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lipglossanon · 2 years ago

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Got No Human Grace

◤──•~❉᯽❉~•──◥

Las Plagas!Leon S. Kennedy x fem!reader

it’s finally here 😬

Anon asked: Leon coming back form a mission but he’s still infected knowing its the last of its kind it sort of takes over to breed with the reader

I’m unsure of this one! 😅 I hope it makes sense; I tried something a little different to sort of convey Leon changing. Let me know what you think!! 💜 las plagas!Leon came out more of a soft boi than the intense version I was aiming for 🤔

Warnings: 18+ minors DNI, infected Leon, body alterations, biting, marking, scenting, masturbation, dirty talk/thoughts, breeding kink times ten, big dick Leon supremacy, unprotected sex, creampie, monster fucking kink

Kinda looked over so sorry about mistakes lmao

Title from Eyes Without A Face by Bill Idol 😌

◤──•~❉᯽❉~•──◥

Leon ached from head to toe, muscles he didn’t even know existed making his body scream out in pain and exhaustion. He dropped Ashley off at the rendezvous point days ago and he’s just now getting home. After flying nonstop for hours on end, he just wants to take a shower and collapse into bed.

Unlocking his door, he pauses at the threshold, head cocked and listening. His chest aches, a prickly sting beginning to irritate him before it sweeps from his chest up to his head making his eyes water. He doesn’t hear or sense anything so he slowly relaxes, entering his house and shutting the door.

A small sound off to the side has him reacting without even thinking. His knife is embedded in the roach, pinning the insect to the base board, feet away from him, before Leon even realizes he has moved. He shakes his head as he walks over to the dead bug, pulling his knife out with a frown.

He’s definitely more on edge than he thought, grimacing at the gross slime on his blade. Tossing it down on the rug as he passes the living room (making a mental note to clean it later), he makes his way to the bathroom for a quick shower.

Taking one of the fastest showers in recorded history, Leon barely tugs on a pair of clean briefs before he’s collapsing into bed and passing the fuck out for sixteen hours of dead-to-the-world sleep.

He’s dreaming he thinks. He must be.

He’s sinking

down..

Landing on something soft.

Silky.

Warm.

His chest feels likes it’s blooming open.

Like an exotic flower.

a Venus fly trap

Silky warmth like a cocoon envelops his thoughts making them cotton soft. He luxuriates in the softness, rubbing himself against it like a cat in heat. He feels his cock stiffen as the softness keeps pressing in all around him.

His chest cracks open more, heat blooming outward as he pants in the dark, rutting against the soft feeling encompassing his body. God, it feels so good. So nice. He hasn’t felt this comforted in ages. He wants more.

He’s sinking down again, a soft suction pulling him further into the warm dark silk, wrapping him tighter in its embrace.

Down

..until..

settling on the

b o t t o m

His chest feels fully cracked open. Heat and want pooling out like tendrils in the breeze. Long, writhing tentacles reaching for Leon. Touching, caressing, stroking.

He frowns in the dark, the warm slick feeling of a

cracked open head the insides spilling out the lovely red making him excitedthrobbingneedy

a wet tendril curling around his thoughts along with his body coaxing him back into that silky bliss. The tendrils wrap around his cock drawing his attention back to that wanton feeling, still hard and dripping from earlier.

A sliver of thought seeps into the warm gooey heat of his brain. He needs to cum. Needs it desperately. What he wouldn’t give to bury himself in some warm body, let them work him over til he’s spilling inside, gifting them with his seed, sharing his bloodline so he’s not the last.

That draws him up short, brain sludgy as the slick tentacles stroke his dick, teasing across his balls. Bloodline? He thinks dizzily, cock weeping precum as he writhes against the slow hand job he’s getting from the tendrils wrapped around him.

He whines as the motion picks up, making him fuck into the slick tunnel surrounding his dick. He needs to cum so bad. Fill up some pretty girl. Ohhh like that neighbor next door. Leon’s cock kicks and drools more precum thinking of you.

You’re so pretty and sweet. You don’t know each other that well but Leon’s eager to change that. He’s rocking his hips even faster, picturing your shy smile the last time you ran into him followed by the thought of how pretty your cunt will be when he fucks you.

With a low groan, he’s cumming all over the slick tentacles as they stroke his cock. His balls draw up as the tendrils milk him for every drop of cum in his body. As soon as it teeters on too much, they slip away leaving Leon to bask in his pleasurable silence. Something snaps into place in his mind and

¡₲ⱠØⱤł₳₴ Ⱡ₳₴ ₱Ⱡ₳₲₳₴!

wakes

His mind feels slow, disoriented, not even sure where he’s at, as he raises up from his tangled sheets. His boxers are soaked, sticking to his half hard cock as he shifts to sit on the edge of his bed. His lip curls in disgust. He must’ve had a pretty damn good dream to make such a mess.

An image of you zings in his brain making his cock chub up in his briefs.

“Fuck,” he hisses out, leaning back on his palms as his dick quickly thickens, pressing obscenely against his underwear.

He slips the band down to press underneath his balls, cock slapping against his stomach and dripping cum everywhere.

He lays completely flat against his bed, reaching down to run his fingers across the tip before gently tugging the foreskin down to swipe a thumb over his slit.

He pants as he tugs on his cock, letting himself relax into the sheets and spreading his thighs. He’s so sensitive that it leaves him groaning loudly as he grips himself tightly to hump his hips into his fist.

Wonder if you’re home, he thinks sluggishly, hand picking up speed. He’d love to see you today, maybe see if you want to get dinner. Maybe even see if you’d like to come back here and let him take you apart over his sheets.

He moans and pumps himself harder, precum dripping over his knuckles making it sound wet as he beats off. He thinks of you begging for him, begging to breed your cute pussy, please Leon just give it to me I need it please Leon please need you to cream my pussy til it takes knock me up need you—

He’s growling out a moan as he cums all over his fist and twitching abs. It seems never ending as spurt after hot spurt of jizz spills across his fingers to drip down his balls. Once he’s completely spent, he heaves a sigh trying to regulate his heartbeat.

He slowly sits up, mindful to not make any more of a mess. Slipping his briefs off, he haphazardly wipes what cum he can on them then tosses them in the hamper. He heads to the bathroom to take another quick shower which ends up being a long one as he jerks off again to thoughts of you.

As he spills his cum down the drain, he groans in frustration at feeling like a teenager all over again. It’s kind of insane how horny he feels and how it seems to be all centered around you. Maybe he just needs to shoot his shot and see if he can get you in his bed. Worry about semantics later.

Feeling more settled, he finally finishes his shower and gets dressed. He knows you’re off today since it’s the weekend so he’s just going to bide his time until he can bump into you this afternoon. You always go out for a quick stroll around the block, not that he’s memorized it by now, but you seem to be a creature of habit.

And Leon is right. As soon as he settles on his porch steps, just starting to enjoy the sunny day, he sees you out of the corner of his eye. You’re heading back to your house from the end of the street so you’ll have to pass by him.

He watches you under his lashes until you slow your pace down right outside his house.

“Leon! Hi, did you get back last night!”

He looks up and sees you shuffling your feet next to the pathway up to his front porch. His eyes drift from your tennis shoes up to your bare legs (wrapped around his waist, over his shoulders, thighs pressed—) to your shorts and simple t-shirt, up to your neck (so empty and bare) and finally your face. You’re smiling at him but it’s slowly morphing into concern until he smiles at you in return making you smile even brighter.

He wants to sink his teeth into you and never let go, wants to pin you down and make you cry on his cock, begging for him to breed your needy pussy, he wants—

“Sorry, I’m a little tired today,” he laughs, standing up to walk toward you.

“Oh no worries, if I’m bothering you I can—“

“No,” his words rush out, “no bother, I was actually hoping to see you.”

He pauses an arms length in front of you, realizing how much smaller you are compared to him. It sparks another wave of want, knowing he could manhandle you how he wants.

While distracted, your hand moves up to his jaw but holds just shy of touching him, a question hovering around your eyes that makes him smile at you again.

“You seem tired,” you drop your hand back down, concern making your brows pinch, “your eyes looked..”

He watches as you search his face again but then rub your neck, a sheepish grin ticking your lips up.

“Nevermind, must’ve been a trick of the light or a shadow or something,” you sigh and roll your neck, “heck maybe I’m just too tired.”

His eyes catalogue everything about you, his chest feeling tight,

breed her pretty perfect the perfect mate to fill over and over breed her mate her mark her sink teeth deep spill hot red blood-

making him rub a hand over the center until the ache slips away into nothing.

“Uh, so I was wondering if you were free tonight?” he grins at you, flirty and sweet, “nothing fancy, I was just going to order out and we could watch a movie?”

You duck your head but Leon can see the smile on your face making the plagasbutterflies in his chest flutter.

“Sure,” you look back up at him, hands clasped in front of you, “would seven tonight be okay?”

“Perfect,” his smile widens, making his cheeks hurt, “any kinda food you prefer? Any allergies?”

You giggle and touch his arm, “I’m good with whatever and luckily no allergies.“

“Good, that’s good.”

perfect perfect mate good strong genetics breeding compatible

“I’ll see you tonight then!”

He waves as you walk the half block down to your house and watches as you slip inside your home. Once he can’t see you anymore, he goes back inside and cleans. He needs to look presentable. He grabs his knife from last night and cleans it thoroughly before slipping it into his bedside drawer. Then, he goes over the entire house making sure it’s suitable for a mate date.

Once that’s finished, he orders pizza. It’s nothing fancy, like promised, just something quick and easy. The doorbell rings just as he finishes changing into something more appealing. He knows you’re on the other side of the door, can sense it; his chest tingles when he pulls open the door and sees you standing there, soft and pretty just for him.

You smile and hold up a Tupperware box.

“Thought I’d make cookies,” he takes the box from you, gesturing for you to come inside.

“Thank you,” he smiles, eyes crinkling at the corners, the warm fluttery feeling in his chest coming back full force.

“It’s no problem,” you wring your hands, head ducked down shyly, “thank you for inviting me over.”

Leon steps up to gently take your elbow, guiding you into his living room. The pizza sits on the coffee table surrounded by plates and napkins. He has you sit down on the couch, skirt hem rucking up as you shift to get comfortable.

His eyes catalog everything about you an incessant need to memorize itching inside of him. Setting the cookies down onto the table, he sits next to you, knees nearly touching.

“I’m glad you came,” his voice is low and quiet.

A shy smile steals over your face, “I’m glad I did too.”

Your mouth opens then closes before you set your shoulders determinedly and speak, “I’ve been meaning to ask you out for awhile but I’ve just chickened out every time.”

“Really?”

You nod with a grin. Suddenly, a sharp stinging pain lances through his chest. His wince doesn’t go unnoticed and your hand reaches out to rest on his knee. The sting ramps up into a searing burn.

“Leon, are you okay?”

He tries to nod, but the pain expands out through his chest cavity and rushes up his neck to his head. Standing up quickly, he lurches toward the bathroom.

“J-just a headache,” he finally gasps out, a pulsing wave of pain filling his mouth so quick that it makes his teeth ache.

His legs buckle, knees coming down hard onto the floor but he doesn’t even feel it as the molten lava flow of pain races down his arms.

“Leon?” he hears your fear laced tone as your hand touches his shoulder, “oh my god, Leon—“

He can taste your confusion on his tongue with hints of fear and curiosity as he folds in on himself, trying to push the pain away. A sharp stinging rip stretches across his mouth, a poor facsimile of a jokers grin. Sharp tipped claws replace his hands, black inky skin stretching up from his fingertips to slowly fade back into his regular tan colored skin except for the black veins racing up his arm to disappear under his shirt.

He senses that you’re now kneeling in front of him, can hear your heart rabbiting in your chest to see him so changed.

“Leon, should I call someone?”

“No,” he finally gasps, head coming up making you flinch at what you see.

He knows how scared you are, hates that you’re so afraid of him but it doesn’t stop him from reaching out. You hesitate but take his hand, being mindful to miss the sharp edged claw tips.

“This isn’t what I’d consider first date material,” you try to joke, but tears bead your eye line.

Warmth blooms in his chest but this time it’s a welcome reprieve compared to the hot overflow of pain that changed him.

“I’d have to agree, third date for sure,” he tries to smile but his mouth is too wide now, new teeth pressing in making his tongue stumble.

Your hand squeezes his, heart rate increasing as you really take in his face.

“Is it bad?” he whispers.

Your mouth trembles but your eyes are firm, “Not really, kinda looks like Halloween makeup.”

He snorts at that making you laugh softly.

“How do you feel?”

His brows pinch together.

“It feels like there’s an undercurrent of thought,” he goes to tap his temple but sees the claw out of the corner of his eye so drops his hand back down, “like a second thought process.”

“What’s it thinking?”

Frowning at him, you shuffle closer and his eyes catch the motion of your skirt. Hunger like he’s never had before shoots through his body like an electric current.

breed her fill her up mark her claim her bite her mate her

He sways toward you, mouth salivating.

“Leon?”

“I’ll scare you off,” he finally mutters pulling himself together, pressing that other voice away.

“I think we’re well past that,” you tease, “just tell me.”

His chest flutters, giddiness from letting it sink in that you’re really still here, that you didn’t run.

perfect mate perfect breeder mark her claim her

“Fuck, okay, I’ll—,” he lets his head slump forward into your neck.

He feels as you tense under him but slowly relax as he just breathes you in; you tense again when his clawed hands wrap around your waist as he snuffles into your neck harder.

“Wanna mate you,” he whispers into your skin, being careful to not catch his teeth, “wanna keep you. Breed you again and again. Keep you stuffed with my cock. Perfect, never had someone so lovely before.”

He presses his lips to your pulse, tasting your fear with hints of arousal.

“Mark your pretty neck, bury myself between your thighs and fuck your pussy,” he rumbles, tongue lapping at your neck, hands tightening around your waist, “need to make you my breeder, mate you permanently.”

He scrapes his newly formed fangs against your skin, “Been so lonely, for so long, never found a mate til now. Gonna keep you all to myself. Never let you go.”

That undercurrent of thought Leon spoke of feels like it’s finally waking up inside of him, parasitically merging with his higher thoughts. The fluttering in his chest that had fallen into the background finally sinks into him, completing its final stage of amalgamation.

“Mine, all mine,” he promises, both lines of thought syncing together and making his tenor sound strange.

“Leon,” you whimper, hands shakily reaching up to his hair to tug him away from your neck.

He blinks at you almost sleepily, reminiscent of a feline. Tugging one of your hands from his hair, he presses a kiss to the palm as well as he can with teeth crowding his mouth.

“My pretty girl,” he coos at you, tugging you closer until you have to straddle his thigh or lose your balance and fall into his chest.

Leon noses along your hairline and chuffs happily, “Perfect, smell so good, want you so bad.”

