#evil dead fic

[rotandguts]

✶ ┄ YOU WEREN’T MINE TO LOSE

danny (evil dead rise) x fem!reader, 

part one of the ‘august’ series. 

camp map

summary: the first week back at camp is never easy, but it definitely doesn’t help matters that your lifelong rival and ‘mortal enemy’ is there. both picked as camp counsellors, you’re forced to work together for the good of the camp, but that doesn’t mean you have to like each other.

word count: 10k+

content: SUMMER CAMP AU, rivals/enemies to lovers, implications of transphobia, mentions of bullying, slowburn, angst, mentions of alcohol/intoxication/underaged drinking, mentions of sex, mentions of divorce and abandonment, hints of david allen (evil dead 2013) x fem!reader, some people may be quite OOC?

A/N: EEEEEEK, this is going to be a long one but will be split up into chapters. btw i have no clue what danny’s actual last name is so for the sake of this story its bixler bc that's what beth’s confirmed name is okay? I AM SO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG LMAO part 2 and 3 will take very long also okay okay i’m so sorry pls enjoyyyyyy xoxo

publishing date ―  july 21st 2023 |  © rotandguts

✶

The winding road on the way to camp was claustrophobic, your first year driving there yourself. You prayed you were still on the right route, your phone’s GPS struggling to update after losing service a while back.

The sight of the endless rows of green trees was becoming redundant, the charm of the wilderness already wearing off on you upon the second hour of your journey. Eyes on the road, you slurped on the blue raspberry Slusho you picked up at a gas stop mid-journey. Savouring the cool syrup induced taste in the summer heat, windows down and car speakers blaring.

A large wooden sign came into view, confirming your path and indicating the end of the long journey. Engraved on the sign was:

CAMP KANDAR

est. 1959

You have gone past this sign every year since you were 8 years old. Initially reluctant to attend, you grew to truly love the place. You giggled at the thought that they almost had to pull you kicking and screaming from the car when you realised you would be remaining there for a little over a month the first ever time you arrived. How times had changed seeing as you were now willingly returning as an adult.

Camp Kandar was just outside Los Angeles, a safe hub to send your kids away to learn what the outside world was like at a reasonable price.

If you imagine what your ideal slasher sleepaway camp would look like from a 70s horror film, Kandar probably looked exactly like it. You were surprised that in all the years of running it no one had actually died there, as far as you were aware anyway.

There were rumours and myths of the camp being built over an ancient castle. Or maybe it was a burial ground? It changed every few years when new counselors got to tell their own version of the myth to the young campers.

This actually would be your first year as a counselor at the camp, it was either this or spending more time slaving away at your job in the local Henrietta’s pizza. You could no longer bare the daily heat and stench of the pizza kitchen, especially during summer.

Hands from distant figures you couldn’t make out waved at you on arrival. Your car finishes its journey in the parking lot beside a Buick Roadsmaster at the child and parent drop off point. You furrow your brows, the campers weren’t meant to arrive for another 2 days.

Exiting the car, you take a moment to breathe in and embrace your new home for the next few weeks, your summer sanctuary for over the past decade greeting you like an old friend. Thick, moist summer sweetness so rife in the air that it makes you feel almost sick to your stomach.

The first thing on your itinerary was to collect your uniform from the camp reception, which you were sure you’d be manning at some point during your time working there. You thought of all the things you’d be able to do now as a counselor, buzzing around the prospect of sneaking out late to whatever party they’d always throw near the old cabin. None of the younger campers were invited, only hearing fabled tales of wild goings on from the distant music and laughter in the night.

Camp director Williams definitely knew about the extracurricular goings on at the camp, and while he took no nonsense, he knew that kids just want to have fun. It’s what made him such a great leader, although the shotgun on the wall above his desk definitely kept campers on edge.

With your case trailing behind you and your backpack hanging casually from your shoulder, you set off towards the camp reception. The building clearly needed a refresher, certain letters in the sign slightly faded due to time and the wood of the steps creaking to a cautious extent under your feet.

Doors swing open, eyes flicker to you. A woman with long red hair stands at the desk with her back to you, obviously in distress talking to director Williams, her arms flailing with hushed whispers.

“Oh great. And you’re here, now. My day just gets better.”

And him.

You turn around and there he is, bags slung on the floor, leaning against the wall with a Nintendo Switch in hand.

Danny Bixler-Sutherland, your worst nightmare.

You had met him that first ever year at camp, becoming close friends after you were assigned to share a bunk. But something shifted in both of you, you were unsure when it all really started. You were both naturally competitive at the group activities from a young age and usually always sorted onto different teams, you always wondered if your competitive playing style drove a wedge in between you both.

Director Williams places a hand on her arm in comfort, “Please, we’ve known each other for how many years now? You know you can call me Ash, Ellie. We can just get bunks sorted for them until moving in day and then sort out proper accommodation. Means they’re not alone in the cabin.” He began to walk towards you, shifting the woman to face you. It was Danny’s mother, Ellie with a striking hair dye job.

Danny had always been in your dormitory growing up, until he came out and his mom fought tooth and nail to get him transferred to the boys dorm. He was popular around camp and people adjusted to the news quickly. But, there were of course a handful of dickheads that treated him like shit because of it. Director Williams put great measures in place to ensure none of them bothered Danny again, some of them being kicked out of camp. You had always wondered if that shotgun had been involved in Williams’ interrogation of them, you hoped it had.

Ever since the summer when the championship was determined to be a tie after you and Danny broke into a fight during the last challenge, you’d been at each other’s necks at almost every possible second.

However, deep down you had an inkling that it all really had something to do with a night that same year, around five or six years ago when a small group of the pre-teen campers, including the both of you, snuck out to camp in the woods.

It had been a largely uneventful night, the excitement in the moment mainly fuelled by the breaking of rules. By the end of the night it had become apparent that despite the bunks in their dorms not being the comfiest, they sure beat the makeshift tents and dusty forest floor.

But the shift in the air was clear. You went into those woods that night, hoping for a last chance of that closeness so present in your youth. By the time you left in the morning and returned to your respective dorms, you barely spoke.

Both of you may have been at each other's necks at the best of times, but insulting each other's appearances or anything personal was a line you both silently agreed to never ever cross. You remembered overhearing bitchy whispers from some of the girls in the cafeteria about him when he first appeared with short hair pre-transition, and you took great pleasure in cutting their hair that night when they were sleeping.

When the girls reported you to the director he had simply shrugged and said, “Talk shit, get hit girls. First rule in the book.”

And it’s not like he wouldn’t do the same for you. Some of the boys had been teasing you, more specifically teasing your figure, behind your back. Low and behold, you had heard that Danny took the charge when standing up for you. It was little things like that that meant you could never truly hate him, and same for him about you.

It was kind of like, the only people that could be mean to you both were the two of you. It was endearing in a way that you would rather die than to admit outloud, a sign of respect from your former friendship.

“Is this a bad time?” You question Danny, feeling like you’ve walked in on something you shouldn’t have but not wanting to pester director Williams until he ends his conversation. “Every place you exist in is a bad time.” Danny remarks, concentration still fully on the games console in front of him.

“That’s a low blow even for you, someone woke up on the wrong side of bed today, Mr Crankypants?” You retaliate, readjusting the weight of your backpack.

“You’re a little too old for camp, scout.” That was his nickname for you ever since you were younger. Without context it seemed almost endearing, but the reality of it drove you crazy.

In an attempt to impress an older counselor years ago, you had told a little white lie that you were a scout with all the training. This was a lie you kept up for almost the full time at camp, and doubled down on it on most days. On a hike, one kid began to have an asthma attack and the responsibility of helping them was promptly put on you by the panicking teen counselor.

Luckily, the kid was completely fine but it became apparent to everyone that you not only were not a scout but had zero knowledge in first aid training. No one had really cared, the counselor got in trouble for their negligence and own lack of first aid knowledge. Everyone went back to their normal jokes the next week after a spot of light torment from your fellow campers.

But you cared. It was just one of those borderline traumatic cringe moments in your life that you wish you could forget. And Danny, who was on the hike that day, knew that.

“Yeah I could say the same to you, DJ Dan.” He grimaced, slamming the console down on the reception desk.

“Jesus H Christ, how many years now with you both and you’re still doing this shit?” Ash wiped his brow of sweat, Ellie’s eyes fluttering between the two of you.

“Hey, Y/N. Good summer?” She smiled. You’d known the woman in passing for the same time you’d known Danny. She had definitely been on the receiving end of many phone calls about your behaviour towards each other, and your perhaps even worse behaviour towards others while acting in defence of one another.

Smiling and nodding back to her, “Yeah great so far, thanks - yours?” Despite trying to keep her smile, for a second her face flickered with something unreadable, Danny nervously shifted, eyes bouncing to his sisters in the corner of the room. They were so quiet you had failed to notice them sitting there.

“Same old, I guess.” Her hands clutching her car keys tighter. “How are your parents?”

If you were being honest, you didn’t know the answer to that.

“They’re fine. Same old, I guess.” You gripped the strap of your backpack a little tighter too. Your parents, while not mega rich, had a good bit of money. Most of your life, you’d spent much of your time without them or with a nanny. Summer was great because it meant going on holiday with them somewhere, anywhere. Until they realised they could hire a nanny in the form of Camp Kandar for the entire summer that was far cheaper and even further away from them.

Ellie politely nodded, before approaching the girls. “It’s just two days extra, right? I’ll be there to pick you all up the first second I can and bring you home.” Bridget nods, the older of the two. Kassie looked pained for a moment. Danny began to walk over, finally leaving his haunt, sitting beside Kassie and holding her small hand in his own.

“But what’s gonna happen? Are we even gonna have a home?” The youngest Bixler sibling clung to a pole with a doll's head stuck on top of it, you elected to ignore it as Ash pulled you to the side.

“Here’s the uniform, good thing you got here when you did ‘cause you and Danny took the last of that size.” Your eyes widened at his statement as Ash continued on. Danny, still holding Kass’ hand, glared at you with a twisted smile.

This confirmed the worst, he wasn’t here for a brief visit to drop off his sisters like you’d prayed, he would be a camp counselor too.

“Rota will get sorted by tonight, but all that’s really needed is some clean up jobs around camp before we open. You’re sharing with Mia in Cabin 13.” Your face lit up. Like Danny, Mia and her older brother David had been attending the camp since you were young. David, being two years older than her, became a counselor when he turned 18. You didn’t know if she would be returning this summer to do the same, the last time you’d texted she seemed reluctant to return.

“Great. Happy to do that.” Danny rolled his eyes at your enthusiasm. “Suck up.” He muttered. You chose to ignore him.

You set off towards Cabin 13, ensuring you got the first pick of the beds.

The cabin itself was small and pokey, compared to some of the other larger counselor cabins which resembled camper quarters with bunks. Considering the added privacy that came with having only one roommate, especially a roommate you were close with, the size of the cabin was fine with you.

When you arrived, you found the cabin cork board already decorated with pictures and the left bed claimed with a sports bag emptied out on the sheets. You couldn’t even waste time being dismayed that you got there second, not when you could hear Mia singing in the shower. You began unpacking everything you could and changing into your new uniform, the faster you got settled in the quicker you could get on with the fun activities.

When Mia had eventually got out of the bathroom, dark long hair damp with her new uniform on (a green and white t-shirt with the camp logo on it), she squealed as soon as she saw you.

Mia Allen was 5’2 and looked probably around 7 pounds soaking wet, give or take. Ever since she was little she’d been much smaller than the others, but what she lacked in size she made up for in her quick wit and snappy attitude.

And plus, it certainly helped that she had an older brother that could only be described as totally swoon worthy.

While at times sardonic and off putting, she was your best friend at the camp and had been for many years. Both of you being placed in the same dorm each year led to a sense of familiarity with you both. You knew each other’s habits better than anyone.

Others viewed her as troubled, with rumours of past years involving her using drugs on camp grounds or going apeshit on other campers - but you knew better. She had experienced her fair share of bad times in her life, mostly as a way of dealing with her sick mom, should she be punished for them forever? You definitely didn’t think so.

“Thank GOD Williams listened to my roomie request, I almost thought I was gonna get stuck with Olivia.” She bounces on you and embraces you within a death grip.

“I thought you and Olivia were friends?” The older girl was a medical student now but still returned each summer to help, she’d hung around you both growing up. She loved to follow the rules, with no exception or nuance to them. However, Olivia was without a doubt the most responsible of all the counselors and it meant the staff didn’t need to train her in first-aid every year.

“Um, yeah, of course we are. But I’d rather choke on my own vomit than have little miss campus police as my bunkmate. She does her own room inspections every week, David says no one even asks her to do them.” Mia rolls her eyes, going over to her bedside cabinet to put some perfume on.

“Fair enough, I’m so happy to see you. I seriously thought I’d be the only one coming back this year.” Running a hand through your hair, you watched her lean into your shared mirror and put on her earrings.

“I know, you need to tell me everything that’s happened since I last saw you. Oh my god, so much shit has happened with my mom it’s fuckin crazy, man.” She began to apply lipgloss. “Tell me about it on the way to initiation, I didn’t realise the time already!” You grab her wrist, pulling her from the cabin.

“Slow the fuck down! Listen, they won’t start without us, and we’re like two minutes away.” Mia halted your speed, wrapping an arm around your shoulder.

In the distance you could see Danny and some of the others heading towards the campfire area, or as the campers called it, The Pavilion. His head flew back with laughter at something a girl you didn’t recognise said.

“Not you literally gawking at your boy-toy.” Mia murmured, making you turn to look at her with furrowed brows. “What?”

“Yeah, you heard me. And don’t think I’m talking about Eric or Pablo, ‘cause I’m not.” She pulled out a carton of cigarettes from the pocket of her shorts, offering you one. You politely turn it down with a shake of the hand, “Maybe later.”

“This whole uhhhh I hate you so much uhhhhh I hate you too charade is so 2018. Like I wish you’d just give it a rest already and fuck it out.” Mia struggles to keep the cigarette in her mouth as she acts out her impressions of you both before lighting it. You almost choke on her words.

“What the fuck, Mia! Not cool!“

“I am literally right! Don’t think I’ve forgotten that whole truth or dare bullshit from last year.” The smaller girl took a long drag and shifted her weight on her feet, hand resting on a tree beside her.

“You shouldn’t be smoking out in the open like this - at least do it in the cabin with the shower on.” You roll your eyes and begin to power ahead to the Pavilion. “A-HA, don’t try and change the subject with me missy because you know I am not that bitch to be messed with.” Mia begins to chase after you, almost tripping while stealing glances around to make sure no one actually catches her in the act.

“Mia, I think you should quit while you’re ahead. You know my feelings towards that boy and you know none of them are pleasant.” Halting and turning to face her, she does the same with slightly more unbalanced, disjointed movements.

She takes a puff, “Yeah, I thought I knew your feelings. And then you said what you said.” She wasn’t giving up easily.

“I don’t remember what I said.”

“Bull-fucking-shit, this is like pathological liar level. You’re gaslighting me, man!” She waves her arms around manically with wide eyes, obviously trying to tease you. Giving her one last begging look, she stubs the cigarette out. “Fine. But we’re talking about this later.”

With that, she powers on in front of you. It’s as if the nicotine has given her enough energy to run a marathon as she determinedly stomps towards the campfire.

That game of truth or dare had been a drunken mishap at the secret end of year party. You had both managed to score an invite thanks to David, and by association Danny had been invited by Eric. Olivia was too buzzed on wine coolers to feel the need to kick you out, so you managed to spend most of the night there. Mia’s drunk alter-ego ‘the Abomination’ eventually appeared which led to you and David escorting her back to the girls dorm in the early hours.

You had been asked by a drunken Mia, the absolute fucking menace that she was, if you had to spend a night in bed with any of the boys who would it be? Immediately without thinking, in your own intoxicated state, you answered Danny.

Before you could even realise the deeper implications of the question, you immediately attempted to justify your answer by stating that you had shared a bunk for years and didn’t kill each other during that time.

She had teased you in front of the entire group, in your own state of embarrassment you had failed to notice Danny’s wide eyes and rosy cheeks.

But the teasing was over quickly with Mia throwing her entire guts up in front of everyone, leading David to jump back onto his feet and promptly drag her from the scene, requesting that you help carry her legs.

What you’d failed to tell Mia, tell anyone for that matter, is that despite your answer to her question, you and David shared a kiss.

It was behind the cabin after you both dragged her back in her drunken state, you hoped all its occupants would be sound asleep. He’d looked at you with a glimmer in his eye, his testing patience, seeing who would make the first move.

Both of you had been dangerously towing a flirtatious line all summer, a line that you’d been tiptoeing on for probably the past nine years prior.

It had never ever been a possibility before, you were his kid sister’s best friend. You were just you. But here he was looking at you like that.

Do you regret it in hindsight? Sure, but you hardly remember it. Your heart was beating so fast you thought it might break out of your chest like that little creature from Alien. The moist summer air of the early morning clinging to your skin, a strong hand on the low of your back. Pressed tight chest to chest, a forbidden taste.

You jumped apart at the sound of the snapping of sticks by god knows what.

You parted with wide eyes and uncertainty rising in your chest. He placed a gentle hand on your cheek.

“I’ll speak to you tomorrow, yeah?” You nodded, a smile growing. The start of something new blossoming.

David and Mia were gone by the time you woke up, you had assumed David had driven them off specifically so you both didn’t need to address any drunken awkwardness from the previous night. Mia wouldn’t have opposed, with her hangover probably kicking in tenfold.

All that was left in his departure was a letter saying that he’d see you next summer and that you should call him when you got home if you wanted to pick up where you left off, with a phone number left under the statement. You text the number, leaving him with a message.

hey david,

last night was a mistake. it was a plain and simple heat of the moment mistake - as much as I’d like to start again, i can’t do that to mia.

You sent ‘i’m sorry.’ when you didn’t receive a reply after a month.

Quite frankly, you were dreading seeing him far more than Danny. With Danny at least, you knew that whatever you had said last year had gone right past his head (or atleast you thought it had). Danny wouldn’t pass up an opportunity to make you squirm, surely?

Honestly, now that you had been able to think it through - you wouldn’t be opposed to starting where you left off with David, the whole him being your friend’s brother thing aside. He was handsome, kind, and popular around camp. He’d looked out for you since, like, forever and you trusted him. If you were searching for a summer fling David would certainly be your go-to.

But whatever. If nothing happened, nothing happened, especially after the text you sent him. You could play this totally cool, right? It was just David. Stupidly hot David, with his constant tan and his almost annoyingly unwavering warm demeanour. You still remembered the first time you saw that smile. You were eight and he was ten, you fell down and scraped your knee during a group activity. He ran to you before any counsellors could even get to you.

“You’re okay.” A hand reached out, you grabbed it. And there was that smile. A smile you could trust. Yeah, maybe you were gonna be okay.

It was undeniable how he made you feel. Your legs turned to jelly everytime you laid eyes on him, you felt like such a ditz. But the presence of Mia complicated everything. You couldn’t do that to her. It would be too weird. Unless, you kept it a secret? A secret summer fling could be exactly what you need. Why did you have to send that damn text?

But then ultimately, he was just safe. Despite his attractiveness, all of the passion of the fling would be mostly fuelled by his relation to Mia, and if you’re being honest that was a line you did not want to cross with her. If she even found out that you both had kissed it’d be game over.

You’re snapped out of your thoughts by Mia calling your name.

“Are you even listening? Wait up, I have little legs!” She was significantly behind you now, struggling to keep up with your pace as you unconsciously powered ahead in front of her. “Sorry Mia, my inner volume was too loud, I guess.”

She squints, smirks before tapping your arm. “Yeah and we all know exactly who you’re thinking about.” Your eyes widen.

“Dann-”

“No.”

Barging past her again, the Pavilion now in sight, both of you being the only two left to arrive.

While the overall area has rows of structured seating comparable to wooden bleachers facing a stage, for more intimate occasions such as this there were stools placed closer to the stage.

“Fashionably late as always, you too. First strike.” Ash attempted to chase away flies with his prosthetic hand, shooting her a stern look. “Hey- what the hell? What happened to a friendly camper hello?” She resigned herself to the first tree stump available in front of you, beside her brother. You could only see his back and still you could feel the butterflies going wild inside you.

“You forfeit that when you come back here as a counselor. You’re being paid for this, this is a job. Stay. On. Time.” You swallow, taking the seat near Danny. He’s whispering something to Eric, but your eyes still meet.

Neither of you break but both of you wonder who will be the first to.

You pick up on things that have changed since last summer. His hair, chestnut again after a brief bleach blonde stint. You didn’t know what he suited more, you liked both.

You almost mentally slapped yourself for thinking that. But it was hard to not think how actually kinda attractive Danny was in staring competition moments like this. His eyes had such a mischievous glint in them that begged you for more, egged you on like what you were doing was so, so wrong.

Your cheeks grow heated and you can’t bare to stare any longer, losing the silent game.

“Okay, Bridget and Kassie will be staying here with us a few days early. That’s okay. Just make sure you’re on best behaviour at all time big kids, make sure you’re doing your job and looking after the little ones.” Bridget rolls her eyes at his words. She’s fifteen and thinks she can take on the world single handedly. Kassie looks a little less sure, resigning herself to staring at the ground and kicking some wood chippings at her feet.

“Cheryl, you wanna take it from here?” Director Williams turns to his sister, who appears by his side. “Sure thing, I’ve sorted the camp rota.”

You glance back at Danny, his eyes still on you. He smirks. You feel like you’re on fire. Turning away from him again to look where you had been so desperately avoiding, you see David glance at you. He smiles softly when he realises you’ve caught him, sending a slight wave. You don’t hesitate to return it, hearing a Danny sounding scoff coming from the opposite direction.

Cheryl goes over your duties for the next few weeks, you’re placed in arts and crafts with Mia and Danny. And a new girl who’d never attended this camp prior, Natalie. You assumed it was the girl walking with Danny earlier, now sitting timidly beside Eric.

Great.

Mia you could handle, and you could probably even handle Danny alone too. But Mia’s unrelenting urge to tease you for your misspoken words and Danny’s eyes that seemingly bore into your soul at every chance was going to be a challenge in combination.

Your face must’ve immediately read your exasperation, as Cheryl reassured “Don’t worry, usually it’ll just be two of you in for activities. You guys will be mixed and matched.” Your shoulders sunk in relief, not even realising how tense you had suddenly become.

Your ear is met with the soft whisper of Danny. “Don’t look too excited.”

“Bite me.” You hiss back, he grins with wild eyes, like he enjoys the way you’re speaking to him.

“Hey assholes! And I can call you that now because you’re adults. I better see no fighting, no nothing, or else this year - got it?” More Ash than director Williams warns, you nod.

“I’ll try sir, but she’s the issue.” The boy points at you, false sincerity in his voice. You bite your tongue, giving Ash a look that portrays your frustration.

“Whatever. Seriously, I’m watching you two.” Ash points at the both of you, Danny rolls his eyes. Eric and Mia make a quiet ‘ooooooooh’ noise and then laugh at their accidental timing.

Eric was the same age as David, and his childhood best friend, although you had noticed that they had drifted apart. He was as sarcastic as they come, but knew when to shut up and be serious. He’d been growing out his hair for the past few summers, it now resting just at his collarbone.

He’d taken Danny under his wing when he got moved to the boy’s dorm, it was common that one would be seen the other around camp.

After a few more ground rules were laid out, Ash reminded you that you are now the adults in charge and that any responsibility will be put on you.

“Oh and by the way. This is Natalie, she’s new. I know you all grew up together but please make her feel welcome, yeah?” Cheryl put her hand on the girl’s shoulder, Natalie waving timidly.

She was so effortlessly pretty you didn’t know if you wanted to cry or roll your eyes.

With that, you were free to spend the last night free before your jobs started the next day. As everyone was departing, you notice David eyeing the new girl, who stands like a spare prick as Cheryl inaudibly talks to her. He leaves with Pablo and Olivia after taking a second glance.

There’s those damn butterflies again.

Mia wraps an arm around you and drags you in the opposite direction, heading to your own cabin. You pass Danny, who winks before sending you a sarcastic kiss. You respond with a middle finger.

—

The first few days go smoothly, managing to stay out of any drama. Everyone is seemingly too tired to really interact with each other outside of your shared meals in the mess hall, all of you still adjusting to being in a foreign home.

Drop off day was longer and more tedious than the previous days, an earlier rise than the already early mornings at Camp Kandar. Buses filling the parking lot, hurried parents ushering kids out of cars, kisses goodbye. A floury of campers old and new dragging their luggage behind them in the chaos of sorting cabins. Camp reception was even more packed than before with parents handing off medication and bus drivers piling up all the forgotten items from their respective vehicles.

When the kids arrived, you were kind of ecstatic, seeing everybody arrive from a different angle than you ever had before, remembering how nervous you had been each year on drop-off day.

The camp entrance itself, aside from the parking lot and reception, welcomed campers in with a large arch that displayed the camp’s name proudly. From here, past the reception, led to a large open ground shaped in a circle.

If you kept walking straight, the mess hall was in front with extra benches set up outside for the good weather. To the left, through the trees were the camper dorms. Scattered throughout the many acres, it was common for the little ones to get lost.

Just beyond that were the staff and counselor cabins, with Ash’s being the furthest out of them all. On the opposite end of the camp was the activity field and the lake. It was pretty simple to get around, but the prospect of getting lost in the surrounding woods was intimidating.

Bridget ran towards a group of teens, who welcomed her with open arms. It was odd to think that in a few years they potentially would be the camp counsellors, and you and your peers would be off in the world doing all types of grown up shit. Goodbye adolescence forever.

Your heart dropped when you saw Kassie standing to the side awkwardly, clutching her stick with the doll head on it. For the past few days she had kind of kept to herself while Bridget had helped with the bigger jobs setting up camp. Slowly approaching her, you decided to strike up a conversation.

“Cool doll, what’s it’s name?” You gently poked it, her face lighting up at someone talking to her. Because she was little, it was hard for her to be included like her older sister aside from odd jobs Ash would send her on. Things like sending her to the Pavilion to find the biggest pine cone, or seeing how many laps she could do around the activity grounds.

“Staffanie. I made her, so she can protect me, and scare off anything scary in the woods. Danny says there’s monsters here.” Kassie explains timidly, a shy smile growing slowly.

“She’s cool, hiya Staffanie.” You return the smile, she waves the doll head as if to make her say hello.

“She says hello back.” After a nice lull, she turns to watch a group of kids her own age stand and talk to each other, obviously knowing each other outside of camp.

“I was really scared my first year here too.” You bend down to get to her level. “Really?”

“Yeah, really, it was super hard at first. But then I met Mia and it was all okay.” The little girl looks doubtful. “I don’t know, I think people think I’m weird.”

“Well that makes two of us kiddo. Listen, you’ve got Danny and Bridget to help you out,” Before you can finish she interjects. “That doesn’t count, they're related to me.”

She was right technically. “Yeah, but they’re not required to be nice to you, are they? David and Mia are related and they barely hang out.” You point towards them, on opposite sides of the area, David calming down a crying mother clutching onto her uninterested child. Mia was poking the ground with a stick.

“I guess.” Kassie was still hesitant, head racing with thoughts of what was really going on back home. Her mom thought she’d done enough to protect her from the startling reality of the impending divorce, and in a way she had. Kassie was sure that everything would be fine between her parents, only really worrying about losing their family home.

But even the thought of being at this camp, making no friends and then coming back to nothing was terrifying to the young girl. And it was a reality that a girl her age shouldn’t have to face.

“Kassie, I’m gonna be brutally honest with you. I think you’re gonna have the best summer ever.”

After a moment, Kassie turned with a smile. “You really think so?” You couldn’t help but return it. “I know so, pal.”

It was harrowing, it was like seeing your younger self in a way. Coming here was no easy feat. Sure, the activities were nice and you settled in eventually, but that scary feeling doesn’t really go away even after all these years.

“I’m Kassie, by the way.”

“I’m Y/N.”

Her face lit up. “Wait, I know who you are!”

“Well we have spent the last few days together so I did hope that you would have known my name by now honestly-”

“You’re the girl Danny always talks about! You’re his friend!” Kassie kind of bounces around, her new found enthusiasm infectious but her statement alarming. Not wanting to burst her bubble after seeing her so gloom for the past few days, with a stiff smile you offer a nod.

“I remember all the stories from when you used to share a bunk! Wow, I hope I get a bunk mate just like you!” You aren’t quite sure what she’s talking about, as most of your time bunking with Danny involved arguing about his snoring and your constant shifting above him.

“Yeah, fingers crossed.” You mimicked your own words, she copied you.

“And I can teach them the secret bunk code that you taught Danny, ‘cause Danny taught me!” A stab in the heart. You’d forgotten about that.

You developed a quiet knocking, humming and scraping system to have conversations with each other. It’d been one of those silly kid things you just stop thinking about when you have your first kiss or learn to drive. You can’t really even remember what you used to talk about in the quiet moments of the night when you weren’t bickering.

“We taught each other, just like you and your bunk mate will make up new words. Just go with the flow and you’ll have a great time.”

Kassie nods, more than cheered up from the conversation. “I’ll remember that. Gosh, I hope I get put on your team for the games!”

“Yeah, me too kiddo.” A girl around Kassie’s age stands alone at the drop off point just beyond the arch of Camp Kandar. Her eyes scan the scene in front of her, campers overwhelmingly conversing in their individual cliques. Nudging Kassie, you point in her direction.

“Why not go say hi to her? I think it might be her first day too.” The youngest Bixler-Sutherland sibling nods, and takes a deep breath.

“Kass, if it doesn’t go well I’m right here.” You crouch to her level, placing a reassuring hand on her shoulder. You knew exactly what she was thinking right now, as if this one interaction would determine her ability to make friends this summer.

With one last optimistic look, she trots off with Staffanie in tow.

“You givin’ my sister your shitty advice?” Danny’s voice catches you off guard, him appearing behind you as you watch Kassie from afar.

“Better than anything you’ve offered her the past few days clearly.” You don’t bother to turn to look at him, but you can feel his chin almost hovering in the crook of your left shoulder. His body, while not at all touching yours, feels close.

“Ouch, scout. And here I thought you were giving me flirty eyes at the first meeting the other day.”

“You fucking wish, Bixler.” He seems unfazed at your use of only one of his last names. In the distance, Kassie seemed to be explaining Staffanie to the other girl, who giggled and pet the doll head awkwardly.

Turning your head to face him, you’re almost caught off guard at how close he is.

“Kassie was talking about all the stories you’ve been telling about me.” His eyes flash with alarm for a moment, you have to stop yourself from laughing at the sight. Danny’s attempt to catch you off guard disrupted by your own secret weapon.

“Just the shit from when we were kids, before you become an intolerable bitch.” He stepped back, strutting in front of you.

“Well atleast I’m a bitch and not a complete moron, like you.” He sucks in a breath and scoffs. “This moron’s gonna beat your ass in the challenge teams this year.”

“Not if we’re on the same team, dipshit.”

“Pablo told Eric who told me that you’re in red team. I’m blue team, scout.” He circles you like a shark smelling blood for the first time, your eyes stay trained on him.

“How the fuck does Pablo know? Why would director Williams or Cheryl put us on opposite teams? Isn’t that just begging for trouble?” Your hands raise to rest on your hips, fists clenching.

“‘Cause maybe Pablo’s tight with Ash and Ash sorts the teams ‘cause Cheryl does rota. I was in red team but Eric asked to swap places and I said yes so I could be on the opposite team from you.” This bastard, always testing you. Always looking for a fight. Always needing to win.

“Why the fuck would you do that?” Knuckles white, this was all going to backfire on you specifically.

His taunting grin begged you to lose your temper.

“‘Cause it makes us better. Why be just good at working together when we could be even better tearing each other apart?” There was that closeness thing again, him getting up in your personal space. This was all a stupid intimidation tactic and you weren’t going to let it slide.

