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sonolynn · 7 months ago

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Forbidden Fruit

summary | Jace didn't want her, but Aemond did.

pairing | Aemond Targaryen x Fem!Reader

tags | 18+ MDNI, Jealously, Aemond yearning, explicit sexual content, mentions of bastards, loss of virginity, unprotected sex, size kink (?), oral f!receiving, Angst if you squint. "Technical" infidelity but is it really if Jace started it? (yes). ooc!Aemond (probably). NOT PROOF READ (its one am, leave me alone).

w.c | 3.8k

note(s) | My first smut fic!! Ah I'm scared...I also think I have a problem with making Aemond want fem!reader when he rightfully can't have her. Also I swear I'm not a Jace hater!! I love Jace, but in this fic specifically I made him long and wish for Baela.

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“Why don’t you marry her then?”

Aegon’s voice was taunting, as if pushing Aemond to say something. Aemond stared down at the cup in front of him; even with a stoic expression, his mannerisms betrayed him. He tapped his finger against the edge of the cup, he picked at the skin around his nails on the opposite hand-all the tell tale signs of thinking, a mind that cannot be stopped.

“Because she is betrothed to Rhaenyra’s bastard.” His voice dripped with malice as he spoke. Aemond hated that Jacerys would inherit the throne enough; What his bastard nephew didn’t need was the girl Aemond had wished for his entire life. Ever since the two of them were children Aemond had a…weird infatuation with her. When he was a boy, he would pick flowers from the garden and he would purposely do good deeds for her, just to have her hug him or smile graciously at him.

But now, everything was different. She was a woman grown, and him a man grown. She was to be engaged to his bastard nephew, and he would have to sit and watch as they shared a kiss, held hands, smiled and danced as newlyweds. He’d have to hold a straight face as the two of them left to Jacerys’ bed chamber, only knowing the connotations that came with what would happen on their wedding night.

Ignoring his brother's tedious rants about hells knows what, Aemond stood from his chair, opting for a walk in the gardens.

____________________________________________

Aemond walked, hands clasped behind his back, and his gaze drifted into nothingness as he walked with just his thoughts, and the cool breeze that accompanied the summer evenings. He tried to distract himself from the thoughts of her, for they were all almost too painful to ever truly think about.

But he couldn’t help himself. He thought of her as a sickness, one that lingered and grew stronger by the day until it fully consumed your every waking moment. He thought of her laugh just as contagious as the plague, her eyes as intoxicating as the finest of wines. He thought her to be a type of sickness, and he so desperately wanted to be affected.

Aemond was never one to smile-one to truly-smile, his half smirks or half smiles were only ever in a sarcastic sense, but for some reason his smiles were real with her. With her he laughed a little more, with her he walked a little faster. He knew it was stupid, perhaps perpetually idiotic-to ever think, let alone long for such a pure and innocent creature.

As Aemond walked, he noticed her sitting by one of the fountains in the garden. She looked breathtaking, he thought to himself. Her hair was down and cascaded down her shoulders, her face was just the perfect amount of shaded with the moon's light. And above all, she held that intoxicating smile that she always held. He never knew why she was always smiling, nor did he wish to find out.

She turned her head, her smile widening at the sight of Aemond.

“Aemond!” Her voice was cheerful, slowly standing as he walked towards her.

“Princess,” Aemond smiled-a half smile-at her as he looked around, then slowly back at her. “It’s quite late. Should you not be in your chambers?”

She always thought the way he cared for her, even if he didn’t show it outright, was extremely enticing. She knew how he was with others, but she knew the differences he had with almost everyone in court-so what made her so different? Why her, the object of the second son's affection.

“Perhaps I do not wish to sleep. Perhaps…I quite like the quietness of the garden.” She smiled innocently, looking back towards the fountain as she started to walk. Aemond knew her well enough to see that this was a quiet plea for him to join her; Because no matter how much she enjoyed the quietness of the garden, she enjoyed it much more when he was with her.

Aemond stared at her, as he often did, but this time, it was different. The stare he held was nothing short of primal. He watched the light in her eyes as she smiled up at him and for some reason, now, he wished to watch as the innocent light in her eyes slowly dwindled as he claimed her.

“Aemond? Is something wrong?” Her voice snapped his thoughts back, if only for a moment. She stopped walking to look up at him and she crossed her arms underneath her chest. His eye trailed down slowly, fixating on the way that her cleavage just slightly out of her dress. He was like a man starved; Clinging to the littlest of details that would make his imagination run wild.

She seemed to notice the way that his eye raked over her chest like a starving man, and her face flushed with embarrassment. She-though subconsciously-reached up to place her arm over her chest, but to her surprise, Aemond gently took her hand, and when she looked up, his one sapphire eye was locked with hers.

“You needn’t cover up. Not around me.” He spoke calmly, though his heart was racing and his head spinning. He let out a shaky breath as he lowered her hand and looked into her eyes.

She watched him carefully, searching his gaze for anything that would betray him. In truth she didn’t know what she was searching for, but she felt as if she should be searching for something.

Aemond lifted a hand, placing the back of his knuckles against her hot cheek. The gesture was gentle, and slow, something he was not known for. His eye slowly trailed down her face, and his eye caught on her lips, his breath heavy as he reached his hand up and gently placed his thumb over her plush bottom lip.

Her eyes followed his, big, and full of longing. She stared at him as his thumb pushed against her lip. She didn’t know exactly what to do; She knew that this moment was intimate, far too intimate to be happening between a betrothed woman and a bachelor. But, the way he gazed at her made her feel hot, and the way he trailed his hand over her face and body made her want to see where this could lead.

His free hand shakily went up to her waist, cupping it firmly as he brought her closer. He leaned forward, just slightly, till his nose was pressed against hers. Her breath hitched, and her eyes instinctively closed. She waited for him to press his lips against hers, to feel his mouth on hers like she had (shamefully) always wished for. But, it never came.

When she opened her eyes again, she saw Aemond breathing heavily, desperately trying to restrain himself. He pulled away slightly, and he shook his head,

“I shouldn’t take advantage of you…not like this.” Though his words held conviction, it seemed his body betrayed him. His hand stayed on her waist, slowly trailing up and cupping her breast in his hand. She gasped softly at the feeling, and his thumb went to her lip again before he connected his lips to hers. She responded immediately, putting her hands on his arms.

He kissed her like he was dying, his body subconsciously reacting more to the kiss then he’d wish it to. He pulled her flush against him, his strong hands coming to cup her face, his shoulders shrugging in a futile attempt to have her closer. He opened his mouth, causing her to gasp at the feeling of his tongue against hers. Her mouth moved with his as if it was known to her; As if this was a dance she had practiced for years to perfect, as if the dance of her lips was a song that Aemond had mastered just for her.

She practically melted in his arms. She had been kissed before; Jace was a good kisser but he was soft, and the kisses were never not chaste. But, kissing Aemond was like walking through fire. Her entire body reacted to the way he clung to her body, how he pulled her impossibly closer. It was like a fire had escaped through his lips and was now coursing through her veins and settling in her abdomen.

Even though she didn’t know exactly what to do, it seemed her body did. Her hands slid down his arms and slowly made their way to his chest as she moaned softly.

The moan grounded him, like he had been falling from the heavens and down to earth. He suddenly pulled away, breathless as he stared down at her. Her eyes opened steadily, and she looked up at him with confusion while a frown graced her kiss swollen lips.

“We shouldn’t have done that.” He spoke breathlessly, his hand still gently stroking her side.

“Maybe not..but it felt good.” Gods, the way she spoke held him in a chokehold. He wished desperately to dive back into her; To drown in her lips and never come up for air, but..

“Not again. You are to be married.” He suddenly pulled away and at the feeling of his hands leaving her body, she frowned deeper.

“Aemond-” “Goodnight, Princess.”

And with that, the prince turned and rushed back into the keep.

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Aemond couldn’t sleep. He tossed and turned in bed, picking at his nails, biting his lip-genuinely anything to help stop the incessant thoughts of her lips.

The thoughts started off sweet and innocent. The way she looked up at him as he trailed his thumb over her lip, the way her lips pursed just slightly when he leaned forward.

But then the thoughts got venereal fast. He thought about how he felt to finally kiss her. The way his lips practically burned when they pulled away. He knew that as he gazed at her kiss swollen lips his night would be harbored with thoughts of what they’d look like doing gods knows what else.

His hand slid down underneath the sheets, firmly grasping at his length as he let out a shuddering breath. He hated doing this; Feeling so pent up and so desperate that he had to resort to using himself. But as of right now he couldn’t care less.

He imagined her lips around his cock, her innocent eyes gazing up into his. He’d imagine the way she’d gag around him, how her lips would look kissing the head of his cock.

He groaned at the thought, his head tipping back as he closed his eye and let his thoughts wander more. He’d think about how she’d look with his seed covering her lips and her chin, how she’d moan his name as he devoured her between her legs-

He peaked with a gasp, and a low moan of her name. The minute his orgasm washed over him, and he started to slowly come down, he felt an intense feeling of guilt, shame, but most of all pain.

Guilt and shame because he hated himself for touching himself to someone who couldn’t be his.

Pain because she’d never be his. Pain because he knew that no matter what he did, she’d still be betrothed to Jacerys.

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The next morning, she sat alone at breakfast, supposedly liking it more that way. With her fiance practically ignoring her, and her father too entranced with kissing the king's ass, she learned to enjoy the solitude of just…nothing.

Plus, she always had her thoughts. Even if they were only occupied with Aemond.

She played around with the food on her plate as her mind trailed. She remembered the way he kissed her, how he held her. She felt happy, something she so rarely felt with Jacerys.

She knew how he felt, how he longed for and wished for Baela. She did not blame him, she was beautiful, but she also didn’t feel sad, which, at a point did bother her but, not so much.

At least, not after last night.

She smiled to herself as she thought about the kiss, wishing that he would do it again, longing for the way the heat escalated through her body.

She didn’t register the voice next to her until it spoke her name.

She looked up, surprised. But, when her eyes met with Aemond’s, her heartbeat quickened, and she smiled.

“Aemond.”

“You’re not hungry?”

“What?” “You’re not eating.” “Oh,” Her cheeks flushed red for a reason unbeknownst to her, and with a soft huff, she pushed the plate away, “It seems as though I have lost my appetite.”

Aemond looked concerned at that, and he looked down at her. Despite himself, he found himself worrying yet again for her comfort, her needs.

“Is something the matter?” She shakes her head, but for some reason, Aemond was persistent. “If this is about what happened last night, then I should apologize-”

“Apologize?” She interrupted, sitting up straighter at the mention of the word. “Why?”

“Yes…apologize. Because we should not have done that-”

“But I wanted it to happen.”

Aemomd stopped and he slowly looked towards her. His eye pierced into hers as if to read every thought and emotion that crossed her brain. He just simply couldn’t believe her.

