#re fanfiction

[sinsofnivan]

I just read intoxication, I’m on my knees begging for you to write more Krauser. Could literally be anything and I will eat it up you write him so good. Really looking forward to your future works🖤🖤🖤

MATCH MADE IN HELL! — Jack Krauser x YOU!

SUMMARY: it's always bugged krauser how he could easily melt under your touch. that tough exterior—gone—the moment your lips wrap around his cock. at first he was confused with the moans that wanted to leave his scarred mouth, confused that his blowjob was ten times better than the previous ones, confused that his eyes actually wanted to roll back to the pits of his sockets. but he's grown to love it, more than he actually expected—because he was seeing you almost everyday.

PAIRING: JACK KRAUSER/you.

WARNINGS: oral fixations, slight post-orgasm torture, cock worship?, body worship, cockdrunk reader, size difference female reader, nsfw themes, obviously, possessive krauser, bro is in love with the readussy (and the reader too, of course.), size difference, krauser has a big fat monster veiny cock, being friends w benefits w krauser, au where krauser lives, krauser is also really needy and really nasty like, nasty nasty in this fic

WORD COUNT: 2259

A/N: y'all krauser has been fine since the first game TELL ME I'M WRONGGGGGGG.

NSFW UNDER THE CUT!

"oh fuck . . "

the feeling of your mouth wrapping around him was heaven. it's so soft, so fucking warm, and krauser couldn't help but let out a guttural moan. "mm," there hummed the pretty woman beneath him: you. the apple of his eye, the only source of his desires. you held his girthy cock from the base, slowly taking him in. "jus' like that, baby." his impatience gets the best of him, and he ends up pushing your head forward. the tip of his cock is just past your tongue, and you end up gagging, coughing out a thick coat of spit.

he groans, mouth left open as his dick twitched in your throat. why is it everything that you did turned him on? he hated it. hated how he needed you. how he wanted you for himself. "s , sorry, babe—shit!" you didn't allow him to finish his apology as you sheathed his cock deep in your throat; 'til your nose was firmly pressed against his bush, 'til his balls covered your already spit-soaked chin.

it takes everything in him to not cum—because for once, he actually wants to savour you. (and he won't admit it, he cums so fast with you . . ) his lips quivered, and you begin to bob your head at a steady pace. "mmh. . . mfff," you obscenely moaned against his cock, hollowing your cheeks as much as you could. "you're such a fucking . . dirty girl," he growled, running his scarred digits through his aurum hair. 

nevermind the burn on your knees. it was easy to ignore the aches when krauser whined your name so sinfully good. it only encourages you to pick up the speed, letting out these gagging noises everytime his tip’s by the back of your throat. his built thighs are caressed by you, palm running over every scar, every outline of his quads, juxtaposed by the harsh lines branded by your nails. krauser winced, but soon grinned. 

you began to practically fuck your throat against his veiny cock, jaw aching from how wide you have to open those pretty lips. gods, you drove him crazy, already feeling the orgasm quickly creeping up on him. "baby—, wait," he growled, putting a hand on top of your head to try and "stop" you, but he couldn't. you only hummed, reaching for his balls and squeezing. "stop––fuck, stop. 'm gonna cum," 

well, that was the point! 

instead, you'd knead his balls again, trying your best to maintain the rapid pace you've initiated, and krauser hisses at your hardheadedness. "Y/N, 'm serious—fuck, fuuuuck, i'm gonna cum, i'm cumming—!" his grip tightens, and it's just second-nature for you to force his throbbing cock deep in your throat as his cum spurts in thick amounts. his hips stuttered, and krauser doesn't let you pull away, even when you coughed, even when you gagged, even when you were tapping his leg for air. 

"bad girls don't get to breathe," he growled, keeping your head in place with one hand. "you're so fucking stubborn. can't wait to be a little cockslut for me? huh?" you whined, your spit leaking nonstop from his balls and from the sides of your mouth. his cock slides out from your mouth, and you wanted to catch your breath, but he had other plans; spit-covered shaft resting on your face and letting your own sloppy mess smear all over you. "you're so fucking filthy, baby," he groaned, watching you lick the underside, all the way down, down to his balls.

fingers delicately stroke the sensitive tip, earning a growl from your krauser whilst your fingertips teased him over and over; taking one of his balls in your mouth and sucking. he was fucking whimpering, cock still sensitive, but it felt so, so good. you were addicted, and so was he. "you're so—," so good. so fucking amazing. "you're so fucking bratty, god," he had to practically pry your mouth off of him, and you only pressed kisses on his tip. "'m soooorry," you muttered against his cock, smiling so deceivingly sweet at him. "y'know i love your cock, i can't help it . . " 

you sweet thing—krauser could never resist you. not with your eyes peering up at him like that, not with you wrapping your lips around his girth again; he pushes almost every strand of hair out of the way, your soft locks now bundled up in his fist on the back of your head as he guides his cock back in. "i'll give you want, slut," he growled, shoving it back in with a loud moan. his balls slap against your chin, and you only whimpered, a hand dipping to rub messy circles on your cunt. 

"this is what you wanted, right?" 

his thrusts began, and they're just as spiteful as he is—with every drive of his hips stimulating your gag reflexes. "wanted to be—fuck. . facefucked like a—like a dirty whore," the last words were punctuated with hard slams, and krauser only laughed when he sees those pretty irises roll to the back of your head. "couldn't fuckin' wait, could you?" he chuckled darkly, holding your head down and rendering you immobile. you choked, grunting and whimpering, breath laboured as you struggled to breathe through your nose, but . . but . . your fingers kept rubbing against your aching clit, still so needy just for him.  

"you're choking but still rubbing your cunt—? look at you, god, look at you. you're so fucking slutty."

krauser grants you reprieve, pulling out of your throat and letting you breathe. "there you go, baby. breathe. breathe," the fastened hold on your head loosens, and krauser cradled your face, wiping off your filthy tears. "still with me?" you feel his thumb on your lips, and he knew it was a yes when you let your mouth envelop the thick phalange.  "my orally fixated girl," krauser laughed, retiring his hand from your face. "c'mere." helping you get up from the floor, krauser gently held you by the neck as he captured your lips, uncaring if he could taste his cum on your tongue, uncaring if he could smell his own scent on you. (that drove him wild, actually . . )

his tongue is practically in your mouth, kissing you with urgency as if it was the first time he's got you in a liplock. calloused hands roam your body, starting from your waist all the way down to your hips and rear where he possessively squeezed it in both his hands, making you squeak. he could easily manhandle you, and he did; breaking the kiss so he could hold you up by your legs and bring you to the bed. 

"krauser," you croaked, getting comfortable on the mattress. "i'm horny—need you to fuck me," "i know, baby," krauser's on his knees, the mattress dipping from his weight. "hips up," he impatiently tugged on your panties, and he drooled when he sees your transparent essence clinging on to the fabric of your undergarment. "so wet, all from having your throat fucked?" he grinned, teasing your slit with his middle finger. "uh-huh," you nodded, because, well, it was true! 

y'can't wait to be fucked, and you're just so lucky that krauser can't wait to fuck you, the blonde grabbing ahold of your ankles as his dick rests against your mons—you bit your lip, seeing how the tip was so close to reaching your navel. "keep these open," he growled, moving his hips so the head of his cock would prod against your slit. "you want this? beg." 

the squelching sounds from beneath you are lewd as he slapped his cock against your dripping pussy. "please, krauser," you whined. "i need you to fuck me," "beg haaaarder, c'mon. my girl can do better than that," he began to rub the head of his girth against your clit, strings of his pre were clinging on to both your sensitive tips. "need you to fuck me please—have your cock stretch my cunt, please, please," 

holding his lipstick-stained base, his hips move slowly, cock slowly slipping past your soaked folds; the first stretch is fucking heaven, and krauser grinned when he feels your legs quiver. his hold's back on your ankles, not even waiting for you to fully adjust as he buried his cock deep, deep into your pretty pussy. the stretch burns so, so good.

it didn't even take him more than a second as he began to pound into you, driving his cock as deep as he could—which he did successfully, seeing as to how he could see the subtle bulge from your lower tummy; he soaked up sight of you beneath him. "hnng—! fuck!" you cried out, as he grabbed your waist to pin you in place. "so biiig . . " you held on to the sheets as he rammed into you mercilessly. "yeah? you can take it. you're—h, haah . . you're my girl, y'can take it." 

you're just as wrapped around his finger as he is around yours, because him calling you his girl makes you whimper, makes you clench around his thick cock. "yeah? yeah, you fucking like that, huh?" cocky bastard; like he wasn't just whimpering for you a few minutes ago. but, he fucked you so good—filled you up so fucking good. 

"so wet, god. no one else can have you . . " he growled. the last part was supposed to be just whispered to himself, but you lovedliked it. he became territorial, your moans grew louder, and your pussy just reflexed around him. it was cute. your waist is freed, and the pillows beside you dip as krauser caged you with his muscular arms. you pout when his thrusts stopped, but embraced him with your arms. "why'd you stop?" you huffed, and krauser just clicked his tongue. "shh. mouth open," he commands, and you do so without hesitation—even sticking your tongue out for him—and krauser's quick to spit in that pretty mouth. 

krauser's balls twitched. fuck . . you really are his girl. he leans in to kiss you, beginning to ram into you faster. harder. for being such a good girl. "mphh!" your cries of bliss are swallowed by his lips, nails painfully dragging over his scarred, built back. your legs would flail with every thrust, your heels smacking against the dimples on his back everytime, but, fuck, who cares. krauser didn't care. he wouldn't give a fuck if you bit him, scratched him, cut him. 