“When director Williams calls it out he won’t let you switch, even if Eric asks.” Something was going on here, more than what he was letting on. His eyes take a dangerous glance at your lips, he was playing dirty.

It wasn’t like you thought of him in that way anyway, nor he with you surely. Ultimately, he infuriated you.

Though, anyone would admit he was in great shape. Chiselled jawline and soft blue eyes that would make anyone swoon. He was attractive and you had shared a bunk with him, it was inevitable you would potentially form a deep attachment to him, you supposed. It’s definitely not like you had thought about him in the heat of the night in the safety of your own room, miles and miles away from camp. It was a hundred percent not like you had ever, ever replayed your most heated debates in your head, thinking about how breathless he could make you feel.

Fuck Danny Bixler-Sutherland.

“Don’t be so sure, they can’t reject a team transfer as long as someone on the other team volunteers a switch, it's against camp rules.” He backed away, hands held up in surrender. That stupid fuckin grin still on his mouth.

“Plus, Mia would be a far better teammate than you.” And with that he leaves you.

You couldn’t get his words out of your head.

What the fuck was he planning? Would Eric stoop so low to be involved in some stupid plot to have you guys in prime fighting positions? What was he getting out of this?

Stumbling across the sea of new campers to get to Mia, a plan quickly trying to form in your head.

“Mia, I need to call in a favour.” She dropped the stick at the mention of her name, pretending that she had actually been busy the full time.

“Fuck no, baby.”

“Pretty, pretty please with a cherry on top?” Mia crossed her arms. “What is it?”

“You need to swap teams with me.”

“How do you know we’re on opposite teams?” Her position unchanging, eyes burning into your soul as if you were breaking the rules somehow.

“Danny might’ve let something slip, he’s in my team and wants to change with Eric so we can be competing, but I don’t wanna do that.” She glances over your shoulder at Danny’s current location, beginning to guide the campers to their assigned cabins.

“How does he know this?” You roll your eyes, scratching your forehead. “It’s a long story, but please Mia, I’m begging you - I need to beat him at his own game.”

Mia stands for a moment, watching the boy, before smiling and looking back at you.

“This is ‘cause you wanna spend more time with him isn’t it?”

“Whatever the fuck helps you sleep at night.” You cannot let her win this foolish debate she’s created in her head.

“Sure thing, I’ll swap I guess.”

—

You had completely zoned out of the induction campfire ceremony. It’s mandatory every year anyway, aimed at the campers specifically. You weren’t missing much. This team shit was driving you crazy, as soon as Ash coughed up that it was time for the counselor sorting ceremony you shot upright. Across the seating area you could see Eric nudge Danny, who barely acknowledged him.

“Okay guys, team red. Okay people here we go. Olivia, Y/N-”

“I wanna swap teams.” You stood up.

Some of the campers ooooooed at your exclamation, Olivia scoffed. “What’s so bad about my team?” You turned to her, apology written all over your face.

You couldn’t swap if you didn’t have someone to swap with, you knew this. But if Mia came in clutch then you also knew that Eric wanted to be on the red team for some reason, so no matter what he would swap with Danny.

“We’ve not even finished reading out the rest of your teammates.” Director Williams answers with an irritated tone, and honestly, rightfully so. You were being difficult.

“Blue is usually my team, c’mon Williams we know this.” Much to his chagrin, you are right. “Well, seeing as we’ve not even called out blue team members, how is anyone gonna swap with you?” All eyes on you, intimidating you more than you cared to admit.

Luckily, Mia came right to your rescue.

“I’ll swap with her.” She stands proud, like she’s testifying to the court.

The fingers on his prosthetic hand scratch his nose, for a second you wonder how it would feel to have such an appendage. His hand had been gone longer than you’d been alive apparently, the camp legend was that it got torn off by a bear in the camp outskirts when Ash was a counselor here himself.

“How the hell did you know you were on the other team?”

“Last year you warned us we spoke too much when we’re together at these things, I thought this year you’d want to keep us separated.” Mia’s excuse didn’t really make any sense, seeing as he had allowed them to share a cabin, but she was right in saying that when they were partnered up they did not shut the fuck up. “Red’s more my color anyway.”

The older man shrugged. “Swap accepted, I suppose.

That was that.

“Shall we continue? Okay, red team. Olivia, Mia, Danny, Sheila and Eric. C’mere.”

Your heart dropped.

What the actual fuck.

Even Mia turned to you in confusion as she began to walk down to the stage with the rest of her team.

Danny must have known all along that Eric wasn’t actually going to swap, he’d done this to throw you off his trail. If anything happens between you two it’s your fault for the switch over now.

But why? Why was he so desperate to manipulate you like that? If it had gone wrong at any point, if you had chosen to stay on the team, who would he have swapped with? Maybe Pedro was in on it too, but looking at him now he seemed even more zoned out than you were.

Danny’s eyes found yours in the crowd, you were instantly reminded of all the other types of shit like this he’d pulled in the years prior. You felt like a total idiot for causing a scene, tears threatening to fall.

“Blue team, let’s go! David, Y/N, Pedro, Natalie and Kelly.”

David. He’d completely slipped your mind.

Fuck this shit.

You couldn’t even turn to look at Danny through the rest of the sorting of the teams, not able to face his stupid smug face that you knew would be looking at you. Why did he have to be such a headfuck all the time?

The full thing kept playing on your mind even when you were back in your cabin with Mia. She was smoking a cigarette, leaning out of the bathroom window. Head in your hands, you sat on the closed lid of the toilet.

“Thank fuck we have our own toilets now, jesus, could you imagine only being able to use the fuckin shared one?”

“We still have to clean all the cubicles when it’s our shift, a private toilet just adds one more toilet onto that.”

She inhales the cigarette for a moment, letting it hit her lungs. Even with the window open it still stunk.

“Yeah, but like atleast it’s our toilet. I’d happily clean your piss on the daily over the combined piss of like 60 something kids.” Mia looks different with the moonlight on her face. Her eyes, kind of buggish normally, seem even bigger. Sometimes she looks like a different person, you think.

“From everything I know, I really thought he liked you.” She murmured, flicking the butt out the window when she finished. “I tried to warn you.” You look at her through your hands. She sinks down onto the tiled floor of the shower.

“Just so weird, right? Like what could he have gotten out of that?” Mia stares off to a point in the corner of the room, in contemplation. “I don’t even get why you don’t like each other. You both used to get along so well.”

You’d heard it all before, and your constant avoidance of the question came from the fact that quite honestly you didn’t even know how to answer it.

“All I know is that I’m gonna get him back tenfold.”

She smirks at you. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.”

—

For your arts and crafts block that week, you’d been assigned with Natalie. She was nice enough, kind of quiet but sweet with the kids. She’d spent most of her time asking you where things were. As far as you could tell, she was older. Probably not by much, at least around the same age as Olivia, David and Eric. She was from Salt Lake City, which you thought was a little far to come all the way to camp, but you didn’t judge her too much for it. It’s good to get away from home sometimes.

Kassie had indeed been placed on your team. Telling her that you were confident that with her and Staffanie on the team, you’d beat anything her brother threw at you both earned a giggle from her.

Another surprise was Bridget being placed on your team. She kept to herself or her friends mostly, but was more outspoken than a lot of the other teens.

Bridget had been attending camp the past few years since she turned 8, so you were more familiar with her than Kassie. In saying that, the age gap did mean that neither of you had really spoken to each other, especially as you weren’t a counselor before.

Each week, the teams would participate in challenges. Kids would file into the pavilion in their respective team colours, carrying makeshift posters and signs they had made during arts and crafts.

Waves of red and blue lining the wooden bleachers, allowing you to zone out while Danny lingered in your line of vision.

A soft hand to the low of your back, you jump. David waits with a smile and a water bottle on offer.

“Hey.” You soften, tucking a loose hair behind your ear.

“Hey, barely got a chance to catch up with you

since we got here. How you doing, kiddo?” The hand moves to your shoulder, a tinge of disappointment rushing through you. Another nickname, albeit a well meaning one, but one you still held in disdain.

“Not too bad, I've been busy keeping your sister out of trouble.” He chuckles, the famous David Allen smile appears. “I don’t know what she’d do without you.”

An earnest pause, but also a dangerous one.

“Listen David-“

“About last summer-“ Interrupting each other before either could make their point, and yet both so obviously on the same wavelength. The kiss.

“You go first.” His arms fold in a polite defeat. God, the bastard just oozed charm.

“Just wanted to address what happened last summer, between us. Just incase you felt uneasy or something it doesn’t have to be anything big if you don’t want it to be.” Heat rising in your chest, you felt like a stupid idiot with a school girl crush.

As if he could read your own thoughts, David placed his hand on your forearm. “Don’t beat yourself up over it.”

Danny lingered from afar, no stranger to the occasional glance your way. He almost scowled when he saw your company.

You wanted to mention the text, you wanted to ask why he never said anything. Why he didn’t reply. But David simply rubbed your arm, “We don’t need to talk about it.”

A sigh escapes your lips, one you hadn’t even realised you were holding in. “Cool.”

The first challenge passes by fairly simply, despite Danny’s obvious attempts to wind you up. He was a competitive fucker, that’s for sure.

Team Blue manages to take the win for the night, with the kids chanting David’s name. He runs up to you, sweating profusely and yet managing to effortlessly appear like he was a vampire from Twilight instead of someone who just won a game of dodgeball.

“Great work kiddo, my second in command.” A grin appears, one that you can’t help but mimic knowing finewell that you spent the full game preoccupied with Danny.

From the corner of your eye, you could see Eric nudge Mia with a smug smile and whispered in her ear. She looked at you immediately and grinned, the worried pit immediately returned in your stomach.

She skips towards you, with Eric retreating to Danny who stands on the sidelines looking a bit misplaced.

“Guess who’s going to a party tonight?” Mia offers you two thumbs up and does a shuffling dance, that only manages to kick up dirt and makes you cough.

“The Abomination?”

“Okay, fuck you. Us! They’re having a party outside the woods. Dude, our own counselor party!” It had been something you’d spoken about for years, but you felt the effect had been lessened after last year's antics.

“I don’t know, Mia. I want to take this next challenge seriously and-”

“And what? All the tension from today will mean nothing when we’ll all be hungover tomorrow, group bonding?” You tried to find another excuse. “What about the kids?”

“Girl, fuck the kids! I want to party.” All you could do was answer with an awkward shrug, which she took for total defeat.

“YAAAAY. Okay, quick, we have like 2 hours to get ready-” Mia grabs your wrist and pulls you in the direction of your cabin, Danny standing on the hill watching you as you go by. If you weren’t so nervous about the prospect of being at the party with David and trying to listen to Mia, you’d think he was checking you out.

“You better be there, Scout!” Eric calls after you both as you pass, Danny’s head dipping beside him seemingly finding the ground extremely interesting right now. “Suck my ass, Eric!” He howled in response, earning a fit of laughter from you and Mia.

—

The winding path, illuminated with random lanterns left by partying campers long ago, seemed to go on forever. The prospect of getting absolutely shit faced at the end of the trail after a long week of ensuring the safety of screaming kids, patching up old equiptment and cleaning up actual shit was what kept the counsellors of Camp Kandar going.

The transition between the July weather and August’s own was usually indistinguishable, but tonight was particularly breezy. Regardless, the blazing campfire your colleagues crowded around gave a small amount of relief.

Cheap bottles of liquor and red solo cups, firebright light and wine coolers left discarded on the forest floor in favour of roaming hands on dancing teens. There was almost something melancholic about it all, one day they’d well and truly grow out of this forever. The fleeting fun of camp summer, the spontaneity of beers in the woods on a lukewarm summer night.

David strummed lazily on a dark cherry coloured guitar, you almost wanted to roll your eyes at how it looked like he’d stepped right out of a young adult rom com.

“I don’t get what you see in him.” Danny appears, housing a beer you can’t quite decipher the brand name of. You can feel his judgement despite his eyes also watching the older boy at the other side of the fire, unaware to his dueling voyeurs.

“What are you talking about?” He licked his lips, letting out a scoffing almost laugh at your reply.

“You never suited acting stupid, Scout. But then again, are as predictable as a Chainsmokers song.”

Fingers clenching around your cup filled with god knows what, how dare he? It took everything you had in you to show restraint and now throw its contains over his loose fitting tank top and cargo shorts. He was dressed like every female gaze dream skater boy forever immortalised on countless Pinterest boards - and yet you were the predictable one apparently.

“Why do you have to be such a fucking dick all of the goddamned time? You’re insane.”

“I’m not the one sleeping with my best friend’s brother.” Wide eyes snap to his, still burning holes into David’s skull across the fire with a tinge of unnoticed envy.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” The clench around the red cup switches from anger to fear. He could always read her better than anyone. He finally looks at you, his blue eyes somehow welcome despite the venom you shot at each other. A pit in your stomach started to burn as if someone was inside digging it themself.

“You know exactly what I’m talking about. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be getting this reaction. All I’ll say is don’t waste your time on him.” You could feel your eyes roll back, here he was backtracking trying to act like he was helping you again. No way were you falling for it again.

“I can spend time with whoever I want to. You’re just jealous that without alcohol I can’t hang around you without social distancing myself at all times.” You down the rest of your cup, just trying to keep your shaking hands preoccupied.

He shrugs. “Maybe I am.” His gaze shifts back to the rim of the beer. He contemplates copying your action and downing it as well. “Or maybe I just don’t give a shit ‘cuz I won’t even be around to see the fallout when you fuck it all up next year.”

Your turn to look at the boy again, taking in his frame for a moment. His hunched demeanour doesn’t read like he’s telling a joke or trying to wind you up.

“W-what?”

“Yeah, this is my last year. My parents are getting a divorce and my mom can’t afford to take us here anymore. And everything that was saved for my collage fund is getting put into the divorce. Surprise!” Danny uncannily laughs, clearly highlighting just how rotten the situation is.

“And it’s so fucked because we’re moving away and Bridge and Kass are leaving their entire lives behind and they’ll never get to experience this and they barely even know that we’re never going home again and it’s all just so so fucked-”

“Danny…. I didn’t know.”

“Yeah, why the fuck would you I don’t even know why I’m telling you this-” He starts to dab at his eyes and make a hurried exit before you reach out and grab his wrist.

When you look into his eyes you see that same boy from the first year you bunked together. The boy that was scared of the dark, the boy that was chatty and so eager to be outdoors yet scared of the wilderness. You see little Danny, all alone in the big bad scary world with no parents to really protect him, as much as his mom was trying. You felt like you couldn’t breathe. You never knew he was going through anything this serious.

“Wanna go on a walk right now?”

You expect him to tell you to fuck off and storm away, or cast some snarky remark about David. He just nods slowly. “Let me just tell Eric where I’m going.”

“Cool, I’ll get you at the carving tree.” He kind of fumbles a nod and scurries to find the older boy.

You turn and David is behind you like a jumpscare, you’re unable to hide a yelp. He laughs and places a hand on your forearm, you grow tense - mind too preoccupied with Danny. “Everything okay? I know you and Bixler are kind of neck and neck, I’d hate for him to spoil the party for you.”

Glancing back at the blonde boy as he searches for Eric, a tinge of guilt pierces through. “It’s fine, I can handle him.

“Well if you ever wanted me to say anything to him, let me know.” He shrugged, guitar still resting over him.

“I actually had something to ask you.” The liquid courage was saying it was now or never, and if it all went wrong you could escape into the woods with Danny who would probably be feeling even worse than you.

“Uh-huh?”

Here goes nothing.

“Today, when you said we shouldn’t talk about the kiss or whatever. I just wanted to ask what changed your mind after you left that note on my pillow?” David’s face is unreadable.

“What?”

“And yeah, I’m sorry if the text I sent was brutal and I won’t lie and say I’ve not thought about the kiss a lot. But I don’t know man, just help me here.” It almost sounds like a rant as the words escape your mouth, David raising an eyebrow in retaliation.

“Well I’ll try and help you out, I don’t know what you’re speaking about.” He seems dumbfounded, an expression you’ve never seen cross him.

“The text. The note. You left me a note, did you not?” Hands trembling, you wish you had it with you in the chance it would somehow completely restart his memory.

“I left with Mia. I needed to get out of there, it was crazy and intense, and kinda good, but like totally wrong.” He moves you to the side, speaking in hushed tones as if it was an affair on par with JFK and Marilyn and not a stupid drunken kiss.

“And then I texted you.”

“No you didn’t, I don’t even have your number. Show me your phone.” The device feels like a brick from the Great Wall of China when you pull it out of your pocket. You try your best to hide your uneasy fingers when you scroll to the conversation, a silent prayer that you didn’t delete it.

There it was plain as day. It was a real conversation. He lightly grabs the phone off you, still holding it at a level that you can both see it. He taps on the contact and stares for a moment.

“Kiddo, I am so sorry. I don’t know who the hell this could be ‘cause that’s not my number.” David peels his own phone out his back pocket and shows his own contact. He was right, the number was completely different.

“I promise I don’t have a second phone as well, and I’ve never changed it. Not since I was like 13 and you still had a Motorola Razr, remember those?” He smiles, going back into a personality mode similar to a dad or grandfather. You weren’t going to lie and say it wasn’t giving you the ick.

All you could do was nod.

“Nevermind, I guess.” He parts with a pat on the shoulder like he was your sports teammate. And technically that’s all he was. A teammate, a friend's brother.

You turn in the direction of the carving tree, Danny stands in the distance. The stomach pit returns, you wish the digger would just go on strike.

All you can do is collect your thoughts for a moment and prepare yourself for the trip ahead, ensuring to grab a bottle of vodka from the ground as you approach him.

#danny evil dead rise #evil dead rise #danny evil dead rise x reader #danny evil dead #danny evil dead x reader #evil dead #evil dead smut #evil dead x reader #morgan davies #danny x reader #evil dead 2013 #evil dead fic #david allen #mia allen

[alienguts]

Belated Valentine's Day (Ash Williams x GN!Reader HCs)

Warnings: none

A/N: so, i was so busy writing something else for valentine's day that i didn't finish in time i forgot to write anything for this blog. oops.

Ash isn't always good with dates

He'll remember your birthday, his own birthday, Halloween, Christmas and the 4th of July, but holidays that he doesn't consider to be that important are almost always forgotten about

Unless the two of you make definite Valentine's plans, he will forget that it's a holiday that exists

He's in the camp of 'it was invented by Hallmark to sell greetings cards' (even though the first Valentine's card was sent hundreds of years before Hallmark existed) but if you get him something for Valentine's Day, he will get you something in return

he makes sure to get home from work before you do so he can get things ready

he bought one of those weird heart-shaped steaks with his staff discount and the cheapest wine he could find, and ran a bath for the two of you with some bath salts even though he doesn't know what they're supposed to do

unfortunately, ash is more of a shower person than a bath person so when you come home, he's lounging in lukewarm water that's spilling over the side of the tub, beckoning you to join him

'happy valentine's, baby' 'ash, valentine's day was two days ago' 'doesn't mean i can't still do things for you'

before you get in, you make sure to drain some of the water out so you can put more hot water in

if it wasn't for the fact that his skin gets all pruney, ash would stay in the tub with you until it went cold just to be naked with you

although he could be naked anywhere with you, being in the tub together makes you physically closer to him

once you get out of the tub, you'll make dinner together

ash will likely insist on making it himself as a treat for you, but he can barely be trusted with a microwave

after dinner you'll likely stay in since you'll be wearing pyjamas or robes and you'll see where the night takes you

he promises to remember next year, but chances are he won't

(not that it matters anyway, your anniversary is more important)

#ash williams x reader #ash x reader #ash williams imagine #ash williams headcanons #evil dead x reader #evil dead imagine #evil dead headcanons #evil dead fic #x reader #self ship #x you #gender neutral reader #*headcanons #*my writing

[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

[bunnystalker]

feline delight (18+)

albert finds you on the streets. too cute to pass up, he takes you home against your will.

a/n; sorry this took so long! hope it was worth the wait :D

cw; half-alive dove maybe eat, cat hybrid!reader, afab!reader, owner!wesker, kidnapping, captivity, stockholm syndrome, drugging, dubcon/noncon, body betrayal, leashing + collaring, reader doesn't wear underwear, manhandling, breeding kink, wesker likes seeing you in pain sorry, no prep (please prep irl), unsafe sex (p in v, clitoral stimulation, creampie, implied multiple rounds)

tags; @4inchfae @thatgirlgames @whiskers-my-beloved @icecream596

albert never had a penchant for pets, let alone a hybrid like yourself. bringing you in may have been the best thing he'd done in years. you needed a home desperately, regardless of how much you scratched and clawed at him when he'd carried you off to his research facility without so much as an introduction. you hear him rustle around in his pockets with one hand and then, the uncapping of something. before you can look at what it is, a fine needle pierces right into the muscle of your neck. your vision fades within seconds, and you stop scratching.

˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖

you didn't know what to expect, but waking up in a cage clean and clothed hadn't been on your list. you thought you'd surely be dead. but, there you were, with a black long sleeve shirt and skirt, thigh-highs adorning the better half of your legs, and a black leather collar around your neck. looking around, a small bell attached to your collar rings. not moments later, you hear footsteps. you look up at the man who has taken you in- tall, blonde, and very intimidating.

albert crouches before the kennel you're cowering in and looks you over as if he didn't get a good enough look when he bathed you. you hiss quietly and shrink into one of the corners furthest from him, cool metal digging into your back with each attempt to get further away.

behind his shades, his hazel eyes thoroughly examine you. the fear you give off is aromatic with a faintly sweet undertone of something more. gratefulness, perhaps. he did bathe you, clothe you, and put you in a very nice kennel of your own. your collar is a perfect fit, no less, and even though you didn't ask for any of this, it's more than you know what to do with. you've no bruises, no gashes, no injuries. how strange.

he's pondering what to say to get you to calm down. to trust him a little. maybe come out of the kennel, but that would be for later.

"hello." he places a gloved hand on the kennel's top rather carefully, so as not to startle you, and leans in just a bit. his voice is nicer than you would think. a bit nasally, sure, and the accent is cheesy, but he could read you the yellow pages and you wouldn't mind.

"…" your silence makes his jaw clench by a fraction. he'll have to fix that. for now, he'll ease you into things.

"what's your name, little one?"

"haven't got one." you rasp, pulling your knees to your chest and resting your chin atop them. ears flat against your head, your tail swishing- cautious and afraid, you are, and well within your rights to be.

he nods.

"we'll have to fix that, won't we?" he forces a little smile on his lips when you nod. you're not sure why you do when, two seconds ago, you'd have run off if the kennel door was opened. he's smart, he's thought this through. you're not leaving the kennel until you trust him, unbeknownst to you. your tail is ramrod stiff on the cushioned floor of your captivity, and at least he was kind enough to furnish it for you.

˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖

it's hard to trust him even though you know it would be smart to pretend.

he only lets you out to feed you, and from the start, he'd made it clear that if you tried to run, you'd be dead. at the same time, twice a day, he opens the cage for you to crawl out of. he extends his hand to you, looping his gloved fingers around your collar and guiding you to sit by his feet. he links a leather leash through the d-ring attached to your collar and walks you through his home, the environment sterile and hardly lived in.

it's when he puts you in his lap at the dining table and force feeds you that he fills the tense silence. the food itself is good, and you wonder if under different circumstances, you'd want him to be your owner. as you eat, he talks. you are, to some extent, grateful that he feeds you, even if he is only doing the bare minimum.

"have you been good, dear?" he asks, and you nod as per usual. it's rare that you decide to talk.

"good girl." he scratches the spot behind your ear, forcing you to lean into his hand and purr. he chuckles quietly. as he pets you, his stress melts away. you're so cute. a meek, naive little thing that he loves taking care of.

as dinner finishes, he picks you up and keeps you in his arms as he cleans up. you're silent, sedated by the drug he's put in your food, and you're bodering on falling asleep in his arms. a swell of pride of warms his chest as a little snore escapes you, followed by your tail wrapping around his arm.

˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖

day by day, bit by bit, you miss him. he keeps you company when he's not at "work" or whatever that is, he talks to you, he pets you the way you like, and it's nice when you forget about how you got here. the only thing you've come to dislike is the lack of underwear. it's not that he can't afford some, it's that he enjoys your discomfort to a worrisome degree. he likes its easy access, even if he hasn't taken advantage of it (or you) yet.

˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖

he comes around and you find yourself less defensive, thanks to your breeding cycle. you press your face against the bars of your enclosure.

"owner," you whine as he walks past, a spark igniting in your gut. his scent is stronger than it was this morning, and you're hyperaware of the growing warmth filling your body.

"yes, dear?" he stands at his closet, his back to you as he strips himself of his work clothes.

"can i come out?" you paw at the door of your cage, ignoring the rattling noise it causes.

he doesn't respond immediately, letting you stew in your silence for a moment as he finds something more casual to wear. you don't normally ask to come out- this is progress, proof of your trust.

"in a moment. let me get dressed, darling."

it's enough for you to stop whining. your tail swishes happily and your ears perk up when he approaches the cage in grey sweatpants and a black shirt and crouches down to undo the lock to the cage. you practically jump into his arms, purring loud when he wraps his big arms around you and pulls you into his chest.

"thank you." you murmur, nuzzling your cheek against his chest. his smell, like poison, makes you dizzy with desire. the warmth is growing uncomfortable, your ears pinned flat against your head.

he hums in response as he strokes your hair, a purr emanating from the depths of your chest. the heat spreads the more he touches you, pooling between your thighs. he tries not to notice when you rub them together and mewl pathetically.

"is something wrong?" his voice is a match to the flame in your gut.

it's your turn to be silent, trying to even out your breathing despite the overwhelming urge to lean in and take a nice, long whiff of the pheromones he gives off.

"darling, answer me. you know better." he says in a more stern tone, looking down his nose at you.

"… i'm in heat." you state quietly, avoiding his gaze. if you could see his eyes, you're sure they'd be wide and a little bit dark.

"are you, now?" he hoists you up in his arms as he stands, his forearms just under your ass. you're bent slightly over his shoulder. "we'll need to remedy that, won't we, pet?" he chuckles. a chill runs down your spine. just what have you gotten yourself into?

he's not a mean lover, just a little rough. he sets you on his bed and pushes you down with a cold hand to your chest as he moves on top of you. anxiety cools your blood, makes it like ice pushing through your veins.

"wh-what are you…?" he presses a finger to your lips, silencing you, and kisses your cheek.

"i've been waiting a long time for this, darling. it would be wise to avoid making me wait more." there's a threatening undertone to his voice, the burn of discomfort making itself known in your shoulders. he wedges his knee between yours, forcefully parting your thighs so he can trail his hand up them, pinching here and there just to see you flinch, and smooth two fingers along your weeping slit. a hint of a smile makes itself known as you shudder, thighs parting wider to accomodate his hand. his cold digits stop at the very top, feeling for your puffy clit, and rubs slow, tight circles around it.

you hate that it feels good, and you hate yourself for having a breeding cycle. a soft moan leaves you at his light touch, your eyes locked on the hand rubbing your clit. he presses down a little firmer, eliciting a whine from you.

"look, doesn't that feel much better?" he croons, his voice low with his lips so close to your ear. reluctantly, you nod, and that earns you the reward of his fingers rubbing you a little faster. you squirm a little, trying to get more than just surface-level pleasure.

"words."

"y-yes. that feels good, thank you." a hint of malice laces through your tone, but you're grateful for what he's giving you. your face is on fire as only the pathetic wet noises from your cunt fills the air, and you (try to) hide your face in your hands, only to be met with a sharp slap to your cunt. you flinch, the pain subsiding after he continues playing with your cunt. your hands come down from your face and instead grab the sheets.

your stomach tightens, twists into a coil that winds tighter with every pass over your hardened clit. but you can't cum like this, not when your breeding cycle is ongoing.

"owner- p-please, need more." you whine, and albert kisses your cheek as a response, denying you of what you need.

"such a needy thing. fine. you'll get what you want." he takes his hand from your pussy and to the waistband of his sweats, pushing them down rather impatiently, as well as his boxers. weeping, his cock is bright red at the tip from want (how long has he been hard for?) and large. you're worried.

he chuckles at your fear-stricken expression before grabbing your legs and pressing them against your chest.

"be a dear and hold these for me, hm?" he says, and you do as you're told. you hold your legs by the backs of your thighs, pressing them so your knees hit your chest. he strokes himself once, twice to the sight of you spread out for him, your cute cunt drooling. slick drips down your perineum, inviting him.

you watch him slot himself in place, the tip of his long cock dragging through your folds to bump your clit, making you gasp. your entrance clenches around nothing, a pitiful whine leaving you.

"greedy." he shakes his head softly as he lines himself up, and without warning, thrusts himself entirely inside you.

the stretch is worse than you imagined. you flinch away from him, but he grips your thighs and tugs you right back onto his cock. it hurts, and the burn is something you hadn't accounted for. tears prick at your lower lashline. he leans down, his frame practically engulfing yours, and kisses your cheeks.

"don't cry. struggling only makes it worse, you know." he coos, tapping your jaw. you nod softly and wrap your arms around his neck for support, sniffling as the tears trail down the sides of your face. to ease your discomfort, his hand works itself between the two of you again and thumbs at your clit, dulling some of the pain. another moment, and your tears have disappeared.

"y-you can move. m'okay." you mumble to albert's delight. he starts slow, mostly on your behalf, and hisses at just how tight you are around him as he thrusts shallowly into your aching cunt.

the moment you make a noise, he grips your thighs tighter and starts bullying his cock into you quite intensely. the tip of his cock kisses your cervix with every single harsh, downright mean, thrust. he's not doing this for you, and that becomes readily apparent. still, you can't deny that it feels good to be fucked.

albert's quiet, aside from small huffs and hisses of enjoyment. you're so wet, it's making a mess of his lower abdomen and thighs. the lewd slapping of skin on skin combined with your precious mewls and whimpers of pleasure spurr him on, his nails digging into your thighs. his cock brushes against the spongy spot inside you, making you cry out and arch your back off the bed.

"there- a-again, please!" you grab the hand not rubbing your clit and lace your fingers together as the pressure in the pit of your stomach builds and builds, leaving you dumb on your owner's cock. he complies with your request, if not to feel you cum then just to see your pretty face when you do.

he bullies that spot relentlessly, to the point where some of his hair falls in his face. gummy walls squeeze and suck him in more, a loud cry leaving you as you reach your peak. slick gushes from your already crying pussy, thoroughly coating the both of your lower halves. it's dripping from you as he continues pumping into your hole, the schlick noise amplified now.

"w-wait- wait-" you grab the hem of his shirt, but he ignores your protests.

"we're not finished until my precious girl has her cunt filled with cum." he moves your hand away, forcing yourself further into the mating press he's got you in. you can feel every single inch, and how the throb of his dick indicates his climax. a few more sloppy, mean thrusts and he's spilling his seed into you. decidedly, it's a good feeling, and you need much, much more. your heat ceases momentarily, however, as he keeps his cock inside to ensure that nothing leaks out. your tail wraps around his thigh, the end flicking happily.

"i mean filled in every sense of the word, darling." he gathers some of your slick that's coating his lower abdomen on two fingers and pushes them in your mouth, watching with delight as you kitten-lick them clean. a dark grin forms on his pale lips, his length twitching at the sight. it's then that you really give in, that you decide it's better to be this way- fucked full of his cum and brainless. a familiar heat flares in your gut once more.

#bunnystalker ૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა ♡ #bunny's fics ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ #100 follower special #albert wesker #resident evil #albert wesker x reader #resident evil fanfiction #hybrid!reader #owner!albert wesker #hybrid au #albert wesker fanfic #albert wesker smut #tw dubcon #tw dubious consent #tw kidnapping #tw stockholm syndrome #tw drugging #dead dove do not eat #dead dove kind of #the dove is half alive maybe eat

[dilfartist]

Missed - short

Pairing; Yandere Las Plagas Leon Kennedy x reader

Synopsis; after healing Ashely from the Las Plagas, Leon is unable to heal himself. Now fully infected with the Las Plagas, Leon returns home to you.

