something permanent pt 14 ♡ yandere!leon kennedy x reader
nsfw (18+) - minors. i stg. do not interact or i will call the cops
reminder that this is a dark fic, if any of the following bothers/triggers you, do not read: yandere!leon kennedy, kidnapping, forced daddy kink, forced breeding, pregnancy, non/dubcon
in other words, dead dove: do not eat !!! u have been warned and u are responsible for ur own media consumption.
chapter index: pt. 1, pt. 2, pt. 3, pt. 4, pt. 5, pt. 6, pt. 7, pt. 8, pt. 9, pt. 10, pt. 11, pt. 12, pt. 13
'something permanent’: the spotify playlist
word count: 6.8k
description: leon and darling become parents at last.
tags/warnings: yandere!leon kennedy, fem/afab!reader, no use of (y/n), some gory descriptions cus darling goes into labor obvi, girl dad leon, corny dad leon, horny dad leon (no smut tho i'm sorry. she just gave birth idk what u want from me), medical setting, breastfeeding, manipulation, stockholm syndrome-ish implications, some angst but also fluff
a/n: !!! i hope this was worth the wait <33 big big big big BIG sexy thanks to @dollfacefantasy and @gigabyte-flare for beta reading <3 i don't really have anything else to say other than that i appreciate everyone's patience while i've been dealing with some pretty major life things and i just hope you like it. gentle reminder that the taglist has been moved to the bottom of the chapter to reduce clutter
my masterlist ♡
my ao3 ♡
fic under the cut, thanks so much for reading and i hope u enjoy !!
-venus ♡
It went without saying that Leon had seen a lot of gore in his life.
A whole lot of gore.
He'd witnessed gushing bullet wounds, gaping slices of undead flesh, pulverized bodies, genetically modified monstrosities exploding into even more horrific versions of themselves, only to be slain by his hand, often spraying back to douse him in the kind of fetid rot that couldn't be washed out, only burned, the kind that clung deep in his skin for days after... and yet nothing could have possibly prepared him for what it would be like to witness you going into premature childbirth.
Nothing.
You were in so much pain, you were hollering and crying so hard you could barely get a breath in, and apart from holding your hand, he was powerless to help you. It was gutting.
"Shh, shh... you're doing so good, baby, just breathe with me, just breathe," He said to you, trying to manage his tone to be as reassuring as possible, but the stress had long since become him.
How could it not? He was watching his own lover split apart while conscious, pleading with the universe to ease the pain, even with an 18-gauge needle in the spine. You were miserable, and you were terrified, and Leon was terrified too. Perhaps even more than he'd ever been, because this wasn't supposed to be happening yet. He was supposed to have at least another month and a half to pamper you and watch you grow, at least another month and a half to prepare for this.
Not to mention he wasn't entirely fond of the swarm of nurses in your face and between your legs, the rotating door of doctors and specialists working on your exposed body with absolutely no capability of understanding how important you were to him, how special and sweet you were, how little you deserved this.
It did occur to him, in the midst of all the noise, that perhaps this was the wrong idea. That he shouldn't have forced the one person he loves the most in the world to suffer like this on his behalf. That maybe he'd made a grave mistake that he could never atone for, a mistake that would surpass anything he's ever experienced in its devastation.
But all of those fears crumbled to ash when he saw her for the first time.
Monday, December 21, 2015. Winter solstice. 3:36 a.m.
She was so pink. She was so, so small, so pink, and so angry to be alive, but she was alive and crying. She was alive.
In that moment, Leon experienced whatever the opposite of blacking out was, a shot of pure adrenaline down his spine that made everything shine a little brighter. He didn't even realize he was crying with relief until he turned and saw that you were, too. You were barely cognizant, what with the delightful cocktail of shock and panic and pain medication coursing through you, but you were conscious and aware— at least for now— limp with exhaustion aside from clutching Leon's hand for dear life while the professionals got to work sewing you up, and he couldn't help but swipe your slick hair away from your forehead to shower you in tearful kisses.
"My good girl... I'm so fucking proud of you," He spoke into your hair, pressing a heavy kiss to the crown of your head as his free hand cradled your cheek, holding you as close to him as he could physically manage. "I love you so much... I love you..."
You weren't really registering much other than the pure relief of it all, but Leon couldn't blame you. In his eyes, he just witnessed you creating his entire universe, and you deserved all the rest you could get. You'd certainly need it in the coming months.
And even just the coming weeks, as many as it might take for her to incubate and grow a bit.
She was alive, and she was as healthy as she could be, considering the circumstances, but Christ, she wasn't even done cooking yet. She was so little, weighing in at just three pounds, seven ounces, and she looked more like a gummy bear than a baby. She was hooked up to so many machines in the NICU that he could barely stand to even watch after a while, for his own peace of mind.
But he couldn't relax, either, so Leon just stayed at your bedside for most of the night, watching you sleep. Killing time. Occasionally he would wander off for a walk up and down the halls, or to the cafeteria for a bitter black coffee to jump his brain, or he would linger by the window into the NICU for a while to watch her sleep, to see her pink and yellow baby blanket just barely rise and fall with every tiny breath so he could know for sure she was really here. And then he'd repeat his rounds all over again.
The nurses promised him over and over again that she was healthy, that there was no cause for concern at this point, but that didn't really stop him from concerning himself quite severely. He wasn't even sure he understood his own metric for what it would take to get him to relax at this point, so he just stopped asking questions after a while.
Walk the halls. Bitter black coffee. Check on baby. Walk back. Check on you. Wash, rinse, repeat. Eventually the nurses were looking at him like they were debating offering him an Ambien under the table just to calm him down, and perhaps because he'd grown so used to avoiding drawing attention to himself, that was when he finally decided to just sit his ass down at your bedside and stay there.
In his boredom he found that the TV was perpetually stuck on the Hallmark channel, streaming from an endless well of corny, poorly written holiday movies that left more than enough to be desired, but it was better than nothing. Leon couldn’t stand the silence, and at least it kept his mind somewhat occupied while he thumbed through that heavy book of baby names.
He’d already found one he liked— Abigail— but that still left room for one more. He couldn’t even decide if he thought that should be her first name or her middle name. All he knew was what the book told him, flowery words describing the meaning of the name as that of my father’s joy, and that was quite true, wasn’t it? She was his firstborn, and more than that, her mommy was you. Nothing in the entire universe could possibly stand to make him happier or more joyous, and thus Abigail was fitting. But how was he supposed to find another name to describe her when he hadn’t even had the opportunity to get to know her yet?
Or was this secondary name his opportunity to start a thread of her destiny for her?
It’s not like he never asked you for your opinion, you had just chosen time and time again not to give it to him. You were almost completely impartial when it came to talking about the baby, so regardless of how badly he ached for your participation in planning for the life you’d created together, he had long since become bitterly used to making decisions like this on his own.
With a deep sigh Leon let the book rest in his lap, fingertips drumming on the wooden armrests of his chair in thought of the kind of life he wanted for his baby girl. All he could think was that he wanted her to run, play, and be happy. He wanted her to be good to the world and he wanted the world to treat her even better in return. He wanted to ensure she’d never have to worry about a thing, that she would grow up kind and quick and a much better woman than he ever was a man.
He wanted her to be gentle and sweet and protected, like a princess, his jubilant little baby princess.
Lifting the book once more, Leon opened it back up to its table of contents and skimmed over the lines for the millionth time, only now he actually had a vague idea of what he might be looking for. The book was structured in sections, the first being cultural and regional names, the second being historical and literary names, and the last section was an alphabetized glossary of them all in one. It was exhaustingly organized and comprehensive to the last detail, but hey, so was he.
Tracing the page with two fingertips, he found the historical section of the table and went down the line, skimmed over architects, artists, explorers, war heroes, religious figures… all the way down to royalty.
Leon’s hope wavered a little bit when he found most of the names under that section to be underwhelming or flat-out bad when paired with ‘Abigail,’ but his mind had been set on that for so long that he’d already decided he wasn’t budging on it. He was toying with the idea of taking a break from his search for the night, until an entry on the list of princess names caught his eye. In his exhaustion, he must have previously overlooked it.
Charlotte.
“Charlotte Abigail,” Leon mumbled aloud, testing the name on his tongue. “Charlotte Abigail Kennedy…”
It flowed from his lips like a beautiful waltz.
The enticing scent of Leon's umpteenth black coffee was the first thing you noticed when you woke up, followed by the dull, full body ache that weighed you down to the hospital bed. Your head was throbbing, your eyes and throat were stinging and dry from overexertion, but more than that, you felt something like relief.
Yes, it was definitely relief, because any amount of pain in that moment felt like reprieve in comparison to active labor. And maybe you were still a bit fuzzy from the meds, but you weren't complaining.
Slowly, you blinked awake and took in your surroundings, the room quiet aside from the occasional beep of electronic medical equipment, and the subtle, rhythmic rumble of... Leon snoring?
Tilting your head, you saw Leon right there at your bedside, coffee untouched and still steaming on the little tray next to him. His legs were outstretched, arms crossed at his chest, and he had his head tilted back with that comically large book of baby names split open to rest over his face, blocking the fluorescent lights and rising sun from his tired eyes. You just watched him for a moment, knowing he'd likely spent all night fretting over you until he couldn't keep his eyes open anymore.
For as much as you would have loved to just lay there and enjoy the quiet for a moment, though, you knew it was probably wiser to let him know you were awake. At least that way you could talk him into forfeiting his coffee.
"Hey," you spoke up gently, your voice hushed with sleep and a bit hoarse, "I'm pretty sure the shop in the lobby sells bookmarks."
He jolted a little and then stirred, gravity pulling the heavy book down until his arm shot up to catch it and lift it from his face with an exhausted look of surprise. "Y-You're awake—”
"Gimme that," you interrupted, arm outstretched in a dramatic show of grabby-hands at the paper cup of coffee placed just outside your reach. You could barely even remember the last time you were allowed a sip of coffee, and having to lay here smelling it but not tasting it when you so sorely needed it was torture.
Leon blinked once or twice in confusion, clearing away the haze that clouded his frayed neurons, and as his eyes followed the path between your fingertips and the shitty cup of black coffee he'd fallen asleep before having the chance to drink, he couldn't help but puff out a little laugh, handing it off to you without hesitation. For fuck's sake, you'd earned it, hadn't you?
The cup had been sitting there idle for just long enough that its contents weren't blistering hot, but perfectly drinkable. You took a quick sip, and then another, nose scrunching up for a moment because it tasted more like a dirty ashtray than it did coffee, but somehow it still went down like liquid gold. At least the taste was enough to keep you from drinking it too fast.
"How do you feel, pup?" Leon asked, tracing the curve of your cheekbone with a delicate thumb. As joyful as it was to see you awake and in decent spirits, he had to ask, because it's not like you were just waking up from any old nap. He watched you split apart last night. He could still smell your blood. Surely you had more to concern yourself about than caffeine.
Setting aside the cup, you searched your mind for the right way to articulate how you felt right now, but found it exceptionally difficult to encapsulate what all was going on up there after giving birth for the first time. So, you decided to start with how your body felt and work your way through it from there.
"Sore, like a bowling ball went through me... but it's not unbearable. I think the pain meds are still working," you began, tilting your head to let your cheek squish into the palm of his hand. "I feel a little numb and groggy."
With a sympathetic hum, he nodded, leaning over you to smooth your messy hair back and press a kiss to your forehead. "I'm not surprised, baby, you do seem a bit silly. They drugged you up pretty good," he said, speaking from experience, "but at least you're not in too much pain."
A beat of surprisingly comfortable silence passed between you two as you finished waking up and Leon just stared at you, as he often did. While the air between the two of you felt thankfully free of tension, it wasn’t without anticipation, nor was it without the presence of that massive elephant.
You knew she was okay because if she wasn’t, Leon would be having a nuclear meltdown, but you barely even got to see her before you passed out, so you didn’t know how okay she was.
“Where is she?” You asked gently, hands fidgeting in your lap.
“She’s in the little incubator, but they said they could bring her in here when you woke up, if you were feeling well enough,” he answered, looking up at you through his lashes like a pleading puppy as he asked, “are you?”
You felt a rush deep in your chest that you couldn’t explain, emotion, and you found that your head was bobbing up and down in a nod before you even thought about it. You didn’t need to think about it. Of course your feelings about your situation and this baby were… complicated, to put it kindly, but you spent seven-ish months cooking the damn thing, so you might as well take the chance to hold her and get to meet her, right?
Leon didn’t waste any time scrambling off to get a nurse, and as you sat there waiting, you couldn’t help but wonder what she was going to be like. You weren’t ignorant of the fact that newborn babies didn’t have strong features yet, but you wondered if she would have any hair on her head, or what she would feel like in your arms, or what little sounds she might make. The few short minutes it took for Leon to return with your baby and a couple of nurses felt like a million years.
The door opened, and your heart stopped beating for a second. Your mouth dried and your eyes burned with tears.
She was so little.
Even swaddled up in a blanket, her tiny body was barely the width of Leon's forearm, her little head rested in the crook of his elbow while her socked and blanketed feet were tucked in the palm of his hand. Everything you felt in this moment was truly overwhelming— fright, nerves, and perhaps even a bit of pride, because come on. You made that thing. Willingly or not, you made your own little human, and in a removed context, that was crazy.
She was so little that you were almost afraid to touch her, trembling as Leon lowered her into your arms, but right away there was something about having her near that felt familiar to you.
Like an old friend.
For a long few minutes, you just cried. Deep, ugly, open-mouth cries that made your entire body feel weak. You couldn’t possibly get ahold of yourself, or even begin to understand how you were meant to.
Stooping down to kiss the crown of your head, Leon spoke gently into your hair, voice thick with emotion, “I-I named her Charlotte. Charlotte Abigail.”
Oh, how pretty. Internally you had to admit that he chose well, whatever his reasoning was.
“A beautiful name for a beautiful girl,” you sniveled, thumb caressing the thin, tender skin of her cheek, your chest throbbing as she squirmed and poked the tip of her tiny tongue out. “I-Is she okay? Are there any issues?”
The nurses calmly explained to you that she seemed to be regulating her temperature well enough on her own, but that the incubator was a precaution that would allow you and Leon the opportunity to get some actual rest. Her blood tests didn’t show any concerns and her oxygen levels were okay, but other than that, it was too soon to tell if anything else might be off, and they spared you the anxiety of getting too specific about the potential complications just yet. She would likely be spending at least 30 days in the NICU for good measure.
You, on the other hand, would be well enough to be on your feet as soon as the numbness wore off. That wasn’t to say it would feel good if you did, just that it was possible and wouldn’t kill you, though Leon would probably need to help you around for a few days… as if he needed the doctor’s order to do that.
Once they were sure you were healthy and comfortable, the nurses stepped out and for the very first time, it was just you, Leon, and your child.
“I’m so proud of you,” Leon whispered, watching you reverently. The sun had risen enough now to drench you in a saintly glow, your skin radiant and dewy with motherhood, your eyes glittering with tears as you gazed down at the sleepy baby cradled in your arms. “You’ve come such a long way, puppy, and just look at what you made for me. Look at what a perfect little angel you made for daddy.”
Letting out a slow breath from your nose, you resisted the urge to react to that. He’d done a pretty decent job of acting normal since you went into labor, and you didn’t realize how badly you were hoping he would keep it up until he ruined it with a brisk return to form. Perhaps the blame was on you for getting too comfortable with your expectations that high in the first place.
What felt especially unfair about it, however, was that his phrasing got beneath your skin more than you thought it would. Telling you that you’d come such a long way, and all because you made a perfect baby for him.
For daddy.
