tagz pls so here’s a warning. My writing is not ever meant to be taken literally and is just for the sake of writing f*cked up content that I enjoy writing. If you do not wish to read this, please do not as my intentions are not to offend or make you intentionally uncomfortable but if you choose to read- don’t be hateful. With that out of the way, extremely sensitive content and dead dove material ahead.

Specifically blood-related incest, smut, suicidal ideation, mentions of grotesque imagery, light mentions of gore in a hypothetical scenario, daddy-issues, age-gap, overall disturbing topics.

As far as smut specifically: this includes talking of public sex, mentions of oral, fingering, unprotected sex, cream-pie (wrap your willy irl pls) praise, dirty talk, any probably some other irrelevant shit I’m forgetting my b.

PROCEED if you read the above, are okay with it, and are mentally unwell like I am. Happy reading, it’s a long one.

The drive from your college town to where your home had been all your life was as expected. Nostalgia and homesickness being mixed in your gut like a can of paint in one of those weird machines at the hardware store that your dad would take you to. Speaking of dad, you hardly remember him. He was present for a short while, your mom always excusing his absence with work this and work that. He really did get busy, though. Almost dying several times. You still remember your moms panicked phone calls, her countless prescription drugs for the same problems you now suffer from, and her late-night bathroom breakdowns. Apparently he couldn’t get out of this job though. Some real fucked up government shit he was tied to, your mom explained. All you know about him is that he saved the president’s daughter. Whatever.

So yeah- a perfect life with a perfect set of parents. One being mentally driven through the dirt and the other that you haven’t seen in 8 years or maybe more. You can’t seem to remember if the last few times you saw your dad were daisied dreams or reality. Bastard has never FaceTimed or video called you, either. Dunno if he even had a phone capable of that. Either way, it must be for the better, because your grades had been sufficient without stressors on your mind. And we all know a low-effort dad would definitely be one. But perhaps he’d rather just be there in person. Older people are like that.

You grunted, trying to drag your over-packed suitcase up the steep suburban driveway before sighing and standing in place. Sure, you didn’t need to bring so much shit home, but would you really want to risk some bitch at college stealing anything from your quad-dorm?

Before you could think and figure out how you’d even get the plastic luggage up the pristine, hand-painted porch steps and inside (without scratching them up and having your parents on your ass about their perfect house having a flaw) a voice called out to you. Unrecognized and not ringing any of the bells in your head. (If there were any left)

“Hey there, sweetheart. It’s been a while, huh?”

You turned to see a middle-aged man, similar to the last memory of your dad that had been printing-pressed into your mind for safe keeping. He was just emerging from the front door, broad chest accentuated by a well-fitted T-shirt. You immediately felt angry that his tits were bigger than yours. Would probably look better with a bra, too.

You didn’t answer.

Fuck- nerves were getting the better of you. Your palms were slick with sweat and you didn’t know if it was from the building summer humidity or anxiety. Was this normal? No the fuck it wasn’t.

“Uhh.. dad?” You queried- almost certain the gorgeous man at the door was just a hotter, older version of your dad and not actually him. The fuck is wrong with you? You’re getting this worked up over your father? Did college drinking really rewire your brain to be this fucked or is it all of the anxiety meds? Maybe both. Maybe you’re just overwhelmed. Maybe it’s because you rarely saw him and have zero attachment.

“Yeah, it’s me. Your old man. Missed you, kiddo.” There’s a pause for a moment- because you’re not sure why he’s talking so casually as if you see each other every weekend- like it hasn’t been years and years since you’ve seen him.

“Don’t remember me,huh?” He laughs satirically- like you’re supposed to be so sure. It makes you slightly furious and the feeling of anger bubbles up again- replacing any strange thoughts you were having moments ago.

No, my apologies dearest dad. I totally recognize you despite having met you enough times to count on almost two hands.

But the better part of you that managed to exist underneath the scores of problems you had just replied in jest- like someone without said scores of problems. It was best to keep the peace for now.

“You look a little different… sorry.” Is that all you can manage? It’s pitiful the state that your sullied mind is in.

He chuckles, though, like he knows your’re right. The sound is more pleasant and striking when it’s genuine. Makes you feel damp in other areas than just your armpits (thank you, heatwave).

“I suppose there’s truth to that. But It’s alright, sweetheart. I know it’s been a long time. People change, right?” His eyes scan you in an undecided way.

“But you, shit. You’ve grown into such a beautiful woman. College treating you well?” His words sound a little huffed then, he’s clearly beating around the bigger issue with a stick. But him calling you beautiful and being all fucking sappy makes your face feel hot and sticky like it’ll melt off. Got you wanting to rip the hair from your scalp to hear him say it again.

“Please?” You called out gently- gesturing to the suitcase and ignoring any other question. You were very much overstimulated- having overexerted muscles in your arms by being a weak bitch about a crammed carry-on. Just get your ass out here and help your daughter, thanks.

He shook his head- again laughing hotly while looking down as he stepped off the porch- his brown bangs were peppered with greys and they brushed his face on one side, his hair somehow pornographic on its own. Christ. He looked like one of those men you saw on Viagra commercials that obviously didn’t actually need it. Even the sight of your perfectly trimmed lawn and faux-looking home completed the scene. Where was the camera?

He walked over to you- there was a slight stiff in his stride; like he had a bad back or something. Maybe he did. Almost dying was the likely cause for that. Serves him right for leaving you with issues on top of issues. Maybe you should stop being mean, you’re the one getting hot over your own father. Again- because of him. Circle back to square one.

Leon towered over your frame as he hinged at the hips, picking up the suitcase with ease- the muscles in his arm flexed with each small movement. His face was a tinge of smug with a mix of something else…satisfaction? Maybe he was just pleased he was able to lift it without rupturing a hernia. Jesus Christ, his veins. You wonder if he has them anywhere else. No- maybe you should be wondering about taking your ass to an inpatient facility immediately. A few screws are loose and you don’t exactly have the tools to tighten them.

“I guess college did treat you well. You’re here in one piece.” He says- cutting you thickly from your thoughts and answering his own question from earlier. His blue eyes are sweet and gently lined with signs of aging. Which only makes him hotter- just like the fiery pits of hell that await you.

You scoff.

“Well, it’s not like I went to war or something.”

“Still. It’s nice to see you, sweetheart.” The word rolls off his tongue again. Your insides are trapezing around in their own miniature, fleshy circus- you’re wishing you could stab yourself in the stomach to stop the swarm of butterflies that don’t even feel metaphorical anymore. You’re sure they’re real now.

He continues, though.

“I know I haven’t been around much in your life- this fucking job and-“ You stare up at him- glossy doe-eyes and stupid look on your face. An apology- or even an explanation from your daddy might be part of what your scrambled brain needs.

“Work kept me away, but that doesn’t mean I didn’t think about you every day. I’m sorry if I wasn’t there for you like I should have been. Shit… What I mean to say, is- things will be different. I’ve retired. Your mother wanted me to tell you over dinner later but I figured you’d be happy to know. I’m not the best at keeping secrets.” He jokes at the end, but how is that true in the slightest? He’s kept his job a secret for your entire life, so he clearly can’t be that horrible at it.

“Oh.” Leaves your lips quietly, ghosting over Leon and leaving him wondering if he said something wrong. But then he realizes it’s probably just overwhelming for you. The worst part of him thinks you hate him. A feeling overcomes you though, and you rush in to wrap your arms around his waist- hugging him tightly. You now wonder why he didn’t hug you to begin with. Maybe he wasn’t an affectionate guy.

He says nothing at first- he’s even more awkward than you are if it’s possible. But he’s trying. He sets down your suitcase before returning your hold. One arm comes around the back of you and the other is overlapped on top- a hand nestling on the back of your head. Seems he’s getting a bit emotional, too. The attention from him is nice, though.

When you make a small grunt as to wanting to end the hug, his hands linger on your shoulders and he smiles at you. You actually return to, not feeling anything horrid become of your thoughts right now. Whether it be anger or incestual lust.

—

Your dad pushes the front door open with one of his large hands encased on the knob. Hands you immediately find attractive, wondering if they’d feel nice scissoring your cunt open. You now begin to understand why your mom was getting suicidal over him possibly not returning home. You’d kill yourself over him too. But that’s too morbid- especially after the moment you just shared.

That’s already lost to you.

He shut the door firmly, sighing, then gestures to the stairs.

You went up first, self conscious about your backside being right in front of his view but he was your dad. Wouldn’t be looking at you that way. You’re just brain-rotted and have an ill opinion of men.

Your old bedroom still looked the same, basically. Just emptier and more hollow without your things. But the walls were still painted a babydoll-pink and lined with the few girlish decorations you left on the wall. No way you would have been caught dead with those in your dorm. Not unless you wanted to endure torment and bullying that’d lead you to jumping off the dormitory roof.

He sets your luggage down and takes a seat on your bed. A groan escapes him as he puts a hand on his lower back for a moment.

“I see this room hasn’t changed much, has it?” he muses, a fond smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “Your mom and I had a blast putting it together for you when she was pregnant.”

Yikes. You almost feel guilt for both the incestuous thoughts and the fact you may have ruined your parents' marriage. Maybe that’s not true. It was his work- not you. After all, he’s insinuating how happy they were to have you brought into this world. Plus- they were fine. Never argued or anything.

“I’m sorry. I dont- I don’t know what to say.” You laughed awkwardly, throwing your hands slightly up by your side.

His face doesn’t drop, though. It seems he understands perfectly fine.

“It’s okay. We can start from scratch. Not talk about… your room or childhood stuff. I know it’s a sore spot for you, sweetheart.”

Wrong. It’s more like a festering wound with the rusted knife still wedged in it. The knife being Leon and the wound your daddy issues, by the way. And having no attachment to him as a father figure makes the attraction worse. Notably when he calls you any term of endearment. He leans forward to rest his elbows on his knees.

What the fuck. Was he sculpted by Satan himself as some kind of hell-on-earth punishment? Is this purgatory? Everything he did now was driving you up the wall like a roach- every movement and small flex showing a vein or bulge of muscle. And his arm hair didn’t help. Fucking Christ- shave it off or something. You don’t know how you’ll be able to stand it.

“Okay…. How does that work?” You cocked your head to the side a little, shifting your weight onto one leg. A nervous habit.

“Well- what do most parents do with their kids? We could go out for dinner, catch a movie, just… hang out. I’d like to spend time with my daughter, you know.”

Okay, so maybe he did care. That’s a start.

“Uh… all three?” You questioned, an eyebrow lifting along with the infliction of your voice towards the end of your sentence. You’re indecisive like your mom.

He smiled, lines and the corners of his mouth pressed. Happy. Something you heard wasn’t common for him, anyways.

“Of course. We can go out tomorrow, honey. Your mom just wants us to all have dinner together when she gets home. She missed you- not as much as I did, I bet.” He does that stupid fucking wink again. It makes you switch emotions and want to throw something at his head. Maybe your lamp. You feel bad, It’s not his fault you’re acting like a mental freak about him. You don’t even bother to fixate on the fact you’ll have to have dinner with your cunt of a mom. Okay, maybe that’s harsh.

“Okay.” You breathe out, looking around your room. Leon takes that as a cue to stand up from your old bed- the thing creaking from his weight and leaving an indent on your comforter.

“It’s a date, then. I’m going to start dinner. As much as I love your mother, she can be…scary.” He says, still rocking that pressed-in-cheek smile and cracking your door closed behind him. By the way, what he really meant was probably ‘bitchy’- not scary. But dad seems too kind to say that. He loves your mom.

You can breathe again without his presence. It was smothering, like you had to overperform. You find yourself rushing to your dresser mirror to check how you looked. Hair looks great, face too- though a little tired from college over-studying and then driving 4 hours home with no break.

You might as well write ‘whore’ on your mirror with lipstick. Or a marker- since that’s a more permanent reminder with the way you’re acting. But part of you wanted to know what he thought of you- how he perceived you. For now though, it doesn’t matter. Had barely been 15 minutes since you arrived. You turn your attention to your suitcase and push it over flat, unzipping it before the teeth give out and some of your things spill from inside.

You had less than a sufficient amount of energy to care about it being broken now- so you just put your things away quickly before plopping onto the bed and indulging your senses with the smell of the floral detergent your mom always used on your sheets.

—

It’s some time later when you’re abruptly awoken by your moms manicured hand shaking you awake by the shoulder.

“I can’t believe you’re sleeping when you could be spending time with your father. He was excited for you to be home.”

‘Way to wake me up.’ You thought. She was always having a stick up her ass about this kind of thing. Or anything, really..

“I didn’t mean to fall asleep. Besides, we’re going out tomorrow to do a bunch of stuff.” You argue sleepily, sitting up as your back aches with your vision still adjusting. She cuts on the lamp, sizzling your retinas.

Her face perks up but is pleasantly surprised.

“Oh, okay..” silence.

“I’m sorry, honey. It was just a long day at work and I’m just over-the-moon for you two to finally have some daddy-daughter time.”

You wrinkle your face in disgust, but not fully disgust since you were just fawning over your hot dad earlier. Maybe daddy doesn’t sound so bad.

“Ew- mom. He’s just my dad. I’m not five.” She laughs, waving her hand off at you.

“Well anyhow- come down for dinner, will you? He put in a lot of effort to cook something for us.”

You cursed under your breath and straighten out your shirt- hoping she wouldn’t bitch about it being slightly wrinkled from you sleeping in it. You seat yourself at the table- adjacent from your mother sitting at the end. She’s already changed out of her office clothes and sure enough, here comes your daddy dad from the kitchen with utensils.

“Sorry ladies- almost forgot these.” He laughs, placing down everyone’s set before seating himself next to you. Fuck.

“You know- your father has only been home a few months and he’s already shown the extent of his memory loss.” She jokes, giving him a loving yet teasing look that makes you want to vomit. And yet jealousy curls up like a cat in your lap, wanting to be lavished with attention from you. The metaphorical jealousy pounces off your lap as you’re met with your dad’s hand on your denim-clad thigh. It’s an innocent gesture but you want to his hand to go further than just sitting politely.

“She’s right, but I can be useful otherwise.” He’s bantering back with her- and you realize he’s making an innuendo when you look over at his face. But it’s weird that he’s saying it while his digits cradle your thigh so gently.

“Gross.” You take a bite of your food- momentarily shocked that a dad of any sort could make such a pleasant meal, especially when he’s spent such little time doing domestic duties.

“Oh honey- you’re grown. We’re just teasing each other.” Your mom nods to Leon, taking a bite off of her fork. His hand slides off of your thigh and he grabs his whiskey glass to take a proper sip.

Jeez, he drinks that shit like its water. No grimacing. No face was made when he swallowed it. Just a guy thing you suppose.

Dinner drags on- the both of them forcing you to talk about your less-than-thrilling college experience. No mom, no boyfriend. No dad, I’m not failing. No you two, I’m not having unprotected sex- fuck off.

After that eventful meal and conversation where your parents basically eye-fucked each other over dinner, you’re left to clean up the mess while your mom gets ready for bed. She has to leave for work early in the morning- as usual. Guess she’s going to take your dad’s spot for the absent parent now that you’re grown and traumatized full and proper.

-

Sleep came and went- leaving you to trudge out of bed and do your morning routine. It felt out of place trying to do it back at home- but it was also a sentimental feeling to be doing just that.

Leon is already in the kitchen, shirtless and cooking. Seems impractical, but holy fuck. You’d gorilla glue your eyelids open just to not miss a single second of what you’re seeing. Maybe that wasn’t needed- because you've been staring long enough that your eyes prick with tears. You remind yourself to blink and you seat yourself at the high-top, the stool swiveling slightly when your bottom meets the material.

“Morning, sweetheart. Sleep well?” He asks, turning to look at you over his shoulder. His traps are distracting you. You want to chew your fingernails past the nail bed- bite a finger off too. You can’t stand it. For a moment- the way he talks to you- you’re pretending you’re not his daughter. And then a moment later, you’re not being delusional anymore.

“Mhm.” You mumble sleepily- wishing you’d have stayed in bed longer. But piercing morning light, lack of blackout curtains, and the chirping of birds outside made that idea inconceivable. Leon chuckled to himself- turned away from you.

You decide to scroll through your phone for a moment’s time before he slides a plate to you from across the island.

“Breakfast a la Leon.” He says- clearly being silly. Corny as fuck, anyways.

“You’re old.” You snort, setting aside your phone and grabbing a fork to pick at your food until he turns away again. You didn’t enjoy the idea of having a hot, shirtless man watching you eat.

He shakes his head, sitting down next to you at the island.

Christ. Fucking go away. It’s actually enraging now.

You want to scream at him- it’s irrational and crazy- but you do. Screaming at him and being sent away to a ward sounds more appealing than the anxiety crawling up your spine like a horde of fire ants. Potentially- just like the butterflies- they’re real too.

He seems undisturbed as he settles- taking a bite. You do the same- trying to ignore the fact he's so close you can nearly feel his arm hair touching you every second or so. He breaks the silence after a moment.

“So- after this, I’ve got a whole day planned out. Mall, movies, and dinner. Sound good?” You nod, a soft ‘mhm’ reverberating on the roof of your mouth.

He finishes before you and makes his way upstairs- the occasional pain in his back unmistakeable every few steps. And yet he wants to take you to the mall to walk around? You didn’t even know how to feel about a day with your dad. What’s a dad? What’s daddy-daughter bonding? That’s lost to you- well- more like it was never even discovered. Not even Columbus could have ventured out and conquered it.

Since he’s no longer in the room, you hastily eat the rest of your breakfast before you discard the plate and fork into the way-too-elaborate dishwasher your mom had installed (you totally didn’t spend 10 minutes trying to turn it on).

Back in your room, you settle on a simple, totally not underlyingly slutty outfit. Shorts and a crop top. Can never go wrong with that. It’s just soft/core prom enough for an outing with your dad. When you leave your room- Leon is just headed down the stairs. He turns to look at you, his smile is as jovial as it has been since you’ve seen him. For a moment though, you think you catch his eyes landing on your exposed legs- but you know you’re just crazy. You’re the one lusting after him, not the other way around. Your dad isn’t abnormal like you. His head is on correctly- even if it’s been battered and spun on his shoulders throughout the years.

“Ready?” He asks, stopping in place to wait for you. You nod stupidly, breaking from your trance to follow him in a descent down the stairs.

He’s dressed similar to how he was yesterday- jeans and a t-shirt that should be considered indecent. If you were your mom, you’d beg him to wear something that doesn’t highlight every curve and dip of his chest. Hell, if you were your mom, you’d never let him go outside. Too risky. But you’re not your mom. You’re just unusual.

As a perfect man does, he opens the door for you. Then opens the SUV door, allowing you in before shutting it behind. You’re sure you've never met a guy that does that in real life, but maybe it was a ‘you’ problem and not the guy. Who knows.

When he gets in, he cranks the vehicle only for rock music to start playing from the radio- making the corners of his mouth dimple with a pleased look. Really are the simple things for him. As for you, you’re suffocated in a Hellish torment by both his presence and the expensive scent of cologne and leather seats combo.

The ride isn’t long, nor bad. Albeit you two only talk here and there so he can focus on the road- and so you can focus on not dying (he’s not a perfect driver, but not terrible either). Just enough to keep your nerves teetering between a light anxiety attack and full blown panic.

You’re relieved to get there alive. Maybe not. Your thoughts have you thinking suicide may be your only option for now disgusting they are. And it only gets worse when he helps you down from the step up of the SUV- a hand on your exposed waist and the other on your shoulder. It’s harmless. Just a dad being gentlemanly. He was shaped and carved out in that perfect, chivalrous image with only a mallet and hammer. No reason to make it weird.

Inside the mall is a tad busy- the perfect amount to be comforting. You feel a bit more at ease in a public setting since you can now focus on anything but your dad’s chest. As long as he doesn’t require eye contact or talk to you, that is.

He looks around, arms crossed. It’s almost whorish. He has to know his arms look good. Or that his everything looks good. The fuck.

“So…” He cranes his head to the side, bangs brushing over his nose for a moment. The way he looks around makes his Adam’s apple and neck muscles a little more prominent. A perfect, stubbled spot to attack with your lips.

“What do you feel like doing first, kiddo?”

You. Is what you want to say.

He looks back to you, smiling down amused. He seems genuinely happy to be able to take you out. But really- his face is making you nauseous. Obviously not because it’s bad. But because it’s good-bad. Too good it’s bad.

“Uhh… “ you look away from him, scanning the entrance area and looking at any signs. Almost like an escape.

“How about new clothes maybe? Seems like something got ahold to the other half of your pants anyways.” He nudges you with an elbow, gesturing to your shorts with his head.

So he probably did look at your legs earlier. Maybe not in the way you think, though.

You glare at him.

“Seriously?”

Leon puts his hands up in defense. He’s always on the defense in life anyways.

“Joking, joking. You’re…grown.” His forehead lines crease when he raises his brows. You did get rather annoyed at his comment, however.

“I could always buy some even shorter.” You spit sarcastically.

“Yes- because every father wants to walk around with their daughter who has her ass out.” He’s quick to remark, this time he seems grumpier when he talks. Sorta like he’s uncomfortable with the conversation. Or that he’s mad.

“Sorry my legs make you so uncomfortable. I guess I should’ve left them at home.” The back and forth here could go on forever between you two but he catches you off guard.

“Shit- no. It’s not that- ‘s just you’ve got nice legs. Can’t have these…shitheads eying down my little girl. I may be old, but I can fight when I need to.”

You know he meant his words innocently enough, but the fact that he said nice legs has you giddy inside. Same feeling when your crush calls you pretty. Yeah- that sorta feeling. And his little girl. It has a ring to it. Could even legally change your name to it so that he can call you by it more often. Maybe he’ll even let you jump on his dick right away.

Your face is pure rose-shaded. A perfect, neutral shade to make your embarrassment pop on your skin. You’re sure it’s visible to him, too. Your mom always teased you about how blotchy it would get when you were humiliated. Particularly when she would tell awkward stories about you at family dinners. Bitch.

“What’s wrong? Don’t be pissed at me, sweetheart. I was just teasin-“

“It’s not that.” You interrupt- heart thumping into your rib cage. If it doesn’t stop, or you don’t stop your word-vomit, it might crack a rib or four. Probably more. Better have hospital bill and therapy money ready, dad.

“Then what’s the matter? I just want us to have a good time together. I’m not trying to upset y-“

“You said I have nice legs.” You’re quick to cut him off again.

“And…?” He trails off, cocking his head to the side like he’s confused. Because he is confused. You stare off to the side- eyes glued to the fountain. Maybe you could go drown yourself in the penny-flavored water that you guarantee hasn’t been changed out since you were still the unlucky sperm in your dad’s ball-sack.

“I like that. You saying that.” You speak a little lower now- afraid someone will hear. Or because the tinnitus is so loud in your ears. What you’re getting at is almost clear now. Or at least clear enough.

Leon’s expression is taken aback but still confused to an extent because he’s not even certain what you’re saying. Though, he has an idea.

“Oh- uh. Okay. Sweethea-“

“Holy fuck- stop calling me that. You’re not making this easy. Wanting to fuck you. I know- I sound mental.” You spill it out, guts on the floor and the sword still in hand. Holy shit. Just told your dad you want to fuck him. You could have backtracked- fucking dumbass. You won’t be shocked if he packs his bags and leaves off again tomorrow.

He’s silent for a moment.

“Okay- clearly I wasn’t around enough. I get that. But I mean- fuck.” He runs his hand through his hair, looking around. Probably thinking the same thing about the fountain that you did. Still- he looked hot while having a crisis and contemplating immediate suicide. He paces while your nerves are being electrocuted in your body. Why couldn’t you just be normal?

“Just- sweetheart, no. None of that’s.. I can’t.” He starts, turning back to you. It seems he can look you in the eyes now. So maybe he’s not entirely disgusted by you. His face isn’t contorted with disgust, so there’s a chance. Yeah, you’re off your rocker now. You know.

“Look- let’s not talk about this. C’mon. Let’s go catch a movie like I promised.” He starts walking- leaving you standing in a puddle of shame and embarrassment for a moment before stopping to let you catch up.

Luckily- the theater is joined to the mall. It’ll be a short walk.

—

Leon is lax on the couch until he hears the crunchy sound of tires on concrete. You’re home. Despite his shitty back, he's huffing as he gets up fast and is already opening the door. The air is hot as it greets his skin and he watches you struggle with your suitcase through the heat-haze that spans over the distance.

He calls out to you- making your head snap in his direction. Your face is that of awe and confusion. You don’t seem to immediately recognize him- okay. He gets it. It’s been a while. Nevertheless, you’re beautiful. He’d seen pictures of you from your mother, but he’s in awe just as you are. Though, he doesn’t think that highly of himself so he often wonders if you’re even his kid. Couldn’t have made something that perfect, in his mind. He helps you with your bag and follows you to your room. But your demeanor around him is noticeably mousey. At first, it doesn't seem like much. You’re just getting used to him.

Plus, Leon knows he can come off intimidating. Sometimes. But for him, he’s got a good eye and his job has led him to being able to read even the tiniest bits of body language. Doesn’t take him long to see how you’re worming around shyly- subconsciously smoothing your hair down and biting at your lip. Same way your mom acted around him before they started dating. But again- maybe it’s just in his head. Leon’s been wrong a time or two.

A better man would have left it alone. Leon gets that. But an innocent thigh squeeze at dinner can help him test his theory. A thigh squeeze that’s under the guise of friendly, fatherly touch. You tense- he can hear your small, sucked in breaths as long as his hand is there, along with heat radiating off your body like a wildfire. If wildfires could be horny college-aged daughters with daddy issues, that is.

The idea disgusts him. Because he should feel disgusted and just kill himself. Where did these thoughts come from? He even has the urge to let his hand wander other places. Bets that you have a cute pussy. No matter what it does or doesn’t look like, it’s yours and he knows it's cute. He’d give you two thick digits in your hole (three if you allow him) and have his tongue kitten-lick your clit.