Reader description; Female/GN

Word count; 1k

TW;dark themes, Leon being crazy is so hot.

!Reblogs and Comments are greatly appreciated!

“Fuck, please start! Please start! Please start!” you cried ramming your car keys into the ignition. Regardless of the number of times you twist the keys, the car refuses to start. “No! Why, god!?” you choke, tears welling up and stinging your eyes.

You study the parking lot through the side-view mirror. Aside from parked vehicles, it was empty. Still, you felt the coil tightening in your stomach. Leon was bound to come any moment. And thanks to the abundance of entrances, he was free to enter wherever.

Instinctively, you press the lock button on the keys. All doors click reassuringly. Now you sit in your car, granting yourself the opportunity to settle your nerves.

What the hell had happened to Leon? One week ago you break up because of his constant absence, then today he’s pounding on your apartment building nearly taking the door off its hinges.

Leon pounding on the door wasn't too out of the ordinary, considering Leon, if given too much to drink, could be an obnoxious drunk. Nevertheless, his knocking was extremely harsh. Like he meant to knock down the door. Despite the clear red flag, you risked unlocking the door but completely halted when your cell phone aggressively vibrated in your pocket. Just as you answered the call, Leon’s banging ceased.

“Whatever you do, do not open that door!” a voice demanded urgently.

Without question, you compled. You simply backed away from the door. Again the voice commanded you sternly, “Grab a weapon. Use it if Leon manages to break in. And if he does, rush out of the door, do you understand?” you responded with an agreeing noise.

Leon begins pounding on the door once again. His muffled voice was audible, transferring through the door's thick wood to your ears. “I know you fucking hear me, (Name)! Answer this fucking door!”

You gape at the door. Leon never acted this way. Not even during arguments. Leon hated the idea of raising his voice at you, and even when he slipped, Leon corrected himself instantly. Something was terribly wrong. You reached over and clasped the largest knife poking outside the knife block.

Leon started hurling himself against the door, each hit included the sound of the door breaking. Before Leon could see you, you jumped into the closet adjacent to the front door. Not much after, Leon busted the door down; the door plunging to the ground with a deafening thud.

Placing your hand on your mouth, you watched through the thin closet slots as Leon stomped his way inside. Something undoubtedly was wrong with Leon. His peach-colored skin littered up to the bottom with visible dark veins. It looked unhealthy. Like Leon had been struck by lighting only a second ago.

He proceeded to your bedroom and you took the advantage. You bustled out of the closet, rushing out the door. Without looking back, you ran over to the elevator. Needing a distraction you pressed the down button on the elevator, hoping Leon would think you took the elevator and use the staircase beside it, whilst you utilized the exit on the other side of the hall.

The idea worked. The door slamming and footfalls descending the stairs was enough evidence.

So here you were in your car, chewing on your nails, fearing your ex-boyfriend’s arrival. You scanned the parking lot again, it stayed the same as the previous time. Just then your phone rang, startling you. Shaikly, you attain your phone from your pocket. The voice on the last call answers, “Miss. (Last name)?”

“Who is this? What the hell happened to Leon!?”

“I understand your stress, but please remember to keep calm.” the person advised calmly. “For starters, Leon works for us. Last week we sent him on a trip to Spain, unfortunately for Leon, he has obtained a virus. Fortunately for us, the woman he was sent to retrieve is safe and sound.”

“So?! I don’t care about the girl, whoever she is, I care about Leon!” you bark, voice quivering with anger.

“Well, when Leon returned to headquarters, he blacked out. It was impressive seeing how far he made it, evaluating the progress of the virus. We kept him safe, testing on him; and endeavoring to cure him. Sadly we haven't still. And that brings us to your situation. Leon, earlier this afternoon, escaped from containment. All week Leon spoke of his girlfriend, so we assumed he made his way to your apartment. We were right.”

“Now, I must warn you, Leon is dangerous. He’s not in his right mind at the moment. We’ll be able to further examine him, and help him if you lead him back to us. Are you able to do that?”

You shake your head, “No. The damn car won't cut on.”

“Alright, then we’ll send someone to your coordinates. Stay inside the car.” the person insists.

“Yeah. Okay, I will.”

The call ends and you are left gazing at the screen, slowly processing what was explained. You knew Leon worked in some secret agency, but this was on another level of strange.

“(Name)!” your name is roared malevolently. You shriek at the sight of Leon peering inside the car, hands pressed against the glass, red eyes meeting yours. “(Name), baby, open this door,” Leon spoke in his usual soft tone that only you experience. The tone that makes you malleable, and weak in the knees. “I’ve missed you. Been thinking about you all week. Those assholes kept us apart, but I'm here now.” Leon conversed with such sweetness it was beginning to make you physically sick.

Leon's visage also was painted with dark veins, his skin paler than before: Reminding you of how sick Leon really was. You wanted to help him. Wanted to hold him. But you wouldn't.

You shook your head, avoiding eye contact. “No, Lee,” you professed. “Y-you aren't okay, I won't let you in.”

Leon merely smiled. A sicking smile that sent chills dancing up your spine.

“Oh, but I am baby. Now open the door, I’ve missed you.”

Part 2

#leon kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #yandere leon kennedy #Yandere Leon #yandere resident evil #resident evil 4 #resident evil x reader #leon s kennedy #dead dove fic #yandere themes #yandere #las plagas! leon

[localkiss]

Screaming for attention!

manipulative brothers best friend re4!leon kennedy x fem!reader

cw: DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT!! Mentions of past grooming by leon, age gap(~8 yrs), manipulation, guilt, dirty talk, p in v, afab reader, noncon creampie, slight anal/talks of anal, codependency, slapping, daddy kink, pet names, depressed thoughts in the beginning, chubby/thicker reader, manhandling, praise kink, degradation kink, talks of pregnancy (just a bit), oral (f receiving), virginity talk, controlling leon, obsessed leon, slight size kink if u squint!

note: hhh... read the warning lol before you comment. I was going to put more of leon being so fucking weird but erm, decided not to. not proof read btw!! but i do want to say i am a victim of SA and i used to heavily think about him and wished that he went further. lol idc what people say, i still struggle thinking like that, but ik it's wrong. so yes that's what this fic is loosely based on -_-

wc: 3.1k! tags: @rigorwhoring, @argreion, @xoxostarlet, @fairry1 bc I love u all :33!

Maybe it's for the best. No more surprises. This is nothing new. All you can hear is deafening silence, swallowing you up in a warm cocoon, suffocating you like a million years of guilt and thousands of weights on your throat and chest. 

You can't help but wish he had done more. Maybe he would've if he could see your thoughts. Maybe he would've stayed.

But those sleeping pills really did a number on your body. You tried to overdose on everything you could, even your antidepressants. Yeah, it was dumb. But it was all just killing you from the inside anyway. 

All you can do now is just sob violently into your pillows. Claw at the sheets and at your scalp, so pathetically. No wonder he chose you. So fucking easy to manipulate, to knead into someone he can use. No wonder he said he only loved you like a friend after he finally got caught in the act.

Whatever it was that he said, you can't remember exactly. You just tuned him out. White noise oozing into your eardrums like water does when you stand underneath the showerhead. He didn't apologize. Didn't explain. Didn't even try to. All you did was cry and plead for him to stay. 

"Please don't leave me, Leon. Please, I can't live without you! I love you! Please!" You sobbed into the phone because, yeah, he broke up with you over text. It's not like you guys were even in a relationship. The age gap was too big and illegal to even be considered a real relationship. 

You knew he was so much older than you. Liked it. Knew it was wrong, yet went forward with it. He should've stopped it. Should've. But he didn't, though. 

You still love him deep down in your heart. He was your first love. First 'boyfriend'. First person to grope your body. You asked for a kiss, and he pressed his chapped lips against your forehead. He asked you for ass pictures, and you gladly sent them. Giggling happily whenever he complimented you and your body.

He's still your ideal type. A cuddly, tall, muscular brunette. 

You wish you could stop yourself from comparing every guy to him or hoping they won't end up like him. Using you and throwing you away as soon as they got what they wanted. 

But, now that you're legal, he reached out to you. Said some nonsense to try and get back into your heart. You didn't even care what he said. Just wanted to feel alive, to feel loved, and to be loved again. Even if it meant being loved by your abuser, you would let him drag you through hell and back if it meant he would love you like he did in the past. If it meant you could feel happy, free, and weightless again, you would march into hell with him.  

As messed up as you are, you would do anything to make him stay. So that you can feel full again. Happy again.

"Wish you would've taken all of my firsts," you pouted as he pulled away from your lips. Swollen and red, so pretty.  

Leon grinned and raised an eyebrow at your statement. "Really, baby girl? Damn," he bites on his lower lip, and his thumb brushes across the apples of your cheeks. 

Taking in the way you look different but still the same as you were years ago, just a bit fuller in your hips, thighs, and stomach, he remembers when he gripped your thigh with both of his hands. Couldn't even manage to grab ahold of all of the fat. A few inches away from completely grabbing your thigh with both hands. 

Now, he probably couldn't even make it so that there were a few inches between his hands; it would be a bit of a distance. That's how much you've grown width-wise. Length wise, you haven't really grown much. 

"Yeah, daddy," you preen under his attention, shifting your weight from your heels to your toes, and back down flat on the floor. "I mean it." 

He lets out a soft chuckle, and his calloused hands softly grab onto your shoulders, rubbing small circles into the fabric of your shirt. "Wish I could've taken all of your first too, baby. I know I would've made it all special for you. For my special girl." Leon coos, his head dipping down to lick into your mouth.

Hot spit trickles down the back of your throat and onto your chin. Making you squeeze your doughy thighs together, moaning as his hands squeeze down to your ass. Pressing you up against his built body. His hard-on throbbing against the confines of his skinny jeans, onto your soft, pudgy tummy.

He groans as you tug at the hair on the back of his head. Pulling back and squishing your cheeks together, and then tapping your face as you try to press your lips on his. His blue eyes darken as you moan when his hand makes contact with your face. 

"Fuck," he grips onto your chin, forcing your mouth open to let a wad of spit hit the edge of your tongue, letting it slide down into your tummy. "Daddy knew you'd like that. I've got a slutty little princess, huh?" 

It's a rhetorical question, but you answer with a few quick nods.

"Yeah, daddy, I'm your slutty little princess." Always so quick to repeat what he said. What he drilled into your brain years ago obviously holds up. You still want to make him happy, even if he ruined you for anyone else. Ruined you for life.

The corners of his lips quirk upwards, his hands giving your ass a quick squeeze before he pushes you down into the bed. He climbs on top of you like a hungry animal, licking his lips at the sight of his prey.

A whine escapes from your throat at the sight. He's gotten even more attractive and bigger, and it's making your brain all mushy. Shooting directly down to your core, feeling it gush out slick onto the gussets of your panties. 

You lick your lips and wrap your legs around his hips. "Please, Leon." 

He lets out a low growl, his veiny forearms coming up by the sides of your head. Firmly planting them on the mattress as he rocks his hips into yours. His bangs fall into your face as he teasingly grazes his lips against yours. Panting hotly against your lips. 

"Relax, baby," is all he says before he moves his mouth, making a wet trail from the corner of your lips down to your jawline. 

"Let me love you." Leon murmurs into your skin as he sucks a hickey underneath your ear, making you gasp and squirm beneath him. 

You become pliable, easy to bend, and easy to please. Brain too foggy to clearly think straight. Leon's marking up your neck like you'll try to run away from him. It's like you're his property now. God, you've always been his, ever since that fateful day, right?

Just a few words, and he can do whatever he wants with your body. Maybe one day you'll let him take your first time with your other hole. Who knows. 

"So pretty, fuck," his tongue dips between the valley of your breasts, hands grasping at your shirt to push it up, exposing you to his hungry eyes. His knee slots between your thighs, making you squeak and squeeze his leg involuntarily. Pressing your tits together to swipe his tongue across your perky nipples. 

Bathing your tits in his spit, he suckles on them like a madman. Enjoying the way you mewl and gasp, using his teeth to draw out more noises from you. Obsessed with every single part of you, even the not-so-pretty parts. He has you mapped out in his mind, his sweet, supple princess. 

"Has anyone ever eaten you out?" Kissing your areolas, soothing the small bite marks he left. He looks up at you through his eyelashes, brows furrowed in concentration. He's doting on you like it's the last time he'll ever see you again. 

"No," you say, pressing your lips together in a flat line. Feeling your stomach tighten up with butterflies and hints of nausea. 

Leon likes that. So much so that he smiles into your stomach, softly gnawing on the pudge around your belly button, earning some soft squeals and pats to try and push him away. He wants to make you crumble under him, submit to him, and never leave. Never want another man. Always comparing someone to him, wishing they did it like him. He wants to plague your mind and control you from the inside out. 

He wants to tie you up in his bedroom and never let you leave. Live your own life? No. Leon wants to drill it into your brain and body that he owns you, no thoughts about anything else but him and his body. 

He pulls down your shorts and panties in one go, watching the string of your arousal stick to the gussets of your panties. His large hands pry open your legs, pushing them up to your chest and holding them down with his weight. 

"Remember this," he spits onto your pussy, watching it swim down to your holes. Squeezing your legs when you squirm a little too much for his taste, deciding to spit once more to make sure you'll have his DNA in you for the next couple of days. 

Pressing chaste kisses on your clit because he knows it'll make your mind go all fuzzy and only think of Leon, Leon, Leon. And how good he's making you feel. Nobody else but him.

He dips his tongue between your folds and begins to languidly make out with it. Thrusting his tongue and swirling it upwards as his upper lip continues to make contact with your clit. Drawing out all sorts of pathetically cute noises from you. 

Wishing he was recording this so he could show it to his friends and brag about how he has molded you to be his perfect girl. You're not a woman until he fucks a baby into you. 

"You like that?" He suckles on your clit and gently bites down on it. Watching the way your face crinkles up and how you squeeze your eyes shut. Everything you do amuses him. 

"Daddy, mmh... god, yes!" You grasp the sheets as you feel a warm, fuzzy feeling in your lower abdomen. Toes curling as Leon fucks his tongue into your drippy hole. 

He shakes his head, pressing his nose into your sensitive bundle of nerves, trying to get you to cum quickly. 

Your hands desperately try to reach for Leon for comfort as you stumble into an orgasm. "Daddy... Mmphh—fuck!" 

Legs kicking out and vibrating as he coaxes you through your orgasm. Slowly swiping his tongue through your folds to slurp up all of your cum, he presses soft kisses all around your pussy. "Such a good girl," he sighs. 

Leon spreads your legs, kissing his way up to your face. He licks his way into your mouth, forcing you to taste yourself on his tongue and gulp down some of his saliva. "So easy." He puts his hand on your neck, lightly applying pressure as he goes back in for more kisses. Make sure you never leave this cloudy state of mind, so he can do whatever he pleases with you. 

"Maybe I can even eat you out here," he says, letting his hand wander down to your asshole and lightly tracing the rim of it. Feeling you tense up brings a sly smile to his face. "No? Okay. Maybe next time." He chuckles and pulls back to unbuckle his jeans. 

Slowly undoing his belt and putting it next to you on the bed. Unzipping his fly as he makes direct eye contact with you the entire time. He makes you gulp nervously as he finally pushes his jeans down his muscular thighs.

Your eyes immediately jump to his hard-on. How does he even keep that thing in there? It's begging to be freed, and quite frankly, you want to run away out of nerves, not believing his cock can even fit inside of you! What the fuck did Leon even eat for it to even have grown that big and thick?

Leon sees the cogwheels turning in your head as he steps out of his pants. With each step he takes, it bounces against the slightly stained, striped fabric. "Baby, don't be so nervous. It'll be alright." His voice is soothing and convincing, almost hypnotic in the way it makes your body buzz and your mind go blank. 

It is a bit terrifying to think about the effect he honestly has on you, your mind, body, and soul. 

"Are you on the pill?" He asks, although he already knows the answer. 

"No, I'm not." You mumble shyly. Embarrassed to not be on some sort of birth control.

Leon reaches down for his wallet and pulls out a condom. "Good thing I always come prepared, huh?" Chuckles as he pulls down his briefs, stepping out of them as he tears open the condom packaging. He slipped it on his drippy and flushed tip, sliding all the way down to the base. 

Slowly kneeling on the bed to lead his dick to your hole. Sliding through your folds to gather more fluids to make the first push easier on you. 

"Ready?" He grunts as he teases you by tapping himself on your swollen clit. 

"Uhuh, 'm ready," you whine as he slowly eases himself into your pussy. 

Moaning as you helplessly flutter and tighten around his shaft. Watching your face carefully as you scrunch and tense up. Stopping halfway and grabbing ahold of your hand, his other one grips the fat of your hip so tight it'll leave a bruise the next day. 

"Almost there, baby girl, doing so well for me," he presses a soft kiss to your forehead as he drives more of himself deep inside of you.

You look down at your stomach and tighten around him as you notice the bulge from his cock being so big and deep inside of you. His tip is brushing against the opening of your womb.

"Nnh, Leon, too big," you gasp as he rolls his hips against yours. Legs squeezing against his waist as he slowly starts to thrust shallowly.

"Baby, relax. Can barely pull out of you," Leon rasps in your ear, sending chills down your spine as you try to force yourself to relax around him. 

"Mnmph, sorry, Daddy. Please—" you pout, squeezing his hand tightly. Trying to signal for him to start pounding your needy cunt already.

He nibbles on your earlobe, slowly shifting his hips to thrust in and out of you properly. Soft plap, plap, plap, of his body hitting yours, making sure that he hits your g-spot. 

You swallow a whine as he lets go of your hip to lazily rub his thumb on your swollen little button. Hearing the way your breath hitches and seeing the slight curve in your spine makes all his administrations worth it. Slowly speeding up his movements as he squeezes your hand, groaning low in his throat when you clench around him tightly like a vice. 

"Tight cunt all f'me," he thrusts harder and harder, making it difficult to keep quiet. Soft punched-out cries leave your lips alongside Daddy, Daddy, Daddy's. "Fuck, daddy's gonna make you cum so hard around his cock, might even make you scream." 

Leon slowly pushes your legs up, putting you into a mating press as he drives himself deeper into you. Fucking into your womb, which craves his thick cum. Ecstatic with the idea of 'accidentally' slipping the condom off and cumming deep in your womb. Get you pregnant and finally be his woman. 

"God, wanna get you pregnant so bad, baby," he pants, bangs falling into your face with each harsh thrust. "Would take care of you and the baby. Mmhh shit—would suck the milk outta your fat leaky tits." 

Drools into your mouth as he kisses you with fervor, teeth clashing as his dick continues to fill up your sloppy pussy. 

"Leon, please, 'm so close," you hiccup as he vigorously rubs your clit in tight circles. Your legs brush up against his head as you feel that familiar warm coil in your stomach. 

"Cum for me princess." Leon's eyes darken; pupil's swallowing up his iris as he watches you unfold before him. Because of him. 

Your body tenses up and convulses with each swipe of his thumb on your sensitive nerves. Letting out a silent scream, your eyes close tightly as you try to hold onto Leon as best as you can, feeling his hot breath on your kissed, swollen lips. His fat cock is hitting all the right spots, almost painfully good as he fucks you deeply. Constantly pressing up against your womb, making your toes curl. 

Slowly rutting through your orgasm, he feels his own start to creep up on him. "Fuck, hold on, baby. Gonna pull out for a sec," he pants, pulls out of your heat, and discreetly pulls off the condom, letting it fall on his jeans. 

He quickly puts it back in before you can notice, giving you a spine-chilling smile. Giving you a few pecks on your lips and on your forehead as he uses you like a fleshlight now. 

Letting out soft whimpers and moans, he puts his head on your shoulder. The sounds of sex are his favorite sounds. Your crying is his favorite sound in the entire world. Nothing can top you crying out for him while moaning like a total slut. 

"So fucking hot, Jesus Christ," he groans, hips rabbiting into your pussy. Your insides are so warm and so wet, he feels like it's the first time he's going raw ever. Orgasm on the fence with each thrust. That and you're making all these noises, it's hard for him to concentrate on not cumming so fast. 

"G'nna cum, babe, holy fuck—" He lifts his head off of your shoulder and kisses you feverishly, spitting deep into your throat. Putting his forehead on yours, his nose touches yours as he grunts, pumping his cum into your pussy. Sticky white ropes straight into your womb. 

Panting and whimpering as his cock slowly ruts into your messy cunt. "Fuck... So good," he chuckles lightheartedly. 

Your pussy quivers around his shaft as it softens up. It feels so hot and sticky, and your mind is too fuzzy to even process that he came inside. A dumbfounded smile plastered on your flushed pink face makes his heart swell up. 

"Such a good girl. My good girl, right?" Leon nuzzles his nose against yours. Driving the fact that you'll always be his. Even if you move across the country, he'll always follow. Always in your shadow. 

"Uhuh," you respond shyly, giggling at the affection he's giving you. His eyes soften up, and you take in his face. The light stubble, small acne scars, and the way his hair is fading from dirty blonde to brown. "always, daddy." 

#leon kennedy #leon s kennedy #resident evil smut #leon smut #resident evil x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon x reader #leon kennedy x reader #dead dove fic #dead dove do not eat #leon resident evil #re4 leon #re4r leon #leon scott kennedy #localkiss

[rotandguts]

➵ ┄ AUGUST

danny (evil dead rise) x fem!reader, summer camp!au

a three part series inspired by ‘august’ by taylor swift

summary: your almost decade long rivalry with danny is complicated when you’re both selected as camp councillors. with the summer heat and the constant meddling of his sisters, limits are tested and boundaries are crossed with your blossoming feelings. it’s going to be a summer to remember.

contains: enemies/rivals to lovers and back again, angst, slowburn, eventual smut, jealous pining

CAMP MAP/ACCEPTANCE LETTER

PLAYLIST

✶ PART ONE - YOU WEREN’T MINE TO LOSE

✷ PART TWO - WHISPERS OF “ARE YOU SURE?” 

✸ PART THREE - SO MUCH FOR SUMMER LOVE

#danny evil dead #danny evil dead rise #danny x reader #danny evil dead rise x reader #danny evil dead x reader #evil dead rise #evil dead #evil dead smut #evil dead x reader #evil dead fic #morgan davies #morgan davies imagine

[alienguts]

White Lies (Ash Williams x f!Reader)

Summary: Y/N broke her arm fighting Deadites with Ash and they need to come up with a convincing excuse for the doctor.

Warnings: injuries, hurt/comfort, brief mentions of violence and gore

Request?: No, but I feel like it's been an eternity since I wrote an Ash fic

A/N: I'm still trying to find the time to work on an Ash smut fic, so here's something to hold over the thirteen of you who are here for Ash fics

“Have you come up with a story yet?” Ash whispered in Y/N’s ear as his eyes darted around the hospital waiting room.

“I’m just gonna tell them I tripped on a tree root, will you calm down?” she hissed, trying to keep as inconspicuous as she could with a broken arm and muddy clothes. And a boyfriend whose clothes were almost completely covered in blood.

“I am calm,” Ash said, clearly not calm at all. “You’re not calm enough.”

“Ash, my arm has snapped in half, it is taking so much for me to be calm right now because all I want to do is cry.”

Ash opened his mouth to speak, only to snap it back closed again.

He wasn’t always fond of Y/N joining him whenever he needed to get rid of some Deadites, but it was hard for him to say no when she was so insistent on helping him.

The creatures had been hot on their tails the entire night, relentlessly pursuing them through the woods. Ash had given Y/N the boomstick while he fended them off with the chainsaw, but she still needed some practise with it.

She’d managed to get several headshots in, showering the ground with blood and guts as each monster went down in a gory explosion. Ash’s clothes hadn’t fared much better considering he was face to face with the monsters, leading to him being covered head to toe in blood. His shirt had changed from blue to red and muddy brown and clung to his skin as he kicked at the creatures and slashed them in half with the chainsaw.

Things were going well until they ventured into a part of the woods where the undergrowth was thicker, hiding the tree roots. Y/N kept moving backwards as carefully as she could, taking shots whenever she could and trying to keep her balance. Ash followed close behind, using the chainsaw to clear away any shrubbery in his way after the final Deadite had been slain.

“Y/N, keep going ahead,” he called to her. “I got the last of ‘em!”

Y/N turned to face towards the end of the woods, only for her foot to snag on a root and send her crashing to the ground. 

First she heard a sickening snap underneath her. Then came the pain.

Y/N had experienced many injuries in the times she and Ash had been fighting Deadites together, but this may have been the first broken limb she’d suffered. She’d always expected to be hurt by a Deadite, not her own stupid feet. An inhuman cry forced itself out of her lungs when the pain registered, making Ash hurry over to her.

“What happened?” he asked, panicked. “Did one of them get you?”

“I think my arm’s broken,” Y/N said through gritted teeth. 

“C’mon, we need to get you home,” he said as he stooped down to pick her up. The chainsaw was no longer running but he was still careful to keep it away from her.

“No, I need a hospital,” Y/N countered.

She’d become well acquainted with how much Ash did not like medical things at all, especially since he didn’t have insurance and was likely to be thrown into a mental facility if he was honest with a doctor. She felt him falter as soon as the word ‘hospital’ left her mouth.

“Baby, you don’t need a hospital,” he said haltingly. “I could treat this at home for you.”

She used her good arm to grab onto his shirt and pull his attention back to her.

“Ash,” she said firmly. “I can feel the bone almost sticking out of my arm. I need to see a doctor.”

And so, Ash took Y/N to the emergency room and endured every single odd look given to him by nurses and other patients. He must have explained five times that no he was fine, it was his girlfriend who needed to see a doctor. His bloody clothes and her muddy clothes didn’t exactly help when they were both sitting in the ER.

“Does it still hurt?” he asked softly as he stroked his thumb across her free hand.

“Yeah, but I’m kind of used to the pain now,” Y/N said, exhausted from everything that happened that night.

“I’m sorry I dragged you into this, sweetheart,” he said and turned in his seat to face her. “It’s my fault that this happened.”

Y/N sighed and twined her fingers with Ash’s.

“It’s not your fault,” she said. “I insisted on coming with you and I was the one who tripped on a stupid root.”

“Yeah, but I can’t help but feel responsible.”

“Ash, we’re both adults so we’re both responsible. And besides, it’s just a broken arm. It could have been a lot worse.”

“I know but I feel like-”

He didn’t get to finish his thought when the doctor called Y/N through to the examination room.

After an unnecessary x-ray to confirm that her arm was indeed broken, Y/N was given a thick cast and a very necessary bag of painkillers before being sent on her way. She’d given exactly the excuse she’d planned on - I tripped on a tree root - but Ash didn’t have an answer for why he was soaked in blood.

“I’m fine, don’t worry about me,” he’d said when the doctor asked what happened, cutting off the conversation immediately.

By the time they got back to the car, the sun was already starting to rise, painting the sky in soft hues of pink and orange. Ash was still wide awake, but just one glance at Y/N told him how exhausted she was. Her clothes were dishevelled, her hair sticking up everywhere, her eyes red and puffy, and she shuffled her feet with every step.

“How’re you feeling, honey?” Ash asked as he unlocked the car.

“Sore. Tired. Grumpy,” Y/N said, her words slurring together. “I just wanna go to bed.”

“You and me both.” 

Ash opened the passenger door for her and helped her into the seat before fastening her seat belt and closing the door again. By the time he’d gotten behind the wheel and turned the key in the ignition she was already falling asleep. He’d planned on helping her clean up once they’d got home, but it looked like he would just have to shower alone while she slept. He smiled to himself and reached over the seat to gently stroke her face.

“You and me put up with some shit, huh, kid?” he said softly, not expecting her to answer before driving them home.

#ash williams x reader #ash williams x you #ash williams imagine #ash williams fluff #evil dead x reader #evil dead x you #evil dead imagine #evil dead fic #fluff #female reader #*my writing

[ghostkennedy]

Workplace Romance

~ID! Leon Kennedy x fem! Reader~

Word count: 7213

Content warnings: DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT, non-con, dub-con, serial killers, murder, leon's a major asshole and mean to reader, lots of arguing, confrontation, drugging, kidnapping, use of shock collar, degrading, pet names, serious bodily harm, forced self-harm, crawling, descriptions of blood/pain/body mutation, forced blowjob, cum swallowing, piss, reader pisses self, removal of an appendage/body part, capital punishment, death row, lethal injection, masturbation, very little comfort, no happy ending

the content warnings are a mess, but i think i included everything.

!!!!!!!!MINORS DNI! GHOSTKENNEDY IS STRICTLY 18+!!!!!!!

Agent Leon Kennedy. A name you weren’t familiar with until a few weeks ago. Now, he’s the leading cause of all your headaches.

He’s a renowned FBI agent. Not only is he an excellent detective, but an expert in serial killer psychology.

He’s successfully led in the investigations and captures of eight serial killers and helped in the convictions of upwards of a hundred murderers.

He’s spent years studying the minds of serial killers. He can find the smallest bit of information and utilize it to get inside a killer's head. He’s the FBI’s serial killer specialist and if there’s ever a suspected serial killing, the case files land right on his desk.

And that’s what’s brought the two of you together.

You had just made detective at the Raccoon City Police Department, but the training was subpar. Any case that goes through this department is almost guaranteed to go unsolved. It’s not the station's fault, but the lack of funding and resources that has led to its downfall.

You’re up to your neck in cold case files. And crime that needs any sort of investigation is immediately your obligation. You’re a one person department and absolutely set up to fail.

When the FBI finally shows interest in the series of murders taking place throughout the city, you’re honestly relieved. Anything to ease your heavy workload. But it all changes when you meet him.

Agent Leon fucking Kennedy.

He’s a cocky bastard who undermines your department, which is solely you, constantly. He is unimpressed with the investigative work done on the case and won’t hesitate to insult your abilities as a detective.

And the man is basically untouchable.

He’s the FBI’s golden boy who can do no wrong. Everyone in the station worships the ground he walks on because he’s here to save the town, like a superhero. He’s the best of the best and everyone is expected to tolerate him. No exceptions.

It doesn’t help that he’s absolutely gorgeous. Always looking so well put together, a calculated appearance that never falters. Men and women alike gawk at the man. Whether they want to be with him or be him, you’d be stupid to not acknowledge it. 

A brown fringe cascading around his face. Pretty blue eyes matched with a prominent nose and jaw line, a dimple centered in his chin. Even the stubble lining his jaw is flawless. His eyebrows are knitted together in a permanent scowl. He looks like he despises the world and it makes him that much more enticing. 

And it pisses you off entirely. If he was just some mediocre, average looking man, it’d make hating him so much easier. But of course the jackass is incredible. It makes you wanna pour acid in your eyes just to give you your peace of mind back. Seeing is believing, right?

Without a single break in the case and no solid leads, you’re happy to take a step back from the case. It doesn’t mean you don’t care, but the crime rate in town has been steadily rising and you know you can help better elsewhere.

You walk into the station on what you thought was a typical Tuesday morning. But you’ve barely made it through the front door when you’re met with chaos.

People are running around, coming in and out of the station. The noise level is atrocious and has you wishing you’d caught the fucking plague because it would be less exhausting than this.

You barely make it five paces into the station when one of the coworkers you actually bother with appears at your side.

“It never stops, does it?” Jill says breathlessly.

You shake your head before replying, “What’s going on now?”

“Wait, you don’t know? Shouldn’t you be the first to know, actually?” She stops dead in her tracks, which in result causes you also to abruptly stop.

“Considering I don’t know what you’re talking about, I have no idea.” You cross your arms over your chest and turn to face her.

She sighs and places her hands on her hips. “They found another body early this morning. Everything matches up with the previous ones, so it’s basically confirmed to be one of his.”

“Another body? This will be his tenth fucking kill.”

“Thank God we got the FBI on it then?” Jill quirks an eyebrow at you, causing you to roll your eyes in response.

Jill is one of the few people seemingly in the world to not care for Leon’s bullshit. She can’t stand the man and isn’t afraid to voice it. She’s your number one defender and isn’t shy about arguing with the dreaded FBI agent.