You’d only just had the chance to allow yourself to feel some kind of a bond with her, and Leon was already claiming ownership over it without a second thought. You wanted to snap at him that not everything was about him, that it wasn’t your goal to please him even if something you did made him happy, but you just couldn’t bring yourself to say any of it.
Charlotte hadn’t even been born for 24 hours yet, you couldn’t start fighting in front of her already.
You stood in front of the window with Charlotte swaddled tightly in your arms, letting her watch the glittery, falling snow outside in an attempt to calm her. She was red in the face and hollering with all the power in her little lungs— which was a lot, you’d come to learn— quite cranky about the fact that your milk was taking its time to come in. In defense of your boobs, the girls thought they were going to have eight more weeks to prepare than they ended up getting.
But at a certain point you just had to wonder when enough might be enough. You knew it wasn’t your fault, that your difficulty producing breastmilk so soon after going into premature labor didn’t reflect negatively upon your ability to love and provide for your daughter, so why did it feel that way? You were trying to keep ahold of your emotions for the sake of your daughter while wondering somewhere in the back of your mind if you were even fit to care for her, if it was your fault that she was starving.
“It’s common for newborns to lose a little bit of their birth weight in the first few weeks, especially waiting for mama’s milk to come in,” the attending nurse calmly explained to you as she changed the sheets on the bed. “Don’t be so hard on yourself, dear. There’s no guide to being a new mother.”
“Thank you,” you replied over the shrill cries of your daughter, letting some of the tension drop from your shoulders. Leon had told you nearly the same thing practically a thousand times over the past few days, but it was hard not to convince yourself that he didn’t know what he was talking about and was just spouting nonsense to make you feel better. It felt more legitimate coming from a professional.
Once she finished up changing the bedding, the nurse offered to take Charlotte for a while if you needed a break, but for right now, you didn’t really mind. Having her close was supposed to stimulate milk production, as you’d been told, and for lack of a better way to put it, you sort of enjoyed hogging her from Leon. He’d stepped out for the morning to check in at work and grab a few things from the house, so he wasn’t here to take her anyway, but you felt it was your responsibility to seize every available opportunity to bond with her. You needed her to know that you were there for her, that you weren’t budging, and that you never would.
Being alone with her was a treat. She really was so cute, just a teeny tiny little thing, and you could have already sworn she had your nose. She was pretty.
“Oh, Lottie, Lottie, Lottie,” you sighed affectionately, cupping the back of her head to cradle her close to your shoulder, gently swaying and bouncing on your feet. “What am I gonna do with you, huh?”
As expected, her only response was a continuation of shrill cries. Part of you worried that your presence wasn’t comforting her at all, but every time you slowed in rocking her or made any move that she perceived as you getting ready to put her down, she hollered louder and clung to you for dear life. Clearly she knew where her bread was buttered.
You crossed the room in slow, bouncing steps, trying to keep her distracted just long enough for you to sit down with her in the rocking chair. Little as she was, your arms were getting tired from holding her up, and you just needed a bit of a break from it. Pressing your lips to her soft forehead, you breathed in through your nose and began quietly singing to her.
“I’m… a lonely little petunia in an onion patch, an onion patch, an onion patch,” you hummed, “I’m a lonely little petunia in an onion patch, and all I do is cry all day… boo-hoo, boo-hoo…”
It was an old, old song, and you weren’t even really sure where you remembered it from, but Charlotte seemed to enjoy it, and it felt fitting enough right now. Dragging in a breath, Charlotte reached up to rub her eyes with her chubby little fists, wailing cries beginning to soften down to weepy whimpers. It was victorious moments like this that almost made you forget how you got here.
“Hey, sweetheart,” came Leon’s voice from behind, reminding you exactly how you got here, “how are my girls?”
Almost immediately, Charlotte started screaming again.
Sighing out an exhausted breath, you turned over your shoulder to watch Leon approach, trying not to let it show on your expression just how annoyed you were that he’d ruined her calming mood right after you managed to get her there.
“Cranky,” you answered him simply.
Leon clicked his tongue and moved to sit at the edge of the coffee table in front of you, reaching out to brush your hair away from your face with a sympathetic gleam in his eye. “No milk yet, huh?”
You shook your head.
“Oh, puppy… I’m sorry.”
The look on your face gutted him. He could tell you were blaming yourself in some way, feeling guilty for not being able to produce quite yet, but his mind wasn’t lingering anywhere near blaming you for this. You’d already been through so much just to deliver the baby— if anything, he’d be more surprised if these next few weeks were to proceed perfectly after that. You were a superhero to Leon right now, a goddess, and not even gods or heroes were exempt from hardship, from plain bad luck.
“It’s fine,” you said with a slow sigh, “the nurses swear we’re getting somewhere. There was some of this… I don’t know, like… clear, sappy stuff that came out this morning, and they said it’s good for her, so…”
Nodding gently, Leon took your hand and squeezed it, trying to get you to actually look at him. “Well, that’s a good sign, right?”
“I think so… I don’t know. I hope so.”
“I hope so, too, baby.”
A few moments of silence fell between you— aside from the screaming newborn, of course— and Leon continued to think about how proud he was of you. When he first brought you home with him, you were adamantly against the idea of having babies, let alone being pregnant at all. But you took it like such a champion, nourished and cared for your child anyway, his child, and even after going into labor unexpectedly early, your priorities and your focus still remained on her.
He couldn’t confidently say he’d have been as brave if it were him. That alone gave him a lot of reflecting to do.
“You’re incredible, you know that?” Leon asked, squeezing your hand again. “Absolutely incredible.”
“I don’t know about that,” you puffed out a dry breath, finally looking up at him. “Women have been birthing babies for thousands of years. I’m no different from any of them, unless you count panic-attacking myself into early labor, and even then I’m not the first. And I definitely won’t be the last.”
Shaking his head in affectionate disagreement, Leon said, “As far as I’m concerned, you didn’t just hang the moon, you molded it with your bare hands. Just… take the compliment, pup. You deserve it.”
A slight smile graced your lips for just a second, like you briefly allowed yourself to believe what he was saying. As much as it pained him to think about, Leon knew you hadn’t been given a whole lot of incentive to take him at his word on anything, but when it came to the praise you’d earned for making him a father, for growing his baby in you, it was so important to him that you knew he wasn’t just talking out of his ass.
So he spoke up again, following his praises with a gentle, genuine question; “Why are you being so hard on yourself?”
This gave you pause. He wasn’t wrong by any means— you absolutely were being hard on yourself here, in every way you could think of. The ways you’d been talking about and carrying yourself since he came home from San Francisco were indicative enough of that. It was like you were cowering from yourself, avoiding every part of you that made you you, like a mouse in a lab finally recognizing which buttons would shock you.
“She needs me,” you finally muttered, cradling Charlotte closer to your chest, even as she screamed your eardrum out. “She depends on me, I can’t just… fail her.”
“Fail her?” Leon whispered, encouraging you to continue.
Swallowing back nerves, you suddenly found you were having a difficult time making sense of what you’d been feeling lately, let alone putting it into articulate words. Still, you replied to the best of your frazzled, tired ability, “She was supposed to have eight more weeks… she wasn’t ready to be born yet, and I freaked myself out so much that I put her at risk. I’m so grateful that she’s okay, that it didn’t end badly, but Leon… it could have. It really could have.”
“I know,” he soothed. “I know it could have, but it didn’t. It didn’t. Look at her, she’s here and she’s alive and she’s healthy. She’s got strong lungs. She’s got your nose. She’s perfect, sweetheart, she’s absolutely perfect, and that’s not in spite of you, it’s because of you. I’ll repeat that as many times as it takes for you to internalize it.”
That framing of the situation was surprisingly insightful, coming from Leon, though you supposed he’d had some practice in forgiving himself over the years.
Sniffling, you nodded, letting out a shaky breath. “T-Thank you… daddy.”
He leaned in to kiss your forehead, and Charlotte began to settle.
You were so confused when you woke up in the middle of the night to Charlotte crying again— not because of anything she was doing differently, but because of how you felt. Sitting up in bed, you briefly glanced over at Leon to find that the commotion had roused him too, stirring him from a light sleep.
“I can get her,” he was quick to rasp out, voice clouded with grogginess, but for once, you put a hand on his shoulder to stop him.
“No, no, wait,” you whispered, your other hand kneading at your sore chest in an attempt to soothe the discomfort, but this wasn’t the same kind of breast pain you’d grown used to by now. They were tender and full to the touch, nipples stinging under your nightgown.
And leaking.
Eyes widening, you shot out of bed with a quiet, excited exclamation of, “oh, shit,” not even taking the time to mull over how silly it seemed to be so ecstatic that your nipples were leaking milk through your favorite nightgown. All you could think about right now was her. You could finally sate her hunger.
Leon sat up too, rubbing his eyes and leaning over to turn the bedside lamp on, trying to wake himself up enough to understand what you were acting so urgently about. Only once Charlotte’s cries were silenced and replaced with a soft, greedy suckling sound did he realize what was happening.
“Oh,” he gasped, stunned, “shit.”
You just laughed, completely unable to wipe the stupid grin off your face. Feeding for the first time felt really fucking bizarre, but with how happy you were that your daughter was finally able to eat, you couldn’t bring yourself to care even slightly. That was far from the biggest thing on your mind.
“She’s eating,” you beamed, turning over your shoulder to look at Leon, desperate to share this moment with the only person who could truly understand your relief. “She’s eating, Leon, she’s— she’s perfect. Holy shit.”
“You’re perfect,” he smiled wide, crawling out of bed to join you where you stood by the crib, his strong arms slinking gently around your waist. Pressing a kiss to the highest point of your cheekbone, Leon whispered in your ear, “I knew you could do it, puppy. I love you, I love you both so much.”
And now you were crying. You couldn’t help it.
Charlotte fed for a good long while that night, gulping down every stray drop she could find, and you and Leon just watched her in complete awe. She could barely keep her eyes open in her satisfaction, long lashes fluttering angelically upon chubby cheeks, her squishy little lips bobbing back and forth with every suckle as you both cooed at her and cheered her on.
Wiping away a drop of milk from her chin, Leon preened, “Oh, little Lottie… such a good eater, princess, my goodness…”
“Such a good eater,” you echoed, adding playfully, “must’ve gotten that from your daddy. He gets grouchy without breakfast, too.”
“Hey now, it is the most important meal of the day,” he pointed out to his own defense, very much in on the joke, though he couldn’t help but add another cheeky point that was reserved only for your ears. “Well… the second most important meal of the day, right behind dessert.”
Groaning, you rolled your eyes at him, “Cornball. You’re a horny, horny cornball.”
He only smirked, “Guilty as charged, pup,” and kissed you again.
Your mood improved a lot over the next several days, and Leon was so grateful for it. The timing couldn’t have been better for squashing your insecurities about being able to care for Charlotte. Waking up to feed her wasn’t something that stressed you out anymore, it was something that made you feel useful and needed, which you always were, but now you truly believed it. Leon joked more than once that he’d never seen you happier to whip your boobs out at any given time.
You were eating well, you were laughing, you were getting lots of good rest, and you were actually talking to him. Like, talking talking, not just nodding your head and pretending to follow along. You told him about your day, you told him how you were feeling, you commentated on TV shows together. Your unanticipated stay in the NICU was turning out to feel a lot more like a dream than a nightmare, and as such, he was almost reluctant to see it end.
But time marches on, as it always does. Part of him worried you’d go right back to being difficult once you were home and the novelty of new parenthood wore off. Part of him wanted to trust that you wouldn’t, because you truly understood everything now. Didn’t you?
The final week of Charlotte’s monitoring was dwindling down, and now that he wasn’t so preoccupied with worrying himself sick about you both, he couldn’t stop thinking about what you said to him before you went into labor.
‘Daddy, I have to tell you something.’
Whatever it was, you never told him. In the chaos of everything that happened right after, he almost forgot you even mentioned it, but it’d just been gnawing at him since the dust settled.
Leon wasn’t sure how to approach this with you. Talking about it clearly distressed you last time, even though you brought it up on your own, and he didn’t want to risk setting you off, but the intensity of emotion it brought was undoubtedly indicative of its importance. By principle, you should tell him if there’s anything he needs to know, right?
Maybe it wasn’t all that important. Maybe your reaction at the time was just a product of your condition, the hormones and anxiety, and maybe you hadn’t even thought about it since that night. Maybe it really wasn’t a big deal.
So why had it been so obviously eating you alive during the final leg of your pregnancy?
“Baby?” Leon asked quietly, tilting his head to look at you. It was three in the morning and you were laying in bed together after Charlotte finally fell back asleep for the millionth time, partly trying to get some more rest and partly preparing yourselves to have to get up again at any moment. But it was peaceful, and he hoped that would mean you were calm and comfortable enough to have this conversation.
Humming in acknowledgment, your eyes met his. He had his arm around you, thumb caressing you at the waist, your cheek against his chest. It was now or never.
“I’ve just been thinking lately… the night Lottie was born, you said you had something to tell me,” he began, pouring all his effort into coming off as non-threatening as possible, careful not to spook you. “The little lady interrupted you and I never got to hear what it was. Do you remember, sweetheart?”
At first you couldn’t move, completely paralyzed in his arms. Your initial inclination was to panic, of course, but for once in your life, the nerves weren’t manifesting like they probably should have been.
Or, rather, like they definitely should have been.
You resumed breathing, biting your lip while you tried to organize your thoughts and come to a decision. It would be a tough shot to lie right now, you knew that, and while you would have usually tried to come up with a convoluted way to worm yourself out of this, for some reason, you didn’t even really feel the need to right now. Leon had been in a great mood. You were pretty sure he hadn’t stopped smiling since Charlotte was born, and even leading up to her birth, he had been acting so gentle and loving with you.
But you still needed to cover your bases if you were going to be honest with him.
“Do you remember saying that whatever it is, we’ll handle it? That I wouldn’t be in trouble?”
Uh oh, Leon thought to himself, but didn’t dare let it show on his expression. That’s not a great start.
“I do,” he nodded encouragingly, “and that still stands.”
All you had was his word, and that was going to have to do, wasn’t it? Taking a deep breath, you tightened your arms around his middle as if preemptively pleading for mercy, and then you quietly admitted, “I-I broke the rules while you were away on that mission.”
He figured as much while speculating on what it might have been, so this didn’t really floor him too much yet. “Okay. What rules did you break?”
You hesitated for a beat, looking away to collect your thoughts and then back again, hoping he could see the guilt in your eyes, the regret.
“I went outside,” you whispered, feeling an awkward and unpleasant heat burning at your ears— shame. “I-I went on a walk, a long walk, and…”
Now it was Leon who wasn’t breathing. “And?”
“And I tried to get h-help.”
There it was. You tried to get help. Help. As if you needed any fucking help when you had Leon.
But then again, he thought, she didn’t have me. I wasn’t there.
His bottom lip quivered until he bit it back, stooping his head down to bury his face in your hair, hiding, both arms holding you tightly to him. He wasn’t sure how to feel. He thought he was prepared for anything you might have to confess, but this… this was devastating. This felt awful.
“God fucking damn it, puppy,” he wept, “what were you thinking?”
The realization that he was crying made you tear up too. He wasn’t angry, he was anguished.
“I-I’m sorry… I know, I’m sorry—”
“Did anything happen? Did anyone see you? Did anyone touch you?”
“No, no, n-nothing happened, no one touched me, I promise—”
“Don’t you ever do that shit again,” he sobbed weakly into the crown of your hair, clutching you to him like you’d fall apart if he let go, or perhaps like he would fall apart. “Do you hear me?”
You just nodded, stifling your cries with a hand over your mouth to keep from waking the baby. She was sleeping so peacefully in the crib a mere few feet away.
“I hear you, I hear you, I promise I won’t ever do it again… it was freezing and I was so scared, I… I couldn’t get home fast enough…”
Home. Was that what it was to you now?