“There we go. Good girl.” Is what he envisions saying before diving back in for a mouth full of you. Girls like you love being praised. Especially by their estranged father-figure or a middle aged man. It’s all the same. He’d pry the daddy issues right out of you with his dick. It’s long and fat enough, and solves all of his matters properly. Your mom is in a bad mood? His dick will fix that. He can’t sleep? His dick will fix that. His daughter is a horny freak and begging for it? His dick will fix that, too- obviously.

It’s only when your mom makes some stupid fucking joke about his memory loss that he snaps back into reality and he loses the momentum he had going for an erection. Which is good. Maybe thinking about fucking your mom will make him normal again. So he drops a quip right back- something about… being useful. Yeah. Again, his cock is useful. Your mom bites at his words, but you’re annoyed and disgusted with his comment- especially with his hand on you while he says it.

Trust me, baby. Much rather be splitting you open than having performative, mandatory spousal sex. It’s like a switch flipped. He’s not interested in your mom. Should’ve had that realization years ago, even. Technically he did. He’s just now saying it in his head finally. Mostly he was exhausted because she had nothing to do with Leon even when he was home (unless it was for dick). Too bad he was a golden retriever following after her every step like a good doggy. Marriage did that to a guy. He just did what he was supposed to. Kept the lights on, blew out her back occasionally, listened to her complain, and took care of the lawn when he could. Easy enough. That’s what men do, right? He doesn’t really know what being a man is, honestly. Thanks, Major Krauser. Anyhow- he chokes down his food with a smile. The need to upchuck after everything he just thought up is a given.

He takes the liberty to fuck your mom later that night as promised per (faux) flirting over dinner. He has her face down-ass up, though. For… imagination’s sake. At least fucking a pussy and imagining you is better than his hand and imagining you. Or so he tells himself. Call it killing two birds with one stone, satisfying your mom and quelling his own desires. And it’s not hard to imagine any of it, because you look so much like your mother. He lies awake for a short while after- contemplating his existence and fucked up thoughts. He’s still holding back vomit and the urge to grab his gun from the nightstand and off himself all over the wallpaper, while in the process, traumatizing your mom. After an hour of this- he figures it’s fine, men think of perverted or weird shit sometimes. Jerk off to weird shit too. He hasn’t technically done anything morally wrong… sort of. It’s denial. At least he’s good at playing the part of a genuine, loving father. Because he is! He loves his family. Always has!

Spending time with you would make you happy, him happy, your mom happy. He loves you dearly. All is great. He’s swearing that his brain won’t be smoothied in his skull by tomorrow. It’ll be normal and function rationally.

But Leon wakes up with the thoughts being real as ever while he stretches an arm out to feel around for your mother- bed empty since she leaves at the ass crack of dawn. Leon had just missed her leave, he’s still getting used to sleeping in ever since he retired.

He gets up and heads downstairs- immediately starting breakfast to take his mind off his…mind. Breakfast is his favorite meal of the day, it makes him feel better to indulge in it right now. Though, he doesn’t bother putting a shirt on at any point- just rocking those generic, green and blue tartan patterned pajama pants. Cooking shirtless is weird- but he’s hungry and part of him wonders if he’ll get to see your priceless face when you walk into the kitchen. He shakes his head- telling himself that he just had this talk with himself last night. None of that shit.

He was right about one thing. God, he could make a killing in betting. He sees your reflection behind him in the small window above the counter but you didn’t know that. Just stood, gawking. It’s okay. He’s observative, you’re not. You’re his dumb little girl. Dumb in the way you shift in your stool next to him when he sits down, dumb how you hold your breath when he’s near, dumb how you can’t even eat next to him, and dumb how your thighs seem to wriggle when his arm ‘accidentally’ brushes yours. Oh, he’s definitely not wrong.

Still- he knows when to back off. He hounds down his food, before you even make a dent in your plate, and heads upstairs to shower. He’s analyzing every detail of himself, contemplating how he can get under your skin the most- his knuckles gripping the sink with distaste for himself. Because it’s wrong. He’s acting like a teenager. This is a date with his daughter, not his highschool girlfriend.

Leon skips over shaving his face. Likes to keep it a little grown out but not too much so. Just in case he gets the chance to eat (your) pussy or kiss (your) a neck. Then comes the Dior ‘Sauvage’ body wash he never failed to keep with him. He takes pride in smelling good if anything. And this particularly expensive wash, plus the cologne, was his lifeline for that. When he traveled for work- the D.S.O. better have god damned had some sent to his room as courtesy. Ever since Raccoon City- he’s adamant about not smelling less than great. He swears he can still smell the sewer on himself sometimes, even if it’s not really there.

His hair routine was even more extensive and involved a weekly hair mask. Hey- it wasn’t wrong for a guy to have nice hair. It paid off.

Heat protectant, blow dry, hot-comb to get any cow licks or fly-aways he might have- though it’s unlikely- and a little spritz of biotin spray to keep it healthy and shiny. All of that in reasonable time, too. And no- it's not weird for him to spend longer on his hair than your mom does.

Besides, you seem to appreciate the way he looks when you come out of your bedroom- watching him descend the stairs. Leon looks back at you- eyes on your legs momentarily then coming back up. He knows it was a quick look- quick enough to make you question it. You do. Very much. Still, taking you out in public wearing those shorts is less than ideal for him, but he’s the one who needs to be watched closely. Aforementioned, Leon’s great at pretending. Pretending to be normal. Pretending to not have ulterior motives. Pretending to not want your legs on his shoulders as he-

“All ready?” He interrupts himself here. Can’t let his thoughts keep going too far. Even if he does want to rest a hand on your leg while he drives. Or veer off the road and into a tree so that he can’t continue to be disgusting. He’d die with the image of being a good, wholesome dad in everyone’s mind. And if you did or didn’t die too, at least you would have died not having been fucked silly by your old man. He manages to not kill you both, though. He wasn’t planning to- his driving is just ass. He knows whiskey with his breakfast isn’t ideal but when you’re a recovering alcoholic plus post traumatic stressed failure of a father, it helps.

Can’t complain though since he gets to put his hands on you while helping you out of the vehicle.

Now you’re both in the mall- Leon questioning what exactly he’s supposed to do now. He hasn’t been to one since… he doesn’t have enough fingers for that. But you’re seemingly calm. Until he makes a stupid joke about your shorts. Sure. As much as he’s thinking about ripping a hole in the crotch to fuck you cause he’s impatient and stupid- he said it out of genuine concern.

He still has fatherly instinct. Some sick bastard could get a glimpse of your exposed legs and go jerk off to it or take a photo. Ironic coming from him right now. The call is coming from inside the house but the dad is too busy fiending after his own daughter to answer.

You’re royally pissed. He knows it. Women don’t like having it insinuated that they’re dressed like a whore. Big whoop, though. Someone has to say it. Then you blindside him. Big, needy eyes and saying you like it when he tells you your legs are nice. Then something about how you want to fuck him. Christ. What the fuck. He’s not sure if this is some kind of screwy set-up or you’re actually just so slutty that the only dick you’ll accept is your dad’s. He’s rocking a semi now. Would be a full hard-on if he weren’t in public but his head spins cause all the blood went to his loins too fast.

Leon doesn’t accept the advances yet. Not now, anyways. He’s mortified. He really thought he had himself going in delusion about how you were behaving- but he was actually right. And now being confronted with it… he’s fucking scared - that’s for sure. Hmm. Be a morally acceptable human or fuck your needy, whore daughter silly? He shakes his head and lets out an exhale.

That question needs some thought. No, it doesn’t. He knows better than to do any of that shit, right? He takes a moment to start walking while you follow along shamefully- the two of you headed to the theater. A movie is perfect. Don’t have to talk or anything. No interacting, really. But how the fuck is he just going to forget what you said? Sure, he’s been having questionable thoughts but they’re just thoughts. Your words, however, spoke it into existence. Like a fucked up, frankenstein’s monster of father-daughter reality.

Don’t mind us, everyone. Daughter’s got it real bad for me but I’m just going to take her to the movies and pretend it’s normal. Reality was distorted for him ever since the existence of zombies and BOWs anyway.

He lets you pick the movie- telling the attendant that he needs two tickets. It’s a horror movie. Of course. Something to trigger his PTSD, maybe. Then he could say anything he did after that was just accidental. A mental slip. He goes to fork over the $60 for tickets and popcorn- god, when did shit get so expensive? As he’s pulling out the cash, he sees you give him a look like you want to say something. His mind is racing looking at you- it makes him nervous.

“Uh.. what about candy?” You ask, looking away from him and at the display.

“What? Sour worms?” He questions you, laughing. Not in a mean way- but because it’s your favorite. So insignificant but he remembers. You were still a kid when he and your mom took you to see some milked out children’s movie that was a part of an entirely too long series. He bought you two boxes of sour worms then. You were a weird kid, though. The worms were split into two colors, and you’d always bite them down the middle and make him eat the side you didn’t like. But he’d do it. Gladly.

You nod, a little befuddled that he’d remember something like that. Cute. Too bad your weird ass just told him you wanted to fuck him about 15 minutes ago. So not entirely a cute moment.

“Oh- and two boxes of Sour Worms, please.” He adds, now pulling out a little more cash.

You both respectively grab your own drinks- Leon with popcorn in tow and you, your worms and cherry soda. His hands are full but he manages to flash the movie ticket between his index and middle finger to the usher, who then ripped it in half and pointed to the left end of the hallway.

You both don’t say anything, but you immediately race to the very top row like a child once inside the screening. Leon swears under his breath as he follows you like a geriatric snail. If a snail could have lumbar issues. He’s able to make it up the stairs to you quite some time after and takes the seat next to you that’s closest to the aisle. Safety and all that jazz.

Previews are already playing so it gives him peace of mind to not address the awkwardness between the two of you. Your soda is in the cup holder that’s separating you both, but you lean over to take a sip, cheeks hollowed out while you drink. Of course Leon looks over, fuck.

Pretty little lips wrapped around the straw until you pull off of it with a satisfied sigh. Cause you were thirsty from anxiety- like someone shoved gauze and cotton into your mouth.

He shifts in his seat and looks back at the screen. He doesn’t even know if you’re doing it on purpose. You’re not, however. He’s just a perverted dickhead.

Time passes and not a single soul has come into this screening. It’s Monday at 11am, after all. Who the hell would come watch a horror movie at this time? No one except two fucking weirdos. It’s making Leon’s nails dig into the armrest with the other set scratching at his jeans.

The movie doesn’t start off bad, to Leon’s shock. He’s actually enjoying it and you seem just as entranced, pulling open the box of Sour Worms without looking down. You do wind up looking down, however, to bite one in half because it just so happened to be a blue and orange combo, and you hated the orange side.

“Here.” Leon turns to look at you- your eyes coming up to meet his blue ones that are oddly blue enough to the point that any light from the screen makes them pop. Pretty.

“The orange half. I know you don’t like them.” His voice is husky and low since the speakers are blaring some generic string-quartet horror piece. He nods down to the half chewed candy in your palm.

You pinch it between your fingers, bringing it to his mouth as your cunt throbs. He was expecting you to hand it to him, but the way you confidentially yet instinctively brought it to his lips isn’t entirely unwelcome. The emptiness of the theater makes it that way. Allows room for incest of whatever. He opens his mouth for you, and you go to place the sour treat on his tongue. His lips gently close around it, before he grabs your wrist to hold your arm in place. A hold gentle enough to tell you that if you want to snatch your hand away- feel free to do so. But you don’t. And you won’t. He knows.

Candy in cheek, he brings your fingers to his lips and nurses your knuckles with a kiss before puppeteering your hand with his larger one, working each digit so that he can equally suck each one clean. You’re amazed, aroused, and alarmed all at the same time. Amazed because he looks so gorgeous sucking on your fingers. Aroused for the obvious reason. Alarmed because duh, he’s your father and things can only go further from here.

Leon places your hand back onto the arm rest between you, chewing the halved sour worm now. As if he didn’t just give you the most visually appealing form of sexual affection in the history of womankind. The dryness of your mouth returns and you take another sip of your Cherry soda. Maybe you can drown yourself in it. No, stupid. That’s what the public bathroom toilets are for.

Right before you set the plastic cup into the cupholder again, Leon speaks.

“Ah, ah. Put it over there.” You don’t even hesitate to listen. Record timing for you doing anything. You don’t even know why you followed his instructions so quick.

“Good girl.” His words send lightning of excitement down your nerves and straight to your clit as he pushes the armrest between you upwards and out of the way. Because that’s a thing, for some reason. It’s like theaters want people to fuck, give head, and spread their diseases everywhere. And why does he know they move? You don’t even want to question it. Maybe he’s just a knowledgeable guy.

“Come here, honey. Let daddy kiss that pretty mouth.” Fucking Christ. This can’t be real. Doesn’t matter, ‘cause again, there’s zero hesitation on your part. Leon likes that. A woman that can follow orders. He’s so used to taking them, not giving them. And your mom isn’t one to listen to other people. Either way, if this goes south, Leon can always just off himself. He wasn’t around much so what difference would it make if he was permanently gone? The reassurance of being able to log out forever gives him courage here. It’s rational.

You scoot over since you’re free from any barriers or restrictions, and he puts an arm over you. You swear you almost hear your skin sizzle from the contact. You’re not a witch- and as far as you know, he’s not water. Even if he gets you wet. He brings a hand up to cup your cheek and swipe a thumb over your bottom lip- teasing you.

“D-dad.” You stutter a protest- cringing that you sounded the way you did just now. Maybe you shouldn’t be embarrassed ‘cause he’s your dad- but you are embarrassed ‘cause he’s hot. You can’t even figure out why you wanna back out suddenly. Probably because the idea was better than betraying your mom and knowing yourself as someone who fucks their dad. Anywho- didn’t he say something about kissing you? Cause he’s not even doing as promised.

Your dad leans in, his free hand is now on your neck and angling it just to show you how easy he can manhandle your body. He plants a kiss on your earlobe before saying anything.

“What’s wrong, baby? Can’t go giving daddy blue-balls now. It’s not polite to start things you don’t wanna finish.”

Leon’s words simultaneously gross you out and turn you on in a self-deprecating, disgusting kind of way. Not to mention he’s literally contradicting himself since he would gladly eat the half of the sour worms you didn’t want to finish- therefore entirely enabling you to start things you couldn’t finish. Hm. That must explain a large portion of your life, then. And besides all do that, doesn’t the know blue-balls is some kinda stupid myth or whatever?

His thumb falls down your lip and traces your jawline with intentional slowness while his eyes look over your face appreciatively- but it also seems as if he’s looking for or at something specific.

You get the courage to speak, air sucked fully into your lungs.

“Sorry, daddy.” The fuck is wrong with you? You could have said anything but that. It’ll only spur him on. But you want that, obviously.

He smirks, lips pressed together as the corners of his mouth do that same, pitted thing they do that you like so much. Must go hand in hand with how his chin is also dimpled. It’s sexy. But little do you know, it’s one of the reasons he keeps his stubble. Doesn’t feel like having his butt chin on display to the world- even if every woman that’s ever laid eye on him sees it and wants it buried in their cunt.

“That’s my girl. Didn’t even have to be around much to teach you that, did I?” Leon queries, grabbing your chin to crane your head just so that he can plant his lips onto your neck. His other hand is on your knee, unmoving. You want it to move, though. God- you’re sure whatever higher power is in the great sky is throwing up right now, moments away from pressing the reset button. The same higher power will make a new rule on humanity.

No free will and absolutely no incest. Yeah. Probably should have written that into the books ages ago, one fears.

You fidget as he kisses your neck, stubble scratching your epidermis yet tickling all the same.

“Not gonna answer me, sweetheart?” He murmurs against your throat, the neck kiss he gives it uses a bit of tongue- making your body jolt. “I know your mother taught you manners.”’

You mumble something pathetically apologetic, hands gripping the fabric over his shoulders. Hopefully your mom won’t notice his shirt being stretched out there- cause she notices everything.

“N-no, daddy. I knew it on my own.” You huff, that hand you wanted him to move is slowly doing so- fingers dragging along your inner thigh as if everything he’s doing to you is purposefully meant to be some kind of forewarning. But for what, exactly?

“Such a smart girl. Get that from daddy, you know it?” Ok, cocky…

Leon kisses his way back up your neck, jawbone, and then your cheek. It’s sweet- if being lavished with saccharine, sexual and inappropriate attention from your dad could be sweet.

You nod, feeling his grip loosen from your chin and now sliding up the back of your neck to tangle in your hair, threading it. He’s slow and deliberate- part of you wishes he’d not give you time to think about your actions. Not that you can really think anyways. Your heartbeat is muddled in your ears and the movie is still rumbling through the speakers while someone gets murdered on screen. Lucky them.

The hand on your thigh presses firmer into the skin just below the edge of your shorts, a silent telling for you to keep your attention on him.

“Sorry baby, daddy got distracted. Just so pretty.” He must be able to tell you’re impatient because he kisses your cheek (with an oddly dark undertone to it) before slimming the distance between your lips. He pauses right when they touch and you’re breathing in the taste-turned-scent of the sour worm you fed him earlier. Sugar and that weird orange flavor that is only specific to orange candy. You’re obviously not a fan, but it suits him.

You don’t get any time left to process before it’s a full on kiss- well, make out, actually. It’s slow. You can’t recall being kissed like this, ever. Normally it’s straight to tongue with guys, and not in, like, the good way. The ‘having an eel invading your oral cavity’ kind of way. Eugh.

But your dad’s tongue does brush yours, tastefully. You can actually feel the texture and it’s easy to tell there’s an erection fueling his actions- but not so much so that it takes over the whole kiss.

He uses your hair to pull you closer, teeth clashing momentarily. Not exactly the best feeling but everything else envelops your senses to the point that it’s only a flash of a moment. Your thigh is neglected by his touch, hand moving up and around onto your backside. He gives a squeeze to the fat of your ass and groans against your mouth before pulling you into his lap- legs folded on either side of his thighs.

You break the kiss, looking over your shoulder and to where the entrance is- the exit sign casting a nearby glow that gives you anxiety..

“Can’t- we’ll get caught.” You pant, that weird feeling that’s the grotesque love child of nervousness and excitement is swimming in your gut like a parasite before settling. The severity and realness of the situation sinks in.

Leon laughs low and mean, retracting his hand from your hair and moving to run it through the top of your scalp to push it back. He juts his hips upwards to prod his denimed erection into the cunt of your shorts. You mewl quietly, or maybe it was loud. The movie is just too deafening to distinguish which.

“Suppose you’re right, baby.” He tucks a loose strand behind your ear, leaning in to give you a light peck on the lips. “Told you you’re a smart girl, didn’t I? Can’t let me go around thinking with my dick, huh?”

His hand pats your thigh as if to tell you to get off.

“C’mon, sweetheart. Up.” He commands you with a huffed voice- not because he’s annoyed but because he’s a middle-aged man. Moving is hard. You ignominiously climb off of his lap, putting your bottom back onto the seat next to him. He’s looking at you, meandering a hand back onto your thigh just to rest in place.

You stare at the screen- but you can’t even register it because you’re too disassociated from what just happened. You almost want to beg him to fuck you right here- plead for forgiveness that you suggested stopping in the first place. And you can still taste that damned orange sour worm in your mouth.

Leon behaves, though. He’s good about that. Respectful. In the way of consent- not in the way of not tongue fucking his daughter in a public space. When the movie ends, he gestures for you to stand and you walk past him, carrying your empty cup and boxes of sour worms while the uncomfortable feeling of your slick clinging the gusset of your panties to your cunt. You look back at your father, the sight of him in the palely lit theater is a bit intimidating. He’s adjusting his pants for obvious reasons. You look away quickly and keep walking- a giddy feeling of satisfaction overcoming you. Shortly enough, you’re both back in the main area of the mall. You brush your shirt out and fix your hair- the thought occurs to you that maybe you look a little mussed and should have straightened up sooner.

But the daylight beaming through the sky roof brings you back to your senses.

“Hmm. What does my sweet girl want to get up to now?” Leon asks, intersecting his arms as he looks over you.

You think, mind fizzling as it short circuits. You almost smell smoke emanating from your head, too. How can you look him in the face right now?

“Uhh..” You really don’t know what to say. What can you focus on doing after everything that’s happened today?

“How about this? We can go home a little early and I’ll cook something up for lunch. The drive will give us time to work up an appetite.” He says, nonchalant. Right back to his same fatherly tone from earlier today instead of the ‘I want to split you open with my dick’ tone he had moments ago. Maybe he’s just being sweet and you’re overthinking.

You’re befuddled that he’s not saying anything else about… that. How can he so easily go from publicly groping you to acting cheery and normal? It’s frustrating. Disturbing even. Leon can see the disappointment on your face- but you don’t know that. You assume it’s well hidden, just like the fact you kissed your own father. He thinks it’s cute though. You’re just cock dumb for him. On the other hand, this whole situation is something he has to deal with.

“Got it.” You manage to say, walking a little faster than he does. This is the second time you’ve walked off from your dad, and it does irritate him because he can’t keep up like he used to. Displaced disc in his spine or whatever. Plus, he thinks you’re pissed. Which is worrying. Should have known better than to mess around with his own daughter, he supposes.

The drive back is silent and less terrifying than the previous, part of you thankful. Maybe he was only a bad driver in the morning. Unlikely, but not impossible. Maybe it was the fact that he drank whiskey with his breakfast. Hm. ‘Responsible’ in hindsight.

It’s still early in the afternoon when you arrive back home. The concrete is sizzling from the heat and the sun beats down way too uncomfortably for even a walk from the driveway to the front door.

Leon side-steps you to unlock the house before he urges you in. He may be morally reprehensible but he still didn’t want to let any cool air out- AC’s expensive. You plop down on the couch and he locks the door, walking past you and straight to the kitchen.

The tension is thick for you- but for Leon- not at all. You watch him disappear through the doorway as he goes to prep food. Why is it so hard to read his emotions? He’s like a fucking light switch. You’re annoyed- leaning back on the couch, until he calls for you. You’re quick to get up, scrambling into the kitchen.

“Hey, sweetheart. Mind giving me a hand?”

“Yeah. What is it?” You faintly cock your head to the side.

Leon looks to the side- directly at you. You’re cute when you’re confused. He can tell that all you’re thinking about is continuing where you two left off earlier. Shit, you’re no better than your mother. ‘S just that you’re not crabby and sour all the time like she is.

“Can you grab the saucepan from the bottom cabinet. Your old dad can’t exactly bend over too well.” He laughs- shaking his head. Yes, dad. I get it. I know you have a bad back.

You walk over to the cabinet where he’s leaned onto one hand which is rested on the marbled countertop. You feel a bit apprehensive to be close to him again. Mostly because you don’t trust yourself to not jump his bones, but Leon’s already ahead of you. As soon as you bend over, he pulls you back by the hips so that your ass is flush with his groin.

You’re taken aback but definitely not surprised. He’s a dirty old man, as you’ve learned.

“Gonna let daddy fuck this pussy now, or are you getting flaky on me?” He coos against your ear while he runs his hands up your sides and down again- creeping his hands to your front and over the buttons of your shorts- unhooking them through the slits.

“Yes.. want it.” You breathe in quick- the word coming out on its own. If god could hear you right now, he’d set your house ablaze with lightning.

“Need you to loosen up if I’m going to. You’re way too stiff.” Your shorts are the opposite of you, loose and unfastened fully so they fall to your ankles, and Leon nudges your feet apart with his boot. You realize he’s got a point as you feel his calloused hand glide down your hip and yank you in place. The other hand is spreading your pussy lips apart before finding that fleshy bud between them. A moan rumbles in your throat as your legs almost give out below you. He mutters a curse under his breath, and you realize his cock is now out while he rubs up against your ass- getting off on not only playing with your pussy but from dry humping you.

“Fucking christ. Got the prettiest ass, baby. Think daddy needs to see it bouncing on his cock.” You can practically feel that stupid, smug look as he grabs his dick- slapping it on your ass. It makes you cringe a little, but maybe you should be cringing at the fact your dad is the one doing it. You figure it’s just something he saw in porn, so it doesn’t leave your expectations high at the moment. Great. Leon adjusted himself back into his pants, for now.

His finger continues circling that bundle of nerves, your legs shaky as you’re being pressed into the counter, a hand is on your lower back to keep you down so he can do what he wants. You sound stupid- tears welling in your eyes as you babble nonsensically about wanting to cum. He moves his hand off of your back and sinks to his knees to be face level with you (even if it makes his back hurt a little), sliding his fingers up your inner thigh until there’s a digit prodding your hole, slowly pushing in.

He watches your cunt swallow his finger, barely able to fit it inside.

“Fucking shit, baby. Gonna have to stretch this pussy out if I want my cock in you, huh? Think you can let daddy do that?” He asks, breathy and sounding like he’s trying not to bust all over himself.

You eagerly shake your head.

“Yes, daddy. Need you to get me loose.” The words spill like a hot cup of tea from your lips, scalding Leon with desire.

“God damned. Such a polite fucking girl I’ve got. Might have to eat your mother out later to thank her for making you so respectful.”

You scrunch your face in disgust.

“That’s fucking gross.” You moan, Leon slipping a second finger into you, which should technically feel like four with how worn and big his hands are.

He tuts, planting a kiss to your asscheek.

“Now, didn’t daddy just compliment you? Could be a bit more grateful since he’s trying to make you cum” He grits, sounding a bit (terrifyingly) stern.

You apologize again.

“Sorry, daddy. Just don’t wanna hear about you and mom. Makes me jealous.” You admit, briefly thinking about their dinner conversation last night. Then about how fucking weird you are. You’re really hoping you get the courage to bash your head on the marble countertop and get amnesia.

Leon laughs, but in a way that makes you think he’s amused more than actually laughing.

“God. Want me to stop fucking my own wife just ‘cause you’ve got a needy pussy?” A third finger slips in, making an almost unbearable stretch as you feel a slight ache, but the previous two fingers already did enough work that it’s not completely unbearable.