"say you love my cock," krauser whispered against your skin, leaving wet, open-mouthed kisses on your cheek, jaw, and neck where he took the liberty to brand you with his teeth. "i love you—your cock, krauser. so much. 'm addicted," you were addicted alright, craning your neck for him as you let your eyes roll back. "yeah? you're addicted? me too, baby." he chuckled, lapping up the sweat. he's fucking nasty, god. 

his kisses moved to your collarbones, while he began to grope your pretty tits. how could he neglect these. "love your body, these tits, this fucking pussy," he looked up at you, and you were so beautiful succumbing to the pleasure that he gives you. the pleasure that only he could give you. all this praise from him—you can only take so much—feeling the familiar coil in your stomach tighten. and at this point, krauser has your body memorized. he can feel it, when you're writhing more than usual, wailing louder than usual. "i love all these reactions. i just know your body so well, baby. you love it when i press . . " 

you know exactly what he wanted to do, and you knew it would be your undoing, but you couldn't stop him even if you wanted to. you feel yourself squirm—feeling slightly ticklish—as he caressed your chest, your stomach, and then pressed at the spot just below your tummy, where he could feel the bump of his cock. this makes your body quiver—eyes wide at him as if you weren't expecting it, and his thrusts never faltered.

"here."

"krauser—♡!"

your orgasm takes you by surprise, cunt gushing all over him as he continued his pounding. "see? you're cumming already." "fuck—fuck! h-hngggggh!" you whimpered, holding onto him tight. "keep cumming. fuck, Y/N, you're so fucking—haah . .  messy," "thank you—thank youuu. ♡!" the thought of someone else witnessing your pure, unadulterated lust made him definitely mad, rutting desperately into you as if he wanted you to remember the shape of him. "i f-fucking love you—i love fucking you,"

and unfortunately for you, because you were too impatient earlier, he was nowhere near done, not even the ache of an orgasm creeping his mind. meanwhile, you easily fell apart when the hand pressing down on your tummy began to toy with your clit. he knew how to touch you, where to touch you—how could you not come undone? "krausheer—-♡ g'nna cum again," "yeah, go ahead. that's it, baby. keep squirting—you just love my cock that much, huh?" he grinned cruelly, adoring how you thrashed from overstimulation, all dumb with your mind turned to mush. pleasure fills you everywhere, causing your back to curve and arch as you're sent over the edge again. 

he mercifully lets you recuperate from your orgasms with slowing thrusts, eyes skimming over your mien. were you hurt? conscious? "still with me?" he asked in between gasps of air, voice gruff. you only nod, too fucked out. his cock's still deep in you, still painfully hard, still aching for you. "we can stop if you want," "noo," you huffed—only locking your legs around him tighter. krauser was pretty surprised, but he didn't complain. 

"you're such a freak, Y/N."

end.

A/N: thank you so much for reading! i really appreciate all your support! this will soon be crossposted on ao3. i am still sort of studying so very slow updates! but i've seen your requests and i have heard you all. more to come SOON!!!

[soapsbaby]

☆ Day 1 // First time // Leon Kennedy ☆

Summary: You're his first.

Characters: Leon Kennedy x Reader

Themes: NSFW (18+), oral (both receiving), PIV, virginity

Word Count: 1.5k

Leon quietly moaned into your kiss, hands tangled in your shirt as if he was desperate to have something to hold onto. 

His hair had fallen into his face, a smile on his face as you pulled back for a second to gently swipe it away so that he could see. 

The reaction to your makeout session was hard against your thigh. 

You pushed your hand between your two bodies, running over his erection, smiling as he let out a quiet moan.

“I’m… I’m sorry.”

You gave him a quick kiss again.

“Nothing to be sorry for.” 

“What is it, hm?”

“I… I have to tell you something.”

His hips bucked into your touch, almost involuntarily, an embarrassed whine escaping his throat as he realized the way his desperate body had betrayed him.

His pale cheeks were now bright red and you could tell that he was struggling to even look you into the eyes.

“I’ve… I’ve never done this before.” 

“What do you mean, sweetheart?”

“I’ve never… Slept with anyone.”, he said so quietly that you could barely understand him. 

You hid your surprise well, luckily. 

You gently cupped his face, he eased into your touch immediately. He was so receptive, so eager for any of the attention you could provide him. 

“Do you want me to be your first?” 

He nodded, still bright red.

“Yes. I’d… Really like that.”

Your hands slipped under his shirt, fingers exploring the ridges of his muscles under his soft skin.

His lips found yours again, kissing you needily.

“Please be my first.”, he whispered, a certain sense of desperation in his voice.

“I want to take off your shirt.”, you said softly, watching his reaction closely, hoping he wouldn’t feel any type of discomfort by your request, but beyond blushing a little harder, he seemed eager.

He pushed himself up from the mattress to give you access to remove his shirt, pulling it over his head. 

The flush on his cheek went all the way down his neck, across his pale chest. 

“You’re so beautiful.”, you said quietly, your hands roaming his chest still, taking in all of him. 

He tugged on your shirt until he had removed it as well, tossing it to the floor.

His eyes scanned your body, gaze falling to your breasts, then jumping up to your eyes again, as if there was any shame in how he wanted to look at you.

"It's okay. You can look. You can even touch if you want, you know?"

You unclasped your bra with a smile, baring your breasts to him. 

"Are you sure?" 

You grabbed his hands, moving them to your chest, smiling as you could feel his inexperience in the way that he touched you, awkwardly kneading your flesh.

Your body tensed as one of his thumbs slid across your nipples, feeling it harden under his touch. 

"Do you like that?", he asked, looking up at you with those puppy eyes of his. 

You nodded, now you were the one to blush.

He hesitated for a moment, then he leaned in, his lips closing around your nipple, tongue darting around it.

His hand moved to the small of your back, anchoring you as your body arched into his touch.

"Fuck… Leon…", you muttered, sighing as his other hand came upward to massage your other breast with a new found confidence from the way you reacted to him.

His hands were so gentle on you, as if he was afraid he'd hurt you otherwise.

"I want to taste you.", he said quietly, lips still pressed to your chest, but slowly working up to your neck.

The hand on your back traveled forward, the tip of his index finger slipping into the waistband of your shorts.

You could see the eagerness in his flushed face, he genuinely meant it. 

You didn't answer, instead just pushing your hips upward, letting him undress the rest of you. 

"You're so beautiful.", he said softly, carefully pushing you back on the bed so he could get easier access to you.

He pushed your legs apart with a gentleness that sent shivers down your spine, kissing across your parted thighs as he worked his way closer to your core.

His eyes fluttered shut as he dragged his tongue across you for a first, almost hesitant taste.

You ran your fingers through his hair, biting back a moan.

"You taste so good.", he whispered, before he leant back in, shorter, quicker licks around your clit now.

Even though his inexperience was obvious, he read you like an open book, interpreting your every noise until he had learnt how to work you, where you needed his tongue, his lips.

"Why are you so good at this?", you panted, feeling yourself slowly build up to your release, your breaths coming in stutters.

He didn't answer, his arm wrapping around your thigh a little tighter as he devoured you.

The moment he sucked your clit between his lips was when you lost it, arching yourself against his face, riding out your orgasm against his lips.

"Fuck… Fuck.", you quietly moaned, grabbing him and pulling him upwards so you could kiss him again.

Your taste was on his lips and you could feel the desperation on him. 

"You did so well.", you muttered as you slowly regained your composure.

His hips grinded against your hand as you palmed him through his pants, he was rock hard.

"I'm sorry you got so little attention.", you said quietly, but he immediately shook his head.

"No. Don't apologize. I could do that forever."

He licked his lips with a grin as if to drive the point home further.

"Still. It's your turn."

He nodded obediently, moving his hips off the bed so you could take his pants off, dragging his boxers down with them.

His erection strained against his stomach.

He bit his lip as you wrapped your hand around him, giving him a gentle first stroke.

His eyes followed you as you bent down before him, kissing along the V lines of his hips.

“Please don’t tease me.”, he whispered breathily, his hand gently in your hair, but not pushing you.

The desperation in his little moans made you try even harder, doing your best to draw even more noises out of him.

He groaned quietly as you took the tip of his cock into your mouth, his body tensing at the new sensation.

“Please…” He didn’t finish his plea, but you knew what he wanted, taking him further into your mouth, tongue swirling around him. 

“How’s that?”, you asked quietly, licking up his shaft with a smile, replacing your mouth with your hand for a moment.

“So good.” He looked at you with a look on his face that you could only interpret as awe, his eyes glazed over in desire.

“Do you want to fuck me, then?” 

“But fuck… I don’t know how long I can last like this.”

There was something akin to embarrassment on his face, but you shut it down immediately, sitting up so you could put a kiss on his lips, gently reassuring him.

You climbed onto him, grabbing his hands and placing them onto your hips, giving him something to hold onto.

He nodded eagerly, even though you could see the nervousness on his face. Your choice of words flustered him even more.

“Hey, there is nothing you can do wrong, okay?”

You kissed him again, gently, passionately, until you pushed him backwards onto the bed.

He whined quietly as you grabbed his cock, lining it up with your pussy. 

You gave him a questioning look, he just answered with a nod, so you slowly lowered yourself on him.

His lips parted with a gasp, grip tightening on you as he took in the feeling, overwhelmed by your warmth and wetness.

“So fucking good.”, he repeated.

You leaned forward, kissing him hungrily, drowning out his quiet moans with your lips as you slowly lifted your hips before moving downward again, giving you a few slow, first movements to adapt to his size.