“Maybe he’ll finally be good for something other than making my life a living Hell.”

Jill reaches out and squeezes your shoulder as she shakes her head. “But at what cost? Let’s hope the sweet, tender boy can magically solve the case and fuck back off to wherever he flew in from.”

Another coworker comes up and pulls Jill away from you. As she marches away behind the man, she turns and waves at you. You hate that you instantly wave back, but it’s Jill. You’ll look like a dork over and over for her sake.

You lower your hand and sigh, but before you can even begin walking again, a presence takes shape beside you.

“What are you doing?” An unmistakable snarky voice calls out to you. Your muscles instantly tense up in his presence, like your body is physically rejecting him and his aura.

You scoff as you begin walking again. “None of your business, Leon.”

You’re annoyed when Leon meets your big strides, keeping up with you pace for pace. You both remain silent as you quickly arrive at your office door.

You go to close the door behind you, but Leon pushes past, welcoming himself into your office. You’re frozen in place for a second in your confusion, but you quickly snap out of it and sink into your desk chair.

“What’s up?” You fold your arms over your chest and lean back in your chair. Being around Leon is exhausting and you can already feel this conversation draining you.

Leon doesn’t take a seat, instead choosing to stand tall above your desk, looking down at you.

“None of your business.” Leon mocks you in a shrill voice. 

“What’s up?” His eyes meet yours, locking in an intense stare.

“You need to address me properly. Agent Kennedy, not Leon.”

You furrow your eyebrows at the sudden authority in his voice. When he doesn’t speak up again, it prompts you to instead.

“Okay. But I would appreciate it if you addressed me properly too, Agent Kennedy.”

“No.”

“No?”

“No.”

You quirk your head to the side, shocked by the pure audacity of this man. The audacity to demand respect when he can’t even give it. It’s infuriating.

“Well, Leon, I don’t appreciate being disrespected in my own-“

“Earn it.”

You shake your head in exasperation at his interruption. Yes. Infuriating is the best word to describe this man.

“What?” You release a heavy sigh, already exhausted from the few words exchanged.

“Respect is earned. Earn respect and you will receive it.”

“You haven’t earned-“

“I’m the FBI’s best asset when it comes to convicting serial killers, not to mention all of the side work I’ve done in homicide prevention and precaution. I’ve earned goddamn respect and I expect it, no exceptions.”

He slams his hands down on your desk, causing you to jump, your chair screeching across the floor as you put more space between you two.

Your voice is shaking as you throw your hands up in the air, “Fuck! Okay! Sorry, Agent Kennedy.”

He gives you a final death glare before backing up and causally stuffing his hands into the pockets of his slacks. It remains silent as you two stare across the room at each other.

“Anyways, I needed to talk to you.” He finally sits in the chair and your shoulders visibly relax. You hate yourself for being so visibly nervous in his presence currently, but it was out of your control.

“What about?”

He clears his throat. “I don’t like it anymore than you do, but my bosses have instructed me to take you under my wing. Teach you what I know. And it’s my obligation to follow those orders and I think it’s in your best interest to do so as well. It would be very beneficial to you.”

Your eyes fall closed as you barely manage to hold back a groan. Your head falls back, scalp connecting with the back of your chair.

“You just made detective, correct?”

You sigh and look back up at him, “Yeah. Not even a month ago.”

“Then let me help you. There’s no one here to train you on how to be a good detective, a good investigator. I know a thing or two. You just have to let me help you. Also, it’ll be better on my conscience if I leave here confident in this station's sole detective.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“I’m being serious. I have a lot to teach and you have a lot to learn. You’d be stupid to not take full advantage of this opportunity.”

You remain silent, lost in your own thoughts. You were confident with your abilities as a detective. Confident with your capability to solve cases, but he has the experience that you don’t. But he’s also Leon Kennedy and that alone is almost enough to make you say fuck no.

“How many people have died at the hands of this killer? That we know of so far.”

“9 I believe.”

“10 after the discovery this morning. And there could be more we don’t know about. You don’t wanna solve this case? Wanna bring this sick fuck to justice?”

“Well, of course-“

“Then work with me. How many more innocent people need to die?”

You release a heavy sigh. “Alright, alright. We have a deal or whatever.”

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

Weeks have passed and Leon’s arrogance has only gotten worse.

The belittling, the undermining, just everything he does has you raging. You’ve given up on helping with the investigation because anything you do is scrutinized. You found a solid piece of evidence that could have easily been looked into, but he rejected it and told you to disregard it.

No matter how hard he tries to make you feel like it, you’re not an idiot. You’re a great detective and nothing about this situation is right. His behavior, his attitude, his methods of operation are all suspicious as hell, so how could you not look into him?

You’re not exactly sure what you were looking for. Maybe a sign that he was taking credit for work he didn’t actually do? Or maybe a sign of him planting evidence?

Why couldn’t you have just minded your goddamn business?

You’re the only two left in the station, working late on the case. To say things are tense is a fucking understatement if you’ve ever heard one. 

“Can I ask you a question, (Reader)?” 

Your head shoots up from your computer screen. The way he says your name has chills running down your spine, has you struggling to swallow. 

“Um, yeah. What’s your question?” 

His elbows are on the table, his chin resting on the backs of his clasped hands. “Did you find what you were looking for?” His tone is accusatory and it confuses you.

“I’m not sure I know what you mean?” 

“Don’t play stupid.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Why were you looking into me?” He brings his hands down to the table and leans in closer to your side of the table. “Did you find what you were looking for?” 

Your heart is in your throat as you struggle to find the words to explain yourself. “What kind of detective would I be if I didn’t?”

He snickers. “Answering a question with a question. Classic. But I’m not interested in beating around the fucking bush, so how about you just tell me what you were looking for.” 

You take a deep breath before straightening your spine and feigning a confidence you definitely don’t feel. “Okay. You’re suspicious as fuck. And I don’t trust you. Is that what you wanted to hear?”

“And what did you find?” He snaps at you. You don’t understand why he’s taking such offense to a detective doing detective work? He didn’t anticipate this? 

“Nothing. I didn’t find anything.”

“And do you still have your suspicions about me?”

“Yes.” You answer his questioning immediately. You’re not sure what compels you to do so, but your mouth moves faster than your mind. “I still don’t understand why you act the way you do.”

He looks away from you, pulling a file out of his briefcase and flipping through the papers inside of it. “What were you hoping to find?”

“I-” you’re once again stumbling over your words. No one has ever made you so nervous, no one has ever triggered your flight or fight as much as he does. Alarms are constantly going off in your head about him and you hate it. “I just wanted some answers.”

“Then fucking ask.” He slams the folder shut and tosses it down the table. “Ask me your questions. Don’t be a baby about it, going behind my back to find them. You’re a big girl. If you want answers, come and get them.”

“Why are you such a dick?”

“Because I can be. Next question.”

“You’re infuriating.”

“That’s not a question.”

“Obviously.”

“We’re getting nowhere. Nevermind.”

“Wait!” You yell at him, reaching out and grabbing his wrist as he goes to stand up. “I’m sorry. You just piss me off.”

He pulls his wrist from your grasp with a disgusted look, but he doesn’t get up from his chair. He stares at you silently, which means he wants you to speak up. He’s so fucking entitled, you have to refrain from going off on him for the billionith time. 

“Why do you brush me off constantly? I bring you solid, concrete leads and you treat them like they’re nothing. You’re leaving so many loose ends. We’re not any closer to solving this case. Why?”

He hums at you like your question is invalid. You don’t know what you expected. Of course he was just going to be a prick like he always is. 

“That’s your perspective on it. A false perspective, but one nonetheless.”

“What does that mean?” The offense is obvious in your voice. More belittling, more brushing off your valid concerns. Of course. Of fucking course.

“Because I’ve followed every last lead and every little piece of evidence. It’s not my fault you can’t keep up.”

“Bullshit!” You’re both surprised at your outburst. You can’t hold it back anymore. You can’t stand the lying and fucking diversions anymore. “I’ve been watching you, Leon. I haven’t seen you investigate shit. You pick and choose where you pay attention. This is the FBI’s very best? It’s fucking pathetic.”

He keeps his expression blank and neutral. “Anything else?”

“Yes, actually. I’m trying to figure out what the fuck it is you do that’s so fucking incredible that you’ve solved so many cases. Are you taking credit for other people’s work? Are you planting evidence? That’s the only thing that makes sense. You’re an opportunist. It’s like you’re just silently waiting to find the perfect person to blame. Is that it? You frame people to make yourself look better? What is it?”

Your voice is desperate and it’s genuinely embarrassing. But you are desperate. And you don’t wanna sit by anymore, not with the terrible suspicions constantly plaguing your exhausted mind. 

“You think I’m covering up for serial killers? You realize how crazy that sounds, right?”

“Oh, shut the fuck up. It’s not that fucking farfetched.”

“Why would I do that?”

You let out a noise of frustration, “I don’t know! To make yourself look better? Everyone worships you for the work you’ve done. Maybe it’s for the praise and glory, to stroke your ego.”

He smirks at you and it only enrages you more. 

“You told me to ask you questions!” you yell at him, “Now give me fucking answers!”

“I don’t give a shit what people think. You think I would cover up for serial killers to make myself look better? That’s stupid.”

“Then maybe you have another reason!”

“Like?”

“I don’t fucking know! For all I know, you’re the serial killer and you just frame people to cover your own ass. Your job would be the perfect guise wouldn’t it?” It’s just word vomit pouring from your mouth at this point, but something about what you’ve said has Leon jumping to his feet.

Before you even have time to react, he’s leapt across the table. His hand wraps around your neck, pushing you back in your chair until you go crashing to the floor. You cry out in pain as your skull connects with the ground.

Your vision is fuzzy from the impact, but you slowly blink your eyes until they focus back in on Leon’s body hovering over yours. With the grip he has on your throat, you can’t speak. All you can do is look up at him and the unhinged expression on his face.

Leon shifts and there’s a sudden sharp, burning pain in your neck. Your arms shoot up and your fingers connect with the syringe in your neck. Your eyes widen in fear.

“Good detective work, baby. You’ve figured it out. Congratulations! You found your guy!” His smile is huge and combined with his crazy eyes, has you shaking beneath him.

The muscles in your body quickly start to tingle as you lose control of them, slowly going limp beneath him.

“Goodnight.” Your eyes roll into the back of your head as you pass out.

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

You’re awake, your eyes are open but your brain still isn’t able to process anything. You stare blankly as you try to actually wake up. The room is a blur and you can hear a voice calling out to you, but you can’t make out what it’s saying.

Sudden white hot pain has your consciousness finally catching up with you. You’re gasping for air as you finally take in your surroundings. 

The room is dirty, trash littering the floor around you. The only object in the room is a chair on the other side of the room.

“Good morning. Thought that’d wake you up.”

You push yourself up into a sitting position as Leon appears in front of you. He gently pats your head causing you to cower away from him, but he just laughs at you and walks over to the chair. Every step he takes makes a loud crunching sound as his shoes connect with the debris covering the floor. The only cleared spot is the space surrounding you, just enough for your body to lay in.

You try to speak, but all you can manage to do is cough. Leon sits leisurely in his chair as you struggle through your coughing fit.

The second it passes, while you’re still gasping for air, you call out to him, “Wha-what are you doing? What do you want?”

“Crawl to me.”

You look at him like he’s insane, and in all honesty he is, but he only smirks at the look you’re giving him. He leans back in his chair so casually, legs spread open as his left hand dangles between them. It pisses you off that he looks so good like this. Maybe if he hadn’t just kidnapped you, you would be more willing to appreciate how good the view definitely is.

“I said, crawl to me.” His voice is filled with venom as he points to the ground between his legs. He cannot be fucking serious right now.

You look at the stretch of floor between you two. It’s littered with broken glass and who knows what else. It’s obviously been intentionally spread around. This house may be old and abandoned, but the sharp shards are too clean and perfect to have been sitting here long at all. 

He wants you to crawl through shattered glass on your hands and knees to him. Kidnapping you wasn’t enough. Having complete control isn’t enough, he has to exercise it.

“Leon…” you struggle to find the right words, because what are you supposed to say? It’s obvious that you don’t want to crawl across this fucking floor. “Please don’t make me-”

You gasp as your body goes tense from a sudden, unfamiliar pain. It feels like several wasps just stung your neck, and as quick as it hits, it’s gone. 

Your muscles finally loosen and your hands shoot up to your neck, feeling some sort of rough fabric with a rectangular plastic box at the front of your throat.

“What the fuck is this?” Your voice is strained, still panting as you try to recover from the pain.

He chuckles at you. “You will address me as sir and you will crawl to me.”

Your fingers are still fiddling with the device strapped to your throat, trying to find some way to take it off. But it’s complicated not being able to see what you’re doing. Just when you think you might be able to slip a finger under the tight, firm fabric, the pain comes back.

The stinging pain is more intense this time and longer. You’re about to collapse, unable to keep yourself in a sitting position, when the pain once again subsides. 

You can’t stop the tears pouring down your cheeks, body still shaking and in shock from the intensity of the pain to your neck.

“Now. Stop fucking with your collar and crawl to me.” 

Your head shoots up to him at his choice of words. “Collar?”

He licks his lips while a look of amusement lights up his face. “Yes, dumb little bunny. A shock collar. To help you behave.”

The hand that’s been lazily lying between his legs flips around to reveal the remote in his palm. Your eyes widen as your pain riddled brain slowly catches up to the present. A fucking shock collar. He put a shock collar on you like you’re some fucking dog.

“Crawl. To. Me. Now.” He spits out angrily, his tone sending chills down your spine.

When you don’t make any movement, he makes a big show of fiddling with the remote. Taunting you, warning you. 

You let out a heavy sigh. “Okay, shit okay. I’ll crawl to you.” 

“Crawl to who?”

You push yourself up on your knees and lightly bring your palms to the ground, gently sitting them over top of the shattered glass. “You, sir. I’m going to crawl to you, sir.”

He relaxes in his chair once again at your answer, seemingly pleased with it. “Go on then. What’re you waiting for?” 

You take a few deep breaths, attempting to will yourself to move forward. You know you have to do this, but you can’t seem to bring yourself to make the first move.

“Unless you need some more motivation. We could make good use of that collar.”

Your eyes shoot up and look up at him pleadingly, “Please, no.”

“Then fucking move.”

Leon’s patience is completely gone and you don’t want to see what other lengths he’s willing to go to to punish you. 

You reach out with your right hand and your right knee slowly follows. You hiss out as your skin connects with some of the shards.

“That’s it, being such a good girl right now.”

Your breathing stops for a moment as a blush creeps up your neck at the praise. You’re so mad at yourself for your body’s reaction to his words. This is already fucking humiliating, how much worse can it get?

You move your left hand forward, breathing through the pain as it connects with the floor and your left knee follows. You’re going slow, being careful not to cut yourself up worse by being hasty. 

You move your right hand carefully, blood already spilling from the cuts and onto the glass covered floor. It’s making shards stick to your skin and making everything that much more slippery. 

Your right knee connects with the floor, right as the stinging pain returns to your throat. The sudden shock has you digging your knees, hands, and toes in the floor, heightening the pain you were already in.

The pain in your neck is once again gone and you’re left shaking and sobbing as blood puddles around your hands and knees.

“You know how to crawl. Go faster before you piss me off.”

You don’t know why you’re surprised he wants you to crawl faster, causing worse damage to your body. Of course he does. Why would you ever expect to be granted mercy?

You take a deep breath and squeeze your eyes shut tightly. At least you won’t have to see the glass you’re crawling into.

You’re still crawling fairly slowly, but a lot faster compared to your previous pace. You’re whining and groaning in pain and you feel the glass embedded deeply in your skin connect with even more glass. Your lower legs and toes are dragging glass behind you.

You feel the burning pain throughout your hands and legs, but you focus on moving your body forward. 

“Open your eyes.”

You ignore his demands. You’re doing what he’s asking of you and he has the audacity to ask for even more.

“Look at me when you crawl to me. I will not tell you again. Unless you’d like another… shock of encouragement.”

You raise your chin up from your chest and shakily look up at him, opening your eyes. He smiles at you for listening to him and you wanna rip his fucking face off.

Your heart sinks when you realize you’ve only crawled half way so far. The pain is absolutely nauseating and you’re choking down the bile that keeps rising in your throat. 

You begin crawling once again, vision blurry from the tears that are continuously falling.

All you feel is the agonizing pain as you force yourself to Leon’s blurry figure. You’re on the verge of passing out from the pain when you finally place yourself between his legs.

He runs his fingers through your tangled hair, almost soothingly. And you want so badly to jerk your head away, to run from his movements, but you can’t help but give yourself over to the gentle touch. His comfort somehow pulls you back down to Earth from your pain induced robotic state.

“Show me your hands, bunny.”

You go to push yourself up but red hot pain rages through your hands and knees, causing you to scream out in pain. Your body goes to collapse from the sheer exertion, but Leon is quick to catch you, steadying you and forcing you on your knees with your wrists in his hands.

You’re shaking as the glass embedded into your knees is forced deeper into your skin beneath your newly distributed weight. You take deep breaths as you adjust to the new level of pain. Bile fills your mouth, but you’re able to force it back down, the burning sensation of it only adding to your misery.

Your eyes open again after shutting in response to the pain. Your vision clears and you find Leon studying your destroyed hands.

Blood is still oozing from your countless wounds, shards of glass sticking out of your palms and fingers. Your hands and forearms are covered in blood, you can barely see your skin tone through the mess. Your hands are unrecognizable. 

He tsks as he continues to look over them. “These are useless to me now. Shame.”

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion at his words, not sure what the implications of his words are. He releases your wrists and you let your hands fall limply into your lap. When his hands move to his belt and he starts unbuckling it, you gasp and try to move away from him but are instantly met with sharp shooting pains in your legs from your injuries.

You’re stuck in place and there’s nothing you can do about it. Anything you could possibly need to do will require Leon’s help. Just how he planned it. 

Rope, duct tape, or any other typical restraints are so boring. Glass being embedded into your skin as you sit in your own blood? Now, that’s new and fascinating. You’re a cute little test subject for his vile thoughts and ideas.

He slides the zipper down his pants and you finally look down at what he’s doing. 

What the fuck? He’s hard, not just hard, but really fucking hard and about to pull his dick out right in your face.

Your throat is raw from your previous wailing so your words come out scratchy. “What, what are you doing?”

“Oh, baby… Look how hard you’ve made my cock. It’s only fair that you let me cream that tight, hot throat in return.”

“What?”

“Oh don’t be such a fucking prude.” He rolls his eyes as he stands before you, sliding his pants and boxers down just enough for his cock to pop out, his tip poking your lips. You attempt to pull your head back, but his hand is quick to grab onto your hair and push your face into his cock. You’re frantically trying to turn your face away from him, but it only has him gripping your hair impossibly tighter.

“Now, now. You don’t need another shock of encouragement do you?”

“N-no. Please.”

“Then start sucking. And don’t try anything smart because I am more than happy to shock your annoying little ass again.”

Before you can even prepare yourself, he’s pressing his fingers into your cheeks and forcing your mouth open, immediately shoving his cock into the back of your throat. You’re instantly gagging. And you’re already so close to throwing up that you’re certain you’re going to puke all over this man's dick.

“See, princess? You don’t want me to do it my way. So fucking behave and don’t stop until I’m creaming that fucking mouth.”

He pulls his dick out and you’re immediately running your tongue up and down his tip. You’re ready to do anything to keep him from choking you like that again. 

“Make me cum in less than two minutes and maybe I’ll consider sparing you.”

You suck his tip into your wet mouth, the taste of his precum flooding your taste buds.

“There ya go. You’re so hot, all dirty and bloody for me. Fuck, I’m gonna cum so fast. Pretty bunny has such a good mouth when she’s not running it.” He chuckles at his own words as you quickly bob your mouth up and down on his dick.

“Just like that. You ready to taste me, baby? Need to cream this throat.”  He speaks quickly as he starts to thrust, meeting every bob of your head. His grip in your hair tightens as his hips still and he holds his tip against the back of your throat.

You resist the urge to gag and cough as you feel his cum fill your throat. You think he’ll never be done when he finally pulls himself from your mouth and stuffs his cock back in his pants. He refastens his belt and turns to walk away, but stops and looks down at you.

“Here.” He grabs your shoulder, causing you to gasp, as he pushes you down to the floor, until you’re laying on your back. “I’ll spare you.”

And then he’s quickly leaving the house, confident that you’re not going anywhere anytime fast. You realize you’re in less pain being off your hands and knees and breathe a sigh of relief. Your weight is distributed better over the glass, so your back and legs only tingle and sting slightly.

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

You’re not sure how much time passes as you drift in and out of sleep, but when the front door finally opens, you can’t mask your excitement at Leon finally returning.

“Leon?” You call out in a happy, relieved voice.

“Hi, bunny. How are you doing?” His tone is lighter than you’ve ever heard it before and it fills you with hope.

“I’m gonna piss my pants, can you take me to the bathroom?” The back of your legs are getting badly cut up because you can’t keep your body still as your bladder throbs and aches.

“Sweetheart, you’re so silly.”

His tone is mocking. “What?” You're obviously confused and it has him shaking his head.

“That’s not my problem.”

“I can’t get up.” You whine out, praying he’ll give in and help you.

“I know,” he coos at you, “You’re gonna have to just piss yourself then. But don’t worry, I’ll stay here and watch.”

“What?” 

“It hurts, doesn’t it?”

“Yes. It hurts so much.”

“And you know exactly what will relieve you of that pain don’t you?”

“But I can’t get myself up.”

“That’s too bad.”

You’re so fucking confused. You don’t understand what his game is here. It has to be about control, the humiliation it’ll bring you. You squeeze your eyes shut tightly and try your best to pretend this isn’t happening, but the pain is only getting worse and worse.

“Bunny… Just relax. You’ll feel better if you just relax.”

“Fuck no, Leon. No fucking way.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes!” You open your eyes and give him a dirty look. “I’m not going to lay on the floor in my own blood and piss! What’s wrong with you?”

He smiles as he shakes his head, “You don’t have a choice, baby.”

You don’t know what to say to him. What can you say? Beg for his help? Hope he actually cares? It’s all so useless. You find yourself squeezing your eyes shut and clenching every muscle in your body. This is so stupid, so fucking stupid.

“You really want my help?” Leon breaks the silence, pulling you from your thoughts.

You look up at him once again, “Please.”

“Okay, I’ll help you.” You breathe a sigh of relief. He’s going to help you, there’s some sort of hope. If he can find it in himself to help you now, maybe you’ll be okay. Maybe everything will fall into place.

He reaches into his pants pocket and pulls out a familiar remote. Your eyes widen in shock, realizing what he’s about to do. “Wait, Leon, don’t-”

But you aren’t even able to finish your statement before the shocks are shooting into your body and every muscle tenses up in resistance. A few seconds feel like minutes before the pain stops and your body goes limp on the ground. Every muscle in your body softens.

Before you can even process what’s happening, before your mind even comes back to yourself, you register a warmth growing on your thighs and ass. The warmth spreads further as you come back to yourself.

The second you realize what’s happening, you wish you’d remained oblivious. You try to stop it, but your body is so weakened that you have no more control. 

You lay on the floor in your dried blood mixing with your hot piss. You’re no longer peeing, but the humiliation has tears welling up in your eyes.

The liquid starts to cool quickly in the chilly air and it has you shivering on the floor. It has you wishing you were dead.

Suddenly, Leon’s petting your head and hushing you. “You’re a good girl, you know that? Did such a good job for me.”

Your eyes dart up to his face. “What?”

“So pretty like this. All wet and helpless.” Your thighs clench together at the praise, furthering your humiliation. Leon notices immediately and smirks down at you. “Let’s get you to bed, shall we?”

You whine as he lifts you in his arms. You’re slack in his arms because of the extensive injuries to your body. You feel your piss soaked body pressed against him and knowing your piss is getting on him makes you wanna vomit.

But that’s not the only thing you feel. This time it’s a lot less surprising, but doesn’t make things make any more sense. His erection pressed against your ass and you don’t have the energy to point it out or try to push yourself away from it.

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

Thankfully, not a whole lot of glass is embedded in the skin of your back, so you can happily lay in the blankets piled on top of the mattress without causing yourself any more pain.

You lay with your arms against your sides, avoiding making contact with your hands. Every time you look at your hands, your stomach twists and turns at the deformed skin. They’re cut to shit and glass shards stick out haphazardly all throughout the skin.

“Are you comfortable?” Leon asks as he runs a cold, wet washcloth across your forehead.

“As comfortable as I can be.”

“Good, good.” Leon gets up and walks across the room. You let your eyes fall shut, your body crying out for blissful sleep.

You hear Leon’s footsteps approach your bedside, not bothering to open your eyes. You’re not even sure you could open your eyes if you wanted to.

“Baby, keep your eyes shut for me, alright?” You nod as he softly caresses your cheek, pushing your hair from your face. 

“Can you stick your tongue out for me? I got a surprise for you.” You hum in response, too tired to question him. But you couldn’t help the hope growing in your stomach at the thought he might finally give you some water or food.

You lol your tongue out as far as you can and feel him grab it with his thumb and pointer finger. He grips it tightly. You’re not sure why he’s doing it, but once again, you’re too exhausted to question him or resist it.

“This will be quick.” 

You make a “huh” sound as best as you can with your tongue in its current position, and that’s when you hear a disgusting snip sound followed by squelching. 

You start screaming as excruciating pain sets in. Your screams are cut short as you start choking on your own blood, the liquid pouring from the wound and slipping down your throat.

Leon grabs you by the back of your neck and pulls you into a sitting position, allowing the blood to pour down your chin rather than your throat. Your body is shaking from the pain, you’re on the verge of passing out, feeling the darkness creeping up on you, awaiting to consume you completely.

“There you go, baby. I got rid of the thing that causes you the most trouble. You’re perfect now.”

Your tears pour down your face, mixing with the blood coming from your mouth. You look down at the bedspread in front of you and the sight of your severed tongue has your vision going foggy. You let out one final cry before passing out from the pain and blood loss.

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

It’s been fourteen years, but you still remember it like it was yesterday. You relive those events every fucking day of your miserable existence. It doesn’t help that you have optimal time to think about it in your small prison cell on death row.

Of course he handed you over to the police with some elaborate story on how he found you out and when he confronted you, you went crazy and mutilated yourself. And of course, you can’t properly defend yourself, considering he took your fucking tongue. You could write out your claims of innocence over and over, but how could you possibly convey it with words alone?

Leon framed you for all of the murders. Planted all the evidence at your apartment and in your car, “finding” all the overlooked leads in your office. It was a pretty open and shut case. Took the jury less than an hour to find you guilty and for you to get sentenced to death.

Tomorrow’s the day. You’ll finally get the lethal injection and be free from your own personal purgatory. You’re confined to a prison cell by yourself 24/7 considering if you show your face outside of it, other inmates are instantly on you. You’re America’s most brutal female serial killer, how could they not want to kill you?

It’d be too easy if the prison would just let the other inmates go through with it. Just put you out of your misery and throw your body into the prison’s graveyard. But no. No amount of suffering will ever be enough to pay for “your” crimes.

You hate yourself. You look at your unrecognizable, mutilated hands and all you can do is sigh as you slip one down between your spread thighs to relieve the ache you feel between them.

In your line of work, you were well aware that trauma could cross wires in your brain. You can’t control your trauma responses. But the fact that your pussy is always soaking wet when you think about his dick in your mouth and the praising words he spoke to you is torture in itself.

You try to think of anything else, anything else at all. Even when your fantasies don’t revolve around that man, you can’t get yourself off without thinking of what he did to you. 

As you lay in bed, shirt stuffed between your teeth to silence your sounds, you feel your climax grow closer and closer and his face above you is all you can see. And no matter how many times you go over it with yourself, telling yourself it’s a trauma response, you know the truth. You know that deep down you loved what he did to you and the only thing that makes you so angry is the fact that he put you here.

Here in this cold, lonely cell to waste away for the rest of your days. Leaving you with a heart, soul, and cunt that aches for him. You know what he’s done and you hate it, but you can’t bring yourself to hate him.

And as your wetness runs down your fingers, coating your palm in the proof of exactly what he does to you, all you can think about is that fucking day. You’re going to die tomorrow and here you are touching yourself to the man that put you here.

Your orgasm tears through you, leaving you a shaking and shivering mess in your threadbear sheets on your paper thin cot. It’d be so much easier to hate him, but you have the curse of hating yourself instead. 

Tomorrow you will die and pay for your crimes. And maybe the crimes you’ll be dying for aren’t yours, but you still deserve to pay for being so fucked in the head. So you’re happy, almost giddy to be dying tomorrow. 

Maybe you’ve gone mad, or maybe you were always mad to begin with and it took him coming along to pull it out of you. Either way, not like it fucking matters. You’ll still be dead and he’ll still be a free man. But you caught the killer and for that, you’ll always be a good fucking detective. 

~masterlist~

#DEAD DOVE #dead dove do not eat #dead dove fic #leon kennedy #leon kennedy smut #smut #resident evil #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x y/n #leon kennedy x you #leon s kennedy #leon s kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy smut #leon s kennedy x you #leon s kennedy x y/n #leon kennedy angst #leon s kennedy angst #leon smut #leon angst #resident evil 4 #resident evil 6 #resident evil 2 #resident evil smut #resident evil fanfiction #infinite darkness #infinite darkness leon #serial killer! leon #ghostface leon kennedy #serial killer leon kennedy #ghostface! leon

[cherubify]

SMILE FOR THE CAMERA / LEON KENNEDY

6.1k words

cw: corruption, stalking, doppelganger themes, dirty talk, attempted sa, dubcon, hints of mindbreak/exhibitionism/overstimulation, fingering, creampie, unprotected p-in-v, use of pet names, fellatio, filming, dead dove do not eat, minors dni

a/n: this was written for an anonie's reqqy! it marinated in my wips for a few weeks (mb!) so it feels kinda off to me + i kept changing the title but.. yeah! n special thanks to my trusted beta reader @xoxostarlet!! <3 ok i'll shut up now but enjoy!

There’s a saying out there– something about how there are more than seven people in the world who share the same face as you. Despite possibly living in a distant community, with a foreign tongue and having one’s own idiosyncrasies, there’s someone out there who resembles you. A doppelganger, is what most people called it, right? Leon hasn’t met anyone who looks like him yet, though he’s heard passersby comment on how he looked like a model whose name was always on the tip of his tongue.

It must be a prank pulled by the heavens when they created people, forgetting to register their creations as solely unique individuals and reusing their faces for a recycled project. At least, that’s what he thinks when he finds yet another film, with its poster girl bearing a striking resemblance to the store clerk. A knowing smile crept up his face as he strolled over to the front desk.

You sat behind a long counter, homework precariously piled up as you scribbled your answers onto the papers. A cash register and your laptop accompanied you on your side. He set his selection of the day beside your papers, prompting you to look up.

“This one again? You borrowed it last week, Mr Kennedy,” you commented with a shaky laugh.

The man on the other side of the counter was an older man with a face and body of strong and hard corners everywhere. He was dressed in grey sweats and a hoodie, the hood draped over his side swept dirty blonde hair. Leon was what he told you to call him, but the desire to maintain personal distance led you to calling him by his family name instead.

“What can I say? It’s a good way to kick my feet up.” His arms were folded on the counter as he leaned towards you.

You snorted inwardly. Yeah, kicking your feet up by getting off to these… morbid tapes, huh? You read the summary of all the films he rented before. They were about dark things you’d never want to be involved in. Random films centred around dark plots, such as Stockholm syndrome, hardcore BDSM and the like. Perfect for twisted people with twisted fantasies. But not for you, you were proud to say you lived a mostly peaceful and non traumatised life, and you would keep it that way.

It’s not that you wanted to kink shame; people could watch whatever they wanted. But having to rent out these tapes to a shameless guy like him was uncomfortable. And he was making you feel even more uncomfortable when he waltzed up to the counter, showing you his findings of the day. What a weirdo. At least act a little embarrassed like the other customers, wouldn’t you?