“Good,” Leon said firmly, but not apathetically, sighing out a deep, shaky breath. “You don’t just have yourself to worry about anymore.”
You and Leon were practically tangled with one another, stuck together like glue as you desperately tried to soothe each other. Silence fell around you again.
stop making demands of fanfic writers. if there's something you want to see more of in fanfic, there are several Great options that do not include putting down people who are enjoying a hobby, such as:
writing it yourself
buying a commission from a talented writer
encouraging your writer friends to dabble in the subject/trope
share fics that are already doing it
foster creativity and make the change you supposedly want to see in fandom. making sweeping comments like "fanfic writers don't write x correctly" is not helping anyone.
nothing funnier than seeing someone mass liking my stuff then going to their blog just to see something along the lines of "dark content freaks dni!!!" like.. I think you might have gotten lost lmao
You're absolutely right because I've seen this, too. One time I had what I'm assuming we're two friends that binge read my entire vampire/plagas!Leon series, like all of them and both of them reblogging and praising how good it was, only to go onto their blogs and see a plethora of anti-dark content posts.
The anti-dark content people are the fake-est bunch of assholes.
The way that when I see the dark anti posts I check the likes/follows to block people and there is ALWAYS a least 1 mutual/follower in there, the last one had 4.
Like bestie, what???? You know people can see what you heart on this app right??
Summary: You are the daughter of a wealthy family in New Eridu. Lycaon has been your loyal butler since you first moved out from your childhood home. You're about to find out just how far Lycaon is going to go to prove his devotion to you.
Word Count: 4.8k
Pairing: Von Lycaon x fem!reader (afab)
Disclaimer: This story is a work of fiction. Actions depicted in this story are not condoned in real life. You are responsible for your own content consumption. If any of the following warnings trigger you, please read at your own risk. Minors do not interact, this story is 18+ only.
Warnings: Mild Yandere, implied r@cisim (not by reader or Lycaon), domestic violence (not by Lycaon), attempted SA (not by Lycaon), graphic violence, dubcon, oral (f receiving), pet names, playful biting, unprotected p in v, knotting, breeding kink, creampie
A/N: Just when I thought Jiyan from Wuthering Waves had me in a chokehold (he still does), Hoyo literally said "hold my beer." Does being down bad for Von Lycaon make me a furry? Probably. Do I care? Nope. He's hot and I can't get enough of him.
"As you can see, we had record profits this month. The campaign with the promoters definitely made a huge difference in our profit margin--"
You can't help but let out a loud sigh, resting the side of your face in the palm of you hand as your elbow keeps your head up as you stare into the webcam at your office computer. This is your last meeting of the day, heck, of the week. Unfortunately with the finance department of your family's business: a publishing company for video games and video tapes. Given how popular consumable media is in New Eridu, the business had taken off, you and your family now set for life. This also meant that your parents expected you to take over once they retire; you were still struggling to come to terms with that fact.
"-- that concludes this week's financial overview, I hope everyone has a good weekend!"
You waste no time turning off your webcam and shutting down your work computer. You couldn't get out of the office building fast enough. Getting into your car, you make the drive home to just beyond Sixth Street.
You live in one of the larger homes on the outskirts of New Eridu thanks to the success of your family's company. You park your car, getting out and approaching your front door. Before you even have a chance to dig your keys out of your pocket to unlock the door, your front door opens and you are greeted by your tall, imposing wolf Thiren butler: Von Lycaon of Victoria Housekeeping.
"Welcome home, my lady. I already have dinner started. I trust your day went well?"
"Hey Lycaon… it was alright," you reply as you step through the doorway, Lycaon stepping aside to let you through, "what's for dinner?"
You feel his deft clawed fingers help you take off your jacket before walking it over to the entryway closet to hang it up, his steel mechanical legs echoing in the entryway as he walks.
He answers you while hanging up your jacket, "roasted chicken with mashed potatoes and broccoli, my liege."
You chuckle, "you've been here for years, yet I still cannot get used to you addressing me like someone who's important."
Lycaon turns slightly just as he was about to shut the closet door, his red eye scrutinizing you, "but you are important, my lady."
You feel your cheeks tingle at his response, but quickly shake your head to compose yourself, "Do you… need any help with dinner?"
"I do not require any help. Not that I would trouble you with such trivial matters," he replies, walking away from the closet to head back into the kitchen.
"If you insist…" you hesitate; even after all this time, you're not accustom to having someone else doing all the house work, "I'll be in the living room watching TV. Come get me when dinner is ready, alright?"
Turning to you once more, Lycaon gives you a nod and a subtle smirk before walking into the kitchen. You don't realize your eyes are lingering on him as he walks away; watching the intricate parts on his prosthetic legs move as he walks, the way his right arm his bent behind him, his fist clenched, the way his large bushy tail wags gently as he--
You blink a few times, once again shaking your head and bringing your hand to your forehead.
Fucking hell, girl, get a hold of yourself. He's your freaking butler.
You turn and walk into the living room, collapsing onto the couch. Leaning forward, you grab the remote off of the coffee table and turn the TV on, mindlessly scrolling through the channels before settling on some talk show. You don't focus on the show, instead, you pull out your phone and check your notifications. You notice you have a Knock Knock message from someone, so you open the notification bubble to check it.
"Hey! It's Steve, are we still on for dinner tomorrow?"
"Oh… that's right… I'm supposed to have dinner with that guy Mom hooked me up with…" you say to yourself, rolling your eyes before you type out your response.
"Yeah. Did you still want to pick me up from my house?"
You see the typing ellipses pop up a few times before his response comes through, "if you're comfortable with that, yeah!"
Normally, you would never let some strange man pick you up from your house to go on some blind date, but you know for a fact Lycaon wouldn't let anything happen to you; those mechanical prosthetic legs weren't just for show. You've witnessed first hand the damage they can do a handful of times in the years you've known him.
"My lady," you hear Lycaon call to you from the threshold of the living room, startling you from your thoughts, "my apologies, I didn't mean to scare you."
"No, no… it's fine. I'm guessing dinner is ready?" you reply, turning around to face him while still seated on the couch.
"Indeed. Would you like to eat in the dining room or here, my lady?" he asks as he straightens his posture.
"We can eat in here. Come watch TV with me Lycaon, I insist." you reply, waving him into the living room.
"As you wish, my lady, I shall plate dinner and bring it in here, one moment."
You watch as he gracefully turns around, walking out, the metallic rattle of his legs echoing as he returns to the kitchen. He returns promptly with two plates of food and utensils. He hands you your plate first before taking his own and sitting in a nearby chair. He crosses his legs, his large tail then settling onto his lap as be began to eat his meal. You waste no time digging in; you absolutely loved Lycaon's cooking and tonight was no exception. You're so focused on your meal that you almost miss your phone vibrating in your pocket. You pull it out, seeing another Knock Knock notification.
"I take it you don't want me to pick you up at your house…?"
"Oh shit…" you curse to yourself, having forgotten to respond to Steve.
You quickly text him to that it's fine and send him your address before gently setting your phone onto the coffee table.
"What was that all about, my lady?" Lycaon asks, as perceptive as ever, even while eating dinner.
"Oh nothing," you say, tucking your legs up onto the couch as you continue to eat dinner, "I'm just making plans with someone to go to dinner tomorrow night. I forgot to text him back."
"I see, should I plan to make dinner just for myself then?"
"No, set aside a plate for me… just incase the plan falls through…"
"As you wish, my lady."
The two of you continue to eat dinner in silence, your gaze unconsciously wandering over to him, lingering on his mechanical prosthetics before moving to the mask he wears on his face, which covers one of his crimson eyes. You've always wondered what had happened to him, but Lycaon never talks about himself and you didn't want to pry into something that is probably really painful for him.
Sensing your gaze on him, he clears his throat before speaking, "Is everything alright, my lady?"
"Oh--! Sorry, I was just zoning out…" you quickly retort before returning your attention to your meal.
Once the two of you are finished with your meal, you switch channels and watch the latest episode of Starlight Knights while Lycaon gets absorbed in a book. Exhaustion sinks its teeth into you suddenly and you fall asleep on the couch. Noticing this, Lycaon sets his book aside, standing up and scooping you into his arms before carefully carrying you to bed upstairs, his tail wagging gently the whole way there.
The next morning, you are pulled from your sleep by the smell of bacon. Your eyes slowly open and you stretch your arms out over your head, letting out a loud yawn as you do so. You glance over at the clock; it's nearly 10:00 in the morning. You're shocked Lycaon had let you sleep in this long. Upon setting your arms down in front of you, you come into contact with a breakfast tray. The food on it is still hot, Lycaon must have just brought it in. He made your favorite: waffles with fresh berries, syrup and bacon. You can't help but smile as you grab the nearby fork and dig in.
As you're eating, you suddenly realize you don't recall getting into bed last night, you were still wearing the outfit you had on yesterday. Lycaon must have carried you to bed… again. That's been happening more and more frequently, you feel terrible that he felt obligated to carry you to bed. Still, you feel a warmth in your chest thinking about him taking care of you; you guess that's only natural given he's been your butler for so long.
Your parents had insisted on hiring someone from Victoria Housekeeping when you decided to move out after buying a house, mainly for protection. Being the daughter of a prominent publishing giant came with its risks as you soon learned. As unnecessary as you found it at first, you were very grateful for Lycaon's protection and companionship. Even so, you were hesitant to admit you've caught feelings for the enigmatic butler; could anyone blame you though? Von Lycaon was legendary in both his services and his physical prowess; hence why your family hired him specifically. Only the best for their daughter.
Despite your complicated feelings for Lycaon, your mother insisted on playing match maker. This latest man she picked out is the first one you've entertained going on a date with, mainly to shut your mother up. You honestly had no desire to date anyone; you have everything you could possibly need right now, even with how you feel about your butler.
The rest of the day is uneventful and before you know it, the sun is setting, casting orange rays into your windows. Lycaon is in the kitchen doing up dishes when he hears a loud knock on the door. He stops, his gaze shifting to the front door as whoever is out there continues to knock. Letting out a low growl, he takes his hands out of the dishwater, drying them off before putting his fingerless gloves back on. Tucking one of his arms behind him, he approaches the front door, opening it. He is greeted by short human male, his brown hair greasy and slicked back with a red goatee that is haphazardly trimmed and rectangle glasses. The man's eyes widen upon seeing Lycaon, who is glaring down at him with a furrowed brow. The man tries to speak, but finds himself at a loss for words.
"What business do you have with my Master?" Lycaon asks, his tone dark, his threatening gaze unwavering.
"I… uh… I'm here to pick up… uh…" the male stammers, checking something on his phone.
"It's fine, Lycaon! I'm expecting him, his name is Steve!" Lycaon hears you call from within the house.
Upon hearing you come down the stairs from your bedroom, Lycaon turns to look at you as you approach the front door. You suddenly stop in your tracks upon seeing the man at the front door, your eyes wide.
He looks nothing like the photos your mother sent of him.
Sensing your unease, Lycaon goes to you, giving you a reassuring pat on your shoulder as he shifts to stand behind you, standing tall and puffing his pectoral muscles outward; almost as if he's asserting his dominance. You banish the thought; that'd be ridiculous, he's your butler for crying out loud!
"Is this the person you mentioned you were going to dinner with, my lady?" Lycaon asks, his crimson gaze still locked on Steve.
You nod, swallowing hard as you struggle to get your anxiety under control. Your mother probably sent an outdated picture. Everything will be fine.
It wasn't fine. Steve took you to some dimly lit dive in Lumina Square; you didn't even think a place this dingy could exist. You are not a vain person, but this place is absolutely abhorrent. Steve was rambling on and on about god knows what, you stopped listening awhile ago; wishing desperately to be home where a beautifully cooked meal would be waiting for you. You're glad that you had Lycaon make a plate for you.
"-- so, what's with the Thiren living with you?" Steve asks, ripping you from your thoughts.
Realizing he's asking about Lycaon, you sit up straight, setting your hands onto the table, "he's my butler, why?"
Steve scoffs, giving you a sly smirk, "he's awfully jacked to be just a butler. I've never seen a Thiren built like that."
"He is able to protect me if needed, if that's what you're getting at," you reply, not even bothering to hide the annoyance in your voice.
"You won't need him anymore," Steve says, that stupid smirk still on his face as he leans forward, resting his chin on one of his hands as he rests his elbow on the table.
You lean back, crossing your arms, "and why is that?"
"Because you have me now."
The silence that follows after Steve's statement could have been cut with a knife. You discreetly pull out your phone, opening the Knock Knock app and send a single message to Lycaon.
"Lumina Square please come."
"I don't recall telling you that we're dating," you finally break the silence as you look up at Steve, your heart pounding in your chest as your anxiety heightens.
"You didn't have to, you let me take you to dinner. It's clear you're now my girlfriend," Steve says, gazing at you like you're a slab of meat, "and I want you to get rid of that butler. I don't need some disgusting Thiren third wheeling us."
He's one of those people. Fucking great.
"Lycaon isn't going anywhere, thank you very much," you reply as you suddenly stand up from the table, making your way to the entrance of the restaurant, "this date is over."
Steve stands up, rushing over to you and grabbing you by the wrist, pulling you to him, "you're not going anywhere, sweetheart!"
The small handful of people in the restaurant just stare at the two of you as you struggle against Steve's grasp; no one makes a move to help you.
"Let go of me you greasy asshole!" you yell, spitting in his face.
Steve scowls, wiping your spit from his face before slapping you across the face. You cry out when his hand makes contact, tears stinging the corners of your eyes. One of Steve's hands grasps your back side, squeezing so hard that you know for certain it's going to bruise later. The other hand grabs your chin, forcing your head so it's facing his and he tries to kiss you.
The front door of the restaurant suddenly gets kicked in and you feel a familiar chill in the air. You don't need to look to know that your loyal butler has arrived.
"Get your filthy hands off my Master," Lycaon growls, his heavy steps quickly advancing.
Steve sucks in a breath, his eyes widening as he lets go of you, shoving you away. You can see that he's trembling, frozen in place. You notice a wet spot on his pants, right between his legs.
Oh my god… he's pissed himself.
You stifle a laugh at this realization as you watch Lycaon approach him. The individual parts on his mechanical legs popping out and coating in ice, cooling the air around him. You pick up the chatter around you.
"Isn't that the owner of Victoria Housekeeping?!"
"Yeah, that's Von Lycaon!"
"I wouldn't want to be that guy right now…"
Steve stumbles backwards as Lycaon stalks towards him, his posture confident and his right arm tucked behind him.
"Dude I'm sorry! I was desperate ok?! It won't happen again!"
"You're right," Lycaon growls, his eye shifting up at Steve, his gaze like a crimson dagger, "it won't."
Within a blink of an eye, Lycaon rushes forward, punching him in the gut. Steve hunches over, a splatter of blood coming out of his mouth. Lycaon brings up one of his legs, kneeing Steve in the face before bringing his other leg around to give him a roundhouse kick. You cry out along with the other patrons as Steve is hurled into the back of the restaurant, crashing against the wall so hard, it leaves a large indent in the wall where Steve's body made contact before crashing to the floor. For a moment, Steve doesn't move and you start to fear that Lycaon might have killed him; that is until Steve starts groaning, staggering while standing up.
"You… You hit like a bitch…" Steve groans, wiping the blood coming from his mouth.
You spot a subtle smirk form on Lycaon's lips as he walks towards Steve, ice once again gathering on his mechanical legs, several different parts starting to glow. He stands in front of Steve once more, who is now laughing nervously.
"Say that again, cretin. To my face."
Not so tough now that Lycaon is inches in front of him, Steve remains silent, his legs wobbling as he fights to keep himself standing up. You watch Steve swallow hard, seemingly building up his courage.