“You feel so good.”, he panted, his eyes finally opening again, watching you in amazement, eyes wandering down to the spot where your bodies met.

You slowly picked up the pace, always keeping watch of him and his reaction, but there was nothing on his pretty face other than adoration.

His body fit against yours almost perfectly, the way his hands were grabbing you, your chest against his, his cock inside of you.

“I think I’m close already.”, he said, almost apologetically.

You stopped your movement for a moment, gently cupping your face.

There were beads of sweat on his forehead, his hair damp against his forehead.

“Do you want to try to be on top?”

He nodded. He grabbed you without slipping out of you, pushing you to be the one on your back.

He pounded into you quicker than you had ridden him earlier, panting heavily next to your ear, lips pressed against your neck.

“I’m so fucking close.”, he muttered, his voice breathy.

“Keep going, then.” 

You grabbed his face, pulling him in for another kiss as you could feel his thrusts start to stutter, hands grasping the sheets next to your head.

He pulled out of you, leaving you almost painfully empty as he shot thick ropes of cum onto your stomach, moaning desperately against your lips.

With a final groan he collapsed on top of you, easing into your embrace as you ran your fingers through his hair. 

“That was perfect.”

[another-fanfic-haven]

Perfection

Link to the previous part Word count: 720 And a song :) KMFDM - Megalomaniac

You always aim for perfection, to be the best, to be first, and to be at the top of the line.

And so, you ended here as a mere rookie in the Special Tactics and Rescue Services. You tried to set your place as the someone; the youngest, the smartest, the most courageous. But it all failed. You weren't the youngest - Rebecca was by two years. And who was the smartest? Of course, it was your Captain. Let's not even start with the courage. That list would be too long, and you - at the very bottom of it.

There was one thing you excelled at - technology. Even Brad Vickers, the IT specialist was starstruck by your abilities and how you stayed glued to the screen, seemingly busy, until he noticed you used the devices to chat on Usenet and play Telnet games. All after you completed your job for the day, of course. For an untrained eye, it looked like black magic - letters and symbols flying across the screen with no sense or reason, but for you? It made perfect sense. That was your intention, to stay busy, then go home, hopefully without being scolded. You didn't have much to return to, anyway. A small studio, which you had to share. Brilliant. At least it kept the bills low.

You envied them. The look in your eyes as they returned from their missions, more often than not in soiled uniforms, scratches, and other random injuries. They seemed so proud. So victorious. You wanted that for yourself. Why did they never take you for the missions? Hell! Even Rebecca from the Bravo team was out and about more often than you! And she's just a medic! And you are well. Even if you don't know what part were you playing in the S.T.A.R.S.? An IT guy, perhaps? Computer magician? Or just someone to fill the space, ready to be made redundant on a whim.

And so, your hate and disdain slowly grew within you, making your blood boil, watching them from over your workstation screen, hearing their voices retelling the stories. God. So annoying.

You preferred the silence. If you didn't finish a task during the day, you'd eagerly stay overtime to work in piece, at your own pace, over a cup of coffee.

"What are you doing here so late?" A voice rang behind you. Before you could react, you saw someone's hand resting on the desk, just next to the keyboard you've been typing on. Your body froze - your Captain was right behind you. You ought to be standing up in attention, greeting him properly. Not freeze in place!

"I'm finishing something up, apologies." You managed to utter, feeling a lump forming in your throat. You wanted to disappear at that moment more than anything. To hell with that assignment! Tomorrow's another day.

Albert straightened up, leaning his body weight over your chair. You heard him smirk, then... felt a pat on the shoulder? His hand lingered just a while too long, but oddly not uncomfortably.

"Good job. Don't overwork yourself." He stated the last phrase seeming like a command.

You sat there for a moment longer, frozen. You just got praised? It certainly sounded like it.

You heard him chuckle, probably shaking his head. He probably stood a couple of steps away now, his arms crossed on his chest, his eyes locked on your posture from behind these dark glasses.

You were too shy to look up, maybe for the better. You just heard him hurry back into office, disappearing into the distance, stopping for a moment.

"Get some rest. It's an order, rookie." His voice carried through the deserted office before his steps disappeared around the corner. The way he pronounced your nickname, there was a hint of kindness instead of the usual snicker or a jab from your colleagues.

You nodded frantically, not sure whether he saw it or not.

You looked around the office - the buzz of the lights filling the silence, creating an even more lonely feel to the room. You turned your workstation, cleaned up the mess of papers on your desk, and turned to the exit.

That was one hell of an evening now, was it? Perhaps that cold captain is not that bad after all.

[desired-misery]

INGRID HUNNIGAN IN MY FICS PT 3

[BECAUSE I LOVE HER SO MUCH! FUCK YEAH, HUNNIGAN!!!]

Part One + Part Two

If there is one thing she can take solace in, it is that Condor would have complained to her face if she wasn’t performing to his expectations.

“Are you going to quote movie lines at me?” Ingrid asks, amused. Condor is quite the movie buff. Most of his references slide over Ingrid’s head, but Tony likes them a lot.

It is strange to be able to see Condor smile in response to something she says. With audio only interactions, she has to rely on verbal cues to gauge his mood.

 Ingrid keeps her mouth shut and banishes her curious thoughts from the forefront of her mind. If she needs to know, she’ll be informed. [line break] The time to inform her is— apparently— after someone fires a smoke bomb into Vaughn’s office from the exterior window.

Ingrid can’t hear the other end of the call. Whatever the other person on the other end is saying, it incenses Condor. His response is a vicious, hair-raising growl that doesn't sound like it should originate from a human throat.

“Shut up!” Condor snaps, rounding on him— Ingrid winces. Condor’s calmness is only a thin veneer, it is not actually real.

What on earth is under control?! Ingrid bites her tongue. She can tolerate many things, but being left in the dark is not one of them. Not when the situation is critical— which it sounds like it is. She can’t do her job if she doesn’t know what’s going on.

Condor’s reply is immediate. Ingrid automatically scrunches her nose. “Ma'am” is a weird thing to spring on her out of nowhere. If he addresses her at all, it is only by her last name.

Condor lies so easily, so quickly. It is a little scary, hearing him be able to do that on the fly. Is that a skill he has to practice often? Ingrid does not think she has heard him lie to this extent— not to her knowledge.

“Oh my god!” Ingrid is muted— thank god she is muted. Her reaction is completely unprofessional—

 Sometimes, Condor (and other operatives) remind her that there is a fundamental difference between themselves and most of the population. As closely as they work together, there are things that Ingrid will never understand. It makes her wonder what kinds of circumstances and personalities produce people like Condor.

"No offense, sir, but saying that someone is alive after an entire building is dropped on them does not inspire much confidence.”

Ingrid keeps her mouth shut so she does not ask how on earth the hospital staff reacted to Condor asking to leave in the condition he is in. He can barely walk. Surely they did not want him to go. 

“This isn’t about work,” Ingrid says, even more firmly decided when faced with the possibility that she was not going to be allowed. “If Leon needs me there, I’ll go.”

Ingrid is not a violent person. The urge to hurt people does not come to her often. But when she arrives to the hospital— some kind of military building, an isolated wing— and she sees the restraint system on the tipped over hospital bed, the blood stains on the floor and on Leon’s hospital gown, the way he is hunched in the corner, eyes glassy and red and wild—

"If he is putting up a fight then he doesn't need medical attention. I know that is not what you are expecting to hear, but if you can get him out of immediate danger, Agent Kennedy will be just fine.

[virologikal]

𝐒𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐦𝐞 𝐚 𝐒𝐡𝐢𝐩 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚 𝐍𝐮𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐈 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐖𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐚 𝐊𝐢𝐬𝐬

@samediankh requested: ship: Chris && Wesker ⸻ 9: ﹝…in public﹞

Untypical in times of peace, no trepidations remained in this day and age - at the dawn of a new world. Whatever held him back years prior, had it been reason, discipline or dangers he now could only scoff at, all of it had fallen away the moment he let his mask slip in the laboratory beneath the Spencer Mansion.

A lifetime away were the days in the sunlight, of morning coffee and idle chatter between people he had handpicked. His elite soldiers, once destined for something greater. Who he had intended to remain at his side as he ascended, and yet most of them proved to be disappointments. Most, but not all of them.

Amidst the sobering realization of the S.T.A.R.S. failing at the first curveball tossed their way, a select few had prevailed time and time again.

One of them now stood before him, amber eyes burning with a passion not unlike that which he remembered fanning in moments wholly different in nature, skin pressed against skin as they never seemed to be close enough.

An impulse still very much present in the moment, it seemed, as Wesker had exploited a moment of distraction to close in on Chris, his body moving at inhuman speed and with an ease unlike anything he had experienced before the Mansion Incident.

Gloved fingers had closed around the other man’s throat, exerting only a shred of the power living within as he smashed his former subordinate’s back into the next wall, a curl forming around his lips as he could hear the air leave the body in front of him.

Ignoring clawing fingers on his arm leisurely, Wesker pressed himself closer, leather against tactical gear, material creaking under the pressure applied while he could feel the disbelieving gaze of the vermin intruding on their little dance resting on him, wide-eyed. He ignored the woman as he had for most of their fight, him only toying with Chris while tossing her around like a rag doll whenever she was stupid enough to get in the way.

“Take pride, Chris,” the blond near whispered, a strange tone living deep in his voice, almost reminiscent of excitement - an emotional reaction he had never shown this clearly before, “...for a God has favored you.”

