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ellieslaces · 1 day
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KISSING LESSONS.
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featuring: hazel callahan x fem!cheerleader!reader
synopsis: Hazel’s worst decision was to join her friend’s fight club, until she met you. or, really got to know you, she knew you, you just didn’t know her. she never thought a cheerleader, much less one of the prettiest girls in the school, would ever pay attention to her. until you did.
content warnings: harsh language; mentions of violence; internalized homophobia; light smut; kissing (wlw); so much loser lesbianism; some homophobic slang (faggot, munch)
notes: mentions of violence (duh, it’s lesbian fight club); mentions of reader being bisexual (more toward women tho); homophobic slang (faggot, munch, etc) ; there is no real smut in this as i do not write explicit content containing minors.
word count: 3.13k
chloe talks: watched bottoms and then hyperfixated on Hazel for two weeks before I decided to write this. God, I need her so bad. Chloe has a type doesn’t she? (soft mascs make me hhnngg). hazels so fucking cute I need her to kiss me ok bye. <3 (also, I hate the way this turned out, I’m so sorry it’s terrible)
now playing: kissing lessons ; lucy dacus
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Fight Club — a popular 1990’s film, that’s all those two words had ever meant to you. You’d never even seen the film, you just knew it was fucking gay, despite it not actually being about the hot topic of homosexuality amongst young men (or women, in your case). But, I digress.
It had been your friends, Isabel and Brittany, who managed to get your ass to attend your school’s resident Fight Club. A women’s Fight Club. How fucking gay. Oh well, it would teach you how to defend yourself properly. Which, in this day and age — or any day and age of we’re honest — is horribly necessary.
It shouldn’t be, but knowing how to beat the shit out of a grown man is something you should know how to do. Self defense isn’t a topic to be taken lightly, and it seemed PJ and Josie knew this.
PJ and Josie — or faggot #1 and faggot #2 as the school knew more endearingly — where the school’s resident ‘ugly and untalented gays’, as Jeff and his little crew liked to say. Really, you suspected they were all just pissed because the girls knew their way around a pussy better than any of them did. They wouldn’t know the clit if it slapped them in the face.
It had been about two weeks into the girls’ club that Isabel and Britany attended for the first time. They showed up to cheer practice the following day with busted lips and bruised faces. At first, you hadn’t known what happened. Maybe Jeff’s dramatics had finally gotten the better of him. But no, they had willingly gotten beaten up for the sake of learning how to better throw a punch.
Finally, after hours upon hours of begging and pleading, Britany and Isabel got you to attend a meeting. You had walked in, nerves wrecking your body as you trailed unsurely behind the two girls you considered your best friends. You trusted them, they wouldn’t let something bad happen.
You had planned to spend your first meeting simply observing, but PJ tried so hard to convince you to join in. She almost even pushed you into the fucking ring. When you finally conceded, you were face to face with Hazel Callahan.
You knew of her, but you didn’t know her. You’d passed her a few times in the hall, you had a science class with her. Jeff said she was another one of those ‘loud mouth munches’ — to which you nearly punched him square in the nose had he not been Isabel’s boyfriend and a complete moron.
Hazel seemed nice, she’d smiled in your direction when you walked into the gym. It was a nice gesture, no matter the awkward air it held. You felt sort of bad for putting her in the situation she was in, even though it was PJ’s fault that she now had to fight you.
You stood awkwardly, fists raised in a defensive position, eyes on Hazel as she stood in front of you. She smiled again, still awkward as it had been when you walked in. You were set on not getting the shit beat out of you.
As soon as PJ’s whistle sounded, you barely gave Hazel a chance to move. She’d shifted on her feet, sending a spark of fear through you, causing you to send a punch straight to her face. You’d gasped, watching her face scrunch up as her own hands flew up to cup her nose.
“Oh my God, I’m so fucking sorry.” You cried, stepping forward, ignoring the claps and cheers falling obnoxiously from PJ’s lips.
Hazel let out a choked laugh, brows raised as she held her nose. “No uh, nice hit. Fuck, that was a good one.” She blinked rapidly, momentarily lowering her hands.
You let out a small squeak as you saw that her nose was indeed bleeding. “Shit, your nose.” You stepped forward again, trying to find something to stop the bleeding. But of course, there wasn’t anything you had on you.
“Alright, Hazel’s fine. Let’s move on.” PJ droned, giving her whistle another sharp blow — she really abused her whistle privileges, you thought as you ushered Hazel toward the bleachers.
Hazel gave a thumbs up — her hand covered in blood that dripped from her nose — as she walked toward the bleachers. No one seemed to notice other than you as you walked with her. You felt so bad, so terrible because now this girl was bleeding because of you.
“I’m sorry,” you weakly apologized again, sitting in front of her on the bleachers, looking frantically around for something to give her to stop the bleeding.
“It’s okay, I’m okay.” Hazel shook her head, trying to convince you she was fine. Even though you both knew she wasn’t.
“Uh fuck, there isn’t anything — don’t do that.” You’d cut yourself off quick, voice deadpanned.
Hazel paused, her head half leaning backward as she looked over in your direction. Her ringed fingers pinched the bridge of her nose — it seemed she’d had the idea to lean her head back to stop the bleeding.
“Lean your head forward, not backward. If you go backwards, the blood could go into your lungs. Go forward and let it drip out.” You instructed, pulling her hand down gently by her wrist, moving to take off your cardigan so she could hold it below her face to catch the blood as it dripped.
“How do you know that?” Hazel questioned, brows pulled in a frown as she leaned her face forward so the blood could freely drip from her nose onto the bundle of fabric in her hands.
“I had to get a certificate to be able to babysit.” You shrugged, moving the strands of hair from her face without thinking about it. When you’d realized what you’d done, you froze, dropping your hand in embarrassment, muttering a sad ‘sorry’ again.
Hazel shook her head, not responding verbally to your millionth apology. Your cheeks warmed, suddenly so embarrassed for an entirely different reason. Not just for punching Hazel square in the nose, but you’d managed to embarrass yourself by noticing just how pretty she was.
Hazel sat on the bottom row of the bleachers in the gym, watching the rest of the group fight each other in turns, different girls winning. Some had busted lips, others a myriad of bruises spattered across their faces.
You took the time to notice just how pretty Hazel was — a sharp jawline that would make Jeff jealous, brunette hair that mussed in just the right way and looked so goddamn soft, her nose that was long and straight save for the small bump in the bridge that made your throat constrict. God, she really was a sight. How hadn’t you noticed sooner?
Maybe it was the fact that Hazel wasn’t in your social circle. You were a cheerleader, friends with Isabel and Britany, the focus of stares. Hazel was a loser — in the kindest and most endearing way — someone who wasn’t popular. Someone who had hardly any friends. And despite the fact that today was maybe the third time in your entire life you’d ever spoken to her, you wanted to be one of her friends.
A quick, sharp quip of PJ’s whistle brought you back to the present, her loud voice announcing the day’s session was over. You blinked, looking away from Hazel. Who somehow didn’t seem to notice you’d just spent the past five or so minutes just studying her face.
She turned to you, eyes apologetic as she held out your crumpled cardigan in her hands. “It’s really bloody, sorry.”
“No, it’s okay. You can keep it,” you shook your head, holding out your hand. It was only after the words came out of your mouth that realized how stupid that sounded. “I mean, it’s just, you don’t have to give it back. I don’t like it that much anyways. And it’ll probably stain. That sounds bad, I’m sorry.”
Hazel smiled a little at your words that seemed to stumble out of your mouth. You regretted every single one of them. You moved to take the cardigan anyway, acting as if you hadn’t told her to just keep it. But she pulled it back.
“I’ll wash it.” She said simply, standing. There were specks and smears of dried blood on and below her nose. You felt another pang of guilt then, seeing that your punch would definitely cause a bruise across her nose.
“Oh, you don’t have to do that.” You shook your head, standing as well. Isabel and Britany stood a few feet away, clearly waiting for you to come over. You didn’t want to though, for some reason.
“It’s fine. I’ll see you at the next meeting right?” Hazel asked, not relenting and continuing to hold the cardigan in her hands as she started to back away.
“Uh, yeah, I guess so.” You shrugged, somewhat embarrassed. You didn’t really want to come back. Not since you’d punched Hazel and made her bleed on your first meeting. But, maybe this would be a good incentive to come back. To see her.
“Cool,” Hazel grinned, nodding in your direction before she walked toward where PJ and Josie stood. You remained sentient for a moment, hands folded in front of your lap as you watched Hazel.
“Jesus, you hit hard.” Isabel’s voice rang in your ears as she and Britany approached, the latter’s eyes wide as she looked at your hand.
“Might want to wash your hands,” the girl motioned to your dominant hand — the knuckles were spotted in blood from where you’d punched Hazel and blood had immediately started to pour from her nose.
Your eyes latched onto the specks of blood on your knuckles, brows creased as you stared. Bright, rusty red adorned the skin of your knuckles, bits of Hazel Callahan’s DNA there. It was strange, but it made you smile.
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The attendance of the fight club had steadily grown — girls coming to the gym after school to brush up on their combat skills. All in preparation for the upcoming football game against Huntington. The fear ever since one girl had gotten attacked by one of the boys and word had gotten around about it.
So, attendance had spiked, the ‘female solidarity’ — as PJ liked to call it — had risen in the school, even the girls were kinder and nicer to one another. And your mind was muddled with constant pictures and thoughts of Hazel Callahan.
It was confusing — you’d never felt such a strong connection to someone you hardly knew. Hazel was as much a mystery to you as the rest of the ‘ugly, untalented gays’. Meaning she was a huge fucking mystery. Sure, you were vaguely aware that her parents had divorced, and that the girl mostly kept in the background in school. But other than that, Hazel was purely mysterious to you. And you found yourself wanting to know more.
To remedy thhs, you continued to attend fight club, naturally. Yes, you shared a class or two with the girl, but nowhere else did you have the chance to actually interact with her. To converse with her, hear her voice, see her smile. God, what a loser you were.
It wasn’t until two weeks later that you’d come to realize how disgustingly and embarrassingly obvious your infatuation with Hazel was. And what made it worse — it was PJ who brought it to your attention.
“Yo!” PJ’s obnoxious voice rang through the gym as you stood in the circle with the rest of the girls, watching Silvia and Brittany spar, your name on the girl’s lips as she spoke. “Quick eye-fucking Hazel and pay attention! Huntington is like, two weeks away.”
Your cheeks flamed a bright red as you sunk into yourself, shoulders curling in. God, you wanted a chance at PJ in that ring to strangle the fuck out of her for that. Your eyes quickly cut over to where Hazel stood — her own cheeks dusted with light pink as she avoided your gaze.
Great, now she probably wouldn’t talk to you at all. Fuck PJ and her obnoxious, loud mouth. Your embarrassment was not short lived as the fight club went on. You couldn’t look in Hazel’s direction at all as you waited out the meeting until its end so you could retreat with your tail between your legs and never show your face in this gym again.
It was as you shouldered your backpack, heart still racing, stomach still uneasy with embarrassment that you heard someone clear their throat behind you. You turned, eyes going wide as you were face to face with Hazel. Your eyes trailed down to a bundle of fabric in her hands.
“Sorry it took so long, but uh, I got the blood out.” She held out what turned out to be your cardigan. The cardigan that you’d leant her two weeks ago when you’d punched her too hard.
“Um, you didn’t have to do that.” You said, offering a sheepish smile as she held out the cardigan. You gingerly took it, eyes locked on Hazel’s face. As you grabbed it, you swore you could feel a spark when your fingers brushed against hers. A fucking spark — cliche but true.
