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eiightysixbaby · 1 month

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haiii gf i got a request🙈

older! eddie catching u make him lunch for work and he ends up railing u against the kitchen counter😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫

hiiiii queen 🤭 you always come in with the older!eddie requests bless ur heart.

18+ please! fingering, unprotected piv (he pulls out), use of pet names, food mention obv

Your soft hums from the kitchen are what wake him, the sound floating down the hall and through the cracked-open door.

Eddie stirs, stretching his limbs with a low rumble of a groan, pressing his face into his pillow and inhaling. He can smell the sweetness of your shampoo on the pillow case, and he smiles softly to himself. Sunlight filters through the curtains, casting the room in a honeyed glow. He sits up with another groan, scratching at the soft pudge of his stomach absentmindedly before standing.

He can hear the radio now, your hums following the tune of whichever song comes on. He can picture you in his mind; hips swaying softly as you sip your morning coffee, probably your second cup by now, picking at your breakfast. He can picture your bed head, your sleepy eyes, the smile that graces your face when he comes to say good morning.

What he isn’t expecting when he trods down the hall is to see you making a meal, his lunchbox open beside you on the countertop. He watches quietly as you stack different ingredients to make a sandwich, taking care to make it look good. His hungry eyes rake over your figure, trailing up your legs, lingering on the way your tiny little shorts hug the meat of your ass. He was right, your hips are swaying to the music, tempting him to come right up behind you and squeeze a handful of you.

You reach into the cookie jar, picking out a few of your homemade cookies — snickerdoodles, his favorite — before placing them into a plastic baggie and tucking them into the lunchbox. He stays silent as you cut up strawberries, placing them in a container followed by blueberries, raspberries, blackberries. Giving him a well-rounded meal, wanting to keep him energized and cared for.

Something deep within Eddie stirs, and he finds himself simultaneously aroused and awestruck at the sweetness of your gesture. You’d never gone out of your way to make him lunch before, your relationship still in the early stages, and he feels his heart melt in his chest.

“Well don’t you look beautiful this morning,” he speaks finally, your head whipping around to face him.

“Oh! You startled me,” you laugh breathily, body relaxing entirely after realizing it’s only him.

He steps closer to you, stopping once his front is pressed to your back.

“What’re you doing in here, baby?” he asks, morning voice raspy and deep. It sends a shiver down your spine, shooting right to your core.

“Making you lunch, handsome,” you reply, turning your head to give him a kiss.

“Putting in all this work for little old me?” He looks around at the scattered ingredients, realizing you must’ve already gone to the store this morning to buy half of it.

“It’s hardly that much work,” you say simply. “And yes, we have to keep little old you fed.”

He snorts, letting his big arms wrap around your middle. His lips find their way to your neck, your head tilting immediately to allow him easier access. You whine before you can stop yourself, your hands gripping the edge of the countertop.

“You’re taking such good care of me,” Eddie purrs. “Think I need to take care of you.”

“Ed,” you breathe, squirming under his roaming hands. “You have to get ready for work.”

“It can wait,” he replies, lightly kicking your legs apart with his foot.

He lets one hand trail down your stomach, dipping beneath your shorts and your underwear in one swift motion. His calloused fingers tease your clit, the scruff on his face lightly scratching your skin as he continues to kiss your neck. You’re like putty in his hands, feeling your knees go weak the second he starts touching you. Your heart rate increases, breathing turning into pants and sighs as his thumb circles that sensitive bundle of nerves over and over.

The fabric of his pajama pants stiffens, his cock growing harder by the second. You can feel it pressing against your ass, and you wiggle your hips tantalizingly.

“Mmm,” he hums, a sound that reverberates against you. “Don’t tease, honey.”

He stops his steady pace on your clit, drawing his hand back so that he can utilize both of them to pull down your cotton shorts. Your panties fall to the floor with them, and you kick them aside swiftly as you step out of the garments. Eddie’s hand returns to its previous place, this time slipping two fingers carefully into your heat, wetness pooling around them.

“So wet, sweetheart,” he coos, smirking to himself when you let out a high pitched whine.

“Fuck, Ed,” you sigh, tipping your head back to rest against his shoulder. Your eyes close, reveling in his touch.

His free hand tugs at the waistband of his pants, slipping them down far enough to free his aching cock. The tip is red and leaking when he grabs it in his fist, stroking it a few times for good measure. You’re a moaning mess in front of him, gripping hard at the countertop as his fingers curl expertly inside of you.

“Feel good, baby?” he asks, nipping at your ear.

“Uh-huh,” you nod, incapable of forming any actual words.

“I’m gonna make you feel even better. That okay with you?” he continues, awaiting your permission.

You can hear his fist running over his cock, along with the groan he tries to stifle but fails. You can feel yourself clench around his fingers in anticipation. “Yes, please,” you choke out, wincing slightly when he removes his fingers.

You steady yourself, body practically vibrating with need as his tip rubs against your folds. Large hands grip your hips as he sinks into you, punching the air from your lungs. He starts with slow, agonizing thrusts. Letting the drag of his cock make you delirious as it slides inch by inch out of you before gliding back in.

He’s well-versed in this, had his years of practice, able to have your legs trembling for him in seconds. You’re finding it harder and harder to keep yourself upright as he picks up his pace, pounding into you from behind relentlessly. Your nails dig into the countertop, back arching as his name tumbles from your lips on a loop.

“Such a good girl, feel so good around me, baby,” Eddie grunts, his fingertips gripping harshly into your skin, keeping you in place as he drives into you even harder.

You’re seeing stars, positive you’ve never felt this good in your life. The radio still croons from the corner of the kitchen, the sound hazy and far-off in your ears. You couldn’t name the song playing if there was a gun to your head, Eddie quickly fucking every thought from your brain until all you can possibly think about is him.

The tension in the pit of your stomach builds and builds, a coil that’s ready to snap, and you’re suddenly certain that if you grasp the counter any harder your fingers will bleed.

His balls slap against your skin, cock gliding easily in and out of your dripping cunt. One hand trails up beneath your shirt, kneading your breasts and pinching the nipples between two fingers. You moan hotly, feeling your legs quiver, turning to jelly in real time.

“Why don’t you cum for me, honey?” he rasps into your ear, and it’s enough to send you entirely over the edge.

He curses as your walls squeeze him, clamping down as if your goal is to keep him inside forever. He manages a few more thrusts before he’s pulling out, cumming all over your ass. You can feel it dripping down, coating your skin in his sticky warmth.

Breathing heavy, you come back to reality slowly, dazed. The lunchbox sits packed in front of you, and you’re reminded that you’re on a time crunch. Eddie’s surely approaching the point of being late for work, and he watches you turn around to look at the clock.

“Let’s get cleaned up before I have to leave,” he says, pulling you against him to kiss you sweetly. “I’ll get the shower going.”

You tug on his arm when he tries to walk away, getting his attention once more.

“Did you really get turned on just because I was making you lunch?” you ask with a smirk.

He laughs. “What can I say? I’m a simple man.”

“Noted.”

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #older!eddie munson #older!eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson fanfic #leah’s got mail 💌

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qvietinfvrno · 2 years

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Open starter location: were literally out here on the street okay

The gravestone that had crumbled beneath his fingertips, swallowed up by the earth beneath had read Xavier Shapriro. The dark depths of the casket he’d crawled out of, held the first waking moments of his rebirth. The dank, musty smell of dirt remained engrained on the inside of his nose, even as the fresh air of the world above granted his lungs movement. The world above seemed strange - reminiscent, yet somehow not quite what he remembered. He’d heard her voice - her power call out to him in a great many ways, and despite feeling as though he didn’t yet belong in this place; he knew he needed to find her. “Kasandra,” the name that falls from his lips is rough, expectant as he garners the attention of the stranger moving towards him, “Where can I find her?” In the life he knew before, her name had been taboo - yet understood by all those that heard it.

#* xavier #* tomas #tag this with whichever name u want

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virgincels · 3 months

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SCHADENFREUDE !

ft. leon s. kennedy x fem!reader

tags. p in v, kidnapper/victim relationship, stockholm syndrome, he puts u in the trunk of his car :3, sorta painal, squirting, slapping/hitting a lot.. of it, not non-con or dub-con but he keeps calling it that idk, painful sex, suicide mention cuz it’s leonnnn, sadism

note. haiii a follow up to rotten luck title has nothing to do w the fic i think :3 his character changes like every 5 mins im sorry .. readers character changed a lot too omg just blame it on stockholm! umm sorry for any mistakes please ignore them :3 rbs and feedback so appreciated :3

rotten luck

tumblr removes fics that use, for example, tw non-con and any nsfw tags in general from the tags. for this reason, as i’d like my fic to appear in the tags, please understand that this fic contains dark content under the cut. reading this comes at your own risk.

“What’re you doing?” With a foot in the door, Leon spots you hunched over the mantlepiece.

You jump like you do when he makes a noise over thirty decibels. Luckily, you’re housebroken now, just about, so there’s no piss. Or tears. He has no desire to deal with tears. Or piss or any fluid for that matter. Leon has bad days, and then he has worse days, then there are awful days– It’s only a bad day, but that doesn’t mean he wants to spend his time forcing your head into a puddle of your own piss. Fundamentally, piss is not his concern, he’s potty-trained and has been for a good thirty-four years. He’d like to think a good forty-three years, but he was a criminal bedwetter up until the ripe age of twelve. Foster system does that to you. You make the piss Leon’s concern when you do it on his floor–

“What’re you doing?” Leon asks once more when he wrenches himself away from his piss tangent. He decides to let you off for not answering the first time ‘cause he’s generous like that. Quietly, as everything you do is scarce and ghostlike, you point at the printed photos on his mantle with great interest. There’s three because Leon only really gives a shit about three people. They shouldn’t be out in the open like that. Leon doesn’t remember leaving them out, so he’d like to blame you, but maybe this is a sign of early-onset dementia.

“Who’s she?” You nod to Ashley first, pressed to his side so tightly, so lovingly, so sure that he loves her bombardment. Her affection, whatever it is that she insists it is. He thinks back to tearing her from the clutches of emaciated beings and wonders how he can stand here so normally. As if nothing ever happened. Ashley’s name is the one in the back of his throat, shattered and bloody like glass in a domestic dispute. Then again, he is face to face with his kidnapping victim and all. So it’s not very normal when he looks at the bigger picture. Far from normal, abnormal at the very least. Fucking deranged might be the right term.

“My ex,” Leon lies to see the look of disdain that crosses your face, the unpleasant curl of your lips that irons out when he pets your head. Whether it be for him or Ashley, he wouldn’t like to know. “Joking, baby, I saved her,” Leon settles on saved because there is no other way to explain it, and because he would love for you to know that they’re not his other kidnapping victims and that you’re his one and only kidnappee and he might be impulsive, but he’s not stupid enough to take pictures of and with kidnapped girls. Well, Ashley was a kidnapped girl, not his kidnapped girl, however.

Leon is very feminist, rescuing slender-ankled maidens is his speciality, you’re just an outlier. “I saved her,” he says when you nod at Manuela next, and then for Sherry, he pauses, “I saved her.” Sherry’s face goads him into cowardice, blowing his brains out is difficult when she’s sitting on his shoulder at all times like a Vatican cherub, covalently bonded to his heart or his soul. Whichever matters after you die. “You want a picture too, baby? Autograph?” He kisses your kidnapped little fingers with the guilt of a man who has been pointlessly guilty all his life - now literally guilty by CJS standards for the four months you’ve been captive.

You smile at him, and consequently his drops. “I’m good,” you say, smiling your real smile. It upsets him. “I’ve got the real thing.” When you talk too much he remembers that you’re not a toy or a plaything or anything of the sort. That you’re a real girl.

Sometimes Leon has these moments of startling clarity. You kidnapped a girl ‘cause mommy didn’t love you enough, but daddy hit you hard enough to knock the functioning parts of your brain out of place. You kidnapped a girl ‘cause you got touched back in boot camp, ‘cause you’ve seen a couple hundred people die.

