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belovedcloud · 8 months ago

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Such A Sweetheart

pairing: sugar daddy! leon kennedy x fem! reader

✎ synopsis: you need money quick, and what's a good way of getting quick money? a sugar daddy. you find a man but he treats you so good that maybe this may blossom into something other than a transactional relationship?

✎ notes: this is a longgggg one, i decided to try making a long one and writing this up at work every day for weeks was a struggle but i did it! if only sugar daddy leon was real :(

➤ WC: 10K

➤ CW: age gap, reader is in low 20's whilst leon is low 40's, talks about leon's alcohol struggles and practically his life, reader wears a dress, oral, fingering, dirty talk kinda??? not really, lots of kisses, maybe something more than a sugar daddy and sugar baby relationship, p in v, cumming on you, fluff at the end.

MINORS DNI!

Leon Scott Kennedy was a dirty man. That's how he saw himself. The masses of bioweapons he killed every mission tarnished his being. There was no escape for him. Nothing could save him from what he saw fit for his life. All he could ever be was tool for the government, someone who they could rely on each time to discard the tragedies of the world. They didn't care who they affected, as long as the government were safe that's all that mattered.

Leon knew that. He knew he wouldn't be able to leave. Leaving the job behind was a massive no. What if something happened? What if another incident like Raccoon City occurred?

He was bound to everything of horror. Gore, blood, death. He had seen it all, he had experienced it all. The killings of his superior, Jack Krauser alongside the dumpster of death that trailed beside Leon. It was his shadow. All he could do was bare with it. Nothing could save him, until you came around.

You needed money - just being able to live was costly and jobs were going left, right and centre. No matter what you did, you couldn't grab a job. It was out of your reach. You flooded every company with applications; they were bound to have known you by now. Despite that, an interview was never handed to you. Rent was coming up and what else could you do?

Find a sugar daddy? It was your only choice so... yeah. You were going to find a sugar daddy.

Doing some research and finding out that there were multiple sites to find one. Clicking on the top site, sugardaddykwiky.com, brought you to profiles of many men. Many older men. You weren't going to be picky, there was no time to pick and choose who you wanted.

Clicking on your profile, you start to upload pictures of yourself. No explicit ones, just ones of your face and a safe for work full body image of yourself. Furthermore, to try and attract more men you type a little description about you. This would entice for men right? Soon enough, your little question was answered. Yes. Men flooded your messages, nearly all of them sending the same message of 'Hey' with a pet name in front of it. Maybe you were going to be picky, they all weren't that attractive. Extremely plain and non-lovable.

Reminding yourself that this wasn't a dating site but a site of seeking money you required, your fingers continued to scroll until a request popped up at the top of the screen.

['LSKENNEDY' wants to chat!]

Leon was shitting himself. He didn't know why or how he was so nervous but it was linked to you. You looked so sweet and innocent, no explicit images nor anything sexual of the sort. It wasn't his type of thing to see tits shoved in his face or somebodies legs spread across the camera. You were different. It was as though you weren't just selling your body to get quick cash.

Scrolling down he read your interests. His eager eyes scanning through your description once then again, and again. Continuously reading before taking a glance at the few pictures he was granted to see of you. He drank in your face, such pretty features plastered on you made his heart flutter.

If you were to take him as your sugar daddy, he made a mental promise to himself that he would take you out on countless dates. Spoil you rotten until you couldn't take it anymore. All it came down to was luck.

Leon was lonely. He was a lonely man. The thought of you brought a sliver of solace into his body. Perhaps you could distract him from chaotic life he lived in. Leon craved love not lust. A deep groan left his lips as he knocked back another glass of whiskey. The malty liquid seeping into the lines of his lips, travelling down his throat. His phone was no longer bright, it was pitch black. A reminder of how his life was.

Before Raccoon City, Leon dreamt one day he would find a love that would course though his life. A deep affection that would last for many years. Decades even. The proposal of a family was always deep in Leon's mind when he was younger. Sure, it was stored away as he didn't find himself to be fit for family life at such a young age... But he knew he would want one some day.

That suggestion slowly dissipated when he gradually got older. He still kept some of his features, that being his dirty blonde hair or his baby blue eyes. But they were permanent. His youthful skin creased and aged overtime and a stern look was etched into face. Completely juxtaposing what he looked like 20 years ago. Yet, your face lingered in his mind as he downed another glass of whiskey.

His phone still remained off as he stared into the wall in front of him. To any normal person it would have been a blank chantry coloured wall. Leon saw it differently as depictions of you clouded his head and vision.

What the fuck was going on with him?

Was this a joke? He believed it was his mind playing tricks on him due to excessive amount of alcohol he consumed. Even after chugging a glass of water to try and sober himself, he still saw you. It annoyed him but not only annoyance filled him. A sense of peace too. The two feelings juxtaposed each other, as if they were fighting to see who would win.

Leon got up, trying to distract the inner conflict he faced. Closing the curtains and sitting in a room of absolute darkness. To no avail the image of you popped up. A growl scrapped his lips as he rubbed his face. His body slouched on the couch, rolling his head back as another noise vacated from him.

He had to do something.

Smacking down the couch he sat on with his calloused hand, he yearned to find his phone. The device jumped up slightly from the force of Leon's actions - soon enough he snatched it up. His thumbpad drummed the screen twice, the light penetrating his eyes as he staggered to find the power button.

"Fucking hell.." A squinted look appeared on his face whilst he scrolled the brightness down. Leon's dull eyes pried at his device, swiping up just to see you again. Fuck. He didn't delete the tab.

You looked gorgeous. An angel in his eyes. Even though you were young and in your low 20's. His mind processed the information once again. Should he feel ashamed? Disgusted? Was he at fault for wanting something romantic with you - even if you were 2 decades younger than him? Surely not, you were of legal age and willing put yourself on the website. The underlying feeling of guilt was questionable to him.

This wasn't wrong per se. It just felt like it.

His leg quivered slightly, his calve continuously smacking the bottom of his couch. Leon's eyes peered into the screen. Why was he so nervous? Get a grip, he thought to himself. A deep sigh left his lips as minutes passed - no response from you.

Your eyes flickered on his profile, an older man of course but... God was he handsome. His blue eyes called out to you, alluring you in to look at his other features. How was a man so beautiful? Early 40's nor did his description have anything sexual. It was quite basic - the perception of secrecy interweaved in it.

Nervously, the pads of your fingers moved subconsciously. Your body scrambled into your bed. The comfort of it didn't ease your heart as you clicked [Accept Request].

Leon's fingers kept refreshing the website to see if you had accepted his request. To his surprise and pleasure, you did. His heart pounded deeply within him, his shaky movements transferred himself into the chat. The miniature profile icon of your face made him go into awe. Your face was truly hypnotic. His lips pressed against the rim of his glass, shakily holding it to his lips to a point where the glass clattered against his teeth.

Leon decided the best option was to at least start the conversation off. What could he say? Perhaps the best option would to go down the basic route, however, by now you must have had multiple men just saying the same thing over and over again. His gaze focused on his phone, his eyes practically burning through the keyboard glazing over the letters trying to figure out a way to wow you.

The constant overthinking led him to not even figuring out a message to send you as your chat-box appeared on his mobile. Frowning to himself, he thought he was pathetic to a point where he couldn't even type to you. He wasn't this nervous in real life so what was going on now? In others eyes, he had charisma even when talking to a few women... But even a simple text message to you and he was about to piss himself.

Your fingers swiftly left a message, you even felt yourself getting nervous. The other chats you faced with different men usually led to the route of using your body to please them. Or they sent their half limped dick positioned in the middle of their palm trying to turn you on. It could be that this Leon Kennedy guy would contrast them. A twinge of hope stay put in your heart to hope so.

After all, he was hot.

You: hi! :)

Leon: Hey sweetheart, how are you?

It was a basic way to start of the conversation. Pretty pathetic in Leon's eyes but he had no idea on what else he could say. A shaky breath left his lips, adjusting himself on his couch trying to get cozy. The pads of his fingers tapping impatiently on the phone case. The inkling of worry still lingered within him as his mind reminded him of your age.

Instantly, a message came through on his behalf. Leon wasted no time to read over your message, he felt like a teenage boy again.

'For Christ sake... Keep it together.'

You: i'm alright, i saw that you aren't really like those other men on here. you're not like showing your dick in your profile or something.

A low laugh erupted from Leon's lips. You did see him different and honestly good. He wasn't one for going straight into the sexual stuff. Even at his age, early 40's and all, he still craved the affection you would receive in a normal relationship. He knew the love would be dependent on the money he sent you - it was better than no love at all.

Typing back with a small smile on his face, his legs uncontrollably stood him up. He walked over to his room, the light thud following him ominously. A dim light covered his figure as he sat down on the edge of his bed, hitting send.

Leon: We'd only get into that if you want to, but I prefer us to know each other a bit more. Don't you?

To say Leon was correct was an understatement, it was like a breath of fresh air. Whilst you wouldn't mind getting in his pants, for a man to not want sex sex sex was refreshing. Yes, it was the bare minimum. Did it make you way more interested though? Absolutely.

A giddy wave of happiness spread into your veins as you kicked your legs up and down. An actual conversation! You could even feel yourself becoming slightly turned on. A little wet patch forming in the middle of your panties. God.. Was this really happening now? Getting turned on by the bare minimum a man could offer?

You: yeah, i would honestly :) it's really refreshing to see someone wanting to talk

The conversation prolonged for an hour or two, both of you understanding the boundaries that Leon and you put place to make this agreement as comfortable as possible. Nonetheless, you were happy with how he was and Leon was ecstatic to know you better. Regardless of the cost that came with it.

He believed that a person like you deserved to spoilt rotten. Just the way you acted with such grace - you were heavenly. Someone who he was happy enough to show you the wonders that money could give you. Alongside his love, but Leon was nervous. He was nervous that you wouldn't understand why he would be gone for days at a time with no response. There was no way in hell he would be able to just tell you straight up that he worked for the DSO. Let alone that he killed B.O.W's.

He pushed his thoughts aside realizing he hadn't even told you how much he would pay you for your time with him. Texting a quick message, he chewed on his bottom lip. The dull ache of it pumping, giving it a faux heartbeat. Pressing send, he groaned into his pillow. The scent of soft linen contrasted the smell of alcohol that loitered on his bedside table. His backup bottle of whiskey awaiting for him to gulp it down like usual.

Instead he resisted, not relying on the alcohol to knock him out. Leon didn't want to drink himself to sleep like usual, he wanted to chat to you a little longer.

It was hard for him to get used to the slang and language you used, back in the 90's the way of communication was way different. After a few key points of explaining he got the meaning of it all. Reminiscing on what you both were talking about moments before - he read back his last message.

Leon: So how much money do you want for your time?

A very simple question for a very simple answer. Wrong. Not in your eyes anyways. You felt bad if you requested too much, you didn't even know how much he made nor how much he had currently. This in itself was the riskiest part of the deal. Would he think you were just a gold digger? Genuine fear paced around you, he wasn't a man who you just wanted to fuck to get money from. Perhaps you were being delusional but you seriously wanted to get to know him. Even perhaps have a relationship blossom between the both of you. Or was that too much to ask for?

Being a sugar baby wasn't toilsome. Whilst you would make him happy, he would reward you with gifts, money.. deep down you even wanted some pleasure. Plausibly, you began to think that Leon would think you were some brat. Even to a point where he'd believe you were some dumb bimbo cock slut who needed cash.

Shit. You needed to reply quick.

Leon was wondering to himself if he did something wrong. Was his question too straight-forward? Too dry? He was always told he wasn't the best at texting. That his texting habits seemed as though he was uninterested at any topic he would text about. He blinked continuously at the screen, this was his first time even trying to get a sugar baby. Were you no longer interested?

He needed your attention, after getting to know you over text he longed to understand more of you. What was it you really wanted? Cash or love? Was it that you were corroded with lust and needed to get dicked down or did you want something romantic? In all honestly both options together sounded like the perfect relationship to Leon. A couple who would love each other both ways, sexually and romantically. That's how a relationship works right? In his eyes anyways.

Leon's mind was clouded with random scenarios of you and him both. He wanted to try all of them out, some less naughty than others but all of them were good in his eyes. Shopping dates getting what you wanted or his head between your thighs giving you what you needed. He felt his jeans tighten around his crotch area. Fuck. Was he really getting off to the idea of just making you happy? Leon's hand travelled down to his bulge. A light squeeze only makes it harden more - can you blame him? You were so beautiful and all he wanted was to treat you right.

A heavy groan elicited out of Leon's throat, waiting for you to respond as he tried to calm himself down. He yearned for your answer. The bouncing of the 3 dots encased around a text bubble enabled Leon to let out a sigh of relief. Taking a deep breath, he eagerly watched for the message he needed.

You: i really don't mind, i don't want to seem greedy or anything so you can choose how much to give me! :)

Shit. How sweet could a girl be? Not only did you agree to be his sugar baby but you didn't mind how much he would pay you for your time? Leon's throat was dry as he took in another breath, trying to calm the bundle of nerves rising inside of his body. His fingers lightly tapped the glass screen in front of him, juxtaposing his thudding heart.

Being a government agent, despite all the trauma from his missions and the devastating events such as in Spain or in China. It gives a hefty sum of money. With the title of 'Government Agent' hung over him, he could afford to spend thousands on you. And he would.

Leon: Don't worry love, how about $1000 for our first meet up? Plus I'll get you whatever you want after a nice lunch. How does that sound?

$1000?! That was basically your rent done minus some utility bills. For one day? Not even a day, a few hours! That was more than what any job paid you for 2 weeks. Shuffling to lay comfortable in your bed, your fingers uncontrollably type a message to Leon showing your thanks to his generosity.

You: $1000?? you really don't have to give me that much but if you do then i really appreciate it! when are you next free?

A small smile appeared on Leon's lips as he read your text back, his body slightly shook from excitement as his eyes traced over your message. He was free most of the time... Well, when he wasn't fighting for his life that is. Leon's missions were quite sporadic at times, not allowing him to have a proper work schedule. In this situation, it was an annoying thing to explain - nonetheless, he wouldn't be able to tell you about it just yet.

His job was risky. Risky business that he didn't want to get you involved in.

Something always hung above Leon's head. Never once in his life after 1998 did he get any peace of mind. It was pure torture to live sometimes. A straight bullet in the head would have ended everything for him. Within Leon, there was a feeling of perseverance. He wasn't allowed to die. Who else could kill the bioweapons and destructive beings that tormented the planet? If only he didn't sign up to go to Raccoon City. That fateful night changed his whole perspective on life. A renewed thought process that could kill the normal human. He himself didn't understand how he could cope. The only answer to him was alcohol, day and night. Bottles stashed in places to feed into his intoxicated addiction.

It saved him; it killed him.

You could perhaps cure the chaos and wreck that occurred in his mind. He was fixated on you. Purely you. He would guide you through the sugar baby life, hand you anything you wanted. Just for your love. Whether or not it was real love, Leon didn't seem to mind. Well - not on the surface at least.

Alone in his apartment, slowly becoming uncomfortable with the solitude that laid next to him. He typed out a message, hoping to see you tomorrow. Next week at the latest. Leon needed a change from his mundane life. Only you could expedite a change within his character.

You were the answer.

Leon: I'm free tomorrow, I can pick you up at noon.

Trailing over the message, you couldn't wait to see him. The whole purpose of tonight was to find a sugar daddy, you got one but he seemed different. Separate from the other lustful men you met on this site. In fact he was different from any man you have ever met. The long hours of the night that you usually had was replaced with a conversation that uplifted your mood and your bank.

Nimble fingers tapped on the keyboard, the phone screen lighting up your face - highlighting the little upturned expression you had plastered on. Impatient to see Leon, you send a fast response back. Demonstrating your need to meet him.

You: okay! i'll see you then, goodnight <3

Feeling happy in your heart, it seemed as though he filled a little hole in your heart. As well as the dissipating view of constant stress you had thinking about your rent due for the month. Things finally started lifting up for you. Maybe now you wouldn't think that you were going to develop wrinkles and grey hairs at such an early age. Being a sugar baby didn't seem all that bad. Flourishing at such a young age without the worry of lack of money seemed good in your books. Granted that others may think lowly of you, who were you to care about someone else's opinion when you prosper in the generosity that Leon was going to bring to you.

A impending thought built within you. This was morally right... right? Taking a lonely mans money didn't really feel like the best idea especially when reading back on the conversation you realized he wasn't some sex freak. He just craved to love and be loved. Were you able to bring him that satisfaction?

A soft smile appeared on Leon's face as he read your message, tomorrow he would be able to meet you. See that pretty face that he's been thirsting to look at for the past few hours of chatting. His fingers constantly tapping on the mini picture next to your chats to zoom into your face. He couldn't get enough of you. His mind purely fixated on you and only you. Was this a curse or a blessing?

Once switching off his phone, he again sat in isolation. Dejection spread all over him as a deep sigh scraped his throat. Why was he always so alone? Even laying in bed for an hour never made it warm, his side cold and the empty space next to him was practically frozen. Leon was going through a rough patch in his life - this patch being 20 years was excessive but he honestly couldn't get out of it. Chained down to his own solitude and remoteness of his home was too much.

Too much for a singular man who just wanted a family of his own one day.

Laying in his own self loathing, Leon breaths slowly mellowed. Keeping himself calm, taking his mind off you slightly - attempting to sleep. To no avail, he still couldn't tranquil his racing heart. A shaky breath soon followed as he crumbled into the soft sheets he bought for himself. Rich and silky cloth immersed his silhouette, his hand over his chest. Leon could feel his heart. Pumping and pumping, the skittish irregular heart embodied his attitude to the situation at hand. Fluttering his eyelids shut, the scenarios of you and him started all over again. Just this time, they felt more real. You were within his reach as his mind continue to run with excitement, love and pure unadulterated desire.

That night, he didn't have a nightmare. No horror; no fear. There wasn't a dream per se, it was just a night of sleep.

Leon's face wasn't twisted with a frown, his lips were slightly parted. Slowly drying as he huffed out a few breaths in his sleep. Dirty blonde locks covering his eyes as a peaceful expression smothered him. The recurring night terrors of Raccoon City didn't appear tonight. Nightmarish prospects didn't shine through his soundless mind to haunt him. The zombies? Gone. The blood? Gone. All remained was a man who just deserved tranquility.

Tonight, he got what he was entitled to.