It was silent between you two for a moment before Hazel shook her head, jutting her thumb over her shoulder. “Sorry about PJ. Things kind of come out of her mouth without her brain processing first.”
Yikes, Hazel meant the ‘eye-fucking’ comment. You offered a small, horribly obvious chuckle. “Yeah, I kinda noticed.”
There was another long stretch of silence between you and Hazel, your lips pulled to the side as you held the folded — she’d fucking folded it, Jesus she was adorable — cardigan in your hands. It was strange, but not too uncomfortable. Like that stupid thing from Pulp Fiction, the right person is someone that silence isn’t awkward with.
“I wasn’t eye-fucking you.” You blurted. Great, you made it awkward again. A small groan fell from your lips, head dropping as you closed your eyes with a frown. You shook your head. “Sorry, I dunno what’s wrong with me today.”
“PJ’s just jealous.” Hazel offered with a small laugh. How could one solidarity laugh sound so beautiful?
“Of what?” You asked gingerly, looking up to meet her eyes. For some reason, you were weary of her answer.
“That you aren’t giving her attention. Besides, I don’t think she’d know what to do with your attention anyway, you’re so pretty.” She said it not as an insult to PJ — or at least it didn’t sound like it — but more as an obvious fact. And you were stunned because Hazel had just called you pretty.
You were at a loss. A true loss. How the hell were you supposed to respond to that? So, like an idiot, you just stared at her blankly, eyes confused and wide.
Her own eyes went wide, brows furrowed as a worried look crossed her features. “Shit, was that too much? Too much. Fuck.” Her voice lowered as she cursed, brows knit together.
“No! Not too much, I just… I just didn’t think you thought I was pretty too.” You shrugged, quick to correct her. Quick to reassure that you were flattered and not weirded out.
“I mean yeah, of course I do.” Hazel nodded, her voice soft, words intentional like her statement was an obvious fact.
A smile spread across your face, cheeks warm again. You weren’t sure why, but you suddenly felt so much about Hazel. You’d never had a crush on a girl before. It was new and strange, but you definitely thought this was a crush.
“Thanks.” You whispered, eyes darting down to the cardigan in your hands for a moment before going back to looking up at Hazel. “For the compliment, and bringing back my cardigan. You didn’t have to wash it.”
“It’s fine, I wanted to. It’s a nice cardigan.” Hazel shrugged. It seemed she was at a loss for what to say around you too.
The gym was near empty by now — Josie and PJ chattering away in the far corner, and Isabel and Brittany waiting for you (but not paying attention to anyone but themselves) by the gym doors a few feet away.
So, due to the empty state of the gym and the disgustingly thick tension between you and Hazel, you stepped forward, pressing a quick and gentle kiss to her cheek.
This took the girl by surprise. Her eyes went wide as your lips pressed to her soft cheek. You leaned back, her brows creased as she watched you.
“Thanks,” you said again, with a shrug. Letting her know that was your way of thanking her. Small, but meaningful to you.
It was a long moment that you stood there, Hazel staring at you with wide eyes. For a couple of long seconds, you thought you’d fucked up. Misread the situation, mistook the tension for something else. But, you were proven wrong as she leaned forward, closing the distance between you by pressing her mouth to yours.
“You’re welcome.” She murmured as she leaned back, your eyes wide now from processing that Hazel had just kissed. That you’d just had your first girl-kiss. Fucking scary, but nice. You liked it. Liked her.
“I’ve never done that.” You whispered, blinking rapidly to ground yourself. “With, with a girl, I mean.” You corrected yourself almost instantly.
You’d kissed a guy or two before. Sadly, your first ever kiss was Tim at the ninth grade freshman dance. He was a bad kisser and you hated it. But, you liked how Hazel kissed. Despite it being a quick peck, it was full of intention and it was gentle too.
Hazel shrugged, a small half smile forming on her lips. “Maybe I can give you lessons.”
You grinned, laughing a little as you nodded, backing away toward the gym doors, needing to escape before you said anything else stupid. “Yeah, that’d be nice. I’ll send you my address.”
“Okay,” Hazel nodded, grinning widely to herself as you mentioned her coming over.
You almost skipped as you walked out of the gym, trailing behind Isabel and Brittany as the girls chittered away, the prospect that Hazel would be giving you fucking kissing lessons. You held the bundle of fabric close to your chest as you walked to your car. And it was then you noticed it smelled like Hazel. The detergent, obviously. But, there was something else that was just Hazel. And you never wanted it to go away. Maybe, you could wear it while she gave you kissing lessons that night.
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2023 ©️ellieslaces please do not repost, rewrite, translate, or submit my work to AI or any other platform. please support your creators by reblogging, liking, and following!
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ellieslaces · 11 days
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dbf!abby make brain go brrrrrrrrr 😵‍💫🫨😪🧎‍♀️
dads best friend!abby scenario cause why the hell not.
cw: sexual themes mdni, age gap, abby’s a cocky but charming asshole, power dynamics-ish? : ・ෆ・┈・┈・ᕱ⑅ᕱ・┈・┈・ෆ・ :
— "Oh and honey? Doctor Anderson's coming over for dinner" Everything felt oppressively hot and everything felt impossibly tight. The food seared your tongue, humid steam rising from the vegetables on your plate causing your throat to constrict and your eyes to sting with tears. Your right hand was clenched in a tight fist, left hand gripping your fork like it might grow legs and run away if you let go of your grasp. Your tights were itching relentlessly, tank top strap kept sliding off of your shoulder and built itself a home down your arm. Your lipgloss felt too sticky and your palms too clammy, you felt agitated, uncomfortable and way too goddamn nervous.
You felt consumed.
You didn’t know why.
Sure, Doctor Anderson was attractive, with palms twice bigger than yours. She wore a tight fitted muscle tee that had you squinting then turning your head around fast enough to crack your neck, noticing a goddamn six pack poking through maroon fabric. And yeah, she had an intoxicating scent of pine and wood and a hint of pepper that made your eyes nearly roll back inside of your skull, voice silky smooth, thighs firm and muscular, eyes icy blue, a smile that made you melt and all that stupid jazz,
but none of these things were a good enough explanation to why you were feeling this way — dazed, stupid, all bothered.
She sat down on the dinner table’s leather chair in a manspread as if she owned the place, and her thighs bulked up even more, veins of her arms becoming more prominent. She always knew what to say, and when you cracked a joke about orthopedic surgeons she cheekily told you to “watch it” — which made you thickly gulp and sheepishly smile down to the floor like your idol from age thirteen just told you they want to marry you and have you forever.
You needed an ice bath, but she also wouldn’t stop goddamn looking at you, even when you made it clear that eye contact with the surgeon, your father’s best friend, was a task that you apparently couldn’t manage to complete.
Her look made you nervous, and when she narrowed her eyes you nearly choked on a carrot, and when your father asked you “What’s wrong, kid?” you couldn’t even answer because what was wrong — was that you had to cross your legs together cause of some aching down there, and what was wrong is that his best friend made you feel like you were losing your mind at 9pm with a fork glued to your palm.
So you lied.
“M’just... tired, I guess” you murmured, then fake yawned, then internally cringed at yourself for performing the worlds fakest goddamn yawn.
“Already?” he voiced, shifting his gaze towards a visibly amused Abby. “Quite the night owl, that one... usually”
"What can I say, dad, loooong day" answered you, with a syrupy voice she wanted to stick her fingers inside and lick.
Abby chuckled, then smirked at you even though the response wasn’t directed at her. Then, she looked over to your father who was gnawing on some overcooked steak.
“She’s a kid, needs to get her sleep”
You scoffed, which made doctor Anderson poke the inside of her cheek with her tongue. “What...?” she murmured cockily, cracking a toothy grin. Your tights felt tight again, glued to your hot flesh, then you realized why they fucking call them tights because dammit they really are tight.
“I'm not a kid, can, y’know... drink, and stuff. Plus... M'busy, with... College"
You sounded like a damn idiot. All Abby did was chuckle and tilt her head back slightly, leaning further back in her chair.
“T'aw, I know, What'ryou studying again? Fashion science?”
You scoffed, crossing your arms. That bitch.
"Sorry I don't wanna go to medical school and spend seven years of my life sticking my hands down a corpse"
So you didn’t go to your room after that, caught up in a whirlwind of proving a point. You stayed stubbornly with your feet glued to the floor and listened to Abby and your father ramble and yap on about work shenanigans. Usually, you’d semi doze off at this point, go on your phone and occasionally throw a snarky remark, but this was different. She was different than any of his other friends. Abby was actually funny, she didn’t brag too much, and if she did it faded quick cause she really was that good.
Abby threw a reference to a book you thought no one else had read except for you. You timidly lifted your gaze and remarked, “Oh, i read that book, actually”
Abby smiled and flattened her hands on the wooden table. “Smart cookie, huh? Did you like it?”
You batted your eyelashes like a kitten seeking more strokes at the praise, not noticing that body language of yours.
But she did.
You talked about the book for a solid ten minutes. Your father was the one, surprisingly, to go on his phone and faux-snort when he felt excluded from the conversation ran by two intellectuals and a giant elephant who goes by the name of "Tension", in the middle of the room.
Abby made you laugh and she made you think and she listened to your anecdotes. It made you buzz with electricity, and it made you yearn for her attention.
it also made her long for yours.
Your father interrupted by showing Abby a picture from work. When her eyes lowered to his phone, she shot you a lingering gaze and a smirk. You, feeling a rush of heat to your cheeks, shyly looked away.
It was tight everywhere all over again.
So they talked more about work, Abby’s patients, their coworkers, Doctor Martha’s chicken pot pie, Doctor Johnson’s bizarre antics, the glass door no one bothered on calling to be fixed, blah blah blah, an endless stream of chatter.
And you listened, you listened with rapt attention, every ounce of your focus aimed at the prospect of another one-on-one conversation with Abby. Each time the older woman casted you with a quick glance, you flushed even harder. You waited, and waited and waited but your father was a blabber mouth, and you were oh so impatient,
you began mindlessly kicking the wooden table's legs.
Your sock-covered feet shifted restlessly from side to side, then you tucked them beneath your chair and resumed kicking, the movements gaining force. You curled your toes and continued to play with the table's handles. Abby winced, but you didn’t pay her any mind. You kicked again, with more force now.
You sighed.
Abby cleared her throat, and her cheeks suddenly bore a faint crimson blush. You couldn't help but notice, hm, must be the red wine finally catching on to her form. Ignoring, you kicked again, and the doctors back straightened and she stiffened in response. Your father asked her a question, and Abby… stammered.
“Yeah, that guys… uh— yeah”
You rested your chin on your hands and lightly tapped your fingertips against your cheeks thrice.
Then you kicked again, harder, you were bored and restless, waiting, give me some attention, Abby —
And then, you felt a pair of shoes encase your feet, ankles creating a cage around yours. It was then and only then that you had the startling realization: you hadn't been kicking the table at all. Instead, you had been unknowingly engaged in a game of footsies beneath the table with a goddamn world class surgeon.
And oh god did you want to die.
And oh god did abby sport a shit eating grin on her face that only you seemed to catch.
You froze, not even able to release your feet from her iron like grip. Unmistakably, she didn’t seem to release her grip either. So she kept them there, caged and locked.
“Alright,” your father sighed and cleared his throat. “Got some cuban cigars in the yard, shall we?” he gestured towards Abby, who was still holding your feet in her tight grasp.
“Yeah, go ‘head, I’ll just clear the table” she murmured absentmindedly. So kind and polite, huh?
You father chuckled and tapped abby on her shoulder, as he rose from his sit and straightened his back. “Nah, let the kid handle it”
Abby shot you a glance. Your pupils were dilated and your chest heaved rapidly up and down.