“You shouldn’t say things you do not mean, Princess.”

“You don’t know that I don’t mean it.”

“Princess-”

“Aemond.” She said his name as if to challenge him, and he knew that he truly could never challenge her. He saw it in her eyes, he saw by the way she looked at him and smiled that she wished for him just as he wished for her. But these feelings-these blockages-would only cause unnecessary trouble.

“Please, do not give me a hope that cannot be upheld.” Her heart broke a little at that, and, as he stood to leave, she instinctively stood with him, taking his wrist in her hand as she pulled on his arm. As if the small gesture would stop him from walking, (it did).

“Aemond please..You do not know what I wish for.”

His lip curled down into a small frown as he looked at her. He knew what she felt-at least he thought he did-but even if his suspicions were right, even if she did wish for him like how he longed for her, he couldn’t. He may dislike, perhaps even hate his nephew, but he was better than stealing his fiance.

Right?

“We cannot. To be with you would disgrace your family and the alliance-”

“Fuck the alliance!” She swore, her eyes boring into his as she studied his face. “Fuck the alliances Aemond, I wish for you. Desperately, I wish for you. Jace does not see me like how you do. Jace does not make me feel the way that you do-”

“It does not matter if Jace makes you happy or if he makes you feel desired-” “He does not wish for me as you do!”

“Princess-” “You do not understand! We are speaking of breaking it off. Neither of us wish for this.” Aemond went quiet at this and he sighed heavily, turning his full body towards her. He pried his arm away from her, staring at her incredulously, his body language giving no open window to how he was truly feeling. With no words coming from him, she continued.

“I love you.” At those words Aemond showed his shock. He took a step back from her and he raised an eyebrow.

“You do not mean-”

“Oh for the love of-Yes! I mean it! I love you, Aemond! I love you as if it is breathing! Instinctively, not thinking about it….I love you.”

Aemond couldn’t hold it anymore, he walked to her and gripped her face tightly, her cheeks squishing slightly in his grasp as he smashed his lips against hers. She initially was shocked at the sudden kiss, but she kissed him back fiercely, holding his wrists as she leaned up to kiss him deeper.

He led her back until he pressed her back against the table, holding her thighs as he pushed her onto the table. His body fit perfectly in between her thighs, just like he imagined it would. His hands gripped her thighs, one of his hands traveling up, feeling and savoring the soft skin as he groaned.

She pulled away from the kiss to leave small kisses along his jaw. He bit his lip at the feeling, the action presumably so innocent and so sweet it almost made him chuckle.

He pulled back slightly, his gaze intense and lust filled as his hand trailed underneath her breasts.

“Tell me to stop.” He demanded. His head was spinning with the lust that clouded it. He waited for her to push him away, or to whimper a soft “I do not think myself ready”- But she shook her head, bringing his head back to hers swiftly to connect their lips in another passionate kiss.

He pulled away from the kiss, groaning to himself as he left hot, open mouthed kisses against her jaw and neck. He looked down, his breath heavy as he stared down into her cleavage. He wished for nothing more than to rip her dress open and kiss every inch of her body, but being in the dining room came with its disadvantages. So, he settled for kissing her cleavage, before trailing his lips down the fabric of her dress till he came to her thighs.

Aemond pushed her dress up as far as he could, staring at her the whole time. He slowly pushed her thighs about, giving her time to stop him but she never did. Gently kissing the inner side of her thigh, he tried to reassure her. He could see the uncertainty in her eyes; The way she looked at him with both anxiety and lust. He stared up at her searching for any sign or signal that would make him stop.

“Is this okay?” Once he saw the light nod of her head, he disappeared underneath her dress.

She had never been intimate with a man-courtesy of her father, enforcing the “Women should be pure” melodramatic speech into her head ever since she could stand. She always thought it to be a chore, only having heard stories from unhappy married women who hated their husbands, and much less disliked their children a little less, but this? This was exciting, this felt good.

She placed a hand on his head, moaning his name under her breath as he ate her like a beast. His hands gripped her thighs as if to ground himself-He had tasted women before but for some reason she was so much sweeter, so much more divine. His eyes practically rolled back just from pushing his tongue into her heat, sucking gently on her flit before he pulled away slightly, focusing his attention on her clit as he dipped a finger inside of her.

The sudden stretch made her jump, and gasp loudly. She may have pleasured herself before but it really never felt like what Aemond was doing to her. He eased his finger in slowly, dragging it back out, and then slowly pushing it back in. Hearing the moans that graced her lips, he continued the slow thrust of his finger for a moment before he added another one.

She let out a loud moan, a hand on the back of his head as she pushed his head closer to her heat. She felt him chuckle against her, the vibrations only adding to the pleasure. She moaned loudly, perhaps too loudly for comfort, but Aemond only seemed to want more of those noises to come from her.

He slowly curled his fingers, his mouth praising her clit. The added pressure with the curl of his fingers, and the sucking of her clit made her eyes squeeze shut.

“Oh gods Aemond, I’m going to-” Just as her orgasm was going to consume her, it stopped. With her heavy breathing, and slightly shaky legs, she slowly sat up. Aemond smirked up at her, holding her gaze as he nipped at her inner thighs. “You stopped..”

“Yes. Because if you are going to peak it should be on my cock.”

Her face flushed at the words, and she stared at him with wide eyes as he pulled his trousers down slightly to free his throbbing cock. As their eyes met, he seemed to notice the slight anxiety in her eyes, because he pressed his forehead against hers and lined himself up with her entrance.

“Tell me to stop if it hurts too much.” She nodded in response, and she wrapped her arms tightly around his shoulders as he pushed into her. She let out a gasp; The feeling was new, discomfiting but..new. Her face scrunched up at the stretch, and Aemond shushed her quietly as he started to move. After a few thrusts, her body relaxed, and she started to moan his name.

Hearing his name fall from her lips was like a prayer answered, like a lifelong dream he had been waiting for. He grunted as he started to rock his hips back and forth into her slowly. It took everything inside of him to not pound into her, to fuck her like he had fantized about. He wished that her father could see her now, her maidenhood gone and her body fully submitting to the pleasure he so gracefully gave her.

“Aemond..Aemond oh gods-” Her voice broke as he went faster, her moans only getting louder. She tried to wrap her mind around the pleasure he was giving her, the way his hips moved slowly yet deeply, the way the tip of his thick cock rubbed against the spot so deliciously. Her eyebrows furrowed, and she held him close to her.

One of his hands was on her thigh, the other on the table as he thrusted into her, as if holding the edge of the table would stop the creaking sounds, or the way she moaned his name, or how his groans got louder as his climax approached.

White splattered her vision as her orgasm washed over. She cried out his name in pleasure, holding him close as his legs trapped him inside of her. The feeling of her core pulsating and tightening made Aemond’s head spin, and he grunted out a moan of her name as he came himself, spilling his seed inside of her.

As the two sat there, basking in the afterglow of being intimate, neither of them would move for what felt like hours. Even though the position that they were in was compromising, they smiled, and laughed softly at the situation itself.

Once they both got cleaned up-the best they could get cleaned up for just having sex on the dining room table-Aemond took her hand. She smiled softly at Aemond, her heart racing in a new, and exciting way. The two stared at each other for a while, trying to wrap their minds around the fact that now, they could truly be together, or at least, now, they had a hope that they could be together.

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pedroscurls · 4 months ago

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in every lifetime

summary: you lost logan in this universe. logan lost you in his. what happens when you both see each other again, but realize that you're both from different worlds? pairing: logan howlett x fem!reader warnings: post deadpool & wolverine ("worst" logan!variant), angst (mentions of death, loss from both reader and logan), no use of y/n. word count: 2.1k a/n: this is my first logan fic, so if anything is ooc, i'm sorry in advanced! just like everyone else, i've been obsessed with hugh jackman / logan after watching deadpool & wolverine (if it isn't obvious lol)... i had the song 'unchained melody' in mind when writing this story because whenever i hear it, i think of logan for some reason lol (tried to embed it but it didn't work, but i'd highly recommend listening to the song while reading this!) anyway, hope you enjoy! next part.

“I’ll be back.”

“But what if–”

“I always come back, bub.” Logan’s looking down at you, hand cupping your cheek. In moments like this, you can see the age in his features. The crows feet at the corners of his eyes. The gray in his hair and beard.

“Logan…” Tears sting your eyes. You know he has to leave, has to go help Charles, but there’s a feeling deep in your gut that knows that if he goes, he isn't coming back.

“Wait for me, then.” He says, dipping down to gently peck your lips. “Okay? Wait for me.”

“Logan,” you repeat. “What do I do if I– if I lose you?”

There’s a feeling in the pit of Logan’s stomach, a sense of dread and fear that he’s only ever felt when you were concerned. This feels a lot like a goodbye… That maybe if he does go, he won’t come back. And the thought alone scares him. He never used to have to think about the possibility of dying, his regenerative powers always healing him in record time, but he knows that he doesn’t heal as quickly as before. He feels more pain now than he ever had. And he knows he’s sick, knows that the adamantium that once gave him strength is now slowly making him weaker.

But now, the thought of dying… It fucking scared him. It scared him to think that he’d leave you here, all alone, grieving him. He had never thought he’d be deserving of someone like you, to be loved and taken care of so gently, so sweetly, so patiently. Even with all of the baggage he carried, you never pushed. He knew, right off the bat, that you deserved someone so much better than him, but you stayed.

Through it all, you stayed.

And Logan would forever be grateful. After everything he’s been through, the things he’s seen, the things he had to do, the people he’s lost, you gave him a life that was finally worth living.

“Then, you move on, darlin’.” Logan finally answers.

“And if I can’t?”

“You’ll have to.”

“I don’t… I don’t want you to go, but I know that you have to. Charles needs you and–”

“I love you with every fiber of my being, baby,” Logan interjects. “And I will love you in every lifetime.”

And that was almost a year ago. The moment he stopped calling, you knew that was it. That he either got into some real trouble or… Or that he was no longer here. It wasn’t until a young girl named Laura showed up on your doorstep, holding his dog tags that your assumptions were correct.

You had fallen to your knees, a sob escaping your lips, as you felt your world come crashing down. Logan’s death had left a gaping hole in your heart, in your life, and everywhere you looked and everywhere you went, all you could see was him.

You learned from Laura that during his last moments, he had told her to come and find you, that you would take care of her and give her a good life. Whenever you were around her, you tried to be strong, tried to put on a brave front, but behind closed doors, you were a complete mess. There were days where you didn’t want to get out of bed, didn’t want to eat; you just wanted the pain to stop. Every night, whenever you closed your eyes, you forced yourself to sleep because that was the only place where you could be with him.

In your dreams, he was alive.

In your dreams, he had made it back home.

In your dreams, he was here with you, helping raise Laura.