The blinding sun peeked through Leon's blinds, his body thanked him for the rest. No aching muscles like usual, he leisurely pried his eyes open, a quiet yawn eliciting out of his mouth. God, how late was it? Leon stretched his body whilst he adjusted himself to the light shining through, practically blinding him at first. His fingers tapped against the smooth wood nightstand as he searched for his phone wearily. Clasping his hand around the device he held it to his chest, switching it on to check the time. The bold numbers spoke to him, highlighting 09:30 AM.

Groaning to himself, he got up rubbing his eyes tiredly. Leon got a full nights rest. Unusual but needed a small smile laced his face as he realized what he had to do today. He was going to see you for the first time.

Swinging his legs out of bed, cracking a few places in his bed. A sigh of relief left his lips. Getting up was always the hardest part of his day but today it was the easiest knowing he was looking forward to something which wasn't work related. This time, it was to seek your love, to treat you to whatever you wanted - he was happy to do that. Overjoyed even.

For you it was no different, well except your rapid heartbeat when you realized that this was real. That you were going to see your sugar daddy. Could you even call him that right now? You had to ensure that you looked your greatest for today, it was the least you could do as this man was literally paying you for being there.

Doing your casual routine was normal as usual, your fingers just a little bit shaky from the nerves that coursed through your veins. Hindering your movements slightly as you felt yourself get jumpier by the second. Going through your closet, you choose something you don't really seem to wear often. A dress. A flowy one, he'd like that right? Taking a wild guess and praying to whoever is above you threw it on and fixed up your hair. Midway through, the mobile device on the counter buzzed, catching your attention.

Rinsing and drying your hands, you snatched the phone up and inspected the notification that stood out to you. It was him. You felt your body heating up, your eyes tracing the message.

Leon: I'm outside sweetheart, hope you sent me the right address. :)

Fuck. Outside already? You retract that statement as you swiped down to check the time. Oh. It was already noon. Checking yourself in the mirror, your legs rush downstairs as you put on a pair of heels. You had psych yourself up to even see him. Looking through the little peephole, you saw him.

He was just as handsome as he was online. Even more so in real life. Your heart was pounding, he could probably hear it across the door. Tremulously, your fingers wrapped around your door handle, slightly pushing it down to open the door. Fuck, you got this. It was only a date, and all you had to do was act normal. Normal and sweet. Leon picked you for a reason!

The moment he saw you, his breath hitched. He nearly choked with the air that stood in his throat, his eyes travelling down your figure with the dress that hugged your curves but still flowed with the slight current hitting your body. Leon couldn't believe it, seeing you was heaven right in front of him. A sense of desire permeated his body, longing to touch you. To make you his - he had to stay put. For his own sake.

"Wow, uh hi." A mumble left Leon's throat soon after he cleared it. Nervous couldn't even elucidate his very being after being blessed to even look at you. It wasn't only him with a stomach full of knots wondering if this day was going to turn south.

"Hey, you look... good?" You chuckled out awkwardly. Great start. Embarrassed within yourself, you try and think of something else to say but Leon's words cut through your thoughts. His voice is smooth and rich, like honey, a slight rasp laced in the tone which allures you in.

"Thank you sweetheart, you look beautiful." Too beautiful. His hands slightly twitched, a hunger in Leon wanting to ravish you as his eyes inadvertently trailed down your figure again. Heat bloomed in both of you, eyes practically fucking each other but who was going to act first?

Taking you to his car, Leon's hand glided over the passenger door handle, opening it up for you. A small smile plastered on his lips as his gravelly voice welcomed you in. The leather feel of the car seat hugged your body, adjusting yourself to strap yourself in. Leon soon entered after as he pulled the seatbelt over himself - turning on the ignition at the same time. A comfortable silence hung in the air as the vehicle took you to where Leon wanted to treat you. One hand on the wheel and the other clasping the gearshift to make the ride as smooth as possible.

"Do you want lunch first or do you want to go shopping?" His voice sliced through the tranquility that once lay around you both. Oh wow, so he was serious on treating you? Fiddling with your thumbs you wondered to yourself how you should answer him. Your stomach answered for you very quietly as you looked out the window.

"Lunch, if that's okay?" Your response back made Leon smile as he took a swift turn left, rolling into a small family owned diner. The aesthetically pleasing restaurant enticed you as he guided you inside. Opening the door for you and making the cliché comment 'Ladies first.' The place itself was cozy and warm, a welcoming aura embedded within it as you sat down at one of the booths. Leon, sat across from you, couldn't help but flicker his gaze on you every once in a while as you looked on the menu.

"Found anything you like?" He asked as he flipped through the menu himself, eyeing on the steak pictured in the booklet. His blue eyes soon bored into yours when you met his gaze. A soft smile resting on your face.

"Yeah, I think I know what I want." The softness of your voice was a melody to Leon. A voice that could calm him down even when he felt so nervous just seeing you. A channel of peace that he needed, a tune that could calm him even through the horrors that he faced.

Lunch went smoothly, the chatter amongst you two eased out into a blossoming relationship. Far better than just texting over two measly devices. Leon's gaze wondered over you as you spoke, completely in awe as he thanked himself for going on the website yesterday night. Your beauty surpassed all beings, inside and out you were gorgeous in his eyes. The interests you both shared in music tastes, hobbies and whatnot brought you both together. As if there was chemistry between you two, that idea that you already knew each other so well. You didn't just seem like a sugar baby in his eyes - you were someone who he sought love in. A person who Leon wanted to cherish in every way. The same concept lingered within you too, his presence calmed you down but comforted you in ways you didn't know were possible. He was your sugar daddy, yours.

Still, you and Leon wanted something more with each other. Desires that needed to be satiated soon.

Leon's card pinged as he paid for the meal, the waiter giving his thanks for the generous tip he left. Seeing him waltz off with the tray in his hand. Love filled your body watching Leon treat others so nicely. Fuck. You were falling fast. Too fast that it was scarily fun. His dirty blonde hair covering his eyes ever so slightly, his clean hands slotting the card back into his wallet. The slight veins protruding out, allowing your eyes to travel up his exposed forearms. Moles littered all over them alongside some arm hair.

His watch gleamed from the LED lights above you both, your eyes trailed all over him. This didn't go unnoticed as a little smirk plastered Leon's face. He was about to speak until the waiter came back.

"Here, it's on the house. Candy bags for both of you." The waiter grinned, placing two bags of candy in front of you. Candy? I mean, free candy is always nice. Thank you's left your mouth and Leon inspected the candy inside. Lollipops, hard candy, chewy... Before he looked up, he heard a wrapper rustle.

Your fingers tugged on the wrapper of the lollipop, undressing it for the ball of sugar that stood on a stick. His eyes gazed as you popped it in your mouth. A soft hum of approval muffled between the lollipop and your lips. Those soft plump lips that Leon kept looking at. A pang of jealousy flowed in his veins as he saw the way your tongue swirled the lollipop.

This was going to be a long day.

The ride to the mall was short, the same lollipop in your mouth as your tongue slowly was painted it's colour. You knew the effect you had on him, your head went crazy seeing his eyes glance at you often. No longer to your body, but to those pretty lips you had wrapped around your lollipop. Teasing him a bit more, a quick kitten lick around it made Leon suppress back a groan. Biting his lip hard and snapping his head the other way - pleading to whoever was up there to help him breathe a little.

Delving back into the bag, you grabbed two more lollipops as the mall was close. A small smirk thinning out your lips. Putting them into your purse, the drive came to a close. Leon shifted slightly to ease the stress in his pants. A bit too tight for his liking. Clicking the button, the seatbelt unraveled itself as he got out of his car. Walking over to the passenger side, opening the door up for you.

Taking your hand into his, he guided you out the vehicle, his other arm wrapping around your waist - his hand lightly squeezing it. The large establishment shadowed over you both whilst you walked towards it. Your heart pacing quickening with each step, Leon's hold on you was comforting yet enchanting. An immeasurable thirst building within you.

Shop after shop, Leon's hands started to become full of strings that held up the bags of clothing, makeup and whatnot you decided to get. No objections left him as you picked up something. You want it? You get it. Being treated to that sweet smile you gave him when he said 'yes' was all he could ever want. False. He needed your lips around his cock as he saw you continuously licking and sucking on your second lollipop of the day. That sugary rush secreting in your body, making you a little more hyper than usual.

Leon found himself mentally shouting at his thoughts. The grip on the strings that held the pretty clothes you got for yourself became tight as he scrutinized you. Unable to control himself, a huff left his lips as he continued to see you sucking on the sugary ball.

Fantasizing about you for so long led him to forget what you both were actually doing. Snapping back into reality, he looked away from you and saw you walk into a lingerie shop. Hold on. Wait, what the fuck? Lingerie shop. Leon's breath hitched as he walked in, seeing all the different mannequins brandish the laced items of clothing. He could picture you in the multitude of lingerie pieces that surrounded him - he honestly believed he was going insane. Your arm interlaced with his as you escorted him to the mass amount of fabric beautifully designed for your body.

A smug smile sketched itself on your face as you saw a set of lingerie, grabbing your attention immediately. Taking the lollipop out of your mouth, a string of saliva connecting you both together - you turn your head to Leon.

"What about this set?" A faux innocence entangled in your tone as your eyelashes flutter at him, the lollipop glistening under the light. Leon forced down a groan as he looked at you - seems like this first meeting was going to turn south at this point. His dick was basically throbbing imagining you in it. How pretty your tits would be, the way he would worship every curve on you.

Damn it. He couldn't think straight.

"Get it." A demanding tone elicited out of his throat, an almost growl as he saw your fingers pick at what cup size you were. The tips of your fingers rubbing against the material, weaving your way through it all. Grabbing what you needed, you looked at him - hunger was apparent in his eyes. He feasted on you, his eyes fucking you once again. Leon couldn't wait anymore, he led you to the till point. His fingers taking out a wad of cash, passing the notes over to the cashier. Not bothering to get his change, he ushered you out.

You could feel yourself getting wet again. What was this spell he had on you? He could just magically cast on you a haze of desire strictly for him. The grip of his hand on yours was tight as he paved the way towards his car. One hand held yours as the other carried the bundle of bags you accumulated in a few hours. Reaching his destination, you stood beside him as he situated the bags in the back of the vehicle, Leon's face in immense concentration as he imagined you in the set. The bulge in his pants becoming heavier and more apparent whilst he led you into the passenger seat. Although he was tense with endless longing for you, his hands were gentle as his fingers lingered on your body for a little while longer than usual. With you in the car, he slammed the car door shut, hurrying over to his side - entering in swiftly.

"You're a damn tease." Leon's voice was hoarse as he started the ignition, his head turned side to side as he reversed. Looking at you from the corner of his eye, he concentrated on that little smile you had on for him. That fucking lollipop still in your mouth. You were a minx.

"I don't know what you're talking about." A teasing tone left your throat, finishing the lollipop and licking your lips to get that sugar coating off. He couldn't help but groan at the sight. His hand slowly wandered off the gearshift and onto your thigh. You could feel a gentle squeezing sensation travel up to your heat. Leon's palm gradually nearing closer and closer - reminding you who was in control.

The sounds of gravel mushing against the wheels of the vehicle alerted you of the end of the journey. However the house in front of you was not one you knew. Leon's house stood proud as the exterior design bestowed a sensation of luxury. Parking the car, he turned his attention to you - looking at you with the same message of need and lust.

"Do me a favour sweetheart," he spoke gravelly, turning to grab a bag from the backseat. "Put this on for me will you?" The tips of your fingers grazed his whilst he passed you the bag. The lingerie combination awaiting to be clung to your body. A nimble nod left you as your throat felt dry. Compressing your thighs together to relieve yourself of the ache for a few seconds, you view Leon as he gets out of the car - going to open your side for you. A slight shake in your legs was visible when you walked towards the front door. The sound of keys jangling looped your ears as your eyes laid upon the inside of the building.

It was beautiful.

The tidiness of the place was outstanding as you walked in. Looking at the place was short-lived as Leon took you into the master bathroom. Your fingers weaved between the strings of the bag gradually opening it up and taking out the prized object. He gave your waist a squeeze and left you inside to change out of your outfit into the revealing piece he bought you.

Leon's heart was racing, his steps to his bedroom was heavy. Opening the door he was welcomed into the familiar room, the scent of freshness coming from his humidifier. Straightening out the sheets, closing the blinds and dimming the lights he palmed his erection slightly. Light pants vacated him, trying to get his thoughts together. You were doing things to him that he hadn't felt in a long time. Looking around the room to make sure everything was perfect, his thoughts were cut short hearing the creaking sound next to him.

There you stood. Your curves accentuated by the set, your bare skin captivating Leon. You felt your breath hitch, awaiting for him to say something. But actions spoke louder than words, his hands slowly caressing your sides.

"Beautiful..." A soft mumble came from him, eying you down with passion. His calloused hands brushing over the smoothness of your skin. This sight only for him. A view that nobody else was lucky enough to see. He reached out, his hand coming to rest on your hip, his fingers digging into you. Pulling you closer, his body pressed up against yours - you fit so snug against him. Leon bent down, his lips finding the sensitive skin of your neck as he steered you both to the bed. The covers hugging your body as you plopped down, his knee propped in-between both of your legs.

The pressure of your clothed clit against his knee elicited a moan out of you. Dripping onto the fabric of his jeans, creating a darker colour on them. The smudge of your essence spread quickly as his knee continued to slightly rub up and down. Whimpers could be heard from you whilst your body pleaded for more. More of him.

"Please..." A choked whisper came from you, pleading with him to give you more. To reward you more of his touch. Leon looked at you, already so needy for him. Such a pretty sight glancing down at his knee, your panties clinging onto your puffy pussy. His hand stroked your side as he peppered kisses on your neck. Leon's teeth nipping at your delicate flesh - making a deep mark on you.

"Patience love, I want to take my time with you." He mumbled into your neck, his voice vibrating against your skin - tickling you ever so slightly. How could he call you a tease when he was prolonging this for so long?

Your hips stuttered, trying to push yourself over the edge as you rode out his knee impatiently. Your slick made it easier for you to get the sensation you longed for. His wet kisses travelled down from your neck to your collarbone - sucking and nibbling to mark you as his. Pornographic moans drew out of your throat, nearly bringing Leon over the edge already. He couldn't get enough of you. It was like you were some succubus drawing him in with every sound that became trapped in the four walls that confided you both. Addictive.

Lifting himself off you slightly, he removed the straps off your body, slipping the material down slightly. Your tits bouncing slightly from the action. A twinge of embarrassment loomed over your face - your hands shying him away as you covered yourself up.

"Sweetheart, what are you doing?" His eyes flickered up to meet yours - seeing your face he knew damn well what you were thinking. "Don't cover yourself up, you're gorgeous..." His thumbs caressed both of your hands. Avoiding his gaze, which Leon didn't like, you stutter out a response.

"M'just nervous." Feeling self conscious within yourself, you expected Leon to get frustrated. Contradicting your thought process, he placed a tender kiss on your soft lips.

"It's okay to be nervous, do you wanna stop?" His fingers held your chin, pulling you to look at him. A slight shake of your head signaled you didn't want him to stop. His kiss made you feel warm. Safe. Hesitating slightly, you pulled your hands away - allowing him to see your upper chest fully.

"Thank you love," He fondled with your breasts, his fingers leisurely rubbing the nubs on them. "All this f'me... So fucking pretty." Without warning, his lips wrapped around one of your nipples. Swirling around the hard bud clingily. He practically drooled over your tits as he looked up - seeing your scrunched up face in pure bliss. The sensitivity of your nipples caused you to shiver slightly. A small smirk grew on his face as he continued his ministrations on your boobs. Appreciating them, kissing them, sucking them. He couldn't have enough.

The cold air hit your skin as he unlatched his lips, kissing down your stomach. He could cum just from doing this. His fingers hooked under the fabric, prying it off you until he took the top half off. He pinched your nipple whilst littering your body with his soft kisses. A gasp leaving your lips, your nipples hardening from the coldness. Leon moaned as he felt his hips buck subconsciously into the bed, he was so needy for you. His body dependent on yours - the heat radiating from your frame made his cock throb with an ache that needed to be sated.

But no. He needed to make you cum on his tongue. God. Leon has to taste your essence. A craving that he could attain now that he shifted you further up the mattress. Propping himself to dive into your slick cunt. Manicured nails feathered through the locks of his hair, a shudder leaving him as he glanced up at you one last time. Telepathically asking for your consent when he removed your soaked panties.

"Mhm..." The mumble was quiet, but he heard nonetheless. You knew he did as he licked the slit of your pussy, a growl like groan leaving him whilst he sunk his head back down the apex of your thighs.

Skillful movements of his tongue became unmistakable, flicking it up and down on your clit. Mixing it along with a few kisses and sucking motions - it brought tears to your eyes.

Your heart and mind craving more, juxtaposing your movements as you were out of control.

Trying to push him away - feeling your orgasm slowly build up. To no avail, Leon pressed his hands down, suppressing you to the quilt and him. Sandwiched in what was going to give you an enchanting release, your fingers bunched up his hair to pull on it. Giving you some sort of control in the situation. This granted you a moan from Leon, still persevering to make you cum.

The bridge of his nose rocking into your clit, multiple wet sounds coming out of his mouth. Your pussy gushing at his experience, Leon needed you to cum. Hearing your gasping moans whilst his mouth transferred itself to your clit made him double take if he even needed to fuck you to cum. Just pleasuring you was getting him off to a point where he thought he would cum in his boxers if you carried on spoiling him with the gratification of giving you oral.

"Leon, m'so close!" The whine fleeing out of your mouth did it for him. He lifted his mouth off you; meanwhile your head shot up no longer feeling his tongue anymore. Before you could protest, Leon spat on his fingers, coating them well in order to put them inside of you. Your walls tightened whilst he would piston them deep - curling them so good at your g-spot. Alongside with his mouth returning back to your bundle of nerves.

An otherworldly feeling rose within you as you sputtered out filthy moans. Leon's lips curled into a smile, feeling that you were about to cum on his fingers. Muffled since he was sandwiched between both of your thighs he spoke out, a sultry tone laced with it.

"Cum f'me baby, come on." Those words sent you over the edge. The crispiness of his voice echoed in your ears as you felt that impending orgasm finally release. Screaming his name, embedding chants of thanks, he rubbed soft circles on your clit. Slowing his movements to grant you a moment's peace allowing you to come down from your high. With his chin soaked, his fingers coated, he licked them clean whilst looking at your erotic blissed out expression.

"Such a good girl, a pretty one at that." He kissed your thigh, getting up from in between your legs. A deep kiss shared amongst the two of you, you were tasting yourself on his tongue. Leon's hands no longer clung on your skin as he removed his shirt.

