This fic will be nsfw so mdni, by interacting you acknowledge there's content you may not wish to read.
Synopsis: In a world where the only connection they have to you is MC, the character you play as in the mobile game Love in Deepspace
The love interests break the fourth wall for a while with you in the game.
After you break your phone and go get a new one, the new one sucks you right into the game you just redownloaded and was getting ready to download the data for.
You try to get your head together but what happens when you're suddenly surrounded by 5 men who want you and will do anything to prove themselves to you.
CW: y/n usage, smut, pwp, possible mischaracterization, guns, drugs, fighting, pet names, Caleb is his own warning but we aren't related to him(no psedoscest), Caleb doesn't beat the stalking allegations,shadow sneak/necromancer type evol, voyeurism,cuck,exhibitionism, cheating, etc.(more to be added)
This chapter: language, suggestive content, mentions of cheating, panic attack and language.
Gender of reader: male
Tag list: @dishoneykisses @fairestofnrc
The whole thing will either come out in weeks or months and unfortunately I am unsure of which
The day started off relatively normal for y/n as he woke up around early morning, taking his time to get ready for the day ahead as he had work.
He started by taking a shower, then he went to eat before brushing his teeth and heading off to work; when he got to work before clocking in he checked on one of his favorite game he had 'Love In Deepspace' and despite being for a more straight audience, he enjoyed the story, combat, and mechanics overall.
When the game loaded up everything was seeming normal, until checking Sylus's pulse he looked like he was looking into his eyes, not MC's. Which was a little freaky but it was something he shrugged off before working.
When he got to his lunch break after eating he opened the game again, seeing Rafayel there this time though he had asked Rafayel exercise with him and just kinda watched the time go as he ate.
After the time was up and they got back to the end before the rewards banner shows up Rafayel said something different, it happened to be 'you checking me out while I'm working out cutie? I don't mind if it's you~' followed by a wink. Which to be fair, he was checking out Rafayel's chest and ass.
He did find it kinda weird that he said that but it wasn't too crazy, but was weirder when he thought about the sylus eye contact earlier. He didn't have much time to ponder before having to go back to work, so it slipped his mind completely.
But later that evening when it was time for him to go to bed and suggested the sleep feature Caleb was there, staring like sylus had but with a 'y/n, pleasant of you to join me, the feeling when you join me is unmatched'
He thought 'wouldn't MC sleep with him every night realistically, since the time lines are said to be separate and everything' but shrugged it off and went to bed soon after.
Over the next couple weeks weird things continued to happen even with Zayne and Xavier, though it was only ever eye contact with them unlike Caleb's full sentences that seemed meant for someone else, not MC. Rafayel was also flirting like crazy which probably wouldn't have been abnormal, but the way they were phrased, kinda like Caleb's sentences.
One day during work somehow his phone ended up where it shouldn't have and got busted; he was quite frustrated but luckily had enough money saved to be able to buy a new phone.
After work he went to the store he had his other phone plan with and got this phone that the shop owner was hyping up saying stuff like "it has amazing graphics for games", " it can take excellent pictures of the moon and stars", and "it can run forever on it's improved battery".
When he went home to set it up, it took about an hour so while Love and Deepspace was reinstalling data he cooked since he knew it would take quite a while.
After he finished eating and set the game up again, he went to bed but when he woke up he was surrounded by a house that wasn't his, a clock that was going off that he didn't have before, but what really freaked him out was that the phone didn't say his home location, it said 'Linkon city 65°f/18.33°C' (I'm sorry if this is incorrect)
Of course it was terrifying, what happened to his life before and what happens from here? He wouldn't know, but when he opened his phone his widget and Love and Deepspace was gone, which actually made sense but set off more alarm bells in his head.
It looked like they were in MC's house, but if he was here then where was mc?(this won't get answered as I'm not creative enough to figure it out) He didn't ponder before getting up and pinching the hell out of himself a couple times to make sure he wasn't dreaming.
Another thought that he had was 'do I have an evol, if so what is it and how do I access it' but that was a different time problem. He made his way through the house and it had been as he decorated it in the game which while terrifying was comforting because at least he knew what the layout was... Aside from the hidden cameras.