And every time you woke up, you were welcomed with the sudden reality that he wasn’t alive. He wasn’t coming back home. He wasn’t ever going to be here with you to help raise Laura.

Logan was dead and now, you had to try and learn how to move on.

For yourself.

For Laura.

For Logan.

—

He didn’t know what he was doing here, why he agreed to stay with Wade because it was driving him crazy. This wasn’t even his timeline; he wasn’t even meant to be here. Despite saving Wade’s timeline, Logan still found it hard to fit in. He tried to keep Wade and every single one of his friends at an arm's distance because he knows what happens to people he cares about.

But the more time he spent around them, the more he felt at ease. Logan would be lying if he said he was waiting for the other shoe to drop, but when Laura mentioned your name at one of Wade’s family dinners, his heart skipped a beat. When he realized he would be able to stay in this timeline, you were all he could think about.

Logan wondered if you existed in this world and what he would do if you did. So, when Laura casually said your name, his head turned around so quickly that he felt dizzy. There were so many things he regretted in his own timeline, but you were his biggest regret.

Just like he failed the other X-men, Logan had failed you too. You had been there with the other X-men, trying to warn them of a planned attack and ended up getting caught in the crossfire. You had called out for him, just like Scott, like Charles, like Storm.

He managed to get to you before you had taken your last breath, holding you in his arms. Logan begged and begged for you to fight, that he’d do things right from now on as long as you just held on, but you were losing so much blood and Logan couldn’t stop it.

Even then, when you had every right to be angry with him, you gazed up at him with an understanding look on your face. You had always been so patient and kind, so sweet and considerate. You had made him so happy and it scared him, which ultimately ended in pushing you away because he didn’t think he was deserving of it. Of you.

“I love you, Logan,” you had said, wincing at the pain.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m–” Logan felt a sob catch in his throat, tears stinging his eyes as he looked down at you. “Please, baby, please please please, don’t–”

“I–” you coughed, eyes fluttering as you felt the pain overcome your entire body. “I will love you in every lifetime, Logan.” And then, you took your last breath, eyes falling shut and body falling limp in his arms.

Since then, Logan drank himself day after day, from dawn to dusk. The alcohol never truly helped, his regenerative powers sobering him so fast, but with every swig of liquor, it burned. And he spent years bringing pain unto others, including himself.

That was, until he met Wade who had given him a chance, a reason to fight for something… To not turn his back on someone who relied on him. A chance for redemption, to finally make things right.

“So, will you meet her?” Laura asks, holding Dogpool in her arms as she gazes up at Logan. “She– She used to be with this universe’s Logan and…”

“No chance, kid.” Logan interrupts, shaking his head. “I’m not him.”

“Did you have someone like her in yours?” she asks. “She’s always put me first, always made sure I was taken care of even when she didn’t have to, when she was grieving. And I think–” Laura sighs. “I think if she knows that some version of you is alive, it would make her real happy.”

“I’m not him,” Logan growls, feeling his irritation spike. “‘Sides, she’s better off without me.” He stands from the table and walks out into Wade’s balcony to get some fresh air, shutting the door behind him as he leans against the railing.

“But she’s coming tonight,” Laura finally says, long after Logan’s walked away.

Throughout the rest of the dinner, Logan remains outside. He can hear the muffled laughter coming from inside and it only angered him because it was just another confirmation that he didn’t belong here. He’s already on his fourth bottle of beer when he hears a familiar voice, smells a recognizable scent. He turns slightly and catches you stepping into Wade’s apartment, an arm slinging over Laura’s shoulders so casually, so maternally.

He feels his heart rate pick up. Your smile still lights up a room and he can’t help but his lips turning upwards at the sight. With his enhanced hearing, Logan can hear your voice and he shuts his eyes for a moment, tuning all of his attention on you until you’re the only one he hears.

Then, he hears your laugh and he lets out a sigh. He never thought he’d be able to hear that again, but his eyes shoot open when he hears you say his name. There’s a shocked tone in your voice, laced with sadness and hope. It all but crushes him because he knows that you’re probably expecting someone else, expecting this world’s Logan and he doesn’t want to disappoint you. Not again. He doesn’t think he’d be able to handle it if he were to hurt you again.

But when he looks at you, his breath catches in his throat when your eyes meet his. Logan notices the surprise look on your face, but before he could try and escape, you’re already walking towards him. When you open the door and step out with him, your scent fills his senses and it makes him dizzy, like he can’t fully concentrate.

“You…” he hears you say, voice unsteady. “You’re not… I’m–” you sigh and shake your head.

“I know who you are,” Logan finally says, his own voice shaky.

Your hands reach out for him, but stopping halfway when you realize this isn’t your Logan. This is not the same man who died all those years ago. This is some version of him – much younger, less wrinkles and gray hairs in his hair and beard, but he still has that same look on his face. The scowl.

“From Laura?” you ask hesitantly.

“From my universe,” Logan answers.

“There– There’s a version of me in your universe?”

“There was.”

“And what happened to me?”

Logan’s jaw tightens. “The same thing that happened to your Logan in this universe.”

“Oh.” Your face drops, eyes softening. “I’m sorry,” you whisper.

Logan wants to run far from here, far from you because he feels himself yearning for more. He almost forgot how it felt like to be near you, to be inches away that he can just reach out and pull you into his arms. Your eyes captivate him, the kindness it expresses makes him feel like he matters. You had always made him feel that way that even through all of his anger, through all of the walls he put up, you showed him that he was deserving of something good. Even if he didn’t believe it himself.

And you… You were the best thing to ever happen to him.

“Don’t know why you’re apologizin’,” Logan mutters.

There’s an uncomfortable silence that engulfs the both of you. He can see the tears threatening to spill over, can see the way your lower lip is beginning to tremble and he has this sudden urge to console you, to wipe away the tears that have now fallen down your cheeks.

“I’m sorry,” you repeat, bringing your hands up to wipe away the tears that seem to be trickling down your face nonstop. “I just– Losing my Logan just crushed me and I don’t think I’ve ever recovered.”

My Logan.

Logan can practically feel his heart beating in his chest. This isn’t a conversation that he thought he would be having and certainly not with someone he loved and died because of him.

“That’s okay,” Logan responds quietly, his tone softening. “I don’t think it’s easy to recover from losing someone you love.”

“Did you– Did you love me in your universe?”

Logan nods slowly, tightening his jaw as he gazes down at you. “With every fiber of my being.”

Your eyes widen and stare up at him. This might be a different Logan, but hearing those words again just brings you back to the moment you last saw your Logan before he left to go take care of Charles.

“Did you love me in yours?” Logan asks hesitantly.

You nod instantly, tears trickling down your cheek as you stare up at him. “I’d love you in every lifetime.”

Logan feels his own set of tears pool at the corners of his eyes and he moves a hand to rest on the railing, fingers lightly brushing against yours as he stares into your eyes.

“I’m not him,” he whispers.

“I know,” you say quietly. “And I’m not her.”

#hugh jackman wolverine #hugh jackman character #logan howlett #wolverine #worst wolverine #deadpool & wolverine #logan howlett fanfic #logan howlett fanfiction #wolverine fanfic #wolverine fanfiction #worst wolverine fanfic #worst wolverine fanfiction #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett x fem!reader #post deadpool & wolverine #worst logan!variant #hugh jackman #logan howlett x f!reader

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iid-smile · 2 months ago

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★ — doing the 'we listen and we don't judge' challenge with bllk boys!

isagi, bachira, karasu, nagi, rin, chigiri

content — maybe ooc especially for karasu, nagi is a red flag, underwear mentioned in karasu's, bachira is gross (please beware) 😧

a/n: not my idea, but i dont know if i should tag or not 🫣 trying to write out what im imagining in my head is the WORST so pls bare with me 🙏🙏 also there might be mistakes bc my grammar is shit

★ — isagi yoichi

"you know how we were playing mario kart the other day?" his thumbs twirl around each other amid his struggle to make eye contact with you. he's always felt bad lying to your face, but that specific time, he didn't really lie, only hid it from you. "and you lost really bad on that one map?"

at least it's better than what you were expecting. you've seen some couples break up over this trend despite being picture-perfect, and you didn't want to be victim to that curse either. "uh huh..." you nod.

"i searched up where the best shortcuts were and spent three hours every day for a month practicing speed runs."

"nooooo!" your hand lands on his as disbelief washes over you. "baby, why would you do that?" betrayal. betrayal. your own boyfriend has kept something like this a secret for how long?

"i'm sorry!" was it selfish to admit that some weight was lifted off his shoulders too? or that he's actually done that with the majority of the maps? no, he won't say that. "i just—"

"that's my favourite map too..." you pout up at him. you weren't actually that upset, but you knew that looking the part would earn you some cuddles and kisses, which you were craving right now.

"i'm sorry, i'm sorry." his arms wrap around you as he whispers out soft apologies, his lips pressing on your temple. "i'll teach you what i know, okay?"

★ — bachira meguru

"we listen and we don't—"

"i dropped your toothbrush in the toilet three times in a row and i didn't clean it afterwards."

"..."

"what?" bachira's eyebrows raise in confusion, slightly cutting out of the frame as his feet fiddle around as he plays with the electric yellow tips of his hair. "oh! also once there was no toilet paper, but i really really needed to dookie, and only your towel was there, so..."

oh, you don't even want to touch him. or yourself. or anything at this rate. mind you, that event happened yesterday, not a long time ago. "seriously!?"

"what?" his innocent act strikes again, looking at you with big eyes as you struggle to wrap your head around whatever he's just said. and why the hell are they all linked to the bathroom? is that why he spends hours in there at a time?

"you told me that was chocolate!" you gasp, the walls guarding over the truth crumbling down all at once.

"some of it was, yeah. i think i'm lactose intolerant."

oh, god...

★ — karasu tabito

"what, i just say something i've never told you?" karasu muses, his eyes on you rather than the camera as he leans on the kitchen counter, head nestled on his fist.

he hums mindlessly, mind reeling through memories. what hasn't he told you? the words 'i can't think of anything' remain on the tip of his tongue, but after a while, his eyebrows twitch. it was certainly something, but that's what you wanted, right?

"i've worn your underwear once... i think." he admits, acting like that was an ordinary thing to say.

um... what? "what do you mean 'you think'?" in your 'rage', you feebly punch at his chest, only for it to be caught with ease by him.

he knows full well that he could overpower you if he wanted to, but he lets you have your fun, or frustration, pushing back on your hands with equal strength. "no, no, you said no questions." he chuckles, finding your efforts to fight back adorable.

"but—!"

"that's your rule, not mine."

