#THAT SMUG LOOKING ASSHOLE LMAO

[shadesoflsk]

RETROSPECTION & OUTCOME

pairing: leon kennedy x afab reader.

summary: The journey of healing is not an easy one. Obstacles and doubts filled the path Leon decided to take. However, the agent had planted the seed of self improvement and with your help, a strong and resilent tree will grow.

warnings: strangers to friends to lovers, mentions of reader being a nurse, age gap (reader is 25+) angst, hurt/comfort, descriptions of gore, blood and violence, no alcohol consumption but Leon attempts to, Leon's inner thoughts, self doubts, lack of self confidence (from Leon's part) mild mentions of religion trauma, smut, handjob, Leon cries during it, kind of switch Leon, needy Leon (give him a hug please) p in v, creampie, fluffy at the end (yipeee)

word count: 14k

author's note: helloooo :] This is my first try at writing a long fic, I had so much fun writing it. It all started as a character study for Leon and then it ended up as... this lmao. For the first chapters, I had vendetta Leon in mind and at the last one we finally have DI Leon! Please... if you see any mistakes no you don't. Anyway love you guys hope you like this as much as I do.

— masterlist

I. ETERNAL DAMNATION.

His cold blue eyes are a pool of misery and misfortune. The dreadful gaze of an individual who once was and continues to be subject to the violent reality of what a government can do.

He remains stoic to whatever adversity he has to face, one look at him and you would believe this man has no feelings whatsoever. He kills, he gets paid, repeat. A never-ending loop in which many would believe Leon finds pleasure. Especially since he carries himself as the Government Golden Boy aka best weapon. To use and to dispose of, Leon S. Kennedy.

Shoulder pats and praise words stir up a pot filled with anger and hatred — emotions that Leon doesn't often feel with others, just with himself.— He tries not to dwell on them, but it gets so difficult and challenging whenever he hears that his own achievements are cause for celebration. Do these assholes know how many people, infected people, he had to kill in order to bring peace? No, they don’t. Unbeknownst to them, those people could have been saved.

At least in Leon’s mind. 

The suited men surround him. Privilege and smugness are qualities that Leon would often use to describe what those who hire his service are. Those congratulations and fake praises ring in Leon’s mind as he keeps thinking about the people he had to betray and kill for the ‘sake’ of his country, for his nation, and for the ego of his president. 

But he takes the compliments, like a good boy. The president believes he hit the jackpot with a rightful agent who is proud of his country. God Bless America and in God we trust, he says as his hand reaches for Leon’s. The blue-eyed agent hesitates each time, out of fear of tainting his oh-so-dear boss’ white shirt. Because nobody cared enough to spare him new clothes and a wet towel to clean himself. A trophy to show the world what a powerful human weapon they had. Rough, tall, and with calloused hands, hands of a killer. 

Leon S. Kennedy is proof of what the cruelty of a government can do. He is no longer a human, but the shell of a man. His name is printed in many documents which shows the gruesome acts he had to endure, in the name of the country. “Agent Leon S. Kennedy had successfully retrieved a sample of the virus.” “Condor One saved Baby Eagle.” He has received a plethora of names yet none of them really encapsulated who he was.

They have shown that they do not care about their citizens, like at all. Raccoon City was a prime example of that. He sounds like a broken record, the memory replaying in his memory every mission he gets assigned. But, for him, it was his first-hand experience with how cruel and gruesome reality could be.

Tough call, they say. We did what we could, they added. Leon knows all of those phrases by heart now. His gentle nature remains in him, even though it was covered by layers of a rough past and self-taught distrust. But even now, at his grown age, he fully believes they could have done so much more.

His mind is all over the place whenever he comes back from a mission. The usual white and never-changing walls surround everyone at the gathering that the president holds each time Leon ‘succeeds’ in a mission. His fingers seek any type of comfort, they twitch, they pinch his own clothes but nothing works. 

People notice, they do. It’s obvious that the spotlight is on him yet he never embraces it. Simple nods and awkward smiles are his way to go and signature gestures. Deep inside, he knows those white-collared dicks spare him weird and pitiful glances every chance they get.

His chest burns with a desire for solidarity and altruism. He feels a lot and feels everything too deep for his own liking. His core dances between his hatred for heroism and the need to be a hero. He doesn’t believe he’s one. Throughout his life he has contemplated who he is and the type of man he has grown to be. His mind is a living hell and he’s the demon incarnated.

He wonders when it all started. Maybe he was doomed for the start, as he stood in front of his parents’ grave asking God why. 

Deuteronomy 31:8; “The Lord himself goes before you and will be with you; he will never leave you nor forsake you. Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged.” The catholic father who used to hold the mass every Sunday said one morning. Now, did God forget about him? He should have prayed harder, to escape his own damnation.

Strained screams and the reek of rotten flesh fill his dreams. Madness and chaos are the main plots in his nightmares in which he pleads to stop having. His own reality was a mirror of every agony he has to face every day in his line of work. Why is God punishing him even in his dreams?

Those cries of pain and the smell of both burnt flesh and gunpowder are a toxic combination to Leon’s messed up mind. To him, they served as an everlasting proof of his devilish nature. He realizes that the image of innumerable lifeless bodies’ guts all over the floor with his brains smashed over the ground is a common occurrence for him. He becomes desensitized albeit his soul hurting for those who lay at his feet.

Now, he knows that what he's doing is in the name of survival. Millions of people live unaware of the dangerous situations he has to fight on a daily basis, they get to sleep on a warm bed next to their loved ones. If he wants to keep that on, he ought to kill.

But he wouldn’t do it otherwise, he wasn’t built for that life.

But despite that, the usual eerie feeling washes over him whenever he has to pull the trigger. He has grown accustomed to them, on the battlefield he was a fiery pawn, following orders as they told him to.

But as soon as his character ends his performance, his facade and mask falls off his face. He’s no longer a puppet from his higher-ups, he was just him. Leon.

II. RECOGNITION.

He places Matilda — his brush to paint every ground with blood — on his nightstand. To be fair, that’s a habit he can’t just let go. After every mission, his mind is all over the place for the next few days. Every sound activates a fear deep within him that keeps him awake at night and worried during the day.

He washes his hands, a thorough ritual he follows step by step. His hands touch the water, lukewarm to bring him some kind of comfort. He rinses away every blood spot he may have engraved on his bruised skin. The warm and clear liquid reaches his fingernails, which he meticulously scrubs, washing away any leftover of someone’s brain. 

He takes pride in being clean. However, it had developed into an obsession at this point. Being dirty meant killing, and killing meant despair. So, he tries to avoid his gaze on the mirror each time he arrives home. Sadly, he usually doesn’t recognize the man that is staring back at him.

Eventually, he turns off the faucet and walks towards the couch. He’s tired, both mentally and physically. He doesn’t get any younger and living as an agent surely doesn’t help his case. But at last, his home. Safe.

He turns on the TV, he’s welcomed by the News Channel which he quickly changes. Nowadays, it appears that nothing good happens in this messed up world, and he doesn’t want to bring sorrow to his home too. He searches through the vast choices of channels until something catches his eye. Casablanca.

A feeble smile forms on his face, a simple thing like that brings Leon a small percentage of happiness, which it’s a lot given his constant state of dullness. 

He sometimes quotes phrases from the movies he watches. He genuinely expects someone to notice, his tired blue eyes would roam over the numerous faces of agents, hoping someone catches the meaning behind his words. He’s tired, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t want to chat with someone.

Nobody seemed to notice, maybe they were busy.

Curiously, he had changed the channel just at the right moment when Rick Blaine said his line. Leon’s favorite.

“I never make plans that far ahead.” Both the character and Leon say simultaneously. It brings Leon a sense of joy. Pathetically enough, his hobbies remind him that he is, in fact, still human. 

He sighs, looking around his apartment. It was dull, it showed his lack of decoration and personal touch. He believes there was no point in placing ornaments or things of that sort since he doesn’t even spend most of his time there. In recollection, he has no home. At least not physically.

He’s a man of the world, people look at him and see someone who is strong and independent rather than a simple man. But his heart’s heavy, with a burden and anguish that no painkiller could ease.

He’s tempted to grab a bottle from his cabinet. Drown in the burning liquid and pass out. He doesn’t like alcohol. But he has always been weak to addictions. So, even when he was a rookie cop and his girlfriend broke up with him, he ran to the nearest bar and took all the booze he could. Maybe he should’ve noticed the red flags, and maybe gone to therapy or something like that. But… oh, right, the next day the world literally ended for him.

But, he refrains from doing so. Deep down, he knew that letting his addiction win would be a deadly solution to his problems. Acknowledging is the first step to recovery, experts say. However, he knew that he couldn’t do it alone.

Before even letting more negative thoughts come into his mind. He gets up from the couch and walks toward the bathroom, again. He stays in front of the door for a few seconds, as if scared of going back there. Eventually, he does enter.

His hand reaches for the switch and the lights are turned on. The luminescent white light revealed his face in front of the mirror. He takes one, two, and three deep breaths before fully opening his eyes. 

He bites his lips, seeking a sort of relief from that action yet he bites too hard that almost draws blood. He’s trying his best, this mundane act is no longer something that he does daily. So, grant him some recognition. 

His eyes travel and land on the mirror and after a while, he fully sees himself. His eyes are wide open, not because he was surprised to discover the man that was in front of him. But to compare him to the one he used to be. 

Just a few years ago, his blond hair was still bright, showing signs of his thorough routine. But now, it has turned into a black mop that could no longer be compared to his past self. His stubble has grown too, he was a late bloomer, he didn’t grow a beard until he reached the age of 27 when he could finally see some signs of pores growing hair. But to see his face so… rugged and rough was definitely a slap back to reality.

He takes two steps back, his hand reaching for the hem of his shirt. Swiftly, he takes it off, revealing his chest and abdomen. He was no stranger to his own physique since he obviously showers. 

However, the sight that the mirror provided was very different from seeing his point of view. His eyes were observing someone else’s perspective, if he ever had the chance to date someone they would see… that.

A chest which was filled with scars and bruises. They were like tattoos, imprinted on his skin. Those will never fade and if he grants someone the misfortune of dating him, will they be repulsed by the idea of witnessing his tainted self?

He wasn’t a hero, he was far away from calling himself that. But he is starting to think that maybe, just maybe, those marks can remind him of his arduous path. Not in a condescending way, but in a fulfilling memory.

III. FURTHERANCE.

He feels… weird. It’s been a while since he last got a haircut, and having someone holding scissors next to his neck wasn’t something he was looking for. But, there he is.

It took everything in him to call the hairdresser. He has long forgotten how to even speak to someone in a normal setting. “Agent Kennedy here, haircut, out.” He couldn’t say that! 

At last, he booked an appointment. It wasn’t the most expensive place, not because Leon didn’t have the money but rather, because he wasn’t looking to be surrounded by luxuries and opulence. A cheap but nice place would do.

Once he arrived, he noticed that he didn’t match well with the place. He knew he carried an aura of mystery and unapproachability but Jesus, it was now obvious with the way some old ladies kept looking at him as if asking: Who the hell is this man?

All of his previous actions led him to where he’s sitting now. 

The granny behind him keeps showering in compliments which he couldn’t quite understand. A few years ago, he may have blushed and waved a hand dismissively, but now? He doesn’t see how he could be called a handsome man.

For him, looking good and taking care of himself had stopped being a requirement a few months ago. But it wasn’t something that happened out of the blue. He gradually started noticing the changes and once he realized, his whole appearance had changed. 

His eyes are piercing and never changing, an unmistakable aura of exhaustion and helpness surrounds him. Yet, once the old lady's eyes land on him, he can’t help but smile back. It was always in his nature — he lives for others.

It’s always been like this. Naturally, his gullibility and his unfounded faith have shaped and molded him differently throughout the course of years. Having to survive an apocalypse, taking care of an infant, and getting betrayed by a certain someone would sequentially take a toll on him. Nonetheless, his primal wish for altruism and hope will always remain in him. They were his roots which led to creating a strong and fortified trunk. 

He’s still hoping this tree will thrive.

The lady asks him how long has it been since he last cut his hair, and he doesn’t know how to respond. Normally, he would cut it himself, since time was priceless and he couldn’t nor wanted to go to a specific place to get his hair trimmed. So he learned by himself, which wasn’t the safest option.

By the way the old woman’s hands brush on his hair, shaking and trembling due to the years, he knows that she knows. It’s obvious by the way some strands are awkwardly cut and overall most of them were misshapen. A poor attempt at maintaining his heartthrob boy hairstyle.

He remains silent — for most of the time. —  He doesn’t answer any questions that were directed at him. Not because he didn’t want to, it’s just that his line of job never prepared him for small talk. In fact, chit-chat just meant that someone was trying to gather information out of him, which prompted him to just refrain from speaking

The government has fucked him up.

He acknowledges it. But it’s not easy to make a change when that something is the only thing he has known for at least 15 years of his life. The curse of despair had so unlucky landed on him and he knew no witchcraft which could prevent him from that.

His mind register most things people would overlook. Given his duty at the job, he ought to be an observer. Yeah, he is also a fighter but he relies heavily on his analyzing skills before attacking. Knowing your enemy before striking is what has saved him every damn time.

His permanently furrowed eyebrows and cold eyes are the first thing he notices in the mirror as the woman keeps cutting some of his hair. A hand unconsciously reaches for the little space between his brows. 

Maybe if he stops frowning.

Maybe if he stops scowling.

Could he give a better impression of himself?

It’s lacking authenticity, he feels like he’s acting rather than being genuine. But for now, he tries forcing a gentle smile which doesn’t meet his eyes yet it’s better than almost pouting every time he breathes. 

All of a sudden, the bell of the door rings announcing that someone else has arrived. Some of the old ladies who are waiting for their turn start getting up from their chairs to greet the person who had just come in.

An everyday customer, that must be. Leon thought.

He was oblivious of how much you are going to change his life.

He can’t see you, not yet. But as the observer he is, he can deduce that this said individual is genuinely loved and appreciated. A drastic contrast between the way he’s received when he returns from a mission. Fake laughs, fake thankful words. 

A complete fraud.

You walk as if you own the place, but your stride doesn’t come off as haughty or arrogant. You exude an aura of familiarity, hospitality, and therefore a gentleness that it’s foreign to Leon. 

You walk towards his seat, where the granny is cutting his hair. As soon as the gray-haired woman sees you, he observes how her eyes light up with delight and joyfulness he hadn’t seen before. 

“Adelaide…” You stop before you even reach Leon. He admires the scene developing through the mirror. He sees you for the first time, you’re definitely a nurse or at least you work in the healthcare area given your uniform. You have your hands on your hips and a playful glare was formed on your face. If he could guess, you just caught this lady doing something she wasn’t supposed to do.

“I think I told you you should be resting.” You squint your eyes as you keep looking at Adelaide, Leon takes note of her name. You are accusing her, yet your friendly demeanor doesn’t falter. 

It’s refreshing to see innocent social interactions. It's a welcome-back reality check. At least, at this moment, he could embrace the tranquility. Although it will end as soon as the hairdresser informs him that his hair is done.

“You know I can’t stand still…” Her voice comes out as a booming melody. Even though the years were obvious by the wrinkles on her face, she sounded so animated and beaming. “This job is everything I have ever known.”

Now he can agree on something. However, he is fully aware the situation is deadly different. Between cutting hair and slitting someone else’s throat, there is a vast difference. But, in his mind, he could already make up a conversation based on that information.

“I know, but…” You take a step further and place a hand on the granny’s shoulder. Leon couldn’t help but feel like an outsider now that the three of them were reflected in the mirror. “You could just take a few days off… Your shoulder will thank you for it.”

As you advise the granny your eyes dart from her eyes in the mirror to Leon’s. 

For the first time.

You acknowledge his presence with a nod and a simple smile. Time seems to stop as he scans your face. You look younger, you are definitely younger than him. Not young enough for him to feel weird about it, but there was a certain glint in your eyes that told him you haven’t experienced misery and desolation in your life. Unlike him who has yet to experience happiness.

He doesn’t want to indulge so much, but his thoughts are having a blast right now. Maybe it was his lack of social interactions and meaningful relationships but he wants to know more about you. 

“It’s quite unusual to see a man here. I would have thought someone like you would go to a barber.” He comes back to reality as he notices you are talking to him. Your eyes remain fixed on his as your smile continues to be displayed on your face. 

Someone like… him? Yeah, that statement isn’t new to him. Especially since his demeanor is still so rugged. But hey! He’s making a change even though you don’t know.

“Barbers don’t know how to cut my hair.” He realizes his voice came out rigid and plain. He didn’t intend to, but he is used to his military speech and tone. “They… just don’t get it right…” His last sentence is definitely more hushed but not any less monotone. 

“Fair enough. At least Adelaide here knows exactly how to keep your hair safe from a buzz cut.” Leon lets out an amused breath as you joke about his hair. It feels like a gentle breeze, indulging in light-hearted teasing with a stranger. And not any stranger, but you.

He has felt attraction, he’s a man after all. His line of job wasn’t the most ideal to find a partner but he can’t deny how some agents were pretty to look at. However, he couldn’t form a romantic relationship there. Between death and violence, the battleground wasn’t the place to have a partner, form a family, and live happily ever after.

“Yeah…” He sheepishly responds, he doesn’t know what else to add. You had taken the reins of the conversation as soon as you teased him. Now, he hopes something comes into his mind to keep the conversation flowing.

“I haven’t seen any other gentleman wearing this hairstyle,” Adelaide says as she resumes her work. She moves the scissors gracefully. She is — with no doubt — an expert in this area. Though the simpleness of her salon tells him otherwise. “If I may say, I think it really suits you.”

“You should have seen me in the 90s.” Those words leave his lips before he even registers them in his mind. It was an innocuous joke, nonetheless, it carried a hint of self-deprecation. He doesn’t look like his old self, he knows that. Especially after seeing himself in the mirror that night. But nobody there has to know, for them, it was a simple light-hearted joke.

The whole salon erupts in laughter, he doesn’t think his words are that funny. But hey, he will take the compliment. 

However, his eyes catch a glimpse of you not laughing. At work, most people wouldn’t laugh at his own words because they weren’t needed. He knew that. But then again, none of you were in a life-or-death situation. Leon doesn’t want to overthink, but… did he come out as a pretentious dude? Or an arrogant dickhead? 

Or maybe you have caught the real meaning behind those words.

You let out a breathy laugh, not too long to be considered a giggle but not short enough to be a chuckle. You don’t add anything else, your eyes just linger on his face for a few more seconds before turning on your heel.

For a moment, he’s taken aback. He feels like he’s going crazy but for a split second, he sees himself in you. Not because you shared the same past or path and there was no way you had the same traumas. But the way you had observed him, made him feel analyzed, as if you were studying the way he talked and expressed himself.

Maybe he’s indeed going crazy.

Leon watches you taking a seat on an empty chair, next to another customer who gives you a polite smile. From there, he hears you telling Adelaide that your shift at the hospital has just ended and you just wanted to check up on her. 

For a while, he relaxes until Adelaide tells him that they are done. She persuades him to bleach his hair after he accidentally told her that he had blond hair in the past. But he escapes her attempts by telling her that he wants to pay.

He walks towards the register and pulls out a 20-dollar bill. It was quite cheap, especially when he had cut so much hair. At least he looks more presentable now.

You appear out of nowhere as he was paying. Your frame leans over the counter and for a second, you let the awkward silence linger in the air. 

Eventually, you speak.

“You don't belong here.” You say without an ounce of malice. You're expressing a fact. Leon has never been around the salon and doesn't look the part.

He frowns slightly, he was keeping up his laid-back appearance just fine until you blurted out your thoughts.

“It's my first time here.” He states before turning around and facing you. 

“That I know.” You nod.

“Then… was your comment really necessary?” Leon's words could come off as rude even though it wasn't his intention. But, it seems they don't even phase you.

“Not really.” You shrugged. Your voice was nonchalant. “But as you could already guess, I'm a nurse. And I have seen people like you come and go out of the hospital.”

He is trying to understand what your point is. Under any other circumstances, he would have told the other person off for even daring to speak about him and his lifestyle. He wasn't violent, not at all. But sometimes his limit was put to the test.

“What I'm trying to say is that…” He sees your attempt at explaining yourself. “I think It's safe to assume you're an agent or something of that sort, right?”

Leon doesn't react nor wants to. People knowing he was an agent wasn't a problem since it wasn't a secret. 

After a few seconds, he lets out a sigh he didn't know he was holding and nods. Being honest could be the start of a friendship, at least that's what Leon thinks.

“Was it my frame and physique that gave it away?” If he was an artist he could easily say he was getting better at the art of improving. Just a few weeks ago, he would have never left a comment like that lingering in the air. 

“Nope.” You cross your arms at the level of your chest. 

And there you go breaking his fantasies. He thought his phrase was so flirty.

“There's a scar on your cheek, it looks pretty deep.” You gesture to Leon where the scar is on your own cheek. He instinctively brings his finger to where it is in his. 

That's one of the few scars he remembers exactly how he got it. 2004, Spain. He experienced what betrayal was beforehand. Who he used to hold in high regard was the one who didn't hesitate to hold a knife and leave a nasty reminder of his deception. 

“I got it in a fight.” He sticks with a simple phrase, not diving deeper. Nonetheless, he realized you’re a perspicacious individual, lying won’t get him anywhere.

“Fight… right.” 

Both of you smile knowingly, the smirk giving away a sense of teasing between the two of you, for the first time. Even though you know nothing about how far and wild his job actually was, you had an idea that this said fight wasn’t just a normal and common one.

“So…” Leon sees how you shift your weight from one foot to another. There hasn’t been a shy bone in yourself ever since you entered the salon but now words don’t come out of your mouth as easily as before. “If you ever need a nurse, you can call me.”

As you rummage in your bag, you speak once again. “I may not be the most experienced but believe me when I said I had experience with some military and agents.”

You hand Leon a business card, your full name was there as well as your phone number and the hospital you work in. Your name falls swiftly out of Leon’s lips as he reads the content on the cardstock.

“And senior citizens.” He flashes you a dazzling smile, he doesn’t seem to realize that it’s been a while since he last smiled so freely and so.. natural. It feels like the sun hitting on his skin after a cold day. A warmth he had long forgotten he could feel.

He knew it was soon. Too soon to even imagine being your friend. But as he puts the card in his pocket, he wishes that this could be the beginning of something more.

IV. RELAPSE & RESTART.

He almost falls once he opens up at the door that leads him to his apartment. Another gruesome mission to add to his mental diary and more scars that will adorn his already hurting body. 

The same never-ending story, the same story being told once again. He doesn’t know when it will end. 

If it even ends.

The last months have been all about his ‘recovery’. He was a patient man, he was sure of that. However, he doesn’t understand how doing mundane things would help him. He was taking baby steps and walking on eggshells, trying not to fall back into his old addictions.

Which were slowly creeping into his mind.

A call from Hunnigan was the last thing he expected a few days ago. He was surprised not to get any task earlier but that didn’t mean he wanted to go back to fight off bioweapons and kill walking undead who were once rational people, with dreams and wishes just like him. 

But as much as he wanted to hang up and leave that world behind — knowing that the government wouldn’t give two shits about him and would walk through the same door he previously did and blow his brain — he accepted the mission.

In his own story, he’s a tragic character who can’t break the cursed loop he’s trapped in. The soft sounds of the rain no longer brought comfort to his aching heart, since those constant pitty-patter reminded him of the blood dripping from the people who were killed, by no one else but him.

He often thought he was going crazy, especially now as he walked towards the kitchen and stumbled on his own feet. Seeking something to grab on while he fights off the exhaustion. This last mission had taken a toll on him, both mentally and physically.

