#bc i think it makes the punishment more significant

[jesse-pinko]

My personal headcanon for Lavinia (Avox Girl) is that the boy who died in the woods w her was her older brother, who was very protective of her, and that maybe they were on the run from the capitol bc she was the one who did something to piss them off and he was the one who risked everything to help her escape, and so he essentially died in the process of trying to protect her. So when she sees Katniss volunteer to die in place of her sister, what choice does she have but to forgive her? Even if she doesn’t want to; even though she doesn’t want to. She can’t help but forgive her.

[sillygoosealert]

Daisy, hi! How did you come up with the user sillygoodealert? Bc that concubine fic had such a silly ending 🥲🙂 lmao jk but seriously I was thinking what if before the maid concubine reader offs herself, we see her side of being treated like shit by the other girls and staff and sukuna himself during the day and then trying to not be shell shocked when he treats her so sweetly in his chambers. especially when he continuously humiliates her and one day eve punishes her extra harshly in front of everyone after she makes a mistake and then he still expects her to pretend as if it didn’t even happen when he wishes to spend time with her that same night.

Who knows just thinking further about the story you created, ty for sharing your work it’s so delish 🤤

In the morning - Just a week later

That's my legal name because i am the mayor of silly town

I had a BAD day so ANGST NO COMFORT NO COMFORT 😠😠

Dub-con(so there is a little bit of smut 😲) he's kinda abusive?? uhhh mention of blood

If someone asked Sukuna if he was ever satisfied with everything he had, the answer would be no. But once, he got very close to it.

To be satisfied is to settle, and Sukuna never settled. Not for anything or anyone. However, one night, while you laid next to him, it almost felt like he would be okay with living like that.

Knowing he could have more than what he had at the time stopped him from deeming it satisfactory.

So he strived for more. A more significant and fulfilling feeling, more.

What waited for him in the morning was a clean room and a cold bed. Although you were supposed to be beside him as of now, there was a cold, neatly made spot in replacement.

After 8 minutes of stretching, 2 minutes of sitting and silence, and deciding what kimono he would like to adorn today- he came out of his enclosure.

Standing just a few feet from his door, you were unhurriedly dusting off the chandeliers scattered across the ceiling- on a ladder, without anyone supporting it from the bottom.

After a few quick strides, he kicks the ladder from its place. There isn't a real reason why he did it. It was more impulsive than anything. But as he watches your body hit the floor, blood dribble out of your nose, a feeling of superiority overcomes him.

Even though he was the one to do this to you, he still helps you up and carries you to bed in his arms. Your blood is smearing across his arms and hands as he wipes away tears that come out as you shake and beg for him to stop. It's no longer a quiet morning, but he got what he wanted- a warmer bed and a more obedient woman.

Nothing good comes out of upsetting Sukuna- or sometimes just being around him. He doesn't have to be in a bad mood to take things out on you. The bruises on your body should be enough evidence of that. Sometimes, you question if it's enough to feel pity on you, though.

There will always be someone to ask what you did. Occasionally, that someone is you. Late at night, curled up listening to him treating another woman with something similar to adoration.

His voice isn't necessarily loud, but it's the only thing you can hear when it is well past curfew.

He coos encouragement and praise while gentle skin-on-skin can be heard if you listen for it.

At the moment, you're jealous. That should be you. When that is you, though, you dread walking into his enclosure.

The day after you watched him toss away any love or respect he had, for 15 minutes of sugar-coated sex, something changed with him.

He held your waist as he guided you to the edge of his bed, an eager grin plastered on his face. Lifting you and laying you on the one-too-many pillows he suddenly had.

One hand found yours as something wet licked your pussy. It was slimy and unwanted, and you kept quiet because you were in complete shock.

You saw how clean the sheets were when you walked in. You hoped it was a sick coincidence. But the feeling of Déjà vu sank deep into your body, as well as his tongue did. And as you checked to make sure- the pillows were fluffed up. The smell of a specific woody soap was stuck to him, and he was gripping your hand a little harder each time your breath started to increase.

"My Lord-" You wanted to ask him to stop, but the words couldn't come out as fluently as your tears would.

When you started to sob, he pulled away and looked at you with disarray. All you could do was shake your head and wrap your arms around yourself.

He sent you back to your own room without a word.

The other concubines must have noticed the shift in your status- or maybe he complained to them about you. That is one of life's great mysteries.

They treat you noticeably differently than they did before- for the worse. A thought that crosses through your mind is they were scared to be anything less than indifferent to you before, for they would most definitely receive a punishment. But now? The treatment of your counterparts and the King of Curses is almost equal- with him being the only one to break your trust, as the other concubines made it clear they were not your friends from the start.

As of now, they weren't afraid to push you aside in the hallways or scold you for nearly slipping on the freshly mopped floor.

Your new nickname is Lummox- which means a clumsy, stupid person. That's not too far off from what you are, so you don't take too much offense.

But people now use it to call out to you and grab your attention it becomes all you can use to describe yourself when you think about what you did to get here.

Even now, as you curl into yourself late in the night, what keeps you up is what will now wait for you in the morning.

I have such a massive hatetrid for my own writting it's almost astonishing I put anything out. I can't re-read anything I put out because I get so upset that I can not put into words how I feel- the one thing people expect of me.

Tag List- @mangiswig @rubyrubyruuu @maskedpacific @bbysnw @belluuu @cindywasneverhere @uniquenicefangirl @m0rganit3 @jinniebby2 @babyblexu @connierk690 @suguru-nugget @geniejunn @astro-stars @honeybee54321

[dieinct]

what does "found family means found incest" mean? of course I understand if you don't want to open that can of worms just curious

oh i don't care about opening a can of worms or anything because i am simply correct about this. i genuinely don't know how i could have been clearer - it literally means exactly what i said, that found family facilitates the same abuses natal family does - but i will take a stab at explaining in more depth.

"the [implicitly nuclear] family" is a social technology that we made up to protect property rights. therefore, it is a structural force which historically depends on the absolute subjugation of the child (and also the wife) to the authority of the patriarch/"man of the house". it creates powerful, naturalized, and therefore unquestioned and unquestionable tiers of authority and power, which is how you get abuse. putting non-familial dynamics or "found families" into the strict dynamics OF the nuclear family, you are also creating tiers of authority and subjugation - notably, ones which are rendered invisible by the presumed "natural" nature of familial authority.

think here of lolita, where hh's abuse is very much facilitated by his status as (step)father. the power of a father over his child is not questioned the way a total stranger's actions might be.

similarly, looking at the claudia-louis-lestat dynamic, that's a "found family" which originated with the "wife" begging his "husband" to allegorically rape their "daughter" in order to make her part of their family, and which in part collapses because that dynamic is both emotionally safe AND emotionally corrosive: louis and claudia are, actually, "siblings" - both turned/allegorically raped by lestat - but louis cannot admit to this or treat claudia as equal, because that would force him to confront his own violation by lestat AS a violation. additionally, it would force him to confront his complicity in her turning: committed by an equal, his actions would be unforgivable, whereas as a parent, he can continue to feel he had some right to act as he did - BECAUSE parents have unquestioned authority over the bodies and lives of their children.

tl;dr: creating a family dynamic also creates a hierarchical structure of authority, discipline, and punishment, which are all conditions rife for exploitation and abuse.

obligatory disclaimer bc this is tumblr: not every single family dynamic or found family dynamic is bad. but my point is that the structure of the family is one which allows bad actors - whether intentionally predatory or simply continuing patterns of behavior they were raised with - real, significant access to victims AND built-in excuses for their behavior!

[lorebite]

HERO OF THE DAY | L.K

↳ ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: being an anti-B.O.W agent has never been easy; and you more than anyone else know how lonely it can get in this line of living. However, what you didn't expect was to have your heart stirred when you set eyes upon one Leon Kennedy - the newest recruit. ↳ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. fem reader. cursing. 2 part smut; voyeurism, implied masturbation, handjob, switchy vibes. some sweet gentle love making, Leon cumming too quickly bc he's too fucking sensitive (i swear, i couldn't resist it 😩), age gap relationship (younger man x older woman), reader is Leon's CO, pet names used for reader: Lieutenant, miss, sweetheart, honey. very subtly implied depression, PTSD and sducidal ideations, rookie!Leon. ANGST (beware. i mean it) but also some sweet, sweet fluff. reader is a smoker. mutual pining (kinda?). idiots in love (or lust?). reader shows questionable behaviors at times. title is taken from a Metallica song by the same name. this fic is a prequel to my return to ashes fic but it can totally be read as a standalone as well. in this universe, Sherry Birkin and Jack Krauser don't exist cos i think it makes better sense for this fic that way. very inaccurate depiction of military training and whatnot. also, terribly OOC.

In the beginning, the whispers were overbearing. Nonsensical. Rare was a time a new recruit managed to cause such a stir at the base. And this was even long before those sweet eyes became a constant presence amongst the rest.

You were vexed. Much more you cared to admit even to yourself. Leon Kennedy – this fresh-faced ex cop who witnessed the hell that was unleashed upon Raccoon City. You were certainly empathetic; having the unfortunate title of a walking hoard of scarring memories yourself, you held significant regards for the young man. And besides that, most recruits hadn’t the first clue about the horrors of your shared reality. 

However, you found it very hard to close your eyes to his bold antics. The same way every other one of his superiors – your colleagues – seemed to do. 

A real troublemaker, this boy. Not that you have ever caught him in his roguery. But you knew. That face was telling enough on its own; the permanent look of mischief in his eyes and the faint quirk of his lips that made it seem as though he was always up to no good. And of course, word was always quick to spread around the base of all the shit he liked to do. 

This boy had been caught out after the curfew one too many times; and for what goddamn reason each time, you could only wonder. You have seen him, multiple times, being dragged by the ear to someone’s office many early mornings. And you had to admit, he still had quite the mouth on him despite the number of troubles he got himself into. You were only grateful to have never been the one to deal with his shit, your patience too little to put up with such behavior.  

But it didn’t help that he was one of your combat trainees. And those times offered a glimpse into the cracks of his well-behaved façade. He always made sure to stand ahead of everyone in the training field – just within your line of sight where he could have your undivided attention. And he knew he had it. Fully and completely. It was easily impossible for you to ignore the way his clear eyes glittered in the sunlight or how his hair glowed like molten gold. And he knew all of that.

Even during partnered practices – those times when you treaded between the rows of trainees – those were when he truly shined. He would deliver his blows a little bit harder, grunt a little bit louder, or boast more self-righteously to his opponent. Just to draw your eyes to him every time you walked past him. It was as if he’d made it his days’ mission to pester you until you snapped. Because, obviously, you couldn’t punish him for just being a cocky showoff, could you? 

Now, to you, this wasn’t some peculiar behavior. You were used to becoming the currency for the attention slot of the younger men at the base. You were a hardened, experienced agent after all. An exceptionally talented yet young lieutenant with enough wins to your name to make an average man quiver in his shell just from your mere presence. The bonus factor was your incredible physic and a pretty face to go with which never failed to make heads turn. Therefore, very few and far in between were the times you were openly disrespected and many were for the recruits to seek your praise. 

However, often times, you spared no more than a few curt words of affirmation to your trainees; which you were confident they lapped up like starved puppies. It was entirely out in the open and this was also why you weren’t a stranger to being at the receiving end of your coworkers’ relentless teasing. You only imagined this to become even worse if it ever got out that you were involved with one of the recruits.     

But with Leon, it was different. With him, everything was different. He forced you to notice him even when you deliberately intended otherwise. It was too easy for him to walk up to you and gather enough courage to touch your shoulder when he threw his head back and laughed at your dry humor or palm the small of your back to guide you through a door. Almost as if he was driven by this quenchless greed to have your eyes on him at all times and envy when you didn’t. 

You could only wonder where you went wrong with him.

Because it was sorely pathetic. Truly. The stupidly large smile that would part his face into two upon the simplest words of praise out of your mouth was comical. And perhaps, on your better days, you found it endearingly entertaining. 

That was until your suspicions were proven correct. You had believed for long enough now that Leon Kennedy was nothing but a troublemaker and soon, you came to see for yourself why.

It was just another restless night for you; a regular one that fell into the damning familiarity of blood curdling nightmares, riddled with a crippling fear that trapped you within your shell and gripped your throat until it decided to let you go. The cruel souvenir of your missions and endless reminder of all you left behind and not. 

You woke soaked to skin with cold sweat, heart pounding painfully fast against your ribcage. You were still at the base in that shoebox you called your room. You were safe. You tried to remind yourself as your thoughts shifted to overdrive. Fast and unyielding. 

Moonlight filtered through the small window overhead, shedding columns of dancing shadows across the floor. You couldn’t let yourself just sit there and wallow in the darkness. You needed a distraction. So, you grabbed your lighter and a packet of cigarette and wandered out into the halls of the base in hopes of tiring yourself out enough to go back to bed for another hour of sleep. 

But you had only made it to the mess hall when you heard it.

Moaning. Giggling. They were hushed and cautioned but they were definitely there. It made your pulse leap and your hand freeze on the double doors leading into the kitchen once you turned one last corner. Your cigarette sat loosely between your lips as a trail of potent smoke flitted out into the air. This was beyond your fucking pay grade.

Hell, you didn’t believe you could recognize it but you did – the piercing tone of Leon’s voice was unmistakable. He was the loudest of the two, his small hoarse whines hitching every time his body thudded gently against the wall. Holy shit, you nearly blurted out; your eyes finally finding him in the darkness. His arms were pinned by his head, a nameless face buried in the crook of his neck and fuck if he didn’t look gorgeous like that.

You should’ve just turned around and walked away. You knew you should’ve. You should’ve resisted. But your brain failed to make that very simple command to your body. It instead flooded you with vivid thoughts of all you couldn’t see when you ducked back behind the corner of the wall, igniting a rebellious flame that quickly engulfed you whole. You stood there rooted to your spot, obtusely searching in the darkness as your ears rang with the shameless cacophony of pleasure.  

What the fuck am I doing? That remaining sliver of rationale screamed in your head, the burning heat of your cigarette creeping dangerously close to your lips. You were trembling, breaths labored, your one hand against the double doors clenched into a fist. 

It had been too fucking long. You were smothered in work and work and more work. Taking something for yourself, just for your own plain indulgence was never an option. Or rather, you never left the room for that option to grow. Now you were loitering – cowering in the dark, listening to your bratty trainee get fucked into the wall while you ached and questioned everything you once stood for. Really. What were you doing? 

You bridled at your newfound vulnerability in such a darned situation. So, you turned on your heels and hurried back to your room. Insomnia be damned. You had a throbbing need to nurse now. 

“Son of a bitch,” you muttered begrudgingly to yourself as soon as your back turned to the closed door of your room, fingers pressing ardently over your exhausted eyes. “Fuck. That was—”

But you shook your head, not allowing yourself to give anymore voice to your racing thoughts as you slipped back in your cot, twisting yourself in the thin white bedsheet and scolding your own misbehaving mind. 

But too long. It had been just too long. You’d almost forgotten you harbored all these emotions deep inside that cavity which was meant to hold your heart. Years and years of working yourself like a machine finally collapsing to bits over your head. Why did it have to take him for you to realize? Why this?

And maybe one of these days, you’d curse yourself for it. But right now, you were brimmed full with want and it didn’t take long for your fingers to slide between your thighs and seek release to the filthy thoughts of that same recruit you’d sworn yourself off of. Oh, how shameful indeed. But this was your reality now.

Weeks after that night were hellish. Purely torturous. You could no longer be around Leon and not be reminded of that mouthwatering image of his fucked-out face burned in the back of your mind and the memory of what you did with it; as much as it made a gnawing guilt rise like a choking lump up your throat. 

Leon’s goal to claim your attention was ever set in stone. And now, he intended to plant the seed of desire in you as well. Or perhaps, this was probably just you. You were almost convinced you were deluding yourself. But ignoring your newly budded suspicions offered very little resolution. Because you couldn’t ignore him. Not once did he yield his ways.

His touches had become more constant and lingering. His eyes practically two devouring maws downing you in one gulp. He only needed to open his mouth and he would dig a hole for your resolve to lie in. Yes, Lieutenant. Right away, Lieutenant. The way his tongue rolled around your title, and the way his voice swooped into a low melodious hum whenever he spoke it made your pulse race every damn time. The obedience and politeness a stark contrast to the devilish look on his face. 

It was indeed infuriating the level of power he seemed to hold over you now. It was as though your places had been swapped. You were now at his mercy – of what he found frustratingly entertaining at your expense. 

And finally, one late afternoon, his advances became much more targeted.

Mere minutes. That was all it took after your training ended for him to come barging into the changing room. You were only dressing back into your uniform when the door creaked open. You looked over your shoulder long enough to see Leon stepping in before you turned back around.

“Trainees aren’t allowed in here.” You commented flippantly. Though you didn’t believe that was enough to convince him to leave. He hardly ever sought you out privately like this so it had to be important. “And you forget how to knock?”

“I need to talk to you, Lieutenant.”

You hummed, sliding your fingers beneath the straps of your leather harness as you turned around to finally face the young man, brushing off the warm jolt of your heart upon hearing your title from his mouth again.

His eyes trailed the movement of your fingers donning your gloves. Those strong, deadly hands who were the despair of many enemies. He wondered how gently you’d take to him if you had the chance, burying such care and tenderness into his skin that could make him melt in your arms. The mere thought of it was making his knees grow weak. 

It took him a moment before he offered a hurried salute, a furious blush fanning across his cheeks. You bit your lip as it forced to twist into a playful, knowing smile.

“I think I might need some help with my—with my form.”

You arched a brow. Leon didn’t need help. He was the golden boy. Any recruit would be damn lucky to possess a shred of his prowess. But you decided to humor him nevertheless.

“But you’re acing all your trials. What’s the problem?”

And there it was. That charmed grin that broke upon his face immediately at your remark. An amused smirk finally tugged at the corner of your mouth as you waited for whatever excuse he was going to come up with, his intention growing quickly evident to you. 

“More training never hurt—right?”

Your smirk widened. “You mean you’re not sick of it, yet?”

A small smile ghosted over his lips, his eyes growing soft with fondness as he cocked his head. It made the hair bristle on the back of your neck, taken off guard by the sheer delicateness of his behavior. 

“I could never get sick of you, Miss.”

“That’s the spirit, rookie.” You sat a gentle hand on his shoulder and his eyes flickered down to where it touched him. Your crooked smile returned to your lips. “But don’t worry. I’ll push you so much you’ll be begging for it to stop. There’re still months away from your first mission.”

“You really think I can make the cut?”