At this point, he simply can’t move on, but he can give up. Every night the gun under his pillow digs into the hollows of his skull. It’s just that Leon can’t leave you, his lucky little girl, he feels responsible for the state you’re in. Stockholm and all. That wasn’t his intention, he’d rather you be dead out of sheer terror, your frail little heart would give out mid Leon’s fucked up chimaera that is part nasty, hot sex and part brutal beating and the most he would have to do is bury your bones in his backyard.

Pretend you never existed. Your name fades into obscurity like every other name does. Your face is just another face. And no one truly cares in the end. America’s love is limited, its affections will go elsewhere, to a prettier kidnapped girl in California or a younger one in Maine. The police will pass you off as a runaway soon enough, and no one would ever have to mourn a bodiless casket. What a mess. Leon didn’t mean to be so charming, didn’t mean to make you fall for him, he didn’t know girls these days were so into getting raped on the daily. Now he’s facing the repercussions of his sex appeal. God forbid he exists in sexy peace.

You gotta make everything his problem, don’t you? Lucky little thing. Leon wonders if you’ve ever had to do anything for yourself. Wonders, ponders, thinks, but he won’t pry. ‘Cause it makes him feel, like, really fucking sucky. That he plucked you out of your perfect little life ‘cause his life is the shittiest little life in this piece of shit world.

He struggles to even utter your name– Your name, god, he bets it was picked out so delicately, so carefully– And that pisses Leon off ‘cause his dad named Leon after his favourite hooker, remove the A from Leona and there you have it! Italian enough for his ma too, hit a perfect sweet spot. Now he’s upset, the perennial guilt has wilted and he’s just fucking exasperated by you. By your luck. By your shamelessness. What twisted little bitch sits there and gloats about having the real thing in reference to her kidnapper. In actuality, it’s Leon that has the real thing.

Leon knocks you down like you’re made of styrofoam. That little yelp never gets old. You see, he’s been struck by this awful migraine and he wants you to feel the same. You should ache like he does, but you don’t ‘cause you’re young and healthy and he makes you go to bed at an appropriate time ‘cause it’s his duty as your kidnapper to make sure you don’t die out of neglect - death via beating is fine and understandable.

You sit at his feet so sweetly, a stray dog that’s wandered into the shrine of a lonely god, curling up at the foot of a wooden statuette to seek some form of solace. Unfortunately for you, Leon is no god, just a normal man with a heart and a soul and a dick that thinks for itself. He does what any man with a dumb dick would do - grabs you by the ankle and lugs you towards the bedroom like a deer carcass. It’s slightly comical, and he knows that ‘cause he hears you giggle a little.

“Rape is nothin’ to laugh about, sweetheart,” Leon says ‘cause that’s the plan, he drops you down on the bed with a thunk. Is it even rape when the other party, a very much kidnapped party, is enjoying it? Truly, you suck the joy out of his life.

“Sorry, Leon,” you go slack and stupid the second he gropes your tit, he’s not one for foreplay, it bores him most days. He’ll eat your pussy ‘cause he likes the taste, but he’s old and his cock is on its last legs and the moment his shit jumps to life it’s best to get it in ASAP.

“It’s okay, baby,” Leon lifts the hem of your shirt, “I know you’re really fuckin’ stupid, so don’t worry ‘bout it, yeah?” God, he’s way too nice. He pulls the shirt over your head and you’re left bare.

“Thank you, Leon,” You’re well-mannered, he’ll give you that, polite little thing, it's terribly endearing, has the walls of his gristly heart caving in.

“You’re very welcome, baby,” he hums, unzipping his jeans to get his dick out before it ultimately droops. Your cunt is sopping, takes to his fingers easily, he curls them upwards to hear those slick clicks. “Spread ‘em.” Leon taps your thigh, and you bend your knees outwards, a foot flat on the bed. It’s nice that you’re wet for him and all, does wonders for his ego, but loose holes are no fun.

“Not there,” you’re so cute when you whine, would look so cute stuffed in the trunk of his car, god. He’d even put a pillow between your thighs to give that cunt some friction. Keep you entertained while he drives aimlessly.

“Baby, you should know better,” Leon chides, spreads your ass and eyes up your tighter hole. “Didn’t ask you, did I?”

“Nuh-uh, Leon.” Comes your automated response.

“What did I tell you?”

“Don’t speak unless spoken to,” you relay the words like you’re reading from a rulebook.

Creepy. Makes him shudder. Maybe Leon did Stockholm you purposefully, he didn’t expect you to respond so well, he was just saying shit. Like, shit that comes out of his mouth when he’s horny, and your sick little brain took his word as law. So, like, that’s your fault and you’re making it his problem. ‘Cause everyone loves to make everything Leon’s problem.

“God, you’re such a clever girl, baby,” he coos because he is so kind and gracious, giving out praise left and right. The tip of Leon’s cock is sticky, drags it through the seam of your cunt to part your folds, kisses your clit with the fat head. There’s a slight gape to your puckered hole when he grabs your ass cheek to open you up. Leon’s forced his way in countless times before, it’s no different this time. With a cock lubed by precum and your drippy cunt, he pushes into your asshole mercilessly.

“That’s a cute face, sweetheart, you gonna do that for me again?” Leon asks, taking a handful of tit as he admires the pain washing over your face— The divot between your brows that he smooths over with his thumb, a quivering bottom lip, eyes screwed shut ‘cause you’re trying to take his fat cock like a good girl should. You make it so easy to hurt you.

“Leon,” you whimper when he bottoms out. His cock kicks inside you, he pulls out to be mean, carves out space and your hole flutters ‘cause it’s so empty— Leon forces his way back in, till the ring of muscle swallows up the base of his cock, and his balls smack wetly against the fat of your ass. Two fingers find their way into your sloppy pussy once more, he feels the ridges of his cock through the spongy, thin walls of your cunt, and you’re liking it too much, fucking him back far too enthusiastically when his thumb presses down on your pulsing clit.

“You’re gonna cum like this, sweetheart,” Leon tells you matter-of-factly, removes his fingers with a pop! and wipes the milky cream dribbling down his wrist on your tummy. “Can you do that for me?”

“No, Leon, I can’t,” you shake your head, trembling fingers wrapping around his wrist to guide him back to your puffy clit.

“Yes you can, baby, you’re gonna do it for me aren’t you?” He tuts, breaking free from your sorry excuse of a grip to lay a firm smack on your jaw. It sends your head to the right, hears your neck crack, he’s sure. “We don’t use words like ‘no’ do we?”

“No…”

Aw, that was a trick question— He gives you another smack to force your head to the left. A little brain damage goes a long way. Keeps you obedient. When you get over the dizziness and face him head-on, you try to blink away the tears to no avail, they roll down your cheeks in pearlescent blobs. Clicker training is unneeded when you have a firm hand. It’s worked so well, any mention of your life outside of the time spent in his home and he’s punching your lights out, now you talk to Leon about Leon, and you think of Leon, and you fuck Leon and you love him– Jesus, okay, he did Stockholm you real fucking bad. No wonder you’re so weird.

Leon rabbits into you, short and shallow thrusts ‘cause it’s harder for you to breathe that way with his cock constantly pushing and jabbing and— Fuck, he’s practically reshaping your insides at such a brutal pace.

“I knew you could do it,” Leon snickers, presses hard on your abdomen to help you cum— And you’re so cute when you do, writhing and lifting your hips up and just looking a little stupid. There’s a stuttered breath, then you’re squirting in sharp bursts, from his cock in your ass alone. “There we go— You did it, baby, did so well—“ He is so fucking sweet to you, talking you through your high and shit. “You love getting your ass fucked don’t you?”

When you don’t respond, too busy trying to recover from an orgasm that’s left you boneless, Leon knocks some sense into you. “I do,” you gasp, teeth clattering like they always do when he hits you. “I do, Leon, I do, I love it— Love you.”

Holy shit. He hates it. That’s what drives him over the edge, that’s what makes him fuck his load into your ass till it’s dripping back down his shaft, that’s what gets his legs all shaky? It sickens him.

“Do you love me, Leon? I love you so much, Leon,” you mumble to him feverishly when he dips low to rest his forehead on yours, a hand on your cheek.

“You’re growing on me, baby,” Leon says, kissing the spot on your cheek he hit less than a minute ago. “Go clean yourself up.” He checks his watch while you limp off to the en-suite. “I’m headin’ out soon.”

“What?” You poke your head past the door frame, genuinely distraught at this revelation. “But you just got home, Leon, I was so bored— Can I come with you?”

“Are you dumb, baby?” Leon blinks at you, and he knows the answer is yes already.

“I’ll just miss you, like, lots ‘n lots.” You’re padding towards him, seating yourself on his lap. He puts his hands on your hips to draw you in, you breathe in his scent. It can’t be pleasant, but you get something out of it. “I want to come with you, please. I won’t run away, Leon, I like it with you.”

“I know you won’t run away,” he hums, squeezing your hips. “What would you do without me? You’d just miss me, baby.”

“And I’m gonna miss you when you go now, Leon.” Your arms loop around his neck. This is fucking disgusting. You’re not his girlfriend, but his literal kidnapping victim and he’s all loved up, letting you stroke his hair and kiss his neck— Fuck, he hates it, hates that he likes you so damn much.

It’s not like he could get away with it. Claire’s got, like, a database in her head for all the fucking women in the world. One look at your face and she’ll know. And how the fuck are you meant to play that off? Bringing a missing girl as your date for the night.

“You can come with me,” he agrees, just not in the girlfriend way, but in the appropriate kidnapped girl way. With a gag in your mouth and your hands behind your back, tucked into his trunk like a cute, fleshy suitcase.

Zip ties are best, rope comes second, and Leon’s tie is probably not on the list of best kidnapping tools. He just wasn’t prepared to take you with him. He’s fairly new to the whole kidnapper thing, it’s quite exhausting.

The sun sets early these days, and it’s not like Leon lives in a crowded area. Only sign of life on the street is him. And you. Panties stuffed in your mouth as a makeshift gag, wrists tied together with the tie Hunnigan got him for Christmas. You could spit the panties out at any minute, but you don’t. You could break free from the shitty knot he’s tied, but you don’t. Leon must be good at this manipulation thing ‘cause you’re so damn docile, letting him lay you down like a corpse, move you around like one.

“All good?” Leon asks, tilts his head to the side as you stare up at him with glassy eyes. Not all good. You’re terrified. He can tell. You still nod though. “Good.” He kisses your head, then shuts you in.

Leon is already a bit of a nervous driver. His windows are blacked out at least. He always feels like he’s doing something wrong. Like there’s drugs planted in his glove compartment, or he’s got blood money on the backseat, or a cute girl in the trunk— Which he does, but he doesn’t usually have a cute girl tied up in the trunk. He usually does get a ticket or two though, able to charm his way out of it, flash his ID.

There isn't a single noise from you, not even a thump, and it worries him. Leon considers pulling over, but he drives on white-knuckled and shaky. Hopes you haven’t rolled out without him noticing. Been flattened by a truck. Jesus Christ, he thought something about this would be gratifying, but his nerves have spiked and unlocked a new level of anxiety. He should hand himself in right now– Obviously, he doesn’t do that, and he parks up outside Claire’s apartment instead, and he is going to check on you, he is, he was–

“Oh, hey you!” Sherry takes him by surprise, her hand is small in his, but it’s calloused. Doesn’t feel like it did when he held it the first time. Even smaller and bloodied. When she smiles at him, soft wrinkles form. “You’re on time,” she comments, and he wants to die because there is a girl in his trunk.

“Right on, kiddo!” He says to Sherry who is thirty-seven and married. Leon would like to think he does well in high-pressure situations, he does do well in high-pressure situations. That’s a fact. He’s great in end-of-the-world-type scenarios, great at saving America from impending doom, he could do it with his eyes closed– Facing the closest thing you have to family not as yourself, but as a creepy, old rapist is insanely difficult and he would prefer to never do it again. However, he is exactly that, plus a kidnapper, so Leon will continue to do it for the rest of his days.

