#cw: noncon

[badaziraphaletakes]

The first time he said "I forgive you", Crowley had just called him stupid. For wanting to try to get heaven to stop Armageddon. (And let's not forget that Crowley's alternate suggestion, running away to Alpha Centauri, would result in them both dying.)

The second time he said it, Crowley had called him an idiot, kissed him without consent (as far as we know - unless they worked out some kind of plan beforehand), and made the hardest decision Aziraphale's ever made a million times harder (again, as far as we know).

"Didn't do anything to him that would need to be forgiven" my ass.

#good omens #goodomens #aziraphale #good omens 2 #badaziraphaletakes #goodomens2 #ineffable husbands #aziracrow #ineffablehusbands #ineffable divorce #cw: noncon #cw: non consensual

[yanmaresu]

Yandere Miguel O'Hara x fem! self insert

MDNI // cw: implied future non-con, tying up, kidnapping, yandere, breeding kink.

Took me way more time than I had planned x'd but here's the guy! I also tried something new and made different versions of the drawing with the self-insert having different skin tones and hair. You can find them under the cut.

#yandere #yandere miguel #yandere miguel x reader #yandere miguel o'hara #yandere x reader #yandere spiderverse #yandere spiderman #yandere atsv #cw: yandere #cw: noncon #tw: noncon #Perdón si el dialogo en español no está como picosito pero no sé como escribir un sexy latin lover sin sentir cringe #es decir ya sé que todo lo que dibujo es cringe #pero es diferente con esos dialogos ustedes ya saben como

[blughxreader]

Soft yandere Miguel O’Hara

cw: noncon, breeding, kidnapping, m masturbation, biting, SPOILERS. Headcanons and drabble. 1.4k words.

Mean dom Miguel is so hot, but I find that soft yan Miguel has so much overlap with canon.

This man still does all the sick and deplorable things a villain does, but in a way that's strangely tender.

I mean, you simultaneously have to be a sweet man and a stone-cold motherfucker to step in the shoes of your dead counterpart and con his family into thinking everything is fine. Like, he (eventually) fucked a dead man's wife, adopted his child, and seamlessly integrated into his shoes.

While certainly calloused, it also reveals a profound desperation for love and a willingness to do anything for it.

Enter you: a Spider from a random dimension that got caught up in an anomaly's destruction. Maybe your world was destroyed or it's emotionally difficult for you to return, so you end up spending a lot of time at HQ.

Miguel doesn't notice you for a while. There's hundreds of Spiders milling about the base, so it's only until you befriend Peter B and his baby that you get acquainted.

You draw him in without trying, no matter the walls that Miguel puts up. He needs to focus—everyone's very existence is at stake, dammit,—but by month five, you're the only thing he can think about.

His advances start off slow, bogged down by his own exasperation at himself. You're ordered to give in-person de-briefs in Miguel's office and get invited to lunch with him and Peter B, giving you the impression of an upcoming promotion. Miguel is as poised as ever, not letting a single stray emotion color his expression, and talks to you in an aloof, polite manner.

However uninterested he might seem, his insides tighten and flutter at your growing friendship. Every time you smile or secretly share a bemused look, he sinks deeper and deeper in his desire to have you.

Proximity-wise, Miguel vacillates between sitting next to you, close enough for your elbows to brush, and standing 30 feet away on his podium for the next week.

His involuntary, physical reactions startle him, and it becomes another contention he internally wars about. The second he thinks it's harmless to brush against you, it divulges into grabbing—cupping—pinning—fucking—ruining.

God, he fucking loathes the powerless feeling you inflict on him, but he doesn't have the strength to put an end to your friendship. He furiously jerks off after every meeting, biting into his hand to punish himself as he comes to the thought of you swollen with his child.

He thinks of all the deplorable ways to make you pay for causing these feelings, but he ultimately knows the blame lies within him. You see him as a boss and friend, nothing more. You would never intentionally drag him down to this state, so he bottles up all these feelings for your protection.

It takes a particularly bad mission for his control to break.

Whatever reservations he had about locking you in his bedroom evaporate when he sees you covered in blood and rubble. Protecting you from himself was one thing, but the thousands of universes?

You didn't realize what happened until you woke up in an unfamiliar bedroom, weary from pain medication.

He takes your fear, anger, and tears in stride.

While he can't shake his bitchy personality, his annoyance always fizzles out to mumbles and sighs. For months, he takes your verbal abuse and outbursts with resigned acceptance. Miguel didn't always like what he had to do, but he would commit any atrocity if it meant keeping you at his side.

He moves some of his work at home to spend more time with you, just content to occupy the same room while you adjusted to your new situation.

Your shared apartment is quiet most days, save for sporadic outbursts of rage from you, and Miguel daydreams about having a few little kids running around to fill the void.

He stares at you most evenings, watching you curled up on the couch pointedly ignoring him. Miguel thinks you wouldn't be so belligerent if you needed him for something, if you craved his presence and help in some way.

Miguel's mind always drifts back to his favorite fantasies on nights like these: you nine months pregnant and too big for anything other than his shirts. His eyes drift down to your stomach, to the place where you could make his dreams come true.

Patience is something Miguel prides himself on, which is why he puts up with the loneliness for nearly a year after bringing you home. You were given ample time to warm up to him and he's been nothing but kind. Every broken plate and spoiled food, every scratch across his face, every insult—he let you have your way in hopes that you'll eventually recognize him as your lover.

But no. You complained and struggled every step of the way.

Miguel could never hurt you, but he realized that more permanent and assertive measures had to be taken to make you see that you need and love him as much as he does you.

---

When he finally takes you, there's hardly any space between your bodies. There are months of touch starvation to make up for and Miguel is compensating all at once.

His entire 6'9" stature pins you to his bed, locking you between arms as large as your thighs. Miguel is the only thing you see or feel, as his hands caress every dip and curve of your body and his cock grinds against your slit.

With your legs helplessly hiked up around his waist and one of his hands pinning your wrists above your head, he makes love to you with a slow burning intensity.

Your fear and disgust are palpable, but between his sweet voice in your ear and his fingers somehow knowing the rhythm and speed to play with your clit, you're more wet than you've ever been.

"Shh, shh, mi cornazón. I have you." Miguel kisses your jaw, his cock rocking in and out of your aching heat with an agonizingly slow pace. "Just breathe steadily and let me take care of you."

He's too big inside of you, and your grunts of pain make him linger in place to help you adjust. When his stride picks up and the wet sounds of sex fill the bedroom, disgust roils in your stomach. Yet fuck, fuck, fuck, your body temperature rises with each stroke.

Miguel kisses you deeply, using his free hand to hold your head in place. He says, "It's time. I've been so patient. Be brave for me and take our baby."

He swallows your horrified pleading with another scorching kiss.

Your pussy clenches around his dick and your breath catches in your throat. Miguel hugs you tighter, his nose pressed into your hair as he angles himself just right. When the first waves of your orgasm make your head dip back, the sharp edge of fangs scratch your neck.

You barely register his mantra of, "Te amo," when his jaw clamps down on your shoulder. Blood spurts from between his teeth, and you cry out in confused pain as your orgasm shakes your body.

Miguel moans into your flesh seconds later, pumping his cum deep inside you. His thrusting is uncoordinated and rough, too blinded by pleasure to notice how powerful his pounding is. The mattress springs whine beneath you two, and you can only cry from the overwhelming treatment.

He milks every last drop of cum into your cunt before he begins to slow. Both of you gasp for breath, your chests heaving against one another's as sweat cools on your hot skin.

He keeps you plugged up for a while longer to give the conception time. His bloodied lips drag across the wound on your shoulder, peppering you with kisses as he trails red along your neck.

A sob shutters in your chest as Miguel runs a palm along your stomach.

"You'll understand soon. I promise. This will be the best thing that's ever happened to us."

#yandere miguel o'hara #dark miguel o hara #yandere miguel x reader #miguel o'hara smut #yandere miguel o'hara x reader #yandere spiderverse #cw: noncon #cw: breeding #afab

[auspicioustidings]

Savage

Summary: Request for some Scottish warrior Soap taking an English maiden as a prize.

Words: 3.7k

CWs: Violent non-con (I am so serious, do not ready this if it's not your thing), hardcore smut

–

Authors Note: This is very much a rape fantasy. Traditionally rape fantasies have historical grounding in minorities who felt ashamed of their own desires so had to fantasise a situation in which they were blameless for engaging in a stigmatised action because it was forced. It’s sort of where a lot of the noncon trope in bodice rippers comes from because women in unhappy marriages need a fantasy in which they can get rid of the shame for wanting passionate or rough sex because they imagine they fought against it. A lot more people have rape fantasies than people generally realise and truly a miniscule barely there number of them would ever think it was ok to actually assault someone. All that to say, this is not me condoning anything in real life. If you find fantasies like this don’t do it for you, then do not read it, but don’t then shame people who do. There is psychology behind why people fantasise about these things, it’s pretty normal and you don’t need to be worried that it is some moral failing. Mind your business.

It was a miraculously good match for you, a high ranking soldier of the King’s army. You were technically of noble blood, but just barely. You lived simply, not in a large house but in a small village where you held no sway over anyone else and were treated as common. But the village was close to the border between England and Scotland and every day it became more tense as whispers of raids from villages to the West skittered between houses like rats.

You didn’t know how your uncle had made arrangements for this beneficial marriage for you, but it would get you moving South in a few days time to marry and then you would finally be able to relax with this war much further away from you. You had heard horror stories of what happened to young maidens when savages came pillaging. They said that they didn’t wear anything under those kilts, they said it was to make it easy to bury their cocks in any hot hole they could find. They said they didn’t have any tame qualities, not like the English. Scottish men were feral, the comparison to dogs not holding water because at least dogs could be trained. 

When you retreated to bed you got on your knees to say your prayers. As always you had to beg forgiveness for the licentious thoughts that sent thrills straight to your cunt whenever you thought about the images all those rumours put in your head.

–

The noise of chaos woke you in a panic, heart hammering against your ribcage as the smell of smoke drifted on the air and war cries sounded. You recognised your own kinfolk of course, the battalion of soldiers stationed here to keep eyes on the border. But it was the cries of those animals from the country to the North that sent you scrambling out of bed in only your chemise, knowing you had to run and hide before they could see you.

You slipped out of the bedroom, a frightened little rabbit looking for a burrow to hop into. The smell of smoke was stronger in the main room and you could see the orange glow of flames through the window. Going outside would be a risk, but hiding in here may get you burned to a crisp should this building be lit up. You did not have time to make the decision as the door burst off of its hinges, a muscular man in a blood spattered kilt with a warrior's mohawk and wild eyes panting like a dog as he caught sight of you.

You were frozen, unable to even breathe. And then after a beat his mouth stretched into a horrid manic grin as he bounded towards you. That finally shifted you from freeze to flight as you scrambled back through to the bedroom, trying to get to the small window. You threw the top half of your body through the gap but his rough hands grabbed your naked ankles and yanked you back, hard. You felt the chemise catch on the window frame, the fabric bunching up to completely expose you to him before he let go of your ankles letting you crash to the ground. 

Your knees throbbed from the hard floor and by the time you were trying to crawl away he had his hand in your hair, brutally pulling your head up and craning it to look at him leaning over and getting into your face.

“Hear I have a wee noble bitch on my hands.”

Of course he would know. There were families here who would tell them anything to save themselves and pointing them in the direction of a noble maiden, one who was betrothed to an English soldier at that, would certainly be information that could spare them. The shouts outside sounded more heavily weighted towards those in his own gruff and growling accent now. The English soldiers were losing.

“I-I don’t know what you are talking about ser” you cried gently, not knowing how else to save yourself. 

“Bonnie words” he growled, pulling so sharply at your hair that you thought your scalp might be bleeding and using his other hand to grope meanly at one of your breasts through the rough fabric of your nightwear.

You cried out, feeling the tears immediately spill over and stream down your face. He was so strong, you could barely budge against his hold, and he reeked of blood and fire and sweat and hot arousal. You squeezed your eyes shut and he only growled at you.

“Ye’ll keep those eyes open, yer going tae watch yer wee English cunt take me like a whore or I’ll take yer tight arse instead.”

You choked on a sob and opened your eyes, seeing that his were full of sick glee and heat. The hand groping at your tits moved under the chemise to cup roughly at your sex and he pulled you to your feet by that hand. You screamed at how it felt as he abused you with his hand, grinding the heel against you. You felt a hot flood of bitter shame as he swiped a finger violently through your folds. What he found there made him pause for a moment, his face lighting up in unrestrained glee.

“Fucking English slut. Y’er dripping.”

You had heard women who said it would be better to be wet if they were to be taken against their will. You did not agree. Him knowing that your traitorous body found his rough abuse of it arousing was so humiliating you felt you would rather die. He was so oppressive in his demeanour, so big and aggressive above you that you imagined he may break your bed with what he was about to do to you. How foolish of you to think he would have that level of mercy.

“Going tae show all those bastards how their women take Scottish cock” he laughed, spearing two fingers inside you to their full length with no softness at all and pulling you by them.

You could not breathe. You had never had anything inside you and those two fat fingers felt like they were stretching you so much you would tear. He walked backwards so he could keep them firmly inside you and you stumbled pathetically after him, needing to keep as close to him as possible to stop the painful press against your walls that came from him pulling if you did not move. 

The shame was overwhelming as you emerged, full of his fingers and stumbling after him with tears streaming down your face, to find that your country's soldiers had been defeated with the survivors on their knees, hands bound. You were being paraded in front of them you realised, they had been put right here in the town square so they could bear witness, the Scottish soldiers standing behind them feral and full of lust as they took in their leader pulling you in front of them by the cunt. 

When he ripped his fingers out of you, your knees buckled and a high whine left you. You had went from feeling too full to feeling far, far too empty. You could barely hear anything but the blood rushing through you as your heart hammered. That and him as he taunted the soldiers on their knees. 

“Our women would ne’er let ye touch them, they’d die first. Yer clean wee English princess on the ither hand?” he said, planting a booted foot to your chest and pushing until he had you pinned on your back underfoot, “she’s gagging fir it. Foaming at the gusset tae take strong Scottish cock, put a real warrior in her belly.”

His own men cheered at that and you watched on with horror as he cocked his head at one of them and he began to approach you. 

“Naw a monster though am I my wee slut? Ye’d be wet enough fir one of their small English cocks nae doubt, but fir mine? Going tae need something to help me sink in good and deep.”

The other soldier went to his knees between your legs and you watched as he pulled his throbbing cock from under his kilt, jerking it violently. You tried to move away, his cock so close you could feel the heat of it between your legs, but the boot on your chest held you still. When you tried to close your legs the man touching himself used his other hand to wrench one of your knees until it was touching the ground, using his own knees between your thighs to help him keep your glistening cunt fully on display.

When the head of his cock stroked through your folks, slicking you with his pre-cum and bumping at your clit, you were so overwhelmed that you didn’t quite manage to bite back your moan. They laughed meanly at you as the man found his release, spurting hot cum all over your pussy, smacking his cock against your stomach when he was done to shake off the last drops.

It was filthy, you felt sticky and like you were on fire. The next soldier took his place and spat right on your already disgusting cunt as he began to stroke himself. By the time he had painted you with his seed and the third was started, the man above pressed his foot harder to get your attention and all you could do was stare up into his taunting eyes, trying to focus on him so you could not think of what was going on between your legs. You cried up at him, trying to find any level of sympathy in him.

“Keep crying and I’ll gie ye something tae cry about princess.”

Oh you hated him calling you that when you were pinned down in the dirt, defeated soldiers of your country watching as their enemies smeared their cum all over your exposed body. Watching as they made a sloppy mess out of you in preparation for their leader to shove his cock deep inside and pump you full of his savage children.

You did not know how long you stared up at him, not able to look away as you felt the heat of his men on your body, your own body getting hotter and hotter with each slide of velvety throbbing skin against your own. He had started to talk to you, his eyes not budging. It wasn’t the defeated soldiers he was taunting, it was you, ruined and disgraced under his boot.

“See how good I am tae ye little whore? Letting my men make ye flush wi pleasure. Don’t deny it, think I cannae see yer face whenever ye feel a cock on that wee untouched pussy? Like a fucking bitch in heat. I’ll fuck ye like one. Get ye on yer hands and knees so ye can look yer precious King’s soldiers in the eye when ye fall apart on my cock. When ye’r fucking begging for my cum. Wilnae even have tae dae any work, ye’ll be fucking yourself back on me ye needy slut.”

You shook your head in horror at his claims, the true fear being that he would make them true. Already you felt in a daze, felt empty and desperate. But you felt fear as well as he put his arm under his kilt, rucking the fabric up to grab at his cock. It was huge and you found yourself panicked and squirming as the last of his soldiers grunted and slapped the meat of your thigh to get you to stay still. You were rambling incoherently as the man above stroked slowly at himself, causing that thick weapon between his legs to throb and seem even bigger. 

“It won’t fit, it’s not going to fit, please I’ll die, you’ll split me open. It’s so big no no I can’t, I can’t!”

You didn’t even feel the last of his soldier’s loads splatter onto you, didn’t notice when his hands left your flesh. You would have rapidly purpling skin in the shape of fingerprints all over your thighs from how you had been held still by all of them, but you could not feel the dull pain of it through your fear of what was to come.

“Ye’ll take whit I gie ye and ye’ll fucking thank me princess.”

He removed his foot and it was only then you realised that he had been pressing down hard enough that your breaths had been shallow. The rush of oxygen from being able to fully expand your lungs again made you horribly dizzy, but it also flooded right down to your clit and made your body jerk violently with the sensation. 

He didn’t take his hand from his cock and he bent so he could use the other to grab your ruined hair again, yanking your head up and shoving himself into your mouth. You choked, legs scrambling to get underneath you to give you some stability with which to batter your fists against his thighs, trying to pull away. He laughed meanly at your attempts, moving the hand that was touching himself to join the one tangled in your hair on the back of your head and pulling your head at the same time as he thrust forward, settling himself fully in your throat. 

You were gagging around him, tears really streaming down your face now as you begged him with your eyes to let you breathe. He held you there, his own eyes glittering with satisfaction, until your muscles started to give in and you felt your eyes dropping closed as your brain became cottony. Then all at once he pulled you off and you were gulping in oxygen around your coughing and sputtering, the rush much more intense this time. 

He held your head tilted up at him so he could watch your face as he shoved his boot between your legs and got you over the edge. Oh weren’t you a delicious little thing for him, getting off so hard on how he used you, moaning shakily and wantonly in the dirt beneath him in front of his triumphant soldiers and your defeated ones. 

“Good fucking girl” he growled with a feral grin, letting you ride it out with little aborted thrusts on his boot, unable to control your body. 

You looked gone, eyes glazed and body slack. Couldn’t have that, he needed you screaming for him. He needed your blood fighting between being frozen with terror and boiling with need. And he needed you full of him, needed to be able to feel his own cock through your stomach so fucking clearly that he could jerk it. 

You were thrown forward, top half of your body collapsing pathetically into the dirt right where it was covered in the sweat and cum of his soldiers. He manhandled your hips up, leaving your face crushed into the dirt and your ass up high for him, cunt presented. You felt his hot breath at your ear and it was a sudden shock when you realised he was growling lowly into your ear, his words for you and you only.

“S’going tae hurt, yer going tae scream yerself hoarse for me and then I’ll get ye tae milk me when I rip pleasure out of all that pain. Will treat ye right after little princess, like one of my good Scottish lassies, but right now ye’r my fucking English whore.”

The confusing mix of sentiments cleared some of the fuzziness from your mind but you had no time to dwell. He was right, it did hurt and you did scream yourself hoarse. He had lined himself up and plunged into you, cock coated and slick from the cum of his soldiers but no less huge inside your tight virgin pussy. He had split you in two, you were sure of it. His cock must have broken through you, was sitting in your ribcage and punching all the air from your lungs.

You blacked out for a moment, coming right back to when he pulled out to fuck brutally back into you again, slapping your ass so hard that you felt the sting all the way up to your fingertips and making you choke on the sob that fought through the screaming. He ripped at your hair, making you look at the defeated soldiers on their knees. Making you watch their own cocks swell at your treatment. Your utter ruination was making them hard. Your head being wrenched back meant you had to go to your hands as he pounded you, and you saw how they looked as one of your breasts was fucked right out of the chemise, bouncing lewdly for them to see with every hard thrust.

The humiliation had you digging into the dirt like you had claws, feeling the bite of the earth pushing under your nails. It sparked something in your brain, almost like you could see them sharpen. Like you could feel your shoulder blades become more pronounced, become something sinewy and sleek and animal. He was fucking you like a predator and you were drooling and howling and panting like his prey, back bowed as he pulled your hair harder and had to staring at the sky babbling prayers into the night air. 

“S’too much, can’t, I can’t. Full, too full.”

“Ye fucking can. Yer tight fucking cunts trying tae strangle me, wants my cum so bad naw? Perfect English pussy, so slutty and needy for a real cock” he growled, hand letting go of your hair and smacking your ass right over where he had before, causing you to howl at the pain. 

The pain and something else, something that had no place here and yet had been lingering from the moment he had caught you. Something that had been getting closer and brighter and more insistent with every abuse you were subject to. Something that he invited in when your arms collapsed beneath you without him holding your heads weight anymore and he ground your face into the ground before bringing his hand to your clit and pinching. 