You saw the scars that littered his body, a dark mark highlighted on his left shoulder. Some sort of bullet wound. To pry in this situation would be bad, it would just kill the mood. However, you could feel yourself getting hot once again when your eyes trailed over him again. Prominent abs shining through with his biceps putting you in an non existent chokehold. The light veins protruding through, showcasing his whole body. All that came from you was a breathy pant, you couldn't speak. Not when he was this handsome.

"You're staring sweetheart." He kissed your forehead, allowing you to snap out of your trance.

"Sorry..." A sheepish murmur left you. Still, you couldn't turn away as your eyes zoomed around his body once again. Fuck.

A chuckle brought you to look at his hands as they capably undid his belt. The leather shining snapping your attention to very clear bulge in his pants. Feeling proud of yourself for making him hard, you meet his gaze on you. His expression was unreadable... besides the fact his stare on you was longing. That's all you could read off him. Who was he? What did he do for a living?

All of those thoughts were lost as he took off his pants, his precum already seeped through his boxers making a distinguished mark. Without thinking, your hands replaced his. Pulling the boxers off him in a flash to see the flushed red tip. Leon let out a choked gasp, unaware of your movements. Your stare didn't help him regain his composure at all, a roseate colour burning on his cheeks.

"Don't look at it like that..." He moaned softly. It was pretty. Minor veins travelling up to the tip, showcasing off the large one that curved slightly. The base of him neatly trimmed - he was clean. Thank fuck.

It wasn't long before Leon positioned himself to your cunt. Practically drooling for him. His touch gentle as he rubbed your sides - easing you to be less nervous.

"You okay? We can stop if you want." He mellowly asked whilst brushing away a few stray hairs from your face. His fingers lingering on your cheek as he caressed it softly. Seeing you shake your head back at him with a sweet smile reminding him of your consent in the situation gave him a sense of comfort. You saw him as a person. Not a tool, not a man who killed abhorrent things. But a guy who could make you feel good.

Pushing into you was with ease. Your sloppy pussy taking him in so well that his hips sputtered slightly feeling you tighten around him. Leon couldn't resist slowly rocking his hips, craving more of this sensation you happily gave him.

"You can go faster, m'okay..." Reassurance was all Leon needed in this. Hearing your words and consent to fuck you good snapped something within him. His thighs slapping against yours slightly, creating a soft 'plap plap plap' made the scene more erotic then it was. This was pure filth.

His thrusts becoming deeper he threw his head back. You felt so good wrapped around his dick. Leon felt your nails scratch his sides, you tried to cling onto something as he pumped himself again and again. Needing to feel your skin on his lips, he pressed himself closer to you - his kisses gently fluttering on your neck. The tighter you squeezed the closer he was. Smothering your skin with marks that shown you were his. He made you his by forming his cock shape inside of you.

The base of his cock had a ring of cum forming around it. Displaying your last orgasm whilst he was soon to bring you to your next. His hips didn't stop the everlasting assault against yours, bucking into you helplessly. Leon hadn't felt this alive in ages. This horny mess he was encapsulated in brought him to his memories of when he was young. A young adult pumping with energy once again but this time he was older, more mature. Much more experienced. You were the lucky one to feel his experience. To feel him let go of himself in you.

He propped himself back up, the sheer sheet of sweat highlighting his abs in the dim light alongside the beads of sweat that covered his forehead. "Good fucking girl... take it." Dirty words left his lips and flowed into your ears. Words that make you shiver, blush and shake slightly in his grasp.

A growl escaped Leon when he felt your legs wrap around his hips. Fuck, did you want him to cum inside? His mind went crazy at the thought. Calloused hands gripped you tightly whilst he looked at you. So beautiful. You were gorgeous. The mewls that scratched your throat as you shot your eyes open when you felt like you could see stars. Only to meet Leon's gaze once again - just this time, you both were so close to the brink of release.

The way the scene held such love. A sugar baby and sugar daddy wouldn't have this with each other. Maybe this was different. Both of your foreheads clung to each other. Gasps leaving your mouth, groans leaving his. Passionate kisses being traded between you two as his thick cock stuffed your sobbing pussy full.

"Love, fuck, you have to unwrap... your legs." He managed to gasp out. Leon's dick was throbbing, aching for the sweet release he craved for. You were in a state of bliss, your body nearly becoming limp as you obeyed with his instruction. The bundle of nerves tingled. You were so close. So close to cumming around him. Leon could feel it. He could see it. Shakily, his thumb reached that precious, sensitive clit that longed to be rubbed. His ministrations on it brought the loudest of screams from you.

"Leon! I-I can't..." Your wails only made him dizzier. Dizzy from how fucking pretty you were for him.

"You can sweetheart, come on... cum on my cock. Be a, shit so tight... Be a good girl and cum f'me baby." Leon moaned out, he was about to fill you up if you weren't quick. Lucky enough, a bit more pressure on your clit caused you to shake uncontrollably. The same feeling as before washing over you - just a lot stronger. His eyes watched everything. How your body shook in his arms, the way your eyes rolled back as his name slipped from your tongue. Looking down, he could see your tits bounce whilst he carried on fucking you. Marks strewn all over you.

Leon's hips stuttered, he swiftly pulled out of you - cumming instantly on your pussy. The white, glossy substance coating your slit. Some spurts shot up and landed on your tummy. His head thrown back as he came down from his high, his endorphins going mental.

"Fuck..." He held himself up slightly, trying not to crush you with his body weight. A deep chuckle abandoning his throat as he saw you pant. Your fingers clutching onto his bicep whilst you tried to steady yourself.

Cute.

"You okay?" A deep voice knocked you out of your trance, looking at him dizzily. "Mm..." Your nods spoke louder than your mumble as you held onto him. His fingers latched onto a few tissues from the box on his bedside table. Wiping gently the mess he created on you. Mellow kisses on your stomach, tickling you a little.

He wanted something more. A relationship even. But a long term relationship would mean you would see the nightmares that taunted him. The crying, the hurt, the horror. He didn't want you to see that just yet. So this 'agreement', was enough for now. But everyone would know he was yours and you were his. He would make sure of it. Even if it meant marking you up or perhaps putting a placement ring on your finger before the real deal. Anything to make you happy, you were his happiness.

He guided you into the master bathroom again. Just for a different reason. Running the bath, it filled up rather quickly. Leon's hands wondering over your skin whilst massaging any parts he may have clutched onto a bit too tightly. Soft kisses on your face, lips and neck carried on. Not out of lust - it was love. His love for you met no limits.

The smile that would creep up his face when he heard you giggle made his heart flutter. That hole that was punctured so deep from his job was filled by your presence.

"Thank you..." Your voice was melodic. Bringing Leon to look at you with heart shaped eyes. A deeper kiss shared amongst the both of you whilst he got you both in the bath. The warm water soaking into your muscles, easing them up from the pleasure you both faced.

"Of course, anything for you." His words held such comfort that it could make you cry. Who knew a sugar daddy could bring you happiness in the romance department? Or maybe he was just separate from the others. You didn't care. All you cared about was him, and you wanted to know more about him. Trailing your eyes up to him, you see him remember something.

"Hm? What's up?" The inquiry you had made him chuckle. Confused, you prod him to give you an answer. His lips pressed against your forehead before he spoke.

"Is $2000 enough for tonight?"

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heavysighing-dreamyeyes · 5 months ago

Text

Prey

Slasher AU. Prefacing the fic with the knowledge that there's no batman in this au. I was thinking about Scream and those kinds of horror films when I wrote this, so, all the warnings that come with that.

CW for murder, some knife play, predator/prey dynamics, and sex under manipulation. Smut written with AFAB reader in mind. 18+ MDNI ~3.7k words

Gotham is known for its crime, known for its filth and grime. So when you started dating Jason Todd, you were floored by how good he was. Attentive, sweet, kind, and always so soft with you.

He's the antithesis of everything you're used to, constantly going against your more pessimistic expectations. Your boyfriend is a rare, treasured comfort in the city that's been nothing but rotten to you.

It helps that he's nothing but a gentle giant. Sure, he can scare off anyone looking for trouble while you're walking the street, but he's harmless. If he wasn't born and raised in crime alley, you'd assume he'd have no idea what to do with his size and strength.

He assures you he's more than capable of swinging the bat you keep by your bed if anyone ever broke in. You believe him, of course, but it doesn't completely soothe the knot of anxiety in your stomach. Not when Red Hood is stalking the streets.

It's a name that's been haunting Gotham for over half a year. He's become Gotham's most prolific serial killer in nearly no time at all. He has no pattern, no specific victim type. All the GCPD seems to know is that he targets 'the rot' and wears a distinctive, blood-red mask.

He scares you. It's not that you think that you're on his intended targets list, it's just– his victims, you knew an uneasy amount of them.

The creep at your work? Found dead with a lengthy, bloodstained list of previous convictions.

The offputting guy that liked to lurk at the coffee shop you love? Murdered with the names of his victims carved into his body.

The stranger in your apartment building who stared a little too much? Killed and left with his eyes plucked out in some parking lot.

Jason said it was just a coincidence, that there was no need to worry when it was just criminals and predators being targeted. He sounded so confident, so sure of this fact that it was easy to brush off the unsettling fear that seemed to travel to your spine every time you heard Red Hood's name.

But now? You wish you had taken the gut feeling more seriously.

You weren’t even supposed to be home. You were supposed to be at work. Safe. Calmed by the people around you. But your manager had double scheduled you and your coworker, and, in the moment, you had been more than happy to take the opportunity to spend more time with your boyfriend.

Jason was nowhere in sight when you had come home. It had been quiet, almost eerie. You assumed he was napping, getting some well-deserved rest. You knew how hard he works. You were almost giddy, at the thought of surprising him, at curling up in your soft, warm bed and surrounding yourself with your boyfriend's arms and scent.

You cracked open your bedroom door slowly, carefully, not wanting to disturb him. But it’s not the sight of your handsome, sleeping boyfriend you’re greeted with. It’s something far worse.

Your brain doesn’t quite make the connection between the imposing figure tugging on a pair of leather gloves and the serial killer prowling the streets at first. But as your gaze trails up the stranger to where his face should be, you recognize the mask that's been on the edge of your nightmares for months.

Red Hood. Red Hood is in your room, and he’s picking up a knife off your bed to shove it into a sheath on his hip. You have the chilling realization that your boyfriend is nowhere in sight. Panic starts to close your throat. He could be dead. Jason– your Jason– could be dead.

You think you make a noise at the thought. Or maybe you step back in horror. You’re not completely sure. But what you do know, is that you’ve done something to get him to notice your presence. Red Hood whips his head towards you. He breathes out your name. And you turn on your heel to run.

You dart through your apartment, vision tunneled with one purpose. Get away. You have to get to the door, have to get help, have to hope that your boyfriend is still clinging to life and that you’ll be fast enough to save him.

Your heart threatens to pound out of your chest, your hands feel clammy, and all you want to do is cry, but you have to run. You have to. He’s right behind you. You can hear his heavy boots hit the ground with every step, and it only serves to make skin grow cold and your spine tingle.

You throw open your front door, opening your mouth to scream and beg someone to come help.

You don’t get the chance. The door slams shut in front of you, your only hope for escape barricaded closed by a large hand pressing into the wood above your head. You try to yell, try to shriek and make a commotion, but leather presses harshly against your lips before you're able to make a sound.

It’s muscle memory, built on self-defense training Jason always insisted you practiced, that you’re able to elbow him in the gut and bite down on his hand. He grunts, shifting his hold on you. You find enough space to spin around and shove him. You think he steps back more at your audacity than at your strength.

It doesn’t matter why, all that matters is that it gives you an opportunity to sprint past him, to try to make it to the fire escape. He must find your attempt cute, because he huffs out a laugh as he lunges for your fleeing form.

You cry out as he tackles you to the ground, maneuvering you as you both fall. The impact of the ground is somewhat softened by his chest, but it dazes you enough that you don’t put up a strong fight when he flips you to your back.

Seeing him up close knocks the air from your lungs more than the fall did. His mask gives away no emotion, only his slightly labored breathing and body heat gives away that he’s even human. Even as terror sets itself into every fiber of your being, there’s a brief clarity in your panicked thoughts.

There’s no scent of blood on him. There’s a chance, there’s a hope, that Jason is okay. There’s a chance he wasn’t home when Red Hood broke in. There’s a chance he’s safe. And maybe, maybe Red Hood won’t hurt you. You’re not exactly good, but you’re not evil, not someone he would target.

The thought calms you enough that you start to struggle, if you could just survive until Jason gets here– the thought is cut short when something shiny catches your vision. In your frenzied state, you’d failed to notice Red Hood unsheathing his knife.

You freeze, and he lowers the tip of the knife to rest it at the base of your throat. He hasn't said anything since he caught you, hasn’t given you a hint of what he wants from you.

You wish he would, wish he would give you anything to latch onto. Tears threaten to prick your eyes as he settles his weight on your hips, hunching over as if to get a better look at your petrified face.

Your heart only beats fast when he starts to trail the knife down to catch the collar of your shirt. You can feel how sharp the blade is, how he would only need to press a little harder to make you bleed. The idea makes you whimper softly, unable to hide how vulnerable you are.

He catches the noise, head tilting like he finds it interesting, and he pulls the knife down your sternum until the fabric of your shirt starts to stretch and tear.

You choke on nothing, desperately grabbing at his wrist to try and stop him from ripping your shirt in two, “Wait– please,” you start to beg, anything to save yourself from this. He can’t– you can’t let him– not when you know Jason will be the one to find your body.

He shushes you, low and soothing, and even your best efforts doesn’t stop his steady hand from tracing a line down your body with the knife, “Don’t be scared, baby. I thought you liked it when I got rough?”

His voice. His voice. You know that voice. It chills you to the core, widens your eyes, and sends you spiraling to a fact you never once considered, “Jason?”

He laughs, the sound distorted by the mask and drags the knife back up your skin to rest over your heart, “I knew you’d get there. You’ve always been too smart for your own good.”

It’s not fear that makes your body shake anymore, but anger as you snap at him, “Are you kidding me? Is this some kind of stupid prank?”

“It's not a prank baby,” he says, so plain he may as well be talking about the weather, “I’m Red Hood.”

You blink, shocked to silence as your anger fades to unease. You can only imagine what he looks like right now. Eyes dark, face set with a mockery of a smile, and nothing like the Jason you know.

You swallow thickly, trying to reconcile the man you love, and the murderer bracing most of his weight on your body, “But– Jason– you wouldn’t– killing people– that’s not right,” you finish lamely.

The air seems to grow thick with tension at your stuttered words, and he raises the knife. You scream and squeeze your eyes shut as he brings it down without hesitation.

Pain doesn’t come, but a thunk by your ear does. You open your eyes and turn your head, the shining blade is embedded into the wood by your face, so close that your eyelashes nearly brush it when you blink.

The sight is enough to make tears fill your eyes, and any semblance of safety you felt was quickly ripped away by the glimmering knife.

Jason starts to shush you again, catching your chin gently with his gloved hands to turn your face back to him. “Hey, hey, it’s okay. I’m not gonna hurt ya. I would never. You just don’t understand yet. The people I kill- they aren’t really people, baby. They’re monsters, a cancer to the city. I’m making things better, helping.”

He sounds like he really believes that, and it makes you want to cry harder, “Baby,” he coos, “Don’t be scared. I’ve always kept you safe. How I do it? Well, it doesn’t really matter, does it? I’m not asking you to get your hands dirty.”

You flinch when he starts to wipe your tears, and he tuts, one hand leaving your face to lift his bright red mask to the top of his head in an attempt to calm you.

There’s no pretending it isn’t him. Every blemish you’ve come to memorize, every fleck in his eyes, the quirk of his eyebrow. It’s him. Jason is Red Hood, and Red Hood has you pinned to your apartment floor.

“Better,” he asks gently, leaning down to kiss away the tracks of tears on your cheeks. It only serves to scare you more. Your boyfriend, he seems nearly unrecognizable now.

“Please,” you beg again. You’re not sure what you’re asking for. For him to let you go? For him to tell you it’s all a sick joke? For him to stop killing?

He offers you none of these, only rambles idly as he presses kiss down to your jaw, to your throat, “C’mon, baby. I’ve always taken care of you, haven't I? This doesn’t change anything. I still love you. You’re still my partner, my everything. I’m just making things better for you, for everyone.”

His hands start to trace the bare skin of your sides, pushing aside your torn shirt, “Let me remind you how good we are, baby. It’ll make everything better.”

He punctuates his little speech with a roll of his hips, and it draws a gasp from your throat.

It’s so familiar, something you couldn’t help but crave from him. But it feels tainted now, almost wrong. You grab at his shoulders, half to push him away and half to find comfort in pulling him closer as raw panic lacing your features.

He grins at you, as if he can read your every thought and internal struggle. You open your mouth to protest, to remind him and yourself that this is wrong. That even if the people he kills are evil, vile, and twisted, that doesn’t make him right.

Jason doesn’t seem interested in hearing your arguments, though, and he ducks his head to capture your mouth in a passionate kiss.

He nips at your lips, traces your tongue with his, and leaves you panting for air when he finally pulls away. “There you go,” he praises, running his thumb over your spit-stained mouth, “No need to think so hard about it.”

Later, when you’re sticky with sweat and exhausted and laying on his chest, you’ll berate yourself for giving in.

But in the moment? He knows exactly what you like, knows exactly how to get your head to go foggy, and lose your inhibitions. He’s been in your bed for months, learned every little thing that makes you tick with frightening accuracy, and he uses every bit of that knowledge to convince you to give in.

He nips at your pulse, fingers tugging at the fabric of your pants. He’s heavy and warm on top of you, and his murmured praises and gentle touches are almost enough to distract you from the knife driven into the floor by your head.

You dig your nails into his shoulders and somewhere between him sucking a line of bruises to your chest and him hiking your thigh over his hip, what’s left of your clothes is thrown strewn and crumpled onto the floor.

The wood is cold against your back, but it’s the look in his eyes that makes you shiver. He’s completely dressed, even as he has you naked and exposed underneath him. And his gaze, his gaze is almost predatory as he devours the sight of you.

You don’t know how you never noticed it before, the way his eyes darken like he wants to eat you alive, like he wants to keep you soft and spread open for him forever.

It makes your throat tighten, nearly sends you back into a state of sick terror, but then he dips his head, and nips the shell of your ear, “You’re being so good for me, doll,” he praises, reverent and soft, “You just keep being sweet for me and everything will be okay."