“Maybe you’re not that grateful. Giving you three fingers here and she’s still too tight.” He twists his hand, letting the inside of you feel every inch of his knuckles and calluses. Your knuckles, however, are ghost-white as you grip at nothing.

“Maybe your fingers are just too small.” You say- mostly from built up tension and annoyance that you didn’t get to let out yet. But you regret the words.

He’s silent- which scares you. He pulls his fingers out of you- the stark contrast in emptiness is clear and the cool air stings you.

Leon groans as he stands up, kicking off his boots before yanking you by the arms to stand straight. He leans into your ear.

“C’mon. You’re gonna come sit on daddy’s dick, since you’re too fucking picky.” Goosebumps form all over you as he leads you to the couch. Leon leaves you standing there so he can get comfortable and discard his clothing, lying back with his hands behind his head. You make a mental note of how his biceps look with his arms bent in this position, even if you kinda feel like it’s lazy. But holy fuck, his toned stomach is perfect- sprinkled with a happy trail that will definitely lead you somewhere that will make you happy. Speaking of, his dick is nice. Fat. Not sure how big it is since you have not much to compare to, but you’d imagine taking it would be a bit of a proper challenge.

You step a little closer- crawling awkwardly over his lap- ass faced towards him so that you settle on his waist. It’s hard not to feel self conscious about your backside in this position, even considering the fact that he was just fingering you from the back moments ago. You’re mostly just upset you can’t gawk at his tits or stomach.

You grab him by the base, shifting yourself to hover directly over him, letting the tip graze your wet hole before slowly sinking down- a drawn out moan escaping you.

“Fuckkk. That’s it. Sit down on it. Take all of daddy.” You glance over your shoulder as you bottom him out; his eyes are half-lidded. Well, at least he’s got a pretty face while you’re fucking him. You almost failed to realize his hands moved from behind his head to your ass- gliding up your back and down again.

You take a moment to adjust, breathing shakily ‘cause his dick is so fat you think you might die. Or maybe you’re having a heart attack at your ripe age.

“Didn’t tell you to take any breaks, did I baby?” You’re annoyed at his pushiness, but you did have a bit of a sour attitude earlier. So you can only blame yourself.

You’re not sure how to entirely do this, but you move yourself up and down. Not at a fast pace, yet. Just that savoring your dad’s dick seems like a reasonable ordeal.

He doesn’t shut up, though. You’re learning just how much he likes to talk- as if he just wants to hear himself. Is he even getting off on you or the sound of his own voice? It makes you roll your eyes even if you do like hearing him say dirty shit.

"That’s my girl. So fucking good. Ride it nice and slow... Work that sweet pussy on daddy's cock.” You just might fall over dead hearing him say any of it- it’s disgusting but sweet Jesus are you eating it up. He must know it too because of how you clench around him involuntarily when he talks like that.

“You like when daddy praises you? Yeah, you love me telling you how good you are.” His words are husky and yet pleased with the previous tidbit of information.

“See how nice I am? Letting you sit on my cock after you made me wait earlier. Wasn’t very nice of you, now was it, baby?” His words have an underlyingly mocking tone, but you’d do anything to make him change it.

“No, daddy. Was really mean of me.” You whine pitifully, bouncing yourself on his dick like it’s your major in college and you’re trying to pass with flying colors.

“I know, baby. But daddy forgives you.” He murmurs, sitting up with you still on top of him. He’s flush against your back now- reaching in front of you to make those same tight circles on your clit. You both exchange your pitchy moans and his grunting and groaning- working up to a good point in both of your impending orgasms.

“Gonna cum in this pussy, got it? Daddy doesn’t like to pull out.”

You scramble a bit, squirming on his lap.

“Fuck, dad! You can’t do that!” You whine as his other arm holds you onto him- wrapped around your stomach. Your nails dig into his forearms, hopefully not leaving noticeable scratches.

“I think I can, baby. You’re squeezing me at the idea- I’m not fucking stupid.” He’s quick to be mean again, but you’d be a liar to say you’d don’t want him to cum in you. And you’re not a liar, that’s just deplorable- coming from someone who is literally fucking their dad with enough energy to power a small village for a month. And yet, you don’t stop riding him.

And your silence tells it all.

“Yeah- my baby wants a nice creampie.” He sounds more strained now, letting go of his hold on your stomach and using his hand to now guide you to roll your hips on him.

Sweat beads down Leon’s forehead, bangs sticking to his face as he watches your ass grinding against his lap.

“Fuck, baby. Just like that. I’m gonna cream this tight fucking pussy. Want that, don’t you? ‘Cause daddy’s gonna give it to you whether you want it or not.”

You should be a little more upset or concerned in any regard right now, but the last two days have made you into a proper whore to the point that you don’t even give a shit. Self respect crawled itself into a space shuttle and launched off of the planet, probably to never be seen again. Stuck in orbit, if you will.

You’re sucked out of the motions when Leon speaks again.

“Stop, stop.” He pats your bottom.

“Turn around, baby. I wanna see your face. Wanna kiss those lips while you’re on my dick.” Your stomach flutters with nervousness and a sickly sweet feeling. You lifted yourself from him with a trail of arousal to follow and maneuvered to turn around- this time he was holding his cock ready for you. Moments went by of you staring, getting a proper look of him since everything had been a quick blur so far.

“Come on, baby. Need you to mount daddy’s cock again. Told you I wanted to kiss you, didn’t I?” He exhaled, sounding a bit pent up. Jeez- seconds without pussy and he’s getting upset. Maybe he needs a therapist and anger management, not his college-aged daughter spearing herself on him.

You replied, yes, daddy. Sorry, daddy. Didn’t mean to make you wait, daddy.

You dropped yourself down onto him once more- only this time it was easier since you were able to get accustomed to his dick.

“Start moving sweetheart, make daddy cum.” He instructed, leaning in to take you in a kiss. It was more dirty than the last kiss, somehow. His tongue slipped between your lips- Leon lifted you with his hands on your waist before jutting his hips up to slam his cock snugly into your heat, groaning against your mouth delightfully.

His teeth nipped your lower lip- giving you a little further taste of just what kind of lover he is. Or maybe this is just the version you get. Either way, you can’t complain in any area. You feel lucky to receive even a sliver of it.

The familiar roughness of his thumb returns to your already throbbing bud- circling at the same pace he’s now moving at. Despite his age, he seems awfully enthusiastic to do strenuous work involving his hips. Bad back, my ass. Or maybe he’s able to put that on the back burner to please you. Probably worried if he doesn’t give you good dick then you’ll go tattle on him.

Leon didn’t break the kiss whatsoever while he pounded into you ruthlessly, he swallowed up every moan and noise you made like it was alcohol. ‘Cause that was his favorite, obviously.

When he pulled his mouth off of yours, a trail of saliva lingered- stretching out while you giggled on top of him. Something about you laughing almost made him nut immediately, but he held out just to prolong this and let it engrain into his mind for certain.

“Got the prettiest baby- look so good on my cock like this. Want daddy to bust in that pretty pussy?” He asked, looking for your approval.

“Uh-huh. Need daddy to knock me up.” The words came from god knows where, making even your eyes look bewildered for a second.

Leon laughed darkly at you.

“God, baby. Daddy’s so fucking close.” He muttered stupidly, almost like he was drunk. At least this could be an ego boost for you- but the fact it was your dad canceled that out. Dick only counts if it’s from someone that’s not related to you. His eyes did that half-lidded thing from earlier that you found so hot, and he pulled you down onto his cock one last time, spilling thick ropes into your blood-related hole. His dick pulsed as he let out a muted grunt, head lolling back and his adam's apple on full, stubbly display. You could bite it, just like a real apple.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” He moaned. Jeez. He was a whore, honestly. The way he made noises and didn’t shut the fuck up was honestly… a case that should be studied. Maybe he had been turned out a time or two himself.

His cock didn’t soften though, nor did he not forget about you cumming. He lifted his head back up, looking down at where his thumb was. It was almost like he read your thoughts, not saying a word as he concentrated on making you cum. ‘Cause earlier he had been too eager to get in you and you were too eager to get on him.

Your nails dug into his shoulders (hopefully your mom wouldn’t notice any marks on him when she gets home from work later) and he gently fucked into you while you received proper attention on your aching clit. The combination of his dick keeping you full and the sensation of his digit sent you throbbing through your orgasm around him- low curses and other disgusting things coming out of both your mouths.

‘Cause you’re both disgusting.

[gigabyte-flare]

He Comes Alive (Part 7)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6

Summary: You awake in a top secret facility where you learn of Leon's true nature

Word Count: 5.9k

Pairing: vampire/plagas!Leon Kennedy x fem!reader (afab)

Disclaimer: This story is a work of fiction. Actions depicted in this story are not condoned in real life. You are responsible for your own content consumption. If any of the following warnings trigger you, please read at your own risk. Minors do not interact, this story is 18+ only.

Warnings: Biting, blood, gore, murder, unprotected p in v, masterbation, oral (m and f receiving), stalking, pet names, kidnapping, breeding kink, blood play/kink, age gap, dubcon, pregnancy, monster f*cking, body horror, lactation kink, DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT [More warnings may be added in future entries]

A quick reminder that I no longer do tag lists

“Where’s Leon?”

“In this building.”

“Where am I?”

“At the BSAA North America headquarters in Washington D.C..”

“BSAA?”

“The Bioterrorism Security Assessment Alliance.”

“Did Leon do something wrong?”

The man called Clive lets out a chuckle, leaning back in his chair, “that’s a loaded question.”

You feel a lump form in the back of your throat. You swallow it back, remaining silent in hopes that Clive will continue.

“Nine years ago, the president’s daughter was kidnapped by a cult in Spain called Los Illuminados. D.S.O. Agent Leon S. Kennedy was sent to rescue her. Both of them had become infected with a bioweapon-- a parasite the cult called Las Plagas. Leon had successfully removed the parasite from the president’s daughter, however…”

Clive pauses and you can feel your heart start to race at the implication, but still you press, “however, what?”

Clive clears his throat, “by the time the U.S. government realized Leon was still infected, he was long gone, leaving a trail of bodies in his wake. He’s been on the run for nine years.”

“What are you talking about?”

“The hikers? That man at the festival? Your father? They’re all his victims,” Clive states.

“You’re lying!” you shout, standing up from the chair and slamming your hands onto the table.

“The plaga feeds on blood in order to survive; it seems to have an affinity to human blood, too.”

“You do realize this sounds absolutely insane, you’re making it sound like Leon’s a vampire or something.”

Clive chuckles again, “that honestly wouldn’t be that far from the truth,” you watch his eyes glance to your swollen belly, “I take it that’s Leon’s baby you're pregnant with?”

“Yes,” you reply curtly before sitting back in the chair, crossing your arms, “it is.”

“Shit…”

“What?”

Clive takes a deep breath before continuing, “I hate to tell you this, but your baby isn’t entirely human.”

Your eyes widen, “excuse me?! Now you’re fucking with me, this is insane!”

“Don’t you find it odd that Leon hasn’t taken you to a single prenatal appointment? Odd that your pregnancy seems to be progressing awfully fast?”

You stand back up again, angrily shaking your finger at Clive, “you are full of shit!”

“Deny it all you want, it’s the truth. Unfortunately you’re too far along in your pregnancy to safely abort, we’ll have to wait until you give birth so we can euthanize it; we’ll make sure it’s done humanely.”

“No one is coming near my baby! You’re just trying to scare me!”

You watch Clive reach into his jacket, pulling out a photo and placing it on the table in front of you. What you see immediately makes you pause and stare. It’s a poorly lit room, a person is tied to the support beam, covered in blood and what you assume is bite marks on their neck.

“This was taken in Leon’s basement after we apprehended him. This is why he kept the basement locked.”

You can’t take your eyes off the photo, especially after you realize you recognize the clothes; it’s a woman that had gone missing after coming out of a work Christmas party in Plymouth; you had seen a photo of her at the party on the news. You feel chills go up your spine.

"Unfortunately she died from blood loss when we were transporting her to our clinic," Clive states.

You swallow hard before making eye contact with Clive, “what the hell is going on…?” 

“I think it will be easier to show you, come with me,” Clive replies, standing up from his chair and motioning for you to follow him. 

You hesitate for a moment before you decide to follow, going back out into the hallway. The two of you eventually make your way to a single elevator, watching Clive swipe a card and then call the elevator. It beeps before the doors slide open and the two of you step inside. 

“How long have you been watching us?” you ask, figuring out that based on what Clive had said to you about Leon not taking you for prenatal check-ups, that someone was watching you and Leon’s every move.

“Shortly after Halloween, a police officer in Oakvale had reached out to the FBI to ask about Leon; in turn the FBI reached out to us. We had to ensure that it was definitely him before making our move.”

You nod, shifting uncomfortably on your feet and unconsciously rubbing your belly. After a couple minutes, the elevator door opens and Clive steps out, you follow him closely. Several men in lab coats turn and greet Clive.

“Director O’Brien! For what do we owe the pleasure?” one of the scientists asks before looking at you, “is this…?”

“Yes she is,” Clive replies, “has he been fed yet?”

The scientist looks back at Clive, shaking his head, “not yet, we were just about to get ready to.”

“Excellent, bring us to the observation room.”

“Of course, director.”

The scientist leads the way bringing you down another hallway that’s barricaded with several large steel doors. At the end, he turns to a door on the left, swiping a keycard and inputting a passcode, causing the door to slide open. You can’t help but feel like you somehow woke up in a science fiction movie. You pinch yourself again to make sure you’re definitely not dreaming.

Once in the room, the scientist pulls up the blinds on a large window and you see Leon, still in just his sweatpants, sitting on a basic metal bed hunched over, staring at the floor. Your heart seemingly skips as you rush up to the window, putting your hands on the glass.

“Leon…” you say softly.

From what you can see, there is nothing out of the ordinary about Leon and you start to reckon that they have the wrong man. Leon wouldn’t hurt anyone. Looking around the room, you notice there is a purple hue. You look up at the room’s ceiling and see that between each fluorescent light is a purple one; the same lights that you saw when you and Leon had gotten ambushed at home.

“What are the purple lights?” you ask, turning to Clive as you remove your hands from the glass.

“High powered ultraviolet lights. The plaga can’t stand sunlight. That’s why he only hunts at night.”

Suddenly, a walkie talkie that is sticking out of Clive’s outer jacket pockets goes off, “We’re ready to commence feeding if you are, director.”

Clive grabs the walkie talkie out of his jacket and replies, “proceed.”

On the left side of the room, a door slides open and a blindfolded man is pushed in and the door closes. The man practically falls onto his face. The man sits up on his knees and you see that his hands are bound behind his back.

“He’s a death row inmate,” Clive says, answering a question you hadn’t even asked, “we have a partnership with the penitentiary and they supply us with inmates that are going to be executed.”

Your attention is drawn back into Leon’s room when the UV lights are switched off and the fluorescent lights dim. Your eyes are drawn to Leon when he suddenly lifts his head, his eyes locked on the man that’s in the midst of a panic attack in the middle of the room. Before your eyes, you watch dark, inky veins start to spread over Leon’s exposed skin. Leon suddenly stands up, walking towards the man like a predator stalking its prey. Movement coming from behind Leon makes your breath hitch; a long, jet black tail comes out  of Leon’s back; the closest thing you can compare it to is a scorpion’s tail.

That isn’t all, four more appendages come out of his back, these looking like claws. You want to close your eyes, you want to run, but you can’t; your eyes remain locked on Leon. In a split second, Leon pounces onto the man, the man’s cries for help going unanswered as you watch Leon’s mouth latch itself onto his neck. The four claws latch onto the man as his tail whips itself back and forth as Leon feasts upon him. You suddenly feel your baby shift in your belly.

Leon suddenly stops, unlatching himself from his meal and looking directly at you. 

“Can he see us?” you ask, your voice shaking.

“No, it’s a two way mirror,” Clive replies, rubbing his chin with his fingers.

Leon stands up walking right up to the window, his eyes locked onto you. To your horror, you see his eyes are red, seemingly glowing in the dim light. His blood stained mouth hangs agape and you can see that all four of his incisors are elongated and sharp. Leon puts his hands onto the glass, his gaze still locked onto you.

“Angel?” he says, his eyes widening, “is that you?”

His tail moves back and forth as he stares at you and that’s when your baby inside you starts moving erratically, causing you to wince in pain as you grab your belly. 

“I’m sorry you have to see me like this,” Leon continues, his hands running down the glass, leaving trails of blood behind, “this is not how I wanted to show you my gift.”

“Gift?” you whisper, taking a couple of steps back from the window.

“He’s referring to the plaga.” Clive replies.

“Our little girl has the gift, too,” Leon continues, his right hand pets the glass as you watch his gaze shift to your belly, made even more unsettling knowing that he can’t see you, “isn’t that right, sweetie?”

Your baby shifts again, feeling your baby’s foot go up your rib cage, causing you to yelp as you once again grab your swollen belly. 

There’s no way your baby is reacting to him right? Right?

You watch as Leon’s crimson eyes narrow, one of his fists balling up and punching the glass, causing it to crack. You scream, stumbling backwards and falling to the floor as Leon throws another punch at the glass, cracking it further. Clive rushes over, picking you up off the floor as he grabs his walkie talkie.

“Turn those damn UV lights back on! NOW!” he shouts into the walkie talkie as he pulls you out of the observation room.

You turn and look back as the UV lights are powered back on, Leon letting out the most inhuman scream you’ve ever heard in your life and in an instant, you watch his grotesque appendages retreat back into his body as he stumbles away from the glass, clutching his head with his hands.

As you and Clive retreat back to the elevator, Leon’s cries of your name fill the halls.

You have no idea how much time has passed since the incident with Leon. Clive had you relocated to a more comfortable room at the facility; it has furniture, a small refrigerator and a window to look outside. You’re sitting in a rocking chair next to the window, rubbing your pregnant belly unconsciously as you watch a gentle snowfall outside. Over and over, your brain plays out the last few months since you returned home from dropping out of college.

Every little thing you had noticed that was odd suddenly made sense: eating the rarest meat imaginable, that one time you thought he had sharp teeth when he bit into his burger, him suddenly going into the basement, him getting up in the middle of the night to ‘check traps,’ the day they found what was left of your father, that smile he had on his face was burned into the back of your mind. Your eyes unconsciously widen at another revelation; the red eyes you saw in your window that night, they were Leon’s.

“It was him… he was the B.O.W. the whole time…” you whisper to yourself, a single tear rolling down your cheek. 

The sound of the door opening startles you and you watch Clive walk in, giving you a gentle smile and wave as he steps into the room.

“I just spoke with your mother,” Clive says, taking a seat on your bed across from where you sit, “I let her know you were experiencing complications in your pregnancy and that you had to be taken to a specialist in D.C., so she at least knows where you are. I didn’t mention Leon to her.”

“Thank you,” you reply softly, letting out a sigh as you return your attention back out the window.

“How are you feeling?” he asks, the concern evident in his voice.

“Empty? Lost? I’m not sure what to feel… I feel like the last few months have been a cruel lie,” you reply honestly, wiping more tears that run down your face away with the back of your hand.

“I know and I’m sorry. I can’t even imagine how hard this has been for you.”

“Is it true that you can’t cure him?” you ask, looking back over at Clive.

Clive nods, “unfortunately. The parasite has completely taken over his body, if we try to remove it, he will die.”

“How… how is he?” you ask, not really sure you actually want the answer.

“He’s refusing to feed. We’ll have to execute him sooner than we intended,” Clive replies, leaning forward, resting his forearms onto his legs.

“Execute?!”

Clive nods, “yes, he’s too dangerous to keep alive. Our hope was to study the plaga inside of him before putting him out of his misery, but he’s making that difficult.”

“Is there any chance I could say goodbye to him before he’s executed?”

Clive stares at you puzzled for a moment before replying, “I believe I can have that arranged.”

“Good,” you say with a soft sigh of relief.

Despite everything, you still love him. You still love the baby growing inside of you. The thought that both of these things that you love so dearly are going to get taken from you absolutely kills you.

“I’ll make sure to come get you when that time comes,” Clive says, standing up from the bed and walking over to the door, “don’t hesitate to give us a holler if you need anything.”

You believe another few days passes, you awake one morning to the sound of wind howling; a blizzard seems to have come in. Just after you get yourself dressed and cleaned up, Clive once again comes into your room.

“It’s happening tonight,” Clive says, his look solemn.

You acknowledge him with a nod before following him out of your room and back to the elevator that brings you to the underground research facility. This time, instead of bringing you to the observation room, Clive brings you to the door leading to Leon’s containment chamber.

“Remember,” Clive begins, causing you to draw your attention to him, “we’ll be watching. We won’t let him hurt you.”

You nod as the door to his containment chamber slides open. You step inside the small chamber inside the door, it sprays some kind of mist on you which you suspect is some kind of sanitizer. After that, the final door opens and you see Leon, laying on his back staring at the ceiling. You step inside, listening as the door slides shut and locks, making your heart jump in nervousness. At first, Leon doesn’t acknowledge you, instead he continues to stare at the ceiling.

“Leon?” you finally speak up, your voice soft.

Leon lifts his head, staring at you for a moment before he sits up, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed, practically running to you. He places his hands on your shoulders, looking at you in disbelief.

“Angel! You’re ok, I’ve been so worried!” he exclaims before planting a kiss onto your forehead.

Now you’re able to get a good look at him. His skin is extremely pale and you can see the faint, inky black veins all over his exposed skin. It reminds you of the time you had gone to the festival, before he had killed that man behind the fairground. Now you know why Leon had looked so terrible that day.

“I’ve been worried about you, too,” you say hesitantly, avoiding eye contact with him.

“What’s wrong Angel? It’s just me,” Leon coos, his hand gently grasping your chin, forcing you to look at him. 

His gaze shifts down to your belly, a smile slowly overtaking his lips as he stares down in awe; once again feeling your baby move inside you.

“My God… you’ve gotten so big! Our little girl is growing like a weed!” he says, the excitement evident in his voice as he places a hand on your belly, rubbing it slowly.

A hint of sadness hits you, knowing that as soon as your baby is born, it’s going to be humanely euthanized, but you don’t want to do anything that could cause Leon to lash out, so you keep that knowledge to yourself. 

“How do you know it’s a girl?” you ask, genuinely curious.

“She told me,” Leon explains, his gaze shifting back to you, “because of our gift, we are constantly connected.”

You feel your pulse pick up, feeling your baby continue to writhe inside you as Leon continues to rub your belly.

“I’m going to give you the gift, as well. We’ll be together in both body and mind. Isn’t that wonderful?”

Before you can even process what he just said to you, you notice there’s a sudden change in the lighting; your eyes dart around to see what changed when you notice the subtle purple hue is gone. The UV lights have been turned off. You want to panic, but you take deep breaths to try to keep yourself calm. You reckon it must be a mistake, they’ll turn the UV lights back on in any second. However, more agonizing seconds go by and you realize that they are not coming back on.

Leon slowly looks up, a smirk spreading across his lips when he realizes the UV lights are off, “well… that's convenient.”

He closes his eyes, rolling his neck and shoulders as you watch in horror as the dark veins on his skin get even darker. When he opens his eyes again, you are once again met with the crimson eyes that have haunted your subconscious since the day you saw Leon from the observation room. But now that he’s right in front of you, everything inside you is telling you to get away. You take a couple steps back away from him, his smirk immediately turning into a frown.

“No, no, no! It’s ok, I won’t hurt you, Angel,” he pleads, reaching out to you and grasping your upper arms to stop you from moving away, “I just want to take care of you.”

You watch as his tail snakes out from behind him, moving between the two of you. The end of it goes under your shirt and you watch as the blade-like end of his tail moves upwards, slicing through your shirt. Once your shirt is completely sliced open, his fingers gingerly push the remains of the shirt off you, exposing your swollen breasts to him. He brings one hand up, brushing one of your sensitive nipples under his thumb, causing a small white bead of liquid to come out before running down your breast, pooling onto your pregnant belly.

“Aw look, you’re making milk. Our little girl will need blood, not milk. No matter, I’ll make sure it won’t go to waste,” Leon says before leaning down, wrapping his mouth around the leaking nipple and sucking hard.

“L-Leon!” you cry out, trying to push him away.

You look over at the mirror, knowing that there are people watching. Does Leon know there are people watching? You want to cry out for help, to get someone to come get you out, but you can’t; you don’t want to risk invoking Leon’s fury. After what seems like an eternity, Leon unlatches himself from your breast, his crimson eyes staring down at you lustfully. A grin slowly forms on his face, showing off his long, sharp canine teeth.

He grasps you gently, coaxing you over to his bed where he spins you around, forcing you to bend over onto the bed with your knees on the floor. You rack your brain over what on Earth he’s doing when you feel a very sudden sharp pain in your shoulder, causing you to scream. You then hear a low moan; Leon’s mouth is latched onto your shoulder, his fangs sinking deep into your flesh as blood starts to pour out from the wound. 

He releases his mouth from you briefly, his breaths heavy as he grips onto your waist, his hands then reaching around to undo your belt and pants, “you taste just as divine as I remember, Angel,” he purrs into your ear.

You start to question mentally what he’s talking about until you recall back to the first night you stayed at Leon’s house when the two of you had sex for the first time. He wasn’t just eating you out that night. He was feeding off you. This newest revelation causes a sudden wave of nausea to come over you, causing you to gag. You quickly cover your mouth with one hand while the other grips the sheets on his bed, tears burning the corners of your eyes, threatening to pour out. 

He bites back down into your shoulder as his hands make quick work pulling down your pants and underwear, his fingers rubbing your slit slowly, gathering up the slick of your body’s arousal on his fingertips. While still feeding off you, he pulls down his sweatpants and you feel the head of his cock prod at your entrance. Your eyes widen when you watch two of the claw-like appendages stab down onto the bed in front of you while the other two wrap around your waist, trapping you against him; you feel one of his hands rest on your hip while the other grips your hair, pulling your head back. It takes everything in you not to scream.