“Depends how bad you want to become throwaway meat.” You snarked, scoffing a laugh.

Leon frowned and the cold pinprick of realization of your own words swept over your face. Perhaps it was too soon to start talking to an overeager recruit about the indefinite lows of being an agent. You didn’t know anything about his motivations or what he really believed he was going to get out of this decision that begged a lifelong commitment. But then again, he, of all people, had to know what the future held for him… right?

“Listen—” You breathed out a sigh, squeezing his shoulder fondly before letting go. “Let’s focus on getting you through the rest of your trials first. One step at a time, hmm?”

He gave a slow nod, fingers clasping in front of him, wringing and fidgeting. The conversation seemed to be over now but he remained there, lips flickering wordlessly as if he wanted to speak yet again.

“What is it? You wanna say something?” You prompted.

Leon began chewing his lip, immediately drawing your gaze to his mouth. You swallowed dryly as you drank in the tempting pink of his plump skin turning white under the assault of his teeth. Your mind instinctively wandered to the sweetness of his mouth upon yours, the warmth, the delicious moans he would utter against your lips. Fuck, snap out of it, you chastised yourself.

“Well—you know how none of the other trainees can keep up with me.” He started, cheeks endearingly flushed red, breath stuttering when you stepped closer to him. “You’re the best around here and I know you can take very good care of me.”

Even though he was peering down at you, that mischievous look on your face didn’t fail to make his heart stagger. As if you could see right through him. And of course, why wouldn’t you be able to? A woman of your caliber had her fair share of admirers. He for one knew what the boys in the barracks whispered about you when the lights were off. Hell, he was sure even some of your colleagues had the eyes for you. And to say that made him jealous was laughably undeserving of its true nature.

“I know one on one training with you would do me good.” He smiled. “And maybe you, too. I’m sure you’re aching to get your fists on something.” He tilted his head to the side, gaze burning deep into yours. “I’d offer myself.” 

You tossed your head back and laughed. It wasn’t cruel but sure as hell, it carried a hint of condescendence. There was a reason you refused to get on the training field with the rest of the recruits. After sweeping the legs from under one of the boys when he pestered you about ‘not enough hands on experience with a pro’, none of them dared to challenge you again. The memory of it was still fresh and yet, here Leon was making the same request to you.

“I like your ambition, rookie.” Your voice tapered into a low giggle; so seductive in tone, it woke goosebumps on his skin. “It’s adorable.”

He bit the corner of his lip before quickly letting go. It made your eyes trace back to his mouth again and he suppressed a smile. Two can play at a game, Lieutenant, he thought. All the cards were on the table. Weakness after weakness. This was a fair but draining fight, an aggressive push and pull that could only end with one side going against the currents. And it seemed as though you were both playing to make the other lose first.

“Please, Lieutenant. I really need your help. I’d do anything.”

He pleaded so longingly; it made warmth flutter dangerously low in your belly. Those round eyes and wet plump lips were your forbidden fruit. His hair looked so silky and soft; it gripped you with temptation to grab a fistful of it and pull without mercy until he was reduced to nothing but a whining, pathetic mess.

You smirked. “Then meet me after dinner at the gym. I might take you up on that.”

Leon was the first to make it later that evening. He had leapt from his seat as soon as he ate his last spoonful to head for the cramped indoor gym just across the mess hall. Adrenaline had already begun scorching under his skin and he hadn’t even seen you, yet. 

His mind roiled with the thoughts of being in your proximity; to have your fingers touch him and your warmth caress him. To have your pinpoint focus on him and only him. Those simple thoughts excited him more than it probably should’ve and he quickly found himself adjusting the front of his pants and palming himself with a vexed heave of a grunt, desperately trying to tame the hardness growing just under the fabric. He flinched when he heard the double doors flutter open.

“Miss.” He quickly turned in your direction, fingers touching his temple in salute. “You’re early.”

Your hands were stuffed inside your pockets and a small smile adorned your face. The bitter tang of tobacco burned his nose as soon as you were close. You had just come from a fresh smoke, he could tell. Strange. He was just now starting to realize he’s actually smelt that somewhere before. Not just around the base and at the training field where he usually caught you with a cigarette between your lips but… somewhere specific.

“You know those stuff will kill ya.” He commented and you merely hummed, the sentiment not fully sinking in. He waved a hand at you. “I saw you start your second pack just earlier.”

You shrugged. “We all have our vices.”

Vices, vices. Of course. Though faded it was, the memory was slowly coming back to him; the vast darkness of the mess hall, a silence ruptured by the voice of his own desperation. And that familiar smell. Humiliation quickly reared its fanged mouth to sneer at him.

“Let me see your hands.”

Leon offered his white wrapped fingers and you took them carefully into your palm, turning them and eyeing the handiwork before unlacing the white strips to fix the looseness around his thumbs. Your attention drew to the furiously red scabs on his knuckles as they revealed themselves and you frowned.

“I better not hear you’ve been overdoing your training.”

He didn’t respond. His eyes followed your strong arms as they finished his wraps before stepping away to shoulder off your jacket and hang it over one of the machines. You turned to him with a cocked brow, gaze expectant as you rolled your white sleeves up to your forearms, leather-clad fingers shining under the ceiling lights.

“You—you were there that night, weren’t you?” Leon croaked; his throat uncomfortably dry as he swallowed.

Your eyebrows twisted into another frown. At first, you were confused but the deep red of his face was all the explanation you needed to make your pulse throb in your ears. Leon scoffed impatiently, his entire body growing visibly tense as he threw an accusatory finger at you.

“Don’t give me that look. You know what I’m talking about. That—that fucking cigarette smell.” His head trembled as if he meant to shake it but couldn’t manage enough strength to do it. “I knew I recognized it. I smelt it on that night, too.”

You opened your mouth to protest but words failed to come to your aid. You only stole your gaze from him and pinned it to the ground.

“Why didn’t you stop me then?

“It was none of my business.” You met his eyes again, your hands curling into loose fists in a futile attempt to steady yourself as your entire body began to quiver. The look Leon gave you was enough to let you know he didn’t really believe your excuse. “You’re upset I didn’t? It’s not too late. I can still write you up.”

“You were watching me.”

Your fists gripped painfully tight, the velvety leather squeaking from the pressure, teeth gritting as you felt your resolution quickly ebb.

“Is that why you kept it to yourself this whole time?”

“That’s enough.”

Leon nearly recoiled at the cutting look of pure fury in your eyes. His lips fluttered but he couldn’t find the words to speak, his face tingled with the cold wash of embarrassment. 

“Are you done running your goddamn mouth, Kennedy?”  

He bit his lip. “Yes, Miss.”

“Good. Now give me ten laps around the posts.”

He choked down the complaints burning on the tip of his tongue, defeatedly making his way to the nearest column. He could see you in his periphery as he readied himself; arms crossed tightly over your chest, the worn look on your face replaced by one of contempt. You weren’t trying to run away so that had to amount to something. This was a conversation to be had later. He was going to make sure of it.

You weren’t paying much attention to him once he began; Leon could clearly see it every time he ran past you. You stared off into the distance, only occasionally raising your head to announce the number of the laps he finished. He resented the heft of the silence that weighed down between you, the tension that seemed to be winding only tighter and tighter. The stinging in his legs were slowly fueling his frustration the longer he went on and he was nowhere near done.

“Why are you doing this?” He grunted as he circled you once again, his eyes only fleeting over the vacant look on your face. “Are you really that fucking scared to talk about it?”

You were scared. Very much so, in fact. Underneath the stern, hard mask you’d donned sat the trembling frame of a simple woman stewing in the barrage of her own harsh reality. You were already riddled with the shame of all that you have done in the confinement of your own privacy but Leon continued to dig at your core, persisting to exhume the emotions you tucked away behind a veil of indifference and authority. 

Your arms gripped themselves more firmly across your chest, pushing yourself to ignore the distance that was shrinking between you as he progressively tightened the circles he ran around you. Your nails hooked themselves in your flesh, teeth gritting nervously.

“I just want to talk.” His voice came from behind you this time. He spoke so gently, it gripped at your heart. “I’m not upset. I just—” You felt the warmth of his hand caress the crook of your neck, carefully urging you to turn around. “I just want closure.” 

You remained steadfast to stay very still, afraid to meet those bright eyes again, fearful of how terribly your own body might betray you. You merely offered a small glance over your shoulder.

“There’s nothing to talk about.”

His fingers slipped down your arm, his body nearly pressing to your back. You could feel his all too welcoming heat embrace you like a cocoon, the gentle waft of his breaths over the shell of your ear. The closeness was enough to make you feel light on your feet. He sounded much more annoyed when he spoke again. 

“I, on the other hand, think there’s a shit ton to talk about. So, turn around and look at me when I speak to you.”

You did. You spun slowly on your heels and finally faced him. His lovely face was crumpled. He looked utterly defeated. Debilitating shame began nipping at your heart again. Had you only stayed away that night – had you resisted temptation and did the only right thing.

“I asked you a question.” He demanded with a heavy frown, his grip turning iron tight on your arm and you stifled a grimace. 

You didn’t have it in you to be honest but at the same time, you couldn’t find the will to spit a lie straight to his face. Your features distorted into a scowl to match the one on his, teeth clenched and bared through an ugly snarl. What you did next shocked even yourself.

Leon didn’t see the fist flying towards his face in time and he stumbled back before he could retaliate, releasing your arm to catch himself against the column behind him. His eyes were wide and disbelieved; a hand plastered to the rapidly blossoming flush on his cheek. 

“I’m still your superior, Kennedy.” You growled. “You fucking respect me.”

A smirk, though faint, formed at his lips as he straightened himself. “Right now, you’re nothing but a desperate little coward to me. And since you’re too damn afraid to admit it—” He cocked his head, his glittering eyes hiding in the shadow of his unkempt fringe. “I’ll say it for you. You were there that night. I know because I smelt you.”

You stalked closer to him and in that instance, Leon suddenly felt truly unnerved. You no longer looked at him as if he were just a cocky recruit trying to get under your skin. You looked at him like a predator on a prowl, claws brandished to slash. Your shoulders were stiff and straight, your heels echoing menacingly in his ears as you walked closer towards him. 

“You better shut your mouth before I shut it for you.” You said, low and deep, eyes twinkling dangerously. It made goosebumps rouse on his skin but he held his ground. 

“You’re fucking pathetic.”

He knew very well he was playing with fire. He’d never seen you look so furious. So terrified. You were visibly shaking, furrowed brows twitching above your narrowed eyes – a cornered wounded wolf. That was what you were now. You were driven by anger or impatience and both were equally petrifying; the brilliant solider had leapt forth to project unto you. 

“Did you really think you wouldn’t get caught?” A teasing laughter bubbled up his throat. “Be honest with me just this once – did you touch yourself, too?” The look on his face grew more wicked at your prolonged, struggling silence. “Mhm, I bet you did.”

“Don’t flatter yourself—rookie.” The nickname came with much more bite this time and a pang of offense began growing deep in Leon’s chest, tugging immediately at his brows. “You’re barely my type.”

That was enough to push Leon into motion. His punch shot straight for your throat. You dodged just in time for his fist to dart past your neck. Raising your leg immediately, you kicked him in the stomach and he staggered back against the column with a pained groan, clutching at his shirt as he curled into himself. 

“That’s bullshit.” He panted, struggling to straighten himself back up, lips giving in to an unseemly smile. “I’ve seen you checking me out, sweetheart. Especially, when we train – you practically eat me up with those eyes of yours.”

A sharp, angry breath escaped through your nose, fists winding tight once more. Leon chuckled darkly. Bullseye. It was so easy to draw out those unspoken reactions that told enough all on their own; the stark change in your posture and face at every turn of his words was laughable. 

He grinned slyly as he continued, “can’t say it doesn’t stroke my ego a bit. You don’t give anyone the time of day. Yet, here you are.”

Your eyes narrowed into slits, chin tilted up as you stared at the young man down your nose. He held your gaze with his unwavering smile, knowing he now had you exactly where he wanted you most. Trapped with no way out. That was bound to make you finally spill your guts. 

“So, you might be saying one thing but everything you’ve done so far, isn’t convincing me.” He finished with a nonchalant shrug, his boyish smile growing wider across his lips. “It’s okay to have favorites, Lieutenant. Just admit it that I’m yours.”

You were stuck. Leon was adamant to do you in until nothing was left of you but the toxic concoction of your emotions; until you were stripped down to nothing but the bare bone of that terrifying truth hiding just within. You were truly stuck and you could feel yourself sink rapidly into despair. The quicksand you’ve created finally starting to swallow you whole.

“I know you like the big boys better and I promise you, Miss – I’m very big. I can show you. You just have to ask.”

“Do you have any idea what you’re asking for right now?” You rasped, face stricken with one look of pure defeat. Your inhibition slowly becoming lost to the beckoning cry of desire.

He nodded. “I know that I want you. Really fucking bad. And I told you I’d do anything.” He carefully reached for your wrist and held your hand close to the front of his pants. Your eyes fell on the bulging tension of his crotch and you swallowed, breath hitching in your throat. “So, I’m asking you to touch me and see for yourself. I’ll be good for you. Promise.”

You hooked your lip between your teeth, eyeing Leon’s pleading face before letting your gaze drop again to his crotch. He squirmed ever so slightly under the weight of your probing eyes, his fingers twitching over yours as they held onto you. This was it. You could finally have him.

He moaned shakily once your palm enveloped him, head lolling back against the wall. His hand gripped your shoulder as if you were his lifeline and he would collapse if he didn’t cling to you. Heat rushed through you as his hardness poked your hand and a wry smirk curled the corner of your mouth, confidence returning to your words.

“So hard already?” You chuckled teasingly. You leaned into his ear, breathing gently against the side of his face, your voice turning deep and husky. “Who’s the pathetic one now?”

Leon whimpered incoherently and a wicked grin broke upon your lips. You began pressing a trail of wet kisses to his jaw, humming softly against his skin the more he moaned, intrigued by the generous reactions coaxed by such simple gestures. Any louder and he could be heard through the doors had someone walked by.

“Such a needy little puppy. You’ve been dying to find a way to get my hands on you. That’s why you wanted to train in private, didn’t you?” He only whined in response, writhing against your hand to seek a rougher friction in spite of your miserly touch. You giggled. “Not so cocky now, huh?” 

“Please—please, Miss. I—I—” 

His trembling fingers pressed your hand harder to himself, holding your wrist firmly just to slide your palm back and forth over his cock. You let him have it, relishing in the succession of high-pitched moans that slipped through his lips.

“If you want something from me then I need to hear it first.”

“More. I – I need more.” He rasped. “I need to feel your hand on my cock. Please.”

You smiled as you kissed the corner of his mouth, your fingers starting to fidget with his belt and undoing his pants as quickly as you could. He breathed out a quivering sigh once the fabric grew loose and began slipping down from his waist. You slid a finger under the hem of your glove but Leon stopped you immediately.

“Keep them on. I don’t mind the leather.” 

Your smile broadened, twisting into a crude crooked grin at the corner of your mouth. Leon laughed breathlessly.

“God—that look in your eyes…” He sat a hand on the side of your neck, looking up at you through his long lashes, eyes sweetly round. “You’re dangerous. You could ruin me and I’d fucking let you.”   

You shushed him and he nodded obediently, sinking your gloved hand in his boxers with teasing speed. A loud moan erupted from Leon as the cold smooth leather engulfed him entirely. He bucked unwittingly into your touch, slipping clumsily in and out of your hold once you began stroking him. 

He plastered his palm over his mouth to sheath the uncontrollable noises tumbling freely out of him. You couldn’t help but snicker and his face immediately glowed a pretty flushed pink, a window of apprehension opening through the dazed look in his eyes.  

“You’re so fucking cute—gosh.” Your mouth pressed to his ear and he shuddered as you growled, “I want to eat you up. I want to fucking eat you all up.”

Your lips slipped below his jawline to trace the span of his soft neck. He gasped at the first kiss, a tiny giggle rising in his chest as his head jerked at your ticklish touch. You gripped him more tightly and the jovial bounce in his throat waned into a loud whine. His hips twitched at the firmness, his hand lightly pushing at yours as if he was suddenly too sensitive to touch. 

“S—so rough. Mhm!” He whimpered. 

You eased your hold on him and his shoulders instantly relaxed, a content huff of breath escaping his parted lips. But soon, he began moaning a complaint. “Use me. I can take it.” He mumbled through the slow pumps of your hand. “Don’t hold back on me, honey. Please.”

No more needed to be told. Your speed upped instantaneously and so did the tone of Leon’s moans, piercing and loud, and he had to muffle them against his palm again. Your teeth latched onto the delicate skin of his neck, roving and bruising every bit of free expanse they claimed.  

His curses were strangled, his moans purely made of inaudible sobbing sounds, spitting and shrill and filtering with ease through his fingers. He was getting close and you could also tell by the way he throbbed and leaked in your hand; and by the simple way he couldn’t get a proper string of sentence out to let you know.

“I’m… I’m… I’m gonna cum. You’re gonna – you’re gonna make me cum.”

“It’s alright.” You cooed under his ear. “You can cum for me. Go on, sweetheart.”

And as though you tugged on the strings of his orgasm like a puppet master, he came apart with a sonorous and dulcet moan, pouring himself into your fist. You carefully withdrew your hand as his erratic breaths slowly turned calm and even.

Leon eyed the glistening sleek coating your gloved fingers as they went back to hang at your side again. You really did it to him. Him. That was surely the unthinkable and he couldn’t believe his stroke of luck. His lips parted with a grin; a gesture which you returned as well until your eyes sought the large clock on the wall and a faint frown pulled at your face.

“Guess you have to skip laundry day this time.” He tried to earn back your attention as you turned away from him and slid off your gloves. But it was pointless. You weren’t looking back at him anymore. Worry quickly weighed down on his eyebrows as he busied his hands with his jeans. “But what about you?”

However, you were already moving towards your jacket. He was confused. What happened?

“I have to be up in a couple hours.” You sighed, adjusting the lapels of your jacket. “I’m going on a mission. If things go according to plan, it shouldn’t take more than a day.”

It was as if he was struck by the full weight of a crushing wave at the news. He knew this was your job and soon to be his. But he hadn’t anticipated the anxiety to hit him as hard as it did now. The lines of worry etched deep between his brows. You smiled.

“Don’t look so nervous now or I’ll start thinking you actually care about me.”

He scoffed in defiance but he didn’t say anything. Of course, he cared about you. But he couldn’t bring himself to speak it. It was embarrassing and he doubted this – whatever this was – went beyond just plain entertainment. Not that he minded. But your assumption felt like a stinging stab of insult. 