His nose trails down your jaw, tongue licking your skin, “Can I have you? Please? Need you so much.”

You shiver in his arms and he knows that you’re slowly conceding, can feel your arousal ramping up with his soft touches.

“My mate is so pretty,” he purrs in your ear, tongue flicking the shell making you gasp quietly, “so pretty and so perfect. Wanna fill you up with my seed, show you how bad I want you.”

“Leon,” you whimper, rocking your hips down on his thigh.

The motion has him trilling in the back of his throat, nosing your jaw to lick across your cheek and lips.

“Perfect mate to breed,” he rumbles, “keep you pinned on my cock so I can fill that perfect pussy.”

Your hands are tangled in his hair, using it as an anchor so you can rock down on him. He can feel your damp panties and smell how much you like this.

“Can I?” he’s murmuring in your ear again, “can I fuck your pretty pussy? Please?” he sighs and nuzzles your hair, “need to breed my mate’s perfect little pussy.”

A whispering moan slips past your lips.

“Yes, Leon.”

◥✥◤

It’s a literal blur from the living room to Leon’s bed. He must’ve picked you up and carried you here, but it seems like between one blink to the next you’re in a new space.

You don’t really get much of a chance to take in the new setting as Leon crowds into your personal space, blue eyes wide and contemplating.

“Okay?”

You smile up at this wildly different man, if he’s even still considered one, and stroke his cheek. His eyes droop and he purrs at the motion.

“I’m okay, Leon. Can I just touch you for now?”

He nods eagerly. You run your fingers from his black clawed hands up the inky black stain, to his toned forearms where it fades back into peach colored skin. You trace the black veins that travel up his biceps. He stays still, watching you the entire time, eyes never blinking.

“Can you take your shirt off?” you ask shyly, feeling hot all over at thinking of where this is all headed, clit pulsing with excitement.

Leon quickly takes his shirt off and then without prompting, slips his jeans and boxers off. You bite your lip to stifle the noise that almost escaped. Those inky black veins cover his entire torso before slowly disappearing down his abs to his dick. His thighs are normal but the dark veins picks up near the bend of his knee and you can only assume travel down the length of his legs.

Your eyes can’t help but focus on his dripping cock. It’s flushed and hard, head peaking through his foreskin, weeping precum down the shaft. He’s so big that it has your walls fluttering already. You’re not sure it’s even going to fit, but you really really want it to. It’s not every day you get fucked by a monster cock.

“Okay?”

Leon’s hesitant voice pulls your attention back to his face. Your hands stalled out on his biceps and you squeeze the muscle at the same time as you press your thighs together.

“Okay,” you smile up at him and he tries to return it, mouth too strange now to truly smile.

Your pussy throbs seeing those teeth of his. Even his monstrous traits are making you aroused, feeling hot all over from seeing his black claws settle on the bed near your hips—picturing as he grabs onto you with them, scratching you up.

Shivering, you part your thighs, slick leaking from your cunt. Leon groans and presses his face into your neck.

“Smell so good,” he mumbles.

“Can you,” you take in a shaky breath, “can you smell how turned on I am?”

“Uh huh,” he whines, tongue swiping across your skin, “taste it too.”

“Oh,” you breathily sigh, hands digging into his shoulders.

You let your eyes fall back to his cock, “Don’t know if you’ll fit, Leon.”

“Can fit,” he pants, humping the air for a split second as the tip drools more precum, “made to fit.”

“Is it?” you tease, running your hands down his arms, “I’ve got a pretty small pussy compared to that.”

He snarls against you neck making your heart race in fearful excitement.

“Make it fit,” he grunts, dropping his hips down to grind his bare cock against your covered pussy, “pretty mate will take it, breed her deep.”

Whining, you tug Leon close and press a soft kiss against his teeth.

“Open your mouth and stick out your tongue,” you gasp out and Leon listens, lolling his tongue out past those sharp fangs.

You slowly lap at it then suck his tongue into your mouth. His eyes narrow in delight and he plunges his tongue deep into your mouth, making you choke.

He pulls away, worry crossing his features, but you tug him back, “Again.”

Moaning, you open your mouth as wide as you can and let Leon fuck his tongue in and out, gagging you when he slips in too far. Your nipples are so hard they hurt and your pussy aches with emptiness.

You have to push Leon away but he keeps licking your cheek and jaw, the closest thing to a kiss he can give you right now.

Giggling, you slip off your skirt and panties and when that draws his attention, you take off your blouse and bra dropping it all into the floor.

Leon’s eyes rake over your body. Feeling a little self conscious, you try to close your legs but Leon shoves his way in between them.

“So pretty, sweetheart,” he murmurs, tongue lathing across your clavicle, “want to lick you all over.”

Shivering, you relax against the bed, “Okay, Leon.”

“Really?” he groans, tongue dragging across the swell of your breasts, “wanna eat you up.”

Your breath hitches, pussy getting wetter at the thought of Leon biting you with those teeth.

“You can,” you whisper, eyes watching as he nips at your chest.

You both moan when he sucks at your nipples, swapping back and forth between each hard bud. He loves to latch onto one, framing it with his teeth as his tongue flicks your nipple over and over and over until you’re squirming; then he gently suckles on it until your hips buck. Moving over to the other nipple, he repeats the process.

Soon, your nipples are puffy and swollen and Leon still concentrates on them, pinch them gently between his claws until you’re whining.

“Please, please, please,” you push your hips up until his cock drags along your slit, smearing slick and precum across your pussy lips.

A shaky exhale, “Want you to breed me, Leon.”

An inhuman sound rumbles in his chest as his sharp claws grab your hips, shoving you down onto the bed with him following after. He drops his weight on you making you moan, legs spread wide around his hips.

“Mate,” he growls looking down as he starts to press the fat tip of his cock into your dripping hole, “so wet for me, pussy wants it so bad.”

You whine as he stretches your pussy around his cock; he’s so big it’s making your eyes water while your cunt spasms and clenches down.

“Open up for me,” he licks across your neck, “open up that pretty pussy so I can fill her up.”

“Trying,” you mewl, relaxing your muscles so he slips in another few inches.

“There we go, such a pretty girl,” he purrs and nuzzles your cheek, “wants me to breed her full.”

Moaning, you raise your hips up shoving more of his cock into your too tight hole. A pained hiss comes from your lips but you tighten your legs around his body.

“Help me, Leon,” you pant, tears shimmering in your eyes, “you’re gonna have to make it fit.”

He groans and it echoes oddly in his chest.

“Make it fit, make it fit this pussy, mate needs my cock to fit,” he’s mumbling to himself.

He pulls his hips back making you whine which becomes a choked off moan when he bullies his thick cock all the way into your cunt until he’s bottoming out. You feel split in two, pussy fluttering and twitching around his dick.

Your eyes slip shut, tears slipping free, “God Leon, it’s too much.”

“Perfect fit,” he nips at your neck making you clench on him, “perfect pussy.”

You’re milking his cock and nothing has even happened yet.

“I can’t,” you whimper, eyes opening to look down at him mouthing across your breasts, “it’s too much.”

“Mmm,” he suckles at a hard nipple making your pussy throb, “feels so good.”

You lay there under his heavy body as he sucks and lathes his tongue across your puffy nipples until you’re squirming, grinding down into his dick.

“Feel better?”

Your eyes are hazy when you finally meet his gaze, “Yeah, s’good. You’re just so deep.”

He raises up and you both can see a small bump in your lower belly.

“Perfect pussy,” he strokes a clawed hand over it making you keen high in your throat, “taking me so good.”

Your hands have been tangled in the sheets this whole time, but now come up to grab onto his shoulders.

“You’re gonna ruin my pussy for anyone else,” you whimper eyes watching him pet bulge in your belly.

Snarling, he pulls his cock halfway out and bullies it back into your cunt making you squeal.

“My pussy,” he grunts, teeth gnashing, “my mate.”

“Ohh,” a breathy moan slips past your lips as Leon starts fucking harder and harder into your pussy.

“Say it,” his clawed hands dig into the skin of your hips, piercing the skin and making him even more frenzied.

“Y-your m-mate,” you finally spit out, slick leaking from your pussy as his claws dig into your hips, “your mate, Leon.”

“That’s right.”

“Fuck,” you gasp out, Leon folding your knees up to your shoulders, “Leon, I can’t.”

“Y’can,” he grits out, mouth feeling full of too many teeth, too many hungry thoughts, “gotta, for me, please.”

You whine but go slack in his arms allowing him to push you further, letting him sink his cock back into your soaked hole. His body feels like it’s on fire, his chest feels so full of liquid heat that he’s surprised it’s not spilling past his lips.

“Thank you, thank you,” he chants around the fangs now taking up space in his mouth, “so good.”

“Leon,” you mewl, head hanging off of his bed from his thrusting, “m getting dizzy.”

He grabs your hips and without pulling out of your cunt, yanks your body back along the bed. Your eyes finally meet his and he feels your pussy flutter around his cock as fear strikes your features. The black veins have gotten worse around his temples traveling down to his jaw as a single black mass.

“Leon, are you okay?” your hand hesitates at your side but you lift it up to cup his face making him whine and nuzzle your palm.

“Hot, can’t think,” he stumbles over his words.

“You look worse..” your voice trails off as your eyes really take in his appearance, “maybe we should stop.”

He snarls and snaps his hips harder into your squelching cunt, a mewling cry escaping your mouth.

“No,” he bears his teeth at you, so sharp now, no longer his blunted human teeth but something more savage—feral.

Whining, your cunt milks his cock as he grinds his fat tip against the opening to your womb.

“Leon,” you gasp out as he starts pinching and rubbing your clit softly with those claws as he grinds deep into your clenching heat, “Leon, you’re—.”

Black veins race across his skin and pulse along with his heartbeat; his eyes seem to get the worst of it, making the sea dark color stand out even more almost like they’re glowing. His hands are gripping your hips so tightly they’re bruising.

“Breed, gotta cum in you,” he finally grits out, drool slipping from his mouth as he still isn’t used to his teeth, “pretty pretty girl. Gonna mate you, mark you. Mine. All mine.”

“Leon,” you whine, hands reaching out to brush his hair away from his face, watching the veins wiggle and squirm under his skin.

Your pussy clamps down on his dick to hear his husky voice mutter, “Bite you deep, mate you, breed you, all mine.”

Arousal floods your body at the thought of him sinking those needle sharp teeth into your skin, the stinging bite of having him mark you like that. Subconsciously, you’re arching your neck to him, baring the soft unmarked skin for his perusal.

He growls, fucking you in long slow thrusts, cock stretching you so open it makes your eyes water. You feel as his hands grip you even tighter, nails pricking your skin and making you bleed.

He scents the air and pants like a dog down at you, drool dripping all over your chest and neck.

“Smell so pretty,” he licks a trail from your jaw down to your clavicle, “wanna taste, w’nna taste, please.”

You’re nodding before you can think better of it, “Yes, yes, Leon.”

His sharp teeth pierce the junction where you neck and shoulder meet making your eyes roll back in your head, crying out loudly while your pussy gushes slick as you cum around Leon’s dick.

He growls and fucks you through your orgasm.

“Never had something so good before,” he’s lapping at the bloody mark on your neck, “god, never felt anything this good ever. So wet, so good, pussy’s so good. Never give you up, never. Kill anyone who touches you. Mine all mine. My mate, my breeder.”

The pain in your neck slowly radiates into syrupy pleasure; it drips down into your body, nipples tightening in pleasure and clit throbbing with want.

“Leon,” you slur, “what, what..”

“Poison,” he sounds apologetic but his eyes watch you hungrily, “make you feel good, aphrodisiac,” he stumbles over the word like it’s new to his vocabulary.

Your cunt aches when Leon pulls completely out and you moan loudly when he bottoms out into you again.

“Full, gotta keep mate nice and full,” his teeth still has flecks of your blood, making your cunt pulse with want again.

“Leon,” you mewl pitifully, hands cupping his face, “s’too much.”

He blinks and his eyes seem to clear for a second, “Sorry, sorry sweetheart, you’re doing so good for me.”

“Yeah?” you whine.

“Yeah, wouldn’t want anyone else but you,” he pants, eyes darkening again, “knew you’d be perfect and you are.”

His voice drops, the low timbre giving you goosebumps, “Perfect mate for me. Never need anyone else.”

Everything goes a little fuzzy on the edges, like you’ve had a little too much to drink; your thoughts are cotton soft and candy sweet.

Leon is smiling at you now, or it looks like a smile, teeth bared at you but with gentle eyes.

“Leon,” you giggle up at him, endorphins running rampant in your blood, bubbling like fresh champagne in a glass.

“Pretty,” he licks at the mark on your neck, “keep you, breed you over and over and over.”

You rock your hips up and moan, body on fire craving for him to cum inside you.

“Leon, want it so bad, cum in me please,” you beg up at him, eyes wet with tears.

He bites you again this time on the shoulder and you scream as another orgasm washes over your body.

“Mate feels so good,” he drools against your neck, licking at the bite.

Your eyes roll back in your head, hips rocking down to press Leon deeper into your cunt somehow. His pelvis grinds against your pudgy clit making your pussy clench repeatedly around his throbbing dick.

You’re both panting and moaning, rutting against each other like animals. Leon keeps biting at your unmarked skin which has you gushing slick around his cock.

“Breed me, Leon, need it,” your tongue is swollen and heavy in your mouth.

You can’t even think past the haze of needy arousal taking over you body. Leon’s sharp claws move up to your ribs, sinking into your skin to draw more blood making you toss your head back with a moan.

“Mark me up,” you scratch at his shoulders, a poor imitation of his own dangerous nails, “feels good.”

Leon’s snarling again, hips picking up a rough pace as he fucks his weeping cock into your squelching cunt.

“Yes, yes, that’s it,” your spine arches as his cock drags against your g spot and knocks against your cervix.

The lizard part of your brain promises you that’s where he belongs, buried deep in your womb.

Leon watches you with sharp blue eyes, mouth panting as drool drips down onto your chest. He starts a slow, rolling grind to capitalize on rubbing against that spongy spot as well as press against the opening to your cervix.

“Perfect,” his voice is deep and gravelly making your clit throb, “breed this pussy good and deep.”

“Yes, Leon, please,” you hump down on him, trying to get him to go faster but he doesn’t budge, “need it so bad, breed me. Want your cum.”

He grunts, eyes lit up with excitement as he just watches you get more and more desperate. You feel like you’re going crazy you’re so turned on.

“Please,” your voice cracks, “it hurts Leon ‘m so empty.”

He finally relents but moves to put you in a mating press, holding your legs up and open, clawed hands pressing against your thighs so he can fuck down into your soaked cunt.

“Need it, need it, please Leon,” you hiccup a whine, “my pussy’s ruined for anyone else, need you to keep me full.”