His fingers reach for the edge of the counter as he finally stays on his feet without the fear of falling onto the floor. His tired eyes close for a moment as he takes in his surroundings, his lonely apartment and his lonely life and his lonely self and his —.

He shakes his head, he wasn’t exactly in solitude. After that hurried meeting with you, he gained a new friend. He got to know you personally, something that he had missed for the longest time. To actually know someone deeper and not only their last names and occupations.

In exchange, he gave himself the chance to be more vulnerable. He couldn’t deny the attraction that he felt. But he was too afraid to fuck up the chance to have something meaningful with you. He told you about his years at the police academy, and he briefly shared his experience in Raccoon City, trying to be as vague as possible. In other words, he bared his soul to you.

But that didn’t mean everything was filled with butterflies and rainbows.

One night when you were treating one of his injuries (which he never treated in the past) he accidentally told you about his addictions and dark thoughts. Those which showed a persistent state of numbness and trauma. It was never his intention to worry you about those minor things, which he truly believed were not important.

But, as he recalls that night, he realizes that sadly, he can’t just end it all with a bullet through his brain. He has always thought about it, it’s not like the thought hasn’t crossed his messed up mind on those lonely nights when he wished someone would grant him a blink of sleep without having to dream about death and despair. 

His eyes open as he once again walks through the kitchen, the moonlight provides a faint source of light that casts on his dark space of living. He remembers that you once told him he should get some lights, and he indeed bought them but he can’t just seem to find enough time to put them on.

His mind wanders through the moments he has spent with you. You always said the most soothing of things, when you wanted to. You advised him, told him how worthy he can be and how special he must be to others even though they don’t know it yet.

Another step.

He didn’t quite catch the meaning of those words. For him, he only brings despair wherever he goes. A demon of destruction and annihilation. If hell had a list of its next guests he believes his name would be on the top of that list. God wouldn’t want him in his paradise.

One more step.

Nonetheless, you weren’t a teddy bear who only chanted words of praise and fairy-tale stories. You called out his bullshit, especially when he dared to joke about going back to his old habits.

Stop.

“Would you like a glass of whiskey?” He would sarcastically ask you whenever you visited him at his apartment, knowing the kind of reaction he would get out of you. You had none of that, though. As soon as he uttered those words, the grip your hand had on his arm would get tighter to the point that Leon would beg you to stop it. 

He knew you genuinely cared for him and he convinces himself that you’re wasting your time with someone like him. Someone already broken from the start. You were younger, with a life ahead of yourself, and a career to follow. And like the devil incarnate that he is, he is stopping you from that.

The story repeats itself, everything he touches turns into dust. He’s no longer a human but the shell of a man who once had dreams of becoming a cop. To become someone who would help innocent people. But instead, he’s killing those same poor souls in the name of the fucking government.

His fingers graze over the cabinet.

He despises his life, he hates everyone who forced him to follow this path. The resentment flows in his system as his hand grips the cabinet door even tighter; if he wasn’t so tired from his mission, he would have broken the tacky wooden furniture.

Why does it have to be this way?

Why does he have to continue witnessing the horrors of his life every day? 

Why do the ghosts of people haunt him every day as he tries to close his eyes and relax? 

Why has he become so desensitized to the bloodshed and yet as soon as he comes back to reality, it knocks the air out of his lungs?

And why is he already unscrewing the lid of his whiskey?

Time slows down for a moment as he gambles his choices. It's been months since he last took a sip from his so beloved whiskey. But at the same time, just one tiny drop would crumble all of his progress.

But why is progress so important if the product is going to be the same? Even if he gets better, his life won't. The only difference is that he may smile more during missions and act like everything is fucking alright even if it isn't.

But he isn't so lucky to fall deeper into his hell that easily. As soon as the cap falls onto the floor, the front door knob twists, announcing that someone is entering.

And who else has a key to his apartment?

The last person he wants to see right now.

The door creaks, antagonizing the imminent moment when you would see him at the scene of the crime with him being the culprit of his own homicide.

“Leon?” He hears you say as you step in, the darkness of the room allowing him a couple of seconds to hide the murder weapon – the bottle – and act clueless. But it seems that not even his nervous system is on his side. He just stands still.

“Sorry for being late. I had one hell of a shift back at–...” He sees your frame as you approach the kitchen. Your face falls momentarily, taking in the sight you were watching. Disheveled hair, bruises all around his face, and dark eyebags that gave the impression he hadn't slept for weeks.

Your eyes fall on the bottle in his hand. There was no cap which leads you to believe that he was drinking. Leon wanted to scream and tell you that you got it all wrong, but no words left his lips.

“Are you drinking?” Anger-filled, you take long strides before reaching for the bottle. Your eyes scan the content, seeing that it is half empty. Your accusatory gaze falls on Leon's.

“It's not what it looks like.” Worst phrase ever. He knows that he's telling you the truth, yet he couldn’t come up with anything worse than that. 

He looks like a kicked puppy, his eyes wide open as you keep staring at him with those eyes filled with… disappointment which it's worse than being screamed at. He wasn’t built for that. He was used to resentment looks, to punches and kicks. But disappointment came every time he had to tell families that their father wouldn’t make it that night because he died on a mission. It came each time he had to inform a mother that their beloved son succumbed to a virus. 

The once rookie cop still lives within him. The one who hates disappointing people, the one who wants to save everyone. But especially the one who can’t do it alone.

“Then help me understand.” You place the bottle on the kitchen counter. Your stare doesn’t falter yet a hint of concern washes over your face. “Because all I see is you drinking after literally promising me that you’d never do it again.”

As a matter of fact,  you didn’t actually see him drinking. He wanted to say that, but he knew it would bring even more anger to your already burning expression. However, as soon as that thought left his mind, another one came.

The sole fact that he didn’t drink, doesn’t spare him from any culpability. If it wasn’t for your intrusion, he’d be lying on the couch, wasted and intoxicated waiting to pass out. 

You take a deep breath, trying to keep your emotions in check. Leon isn’t dumb, he’s exhausted but he’s aware of how much you’re holding back. You would never scream at him, that’s obvious. But you didn’t want to bring even more self-hatred to him.

He had his own mental battles, ones you will never understand no matter how much he describes them to you. His anxiety was always bothering him, like an annoying bug buzzing in his ear. You knew how overwhelming everything was.

And you knew how recovery wasn’t an easy step to take, but it definitely takes so much maturity and perseverance, something that Leon surrounds himself in – even though he doesn’t see it. He’s a fighter, he’s a hero, he’s a lover. He keeps fighting and fighting even when he doesn’t see an end. But he mastered the art of moving forward.

So, he’s allowed to fall from time to time.

“Did you drink?”

“No, I didn’t.”

“Were you planning on doing it?”

He’s silent for a moment, he’s afraid that his answer will mean more disappointment from you. That you will get to see how pathetic he really was. 

“Yes.” He eventually confesses.

You absentmindedly nod, letting out a long sigh.

“Another mission?”

“...yes.”

You didn’t ask for the details, knowing – to an extent – about Leon’s job, you knew it must have been so impactful in order to almost throw him back to his old friend, alcohol. And you knew Leon was like a sponge, he absorbs everything he experiences and never tells anyone. You thank God that he accidentally told you about his addiction, now you can at least protect him.

“It was…” Leon continues speaking, his fingers scratching a spot on the kitchen counter. His eyes don’t meet yours, as if he’s trying his best to make the words come out of himself. “It was really bad this time.”

He lets out a dry chuckle that sounds more like an attempt to water down the situation. One thing about him is that he doesn’t cry. He wouldn’t let someone see that side of him. He’s rigid, he’s stoic, he’s unemotional. He’s a DSO agent, born to serve his country and die for it. 

But right now he wants to be a child again. 

He wants to be that same infant who would fall on purpose just to get kisses from his mother. He wants to be that same innocent child who could come back running to his mom’s arms when the world was too scary. 

He wants to stop the world for a second and cry at the top of his lungs, he wants to punch a wall until his knuckles bleed, he wants to be held, he wants to be told everything will be okay even if it will never be okay.

His thoughts drift to when he was younger – to when he could imagine himself being a better person. If he could speak with himself, what would he say? The image of a tiny him crosses his mind, a young Leon playing all by himself with tiny police cars.

Within him, there’s a rookie cop begging for help amidst the gruesome scenario he had to face back in 1998. Beneath all the layers of self-hatred and resentment, hidden in that dead gaze.

He shakes his head, in a poor effort of swallowing the lump that was forming in his throat. An imminent sign that his emotions will fall like a waterfall, reminding him of his own weaknesses. His curtain of hair falls onto his eyes, blurring his vision. 

Or was it his tears? He no longer knows.

He deserves an award for how hard he’s trying to stop the inevitable. His fingers shake, his breath gets heavier and his heart aches. But he couldn’t bear it for much longer, especially knowing that at least, he had someone to go to when his mind was too much for him.

So, he allows himself to feel human again.

“It was horrible…” He finally breaks down. He silently lets the tears fall from his eyes as he sobs. The thought of every mission is on his mind as the constant spams of his sobs control his body. 

He feels like the air has been knocked out of his lungs, the uncontrollable way that he chokes on his sobs makes his throat constricted. 

He lowers his head, he doesn’t want you to see how weak he has become. A tough agent simply doesn’t cry. An agent bites, chews, swallows, and shuts up. 

Silence sets in the kitchen, occasionally broken by Leon’s tears and choked breaths. His fingers itched to grab something, to hold onto something. To feel that he wasn’t alone, that he was indeed not all by himself in this messed up world.

You slowly reach for him. Baby steps, for someone who was touched starved, even if he was unaware of that fact. For someone that’d jump whenever he feels touched, because his mind can’t let go of the fear of being bitten, of being killed. 

You quietly made your way to Leon’s hand, your fingers ever so grazing it. Feather touches brushes against the back of his hand, making sure to notice if he shows any signs of discomfort. There were none.

However, you surely notice that his sobs have stopped for the time being. He’s still sniffing though. As if on cue, his glassy eyes lock on yours, before you fully intertwine your fingers with his.

You didn’t hug him immediately, you didn’t throw your arms around his neck at the very right moment when he started crying, and you especially didn’t give him a shoulder pat as if saying “Don’t cry.” He appreciates the fact that you took it slow, you gave him a warning and proceeded further when he allowed you to.

Loving takes time, and loving Leon would surely take longer than anything you have experienced.  You have treated many patients, you know that the injuries in a body heal fairly quickly. Now, the wounds in a soul that was doomed from the start are not something that easy to mend. 

After a while of your fingers being intertwined and sweat covering the palm of your hands, you feel the faintest squeeze, coming from Leon’s side. You look at him and see a tiny smile formed on his lips with some dry tears adorning his face.

You say nothing, scared to break the atmosphere of tranquility that had formed after Leon stopped crying. It took some seconds for Leon to muster up the courage to go further, intimacy and platonic touches were already something he was unfamiliar with. Now, he had to add romantic feelings to that list.

If he had met you when he was younger, he’d have surely asked you out. Take you on a nice little date and steal a kiss or two. But now, he was trapped in the course of the years, older and supposedly wiser. However, you were the one who was being strong – for him. Not the other way around.

But, as much as he wants to pity himself and wonder about those what-ifs, he has a friend now. He would take care of that heart of his in the future. For now, he wants to embrace the one friendship he hasn’t tainted yet.

The one person who still hasn’t seen the horrors that this world has to offer.

He untangles his fingers from yours and looking at your eyes one last time, he brings your hand to his cheek. The palm of your hand bringing some warmth to his skin.

With his eyes closed now, you see an expression you haven’t seen before. A peaceful one, as if he was sleeping without his usual nightmares. It was comforting, in a sense, knowing that you have brought a moment of serenity to his tumultuous life.

You were surprised at first, not expecting Leon to show that display of affection. However, part of you understands that he was seeking comfort. It’s been a while since he last felt safe with someone, someone who he could cry with, someone who wouldn’t judge him.

Your thumb grazes over his stubbled cheek, wiping away any proof that he has been crying. 

“Thank you…” His voice is barely a whisper, you almost didn’t hear him singing his gratitude.

You want to say “You’re welcome” or “It’s okay” but none of those phrases convey what you really wish to show. Saying the first one would dismiss all of your previous actions as a simple attempt to comfort him. And the latter was a lie, it’s not okay, even if you wanted to believe it yourself.

“I got you.” You stick with that one. It wasn’t a lie but a promise you plan on fulfilling. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“You promise?” He asks, opening his eyes. His tone is a hopeful one.

“I do.” You reassure him.

With your free hand – the one that wasn’t on Leon’s cheek –  you reach for the bottle of whiskey that was long forgotten after their little situation.

“But before that, we need to get rid of this.” You show it to Leon before he chuckles. “We’re now only drinking apple juice.”

He didn’t miss the use of we instead of you. Maybe he’s reading between the lines, but he hopes that you’re by his side now that he wants to leave his addiction for sure. He wants you to see how much he can achieve if he sets his mind on it.

“Apple juice it is.”

V. ABSOLUTION.

The nakedness of his body didn't override the vulnerability he showed once he let you in his life, mind, and soul. But as you help him wash his back, he can’t help but reminisce about that first night when he first saw himself in the mirror.

He remembers being insecure about showing his scars to someone, scared that the other person would be disgusted by the sight of it. 

However, you weren’t repulsed, far from that. In your mind, Leon’s skin served as a canvas and each bruise and scar were strokes of a paintbrush. In this case, they showed Leon’s hard life and non-achievable freedom. They showed how much Leon had endured and how many fights he had won.

Therefore, they were proof that Leon was a lover of life. He loved everyone else’s lives that he would sacrifice his in order to protect the world.

Leon sometimes drops hints about his job. He didn’t directly tell you about the government and its fucked up methods, but you collected the clues and formed your own puzzle.

He was forced to join.

It was strange, in a way. To know that a gentle soul like him had to face the hostility of a country, of a government that could easily threaten someone into joining the force. However, you weren’t clueless about its power.

Eventually, after those hints, other hints came along the way. 

Leon was sweet, funny, and a gentleman. Your dynamic as a nurse and patient was long forgotten even though you still tend to some of his wounds. And your friendship shifted into something more, especially after the whiskey situation months ago. 

However, even though his qualities overshadow his flaws, there’s something he can’t hide.

He’s too awkward for his own good.

Ever since the alcohol incident, Leon would always try to be smooth and compliment you over the simplest things. “Have you done something different to your hair? No, you didn’t? Oh… Well, it looks good” He would often facepalm himself because he couldn’t flirt even if his life depended on it.

Eventually, after those not-so-discrete hints, he took matters into his own hands. He often faked minor injuries. “You don’t understand, my eye literally hurts” and he would have access to admire every tiny detail your face had to offer. From your moles to the way your eyebrows furrowed trying to concentrate.

And that led to feathery touches. In the name of friendship, of course.

After one dinner – that Leon so gratefully prepared – you would often find yourself sitting on the couch, shoulders pressed to one another as you played with his rough hands. You would ask him where he got that scar, how he got this one right here, wow it looks really deep. 

And he let you because he did the same. Because those angel-like touches soon turned into endlessly staring sessions where silence was more inviting than any word could be. You gazed into each other’s eyes for only God knows how long. Expecting that the other one would break the intimate moment but none of them had the heart to do so.

It would be an understatement to say that Leon felt so safe with you. Over the months, Leon had gotten to know what a home felt like. His apartment remained the same, physically and aesthetically speaking. But the way it immediately lightens up when you arrive – yeah, Leon could finally call it home.

That’s why, it was so easy for Leon to let those words slip out of his mouth one night when you were leaving.

“You feel like home.” 

And for a moment, you let those words sink into you. You thought you were merely an acquaintance, a simple friend at most. But no – there he was, Leon Kennedy, US government agent, telling you that you’re his home.

Meanwhile, the silence at that moment made Leon go insane. He thought he fucked it up, you would surely run away now. Who the fuck says that someone is their home? Shit shit shit—

“You’re my home too.” 

And that was everything he needed to hear to stop all of his dark thoughts from appearing once again. The darkness that embraced both of them set the perfect scenario to indulge in this crucial moment. A late confession, but a real one.  

As he gazes into your eyes, he can’t help but wonder if this tiny fragment of happiness would go away like everything else had in his life. You’re too precious, too important to die, to vanish from his life and never come back.

And your hand reached for his cheek, your thumb caressing the same scar you noticed when you first met him, he couldn’t help but ask God to grant him one more chance in life. He promises — in a fragment of seconds — to be a better human, to be a better citizen but please, don’t take away this last string of hope he’s holding to.

And he felt that God had finally responded to his prayers when he saw how you leaned closer, letting your lips find his in a gentle but so meaningful and awaited kiss. He hesitantly parted his lips, scared that this may be a dream. But of course, he doesn’t dream so that had to be the reality. The sorrow, the anxiety, the longing, and the expectations — all of those were long forgotten as he mentally thanked destiny for this.

“Earth to Leon” You giggle behind him as you rub a sponge all over his back. You were careful not to be so rough on his already aching back. “A penny for your thoughts?”

Of course, he found himself daydreaming. 

From that night, his relationship with you skyrocketed. And his home became your home too.

He doesn’t know when it happened, but he found himself getting even more comfortable with you. He didn’t even need to ask himself — letting you see him naked as both of you wash each other’s bodies? Yeah, it was definitely love. 

And he loves being in love.

“I just spaced out for a bit.” He responds with a yawn, the silence that surrounded both of you was inviting to just sleep throughout the night. Funnily enough, you only just sleep. Leon was grateful the first nights since he was getting used to the fact that someone else was sleeping on his bed.

But now he was growing a bit impatient.

Especially with your lingering touches.

As you let the water wash away all the soap, your lips soon find his back, pressing soft kisses on each scar that adorned his skin. “It’s okay…” a kiss on a tiny scar. “Are you going to take your sleeping pills tonight?” Another kiss on a scar that was near his shoulder.

Right… he was put on medication. He often takes sleeping pills when his eyes won’t shut down even if drowsiness is engulfing him. But lately, sleep has become easier, and his nightmares have decreased.

He’d like to think that after you started sleeping next to him, his mind started to feel at peace. But that was something unreal, nobody could fix someone. 

But he had to be honest, you surely helped him a lot.

“Not tonight.”

He feels you nodding as your chin lays on his shoulder blade. It’s in moments like these where he thinks that life doesn’t sound so bad. As he zones out and lets you do all the job, he realizes that maybe it’s okay to keep on living.

He’s a big teddy bear, to say the least. The DSO agent who once swore duty to his country was pushed aside when he was with you. Why would he need to keep up his facade when home meant security, therefore you are what makes him safe. So, as you help him out of the shower, drying him off with a towel he lets you take the reins, his body on autopilot mode.

His strong arms wrap around your frame, perfectly molding and fitting like puzzle pieces. It feels like the flow of water, gently swaying your bodies until they reach their destination, their little nest away from everything outside. 

He takes pride in serving, providing, and protecting. It was deeply imprinted in him, right in his bone marrow. The blood that runs through his veins pushes him to never stop, to continue working for others. 

However, as you help him sit down on the bed his mind shuts down for a moment. He allows himself to take this moment of peace and drown himself in it. Be a little selfish, if he can. The tranquility of a domestic setting was still so foreign to him yet he doesn’t understand how he could’ve lived without feeling this for so long.

The towel around his midsection hugs him just right to prevent the material from falling. His hair is still a little wet, and so is yours. You use the extra towel to help him dry off. 

He very much enjoys the lazy touches you share at nights like these. It was a nice reminder that the darkness of the imminent dusk will not bring more nightmares, but peaceful dreams. The ghost of his past was getting tired of haunting him, it seems.

You’re still pretty careful with him, as if you were handling fine ceramic which in a sense, he was. He was shattered porcelain, glued back together with utter care. You both were artists, who completed with great skill this piece of art called life.

And now, your lips are acting like a brush, as they touch Leon’s skin. Kisses are planted along his jaw and he lets out a sigh from the feeling of being treated with so much devotion. If he could serve as a blank canvas, he was ready to rewrite his story with you.

Or maybe not rewrite, his past made him a person as much as it hurts. His grief, his pain, and his previous solitude built up the man that he is now. So, he will add another page to his life story. He will paint another landscape where the sun rises and casts its lights on the world. 

He looks at you and sees nothing but raw love and a hint of desire hidden behind those orbs. He notices, then, that just like him you are indeed eager to please him in the other sense of the word. It was embarrassing to realize that he shouldn’t have kept quiet about his needs when you had already proved to him that it was okay to speak, to think, to feel.

It’s been a while since he last let himself be this physically vulnerable. Sure he wasn’t an inexpert in the area but it has never been this intimate. Hearts never bonded and names weren’t remembered. Never has someone truly cared about his welfare before. To put it a name, he’d have called it a trade. He let off some steam and the other part got what they wanted. No strings attached and surely no feelings hurt.

However, it would be a lie if he told himself he didn’t crave to actually make love to someone. To feel someone’s body brushed against his in a sweet and gentle motion. To let himself and his soul be kissed with so much love that it would make him cringe. 

You stop your waterfall of kisses for a while, letting the silence linger for a few seconds as you grab his hand. Slowly, you interlace your fingers with him, a well-known display of affection from you. Your signature, you may even say.

“Hey…” His eyes search yours, and he sees how you’re looking for approval, for his consent. He once heard eyes are the mirror of someone’s soul and the world suddenly feels so small as he remembers that he met those same eyes months ago, unaware of the effect you’d have on him.

“Hey.” You repeated, for the second time this night, his mind decided to wander again. “Is it okay if…” you trail off, not because of embarrassment or sudden shyness, not at all. But he can deduce that you wanted him to finish your sentence. 

I’ve been dying to touch you. I’ve been craving you touching me, he wanted to say. However, his sense of decency stops him from uttering that rather needy phrase. In a way, he can infer that you already know about his lustful desires. It was a matter of time before both of you indulged in those carnally and normal needs. 

Nonetheless, he is oblivious that you won’t let this night be like any other. No, you wouldn’t try anything too crazy — not yet — But after months of knowing him deeper and rawer, you know he’s tired. Exhausted from his life, exhausted from his job, and overall drained. He deserves to be treated right and you’ve been excelling in that task. 

But, you’ll show him that he can be as greedy as he wants to be.

“You can trust me.” You say in a hushed tone as if you were whispering a secret to him. Your hand slowly descends until it reaches where the towel meets his waist. 

“I do trust you.” He responds with a determined tone amidst the suggestive move of your hand. “I feel like I won the lottery with you.”

“Is that so?” You laugh, resuming your kisses around his stubbled cheek. Although this time, they carry some neediness in them.

“Positive.” He lets out a shaky breath as your finger ever so grazes over where the towel is tucked in. “Because you saw good in me when I had nothing to offer, you—”

“Stop.” Your voice remains soft even though your command doesn’t falter. ”None of those self-loathing words right now.”

He’s speechless for a moment before he slowly nods and lets your hand go lower. Leon feels his blood going south just from a few words.

But then again, loving you was really easy. So it was no surprise that he found himself already leaking at the anticipation of your imminent touch. 

“Let me make you feel better.” You whisper, allowing your hand to undo the towel that was previously wrapped around him. In a swift movement, it falls on the floor exposing his already hard length. 

You glance at Leon one last time and observe his reaction. There was no sight of changes of mind or hesitation, so you free his and your desire.

You connect your lips against his neck, and with gentle sucks, you prepare him for what’s about to come. Your wish —besides touching him— is bringing comfort in such an intimate act like this. He has trusted you with his soul and body before, that’s correct. But right now, you can feel the level of loyalty and therefore love he’s showing you. 

Your hand reaches for his dick, you thumb the slit of his tip collecting the precum that has already formed there, using it as a lubricant. 