★ — nagi seishiro

"we listen and we don't—" you tug on the sleeve of nagi's hoodie, trying to coax him into sitting up. "sei, at least try to look at the camera."

for a few seconds, there's a few mumbled 'no...'s from him, as well as your near desperate pleas for him to at least attempt to do something for you for once. every time you want to do a cute or funny tiktok trend with him, it's always a struggle for to get up, or in most cases, listen to you at all.

right when you least expect it, he has his response. "i used to hate you a lot. maybe still do. there. are we done?"

your jaw immediately drops. "sei, you can't just..." you're hurt, confused, conflicted and... now you don't know what to do. should you continue? should you cut the video and ask for him to explain himself?

"that's what you wanted me to say." his voice perks up from behind you as he plops onto his back again. the sound of his game fills your ears once more as you're still stunned in silence, only for him to pour more salt onto the wound. "or do you want me to continue?"

yeah, you are not posting this.

★ — itoshi rin

rin blinks at you in confusion as you try to break down the trend to him, his eyes unusually wide as they remained trained on yours. he's just so lost, because why would he ever want to say something mean directly to you just for a funny video?

once it's his turn, you have to give him a little nudge, signalling that it's his turn. honestly, he doesn't even know what to do, even after your little demonstration before him.

he thinks, and he thinks, and he thinks, but nothing comes to mind. "i like it when you wear my jerseys."

you almost wanted to melt from how cute his tiny confession was right then and there. you inferred as much, but hearing him say it out loud "that's not something i can judge, rin."

"i don't really have anything to say." his gaze drifts around the room, landing on the camera for a split second before looking away.

scoffing, your body turns towards him. how does he not? "you judge me all the time!" you blurt out, remembering all of the times you've been a target of his foul mouth.

"that's because you're weird. sometimes."

"sometimes— you know what, it's better than what i've heard you say to certain people." literally everybody he knows fits under the 'certain people' umbrella.

★ — chigiri hyoma

you were a little scared, because chigiri seemed a bit too on board with the idea. knowing him, he's got a lot of stuff to say, bad or worse. hell, he could insult your entire existence and that would be the genuine truth, based on the gossip you've had together, but he's not that mean to you. right?

he looks you dead in the eye. "i've made a pros and cons list about you five times, and the last one was a week ago."

"hyo!" you immediately exclaim, playfully pushing his side. not as bad as you were expecting, but it certainly stung.

he simply shrugs his shoulders. "i mean, there wasn't any cons the last time, so..." you both stare at each other, and his lips thin into a straight line, pulling off the most unbothered expression that he could.

"you're lying." and he's never been a good liar either.

ignoring you, he turns back to the camera, somehow managing to hold back his giggles as he refuses to elaborate. "we listen and we don't—"

"chigiri hyoma."

"we listen and— ow!" the video cuts off with you delivering a barrage of hits against his arm. don't worry, they were all light and they didn't hurt; as you claim, not him.

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fleuriieu · 2 months ago

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May i pls request fem!reader x sevika? I've been fallen for her since 3 years ago and after her scenes in ep 2 i was so in awe and giddy i need to read more of her 😭🤲

𝐒𝐄𝐕𝐈𝐊𝐀 ( 𝐀𝐑𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐄 ) — 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐋 𝐃𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐇𝐂𝐒

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ 𝖕𝖔𝖘𝖙 𝖙𝖞𝖕𝖊 :: bullet points / short drabble

˚ ୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ 𝖋𝖗𝖔𝖒 𝐤𝖔𝖗𝖎 :: im absolutely in love with sevika too so this was really good timing!! ive been wanting to write for her and viktor for the longest time :3 i hope youre okay with me doing general hcs, i didnt know if you wanted anything specific so i just did this 😋 also, sorry if she turned out ooc, this is my first time writing for arcane characters 😓

[ masterlists ]

ᥫ᭡ sevika will be the most protective gf ever—anywhere you go, she’ll always be 2 steps behind looking out for you!

ᥫ᭡ its not that she doesn’t think you can take care of yourself, but its just who she is. she gets worried, especially if you’re wandering around in the undercity

ᥫ᭡ she will 100% be your biggest hype woman. whenever you wear something new for date night, you can see her pupils dilating when looking at you with a small smirk on her face

ᥫ᭡ rather than hand holding i think she would be someone to wrap her arms around your waist, almost possessive in a way. when shes not doing that though, she would want you to have a hand holding onto her biceps

ᥫ᭡ will never ever let you tag along with anything work related. shes pretty dead set on separating you with her dirty work, for your safety

ᥫ᭡ some nights when it gets bad, she just wants you to hold her. don’t say anything. don’t ask her questions. just be with her until the next morning

ᥫ᭡ she loves to bring you back little trinkets or accessories from her missions that she thinks you’ll like / will look good on you. she would never admit it, but her heart always skips a beat when she sees you wearing something that she got for you herself

ᥫ᭡ lives for teasing/banter arguments. she finds it so hot when youre all riled up and mad at her, because she knows that she’ll make it up to you later anyways ( WHAAAT 😦 )

ᥫ᭡ she has insane mood swings on her period. one time, she accidentally snapped at you while you were trying to tell her about your day, and she felt so incredibly shitty for like 2 months

ᥫ᭡ sometimes, she gets nightmares of you dying in her arms due to an enforcer attack. its a reoccurring dream, and whenever she jolts awake in a cold sweat, you reassure her that you’re still there. you’re alive, and you’re not going anywhere anytime soon.

ᥫ᭡ sevika finds it adorable when you give her little nicknames. “vika”, “sevi” , “baby” , and “big mama” ( hehe ) are her favorites

ᥫ᭡ tries to have a date night at least once every two weeks. of course she would like it if it happened more often, but with her schedule its just not possible. when you two do go on dates though, she makes sure to go all out and make it the most enjoyable experience for you

ᥫ᭡ her coworkers are so surprised at how soft she has gotten because of you. she has something to fight for other than zaun now, and once they get their promised land then she’ll finally settle down with you and live through the rest with you by her side

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therightbeaches · 6 days ago

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𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐢𝐩𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐫𝐮𝐢𝐭 ⋆ 𝐚. 𝐡𝐨𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐧𝐞𝐫

synopsis: following a near-encounter with death, your not-quite-boyfriend slash boss takes it upon himself to take care of you. [5.7k] contents: fem!bau!reader, reader was mentioned to be hurt but no gory descriptions about what happened, but theres semi-graphic (?) descriptions of hypothetical injury, first kiss, soft hotch, this is fully self-indulgent fluff (forgive me) a/n: i've never written for criminal minds before and i am rather nervous so please dont criticize too harshly :') + i tried to not make him too ooc (not sure how well that worked out.) i also beg for one-shot requests because i love writing them :p reblogs and comments are more than appreciated ♡ i hope you enjoy!

Sense by sense you come to.

Taste. On your tongue lingers the metallic taste of blood. It coats your throat thick like petroleum jelly. The aftertaste of artificial sweetener. Saccharine.

Smell. It’s sterile, alcohol swabs. Dully sweet like laundry. Coffee and creamer. So good and warm it’s nauseating.

Hearing. Steady beeping somewhere from your right. The rustle of fabric. Birdsong bleeds through thick walls. A phone rings, shrill and stark amongst the dull hustle and bustle outside of your room, and a woman speaks unintelligibly.

Touch. A pinprick tag itches against the back of your neck. Scratchy cotton sheets and a gauzy blanket and a too-flat pillow. Then a slow-burning hurt that climbs through your limbs like being devoured by flame, and you think that if you didn’t already meet your end then this must be what it’s like.

Your eyes blink open. The fluorescent lights above are too bright for you to see anything. Metal clinks as someone opens the curtains, then, Aaron’s face comes into your view in a hazy blur. He has a big bandage on his left cheek and prominent dark circles but otherwise looks well enough.

“Hello,” he says, and a warm paper cup of coffee is pushed into your stiff hands. “How do you feel?”

“Bad.”

“I know. I’m sorry. How much does it hurt?”

“Um... a six and a half. I mostly feel really out of it.”

“They’ve given you as much painkillers as they can. I bet that the brain fog will lift once you have something solid to eat.”

You push yourself up slowly as he edges into focus. In one hand he has a black duffel bag with your old shirt’s dirty sleeve hanging out of the zipper top, white fabric stained rust-brown with dirt and old blood. In the other, a thick manila folder with a seal adorning the front and his pen shoved into the crease.

There’s a strange silence then; strange within itself and strange in the fact that, with him, silence is never strange. His lips twitch downwards: he can feel it too. Then he inhales sharply as though it stings to speak.

“You were more than brave out there. You saved Julia’s life.”

“Thank you. That’s what I wanted to do.”

Your tone must not be convincing enough because he puts the bag down and curls his fingers around the half-rails of your bed, reinforces the idea with a pointed look and sighs, “I’m being serious. We wouldn’t have made it in time to help her without your courage.”

“Thank you,” you say again, milder this time.

He doesn’t say anything further. He doesn’t need to. The sort of unspoken communication that blossoms with time and effort; he looks out for you, and in turn you look out for him. It’s the same for the rest of the team, of course, but it’s no coincidence that you’re the one he always picks to watch his six in the field. And, again, he needn’t speak for you to know. Perhaps born from the innate desire to wane the burn of vulnerability; words stamped across his skin invisible to the untrained eye.

It’s different this time, though. He’s leaving not because he wants to — rather, he has to, stolen away from you as you were him by your profession (a whole thirty-six hours he had to spend without you around to nag him, what a tragedy it was!) You’d expected him to come just to leave since the moment you saw him, but perhaps foolishly, you’d clung to a shard of hope that’d cut up and bloodied your palms. You rub them together self-consciously.

He waves the folder in the air unenthusiastically and, despite him knowing you’ve already put the pieces together, voices it anyway.

“I can’t really stay for long,” he says simply.

“Where are you going?”

A prompt, disguised by niceties in typical fashion, though entirely unnecessary with him: when will I be able to see you again?

He sucks on his teeth and flips the folder open. “Albany. I think a day or two at most and we’ll be back.” He spares the details of the case lest you worry yourself to your grave. Your recent brush with death has already been nearly too much for the team to handle.

You don’t mean to slip into the habit of doubting him, not Aaron, who knows better than to lie to you because always he’ll splinter, crack, then crumble into a fine powder under the weight of your gaze. He’s smart, so smart, and so perceptive and by God if you know anything, you know him — down to the lines of his fingerprints and each individual eyelash across his waterlines, and you know now that something is troubling him.

“What is it?” you ask.

His brows crease in the center like you’ve said something offensive. “What is what?”

“You’re sulking.”

“I’m not,” he says, sounding like he’s sulking.

He knows something that you don’t and he doesn’t want to tell you — evident through the bob of his Adam’s apple with a thick swallow, the whitening of his knuckles around the bed’s guard rails. You give your cup a perfunctory squeeze and the plastic lid pops off and skitters to the ground.

There’s another silence wherein you wait, he waits too, staring at you dumbly. An eternity passes till he brushes his thumb over the length of your forearm, elbow to wrist, then traces the ridges of your knuckles before letting his arm drop limply to his side. He looks around to make sure nobody is within earshot and draws the blue privacy curtains around your bed to enforce extra precaution.