“I’m only doing a short protocol run in Raccoon City. But I won’t be on my own.” You explained. As if that could help.

His eyes shot up to yours at the mention of the city and you immediately regretted ever opening your mouth, muttering a curse under your breath. He strode towards you and gripped your shoulders. 

“I’m coming with you.”

You rolled your eyes. “You’re staying at the base just like the rest of the recruits.”

“But—”

“None of that.” You raised your palm defensively. “My job right now is to protect you and this isn’t up for debate.”

“I’m perfectly capable. I survived an outbreak. A small protocol run is nothing. I can do it. I know I can.”

You raised your voice, your tone growing biting and authoritative. “You listen to me, Kennedy. I don’t care what your status was before you came here but right now, you’re not a soldier. So, when I say you can’t come along then you won’t. Am I clear?”

Leon turned solemn. His eyes, now hopeless and downcast, fell to the ground. You heaved a heavy sigh, sitting a gentle hand on the young man’s shoulder.

“Look, I can only imagine what you’ve been through,” you started, voice hushed and soft. “And I can tell that city means something to you. And I promise, one day, we’ll go there together. But today – try not to be a hero today.”

He nodded even though you could see how hesitantly, and you finally let your hand drop from his frame, a content smile ghosting over your lips. Leon reached for your wrist once you turned to walk away, his fingers pressing gently to your skin.

“Please be careful.”

You nodded. “Always.”

You were gone by the time Leon woke to begin his day. Training wasn’t the same without you as the substitute soldier watching over the field only reminded him of your absence. It shouldn’t have taken more than a day. So, he awaited your return impatiently. 

But how naïve he was to believe that? Of course, you had to have been merely comforting him. One small look at that pitiful look on his face and you leapt to remedy his worry. Because now it had been more than a whole day. Days even. And yet, no sign of you or the team who had gone with you. 

He asked around the base for you, the mission, anything that could ease the deadweight of dread in his stomach. However, the unresponsiveness was driving him insane; and learning to expect the worst since not long ago, he couldn’t stop from convincing himself that something had gone terribly wrong. 

Then, at long last on the eve of the third day, your helo showed in the clear sky over the base. But the air was already heavy as it landed and the soldiers deplaned, their number significantly less than when they first left. Something had truly happened. 

Leon held his breath as he sought your face amongst the rest, his pulse quickening more and more the longer you remained missing. And finally, the helo took off back towards the sky without you ever even showing up.

He felt his stomach sink, his knees nearly giving away underneath his weight. His eyes frantically searched the perimeter filled with the returning soldiers and the crowd gathered to welcome them back, hoping he had somehow missed you walking among them. 

“Did you hear what happened to those poor fuckers?” He heard a voice pipe up beside him. “Almost found none of their remains. Makes you glad you aren’t one of them, huh?”

Another voice chimed in. “It sure makes you believe in the cross and the lord.” A muffled chorus of laughter rolled between the bunch. 

Leon didn’t wait any longer to hear the rest of conversation, rushing back inside the base to where he could get a proper fucking word from someone. (Y/N), please, please, please be okay, his mind reeled with the thoughts. Fuck, I knew I should’ve convinced her to take me with them.

Without thinking twice, he turned the corner that led down to your office. He blinked and instantly, realization dawned on him. You were always there for him whenever he sought you out – always in possession of the answers he was looking for. And now you weren’t here to quell his fear like you always did. As he neared the polished wood of your door and raised his knuckles to knock, he feared you wouldn’t be there to welcome him like you always did. He feared that the unfortunate fate of those soldiers had befallen you as well.

All of a sudden, his eyes were drawn to the passing figure just down the hallway, catching enough sight of it to quickly realize the man was one of the soldiers accompanying you into the mission. Leon called out to him, his voice lost in the commotion, chasing after him through the narrow walls.

“Sir. A moment?” The older soldier only spared a brief glance at him, not stopping to fully acknowledge him. “Where’s Lieutenant (L/N)? Did she – did she make it back?”

For a long moment, the man remained silent and Leon thought his question was going to be unanswered yet again. Then he began dreading the actual answer – if it was going to put the seal of confirmation on his worries. 

“She’s in the interrogation room.”

That was all that came through that tight-lipped mouth before the soldier hurried off. Leon’s steps slowed to a stop. He was a dizzying turmoil of emotions; relief that, finally, he had word that you were okay and the ebbing adrenaline giving way to mere confusion. What had happened that’s sent everyone into such a feral panic? 

It took him a while but eventually, he managed to find you. Or where he believed you to be. A few soldiers loitered outside a door, waiting for something. White light flared from the small window that peeked inside the room. He stalked closer, heart hammering in his chest to having had at long last found you – safe and alive – sitting behind a table. 

Across from you was a person, wound in obscene layers of chains, head completely sheathed within a thick wrap. Their shoulders were slouched, shifting erratically with every breath they drew as if they were shaking. They were very still for a few seconds until Leon noticed your lips move and they shot straight to their feet, too keen to lunge at you before they were promptly subdued by their restraints; and they slumped back in their seat. 

You were rather calm, a loose fist flexing slowly on the tabletop. But a faint frown tugged at your brows and that was enough to let Leon know you were frustrated. The conversation, whatever words being exchanged, wasn’t going too well. 

It didn’t take long for you to finally resign and walk out of the room. The soldiers outside straightened to your attention, awaiting your commands. Only then Leon noticed the sling over your shoulder and his pulse began to race once again.

“Lieutenant!” He beckoned impatiently as soon as the door fluttered shut behind you. 

A weak smile crossed your lips, nodding at him before turning your focus to the other men in the hallway. 

“Alert the medics right away. She needs DEVIL.”

“But, ma’am—” Objected one of the soldiers and you interrupted. “We don’t have much time left. We need her compliance if we want any information out of her.”

The bunch nodded and offered their salutes before entering the room to follow your orders. That was when you slumped against the wall, a worn breath heaving in your chest. Leon came to your side immediately. 

“Jesus, (Y/N)—I was so worried.”

His lips pressed to your forehead, fingers gently cradling the back of your neck. The kiss was lingering and firm but relieved. It almost managed to wash away the exhaustion weighing on your shoulders. You smiled timidly at him once he leaned away.

“I came back a few hours ago – I’m alright.”

“You’re hurt.” He bridled, gesturing at your arm. “I should’ve been there. I should’ve — I should’ve done something.”

“Leon, I promise. I’m fine.”

“What the hell even happened out there?”

“We just ran into a nasty surprise.” You rubbed your eyes with a deep sigh, struggling to keep the wearing impact of the mission at bay. “Found a survivor. Can you believe it?”

“Her?” He motioned with his head at the window, the bound person inside the interrogation room and you nodded.

“She’s damn lucky we found her when we did. As much as she dealt us some damage.”

He waved a hand at the cast around your arm and you suddenly felt the urge to shrink away from him. The fury was pure evident in his voice when he spoke again, his voice low and gruff. “She did this?”

“Calm down.” You scolded gently. “She’s been through it. If you can’t tell, that’s not her right now.”

You started down the hallway, the same path Leon had come earlier to find you, and he trailed behind you like an orphan puppy, continuing to pummel you with his arguments.

“Which means It’s stupid to show her this level of mercy. Did no one learn from what happened?”

“Leon,” you breathed out another sharp sigh, turning your eyes to glance at the visibly annoyed look on his face. “This was a group decision. Do you trust your superiors?”

The silence he responded with grew questionably long. You stopped and he only did so a few steps ahead of you, turning his shoulder hesitantly, knowing fully well you were expecting him to say something.

“Do you trust me?”

He nodded. “I do. Yeah.”

“Okay. Then I promise you, this is for the best.”

Then it hit you; a stab of debilitating pain sending your vision churning as if you were stuck inside a blender. You braced a hand against the wall as you groaned, eyes squeezing shut. Leon looked horrified. His gaze fell on the dark splotches of blood seeping through the white bandage of your arm and he began to panic, rushing to hold under your good arm.

“I’m fine.” You croaked, willing yourself to move without his aid but the blood loss was finally taking its toll.

He frowned. “Really? You’re bleeding.”

And with that, he dragged you to the hospital wing despite your irritated objections. 

You were fine. You continued to insist and insist much to Leon’s disdain. Of course, this wasn’t anything you couldn’t recover from and you made sure that was ingrained in his brain by the time you were nearly done with your blood transfusion. And by then, he had shot down every one of your complaints with a lenient glare which did little to silence your petulance.

He kept his distance until your nurse stopped frequenting your bedside and then he crept closer to you like a scared stray. As if he was afraid to set something off and send things into a spiral. Though the look on his face told you he was still slightly irked.

“You’re insane. In case I haven’t told you, yet.”

You laughed drowsily, a bitter edge to the otherwise joyful sound. Leon’s hand slipped over yours, hesitantly at first, then he gripped them tighter, fingers threading together.

“You worry too much, rookie.” You offered a lopsided smile, taking in his face that was silhouetted against the fluorescent ceiling lights. “There are much bigger things than me here.”

“Don’t.” He choked out and your brows furrowed, initially confused by the sudden change in his voice until you noticed the glistening line of tears coating his lashes.  

“Oh, Leon—”

“Jus—st stop saying things like that.” His eyelids flickered rapidly, blinking back the impending fall of hot tears. “It’s not fair. Why does it have to be you?”

You scoffed another laugh. “Jesus. I know I don’t look like it but I’m still alive, you know.”

His lip began to quaver and he bit it into his mouth, stealing his face away from your eyes as a streak of tears streamed down his cheeks, his fingers trembling between yours.

“Leon, look at me.” You crooned sweetly, squeezing his hand. He refused, his gaze still glued to the ground. You smiled. “Come on, baby. Look at me.”

The soft tone of your voice, the pet name, captured his ears, and he finally returned his attention to you. His rigid shoulders sank as you slid your hand from his grasp to pat on the mattress. His glossy eyes locked onto yours momentarily before he sat down on the edge of your bed and helped you sit up.

You brushed away the wet trail of tears with your thumb before holding the side of his face, pulling him in just slightly before he eagerly closed the distance between you, kissing you chastely on the lips. The anxious tension thawed out almost immediately, giving its place to a swelling comfort. 

“I’ll be fine, okay?” You murmured once you let go. “I don’t want you to worry so much about me.”

Leon nodded but his eyes weren’t looking at you anymore. They were pinned down to where your fingers sat woven together on the hard mattress. 

“I’m sorry.” His voice was quiet, almost inaudible. I don’t want to lose you. I don’t want anything happening to you. But he couldn’t speak those words, fearing it would turn real. That he would curse the one good thing he had going in his life for once. “I know you got this.”

“Is this – what is all this about?”

He hooked his lip between his teeth, the warmth of his hand leaving your fingers. You waited patiently for his answer – if there was going to be any. His silence was enduring and heavy and all of a sudden, you felt as though a thick wall of glass erected between you.

“It’s nothing.” He murmured.

Your lips curling into a sweet compassionate smile. As much as he fought to hide it, his fear was laid bare before you. You could tell what could be going through his mind when he was faced with the possibility of loss. Something you had to experience many times – with loved ones and otherwise. You never got used to the grief and you could easily understand him. 

“I was a bit younger than you when I first signed up,” you started. “Back then, I thought I was only running away from my old life; but I was also leaving someone very close to me behind. Someone who loved me more than anyone ever had.” Leon glimpsed at you from the corner of his eyes and at the bitter quirk of your lips as you recalled the memory. “When I left, I became a dead soldier walking in her eyes. Then that goddamn outbreak happened and… and…” You drew a shaky gasp, shaking your head lightly at yourself. Your fist folded against your chest, clasping around a pendant hiding beneath your shirt. You heaved a sigh before you continued, “when I went back to the city for the first time, this was the only thing left of her that I could find.”

The dull silver dangled over your shirt, the frail thing blackened in parts, no doubt an aftermath of the government bombings of the city; the locker’s tiny hinge was askew and its delicate carvings had almost completely melted off. A sullen huff of laughter pushed through your lips.  

“In a twisted way, I was the one who outlived her. That doesn’t seem fair, does it?”

Leon remained quiet. He didn’t know what to say. He knew this was a realistic way of seeing things, almost expecting what your next words meant to be. But he couldn’t shake the bothersome weight of cynicism laced in your tone – in everything you said. It all sounded much too bleak. 

But maybe this was what everything meant to be: bleak. Bleak and unredeemable. 

“What I’m trying to say is—” You breathed out another sigh. “You can’t keep guessing what cards you’ll be dealt. You just have to put your best one down.” 

“It’s really not that big of a deal.” He mumbled in weak protest.

Your shoulders shifted in a lazy shrug. “I really hope so.”

They codenamed her Banshee; that strange woman who ambushed the mission team and ended up being held captive at the base. 

Leon never saw her since the morning of your return. You were strangely secretive about it unlike how often you were there to ease his mind in the past. The confidentiality was troubling him even more. What was so important about this woman? What information could be needed from her? Why was she being held like a prisoner?

All the suspicions and the questions were why he discovered those agonized shrieks himself – one night when he passed the infirmary room on his way back to the barracks a little before curfew. Or rather, snuck. Because you had refused to take him with you. Again.

The mazelike hallways leading to the infirmary was restricted for most, he soon came to realize. Guards littered the vicinage. Security cameras hung from every crevice with every corner he turned. Just what the hell were they trying to protect? Leon had to find out. He had to know what ungodly things were being done to Banshee to rouse such gut churning noises out of her. If she was treated then this was blatant torture; and that altruistic part of him couldn’t close his eyes to it. 

Of course, he wasn’t capable of much in his position. But now, your words weren’t enough to convince him anymore. For once, he was doubting you. Because he’d seen you on the very same night he snuck into the heavily guarded unit. You were definitely in on the matter, you knew the complete extent of it; yet, you refused to confide any in him, pretending things were sound and fine. Lies, lies, lies. It was driving him up the wall.

Though maybe his haste had fueled his recklessness a bit. As much as he moved calculatedly, making it on the precise minute the night guards were changing post, it was completely lost on him that a higher rank soldier could arrive at any given instance. Because that was how you caught him.

You saw the faint shape of a shadow shed onto the floor, its source evidently cowering just behind the corner of the wall. It remained completely still as you squinted with suspicion into the distance, one hand reaching slowly for the pistol in your holster and brandishing it. 

“Who’s there?” You called out, cocking your gun. “Show yourself.”

Leon looked to his side where he had just come from. The new guards were going to assume post soon and they were going to find him here if he didn’t do something quickly enough. He could hear your slow footfalls as you crept closer to where he stood in hiding. 

He raised his palms, sheepishly slithering into sight beneath the pale red ceiling lights. You breathed a relieved sigh, lowering your arm. But then, a deep look of anger struck your features.

“Somehow I knew you’d still come here.” You said through teeth. “Do I wanna know what you’re even up to?” 

“I’m sorry, Lieutenant.” He choked out.

You rolled your eyes, stepping closer to him and he grew visibly tense; straightening his neck, eyes avoidant and staring right past the top of your head. His throat shifted as he swallowed thickly. Your frown deepened, eyes turning narrowed. 

“Wrong, Kennedy. What are you doing here?” Your voice was low as if you didn’t want to be heard.

Leon fought himself to meet your eyes again. You were (Y/N). He didn’t need to fear you. But he was quickly losing faith once his gaze crossed yours again. His words were crippled by his anxiety and he merely gaped as your heated glare remained fixated on him.

A snarl twisted your lips at his helpless silence. You grabbed a firm hold of his wrist and began walking up the hallway, dragging him along with you. He trailed behind like a ragdoll, letting you force him through the winding ways and evade the incoming guards until you found a vacant room and shoved him inside.

He stumbled into the room as if his feet had gone lame, only slowly turning around to face you when you closed the door and flickered the lights on. Of course, you still looked furious and he hadn’t yet found the words to defend himself with. Not that he had prepared much for when he was going to be caught. 

“I’m waiting.” You said curtly, the scowl on your face never changing, slipping your gun back into its holster. 

“I—well, I—I don’t know. I just wanted to see what was going on.”

All of a sudden and without any warnings, you charged at him and Leon recoiled into the edge of the desk behind him, eyes blowing wide with shock. Your curled knuckles sat against his chest, pushing at him firmly.

“You decided to go against my order. And here I thought you trusted me.”

“I do—” He stammered, voice shrill with panic. “I do trust you.”

“This doesn’t look much like it now, does it?” 

“I can explain.”

“Then fucking explain.”

He swallowed again, eyes fluttering rapidly as they shifted around in search for an indefinite point of focus until they found yours again. Your jaw was clenched, a single furrowed brow twitching with frustration. He had to say something to remedy the damage. 

“I just think this isn’t humane.” You arched a brow and his remaining sliver of courage began to dwindle. Thinking of the words to say, he was quickly realizing how idiotic what he did truly was but he continued to speak what was truly on his mind, “it’s not right to do all these experiments on her.”

“You think that’s what’s happening here?”

“No. I—I don’t know.”

You scoffed. “Was it worth it then? Getting in trouble for this. What if someone else saw you?”

“I’m sorry.” He repeated himself timidly. 

“Jesus, this isn’t about that,” your voice rose an octave. “This is dangerous. You could’ve gotten fucking killed.”

Leon stared at you with a slack mouth, eyes wide and scared. You shook your head and stepped away from him, suddenly caving into the sharp strike of pain through your shoulder, a grimace distorting your face. Your hand instinctively rose to put pressure over the bandage dressing your wound. 

He so terribly wanted to hold you and soothe your aches, to place kisses to your hair and comfort you. He hated seeing you so hurt. He reached a hand out towards you, fingers nearly beckoning but they dropped limply back at his side again, thinking better of it.

“One word out of your mouth,” you lifted your head to say with a cutting glint in your eyes, voice almost breathless from that brief episode of pain. “One fucking word about tonight out of your mouth and I’m signing your papers myself. Am I clear?”  

He nodded. “Yes, Miss.”

A deep sigh rushed through your nose. “Does anybody else know about this?” Leon shook his head no and your lips pursed into a crooked line, something slightly akin to a smile. “At least, you were smart about that – come on.”

You gestured with your head towards the door and Leon frowned in confusion, his eyes shortly darting to the pristine white wood before returning to yours. You could easily read the unspoken question written on his face.

“I’m walking you back to the barracks. I can’t have you wandering around on your own.”

The way back to the unrestricted sector was slow yet comfortably quiet. Your focus rest upon avoiding the main hallways where soldiers stood guard and cameras roved the vicinity. He felt oddly safe despite the circumstance – safe with you. 