“Are you okay, Leon?” The corners of her lips are downturned– She knows, oh god, she knows, and she’s never going to look at you the same, and she’ll hate you for the rest of her life– “You’re not sick, are you? I heard there was a bug going around, Jake got sick today that’s why he couldn’t come.” Fuck Jake. Leon dislikes him. Her hair is longer, long enough to fall over her shoulders. He’d tell her to cut it, in their line of work it’s a risk, but she looks how she used to look, and Leon can’t say anything to her.

“No, I’m just, I’m cold, it’s cold, right? It’s cold out here, let’s go inside– Claire’s waiting,” he says very smoothly, totally without a single fumble.

“What is up with you?” Claire scans his guilty face when she opens the door, scans it like a robot, not like an observant human. She steps aside to let Sherry in, kissing the shorter girl’s cheek, and then she blocks Leon from entering. “My pipes are bust, Leon.”

“Okay? Can’t help you with that, babe.” Leon is not a fucking plumber. Doesn’t look like one in the slightest. He’s handsome like a washed-up actor, he knows that much is true, does not fit the bill for a plumber.

“You look like you need to shit really bad.”

“God, I don’t, I’m just fuckin’ cold.” Leon shows her his shaky hands as proof. It’s not proof ‘cause these are kidnapper shakes.

Claire stares at him. Ineffable. Unflappable. She scares the shit out of him, might really end up on her busted toilet if she scrutinises him to this degree all night. “You sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah, I’m good, I’m great– I’m cold, I’m fine,” he says normally because he is a normal man with a heart and soul and dick and balls and credit. All the shit normal guys have. And a girl in the trunk, he’s got that too. The cast-iron doubt in Claire’s eyes has Leon on edge for the rest of the night. It never dissipates. Or she’s just looked that way her whole life and Leon’s overthinking it.

“Nah, Leon hates those, don’t you?” Sherry nudges his shoulder.

“Huh?” Leon says intelligently, he’s painfully aware of his blundering efforts at socialising. Painfully aware of you. In his trunk. Cold, scared, and wet ‘cause you’re fucked up. He hates a lot of things like assless chaps and seven-eleven beer and swans. He drinks seven-eleven beer anyway. Does not wear assless chaps though. And he’d prefer to keep it that way. Swans piss him off ‘cause they're beautiful and violent and beautiful things should be passive like you are. Beautiful things were put on this earth to be gawked at. Beautiful things belong tied up in his car.

“Parrots,” she smiles at him again and he’s hit by a wave of nausea.

“What about ‘em?”

“Me and Jake want to get a pet, I’ve always wanted a parrot, you promised to get me one when I was a kid,” Sherry says, it’s not even to guilt trip him, just factual, but Leon feels like the shittiest guy alive, he’s very good at feeling bad.

“I do hate them,” Leon confirms, “They talk too much.” Pets are pets. They roll over, show off their bellies, wag their tails, they shouldn't speak.

“That’s what I like about them!”

Leon gets a headache when you speak for even a minute, that’s why he couldn't deal with a parrot. Or any pet other than his lucky girl ‘cause at least she’s smart enough to know when to shut up.

“It’s not like they talk a lot.” Claire fills her wine glass for the nth time. “They speak when spoken too,” she says while blinking at Leon so directly he thinks she might’ve put cameras in his house to see if he’s being as feminist as he claims he is. “And you can teach them names, I think it’s cute.”

“We took care of a puppy last year, a friend’s one, but Jake doesn’t like dogs at all. Poor thing, she got car sick when we took her out, she was in the back on her own, and she must’ve been so scared-”

A dog in the back of a car all on her own. God, doesn’t that sound familiar? Did you get car sick? Should he have checked up on you? Fuck, you might’ve choked to death on your own car sickness by now. The clock ticks and Leon checks his watch about ten times within five minutes. He can’t leave first. He never leaves first– Oh, fuck, but what if you’re fucking dead? He prays you aren’t. He would appreciate it if you were alive.

“I don’t… I don’t feel great,” Leon says not convincingly when he stands up, then he bends to kiss Sherry on the head. “I love you, sweetheart, we’ll catch up next time, alright?” And he doesn’t give either of them a chance to respond properly. Collecting his keys from the table, his jacket, his gun.

Leon, don’t you want to finish– Leon, you’re leaving– Call me when you get back– I’ll miss you, Leon– Text me back– Should you be driving–

He would love to reassure Sherry, tell her that he’ll miss her so much he could die and that he promises to text Claire back on time, and that he’s perfectly capable when it comes to drunk driving. but he’s pretty sure he’s got a missing dead girl in his trunk. Leon wonders if they can see him clearly from Claire’s fifth-story window. They don’t care about what he’s doing, but the probability that they might be able to see what he’s doing, acting all shady, is scary. The street lights flicker, and when he opens the hatch, he’s bathed in the glow of your halo. Hail fucking Mary and Joseph and Jesus. You’re there, eyes frantic, and very alive, panties still stuffed in your mouth. Could’ve spat those out by now, but you’re a good girl.

“Fuck,” Leon sighs, he smiles like he loves you. “Hi, baby, did you have fun?” He hunches over to get a better look at you, you’re in the position he left you in, on your side, balled up, almost foetal. He slaps your tit, pinches your cheek, pokes your ass like he’s giving you a physical. You shake your head. “No?” Leon pouts at you, then he leaves you in the dark by slamming the lid. The thrill has sorta settled in, or he’s just tipsy, ‘cause he’s giddy about it, about having you back there. Highways are fairly empty at this time, and so now that he’s boosted by you not being dead and cognac, Leon parks up on the side of the road. Opens up his trunk, again, it’s the most he’s ever used it, shit is gonna fall off its hinges.

“You saved me,” you say when he takes your spit-soaked panties out of your mouth. “You found me, sir, I was so scared, I-I thought I was going to die in here.”

Leon’s confused for a second, then he gets it. You’re roleplaying as… as a kidnapping victim. Which you already are. So it’s like the Droste effect, or holarchy, or more simply a thing within a thing. You’re letting him take on the hero part, which he’s most familiar with, he’s good at being the good guy, that’s why Leon is a pretty crummy kidnapper. “I saved you,” Leon says flatly, he goes with it. “You should suck my dick to say thank you.” He didn’t mean to say that so soon, he was gonna play along for longer, but you made him really fucking hard just then. Teary-eyed, snotty, looking so cute and sweetly kidnapped.

Waiting for your response isn’t his style. Leon had his dick out before you even spoke, he was planning on just stuffing it in your mouth, but you went and made up a little story in your head to get him even harder. He shuffles forward, wipes the tip on your lips, slaps it on your cheek.

“C’mon, open up, baby.” You nose at the underside of his cock, then take him into your mouth, hollowing your cheeks and giving it to him so well, how he likes it, choking once you get to the balls. Leon places a hand on the back of your head, forces you still as he pounds your throat, hearing you gag and heave brings him comfort, ‘cause you're struggling and he loves to make you struggle, loves to make you work for it. You've had it too easy, and now you’ve started liking the sex (read: rape), so Leon’s glad he can hurt you without you getting off on it. “Okay, okay, that’s enough, baby, you can stop that now,” Leon says like he wasn’t skullfucking you into a coma, his cock slips past your lips, strings of saliva beading your chin, your neck, your tits.

The trunk is kinda small, when he puts you on your front, your head rests on the backseats, and your legs dangle over the edge. “Can you untie me, sir?” You ask in a scratchy voice, throat shredded.

Leon ignores you. He’s busy scoffing at how fucking soaked you are, misses the days he had to spit on your cunt to get it wet, when he felt all big like his cock was imposing ‘cause you were so dry he had to force his way in, and you would scream so loud it sliced his skin, and he would groan for that contrapuntal effect ‘cause hurting you is the best thing he’s ever felt. Better than opioids, better than regular sex, better than a scalp massage, better than anything that feels mildly great.

Your cunt swallows his shaft too well, and it is hot to know you’re so far gone now, but would it kill your pussy to show some form of resistance? He knocks his hips forward so hard the car jolts, thrusts all his weight into you, so his cock is doing nothing but harm, breaking your cunt in, going past your cervix, womb-fucking and all that good shit. It doesn’t get further than your cervix for obvious reasons.

‘Cause his dick is not a knife, it’s a dick and it twitches when you clench. He likes having a dick, he likes to fuck with it, likes to stick it in places it shouldn’t be, likes to disfigure and wreck and ruin with it - fly in the ointment is that it’s not immune to stupid, sloppy holes that beg for it. Leon shudders, keeps himself buried to the hilt, rolls his hips forward so the tip jabs the fleshy, firm opening of your cervix in painful grinds.

“Leon,” you wheeze, twisting like you’re getting exorcised, “Leon— Leon, it hurts—“

“I know, baby,” Leon pats your ass, giving a sharp thrust forward to make you sob. “Keep talkin’ to me like that, turns me on.”

“Hurts so bad, hurts, Leon, ‘s gonna– ‘s gonna kill me, Leon– Don’t wanna die, I don’t wanna die, please–”

“Shit,” he laughs breathlessly. That was hot. Girls begging for their lives ‘cause his dick is too good. When you turn to glance at him over your shoulder, his hips stutter. “Fuck, baby– You look fucked.” Like you’re terrified of him. That's how it should be. “Don’t go pushin’ me out,” Leon grunts, words punctuated by strokes that have you reeling in all the worst ways.

“I can’t–” Your head bumps the seats when Leon knocks you in the back of the head. Hard enough to stun you into silence.

“Can’t run from it, can you?” Leon bites down on your shoulder, momentary relief from the cruel drag of his cock inside your sticky cunt, now you can focus on his teeth. How he might tear into you. Eat you up. “Gotta take it for me, baby, ‘cause that’s what you're good for. No brains just got a stupid little cunt.” When he cums, you arch into him, and he fucks into you with all he’s got, till you’re stuffed full of his seed. Something to keep your belly warm for the ride home. Leon should get an award for being this considerate.

“Leon, can I sit in the front?” you sniffle, pathetic and floppy and orgasmless.

He sneers at you. “Do you want me to get caught, sweetheart? You wanna get taken away from me?”

“No, Leon…”

Click!

That was cathartic. Leon’s glad you’ve still got pain receptors, you’re not totally gone, clinging on for dear life, but still afloat. He carries his little body bag to the door. “Want a photo?” Leon sets you down on the ground, you cling to the back of his shirt as he struggles with his jammy lock.

“Oh, yeah!” You light up, “‘Cause you saved me!”

“Yeah, baby.” Leon ushers you inside. “I saved you.” From the boot of his own fucking car.

#leon s kennedy x you #leon s kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy smut #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy imagine #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy smut #resident evil x reader #resident evil smut

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lovebugism · 7 months

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hi bug! you are one of the best writers on here. I love your work! I was wondering if I could request eddie and shy!reader watching a scary movie? maybe it’s early on in their relationship and she’s afraid that he’ll think she’s a baby if she says no, even though she’s pretty freaked? I love their dynamic!

ty lovie! hope u like it!! — eddie (the local freak) loves you, horror movies, and halloween, in the order. you (the scaredy cat) just love eddie. (new relationship, fluff, hurt/comfort-ish, 1.7k)

fictober (㇏(•̀ᵥᵥ•́)ノ)

Orange lamplight illuminates the dark trailer. You squint at the brightness, still curled up on the couch and missing Eddie’s warmth. He’s too busy rifling through his collection of VHS tapes beneath the TV stand, searching for a scary movie within a sea of scary movies.

He’s giddy like a kid on Christmas despite having seen all of them a thousand times over. But, then again, the Halloween season tends to be like Christmas for metalhead freaks like the one you love so dearly.

“Okay, Texas Chainsaw Massacre or The Exorcist?” the boy offers when he rises again, chestnut curls as wild as the bright beam on his face. He stands in front of the small television where red names scroll against a black screen and holds both options in eager hands. “Which one do you wanna watch next?”

You shrink inside yourself at the sight of both tapes. On one, a screaming girl — on the other, a masked man with a weapon. Your organs writhe with a fear most irrational. It runs ice-cold through your veins.