"You hit like a bi--"
If you had blinked, you would have missed Lycaon kicking straight upwards, causing Steve's head to violently snap backwards, an audible crack reverberating in the restaurant. Steve drops to the floor like a sack of potatoes. Lycaon takes a moment to brush himself off before turning around and walking up to you.
"Don't worry, my lady, he's not dead," he says, as if reading your mind as he gently takes your arm to lead you outside, "let's get you home."
The first thing Lycaon had done once the two of you had gotten home was start the shower for you. You have no idea how much time has passed since you stepped inside, letting the hot water fall on you as you silently cry. You should have listened to your gut when you realized Steve looked nothing like the photo your mother had sent you. That is the last time you let your mother play match maker. You felt awful that Lycaon had to basically come rescue you. There's no doubt your father is going to catch wind about what happened, especially considering the amount of damage Lycaon had caused in the restaurant.
You'll worry about that later. Right now, all you wanted to do was get cleaned up and go to sleep. You turn the shower off, pushing the shower curtain aside to step out, but you stop yourself. You find one of your bathrobes folded neatly on the counter next to the sink, but that's not all. A single red rose is placed on top of the folded robe. You carefully step out of the shower, approach the bathroom counter, gingerly pick up the rose and twirl it in your fingers slowly; the rose having been meticulously de-thorned.
Lycaon…?
Another spot of red in the corner of your eye catches your attention. Turning to look, you see that there is a trail of red rose petals on the floor that leads out of the bathroom. You take the robe and put it on, wrapping it around your nude body and tying it before you follow the trail of rose petals. Upon opening the bathroom door, you are once again stunned, too frozen in shock to move. The rose petals lead straight to your bed, the plush white comforter not only covered in petals, but with whole roses like the one you found in the bathroom; there's at least twenty of them, if not more.
You hesitantly walk towards your bed, your heart pounding in your chest. Did Lycaon do this? He must have, who else would have, you're the only two people in the house. But why? What does this mean? Your breaths are heavy, causing your chest to heave as you look down at your bed. You place your hand over your heart in an attempt to calm yourself. Surely, he's just trying to cheer you up after your horrific date. That must be it.
"My lady."
You suck in a breath at the sound of Lycaon's voice, slowly turning around to face him. Standing in the doorway, you immediately notice he's not wearing his signature vest, but just the white button up shirt he typically wears beneath the vest, the sleeves still rolled up to his elbows along with his black pants. The shirt is unbuttoned halfway, a tuft of fur spilling from his shirt. You feel your mouth hang slightly agape as your eyes run up and down Lycaon's form.
"If I had known you were going on a date with that… filth, I wouldn't have let you go."
He slowly approaches you, the sultry look in his eye erasing any doubts of his intentions; the sound of his mechanical legs walking across the floor echoing in your head as he approaches. You unconsciously take a step back away from him, the back of your legs hitting the foot of the bed.
"My liege," he whispers, the backs of his fingers gently caressing the side of your face, "there is no need to be alarmed. Unlike that disgusting drivel, I would never hurt you."
His fingers gently dance across your jaw line, moving downwards until he reaches your throat. You swallow hard as his fingers gingerly wrap around your neck, "that is unless… you want me to hurt you."
You watch his eye darken, a mischievous smirk forming on his lips as his fingers delicately squeeze the pulse points on your neck.
"Lycaon we… we shouldn't do this. If my father finds out--"
"To hell with your father," he growls, stepping closer to you, "I've seen how you look at me, my lady; the way your eyes linger on me when you think I'm not looking."
His hand moves from your throat, sliding down to rest onto your chest, right over your racing heart, "I know you want this as much as I do."
Your head is spinning, being pushed and pulled between all your complicated feelings. You do want this. As much as you want this, he's your butler under your family's employ, you know it's wrong. You hesitantly shake your head.
Lycaon lets out a low chuckle, leaning down to whisper in your ear, "I can smell your arousal, my lady. You should know more than anyone that you can't fool me."
Wrapping one of his arms around your waist, he tenderly coaxes you to lay back onto the bed, his muzzle buried into the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent as he cages you with his body. His hands grasp onto your thighs, gingerly spreading your legs apart so he can settle himself between them. You can feel him grazing his teeth along the side of your neck, to your jawline until his lips linger just in front of yours.
With a deep breath, you finally give in to your desires, kissing him deeply as your hands run up his chest. Your fingers find the buttons on his shirt and begin to unbutton them, his shirt falling open once you undo the last button. As your hands massage his chest, you can feel the toned muscle under his soft fur. Letting out a groan, Lycaon deepens your kiss, slipping his tongue into your mouth to dance with yours.
You feel like the kiss lasts an eternity and let out a soft whimper when he breaks the kiss. He lets out a low chuckle as he leans down, kissing your collar bone as he unties your robe, pushing off you. Once your body is exposed, he trails kisses between your breasts, over your stomach until you can feel his warm breath over your folds.
"From this moment on, I will be the only man touching you," he states, his gaze locked on yours has he runs his tongue through your folds before continuing, "if a man so much as breathes on you, I will snap him in half like a twig."
Between his ministrations on your cunt and his words, you're completely overwhelmed by pleasure, your eyes rolling into the back of your head as you lay your head against the mattress; your pussy walls fluttering around nothing. You hear another low chuckle from Lycaon.
"Oh? Do you like that, my liege? Do you like it when I protect you?" he asks with a playful tone.
He doesn't allow you to answer, however, because he immediately seals his lips around your throbbing clit, gingerly taking it between his teeth and caressing it with his tongue, reveling in the sound of the loud moans coming from you as he does so. You dig your heels into the bed as your hands grip the sheets. Your legs trembling, a strained cry comes out of you as you finally come undone on his tongue. Lycaon eagerly laps up your release.
"My lady, you're as succulent as the sweetest fruit," he says softly, licking your release from his lips as he begins to climb back on top of you.
He hooks both of his arms under your thighs, draping your legs onto his shoulders as he looms above you. Staring down at you longingly, he begins undoing the belt on his pants with one hand. Your eyes widen when he pulls out his member. It's massive, easily the biggest you've ever laid eyes on. You can't help but also notice the large knot at the base, causing your heart to flutter.
Is he going to fit?!
Leaning back on his haunches, he spits on your pussy, using his fingers to massage his saliva into your folds before leaning back on top of you. You can feel his cock prod at your entrance, causing your heart to race in anxiety and anticipation.
"Tell me if it's too much, ok?" he whispers as he moves his hips forward.
You nod, sucking in a breath as you feel him penetrate you, his girth filling you up perfectly. As he begins to thrust, you watch his tail begin to wag back and forth, teasing a smile from you. His lips once again lock with yours, kissing you deeply as he fucks you with steady and even thrusts. Moaning softly into his kiss, you run your hands up his chest, then up the sides of his neck before settling on each side of his face, your hips moving in time with his.
He feels absolutely heavenly inside you, your walls squeezing his cock as it bullies its way deeper and deeper. He abruptly stops and pulls out, flipping you onto your stomach before lining his member back up with your throbbing cunt.
"I'm going to breed this beautiful pussy." he says, sheathing himself back inside you up to his knot, "fill you up with all my pups. Would you like that, my liege?"
He begins to thrust again, more aggressively this time. Each thrust forcing his knot into you, stretching you. You nod weakly as more moans spill out of you and before long, his knot is finally fully inside, creating a seal. It's a little painful at first, but that is quickly replaced by the intense pleasure coursing through your body as he pounds into you. Letting out a growl, he bites into your shoulder as his thrusts become sporadic.
You cry out is name, tears stinging the corners of your eyes as you claw the sheets with your fingers, your second orgasm barreling towards you. With one final thrust, he pushes himself as deep inside you as he can possibly go without hurting you, shooting his load straight into your womb, painting your insides white with his seed. Your whole body is trembling from your release, your walls squeezing him as his cock continues to throb inside you.
You feel Lycaon's tongue lap where he had bit into your shoulder before nuzzling your cheek with his, his powerful arms wrapping around you, "are you alight, my lady?"
You turn to him, kissing him on the cheek unable to get the huge smile off your face, "more than alight, Lycaon."
something permanent pt 13 ♡ yandere!leon kennedy x reader
nsfw (18+) - minors. i stg. do not interact or i will call the cops
reminder that this is a dark fic, if any of the following bothers/triggers you, do not read: yandere!leon kennedy, kidnapping, forced daddy kink, forced breeding, pregnancy, non/dubcon
in other words, dead dove: do not eat !!! u have been warned and u are responsible for ur own media consumption.
chapter index: pt. 1, pt. 2, pt. 3, pt. 4, pt. 5, pt. 6, pt. 7, pt. 8, pt. 9, pt. 10, pt. 11, pt. 12
'something permanent’: the spotify playlist
word count: 8k
description: it seems a little time apart did leon and darling some good. darling wonders if it's too good to be true.
tags/warnings: yandere!leon kennedy, fem/afab!reader, no use of (y/n), kidnapping, forced daddy kink, forced breeding, pregnancy, pet names (princess, angel, dolly, pup/puppy, etc.), angst, paranoia, some religious allegory, oral (f receiving), vaginal fingering, vaginal sex
a/n: note that i've moved the taglist to the bottom of the post to reduce clutter <3 anyway i'm honest to god so proud of this chapter like my heart is pounding right now just getting ready to post it. i'm really looking forward to hearing what everyone thinks and feels after this one, and i could go on about it, but i'll leave the author's note here for now ;w; pls enjoy <3
my masterlist ♡
my ao3 ♡
fic under the cut, thanks so much for reading and i hope u enjoy !!
It wasn't at all difficult for Leon to talk his way into some time off after what happened in San Francisco- - the D.S.O. owed him big time for the damages to his Ducati and his psyche, and with the nightmare of a cover-up they already had on their hands as a direct result of an incident like that occurring on U.S. soil, Leon was the last of the government's concerns. For once, that worked out in his favor.
Naturally, every spare second of time he now had was spent attached to you like a leech... often more literally than figuratively.
"F-Fucking Christ," Your jaw unhinged in a needy cry, hot tears leaking from your eyes which had been rolled far back in your lids for a while now, a length of time you couldn't possibly approximate if you tried.
Your arms were shaking with strain as you reached over your taut, pregnant belly to claw at Leon's hair, yanking him closer, desperate to soothe that nagging ache of desire that had plagued you constantly as of late. He had one broad hand pinning your left thigh to the bed while the other alternated between gripping at your hip and smoothing over your bump.
Pulling away from your cunt to gasp for air, his lips rosy and swollen and gleaming with you, Leon's fingertips printed hard into your skin, but never enough to hurt. "God, look at you," He mused, trailing a line of wet kisses from the hood of your clit to the highest point of your round belly. "Really popped while I was gone..."
In the absence of his mouth, his calloused fingers sank deep into your hole, feeling absolutely no resistance with just how deliciously slippery you were.
Spreading your legs as far as he could with one hand otherwise occupied, Leon ground the heel of his palm against your engorged clit while pumping in and out of you, nipping at the plush, warm flesh of your tummy as he cooed, "Aren't you just a pretty little puppy mama, stuffed up nice and full with daddy's baby? Couldn't hide that gorgeous belly anymore if you tried, huh? Poor thing..."
Something changed between you and Leon following his return from California. Months ago, a statement like that from him would have made you start angry crying. You always used to hate it when he would rub your helplessness in your face just to break you down-- as most people would-- but now it held a certain kind of catharsis to just go along with it.
Maybe it was because his intentions felt different now, too. Given your pitiful track record, you didn't feel comfortable asking him what happened while he was gone, but you had gathered that something happened to shake him.
He was clingy to begin with, became even clingier when you got pregnant, and now he was tightening his grip again. Except this time, it didn't feel quite as aggressive or controlling as usual, it felt desperate. It felt fearful, but it also felt relieved, like kissing the tarmac after a particularly turbulent flight.
Worse yet, your demeanor toward him wasn't much different. At this point it didn't seem as though he knew about your outing, and for as sweet as he had been since the second he returned home, you were terrified that he could somehow find out and snap at any moment.
So, you threw everything you had into gaining his good favor, proving to him that you were a good, obedient pup who would never dare take advantage of his trust in you to do something so stupid and dangerous, and maybe then, if he were to find out, you could preemptively soften the blow. Maybe he would see that you had learned your lesson, that you corrected your behavior on your own and understood the error of your ways, that you understood the importance of following daddy's rules and had long since learned the hard way never to question him again.
It ate you alive a little bit to keep it from him, for fear that your failure to be honest with him might come back to bite you later, but you didn't feel particularly inclined to walk yourself into a punishment over a mistake you had absolutely no intention of ever repeating, either.
Your vision blurred white as his tongue slipped back down to flutter over your clit, his long, thick fingers reaching deep into your guts to untangle the delicate thread of your arousal. He was groaning in response to the flavor of your essence, the vibration sounding through your whole body and carrying electric pops of pleasure with it, your own wanton cries melting in with the chorus of wet noises that accompanied his devouring of you.
"Fuck, you're so fucking perfect," Leon panted into your folds before stooping forward to seal his lips over your bud once more, drinking you in with an obscene slurp. "My blushing, breeding bride..."
"Daddy," You cried out, voice light and airy with need as you rutted up toward his face and devolved into mindlessly repeating yourself, "Gonna cum, gonna cum, g-gonna cum..."
He chuckled, hooking his fingers inside you abruptly just to send your poor, dumb little puppy brain spinning out and to coax more of those precious noises from you. "Oh, are you?" He teased. "Are you gonna make a pretty little mess all over daddy's fingers, darlin'? Gonna give daddy something sweet to lick up?"
He hadn't even finished speaking and you were already nodding, the upward lilt of his tone being the only thing it took for your hazy brain to know you were being asked something, which naturally meant that whatever it was, the correct answer was yes. You weakly tried to grip at his hair again, only to draw an amused puff of laughter from him as he watched you struggle.
"Can't even reach over that bump now? Oh, poor princess... Looks like daddy bred you up too good, didn't I?"
Whimpering, you nodded, giving up your attempt to grasp at his hair in favor of the simpler option, allowing your shaking hand to rest over your swollen stomach as you came undone. Being seven months pregnant was no fucking joke, as you'd come to learn, and while you'd spent the bulk of your pregnancy so far obsessing over your discomfort with the physical changes, recently your self esteem had very much taken a backseat to all the other bullshit that came along with growing a baby.
Your boobs hurt. Your back hurt. Your hips hurt. You were waddling more than walking, you couldn't stop crying, you constantly wanted to fuck, and to top it all off, you were beginning to leak strange fluids from your vagina and your nipples on occasion. With everything you had going on, you couldn't possibly handle worrying about your appearance, too-- at least you could sleep at night knowing you never had to worry about giving Leon the ick.
Writhing and twitching as Leon dragged your orgasm out for as long as he could manage, the room was spinning around you, your jaw dropped in a high pitched cry of his title on repeat until you had no choice but to gasp a breath in. He continued to pump in and out of you down to the knuckles while he sipped from your cunt like a fountain, knowing you could take it-- or rather, that you would take it.
"One more f'me, doll?"
A deep, guttural shiver tore through you. It didn't matter whether you were to agree or not, because you knew it wasn't really a question anyway, so you didn't bother giving him a clear answer. You just clawed at the sheets and tried to prepare for what he decided to give you.
His denim eyes darkened, pupils swallowing up much of the familiar color as he zeroed back in on your dripping sex with fierce determination. Locking his arm around your thigh, he dragged you down the bed until you were pressed flush against his face, the bridge of his nose bumping against your puffy, sensitive clit with the motion. The veins in his bicep rose beneath his skin as his muscles tightened to pin you firmly in place, and then he took off like a wind-up toy car.