Your fingers circle around his cock and, slowly, you start stroking him. You don’t want him to cum just yet, the feeling of being treated like this was something you want him to drown in. So, you keep up the steady pace. 

You disconnect your lips from his neck and focus your eyes on your ministration on his cock. The lewd sounds combined with the faint whimpers coming out from his lips were almost like background music that you are starting to love. 

He takes the opportunity of you pulling away from his neck to hide his face in the crook of yours. His breath tickles your skin as he continues letting out the most pretty sounds you’ve ever heard.

“Fuck…” He hisses as his word gets lost between the shlick sounds of your hand jerking him off. His nose brushes against the side of your neck as his cries fill your ears. You can hear him whispering your name from time to time, as well as some other curses of his own.

However, his tiny cries of pleasure soon turned into real sobs. 

No, he wasn’t sad but Christ, it was the first time actually took their time to focus on his pleasure and his well being. He always thought that love was never meant for him, that the simple act of falling in love would be impossible and unachievable. The thought of having his life attached to someone else used to send shivers down his spine.

Now, his world is no longer black and white, your mere existence brought color to his life.

Your hand stops for a minute, worried that you may have done something wrong. That leads Leon to pull away from your neck as some tears roll down his face. 

“Sorry… I — just continue please…” The desperation in his voice didn’t go unnoticed as he went back to nuzzle against your neck. And even if he was dazed out at this very moment, you will remember to talk about this again at another time.

“It’s okay, let it all go.” You reassure him as you resume your previous motions. It doesn’t take long before your hand sends him over the edge and close to his own climax. 

You pump him, your thumb grazing over the head of his dick from time to time. He absentmindedly thrust his hips up into your hand, seeking his near release. For him, you were granting him a visit to Heaven itself. Just the mere touch of your hand had him seeing angels and cherubims. How would it feel to be deep inside of you?

His lips are red from biting them, attempting to muffle his moans. His brain is a mess, with thoughts of you and only in there and his cock is throbbing as it chases his own high. Overall, Leon was putty in your hands. 

And by the way, his hips are starting to miss their rhythm, you know that it was a matter of seconds before Leon came undone in your hand.

“You’ve been so good for me…” You coo, still jerking him off with a slightly faster pace now. “You deserve to cum, don’t you?” You were always good with words but Jesus, he didn’t expect you would literally talk him through it.

As you whisper those praise words, he can’t stop his hips from rutting and bucking into your hand. “Yeah…— fuck — I’ve been so good. Please, let me cum.”

The image of a tough agent begging for release will surely imprint in your mind for a while. 

“Of course.” Your lips tug into a smile as you pick up the pace. It was a sight to behold, seeing Leon coming undone in your hands with his eyes rolling to the back of his head, and a dazed out expression that brought butterflies to your tummy.

Eventually, your hands slow down as Leon writhes under your touch. He lets out a loud muffled whimper as white thick ropes of cum spill onto his stomach and of course, your hand. 

He stays still for a while, letting his body rest for a second. He plants lazy kisses on your neck as a way of saying “Thank you” since words couldn’t really translate what he was feeling right.

“Shit—” After a while, Leon curses as his half-lidded eyes meet yours. His expression is one of exhaustion but his lazy smile tells you he was brimming with happiness. He reaches for his towel that was previously thrown off and cleans your hand.

“Are you ok?” You ask as Leon wipes your hand, you can’t help but let out a giggle at the considerate action.

“Yeah but…” He trails off as he cleans his abdomen too. You can already predict what was going on in that head of his. “What about you?”

“I’m okay Leon.” You sigh as you bring your now clean hand to his cheek. “Your pleasure is mine. Besides, you’re exhausted.”

But as much as your statement was true, you can’t deny the desire that was dripping between your thighs. Between the intimacy of your act and having Leon so vulnerable in your hands, your system knows what it wants.

“I am.” He doesn’t deny the fact that your ministrations sucked the life out of him. But he can keep going. For the first time in his life, he is grateful for his stamina as an agent. “But that doesn’t mean we can’t do it.”

Before you could even protest, Leon was already kissing your neck. The scent of your body wash filling his nostrils as his lips get hungrier and needier for the taste of your skin. And as you attempt to once again speak, he muffles your words with his mouth on yours.

You feel your reasoning go weak as well as your limbs. It took a few kisses for you to comply and let yourself be laid on the bed, strong but gentle hands holding you close even when you fell on the soft mattress.

He’s above you for a second as he admires the view. Your towel, unlike his, was still wrapped around your body. You wriggle your way to where the pillows of the bed are and you wait for him there.

He wastes no time to join you, carefully lying next to you rather than above you. You catch a glimpse of what he’s trying to do. One of his calloused hands reaches your waist and softly motions you to roll over your side. 

You roll over and you’re met with your reflection on the mirror that was next to your bed. Funnily enough, it was perfectly placed so it showed both of your bodies. Somewhere deep in your mind, you wonder if Leon set up the mirror there for this right purpose. 

But then again, Leon was spontaneous, behind all of his layers of grumpiness and sadness that once used to surround him, you knew his sappy, corny, and cheesy side that was hidden. And now, you get to notice his quirks every single day.

He grips your hips as he lays sideways too, slightly spooning you. “You no longer need this…” He murmurs as he takes off your towel, the sight of your bare body in the mirror has his mouth watering. Acting like a damn dog wasn’t on the list of things he’s proud of.

As he discards the fabric that covered your body, you feel his once again hard cock. But this time, it was painfully close to your core that you could already feel every vein brushing against your walls.

“May I?” He knows your answer, he’s just asking for the sake of it. To hear your voice dripping with lust and neediness. To hear you hum that yes in your sweet tone as always.

“Please…” Your whisper was enough to make his cock twitch. What is with you and your voice that melts Leon whenever he hears you? You’re both his salvation and weakness. He can’t function without you.

He has always wanted to leave a mark in this world. That he had indeed existed for something else than death and destruction. That he was more than Leon Kennedy, the US’ best weapon. He wanted to show the world that he, Leon — just Leon — was more than his messed-up destiny. 

He loves, he desires, he laughs and he yearns for connection. And right now, his body’s aching to feel you around him.

He snuggles closer and wraps a tight arm around your waist, hugging your abdomen just right. Instinctively, you arch your back, letting your rear brush against Leon’s dick making hiss from the friction.

For a moment, he stops hugging you. You almost whined for the loss of closeness when you feel Leon guiding his dick which easily slides through your wet folds. The tip of it bumps against your clit sending electricity all over your body.

He’s savoring this moment. Sadly, he doesn’t think he’ll last much longer once he starts. But, at least, he knows that this won’t be the last time since he finally allowed himself to be selfish, to wish happiness for himself.

Happiness has a name and is both yours and Leon’s.

At last, he pushed into you, just the tip for now. Admiring your face in the mirror, he whispers sweet nothings against your ear. Rambles about how perfect you look and feel right, how lucky he is, and so on.

“Look at you…” Leon points at the mirror and you open your eyes which are glassy from all the pent-up desire you’ve been holding back. At any other moment given, you’d have been quite self-conscious about the exposure of your naked body. But Leon — as you once did with him — is eager to show you that you’re indeed a sight for sore eyes.

“Look how perfect you look being mine.” Even though his words could sound possessive to anyone else, you know his voice brings out affection and tenderness. There are a few things Leon could call them his. And most of them are mundane items that don’t exactly bring comfort to him. 

But to call you his was something that he has always looked for. To show you off, buy you everything you’ve always desired, and tell the world that he had finally found his home. His one and only.

As he finishes his statement with a kiss on your cheek, he eases himself into you. He pushes all of his length as he hushes you once you hiss from the stretch.

“Shhh there you go…” He once again wraps his arm around you, burying his face in the crook of your neck as he inhales the scent he has grown to love. The same that has been lulling him to sleep ever since you decided to move in with him. 

He stays still for a few seconds, the feeling of filling you up could make him cum right on the spot but he stops himself. He distracts from your pulsating walls by kissing your neck and sucking on the skin which will clearly turn a soft purple color the next morning.

The pain soon turned into comfort and therefore it resulted in pleasure. As he hears you saying a soft “You can move” he slowly pulls out before thrusting into you with the same pace and force. He feels your walls clamping down his cock as he continues his motions. 

He slides in and out with lazy thrusts, his and your eyes are closed as heavy breaths and drowsy moans leave your lips. You were correct, he was exhausted from his previous high. But the way you drowsily made love was making this whole thing even more perfect.

“Taking me so well.” He murmurs against your skin, his breath tickling your neck as he grips your waist even tighter than before, as if he is scared that once he opens his eyes you won’t be there. “Sucking me in, like you know I belong here.”

His hand goes to your chest, where he plays with one of your nipples. His fingers pinching the sensitive spot as his hips continue lazily bucking into yours already feeling like his mind was all over the place.

You feel a heat forming on your belly as Leon continues whispering words you can’t quite register now. Too drunk in desire and too cock drunk to even care. “Fuck I love you so much…”

“I love you too.” You can’t really say anything else, everything would be sentences with no coherent meaning or sense. So you stick with your favorite phrase, you could sing every day that you love Leon, and he would do the same. Because the word love was once so far away from him.

It was poetic to see that Leon could feel his second climax of the night near as he heard you say that you love him. The back and forth of his hips slightly increase their speed but it remains true to the lazy nature of the act right now, though.

“I’m close.” Leon stutters as he says those words. “Can I come inside you? Please tell me I can.” There is some desperation in his voice, an aching and burning desire to paint your insides. 

“Fuck, yes. Yes, you can.” You manage to say before Leon lets out countless thanks you. Your body starts writhing under his grasp as your fingers start digging into Leon’s arms, leaving an imprint of your nails on his skin.

“Cum on me. Go ahead, do it for me.” He coos, coaxing more sweet whimpers out of you. “Let me fill you up.” 

You let out a muffled whimper as you came undone. He could feel your cunt gripping him as you reach your desired orgasm. Eventually, Leon’s hips which were previously rocking into your and slapping against his skin are now slowing down.

The wet noises sound so filthy yet Leon is having a blast right now. He could imagine himself getting to experience this every night with you by his side. Who could have thought that selfishness could be so rewarding?

With a low grunt, he cums inside of you as he promised. Letting his load fill your insides. He couldn’t hide the satisfied smile that formed on his lips. What a view.

He remains inside of you for a bit longer than needed. You can’t judge him, especially with the way he nuzzles into your neck letting out a yawn. Poor him was worn out. After his first climax, he had already felt that he touched the sky, and now he was in heaven.

After pulling out, he rested his cheek on your shoulder. Part of him wanted to feel you again yet he couldn’t even move an inch. However, it fulfilled him to know that you were going to be right next to him tomorrow, and the day after tomorrow, and for as long as you allow it.

“Thank you.” He whispers.

“We have to change those thank you into I love you.”

Leon was the sweetest guy. However, those thanks still came from a place of skepticism. 

“Sorry…”

He sheepishly said before drifting off to sleep. And, as usual, no nightmare is waiting for him to haunt his dreams.

VI. SERENITY

Attempting to get out of bed on a lazy Saturday morning should be a crime. However, your drowsy state didn’t stop you from reaching the now empty space next to you. The bed still provided you with the scent of the person you loved the most yet he wasn’t there. 

With a groan, you decide to get up from the bed. Your feet meet the cold tiles before you curse from the sudden pain you feel as you step on the remote. You have told Leon countless times that he shouldn’t sleep when he’s watching TV, yet the only response you get is “I’m just resting my eyes.” Therefore, that causes Leon to fall asleep with the remote on his chest which obviously falls throughout the night. 

After a while of inhaling and exhaling deeply from the pain, you make your way out of the room. The scenario that greets you is the same as other days just that Leon was missing in the picture. 

Your steps are slow as sleep is still running in your system, a yawn escapes you while you walk towards the kitchen counter. A note is waiting for you and you deduce it’s from Leon.

“I just went to run some errands, I’ll come back as soon as possible. Love you so so much.” 

His name was written at the bottom of the page next to a happy face that he had drawn. Silly, you thought.

You see that Leon had already prepared you a sandwich before he left. It was cold to the touch, so that means Leon has been gone for a while. He may come any time now. 

Life with him was… surely an adventure. He still goes on missions, leaving you to your own devices for days or even weeks. But they no longer haunt his mind like before. He still needs to be treated with utter care after one, though. Bruises and scars are not the only effects his journeys have on him. 

When he returns from a mission, the once dull and boring apartment welcomes him yet this time, it is full of colors and memories you have made with him. However, it’s not enough for him to completely drop his facade of a tough agent ready to end someone’s life. As you treat his wound, every tiny sound has him jumping on his seat. 

You can’t blame him, it takes a while before he can return to his usual self and be embraced by your warm body that will waste no time to hug him tight. Reminding that he was finally home.

Eventually, after settling down and returning to reality, his personality will shine again. If someone asked you to describe Leon in one word it would be impossible. The man that you chose to spend life with was everything all at once. He was definitely clingy, to begin with. Excuses were his everyday words as he tried to explain why it was completely alright for him to follow you everywhere you went.

At this point, it felt like you had adopted a puppy instead of having a boyfriend. “What’ chu doing?” He would often say as he peeked around the edge of the door frame and watched you from afar If he had a tail it’d be wagging so fast. The tough agent no longer existed in your presence, instead, a man who melted as soon as you hugged him took his place.

Loving, in his language, meant going overboard just for you. If he had to get on his knees and beg for a tiny kiss he’d do it. He’s grown needy to those sweet gestures only you could provide. But he didn’t need to win them. Loving, in your language, meant offering your heart on a platter for him.

God does he love you. You have the man whispering funny names in your ears as you wake up. You unlocked a part of him that he had long forgotten he had, he used to joke when he was nervous — freaking out because he thought he might die on a mission. But now, he invented a plethora of new pet names just to bother you and see you rolling your eyes laughing.

He’s gone through so much, he’s seen so much. Tranquility was the last thing he thought he would be surrounded with. Ever since he was forced to join the military, he made up his mind on the fact that his life would never be the same, Racoon City was his starting point and only his death would stop him from suffering.

Now, as you finally hear the door unlocking you admire how his figure appears. You squint your eyes as you try to pinpoint what’s different in him.

“Hey, you.” Leon walks towards you, closing the gap between you two as he hugs you.

“Hey, you too.” You return the hug, wrapping your arms around his waist.

“Missed me?”

“Not much.” You punch his side, not strong enough to make him jump but rather tell him that you were joking. “Now… On what adventures did you go without me?” 

“I just paid a visit to Adelaide.”

Adelaide, you haven’t forgotten about the old lady that you treated. However, you didn’t expect Leon to remain loyal to his service. And now that he mentions it, you realize what he has done to himself.

His hair has turned lighter. Blonder.

“Did you bleach your hair?” You can’t help but laugh at the thought, he had poor Adelaide working so early on a Saturday morning. But then again, you remember that both of them are workaholics, even though their jobs couldn’t be any more different.

“No, you’re going blind.”

God, he was so dumb.

Eternity used to sound like a cruel fate before. Stuck in a loop that he couldn’t escape from. But now, he will always look for you even in the tiniest details. He’d look for you in the darkness as two flicks of light trying to reach each other. In the universe, as two particles of stardust waiting to create something even bigger — a world for themselves, and a world to live on. 

Because, after all, you reached for him when he had nothing more to offer than his rotten self. You loved him when he couldn’t even love himself.

#leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy fluff #leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy #resident evil

[pervertedreams]

gasp! even MORE farleigh hc’s bc now i’m having writers block and it’s easier to do lil short scenarios <3

asks are open and encouraged feedback is even more encouraging!!

general sexual themes. minors dni obviously

- close talker. close talker. CLOSE TALKER!!! no kinda of personal space really, constantly invading your personal bubble. this goes hand in hand with my crouching and bending over to look at you allegations. sour cigarette breath always flooding your nostrils, sometimes almost so close your noses clunk together. he wants to watch you slowly lean back as he stalks closer to you, wants to watch your eyes strain to look up and maintain eye contact with him. he’s grabbing your hands without warning, pinching your cheeks and sides, sometimes placing his large hands on your hips and swiveling you around for whatever dramatic statement he’s making. like i said fave grabbing and again just overall being very invasive when holding conversation. not that you’re necessarily complaining.

- loves being naked, likes to air himself out. i think he especially enjoys skinny dipping. i don’t have any proof to back this up, it’s comin from the heart. he loves being bare in the water, he’s nearly bare anyways. the only thing holding him back is a unnecessarily expensive pair of swim trunks. and when he takes them off he throws the soiled material at your feet, because he’s a smart ass. we know this !

- i do feel as though he is naturally very quick witted and snarky, but i also believe it’s a defense mechanism. i feel as though it doesn’t take much to soften him even though i believe he’s stubborn, i feel like he’s actually very emotional. but maybe he believes being overly emotional gets you nowhere.

- homeboy loves eating box !! LMAO but no i think he loves giving head, just enjoys getting on his knees and pleasuring somebody. loves that intoxicating musky scent of whoever he’s giving head too, loves having his curls gripped and being manhandled and pushed around. mainly sexually. and he’s looking up at you with swollen heavy lips and glossy brown eyes, eager to make you cum. sometimes that smug, asshole-ish energy is still heavily laced throughout whatever sex he’s having, esp if he’s feeling more dominant. same quick yet dry comments, “now cmon baby you can do better than that.”

- ass slapper IDC. playful or not if you walk by or if it’s in his face at any given moment, he’s taking his opportunity every. time. you’ve gotten tired of swatting him away, there’s usually no winning with farleigh. some things are just set in stone. when you get up, when you walk by, if you’re bent over, skirt on, jeans, underwear, it doesn’t matter. if it’s in his line of vision he’s going for it.

- he snores, not loud or annoying but not necessarily quietly. and he’s a stiff sleeper, however he fell asleep he’s waking up the exact same way. despite the scene with him and oliver i believe he’s a somewhat heavy sleeper. he’s not a dead body but he doesn’t sleep like a fairy either. and def jerks off to playgirl to fall asleep if he’s having a tough time.

- speaking of playgirl he strikes me as the type to have a lil magazine collection, porn and fashion specifically. and yes he has both playboy and playgirl, he’s doesn’t discriminate!

- usually forgets to wrap his hair up at night or just straight up wraps it wrong. but to be fair there’s no one their to teach him any better.

- love language is touch and gift giving idk. like he always has his hands on you one way or another, he’s like a magnet. ringed pinky resting on your outer thigh, subconscious hair stroking, arms always somehow draped around your shoulders, hands always resting on your lower hips. sometimes when you’re too far away when he’s talking he’ll pull you by your belt, face touching, hand holding. he just needs skin to skin, or he’ll decay

- his go to response is always a condescending hum, he hums a lot LOL. with like this smugness in his nod and tone.

- feet swinger

- it’s pierced and has a slight curve, and ALWAYS groomed :)

#feedback is always hot #i liked this one hehe #also ur thoughts would be cool to we can bounce off each other #my work┊ ˚➶ ｡˚ #meanie rich bf ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ #farleigh start headcanon #saltburn farleigh #farleigh catton #farleigh x reader #farleigh saltburn #farleigh smut #farleigh start #saltburn smut #saltburn felix #saltburn #felix catton x reader #felix catton

[hanjsquokka]

Swim - [ Lee Know ]

🎸 SYNOPSIS : After a nasty break-up with your loser ex, you head to your favorite club to let loose, when the bartender catches your eye. He's managed to make you laugh more than you had all week and slowly you find yourself losing focus on his words and more on his veiny hands.

GENRE : smut, strangers to potential lovers

PAIRING : lee know × fem!reader

CONTENT WARNING : smut (warnings under the cut!), cocky minho, mentions of cheating (not between minho and reader), drinking

WORD COUNT : 1.7K

AUTHOR'S NOTE : (Part of my Stray Kids × Chase Atlantic series special for their sixth anniversary). Lee Minho. Where do I even start with this man. I think I started to notice more of him during the Oddinary Era videos (because of his purple hair 🧎‍♀️). I feel like out of all of them, I'm very much similar to him. I like him a lot because of that. Also his cats :( I think seeing him transformed me into a 75% cat person now lmao.

minors dni. if you click read, you agree to nsfw content

SMUT WARNING : hand kink, fingering, unprotected sex (don't be stupid), piv, semi-public sex, use of nicknames (doll, bunny), choking (fem receiving), clothed sex (?), reader drinks a little but no drunk sex, everyone is sober and consenting!

“Three shots of vodka please.” You said as you slid onto the bar stool, eyes on the bartender's back as he nodded and prepared your drink, handing you three shot glasses and leaned against the counter. You adjusted the hem of your short dress once you noticed a guy eyeing you with a hungry gleam in his eyes.

“Rough day?” The bartender asked, watching you down a glass.

“How do you know?” You asked with a chuckle.

“Everyone's out here drinking gin tonics and beers. Call it a hunch, I guess.” He shrugged, making you chuckle and thread your fingers together, watching the man with newfound interest. Brown hair hung over his eyes, the middle part showing a bit of his forehead. His lips were rosy (and very kissable at first impression). His biceps strained against the black button up he was wearing, the sleeves rolled up giving you a perfect view of his veiny arms and hands… Oh god — his hands. “So what's gotten the fine lady in a bad mood?” He asked, his big eyes focused on yours.

You drummed your nails against your glass. “I'll let you guess.”

“Let's see…” He cocked his head to the side, “boss yelled at you? Fired? Friends?” You shook your head. Finally, his eyes light up, “Ah… vodka, hanging out at the bar instead of the floor, your phone's practically a vibrator at this point — broke up with your man?”

“He's an asshole.” You huffed and took another shot, the burning liquid flowing down your throat made you cringe but you welcomed the floating feeling that followed afterwards. You weren't a lightweight, a few vodka shots weren't going to make you dead drunk, but you felt better. “He went out to a party, got wasted and fucked someone — two someone's as per his friend. And then had the fucking audacity to beg for another chance.”

He laughed. “Sounds about right.” A song started to play in the background — most likely by the performing group (3RACHA or something?) of the night since there were cheers all around. He turned around and then back again, placing a glass of ice cold beer in front of you. “On the house. That guy is an asshole. You deserve much better.”

“You don't even know me.”

“Any girl like you deserves better than a cheating bastard.”

You laughed, the smile brightening on your face as you kept talking to the man, who introduced himself as Minho. Minho. You liked that name. You liked your name rolling off his tongue even more when he repeated it after you, saying it again after tending to a few other customers. You stole glances at his hands when you thought he wasn't looking, the prominent veins underneath his smooth skin made your face flush as dirty thoughts clouded your mind.

“Do you stare at everyone's hands, or is it just mine?” The smug smile on his face paired with the glint in his eyes — he knew what you'd been doing. You turned red, trying to stammer some sort of response but it died out once you noticed that he didn't look like… he was bothered by it. “I feel honored.” He leaned forward, fingers pulling out some invisible leaf from your hair as he whispered, “wanna tell me what you were thinking about, doll?”

You gave a very intelligent response. “Uh…”

He smirked, looking away from you to tell one of the other bartenders that he was going to get more glasses from the back before telling you in a low voice, “Wait here for a few minutes and then go through the employees only door in the back.” You couldn't muster an answer before he winked and left.

Your heart was thudding in your chest. Were you actually going to do it? Follow a bartender you met a few hours ago? Something inside you was telling you to go for it. Sure, there was a possibility of you walking straight into a trap, but there were so many times he could've done something to you the whole night and he did nothing but lift your spirits. He'd managed to make you laugh more than you had all week.

You downed your last shot before getting up and going to where he instructed you to. No one batted an eye as you slipped through the clearly labeled employees only door and carefully walked into the dimly lit place that looked to be a janitor's closet when a finger tapped on your shoulder and you were met with Minho's big eyes again.