“I was just worried,” he finally says, his voice lowered. “I still am, honestly. You know, seeing you like… this.” Like, sick and weak, strung up with IVs like a puppet and unable to move without strain. “And I don’t want to leave you,” he adds as an afterthought.

In the presence of other agents, doctors, strangers, he’s a professional. He knows how to keep things curt and platonic, but when it’s just you and him, I missed you, I was worried about you, I need you around, I can’t lose you.

The way he speaks to you makes you feel something. He worries about you every moment you’re on the field. He frets over you when you’re ill, misses you when you’re apart, thinks about you all the time. Long ago you’d passed the threshold between mere team members to friends, and now, you’re touching base with what’s next. Beyond friends. Borderline lovers. Whatever that could mean for you. And the vulnerability in his voice strikes you, making him sound so small, so pained by your pain.

“You don’t need to worry,” you say, hoping to soothe his qualms. “I feel alright.”

“I can’t help it. I thought... I don’t know what I thought.”

“It’s nothing I can’t handle,” is your light response, then a switch of the topic, and you ask again, “Will you tell me about the case?”

He puts a reassuring hand on your shoulder, then it moves to push your hair out of your eyes. Lingers in a soft caress on your cheek and your palm fits over the back of it when you lift your hand to cover his.

“Like I said, I think it’ll only be a couple days. Don’t stress yourself out over it. I want you to focus on getting better, alright?”

“Can you call me?” you ask.

“Every chance I get.”

And, trapped in the makeshift prison of your hospital bed, you can only croak out a weak goodbye that scratches your throat as you watch him leave.

⊹₊ 𐙚

It’s been a week since they discharged you from the hospital, assigned a lot of rest and fluids. Seldom a word from Aaron, though, and you, too, are beginning to fret just like he had over you. Your cuticles are peeled from existence, you’ve bit your nails too short and raw and red, your lips are chapped to the point your mouth tastes of metal more often than not.

Penelope has been more than kind and has kept you company in your too-empty apartment, even bringing over the case file and a grainy image of the evidence board sent over by the rest of the team for your viewing pleasure. You didn’t have much of value to add and ended up feeling more useless than you were to begin with.

Now, your gaze is trained on the toes of your too-big socks. A seam is misaligned along the top and the heel has pulled up to the back of your ankle. And you think of him. He’s all you can think about as of late. Feels something like nausea crawling up your throat to think of something happening to him.

Nervous. On edge. Sick with worry. He said one or two days. It’s been six and counting, who knows what could have happened to him out there, he was being secretive about it and he’s never secretive with you. Not you, why wouldn’t he tell you what was happening? Why wouldn’t he let on any details about the case? What if he’d anticipated getting hurt or —

You don’t dare entertain the thought. The only reason you’d imagined it up in the first place is because it happened to you. In the end, you’re still very much human no matter how much bureaucratic authority you have. That’s to say, you’re very much flesh and blood and bone, and from the safety of your apartment Aaron is even more so when he’s out on the field. Flesh can be cut, torn apart, blood can spill unstoppably like a faucet, bone can shatter into a million unfixable pieces. A bulletproof vest will do nothing against a knife jammed into his neck or a shotgun to the back of his head. You shudder and tug at your socks to un-bunch them from your heels.

In the middle of your bout of overthinking, the lock on your door clicks and turns and it swings open with a quiet creak. Aaron stands in the doorway, backlit by the dingy lights outside, akin to an angel with the cast of his hair and the contours of his face dipped in shadow.

“Hello? Honey, I have something for you,” is the first thing he says, the silhouette of his arm twisted to hide something behind his back. From his other hand dangles his go-bag, which falls to the floor of your living room with a dull thud. He peels out of his jacket and tosses it over the back of a chair.

The relief chokes you. Strangles you till you’re blue in the face. You’re struck speechless and can only watch as he pushes the door closed behind him and tosses the keys into the catchall on the hall table, toes off his shoes, then comes over to sit with you on the couch. Plastic crinkles behind his back as he moves closer.

“I’ve got something,” he says again. “A present for you.”

“Aaron-”

“Before you say I didn’t need to, I wanted to,” he interjects, waving a hand to stop you. “I saw them while I was out and thought of you.”

“The anticipation is killing me.”

All turbulent emotions vanish like morning dew on a sunny afternoon, your heart thrumming hard against the confinement of your ribs. You let yourself think it’s only because you’re just excited to see him in good spirits, certainly not because he places a hand on your knee and squeezes lightly, or looks at you with poorly-concealed adoration in his gaze, or the knowledge of the fact he thinks of you often enough to go out of his way to get you something nice.

From behind his back, he produces a bouquet of pink roses wrapped neatly in a matching shade of cellophane with a flourish and you nearly fall to the ground. He’s brought you flowers. Roses. He saw roses while he was out and they made him think of you, and that thought alone nearly has you knocked out cold.

You’re able to mutter his name before you reach for his shoulders for a hug, and he lets out a small huff as he’s pushed down to lay back on the couch with your arms around him.

“Consider this my apology for being too busy to call,” he murmurs.

“Thank you,” you say, breathless. “Consider your apology accepted.”

His free hand rubs up and down your back, lingering flush to the space between your shoulder blades to press you close to his chest. “How have you been?”

“I’m okay.”

“Yeah? Has Garcia been taking good care of you?”

You nod into his shoulder. “You know her.”

“That I do. Do you have a vase that I can put your flowers in?”

“There’s one in the kitchen cabinet.”

But he doesn’t yet stand to retrieve it, too engrossed in the warmth of your hug. This is not how a boss acts with his subordinate. Not even how a friend would act. If he were just a friend he wouldn’t come to you first, because your space is his space, and he wouldn’t have brought you a really nice bouquet, and he wouldn’t find such comfort in your embrace and the smell of your perfume that he goes slack under you. Him and you, always, together.

A moment passes and he shifts out from beneath you. You watch him get up with remorse, his hand holding onto yours till the distance draws his fingers away.

“You know,” he begins, rummaging around in your cabinets to find the aforementioned vase, “I’ve been honing in on my cooking skills.”

“That so?” you ask from the sofa, jelly-limbed with your neck craned to watch him.

“I can make stir fry if you want dinner.” His arm retracts from the cabinet, hand around the neck of your vase.

So he cooks for you. Insists upon it, even. Even though the hospital cleared you fine to go home and you feel more or less well, he insists on taking care of you. You let him. Maybe for his peace of mind. A chance to take care of you just like you’ve taken care of him countless times before. You won’t pretend to not like having him dote on you.

The roses sit between you, lit by warm candlelight because the overhead light buzzes too loud and the bulb flickers when you turn it on. It’s sweet and it’s romantic, shit, you really shouldn’t be getting so personally involved with your boss. The no-fraternization rules implemented by the Bureau higher-ups have been hammered into your skull since the day you joined, yet just look at you. Too late for go-backs now.

Over the table, you say, “You can stay the night, if you want to.”

It’s not that you’re implying anything because you’re not, voice void of sexual innuendo. He doesn’t seem to take it in such a way anyway. His gaze meets yours and he draws closer with a hand curled like a cage atop yours.

“I will,” he replies. “If you want me to.”

“I do.”

He’s slept over before a secret half-a-dozen or so times, mostly on the couch. Only in your bed once. That one time was after you’d came home from a particularly bad case, and it was the second time you’d seen him as upset as he was. Beaten black and blue, scraped up worse than he’s ever been on the job. You’d diligently cleaned his wounds up (always too proud to sit in the back of an ambulance and let a professional take care of it), sat with him until he fell asleep, then you never spoke of it again.

Tonight he sleeps beside you. Blissfully unaware to the way you stare at his profile — the line of his nose, the mess of his hair where it’s fallen over his forehead, the way the light catches on his fluttering lashes and turns them a pale blue. The back of your knuckles run against his cheekbone. Tender, soft, so unlike most anything else he knows now.

He’s beautiful. All of you belongs to him.

You stir to Aaron’s heavy arm draped across your abdomen and crack one eye open to see him staring at you. The room is warm, sunshine spilling over his back to paint him shining gold, and the tip his of nose presses against your neck when he sees you’re awake. He must’ve gotten up before you woke because you can smell fresh-cut grass from the open window and the scent of coffee brewing floats in from the kitchen, and from outside you can hear the humming drone of a lawnmower, the song of morning birds chirping.

“Did I wake you up?” he asks, more a murmur than anything.

You shake your head no. A part of you — the small part that yearned for his care and attention long before now — is awestruck. You’ve got Aaron in your bed, the same Aaron who bleeds and hurts and fights beside you, the man who hadn’t wanted you on the team in the first place, and he’s touching you like you’re made of glass.

“What do you want for breakfast?”

“I’m okay for now,” you reply.

“Are you sure, honey? I can cut up some fruit for you. You could do with some vitamins… maybe some sun, too.” Mournfully, he gets up from bed, leaving you with only the warmth of the sheets where he lay just a moment ago. You watch, blinking slow, breathing slow.

“I’m really fine,” you insist meekly, pulling the blankets up to your chin.

With hands planted on either side of your head, he leans back over you in bed, brows pulled in concern like you’re still bedridden in the hospital. His thumb ghosts over the delicate skin of your undereye, then lower, feather-light down the slope of your jaw and to where your collarbone peeks out from the neck of your shirt.

“I’ll bring you a bowl,” he says, disregarding the rejection.

And then he kisses you before he leaves to the kitchen. Nothing full-fledged, only a brief press of his lips to your cheek, but it renders a swell in your gut, too hot beneath your quilt, breathless like your heart is going to rip straight out of your chest and chase him down to kiss him again. The print of his lips burns white-hot. A brand on your skin.

He pauses in the threshold of your bedroom and looks back. “I’m sorry if that was… weird.”

“No! No, it wasn’t weird. I liked it, actually.”

“Oh, okay.”

Aaron fusses over you incessantly the entire day, from cutting your fruit up to holding your hand to help you to the couch, despite your insistence that you’re fully recovered. He isn’t so used to putting his feelings so brashly on display, but you’ve been walking this tightrope between friends and more for a while and it’s no secret he wants it. Wants you. Wants whatever you may have to offer. No matter if you’re well or not, he’ll want you.

“Thank you,” you say over lunch, picking idly at the tangerine he’d peeled for you. “For staying with me, I mean.”

He lifts his head. He’s opened the window above your sink, citing the lovely weather and your need for sunshine as his reasons for letting the bugs in, and it makes his eyes shine from his seat facing the sun.

You’re like a vampire, he had said. Don’t get me wrong, definitely a beautiful and kind one, but fresh air will do you good, then he’d laughed as he stood in the spill of warmth exuding from the open window.

In his hand is the other half of the tangerine, which he assiduously peels the spongy pith from and discards in a small heap atop your dining table.