He growls and snaps his teeth at you, hips thrusting even rougher into your hole making you moan happily.

“Mate you,” he grunts, grinding down into your spasming pussy.

“There,” you gasp, eyes crossing as his cock rubs against your g-spot and grinds against your cervix just right.

Your body’s tightening, orgasm ratcheting up.

“Gonna fill you up,” he groans.

“Uh huh,” you slur, “fuck, ‘m gonna cum, Leon, fuck!”

Thighs shaking when his pelvis catches your clit, your body locks up as you scream out your climax. He keeps grinding against your cervix and g-spot prolonging the pleasure overloading your body. Your mind is wiped of any thoughts, only the feeling of Leon inside your pussy.

“Mine,” his hips buck and stutter, “all mine.”

His mouth opens and he sinks his sharp teeth in your neck again as he pumps your cunt full of hot jizz. Eyes rolling back at the dual sensations, another weak orgasm has your pussy clamping down on his cock. He hisses as you milk him over and over while he spills sticky cum deep into your womb, fat tip pressed right against the opening.

“Leon,” you whimper, hands slipping into his hair to guide him to face you, “kiss please.”

His tongue plunges into your open mouth making you moan as you taste hints of your own blood. Your pussy walls flutter as his cock kicks and throbs, spurting the last of his cum into your cunt.

He slowly slips his tongue out of your mouth at the same time he eases his dick out of your pussy with a wet suctioning noise. Whimpering, your legs lay against the bed as he quickly moves down the length of your body.

He grabs your ass and tilts you up.

“Gotta keep it all inside,” he murmurs, eyes zeroed in on your puffy cunt.

Your body still pulses with aftershocks, but you slowly realize in your soupy brain that the black veins are slowly disappearing. Leon’s mouth is also reforming itself until he only has sharp incisors left. The claws are last to change, but his fingertips still have pointier nails that look like they can still slice you open.

“Leon,” you murmur to grab his attention.

Humming, he looks up at you. His eyes drop down to the bite marks all across your neck and shoulders and his pupils dilate. Gently, he lets go of your hips to move back up your body. He kisses you heatedly, tongue dipping into your mouth with a groan.

“God, I want to do it again,” he drags his lips down to the bites and sucks on them; a mewling cry slipping from your mouth.

He shifts up and kisses you again, nipping your bottom lip until blood fills your kiss.

“Taste so good,” he whispers into your mouth before sucking on your lip, “pretty little mate.”

You finally pull away, exhaustion making your eyes droop.

“Leon, I can’t, at least not right now,” you stroke his jaw, admiring his flushed face.

“Sorry,” he turns and kisses your wrist, placing a small bite on the skin, “you’re just driving me crazy right now. You look and smell so good.”

You giggle, still feeling a little loopy from the mind blowing sex, “Well that’s all your fault, mister.”

He sheepishly grins at you, “Yeah. I really am sorry you know.”

You pull him down to kiss his cheek.

“Don’t be. I’ve been kinda hoping we’d fuck,” you boop his nose with a laugh at his scandalous expression.

“I just meant—“

“I know,” you cut him off with a smile, “and as insane as that was, definitely the best I’ve ever had.”

You gently touch the first bite with your hand and feel a zing of pleasure all the way down to your pussy.

“A girl could get addicted to this,” you murmur, running your other hand through his hair.

He nuzzles into your neck, dropping kisses all over the marks. Sighing, you let him kiss your neck until you feel his teeth scraping the skin.

“No more of that,” he whines at you, “m tired, Leon. Need to sleep.”

Placing one last kiss on the first bite mark, he drops down beside you and tugs you into his chest. You sigh and snuggle into him. He runs his fingernails down your back making you shiver, body going lax in his hold.

As you drift off to sleep you hear him whisper into your hair, “All mine.”

#las plagas!leon s kennedy #las plagas!leon s kennedy x fem!reader #las plagas!leon #infected!leon s kennedy #infected!leon s kennedy x fem!reader #las plagas!leon s kennedy smut #fem!reader #leon s kennedy x you #leon s kennedy #leon s kennedy x fem!reader #leon kennedy x reader smut #leon s kennedy smut #reader is totally into monster fucking leon s Kennedy lmao

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yan-lorkai · 7 months ago

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.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ A/N: Aaa back to my origins, I missed writing for Chrollo, he is such an interesting character with some many layers to peel off. Got inspired to write this after doing a lesson for my course where me and my group were discussing about the meaning of life and, y'know, philosophical questions like this would get Chrollo debating for hours just so he could understand his darling opinions.

The room was dimly lit, the only light source was a flickering candle on a worn-out table - the room Chrollo rented this time left to be desired, quaint, old. Shadows danced along the cracked walls, creating an atmosphere that was both claustrophobic and eerie. And you were almost certain that you saw a roach running somewhere. You hated here.

Most of all, you hated him.

Chrollo's dark eyes bore into yours, the intensity of his gaze sending even more chills down your spine. The air as always was thick with tension, one could not have a simple conversation with someone like him im peace.

He leaned forward, his shadows swallowing the light as he let his book rest on the table before turning to look at you again. You could almost see the gears turning on his head. Chrollo was calm and composed but there was something deeply unsettling about him — an aura of danger that lingered just beneath the surface.

Maybe it was his eyes. His very beautiful, mesmerizing eyes that were so similar to two black holes devouring and tainting anything they fell upon. He rested his chin on his hand, the faintest hint of a smile playing on his lips as he observed you, as he searched through your soul for something only he knew about.

"Entertain me, dear," Chrollo began, his voice smooth, almost gentle, yet laced with a sinister undertone, drumming his fingers against his leg, "What do you think is the meaning of life?"

The question hung in the air, heavy and loaded. You hesitated, knowing that your answer could shape the course of this conversation. He liked doing that; giving you something to think about to mold you into who he thinks you should be. Chrollo was unpredictable, his mind a labyrinth of thoughts and intentions that were impossible to decipher, yet you were learning how to read his mannerisms.

If he could read you like an open book, then you should learn and do the same to him. Two can play this game.

He was a man who could kill without remorse, who was used to steal and take without feeling nothing for the victims, even then here he was, asking you to ponder something as profound as the meaning of life. You bite the inside of your cheek, trying not to curse him; the man who took you from your old life.

You took a deep breath, trying to steady your racing heart. "I think the meaning of life is… To find s purpose. To create something that gives our existence meaning, whether it's love, art, or even just surviving the challenges we face. Don't you think?"

Chrollo's smile widened, though it didn't reach his eyes. "Purpose, you say? Interesting." He leaned back, crossing his arms as he considered your words. "But what if your purpose is tied to destruction, to chaos because the world failed you? Can that be considered a valid purpose?"

The question sent a shiver down your spine. You knew what he was getting at. Chrollo's life was one of bloodshed and mayhem, his purpose seemingly intertwined with the suffering of others. The thought of justifying such a life made your stomach churn, but you couldn't afford to show weakness.

Sometimes, you mused, Chrollo must think of you like a butterfly strapped to his table while he dissected you.

Or that's how you felt.

"Purpose is subjective," You replied carefully, your voice steady despite the unease creeping through you. "Some might find meaning in creation, others in destruction. But I believe it ultimately comes down to how we perceive our actions and the impact they have on the world around us."

Chrollo's eyes narrowed, the intensity of his gaze becoming almost unbearable. "And what about you?" He asked, his voice soft but deadly serious. "What is your purpose? What meaning do you find in your life?"

The room seemed to close in around you, the air growing colder, more oppressive. You could feel the weight of Chrollo's expectations pressing down on you, as if he was daring you to give the wrong answer. Your mind raced, searching for the right words, the right response that would satisfy him.

"My purpose..." You began, letting your eyes fall to your folded hands. You didn't have one, not anymore at least, he stole that and any chance that you could find it. "My purpose is to live. To experience everything life has to offer, the good and the bad. To find my own path, whatever that may be."

My purpose is to survive you, to kill you. But not yet, dear. You concluded mentally, imitating his tone.

Chrollo studied you in silence, his expression unreadable. The tension in the room was almost suffocating, the silence stretching out until it felt like it would never end. Then, slowly, he nodded, as if accepting your answer — though you couldn't tell if he was satisfied or merely amused.

"An admirable sentiment," He said finally, though his tone was laced with a special kind of amusement. "But remember, the path you choose may not always be under your control, life has a way of steering us in directions we never expected. I'm certain you're quite familiar with this."

Chrollo was a man who thrived on control, on manipulating the lives of others to suit his own ends. It annoyed you greatly that he liked to pour salt over the wound, teasing you about your current predicament.

This time you didn't look away. You held his gaze, refusing to let him see the fear that threatened to consume you. If you were going to survive him, you needed to be strong, to show him that you weren't just another victim.

"I suppose that's true," You replied, forcing a small smile. "But I also believe we have the power to shape our own future, to defy and erase certain aspects of it."

Chrollo's eyes gleamed with a dark amusement, and for a moment, you thought you saw something dangerous flicker in his expression. "Perhaps," He nodded, his voice low and almost mocking. "But remember, in the end, the meaning of life may be nothing more than what we make of it… Or what someone else makes it for us."

The conversation ended with those words, the tension in the room slowly dissipating but leaving behind an unsettling feeling that lingered in your chest. Chrollo rose from his seat, his movements graceful and deliberate. He gave you one last, lingering look before turning to leave, his presence as haunting as ever.

"I'll buy us something to eat, behave yourself in the meantime."

As the door closed behind him, you were left alone with your thoughts, the candle's flame flickering weakly in the darkness. The meaning of life, what did it matter in a world where someone like Chrollo Lucilfer existed, where lives were manipulated and discarded without a second thought?

You couldn't shake the feeling that, in his own twisted way, Chrollo had found his meaning right here and now.

And if he did, if he found his meaning, you didn't want to know what it was.

#yandere chrollo #yandere chrollo lucilfer #yandere chrollo x reader #yandere chrollo x y/n #yandere chrollo x you #yandere chrollo lucilfer x reader #yandere chrollo lucilfer x y/n #yandere chrollo lucilfer x you #chrollo x reader #chrollo x you #chrollo x y/n #chrollo lucilfer #hxh chrollo #chrollo hunter x hunter #tw yandere #lorkai imagine

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qqueenofhades · 2 months ago

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fwiw: a lot of people follow @roach-works who just reblogged yo ur comments on history, books, and authoritarian regimes' inability to indoctrinate entire populations.

I'm an ex classics major with a lot of history under my belt, who knows Rome sutmr under a corrupt oligarchy even when it coughed up a hairball like Nero or Commodus. (Of course, it helped that Rome worked on the pragmatic principle, "How can we keep society and infrastructure functioning, given that positions of power tend to be occupied by the rich & corrupt?" I like to joke that Western Rome never fell; it just became the mafia.)

At any rate, my tendency to see the US through the lens of Rome makes me a pessimist: I assume we'll manage even in a dystopia.

I'm working on expanding my knowledge of world history to counteract that, but it's great to check in with a sane historian who will help me resist crowdsourced panicmongering.

Look, as I have said, I 0% blame anyone for being scared. I'm scared. With no exaggeration or hyperbole, Shit Real Bad, and it's undoubtedly going to get worse, at least in some ways, before we have a chance to make it better. It was completely avoidable, but half of America decided they didn't want to avoid it, so here we are.

Nonetheless, as my last reblog also pointed out, there are still basic historical and critical-thinking skills that we can use here, and to acknowledge that even if it is obviously unprecedented to us, it is not unprecedented to others, and we can study those lessons and think about how to apply them to our own situation. Rome is the obvious model for a world empire brought down by corruption, oligarchy, imperialism, endless foreign wars, income inequality, economic upheaval, excessive militarism, etc etc, but it's not the only one, and the "fall of Rome and start of the Dark Ages" is one of those narratives that gets my premodern-historian rant especially exercised. By the time Rome "fell" in 476, the city of Rome wasn't even the capital of the Empire; the western capital was in Ravenna, northern Italy, and the eastern capital was in Constantinople, where it endured for another thousand years. Roman successor kingdoms were founded in Visigothic Spain, Merovingian Francia, etc., and often imported Roman law, religion, bureaucracy/administration, and nobility relatively unchanged, which is why Latin was the legal, ecclesiastical, and educational language of western Europe until as late as 1962 and Vatican II. The "Dark Ages" are likewise at best an extreme simplification and at worst exceedingly misleading imperial-nostalgia propaganda. Etc etc. I will restrain myself.

Rome dominated the (European/Near Eastern/north African) world in the way that the 19th-century British Empire dominated the actual world and American empire dominates now, at least for the moment, and thus we have to recognize that similar dynamics are at play here in a late-stage imperial decline. However, Rome did not just up and vanish in a puff of smoke one day and never appear again, and we also have to recognize that the end of empires is generally a good thing, historically speaking. Yes, absolutely a turbulent, dangerous, and traumatizing time, especially for those living within the imperial core, but still. There's also the blunt fact that America itself has been responsible for a lot (a LOT) of violent regime change, coups, overthrows, bombings, and other disastrous foreign policy interventions for almost the entirety of its existence, and we can't pretend that we are just the shining beacon of unproblematic truth, freedom, and faith that most conservatives, and a lot of saccharine American-exceptionalism liberals, tend to think. If that comes back to bite us and we have to experience the kind of political and social upheaval that we have arrantly and unrepentantly inflicted on other places in the name of our Superior Right... well.

As for the post about history books (here), that was another attempt to push back against the kind of broad-strokes fearmongering that is often prevalent right now. Again: for completely understandable reasons, but still. There is literally no way on earth that the practice of academic history, or the procession of human events, is going to be destroyed because an orange dumbass and his idiot followers took power in America for eight nonconsecutive years. Even if by some miracle he managed to do it in America and the only thing ever officially published was Heritage Foundation balderdash, a) historians in countries other than America would still be writing books about it, and b) again, literally impossible. To return to the history of Soviet totalitarianism that I was addressing in that post, I suggest that people look into the samizdat, the contraband news and literature widely shared in the USSR. They faced far more stringent conditions than we ever will: the KGB controlled access to all word processors and copiers, precisely because they could be used to spread non-regime-approved information, and dissidents had to write and circulate it by hand. If they were caught, they could be disappeared, sent to the gulag, confined in a psychiatric hospital, subject to intensive "state education," etc. But they still managed to pass it around and read it, and it would be literally impossible for this collection of Trumpster chucklefucks to exert even a fraction of this logistical and physical control, when every citizen already owns a laptop and a smartphone. The history books aren't going anywhere.