“She's not a kid, remember?”
Abby let go of your feet and you rose from the chair with such haste, you nearly had whiplash. When you lifted your plate, staying mute, looking like a deer caught in headlights as your father paced towards the yard, Abby gazed at you, and her eyebrow arched up in utter amusement.
“You uh, play soccer, by any chance?” quipped her, crossing her arms on her firm hard muscly chest.
You gulped.
“Huh?”
Abby lifted her wine glass to her lips, taking a sip that left a glistening sheen on her bottom lip. A chuckle escaped her.
“Jus’, y’know… with all the kicking, and everything. I mean, take a girl out for a drink before you do all that, yeah?”
You stood in shock, you didn’t speak, didn’t mutter a word, merely humming in response. Abby grabbed the plates from your hand, and then she grabbed the salt.
She furrowed her eyebrows and huffed. “M'just ’joking, smart cookie. If you wanna play, let's play"
Then you heard your father’s voice down the hall.
“Sweetheart?” he paced closer as Abby walked towards the sink. He leaned over the wall,
“forgot to mention it to you but, Abby’s staying over for the weekend”
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ellieslaces · 11 days
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what’s the phrase?… save a horse ride a cowboy 🧎‍♀️🫣
Gotcha
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Bounty Hunter/Cowboy!Leon S. Kennedy x outlaw!fem!reader
Warnings: smut, feelings (of regret) (and slight yearning), oral sex (f receiving), vaginal sex, fucking against metal bars. 16+ because I was you once just don’t be weird
Ummm I wrote this last year in, like, March? I posted and finished it December, though (yikes) with that being said I’m sorry if the writing is…I suppose questionable? Yeah, sure, questionable. On ao3 here if you prefer that site. Not proofread btw.
oh, right, reader’s outlaw name is ‘ranger’ but it’s mentioned once. I was inspired by Leon’s Arthur Morgan mod but you can imagine him in any outfit, all that’s mentioned is that he wears a leather hat (I think). cowboy Leon is the reason I keep on going, thanks.
tumblr is a scary, new place for me. Please be kind😱
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The sound of the horse's feet running in the desert sand fills the hollow night. Gunshots and gunpowder making Leon’s nostrils flare, the metallic smoke filling up his lungs uncomfortably.
Close. He’s so fucking close. 
You stop your horse and bolt for the abandoned  bank you robbed just a month prior and wait . It’s hot and cold, a thin layer of sweat coating your skin as you try to keep your breathing still. The weight of your revolver is the only thing that feels remotely natural, the only thing that reminds you that you have at least some control.
His horse blows and grunts as it comes to a halt, a cloud of sand threatening his vision until he bats it away. The swinging door of the bank creaks along with the wooden floorboards of each step he takes.
You can hear him grow closer, the spurs on his boots jingling—a warning, a taunt. He’s got you, and had it not been from how fucking tired you were, you would’ve kept going.
“There’s not much use in hidin’ anymore,” Leon’s gruff voice breaks the low whistling wind, “Think we both know the only way you’re getting outta here is in cuffs or in a rug dragged across the sand.”
You hold in a scoff, the bandana muffling your steadying breath. Hiding behind the wall, you hear his steps come and go, small curses falling from under his breath and muttering you can’t put together. 
After a moment of silence, you muster up the courage to peek around the corner. A mistake. 
“Gotcha.” His cowboy hat casts a dark shadow across his face, the dim moonlight barely making the whites of his eyes visible. His own revolver is pointed to your head, the reflecting metal almost blinding — another taunt to your capture. 
“Kennedy.” You speak through gritted teeth, sour and bitter as you say his name.
“Ranger.” A humorless chuckle escapes his lips, “Not one day goes by that I don’t get sick of hearin’ that name. Can’t even get a beer without a sad sap waiting to tell their story about encountering you.”
“Good to know I’m on your mind at least. Hadn’t seen you in sometime, thought you died.” You watch as his hand tightens around the grip of his gun, his index finger sliding towards the trigger. 
“I’m not gonna die before I catch you, or kill you. One or the other.” He rolls his eyes as he watches you point the gun to his leg, “Put that down before I blow your brains out. The sheriff’ll get mad at me for the mess.”
“I think he’d be happier if you killed me, really.”
“Maybe, but I think they’d rather kill you themselves, and slower.” A sigh leaves you as you drop your revolver to the floor, not bothering to put your hands up because, well, there’s no use for it. “Back up. Don’t need you gettin’ any ideas. Get in the vault.” 
The vault? He doesn’t give you time to protest, taking a step forward so his gun grazes your forehead, “Fuck, alright, I get it .” 
You back into the vault, the metal bars making it your makeshift jail. He closes the door shut, watching you through the spaces between the bars and giving you an annoying smug smirk, “Look at that . Behind bars is a natural look on you. Can’t believe it’s taken this long.”
Leon takes a walk around, finding the key and locking the ��jail’. Convenient. “Y’wanna start by telling me why you’ve been doing this? They’re gonna get it outta you anyway, best to let it out now. A pretty face ain’t gonna getcha freedom.”
“Pretty?” You muse.
“Shut up.” He scoffs.
“I don’t think my reason would really make a difference.”
His eyebrows furrow, “Maybe not, but every outlaw has some kind of story to tell.”
You slump against the back wall of the vault, letting out a small groan as your hand runs your face. If you’re going to get locked up and eventually hung, you guess it wouldn’t hurt for at least one person to know the truth. He’s not…the best person but out of everyone else, maybe he is. “My family. Dead broke. Needed the money.” 
He stares at you for a moment before laughing, gripping one of the metal bars as he snickers, “you really expect me to believe that? If I wouldn’t let a bastard cheat me in poker, I’m not gonna have you cheat me now.” 
“‘M not cheating you for anything, I gotta family at home. Mouths to feed, debts to pay, shit to do.”
“That’s a real shitty thing, lying about your family like that.” He grumbles, looking at you like ‘lying’ was worse than all the money you’ve stolen. The lives you threatened.
This man’s priorities seriously needed to be straightened out. You pull down your bandana and toss it to the side as you get comfortable on the floor, the bank door’s small creaks making the night all the more eerie. 
When you look up, he’s still staring at you. His lips are curled into a slight snarl and, had it not been for the bars, he might’ve lunged at you.
Leon’s wondering what your game is, he knows what you do when you lie—how you look away from him and take a step back and your lip always twitches without fail—you’re not doing any of that. “Even if you did do it to keep your family afloat, what about the rest of the people you wronged?”
“What, the rich? They don’t give a damn about us, why should I give a damn about them?”
“I’m talkin’ about the public robberies. Like the train robbery down in Georgetown, or the bank in Laredo, those were all big jobs, you tellin’ me those were victimless crimes? Bullshit. There’s oughta be a casualty.”
“If there was a casualty, it wasn’t from me. I’ve never fired a gun at an innocent.”
He scorns, “but you’ll fire a gun at the people tryna protect the innocents.” 
“None of them are dead, are they? They’re at home with their families not needing to worry about eatin’.”
He feels conflicted, because fuck if you’re telling the truth then he feels like an asshole all those times he’s almost killed you. A family. You have children, a husband, maybe, unless he’s dead—is that why you’re doing this?—And he’s fought with you more than he can remember. He sniffles, wiping the corner of his mouth with his thumb and shaking his head, “how old are your kids?”
It was your turn to chuckle, “i don’t have kids. Well, sort of, if you include takin’ care of my siblings.”
Guess he got it wrong. He doesn’t know if he feels better or worse, his stomach churns at the thought of your younger siblings waiting for you to come home just to never return. Never to know if you died or ran away. No, he’s sure they’d figure out you died, if you were doing this for them, why would you leave them? God he needs a drink. “You don’t gotta momma or daddy or what?” 
“My momma’s sick. Daddy’s gone.” You shrug as if it’s nothing, maybe it is nothing to you but it’s everything to him. He hates that he’s so easily swayed. You being fine with this should tell him this is a lie but— 
But what? He doesn’t know. You’re a criminal that has added unnecessary stress to the public, even have other outlaws mad at you for taking their money. It’s simple as to what he needs to do.
“Doesn’t matter, I’m sure after your first three robberies you woulda had enough money to feed a church for the next 5 years. Didn’t need all of that, that’s just fucking greed.”
“I don’t keep all of it. I give it to people like me. Too many families have lost their kids just because they couldn’t feed ‘em for a week. Bet they don’t tell you that, though, do they?” 
He knows better. He knows that he knows better. This is a lie, he’s the law, he needs to uphold the law, no exceptions. No hesitation. “So, what? You’re a modern day Robin Hood?”
“If I say yes will you shut the fuck up?” 
“If you tell me the truth I will.” 
“Mother fucker— I am. You have a gun, have me in a fucking vault, I’m unarmed say for my knife, but I’ll give it to you if it’ll shut you up. what do I have to gain from this shit? You’ve caught up people for way less, I don’t have shit up my sleeve to leave.”
A moment passes, and suddenly? He hates himself.
“God damnit.” He curses under his breath, turning his body away as he groans. He can still hear the horses outside, can hear the wind chiming, playing a small song. You keep quiet, watching him pace back and forth once before pinching the bridge of his nose. “‘M gonna fuckin’ regret this.” He mumbled to himself, putting in the key and swinging the metal door open. 
He shifts to the side, motioning with his head, “Go. Get. Leave.”
“What’re you doing, Kennedy?”
His lips press into a fine line as he exhales through his nose, “What kinda man would I be if I took you away from them when I had the chance to save you?” He sighs, “They need you. God knows no one else will give a damn.”
You hesitate, you don’t know why—you should’ve ran as soon as the key went in the damn hole. You grab your bandana you threw off earlier, wrapping it around your neck with a curt nod. “Thank you.”
He doesn’t meet your gaze, a small frown on his face before he speaks, “yeah, yeah, just turn your ass around before I find a reason to lock you up again.”
You tip your hat to him, walking out of the vault. Your spurs are the one to jingle this time. 
“ ‘sides, I always did like the back of you.” 
You planned to keep going. You really fucking did.  
When you turned around, your bodies were only two feet away. You swore you walked further from him but honestly, you couldn’t tell anymore. “Those are dangerous words you’re playing with.”
His back straightens and he peers down at you, “Are they?”
“You’re a confusing man, Kennedy.”
“I don’t remember telling you I was simple.”
You tut, “Haven’t you made enough mistakes already?”
He has, he knows it. The first damn mistake he’s made was making it a point to try and capture you. A year and 4 months he’s spent on this–on you. But, really, what bad would one last mistake do? He’s already made so many, it’ll just be another bullet to his chamber. He takes a step closer, chests nearly touching as his hands twitch to grab you, feel you without the mission of needing to hurt you and take you in. “I’d say not enough.”
All those times during his chase he could’ve gotten close, on top of you, felt your breath against his as you cornered one another. He hasn't, and he’s tired of letting it sit at bay. Learning a new side of you made him crazy. Crazier. 
God is he an idiot.
Your breaths fill the tense atmosphere as he takes another small step closer, was it always so hot in here? 
“We shouldn’t.”
“Who says?”
“ Everyone .” You stay like this for what seems like an eternity until Leon pulls you in by the back of your neck, his free hand moving to your waist as his lips crush against yours in a hasty kiss. He groans against your mouth and your fist coils the fabric of his shirt. Your hats tipped one another’s off and fell to the floor.
After a few seconds, he is the one to pull away from you. Your eyebrows furrow as you look at him in confusion, he looks at you like it was the answer. He clears his throat and takes a step back, wiping away your kiss and he looks away, trying to deny himself of what he wants. 
Who he wants so, so badly. 