However, you shoved down your grievances and processed his purchase on the register. Once you finished, you passed both the film and a receipt to him. He took it from your grasp, warm fingers brushing against yours. You immediately withdrew your hand and discreetly rubbed your skin raw against your jeans.

Nothing went unnoticed by him, including your poorly hidden disgust. His lips curled on his face, he knew what you were thinking– most people didn’t relax by renting adult films. If only you knew his true intentions. Why he chose this specific film to rent again.

You jabbed the back of the store with your thumb, attention returning to your homework. Beside the staff room and a tiny toilet, there was another door that led to a room: the viewing room. He entered, closing the door behind him softly. It was furnished the same as always: a family sized couch with cushions. No windows or lights, just a single projector, a screen and speakers. A viewing room to watch the store’s rented shows and only that.

Not that he couldn’t view it at home, but he wanted to do it here. In this room, in the back of a store you had no choice but to man alone. He knew the sounds leaked into the hall and into the sales floor. And the actress in this film had impressively exaggerated moans. Which was why he liked this certain film. He knew your face would be distorted with horror as you struggled to put up with it for the next hour. Plus the second hand embarrassment you experienced when other customers entered (not that there were many to begin with).

He chuckled softly whilst setting up the screening. When it began to play, he slumped onto the couch, arms crossed. He knew you noticed the resemblance you shared with the poster girl. Knew the uneasy glances you’d send him whenever you caught him browsing through the adult film section. It was fun pushing your buttons– seeing your innocent face distort with horror, embarrassment, shame whenever you scanned the films he chose. You certainly noticed the increasing resemblance of all the actresses to you. It was clear as day from the tautness in your smile as you forced out a polite ‘thank you’ when he returned the goods.

He tried to focus on the actress on the screen. A girl who shared the same hair colour and clothing style as you. There were some similarities in your faces, but only as far as the curve of your jaw and the curl of your lips. A mismatch in voice, sure, but when the woman on the screen moaned, he wondered if you replicated such a sound. The thought made him swell a little in his sweats. He shifted uncomfortably on the couch.

Like the girl on screen, he wanted to bend you over a kitchen table as you wore nothing but a frilly apron and underwear. He’d rip your panties off and bury his face between your perfect butt and-

A knock on the door snapped him out of his daze. He paused the show and it creaked open to reveal you, standing hesitantly. Your eyes shifted from him to the screen, pupils dilating as they adjusted to the darkness of the room. You tried to hide the way your eyes flitted from the screen to him. The same old expression on your face as your bottom lip quivered.

“Um… I can hear everything,” you told him- and he knew, but he listened anyway, “It’ll bother the customers, so please keep it down.”

Or go home. He knew those words were on the tip of your tongue. There were no other customers around (probably) but he smiled anyway and complied, just because you asked nicely. He jabbed the volume button once.

“Sure, but maybe a kiss would convince me, darling.” He called out, but you barely heard it over the creaking of the door as you closed it.

Always running away before he could shoot his shot. Like a game of mouse and cat, a fitting analogy considering how you’d tremble in his presence and flee with your metaphorical tail between your legs. He chuckled and resumed the film, the volume a single decibel lower while you sat at the counter, shaking your head.

In your eyes, Leon was a bit of a troublemaker. You weren’t naive enough to be fooled by his clueless facade. You knew that he got a kick out of the distress he put you in when he played his fine selection for the day. He could go home instead– in fact, you had a right to kick him out. But your boss instructed you to be kind to regulars, such as Mr Kennedy here. So what more could you do besides put on your customer service smile and voice? After all, customers were always right. You’d like to believe that if it weren’t for the amount of trouble he gave you by entering the store. If he pushed any further you were sure to blacklist him from the store for good.

When he came out, you watched hopefully. Hoping that he’d walk out of the door. But then he began searching through the aisles and before you knew it, he set another box onto the counter again. An adult film with its poster girl sitting on a couch sultrily, her hair colour and hair parted the way you did yours. Last time his choice was a girl with the same fashion sense as you. All of his selections consisted of girls that took after you. Quite the strange coincidences, but you chalked it up to just you having run-of-the-mill features.

“Come again,” you grimaced inwardly. You hoped he wouldn't, but when he left he cast you a knowing smile over your shoulder. You groaned aloud, because you knew he would.

You worked at the rental video shop temporarily, home from college for summer break when your pockets were emptier than you recalled. This store was an easy choice, simply because it was right across your apartment complex. The close proximity meant you could just tumble out of bed in the morning and clock in with your pjs. The owner was a decrepit man who was out of town half the time, so he couldn’t be bothered with what was happening except meeting the bare sales requirements.

Retail life was no stranger, but this was the most relaxing it had ever been in your job history. It was a joy working in this store, believe it or not. Truly a pity it was only temporary. No naggy managers or bossy coworkers. Just you and the occasional customer wandering among dusty aisles. Speaking of dust…

You checked the time– a few minutes left before closing. It took a mere second to find Leon, whose blonde’s head peaked above a low row of shelves. You guessed he was sifting through another peculiar genre. So you left him to it as you entered the back and into the staff room. Unbeknownst to you, the front door jingled as someone stepped onto the sales floor.

When you finally returned, you were armed with a step ladder and a duster, the latter missing more than half of its feathers. Despite its haggard appearance, it was clearly not being put to use, apparent from the store’s dust infested furniture. Perhaps the store’s sorry state was a contributory factor for the lack of visitors. You set the ladder down at the front of the store and began dusting from top to bottom.

A cough alerted Leon’s attention to you and he peeked up from the boxes in his hands. You stood precariously on the top, a hand clutched over your nose as you dusted a shelf. From where he stood, he could see cotton peeking from your loose shorts. He set the goods down to grip either side of the ladder’s frame.

“I don’t think this rickety thing’s stable enough for you to use, sweetheart,” he commented, prompting you to look at him. “You should come down before you fall.”

“I’m fine, Mr Kennedy. I’ve got everything under control,” you began cleaning again when you inhaled some dust. Your eyebrows furrowed, then your face crinkled as you sneezed. And ironically you fell. A shout and a thud followed, and you found yourself in his arms.

He had an awkward grip on you, having caught you suddenly with open arms. His arm was wrapped around your thighs and the space below your shoulder blades. The vice grip on the fat of your thighs caused your face to explode with red.

“Oh my god- I’m sorry!” You gasped as you wriggled in his arms, begging to be put down. He yielded and you were onto your feet again. You backed away from him, hands clasped apologetically. “I’m so sorry. Did I hurt you? Are you- are you okay?”

He laughed, and it’s an airy, low sound. The regular crossed his arms and leaned against the ladder. “I’m fine. And you?”

“Y-Yeah. But I guess I should throw this out,” you rubbed the back of your head sheepishly.

“Let me,” he offered and he swiftly walked out with it in tow. The entrance jingled before closing behind him as he disappeared.

You rubbed your arms awkwardly, the heat from your face dissipating as you exhaled shakily. Maybe you were wrong about him. Leon was quite a nice guy. Now, if it weren’t for his weird fetishes, maybe you’d give him a chance. You shook your head. What were you thinking? He was just a customer. You sighed and picked up your fallen duster.

You turned your back to an approaching man. Footsteps behind you prompted you to look up, and you expected a blonde but was mistaken. Your face was shoved against a shelf, the old thing creaked as it leaned back then back onto its corners. Your wrists were held behind you by a gloved hand, and you strained to see the perpetrator but the grip on the back of your head prevented you.

“Just stay quiet and it’ll be over soon,” it was a hushed voice, unfamiliar and muffled. “–be a good girl and stay still.”

“Who are you calling a good girl?” You gritted your teeth and struggled against your captor’s hold. “If you don’t let me go, I’ll-”

“Uh uh–” something cold pressed against your neck. Was that… a knife? “–It’d be better if you don’t struggle.”

You froze as the blade dug into the column of your throat. The stranger released your wrists to wander a gloved hand along the curve of your spine. It hurt to swallow, and you struggled to breathe as the molestor’s hand dipped into your shorts. Was this how your summer break would end? An assault in the store you part-timed in for quick cash?

Your train of thought was derailed when a grunt echoed in the store. The blade was withdrawn and clattered onto the floor, and you whirled around to find a masked man collapsed on the floor. Standing behind him was Leon, who swiftly pocketed a gun into a holster on his belt. You gaped at him– has he always carried that on him?

“Are you okay?” Leon stepped over the body to grip your shoulders. His wide eyes scrutinised your smaller frame. “Did he hurt you?”

You looked at his hands then at him, “I… I think I’m alright.”

The man frowned and studied the unconscious man with a hardened expression. He dialled for the cops and filed a brief report. Afterwards, he dragged the molester outside the store, where he tied his wrists to a lamp post. The man was limp throughout, unconscious from whatever Leon had pulled. You clutched your arms as you sat at the cash register, eyes fixated on the counter.

A first aid kit came into view. Leon stood on the other side, a sheepish smile on his lips. “I found this in the back,” he said softly, digging through it. He produced a disinfectant wipe and a bandaid.

Only when he reached out to you did you notice the wound on your neck. It stung, and you gingerly touched it. Beads of blood sat on your finger. It was a little cut that had bled into the collar of your top. He dabbed the swab of disinfectant against the wound, and you hissed. His hand found yours, and he held it as you squirmed in your seat.

“It’ll sting for a bit, but better safe than sorry,” he murmured.

“I’m not a wuss, I can take it- Ow!” You jumped in your seat when he pushed the swab deeper against the cut. The two of you exchanged a look, and the corner of his lips tilted up in amusement. You kept your eyes on the ceiling, lips pursed.

Then he placed a bandaid over the wound and his fingers ghosted over it. “There. All better,” he sighed.

He withdrew his hand except the one in yours. You ogled at the larger hand in yours, at the way his slender fingers were comfortably interlaced with your shaky ones. Just like two pieces of a puzzle, perfectly slotted into one another. You tried to banish the thought. You exhaled softly, and you squeezed your trembling lips together into a feeble smile.

“Thanks, Leon.”

“Don’t mention it,” he smiled back. In that moment, he was all you could see. Not the arrival of the police car outside the store or the officers standing by the criminal, but just him.

A moment of silence passed before he spoke again. “So I take it you’re dropping the formalities?”

The blonde was referencing how you always called him by his family name and not his first name. You refused to answer, the faint blush on your cheeks sufficed. He squeezed your hand, and you squeezed back.

Leon accompanied you for the rest of the night. He stayed beside you in the police station, drove you back to the store and assisted you in the cleaning duties. Despite the incident, life moved on, and you were responsible for the night duty chores as the sole employee. Areas unaccessible by you were managed by him, and you found yourself appreciating his company. Although he was a creepy regular, he was quite sweet. You didn’t have to force yourself to laugh at his crappy jokes that night.

And though you were pretty sure he shouldn’t know where you lived, you let him accompany you to your doorstep after closing shift. He bid you goodbye with a gentle pat on your head, and you found yourself staring at the place he stood for a while. You sat in your bathtub, hugging your knees to your chest. Water enveloped your body in the cold of midnight, and you leaned your head against the cool tiles. Your eyes were glazed over with tears as you recounted the recent events.

Thank goodness he was there. If Leon hadn’t been there, something terrible would’ve happened. You wanted to see him again. Maybe you’d give him a thank you gift. It’d be only fair, right?

. . .

“What’s business like this week?” He enquired as you scanned the good in your hand. This time he came in with a different colour of sweats, with a stain on the hem of his blue sweater.

It had been a while since you last saw him. Maybe a week since that night.

“Slow,” you sighed, returning the film to him. The colours on the box’s cover were washed out, and the actress was a blurry blob of colours. Her hair colour and body type matched yours, but that was all you could make out. So you chose to close an eye. “My boss is gonna be so mad about the sales.”

“My bad. If it weren’t for work, I’d be here more often,” the blonde commented.

“You’re a hard worker, aren’t you?” You teased, to which he placed a hand over his heart.

“You don’t know half of it, sweetheart.” Your cheeks tingled at the pet name. Wait– what? “The higher ups owe me more breaks.”

You cleared your throat. “Even if you did, don’t you have better places to be?”

“I’d say you make good company,” he grinned boyishly. Your heart fluttered a little. Wow, what was seriously happening to you?

“Anyways-” He tilted the film in his hand, “-wanna watch this together?”

Fat chance. Just because he was growing on you didn’t mean you were ready to sit in a tiny room with him on a couch, just the two of you in the dark. You’d tell him that, but he read your expression independently and laughed. When he disappeared into the viewing room, your attention turned to the register’s screen where an alert had popped up.

Invalid barcode. Please contact staff.

Huh? You copied the barcode number and manually entered it into the system. The same system popup appeared and you scratched your head, confused. Muffled noises leaked into the sales floor and you stepped away from the counter. Maybe he took a show that failed to register in the system?

You stood outside the door and listened. Was now a good time to enter? You hesitated and held the door knob. A soft moan stopped you in your tracks– followed by a whimper and some incoherent noises.

Weird. For a second there it almost sounded like you. Was the actress a sound-alike too?

You finally opened the door, peaking into the room as the door creaked ajar. It was dark as you expected, just the singular beam of light from the projector that shone onto the screen. Strange enough, you found no one on the couch, only a rolling film on screen. Your dilated pupils shifted to the screen, and you practically swung the door open.

A girl– no, it was you. You were on screen. Laying on bed with a fluffy towel crumpled beside you as your body glistened with droplets, courtesy of your bath. A bead of sweat trailed down your nape, dumbfounded as the you from that night had her fingers buried between her trembling legs. Your face was contorted with pleasure, and you bit the back of your hand to stifle your delighted noises.

How? This couldn’t be happening. You wanted to assure yourself that it was fake, but even you knew there was no denying its authenticity. The camera was shaky, and you scrunched up your brows. The angle… you recognised the angle. You were being filmed from your bedroom windows.

The scene abruptly cut to another one, this time it was of you in your bedroom, standing naked before your mirror. Your hands traced your silhouette, hands wandering down your naked body as you inspected yourself in the mirror. Sleepwear and underwear were gathered haphazardly in a pile behind you. A matching set of underwear on your bed.

It felt like a giant ball of cotton was shoved into your mouth; you swallowed dryly. Your feet moved and you stood behind the couch, your knees feeling like they may give out at any moment. This was last week. How did such a creep go unnoticed by you? Who was filming you? And how did all these get into the store? And– You searched the room frantically. Where was Leon?

The door creaked closed, and you found the devil himself blocking the way out. Another clip played on screen, and you pried your eyes from him to look back at it in horror.

“Nicely edited, don’t you think?” His sneakers thumped against the carpet softly. He stood behind you, arms trapping you against the couch from behind. You flinched at the warm breath that fanned your ear. His fingers fiddled with the hem of your shirt.

“I think I deserve a round of applause for it.”

“L-Leon…” your voice cracked. You should be screaming and pushing him off, like you did before with that man. This was a similar situation, right? So why was your heart hammering in your chest like this?

“What is it, sweetheart?”

His voice was a low murmur against your ear, and you shivered. His voice sounded like it was literally in your head, reverberating in the cavern of your mind. Your breath hitched as a warm hand slid under your shirt.

He unclasped your bra with ease, and his hands slid under it to gently cup the curves of your chest. His hands engulfed them easily, and he fondled them half-heartedly while pressing soft kisses along the column of your neck. His lips grazed over the scabbed wound, and you gripped the couch to stabilise yourself.

You should hate it, but your voice failed to protest when he led you to the couch to lay down. He bundled the hem of your top into your mouth, muffling your squeaks when he slipped his hands underneath your loose bra to run his fingers along the circumference of your areola. His thumbs prodded at your nipples, and you squirmed a little at the tingling sensations running along your chest. He pushed your bra aside and flicked his tongue against one of your nipples. Your fingers gripped the blonde’s tresses whilst he teased your perky buds with his warm tongue, lapping at them painfully slowly.

Leon’s other hand traced down your body until he reached your bottoms. He tugged it off your legs, throwing it behind his shoulder. His fingers wandered to the gusset of your panties where a damp patch had formed. The regular stroked your slit through the thin cloth, and you whimpered softly at his ministrations. All the while his eyes were fixated on you, never looking away as he licked your chest like a starving pup begging for milk.

He pulled your panties aside to squeeze a finger into your tightness, and your gaze shifted to where he was connected to you. A finger disappeared into you, and you squeezed your thighs in disapproval as he tried to fit another. Not that it could stop him when he forced into you one more, and you trembled at the stretch from his digits. The blonde wrapped his tongue around one of the swollen buds on your chest, his free hand pinching and tugging on the other.

“Mhnn,” you hummed softly. Moisture clung to your lashes.The intensity in his baby blues beckoned you into the brink of your sanity, and you threw your head back to guard yourself against his tempting call.

“Don’t be shy,” he withdrew from your chest with a pop. He tugged your top out of your mouth. “Let me hear you, sweetheart. Moan for me.”

His padded fingers prodded inside you experimentally , and a certain spot elicited an embarrassingly loud mewl. The blonde grinned boyishly as he fingered that gummy spot, jamming into it harder and deeper with each cry he drew out of you. Biting the back of your hand, your lashes fluttered unsteadily as you twisted and turned, a strange feeling pulsating deep within you. Your hand found purchase in his hair again, tugging on his silky strands in a silent plea. Whether to stop or for more, only god knew.

But then he stopped, and the heat from his body dissipated. You opened your eyes to see the man shed his sweater, pulling the navy blue article over his scarred body. With a shaky hand, you placed your hand over a scar on his chest and traced the protruding tissue. You frowned- what he had gone through to amass the plethora of scars before you?

The jingling of his belt tore your attention back to his torso. He tugged his pants down to reveal the bulging outline of his hard-on through his boxers. You didn’t mean to stare, but you struggled to tear your eyes away and it didn’t go unnoticed by him. He carded his bangs with his fingers, pushing them back as he smirked.

“Like what you see? ‘Cuz my eyes are up here.”

Your ears were hot, and you held your breath as he pressed a kiss to your knee. Then he kissed the inside of your thighs until he reached your clothed core, to the drenched gusset of your panties. His lips quirk up in a pleased smirk, and he kissed it before tugging your panties off. It landed atop your long forgotten bottoms, and he swept them off the couch and they crumpled onto the floor.

He planted his hands on either side of you, trapping you underneath him. But for some reason you weren’t scared, no, your heart pounded in anticipation when he leaned in. Maybe you wanted this all along, and you stared into his deep blue eyes when fists suddenly pounded on the door. The thuds echoed in the viewing room, and the both of you jumped.

“Excuse me? Hello…? Is anyone around?”

Your eyes flitted to the door and at the knob as it jingled. But Leon had locked it earlier- thank god- and the customer repeated their question once more. You hesitated before opening your mouth, but he clamped his hand over your lips. You shot him a look, but he answered you with a deep kiss. His plush lips tangled with yours, biting and gnawing on the softness of your own. His kiss was like the ocean, an uncharted wonder that submerged you deeper and deeper with each press of his lips against yours. No thoughts resided in your head, all you could think about was him and his warmth.

Meanwhile, he pushed the back of your thighs, pressing your knees to your chest. The weight of his upper body sandwiched them to your swollen chest, and he ran a finger between your sticky folds before finally slipping in.

He growled against the corner of your lips, and your nails wandered along his back. Pink crescents glowed red as you dug your nails under his shoulder blades, and you whimpered softly. The stretch hurt more than it did with his fingers. He shushed your cries with saliva stained kisses along the corners of your mouth. A sweet haze swirled in your mind, muffling the knocking on the door in favour of the groans from the man sandwiching you to the couch.

“Fuck-” he buried his face in the crook of your shoulder. He was finally hilted within you. His hips stuttered and he struggled to unsheathe himself. He mumbled something into your skin, a hand gripping the back of your knees for support. He withdrew until there was only the tip left, then he slowly filled you up again. Over and over, he plunged deep and slow, drawing pretty moans from you. Soft plapping noises filled the room, a sound barely registered by you in your haze.

“Such a perfect little pussy,” the blonde murmured, his grip on your knees bruising. Strings of drool dribbled down your chin as you laid there limply for him to use. He weakly slapped your cheek with the tips of his fingers. “Look at you. Too drunk on my cock to think.”

Leon chuckled lowly, and you squealed when he slapped your clit. You clenched him harder, and he cursed as you throbbed around him. The veins running along his length pulsated angrily against your gummy confines, and he grabbed your chin to peer into your clouded eyes.

“You’re practically begging me to cum inside, sweetheart. You’d like that, yeah? Mhn… I know you would. Such a dirty slut. All mine.”

He dragged his tongue along the outline of your jaw, and you met his tongue with yours in an open mouthed kiss. His name was a broken song, rising in pitch as an overwhelming sensation escalated with each press of his pelvis against your clit. When you finally broke, you cried out in desperation and you came hard around him. He fucked you through your high, uncaring about the overstimulation racking your body as you convulsed underneath him. His pleasure would become yours, whether you liked it or not. When the thread in his abdomen finally snapped, he stuffed himself to the base and emptied his spent into you.

The warmth in your belly was comforting, lulling you into sleep when his voice tugged you awake. He stood beside the couch, phone in hand. A sleazy grin played on his swollen lips.

“Smile for the camera, sweetheart.”

You blearily raised a peace sign, the hem of your top between your teeth, bra hanging loosely. Uncaring of the cum and sweat all over your body, you managed a timid smile as the camera flashed. He snapped a photo and sunk into the seat beside you. A commemoration for today, and a little something for him (and you, if you’d like him to send it to you) to remember it.

You crawled over, nestling your head on his chest as your eyelids drooped close. Would your body suffice as a thank you for saving you that day? You hoped he’d ask for more. You nuzzled into the warmth of his chest.

Meanwhile, Leon inspected the pixelated photo. He was deeply pleased with his work, and he kissed the top of your head. You were slipping into a plane of unconsciousness, and he tucked stray hairs behind your ear.

“That’s my girl.”

. . .

“Use your tongue,” He whispered. The heavy hand on your head stroked your hair tenderly, and you gazed up at him through hooded eyes. He laid on his back, on the couch as you knelt between his spread legs.

The projector had long stopped rolling its film, and a single beam of white light illuminated the viewing room. Who knew how much time had passed. All that mattered was pleasing him, so that you could earn his smile, and if you were lucky, his attention.

He clenched his teeth as your canines grazed his pulsing veins. You licked his tip apologetically, earning a low chuckle from him. Your stomach fluttered at the sound, and you closed your eyes as you continued nursing him with your tongue.

“That’s it,” he hissed. He tightened his grip on his phone, and his screen reflected you in it. A red icon incessantly blinked in the upper corner of the screen. In the darkness, a smile snuck onto his face, “Show me what that mouth can do.”

(BONUS)

A month. That was all the rest days he had accumulated after slaving away as the government’s killing machine for the past year. It was non negotiable, so he was going to make the best out of it- and he planned to burn through cheap booze and rewatching classics.

So Leon found himself in a rental video store, a bag in his calloused grip clunking with cans of cold beer, condensation clinging to the insides of the cheap plastic bag. He wandered along the aisles as an old fan nailed to the ceiling rotated in semicircles. The blades whirred at snail's pace, practically useless as even the dust sitting on top of the shelves barely flinched. Sun rays filtered in from the space between the top of the shelves and the glass walls. White light from the rows of blinking LED lights above lit up the dinghy shop. The store was quiet and unmanned, and as he stood at the counter, eyes searching for the clerk, the bell hanging above the door chimed as it swung open.

A young woman, he raised a curious brow- why was she working in a place like this? You were dressed in skimpy pyjamas when you burst in. Your hair was barely tied up, face bare skinned and lips cracking. You licked them nervously when your eyes fell on him- and he stared expectantly at you.

“I’m so sorry!” You cried as you scrambled to the other side of the counter. “I had to leave the store unattended for a moment- Please don’t tell my boss.”

Fumbling, you tapped buttons onto the register. Something must have gone wrong, because you cursed under your breath. Then you pushed your hair out of your eyes to meet his.

“I just got here,” he lied. He had waited for a while, staring at the cracks on the ceiling and at the clock with frozen hands. He was about to walk out without the tapes, even. But your frantic expression proved to be an amusing display, and he found himself smiling politely. “Don’t sweat it.”

“Thank you so much.” You heaved an exaggerated sigh of relief. You scanned his selections when your brows perked up, “Titanic? Didn’t know we had this.”

“Aren’t you working here?” Leon teased, and your cheeks flushed. Cute. He leaned in subconsciously as you flustered.

“W-Well, it’s my second day. I still don’t know where most things go- But I know we have classics and plenty of other… stuff.”

“Stuff, huh?” He laughed, and it was an airy one that deepened your blush.

You cleared your throat and swatted the air beside you, “You know, adult films and all. The geezer that owns this store has quite the collection.” You gestured at the back with your hand.

“Come back and take a looksie when you’re free, mister. It’ll be of great help. Y’know, for our sales,” you added.

“Maybe,” he said as he took the goods from you. He offered a friendly smile, and you smiled back. Really cute, he figured. So he promised to return.

He kept his word and returned after a single day. How could he not when you bid him goodbye, all smiles and giddy with gratitude. Did this job mean that much to you? He decided he’d spend some of his time watching more films then, since what else could he possibly do besides bar hopping for skirts and getting blacked out drunk at home? Plus, it was ridiculously cheap to rent these films, an actual steal.

As he wandered in the back, his eyes fell on a strange box with a cursive font. His curiosity got the better of him and he picked it up and stared at the model in the front. A woman with the same hair colour as you, the sole worker in this drab store. A knowing smile crept onto Leon’s face.

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

#resident evil #leon s kennedy #leon kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x fem reader #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy x y/n #leon kennedy smut #resident evil smut #leon kennedy oneshot #leon kennedy fic #resident evil fanfic #cw: dubcon #cw: stalker #cw: smut #cw: corruption #cw: mindbreak #mdni #minors do not interact #dead dove do not eat #minors dni

[becauseicantthinkwritings]

No Other Gods

Serial killer! Billy Russo x Female Reader.

Billy’s POV mostly

Summary: Billy’s on the run, moving from place to place as he leaves a trail of bodies behind. When he steps into a church to hide, he stumbles upon someone that makes him want to stay.

Warnings: Dub- con, violence, gore, blood, blood smearing, so much murder, mentions of Billy's past assault attempt, suggestion of possible sexual assault attempts toward the reader, religious themes, blasphemy, sexual acts in a church, thoughts of non-con (no actual non-con), poison, restraints, oral, fingering, sexual intercourse, wax play/heat play, Devil worship. 

If you want clarification on a possible trigger, I am happy to elaborate. 

I took the dove out back, shot it, then resurrected it so I could kill it again. Be warned.

For my lovely @ittybxttykxttytxtty who was so instrumental in the design of this fic. This goes out to you, love, who reminded me that I shouldn't be afraid to write whatever inspires me.

He’s calm. 

Each step he takes is slow, measured, he hears the echo of it on the quiet street, the drag of his shoe on the concrete sidewalk. 

He turns the corner, and has to fight the instinct to hold his breath as they turn their heads to look up at him. The murder weapon tucked into the waistband of his jeans feels ten pounds heavier.

Even breaths, one in, one out, he knows nothing, he has no sense of concern, or worry. He blinks, feels trepidation wash from his skin.

Internally, he readjusts his course, doesn’t want to walk past the group of officers that are studying him from further up the street, doesn’t want to answer questions just yet, not until he has his story straight.

From the corner of his eye, he catches sight of the church and he changes his walk ever so slightly that it looks as though he’s been heading there the entire time.

When he’s at the closest point, he raises his head and smiles, gives a little wave to the officers, wishes them a good day, though he knows what they know, and it’s not a good day for them.

The church is pristine, unlike the other buildings on the street, it stands with fresh paint and the smell of almost dried varnish and scrubbed steps that tell him that this church is probably the most coveted place in the entire town. 

Billy, having just cut a man’s throat in the High school gymnasium, steps past the door, and does not immediately combust.

Surely, that must mean he’s doing something right, that his cause is a good one, maybe even approved of in the eyes of God.

He’s not convinced.

For a moment, he thinks it’s empty, thinks he’s alone with God and his thoughts, up until the slight movement of shoulders draws his eye.

He’s in disbelief that he missed you the first time, the light of the stained glass hitting your sedentary form.

He takes some quiet steps forward, swears he feels the concealed knife grow warmer. He watches you, studies in rapt attention the way the coloured lights look on you, the way they illuminate your hair, makes his fingers ache to touch something that looks explicit in its forbiddenness.

Your dress is white, or a cream colour that tells him the outward state of your mind, the purity nurtured in your soul.

He moves faster now, eager to see you, to know what you look like, to hear your voice, to look into your eyes.

He turns when he makes it to your pew, sees the way the light caresses the planes of your face, and he wishes he could do the same.

You are radiant, undisturbed beauty, your hands clasped together beneath your chin, a small rosary wound between your fingers. He wants to touch your hair, swirl strands of it around his finger, he wants to feel your skin, hold your form beneath his palms.

Everything he wants, halts, the moment you turn your head and look up at him.

His lips part in surprise, he’s taken by you. You must be an angel, or something more.

“Hello.” You say softly, gazing up at him with unsure eyes.

“Hello sweetheart, I'm sorry to bother you.” Billy answers smoothly, as though he isn't desperate for you to get closer so that he can catch your scent.

You look like you smell like flowers, he thinks to himself, bristles with delight when you finally stand, the light streaming through the stained glass paints you with a myriad of colors.

“It's okay,” you soothe, “I don't mind helping.” You smile at him, an ease of trust in your eyes. Trust, he could so easily extinguish with the weapon concealed on him.

You extend your hand, giving him your name, he smiles, gives his back. In your eyes, he can see something he doesn’t quite recognize.

Too pure, Billy finally decides. You're too pure, there must be some wrong.

“I’m new to town,” Billy explains, leaning in so that he can stand in God’s light with you, in hopes that you can absolve him of the thing he has done.

“Got a little bit lost. Will you help me find my way?”

You smile, and it reminds him of warm fires in the winter, of standing in sunlight after being drenched from head to toe.

“Where are you going?”

.

One of the wives whispers something in your ear, Billy watches you tilt your head back laughing. You had this entire town wrapped around your finger and before he’d arrived, he’s sure no one had ever questioned your purity.

A white dress and blue cardigan, he wants to take you into one of the back rooms of the church and push his murderous hands under your dress, feel your gasp in his skin as his hands paw at your delectable thighs.

He wants to ruin the very image of you, reshape you for him, and him alone.

He turns his head slightly, observes that he’s not the only man here transfixed by you, but one in particular catches his eye.

The reverend, in the same clothes he’s just delivered Sunday sermon, gazes lustfully at you, his glasses balanced at the very tip of his nose to conceal the direction of his eyes. 

He recognises the expression, knows it like he’s looking into the face of someone who once looked at him the very same way. The reason he started killing in the first place. 

He feels the itch swell inside of himself, his fingers flex.

It seems as though it would be time to hunt again very soon.

.

“Lost again?” Someone says behind him while he’s picking out laundry detergent.

He turns, seeing you there, in a pale pink shirt, and tan pants that hide your figure from his view. 

He smiles, watches the way you light up even more. A sweet, little morsel made for his fangs.

He holds up two different boxes of detergent for you to see.

“What do you think?” He asks.

You hum, deep in thought.

“This one,” You say, pointing at the item in his right hand, “smells too flowery for my taste, and you don’t seem like a man that likes to smell like flowers.” 

He smiles, raises his eyebrows, intrigued.

“And this one,” You point to his other hand, “Oh, that’s the one I use.”

“So it must be the best.” He agrees, as if you made a proper suggestion, putting the latter into his shopping cart.

You smile up at him in amusement.

“So, how are you getting all of this back to your place?” You ask, tilting your head at the moderate amount of groceries in his cart.

He turns, looking at what you were observing.