That all said, of course we are all hyper-alert and anxious and afraid, and we don't want to miss anything that might be important or dangerous or anything else. I get that, I completely do. But we still have to pace ourselves, we still have to apply critical thought and learn how to educate ourselves when something seems huge and scary and unstoppable, and I am attempting to do a small part of that on a niche blue hellsite that won the social media competition by literally doing nothing while its peers all fell face first into being corporate Nazis. The bar is low. But hey, I'm here, and you're here and you're reading it, and we will get through it. I promise.

Courage, etc.

#auronlu #ask #the national nightmare #history #medieval history #soviet history

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autisticlenaluthor · 15 days ago

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jackienat in new york headcanons - inspired by this timeline

jackie is terrible at riding the subway. she’s not afraid of it per se (pre wilderness jackie would’ve been. bc “ew there’s rats and roaches!”) but she has the worst navigation skills known to man. the first time she has to transfer trains alone at 42nd street she gets so confused and lost and overwhelmed that she fully leaves the station at bryant park (with no clue as to how she walked multiple city blocks underground) and finds a pay phone to call nat. she breaks down crying because “it’s a fucking maze in there and i don’t know what i’m doing and i’m not cut out for this” and ends up taking a cab home

when nat takes the subway at night, she acts crazy and scary so that the actual crazies won’t fuck with her. jackie finds a seat far away and pretends not to know her.

nat always gives her spare change to homeless people, even when they’re at the worst of their financial struggles. jackie once makes an off hand comment about how “they could just be using it for drugs” but nat shrugs it off. she knows if she were in their shoes, she’d need to take the edge off too

nat is friends with the local deli guy. they’ve never actually had a full conversation - they just kinda nod and grunt - but they’re friends. on the flip side, the local deli guy hates jackie because she always comes in with a list, takes too long to order, and pronounces every damn syllable in “bacon egg and cheese”

they visit lottie’s old apartment often. they don’t actually go inside - lottie’s still in switzerland and her dad wants nothing to do with them. but it helps them feel closer to her. it makes them feel like they can talk to her, even if not physically.

jackie discovers she has claustrophobia from the wilderness (lottie locking her in the closet/being trapped in the plane) when she has a panic attack caused by the subway stopping in one of the tunnels. the lights go out and jackie just loses it. nat isn’t there when it happens and she starts to blame herself for how bad it was, even though jackie tells her it wasn’t her fault

nat gets a job at a record store and becomes friends with some of her coworkers. they all have similar alt/punk styles and music tastes. it’s the first time nat truly feels like she’s accepted in a friend group without having to fight for her place

jackie’s world is rocked when she sees openly queer people just out and about. she comes home one night excitedly telling nat “we have to tell tai and van about this!”

seeing other queer people in the wild is what makes jackie build up the confidence to link pinkies and eventually hold hands with nat in public. they start going to lesbian bars together and jackie is overwhelmed but fascinated with how lesbians & other queer women are allowed to dress. she always used to sneak her masc clothes on soccer trips where her parents/other adults wouldn’t be able to make comments or force her to change out of them. but it never occurred to her that she could be masc/androgynous all the time or even on days where it just felt right. the more jackie learns about lesbianism and gender and how intertwined it all is, the more she can feel her mind expanding. it’s confusing - makes her understand herself even less. but it makes her want answers

nat blends in as a native new yorker because of her italian accent, idgaf attitude, and just her ability to figure shit out. jackie, on the other hand, is mistaken for a tourist constantly. even after living in the city for over a year, she has a big ass map she isn’t afraid to whip out at any opportunity. nat knows it’s going to be a long day when she sees jackie by the door with her map, sunglasses, high waisted shorts, and yankees t-shirt. she wants to tell her she’s gonna get mugged going out like that - but jackie is smiling so big she bites her tongue. when they get home that night, jackie is shocked to discover her wallet is missing. nat pickpocketed it out of precaution before they even left the apartment.

#jackienat #yellowjackets #jackie taylor #natalie scatorccio #sorry for the spam im just !!!!!! about them #also im a born and raised new yorker so im correct about all of this #i need to write this so bad #i even sprinkled in some trans jackie #jackienat nyc

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ceilidho · 2 years ago

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prompt: post-apocalypse ghost/reader fic where ghost and the rest of his team come across the feral, blood-soaked reader who stabs first and asks questions later. (on ao3 here)

The world ends on a Monday.

Abysmal timing; they’re on leave by chance, the whole lot of them. Soap and Gaz are playing cards in the barracks when they get the call. Price is still in his office when a phone in the corner of the room that never rings suddenly does (he stares at it for a time before picking it up). Ghost is someplace, no one knows for sure; what they do know is that when he does finally answer their calls, he’s out of breath and there’s a thread of panic in his voice that makes the blood in Soap’s veins run cold.

He’s never heard him sound like that. He never will again.

The virus rages across the country, hopping borders like they melt away into the ether. Country after country toppelling to this unnamed virus that demolishes society so completely that there was never a chance for the military to contain it. That chance evaporates before even the faintest spark of hope is lit.

Soap is used to killing, but what he never gets used to is the sight of those things that take human shape. Calling them zombies is easy at first, but even that name comes with a sense of distance; it evokes things seen in films and tv shows, not the real flesh-and-blood of it all, not sitting in a caravan speeding down the motorway with bodies torn apart and scattered across the road. He learns to bite his teeth and hold his bile down at the sight of one of those creatures hunched over the masticated remains of a person.

Then suddenly it’s seven months later. The core unit of them make their way across the continent, taking back roads where they’re less likely to encounter the hoards of infected. They’ve had too many close calls for them to take chances anymore—even armed to the gills and strapped in body armor (the remnants of the military efforts that collapsed within days), Gaz’s shoulder pad has crumpled beneath too sharp teeth and Roach has had his legs swept out from under him, his throat nearly exposed, nearly torn open.

Ghost’s hands are still wet with gore from taking that infected apart. If any of them make it, it will likely be him.

A part of Soap worries about Ghost. Even he feels the tender edges of his own humanity bristle at the day-in and day-out struggle that is now a luxury rather than a hardship. Just being able to survive is a miracle. Ghost just goes dark. From the little Soap knows of Ghost (which is still more than most; he’s confident enough to say that of their group, he’s the one that Ghost shows himself to the most), he knows that Ghost has already endured enough suffering for an army. Never mind a single man.

There’s a flatness behind his eyes these days and it scares Soap, just a bit. He no longer looks like a person behind a mask but rather the sun-baked skull itself.

His worry only fades when they come across the girl.

She’s a feral little thing, half-starved and out of her mind. They see her slip in and out of abandoned houses when they make their way through a small village in the French countryside (or what Soap thinks is France), hair matted with sweat and blood.

It’s Ghost that pauses, Ghost that makes them stop and detours long enough to creep up on her, holding a big hand to her mouth when she howls and tries to tear his whole arm off. It takes over an hour to calm her down long enough to reassure her that they mean her no harm. She tries to take off no less than six times.

Soap has never seen Ghost look smitten, but there’s no other word for it.

When Price tentatively suggests leaving the girl behind—not a terrible suggestion after she tries to stab Ghost—the look Ghost levels him with brooks no further arguments. They’re keeping the girl.

She’s his problem, as far as Soap and the rest of them are concerned. No name, unless it’s Soap yelling “Girl” or “Hey, you!” when she does something stupid like actively seeking out infected to kill. Ghost chuckles all deep baritone when he sees her hack away at an infected man’s neck. It’s enough to make a man hurl. Love in a time of zombies.

He hears them murmuring to each other sometimes, late at night when the team is holed up in a house or a barn they’ve commandeered. Doors always reinforced, someone standing guard on the roof. The low rasp of Ghost’s voice, almost susurrous, almost intimate. Her voice like a chittering wolf.

Hovering between sleep and wakefulness, Soap doesn’t look away from the wall in front of him. He knows if he does, if he turns over from where he’s supposed to be sleeping, he’ll see Ghost hovering over the girl roughly half his size, her face blocked only by the way his arms frame either side of her head. He doesn’t think he’ll be able to stomach the sight of his friend’s hips bucking into the girl.

He hears him mutter something like, “You needed to be found. I needed to find you.” and then it’s enough. He lets his brain shut off.

If it keeps Ghost sane and with them, so be it.

#cod mw2 #cod x reader #cod prompts #soap mctavish #cod simon riley #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #ceil writing #simon riley x you #ghost/reader

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theprettynosferatu · 1 year ago

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“I hate you so much”, she said. “I fucking despise you. You are the worst kind of person to ever blight this world and if I could, I would stomp you like the roach you are”. Her words were most certainly strong; however, they were somewhat undermined by her smile, by the sensual, almost dance-like movements of her body as she removed her top.

“I am well aware”, he said, reclining on the sofa.

“You have no idea. You fucking ruined my life, you piece of shit” she said before biting her lips in a perfect picture of lust.

“And yet here you are. Again”

“You know damn well why I’m here, you monster”

He did. That was part of the charm of the whole affair.

Her hatred for him had been long held, and nurtured lovingly for nearly a decade. In college, she took an instant dislike for his jokes and remarks, which she felt, rightly, to be sexist and dumb. As they matured politically, they found themselves staring at each other from opposite ends of the spectrum. As they entered professional life, her intelligence and skill propelled her well above him, a sin he could never overlook. It was an animosity as strong as true love, as enduring as the sun. And yet she looked at him with the tender eyes of a willing lover as she went to her knees.

It was true. She hated him. But she hated herself more. Or, more precisely, she hated how much her body adored him, how deeply it needed him. His… Every inch of her skin tingled in anticipation, and she realized how seductively she moved even despite her hardest efforts to stop it. It wasn’t her, she tried to remind herself. It was that damn… thing. Her breath came in short, panting bursts. Her eyes fixed on the bulge in his pants. She desperately wanted to blame some sort of mind control, of hypnosis, of strange, sci-fi implant in her brain for how pathetic she was being, and how delicious her pussy felt, eager with anticipation. Sadly, she knew better. She knew what would happen the second she saw his cock. Hell, she could almost smell it and it made her drool. And there was no magic behind it, no esoteric mystery driving her actions.

It was chemistry. She knew it as well as he did. She knew exactly how he had turned her into… this. She knew why her body loved it. She knew it wasn’t love. She realized, consciously, she was simply… fiending. Addicted. A victim of chemical dependency and his fucked up expolitation of her situation.

He always loved this part. When her eyes retained some defiance, her absolute hatred of him was on full display, her disgust with her own actions hidden behind a teasing smile, a bite of her lips. Her body was performing because it had learned exactly what he liked, how to get the drug it needed from him quickly… and the woman behind that body was trapped between her need and her true feelings. It was a delicious mix, especially because they both knew he could destroy her with a simple act, and there was nothing she could do about it. He could tell she was almost shaking, resisting the urge to rip off his pants- an urge he had trained her to resist simply by denying her what she craved most when she gave into it.

Cum. His cum.

She couldn’t help but blame herself. She had done the research, seeking to understand addiction in order to help people, analyzing how the brain reacted to different patterns of rewards and even chemicals… only for him to use all that and turn it against her. And she knew in one second all of it wouldn’t matter to her one bit.

He smiled. She was beautiful, no doubt about it- her jet-black hair, her big, dark eyes, her generous figure… but that wasn’t what attracted him the most. No, it was the way her brain shut off completely as soon as she saw the object of her obsession. That split second when she tried to fight it, when she hated herself for failing, and then…

It only took a single look, and her brain was flooded. Cock. His cock. His beautiful, perfect, delicious cock… Her mouth watered, her body started shaking as the last of her self-control gave way to the animalistic, primal need to…

Perfect. So perfect. The taste. The way she could feel the blood flowing through its veins. It’s strong, conquering hardness. Why would she ever fight against this? Why would she ever think of anything but feeling it in her mouth, taking it deep inside her throat, licking it adoringly? It grew and grew in her mind, pushing everything else away. Her job. Her dignity. Her family. Those things seemed so trivial, so miniscule next to the sensation this cock gave her, as if it made every inch of her skin as sensitive as her clit, her mind a raging inferno and yet perfectly calm: it made sense to worship. It made sense to love this cock. It was just… her place.

Every now and then she fought back. “I hate you”, she would say before moaning and taking him in her mouth, using her tongue to pry moans of pleasure from him, which in turn made her shiver. His pleasure was her pleasure, because his pleasure was a herald of the reward to come. “I hate you so much”, spoken with the loving tenderness of a schoolgirl declaring her love to her first crush.

For a moment she thought of her husband, her daughter. She hated the way this cock made her feel. Hated that she loved it so much more than her family. Hated them for not letting her live in constant worship of the big, perfect cock. Hated herself for thinking it. Hated how good it felt to think about it. Hated how her pussy soaked her panties without it being touched.

“I hate you so much…” she didn’t mean it. Not anymore, not at that moment. But she knew he loved to hear her say it. Loved the power his cock had over her. And she needed to make him cum. Needed to taste it. Needed to swallow it. “You ruined me… you made me into a cock-addicted whore… your whore…”

He was close. She could feel it. Her entire body tensed up, ready to give in completely. “I hate that I love you…”

It happened. Her mind went blank as she swallowed every drop, convulsing in an orgasm that was more than just an orgasm: it was the fulfillment of her purpose, it was heaven and an embrace and complete, perfect peace. It was happiness. It was true love.

He watched her smile on the ground. This made it all worth it: the experiments, injecting himself to make his cum the most addictive substance on Earth… the most powerful of drugs. She was in complete ecstasy. Sure, it would last maybe an hour and she’d go back to hating him. But that wouldn’t last long. Sooner rather than later her body would need him again. She would shake. She would be unable to think of anything else.

Yes, she would hate him. But addiction was stronger than hate.

Did you enjoy this story? You can support my work at patreon.com/prettynosferatu

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inexplicifics · 4 months ago

Note

#7 - geralt/eskel

#11 - Broken Lock verse milena/lambert/aiden

#14 - Jaskier/Geralt

If any of those tickle your fancy, cheers!

Geralt feels the tension drain from his shoulders as he rounds the last bend and Kaer Morhen finally looms into view. It may be cold and bleak and full of terrible memories, but it’s still home as long as old Vesemir keeps the fire burning, as long as his brothers return each winter to drink and share stories and keep company together through the coldest months.

As long as Eskel makes it back, it’s home.

And thank fuck, when he leads Roach into the stable it’s to find Scorpion already in a stall, looking sleek and well-groomed, which is a damn good sign. Geralt untacks Roach and brushes her down and puts a blanket on her and makes sure her stall has water and oats and hay, and leaves her to get reacquainted with Scorpion and the handful of other horses - Lambert’s nameless gelding, Frank’s sturdy mare Easy, Gardis’s high-strung Jitters and Vesemir’s nondescript Stomper, and the ancient donkey which everyone just calls Bitey for good and valid reasons.

Geralt pats each of them on the nose as he leaves the stable, of course, even Bitey. Dodging the donkey’s teeth is good practice, after all.