He struggles to speak, to move, to think. He watches you and you watch him, both of your breaths at a skewed pace. 
“Make a mistake with me.” He whispers, he looks different. You can finally see his face, moonlight highlighting his sharp features. Never noticed how handsomely-pretty he was before. 
God, fuck it.
You step forward this time, pulling him in by the collar of his button up and pressing your lips against his. He licks the seam of your lips and you part them, teeth clacking and tongues entwining as he grabs the wide of your hips and pushes you against the metal bars. Ouch. 
He pulls away from you with a sigh, looking offended at the fact that he even had to leave the plush of your lips. His hand leaves you to unbuckle your belt with fervor and slip his hand inside your pants and panties. 
His fingers slip between your wet folds and he dips his head down to kiss your neck. Small moans escape you as he slowly rubs your clit, feeling your wet slick coat his fingers. “All those pretty sounds for me? I think I’m flattered.” 
You groan, “of course you’re a bitch even when doing this.”
“I take my words back, then.” He rolls his eyes and opts to bite down on your shoulder, your nails dig into his back through the fabric of his shirt and he shudders when you bite him back. “fuck, ‘s not enough. Gotta taste you.” 
He drops to his knees and fumbles with your belt until it’s off and shoves your pants down, his breath stuttering when he sees the soaked fabric. He drags them off you and pulls one of your legs over his shoulder. You hold onto the bars for balance, “Jesus Christ, wait . Almost made me fucking fall—“
You’re cut off when he spreads your lips and licks a stripe from your entrance to your clit. You moan, fingers grabbing a fistful of his hair and his eyes fluttered shut. He sighs at the taste of you, “fuckin’ delicious, can’t believe I didn’t do this shit sooner.” His voice, almost a groan, wavered before pushing his face back between your legs. 
His tongue lapped at your entrance and his nose bumped up against your swollen clit. His fingers dimple the fat of your thigh and his cock twitches the louder your sounds get. He curled his tongue and pressed it deeper, despite the proximity, he needed to get closer somehow. 
Trying to close your legs doesn’t work, smushing your thighs against his face only adds fuel to the fire.
You nearly sob when he pushed a finger inside your cunt, thrusting against your g-spot with a quick, steady rhythm. “ Leon , shit, shit , don’t you fucking stop. “ He slips in another finger, looking up at you with half-lidded eyes and a shit eating grin.
First time you’ve said his name, not kennedy or bastard or asshole – his name . And fuck, does it sound pretty coming out of you like that, how that alone makes his cock strain against his zipper. 
Filthy squelches and moans flood the empty bank while Leon eats your pussy like a starved man. His own moans escaping as you buck your hips against his face. You pull on his hair roughly and you swear you hear him whine
“Gotta get you nice ‘n wet f’me,” He muttered against your pussy and his eyes fluttered as he tried to keep open to watch you. He wraps his lips around your clit and sucks hard — a cry of his name and you’re so fucking close to coming on his face, panting and feeling uncomfortably hot. 
“Too much—“ you gasp, “Oh shit, fuck, it’s too much.” You choke, uneven moans escaping you as you finally come. You expect him to pull away but he doesn’t falter. “Mnh, wait, fuck, get off, get off . ” You beg breathlessly.
Leon groaned again and pressed closer, “need it, give it to me, honey. Gonna make you feel good, just don’t make me fucking stop.” He pleaded, feeling dizzy as he got high off your taste. You attempt to push his head and mouth away but your attempts are in vain. 
You let out yet another choked sob when he forces another orgasm out of you, reluctantly, he pulled away, licking his lips clean and wiping the rest with the back of his hand. His free hand rubbed your thigh to try and soothe you, asshole turned caring in a matter of seconds. “Sorry.” He murmurs, “couldn’t help myself.”
Your breaths are uneven pants as you look down at him on his knees still. “ Fuck me , Kennedy apologizing? I’m speechless.”
“Oh, we’re back to Kennedy?” 
He gets off his knees while yours quiver, “It was a mistake. A fluke.”
A smirk plays on his lips, “yeah, sure. We’ll see.” He turns you around and wraps his arm around your hips and pulls them against his own, pushing you forward slightly so you’re bent over, “grab the bars.” And you do.
You can feel the outline of his cock press against you, “so fucking ready, didn’t waste a goddamn second—y’sure that was a fluke? Getting my pants all dirty, honey.” You feel embarrassed, but not for long when you hear his belt buckle clink and the sound of fabric rustling – heart racing and pussy throbbing as to what’s happening. You turn your head and see him spit and runs his hand over his cock to get it wet. He smirks when he catches you, you shake your head and look forward again. “Gotta be sweet to me or I’ll make you work for it.”
“God, kennedy–” You gasp when he slides the head between your folds and nudges it at your entrance. 
“Leon.” he corrects, pushing the tip inside you, “C’mon baby, I know you can say it.” he grabs your hips to keep you from pushing back onto him. Fucker . 
“ Leon.”  
“Atta girl.”
He snaps his hips into you, body shuddering and your mouth opens with a sharp gasp and choked back moan. His grip on your hips tighten when he pulls out and pushes back inside to the hilt. His breathing is nothing but grunts, groans, and pants, you’re not much different – if anything else, you’re worse. “Can’t– fuck –handle it? Can rob every fucking bank but you can’t take some dick.”The way he fucks you is merciless, he wants you to feel good but also wants to punish you for everything you’ve done. Everything you’ve done to him. 
He dips his hand lower to smack your ass, “Answer me. Had a lot to say just minutes ago.” 
“Sh-shit, I can take it,” you shudder, “I can take it–” Your skin is wet with sweat and it gets harder to hold onto the bars, each thrust making you lose a bit more of yourself. Fuck him and fuck this but holy shit do you suddenly not regret everything you’ve ever done.
You’re mewling beneath him, happily and prettily so. “Pussy’s so tight, just needed a good dicking down.” he moans, “That all it took to get you to – fuck that’s good – listen?” he moves one of his hands from your hip to your clit, stimulating it as he fucks you a little harder, “Say my name, God, I need it.” he groans.
“Leon, Leon, Leon– ” You moan loudly, you don’t know when the sheriff is coming, but if he’s close you’re sure he can hear you easily. Your vision blurs when he touches you and your legs tremble with each spot his cock hits. 
“Don’t worry, I’ve gotcha, not lettin’ you go.” Leon’s an idiot, but if his mistakes will make him feel this good again, he’ll keep making them. His composure starts to dwindle when sweat beads his forehead and you start squeezing him like a vice. Made for him, he thinks. “ Take it , fuck yourself onto me honey, atta girl.” his breath stutters. 
Who are you to deny him – you do as you’re told and he moans. His hand goes up to your neck and pulls your back against his chest. Within seconds, you come around him with his name on your tongue and a scream. He bites down on your shoulder with a desperate groan before he pulls out and streams of hot come hit your ass.
He holds onto you like you’re his life line, like he’ll fall if he lets you go (he will). You two stay like that for a good 20 seconds before he lets go of you and takes a couple of steps back. He turns away from you and you can hear him zip up his pants and belt clunk when he fixes himself. You do the same, a little slower, both out of lack of energy and embarrassment.
Leon also feels embarrassed. This is the part where he’d usually get whoever he was sleeping with a glass of water, a quick bath, and ask if they’d rather go home tonight or he takes them home tomorrow. He can’t do either of that, and he’s supposed to hate you and definitely not fuck you or let you go.
He swallows, “You need to get going. He’ll be here soon and he won’t hesitate to shoot if he sees you run.”
“Right.” you whisper, taking a deep breath to steady yourself as you bend down to pick up your hat. You’re both in a daze, he looks at you, all guilty and nervous. His hair is wet with sweat and his cheeks are flushed, had it been anyone else you would’ve pushed his hair back to get a better look at him. But he’s not anyone else, and this was all a mistake . “Gonna stop coming after me now?” 
A weak smile tugs his lips, “In both ways, no. Can’t promise anything.”
You fight back a laugh but return his smile, turning away so he can’t see it. He picks up his hat next and watches as you walk away from him to the front of the bank. Like a lost puppy, he follows. “Need help getting up?” he motions to your horse.
“I’ll be fine, Kennedy. You need to worry about yourself rather than me.”
“Like I said, can’t promise anything.” 
You hop on your horse, ready to put all that you did with him in a box and stuffed away.
“Stay safe. Be seeing you.” he whispers.
You don’t trust yourself to speak so you nod, not looking back as your horse takes you away.
You’re a good mile out when Leon hears a horse’s footsteps behind him, then heavy human ones. “Where is she?” 
“I told you to follow me quick, Chris. She’s gone. Just thought I’d give you the message personally so you didn’t have to wait here alone.” 
Chris sighs and looks at Leon with nothing but hate. Ironic. “It’s not hard to do your damn job.”
“Can say the same about you – so, drinks? Need one after today.” 
Chris looks Leon up and down, eyebrows furrowed when he does so. “When did you change your hat?”
He blinks, suddenly realizing his is a little tighter.
Miles out, you realize yours is a little looser.
You suppose you two will be seeing another again after all. When you do, you'll finally be ready.
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ellieslaces · 14 days
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inspired by boop day, reblog this post if its ok for people to send you random asks and interact on your posts with no judgement. i want to talk to people.
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ellieslaces · 14 days
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an ode to my Ellie’s switchblade tattoo 🌿🗡️ ☟
there are pictures of a tattoo under the cut, some may have blood. proceed with caution if you are squeamish with blood <3 / there’s a long explanation of this tattoo under the pictures!
stencil ; I moved the stencil around 3 times before I decided the placement was perfect! (my artist told me I was low maintenance because I only moved it three times and we only had to use one piece of stencil) (also, ft. my Jill shirt another artist complimented!)
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freshly done ; around 5 minutes after being tattooed on my arm! (picture by my artist!)
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20 minutes later ; in my car about to drive home, covered in sani-derm (which I later realized doesn’t get along well with my skin) excited to go home and get some sleep (really I stared at it the rest of the night)
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a week later ; here she is a week later, still itchy and still a little peel-y, but she’s healing really well. every time someone sees it, they ask what the significance is, and I get to talk about Ellie <3
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🌿🗡️🌿
when considering my first ever tattoo, I knew I wanted something The Last of Us themed. I contemplated getting Ellie’s tattoo, but it is quite large and would have been very expensive. I also just have no desire to have a tattoo that big.
I considered some quotes as well, such as “when you’re lost in the darkness, look for the light” (double meaning bc it’s the Firefly motto and Ellie’s name literally means ‘light’) or “if I ever were to lose you, I’d surely lose myself”. but I decided against lettering as lettering bleeds if not done in thick lining and runs the risk of being misspelled.
I still have an ambition to get the moths Ellie draws in her journal in pt. 2, but that’s for the future. I also heavily considered getting something like the giraffe scene or something about the birthday flash back from pt. 2. but, for now, I went with a simple decision of getting Ellie’s switchblade.
it is essentially a black and grey replica of her switchblade on my outer left wrist (a twist tattoo basically). it is around 4 inches and actually very detailed for being so small.
I sat on this particular design and location for about a week before I caved and went to talk with my artist. (although I’ve wanted a TLOU tattoo for a little over a year now) he got me in the next day and did my tattoo. in all, I was there for a little over an hour and in the chair for around 40 minutes.
this tattoo actually means so much to me as The Last of Us video game series is one of my all time favorite things in this world, and my favorite games. I’ve Platinumed one of the games and am working to Platinum the other. I have hundreds of hours worth of gameplay of both games combined. this series of games means a lot to me for some emotional reasons. one of them (and maybe the biggest) being it helped me come to terms with my sexuality. which sounds a little silly, but it’s true.