“I hope you know that I don’t mind.” Aaron breathes out and hands you two slices stripped of their white viscera. “I like taking care of you. Every so often someone get hurts on the field and it never gets more comfortable to deal with. It makes me feel… good to be here with you.”

“That’s really nice of you to say.”

“It’s only the truth.”

You’ve been better for the greater part of a week and no longer need babying like you did at the start, you think, but withhold on commenting for fear that he thinks you don’t like having him around. You more than like it, really, and you like it even more when he leans over the table enticingly.

He’s smiling widely when he speaks. “And the company is the best part.”

“Even if the company is a vampire?” You touch the side of his throat, flush over his jugular where a vampire might bite. His heart thrums hard beneath the pads of your fingers when you push down with the faintest pressure.

“Even so.”

⊹₊ 𐙚

“Can I see you in my office? There’s something that I want to talk to you about.”

You stand from your desk. Aaron — rather, Hotch, because you’re at work — has been staring at you through his window the entire morning like a reverse-scenario zoo animal in an enclosure. It’s been unsettling to feel someone’s eyes on you perpetually but you let it slide because you know he’s just worried. He made it very clear that he didn’t want you coming back to the office so soon, for worry you might bump a fading bruise on the exceedingly dangerous desks in the bullpen or injure your back further by sitting in the expensive, cushy roller chair.

It’s an overcast Monday in light of your sunny weekend. Aaron had messaged you at five-thirty in the morning, insisted heavily that if you intended on coming in today then it had better be with a warm coat on. You’d come to a tentative middle ground via a knit sweater that he likes because Emily runs cold and makes sure the whole office knows it (Seriously, you can’t remember the last time she’d allowed it to be less than the low eighties, and most of the team would rather bear the heat than listen to her gripe about how cold it is. Today, it’s freezing. The heat is broken and you figure you’ll have to deal with it once she comes in.)

He’s waiting for you when you step in and close the door behind you, drawing the blinds. “How are you?”

“I’m well. I’d be better if you’d stayed home to rest.”

“I promise I’m recovered enough for desk work, Aaron.”

He grumbles with no real upset and beckons for you to come around the other side of his desk. When you do and lean back with palms braced over the lip, a broad hand slips around your waist to touch your back. He drops it quickly. So unprofessional, you might tease, if you weren’t so pleased with the fact that he’s unabashedly touching you at work.

Something in the air has shifted. Following the night you spent together, it’s as if the spark between you has turned into a real firecracker, a sparkling dazzle of neon color and fizzling light. He’d left Saturday afternoon after a lot of coaxing that you’d be alright alone, made you promise you’d eat real food and not just cereal and frozen pizza and TV dinners. Most importantly, he wouldn’t leave without kissing you silly all over your cheeks and forehead and jaw. And when you’d anticipated the killing blow and closed your eyes and parted your lips, he’d bid you goodbye with an affectionate pat to your shoulder.

It was cruel, but you don’t mind waiting for a real kiss. The riper the fruit, the sweeter the juice, isn’t that what they say? This thing, for lack of a better word, with Aaron being as discernible as it is, is still relatively new. Not to mention he’s navigating romance for the first time again after Haley, so you’re more than willing to take it slow with him.

“What did you do over the rest of the weekend?” he asks conversationally.

“You know, the ushe.” You tuck your cold hands between your knees, press your lips together like you’re really devastated by the answer you’d come up with. “I laid around feeling sorry for myself, missing you…” you trail off, wistful.

“You poor thing,” Aaron responds sympathetically. “What can I do?”

You lean forward with a mock show of great sadness, though not without an underlying coquettish, hopeful demeanor. “The only thing that would make it all better is dinner later tonight with someone special.”

“What a coincidence. I was just thinking of asking my own someone special if she wanted to get takeout and spend the night at mine after work.”

It’s awful, the way he’s staring at you and beaming. Like you’re the one who hung all the stars in the sky, crafted the constellations just for him; like you control the tide of the ocean and the spin of the Earth; like you’re the light that makes the moon glow. Makes you want to grab him by his hand and bring him back to your place and never let him leave the comfort of your apartment. Keep him safe and warm and content.

You settle instead on smoothing his lapels down. He isn’t propositioning you when he asks you to stay over — never would he be so blatant, and you don’t think you’re quite involved enough yet for such a risqué offer to be on the table (though the notion has you imagining a torturous handful of things that you wouldn’t dream of telling him about.)

“Tell you what,” he begins. He moves his chair to be positioned in front of you. You have to look directly down to see him face-to-face. “We’ll pick up some dinner and we can watch whatever movie you like. Do you have your go-bag?”

“I do... and if I want to watch Mean Girls?”

“I’ll watch anything you want,” he supplies.

“Oh, how sweet are you?”

“Don’t tell anyone. My professional reputation would be ruined.”

Truth be told, there is a prominent lack of ‘professional reputation’ in Aaron’s department, at least within the team. He can pretend as much as he likes for as long as he likes but it’s their specialty to sniff out lies, pick up on secret cues, and of course they notice when he comes into the office with two cups of coffee instead of one, when he holds your hand to help you up the steps of the jet. You’ve received enough conspiratorial looks to know that they know.

You don’t suppose Aaron is your boyfriend. Your relationship with him is a nuanced thing. Becoming the brunt of office gossip is one thing, jeopardizing your careers is another — Strauss has her suspicions and there’s been, well… talk that stokes the (albeit small) kindling flame. It comes down to having a discussion that will remain on the back burner until the both of you can sit down and discuss the professional implications and the other difficult things that Aaron doesn’t want to talk about.

Dark has long since encompassed the Bureau by the time that he decides to be done working. You’ve been waiting on the couch in his office for the better part of the day, his suit jacket draped over your legs fashioned into an impromptu blanket. And then there’s the shuffling of loose-leaf paper shoved into folders, the scratch of his chair’s wheels as he pushes it in.

The toes of his shiny oxfords come into view and a kind hand pushes a loose lock of hair out of your face. “Are you ready?”

He wedges his hand beneath the small of your back to get you up. You’re tired from your day and limp when he encourages you to sit, but ultimately allow him to prop you up against the back of the couch. You take his hand to stand up when he offers it to you.

One and a half years ago, he wouldn’t dream of holding your hand. Wouldn’t even sit next to you in the conference room or on the jet, in fact. But Aaron didn’t really start liking liking you until eight months ago and didn’t tell you for even longer. It took him a long while to gather the courage to come out and just say it like any normal adult with feelings might do.

If you told your former self you’d wind up holding hands with Unit Chief SSA Aaron Hotchner, going home to eat dinner with him and sleep in his bed, you’d have laughed in your own face. The most you’d ever let yourself indulge in such a fantasy prior to his grandiose confession of more than friendly feelings was maybe, just maybe, in an alternate timeline you’d met Aaron under different circumstances and it would have been history.

But you have him in this timeline. You have him picking up your dinner, driving you to his house, crouching down in front of you to undo the buckles keeping the straps of your kitten heels fastened around your ankles. He rubs your calf after tucking your shoes away before he stands and walks to the kitchen.

“What a long day,” he comments. He loosens the knot of his tie and looks over at you over his shoulder. “For you especially, I imagine. Does it get tiring, laying on the couch in my office?”

“Mhm,” you hum agreeably. “A very long day of very grueling paperwork. My boss can’t stop assigning me more and more when there are other agents who could share the workload.”

You know Aaron is smiling, even as he’s faced with his back to you. It’s clear in his voice. “Maybe your boss just thinks you’re very diligent and produce quality work.”

“That sounds to me a lot like favoritism, Hotchner.” You saunter up behind him, draping your arms around his waist. He tears apart the plastic bag holding your food then separates portions onto two ceramic plates.

“Uh-huh,” he says wryly. “You see, honey, favoritism would be more like if I let a member of my team quote unquote lay down to rest her eyes on my sofa instead of doing her work like I very kindly asked — oh wait, doesn’t that sound familiar?”

“So I am your favorite? Ooh, how scandalous. Imagine if word got out that you were picking favorites.”

“I must be doing something wrong if you have to ask.” Aaron turns and puts a hand on the back of your neck, scoffs, shakes his head good-naturedly. This mood he’s in, playful, teasing, is so rare, and you love it. “Do you ever see me letting Morgan take a nap during work hours?”

“Derek will nap regardless if you let him or not.”

(This is true. You’d caught him sleeping in the conference room once. He’d made you swear not to tell Aaron in exchange for vending machine money — and who were you to deny such a generous offer? Your silence was easily bought via chocolate bars.)

“In that case, I might have to give him a stern talking to.” His expression is grim.

“Oh, please don’t. He gave me money to buy candy from the machines if I swore not to tell you.”

Aaron is delighted by this answer. “But you’re telling me anyway?”

“Does that make me a bad friend?” you ask morosely.

“No, no. You’re the best friend. And an even better subordinate for ratting him out… it’s good to know where your loyalty lies.”

He’s laughing when he says it and then he isn’t laughing a mere moment later. Rather, he’s leaning in on a whim, eyes fluttering shut, a hand over the back of your neck, thumbs a whisper against the curve of your cheek. There’s a perceptible flash that travels like lighting up your spine — he’s going to kiss you for real this time, you know he is, and it’s something you’ve wanted for who-knows how long and it’s finally yours to have. To keep. And it’s not just about the kiss, is it? It’s about Aaron, like it most always is, and you thank your lucky stars one by one to have found a man like him and to be able to keep him.

But it’s over nearly as soon as it began. How torturous for it to end so quickly when you’ve dreamt of kissing him day and night. It’s only right for you to go for another and another and another, and yes, juice is always sweeter when the fruit has had time to ripen.

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner fanfiction #hotch x reader #hotch x y/n #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds x reader

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localkiss · 3 months ago

Text

Fucking After Party!

pairings: leon kennedy x fem!reader

synopsis: Of course your big brother coddles you. Do you find it weird? Yes. So, you slip away to a Halloween party, unbeknownst to what will happen later in the night. Maybe you'll find yourself clinging to your older brother in time of need.

cw: MDNI!! INCEST !! Knives, oral, p in v, unprotected sex, noncon/dubcon, creampies, spanking, manhandling, degradation, praise, overstimulation, poor depictions of alcohol and drinking, poor depictions of flirting (im shorry), videotaping.. um probably more but i don't wanna spoil it. LEON IS VERY OOC (since some ppl are babies about that 🙄)

wc: 4.6k

tags: @dilfstar @adiorxia @leonkennedygvrl @bunnyclaire @rigorwhoring @leonsdolly @admirxation @gettingsilly @nilpill @withonly-sweetheart @cakelitter

“Hey little sis,” he hums out, hand reaching up to pet your head with affection. Thinking about how cute you are when you look up at him with red hot cheeks. His eyes dip down your body, so soft and plush. Perfect.