It was like you were watching him surrender control to something other than himself in real time. The fire alarm could have started going off right in that moment and you figured he wouldn't have even flinched, at least not until he'd had his fill of you, not until he'd delivered upon that promise to work just one more from your poor little body.
"You're always dripping wet when you're being good, baby," He praised, licking his lips salaciously at the taste of you on his tongue as he continued lazily pumping his fingers in and out of your drooling cunt. "I bet you were so horny without daddy around to keep you sated..." Leon unexpectedly withdrew his fingers, admiring how they gleamed with your juices before bringing them up to smear a stripe across the mound of your full stomach.
But the digits returned almost as quickly as they were withdrawn, stretching you open with a third and sucking your clit up into his mouth simultaneously, silky tongue catching every last little drop of arousal that dared to leak out of you.
Leon groaned softly, his cock twitching eagerly in his boxers. The sight of you squirming on the bed with a puffy bellyful of puppies that he put in you was almost enough to drive him wild-- knowing that he was the only source of relief from your raging lust was enough to drive him insane and then some, fueling his obsession limitlessly.
"Just beg nice and pretty for daddy, baby. Beg for me to stuff you up with babies so you don't feel alone." He instructed firmly, two fingertips taking an aching pace at your clit as he spoke.
You didn't usually like giving Leon any wins. It just wasn't your style... or at least it didn't used to be.
But you did anyway. You writhed and convulsed and shattered practically on command, your vibrating thighs attempting to stick shut around his head as the noises that fell from you melted down into mindless babbles, and unabashed begging. Before that mission, he would have moved to stop your thighs from shutting him out, but not now. Not since everything changed.
A car door opened and shut, a set of keys jingled, the lock clicked, and you couldn’t move, just staring wide-eyed at the door from the base of the stairs as it swung open to reveal your captor, who froze at the sight of you, too.
His duffel bag dropped to the floor beside him, long forgotten in Leon’s mind as he feasted his eyes upon the image of you for the first time in over a month— or at least for the first time since his phone broke. He nearly fell to his knees with relief.
“Oh, puppy,” He sighed out, tears pricking at his tired eyes, overwhelmed with the insatiable need to feel you in his arms again. In just a few short strides he crossed the distance between you and embraced you so tightly, it was almost crushing.
Euphoria, pure and uncut, a high unachievable in this universe by any other means. That was the only way Leon could think of to describe what he felt in that moment.
Pulling back to look at you, he cupped your jaw with one hand while the other pushed its way up beneath your shirt, finally feeling the soft, round warmth of your bump under his hand again, and he almost could have sworn he felt a little kick. He was beaming now, vibrating with excitement, almost at a loss for words entirely.
Almost.
“My beautiful fucking wife,” He laughed, a single tear breaching the threshold of his eye to drip down over his reddened cheek. “You’ve grown so much…”
You couldn't argue with him there. It felt like you'd doubled in size since he last saw you, your ripening belly putting every shirt in the house to the test over the several weeks he'd been away, and you weren't even done cooking yet. Not nearly.
Now he really did fall to his knees, and Leon's hands came forward to tug your shirt up, baring your rounded middle to him. In no time at all, his lips were scattering across the smooth surface of your skin like delicate rain, his warm hands cradling either side of your stomach as he hoped to himself that he might feel his child kick again, that he might feel them squirm. His lids fell shut as though he were in a dream, or maybe he was reminding himself that he wasn't.
The entire time you felt like you were holding your breath. You didn't know what to say. You didn't even know how to feel. You couldn't tell if you were going to throw up from relief, or from fear. Maybe from guilt? Regret?
Or was it just from the root of his progeny in you? You just didn't know, and as the minutes melted away from you, it all began to collapse into itself until your skull became an echo chamber of blaring alarms and racing thoughts and... and...
"Daddy, I m-missed you," You choked out, one hand coming down to thread into his hair while the other raised up to your mouth, quieting your cries. You weren't even sure if you were just saying that as a defense mechanism, or if you actually meant it, and you couldn't even bring yourself to care. Maybe you did mean it, if only a little. "I-It was so quiet, it was so quiet..."
"I know, I know, I'm sorry," He spoke against your taut skin, locking his arms around your hips to tug you even closer, his cheek squished up against you. He was well over a week out from his last shave, the gruff shadow on his face tickling you as he continued, "I don't ever wanna have to leave you like that again, baby. Never ever. I'm so sorry--"
"W-What if you didn't come back?" You cut him off, bottom lip wobbling, "How long was I supposed to wait? What was I supposed to do?"
He shook his head at this and cut you off firmly, determined to nip that line of thinking in the bud. "Don't say things like that. It didn't happen that way and it's never going to, do you hear me?"
"W-What even happened?"
"Do you hear me, puppy?"
For a moment, you hesitated. Wasn't the whole issue with his job that he had absolutely no power? That there wasn't an assignment he could turn down, or a day he could take off, or a report he could slack on, or an order he could defy? How could he say with any certainty that this wasn't going to happen again? That it might not be worse next time?
And why did you even care?
Weeping, you nodded. "I h-hear you. I hear you, daddy."
"Good," Leon's right hand rubbed measured, soothing circles along your belly, subconsciously mapping the feel of your gravidity beneath his palm. He would keep you just like this forever if he had the power to, heavy and radiant with his fruit, though he couldn't wait to meet the growing baby in there, either. It was a constant struggle of the mind. "I don't wanna miss one more second of this."
And as such, he wouldn't.
"Shit," Leon grumbled under his breath, standing aside to observe the shelf he'd just hung on the wall before turning over his shoulder to gauge your opinion; "Does that look level to you?"
Humming in thought, you took a step back to get a better perspective. Now able to compare the little white shelf with the rest of the nursery decorations on the pale, lemonade colored wall, it became quite evident why he was concerned-- it might as well have been diagonal.
"It's pretty skewed to the left, babe," You answered him honestly, one hand perched to support the small of your aching back while the other rested atop your belly.
Narrowing his eyes in concentration, Leon joined you where you were so he could look at it from your angle, and yeah, it was pretty fucking off. With an exasperated puff of laughter at his own expense, Leon shook his head and approached the wall again to start taking the screws out. "Well, I guess it's a good thing I didn't go into carpentry."
You laughed too, because he was right. Every last one of those little wall decorations had been a headache to put up, and the furniture was another thing entirely. Just days ago you spent an entire afternoon watching him lose his mind over the incoherent instructions included with the crib you'd begged him to order, hence why it took him half the week to cool off enough to deal with the shelving.
"Well, if you would just let me try..."
But he was already shaking his head 'no' before you made it more than three words through that sentence. He gave you an affectionate look of disapproval before reminding you, "Nope, no way. Pretty puppies don't get to play with sharp tools and heavy things."
You poked your tongue out at him playfully, he poked his right back out at you, and then returned his attention to the task at hand.
With your input, Leon adjusted the shelf and stepped back to observe it again, nodding in satisfaction only once you did too. "Happy with that?"
"Maybe," You grinned, "Can I put the stuff up there?"
Leon raised a brow, "You think you're tall enough to reach?"
"Probably not... but you could lift me?"
He softened at this. Leon would be a fool to pass you up on such an adorable request, although he couldn't help but give you a deep, playful sigh anyway as he opened his arms to you. "Alright, princess. Hop up."
You were all too giddy to do so, letting him lift you up by your hips to reach the shelving. One by one, he handed little trinkets off to you for proper placement, his muscles bulging against his shirt but not even shaking beneath your weight. It was equal parts sweet and a reminder of your weakness in comparison to him, which you felt quite numb to by now, for better or for worse.
Once you had both feet back on the floor, the afternoon melted away in the nursery. With your due date creeping up faster and faster, the preparation felt never-ending, like every time one thing got scratched off the list, another three were added. But in a weird way it was sort of nice-- it gave you both something to do, and whether or not it made sense, you actually worked quite seamlessly together.
Every onesie, every set of sheets, every furniture piece, every toy, every binky and bottle and blanket had to be washed and sanitized and then washed again, and put into place. If it didn't yet have a place, one had to be arranged for it. Every outlet had to be plugged with safety covers, every cabinet had to be childproofed, every sharp corner had to be padded. As expected, Leon was unwilling to take any risks, and you supposed you couldn't blame him. You didn't really want to take any either, knowing the remainder of your life was about to be judged by your ability to raise Leon's children.
What else were you supposed to do, though? Leon sucked, the kidnapping sucked, the IUD thing sucked, the pregnancy thing sucked, everything sucked. But unless the universe would decide to cut you a break by smiting Leon where he stood, your situation would remain unchanged for the foreseeable future, and you just had to deal with it. Like it or not, you nailed that coffin shut when you came crawling back home that day.
And honestly, you still weren't entirely convinced he didn't know you tried to escape. He hadn't said a word about it, he hadn't even alluded to it, but it was still like you physically couldn't stop yourself from overanalyzing his every move just in case. At the same time, you were constantly filtering yourself, playing the perfect princess, strategizing your every word until you couldn't even remember how you felt before you started acting.
Sometimes you wondered if you even were acting anymore.
Times like now, as you relaxed in bed together at the end of the busy day, each of you propped up against the headboard and engaged in your own task. Leon was flipping through a book of baby names the size of an encyclopedia while you worked your way through the unnecessarily excruciating crossword puzzle in today's newspaper, your pen slipping into the next box over when a particularly strong kick to your organs caught you off guard.
You let out a barely audible oof, resisting the urge to roll your eyes as soon as the pain dulled-- the first several times you felt your baby moving in there felt like a horror movie, but now that you'd made it well into your third trimester, it was a sensation you'd become quite exasperated with. You weren't a monster, of course, and even you found it sort of cute after a while, just not while you were trying to relax... or focus.
Or not get kicked in the ribcage, which was most times.
"You okay?" Leon asked softly, reaching out to rest his hand on your bump.
"Yeah," You huffed, sitting up a bit to get more comfortable and hopefully soothe the unborn little one, your hand coming to squeeze his own in the process. "She's just training for her black belt or something."
It came out so easily you didn't even think about it, like discussing the weather. But your phrasing certainly didn't make it past Leon.
He froze, setting his book aside to look at you in complete bewilderment. "She?"
"What?"
"Did you just say she?"
Oh, yeah. Huh. Fuck.
For a moment you just stared at him blankly, unsure whether you were about to be in trouble, and his expression wasn't really giving you any pointers. Nervously, as you'd come to be conditioned by now, you just blurted out the truth, "Y-Yeah, I did."
Outwardly, you were frozen just as solid as he was, but inwardly, you were bracing yourself for nuclear fallout. After all, that's what you'd done that for in the first place, right? To irk him? To hurt him? To get under his skin?
But suddenly you were retroactively regretting that decision. Just as soon as you said it, you were silently drafting an apology, maybe even an excuse. Maybe you could tell him the doctor just said it without even asking. Maybe you could blame it on nothing more than a slip of the tongue-- you just wanted a girl so bad that you must have said it without meaning to... but not even Leon would believe that.
Right as you were drawing in a breath to respond, Leon spoke first. His gaze was intense with emotion, tipping your chin up so he could meet your eyes and ensure you got a good sense of his elation. "Pretty puppy, are you serious? We're having a daughter?"
You were glad he forced you to look into his eyes, because what you found there was unexpectedly disarming. It wasn't rage, or betrayal, or authority, like you'd been preparing yourself for. It was vulnerable and adoring, hopeful, like the only reason he even asked was out of fear that the answer might be no, and any expressed excitement would be for nothing.
"Yeah," The tension in your posture dissolved, "We're having a daughter."
A broad smile set in across his face, his eyes welling with tears as he regarded you with both hands on your belly. Shortly thereafter, you were both surprised by the distinct feeling of your unborn daughter landing a kick beneath his palm, and that really did him in. Leon was all but weeping now, lavishing your baby bump in smooches and happy tears.
Leon genuinely didn't go into this with a preference on the sex of his first born. He wasn't concerned about 'male heirs' or any of that other macho bullshit. He just wanted his darling wife, and a whole brood of healthy, happy babies. Knowing now that the seed he'd planted and nurtured so lovingly in your womb was growing into a girl, a beautiful baby girl, he felt like he'd just had the wind knocked out of him in the most incredible way.
A daughter. You were giving him another beautiful angel just like yourself to protect and adore. Christ, he was so overjoyed that he didn't even entertain the idea of asking you why you didn't tell him until now, because he didn't care. He should have been there in the first place instead of letting himself get infected like an idiot, instead of rotting away on the cell block floor at Alcatraz while you were all by yourself learning the sex of your baby. His baby.
What a fucking let down, He thought to himself. What a complete and utter fucking let down.
Nearly a year he'd spent trying to convince you he would always be there to hold your hand, that he would take care of anything and everything for you, especially as far as supporting your pregnancy was concerned, and he failed you. You went into this scared to death of him and becoming a mother, yet you placed all of your trust on his promise to ease your burdens, and he failed you.
You trusted him, and he failed you. His darling little puppy mama, his beloved wife. He could hardly breathe.
"Y-You shouldn't have been alone," He choked out, lips brushing over the surface of your skin. "My two sweet princesses... I'm so sorry. I-I can barely even think about it."
Of all the emotions you expected from him in this moment, remorse certainly wasn't high on the list. You couldn't do anything but just watch him at first, stunned, and briefly wondering if he was testing you. But there was no way, right? Leon didn't strike you as the type to be able to cry on command-- he barely even cried when he needed to. Maybe you should just accept the win of getting anything resembling an apology from him.
You swallowed that paranoia back, having convinced yourself enough to relax for now. Threading your fingers through his hair, noting silently to yourself that he was probably overdue for a cut after his last mission, you attempted to soothe him with his own reassurances to you, "Don't think like that, okay? You're here now, we're all safe, and it's never going to happen again. That's what matters."
He knew you were only saying that to make him feel better, but it melted his heart just as much that you were trying at all. Not long ago, you would have been content to just watch him hate himself. You might have even thought he deserved to.
And you did, of course, just not for this. He had a lot of things to be sorry about, and his scary government job that he had no control over just wasn't one of them. Over the months you'd managed to gather that Leon dealt with a lot of guilt around the people he couldn't save, and probably also the people he'd been forced to hurt. Even if it wasn't technically a direct result of his occupation, you were beginning to realize that what he'd done to you wasn't exempt from that laundry list of regrettable life choices.
What you felt toward him these days wasn't exactly sympathy... but it wasn't exactly not sympathy. The lines blurred more and more every day, and the further your pregnancy progressed, the less capacity you had to be distraught about it all the time. You had bigger things to worry about, obviously.
Things Leon would rather worry about too, as you were reminded by the heavy thud of that book tumbling from the bed, propelled by the shifting of the covers.
Leon crawled atop you, knees perched at either side of your hips on the mattress. Slowly, he slipped his fingers beneath the hem of your nightshirt to draw it up and over your shoulders, laying bare to him all but what lay beneath your panties, and without incident, to boot.
As you'd come to expect by now, he was pressing feather-light kisses all along the rounded surface of your stomach at the first opportunity. Reaching forward to take your chin between his thumb and forefinger, always careful to ensure he had your full attention, Leon whispered, "Do you like the way your belly looks, sweetheart?"
Not really, was your immediate thought, but right after that, it was, well... I don't know. Do I?
Your heart clenched in your chest as you stared down at his hands roaming the swollen surface of your baby bump, committing every square inch to textile memory by feeling along the curve of it, by brushing his lips over the feathery stretch marks that had bloomed there in his absence. To say you didn't like it would be a complete and total understatement, but with Leon scrutinizing your every move in an effort to gauge your emotions, you were having a terribly difficult time finding the right words to speak.
Finally, you admitted, "Depends on the day."