You pull the woven blanket up to your chin and shrug, feigning a nonchalance despite your tightening chest. “Whichever one—”

“—And don’t say whichever one I want, alright? You always do that,” Eddie interjects, all boyishly harsh compared to how softly you had spoken. His playful grin hasn’t yet left him, though, and even in the dim lighting, his dark eyes still sparkle when they look at you.

You cower again, more visibly and with a different emotion this time.

The corner of your lip quirks with a poorly hidden smile as you peek at the boy from beneath your lashes. “I don’t mind, Eds. Seriously,” you assure, still quiet in your way.

He pouts like a child, features scrunching in a childlike disdain. “But we always do the stuff I wanna do! You never have an opinion on anything. It’s always just, like, ‘whatever you want, Eds’ or ‘I’m good with whatever, babe—’”

You laugh at his obviously poor imitation of you.

The bubbly sound makes his smile widen.

“—You don’t have to be so sweet all the time, you know? You can be a little mean to me. I won’t mind, I promise.”

It’s in his nature to make dumb, dirty jokes at arguably the worst times — especially with you, ‘cause he loves watching you get all flustered about it. But he thinks if you ever got the least bit assertive with him, he’d turn into a puddle at your feet.

“It’s because I don’t really care what we do,” you confess, warm with the blushy pink feeling he stirs in your chest. “I just like being with you, you know?”

Eddie’s stomach whirls. He’s too metal to let it turn him to mush.

“As cute as that is, you’re not sweet talkin’ your way outta this one, princess,” the boy retorts with a scrunched nose and twinkling eyes. “Pick.”

Too indecisive and too in love with the boy standing before you, you whine, “Eds…”

“Babe,” he grouses to match your pouty tone. His socked feet scuff against the carpet when he walks the short distance to you. “C’mon. You’re killin’ me here.”

A staring contest ensues, each of you stubborn and playfully serious with it.

It’s embarrassingly brief.

It’s hard for you to stare too long at Eddie before you get completely lost in him. You too quickly realize that he’s real — that he’s looking back at you and that he loves you — and you feel a bit like your feet have been pulled out from under you.

Stern, but still gentle, you cave. “Texas Chainsaw Massacre.”

Eddie beams when he gets his way.

“See? Was that so hard?” he teases quietly, bending at the waist to kiss you.

You tilt your chin to meet him halfway. It’s instinct at this point, like he’s got his own gravitational pull. His breath smells like warm nicotine and buttery popcorn as it fans against your chin.

He pulls back before you can reach him, though, and your fluttering eyes widen at the sudden refusal.

You find Eddie already squinting down at you.

“Are you just saying that ‘cause you know it’s my favorite?” he interrogates lowly.

“Maybe I like it because you like it,” you argue, too soft to be as serious as you seem. “Ever thought of that?”

“You’re too sweet for your own good, you know that, right?”

Your playfully taunting gaze gives way to a more genuine grin. “Now, I do.”

Eddie leans in to kiss you. For real this time. It’s a fleeting peck that leaves you grieving. His plush lips press pink against yours for one moment, and they’re gone the very next.

The couch dips beneath his weight when he plops down beside you. He coaxes your folded-up legs onto his lap with an urging hand on your knee.

“Okay, how about this,” he offers with rosy lips so suddenly kissable. “We go down to Family Video — bother Steve for, like, ten minutes — and you get whatever movies you want instead of the old shit we have here. My treat.”

Your chest warms. You’d follow Eddie blindly for the rest of your life if he let you. You’d do whatever he wanted and not think twice about any of it. It feels nice to know he’d do the same for you.

“Any movie?” you press, soft with a girlish giddiness you fight to keep hidden.

“Yeah,” the boy scoffs like it’s obvious. Then, in a vaguely posh accent, he assures, “What my lady wants, my lady shall get.”

You grow so suddenly sheepish, shrinking inside yourself like you always do when you’ve got something to say but lack the confidence to put it into words. It’s dumb to get nervous about it, and you know this, but you don’t want Eddie to think any differently of you — not for a moment, not even in the most innocent way.

“Does it have to be scary?” you wonder with a scrunched nose and a bashful gaze that doesn’t quite meet his.

Eddie falters for a moment. Not because it’s a big deal, but because he thought you liked horror films — that you both had that in common.

“Well— I mean— No. It’s just— It’s October, you know? So, I thought scary movies would be more appropriate. ’Tis the season or whatever.”

“I think I just need a break for a bit,” you confess with a wavering smile, picking tiny balls of cotton from the blanket with a fidgeting hand. “Especially after that last one… It was pretty scary…”

Eddie’s blood runs cold. Too clouded by the haze of puppy love, he thought you were having just as much fun as he was. He thought you were clutching his arm and digging your nose into his shoulder because you wanted to be close to him.

Because he’s an idiot.

Realizing that you’ve been scared out of your mind for the past several hours feels a little like a knife to the gut.

“I thought you liked scary movies…” Eddie quavers with pinched brows.

“I like them because you like them—”

“Babe!” he exclaims suddenly, as though offended by how much you love him.

“What?”

“That’s, like— That’s totally not cool!” he gapes in a boyish outrage. “That means I’ve been, like, fucking traumatizing you this whole time!”

You can’t help but giggle at his dramatics. You’d been scared, of course, but it hadn’t been all that extreme to you. “It’s okay, Eds. It’s not that serious—”

“Yes, it is!” he retorts firmly, with wide eyes and a stern nod. “If I knew you weren’t into them, I wouldn’t have forced you to—”

“You didn’t force me.”

“—To come over every weekend and watch them!”

“That’s why I didn’t wanna tell you, Eds,” you admit with a shy, halfway-forced giggle.

He goes quiet again. “…Why?”

“‘Cause I was scared you wouldn’t wanna hang out with me… I mean, what kinda girlfriend would I be if I was too much of a scaredy cat to watch stupid slasher films with my boyfriend?”

“Well, that’s just— that’s just not true. I just meant that we coulda been doing other stuff together,” Eddie affirms, gentle but in the overtly firm Munson way. A chuckle sputters from his lips as his palm squeezes your knee, warm and reassuring. “Stuff that wasn’t scaring the absolute shit outta you, preferably.”

You don’t know what to say, so you just laugh.

Eddie smiles back at you, mostly because it’s terribly hard not to, but he grows suddenly somber again.

“Seriously, babe,” he presses, leaning closer so you can’t duck away from his sparkling gaze. His chocolate eyes are dark enough to drown in. They flit between both of yours. “You gotta tell me shit like this, okay? You’re not gonna hurt my feelings— or, like, make me like you less or whatever. That’s pretty much impossible, I think.”

Your stomach does a backflip. It unleashes a thousand butterflies that flutter relentlessly against your ribcage. “Yeah?” you press softly and with a shy smile you try to keep hidden.

“Oh, totally,” he answers without thinking twice. “Our friends are idiots, but they’re right— I’m so fucking whipped for you, it’s not even funny.”

That joke was only halfway gratifying when it spilled from Steve or Dustin’s mouth. Hearing Eddie say it — with his nose mere inches away from your own and with his cigarette smoke and candied breath entwining with yours — it’s that times a thousand. A million, even.

“Well, maybe a little,” you tease quietly in return.

Eddie shrugs with a jutted-out lip. “Just a bit, I guess.”

He might as well be telling you I love you. It feels like he is, in his own special way.

“Are we still gonna go to Family Video?” you wonder aloud when the silence becomes too heavy to bear.

“Oh, yeah. You’re getting whatever the hell you want, alright? I’ll buy out the whole damn store if you want.”

He only has mere dollars to his name. You know this, too. But he says it with so much hubris that it feels just as real, anyway.

Beaming fully again, you joke. “Are we still gonna bother Steve while we’re there?”

“Yes,” Eddie answers with a single nod and a deadpan, like he’s offended you would even ask. “That answer’s always gonna be yes.”

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aemnd · 4 months

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can you imagine coming to your chambers after a long day. you find aemond reading by the fire and you just need to release some of the stress to focus on something other than the world outside so you just move in front of him drop to your knees and start undoing his pants. the only distraction you want right now is his cock in your mouth.

⎯⎯ PRETTY, PRETTY ┆ navigation. masterlist.

𝓈𝓎𝓃𝑜𝓅𝓈𝒾𝓈: after a long, tedious day at court, you long for the comfort of your husband − and something else…

༘ ೀ⋆｡˚ warnings: minors dni. smut, canon!aemond 𝓍 wife!reader, afab reader, profanity, slightly mean!aemond (but he’s obsessed with his wife, trust me), [male] oral sex, degrading & pet names.

𝒙𝒐𝒙𝒐, 𝒗𝒆𝒏𝒖𝒔 ༘ ࣪𓂃 ෆ sry this took so long to write out… i didn’t know which direction to go in − i hope u love it nonetheless. ♡!

AEMOND ALWAYS ENJOYED WATCHING YOU − his one-eye focused solely on your pretty face, devouring you once again, silently admiring your sleepy, doe-like eyes blinking up at him innocently, the slope of your cute nose, your soft, flushed cheeks from the burning fireplace behind you, the light glaze of dew on your gorgeous skin from the heat of your martial chambers − gods, you were just so pretty, his pretty, pretty little wife.

fucking perfect, he thinks.

aemond also loves watching the way the tip of your soft, little pink tongue pokes out and gently kitten-licks the flushed tip of his hardening cock, teasing him into growing harder − and oh, fuck, the way your plush, pouty lips wrap around him now, suckling just the head of his cock has him let out a low, murmured curse, unable to stop himself from bucking up his hips, allowing his now fully hard cock to slip further into your mouth, nearly gagging you − however, you don’t seem to mind.

little minx, he calls you inside of his head.

in fact, you seem to enjoy his aggression, owlishly blinking up at him with those pretty doe eyes of yours, as if giving him permission to fuck your throat, making something dark and twisted inside of him release a soft, satisfied purr.

without any warning, you begin taking him deeper into your mouth, the tip of his leaking cock hitting your uvula, making you softly gag as your eyes begin to sting, but you continue on − you continue moving your mouth down, down, down until the tip of your nose nuzzles the neatly trimmed thatch of soft, platinum curls at the base of your husband’s well-endowed cock.

you hum, whimpering as you harshly hallow your cheeks, sucking and slurping at his cock messily, like you were born and bred just to do it − to sit prettily on your knees before your husband and allow him to fuck your mouth, to use your mouth whichever way he desires.

after a few minutes of this constant suckling motion, you do need a moment to breathe properly, pulling back only just slightly and wrapping one of your soft little hands around his glistening shaft, shining with the mixed essences of your saliva and his precum.

you quickly begin pumping him, hearing your husband grunt and curse, one of his big, masculine hands—calloused from his constant use with his blade—roughly bury his long fingers into your luscious locks, his one-eye heavy lidded and focused solely on you, his lips parted just slightly, panting for breath as his taut stomach tightens with the need for release.

without stopping, you continue suckling his leaking tip, swirling your tongue around it quickly, tasting him and humming, hearing him hiss from the vibration of your mouth, “fuck! fuck, have mercy on me, woman!” he growls, yanking on your hair in warning, but you don’t stop.

only, you increase your pace as you fiercely suckle just the tip of his cock, hallowing your cheeks and releasing his shaft from your hand, beginning to quickly bob your head up and down, up and down, up and down, repeatedly and fluidly, listening to your husband’s groans − as though he is in pain, but he is far from it.

as you continue to bob your head on his cock a few more times, taking him deeper each time, you reach up with the same hand you were pumping his shaft with earlier and begin fondling his heavy balls, hearing aemond let out a sharp breath, his blunt fingernails scratching your scalp, making you purr.

“fuck, you little fucking harlot,” he hisses, fisting a handful of your hair and begins to guide your bobbing head even faster than before. “just like that − mmh, fuck, your mouth…! made to suck my fucking cock,” aemond gasps, squeezing his one-eye shut tightly, feeling his balls tightening up almost to the point of pain.

then suddenly, you feel it − long, salty ropes of your husband’s seed, shooting down the back of your abused throat, making you moan breathily around the mouthful of his cock, doe eyes pooling with unshed tears and your soaked thighs pressing together beneath the fluffy skirts of your evening dress.