Your breath hitches, and suddenly it's not fear that knots itself in your stomach, but a desire to be good. You want to be sweet for him, want his praise and adoration and approval, no matter what he’s done or what he's capable of.

Pride flickers over his face at the way your eyes seem to glaze over and he’s quick to undo his belt, eager to keep you compliant and dazed, “Look at you, all flustered over some pretty words,” he half taunts, “S’like you were meant for me.”

“Jason,” you start, and he shakes his head at you, pushing his fingers between your teeth.

“Bite down for me, sweetheart,” he instructs, and you can’t help but listen, nipping at the leather of his glove so he can free his hand. “Good,” he coos at you, “Now, hold onto that for me while I take care of you.”

You want to listen, want to do as he says, but his fingers start to rub slow, steady circles against your clit and your mouth drops open in a pitched whine all on its own, letting the glove fall to the floor.

He laughs at you, fond and mocking all at once, “Sweet baby, can’t handle it can you? That’s alright, doll. I’ll make you feel real good anyway.”

You nearly go cross eyed when his cock nudges your cunt. Usually he’d take his time, have you creaming on his fingers or tongue before he’d make you see stars on his cock. But there’s something on face that says he has something to prove, that even with knowledge of who he is, it doesn’t change that your body knows him, wants him.

His name leaves your throat in a needy cry as he sinks into you, slowly guiding himself deep into your fluttering cunt.

Your back arches as his fingers press harder to your clit, his smile almost primal as he feels you clench down on his dick, “Gonna make a mess, baby,” he warns, and you’re not sure if he’s telling you he’s planning on making you a mess, or if he’s pointing out that you’re already on the verge of soaking his cock.

You groan when he starts to rock his hips in shallow thrusts, and it makes you babble his name faster. He’s being careful, letting you adjust to every inch of him as he splits you apart.

But, it’s not enough, not enough to drive the thoughts of Red Hood lingering on the edge of your mind, so you hook your ankles behind his back, and squeeze your eyes shut. If you don’t see him, don’t see the mask still resting on top of his head, maybe you can still pretend he’s just Jason, just your sweet, normal boyfriend.

“Don’t hide,” he grunts and jerks his hips forward, burying himself in one smooth motion that makes you gasp and snap your eyes open.

“There you go,” he murmurs, smile sharp as he gazes down at you. He drops his forearm to the ground next to your head, caging you between his arm and his knife. His free hand leaves your clit to tug your thigh higher up his hip.

He almost seems proud when he starts to grind into you, watching every blissed expression that crosses your face when ruts against your sweet spot.

He pulls his hips back, making sure your eyes stay locked on his, before he drives back into your cunt, setting a head spinning pace that has your needy mewls and the sound of skin on skin filling the room.

He lowers his head to kiss you with a sly grin, swallowing up every whine you make. All the reservations you had quickly disappear, replaced by the tight feeling building in your gut, by the drag of his cock against your walls. He’s relentless, chasing his and your pleasure with a single minded focus.

There’s a promise in his touch, when his hand leaves your thigh to find your hip. His fingers dig into your skin, hard enough to leave an imprint. If your head was any clearer, you would recognize it for the threat that it was.

His lips leave yours, and he buries his face in your shoulder, thrusts becoming sloppy as he murmurs slurred vows into your skin. “Gonna keep you forever. Gonna make you feel this way every day. Never gonna let you go. Never gonna lose this, baby.”

Maybe it’s the way his voice goes ragged. Maybe it’s the way his hips stutter as he fights off his release. Or maybe it’s the way he presses feverish kisses to your skin. But it sends you spiraling over the edge, clenching around his cock and cumming with his name in your throat.

He follows you with a moan, movements slowing as he pumps his spend into your twitching pussy. “Good, baby. So good,” he manages to get out, pulling his face back just enough to watch you whimper and try to gather what’s left of your rationality.

He tilts his head down, grinning like a hunter that’s caught the best prize of the season. The movement causes his mask to slip off his head, sliding it back in place to cover his face. The air catches in your lungs at the sight, your body tensing as clarity strikes through the lingering haze of pleasure.

Jason only laughs, tracing the curve of your jaw, “What’s wrong, baby,” he teases, slowly rolling his hips into your sensitive cunt, “Don’t tell me you forgot who was fucking you?”

“Take it off,” You murmur, voice tight as he drags every last bit of ecstasy from your body.

He hums, “Mm, No. You gotta get used to it, sweetheart. This mask, me, ain’t going anywhere.”

A part of you is still scared, scared to test him more than you already have, but it’s not Red Hood you want, it’s not Red Hood you fell in love with. Anger guides your actions as you reach up to rip the mask off his face. He catches your wrist faster than you see him move.

Everything seems to stop.

He slowly lowers your wrist back to the ground, pinning the offending hand above your head, “Now, sweetheart,” he says slowly, voice lowered to a tone you’ve never heard before, “We’re not going to do that.”

“I’m not sleeping with Red Hood,” you hiss, sounding braver than you feel.

He snorts at you, and every word he speaks is followed by a sharp thrust of his cock, “Baby, I am Red Hood.”

Your arguments turn to keens, overwhelmed and dizzy by his institance to keep driving his dick deeper into your pussy. His words hardly seem to register, but he keeps talking to you anyway, “You’ve been sleeping with Red Hood, baby. And you liked it– loved it. Just have to remind you.”

You can’t seem to focus. He’s good, so good at hitting all the spots that turn your brain into mush and your legs into jelly. But that mask, that stupid mask is staring down at you. It’s the only thing you can see.

You’re divided between Jason, the Jason whose cock has you babbling and moaning, and Red Hood. Red Hood who has your wrist pinned to the hard floor, who’s watching your every movement like he needs to memorize every expression, every sound you make.

It’s not until later, when he has you cumming on his cock for the fifth time, that you realize they are the same. They’ve always been the same.

Jason Todd is Red Hood, and now that you know, he'll blur the lines until you're not sure why you were ever really scared of him.

#jason todd x reader #slasher!au #jason todd smut #jason todd #x reader #jason todd x y/n #jason todd x you #raes kinktober fics

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machveil · 4 months ago

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The Zombie!AU but with Moose!König thoughts...?1

OKAY, you unlocked some hidden compartment in my brain—

CW: nondescript zombies, Moose!König, minimally descriptive gore visuals

Survivor!Reader who’s been constantly on the move during the apocalypse. they figure it’s never truly safe to fully settle down, hoards of zombies often migrating around. the fear that a location can suddenly be swarmed, so they don’t stay one place for too long. the world fell apart quickly, no sign of a beating heart anywhere

you find yourself cutting through a thick, wooded area on your way to the next small town. the trees give you cover, a way to lose any wandering corpses. the sun is dipping in the sky, the moon visible not too far away. clear skies, the canopy lets what little light there is peak through. it’s quiet, no undead groans or the buzz of flies, just the soft pad of your footsteps against the ground. it’s too quiet, when did the birds stop chirping? how long has it been since you’ve heard the odd cricket? how deep are these woods? the roughed up map you found made it seems tiny—

is that a body? sucking in a breath, dulled knife in hand, you eye the body on the ground. dead, not reanimating upon your approach. this deep in the woods? maybe someone passing by had killed a stray wanderer? but there’s another, and then a handful more. all slain on the forest floor, it’d be best to leave. there’s something foreboding about the scene, it doesn’t look like they had been killed by blades or bullets. maybe it’s best to turn back. you’d seen enough horror flicks before the world went to shit, smart enough to not continue this way

pick a direction, go. you got a little turned around in a brief moment of stress, your map useless until you could find somewhere to act as a point of recognition. it’s eerie now, the sky darkening overhead and the crunch of leaves underfoot. a clearing? there’s a patch without trees in the distance, dead shrubs and bushes had been growing there where the sky opened up. maybe you could set up camp there. maybe if it weren’t so cold out it’d be nice, reminiscent of camping before the outbreak. the quiet and stillness of the looming night isn’t terrible, there’s a crispness to the air

if you weren’t so distracted by your thoughts you’d notice the gored ground - maybe the lack of dead is to blame. dulled, matte red staining fallen branches and logs, speckled on the leaves you’re walking on. antler velvet. but you’re caught up looking skywards, small, dazzling stars peaking out as dusk settles into night. looking towards the heavens, only brought back to earth when you hear a huffed groan, the cracking of twigs and heavy footsteps behind you. knife drawn, when you turn it’s not a zombie, maybe it would have been better if it was. shock rushing through you momentarily, grip slack as your knife falls, a sudden course of adrenaline shoots through you

red, raw antlers with velvet hanging off them, a massive frame looming in front of you. cold, apathetic eyes. a muscled, heavy body marred by old scar wounds - a zombie you could handle, what the fuck do you do about this? it’s— he’s stood still, gaze cast down on you. he’s a brutal sight, the need to look away overpowered by the fear of breaking eye contact. where did he come from? the woods are dense, but not so much you’d miss a behemoth. a slow step backwards, what else can you do other than put some distance between you and— this? but where would you go? there’s no clear direction towards what had been civilization. the chance of running into the undead in the dark is even less appealing, of course, that doesn’t matter if you’re killed here

“Stay.”, god, one word has your throat tight with stress, nerves on fire as he slowly approaches. it’s too much, especially when a strand of velvet falls from his antlers in front of you. there’s curiosity in the way he tilts his head, how he crowds a little too close to you. you can’t help but flinch when he brings a rough, calloused hand up towards your face - it makes him pause, fingertips ghosting over your cheek. his near silence is awful, deep, heavy breathing cutting through the quiet when he breathes out. he doesn’t ask for your name, retracting his hand before glancing around the area

suddenly he’s giving you space, still eyeing you as he steps further into the clearing. “You can stay.”, his voice is quiet, pitched a little higher than you’d think for someone of his stature. and then his words catch up to you, staying in the clearing with him. as much as your head is screaming to leave, that this could be a ploy to some— some trap… unfortunately, it��s better than wandering the pitch black woods. the clearing at least has scattered beams of moonlight illuminating it, moonlight reminiscent of his pale eyes. the better of two evils, hesitant all the same, you let your backpack fall to the earth

one night in the woods with a stranger is better than dying to the dead, right?

#mmm moose!könig #did we like this?#zombie apocolypse au #konig #könig #könig cod #könig call of duty #könig headcanons #konig x you #konig x reader #könig x you #könig x reader #cod #cod thoughts #call of duty #hit post

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junovae · 4 months ago

Note

hi i know you got an ask really recently but can you maybe do the silly sashimi (seb) x a suicidal reader??? but also reader is really silly and the first thing reader says is “hear me out…” or something??? i love your writing :3

thank you so much reader, i greatly appreciate it (っᵔ◡ᵔ)っ(˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶). and don't worry, i got you.

expendable

sebastian solace x reader ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ sfw

artwork: artwork is NOT mine. art is by @miittchan on tumblr, youtube, and twitter. go check out their work and socials, promise it's worth your time.

PLEASE DO NOT INTERACT IF THIS TOPIC IS HEAVY FOR YOU. MAKE SURE TO TAKE CARE OF YOURSELF ALWAYS ૮ ◞ ﻌ ◟ ა

summary: escaping the ghastly prison that was the hadal blacksite was probably the best thing to ever happen to you. so why, if that was the case, did you want to go back?

cw: sebastian x su!cidal!fem!reader, takes place after finishing the game, still in the pressure universe, same timeline as this, mentions of trauma and slight suicidal thoughts, reader is coping, angst and comfort too of course, reader wants to...go back to the hadal blacksite?, reader just misses a certain someone too much, trying to find peace amidst the chaos, no spicy scene for this one

wc: 1.4k

a.n: i think i would want to go back too ngl. also this was just my take on the prompt. BUT, if you were looking for something more like sad reader and sebastian comforting them, i got you too with that headcanon. just lmk!! :)

· · ─── ·𖥸· ─── · ·

"and last but definitely not least. hear me out..."

you place a picture of him, post transformation and all, onto the cake.

"who's this? he kind of looks like the guy who uhm, you know," your friend stared at you intently, hoping you would get the gist. when you didn't answer, they continued. "back in 2013, remember? with the nine peo-"

"no, no, it's just someone i met at the blacksite," you quickly interjected, forgetting that urbanshade had unjustly faked his death and hid the true story of sebastian solace from the world. "and no, that guy didn't murder them. he was wrongly convicted. just like i was," whispering the last part, you grab forks from the kitchen drawer set the cake onto the dining table.

"right, i'm sorry," they whispered softly, guilt creeping into their voice. hoping to lighten the mood, your friend added, "but no, i’m actually hearing you out on this one. did you know this fish creature personally?"

the two of you take a seat and start munching on the delicious red velvet 'hear-me-out' cake presented in front of you. "you could say that," you smiled cheekily, causing the both of you to burst out into a fit of giggles.

just then, a sharp pain similar to tiny needle stabbings pulse through your upper abdomen and into your chest. a series of flashbacks creep their way into your mind.

𓂃 𓈒𓏸

you’re escorted down the submarine ramp and shoved onto a platform. “just keep walking. if you hear anything strange, hide.”

𓂃 𓈒𓏸

an ear-piercing screech echoes in the distance. you rush to the nearest locker, slamming the door shut just as a pink aura sweeps past.

𓂃 𓈒𓏸

you crawl through a vent and find a small storage room at the end. turning right, you stumble upon a strange fish creature, causing you to jump back. "ah, another expendable," he yawns, unamused. "come in, fishbait. welcome to the shop."

𓂃 𓈒𓏸

volus lunara's searchlights close in. nervous and trembling, you fail the skill-check, getting shocked by the generator. stunned, you lie there as the beam focuses on you. your eyes widen in horror as the monster's grapples pierce your body. this wouldn't be the first time you've experienced this. you'd die a hundred more deaths.

𓂃 𓈒𓏸

hurt and wounded, you collapse in a corner. your head spins as the distinct sound of chains dragging on the ground fills the air. resigned to your fate, you limp toward a corner, exhausted. suddenly, someone grabs you and carries you to a seemingly safe room. “what are you doing, fishbait?” a voice hisses. only one person ever called you that. “why didn’t you move? you could’ve died,” sebastian snaps, his voice tinged with anger, but there's a hint of worry beneath it.

𓂃 𓈒𓏸

you and sebastian are lying together in the room behind his shop, an unexpected moment of vulnerability. the two of you open up about your pasts. he shares the details of his tragic demise, a painful history that he’s never spoken of before. in the quiet of the room, no longer caring about the consequences, you lean forward and plant a kiss on his cheek. sebastian tilts his head, confusion crossing his face, but there's something else there too—something unreadable.

𓂃 𓈒𓏸

a document? "the saboteur," it reads at the top. as you continue reading, the details unfold—now you understand why he’s been given that name.

𓂃 𓈒𓏸

after days of giving him the silent treatment, sebastian solace finally breaks. finding out that he was the cause of your repeated deaths weighs heavily on you. desperate to fix things, he starts a pillow fight, and through laughter, the tension melts away. eventually, the two of you make up, finding comfort in the shared moment of forgiveness.

𓂃 𓈒𓏸

you try again and again, until one fateful day, you finally make it to the end. as you dry off from your underwater escapade and step into the submarine, a realization hits you. you’ve reached your freedom, but what about sebastian?

𓂃 𓈒𓏸

as you turn from the submarine to search for him, sebastian suddenly appears right behind you. confused, you stare at him. "sebastian, come with me. we can have our freedom and get revenge on urbanshade." he looks at you, his expression sad and melancholy. "i can't go, fishbait."

"yes, you can. come with me, please," you insist.

"look at me. what do i look like to you?" he asks, and you don't see anything wrong with him.

he explains that he has bigger plans, ones that will lead to him meeting you again someday—in human form. you refuse to leave, even as the submarine's hatch starts to close. but in the last moment, he pushes you in. the hatch slams shut, and you’re engulfed in complete darkness.

𓂃 𓈒𓏸

your pulse rushes and eyesight narrows. the room is spinning and the fork in your hands falls onto the table, alarming your friend. your head drops into your hands and you start panting.

"hey, you okay?" they drop the piece of cake with jake sully's avatar on it that they're eating and rush towards you.

"i need space," you shoot at them, feeling their hands on your shoulder. yes, you do feel bad for pushing a friend away but the feeling was too overwhelming. "please, i need space," you repeated again, softly this time.

"yes, i understand." filled with worry, they pat your back one last time before taking one last bite of the cake and grabbing their jacket from the couch. "i'll be back tomorrow, okay? we can finish eating the cake then. just text me when you're feeling better. and please take care of yourself."

nodding your head in acknowledgement, the front door finally closes. you get up, massaging your temples, to lock the front door. your heart is still pounding and face is flushing. you rush to your room and close the door behind you before jumping on your bed. the white sheets engulf your frame as you finally allowed yourself to release the tension you've been feeling all this time.

you desperately scream into your pillow. "this isn't fair at all." you continue to cry, the sound of your soft sobs being the only thing filling the pitch-black room.

months of being trapped in the never-ending death loop in the limbo of the hadal blacksite changed you. now that you were free, nobody believed your testimony against urbanshade. after all, it was one escapee prisoner versus a well-known corporate company. sure, you had your freedom, but the guilt of knowing the company's darkest secrets—the horrid, inhumane experiments they conducted on their captives, the trauma of each death and reset—was consuming you. you had no one to confide in. the only person who truly understood you was still trapped in that very place you purely and vehemently loathed.

expendable. that's what you were. that's what urbanshade had labeled you.

dispensable, nonessential, and powerless.

"i don't want to do this anymore," you softly whisper into the void of darkness consuming you.

...

what the hell are you talking about?

you shot up. what the fuck. was that-

please tell me you're not giving up that easily, fishbait.

yeah, no, this was definitely your long-awaited delirium. you were going crazy. the physical and mental stress was driving you insane. but even so... even if it was you finally reaching your limit or even a suppressed memory of him, sebastian solace had promised you that he would see you again one day.

you took a deep breath, steadying yourself in the crushing darkness. maybe you were losing it, maybe that voice was just your fractured mind. but if there was even a sliver of truth, you couldn’t give up. not now. not ever.

"fine, sebastian," you whispered, standing to your feet and wiping your tears. "if you’re still out there, i'll find you. and if this is just my own madness, then i’ll survive long enough to make it back to you—human form or not."

giving up was a harsh reality. but so was fighting back. either way, you knew you couldn't stop. you wouldn’t stop. not until freedom was real for both of you.

you made up your mind. you were going back to the one place in the world you dreaded the most — urbanshade's hadal blacksite.