Tinted glass obscuring his eyes until this moment were not enough to hide the red hue now glowing in a foreboding, inhuman way; visible to Chris only for a heartbeat at most, before Wesker leaned in even closer in one smooth motion. Hard lips pressed against once soft and pliant ones, now battle-bruised and dry from the fights before, their bow downturned in a clear sign of denial.

It mattered not.

Soon enough, Chris would see the glory into which he had ascended, and he would make him his right hand, his prophet, the one leading the stray sheep remaining on this mortal plane to greatness.

Still ignoring the unwelcome bystander now releasing a shocked gasp at the sight of what played out before her eyes, Wesker pressed ever closer, thus preventing the other one from using his legs to fight him, while his free hand grabbed the brunet’s wrist. Angling his head, he attempted to deepen the kiss - as public a declaration as Wesker had ever been willing to commit to - but hissed when teeth bore down into his lower lip, breaking skin and mixing the iron taste of blood into the connection.

A far cry from the playfulness of days gone by, he pulled back, face pulled into a grimace of vexation and irritation alike, irrational impulses once again taking over as his hand let go of Chris’ wrist and instead connected a fist to his jaw, the cracking sound seemingly finally being enough to pull his alleged partner out of her stupor.

Anticipating the attack before it was even executed, Wesker slinked back into the shadows with another fast motion, snarling as he spit blood onto the floor.

Clearly it would take him some more convincing for Chris to come around, and to do so he would need to get rid of this Sheva Alomar before all else.

[charcuteriecrab]

Please Don't Leave Me (Part 3)

A Resident Evil fic request

For @leonisdumbasallhell

Rating: M

Contains: blood, strong language, description of injuries, bodily fluids

Tags: Married Chreon, Infection, Major Character Injury

Word Count: 1424

Part 3/? Part 1 <-Previous | Next ->

Leon’s head fucking hurt.

It felt like a thick, hazy veil was wrapped around his brain, squeezing tight and constricting his every thought. What happened? Why did his head hurt so bad? And why was he so hot? He hissed, bringing his hand up to rub his throbbing scalp—

A hand grabbed his, stopping him, and Leon’s eyes fluttered open to a dimmed room, dark enough to be comfortable for his eyes, but he couldn't see his surroundings very well. What—

“Don’t, Leon, you’re hurt,” a deep voice murmured softly, the sound not hurting Leon’s ears like he thought it would. The sweet tone was familiar and he found himself leaning towards the words, something wet falling from his forehead with a plop. 

“Chris?” he groaned, each breath he made a struggle, his ribs protesting with every inhalation, but knowing that his husband was at his side made him feel better. Clearly, he got injured during the mission somehow. That explained the pain he was in. “What happened?” 

The man made a face of worry, his expression visible in the white light coming from a computer monitor at his side as he grabbed a damp rag from the bed. It must have been what fell from his head. “You don’t remember?” he asked, frowning.

No…he didn’t. All he remembered was the start of the mission…splitting up to better scan the area for the target. He didn’t want to, but he eventually agreed it was their best chance at getting in and getting out as fast as possible. After that was…nothing. He made a sound of discomfort, straining to try and remember—

“Hey hey, it’s okay, baby,” Chris said, grabbing and squeezing Leon’s hand, his husband’s fingers calloused and firm, and he sighed deeply at the touch, relaxing his shoulders back. “Don’t hurt yourself. Your memory will come back eventually.”

Leon closed his eyes for a moment, licking his cracked lips, tasting the metal tang of blood. “I remember us splitting up, but nothing after that…" he told Chris, memories of the man waving at him with a smile as they went in opposite directions the last thing he could picture. "What happened to me?”

Chris’s eyes glazed over in an expression Leon would best describe as haunted and he stared at a fixed point on the bed, heaving a slow exhale. “When you didn’t show up to the rendezvous point, I tried to contact you on the comms—you told me you were hit in the head and…infected.”

Leon’s eyes widened. Infected? Memories of Spain flooded his mind, the aching feeling of something foreign under his skin, of the parasite in his chest cavity gnawing away at his insides and leaving him nauseous and weak. He swallowed back the bile the thought brought, blinking away his discomfort.

“I found you laying in a pool of your own blood with a nasty head wound and a deep gash in your arm.” Chris stopped for a moment. “Your veins—they were so dark, I-I thought I was going to lose you.”

Leon let out a shaky breath, reaching a hand to cup Chris’s cheek, prickly stubble brushing against his palm. “I’m here.” He ignored his clearly visible veins, not daring to look. He was sure his whole body looked like that.

Chris placed his hand over Leon’s, smiling, eyes glassy. “I know. But you scared me.”

Leon frowned, gaze falling to the bed. “I’m sorry.”

The man shook his head, lifting Leon’s chin up to look at him and saying firmly, “It’s not your fault.”

If only Leon could remember if it was or not. It took a lot to get the jump on him. Either someone very skilled attacked him, or he made a stupid mistake. Regardless of the cause, he still failed and got himself fucking hurt, leaving Chris and the others vulnerable. 

Sweat streamed into his eye and Leon whined, leaning back into the pillow and taking a moment to breathe. “I’m hot.” He cautiously wiped at his brow, wary of the wound and Chris's gaze.

“That’s the fever. You're fighting off whatever got into you at the docks. Rebecca thinks it's a mutated version of the T-virus, or something new, but she’s testing it right now to make sure.” Chris looked like he was about to cry and Leon’s heart hurt at the pain on his husband’s face. He hated seeing Chris in pain. “Do you want me to get Rebecca?” 

“No, don’t bother her, it’s fine.” He didn't want to take her away from her work, especially since it was all for Leon anyway. He could handle this on his own. It was just a fever.

The man turned to look at the monitor set up beside the bed, monitoring his vitals, he assumed. “Your fever’s rising. Up to 102.1 now. Those meds must have worn off or they aren’t working anymore.” He sounded panicky, but turned to Leon with a calmness he knew was a mask. “I need to re-wet that rag. I’ll be right back, if you need me, yell. I’m only down the hall.”

Leon nodded with a hum. "Okay."

Chris left the room, bright, warm light streaming into the room and Leon closed his eyes as the pain in his head skyrocketed. As fast as the light appeared, it went back to darkness with the click of the door. Leon was alone now, and he tried not to let himself panic. Chris was coming back. 'He's just down the hall,' he told himself.

Leon sniffed in shakily. He couldn't remember a time he felt this sick before, at least not in front of Chris. The worst he got was a cold every couple of years. Claire would always make fun of him for never getting sick, lamenting about her yearly flu whenever Leon was in town for it. He brought soup and flu medicine and they would watch movies together, sometimes with Chris if he was with him. The last time Leon felt anywhere close to this was when he had the Plagas in him, which incidentally, was the last time he was infected. Sometimes he thought he could still feel it wriggling around inside of him, latched onto his spinal cord as it grew inside his chest cavity.

Leon could tell he had bruised ribs—not broken because he could still move around without too much pain in his chest, but his head, God, it felt like a hoard of zombies were slamming into his skull. There was a bandage around his temples, the wound pulsing, and every thought and movement threatened to send bile up his throat. He knew nausea usually accompanied concussions but fuck it hurt. Leon swallowed once again, the taste of stomach acid on his tongue as a wave of pain shot through his abdomen.

He breathed shallowly, trying not to throw up. He didn't want to make a mess for Chris. His stomach churned and Leon groaned, clutching his belly with a tight grip. Fuck, fuck, fuck. His mouth turned hot and he gasped for air, leaning over the side of the bed before his stomach clenched, spasming, and he expelled whatever he ate last all over the floor. He coughed, sucking in air in large gulps. Fuck.

The door clicked and light steamed in, but Leon was too weak to move from where he lay and everything hurt.

"Oh shit, Leon." Footsteps rushed to his side and hands grabbed at his head gently, rubbing his cheek. Leon whined at the movement, closing his eyes. "Hey, baby, you okay?"

Leon tried to shake his head but couldn't. It was like his body didn't want to respond to his wishes, heat coming off his skin in waves. Chris made a sound of distress and moved him into his back again, the pillow behind him soaked with chilled sweat. 

"Lee, honey, can you hear me?"

Leon tried to show he could, his eyelids fluttering but never fully opening, to his dismay. He groaned, hoping that would work. 

"I-I'm going to call Rebecca," Chris said, voice wavering. He could hear the tears in his eyes. "Your fever's getting too high."

That made sense. His chest felt like it was on fire and each breath sent searing pain through his body. His head swam and he felt like he was falling down a deep chasm, unable to move as darkness crept into his vision until there was nothing at all, the concerned voices around him fading away into the void.

He exhaled. And then everything went black.

[honeyandbloodpoetry]

The Samurai and the Open Vein

A story about the history between Albert Wesker and Jake Muller's mother.

Mila Muller is an immigrant from Edonia to America trying to pave a future for herself. She is ailed by a chronic blood disease and pursues a future in science both to help others and to help herself--ending up as a measly receptionist at an Umbrella Corps location instead of following her dreams. Mila has never thought much of herself and her status in America has only solidified those feelings. The days become monotonous and forgettable.

As fate would have it she meets a closed off but charming older man and romance begins to blossoms. She opens her veins and her heart to him, and he takes them both without abandon... Could she really find happiness here? Perhaps salvation?

Mrs. Muller's story. Until the end.

Read it here.

[adaptacy]

One-shots/Mini Fic Commissions (OPEN)

Do you have a plot idea in mind for one of your favorite characters, but don't have the time to bring it to life, or would prefer to have the final product be a surprise? I do a lot of writing in my free-time, and have experience with long-term fanfics and one-shots, especially when it comes to working off of a request! I have plenty examples on my page, accessible via my masterlists.