“that’s it,” aemond coos, keeping his cock lodged down the back of your throat, your nose pressed snuggly against the wet curls surrounding the base of his cock, your throat pulsing around him, making him groan loudly as he continues holding you down on his cock for a moment longer, until he is positive that every drop of his seed is dripping down your throat.

“take it all, that’s a good girl,” he sighs, feeling utterly spent, “we shan’t let a drop go to waste − after all, ‘tis royal seed you’re swallowing, sweet girl,” he continues mockingly, before finally releasing his harsh hold on your hair, which you take great advantage of and pull back, going into a small coughing fit, your tears finally spilling down your flushed cheeks, a small whine escaping you.

the corner of aemond’s mouth twitches, a small, amused smirk curling up on his lips, “awh, did i fuck your little throat too harshly, sweetling?” aemond asks, giving you a mocking pout.

you can only whimper and give a tiny nod of your head, pouting as you reach up and wipe away your tears, making aemond release a low, breathless chuckle, before tutting and gesturing over towards your martial bed.

“get on the bed and allow your beloved husband to return the favor.”

fin

#⠀࣪⠀ׅ ♡ ⠀࣪𓂃 #༯ venus’s works ༘˙𓂃𑁤 #hotd #house of the dragon #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond targaryen drabble #aemond targaryen smut #aemond targaryen fluff #aemond oneshot #aemond one eye #aemond fanfiction #aemond fandom #hotd aemond #hotd imagine #ewanverse #ewan nation #ewan mitchell

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kittycatkennedy · 3 months

Text

BACKSEAT

CONTENT/WARNINGS: smut 18+, fem!reader, exhibitionism (I suppose (it's in a car)), ← car sex, thigh riding, pet names, leon being teasy, imagine whichever version of Leon u want but I wrote with ID in mind

Leon thinks he’s subtle. He’s really not. Beneath the guise of a drive-in movie, where a Valentine’s Day-themed slasher plays on the big screen, ten minutes ago he’d reached over the center console to place his hand on your bare knee. Inconspicuous. Seven minutes ago, his hand slid up towards your thigh, thumb stroking your skin.

And, one minute ago, he’d slid it further north beneath the hem of your shorts to trace the band of your underwear. You entertain it, only because he’s surely not going to try to do anything where anyone who looks for more than a second can tell what you’re doing.

“What are you doing?” you ask once his finger dips beneath the band of your underwear.

He turns away from the movie and shrugs. “What does it look like?”

“Like you’re trying to get us charged with public indecency.”

“Uh-huh. That’s my goal, obviously.”

You scoff and he leans over to kiss you, handsome features lit red by an unfortunate pickaxe stuck through someone’s face onscreen. Undeterred, he withdraws his hand and opts to push it down the waistband of your bottoms instead, thumb finding your clit over the thin fabric of your underwear.

“This gets you going?” you ask, incredulous, and jab a finger towards the murder scene playing out on the big screen once he’s kissed you breathless.

He gives you an unamused look as though the answer is clear-as-day obvious. It’s getting harder and harder to pretend you’re unaffected, unbothered by this.

“You get me going. And I think the feeling is mutual,” he turns in his seat to place his other hand on the small of your back. “Pretty sure you wore these shorts just for me. Not suitable for February weather. They’re really short, baby, you must be cold, aren’t you?”

Caught. God, he knows you too well. Not that you were hoping on getting some action in the car; you’d thought he’d be able to keep his dick in his pants until you got home. Decidedly wrong. But now that it’s started, it’s not gonna stop, so he pulls his naughty hand out of your shorts and ushers you into the backseat with a swat to your ass.

Once you’re situated in the middle seat, he drags you into his lap and takes your cheeks in his hands to kiss you long and hard. Almost as if on instinct, your hips grind against his thigh, and he breaks it to look at you.

He pulls away from the kiss, clearly, what you’d done hadn’t gone unnoticed. “You’re desperate tonight, aren’t you? That’s fine. C’mon, then.”

He slaps your ass again and takes you by the waist, encouraging the drag of your clothed cunt against his thigh. And it feels good. Better than you’d expected, which is why your brows furrow and your lips part in protest, because you shouldn’t be doing this in public.

“Leon,” you huff, words smothered and dying as his lips press against yours again.

Not a whine of protest, no, one that says more more more, please, and he’s got you right where he wants you. Trapped in his web. Impossibly warm against you, forehead pressed against yours, so this is what he’s been after all night. All the lingering touches too high, a ghost of breath against your ear.

Thank god for his dark window tint, because just one glance from a passerby in the wrong direction would land you both in boiling water. Never mind that. He squeezes your waist tight, pulling you back and forth against the denim of his jeans.

“This is what you wanted, huh? Dressing in these shorts?” he grunts.

“Yeah,” is your breathless response, choked on air.

“Yeah? Aw,” he coos, mocking. “I never knew you were so naughty.”

If he’s trying to get you wetter than you already are, it’s working. The seat of your underwear is soaked through, uncomfortable and sticking to your skin. He doesn’t care. Still doesn’t when you grind your hips down hard, and still doesn’t when there’s a noticeable wet patch formed on his jeans. He’s far too engrossed in you, watching your eyes screw shut and your chest heave with every breath you take.

Too much, not enough. He sets your pace. So much that it leaves your head dropped against his shoulder and renders you dizzy, not enough to make you cum. Until it is enough, and your orgasm overtakes you and has you gasping atop his lap. He strokes down your waist, to your hips, and clears his throat and watches lovestruck as your thighs shake.

Once you’ve regained a semblance of decency, righted your clothes from where they were pushed up and aside and away, and he swims back into your hazy vision, you’re able to slide off his lap and into the seat beside him. Only then do you notice the wet patch on the crotch of his jeans, a mark you know isn’t from you.

You’re just about to speak, to call him out, when he beats you to it.

“You really shouldn’t wear such… small clothes during the winter,” he says matter-of-factly. “I’d hate for you to catch a cold.”

“Good thing I have you to keep me warm, then.”

He laughs nervously, hands shifting to cover the damp patch on his jeans. “Good thing.”

#leon kennedy #leon s kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy x y/n #leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy fanfic #resident evil #resident evil fanfiction #x reader #my writing

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explorevenus · 1 year

Text

something permanent ♡ yandere!leon kennedy x reader

nsfw (18+) - minors pls dni i will scream

this is a dark fic for a multitude of reasons. if any of the following bothers/triggers you, do not read: yandere!leon, stalking, kidnapping, drugging, corruption/training, forced daddy kink, noncon, forced breeding, body horror, gore, & blood

in other words-- DEAD DOVE, DO NOT EAT.

ahem. now that that’s over.

word count - 4.4k

description - nothing in leon’s life was ever permanent and his life circumstances made sure of that. over the years he was beaten down from a bright-eyed rookie police officer to a weary and angry shell of his former self. when a chance meeting brought you into his life, he knew what he had to do. he knew you had to be something permanent.

tags/warnings - yandere!leon, dark!leon, leon being patronizing and condescending and sickly sweet, fem/afab!reader, stalking, kidnapping, drugging, corruption/training, forced daddy kink, pet names (doll, sweetheart, princess, baby, puppy, etc.), noncon, forced breeding, housewife kink, body horror (spoiler alert he rips your IUD out with his bare hands), slight gore, blood, noncon, stockholm syndrome if u squint, dollification if u squint, descriptions of vomiting, no use of (Y/N)

a/n - ok i genuinely don’t know if anyone even wants this but i personally find it egregious how little yandere!leon content exists out there in this world because listen. i know a lot of people consider leon submissive and breedable but personally i believe this broken angry man just wants a sweet little thing to dote on and take care of to make him forget about the horrors of his life and he will stop at nothing to make that happen ♡ anyways. enjoy. and if it’s not ur cup of tea idc keep scrolling :^)

p.s. this is obviously a very canon-deviant, borderline crack fic so it’s not really established which leon this is outside of referring to the events of re2 being a long time ago, so go wild with your interpretation of that to read this as whichever leon is ur favorite ♡ i personally like to imagine post-re4 or infinite darkness leon !! ;w;

read part 2 here !! ♡

my masterlist ♡

my ao3 ♡

fic under the cut, thanks so much for reading and i hope u enjoy ♡

-venus ♡

You were slow to wake, which wasn't particularly unusual... as of late, but your body felt so heavy, like your muscles had dissolved into mush overnight. Consciousness gradually took its hold of you, and as it did, you began to realize that something seemed off. Different. Wrong, even. You peeked your eyes open, vision blurry with sleep, but you could see you were beneath your pink comforter, a plush of yours held closely to your chest, all normal so far...

But your walls aren't navy blue, they're white... They're supposed to be white--

You jolted wide awake, panic coursing through your weak body as you struggled to even sit up. That's when you noticed an unfamiliar, muscular arm draped over your waist, and that dialed up your anxiety about tenfold. It was hard to move, but you were able to turn your head enough to catch a look at the man it belonged to.

Strong, blond, maybe a bit tired in the eyes... maybe a bit familiar looking... but you were crying now, blurring your sight all over again.

"Shh, shh... you're okay, sweetheart, you're safe now," He hushed, holding you closely to him as you struggled. Smooching the top of your head, he spoke into your messy hair, "I've got you. I've got you, princess."

But... how? The last thing you remembered was tucking into your own bed, in your own apartment, and falling asleep there, how could you have possibly wound up in a stranger's bed with zero recollection of ever leaving yours? Your head spun as you tried and failed to fend off the unwanted affection with weak arms. His hold on you didn't dare budge as he continued to coo softly into your ear, to reassure you that you were safe, that he wouldn't let anyone, or anything, hurt you.

The anxiety stewing within you finally reached a tipping point, twisting your stomach into tight knots, and that's when you spoke your first words since you'd awoken. "I-I'm gonna throw up," You wept, clawing weakly at the covers and, well, at him, for freedom.

Thankfully he was quick to act, scooping you into his arms as he sat up and rose from the bed, carrying you to the adjoined bathroom. When he turned the light on, you managed to get a better look at his face as you passed by the mirror, and it took you a second to recognize him, partly due to your state of delirium, but primarily because you only knew him very vaguely. You had only met him once at work many months ago, when he'd sparked up a conversation with you as you made him his coffee. After that, he became a regular at the café you worked at-- you remembered his name was Leon.

So why were you waking up in his bed, with your belongings lying around like you'd lived here the whole time?

Your knees hit the tile and you began retching immediately, flinching as he reached forward to collect your hair away from your face. Puking on an empty stomach is never a fun time, but your nerves were alight with panic and every time you reminded yourself of your predicament, a new wave of nausea would crash over you. He rubbed your back sweetly, but it didn't help.

Once the vomiting eventually subsided, an awful, hollow pain took place of it. Your thoughts were running at a thousand miles per hour. You didn't have the time to acknowledge it, let alone nurse it, outside of clutching your shirt at the waist.

"Let me get you some water, babe," Leon said as he hesitantly stood from your side, eyeing you worriedly like you'd just fall to pieces if he let you out of his sight. "You poor thing..."

But all you could think about was getting out of here. "N-No, no, what time is it? I have to get to work--"

"I don't think so, sweetheart," He interrupted. "You're sick, you should be in bed."

"I'm fine," Much to the protest of your jellied legs, you pushed yourself up from the floor and fought through the head rush in an attempt to slip past him, but he simply caught you at the waist and brought you to a halt. Your ears were ringing, the room spinning around you, and you still weren't sure how to interpret what was even going on here. "L-Let go of me!" You cried out.

He simply hushed you, holding you tightly to his chest and petting your hair as you writhed, failing miserably to get him off of you. "Don't worry about work, okay? Just rest up and get better. I'll call them for you."

Your stomach sank even further-- what the fuck is happening right now?

Despite your thrashing he managed to lead you back to the bed as gently as one would fine china, scooping you up into his arms so he could lay you down exactly where you'd awoken earlier. Your chest heaved with sobs as you shrank into yourself in an effort to get away from him.