“Now that we're alone…” The muffled sound of music still played from behind the door, “what were you thinking when you were staring at my hands, hm?” You swallowed, Minho's finger traced your jawline before resting underneath your chin, making you look straight at him.

“W-Well…”

“Words, bunny.”

The nickname turned your ears red. “Y-You might be right…”

“Might?”

“Fine.” There was no going back anymore. “I was thinking… certain things about your hands.”

“Like what?”

“How they'd…” You bit your lip. “How they'd feel inside me… or… around m-my neck.”

“Good bunny.” He smirked. “Can I kiss you now?”

“Please.”

He wasted no time joining his lips with yours, practically devouring you as he pushed against the wall, tongue sliding into your mouth and meeting yours. His hands rested on your waist, squeezing the flesh as he deepened the kiss. Sloppy and messy, things only got more heated as the minutes flew by. He detached from you and instead peppered kisses along your jaw and down your neck. Your palm was flat against his chest, feeling his muscles tensing beneath your skin. He nipped at a spot on your neck that made heat pool between your thighs, an unintelligible sound leaving your mouth.

“Oh, you liked that?” He bit down again in the same spot, hard enough to leave a mark before smoothing over it with his tongue.

“Please…” You whimpered.

“Please what?”

“N-Need you. Your fingers.”

“Where do you need them bunny?” He was teasing you. You could see that. But you had just about enough of it. You took his hand and guided it between your parted legs, right onto your covered crotch. “You're soaking. Just thinking about my hands did this to you?” You nodded. He rubbed your clothed pussy, making your head fall onto his shoulder, the feeling nearly making your knees buckle and he barely even did anything. He pulled his hand away and tapped his finger against your lips, “Suck.”

You wasted no time in doing exactly what he said, wrapping your pink lips around his two fingers and coating them with your saliva. He chuckled, taking them out and slipping off your panties from underneath the short dress you were wearing, rubbing over your folds and your clit. You moaned at the simple touch which made him chuckle. He prodded at your hole before a digit entered inside you and you could've cum from just the feelings. “Oh god…”

He inched his finger inside and slowly began moving it in and out, adding another finger when he heard the sweet, sinful sounds escaping your lips, scissoring you open. “Look at you. Already fucked out from just my fingers. How are you even going to be able to handle my cock, hm?”

“I-I can do it. Want your cock. W-Want you to fill me up, Minho, p-please —” You were cut off by your own whimper as he pressed his thumb against your bundle of nerves. You were clenching around his fingers, almost able to taste your orgasm when he stopped and removed his fingers. You whined at the loss, your climax crumbling away.

“The only way you're cumming —” He undid his belt and pulled his pants down along with boxers so his dick could spring out. “On my cock.” And it was big. Fuck. You drooled at the sight of his thick cock, the leaky mushroom tip and the vein that ran along his length and then his heavy balls — holy shit. “Get on that table for me.” He nudged his head towards the small desk table. You scrambled to get there, laying down on the cold wood, your wet pussy on full display for him. “Such an obedient bunny.” He ran the tip of his dick along your folds, only entering you slowly after you whined for him to just put it in.

And he was big. He just kept going and going until you felt the head brush against your cervix. You felt impossibly full, head swimming in ecstasy. Through your half-lidded eyes, you could see he was struggling to keep his composure, eyebrows taut as he held your hips down. Once you gave him the go ahead, he wasted no time in setting a quick pace. Your moans echoed off the walls. The music from outside was like a background track for the sinful deed you were doing.

The water's getting colder, let me in your ocean, swim.

“Pussy so fucking tight — even after I stretched you out with my fingers —” Minho grunted, angling his hips so that he was hitting that spot inside you that made you see white with every thrust. You were babbling incoherently, much to his amusement. “Did I fuck my bunny dumb already?” One of his free hands reached up and wrapped around your throat. You opened your eyes again, the sight of his veiny arms making you clench impossibly tighter. He let out a groan, squeezing your neck to restrict your breathing a little.

You could feel your orgasm approaching again, your moans turned into high pitched whimpers, his name leaving your mouth like a mantra as you convulsed, cumming around his cock, milking him dry. He let put a string of curses as his thrusts turned sloppy and uncoordinated before he came inside you, fucking his seed into you until he was spent and slowed down.

The two of you were silent, panting to catch your breath.

“Block your loser ex. I'm the one who's going to make you feel like this. With my mouth. With my fingers. And with my dick. Over and over again.”

©hanjsquokka | copying, translating or republishing my work is strictly prohibited

#Spotify #k-labels #stray kids #skz #stray kids smut #skz smut #lee know #lee know smut #lee know x reader #stray kids x reader #skz x reader #lee know hard thoughts #lee know hard hours

[taevbears]

To Be Loved - 01

Here's where she meets prince charming.

⤑ pairing: namjoon x reader ⤑ genre: hybrid au, romance, hurt/comfort ⤑ rating: 18+ ⤑ word count: 5.2k ⤑ warnings: DEPICTIONS OF READER IN A TOXIC RELATIONSHIP (i.e, manipulation, domestic/verbal abuse, threats, degradation, violence toward reader), bullying toward reader, the "gaston" character is a straight-up asshole lmao, hyrbids are treated as second-class humans, description of bodily harm, sexual harassments, minor violence, based off 2013 namjoon in this chapter lol. please be mindful of the warnings!!⤑ note: happy birthday, namjoon!! while i was taking a break from magic shop, i've been working on a couple other projects and i finally finished one. it's truly a coincidence that i completed this story today lol. this story is loosely based off beauty & the beast but with hybrids.

Chapters: 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 (End)

It was a dark and stormy night.

Flickering fluorescent lights. The heat of the jeering crowd. Grey concrete in the old warehouse. Speakers reverberating a deep bass that fills the room. Thunder is drowned out as two amateur rappers spit lines on the small stage, eliciting reactions from the audience before them.

One of the contestant’s attention drifts to the crowd until he makes eye contact with you. It seems like he was looking for you. The moment you raise your hand to offer a tiny, half-hearted wave, the corners of his lips tug to a haughty smirk. Then, with the microphone to his lips, he puffs out his chest, turns back to his opponent, and begins rapping.

You’re less than impressed when he finishes his turn and is declared the winner of the round.

To be fair, however, this isn’t your scene. It’s too loud. Too rowdy.

If it were up to you, you’d be at home. Safe and cozy in your warm bed, curled up to a good book or movie. Initially, you didn’t even want to come, complaining that the weather is awful, the venue is too small, the floors are sticky, and that there are too many people.

But he insisted that you come tonight. For him.

One of his friends has her arm linked with yours, anchoring you to her. Her eyes are bright with excitement as she screams in your ear, “Fighting! Kangdae!”

The one you’re all here to see stands on the stage, relishing in the audience’s attention. There’s a smug look on his face when he meets your gaze, as if checking to see if you’re just as impressed with his performance as the rest of the audience is.

Politely, you clap your hands, not quite sure what the etiquette for these types of things are.

The host continues to rile up the crowd, daring any of the other contestants to step forward and challenge Kangdae.

No one does.

Except for one.

Silence follows as a lanky, tall contestant comes onstage. One that no one has heard from yet. Sunglasses cover his eyes, but you can make out some of his predominant features: his full lips, the deep dimples in his shy smile, his tanned skin.

“Okay, kid,” the host says, intrigued. “Show us what you got.”

The kid is handed a mic. Kangdae looks him up and down and scoffs.

The difference between the two is telling. 

Kangdae lives for the attention, wildly gesturing and getting into his opponent’s face. He encourages the crowd to cheer him on like that. Their hoots and hollering pumps the adrenaline in his veins as he verbally attacks the guy ballsy enough to challenge him.

His opponent, to your surprise, stands quietly as he’s thrown insult after insult. Then, when it’s his turn, the room falls in awe. His flow makes him sound professional, even though he sounds quite young. You’re impressed with his wordplay, how he keeps up with the rhythm, how he delivers the lines.

He’s by far your favorite of all the ones you’ve heard tonight.

There’s a clear winner after the boy with sunglasses is done, though rather than shove his victory at his opponent’s face, he holds out his hand to Kangdae and offers a dimpled smile.

Rap Monster.

That’s what they call him.

And as Kangdae bitterly shakes his hand, stunned at the turn of events, you’re beginning to see why they call him that.

In your small, provincial town, Kangdae has it all. He’s a handsome young man, athletic and popular. His family is well-off; so much so that he can indulge in expensive clothing brands, own the newest models and gadgets, and party every weekend at some bougie club or resort. Guys look up to him. Girls are in love with him. He lives off the attention and praise from his big circle of friends.

And yet, for whatever shallow reason, he seems fixated on you.

Unlike Kangdae, you hate being in the spotlight. It makes you shy. It makes you feel nervous. You tend to keep to yourself because of that, reading books or watching animal videos on your phone. You feel like you hardly have any friends in the town.

Then, one day, seemingly out of nowhere, Kangdae declares he wants you to be his girl.

And suddenly, you’re on everybody’s radar.

Why would someone so brilliant and outgoing even be interested in a boring and quiet person like you? 

That’s a question even you often wonder.

Finding the answers to that, however, becomes unwarranted.

People start to talk to you. People you’ve never spoken to before suddenly act friendly toward you. People who’ve never spared you a glance suddenly want to know all your dirty secrets. People who don’t even know you begin to spread rumors.

“The whole town already knows you’re my girl,” Kangdae tells you one day, while you’re sitting on the steps of your house, eyes red from tears of a recent bullying incident. He doesn’t seem to care about that though. In fact, you’re certain he’s even laughed about it at your expense. “Why don’t we just make it official? You’re not dating anyone, are you?”

“Are you even attracted to me?” you ask him seriously.

He shrugs. “Yeah, you’re hot. I heard quiet girls can get quite freaky too.”

“No way,” you cut in, repulsed by his insinuation. You stand on your feet, turning to go inside. “I’ll never–”

Before you could open the door, you’re suddenly shoved against it. Kangdae towers over you, anger burning in his eyes. He’s never been rejected. He always gets his way. 

It’s something you learn the hard way.

“Then I’ll make sure your life continues to be a living hell,” he threatens before he releases you.

More than before, unwanted attention is thrown at you. As soon as you enter the classroom, people stare and sneer. You hear them whisper about you in the hallways. You’re confronted in small groups. Accusations that you think you’re too good to be dating someone like Kangdae. How there must be something wrong with you.

In the eyes of many, Kangdae is perfect. Objectively handsome. Popular among his peers. Comes from money. All the guys you know want to be him. All the girls you know want to be with him. What makes a nobody like you think that you can do better?

You hardly had any friends in the town, but not once have you ever felt this isolated. You’ve never felt this singled-out. It feels like the whole world is against you.

You can’t take it.

“Kangdae,” you call out to him, stopping as he’s about to head to the field. He’s dressed in his sports uniform, about to go into a match against another school. “One date.”

A Cheshire smile spreads across his face. “I knew you wouldn’t resist, babe.”

You try not to cringe when he plants a wet kiss on your cheek.

Maybe you’re naïve. But maybe that’s why Kangdae is after you.

You’re quiet, soft-spoken, and incredibly shy. You don’t have a lot of friends, and you haven’t had a serious relationship before him. You don’t know anything about what love really is. Yet, despite what an odd loner you are, you’re a beautiful girl. Innocent and loyal to a fault. An easy target for Kangdae to walk all over. 

With his hand around your waist, you feel like an accessory. Before you ever considered dating him, he already declared you as his girlfriend, telling even strangers that he passed by that you would one day be his.

“Right from the moment I saw you, I think I fell in love,” he admits on your first date, taking you to a nice, upscale restaurant. It’s different from anything you’ve experienced in your small town. The menu items are so expensive, it doesn't list pricing, and each course that is presented at your table is like a work of art.

What’s most interesting about this restaurant, however, isn’t just the food. But the staff.

Gorgeous women in white blouses and black skirts that show off their voluptuous curves and long legs. Poking at the back of the skirts are tails. And on their heads are pairs of animal ears. Some of them have stripes or spots on their skin, some have nails as sharp as claws, and some have unique eyes like cats and reptiles. 

Hybrids.

Neither human, nor animal. But something in-between.

In your town, coming across them is rare but not unheard of. They usually dwell in the cities, where sanctuaries housing them are. Some are adopted into families or are hired to do difficult and dirty work with an employer willing to work with them. But most aren’t as lucky, and are treated as sub-human. Worse than how some people care for their beloved cat or dog.

“What makes you say that?” you ask Kangdae as a bunny hybrid brings out the next course. She, like the other hybrids, is quite beautiful.

“Because you’re gorgeous,” he simply states as he sips on some liquor. Then, suddenly, he smacks the hybrid’s ass. “Hey, isn’t my girlfriend gorgeous?”

“Kangdae!” 

“Yes, sir,” the hybrid quickly answers before practically running away from the table. You feel awful, but Kangdae cackles as if it’s the most entertaining thing he’s seen all evening.

“Babe, don’t be mad. She’s just a hybrid.”

One date turns into another. He showers you with expensive gifts, and takes you out to luxurious places. Sometimes, it’s nice. You never imagined you’d be leaning against the railing of a yacht, feeling the salt air against your skin as the boat cruises through deep blue waters. Or fine dining at rooftop restaurants in the big cities with a breathtaking view of the skylines.

You find yourself watching underground rap contests, and witnessing the skill and poetry of a particular contestant that caught your attention once. A tall boy with a thick pair of sunglasses and a dimpled smile.

Other times, it can feel overwhelming. Like you’re undeserving all the things that he bombards you with, and you owe it to him for one more date. One more party he wants you to come with him too. One more ‘this is the last time’ before he asks you again.

He introduces you to his friends, showing you off to them despite how out of place you feel among them. He texts and calls you all the time, wanting to know where you are and who you’re with, and letting you know that he’s thinking about you in persistent, long messages. He posts about you on his social media, calling you his girl, as engagements of likes, views, and comments fill underneath it.

People tell you all the time that you’re lucky though.

Of all the girls he could’ve been with, he picked you. Someone handsome, rich, and popular fell in love at first sight with a boring, quiet, lonely girl like you.

And maybe that’s why you stay. Who else would love you if not him?

Next week, you find yourself in the same, abandoned warehouse. Another night, another show. Another chance for Kangdae to redeem himself.

One thing about him is that he hates to lose. His pride just wouldn’t allow it.

Yet, once again, he doesn’t stand a chance.

This time, Rap Monster seems to be the crowd favorite. Everyone cheers for him once he steps onstage, wearing the same dark sunglasses over his eyes. He seems a bit more confident as he raps, his flow and rhythm even better than last week.

You feel like a fan as you and your group stand close to the stage. Although you’re supposed to be there for Kangdae, you can’t help but cheer his opponent on. Your heart jumps when you see Rap Monster catch your eye and give you a dimpled smile, bowing like a prince when he ends his round.

A shift can be felt once it’s Kangdae’s turn with the mic. People in your group and some of the audience make some noise, but the majority of strangers in the crowd are merely nodding along or quietly listening. 

Until the first heckle comes. Followed by someone else yelling at him to get off the stage.

Mean laughter fills the room, and you almost feel bad for Kangdae.

Had it not been for what he does next.

Gasps and exclamations of shock are followed when he suddenly punches Rap Monster.

“Hey, no! You can’t do that shit!” the host yells as the security guards make haste to handle the situation. They pull Kangdae away, trying to de-escalate, but it’s too late. The crowd gets riled up, shouting and egging him on. Two men have to hold Kangdae down, but he’s strong. He nearly manages to break free and get to Rap Monster’s face a couple times. Rap Monster’s sunglasses are knocked off, and he’s holding his face with one hand, covering an eye.

Because when he opens the other one… it looks strange.

It doesn’t look human.

A couple people up front scream in terror as they point at him. “A monster!”

“He’s one of them!” another shouts in disgust. “He’s a hybrid!”

Suddenly, the room seems to quiet down as they all look at him, stunned, horrified, disgusted. You could see him trying to hide his face as the host snaps at him, “This event is for humans only!”

The sunglasses have fallen near you, and without thinking, you quickly grab them and climb onto the stage. You don’t know what’s gotten over you. You hate attention. You hate being in the spotlight. You’re often shy and insecure, and always stay in your lane.

But you have to help.

“Here,” you tell him gently, pushing the broken sunglasses toward his hand. Up this close, you feel so small standing next to him. “You should get out of here.” 

He nods his head and takes them from you, seeming grateful and a little scared. His eyes look reptilian like a serpent, but they’re pretty. You feel like you can’t forget them.

In the innermost area of the iris, near his slightly vertical pupil, is a hint of warm brown, but the rest is a mix of deep blue and purple. The color of indigo. 

“Get away from her, you beast,” Kangdae commands, but Rap Monster is already walking away from the stage. Away from you.

Somehow, the rain outside seems to pour harder as he leaves.

It’s been years since that night.

Kangdae seemed over it, wanting to chase his fifteen minutes of fame elsewhere. And while you were interested in one of the rappers, you aren’t keen enough to keep going back. It isn’t like that Rap Monster would be welcomed at the future showings anyway.

However, you start listening to hip-hop music more than other genres these days. Secretly hoping that, if you’re to meet him again, maybe the two of you could talk about some of the artists you like. Books that you’ve read, movies you’ve seen.

But you haven’t seen him since.

You end up working for Kangdae’s family. In such a small, provincial town, there isn’t much of an option. His family seems to own and have connections to everything.

To the point where even your family tells you how lucky you are. Kangdae is a catch. Marrying him would guarantee a well-off life with someone objectively handsome, who thinks you’re the most beautiful woman in town, who you’d be out of your mind to leave or break things off with.

Although your father and your siblings mean well, you could only nod in defeat. You can’t bear to tell them how miserable you are with Kangdae.

The same man who tells you you’re the one for him, but flirts with other women in front of you. Who gets angry over little things and takes it out on you, screaming at your face, throwing things that nearly hit you, punching holes in walls and doors, or leaving you confused and worried for days without a word until he finally decides to come back. He’d shower you with expensive gifts and affection to make up for it, but his sweeter side never stays long before the cycle repeats.

And you can’t seem to find your way out of it.

The constant pressure to be with Kangdae has you wishing you could just disappear from the town.  To run away from it all and never go back.

But you’re a coward, and you don’t know where else to go. Everyone in town likes Kangdae, and even your family wouldn’t believe what a monster he really is.

In the apartment you share with him, it’s dark and empty. Empty bottles of soju and beer are on the coffee table, dirty dishes are in the sink for you to clean, there’s still a gaping hole in the pantry from an argument a couple weeks ago that hasn’t been fixed. But Kangdae’s shoes aren’t by the door, and you don’t imagine he’d be back anytime soon.

With a quiet, defeated sigh, you take off your shoes and your coat, place your purse down, and begin cleaning up the mess. You go through the motions of it, exhausted from work, from having more to do once you get home, and as you gather the bottles, you see that he’s placed some on top of a book.

A fairy tale story about a far-off place, daring sword fights, and a prince in disguise.

It’s your favorite. The local librarian gave it to you as a gift, and Kangdae is using it as a coaster. And one of the half-empty bottles has spilled over, soaking through the pages.

Angry, you drop the bag on the ground, letting the bottles clatter against each other, and pick up the book, trying to salvage the ruined cover. But rings of liquid stain the front, and the pages are wrinkled from the liquid, blurring the texts so they’re unreadable.

Even before, the book is already a bit worn-out when it was gifted to you, but it still makes you want to cry. Kangdae doesn’t seem to care about you at all anymore.

How much longer are you going to put up with this? Shouldn’t you deserve your own happiness? Shouldn’t you deserve to be loved? 

You have to leave him. You don’t know when. You don’t know how. But you have to. 

That much you know.

Your plans are foiled by a single question.

“Will you marry me?”

Horror strikes your face. Down on one knee before you is Kangdae with a beautiful diamond ring. You could feel every person in the room staring at you, waiting for an answer. All his friends, your family, and even random strangers at the venue are gathered unexpectedly and witnessing his proposal. Wide smiles and excited looks surround you, as if they already know you’ll say yes.

Do you want to say yes?

Are you going to tell him no? In front of all these people?

“Kangdae, I—” you start to say, your voice trembling. You could feel the pressure weighed upon you, setting you close to a panic.

Your boyfriend doesn’t notice how uncomfortable you are. He’s busy flashing a bright, charming smile at the anticipating crowd for his big moment. His smile starts to falter when you take too long to respond.

Behind the smile, you could almost sense it. The heat of his anger.

You have to say something. You have to decide.

You have to tell him no.

“I…” you begin again. Your gaze catches Kangdae’s family, and how they nod their head, encouraging you to continue. Your voice is very soft and almost defeated when you say, “Okay.”

“Yes? You’re saying yes?” Kangdae exclaims loudly as the people around cheer and clap. You even see some girls start to burst into tears. Girls you know Kangdae frequently talk to. Your family seems relieved, worried that you’d reject him, that you’d shame and humiliate them with your refusal.

But it’s when you look at Kangdae’s family where your blood runs cold. They whisper to each other and nod, gauging the reaction of those witnessing the proposal. It feels like they’re in a business merger, and it occurs to you that maybe, to them, it is one.

You feel numb as Kangdae pulls you into a kiss and a tight embrace.

You’re engaged now.

And it makes you want to throw up.

“Come on, don’t be like that,” Kangdae whines, trying to pull you closer to him. “Why are you upset? We’re engaged now!”

“Is it because you want to marry me? Or because your family made you?”

He scoffs. “What are you saying?”

It’s been years since the two of you have been together. Years of you being compliant, years of you arguing behind closed doors, of you silently suffering and hoping that things will get better. That, perhaps, one day you could convince yourself that he’ll change his ways. That he'll love you.

Perhaps in front of your family and friends, the two of you act like a happy couple.

You’re the girlfriend he brags about. Arm candy that he can show off because you’re the prettiest girl in town. Someone that his parents approve of, and often question when he’ll pop the question to you. A question, you suspect, puts his inheritance on the line if he hadn’t proposed so soon.

“Kangdae, do you even love me?”

Kangdae laughs. It’s a dark, biting chuckle that makes your skin crawl. “For a pretty girl, you sure say a lot of stupid shit. What kind of fucking question is that?”

Your mouth snaps shut. Until he snaps at you to answer him. “Kangdae, I…”

“Didn’t I propose to you? What more do you want, huh?”

“I’m sorry—”

“Don’t you realize how lucky you are to be with a guy like me? I spent so much money on you! I buy you nice things. I take you to beautiful places. I’ve helped you get a job at my parents’ company. I’ve bought you a home. And this is how you repay me?”

“Kangdae, please, just hear me out,” you plead, but the guilt and fear are already eating at you. It’s true that he’s provided you with so much. Are you being foolish? Ungrateful?

“Don’t forget, stupid bitch,” he threatens, his voice low as he grabs your face, squeezing your cheeks with his grip. “You will be my wife. You’re nothing without me. I will make your life a living hell. If you think this is the worst, then you’ve seen nothing yet.”

He storms out. 

And as the door slams shut, you slowly sink to the floor, trembling as his words of a very bleak future run through your head. Crying in misery and frustration that you, once again, couldn’t stand up for yourself. That you still feel too scared to just leave him and all you know behind. That his anger and selfishness will continue to wear you down.

That, soon, you’ll be married to a monster.

It’s after a long day at work when you see Kangdae again. However, he isn’t alone.

“What’s going on? What is this?”

You frown at the sight before you. Kangdae is on the couch, and kneeling by his feet and wrapped in a ribbon is a young man.

No, a hybrid. A bunny hybrid.