Snow is starting to blow across the courtyard as he crosses it, and he hunches his shoulders and tucks his nose into his scarf as the bitter wind bites through his clothes and armor like they aren’t even there. Sometimes he thinks it gets colder here every winter.

The door is heavy, but it’s set into an alcove so the wind doesn’t blow it out of Geralt’s hands. He trudges up the stairs to the room he and Eskel share, setting his bags down near the door and hanging his coat on a hook and taking a moment to bury his face in Eskel’s cloak and breathe in deeply. No perfumer in the world would make a scent that’s mostly leather and blood and bitter potions ingredients and a strange sharp topnote that is probably pure Chaos, but Geralt thinks it’s the second finest scent in the world.

And then he makes his way back down the stairs, down past the main level to the kitchen-basement, and slips in through the half-open door to what may actually be the witcher version of heaven, or at least Geralt’s heaven:

A warm, well-lit room with a steaming pot of stew on the back of the fire and the scent of fresh-baked bread filling the air, and Eskel, his shirtsleeves rolled up to bare brawny forearms and his collar open almost to his navel, wielding an oven peel as skilfully as he does his sword. He pulls the last loaf out of the oven and sets it on the counter to cool, then hangs the peel on its hook and turns to Geralt, smiling the crooked perfect smile that Geralt dreams of when the Path is hard.

“Wolf,” he says softly, and opens his arms.

Geralt stumbles forward into the offered embrace, tucking his nose against Eskel’s neck and smelling fresh bread and clean sweat and sharp Chaos - Eskel home, Eskel safe, Eskel uninjured and relaxed, which is the actual finest scent in all the world.

“‘Skel,” he mumbles, and Eskel chuckles, closing his arms even tighter until Geralt can feel his back creak. He squeezes just as hard.

He’s not sure how long they stand there, clinging to each other, but at last Geralt sighs and lifts his head and Eskel’s scarred lips meet his in a kiss that starts soft and ends deep and hungry, and then because neither of them wants the lecture from Vesemir about appropriate places to fuck (which do not include the kitchen), they settle at the long battered table and Eskel breaks open a loaf of fresh bread and they eat warm bread dripping with butter and honey, shoulders pressed against each other, and Geralt thinks the whole long slogging year upon the Path was worth it for this moment right here.

(Or HERE on AO3!)

#questions answered #cozytober #geskel

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anonmousegosqueak · 9 days ago

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mhmmmmm, my brain is doing it again…

RoachGhost fluff because they are two little shits that have no sense of self control, and after a mission in which they basically run the length of a half marathon they have to take a shower :)

Heheheh!

Finally, one that isn't a fully fleshed piece of art. It's still amazing, I can just write it >:)

Showers with RoachGhost are... Fun?

I think there are three ways it could go.

1. a fight to the death (Price always yells at them),

2. Horni,

3. Sweet comfort for the Ded-Bois.

Option one:

They're still hyped up on adrenaline and Roach is being a little shit. Poking, biting, probably hard and annoying af. Ghost on the other hand is not in the mood. Que fighting, cussing, and Roach in a headlock while Ghost aggressively shampoo's the bug. There's been more than one time Price has been called in to break it up.

Option two:

What can I say? Basically exactly the same as 1 but ends... A bit differently? Price still gets called in to break it up.

Option three:

I think sometimes the weight of the world can just be... To much. Not even a good wrestle (or fuck) could help. So what do you do? Gentle kisses, maybe some romantic hair washing (Roach has curly hair and takes care of it, fight me), and burn care. I think this is the only option Price *doesn't* get called into. That is, unless cap also needs some comfort?

#cod #call of duty #task force 141 #cod headcanons #simon ghost riley #gary roach sanderson #poly 141 #john price #ghostroach #roachghost #ghost x roach #roach x ghost

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im-the-reader-of-which-you-speak · 1 year ago

Text

Oral Fixation

Pairing: Eddie Munson/Reader

Summary: You want a kiss. Doesn't matter how, doesn't matter who. Lucky for you, your best friend is there to help.

Word count: ~600

Notes: Fluff. Friends to Friends-That-Kiss. Reader is implied to not smoke. Eddie calls the reader "Princess" and "Sugar." Unaddressed fire hazards.

Your eyes focus on the swirls of smoke hanging above Eddie's bed, drifting from his mouth. A frustrated groan erupts from deep within your chest.

"What's eating you?" Eddie spins towards the source of the noise, eager to irritate you further.

"I want a kiss."

"Alright then," he grins. He makes a show out of puckering his lips and making kissy noises as leans down towards you.

"Eddie no!" Quickly dodging, you push him off. He yanks you back down to him, you two collapse into a mess of giggles.

"Oh am I not good enough for a kiss?"

"Nope. Not as long as you keep smoking these things." You flick the blunt out of his hand. You're freed from his grip as he scrambles to retrieve it from his bedsheets.

"Oh c'mon, you don't love my herbal aroma? Prude." Blunt safely back between his soft lips, he inhales. You make an exaggerated wretch and he rolls his eyes "So who do you want a kiss from then?"

"I dunno. My lips are just like... hungry. I just want it to stop so I can get on with my day and think about something productive."

"An oral fixation." He laughs at you before taking another hit of his blunt, finishing it off and throwing the roach somewhere to be forgotten. "So your waiting for your prince to come and save you? Mr. Right with pearly white teeth and minty fresh breath?"

"God Eds, it's not like I want a relationship right now. I just want a kiss. I guess I don't care who."

"Well I got two lips right here, sugar. Ripe for the taking if any princess who wants them."

At this point you were considering it. Your lips are screaming for attention. That's all you could think about. Burning up inside for any mouth-to-mouth contact. Just a quick little kiss could save you. Just quick eensy weensy little smooch. And what's a peck or two between friends? It's not like you're having sex.

"Hmm" you hum. He had gotten up to change the music. He's in his own world now, biting his lips as he chooses the next record to play. It would just be... scratching an itch. He scratches your back, and you'll scratch his when the time comes. That's what friends do, they help each other.

"Maybe I'll have to take you up on that offer" You announce as he drops the needle. You can hear Pour Some Sugar on Me is what he decided on. "Oh?"

And it'd be quick. Over in an instant. As if you two have never done anything at all.

"Yeah. I need it real bad. Worried it'll kill me if I go one more second without my lips mashed against the closest man."

"Well we can't have that, can we?" He comes to sit right next to you, thigh to thigh. Getting right in your face. You can smell the Mary Jane on his breath. He's looking you right in the eyes, holding an almost... hungry stare. The tingle that was once focused solely on your lips has suddenly engulfed your whole body.

"You serious?" Eddie mutters. Your response is only a tremble.

"Yeah"

In the blink of an eye you two were attached at the lip. It's real, it's too real. But your head is in the clouds, everything is so hazy it still feels like a dream. What must have been only a few seconds feels like a life time. His arms wrap arounds you, soothing the heat in the rest of your body. Your sense of time comes back to you when his lips leave your's. Your body simmers down as the distance grows between you.

You're not sure. Maybe you'll have to try again, for good measure.

"Did that do the trick?" He asks, wiping his mouth with his sleeve.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x female reader

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battyaboutbooksreviews · 8 months ago

Text

🌈 Queer Books Coming Out in August 2024 🌈

🌈 Good afternoon, my bookish bats! Here are a FEW of the stunning, diverse queer books you can add to your TBR before the year is over. Happy reading!

[ Text list below ⤵ ]

❓What was the last queer book you read?

[ Release dates may have changed. ]

❤️ Failure to Comply - Sarah Cavar 🧡 I Spit On Your Celluloid - Heidi Honeycutt 💛 You're Embarrassing Yourself - Desiree Akhavan 💚 Death of the Hero - Briona Johnson 💙 Between Dragons and Their Wrath - Devin Madson 💜 The Crimson Crown - Heather Walter ❤️ Sacrificial Animals - Kailee Pedersen 🧡 Oath of Fire - K. Arsenault Rivera 💛 The Palace of Eros - Caro De Robertis 💙 This Ravenous Fate - Hayley Dennings 💜 Mistress of Lies - K.M. Enright 🌈 Wolf Bite - T.J. Nichols

❤️ In the Valley, A Shadow - Samantha Tano 🧡 Follow My Lead - Adrian J. Smith 💛 The Last Woman I Kissed - Venetia Di Pierro 💚 Full Shift - Jennifer Dugan & Kristen Seaton 💙 Hers for the Weekend - Helena Greer 💜 Come Out, Come Out - Natalie C. Parker ❤️ Rules for Ghosting - Shelly Jay Shore 🧡 How to Leave the House - Nathan Newman 💛 Plot Twist - Carmen Sereno 💙 On the Far Side of a Crescendo - Kalyn Hazel 💜 Tiny Oblivions and Mutual Self Destructions - Maxwell I. Gold 🌈 Daylan and the River of Secrets - Edd Tello

❤️ The Italy Letters - Vi Khi Nao 🧡 The Gender Binary Is a Big Lie - Lee Wind 💚 The House Where Death Lives - Alex Brown 💙 Ash's Cabin - Jen Wang 💜 The Avian Hourglass - Lindsey Drager ❤️ The Heart Wants - Krystina Rivers 🧡 A Grand Love - Janna Barkin 💛 You Can't Go Home Again - Jeanette Bears 💜 Libertad - Bessie Flores Zaldivar 🌈 Her Golden Coast - Anat Deracine

❤️ Mighty Millie Novak - Elizabeth Holden 💛 Rise and Divine - Lana Harper 💚 Dying for You - L Flowers 💙 I'll Have What He's Having - Adib Khorram 💜 Changing Her Tune - Amanda Kabak ❤️ Monogamy? In this Economy? - Laura Boyle 🧡 The Rainbow Age of Television - Sayna Maci Warner 💛 Medusa of the Roses - Navid Sinaki 💙 Confounding Oaths - Alexis Hall 💜 Idol Lives - K.T. Salvo 🌈 Brother's Keeper - Quinn Cameron

❤️ Key Lime Sky - Al Hess 🧡 Crushing It - Erin Becker 💛 The Husky and His White Cat Shizun - Rou Bao Bu Chi Rou 💚 Not for the Faint of Heart - Lex Croucher 💙 Tasting Temptation - JJ Arias 💜 Ami - S. Jae-Jones ❤️ You're the Problem, It's You - Emma R. Alban 🧡 Cubs & Campfires - Dylan Drakes 💛 The Dark We Know - Wen-yi Lee 💙 Practical Rules for Cursed Witches - Kayla Cottingham 💜 Riyati Rebirth - Kalani Shimizu 🌈 The Brujos of Borderland High - Gume Laurel III

❤️ A Bánh Mì for Two - Trinity Nguyen 🧡 Dance of the Starlit Sea - Kiana Krystle 💛 Scattered Snows, to the North - Carl Phillips 💚 Beyond a World Apart - Caitlin Myers 💙 Don't Let It Break Your Heart - Maggie Horne 💜 Nothing Heals Me Like You Do - Harper Bliss ❤️ How It All Ends - Emma Hunsinger 🧡 How Do I Sexy? - Mx. Nillin Lore 💛 The Palace of Eros - Caro De Robertis 💙 Prince of the Palisades - Julian Winters 💜 Better Left Buried - Mary E. Roach 🌈 Back to Back - Jo Fletcher

❤️ DITCHLAPSE / [REALLY AFRAID] - Tommy Wyatt 🧡 The Love Archives: Bonus Scenes & Excerpts for Palestine - Various 💛 Guardian: Zhen Hun - Ying Priest 💚 The Sunforge - Sascha Stronach 💙 Queering Reproductive Justice - Candace Bond-Theriault 💜 Gender Explained - Diane Ehrensaft & Michelle Jurkiewicz ❤️ The Unlikely Pair - Jax Calder 🧡 In Universes - Emet North 💛 We Love the Nightlife - Rachel Koller Croft 💙 Lessons from Cruising - Martin Goodman 💜 Wild Ginger in the Rhubarb - Eule Grey 🌈 Not My Circus - Delicia Niami

❤️ Asunder - Kerstin Hall 🧡 The Phoenix Keeper - S.A. MacLean 💛 Encounters with James Baldwin - Various 💚 Verity's Game - Jennifer Giacalone 💙 Hunt Me! I Crave the Chase - Fae Quin 💜 The Audacity Omnibus - Carmen Loup ❤️ Haunted to Death - Frank Anthony Polito 🧡 Blood Orange - Paige Grunewald 💛 The Bad Things We Did - Chris Archeske 💙 Dark Restraint - Katee Robert 💜 Worth the Wait - Kenna White 🌈 The Maid and the Crocodile - Jordan Ifueko

❤️ Loving Corrections - Adrienne Maree Brown 🧡 The Last Witch in Edinburgh - Marielle Thompson 💛 The Duchess of Kokora - Nikhil Prabala 💚 The Scales of Seduction - Rien Gray 💙 Survival Is a Promise - Alexis Pauline Gumbs 💜 Loka - S.B. Divya ❤️ The Every Body Book of Consent - Rachel E Simon 🧡 Southern Lights - Liz Arncliffe 💛 Then Things Went Dark - Bea Fitzgerald 💙 Death at Morning House - Maureen Johnson 💜 The Last Doorbell - William Parker 🌈 The Pairing - Casey McQuiston

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changenameno · 3 months ago

Text

My Own (Chapter 10)

Summary:

Geralt finds himself once more on the path, gloomily looking at what lies ahead. And you? You had no one, no home and certainly no coin. Well that’d be something you had in common. No coin. You two are surely off to a great start… 

Pairing: Geralt of Rivia x Fem. Nymph Reader

Warnings: MDNI, 18+, Geralt feeling guilty, teasing, pet names, oral sex (fem. receiving), size kink, breeding kink, biting, rough sex, p in v, brattyness, possessiveness, happy & fluffy ending

Wordcount: 4.2K

A/N: Can’t believe this is the last chapter. Hope you’ll like it…As always any mistake is my own. Appreciate every reblog and comment. Thank you and most importantly enjoy ;) ❤️✨

!The Witcher characters and world are not mine!

🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻

(In case you’ve missed CHAPTER 9)

CHAPTER 10

You had to walk, because riding on Roach would hurt worse than going by foot. So you and Geralt trudged side by side through the forest.

Again, you were the first to speak up, after an hour of silence, “You know that it wasn’t your fault, right?”

Geralt turned to watch you for a moment, trying to guess, why or how you could possibly know, he felt guilty. But you gave nothing away, so he simply assumed it had to do with your nature, being a nymph and all.

Though in truth, he just wasn’t as mysterious as he thought. You had seen how his jaw kept working, tightening every few steps, so you assumed he was tense, and the only explanation you could come up with was, that he must have something on his mind, so you’d guessed. Apparently quite accurately, going by his astonished expression.