· · ─── ·𖥸· ─── · ·

#junovae #letters to juno #sebastian solace #sebastian x reader #sebastian pressure #pressure #pressure roblox #sebastian solace x reader

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sgtgarricks · 1 year ago

Text

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ i want your hands on me for all my life

simon riley x afab!reader cw: nsfw, angst, happy ending, mentions of simon's abusive past, talks about death, mentions of soap's death, fingering, oral sex (f!receiving), unprotected piv sex, creampie!!, simon lets himself be happy yay

reblogs are immensely appreciated! <3

PREVIOUS PART: your gentle hands are enough

notes: this is the 2nd part for the people that want a happy ending :) this turned out sooo long LMFAO if you want to be sad just pretend this doesn't exist and read the other one! your feedback & comments help <3

Simon had always excelled at compartmentalizing his emotions ever since he was a child.

Growing up with an abusive father and an older brother who has hell-bent on scaring him had forced him to develop self-preservation tactics in order to survive their torment. Dissociating was a daily occurrence in his childhood years — it helped Simon escape the pain and torment that was being inflicted on his body.

Being in the military has not been that different.

He was still dissociating, but he was no longer on the receiving end of thrown punches and insults. He was now the perpetrator inflicting agony on his enemies for the good of the world. To rid the world of filth.

Simon Riley had become the ultimate soldier — lethal, swift, quiet, and was immune to the horrors of war, which was no surprise considering he had spent most of his childhood learning to lock away all the negative emotions. The ability had become innate, bleeding into his daily life and in turn, his relationships.

When Simon walked out the door, he had left all the hurt and sadness in the apartment with you. He trusted you'd keep a part of him safe until he came back and even if he didn't.

Simon had whole-heartedly accepted the risk that comes with the job, fully prepared to lay his life down if it meant a better world than yesterday. In fact, Simon knew death more intimately more than anyone. He'd knocked on death's door multiple times but always seemed to come out alive.

It was easy for him to not think of you. The anxious voice inside his head becomes static as he engrossed himself in the mission. The hard part comes when the dust has settled — when all that remain are cold corpses and bullet casings.

Sitting in the helicopter all bloodied accompanied by the sound of whirring blades wasn't usually bad. It would give him time to sit down and process his emotions. It let him feel the slight guilt that never goes away when taking a life — no matter how rotten.

But with each mission he went on after his abrupt departure, he finds himself constantly ruminating his entire reason for not wanting to get into a relationship with you.

Simon had wanted you to move on from him when he died, eventually. Forget the bruised and battered soldier and find someone whole, someone who could be there for you and love you without causing you anxiety every time their phone rang.

He thought himself selfless for trying to spare you, but his entire reason collapses with every mission he comes back alive.

What was his excuse now? What was he protecting you from?

The voices slink back into his mind the moment he gains a moment of peace. Whispers planting seeds of doubt in his mind, feeding on his insecurity and his fears. They're ruthless and persistent.

You don't deserve them. They're too good for you. You're going to leave them one day anyway, why bother?

He feels a tightness in his chest, as if a phantom hand was squeezing his heart that sends pulses of pain through him. His hand shakes slightly, fingers moving absent-mindedly trying to remember the feel of your skin.

"You alright, Lieutenant?" His captain's voice breaks him out of his trance. Simon is slightly startled but doesn't let it show. He merely grunts.

"'M alright."

Silence engulfs them once more. It goes one for one, two, maybe three minutes. It's suffocating. Simon can read people well enough by now that he knows there are questions lingering in the back of John Price's mind.

A part of Simon wishes he'd just spit it out, but the thought of having to explain seemed worse. Instead, Simon settles with a silent huff as the helicopter continues on its designated course.

The second the helicopter landed, Price simply nods at him, trusting him to get his shit together and walks off to his office. Simon does his usual routine, though instead of rushing through the motions, he's intentionally prolonging each action.

Whereas normally he couldn't get out of this place faster, now he almost dreaded the moment he would have to leave. Staying at the base meant monotonous, dull, predictable tasks. Leaving means he has to choose where to go — he has to actively force himself to not drive straight to your apartment despite the fact that every fiber in his being longs to be close to you.

He feels sick, a kind of illness spreading inside of him that only ever felt better when you were around him. A dull ache inside his body that only lights up when you touch him.

He runs a hand to his now damp hair, content with sitting on a sofa in the rec room. Normally, the place would be bustling with recruits goofing around with each other. But one glance at the broodier-than-normal look on the lieutenant's face had created a force field that pushed away everyone as to not get caught in its storm.

Simon doesn't know how long he sits there, half of him trying to convince himself to not come to you. That you don't deserve the broken man with a penchant for violence.

Chuckling lowly to himself, he shakes his head. What kind of demented higher power decided someone as kind as you be plucked and dropped into his sights?

Fifteen minutes went by as he pities himself in the rec room before a shadow in his peripheral vision causes him to look up.

"L.T.," Kyle nods towards him, leaning on the doorframe.

"Garrick." Simon grunts dismissively, not saying anything more. He hops the sergeant will take the hint on his own and leave the miserable bastard to his own devices.

Kyle worries for Simon. The brooding giant seems more miserable than usual — not more than after the incident, but still. Typically, he wouldn't even be able to catch a glimpse of his lieutenant after coming back from deployment. He'd usually opt to disappear from the base in record time.

The fact that he's here now, instead of wherever he usually hangs around, is slightly concerning.

"You alright, L.T.?"

Simon turns to him, slightly annoyed. "Why does everyone keep asking me that? Yes, I'm alright." He huffs. Kyle merely shrugs, unbothered by the icy gaze directed at him.

"Well, seeing as you haven't fucked off from the base yet and it's been," Kyle checks his phone for the time, "Around an hour? I'd wager something is wrong."

Sometimes Simon hated how observant Gaz was. Kyle's always been attentive, even more so now without Johnny's presence. It wasn't a secret that Johnny had been the lieutenant's shadow — always lingering near him, cracking jokes and pulling his leg.

His absence had naturally left a gaping void in Simon, oozing all the pain and hurt that comes with losing a comrade. Simon isn't naive, he knows death comes as a package with being in the battlefield. He's seen his fellow soldiers die, held them as they bled out. It was why he tended to keep to himself. After all, the less people you know, the less funerals you have to go to.

This worked most of the time, anyone who got close to Simon would get his arctic stare and cower off — most of the time anyway. Johnny was a different case. Johnny was a little bit of a nutcase to be honest. A talented, bright, pyromaniac, the youngest ever to pass SAS selection, with an arsenal of jokes in his pockets. The blue-eyed Scotsman got along quickly with Kyle, bantering with each other easily as if they had been long-lost friends.

While Johnny still had reservations about dicking around with the captain, he didn't seem to have the same problem with Simon. Seemingly happy to chatter off in his ear about anything, whether it was about shitty food, a lady he picked up from a bar, or jabs directed at Simon.

Johnny's bright disposition put Simon on edge. He wasn't used to seeing someone not be terrified of him. No matter how many glares he sent him, the bugger wouldn't leave him alone. Johnny would continue to go out of his way to talk to Simon, to sit next to him during lunch, and sometimes, Johnny would even manage to get Simon to open up just a little.

"What's on yer mind, L.T.?" Johnny nudged Simon with his elbow. The two men were both sat at the bar, the TV playing an old recording of a football match. It had taken Johnny ten minutes to convince Simon to go out for drinks and he planned on taking full advantage of it.

Johnny had been talking non-stop for around five minutes about his sister who had just gotten married, waiting for a reaction from Simon who seemed distracted. His eyes had strayed to the other side of the bar a few times, barely noticeable to the untrained eye, but Johnny was anything but.

"Nothin'." Simon had grunted, tearing his gaze away. A giant smirk plastered itself onto Johnny's face.

"Ah, been starin' at the sad one across the bar, aye?" Seeing Simon's eye widen a little had made Johnny even more gleeful. "Go on then. Ye have my full permission to ditch me tonight." He teased, winking at his lieutenant.

"Don't know what you're talking about, Johnny." Simon had denied instantly, taking a sip of his drink. A normal person would have left it at that, but Johnny wasn't your average person. He loved starting fires and Simon was a flame he wanted to see lit.

"Ach, come on L.T. what's the harm, eh? A little bit of flirting never hurt anyone." Simon didn't know this but Johnny wasn't going to let this go. It was the first time Johnny had ever seen Simon show interest in someone and he'd do anything to get Simon to at the very least, talk to them.

"They're a civvy, Johnny. Not gonna take any chances." Simon shook his head adamantly.

"That's bollocks! All we do is take risks anyway, at least on this one the worst that could happen is getting a drink thrown in yer face." Johnny chuckles, peering at the person across the bar who was clearly nursing a broken heart. Simon still made no move to get up from his chair.

Praying to whatever God was listening, Johnny hoped Simon wouldn't kill him after what he was going to do. Calling over the bartender, Johnny slid the man a fifty.

"Mate, give 'em a refill yeah? Tell 'em it's from the big bloke over here." Johnny signaled the bartender. Simon, who had finally processed what Johnny was doing, couldn't even get a word in. The bartender hastily took the money and went back to his station, ignoring Simon's call.

Simon could only watch in despair as the bartender presented the drink and pointed towards Simon. He received a shy smile, a mouthed 'thank you', and an expectant look.

"Now you've got to go there, mate. Otherwise you'll look like an arsehole!" Johnny threw his arms up, grinning triumphantly. The sergeant crossed his arms and wiggled his eyebrows.

Simon could've easily ignored Johnny and went back to his drink. But a part of him couldn't deny that he wanted to go over there and maybe talk to someone else that wasn't Scottish for a change. Against his usual logic, Simon decided to stand up from his chair.

"You're an arsehole." A glare was sent Johnny's way, although it had no weight behind them. As Simon began to walk away, he could hear Johnny laughing loudly.

"Yer welcome!"

Simon had never told Johnny you were the person who had been texting him during deployment, but he knew deep down that Johnny already knew. He'd asked multiple times, even tried sneaking a look.

He simply didn't want to admit that Johnny forcing him to talk to you that day had shifted Simon's world. He wished he told Johnny.

"We all miss him, L.T." Kyle's soft voice spoke again. He's closer now, dragging a chair from a table and sitting in front of Simon. Kyle knew he could never fill the giant void that Johnny left, but he felt a sense of responsibility to at least try. Price had become more closed off after his death whereas Simon had slowly been unraveling, little stitches coming loose a day at a time.

"All we can do is make sure it's not in vain." Simon sighs, hearing Kyle's words, knows he's right. That he can't go back to expecting the worst all the time, constantly on edge.

Johnny had breathed life into his ghostly presence, bringing Simon back into the realm of the living. The more Johnny got out of the lieutenant, the more people were able to see that Simon wasn't merely a visage, a ghost roaming the hallway. That he was a real person.

He was throwing away his chance at a second life. Perhaps it was also a twisted way of Simon punishing himself. If he couldn't save Johnny, couldn't save the man who managed to get him to talk to you, then he didn't deserve you. It was a round-about way of him trying to mend off the guilt eating away at him that had inadvertently claimed another victim.

"Thank you, sergeant." Simon stood up. Clapping his hand on Kyle's shoulder.

I see you.

"Don't mention it, sir."

The drive to your house takes around twenty minutes, which means that's all the time Simon has to try and figure out a way to atone for his sins.

They're too gracious to even hold a grudge against you. A small part of Simon tells him. While he hopes that's true, he still wants to apologize and acknowledge how unfair he's been to you. If not to make you feel better, at the very least it will ease his conscience.

He drums his finger on the steering wheel, the radio turned on but on low volume. For once, Simon wishes he had Johnny's ability to get out of problems with his alluring words and his kicked-puppy look.

Lost in his own thoughts, he hadn't even realized he's been sitting in his parked car for a few minutes. He clasps his hands when he realizes they're shaking. God, he was so terrified. Not of you, no. He was scared of having to see what he's done to you. Is terrified of really seeing the carnage Simon Riley had tore in you.

He lets out a bated breath and opens the car door. He knows you're home by now, probably cooking away while listening to some indie band. Resting his head on your door, he braces himself once more, and knocks.

He waits, the seconds feeling like hours. The door swings open and he sees your surprised face.

"Simon." You compose yourself immediately, not wanting to show any sort of weakness in front of him. Something twitches on the corners of his mouth hidden by the balaclava. As if realizing he's still wearing it, he takes it off.

"Can I come in?" He asks timidly, as if approaching a wounded animal. He had no idea how you'd react after him being gone for so long. Even during his three month deployments, he'd sometimes text you once every fortnight. But after the way he left things, he couldn't bring himself to message you at all. Couldn't even stomach the thought of you still pining over him after what he had done. It was easier for him to simply block your number. Photos of sunsets and coffee cups gathering dust in his photo album, unsent.

You didn't even think about it, your body unconsciously moving sideways to let him in. A part of you screams at yourself.

Idiot, show some dignity.

It had been so easy for you to let the man who had left you for six months without a word back into your apartment, into your life.

You felt like an addict. Constantly begging for your next fix and taking whatever scraps are thrown your way. It's pitiful, but you're too far gone, anyway. His dirty boots make contact with your hardwood floor, leaving small specks of mud on them. Simon notices the frown marring your face and begins to unlace his boots.

"Sorry." He apologizes, neatly tucking away his muddy boots at the side of your door. You close the door behind him, making your way towards your kitchen. The plate clatters loudly in the sink as you haphazardly put them away, clearly rattled.

Simon coughs slightly, words stuck in his throat. He'd prepared a small speech earlier yet all the words seem to escape him. All the courage he had mustered for his little speech all had but disappeared into thin air. He feels out of his depths, not used to being vulnerable.

"What are you doing here, Simon?" Your voice sounds so tired. He supposes he was to blame for that.

"Can we talk?" He sends you a pleading look, hoping you still felt a sliver of the love you used to harbor for him — the only thing stopping you from kicking him out.

"Oh, so after blocking me and radio silence for six months you've decided you want to talk?" The bitterness seeps into your words like venom. He can't even make himself physically recoil from the sharp edge of your tone. Simon can feel the thin rope right beneath his feet, one wrong step and he'd be falling off the edge.

He takes a deep breath. "I deserve that."

"Oh, you deserve more than that Simon Riley. I should kick you out right now." You were huffing now, going slightly red in the face. Had he not been so anxious he might've thought you look cute. But right now? He was downright terrified.

"Just-" Simon pinches his nose bridge, calming himself down. "Let me speak for a moment, yeah? After that if you want me to leave, I'll leave." He holds both his hands up.

You were livid, rightfully so. The man you love had essentially decided he didn't want to communicate with you anymore, breaking your heart. The first week you thought maybe something had happened to his phone, broken it maybe?

As the weeks turned into months, the realization dawned on you that he had purposefully blocked you, cut off all contact. At first there was only sadness. You spent your days crying into your blanket, some days barely functioning. The hurt and betrayal had emotionally drained you. Did all those years mean nothing to him?

You knew he had a hard time expressing his emotions, but never in your wildest dreams did you think he would throw you away just like that. Like you were nothing more to him than a good fuck. Despite your head telling you otherwise, the emotional baggage he had left you with didn't leave much option.

It was easier to hate him than to accept maybe he didn't love you at all.

You spent the first few months cursing into the wind hoping it'd somehow hurt him a fraction of how much he hurt you. Afterwards, the pain became a lingering , dull ache, but not debilitating anymore. It became a constant that you carry everyday.

Kicking him out the door was tempting, but you knew it wouldn't do you any good. If anything, the words left unsaid would become a leech — slowly draining away your curiosity until you eventually leave another voicemail.

You give him a pointed stare before sitting down on the couch. Simon slowly approached you, wanting nothing more than to sit next to you but choosing to sink into the other side of the couch. He sees you cross your arms, feeling more uncomfortable by the second.

"I jus' wanna say that I'm sorry." He stares into your eyes, slouched with elbows on his thighs. Seeing your mouth thin into a line, Simon knows he's going to have to do a lot better.

"When Johnny died..." Your eyes widen, arms slacking slightly. He'd talk about Johnny sometimes but sometime ago had entirely stopped mentioning his name altogether. You had suspected something terrible had happened but you didn't want to believe it.

"I was so angry. It's not fair. He was so young, had his whole future ahead of him. Told me he was gonna see his sister's newborn on his next leave." He breathes out, clenching his fists.

"All of that, gone. We haven't even caught the bastard yet." Simon runs an exasperated hand through his face. Your arms were no longer crossed, choosing to fiddle with the edge of your shirt. You wanted to comfort him so badly, wanted to take him into your arms and tell him everything's going to be okay. But he was still pouring his heart out and you wanted to greedily snatch every piece he was willing to give.

"I had constant nightmares for months. Sometimes, I still do. You're just a heavy sleeper, I suppose." He chuckles and catches the way the edge of your mouth turn up.

"It's never easy, losing someone. It changes you. I used to hear his nonsense almost everyday and now it's just not there. I'm terrified one day it'll be like he was never there at all." Simon looks away, blinking tears away.

"But he was there. I know that. I felt him. He was like the fucking sun, but instead of being 150 million kilometers away, he's next to my ear with his Scottish nonsense." Simon chuckles bitterly, reminiscing the times when Johnny had to translate his gibberish.

You stay quiet, letting him speak freely. You had a feeling where this was going and how Johnny's death had indirectly impacted your relationship.

"If I died tomorrow, would you be okay?" His question catches you off guard. It was a question you've pondered a thousand times before, and every time you only ever came up with one answer.

"No." You answer honestly, because you'd break either way. Whether it was tomorrow or a year from now. You can feel a part of Simon in your bloodstream that if he died, some part of you would die with him.

"I only ever wanted you to be okay." He straightens, testing the waters by moving closer to you. You let him.

"Would you prefer if I never loved you at all?" Your heart was thumping loudly in your chest you worried he could hear it.

"No." His answer was immediate, as if he'd never been as sure before. "Not selfless enough for that."

"Then are you selfless enough to accept that I would want it to hurt?" You put your hand on top of his, gently grasping them within yours. Simon feels the broken pieces of him mending together.

He's quiet, not sure how to respond. He didn't use to understand why people would put themselves on the line, but he's starting to.

"If you died, I'd want it to hurt. I'd want it to take my breath away. I'd want it to keep me awake at night. I'd want every single bone in my body to ache when you're gone, because that would mean I have loved you with all of me."

You don't realize you'd started crying. There was no distance anymore between you and Simon. His thigh pressed against yours as you clutch his hand to your chest.

"I want it to hurt so badly, because I want to love you deeply." Tears were streaming freely down your face you couldn't even stop them even if you wanted to.