No options for OC-only works right now, but they may be an option in the future.

I may request using your commission as an example work. It is up to you ultimately whether or not it is posted, but please remember that posting example commissions is a nice way to advertise my work!

Max word count is 6k.

Base pricing:

Canon character (No relationship): $10 per 1k words. Canon character(s) x Reader: $15 per 1k words. Smut/NSFW works are $5 extra per 1k words. Canon character(s) x Canon character: $15 per 1k words. Smut/NSFW works are $8 extra per 1k words. Canon character(s) x Original Character: $20 per 1k words. Smut/NSFW works are $8 extra per 1k words. (Will require a description of your character's appearance & personality.)

Discounted works:

Canon character (No relationship): $5 per 1k words. Canon character(s) x Reader: $10 per 1k words. Smut/NSFW works are $5 extra per 1k words. Canon character(s) x Canon character: $12 per 1k words. Smut/NSFW works are $8 extra per 1k words. Canon character(s) x Original Character: $18 per 1k words. Smut/NSFW works are $8 extra per 1k words. (Will require a description of your character's appearance & personality.)

Fandoms I will do commissions for:

Baldur's Gate 3 Resident Evil Texas Chainsaw Massacre

(For more information on which characters I have experience with, visit this post.)

Active Discounts:

Gale Dekarios [BG3]

Minthara Baenre [BG3]

Leon S. Kennedy [RE]

I reserve the right to deny any commission I am not comfortable with.

Character A.I. Bots (OPEN)

Want a high quality bot to roleplay/chat with? Do you have a bot that you've made, but the bot isn't behaving how you'd like it to? I've made many roleplay-purpose bots that are literate (at least as literate as the word limit allows), in-character, and well-written. Let me bring your ideas to life! For examples, visit my masterlists.

You will have full control over the final product. I simply craft the definition, starter message, and other details before handing them off to you.

Custom Bot (From Scratch):

$10 for canon/pre-existing characters. Base $15 for original characters, pricing may fluctuate based on the complexity of the character.

Bot Editing/Rewriting:

$5 for canon/pre-existing characters. $10 for original characters. Must have a premade character definition & starter message.

Payment

I accept payment on Venmo or Cashapp. Initial payment will be half (rounded up) of the full price, and you will get previews of the work so you know it's being completed. Once it is finished, you will need to pay the other half before receiving the full, unwatermarked work. Once you do, you'll get it as a PDF, a google doc, and/or in a message (only available thru Discord.) It's up to you how you want to receive it.

Wait time may fluctuate based on how many active commissions I have, but that will be communicated to you before you make your purchase. Ideally it will only take 1-3 days to complete.

You can email me ( adaptacycomms@gmail.com ), message me on Tumblr, or message me on discord ( adaptacy ) to discuss pricing/payment/your commission! I'm most active at night time - I am in the Eastern time zone (EST) and will do my best to answer/reply to you as quickly as possible.

[d-a-n-n-y-y]

How every different Y/N’s getting ready to be featured in fanfiction across different fandoms rn:

[rafey-baby]

hidden (series masterlist)

outlaw!rafe x pogue!reader

cw: hostage/stockholm syndrome situation? mentions of murder & violence, some angst & smut + fluffy ending

couldn’t help but re-edit all the parts in this one as well

part one

part two

part three

part four

part five

[mirainwonderland]

Leon Kennedy One Shot

Content: fluff, established relationship, allusion to mature themes (bondage?)but fades to black so no real NSFW wanted to keep it pg

Pairing: Leon X reader

Synopsis: You get bored and tie a ribbon around his bicep

A/N: I wrote the first bit of this when I was half asleep lol idk I thought it turned out bad but I reread, edited, and finished it and now I’m happy with it so enjoyyy ^_^ I think the concept is cute and I wanted to write it outside of a smutty context (even though technically it ends up there but whatever) have fun x

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

“There!” You announce, sitting cross-legged on the couch while Leon works on his computer beside you. He’d been at it for hours, and you were admittedly a little bored. He kept saying “Almost done babe”, but that felt like hours ago now. So with nothing better to do, you decide to amuse yourself by getting some of your pink ribbon and tying the most perfect bow you could around his bicep while he typed away on some boring report. Leon had asked you what the hell you were doing, but you shrugged, and he just let you, most of his focus on work he needs to finish.

It had taken you way too many tries to get it this perfect, and you grin at your accomplishment as the tips of your fingers tickle the bunny ears of the satin bow. It’s something you’ve secretly always wanted to try. You loved his arms and seeing the delicate fabric of the ribbon tied around his muscles like some spiffy package that was all yours was tantalizing. It was satisfying to see his calloused muscles adorned with a signature of something that was so distinctly you, that you can’t help but feel a little spark of warmth and pride as a smile lights up your face.

He spares a glance over his shoulder at your little piece of art, a ghost of a smile not quite manifesting on his face in its entirety.

“Pretty.” He humors you, clicking his mousepad a couple of times in half-baked attention. You crinkle your nose, huffing a puff of air through it. Even if he’s mostly focused on work, he can’t help himself when it comes to giving you a little bit of a (lovingly) hard time. And he’d be lying if he told himself didn’t think your little pink ribbon was cute.

“Hey!” You protest as his bicep suddenly flexes, the ribbon popping at its tension point and fluttering onto the cushion of the couch.

“Stoppp…!” You draw out the word in a light-heartedly annoyed whine, picking the tatters of your little art piece off the couch.

You grab a new strand of ribbon, tying it around his bicep once again in three or four tries, biting your lip in concentration. Leon dulls an affectionate smirk as he watches you out of the corner of his eye, his attention shifting over more to your little antics. You lean back, blowing a strand of hair from your face.

He has to do it again.

“No don’t— no!” You scold, grabbing onto his arm when he begins to flex his bicep again. Your hands don’t fit all the way around of course, put you still push your palms towards each other into the muscle on either side, trying to force him to relax and not mess up your little masterpiece.

He chuckles, the sound vibrating in his chest and sending warm tingles down your back at the domesticity of it as he relaxes the muscle. It’s not often you see him this relaxed, and it feels really nice whenever you catch a glimpse of this side of him.

His computer is discarded, and in a flash he grabs your hands, pinning your wrists together as he reaches for your vulnerable sides. You erupt into an uncontrollable fit of laughter as he tickles you, his bicep flexing and relaxing under the ribbon still tied to his arm.

“Let’s see how you like it. C’mere.” He grabs a strand of ribbon himself, winding it around your wrists and tying them off so you’re stuck. You squeal as he throws your arms a loop around his neck, and nuzzles your nose and face, making you writhe and giggle beneath him ticklishly as his hands ruthlessly attack your sides.

Your elbows dig into his shoulders as you laugh, writhing wildly under him. Curse your ticklish spots and sensitive nerve endings, and screw him for knowing where they are.

“Stop! Sto-“ You’re cut off as his fingers flatten against your ribs and his lips abruptly press against yours in a breathless flare of a kiss.

Traces of breathless laughter spill from your mouth when he releases them, as your chest heaves up and down against his for air.

“I’m stuck!” Your wrists writhe against the bindings of silk, eliciting no reaction of sympathy from Leon like you intended. “Leon-“

“Nah, I like you like this.” Refusing to help you, he peck your lips again, pressing doting little kisses all over your cheeks and nose. You erupts into soft giggled again, making warmth flood through his chest and invigorate his tired muscles.

He pulls back again to look down at your rosy face.

“Untie me.”

His gaze flickers to the ceiling as if in thought momentarily before returning to you. His voice rumbles deep in his chest, vibrating into yours. “Mm… No.”

“Leon!” You whine, making him chuckle again and drop his lips to yours once more. He snatches you up in his arms so suddenly you squeal, fingers digging into the back of his shirt as he bounces you once in his arms for a better grip.

“I’ve got a pretty little package,” He says walking with you to your bedroom, nuzzling your face affectionately, making you show him that adorable smile he loves. “And I’m gonna open it.”

And open it he does.

All night long.

[clitorphosis]

SPIT TO SEE THE SHINE

Vendetta Leon S. Kennedy x reader |18+ MDNI. DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT, KIDNAPPING, DUB CON, smut, age gap (reader is in 20s, Leon is 37) female reader, abusive relationship, implied alcoholism, stockholm syndrome, creampie, unprotected sex, vaginal sex, use of ‘daddy’ (not a lot), implied erectile disfunction lmao, victim blaming, fingering, implied physical and sexual violence, forced breeding.

Summary: life gets lonelier after 30s, the realization hits harder Leon and the way to cope with it is to get his hands on alcohol… too bad booze tends to encourage him to not be a good man - ending up with a younger girl in his apartment. Maybe it is a grave mistake, but Leon is just a man and who doesn’t make them? notes: uhm, this may be a lil bit self indulgent, sorry for that :3 I DONT CONDONE THIS BEHAVIOR IN REAL LIFE!!! reblogs, asks and any kind of feedback or interaction are really appreciated! :3

tags: @withonly-sweetheart

Mama has told you not to trust strangers, the concern was referred to the men, but your ears have never held her words for a time longer than a day. Nor did you remember her words when an attractive, older man noticed you and was nice enough to ask you out. That night was supposed to be a little date, giddy and happy jumping into the front seat of his car. That’s the last thing you remember. Eventually, you can not fathom how this happened - the day later your head hurt as you were forced to swallow the hard pill: you got kidnapped by your date.