I love these games, and Ellie as well. I find her relatable to me and I have a deep love for her and the plot itself. while I no longer support Druckman or Naughty Dog, these games will always have a huge significance to me and will always be close to my heart <3
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ellieslaces · 16 days
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You can donate to the Palestine Children's Relief Fund for as little as $1.00.
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There is a fee you can choose to apply to cover processing.
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Which if you choose to do leaves you with a total of ~$1.35 (USD) depending on the type of card you have.
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PCRF has a score of 97% on Charity Navigator.
Adults and children alike are currently dying in Palestine due to starvation. (World Health Organization Link)
The Gaza Strip is one of two places in the entire world that is categorized as Phase 5 (the highest phase) on the Integrated Food Security Phase Classification scale.
So even if you think it isn't enough, remember that donating even as little as $1.35 helps! It's $1.35 they wouldn't have had otherwise. So donate if you can. 🇵🇸
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ellieslaces · 17 days
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No difference except , the zionists made it worse , they stripped them from their clothes
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ellieslaces · 17 days
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ellieslaces · 17 days
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GLOBAL STRIKE ON APRIL 15
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"The terrorist Israeli occupation, after half a year, is still insisting on entering Rafah, which is the last city that still contains most of the population of the Gaza Strip.
80% of the Gaza Strip is destroyed and suffers from continuous military invasions, the movement of the Israeli army, besieging hospitals, commit massacres, destroy and blow up residential neighborhoods. And besieging the population and starving them.
The terrorist occupation is committing these crimes in front of the world, and is trying to have more time to destroy the hopes of the displaced to return and kill them with hunger and disease, and make the world get used to what is happening in Gaza and reduce media coverage and solidarity with Palestine, in addition to causing more destruction and strengthening the presence of the Israeli terrorists in Gaza in preparation for stealing the land.
Be smarter than them, and do not leave us to be killed and forgotten. *April 15 is a day of global strike*.. No schools, no movement, no work, no electronic payment, no gas stations. Make more noise and disturb the peace of terrorist politicians in America and IsraHell.
In the picture, me after half a year of documenting the genocide and surviving it daily without being sure of surviving the next day, and I will not stop until this genocide ends and I sit in the middle of my city feeling safe while I help my people rebuild Gaza."
Here's what to do:
Don't go to school or work (if you can)
Protest (if you can)
Do not shop anywhere
Do not use your credit card or use any money
Wear green, red, white and black clothes to show solidarity. Wear a badge, a keffiyeh, or anything that signifies your solidarity
Boost posts about Palestine, flood the media
Boycott!
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ellieslaces · 20 days
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should I do y’all a solid and unleash my collection of Leon edits i unshamlessly saved to my phone? 🫣👀
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ellieslaces · 23 days
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sorry for all of my inactivity. life as been busy lately, I haven’t been feeling well, and I just needed a writing break. I’ll do my best to update my fics, including can’t catch me now. thank you all for being so patient! luv you all bunches 🫶
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ellieslaces · 23 days
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the way I read all the available chapters in one sitting. MY DUDE, this is so so good 🫶
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PROLOGUE/TEASER
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summary: for months, leon has been writhing in his bed dreaming of his friend's wife (you). he's been fighting the desperation for months until that one night you bring up a lingerie shoot you've done for a prestigious brand.
part one
**BASED ON THE CHARACTER.AI BOT BY WESKER420. Please follow them, jesus christ, their bots are like crystal meth: they are so good.**
warnings: this is an OOC. I am a firm believer that Leon is an honest and very respectful man and would never do anything to hurt another person to the best of his ability. leon x model!fem! reader, series, SMUT!! SMUT!! SMUT!! they will fuck and that is a promise! infidelity (obvs, babes, look at the title), fem! reader, reader has a vagina, descriptions of masturbation, brief mention of a fleshlight, lube, tissues. leon's kind of a perv if you squint, vaginal sex, anal sex, smoking, language, drinking, weed smoking (mention and act), some texts, lingerie mention, photoshoots, jealousy and possessiveness (the hot kind), ada slander at times, leon is married to ada, no use of y/n or (name) because it gives me the ickity ick, angst at times becos i'm a sad gorl, sorry if grammar sucks but im a slut, also i promise there's dialogue i just ❤️ context and description, slowburn, mutual pining, eventual smut, pov switching from time to time (but not like you pronouns changing to she/her, just like the majority of a chapter would be told in Leon or your point of view,)
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For months, Leon had been writhing in his silk sheets at night. He was no stranger to these encounters, considering his career as an agent. Nightmares were a usual guest in his home of dreams, but this time was different. They weren't the usual nightmares of losing his team, no. They were...wet dreams. About you.
Dreams of fucking you so hard he'd break the bed. Dreams of your goddamn perfect tits bouncing in unison with his violent thrusts. Dreams of your whines, constantly praising him on how good he fucked you, how good he felt with the tip of his cock kissing your cervix like they had just had their first kiss on their front porch after a first date. He was fiendish in those fantasies. He'd gotten desperate to the point of going online and buying a fleshlight with his own adult money. He had felt so shameful. Leon went out and fought a bioweapon (saving the world) with a fat paycheck handed to him. A paycheck he would spend on a sex toy because he couldn't stop dreaming of fucking you.
But that's all they were to him. Dreams. Wet dreams, at that, but just dreams. He did feel guilty, there was no denying that: he felt like a teenager going through puberty all over again, having to jerk his cock multiple times past the point of overstimulation to have the fleeting moment of you pass his mind and regulate back onto the normal, time-to-time sexual thoughts of his wife. He knew he probably wasn't alone in this. Besides, he wouldn't ever act on it. True, Leon was in an unstable and semi-toxic relationship with his wife, Ada, but the mere thought of cheating on her made him feel violently ill. He was loyal. He was kind. He was honest. He was the type of man you brought home to your parents and they'd clamor over him like a newborn baby Jesus. At least that's what he'd try to convince himself of. But tonight, Leon Kennedy would be a different man. He'd diligently play the part of a loving and caring husband, one who could never dream of cheating on his wife with another woman. Tonight would be the night that he would have dinner with his friends he hadn't seen in a while, chat, have a good laugh and a good meal until he eventually went home and spent the rest of the night with Ada. Leon knew this wouldn't be the most perfect night ever, of course not: he's never been a lucky man in his life, and that certainly won't be changing tonight. Why? Because you're there. You're there to haunt him like some horny odd ghost: almost as if you're taunting and teasing him with your mere presence. Like you're telling him: "I know you want to fuck me."
He's torn from his thoughts with the sultry palm of Ada's hand surfacing upon his shoulder. Yet, her hand feels cold. He remembers the warmth he felt at the beginning of their marriage, she felt sweaty at some points, but she felt as cold as freezing air in a Colorado Winter. He realized he had been standing in front of their bathroom mirror for ten minutes, doing the same motion of moving his tie back and forth like he was masking the way he thought about changing it.
"Ready?" Leon nodded in response, finally stopping the long game of toying with the elongated piece of fabric. He pats his wife's hip, to which he's met with a curt smile, concealing a plethora of disgust. He wants to be sad. Say something snarky. Be angry even. But all he feels is disappointed in himself. Leon knew that Ada had betrayed him ages ago during the Raccoon City incident but had put it upon himself to trust her again. That's what love is right? He would tell himself every time he felt a doubt begin to creep inside his hollow mind. Trusting someone even when they hurt you in the past.
Eventually they arrive at the dinner party, being greeted with hugs and the usual: "Leon, Ada, it's been so long. So nice to see you!"'s and so and so forth. On one hand, he's grateful. How lucky is he to have the opportunity to come together with his friends and have a nice evening that quells the dark thoughts of breaking his wife's trust or the fact their marriage was breaking at the seams and there was nothing he could do to fix it anymore. Then there's his other hand. The hand that's caked in filth and gut-wrenching horniness that tells him to cheat on his wife with you. The devil on his shoulder, if you will. The small malevolent voice was awoken as soon as his eyes settle upon your body. The one he dreamt about for the past few months.
You're wearing cute little pearlescent earrings upon your lobes, a necklace to match and finished off with a very lovely black slip dress that hugs your body just right. The fabric lovingly stretches across your tits like the dress was ripped straight from every man's dream. There was a slit upon the side: revealing enough until... There was a stirring in his jeans. His cock suddenly leaps to life as if it were unconscious and been resuscitated back to life via CPR. The phallic shaft ached against the gusset and fly of his cotton Calvin Klein brand boxers: tip sweeping against his waistband in a way that felt so familiar now, so normal. And for one of the first times in Leon Scott Kennedy's life, he truly realizes how fucked he is.
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credits: snoopy divider by @animatedglittergraphics-n-more heart divider by @saradika-graphics
277 notes · View notes
ellieslaces · 23 days
Note
ugh this was so fucking cute!!! <3
could you do a fic for re4 leon where he and fem!reader are in a relationship (secret bc they can’t let the agency find out) they are on the spain mission together and luis starts flirting with her and its taking everything in leon for for him to not say “thats my girlfriend” or something like that?
sorry if this is specific i just thought of it in the middle of class
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Music For Two People in A Secret Relationship
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RE4R!Leon x F!Agent!Reader
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Leon is a stickler for the rules. Well, he was– he made sure that he followed the rules he was made to obey, even when he didn’t exactly agree with them. One fine training day, you lunged at him with a combat knife, a deadly fire in your eyes and he felt the ground beneath him shift. He had to move and dodge away from the next offense, even if he wanted to give himself time to admire you. You moved like a panther, your gaze much more penetrating than the blade you held in a reverse saber grip; you embodied one too, light footfalls as you circled him before pouncing with your claws out towards the man in front of you. If giving in to the calling of his heart is a crime then he’d gladly be an outlaw.
Here he is now, dancing around the rules in order to be your boyfriend; twisting, bending, and extending his will to resist the temptation to hold your hand in the walls of the USSTRATCOM headquarters, proudly referring to you as “his” and for him to hear you call him “yours” towards colleagues and higher-ups. He had to settle for the tension-filled stares across the briefing room, the kinds of looks that set off sparks in his chest, and the electric accidental brushes of his finger against yours as he reaches for something.
Although Valdelobos is everything but idyllic, he’s thankful for the opportunity to be with you despite this decrepit village being another reminder of Raccoon City; he wouldn’t want to relive Raccoon City again but it’s less triggering for him because he’s with you … and a certain Spanish gentleman with a penchant of flirting with his girlfriend; he didn’t trust the man one bit but what choice did he have? The man held vital information regarding the villagers and Umbrella; a former scientist, Luis claimed. Despite him being a little different from the usual scientists behind BOWs, he seemed to know a lot regarding the cult and the parasite– Las Plagas. Charming and charismatic too, the perfect man all in all. He also served as the brains behind the group, oddly familiar with the puzzle mechanisms that the Los Illuminados employed.
Now, all of you were stuck in this misty baroque ballroom somewhere in Salazar’s palace. As soon as everyone was inside the room, the big wooden doors closed and several locks were heard clicking in place. Silence followed, Ashley huddled in the middle by you, Leon, and Luis’ bodies as you formed a protective circle. The fact that silence followed and not the groans and cultic chanting unsettled everyone, unused to this odd peace. After a few moments of guns being out, Luis’ Red 9 is holstered back into its brown leather confines.
“Do you smell that,” he softly whispers. “The rusty air. This ballroom was an old bastion for the Los Illuminados, held their sacrifices here but albeit more… morbid. Sacrifices were released like bulls in a bullpen, they all tried to escape while trying not to die on the way– had to escape booby traps and avoid stepping on the wrong tiles. There’s a lot more with the trap system they set up and they’re all elaborate.”