"Simon, will you let me hurt for you?"

And he lets you.

"Okay." His hand go to engulf your frame, but you had thrown yourself at him before he managed to. Simon can feel his shirt getting wet, he'd never thought he'd be slightly happy over the fact that you were crying.

Everything's going to be okay.

Your head was now on his collarbone, his palm gently holding you there. You feel a kiss on the top of your head as he strokes it.

Neither of you know how long you simply cried on him, much less when you ended up on his lap. When he heard you stop — tired from the energy you exerted, he slowly rearranges his body so that you are able to lie fully on top of him. His sore back is the last thing on his mind as he sees your peacefully sleeping away.

A pounding headache eventually woke you. You weren't sure if last night really happened or if your mind had conjured a scenario where Simon came back for you. However, the sweltering heat you feel on your midsection proves otherwise.

He really was here.

His eyes were closed, seeming to be asleep. You test the waters, placing your palm on the left side of his face. A hand immediately darts towards your hand and keeps it there.

"Put some pills on your nightstand for the headache." He murmurs, eyes still closed. His face turns slightly, placing a kiss on your palm. Even after half a year away, he still knows you like the back of his hand.

Leaning in, you give him a peck on the cheek. As much as you want to drink in the sight of him, there were more pressing matters at hand. You need the reassurance. You need him to tell you he wasn't going to abandon you again.

"Simon, did you mean it?" You can't get the entire words out, can only hope it was enough to convey your tumultuous emotions. His heart aches that you don't believe him, but he understands.

"I love you, sweetheart." Soft lips descend upon your own, barely brushing.

"'M here to stay as long as you want me here." He sneaks a hand under you, pulling you closer to him. There isn't any part of you that's not connected to him in some way.

He was so warm, scorching you inside out. You wanted his flame to burn every inch of your skin. When he left, everything felt cold to the bone, your life turning into muted blues and grays.

Simon brought warmth into your life, with his little acts of service. With the little trinkets he brings back after deployment because it reminded him of you. With his gentle hands, gentle kisses — his gentle self.

"I love you, Si." You whisper, grabbing him by the neck and lowering your lips onto his. Brushing softly, you were going to pull away when Simon lets out a moan. Heat builds inside of you as you slip your tongue inside his open mouth. He grunts in surprise, holding you still for a second. But you're impatient.

"Need you." You whine, "Want you so much, Si."

"Yeah?" He mumbles against your lips, running his hands through your hair gently.

"Thought I'd be in the dog house much longer than that, love." He teases you. Simon yelps slightly when you retaliate by biting on his lower lip. He grips both your cheeks with his fingers, pushing you away from him.

"That wasn't very nice of you, hmm?" He gently shakes your head, grinning handsomely. "Think you need a little lesson in being nice, sweetheart. Lucky for you, I'm an excellent teacher." He leans in and kisses your puckered lips, working his way downwards.

His hands wander everywhere, working themselves underneath your shirt. You feel goosebumps rise where his fingertips lay, shivering under his hold.

"Missed you so much, Si. Please." Your moans echo throughout the room. He's holding your thighs together as he trails down your body as you writhe.

"Missed you too, love. Fuck, missed you so fucking much." He manages to say. He cups your ass as he mouths at your panty-covered mound. Your juices seep through the fabric, making Simon groan.

"Mmm.. Someone missed me too." He runs his tongue up and down your slit as you cross both your legs behind his neck. He felt you clench your thighs and he feels blood rushing downwards. Turning his head slightly to the right, he nips lightly at your inner thigh.

He'd barely touched you but here you are already begging for it. Simon Riley has you wrapped around his finger and it scares you a little how much of a hold he has on you. You had bared your neck so openly for him and he had bit down the first chance he got.

"Will you let me take care of you, love? Make you feel good." He hums, fingers trailing along your inner thigh waiting for permission. You nod fervently before realizing he can't see you.

"Yes, yes, yes. Need you to take care of me, Si." Your heart was beating fast out of anticipation.

"Yeah? I'll make you feel good, baby." He coos at you as his fingers slowly pull down your panties. Strings of your juices were sticking to the insides. He threw them aimlessly, eyes zeroed in on your wet pussy.

His finger runs through your folds, making squelching noises. "All this for me, hmm?" He tilts his head up, pinching when you don't reply immediately. The sudden sensation makes you whimper.

"All for you, Si. Just for you." You were panting heavily as Simon sucks your clit into his mouth and licks in a circular motion. You thread your fingers in his hair, not tugging harshly.

Simon laps at your pussy like a starved man, burying his entire face in your warmth. He moans between every few licks, the taste of you dazing him. Your eyes glaze over as you see the man you love pleasuring you with earnest. He continues for a while, alternating his focus between your bud and your folds.

When you tug at his shirt impatiently, Simon grunts. He gets up and throws his shirt over his head. Not one second after it's off, you begin to paw at him, desperate to feel every inch of him.

Simon thinks he's never seen such a beautiful sight. Your hair was messy from your movements, eyes hazy as he can feel goosebumps on his body where you stare. He grabs your face and kisses you desperately, his tongue exploring every inch of your mouth. His clothed bulge was grinding messily against your wet pussy as his boxers begin to darken from the wetness.

Simon's whimper fill the room when he feels you grinding upwards to rub yourself on his cock. He pulls from your lips with a string of saliva. Not waiting for him, you scramble to take off your shirt, baring your tits to him.

His eyes drink in the state of you greedily, one hand groping your tits as the other travels down to your pussy. You were beyond wet enough for his cock, but he's determined to make you cum on his fingers first.

Two fingers slip into you gently. The stretch catches you off guard, it's been a while since you've had his thick fingers probing inside you. His fingers were thrusting shallowly as you grind on his palm.

"Fuck, Simon. Feels so good." You babble, barely able to keep your eyes open, the pleasure overwhelming your senses.

"Yeah? Gonna make you feel even better." With that, his fingers thrust deeper into you, massaging your spot. Your back arches as Simon plants his face on your chest, sucking on your nipples.

He crooks his fingers slightly as he continues thrusting, his palm touching your clit with each time. You couldn't stay still anymore, moving your hips back to meet his thrusts.

The room was filled with wet, squelching noises and your combined moans. Your hands were gripping his bicep, feeling the large muscle flex under your fingertips.

His thick fingers continue his ministration as you begin to climb higher and higher. Your walls begin to pulse and constrict his fingers. Sweat drips down his forehead as he continues to drive into your pussy with his deft fingers.

"You gonna cum on my fingers, love?" He teases, placing kisses all over your damp face.

"Yes, oh fuck. Please, please let me cum."

Simon grins against your neck, placing sloppy kisses all over. His fingers begin to speed up even faster, hitting your sweet spot with every effort. You feel the familiar tingling sensation begin to build in your core.

Your legs begin to tremble as you struggle to get air inside of your lungs. Panting harshly, you close your eyes as your orgasm starts to reach its peak.

His hand leaves your tits as they begin to rub circles on your clit. The combined assault on your clit and your pussy brings you over the edge.

"Look at me when you cum." Your eyes open immediately as you find him staring directly into yours. Your legs tremble deliciously, hands gripping Simon even tighter as you feel your orgasm wash over you. Mouth agape, your back continues to arch as Simon doesn't stop, overstimulating you with a few shallow thrusts.

Simon's hand was covered in your juices as he slowly withdraws them. Your pussy clenches, feeling empty. He brings his fingers to your mouth and taps your lips. Obediently, you open your lips and let him slide his fingers inside your mouth.

Circling your tongue all finger, your eyes begin to close again. When you blink them open, you see Simon's bare body hovering above yours. His cock was standing proudly, shiny with precum. You feel the urge to take his cock into your mouth. When your hand tries to reach for him, it's stopped by his firm grip.

"Next time, yeah? Need to fuck your pretty pussy, baby." He slowly pulls his fingers out of your mouth, wiping them on his hip. He repositions his cock at your pussy, sliding the head up and down your folds.

Tilting your head down, you see Simon's hand grip his cock firmly as it slowly rubs his precum all over your pussy. He groans seeing your juices mix together. Moving your hips upwards, you try to push his head in and he hisses.

He grabs your hips and gently lowers them on the bed. "You just lay there and take it, yeah? Let me do all the work." You preen, more than happy to lay there and see him move above you.

"Put it in, Si. Missed your cock so much." You whimper, pressing delicate kisses on his neck. He nudges your nose with his, capturing your lips into a kiss. Your moan gets interrupted by your own grunt of surprise as the head of his cock slips in.

His cock was thicker than his two fingers, with veins running all over the shaft rubbing your walls deliciously. You link your legs behind his waist, helping him push deeper.

When he's inside you, it's like two pieces of puzzle fitting together. His cock fit so perfectly inside you, as if you were made for him and him for you. You knew Simon was it for you a long time ago, falling head over heels so easily for the grumpy soldier. You weren't happy at how long it took him to come to his senses, but you're glad either way.

He thrusts slowly, going deeper with each shift of his hips. His tongue tangles with yours as wet noises fill the room. You know when he's pushed in to the hilt when you feel him bump against your cervix slightly. Your pussy clenches at the tiny pain, causing Simon to moan out.

"Fuck, you're squeezing me so well, sweetheart." He stays there for a moment, grinding his cock inside. You only stop kissing when you pull away to beg him to start moving. Both his hands are placed firmly on your hips when he begins thrusting.

He moves back and forth slowly, the walls of your pussy feeling every drag of his big cock. You hiss against his mouth, the sensation lights up every nerve in your body. You beg him to go faster but he ignores you, continuing to sink slowly.

When you're about to wail at the pace again, he thrusts sharply — his cock sinking deep into your pussy. You gasp, clawing his back when he continues to move slowly but going deep with each thrust. You can hear the sound of his balls smacking against your ass.

Your combined juices were dripping out of your pussy, causing wet noises whenever he moves inside you. You don't know how long he continues his brutal motion, your eyes dazed and breath unsteady.

You've never felt this way before. It feels as if he's everywhere inside you, there isn't a part of you that doesn't feel touched by him. He thrusts as if he's trying to imprint himself in you, trying to permanently leave a mark.

"Such a pretty pussy. Doing so well f' me, sweetheart. You gonna let me cum in you? Gonna let me fill you up nicely?" He grunts, his composure starting to unravel. His cock begins to piston in you messily as he loses himself in your pussy.

"Yes, yes, yes. Fuck, love you so much, Si. Need your cum in me." You cry out desperately, tightening your legs and pulling him deeper inside you.

"So good to me, love. Letting me cum in your pretty pussy." His form begins to shake slightly from exertion. You know his hands were going to bruise your hips from how hard he was gripping them but you couldn't care less.

Your body moves up and down from the force of his thrust. His cock touching your cervix with each delicious thrust. Your pussy begins to pulse wildly on his cock as you feel another orgasm build inside you. When his cock begins to pulse, your eyes roll to the back of your head as it sends you over the edge. You moan out his name loudly, pulling him by the neck to your chest as his arms hug you to him.

You feel his desperation and love when he holds you. He hugs you so tight to him your ribs ache. You never want this feeling to go away.

"I love you so much, fuck." Your orgasm triggers his own, his cock pulsing as his creamy load fills up your pussy. He's so snug inside your pussy the excess cum begins to drip out. When he stops unloading inside you, he moves slowly, thrusting a few times shallowly. A part of him wants to look at the way his seed drips from your pussy but he didn't want to move away from you.

You both pant with eyes closed as your breathing begins to even out. Simon slowly pulls out and you hiss at the feel of his cock leaving you empty. You look down and see his cock covered in his cum and yours.

Your head falls back down to the pillow, eyes closing shut. Simon stares at the ceiling and huff, righting himself. You feel him plant a kiss to your forehead as the bed dips.

"'M gonna go clean us up, yeah? You stay there." You hear him step into the bathroom, going to wash himself and grab a clean towel to clean up your mess. By the time he came back, you had already passed out, judging by the sound of your low snores.

He begins to wipe your thighs and try to dry the surrounding areas as best he can. He'll change the sheets later when you're well-rested. Simon climbs into bed, hugging you to him. He runs his fingers through your hair, slowly unknotting them one by one.

He stares at your sleeping from and grins. Lowering his lips to yours, he keeps them there for a few seconds.

"I love you."

You can only mumble in response, too tired to properly articulate the words.

"I love you too, Simon."

#simon riley smut #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley smut #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost smut #ghost x reader #cod smut #cod x reader #cod ghost x reader #simon riley #my writings

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nyx-umbrakinesis · 6 months ago

Text

Cw: threats to reader with a knife.

You're out for a walk in the woods, when you come across Alastor of all people, walking along, your eyes widen as he spots you at the exact moment you spot the bloody knife in his hand.

Startled, you step back and look around nervously before focusing on Alastor once more in horror.

You: "A-Alastor? W-What are you doing here?"

You try to keep your voice steady, innocent, heart pounding in your chest.

Alastor: "Why I just wanted some peace and quiet, my Dear, a nice calming walk, just as I'm sure was your purpose for being out at such an hour, hmm?"

Internally he berates himself, he had been courting you gradually and now this?! How... Sloppy.

Your eyes dart to the knife in his hand, fear creeping into your eyes, to Alastor's dismay but also advantage.

You: "W-Why do you have that?"

His smile grew wider as he saw the fear in your eyes.

Alastor: "Oh, this? Just something I carry around for protection."

He chuckles lightly, taking half a step closer to you.

Alastor: "But I must say, I wasn't expecting to see you here. It's quite a surprise, a pleasant one."

Alastor lies, trying to stop you from running, trying to charm his way into relaxing you.

Alastor: "I hope you don't mind if I join you, after all it'll be more safe and fun that way don't you think?"

Alastor's tone is filled with amusement. You feel nothing but terror in his presence right now, a hard contrast to the affable charming man you always felt at ease around before... Maybe even loved.

You take another step back, feeling uneasy about his proximity and the knife.

You: "I-I don't know, Alastor. I-I think I prefer being alone right now."

You swallow hard, trying to hide your anxiety. Despite your efforts to sound confident, your voice trembles slightly, betraying your fear.

You: "P-Please, just leave me alone."

You plead, breaking the pretense and hoping he would listen. Alastor tilted his head to the side, studying you intently, how interesting, you were certainly different than the others... Perhaps he wouldn't kill you... Yet.

Alastor: "Ah, but where's the fun in that?"

He took another step toward you, closing the distance between you two further, to your utter panic.

Alastor: "Besides, I don't think I can let such a rare opportunity slip away. A chance encounter with such a lovely morsel, in the middle of the woods, it's almost too perfect."

Alastor's voice is dripping with sarcasm, knowing exactly how to panic cornered prey into making mistakes.

You feel a chill run down your spine as Alastor steps even closer, your heart beating faster with every passing moment.

You: "P-Please, Alastor. I-I don't want any trouble."

You beg, taking another step back. Your foot hits a tree root, causing you to lose your balance and fall backward onto the damp ground

You: "Ahh!"

Landing on your back with a loud thud. As you fell, Alastor couldn't help but laugh at the sight. You really were making this too easy.

Alastor: "Oh, how clumsy of you."

He walked over to you, laugh echoing in the isolated area, bouncing off trees, no-one would ever find your body here.

Soon Alastor is standing above you knife glinting in the moonlight, you're frozen in fear, heart pounding in your chest, you try to scream for help but not a sound escapes, you're trapped in your own body, paralysed by your own pathetic weakness.

Alastor: "Now, what? Right! I believe I was about to join you."

Alastor smirked, lowering himself to sit on top of you, pinning you to the ground, almost like taking a seat for tea, before leaning over you, knife edge finding its way against your throat as tears well in your eyes.

Alastor: "Don't worry, I won't hurt you too much."

Alastor whispered in your ear, his breath hot against your skin, he even has the audacity to nip at the flesh there, reveling in the shiver that wracks your already shaking form.

Alastor's firm body presses to yours, so warm as you feel frozen, such a parody of how things used to be. You even whimper slightly at the sight of his dilated eyes and the bulge you were sure you felt twitch against your hip.

Alastor: "Now where was I? Ah yes... Threatening you."

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trendywaifus · 1 year ago

Text

↳ not in love, baby it’s just lust!

always look both ways and behind you when you walk at night.

↳ featuring, michael myers! jingliu

—cw, sub! fem! reader, jingliu has a cock, face fucking, murder mentioned, gagging, cursing, size–kink, death of a character, dub-con

the sounds of your heavy breathing and wheezing echoes through the narrow walls of the horribly lit alleyway. your limbs burned with exhaustion and you were on the verge of passing out from nonstop running. the hot tears you desperately tried to wipe away, continuously runs down your flushed cheeks. you meet face to face with a dead end, your blood runs cold. “ o-oh my fucking god!” you slammed your palm against the cold brick wall in frustration. “ i just did a dumb white girl move, why did i even turn into this alleyway?! “

you whipped around, hoping to scramble out of the narrow space before your pursuer comes. you halted after a few steps in upon seeing the tall shadow of a silhouette steadily approaching towards your only escape route out. “ o-of course the motherfucker shows up. .! “ you muttered harshly, watching in horror as the looming figure stands tall at the entrance of the alleyway. your eyes trails down to what looks like to be a knife in their hand. “ oh fuck, i’m going to die because i wanted to buy a bag of shitty candy from the shitty corner store at night. .”

they began to approach, taking slow, calculated steps towards you. the knife twirls in their hand almost playfully as you backed up, frantically looking around for a weapon to use. “ last w-words of advice, if you’re interested in a woman, h-how about you not follow them and try to kill them, mister i. .—miss?” you were at a loss of words as her appearance became more visible under the shitty flickering lights. she had on a familiar worn–out fox mask, rivers of white hair flowed down her shoulders from underneath it. she wore a grey coverall jumpsuit that shaped her fit body.

“ th-this somehow got worse—you were the one who was following me? i seriously just heard about you on the news last night. god, i’m so fucked! “ you sobbed, forcing yourself up against the wall. a man by the name of yingxing was brutally murdered in his own home yesterday in broad daylight. it’s so happen that a witness caught a few glimpses of the masked killer somewhere outside the home after the murder and was able to give the police a distinctive description of her. why did you have to be the one to confirm it’s accurate in the worst way possible?

swallowed by her presence as she now towers over your figure, her dull red eyes peers down at you through the slits of the mask, amused by your pathetic mental breakdown. she raises her knife up and you instinctively closed your eyes shut, waiting for the sharp pain to come. instead, a cool metal gently brushes against your cheek, wiping away stray tears. you flinched, opening your eyes to stare at the masked woman with confusion.