He decided to take a walk but managed to find a pocket knife before leaving just in case because despite how friendly most people were as NPCs it was completely different when they are no longer NPCs.
He made sure to landmark things so he wouldn't get lost, and made sure to find out the address of MC's house.
He walked for a while just taking in scenery while his nerves were on edge, though he did see the Cafe that zayne often frequented with MC and wanted to go but he was broke, he didn't have his wallet or anything.
He explored for a while, checking out the sights and soon getting lost; then he started panicking. His chest got tight so his breathing picked up, his head felt fuzzy and loud, his eyes and throat burned, and he sat down and balled over himself while trying to catch his breath and stop shaking.
His thoughts seemed to loop 'you're lost' 'you're going to die here alone in a world you don't know because you left the house you've only seen on your phone' 'some wanderer will find me and kill me' and 'why did this have to happen to me' but mainly that last part. He was balled up for who knows how long, because he definitely didn't know how long it had been just that he couldn't calm down.
Some point while he was balled up, a tall figure's shadow covered him which caused him to immediately put a hand into his pocket for the knife he had, just in case he was about to have to fight.
"You lost or somethin' " a voice that sounded familiar made his skin crawl and shivers run up his spine, he was suddenly more terrified than whatever the panic attack had thrown him into.
The reason he spiraled is because that was the fleet colonel Caleb, which if he was mc would've been fine but the problem was he wasn't mc! Did he know what happened, mc was gone and now the love interests of the game were going to murder him.
He started panting and shaking more while starting to sob but it wasn't a loud sob, it was almost a painful whisper of what was.
"Hey" he felt the imposing figure kneel on his level, but the fleet uniform kinda made a couple noises as he did; mainly the leather shifting as he moved so he could actually bend. "I'm not going to hurt you, what's your name?"
A shakey breath of "y/n" came out followed by a sniffle, he took a couple shuddery deep breaths to try to calm down while a warm hand rested on his back for a second before rubbing circles.
Caleb muttered praise as y/n calmed down more, still rubbing hand on his back "once you're ready we can lead you back home"
"But I don't have a home here" y/n muttered before looking up at the vibrant pink and purple eyes meeting back in his own, another shudder down his spine and the hair on his neck stood a little. He almost laughed because of how uncanny it felt to be face to face with a guy he thought on screen alone.
"Sure you do y/n follow me" Caleb smiled "oh I'm Caleb by the way, I guess I should've introduced myself sooner."
"Nice to meet you Caleb" he smiled a bit but followed him
|||
Caleb had gotten an alert on his phone early the same day, a time when he knew MC was usually asleep but then suddenly there was a guy in her bed and she wasn't even there.
He contacted his partners, the responders were Zayne first as he was getting breakfast before heading to work, Sylus who was a night owl most times and always made sure to know when one of his partners texted, rafayel who had finished a sculpture while looking over the beach, and then Xavier who woke up around 12pm and tried to get as much information as he could before heading to the library to read up to find any information before heading to the hunters association.
They'd all agreed that Caleb needed to get back to linkon ASAP so they could all communicate face to face but Caleb had Sylus keep Mephisto close to the mystery man, but something new tugged in all of their chests.
Later on when Caleb found y/n he felt like a magnet drawing them together, though it also felt like he was jolted with electricity which wasn't how it was with MC, they all loved her sure but she wasn't their final connection.
Were they hurt she was gone, less than you would think but Caleb and MC had a nasty argument and broke things off, bad and toxic enough that all the other guys left her too; they were with Caleb first after all.
MC had been cheating on all of them with some unknown guy and had acted like she could have them all, when they had all agreed that they would only see each other. Of course Caleb had found it and had confronted her without being calm about it, all the other men were there so they tried to try to defuse the situation but it was hard due to how ugly the fight was.
|||
When they got back to MC's house, all the other guys were there, just not in direct view as to not scare Y/n, but that was because none of them knew that y/n knew them rather intimately.
Y/n shuddered but sat on the couch when asked, before Caleb sat in front of him before thinking of questions he could ask.
"You aren't going to kill me right?" Y/n shuddered out, his chest feeling different and more full but he was still terrified as fuck.