He’s very muscular, with bruises and scratches covering his golden skin. His hair is dark, matching the long, black ears on his head. And his eyes are big, round, and full of fear as he stares back at you.

“Don’t you like him? Watched him in a fight last night. He’s pretty tough for a bunny, but lost in the final round. His owner was pissed! Nearly knocked him out himself!” Kangdae cackles with laughter, seeming to have found it amusing. "But babe, remember our first date? Remember those hybrid servers you kept staring at?”

“Yes,” you reply with a frown, not really sure what he’s getting at. What do they have to do with the bunny hybrid currently in your living room?

“I convinced the owner to let me borrow his hybrid for the night. As an apology gift,” he states with a proud smile. “Had to fork up a lot of money, but the guy wasn’t too pleased about his prized fighter losing the match anyway.”

“I-I’m not… he’s…” You’re at a loss of words. How could he explain this to you so casually?

“I wanted to make it up to you, babe. Girls dig shit like this, right? Owner kept bragging on and on about how obedient he is and how much stamina he has.” Kangdae can see you’re not into the idea and comes up to you, touching your arm. “I don’t mind. I’d love to watch. Hell, I might even invite the girls over to give him a try.”

“Stop. You’re disgusting.”

How could he think you’d be okay with this? How could anyone?

Hybrids often get treated like pets, but they’re still human. 

“Ungrateful cunt. Can't you see I’m trying to do something nice for you?!” Kangdae roars, and you feel the sting on your face before it registers what happened. He just slapped you.

You’re still in shock and a bit of pain as he grabs his car keys and a jacket. You cradle your cheek as you numbly ask, “Where are you going?”

“I’m going for a drink. Don’t wait up for me.” He slams the door on his way out. You blink back the tears as a deafening silence follows the roar of his engine, the squeals of his tires as he takes off.

Is this all your fault again? Are you being ungrateful?

No, no. Kangdae is the one taking things too far. And you’re so fed up with it.

You've always been afraid to speak up for yourself. You’ve always been a coward, and wanted to play things safe. You’ve always let him walk all over you. You could never save yourself from such a miserable situation.

You’re so preoccupied with your thoughts, you almost forgot you aren’t alone. The sound of rustling catches your attention, and you see the bunny hybrid trying to unravel himself from the ribbon binding him.

“I can help you,” you offer, and he flinches at your voice. You soften your tone and try again. “Would you let me? I promise, I won’t hurt you.”

He thinks about it for a moment, glancing at you with suspicion and weariness. But he nods his head. Despite how bruised up he is, he probably figures he could overpower you if you really intended to harm him.

The two of you are silent as you untie the long ribbon from his wrists and slip it off his torso. But being this close to him also gives you a good view on all the cuts and sores he received from the fight.

Your heart sinks for him. Not only is it highly illegal, but this one is a prey. They’re not supposed to fight in the first place.

“Wait here,” you tell him once he’s free from the bondage. He rubs his wrist, but continues to sit on the floor. Nothing is really stopping him from leaving on his own, so you hurry to find a first-aid kit.

When you return to the living room, the bunny hybrid is still there. He hasn’t moved an inch from his spot. He eyes the little box in your hands, seeming to recognize it.

“I think this should help with some of your wounds. Is it okay if I help you with this too?”

This time, he nods his head more eagerly.

Again, a silence falls between you two. But it isn’t uncomfortable. In fact, it’s been a while since you’ve been in the presence of someone else and the silence felt natural. Every now and then, you’d give him a head’s up about the sting of a topical spray or ask him if the bandage you’re wrapping around him is too tight. And he watches you the whole time, nodding and shaking his head when prompted, seeming used to this. You wonder how often he has to treat his own wounds after being thrown in battle.

The silence is cut when his stomach growls loudly. He looks incredibly embarrassed as you offer a small smile. “I have some food in the fridge if you’re hungry. Let me just finish doing this.”

It doesn’t take too much time at all to treat his wounds and wrap fresh bandages on his injuries. You’ve only encountered hybrids a couple times, so you’re not entirely sure what he’d like to eat. You assume fruits and vegetables, but would that be enough?

You start to pull them out and you’re startled when you see the hybrid standing over your shoulder. You see him eyeing a jar of kimchi and take that out as well.

“Does kimchi fried rice sound good to you?” you ask him, and he nods his head more excitedly. His eyes look brighter too, as if you guessed exactly what he’s craving.

Endeared, you begin to get to work. You pull out the leftover rice, sauces, and the ingredients needed to cook it. The hybrid watches as you chop the vegetables and first cook out the onions before adding in the other vegetables and rice. In another pan, you fry a couple eggs to serve over the rice, and sprinkle some toppings of sesame seeds, nori, and sliced green onion. You ransack your fridge for some side dishes you could pair it with, serving some yellow pickled radishes, pickled cucumbers, and seaweed salad in small bowls.

The hybrid watches with big, round eyes and a jittering leg as you set the food before him. You tell him to eat and you barely take a bite of your own dish before he picks up his bowl and devours it like he hasn’t eaten in days. His brows are furrowed and he starts huffing, but he’s quick to grab the side dish closest to him and cleans that as well.

“Is it good?” you ask him tentatively. 

He gives a brief nod, mouth too full to answer, and fills his bowl with seconds.

“I’m glad. I would’ve made more if I had known you’d be this hungry,” you tell him, heart full just seeing him eat well.

You can’t help but feel sorry for him. You can’t imagine what he’s been through, and you don’t want him to be sent back to his owner. You don’t want him to be put in another dangerous and exploiting situation.

“I’m sorry about him. That guy that was here earlier,” you begin. You’ve barely eaten, but you push your share toward him. “He’s not a nice person.”

The bowl he takes from you covers his face, but his ears twitch toward you. They show that he’s listening to you.

“Your owner isn’t a nice person either, huh?”

The hybrid freezes at the mention of his owner. He lowers the bowl a little and he looks terrified. For the first time, he speaks to you. His word is barely a whisper. “Don’t…”

This time, your eyes widen. “What?”

“Please…” he begs, putting the bowl down. Grains of rice stick around his mouth as he looks at you with pleading eyes. “Please don’t let me go back to him. Please help me.”

Thank you for reading ♡ Comments & reviews are greatly appreciated!

Masterlist | Next

#to be loved #namjoon x reader #bts hybrid au #bts hybrid fic #bts hybrid x reader #hybrid namjoon #hybrid bts

[mythbringer-mayhem]

GODDAMNIT

man, I was just scrolling and now I'm a goddamn Raidioapple shipper what the FUCK

Ok ok-

And now I'm going to elaborate just because.

I was expecting someone out there to ship Lucifer and Alastor the second I heard Hell's Greatest Dad. I mean- two people singing/arguing over being father figures? Sounds gay to me /pos. The internet sure does love it's enemies to lovers (me included. I'm hopless lmao.)

BUT. I have specifics for this ship.

I hate it when people just look at Alastor's aromanticism/asexuallity and just go "nah. I'm just gonna do it anyways." I used to headcanon Alastor as complete aroace in the sense that he just can't feel that way for someone (this is not meant to sound like "oh he can't love anyone :( he's incapable" I mean specifically a romantic/sexual relationship.) Then fucking short ass king of hell arrives, and Alastor just IMMEDIATELY chooses violence.

I didn't think much of that besides "oh that's a little interesting," and then I stumbled across Radioapple and had to take a double take. My brain needed to figure out how that would work, like how it would start, flourish, ineract, yadda yadda-

.....so now I consider Alastor Demiromantic-

(I'm still goddamn writing jeez-)

Read on if you like random people looking wayyyyyy too much into fictional characters.

Headcanon timeeeeeeeee

When Lucifer and Alastor first meet, Alastor is surprised Lucifer doesn't know who he is. Up to this point, everyone knows about the terrifying radio demon, so it must be a little weird for someone to be completely ignorant to his existence. Especially when that person should probably know the ins and outs of what's going on- ....because he's the fucking king of hell.

This is something new for Alastor. It made him curious. When you're curious, you try to learn more right? So, Alastor starts pushing Lucifer's buttons, seeing how he reacts. On Lucifer's end, Alastor's just being a smug asshole. However his true intentions are information on the esteemed oh-so-powerful king of hell. Maybe Alastor doesn't quite know where this fascination comes from, but regardless he wants to learn more. I can picture him progressively bothering Lucifer more and more (this is his unique way of getting to know him semi-discreetly)

As well as figuring out what ticks him off, Alastor would also probably passively learn things Lucifer likes. For instance, he finds out what Lucifer's favorite alcoholic drink is or something- bare with me- Let’s say Lucifer has a rough day, and it's very clear to everyone in the hotel. While he's frustrated in his own room, he hears a knock at the door. Answering it, he finds his aforementioned favorite drink. At this point, he wouldn't know who left it. But after a while, he'd be able to figure out it's Alastor through process of elimination. (This is inspired by a comic I saw! :))

Now we've got Alastor trying to discreetly be kind to Lucifer, and Lucifer is aware without his knowledge. And Lucifer would call him out for it lmao. Slowly, they'd start acting friendlier towards each other. It would take a long, long time though. The slowest slow burn of them all. They'd hang out more, do things, kick angel ass, have friendly banter, do stuff with Charlie. Untill Alastor finally realizes that he might have a crush on Lucifer. Though, I feel he'd take a while to fully figure that out, do some soul searching, maybe go to Rosie for advice.

Then they'd confess. Or they wouldn't lol. I can totally see them going on what is essentially a date, even though they just consider it "hanging out". It would be a quiet relationship. Something you'd miss if you aren't looking for it, but it is there. They both just need someone they can rest with in my opinion.

These ideas are probably sporadic and nonsensical- but I ✨️don't care✨️ I just needed to rant about the old timey deer man and the short depressed apple gremlin.

#hazbin hotel #alastor #hazbin alastor #lucifer #hazbin lucifer #radioapple #shipping #rant post #headcanon #hazbin hotel headcanon #hazbin hotel ship #Lucifer would have to use a box to give Alastor a kiss on the cheek. #Hazbin hotel show #hazbin hotel spoilers #That or Alastor would just pick him up and tease him about it #asexual #aromantic #aroace #arospec #aroace alastor #aroace character #lgbtq #lgbtqia #lgbtq community #queer headcanons #character dynamics

[keiicom]

Yjh things the Webtoon 'forgot' to mention or to point out bc they hate novel yjh

Warning for vague webtoon spoilers ig?? No spoilery names are named and no unreleased scenarios are mentioned/specified btw but I thought I'd add this warning just in case :)

He waited three days on the bridge for kdj to resurface after he dropped him in the Ichytosaurs mouth. Just. Waited there.

He smiles when Kdj tries his food and says it's good (it's more like a tiny smug smile tbh)

He is a WORRIER. Man worries about everything, but sucks at expressing it through actions bc that's when he's most easily misunderstood. It is EXTREMELY easy to misunderstand his actions unless the other characters ask him what he's doing and why [after he explains, he turns out to be actually really thoughtful tbh]

When he tells 41st round shin yoosung to "quit her blabbering"...he wasn't that harsh in the novel. The line was changed (still don't know why) but originally he said something about not having enough time, and wasn't a complete asshole.

Also during that same arc/scene it was revealed that he woke her up because he genuinely didn't think she'd attack him/be mad at him iirc, so it wasn't him being stupid, just somewhat naive

When Iris called KDJ ugly he actually stepped forward and intimidated her by glaring so she'd stop talking :) because he sensed fighting spirit in her and he decided to react lmao

His eyebrow moves similarly to a caterpillar when he's about to make an important decision (note: kdj points this out in the novel because he's always staring at yjh I swear to god there's proof)

Yjh puts on a 'cool' face when he's been caught or called out after trying to be sneaky (he's SO BAD at being sneaky istg I love this man so much)

He sometimes uses his skills for stupid and petty shit *said lovingly with heart eyes*

He's more likely to give someone/an NPC a quick death than to make them suffer until they die

He always goes along with KDJ's plans, even though Kdj barely tells him ANYTHING about them ever 😭 He glares but still goes along with them I NEED Y'ALL TO UNDERSTAND HOW IMPORTANT THIS IS- /lh

He drags his sword on the ground when he's happy/satisfied with something, or generally in a good mood. Also Loves to clean his sword (I think the webtoon added a scene of him cleaning the sword like. once)

He loves his sister more than anything (we haven't seen a lot of scenes with yoo mia AND yjh in the webtoon yet but I have high expectations for those knowing how much he adores her in the novel)

Mans RUNS to help every time kdj is in danger, unless he genuinely thinks kdj 1) can handle the situation himself or 2) deserves the punishment

He has MONOLOGUES in his head even though he only ever says like two sentences thakrhsjfjb, and is very eloquent when given the chance to explain his thought process/reasoning

[which kdj rarely lets him do. bc he's hellbent on doing the talking and most other characters don't expect yjh to talk anyway]

The hand holding scene that was turned into a weird wrist holding scene? Yes originally they held hands (he wasn't as angry then either)

He's a serial texter and will spam message people

He loves dumplings

He gets jealous when other people monopolize Dokja's attention for too long (also canon, ex: Sangah, [redacted 1], sometimes han sooyoung, [redacted 2], [redacted 3] 💀 and WILL glare at Kdj or demand answers depending on how severe the transgression is)

He's tired. So, so tired.

HE CAN LAUGH

he doesn't let Han Sooyoung live out of pride/not wanting to lose to kdj (???? what even was that). he lets her live because he doesn't want kdj to think poorly of him / alternatively he doesn't want to lose him as an ally. Not everything is about pride with him 🫠

he looks embarrassed after hearing yoo mia tell him he looks "happy when you talk about [kdj]". the narration also gives her statement some credibility, because "she knows him well since she's his sister". but of course they made him look angry instead of embarrassed 🙄 bc god forbid he shows any other facial expression ever

He's nosy (again: said lovingly with heart eyes). You'll notice how even when he pretends not to care, he'll still stick around to see how things develop/gather info on 'important' stuff. If he's not interested, he'll just leave, bc he's the kind of guy to just do that. So if he doesn't leave, even if he's pretending not to care... you see where I'm going with this

He has a sense of humor, believe it or not (though most of the time he's hilarious without meaning to)

When [redacted] asked yoo joonghyuk what his deal was with kdj and why he wanted him in his group he said "kdj is necessary for this world. I need him." but webtoon decided to skip that line 🫠

Yjh says "I guess your mother doesn't like me" instead of this "like mother like son" bullshit, because the second one implies dokja doesn't like him. which couldn't be farther from the truth

I'd add more but the rest is spoilers fhajhrjeka so yeah I'll just wait to see what webtoon does first and I'll update this as they go

#writing about orv is hard because after reading so many fanfics I no longer can tell what's canon and whats not 😭 #i think I finally got all the canon differences with the webtoon though #but y'all feel free to correct me if something's wrong #orv #omniscient reader #omniscient reader's viewpoint #when did this turn into an “all the things I love about yjh” post 💀 #I was NOT gonna wait until the dark castle arc to talk about how yjh actually has feelings alright 😭 I'm sorry I'm not that strong

[doukeshi-kun]

I've been fantasizing about kolya's hands so much

I want him to choke me, spank me, slap me, insert his fingers into my mouth, pinch me, poke me RAHHH

𝙣𝙞𝙠𝙤𝙡𝙖𝙞 + 𝙥𝙡𝙖𝙮𝙛𝙪𝙡 𝙝𝙖𝙣𝙙𝙨

replies ⨳ here to complete your fantasy

notes ⨳ i don't do/open request. i just write what i wanna write out of impulse lmao

contents ⨳ just rough playful stuff, gn!reader, nikolai is a meanie, nikolai here is also stalker!nikolai btw

“If you scream, I might have to be rougher, sweetheart. Or is that what you like?” he asks softly as his hand is around your neck, tightening for each breath you take. You gasp, holding his forearm, looking up at him as you are beneath him.

“F-Fuck you…” you snarl between the difficulties. Nikolai laughs as his hand is choking you hard while his other hand is poking your stomach, tickling you. “A-Ah!” your body contorts.

“Not nice, sugar. You're angry at me, but why are you leaving the window open, knowing I would sneak in?” a pinch on your skin. “Naughty, naughty one. Freaky little one is too shy to admit,” he teases with a grin as he turns your head to the side, kissing your cheek.

“An open w-window is n-not an i-invitation,” you are struggling to speak. Your hand reaches up and suddenly, you slap his face hard, “Asshole,”

Nikolai's head is turned to the side but he is just chuckling with a smug smile. He releases your neck and then he returns a mild slap on your cheek before he seizes your face.

“Mmh— A-aah…” you whimper, thighs tighten around his body.

“‘f course you like it rough,” he mocks as his thumb rubs your lips and slips in—instinctively, you suck his finger as your teary eyes gaze up at him. Your tongue is twirling around his thumb and Nikolai groans lowly, cackling as he lowers his hips, grinding lightly against your crotch—indeed, you can feel his boner.

“Fuck, you're the death of me, little dove,” he breathes in frustration before his other hand lands a couple of spanks on your thigh. “Off.”

And while driving his thumb deeper, only for you to suck it and drool it with saliva, your hands are reaching your waistband, trying to pull off your pants.

Nikolai smiles victoriously. His little dove is just too easy.

©doukeshi-kun 2023 — do not copy, plagiarize and repost my works to any platform, more @cherikolya

if you like my works, consider buy me a ko-fi!

#道化師-jest❃ུ۪ #bsd x reader #nikolai x reader #nikolai gogol x reader #bsd imagines #nikolai imagines #bsd nikolai x reader #bsd nikolai gogol #bungou stray dogs x reader #bungo stray dogs x reader #道化師-says❃ུ۪

[irisintheafterglow]

Hey!! Can you write some fluff hcs of katsuki taking you to prom? Thank u so much! 🥰

AAAAAA YES I CAN I LOVE THISSS fun fact i didn't get to go to senior prom because i got sick on the day of :(( but i love any excuse to wear a fancy dress !!!

cw: swearing, implied fem!reader but no she/her pronouns or descriptions, this got super long because i got carried away oops :)) hope you like this!

likes, reblogs, and replies are always appreciated <3

alright let's be honest if y'all don't already know each other, there's no way he's asking first

he'll think you're super pretty but be too proud to break the tough guy facade and make a move first

buuutttt if you're already kinda in with the bakusquad then it's a little easier for him to ask

and by ask i mean just tell you that you're going to prom with him

you're sitting next to him in the common room doing homework and he just goes

"go to prom with me."

"huh?"

"go to prom with me, 'cause who the fuck else you gonna go with."

"you're a royal asshole, you know that?" and then you pack up your stuff and go back to your dorm and he's like wait shit fuck that's not how that was supposed to go fUCK

so then the next day he's like "go to prom with me."

"are you fucking serious-"

"please?"

and this man never says please so you decide to give him a shot

you've thought he was attractive since your first year but didn't think he would be interested

and then, when you became friends, it seemed abundantly clear that he was too busy training and going on missions to have a relationship

when really he's just terrified of losing you if you don't reciprocate his feelings

so after much convincing from the rest of his friends, he mustered up the courage to ask you tell you to go to prom with him

you already know he was in the group chat after the first attempt to ask you going like

"guys i fucked up"

"bakubro what did you do"

"i told them to go to prom with me and they walked away"

"i think you're leaving out a crucial part of the story"

"ok and i said no one else would go with them"

"dUDE"

"IDIOT"

"WHY THE HELL WOULD YOU SAY THAT"

"I WAS FUCKING NERVOUS"

if you don't already have a dress, he's going dress shopping with you

sits in the waiting area of the fitting room holding a stack of glittery fabrics and doesn't give one (1) fuck about it

definitely the type to whistle under his breath when you walk out in ~the dress~

he has no idea what the fuck he's doing so he's a little,,,,abrasive when it comes to shopping with you

"you need shoes? let's get you some new fucking shoes, then."

"that color is hideous. choose something else because you're too good-looking for shit like that."

"d'you think this color would look good with my eyes? no? damn, harsh crowd."

on the night of prom he's 20 minutes early to pick you up

so he just sits on the floor of your dorm in his suit with his arm propped up on his knee while he watches you finish your makeup

he's mentally taking note of the products you use and the colors you like so if you ever ran out, he could get them for you

you come out of the bathroom and ask him how you look and he genuinely feels like he's suffocating because he can't breathe

after like 30 seconds of staring he just

"damn."

is attached to you at the hip for the remainder of the night

i'm not kidding

his arm is around your waist at all times unless you go to the bathroom or he goes to grab a drink

brags about how good you look at any chance he gets

"yeah, see that dress? i helped pick that out, assholes," he says with a shit-eating grin and the rest of his friends are like 👍ok bro

they know how big of a crush he's had on you so they're amused by how smug he is now

if you force him onto the floor to slow dance he forgets all sense of rhythm

keeps stepping on your feet

tells you to move even though he's stiffer than a wooden board

has no idea where to put his hands and can't look you in the eyes without turning bright pink

you kiss him on the cheek and he fucking freezes LMAO

turns over his shoulder and sees his friends with their phone cameras out like paparazzi (he doesn't mind)

asks you out properly at the end of the night and it's not just a command

instead of "get lunch with me sometime" it's

"get lunch with me sometime? if you wanna, you don't need to if you don't want to-"

and then you kiss him! to make him shut up! and he's a feely mess for the next three days straight until he sees you again

if you enjoy my writing and would like to support me, you can buy me a coffee on my ko-fi! you can also check out my full masterlist here :)

#bakugo x you #bakugo x reader #bakugo x y/n #katsuki x you #katsuki x reader #katsuki x y/n #bakugo katsuki x you #bakugo katsuki x reader #bakugo katsuki x y/n #mha x you #mha x reader #mha x y/n #bnha x you #bnha x reader #bnha x y/n #ask iris!

[mypoisonedvine]

Kinda dark!Neil gets jealous and very possessive over his best friend (reader) when she's dating someone. They end up arguing, he calls her something bad, she slaps him and he kisses her, eventually confessing his feelings.

I got so many requests for various versions of dark neil like yall are FERAL for him and honestly? yeah. mood.

warnings: dark (obviously), manipulation, basically neil is just an asshole lmao

"I just think you can do better," he shrugged, glancing away from you. And even though you'd probably heard it a thousand times, for some reason that one was the last straw.

"I wish you'd just say it, Neil," you spat at him, getting his attention again with a raised eyebrow. "I wish you'd just say what you're obviously getting at."

"What?" he denied, scoffing.

"You know, Craig thinks that you're--"

"Oh, fucking Craig," he rolled his eyes, "god forbid we forget for one second what Craig think-- cause Craig is sooo smart, right?"

"Shut up," you frowned. "You know, if you were really my friend, you'd just be supportive."

"If I was really your friend?" Neil repeated. "What's that mean? What am I if not your friend?"

"I-I-- well--" you stammered, trying again to say it but losing your nerve.

Neil scoffed, crossing his arms as he gave you this nasty, smug kind of smile. "You tell me to just say it, but you can't even say it yourself," he noticed. "You're not that tough, you know."

You pouted a little, looking down at the floor.

"I am your friend," he promised, "but I don't wanna be."

You nervously looked up at him, not sure what that meant, and found him stepping closer.

"I'm guessing Craig told you that-- he's an idiot, but I guess he's not completely oblivious..." Neil sighed, stepping closer to you again-- making you start to step back a little. "I don't wanna just be your friend. There, I said it."

"Wh-what do you want?" you asked, even though the answer was pretty obvious now-- you were still hoping he might give a different answer.

"I want you," he said, and your heart jumped as he stepped closer. "I always wanted you."

"N-Neil, you don't mean that," you breathed.

"I've never meant anything like I mean that," he assured. "And you can lie to yourself or to fucking Craig all you want-- but I know you want me, too."