“ d-did you just. . .? “ she tilts her head, letting out a low chuckle at your cute reaction. your brows furrowed, she’s either fucking with you or—she actually took your advice? “ maybe i won’t die tonight if i play my cards right. .” you whispered. taking a deep breath, you mustered up a tight-lipped smile. “ i-i heard a lot about you, including your name. jing. .liu, correct? “ she stares at you for a moment before slowly nodding.

“ you have such a beautiful name and you seem like a. .reasonable woman, jingliu. i actually want to go home since it’s like late at night and i think my mother is worried about me. you wouldn’t mind stepping aside so i can go, right? you’re kind of blocking the way—n-not to be rude. .”

jingliu says nothing, nor did she move aside to allow you to pass. instead, she takes a step forward, practically sandwiching you between her and the wall. you yelped, placing your palms against her stomach. it’s safe to assume that she did not want you to leave nor was she interested in killing you. her calloused hand cups your cheek, caressing the skin tenderly. you laughed nervously, “ i-i guess you already taken a liking to me. fucking perfect. “

your breath hitches as she leans down to your face, the rough texture of the mask grazes your cheek. you shifted uncomfortably against her, earning a soft groan. “ s-sorry? why did you make that—oh.” a soft bulge rubs against your thigh, causing you to stiffen up. jingliu swiftly tosses the knife to the side, the metal object hits the asphalt with a loud clang. her hands lands on your hips, forcing them to grind against hers. “ e-easy, easy, jingliu! “ you gasped, holding back a soft moan. fuck, a small adjustment easily triggered her?

she grunts, easing her grip on your hips but her movements doesn’t falter. “ sh-shit. . “ arousal shamelessly stirs in your belly, slowly dragging you into a mess of dirty thoughts about the feral woman. she hastily pulls up her mask, just enough to free the lower half of her face and smashed her lips against yours. the searing kiss was nothing but tongue and teeth. she easily overpowered you, not caring about bruising your lips. her hands journeys up your sides, wishing to explore every nook and cranny of your body.

her tongue hungrily explores your warm cavern, swallowing your whimpers. lust consumes you whole, trapping you in its hold and starts plucking away at any rational thought you had about the reality of the current situation. without hesitation, your hand slides down her stomach and squeezed at the hardened bulge. a deep growl emits from jingliu’s throat, she rolls her hips against your palm. “ god, it went from wanting to go home to wanting to fuck a suspected serial killer. ” you breathed, unzipping the jumpsuit from under the waistband, freeing her cock from its restraints.

jingliu’s lips parts as she laughs huskily at the irony. she firmly sets her hand on your shoulder and easily pushes you down to your knees. she hooks her hand on the back of your head, urging you to open your mouth. you complied, allowing her length to slide inside. her breath hitches, taken aback by how good you feel. your jaw tenses as jingliu fully pushes herself in until the tip was kissing the back of your throat.

suddenly, she jerks her hips forward, forcing her cock down your throat causing you to gag. she pulls back before doing it again. each time, it gets deeper and sloppy until she’s repeatedly fucking your tight throat without a care in the world. series of throaty moans and sounds of wet squelching fills the empty night sky. drool runs down your chin as you struggled to accommodate her size and pace. your palms pressed against her thighs to at least cease her speed but she was far more stronger than you.

her cock twitches in your mouth, signaling her inevitable climax. throwing her head back in pure ecstasy, she thrusts into your mouth one final time before loads of cum shoots down your throat. jingliu doesn’t pull out until she’s sure you’ve swallowed everything. once she was satisfied, she releases your head, finally allowing you to cough and breathe properly.

“ fuck. . “ you cursed, massaging your tense jaw. jingliu snatches you up by the forearm and pulls you up without warning. she presses you back into the wall, peppering your face with feverish kisses. her deft hands find themselves unbuttoning your jeans and pulling them down to your ankles for you to kick off. her eyes looks you up and down hungrily, gaze lingering on your bare legs and panties. she places her hands on your sides and easily lifts you up from off the ground. you yelp, circling your legs around her waist.

she smirks at you, sliding your panties to the side to push her drool—covered cock inside your cunt. you both moan in sync as your walls clamp around her. “ l-let me adjust—nngh! “ ignoring your request, jingliu sinks you down to the hilt, completely filling you up. she pants heavily into your ear, retracting her hips back before thrusting right in again. “ s’big, i-i c-can’t! “ you moaned, pushing at her shoulders.

she holds you tighter and moves away to send you a threatening look. her once blank ruby eyes were wild, glistening with unadulterated lust. the masked woman finally uses her tongue to speak, her voice was raspy and low as she growled,

“ don’t. .push . .me. .away . ! “

#trendy #jingliu x reader #jingliu #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail #honkai star rail smut #hsr smut #honkai star rail women x reader

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ofoceansandtombsanew · 7 months ago

Text

it flows and it flows and it flows

cw. selfship-coded, f!reader (no specified anatomy), pre-canon, pre-relationship, childhood friend au, reader eats a defined devil fruit, love as sacrifice, denial of feelings + mutual pining, vulture culture mention

pairing. portgas d. ace x black!fem!reader

synopsis. as a hydrophiliac, eating a devil fruit is a horrifying thought. as a pirate, eating a devil fruit is an incredibly dumb decision. you'll gladly embrace the horrors and stupidity to keep your loved ones safe.

notes. the way i planned on writing something else for my next childhood friend au installment but this decided it would be making a cameo first whoops. cover comes from monet's impression, sunrise (1872) it just reminds me of ace.

For its moniker of Faerie Faerie Fruit, it isn’t pretty to look at.

The name itself invokes the imagery of translucent wings, tinkling laughter and pixie dust at your fingertips. The fruit in your hands invokes anything but the aforementioned. No, this fruit seems more akin to invoking something out of your nightmares with its gray and pruny peel. All the more damning is the way the face of the fruit is caved in, like a woman in mourning.

According to the encyclopedia you’d skimmed through, once upon a time, this isn’t even the ugliest the Faerie Faerie Fruit can achieve. That has been allocated to the sickly green Goblin model. Knowing this does nothing to quell how unsettling the fruit in your hands is to look at. A fitting feeling for Model Banshee, the variant of the Faerie Faerie Fruit that had fallen in your hands on this most recent adventure across the Moss Isles.

“You should eat it!” Wallace insisted at dinner with a sharp-toothed grin, holding his keg of beer in your direction. “Then the Spades'll finally have a power holder besides the captain!”

Ace squinted at the good-natured fishman with an offended pout, leaning over as best as he could with Kotatsu on his lap. “So I’m not good enough now, Wallace?” The gray lynx mewed, disgruntled at the movement and Ace settled down. “It’s nice to know how you really feel!” In spite of his words, Ace’s lips were curled into a smile as he snickered. He blended perfectly against the Grand Line’s reddening sky, carmine and vermillion painted against the clouds.

“Won’t it be confusing to have two banshees on the ship though,” you asked with a half-smile in return, nodding in the direction of the strawberry blonde. At the mention of her name, the woman grinned at you impishly.

“Maybe you should sell it to me then,” the ginger nodded in satisfaction at the thought. “Then I really would be a banshee!”

“You want it?” You leaned over with intrigued.

As quickly as she brought it up, Banshee shot it down, “no offense to Ace, but if I’m gonna be a pirate,” she gestured beyond the borders of the Spadille, to the sea itself. “I want the security of knowing I won’t drown if I fall into the ocean.” A chorus of laughter followed as Ace whined that his eating the Flame Flame Fruit had only been an accident. A very unforeseen accident.

In one exchange, you were brought back to square one.

You sigh, unable to help a few chuckles. It’s only luck your time on Sixis Island didn’t result in you losing your ability to swim then when you unknowingly bit into the Flame Flame Fruit. Being the first to bite into it, only Ace received any abilities from it. As much as he hadn’t been prepared to eat the thing, however, you can admit it is an ability that suits him.

Ace is like a flame that draws in anyone lucky enough to notice its glow. You want more and more people to see it and relish the warmth of your friend as much as you do.

That doesn’t mean you want to necessarily join him in the ranks of being cursed to drown should you fall into a body of water. Eat, sell or toss it back into the depths for someone else to discover. Those are the only options for a person who finds a devil fruit.

“You shouldn’t eat it anyway,” Ace told you softly when the conversation moved on to a different topic. “You love swimming.”

You love water as easily as you breathe. It has been one of your best friends since your childhood on Dawn Island.

You remember jumping into crocodile infested rivers.

You can hear Luffy’s sniffles as he clung to you desperately. How Sabo sighed, “Can’t you become one with the water in a way that doesn’t look like you drowned?” How Ace, whose face donned more scowls than smiles at 10, rasped a fist against your head in agreement and ranting all the while.

You recall the cool of the returning tide as you looked for seashells on the beach. Then you’d take each one back to Dadan’s, resting them beside your growing collection of unconventional treasures of mummified paws, empty turtle shells and dissected owl pellets. Seashells and stones were the bones of the sea and earth respectively, your grandfather had told you once, so they belonged with your treasure trove as much as any of your other finds.

I wonder if Dadan’s tossed all that out by now, you wonder vaguely. Well if she does, I hope she doesn’t touch my eggs. Protect ‘em for me, Luffy. You remember the beaming haul of large anaconda eggs you’d painted over after Dadan cracked them open for breakfast. There had been four for each of you.

A yellow egg for Luffy, a red egg for Ace and blue for Sabo before you finally painted one over in your own favorite color. You think Sabo’s egg is the collective favorite of the members of your quartet that remain.

It’s only been 7 months or so since you left your life on Dawn Island but it feels like it has been years. Yet throughout it all, the ocean had been a steady companion.

You love it as an extension of your very being.

And yet…

Sloppily drawn eggs and raucous laughter filling the air when you should have been sleeping flood your mind. Your eyes rest on the creepy fruit resting in your hand once again. You don’t necessarily desire joining Ace and Luffy in the ranks of incurring the disdain of the sea, truly. But-

“Flameo, Hotman,” you say suddenly at the approaching heat and footsteps that announce Ace’s presence before his words can.

Ace grins as he rests his arms on the edge of the Spadille, “how’d you know it was me,” he asks unnecessarily, sea breeze running its invisible fingers through his wavy locks. Your eyes crinkle from how you smile at the sight.

You nudge him carefully, fingers tightening slightly over the fruit in your hands, “I felt the furnace getting closer and closer.”

Ace snorts, signature grin on his face. It should feel stranger, seeing him smile so much when he tended to frown and furrow his brow constantly when you were children, but it doesn’t. Smiles suit Ace more than any other expression you’ve seen him have in the past. “What are you over here thinking about?” His eyes dart to the fruit in your hands. “Are you gonna throw it back?”

“It certainly crossed my mind,” you admit with a shrug. Maybe if you hadn’t stopped to think about the past, you would have. The fact you hesitated is more than enough of a sign that your heart hadn’t been into the idea. “I changed my mind, though.”

“What does it do anyway?” Ace poked the wrinkly face with a curious finger.

“Banshees are supposed to be some kind of faerie of death,” you think back to your base information you know about the beings the fruit derives its name. “When someone is gonna die soon, they scream and keen to let people know. But that’s about all that’s really known about ‘em. When you think about it, it kinda suits me, huh?” He hums thoughtfully, looking at the thing deeply and you continue on. “Remember when you gave me my first turtle shell?”

The freckled man’s face softens with a nostalgic smile, “Dadan said boys are supposed to give girls flowers not corpses.” You can hear the cranky woman’s voice even now, exasperated at how you excitedly twirled with the item in your hand. She never quite understood your interest in vulture culture but beside the odd complaint, she never discouraged it.

“I thought it was pretty cool,” you snicker in return. “But you probably should default to flowers whenever you find someone you like. I don’t know if they’d be as appreciative as me.” Whoever that person is, they’ll be lucky. You disregard the strange itch in your chest and thoughts of sky blue hair as Ace rolls his eyes with a chuckle. He may think the idea of someone loving him is ludicrous but he’s an idiot when it comes to such notions.

Portgas D. Ace is special and deserves to be loved in a special way. He will be, someday.

With a sigh, you turn so your back is facing the edge of the ship rather than your front. “Anyways,” you divert the topic back to the former. “I have to admit that it’s pretty useful, objectively thinking. There’s a lot of people out there who wanna avoid death like the plague.” Your heart clenches uncomfortably once more, albeit for a reason you can discern.

Ace nods at your words, “it’ll definitely go for a lot when we get to the next island. So try not to accidentally drop it now that you’ve decided you won’t be doing it intentionally.”

“Oh shut up,” you snort but not unkindly.

But he’s right, this would probably go for a shit ton, not that you know how many berries most devil fruit go for on the market. A devil fruit that grants its user the ability to sense death, however, certainly is above the average.

A smile missing a tooth comes to mind and you have to stop yourself from squeezing additional indents into the Faerie Faerie Fruit. The rough hands of your grandfather covering your own as he shows you how hook a worm follows.

Sabo and Grandpa are gone, there’s no bringing them back.

There are people you love who are still here though, your thumb brushes against the face of the fruit. Indented in anguish as it silently screams for the imminent loss of life. You glance at Ace who is content to stare out at the waves carrying the crew to its next destination. You feel yourself smiling again before you can stop yourself, wistful.

You love the water, it’s as easy as breathing. It’s been your best friend for as long as you could remember.

You remember listening with giddy awe to your grandfather recounting how taking you out the bath as a baby was nigh impossible unless the tub was empty first.

You can hear Makino’s panic as you groggily wake up, realizing you fell asleep in the midst of your floating. Your head hung sheepishly as she scolded you, voice uncharacteristically sharp about the dangers of falling asleep in the ocean. “Heaven forbid the sea king was around!”

You recall the shared panic of Luffy falling underneath a lake’s surface, you, Ace and Sabo diving after him in unison.

If you could become the ocean itself, you’d gladly do so and let your limbs dissolve into it and feel the pulse of every living creature residing within.

Another sigh slips from your lips as you look over your shoulder at the sunset-stained gem the Piece of Spadille sails across. I’m really going to miss being in it. You don’t necessarily want the curse eating a devil fruit will bring, but even if you can’t swim in it anymore you will find ways to still enjoy it.

With solidified determination, you bite into the ominous fruit resting in your hands without a second thought.

At your movement, Ace looks in your direction.

His eyes go from inquisitive to as wide as dinner plates in the span of seconds, calling out your name in frantic surprise. “What are you doing?!” Large, freckled hands reach for you and you side step him immediately before breaking into a run. “Spit it out!”

God this tastes awful, you nearly gag but you force yourself to swallow the piece anyway. Hearing heavy boots chasing after you, you bite into the wrinkled fruit once more. Just in case the first bite doesn’t take.

“Um, [First]?” You barely hear Deuce’s confused reaction. “Ace?”

“Can you stop Ace for me? Thanks!” You call back to the masked man.

“Stop her from being an idiot!” Ace shouts after you.

The Masked Deuce smartly decides being neutral is his only course of action. “You guys figure it out! We’ll, uh, we’ll be over here!”

You could squeal from how close he is but you manage to bite into the foul-tasting flesh a final time before warm arms wrap around your waist, preventing further escape. You swallow instinctively.

“[First]!” You pull against how he tries to grapple your possession from your hands. Try as you might, you aren’t able to get a fourth bite in. You squeeze your eyes shut, not that it does much but it does prevent you from seeing what is undoubtedly an Ace with a frown.

“Can’t spit out anything,” you cry before Ace can start that up once again. It is far too late for the man to do anything about your consuming the Faerie Faerie Fruit. “I already bit into the shit three times!”

“But why?!” Ace asks incredulously.

“Because it’s useful! I’m not giving this sort of ability up!” You stop wriggling, knowing it is redundant when you’ve already done what you’ve set out to do. “I just,” you open your eyes, downcast. “I don’t want to lose anyone else I care about.”

If you were to ever sense Ace or Luffy’s deaths, it will break you. At least you know in those moments, you’ll be able to do something about it. There doesn’t have to be anymore Grandpas or Sabos, not for you. Not if you can stop it. You’ll gladly eat a dozen more Faerie Faerie Fruits if it gives you any ability to keep them safe.

There’s a pause then a groan of resignation as your feet touch the deck again. I guess there’s no point in eating anymore of this, you look at what remains of the fruit. You aren’t sure exactly how it will change you in ways beyond a newly acquired death ping. You resign yourself to eating the rest regardless.

The silence isn’t entirely uncomfortable but it isn’t comfortable either, it just is. There’s nothing else that can be done about your decision.

“You can’t ever take this back, you know,” his voice is soft.

“I know,” you murmur after the last of the devil fruit has been eaten. “I don’t need the ocean like that anyway.” You will find new ways to enjoy it. Finally you turn to look at the man who has been your closest friend since you were 10. You were practically family. Family, that’s right. Family looks out for each other. You are going to look out for Portgas D. Ace whether he likes it or not, you promised yourself this after you met Old Man Naguri.

Even as Ace looks at you with equal parts acceptance and sorrow on your behalf, you think the sacrifice is worth it. It’s bitter but the sweet in your chest outweighs it.

“That’s one more thing we have in common,” you try to lighten the mood. “Paramecia and Logia differences aside.”

Ace sighs but he gives you a snicker of courtesy, “I would have been fine with us not having this in common.”

“Eeeh, you’ll get over it.” I’ll get over it, you chuckle, turning back to face the horizon. The sun’s almost been swallowed entirely by the sea and there are more things dotting the sky than you remember there being a few minutes ago. Your eyes widen at the ghastly image of whales swimming through the skies as if unaware their time has passed many moons ago.

Whales, stingrays, sharks and unidentifiable fish as far as you can see.

A silent procession across the Grand Line only for your newly acquired eyes. It almost makes you want to cry.

“Is everything alright,” Ace draws you back in, eyebrows knit in concern.

You wonder if Grandpa and Sabo’s ghosts are gallivanting about Dawn Island.

“Yeah.”

#look she's writing #one piece x reader #op x reader #ace x reader #portgas d ace x reader #one piece #portgas d ace #i just have been brainrotting a lot about this man #him his freckles his large hands his warm skin #look it's self shipping hours #sea otters #flaming pearls #one piece imagines #op imagines #flaming pearls (sea otters)#ace x black!reader #x black!reader

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fandom-wreck-9000 · 2 years ago

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Welcome home my Darling new neighbor (Wally Darling x Reader) Yandere Fic

CW: Scopophobia, stalking, and kidnapping.