Which was true. It tasted bitter on your tongue to give him the satisfaction of even insinuating you enjoyed this, but there were times in which you would gaze at your reflection and pretend to be someone else, and in that removed context, you found the woman in the mirror to be quite the cute little pregnant lady-- but Leon didn't need to know all that.
"It'll be okay," He promised, resting his chin atop your bump and breathing in deep, entranced by the heavenly scent of motherhood that clung to you now. "Before long you'll come to love how beautiful you look with daddy's baby in you."
Stroking gently down your sides, unable to ignore just how obvious it'd become that your breasts and the dips of your waist had filled out with the evidence of his claim over you, Leon's cock was starting to tent up in his boxers. He couldn't get enough of you if he tried, even if you didn't want anything to do with yourself. He would take you all, over and over again, let every rejected piece of you flow over him until his cup runneth over.
Meanwhile, you were wondering to yourself what 'before long' even meant to him. You were already 30 weeks pregnant and barreling toward your due date. It's not like there was long left for you to come to love it-- most of the time you didn't even like it.
But the sex was so good. That, even you couldn't deny you'd come to love.
"Daaaaddyyy," You whined, long and drawn out as the throbbing head of him pushed past your sodden hole, tunneling deep into you with a low groan from the throbbing core of his chest.
He could barely keep his eyes open, right hand gripping the meat of your thigh to pin you open while the left steadied you at the hip, and the sounds you made were nothing short of heaven to him. The wet suction of you pulsing around him, the incoherent whining and weeping that knocked from your plush lips with every inch you took.
"You're so damn eager to get fucked aren't you? Poor thing," Leon coaxed you cruelly, even as he could hardly get a breath in himself. There were certainly worse things in the world than having a dedicated partner so keen on servicing you; his possessive nature coupled with your hormonal neediness had turned this unwilling partnership into something undeniably effective and powerful.
As soon as he was sure you were comfortable, his thrusts picked up pace steadily, and as usual, he couldn't help the way his hand crept up from your hip to your rounded tummy. You looked perfect like this, absolutely perfect, down to the molecule. Such a proper little puppy bearer you were, almost to term with your first litter yet already crying out for more, your swollen tits bouncing, your nails biting into his skin and your eyes rolling back in your head, your pretty pussy clenching around his shaft at half the pace of your beating heart. It was an image he wished he could frame, an image of you that only existed in his mind's eye until now.
"Such a pretty, pretty princess," He mused, bringing his hand away from your belly only to swipe his hair back from his sweat-slicked forehead, and then it was promptly returned to its place with a gentle pat to gather your attention there, to just how big you'd gotten. Every rigid inch of him set your insides on fire, feeding a white hot pit in your core that smoldered through your blood and seeped all the way up to your shrinking little brain like rot. Like an infection.
"D-Don't stop," Your words came out in breathy, stunted, braindead mewls, oh, so fucking braindead. Poor puppy, you were so focused on pleading for him not to stop, you didn't even realize you were cumming already, convulsing, sobbing, cunt sucking his cock in so nice and deep that daring to remove it might as well be considered sacrilege.
And it was to him. Oh, God was it sacrilege to deny you the pleasure you so deserved. Everything he did was for you, for the privilege of spreading you out upon your altar and feeling your holy body accept him, beckon him, cleanse him.
"I'm here, darlin'..." He prayed to you, "I'm right here."
"I fucking knew it. I knew you were guilty as sin," Leon scoffed, tossing his cards on the table in exasperation. Bulging arms crossed over his chest, he shook his head and added, "Colonel Mustard, you conniving piece of shit."
Your lips parted with a nervous laugh, followed by a slow, discreet exhale to steady your heart again, only when he wasn't looking, of course. Hearing him say things like that just set your fucking teeth on edge, but even with the little spike of anxiety he caused, you had to admit to yourself that it was a bit funny.
Gathering up the cards on the table, you flashed him a playful smile and asked, "Did you wanna play again?"
You only looked up from shuffling the deck when you realized he was taking longer than expected to respond. Chillingly, that's when you noticed he was just studying you with an expression of neutrality that gave away nothing about what he was thinking. That rarely ever meant anything good for you.
Naturally, Leon didn't miss the way your pupils narrowed to pinholes in alert beneath his scrutiny. Perhaps in an attempt to disarm you, he cleared his throat and relaxed, reaching forward to help you reset the game board. Instead of answering your question, however, he asked you one instead.
"Something on your mind?"
"No," You replied quickly, "Why?"
His eyes narrowed just a teeny tiny bit, barely even recognizable if you weren't looking right at him, if you didn't know him well enough by now. Or did he narrow his eyes? Were you just imagining things?
"You seem jumpy."
Shit. Shit. Shit.
Immediately, you began to beat yourself to hell for letting your guard down. As far as you knew, you were doing so well. He hadn't suspected a thing for so long, and of course you had to go ahead and fuck it all up for yourself over a game of Clue.
Taking a shaky drink of water, you swallowed nervously before responding, "Oh. I'm sorry."
And now his eyes were going a bit narrow. When it came to you, a non-answer like that was a pretty solid indicator that you were hiding something, but Leon was beginning to learn that he couldn't scare you off too early with the interrogating-- he needed to take more of a delicate approach if he wanted to get anywhere with you, especially if he wanted to get anywhere with you willingly.
With a fond, gentle tone and a relaxed posture that he hoped would encourage you to open up, Leon asked, "Sorry for what, pup?"
Again, your vocabulary, your tongue, your lungs, and your brain were failing you in succession, taking turns lighting up your poor, exhausted neurons like an overloaded switchboard. He sounded sincere, he looked sincere, but... But it's Leon, you still managed to think to yourself, and your heart squeezed tight with every other syllable. Then, somewhere in there, you thought, But... it's Leon. And now you really didn't know what to do.
He had been so kind to you lately. Even you had to admit to yourself that a lot of your hesitation to trust him in the month since he returned was just the product of your own overthinking. You couldn't come up with a single thing he'd done or said to you since he'd been back that would give you any incentive to lie to him. In fact, all that came to mind only proved the opposite.
He'd been remarkably consistent with rewarding your newfound honesty, even if it wasn't always exactly the kind of honesty he hoped to hear. The fact that you even made the effort at all was proof enough to Leon that you cared to consider his rules, and the fact that you were honest with him even when you knew you might get in trouble meant you trusted him to help you.
Admit it or not, like it or not, you cared. You trusted him. Your hesitation to answer-- which, to note, was making him sick with anticipation-- proved your inclination for obedience in its own way. Those were sentiments he had to remind himself of as he continued his effort to navigate a conversation despite you not giving him much to work with yet. You were certainly a tough nut to crack, but he'd never felt so motivated to accept the challenge.
Taking your dainty little hand in a reassuring squeeze, he cooed, "My sweet baby... It's okay. Daddy won't ever be mad at you for telling the truth, you know that, right?"
Oh dear God, he's laying it on thick.
Your bottom lip quivered as you tried to swallow back the lump beginning to take root in your throat, only to find you could barely even swallow around it. For four weeks he'd been nothing but sweet to you, clearly putting forth a concerted effort to make up for all the attention you should have been getting while he was gone. For four weeks he'd taken the care to alter his own habits and behavior just to prove that you could trust him to adore and support you through anything, and not just you, but your unborn daughter.
And yet, for four weeks, you'd been lying to him.
All at once you were hit with a sickening pang of guilt that gripped at the centermost part of your gut and twisted it tight. That kindness you'd been enjoying so much was entirely unearned, and the longer you avoided confessing, the more you were taking advantage of him and his belief in you.
"D-Daddy, I have to tell you something," You spewed, and it was only once you heard the pathetic wobble of your own voice that you realized you were weeping already.
Truthfully, Leon was caught off guard. He always prepared for some degree of pushback from you, but this wasn't pushback. You were having a meltdown. Thankfully, he had quite a lot of experience with your meltdowns by now, and he had learned all the best places to start trying to pull you back from them.
So he quickly entered coddling mode.
"Okay, okay, shh, you're alright," He soothed, standing from his chair to kneel beside yours. One hand on your knee and the other still squeezing your own, Leon looked you in the eye as he continued, "You're okay, baby, you're not in trouble. Whatever it is, we can handle it. I'm just glad you're being honest with me now, right?"
In your distress, you didn't really pay attention, but had you been as vigilant as you usually were, you might have noticed how strategically selected his every word was in the interest of encouraging you to spit it out without making you feel pressured. Whatever he was doing was working, because you were soaking it up and nodding along like a bobblehead, even trying to match your shuddering breaths to the pace of his own to calm yourself down, just like he'd taught you.
Just like a good girl would. And all good behavior was worthy of daddy's praise, yeah?
"There you go, there's my good girl. You're alright, see? Daddy's right here with you, and I'm not going anywhere. Just take your time." But you'd already taken a month. You should have told him the second he walked through the door that day and saved you both the grief, but you didn't, and for that, you didn't deserve his kindness, you didn't deserve his good graces, you deserved whatever he would have coming to you. All that progress you'd made in controlling your breathing was shattered in an instant, your chest puffing with every sharp, ragged gasp for air.
You had to tell him. You should have already told him, and that was no one's fault but your own. Every moment that you continued to hesitate only made you a worse liar. You had to tell him and you had to tell him right now. Right now, right now, right now, right--
"I--"
Everything stopped. For one dreadful moment that you had no idea would be your most recent memory of comfort for the next several hours, everything stopped.
And then it all started up again. One second you were about to spill your guts about what you did, finally finding the breath to speak, and the next second that very same breath was punched from your lungs by a staggering pain that spread quickly from the root of you and smashed everything it touched to bits. As soon as you were finished choking on thin air, any and all thought about your impending confession was seared out of your brain-- you could only scream.
Leon went wide-eyed in an instant, clutching your hand and standing to his feet to quickly assess you. He was choking on air too, for once joining you in a momentary inability to speak, purely out of shock and confusion. Your eyes screwed shut and you were curling into yourself in clear agony-- whatever you were about to tell him didn't matter to him either, now. You weren't faking this.
Taking your face in both hands, trying to get you to look at him, Leon did his best to conceal just how much he was panicking on the inside. He had to be strong for you, he had to be strong for your daughter.
"Sweetheart, hey, you need to breathe," He spoke calmly, but quickly, smoothing your hair back so he could get a good look at you. "Can you tell me what's going on? What hurts?"
"E-Everything," You gasped, and he was trying to come up with a nice way to ask you to be more specific when you continued. "M-My back, my hips, everything..."
You were only able to get a couple breaths in before it happened again, this time with a mounting feeling of pressure taking over your entire lower half. It felt like you were going to pop from the inside if it continued any longer, like your hips were just going to crack and split apart, and it was only then that you realized what this could mean. Little did you know, Leon was connecting the dots too.
"Okay, pup, I need you to listen to me--"
"D-Daddy, this can't... t-this can't be happening, this can't be happening, it's too early!" You wailed, taking two fistfuls of his shirt and yanking with all your strength, like you were clawing at him for a solution, teary, fearful, stinging eyes pleading for your daddy to make it all go away. It ground his heart down into a fine, fine dust.
Especially because you were right to be distraught. It was too early, your due date was still eight weeks away, and he wasn't prepared for this to happen any more than you were. But he couldn't let it show.
"Listen to me," He interjected, his tone firm, but not callous. "I know it hurts, princess, and I know you're scared. I'm scared too, but we're gonna get you taken care of, okay? Right now, I just need you to breathe for me."
You nodded, hanging off of his every word in search of guidance, relief, something to hold onto. Staring into each other's eyes, he lead you through your breathing, thumbs tenderly caressing the tears away from your cheeks as they fell. It was like the room was vibrating with you. The few cycles it took to help you to get a handle on your breathing felt like an eternity, but he wouldn't dare proceed until he was sure you were getting some oxygen to manage the pain.
And, truthfully, he needed to think over exactly what to do. Whether or not you were actually going into labor like you both feared, it was abundantly clear that you needed medical attention-- thanks to his neurotic preparedness, there was already a 'go' bag stocked and ready in the nursery, but that meant he would have to leave you on your own for a minute to go get it. In your condition, he wasn't worried you would try anything if left unattended, he just couldn't stand the thought of you in such agonizing pain without him there to hold your hand.
Unfortunately, it was necessary.
"I need to run upstairs and grab your bag really quick, and then we'll get you in the car, okay? Just sit tight for a second, and keep breathing for me."
He didn't wait for you to answer, because he didn't want to give himself the chance to keep hesitating. As soon as he finished speaking he turned on his heel and rushed off. Enough time had burned away already, time you could have spent in the hospital getting the help you needed.
While Leon was upstairs, you were writhing in your chair at the table, one hand grasping at the edge of it as the other clutched weakly at your belly. Somehow you were actually managing to maintain the pace he'd set for your breathing, if only because that was the one thing you could stand to focus on while terrified and crying by the unwavering pain.
It only felt like you blinked twice before he was pounding down the stairs, diaper bag stuffed to capacity with supplies and slung over his shoulder. Scooping you up into his arms, he quickly moved to cross the house and get you to the car, the distance between your seat at the dining table and the front door feeling like lightyears... especially when you wrenched your arms around him tightly, planted your slick forehead against his chest and screamed, a gush of watery, reddish liquid spilling out from between your legs and dribbling down the front of his jeans.
That piece of evidence, neither one of you could deny. Ready or not, at just 32 weeks, you were going into labor.
Summary: It's early in the morning of the day that the Midnight Rangers are set to confront the Threnodian threat along side the mysterious Rover. You awake to find your lover restless and you are determined to ease his troubled thoughts.
Word Count: 1.3k
Pairing: Jiyan x fem!reader (afab)
Disclaimer: This story is a work of fiction. You are responsible for your own content consumption. If any of the following warnings trigger you, please read at your own risk. Minors do not interact, this story is 18+ only.
Warnings: mostly fluff, very mild angst, unprotected p in v, creampie
A/N: To say I've been addicted to Wuthering Waves is an understatement. Jiyan has lived rent free in my head since I started the game. I need this man in a way that is concerning to feminism.
And before anyone says anything, yes, I am well aware that Jiyan is not a dragon; it is just incredibly sexy to call him a dragon. Don't at me 🤣
It is the chill of the room that wakes you, realizing you are not wrapped in the embrace of your lover. Your eyes flutter open, the room is dark still, the shades drawn closed to keep out prying eyes. Even so, from behind them, you can see the first signs of the early morning, much to your dismay. You sit up, your eyes scanning the dark room until they settle on the figure sitting at the end of the bed, his hands resting on his thighs, his luscious teal hair disheveled from sleep.
You slowly sit up, leaning over to the bedside table to grab the brush sitting on it. You shift yourself so that you're behind him. With the brush in hand, you begin to comb out the general's hair.
"What's the matter, Jiyan?" you ask, the concern evident in your voice as you continue to brush out his hair, your eyes scanning over the toned muscle of his back, "you're really tense."
"The Retroact Rain will start rising soon," Jiyan replies, rolling his right shoulder, "and when it does, I have to be ready."
You let out a deep sigh, now putting Jiyan's hair up in his signature pony tail, giving you a clear view of the Tacet Mark that runs down his spine. You reach for it, gently dragging your fingers tips down the mark. This elicits a soft sigh from him and you can’t help but smile in response. You then lean forward, placing a soft kiss upon the mark.
Jiyan groans, turning towards you to capture your lips in a tender kiss. He brings his hand up, running his fingers through your hair.
"Are you trying to awaken the dragon, my love?" he asks, the pupils in his golden eyes dilating slightly as he pulls away from the kiss.
You bite your bottom lip, giving Jiyan a playful but knowing look, "perhaps I am…"
A low chuckle emanates from him as he turns his body towards you. You lay yourself back down on the bed as he climbs on top of you, caging you under his body. Your gaze travels down his chiseled form before settling on the noticeable bulge under his grey sweatpants.