The first month was insufferable and painful, slowly growing out of your ‘rebellious attitude’ and memorizing his body language like a child in an abusive household. His gaze is everywhere, keeping you locked up in the room when he is not present, a reminder to you that there is no free choice. The food, clothes, and your free time were defined by Leon’s mood and taste which… Liked to swing, creating a mess for you both, not knowing if he was genuinely ashamed of what he had done. You hated him, dreaming about the day when his throat would be sliced, painting your hands with red just to breathe in the air of freedom.

Mama knows best. No, Leon knows best.

Sometimes Leon is mean, without hesitation, sharp words can be thrown at you when he is drunk. Blaming his misery on you. Trying not to be affected by them, not enough to avoid some of them as they cling to your mind - circling as a reminder.

“You deserve this, what did you think a man would want from a woman?”,

“you are better dead”,

“you asked for this”. Did you actually?

Sometimes he is the nicest guy around here. Showering you with tenderness and care, trying to have a normal conversation, but not daring to look into your eyes. Ashamed probably, which was bittersweet and pleasant, but confusing too. Like a couple. You promised yourself to not change the way you feel about him, even if he is sweet. Not like you have a lot of options now.

Certainly, Stockholm syndrome wasn’t going to avoid you, it didn’t take long either. You aren’t special and Leon looked so lonely, returning after work mostly devastated. The expression someone would have had while grieving over something not obtainable. Not even daring to look into your face, ignoring you until his hands do not reach the booze - drinking himself until his mood changes to a handsy one. Physical or sexual. Sometimes both. And Leon is lonely, he told it himself once. Naturally or not, anger has changed to pity, while hate is mixed with something affectionate towards him. You can’t help yourself.

As someone has said - from love to hatred is one step.

So the routine has become clear after a month of staying here, sitting on the floor and watching TV while Leon is behind you. Big brother is watching you - no, Leon is watching you. Drunk or not, monitoring whatever is on the screen is appropriate in his eyes. Not for too long you were concentrating on the blue gleam coming from the screen, illuminating both frames in the living room, now like a natural thing for you both - his fingers end up in your panties to rub your clit in slow and lazy circles. His chest is pressing against your back, focused on your expressions and squirming. His calloused fingertips press harder against your sensitive clit, to hear your voice. Your body is the biggest enemy here - like a Pavlovian dog, reacting to his touch quickly and eagerly. The skin of his fingers is wet and soaked with your slick already, in no time, filling the room with squelching and wet sounds as your moans become harder to keep to yourself. Writhing and trying to shift away, but your body tends to become immobile most of the time - there is no fight or flight, just freeze.

“You look so miserable. It is reassuring, so cute too” In misery, together. His tone is the one someone would use for a dog. Always using that one with you, but you are not a dog. Not like you have any other choices right now, other than taking like a good girl and not lamenting.

If someone would have asked you, Leon is shameless with you, not the one to be shy after a bottle of whiskey, even if he can’t get it up sometimes. His fingers nudge your soaked hole, which aches for his attention. It clenches around nothing, pathetically and you disappointedly whine at the emptiness inside you.

“Come on, open your legs, be a nice girl for Daddy” Leon cooed. His lips brush over your ear, not giving you a chance to do this by yourself - forcing your legs roughly to part wider. “So much better now”

Your hips shift, arching your back as his two fingers intrude into your pussy, curling sweetly inside it to push them at your favorite sweet spot - to enforce more moans at every jolt of pleasure hitting your body. Leon likes that, watching you squirm and open your mouth like a fish desperate for air cause of him. His grip on your jaw is tight, painful even - there are going to be bruises tomorrow and he will be apologizing like a madman.

“Daddy has been so miserable these days too, fucking Redfield is always hassling me.” You don’t know who is that. The sound of his hand fumbling with his belt and the fly of his jeans reach your ears, a loud noise of them falling on the floor. “Can’t even have a vacation, what would you do without me, baby?”

“Ughh…!” you choke on your moans. There is no thought behind your eyes, your entire attention is on your pleasure. Feeling overwhelmed at every thrust of his fingers, writhing in his hold while he is roughly pumping into your drenched hole, an uncomfortable wetness clings to your inner thighs - begging to fuck you already.

“Fuck, I am so sorry, sweetheart, but you are so wet. I can’t. Just the tip, okay? Sorry,” he groans breathlessly, giving hot and quick kisses on the side of your head. Sweet touch. His gaze darkens and his body presses harder against yours, feeling his erection press against your ass. “just… this hole is dripping, and you don’t look like you don’t want it”

You are so close actually, every thrust hitting your sweet spot, curling, and keeping the quick pace of his fingers make you almost drool while focusing on approaching orgasm. Too bad that isn’t on his to-do list. As much as he wants to see you cum, on his fingers or not, - his own pleasure is much more important, especially when his dick is hard. Whiskey dick isn’t so easy to get up these days. His fingers roughly withdraw from your soaked hole with a squelching pop, denying your orgasm. The emptiness returns and your sensitive pussy clenched around nothing again - aching to be filled again.

“So messy,” Leon mutters out, shoving his index and middle fingers in your mouth - forcing you to clean them, your tongue rolls and wraps around them, tasting yourself before he finally pulls them away. “asking for bad things to happen”

You can swear to God this made your clit throb. Wetter than you can ever be, or you are hallucinating, hoping this isn’t the case. Thoughts are quickly brushed aside when his cock is pressed in between your pussy lips, bumping against your aching clit while he rubs himself against your soaked and needy cunt that coats his flesh in your slick, lubing his length in it before he pushed his cock into you - Leon is not really a patient man. Yeah, just the tip, of course. Your velvety walls easily swallow his cock, stretching inch by inch with pleasant pain and letting it slide as he pushed in quick motion until his cock got buried deep inside you. Balls pressed against your flesh, while you can’t help but tightly clench around him, his chest is pressed against your back. Relishing how tight and warm is your pussy, the best and most calming feeling for Leon - to fill you with his cock for his own pleasure. Your hair gets tugged roughly, making your head roll back while Leon starts moving slowly. His cock drags against your walls, pulling out until only a tip remains inside.

“See? Only a tip” Leon mocks you, before slamming back in, bottoming out in one thrust. You whimper and squirm, but his hold on your hair is hard - the only way to keep you under his control. His hips start pounding into you, falling deep into the pleasure connecting your bodies. “Your pussy just feels so good, weren’t you made for this, mmm?”

His movements stutter as his pace slowens when his blue eyes make eye contact with the TV. You didn’t really catch on what was happening until his hand tugged your hair, directing your half-lidded gaze to the point of his interest. The sight of your image on the news, big words on the red background: MISSING PERSON. The former shelf of yourself is staring at you both, smiling brightly - not knowing there is no future for you. The volume is turned off. In this household, it is common knowledge that Leon doesn’t let you watch the news, every time getting agitated and avoiding you even more, when sober, which doesn’t last long after that. The mood swing was quick, every time it was like a loud thunderstorm, his hips make another thrust - cock hits your cervix and forces out a loud moan, involuntarily, when Leon’s cockhead grinds against it.

“This is bullshit, you know?” He hisses into your ear, giving another rough thrust to make you gasp pathetically, as he presses your head against the TV screen. “no one is coming for you. Why? Cause you are forgettable, baby, no one needs you”

“S-stop, Leon” you mumble in between moans and trying to keep yourself aware of what is happening. “T-too much, p-please!”

Your body feels like it is on fire due to the mix of emotions he provokes, your cunt grips his cock tightly while aching for your denied orgasm from before. His hand gives a hard slap on your sensitive clit, making you arch and flinch. Your pussy flutters, gripping him tighter.

“Shhh, I am doing a favor here” he mutters, yanking your head back, forcing you to look at the news while his pounding grew more erratic, intensifying wet and flesh-hitting sounds. His voice is loud in your ears, muffling other sounds, overwhelming as his cock keeps making rough thrusts into you with every word - to punctuate them. “Keeping you here, taking care of useless you that can’t do anything right”

He buries himself deep again, pausing again to relish in the feeling of his cock filling you, while your wet walls engulf him nicely - like a drug, inviting him to stay there and never pull away. Slick drips down your thighs, and his nose brushes behind your ear before nibbling on the soft cartilage. His hand gives another light slap on your pussy, the tightness of your walls almost makes him cum.

“Maybe a baby, what do you think about it, mm?” The idea makes him throb, sliding in and out more erratically. As if he cares about your opinion right now, his fingers tug your hair harder, but his words make you flinch harder. Tears prick behind your eyelids.

“No-no-no. You can’t cum inside, no!” He is not wearing a condom. Bad, too bad. Begging comes out naturally for you now, in between your moans. Fear coats your voice, as the idea sets in quickly - being trapped here cause of an unfortunate kid. “Not the baby! Leon, please! I’ll be good, please!”

“Of course, I can. Shut up. You like this” Leon hisses, keeping your head in a firm hold, so your eyes are set on the old photo. It doesn’t feel right, but you can’t stop yourself from making noises, shifting so Leon would hit a better angle. This somewhat combines with a shame, at every hint of it your mind shoves it away. “You can’t look at yourself, too bad. Dripping even more after my words, like a whore.“

Wanting to cum, focusing more on the pleasure of his dick filling your hole - feels so wrong, but good. Like your body shouldn’t enjoy how Leon’s hips keep pounding into your soaked cunt, hitting the pudgy spot and making you repeat his name like a prayer, but your own mind and body are the biggest enemy, betraying you. His own balls tighten, as a reminder of his so soon approaching orgasm.

“You love me right, baby?” Leon whispers, voice coming out breathy and brushing against your ear shell. His calloused fingers crawl back to your clit, flicking and rubbing it roughly and unsteadily. Trying to keep the feeling of that warm tightness sucking in his cock.