The atmosphere that hung over everyone was heavy and miserable now that Luis had to point out the history behind the room. No one stepped foot away from where they were standing, afraid to trigger something to fly out and impale someone.
“What ballroom is this,” Ashley asks.
“The Birdcage,” Luis responds. “La Jaula de Pájaros.”
“I’ve read somewhere about certain macabre ballrooms being connected to cult hide-outs and traps and usually, the ways to beat those traps is somehow connected to culture like dances and poems,” she begins to explain. “Basically, we might need to dance or make music to make it out alive for this one. Just like… just like a bird. Wait– this place’s name is ‘birdcage’ so we have to escape like birds by means of making music and moving around like how birds chirp and fly!”
“Make music? How exactly,” you ask.
“Rhythmic tapping might be one of them,” Luis suggests.
You look at the people around you, eyebrows meeting in the middle as their foreheads crease in focus and worry. Leon bent down and observed the ground, calloused fingers grazing over the cracked tiles. With each lengthy swipe of his finger, he noticed that the imprints on the ground had a pattern. He leaned closer to the ground and observed what looked like musical notes; he turned to the ground Ashley stood on and noted the same patterns of notes and symbols used.
“There’s musical notations on the ground, maybe we can use that for the rhythm of our tapping,” Leon informs the group. “Who here can read music–”
“I can,” you interrupt. You bend down, fingers skimming over the etching. After a few seconds of remembering which notes sounded a certain way, you get back up and relay the information you just got. You get everyone’s attention and start humming the tune before softly stomping your boots on the ground, asking everyone else to follow along to make sure that they remember the beat.
“Uh guys,” Ashley speaks up. “We have to start soon.”
She points to the ceiling, several ganados kept in cages dangling overhead. The ceilings may be high from where you all stood, but there was nothing separating your group and them. With a determined yet wary nod, you nod to Luis. He approaches you and bows, to which you respond with. He slowly places his hand on your waist, the other gently holding your gloved hand. You glance at Leon, seeing him do the same with Ashley with the placements of his hand in areas that don't make Ashley feel uncomfortable. You give Leon another nod, signifying the start of the dance. Your pair and Leon’s slowly drift to opposite parts of the room, dancing a fierce tango with rhythmic footfalls. You could dance but not in this way and you were lucky that Luis was there to guide you. In the drop of the beat, he spun you and for a quick moment you saw Leon glance at your direction before turning his gaze back to Ashley and making sure he doesn’t mess up his part and involve Ashley in whatever fuck-up he might make. You wouldn’t admit this to Luis but you wished that it was Leon who was spinning and dipping you, that it was the large hand of Leon’s that was perched on your waist. Maybe you’d like to go dancing with Leon once this shit is all over, maybe invite Luis too but you’ll spend most of the evening slow dancing with Leon when you’ve both had one too many drinks. You knew that Leon felt the same based on the gawking Leon unintentionally does, those types of gawks that once you blink, you’d miss and assume that you were just seeing things differently. As much as Leon admitted that Luis was a gifted dancer to his standards, he wished that he could just swoop in and swing you around, to feel your hand around his neck and for you to gaze up dreamily at you when he dips your body. It doesn’t take long for you to get into the dance, the twirls and spins along with the echo of the taps of shoes helping you get into the feel of dancing even though this dance could very much determine whether or not everyone will make it out of this ballroom.
After a few minutes of dancing, all of you finish the beat and you hear a faint click. The eyes and mouth of a tarnished Tarasca statue moves, its neck opening to reveal an ornate conical capsule. Hastily, you run to the statue and take the capsule and twist it open. An intricate copper key falls out.
“We might be able to get out of this,” Leon points out. Hurriedly, he runs to the doors and inserts the piece of metal to the keyhole.
“Careful, Sancho. This thing is brittle,” Luis reminds him. “All that dancing will be for nothing if the key snaps while it’s inside!”
“I know what I’m doing,” your partner seethes.
The faint sound of the door lock’s mechanisms clicking to unlock causes everyone to breathe a sigh of relief, Leon pushing the doors open to let everyone out before himself. You mouth a small thank you to him, to which he responds with a small smile. He finally gets out and urges everyone to run, since the cages holding the ganados were being lowered. After a few minutes, everyone is now out of the palace. All of you stop by the ruins of an old stone house, sinking to the ground to catch your breath.
“Hah… D-didn’t know… hah… you looked lovely in pink,” Luis points out with a tired yet smug smirk bringing a finger up to motion to the flush in your cheeks. “Etérea.”
The Spaniard doesn’t miss the way the blond’s gaze slightly darkens, moving to you as he places a hand on your back as you still catch your breath. You look at Leon as he asks if you’re okay, to which you give him a small smile and a thumbs-up. Leon withdraws his hand from your back to radio back to Hunnigan, giving her information on where you just came from and how everyone’s doing. Since you managed to catch your breath, you check on Ashley who’s doing a lot better now. You offer her the remaining water in your flask, to which she gulped down audibly.
“Water never tasted so divine, holy crap,” she exclaimed as she handed you your flask back.
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Since you and Leon were unsure of the safety of the area, you decided that it would be best for you to start moving somewhere less dangerous. Ashley was growing tired, grumbling about her feet hurting but she was still soldering on, walking without breaks. Luis’ chatter made the trip less boring, occasionally talking to Ashley and then flirting with you. After seeing Leon’s subtle reaction to him complimenting your flushed cheeks after running, the cheeky side of Luis decided to flirt with you some more to see how far he can push the reserved and stoic man.
“Hey,” Luis begins. “After all this, what do you say to a little Spanish countryside getaway? You and me.”
“Sounds nice,” you say. “But I’ve got a little night out scheduled with someone when I get back.”
“You aren’t exactly saying ‘no’.”
“I’m going to have to confirm this with my boyfriend. You’re a chill man but I still have to let my man know.”
Luis simply chuckles, his steps slowing down so he’ll fall in step with Leon who is busy craning his head here and there, trying to spot any threat before a possible threat spots you. Well, this is only half true. As soon as he heard Luis proposing the future prospect of him showing off the Spanish countryside to you, he forced himself to pay attention to something else other than the fact that you’re smiling and laughing softly at the Spaniard. The agent brushes whatever he heard off, knowing that his girlfriend loves him and only him but the fact that he can’t do much, especially that their relationship isn’t exactly encouraged at their agency and the fact that they’re both at work; he’s relieved that you aren’t returning his flirting. All he can afford to do is to ask if you’re fine by masking it behind the simple concern for a coworker and nothing more. 
“How’re you holding up, Sancho Panza,” Luis whispers to which Leon responds with silence.
“Ah, I think I know why you’re silent,” the chatty man beside him observes. “It’s because… you like her!”
Leon stops in his tracks and looks at Luis with a slightly baffled expression, head tilted with his eyes slightly squinted before proceeding to walk again, the squelch of his boots against mud resuming again.
“I know just the remedy to this, Leon,” Luis excitedly begins, lowering his voice just before he continues the rest of his sentence. “Y’know, I know a nice bar somewhere in Madrid. Good drinks, good music. I’m sure she’d love it there.”
Leon stays silent again but mentally notes the ‘good drinks, good music’. It would be nice to take her somewhere upbeat.
“But if that’s getting a bit too ahead of our current predicament then you can offer to tend to her wounds, best done in the evening when the night is cold and the fire is the only thing keeping us warm. It’s a sincere tender moment, just imagine it: you, her, and the rustling of trees. She–”
“She’s my girlfriend. I’ve done plenty of that and more so she’d go out with me,” Leon interrupts.
Luis freezes on the spot, eyes the size of golf balls, with his mouth ajar. Leon simply smirks and scoffs at the sight, trudging on. After a few moments, Luis comes rushing back to him. Luis is just staring at him, going off at him in Spanish while he just continues walking and tries to hide a smug grin. Luis wraps up on whatever he was saying, now staring back and forth at you and him before walking a little faster to join you and Ashley several steps ahead. The usual cocky expression makes its way back to Luis’ face, shooting you and Leon a knowing look now before chuckling along. Moments later, Leon decides to speed up walking to be able to catch up with everyone. He hears Ashley and Luis exchanging jokes with you occasionally laughing and butting in with your own. Out of the blue, Leon nonchalantly wraps an arm around your waist, much to Luis and Ashley’s shock.
“Ash, don’t tell HQ about this,” you whisper with a wicked grin before getting on your tiptoes and planting a kiss on Leon's cheek.
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NOTE - Thanks to the lovely anon that requested this, I hope you enjoyed reading this :) I had a lot more fun writing this since I had to think a little more than I usually do when I write (if it makes sense), especially for the ballroom part of the fic. I'll try to write for other versions of Leon soon since I mostly write about RE2 Leon. Also, does anyone know the manga 'Veil' ?? I've recently (yesterday) got into it and now I'm hoping that physical copies are being sold where I live... Aleksander is cute I'll say that (I NEED AN ALEKSANDER IN MY LIFE IM SO ALONE AND SINGLE RIGHT NOW- SINGLE SINCE BIRTH EVEN). Anyways, that's it and thank you soo much for reading my fics!! I <3333 UUUUUU !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! The dividers are made by @benkeibear , the images are made by me (sourced from Pinterest).
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ellieslaces · 23 days
Text
casual ; ellie williams ౨ৎ⋆
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don't buy tlou | free palestine
you can read part two here!
pairing: ellie williams x fem!reader
summary: ellie williams, the girl you've been infatuated with since freshman year of high school. you've been hooking up, ellie only wants things to be casual, but you're not sure you want to put yourself through that for much longer.
warnings: MDNI, ANGST, smut, age is not specified, situationship, ellies kinda toxic, sub & dom!ellie, dom & sub!reader, eating out no diner (r&e receiving), oral sex (r receiving), ellies desperate, reader wears a dress at some point, barely edited, i think thats it? should work for everyone but if not please lmk asap! (first time writing smut pls be gentle lolol)
w/c: 2.4k
dt: happy one year to casual ♡ if you guys really like this im open to making a part two! @satellitespinner ;p
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"you're such a loser!" your friend chuckles from beside you at the bar. you had been staring at ellie, you knew that. she knew that. but she was simply just so... so pretty.
"pfft, no i'm not," you laugh it off, taking a sip from your far too strong drink. eyes lingering on the auburn haired girl a second longer before you hesitantly turn your head back to your friend, failing to notice ellie's eyes immediately looking back to you.
"you still hang around and talk to her? you should know better by now then to get involved with her. i've heard the rumours, you know. she only sees you as some girl to fuck on her couch"
"i'll be fine," you jump in with defence "it's not like it's serious. it's casual. let me have my fun!" you play slap her, the alcohol in your system starting to take its effect.
"okay, okay," she laughs along with you, taking a sip from your own drink. "i won't get in your way. just.. be careful. you never know with girls like ellie williams."
"wowww, her government name-?"
"mind if i steal her for a second?" you could recognise that voice from a thousand miles away. turning your head ever so slightly, meeting eyes with her, before quickly looking away and giving apologetic eyes to your friend.
"of course," she glances to ellie before looking back to you "i'll see you at home, okay?" she smiles at you, ellie is quick to grab you by the waist and hurriedly push you towards the exit down the stairs.
"ellie? why're you being so pushy? you didn't even thank my friend-!" you begin to protest when she suddenly pushes you up against the stair wall, roughly placing her slightly chapped lips on yours.
you moan into the kiss, allowing your purse to fall by your side as you subconsciously put both your hands into her hair half up half down you thought, she's wanted to do this all night.