Leon walked alongside you, the back of your hand warm against his. His fingers begged to spread over your palm and clasp tightly around it. They traced coyly across your wrist and right then, he caught you glancing at him from the corner of your eyes and this might have been a trick of the shadows but he could swear he saw a smile form on your lips. 

Your fingers threaded through his. “I’m sorry for lashing out back there.” You whispered, squeezing his hand before raising it to see the healing scars strewn all over his knuckles. You kissed them with caution and Leon drew a gasp, shivering from the gentleness of your touch. “I was so scared for you. I kept thinking about what would’ve happened if someone else—”

He interrupted, “(Y/N), I know. You don’t have to explain.”  

The shadows cast over your face made the soft frown tugging at your brows much more twisted as you continued to stare ahead into the darkness. 

“You’re not gonna pull this shit again, are you?” Leon almost didn’t hear you with how quietly the question came. “I was serious about it being dangerous.”

An oppressing silence settled between you as he pondered your words. You tilted your head to glimpse the troubled look on his face. Of course, the curiosity wasn’t going to just vanish all on its own. And knowing him, you were quite certain it was only a matter of time until he found another way to the infirmary. You sighed. Maybe sharing some information wasn’t entirely terrible.

“Banshee’s had some interesting developments since getting her first dose.”    

Leon perked up at that. “What do you mean?”

“She’s very strong. Three men can’t hold her down when she starts throwing a fit.” You explained. “And she heals quickly. Tooquickly. The medics have a hard time keeping her IVs in. They think it has something to do with her infection.” You looked at him again. “She still has her intelligence, so combined with everything else – that’s too much power for just one person.”

“What’s she being kept for?” He asked but he had a feeling he already knew even though you refused to answer anymore.

“Just promise me that you will stay away. For your own safety. And stop asking questions for fuck’s sake.”

He stopped and the link between your hands held you back as well. You turned with a frown. Leon’s face was cloaked in the shadows but you could still see his glistening eyes. He tugged you forward and cradled you against his chest.

“And what about you? Aren’t you supposed to be safe, too?”

“Leon—”

“I know we talked about this. I’m not doubting you. I just—” He trailed off, biting his lip before he started again, “I don’t want to lose you.”

There. He finally said it. But your silence was too telling. Then you slowly began to pull away from him. 

You were startled, the plane rawness in the confession making your skin crawl with goosebumps. This – all of this – erased any remaining shred of distance between you. Intimacy had become such a stranger to you after so long, it was difficult for you to welcome it again now. Affection lending all but true comfort, you had come to learn years ago. 

“You can’t. No.” You protested, shaken with panic, pulse racing.

Leon’s grip became tight around you, keeping you firm against himself. “It’s you who can’t. Listen to me—” He gave your shoulder a gentle jolt when your head began whipping around as if looking for a way out. “I won’t let you keep treating yourself like you’re disposable. You’re—you’re so much more than that to me.”

A fragile lump knotted in your throat as your eyes met his again, your lip quavering of its own accord. He held your face, his thumb brushing over your cheek as an adoring smile curved his mouth. You shook your head but to what question or depiction of disagreement, you couldn’t tell anymore. You only knew you were protesting the silent wailing of your heart that called out to him. 

But this felt right. He felt right. Everything about this snippet of time was perfectly that – right.

“Please, (Y/N)—let me show you. Just one chance. Just—just for tonight.”

Your eyes searched his face in the darkness, your heart beginning to hammer in your throat. He was so close to you that you could feel his cool breaths feathering over your skin, slow and even – unlike your sharp ones. His arms held you protectively as if he could shield you from yourself. And in this moment, the idea of letting go seemed all too inviting. 

At last, you nodded sheepishly. “Okay.”

Leon followed you again as you led the way to your room. He had seen your office many times before; the flourishing link between you afforded him confidence to seek you in solitude at times. However, he was never once inside your private quarters. 

The room hardly looked lived in; the bed was clean and made, the desk against the wall barren of any belongings – a room fit for a soldier prepared to depart as soon she was called upon. It all was cold and vacant except for a small pot of plant which sat on the windowsill. The leaves were young and fresh, swaying slowly in the breeze wafting in from the small crack in the window. 

You distanced yourself to shut the window before turning your eyes to the tiny plant, stroking it carefully between two fingers as a smile adorned your lips. Then you peered back at Leon who was still standing at the door, watching you silently with a warm expression, gaze soft and loving. Your heart began to flutter again.

“I’m all yours, Leon.” You admitted quietly, longingly.

He approached you slowly, arms twisting around you once again, engulfing you in his warmth. His lips were merely a breath apart from yours, caressing you ever so lightly. You could feel their tempting softness from this small distance. So sweet. So incredibly sweet. You were already growing weak in the knees.

Leon held your face and at last, his lips pressed gently upon yours. His kisses were paced and sensuous. Careful. His fingers sank in your hair to brace against the back of your neck, his thumb caressing your cheek absentmindedly. Your fist gripped loosely over his chest, the collar of his shirt crumpling between your digits and pulling him tighter to yourself.

A breathless moan escaped him as he stumbled into you from the force and he giggled against your lips, leaning away to smile down at you. 

“You’re so beautiful.” You whispered and his face became flushed, his smile growing bashful. You pushed away the hair from his eyes, letting your fingers rest within the soft locks. Leon pressed a small kiss to the heel of your palm. “Will you promise me something?”

“Anything, honey.”

“Please never cut your hair.”

An adorable, boyish grin lit up his pretty face. “I take it you like it then?”

“It makes it easier to boss you around.” You finished as your grip tightened on his roots and his eyes squeezed shut, his jaw becoming visibly clenched. A tight-lipped moan trembled on his tongue. 

“Always have to make a point to be so mean to me.”

He offered no time for you to gather a response, dropping his hands to your knee and lifting it just slightly over his own leg. “Up,” he muttered and you jumped, coiling your legs around his waist and arms around his neck as he caught you against his hips. His lips were back upon yours soon after.

His head was tilted, mouth parted and tongue flicking teasingly at your lip. Your hand flexing in his soft hair coaxed moan after moan from him before his fingers dug mercilessly into the flesh of your thighs, leading you both down on the edge of the bed. His hands slipped under your shirt, spreading wide over your back as if to claim you beneath his touch.

It was almost instinctual to begin grinding against him, shifting your hips again and again over his cock that slowly became tangibly hard under you. Leon moaned sharp and drawn out, stuttering them against your lips as his kisses grew slow and clumsy. He pulled away a mere hair’s breadth with his eyes still closed, forehead pressed to yours.

“I want to make it up to you.” His nose brushed yours, his wet lips agape and desperate to be put to something as they traced the air, blindly looking for yours again. “Can you lie down?”

You nodded and his hold tightened around your waist, helping you down gently against the hard mattress. His fingers soothed your clothed thighs as he seated himself between your legs. His smile was soft when he pressed a kiss to your knee, nodding approvingly once you began stripping your jeans.

Leon discarded the article onto the floor once it came undone, his hand then quickly returning to your legs to push them carefully apart. He moved with a certain care that made a shy smile grow on your face and a pleasant warmth in your cheeks. You bit your lip, unable to hold in the giddiness that bubbled deep in your throat.

“What?” He crooned with a soft smile of his own, fingers still caressing your legs.

“Nothing. It’s just – this is perfect.” He cocked his head, eyes bright as you spoke. “I can’t believe you’re here.”

Leon smiled again. “I can’t believe you’re here.”

The ensuing silence that formed between you was gentle and comfortable, sitting with its featherlike weight in the air as you both relished in each other’s warmth, doing nothing but merely sharing delicate touches and chaste kisses in between soft loving glances. 

It was as though time had slowed to a stop in the room; no worry or caution waiting to cast doom upon your little square of joy. The turbulence of the vast world lost under the delightful heft of peace seeded within this very moment. Nothing could steal this away from either of you.

When the quiet broke apart, it was you who had reached a hand between your thighs to hold Leon under the chin. He closed his eyes with a content smile before he tilted his head to press another small kiss to your knee, his fingers gliding slowly up the side of your leg.

“You’re the best thing that’s happened to me in a long time.” You confessed, voice low and timid. “I’m sorry I didn’t realize it soon enough.”

He shushed you softly, leaving a trail of kisses lower and lower on your thigh, carefully making his way down to the throbbing wet center awaiting the warmth of his mouth. His gaze flickered up to yours once his lips were a breath shy of your swollen clit. 

“We have the rest of our time to make up for it, honey.”

And when the sentence reached its last, Leon’s tongue sat flat against your pussy. Your chest hitched from the heated contact, breath knotting in your throat. Your core gripped with need as your clit became embraced in the wet heat of his sweet mouth and pinched playfully between his slippery teeth. 

He took to you carefully; his eyes attentive to the flitting emotions on your face and his ears to the soft noises escaping your parted lips. He took in the small movements of your hips as they circled slowly against the mattress, writhing and coaxing bigger moans from you every time you met his mouth more firmly.

Your fingers soon sought purchase in the thin white sheets below you, gripping them tightly in your grasp as Leon upped his pace. He moaned heatedly once your other hand – the same hurting one –reached for the mess of hair on top of his head and threaded through the roots gingerly, pushing his mouth tighter upon yourself.

That was what he needed to lose all sense of self and bury his face into your cunt with a low groan, mouth panting and reeling against you. He took you onto his tongue with fervent vigor, making himself more and more breathless with every flutter along your clit, spurred on only by your encouraging moans and sharp gasps.

“Mmmgod… you taste heavenly, sweetheart.” He moaned breathily, his senses whelmed by the clear flavor of your pussy and your soft smell that made him want to dig into you with the neediness of a starved man’s first supper. “Want my tongue inside you—yeah? Want me to fuck you with my tongue, baby?”

You whined softly at the twist of desperation in his voice as his tongue continued to flicker rapidly over your clit, his mouth slurping your sleek through the urgency of the question. You nodded quickly, moaning your approval right before the firm tip of his tongue slithered into your folds, making you arch your back at the assault of heat lurching deep within your core.

He slid his tongue in and out of you swiftly, moaning as he downed more of your taste, the lucid flavor sending his mind into a feverish turmoil – the focal of his attention stranded in only your pleasure alone. He returned to suck on your clit with a newfound tenacity, his breaths coming short and shallow against your fevered skin. 

“God, you’re incredible,” he muttered through a mouthful. “I need more… I need more.”

The small cot squeaked as Leon began to grind himself against it, his fingers digging crescents into the meat of your thighs, his own desire reaching a melting point as the winding heat in your body mounted the delicious borderline of collapse. Your fingers gripped tighter in his hair, your body growing tense with the anticipation of your release.

“I’m so close. I’m gonna – I’m gonna…”

But the warning came too late as your orgasm coursed through you like a storm and you came with a soft cry, pushing your head back against the mattress, the heat at last breaking loose inside your core. Leon’s lips roved your inner thighs as your high gradually ebbed, pressing slow gentle kisses to your skin. He listened to your soft gasps of breath, relishing in the gentle way your fingers continued to flex in his hair. 

You were strangely meek and sweet in a moment like this, Leon thought to himself; so vulnerable, so… human. The perfect soldier lain on a cheap hard cot, reduced to a whimpering mess at the mercy of his mouth. It made him smile adoringly as he raised his head to look at you.

“You’re still with me?” He said with a soft huff of laughter, noticing how your dazed eyes are still pinned to the ceiling as your chest rose and fell heavily, ever lost in the throes of an utter bliss.

Your head inclined in a small nod before you finally met his gaze with a lazy smile. A nearly silent chuckle slipped through your lips.

“Yeah. Still here.”

Leon lifted himself and over your body. His thumb reached for his own mouth to swipe at the smear of your arousal glistening on his kiss swollen lips. You linked an arm around his shoulders, letting the other sit comfortably down at your side, urging him closer to yourself. He met your lips with his, giving you a small kiss before parting once more. He fingered the side of your face as he looked down at you with a soft look in his eyes.

“You’re amazing.” The smile on his face was broad as he spoke, his thumb brushing over your cheek. 

You rolled your eyes with a ghost of a smile on your lips. 

“I mean it.” His eyebrows raised, giving you a stern nod. “You are amazing. I wish you could see yourself through my eyes.”

You sat a gentle hand against his cheek. “What are you doing to me, Kennedy?”

A cheeky, lopsided smile quirked the corner of his mouth as he leaned down and pressed the tip of his nose to yours. His fingers slipped from your face to your hair, brushing through it with care but that playful expression was ever persistent on his face.

“Right now? Probably blowing your mind.”

You rolled your eyes again but a chortle erupted in your throat, making Leon laugh with you in return. He traced his pinky finger over your lips, teasing them apart as his eyes became transfixed by them; his own mouth parted slightly as if in anticipation of another kiss. He looked back up in your eyes once more.

“I just want you so bad right now.” He whispered, his voice a low scratchy rasp, waking goosebumps down your spine. “I’m sorry. I know it’s a lot to ask for. I just—” 

You interrupted him with a kiss, holding the side of his neck to bring him even closer. His content sigh flitted against your mouth as he melted in your embrace. When you pulled away to look at him again, his bright blue eyes were half-closed and smoldering with lust. 

“I want you, too.” You smiled. 

Leon gave a quiet laugh, his cheeks bright with pink. “You do? You sure?”

You nodded and his smile widened even more. He began speaking something but the sudden spike of excitement in his voice made the words string together in a mess of incomprehensible words as he stood to his feet to rid himself of his clothes. You chuckled as you watched him discard the layers without even looking, an infectious grin carving his face in two. 

An amused smirk curved your lips as Leon climbed over you again. He blushed furiously upon noticing that devilish, teasing look in your eyes. He laughed breathlessly, running his nails over the side of his flushed cheek.

“Don’t you dare tease me about this.” 

You laughed more loudly. “I didn’t even say anything.”

He leaned down with a faint smile, his eyes flickering over your face as he squeezed your thighs tightly between his long fingers.

“I know that look, sweetheart. You don’t need words to drive me crazy.”

You raised an eyebrow, still smirking. A playfully stern look crossed his features, his fingers slowly reaching higher for the hem of your shirt, pulling it over your stomach.

“See? You’re doing it right now.” 

“Christ, Leon!” You exclaimed through another fit of laughter.

Leon’s gaze softened again, his thumbs brushing over your exposed ribs, his lips curled into a dreamy smile. “You have no idea how much I love it when you call me by my name.” 

A gentle smile turned your mouth as you drank him in – as if you were looking at him for the first time. You pressed your fingers gingerly against his face, tracing a borderless map across his smooth skin, brushing your fingertips over his lips, his nose, every line, every crevice. He smiled down at you as your touch wandered his features, making a face at you once your eyes met his again.

“I can’t believe my luck.” You whispered with an endeared smile. 

Leon nodded his head, a mischievous smirk sat in the corner of his mouth. “Yeah, me neither. I mean, let’s face it. I’m quite the catch.”

“Shut up.” You scolded gently, your voice roiling with a small chuckle. 

“Make me.” 

A wicked smile tugged at your lips as you buried your fingers in his hair and forced his lips upon yours. His small delicate moan of surprise stifled against your mouth before he gave into you with a small murmur, his fingers caressing your cheeks as he reciprocated the kiss. Then he giggled and leaned away just enough to speak again, his breath one with your own.

“Alright. Point taken.”

You gave an easy laugh, shaking your head, your fingers still threaded in his hair. Leon smiled down at you again, a much more gentle, sincere one that made your heartbeats stutter.

He slid his hand over your torso, slowly making his way up to your chest. Two of his fingers slipped beneath your sports bra, soothing over the curve of your breast before his nails grazed your nipple, drawing a soft gasp through your lips. 

A glint flashed in Leon’s eyes at the sound – a sweetly inquisitive light. His pupils were wide, like two pools of ink; but the mirth was laden there somewhere in those depths, leaping forth through the burning lust. It made his face soften once more as he peered up at you, a tender yet impish smile curling his lips. He moved his hand again, his touch picking up in confidence as he swiped his fingers over your nipple once more. 

Another small sigh of pleasure escaped your lips and all of a sudden, Leon was brimmed whole with the need to put his lips to your skin again. He pushed his mouth against your ribs, his tongue flickering out to claim a taste as he pressed an open-mouthed kiss to your skin. Then he remained there, his lips trailing a wet path up to the middle of your breasts before his fingers began peeling your sports bra back.

You let him unravel you even more, carefully prying the tight fabric away from your skin. He stared down at your exposed body with his mouth parted in awe. His tongue swiped over his lips before he surged forward again, driven by a need that he rendered to your breasts, taking each nipple with renewed fervor. 

Your chest arched into his touch, moaning breathlessly as he began moving towards your neck, his face practically burying itself in your skin with how hard he was pressing his mouth onto you. His kisses were much less forgiving now, fluttering from his lips with bruising intensity, as if each lustful stroke meant to strip your soul down more and more. 

Leon raised his mouth to your ear, his breath warm and uneven against your hair. “God, I need you,” he whispered hoarsely, his voice no longer bearing its previous hint of airiness, a rich beckoning of desire taking its place instead. “I need you so fucking bad.”

The breath knotted taut in your throat as you searched for words. You nodded fervently, moaning something incoherent before you rasped your agreement, weaving your fingers through his hair to push his face deeper against your neck, pulling a sharp breath from his lips. 

He thumbed your sides as he glanced down between your bodies, his temple pressed to your collarbone, he lifted his hips just enough to position his hard cock between your thighs. His tip pushed gently against your entrance and a soft groan escaped him as though he was already too sensitive. 

“Is this okay?” He paused to meet your eyes again; his face so close, his nose bumped against yours as he shifted his head. 

You nodded with a reassuring smile, coiling one arm around his shoulder as he squirmed ever so slightly, bringing him closer to yourself. A trembling breath flitted through his flushed lips once his hips thrust forward gingerly, the movement slow and cautious, yet his cock finally managed to slip through your sopping cunt.

Another heated groan rumbled in Leon’s throat once he burrowed himself deep inside you, the noise quickly morphing into a desperate, breathless moan. He had to stop for the briefest moment to gather himself, his breaths already short and labored. 

“Oh, my god,” he whined softly, readying himself to move. His face was nestled in your neck, his mouth pressed to you with every single breath flickering like a hot spark against your skin. “You feel amazing. You feel so amazing.” 

Your walls burned deliciously as they molded around his cock, the sensation rousing a satisfied noise from deep within your chest. His entire body was so incredibly warm and the weight of him pushing down onto you was nothing but pleasant; his skin was smooth beneath your gentle fingertips, a sheen of sweat glistening along his neck. He trembled like a leaf as though any moment, his threads were going to come undone.