"My eyes are up here, love," Jiyan says with a chuckle, gently grasping your chin between his index finger and thumb, coaxing your gaze back to his face, "we'll need to be quick."
His fingers hook into the hem of his sweatpants, quickly removing them as you remove your own pajamas, the two of you now completely nude. Jiyan wastes no time settling his hips between your spread legs. The head of his cock teases your soaked entrance, causing your breath to hitch. Grasping your hips in his hands, he sheathes himself into you with a single thrust. He lets out a low moan as he begins to move his hips, angling his hips so that his cock hits all the right places inside you, making you see stars.
Your fingers latch onto his back, your fingernails digging into his Tacet Mark inadvertently, eliciting a growl from him. His lips devour yours as he begins to pound into you, the head of his member kissing your cervix with each thrust. The heels of your feet dig into the bed as you cry out his name.
"I-I'm… I'm so close, Jiyan--!"
He lets out another chuckle, "oh, I know, love," he leans down to whisper in your ear, "your pretty pussy always flutters around my cock just before I send you into bliss."
That is the catalyst that sends you over the edge and your release gushes around him, pulling another chuckle out of him. He, however, is not finished with you. Looping his arms around your legs, he props them onto his shoulders as he practically folds you in half, strengthening his assault on your throbbing cunt. Overstimulated, tears run down the sides of your face as you cover your mouth with one of your hands, screaming into it as to prevent your cries from being heard by the entire Midnight Rangers camp.
Jiyan's thrusts start to become erratic as he chases his own release. He brings one of his hands up to cup the side of your face, carefully pulling your hand away from your mouth before saying softly, "where do you want me, love?"
"Inside," you plead, your breaths labored as you reach up, grasping the back of his head, "please, Jiyan…"
He smirks at you, his gold eyes boring into yours, "of course, love. I'll give you everything I have."
With a couple more powerful thrusts, he pushes himself inside you as deep as he can go, painting your pussy walls with his hot seed with a loud groan. Sealing his lips over yours, his tongue invades your mouth as his cock continues to throb inside you. You moan into his kiss, your tongue welcoming his as you drape your arms around his shoulders. Breaking away from the kiss, Jiyan rests his forehead against yours, his breaths labored as he comes down from his orgasm. You whimper softly, your body trembling beneath his in the aftermath of your own release.
Jiyan leans back down, giving you another tender kiss, which you happily reciprocate, his fingers combing through your hair as he deepens the kiss. An abrupt knock on the door shatters the blissful moment, causing you to jump; meanwhile, Jiyan lets out an irritated groan.
"General Jiyan!" a male voice calls out from the other side of the door, "your presence is needed, sir! Rover and Yangyang are on their way!"
He props himself up on his hands, slowly unsheathing himself from your warmth. You can feel his cum leak out from you, causing a smile to cross your lips. Jiyan smiles down at you, bringing his hand back up to caress your cheek.
"Do you mind helping me dress?" he asks, the sorrow clear in his golden gaze.
"Of course I don't mind, Jiyan."
Jiyan climbs off the bed and walks over to the closet while you pick up your pajamas off the floor, putting them back on. Meanwhile, Jiyan has begun to dress, putting on his leather pants, boots and the tight black leather tank top; you always loved how it perfectly accentuates his toned chest. The rest of his uniform is piled onto the bed; you pick up the beautiful fabric and help him get it on. It takes several minutes to get the robes of his uniform on, as there are several intricate pieces that have to be placed perfectly. Thankfully for you, this is not the first time you've helped Jiyan put his uniform on, and it certainly won't be your last.
Once he's dressed, you can't help but take a step back to marvel at him; you were always a sucker for a man in uniform. Another chuckle from Jiyan breaks you out of your daze, causing you to blush. Jiyan approaches you, placing his hands onto your hips before kissing you once more as you drape your arms onto his shoulders.
You break the kiss, letting out a soft sigh, "promise you'll come back to me, Jiyan."
"Not even the Threnodian can keep me from you, my love."
He plants one last kiss onto your forehead before turning away from you, walking up to grab his sword that is leaning up against the wall, sheathing it into his belt. He walks up to the door, which automatically slides open from his presence. He stops in the threshold, turning his head slightly to address you once more.
no listen you're onto something here because in my head, nanami is such wife guy. like if this man gives a fuck about anything, it is his significant other's wellbeing 🙏
like imagine you're sitting with him, kinda restless or squirmy, aching in the right and wrong places, and he notices of course. and once this man knows what the issue is, he knows what you need too and he intends to give it to you.
he pulls you onto his lap, and he's massaging your tits just how you need, firm but gentle at the same time. his mouth lays gentle kisses on your neck while he coos to you about how pent up and needy you are, but how he's gonna fix it all and take care of you.
that then comes in the form of him on top of you in a mating press. your legs over his shoulders, and him fucking into you as deep as he possibly can. he knows exactly what you need to hear too, how beautiful you're gonna look bred and swollen with his babies in your tummy, how good you're gonna feel belonging to him on the most primal level.
and he's going to do this until that ache within you is gone, until you're sleepy and dazed, and his cum is leaking from your cunt cause of just how many times he fucked you full <3
Summary: You sense there's something not right about Los Iluminados and you're determined to get to the bottom of it.
Word Count: 3.5k
Pairing: plagas!Leon Kennedy x fem!reader (afab)
Disclaimer: This story is a work of fiction. Actions depicted in this story are not condoned in real life. You are responsible for your own content consumption. If any of the following warnings trigger you, please read at your own risk. Minors do not interact, this story is 18+ only.
Warnings: drug abuse mention, abusive household mention, religious cult, religious trauma, body horror, noncon, dubcon, unprotected p in v, creampie, oral (m and f receiving), masturbation, kidnapping, yandere tendencies, somno, extreme violence and gore, human sacrifice, murder, blood play/kink, breeding kink, pregnancy, pet names, stockholm syndrome, DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT [More warnings may be added in future parts]
Your eyes slowly open to find the sun pouring into the window over by the head of the stairs. You let out a loud yawn as you sit up, stretching your arms over your head before swinging your feet over the side of the bed. Heading downstairs, you find Vince already up and making breakfast. You walk up and stand next to him.
“Anything I can help with?” you ask, leaning in to see what he’s making.
“Nah I’m good,” he replies, playfully shoving you away, “you must have been exhausted. You were already asleep when I got back to the house.”
“The jet lag finally caught up to me as soon as my head hit the pillow,” you explain as you sit at the table, “you spoke to Father Méndez I take it?”
“I did. Hopefully it helps. I don’t want you to feel unwelcome here. I know Leon is just doing his job but… you’re my sister. Making sure you’re comfortable here is my top priority.”
Vince finishes making breakfast, once again bringing two plates to the table before sitting across from me.
You speak up once more while you’re eating, “so, what’s on the agenda today?”
“I have to help out on the farm, that’s usually what I do most days. You’re more than welcome to join me, but if you don’t, I understand.”
You nod, thinking back to your time spent living with your grandparents. They had lived on a large farm and your grandfather made the two of you do almost all the upkeep. Your brother would take care of the livestock and farm maintenance while you would tend to the garden, it was brutal work for children. Regardless of the unpleasant memories, you weren’t about to sit back and let your brother do all the work.
“Sure, I’ll help out, just let me know what needs to be done.”
Within the hour, the two of you had made your way to the farm. It is a ways away from the village, requiring another short hike to get there. Once getting there, Vince is tasked with repairing some of the farm equipment while you helped feed and groom some of the livestock. You’re in the middle of wrangling up the pigs to feed them when out of the corner of your eye, you see someone approach your brother. You recognize the cargo pants and the tight fitting black athletic t-shirt immediately and that can only mean one thing:
It’s Leon.
You avert your eyes, bringing your focus back to pouring the feed into the trough, however, you steal quick glances at Leon and your brother as they speak to each other. Leon has short blonde hair and obviously takes very good care of himself; even you could see the way the sleeve of his t-shirt forms over his biceps.
“Hey Sis, come ‘ere!” Vince calls, beckoning you to join him with a motion of his hand.
You put down the bag of feed, silently cursing to yourself before walking over, standing close to your brother when you approach. Now that Leon isn’t wearing that black cloak he had on yesterday, you’re able to get a better look at him and, holy hell, were you not prepared. Leon is incredibly handsome, easily the most handsome man you have ever laid eyes on. You found yourself unconsciously squeezing your thighs together as your eyes rake over him; taking in the way the straps of his gun harness and various belts hug his thighs, how his pectoral muscles strain against that tight shirt. And, of course, those gorgeous blue eyes.
Oh no… you think to yourself, he’s hot…
“I apologize if I made you uncomfortable yesterday,” Leon begins as he holds his gloved hand; you don’t hesitate to shake it, “I’m Leon Kennedy; I’m in charge of making sure the community is a safe place for everyone.”
His voice is as smooth as whiskey, causing your heart to race in your chest as you tell him your name, “it’s very nice to meet you Leon.”
Leon gives you a half smile which makes your heart swoon; this man is way too attractive for his own good. He must realize it because he gives you a playful wink which, thankfully, your brother missed.
“Likewise,” Leon continues, giving your hand one more squeeze before letting go and looking to your brother “I also came over because Manuel just came in with a haul of fish from the lake, he needs help unloading the boat.”
“Of course, I’ll be right over,” Vince replies, setting down his tools.
“Is it alright if I come along?” you ask, shoving your hands in your pockets as you shift on your feet.
“Yeah of course,” Vince replies, “the dock isn’t far from here; I’d love for you to come see the lake.”
Just as your brother walks away to go to the dock, Leon gives you a pat on the side of your shoulder, giving you another playful wink as he whispers, “I’ll see you around, little bird.”
Your breath hitches in your throat as you watch Leon walk away. The nickname he had given you goes straight to your core, causing you to clench your hands as your fingers tingle.
“Sis, are you coming or not?” Vince calls out to you some ways away from the archway leading out of the farm.
“Sorry Vince! I’m coming!” you shout as you jog over to your brother, joining him as you both make your way to the lake.
By the time you two get to the dock, several other men from the village are also there helping Manuel unload the haul from his fishing trip. Vince quickly joins them as you stand at the head of the dock. As your eyes scan over the vast lake, the sights, sounds and smells once again take you back to your childhood. To the times when you and your brother would go down to a small pond that was on your grandparents’ property to have some semblance of fun. The sound of a door opening behind you causes you to draw your attention away from the lake.
You watch two men come out of what you can only assume is Manuel’s house carrying what appears to be a very large sack. Your gaze tracks them as they walk across the property, stopping at a cave opening that’s blocked off by a large gate. They stop at the gate as one of them goes to unlock the gate. You quickly realize that the large sack is moving violently. Once they get the gate open, they carry the sack inside, shutting and locking it behind them before disappearing into the darkness of the cave. You swallow hard as you draw your attention back to the lake, an uneasy feeling settling in your stomach.
Something is very wrong about this place and you feel whatever it is, it’s behind that gate.
“Will you be ok here at the house tonight?” Vince asks over dinner.
“Yeah, why?” you ask as you take a bite out of your meal.
“We have a community gathering tonight. It will likely go well into the night. I just want to make sure you’ll be ok here by yourself.”
You look up at Vince, raising an eyebrow, “I can’t come with you?”
Vince shakes his head, “not this time. This is for members of the Los Iluminados community only.”
This only serves to unsettle you even more, especially after seeing that large sack get brought into that cave earlier that day. Not wanting to upset your brother, however, you simply swallow hard and shrug it off.
“No problem, I’ll be fine, Vince.”
“Good, thank you Sis.”
Your brother leaves the house after cleaning up, leaving you alone in the house. You take that opportunity to go up to the bedroom, settling yourself onto the bed. As you lay there, your mind wanders back to Leon and you find yourself quickly becoming hot and bothered. Taking off your jeans so that you’re just in your shirt and underwear, your hand slips under the hem of your panties, your fingers gently rubbing your clit as you lay your head back against the pillow, closing your eyes. You picture Leon perfectly, imagining it is his fingers rubbing your clit, imagining his hot breath on your ear as he leans over you.
“That’s it, little bird. Doesn’t that feel good?”
A soft whimper escapes your lips as you hear the words your mind has conjured; who would have thought a silly nickname would get you so riled up. You pick up the pace of your fingers, your hips bucking up into your hand as you chase your release. You softly moan his name over and over as your pussy walls clench around nothing, secretly wishing he was buried inside you. You then move your fingers in a circular motion rapidly and within minutes you come undone, practically screaming Leon’s name as your body convulses. In the heat of the moment, your elbow crashes into the small bedside table, causing it to tip over, spilling the contents of a small drawer to spill all over the road.
The abrupt crash immediately snaps you out of your fantasy. You sit up in the bed and stand up, picking up the items that had fallen out of the bedside table. A crudely made leather bound book catches your attention; you sit down onto the side of the bed and open it. The text inside is handwritten and you quickly realize once you start reading it that it’s your brother’s journal. You know you shouldn’t be reading it, but a part of you is hoping that it reveals what exactly is going on in this community.
March? 2006
I’ve completely lost track of time since Josh and I were brought here. I found this notebook inside the building they brought us in, so I figured I’d use it to chronicle what’s been going on in case someone else finds it. It was Josh’s idea to go backpacking across Europe. I regret not telling my sister where I was going; she must be worried sick!
This group, called Los Iluminados, promised us a paradise on Earth. A place for us to disconnect from the world and detox and it doesn’t take a genius to know I definitely need that. They didn’t seem very bothered by the fact that Josh is my boyfriend despite being a religious group, so that was refreshing.
You stop reading for a moment, absorbing the information you just learned. Your brother is gay. It came as a complete shock to you, however upon looking back, it’s a wonder you hadn’t realized it sooner. It certainly explains why your grandfather was especially hard on Vince. Why didn’t he tell you? You can’t help but feel hurt by the fact your brother wasn’t comfortable enough telling you. You set aside these emotions for the time being and continue to read.
They injected both of us with something, said it would help us with the detox process. And then they brought us into the basement of one of the houses. It’s almost pitch black down here, the only indication of time passing is from the faint streaks of light coming down from the floorboards. It’s a miracle I can even see what I’m writing. I feel ok, but Josh on the other hand isn’t looking good at all. He’s broken out into a rash and he won’t stop sweating. He keeps saying everything hurts. What the fuck did they inject us with?
March… Maybe April? 2006
It’s been a few days since they first locked us into this basement. I keep coughing up blood and having weird dreams, but otherwise I don’t feel too bad. Josh on the other hand isn’t doing well at all, he’s been violently convulsing and hacking up way more blood than I have. I don’t think he’s going to make it.
April 2006
They came down into the basement and took Josh, he had gotten worse from when I had written earlier. They came back later and examined my eyes, saying my blood had accepted the gift, whatever that means. They led me out of the basement and gave me one of the houses. They say I’m part of the community now. I don’t know what happened to Josh.
There are no new entries in the journal after that. You’re completely overwhelmed with emotions, both from what you learned about your brother and the implications of what happened to his boyfriend Josh. All of this just further cemented the fact that you had to find out what lies beyond that gate you saw them bring that sack into.
After picking up the mess and tucking the journal safely back inside the bedside table, you go to bed where your mind enters the realm of dreams which have been invaded by thoughts of Leon.
The next morning, your brother informs you that the two of you will be going over to Father Méndez’s house to have dinner. The house itself is grandiose, we’re immediately greeted with the large dining room table already laid out with food and drinks. The dinner itself is largely uneventful, Father Méndez asks you a lot of questions about living in the United States and how you’re liking your stay with the community. As the dinner wears on, you realize that this is a golden opportunity to try to find some answers.