"i couldn't stand to see you in that fucking dress any longer without my hands on you," ellie moves down from your lips to your ears, to trailing down your neck. sucking on that one sweet spot, you know there's going to be a purple mark there later. "and you were laughing with her as if she was the funniest person alive." she has one hand around your head, another slowly trailing along the outline of your hips.
"ellie..." you sigh happily, your nails slightly scratching and pulling at her hair. "we... we're just friends." that sentence made you mad. you didnt want to be friends. friends dont do shit like this. friends dont fuck on the regular. friends dont get jealous. at that sentence, she roughly pulls away from your neck, removing her hands from your body, forcing your own hands to be pulled out of her hair. you whine at the loss of contact, chasing her lips.
she's quick to move away, dodging the kiss. "ellie c'mon, please dont be like that," you throw your head back against the stairwell, locking eyes with her.
"baby, no attachment." she reminds you.
"i know."
she looked... needy. she looked desperate. desperate for you.
"ellie?" you question for what felt like the millionth time that night.
"my car. now. please."
and thats where you were. in a more secluded parking spot, knee deep in the passenger seat, dress pulled up and panties pulled down with ellie's tongue working around your pussy as if she was starving. her fingers pushing in and out of your cunt at such a fast pace and it felt so fucking good.
you were a moaning mess. squeezing your eyes tightly shut with your head placed firmly against the headrest. when you began to feel your orgasm approaching, ellie knew it too. from the way your walls were squeezing her two fingers tightly and slowly adding a third one. "look at me baby, or i wont let you cum."
immediately you open your eyes, letting out a few panicked "no"'s, worried that your orgasm would be ripped away from you.
"ellie..." you whimper "please, please can i cum?" you practically beg, falling apart on her fingers bit by bit. your wetness dripping down your own legs.
"how could i say no to a girl as pretty as you?" she briefly lifts her head up before diving back down, working at a much faster pace and showing more attention to your swollen bud, and its not long before you let her overtake your entire being as your orgasm rippled through you. pathetic "thank you's" spilling from your mouth at lightning speed, the girl below you helping you work through your orgasm. detaching her mouth from your puffy clit and reaching up to attach her pink lips to your own. to get you to shut up, of course. her tongue lapping up your liquids.
when you begin to calm down, she slowly starts speeding up her fingers again.
"think you got one more for me?"
it's just casual you remind yourself, looking down at her with your fluids dripping down her chin. casual.
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11:02 pm ellie
hey
my dad was asking about u
he was wondering if u wanted to come over for dinner tmrw night
11:36 you
hi ellie!
sure i would love that, what time should i be there?
11:37 ellie
around 6
dont dress too fancy
his name is joel and he's chill, you dont have to bring anything
oh and here's the address ***********
11:40 you
okay! i'll see you there :)
11:40 ellie
see you
"hi mr. miller!" you cheerfully introduce yourself. you wanted to make a good impression on ellies father, taking off your coat and stepping into the house. not forgetting to hand him the surprisingly nice bottle of whisky you had purchased him on your way.
"hey kid! it's nice to finally put a face to the name after hearin' ellie talk my ear off about you." he hugs you quickly before thanking you for the bottle. the southern accent was the first thing you took into account the second he opened his mouth, the second was the words he actually said.
ellie talks about me to her dad? and we're casual?
"joel!" you hear ellie complain from behind the man, he moves out of the doors way, giving you a perfect view of ellie and ellie a perfect view of you.
you had taken her advice, opting to wear some simple low rise baggy jeans and a white shirt that had bows on the sleeves.
"hi baby," she makes her way towards you, abandoning her previous task of setting the table. giving you a kiss on the cheek before grabbing the small bunch of flowers you had also brought for dinner and grabbing your waist. gently leading you over to the table.
your cheeks heat up at this action. casual. its just casual, shes trying to be respectful. respectful around joel.
"how've you been kid? ellie tells me your volunteerin' at a local dog shelter eh?" he makes his way to the old wooden table. ellie nudges you towards him, insinuating you too are able to sit down while she finishes prepping dinner.
"um yeah i have been! honestly its been incredible even if a little hard..." ellie tunes out of whatever your talking about, simply staring at you as you had been to her at the bar only two nights prior.
you were so pretty. too pretty.
and she could already feel herself beginning to drip, she was so fucked tonight.
"foods ready!" ellie announces, pushing the feeling deep down. you stand up and make your way over to her to help bring the array of dishes to the table.
ellie uses this opportunity to whisper in your ear a simple, but desperate,
"i need you."
and you couldnt even think about focusing the rest of dinner.
your entire body was on high alert, ellies hand placed firmly on your thigh and her gaze unwavering whenever joel was asking you a question.
it felt like she was mentally undressing you, imagining all the things she would do to you when dinner was over.
but you werent having it.
it was supposed to be a nice dinner, one night where you two dont fuck and you're able to respectfully meet her adoptive father. but as always, ellie couldnt fathom to see you fully clothed for more than five minutes.
plates were empty and the conversation was starting to die down, this is when the auburn haired girl took the opportunity to stand up from her seat and start collecting plates, you (respectfully) following in suit.
"dinner was lovely mr miller and ellie, thank you so much." you compliment, trying your hardest to be slow and force ellie to wait even longer for your touch.
"of course, you're so kind. oh and please call me joel. it's so nice to see ellie's got herself such a... respectable partner."
you let out a small laugh at his comment, thanking him and starting to wash the dishes.
"oh no no no please let me, you've already done plenty." joel inturrupts, grabbing the sponge and dish from your hands
"oh no its okay really i dont mind-"
"no point in arguing with the old man, he's stubborn as fuck." ellie's voices creeps up from behind you while she loops her arms around your shoulders and rests her head on the top of your own.
"ellie, language!" joel scolds while laughing, making it clear he clearly curses more than he does -- especially based on the conversations the two of you had at the table.
"sure, joel" she huffs, discreetly trying to push you towards her room.
"thank you again joel! hopefully i'll see you before i leave!" ellie lets go of your shoulders and instead, grabs your hand, turning you around and making a run for her room.
"'course kiddo! see you later" the old man chuckles, leaving you and ellie to your own activities.
the minute the door to her bedroom was shut, your lips were already on hers. roughly pushing her up against the sticker filled wood. you remove your lips from her mouth and start kissing down her neck, simultaneously unbuttoning her jeans.
"hey," she says, almost like she's scared you'll stop "what're you tryna do?"
"did you think you were funny when you kept teasing me all dinner?" you ask mockingly, ellie stays silent. she's too lost in the mere thought of you to acknowledge her precious actions.
when she doesn't answer, you pull your hand out of her jeans. she opens her eyes at lightning speed.
"what the fuc-?!" her words are cut short when you drop to your knees, pulling her jeans about midway to her knees. you can see her slick seeping through her boxers.
"all for me ellie?" you giggle slightly, pulling down her boxers as well and allowing the cool air to hit her aching cunt.
"oh shut up... fuck" she moans as you started kitten licking her pussy, you did that for a couple seconds, basking in the moment before she grabbed your head, pushing you in further, indicating she wanted needed more.
so, you did exactly that. going rougher, harder. diving your tongue in and out of her pussy faster and faster. you could barley breathe as she had her hands on the top of your head, pushing you further into her. you copy exactly what she does with you, swirling your tongue around her clit before inserting it back into her clenching hole.
she was on the verge of coming, if her lewd moans and harsh grip on your head weren't sign enough, she started to curl her toes and you could feel her knees on the edge of bucking. she was so close.
"cmon baby you can come" you let her know, removing your mouth from her clit for a second before going straight back in.
tears are leaking from the corner of her eyes while she screams, you cover her mouth quickly, removing a hand from her thigh and shushing her. what are now muffled screams ring throughout your ears while you help her ride out her high.
casual. you just made this girl cum, don't forget your casual. don't fucking forget you're-!
"thanks for that," ellie says, looking down at you while you stand back up again, using the back of your hand to wipe her off your chin.
"um... yeah no worries?" you hesitantly reply.
"you can go now," she's buttoning up her jeans, and you look at her in shock. is she serious right now?
"are you serious?" you voice your thoughts.
"yeah? why wouldn't i be?" ellie's looking back up at you, as if she's done nothing wrong.
you scoff, wiping the rest of ellies fluids off your face and pushing her away from the door, she blocks it before you can leave. please, just let me go.
"hey hey hey what the hell is wrong with you?"
"you want me to leave? well i'm leaving." you bite back
"yeah but like- why're you actin' like your pissed at me?"
"ellie i-" you stop yourself as you can hear your voice raising, you want to be civil. and you know your voice will crack sooner or later. "ellie, i don't know if i want things to be causal anymore."
silence.
"wha-" she stammers "what? that's what we agreed on!"
you start to tear up, "i've heard the rumours, you know. you tell everyone how i come everytime you simply touch me, how im just another girl on your roster you bang on your couch," you point to the grey sofa just a few meters away.
ellie scoffs, running a sweaty hand through her hair in disbelief. how the fuck did you know?
"listen-"
"no. no ellie i can't. i just can't, you invite me over to meet your dad just to get a quick fuck? are you serious?"
ellie's silent again, this time she doesn't know what to say. because she knows the truth, and she knows how fucked up it was of her to do.
her silence, however, is everything to you.
fuck this casual shit.
with tears silently streaming down your face, you make a move towards the door. ellie moves away, and it solidifies your broken heart.
a hand on her doorknob, you say your final words to her "my favorite bra is still in your dresser, by the way. please give back when you can." your voice shakes, as are your hands, and with that you open the door and leave.
and as soon as you do, both you and ellie are broken messes on either sides.
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ellieslaces · 23 days
Text
ummm oh my god???🧎‍♀️
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adieu, mon dieu!
“forgive me, father, for i have committed the biggest sin of all!”
pairing: afab!reader x re4r!leon
warnings: smut, virginity loss, blasphemy, dub-con, inexperienced/pure reader, religious reader, manipulation, cum eating, creampie, pussy slapping, pet names, breeding kink, slight choking, crying during sex, age gap mention (reader is 19 while leon is 27), fingering, porn with plot (?), bit of ooc leon
note: first time writing hence why it’s so long :3 also wrote this based on leon saying “i’ll give you a holy body” in re4r bc nobody freaks out over it like i do
“holy mary, mother of god, pray for us sinners.” the prayer is muscle memory. a smile adorns your face as you walk out of sunday mass with your family. oh how you cherish the time spent in god’s temple. you would not have it any other way. this small, quiet town in washington homes jesus freaks like yourself. where every summer, all children through teens spend their time at church camp. cross necklaces or rosaries are worn around the necks of bypassers and neighbors. you feel as though you are blessed with such a life.
so when leon appears in your life, you think you’re the most blessed girl alive. as the two of you go steady, he starts attending church with you and listens to the word of the lord with you in his black jeep. he listens to your prayers and readings of the bible. leon couldn’t be anymore perfect. “our heavenly father has blessed me with a man who loves me.” pink hues flush your cheeks as you smile giddishly during confession. “do not let temptation fool you.” the priest on the other side taunts, almost as if it’s a warning.
the people of the church disagree with the relationship you have with leon, the eight year gap between you two. more so, they dislike leon. they tell you he is not a man of the lord, he is a walking sin. they share their stories of glancing at him during mass and how he’s appearing to hold back laughter, how he doesn’t actually consume the blood and body of christ, how his eyes are filled with something evil. you choose to not believe them as they don’t know leon as you do. “he is nothing like that, sister olivia.” you defend during sunday lunch, biting your tongue. “you have found the devil in a lover.” sister olivia spews with disgust.
her words are a distraction during your date, echoing and bleeding into the grooves of your brain. “sweetheart?” leon calls as he catches your zoned out state. your eyes connect with his, you break yourself out of thought. “i’m sorry, i was just lost in thought.” you apologize, gleaming with a shy smile. the warmth of leon’s hand engulfs yours across the table, the cold silver of your ring turning hot. “i was asking if you would want to go back to my place after this?” leon repeats what you had muffled seconds ago.