Chapter 2: Welcome home

You slightly woke up your eyes still feeling heavy, so you didn’t try to open them, you felt as if you couldn't move your body maybe you were still tired, but you could still hear, and the only thing penetrating your ears was the eerie noise of a heartbeat and something breathing all around you… You could still slightly feel, although it was as if your sense of touch was numbed. The most you could make out from what little sense of touch you had was that you were laying in a bed with soft heavy covers. due to your mind still being fuzzy with sleep, you couldn’t remember much of what happened before this moment of waking up… all you could remember was being picked up and basically being kidnapped before this moment of sleepy paralysis. This all felt like some kind of nightmare more specifically a sleep paralysis nightmare.

You decided to try and put your mind back to sleep but before you could, you hear a door open and someone walking in closer to you… You had the familiar feeling of fear in your body although it couldn’t paralyze you any more than you already were, you heard them place something down next to you on a hard surface most likely a nightstand… You could slightly feel the slight weight shift of the bed as they sat down next to you, you could feel them staring it felt so familiar, they touched your face which sent a shiver down your spine… Who the fuck was this person? “(M/N) it's time to wake up.” Their voice spoke softly it seemed monotoned, and creepy yet soothing. it took some might but you eventually managed to open your eyes, and they widened in horror as you saw a puppet sitting before you staring straight into your eyes. As soon as you saw that familiar face all the memories came flooding back with a force, it gave you a headache… And made you even more dizzy and sick than you already were because of the fear you felt… It was Wally Darling…

You tried to sit up and hit him scream and get away, but you couldn’t now being more awake you could tell just how weird your body felt and how much more difficult it was to just move it, you could only do tiny movements like move your fingers, toes, and your head a little bit. “Now now just relax you’re still getting used to your new body friend.” He said that smile you first thought was adorable and cute now seemed absolutely horrifying, and your eyes traveled to look at your arms which your once (S/C) human skin, was now (S/C) colored felt… You could tell your face showed the pure fear and horror you felt for what Wally said next. “No need to be scared friend your in good hands you are safe with me within home.” You became confused what did he mean by ‘within home’? He didn’t answer that as he helped you sit up as your body was still hard to move, your eyes moved to the nightstand which was right by the bed. What was placed onto it by Wally was a tray with food and water, you had no idea how you would eat it since you were now a puppet with supposedly no digestive system.

He apparently saw you stare at the tray with confusion and he grabbed the cup of water and spoke. “You can still drink and kinda eat you just don’t really need to but since there are still some changes happening to your body and you're getting used to your new body, I thought you could use the extra energy boost. But soon you won’t need to eat or drink anymore!” he said bringing the glass of water to your felt lips and gently opening your mouth with his hand so you could ‘drink’ it when you drank some to your own surprise, he placed it back down on the tray. You had to admit it mentally since you couldn’t really vocally admit it and frankly didn’t want to, the water slightly helped you gain some energy. During this entire interaction Wally has not stopped staring at you the only time he looked away was when he went to grab the water and place it back down, it freaked you out how much he stared at you… Especially now since he’s kidnapped you… His eyes were like empty black voids as he intensely stared at you. You also still heard the sound of a beating heart and breathing, but you decided to try and ignore it as best you can, even though it was creepy… especially for the fact that it wasn’t coming from you or Wally…

Wally seemed to be staring into your eyes with the same intensity as the day before, it was unnerving… “I’m really glad your pretty (E/C) eyes stayed even after your form changed to accommodate my world… so very glad… your eyes and yourself are the absolute most after all…” He said in his soothing monotone voice as he continued to stare, you shifted the gaze of your eyes uncomfortably. “I have to go 'cause I have stuff to do today but just rest, Friend 'cause you need to be at your best… remember you are the absolute most.” He said he got up from the bed and he blew you a kiss before leaving the room and soon the house itself, now by yourself, you sat in the bed terrified and scared you gripped the sheets with the little strength you had… how did you get into this situation why you? You felt tears gather in your eyes somehow but you didn’t pay mind to it you just wanted out, you just wanted to get back home… you didn’t want to be here anymore…

After a few hours, you were finally able to move your arms and upper body so you turned to pick up the tray that was on the nightstand looking at the food itself… it seemed less than edible… it seemed to be an attempt at french toast, but the toast wasn’t fully cooked and it seemed that the egg that was on it was still raw, there was also bacon but that was burnt to nothing but charcoal… the only thing that seemed edible was the berries, so you decided to slowly eat those because as time passed… it started to feel like your stomach was being filled with stuffing… I guess he was right about the fact you soon wouldn’t need to be eating or drinking soon anymore… you placed the tray back on the nightstand and continued to sit on the bed, still not having the energy to move your legs…

A few more hours passed and you were finally able to move your legs, so you moved so you could try to stand up from the bed, as you did you heard the front door open. You quickly stood up of course as you did you felt dizzy and your legs felt like complete jello but you grabbed the lamp that was on the nightstand and stood your ground, the ominous steps toward the room you were in frightened you… Your grip on the lamp was relentless. You heard the house creak and squeak, the steps slowed down as they stopped in front of the door to the room you were in… The door started to slowly open so you started to rush forward but you underestimated how wobbly your legs were because not even two steps forward and you tripped over your own feet and dropped the lamp, before you fell face first you heard quick footsteps toward you, and someone caught you and you knew who it was exactly. Looking up you saw Wally his stare seemed kinda angry but he helped you up and hugged you tightly to him, his face resting on your shoulder he held you tightly so tightly that you could barely move your arms away from him… but you were still too weak to fully fight back against him.

“Friend it’s okay Stop being so scared and freaking out… you almost fell and hurt yourself there you still need some rest… Let's put you back in bed friend…” He said as he picked you up with ease and put you back into the bed, sitting next to you again, back to staring at you…

You were stuck here, weren’t you?

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#welcome home wally x reader #welcome home #welcome home puppet show #wallyxreader #wally darling x reader #wally darling #fanfic writer #fanfic #fanfiction writer #fanfiction #yandere #yandere fic

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angel-of-the-moons · 1 year ago

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A Rose Under The Moon

Moon Knight System (Marc, Jake, Steven) x Fem!Reader

TW/CW: Angst. Angst angst angst! Mentions of childhood trauma, child abuse, self-doubt

A/N: I'm sorry this took so long guys, I've been going through... well, a lot lately and it pained me because I wanted to work on so much but I've been so emotionally-burnt out I've been struggling creatively (Yet again falling into the age-old trap of "My stuff is never as good as ___'s" that many of us struggle with)

But I'm hoping, that with this, I can start to feel a bit better!

Taglist: @bad4amficideas @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @shirukitsune @lokisremainingsanity @mundivagantsoul @furblrwurblr @zoleea-exultant @latenightcravingz @daygirl26 @thelastemzy @leahnicole1219 @marsmallow433 @crazyunsexycool @oscarissac2099 @littlenosoul @animechick555 @capsiclesworldsblog @cloudroomblog @lov3vivian @princessakirika

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Chapter 10:

On The Wings Of An Icarus

Jake knew Layla still didn’t fully trust him, based on his propensity for violence. Hell, he wouldn’t be surprised if she downright hated him, and only tolerated him and spoke politely to save face, for Marc and Steven’s sake.

But, god help him if he didn’t go all out after that night; the night he noticed your soul mark. He showed no mercy on those that Khonshu dispensed him after. Layla practically had to knock him out to get him off; and if he didn’t reign in his control when he did, Marc and Steven would have known something was up. That calm, cool, and collected Jake had cracked because of something and he knew they would attempt to either front or co-front to find out what had shaken him so.

He fisted the glass in his gloved hand, reigning himself in just enough to avoid cracking it.

Three crescent moons, all connected. Each one waxing or waning depending on who was in control of their body or simply co-fronting. You said so yourself.

God, who else could that be referencing if not he, Marc, and Steven? He doubted it was just a goddamned coincidence.

It killed him that he had to keep it a secret from the two of them, but he had no choice. It hurt worse knowing that he wouldn’t be able to tell you–probably never.

You were so… so close. And so far. Like a mirage of an oasis in the desert, always on the horizon, tangible enough to see but not close enough to touch, to hold in his hands.

But… even if they couldn't approach you as their soulmate... Jake could at least let Marc and Steven have you as their friend. Maybe that would assuage the tugging he already knew that they felt.

He had to think of an excuse for if–when–they noticed your mark… Steven would most likely notice it first; he had a habit of looking anywhere else other than someone’s face when he conversed with them, picking at his oversized sleeves and keeping his eyes moving while over-informative words poured from his mouth. Marc was… less observant to such things.

But he would definitely notice if he spent more time with you (not as significantly as Steven does, but still), Marc would get comfortable, enough to let his eyes wander, to open himself up to you. After all… you were their soulmate, it was only natural to feel safe enough around the other half of your very existence, to let your guard down. It was a dangerous game Jake was betting on, being so close to you. He wanted to keep you away, to keep you safe.

But… was it so wrong they have this? Even just a friend? All the horrors they'd been subjected to, the pain, the abuse, the loss… Would it still be so bad to have you, even in that tiny capacity?

But at the same time… if Khonshu tried to use you as leverage–assuming he didn't already know about you–he wouldn't be able to contain himself if something happened under Khonshu’s supervision, as lax as it could be at times.

If someone hurt you? Fuck, he would snap.

He would fight and keep fighting until whoever it was was a bloody mass of pulp and bone fragments.

He looked into his glass of bourbon, a smoky honey flavor that tasted like it had been aged close to a decade. A bit pricey, given the pub he was at, but he needed something right now, something strong enough to numb his mounting anxiety.

His hand slid beneath his jacket to touch his shirt, his gloved fingers knotting in the crisp white fabric as he remembered the night when that human trafficker stabbed him, and he subsequently ripped the knife out.

He'd apologized to you, then, without realizing it was you he apologized to, for being so reckless.

But now that he knew... the guilt came back. How could he be so reckless? So foolhardy as to not take note of his surroundings to prevent that?

You could feel each other's pain. That realization made the abuse he and Marc–and even Steven to a degree–suffered with as a child even worse. The pain your tiny, frail body probably felt–the burns, the welts, the patches of ripped out curls…

He remembered, when he first came into existence; when it got too bad, he would front momentarily to take the worst of the injuries Wendy would inflict upon their poor young body. Marc didn't even know what was happening in the beginning, nor did Steven.

But Jake always knew.

It was like his burden, his own personal curse as the protector. He was cursed with the knowledge that he knew things he couldn't tell others, to protect everyone around him.

Marc, Steven, Layla…

And now you, it seemed.

How could he…

“Jake?” Layla asked, her hand gripping his thick forearm in her small, soft hand, her dark brows pinched upwards in concern. “You were… spacing. Looked like you were thinking about killing someone.” She added.

Jake pinched the bridge of his nose tightly, hissing between his teeth. He could feel it, Marc–or perhaps Steven–threatening to swim to the surface of their headspace to investigate the turmoil and inner upset Jake was overthinking on.

“Lo siento.” He muttered, looking at her for a moment before tipping the glass and downing the last mouthful of bourbon before continuing. “I was…”

“Thinking about her. I can tell.” She admitted, turning her barstool so she could face him, her lips pursed in a thin line.

This was difficult. With Marc and Steven, Layla always knew an approach. But with Jake, she never bothered to learn one. She didn't trust him–not fully, yet–so she never felt the need. From how she found out about him, how the other two figured out that they weren’t the only two inhabiting the body… He never really gave Layla an “in”, so to speak; to learn more and break past those emotional barriers that crumbled when she spoke to Marc or Steven. Damn him and his apparent emotional stoicism!

But seeing just how tortured she finally realized he felt… yeah, Jake did bad things on behalf of that old codger, Khonshu, but…

He carried so much weight on his own shoulders, withheld so much pain to protect others that he may as well have been Atlas, doomed to carry the world on his back for all eternity, never being able to shirk the weight like the mythological person.

It dawned on her, that night on the rooftop over your shop and flat, just how little she truly knew about Jake Lockley.

She didn't know anything she didn't want to know, even from Marc or Steven's mouth. It was just her way, after her father died and Marc fell into her life; to not ask too many questions so she could sleep just a wink better than the nights before.

Jake was violent, scary, methodical… but was he really? Or did she just paint him that way to justify her distrust over the fact Khonshu still used him as Moon Knight and used him to rope poor Marc and Steven back into the role as his Fist?

He wasn't some scary boogeyman, he was… a guy. A guy who loved his “brothers”, his friends, who protected–and loved–fiercely and with his whole being. A man now struggling with the weight of flinging himself into the very instincts so many throughout their lives craved to feel when they finally found their soulmate, or simply denying the possible bliss of being cradled in your loving arms, spending the rest of your lives together…

“Sí, it's… I'm trying to think of a way to keep Marc and Steven in the dark. Maybe if… if I just let them think of her as a friend...” He sighed.

Layla frowned. Okay that was another reason that reminded her why she didn't fully trust him, yet. The fact he was willing to hide such important things from Marc and Steven to “protect” them.

Yes, it was important to protect them, but some things are just inevitable, bound to be found out.

It's the difference between ripping off a bandage or pulling a child out of a clean room.

Pulling off the bandage, yeah, it'll hurt for a moment but it will pass.

However, if you put a child inside of a sterile bubble, the moment that bubble bursts, their immune system will be compromised and they won't be able to adjust to the changing environment around them…

“Jake… sometimes you just have to rip off the band-aid.” Layla replied. “You won't be able to hide this–hide her–from them forever.”

He wiped at his face, and made a frustrated groan. The buzz of the alcohol did little to ease his concerns. After all, once he took up the mantle tonight, his buzz would evaporate like dew beneath the summer sun. Not that London saw much of that these days.

“I know, Layla. I'm just… trying to buy time.”

“Jake… when it comes to your soulmate…” Layla said, giving him a sympathetic look.

“You don't have enough money in the world to do that. It will happen. Whether you're all ready for it or not.”

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Jake hadn't slept well that night. Marc and Steven needed a break, so they were still in the back of his mind, in the headspace, not really conscious of what Jake had been doing inside the body. They thankfully agreed to let Jake assume control, to give his headmates a much-needed break.

“Just like old times?” Layla had quipped sardonically, and, of course, Jake had to pretend the comment didn't hurt him at all. It did, but… he still didn't want her to feel bad about saying it.

Sure, he's done questionable and sometimes horrible things, but it was all for them. Marc, Steven, Layla, innocent people, and now… you.

Beautiful, sweet, oblivious you.

He'd started coming to your shop more, under the excuse that you had good coffee (which honestly you begged to differ, it was merely stuff you bought in bulk at the market) and the quiet atmosphere was more relaxing than a regular cafe; which even you agreed was rather dead. Many people didn’t stop in for a cuppa when simply buying old sci-fi novels…

Jake had even gone so far as to bring the stacks of books that Steven had been meaning to bring to you for a trade-in credit, just for another excuse to come in to see you.

It was all to keep you safe, to make sure nobody bothered you, to make sure you were doing okay.

He promised himself there was nothing less.

But even so, you were the candle flame to his moth, and he was drawn to you.

Drawn to you, but knowing if they got too close or touched you, they would burn, and there would be no going back once they did. What was that saying about flying too close to the sun?

He just… he couldn't let any of you know that he knew. As painful as it was to admit, he was already falling for you and he couldn’t bear to face it for fear of throwing caution to the wind and losing it all.

Not until today, not until he went to the market down the block, in search of something to cook for dinner. It was pouring outside, despite the forecasters saying to expect sleet. No, no, of course it wouldn't be sleet. It was just freezing cold rain. Rain that felt like tiny frozen icicles hitting his skin in fat droplets.

He shook his jacket, the droplets falling from the leather and onto the large carpet beneath his feet at the entrance. After that, Jake pulled his cap back up and nodded politely to the greeter and proceeded his way inside. He was craving something, but wasn’t sure what. Something with a little kick, something with meat. So, undecided on what in particular he wanted to eat, he settled for wandering the aisles, randomly picking up items here and there, pretending to read the labels until he made up his fractured mind.

“Jake? Jake Lockley?”

His head whipped up so quickly he almost felt his vertebrae snap when he lifted his eyes to meet yours, innocent and twinkling as you appeared so sure of your guess. You were instinctively right, of course, but the inner jokester within him was tempted to fake Marc’s voice to mess with you.

He shoved his hands into his jeans–mostly to conceal how badly they were shaking–and tossed you what he hoped was a charming, convincing smirk, “Ah. Caught me red-handed, Rosa. How’d you guess?”

“Well, aside from the fact you’re wearing your trademarked hat and jacket…” You playfully tapped your nose and winked at him. “...You look like you just caught a whiff of–and stepped in--horse shit.”

Jake couldn’t suppress himself, chuckling and shaking his head, “That’s a… unique way of putting it.”

“I’m full of surprises!” You beamed proudly, “So, what’re you here for? I don’t think I’ve bumped into you here, before!”

“Ah, I’m here to… well, find something to eat. Or well, more accurately, something to cook to eat.” He sighed and tipped his head. “I might just buy a frozen dinner and call it a night.”

The offended gasp his comment elicited from you made butterflies flitter about in his belly. He felt like a teenager talking to the popular girl he had a crush on in school.

“Oh no you will not! So many of those have awful preservatives and just aren’t healthy for you!” You tut, reminding him so much of Steven. He couldn’t hold back his smile as you ranted and spoke about healthy eating habits, honestly reminding him of Steven in this moment.

His attention began to wonder as he took in every bit of your face–every blemish or thing you may consider yourself to be an imperfection, tracing every dip and contour of your cheeks, nose, and the slope of your jaw…

“You know what–” You huffed, the hand that wasn’t holding your basket firmly planted on your hip. “No. Why don’t you come have dinner with me? The thought of you making something like some yucky frozen meatloaf is just… blegh.”

Jake felt his brain record-scratch, finally being pulled out of his admiring stupor. “I–what? Oh, no, no, I don’t think that…” He floundered.

Him! The Jake Lockley, left without a quip to be uttered!

“Nah.” You say, walking past him. “I'm making you dinner. C’mon, I’ll need help grabbing stuff.”

On sheer instinct, he followed you like an obedient puppy. “Look, uh, I…”

“Not takin’ no for an answer, Lockley. Now, c’mon!”

The man was hopeless. All he could do was admire your figure and personality once again. Sweet, gentle–but also fiery and bull-headed when it suited you.

Jake fished his phone out of his pocket and pulled up Layla’s number, texting;

“Order something out for dinner, La-La… It looks like I have plans.”

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Chapter 11: Link

#moon knight #steven grant #marc spector #jake lockley #steven grant x reader #marc spector x reader #jake lockely x reader #moon knight x reader #soulmate au

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