His eyes left you for just a moment as he reached for the covers, no doubt to tuck you in-- in a split second decision, you seized that time to scramble out of his bed and break for the door. Sadly, as perhaps you should have seen coming, he was more than strong and fast enough to catch up to you, even caught off guard. As soon as your shaking hand made contact with the cool metal doorknob, he halted you where you stood with a bruising grip on your bicep.

You cried out, trying in vain to peel yourself away from him, but it was no use.

"Come on, silly baby, you heard me," He tsked, dragging you back toward the bed. "No need to be running off anywhere, especially on a sour stomach."

"P-Please--" You gasped through tears.

"I'm sorry, little one, but that's final," Leon hummed with a patronizing but oddly sweet tone. It was as if he were scolding a temperamental child.

He basically wrestled you back into the bed, enveloping you tightly in his arms as he laid down beside you. You struggled against his grasp, but again, it was absolutely no use. He simply pet your hair and pressed soft kisses along your cheek and jaw, attempting to soothe you with restraint and unwanted affection.

You sucked in a labored breath, hiccupping, "Don't do this to me, please don't do this to me... I-I just wa-wanna go home, jus' wanna go h-home... Leon please--"

"Shh... oh, good heavens. You are home, princess," He mused, brushing away a stream of your hot tears with his thumb. "You'll see. Just relax and let me take care of you."

Nothing in Leon's life was ever permanent.

All he'd ever wanted was the American dream, to serve his community and meet a pretty girl to share his life with, to settle down in a big house with a fenced yard and two or three little Kennedys running around, maybe a dog. What he wouldn't give to come home at the end of a long day to his beautiful wife, belly swollen with his children, preparing dinner in the kitchen while the existing little ones play with their toys in the other room.

He would enter, slipping off his shoes with a relaxed sigh and a "Honey, I'm home!" to which the aforementioned little ones would rush to the door to hug him at his knees. He'd put one up on his shoulders while the other tugged at his hand, turning into the kitchen to give his beautiful wife a kiss. She would ask of his day and he would say it was good, but better now that he's home with her. With his free hand he would cradle her belly and ask "What's for dinner, you two?" to which she would reply "Your favorite," and as he smiled and thanked her with a kiss he would be silently plotting to thank her properly after the kids are asleep by fucking her full of his cum.

That was all he'd ever wanted. But, day after day after god forsaken day, the chance grew slimmer and slimmer until it had shriveled into something molecular. He didn't even get through his first day at the police station before everything went to shit.

Because of this, Leon began to lose himself over the years. He was no longer the bright-eyed rookie officer looking forward to his even brighter future. He was a broken man, worn down to the bone by years of death, plague, losing everyone he'd ever loved in one way or another-- Leon couldn't take the loss anymore. He wanted-- no, needed-- something permanent, something to give him even the slightest taste of that dream he once had.

When he met you, it wasn't even a question anymore. He knew you were the one. One way or another, he would have you.

He couldn't court you in the traditional way, of course-- it was too dangerous for you to be seen with him. After all, everything he'd ever touched had a way of turning to shit. So, it began with following you home after work so he'd know where you lived. Soon after that he would let himself in when you weren't home-- you weren't smart enough not to keep your key under the mat, furthering how sure he felt that you needed him to take care of you-- he would take little things of yours home with him just to have your scent around.

At first it was just little things like near-empty bottles of shampoo and stray pairs of panties from your laundry basket. Then it was sweaters from your closet, chewed gum and used flossers from your trash can. He'd pay close attention to your grocery lists and what you kept in your pantry so he'd know what kind of food you liked.

When you did come home, he would sneak out quietly and watch you through your windows, familiarizing himself with your routine. The first thing you'd do when you came home from a long day of work was kick off your heels and change into something comfortable to do your yoga. After a while, you'd pull yourself up from the pink mat and cook dinner. After you'd eat, you'd relax with a book or a video game for a bit before taking a shower and changing into pajamas. Then, you'd brew yourself a mug of tea and retire to the bedroom for the evening where you'd watch documentaries or put on white noise until you eventually fell asleep.

At 7:00 a.m., you'd wake up in the morning and do it all over again.

All he could think about was what he'd do when he finally had you all to himself. Under his roof, you would never have to work another day in your life. Gone would be the days of pouring coffee and baking pastries for random idiots who treated you like shit. All you would ever have to worry about is being pampered, having your entire day to yourself, waiting for him to come home, spending all the money on his credit cards.

And carrying his children, of course.

So, as he held you tightly in his arms while you sobbed and begged to go back to that tiny apartment, all he could think about now was how to fix this. How to convince you he really loved you, how to make you feel truly at home.

The first few weeks were hard for him. Really, really hard.

You were refusing to eat, laying wide awake at night, swinging rapidly between sobbing, screaming and complete apathy. Sometimes he would come into the bedroom and catch you fiddling with the window, or attempting to circumvent the lock on the door by stuffing the mechanism with tissue. You would hit him, kick at him and spit in his face, even as you grew weaker and weaker with malnourishment, not that you really stood a chance before that anyway.

Still, it was hard to watch you shrink in your clothes. It was hard to see your cheeks hollowing by the day. It was hard to hold back your brittle hair while you'd vomit from the nerves, still trying to fight him off of you. It was hard to watch your body tense every time he entered the room.

Just when he'd began to lose hope, he discovered a neat little tool to help you behave. In some countries it was called "devil's breath." The slightest bit of powder could be sprinkled into your water, or over your food, or even into your clothes-- it absorbs through the skin-- and within minutes it would render you quite pliable. Leon didn't want to drug you, of course-- he liked you better when you were lucid-- but it certainly felt like a good place to start, a helpful tool to train you.

When he'd give you a dose, you would let him coddle you without incident. You would lay limp on his chest while he played with your hair and felt your soft skin beneath your shirt. You would allow him to spoon food or tip water into your mouth. You would let him dress you up like his perfect little dolly. You would blush and whimper and whine, and more importantly, not fight him, while he fucked you full of his cum, just like his dream.

There was just one problem-- after about two months of trying daily, it would seem his seed wasn't taking.

Your heart pounded in your ears as the sound of Leon's footsteps nearing the bedroom door grew louder. You glanced over at the clock-- it was 6:15. He was off work for the evening and you knew what that meant.

The lock clicked quietly before the door creaked open, revealing your captor.

"Honey, I'm home!" He smiled excitedly, approaching the bed with a glass of water in hand.

You knew it was for you. You knew he had done something to it. You also knew you didn't intend to drink it.

"W-Welcome home, daddy," You said in a near whisper, forcing a half-smile. While you had definitely lost the majority of the fight in you, that didn't mean it didn't nauseate you to comply with his wishes. "Did you have a good day?"

Tucking your hair behind your ear, he offered you the glass of water while he replied as he always did, "My day was fine, but it's so much better now that I'm home with you, princess."

You smiled at him like it was the first time he'd ever said it, taking the glass with a shaking hand. You stared at it for a moment before mustering up the courage to say, "D-Daddy, I don't want the medicine anymore. I don't think I need it, and it doesn't make me feel good."

"You don't want your medicine anymore, baby?" He asked, tipping your chin up to look at him. You shook your head, rounding your eyes to convince him that much more. "Well, alright, but you have to promise to behave for me."

Now you were nodding, a little bit too eagerly. It was sort of humiliating. "I promise, daddy, I'll behave! I don't want the medicine anymore. I promise I'll be good."

With a proud grin he took the glass from your hand and set it on the nightstand, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "That's what I like to hear, babydoll. You know, good little girls get rewarded..." His large hand spread over your thigh, inching up toward the hem of your baggy shirt.

You stiffened, but didn't push him away. He smirked, dipping his head down to kiss at your neck, large hand sliding up your shirt until he nudged it up enough to pull it off. You were bare for him now, save for panties, and given your experience with him you knew it wouldn't be long until those were discarded somewhere across the room. With a gentle hand at your shoulder he pushed you onto your back, your legs hanging off the side of the bed, and you were curious where he was going with that until he sank to his knees in front of you and began pulling your panties down.

Your eyes screwed shut, thankful that he couldn't see your face as he spread your thighs and greeted your cunt with a slow lick up the length of you. You gripped the sheets with white knuckles, pretty much holding your breath to keep yourself from kicking him away from you. His fingertips buried into the plush skin of your thighs to hold you apart as he began to eat you out more passionately, suckling your clit up into his mouth and lapping at your hole like he was starving.

If there was one thing you would give him credit for, it would be his skilled tongue. Perhaps he was crazy and obsessed, but he certainly knew how to translate that obsession into something that benefitted you both. You wouldn't have succumbed to it so willingly if he weren't at least good at it.

Still, it was hard to feel any enthusiasm. His attention might have felt good physically, but it certainly didn't feel good mentally.

You flinched when you felt a fingertip prodding at your cunt. He pulled away just far enough to tsk, "Relax and let me make you feel good, puppy. You said you would behave for me."

"Y-Yes, daddy," You muttered, continuing to clutch the sheets as you tried to control your breathing.

His thick index finger sank into you down to the knuckle, almost immediately curling up to brush against the spongy spot within you that made you see stars. As much as you tried to fight it you gasped, quickly bringing a hand up to cover your mouth, but the sound you'd made hadn't slipped past Leon. You felt him smirk against your skin as he pressed sloppy kisses to your thigh, reaching up with his free hand to force yours away from your face.

"Don't be shy, princess," He spoke against the inside of your thigh, trailing kisses up to your clit. "I want to hear just how good it feels."

You whimpered, hips squirming into his affection, and he chuckled approvingly, bringing his mouth back to you fully to continue eating you out while he fucked his finger into you. Soon after his index finger was joined by his middle, and you keened as he reached more deeply into you than he possibly ever had.

He pumped his fingers in and out for a moment, alternating between lapping at your cunt and kissing your thighs, and just as the coil inside began to tighten he suddenly... stopped?

You waited for a second, catching your breath, expecting him to continue any minute. But he didn't. Instead, he took on a tone that froze your blood as he asked, "Sweetheart, what is this?"

Then, you felt a sharp tug at your insides that made you yelp.

"Leon!" You shouted at him in a break of character, attempting to scoot away from him, but he grabbed your hips to still you. "That hurt!"

Another tug. You cried out, trying as you might to snap your thighs shut and push him away, but he wasn't budging.

"You never told me you had an IUD."

"Well, I do, so stop yanking on it! It hurts--"

The next words out of his mouth truly fucking broke you.

"That just won't do. It's no wonder you're not pregnant yet."

You sat up immediately. "Pregnant?"

He ignored you, tugging at it again. You screamed.

"L-Leon, don't! I can get it taken out by a doctor, I swear, I'll get it taken out!"

He shook his head. "And wait even longer to knock you up, pretty girl? Not happening. It's coming out now."

You screamed again, thrashing in his hold. He withdrew from inside you for just a moment, pinning you to the bed by your hip while he reached for your panties on the floor and shoved them into your mouth to silence you.

"There, there, angel. It'll be over before you know it, like ripping off a band-aid," He hummed, pressing a kiss to your forehead as you screeched through the cotton. "I'm gonna give you my babies, I promise. Gonna make you a mommy, and we’ll be so happy."

Before you could properly react he forced his fingers back inside you, yanking at the device until you felt a sickening tear and the unmistakable heat of blood rushing out of you. You curled into yourself, wailing, gasping for breath through the panties in your mouth as he withdrew his blood-soaked fingers, holding up the gory IUD in the light.

"There you are, princess. All better," He smiled contently, discarding the device on the bedside table. "You did so good. You were so brave for me."

You were bawling, shrieking through your gag as your vision blurred into white. Leon kissed up your thighs before standing to unbuckle his belt, and he didn't get much further than that before the panic and agonizing pain got to you and you lost consciousness.

You woke up the next morning with your thighs sore and sticky with blood. You lifted the comforter to see a deep red pool seeping out from between your legs, and the more you started to wake up, the more aware you became of the pain. You were cramping terribly, sweating buckets, your ears were ringing and you felt weak. Leon had left for work already, so it was up to you to get yourself to the bathroom.

Your entire body was trembling as you stumbled out of the bed, dripping blood in a trail behind you as you dragged yourself to the bathroom and crawled into the bathtub. You peeled off your pajama shorts and panties, watching in horror as a mixture of thick blood and cum spilled out of you and ran slowly toward the drain. Once again, you began to cry. Obviously he'd had his way with you after you passed out, buckets of blood be damned.