After a while he finally answered,” It was my fault, if I had been quicker with my sword. None of that,” he gestured to your injured side, “would have happened.”

Thinking about his words, you waited a bit before replying,” You know what wouldn’t have happened also?”

“Hmm, what?”

“That werewolf, actually no, that man, would have died. He never would have been able to return home to his wife, to his two children. And now he won’t have to ever turn again. So technically speaking, you not only saved his life but any future being from getting mauled or killed by a werewolf, as well.”

Geralt couldn’t believe what he was experiencing, never before had someone so quickly been able to change his mind, though he had one last but,” Alright I get what you mean and I agree to some extent. But you were the one saving future victims from getting in harm’s way with your charm and neckless and all.

You only hummed and nodded.

🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻🌻

It took you longer than you had anticipated to reach the waterfall. It was already late afternoon, when your eyes landed on the lake.

The body of water sparkled invitingly, surface gently rippling from the constant stream of the waterfall.

Your feet automatically lead you closer, then you exclaimed, “So beautiful!”

While Geralt had to agree the scenery was stunning, he found it had nothing on you. As you stood there, carefully removing your shoes to feel the water on your bare feet, he thought you looked more beautiful than anything or anyone he’d ever seen. The comparison to a flower, filling his mind again. Though a feisty one…

Feeling the cooling water on your skin was heaven, you just knew it would do wonders for the wound and all the other aches still deeply ingrained in your muscle memory. But you also knew, to have the full effect you had to be completely submerged in the water.

Turning back around, you found Geralt already looking at you, “I…I have to get in. Could you…could you turn around?”

His eyes crinkled in mirth as he answered, while stepping closer, “I could.”

Though he didn��t show the slightest inclination of doing so, he only continued to come closer.

When he came to a halt not even an arms length between you, he whispered, “Or…I could join you.”

Before you could gasp, he had gently pulled you against him, hand resting on your nape, pressing his lips to yours, this kiss for once uninterrupted. His soft, deep moan into your mouth had butterflies dancing in your belly, heat rapidly began to pool between your thighs.

You pushed against his shoulder, breaking the kiss, “Gotta do something first.”

And with that, you kneeled down. Not giving two shits about your clothes getting wet in the process. His sharp eyes rested upon you as you closed yours, beginning the complicated spell.

Your hands looked like they were dancing through the water, more ripples forming on the surface, as you began to utter your incantation. His gaze transfixed when the water started climbing, snaking up your thighs, like a vine, until your dark blouse lifted slightly so it could continue upwards.

The cool water was a relief against your burning wound, you sighed when you felt it prickling across your skin. Once you had spoken the last few words of your spell a white light shone from beneath the fabric of your blouse. Then the water-vine dropped and the only rippling of water was on the other side, where the waterfall met the lake. Finally all your pain was gone.

Upon opening your eyes, you were surprised to find Geralt kneeling in front of you. He reached out, carefully lifting your blouse, making a content noise in the back of his throat when he saw your skin unmarred once more. He let one of his rough fingers gently glide over your ribs, making sure the wound was really gone.

You smiled cheekily at him, taking his wrist, to pull it, and the fabric further up. He got the notion and gently removed your blouse all the way.

Groaning when he could now see your erect nipples standing at attention.

“Oh fuck, look at you.”

You coyly bit your lip, teasing him, “Actually I’d like you to do more than just looking…”

He growled, “Little brat all the way, huh?”

Though he didn’t wait for another cheeky answer, he pulled you onto his lap. Your thighs having to part, to accommodate him in-between them, whimpering when you felt his bulge press against you.

He grinned meanly, nibbling on your earlobe while grunting,” That’s right, you’ll take…Every. Last. Inch.” Each word underlined by a tender bite to your neck.

It made you squeal in delight, picturing how he’d fill and pound into you, in any and every possible way.

The only warning you got, “Hold on tight,” before he effortlessly stood up with you in his arms. What surprised you even more was, that he sat you down again, so that you had to stand on your own feet.

He couldn’t stop his hand from reaching out, he let his thumb tease across your nipple, tweaking it for good measure, which earned him the most wonderful mewl from you.

His smirk grew even more predatory as he commanded, “Undress.”

You complied immediately.

Standing now naked in front of him, even though he was still completely dressed, made you feel vulnerable, but in the best of ways.

The black fabric of his breeches pulled taunt over the enormous tent that had formed.

But you deemed it unfair, that he still had all his clothes on, so you didn’t let his eyes roam about your bared body for long. Gracefully you spun around, quickly wading deeper into the water, despite its coolness, until you couldn’t stand anymore.

Geralt watched you retreat into the lake, every one of your steps making your ass bounce deliciously. But he growled frustratingly, because now he was unable to reach you. Though he had every intention to remedy that, and quickly.

You laughed a little when his angry growl reached your ears, swimming a bit further into the lake. When there was a loud splash, your head whipped around. But the witcher was gone, only a heap of his clothes left on shore. He had dived into the water and now you couldn’t see him anymore.

You turned this way and that, but couldn’t spot him, so you called out, “Ah come on, you’ve had your fun. Where are you?”

Suddenly big arms hugged you close, wet lips against your sensitive ear-shell, “I’m here, you little minx.”

His warm body pressed into your back, making a shiver run up your spine. “And I have every intention on staying here,” whispering the last part, “for as long as you permit me to.”

This time, he felt your shiver and easily turned onto his back, swimming closer towards shore with just one arm, until his feet could touch the lake’s ground and he could stand.

Only now could you feel his stiffness poking into your lower back, filling you with the lewdest thoughts. His arm squished your breasts harder, therefore pressing you further into his broad chest. You tilted your head back, placing your lips against his jawline and nibbling lightly, causing him to growl again. Certain you had just felt his member twitch.

“Careful there. I will bite back.”

You couldn’t stop behaving like a brat apparently, as you mocked,” Hmm. Oh no, wouldn’t want the big, bad wolf to come out, now would we?”

That earned you an even tighter grip around your torso and a hand at your throat, squeezing once in warning.

“Won’t be able to hold back, if you continue to antagonising me.”

Though that only fuelled the desire, spreading through your body. Cunt clenching uncontrollably around nothing.

With his hand around your throat, you could only breathe back,” I don’t want you to hold back. Want. Every. Last. Inch.”

In your position you couldn’t see his face contort into a hungry grimace, but you felt the growl rip from his lips as it reverberated inside his chest and therefore against your back.

“Can’t say I didn’t warn you.”

And with that he started walking to shore, the minute the grassy ground was close enough, he unceremoniously dropped you. You were about to complain, but he roughly manhandled you into his desired position. Taking your breath away, when he ripped your thighs apart to create enough space for him to kneel there.

He glowered down at you, tilting his head slightly, as his eyes slowly began roaming your body. Stopping at your tits to admire the soft flesh of your breasts, before continuing to move downwards.

You began panting, as you were now able to see his wild expression, full of hunger and desire as he stared at your dripping pussy. A little overwhelmed by his heated glare, you unconsciously tried to close your legs, but his steel like grip prevented you from doing so.

Suddenly his intense eyes snapped back up to your face, shaking his head, “None of that, little pup. That right there, “he nodded to your pulsing centre, “is mine. MINE. Do you understand?!”

Pathetically aroused by his possessiveness and the pet name, you whimpered and nodded.

Geralt knew exactly what his words did to you, smirking evilly when he continued, “Oh will you look at that, I thought you hated being called pup.”

And as if on cue, your treacherous cunt started clenching.

“And yet, here’s your little pussy, completely drenched for me when I call you pup.”

When only another whimper escaped your mouth, Geralt chuckled darkly, “That’s right. My little puppy, aren’t you?”

He didn’t wait for your answer, not that you would have been able to reply anyhow, before he sunk down further. Hot ragged breath against your most intimate place, big hands digging into your soft thighs, holding you open for him.

When his nose pressed into your clit, your back bowed of the ground and he grinned up at you, clearly enjoying teasing you mercilessly.

As Geralt gazed at your scrunched up face, pleasure written all over your features, his grip tightened even more. He needed to taste you and now. So he dove in, tongue slithering through your wet folds like a serpent.

He managed to have you mewling for him in seconds, hips trying to ride his face because his slow pace was driving you absolutely insane.

“Ge-geralt…”

His name moaned from your lips, sounded like the finest tune in his ears. Without removing his face from your centre, he replied, “Yes, pup? Tell me what it is you need.”

You wished you could, but with every swipe of his fat tongue, he erased all your thoughts and with that, the hope to formulate a decent sentence.

You could feel his groans against your core, when a long finger suddenly started to push inside, “Fuck, you’re so tight, might actually not fit.”

“Ah mhmm.”

His finger was now all the way inside, knuckles brushing against your hole, “What was that? Fucked the thoughts right out of you, with just one finger, huh?”

You would have slapped him, if he didn’t make you feel this amazing, so instead you reached down, pulling his still wet hair and therefore face harder against your pussy.

He more than complied, as he started to eat out your cunt with vigor, enjoying the slightly painful pull on his scalp and every sweet moan from your lips. He was quickly able to add another finger, beginning to spread you in preparation for a much larger intrusion. His own cock was raging painfully, and he had to stop himself from humping the grass like a pitiful virgin wanting to get his dick wet for the first time. Your whimpers drove him to the brink of insanity, but he knew he had to make you come at least once before you could take him. Impatient he doubled his efforts, two fingers pistoling in and out, while he circled your clit with his tongue.

“Ah… there right there…soo close,” you nearly screamed, when Geralt hit your g-spot every time he plunged his fingers inside.

It didn’t take long for him to get you off, growling when he felt your imminent orgasm. He couldn’t spread his fingers any longer as your cunt bore so tightly down around them. With a last clever bite to your little nub, you were flung over the edge, so suddenly all you could feel was total ecstasy flooding your body.

“Yes that’s it come for me. Come on my fingers, just like that.”

You hummed quietly once your breath had calmed down enough, both hands reaching down trying to pull the witcher up by his shoulders. Reluctantly he finally let your poor cunt rest, pulling his fingers and tongue away, to crawl up, completely covering your body with his. Elbows supporting his weight so he wouldn’t crush you beneath him.

Even though he just made you come so hard you were seeing stars, your pussy felt terribly empty, wanting something to fill the space again. His wild eyes rested on your face, searching for something, and finding it when you smiled at him wickedly.

“There’s my wild, little pup.”

Your hands were still resting on his shoulders, pulling him down into a sensual kiss. Though it quickly grew more heated, teeth clashing and loud groaning, every bit the wild animal you had just witnessed between your legs.

Then it slipped out, without your mind’s consent, “Need you… need you to breed me…”

Geralt stopped all motion, staring down at your equally surprised face. Though he recovered a lot quicker than you did, “Say that again.”

When you only continued to stare at him wide eyed, still a little shocked by your own words, he glared at you.

Without warning, he jumped up, taking you with him. You swiftly wrapped your arms and legs around his body for more stability, as he snarled directly into your ear, “Say. That. Again!”

Only when he bit down where your neck met your shoulder, were you finally able to pull free of the stupor you had been in, “Fuck. Please, Geralt breed me. Need…need.”

He bit you again, this time harder, making you shriek, when he roared, “What do you need?!”

“Need your…your cock to breed me. Please! Ger-alt!”

His sharp teeth sunk into your skin, not letting go. Then you felt it, the wide tip of his cock dividing your lower lips. You hadn’t had time to really look at his cock before, but you didn’t have to, to know he was every bit as thick as he had said.

Having your warm, wet folds spread around his tip felt heavenly already. One hand squeezing your ass, easily holding you above his heavy cock. Geralt’s other hand gripping his base, positioning himself perfectly beneath your hole.

Removing his teeth from your shoulder made you hiss with anticipation. Excitement cursing through you. He let the hand at your arse wonder upwards, settling on your upper back, so he could lean you back a little bit and look at your face. After all, he wanted to see every micro expression when he’d enter you for the first time.

And just like that, be began pushing his tip in, both of you moaning when it wholly popped inside. The head was already so wide you had to try to relax, knowing there was much more to come.

His hips twitched involuntary, pushing more of his length inside, making you yelp. “There, there pup. You can take it.”

Your walls were strangling him, he had difficulty breathing, especially combined with the bruising grip you had on his shoulders and the little noises escaping the back of your throat.

He kept on pulling you down, on his cock inch by inch, eyes fixed on your scrunched up face, so he could see when to stop in case it’d be too much for you.

It was right on the edge of too painful, as your cunt was spread wide open to accommodate his insane girth. After moments of taking deep breaths, Geralt began placing small kisses on your face, succeeding in relaxing you and making you sink lower still.

“Halfway there, just a little bit more.”

That made your eyes fly open, “Halfway?!”

His smug chuckle, did nothing to sooth you as you stammered, “Can’t…no that’s too much. Doesn’t fit…”

He had the audacity to taunt you, with your earlier words no less, “Thought, you’d take every last inch of me? Bit more off than you can chew, pup?”

There it was again, that damned pet name, making your cunt pulse and him chuckle more as he felt every little movement around his stupidly, big cock.

You hissed, “Well that was before…”

“Before what?”

God did you hate him right now. Him and his smug grin.

“Before…before I knew how big you w…,” interrupting yourself with a loud whine.

Geralt amused by your bratty remarks, had tilted his hips, knowingly pushing against your special spot and shutting you right up.

His plan was to make you relax, else you really wouldn’t be able to take him, so he sneaked one hand down between your bodies and pressed the heel of his palm into your clit. Your reaction was instant, lips forming a big o, though no sound left them, too stunned by the electric current strumming through your body at the touch.

“Think I really have to fuck the brattiness out of you, hmm?”

You keen lowly, feeling how you were sinking down on his shaft, this time without pain despite his massive length spearing you open. You threw your head back, as the final inch passed through your hole, filling you up so much you were sure he reached past your navel.

He rumbled darkly, “See, told you, I’d fit…fuck, there you go.”

Emboldened by his words, you carefully circled your hips against his, testing the waters. You were sure, he must be splitting you down the middle. But because his palm was still pressed against you, the little pain you actually felt, soon made room for bliss.

Geralt’s mouth roamed your throat, biting here and there, waiting, growing increasingly impatient. Your walls enclosed him so tightly he wasn’t entirely sure he’d be able to move.

Finally you had eased up on your death grip a little. And your next words ended the sweet hell of his immobility, “Please, Geralt mo-move.”

It was barely there, so caught up in your own bliss you weren’t able to raise your voice above a whisper. But it had instantly broken the spell the witcher had been under, making him roar when he lifted you up, only to let you fall back down onto his cock.

He didn’t ease you into it, an insane pace from the start. And every single fall, was met by such a powerful thrust upwards, you were sure you’d be incapable of walking, come morning.

Your channel squeezed him tighter with every harsh pound inside your cunt, walls fluttering around him.