“Leoonnnn!” You drag out his name in an annoyed tone. Swatting his hand away. Can't help but think that he's a pest, constantly buzzing around you. Never leaving you alone.

Like, c’mon doesn't he have a job? He's always been a bit of a lurker around you, but especially now that you're in college. Can't always be his baby sis. One day, you'll have a significant other, leave the house, and sort of cut contact for the most part. Be too busy to entertain your loser of an older brother.

To him though? You will be by his side forever. Dote on you forever and ever. Never make you pay any bills, lift a finger, or even have the time to complain about something. Because, guess what! Big brother is always here for you. To take care of you and never make you have to get a job to sustain yourself.

Leon just chuckles at your display of frustration. He wants to comment on how cute you are, especially when you say his name like that.

Wants to just snatch you up and cuddle with you until you are fast asleep in his arms. His strong, firm biceps against your body like you're a body pillow.

Imagining you scooting up close until you're snug against his body. Your ass pressing into his groin so much that he can feel your tailbone. To imagine you knocked out so he can take full advantage of you. Better yet, if you pretend to be asleep, letting him grope you in ways a brother shouldn't.

Honestly, he thought about ordering some sleeping pills to dissolve into your drinks. So when he feels like feeling you up in your sleep, he can do it while making sure you're gonna stay asleep.

And place a camera in your room so he can watch back on how you look and react in your sleep. See if you smile in your sleep. Good material to jerk off to, especially good if he manages to snag a pair of your panties.

He sucks on his teeth and shakes his head down at you. “So… where’re you headed, looking like that? Got a hot date or what?” Leon drags his eyes slowly once more. One thing caught his eye immediately. Can't believe he didn't even notice it the first time he looked at you.

You are wearing black pantyhose and a white mini dress. What are you, some cheap hooker? No, no, no… you are his baby. Only he should see you like this. Not some fucking douchebag who's going to do a pump and dump.

Man, if he ever catches some guy trying to dick you down in your bed.. it'll be over. One flash of his badge and the guy will go running off with his tail between his legs. It doesn't mean anything to Leon if your love or sex life doesn't even begin.

“I'm going to a Halloween party.” You answer bluntly, gesturing towards your sexy nurse rendition. Shifting from one foot to the other, your maroon colored heels clicking on the hardwood floor. Sighing deeply, like he's boring you.

Leon raises his eyebrows. Even worse than a date. A whole party full of immature adults whose brains aren't fully developed. Great. Perfect.

“Sure you don't want me to go with you? I can be a sexy cop,” he puts his hands on his hips with a sly smile. “I can even bring my handcuffs.”

You wrinkle your nose at that. “Um, no thanks. You'll just be watching me the entire time, again. Remember last time?”

Closing your eyes and shaking your head rapidly for a few seconds. It was weird.

“Oh come on , I was making sure nobody was trying anything funny. Can't consent if you're totally wasted.” As if he isn't planning on touching you in your sleep.

Though, you've no idea that he's thinking this stuff. Supposed to be a good guy. Good cop.

However, there is something about you that makes that dark side of his brain itch. Maybe it is because you are his little sister? The fact that you guys used to play house together? Used to do things that would be weird to do as two grown adults.

Him being the husband, you being the wife. Parents in the other room as you mimicked what they did a lot, which is a quick peck on the lips. It was innocent.

Or when you both were forced to change in the bathroom together, after swimming. It was all fine and dandy since you're family. And when it became weird, was when you were fourteen and he was sixteen.

Weird that your brother kept following you and bothering you. Or was the chaperone at dances. Always staring and glaring down at other boys. Pissed you off and you both argued on the way home. You did not have a good time at any dances because of him.

“I need to protect you from the bad guys,” he said. “Mom says I have to watch you, since I'm older than you,” he said. What is he, some sort of hero?

It only got worse when you walked in on him masturbating. You remember the way his mouth was formed in an ‘o’ shape, how his cock was flushed at the tip. How he had his head tilted back into his pillow. The lewd sounds of him fucking his fist and his soft groans and whimpers. And how his muscles rippled with each tug, the slight sheen of sweat on his naked figure.

Leon was just mumbling to himself. “Yeah? Yeah, just like that. Mhmm…”

“Take it baby, take it.”

“Please let me cum inside of you. Please let me.”

And a whole bunch of other things you simply wish you never heard out of his mouth. It makes you cringe. But you also feel disgusted for squeezing your thighs together as you watched him. He was big. Real big.

“Yeah. But I want to go, to have a good time, Leon.” You insist on leaving alone. “I'll text you if I need any help.”

Giving him a flat smile, you click clack your way to your friend's car outside. Getting inside the vehicle and driving away swiftly. Looking out the window and seeing Leon wave goodbye to you.

As soon as you arrive at the party, you are bombarded with the smell of weed, sweat, and alcohol. Just the right scent notes for a candle!

You shimmy your way into the kitchen for a red solo cup to fill up with some concoction of alcohol and juice. Doing so, you find yourself flirting with a guy who is dressed up as a vampire. And he convinces you to dance with him.

Making your way to the dance floor, he keeps a firm grip on your wrist. Slowly moving it down towards your hips. It’s a bit weird for someone to be so confident and comfortable with touching a woman like that immediately. But you ignore it for the time being.

Slowly getting to know him and all of his interests. Barely giving you any time to talk about yourself. It's whatever. He's cute.

It sure is fun letting loose and drinking all your sorrows away.

You feel his hand start to slip down towards the top of your ass. Still, you don't say anything. Maybe it's just the alcohol dulling your senses, you just can't find a care in the world to stop him.

He leads you back to the kitchen, pouring you a drink. Urging you to finish what he made you before you both got back to the dance floor. Kind of weird, but alright.

Shit. All you can see and feel is his soft body against you, his dick grinding up against your stomach. The black shaggy hair and his stupid vampire collar. And his old spice ass cologne, ugh. Headache central.

You excuse yourself and go to the kitchen. Fixing yourself another cup, because fuck it. And then another man comes up and starts chatting away with you.

Eventually, you both make it outside. Talking about the most random bullshit you could think of.

This guy's pretty cute too. No costume though, from what you could tell. And, he's eyeing you up like candy. Like he wants to eat you up here and now. Hot…!

He's tall, skinny, and has dark brown hair. Oh, not to mention the weird black lines on his face. Maybe…it's his costume? You hope.

“So, what's your costume?” You gesture towards his outfit.

“I'm dressed up as Choso from Jujutsu Kaisen, you probably don't know it. It's an anime.” He explains with a shrug of his shoulders and a smirk to his lips.

Oh! So he's one of those guys. Yeah, nevermind. No thanks, Mr. Nice guy.

“Oh, okay… Cool. I'll be sure to look that up later,” you hum and nod your head.

He created this awkward atmosphere. Best to just swipe it under the rug and talk about something else. Or, just get more alcohol! Because alcohol fixes everything!

Both of you make your way back into the house and you grab some more of that good stuff. Gulping it all down and smoothing your slutty nurse outfit out. Bending over to fix your stockings, to make sure it looks cute still.

Somebody comes up behind you and whistles. That gets your attention in the wrong way. Doesn't matter to the guy though. Attention is attention. Can't help but wrinkle your nose at him, watching him walk away with a smug look on his face.

You straighten up and sigh, checking your phone. It's only been two hours?

God, it feels like it's been an eternity in this swamp of horny drunk adults. You can't see your friends anywhere, assuming they've already left and are going to hookup with some stranger. Like always, leaving you behind to fend for yourself. It's cool though.

Rubbing your bleary eyes, you stumble out the front door. The chilly air of October coming to bite you in the ass. Quite literally. It's almost hanging out with the way it keeps riding up. It's not too cold, as you have some liquid courage in your system! Thank god for that!

Feeling your teeth start to chatter, you manage to send your location to Leon. Opening your camera, you take a good look at yourself. Fixing yourself up to take a few photos. Might as well, since you look absolutely amazing. Wouldn’t want this makeup to be all for nothing, now would we?

As you smile and pose for the camera, you feel two arms slipping around your waist. But no groin pressing up against you. Odd. You bite your lip and turn your head.

“What the—Leon?”

“Yes, silly. That's my name, don't wear it out.” He chuckles down at you. “What? I was getting ready to pose for a picture with you.”

You roll your eyes, feeling his chin rest on your shoulder. And at the last second, he moves his hand to come up and squish your cheeks together. Ruining the photo.

Turning around, you let out a huff of air. Hitting him once in the chest before making your way to his Jeep. Not bothering to chastise him for doing that. You've had enough of men for today.

Buckling yourself, you squeeze your legs together, trying to warm up quickly. The warm air fanning all around you, undoing all the prickles in your skin, it's refreshing. Leon gets into the driver's side and buckles himself before driving back to your guys’ house.

Closing your eyes, you tilt your head back against the headrest. The bumps and the soft sound of the radio killing you to sleep. Thankfully Leon doesn't say anything the rest of the way home.

As the car slows to a stop, you wake up from your little—but much appreciated—nap. Groaning, you unbuckle and get out. Staggering your way up the stairs and waiting for Leon to hurry up and unlock the front door.

His thick hair bounces with each step he takes as he jogs his way towards you. Opening it and walking inside, shutting it and locking it behind you.

He takes his shoes off, leaving them at the door and disappears into the hallway. You sigh, taking your heels off and hurrying to your room. Closing it behind you, you set your shoes on the floor. Flopping onto your bed with a groan.

Before you could begin to take off your clothes, the power goes out. Leaving you in complete darkness. Double tapping your phone, you put on your flashlight.

“Leon?” You call out, crawling out of bed to open your door.

A few beats later there's a loud thud, which makes you jump. Okay, now you are really scared. Soft hums and deafening white noise fills your ears. You go to his door and knock on it.

No answer, yet again. Did this asshole fall asleep? Great.

Making your way towards the living room, you hear yet another noise. “Ha ha.. very funny Leon! I know its you.”

You hope it's just him pulling a prank. Hope.

And when you finally reach to your destination, you move your phone around to see if anyone's there. Out of the corner of your eye, you notice a tall black figure.

Screaming, you almost slip and fall trying to run back into your room. But before you could make it, their hands grab onto your waist as tight as possible. Pulling you back towards their chest. God damn it, you dropped your phone!

“Please let me go!” You start panicking and sobbing, kicking your feet out in hopes that they drop you. “I don't wanna die! Please…!”

They don't, obviously. And you try to elbow them in the stomach, hearing them groan and tighten their grip around you. Putting one hand over your mouth with ease.

The man drags you back into the living room, throwing you on the couch and straddling your hips. You hear him snort and in turn makes your stomach churn with disgust mixed with fear. Sobbing, you feel weak due to being inebriated and scared. Unable to try and push him off of you.

“You're so stupid,” he says lowly, his gloved hands pinning your wrists down with one, the other one squishing your cheeks together. “So slutty too.”