Your scream was raw and hoarse, throat well past being able to produce a clear sound. The orgasm was blinding and every bone felt like it had liquified. You saw white and then you saw hardly anything, only vague shapes and colours. The only thing now was how his cock filled you. The shame was gone, replaced with the truth that you loved this. You loved how he used you like this, how he violated you in front of these soldiers just because he could.

“That’s it princess, fucking take it” he hissed, stopping his thrusts and letting you do all the work.

You didn’t even realise now how you wildly fucked yourself back on his cock trying to chase the pain of overstimulation, addicted to the way it made you feel some sick hazy pleasure. You were drooling onto the dirt, tasting the earth mixed with cum and finding the disgust of it only felt right now. When his hand came to your stomach and pushed to feel himself bulging there you came again, harder, babbling thank yous to him.

He bit out a string of curses above you as your pussy squeezed so hard it was forcing him out, but he was strong as he forced himself balls deep and held there, finding his release as you milked everything out of him and into your womb. The liquid heat of it was the last thing you felt as you passed out, blissed and fucked out of your mind. 

–

John MacTavish allowed himself a moment to lean his body against your back, inhaling the scent of sweat and dirt and cum and fear and lust from your limp body. So good for him, took it perfectly. He hissed when he finally pulled out, resisting the temptation to just keep going beyond what would feel good because fuck, being inside you had been a religious experience. 

He was nothing if not a man of his word though, and he scooped your body gently into his arms to get you onto a horse and ready for him to take over the border where he could give you that princess treatment he had promised. The surviving soldiers they would leave beaten and bloodied but not dead. After all, someone had to tell your betrothed all the details.

-

“Fucking MacTavish” he hissed after excusing the man who had given the report.

He had made him give it in full detail, told him to leave nothing out. 

“Kept her alive by the sounds of it, maybe looking to get a bastard out of her” Garrick mused.

“Knowing him he’ll keep her near the border to taunt us instead of moving her further up North” Price added.

Simon Riley would not be letting his betrothed get away with allowing MacTavish of all people to take the maidenhood that rightfully belonged to him. She needed a proper punishing fuck from an English man to learn better.

“Doesn’t matter where he keeps her. I’m going to take her, and she’s going to learn what happens to sluts who spread their legs for those Scottish bastards”.

#mhairiwrites #fanfic #cod au #john soap mactavish x reader #soap x reader #cw: noncon #rest assured this isn't likely to become the kind of thing I write because it is well out of my wheelhouse #I've got a half chapter of Firewatch written and will finish that off #But I'm looking to do a little more of the Teashop AU after and that is going to stay fluffy and wholesome as hell #darkfic #dark content

[bunnyreaper]

imagine meeting pervy!soap on a train.

(cw: noncon/dubcon, in public)

rammed into the tube at a super busy time against a cute, tall guy who has no right being as attractive as he is. you don't dare even look him in those gorgeous blue eyes as he smirks and makes some joke about how cosy this all is--in that fucking accent.

you're practically pinned between him and the doors, unable to move or escape in any way. he holds the rail far above him, towering over you and encasing you against him. it starts off fine, slightly uncomfortable and a little warm, but everyone is all in the same predicament at least.

when you first feel his hardness pushing against you, you do your best to ignore it--after all, it's not like it's anything other than a bodily reaction. but when you finally meet his eyes again, he knows. he knows you feel it, and he smiles--somewhere between a sheepish grin and wolfish smirk.

you expect him to apologise, to acknowledge the awkwardness and explain it away, but he doesn't. he just lets the sway of train push him further into you, just pins you with those gorgeous eyes as if he's daring you to be the one to say something first.

you hate that it makes you squirm, turns you on more than it should to have some pervs dick rubbing all over you in public, but it does. and he must be like a bloodhound, able to sense it. able to sense your arousal and your discomfort as he takes advantage of the situation, of you.

before you know it you feel him fumbling, unbuckling his belt and unbuttoning his jeans--there isn't much room for him to move, his hand nudging against you with every movement until his cock is freed.

he looks down at you once more with full predator smile, gleaming teeth and something crazy in his eyes, before he flips up the hem of your skirt and nestles his length between your thighs.

"much better, right bonnie?" he sighs as the train rocks him back and forth between the plushness of your legs, against your aching, leaking cunt and soaked panties.

your ability to look at him anymore is completely gone, your ability to say anything completely diminished too. your body flushes with arousal and humiliation in equal measure as his thick, hard cock brushes back and forth. occasional the train will jerk violently, making his cock head push right against your clit.

your moans are swallowed by the sound of tracks as the train grinds to a halt. the stranger pulls you closer, holding you to him as he disguises what is happening between you, to you. others shuffle around you, getting off the carriage only to be replaced by more bodies--salvation is still far away.

and when your freedom finally does arrive in the form of your stop, you're walking away with hot, sticky cum smeared across your thighs and seeping through the cotton of your panties.

the stranger only smiles, offers a mock salute as the doors slip shut and he stands tall and proud, like he didn't just violate you in the middle of a busy train during rush hour.

#john mactavish x reader #soap mactavish x reader #john soap mactavish x reader #johnny soap mactavish x reader #johnny mactavish x reader #soap mactavish #soap x reader #soap cod #soap mw2 #bunny writes #cw: noncon #cw dubcon #not proofread we just yeet this out into the world with no thoughs!!!

[cherubify]

SERVICE CHARGE / LEON KENNEDY

6.5k words, based on this

cw: waitress f!reader, blackmail, stalker, power abuse, noncon, dubcon, (unprotected) p-in-v, fellatio, spanking, implied cunnilingus, dirty talk, corruption kink, breeding, lack of aftercare, mentions of blood (no bloodplay) / minors dni

a/n: big thanks to @xoxostarlet for beta reading! pls check out her work it's vry yummy! n thanks for 50+ follows!! also i hc this as post re4 leon bcs of my og drabble but it can be di/ vendetta leon too it works even bttr ok bye!!

Leon’s not quite sure why he’s so taken with you– a girl waitering at your family’s restaurant, a dingy place in the outskirts of the city. Maybe it’s because he’s a simple guy- sees a pretty, little thing and can’t help but fantasise about you. You’re younger than he’d like, but old enough to warrant his wandering gaze at the way your oil stained apron wraps around your perfect waist, at the knotted ribbon you always messily tie that rests on the swell of your cheeks. You’re practically an angel in his eyes, your halo the form of a sloppily tied hair bun that sits atop your head with unruly strands sticking out.

Maybe it’s because you’re quite a character- armed with rather polite comebacks and one liners that you dish out to ungrateful, difficult customers. Of course, you’re so well loved by the regulars (him included) that you barely have to lift a finger to kick them out yourself. Everyone here in this tiny family restaurant loved you, their perfect waitress with the perfect smile. You’re enthusiastic about your mundane job too, fast on your feet and even faster with your words when running through demanding orders.

Maybe it’s because you’re still so young that you have this amount of energy. Or maybe it’s because of the lack of hired hands that you had to work with ten times the amount of energy you should normally exert. He remembers caring more about details and the nitty gritty things when he was your age. But he digresses.

Whatever it is, he thinks you’re quite the charmer. You have him wrapped around your little finger, and he’d like to make it known to you. But the trouble lies in your denseness. You’re beyond saving with how each of his flirtatious comments would fly over your head, soar, even. With how clueless you were, it was a safe bet to assume you were a dumb little girl who had yet to have her cherry popped. Just a silly virgin playing the pretence of an adult.

Oh right, that’s another reason why he’s so taken by you. The idea of ruining you was exhilarating– worth the trouble of driving for half an hour after work to this hole in the wall just to see you. He finds himself wondering how you’d look bent over the tiny bathroom sink in the back of the shop, jeans pooling at your ankles as he eats your cute butt. Oh, how he’d love to unravel you with only a thin door separating you and your customers and parents.

He has to thank his superiors for meeting you. If it weren’t for that random party they held that night, he probably would never have touched this decrepit store. (For him, an hour away from home meant one less hour to kiss his bed.) That night you had introduced yourself as their waitress and patiently guided them through the menu with recommendations.

The waitress before him with quite the looker, pretty despite the mess on her apron and the sweat that clung to the nape of her neck. How old were you? In your late teens– or maybe your blossoming twenties? He searched your eyes for answers, while you tucked your loose hair behind your ear and waited patiently for his table to decide. He made small talk because that’s something he’s gotten good at with the ladies.

“Quite the establishment you’ve got running here.” He commented as he gestured at the rowdiness with his eyes. You snapped out of your frozen daze to meet his blue eyes. Was this hottie talking to you? You swallowed nervously and wrung your fingers together.

“Sorry,” you laughed breathlessly. “It’s always like this after eight til closing hours. These guys trod in here after work and take it out with booze.”

“I can see that. Your parents own the place, hun?” He asked.

“For twenty years. Going stronger than ever,” you nodded. He smiled and asked for your name, and you willingly gave it with a demure smile.

Your name fits you, perfect for an angel such as yourself, he thought. His coworkers paid you little attention in their drunken state; this was their second round of restaurant hopping. Leon had to remain sober to chauffeur them home, and he was glad that he was sober enough to see and not forget you. You wouldn’t become a blurred image, a forgotten ghost in his memories as a result of intoxication. He was glad he was the only one who would remember this encounter.

On the way out, he had an arm supporting his fallen coworker. You held the door open, not minding the men who leaned lifelessly against his car like mannequins. You seemed amused, casual about the blacked out group that left the store blacked out drunk. Must have seen it a lot, he assumed.

“Do patronise us again, Mr Kennedy. Preferably when it’s not rush hour,” you had chuckled lightly.

And if such a pretty girl like you asked so sweetly, who was he to deny you? So he came as often as he could. You were always busy with attending to other customers, barely having enough time to sacrifice for idle chatter. He needed idle chatter, enough to grow your curiosity in him to be interested.

To get your attention, he would pull out a lighter (an expired one of his, a convincing prop) and click it a few times, cigarette pursed between his lips. And somehow, miraculously over the sea of rowdy customers you always heard it. The clicking over the cacophony in the restaurant. And like clockwork, you would storm over to warn him not to smoke inside.

“Mr Kennedy!” You placed your hands on your hips, frowning. Your brows were scrunched up in a disapproving frown whilst a pout played on your lips.

“It’s Leon,” he said while pocketing the bud and lighter. The grin on his face of hardened features made him look way younger– but you snapped out of your thoughts to fold your arms across your chest.

“Well, Leon,” he shivered at the sound of his name rolling off your tongue. A buttery sound, gentle but firm like your nature. “I told you we don’t allow smoking in our shop. If you want, there’s a quiet alley beside us for it.”

“I know, I know,” he shrugged, and you’d roll your eyes in feigned annoyance before asking for his order.

You placed his menu before him, and without opening it, he recited his usual. And this cycle occurred over and over again like a broken record. Your reactions were the same, albeit less exasperated each time as you got used to his antics. He could tell– he was starting to grow on you.

He would leave generous tips for you too thanks to his expandable wallet. You know, for the service charge. The first few visits you fought to return the money because even though you were poor and desperate, you weren’t going to accept hundreds like it was nothing!

“Mr Ke- Um, Leon. I really can’t accept this,” you shook your head and pushed the stack of bills to his chest.

“Just take it. For the great service.”

“I really can’t, you always leave me no choice.” You frowned but pocketed it anyway. Couldn’t argue with the man who loomed over you even with a counter separating him from you. It made you nervous, and you lacked the heart to push, unlike with other customers.

“Why can’t you?” The blonde asked as you showed him out. Holding the door with your back, you shook your head.

“My parents already think you’re a mafioso with the amount of money you tip. Anymore and I don’t know what they’ll make of you!”

Aw, you were concerned for him? Little ol’ him? He wanted to swipe a thumb over the pout playing on your plush lips and kiss you. Kiss you and lead you to the alleyway beside your family store and take you then and there. How would you react to that, he wondered? Would you be happy?

He was answered instantly when your eyes lit up at something behind him. He turned to see a beat down Toyota in the driveway, and a skinny guy clambered out with a backpack, books in hand. Your face glowed radiantly. Leon wondered what you saw in that awkward boy. You bid Leon goodbye with a stutter and led the boy in, leaving poor Leon to stand on the porch with a disgruntled expression and stinging in his chest. He knew the answer to his earlier question: probably not, because you already had a thing for someone else.

Leon visited again during one of your quieter shifts. During a weekday, on his time off. You sat in the corner of the store with the same boy while doing homework together. When he said something, your face lit up and you laughed toothily. A genuine, earnest and bright smile. Something he never got to witness, receiving only your customer service smiles when he cracked his best jokes for you.

But he couldn’t bring himself to stay mad at you for long. It couldn’t be helped that you were just a doe-eyed girl who didn’t know how to appreciate him. No matter, he could teach you how. Since you were lacking the brain cells to even try. But first, he had to do something about that boy.

It was easier than stealing candy from a baby. Just a few documents and the boy’s home was evicted. He knew the rest, but as you sat across Leon, face buried in your arms as you shared the story, he listened. It was like playing a video game and being spoiled of its ending. Yet he couldn’t bring himself to leave your side as you sniffled about your new ex-boyfriend. Your first one, too. He really helped you dodge a bullet, and you should be thanking him instead of ruining his dinner table with your tears. It left a sour taste in his mouth, but he swallowed it.

“It’ll be okay,” he whispered, even though there was no one else in the store but you two. (And your parents as they watched from the kitchen. His eyes met theirs, and they whispered not so discreetly to one another and he smirked.) He patted your head, and you flinched at the unexpected weight on your head. He mussed your hair with a (fake) smile.

“It’s all gonna work out, I promise.”

You looked at him incredulously, brows furrowed. But you nodded anyway. Good, as you should. You need not question him; just listen and obey.

Months easily passed as he played this game of cat and mouse with you. You, the unsuspecting mouse, who had grown to trust him. Fondly, maybe. He knew what you saw in him- a reliable, honest regular who gave you good advice and helped you at times in need. And it was true, from the goodness of his heart, he was at your every beck and call. And he would be forevermore, even if you rebuked him to the depths of hell, where he rightfully belonged.

So one day, when you looked worse for wear, he asked if something was up. You shared with a tired smile that you’ve been struggling to focus in class lately due to the influx of new customers. A food critic had written a blog post about the store and business boomed. He had to find out who the culprit was and take down their site, but that was for later.

He perked up when you shared that you wanted to put flyers around the neighbourhood to hire more workers. So he offered to help. He had a car, so he could spread the word further and get the job done faster than on foot, he reasoned.

“Thank you so much. You’re the best, Leon!”

Your eyes shone with relief and you threw your arms around him. He caught you, albeit with surprise. You showered him with gratitude while clinging to him as he sat, shellshocked in his seat.

Your first hug. Your curves were soft against his hardened one, and his hands itched to hug you back, to trail down your smaller body and feel you through your work clothes. But Leon steadied himself- he had to win the game in the long run, he couldn’t afford to drop out of the race so soon. The blonde retreated his hands and cleared his throat, and you practically crawled off him. Your hand bumped into the tent between his pants, but thankfully you were too flustered to notice.

“U-Um, I’ll pay you back,” you had said, and you offered him a shy smile. “Not that I have much but I’ll make sure it’s worth your time.”

“How about a kiss?” He prompted with a lopsided smile. Oops, that was an impulsive move. Like chasing the king’s piece while neglecting the imposing queen a few tiles away. Said queen being your parents, who stared at you disapprovingly like you had shed your angelic wings for those of a demon’s.

Your mouth gaped open for a moment but then you shook your head. “You shouldn’t tease me,” you whispered, hands rubbing your arms awkwardly.

His face fell, but he recovered with a boyish grin.

“Just pulling your leg. ‘S all good!”

It wasn’t good. His plans crumbled because he couldn’t keep his mouth shut. Now it was awkward between you two. He found the papers you put up yourself and threw them onto the passenger seat, a messy pile with the share you had given him for his part. He clicked his tongue and shredded the flyers that you painstakingly designed, tossing the pieces out the window as he raced down the highway home in his car. He had to push harder, find other ways to corner you so you wouldn't be able to refuse him. Not again.

Once he reached home, he practically inhaled his shirt, where your scent faintly clung. It was intoxicating, the heat of your body pressed against his and the smell of your sweat mixed with your natural scent. God, you knew how to rile him up without even trying. His cock was painfully hard in his fist as he laid on his bed, stroking himself with his jacket to his face.

When he arrived at the establishment the next day he found you in the back– in the kitchen– where you hung your head in shame while scrubbing dishes. He had caused quite the scene in the store; your father had mustered the courage to warn him (albeit politely) not to lay a hand on his precious daughter. It was quite funny, the man shook like a leaf as he weakly poked a finger into Leon’s chest. It was astonishing and hilarious at how his voice choked whilst dishing out empty threats of what he’d do to Leon if he messed with his girl. All the while your back faced him, unwilling to speak for the next few weeks.

Your parents had taken it on themselves to switch shifts with you whenever he appeared. They practically had his visiting hours memorised too, so it wasn’t like he could waltz in whenever he pleased. They were a pain, an overprotective bunch. For a grown up miss like yourself, it was a wonder why they were still so protective. Probably because they could recognise a wolf in sheep's clothing the moment he walked into their restaurant a second time, eyes prowling until they landed on you.

It mattered not because he would have his way whether they approved or not. He needed no consent form, and not from you either.

…

Your family’s restaurant was on the ground floor of a little building you stayed in. Your residency was located on the second floor, off limits to customers by a locked door. Nothing a little lock picking could solve, thankfully.

Nobody but you was home, he made sure of that when he saw your parents leave in their car. He wasn’t quite sure where you were, but when the sound of running water leaked into the empty hallway, a smile creeped onto his face. His eyes fell on one door that was coloured differently from the rest. There you were. The door creaked ajar, and he peered from the thin gap to see you standing in a glass box. It was humid, water vapour swirled around the bathroom whilst condensation fogged the shower, leaving him little but enough to see.

The shower was turned off, and your hands mindlessly trailed down your body as you scrubbed it with a loofa. You bent over, reaching for your toes, and Leon almost burst in to take you there himself. The growing tightness in his pants hurt, and hell your perfect ass was beckoning him like a sailor to a siren’s call. You hummed softly, blissfully unaware of the man ogling your flushed, naked body.

He swallowed thickly, his Adam's apple bobbing as he shakily took out his phone. The sound of the camera clicking was muffled by the echoing sound of the shower as you sung your silly song. When he had his fill, he took one last longing glance before closing the door behind him.

Women spend forever in showers. Assuming this, he snuck into your room. It was simple, save for the abnormal mountains of plushies that lined your bed and your shelves. Japanese merchandise everywhere– he recognised a smaller white bear next to a much bigger brown one. Rilakkuma, or something. You had quite the collection. Were you fans of those bears? Should he gift you some? Ah, but your parents would toss them into the fire. As his mind somersaulted from one reckless thought to another, he noticed a laundry basket in the corner of your room.

He sauntered over and peered at its contents with sparkling blue eyes. He lifted your sweaters and produced a white one with a pink bow on the front. Your used panties. His heart hammered in his chest as he held it with trembling fingers. The blonde sniffed the damp patch on the gusset and groaned. His dick was already aching to be freed earlier when he saw you in the shower. Now his balls were clenching and screaming for release.

But it would be a waste to stop now. He didn’t know when you would return. So he pocketed the article of clothing and continued rummaging through your possessions.

He even went through your closet to inspect your collection. What were you into? Did you have a specific brand you frequented? Did you prefer lace or silk? Or cotton, like the one snug and warm in his pocket?

He found a matching set of lace underwear sat in the back of a drawer, a translucent design with roses and ribbons. He inspected it curiously– were you waiting to use them? Were you planning on wearing this for your ex-boyfriend? His lips curled into a snarl. It was a good thing he had gotten the kid off your radar. He couldn’t afford to let anyone see you in such scandalous lingerie. Only he should have the privilege of doing so. His mind raced with thoughts as he traced a finger along the strap of your bra.

Then your door creaked and you swung it open. He turned his head to see you, standing at the doorway wrapped in a fluffy towel that hugged your chest and hung above your knees. Your wet hair clung to your face, rivulets cascaded down your flushed skin. When your eyes met his, you froze. Wide eyes met his.

Uh oh.

Before you could scream, Leon lurched forward and clamped a hand over your mouth. He shushed you softly, mirroring your wide eyed expression.

“I know it looks bad,” he whispered. The force against your mouth prevented you from speaking. You began trembling as his lips inched closer, “But I don’t mean any harm.”

“Mmhmm?!” You mumbled against his palm. He withdrew and you gasped, stepping back while hugging your damp, shivering frame. “Leon, you can’t be here. This- This level is off limits to customers!”

“But I’m not just a customer,” he spread his arms. He slowly approached, footsteps thudding against the carpet, “And c’mon, you like me, right?”

Your eyes were ready to pop out of your skull. “Like you? I mean- Yes but- but not like- Like…” You squeaked as your back thumped against your door. Your hand reached behind and blindly searched for the doorknob. When you finally caught it, the blonde slammed a hand beside your head.