With a quick thrust of his hips, he buries his cock inside you, unlatching his mouth from your shoulder with a loud moan as his grip on your hair tightens. You cry out at the feeling of him practically splitting you in half; he feels so much larger than you remember. There’s also another sensation inside you, one you don’t recognize at all. It’s almost hard for your mind to even describe; like a thousand fingers are stroking your inner walls and your cervix and with each quick thrust of Leon’s hips, it feels amazing. You can’t help but let out a loud moan as Leon pistons himself into you, hurtling you towards your release. 

“That’s it Angel, you’re doing so well for me. My perfect mate,” he purrs as he picks up the pace of his thrusts, the hand on your hip gripping so tight that it’ll surely leave bruises, his other hand running down your neck before resting onto your other shoulder, “now, be a good girl and take my gift.”

Against your better judgment, you turn your head to look at him. Leon is opening his mouth and you watch as four mandibles come out from the depths of his mouth and you can hear something squealing from inside his throat. No longer able to put on a brave face, you start to scream, thrashing your body in a desperate attempt to get away from him. The strange sensation you noted inside you suddenly starts to sting as you try to get yourself off him and you feel the claws wrapped around your waist start to cut into your skin as they grip you tighter. 

The door to Leon’s room suddenly opens and Clive along with two men with tactical gear and guns swarm in. Clive holds up a large UV flashlight, shining it directly at Leon’s head. Leon roars, the mandibles going back inside his mouth as he falls backwards, freeing you from his grasp. You quickly pull your underwear and pants back up before running over to Clive, using your arms to cover your exposed breasts. Clive positions you behind him as the two men move to either side of Leon, their guns drawn and pointed at him. One of the scientists then rushes inside the room, Clive turns his head to address him.

“What the fuck were you thinking?!” Clive shouts at the scientist right before the UV lights turn back on.

You wince when you hear the inhuman cry come from Leon as he scrambles to crouch himself into the corner of the room, gripping his head and trembling.

“We just wanted to see what he would do, that’s all!” the scientist says, pleading with Clive.

“She nearly got infected! Was that part of your plan?!” Clive shouts, walking up to the scientist, getting in his face.

“Well, no…”

“The lead researcher will be hearing about this, now get out of our way, I need to take her back to her room,” Clive continues, practically shoving the scientist out of the way as he gently grasps your upper arm to lead you out of Leon’s containment chamber.

As you walk out, you turn and look at Leon, who’s still crouched in the corner; his eyes are locked onto you, a smirk spread across his lips.

Leon stays seated in the corner of his containment chamber for the majority of the day, only moving to relieve himself in the toilet inside his containment chamber. Scientists have been in and out of his containment chamber as well, almost as if they’re preparing for something, though he didn’t have the slightest clue of what that could be until the lead researcher comes in with his young assistant, who looks vaguely familiar to Leon. 

The lead researcher takes Leon’s vitals and a blood sample, staying completely still through it all, watching the assistant take a seat on Leon’s bed, taking notes with a clipboard and pen.

“Dr. Jacobs, a question if I may?” the assistant suddenly asks.

“Go ahead, Chambers.”

Chambers. Rebecca Chambers. That’s why I recognize her…

Rebecca was a former member of S.T.A.R.S. Bravo Team prior to the Raccoon City outbreak incident on September 30, 1971; Leon’s first day as a police officer. A part of him wishes he had died that day.

“How did he manage to infect the fetus? I thought you said it was transmitted via the bloodstream, hence why he bit her.” she asks, setting the clipboard and pen down onto the bed next to her.

Dr. Jacobs swallows hard as he turns to address her, “we believe there are plaga larvae in his semen, which fused with the embryo upon fertilization even though we found no larvae in the semen samples we were able to get. Somehow… the plaga inside him can control when a larva is released… absolutely extraordinary, a real shame we’re executing him tonight.”

Leon subtly raises an eyebrow.

“What about the baby?” Rebecca presses.

“The baby will be humanely euthanized upon birth, the BSAA wants to put the plagas parasite to bed for good even though the child could provide valuable data. I tried to fight it but O’Brien wouldn’t budge.”

What?

Leon remains calm on the outside, but on the inside, he is panicking. He has to protect his offspring at all cost, but how? That answer comes on a silver platter when he watches Rebecca stand up from the bed, grabbing the clipboard but leaving the pen behind on his bed. He waits a couple minutes to see if they realize she had left the pen in here. When he’s confident they’re not coming back in, he stands up, walking over to the bed and collapsing onto it, clutching the pen in his hand as he lays down. He turns, his back facing the camera that’s on the opposite wall pointed towards the bed. 

During his stint in the military after surviving the Raccoon City outbreak, Leon picked up a few tricks, one being how to make lockpicks out of just about anything. He meticulously takes the mechanical pen apart, using the metal parts to make a crude lock pick, small enough to fit into the palm of his hand.

Later that evening, the door to his containment chamber opens and Dr. Jacobs comes in along with another man in tactical gear with an AK-47 slung over his shoulder and a pistol strapped to his leg. Dr. Jacobs is carrying a metal folding chair, which he hands to the guard for him to set down onto the floor after opening.

“Sit,” the guard orders Leon, pointing at the chair.

“Yeah, yeah…” Leon replies, standing up from his bed and sitting in the chair.

“Hands behind your back. Now,” the guard barks.

Leon does as he’s ordered, putting his hands behind his back around the back of the chair. The guard walks behind him, handcuffing his wrists together. Unbeknownst to the guard, Leon has his makeshift lock pick wedged between two of his fingers, completely concealing it. The guard walks back around, standing in front of Leon as Dr. Jacobs prepares a syringe of bright green liquid. Slipping the lock pick out, he begins to pick the lock on his cuffs.

“It pains me to do this Leon, it really does,” says Dr. Jacobs as he approaches, the guard moving to the side of Leon to let him through, “you were a brilliant agent. I admit this will not be pleasant, but you won’t suffer for long, I promise.”

Leon manages to free himself just as Dr. Jacobs kneels down to inject him with the deadly serum in the syringe. In the blink of an eye, Leon snatches the syringe from Dr. Jacobs, stabbing it into his neck and pushing the syringe. Dr. Jacobs’ expression contorts as he collapses onto the floor, his body going into a seizure in what Leon imagines is the painful thralls of death.

The guard curses as Leon stands up from his chair, pointing his AK-47 at him to shoot. However, Leon’s too quick, he side steps and grabs the AK-47, using the strap slung around the guard’s body to strangle the man, all the while, the gun is still firing, shooting out all the lights in the ceiling, including the UV lights. Inky black veins quickly envelope Leon’s body and his eyes shift into the deep crimson as Leon bites into the guard’s exposed neck, drinking as much blood as he can in a short period of time.

He then kneels down to Dr. Jacobs’ lifeless body, searching his pockets to find a fob. With this fob in hand, the door to the containment chamber opens, allowing Leon to make his escape. He can sense his offspring is several floors above where he is, so he quickly finds the elevator, the fob allowing him access to it. 

When the elevator doors open, several guards are waiting for him, guns drawn. In an instant, Leon’s tail and back appendages emerge and he practically leaps out of the elevator pinning one of the guards down and ripping out his throat while his tail whips around, decapitating and fatally stabbing the other guards. Just when Leon thinks he’s in the clear, he hears more footsteps coming towards him. He looks up, blood dripping from his mouth and chin and finds Director O’Brien with about 10 more guards behind him.

“I should have known you wouldn’t go quietly, Leon,” Director O’Brien says, crossing his arms.

“Where is my mate?” Leon growls, standing up to face them, using his back claws and tail to make himself look bigger.

“In a place you won’t get to, Leon. You’re not leaving this hallway alive,” Director O’Brien replies.

“We’ll see about that.”

Leon begins to step forward, his legs and arms mutating, turning black like his claws and tail. His fingers become more claw like and his legs contort to become more insect-like; his feet also transform into three toed claws. His jaw splits open to reveal rows of sharp elongated teeth, his four incisors still longer than the rest. His four mandibles also come out of his mouth and he lets out an inhuman roar as he charges towards Director O’Brien and the guards. This is the furthest Leon’s ever let himself transform and he’s honestly eager to see what he can do.

The guards shoot at him, but the bullets do little to no damage to Leon as he rips through them like paper with his razor sharp claws, blood and guts spilling everywhere. In the chaos, Director O’Brien slips away, running down the hall. Leon sees this and quickly gives chase, what’s left of the guards strewn all over the white marble floor in his wake. Director O’Brien comes around the corner with his angel, his mate in tow, both of them stopping in their tracks upon seeing Leon.

Leon opens his mouth wide, letting out a loud hiss as he glares at Director O’Brien. Unfortunately in his current state, he’s unable to speak. His crimson stare shifts over to his angel, who to his dismay, is visibly frightened.

Angel, don’t be afraid, I won’t hurt you. I could never hurt you…

He curses internally about not being able to give her his gift; if he had been successful, he would be able to communicate with her easily. His gaze then shifts to her swollen belly, sensing his offspring is strong and healthy inside her. He watches as she grips her belly, flinching.

“Back off, Leon!” Director O’Brien shouts, pulling out a small flashlight from inside his dark green coat and turning it on, pointing its purple beam directly into Leon’s face. 

Leon, turns his face away, growling as he feels the light sting his mutated parts. His tail whips forward, slicing off the hand holding the UV flashlight before he turns back to Director O’Brien, stalking towards him and using one of his clawed hands to pick him up and pin him against the wall. Letting out a guttural growl, his mouth and mandibles open wide only stopping when he feels his mate’s hands on his arm.

“Leon, don’t kill him, please!” she cries, “don’t kill him and I’ll… I’ll go with you…”

His mutated mouth closes, turning to her to see her bloodshot eyes staring up at him, pleading with him. He lets out a soft purring sound, turning back to Director O’Brien and abruptly dropping him. He falls to the floor with a gasp, Leon’s attention back onto his mate as he grabs her by her wrist. She looks up at him, the fear evident in her eyes as she starts to panic, pulling against his grasp as she hyperventilates. 

Angel, don’t do this… it’ll be ok, I promise…!

She then faints; Leon’s quick reflexes catch her before she collapses onto the floor. He picks her up into his arms bridal style, stalking into one of the rooms that has a window. Using his tail, he smashes the window open, the blizzard raging outside now blowing snow into the room. Leon leaps out of the window, carrying his mate into the stormy winter night.

Part 8

[sincerlycas]

hi!! i absolutely love your fics, would you mind doing another Connie fic where he’s a plug.

boys need love 2.

summary: connie took you with him to all his drops stop by stop, things lead to another/ just know he needs to blow off steam and your there for him.

warning: oral, black y/n, messy y/n, a bit of mean connie, slighy rough, throat goat, mature scenes, etc.

I’m

swiping on your phone looking for outfits you’d purchased later on while sitting in a curled up position in the passenger seat waiting for connie to finish the trade. turning your to look at him approach the car and smile, finally seating down on the drivers seat and giving you a quick kiss he pulled off and went to the next destination. this has been going on for a while, him taking you to his drops but making sure your not seen he just loves when you were next to him.

“what’s you looking at so intensely on your phone mariposa?” he spoke so low with that accent that made you want to jump out your seat and su- “I’m looking for new clothes but these are not giving what they’re supposed to give.” rolling your eyes at those ugly ass options. “uh huh well when you’re done show me it and I’ll buy it fo you, and it better not be something that’s gone rip because of that fat ass.” laughing at the memory of that previously happening but yelping at feeling a squeeze in your ass from him slipping a hand behind you to grab on it.

“con- move your hand and focus on driving !!” smiling and moving his hand and went back to focusing on the road. stopping the car at some house connie reached over you to grab the last bag left that was in the glove department. fixing your glasses and giving your head a kiss like he always did before he left he went and got up walking up to the house. this time the drop took a while causing you to be a bit worried, reaching under your seat to grab the glock so you can go walk up to the house but was stopped by connie storming out the house with a mugging face.

“you good-” “-not right now y/n.” taken aback but not only his rudeness but him saying your government name. rolling your eyes and going back to your phone ignoring him the whole ride. “tell me you don’t know a javon y/n.” finally stopping the car at the drive way and tilting his head to the side staring at you. “nigga what- who tf is a ja- ohhh” you knew that house looked familiar! it was one of your bitch ass ex’s house. “he’s just an ex con” you answered but that didn’t seem to matter to him.

“an ex who asks me all sorts of questions like ‘is her pussy still good?’ ‘she like when you hit from the side’ ‘tell her hit me up when you done alr?’” after saying that sentence connie stopped the car and headed towards the house reaching into your guys shared bedroom. following after him trying to get his attention to which he would ignore, finally after reaching the room and standing up in front of him as he’s sat on the bed. “con he was trolling you, he doesn’t know shit about me fr, it doesn’t even matter anyway he’s a bum.” trying to relieve the conversation by reaching your hand to rub at connie’s curls to which he moves away.

sighing you went to the last resort by putting your body wave 30 inch into a ponytail and fixing your glasses to stay on sturdier. getting down on your knees and sliding his joggers off along with his boxers and taking his dick into your hands. “y/n the fuck are you doin- fuckkkk~” rolling his head back when you slid the tip past your throat and sucking sloppily while jerking the rest of the length off. rubbing at his balls while you started to deep throat it all the way to the bottom and started shaking your head causing bubbles to erupt and cover the whole bottom half of your face not caring if it looked messy.

curling his toes and groaning out loudly connie was paralyzed on the bed with his eyes rolling back, yes he’s gotten head before but you, you weren’t ordinary bitch you were a leech!! “ohhh shittt~ mamii~ that feels so good~” bring his hand onto your head to find something to give a bit of a tug on. letting out a slight whimper and bite his lap as you took it out your mouth and slapped the tip on your tongue repeatedly while flicking your tongue in a rapid motion against the tip. “you like that papi~” you said as you went down to start licking at his balls while looking up at him. “you know I do mami~ fuckk just like that~” kissing his teeth while reeling his head back connie didn’t know if he was in heaven or just dead overall by the way you was taking his soul, nigga had his toes curling, back arching, lip bitten, eyes rolled back, whimpers,and high pitch ass moans.

slipping it out over and over again as a way to tease him but rubbing his tip on the pad of your tongue letting him shoot his cum down your throat which you gladly swallowed. rubbing in his thighs to calm down his rapid breaths and minor leg shakes you leaned up and laid your head on his clenched stomach “you feel better pa~?” “yess~ you did such a good job mariposa~”

[daddy-dins-girl]

Playdate

Main Masterlist Series Masterlist

Chapter Two | Chapter Three

AO3 link

Marcus Pike x f! Reader x Dave York

Word Count: 7.8k

Summary: You love Marcus with all your heart and you’re not dissatisfied with him or his efforts in the bedroom, but you always hoped to have a little bit more variety . Though you were initially shocked that he had suggested something like this to begin with, you still jumped at the chance to broaden both your horizons.

Turns out, Dave York was exactly what you both needed.

Notes: One day I'll stop being so unhinged about Dave York, but today is not that day. Enjoy some Suburban Murder Daddy Dave and everyone's favorite Cozy Boyfriend Marcus!

Warnings: 18+ MDNI. Ok, here we go (takes deep breath). F/M/M Threesome. Cuckolding. Voyeurism. Masturbation. Mutual Masturbation. Oral Sex (f an m receiving). Brief (and very light) Anal Play. (Unprotected) P in V sex. Creampie. Breathplay. Degradation Kink. Daddy Kink. Praise Kink. Cockwarming. Spitting (is it even a Dave York fic if he's not spitting in your mouth? Come on). Light spanking (like 2 slaps to your ass). Squirting. Light dom/sub. Dom Dave York. (Occasionally but rarely) Soft Dave York. As always Dave York is his own warning and I cannot stress this enough.

The moment Dave York strolled into your shared bedroom with Marcus, the entire energy of the room had changed, you could feel it. Both you and Marcus, who stood nervously at your side.

“Dave, this is my wife,” Marcus begins, introducing you by name and Dave unabashedly gives you a good long look up and down until his gaze finally settles on your face again. Your cheeks are burning. You can feel them, the heat rising up your neck as you stand there in just a little matching set of a silk cream coloured nighty and panties (Marcus’ favorite) in front of this total stranger to you. Marcus knew him, of course, their government departments had recently been working together for a few months and they’d even gone out for the occasional beer after work.

That’s really where this whole thing had started. Marcus had had one too many one night out with Dave and when he’d watched the way women just seemed to gravitate to him, the way Dave handled it all seamlessly had Marcus mesmerized. A waitress would flirt with Dave and he’d just reach up and grab a handful of their ass and before you knew it they’d be sitting in his lap fiddling with his tie or pulling at his collar while Dave sat mostly uninterested by this point, sipping on his beer and continuing to have a mundane conversation with Marcus as if a twenty-something year old bombshell wasn’t currently in his lap begging for his attention. He wasn’t even nice to them, which was the crazy part. It was all cocky attitude and degrading talk and maybe it was the way Dave carried himself or the way he looked, but these women ate it up and Marcus could barely believe his eyes or his ears. If he ever spoke to a woman like that, not only would his mother turn over in her grave, but he’d surely earn a hard slap across his face for his efforts.

And so that’s when it started. Marcus slowly began opening up to Dave about you. About how he worried sometimes that you weren’t as satisfied with him as you could be. You promised him that wasn’t true, but still, every once and a while you’d try new things with him in bed and he just never felt like he was doing it right. And most times when you did try something new you wouldn’t ask to do it again, which made his insecurity soar even higher that he hadn’t really done what you wanted well the first time you asked.

“So, what does she like then?” Dave asks casually before snapping his fingers at a waitress across the room and signaling to the table for another round.

“Um, what?”

“Your wife, Pike. What, she wants you to slap her around? Fuck her in the ass? Fuck you in the ass, what?” He says it so casually and Marcus has to cover his mouth as he nearly spits his beer across the table at the candidness.

“Jesus York!”

“What?” Dave scoffs. “If you can’t even talk about it with me, how do you expect to do it to her?” He reasoned and Marcus sighed. He did have a point.

“She um, I don’t know, different stuff I guess. Like last time she uh… she put my hand on her throat” Marcus shrugged, a little embarrassed.

“Nice” Dave simply nodded, taking another sip from his beer.

“Nice?!” Marcus’s eyes shot up. “It wasn’t nice, I was so terrified of hurting her the whole time I-” he stopped abruptly and Dave raised one eyebrow.

“You… what?”

“I, you know…” Marcus, looked around the room, anywhere but into Dave’s eyes. “I got um… uninspired” Marcus admitted.

“Christ” Dave rubbed a hand over his face. “Can’t even keep your dick hard fucking your own wife? Should’ve come to me sooner”

“Hey, will you keep it down!” Marcus practically hissed across the table, looking around frantically to ensure nobody was really paying attention to them.

“Let me see her”

“What?” Marcus’s brow raised slightly.

“Let me see her. C’mon you probably have like 1500 pictures of her in your camera roll making the exact same fucking kissy face at you, let me see her” Dave said, holding his hand out for Marcus’s phone.

Marcus rolled his eyes but did as asked, opening up his camera roll to a more recent photo of you that he had taken and passed his phone across the table. Dave let out an appreciative low whistle.

“Damn Pike, I didn’t know you had it in ya. She’s a smokeshow” Dave teased and Marcus quickly snatched the phone back as he saw Dave beginning scrolling through his photos app.

“So… what do I do?” Marcus asked and normally Dave couldn’t give a fuck about anyone but himself but he did feel bad for the guy and not to mention his wife was fucking gorgeous and he wouldn’t mind showing Marcus exactly what to do with you.

“Talk to your wife. See if she’s interested in an interested third party”

“Wait, like you’d… with her?” Marcus stuttered and Dave briefly wondered if Marcus’s eyebrows would get stuck like that if they raised any higher to his hairline

“If you want.” Dave simply shrugged. “You’d be there. You know, the ol’ watch and learn” Dave finished, tossing a wink and Marcus swallowed the hard lump in his throat before chugging the rest of his beer.

That was just two weeks ago, and now here you all are.

“Hey baby, wear this just for me?” Dave said in way of greeting as he sauntered right up to you and took the hem of your thigh-length nighty between the pads of his fingers.

“It’s Marcus’ favorite” you explain with a shy smile.

“Oh, well in that case, take it off” Dave orders, his hand immediately leaving you. Your eyes open wide at his boldness and your gaze darts over quickly to Marcus who’s simply standing by the door with his hands in his pockets just watching the exchange. When your eyes flit back to Dave he’s staring at you with a look on his face that can only be interpreted as ‘don’t make me ask again’.

Despite yourself you already feel a heat stirring low in your belly. You're nervous and yet turned on. Marcus had shown you a picture of Dave so although you did have an idea of what he looked like, his government ID headshot did nothing to prepare you for how handsome he actually was in real life standing right in front of you. His features were sharp; a strong hawk-like nose, a jaw that could cut glass and his eyes were hard but with a glimmer of the softness Marcus’ eyes held in them. They were the same chocolate brown, Dave’s just a little darker and you already found yourself getting lost in them as you stare right into them while you tug your nighty up and over your head, tossing it to a corner of the room.

“Good girl” Dave praises and brings the back of his hand up to let his knuckles drag a line down your front from sternum to belly button with a light ghosting touch that leaves goosebumps in its wake. The shudder that momentarily racks your body doesn’t go unnoticed by either of the men in the room. Dave simply smirks.

“Sit down on the bed, Sweetheart” he tells you next and you quickly obey, sitting down at the end of the bed and Dave takes the few steps to meet you there, towering over you.

“Such a well behaved little slut you have yourself here Pike” Dave tosses over his shoulder at Marcus and you quickly glance over, unsure of how Dave’s remarks will be received but Marcus stays planted in the corner of the room, only this time it doesn’t escape your notice how he quickly reaches down to adjust himself in his pants before stuffing his hand back into his pocket and you feel your shoulders relax instantly, knowing Marcus is enjoying this too. The heat floods back into your abdomen as your nerves settle slightly. Or, as much as they can with the ever intimidating Dave York looming over you.

“Open your mouth” Dave says next, grabbing your face with one hand, his thumb and forefinger holding tight just under the apples of your cheeks. You don’t speak, just slowly open your mouth to him only slightly.

“Wider”

You obey.

“Good girl” he praises again before he tilts his face down and spits right into your mouth. It surprises you and your eyes squeeze shut at the shock of it all but you otherwise don't’ move, waiting for his next instructions. His grip loosens on your jaw and he brushes a knuckle up at the underside of your chin, signaling you to close your mouth and you do.

“Now swallow” he tells you and the gulp that follows from you feels like it's somehow bounced off every wall of the room that’s so quiet you could hear a pin drop. Dave rewards you with a smile.

“She’s so easy Pike, I don’t know what you were scared of” Dave mentions off-handedly, not even bothering to look at Marcus because he can’t seem to take his eyes off yours.

“Sit in the chair”

Confusion crosses your features but you go to stand up before you feel Dave’s warm hand on your shoulder pushing you back down. “Not you”

Oh.

Marcus is as obedient as you are when it comes to Dave it seems, taking the few strides over to the armchair sitting by the window where you like to curl up and read and he sits down immediately, both hands gripping at the arms of the chairs like he needs to hang on for dear life.

Maybe he does.

“You like that? Taking what I give you to swallow?” Dave’s attention is back on you now, hand resuming its grip on your jaw and you can do little more than nod your head.

“Use your words, little mouse”

“I like it” you confess, maybe a little too eagerly and Dave huffs a laugh.

“Yeah, you like having that little fucking mouth full I bet” Dave states as his free hand starts tugging his belt open and opening his dress slacks, pushing them down to his thighs. You stare, wide eyed as your gaze lands on the very impressive bulge straining against black cotton boxer briefs.

No wonder Dave York was so cocky, you muse inwardly.

“Go on, take my cock out” Dave orders and you bring your bottom lip between your teeth and quickly chance a glance over to Marcus.

“Hey, eyes on me” Dave growls as he tightens his hold on your jaw and yanks you back to face him. A little drool dribbles from your mouth the way Dave is holding it open and he quickly swipes at it with his thumb and pushes it inside your mouth and without having to be told you suck it clean.

“Fast learner” Dave hums with a shit eating grin that you suddenly feel the urge to kiss off of him.

“It’s ok baby” you hear Marcus’ voice from across the room. He sounds a little off. His voice is slightly trembling and his breathing is quickened and you know straight away that he’s turned on. You’re glad. You were half afraid that at the first vulgar insult that left Dave’s mouth that Marcus would be throwing him out the door. You were also worried at the back of your mind that Marcus would be wondering what the hell was wrong with you to be turned on by such behaviors but apparently he was starting to see your side of it and it pleased you to no end.

Your shoulders settle again as Dave’s grip leaves your jaw and you slowly reach forward with both hands and tug down his boxers and carefully take his cock and balls out. He’s rock hard in your grasp as your fingers lightly run down the impressive length. Marcus may be a bit longer but Dave is so much thicker you don’t even think you could get your whole hand around it if you tried. You won’t try yet because Dave hasn’t told you to so you simply wait for his next instructions.

“Yeah, that’s my good girl” Dave praises again, his hands now brushing softly through your hair and gathering it up so he can hold it back with one hand.

“Pike, get over here” Dave says and Marcus eases out of the chair and wanders over to you, nervous even on his own legs like a baby deer taking its first steps.

“Spit in my little sluts mouth. Don’t worry, she likes it” he winks at you.

Marcus stops at your side and your heart is beating wildly in your chest. You’re sitting there half naked with two hands idly wrapped around Dave’s cock with his holding your hair back while your husband stands next to you. Marcus eases your nerves though, of course he does, by leaning down and kissing you softly. Your mouth opens to him and you both let out a little moan when your tongues meet and for a brief second it's like nothing else exists in the room but the two of you and surprisingly, Dave allows it. Marcus kisses you until he feels you relax, your heartbeat starting to slow again and then he pulls back just slightly. You stick your tongue out and open your mouth wide for him. Marcus takes a breath and then gently, unlike Dave, spits into your mouth.