When Leon began to move, he pushed into you with deliberate care; each thrust was slow but each sank deeply within you, drawing through your walls like a match engulfing in flames. He downed sharp gulps of breath, each exhale then leaving him in quivering wisps. He whimpered softly under your ear, his fingers pressing indents into your hips. He simply refused to pick up his speed. 

His words came rushing through his warm mouth. He kept murmuring incoherently under his breath, the sentences – if you could even hear a proper one, for that matter – twisted into high moans and shaky whimpers as soon as they toppled over his lips. He was a mess. It was pure evident that he was teetering on the brink already. And with how you kept clenching so tightly around him, his will to hold himself at bay was quickly fading.

“Oh, baby… oh, baby…” He kept chanting hoarsely in your ear, the words never finding a fruition, the sentences never fully realized. But even you could tell now: he was close.

You wound your legs around his waist, bringing him even closer to yourself; your fingers moved to his hair again, coiling tightly through the soft locks. Leon whined deliriously into your neck before he raised his mouth to press it clumsily upon yours, his breathless noises flitting against your tongue as it flicked coyly at his. 

The movement of his hips have become erratic, almost shaky, his pace only slightly faster now. His hands held your thighs in a vice grip, the skin beneath his fingertips beginning to protest the pressure but the ache only stoked the pleasure building to crescendo within your core.

“Fuck—I’m so close,” Leon groaned. “Oh, god, I can’t hold myself back anymore.” 

You pulled his face to yours again, your lips colliding roughly with his; and you whispered through the kiss, “go on then. Cum for me, baby.” To which he shook his head vigorously.

“No, no. I want you to cum with me. Please.”

He slowed his speed without waiting for your objection, returning to plowing deep thrusts inside you instead. He grunted with every effort, sweat rolling down the side of his face. You could see this was taking more out of him than he let on. He scrunched up his face, his teeth sinking into his lip. He was just so close. And it was taking every shred of will within him to not just empty his load inside you right then and there. 

“Come on, baby. What are you doing?” A soft frown curled your brows. “I want you to cum.”

You glided your fingers over his back, caressing the skin along his spine. You cooed a string of encouragements to him but he continued to shake his head at you, his body practically vibrating against yours now. You held his face, forcing him to meet your gaze. His eyes were half-lidded and shiny, his breaths leaving him in short rapid bursts.

“Leon—listen to me. You’re gonna be good for me and cum. Alright?” He didn’t respond immediately and the small frown on your face turned into a stern raise of a brow. “Are you gonna be good?” 

Leon gave a resigned whine and nodded his head at last. “Fine. Okay. Fine. I’ll be good.” He sucked in a quick breath and finally, he upped his speed once more. “I’ll be good for you. Fuck.”

“That’s it, sweetheart. I want you to let yourself go for me.”

He nodded eagerly again, his lips, once more, seeking refuge against the soft skin of your neck. He bade your ears whimper upon whimper – those sweet delicate sounds that tickled your senses, growing more and more pronounced the closer he crept on the edge. He continued to shake and you had to wonder if he was still fighting against his own body. 

“You can go faster than that. Come on. I know you can do it.” 

A groan escaped from somewhere steep in his throat and now you knew, the last of his will had finally ebbed. He began fucking into you with much less reverence, the small cot beginning to squeak beneath the both of your weights. You arched your neck as a sudden tide of pleasure broke over your body, your mouth parting for a soft moan to flee. 

“Yeah, keep going like that. You’re doing so good.”

In response to your words, another breathless whine rushed through Leon’s teeth as he kissed along your throat, his hands rising to your sides and gripping you tightly against himself. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck—I’m so close again.” He moaned into your skin, his voice small and high-pitched, nearly breaking as it bounced lazily over those few words.

“I know, baby. I know. Don’t stop now. Just keep going.”

Leon groaned softly beneath your ear. His hips snapped against yours in a few short successions before his body grew suddenly still upon yours. A choked whimper rolled off his tongue, a desperate attempt to muffle himself as he prodded his face deeper into your neck again. His warm cum gushed through your folds, burying the seed within you as he continue to remain between your legs like that.

His breaths flickered sharp and heavy against your skin as he slowly came down, his grip over your body loosening ever so slightly. Once that blissful haze dissipated, his lips began tracing your neck again; but this time, the kisses were much softer, bearing a sated gentleness that made your heart swell with warmth. 

“I’m sorry,” you heard him mumble, his face refusing to lift from the crook of your shoulder. Then he finally leaned away to meet your eyes; his cheeks sweetly red, an adorable crooked grin curling the corner of his mouth. “I don’t know what came over me.”

You chuckled, your fingers dancing coyly on the back of his neck, toying with the silky wisps of hair plastered to his damp skin. 

“It’s alright, sweetheart,” you reassured him but then, a wicked smirk grew across your lips. “You’re way too cute though.”

He rolled his eyes, scoffing softly, with that ever persistent smile still adorning his face. You snickered when his blush deepened, spreading all the way to his ears; and he gave a loud embarrassed groan, hiding his face against his own arm. 

“Stop it,” he whined. 

Your laughter grew in volume as you reached for his chin, holding it gently between two fingers before you turned his face towards yours again. His eyes were glassy and bright, a translucent shade as they peered down into yours with a lingering hint of sheepishness. 

“You’re so fucking cute,” you repeated, your voice a low growl through gritted teeth as if your heart couldn’t contain all the fondness it bore for your rookie.

Leon shook his head slowly, a small giggle bursting from his lips. His eyes were twinkling when he looked at you again, his lips giving into a doting smile. 

“You’re unbelievable.”

You gave another chuckle in response before he rest his head down against your chest. He took in a deep content breath, his fingers falling to your waist to begin trailing aimlessly over the skin. Your heart thumped slowly beneath his ear and he couldn’t help the smile that overcame his lips. 

“Can we stay like this for a while?” He asked, his eyes slowly falling close, his voice barely a mumbled whisper. “This is… nice.”

“Of course.” You smiled when he gave you a short hum in return and you looked down at him, noticing the calm and the sweet innocence which had now replaced everything else on his face. You ran your fingers along his neck again. “You didn’t even hear me, did you?”

He was already fast asleep.  

Something loud stirred Leon from his sleep; an obnoxious wailing of a siren that startled him awake. It took him a moment to gather his surroundings, finding himself still naked from the night before, tangled in your thin white sheets. He blinked drowsily and frowned at the realization of your absence and then panic began to set in his stomach.

“Shit, shit, shit!”

He nearly staggered to the floor in his haste to get out of the cot, clumsily reaching for his clothes that were scattered around the small room. His breaths were already short and labored as he got dressed and rushed out into the hallway, grimacing once the blaring noise embraced him whole.

The only thought on his mind was to find you.

He took off in the direction of the mess hall, his eyes widening in surprise when a group of armed soldiers hurried past him, bellowing demands over the shrieking noise. This wasn’t just a regular drill, Leon quickly realized, his cheeks tingling from the cold wash of dread. He caught up to the commanding officer whose face was red with sweat and distorted into a scowl.

“Kennedy! The hell are you doing here?” He yelled gruffly.

“What is going on?”

Leon flinched as the loud echo of gunshots rang out through the space, instinctively grasping his head between his hands. A light tremor broke over his body, his heart racing at the very possibility of something truly horrifying.

“We’re on lockdown. Get yourself to the hangar. NOW.”

He nodded fervently in response and began running again, finding another group of soldiers who were headed in the same direction and followed them out to the warm air of the early morning. The dawn was slowly breaking in the distant horizon as he made it to the hangar.

It was easy to make out your frantic voice above the agitated chatter in the room. You were yelling about something but this time, your anger was turned towards another high ranking soldier. He was a much older man. Someone he could tell to be your superior. However, that didn’t stop you from leaning close to his face to scream at him.

“Corporal, with all due respect, that’s the worst choice in this situation.” Leon heard you spit angrily as he stopped in the front of the hangar, standing just ahead of the rest of the crowd of soldiers. “We can’t use the recruits as fucking bait.”

The older soldier straightened his back, his chest puffed out, leaning forward in your space in return to your defiance; a snarl was set deep in his features, his tall domineering stature doing very little to quell your confidence. You didn’t back down. Not even slightly. You held his gaze with as much fortitude even though you had to tip your head back to keep glaring at him.

“We need all hands on deck, (L/N). My word is final. Hand out the damn guns!”

Leon walked closer to you as Corporal distanced himself. He put a careful hand on your shoulder, his heart skipping a beat when you flinched in response to his touch. Your wide eyes met his immediately, a gentleness growing amidst the feral fury within them as soon as he offered you a small but strained smile.

“You’re okay, Lieutenant?” He asked softly, leaning closer to your shoulder. “What’s going on?”

He watched quietly as you heaved an exasperated sigh and knead your eyes before you turned fully to face him.

“Banshee broke out of her restraints at some point in the night. We’re trying to take her down but—”

Leon frowned, his grip tightening slightly on your shoulder, waiting patiently for you to explain but anxiety was threading deeply through his body like thorny vines, clutching painfully at his pounding heart. You sighed again and a speck of that previous anger returned to your voice once you started speaking again.

“But we dealt some fucking casualties already. Now somebody,” you sneered begrudgingly, throwing a sharp thumb over your shoulder at Corporal, “came up with the idea to dispatch the recruits.”

His pulse throbbed in his ears as he listened to you, a soft frown weighing on his features, trepidation sinking deep in the pit of his stomach. Eventually, he let his hand fall slowly back to his side and managed another pursed smile.

“I can do this—”

“NO!” Leon cringed at the unexpected raise of your voice. You grabbed his shoulder and peered deep into his face. You looked scared. More scared than he’d ever seen you. Your eyes were blown wide and your pupils were trembling; a thin veil of glassiness coated them, making them glisten, almost as if you were tearing up. “I cannot – I will not let you. You’ll stay here.That’s an order.”

He smiled again, much more kindly this time, a warm look in his eyes. He squeezed your hand on his shoulder with his reassuringly, before raising his fingers to touch your face.

“With all due respect, if we’re going to fight then we’re fighting together. Besides,” his lips curved into a warm smile, “I’m not letting you go out there without me.”

You shook your head in disbelief as you heard your own words thrown back at you, tears welling up in your eyes. Leon fought the urge to engulf you in his arms right then and there, his chest gripping with ache at the sight of your distraught face. His thumb began brushing over your cheek.

“I can handle this, I promise. Let me come with you. I feel safer that way.”

Your fists curled tightly as you averted your eyes, gritting your teeth. You were in war with yourself, caught in the crossfire of your heart and your mind – the urge to protect Leon and the sensibility of letting him take care of himself. At last, you let a sharp exhale through your nose and gave him a defeated yet determined glance, your head dipping in a small nod. Then you, albeit hesitantly, handed him a gun.

“Stick close to me. Am I clear?”

Leon smiled, letting the gun mold comfortably in his arms. “Yes, Miss.”

“Alright.” You turned your attention towards the room. “We do this as Corporal planned. Everyone, assume your positions.” You unsheathed your own pistol and cocked it with a dirty glare. “We’re taking down the mutant.”

A deafening silence surged through the hangar as recruits sought their assigned groups, their thudding heels against the ground the only noise tearing through the thick air of uneasiness. 

Leon stood closer to you, his skin crawling with goosebumps as a new wave of anxiety crashed over him. This was really happening. The only thing soothing his nerves was your mere presence beside him, filling him with a calming sense of security even as you stood with just one good arm to go into the battle with; the pistol sat in your palm as if it could belong to you alone.

You turned to him, your face grim as you addressed him once again. “It’s on sight, Kennedy. You see Banshee, you shoot. And you don’t aim at anything but her head. Understood?”

“Yes, Lieutenant.” He nodded curtly, donning a courageous look as he cocked his own weapon. 

“Good.” You turned to the crowd once more, yelling much more authoritatively this time when you spoke again, “we’re moving out!”

Everyone moved quietly. It was as though their feet were gliding upon air as the formation of the recruits hurried outside towards the base, the first rays of the morning light shedding a blanket of pale gold over the moving bunch. 

Leon trailed close behind you the entire way, watching you make gestures with your hand once near the building, ordering the formation to dispense and cover as much ground as possible. Then you turned over your shoulder to look at him as Corporal joined your side.

“We’re going in. Stay on guard.”

You nodded once at your superior and without hesitation, he kicked the double doors open. Your small group rushed inside, enfolded once again by the shrieking siren. Disembodied demands were hurled constantly, the words faint over the thunderous noise as you led the way inside. 

Gunshots reverberated through the halls, distant agonized screams bouncing off of the white walls. Mutilated bodies littered the once pristine tiled floors. The thick stench of blood was overbearing, its sight a constant nauseating presence. 

Leon was overwhelmed. His mind kept flashing back to Raccoon City, his thoughts racing with those tainted memories that were quickly riling him up. His grip began to shake on his gun, his heart practically hammering in his throat and all of a sudden, he froze. The sight of the pile of carcass through a corridor was enough to lock him up inside his own brain.

“LEON!” 

He heard the yell too late, only coming to when another shot was fired. He recoiled as the unexpected sound ripped through the fog of his thoughts, his eyes snapping to yours. You grabbed his arm and hauled him to a safe corner as bullets hailed down upon you.

“I’m sorry.” He mumbled, slowly gathering his bearings again.

His eyes searched you and a frown quickly formed at his brows. You slumped to the floor with a hand clutched tightly at your stomach; blood seeped through your fingers, spreading rapidly over your shirt like ink. You were shaking, panting, and your eyes were wide with panic.

“Hey, hey, hey!” Leon dropped to his knees beside you on the ground, his voice low but frantic as he took in the dire state you were in. “Stop, stop. Calm down, sweetheart. Please.”

He pressed his hands over your wound, trying his damndest to ignore your shallow erratic breaths, the awareness of what had happened dawning on him. His broad, terrified eyes staring at the gaping void in your stomach that continued to gush with blood. 

“Shhh… shhh… please, baby. Take a deep breath. It’s going to be okay. You—you’re going to be okay.” His eyes raised to yours, sweat beaded at his brow. He spoke in a hushed yell, “why the hell did you do that for?”

Your panting finally slowed when you tackled the initial bout of panic but your body continued to tremble. Leon chewed his lip as he watched you; your eyes were lidded. He could see the hard movement of your chest as you heaved every breath with difficulty. This didn’t look good. He struggled to shove down his mounting terror as he stared helplessly at you, his hands still covering your wound with pressure. Warm tears began stinging the corners of his vision.

“Leon…” You muttered weakly, reaching your bloody fingers to his face. “I’m so sorry. I…” You trailed off, never finishing that train of thought.

He leaned into your touch as your hand palmed his cheek, gritting his teeth and blinking back the downpour of tears.

“I’m – I’m dying, aren’t I?”

“Please stop talking.” He said hoarsely.

“It’s okay. I’m not scar—” You were caught off by a rattling cough, blood spitting through your lips. “I’m not scared of dying. I’m content. For once.”

Leon held your wrist and clutched your hand against his chest, his tears wetting his lashes, his nostrils pink and flaring.  

“Take care… alright? You’re my – you’re my favorite vice.”

Vices, vices. Of course. You were struggling to speak, to move, to breathe. He could see it. His heart sank when more blood trickled down your lip. He held the side of your face as your neck began to go limp, lifting your head and forcing you to meet his eyes again.

“Don’t you die on me. Please.”

You managed a small smile and gave him a weak nod of your head. “It’s gonna be okay.” A futile attempt to comfort him as you squeezed his hand with the last sliver of your strength.

His bloody fingers raked through your hair, unable to do anything else but watch the glimmer fade in your eyes. Once your grip over his hand was gone, he knew that you were, too. Yet, the revelation dropped like an anchor in his stomach. His hold tightened in your hair, moving your head from side to side as if he was trying to wake you from a deep sleep.

“(Y/N). Please, no!” His voice wavered as he spoke. “Oh. Oh, god…”

But he had no time to mourn; a hand soon found his shoulder and forced him back to his feet. His eyes broadened as he watched you get farther and farther away from him, his feet moving against his own will.

“Let’s go, rookie.” He heard Corporal whisper to him in a gentle tone – one unheard of him until then.

Leon’s eyes fleeted over the older man’s face. The wrinkles between his brows were drawn deeply, his lips pursed as if he was holding himself back from speaking anything more. But the heartbreak glistened in his dark eyes as he stared straight ahead, his hand still wrapped securely around his arm.

“We have to get her.”

“We will.” Corporal responded with a firm nod. “But first, we survive.”

And survive they did.

It was a few hours of sheer hell. Many were slain and, in the end, Banshee escaped after nearly wiping out the entire base. However, Leon stood among his remaining comrades outside in what was once the training field, taking in the ruin which has become of the base. Smoke wafted over the white roof of the building, uncoiling like a black serpentine, a taunting dance of defeat in the clear sky as the sun slowly set over the horizon.

Leon fell to his feet in exhaustion; and as he laid there on the dirt, staring at the fading skies overhead, the weight of reality finally crashed down over his head. So many great soldiers dead. So many lives felled. And you. He drew a deep, quivering breath.

You.

The last few months of training were an uneventful blur. The surviving recruits were moved to a different base and Leon felt utterly lost. For the first time in a while, he didn’t know what to do. It was as though he had survived Raccoon City all over again. But this time around, there was no you to help him navigate, to forget. Even if only briefly. 

Alas, he managed to finish those months that seemed to drag on end. He knew that was what you would’ve wanted from him; to live on – hence why you weren’t there anymore to see him graduate. But if that was all it took to help him through day after day, he was going to hold onto it like his lifeline.

After graduation, the first place Leon visited was that same city you had promised to go with him one day, to show him around the ruins and rubbles of what once pledged a great change to him. The same place that led him down a spiral instead, a cursed shadow now hanging over his head which only seemed to grow thicker and thicker.

He wasn’t going to miss it. Not this damn city. And certainly, not your absence. As he emerged slowly on the brink of Raccoon City, returning from his visit with one of his old commanding officers, he turned to look at the demolished skyline one last time as the first winter snow began to fall, the white beads glowing shyly against the vast darkness of the night. 

The wait was over now. He could finally go out there and leave all of this behind.

His warm sigh left him in a pale cloud as he slowly turned away and towards the flaring headlights of the military truck behind him. Without looking back, he walked to the car and slid into the backseat. He met the driver’s eyes through the rearview mirror and gave him a small nod.

“I’m ready to go.”

He leaned his elbow against the car door as the engine spurred to life, his eyes momentarily flickering to his side at the box of his belongings, that fresh and young pot of plant which was once yours sat atop. 