His face inched forward, a frown contorted on his handsome, hardened features. “Like what?” He breathed. You shivered at his warm breath fanning your cold skin. Hesitation paralysed your tongue, and as you struggled to speak, he clasped your jaw with his hand. His questioning, cold gaze was unlike the usual warmth he carried. And it scared you. You swallowed and choked out.

“...Not like lovers.”

A silence ensued between the two of you. The birds outside your window chirped with fervour, as if you weren’t cornered by your customer whom you had grown to trust over the past couple of months. His thick brows knitted tightly against his forehead as he gripped your jaw harshly. You winced, his bruising touch hurt and your hands clawed at his wrist. His nose wrinkled with displeasure as his eyes darkened. He was disappointed, but he couldn’t deny that he saw it coming. Didn’t sting any less.

“So that’s what you think of me,” he spat. Then he smashed his lips against yours and yanked your towel off your body. Your hands flew to his chest as you desperately pushed, a muffled scream on your lips as you resisted. Leon gripped your wrists and slammed them over your head against the door whilst slotting a knee between your trembling legs.

You tried to shout but he shoved his tongue into your mouth and embraced yours in a passionate tango. You couldn’t scream, couldn’t stop him as he shut you up with fervent kisses that sent shocks down your spine. His knee rubbed against your slit, and he bumped into your clit purposefully, eliciting a whine from your saliva stained lips. He pulled away to look at you– and gods, you were so beautiful. So pliant for him, so–

“Help!”

You screamed at the top of your lungs. But your head snapped to the side, and you stared blankly at his shoes. Your cheek stung, pulsating with a dull throb as you placed a hand over where he had slapped you. Tears welled up in your eyes and you refused to look up at him. You tried to run again, but this time he dragged you over to your bed and pushed you down.

Then he flipped open his phone and showed you his photos. You gaped in shock at the hundreds of blurry yet distinct shower pics in his album. The focal point? You.

He met your concerned gaze with a half-lidded one. He spoke quietly and slowly as he held the device over your face.

“You can run, but all it takes is one push and I’ll have this photo publicised everywhere. You wouldn’t want to ruin your parent’s business… right?”

More tears welled in your eyes and your bottom lip trembled with a sob. He hushed you and pressed a kiss to your forehead. Lashes fluttered close as your tears slid down your damp cheeks while the water from your undried hair seeped into your sheets. His voice was a broken record as your vision darkened.

“Shh, it’s alright. It’s gonna be alright…”

The rest was a blur. All you remembered was foggy vision and searing skin. But Leon remembered it all. You put up quite an impressive fight for a little girl like you. You had landed a blow in his temple and sent him reeling into your bed frame. But you were too weak to run, thanks to all the love bites he left around your inner thighs and legs that left you tingly and numb. You tried to crawl away, but even then it was pointless.

For the most part, you were pretty compliant. Like the good girl you were, you spread your legs prettily when asked and even nursed his cock with your lewd tongue, eyes glazed with tears and self-hate whilst he ate your pussy out. Hell, the rumours were true. Virgins gave the best head. You let him cum down your throat too, like the good girl you were. Your mouth pussy was so tight that he swore he saw angels flapping above him. And the cherry on top was when he finally hilted inside you, becoming one at last.

You laid quietly on his chest as he stroked your hair. It was damp, unlike your body which blazed with an ungodly heat that only hell could compete with. Your heart thumped in your chest, a rhythm unmatched with Leon’s. You couldn’t see his face, and it was probably best this way.

He was your first– a fact you had to come to terms with. You sniffled softly. Even though he forced himself on you, he still made sure to make it not hurt too much. It was too easy to give in to his touches– so you failed to put up a decent struggle. A single tear slid down your flushed cheek. You hated that he was so gentle yet so cruel with you.

For Leon, you would be his last, because he swore he’d never let go of you. He would make you his. Physically first, emotionally second, whatever the order mattered little to him. Because you were now bound to him, your souls intertwined in ways your bodies could never attempt to achieve.

He stared up at the ceiling. There was so much to do, and so much time now that you were his. Today felt good. Great. Pride glowed in his chest and he kissed your damp hair tenderly. You were finally his. Finally his to take and to train.

…

“L-Leon!” you squealed, clawing at the sink that he had bent you over. Jeans and panties pooled at your ankles, sitting on your dirty sneakers. Your lips were bleeding because you bit them to stop your screams.

You always had the wildest reactions to whatever he did. Was it because you were a nervous wreck? It’s been barely a month since he started breaking you in. Quite a bit of time to get accustomed to his antics. Looks like you needed more practice, he mentally noted.

“Shut up,” he hissed, rising to his full length to tower over you. His chest pressed against your back, and you whined at the heat pressed between your butt. “Be quiet or they’re gonna find us.”

You held his gaze in the bathroom mirror, and he placed his hands over yours as you still gripped the sink. Your hair had come undone, a mess that framed your flushed face as you panted softly. Goodness, you looked like a wreck. No thanks to the smug bastard behind you.

The blonde took pride in his work and belted out a laugh. A smack on your ass reeled you over the sink again, and you glared at him. Your eyes screamed: aren’t you a hypocrite? But he answered with a boyish grin that gave you butterflies. The damned smile of the devil himself.

His zipper travelled south and he popped himself out of his pants. He stroked it mindlessly before spinning you around so that you faced him. You stared at him incredulously and he gestured with a nod of his chin.

Leon needed no words, you knew what he wanted. Your bare knees hit the sticky bathroom tiles as you knelt, on tiles where its corners were cracked and filled with dirt that religiously lined its crevices. You took his semi-hard on in your little hand, and it twitched to stand at full length. It curved towards his toned abdomen, jumping in your loose hold. The head was flushed, beads of precum dotted the circumference of the tip.

You looked up at him and licked tentatively. He inhaled through his teeth as you gave him puppy licks, teasing the tip with the curve of your tongue while languidly stroking his cock. His hands carded through your hair, pushing back your stray hairs so that he could see you better. So pretty and willing for him, he grinned, and so eager to please.

A broken moan fell from his lips as you suckled on the tip like a baby on a pacifier. He tugged your hair backwards, and you frowned at him but took him in your mouth fully. You swallowed around his length, and it jumped in your throat as he clamped a hand on your head. He held you steady as he thrust his hips, fucking your throat deep and slow like he liked. He was never the kind of guy to rush a process in sex. Not when your mouth pussy was the perfect toy in the world. All for him to monopolise and use.

He chewed on his bottom lip and groaned. “So good. ‘S perfect for me, shit- Good girl. Taking my cock with your mouth so well- fuck…” He babbled mindlessly, drowning in his pleasure as you clutched the back of his ankles. You gripped onto the scratchy fabric with your fingernails and moaned around his length. Suddenly, somebody knocked.

“Hey. Are you there, (y/n)?” Your father called out. You stared up at Leon in terror, but he was too preoccupied with your throat hugging his dick to even care. You gagged when he jabbed his dick against your gummy walls.

You glared at him with teary eyes, and he gestured at your nose- no doubt reminding you to breathe with it. Gently slapping his legs, you tried to free yourself with a warning look. Leon rolled his eyes and called out, “You’ve got the wrong person. It’s just me.”

“Oh-” your dad recognised him, and he hesitated before saying, this time louder. “(y/n)’s missing, I can’t find her anywhere.”

“I’m sure she’s fine. Maybe she’s upstairs,” He grinned as he thrust into your mouth. You gagged again, and he chuckled softly as he stroked the top of your head. “Perhaps she’s taking a shower.”

As if something clicked in you, your eyes widened in fear and you tried to pull away frantically. Not that he’d let you, as he held your head in place from the back, fingers tangled with your hair as he dug his blunt nails into your scalp. A warning to remind you of your place. You complied with a weakened grasp on his pants as you lowered your eyes.

Your father muttered incoherently before stomping away. When a minute passed, Leon finally pulled out and you gasped exaggeratedly, a hand rubbing your sore throat.

“You’re such an asshole sometimes,” you whisper shouted through coughs. The fight in your eyes had returned as you leaned against the wall, pants still pooled around your ankles. The man you mistook for a kind person was truly a wolf in sheep’s clothing all along, a ravenous beast that ravaged you whenever he fancied. You knew that now. If only you had known sooner, then you wouldn’t be stuck in this mess.

“You know you like it,” he said in a sing song voice. You crinkled your forehead as he lowered the toilet seat cover and sat on top of it.

He spread his legs and leaned back. His dick twitched against his stomach. Its length shined with your saliva and blood from your busted lips. Your chest tightened as he coaxed you with the wave of his hand.

“C’mon, finish what you started.”

…

Your parents were on to the two of you faster than he’d expected. There was one time when he almost found Leon and you in the restaurant’s kitchen. If it weren’t for the locked door, he was sure your dad (if he could muster the strength) would chop his balls off and frame them above his bed like a banner. That was how much he had grown to detest the regular, evident in the way he would wordlessly slam his dishes down on his table. Maybe he knew what had transpired in the toilet that day. How he fucked your ass and brains out in the toilet til you were a whimpering, unthinking mess. The store had to close for the day because of the lack of help on the sales floor.

Your dad even refused the fat tips for his wonderful service. Oh, whatever shall Leon do?

Your mother was also a bit of a tough crowd. Eyes sharp with distrust, always keeping her daughter by her side in the kitchen. Her death grip on the butcher knife would’ve been frightening if it weren’t for her trembling knees when he gazed her way. Maybe she also knew of that one time he made you squirt in your parent's room, coating their bedroom mirror with your shared fluids as he pressed you against it. Quite the overprotective parents they were.

And for the other regulars, they continued fantasising about their lovely waitress. Not knowing that she was taken by a traitor among them, a guy that kept to himself in the corners, lighter in hand as he lured your attention as always. Like a moth drawn to a flame, you always found yourself in his arms time and time again.

Your parents were in their room next door as you sat in his lap, legs wrapped around his waist. Two bodies clung desperately together, wrapped in a sweaty embrace as he cupped your plush ass cheeks in his hands, hoisting you up and then dropping you so you’d slam down on his length. His eyes, muddied with desire, were locked with yours as your tongues fought for dominance in each other's mouths. A pile of underwear, his and yours– the lacey one with roses and ribbons (from ages ago)– were tangled on the carpet indiscreetly.

Your hands wandered up and down his scarred back. The tip of his cock jabbed against your cervix, and you whimpered against his lips. Fingernails dug into the scar on his shoulder, an indented wound that caused him to exhale through gritted teeth.

“Leon-” you pulled away and rested your forehead against his. Your nose bumped into his as he bounced you, “-I love you. I love- mhn… love you so much…”

The blonde could barely hear your muffled words over the incessant creaking of your bed. But he nuzzled your nose, a smile playing on his flushed face.

“I love you too,” he whispered, and he pressed a tender kiss to your lips. “Love you so much, baby.”

He slowed down his ministries and embraced your lips with delicate kisses. With his twitching cock buried in the depths of your sticky, pulsing cunt, you moaned his name and angled your head for more. Your arms wrapped around his neck in a loose embrace as you stayed like this, sloppily kissing while basking in the moonlight that seeped from your curtains.

You grinded your softness against his body, chest mushed on his sweaty pectorals. A mewl fell from your swollen lips as you gazed at him longingly. “More, need more.”

“Fuck,” he inhaled shakily. He swiped his thumb under the crease of your eye. “You’re such a needy thing. Drunk on my cock this quick already, hm?”

“Yeah,” you smiled softly, “‘Cause it’s you.”

The man laughed quietly– he swore there were butterflies in his stomach. They fluttered around in his depths as if he wasn’t currently balls deep in you. God, he was so whipped for you. He was such a lucky man– he didn’t deserve your smile.

He carefully flipped you over and placed you on your knees. You rested your head on the sheets, leaned forward to tilt your butt towards him. It rested on your crack, and a giggle bubbled from you when you wriggled against his cock. A playful smack on one cheek echoed in your room. You would shoot him death glares whenever he did that. But today you moaned into the sheets and smooshed your ass against his torso for more.

Fuck, he grimaced. How did you get this lewd? Oh it was thanks to him. With his ego mightily stoked, he chuckled and soothed the hand mark with another.

Leon gripped your waist with one hand, another spreading your cheeks to get a better view as he slid himself into your wetness. You were always a tight fuck, gripping hard enough to snap him in half, but today’s descent into you had him arching his own back in bliss. It was like you were trying to milk his balls worth, like you wanted a bun in the oven tonight.

You gritted your sheets in your teeth, strings of drool snaking down your chin as your body rocked up and down the bed. Muffled moans rose in pitch as he speared your insides, his hipbone smashing into your jiggling ass with the relentless snapping of his hips. Dishevelled threads of blonde hair hung over his tightly lidded eyes, bouncing as he chased his high.

“Fuck fuck fuck. I love you. You’re mine-” he rambled as he slammed into your womb punishingly. “-Gonna breed you with my kids. You want that? Fuck, say you want it!”

Tears welled up in your eyes as you babbled his name brokenly. Garbled ‘yes’s fell from your quivering lips, and he snaked a hand under you to slap your clit with his calloused, scarred palm. You gasped and he shoved your head into the mattress when you cried his name in pleasure. A few more slaps and you were trembling like a leaf, your upper body totally collapsed onto the bed like a used doll. Your walls gripped him tightly, ripping out a deep moan from Leon. Then he pressed his hips flushed to your quivering butt and emptied his seed into you.

The warmth in your belly was comforting, the heat spread to the rest of your body as you hummed softly in approval. You collapsed entirely on the bed, and his dick slipped out with a soft sound. Stained with rings of cream, it hung limply between his toned thighs, and you weakly crawled over to run your tongue along one of its veins.

Leon’s cock twitched on your tongue. Amused, he took his phone and snapped a picture of you. He held the screen beside your face, gazing at the matching blissed out expressions you carried in both. He pushed your hair behind your ear as you nuzzled against his leg. Your eyes began fluttering shut, and he gently adjusted your limp body so that you laid down beside him. He pulled your blanket over the two of you and held you flushed to his chest. Your breathing slowed to a steady pace, and he pecked your forehead with his lips.

You deserved a bigger tip the next time he visited. For your generous customer service. He made a mental note and closed his eyes, too tired to care about the rattling of your doorknob across the room.

all content written by @puppyina ! do not repost, edit or plagiarise. requests are open for any past written characters.

#resident evil #leon kennedy #leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy x fem reader #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x y/n #leon kennedy x you #resident evil smut #leon kennedy oneshot #leon kennedy fanfic #resident evil x you #resident evil x reader #resident evil leon kennedy #resident evil oneshot #leon kennedy x you smut #cw: smut #cw: noncon #cw: dubcon #cw: blackmail #cw: stalker #cw: breeding #cw: blood #minors dni #minors do not interact #dead dove do not eat

[wintersera]

sick and twisted || stepsibling g!p winrina x virgin!freader

notes: making a comeback. sorry anon for the long ass delay, but i also merged it with another ask bc i thought it would work well together. do NAWT ask why i took so long- i was going thru it 😭😭

cw: porn with plot, stepcest/pseudo incest, noncon -> dubcon, g!p dom winrina, virgin!reader, corruption, use of cuffs, oral (giving), blackmail, biting/marking, creampie, gagging, degredation, slapping, family issues, arguments, mentions of divorce.

wc 3.9k

if you told jimin and minjeong that they would have another step-sibling in their life they would scoff at you, then laugh and say that’s not possible… then scoff in your face again.

yet here they were moving into another house their father bought for you and your mother.

isn’t that fun?

jimin, the actual biological child, was born and raised with a hot headed mother and poor excuse of a father. living with the two was hell for her, dealing with her mothers bull shittery almost every damn day.. and the absence of her father always led to her mother lashing out at her and never him. longer down the line of their shitty marriage, the father decided to pull the trigger and divorce her for good. maybe it was money issues? maybe it was something else? jimin didnt like to pry and she was glad she left it like that.

minjeong was the child of a broke, whorish and shitty woman. the marriage between jimin's father and minjeong’s mother actually lasted quite a while… to their surprise. who knew another horrid woman in this rich fuck of a man’s life would actually do some good to the both of them.

they ended up acting like they knew each other from day one- like i kid you not, they were inseparable. even after the divorce of their father and mother they still stayed together, obviously choosing their dad because god that man was rich as hell and they knew that they could use some privilege from it. not only that, but for some reason their dad loosened up a little, he actually became a much better person and worked on his self improvement, unlike minjeong’s mother who stayed a cheating BITCH … no wonder why their father divorced her sorry ass.

but beside the point. jimin, minjeong and their father arrived at the new mansion. somewhere secluded and somewhere breathtaking- only because your step father really thought your mother was the one and only woman for him.

jiminjeong, without prior notice to their fathers new found wife, and no knowledge of the womans daughter, were left shocked when they saw the two of you enter through the mansion’s doors.

your first impressions weren’t good at all… your mother looked and acted like- guess what?!! a bitch… and you? you seemed pretty decent at first, so jimin and minjeong didn’t really care. yeah, unfortunately they didn’t click with you, but they thought that they should give it some time. you were unfamiliar with the new environment and they knew it would cause crazy anxiety.

—

a couple months into the family and you and your mother finally started to act comfortably around the rest. it didn’t take long for you mother to start acting up though- frankly she opened up too much, as in, she started to become more and more of an asshole as the months went by. at first it started as simple requests from your step father. she would go around the house demanding him to buy this and that. her ego grew… and when i say grew, it inflated actually. nothing could stop her from being a prick, and unfortunately she influenced you to act like the same way.

she had a plan- she really didn’t love your step father. instead she was really just into it for the money. and of course, you knew that plan from the beginning. as much as you didn’t like your mother, the plan wasn’t half bad- deciding to stay with her was the right choice, well you thought so anyways. anything for money i guess.

the workload he had stressed your step father out so much and your mothers constant requests for money really didn’t help. berating him almost every day, sometimes she would go so far to the point of him having to lock himself in his office just so he could avoid her.

only 6 months of living together and she’s already driving him crazy? jimin and minjeong looked at each other in disbelief, surely you wouldn’t join in on the disruptive behaviour… right?

oh they were so wrong.

YOU-

you wanted the plan to go well too… you needed that cash. fuck your mother and everything, that cash meant more than your strained bond. you wanted it for yourself, so now it was your turn to fuck around and be a dick head.

doing everything in your power to get money from your step father, like your mother did. it started out all simple and sweet.. you know like casually asking for allowance, and since he was rich as fuck, allowance was usually something around 2k per ask. racking up the money somewhere in your room for yourself, you didn’t realise jimin and minjeong were staring at you through the crack of the door.

jimin carefully lowered herself to minjeong’s height, making sure you wouldn’t be able to hear an utter from her. whispering in her ear “what a waste… she’s pretty but she’s a money stealing prick”

somehow minjeong was calm about it, thinking you were just stashing it up because she knew you were previously broke. she’s been in that same situation, showing some sort of empathy towards you “i mean.. she hasn’t done any bad yet… well i hope she never does actually. i hope she’s not like her mom”

jimin scoffs “i doubt that”

the sound of something dropping on the floor caught their attention, you’d dropped a bag of some sort. their hearts beating out of their chests thinking that you had caught them watching you. thankfully you didn’t, uttering under a few curses under your breath and nothing else. sighing in relief, they had back to their respective rooms and called it a day.

that was until they heard you shouting downstairs after a couple of hours.

“fuck you mean you can’t give me any more money. aren’t you supposed to be my dad? you know, someone who cares for their children and shit”

jimin woke up first, creeping into minjeongs room and shaking her awake “…mmm… huh? what’s up”

“don’t be surprised, but i think y/n is arguing with our dad… told you she was like her mom”

sneaking their way downstairs, tiptoeing so they wouldn’t be heard. they notice their dad hunched over in the couch, his hands covering his face in.. anger? or sadness. they couldn’t tell.

“GOD- fuck you’re such a shit step dad… you know what fuck you” the step father being on the verge of tears, the way he balled up his fists, the way his face was red hot and the way he was biting down hard on his lip, you knew it was was working and you knew you were such a shit person for it, you were growing heated too- for some reason. mothers genetics you could say.

“you couldn’t keep your first wife, and you couldn’t keep your second wife?! and now you’re going to lose your third all because you can’t provide for your family like the good man you are.” you laughed in his face and clicked your tongue “ahhh it all makes sense now. you're a miserable excuse of a father and a poor excuse of a husband. you’re rich as hell i dont know why you can’t give me anymore money…”

“i-i.. i’m trying my best you know y/n” voice cracking “i’m doing my best to keep the family together… i just want us to be happy”

“yeah well you’re not doing a good job now are you? hell, you’re also a shitty example of a man too. go ahead and write those divorce papers. i’m sick of your shit”

with that, you walked back upstairs, jimin and minjeong running back up trying not to get caught.

you’d struck a nerve in them, witnessing you berate their dad knowing that he’s a changed man, made them vexed. jimin had been peering at your face, an obvious crease in her forehead and in between her brows made it obvious that she was planning something sick. minjeong had a cold and blank scowl.

they both gave each other knowing looks, a smirk on both of their faces… whatever they had in mind was not morally right, but they couldn’t care less.