“You’re right, I might have picked up too many things for my walk back home. I’ll have to put some things back.” He agrees with her implications.

“No way!” You protest, reaching to take his hand, tugging him with you.

“Pastor Wade brought me along with his wife, I’m sure they’ll have some extra space in the back for you.” He follows, feeling anger that Wade had found himself closer to you than before. You wave your hand excitedly at the reverend, and Billy smiles internally at the sour look he receives from the man himself.

The trunk gets filled with the reverend’s new items, and Billy smiles, looks at you as you tilt your head, trying to solve a problem of too many groceries and too many people trying to fit into one vehicle.

“Give it up,” He says, mouth angled near your ear, “I’ll find another ride-”

“Don't you dare,” You argue, “I promised you a ride home and I won’t back down now.”

He smirks, watches you pile yours, and then his items into the backseat of the car. When you’re done, there’s only just enough space for only one person to fit.

“That’s okay.” You insist, “I can sit on you, if you don’t mind?”

Of course he doesn’t mind.

“If you’re sure.” He taunts.

“It’s a great idea.” Wade’s wife echoes, too eager to have them both in the back seat and the journey started.

Billy does his best to appear aloof, he gets in, and looks up at you expectantly.

You’re hesitant at first, before looking around, and then climbing into the back seat of the car to seat yourself in his lap.

Billy takes a deep breath, exhales, watches the pores on your neck and collarbone rise when his breath touches you.

A few moments into the ride and you’re wriggling uncomfortably in his lap.

“What is it?” He asks.

“Warm.” You explain, reaching for the buttons on your pink cardigan, brushing his stomach with your hand as you tug it off your shoulders.

Billy watches, with rapt attention as you reveal a white shirt beneath your cardigan. When you almost slip off his lap, he reaches to grip your knees.

“Hold on, sweetheart.” He whispers, just so you can hear.

You hold conversation with Wade and his wife throughout the journey, talking about how excited you are for the upcoming Christmas season, and that dressing up as an angel at the annual concert is a highlight for you.

All the while, Billy keeps you seated in his lap, your ass right on his hardening cock, the smell of blossoms drifting from your hair.

He closes his eyes, tries to distract himself from thinking too much about you, but he knows it doesn’t work. When the road gets bumpy, Wade apologises for the rough ride, and you respond with something reassuring.

You stiffen after a moment, and he knows he’s been caught.

He knows you feel him when you turn your head to look at him in surprise, his cock, hot and hard below your ass, rubbing against you as the car sputters along.

He looks right back at you, meets your shocked look with a sinister one of his own, wants you to know what a man feels like, makes sure you commit him to memory.

In the rearview, he sees pastor Wade glance at the pair of you. Billy looks back, holds his eyes, gives the supposedly pious man a smirk.

.

The next Sunday, you sit beside him in church.

It completely unfocuses him from his next target, he tilts his head to look at you.

Such a curious thing, drawn to something you now know isn’t as wholesome as appeared to be. It makes him feral, makes him want to put his hand on your thigh, slide it slowly up until he’s at the apex, tuck his obscenely large fingers under the waistband of your panties, find you dripping, feel you aching, press a lone finger to your swollen clit, make your sweet little cunt gush in God’s sacred domain. 

When it’s time to take his hand in prayer, he makes sure to do it as slowly as possible, dragging his fingers along your palm, your touch makes him feel blessed.

.

It becomes a habit, sitting beside him for Sunday mass, the eroticism of your touch right before you pray, before you ask God for forgiveness from all your impure thoughts and deeds, and Billy sits besides you, blood dripping from his hands as he imagines the ways he wants to violate you in this very church.

.

It’s a Wednesday evening when he steps into the church, the most desolate time possible. He knows there’s only two people here, him, and his target.

He moves slowly, cautiously, on the balls of his feet to avoid making too much sound. The wind blows, the front doors to the church groan. 

He passes the stained glass windows where he’d first met you, he passes the pew he sits at every Sunday while thinking about you, he passes the doors at the back of the church that he thought would make a decent place to defile you.

He goes deeper, till he can hear the quiet familiar slapping of a man going at it.

He’s not shocked by it, or scandalised, he knows his wife barely touches him, he knows she has an idea of what goes on inside his head. Billy’s studied her too, looked at her while she watched the way he leaned in to speak to you, a spark of realisation in her eyes. 

He makes gentle movements, turning the doorknob with two of his fingers at a pace so slow it goes unnoticed by the person on the other side of the door.

He gazes steadily through the small gap.

Pastor Wade has your pink cardigan pressed to his face. Billy remembers the last place he saw you wear it- in the back of Wade's car. 

He has one hand to his face, and the other stroking his meagre erection. Billy waits, in the stillness, the only sounds are the preacher’s laboured breaths and the movement of his hand.

There’s a right moment to act, and Billy waits patiently, he doesn’t have to talk himself into this one as much as he’s done with some others before. This one comes easily, in part because he’s grown accustomed to the feel of blood spilling onto his hands, almost craving it now, but mostly, it’s because Wade’s next intended victim is you.

In front of him, Wade groans, tilting his head back pace quickening. Billy pushes the door open. The wooden door doesn’t groan like it did before, Billy had greased the hinges just last week in preparation for this.

Billy stands behind the man, waiting for the precise moment, and when the preacher lets another groan loose from his lips, a warning of impending release, Billy strikes.

The man comes just as his throat is cut open, blood spraying from his neck as semen spills from his cock. Warm blood pours over Billy’s hands, as he supports the man as he drops, not wanting to cause more noise than necessary.

He lies on his side, turns his head upward, mouth parting in surprise as he sees Billy’s face. 

“I wish I could punish you more, but I’m not worried, I know the Devil is going to take his sweet time with you.”

He watches the words register behind the dying man’s eyes, and Billy smiles wickedly as life leaves him.

He tugs your cardigan free from Wade’s hand, it’s partially soaked in blood and will need to be properly disposed of, he doesn’t want anyone finding it and linking you to the crime in any way. 

He studies the soft pink material, smiles at the thought of you. He brings the material up to his nose, catching the smell of blossoms just barely clinging to the fabric.

The fluttering wings of a bird above makes him glance upwards, and he figures one must have found its way into the space between the ceiling and the roof, searching for a comfortable space.

He uses your cardigan to clean his knife, before turning, and heading for a sink to wash the blood from his hands.

.

He brings a casserole to the deceased’s house the evening they discover him dead. 

It’s just a little something to help out, he explains to Wade’s widow when he greets her in the kitchen. Her eyes are bloodshot and swollen, crying from the moment she’d heard the news, no doubt.

He doesn’t stay with her too long, excusing himself despite her attempts to hold onto his hand, the women around her gazing at him, more intrigued than ever about his culinary skills.

He wants to find you, to see you. There’s an itching inside of him that won’t go away until he knows you’re here with him.

When he finally catches sight of you, something inside of him unknots itself. You’re standing in the middle of a large group of concerned people, you look like you’re fighting tears with everything you have. A woman touches your shoulder, and you raise your head to give her a brave smile.

He pauses on the outskirts, wonders how he’s ever going to get your attention.

But he doesn’t have to worry, because your eyes lock with his as soon as he stands still, as if you’d been seeking him out this entire time. He gives you a small smile, something of an icebreaker from so far away, and you take it as an invitation, running right to him with tears already spilling down your cheeks.

Your body collides with his, and for a moment, there’s only you, and the softness of your form, and the smell of your hair and he’s quietly reassuring you that everything is going to be okay.

He enjoys it, the way you grip his shirt, the way you cling to him with every ounce of strength you have. He hugs you back, finding a way to the soft loveseat in Wade’s living room. You don’t pull your head from his chest as you cry, you shake with big, heaving sobs, and he tries his best to comfort you.

If you’d only known what Wade’s intentions were with you, you wouldn’t be crying. After a while you calm, and you continue to cling to him while you sniffle, his shirt damp with your tears and he wears it like a badge of honour.

So many people stop in to check on you, more and more with each passing hour. Billy thinks more people are concerned with your wellbeing than with Wade’s actual widow.

It amuses him, that so many people are drawn to you, that you have such influence on everyone, that they care so much for you, and here you are, tucked into his body, turning your head into his chest to cry every now and again, growing less frequent with the more time that passes.

Later, he offers to take you home. He’s just been able to afford a slightly beat up car, and he asks if you’d be okay with being driven by him. You accept with sleepy eyes, and he smiles internally, going to find Wade’s wife to bid her goodbye.

He overhears one person speaking with another about the state in which the body was found, covered in his own blood and semen, throat slit from ear to ear. Billy is delighted to hear it, he wants everyone to know, he wants to shame Wade’s name, even in death.

His widow is sad to watch Billy leave, she grips at him once more, trying to wrap her arms around him the way you do. When he mentions your name, he watches her stiffen, mouth set in a grim line, something in her eyes like accusation, or knowledge of something that she cannot say to another soul. 

She doesn’t speak her accusations to him, and he leaves, wraps an arm around your wobbling form and helps guide you to his car.

You’re so tired, and you fall asleep in his car as soon as you’re buckled in. He drives slowly, takes the long way, anything to be by your side longer. Your cheeks are stained with tears, he thinks about how beautiful you’re going to look in black.

You hum sleepily, reaching across, he blinks in surprise when you take his hand in yours.

“I heard how he died. Can’t wrap my head around it. Someone just decided he shouldn’t be alive anymore. Can you believe that?”

The lord giveth, and the lord taketh away, he wants to say.

Out loud, “I’ve seen it a couple of times, back in New York.” he says instead.

You squeeze his hand.

“Do you think you could ever take a life?” 

His breaths pause, it was time to confess to you.

“I have,” He clears his throat, “I have killed people, I was in the army.”

Your head swivels to him in his peripherals, he glances back with a sad smile.

“I just thought you should know.” 

“Thanks for telling me.”

You continue to hold his hand.

“You- you’re not- you don’t hate me?” 

“It’s not in me to hate, I have to believe that the path you’re on was necessary to bring you to me.”

“To you?”

“So I can help you.” You answer, squeezing his hand.

He wants to rip you apart and reshape you with his own hands.

When he finally gets to your house, he helps you out of the car, helping you up the few stairs and supporting your weight as you get the door open. When he tries to let you walk on your own, you stumble, and he has to catch you before you fall.

“I’m really tired.” You explain to him, and he hums in understanding.

He takes you up to bed, watches you collapse onto the soft surface, knee length dress rucking up so that he catches just the quickest glimpse of your underwear.

His hands clench into fists. He wants to push your skirt up, bury his face between your legs, taste your little cunt, worship you until you come on his tongue. 

“Will you stay?” You ask, arms spread out, legs slightly bent as they press together.

He kicks his shoes off decisively.

“What will people say?” He teases.

“You don’t strike me as a man who’s ever cared about that.” You whisper softly.

He grins, climbs into bed beside you, reaches around your hip so that he can pull your body against his.

“Goodnight, angel.” He whispers as your eyelids flutter, struggling to stay conscious.

“G’night, Billy.” You respond, touching your face into his chest once more before you doze off completely.

It's too much power, and you must know it. To fall asleep so easily right beside him, every temptation to be like the predators he hunts. He could press his palm to your thigh, drag his hand up to your hips, you would never even know. He could do so much worse, pin you to the bed, pull his cock out and take you right here, watch you wake in shock while he fills you. Watch his cum leak out of your little hole. What could stop him? You? God? Everything he's wanted at the tip of fingers and all he has to do is take.

In the end, he doesn't do it. He lies beside you and thinks of all the vile things he could do and doesn't act on a single thing and he doesn't really know why.

He thinks it's because of the consequences. Doing that would mean you wouldn't want to be around him, and he needed you to want to be around him. 

By the time morning comes, and you wake, he's spent the entire night memorizing the feel of your body against his. If you feel his aching erection, you say nothing of it, and he's not sure if that's a good thing or not.

.

He finds you right after the funeral, lighting the candles that have gone out when the doors had been wide open to allow the coffin through.

“How are you feeling?” He asks, approaching you, swallows as he finally has a chance to fully appreciate your funeral attire. 

It's loose, giving you an almost formless shape, to hide from everyone's view, your skirt is just a little shorter than usual, probably something you haven't worn in a while, resting at mid thigh and no doubt giving the women something to chat about in hushed voices. 

You glance at him with a little smile, before continuing your painstaking process of relighting each candle. 

“I'm alright. The lord gives, and like natural order, the lord takes.”

He blinks.

“That's right.”

“What do you think about the Devil?” You ask suddenly, not looking up, simply tilting your head to continue your work.

“What do you mean?” He pries.

“Is he evil? Or is he just the way God made him?”

“He's both.” Billy answers.

You smile, and finally turn to look at him. 

“Do you think God loves him?” 

“Doesn't the Bible say God loves all his creations?” 

You smile wider, nodding. For once, Billy feels like he doesn't have the upper hand in a conversation. 

“Are you worried about eternal damnation?” Billy asks, taking a step closer, ready to reassure you that someone as sweet as you couldn't possibly end up in Hell. If you were damned, well that didn't bode well for him.

“I'm not afraid of Hell, I can handle fire.”

Billy watches you raise a hand, and hold it closely over one of the candles. He hisses, grabbing your wrist and pulling it away.

He turns your palm to check for any serious burns, but he'd withdrawn your hand just in time.

“I'm alright, Billy.” You reassure him, leaving your hand in his, and using the other to continue with your previous task.

It's the first time he realises that there is more to you than he'd initially thought. He'd seen you as a pristine painting before, something to be looked at, forbidden to touch, to love from afar. Now? You were an enigma, a puzzle whose pieces were made to be handled, to be solved by the right person.

Billy wanted to be that person.

.

“-He wants to be here with you, the lord is one with everything, he’s in everything you see, and everything you touch. You just have to close your eyes and let him in.” 

From around the corner, Billy listens to you speak, your hands holding the other woman’s, who’d stumbled into the church an hour ago, searching for someone to speak with. 

“I’m not worth the forgiveness.” The woman sobs.

Billy is ashamed to admit that the very sound of your voice turns him on. He feels sick, that listening to you speak about the lord makes him hard. If he closes his eyes, he swears you talk about God as if he’s just another person in the room, 

“He believes in you. You’re here, you found me, because that’s what he wanted. You found the strength to come in, to open yourself up to being judged just a little, and I know he appreciates that. He loves you, and I do too.”

Later, when the woman leaves, with a promise to be here on Sunday, Billy finds you, shuffling and reorganising reading materials near the altar.

“You’re good at this.” Billy murmurs.

You smile.

“I’m just doing what he commands.”

Jealousy stirs in Billy’s chest.

Before he can stop himself, he’s stepping into your space, you look up at him with wide eyes, as you try to back away.

“You’re so selfless, don’t you know what people say about you?”

You blink in surprise, your body lowering as you descend the stairs, away from the altar and toward the pews.

“It- why should it matter what people say?”

“They call you a temptress, you’re the reason Wade’s burning in Hell. I heard his wife say it herself.”

“That’s not my fault.” You defend.

“It’s not? You’re telling me you have no idea of the effect you have on men?”

You go down another step, he follows.

“I- I don’t- I’m not-”

He feels so large, looming over you, frightening you.

“You don’t?”

“I only want to serve.” You whisper.

“Who?” Billy taunts.

“What?”

“Who do you serve?”

“The Lord.” 

The back of your legs bump the wooden pew. Billy watches you gasp. 

“And what if I wanted you to serve me?”

He doesn’t let your confused expression last for too long.

Billy acts fast, sitting on the pew, and gripping your hips to drag you onto his lap. He guides your legs over his, spreads his thighs so that you’re forced open too.

You suck in a deep breath, head falling back onto his shoulder. You look up at him, mouth parted, eyebrows drawn together.

“What are you doing?” You ask, your body still on top of his own, he realises that you’re not fighting him like he was worried you would.

He shushes you, gently presses the tips of his fingers right above your knees, takes his time dragging them up.

You reach for his hands, covering them, unsure if you should stop him or not.

“I’m giving you what God can’t.” He simply says, looking up at the altar before them, listening for anyone walking in as he brings a veined hand up to cup your mound.

You let out a little whine, fingers gripping his wrist, unable to pry his hand away.

“This is wrong.” You whisper, tugging at his wrist.

“I’ll make you feel right in a minute.” He answers, moving slowly to push his hands into your panties.

This is what your cunt feels like, is his first thought. Billy bites down on his bottom lip, his fingers feeling over your pussy, exploring, learning, and when he finally dips his hands lower to find you wet, he can’t help chuckling to himself.

The wrongness of your situation turns you on, and Billy uses it like fuel, lights a fire so readily, eager to watch everything burn.

“This is all an act, isn’t it?” He jabs, “You pretend to be so pure but that little cunt is dripping on my fingers.” You shake your head in protest.

He’s gentle when he finally touches your clit.

You gasp, let out a strained moan, trying to fight a losing battle with your body.

He circles his fingers on your little bud, pulls your legs open wider when you try to shut them. He’s slow, he’s careful, he feels you tremble, feels your breaths get faster. 

“Don’t tell me you’re going to cum already.” He chides, “I’ve only just started.”

A soft cry is your only response.

When the sun is at the right angle, it shines through the stained glass and paints you both in multitudinous colours. He looks down at you, your face is one of mindless pleasure while the hues dance on your trembling skin.

“Look at you,” he murmurs reverently, “sinning in God’s light.”

Your eyes roll back in your head, mouth parting with the start of a loud cry, he slips his free hand over your mouth, muffling the sounds of pleasure you make.

You rock on him, cunt spilling more and more onto his fingers, his mouth begs for a taste.

Your nails dig into his wrist, he welcomes the feeling, delighted to have given you something only he could give.

When he’s sure you’re going to be quiet, he slips his hand from your mouth, and after a few moments, he pulls his hand from your panties.

His fingers go right into his mouth, eyes closing in bliss at your tart taste, he licks his fingers clean, runs his tongue over them one more time to make sure he’s gotten every drop of you.

You look at him with parted lips, caught in your own amazement, coloured light still spilling onto you.

He smiles, pulling your skirt down, closing his legs which close yours.

He pauses when he feels your fingers touch his chin, he looks at you in surprise to find something calm in them. You part your lips, like you’re about to say something, and then you startle when the doors to the church are pushed open.

You slip off his lap, rising to a stand, you smile, welcoming the people coming in.

.

Billy is waiting in the confessional booth for you to pass by. You’d been so exhausted recently, trying to help the newest preacher get settled, and then someone else had been murdered. A woman working at the bank had been stabbed repeatedly in the face inside the bank vault. Her body had been found on a pile of money. 

It was odd, Billy thought he was the only one of his kind in town, to know there was another out there, made him want to look out for you more than ever.

This, was not him looking out for you.

Rather, he was waiting to pull you away, to be your distraction from another funeral, to save you, if he so dared call it that.

He hears footsteps, identifies you from the click of your familiar shoes on the church floors.

He hears the large wooden doors at the front open to allow the coffin in, and while everyone looks in the direction of the doors, he slips out, wraps his hand around your mouth, and pulls you, struggling into the confessional.

You stop fighting when you see him, and he smiles, bolting the doors closed from the inside. 

He looms over you, cock hardening in his pants, presses a finger to his lips with a smile.

Your mouth parts, curious about him, and when he presses you back, settling your body onto the wooden bench, you don’t have much choice but to obey.

He watches you, fire in his veins. You look up at him with the sweetest eyes, and he knows he’s ready to defile you right here.

Instead, as the funeral begins, he drops to his knees in front of you, pulling your panties down your legs so that he can worship you with his tongue.

He keeps you right on edge for the entire sermon, licking you slowly, your hands in his hair, your breathing deep and low to avoid attracting attention.

He edges you, echoes the prayers being said outside into your heated core, licks at your sweet bundle of nerves, doesn’t stop for a single second.

When the congregation takes up a gospel in praise, he waits till the voices are at their highest point to let your orgasm take you.

He tastes you greedily, thankful to have ever crossed your path.

He closes his eyes, decidedly not done with you, peeling at your virtue until nothing remains.

.

He takes you home that night, helps your exhausted form like he did before, hands gripping your waist to support your fumbling steps.

“You need to stop expending all your energy like this.” He chastises, lips in your hair, breathing in your scent.

“I’m fine, I just need to sleep.” You protest.

He guides your key into your door.

“Will you stay again?” You ask hopefully.

“If you want me to. But if someone sees me leaving-”

“I know, they’ll have reason to call me a whore.”

“Don’t say that about yourself.” His voice is maybe too sharp with you.

You let out a little laugh.

“Right. Sorry.”

He gets you up the stairs, feels you take a deep breath as you yawn.

“Help me get out of this dress?”

God, you really were tempting him.

He watches you fall back onto the bed, clad in only your underwear. He finds it impossible to look away, when your body looks so divine. 

He gulps, wants to kiss every exposed inch, wants to make you see heaven any way that he can.

You watch him while he watches you, he’s transfixed by you.

“You want to touch me, don’t you?”

He curls his hands into fists.

“I always want to touch you.”

You give him a sleepy grin, arching your back, reaching behind to unclasp your bra.

“Can you bring me a dress from my closet?” You ask softly, and he stiffens to obey.

He pulls the door open, searching through the delicate things suspended from hangers for something for you to sleep in. He finds a sheer dress, smiles as he pulls it from the closet, he glances back at you to find you already asleep, your breasts exposed to the cold air.

He smiles, turns back to close the door, pauses when something shiny catches his eye.

It’s behind the wooden walls of your closet, shining through the slats. Billy’s eyebrows draw together, leaning in to press against the spot, the entire panel of wood shifts, and he realises that the closet has a false back.

He tosses your dress over his shoulder, reaching for either side of the wood, he presses down gently, and the entire thing shifts upward, allowing a space for his fingers to fit in.

He pulls, the piece of wood is heavier than expected, turns, and tucks it against one side of the closet.

What he finds… washes his mind blank of any rational thought.

It’s an altar, but it’s not for God.

There’s an inverted pentagram painted onto the wall in something that Billy, with his years of experience in the matter, knows to be dried blood. On the pentagram, there are photos pinned, polaroids of him that he’d never seen you take, taped to your wall with little hearts scribbled on. There’s other things as well, the dog tags from his bedside drawer, the pocket square he’d thought he’d misplaced after Wade’s funeral. So many little items of his, in this space, and he realises that he has no idea who you are at all.

On the floor, is the pink cardigan soaked in Wade’s blood, half burned from where he’d tossed it into a quick fire in the woods behind the church. Billy kneels, fingers brushing the handle of a knife with a blade embellished with flowers, stained with blood. The skull of a goat, surrounded by black and red candles.

He knows he should be feeling fear, but there’s no ounce of it anywhere in his body. He licks his lips, plucking a photo of himself from the wall, he feels his lips curl up involuntarily.

He stands, turns to wake you, to confront you, and halts when he finds you already behind him.

You look sleepy still, swaying on your feet, body still bare, and before he can say anything, you raise a fist, and blow a strange powder directly into his face.

It stings when it touches his eyes. He groans, drops the photo of himself he was holding, presses the heels of his palms to his eyes and stumbles. His throat tickles, he coughs, body trying to expel whatever you’ve dosed him with. He can’t see, and he reaches for where he knew you were last, only to find formless air.

He tries not to panic, if you wanted to actually hurt him, you would have by now. Perhaps you just didn’t know what his reaction was going to be and you were safeguarding yourself.

He feels the handcuff wrap around his wrist, but he fights it, his eyes sting too much for rational thought.

“I’ll help you if you cooperate.” He hears you say.

He huffs out a breath, extending his cuffed arm for your guidance.

You pull at him, bringing him to your bed, and cuffing both his arms to the frame. His eyes sting when he tries to see through them, his face burns too, like it’s on fire.

The next thing he feels is a cold cloth on his face, and then there’s instant relief. 

You place a damp rag over his eyes, and on the lower half of his face, leaving his nose exposed for him to breathe.

“Let it sit for a little, it needs to neutralise the poison.”

Poison? He thinks in shock.

He tries to calm himself, tries to tug on his restraints as little as possible. He tries to run through everything he’d learned in the past few minutes, sort them into his head, solve puzzles he didn’t even know existed.

You were entirely not who he thought you were, not even a little, not even at all.

No, not true, he’d seen it, glimpses of the real you from the very start, too pure, he’d thought, too pure that there must be something wrong.

He should have seen it from the minute you took his hand, from the minute you sat on his lap, when you felt his erection and still flocked to him. Billy should have known. It was in the way you thrived under the attention, the memory of you holding your fingers over the candles in the church. He’d seen it all, and had been unable to put the pieces together.

He hears movement, feels the bed dip as you come closer to him, feels your weight settle on his hips, straddling him.

The rags are pulled from his face, and you use the edge to wipe the remnants of something he can’t see.

“Sorry about that. I didn’t want to hurt you, but it was this or hitting you over the head with a bat.” You smile down at him, he can still see you there.

You don’t look like a new person, you only look more relaxed in his presence, his eyes drop down to find you wearing the dress he’s picked before he’d discovered your secrets.

“You don’t worship God.” He starts.

You smile.

“No I don’t.”

“But you go to church, you help other people find God.”

“You think that saves them? No one in that church is free of sin, no one is made better by being there, they’re only better at hiding it.”

He blinks, tilts his head, waits for you to continue.

You reach for a box of matches, striking one, you light the candle sitting on your bedside table.

“I go to church, because every time I step in there, I spite God.”

He watches you reach to strike another match, lighting the candle on the other side of the bed.

“My Lord, the only one I pray to, is the Devil himself.”

Billy blinks, tilts his head.

“You tempt everyone there with your innocence on purpose.” He says, thinking out loud.

You make a sound of disagreement.

“Not exactly, I’m just charismatic, and the fruits fall where they fall. My intention isn’t to tempt, it’s not my fault that men are so easily… tempted.”

He raises his eyebrows in amazement at your point.

“Look at Wade for example, I was only as nice to him as I was with everyone else, but he took it another way, I’d finally decided to kill him when he touched my thigh for too long… I was watching him from a small space in the roof when you came in.”

Billy watches, hypnotised as you drag your palm over your stomach, your ass grinding gently against his semi-erect cock.

“I watched you stand behind him, waiting for the right moment.” You whisper, hand slipping under your sheer dress, working its way down the front of your panties. Billy’s teeth clench, pulling at the handcuffs.

“I watched you cut his throat,” You groan, “There was blood everywhere.” Your head tilts back as he watches you touch yourself to the memory of his past crimes.

“You took my cardigan. I knew there was something about you before, but it was only then that I knew I had to have you.”

He watches you, fingers hidden from his view as you pleasure your little cunt. He feels rage at not having any control.

“The woman in the bank,” Billy tries to think with you so close, “That was you.”

You nod, smiling down at him. 

“She was a bad person. I wanted to give Satan someone to play with. Just like he gave me you.”

Billy’s hands are in fists, blunt nails pressed to his palm.

“Let me go.” He grits out.

You smile dreamily, shake your head.

“Not yet. I want to have you first.” 

His breath halts in his chest, desperate to ask you what you mean, but he thinks your intention is clear enough.

He pulls harder on his restraints, not wanting to be bound the first time he feels you.

“Don't fight it, Billy. Let me have you how I want, and then, maybe we'll see about those cuffs.”

He stops struggling, takes a deep breath, goes still.

You smile, undoing his belt as quickly as you can, and then tugging at the buttons of his shirt until his torso is bared to you. 

He listens to you hum with delight, feels your scorching tongue lave at his chest, over his heart, flicking at his nipple.

He begins to understand how feral you are, listening to your hums of appreciation as your tongue drifts over his neck. He realises, that you’re just a small thing, searching for someone exactly like you in a world full of people pretending.

When you open his pants, his mouth goes dry, his jaw drops open as you suck on the tip of his cock for just a small moment, enjoying the taste of him before you’re slipping your panties to the side to take him in.

Billy closes his eyes, swears, low in his throat. You feel better than he’d imagined, your walls fluttering around him, pulling his cock deeper into you so naturally that he swears it was always meant to happen.

You moan loudly, head tossed back.

“I would have let you fuck me in that church.” You confess, “I would have let you fuck me in a pool of Wade’s blood.”

Billy groans.

“I’d fuck you in the bare earth.” He grunts, supporting your conversation, “I’d make you beg me to.”

You clench tightly around him, and Billy swears he sees stars for a moment. Your breasts bounce as you roll your hips on him, and after a moment, you pause, reaching for one of those lit candles beside your bed.

Billy looks at you, keeping your steady gaze, trying to prepare himself for the possibility that you might drop hot wax onto his skin.

But you spare him, instead, you tilt the candle, letting a few drops of molten wax fall onto your thigh.

He feels you tighten, grunts in pleasure at the vigour your pace takes on.

He’s so captivated by your enjoyment of it, that he can’t help but ask.

“Do it to me.” He asks.

You smile, hovering the candle over his chest, and when the first drop hits, he gasps. It stings, burns like fire, but then something sweet fills the space, his body somehow asking for more.

You don’t give him any more though, placing the candle back in its original spot, and beginning to rock your hips in tandem.

You’re struggling to achieve orgasm in this position, and he feels amusement rise within him, knowing more about your own body than you seem to know.

It finally makes him relax, knows that no matter how hard you try, you still need him to get you off.

He waits, and waits, and finds that he can be patient when it comes to pleasuring your cunt.

You pause, pouting.

“Poor little girl,” Billy chides, “Can’t manage to come on her own. You need my help, don’t you?”

Your eyebrows are drawn together When you look down at him, trying to make sense of his words.

“N-no, I can, uh, do it myself.”

He grins sharply, relaxes.

“You’re so out of your depth.” He taunts.

“Nuh uh.” You hum, still trying to use his cock to pleasure yourself. Billy turns his head to study his restraints, the wooden pillar he's cuffed to on the headboard is wobbly, he figures one sharp pull at just the right angle would get that hand loose. The other pillar however, is too sturdy for a move like that.

He has to move fast when he does it, find a way to get you to release his other hand.

But first, a distraction.

“You're beautiful like this,” he says truthfully, “Your true self is so much more than I'd imagined and- well maybe we are right for each other.”

He watches you nod eagerly, still trying to reach your peak, your head tilts back, lulled into a false sense of security.

Billy takes his opportunity to strike.

He pulls as hard as he can on the wooden pillar of the headboard, muscles flexing almost painfully. He almost thinks he's going to fail but right at the last second, the wood gives, freeing the handcuff and allowing movement.

Your eyes fly open, and you reach for something behind you, pulling out a knife.

He catches your hand, twists your wrist so that the knife falls free, and pushes it off the bed.

Before you can scramble off of him, his hand grips your hair harshly.

“Unlock me.” He hisses into your terrified face.

Despite your obvious fear, he still feels you clench around his cock, and his desperation to have you exactly how he wants, increases.

“I'm not going to hurt you.” He clarifies, “But you're mine now, so unlock me.”

Your eyelids flutter, your eyes glancing at a spot beside him. He doesn't turn to look, simply leaning his body with yours, hand still fisted no doubt painfully in your hair.

He looks from the corner of his eye, as you tug the bedside drawer open and stick your hand in.

 “You better not be reaching for another knife. It wouldn't take much for me to squeeze the life out of you, even with one hand tied.”

He feels you clench around him again.

“You like that? That I could kill you without a second thought? Your cunt’s gripping me so tight, baby.”

You let out a little whine, withdrawing with just a metal key pressed between your fingers.

“Good girl,” Billy praises, feels even that go right to your cunt, “Now unlock me.”

You do his bound hand first, and then pull the other cuff from around his wrist. Your eyes cling to the reddening bruise on his wrist from pulling too hard.

When he's finally free, he grins, right in your face, before pulling you off his cock and flipping you over.

You gasp in surprise as your back hits the bed, Billy leans away to get a good look at you.

He can see your delectably shaped tits through the white sheer dress, he admires the way it looks- like innocence and somehow pure sin wrapped all in one. 

He thinks, for the first time, he finally sees you, finally understands what he has, looking up at him with careful eyes. 