A faint smile shadowed over his lips as he picked the plant up with one hand and held it under the passing blur of streetlights that poured inside the vehicle. He stroked one of its leaves between two fingers, his smile turning downward as he sighed again. 

It’s gonna be okay, he thought solemnly to himself.

[daddyhausen]

• kinktober day six : forced orgasms — chuck taylor •

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{ masterlists } | { kinktober 2023 }

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{ commissions info } | { like me work? buy me a coffee — kofi — dxddyhxusen }

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{ summary } — a simple punishment wasn’t enough, he needed to break you, make sure that you’d never disobey him again

{ warnings } — 18 + { minors do not interact } cnc, fingering, face slapping, ropeplay, restraints, sex toys, multiple orgasms, dacryphilia daddy kink, sub!reader, forced orgasms, degradation, overstimulation, penetrative sex, vaginal sex, rough sex, unprotected sex, squirting, male + female orgasms vaginal creampie, internal cumshots

{ word count } — 1.4k

{ pairing } — fem!reader x chuck taylor

{ genre } — smut

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{ taglist } — @cosmoholic13 @thewrestlingbitch @omg-im-such-a-masochist @adamjf @wardlow @alexisquinnlee-bc @sammiejane22 @im-just-a-mississippi-girl @omegasluvbot @melissahausen @writtingrose @drummergrl1310 @unoficialy-married-to-ace-austin @bonehead-playz @cherrytheeredheadmamaclaymore @crowleysqueenofhell @romanreigns-supreme @janetreader @thenerdybaker523 @sunshinevirus @nicoleveno14 @rubyred1980 @elsteenerico @igncrxntripley @ripleyswhore @embermdk @thepalaceofmelanie @violetmacher @seeingstarks

{ beta readers } — @allelitesmut + @legit9thlunaticwarrior

{ comment if you want to be added to the taglist }

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you could not move, body bound to the bed with thick rope, tautly secured around your wrists

your legs bent at an angle, the rope wrapped around your thigh and shin, securing them in a spread, uncomfortable position

same with the ankles having been tightly bound, secured to the bedframe also

a vibrator positioned at your clit, currently buzzing at high speed

abusing your sensitive pearl as dustin looked over you with a faux concern

“don’t look at me like that” he remarked noticing the swell of tears forming in your eyes, pleading for him to show you mercy

how your cheeks flushed with arousal, a thin sheen of sweat gathered at your hairline

he did not care for your predicament, maybe you should have known better than to flaunt yourself so recklessly in front of the locker room then maybe he might have just spared you

your crime? wearing an outfit that was the slightest bit more scandalous than your usual ensemble

it was simple, enough to catch the eye of even the most nonchalant of men

a tight-fitting mini-skirt, leather of course, the fabric always accentuated your features so well

and a brassiere like halter top, the fabric wrapped around your waist, two large straps that crossed over your breasts with a cutout exposing the underside of the pillowy mounds

leaving very little to the imagination

“daddy…please…” you whimpered, body twitching against the harsh pulses of the vibrator

“what?” he paused, only emphasising his statement to come

“do you think i want to punish you princess? of course i don’t. but you need to learn your lesson”

“l-lesson?” you stammered. you had no idea what the lesson entailed but you sure knew it was one that aggravated him

dustin rolled his eyes, followed by a scoff as he smoothed down his beard, having let it grow out the slightest

“this body…” he gripped your knees in his large palms for emphasis, not even referring to your body as your own.

“it belongs to me. and the sooner you get that through your pretty little head i won’t have to punish you like this”

he poked your forehead between every word in the phrase of “pretty little head” to further instill the significance within your mind

he leaned down, increasing the speed of the vibrator by one- no two pulses.

your head instantly recoiled back into the sheets, a long drawn out moan left your lips, followed by desperate pants as the pleasure coursed through you.

“look at me” he grabbed your chin when he noticed your gaze began to faulter.

“look at me!” he repeated, free hand slowly starting to tease your dripping folds

“i. own. you.”

he kept his wording slow and deliberate.

as if having to explain to someone not of great intellect

he let his fingers dance against your soaked folds, dipping them in and out as he gathered your wetness on his fingertips

“i own this pretty pussy, sweetheart. i’m the only one who can fuck you so good it’ll leave you cock drunk for days. i’m the only one who can make you cum until you’re begging for me to end it-“

his monologue was cut off by a rush of pleasure leaving your belly

your juices coated his fingers, dripping from your void like the waterfalls of niagara

he merely scoffed with a devilish smirk

“that’s it?” he cockily questioned. “that’s all you got?”

his taunts rang true in your ears, that was indeed all you had.

your mind had been absent these past twenty minutes or so, having not even registered the sheer lack of magnitude your orgasm has created for him

“i know you got more than that in you” he added to the vibrators speed, turning it up to the maximum intensity

“daddy no-“

“daddy yes” he cut you off

“don’t be a greedy little whore, share some of that sweetness with daddy”

he dipped his fingers into your void, curling upwards in a sort of come-hither motion, all the while pumping the lanky digits in and out of you

your pussy clenched around his fingers, so desperate to please him

to apologise for your actions earlier in the day

you peered down, watching the way his fingers disappeared inside of you.

“don’t look down. look at me.” he reminded sternly

your gaze met his own again.

he stared intently through you, deep into your soul

his eyebrows knitted together in concentration as if he was trying to examine your thoughts

his mouth only moved to utter an insult or a soft groan due to the sizeable erection pressing up against the inside of his jeans

“i- i’m sorry daddy” you pleaded, desperate and on the verge of another orgasm

“sorry doesn't cut it, princess. you know what you did and you need to pay for it”

you threw your head back again, frustrated at the pleasurable assault on your cunt

it wasn’t the fact that he was ruining you with his fingers, the vibrator included

it was the fact you couldn’t touch him while doing so

you struggled against the ropes

twisting your wrists and tugging at the knots he’s created

“don’t struggle, it’ll only make them tighter” he spoke with an unusual monotone in his voice

his nonchalant demeanor made you feel unnerved

it was so unlike dustin

part of the reason why it turned you on so much

your cunt throbbed with pleasure, a sick squelching sound ringing through both your ears as you grew increasingly wetter with his movements

dustin increased his speed, finger pumping into you at rapid force as you spilled over

he freed his fingers from your void as your walls contracted around air, juices squirting from between your thighs

“oh shit-“ dustin remarked, cleaning his fingers by bringing them to his lips, haphazardly licking them clean

“see? much better this time, princess”

his praise held a mocking undertone to it as he turned off the vibrator

you sighed with relief, your clit far too overstimulated to continue taking any more abuse of that nature

“i still think you’ve got one more in you through”

your eyes winded, wanting him to repeat his sentence just to make sure you were not hearing things

his thumb gingerly drew circles against your clit

your body jolting back, clit too stimulated and sensitive to his touch

“n-no more daddy…please no more” you begged through tears

“oh princess…” he pouted, you thought that he would have had a shred of sympathy for you in that moment

“what good is your punishment if i didn’t force you to cum all over my cock?”

he stood up, unbuckling his belt letting his jeans fall to the floor with a thud

“i gotta fill that pussy up, make sure everyone knows; that you know, i own it”

his cock stood tall and proud against his stomach, tip

leaking pre-cum as you licked your lips in anticipation

he teased your folds, lightly slapping the tip against your overstimulated clit

you winced in pleasure, cunt shuttering at the touch

he gave you no time to catch your breath, even less time to collect your thought as he pushed deep into you

his thrusts violent and quick

in desperate need to get himself off

“god…don’t know how a whore like you has such a perfect little cunt”

he slapped your cheek playfully, fully emtoumbing himself in your warmth

“i’m a lucky man, aren’t i, princess?”

“y-yes daddy”

he pushed down on your knees, that spread of your legs caused your hips to angle up, gaining him further access to your cunt

he slammed into with vicious force, hell bent to retrieve at least one more orgasm from you

your cunt, so overstimulated, fucked beyond what you thought humanly possible, quivered around his size

so needy with your third, and hopefully final orgasm of the night

“f-feels so good daddy…your cock is so b-big!”

“i know” he remarked, his tone as self-absorbed as ever

“c’mon sweetheart i can feel it, why don’t you give daddy another one?”

you whimpered through clenched teeth, fingers gripping at air as you tried desperately to hold on

“fuck fuck fuck!!!” you chanted, feeling your release crashing through you

you screamed with pleasure, body convulsing with your orgasm

he was soon to follow, holding your hips still as he filled you to the brim without warning

cum leaking from beneath your thighs

“i hope you learned your lesson princess”

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[nadvs]

I’ve seen a bit of mixed opinions about how exactly Rafe would be in a relationship, some write him as just plain abusive and cruel while others characterize him as a alpha male hellbent on being the provider and very dominant instead of (mentally, emotionally) abusive. And because I love your characterization of Rafe and how you write him in relationships, I’m so curious to see what’s your take on him with a gf, canon and/or headcanon.

I also know that things like this are often up for interpretation when it comes to the writer and whatever their choice is for the creative direction they want to go in but still 😭. Like I’ve fell in love with Rafe being soft to and for his significant other and not downright abusing her.

aw thank you so so much 💘 i may have accidentally written another very long-winded character analysis…

so 100% like you said, every writer has the control to interpret him differently and they’re all valid - that’s part of the reason there are so many rafe fics that i adore. there are so so so many good approaches to his character

i can definitely see rafe being abusive and controlling. he carries the trauma and self-loathing that would make him behave like that. i mean lbr babygirl is a murderer and has physically harmed people 👀 so i can imagine him treating someone he’s supposed to love very poorly. i understand the angle that fic writers take that he doesn’t know how to show love or take love or even feel love because of who he is, so it makes him cruel and domineering - BUT i think he can be crass and violent and deranged due to nurture and not nature, which is why i think he has a side to him we don’t often see

he carries a tragic amount of trauma. he struggles with addiction. he feels remorse for his actions. he cries for help from his dad and gets told to toughen up. he fears losing control of his intrusive thoughts and that they’ll lead him to do things he shouldn’t do. he has terrible mental health. and it’s all from his upbringing and the way his father dismisses him and punishes him for having feelings. he wants to get better and he just needs someone to believe in him (see this edit that owns me) idk i like to think when rafe is given the opportunity to love, he can and he does :( that’s why i rly enjoy writing him as being a bit more tender

ngl i hate ward but he ATE when he said “the devil’s got you” lol because it’s rafe through and through. he’s not evil itself; evil finds him and he’s crap at fighting it

OK SORRY to actually answer your question about how i think rafe is as a boyfriend - it would feel like i’m diverting from canon too much if i wrote him as a total sweetheart. imo he’d have toxic traits like jealousy and possessiveness in a relationship. i can see him being controlling and overbearing and bossy and short-tempered, too. but i think in the snippets we’ve seen with him and sofia, he also can be playful and flirty and sweet and actually calm

i see him with an anxious attachment style - clingy, hypervigilant, jealous and deep down, always expecting for his fear that he’s not truly loved for who he is to come true. he is insecure as hell

i also think his love language is physical touch. i’m biased bc i write so much smut lmao but i think his favorite (and maybe at times, only) way to give and show love is through intimacy. and lowkey i think he would have a praise kink because he wants to be reminded of how much his girl loves him hehe

imo rafe is the type of character that can be soft - he just needs to feel safe to do so. he requires extra care and unconditional love. he needs to feel like no matter what he does, he’s special to his girl. i think there’s an inner child in him that needs to feel like he’s valued just the way he is and doesn’t have to prove anything to be loved

rafe does not like himself, let alone love himself. he literally tells himself, sobbing, in a quiet and vulnerable and solitary moment, that he sucks. his self-loathing makes him treat others very badly, but i think in the right setting with the right person, he wants to give and receive love. he just doesn’t always know how to do it

[theoihalioistuff]

Hey! Regarding your last post about Zeus facets, do you have any idea about how he was perceived in cults?

I think this is such an interesting topic! There's no easy answer considering how ubiquitous and widespread his cult was, but for a quick overview I really recommend Jennifer Larson's Ancient Greek Cults. It's far from a complete coverage (for that there's Farnell's psycopathic 5 volume effort The Cults of the Greek States, and even he falls short), but it's an amazing collection of the most significant, fundamental and peculiar cultic aspects of every major god. So for my answer I'm shall offer a shamelessly plagiarised deficient summary of her work.

The most familiar cults of Zeus are the large panhellenic sanctuaries of Nemea and Olympia, where the god was famously honored with athletic contest. This last cult, a meeting place for local chieftans at least since the 10th C. BC, had victors offer massive hecatombs at the center of the sanctuary: a walled precinct called the Altis (Sacred Grove) where a primitive altar stood, a great conical pile of molded sacrificial ashes. The sanctuary also boasted of having one of the Seven Wonders of the world, Zeus' colossal chryselephantine statue. Appart from the awe and majesty, "viewers received the impression of a calm and peaceful deity. According to Dio Chrysostom (Or. 12.51), “whoever is deeply burdened with pain in his soul, having borne much misfortune and grief in his life and never being able to attain sweet sleep, even this man, I believe, standing before this image, would forget all the terrible and harsh things which one must suffer in human life.”"

Earlier cults focus more on Zeus's aspects as a rustic rain deity. As "the" sky god he frequently dwells on the summit of the tallest mountains (Mt. Lykaon in Arkadia, the Oros of Aigina, Ida in Troy, Hymmetos in Attica, etc. until ultimately Olympos) where he was worshipped under titles such as Ombrios (of showers), Aphesios (releaser, in reference to the myth of Aiakos and the drought), Hyetios (of rain) and Ikmaios (of moisture). Rain-magics were common (such as sprinkling water from oak boughs), and he was curiously worshipped on Keos and Mt. Pelion in conjunction with Sirios (the scorching Dog-Star). Fleeces seem to have formed a common part of many of these rituals.

Second only to Artemis, Zeus also had some of the most sinister cults, where mythically humans became the sacrificial victims. In Thessaly, Athamas almost sacrificed his son to Zeus Laphystios (the Devourer), and further strange practices survived to Herodotos' days (Histories 7. 197). Similarly in honour of Zeus Lykaios (wolfish) a secret nocturnal sacrifice was held during which participants ate portions of a “mystery meat” from a tripod kettle, reputed to contain not only entrails of animals, but also a human victim. Several traditions speak of the later lycanthropy of the participats. Zeus always makes a show of refusing human sacrifice in myths, punishing Lykaon and having Herakles berate Athamas, but still rituals that outlived even the roman era paint a darker picture of the god (though there's no archaeological evidence of human sacrifice).

Zeus also dwellt in the cities. An amusing rite was held in Athens in honour of Zeus Polias (of the city), where after the ox had been sacrificed the priest who had committed the deed quickly run off, and the axe that was used was tried for murder. He could also be found as Zeus Boulaios (of the Council), Agorarios (of the Agora), Soter (Saviour) and Eleutherios (liberator), and Zeus Tropaios (of the Rout) was worshipped as the defender of cities in the form of an empty armor placed on a pole. He also resided in the home, where he could be found in shrines dedicated to Zeus Patroös (ancestor), Herkeios (of the Courtyard) or Ktesios (of possessions), this last one embodied in a wool-wreathed jar filled him "ambrosia", that acted as a charm to increase the household goods. In the sanctuary of Zeus Messapeus, near Sparta, other finds were eclipsed by the staggering number of crude clay figures with massive, erect phalloi; presumably votive offerings related to male fertility and fatherhood. He was also syncretised with Zeus Meilichios, a serpentine god of a chthonic nature that deserves a post of their own. His moral attributes where reflected when he was surnamed Hikesios (of Suppliants), Katharsios (of Purification), Xenios (of Strangers/Foreigners) and Exakester (of Making Amends), and as Zeus Horkios (of Oaths) he served as the ultimate witness.

Finally, he had fascinating rites in Crete, where he was said to be born and die every year, and his tomb was shown to visitors (I won't go into details because I'd be here till the cows come home), and he was as an Oracular deity in Dodona, his other major panhellenic sanctuary. His cult title there was Naios (flowing), and together with Dione (the female form of his own name) he delivered prophecies (different ways are given depending on the version or theory: speaking oak-trees, doves, dove-priestesses, ascetic male priests, wind-chimes, lead tablets, etc.). In such a capacity, and as lord of fate, Apollo and other oracular figures were conceived of as his mouthpieces.

Generally speaking, quoting Larson: "His cults typically reinforce traditional sources of authority and standards of behavior, whether in the family, the kinship group, or the city." Still, plenty of his cults where surrounded by an elemental and primitive air. He ranges from majestic and lawful to savage and wild, from rustic to urbanite and from straightforward to mystical. He's the pile of contradictions I love to see in my mythological figures.

[petz5]

You’re like the only account that I care about Ranma takes, thoughts on new Ranma anime?

Sorry for responding late but so far I really really like it!! I WAS nervous (and still sorta am) abt the pacing bc like..... How do you take 20 episodes (technically 21 but i didnt count the clip show) and make it 12... but so far it's done a good job of not cutting down anything significant enough to really hinder my enjoyment

I will say I am extremely frustrated w the state of the tv industry as a whole because as gorgeous as the remake is i DO like that the original was allowed to breathe. I know people go "but there was so much filler!!!" but i think its important to remember it was being made concurrently with the manga and you really HAVE to create filler if you catch up... but I also don't dislike filler episodes as a concept nor do i dislike the vast majority of the ranma ones or feel they're wildly ooc 🤷 i don't consider them "noncanon" (outside of the stupid ova where soun has illegitimate kids) i just think of them as events that occur between chapters. Sorry i didn't mean to go on a filler rant THE POINT IS I HATE THE 12 EP SEASON MODEL W ALL MY HEART. It works for short series and it would work okay for longer ones....if and only if there was a guarantee that it would get picked up for several more seasons

My fear is it'll either be a second incomplete anime or get the urusei yatsura allstars treatment of having the middle pretty much gutted just for the sake of being able to reach the end. I don't give a shit about seeing saffron if you aren't going to take the time to make akane's sacrifice really mean anything to the viewer. You know? Part of why it's such an effective gutpunch in the manga is because you're sort of in ranma's shoes- she has been there right from the beginning, you expect her to be present and involved, and you just assume she's always going to be there. When that's ripped away it definitely hurts to see how much it affects ranma, but it's also a loss for the viewer because, love her or hate her, you've spent SO many hours with this character by that point. I worry if you just.... take out huge chunks of the middle it won't have the same impact. I know it's a long series, but idk I kinda think if you don't spend the time then her death is more "oh no :( thats sad" in a way thats still real like mufasa or bambi's mom, but not the same as idk...... jack in titanic?