—

sleeping soundly after the whole argument, glad that you could possibly get something out of it by the time you woke up, you failed to hear the sound of your lock being picked open.

jimin creeped towards your bed, gritting her teeth as she tried her very best not to punch you in the face. utter disgust was the one thing she was feeling, looking at you made her grimace. she found you pretty at first glance but after she witnessed you tear down her dad, her vision was shattered. even if she wanted to beat you up, she couldn’t, she wanted to defile you first. with shaky hands, she lifted the thick bed sheets off of your body, carefully stripped you out of your clothes and gazed at your naked body. she lightly slapped her cheek, you looked good bare but she didn’t let that take over her… yet.

she hooked your wrist onto the bed frame. the cold icy feeling of the cuffs latching onto your left wrist made you stir in your sleep, yet it wasn’t enough to wake you up from your deep slumber.

minjeong had the job of writing on you. depriving your humanity by writing objectifying words on your bare stomach. words such as ‘slut’, ‘filthy whore’, ‘gold digger’, were written across your stomach, thighs and legs. if it wasn’t humiliating enough, she took pics just for safe measures. it was horrible, yes she knew that.

she thought how genius it would be to draw an arrow on your lower abdomen pointing down towards your pussy, the words above saying ‘use here’. giggling to herself as she snapped another pic.

the flash from minjeong’s camera startled you. waking up grumpily asking “what the fuck is going on” as you tug on your arm, only to realise that you’ve chained to the bed.

first thing you noticed was minjeong’s camera pointing towards you, bright flash blinding your eyes “fuck- shit, this isn’t funny. turn the camera off” the chains on the cuff rattling as you attempt to pry them off “guys… this isn’t funny… take it off”

second thing you realised was the lack of clothing. the chilly air hit your body, goosebumps forming on your skin. the warmth of the blanket was no more and the intense humiliation began to seep into your body.

thirdly, the writing on your stomach and legs as you look down analysing the situation.

“you shouldn’t have said that earlier. the disrespect you have… yu y/n you’re disgusting” jimin spat at you, her gaze turned towards minjeong who then nodded. afraid that they would kill you right on the spot, automatically you started to sob out pathetic pleas

“listen, shit- i’m sorry. i was desperate okay… he should’ve given me the money anyway- cut me some slack, it was only a one time thing. you know, me and my mom rea-“

a hand flew to your face “shut the fuck up” she left a red stinging mark on your cheek- well deserved. minjeong gritted her teeth, she didn’t want her dad to wake up to another argument yet alone waking up to his two kids fight his other kid “this picture i took.. do you want this to be uploaded everywhere?” rapidly shaking your head in denial. the image in question was so vulgar, your legs being spread apart while the words ‘use here’ were pointing right at your pussy, it was truly horrible. minjeongs lips tugged upwards, biting back a snicker only because she wanted to seem serious and mean about this- oh and also because the image violently turned her on.

“n-no… delete the pic- please i’ll give the money back and apologise… just.. don’t upload it anywhere” hiccuping while hot tears streamed down to your chin.

“poor you” jimin added on “no one can help you now.. do as you’re told” her tone was sickening to hear.

it clicked and you felt disgusted, the knowing look that they had.. body language showing that they were about to ravish you. it was gross.

your tear stained face shifted into a dreaded look. feeling jittery, your eyes widened as both of them slid down their boxers, revealing their cocks that sprung up.

“…you guys are sick…” there’s no way in hell that they were about to do this. but here they were, approaching you as you attempt to free your wrist from the cuffs again “get away f-from me… you sick fuckers” minjeong sprang onto the bed first, holding your legs open as you try to kick away from her grasp. curses and shouts left your mouth, but they were useless since jimin wrapped her hand around it.

there was no use in fighting back. you gave into their heinous acts even if your body was rejecting them. no one was there to help you anyway. even if you called for your mother, she wouldn’t give a shit since she only cared for herself from the very beginning.

jimin, who stood beside you, pressed her cock against your face. you could feel her throbbing as she placed it on your cheek, the hard thing felt slimy and gross- you denied her as she tried to forcefully shove it in your mouth, which ended up with her slapping it around your face like you were some common whore “open up, unless you want those pics of you online” of course you didn’t want that- those posts would ruin your reputation, your self esteem. it would ruin you.

mentally screaming in your head, you open your mouth wide, feeling her thick cock enter your mouth slowly. jimin let out a long sigh, savouring the feeling of your tongue at the base of her cock- “a-ah.. you’re taking me whole? you slut” moaning out as she steadily rocks her hips back and forth “you should- mm fuck.. really use this m-mouth just to take dick, don’t you agree jeongie”

minjeong, who was stroking her dick in between your legs, nodded her head. fixated on the way you took jimin’s throbbing cock easily down your throat. she watched you with keen eyes, keeping her gaze on the way your lips parted and wrapped around her shaft while also listening to the gagging sounds you made everytime jimin hit the back of your throat.

having more of a moral compass in comparison to jimin, she felt a little bad for you- but couldn’t help getting off to the view in front of her. she grinned, a very fucked up grin you could say. grabbing her phone again, she pressed record without you noticing- being so caught up with having dick stuffed in your mouth. spreading your lips apart, pointing the cameras and zooming in on your soaked pussy “you really are a whore- getting wet from this.. you should’ve said you wanted this from the beginning y/n. or were you too much of a coward to ask” slapping your pussy repeatedly, earning a few muffled moans.

putting the phone down minjeong slipped her hard cock inside of you, skipping the condom and everything.

your pussy was tight, almost like a virgins… wait- “god, don’t tell me you’re a… you’re a virgin?” a sick and twisted smile crept upon both jimins and minjeongs face. and the way they got harder hearing that news further implicated that they were morally fucked up in the head “mmm… fuck, you’re so tight that i can barely move… y/n ah- ngh..” by trying to push her dick further into you, it caused you to scream out in pain and pleasure- the sensation of her throbbing cock filling up your virgin pussy felt alien, yet so good. thankfully you were soaking wet, and the precum slathered around minjeongs dick helped it slide in much easier than it should have.

“nmghh hurts… hurts-” you manage to say between breaths, voice muffled by jimin's cock still being pumped in and out of your throat. minjeong couldn’t care, extracting her anger out on your pussy, stretching it wide open for her own sick pleasure. she scoffed,

“not so talkative now, are you?” she mocks, her hands gripping the sides of your hips, nails digging into your flesh as she jolts her hips which caused her tip to ram into the entrance of your cervix. fuck.. and it hurt like hell. never being filled up by something so large, your eyes begin to roll back, and you begin to scream around jimin's cock.

both of them showed absolutely no mercy, using your body as if it was a toy for their pleasure. being used in such a way made you feel heated, your stomach tightening as they continue to force themselves into your holes.

minjeong moaned out, her nails digging deeper and deeper into your flesh, almost breaking it. your tight cunt clamping down so hard on her cock threw her into a frenzy- she observes your face with hearts in her eyes, she never felt this powerful before, god… even her movements sped up- there was a husky rasp to her moans, it even seemed animalistic.

and there was jimin, gripping your hair in a messy ponytail just so that she can ruthlessly fuck your mouth. with the amount that she was tugging and pulling on your head, you could assume that your head was throbbing in pain- assuming anyways, because you were feeling strangely good that you most likely ignored the pain.

as planned, they continue their assault on you. pussy already stretched out and abused, and your jaw began to ache.

enough of that jimin thought. although she enjoyed your warm throat, mouth and tongue working magic on her cock, she couldn’t forget that this was your punishment. the palm of her hand pushed your forehead, prompting you to lay back down, head meeting the soft pillows. you fell with a light thud- now due to the fact that you had nothing in your mouth to keep you quiet, and the way that minjeong was still pummelling into your pussy raw, you had no other choice but to cry out loud… not in a ‘save me, help me!’ way, it was more like a “fuck, fuck- mmnngh… w-wait- feels ah..!?” type of way.

jimin looked at her younger step sibling. she knew minjeong was too heated to even think about the punishment. she clicked her tongue in annoyance.

minjeongs fingers made their way to your clit, toying and rubbing with the sensitive nub. it only pushed you to moan even louder, the first time you’d have someone play with your clit.. waves of pleasure washed over your body causing you to wriggle around. seemed like jeongie was a little pussy drunk, actually no, she was pussy drunk. every pound forced your cunt to the best fucktoy for her. at this point her sweat dripped down from her temple to the side of her face with how fucking fast her hips were going.

jimin stood for a moment- thats when it struck her, another great plan came to mind. she kneeled on top of your bed, making it creak a little, shuffling a little closer to where minjeong was positioned, she whispered something sinister into her ears.

“get up-“ jimin ordered with an authoritative voice “stand up y/n” you winced, hissing out in pain as minjeong carelessly pulls her cock out with a little-

“mmm.. now? oh yeah, okay…” jeongie thankfully takes the cuffs off. thank god she did because the pain from the hard ass metal had you rubbing your wrist, a slightly deep and red mark sat on your skin.

“y/n, stand up” jimin ordered once again.

coughing out, voice hoarse “…fuck no… n-not gonna”

“still talking back?” minjeong sneered. now both of them are pretty strong- being able to toss you across the room for shits and giggle.. but not so much shits and giggles when you’re forced to stand up, seized inbetween jimins strong grip, both hands around your bare shoulders. she momentarily gawked between your legs, she snickered-

“lowlife stealing bitch and now a whore even though you were a virgin… you honestly deserve this” all at once her dick pierces your cunt, her erratic movements earning a guttural moan that came straight out your throat. following jimin, minjeong came from behind, lifting your leg into the air so that she could make room for herself.

“don’t…!? you’re gonna b-break me- i can’t fit both in me.. wait, please pleaseplease anything but this- please!?!” teasing her dick at your entrance, basking in the feeling of your wet pussy again. jimins thick cock was bigger than you’d anticipated- but having minjeong’s in your cunt as well would surely leave you unable to walk. not like they cared…

ramming both at different speeds caused you to lose control of everything. unable to adjust to their length, your hands instinctively search for something to grab ,because really.. who can function normally with two girthy dicks stuffed inside of their virgin pussy.

if one of them pumped in, the other one pumped out. an endless stream of violent railing that turned your brain to mush. beyond saving, and beyond speech- nothing more than gargled moans and incoherent mumbles fell from your mouth. so, so intense that you felt like your body was giving in-

being dehumanised and degraded and only made for jiminjeongs use. you hated that you learned to love it.

jimin threw her head back, her mouth agape moaning at how stuffed your pussy was and how much of a cock slut you were. hips snapping each time she felt like you weren’t reacting the way she wanted. huffing each time she felt close- her plan wasn’t completed yet and because of that she had to restrain from shooting her load into your womb.

minjeong bit down on your shoulder, marking you everywhere she could- only because she could take a couple more pictures later and use that as blackmail and definitely not her own personal use. she nuzzled herself into the crook of your neck- leaving dark bruises scattered across your nape.

you wrap your arms around jimins neck “feel- feel weird… haa.. mmngh-“ you squeezed your eyes shut, your body tensed, you heard the two of them pant in your ear, jimins low moaning reverberating in your head and minjeong high pitched whimpers suggested that they were as close as you were.

“take it- fuck,, take it all you filthy whore” jimin snapping her hips as she fills your entire cunt with her semen. not even a second later, minjeong ejaculates as well, she squeals and bites into your neck, both hers and jimins legs shaking from the harsh orgasm. you follow in their pleasure, letting out a strangled moan, head slumping backwards into minjeong as your body falls limp.

they leave you afterwards, letting you lay weakly on the floor “what happens here, stays here. if you tell anyone we’ll know.. oh and those pics will be posted” walking out the door as if nothing ever happened. and yet you’re laying down on your carpet cunt filled up with a mixture of their semen leaking out.

hmm… guess you’ll have to piss them off again. who knows what they’ll do to you.

HELP IDK HOW TO FEEL ABT THIS? THOUGHTS????

#wintersera #cw: noncon #cw: stepcest #aespa smut #aespa x fem reader smut #g!p aespa #g!p winter #g!p karina #aespa karina smut #aespa winter smut #kpop smut #girl group smut #kpop girl group smut

[cordeliawhohung]

anyway, say thanks to the brain worms in the discord server for this one

dark!gaz/soap x fem!reader

Kyle and Johnny catch sight of you in a bar, and decide that you're much better off with them.

cw: non-con, dark content, alcohol, roofies, kidnapping, the boys are not very nice

Bars weren’t your usual haunt, yet your date for that night managed to make you comfortable despite the crowded and stuffy building. Tucked in a booth in some out-of-the-way corner, the two of you nursed your drinks as you got to know one another, slowly testing the waters to see if it was worth seeing one another again. Though he had been a stranger at the beginning of the night, you found yourself sincerely enjoying his company. He was a bit of a nerd, whose eyes lit up when talking about the storyline to his favorite games, and you found it cute the way he had to keep adjusting his thick-lensed glasses while they slid down his nose. 

It wasn’t until he got up to use the bathroom that your eyes started to wander. Not on purpose, of course, as you would never be rude enough to abandon a date for someone else while the two of you were actively out. No, your eyes only wandered because someone else approached you, and it would be a lie to say he wasn’t the most goddamn beautiful human you had ever laid eyes on. His complexion was impeccable with smooth skin save for a small scar on his cheek, and the slight stubble made his polite smile more alluring. What really got you were his eyes. They were an enchanting dark brown that glistened in the dull yellow lights that lit the area, and you found your throat growing tight at the sight of him. 

“Evening,” he greeted. Fuck, even his voice was nice, and his tone was smoky and suave. All you could do was sit in your seat and stare up at him as he leaned a hand on the table, almost as if silently begging you to allow him in. “You look a little lonely. You haven’t been left high and dry, I hope?” 

Chuckling, you shook your head as you adjusted your attire, a little self conscious about having a specimen such as that stranger look at you. “No, no my date’s just in the bathroom.” 

Though there was a flicker of disappointment in his gaze, he did a good job at obscuring it for the most part. Instead, his smile widened, and he nodded his head in understanding. 

“Ah, so you’re tellin’ me I’m too late, then,” he chuckled. “Everythin’ going good, then? He’s not a nutter?” 

You couldn’t help but giggle at his concern, his sincere concern. Not only was he perhaps the most beautiful man you had ever seen, but he was a gentleman as well? Didn’t take rejection poorly at all and confirmed that you were safe? You wished your date had chosen some other pub to go to that night, because you were certain this man was attempting to put a spell on you. 

“Everything’s all good, thank you,” you confirmed with a smile. 

“Great. Well, if things start going south…” The man paused to look over his shoulder and gesture towards the bar. Among the other patrons, you quickly caught sight of the man he pointed out, as his mohawk stood out like a sore thumb. Then again, he was probably one of the largest — dare you say, beefiest? — people there, and it would have been impossible not to tell him apart in a crowd. “My friend and I will be here for a few hours still, in case you need us.” 

Once again you gave him a polite smile as you thanked him for his offer, and he sauntered back over to his friend with a courteous farewell. It was perhaps the kindest interaction you had ever experienced with a stranger in a pub before, yet it left you flustered all the same, so much so that you hardly realized that your date had returned until he sat across from you in the booth once more. Praying he didn’t notice your state of mind, you quickly raised your drink to your lips where you downed a few big gulps with the silent hope that you would forget all about that handsome stranger lest you looked like a whore to your date. 

Luckily the two of you picked up where you had left off, and for a while you had forgotten all about that man. You listened to your date talk about his studies in computer science, and an indie game he helped design, and you watched as everything began to tilt. Lights flashed in your face and when you tried to blink them away they wouldn’t leave, and you found your chest needing to heave in order to get a good breath in. Something felt wrong, yet you didn’t want to make a fool of yourself in front of your date, so you tried to hide it by taking another gulp of your drink. 

Nothing soothed your dizzy vision or your fuzzy mind, and it got so bad you couldn’t even understand what your date said anymore. All your energy focused on trying to keep yourself upright in that booth, but you wanted nothing more than to lay down. You were certain the cool wood of the table would feel intoxicating against your feverish skin, maybe you could do it, just for a moment… 

“What’s going on here?” 

That voice was one you didn’t recognize, and when you looked up to see who spoke, you could vaguely make out the fuzzy features of a large man with his hands leaned on the table. He was angry, with a sharp voice and a thick Scottish accent, but you didn’t know who he was. You felt like you should know, but you couldn’t place a name to his face. 

“Did you drug her?” the man questioned further. 

“No! I didn’t do anything!” your date attempted to defend. 

“Bull-fucking-shit, look at her!” 

Something grazed your arm, and usually you would jump at sudden sensations like that, but it felt so disconnected from your body that you didn’t even realize something had touched you until a voice prompted your attention. 

“You alright, doll?”

It was that kind man from earlier, and his voice was just as calm and polite as it was when he spoke to you before. You felt a response flit across your tongue, but you couldn’t make any sense of the words you said. A fit of shouting erupted from somewhere in the bar, and you felt the table shake, but you couldn’t find the emotions within you to care. 

Suddenly, things felt too heavy, as if the gravity of the earth increased tenfold. You realized you were standing, though you didn’t remember getting up from the booth, and the only reason why you hadn’t collapsed was because of the firm arm around your waist. Eventually cold air hit your face, and you felt your feet stumble along the pavement before you were gently placed into the back seat of someone’s car. You didn’t even bother trying to keep sitting upright, and instead laid yourself across the seats as you curled in on yourself. 

“Don’t worry, doll,” you were assured, “Soap and I will take good care of you.” 

A strange sort of darkness enveloped you after that, and it was the closest thing to death you had ever experienced. There were no dreams, or images that attempted to comfort you as your mind rotted away; there was nothing. Just an emptiness where you didn’t exist for a while. 

When your mind slowly started to drift into consciousness again, the first thing you noticed was the sound of smacking. It was as if someone consumed a meal without worrying about slurping too much, and the noises were loud and obscene. Your vision flickered back to life, and you were met with an unfamiliar scene. The ceiling above your head was not the ceiling to your bedroom, nor did it look like any ceiling you’d find in a hospital. Your head rested against something too firm to be a pillow, yet too soft to be the floor, and you did your best to get a better glance at your surroundings. 

You looked down at yourself only to realize you were completely naked. No underwear, no bra, not even your socks; every single article of clothing had been removed, and you were given nothing to cover yourself with. Two firm arms wrapped around your midsection from behind, and you realized that semi-soft surface you leaned against was a person who had you held in their embrace. All of that was bad enough, but you felt your stomach lurch and your still fuzzy mind scream when you saw what happened between your legs. 

That mohawked man you had seen at the bar earlier that night laid sprawled out on the bed in front of you with his mouth greedily devouring your cunt. You watched in pure horror as his tongue lapped at you, dancing along your clit and down to your tense hole, yet the sensation didn’t feel pleasant. It all felt muted, like you weren’t really there. He grunted into your heat as his hands gripped your hips like he was afraid his meal would run off without him, and he continued to devour you like it was the only thing that brought him pleasure. 

As if suddenly regaining control of your body, your hips bucked forward with a whine in some sort of odd attempt at escape, only to be held down by the man shamelessly eating you out. A dark chuckle reverberated in the body behind you, rattling your spine with the sensation, and you felt a pair of lips press against your bare shoulder. The man between your legs paused his assault on your cunt in order to look up at you with a wet-faced grin. 

“Have a good nap, bonnie?” he teased. 

Panic attempted to rise into your chest, but there was some sort of emptiness that prevented it from fully manifesting. This was wrong, really wrong, you knew because of the tight feeling in your core and your breath hitching in your throat. You couldn’t fully recall how you got there, stuck between two men, but you knew that the haziness of your mind must have had something to do with it. 

“What…?” Once more your mouth tried to form words but they would leave your lips half finished. The hands wrapped around your center slowly wandered up to your tits where you felt yourself being squeezed at, which prompted you to further stutter. “I… don’t…” 

“Remember what I said?” the man behind you spoke up. That beautiful, dastardly man. “Soap and I are taking care of you, so just relax, yeah?” 

The man between your legs, Soap, pulled away from you and sat back on his haunches as he assessed you. His eyes were a pretty shade of blue, and had he not just violated your unconscious body, you might have considered him handsome. Instead, the sight of him made you close your eyes and twist your face away as if you couldn't stand the sight of him. You wanted to vanish, to turn into mist and drift away into the stale, sweaty air that threatened to suffocate you, and right when you thought you almost managed that feat, you were painfully brought back to reality when you felt two thick fingers force their way into your cunt. 

The stretch burned, your body not yet fully prepared for it, yet you had already gotten so slick with Soap’s spit that it didn’t matter, he was able to do it with ease anyway. Your legs strived to flail and squirm, yet you hardly had the energy or ability to do so, and failed miserably. Soap’s fingers danced around inside of you accompanied by a symphony of lewd squelches and a throaty laugh. 

“Nice and wet, she is,” Soap crooned. “What’dya say, Garrick? Wanna have a go at her?” 

Whatever his response was, you were unable to make it out, but you did feel him wiggle out from behind you. Every muscle in your body spasmed as you were lowered onto the mattress, and your eyes flickered open just in time to watch Soap slip off of the bed and for the other man — Garrick? — take his place. Warm hands gripped the exposed flesh of your thighs, and you felt yourself get yanked closer to him, and the sudden movement nearly made you puke. 

“Please- I-” you gasped, still incapable of expressing yourself. 