“Ah fu-uck Geralt,” you cried out after an especially brutal thrust.

“Yeah, feel good? That what you wanted, pup?!”

You could only screech in respond as he repeatedly stole your breath away, when he bottomed out with every forceful shove into your quivering pussy.

Not knowing how he did it, but not complaining either, he ever increased his pace, fat cock bullying your cervix mercilessly. You were losing yourself completely in pleasure, moan after moan spilling out, followed by equally loud growls from him.

Each drop and motion against him, made a loud squelching sound, that would have you hiding your face away in embarrassment, if you still had the capacity to be ashamed. But Geralt had truly fucked out any decent thought, no longer caring if anyone would hear your loud cries.

The witcher drilled into you without abandon, cursing as he felt himself growing closer to the finish line, though he knew you weren’t far behind.

“Yeah, ready to be filled? Gonna come so deep inside, you’ll drip my cum for days!”

His filthy words, tipped you right over, whole body spasming in his hold as you came. The sound you made so pathetic and purely animal, Geralt’s own orgasm was ripped from him. His pace did not slow for another few pumps, until you’d truly milked him to completion. You felt his hot cum adding to the pressure inside your belly.

Still buried deep inside, he panted, “Fuck pup. Took it so well. Did so good f’r me.” Nuzzling your neck lovingly and breathing in your scent, now more mouth-watering than before.

You let your fingers card through his white hair, enjoying the closeness.

Once you both were ready, Geralt pulled out, making his spent dribble down your legs. Slowly he set you down, until you managed to stand on your own. When you walked into the water to clean yourself, you heard him laughing behind you. You turned around, eyebrow raised in accusation, “What are you laughing at?!”

He grinned, when he answered, “You’re wobbling around like a new born fawn.”

Your glare intensified as you grumbled back, “And whose fault is that?!!”

He swiftly joined you in the water, pressing his chest against your back like, before he replied lowly, “Mine.”

Though he didn’t sound apologetic, if you didn’t know any better he actually sounded quite proud of himself.

Then he helped you clean, gentle hands roving up and down your body, even softly kneading your muscles until you were pliant in his hold. He led you back outside and with a lazy wave of your hand you were both dried off.

The both of you quickly getting dressed, as the chill of the evening had begun to catch up to you.

Geralt watched your breasts vanish under your blouse, and when you caught him staring, you teased, “See something you like?”

As a serious expression overtook his face, you grew nervous, thinking maybe you had teased him too much and he had grown tired of your banter.

Though the opposite was the case. He unhurriedly approached, pulling you down with him, until you sat comfortably astride his thighs.

“Actually no, I didn’t see something I like,” he paused, gazing into your fearful eyes, though a faint smile was growing on his lips, “I saw something…I love.”

You gaped at him, shocked by his admission and at the same time beyond happy he felt that way.

“I meant it earlier, you know?” You stared at him quizzically.

“I’ll stay as long as you’ll have me, pup. I love you.”

You couldn’t help yourself, so overcome by emotion you took his face in your hands, pressing a kiss to his lips, before beaming up at his crinkling amber eyes.

“Hmm that could be a long while though. Because I’m not going to let you go, master witcher.”

He chuckled, hugging you closer to his warm body, “Well you’d better. I don’t intend to let you go either. As I said, you are mine.”

Geralt let himself fall backwards, until he lay on his back, with you sprawled over his torso like a weighted blanket, ready to fall asleep when you piped up again,” Geralt?”

“Hmm?”

“You know this goes both ways, right?”

“What does?”

Holding your breath, before letting the words tumble out, “I love you, too. And you belong to me, just as much as I to you.”

After a beat of silence, he shifted so he could see you face, “Of course. I’m yours and you are mine.” To your chagrin, he added, “My own, little puppy.”

You huffed indignantly, hitting him on the shoulder, “Hush. Look at you, not even needing Jaskier to ruin the romantic moment, apparently you are plenty capable yourself.”

His belly rumbled with laughter, his happiness so contagious you had to join in, giggling alongside his deep chuckles.

“Sorry, my love. I promise solemnly to get better.” His eyes still twinkled with mirth.

You simply ignored his amusement, too content with just lying here, so you snuggled closer into his chest for more warmth.

He lifted one of your arms, pulling you up, so your head lay just below his jaw. Then he placed a kiss on your palm, mumbling, “I love you. Sleep well, my little pup.”

You breathed back, “Love you too. Good ‘ight.”

Geralt had never felt this content and happy before. Certain, sleep would come easy tonight, and every night thereafter, as long as you’d be safely tucked away in his arms. Knowing that, he finally began to relax.

He listened to your slow, rhythmic heartbeat, until he was lulled to sleep himself. Though no dream of his could be better than the reality of knowing, you loved him too.

THE END

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sparklypinkflightsuit · 28 days ago

Text

Bleeding Hearts: Part 1

Vince Schneider x Reader

A Romeo & Juliet + Scream AU

Warnings: SMUT and a LOT of it. Angst, a lot of Swearing, Alcohol and Violence, Mild SA, a very dark fic from the darkest corners of my mind.

- Character Visual Board -

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18+ Only

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One thing Vince knew was that he was not a good guy, but it didn’t bother him. It didn’t bother him what people said about him, or the way they scattered like roaches when he walked into a bar or down a busy street.

At 30 years of age, he had cultivated and perfected a mean facade that he valued more than anything. Being feared was worth more than money to him, it was power.

Vince hung out with the lowest of the low, a real bunch of lowlives and thugs he didn’t even have the emotional capacity to call friends. To him, these people were merely a means to roughen up his image enough so that everyone who knew his name feared him.

He joined a gang of bikers called The Devils Run on the south side of Woodsboro shortly after his near death incident 8 years prior, the experience that should have humbled him, but instead it made him fearless. He felt invincible.

He quickly climbed the ranks thanks to his no bullshit attitude, he had no issue putting people in their place, and now he practically ran the gang alongside the founder, Marcus. Needless to say, this pissed some people off, especially Marcus’ son Noah, who was less than trustworthy and not seen fit enough to run his fathers gang.

As his life got more involved with The Devils Run, Vince had less and less time for women. He had never had a good experience anyway, all relationships, if you could even call them that, had been volatile anyway, and he thought it was better this way.

That was until he spotted you one cold Saturday afternoon, laughing at the bar with your friend Rachel. He hadn’t seen you since high school, back when you were that dorky kid who couldn’t tell the difference between foundation and concealer and you routinely wore purple skinny jeans and a bright green hoodie. You looked so different now that he barely recognised you at first.

You had gone away for school, and you must have learned how to do your hair and makeup during this time, and that there was more than just brightly coloured jeans in the world of fashion.

You sat elegantly crossed legged at the bar, a cute little black sundress flowed effortlessly across your figure, your hair falling softly down your back. You laughed at something that slutty Rachel said. God he had always hated Rachel, but you had remained friends it seemed, and you looked radiant as you beamed at her, your eyes creasing.

Vince walked passed you as he made his way to the pool table at the back and your eyes met briefly. Vince registered a flicker of recognition in your eyes and your smile faltered slightly.

“Welcome back, Prescott.” Vince murmured as he leaned close to you on his way past, catching a whiff of your fruity perfume.

“Go away, creep.” Rachel spat, her face turned up in a scowl.

“Fuck off, whore.” Vince bit back.

“Say that again, I swear-“ Rachel started.

“I said, fuck off, whore.” Vince repeated, a smirk across his face.

You rolled your eyes and turned your back to Vince, your elbows resting on the bar. “Cool it, you two.” You mumbled cooly as you sipped your drink, highly unimpressed by the childish behaviour.

Vince smirked, satisfied he had caused her to bite. He relished causing mayhem, it filled him with excitement.

Vince was a couple of years your senior, and you remembered him and his chaos well. Rachel had the biggest crush on him throughout high school and even after he left, she practically threw herself at him, and when he turned her down - hard - she turned to hating him quickly.

You didn’t particularly like him either, it was hard to when his mother despised yours, blaming her for her brothers death, but hate wasn’t an emotion you held for many people.

Your mother always thought Vince was a bad seed. The way he was raised, barely raised that is, and the way he’d followed in his parents footsteps, idolising his uncle Stu, it all just spelt bad news. His father was somehow worse than his mother, and you couldn’t help but feel sorry for him.

 You on the other hand, hadn’t known your father, so your mom was your everything, and everything she said, went. You didn’t question her, after everything she had been through, you really couldn’t find a reason to. She was smart, resourceful, brave, but incredibly weary, and that was something she had passed onto you.

 You had avoided Vince as much as possible, but luckily that wasn’t all that hard considering you were complete opposites and hung out with different crowds.

 You were awkward, bright and friendly, he was cocky, dark and god damn terrifying. You moved in different circles, and you avoided eye contact whenever your paths did cross.

 That was until that night in the bar, and Vince couldn’t stop himself from watching you.

 You looked so different, but it was still you, the only daughter of Sidney Prescott. He couldn’t help but admire how you’d grown into your own skin, no longer that average, awkward teen, but now a glowing, beautiful woman.

 You occasionally caught his eyes on you, heat crawling up your neck, but you pretended not to notice, catching up with your old best friend Rachel, enjoying her company after so many years apart.

 The night drew on and the bar got busier, louder, and drunken townsfolk began to filter in and out.

 Billy, someone Rachel worked with and had been seeing on and off, walked over and slung an arm around your friends shoulder.

 “Hey Y/N. Mind if I steal Rach away for a little while?” He slurred, although still polite enough.

 You laughed, “Be my guest, I need to get back home anyway, early day tomorrow.”

 You hugged Rachel goodbye and grabbed your purse before squeezing out of the busy bar.

You hadn’t realised that you’d brushed the wrong persons shoulder and caught a dangerous eye on your way out, and that someone had followed you out.

 The street was quiet enough for a Saturday evening, most people inside as the cool late November air began to bite at exposed skin and you shivered, kicking yourself mentally for forgetting your jacket at home.

 You rubbed your arms as you walked quickly down the empty sidewalk, the twilight evening darkening almost with every step.

 You thought you were imagining it, at first, but when you strained your ears, you could hear the second set of footsteps that almost matched yours, and you stopped in your tracks.

 As you turned, you noticed a golden haired man, sandy moustache matching his small beard, a thick black leather jacket making him appear even larger than he was.

 He shot you a cocky grin as he closed the distance between you.

 “Can I help you?” You asked, a little uncomfortable at his proximity.

 “I saw you walkin’ on your own, don’t you know how dangerous these streets can be at night, darlin’?” He drawled, a toothpick rolling between his teeth.

 “I’m fine.” You forced a less than friendly smile as you turned back around and continued walking.

 “Woah! No need for the attitude, princess. At least let me walk you home.” He wasn’t asking, and he grabbed your wrist and spun you round to face him. “The name’s Noah, I thought we could get to know one another a little.”

 You tried to pull out of his grip, but his hand was like a vice, and before you could think to cry for help, he was pushing you back into an alleyway, his other hand clasped against your mouth.

 You tried to cry out, but it wasn’t much use, and your other hand found itself trapped above your head with the other, both fitting comfortably in his large hand as his knee pinned you against the cold brick wall.

 In his other hand, he flicked open a pocket knife, scraping the blunt metal against your exposed neck as you whimpered.

 “Scream and I’ll have no choice but to shut you up, got it princess?” He hummed in your ear and you let out a cry.

 The knife pressed harder against your throat as a warning, the tip piercing your skin and a trickle of blood ran down your neck as you began to shake.

 “I said, got it?” He repeated, and nodded as best as you could against the blade.

 “Good girl.” He hummed as his tongue darted out to lick the blood that trickled down your neck, his hips pressing uncomfortably into yours.

 Tears spilled from your eyes as you screwed them shut, waiting for the worst to happen.

 “Noah, you better step the fuck back before I gut you and send your innards to your father.” A familiar voice sounded from the end of the alley, and you felt the pressure against your hands and hips soften.

 Your eyes flew open and Noah’s eyes were no longer on you, but staring sheepishly back at Vince Schneider.

 Vince stood cooly at the end of the alley, his arms by his side and a knife in his own hand, and you suddenly panicked you were only about to be subject to the same fate by Vince’s hand.

 “C‘mon Vince, I was just havin’ a little fun.” Noah argued, but he still wasn’t letting you go.

 “I say what you can do for fun, this isn’t it. Let her go.”

 Noah looked down at you once more and gave you a scowl before he let your hands fall and took and step back. You instinctively shuffled further back into the alleyway, desperate to get further away from him, and you watched as Noah skulked back towards Vince.

 “Fine. Happy now?” Noah spat, and before you could comprehend what was happening, Vince’s fist collided with Noah’s jaw, and a second fell swoop landed in his stomach.

 With a grunt, Noah doubled over and fell to his knees.

 “If I ever fucking catch you doing that shit again, you’re done. Hear me?” Vince spat.

Noah nodded and struggled to his feet and stumbling out of the alley.

Vince watched furiously as Noah disappeared and then turned towards you.

 You cowered, terrified, and Vince raised his hands defensively.

 “Hey… it’s okay. Can I take you home?”

 You stared up at Vince with watery eyes, unsure if this was some fucked up joke. He had never been awful to you, but he’d never gone out of his way to put the family feud behind you before.

 “Look,” he continued, “there are plenty of creeps in this fucking town, I should know, at least let me walk you.”

 You contemplated your odds, and somehow Vince was the safer option, so you nodded shakily.

 “You cold?” He asked, removing his own leather jacket.

 “Oh, no I’m okay.” You tried to refuse, but the jacket was already around your shoulders and you couldn’t help but relish in the warmth that had absorbed into it already. “Thanks.”

 “I’m sorry about him.” Vince said, still standing over you. “He’s a fuck up on all accounts.”

 “He’s not your responsibility.” You shrugged, wrapping the leather tighter around you for comfort.

 “He kinda is, his dad’s my boss.” Vince said as you began walking.

 “Brave hitting him like that if his dad is your boss.” You noted.

 Vince chuckled, his hands sliding into his front pockets. You noticed how he’d filled out nicely as he’d gotten older, his biceps stretched the sleeves of his button up shirt, and the swell of his pecks showed under the few he’d left unbuttoned.

 “Even his dad knows what a useless cunt he is.”

 You walked in silence for a while, the streets now dark and lit only by the odd store, restaurant or bar that was still open. You realised that soon you’d be in a residential area and if he wanted to, he could easily drag you into a bush and no one would be the wiser.

 You breathed deeply, “Vince?”

 “Mmm?”

 “Thank you, for doing what you did back there… but why did you?”

 Vince shrugged, “I might not be a saint but I know what is saw wasn’t right, not by anyone’s hand.”

 You nodded, and you continued to walk in silence.