Also i'm torn on the line from akane in the second ep being changed where she's saying she doesn't want people thinking she's a pervert for being engaged to a girl to "i don't want people thinking i'm a perv who walks in on people when they're taking a bath" like.... obv i'm not mad they're trying to tone down the homophobia, and i don't have any faith a modern audience would understand that she has internalized homophobia she needs to work through- or that people in the 80s/90s were flat out saying aids was divine punishment so you probably didn't wanna advertise that you're lgbt... i totally understand the change and don't have a real problem w it but also i do think having to come to terms w the fact she's attracted to ranma regardless of the curse, if not (at least initially) BECAUSE of it, is a big part of her character development and i'm curious how an akane more relaxed from the start about being wlw is gonna feel

[leonardcohenofficial]

when i seriously engaged w dw i was a big ol rose girl (and so love her very deeply even still) but your recent answer so neatly crystallized here why martha/s3 was some of the (modern) show’s best AND worst writing. the fans were def unkind and racist bc she was Not Rose ™ and Black, but the show (and occasionally the doctor himself) literally also did the same thing. in better hands, the tenmartha emotional arc could have been an incredibly powerful exploration of the doctor’s capability for ‘human’ manipulation because of his more or less constant rolling thru a rotating cast of (usually young) beautiful creatures who often, at least somewhat, worship his alien inhumanity and he’ll outlive - made all the more powerful by martha recognizing it and Getting The Fuck Out tbh. like make no mistake i love the doctor but he can be so terrible about keeping companions at arms length while also clinging and never letting go of them

literally exactly precisely thissssss; the doctor is not (and never was) all good; he has messy deeply contradictory flaws that show up in both his broader sense of morality/what he considers right and wrong/what risks he chooses to take/what he's willing to sacrifice or put in harm's way in order to to have what he believes to be the moral high ground AND the way he interacts one on one with people ESPECIALLY his companions. i think so much of the tenmartha dynamic is genuinely really fascinating (and drives me mildly crazy) but so often when the doctor is manipulating martha, the narrative punishes her in a way that i think is neither due nor deserved. i say this not because i think that the doctor's "bad" behavior needs to be punished narratively in some sort of puritanical way—characters should be complicated and have issues that are interesting to look at in analysis—but martha as the person receiving all of that shit shouldn't have had to endure it for a full season seemingly without end. the fact that she got out really feels so important to me because very few other companions get that type of ending and the will-they-won't-they of it ends in a way that feels very decisive; martha traveled with the doctor and loved him deeply and realized she can and would be fine without him and when he wanted to cling on tighter she prioritized herself and left him. it's a choice that very few people who know the doctor on that level, having seen the very best and very worse of who he is and what he's capable of, get to make and i think that it's extremely significant that it's martha who's allowed to make that decision.

[kashilascorner]

The orientalism aspect in terms of Haydee isn't limited to her not being a "femme fatale", though. It's the issue that the writers even decided on this plot point in the first place with one of the only female characters who is "the other" in French society be the one to have a seduction plot in the first place, whereas Andrea and Edmond get to personally confront and fight the men who discarded them or betrayed them.

I think the issue is mainly a writing one because the writers prioritized Edmond in regards to Fernand, frankly. They made Fernand his "best friend" and needed some epic confrontation at the end for Edmond to have, but in doing so shifted the focus that Haydee as a character would have on Fernand, since she's the one who personally confronts him in the book, and instead decided on her focusing on Albert. That's really the main problem as a result bc it also makes her and Edmond's plan more petty than life-ruining for Fernand: exactly what does Haydee gain from breaking Albert's heart if Fernand is still an honorable member of the army and in society? Albert had nothing to do with her father's death, he was a kid. And it again makes Edmond very weird that he considers himself Haydee's guardian, in a sense, but then still agrees to a seduction plot in the first place.

It also feels like they switched up Edmond and Haydee's connections to Albert and Fernand, respectively. Albert in the book was way more offended and crushed over Edmond's connection to his father being put on trial because he considered him a trustworthy personal friend, and Haydee's moment in the trial is the most significant for her but also Fernand's trial as well. But the result is something that I don't think does much justice for Haydee in the film. They could've easily kept her trial moment with Fernand while also feeling conflicted over using Albert as a pawn in her plan. Not just as another pawn herself in Edmond's grand plan that thinks she may die because Edmond wouldn't stop after Andrea's death.

Anon, I will be frank with you and say I had not considered this point at all! You are right that in shifting the focus of her confrontation to Fernando from her to Edmond was wrong and, now that I think about it, a really weird choice. It takes away too much for her, and so does the romance. I can see now why the changes to Haydee sat so wrong with many, because you are absolutely right. It was not fair at all to take her shining moment from her just to give it to Edmond.

I would like to point out that (perhaps I misexplained) I definitely think the orientalism is there, to me it simply did not feel like adding more to it (as I have read some people say) because of what I explained in my original post. She's always, in book and movie, an outsider that is exoticized so I felt that the movie at least is a bit more explicit (in my opinion) on the pantomime aspect of her "oriental allure" because it had a clear target.

Going back to Fernando and Edmond, as I pointed out in the original post I do like that they begin as friends because it adds a certain weight to the treason, but you are absolutely right that the price is that big confrontation between them and that's at the cost of Haydée. The romance is also at her cost even if the movie does retain a liiiiittle bit of the Albert/Edmond confrontation.

And yes, it is weird that Edmond is using his "daughter" in a seduction plot, but to be fair he also uses Andrea in moderately similar way and in the book he also uses Haydée not as a romantic/erotic pawn but as an emotional one to Albert and well. In the book Edmond and Haydée do get together romantically in the end so that's even more weird if you ask me. As for the pettiness and punishing children for their parents actions sadly I do think it's on brand with the earlier Count of Monte Cristo in the book.

Overall anon, I see your points and I have to agree with you that Haydée wasn't utilized all that great in the movie, which makes me soften my stance from my original post and I also thank you for making me think more about how she lost so much of her plot to Edmond and for sharing your insights!

One day. one day we'll get a really really good Haydée that actually deals with the flaws of the original characterization of the book and is not terribly underutilized and/or reduced to a romantic plot. Justice for Haydée!

[dashielldeveron]

okay i just gotta talk about bnha's ending

and what i thought was gonna happen based on the way the narrative had been setting things up.

some light bnha meta. spoilers obviously.

i will preface with i am not concerned with ships. i would be fine with whatever, really, because ultimately, i am my favourite characters' girlfriend (and you are your fave's significant other, etc.). moving on.

1) the first major red flag for me, as a writer, was when we barely spent any time at all at shigaraki's childhood home with dark!deku. it signalled that midoriya wasn't going to fully understand what was going on with shigaraki and therefore lose some nuance/meaning to [what i thought was going to be] shigaraki's redemption. by only having the audience understand shig's tragedy but not midoriya, midoriya is not making a fully informed decision and therefore his choices weigh a bit less.

1a) additionally, with dark!deku, it sets us up to have a thorough examination of shig/deku mirroring each other. doesn't really happen. and midoriya's getting his arms back within one chapter takes away from the overarching motif of taking someone's hand to finally accept help. like captain kirk once said, the three most beautiful words in the universe are "please help me." this could've been a chance for deku to ask for help from shig or the vestiges and further blur the line between villains and heroes.

2) when nana shimura holds shigaraki--this is probably the most confusing narrative decision from my perspective, because i figured we were about to go into OFA with both shig and deku, have some sort of glorious discussion over a fight about what a hero is and saving yourself and accepting help and friendship and stuff, but we just...don't. we don't go see all the vestiges with shigaraki. i thought that was what we were building up to, this ultimate scene with all the OFA users and shig all in the same place, accepting shig as someone who was used/abused and could still move on. i fully thought this would happen and that some unfamilar, bodily form of tenko would be spat out after the discussion, a tenko who's shoved off all shreds of AFO and can begin as solely himself.

instead we get that weird-as-fuck evaporation scene where shigaraki still wanted to fight. which is weird to me, because i haven't read shigaraki as wanting to fight for a long, long time. i've been reading him as wanting to rest.

3) i didn't want toga to die, but i could feel it coming bc "bury your gays" pervades pop media. but holy shit. not even on screen? the last scene seems to set uraraka and toga up to sacrifice each other for the other, and i figured they'd survive, though both severely injured. toga's death (and other villain deaths/putting away in a box) feels contradictory to the story's themes of saving people, that anyone can change to be anything they want. killing/punishing the villains seems to be saying that villains will always be villains, and even if they showed some remorse, they have to die, because they did bad stuff once.

4) touya is more of that "punishing bc he's a villain" stuff. uh. okay. narratively, he seems to be alive to show endeavor's regret. okay. a better way of showing this would be to have touya medically healing and have endeavor supporting him every step of the recuperation. (not that i would personally want this, bc i don't think endeavor's shown enough growth to do this.) and like. how it is now, with endeavor saying that no one has to talk to him, but he's gonna come visit touya and how the others are going to visit touya as well--it feels like they're arguing over who gets touya in the divorce lol (well, it would be lol, except they're dehumanising/objectifying touya again).

4a) why set up the soba eating with touya/shouto if we're not going to see it. why do that, hori. why would you

5) the timeskip to the hospital was jarring. we spend over a year in this one battle, and then we don't see it wrap up. we're left with questions about characters that could've been answered here, in this moment, in the transitional period of getting everyone medical help.

6) okay this is me being very selfish, but as someone with a focus in disability studies, i'd like to know more about everyone's recuperation. mostly, you'd FUCKING THINK that once they're at the hospital, they'd be able to get a whole-ass edgeshot out of bakugou. that's unfair to both of them. edgeshot was taking the place of medical equipment on the battlefield, so why not replace him with actual medical equipment now that bakugou is safe? we also spend a bit talking about bakugou's damaged arm, so why don't we see him working with it?

7) weird amount of focus on new students. i understand some focus, because setting up the new generation, and all, but since hero society appears to be exactly the same, it means significantly less to set them up to be better than the mistakes this generation made. since society/worldbuilding isn't changing in a major way, the audience desire is primarily to see what's happening with the characters we care about. so this feels unsatisfying.

8) also. attached to point 2 about shigaraki being redeemed. hero society should be changed. there should be a new status quo about what being a hero means and how the whole system works in light of this knowledge. shigaraki, touya, spinner, and toga should be alive and out there doing other stuff, showing that you can grow past what you've gone through. deku should still be out there doing "hero stuff" regardless of quirk/power, because of his character and fortitude.

why the hell is the ending message that anyone with power can be a hero instead of the obvious (and more moral) moral of anyone with courage/determination/"my body moved on its own" to help others, as deku did, can be a hero, regardless of birth or status. it was right there!!!! how was this sidestepped!!!

9) no bookend to spinner? no spinner? babe. i'm not even the greatest fan of spinner, and it feels like we left him unfinished.

10) scratch that. it all feels unfinished. rushed. did something happen to end it this way?

anyway. thanks for reading. i'm confused about the writing choices.

TL;DR: recent narrative decisions make no sense based on what the manga has set up for us, particularly the evaporation/death of shigaraki bc it contradicts the message that anyone can be a hero, regardless of your past, and that it's okay to ask for help.

[mithliya]

this is just my two cents but i think it’s true to say that men will often be more violent toward women if they grew up in an environment where that was more acceptable, and sometimes due to systemic or cultural reasons moc could be more likely to have grown up in those environments. that being said, if that’s true i feel like we should be focusing our efforts on the women that are ALSO in those environments and are more likely to be the target of their misogyny rather than acting like moc pose a more significant threat to white women than white men do. it’s insane to me that people are saying (with no evidence, from what i’ve seen) that moc are a greater danger to white women, and they’re concluding that white men are safer??? a man is a man, and while there are other factors that can impact the way a man sees women, that should be cause to support and protect woc rather than make it all about white women

i mostly agree with u tbh although i’d phrase it slightly differently. woc face high rates of rape & DV & are more likely to be murdered by men in our communities and it’s because violence against us is so normalised and bc our societies centre men so heavily. this isn’t just the case in the ~inferior muslim countries~ as some ppl pretend but rather an issue in minority communities in general (to varying degrees and in different ways). some argue it’s bc we have some sort of inferior culture.. but i think the effects of colonialism, exploitation, and racism has ensured that women of colour did not get the environments we needed to combat misogyny the same way white women did. this is a real problem that should be addressed but instead people often make it about white women and immigration and that’s where my problem is. instead of fighting to ensure the system holds men accountable for rape & abuse and therefore male abusers & rapists & murderers of every race will not have a system enabling their misogyny (the current actual issue in europe is that things like DV & rape are often unpunished and dismissed, when they aren’t then the punishment is so tame considering the crime), they instead reiterate far-right rhetoric about how the Real problem is immigrants and how poc are just more dangerous from inferior cultures or something. this then puts woc, who are especially vulnerable to abuse & rape from men in our communities, in a difficult position where we feel forced to choose between two different aspects of our reality, the aspect that faces racism & xenophobia or the aspect that faces misogyny. if we disagree with the racist rhetoric, we are told by racist white women that we agree with the misogyny that WE (woc) are overwhelmingly subjected to

i have not once seen the far-right rhetoric they use actually help woc in any way. they use the same arguments used to demonise us, and then expect us to agree with it. and if we don’t agree with it, they pretend like we’re saying it’s racist to criticise moc. they don’t realise moc often use their same type of rhetoric against us to keep us from criticising their misogyny too! and in the end, both sides isolate woc and ensure we cannot feel safe anywhere and that our struggles take a backseat to people more privileged to us’ concerns.

[jjkeremika]

Just like I dreamt it

description: eren sees him and mikasa fucking in the future and then it happens

pairing: eremika, eren x mikasa

warnings/disclaimers?: uh i called the titan armor material gemstone bc like... idk what its called; eren has the hot post-titan face markings; spanking; fingering; penetration

The cool breeze felt divine on the hot bare skin of their backs, blowing the sweaty droplets off and cooling the naked skin left behind. The wooden box rocked back and forth with each forceful shove of his hips, the wood splintering underneath his grip as he stared at where her hips anchored against the edge, as it trailed to where her spine curved into her clean shoulders, covered sporadically by silky strands of her dark hair.

Her song carried in the wind, straight to his ears and through his blood to his cock, a pleading melody begging for more, asking for harder and faster movements that risked breaking the box beneath her.

Eren jumped up from his spot on the makeshift bed, sweat dripping down his face and his chest heaving as his lungs ached to catch his breath.

He looked to his right and saw Armin fast asleep, curled up having taken both his and Eren's blanket. Eren shrugged—he could keep it—as he turned to his left, his heart rate speeding up and his cheeks turning bright red as he checked on the second sleeping soul.

He couldn’t help the physiological response: the vessel dilation, the heat rising in his chest, the pink blush on his cheeks, the butterflies in his stomach, the growing ache near his pelvis.

He felt the jolt of electricity when he brushed the messy strands from her face, exposing her pale expression and pink cheeks and soft lips and my god Eren needed to look away.

It was hard to sleep after that, even with his back to her body. The dream replayed in his mind like reruns of his favorite show in the late night, the content making his hand want to inch closer to provide painfully tempting relief.

The morning was rough. Eren didn’t end up sleeping at all. Kicking the fantasy out of his mind left the door wide open for residence, letting thought after thought tour the inside and torment him for hours.

The worst being the knowledge that lately, all of his dreams never stopped there. After a certain point, the topics of them changed and the dreams started happening, like eerie premonitions grounded in future truth. It crept him out, knowing the future before it happened, and attempts at changing the inevitable were futile. The outcome always remained the same, and his picturesque sleep descended into unpredictable cascades and guessing games.

His visions were never like this, though. They were never of unsavory or naughty actions or thoughts or feelings towards someone else. Mostly he deemed them insignificant happenstances, events he just so happened to witness before they occurred. Even with the slightest changes within his control, the end result always played out the same.

Did he tell anyone? No. Of course not. Hey, guys, I think I can see the future. Nothing significant, just things like Jean falling and Levi’s punishments and titan attacks and oh, right, me fucking Mikasa. Yeah, like that’ll happen.

He definitely couldn’t share that last one. And after Armin confronted him, he knew it wouldn’t be fair to tell Mikasa either. Armin told him she was into him and he was oblivious to it, but, that’s exactly the thing, he wasn’t oblivious to it at all. Sure, he acted like it, he tried really fucking hard to, so give him an award. He only had a limited number of years, he felt he couldn’t condemn her to a short paradise with him and an eternal hell without him. The thought of leaving her after having everything with her was tortuous, so he decided it was better to never have and haunt her at all.

Until this dream, that is. That was it. That was all it could be. It had to be. Some were visions and some were dreams. That had to be it. He just didn’t understand the power enough to decipher the difference yet.

Eren was still convincing himself of that when it was just the two of them voyaging into the forest to set up the final titan trap. He desperately ignored that they were surrounded by this very forest last night, with this very breeze giving him these same goosebumps, performing the very same task.

“Eren, are you okay?” Mikasa dragged him away from his thoughts as she forcibly took the heavy case from his arms. “It’s not good to zone out carrying heavy stuff like this. You’ll hurt yourself.”

She’d removed the weight before he could process the scene, having already turned around and moved the box to its place on the side when he came to. Eren forcibly lifted his widened eyes to the back of her head after they drifted to the tasteful curve between her ass and her spine. “I’m fine,” he responded argumentatively, defensively, taking a step forward and fighting the urge to look down at her, “stop acting like you’re stronger than me.”

Mikasa bit back the laugh, smiling at the irritated look on his face. “But I am stronger than you.” She turned around and brushed by him, heading for another wooden box. “And I never said it was safe for me to zone out either.”

She turned around instead of picking up the next box. “That’s why I’m not doing it,” she taunted, winking, leaning against its top edge. Eren ignored that he noticed how the wood compressed into her plushy ass just the same as last night, but his body didn’t, and he felt the hot blood flood to his extremities.

Eren’s hand clenched into a tight fist to distract himself. He closed his eyes; he could hear the next line rattling in his skull. Besides, this is a two person job and you’re half a person when you’re in your head.

Mikasa exhaled deeply, calmly, and stood away from the crate. She spoke like she was reading the script, like it was plastered on his face. “Besides, this is a two person job and you’re a half a person when you’re in your head.”

“Oh, the strongest can’t—” do it herself? He cut himself off. It was a dream. He can’t be influenced by a dream.