“What a sweet girl,” Garrick cooed while one of his hands reached up to undo the button and zipper on his pants. “Hear that, MacTavish? Hear her begging?” 

Dull pain blossomed at the base of your skull as you felt your head lift off the bed. Soap held you by your hair, insisting that you look down at yourself as Garrick’s cock sprung free from the confines of his jeans. It was impossible for your eyes to fully focus on anything, to make sense of it, but you were able to comprehend the sheer size of him, his length much too long to fit into you unprepared. You tried to turn away, to ignore it and pray it would all stop, but you couldn’t with Soap’s firm grip. 

“‘Course she is,” he chuckled, lips brushing against your ear. “Sweet and naughty always go hand in hand.” 

A small gasp escaped your lips as you felt the tip of Garrick’s cock press against your cunt, and you had no choice but to stare down at the vulgar scene between your legs. His hands slid along your hips until they were under your thighs, and he gently lifted your legs up, adjusting the angle of your hips. 

“Please, I don’t… think I want this,” you said with a cry. They were the first coherent words you were able to speak, and they were met with a laugh. 

“You don’t think so?” Soap teased. “A bit too late for that now, bonnie. GOt the man all worked up, and I don’t think he wants’ta stop.” 

When Garrick sunk himself into you, your cunt nearly choked him from how tight and unprepared you were, yet his brute force was enough to overcome your body’s resistance. Your mouth fell open in a silent sob, and your back arched off the bed as if that movement alone would save you. Instead of beginning his thrusts, Garrick stayed still, completely buried inside of you as he let out a hiss. 

“Christ, you’re so damn tight,” he cursed. 

Soap’s fingers suddenly slipped out of your hair, and without his strength supporting your head, it crashed back onto the mattress. A throb reverberated throughout your body, and the blood gushed in your ears so loudly you almost didn’t notice the sound of him undoing his belt next to your face. While Soap fished his own cock from his pants, Garrick gently rocked his hips forwards as if to test the waters and grind his fat tip against the rubbery surface of your cervix. 

“Open,” Soap urged.

Your brain didn’t comprehend his command, and so you continued to lay there as you attempted to hold back your groans. Deciding to assist you, Soap reached a hand for your jaw, turning your head towards him, and giving it a good squeeze until your mouth fell open. 

“There we are,” he chuckled as he tapped your lower lip with his tip. “Now, no biting, else I’ll bite back.” 

When Soap pushed his cock into your mouth, there was an emptiness that enveloped your mind. There was no more fuzz, no haze or confusion, just nothing, but it only lasted for a short moment before reality barreled back at you. Garrick thrust into you with what started as a lazy pace, but then quickly turned into something more demanding, more snapping. All the while, Soap’s cock pressed so far into your mouth and down your throat you coughed to keep yourself from choking. When you reached up to try and push him away, the man took it as a compliment instead, and rested his hand over yours where it laid against his hip. 

Their groans were undignifying. You wanted to wail, wanted to thrash around and get them to stop using you for their pleasure, but whatever drugs that had been slipped into your drink rendered your body completely useless except for fulfilling their desires. So you laid there, stoic and limp with your eyes closed as you took it. If you could just get through it, it would be over eventually. It had to be. 

A sharp pinch to your nipple had you nearly yelping, and you were certain you would have burst their eardrums with your sob had your mouth not been occupied. Garrick’s pace slowed only slightly as he adjusted your legs a little with a huff. 

“Well don’t go breaking her,” he grumbled. 

“Just tryna keep her awake,” Soap defended. “Besides…”

Once again his fingers came up to pinch your nipple, and it was impossible to hold back the tears welling in your eyes as you cried out once more. He grinned down at you as he used his thumb to wipe at the tears, almost as if he refused to acknowledge their existence. 

“She sounds so perfect squealing, especially with my cock in her mouth.” 

The pace at which Soap then abused your mouth was so brutal you completely lost the ability to breathe. Ignoring the tension in your throat, he pressed himself as far as he could go with so much force you were certain you would bruise. More tears continued to stream down your face as you held back the urge to puke, but eventually you were offered solace as he suddenly yanked himself out of your mouth. 

You coughed and sputtered on the build up of spit in your throat, and you powerlessly laid there with a burning neck and throat. Judging by his guttural groaning and the heavy throbbing of his cock, Soap had edged himself pretty bad, and you tried not to grimace at the sight of his reddened tip. Your mouth wasn’t able to rest for long, though, as you quickly found a few fingers pressed against your tongue, just as brutal and unforgiving as everything else he did to you. 

“Steamin’ jesus,” he groaned. He pulled his fingers out of your mouth where they dripped your spit along your bare chest. It left you feeling sticky and gross, and you whined as you felt those wet fingers begin to toy with your clit. “Good at everything, arent’cha bonnie?”

Panting like a bitch in heat, you felt a terrible pressure build up in your stomach. Between Garrick’s thrusts, which had only started to grow more ruthless, and Soap’s fingers rubbing annoyingly pleasurable circles against your abused cunt, you knew you were going to come undone. It was terribly unfortunate to know that you were going to give them that satisfaction, that your fucked out and drugged up brain would give into them so easily, and you found your face wrenching with a sob. 

“Oh fuck,” Garrick huffed as his hips stuttered. “K-Keep that up. Bloody hell, she’s so fuckin’ close I can feel it.” 

Soap didn’t let up at all, nor did he speed up either. It was like he knew how to push your buttons all too well, knew exactly what he needed to do in order to coax your orgasm out of you. You felt it build and build until it crashed so hard it stole your breath, searing you from the inside out. Garrick let out a wanton groan as your cunt fluttered around him, and he pounded into you more roughly than he had been until he suddenly held himself inside of you. 

He leaned his head back as he came and gave a few more lazy thrusts into your cunt. Your mind reeled at the realization that he came inside of you, and your thoughts buzzed as you knew there was no protection involved, that these sick fucks might get you pregnant. When he pulled out of you, your hands instinctively reached down between your legs as if scooping his cum out of you would save you from whatever fate they had written for you. 

“What’s wrong, not enough for you, doll?” Garrick chuckled as he slid off the bed. 

Your legs limply fell onto the bed without his hands there to hold them up, and your eyes fluttered shut as you bit into your bottom lip. You wouldn’t give them the satisfaction of seeing you broken, and you certainly wouldn’t give into their jests, either. Yet, as the mattress sunk in once more, you came to the painful realization that things were not over. 

A new pair of hands slipped underneath your knees, and your legs were pushed so close to your chest, you could nearly kiss them. Soap got a bit more intimate with you than Garrick had, and before his cock even brushed against your cum-soaked hole his lips were on yours, smothering out any protest. You could taste the pint he had at the bar earlier that night, along with the vague taste of your heat, and it only grew stronger when he slipped his tongue into your mouth, wet and nasty. 

When he finally pushed into you, he ate up your gasp as you quickly realized he was much girthier than Garrick was. The stretch was unfamiliar, and burned, yet there was virtually no friction; nothing to hold him back from bottoming out. He hummed into your mouth before pulling away and allowing you to take a proper breath, but even then you could still feel his grin against your lips. 

“I know you’re tired, so I’ll make it quick, bonnie. Promise,” he claimed. 

He said those words as if you should have thanked him for being so considerate, and yet it ignited a sort of anger inside of you that you were unable to feel before. The drugs they had given you must have started to wear off, because every emotion and sensation suddenly increased tenfold as he began to snap his hips against yours. Every ache burned like you were on fire, which only raged more as you reached up and pressed your hands against his chest as if you actually had a chance of pushing that broad monster off of you. 

“Now, now,” Garrick tsked, “be nice.” 

Kneeling next to the bed, the man grabbed your wrists and pulled them above your head, and you hated just how vulnerable it left you. As if you hadn’t been vulnerable that entire night. Those sick freaks certainly had planned it all out. Slipping a roofie into your drink during your conversation while your date was away, blaming it on your date, and taking you back to their place to have their way with you. You didn’t even want to think about how many other girls they had in that bed before you. 

“No, just- just stop,” you squirmed. 

“Soon, love,” Garrick cooed. “Soap’s getting close, I can tell. You know, he’s always been one for praise. I’m sure he’ll show you a little mercy if you say thank you.” 

As Soap’s face buried into your neck, you could feel his breath hit your skin, and you couldn’t help but grimace at the feeling. What the hell was he trying to recommend you do? Thank him? 

“No,” you replied, your tone biting. 

It wasn’t long after you defied him that a squeaky gasp left you as Garrick grabbed a hold of your jaw. His grip was not kind, nor was it relenting, and he turned your head to face him with a slight jerk. 

“I’m not asking, doll. You’re gonna say thank you. Thank you Johnny. Don’t make me tell you again,” he said with a tone you had yet to hear from him. Between the biting grip on your face and his threat, you couldn’t help but sob and give in, lest they do something worse. 

“T-Thank you, Johnny,” you mumbled. 

“Can’t hear you,” Garrick warned. 

“Thank you, Johnny!” you cried. 

Your second attempt was what finally did the man in. Though his thrusts continued at their same, brutish pace, he came long and loud with pathetic grunts in your ear. Garrick finally relinquished your face and hands, and you automatically held onto the man filling you with his cum as if you’d fall through the bed without him. Once Soap — or were you really supposed to call him Johnny? — gave you the last of his spend, he planted a quick kiss against your cheek before rolling off of you, pulling himself out of you in the process. 

“Christ, Kyle. Wasn’t sure you knew how to pick ‘em but goddamn… should keep her around, aye?” Johnny chuckled as he fastened his pants. 

Aching, sore, and exhausted, you rolled onto your side as you watched the two men straighten out their clothes. A quick glance at the floor around you revealed yours weren’t to be found, and you couldn’t remember just when they had ripped them off of you. A terrible pounding ravaged your head, and all you wanted to do was sleep. 

“I wanna go home,” you spoke up, voice small. 

Kyle, grinned as he ran a hand over your hair. “This is home, doll. Rest up, yeah? Gotta save up your energy for tomorrow.” 

His words had wiped all sense from your mind, and you weren’t able to come up with a response as he rose from the floor and turned his back towards you. Tomorrow? No, no they couldn’t keep you here, locked up like some animal, some fucking toy to play with whenever they wanted. And yet still, all you could do was lay there as you watched them saunter out of the room, completely fulfilled as you laid empty and broken in that bed. 

The door closed and locked behind them with a simple click, and that’s when you finally allowed your tears to flow freely. Keeping quiet, you slapped a hand over your mouth to muffle the pathetic sounds as best as you could, refusing to let them hear just the effect they had on you. That night, you had nothing to lull you to sleep except for the sounds of whatever video game they had started up in the living room, and their joyous laughter as they continued on with their lives with no concern for their new toy.

#kyle garrick x reader #gaz x reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader #soap x reader #john mactavish x reader #john soap mactavish x reader #kyle garrick smut #gaz smut #soap smut #john mactavish smut #cod smut #cw: noncon #dark fic #f!reader

[etdanger]

AHHHH omg pls tell me u see the vision with corrupt cop mingyu and neighbor nice girl who’s super sweet !! she’s innocent but not stupid and mingyu likes that but she just pays him no mind

CW: NONCON, DRUGGING AND SOMNOPHILIA.

first, this 98% background story and 2% smut, literally, more of mingyu just being fucking sick in the head than anything but i really liked writing this so, and second, kinda fuck the police i guess-

the hot, older, seemingly normal cop next door that gets interested in you since the day he knocked on your door to introduce himself and offer you his number because “you’re so young… and alone too, it can be dangerous around here” clearly flirting and you simply nodded, gave him the biggest smile, a “thank you” and closed the door on his face.

you’re so sweet and nice and clearly such a good girl, so pretty too, he does everything to try and get your attention and yet nothing but smiles and few conversations from you. but he knows you’re not stupid and thinks you’re playing hard to get, convinces himself you looked at him differently once, and that just drive drives him further into his obsession with you and that’s where his not so normal side comes out.

listen, i don’t think he will ever admit out loud that he’s stalking you but that definitely what he does. he is a cop and that comes with certain benefits, he’s just using those to get closer to you. totally the type to find out where you work and ask his superiors to have his route reallocated to the area so he can spend all his day looking out for you. discovers your favorite cafe close by and starts casually ordering there too, acting all surprised when he hears your voice calling him, starts offering to take you to places and is quickly to brush it off when you say you can’t disturb his job, claiming it’s a “slow day, nothing really happening”.

you get what i’m saying here? he’s the type to use his job as a way to slowly insert himself into your life, your personal space, and it totally escalates to more extreme things. i can see him starting to find ways to scary you, to make you need him and his help, sending you creepy texts from random numbers through the day, pictures of yourself, even finding ways to break into your house in the middle of the night, making noises to wake you up or leaving things for you to find. his chest gets filled with such a sick satisfaction when you finally call him one night in tears and whispering, asking for help because there’s someone in your house and of course he is there in a minute, gun in hand and everything. so nice he is, taking your shaking body in his arms and reassuring you you’re safe, he won’t let anything happen to you. and of course, of course he asks you if you want to sleep in his house that night, or how many nights you want obviously, if that would make you feel safe, kissing your forehead so gently when you look up with teary eyes and nods.

he wraps you in a blanket, makes you tea, insists you take his bed, he won’t mind sleeping in the couch. listens carefully to everything you have to say about the things that are happening and wipes your tears when you cry, reads the texts you received as if he wasn’t the one who wrote every single one, looks at the pictures… promising he will make everything on his reach to find out whoever this person is, you can trust him.

and honestly i don’t care that this is too cliche or whatever, he would put something on your tea. like, i think that at this point he would be so desperate to have you, he doesn’t care anymore, just the sound of you crying and saying you needed his help, feeling your shaky form against his body, all of that was enough to make him hard, to think he wouldn’t try to touch you would be nonsense. so yes, he does puts something on your tea, enough to not have you opening your pretty eyes for hours, and stands for a few moments at the bedroom door watching you sleep, loving smile on his lips seeing you so relaxed in his bed, cuddling one of his pillows.

walks closer, as if you could wake at any giving moment, and sits by your side, brushing hair out of your face, leaning down to kiss your cheek and corner of your lips, breathing into your smell… he’s such a creep, for christ’s sake. runs a hand up and down your arm while the other palms his cock through his sweatpants, quick to pull your top up to get a good view of your tits, not holding back on grabbing one, yes, he should be careful, not leave marks, but he waited for so long for this, jerked off under the shower so many times thinking about you… speaking of jerking off, starts pumping himself by instinct, too lost on feeling your body. would try to resist but end up parting your legs and licking his fingers to toy with your pussy, groaning a bit too loud upon feeling your little clit and how tight you are, not properly wet, barely taking the tip of his index finger— but it’s okay, he will have time to make you wet for him in the future and fuck you nicely. spills all over his hand between groans and whispering things such as “you’re going to be mine, uhm? you’re meant to be” and “going to make you my pretty little wife, come home every day to you waiting for me here”

sigh… totally normal man who just wants a little wife.

#asks #seventeen smut #mingyu smut #mingyu x reader #seventeen x reader #kim mingyu smut #cw: noncon #cw: drugging #cw: somnophilia

[mirangel]

Yahoo~ if your request is closed please ignore this, i like your writing a lot＼⁠(⁠°⁠o⁠°⁠)⁠／ , can you write smut Where M!reader stuck in the wall (like between walls, ass out) and sampo coincidentally walks across the reader and it's feels like his dream come true, he immediately took this chance and fucks the outta of reader.if you want, makes sampo manages to convince Gepard to come along, maybe noncon and breeding? Thank you!

stuck in a wall with sampo and gepard !

cw: noncon, stuck in the wall, anal fingering, anal sex, voyeurism, m!reader

written by a minor, dni if uncomfortable

you have absolutely no idea how long sampo has been waiting for this moment to occur. ever since he saw that broken wall in belobog, of course he had to hint that there’s a suspicious deal there, and of course your sense of justice prevented you from ignoring it, you had to investigate. unfortunately for you, you got stuck in the wall that sampo told you that you needed to bypass in order to intercept the deal.

of course, he was right around the corner waiting for you, and he crosses over, feigning shock at the sight of your ass greeting him. “my! what happened to you?” unbeknownst to you, he wears a grin of the schemer he is. of course, you can’t help but demand to be freed, that he set you up. “of course i can help, but for a price.”

he tugs down your pants, just enough for your ass to show. “i know what i’m doing, treasure. let me do my thing.” sampo tries to reassure, and you felt cold liquid flowing between your ass cheeks. he fingers your ass with his pointer and middle finger, ignoring your pleas for mercy and honing on your moans instead, his grin growing wider with each adorable reaction you make.

“what the— sampo koski?!” another voice rang, this time of surprise and embarrassment. “captain!” sampo cheers, “just in time to see my little present for you. i know how much you adore him after all.” but gepard backs away, reluctant to accept this “present” when he of all people should have morals.

“if you don’t want to accept, you can watch of course.” gepard lets out a sigh, and you hear footsteps coming closer before his clothes shift, leaning against the wall. sampo wastes no time to fuck you, coaxing loud moans to erupt from you while he makes direct eye contact with gepard the entire time.

gepard can’t stop thinking about how he would treat you better than sampo would, how he’d lower your pants all the way, jerking off your cock while he fucks you gentle and slowly, unlike sampo’s rough and fast speed. his pants tighten with arousal, but he refuses to move from the wall, his eyes trained on how your ass jiggles when sampo’s hips collide with you, his face reddening at how well sampo’s cock stretches you out.

maybe he should’ve accepted sampo’s little gift.

SORRY IF I DIDNT COOK AS HARD HERE. my mind has been all over the place it’s insane

#⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☁︎ starry scribe ✧ #⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☁︎ moonlight mirage ✧ #⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☁︎ fading fantasy ✧ #sampo x reader smut #sampo x you #sampo smut #sampo x reader #sampo koski smut #hsr smut #honkai star rail smut #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail x you #hsr x male reader #gepard smut #gepard x reader #gepard x you #gepard x y/n #gepard x male reader #tw: noncon #cw: noncon

[kechiwrites]

property lines

dark!steve rogers x neighbour!reader

kinktober countdown: day two (facefucking).

synopsis: your neighbour is inappropriate, and you aren’t quite sure how to broach the subject.

wc: 2.2k

cw: dark content, non con, oral (male receiving), femme language + afab!reader, pet names, internal victim blaming, pet names (sweetheart), a touch of misogyny

author’s note: day 2 brings us more dark!steve, i fear i may be incapable of writing him sincerely. he’s just a little too perfect. I like to take off a bit of the shine. thank you @katsukikitten u r my muse.

Your neighbour is inappropriate, and you aren’t quite sure how to broach the subject. Mostly because you can’t be sure if he’s doing it on purpose or if he’s just overly friendly. Maybe it’s the signals you give off, bringing a plate of thick, sweet, cheesecake brownies over to the recently sold house next door, hoping to make a new connection. Suburbia can be isolating, and with all of your friends shaking ass in the city, you need to branch out. It really isn’t the kind of home you figured a single man like Steven Grant Rogers would buy, but then again, you lived in your suburban palace alone, willed to you by your late grandmother and only in need of a few renovations.

He’d been so bright, when you first met him, with a perfect white smile and twinkling blue eyes. He’d been happy to accept the desserts, even happier to return the plate a day later, extolling the praise he and his poker buddies lauded on you over the taste. You’d shrugged it off, “The least I could do for a neighbour. I’m just glad you all liked them.” 

Secretly though, the compliments had thrilled you, especially once you’d gotten a glimpse at the aforementioned “poker buddies”, the whole lot of them, handsome, built, big. All too happy to fix leaky pipes and paint fences in exchange for chocolate cream pie or a dish of homemade lasagna. But Steven  - “Steve, please”  -  was your most loyal customer, always lending a hand, pausing during his early morning jog to check up on you while you watered your flower beds, asking how your book is going, what you do in that “big old house all by yourself” when you aren’t working on “the next great American novel”, of course (his words, not yours).

It’s fine at first, a little disarming to be at the centre of his white hot attention, burning your flesh like he had you under a magnifying glass on a perfect sunny day. But eventually it’s not fine, eventually Steve Rogers takes more and more steps over the property line of overly friendly and into the front yard of wildly overbearing. Eventually, Mr. Rogers insists on weekly visits, popping into your house by using the spare key under the mat he shouldn’t even know about. Slinging his muscled arm over you during the neighbourhood block party, and your neighbour’s son’s 5th birthday party, and the Fourth of July barbeque. He fixes your car without you asking, brings in your groceries when he sees you unloading them in your driveway, brings your mail to you during his daily jog. It’s helpful sometimes, yes, but it’s also suffocating. And you were going to set him straight. You were! But it’s hard, hard to stare into the face of a suburban god, the literal king of the neighbourhood and tell him no. It’s hard to tell him that he’s making you uncomfortable, that you’d like for him to stop being so goddamn friendly all the time. 

So maybe a little of it is your fault. Maybe you should’ve been clearer on your boundaries. Maybe, when handsome, strapping Mr. Rogers came to your front door to ask you to essentially cater one of his poker nights, you shouldn’t have stayed to serve the food, playing happy little housewife in front of Steve’s friends, bringing them cold beers from the fridge and sitting next to Steve, playfully making faces at his hand, then plating up dessert when he asked you to. But it felt good to have his attention. His favour. So when “the boys” start to head home, laying praise and amazement at your feet, you’re sufficiently buttered up for Steve to ask yet another favour of you. It’s not much, of course. Just a little help with cleanup. Then he’ll escort you home himself. After all, there are some real sickos out there.