"God, I defended you," you remembered with wide eyes, "Craig said you were just trying to get into my pants, and I defended you. I can't believe he was right..."

"Did you really not know?" Neil laughed a little. "Sometimes I thought it was obvious."

"No, I didn't know! I trusted you!" you yelped.

"Well, Jesus-- you make it sound like I did something awful," he laughed thinly, "it's not a crime to fall for your best friend."

"But all this time, and you never told me," you sighed, "were you just... waiting? Thinking I'd eventually fall into bed with you?"

"I mean..." Neil stalled awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck, and you groaned as you rolled your eyes.

"God, you're such a creep!"

He frowned, glaring at you a bit. "Listen, I'm sorry you're so goddamn disappointed, but you don't have to be such a bitch--"

Instantly you put your hand up-- it was pure instinct at that point-- but before you could hit him across the face, he grabbed your wrist and clicked his tongue at you disapprovingly.

"Don't do that," he warned you. "Don't be like that."

"Neil, let go," you whimpered, trying to tug your hand away, but he just grabbed your hip and pulled you into him. His eyes met yours before trailing down to your lips, his own sighing for a moment.

"I wanted you so bad," he said again, softer, "for so long. Enough to drive a guy crazy, you know-- being around you all the time and never having you."

"Neil, please," you whispered back, eyes welling with tears. "Just let me go, please."

"Not until you admit that you wanted this, too," he replied, and you shook your head as you bit your shaking lip.

He frowned again, finally letting go of your wrist and holding your cheek instead.

"We're so much better for each other," he insisted, "I'll take such good care of you, angel. Why won't you just let me do that, huh?"

Instead of giving you time to respond, he suddenly pressed his lips to yours; he held your head when you tried to pull back, forcing you to stay close against him as he hummed quietly against you. You tried to push harder on his shoulders, but he only tilted his head and deepened the kiss, slipping his tongue into the opening created by your gasp of protest.

He seemed to think if he just forced it on you long enough, you'd succumb to it, and he got frustrated when he didn't work. He slipped his hand around your neck, tightening it just enough to threaten you with something worse. "Kiss me," he ordered you under his breath, and you felt like you had to at this point for your safety. Struggling to put any real passion into it as your heart raced with fear, you shut your eyes and finally kissed him back; he moaned a little, you even felt him smile and hold you tighter.

You broke away enough to speak again. "We can't-- Neil, this isn't okay," you stammered out.

"It's fine," he promised dismissively as he leaned in again, "I won't tell him."

"N-no, fuck, I don't mean--" you groaned, but you were interrupted when Neil pressed his hips to yours and you felt the bulge in his jeans. "F-fuck, Neil--"

"See what you do to me?" he grinned. "Sorry, I just can't help it-- I swear I'm hard half the time that I'm with you, you're just so cute."

"Are you fucking serious?" you sneered at him.

"You're even cuter when you're angry with me," he laughed, easily pushing your hand away when you tried to hit him again. "C'mon, don't fight me, angel-- please don't fight me."

You were about to ask what the fuck else you were supposed to do when he was acting like this, but you were interrupted as he shoved you down onto the couch, climbing on top of you. "What the fuck are you--?!"

"Shh," he offered, kissing your neck as he started to reach up under your shirt. "Shh, hey, it's gonna be good, okay? You're gonna realize how good we are together."

"Neil, I swear, if you don't get the fuck off of me," you began, gasping as he pinned you down by your wrists.

"Please, baby," he sighed, "I just need you so bad. Okay? I need you so fucking bad I can't stand it-- you're so funny, and sweet, and sexy, and honestly I don't even deserve you, but let me try, you know?"

He really seemed to think this was some grand romantic gesture, and not the most terrifying thing you'd ever seen so up close.

"I'll give you anything you want," he promised, "I'll do anything you want--"

"Get off me."

"Other than that," he added with a little laugh. "I need to show you how much you mean to me... so please don't put up too much of a fight, okay? Because I really don't want to hurt you."

He leaned down and kissed your lips again, softer and sweeter, before kissing your cheek instead and then whispering beside your ear.

"But I will if I have to."

#neil lewis dark smut #dark!neil lewis x reader

[graceloveswolves]

Sharing a Bed For The First Time

Derek :

He would be a gentleman, letting you choose which side of the bed you want. Ask you if you’re too cold or warm, and grabbing an extra blanket for you. He would let you make the first move as to cuddling. If you didn’t make any moves he would subtly throw an arm over you not making any sort of eye contact. But have a sense of satisfaction when you accept his gesture. Too scared to move for the rest of the night when he sees you sleeping.

Stiles :

He would totally over prepare everything, spend at least an hour putting together a flat screen TV and preparing a dozen different snacks in case you didn’t like some. Spraying a random good smelling spray over his bed for the heck of it. Once you guys were actually laying down be prepared for him flailing around in 50 different positions until he eventually gives up and falls asleep. Totally brags to Scott the next day.

Scott:

Would have snuck you in/invite you if his mom took a night shift at the hospital. He would be so sweet, always making sure you were comfortable and felt safe. Probably order some food and eat it in bed. Would be down for any cuddle position even if his arm falls asleep. He would let you fall asleep first so he could watch how peaceful and beautiful you were while sleeping.

Isaac:

He would undoubtedly be awkward, yet very flirty. Totally take his shirt off and offer it to you. It would be the one of the only times he doesn’t mind not having space. He would use the time between you to have genuine conversations and enjoy the intimate feeling, since it was rare for him to be able to be himself and have someone want to be around him. He would already be planning the next sleepover in his head while you guys fall asleep.

Liam:

Beforehand, he would second guess everything. Wash his sheets and have everything cleaned up and perfect. Make sure he had plenty of pillows and things to keep you guys busy. And would probably have a panic attack over the phone with Mason on what else he should do. He’d spend 30 mins in the shower and make sure he looked good and smelled good too. Once you were actually there he’d calm down a lot and just laugh awkwardly every time his phone chimed, undoubtedly Mason blowing up his phone with questions. He would teach you some of his favorite video games if he thought that you’d be interested. But once you guys were in bed he’d be such a teddy bear and not keep his limbs to himself.

Brett:

He would just have to point out your racing heart and nervousness, just to mess with you even more. Smug asshole lmao. No but he’d be really sweet and let you find your comfort zone on your own. He would try and tease you, using his wolf senses to see how to really mess with you and get your heart racing. So you would either have to build a pillow wall against this giant wolf or get ready to fight back with his playfulness. Probably end up being a long night.

Jordan:

He would make it 100% platonic and not try anything. However, would find a way to make it happen again, and again, and again. Offering you rides, dinner, really a sweet guy. He’d give you your bed space and offer you water or snacks on your nightstand. Let you pick what you want to watch on TV. Much laughter and grinning when you put on a cop series/criminal series and hear him swap war stories and similar situations.

Theo:

*gif* so cocky and smug. Low key trying to get in your pants the entire time. Very charming and polite though. Would literally stare at you like prey. After he gets control of himself he would start to be more genuine and relaxed. Most likely just stare at you the entire night while you slept, too scared to go to sleep and wake up with you gone.

Aiden:

Aiden is more light hearted and joking about it. He creates a comforting aura and environment. Jokes about him actually being Ethan. He would one by one take his clothes off and throw it at you, while smiling and just soaking up your shyness. Offers to go sneak out and do something at like 3am.

#werewolf x reader #teen wolf #teen wolf x reader #teen wolf one shot #teen wolf preferences #teen wolf imagines #derek hale x reader #isaac lahey #teen wolf imagine #brett talbot x reader #brett talbot imagine #brett Talbot #scott mccall x reader #scott mccall imagine #stiles stilinksi x reader #stiles stilinski imagine #isaac lahey x reader #liam dunbar x reader #theo raeken x reader #theo raeken imagine #jordan parrish imagines #jordan parrish x reader #theo raeken #Scott mccall #liam dunbar imagine #liam dunbar #stiles stilinski #Jordan Parrish #Derek hale #derek hale one shot

[altocat]

Anyway, we need to talk about how Genesis legit grins like a punk bitch…

(as demonstrated below)

….after completely dowsing Seph in fire blasts. HE JUST COMMITTED ARSON ON HIS BEST FRIEND AND LOOKS LIKE THIS. I LOVE HIM??

And now we know where Seph learned it

I’ll try smirking! That’s a good trick!

Case closed, fam. (I’m dying) (What is wrong with them) (Also in this crack context why does it look like Seph is trying to mimic Gen and not doing it very well dsfagh)

Smirky bois. The planet cannot contain their infinite layers of smug.

They really are such assholes lmao Genesis is a bad influence!

#asks #ff7 #ffvii #final fantasy 7 #crisis core #sephcanons #sephiroth #genesis rhapsodos

[joohanisms]

hi lizzie! i already know you by your main, i wanted to ask you some oneshots/thoughts about sex with jealous jiseok?

MY MAIN ?@?@@? was it from the obnoxious amount of likes i leave on every single work on the xdh tags LMAO thank you so much for the request <33 hope you like it

jealous jiseok thoughts 💭💫

cw: jealousy obv, oral (fem receiving), possessive tones, unprotected sex (on birth control. don't be dumb), cum play slightly wc: 1,1k

minors dni

jiseok doesn't strike me to be the type to get jealous easily But! once he does... oh no

let's say you're out somewhere, like a party. and he's going about the looks people shoot you the usual way: smirking back at people, all smug, as if he's saying "this is Mine <3 look at me having someone you'll never have"

he did not expect your own friend to hit on you though

they were always a little touchy, and jiseok's not usually bothered (hell, he's not even in a place to be bothered. his friends are hanging off his shoulders half the time – if it doesn't bother you, it shouldn't bother him)

but tonight they were too affectionate

it started with them casually touching you while you talked, then they started playing with your fingers and fixing your hair and now jiseok's threat radar is beeping

when they lean in to talk into your ear, he draws the line. he's intervening

he gets closer and hears the "come on, leave with me. he doesn't have to know" in the air

oh no. oh nononono

he's PISSED. not only are they flirting with you in front of him, they're also blatantly asking you to cheat?

you can barely begin to indignantly refuse as he wraps his arm around your shoulders, ignores the so called friend and goes "hey, babe." before he presses a kiss that lasts a second too long to your lips

"do you want to go home? i think we'd have a better time there than here," pointedly looks at the person in front of you and pulls you closer, "plus i really want to find out what's the surprise you said you have for me back home."

there's no surprise. he's only making a point. you don't think you're even wearing matching underwear

he didn't even wait for your friend to say anything – as soon as you open your mouth to agree, he's whisking you away (he Does look back to see their face though)

when you're finally met with the fresh night air outside the building, jiseok pulls his phone out to call you both a cab and starts his angry rant

"are they out of their mind? doing that when i'm a few feet away? trying to get you to fuck them when they know damn well you're taken! we're not seeing that asshole ever again, they should feel lucky i didn't punch their teeth right off, if i was the slightest bit crazier i would've–"

"jiseokie," a hand to his cheek, "are you jealous?"

he looks up from his phone to find your playful gaze. he huffed, "of course i am! who do they think they are–" he's cut off by a searing kiss to his lips.

"it's kind of hot."

the way you were looking at him... hell he could fuck you right then and there and even hope your stupid friend catches you. unfortunately, the cab is here and the poor driver shouldn't be subjected to seeing that

the second you arrive at your apartment, he's holding your face with both his hands and kissing you downright filthily in your little entrance hall

you need to take your shoes off though... that's not a problem at all – you hear his chunky sneakers be tossed to the ground while he keeps kissing you the best he can, and you only separate as he crouches down to unlace your boots for you

you can barely appreciate the view of your boyfriend at your feet before your boots are off and he's on you again

his lips attach to your neck, sucking and nipping on the flesh while his hands sneak under your shirt

he has half a mind to bend you over the couch and fuck you stupid until your moans are engraved on the couch, but he ultimately decides on pulling you into your bedroom

before you even get to the bed, you're shirtless, jiseok's hands fumbling with the clasps of your bra while you work on his jeans

you don't get very far before your knees hit the bed and you're falling backwards

your hair fawning around your face, your cheeks flushed, your lips kiss-bitten, your bra half-off, your eyes nearly desperate... jiseok is so glad he's the only one who gets to see you like this

(and if it's up to him he'll be the only one to see you like this for the rest of time <3)

but for now he'll just push your skirt up and pull your underwear down <3

and eats you out sooooo good like legs over his shoulders his fingers spreading you

after you cum, you try to repay the favor but he grabs your hands and goes "wanna cum inside you, baby, please"

and who are you to deny him !! it's not common to have him cum in you even though you're on birth control... my guy likes the visual of his cum on your skin

and so in a second his pants and underwear are off, your legs are around his hips and he's ruining your neck again while he guides his cock to your entrance

he pushes in bit by bit, and only when he bottoms out he detaches from your neck and grins, pressing the pads of his fingers into what you assume are the hickeys he left

"you're mine", he softly says, looking into your eyes, before he starts thrusting into you

it gets really fast and rough really quick

you can't help but moan a little too loudly, the way his hips are slamming into your thighs feels divine. and when he presses his thumb to your clit...... you're seeing stars wtf

he's kissing you desperately, in a mix of panting and actually kissing you properly. your arms wind around his neck, needing him closer while you feel a familiar wave of pleasure starting to come over you

what really does it for you is his little rushed whisper of "mine, mine, mine, you're only mine right baby? mine to fuck you like this, mine to ruin, mine"

he keeps mumbling possessives and filth while he fucks you through your high

"'m yours, ji– only yours," you manage to say through the fog in your brain, and you feel his release fill your cunt

when he finally stops grinding into you, prolonging his orgasm as much as he could, he'll pull out slowly so he can watch his cum drip out of your hole

scoops a little bit of it with his fingers and smears it on your cheek, kissing you deeply afterwards

"my baby," he whispers between kisses, "only mine."

when both of you have finally caught your breaths, jiseok gets up to fetch a towel to wipe you down

when he comes back, he cleans you thoroughly - except the cum smeared on your cheek

"you forgot something." you point to your sticky cheek.

he grins devilishly, straddling you. "that's for you to wear, babe. so everyone knows you're mine."

bonus: when you're cuddling later, ready to sleep, you remember something: "... so what was the surprise i had for you back here?"

"shut up and go to sleep."

#xdinary heroes smut #xdh imagines #xdinary heroes imagine #xdh smut #xdh hard hours #xdh scenarios #xdh x reader #xdinary heroes hard hours #xdinary heroes x reader #xdinary heroes fanfic #gaon x reader #gaon smut #my fics #xdinary heroes imagines #kwak jiseok imagine #kwak jiseok smut #kwak jiseok x reader #gaon imagine

[here2bbtstrash]

moving day (explicit)

genre: domestic-ass smut (honestly kind of fluffy bc i am Whipped For Min Yoongi)

pairing: yoongi x reader

summary: you manage to entice your boyfriend into taking a break from unloading boxes to unload something else instead.

word count: 2.6k

contains: explicit sexual content bloop bloop !!! established relationship, up to you if it's idol-verse or not idk 🤷‍♀️, cunnilingus, blowjob, reader gets a facial oop, tiny bit of praise kink, long-haired yoongi with a hair tie on his wrist 🥵🥵, yoongi has domestic soft dom energy, reader is yoongisexual lmao

A/N: my water sign placements really Jumped out with this one...... that's all i'll say lmao i am lowkey embarrazzed and not responsible for any delulu feelings this may stir up 👀👀 BUT BOY IT SURE WAS NICE TO WRITE A YOONGI THAT ISN'T THE ONE FROM LDOMLT !!! even i need a break from that asshole sometimes 😂 hope y'all enjoyyyyy 💜

this is also on AO3!

~*~

“Remind me again why we didn’t hire movers?” The question comes out strained as you struggle to lift a particularly heavy box.

Your boyfriend watches you carefully to make sure you’re lifting safely– if you have to hear him say ‘with your knees, not your back’ one more time, you think you might lose it. Then he grabs another box off the truck and follows you up the drive to the house.

“I didn’t realize you had so much crap,” he says with a wry laugh. You make a mental note to get him back for that later.

A bead of sweat rolls down your temple, and when you finally deposit the box on the kitchen floor, you reach up to wipe it away with the back of your hand. The heat wave that’s been ongoing for the last few weeks is stifling, but Yoongi made a huge fuss about not turning on the AC until you got everything off the truck. Something about how you’d just be leaving the door open, and he’s not going to waste money to air condition the entire street.

Your boyfriend is such an old man sometimes, honestly. He’s lucky you love him.

Yoongi’s mouth pulls down at the corners as he struggles to read the label on the box in his arms, determining where he needs to drop it. It’s one of the many endearing faces he makes that you find so sexy, even though you objectively shouldn’t. A little thrill of excitement runs through you at the reminder that this is, in fact, really happening. You’ll get to see all of him, every morning and every night.

His face, and… You follow him down the hall, appreciating the view. His cute little butt, and…

Gingerly setting the box on the floor, he stands upright and sweeps his hair off his forehead for a moment in an attempt to cool down. His hair.

Yoongi claims he hasn’t gotten it cut because he’s been so busy with all the planning and packing required for the move, and maybe that’s true. You have also threatened to burn down any salon he makes an appointment with, and it was a joke, but god. He looks so fucking good like this. If he actually admitted to keeping it long just to make you happy, you’d probably propose on the spot.

He glances up and catches you openly staring, sticking his tongue out to indicate how overheated he is. Then he waggles his eyebrows and your core throbs a little. Fucking hell, the things this man does to you.

Your heart jumps in your chest as he walks back down the hallway to close the distance between you. Before you have time to process it, his thigh is slotting between your legs, his hips pinning you against the wall as he finds your lips with his own. It’s enough to make you gasp into his mouth, and you can feel his smug smile at your reaction.

Yoongi loves to make you come undone.

He pulls away far too quickly, and you whine a little at him leaving you unsatisfied. Not that you could ever get enough of kissing him, but you’d at least like to try.

“Come on,” his voice is quiet and low in his throat. “We’re nearly done with these boxes. Then we can properly christen this place.”

You don’t want to move any more stupid boxes. You want him to turn you around and take you right up against the wall. But you lose your will to argue when he gently strokes your arm with his hand, and you look down to see the thin black elastic around his wrist.

Since the two of you got together, your friends have relentlessly bullied you for this fact: you are insanely whipped for your boyfriend. They’ve dubbed you “Yoongisexual” at this point because literally anything he does becomes a kink for you. Including the simple act of wearing a hair tie around his wrist. It’s something you’ve done for most of your life, so when he kept complaining about his long hair getting in the way, you bought him a pack of elastics, mostly as a joke.

But then he started wearing one around his wrist, and you realized very quickly that it was no longer a joke.

You slip a finger under the thin black band and tug on it gently, and he smirks at you, because you both know exactly what he uses it for. “Soon. I promise.”

As much as you want to be good and do what you’re told, you’ve run out of patience. When Yoongi moves to head for the front door again, you tighten your grip around his wrist, forcing him to turn back to you. Then you slide his hand up your skirt and beneath the waistband of your panties so he can feel how soaked you are.

“How am I supposed to go back to lifting boxes when you did this to me?”

A groan escapes his lips as his fingers brush over your drenched folds and circle around your warm, wet center. You smile because you know damn well you’re on equal footing in this relationship: Yoongi is entirely whipped for you, too.

He presses one of his perfect fingers into your tight heat, curling it to rub circles on your g-spot, and you inhale sharply at the feeling. Your head tilts back against the wall, your eyes fluttering closed. “Ah, fuck.”

Yoongi grunts in response, and when you open your eyes again to take him in, he’s looking at you like he’s ready to devour you.

Withdrawing his hand from your panties, he slips the other between your back and the wall, encouraging you to stand up and move towards the kitchen. You follow the direction of his touch, knees instantly a little weak. When he guides you to the island in the center of the wide, sunny room, you turn back to him in confusion.

He wastes no time on explanation, arms wrapping just under your ass to pick you up and set you easily on the counter. You squeak at unexpectedly being lifted off the ground like it’s nothing: he really is getting shredded from all those Pilates classes.

Yoongi is already working to strip you of your shoes and socks, and the look on his face is so focused, with a blazing intensity that’s bordering on anger. Fuck, you love it when he gets like this. It only takes him a matter of seconds to finish the task, and then his hands are reaching up your thighs.

“What about the boxes?” You ask demurely.

“I don’t give a shit.” Yoongi says, his voice deadly serious. “The neighbors can have them.”

You lift your hips to assist as he pushes your skirt up and grabs the band of your thong, pulling it down and off of you entirely. He sends it sailing over to the other side of the kitchen, and now there’s nothing separating your cunt from the cold marble countertop. He grabs you by the hips and scoots you forward just a little more, until your ass is almost hanging off the edge of the island.

You want it so bad, but there’s still a tiny part of you that protests. You have to say it. “But Yoongi, this is where we’re going to eat.”

When he glances up at you, quirking an eyebrow, you realize what you’ve set him up for. “I know,” he says coolly. “What do you think I’m doing?”

Just as you open your mouth to argue, Yoongi reaches for the hair tie on his wrist, deliberately poking at your known weakness. Pulling it off, he places it between his teeth as his hands reach up to run through his hair. He rakes the dark strands back into a small, low ponytail at the base of his neck, then grabs the elastic out of his mouth and loops it around a few times until it's secure.

You think to yourself that you have no idea how you got so lucky, and then he brings his mouth to you and that thought is reinforced a thousand fold.

With a heady sigh of relief, you lean back, bracing yourself on your elbows and draping your legs over his shoulders. Yoongi’s already groaning against you as he slides his tongue up your dripping wet folds. He loves the way you taste, would spend hours between your legs if you’d let him– which sometimes you absolutely do. And he’s fucking good at it.

It would be impossible to make a full ranked list of all the things you love about your boyfriend, but his tongue is definitely in the top five. He traces it up to settle at your clit, flicking against the sensitive bud with short, deft strokes, and you make a mental correction as you groan and buck up into him. Top three.

He slips two fingers into your pussy this time, and your next moan is nearly a sob as he starts to press down hard with them against your front wall, matching the rhythm of his tongue. “Yes, baby, fuuuuuck,” you cry out.

“Mm-hmm,” Yoongi hums in response against your cunt, and the buzz of his mouth drives you fucking crazy, as does the satisfied look on his face that you see when you glance down. Your boyfriend loves doing things he’s good at, which certainly includes making you come.

And you’re already close to the edge, a fresh wave of arousal gushing out of you as he takes you apart so expertly. You’re sure you’ve made a mess of the counter beneath your ass.

You’re so worked up now, inches from your orgasm, that you can’t keep quiet, moans interspersed with breathless swearing and pleading.

“Fuck, Yoongi, please, don’t fucking stop,” you whimper, and his pace only increases slightly, his perfect rhythm never faltering. You can hear the squelch of his fingers curled inside you, the slick slip of his tongue across your clit, flicking over and over, and your legs are starting to shake.

“Ohhh shit,” you groan loudly as you feel your core start to tighten around him. You reach one hand forward to brush a few loose strands of hair off his forehead, reveling in his absolute perfection as your climax approaches. “God fucking dammit, Yoongi, yes, yes–” your words break off with a loud moan as the wave of pleasure surges and your walls begin to pulse. Your arms tremble with the effort of keeping you propped up as your orgasm rips through you, your back arching violently.

It feels like you’re coming forever, and Yoongi gently slows his pace to ride you through it, your cunt fluttering around his fingers again and again. He waits until you give a soft whine of overstimulation, then finally withdraws, trailing light kisses along your hips and thighs.

“Oh my god, I love you so much,” you manage to gasp, and you hear him laugh a little.