After a while, your house came into view down the long leafy residential street and you let out a sigh of relief.

 “Bit weird to say it but I owe you one.” You breathed awkwardly.

 Vince grinned but you didn’t see it, “I’ll bank it for now.”

 As you reached the softly lit front lawn of your childhood home, the same one your mom grew up in, you stopped at the front gate and turned to face him.

 “Well… this is me. Thank you again.” You said softly as you pulled the jacket off your shoulders and handed it back to Vince.

 “Don’t mention it.” He stood over you and your eyes locked for a moment, before you pulled away awkwardly. Vince noticed the tiny smear of blood that had now dried on your neck and he instinctively brushed his thumb against it to remove it.

You flinched, but quickly realised you weren’t in danger and you relaxed against his touch.

“Sorry.” He murmured, pulling back.

You looked up at him and smile, reaching up on your toes and pressing a quick kiss on his cheek.

 “See you around, I guess.” You said as you pulled back and Vince watched you in surprise.

 You walked through the gate and down the long winding path to the front door. Vince waited until you were safely inside.

Now he had a bone to pick, and he was going to need a few drinks beforehand.

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- Part 2 Here -

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the-badger-mole · 2 months ago

Text

How the High King of Elfhame Got His Seneschal's Photo

Well, this was a waste of a trip to the mortal world. I leaned against the brick wall of the cafe I'm waiting in front of and bite back an annoyed groan. After all, I knew coming here on the strength of a fourthhand rumor was a long shot. Still, when Randalin told me that he'd heard from his valet who'd heard from the servant of one of the gentry families of the lower courts that there was a rumor of a kidnapping plot against my brother amongst the solitary fae, I thought it best to look into it myself. Now that I know the rumor was just the product of someone's overactive imagination, I wish I had just let one of the spies from the Court of Shadows look into it .

The fact that I probably wouldn't have trusted anyone else with this mission isn't a thought worth acknowledging.

I look down the empty street, expecting the Roach at any moment. Not for the first time, I wish for some way to travel between Faerie and the mortal world without needing to rely on one of the Folk to escort me. I would have asked Vivi if I knew how quickly this little side mission was going to be done. Oh, well.

A dark car pulls to a stop about half a block away from me. I note it absently. After all, I am not waiting on a car. Ten minutes later, I'm starting to get impatient. The Roach had come with his own agenda, I knew, but he had led me to believe that he would be done with his errand long before I was done with mine. I hope he'll show up soon. It was really starting to get cold, and I am not dressed for the weather. I shiver and pull my hoodie closer around me. Maybe, I consider, I should consider making it policy that anyone coming to the mortal realm should carry burner phones so they can stay in touch. Knowing when the Roach would be here would make waiting a little more bearable, at least.

The sound of the car door opening draws me out of my thoughts, and I realize that a man has emerged. Then I realize he's heading in my direction. My hackles go up immediately, though I try to calm myself down. He may not be coming to me. He may just pass me on the way to someplace else.

He does not pass me.

"This isn't a place for loiterers," the man says gruffly. I snort at that.

"If I see any I'll let them know."

"Oh, a joker."

"Only on occasion." The man sneers at me.

He's not dressed the way I picture mortal thugs dressing. He is in a brown leather bomber, but his jeans are clean and crisp, as if he ironed them as flat as he could that morning. Even I know that is unforgivably geeky. On his feet is a pair of shiny black dress shoes. Not boots, or sneakers, like I'd seen on gangsters and evil bikers in movies. The man is also inexplicably wearing a pair of dark mirrored sunglasses, although the sun had very nearly set.

"Why don't you show me your hands?" He phases it like a question, but it sounds like a command. I ignore it and turn my gaze away from him. In my pocket, I turn my fingers against my wrist, feeling the hilt of my dagger there. Let him try me.

"I said show me your hands!" When adding volume to his voice doesn't work, he reaches for me, presumably to force me to obey. The shock on his face when I grab his wrist instead is deeply satisfying. His yelp of pain when I twist it to an unnatural degree is even more so. My dagger stays where it's hidden up my sleeve. I don't need it for him.

Down the street, the car opens again, on the passenger side this time, and another man emerges, running towards me and his friend. Well, a fight will keep me warm, anyway.

"Freeze!" the man shouts. He pulls a gun from his waist and points it at me. Internally I groan as I reluctantly raise my hands over my head. How did I forget about guns?

-:-:-:-:-:-:-

"You're where?" Vivi screeches on the other end of the line. I flinch away from the phone receiver and glance around warily, certain that the police officers can hear my sister.

"I'm in jail," I repeat. "I need you to come bail me out." Vivi goes silent and I swear I can hear her pinching the bridge of her nose. Then, to my surprise, she laughs.

"Alright," she says at last. "Give me an hour."

"I've already been here for three!" I complain.

"Tough!" Vivi cackles. "I have to drop Oak off at a party, and I need get a card for the birthday boy first. You'll be alright. And if you get a prison tattoo, make sure it's a cool one."

"Viv!"

"I'll see you soon." Vivi is still laughing as she hangs up. I have to choke back a growl of frustration as I slam the receiver back onto the cradle.

"Finished?" the deputy who'd escorted me from my cell to make my one phone call.

"Finished," I sigh. A few moments later, the iron bars slam shut behind me. I am not alone in the cell, but the woman on the top bunk is in deep slumber, if her bone rattling snores are anything to go by. Then the smell of her hits me. This must be the drunk tank, I realize. With a huff, I sit on the bottom bunk and wait.

And I wait.

And wait.

One hour passes without Vivi showing up. Then two. At two and a half hours, I get up and pace the floor. Surely they'd give me another call, I think. But then, who else would I call besides Vivi? It was almost a miracle that I remembered her phone number. I never even tried to memorize Heather's. Besides, even if I had, Heather was probably with Vivi, or stuck at home. They only had one car between them.

Finally, as the clock was about to mark the third hour since I'd called my sister, I hear a commotion outside of the cell block.

"What do you mean I can't see my sister? I am here to bail her out. I have the cash right here!" Vivi's voice carries back to me, and I almost cheer in relief.

"Vivi!" I call.

"We're here, Jude!" Vivi yells back. Then her voice goes low. I can tell she's talking to someone, and finally they seem to come to an agreement. Then they are headed in my direction. Vivi appears behind the sheriff and she is the most beautiful sight I've ever seen. I'm so happy to see her that I don't see who's with her for a moment. It's not Heather who is standing behind her. It's Cardan.

Seeing him here, in the mortal realm- in a mortal police station of all places is so jarring, I can only stare for a moment. Especially since he's in a ridiculous red silk shirt with pearls at the cuffs and collar. Then I turn back to Vivi.

"Por que lo trajiste?" I demand in harsh whisper.

"Llegó a mi puerta y no me dejaria salir sin él." Vivi shrugs. "It was faster to bring him."

"That doesn't sound like you're grateful to see me," Cardan says, raising his brow.

"What are you doing here?" I ask him. I'm not angry. I'm too confused for anger, and I guess he sees that in my face, because he's not nearly so defensive when he answers.

"The Roach came rushing back to the palace raving that you'd been kidnapped," Cardan said. He eyed my cell distastefully, keeping well away from the iron bars. I have to force myself not to shrink in embarrassment. "And here you are indeed being kept captive for ransom. It wouldn't be very gallant of me to leave my seneschal imprisoned."

"Estaba furioso," Vivi tells me with an amused glance at him. "Tengo preguntas para ti luego. A lot!"

"Hey, pal," the sheriff cuts in. "Bail ain't ransom. She was arrested, not kidnapped." Vivi shakes her head, ignoring both men.

"Jail, Jude?" she sighs. "Que hiciste, hermanita?"

"Nothing!" I hiss back. "No hice nada. Es solo que él tiene una lasca en su hombro!" I jerk my chin towards the sheriff without looking at him.

"Little lady, assaulting an officer is not a little chip on my shoulder," the sheriff says. Vivi and I fall silent and stare at him. He shoots us a smug smirk. "Yeah, I speak Spanish, too." Behind him, I see Cardan is also smirking. His brows go up in amusement.

Little lady? he mouths silently. I scowl and shake my head at him. No. He will absolutely not make that a thing. I am not above ordering it so.

"You assaulted an officer?" Vivi is doing her best to sound disapproving, but she is barely keeping the grin off of her face, or the laugh from her voice.

"I didn't know he was an officer," I explain for for feels like the ten thousandth time tonight. "Some guy approaches me and starts making vague threats and I'm just not supposed to defend myself? He wasn't in uniform. He didn't even show me a badge!" At that, Vivi whirls on the sheriff, all amusement gone from her face.

"He didn't even identify himself?" she almost yells.

"W-well, h-he...he was only trying to warn her not to loiter," the sheriff stammered. "That block has had some issues with vandals recently, so plain clothes cops patrol there."

"I wasn't loitering. I was waiting for my ride." I press myself to the bars and glare daggers at the sheriff. "Then this random guy comes over and starts demanding to see my hands. I wasn't vandalizing anything! Tell me where that falls under protect and serve."

"Let my sister out!" Vivi demands. "Whatever your officer got was well deserved, it sounds like."

"It sounds like he got off lightly." Cardan's voice is deceptively airy. There's a coldness in his eyes that I know from experience means nothing good for the sheriff.

"I already told you, I can't let her go," the sheriff huffs. "Assaulting an officer is a felony, and a judge will need to set bail. She's in there until Monday." My jaw drops in shock. It's Friday. He expects me to stay in this disgusting cell for two days? Before I can protest, Cardan speaks again. This time when he speaks, the anger is tinged with glamour.

"I believe you'll find that you can let her go tonight," he says.

"I...I can let her go..." The sheriff's voice is distant, as if he's talking in his sleep. "Yes...I...I can let her go tonight. Just be sure to show up to your hearing on Monday."

"There won't be a hearing on Monday," Vivi says, her voice taking the same ineffable quality that Cardan's had. It was always strange watching the Folk glamour mortals from this end. Normally, I'm not a fan, especially of my sister doing it. But I cannot spend the weekend in a jail cell.

"Ri-ight," the sheriff agrees. He goes quiet for a moment and I suppose it's during this time that his brain supplies a good reason for letting me leave. He blinks his eyes rapidly, as if waking, and he shakes his head. Then he unlocks the cell and holds it open for me. "You're free to go."

"Wait, he still has my dagger," I say as I step hurriedly out of the cell. The sheriff closes it slowly behind me and stares at my cellmate thougthfully. She had been snoring loudly through this entire exchange.

"By all means let us retrieve it," Cardan drawls. "We all know how naked you feel without a weapon." Vivi rolls her eyes and enchants the sheriff again. A few minutes later, he's brought my sheathed dagger out from the evidence locker, and thrown away the plastic baggie it had been stored in. I wonder if he will get in trouble for this, then I decide that I don't care. I shouldn't have been arrested in the first place.

"Hey buddy," the sheriff calls Cardan aside. His brow goes up. At the informality of the address, I suppose. Still, he's intrigued enough to move closer. Whatever glamour Cardan had put on the sheriff seems to have left him with the impression that he and the High King were friends. He grinned mischievously at Cardan and hands him a manila envelope. "I figured you'd want a souvenir of your girlfriend's time as a felon."

"I'm not his girlfriend," I huff rolling my eyes. Cardan accepts the envelope nonetheless. I'm too tired to care, though. It must be near dawn, and all I want is to go home and sleep.

"What did he give you?" Vivi asks as we make our way to her and Heather's car. Cardan opens the envelope and pulls out a glossy picture. It's my mug shot. A flash of hot rage rolls through me, and I have half a mind to go back inside and show the snarky sheriff what assault with a deadly weapon truly looked like.

"I need ten copies of that!" Vivi howls with laughter. "I'm sending this to everyone!"

"No you're not!" I say, snatching the picture out of Cardan's hand and stuffing it in my pocket. "We are never talking about this again."

"Oh, honey," Vivi laughs again, throwing her arm around my shoulder. "You know that's not true." I grumble something vaguely threatening as I climb into the backseat of the car, but I know she's right. At least the photo evidence will soon be gone. I plan on burning my mugshot as soon as I can.

Later, in my rooms at the palace, I intend to do just that. Only when I check the pocket of my hoodie, it's gone. It must have fallen out in the car.

-:-:-:-:-:-

In his room, Cardan pulls out the photograph the sheriff had given him, and smooths it out. It's not very wrinkled, despite having been shoved unceremoniously into Jude's pocket. The woman herself stares up at him, holding a black placard with Duarte written in white block letters and a series of numbers beneath that. Loose strands of hair had fallen from her simple braid to frame her face, and she looks like she'd just been through a battle. Cardan supposes that wasn't far from the truth. Despite her apparent disarray at the time of her arrest, she manages to somehow look both imperious and sullen at the same time. Cardan grins at the image, knowing that Jude might actually kill him if she knew he had it.

Some months later, when she is in the middle of carving a space for herself in his room (their room, he corrects himself), Cardan is proven right.

"Are you serious?" she demands, snatching the framed photo from among his things on the dresser. Her eyes are alight with anger when she rounds on him. Cardan only chuckles in reply.

"Well, I could hardly commission an official portrait of you without drawing some uncomfortable questions," he tells her. "Besides, I don't think any painter in Faerie or the mortal world could capture your essence quite as succinctly as this."

"Get rid of it!" Jude orders him. His wife didn't need any magical binds to get Cardan to do whatever she wanted. He would swim the entire ocean to bring her the fruit of the trees that grew in the Court of Teeth if she wanted. But in this, he would have to insist on his own way. He crosses the room and gently pulls the picture from his wife's resisting hands.

"I would sooner throw my crown in a tar pit," he tells her. At her indignant shriek, he laughs again and kisses her forehead. The novelty of having the privilege to do so hadn't yet lost it's luster, and Cardan suspected it would be a very, very long time before it did. "Have I ever told you how adorable you are when you're angry?"

"I thought I was terrifying," Jude says, crossing her arms and scowling at him. Cardan shrugs.

"Who said you couldn't be both?" He smirks at her as he goes in for the final blow, "My little lady."

Now there's a part 2

#tfota #jude duarte #vivi duarte #cardan greenbriar #jurdan #ever since i found out it's canon that jude is part hispanic #i've been kind of obsessed with the idea that the duarte sisters speak a bit of spanish #i feel like it's a cornucopia of comedic and dramatic potential that got wasted #in my headcanon their mortal dad spoke it to them when they were kids #and vivi insisted they keep it up while in faerie #she teaches them what she remembers from justin and what she picks up from telenovelas when she makes her secret trips to the mortal world #so now they all speak spanglish #it's kind of their own little code while they're in elfhame #so jude is REALLY annoyed that the cop understands her #also cardan's reaction to roach telling him he saw Jude being bound and loaded into a car at gunpoint was SOMETHING

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