So you agree. What’s the harm, right?

The harm, it just so happens, comes quickly after you finish drying the dishes Steve washes. You slide the last plate, towel dried as best you could, into his cabinets, sighing in contentment at a job well done. The harm is when Steve turns you around and presses you against the sink, water soaking into the back of your blouse, making the fabric cling to your skin. You stay there for a minute, not processing what’s happening, ready to laugh off another inappropriate joke from Steve. 

You don’t really get the chance.

Two heavy hands clap down on your shoulders, exerting pressure on you until you crumple to the floor, knees hitting the tile of Steve's kitchen painfully. You yelp, struggling against him, pressing, then beating your fist against his tree trunk legs. 

"Stev-" you choke on his name when your neighbour unzips his trousers before you, undoes the fly of the pair you helped him pick out, with him bent over your shoulder while you held his phone, his front pressed close to your back. Pulls his half hard dick out of pants starched and pressed with the iron he'd borrowed from you because his was "on the fritz" again. 

"Open up." He cajoles, and you pin him with an incredulous, confused stare. No. No. This is all wrong. He doesn’t act like that. Steve Rogers isn’t like that.

The hand he doesn't use to stroke himself grabs your jaw, squeezing until you open your mouth, squeezing til it hurts. A sharp, purposeful punch of his hips is all it takes for him to make use of the opening. All it takes to put every little joke, boundary crossing, and stray touch into startling, horrifying perspective.

“It was the baking.” He whispers above you. “Peggy never baked, which was fine.” He sighs above you like he isn’t pistoning his cock deep into your throat with reckless abandon. “But I missed it, y’know? And you, you bake how angels ought to, sweetheart.” 

Tears stream down your face while Steve uses you, dragging your dazed, crying face back and forth on his hard-on. On a particularly strong thrust, he broaches your throat. Your eyes roll up, until he can barely see the perimeter of your irises, and you warble out a miserable moan, begging, all while wrapped around his dick, for a reprieve. Your head is pinned to the counter behind you, and even though you shove against the muscle of his thighs, Steve brooks no quarter.

“Just take it,” he coos, like he wants you to swallow cough syrup, “it’ll be over soon.” his breath stutters when your lips brush against his balls. Steve moves one of his hands to cup the back of your head, keeping you as close as possible when he comes down your throat, groaning in pleasure while you struggle to swallow stream after bitter stream of his seed, lest you choke on it or fucking drown. 

He finally releases you, and you pull back so fast you bang the back of your head on his pristine white counters. The pain radiates through your scalp, grounding you in the moment, cementing you to the spotless linoleum floor of Steve Rogers’ kitchen. You’re both panting, eager to fill your lungs with gulps of air. 

“Whew.” He sighs, hands on his hips, like that took a lot out of him. “I didn’t mean to get so rough with you, just didn’t expect the struggle.” He chuckles, patting you on the head. “But you settled down quick, didn’t ya?” His tone takes on…contentment? Happiness? 

No. That’s not quite right. 

It’s pride. Steve is looking down at you, your spit and cum slick mouth, the weepy, watery state of your eyes, and the disarray of the hair he’d used as a handle, with pride.

Your stomach roils.

He bends low and you flinch away from him, smacking your head on the countertop again. He cocks his head at the involuntary movement, and smiles at you. A familiar, warm thing. One that made your heart flutter with pleasure, beat fast with your own surge of pride when he accepted a pie, or offered a compliment. Now it does the same, your heart speeds up, your palms itch curiously, and your brain doesn’t know if you’re happy or sad. Doesn’t know if it craves those smiles anymore. 

“Just wanna set you on your feet. C’mon.” He speaks quietly, like he’s soothing a frightened animal, and hooks his hand under your armpits, heaving you up with the same startling strength he'd used to face fuck the fight out of you.

“It’s okay.” You bleat, voice as wobbly and unstable as the pair of legs struggling to keep you upright. And it’s not, it’s far from okay, the taste of him lingers in the back of your throat and if you think about it for even a second more you’ll throw up all over his shiny floors, on those godforsaken pants.

“I admit,” he laughs, ducks his head with that small town charm he does so well, “I wanted to last longer. But you were too good.” He winks at you, like you share a secret. Like you’re in league with each other.

He staring, waiting for you to say something, arches a brow like it’s your line and you’re fucking up the show.

But there it is again, that smile, sunny and open, and so pristine.

“Let’s get you home.” He herds you towards his front door, hand glued to the small of your back, his pinky finger stroking the skin exposed by the riding up of your still wet shirt. The two of you walk into the balmy summer air, and the spaces in between the black night, punctuated with the occasional white streetlight, designate your path home. Some of your neighbours’ houses are still illuminated, their warm yellow windows denoting the presence of life. You wonder what goes on behind their doors, you wonder if someone is having a good night somewhere close to you.

You come across your door faster than you were prepared for, the cheery yellow paint job Steve and James had done for caramel apple pie, mocks you. The way he’d smiled in your face, touched you, laughed. Steve shifts next to you, holding onto your extensive tower of pyrex and tupperware, for an instant your blood runs cold at the prospect of Steve inviting himself in, like he’s done so many times before. Not to bring in groceries or put together a dresser, but to pin you prone to the carpet of your bedroom and smile at you.

“So!” He turns, “Same time next week?” You gawk at him, and when you don’t say or do anything, he stoops and slides your extra keys out from under your Garfield emblazoned doormat. The jingle of two, simple metal keys against the little bell shaped key-chain makes your head pound, your blood boil. He unlocks the door, and gestures for you to take a step indoors. You raise both hands, palms upturned so he can give the keys back, so you can hide them, or melt them, or flush them down the toilet. Instead, you get to watch him slip the key-ring into his pocket, before he places your dishes into your uplifted open palms. “I gotta say, the lemon bars were a hit.” He tweaks your nose between his thumb and forefinger, his compliment tempered by the greedy shine in his eyes. You nearly scratch your own eyes out when you get that pleased, soft tingle in your chest.

He smiles and you salivate. He compliments you and your heart responds. He’s proud and your brain tells you ‘I’m happy’.

Why hasn’t it gone away? Will it ever go away?

“Maybe those brownies again, the cream cheese ones?” His voice is hopeful, soft and pliant, like he’s worried you’ll say ‘no’.

Like there’s a world where he’d take no for an answer.

You nod, a jerky, quick gesture that rattles your brain around in your skull. “Sure. Yeah.” You answer, sweaty hands slipping against tempered glass and plastic lids. “Yes. Brownies.” Steve beams, clapping his hands together, once, loud, drawing your eyes to the brutish width of them.

“Fantastic. I can’t wait.” He jogs down your front steps, and the fist secured around your lungs loosens with every step he takes away from you. He pauses at the side walk, one foot still on your property, the other poised to leave it.

“We make a great team. Don’t we?” He turns to you, and this time, he isn’t smiling. This time, his eyes cut through the night and the streetlight and the foggy haze of misfortune clouding your brain.

And the fear finally comes.

You kick your door closed, and you lock your door, and you drop your pyrex and tupperwear and serving spoons in the sink and you lock your windows and you get into bed, still dressed for a poker night you had no business being at, and you pull the covers up and up and over your face.

But the fear doesn’t go away.

And neither will your neighbour.

god i want him so bad. tomorrow, captain soap.

find the rest of the masterlist here.

support city girls who bought $50 of baked cheesecake today, reblog what you like.

#steve rogers x reader #dark!steve rogers #dark!steve smut #dark!steve x reader #dark steve x reader #dark steve rogers #dark!captain america #dark!fic #mcu smut #mcu x reader #slasher!au #stalker!steve rogers #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers x you #kechiwriteskinktober #kechiwrites #cw: dark content #cw: noncon #kinktober 2023 #captain america x reader #chris evans characters #steve rogers x black!reader #captain america x black!reader #steve rogers x black reader

[tired-biscuit]

18+ mdni, fem!reader // cw: somnophilia, non-con, incubus!bakugou, slightly angsty

there is an incubus inside your home.

he is a male, yes, but not the kind you’ve ever encountered before. he may look human at first glance, with his ash blonde hair, lopsided smile and smooth, creamy skin that even possesses the ability to turn pink at the cheekbones, but he is far from it. 

and every single night when sleep overtakes you, he proves it by finding his way back inside; slipping right past your locked front door without any sort of key whatsoever. 

he is quiet as he does it, mindful not to wake you. curious but still warily observant of his surroundings. he walks from room to room as silent as the grave he’ll never be put into, and touches your belongings like they are his own despite that he doesn’t have any. 

he picks up your framed pictures and stares at them for so long that he can now vividly distinguish the resemblance you share with your mother and father. holds your clothes and brings them closer to his nose until his lungs are full to the brim with your sweet scent and his throat feels like it's coated with honey. takes the spoon you’ve used to eat ice cream with a mere hour ago, and pretends that he can still taste the remnants of your spit as he puts it into his own mouth.

all of it is done as a means to learn more about your kind. about you. even if he already knows about what – to him – should be the most important part there is to learn about you. 

even then.

after all, he has been here before; countless of times, actually. he already knows how you sometimes whimper in your sleep and unconsciously snuggle closer to the warmth he provides when you should be running far away from it, as far as your feet can carry you. knows that your body begins to sweat if you’re too close to him for too long; making him undress you completely as a result, his fingers nimble at undoing the buttons of your pyjama shirt just so you can stand a chance at beating the heat that otherwise sizzles on his skin. knows that you preen at his touch, even if you can’t comprehend it in your sleeping state.

and he also knows how your heart beats faster as he undresses himself and proceeds to ravage you, then; that it hammers so quick, quick, quick, even if you can’t possibly know that he does it. knows that you tend to clench around his fingers first, and then around his cock when he sinks it particularly deep inside of you, repeatedly nudging that gooey, special spot that would have made you fucking scream otherwise, if he had just kept the power that keeps you dormant and unconscious sealed within him.

but instead of a scream of passion and the frantic scratching of your nails against his back, nothing but his breathless grunts and the lewd squelching noises resonate throughout the room. just like they always do.

you continue to sleep like so many before you, and he continues to feel lonely even if he’s not alone. the thin silvery strings of your release cling to him when he draws his hips back; not because you want them to, but because it is your body’s instinct to do so.

and as the sky turns even darker than it was before, the pale moonlight seeping inside your bedroom and making the shadows dance all over your walls, he continues to lay right there beside you; stroking and exploring your body with his too-hot palms, with his near-scorching mouth. branding your body with markings that will disappear at the break of dawn just like he will. every single time.

because just like with the markings, you have no clue that he was there either; you can’t possibly know. after all, the bewitching demon with the eyes in the shade of rich blood makes sure of it by covering his tracks exceptionally well. makes sure to not leave a single trace behind, despite tracing your stomach and sides with his calloused fingers all the time.

no, as far as you’re concerned, you just wake up tired every morning.

however, it’s a different kind of tiredness, you can’t possibly describe it with words and give it enough justice. no, this one is deeper; it reaches as deep as where the marrow of your bones lies. it is harsher than the one you sometimes experience after a particularly long shift at work, and it is immensely more profound than the kind that strikes you after you’ve socialized with people too much. stronger than the temporary remnants of fatigue a seasonal illness sometimes leaves you with, and the bored mental weariness a mundane routine may bring.

and to be honest, it is worrisome. every day, it feels like your very essence has been drained out of you just a little more, but your rational thinking and human eyes – blind to everything that can be considered unfathomable and otherworldly – never manage to make the connection. of course they don't. you just think that you’ve caught a cold.

and katsuki, that is his name, sees the change but he doesn’t stop. he can’t stop, even if he wants to. it is in his nature to be greedy when something perfect comes along the way, greedier than most of his kind tend to be. so despite being a creature of the night, he not only continues to disturb your peace during the late hours, but also starts to follow you around in broad daylight as well. 

he’s been completely lust-struck by you, so he’s everywhere. strictly invisible, but still everywhere – quite literally. he follows you to your lessons, joins you when you go out to meet up with your friends. he stands in line with you when you go to pick up your order at the local cafe that’s always way too busy for his liking, but which you prefer nonetheless, and sits in the empty chair next to you at the too-warm laundromat as you wait for the washing machine to beep. 

he lingers nearby as you read your silly little books in the library instead of studying for your exams. keeps you out of harm’s way even though you don’t even suspect the harm is there. lounges right by your side, with his arm draped over the backrest of your couch when you stay at home and feel bad about watching a romance film completely alone – oh, the irony. 

he watches you eat. shower. sleep.

every step of the way, he’s there. this new, somewhat possessive infatuation he’s grown for you turns him incapable of leaving you. you’re just so soft, kind, caring, warm, giving – human. you feed him so well. make him feel human to some extent, too. and with each passing day – not night, heavens no – he starts to care.

and yes, his blood runs hot through his heart, sure, but it’s nothing compared to yours. he’s an ancient creature; has been around for several millennia and has grown dull and cold on the inside over that time, but you’re the first one who can make him feel something other than the lust he needs to survive, as well as who can spark a wildfire within him of a different kind.

somehow, without him ever realizing it, you’ve become his powerhouse, his only one. he repeatedly feasts on you because of it – almost swallows you whole every other night just to feel that raw force of your heart course his veins again, and again, and again. until he becomes soft, and kind, and caring, and warm, and giving, too. until he becomes you.

and for fuck’s sake, it’s not right; he knows that all too well, too. you grow weaker by the day, and he’s aware of the fact that taking so much from you is dangerous, but what can he do? katsuki had never been a righteous man. had never even been a man at all. but he wants to be one now. he craves it so desperately; even enough to hurt you along the way if that is what it takes.

so the devil himself walks with you side by side. every day, every night.

if only he could show himself to you and hold your hand as a sign of solace.

#cw: somnophilia #cw: noncon #bakugo smut #bakugo x reader #katsuki bakugou #bakugou smut #bakugou x reader #bnha smut #mha smut #biscuit drabbles

[delinquunt]

go back to sleep, bro. i didn't finish yet.

#broposting #cw: noncon

[cherubify]

AFTER DARK / LEON KENNEDY

6.6k words

cw: stepsister! reader, re4r cop leon, pseudo-incest, noncon, dubcon, soft somnophilia, sleep paralysis, fingering, unprotected p-in-v, cunnilingus, choking, slight breeding, super slight anal, dumbification, shower scene, virginity, dead dove do not eat / minors dni

a/n: reqqy by lovely @xoxostarlet <3 tysm!! hope it lives up to ur expectations teehee.. also first time writing some of the content pls show mercy ack.. leon's rlly delulu here n he thinks he knows the solulu (he doesn't). thx for reading!!

After what happened to your father, mother would always warn you about the dangers that lurked in the shadows after dark. It was an archaic but relevant truth that girls shouldn’t be out and about once the sun set, as wolves prowled the streets for any unsuspecting sheep they could sink their fangs into. Especially for blossoming young ladies, who shone the brightest in the night, like stars in a lonely sky. So you took it upon yourself to return home before dinner, when the sun still hung high in the sky and you could see your feet in front of you. While your college mates partied till the crack of dawn, you took pride in returning home for a warm meal with your mother before sunset.

However, your efforts were for naught. All because your mother never told you about the dangers in your own home after dark.

Your sleeping issues began when your mother remarried. Two strangers moved into your childhood home one day, turning it from a quiet home into a rowdier one. Your stepfather, whose name was always on the tip of your tongue, had a son older than you. Leon– a name befitting the pride he carried and his commanding presence. He served in the Raccoon City Police Department, and beneath his police cap was a head of dirty blonde hair and a pair of strikingly cold blue eyes, like he had seen it all. A man in his late twenties, he possessed a slow temper and a mild demeanour. Though he had a bit of a mouth on him, especially when he missed breakfast.

Another thing you learnt about your br- stepbrother, was that he was quite a background character. Slipped in and out of the house without so much of a peep and returned when it was way past midnight. It was no wonder he had eyebags, you thought, since he crawled into bed at one or two. The two of you barely exchanged greetings, but it was always you who reached out first with a demure ‘good morning’ or ‘good night’ when you bumped into him in the hallways. Even then he’d barely grunt in acknowledgement.

It must have been awkward for him to have a little sister at this age, you often pondered. The feeling was mutual; you had never felt this awkward in your own home before. Your new family members were more like legal housemates, dozens of signed papers changed little about the fact that none of you were related by blood. This fact left an unpleasant taste in your mouth. However, your worries turned out to be for naught as your stepfather was deeply enamoured with your mother to look your way. And for your stepbrother… It was clear that he was avoiding you at all costs.

Things started to look up after an awkward encounter in the kitchen. That day you camped inside, determined to get your work done. Along with a heap of textbooks and research papers, you had a plate of sandwiches on the table. Your eyes fell on your paper and you tapped it with your pencil. You found yourself wondering about your relationship with your new sibling. Mama would be happy if you got along with him, but even she was having a hard time getting him to open up.

You prodded at the tiny fonts on the papers. Leon was almost a decade older… and really attractive. Totally your type, if only you weren’t bound by the same family name. You held your head in your hands and groaned outwardly. Oh boy, you were sure to be punished for your sinful thoughts. Like it or not, you were a Kennedy now. And that meant no room for entertaining nonsensical daydreams.

“I’m home,” a voice called out. Speak of the devil. You looked up as he shuffled into the kitchen, a single gloved hand making quick work of loosening his tie. His sky blue uniform hugged his wide chest whilst his sleeves clung desperately to his broad shoulders. Meanwhile his slacks… let’s just say his imprint could tempt even the most modest of church goers. The golden badge pinned at his breast glinted in as he sauntered past you.

The cop took you in from his peripheral. You sat cross legged on a chair in an oversized shirt, the hem of the baggy tee draped over your mid thighs. He narrowed his eyes. Where were your shorts? But he brushed away that thought when you cleared your throat.

You held out a sandwich, eyes struggling to meet his. In this moment you resembled a petrified hamster. “Um, welcome home. Want one?”

When he kept his silence, you showed him the insides between the slices of bread. “It’s just ham and cheese. You’re not allergic, are you?”

The blonde stared at you incredulously. What was with the nauseating domesticity of the situation? Leon exhaled a breath. He had half the mind to leave but your hopeful eyes demanded a response. Why were you so desperate to talk to him? He already felt bad for ignoring you during your random encounters, but now that you gave him no choice…

He raised his brows. You should be feeling as awkward as he was, if not more. He was a complete stranger who started legally living next door with only a thin wall to separate the two of you at night. But he forced a half-smile as he took your peace offering.

“Thanks,” he took a bite while you watched attentively. He held your gaze for an entire second before you shyly lowered your head. Were you expecting a compliment or something? Maybe you were more interesting than he’d thought.

Amused, he walked out of the kitchen whilst you watched owlishly. His footsteps thudded up the stairs and you exhaled a breath you didn’t know you were holding. You smiled to yourself, slumping in your seat. That went well. With your spirits boosted, you continued studying.

For your brother, he had a hard time coming to terms with his father’s remarriage. It had been years since the death of his mother, and he figured he’d more or less come to terms with her departure. As a child, he had long known his father would remarry, and now the time had finally come. However, now that he was an adult, he questioned his father’s decisions to remarry. Why now? He wished he knew. It would’ve been easier on Leon if his new siblings were little kids, in fact he expected it until he was faced with the reality of your existence.

You were pretty, really pretty and cute and all lovely things. Like an angelic cherub, a gift from the heavens that deserved nothing but love and joy. Unlike a brother like him, who often imagined what it’d be like to feel your lips against his. A brother that imagined what your touch felt, and if you’d be so kind to let him explore your body with wandering hands and an eager tongue.

He was sure to burn in the lake of fire for this. He acknowledged that but failed to curb his fantasies that he’d always circle back to whenever he caught a whiff of your shampoo in the hallways when you passed him. Or the lingering scent of your skincare in the bathroom when he returned home from work. And the faint humming he heard from his window in the mornings.

Maybe if he’d have a taste. Just once– maybe he could finally detach himself from you. Better yet, move out and you’d never have to see him again. (He never wanted to live with his old man and new family to begin with after all.) But he knew it was all a pipe dream; you’d never let him push his luck. Not when you were so clueless in his presence, wearing only oversized shirts and panties, as if he couldn’t catch a glimpse whenever you reached for a cup in the cupboards or when you pranced up the stairs. It was worrisome. Did you not see him as a man? Was he really just a brother figure to you? He was relieved but conflicted. If only you were much younger, then he wouldn't have to waste braincells foaming over this predicament.

A knock on his door yanked him out of his thoughts. He lifted his brows. There was only one person who bothered to knock in this household. The door creaked open to reveal you, standing at the doorway. In your hand was a plate with sandwiches piled onto one another, much like the one on the kitchen table. You scratched your ankle with a foot awkwardly.

“Erm,” you started. A sheepish grin settled on your face. “Peace offering?”

He managed a chuckle and prompted you into the room. You set the plate on the table as he patted your head fondly. You peered up at him with one eye as he mussed up your hair.