“i’ll have to ask my dad first.” you embarrassingly respond as pinks heat your cheeks. there’s limited privacy with leon, daytime stays at his home with an hour max limit and once every two weeks only. your father implemented this as a way to keep a better piece of mind. “c’mon sweetheart, what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.” leon persuades with sugar on his tongue. the veil of orange from the candles illuminating the table is covering his face, you might just burst from the ethereal beauty he holds. he’s saying something color-coded yet it’s muffled as the tidal wave of his eyes are drowning you. “okay.” you mindlessly respond, leon faintly smirks.
the little skirt you wear is almost halfway off while you and leon makeout on his couch, something you shamelessly leave out during confessions. you keep your hands on his broad shoulders while he dangerously lingers his hands at your hips and thighs. you think you’re seeping through your panties as you feel a wet patch forming, making you feel bothered. “i feel weird.” you pant between a kiss, lungs aflame from the little oxygen you grant yourself. leon pulls away with furrowing eyebrows, “did i do something wrong?”
yet you’re struggling to understand what IS wrong. why do you feel so…wet down there? maybe you started your period but you realize it ended a week ago. leon’s eyes are burning into your skin, the gaze causing you to feel mortified. how can you tell him this? what if he thinks you’re weird? his girlfriend is wetting herself like a damn fool for no reason. “what is it?” that soft tone of his makes you feel even worse. embarrassment is starting to creep itself into the flesh of your body.
“i feel wet.” you say it so clearly and slowly as if you’re dumbing it down for yourself. you don’t know why you feel like this and you don’t know why it’s happening. leon smiles at the frustration you show, clearly not thinking of your situation weirdly. “that’s a good thing, doll.” he coos while holding your hands. head tilting and ditzy eyes searching for an answer, you are clueless by how this is a good thing. “what do you mean, leon?” “you’re turned on, that’s what i mean.” the blood pumping into your heart turns cold at the realization of what you have let yourself done. one of the deadliest sins of all: lust
how can you let yourself get carried away and almost give into something sacred? something you promised to your heavenly father that you will wait till marriage to do? you clutch the rosary wrapped around your neck, “please forgive me. i’m sorry, leon.” you think leon must be feeling the same way too, realizing you both almost gave into sin. oh how awful he must feel, to almost have betrayed the lord and gave into temptation. leon searches your face in hopes to find something you’re not sure of. “why are you apologizing?” he questions, hands no longer embracing your own.
“for getting you caught up in almost sinning.” “it’s not a bad thing to be turned on.” his voice is laced with something unfamiliar, a tone you’re not even aware of. “but it can lead to having sex and we’re not-” “there’s nothing bad about having sex either.” leon interrupts with annoyance. you can’t fathom how he thinks premature sex is not bad, he’s read the bible with you countless times. the purity ring wrapped around your finger symbolizes the commitment you vowed to and he’s reminded every time he holds your hand. “we can’t have sex, leon. you know that.”
“do you not love me?” leon is frowning at you, taking you aback with his words. “i love you, leon. of course i do.” you profusely confess as you get closer to him. the weight of your chest growing heavy while he shakes his head. “you’re supposed to have sex with the one you love right? then why don’t you? if you love me enough, then it’s not sin.” leon preaches with eyes glimmering with something indescribable. “we won’t have sex, we’ll be making love. that’s different. the lord doesn’t view it as sin.”
different strokes of blue are piercing into your soul, almost like his eyes are trapping you. your mind is foggy as you try to think of something to say. “i don’t think...” you trail off with unsure certainty, but what you want to actually say becomes lost in thought as leon’s cherry-bruised lips pull apart in a smile. you think he’s right, it’s something you probably skimmed over. cold hands caress your bare thighs, leon’s lips kiss the skin below your jaw. “you know i’m right, doll.” he mutters while his teeth lightly nip your skin, you grow hot. “i would never lie to such a pretty angel.”
“i’ll make you feel so good.” leon promises with his hands scrunching up your skirt. the sudden action causing your heart to burst within itself. your dry mouth defeats the words wanting to escape, to tell him to not touch there. you’re also battling the urge to let yourself do so as his hands grasp your inner thigh, sending a rush throughout your body. doe eyes noticing the way leon is looking at you as if you’re a sheep, tethered in his sharp teeth, bracing to become a meal.
two fingers rub you over your panties, the new feeling quickly has you inhale sharply. butterflies flutter around in your abdomen. leon hums as his fingers gather your essence that is leaking through the fabric. “there you are, pretty.” leon lays you further down on the couch. his lips kiss you again roughly and you grip at his bicep as his hands quickly discard your skirt. leon impatiently pulls away from your lips to look at the newly found view, lilac panties adorned with a baby blue ribbon. leon’s favorite color.
the wetness from earlier feels as if it’s completely soaking the fabric. you feel utterly exposed like this, so vulnerable in front of leon. “you’re so fucking sexy.” he sighs out once he finally removes the one thing keeping him away from your forbidden fruit. “please leon.” you’re unsure if you’re begging or pleading. the temperature of your body is uncomfortably hot and you’re sure it’s because your soul is already spiraling down to hell. you want to stop leon from inserting his finger into your sopping cunt, but of course you don’t.
“have you ever touched yourself, doll?” leon asks, while fingering you agonizingly slow. you crave for more, not exactly sure of what. you need more of him. you’re heaving at this point, staring into leon’s eyes as he watches you unfold before him, a flower blooming almost too late. “i’m not supposed to.” you choke out the answer while he begins to messily rub your clit. the smirk resting on leon’s lips is haunting you, why does he always look so desirable with that stupid smirk?
“says who? your god?” leon pushes a second finger into your sopping hole, an uncomfortable stretch soon followed by an indescribable pleasure. the erotic sounds of your cunt being touched for the first time reach your hot pink ears. leon curls his fingers against your spongey walls causing you to squirm. the imaginary coil in your lower stomach feels like it’s on the brink of snapping.
“yes.” you moan while he lightly slaps your cunt. “what kind of god deprives his children of a pleasure such as this? don’t you feel good, angel? i know your pussy sure does.” leon smiles at your reaction for his choice of words, you forget how blunt he tends to be. “d-don’t say that.” “your god can’t be all that great if he won’t even let me feel how your pussy squeezes around my fingers.” the blasphemy hits you like a gunshot only temporarily, the pleasure you’re receiving rids it right away.
you’re shaking your head but you don’t know if it’s from the frustration of leon speaking against the lord or if you’re about to reach sweet relief. “leon.” you hiccup, the pleasure becoming too much and your mind is turning into mush. a tight grip on leon’s bicep has him chuckling, looking down at you so pathetically. “you look so fucking stupid. go ahead and cum for me, pretty.” he grants while your cunt is squeezing so tightly around his digits.
back arching off the couch along with the most pornographic moan to ever come out of your chest, the coil snaps. waves of ecstasy crashes within your body, releasing out of your sopping hole. your thighs are shaking to snap close but leon doesn’t let it happen as he gathers your essence up with his fingers. “god, you’re just so fucking perfect.” leon grunts before sticking his own fingers in his mouth, the honey he has been craving falls onto his tongue. you feel yourself get dizzy at the sight.
leon reaches down to give you a messy kiss, tasting your cum on his tongue. “wanna fuck you.” he moans into your mouth, his jeans rub against your cunt and you’re sure your cum smeared onto the denim. you want to stop right here, you want to run straight to church and plead for your life in the confessional booth. however, when leon pulls away to strip off his pants and his fat, long cock hits his abdomen, you feel that indescribable want grow stronger.
your breathing becomes heavy as leon rubs the tip of his cock at your entrance. his cock looks too big for you, fearing he’ll split you open. the taste of bitter metallic hits your tongue and you realize you’re biting your bottom lip too hard. “i’m so lucky.” leon grunts, dragging his thumb across your bleeding lip. “get to be the first to fuck this virgin pussy.” he barely pushes the tip into your tight cunt when you start crying. the pain of slight tearing mixed with the eternal damnation you’re going to face is cutting at your skin. “please.” your vision is blurry through the tears when leon pushes his cock fully into you, you can hear him let out a deep groan.
the way leon’s cock feels inside of you makes you feel so full. the pain of being ripped open for the first time is soon subsided by a mind clouded with desire, yet you’re still crying. leon moves in and out slowly but roughly, hitting a spot within you just right. you moan wearily, salty tears trickling down into your agape mouth. when leon begins to thrust a bit more hard, you’re sobbing out loud moans. leon presses his hand against your throat, “so fucking loud.” he’s snapping his hips into you, his cock bruising the inside of your cunt so sweetly that you feel the coil about to snap again.
“need to shut that mouth of yours next time.” leon grunts, looking at you in a haze. he squeezes your throat as if to test the waters and you choke out a needy moan, your cunt almost suffocating his cock at the action. “such a nasty girl.” leon smirks while picking up the pace of the abuse on your cunt. baby pink nails are scratching at leon’s biceps. you slur out an apology, clearly not in the right headspace to realize that leon is toying with the rosary tangled in your neck. “oh my-” you cut yourself off when leon’s cock repeatedly hits against a spot so sweet, the coil in your stomach feels like it’s tightening.
“say it.” leon taunts. his hand reaches down to messily rub at your clit once more, your eyes flutter shut. you know what he wants and you don’t think you can push yourself further into damnation by saying the lord’s name in vain. “c’mon, doll. tell your god how my cock is making you feel.” leon tightly wraps his fingers around the dainty rosary, you’re pleading at him through your eyes, mouth too occupied by the moans you let out. “leon please.” you cry out, you’re not sure if you’re begging him to stop the blasphemy or to make you cum.
leon soon loses himself in your cunt, grasping at your hips to drill his cock deeper in you. the stars in your eyes are getting brighter, you’re almost there. dirty blonde hair cover leon’s eyes, relieving yourself of the gaze he had on you. “gonna fucking breed you.” leon laps at your neck, biting at your soft skin as if it’s the bread he eats at church. “you want that? want me to fill you up?” you moan out a incoherent yes, too fucked out to understand what he’s even saying. leon captures your lips in a heated kiss, tongues relentlessly clash against each other.
leon’s cock hits that sweet spot one final time before the coil within you finally snaps. “oh my god, leon!” you moan so loudly, throat becoming faintly sore. your body is shaking at the ecstasy that’s somehow stronger than before, nails clawing at leon’s back that you feel like you may draw blood. “there you go, angel.” leon’s words are drowned out by pure euphoria. you feel the warm essence escape out of your cunt but it’s soon mixed with another hot feeling, leon’s own cum. he desperately shoves his cock into you to rid himself of every last drop. you look down to where you two are connected, the lewd sight brings you back down to earth.
if anyone were to rip open your chest to view the way your heart is pounding, almost punching itself out, they’d think you murdered a man. the burden of betrayal is sitting heavy on your shoulders, all the prayers in the world couldn’t save you now. when you look at leon, who is taking in the sight of his cum dripping out of your cunt, the thought begins to become a crimson haze. a string of pearl beads clutched in leon’s fist catches your eye, you look up at him. a blue hue meet yours, the once bright shade now dark. leon lets out a daunting chuckle, “won’t be needing that anymore.”
sprawled out on his palm is a broken chain along with a few pearls and a tiny cross. leon ripped off your rosary.
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ellieslaces · 28 days
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wow. me starting my period this morning makes so much sense🧍‍♀️
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ellieslaces · 1 month
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happy birthday James Potter, I just know we’d be besties ily <3
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