“I love you, Leon, o-oh!” you hum, nibbling on the lower lip and arching, letting more noises when his dick hits your sweet spot so sloppily and messy now, chasing his orgasm. And him circling your clit with his calloused fingertips makes your legs tremble - so close to tripping and falling flat on the floor. This makes your mind fuzzy, shoving away the fear of being pregnant. Leon is nice, right? Nice enough to push you against the cold screen of the TV, it doesn’t have its use anymore. That photo faded with the news, after all. “I love you, love you,”

Your voice comes out shaky and high-pitched now. His eyes are set on your disheveled look, with light traces of tears as you repeat the confession erratically, filling his mind with them. Making this normal, you love him, so he can allow himself to not feel so guilty, right? With a final and rough thrust, he buried himself to the hilt, giving chaste and soft kisses to the back of your head. Your body shudders eventually too, your walls spasm harder around him as the hard feeling of orgasm hits you, pleasant shockwaves dumb every bad thought in the head. His cock throbbed, letting a loud groan and finally spurting ropes of cum into you while keeping messy circles on your sensitive clit, prolonging your orgasm and making you more overwhelmed with every flick. The warm essence fills your hole, Leon pulls out his softening cock with a wet pop, watching how his sperm slowly oozes out from your pussy. His mind is light, the hint of booze keeps guilt from emerging.

Words of love don’t feel like a complete lie now, as pleasant memories overwhelm the bad ones. They become almost an empty spot in the back of your mind, leaving only a foggy feeling of hate and dread. And your brain is weak for the bliss, hammering every moment deep in you - craving for more. Hate won’t bring you out of this, maybe affection will. Your hand grips weakly his wrist, you won’t be able to bear the loneliness after sex tonight.

“Don’t leave me” Your mouth is quicker than your mind, not processing anything right now. Leon breaks out in a weak smile, but his gaze isn’t capable of keeping eye contact right now. Still, he scoops you in his arms without a second thought. Remaining silent, feeling your weak body in his hold he can’t help but pepper chaste kisses on your forehead. Trying to prolong the sweet and guiltless moment for you both.

You should have known better than to accept that date with him.

[livelaughliushen]

Thank to @thief-of-eggs for the lovely fic that inspired this piece!

Maybe someday in the very distant future I’ll actually finish this but comics are absolutely not my forte and I’m throwing myself down flights to stairs trying to draw this so for now I hope this will suffice ヽ(；▽；)ノ

[tamagoneko]

This wasn’t happening, this couldn’t be happening… He was losing him. He messed up, and because of that, he was going to lose his little brother. It was all his fault. He was failing, failing, failing… - Great Decisions by @rydoesartandstuff

[yanderestarangel]

♡ — 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍𝐒 𝐑𝐄 | 𝐃𝐀𝐃𝐃𝐘'𝐒 𝐅𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐃!𝐀𝐋𝐁𝐄𝐑𝐓 𝐖𝐄𝐒𝐊𝐄𝐑

— TW: smut, praise, dark themes, age gap, light yandere, age gap, friend of your farher!albert wesker, v!sex, manipulation, nsfw, distorted mind, oral, afab anatomy, blackmail, recorded sex, daddykink, no pronouns used besides 'you'.

♡—Wesker was a sick man, he knew that, but Albert's darkest desires could not be ignored for long. He was your dad's co-worker, and to tell the truth, he hated the man, however, there was something about your father that interested him... You.

♡— Wesker, unfortunately for you, laid eyes on you, it was just small glances behind the dark lenses of his glasses, but soon after, you were already in the scientist's darkest thoughts. He thought you were a precious thing, a little pearl that needed to be protected by him, so he decided to get even closer to your dad, it was so easy to manipulate the man and infiltrate your family that Albert found it pathetic, but he needed you... Being close to you, you were eating away at his mind with every bitter second that passed in the older man's abjacent solitude.

♡— Wesker could just get rid of anyone in the worst way possible and lock you up in a place isolated from everything and everyone, make you his untouched little doll, lock you in a glass dome and watch you all day — he could force you to loving him, worshiping him like a god, he wanted to make you walk on the ground he walks on and see your tongue lick every drop of his seed, things escalated very quickly for him, but he didn't care, in the blonde's head, he was a superior being, and could do anything he wanted.

♡— Wesker researched every strong and weak point of your personality, in a few days he had a folder and raw files of hours and hours of recordings of you, either with the wiretap he secretly placed on your cell phone, or with the cameras hidden behind home — which he put it when he went to your house, to drink some wine and hand over some papers from the umbrella to your dad — or for the hours he spent stalking every post of yours on the internet. He knew everything about you... Absolutely everything, you were his obsession, you were his property and his alone... It didn't take long for you to realize that.

♡— Wesker began with calm touches, as if he were watering a flower, wetting your petals of desire with the nectar of hot, forbidden touches. He would pay you so much attention, wearing the best smile behind his serious and cold face, his lips would always have an expression of comfort for you — He would always shower you with sweet nicknames, telling you how proud he is of you always giving your best to you. college grades, or how good you were. He would divert your father's attention just to visit you in your room, giving you expensive gifts that you had wanted for a long time. "— I just remembered you baby, it suits your eyes, don't worry about the value sweetheart." Albert would speak in a hoarse tone, placing the emerald necklace around your neck, brushing his fingers for too long on your skin and leaving soon after, leaving you with a confused feeling in your chest and a heat in your core.

♡— Wesker has been mentally writing down the best nicknames he can think of. "— My Prince/Princess, My doll, My baby boy/baby girl, My little gem, My good boy/girl, honey, darling, dear, sweet little thing." And all of them are accompanied by mischievous phrases and smiles. " — Good job prince/princess, you did well... Keep it up." " — you really are a cute little thing, aren't you? Making Daddy happy." The scientist would purr in your ear, away from your father's eyes... Not that he cares much, but he loves the feeling of adrenaline, seeing your face blush, you would be a mess for a simple compliment or word of affirmation... It was so cute to him, like a stalking prey, a deer lost and beautiful in the snow.

♡— Wesker knew that resisting his charm was never an option, and it wouldn't be. He is a man who knows how to play his cards right, and it wouldn't take long for him to trap you in his web of manipulation and possession, he would make you his body, mind and soul, break you to the breaking point.

♡— Wesker would have luxurious dinners at his penthouse, calling his family, an excuse to see you again. He would get your dad drunk enough to pull you to some corner of the house and pull down your clothes, slapping your ass hard as he knelt kissing your clit, forcing you to lean against the cold wall while he fucked you out. "— Fuck imagine if your father comes in here and sees his sweet son/daughter like that? Fucking his friend?" Albert smiled mischievously, as he inserted two thick fingers into your hole, stretching you to the sides, leaving you well prepared for him. He would hold you with his strong arms, taking you to the table where your father slept drunk, fucking you in front of the man's sleepy body. " — Fucking h-hell Mmm- imagine if he wakes up? Seeing you like this? Seeing that you're nothing but a fucking slut." He babbled, pushing the base of his dick into your cunt, while you covered your moans with your hand, feeling your eyes roll back into your head with pleasure.

♡— Wesker will fuck you in your own house, making an excuse for your father who needs to recommend some colleges to you, while he aggressively beats you on the mattress, tying your ankles with his tie, while overstimulating your pussy, inserting his shaft repeatedly into your uterus, he'll just take out even the tip and put it all in at once with a sadistic smile on his thin lips. "—I could fuck you like this all day."

♡— Wesker would say such dirty and sweet things to you while turning you into a dumb mess. " — Your sweet little pussy is made for my cock, isn't it?" His free hand reaches down to caress your breasts, pinching and pinching your sensitive nipples, eliciting more moans from your lips. He continues to tease and torment you, pushing you closer to the edge of orgasm before pulling back, prolonging your agony - and his, you could beg and whimper, as he takes a cell phone out of his pocket, focusing on your wet, abused hole. " — Oh, you little slut," he grows. " —I love the way you look when my cock stretches you out like this Ah- Fuck sweetheart-" And just as you're about to fall, he slows down once again, prolonging your ecstasy, the buildup almost unbearable. "—Not yet, my dear," he whispers in your ear, his voice filled with wicked delight. "—You will come when I say so. Only when I give you permission."

♡— Wesker will take several photos of your body covered in semen, in compromising positions and with his dick in your mouth, videos, gifs or any digital media available, he will manipulate and chat you so that you are always his, always stay on his side.

" — You will never run away from me, my little pet... Or else... Your father and all your family, friends... They will know what a whore you are, so just be good and keep your mouth shut, pretty boys/girls don't think."

©𝙔𝘼𝙉𝘿𝙀𝙍𝙀𝙎𝙏𝘼𝙍𝘼𝙉𝙂𝙀𝙇 2023

[charcuteriecrab]

what are you willing to sacrifice for peace? (Part 2)

a Resident Evil fanfiction

For @aussiepineapple1st

Rating: M

Contains: blood, strong language, description of injuries, gore (?)

Tags: pre-relationship chreon, post-vendetta, major character injury

Word Count: 2,069

Part 2/7 Part 1 <- Previous | Next ->

The hospital phone dialed, the tone going once, twice, before his sister's slightly staticky voice came through. "Hello?"

"Hey, Claire. It's me," Chris said wistfully, giving the floor a grim smile. It was nice to hear her voice, despite the circumstances; he last called her weeks ago.

Her tone immediately became worried. "Chris? What happened?" 

Chris nearly laughed. She knew him so well. "I—" his voice cut off, throat closing up. "It's Leon. He's in the hospital—"

"Oh God, is he okay? Where are you?"