"Definitely not" Caleb hummed softly "I just want to figure out what the hell happened" he glanced over at one of the cameras that the other guys were definitely watching.
"I don't know, I went to sleep and then I woke up here" y/n muttered "I got this new phone and I guess it was weird, I'm still trying to believe it isn't a dream." He handed Caleb the phone which was the exact one he had purchased the day prior "I don't have any money or anything"
"As our final half you won't have to worry about money, but we all gotta learn each other first" Caleb hummed while examining the phone, but it looked like a normal high end phone from linkon. "Ill have sylus check it out in a little while"
"You know Sylus?" y/n looked at the purple eyes in front of him curiously, the game made everything separate but considering he was know in a world that was game adjacent it would be much different.
"He is one of my boyfriends so I know him pretty well" Caleb smiled a bit before taking the moment to stretch
"It wasn't like that in the game" y/n spoke but actually meant to keep it in his head.
"What game?" Caleb tilted his head and put a hand on his chin.
"Oh fuck" Y/n paused for a second "this is going to sound made up probably; but from where I'm from all of you were game characters in a dating simulator. Though you weren't all together like this and the time lines were separate but all of you were dateable"
Caleb seemed to be nodding but his head was processing the information, this was a unique situation so it's not like anyone else had gone through this before. "How much do you know about us?"
"Well from the game, I know you all very intimately through MC" y/n continued "she was the main character and some of the dating perks got suggestive as hell."
smut; What could go wrong letting your best friend help you relax?
MDNI
Caleb's hands are warm along your lower back, fingers digging into your tense muscles like he's studied each and every fiber of it, knowing exactly where to push to make you gasp. It's peaceful like that, your body slowly surrendering under his touch. Until it shifts. Until his touch moves just a bit too low to be brushed off as innocent.
"Caleb," you murmur, warning tone lingering below, your hips shifting under his touch, thumbs digging into your glutes.
"… yeah?" he responds, voice holding onto a familiar rasp, cheeky in a way, tempting in another. Caleb's fingers still for a second before returning to their shameless progression, circles widening, getting closer, closer, closer to where your body is starting to anticipate him.
You don't even have to turn your head to know he's smirking. And you don't have to shift your hips for him to get the hint when you let your face fall back into the pillow. "You're being mean, you're totally doing that on purpose." Your voice is partly muffled by the sheets, whiny undertone earning a harder squeeze against your ass.
"No idea what you're talking about," Caleb chuckles, shifting closer, his body heat radiating onto you. "You do seem more tense now, though… should I give you a different kind of massage?"
You have to bite your lip to keep from betraying the desperation creeping up when your best friend's touch finds your thighs to tease. "We said we wouldn't do this again," you remind him, voice too weak to be convincing. Looking back, you're not sure what gave you the confidence to think you'd be able to resist him ever again. Not when Caleb's fingers can fulfill promises he'd never even speak of. And not when he's so convincing while teasing the edge of your sweats.
He only hums in response, already knowing he's got you, slowly pulling your clothes further and further down, ignoring the protesting whine falling from your lips. Having your ass exposed to Caleb was not how you envisioned the evening to progress.
"I don't remember ever sayin' that," he grins, now happily kneading your naked skin, still testing the waters by moving his touch centimeter by centimeter closer to too intimate spaces. You want to retort something, almost try when finally Caleb dares to slip a finger between your cheeks, pressing against your entrance. All that escapes you is a gasp.
"And besides," Caleb's finger flexes, just so threatening to slip inside unprepped, and unlubed, "I'd never want to miss out on this, Y/n."
You try not to think about it when the crinkle of a single use lube packet reaches your ears — Caleb definetely didn't plan this, didn't have ulterior motives when he suggested a massage, definitely hasn't been waiting to break the promise you two made. The feeling of Caleb spreading you apart again to let the lube trickle onto your hole only mocks your denial.
"Just make it quick," you murmur, hiding yourself in the pillow like you could hide your own lust with it, muffling the sharp moan as Caleb's index finally pushes past your rim.
Caleb hums, very focused on how your walls wrap around his digit, deeper until his knuckles press against your plump cheeks, pushing against your prostate without any regard for your needy squirming. Like he isn't doing this for you, just for himself.