Even with your foggy, staticky brain, you couldn't stop thinking. Thinking about the fact that he had no intention of taking you to a hospital, so there was really no telling what might happen with your profusely painful and bleeding sex. Thinking about how fucking screwed you were now without your IUD, your best defense against falling pregnant with your captor's child. Thinking about the fact that if he wouldn't even take you to a doctor for this, he must be expecting a home birth if you were to become pregnant, which you doubted he was qualified to handle and therefore had a very good chance to result in your slow, painful death.

You couldn't stand the shivering anymore, so you filled the bathtub with hot water. It felt nice, though it was rather gross that the water was stained a glassy rose color with your own blood, not that you really had the strength to care in the moment.

In fact, you didn't have much strength at all. It wasn't long before you found yourself losing consciousness once again.

"Fuck, princess, can you hear me?"

You were trying to open your eyes, to twitch a finger, anything, but it was so hard.

"Shit. Stay right here, babydoll, I'm gonna get you some help, okay? I promise. I never meant to hurt you... shit...”

You heard some shuffling, pacing and possibly Leon talking to himself in the other room. You figured he was trying to decide whether or not to take you to a hospital. Part of you hoped he would and the other part of you hoped he would just let you die there. More than anything, you just wished you would have let him drug you in the first place so maybe you wouldn't be in this level of pain.

After what could have very well been 20 seconds or 20 minutes, Leon kneeled beside the tub and draped a cold washcloth over your forehead, reaching into the bloodied water to pull the drain. With what little control you had over your own movement you managed to crack your eyes open, which seemed to please him.

"Oh thank god... thank god, baby. I almost thought I lost you there," He huffed, voice shaking. "Listen to me closely, princess. Stay with me. I'm going to take you to a doctor but you have to be a good girl, okay? You have to be good for me and go along with what I say, even if it isn't true. I'm just doing what's best for you so you can get all better, okay?"

You nodded weakly. You weren't in any position to put up a fight, and all you really wanted was an end to the pain. Besides, he couldn't supervise you constantly at the hospital. There had to be at least some opportunity to tell someone what he'd done to you.

He somehow managed to dress you in some comfortable clothes of his, a soft black t-shirt that hung halfway down your thighs and a pair of black shorts with some little socks of yours to protect your feet. Then, he carried you princess-style out to the car where he bundled you up in the passenger seat and buckled you in.

As he pulled hurriedly out of the driveway, he made a phone call to someone.

"Hey, it's me... I need the best people we have in the infirmary, stat. I'm on my way now," He spoke sternly into the phone, white knuckling the wheel. "I'm fine, it's not for me, it's my girlfriend. It's a long story that I'll tell you when I get there, but she's bleeding pretty bad. I found her unconscious when I came home... I appreciate it, thanks. See you in 10."

Leon reached over the center console to squeeze your thigh in reassurance.

"You're gonna be just fine, princess. I'm gonna make sure they make you all better, okay?"

Your stomach sank. He obviously wasn't taking you to a hospital. From the sounds of it he was taking you somewhere he had a good amount of leverage, somewhere everyone knew him, held him in high regard and wouldn't dare challenge his word, let alone take yours over his. You slumped to the side, resting your head on the cool window with a quiet bonk. Leon was quick to ask if you were okay but you couldn't muster up a response. Your ears began ringing again and the world around you collapsed into tunnel vision.

part 2 !!

#venustext #sintext #resident evil #leon kennedy #yandere!leon kennedy #dark!leon kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #yandere!leon kennedy x reader #dark!leon kennedy x reader #dead dove do not eat #something permanent

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ciellunee · 5 months

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hey hi hello could u do a fic with toji fushiguro and maybe gojo?

one of them (or both 🤭) with a reader who has a very big attitude. like always making up comebacks, acting like a diva, etc. she also has really great hair and outfits. it can be sfw or nsfw—whichever one works better.

Hey! I hope you're doing good✨️ enjoy reading and keep requesting♡

Bratty reader x jjk men

Includes - Toji fushiguro, Gojo satoru

Tw⚠️- contains NSFW 🔞 minors dni

☆Toji fushiguro☆

At first, he's charmed by your attitude. Nobody ever dared to talk to him like that, but you, you were different.

You're gorgeous. He's in awe of the way you present yourself. From your hair to clothes, your figure and personality, everything is charismatic. Cherry on top is that attitude of yours. You know just what to say. Sometimes, it hurts his ego, but mostly, he enjoys that cute little smirk you have with every spicy comeback.

"Tojiiii, you always have to work on weekends," you whined. 'Some people need to work in order to earn money princess, unlike some who'll laze around the house munching on chips and then complaint they're getting fat.' He shot you a devilish smirk.

"Funny how you're still living under my roof when you work, and I laze around" getting closer to his ears you whisper - ' talk to me like that again and you'll be sleeping on street'

Acting like a brat? He'll make sure he punishes you.

◇NSFW◇

Toji fushiguro doesn't play when it comes to punishments.

He knows how to knock some discipline into your bratty self.

Will pound you from behind and makes you look in the mirror while you continually repeat- "I'm sorry daddy, I've been a brat!"

Degradation is toji's kink. Asks you to repeat things like 'who's sl*t you are' and makes you beg for forgiveness.

Fucks you hard all night until you pass out from all the orgasms you've had.

"Next time make sure your cu*t can keep up with your mouth princess"

☆Gojo satoru☆

Satoru is fun loving when it comes to you. He adores you so damn much that it doesn't matter how bratty you get sometimes.

One thing everyone knows about satoru is that, he's a very jealous man. He knows you're gorgeous. Your shiny locks, elegant clothing and beautiful skin....everything about you makes him crazy.

"Babyyyyyyy!! I miss your cuddles, you're always so busy" satoru groans. 'I can stop working as soon as you stop leaving your damn work unattended' you shrug.

"You're so mean I bet utahime would treat me alot more sweetly" he smirks. He's petty and he knows that. 'And I am pretty sure Kento would be my ideal match. He never complaints, always have my back, he's a great cook and above all......he's so hot!'

This was enough to throw satoru off the table. You're a mean brat and he NEEDS to cater to that.

◇NSFW◇

"Yeah?? Want to cum babygirl" your moans are slippery and eyes filled with tears. 'Toru ple-please' you whined.

Satoru edges you the whole night, reminding you who he his. "You're always so wet for me"

Asks you to moan his name louder and louder so that you know who's making you feel so good. Loves it when your mind breaks and the only thing you can think about or speak about his him.

"Weren't so sweet a while back? You think kento can take care of you like this? You think kento can make you feel like this? You think kento can make this cunt throb this much?"

Edges you to the climax multiple times but removes his hands until you cry and beg for his forgiveness.

I'll let you cum once I feel you're truly sorry. Till then....let's see how much this pu*sy can endure.

Tags- @brunette-bitch77

#jujutsu kaisen #jujustsu kaisen x reader #jjk drabbles #jjk x reader #toji fushiguro #toji smut #jjk smut #toji x reader #gojo satoru #gojo x reader #gojo smut #bratty

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kairiscorner · 9 months

Note

omds i luvvvvvvv your writing so much 🤭🤭 could i req a earth 42 miles or a hobie brown fic where reader gets bullied for dating miles/hobie (whichever one u pick 🖤) because people think she’s “not good enough for him” because she’s like one of the quiet kids she doesn’t go to like parties and stuff like that she’s always studying and that kinda stuff and miles/hobie finds out when one of his friends confronts him ab it (you can write this however u like!!!!) and he talks w reader and stuff just a bunch of htc!! 🖤 thank you sooooo much

OH DAMN, sure thing anon !! i am just like y/n fr it's just that i don't have bitches 😭😭😭 but i hope u like this rahhh !!!

(reblogs are greatly appreciated, it helps get my content out there! if you guys like what you see, please reblog it too <:D)

they're more than worthy of me. – miles 42 x reader

nobody ever has a perfect life, let alone a perfect love life, but when you were with miles, everything felt just right. he loved you with a love that wasn't overbearing or possessive, he gave you your space when you needed it and supported you from the sidelines in every endeavor you dared to try. you didn't stand out much though, really, you blended in quite well into the background. you were used to not being recognized or acknowledged immediately, and you were fine with it—though you were confused why recently, a few of your classmates were acting a little mean to you.

you never harbored any ill will towards these people—as far as you were concerned, you doubt that more than half of these kids would even remember your name. every time you approached a classmate of yours for a question, they'd immediately walk away the minute you walked over to them, others would ask you in sarcastic voices if you couldn't even do something so simple with a smile that tried to get you thinking they meant no harm when in reality, they wanted you away from them. you couldn't even pretend and think that they were just busy or being realistic—that you should be able to do something as simple as the question to an activity that you were stumped on, but you couldn't—this was because a lot of those classmates of yours adored miles.

they liked miles and having his attention on them, angry if anyone else were to get his attention away from them. before you entered the picture, they were all over him—devoted and loved him like a friend, some had loved him in more than just a friendly way, but none of his friends and admirers in your class took it very kindly when they noticed you and miles getting along a bit too well back then; when you two became a thing, everything just got worse. miles still hangs out with some of these people, though he doesn't consider them his friends—tonight, he'd be attending a party of theirs with ganke, with you opting to stay behind and catch up on school works.

late at night, as you were finishing up your studying session, you got a text from miles, asking you to come down and meet him by your front door. you got up from your chair and walked down to your front door, and there he was, battered and bruised in the face—looking into your eyes with hurting in them. you asked him in worried stammers about what happened to him, who did this to him, if he was even okay. you checked his face all over, and when you saw the backs of his hands, they were reddened and scarred, you couldn't tell if the blood was his or someone else's, because you knew this was no accident that happened to him—he got into a fight, a serious one.

"miles, what happened?" you asked him in a shuddering voice, with miles bringing his red, bloody knuckled hands to your shoulders and wrapped you in his arms. he didn't answer you quite yet as he buried his face in the crook of your neck, holding you tightly as his initial response. "how could they not accept that i love you?" he murmured as you gently placed your hands on his back, reciprocating his hug despite your confusion. "i... miles, what?" "ganke told me he heard a bunch of the guys at the party talking shit about you behind my back. i... i confronted them, asked them why they said what they said, but the last thing they wanted to do was cooperate and be honest. so i... i did some things i wasn't proud of. i'm sorry, i'm just so sick of people hurting you all for my sake–you deserve better, mi cielo..." he whispered as you pulled away from him, watching the tears form in his eyes as he frowned up at you amidst the cuts and bruises on his face.

you brought him into your house and sat him down on the couch, hurriedly getting him a first aid kit to treat his wounds. you wrapped his knuckles up in gauze, with him mindlessly following your hands with his gaze–him taking in all the gentle and softness of your touch. "i'm sorry, again, mi vida. i shouldn't... i should've handled it better." miles apologized to you again as you were tying up the gauze on his hand. "love..." you called out to him, placing your hand on top of his with concern and love filling your gaze. "i'm just glad you're alive and well. i wish you didn't have to get hurt or hurt anyone, but... i'm glad you love me enough to defend me like you did even though i wasn't there." you said in a quiet voice, smiling up at him with tears in your own eyes, matching the tears in his as he looked back at you and nodded, his lower lip quivering.