She crossed her arms over her chest, a motion identical to the one from last night. “What? Can’t do it herself?” she finished for him, raising her eyebrow curiously. Eren gulped, fighting the urge to watch how her breasts responded to the push of her arms, to see if that was the same too. “Honestly, Eren, it probably would be faster to do it myself.”

She turned around and started walking away, towards a different set of wooden crates. “Don’t treat me like I’m useless,” Eren barked, following behind her like a dog, the adrenaline and blood rush making it difficult to ignore the script already finishing in his head.

Eren grabbed her wrist and pulled, forcing her to spin around. He took a step forward, pushing her into the familiar wooden crate, and effectively used his body to block her from moving.

“Then make yourself useful,” she whispered quietly, the weakness in her volume darkly contrasting the strength of her tone, hitting him with the weight of the past and the future. He knew what happened next: she tried to push him away, he turned her around, he bent her over.

She stared intently at him as she pressed her hand flat to his chest. The hot breath they shared set his lungs on fire, and he held onto the air until he'd exhausted it of oxygen. He exhaled as she slowly pushed him away, eying him like she knew he'd deviated from destiny.

She mumbled something as she brushed by him, but he couldn't hear her over the blood pounding in his ears and the loud thudding in his chest.

"Eren," Mikasa started slowly, softly yet firmly, not even turning around to address him, "Let me go."

He twisted his body to face her, to say he wasn't even stopping her from leaving, when he noticed his ironclad grip on her wrist and a gemstone titan hand protruding from the ground tightly holding her other one.

He let go as she wriggled herself out of it, her heart beating faster at the surprise. Mikasa's eyes caught on the newly-formed, familiar markings around his eyes, and she felt the familiar tingle between her legs the past few times he had them.

The once pink, now bright red blush on his cheeks screamed his embarrassment, but she couldn't take her eyes off the marks, couldn't take her mind off the fact that he even tried to restrain her with that.

She gifted him with ignorance, with the option of pretending it never happened as she walked by him again back to the crates, wanting to finish soon so she could take a bath.

"I... Mikasa... I..." He turned around and chased after her, stumbling over a loose root exposed by all their movement. He fell into her from behind, his hands reaching out and landing against the crate edge to catch his fall, his crotch pushing against her ass as her hips colliding into the crate, her wrists breaking her fall against the top.

"Mikasa, I," he sighed breathlessly, resting his forehead against the nubs of her spine. He started chuckling, which took her by surprise. "I didn't mean to grab you like that." He nuzzled his cheek into her back. "Honestly I didn't know I..." And suddenly the script flashed in his mind. "...could do that."

It's okay. She shifted to move upright, pushed her hips back into his front. I can take it. He wondered if she felt the erection he'd been hiding.

"It's okay," she started, turning her torso to somewhat see him, pushing her ass even deeper into his crotch, "I can take it."

Eren pulled away slightly, angled himself differently, meanwhile Mikasa slowly started to peel herself away from the cart, only to be pushed right back into it with a swift and harsh smack to her ass. Eren knew if he smacked her again he'd hear her shout his name in some delightful mix of surprise and desire, and he was tired of pretending he didn't want to hear it.

"Eren!" Mikasa coyly moaned, embarrassed from how she was actually enjoying the repeated slaps.

"What?" he asked innocently as he placed three more smacks to each cheek, smiling at how she barely rocked her hips to extend the contact. "You can take it."

Eren smacked her again, watching the way her body followed the motion, listening to the noise echo in the empty woods. He lifted her shirt and started kissing the sensitive, forgotten skin on her back

He pressed his crotch against her to keep her from moving as he crept his hands to her pants, unbuttoning and pulling them to her knees.

His lips followed, pressing kiss after kiss from her knee to her thigh, then spanking her panty-clad ass twice before mouthing and lipping over the stinging skin, turning high-pitched squeaks into incoherent moans. He clawed and grabbed and licked and bit at her bum like he were wild and starving and she were the only nutritious source around.

He slicked one finger in her fluid and tucked it inside, smiling as he kissed her thigh when she moaned loudly and encouragingly. Eren dipped a second finger in and pressed in eagerly and exploratorily, pressing and stretching the spongy, velvety tissue.

Eren kissed up her spine underneath her shirt, dragging it up with him until enough buttons had popped and he could pull it over her head. He smirked when her back was bare beneath him and she was never wearing a bra, when he realized that dream was never a dream at all.

He pulled his own shirt off, listening to her morose sigh as he pulled his fingers away, and actually felt the cool breeze, already knew it would come in handy for the sweat they'd eventually perspire. Mikasa caught his attention; she was calling his name again, asking for his touch again.

He lowered his own pants to halfway down his thighs, quickly glancing over his shoulders even though he knew they'd continue uninterrupted. He fingered her briefly, stretching his fingers inside her before wiping the liquid against his own cock.

He slid inside her, carefully at first but impatiently pushed deeper, burying himself snugly inside her, both of them adjusting to the euphoric pressure against their stimulated genitalia. Eren kept one hand anchored on her hip and let the other run down the curve of her spine, stopping between her shoulder blades.

Mikasa was already moaning as he slowly pulled out, and Eren was biting the inside of his lip and wondering how he survived as long as he did in his vision. The view of the dip in her spine, of her bare ass with white and red hand-prints, of his cock slipping back inside her.

He closed his eyes and moaned deeply before rocking his hips in and out faster, picking up speed and strength with each harsh shove in and teasing pull out.

"Can you still take it for me, Mikasa?" he asked when her movements became sloppier, less coordinated. "C'mon, baby, take it like the good strong soldier you are. Like the good girl you've always been for me." The words spilled out of his mouth as he dropped his hands to the crate and thrusted his cock into her with a strength and a desire he couldn't name.

The cool breeze felt divine on his hot bare skin, evaporating the sweaty droplets and cooling the naked skin left behind. "Eren, harder, please, so much harder. I can take it, I promise, I swear," she pleaded, rocking her hips back with each of his thrusts, the obscene sound of skin against skin echoing off the trees and the nearby crates. "I'll be so, so good for you, I promise."

The wooden box rocked back and forth with each forceful shove of his hips, the wood splintering beneath his grip as he concentrated on where her hips scraped against the edge, where her spine curved into her clean shoulders and dark hair silky with sweat.

She arched her back a little more, presented her ass to his face a little more, and he smacked her once more before hovering over her, pressing his elbow into her back and shoving into her deeper than before, harder than before.

With one leg on the crate and her back held down, Eren pistoned his hips in and out until she was curling her toes and scraping into the box and spilling out high-pitched noises and moans and cries of his name. Her song carried in the wind, straight to his ears, into his blood and to his cock; a pleading melody begging for more, asking for harder and faster movements that risked breaking the box beneath them.

He grabbed a fistful of her hair and pulled on it as he shoved inside her one last time, switching to a fistful of her ass-cheek as he buried his cock deep inside her before cumming and collapsing on top of her, pressing weary kisses to her face and neck and finally kissing her lips.

"So, so good for me," Eren mumbled, staring at her with all the emotions he usually suppressed, the titan markings still faintly visible. He brushed a strand of hair from her eyes, smiling as it fell right back into place. "Just like I dreamt it."

[yuseirra]

This isn't totally about 162 so I'll just post this without a read more:

Here I am trying to make sense out of things that don't~ it's times like this I realize I have a brain because I can feel it running frantically on its own in the background like CPU to form an analogy to make it all work together.

It's really confusing...tbh,

By the way, WHY did Kamiki acknowledge Ai was just your normal, ordinary girl if it were to come to this? It's what's helped me build my understanding around this guy, is that idea still relevant? About Kamiki still loving Ai even while seeing her as a person?

At this point, I won't be surprised if the author writes they changed what they originally planned bc they saw the reactions that insisted Kamiki should be a villain, because what's been going on totally contradicts what he's said back there. He DIDN'T have to say it, no one expected the character to make such a statement but he did, was there a point in that? That was the line he's made that sold me the idea that him and Ai could have really been a match as well as Ai's video.

Yeah, it's probably that Kamiki broke down after Ai passed? Because he couldn't bear her presence fading away year after year after her death, so he couldn't accept that and wanted to become closer to her somehow(through this bizzare reasoning he's formed)

So, this motive of his isn't about her popularity or how well she's known to the public, it's more about the way he "feels" about her. Because... Yeah, killing someone who surpasses Ai doesn't really automatically lead to her suddenly being acknowledged more by the public. It's really hard to form that sort of connection, wouldn't it?; and why do something like that during when Ai's still alive? It would have taken place after she's gone away.

Would it really be that he changed only because she left him? That wouldn't be it, could it?; she had his kids!! He could have gone and met them! The fact that she's alive and he could meet her would BE proving her presence and significance. So I do insist on the idea that Hikaru started growing the way he is after Ai's passing.

It does also align with the song's vibes on how he can't bear to live without her and would sacrifice anything, to fill in what's missing and all that. The song also states that he's accepted this sort of fate he is, and that he "wants to get closer to the only Ai"

So yes, it's determined that Fatal is really indeed his song.

In that case though, how DOES doing what he does make him grow closer to her?; Is there something that's made him convinced it'd actually prove to do so and an idea that has some sort of solid base or reality, or is it just him having a vague feeling of twisted closeness towards Ai? Goodness, what's gotten into him?

In an analysis I wrote sometime back, I wrote this must be the way he felt after Ai's death:

He hasn’t been able to move on at all. It’s like he was unable to take a single step forward from the moment Ai died. He’s probably been living with that kind of deep sorrow and despair, thinking he deserves to suffer as punishment, and he might have intentionally kept those feelings alive. That’s why I believe this character would’ve tried to undo the situation. To him, it’s as if time hasn’t passed at all… He just couldn’t accept Ai’s death, so he’d wish, even at the cost of anything, that it hadn’t happened, and maybe he wished he were dead instead of her. Without Ai, as the lyrics say in the song, he can't go on living. He doesn’t even want to live. If there had been any hope of saving her, I think he would’ve clung to it. If such a hope didn't exist, it would’ve been tough for him to hold on to these emotions for so long.

He really could not move on at all, huh...

But would he be worth sympathizing with or deserve some sort of pity if he only results to this... He's the one Ai loves and risked so much for, I really, really wanted that to be the case. Now I just don't know. Ai should smack him back to his senses if it is that he's lost it;

I really should give up on the idea that he wanted to bring Ai back to life at this point (even if that's what he wanted, I guess he's already crossed the line)

But why have lyrics like that in Mephisto, I wonder;; that song really ISN'T Aqua either. It's about wishing the dead back.

Hm.. It could be that he really did want her back but since that's what's impossible, he wanted to become like her by taking lives that he deems as valuable as Ai's and that really was all there is to it.

It'd be.. Sad if the guy Ai loved only amounts to this much though, I can sense his desperation and how significant Ai was to him, she really WAS his everything, but... That's not someone Ai should wish to save. He really should rot with all those lives he's taken(if he's ACTUALLY done so)so I wonder.

This turn of events would make sense and I'd have accepted it in one go if only 153-154 did not exist, so I really have to wonder what the author wants to do with that... Man, he seems too far gone repair,

REALLY!! Maybe he's really possessed and needs to undergo Misogi you know?? Sarutahiko is THE symbol of misogi.. Involves salt and water -_-)

Mephisto and Fatal really turned out to be his song!! I believe so? Because Aqua is not about wanting to meet someone beyond death again?? He's not all about I can't bear to live without you, what should I use to fill in what's missing?

So is this all there is to those songs? They seem too strong to be left at this. I feel it should be displayed in a more obvious and significant way within the story if it's tied this strongly. I'd do that if I were to be a comic writer because it'd be a perfect opportunity to bring a catharsis, but again, who knows? Mhm, I'll just stand back and read a few more chapters.

Seriously why introduce the idea that he was as far as being "noble"? There is no point in that if he results to someone that can kill their own child for some ridiculous reason. And some parts of the lyrics always stood out so much for me... Is it really natural for your average person to say things like embaracing destiny or fallen-ness, reincarnation, forgotten who I lived as, etc? Become someone else? I wonder if there is point to hope, but I do really want some explanations regarding why those whole had to be mentioned.

Will then, till next chapter drops!

[c0rpseductor]

random fic thots. and also fatphobia thots. and sexuality thots. Lots of topics

morningstar is just kind of about a lot of stuff that’s important to me bc it’s lestat appeal fic, and one of the things i’m planning to unpack in it is just a bunch of shit about fatphobia and desirability and eating disorders and so on and so forth

so pfeil has disordered eating habits that mostly revolve around restriction, but is still fat. he’s often on that ‘one meal a day just enough food to kinda shakily maintain basic functioning’ grind. it’s not entirely about his body image, but of course like, he’s aware he’s fat and is self-conscious about it, so it’s still relevant.

obviously this is why we need chubby chaser emet. in this narrative. emet likes fat guys. he specifically finds pfeil’s fatness attractive. it also majorly concerns him that pfeil is like…quietly and almost incidentally starving himself in the way a lot of people with eating disorders do when they’re not actively restricting. And he and pfeil just kind of naturally settle into a fairly low stakes D/s thing.

what i’m saying is i think “Please eat and don’t die” may end up getting tied up in their sexual dynamic, and between that and the general focus i feel like i’ve given to both the Idea Of Fatness and what characters are eating day to day, i’ve been kind of worried that if and when things head there readers are going to be like “what is this weird gross feeder shit all about!! Fatphobic! fetishizing! blocked and reported!”

it’s mostly a dumb concern, i think it’d help if i got some sleep lol, but like, idk. what i really want to write here is a story about a very traumatized guy coming to reclaim the idea of having a body and a sexuality and part of that is necessarily going to have to deal with the fact that he’s fat and does not eat in order to punish himself. and it like. just fucking frustrates me that i feel like if you try to touch on that in a sexual context At All then suddenly everything you do and say is suspect and fetishistic and weird and evil and fatphobic. even if you’re fat. Please make that make sense.

like. idk. food is such an important part of daily life bc without it you fucking die. eating together is a very basic human social activity. im very of the dungeon meshi mindset with this. food is a major arbiter of daily rhythms and social bonds and the way characters interact with it says a lot about them and their relationships to themselves and others and denying oneself pleasure related to eating is like. psychologically bad for you. sharing food with other people is a gesture of intimacy and affection and care. you don’t break bread with bitches you hate. Do you see where i’m going with this.

i’ve thought about just not including that dynamic bc of the way people view fat people having basically Any sexuality that acknowledges being fat as Weird Predatory Degen Fetish Shit unless you’re self-flagellating about your weight, but like. I don’t think i want to do that actually. i think maybe i am saying something important about inhabiting one’s own body and also about loving a person who is very ill.

idk. i feel silly making a long defensive post about stuff i haven’t even written yet. i think it’s more kind of like, i just wanna be able to kind of sift through my thoughts, and i wanna be able to express frustration about The Whole Thing. i think it’s kind of fucked up that i don’t feel at all nervous talking about wanting hot guys to put cigarettes out on me or hit me in the face or whatever bc that’s typical kink but the minute im like “i am fat and recovering from atypical anorexia and i would like a hot guy to think it’s hot that i’m fat and encourage me to eat because he thinks that’s hot and not care if i gained weight recovering” it’s the scariest thing in the world bc there is a significant number of people out there that think this is inherently dehumanizing of fat people. and will be offended. or just disgusted. im not even into weight gain i literally just want to be encouraged not to starve myself But Sexy. idk bro it’s fucking nuts that people take issue with this

[alphaketoglutaricacid]

hater moment alert

Cannot stand the girl autism is more acceptable than boy autism bc masking take….i can abide by shitty takes on fictional shit but i cannot let shallow analysis of real issues slide. What the hell is boy autism and girl autism!!! The neat splitting of the complex process of socialization, the ways healthcare works as a system of control that often disregards symptoms of women, the complex way ppl punish the ways ppl diverge from gender roles esp for women, and how diverse of a disease autism is. I know this is a complicated discussion in healthcare bc how we view behaviors differently w gender but dare I say a big reason women (just like poc in america) are underdiagnosed is medical neglect LMAO.

This is like an actual pet peeve of mine. Theres so many stupid long held medical myths in the field like the symptoms of heart attacks are different for women vs men w no statistical bearing or were borne out of statistical malpractice (nuanced topic im not gonna fully get into abt how health data is analyzed). We (i hope) are moving away from this stupid biological determinism ohhh diseases present differently in different genders/races/whatevers bc of (biological differences/genetics/epigenetics and ooo this doesnt have anything to do w the long standing beliefs eugenics still has on how we view health ooooo bc eugenics was #cancelled and theres no troubling inheritances from it ) and acknowledging the reason why mortality differences exist are overwhelmingly bc of health inequities. I know behavioral issues are different. But they are often medicalized similarly and demographics are often homogenized when within groups ppls experiences are incredibly diverse. Anyways.

edit: this is not a dont trust the medical system go to a naturopath instead thing. Naturopaths are scammers. I generally think its a good thing medicine has moved to having evidence behind it, but our ways of collecting and executing it can be deeply flawed.

edit: its in bad form to make medical claims without sources and i dont aim to spread medical disinformation. Here are mine and you can draw your own conclusions:

the most commonly cited study on difference on presentation based on gender for heart attacks is the framingham heart study. A more recent cohort is the GRACE (the global reg of acute coronary events). U may look at these stats and go hey some of these proportions in initial disease presentation do look different between the sexes and even is statistically significant. Which is true. But it must be noted that atypical symptoms are common in both men and women (1/4 roughly vs 1/3) which means when assessing for a heart attack, you should be checking for atypical symptoms in both men and women because it occurs often. I dont believe these ratios are clinically actionable, tho some ppl disagree. Now the fact women get advanced heart treatments, get put on standard medications less often than men etc, I think thats much more actionable.

There is also something to be said abt what statistics measure. Which in population studies is: are the prevalence or outcomes of the disease different between these two populations? Which if you theoretically rounded up every man and every women in the US that has had a heart attack (which the populations in these studies are a proxy for) the answer would be: yes. But also if you rounded up everyone in the state of Minnesota vs everyone in the state of Montana, you would also have differences between manifestation of disease in these two states. The question is how large and why—the why is a question stats have a harder time elucidating.

Another question is what is the utility of dividing the groups to compare each other when there are infinite ways you could split groups up. You probably would not argue that there are inherent biological differences between people who live in Minnesota and people who live in Montana, but if you found enough difference, perhaps you could make an argument that there may be a difference in health infrastructure or policy thats driving that gap. But then youd have to further investigate. There is no approach in statistics where you can avoid the responsibility of interpretation. Now how does that get into how sex and or gender is traditionally interpreted in health studies. Well stay tuned to if i still feel like talking abt this. Bc this is complicated.