“There’s no beef between us, silly.” He smiled gently. You swallowed nervously and smiled back. Then you left as quickly as you came, a metaphorical tail between your legs as you hurriedly closed the door behind you.

Yup, he had to be mature. A mature older brother figure. He mused to himself as he sat on his bed, a sandwich in hand.

. . .

Overtime, your sleeping habits worsened. Despite your growing relationship with Leon, there was no improvement in your sleeping patterns. You still came home early and followed through with your usual bedtime routine. Nothing was amiss, but you still struggled to sleep properly.

Perhaps it had to do with how you constantly awoke at the sound of Leon’s boots thudding on the stairs. At the creaking of his door and the hushed volume he spoke in when he bumped into your parents in the hallway. Your heart always thumped at the thought of the blonde being one wall away from you. Months had passed and it was still awkward. A man was on the other side of a single wall. So you took matters into your own hands.

“Sleeping pills? What for?” Your mother peered at you curiously. Everyone, including your step family, sat in the living room watching the telly. Remote in hand, she was searching for a show when she stopped on a psychologist’s podcast.

Something about incestual relationships and how it was connected to trauma. Something something a cycle of brokenness. She switched it to a sports commentary instead.

“Um, recent stuff has disrupted my sleep a little.” It wasn’t a little and it wasn’t that recent, but you weren’t exactly lying. “I’ve tried candles and white noise, but it doesn’t help. So I was wondering if you could get me some.”

Your mother worked at a pharmacy, so it should have been easy enough. She scratched the bottom of her chin and scrunched her brows thoughtfully. Uh oh. You sighed knowingly as she shook her head.

“Pills should be a last resort. Try meditation, maybe.”

She returned her attention to the screen, and you shook your head in disappointment. As you begrudgingly scaled up the stairs, you were stopped by your step brother. He stood at the base of the stairs as he called out to you.

“Hey. I overheard about your sleeping problems. I have some extra pills I can share if you’d like.” He leaned against the railing, arms crossed.

His eyes were focused on yours, but when you hopped down the stairs, they shifted to the bouncing of your chest. You smiled as you stood at eye level with him, unknowing of this as you placed your arms behind your back.

“Really? That’ll be great help,” your relief was palpable in your tone. But then you raised a single eyebrow, “Um- but you’re not gonna tell mom, are you?”

He chuckled, “No way. It’s our little secret.”

You giggled and followed him into his room, where he passed you a little bottle, half full of pills. What you didn’t know was just how strong they were.

You clutched your comforter in your hand and swallowed nervously. The eye bags around your eyes had gotten worse lately, but not to worry. You glanced at the bottle on your bedside table. With these, everything would be fine. Right? Besides, it was comforting to know that somebody cared enough to help. And now your step brother was in on the secret with you.

As your lashes fluttered close, your bedroom door creaked open painfully slow. A pair of blue eyes watched you curiously as your consciousness faded.

Leon knew he was the worst. Knew he shouldn’t be here in his little sister’s room, shouldn’t be kneeling over her body, arms caging her unconscious body on either side. The mattress dipped further into the bedframe no thanks to his added weight. Under other circumstances, you would have awoken from the gentle bouncing if you weren’t so deep in sleep.

The tips of his silky blonde hair brushed against your cheeks as he hovered over your lips. Your chest rose slowly as you exhaled through slightly parted lips, tickling his face as he pressed a thumb on your bottom lip to part them further. You exhaled softly. Pretty. So soft and pink. His padded thumb stroked your lips as his mind wandered.

How oblivious could you be in your sleep? How much could he push?

As he ruminated over his options, you shifted in your sleep with a low groan. You murmured incoherently with a grip on your comforter. With a huff, you tried to pull it over your chest. When it refused to budge– thanks to the weight of his body– you groaned and pulled harder. As quietly as possible, he hopped off your bed and you yanked the comforter over you. A contented sigh of relief followed as you snuggled under the weight of your comforter.

Guilt sizzled his flesh and his face was hot with shame. What did he just try to pull? As a law abiding citizen and police officer, he shouldn’t be–

“...eon.” He stiffened at your sleep talk. His blue eyes shifted to your curled up form. Your face was mushed against your pillow, face scrunched up.

“Not there… Stop… Mmf,” you groaned as you buried your face deeper into your pillow. A steady snore ensued, and he almost burst out laughing at the absurdity of what he had just witnessed.

So it wasn’t just him. He was glad to know you shared the same sentiments as him. Be it small or large, a little shared sentiment was all he needed. Now he could dispose of the guilt eating him away for the past months. He slipped out of your room quietly, closing the door behind him as softly as when he entered.

The pills helped you get much needed sleep. In fact, you felt better than usual. You could focus better in class, your feet carried you further than usual, and besides the strange aching and marks on your body parts from time to time, you were feeling better than ever. You had to thank your step brother for it. Despite his presence being the reason for your sleep depravity, the pills he gave you worked wonders. Soon you would run out, and that meant you'd have to ask him for more. You considered taking some tonight, but you had a long day at school and the exhaustion led you to crawl into bed without reaching for the familiar bottle on your bedside.

Things were going swimmingly with your new family. And sure, even though you were still coming to terms with the eye candy on the other side of the wall– and how you had to calm your heart when you stood in the same room– everything was just peachy. Your lashes fluttered close as a smile settled on your face. Your heart was full, and there was nothing you could wish for to be happier.

Creaking floorboards prompted you to crack open your eyes. Your vision swirled in the darkness and you saw a silhouette of a man. Broad shoulders, big arms… Wait, was that Leon? You tried to speak, but your body was paralysed with exhaustion. Something about how he was steadily approaching you was odd. And wait– why was he in your room? What time was it even?

It was night, you knew that from the moonlight’s hues that your room was bathed in. But how long did you sleep? It felt like you had only closed your eyes for a mere second. Your step brother stopped at the foot of your bed, and through your hazy vision, you stared at him.

The cop’s pupils dilated in the darkness, enough to see your unmoving form on bed. But he failed to notice your half lidded gaze. He sat on the edge of your bed, facing you as he stared. Stared at you for a long, quiet minute. There were no words to describe the awkward tension hanging in the air, a thick cloud that threatened to suffocate you as you inhaled shallowly.

He got up and you managed a quiet exhale. He was going to leave you in peace. That’s what you thought, but when he sidled up closer as your comforter crumpled under him, you held your breath. Now you really had to play dead, hoping that he’d leave the moment he made sure you were really asleep. Just like when in the face of a bear, except unlike one, he was intent to follow through with his plans.

The cop’s hand traced over the outline of your figure, snaking down from your shoulder to the dip in your side, and eventually resting atop of your hip. You prayed that he would neither feel your body trembling nor hear the shaky breaths racking your frame. His hand pulled over the comforter, and cold air swept across your body. A thin sheen of sweat had formed on the back of your neck, and the pillow felt wet under your head.

Your body remained unresponsive as his deft fingers traced the swell of your chest through your tee. A whimper threatened to escape your throat as he stroked the soft curves of your breasts. His thumb found your nipple and he stroked it languidly. He chuckled softly, almost fondly, as it hardened from his ministrations. The lump in your throat grew with each second as he fiddled with your body.

Strangely enough you felt nothing. No fear or anger for him. Your mind was blank, struggling to process the implications of his actions. However your body was honest, and your nipple hardened painfully from each flick and twist he teased it with.

Then you could finally move. But as if you were possessed, your body twitched and one leg kicked out by reflex. It nailed him in the side, and he cursed quietly at your outburst. He stared expectantly, waiting for you to scream for help. But no sound escaped you, and you remained motionless in bed once again. He chalked it up to you freaking out in a dream, and he retreated after carefully covering you with your comforter. You watched with fully lidded eyes as he closed the door behind him. When it shut, you inhaled a painful gulp of air.

. . .

You couldn’t sleep properly again after that night. It didn’t take long for you to connect the dots and figure out the blonde was probably paying you visits after dark, which perfectly explained the uncharacteristic body aches and marks you’d find the next day. The fear of your brother entering your room again and staring at you in the dark compelled you to flush the remaining pills down the toilet. He caught you tossing the bottle away and when confronted about it, you forced out a lie. Lying was always a last resort because it made you feel filthy. And now your childhood home– your safe place– was tainted too.

Mother deserved to know the truth about her husband’s son. But she was happy with her new family, especially pleased that things were going well between her two children. You lacked the heart to break the news to her. She was finally happy after grieving over her loss. So you ran away from home, leaving behind everything except your school materials and some clothes. With a note for your mom, you left your family behind.

A silly note that was detached from reality. Something about how you wanted to chase your dreams like everybody else. That you were sorry for abandoning her. Pitiful lies, but you hoped your mother cared enough to let you do as you wished. And she did despite her concerns.

An entire month passed in a flash. Bunking in with a friend of yours, you took on a part time job to sustain you. Life was easier when you weren’t juggling work, school and the fear of being found by your family. You had everyone blocked on your phone the moment you ran away, and you managed to evade the police car waiting outside campus everyday. Until one unfortunate night.

Working at a bar meant two things. One: you reeked of deathly concoctions from booze. The smell emanating from you was enough to knock out even the hardiest of drinkers. And two: travelling alone after dark. You still held your mother’s words close to your heart, but if it weren’t for your cursed step brother you wouldn’t have to traverse dark streets in the quiet of night. Your friend’s neighbourhood was far from the bus stop on the main road, so you had to grope in the dark for at least ten minutes before reaching their place. If only you had a bike, or something. A worthy investment you could use right now.

Tires screeched behind you and you whipped around to see a car rapidly approaching. A pair of lights blinded you and you shielded your eyes with your arms before the car halted to a stop. The heavy slam of a door encouraged you to pry your eyes open, vision twinkling with coloured orbs as you tried to focus on the approaching figure.

“I’ve been looking all over for you–” your blood curdled at the sound of a low voice. The sound of your step brother’s voice. “–I was worried sick.”

It felt like cotton was shoved down your throat and you swallowed painfully. When your vision cleared, you made out a man in a familiar blue uniform. Blonde hair and a pair of piercingly cold blue eyes. It was certainly Leon– and your bottom lip trembled.

Your brother’s eyes were wide like yours, but while anger blazed in his eyes, yours were wide with fear and anticipation. It was clear you were going to go home. With your stepbrother. The thought lit your body with a feverish heat, and you willed your feet to move– to run and escape even if it was futile. But your feet disobeyed and you stood frozen like a stone statue. The man stood sickeningly close, hands clutching either side of your arms.

He was in your face, warm breath fanning your sweat drenched face. His thick brows knitted as he frowned. “Why’d you run away? Mom may have bought your story, but I didn’t.”

So he wanted to know the truth? You maintained your silence with pursed lips. With your face illuminated by the light from his police car, he scrutinised your features. You looked like hell, with deeply set eyebags and a sickly complexion. Goodness, what has happened to you the past month? And why did you look so frightened of him? The blonde wasn’t stupid, he could piece things faster than most. He had long suspected you found him out, that you somehow knew about his nightly visits, or maybe he was right about your suspicions and you were awake that night.

But he had to hear it from you yourself. Why? Because he never succeeded in throwing away that guilt he claimed he would. It had festered like a flesh wound, and his innocent memories with you served as maggots that ate him away as he fought against his carnal desires and his growing affection for you. He knew it was all his fault– he started this mess and maybe your open disapproval would finally put an end to his twisted desires.

So he needed you to tell him off. To scream and shout, let it all out in his face. Leon was selfish, he wanted you to get mad at him. He clenched his jaw and shook you. The force rattled your entire figure and you bit back a sob. He practically repelled back, like oil on water, the moment fat tears rolled down your cheeks.

You buried your face in your hands and he watched in horror. An uncomfortable itch ran down his side– he didn’t know what to do. Endlessly bawling on the streets would not resolve anything. So he yanked you into the passenger seat of the car and drove off.

He parked the car on the side of a quiet road, hands on the steering wheel as he gazed at you from his peripheral. The engine was on, a quiet whirr as the aircon nipped at your tear stained face. You shook like a newborn fawn, and you hung your head and faced your body towards the door. He couldn’t read your facial expression, but it was clear that you wanted out. If only the doors weren’t locked, huh?

Leon drummed his fingers on the wheel. A rhythmic beat that led to nowhere, a consistent tempo that was interrupted by a sneeze or so from you. He planned to bring you home, but maybe the next day, when you were in a better state. So he drove and drove until he found a roadside motel in the middle of nowhere. Perfect for the two of you to work things out. He ordered you to wait in the car as he filled out the paperwork, and after securing a room, he escorted you into your lodging for the night.

Besides practically manhandling you into the place, he was gentle as he stripped you of your clothes. You let him because your head was too muddled with exhaustion to retaliate. Even when his eyes hovered over your naked body, you paid no mind to it. The two of you stood in the shower, underneath a steady stream of warm water. The blonde’s arms wrapped around your waist, face buried in the space between your neck and the curve of your collarbone. He pressed a tender kiss onto your skin, and he gently tilted your head for more excess. Leon’s canines dragged across your flushed skin in an open mouthed kiss, his hand snaked down your navel and-

You snapped out of your daze and pushed him off you. Your feet splashed water onto the walls as your back hit the corner of the shower. Hair was matted against your face as your chest heaved. Vapour swirled in the small cubicle, twirling around the both of you as water pattered onto the bathroom tiles. With your arms wrapped around your body, you squeezed yourself into the corner– hoping to disappear.

You remembered who you were, where you were, and who it was that stood across you. The reason why you had trouble sleeping, and the reason why you ran away from home. Like a kicked puppy, you stared wearily at your nightmare incarnate. Your step brother, who you should be in neither a shower nor motel with. Far from home and far from anyone who would save you.

“You’re scared-” he whispered the obvious. You flinched as he took a step forward. There was a curious brokenness in his tone, like he was hurting as much as you were. “I get it, really. But there’s something you should know.”

His slender fingers wrapped around your wrist, a bruising grip as he forcefully placed your hand onto his muscular chest. An irregular rhythm thumped behind its confines, pulsing against your soaked fingertips. You met his eyes, which carried an uncharacteristic warmth behind them.

“I’m scared too.”

Leon wasn’t lying, he was truly afraid. Afraid that you would run away again and leave him behind. It took him an entire month to finally find you, he risked his job stationing his department’s car on campus everyday just for you. His job meant little to him compared to you, whom he’d grown to desperately care for. Even with his twisted desires, he didn’t want you to be afraid of him. Not like this, at least.

He closed the distance slowly, and you shut your eyes as a pair of lips slotted againsts yours. His lips glided against yours, lubricated from the stream descending upon you two. His hand found purchase on your waist and he pulled you closer, and you shivered– despite the nauseating warmth in the shower– when he ghosted his fingers on the small of your back. Your legs wobbled, weak from his melting kisses and searing touch, and you placed your hands on his chest for stability.

The fight in your body sizzled away, conjoining with the droplets that cascaded down the tips of your hair to fall onto the tiles. They slithered into the drain, never to return. Your lips swelled with anticipation as he smothered you with kiss after kiss, and your cheeks tingled with warmth from the lack of air when your tongues danced in an unruly tango. He was taking your breath away, and your fingers dug into his chest, nails branding red crescents into the flesh of his pecs.

When you broke away for air, strings of saliva hung from your lips to his. His gaze mirrored yours; pupils dilated and clouded with need. His hand dipped south, padded fingers dragging down your navel again when you clutched his wrist. He knitted his brows, confused.

“We shouldn’t do this…” you rasped, uncertainty laced in your voice. “We’re siblings.”

With a weak push, you tried to push his hand away. But he snatched your wrists and pinned them above your head as you gasped. In your tunnel vision, all you could see was the lopsided smirk on his handsome face.

“Siblings?” You jumped when he spread your folds with his digits. His thumb found your clit and he prodded at it with a blunt nail. “We may be siblings on paper, but we both know that we share no blood.”

Leon was right, in reality you were just a woman and he was a man. Strangers who shared nothing but a legal last name. A digit pressed against your tight entrance, and he watched you with a hooded gaze as he slowly slid it in. Your lips parted in a shaky exhale, lashes fluttering and brows knitted. The stretch was intruding, and he had only the first segment of his finger in when you whimpered painfully. He massaged your pearl with his thumb and shushed you with his lips. He soothed the bundle of your nerves in a circular motion as he pushed his finger further into you. Your entire body trembled when he added another finger.

You were falling apart before him, and he was enjoying every second of it. His tongue swiped across his bottom lip as he watched your expression contort whilst he scissored and fondled your insides with his digits. Your knees were bowed, thighs trembling like a newborn lamb. You bit your lip to quieten your moans. Leon knew how to use his fingers better than you did, and the loud squelching of your wetness was proof of his expertise.

A familiar ache throbbed in you, and you squirmed against his hold while arching your back. Your stepbrother chuckled lowly, hints of pearly white showing as he smiled.

“See? Even if we were actually siblings, your body would still beg for me to make you cum. Just like this.”

His thumb applied just the right amount of pressure onto your clit and you squealed with pleasure. Your thighs pressed together, squeezing the hand between them as your walls fluttered around him. The man released your wrists so that you could cling onto him as you came hard, face buried in his chest as your body jolted against his. When you calmed down, he retrieved his fingers, eliciting a whine from the new emptiness.. He showed you his hand, where an embarrassing amount of cum dribbled down his fingers and knuckles.

“Say ‘ahh’,” he ordered, fingers hovering above your lips. You could smell it before you tasted it; a salty scent clung to your translucent fluid dripping down his appendages. Lips parted, you took his fingers in and suckled on them. With your eyes fixated on him, you blushed from his hum of approval.

“Good girl. C’mon,” he withdrew his fingers and you stared blankly. “Turn around and spread that ass for me.”

You did as you were told, leaning forward and placing a hand on the wall. With condensation smushed against that palm, you used your other hand to hold one cheek to spread yourself open. He swallowed thickly as he pumped himself weakly. His length stood at full height, curving upwards with all his veins popping angrily. His balls throbbed from the sight. You knew how to rile him up without even trying.

Leon’s fingers rested on your puckered hole, making you shiver. You cast him a glance over your shoulder, a begging look– did you not want it there? Shame, maybe next time. You audibly sighed when he lined himself up against your sticky slit, and you placed both hands on the wall to steady yourself, standing on tippy toes as he slowly sheathed himself into you. He drove himself into you slowly, and you unconsciously bent your knees as you were pushed forward.

A low moan filled the bathroom whilst Leon hissed as he clutched your waist. Something trickled down his length and gathered at his base. Something red. A small blob fell and landed on the wet floor before being swept away. He raised his brows.

“Fuck- I’m your first?” He laughed in disbelief as the thin streak of blood split into two. Another droplet fell and you looked down at the tiles too, head still cottony to process anything.

“Don’t worry,” he took your arms and pulled them back. As the blonde forcefully arched your back, he leaned in and smirked against your ear. “Your step bro will show you the ropes in pleasing a man.”

Leon thrusted into you and you gasped from the fullness. Your belly swelled from the depth of his intrusion, and you whimpered as he pounded into you at a steady yet unforgiving pace. His pelvis smashed against your plush rear, and you moaned from the incessant slapping of his balls against your puffy lips. Your eyes were almost lidded, a string of drool snaked down your chin as your insides stroked his dick with a vice grip.

You couldn’t think of anything but the intoxicating fullness within you. Feeling it all was overwhelming; the ridges of his cock, his throbbing veins as they rubbed against your gumminess, and the hot tip of his cock as it kissed your cervix. Your eyes rolled back when he jammed into a particular spot. This was surely heaven– and you mewled against his hold, upper body squirming.

The blonde clenched his jaw, eyes hyper fixated on the pretty jiggle of your ass. He was so close, just a bit more and he’d pour everything out into you. You milked him better than any woman did, and the urge to empty all his worth into you clouded his head despite the blaring of sirens in his cotton filled head. With a grunt, he wrapped his arm around your neck in a chokehold, pulling you back towards him. His chest was flushed against your back as you arched deliciously, the bottom of your spine throbbed in protest as he snapped his hips harder. Gurgled moans were choked out from you as he pistoned into you with the reckless desire to breed.

“‘M gunna cum. Hff- Say you need it. Tell me you want it..!” He babbled as his forearm contracted, tightening his hold on your delicate neck. You feebly clawed at it, broken noises fell from your lips whilst your lips faded from pink blue. When he finally came, he pressed his pelvis flushed against your ass as you leaned into the bathroom wall.

He slathered you with thick ropes of cum, and you whimpered at the strange warmth flooding you. When he pulled out, his cock hung limply between his legs as a streak of white oozed out of you. A bead of cum oozed on his tip, and you weakly clutched the wall with shivering hands.

Your laboured breaths were muted noises in the presence of the incessant hissing of the shower. He turned the damn thing off and after toweling the both of you dry, he led you to bed. Goosebumps crawled along your skin from the cold air, but the warmth from his body pressing you into the mattress comforted you. His arms caged you in on either side while your hands wandered along his muscular chest. Scars littered across body, and each time your fingers traced them, he’d flinch. Your nails ghosted over an aged bullet wound when he pulled away from your face. More strings bridged your lips together.

“So pretty,” he muttered. He nuzzled his face into your chest, voice rumbling against your skin. “All mine.”