"New York City." He swallowed.

"I'll be there fast as I can, Chris."

"He's in bad shape, Claire… we've been here for three hours now and they haven't told us anything." Images of Leon, bloodied, pale, and so still flew to the front of his mind and he shook his head, exhaling roughly. He was alive. He had to be.

"Leon's strong…he’ll get through this. He always does."

Chris nodded, not quite believing her words. Leon wasn’t invincible, no matter how many times he had survived the impossible. What if the man didn’t bounce back from this? What if this was the final nail in the coffin? 

"You're right,” he said, placating her. Nothing about this was right. “I—let me know when you get into the city, I'll send you the address."

"Alright. Don't get too caught up in your head. I know how you get."

He shook his head, sighing. A little too late for that. "I'll try not to."

They said their goodbyes and Chris hung up the phone with a click of the receiver. He heaved a heavy exhale, rubbing his eye sockets with the palms of his hands. 

Three hours. That's how long he and Rebecca had been waiting, and still nothing. DC took Nadia with him to a hotel after her injury was treated; luckily there was minimal damage and it didn’t cut any major arteries. The doctors said she was lucky. He was glad she was okay.

Chris had forgotten about Claire completely until Rebecca reminded him, and then he realized his phone was destroyed in the fight so he had to use the hospital phone. He was sure he scared the poor secretary—with his bruised and battered face and towering frame. Someone from the BSAA had come by with some spare clothes for them, which he greatly appreciated, so at least he wasn't in his bloodied tactical gear. Instead, he was wearing a plain T-shirt and blue jeans. Despite having changed and washed up, the cold chill of Leon’s cooling blood on his arms never quite went away, giving him goosebumps. He swallowed. Chris wondered if it would ever truly dissipate.

Rebecca was sitting where he left her in the waiting room and he sat down in the cushioned chair next to hers. She wasn't in that wedding dress anymore, wearing clothes similar to his, but she had a pair of sweatpants as opposed to jeans. They were a little big on her, but she didn't complain. He was sure that dress was uncomfortable, especially given the…circumstances surrounding that particular garment.

God. He was the one to get both Rebecca and Leon involved in this. It was his vendetta that nearly got them killed. He didn't even know if Leon was alive or dead at this point. He swallowed again, thickly, beating back the panic that had been an ever-present weight on his chest since Leon collapsed in his arms. In his anger, he got Rebecca kidnapped, Leon and Nadia in the hospital, and Damien killed . God. He almost forgot about Damien in his panic. Damien might not have been a close friend, but he was a good soldier and an even better man. He didn't deserve to die.

Everyone around him always ended up dying. Chris was beginning to think he was a curse on the people around him—everyone teamed with him was doomed to die. His STARS team, his team in Edonia, and his one later in China. Piers. Finn. And now Damien too. How many people he cared about were going to die before this war stopped? His eyes burned with unshed tears. He could have lost both Leon and Rebecca today. Two of the most important people in his life. Some of his oldest and most trusted friends. 

And Leon. Fuck. It had hurt to see Leon wasting away in that bar, uncaring to the battle at hand. It reminded Chris too much of himself after he woke up from the hospital without his memory. Lost . Chris had been lost. And Leon was heading down the same path he had, losing himself to the unending war and bloodshed and overwhelming loss.

~o~

It was another hour later when Chris heard a door open and he snapped to attention. A brunette nurse with a clipboard walked into the waiting room, scanning the space before landing on Chris and Rebecca. His heart fluttered when she stepped towards them and he stood up, willing his legs to stand steady. 

“For Mr. Kennedy?” the nurse questioned.

“Yes—is he—”

“He is stable, out of surgery, and currently in the ICU.” Chris let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding—Leon was alive , but in intensive care. “We’re keeping him in an induced coma until his body can handle movement, but he is expected to recover.” She smiled. “Follow me.” 

Chris sent a nervous look towards Rebecca and she gave him a small smile of encouragement, which he appreciated, some of his anxiety ebbing. Alive . He was alive.

They came upon the room, the name ‘Leon Kennedy’ scrawled on a piece of paper and slotted into the door label. Chris mentally added the ‘S’ to the name, knowing the man appreciated the distinction. Leon had never told him why, but he assumed he shared the same name as his father. The nurse opened the door with a click and stepped in, Chris and Rebecca following close behind.

Chris’ gaze found Leon immediately and he froze. Leon’s skin was pale, face slack and unmoving, a splotchy bruise painting the right side of his face. His dark hair laid limp against the off-white pillow underneath him, the bright bedding only making him appear more sickly. The man was intubated, the tube secured to his face as it pushed oxygen to his lungs. Various monitors were hooked up to his left arm, an IV providing both saline and blood, his right arm immobilized in a cast and hung in a sling. Chris stared at the wrongness of the image in front of him, stomach churning and he swallowed back acrid bile, tears turning his vision glassy.

Rebecca came to his side, and that’s when he noticed he had moved closer to the bed, his knees nearly touching the railing without realizing. “...when is he going to wake up?” she asked, turning to the nurse.

The nurse gave them a soft look. “We expect to be able to wean him from the sedatives in about a week. As long as no complications occur, he should make a full recovery. His liver was severely damaged, causing the hemorrhaging, but our surgeons stopped the bleed before he lost too much blood.”

Chris looked at her, wide-eyed. His liver? 

“The organ is expected to have no lasting damage,” she said, obviously seeing his concerned expression, “but he is going to have to be careful with alcohol consumption for a while. Probably a year or so.” 

Chris sighed, relieved, but also knew that keeping Leon away from alcohol was going to be a challenge. The man usually didn’t follow the advice given to him by medical professionals. Was he even going to let Chris help him? He knew Leon was independent, preferring to not depend on others, but after this—God. He was going to need help. And as long as Leon was okay with it, Chris was going to be by his side as often as he needed.

“In terms of other injuries, the fracture in his arm has been taken care of with no nerve damage, thankfully. He has two broken ribs, three cracked, and substantial bruising to the rest of his body.”

Chris looked back down to Leon’s limp body, hearing the audible whoosh of air being pushed into the man’s lungs, seeing the bandages wrapped around almost every inch of visible skin, the blanket only coming up to his sternum and exposing his shoulders and neck. Purples and yellows peeked through the gaps in gauze and they made Chris feel sick. If he lifted the thin covering, he was sure he would find even more bruises and bandages and stitches and wires and—

“Can—” he said, throat closing up, hands shaking. “Can I have a moment alone?”

Rebecca laid a hand on his shoulder before nodding. “I’ll pick you up later tonight.”

Chris gave her hand a squeeze and she turned away, the nurse following behind, telling him she would be back in an hour and he acknowledged her, sighing heavily.

~o~

“Chris. This isn’t your fault. Leon made the choice to help you,” Claire said, leaning forward in her chair. 

“I yelled at him while he was mourning . He was in a bad mental state and I got angry with him.”

“Yes—and he still followed you to battle. He cares about you more than you think.”

Chris didn’t say anything, taking a breath and looking away. Leon followed him and almost died. Just like everyone else that followed Chris. He grimaced.

Claire had arrived at the hospital two days after he called her, and Leon wasn’t any better or worse. Chris supposed he should be glad, but all he could feel was a hollow, aching, weight on his chest. Leon should be up and telling them silly one-liners and swearing at Chris for his stupidity, not on death’s door. His sister was calming his nerves, and Rebecca visited at least twice a day, but sitting and being able to do nothing to help Leon was agony. He contemplated helping the rest of the BSAA with cleanup but the thought of leaving Leon’s side was too painful to consider, despite knowing he wasn’t supposed to wake up for at least a few more days.

“I think you should tell him.”

No… He couldn’t. Chris couldn’t jeopardize their friendship like that. Not for his own selfish wants. “I…can’t.”

Claire gave a deep sigh slowly, a hint of exasperation audible. “Why’re you so sure he’ll reject you?”

Chris furrowed his eyebrows, the bags under his eyes aching. He thought it was pretty obvious. “First of all, I’m pretty sure he isn’t into guys.”

Claire raised an eyebrow before scoffing. “And what gave you that impression?” Chris was confused now and sent her a bewildered look, in which she replied with another sigh, this time more frustrated. “I know for a fact that he has been with guys before. Maybe you should actually talk to him about it instead of assuming.”

Chris opened his mouth before shutting it with an audible click. She had a point, but part of Chris still felt uneasy about telling Leon. Didn’t he have something with Ada Wong? He couldn’t remember if it was anything more than respect for each other. “But—”

“Nope. No buts. You have been avoiding this for too long, Chris. You need to tell him.” She looked down at Leon’s still-unconscious body in between the two of them, her eyes softening. “You both have dangerous jobs, and you’re not getting any younger.”

“You calling me old?” He sent her a small teasing smile that didn’t fully reach his eyes.

Claire laughed. “I can’t very well let my poor older brother sentence himself to a life of loneliness for no reason.” She then shifted in her chair, expression turning serious as silence spread between them. “...Leon brings out the best in you. I’ve seen it—the way you light up when you’re with him. You look happiest when he’s nearby.”

God. Just being near the man sent butterflies fluttering in his gut, his heart aching with the need to hold him close, to kiss him passionately until they were both out of breath.

“I—” he paused, swallowing. “I think I’m in love with him, Claire.”

Claire’s expression changed, shifting warmer, and she leaned back in her chair, sighing. “Then tell him, Chris. Don’t keep doing this to yourself.”

“What if he doesn’t feel the same?” “Then…at least you’ll know,” she replied. | Next -> |