"i'd do it all again, and more, for you–mi cielo. i swear, you... you won't ever shed another tear... because of another person being an asshole to you–i can't not love you, cielo, i can't..." miles murmured with a cracking voice as he got more vulnerable. you wrapped your arms around his shoulders and held him close as he sobbed, muttering to you how he'd love you forever, that much would never change–no matter if the multiverse demanded you two cannot be, he'd make a world for just the two of you, even if everyone else would disagree.

tags !! @k4tsu3 @luvstarrstruck @toneystank-3000 @ii01vq @maxoloqy @popeheywardssecretgf @solecitoszn @onginlove @euphovlq @meowmoraless

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leclerced · 4 months

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Guys’ reaction after making their girlfriend squirt for the first time?😩

About whichever ones you want I just need to read sth about squirting lol

(also not my autocorrect trying to make me write squirrel)

not squirrel 😭 hope u enjoy this ola babes <3

i feel like daniel would learn how to do it on one woman and then try and do it on every woman he has sex with after that hoping it’ll happen. it’s like the first time every time w him esp if its the first time w a new girl. he gets so turned on and cocky ab being able to make his gf squirt.

max does it by accident and is surprised by it, like he knows it can happen but he wasn’t trying or anything when it happens, she’s never done it before and is embarrassed bc max is just staring at her in shock before he’s like, “holy shit i almost came in my pants just now oh my for thats so embarrassing.” she loses all embarrassment over it when she knows max thinks its so hot he nearly came from it, then she has to prove to him that him cumming in his pants is just as hot by making him do just that.

oscar gets so excited and tries to do it again every time they fuck, but it’s hit or miss on if he can do it or not. he’d research it for sure, buying sex books and ones ab the female body, ensuring they’re all written by women because fuck all does a man know about a woman’s body?? he’d also ask girlfriend what it feels like when it happens bc he wants to know what he’s doing exactly that makes it happen. gets a journal and when she squirts, he is jotting notes in it once she falls asleep ab all the circumstances around it like if he teased her, denied her, overstimulated her etc. every detail of what he was doing when she squirted, where his hands and mouth were if he was fucking her, or what he was doing with his fingers or tongue while eating her out. my lil nerd has to get to the bottom of this mystery and figure out how he can make it happen every time.

charles is sooo pussy drunk when it happens he does cum in his pants. or just like, he’s going down on her and half fucking the mattress bc he’s so hard and she’s already came a few times and he wants to fuck her, sure, but he’s just not ready to take his mouth off her pretty pussy. and then she squirts, and she’s squirming underneath him so much he has to tighten his grip on her hips and hold her down. she’s moaning his name and pulling his hair and he cums from all of it, moaning against her pussy as she rocks her hips against his face and he’s soaked; her cum coating his chin and neck, dripping down his chest and mixing w his cum when he shoots his load in between the stomach and mattress. its so messy and gross if he stops to think about it, but charles wouldn’t stop bc he needs to make her cum like that again if its the last thing he does.

#ask #lifeboredme #op81 #mv1 #dr3 #cl16 #save

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tkaulitzlvr · 8 months

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hii! this request is based off of ur last one but can u pls do one where reader and tom are at a club or whatever and yn is the one getting rlly drunk and tom has to look after her 😭

love ur stuff btw baby, ur an awesome writer

TAKE CARE OF YOU - T. KAULITZ

synopsis: after you get a little more drunk than expected, it’s up to tom to take care of you - but you aren’t making it easy for him.

content: fluff

a/n: thankyou so much, i hope you like it!!

“baby, don’t you think you’ve had enough of that?” tom asks, reaching over and attempting to take the drink out of my hands. i quickly move away, shaking my head and putting the straw to my lips, the taste burning my throat as i swallow the liquid, the feeling only fuelling my excitement, a low buzz swelling my insides as all i want to do is smile.

the music pulses through my eardrums, lights flashing around the club as people messily dance to the beat whilst tom and i watch from a sofa tucked away in the corner, his arm loosely wrapped around my shoulder, his thumb stroking the bare skin, the spaghetti straps of my small black dress providing next to no coverage. our friends were somewhere within the crowd, tom not feeling like joining in, which meant that, much to my annoyance, i was stuck with him. he refused to leave my side the whole night, his protectiveness only increasing once i started to get a little tipsy.

i was now far beyond the point of being just a little bit hazy - i couldn’t even count how many drinks i’d had anymore, the alcohol pumping through my system the only thing on my mind, not considering tom’s growing worry as i become even more wasted.

“pleaseeee can we go dance?” i beg, looking upwards at him and trying my best to convince him, planting a small kiss on his neck as he sighs, looking downwards at me, shaking his head slowly.

“i don’t think that’s a good idea, you’ve had way too much to drink schatz. i’m only trying to look out for you.” he replies gently, placing a small kiss on my forehead and tightening his hold on me. my shaky hand reaches for the tray of shots in the middle of the table, grabbing whichever one was closest to me, not caring what was in it - i just wanted it in my system.

“love…” tom starts, trying to stop me from taking it, leaning forward and placing both his hands on my shoulders.

i move away from his touch, downing the liquid and feeling it run down my throat before he can stop me, shivering slightly at it’s bitter taste. “stop treating me…like a fucking kid tom. let me have a drink and just, loosen up a little for fucks sake.” i slur, my words harsh as i roll my eyes and turn to him, his face slightly hurt, lips parted.

“i’m just trying to take care of you liebe, stop fighting with me.” he replies calmly, attempting to pull me back into his embrace, leaning backwards into the sofa.

“i’m going to dance.” i mumble, standing up as my body sways slightly, showing how wasted i really am. not giving tom any time to try stop me, i quickly walk towards the dance floor, though i hear him calling my name, the music soon drowning out his voice once i near the crowd of drunken bodies, beginning to sway my hips to the music. a grin takes over my expression, my arms swaying freely in the air, the alcohol controlling my every move. my head throbs, my body becoming sweaty, yet i tune it out, focusing only on the music, until i feel two strong arms wrap their way around my waist, their hold slightly foreign.

i turn around, expecting to see tom, but the deep blue eyes that are staring into mine take me aback, my hands roughly trying to pull his grip off of my waist with little success, the alcohol taking away the small strength that i had.

“get the fuck off of me! are you crazy?” i say, trying to sound as sober as i can, but my words are almost incoherent, the guy chuckling at my struggles.

“don’t be like that. what’s a pretty girl like you doing here alone, hm?” he asks, his hold on me only tightening as i begin to feel like a complete idiot for not listening to tom. if i had just stayed with him and appreciated his efforts to keep me safe, then i wouldn’t be in this situation.

“i have a boyfriend fuck off-” i begin, but my voice is soon cut off by the guy being roughly pulled away from me, all too familiar black braids soon coming into my view.

“you ever touch my girlfriend again and i swear to fucking god i will kill you.” tom threatens, holding the guy’s shirt until he scoffs, letting him go and watching him walk away.

tom’s attention soon turns to me, pulling me closer to him, holding my shoulders whilst he frantically checks my body, looking for any signs that the guy had hurt me. his eyes are glassy, lips parted as ragged breaths escape from them, his hold on me strong, yet he makes sure to not hurt me, attempting to study my expression. all that is clear to see is that i am wasted, my eyes empty, not even completely processing what has just happened, my mind only longing to carry on dancing.

“are you okay baby? did he hurt you?” he asks, sighing in relief when i shake my head, quickly pulling my body into his, wrapping his arms tightly around my waist and refusing to let go.

“i’m fine tom, i promise.” i say, genuinely telling the truth.

“we’re leaving now. and don’t try fight me on it, okay?” he asserts, taking my hand in his and leading me out of the bar, my walking all over the place as the alcohol is still strong in my system.

despite what had just happened, i long to be back in there, tugging tom’s arm slightly, causing him to stop and turn around, waiting for me to speak.

“can we stay? just a little longer, please tom?” i plead, pulling him towards me slightly before he reaches the doors. his eyebrows furrow, confused at my question as if i had asked something completely crazy, because to him, i had.

“really? you want to stay, even after all that? you really are absolutely shitfaced.” he replied, lacing his fingers in mine once again. “we’re going home, it’s not safe for you to be here, not when you’re this drunk.”

“you’re so boring tom.” i mumble, having no choice but to leave with him, my body too weak to put up a fight, knowing that he would win and be able to carry me out of the club, which was an option too embarrassing for me to consider, even in this state.

“if wanting to keep my girlfriend safe makes me boring then fine, whatever baby.” tom sighs, opening the doors as the cold immediately hits me, the night bringing on a chilling breeze as the dress i am wearing gives me practically no warmth. i let go of tom’s hand, trying to warm myself up by wrapping my arms around my frame. tom picks up on this, taking off his oversized black jacket and slowly placing it on me, threading my arms through the material and holding my hand once again.

“better?” he asks.

i nod my head, not bothering to think of a quick remark, the throbbing in my head only increasing as the high i was on begins to wear off, leaving a nauseous feeling to spread in the bit of my stomach.

he guides me to his car, opening the door for me and gently placing me in the seat, reaching for the seatbelt and stretching it around my tired frame.

“you okay?” he asks, his hand resting on the end of my seat to hold himself up as his upper body hovers over me from putting my seatbelt on, his brown eyes looking into mine. i nod my head, and he smiles, pecking my lips slowly before bending down to climb out of the car, walking over to the drivers side and hopping in. his hand rests on my thigh, his thumb comfortingly grazing over the soft skin, his other on the wheel as he pulls out, driving home through the empty streets, the early hours of the morning dawning over us.

my eyes falling shut, on the brink of falling asleep, i feel a strong grip lift me from the car, tom using his hands to wrap my legs around his waist as he carries me inside. he slips my heels off whilst still holding me, my head resting on his shoulder. he takes his own shoes off, placing his keys on the table and walking us upstairs.

“tom?” i say, my words muffled into his t-shirt, his jacket still draped over me.

“hm?” he says, moving one of his hands to rub my back.

“i don’t feel too good.” i admit, feeling the urge to throw up as he gets the hint, carrying me into the bathroom and switching the light on. he quickly sets me down as i hunch over the toilet, finally releasing the alcohol from my system. he holds my hair in his hand in a makeshift ponytail, using the other hand to comfortingly rub my back.

“you’re okay, i’m here.” he whispers, bent down beside me as i practically throw my guts up, regret quickly taking over as i wish that i hadn’t drank as much as i did.

i lift my head upwards, feeling completely sober now, tom looking at me sympathetically. he opens his arms for me as i fall into them, wrapping my arms around his torso.

“i’m sorry.” i mumble into him.

“why are you sorry baby?” he asks, running his hands through my hair, brushing out the knots the best he can.

“you’ve had to take care of me the whole night and now i’ve just thrown up and it’s all my fault!” i complain, my eyes welling up as i find myself becoming strangely emotional.

“don’t be sorry my love, that’s what i’m here for.” he begins, planting a soft kiss on my forehead. “now let’s get you ready for bed, yeah? you must be exhausted.”

i nod my head as he pulls me upwards, walking me into our bedroom. i fall into bed, completely drained, not caring that my makeup is still on, or that i’m still in my dress. tom however, does, sitting on the edge of the bed and gently lifting me upwards.

“not yet, come on let’s get this off.” he says, pointing to my dress.

“you do it.” i mutter, too tired to even form complete sentence.

he nods, turning me around so that my back is facing him. his hand reaches for the zipper, pulling it downwards slowly, moving the straps off of my shoulders and getting up, grabbing one of his t-shirts and some fresh underwear for me. he pulls the dress off me and folds it neatly, putting it to the side.

“lift up.” he says, and i obey, allowing him to put his t-shirt on me. the material hangs from my frame, reaching my knees. he passes me my panties, and i put them on lethargically, my body almost passing out in exhaustion. tom gets up, saying nothing and walking to the bathroom, coming back with some makeup wipes.

“you go to sleep baby, i’ll do the rest.” he softly says as i fall backwards into the sheets, feeling him gently wipe the makeup from my face, making sure that he gets everything off, taking extra care to not apply too much pressure and hurt me. he puts the used makeup wipes in the trash, my body on the verge of falling asleep. he takes his clothes off, climbing into bed in his boxers and pulling me closer to him.

“thank you for taking care of me. i love you.” i whisper, my eyes still closed.

“i’ll always be here to look after you. even when you don’t want me to be.” he chuckles, kissing my forehead.

i smile, snuggling closer to him as he wraps his arms around my waist.

“goodnight schatz. i love you.” he says, his voice the last thing i hear before i fall asleep.

requests are open! keep sending them in!!

#tom kaulitz #tom kaulitz x reader #tom kaulitz fluff #tom kaulitz smut #tom kaulitz angst #kaulitz #kaulitz twins #tokiohotel #tomkaulitz #bill kaulitz

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