“Come show me how much,” he instructs, and you don’t need any more encouragement. Your legs threaten to give out as you slip off the counter, and you sink to your knees as gently as possible to avoid banging them on the wood floor. You pull his dick out of his sweatpants and can’t help but make a soft, appreciative noise at the weight and thickness of him in your hand.

You’ve never dated anyone who gets as hard as Yoongi does just from performing oral. When you think back on your exes, you usually had to coax them to attention after eating you out. But you’ve never had that problem with Yoongi. You swear he nearly gets as much pleasure from it as you do.

This thought is all but confirmed when you take him in your mouth, tasting the salt of the pre-cum that’s already leaked out of his tip, and he groans at the feeling. “I’m not gonna last long, baby,” he admits, and you take that as a challenge.

You grip his thighs with your hands and start to bob your mouth along his length, hollowing your cheeks and applying extra pressure with your tongue in exactly the way you know he likes. You swear you feel his knees nearly buckle.

“Fuck yeah,” he hisses. “Good girl. Just like that.” You hum a little, pleased at the praise, and pick up the pace at which you’re swallowing him down.

Yoongi doesn’t babble quite as much as you do when he’s close, instead preferring to make heady little grunts and groans; they’re the sexiest sounds in the world as far as you’re concerned. The low timbre of his voice is enough to make your cunt flutter back to life, as is the way he squeezes his eyes shut and tilts his head back, hips bucking into your mouth to match your pace.

“Baby,” he groans, and you glance up at him again, not letting your tempo change. “Wanna paint your face, fuck. Can I?”

He doesn’t do it particularly often, but you know finishing on your face is something Yoongi loves. It’s one of the many, many things you had no interest in until this man waltzed into your life and pulled out all the freakiest parts of you that you didn’t even know existed.

Which is why when he asks, you don’t hesitate. You slide off him with a wet pop and sit back on your heels, staring up at him with your eyes wide and your tongue out.

“Goddamn,” he grunts as he brings his hand to his cock, pumping himself hard and fast. “So fucking good for me.” He only has to stroke a few more times before he makes a final strangled whine, white ropes of cum spilling out of him and across your waiting face and tongue.

Yoongi milks every last drop out with a few gasps of effort, and you giggle a little despite yourself. You just love him, every part, every noise.

As if he can read your mind, he says it back. “Love you. Fuck.”

You try to hold your head still to keep any rogue drops from running into your eyes. Yoongi looks around, and you see a worried expression start to cross his face as he tucks his dick into his pants.

“Shit, baby. I don’t think we’ve unpacked the towels yet.” Your shoulders shake a little in more disbelieving giggles. “Hang on, hang on,” he calls back to you as he disappears out of the kitchen, moving quickly.

It’s only for a brief moment that you have to just sit there and laugh, beads of cum trailing down your jaw, and then he returns, dropping onto his knees next to you. He’s holding the roll of paper towels you’ve been using to clear errant dust in the new house as you go.

“Should have planned ahead. Let me clean you up.” Yoongi says softly, tearing off a few sheets and dabbing at your face. He soaks through them quickly and has to grab more. “Fuck, you made me come a lot,” he says with an embarrassed laugh, and that only makes you laugh more.

He wipes the last of it from your temples, then lets the damp crumpled sheets drop to the kitchen floor, taking your face in his hands and pulling you in for a sweet, gentle kiss. You smile against his mouth in an overwhelming daze of happiness.

When you break away, he presses another quick kiss to your forehead, then murmurs against your hairline. “Well, that’s one room down. Let’s finish this up, and then you can help me decide if I should bend you over the couch or my desk first.” You bury your face in his shoulder at the mental image, and his strong arms wrap around your waist, pulling you even closer. “God, I fucking love you.”

#yoongi x reader #yoongi smut #yoongi x y/n #bts smut #bts x reader #moving day

[ventiswampwater]

liminal spaces

bo sinclar x afab!reader

rating: explicit

word count: 6.3k

Bo POV. It’s been a long day. Crackin’ open a cold one (and then another, and another) in a town the world forgot. 

Crossposted on AO3 here. 

⚠️ Established codependent toxic murder couple relationship. Reader’s pretty far gone and is ACTIVELY complicit in the wax murder fuckery. Nothing about this is healthy, lmao! Very dubious consent due to Stockholm Syndrome. References to violence/murders the reader has participated in.

Alcohol consumption and intoxication. Weird affection and drunken banter. Soft but in a VERY strange way because this is the worst situation imaginable, and the reader is clearly Not Doing Well. Childhood abuse/trauma is discussed. Light sprinkling of humor. Lots of kissing. 69ing. 

Both parties are varying levels of drunk when the aforementioned making out and 69ing takes place. Bruises/rough sex are briefly mentioned, but the actual smut is very........not rough??? Daddy kink. Light orgasm control/denial and general smug asshole dialogue from Bo. Occasional degrading language. Unfortunately, this is still him we’re dealing with. ⚠️

💭💖@visceravalentines​​​ MEG MY BELOVED, thank you so much for this request!! I had a TON of fun working on it. I hope you enjoy it!! it’s kinda goofy, kinda creepy, kinda soft in the worst way possible! 

It was messy, doing it in the house like that.

Bo stands and surveys the damage, a thrum of anxious excitement humming under his skin. The shattered remnants of one of the plates you’d prepared litter the floor, an explosion of potatoes and peas smearing the baseboard. All of this was a waste of damn good food—but then again, you never could expect the out-of-towners to have any respect for that kind of thing. Whistling, he picks up the biggest pieces of ceramic, sweeping up the rest and dumping it into the trash.

His eyes land on the knife you left on the counter. There’s blood coating the blade, dripping onto the laminate. He sets it in a glass in the sink, watching red bloom slowly in the soapy water. Glancing down at his hand, he finds his palm slick with blood. His mouth pulls into a smile as he gives the handle a stir. The blood swirls in stringy curls, metal clinking against the glass.

He runs a sponge under the tap and wipes the counter off. Washing the blood from his hand, he looks over at the glass. The bubbles on the surface are pale pink, the glint of the blade faintly visible through the cloudy red water. 

He leaves that for later, for you.

He chews absentmindedly at the inside of his mouth as he dries his hands off, staring out the window. The texture of the dishtowel is all wrong—your skin is softer, and that’s what he wants right now. He thinks of the way you’d held the knife, your knuckles blooming white with the pressure.

Kid had been young too. Twenty-something.

God, he’s itching to get his hands on you.

He calls out for you, twisting his head to listen for a response. The only sound that answers him is a low crackle from out in the living room. A record spins on the dusty old turntable, the needle scratching away at the vinyl as it skips. He picks it up and the house falls into silence.

Walking over to the stairs, he calls for you again. Still, no answer. He lets out a frustrated exhale, squinting up at the second floor. He knows that you’re gone before he reaches the top step, but he checks anyway. The rooms are all empty. You must have slipped out when they were moving the bodies.

The needling edge of want in his belly is twisting unpleasantly. The killing was only as fun as what came after it. You couldn’t leave things like that unfulfilled.

Back downstairs, he opens the fridge and pulls out a case of beer.

“Always makin’ me chase you, girl.” He mutters to himself.

He finds you on the back porch of one of Ambrose’s many empty houses, hugging your knees to your chin. The screen door whines against its hinges as he pushes it open. If you hear him, you don’t move.

You startle when he nudges your shoulder with his knee, swiveling your head up to look at him. He offers you one of the beers with a grunt. Setting the case on the wood, he lowers himself down beside you. 

“You can’t be runnin’ off like that.”

You make a small noncommittal noise, turning your face back to the dessicated yard. It’s an overgrown tangle of weeds and dirt. An explosion of honeysuckle hangs over the fence, the weather-beaten pickets bending underneath the weight. He follows your gaze across the lawn. A kiddie pool sits in a dense patch of crabgrass, the plastic cracked and sagging. Years of being baked by the sun have left the print nearly indistinguishable, vague splatters of cartoon flowers scattering the sun-baked surface.

He cracks a beer open, watching as you look out at all that nothing.

He was always spooning you out of yourself on days like this. Every time was the first time for you. Eventually, he was sure this would get old. You’d get tired of being tired and you’d stay put.

You haven’t made a move to open your bottle yet, your fingers scratching aimlessly at the label.  

If you decide it doesn’t matter, it doesn’t matter. That’s all there is to it. Pa had told him that once. Old man had never been one for good advice, but Bo figured there was something to that. He’d tried to pass that lesson on to you—once with words, once with his hands, once with a screwdriver jammed into the fleshy neck of another tourist.

That was before he figured things out about you. Before he’d realized that telling you things was pointless. So was showing you things. It could be right in front of you and it wouldn’t matter. You could watch him kill, clean up the mess, but you weren’t learning anything. You had to do things yourself. You had to have your hands on the blade.

“Need some help with that?” He reaches for the bottle, and you give it over wordlessly. Opening it easily, he tosses the cap off into the yard.  

“Thanks.” Your voice is soft.

“Yup.” He hands the bottle back to you.

You sit there for a bit, sipping on your beers. 

“Who used to live here?” Your voice breaks the silence, low and quiet at the back of your throat.

He peers around, glancing up at the rusty old wind chimes. They hang statically overhead, a wooden angel dangling dejectedly from the center string. There’s hardly a breeze today.

“A couple, I think. Had a kid. They didn’t last.”

You pivot your head towards him, a hardness to your stare.

“They moved.” He raises a brow. “Christ, girl. Lookin’ at me like I’m some kinda animal.”

The silence resumes. This time, he’s the one to break it, clearing his throat.

“Whatchu doin’ out here, anyway?”

“I like it here.” You mumble. “It’s peaceful.”

He’s always thought that was a strange way to describe dead things, but he’ll indulge you today.

“Whatever you say, Mrs. Sinclair.”

You let out a humorless laugh.

“Thought you’d like that.” You raise the bottle to your lips. When you speak again, there’s a sharp edge to your voice. “People trust a family man a lot more than a bachelor.”

“Got me a little actress.” He chuckles. “How many kids you say we have?”

“Twins.” You sigh, pinching at the bridge of your nose.

“Runs in the family.”

“Which side?” You murmur.

“Father’s.” He leans forward, trying to catch your eye.

“Mmm.” You say tonelessly, staring off into the yard.

“You kept those folks occupied for a while.” He states, his voice tinged with begrudging pride. “How you swing that? Thought all that noise would set ‘em off.”

“It almost did.” You take a deep swig of the beer, wincing a bit at the taste. “I just…told them I had two boys running around, so they shouldn’t mind any noises they heard. Said they're fine when they're loud. It's when they get all quiet that you have to worry."

“They buy that?” He arches a brow.

“I guess.” You shrug. “Said they were grounded and pissed.”

“Grounded for what?”

“Oh, uh—”   You rub at your temple, squeezing your eyes shut. “I caught them in your shop, messing around. All covered in grease, digging through daddy’s tools.”

“Breakin' shit?”

“I was thinking finger painting in motor oil, but yeah, that works.”

“Little shits.” He lets out a low whistle.

The flicker of a smile teases at the corner of your mouth. It’s gone as fast as it comes. Figures that you don’t want to give it to him yet. You’re a selfish little thing. He takes another pull of the beer, remembering the sound you made when you plunged the knife in.

He’d faltered a bit on purpose back there. Let one of them get the upper hand, just long enough for you to notice. He’d gone down on the floor, hands wrapped around his throat. It wasn’t tight enough to hold him, but you didn’t need to know that. Your eyes were wide and glassy with panic when you’d picked up the knife. It was the same one you’d used to carve the meat out and portion it onto the plates.

When it came down to it, there were two men in the kitchen that afternoon.

One rack of knives and you picked the sharpest one.

He was always giving you choices.

If something loves you, let it go. If it comes back, it comes back with blood on its hands. Somebody had said that once. Probably.

“Pot roast was a nice touch.” He remarks. “Had some of it. Shame most of it ended up on the ground.”

“Can’t believe you could eat after that.” You breathe out.

“Works up an appetite.”

You go quiet next to him. He glances over to find you staring intently down at your shoes, your brow furrowed. There’s blood speckling the toe of your sneakers. He watches as you lean down and begin undoing the laces, pulling them off. Tugging your socks off with a tight exhale, you stuff them into your shoes. With a sigh, you toss them unceremoniously off the porch steps, letting them land messily in the grass.

“You gonna make it?” He knocks his knee against yours.

“Don’t know. Are you?” You reply back tartly. “Mr. Sinclair?”

“Well.” He deliberates for a second, pursing his lips. “That depends on you, baby.”

“What are you talking about?” Your voice is brittle.

“You either know or you don’t.” He shrugs.

You let out a breathy laugh, your mouth working into an open-mouthed grimace. For the first time this afternoon, he sees the shimmer of tears in your eyes. Throwing your head back, you down the rest of your beer. A bit of it spills out of your mouth. You swipe your hand across your lips, rubbing at them for too long, too hard.

When you turn your head to look at him, the tears are gone. They’re just another thing you aren’t giving him today.

“Guess so.” You place the empty bottle down on the stoop with a pointed thud. “Can I get another one of these?”

“Yes ma’am.”

A small collection of bottles has gathered on the porch, brown glass glinting in the warm afternoon light. Out in the yard, you’re standing with your back to him. Hands on your hips, you peer into the kiddie pool. He leans back on his elbows, his eyes tracing up your figure.

“There’s water in this.” You announce, your voice oddly serious.

“Oh yeah?” He calls over. “You gonna jump in?”

You spin on your heel, wobbling a bit. He watches you steady yourself, straightening your neck to fix him with a incredulous expression.

“No. Way.”

“Look at’chu, bein’ all smart.” He smirks. “You a little drunk, girl?”

“Nope.” The word lengthens in your mouth, pops.

“Uh-huh.” He nods, letting his eyes fall closed.

“Bo?” He opens his eyes to find you beckoning him forward excitedly. “Come see!”

He shakes his head. You shoot him a pleading expression. Frowning, he drums his fingers on the wood. Despite his better judgment, he raises himself off the stoop. He’s a bit drunker than he thought he was. Slowly, he makes his way across the yard. You beam up at him when he reaches you, pointing at the pool.

The two of you stand in silence next to each other, peering down into the grimy swill of water. Clumps of scraggly vegetation burst out from the sludge. A gum wrapper bobs dejectedly on the surface, its cheerful neon wrapper covered in muck.

“What am I lookin’ at?” He asks dryly.

“The water.” You exclaim. “There’s…organisms…growing in it.”

“Organisms, huh?” He chews at the inside of his mouth, biting back a laugh.

“Yeah.” You bat your lashes up at him. “I dare you to go in.”

“Don’t know ‘bout that, girl. That water’s lookin’ mighty deep.”

“It’s not deep at all.” You scoff, not registering the sarcasm in his tone. “It’s like…the shallows at a beach.”

“That don’t mean anythin’ too me. Never been to a beach.”

“Never?!” You gape at him, blinking.

“You see any beaches ‘round here, girl?”

“Wait.” He watches as you tilt your head, your eyes narrowing. A flash of realization steals over your face. “Can you swim?”

He debates lying to you, but the liquor in his system answers for him.

“No.”

Your eyes go wide, your mouth curving into a surprised grin.

“You done makin’ fun of me?” He grumbles.

“I’m not. Promise.” Your eyes twinkle. Drunk, you’re not very convincing. “Hey. You know what? I’ll teach you.”

“Oh yeah?” He gestures at the kiddie pool. “In that?”

You snort out an inelegant laugh, your nose crinkling. Grabbing onto his arm for support, you wheeze out a string of jittery cackles.

“Real hilarious.” He mutters, jutting his thumb back towards the porch. “You wanna go sit down ‘fore you hurt yourself?”

You let out an indignant huff, but you follow after him. With moderately more effort than usual, you make your way up the steps. Plopping down next to him on the porch, you reach over, tugging playfully at one of the buttons on his shirt.

“Don’t you get hot in this?”

“I’m used to it.” He picks up his beer. “Gives you grit.”

“Really?”

“Yep.” The liquor’s loosening his lips. “You wanna hear a funny story?”

You nod.

“So, gets real hot in the house. Sure you noticed. Always been like that. And I ‘member one day…had to be summer. Just like this. No breeze. And I…” He pinches his tongue between his teeth, searching back in his memory. “I broke this, uh, statue.”

“Why?” You rest your chin on his shoulder.

“Dunno. Ma had it in the hallway, right next to our room. Couldn’t tell ya’ what it was now. But it was an ugly fuckin’ thing.”

“Where’d she get it?”

“Made it, I reckon. She had a buncha that kinda shit, all ‘round the house.” He swirls the beer around in the bottle idly. “It’s not like I wanted to see it every day. And that’s why she put it there, I figure. She was always doin’ shit like that. Used to really piss me off.”

“So you broke it?”

“Not on purpose. I was just tryin’ to move it. But—” He shrugs, raising the bottle back to his lips. “That’s what happened.”

“Did you try to hide it?”

“Didn’t bother. It wasn’t the kinda break you can fix. There’s no gluin’ it back together.” He smiles a bit. “So you wanna know what I did?”

“What?” You pull back to look at him.

“Broke the rest of ‘em.” He breathes out an exasperated laugh. “Every. Single. Fuckin’. One. And Mama comes home, and oh, she’s mad. Bat outta hell.”

You’re quiet, watching his face.

“Downstairs, that’s Vinny’s now, but it wasn’t always.” He clears his throat, smacking his lips. “Used to be a root cellar. We added onto it, over time.”

“Yeah?”

“And she…” He laughs, leaning back on his elbows. “Stuck me down there for a bit. Put somethin’ on top of the hatch. Dunno what it was, but I couldn’t push it open. I was real scared. It’s dark down there and your eyes don’t—uh—they don’t adjust. Least mine didn’t. ‘Cuz there’s nothin’ down there to look at. It’s just those walls, and they’re just dirt.”

You don’t say anything in response. He continues.

“Dunno how many times I tried that door. And I kept feelin’ like there was somethin’ down there. Kept hearin’ things. But nothin’ ever came. Know why? It was just me down there.” His lips curve into a grin. “Wasn’t scared of the dark after that, I’ll tell ya’.”

“How old were you?”

“Eight. Nine.” He shakes his head dismissively. “Old enough to know better.”

You’re silent. When he looks over at you, your mouth has flattened into a thin line.

“What? Why you lookin’ at me like that?”

“That’s awful.”

“Says you, city girl.” He snaps. The concern on your face is making him feel oddly exposed, pinning him under the spotlight of your stare. “Shoulda known you wouldn’t know what the fuck I’m talkin’ ‘bout.”

“Hey—”

“You grew up soft.” He spits out. “Never had to grow a backbone.”

You open your mouth and he cuts you off.

“You gonna tell me I’m wrong?” He glares at you. “Gonna pretend like that ain’t the reason you’re still here?”

“Bo—”

“Leave it.” He nods towards your beer. “It’s gonna be flat by the time you get ‘round to drinkin’ it.”

He’s not sure why he told you that story. It’s not like it had much to do with heat, anyway. Underground, it was cool.

You slowly shift away from him, angling your body back towards the yard. The porch creeks as you move.

The longer the silence drags on, the more it feels as if he can hear it. It’s a shuffling, rustling thing. It’s the type of sound you hear in a dark room, surrounded by wet earth. A sound that isn’t really there. He wrinkles his nose a bit, pressing his tongue against the back of his teeth. Dimly, he can feel the slither of the noxious feeling that creeps over him from time to time. It comes on slow, starting as a insistent twitch in his eye. That’s before it begins to crowd around him, turning the taste on his tongue sour and flipping in his stomach.

You’re always tripping him back into old memories. Of course you are. You like dead places like that. You said it yourself. You find peace in all that nothingness.

He glares down at his hands. His goddamn wrists itch. There’s something wrong with you—wrong from the start, wrong in the way you just can’t fix. You’re more trouble than you’re worth.

Beside him, you clear you throat, raising your bottle up so you can peer at the label.

“Bottled in New Orleans.” You read out. “Have you ever been out there?”

He furrows his brow. Your question has sent his brain tunneling away from his thoughts. He wants to be irritated at you for that, but the soft buzz of alcohol is making that difficult.

“Yeah.” He grunts, scrubbing a hand over his mouth. “Played football in high school. We had a game out there. Grew up, went back. Been there a couple times.”

“What’s it like?” You chirp.

“It’s a city.” He shrugs. The silence is loosening its hold around his stomach.

You sigh, displeased with his answer. Setting your beer down on the bottom step, you fidget with your hands. Tentatively, you bump your leg against his. He glances down at you. Grudgingly, he claps his hand down on your knee. Emboldened by his vague acceptance of your affection, you scoot closer. He stretches his legs out as you lower yourself down, laying your head on his lap.  

“Is it nice there?” You look up at him, your hair spilling over his thighs.

“If you like that kinda place, yeah. Sure.” He wraps his hand around your throat lazily, enjoying the even feel of your pulse against his skin. “Food’s good, music’s what you’d expect.”

“I heard it’s haunted.”

“Didn’t see no ghosts. Ya’ know what I did see? Bunch’a drunk idiots.” He narrows his eyes at you. “Was one for a couple weeks.”

“Really.” You giggle a bit. “Will you take me there?”

“Sure.” He huffs out a laugh. “Bring the kids, get the vows renewed.”

“Good.” You say, grinning up at him. “I want a beignet.”

Your blatant mispronunciation has a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“I’ll getcha one.”

“You promise?” You fix him with a surprisingly earnest expression.

He can promise you something now, even if he doesn’t mean to keep it. Dulled under the haze of alcohol, his thoughts are dizzy, impossible things.

“Yeah.”

He runs his thumb along the column of your neck and your eyes flutter shut. There’s a bruise against your throat. Taking another sip of beer, he circles it with his finger.

“I give ya’ this?”

“Yeah?” Your eyes snap open and you stare up at him quizzically. “Who else would?”

“Dunno. Figured it was from one of your New Orleans boys.”

“Well, you haven’t taken me there yet, so…it can’t be.” You roll your eyes, letting out an exaggerated sigh. “I haven’t met any yet. It’s always just you.”

“Lots’a attitude today. Don’t think I deserve that, honey.”

He’s sobered up some by the time the two of you make it off the porch and into the house. Not by much, but enough that he’s steady on his feet. He can’t exactly say the same for you.

In the kitchen, you flip through a tattered telephone directory, gazing down at the faded print. He comes up behind you, resting his hand on the small of your back. Exterminators, landscaping, law offices. You turn another page and pause. The House of Wax looms in a full-page spread. Printed in black-and-white, it looks larger than life, its doors flung open in invitation.

Bring the whole family! Fun for all ages!

“There it is.” You say softly, tapping at the paper.

“Huh. Must’a been when they were still payin’ for ad-space. 80-somethin’—” He pats at his pockets, his brow scrunching. “Fuck.”

“What is it?”

“Didn’t bring any smokes.”

Your eyes widen and you jolt up.

“The fuck’s the matter with you?” He frowns.

“I, um, I got these off one of the guys from earlier.” You reach behind you. “They’re your favorite and I—”

Eyes alight, you brandish a box of cigarettes in front of him. They’re Marlboro’s, a bit crumpled from being sat on, but otherwise intact. He plucks them out of your palm, turning the box over in his hands. Flecks of dried blood speckle the label.

When he looks up at you, you’re shifting a bit back and forth on your feet, blinking up at him. He flips the lid open, taking a cigarette out.

“Well, ain’tchu all peaches and cream.” Walking over to a dusty table, he pulls a chair out. Dragging it along the tile, he angles it to face you. Sitting down, he fishes his lighter out of his pocket and offers it to you. “You wanna come light this for me?”

You nod, quickly bridging the gap between the two of you. He rests the cigarette between his lips, watching as you raise the lighter up. After a moment, the flame catches. He lifts his hand, inhaling a mouthful of smoke. Resting the cigarette between his fingers, he glances up at you.