You abruptly stand up, “sorry I need to excuse myself for a moment. Where’s the bathroom, Father?”
Father Méndez motions to the archway over to the left, “through there, sweetheart.”
You smile at him and nod in acknowledgement, “thank you Father, if you excuse me…”
You walk through the archway, finding a set of stairs going up to the second floor of the house. You look over at the dinner table, waiting until Father Méndez is completely focused on your brother before silently ascending the stairs. At the top is another hallway. You carefully walk to the end of it, finding what you guess is the master bedroom, a large four poster bed immediately to your right, a dresser to the left and a small desk next to the window ahead of you.
You slowly walk up to the desk, which is covered in various papers that have words written in Spanish on them. You then open up one of the drawers and you suck in a breath at what you find. It’s an ornate key, embellished with the same weird cross symbol that you saw back at the church and, now that you think about it, the gate by the dock also had this same symbol. This key has to go to that gate, you’re sure of it. You softly close the drawer, tucking the key into your pocket.
“What are you doing in here?” you hear Father Méndez ask.
You jump as you turn around, placing your hand over your racing heart, “Father I’m so sorry! I got lost looking for the bathroom.”
He raises an eyebrow at you, but then smiles at you warmly, “that’s quite alright, I wasn’t clear in my direction. It’s downstairs, the door on the right just before the back door, follow me and I can show you.”
You allow Father Méndez to lead you to the bathroom, which is quite literally a hole in a raised part of the floor. The smell coming out of it almost knocks you out. Despite this, you spend a couple minutes in there to make it convincing before you return to the dinner table, all the while fiddling with the key in your pocket.
You and your brother finish up dinner with Father Méndez, getting back home just before it gets dark. You excuse yourself and go to bed early, claiming to be exhausted from socializing. You sit on the side of the bed, twirling the key you found in your fingers as you examine it as you listen for confirmation that your brother is asleep. It takes a couple hours, but you hear the telltale signs of your brother’s snoring. Getting up from the bed, you walk over to the window over by the stairs, carefully opening it and climbing out. It leads you outside on some crude scaffolding, you quickly find a ladder to climb down.
The waxing moon casts a gentle glow throughout the village, which you use to your advantage as you make your way to the dock area. You walk crouched, trying to use the environment to mask your movements, hoping to not draw anyone’s attention. You eventually make it to the gate, looking around before digging the key out of your pocket, putting it into the keyhole and turning. As you suspected, the key unlocks the gate with ease and you push on it gently, the gate letting out a soft squeak as it swings open. You shut the gate behind you, making your way inside the cave.
Once you get to the back of the cave, you come across another gate, pushing it open to find a furnished room filled with various root vegetables and supplies. Upon stepping in, you’re overwhelmed by the smell of decay, bringing your shirt up over your nose to mask the smell. It doesn’t take long for you to find the source. To your right, there is a person on their knees, held up by their wrists on a rope. You hesitantly approach, finding that it’s a young woman, her skin pitch black in decay and that weird cross symbol painted on her face with blood. You fight back the bile building up in your mouth.
“I fucking knew it,” you say to yourself, “this is a fucking cult.”
You take another look around, spotting a ladder leading upwards through the floor in the back. You hesitantly approach it and begin climbing up. As you ascend to the top, you are greeted by another horror; an altar with another young woman laid onto it, her blood completely covering it. You see her hands are tied behind her back. You walk around the altar to face her. She has that same symbol painted onto her face. Her skin still has color to it, suggesting that she hasn’t been dead for very long. You begin to suspect that this woman was in that sack that you saw carried into the cave.
“You shouldn’t be here,” you hear Father Méndez’s voice boom from behind you.
You spin around and face him, he’s standing straight with his hands neatly folded in front of him.
“What the hell kind of operation do you have here?!” you shout, balling your fists, “I knew something wasn’t right about this place. I’m taking my brother, we’re leaving and reporting you to the authorities!”
A low chuckle comes out of Father Méndez, “her blood did not accept the gift. You, however, may have better luck.”
Méndez brings one hand up, snapping his fingers. Suddenly, two men that had been standing behind you grab you by your arms, twisting them behind your back as you struggle as hard as you can. You watch as Father Méndez reaches into his coat pocket, producing a large hypodermic needle. As you struggle, Father Méndez begins to approach you. Your gaze shifts to the figure standing just behind him, seeing that Leon is standing there, watching, back to wearing that large black cloak, the hood mostly obscuring his face. All you can see is a menacing smirk that is on his lips.
“Sis calm down, it’s going to be ok!” you hear your brother, quickly realizing he is one of the men that is restraining you, “my blood accepted the gift, I’m certain yours will, too.”
“Vince!” you cry out, turning to him, “do you hear yourself? This is insane!”
Father Méndez looms in front of you, grabbing the side of your head and pushing it to expose your neck, wasting no time inserting the needle into your skin, injecting the strange liquid into your body. Whatever it is, it burns. You feel it spread across your neck as you continue to struggle, tears now flowing down your face.
“Bring her to the holding area,” Father Méndez commands.
Without any hesitation, your brother and the man helping to restrain you bring you back down through the hole you had come up out of, carrying you out of the cave as you kick and scream. They bring you to Manuel’s house, carrying you inside. In the back of the house, there is a trap door. The other man retraining you kicks the trap door open before he and your brother gently lower you inside. Once on the ground, you scramble to your feet and stare up at the opening, seeing your brother stare down at you, only, there’s something very off about him. Black veins cover his skin and his eyes are glowing red.
“Vince, you can’t do this! You need to get me out of here!”
“I’m sorry, Sis,” he says softly before slamming the trap door shut.
You stand there in utter shock as you hear the door being locked, trapping you in the pitch black darkness.
you're extra needy for your boyfriend and his dad bod when he comes home from a mission
cw: nsfw (18+), smut, p in v
a/n + tags: i'm nothing if not for the people. i'm not sure how i feel about this one, but hope i did it justice 🫡
@ovaryacted i hope you enjoy bb 🙏
“I missed you so much,” you whisper.
Nuzzling the space between the crook of Chris’s neck and his earlobe, you kiss his skin with a feather light touch.
“Missed you too, baby,” he grunts as he adjusts you on his lap.
You were always needy when Chris came back from missions. They had become fewer and farther between now that he was getting older, but when he did have to leave, he was always gone long enough to leave you yearning for him.
Kissing up to his cheekbone, your arms wrap around him to keep his body pressed against yours. The scruff of his facial hair scrapes the delicate skin of your jaw. He was so warm and soft right now, the feeling you’d been craving from his side of the bed for the past three weeks.
His hand finds the base of your neck and gives it a light massage. The rough pads of his fingers drag in little soothing circles. Your thighs slide around to land on either side of his legs. Now that you’re straddling him, you roll your hips down against the center of his lap.
“You’re so eager for me, pretty girl,” he murmurs, swiping his thumb across your jawline.
“Been thinking about you too much, every night you were gone,” you say softly.
“That so?” he whispers as his hands fall to your hips to guide their movements, “What kind of things did you think about, angel?”
You hum in a mixture of thought and pleasure. With his help, you have more friction between the two of you. Your movements are still slow and steady, working the sparks into a flame.
“Thought about your hands,” you say, looking down, “And your arms. Just wanted to feel you wrapped around me.”
As if to put action to your words, your palms land on his muscular biceps. Even with his age, his muscle mass didn’t deteriorate. You squeeze the thickness of his limbs and bite your lip.
“What else?” he prompts.
“Ummm… I don’t know. I just thought about all of you,” you say with a timid shrug.
“Nuh uh, princess. C’mon. Give me something more. What else were you dreaming about while I was away?” he asks as he pulls you even closer. His mouth drops to your neck to kiss and suck at the skin.
You pause and tilt your head back to give him some room. You’d been together for years, but when he came back from missions, you gained the shyness you possessed when the two of you first started dating. Everything about him was familiar and comforting, but after a bit of time apart, it still brought the thrill of something fresh.
It got Chris so riled up that he could still make you hesitate like this too. Initially, he’d been worried that as he aged and things got less toned and tight and more loose and soft, that you’d lose interest. The sweet heat of lust would cool and turn frigid. It hadn’t been an issue so far, and instances like this were more than enough proof. Every time the two of you got intimate, you ran like a faucet, soaking through more pairs of panties than he could count.
“I just-“ you start to answer his question before sucking in a sharp breath when he nips at your pulse point, “I just couldn’t stop thinking about you all over me. Your chest and your stomach. Your skin all hot, sweating against me.”
He smirks at the revelation and kisses your neck with more fervor.
“I miss you so much when you’re gone it makes me ache,” you say.
You felt that ache not only between your legs but all through your body. It radiated from between your rib cage and fizzled outwards to your arms. You felt it in the pit of your belly and the back of your throat.
Thinking about him just drove you wild as of late. He may have worried about you losing your attraction for him, but thoughts like that never even crossed your mind. If anything, you were crazier for him now. Everything about him revved you up, and the only way you could communicate that was physical.
You could see the ways his body was changing. The way he filled out his t-shirts more. How plush he felt when he hugged you. Everything about him was just big. It made you want to latch on and never let go.
“Let me get rid of that ache for you, doll,” he says and goes to flip you over.
You stop him by digging your knee into the mattress. He raises an eyebrow at the move.
Instead of responding with words, you gently push him back towards the mattress, asserting a bit of control that you rarely held in the bedroom. He’s interested though, and follows your touch. You're both gazing at each other with wanting eyes as his head lands on the duvet. You run your hands up and down his chest, watching the little creases your fingers make against his shirt.
“I just wanna show you how much I missed you. Recreate some of my thoughts,” you offer as an explanation.
“Let’s see it then, honey,” he grins.
Your first move is peeling off his shirt. You pull the fabric up over his head, and he helps to discard it completely, leaving himself exposed in a way that makes your mouth water. With him like this, you can see the body you loved the feel of. The hair that dusted his broad chest, the plump flesh that rested over the muscles beneath.
Without another thought, you lower your head. You start with his collar bone. Your lips flutter along it, coasting over the skin and leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. Then you move down to his chest. The kisses are tender but full of passion. You can feel the beat of his heart beneath your lips.
As you lavish the muscles with affection, your hands weave to his sides and grip the doughy flesh there until the skin goes pure white with pressure. He groans softly and you can feel his cock beginning to stiffen against your abdomen.
You move further down, your lips still working to express all the love you held for him. You only take a brief pause to nuzzle against his belly, taking in everything about him now that he’s home with you again. Your center throbs as his scent fills your nostrils and the fuzz of his happy trail brushes your cheek.
Going back to kisses, your mouth moves more now. Your lips open and close over his tummy. As desperate as the movements were, you still couldn’t get enough of him. You suckle some love bites near his navel and relish the breathy moan that leaves his lips.
“Fuck, sweetheart…” he mumbles, rubbing his hand over his face.
“I told you I missed you,” you whisper. Your breath chills his skin that was still slick with your saliva.
You then reach the top of his pants and hook your fingers over the rough fabric. You pull it down enough just to give you a better view of his v-line. Your mouth latches onto that area and litters the space with kisses just as you had done above.
Your fingers fumble with the button and zipper, leaving his bulge only covered by the thin cloth of boxers. You rub your face against that too like it’s a way of marking your territory.
He glances down at you and watches with love, but just as you’re pulling his cock out he grabs you under the arms and drags you back up to him.
“Not yet, precious. Now it’s my turn,” he says.
He rolls you on your back for real this time, not giving you any chance to stop him. Your shirt is gone just as quick as his was, and in a similar manner, his attention falls to your chest.
Squishing your breasts together, he licks and kisses all over them. He briefly sucks a nipple into his mouth before releasing it with a wet pop. You arch into his touch as whimpers fall from your lips. Your legs squirm beneath him. The quick and rough feeling of his lips and tongue fire up your nerves into overdrive.
“I’ve been missing these cute tits too. I’ve been missing them in my hands and my mouth,” he mutters while continuing to focus on making you writhe from that alone.
His fingers press against the plump flesh a few more times before gliding down over your sides to your bottoms. He unties the drawstring before pushing them South and letting you kick them all the way off.
He gropes your thighs, groaning at the soft flesh between his fingers before spreading them apart. You’re coated with arousal, thoroughly worked up and ready to take him. Guiding his tip towards your entrance, he gives it a few lazy strokes. You can feel the precum beading at the head as it presses against you.
It splits you apart when he pushes it in. The shaft is thick, veins sprawling across it. It slots between the tight embrace of your walls, causing you to whine. Your limbs tighten around him in tandem. Just like you had wanted, his skin was all over yours.
“Always so tight for me. Don’t think I’m gonna wanna pull out for a while,” he grunts.
“Mhm, need you inside. I've been empty for too long,” you whimper.
“Have you?” he chuckles as he starts to rock his hips, “None of your toys can fill you up the same way, huh?”
You shake your head quickly. It was the truth. Nothing could ever replace the blissful stretch that he gave. Nothing could satiate you but having his fat cock buried to the hilt.
“That’s right,” he breathes, “That’s my baby. Only I can fuck you how you need.”
Now you nod. Your nails dig into his back, reddening the skin as they drag down. His hips piston into you with more force. The thrusts weren’t too quick, but they were even and deep. You could feel him all the way in your tummy.
Your eyes roll back as you lock your legs around his waist, keeping him all the way in. He has to roll them and grind them into your heat. You’re too close for him to slip in and out. His tip brushes all the little pleasure spots he knew so well.
“Chris…” you mewl, “Harder, babe. Need it more.”
“I’m trying, sweetheart. You got me trapped as far as possible,” he says smugly, clearly pleased with how badly you wanted him.
He tightens his hold on your hips to a bruising grip and thrusts as deep as he physically can. His thick abdomen is caged between your thighs while his belly and chest presses against yours. Your skin glides against one another, sweat and breaths intermingling between the two of you.
The bedroom that had been quiet for weeks while he was gone was now filled with sound. Your noises have both turned primal, raw with carnal passion. The bed creaks as he works himself into you over and over. You cradle his head against your neck, just wanting to hear him lose himself in you.
He was getting closer. His hips were sputtering and his cheeks were tinting pink. Your breaths had turned gaspy, little whimpers pouring out in between them.
“You want me to finish inside?” he purrs, “I know you do. Think you been aching for my cum worse than anything else.”
“Yeah,” you moan, “Need it in me so bad. Please. Need all of you.”
That drives him to fuck you harder. He always wanted you to have everything you needed, and if you needed to be fucked full of his cum, he’d be damned if you went without. A low moan rumbles inside of you as his tip kisses your sweet spot over and over. He feels you tightening up and hums out a groan. The end is near for both of you. Just a few more euphoric thrusts and you both burst.
You explode into white hot pleasure. It glosses over the ache and seeps into it, changing the feeling to the core. Your head whips back and your cries come out loud and strained. You're locked around his body. His skin is hot and you can feel his pulse against you.
The next thing you feel is him shooting loads of his cum inside you. The sticky warm fluid paints your insides and makes you feel all warm and clingy. He fucks it nice and deep as per your request.
The noise has quieted down now, but the room still holds the comforting sound of both of you panting. He goes to pull out, but you shake your head and cling to him.
“Not yet,” you plead, giving him your best puppy eyes.
He chuckles and shakes his head, but of course he was going to indulge you. He carefully rolls over, keeping himself snug inside. Rubbing his hand up and down your back, he whispers to you.
“You’ve got it bad.”
“Shut up,” you huff.
You get comfy on top of him, nestling your head in its spot right in the center of his chest. His warmth surrounds you and it’s hard not to fall asleep right then and there. You melt on top of the softness of his body, letting the feeling sink in that he was home with you at least for the time being.
titsay
romaincrisis
yousharknotpass
snowghoul
kaledo-art