“Don’t swallow this time” Dave warns immediately. Marcus takes this as his queue to leave and returns to his chair and your head turns back to look at Dave. Your mouth is still open and tongue sticking out with a glob of Marcus’ saliva waiting on it.

“You’re so good” Dave smiles, bringing his free hand up so his thumb can run along your cheek. “Now don’t let that go to waste” is all the warning you get before Dave’s hand is at the back of your head and pushing you forward until his cock disappears down your throat. The mixture of your and Marcus’ saliva along with the precum already leaking from Dave’s head has you sliding down his length easily, the lewd sounds of your sucking him off filling the room.

“That’s it, fuck” Dave swears, hand gripping your hair a little tighter as he holds your head still and thrusts his hips over and over, fucking into your throat. “Knew you’d love having that little mouth filled up” he laughs before forcing himself in deeper and then holding.

Your face is buried in Dave’s crotch as he holds you still, his dick so far down your throat that there’s tears starting to fall down your cheeks as you choke and gag on him until he finally releases you and you ease off for a few seconds to catch your breath, making sure you continue pumping him with your hand as you do.

“You can do better than that, Sweetheart” Dave tsks. “Come on, suck it like you mean it”

You gladly rise to the challenge, taking him into your mouth again and your head bobs up and down, swallowing down as much of him as you can and your hand making up for whatever your mouth can’t reach. Dave lets out a soft moan from above you and all your focus is concentrated on making him feel good, but your ears do pick up the distinct clinking sound of metal and your eyes shift to your peripheral where you see Marcus opening his belt and scrambling to get his own hand inside his pants. It ignites something in you and you double your efforts with Dave, moaning around his cock as you move your hand down to cup his balls and swallow him harder and take him deeper down your throat until you're choking on his cock again and your eyes are watering.

“Fuck Pike, I didn’t know you married a goddamn whore, Jesus Christ” Dave groans, his breath coming out in short pants. “Taking my cock like a pro”

“Good girl. Mmmm. Good fucking girl” Dave is practically growling at you as you look up at him with tear stained cheeks. His grip in your hair is tight and it only spurs you on to keep going, despite how raw your throat feels. You hollow your cheeks and continue to take as much of him in as you can.

“Oh fuck.”

Its a tiny whisper from across the room, and despite the debauched sounds of your sucking and slurping around Dave’s cock your ears still pick up Marcus’ little whimper.

Your throat needs a breather and so you pull off of Dave but ensure to keep pleasuring him with your hand instead, working him all the way up to the head and back to the base while your other hand continues playing with his balls. You feel them tightening up in your hand and he hisses through his teeth, tossing his head back.

“Fuck, enough, enough” Dave warns, hand coming up to grab yours around his shaft and stilling your movements.

“I’m not near done with you Sweetheart, if you make me cum I’m going to be very upset” he threatens and you simply swallow and nod your head.

“Take off your panties then undress me” he instructs next and you comply, slowly dragging your panties down your legs. You’re about to kick them off to the floor when something else comes to mind and you smirk as you reach for them dangling at your feet and toss them over to Marcus instead. You know they’re soaked and you want him to know it too.

“Fuck baby” You hear Marcus groan and you chance a glance over to him. His cock is fully out in his hand now and to your surprise he takes your wet panties and wraps it around his dick and continues stroking, eyes closing and head falling back in pleasure. Dave looks over to Marcus too and doesn’t seem to mind what he sees, just lets out a little chuckle over how wrecked Marcus is already. You honestly can’t believe that Marcus is freely jerking off right in front of Dave. He normally gets embarrassed even if you accidentally catch him doing it.

“Might be hope for your husband yet” Dave teases, bringing his gaze back to you and tossing you a wink.

You smile brightly, this is exactly what you wanted. You love Marcus with all your heart and you’re not dissatisfied with him or his efforts in the bedroom, but you always hoped to have a little bit more variety . Though you were initially shocked that he had suggested something like this to begin with, you still jumped at the chance to broaden both your horizons.

Turns out, Dave York was exactly what you both needed.

“Fuck” Dave snaps you out of your reverie as he hisses through his teeth and squeezes the base of his cock. His tip is steadily leaking precum, the head looking angry and purple, staving off its impending release. He’s close. Apparently closer than he’d like to be.

“Need to pace myself, this is going to be a marathon, not a sprint” he explains and your eyebrow raises at that, not sure what all exactly Dave has in store for the three of you tonight.

You undress him as he asked, wasting no time at all or bothering to put any flourish on it, you just want him naked with you as quickly as possible, already anticipating what’s to come.

“Come on,” he says, gesturing his head towards the bed. He walks over to the head of the bed and gets in, sitting up with his back straight against the headboard and motions for you to come to him. You get on all fours and crawl up the bed to him and he pulls you into his lap so you’re kneeled with your legs on either side of his, straddling him and to your delighted surprise, he pulls you forward and kisses you.

It’s exploratory at first as your mouth opens to him and his tongue tastes yours for the first time. You moan when you feel the wet muscle tangle with yours and your hands instinctively come up to tug on Dave’s hair, keeping him impossibly close as his kisses get progressively rougher and deeper the longer they go on. He feels so different from Marcus. Dave is clean shaven whereas Marcus has always had a short-trimmed beard since the day you met him. You liked the scratchy feel of when he’d nuzzle at your neck or especially when he’s between your thighs but kissing Dave is like a whole new experience. Your hands leave his hair to hold his smooth face instead and you try to imagine what Marcus would look like without facial hair but you think you prefer him the way he is.

Your husband is hot. But then, Dave wasn’t so bad himself.

You’re kissing for at least several minutes. You’re not sure, you’ve lost track of time and apparently control as you whimper and whine and moan into Dave’s mouth and grind into his lap. At some point his hand makes its way between your legs, fingers gliding through your slick folds and playing with the tiny little bundle of nerves, pinching it between the pads of his fingers and the noises you are making should have you embarrassed but you’re way past that with Dave now. You reach down to him as well, wrapping as much of your hand around him as you can and lazily stroking his length. Dave hums against your lips and then rewards you by shoving two fingers into your wet heat.

A little high pitched squeak escapes you and you jolt slightly in Dave’s lap when his other hand lands on your ass in a smack before he grabs and kneads the soft flesh roughly and suddenly you’re moaning into his mouth again. He continues palming and kneading at the globe of your ass cheek until his hand wanders slightly and your hips jolt again when you feel a single digit pressing up against the tight ring of muscle at your back entrance.

“Our boy ever take care of you back here Sweetheart?” He asks between kisses, slightly prodding at your virgin hole but not quite pushing inside and causing a not unpleasant little wave of pressure to build up in you.

“Mnmm mmm” you shake your head. “I’ve um, yeah, never, before…” you trail off and Dave chuckles.

“Figures” he scoffs. “Well that’ll be a lesson for another day Sweetheart, want you good and ready for that one” he explains and a new flood of arousal comes over you with the subtle promise of a next time. You continue kissing and fondling each other a few more moments longer until he suddenly tears his mouth away from you.

“Look at your husband now Sweetheart” Dave whispers into your ear and you turn your head back to Marcus. His eyes are squeezed shut and he’s huffing short little breaths as he pumps his cock at a brutal pace.

“Think he wants your tight little ass filled up by my fat cock, hm?” Dave continues muttering absolute filth against your ear, knowing full well Marcus can hear him and then seconds later Marcus gasps and is spilling into his own hand, sputtering out a moan from deep in his throat as he milks himself dry. You hear Dave chuckling as his hands leave you and come up to rest on your hips.

“I think we put on a good little show” he emphasizes his point by slapping your ass again and then grabbing a handful of each cheek in both his hands and squeezing before he forces your hips down to grind against his lap once and you choke out a gasp as the head of his cock slides through your soaked core.

“Pike!” Dave suddenly calls, snapping Marcus out of his post-orgasm daze and his eyes shoot open. “Not much of a gentleman, cumming before your wife” he tuts.

“I’m sorry Honey” Marcus pants, still breathless and shyly tucking himself back into his underwear.

“It’s ok Baby, it was hot” you’re sure to tell him. Marcus blushes furiously, looking away from you both as he works on doing his pants back up.

“Come here Sweetheart” Dave begins, turning you in his grasp until you’re facing away from him and then he hunches forward to rest his chin on your shoulder so he can speak into your ear but keep his gaze trained on Marcus.

“Now, you’re gonna sit on my cock and keep it warm for me while your husband makes up for what he’s done” Dave explains, ensuring to speak loud enough for Marcus to hear. “C’mon, up” he begins again, landing a light smack to your hip and you obey, lifting your hips and Dave wraps an arm around you to steady you while his free hand holds his cock still and he lowers you down onto it.

“Ohhhhh fuuuccck” you gasp softly as you sink down on his length. You were more than prepared to take him, thanks to Dave’s fingers working you open earlier but there’s still a considerable stretch around his girth that is bordering between pleasure and pain as his cock splits you wide open.

You’re sitting on his lap with your legs stretched out and lying on top of his, like two bodies simply stacked on top of one another, your legs spread out in a v-shape in front of you. The position is certainly new to you and you’re not exactly sure how it’s supposed to work, how he can fuck into you in this position.

“That’s it” Dave hums against your ear before gently nipping at the lobe and then soothing over it with his tongue. You grind down onto his cock. You can’t help it but you need him to move, you need something, but just as quickly as you begin you feel both his hands grip roughly onto your hips, hard enough to surely leave bruises.

“Don’t move” he growls and then nips harshly at your earlobe, causing you to hiss out in pain for a brief second which quickly turns into a moan when he sucks the lobe gently into his mouth immediately afterwards. “I told you what happens if you make me cum before I want to” he vaguely threatens and you nod your head obediently.

“I’m sorry” you squeak. “It won’t happen again D-Daddy”

You don’t mean for it to slip out, but it does. Another little fantasy of yours, but one that you’d never shared with Marcus nor had the urge to. Marcus was too soft, too sweet. But Dave was rough and mean checked every box when it came to this particular kink of yours.

“Jesus Christ Sweetheart” Dave groans suddenly, he’s back behind you and his forehead comes down to rest in the middle of your back and you feel his cock twitch inside you.

Apparently Dave likes that. You smirk, finally having the upper hand for once.

“You wanna be my good little girl, huh?” Dave finally speaks again after regaining his composure. His voice is rough again and you love it, offering a little nod of your head.

“Say it” he growls, hand coming up to squeeze gently around your throat.

“Wanna be so good for you Daddy” you whine, your eyes flitting across the room to meet with Marcus’ who’s watching intently.

“That’s it” his hand loosens its grip on your throat and caresses over it instead and your head lolls back onto his shoulder.

“You never heard of cockwarming Sweetheart?” he asks and you shake your head again and it earns a little chuckle from Dave. “Well it’s just what it sounds like, baby. You’re gonna sit here and be a nice warm little sleeve for my dick. No fucking, yet. Do you understand?”

You nod weakly. God you just want to move, the pressure is agonizing and you're closing your eyes and breathing through your nose, trying your hardest not to squirm.

“Now you’re gonna be a good girl and cum on my cock” he informs you and you’re a little confused at how he expects you to just cum on command if he won’t let either of you move.

“Pike” he snaps and that gets your attention, your eyes shooting open again. Marcus scrambles to his feet, the authority in Dave’s voice leaving little room for him to do anything else apparently.

“Yes?” Marcus asks, voice trembling slightly as he now stands next to the bed, nervously curling his hands into fists at his sides.

Dave seems completely comfortable naked in his own skin in front of your husband and you’d be lying if you said it wasn’t a total turn on. Of course most of his body was covered by yours, but still, Marcus definitely had a superb view of Dave’s cock buried to the hilt inside your cunt.

“I bet you our good ol’ boy Marcus here is just great at eating your little pussy, isn’t he Sweetheart?” Dave murmurs against the side of your face and you feel that familiar heat rising in your cheeks again as you nod your head.

Marcus was in fact exceptionally skilled in that particular area, and more than happy to do it for you. You’d never been with anybody before who actually loved going down on you. Most guys before Marcus treated it like a chore whereas Marcus thrived on it. He’d stay buried in your cunt for hours if you’d let him. He’d joke sometimes while he was down there, face buried between your thighs that he could live there and you didn’t doubt he would if he could.

It's not until you see Marcus nervously shift in front of you that you realize you hadn’t actually answered Dave out loud.

“Yes!” you reply enthusiastically. “He’s um, very good to me” a little of your shyness returns and Dave tuts from behind you.

“I figured. Looks like a little puppy, just eager to please isn’t he?” Dave chuckles and now it’s Marcus’ face that burns bright crimson.

“Go on then, lick your wife's pussy. Need her to cum good and hard before I fuck her into next Tuesday” Dave says menacingly and a shiver runs down your spine.

Marcus goes to climb on the bed before Dave clicks his tongue and stops him, Marcus freezing in place with one knee on the bed.

“He normally all dressed up when eats you out baby?” Dave asks and you slowly shake your head. It was true, Marcus had an amazing body and was never shy about showing it around you. He preferred both of you to be completely naked whenever you did anything in bed together, including sleeping. Marcus was a very intimate and sensual lover, it was one of the things that made you fall for him in the first place.

“Well, tell him then” Dave nods his head towards Marcus.

“Come here baby,” you say softly and Marcus slowly slides his leg back off the bed and takes a few steps closer until he’s standing next to you and you tug him down by his tie to kiss him once.

“For me baby, please?” You plead up at him and he gently nods his head before he steps back from the bed and begins removing his clothes.

Dave seems to lose interest in the sweet little exchange between the two of you and begins kissing and sucking down the side of your throat while his hands roam your body and come up to squeeze both your tits. You try to keep your eyes on Marcus but all they want to do is close and succumb to the pleasure that Dave is giving you now.

“Ready?” Marcus asks and you focus your attention back on him. He’s fully undressed now, cock soft and hanging delicately between his legs but you know it won’t be long until he gets his second wind. Putting his mouth between your legs is always a surefire way to get him going again in no time, you know this well from experience.

“Please Marcus” you whine. Your cunt is throbbing from being impaled on Dave’s cock and not being able to move and now with Dave making you feel good everywhere else you’re desperate for the attention where it’s needed most.

“I’ve got you Honey” he promises, and you know he does.

He crawls onto the bed again, the mattress dipping under his weight and Dave wordlessly spreads his own legs further apart, forcing yours with them to open up wider for Marcus to fit in between you.

Marcus looks a little unsure of how to begin. Normally he likes to wrap his hands up under your thighs to hold your hips down and bury his face in you but with you sitting on top of Dave that would mean touching the other man and so he hesitates.

“We’re well past shy now Pike, come on” Dave chuckles. “Make her cum on my cock like the good little slut she is” he snides and your cunt clenches at his vulgar remarks.

“Ohhh, she likes that” Dave laughs from behind you. “You better hurry up Pike or she might not even need your mouth, I think mine’s doing just fine”

Apparently that was all the threatening that Marcus needed because suddenly he dives into your pussy like a man starved. His one hand rests on your hip while the other uses his fingers to spread your lips apart and you all but scream when Marcus' mouth latches on to your clit and sucks it into his mouth.

“Oh shit!” you jerk forward involuntarily and then instantly feel Dave’s bruising grip on your waist again, keeping you still.

“Don’t fucking move or I’ll tell him to stop” Dave growls into your ear and you whimper but weakly nod your head in agreement. Your hand comes down to play in Marcus’ hair instead, needing the distraction. You’re clutching the short strands and holding him as close to you as possible since you’re not allowed to chase the pressure of his mouth with your own body and he hums in appreciation as he continues his assault with a skilled, well-practiced tongue.

“Fuck Pike, she is flooding my cock right now” Dave groans and Marcus moans into your cunt as he continues lapping away at you with renewed enthusiasm that he’s bringing you so much pleasure.

Dave’s not lying. You’re absolutely drenching his cock. You feel so full with Dave’s dick buried inside you and with Marcus’ mouth working its magic everywhere else, you are left positively reeling. Your head falls back again and you can do little more than whimper and whine and mewl in Dave’s firm grasp.

“Oh fuck, Oh Marcus, baby” you whine, your whole body trembling and it spurs Marcus on, his tongue working you over even faster, firmer as his his hands start to explore. He moves them to the outside of your thighs and then pushes even further back until they reach Dave’s hips and he squeezes, surprising all three of you as Dave’s cock jolts inside of you briefly and then he stills again.

“Come here” Dave growls, one hand leaving your waist to turn your face towards him and he swallows your moans with his mouth, his other hand wrapping all the way across your waist to keep you still. You're not sure who needs the distraction more, you or Dave, but you keep sloppily kissing each other regardless. Dave’s hips raise just slightly, bringing yours with him and you realize suddenly that Marcus has his hands shoved all the way underneath you both, his large hands squeezing Dave’s ass while his mouth is still buried in your wet heat and now it’s you swallowing down Dave’s moans.

“Baby, I love you so much” you hear Marcus whimper from below you. He’s grinding his hips into the mattress now and you know he’s hard again.

Dave’s hand leaves your face and comes to grip around your throat and your mouth is forced away from his as you fight to keep air in your lungs. His grip is tight but not crushing, like he knows exactly what he’s doing and how much pressure to apply. You assume Marcus likely told him of your little attempt at a foray into this area before that hadn’t worked out the way you hoped.

You know you can still breathe (albeit barely) but all the blood rushes to your head and you almost feel like you could pass out until he releases some pressure again and a blissed out smile stretches across your features as you gasp for breath and another wave of pleasure hits you.

“Good fucking girl, you like that huh?” Dave growls against your kiss-swollen lips before he shoves his tongue back inside to kiss you roughly.

“Oh fuck!” Your mouth tears away from Dave’s as Marcus hits a particular spot on your clit and suddenly something hits you hard and fast and you lurch forward.

Marcus’ hands are back on your legs and then he moves one to spread your lips open again and starts flicking his tongue back and forth hard and fast, his gaze penetrating through yours and suddenly your vision goes white behind your eyes.

“Oh shit, Marcus I think I - oh fuck stop, please, I’m gonna-” you don’t have a chance to finish your thought and suddenly your mouth wrenches open in a silent scream as a flood gate opens, your walls clamp down on Dave like a vice and Marcus is groaning into you, lapping at you with renewed enthusiasm and before you even have half a chance to comprehend what is happening, you feel both of Dave’s arms wrap around your middle as he too lurches forward and his cock begins pulsing, spilling inside of you and he lets out a wrecked moan from behind you.

“Fuck, fuck, fuuuccck” he pants, head coming down to rest on your shoulder as his dick continues throbbing inside of you and painting your walls with his hot spend.

“Baby” Marcus moans into your aching core. “You just fucking squirted” he says before pulling back slightly with a huge grin on his face, the evidence of your earth shattering orgasm dripping down his chin.

“I - what?” It makes sense now, the wave that came over you. You honestly thought you were about to pee in Marcus’ mouth, you’d never felt anything like it before. You always thought that was just some trick done in pornos, never having experienced it yourself before.

Dave lifts you off his cock with a grunt and puts you back to rest in his lap and suddenly Marcus’ mouth is on you again, lapping up yours and Dave’s combined releases from your fluttering hole and Dave is oddly quiet behind you, his head resting against yours and his breathing still coming out in short little huffs as he tries to desperately to slow his racing heart. His spent (and drenched, thanks to you) dick lies just underneath your sex and you don’t fail to notice how every once and a while when Marcus laps at you that his tongue dips a little lower to stroke along Dave’s softening cock. You also don’t miss how Dave’s body jerks a little when it happens and his arms squeeze you a little tighter but he makes no effort to stop or scold Marcus.

“Christ, I told you not to make me cum” Dave says, shaking his head gently against yours but there’s no edge to his voice, he’s far from mad about it.

“I’m sorry Daddy, I didn’t know I could do that” you admit sheepishly, turning your face to him to press a kiss to his lips.

Marcus thankfully slows his efforts between your legs and switches to planting open mouth kisses on the insides of your thighs instead, avoiding your oversensitive sex. His hands are back up on top of your hips now and yours come down to intertwine your fingers with his while continuing to lick and moan into Dave’s mouth.

“I’m sorry Sweetheart, I’m going to need a breather” Dave says after a few more moments pass, pushing back from your mouth. “Pike, keep this pussy occupied for me, I’ll be back for it” he announces before his hand comes down to cup your mound and squeeze.

Dave is lifting you again slightly so he can slide out from under you and Marcus is kneeled at the end of the bed now sitting back on his heels obediently awaiting his next instructions.

“You got a couple more in you, right Sweetheart?” Dave asks as he stands next to the bed now and grips your chin in his hand.

“Mmmmhmm” you nod your head. “Yes”

“Good girl” he smirks. “Now fuck your husband. I’m going to get some water and then I’ll be back and ready for you again” he tells you and then simply saunters out of the room fully nude and not a care in the world. You watch him go and out of the corner of your eye you see Marcus’ head turn too and suddenly you need him more than ever.

“Come here baby” you coo, reaching for Marcus and he turns back to you, takes your hand and lets you pull him to you. He kisses you sweetly, night-and-day to the way Dave did and you hum appreciatively into his mouth as you taste the heady and salty blend of yours and Dave’s combined releases on his tongue. As much as Dave turned you on with his aggressive side there was something in Marcus’ softness that you absolutely craved still.

“Make love to me baby, please” you whisper against his lips and you feel Marcus nod his head.

“Lie down” he instructs and you do, shuffling further down the bed until your back is no longer upright. Marcus leans over you to kiss you languidly for a few more long moments until he finally pulls back and takes his aching hard length in his hand and gives himself a few strokes.

“Ready?” he asks, always checking in, your sweet Marcus.

“Ready” you nod and then he lifts your left leg straight up into the air until your toes are pointed at the ceiling and he pushes himself inside of you, your heat easily swallowing him in with how wet you still were from earlier. The angle he’s at makes him hit impossibly deep inside you and you’re already squirming, needing him to move.

“Holy shit” Marcus looks like his eyes are about to bulge out of his head and he takes a moment to still inside of you once he’s buried to the hilt. “Fuck you’re soaked baby, Jesus. Fuck!”

“You did that to me baby” you praise him with an easy smile as you bring a hand up to push through his golden brown locks. To be fair, you assume it's some kind of combination of your cunt being full of Dave’s cock and Marcus’ skilled tongue stimulating your clit but either way, Marcus got you there.

He wraps one arm around your raised leg to keep himself steady and the other comes down to grip at your hip and he slowly eases himself nearly all the way out and then just as slowly back inside.

“Ohhhhhhh” you whimper at the sensation of his tip bumping against your cervix. “Fuck baby that’s so good. You’re so deep in me”

“Yeah?” Marcus breathes, still taking his time, slowly pushing forward and back with his hips. “God you feel so good honey”

“You want it slow?” He asks and you nod your head frantically.

“Yeah baby, just like that, feels so good, you filling me up”

“Oh fuck” Marcus moans, sliding in and out of your wet heat. Thank God you wanted it slow because he knows he’d be moments away from cumming way too quickly otherwise. He’s not sure he’s ever been so worked up in his lifetime.

He continues to ease in and out of you, slowly picking up pace as you both pant and whimper and moan. Your eyes are locked on to each other, the love pouring out between you with a simple gaze and you’re both so in the moment that neither of you hear Dave come back into the room.

He’s leaning on the door frame, drinking his water and just watching, not interrupting. Marcus’ slim little hips rock back and forth into you and you take every inch of him so well and it's not long before Dave’s own cock begins to swell again between his legs. He reaches down to palm his dick, gently squeezing and stroking as he watches the intimate scene playing out before him.

Marcus is whispering little words of love and adoration for you and your hand comes down on top of his and you interlock your fingers together, giving his hand a little squeeze.

Normally this would bore him. Vanilla bores Dave but yet, watching what transpires between the two of you actually leaves him feeling a little jealous. He hasn’t had somebody he cares for like you two do each other since… well, ever, maybe. Even his ex-wife, it was just as much to keep up appearances as anything else. He’s never looked at anybody the way Marcus looks at you, that much he’s sure of. His hand slows on his cock, suddenly feeling like he’s intruding and he quietly gathers up his clothes and backs out of the room, neither of you even noticing him while he successfully slinks out.

He redresses in the hallway bathroom and heads down to the front door to take his leave but stops to type a quick text into his phone first.

Pike, you’re one lucky man. And that wife of yours loves you, you don’t ever have to worry about that. But if either of you ever feel the need for my services again, you have my number. - York.

An hour later when you and Marcus both lay spent and satisfied and idly wondering where your third partner went, he reaches down to the floor to his discarded pants and fishes his phone out of the pocket and brings it up to read the missed text. He chuckles a little at it and then turns the screen to you and you snuggle up closer to read it and you smile before pressing a kiss into Marcus’ shoulder.

Less than a month passes before Marcus texts Dave back an eager reply, starting up a group text conversation between the three of you, aptly naming the convo “Three’s Not Always a Crowd”.

“So… next playdate, when? 😉”

Next chapter

*clears throat* ahem. so... there you have it folks. Want more of this tasty trio? Lmk!

Tagging @nerdieforpedro, @chronically-ghosted @macabremads @boliv-jenta @prolix-yuy @suzdin

[sissylittlefeather]

I done did it again, y'all.

Suspicious Minds: Part 1

A/N: I watched the movie Argylle and was hit with some insane inspiration and I just couldn't control it. So, please enjoy the first part of this modern AU spy!Elvis x reader fic. I really wanted this to be a one-shot, but I hit 5k words at what I think is the halfway point and had to split it. I'm really excited to write part 2 for this one...

@ccab You know I love you so much. Thank you for screaming about this with me.

Warnings: 18+ minors do not interact, this is intense, gun violence, espionage, cussing, an erection, masturbation (female), kissing, oral sex (f receiving), p in v penetrative sex, unprotected sex, creampie, I hope that's everything

Word count: ~5.5k

You adjust your glasses and look back at the computer screen. Your mom is always on you about not staring at a screen in the dark. She's convinced you'll ruin your eyesight, but it's not going to get any better, so why worry? Instead, you focus in again and go back to the hacking you've been working on for the past twelve hours. When you get in this mode, you don't sleep. For you it's like a game. You have a mission and you won't stop until you manage to finish it. You mainly do contract work for government agencies, cracking encryptions and writing code to secure against other hackers. But this was a private contract for a company you didn't recognize. Still, the money was unbelievable, so you took the job just as seriously, put on your EDM music, and got to work.