“You said something earlier. That the Devil sent me here for you,” he leans forward, cups your breasts through the dress, stiffening your nipples, watches you writhe beautifully under him.

“But I'm not your plaything, little girl,” His fingers pinch down, pressing your nipples between his thumb and forefinger, watching you gasp in pain and pleasure, “You're mine.”

It sets off something inside of him, and like an avalanche, any semblance of self control he'd ever had, just crumbles.

He leans down, lips pressed to yours, he feels an ache inside of him lessen.

You kiss back, with forceful lips, your hands gripping the back of his head, fingers in his hair to stop him from pulling away.

His hands press against your shoulders, feeling their way over the sheer sleeves of the material, gripping your hips, fingers catching on the fabric as he touches your body for the very first time.

Your legs wrap around him, it makes him so delighted, that you want him, that he's going to use that against you.

He pulls back, grinning when you whine, reach for his mouth once more, his hand finding your throat too easily, gripping it to push you back.

“Where did my little fighter go, hmm?” He leans forward to lick your cheek, enjoying the surprised expression on your face.

“Please,” you whisper, “I need you to make me come.”

His nose brushes yours.

“Why? Don't you touch yourself all the time?” He taunts, already knowing your responses before you say them.

“I haven't been able to- since you touched me.”

He laughs, watches you get more and more demure with each moment.

“You haven't been able to come since I put my hands on you? I wonder why?”

“You feel too good.” You confess to him.

He tries to fight it but it makes him laugh again, he buries his face into your neck, amusement so heavy in his body and he has to let it out.

“Sorry, It’s just that- you haven't even seen what I can really do yet.”

“Show me.” You beg.

His hands caress you gently, he nods his head, and then, tears your dress into pieces.

You’re so turned on, aching for him, you shudder as he pulls the remnants of your dress from your skin.

His touch is frantic, his palms skate over your skin, gripping, feeling, your thighs, your legs, your arms, it makes you so much more aroused to be felt like this. No part of your body is safe from his wandering hands, it feels as though he’s trying to learn you, and you are so eager to let him.

His lips are next, kissing the top of your breast, working his way between them, the feel of his lips on your skin makes you feel more connected to him than before. He pulls your panties off in a swift rush, kissing at your knees when he finally gets them off.

“Want to know why my touch feels good? Because I know you. I know what your body likes.” Billy says, you lift your head to look at him, his hand sliding up between your thighs, the tips of his fingers making delicious sparks.

He touches your slit, tracing the seam of your cunt so gently, desperation pooling under your skin. He presses a single finger against you, until he just brushes your clit with the very tip of his finger.

“You need this little bundle here touched, kissed, and it can’t be too harsh.”

You cry out when he just softly strokes your clit. Pleasure burning through you at just the simplest move.

“You think that just because you like pain, that this has to be rough too, but no, your pretty body craves a soft touch.”

He proves it to you, his gentle fingers massage your clit, he makes it look effortless, eyes drawn to your centre, looking up at you with dark eyes every now and then.

It’s the burn of his slow movements that make you lose your mind. The worst part is that he’s right, you’ve never touched yourself so gently before.

“Does that feel good, baby? I’ve killed so many people with these same hands. But I bet that makes your little cunt even wetter.”

You mewl, nodding, remembering the way you’d seen Billy kill. The amount of blood he’d left behind, such a messy crime scene.

You bite down on your bottom lip, back arching, hands gripping your sheets.

Just a little bit more, you think, gasping, quietly urging him on, hoping that he doesn’t stop his movements.

“That’s it,” Billy praises, “Just like that, show me exactly who owns you.”

Your breath stutters in your chest, your vision goes white as pure euphoria overtakes you. It comes in waves, cunt fluttering around nothing, your body shudders as your brain tries to process pleasure beyond your comprehension.

It takes you a moment before you can breathe through it, and like before, it feels like you’re floating, somewhere deep in your subconscious.

His face comes into your line of sight, a proud smile on His lips, beautiful in every way as He hovers above you.

You suck in another breath, it helps you feel your body, and the remnants of your still occurring orgasm.

“The first time I saw you, I couldn’t look away. I thought you were the most beautiful thing I’d ever laid eyes on. I wanted you all to myself. Now that I have you here, now that I see you, I want you forever.”

You nod eagerly, smiling up at him, gripping his hand to press your cheek into his palm. You wanted that, you wanted to be His as well.

“Now be a good girl and stay still.” He whispers, lowering his body once more, burying his face between your thighs for the second time in your life.

You almost want to scream. His tongue pushes its way to your clit, flicking softly, dipping down to lick at your entrance.

You hear Him moan between your thighs, you shudder, arching your hips into his face.

He slaps your thigh, a warning that he intends to uphold the discipline of His instruction, you simply clench in response.

You wanted- so much more than you could admit.

You'd thought, for a brief moment, that he was the personification of Lucifer himself, that Billy was a reward for your years of devotion, but somewhere in the back of your head, you were starting to feel something different, new, that not even your devotion to Satan himself could match.

He licks you like he's starving for it, hands on your thighs, tongue in your cunt you want to struggle just so He has a reason to hold you down.

You say His name, you feel your thighs tremble, His lips kiss at your swollen clit.

You don't know what you're feeling, something in your chest, that tugs everytime he touches you.

Drunk on His mouth, you hiss when his pace increases, unsure if you'll even be able to have another orgasm so close to the last.

He's careful, dexterous, precise, he licks cunt the way he kills- with careless precision, a spectacle to be admired, spoken about in hushed tones. 

Billy doesn't ask, he simply manipulates your body until you're wound so tightly on edge once again, unable to comprehend how you got here in the first place.

You groan, your grip on sanity crumbles away, all you can think about is Him, and the way his beard feels, scratching between your thighs, and the darkness of his hair and the grip of his fingers on you, holding you to him, daring you to struggle. 

There’s a loud rushing in your head when your next peak finds you, your back bowing off the bed once more, something pinches in protest but you can’t focus on it, the pleasure too important to give up just because you’re a little uncomfortable. 

He licks at the arousal spilling from you, moans into your body with each taste, making you see stars, or fireworks or maybe even just flashes of bright lights and colours. 

It somehow reminds you of the stained glass of the church, makes you feel adjacent to something that’s on the tip of your tongue but you can’t find the right words for it.

He draws back, beard wet with your slick arousal. It’s gorgeous, and you watch him tug his black shirt off- that he’d worn to the funeral of the woman you’d killed- and use it to dab at his chin.

Your eyes roam down his body, it’s the first time you’ve ever seen a man as sculpted as he is, lean and muscular, small bits of hair on his chest and a spot right below his navel that your tongue aches for.

You sit up, looking at him, pressing your thighs together as he pushes his pants all the way down his legs, his cock already solid and leaking for you.

You remember the first time you felt Him, the way you knew without a doubt that you were going to have him, before you even fully understood what he was.

He reaches for you, grips your thighs and pulls you to the edge of the bed. You gasp at his easy display of strength, watching as he strokes himself for a few moments before lining his cock up with your dripping entrance.

Your past orgasms have made you more sensitive, each inch of him he presses in makes you bite down on your bottom lip, trying to breathe through the overwhelming pleasure and the stretch associated.

“You're so tight.” He utters with a strained voice.

You can only moan, reach to touch Him, the light of the candles flickering on his bare skin in the dead of night.

Your fingers graze a circular scar on his lower abdomen, and at the same time, he thrusts the rest of his cock fully into you.

You cry out, the sudden bliss of being stretched, goes right into your head, you gasp, your body begs for more, begs to be undone by him.

You swear you can taste blood in your mouth from biting down on your bottom lip too much, unable to vocalise your appreciation of him, he draws his cock out, before making another harsh thrust.

Your back arches, you don’t feel like you’re in your body, or maybe you feel too much in your body, the only thing you know for sure is the pleasure that fills you, that threatens to swell under your skin and explode outward.

He keeps his motions swift, harsh, deep, following through with each shift of his hips fully before beginning another.

“Who’s your God? Tell me.”

“L-Lucifer.” You utter automatically, but it’s the wrong thing to say. He stops, hands gripping your jaw tightly, bringing all your focus to him.

“What was that?” He grits out.

“Lucifer?” You whisper, voice light with pleasure.

He shakes his head, leaning away and reaching for something nearby.

You tighten around him when you spot the burning candle in his hand.

“Say that again.” 

“Um…” You stutter, unsure of what to say.

You gasp in surprise when the first drop of hot wax hits your hip. It stings, just for a moment, before leaving the sweetest tingle in its place.

“Please.” You moan, pressing your hips upward for more of his torment.

“Can Satan do that?” He asks, rutting his cock into you at a slow shallow pace. When you don’t respond, you feel another heated droplet sting the skin of your hip.

You peek at him through parted eyelids, watching the way he looks at you in amusement, before tilting the candle again, this time to allow hot wax to fall onto the opposite side.

“Billy.” You moan, and you watch him grin.

“Answer my question, little dove.”

You shake your head.

“N-no. Satan can’t make me feel like this.” You whisper.

He moves, drips wax onto your thigh, making you gasp in pain, feeling it heighten your euphoria.

“Do you like feeling this way?” He asks, and before he can finish his sentence, you’re nodding, raising your hand to your chest to roll your nipples between your fingers for his appreciation.

“I like it, Billy, I love it.”

“Then tell me who your God is.” 

You think you finally understand what he's trying to say, his cock pressed deep inside of you. He's the reason you feel so good, he's been the person occupying most of your thoughts from the day you met. He's someone you'd be willing to kill for.

“You.” You finally answer, and he smiles, moves his hand, still holding the candle, wax dripping onto his fingers, he tilts the candle and lets a few heated droplets touch the skin over your womb.

You gasp, the skin there is a little more sensitive, the burn is more intense, more pain than pleasure but He doesn’t seem to care, simply continues to smile as he blows the candle out, putting it back on your nightstand.

There's still another candle on the other side, allowing you to see, though everything is just a little dimmer now.

Your skin tingles, warm, the dried wax on your skin cracks as you move, but you don't get a chance to focus on it too much, because as soon as Billy lets go of the candle, he's pressing into you with renewed vigour.

Your thighs tremble, tears pool in your eyes, He's rough, grunting with each stroke he makes, earning a reciprocated cry when his cock bottoms out inside of you each time.

Skin against skin, sweat glistens on his chest, you want to taste him.

“Say it again.” He commands, leaning over you to brush his lips to your ear, “Who do you worship?”

“You, Billy.” You respond eagerly, gripping his shoulders, pressing your nails in, listening to him hiss in response, gripping your jaw to bring you into a bruising kiss.

It's messy, his tongue dipping forcefully into your mouth like he owns you, his cock doing the same, taking everything as if it's owed.

You bite down on his bottom lip, hears him grunt out a manic laugh in response.

“You're all fucking mine.” He grits, leaning back and pulling your boneless body up until you're on top of him, his hands gripping your hips to keep you moving on his cock. You tuck your head into his neck, unable to be anything more than a receptacle, to take Him, over and over until he's finished with you.

“How does it feel to be saved by your new God?” He grunts between thrusts.

You can barely find the words to speak.

His hand slaps the flesh of your ass hard, demanding a response.

Cruel, you think, that He wants you to speak, that He thinks you're even capable of thought.

“Feels good.” You hum, fingers gripping his neck, nose to his jaw, taking what he gives, you tears dripping onto his collarbone.

He groans into your ear, it’s the best thing you’ve ever heard and you finally begin to understand true devotion.

“Please,” You beg, “Please.”

He grunts out a chuckle between thrusts.

“You don’t have to beg, I’m here, I’m not leaving.”

You tilt your head up, vision hazy, your body tingling with something too intense to be just bliss.

He kisses you softly one more time before dropping you back onto the bed, pushing your knees upward so that they’re almost to your ears.

He feels so much deeper this time, fucking you hard, merciless thrusts that has your cunt fluttering again, warning you that you’re on the right path to an orgasm.

He doesn’t stop, looking right into your eyes as he pushes his cock into you, over and over and over. You see stars, you see him, you see nothing else.

He licks his thumb, lips wet with saliva, he slips it between your bodies, angles it right against your clit, swipes gently from left to right.

You make a loud sound, followed by a flurry of pitiful whines, trying to warn him, to implore him. He doesn’t stop fucking you.

Your toes curl, one small breath of air before the most intense rush of ecstasy takes root in your body. You’re lost in the rapture, taken by the experience to even register the sounds you make.

You feel fire, you feel sparks, tingles that rush all over your skin, your inner walls gripping him so tightly as you’re forced to experience bliss at His hands.

He groans loudly, and before you know it he’s fucking into you rougher than before only for a moment before he makes a sharp sound of relief, cock pulsing as he spills himself into you.

You clench around him, making sure he gives you every drop of himself. Knowing that this is the right way to show your devotion.

There’s a moment of insecurity, when he crashes to the bed beside you, eyes closed, his breathing is quick, as if he’s just run for miles. You worry that once he’s had his fill of you, that he won’t be interested any more.

Your head is turned to look at him, lungs still heaving, the bliss of your orgasm hasn’t left you completely yet, and you watch him, curious to observe what he does next.

He peeks an eye open, mouth pulling into a smile that bares his teeth, he pushes himself up, crawls closer till he’s in the space between your body and arm, kissing at your cheek and shoulders softly.

It opens something inside of you, to feel that, to know without a doubt that He meant every word He said.

You raise your hand in wonder, fingers gently brushing His cheek, before pressing your palm to His face. 

He looks down at you, moves his own hand to run the backs of his fingers against your face, two people, finally seeing each other, finally showing themselves, unafraid.

It’s more than you could have ever hoped for.

.

Billy stands in the shadows, waiting.

He watches his targets leave the bar, two men, laughing with each other as they head to the nearby bus stop.

He follows, observing the way they move, trying to figure out just exactly how drunk they are. One wears a leather jacket, with his hair slicked back, the other wears a plain white t-shirt, and jeans.

They talk loudly, confessing to things Billy already knows about.

When one of them looks up, and sharply elbows the other, nodding to a place ahead, Billy knows what they see.

You lean against the bus stop, face buried in your phone, too occupied with it to notice that you’ve been spotted.

You’re beautiful, Billy muses, white dress, denim jacket, a little purse hanging from your elbow, standing under a small streetlight. It’s like he’s seeing you for the first time all over again. 

The man in the leather jacket gets to you first, looking over your shoulder, peering into your phone looking at what you’re doing for a moment before saying something to you.

He watches you startle, look up at both men as they approach.

It’s like a dance, the way your fright gives them confidence, the manner in which you step back, warning them that you’re going to run before you actually do.

He smiles as you slip from their reaching grip, running into the nearest alley, he watches them take chase.

He moves faster, making sure there’s no chance of putting you in any real danger.

When he gets there, they’ve got you cornered, your back against a wall with them closing in. They’re too focused on you to ever notice him.

He takes a breath, waits for a moment, enjoys the thrill of what he’s about to feel.

When one of the men reaches to put his grimy hands on you, Billy strikes.

The man in the leather jacket makes a gurgling sound as his throat is cut wide open, splashing mostly on himself, but some of it gets on your dress and he knows he’ll get on his knees later to apologise for getting your dress messy, even though he knows you like it.

The other man can only make a single sound of terror before he’s falling to the floor, mouth agape as the handle of a knife protrudes from his eye.

He’s still alive, though not for long as Billy watches you drop to one knee, pulling the knife from his skull to plunge it into his vocal cords next. 

You look up at him, with bright eyes, excited to be doing this with him. He bites down on his bottom lip, thinks you look adorable when you’re seeking his approval.

He doesn’t care if the men are in their last moments, he reaches for you, grips the collar of your jacket and hauls you up, manoeuvring you until your back is pressed against the wall of the alley.

He drops his head, angles to place a fierce kiss on your lips, smearing blood on your face when he grips your jaw.

Billy pulls away, breathless, heart hammering with the thrill of murder, he looks into your eyes, and finds himself looking back.

He’s not surprised- simply acknowledging to himself that it’s what he’s been seeing the entire time, what he couldn’t put a name to when you first met, he now knows.

.

“And the lord said ‘Thou shalt have no other gods before me.’” 

It makes you look up, to meet Billy’s eyes.

You watch the corner of His mouth twitch in amusement.

.

#billy russo #billy russo x reader #billy russo x female reader #the punisher #my writings #billy russo smut #dark!billy russo #serial killer!Billy Russo #dead dove do not eat #dead dove fic #just overall bad #everyone is evil #there is not a redeemable character in sight #Forget 'I can fix him' #reader just said 'watch me make him worse'

[pupcuck]

RIGOR MORTIS !

ft. og4 leon s. kennedy x fem!reader

tags. las plagas!reader, he kills you, technically snuff ig but wasn’t intended oops, gore, canon-typical violence, reader is infected and out of it so she can’t really consent, dub-con, non-con, p in v, choking/asphyxiation, strangulation

note. god im plagued by writers block and it’s killing me it’s like walking on shattered glass rn. umm please ignore any mistakes, not very fond on this but haven’t posted in a bit :3 um it’s quite short. rbs are always appreciated :3 instead of asking for a part 2 please just tell me something nice.. feedback is really appreciated <3 comms are open! info in my pinned :3

Leon seeks refuge in what looks to have once been a humble abode. Now only a shack wearing a shroud of all things dead and rotten remains. Foetid water has soaked him to the bone, it seeps into the thick leather of his combat boots, leaves his socks soggy. He really hates that. Leon can handle cerebrospinal fluid leaving a sticky film on the toe of his boots, the blood caked beneath his fingernails is something he considers normal, but wet socks are a total inconvenience, it’s a shortcut to trench foot.

The hollow skulls of small critters occupy the corners, the cobwebs have cobwebs, the air is stagnant and stinking. Not of rot, but of sickness. A gaping wound crawling with infection, bacteria settling in the crevices of his mind, squirming like fat, juicy maggots—

Crack!

It’s a man, he was a man, now he’s a boneless lump of flesh, his spinal cord snapped under the weight of Leon’s boot. His yellowed teeth glisten under the golden warmth of a single lantern. Leon’s defence is choreographed at this point, a swift kick to intercept an impending strike, then his boot makes mincemeat of their brains.

When he takes a step back to review his current affair, it’s not so bad, certainly not Raccoon City. Leon would take a million murderous Spanish grandparents over a single zombie. Zombies are plain nasty, not a single limb intact, oozing pustules that peel back to reveal purpling flesh infested by larvae. They’re fuckin’ ugly. Slow and bloated and ugly. A sight no human being should see.

On the wall, there’s a shattered, grimy mirror. Leon sees the ghost of a boy staring back at him. Unwashed hair hanging limp, cheekbones carved out, his skin alabaster like the blocky lettering stitched into his uniform. R.P.D. it reads, muddied by blood and guts and chunks of vomit. All the good shit. He hasn’t grown into his body yet, the steel of his gun is cool on his temple and he’s young and these are all important things to know. In his arms is something small and lightweight, a bloodied little girl, leading him to a pyrrhic victory.

The floorboards groan under the weight of a pair of feet that don’t belong to him, the threat isn’t imminent. You don’t charge at him, no, it’s shambling he can only describe as zombie-like, dragging your bare feet like it hurts to lift them off the ground. Like you’re waterlogged and ready to pop.

You were pretty, he’s sure, a real looker. You’re pretty now, just not in your entirety. Strings of reddish muscle keep the fatty flesh of your right tit hanging on for dear life. Like an Amazonian woman. There’s no rot, no sign of decay, simply an act of self-mutilation.

Now, some might call him a pervert, but Leon’s a self-proclaimed iconoclast. And you, swaying from side to side in your torn linen nightdress, the skeletal pendant of Los Iluminados around your neck like a disfigured cross, draped in a veil of white that’s close enough to holy - it’s worth ruining. Santa Maria di Plagas or whatever.

He realises a few shattered bones have you walking funny, circles you easily and heads into the room you exited. The bed sheets are rumpled in unrest, he sits, there’s a hairline fracture between the two of you. The lantern light bares all, the white of your dress becomes gossamer-thin, he makes out your shape beneath the blood-soaked cloth that moulds to the shape of your torso, the smooth dip of your waist, a soft sinkage where the fabric clings to your belly button.

Leon has seen far worse. Can you blame a guy for getting hard at the sight of a real girl? In his line of work, he’s neck deep in pounds of flesh that spew pus and gore from each virus-clogged abscess. The layer of dirt on your skin does not deter him, that tit hanging by a tissuey thread, swinging back and forth like your necklace is child’s play to him. ‘Cause Leon’s a real man. The princely type.

(He’s anything but. One girl’s knight in shining armour is a monster under the bed for another. It’s not like you can complain, you’re quite the monster yourself.)

Hang in there Ashley. He’ll be there soon, but he’s got to do this. This is completely and utterly necessary. Hunnigan doesn’t need to know why he’ll be unreachable for a good thirty minutes or so. Less probably. ‘Cause your body is hot, clammy with fever, and that means your pussy is even hotter.

Something… Something… Plagas… Something… Lord Saddler…

Your mumbling is constant. Leon will have to do something about that. You gnash your teeth at him when you approach, held back only by the sluggishness that comes with, like, brainwashing cultish parasites.

“Sorry, sweetheart, no entiendo.” Leon loops a worn piece of rope around your neck. Ain’t that handy? Found it hung on your assumed-to-be father’s tool belt. Used for leading curly little lambs to the sacrificial altar. He strokes the underside of your chin, and you bare your teeth like a wild dog, albeit slowly. A late reaction. No fair, it’s like someone’s knocked you around already, who got here before him?

Getting his dick out at a time like this in a place like this, it’s not smart. Sneaky bugs could use his urethra as a water slide. A menacing minibeast might latch onto his balls pincher-first. However, needs are needs, and nothing gets in the way of Leon’s dick, not even a kidnapped First Daughter could stop the force of nature that is his boner.

With ease, he pushes you onto the ground. Not the bed. If you behave like an animal then he’ll have to fuck you like one. Plus, Leon’s not quite sure he trusts those sheets, at least the rusty nails on the floorboards are visible to the naked eye. Tetanus won’t be a nasty surprise, just a momentary lapse in judgement.

Your body contorts when he pulls the rope, back taking on a feline shape, spine bending inwards and your hips up. Puppetry is easier than it looks. The hem of your dress lifts to reveal your leaking chasm of a pussy. Better than nothing. Not like he’s eating it either way.

One hand on the rope, the other on his belt buckle, he lowers his jeans enough to pop his dick out. “Stay still, honey.” He instructs, but it’s like talking to a brick wall, or to a person who doesn’t understand a lick of English.

Leon chokes you with the rope. “I’ll only be a minute, sweetheart,” he coos, a tender kiss that he regrets merely seconds later placed on your shoulder.

He grips the base of his cock, the fat tip is red and leaky, precum bubbling like your foaming mouth. Leon’s too hard. His dick is totally upright, the soft curve pointing towards the ceiling, a thumb comes to press down on the tip, using it to guide himself into your pussy.

“Oh, there you go, honey, yeah, there you go.” His hold on the rope loosens, still firm enough to keep you in place, but now at least there’s oxygen flowing to your parasite-addled brain. “You feel that?”

Leon’s dick stretches you to the point of no return. He’s broken you in. Better off him than any of those grotesque old men. You’re a virgin surely, so it’s very considerate of him to fuck you before you die. No one should die a virgin, that’s cruel, it’s inhumane.

You thrash wildly, grunting each time his hips smack into the fat of your ass, he can’t tell if you’re enjoying it— You better be fuckin’ enjoying it. Know how risky this shit is? Fuck, what if you had a mutated cunt or something. Jagged teeth waiting to clamp down on a big fat dick and tear it straight off. He really needs to start thinking with his brain and not his cock. The thing just doesn’t shut up.

When he cums, the rope is tight around the column of your neck— It would be your hair, but he fears it might fall straight from your scalp in nasty, matted clamps. Your body rears like a wild Mustang, he gathers the rope and it wraps around his fingers until your back is flush to his chest and you grasp for something, anything— Eyes rolled so far back he can see the milky whites, and then he gives one last tug to make sure you’re stuck in that state. Mid-orgasm. Eyes in the back of your skull, back arched, pussy dripping with his load. Cute. He wishes rigor mortis set in right now so that you don’t fall slack into a heap of red and white when he lets go.

Leon leaves by barrelling out of a window like a true gentleman, the microscopic shards splinter your skin. He takes that pendant with him, tucks it in his back pocket, could be useful at some point in time.

It’s only when the blood in his veins runs black and viscous does Leon notice something is severely wrong. His blood flow slows to a halt, clots forming in every important artery. Mucousy black sludge leaks from his nose. An intense pain cuts through his senses with deadly precision, a surge of discomfort that has him kneeling over, hands on his knees in a clumsy attempt to steady himself.

His hands clasp around Ada’s neck— The rope. He pulls it tighter and tighter to get closer and closer. Her voice is distorted by the fog that clouds his brain, it creates a hazy barrier, mutes the world around him. A knife lodges in the meaty flesh of his thigh, he topples backwards when her knee makes contact with his groin.

“That bitch gave me crabs.”

“What?”

“Nothing.” He brushes her off. “I said, uh, Lord Saddler almighty.” Leon’s heard that enough times to repeat it back to her rather fluently. Nice save.

“Right,” Ada says, unconvinced.

#leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy imagine #leon s kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy x you #leon s kennedy smut #leon kennedy smut #resident evil x you #resident evil x reader #resident evil smut #dead dove do not eat #dead dove fic

[theminecraftbee]

hermit horror week day 4: season 7 or taken over

Xisuma slowly blinks at the console logs for the server again. He's very tired; he's been collecting blackstone again, and it's very tiring, collecting blackstone. He's been building a lot of pretty houses, and stocking a lot of shops, and he hasn't had time to look at the console much recently. He probably shouldn't be now, because he's tired, and tired people make mistakes.

He makes a lot of mistakes; he's silly like that. A big derp. It's why he has to be careful, since he's been tired so much lately. He definitely shouldn't have the console open.

It's just, earlier Impulse had a question, since his moss farm kept lagging, and Xisuma thought it would be easy enough to try to find the root cause of. And he did find the root cause of it--Impulse's farm is too fast and his storage simply doesn't keep up with the amount of moss--but there's... some other things...

He blinks again at the dates on the server files. The last edited dates. Slowly, he clicks again on his own player data, and tries to make sense of what he's reading. Files like this, they aren't really meant to be that human-readable. It's--well, it is mostly json, so it's mostly human-readable, actually, but a lot of it is still encrypted, for player safety, which would. Maybe explain what he's looking at? He thinks? He's--well, he does have root access, is the thing, because he's the admin, but he still shouldn't be able to look at any player willy-nilly.

He's a little too much of a derp to be trusted with that. He probably shouldn't even be looking at his data! It's just. That last edited date. Xisuma doesn't edit his own player data. That way lies madness. He's, uh, pretty sure he knows some people who went a little mad doing that. So the fact of the matter is--well, it's not the only file that's been edited recently, he tells himself. Just because it's a lot of memory files that seem to have been edited, as well as access permissions--that's... normal enough for a new season, right?

He's...

He doesn't notice his other self walk up behind him.

"Oh, hey Xisuma. You finished gathering materials for our next build, then?" Evil Xisuma says. All of Xisuma's hairs stand on end.

"I mean, I've gathered enough to get started," Xisuma says.

"Pity. I was really hoping you'd manage to get everything. I thought maybe we'd finish today, but I guess we can't now."

"I--you're right. I'm really sorry."

"No, no, don't worry, don't worry, my friend," Evil Xisuma says. "We probably couldn't have finished today anyway, even if you said you'd try for it."

Xisuma's heart is in his throat. "Sorry, my head's just been. You know how I am. Silly me, forgetting things."

Evil Xisuma shakes his head. "It's awfully lucky I came back this season. Think of all the important things you'd be forgetting without reminders!"

Xisuma looks down and away.

"Gosh, and now you're... playing around in the admin console?"

"Oh!" Xisuma says. "It's, er, nothing really big..."

"Can I see it?"

He barely resists the urge to close out of his player data and hide that's what he'd been looking at. He doesn't know why he wants to hide it. It's not like--well, if Evil Xisuma got mad about it, it would be... right, wouldn't it? Because, well, Xisuma knows full well he shouldn't be looking at or editing his own player data. Editing your own data is the way to madness, and Xisuma, well, he's been so tired lately. He could easily accidentally hit a button. He could easily accidentally hit delete. He has root access, after all.

His heart is in his throat again. He shuffles his feet. "Sure," he says, finally. "I, er, I promise, I wasn't doing anything. I just noticed the last edited date on, uh, files that aren't automatically created by the system? And I thought, gosh, that's weird. I'd only been in there to check on Impulse, really, after he'd had some lag issues. I was just finishing up. It's nothing--the date's weird, though, right? That's all I was noticing."

He watches Evil Xisuma's fingers scroll through all of Xisuma's data. It's not quite fast enough that Xisuma isn't sure he's reading it, and suddenly, Xisuma feels very small.

Finally, Evil Xisuma hands Xisuma's tablet with the admin console open back to him. Xisuma looks down, and Evil Xisuma has closed out of the player data again.

"You just forgot the last maintenance date," Evil Xisuma says.

"Really?" Xisuma says.

"Oh, yeah, for sure. You're so tired lately. You silly derp. You've just been forgetting things easily. You should really get more rest!"

"Oh, but then we won't finish our projects," Xisuma says.

"I guess we wouldn't," Evil Xisuma says back.

"It's just--it's. Most of the time, access permission for player memories isn't edited during maintenance, and I just--I don't remember putting your name down?"

"Why wouldn't you?"

Xisuma tries to think.

"I don't know," he says finally, small, unable to meaningfully articulate anything about what's wrong with it. "I guess it only makes sense, if I'm forgetting things so easily."

"Exactly! Gosh, we make a good team," Evil Xisuma says, and he smiles at Xisuma. Xisuma crookedly smiles back.

"Yeah, we do," Xisuma agrees.

"Don't pull that out again unless I say so, okay?"

"Okay," Xisuma agrees automatically, and then he knows he will not. It makes sense. If he was upsetting himself over nothing like this, why, imagine what he'd do if he could open it whenever? He'd just constantly be upsetting himself!

"Now, my friend, let's return to building the Evil Empire."

"Let's!" agrees Xisuma, and just like that, the entire encounter slips from his mind.

#hermithorrorweek2023 #a bee fic #hermitcraft #xisuma #evil xisuma #emotional abuse #mind manipulation #(like genuine warning for emotional abuse here albeit like. somewhat subtle manipulation type.) #if this fic is late in my time zone. no it isn't. #anyway. i will never stop thinking about. whatever was going on between xisuma and evil xisuma in season 8. #anyway. ANYWAY. god one day i'll write the Very Dead Serious Take on that plotline. maybe this is one piece of it. #anyway the horror here is only barely the implied possession it's more the implied. emotional abuse. #GOD i will not stop thinking about the implications of that storyline whether intended or not #like. i'm forever like. did he INTEND to imply the abuse that so many of those cutscenes imply #or was he just trying to write evil xisuma acting like a villain? #anyway this isn't how i'd write evil x for any season that isn't season eight specifically btw you can blame it on jeff if needed

[rhimestonetalks]

White Raven

Warnings: Dark content, spit kink, creepy behavior, non-con, cumming like everywhere, overall shitty Leon, mentions of stalking, he's rough with it, mentions of previous non-con, mentions of kidnapping (only at the end), breaking n entering, borderline somnophilia, abuse

A/N: I've shared this idea with someone b4 but now i'm going into FULL description bc yummm icky Leon

For the past two weeks, you've been waking up every morning with drool leaking from the corners of your mouth. You assumed you just had a habit to drool a lot in your sleep so you started leaving tissues on your bedside table so you can wipe that drool away when you wake up. It became a recurring thing that you just got used to. You saw nothing wrong with how much drool there was when you woke up, it seemed normal to you. It became normal to you. Unfortunately, it was anything but normal. The truth was much more sickening that you could possibly imagine, more sickening than anyone could imagine, and you were about to find out that truth in the worst way possible. At 3:00AM, the time typically associated with demons. They aren't far off on their assumptions honestly.