“Put that on the table and c’mere.”

Pulling you down onto his lap, he takes another drag of the cigarette. He slips his hand under your tank top, pushing the hem up to wrap his fingers around your waist. Your skin feels softer today, warmer—he’s not sure if that’s the alcohol muddying his head, but he likes the way it feels under his hand. You hum in contentment, leaning forward to press your lips to his brow, trailing kisses down his nose.

“You wanna tell me what you want?” He asks.

“I don’t…want anything.” You pull back to look at him, tilting your head in confusion.

“Nothin’ at all?” He watches you intently.

“…No.”

“Gettin’ me shit. Kissin’ me like that.” He sighs. “You’re tryin’ to make me sweet on you. It ain’t gonna work.”

“I’m not!” You exclaim, eyes wide with surprise. You drop your voice to a hushed murmur, your eyes flickering down his face and landing on his lips. “Anyway, I don’t want you sweet.”

“You don’t?” He arches a brow, flashing you a bemused smile.

You shake your head slowly, humming out a low sound of dissent.

“Don’t want me treatin’ you nice, huh?” He teases. “Looks like we’re learnin’ all kinds of things about each other today. You wanna tell me what you do like?”

“You.” You don’t miss a beat.

“Uh-huh.” He smirks. “That so?”

“I would’ve gone to your football game.” You blurt out suddenly. “I wanna see you play. I bet you were good.”

“Depends who you ask.”

You play with the neckline of his shirt, dipping your fingers underneath it to stroke at his collarbone. He watches as you fiddle with the buttons on his overshirt, scrunching your brow up in concentration. Halfway down, your fingers worry uselessly at the fabric. You pinch your lips into a pursed frown, peering intently at the machinations of the button-down.

“Need some help there?”

You nod gratefully, dropping your hands from his shirt.

“Somebody’s gotta keep an eye on you.” He laughs. “You don’t know which way’s up, angel.”

“I know a lot of things.” You announce.

“Yeah? Like what?”

“Like…I can’t be that drunk. Because you had the same amount as me.” You widen your eyes at him, your pupils blown out from the alcohol. “And you’re fine.”

“I had more.” He snorts. “Not my fault you can’t handle your liquor.”

“Is that bad?” Your lips twist into a frown.

“You tell me, baby. You feel good?”

You smile at him, giving a small bob of your head in reply.

“Hold this.” He extends the cigarette to you.

He leans back in the chair, unbuttoning the rest of his overshirt. Shrugging it off, he watches as you raise the cigarette to your lips. He indulges you for a minute, resting back in the chair as you blow out a wispy curl of smoke. Reaching forward, he snatches the cigarette out of your hand.

“I was gonna finish that.” You protest. Flicking it onto the floor, he crushes it under the heel of his boot.

“Ain’t lettin’ ya’.” He shakes his head. “It’s a bad habit, baby.”

You open your mouth to argue and he shushes you. Cupping his hand against the back of your neck, he pulls your face towards his. Your mouth tastes like smoke when he kisses you. You run your hands up his chest, resting them on his shoulders.

You’re bold in a way you never are when you’re sober, all hazy and loosened up in his lap. You tug at his bottom lip softly with your teeth when you pull back from the kiss, rocking your hips against him. He raises his hand to your lips, easing your mouth open with his thumb. You lick at the pad of his finger, curving your tongue around it. Reaching up, you wrap your hand around his wrist, swallowing your lips around the tip of his thumb.

“Could get you to do anythin’.” He mutters, watching your eyes fall closed as you suck on it. “Goddamnit, girl.”

He pulls you in again, kissing the side of your face. Your skin tastes like summer, the shimmer of sweat from the sun on your cheek. You’re warm and sweet and close and he’d like more of that on his tongue.

“Think you can make it upstairs?” He asks.

“Yeah.” You smile. “I’m really not that drunk.”

“Sure, baby.”

Up in the bedroom, you lean your back against the faded wallpaper.

Golden rays pierce through the smudged windows, casting long beams of light onto the hardwood floor. When he pulls at the latches, they crack open with a showering of dust. Throwing off the blanket that covers the bed, he tosses it to onto the ground. Sitting down on the edge of it, he undoes the laces of his boots. Setting them on the floor, he inclines his head toward your jeans.

“Take ‘em off.”

You give him a lopsided smile as you work the denim down your hips. He pushes himself back, tucking a stack of pillows behind his head. You step out of your pants, kicking them to the side.

“C’mere.”

If you were sober, he might have a harder time coaxing you onto the bed. As it stands, though, you climb on without protest. He watches as you undo his belt, fidgeting with the fly of his jeans.  He lets you pull him out of his boxers, trailing your fingers up his cock. It’s only when you move to dip your head down that he taps at your knee. 

“Up here, baby.” He motions at you.

You look up at him in confusion. Scooting forward slowly, you watch his face.

“Turn around.”

You bite into your bottom lip and worry with the flesh there. Hesitantly, you turn. Without warning, he pulls you on top of him. You let out a muffled sound of surprise as he readjusts himself a bit, tugging your legs higher. You brace your hands on either side of his thighs, craning your head back to try to look at him.

“What are you—” He drops a kiss on your pussy through the cotton.

“Can taste you through these.” He rumbles out, his mouth pressed against the fabric. “Wet all the way through.”

Despite the warmth of the room, your skin prickles with goosebumps. You let out a shaky breath as he slides his hands up your thighs. You’re so still on top of him, hands flexing against his jeans. He reaches up and eases your panties off, letting them slip down your legs. His eyes slide down to your pussy, the shine of wetness obvious between your folds. He doesn’t touch you yet, pulling your legs further apart to get a better look.

“All this just from kissin’?” Raising his mouth up, he ghosts his breath along your sensitive flesh. “Oh, darlin’.”

He feels you shift slightly, your breath hitching in anticipation. He nudges at your clit with his bottom lip and you gasp.

“Hey, listen to me. I want you to do somethin’ for me.”

“Anything.” The word falls from your lips instantaneously.

“Don’t you cum til’ I say. You feel it, you hold it. You hear me, girl?”

“Yes.” Your voice wafts up to him, shaky and uneven.

“Yes, what?” He grunts when he feels your hand wrap around the base of his cock.

“Yes, daddy.”

“Get your mouth ‘round that dick.”

Your hand strokes up his cock as you lick a broad stripe along the side. Pulling you down onto his mouth, he grazes over your clit, teasing it with the tip of his tongue. Tipping his chin up, he rounds his lips around it in an open-mouthed kiss. You freeze, your hands stilling and your mouth going slack. Your breathing is uneven, your lips hovering over the head of his cock. 

“You forget how to suck dick?” He pulls back, flicking sharply at your thigh with his index finger. “Keep goin’.” 

You drag your tongue around the head of his cock in messy spirals, lapping at the slit with tiny, careful flicks. Bobbing your head, you work your tongue up and down the veins.  

You let out a yelp when he strokes his fingers between your legs, prodding at your entrance. He sinks a finger into you, and you give way easily around him. You arch back gratefully, your moan a dizzying vibration against his cock. When you swirl your tongue up his cock, he adds another finger, curling them inside you. He pumps his fingers into you, feeling your walls clench tightly around them. With a soft mewl, you raise your mouth off his cock. 

“You’re gettin’ distracted, darlin’.” He murmurs. “Stay focused.”

“I’m trying.” You whine against his skin.

“Not hard enough.” He smirks, squeezing at the soft flesh of your thighs.

“Daddy…”

“It’d be a real shame to leave you like this, baby.” He muses. “Figure you wanna cum, huh?”

You keen out your agreement, your breath hot against his skin.

“But you can’t get somethin’ for nothin’.” He sighs, pulling his fingers out of you. “You gotta put the work in, darlin’.”

He feels your body shake as you nod, taking him back into your mouth with a moan. Your lips close around him, and he lets out a sharp exhale through his nose. 

“Now there’s my girl.”

He flattens his tongue against you, licking up your pussy in long, lazy sweeps. Slowly, he drags his tongue onto your clit, lapping against the sensitive bundle of nerves. You tremble on top of him, bowing your head to take him deeper. All those little noises you’re making are vibrating back on his cock, making him pulse hungrily in the wet clasp of your mouth.

Once again, you lose the rhythm you’ve set, your lips falling open. He chuckles, clucking his tongue in disapproval.

“What am I gonna do with you, baby…” Leaning his head back, he reaches up to drag his thumb through your folds, playing with the wetness there. You gasp, your hand trembling around his cock. “Ya’ know, if I didn’t know better, I’d figure you were ‘bout to cum.”

You moan.

“But you wouldn’t, not when I told ya’ to hold it, right?”

“Daddy, please.” Your voice is strained. The desperate edge to your voice has his cock twitching, heat building in his belly.

“Always wantin’ somethin’.” He murmurs. “Little slut.”

You aren’t going anywhere, not with all that blood on your hands. He dips his tongue into you, running his hand up your thigh. You hate him half the time and you hate the killing more. But that’s what makes you like this, leaves you wet and begging and his. You rock back on his tongue, your moan garbled around his cock.

You only hate things that are part of you. You inhale enough smoke and it’ll catch up to you eventually. You can’t take that back.

With a choked sob, you raise your head off his cock, high-pitched, stilted cries falling out of your lips. You desperately try to take him back into your mouth, but your lips shake, panting hot and useless against his skin. Poor thing. Your desire to please him can’t ever match that needy hunger between your legs.

You whine when he withdraws his mouth, violent little tremors racking up your legs and making them shake.

“Gotta ask you somethin’.”  

You kiss up his cock, a broken cry tipping out of your mouth. It’s a sweet gesture, a pretty apology. He’ll forgive you, but he won’t tell you that—it’ll mean less if you know. He rubs at your clit with his thumb, watching you twitch helplessly under his finger.

“You like killin’ for me?” He asks. You tremble, whimpering against his thigh. “Like the way it feels? It make you wet?”

“Yes.” You whisper.

“Then you can cum, baby.” He says, tugging you close again. “You earned it.”

He seals his mouth around your clit and you’re thanking him for it, over and over again. You’re summer on his tongue, salt and skin and that edge of sweetness you only give him when you think he isn’t paying attention. You tense up on top of him, pressing back onto his mouth with a pitched sob. You shudder with a full-body shiver as you cum, the air filling with your moans.

Still shaking, you lean forward to wrap your lips around him with renewed fervor. He grits his teeth. He’s close, closer than he thought, the warmth of your mouth dragging him wildly towards the edge.

“Just like that.” He bites out, digging his fingers tightly into your thighs. “Don’t fuckin’ stop.”

You’re wet, you’re in his mouth, you’re stealing cigarettes off a dead man. He’ll take you to the city with a wallet full of bloodstained cash and you’ll sit on his lap in a bar.

“Goddamnit, girl.” He groans, his jaw tensing up. His hips buck up and you gag, spit dribbling down his cock. You take him deep as he spills in your mouth, swallowing your lips around the base. He grits his teeth as the pleasure rolls through him, dribbling out of him onto your tongue. 

Even as the sensation begins to ebb, you keep him in your mouth, gently sucking around his softening prick. Milking out the rest of his cum, your hands stroke up and down his thighs.

He swallows roughly, wetting his lips. They taste like you.

“That’s good, baby.” He breathes.

You lift your mouth off of him with a satisfied sigh, dropping kisses along his length. With shaky hands, you reach back and pull your panties back into place. Climbing off him gingerly, you turn to face him. You’re starry-eyed and weak, wiping drool off your chin. He opens his arms a bit and you lower yourself down into them.

The sun is slipping away now, hanging low in the sky. He watches the dust motes bounce in the pale gold light. You nuzzle into the crook of his arm, your breathing slow and rhythmic beside him. He’s almost sure you’ve fallen asleep when you raise your head off his chest.

“Did you mean it?” Your expression is pensive.

He could ask you the same thing.

“What?”

“About New Orleans.”

“Yeah.” He laughs, shaking his head. “You get in the truck, I’ll take you right now.”

“You’re not supposed to drink and drive.” You yawn.

"Course, ‘cuz we’re law abidin’ citizens. How’s tomorrow sound?”

Tomorrow, he’d take you back to the house and the days would begin again. There was work to do in the morning, wakes to visit, more glass to sweep up. Sometimes you ask him questions just to see what he’ll say. He never knows what you want him to tell you.

“I’d like that.” You shoot him a tired smile.

It was a nice dream. There wasn’t enough gas in the tank, though. Not enough to get much of anywhere.

“You got it, then.”

#he shouldn't have worn the stupid hat if he was not prepared 4 this #if ur willing to talk the talk. u better be ready 2 walk the walk. #ILY MEG I HOPE U LIKE THIS MWAH MWAH MWAH #house of wax #bo sinclair #bo sinclair x reader #slashers x reader #slasher fandom #x reader #my fics

[parkersbliss]

Hi I request a five x reader were the reader has a mix of black canary’s powers and Wanda maximoff powers love you

i love this character with all my heart now and I love you for requesting this <3333

Good Use | F. Hargreeves

pairing: five hargreeves x reader

wc; 1K

warnings: violence? hate love relationship lmao, sexual innuendo

synopsis: five is just so incredibly insufferable all. the. damn. time.

a/n: I refuse to believe any relationship with five isn’t like this; five is “aged up” in like 16ish cause 13 is weird 👍

requests: CLOSED

Masterlist | Taglist | Prompt list 

—

“The kid wants coffee, black,” Five said with a smug smirk.

You roll your eyes as Five soaks in his pride.

“And you?” The lady asks.

You wave her off. “I’m okay, thanks.”

She just nods, turning to the man beside Five. “Cute kids.”

Five smiles, and you elbow his side when her eyes widen and she backs off. “Cut it out with the smiling. It’s creepy.”

“You think me smiling is creepy?” Five deadpans.

“Terrifying.”

It’s Five’s turn to roll his eyes before he stares down at the counter. “I don’t remember this place being such a shithole. I used to come here as a kid. Used to sneak out with my brothers and sister and eat donuts till we puked. Simpler times, huh?”

You want to smack him upside the head. He looks sixteen for god sake.

The man hesitates with an answer. “I suppose.”

The lady comes back, her name tag reading Agnes, and hands the coffee to Five and the pastry to the man.

“I got his,” The man offers, paying Agnes.

Five blinked in surprise. “Thanks.” His eyes drift towards the man's shirt, “You must know your way around the city.”

The man chuckles. “Hope so. I’ve been driving this for twenty years.”

“Good. I need an address.”

You raise your eyebrows in suspicion before grabbing Five’s coffee and drinking some of it for yourself. The hot liquid runs down your throat, bitter. You can feel Five’s glare at you, but you only shrug before setting the cup down.

The man gives Five the address he was looking for before walking out.

Five takes back his coffee, staring into it and taking another sip.

“Did you want more?” He offers.

“What?” You asked. “Did you poison it in the five seconds you’ve had it?”

Five just scoffs. “You probably poisoned it first.”

“Oh, please,” You sigh. “If I wanted to kill you — and I do — that’s hardly how I’d do it.”

“Let me guess,” Five hums. “You’d slam me up against the wall without even moving a hand.”

You grin. “One of many different ways.”

“I’m starting to see how this whole smile thing is creepy.”

You open your mouth to reply when the door to the shop opens. You and Five remain still as he looks to the bell for the reflection.

“Get ready,” He whispers under his breath.

Four gunmen approach the two of you, the barrels all pointed at your heads.

“Hmm, that was fast. Thought I had more time before they found us,” Five said, facing you.

“Okay, so let’s all be professional about this, yeah?” One of them speaks up. The one on Five’s side. “Both of you, on your feet and come with us. They want to talk.”

“I’ve got nothing to say," Five said as you asked.

“Why don’t you deliver a message for us?”

“It doesn’t have to go this way. Think I want to shoot two kids? Go home with that on my conscience?” He replies.

“Well, I wouldn’t worry about that,” You said absentmindedly, finishing off Five’s coffee, earning a kick from under the table that has you biting your lip.

“You won’t be going home,” Five finishes for you. He grabs a butter knife, disappears into thin air, and reappears by the gunman closest to him, stabbing him in the neck.

The gunman next to you is about to pull his trigger, and you just tilt your head. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

You blink, sending him flying across the room.

“Hey, assholes!” Five calls out, following with a whoosh.

You take that as your cue and crack your neck as gunfire explodes. A ball of energy forms in your hands, and you send it directly at the person to your right before propelling yourself up and grabbing their head, dropping to the ground, and hearing a sickening crack. More bullets fire your way, and you easily block them and send them elsewhere. Out of the corner of your eye, Five salutes behind a glass window and vanishes.

He reappears inside, grabbing the leg of a broken chair and piercing a man as your eyes glow red and you throw another man over the counter and into the donuts. One of the gunmen grabs Five, and you easily deflect a ball of energy his way, and he falls on the table. Five, undoes his tie and wraps it around their neck, yanking hard.

Two more guys come in, and Five shouts at you over the chaos.

“Hey, (Y/N), wanna make some noise?”

You quirk an eyebrow at him, kneeing the guy in front of you and slamming him down on the table.

“Preferably now!” Five shouts, ducking.

“Cover your ears,” You said.

You open your mouth just as Five vanishes. You scream, watching in slow motion as the last of the men fall to the ground. Blood pools from their ears and noses, all the glass in the room shattering.

Five reappears next to you with a smirk. “Putting that mouth to use, huh?”

In one quick motion, you thrust out your hand, and he’s pinned to the wall. He coughs, clawing at nothing as you cross your arms in front of him.

“You are absolutely insufferable,” You seethe.

Five kicks his legs out, choking out a few words. “Same goes for you.”

You wait a few more seconds before releasing your hold, and he falls to the ground, gasping in breaths.

“Next time, I’ll blow your mind,” You whisper down next to him. “I’ll show you putting my mouth to good use.”

Someone groans next to you, and in a few seconds, your boot finds home on their neck after crushing it.

You grab the tie left after Five’s attack, returning in front of him.

Five, now on his feet, raises a questioning eyebrow, and you don’t say anything, just fix it back around him.

He smirks as you step back. “Putting those hands to good use, huh?”

“Shut up.”

#five hargreeves #five hargreeves x reader #five hargreeves x you #five hargreaves x reader #umbrella academy five #tua five x reader #tua x reader #tua #tua fic #tua five #five x you #five x y/n #the unbrella academy #the umbrella academy season 2 #aidan gallagher #five headcanons

[smutinlove]

You were my light (Part 2)

Carl Grimes x Reader

Warnings: A bit angsty, tiny bit of fighting, arguing, carl being a jackass, panic attack, description of panic attack

☽ Author's note☾ Yay! Part 2 is here bitches! And surprisingly it didn't take ten years lmao. Omg. So like this is very depressing. Read at your own risk. Take a damn look at the warnings. ESPECIALLY THE ONES IN ITALICS. DO NOT STEAL, COPY, OR TRANSLATE MY WORK.

Thank you for reading! Reblogs, likes, and comments are very much appreciated!

Part 1

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

≿━━༺❀༻━━≾

Summary - The daughter of the now dead Negan Smith is walking in the woods. She thought she was alone. But she wasn't.

❝ The jokes weren't funny, I took the money My friends from home don't know what to say I looked around in a blood-soaked gown And I saw something they can't take away ❞

≿━━༺❀༻━━≾

You hated that motherless son of a bitch. He was so annoying, smug, and just an asshole in general. Which made you want to kill Carl even more.

Every day, at six in the morning, he'd storm inside your prison and throw a plate of expired food at you, punch you in the face, and then lock you inside. Every. Fucking. Day.

Oh, and that was just the beginning, sometimes he'd feed you dog food.

You were sitting in the same chair, but this time there was a table in front of you. Cause, "Carl is so... nice." You heard the door unlock, expecting it to be Carl.

You said, "Come to feed me more dog food, Carl?" You laughed.

But you were surprisingly wrong. It was a man who looked a lot like Carl. And you most definitely knew this man. "Rick?" You questioned.

"He's been feeding you dog food?!" He asked furiously. You nodded.

He let out a breathy laugh. "I told him not to do that."

"So, you're Negan's daughter. I remember you. I remember that day."

'Negan's daughter.' God, it hurt so fucking bad. Everyone called you 'Negan's daughter.' Of course, sure, the Alexandrians probably didn't even know who you were, but it was the fact that most of your father's minions called you 'The boss' daughter' or 'Negan's daughter.'

"Yeah, I remember you too, Rick. I saw it. How scared you all were. And when my dad killed that Chinaman and that red-headed fool, I felt nothing. So, if that's what you wanna talk about, then done." You said bitterly.

Rick stared at you with a blank expression before moving closer to you. "He's Korean! And his name was Glenn, Glenn Rhee. And that red-headed fool's name was Abraham Ford! And YOU don't get to talk about them like that," he yelled.

He crossed his arms and leaned back against a dirty wall.

"We'll let you stay here. In Alexandria. Just listen to us. Answer what we want you to." You frowned. "Why should I? Huh?"

"You won't survive another minute out there. Carl saved you! We saved you," he shouted. "No! He kidnapped me. He didn't save me at all. And neither did you."

You sighed, "So stop. Just stop, Rick Grimes. You're not helping. I don't wanna stay in this garbage community. It's repulsing!"

"Tell me if you change your mind. Until then, we won't let you out. Not today, not tomorrow."

"How about the day after tomorrow?"

He chuckled but didn't speak any further. He left, locking the door after.

≿━━༺❀༻━━≾

You were getting bored of staring at the same grey walls. "Fuck!" You shouted.

You grabbed your chair and threw it at the wall, which did not make a difference as the chair instead broke.

You laughed and threw your head back. Of course, it had to break.

And now your back was against the cold floor, you brought your knees up to your chest. "Happy, happy, happy..." You whispered to yourself.

"Daddy loves you, Y/N."

"No, no. Stop..." You cried out.

Blood, sweat, tears, starve.

Jokes, money, friends, gone. Dead.

Around, soaked gown, cry, scream.

You're on your own, kid.

You always have been.

Face it. Face it. Tell them. Tell them you're—

"Stop! No. Stop, I can't—" You're heart was racing, and sweat dripped down your forehead, maybe you were dying, you were too young, your hands were trembling, "No, no—" You couldn't breathe, it only meant one thing.

"No! Stop, no. No! Stop it!" You screamed over and over.

"Daddy loves you, Y/N."

"No, you don't!" You yelled repeatedly.

You blinked rapidly, but you felt like giving in. Sleep, die. Sleep, die. Sleep, die.

You heard the door open, or maybe it was your imagination. Yeah, that's it. Right? Nothing more. Nothing less. Nothing special.

You were a fucked up little girl.

≿━━༺❀༻━━━━≾

"She's waking up! Doc," You tried sitting up, but someone stopped you. "Hey, take it easy, sweetheart."

What even happened? I don't know...

What?

You looked around the room. You were in a rather uncomfortable bed. The walls were painted a disgusting shade of green.

"No," you groaned. Your eyes were met with another. A singular blue eye. Fuck, it's him. "Damnit, it's—"

"—Me. Surprised, Y/N?" He chuckled.

≿━━༺❀༻━━━━≾

So, you had a panic attack. It was not much of a surprise to you, but it was to Carl. "Wow, I knew you were fucked up in the head, but panic attacks too?"

You felt a bit ashamed. So much was done for you, and you didn't even deserve all this 'protection and care.' "Just cause you're a total mess doesn't mean I immediately care about you. I hate you." He confessed. You smiled.

"Why are you smiling?" He asked curiously.

You grabbed the glass vase. It was to your right. You jammed it in Carl's arm, making him scream in pain and fall back. "You fucking bitch!"

...

Part 3?

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