Now, 12 hours later, you throw your hands in the air in celebration. You finally got to what you were trying to get to. Your assignment is to download what you found onto a flash drive and deliver it to a lock box. But instead, you decide to take a peek at what you've uncovered.

It's maps. But they're maps with what look like targets and information that you're pretty sure you shouldn't see. This appears to be information that is vital to national security. You've done this kind of work before, but never for a private contract. You start to wonder if you should give it to the people who have asked for it. The flash drive blinks red to indicate that all of the information is saved. You eject it and hold it in your hand. Then, you set it on your desk and head to bed. It's 3am and the sunrise will be here before you know it.

******

You wake up with a hand on your mouth and scream into his palm.

"Sh sh sh... I'm the good guy. You're okay, honey, hush." You stop screaming mostly out of shock and he takes his hand off of you slowly.

"Who the fuck-" He puts his hand back over your mouth. Your eyes meet his blue ones and he's shockingly reassuring.

"My name is Elvis. I'm here to protect you. So please stop making noise." His southern drawl is comforting, for some reason. He moves his hand off of your mouth again. You whisper.

"Protect me from what? Or whom, I guess?"

"Where is the flash drive?"

"What?" Just then you hear your front door bust open.

"Goddamnit." He stands up away from your bed and you sit up frantically. "Get dressed, but don't make any noise."

He walks into the living room and you slide out of bed to the floor and crawl over to your closet. You grab some jeans and a bra and get dressed as quickly and quietly as you can, purposely ignoring the sounds of the struggle coming from the living room. But when you hear what sounds like a silenced gunshot, you gasp and run to the doorway. Elvis turns to you, having just shot a man who lays on your carpet bleeding.

"Go back in your room!" The other guy grabs him and punches him in the face, causing him to drop the gun. They trade hits back and forth and you watch. At one point, Elvis kicks the gun and it slides over and hits your feet. The other guy gets him in a headlock and he hollers to you.

"Throw me the gun!"

"The what?" You're so in shock that you can't understand the words he's saying.

"The gun! At your feet!" You look down and see it there, but your brain has a hard time making sense of what's happening. "Just pick it up and throw it to me!"

You pick up the gun and hold it in your hand. You've never held a gun before. It's heavier than you expected.

"Honey, throw it!" You look up at Elvis and he's struggling with the guy wrapped around his neck. You toss it gently and it lands about a foot away from him. He shakes his head at you and then grunts, throwing the guy over him onto the floor. You gasp as he grabs the gun and shoots the guy in the head. As the blood spreads over your floor, you inhale sharply and start to pass out. Elvis catches you and shakes you.

"Not yet, baby. Where is the flash drive?"

"The what?"

"The flash drive! With the information you downloaded from earlier!"

"Oh! It's on my desk." You walk to it and grab it, holding it up for him to see. He snatches it away from you.

"We need to hide this somewhere they'll never expect. Go get your dildo."

"My what?!"

"Your dildo, I'm going to-"

"I do not have one of those."

"Yes, you do. It's pink."

"How do you-"

"Not important! Go get it!" You purse your lips and run to your nightstand.

"It's a vibrator, not a dildo."

"Okay, whatever. Lemme have it." You hand it to him and he opens the end, dumping the batteries on the ground. He slides the flash drive into it and then closes it again.

"Wait... will I get it back?" He walks to you and put his hand on your cheek.

"Honey, stick with me long enough and you won't need it anymore." You blush. He's unimaginably attractive, but you try to ignore what he just said. "Pack a bag. We need to go."

You grab a duffel bag and throw some clothes and toiletries in it as fast as possible. Before you zip it up, he tosses the vibrator in the top and lets you close it.

"Wait. Why should I trust you?" He stops and turns back to face you, running his hand through his black hair in exasperation.

"Honey, I just killed two guys to protect you. You really need to ask that?" You shrug your shoulders and look up at him.

"I don't know you." He grabs your shoulders and looks into your eyes.

"My name is Elvis Presley. I'm an agent for the good guys. I'm here to take care of you and make sure no harm comes to you or that flash drive of information you collected. I promise you can trust me. Now, we need to go. Are you coming?"

You look into his face for half a second and then nod. You're not sure where this is going or even how you got here, but you have no choice other than to trust this man.

You run down the stairs of your apartment building with him close behind you. He puts his hand on the small of your back and practically pushes you toward his car. When you get to it, your mouth drops open. It's a 1970 Stutz Blackhawk.

"Isn't this a little conspicuous?" You ask as you slide into the passenger seat. He gets in and closes the door, starting it up.

"It's too conspicuous. No one would ever think it's mine. What kind of spy drives a car like this?"

"Are you James Bond?" He laughs as he pulls out onto the street.

"No. Bond is British." You think it's interesting that that's what he chooses to prove his difference. Like everything else about them is the same. You look out the window as buildings flash by. The sun is starting to peek over the horizon and it hits you that you've only had a couple of hours of sleep.

"Where are we going?" You ask sleepily, yawning.

"Somewhere safe. But we won't be there for a while. You can go to sleep." You shake your head and try to stay alert.

"No. I'm okay." But you're not. Not at all.

"Honey, this is going to be a long road. You should rest while you can. I won't let anything happen to you." He reaches out and pats your knee softly. You look down at his hand. It's an unexpectedly kind gesture. The exhaustion sets in and you decide to trust that you're safe with him, for now at least. You lean your head against the window and close your eyes, sleep setting in before you have time to think of anything else.

******

You wake up and stretch. That was the strangest dream. It feels like you're on a couch though. You don't remember it, but you must've fallen asleep in the living room after finishing your work.

"You're awake."

You sit up suddenly. It wasn't a dream. He's real. You look around the room and try to figure out where you are, but your surroundings are completely unfamiliar.

"Where are we?"

"Somewhere safe. Are you hungry?" The smell of bacon makes your stomach growl.

"Yes."

"I'm not much of a cook, but I made some peanut butter and banana sandwiches, if you want one." You frown.

"Why do I smell bacon?" A wide smile spreads across his face and a boyish charm shines through that you didn't expect from a hot shot agent.

"C'mere." You walk to the table and he sets a plate in front of you. On it is a sandwich with peanut butter, bananas, and bacon. You wrinkle your nose. "Just try it before you make that face."

You cautiously take a bite. It's better than you expected. Much better. You look up at him surprised and he holds his hands out.

"See! It's good!"

"It really is." He sits down next to you and you both eat your sandwiches. After a few more bites, a thought comes to you. "How did I get in here?"

"I carried you." He says it matter-of-factly like it's something he does all the time.

"Oh. What time is it?" You look around the room for a clock and realize for the first time that you don't have your phone. You must've left it in your apartment.

"It's a little after 2pm. You slept for a while."

The conversation continues and you make small talk. Once you finish eating, you work together to clean up the kitchen and then settle on the couch. It's very small, so you have to sit pretty close together. He turns on the TV and you spend the bulk of the afternoon there. For dinner, he orders a pizza and you sit together and eat awkwardly again. The evening passes in front of the TV and before you know it, it's time for bed. He stands up and walks from room to room.

"I'll be damned." He shakes his head frustratedly.

"What?"

"There's only one goddamn bed in this house. I'll have to sleep on the couch." You both look over at the tiny couch. It's essentially a love seat, so there's no way he will fit on there comfortably.

"Or I could?"

"No, you need to be in the bed behind a door, in case someone comes in during the night." You swallow deeply. That prospect is terrifying.

"O-okay, then. Goodnight..." He nods and you take your bag into the room with the bed. Once you have your pajamas on, you settle into the bed and the reality of your situation hits you. It's like the adrenaline from the day wears off and it becomes clear to you just how scary things are right now. The tears gather in your eyes and then start to slide down your face. Will your life ever go back to normal? What happens if these guys catch up to you? Before you know it, you're crying pretty hard, holding yourself and trying to breathe.

Elvis sits on the couch in the living room and tries not to hear you crying. He's been assigned to protect plenty of women, but there's something about you that makes him a little crazy. He shouldn't even think about what he's considering right now. Still, he considers it as the sounds of you crying come from the bedroom. It's torture for him to know how scared and alone you must be in there. He lays back on the little couch and tries to get comfortable.

"Goddamnit."

You're in the bed with tears on your cheeks when you hear the door open. You sit up quickly and see Elvis in the doorway.

"You alright?"

"No. Why the fuck would I be alright?! My life is literally in shambles. And I'm stuck here with..."

"With me?"

"No, that's not what I meant. I just mean... I'm scared. And I have no one." He sits down next to you on the bed. He almost whispers.

"You have me." You look up at him and he reaches out and wipes the tears off your cheek with his thumb. You're not sure why he's being so sweet to you, but it's exactly what you need right now.

"Will you... will you stay with me?" He clears his throat and pulls his hand back.

"Oh... you know..."

"Never mind. It's okay." You look down at your hands in your lap and try to ignore the lump in your throat.

"Yes. I'll stay in here with you. It's probably better that I stay close to protect you anyway. And there won't be any sleeping on that couch. The bed is the better option." You look up at him and nod.

Yes, he's sleeping with you because the couch is too small. Not because he can't stop wondering what it would feel like to wrap his arms around you. You lay down and he lays down next to you without touching you. You reach over and turn the lamp off.

"Well, goodnight." He looks over at you in the dark.

"Goodnight, Elvis."

You both lay there silently trying to fall asleep. It takes a while, but eventually you drift off.

******

In the morning, you wake up with your back pressed against him and his arm around you. You don't think anything of it really until you feel him. He has a massive erection and it's currently pushing up against you. You start to giggle uncontrollably and your movement wakes him up.

"What's going on? Why are you laughing?"

"Y-you..." You get out in between giggles. "I can feel you..."

"Fucking hell." He rolls away from you quickly, but it's even more obvious when he's on his back. "Goddamnit. I'm sorry."

He sits up on the edge of the bed facing away from you.

"I'm sorry. I just... it's morning... God..." You're laughing so hard that you can hardly breathe. He stands up and walks quickly to the door, muttering as he goes. "I'll sleep on the couch tonight."

He leaves you in the room laughing and hoping that he doesn't sleep on the couch.

The day passes slowly and awkwardly with the two of you eating sandwiches and watching TV again. Around noon, you decide to take a shower.

"I'm not sure that's smart."

"Why not?"

"I can't protect you if I can't see you." You roll your eyes.

"I've been fine this whole time. I think I'll be okay for a twenty minute shower." He thinks for a minute.

"Leave the door cracked."

"What? No!" He sighs, exasperated.

"I won't look. I'll just be able to hear you and get in fast if anything happens. Otherwise, no shower."

"Okay, fine."

You leave the door cracked and get into the shower, looking in the mirror to make sure he isn't watching. He's nowhere to be found, so you relax and let the hot water wash over you. It feels so good running down your skin, cutting hot pathways on your shoulders and thighs. Suddenly, a thought wriggles its way into your brain and won't go away. You imagine him in the shower with you, pressed up against your back. What you felt this morning is hard to ignore and you wonder what he looks like without his clothes on. You think about his hands running over your body and before you know it, it's not the shower making you wet. You peek in the mirror again to make sure Elvis is still not looking. When you're satisfied he's not there, your hand slides down the front of your abdomen until your fingers find your clit. You begin to make circles and think about his mouth. He has a beautiful mouth and the thought of it pressed to you as his tongue makes circles on you just about drives you wild. You slide a finger into yourself and pump it in and out as you continue to rub over and around your sensitive bud. Then, you imagine him on top of you, slamming his cock into you and without thinking, you moan.

"Elvis..." You say it quietly, but it's loud enough for him to hear it with the door cracked. He stands just outside and looks in the mirror to make sure you're okay. He can see the outline of your body through the foggy glass shower door. That's when he realizes what you're doing and swallows hard. When you cum, hard, on your own hand and say his name again, he almost loses it.

He cannot be having these thoughts about you. Sure, he's had sex with girls on missions before, it's practically his trademark, but something about this feels different. He doesn't want to fuck you. He wants to make love to you. And that thought terrifies him. He peels himself away from the door and goes to sit back on the couch. His erection is back, but there's not much he can do about it right now, so he tries to think of anything else to make it go away. He's dying to go into the other bathroom and do exactly what you just did, but he can't leave you alone. Instead, he tucks himself up under his belt quickly when he hears the water turn off.

"FUCK." He hits the couch next to him and then sits with his head in his hands. This cannot be happening.

"Are you okay?" He looks up at you quickly, standing there with your hair wet.

"Mhmmm. Yep, I'm fine."

"You don't look fine." You think to yourself that he looks like he's about to cry.

"Well I am. Let's just... watch TV, okay?"

"Okay..." You sit down on the couch next to him and spend the rest of the afternoon watching TV. What you don't know is that Elvis is in misery being so close to you without touching you. And what he doesn't know is that you want him to touch you more than anything in the world.

******

Finally, evening comes and you start to get hungry.

"What's for dinner?"

"Well. I'm kind of a one-trick pony in the kitchen. I don't think you want another sandwich." He seems to have relaxed after whatever happened earlier.

"I can cook."

"Or we can just go get something."

"No, I'd like to cook for you. As a thank you for protecting me." He tries not to give himself away by how he looks at you, but the tension between you is palpable. "Can we go to the store? Is that allowed?"

"Yes, that should be fine. If they knew where we were we'd know it by now."

You get back into the Blackhawk and make your way to the grocery store. You're in a small town away from where you live, so there's only one store. Elvis stays close to you as you wander the aisles for what you need to make dinner. You also grab some essentials. He's not sure how long you'll have to be at the house, so you get food to keep you sustained for at least a few days. Once you've gotten everything you need and checked out, you make your way back to the house and get to work in the kitchen.

He watches as you move around gracefully and longs to put his arms around you. You notice him staring and decide he needs a task.

"Get over here and chop something."

"Yes ma'am." He salutes you jokingly and you set him up with some peppers.

"Where did you learn to cook like this?"

"My grandmother. She was an amazing cook. I spent summers with her when I was a kid, so she was able to teach me."

"That's nice."

"What was your family like? Or can't you tell me?"

"I probably shouldn't." You nod. It makes sense that he can't divulge any personal secrets. But he just can't seem to tell you no. "Fuck it. I was very close to my mother growing up. There were a lot of times when it was just me, her, and the shirts on our backs. My father worked a lot. And then she died when I was 23. I had just joined the army."

He gets very quiet and looks down at the vegetables he's chopping intentionally. You walk over and put your hand on his arm gently. The contact makes his heart jump.

"I'm sorry for your loss." He looks down into your face, his eyes flicking between yours and then down to your mouth momentarily. It takes everything in him not to lean down and kiss you.

"Thank you. Anyway I joined the military and was recruited by... who I work for now... and the rest is history."

Finally, the food is ready and you sit down to eat together again. He's impressed by your culinary skills and spends the next few minutes gushing about how good dinner is. The conversation continues and you talk about everything and nothing. Somehow, you make your way around to talking about music.

"Here's a fun question: what do you like better, singing or dancing?" He asks you as the meal comes to a conclusion.

"I'm not much of a singer, but I also don't dance, so I'm not sure how to answer that question." You respond and he laughs.

"You don't dance?"

"Well, I never really have before. Haven't had much opportunity. I was too big of a nerd to go to high school dances and in college I pretty much kept to myself."

"Then, it's not that you don't dance, you just haven't yet. We need to fix that." You're surprised by his enthusiasm, but he's eager for an excuse to touch you. He turns on the radio and finds a station with a good song.

"Really, it's okay. I don't really want to dance."

"C'mon, it's not hard." He puts his arm around your waist and pulls you in close to him. You both breathe deeply and he takes your hand in his. He moves you around the room effortlessly and your embarrassment melts away. The feeling of his arm around you is enough to distract you from anything. He dips you and spins you and before you know it you're both laughing. Eventually the song ends and he holds you close to him and looks down into your face. The next song is a slow one, so he begins to sway gently.

"See, dancing's not so bad."

"No, it's fun with you." You look up at him and his eyes flick down to your lips. He wants to kiss you. You can tell. And you want to let him.

He slowly leans forward, hovering above your mouth with your noses touching. It seems like he's trying to decide something. Eventually, he moves the slightest bit forward and presses his soft lips to yours. The kiss is a sweet one, and he kisses you again like this several times. The fourth time he kisses you, though, he parts your lips with his and dips his tongue into your mouth. By this point you've stopped dancing and both of your arms are around his neck, with both of his around your waist. The heat between you picks up as your mouths move together in a rhythm.

Suddenly, he stops and pulls away from you. He runs his hand through his hair and sighs.

"Y/n, I can't. I can't do this."

"Oh... okay..."

"I'm sorry. You should go to bed. I'll sleep on the couch."

"Okay. I'm sorry if I-"

"You didn't do anything wrong. It's me." You nod your head and walk away from him to the bedroom. After closing the door, you change into your sleeping t-shirt and crawl under the covers. The bed seems lonely without him.

In the living room, he paces back and forth, sitting down periodically. He's going through everything in his mind and trying to convince himself that there's nothing there for you. That he can reasonably fuck you and then move on like he always has. But these thoughts are invaded by other ones: the sound of your laugh, the softness of your smile, the grace with which you moved around the kitchen, and your voice saying his name in the shower. He's never been so frustrated by a woman. He starts to get a little angry. What is it about you anyway? Who are you to come into his life and interrupt it like this? He has a job to do. You're the one being all distracting and unprofessional. He needs to set you straight. You need to know that this is completely inappropriate.

You're almost asleep when the door opens dramatically. You sit up on the side of the bed and Elvis stomps over to you and sits next to you.

"You know why I can't do this, right?" He asks aggressively. You're not sure where this anger is coming from.

"Yeah, it's your job-"

"It is my job! My job is to protect you, not... this... whatever this is..." He gestures frantically to the space between you.

"Elvis, I'm not sure why you're yelling at me." He yells even louder.

"Because! You're making me feel things I don't want to feel!" He looks at you desperately, chest heaving. Your heart is pounding.

"I'm-"

His lips crash into yours with a feverish need. Everything he's just said goes out the window as his hands run over your body and he kisses down your neck. You whimper and he groans with the intense passion. He pulls your t-shirt up over your head and off, tossing it to the side. One hand immediately goes to your breast while his mouth explores the opposite nipple. Your hands are in his hair as he works, your head thrown back in pleasure. The sensation of his lips on your breast is exquisite and you moan as he lightly pinches your nipple between his thumb and forefinger. Your fingers go to the buttons on his shirt and you fumble with them for a while before he just rips it open and lets you push it backwards off of his shoulders.

He lays you down on the bed surprisingly gently and kisses down your stomach. The only thing separating you from him is your white cotton panties. He sits up on his knees, erection stretching the fabric of his pants, and hooks his fingers under the waistband of your panties. His eyes search yours for permission and you nod slightly as a smile spreads across his face. He pulls your panties down your legs and off and then presses his lips to your ankle. Pushing your legs open, he drags his finger up your slit to the bundle of nerves at the top.

"Can I make you feel good, baby?" He asks as he makes circles on you.

"God, yes, Elvis, please." You whine as he settles between your legs. He starts by pushing his tongue into you and then licking up either side of your sensitive bud. You need him to touch the right spot with his tongue so badly it almost hurts. Your legs shake with desire and he hovers about an inch away from you. You feel his breath on you and it feels like you might die with how close he is. Then, he very softly flicks your clit with the tip of his tongue. "Fuck! Elvis, please!"

Your back arches and your hips buck as you practically beg him. He continues to flick your clit with his tongue, though, adding a little more pressure each time. With each flick of his tongue, the blood rushes to your core and you feel your climax building. Finally, when you're about to scream and your orgasm is just seconds away, he dives in fully, licking your pussy with the entirety of his tongue.

"OH FUCK, ELVIS!" Your orgasm hits you like a runaway train, setting off fireworks all over your body as the pulsating waves of pleasure crash into you. He licks you through your release until you come back down to earth. Then, he sits up and wipes his face with his hand.

"I want- no, I need to make love to you. Please let me make love to you." You sit up and unbutton his pants, pushing them down to free his cock. He grunts as you take him in your hand and pump him, gently moving his foreskin back and forth.

"What are you waiting for?" You whisper. He moans deep in his throat and leans forward on top of you, kicking his pants the rest of the way off. Holding himself in one hand, he teases your clit with his tip and then lines up with your entrance. He begins to push into you slowly, giving your body a chance to adjust to his size. You feel every inch of his cock as he enters you and it fills you up perfectly. Once he's pushed into you fully, he slides almost all the way out and with a slow, deep roll of his hips fills you again. He continues to thrust into you, slow and deep, over and over. His rhythm is steady, his pace dramatic and soulful. You begin to moan softly each time his hips meet yours and he grunts in reply. There's something overwhelmingly sexy about how he's taking his time, filling you, pulling back, and then slowly filling you again. Sweat drips down his face, gathers on his chest, and wets his hair on his brow, matching your own. The feeling of him inside you is unlike anything you've ever experienced before. He reaches down to hold one of your hips, thrusting somehow even deeper than he already was. With every pump, his dick rubs against your g-spot and the slow pace has you dancing on the edge of another orgasm. Just when you think the lovemaking can't get any sweeter, he leans forward and captures your lips in a deep kiss. Then he presses his forehead to yours and closes his eyes. All the while, he's still sliding in and out of you, pushing deeper with each thrust.

"Goddamnit, baby. You feel so good." He kisses you again and his pace speeds up the slightest bit. Every time your hips meet, it feels like the next thrust will send you over the edge.

Without pulling out, he rolls over on his side and brings you with him, throwing your leg over his hip. He goes back to thrusting, increasing his speed, but not changing the depth of his strokes. Your eyes meet and his blue ones search yours for something. You're not sure what he's looking for, but you hope he finds it.

"Y/n, I- FUCK." He's interrupted when the coil of his orgasm snaps and he cums hard inside you, closing his eyes and shuddering against you. His release pushes you over the edge and you tumble into oblivion with him, pulsing and fluttering around him. He presses his forehead to yours again as he pumps weakly a few more times and then pulls out of you. Kissing your lips, he rolls over on his back and pulls you onto his chest.

"What were you going to say?"

"Hmm?"

"Right before you came. You were saying something."

"Oh, it was nothing." He thinks to himself that it absolutely was not nothing, but he was probably just caught up in the moment. It doesn't need saying now.

You nod and snuggle into him, hoping he doesn't try to go sleep on the couch. He doesn't, thankfully. He stays right there in the bed with you. He knows it's stupid and inappropriate, but he no longer cares. Maybe you'll be stuck together in the safe house for a long, long time. This is his last thought before you both drift off to sleep.

******

You wake up to the sound of birds chirping and the feeling of Elvis wrapped around you, both of you still naked. You're just about to revel in the closeness and daydream about what you'll do stuck in the safe house today, but Elvis sits straight up in bed.

"What-?"

"Shh, honey, hush." He says it quietly and you start to get scared. "Someone's in the house."

He jumps out of the bed and grabs his pants, pulling them on without buttoning them, and gets his gun from the nightstand. You don't even remember him putting it there.

"Get dressed, quickly and quietly." You nod and slide out of the bed, gathering your clothing and slipping it on silently. He positions you so that you can't be seen from the door and then opens it, gun in hand.

"Ah, Agent Presley. You're awake."

******

Taglist:

@ccab @elvisfatass @elvisalltheway101 @aliypop @18lkpeters @dkayfixates @tacozebra051 @your-nanas-house @deniseinmn @joshuntildawn13 @lookingforrainbows @60svintage @littlehoneyposts @epthedream69 @louisejoy86 @rjmartin11 @from-memphis-with-love @deltafalax @atleastpleasetelephone @cinnamoroll-things

[foolondahill17]

Annual Favorite Supernatural Fic Rec List of 2023:

I bookmarked 66 fics in 2023 (and read…a lot more than that), but only 9 were written/updated in this year of our lord. SMH we gotta pump out more content, friends. Seriously though, I’ve got several more 2023 fic reads in my Marked for Later, but some are still WIPs or I just haven’t gotten around to picking them up yet. I’m sure some (like the much-hyped Lighthouse Keeper AU where there is darkness by the talented quiettewandering [@wanderingcas on tumblr]) will end up on my Bookmarked favs…but, alas, they’ll just have to wait for the 2024 recap.

The list below is in no particular order, barring the first, which has joined the ranks of one-of-my-favorite-fics-ever:

A Cliff That Knew Too Many Tides by luulapants (@luulapants)

E, early series Dean/others, 94,508 words

Partial Summary:

A canon rewrite AU diverging from the events of Some Cruel Tide, in which a shifter disguised as his father used Dean's blind obedience to molest him. By the start of S1, Dean's relationship with his father is more strained, his devotion more intense, and his life consumed by the need to hide the parts of himself he is most ashamed of.

My words:

If you’ve been looking for a gay!Dean manifesto, you’ve found it. Obviously, the subject matter is dark: warnings for past childhood sexual abuse, internal and external homophobia, past suicide attempt, and traumatic outing. It is also beautiful and heart-wrenching and scratches the swollen, itchy, weeping rash on my heart in a way that only the balm of good Dean angst can.  

Favorite part:

“I wasn’t acting out,” he blurted.

“What?”

“When I – I wasn’t trying to act out or anything.” Deacon’s presence hovered behind him like an aura, and Dean reminded himself, Don’t rock the boat. Don’t rock the boat.

Dad sighed. The line crackled, and Dean pictured him standing in a phone booth somewhere, probably huddled up against the cold. “Then what the hell would you call it?”

Dean tried out a few words in his head, imagining how they’d sound to Deacon. He ended up with, “I misunderstood. I thought I was supposed to.”