You barely awoke to the sound of your bedroom door creaking open. You were only half awake, your eyes still closed but your ears listening to the sounds in the room. Think of it as a defense mechanism, a safety protocol your body had set in place. Not like it would ever help you. It was only when whatever was in here started walking towards you did your eyes open just a little. All you could see in the darkness was a figure slowly starting to creep onto your bed.

You closed your eyes again, assuming it was just some sleep paralysis demon your brain conjured up to scare you. You've experienced this once or twice before and you knew you could ignore it to make it leave so of course you'd close your eyes and silently prayed it would leave. It didn't go away though. It wasn't going to go away. Not yet, not now, and probably ever. It's hand gripped your jaw and forced your mouth open. Why could you feel it? They've never touched you before and you really didn't expect it to be this realistic. In fact, it was unnerving. Your heart rate picked up and you tried not to breathe. You were sure it would disappear if you displayed no reaction.

but it didn't. It didn't go away. and now you were terrified. In a panic, you opened your eyes only to see a man. This wasn't sleep paralysis. Someone had broke into your house and was now on top of you. Out of nowhere, he spat into your mouth which he held open with his rough hand and suddenly everything clicked. You haven't been uncontrollably drooling for the past two weeks. This man had been entering your house and spitting over and over into your mouth.

Now your brain was in fight or flight mode. You weren't just going to sit back and let him do this because what the fuck? You were quick to try push him off but, unfortunately for you, this guy had a quick reaction time and he was incredibly strong. You didn't even have time to react by the time he had your arms pinned down with just one hand. You kept trying to struggle free, not wanting to see what happens next.

"Stop fucking struggling, it'll hurt more," he says with anger evident in his tone. You recognized that voice. Where did you recognize it from? Who knows. Who cares, frankly, he's clearly a sicko. "Get off of me!" you yell out and all you get in response is punched and fuck it stung. It dazed you for a few short seconds and all you could feel was blood slowly falling from your nose.

The daze didn't last long because you snapped back to reality when he started pulling your pants down. Oh fuck no. You started struggling again and, in response, he wrapped his hand around your throat, choking you. It wasn't long before both his and your pants were off and you knew that meant only one thing.

"It's your fault for struggling, if you had just sat there and taken it like a good girl we wouldn't be here," he says but you're too dazed to process what he's saying, you're just trying to breathe. He wasn't gentle at all. He had no respect, no moral, no fucks to give. He had been through hell and he believed he deserved all the gifts in the world, including you.

He thrusted in without any prep and, god, it hurt like hell. He was rough, and cruel, and he only cared about his own pleasure. His hips were ramming against yours and you were incredibly overwhelmed. Maybe you should've listened to him, maybe you should've just sat there and taken it. At least then he wouldn't do this and you could've just moved countries the next day. Oh god, now you were being manipulated into blaming yourself. You couldn't help it, not when all you could feel was him fucking you with no remorse while choking you to the brink of passing out. Could this count as torture? It should.

"I'm gonna make a fucking mess of you," he spoke through grunts while keeping his fast pace. You were sure you were about to cum but that was short lived when he pulled out and stroked his cock a few times before cumming all over you. Fucking.. gross. "I hope you didn't think you'd get to cum, you've been nothing but a bitch to me," he spoke again while looking down at you. Maybe he was a sleep paralysis demon, he certainly was a monster.

He spat again, right on your face and even had the audacity to use his hand and rub it around. You felt disgusted, humiliated, and worthless but, at least it was over, right? Wrong, his hand around your neck suddenly tightened and you started seeing black dots in your vision.

"I'm gonna keep you locked away with me so I can use that tight little pussy everyday," he said and the last thing on your mind was how absolutely fucked you were before you felt him thrust right back in.

Link to my profile :3

#leon kennedy #resident evil #smut #leon kennedy smut #leon s kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy x you #leon x reader #leon kennedy imagine #leon kennedy fanfic #resident evil smut #leon s kennedy #re6 leon #re6 smut #dead dove #nasty fic #rhimestone talks

[alienguts]

Spectacular (Ash Williams x f!Reader)

Summary: Y/N needs glasses and wants Ash to help her pick some out.

Warnings: fluff, friendly teasing

Request?: No

A/N: This one goes out to my glasses wearing babes out there. I am not one which is a shame because I look good in glasses. Also, I know that it takes much longer for prescription lenses to come in but this is a magical fictional opticians where they have things instantly.

Ash had spent fifteen minutes twiddling his thumbs in the optometrist waiting room, watching the rerun game show on the world’s smallest television set. He’d told Y/N multiple times that she didn’t need him to accompany her to her eye test, but she’d insisted so much that he eventually caved. He didn’t know anything about eyes except what it felt like to stand on one, and that was something he wished he didn’t know.

Eventually, Y/N came out of the exam room, the eye doctor in tow and a piece of paper in her hand. He looked up as he heard them come in and saw how her lips were pursed into a hard line.

“What’s going on?” he asked, looking between Y/N and the doctor.

“I need glasses,” she said. 

Is that it? Ash thought as he wrapped an arm around her shoulder, ignoring the doctor.

“Hey, it’s not the end of the world, honey,” he soothed. “I bet you’ll look cute in glasses.”

“I’m not worried about that, Ash,” Y/N said as she shrugged his arm off of her. “It’s how much they’re gonna cost. I don’t exactly have all the money in the world.”

“Oh. Well, we’ll figure something out.”

The doctor cleared his throat briefly, drawing their attention back to him.

“If you’ll both follow me, we’ll try some frames out.”

Ash had expected to spend another fifteen minutes twiddling his thumbs while Y/N tried on glasses, but it turned out that he was quite keen to help her find a good frame.

“What about these?” he asked as he held up a thin framed pair with perfectly round lenses. Y/N immediately scrunched her nose at them.

“Nah, I’d look like John Lennon in those,” she said but still took them from him. She placed the glasses on her face and took one look in the mirror before turning back to Ash. 

“See?” she said. “They’re too Lennon for me.”

“I dunno, I think you look cute in them,” Ash said. 

Y/N immediately turned back to the wall of frames, embarrassed by him complimenting her in a public place. She picked up a pair with square lenses and settled them on her face before turning back to Ash.

“How about these?” 

“Now those are cute,” he said as he took her face in his hands and angled her chin around, as if he was trying to get a good look at her from all angles.

“I like these too,” Y/N said as she tried to suppress a laugh. 

“You look like a cute librarian,” Ash said and let go of her face before kissing her gently. He felt how her face immediately heated up against his and smiled against her lips before drawing away again.

“Okay,” Y/N said, trying to not look so flustered. “These are a definite yes, I just need a spare pair.”

“You mean we gotta keep looking?” Ash whined. “Can’t you just get two of the same?”

“I could, but I want a different pair too,” she said and turned back to the wall to look at the frames again.

Ash let his eyes wander over the display and immediately pulled a random pair off the wall.

“How about these?” he asked and placed them onto his own face.

“Ugh, no,” Y/N bristled. “I’d look like a serial killer in those.”

“I guess they are a little creepy when they’re not sunglasses,” Ash said and put the frames back. “Hey, I’m gonna leave you to it, I gotta use the bathroom.”

“Oh, okay,” Y/N said. “I’ll probably be here a while so don’t rush yourself.”

Ash took his time, as Y/N had said to, coming back to the store just as she was paying. Her back was to him as she took a bag from the assistant, presumably with her new glasses inside. He took quiet steps as he crept up behind her and wrapped his arms around her shoulders. She jumped slightly when she noticed him but rested a hand on her wrist as she finished her conversation and thanked the assistant.

“Ready to go?” he asked as she turned round to face him.

He was surprised to see Y/N already wearing her new glasses: a pair with black frames and mid-sized lenses that sat perfectly on her face. They were better than any pair he would have picked for her and just made her cuter.

“Hey, you made a good choice,” he said and gently took hold of her chin to turn her face to different angles. “You suit them.”

“You think so?” Y/N said, her face warming. “I was worried you wouldn’t like them for a second.”

“You kidding?” Ash said as they left the store together. “Nah, you look cute in them.”

Y/N smiled and reached up on her tiptoes to gently kiss him. “Thank you, honey.”

 “You’re welcome, poindexter.”

“Why did I have a feeling you would end up teasing me?” Y/N said with a laugh.

“You just know me so well, baby,” Ash crooned. “I could say other things to you. How about if I said you look like a sexy librarian?”

“I’ll think about that one, just don’t tease too much or you’ll get it.”

"Can't wait," he said and took her hand in his to lead her to the parking lot.

#ash williams x reader #ash williams x you #ash williams imagine #ash williams fluff #evil dead x reader #evil dead x you #evil dead imagine #evil dead fic #fluff #female reader #*my writing

[admirxation]

The Perpetual Chase | Chapter Three

other parts: part one | part two

Pairing: las plagas!leon s. kennedy x afab reader and chris redfield x afab!reader Disclaimer: This fiction will contain dark content, including topics of abuse and non-con narratives under the DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT category. I do not condone everything I write; this is fiction where real people cannot get hurt, and depiction doesn't always mean endorsement. Please read the warnings before you proceed. You have been warned, and you are responsible for what you choose to consume. CW: the reader has female anatomy and uses she/her pronouns. trauma, suggestive kissing, petting, handjob, neck kisses, mild neck biting, memory of somnophilia, memory of kidnapping, and angst. Word Count: 5.2k

~ Chapter Three: Lies and Closure ~

A warm drink was nestled in your hands as you stared at it blankly. You felt your hands warm up but made no effort to move them, keeping your fingers around the ceramic outer layer. You maintained an exhausted and unfocused stare as you deeply sighed, watching how the liquid rippled to the edge of the mug. You were left alone with your thoughts after Mason went to his classes, and Jill checked up before returning to work; all you could think about now was what happened last night.

Last night was supposed to be a source of comfort for you. When Chris shared a bed with you, it was a moment of vulnerability to share a space with him, but your mind came alive with the constant swirling of thoughts. Thoughts that insisted on keeping you up throughout the night, and your darkened eyes and heavy eyelids reflected this.

You often thought about Leon; it was only natural, but you never spoke to anybody about the extent to which you thought of him. You were aware that people would guess that you had him in your mind regarding your situation; it would be quite ignorant to suggest he never pried into the occasional thought in your psyche. Nevertheless, last night was out of the ordinary. While you listened to Chris' heavy breaths as he slept and the shuffling of the sheets when he moved, you just stayed on your back and looked up at the ceiling, continuously thinking about that blocked-off area.

That was the section you had never stepped foot in. When you entered, you knew that this was where you would live and that you wouldn't be able to return to normality in your apartment; honestly, you didn't want to go back there anyways; it was now tainted in your memory. You were told by a group of people, as Jill held your hand, that you would be held in a locked-off facility, not being able to go outside without much-needed permission, and that your son would have to believe this was all reality until perhaps he came to a certain age — this was all to protect the both of you. At the time, you had no words; you were just numb and, in all honesty, terrified of the notion of locked-off life. Over the years, you had gotten used to it, but you still craved normality before that night Leon snuck into your room and took it all away from you.

But that secret area was much more intriguing last night than the other nights; you had the time to think to yourself and fully process everything over the years. You thought about that moment, remembering when your little one was in an excitable mood and running around, causing you to chase him and continue a playful game as you giggled. However, playtime had to end when some guards told you and him that you two were going too far. You were taken out of that sweet moment as a mother and had to hold his hand and tell him not to run around that area again; that day, you did have some curiosity but never thought about it with the same intensity as you did last night.

When you asked, Jill and Chris told you there was classified information in that area; this was the first excuse you fought against. You argued that you were also held in as top-secret classified information, so what was in there was already probably known to you, considering what you were told about the mission Leon was sent on, his real job and the intricacies of his disease. Then, the excuses changed to other classified information when Jill mentioned that there was information on what she had encountered. You had already known what happened when she was in Raccoon City after she saved you, later learning Leon was there too; you were even told about the persistent monstrous creature that continued to stalk her — but she told you that there was more that you couldn't know. You were forced to leave it there; you wanted answers, you didn't have any obligatory right to learn everything.

It was all too much to bear; you had only learnt when you were rescued that Jill and Chris were a part of S.T.A.R.S and an idea of what they encountered; you had only thought that Leon was just some normal handsome man next door — oh how reality is a tricky thing you discovered. So, you decided to leave the exhaustive cycle of getting the truth alone. You felt in your gut that there was more in that secret area, but you had no proof to claim lies. For the remaining years — before curiosity piqued your interest in the current moment — you just went with whatever was told to you and lived your life with friends, as a mother, and now with a partner. You wanted to fill that puzzle of Leon's story, but it seemed that piece would never appear.

There's no point, you thought, as reality continued to hit you like a ton of bricks. You thought, even strongly believed, that the area was the ticket to your sought-out questions, but what was the point? It wasn't like you could just walk up and ask for the door to open for you; no, there were rules and regulations, and you were forced to respect that, no matter how much you wanted to barge through and demand answers. After all, you had no empirical evidence to suggest a lie; it was just a gut feeling that wouldn't stand up in an argument. Your mind debated with itself, and you had to keep telling yourself that he was dead; you saw... No, not just that, you felt yourself pull the trigger and heard his body hit the ground and...

Your eyes started to water, the red heat appearing on your cheeks as you used your sleeves to remove them quickly, taking deep breaths so it wouldn't escalate to real and uncontrollable sobbing — you had to compose yourself. You shut those thoughts out, momentarily, as you returned to your warm drink that was getting a little colder the more you secluded yourself in thought.

You felt defeated, feeling a knot in your stomach and mind, just wanting to scream. You wished you could forget it all, god what you would give to be granted a memory sweep, but now you had to continue your life with the one you wanted, L-Chris... You wanted to live your life with Chris, you told yourself.

"I need some air," you whispered to yourself at the lonely table, gulping what was left of your drink and feeling that slight warmth pass down your throat with a slight burning sensation.

You passed everybody walking the halls on your way outside, a piece of field you could walk through and get some fresh air; you had to fake smiles and partake in general small talk, ranging from hello's and how are you's while you were rushing to get outside. You didn't want to be stopped, no matter how friendly people were being. You held yourself as you crossed your arms, tugging at the fabric on your arms as the cold breeze hit you. It was summer; the previous day had a gentle warmth and ray of shine, but now it was colder and miserable with a grey cloudy cast over the sky. You were just happy that it wasn't raining, so you could walk as much as you wanted to, but as you continued, your feet made their way to a place you shouldn't be.

You meandered close to the crossing point, but not close enough to be shouted at; people were watching, and you didn't make yourself any favours as you stood there with your arms folded in a still position, getting lost in thought — once again.

What secrets do you keep? Your internal monologue asked as you narrowed your eyes, your vision being above the staring guards and looking at the small, concrete block; you wondered what the layout would be like inside; you knew it had to be larger inside, and you thought about if there would be an underground section, pondering on how much or even how little it kept inside.

One of the guards continued to watch as the others murmured to one another, varying between "she isn't past the section we shouldn't do anything" to "what the hell is she doing?" But one guard, who kept his watch, picked up their communication device to contact Jill and Chris.

"Redfield... Valentine... Redfield... Valentine... She's near the premises; how should we act on this?"

They were in the middle of a conversation; they were discussing the next steps to integrate Mason into the real world when he reached a certain age and wanted to make a pathway in place before discussing it with you. However, this conversation was interrupted when muffled and static sounds were coming from the sides of their pocket, causing them to both jump out of their seats and rush to the nearest window to try and locate you after hearing your location, only to find through the window that you were just standing there, but they could only see a speck of your standing figure with how far they were from you.

"We can see her... What is she doing?" Jill tried to get closer to the glass and focus on your movements, "Keep us updated, and do not let her go near." Her voice raised by a smidge as she hurriedly tried to get the words out, trepidation spiking through her body. Chris shared the same anxiety as he continued to watch you.

"What...What is she doing?" Chris whispered to himself, but enough for Jill to hear.

"She j-just standing at the border, from the seems of it," she quickly replied to him.

"Miss Valentine, she keeps... staring? She isn't coming closer, but this might get dangerous; we await your course of action," time was ticking for a decision to be made.

"Fuck, um," she took deep and quick breaths while she thought, "Just... Just... Don't do anything, if she moves closer just escort her away -" she was cut off.

"And don't you dare hurt her," Chris spat out as he cut her off.

They returned their devices to their pockets when the guard agreed to the orders but could only continue to keep thinking about what to do about this situation.

"I'm going to her," Jill made a haste decision.

"No. Don't. What's that going to achieve?" he rubbed the back of his neck while contemplating, "she's just going to keep wondering about this, and... I don't blame her, she needs closure and -"

"She doesn't need to see Leon. Do you have any idea what will happen if those two see one another?" she calmed herself down with a slow and deep breath before speaking again. "It'll be too much for her... I don't want her to be hurt again; what happened to her was... horrifying. She doesn't need to see him."

"Just let me take her in there," Jill opened her mouth to speak until Chris stopped her as he continued with his speech, "And before you reject the idea, just trust me that I will make the right decisions... I know she's your friend but now she's my partner, you don't always get the ending decision."

Jill only released a heavy and deep sigh, waving her hand to let him go. Her hands began to shake as she accepted the idea, praying that nothing would happen to you and that he wouldn't let you see Leon.

Chris walked out of the room, making his way to where you were standing; he had it all in his mind and felt the dampness on his palms as he approached your location, talking quietly on his device about the plan he had, being greeted with acceptance and understanding from the guards and researchers to play their part.

Chris wanted to be patient with you; that was what he was trying his absolute best to do, but he didn't want to continue Jill's way of keeping the area forbidden; he wanted you to stop, no, he wanted you to have certain answers for closure and to move on, he thought giving you some half-truths would help with that. After all, you knew Leon's real job, the objective with the president's daughter, what happened in Spain, and even information on what he and Jill went through, so it would be easy to fabricate something for a sense of closure.

He could have a better vision of you now — no longer that small glimpse of a spec in the distance — and now see your body language; he could tell how scared you were with your stiff demeanour.

You continued to hold the fabric on your arms, your nails digging into the cloth, straightening your lips as you stared at the building, taking a deep breath before picking up one of your feet, finding an urge to cross that point.

"Hey, what are you doing here," but you were stopped by Chris. You remained still, only for a moment, before turning around and meeting his facial expression.

"I..." at first, you didn't know what to say as you looked into his eyes, you didn't think you were able to put all your emotions into words, but you continued: "I can't do this anymore! It's killing me not knowing what's in there, and I just know that information on L-Leon is right fucking there... I find it cruel that the existence of this building is waved around in my face, and I can't even see. I know you won't let me go, but I-" You were on the brink of tears before he cut you off.

"Let's go in then."

You didn't know how to even react to this; the term shock was underestimating the plethora of complex emotions you were feeling, being left to just wander and pace through thoughts of being ecstatic that you could finally silence that curious part of your mind, to then wondering if this was all a trick. You were in disbelief and kept wondering why now. Chris could pick up on this, and you just kept a blank expression, but your eyes were full of emotion; he slowly took your hand and walked you closer, walking along the crossing point.

It was surreal as you walked closer to the building, replaying the times you were shouted at and telling Mason he shouldn't go in. You didn't say anything as you heard the soft grass being pushed down under your feet, the strong wind swishing through your hair, clinging onto Chris' hand as he reciprocated with a gentle squeeze as he pulled a strange-looking, what seemed an ID card, that granted entrance. You could only pause momentarily before Chris whispered that it was all okay and that he was there for you.

You just couldn't believe you were now standing at the threshold you had been curious about. You were met with a dimly lit corridor stretched out before you before hearing many muffled voices and shuffling shoes making contact with the hard ground, the sound of typing and writing, the metallic sound of needles and the glassy vibration of bottles clinging. As you passed the rooms, you saw multiple people, what looked like scientists with their eye gear and white coats, taking samples, looking at microscopes and filled whiteboards and pinboards of graphs and pictures of... Well, you couldn't quite make it all out, you saw a creature that resembled a spider with spindly legs, and an orange crystal?

Chris led you to the heavy metal door that creaked open as he presed his card through a slot and pressed on a screen for a fingerprint; it felt like being in a movie with all these procedures.

You felt that need for closure tingle within you as the sound of the door opening occurred.

The room was illuminated with a harsh white light, casting long shadows on the walls. You hesitated for a moment before you walked in, squinting your eyes as you grew accustomed to the drastic difference of the brilliant white light, feeling a chill run down your spine as it felt like the temperature immediately dropped as you continued to get closer and hearing the metal door close behind you. The people in there looked up at you for a moment; they knew of you but never met you; they only met Leon. They felt compassion as they looked at how shaken up you were but tried their best not to maintain stares or make you feel any more uncomfortable as they tried to give you space — the air was thick with tension and mystery.

However, emotions soon washed over you as you looked up at the computer screens on the back wall: picture of an old village, thick black liquid that made you feel uncomfortable, and a team holding up a sign with an Umbrella logo; there were other people on the board as well, a blond white man, an woman who was wearing red in the picture, you couldn't explain any of this. But as your eyes continued to dart on the wall, you saw a face you hadn't seen in a while.

Leon.

Only this time, it wasn't that haunting image of his darkened veins and shadowed look; it was the real Leon you knew as your former neighbour, even another picture of him where he looked younger and in a police uniform. You never knew he was a police officer. It felt like your breath was caught in your throat as you locked eyes with the pixelated projection of his former self. Tears slowly forming and causing your body to shake; you couldn't help but feel frozen in place.

"Hey, hey," Chris whispered before reaching his arm around you, "It's okay... We can leave whenever you want; I'm here for you."

"I-I'm sorry, it's just... It's all too much," you said in between your sobs, using your sleeves to wipe away the tears and leaving a darkened wet patch on them, "C-can you explain this... All of this?"

Chris took a deep breath before speaking: "Well, we decided to research the disease he was carrying... We collected all this information that a woman called Ingrid Hunnigan sent to us. If you look along the board... This man, is Luis Serra Navarro," you looked at his picture and found it ironic how they were all smiling about making some awful disease. "He is the strongest lead to make a cure."

"A cure?"

"We found out there was some... amber, this person," he pointed at the other people, "wanted to get their hands on, which has the parasite. We don't know much more than that since the people did not occupy Leon's mission, only Miss Graham's life. Knowing there is a preservation of the disease well... I'm sure you can connect the dots to why we want to make a cure."

"Is... Leon's body here?" you question caused everyone to pause for a singular moment before they acted like a hivemind and continued to work normally; you didn't pick up on his behaviour as you looked into Chris' eyes until he gave you an answer, you felt your heart racing and goosebumps forming.

"Yes."

The sterile, white-lit room then buzzed with tension as you just stood there, your hands trembling at your sides, your eyes fixating on Chris. All you could do was stand there in disbelief and felt... betrayed. Your heart was pounding in your chest, and rage was coursing through your veins like wildfire.

"H-how could you keep this from me?" you said in a hushed tone, but managing to show your rage with your slow expression, your words slicing through the air of tension like a knife. You tried to contain your tears as you watched Chris' guilty gaze, and you felt the feeling of betrayal etched into your heart: "Where is he? I want to speak with him... Take me to him... Now."

"You can't speak with him."

"Excuse me?"

"Let me explain," Chris could feel the disapproving looks of the researchers walking beside and behind him as he fabricated the lie on the spot, "He is here, but dead. We only brought him here to extract some needed samples before we got rid of him -"

"Got rid of him! He's a human being, not just trash!" you knew Leon damaged your way of thought, but you felt sympathy for him, considering his actions were controlled by a parasite. To you, he was equally a victim; you came to that conclusion years ago. "He deserved... I don't know... I-"

Chris came closer to wrap his arms around you, but you just froze and didn't reciprocate. You couldn't understand any of it, not giving enough time to process, and continued to just want to scream and run away until the ends of the earth—it was just too much.

"I'm sorry, okay, we just didn't want you to see this again... Please know that our intentions weren't to hurt you," those words made you melt, causing you to wrap your arms around him as you knew he cared about you.

In a matter of moments you held onto Chris before deciding to leave, you had seen enough and your curiosity was fulfilled, but before you left you wanted to ask one more ting: "Is there any more rooms that I should see.?"

"There's nothing more my dear... I promise," you felt safe as Chris put his arm around your waist and walked you out.

The surrounding researchers shook their heads to themselves, disapproving of all the lies and the false sense of safety they were given.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

"Where is he? I want to speak with him...Take me to him...Now."

That voice. That voice was familiar to Leon. His eyes opened slightly, only seeing a blurred vision of white light as he lay still; he knew that voice belonged to you, the girl he regretted hurting, not fault of his own, but it still crept on his conscience. How he longed to speak to you after hearing your beautiful voice. He could tell you were upset, and it just brought him back to that time in that dreaded house where it all happened, a singular tear rolling down his cheek as he continued to slowly try and open his eyes; he wasn't able to move, not being able to speak as the researchers surrounding the room continued to keep Chris' secret as they injected him with a substance to make him sleep, not able to make a sound as you were walking past the next room. Leon had no strength, and all he could think of was you. Only being able to have one thought before passing out to sleep again.

Forgive me, I love you.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

It was much later now, and you were waiting for Chris to come back to your room; he had left you alone for a few hours after you had entered the, once, forbidden zone, and you were finally left with an almost clear mind, as you were still living with a intermingling of complex feelings within you.

Jill wanted to give you space and take care of your little one, giving you time to tuck him into bed and then take him off your hands. You were sitting in the comfiest and largest shirt you had and shorts, just sitting on your bed, picking at your fingers before wincing in pain as you just looked up to the ceiling and tried to make sense of it all. You felt relieved but also numb and empty.

The door creaked open as you finished another deep sigh; seeing Chris, you felt relieved to see him, thankful for the comfort he provided you.

“You okay, dear?” he took his jacket off, “I know today has been a lot for you so if you want me to go I-”

“No,please,” your hurriedly rushed out the words, “I want you here, please, I need you here.” 

Chris continued to take his jacket off, his jeans off and changing his shirt, leaving him only in his shirt and boxers as he climbed onto the bed with you; you instinctively lifted your head up to make room for his arm to slither underneath it, and you turned to the side and nuzzled yourself into his chest, feeling warm and safe with the comfort of his body and natural smell. 

He placed a soft kiss on your forehead before speaking: “How are you? I know today has been a lot for you, you can talk to me if you want.” 

You reached your hands around him to hug him even tighter: “It’s been… Too much to be honest, I’m glad I have the answers but I still feel… Hurt? With how long it took to get them.” 

“I know, darling, and I’m sorry… I’m not asking for forgiveness but -”

“You don’t have to since I already forgive you,” Chris was little taken aback as you faced him, “You just wanted to protect me. I was mad at you but, you had good intentions, and now you have told me everything.”

He trailed his fingers through your hair, tucking a strand behind your ear, “You know everything, my dear,” later placing the side of his hand on your face, pulling you in for a soft and tender kiss.

You leaned into it, enjoying the sensation of his warm lips interlock with yours, disappointed when it ended.

“Chris.”

“Yes.”

“Can we kiss a bit longer, please?”

“Of course my dear,” he pressed his fingers inbetween the strands of your hair as he pulled you closer and continued that soft and tender kiss.

You were both lying down on your sides, as the kiss was deepening, feeling a jolt of excitement as you felt Chris’ hand grab your leg under your thigh and lift it on his side, making you automatically interlock your leg around his waist and pull his lower body towards yours.

While you were enjoying it Chris slowly separated from you: “We can stop if you want, I won’t make you do anything you’re not ready for.”

“I want to do this,” that was enough for Chris to pull you in to continue the kiss, his spare hand around your waist, grinding his hips into yours as your lower half's bond together.

You felt Chris hardening under his boxers, and you could feel yourself get wetter, rubbing yourself into him as he continued to grind along your core. You felt Chris subtly slip his tongue into your mouth, making the kiss wetter and deeper as you roamed your hand along his large and muscular arms, until you decided to move your soft hand under his shirt, feeling his hard core until moving down, Chris getting harder as he felt your fingertips pry behind the band of his underwear, feeling him twitch as he felt your fingers move deeper and surround his hard cock.

“Fuck,” Chris let out a muttered curse.

You felt the blurting of precum drip from the tip, rubbing it down along his length and listening to his low moans, making your core tingle as you heard and felt his deepened breathing patterns, his chest rising up and down in unrhythmic patterns.

“God, you’re so good,” he continued to groan, his hand harshly squeezing the plush of your ass, making you release a soft and sensual moan.

It felt so good to enjoy these moments, continuing to pump his cock with your hand surrounding his large member, moving from his mouth to his neck and laying kisses and small bites that made him shiver; you were so turned on.

He took an opportunity to push his fingers in your wet panties, but… You couldn’t. You froze.

“A-Are you okay? Did I do something wrong, I just thought that-” he was so nervous. 

“No, you didn’t do anything wrong,” you slowly moved away, “I was really enjoying it, I was but… I don’t think I’m ready… I’m sorry,” the last words were released in a melodic softness, feeling guilty for leading him on. 

“Don’t feel that way, please… I don’t want you to do anything you don’t want to, it goes at your pace,” your bodies moved to the previous cuddling position as he held you and kept you safe. “I will admit that I was enjoying it… But I can’t enjoy anything if you’re not ready, don’t force yourself,” he kissed you on top of the forehead, ending the night with your bodies interlocking, feeling safe in his warmth and comfort.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

The only company Leon had in the sterile room, was the company of the rhythmic hum of the ventilation system; he knew people were watching him, but when someone wasn’t directly talking to him, he was alone, with the air that felt heavy with isolation with his world now reduced to the confines of the dreaded walls he woken up to. 

Researchers, occasionally, turned their screen on and spoke to him like a normal human being, but the only human contact he had was when a group of individuals came into his room and injected him; all he could remember was waking up to a white light and that voice he longed to hear. He had no strength to keep shouting or clawing at the walls like he used to do, slowly building an acceptance to everything. 

He just resumed with his solitary routine, tossing a rubber ball against the wall and catching it with practiced precision, the rhythmic thud echoing in the room that made a sort of metronome to measure the passing hours. He felt it futile to even try anything, just glad that he had a suppressant until a cure was made. He did long to break free, but these desires were met with anxiety to what would happen next, he knew they wouldn’t let him live his life again; he longed the life before Spain, wanting to reclaim his autonomy. He thought about what he regretted in life, the opportunities he didn’t take… Like asking you on a date; he hated himself for missing the opportunity to build a romance with you, he hated himself for what his body put your through. 

His conscious was deep down, but he was aware of everything that damned parasite made him do, he remembered the pleasure it had when it first fucked you in your sleep; he could feel his teeth grinding together, turning into aggressive biting of the lower lip as he threw the ball with more force, remembering how it waited for you to sleep before taking you away, and how you slowly fell inlove with him. That was all he ever wanted, but not the way it happened. He was all numb to it now, no more crying to echo through the walls, just a inner sorrow he felt on the daily now. 

You were gone, lost to him, and all he could do now was live life like a laboratory mouse in a box, not being able to think of anything but you. 

taglist: @pastel-skies-and-doves @itzkawaiix @cassiecasluciluce@argreion (just comment or message if you wanna be on the taglist, you can always pull out if my writing turns out to not be your liking).

a/n: I hope you liked this update and that all engagement is appreciated. I just wanted to talk about a few things; firstly, I am taking a while to update this. I hope you understand, but I am busy. Also, I don't want to rush this; in the prequel series, I rushed it, and you could see it with the quality lowering in the later chapters; I like this story and want to continue in a way I am proud of the writing and don't think it's awful. I also wanted to state that as much as I appreciate the people excited for this series, it is stressful when I get loads in my inbox asking when it's coming out; I'm not a fanfic-making machine and will need to take time between chapters. Once again, thank you and have a lovely day/evening. don't forget to check my pinned post if you want to see my master list and other fics, mwah mwah mwah.

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