“Yeah,” you carded your fingers through his damp hair. Your lashes fluttered sleepily, the strange warmth within you growing as you smiled.

“All yours.”

(BONUS)

“I’m so glad Leon found you.” Mom’s voice echoed in the motel room. It was a voicemail, and if it were a live call, you wouldn’t have your trembling legs over your step brother's broad shoulders. Well, you wouldn’t but he would.

“I was worried sick, my dear. When you return today, I’ll have your favourite meal waiting on the table. Like before-”

You bit the back of your hand, hard enough to draw blood as your toes curled. Your other hand was in the sea of his tousled blonde tresses, fingers gripping his locks as you ground yourself against his face. The tip of his nose bumped against your swollen clit, eliciting a muffled whine.

“Leon,” you panted against your hand, lashes fluttering. “Stop teasing and just put it in already!”

Your thighs squeezed his head together, and he clamped his hands on them to pry your legs further open. The blonde buried his tongue deeper into your weeping cunt, languidly swirling his and your essence together into one. A cry rang in the motel room as your mother’s voice was overlaid by the static buzzing in your ears and his voice.

“Patience is a virtue. Didn’t your mom teach you that?” He chuckled as your thighs twitched in his grasp. He licked a teasing stripe against your slit.

“Don’t bring mom into this,” you frowned, but another lick elicited another squeal. The familiar haze in your head was waiting to consume you, and you let yourself fall victim to it as you gripped his hair again.

When he pulled away, you whimpered pathetically and gazed at him through heavy lashes. Your eyes were clouded with need, and he stroked your cheek with his knuckles with an amused chuckle. He kissed you– and you tasted your stickiness while soothing his swollen lips with your tongue.

“-Anyway, I’ll see you later. I’m so happy you’re finally coming home. See you tonight!” The voice call ended with a beep and you breathed a huge sigh of relief. Your eyes fluttered close, when the mattress dipped as he pushed you onto your back. You opened them blearily to meet his blue eyes, where desire and passion swirled deeply.

“Feeling sleepy? Don’t fall asleep on me now… Cause your step bro is gonna take good care of you.”

all content written by @cherubify ! do not repost, edit, plagiarise, or use my work for AI. requests are indefinitely open.

#resident evil #resident evil smut #leon s kennedy #leon kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x fem reader #leon kennedy x y/n #leon kennedy x you #resident evil x you #leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy oneshot #leon kennedy fic #leon kennedy fanfic #minors dni #minors do not interact #cw: smut #cw: dubcon #cw: noncon #cw: somnophilia #cw: breeding #cw: choking #dead dove do not eat

[captainjamster]

Observation Duty

Pairing(s): Price x fem!Reader Warnings: Manipulation, stalking, monitoring and surveillance, obsessive behaviour, non-consensual voyeurism, non-consensual mutual masturbation, non-consensual recording and photos Wordcount: 3.2k Summary: John isn't quite the captain everyone thinks he is, but he knows just how to act like it. No one would ever believe the things he does behind closed doors. AO3 Link: Right here! <3

A/N: PLEASE LOOK AT THE WARNINGS BEFORE YOU READ MORE! This is the first part of what should be two chapters, because I can't stop starting things without finishing them <3

If I miss any tags you think should be there, please let me know!

Full fic under the cut <3

John’s line of work has taught him that people are so, so easy to play with. Know the right person, the right place. Know what to say, who to say it to.

Keeping you safe, under his ever-observant eye, is easy in the barracks and on the field. You don’t make a single move he doesn’t see or hasn’t approved. But when you go home, away from him and his control, he just can’t help but worry. Are you safe, alone in that big, empty house? What do you get up to? Are you eating and drinking? Taking care of yourself? Who do you see? Do you invite anyone around? The idea of another man in your home makes him shudder, and in your bedroom isn’t something he even entertains. John needs to do something about it.

He’s been thinking for a while. Some way to watch you, every waking moment. A permanent eye on the wall. He knows your address; it’s right there in your files. There isn’t a single legal document or piece of information about you that he can’t obtain if he wants to. Every place you’ve lived, your parents, extended family, even your friendship circles. Your school results, community hobbies, bank purchases, every doctors trip – especially your birth control and fertility, he paid very close attention to those details. He knows how to play you; he listens to your grumbling, observes what makes you happy. Notices the moments where you’re less resistant, records what makes you flare up in defensiveness or fury. John is a well-educated man, one who could’ve been a scholar in another life, and he’s decided his favourite topic to study is you.

--- ︻デ═一 ---

“Remember to fill out your forms, lads. New policies coverin’ house insurance and maintenance, let me know if y’need any fixin’ at home.” He hands out the papers, carefully keeping yours separate without being too obvious. Soap’s head bobs up, glancing at you and taking the bait John has set out perfectly. “Oi bonnie, weren’t ye chattin’ ‘bout fixin’ a light o’ somethin’?”

Your face lights up at the mention, a bashful smile gracing your lips, and John would be mad that it’s not in his direction if he wasn’t so satisfied with himself. “I can’t believe you remembered that, yeah! I was going to wait until I got home.”

Gaz hums, hunched over his own form as he signs it. “Maybe Ghost can buy a piece of furniture this year.” His sentence is rewarded with a pen smacking into the side of his head, bouncing off him and onto the table as Ghost snorts in amusement, answering gruffly. “Fuck off, Garrick.”

It never goes wrong, but he still feels smug at how effortless it is to orchestrate an entire conversation before it starts. Getting your signature is as easy as an extra sheet, you can’t even tell the difference. No one reads terms and conditions, and he’s made extra sure you don’t - a couple of edited test forms a few months ago - to rule out the chance.

With the paperwork completed, he contacts the company and gives them a boring, digestible cover story. “Yeah, her husband. Installing cameras, yeah. Keepin’ it safe while we’re both on deployment. Just a light out the back to fix, cameras to install in and outside.”

They’re so quick to listen to the man playing the big, strong head of the house, not a single question about why everything but the payment would be in his ‘wife’s’ name instead. Lying, John finds, is easiest when others do the work for you; give vague details that seem right, and let them come to their own little conclusions. Let them assume you’re some kind of military wife who doddles along behind him, just an obedient little civilian pet while he organises the household. If only they knew what you were and what you did, he thinks. Though still, an obedient little pet is how he would like you. It just takes time to get there.

They come over and install the cameras in less than a week. John’s antsy the day he gets the call that they finished, waiting for it to be over so he can experiment with his new toy. He ignores the questioning looks from his inferiors as he dismisses his last evening meeting early, pushing out the door into the stream of soldiers heading for dinner, only departing from the pack when he reaches his office door.

John prepared a room for this in advance – the moment he set the plan in motion. A room at home, his central control that he could run unmanned and long-distance, circumnavigating his occupancy at the base. It’s almost undetectable; no pesky windows to peek in from the outside, entry hidden behind a locked door in his office. The numerous screens flicker to life, illuminating the room in a blue glow. The cameras are perfect; detailed quality, blur-less zoom. Every angle. It quickly becomes his favourite room to be in, despite only being in it once when he headed home to initially set everything up.

At the base, all he needs is an electronic device and an app to access the command. His favourite to use is his phone, flicking through each screen to take in the rooms, committing each detail and decoration to heart. Though to keep up all professional appearances, he often settles for his laptop, flicking between reports and gazing at the screens with every spare second. John takes the weeks leading up to break to memorise your house, seeing each room flickering on the back of his eyelids as lies in bed, tracing each path you’d take morning and night until he falls asleep.

He protects it. Types your address into his maps app, virtually scouting the neighbourhood to make sense of all your outside cameras, memorising every surrounding street. Plans escape routes, recording positions of defence and any weak spots he could reinforce, windows or vents that are just too easy to wrench open by perverse men like him. Within a month, he knows your house plan like his own; enough to contemplate how he would reorganise it if you wanted him to move in, how many little ones it could hold, tiny feet pattering up and down its hallways.

--- ︻デ═一 ---

When the last week before leave finally comes around, he’s beyond ecstatic. John is a carefully controlled slate around anyone else, but his boys know each twitch of his eyebrow and quirk of his lip. They clue you in to his unusually excited behaviour with teasing jokes and remarks that have him rolling his eyes, gruffly ordering them back to work. Soap is betting on a secret missus, making a point to sneak up behind Price when Soap catches him texting away on his phone.

When he finally arrives home, he’s delighted to see your house is still empty. It gives him time to unpack, running loads of laundry and showering. He keeps an eye on his phone, monitoring the screens until he finishes, bringing a cup of coffee and dinner to his little surveillance room.

The screens fill the wall, a 3x3 set-up that basks the room in a pale glow, yet still isn’t enough to display every camera hidden around your house. Everything is silent, the occasional rumble of a car getting his hopes up, but nothing happens until a few sips of his coffee and an article later. Movement from one of the screen catches his attention, his head straightening to watch your front door swing open.

A bag is the first thing that comes through the door, flung down the hallway with a dull thud. Your figure follows it in, heaving another heavy bag behind you. John frowns at the sight, mindlessly tutting as he crosses his arms. He could be there to do that for you. None of this silly straining yourself.

Leaning back and settling in, he watches how you unravel from your long absence. It pleases him that you’re practical in your return, taking the time to wash your laundry, circulate and dispel all the stagnant air (although Price dislikes seeing your windows open, so unattended), and give the place a general tidy up. There’s a ping from your phone a few times that puts John on edge. Who’s texting you already, when you’ve been back for less than a day? His prominent guess is family and close friends, excited to have their beloved child home and safe, but he can’t help from worrying that he’s wrong. Maybe you’re so pent up that you just can’t help it, using those silly dating apps you talk about with Gaz, eager for someone to unravel all that need within you. Maybe it’s an old friends-with-benefits situation you already have that’s eager to climb back in your bed. Maybe – maybe he should bug your devices.

His deliberations are disrupted as you reward your productivity with what Price thinks to be a party in your bathroom. The small haven of what should be privacy isn’t free from his omniscient gaze, either. He doesn’t care if it’s disgusting; there are no boundaries to him. There isn’t a single side of you he doesn’t want to see, doesn’t want to know.

The music comes through his speakers, some songs he recognises from the long travels spent in transport together. Melodies echo through your room as steam slowly gathers, whisps streaming in and out of his lens view as water slowly fills the bath. You trail from the room, meandering down the hall and grabbing some snacks from the kitchen, filling a glass with a carbonated drink you grab from the fridge. Snug in the corner above the entryway, paired neatly with the fire alarm, his camera catches the way you bend yourself over the counter, distracted by scrolling through some app.

He feels himself throb at the sight, fumbling to take a screenshot of the image. You tease him, staying bent like that as you wait for the bath, your ass swaying occasionally when a trendy song hums from your phone. Disappointment washes through him when you stand up, though he basks in the sight of your stomach peaking from under your shirt as you stretch, but his excitement is quickly renewed when you gather your snacks and head back to the bathroom.

The room has filled with a thick fog that blooms out into the hallway as you open the door. It clouds his vision, leaving him cursing for not considering the possibility. Your darkened figure is hardly visible as you move throughout the room, but from the soft, metallic clicks and flickering of light, he assumes you’re lighting something. Two lights blossom in front of you, remaining behind you as you crouch at the bath and start flicking the lighter again. The cloud has dispersed enough to let John see the fuzzy details of your face, watching as you bring a third candle to your face, inhaling with a hum of delight before you light the flame and return it to the bath’s edge. You strew the candles about the room, leaving a large one to glow on your vanity and putting the other one on your closed toilet lid.

You fiddle with the taps – running cold water, he guesses – and sit on the floor, sorting your snacks onto a long tray as the last of the mist spills from the room. He’s been lucky this time; had you not been treating yourself, taking the time to create a small sanctuary, the fog would’ve concealed any chance of John seeing you at such a vulnerable time. A flaw within his system that requires refinement. Perhaps a flaw he can turn into an excuse to visit you.

His thoughts fall flat when you stand up, slotting the tray into its position over the bath and silencing the taps with a few sharp turns. Finally. The point he’s been anticipating.

The captain waits with bated breath, eager to salivate over his uninvited striptease. It’s far from the first time he’s seen you undress, though it’s the first time you’ve been so beautifully unaware. Close proximity (and the resulting lack of privacy) is just another test of comradery – he’s showered next to you in just underwear and ripped your shirt or pants off to treat a stab wound more times than he can count.

But this time you undress, you don’t stop at your underwear.

There’s no to palaver or parade to your performance – there’s no real performance, just a one-sided show, and that alone has John’s cock aching. Capturing you without filter, pretences or social expectations, no song and dance of captain and soldier. You’re clumsy pulling off your underwear, catching the elastic on your toes and throwing it haphazardly onto the floor with the rest of your clothes through curses and grumbles. Inspecting yourself in the mirror, catching up on each new scar and burn, bending over and peering around to see the state of your backside and between your thighs. This is a side of you he can never glimpse on base, despite all his attempts.

The buzz of your phone distracts you, straightening up with a right, okay! and grabbing the small device, unlocking it to peer at the content as you gingerly slide a foot into the hot, soapy water. Bit by bit, you emerge yourself within the sudsy liquid, minding the tray as you let out an audible groan. John watches you melt into the bubbles, arms resting along the tub as your head falls back.

For a while, the two of you remain like that; John sat comfortably in his chair, ignoring the heat flickering in his lower stomach as he works through some papers, keeping an eye on your relaxed form as you decompress within the hot, sudsy water, picking at the tray of food and drink. His attention slips as the minutes go by, becoming more focused on his work – pushing the aching need between his legs further to the side - as he checks the screen every ten minutes.

The swishing of water becomes a tranquil ambience as you scrub at yourself, low voices from your phone that John doesn’t currently care to make out keeping you entertained through the process. You luxuriate in the tub for much longer than the barrack would ever allow, taking your time to scrub the build-up of product and dead skin that you give little concern during deployment.

A paper absorbs his attention, keeping his eyes occupied as he grumbles through writing. His concentration is only torn away as he finishes scribbling his signature, a sharp, unexpected moan filling his ears that has him looking up so fast his neck cricks. Scanning the screen, he quickly determines that it’s not coming from you – rather, your phone, and is now accompanied by a deep, masculine groan.

Your expression is clear on his screen, a flush to your cheeks as you gaze at your device, hand running along your chest teasingly to tug at a nipple. Whether it’s from the pornographic material playing on your phone or the heat of the water, John can’t tell.

The tent of his pants is already insufferably tight, and he swears there’ll be a zipper print against the red of his aching cock when he pulls it out. He wants to relish this, commit each moment of this first time to memory without the taint of his lust, but he can’t help the growing need between his legs. Ignoring it to finish paperwork, merely bask in the company of your unwinding routine, has been a challenge even for his steeled resolve.

As he watches your hand trail down the soft pudge of your torso, dipping into the bubbly water to follow the rise and dip of your stomach, he breaks. His cock springs out of his briefs like it’s gasping for air, bouncing angrily against his stomach with each haphazard tug at the elastic around his hips. He can only imagine how your fingers work between your legs at that sensitive skin, how you orchestrate your undoing.

The tray holds your phone conveniently, allowing both hands to roam your body, and John thanks his luck for at least the opportunity to watch you pinch and roll your nipples between your fingers. You tug at the sensitive buds with whimpered moans, water sloshing as your hips buck against your hand, teasing John with actions that he can’t see.

He’s damp to the touch as he grips his shaft, fingers immediately sticky with precum that’s been smeared throughout his briefs. Pearlescent beads drool from his tip in a lazy stream, lubricating his motions as he tugs lightly at his foreskin, already teetering the edge of climax. The slightest stimulation has his stomach tightening, listening to your gasps and whines grow in urgency.

You chase your orgasm eagerly, working with a pent up need that comes from the absence of full privacy within the miliary. Convulsions rack through you in synchronisation, moans combining in a harmony he wishes wasn’t separated by the screen. He wants to time it perfectly; fuck up into his fist and release as you reach your own peak, as if a flawless synchronisation is key to unlocking some phantom sensation of being buried between your thighs, clenched down around him.

It doesn’t take much more teasing before you catch up, your tiles wet as water breaches the rim with each careless thrust. The video in front of you has ended, long forgotten as your head lulls back, lost in the sensations that envelope your consciousness that prove to be too much. They push you over the edge with a ragged cry, your knees peaking from the water as your thighs clench around your hand, and John loses himself too.

All it takes it a few weak thrusts into his hand before his balls are tightening, seed spilling in enthusiastic spurts, striping his shirt and pants before it dies down to a dribble that John coaxes out with a groan. He sits there, watching your breathing even out as you wipe away at your mess, spent and catching his breath as the cum dries on his clothes. You’re quick in cleaning up the mess, pulling yourself up on unsteady limbs as you pull the plug, bending down to rinse your hands one last time for John to relish.

He's almost heartbroken when you step out the tub, droplets cascading down to drip from your form, only to reach for a towel to wrap around yourself. The fabric is a slim cover, leaving glimpses of your behind and chest as you dry yourself, humming a tune with a note of content John wishes he brought instead. John tucks himself back into the soiled briefs, shucking off his shirt and pants to wash momentarily, but not before he glimpses you one last time getting changed.

Before you can reach for the underwear placed in advance on the sink and discard your towel, the camera barely picks up the vibration of your phone, catching both his and your attention. Leaning over to the tray, your process is halted by a text on your screen that makes you smile, and whether it’s the drunken, post-orgasmic haze that clouds his mind, or the way it makes him more vulnerable to the surge of jealousy that flares up at your giggle, John finds himself fumbling through the lockscreen and pulling up your contact before he can stop himself.

If you’re not going to think about him during your masturbation, he’s sure as hell going to make sure you think of him after.

Dividers by cafekitsune

#READ THE WARNINGS ON THIS ONE BABIES!!!! #price x reader #john price x reader #price x you #john price x you #call of duty fic #call of duty fanfic #jams writings #cw: noncon #cw: dubcon

[lovelaetter]

bear!jennie and noncon omg… i need that

CW: NONCON, SOMNOPHILIA, g!p reader

obsessed with the idea of virgin bear!jennie, a bit naïve, and that you’re trying so hard to hold back from fucking, letting things go on her pace. she loves when you finger her, let you taught her how to give you a perfect hand and blowjob and loves to suck your tits so much, but to actually take your cock? it’s too much for her, she’s a small girl, cries when you add a third finger! your cock is too big, she’s scared :(

and she was so skittish when you rescued her from the shelter and took so long to get to where you two are… so you couldn’t risk taking a wrong step and ruining things, right? but it’s so hard to hold back when her hibernation time comes :( coming home everyday from work to find the bear girl asleep in your bed was cute at first, hearing her cute sleepy whimpers and seeing the way she cuddles with your pillow, but it soon turned to torture as you began to notice other things, like sometimes she would moan or the pillow would be between her legs, and the worse, when she would sleep only in panties and a big shirt or short nightgown and it always ended riled up.

coming home one day and it’s the last straw, seeing her laying on her belly, shirt up completely up and exposing her ass for anyone to see. you resisted for so long and seeing her like that instantly got you hard, there’s nothing else you could do! you think about touching yourself and coming in her ass only at first but being behind her, seeing her so helpless… you’re soon yanking her panties down, fingers finding her folds because you’re not that bad, you know she definitely needs so prep, spreading her puffy cunt, scissoring motions to stretch her until you can fit a third finger while playing with her ass, massaging and giving light spanks :( no hint of waking up, she only moves a bit when your cock enters her.

so tight around you but so nice, you can’t believe you went for so long without it. brushing her hair away from her face and kissing her cheeks and neck, muttering “mommy is so sorry, baby” against her skin at every trust :( you do lose patience tho, going harder and harder until she finally wakes up, whiny and confused about all the movement. takes a moment for her to realize what’s happening but when she does, arms moving around, trying to push you away, whining “mommy, why you doing that?” and “stop, it hurts” between a few broken moans and sniffs and it’s so messed up but also hot :( and she’s so wet, noises filling the room, all you think about it is making her cum and coming inside her.

tight grip on her waist so she has her ass up, going fast and hearing her sweet sounds, reaching for clit, until you feel the way she clenches so badly around you and as a chain reaction, you fill her up :( she’s still so sleepy, can’t even turn around to look at you, only if nodding and whining when you finger the cum back inside her hole and pull her panties up, kissing her pouty lips and telling her to “go back to sleep princess, i’ll be here when you wake up”

bonus if when she wakes up she doesn’t remember a thing, only flashes that she think were from a very, very realistic dream, head still dizzy with sleep, wincing when she moves and realizes there’s something wrong with her body, so sore, and her hole is aching and sticky. mentioning that to you and being embarrassed that she woke up horny, dripping wet even, and you’re so good at pretending surprise but saying it’s okay, you can help! fingering her but she keeps saying her hole is still aching — guess you were a little too harsh with her — so you suggest that maybe it’s time for her to take your cock :( that maybe it’s what her body is trying to tell her, that she needs to be filled. her reluctantly accepting, letting you guide her and being so surprised when you easily slide inside her, like her hole was made for you :( who could’ve imagined it, right? haha, almost like you had already carved a space inside her without her knowing haha

cockwarming with bear nini during hibernation :( her all cozy and sleepy while clenching around you and always waking up filled with cum :(

#asks #blackpink smut #jennie smut #cw: noncon #cw: somnophilia