Asterism of an F-Series Ford Pick Up by disabled_dean (@disabled-dean)

M, Destiel, 17,408 words

Partial Summary:

When you've been to hell, desire is isolating and ugly.

Or: Cas drives his truck for a case and Dean is exceptionally horny about it

My words:

The way Dean’s PTSD is described in this fic, like a slow, oozing poison that awakens the longer he and Cas travel together, is tantalizing and masterful. Ostensibly, this fic is about Dean and Cas road-tripping to a case. It’s actually about how you, a monster-hunter, can come to terms (or not) with your body and soul when you think you’ve become the very thing you’re spent your whole life hunting.

 Favorite part:

"Like everything will be going fine and then all of a sudden I just. Can’t. I can't stand it. And the more fine everything is, the worse it gets and I feel-" he breaks off, eyes on his hands like they aren't his hands, thumb rubbing over and over the ring on his index finger, "It's like everyone else is living this normal fucking life and I'm still back in the pit."

Personal Space: The Final Frontier by botley

M, Destiel, Star Trek AU, WIP, 63,570 words

Partial summary

"Captain's Log, Stardate 10918.8. Captain Ellen Harvelle reporting, First Officer… Castiel… attending. After a month of bargaining with the Gehennian government, efforts to permit a search party within the Rack facilities still proved unsuccessful. Although Starfleet’s orders dictated we tuck tail and leave, I elected to disregard this decision and beam a rescue operations team down for the recovery of Lieutenant Commander Dean Winchester.”

My words:

This fic has been on my rec lists before. It’s still a WIP, but it very unexpectedly posted an update after a 3(?) year hiatus, so I’ll cling to hope until my fingernails leave a bloody, mauled mess.  This is basically a Star Trek AU where our favorite Supernatural gang are fucking around in Starfleet instead of the Midwest. Fantastic stuff – worth the read even if it does remain unfinished.

Favorite line:

"Dean made a face. Castiel decided the man was hideous."

Receding by minkmix

T, early season gen, 38,729 words

Summary:

After a visit to an old, abandoned theme park in the desert, Sam begins to notice strange lapses in Dean's memory. As his brother starts to disappear before his eyes, Sam must rush to find an answer before there isn't anything left to save... My words: A Lucky Charms fic if I’ve ever read one. Delicious, crunchy marshmallow goodness of some fantastic Dean!whump and panicked caretaker!Sam with the solid undercurrent of slightly sweetened amalgamized oat and corn cereal of a solid case fic. Yum.

 Favorite part:

“Sammy?” Dean cut him off.

“W-What is it?”

“What’s Dad’s name?”

Sam’s chest heaved as he fought himself from sounding as stunned as he felt.

“John.”

Swan Upon Leda by kelsstiel (@kelstiel)

E, Destiel real-world AU, 174,096 words

Summary:

Pediatric Surgery Fellow Dean Winchester meets baby Jack Kline and neuropsychologist Castiel Novak his first week on the job. Dean’s been accused a time or two of caring a little too much in the past and it’s hard not to care about the neurotic adoptive father and his medically needy preemie. After a series of run-ins between the pair, Dean and Cas develop a friendship that everyone else around them suspect more from immediately, though it takes them a little longer to get the memo. When Dean struggles with a particularly devastating patient loss, their mutual understanding of loss and love bring them closer in a way that neither of them could have expected.

My words: A solid, old-fashioned romantic AU. It’s unpretentious, fluffy, heart-warming, authentic and the kind of could-have-been-a-novel goodness that makes up the heart and breadth of fanfiction. Warning for infant illness and death (not Jack).

Favorite part:

"I know they say there’s a chance, but I’ve just got this feeling .” She shook her head and looked down for a moment. She looked up again and took a deep breath as if steadying herself. “I wish I could see you grow up.”

five minutes to six by saintedcastiel  (@saintedcastiel)

M, Destiel real-world AU, 23,383 words

Summary:

Castiel Novak has been the co-host of Good Morning, Lawrence! for a little over ten years when he stumbles across the story of a lifetime. But after a producer pulls the segment and tells him to forget it, Castiel begins to wonder who's really pulling the strings. Can he bring the truth to light while somehow managing to keep his co-host, and the man he loves, in the dark?

 My words: Another Goddamn quality AU. This one is a little quippier and fast paced than the Hospital AU above, but it’s full of fantastic characterization and even a last-minute breaking and entering romp. Fun that’s perfect for the whole family!

Favorite part:

“Been asking you out all week.” Dean tells him, and Castiel realizes all at once he’s right.

“Oh my god.” Castiel laughs. “You have.”

This Is Not My Beautiful Wife by luckshiptoshore (@luckshiptoshore)

T, Destiel, one-shot, 4,755 words

Summary:

“Dean,” says the man again. “This isn’t real. You need to come with me, now.”

Dean’s been zoning out again. But he can’t escape the feeling that something’s very, very wrong … and wherever he goes, a strange man in a trench coat follows.

My words: You gotta love the Djinn dream trope. This one has everything you want in a caught-in-a-fake-reality-while-your-lover-pleads-for-you-to-return-to-the-waking-world story, plus an extra dash of on-point characterization and some truly imaginative scenarios for Dean’s alternate realities.  

 Favorite part:

“We could look into adoption,” says Cas. “If you’d like. Of course we could also simply take a child, but I think that’s frowned on."

we really shouldn't be doing this by LoversAntiquities (@tragidean)

E, Destiel, 17,138 words

Summary:

After Castiel goes missing for a week, Dean finds him in an abandoned cemetery in the middle of nowhere Kansas, suffering from a mysterious welt. Only, as the hours go on, the deeper the curse grows—and Dean finds more than he bargained for, namely on every surface he and Castiel can find.

My words: This is more straight-up (not straight) porn than I usual rec, but this is a fantastic take on the from-sex-to-love fic where everyone was already in love to begin with. There’s a hefty sprinkle of idiots-to-lovers and sex-curse. Also angst, which is my bread and butter.

Favorite line:

Castiel stares up at him, his eyes gone soft, hooded. Dean thumbs over his eyelid, just to watch it flutter shut. “I’m not solely interested in you for your hands, or your mouth. They are wonderful attributes, but I don’t long for them so much as I long for you.” He leans into Dean’s palm and kisses the center. “I don’t know when I fell in love with you, but it would take the death of the universe to get me to stop.”

Postpartum Prometheus by babbyspanch, saltslimes (@dragqueenpentheus @nifedick)

E, Destiel, technically mpreg, WIP, 18,959 words

Summary

Welcome to the Supernatural renaissance. Welcome to Castiel and the terrible naissance.

My words: warning for the fact that this is technically an mpreg fic even though Castiel is an angel and not really a man. Warning, also, because this is another WIP that hasn’t been updated since the beginning of the year, so I don’t know if it’ll be finished. Basically, Dean and Cas bump uglies to unexpected results. Cas kinda freaks without telling Dean he’s his baby daddy. He also yanks out his intestines so said baby can be nice and comfortable in there. Funny and angsty.

Favorite part:

“Are those—?”

“Yeah.” He waves his hand at the door again, starting to feel like one of those used car lot inflatable men, limbs akimbo. “A total murderer looking guy just bolted that way. And not like— the regular murderer-looking people who come in.”

“And he left his organs.” Dennis thinks a moment, and then shrugs, as if this isn’t the weirdest thing he’s ever seen. He’s been working here longer than anyone Henry knows, maybe it isn’t. He opens his mouth and Henry can’t help hoping some miracle plan of action is going to fall out of it. “Can I ask you a personal question?”

“Um. What?”

“I don’t want to offend you.” He pauses, brows furrowed. He rolls Henry’s cup over in his hand. “What is a ‘FABINISTA’?”

Add your favorite written-in-2023 fics in the tags or a reblog!

[sauntervaguelydown]

what's interesting about Zenigata throughout the Lupin iii franchise is that he doesn't really have a core interiority. Everything about Zenigata is exterior.

Part 4 does this insane thing with him where he's locked into his role as judge/jury/executioner to such an extent that it seems pathological--he has to keep Lupin in prison even though it is making him, personally, miserable with grief. He has to make sure Lupin dies rather than let him escape. It will literally destroy the foundation of who he is as a person if he succeeds in the goal he's assigned himself, but he can't possibly do anything else. The law is the law and his job is his job, and he can't let himself be anything else even for a moment. It's fucking intense! It's Greek tragedy!

Compare that to part 5, which was made like? two years? later. And in this one, Zenigata explicitly states that he wants to put Lupin in jail because it's the only way to make Lupin understand his actions have consequences. To force him to turn over a new leaf, make him go straight, and then meet him on the other side. Literally wants to buy him a drink when he gets out of prison.

These could not be more different--I mean it's Antigone vs A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum. Are either of them more true to the spirit of the character than the other? Well. It's really hard to say, because we just don't know these things about Zenigata in Part One!

What's his relationship to justice? How does he feel about The Law? Is he a corrupt cop, is he noble? Is his chasing Lupin driven by career aspirations or personal passion?

EDIT: I have now read the manga translations, and uhhh well. Apparently they met in college and Zenigata hated his vibe SO bad he spent the rest of his life trying to kill the guy. Not sure that helps us much here.

As it stands, here's a rough list of the stuff I've watched and what its take on Zenigata is

Part One: in the first episode, Zenigata gives a brief explanation of their dynamic (for the sake of the audience) which is already WELL established in-universe. Here he says something like, "Lupin, if you weren't the Grandson of Arsene Lupin, and I wasn't the descendant of the famous Zenigata..." implying that something about this dynamic would change if it wasn't for their Cosmically Assigned Destinies as products of their Two Houses Alike in Dignity etc. What would be different? Would they be friends? I don't know! But Zenigata definitely seems to be beholden to the legacy of his own family here.

there's also an ep where Zenigata has Lupin in jail successfully. Zenigata stays on site guarding the jail the whole 6 months, and eventually one of the other guards says if I didn't know any better I'd think you were looking forward to seeing him escape.

later episodes led by Miyazaki lean more heavily on the context of his career; his relationship to his boss, a conference he wants to attend in his field, the fear of one's job being outmoded by technology etc.

The Mystery of Mamo: Zenigata has so much personal passion! When they tell him to drop the case, he literally quits the force to chase Lupin as a private citizen! This is the one where he swears he'll follow Lupin to the gates of Hell because they are fated rivals. This is also the one where he literally tries to stake Lupin in case he's turned into a vampire. so. I don't know man. He's fucking unhinged in this movie, it's pretty great.

Mamo is known to be closer in tone to the manga than anything else, but Zenigata is not this rabid in the manga. Manga Zenigata is more contemptuous and put-upon.

The Castle of Cagliostro: this is a neutral good Zenigata at his most admirable. When he can't get justice through the law, he teams up with criminals in order to circumvent corrupt government officials. He's also headstrong and fully willing to risk his own career, but not ready to throw it away at the first inconvenience. He is "very fond" of Lupin. He enjoys the chase, but he can put it aside in order to fry bigger fish. You get the impression that he cares about correcting injustice more than the letter of the law.

Part Two: Lupin fakes his death twice that I can remember and BOTH times Zenigata cries about it. On the first occasion, Zenigata shakes the corpse, begs it to wake up, then wonders tearfully what he's going to do with himself now that Lupin is dead. On the second occasion, Zenigata first tries to KILL himself rather than allow Lupin to rescue him (out of a sense of pride) and then cries and calls Lupin a "great man" after Lupin fakes a fatal crash. The resentment IMMEDIATELY gives way to mourning. He's very cavalier with his own life, but precious about Lupin's.

By the way, I love how much this man cries. I ALSO love crying in public and being homoerotically obsessed with my enemies. He's so relatable

the other thing is that this Zenigata is VERY binary about roles; he refuses to jailbreak from extralegal imprisonment because "cops don't escape jail". Doesn't matter that the jail is run by terrorists who are going to kill him, that's Not What Cops Do.

The Fuma Conspiracy: Lupin has faked his death yet again, and Zenigata has--in direct response to this--quit the force and BECOME A MONK, and explicitly says he is busy praying for Lupin's soul so that Lupin can be reincarnated as a law abiding citizen in his next life. What the fuck does this say about Zenigata? Buddy we don't have time to unpack that whole suitcase. In brief: Zenigata is prescriptive about law and legality as equaling goodness/dharma/morality etc. But he also changed his entire life so that he could remain dedicated to THE SOUL OF HIS DEAD NEMESIS. So this is clearly very personal, and has nothing to do with his career.

Part Three: limited familiarity with this one but I HAVE seen the episode where Zenigata gets fired due to his boss's embezzlement scheme and subsequently uncovers the scheme--there's a bit where Lupin pretends to mug him in an alley so they can have a private conversation, and Zenigata IS pretty quick to jump on the trail of this embezzlement scheme instead of chasing Lupin, once he's been tipped off. Perhaps more career driven in this one.

Lupin First Contact: some combination of career-based ambition and, like, Unrequited Rivalry At First Sight. He came here to chase Fujiko and got so distracted by this other idiot that he nearly forgot about her. To be fair, this story is narrated by Lupin so it may not even be an accurate representation of Zenigata within its own canon.

Ten Thousand Movies other from 1990-2005: girl most of these are so bad they are so SO bad. Most of the time Zenigata is not a major player. I can't remember anything he did in these except--oh, in Burning Memories, he uses the jute he keeps in a shinto shrine in his apartment after it survives a major fire. Loved that.

Also, he dresses in drag at the beginning of Farewell Nostradamus. This has nothing to do with anything I just loved it.

The Woman Called Fujiko Mine: corrupt cop. dirtbag. full stop.

okay, no, really. Here he is explicitly concerned with his career; he laments that he had to take grunt work to get by, talks about being busted down the chain after reporting his dirty boss, is extremely defensive of anyone muscling in on his Case even someone he has every reason to trust... this is a man who only cares about his career

he does fuck Fujiko and it IS a corrupt move. He seems to imply he's done this before with other thieves. He KNOWS she faked an orgasm and he doesn't care. He's mean as hell.

He cares about his pride. He seems to think Having Personal Pride is incompatible with participating in corruption. Does not explain why he exploited Fujiko Mine for sex. Maybe corruption doesn't count if you don't respect the person you're violating the rights of.

So, overall, have I got a thesis?

Basically, everyone who writes Zenigata has a different take on what his core motivation is. All the stuff that is core to Zenigata is in his affect, in his actions. He's enthusiastic, emotional, hotheaded, stubborn, prone to cackling, smart but not quite smart enough. What he thinks and what he feels, what he does in his private life, remains surprisingly mysterious.

Several of these takes are mutually exclusive. Mamo and Cagliostro simply do not overlap, just like Part 4 and Part 5 are at odds with each other. You can't put Mamo and Cagliostro and Part 1 in a blender without creating some new third thing inaccurate to all three.

For my money, here's what I think the core points would be, if I was starting out to write a fresh series or something:

the Shinto angle; his duty to the family legacy, especially with a famous ancestor like the OG Zenigata, looms large over the current inspector. He has a lot to live up to.

although they met through his job, he's very specifically attached to Lupin in a way that has nothing to do with his job; in fact, his desire to be close to Lupin is at odds with his career

he started out being ambitious and career oriented--this is why he started chasing Lupin, hoping to make a name for himself.

his career has fully stalled out and he's in conflict with himself about the joy his gets from chasing Lupin vs the expectations he set for himself ten years ago

ACAB; if he's actually ethical and cares about civil rights, he's got to be Insanely Unpopular with other cops. The only reason he might be able to get away with this and still have a job is that he's A) an accidental celebrity now with a weird amount of public clout B) he's got insane tunnel vision and doesn't notice major violations of human rights unless they are Directly In his Line of Vision. Nonetheless, this is unsustainable in the long term.

*I'm also a proponent of "Zenigata used to be more ruthless and corrupt, but he's actually picked up ethics somehow from being around criminals all the time" simply because. it is funny.

In conclusion: probably the reason we don't have solid answers to these questions is because Zenigata is like a dog chasing cars. He doesn't know what he'd do with one if he caught it. Nonetheless, he's gotta chase that goddamn fiat.

[bvckleyydiaz]

daddy, daddy - aaron hotchner

title: daddy, daddy

summary: a conversation with derek leads to an unexpected development in your relationship with your boss.

pairing: aaron hotchner x plus size!f!reader

word count: 3755

warning(s): smut, 18+ mdni, dom!hotch, sub!reader, oral (f receiving), pet names (good girl, sweet girl, baby, slut), mild degradation, praise kink, daddy kink, unprotected sex, derek being a meanie to reader (unintentional), little bit of size kink, let me know if i missed anything!

a/n: it is finally finished!! i can’t wait for you guys to read it.

You should not be doing this. This goes so far beyond what’s appropriate for an employee and their supervisor, especially when both of you work for the federal government—

There is a knock on the door to his hotel room before you can fully comprehend what you’re doing.

Fuck. No going back now.

You get to seven in your head when Aaron opens the door, hair still damp from his shower and dressed in a T-shirt and pajama pants. “Y/N?” His eyebrows furrow at your presence. “Is everything alright?”

Pursing your lips, you ask him. “Can I come in?”

He nods and steps aside to let you in. You know that you should not be here right now, but you need to know if Derek is right. You need to know if you really have no chance with Aaron because of your size.

“You look like there’s something on your mind.” Aaron’s voice pulls you back to reality.

You turn to look at him, and all the confidence you had coming into his hotel room at two in the morning evaporates in an instant. “I honestly don’t know why I came here,” you admit. “I mean, I do. But… I’m not drunk enough to have this conversation with you.”

He lets out the tiniest of laughs and tilts his head to the side. “So, you decide to randomly knock on your boss’s hotel room at two in the morning without any reason?”

You know that he is only teasing you, but the situation leading up to you coming to his hotel room and him asking that question just makes you feel silly. Your lack of response changes something in his expression, and suddenly, Hotch is standing in front of you instead of Aaron. "Is there something I should know?”

You shake your head. “No. I just… I know that he was just talking out of his ass and that I shouldn’t be taking what he said personally, but it’s hard not to. What he said hurt me. And there is a part of me that believes him.”

“Hey,” he says, and you feel his fingers graze your arm. Looking up at him, you see him smiling something gentle and reassuring. It’s exactly what you need. “If someone says something to you and it hurts you, it’s perfectly natural for you to be upset. I would want you to be upset.” He squeezes your arm. “Tell me what happened to make you so upset but only if you’re comfortable.”

You let out a long, defeated sigh through your nose. “Derek and I were talking the other day, just joking around. We had gotten onto the topic of who we think would be our ideal type, and I told him who I thought mine would be. Or, who I wanted it to be. He laughed and said, ‘I don’t think I could ever see you with him because he doesn’t date girls like you.’” You try to hold back the tears because you made a promise to yourself that you would never let any of your team see you cry, especially Hotch. “I normally am not self-conscious about my body. Not anymore, anyway. I know that I am bigger than a lot of my family, my friends and the people that I work with, but that conversation with Derek made me feel like I’m unworthy of being with someone that I think could be it for me because of something as trivial as my weight.”

At first, Aaron says nothing, but you can see an undercurrent of anger simmering in his eyes. Anger for you. “I’m sorry that happened to you, Y/N. You don’t deserve that.” He sighs. “I’m going to talk to Derek once we get back from this case, and I will tell him that he was out of line for what he said to you.”

You shake your head in protest. “Hotch—”

“No, Y/N.” His tone leaves no room for argument. “Derek is in the wrong here, and he needs to be made aware of it. He said something insensitive, and it made you upset. You are right to feel this way, and your feelings should not be undermined or swept away to protect his. He is a grown man, and he can handle the consequences of his actions.”

There is no fighting him on this, and you know it. So, you nod.

“Just out of curiosity,” he starts after a moment of silence has lapsed between the two of you. “What did you say when Derek asked you who your ideal type is?”

“I told him it was you,” you admit.

He blinks as if he’s surprised by your answer. “Me?” He was surprised. You nod like it’s obvious—which, to you, it is. “I was your ideal type?”

“You are my ideal type,” you correct.

He still looks confused. “Why?”

It’s your turn to be confused. “Do you not know how sexy you are, Aaron?”

Your question seems to surprise him more than your admittance to him being your ideal type. “I’m sorry?”

“You’re fucking hot!” You cry. “There have been several instances where I have heard people around our office—men and women—talk about how good you would be in bed.” You pause. “Most of those people think you have a kinky side, by the way. ‘Gentleman in the streets, freak in the sheets,’ you know?”

His look of confusion slowly morphs into a Cheshire grin. “What about you?”

“What do you mean?” You ask.

“Do you think I have a kinky side?”

Oh.

Oh.

You know an opening when you see one, so you decide to take it.

You shrug your shoulders innocently. “I’m not sure. I think I’d have to see for myself.”

Keeping his gaze on you, he takes a step toward you. “If you ever want this to stop,” he whispers to you when he gets mere inches away from you, “just say the word, and I will stop. We will forget this ever happened, and we will go back to the way we are right now. Nothing will change between us.”

You reach out and place your hands on his chest, caressing the skin there with your thumb. “Don’t stop,” you tell him as you look up at him with your eyelashes.

A groan rumbles in his throat. Before you can comprehend what’s happening, your back is against the closest wall of Aaron’s hotel room, and his mouth is devouring yours. You often thought about what your first kiss with Aaron might be like; this is not what you thought it would be. This kiss is all tongue and teeth, getting the upper hand. There is nothing gentle about this kiss, but the desire that exudes off him sparks your skin like a match. Your fingers tangle themselves in his dark hair, and Aaron uses his to grab the plush of your waist and pulls you impossibly closer.

He licks at the seam of your lips, and with a whimper, you let him in. The taste of him overtakes you almost immediately; you feel yourself submitting to him with each lick into your mouth.

Aaron pulls away from your mouth just enough to whisper, “Oh, someone’s eager. Are you going to be a good girl for me?”

You nod. “Yes, Aaron, please.” You feel heat start to simmer in the pit of your stomach.

He shakes his head, that Cheshire grin coming back full force. “A good girl doesn’t call me by the wrong name. Be a good girl, and say my name, Y/N.”

Huh. He does have a kinky side. You wet your lips and practically vibrate with anticipation. “Daddy, please.”

His pupils blow wide with lust at the name, so you know you’ve done something right. “Daddy, please what? Good girls ask Daddy for the things they want.”

Another whimper escapes when you feel the tips of Aaron’s fingers glide across your lower back. “Daddy, please touch me.”

He puckers his lips in a feigned sense of confusion. “I am touching you, sweet girl.”

You whine and grip the strands of hair between your fingers. “Please touch my pussy, Daddy.”

The sound of his condescending chuckle makes your pussy throb with need. “Aw, my poor little baby. Is your pussy all wet and aching? Do you need Daddy to help you fix that?”

You nod. “Yes, Daddy.”

He then tucks his arms under your thighs and lifts you like you weigh nothing, and you let out a surprised squeak. None of your previous partners had ever been able to lift you so easily, if at all, and the fact that Aaron does it with such ease makes the coil forming in the pit of your stomach wind a little tighter. Aaron is big, there is no denying that. He easily hits the six-foot mark, and there have been cases where you see him manhandle suspects as if he was tossing around a sack of potatoes. You’ve witnessed Aaron’s strength before; you never thought he would use it on you.

He drops you down onto the bed and covers your body with his own. You feel his weight press into you, but it’s not suffocating. It feels like a blanket. He mouths at your throat, kissing, biting, and licking every inch of skin he can reach. You arch back and grind your sopping cunt into his clothed dick. It feels hot underneath the fabric of Aaron’s jeans. His big hands grip your hips and pin them to the mattress.

“If you keep doing that,” Aaron growls into your ear, “this will be over before it even starts, little girl.”

You blink and let your mind process what just came out of Aaron’s mouth. “Y-Yes, Daddy.”

“Good.” He pushes himself into a kneeling position above you and tucks his fingers under the hem of your T-shirt. “Now, let Daddy see those pretty tits, hm?” He slips your shirt up and over your head, letting out a lustful groan at the sight of your bare breasts. “Fuck, baby. You’re so pretty for me.” He takes a breast into each hand, and you moan at the feeling of his fingers brushing your nipples. “You like Daddy touching your nipples like this, huh? Does it feel good?”

You bite at your bottom and nods. “Yes, Daddy, I love it. It feels so good…”

He smiles into the tops of your breasts as he places kisses there. “Look at my girl being so good to me. Answering my questions when I ask them, calling me by my name, and being so responsive when I touch her…” He takes your nipples in between his forefingers and thumbs, twisting them gently. “You like being Daddy’s good girl, don’t you, Y/N?”

You keen at his praise and him tweaking your sensitive nipples. “I like being Daddy’s good girl.”

He twists your nipples just a bit harder this time. “Do you like it, or do you love it?”

You throw your head back against the pillow and moan at the mix of pain and pleasure. “I love it, Daddy! I love being your good girl.”

He chuckies fondly at the sight of you. “Atta girl. Mm, such a good little slut I have here. I think she deserves a reward. Do you think you deserve a reward, baby?”

You nod. “Please, Daddy. I’ve been a good girl for you. I need it, Daddy. Please, please,” you beg.

“Okay, baby. Daddy will make you feel real good.” He slides his hands down your stomach and stops at the waist of your sleep shorts. “You’re still okay with this, right? You still want this?”

You nod. “Don’t stop, Aaron. Please.”

He kisses you softly. “Okay, baby. Just checking in.” The fondness in his smile makes your heart beat a little harder.

Hooking his fingers into the waistband of your shorts and your panties, he pulls them down to your knees, to your ankles, then to the floor. He plants kisses up your calves and thighs as he makes his way back up your body. “Shit,” he groans when he settles himself between your thighs. “You have such a pretty pussy, baby. Look at it, all wet and needy for Daddy. This is all for me, my good girl?”

The heat that was simmering in your belly earlier is now blistering. “Yes, Daddy, fuck! It’s all for you. My pussy is all for you,” you whimper, feeling so submissive and so fucking good.