His hand leaves your face and traces the curves of your body. Too bad you can't see his face. Stupid mask.

“W-What do you want from me?” You squeak out, feeling his hand start to grope at your chest with interest.

“Your virginity, baby.” He coos, ripping off your skimpy nurse dress. The buttons go flying everywhere. His voice sounds familiar though.

In the state of shock, he takes the opportunity to pull out his knife and cut through your bra. Watching the way your nipples pebble up and how your tits jiggle. Putting his knife back, he groans. Grabbing a tit and squeezing it before letting it go to slap it.

“Stop it! Why are you doing this to—”

Listening to the way you gasp and whimper. He repeats it a couple times to each tit, before he pulls up his mask just enough to see his mouth.

Leaning down, he forces you into a kiss. His hand lightly holding you down by the neck, his thumb gently squeezing the side. Letting you feel lightheaded so that you still panic at the thought of him killing you.

“Taste so good, pretty girl.” The man laughs into the kiss before he gets off of you.

Maneuvering you into the missionary position. Pushing your legs down with his weight as he ties your hands together.

Once he deems it good enough, he gets up and starts to shuffle things around. And lights a few candles, making you squint, noticing something being propped up. Blinking a few times, you see it's a fucking camera.

“Please, don't do this to me. Please…” you beg him, watching him make his way back to you.

His hands sliding up your legs, playing with the stockings you have on. “Cute tights you've got on, slut.” He hums, his thumbs trace the lace.

Moving up until he reaches your panties. “Hm, cute thong too. I see it's nice and soaked for me. And here you were, screaming and crying for me to stop.” He cuts them off of you, dragging the dull tip of his blade against your skin. Seeing you jump as he gets closer to your chubby cunt.

“Got nothing to say?” The man puts his knife away, his thumb swiping over your folds. Not rubbing where you want him to rub, just teasing around it.

“Please…” you whine out, trying to move your hips in a way that makes his thumb press against your clit.

He chuckles, laying between your thighs, holding them up over his shoulders. “I know, I know. You want your pretty pussy to be played with. Want it to be raped too, huh?” Licking up and down your lips, teasingly dipping his tongue into your hole.

Groaning, he starts to suck and swirl his tongue around your clit. You moan and squirm under him, feeling his hot tongue against your clit feels soo good. Moving your tied hands down to grab at his head. Needing to hold on to something.

“Mmh.. right there,” you mewl, grabbing at his head harder. Hearing him slurp and moan into your pussy like he's the one that's getting head.

“Yeah, right here?” He goads, taking your clit between his teeth gently. Nibbling on it and swirling his tongue all over it. And all thoughts in your head became mush.

It creeps up on you like a jump scare in a movie. One minute you're fine, next minute you are jumping. Not because you're scared, but because you came so hard your body couldn't help but thrash around.

“I'm… I'm c-coming!” Loud cries came out of your mouth as your legs shook and planted themselves against his head. The fact a camera is recording your every move and word, slips out of your brain and out into his mouth.

And he greedily latches his mouth onto your hole. Getting every last drop of your cum before he sits up on his haunches and removes his mask. Maybe it's because you just came, but you aren't so alarmed that it's Leon.

“What the fuck? Leon?!” Your cunt throbs, feeling your heart sink down straight to your ass. You can't even move properly and that makes him smile.

“What the fuck, Leon?” He mocks you, leaning down to get all up in your face. “So fucking cute,” he hums, squishing your face together before moving it away from him, “so stupid though. I mean, fuck. You'd get wet and spread your legs for any man who wants to lick you open?”

Leon tuts, giving your cheek a few taps before he pushes down his black sweats. His cock already hard and flushed red at the tip. Giving it a few slow strokes, his other hand gently roams up your body, giving your boob a feel.

“Gonna let big brother take your virginity? Let me split open this cute cunt?” Leon watches you intently, tapping the weeping tip on your sensitive bud. “Not gonna fuck you until you beg for it.” Grabbing your left leg and lifting it up against his chest.

You feel your eyes well up with tears once more. Lifting your head, you watch his heavy cock play with your pussy lips. Blinking them away, you swallow the thickness in your throat.

“Please.. fuck me,” you mumble out, looking away, towards the camera unknowingly.

“What was that? Speak up, princess.” Leon guides the tip to your hole, letting it kiss your opening.

“Oh my fucking god! Just fuck me, Leon!”

Shaking his head disapprovingly, he leans down, pushing it in slowly. “Big brother's gotta fuck this attitude out of you, hm? Yeah, he's gonna keep this fat cunt nice and full until she's learned her lesson.” His dirty brown hair falls into your face as he moans from the sensation of your cunt around his length.

Keeping his eyes locked into your face as he sinks deeper into you. “Does it hurt, baby?”

“Yeah,” you clench down on him, your velvety walls squeezing him just right. “It's too big.” A deep whine in your throat bubbles up.

“Aww, poor pussy’s gonna go through it, yeah? Too bad big brother's cock wants to punish his little sister's cunt. Mhm…” he presses his lips against yours as he humps your wetness, softly making out with you. His hand goes up your arm and holds your hand in reassurance.

As you lock tongues, he takes the opportunity to go just a bit harder and faster. Groaning as you flutter and cant your hips into his pelvis. The shaven patch of hair just runs against your clit just right.

Pulling away, he lets go of your leg and hand, holding onto your hip and pushing your face towards the camera. “I'm recording this, smile for the camera baby,” he says between gritted teeth.

Moaning, you look directly into the lenses, tightening around him. “Mmhh—fuck—please!” you squirm, moving your arms to block your face. Too embarrassed to look into it while he's fucking you.

“You camera shy now? So adorable, lil sis,” he grunts, plowing even harder now. Both hands gripping onto the fat of your hips, listening to the squelching from your wetness. “You hear that? Sopping wet for your big brother. Tightened up when you were forced to look into the camera. It's okay baby, nobody else will see this video but me.” His thumb starts to swirl around your clit hard.

Rubbing it fast, feeling you start to come undone on his dick. The feeling of his leather gloves catches onto your clit deliciously. You feel red and hot all over, your stomach tensing up. And you start screaming, legs going numb, feeling your upper body jerk forward as you cum. “Leon!”

“Fuck!” Leon rabbits his hips into your squelching heat, roughly fucking you into the couch, “didn't know you'd squirt so easily.” He lets out a mix of a moan and a laugh, giving your pussy a few taps before putting you into a mating press.

Feeling your lace stockings against his head as he drives into his own orgasm. “All fucked out now, mhm. Yeah, big brother's g’nna feed your pussy his cum. Get you fucking pregnant, oh—”

He growls as his balls plap against your ass. Filling you up with hot white sticky ropes, stuffing you to the brim. But his hips don't stop fucking it into you. Pressing his cold lips against yours, he slows down.

Leon huffs and leans back, pulling out his still hard cock soaked with a mixture of your fluids and his. Watching your cunt open and close, oozing out his spend.

He unties your wrists and rubs up and down your sides. “Let me fuck you again, please lil sis?” Feeling your body hiccup and twitch from overstimulation.

Rubbing your ruined eye makeup, you weakly nod your head. “Uhuh, want it again.”

And then he's back all over you. Kissing you and groping your tits. Twisting your nipples and pinching them as his mouth makes its way to your neck. Begining to litter you with marks to insinuate you are taken.

He switches to the other one, giving it the same love and attention he gave to your right breast. And before he stops, he presses a kiss in the valley of your breasts.

“Okay, on your stomach now.” He guides you to flip over, spreading your ass to watch your holes wink at him. Gives it a smack, loving the way it moves.

Leon braces himself on his forearm as he pushes the head back in. Whimpering as he presses his chest against your back, arms caging you into the couch.

“Good god, you're so tight,” humping into you, he whispers into your ear. His breath hot and his voice low, sending chills down your spine and it warms your belly up.

“This slutty pussy is mine, alright? Won't let any other man come near you. You're my little sister.”

“Uhuh, s’all yours big brother,” you feed into his fucked up mindset. Letting him fuck you into his idealization of you. Soft, sweet, and pliant.

Rocking your hips back, you moan into the cushions. With each thrust, he goes deeper and deeper. Making you arch your back from how deep he is.

Soft squeaks and punched out groans rise from your throat, “Leon, please,” grabbing ahold of his hand and squeezing it. “Oh, fuck, please.”

His pace starts to pick up, watching the way your head bobbles from his thrusts. Heavy balls plapping away at your clit, making you cry out. He drives himself harder into your wet hole, striving to make you cum again.

“Yeah? Gonna cum for me? Soak my cock again, uhuh, c’mon baby,” Leon encourages you, whimpering and growling in your ear. The loud slapping noises echoing throughout the room. The smell of sex and sweat twirling in the air like dust particles.

Hot and heavy breaths against your neck as he clumsily kisses your pulse point. You shivering beneath him, milking his cock for all its worth is what drives him crazy. Pushing on your lower back as he grips a cheek and then slaps it. Over and over again.

Hearing you crying out for him is enough for him to spill his seed once more. He pulls your hair and makes your face visible to the camera, coaxing you through your final orgasm of the night. Listening to you squeal and call out his name.

“Good girl. You ready for me to pump this cunt up full with my cum?” Leon starts humping you, barely pulling out as he waits for your answer.

“Yes, yes, yes!” Eyes rolling into the back of your head as he slams his hips against your ass.

About a half a dozen of thrusts, he spurts his load deep into your womb. Letting go of your hair, he lazily grinds his seed into your throbbing pussy as much as he can, before all of it comes pooling out.

“Fuck me, jesus christ. ‘Bout emptied my balls into you. Fuck, I was backed up.” Leon pulls out of you and spreads you open, watching it bubble and pop out. Biting his lip as he pushes it back in with his thumb.

Pulling up his pants, he grabs a few tissues to clean you up. As well as the couch. Oops, hope your parents don't notice any stains!

“I'm so full,” you mumble, wincing as you turn on your back. “It's going to be your fault if I can't walk tomorrow.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know.” He snorts, giving you a chaste kiss on the forehead.

“Oh shit, I've got to stop the recording,” he goes over and shuts it off with a dopey smile on his face. “taking your first time on our first tape together.”

Groaning, you push him away as he begins to snuggle with you. “God. Gross, get out of here.”

“C'mon, I'll buy you as many sour patch kids and chocolates as you want. But first, let's go clean up properly.” He convinces you and you allow him to carry you bridal style into the bathroom.

Of course, with a roll of your eyes with it too. “You better.” Because you wouldn't be his cute baby sis without having some sort of attitude towards him. Even after he fucked your brains out.

(genuinely forgot where i got the divider for the content warning. augh. I'll find it later.)

#leon kennedy #leon s kennedy #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy x reader #leon scott kennedy #resident evil smut #leon smut #leon kennedy smut #leon resident evil #leon s kennedy x reader #localkiss #divider by cafekitsune

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