“Such a generous little girl I have, telling me that this beautiful fucking pussy is all for me to use just as I want,” Aaron praises. He pushes your thighs up so that your knees rest against your chest, leaving you wide open for him. You have never felt so naked yet so protected. “Poor baby. Your little cunt is quivering with need. I think it’s time to put her out of her misery.” With that, he flattens his tongue and licks from your hole to your clit.

That is almost enough to make you cum. You throw your head back with a keening whine and grip onto Aaron’s hair again, to give you something to ground you in reality. “Fuck… Daddy…”

Aaron peeks up at you over your stomach, and even with his face buried in your cunt, the bastard still has the audacity to smug. He doesn’t say anything in response to your moans, but he does wrap his lips around your clit and give it a sharp suck.

“Fuck, yes! Just like that, Daddy… Feels so good…” You pant, trying to catch your breath, but Aaron has something different planned for you. He gives your clit one more lick before he pulls away from you entirely and pushes himself into a kneeling position. You whine at the loss of his mouth on you, but it does not last long.

“Daddy is a little overdressed, don’t you think, baby?” Aaron asks as he slides off the bed.

“Extremely overdressed,” you tease him and throw him a wink. Letting out a soft chuckle, he sheds his T-shirt and reveals his toned chest and stomach. “Hello, Agent Hotchner.” You reach out your hand to brush against the muscular wall of skin when he makes his way back onto the bed. His knees encase both of yours, and he brings his hand up to your mouth. The playfulness of a few seconds ago is gone, and Aaron has slipped back into Daddy.

“Open,” he says, and you do as he asks. Your mouth falls open, tongue unfurling, and he places two of his fingers onto the wet appendage. “Suck.”

You close your mouth around his fingers and slowly start to bob your head. Aaron watches with rapt attention as you suck on his fingers. You slide the tip of your tongue along the underside of his fingers, and you swirl it around them, treating his fingers as if they were his cock.

“Fuck, sweet girl,” he groans as his eyes practically roll back into his head. “If you take my fingers this well, I can’t imagine how well you’ll take my cock.”

You moan around his fingers as you coat them with your spit.

“That’s it. That’s my good girl,” Aaron praises and fucks his fingers back into your mouth, gagging a little when he reaches the back of your throat. “Such a good little slut for your Daddy, aren’t you?”

You try to respond with a “yes, Daddy,” but it comes out all garbled because of his fingers.

Aaron laughs at your attempt to communicate with your mouth full, an undercurrent of condescension in his voice. “Look at that. My good girl is still trying to follow Daddy’s rules even when her mouth is stuffed to the brim with my fingers. You are just a mindless little slut for me.”

You nod against his fingers, and Aaron finally pulls them out, a trail of spit connecting them into your mouth. You let a cough once the intrusions are gone form your mouth and try to gulp down as much air as you can. “Aaron, if you do not fuck me into oblivion within the next five minutes, I swear to God—” A gasp cuts you off as Aaron pushes the two fingers that he fucked your mouth with into your leaking cunt, stopping only when he reaches the knuckle. “Oh, fuck!”

“Where’s that attitude now, huh?” Aaron asks, slowly pumping his fingers in and out of you. “You wanted to be a fucking brat, but now that you have something filling up that needy pussy? Not a word out of you. Couldn’t even wait a couple of seconds for me to get my fingers to your pussy before you started acting up.” He tsks and shakes his head. “Thought I taught my good girl better than that.”

“I’m sorry, Daddy…” The burn from the stretch of Aaron’s fingers is a welcomed mixture of pain and pleasure. “Fuck, Daddy, I’m sorry! I just—”

“You just what?” He growls and pumps his fingers faster inside of you. “You just wanted to be a fucking brat because you didn’t have anything to fill your slutty little hole? Because you were feeling empty without Daddy’s fingers?”

You shake your head and squirm on his fingers. “Just wan-wanted to feel you…”

He scissors you open with his fingers, making the burn from the stretch more prominent. “I know that you want Daddy’s cock, but you have to be prepped first. Otherwise, it’ll hurt, and Daddy doesn’t want to hurt you.” He slips a third finger inside of you.

You whine at the addition, but it doesn’t hurt. It just makes you want his cock more, to be full. Tears sting at the corners of your eyes, and you feel one fall down your cheek.

Aaron’s thumb wipes away the tear. “Are you okay?” He asks softly. “Do you want a break? Or want me to stop?”

You shake your head and release a long, steadying breath through your mouth. “No, Aaron, please don’t stop. Want you so bad. Please fuck me…”

He caresses your cheek with the hand that does not have fingers inside of you and kisses you slowly, softly. “You’re doing so well, baby. Are you ready?”

You nod. “Please, Aaron.”

He pulls his fingers out of you and hooks them into the waistband of his pajama pants and his boxers, pulling them down enough for his dick to spring free and slap against his stomach. His cock is long and girthy, the head of it flushed almost red with pent-up desire. You knew that Aaron would be big, but you didn’t expect this. He had to be a good eight inches, maybe even nine.

You blink once you have fully drunk in the size of him. “Holy shit.”

He laughs the tiniest bit. “This is why I wanted to prep you first, sweet girl.”

You push yourself up to kiss him. “Please, Daddy. I want you inside me.”

Biting at his lip and holding back a groan, he grabs his length and strokes it. He spreads your juices up and down his cock; he then brings your legs up to his hips and locks them around his waist. He positions the head at your entrance and looks down at you, his eyes asking you for permission.

You nod, and he pushes the tip into you.

“Oh, fuck,” you moan.

“God, baby, you’re so wet for me. I feel you sucking me in.” Aaron leans down and starts peppering your throat with open-mouthed kisses. He gives you a few moments to get used to him before you whine.

“Move, Daddy, please! Fuck me…”

He nods into the crook of your neck. “Okay, my good girl. Daddy will fuck you.”

He shifts his hips and gently pushes the rest of him inside of you until he reaches the hilt. Both of you gasp at the feeling of him being fully seated inside your cunt. You’ve never felt so full before, and it is hard to put into words how sated you feel with Aaron’s cock in you and his arms around you.

“Daddy,” you sigh. “Feel so full… Filled me up so good.”

“Fuck, my sweet girl, you feel so good around Daddy’s cock… So tight and wet for me… I won’t last long, baby.”

You moan at that. “Please, Daddy, give me your cum. Want to feel it inside me. Fill me up so I’m leaking!”

He responds with his own moan of pleasure, and he starts fucking his hips into yours. A soft “ah-ah-ah” leaves your lips each time his pelvis brushes against your clit.

“Jesus, fuck!” Aaron groans into your neck. “Can’t hold back much longer…”

“Then, don’t.” You arch your back to meet his thrusts. “Please, Daddy, fuck me until you cum.”

After you say that, Aaron’s thrusts become harder and faster, and they perfectly hit that spongy spot deep in your pussy. You cry out and reach down between your bodies to rub your clit. “Shit! Ah, Daddy, you’re fucking me so good! I wanna cum, Daddy! Please let me cum!”

“Rub your clit for Daddy, baby. Yeah, that’s it. Make yourself cum on his cock…” Aaron’s words come out in pants as he gets closer and closer to his high. “Fuck, baby, I’m close! I’m going to fill this pussy up with my cum. Is that what my good girl wants?”

You nod your head frantically. “Yes, Daddy, please fill my pussy up with your cum! I’m so close, fuck! Cum with me, Daddy!”

One more brush of his pelvis against your clit is what sends you careening over the edge, moaning Aaron’s name as you cum. Aaron quickly follows suit after a few more pumps of his cock, and he makes good on his promise as you feel the hot ropes of his cum fill your hole.

“Fuck,” you pant as you try to catch your breath. “Aaron, that was amazing.”

Gently pulling himself out of you, your lover pushes himself off you and flops down next to you, hugging you into his side. “You did so well, Y/N. Are you okay? Was I too rough?”

You shake your head. “No, honey, you were perfect.” You drop a kiss to his sweaty shoulder. “Can we lay in bed for a few minutes? I can’t feel my legs.”

He chuckles and places a kiss on the crown of your head. “Sounds good. You’ll need your strength for tomorrow.”

[eldritch-thrumming]

Hawkins, Indiana June 1987

“So what do you think?” Eddie lifts his gaze from his guitar to look at where Steve is lounging across Eddie’s unmade bed. Steve takes a hit from the joint they’re sharing, exhales, then leans forward to place the joint between Eddie’s lips before responding.

“I think it’s…” Steve chews his bottom lip, looking for the right words. “Inspired,” he settles on, a lazy grin spreading across his face as he leans back on one elbow.

“Aw, man,” Eddie laughs, taking his hand off the neck of his guitar to pull the joint out of his mouth after he takes his own hit, placing it in the ashtray on his bedside table. “You’re high already.” That makes Steve laugh, happy and weightless.

They’d just finished dinner with Max and Wayne, some stew recipe Wayne remembered his mom making years ago and had asked Steve to take a crack at after finding the yellowed looseleaf page in one of the junk drawers of the new trailer. Wayne hadn’t been able to grab a ton of stuff from their old place before it had fallen into the Upside Down in the earthquake but in a panic had shoved bits of odds and ends into the two bags the government officials had allowed him to pack before they’d moved him last spring. The meal had turned out pretty well, considering Steve had never made it before, and Steve was always inordinately happy after what he had dubbed, in the privacy of his own mind, their Family Dinners. Capital “F,” capital “D.” He’d walked Max back to her own place afterward, since it was already dark, and made sure she’d gotten in okay before coming back to see Wayne off to work and spend some time with Eddie.

“I’m—“ Steve cuts himself off, considering. “Okay, yes, I am.” Eddie laughs again. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t know good music when I hear it.” Steve throws Eddie’s flattened pillow at Eddie and it hits him squarely in his face before he catches it in his hands.

For two weeks, Steve had been catching Eddie scribbling in notebooks or on the backs of takeout menus, tapping out different beats on his thighs or the steering wheel. Steve had known Eddie long enough by now to know that meant Eddie was working on a new song.

“No, but your growing collection of Tears for Fears and Genesis tapes suggests exactly that.” Eddie throws the pillow back at Steve, missing completely, before standing up to hang his guitar back on his mirror. He turns, smiling again, and leans against his dresser. He just looks at Steve.

“What?” Steve smiles, a little unsure. “Do I have something on my face or something?” He reaches up to brush his fingertips against his own cheek. Eddie's smile turns into something softer, the private smile he always saves for when they're alone that never ceases to make Steve's breath stutter in his chest. Eddie's eyes crinkle at the corners.

“No,” Eddie says, making his way over to the bed where Steve’s still lounging, loose-limbed and relaxed from the weed they’ve been sharing. It takes him all of two strides in the small space before he’s crawling on top of Steve. He’s still staring and it makes Steve smile to be this close to him.

“Hi,” Steve whispers, bringing his hand up to push Eddie’s curls behind his ear.

“Hi.” Eddie’s smiling again and so now they’re just staring at each other, faces close, smiling their goofy smiles and Steve feels his chest constrict. He feels like he’s careening off the rails. He feels out of control and he’s not sure if he likes it or not.

The last time Steve had felt like this, he’d had his heart crushed by Nancy Wheeler. This is different, all things considered. He and Eddie aren’t technically dating. They aren’t technically together. They don’t talk about what they're doing. They’re just… existing and it's so easy. The kissing, the fucking, the holding hands when no one else is around. They keep a drawer of each others clothes in each of their rooms, two toothbrushes on both their bathroom counters. Steve feels more like himself than he had in any other relationship he’s ever been in. He feels safe and wanted. Eddie never makes him feel stupid. This feels more real than anything Steve has ever had before.

Eddie had told Steve back at the beginning of May about his plans to leave Hawkins. His plans to go to New York, somewhere that wasn’t a small-time one-horse Midwestern town. A place where he’d never known anyone who died, where no one’s bones had snapped all at once right in front of him. They’d been in Steve’s backyard, kissing on one of the lounge chairs out by the pool. Eddie had pulled back, eyes shifting, and Steve had felt his own heart thudding in his chest. His hands had felt hollow seeing the slightly panicked look in Eddie’s gaze, before Eddie had spoken. Then, Eddie had said the words, said he’d be leaving in August, and Steve had breathed a sigh of relief and gone back to kissing him.

Steve had been waiting, for a full month, for Eddie to mention it again. Steve had thought about it, in the long hours behind the counter at Family Video. He’d thought about what it might be like living in New York with Eddie. How they’d hold hands in the grocery store and share a studio apartment and wake up to each other every day. How they’d kiss every single night before bed, minty from toothpaste. How Steve would make sandwiches for lunch and leave little notes for Eddie before he went to work. He’d asked Keith at Family Video about potential transfers, hypothetically speaking, and Keith had responded rather rudely before closing his office door, leaving Steve frowning alone on the sales floor.

But Eddie hadn’t brought it up again. The hopeful part of Steve wonders if maybe Eddie is afraid to ask, if he thinks maybe Steve would say no or laugh at him. The crueler, larger part of Steve wonders if this whole thing means more to him than it does to Eddie. The twin toothbrushes and the shirts folded in the drawers. The dinners in the trailer. Time spent with Max and Wayne, the four of them together. He wonders if he’s misreading everything, like he usually does. If he’s fallen too hard too fast, like he had with Nancy, in a way that was sure to leave him wounded for a long time. A way that would leave him cracked open and useless, ruined for anyone else, longing for things he’s not allowed to have.

Steve is brought back to the moment by Eddie’s lips brushing against his. He feels the soft press of Eddie’s tongue, the gentle way Eddie always kisses him at first. He moans at the feel of Eddie’s tongue against his own and he stops thinking about New York and what will happen to them in August. He stops thinking of all the ways Eddie could hurt him if he wanted to.

Steve doesn’t know how long he’ll be allowed to have this, how long he’ll be allowed to kiss Eddie’s skin and hold his hand. He doesn’t know what will happen tomorrow or next week or when this summer finally ends. All he knows is that he’s allowed to kiss Eddie now, he’s allowed to hold Eddie’s body against his own tonight, he’s allowed to lick at the ink on Eddie’s chest in this moment. He’s not going to waste any of this while he’s got it.

read more on AO3

[nctsplug02]

Nct jaehyun as a boxer!

[12:16AM]

GENRE: fluff and smut

WARNINGS: boxer!jaehyun, kissing, unprotected sex, hair pulling, spanking, doggy style, slight clit play and praising mixed with slight degradation.

you sigh, after a 12 hour shift— you couldn’t wait to be home in bed with a pint of ice cream in your lap and your favorite show on.

also, having mind blowing sex with your husband.

wink wink.

“babe— i’m home!” you shout, dropping your backpack on the floor by the door and slip off your shoes.

being a nurse isn’t easy as everyone said it was.

“i hope dinner is made because i haven’t eaten in ten hours.” you say aloud, walking to the kitchen. “the fuck?” you pause when seeing the sink full of dishes. “are you serious?” you groan.

“let’s just.. take a nice long hot shower to wash this terrible day off.” you say taking in a deep breath. “that should work.” you nod and go upstairs into the bedroom.

you undress yourself and wrap yourself in a towel. you gather your work clothes and go to the closet where the dirty hamper was— it was overfilled with clothes spilling out.

“are you f—serious.” you sigh and take a deep breath, again.

calm, cool, collected.

calm, cool, collected.

contemplating if you should quickly do the laundry or hop in the shower— you stick with the second choice.

and, after your twenty minute long shower— you head downstairs to see it the same.

where the fuck was your husband??

you roll your eyes and head into the first basement— empty. then you head into the second basement where you’d found your husband punching the punching bag with force and anger.

ah, your professional boxer husband..

after a few minutes of standing at the bottom of the stair case— jaehyun notices you in the mirrors and stops. he pulls out his earbuds and turns— sweaty and heaving with a big, tired smile.

“hey, baby. when’d you get home?” you ignore him and stomp your way back upstairs— slamming the door as you do.

jaehyun is quick to following you. his feet racing after yours.

“babe, what’s wrong?” you unfold the blanket and sit, covering your legs with the blanket. “are you upset?” you nod, chin tilted up. “very.” you reach for the controller but jaehyun is quick to snatch it up.

he sits on the cushion across from you. “tell me why you’re upset, baby.” jaehyuns head follows your eyes as they gaze around the living room. “cmon, baby. communication is key.”

you roll your eyes. “i’m upset that after a long day of work.. i come home to find the sink filled with dirty dishes and the laundry hamper filled with dirty clothes.”

jaehyuns lips form into a smile— a sexy one.

“that’s what you’re upset about?” you nod and cross your arms. his eyes shift to your pouty lips. “yes!” you huff and roll your eyes, again. “i’m very upset and frustrated with you because i constantly ask you to help around but you don’t and it’s just,” you groan and jaehyuns grin just grows wider. “so frustrating, jeong yoon-ho!” his eyebrows quirk up at the government name as he fiddles with his gloves.

“is that all, baby?” you force yourself to not melt at the nickname and tone. “yes! that’s all— i have nothing else to say to you.” you shut your eyes to keep his face out of your sight. “oh, you don’t?” he tilts his eye and you crack an eye open. “i don’t. d. o. n. t. don’t.” jaehyun laughs.

“i guess we need to fix that, hm?” jaehyun goes to get up from the cushion but you lift your foot and his chest meets your feet. “you wanna fix it?” your eyes sparkle and jaehyun licks his lip. “you know i’ll do anything, baby.”

“anything?” jaehyun nods.

“anything.” he confirms.

that’s where jaehyun fucked up because now, you had him in gloves and scrubbing dishes. also— the laundry running in the washer.

“done.” jaehyun pulls off the gloves and hangs it from above the sink. “good job, baby.” you say looking over his shoulder and then planting a kiss on his cheek.

jaehyun turns and leans against the sink. “still upset?” you hum, looking to the side with your arms crossed. “mm.. kind of.” jaehyun uncrosses his arms and takes a step towards you. “i—?” you take a step back.

his body hovering over yours.

one step closer.

one step back.

it repeats until you’re cornered. his arms gripping the counter on both sides of your hips. “uh.. i..” you’re flustered— just by his hungry gaze and his snarky grin.

“we can fix you being upset, right?” your jaw quirks as you figure out what to say. “i.. well—?” jaehyun cups your jaw and kisses you. his lips dancing with yours.

jaehyun pulls away. “happy?” you were enjoying this. “no..” you shake your head. jaehyun smiles and picks you up, his hands resting on your ass as he carries you to the living room and then drops you on the couch.

“let’s figure out how to handle an upset brat.” brat?

you were not a brat. just upset!

“b—brat?? i am not a brat—?!” jaehyun slips his hand under your shirt and swipes it off until you’re naked from above. “you’re acting like one with your— ‘hm’ and your ‘mm.’” he mimics you with a pout.

he pulls off your shorts and tosses them behind him. “panties off or on?” jaehyun hums and you start to get impatient. “so off.” jaehyun confirms and yanks off your sunflower panties.

“let me take a look at this pretty pussy. tonight— i’m the nurse.” jaehyuns line makes you cringe. “ah, i see the problem.” you lift your head off the couch and look down. “it’s all wet and needs to be taken care of.” he frowns and slips into two fingers.

“ooohh, fuck!” you drag and let your head hit the couch cushion. “we can take care of this easily— cant we, mrs jeong?” you nod with a needy whimper.

jaehyun smirks. he was going to enjoy this.

“i have the perfect cure for this wet and needy pussy.” jaehyun stands up and pushes down his shorts. “ready?” you nod, biting back your desperate moans. “good, because it’s ready for you.”

he changes your position and props a pillow below your hips. “stay still and let doctor jeong take care of you, m’kay?” you moan— not caring if it showed your desperation, your husband was hot as hell.

“oh, my gosh.” you gasp with your hands gripping around for something to hold— to distract you from the pleasure. “i—im still mad at you— fuck!” you shudder when his fingers pinch your clit. “hm? did you say something, mrs jeong?” you shake your head and he lets your clit free.

“fuck,” jaehyun says, right under his breath as he slowly pushes his cock in more. “if only you knew how good your pussy felt.” he says with a hazy gaze and tired smirk. “it’s as if it was made for me.. like god knew your pussy was meant for my dick.” you whimper.

his tone, his dick, his gaze— everything about this man causing you to tremble and shrink.

“god, you’re fucking huge.” you sigh, letting your eyes rest. you prayed that you didn’t fall asleep— after all, you did spend your last twelve hours in the hospital. “mm.. but you can take me, can’t you?” you nod, of course you could.

jaehyun groans as he slams his hips into yours, slowly and slowly until his pace picks up faster.

your cries and jaehyuns grunts fill up the spacious area with a mix of skin slapping skin.

“that’s it, baby.” jaehyun grunts, his hands tightly hold your breasts as you cry in pleasure. “look at you— taking every inch of me.” every ten inch. “such a good girl.” jaehyun softly chuckles.

“b—babe, i need to c—cum.” you let out a shaky breath after. “mhm, go ahead, baby.” jaehyun rubs your clit with his thumb and you whine. “d—don’t do that!” you scold, attempting to push his hand away but, it’s no use.

jaehyun let’s out a deep and throaty laugh before it cuts off with a snarl. “i can feel how tight your pussy gets when you cum.” he breaths heavily as you clench around him. “and, if feels so fucking good.” he softly chuckles and continues fucking you through your first orgasm.

“h—hurry— i’m sensitive.” your eyes plead but jaehyun doesn’t listen. “sensitive the better— i love how you shake when you’re so sensitive.” you yelp when he lands a soft smack on your clit. “you dick!”

jaehyun ignores you, once again.

it doesn’t take him long to follow you— his load filling you up before he pulls out and pushes it back in with his fingers.

whispering to you while his lips hover over yours, that you’re the his favorite patient and that you did so good taking him like a good girl.

jaehyun comes back with a wash cloth and wipes you clean before hanging it over the arm rest of the couch. “all better, mrs jeong?” jaehyuns lip grow when seeing your lips form into a satisfied smile.

he dresses you back up and cuddles with you under the blanket. “hey, what’d you mean earlier when you said “you’re my favorite patient— have you done this with your ex’s?” jaehyun shoves a spoonful of ice cream in your mouth and you whine from the coldness.

“eat your ice cream, baby.” he shoved a spoonful in his mouth next.

was he going to answer your question or not? if he wasn’t, you were really going to be pissed.

“and to answer your question— no. i may have dated a bunch of girls back in my school days but i’ve never been like this with them.“

jaehyun presses a kiss on your temple and you roll your eyes. “kisses won’t make me forget my madness.” you mutter and jaehyun tilts his head off of yours.

“i know what will, mrs jeong.” you groan as he places the pint of ice cream down on the coffee table and grabs your hips.

“oh, fuck.” jaehyun giggles.

[thegreymoon]

The Story of Minglan

Honestly, I don't think any of this was cruel to Wang Ruofu.

First, she backed her sister when she stuffed a concubine into Minglan's house in a clear attempt to shit all over her marriage. Then she poisoned Granny Sheng when she rightfully punished her for it. She deserved both her punishments. In fact, they didn't go far enough, IMO.

***

I cannot anymore with this fucking woman 🙄

Who gives a fuck who gave birth to him? That is his GRANDMOTHER. Whom you tried to POISON. Also, he is a government official, and a moral and sensible man. Him covering up for your crimes would have been a failure on all fronts.

***

No.

Your best hope is that Granny will not live longer than ten more years since she is already quite old. And if she does, that she will have moved over to Minglan's house by then, so that she doesn't have to look at your stupid face every day.

***

And after all this, she still continues to be driven by grudges and resentment.

Of course he will have no love for you. Of course he will try to get some recourse for his dead mother. It's no wonder that none of the illegitimate kids love you because how have you treated them? Certainly not well. You may not have sold them into slavery the way your sister did with the kids in her home, but if it had been up to you, all three of them would have died of neglect and you would not have cared. Changfeng and Molan luckily had their real mother with them until they were grown, and Minglan had Granny. You deserve nothing from any of them.

***

I AM ANNOYED BY YOU!

DOES THAT COUNT? YOU ARE STARTING TO GET ON MY VERY LAST NERVE.

My guy, you cannot force trust and intimacy and yelling at her about it is not helping your case!

I find him so pointless as a male lead. He has not done a single plot-relevant thing since he married Minglan. He just whines and whines about how he's not getting enough attention from her while she goes out and about, making new friends and solving Imperial marriage problems. In this last arc, he just swooped in at the very end to take credit where none is due because of course, the writers couldn't have had Minglan resolve the situation, no, Mr. Feng Shaofeng had to have a place in the spotlight too. After everything she did, right at the end, they made her so bumbling and helpless, so that he could swoop in to rescue her. I'm beyond pissed.

***

LMAO, imagine bringing up Wang Ruofu as a role model for anything.

Shut up, shut up, shut up. This drama was miles and miles better without you looking for trouble where there is none.

***

I am on her side here.

I'm super aroace, though, and I can't stand whiny, needy men encroaching on my space and time, demanding more than I am willing (or able) to give. Seriously, fuck off.

***

LMFAO

Minglan did him the biggest favour.

***

Wait a minute.

Doesn't that make Old Master Kang her grandfather??

Gross.

***

What you don't know and don't want to know not only about your daughter but about your entire family, could fill not just a book, but an entire library.

And she is like this because you are worthless and spineless.

***

LMAO, she read him to filth 🤣🤣

I love her so much! Definitely one of my favourite heroines, if not THE favourite right now!

***

Pathetic.

***

Wait. Her??

Didn't Sheng Hong get rid of all of them?

Also, what happened to her leg? Did she also get caned or tortured or something?

Terrible fate, she had such a comfy life with Concubine Lin for so many years and now she has to do hard labour with no hope for things improving.

***

LMAO, so what?

It's not you who has served three Emperors and it's not your memorial tablet being worshipped in the Imperial ancestral hall.

***

LMAO, that's right Minglan, put them on the spot!

They want you to do their dirty work for them.

***

LMAO, of course, let's change the topic quickly, now that the spotlight is on them.

***

Ah, so all of them are slaves, after all.

MInglan gave her the greatest gift. Her freedom to live as a free citizen. I hope she does the same for the rest of them, if she hasn't already.