Xavier’s eyes are wide, same as his legs, spread for you only. The pale inside of his thighs lie bare, soft underneath your fingertips, twitching ever so often whenever you move closer to his core.
“Are you sure you want to try?” he asks, voice breathy, slightly deeper than usual. He’s clearly needy, but doesn’t want to show it. Adorable as usual.
The condom packet crinkles between your fingers as you pull it up, holding eye contact with Xavier while ripping it open, pulling the yellow rubber from its shell and slowly, so very slowly rolling it onto his standing dick. He hisses, hips twitching only so. “Of course, I’m sure,” you assure easily, blinking up at Xavier before focusing his shaft, mouth watering at the overly sweet scent coming off the contraceptive.
Your eyes meet his, purposefully big, doey to the right degree as you take him past your lips, the artificial banana flavour spreading on your tongue. Xavier groans, lids fluttering shut, unable to keep your intense eye contact, fingers flexing by his side to keep from thrusting into your slowly moving mouth.
“Is it- Is it good?” he stutters shyly, glancing downwards, lip caught under perfect teeth. His concern is beyond adorable.
You take your time pulling away from him, lips applying pressure to his cock while doing so, enjoying the visible shudder along his body. “It’s perfect,” you grin, licking upwards his shaft to underline your statement, “I’ll let you try later too, yeah?”
Rafayel
//oral (receiving), dom!reader, brat!Rafayel
“At least try it,” you attempt to encourage Rafayel, offering your most diplomatic smile, hand carding through soft lilac locks. Your boyfriend doesn’t look convinced.
Your condom-wrapped shaft earns a very sceptical look, the berry-tint of it matching Rafayel’s hair satisfyingly, still he seems unconvinced. “I already know I’m not going to like it,” he shrugs, annoyingly matter-of-factly, the defiance making you tug his strands with silent warning.
“You’re such a brat, you know? Just lick it. Once."
His smile tells you he got exactly what he wanted - you, riled up, patience at its end. Somehow it pisses you off even more. Especially when he tilts his head like he’s considering if indulging you is worth it. Another tug on his hair seems to convince him.
“Fiiine,” he drags, the hint of an eyeroll making his lids twitch, “but I’m not doing it because you asked.”
Rafayel darts his tongue out, hesitant for show before the tip of it finally makes contact with the latex. The sensation is faint, yet you shudder, the visual alone stimulating enough. Rafayel’s eyes widen at the taste, a small smile spreading along his lips. “I don’t know, Y/n, the taste isn’ very convincing…”
Your patience snaps, your grip in his hair now pushing him closer to you, harsher than you need to, but he’s very obviously enjoying himself. “With or without the damn condom, I want you to suck my cock, Rafayel,” you snarl, voice as stern as the look you’re giving him. “If you don’t get to it, I’ll make you, don’t forget that.”
Your legs are impossibly shaky, barely holding you up on all fours, and the way Sylus is teasing your inner thighs isn’t helping. His cock left your hole gaping, pulsating for more even though he made you come twice already, getting ready for more. You’re not sure if you can handle the cravings of him and your body.
“Relax, kitten,” he growls as he kisses down your spine, lips inching further and further to his destination, “allow me to get a taste. I didn’t buy these just for your enjoyment.”
Just the thought of the cherry-flavoured condoms makes you whimper, thighs tensing as his lips reach your ass, kissing along rounded cheeks, closer to where he was just fucking into like an animal. He hums before finally diving in, tongue a merciless intruder, his hands its accomplice, holding you tight in place despite your attempts to get away from the overstimulation.
“S-sylus!” you cry out, fighting his grip, though your best attempts are barely enough to move an inch within his hold. “I can’t- can’t ‘m gonna- pass out holy shit.” The relentless thrusts of his tongue knock the air from your lungs, you're surprised you get the words out at all, even if semi-comprehensible.
He pulls back only a little, kissing your hole with a hum. “Cherry suits you, sweetie,” he murmurs and you can feel the burn of his eyes in the back of your head, his voice steady, completely unaffected - if you didn’t know, you’d never guess it’s him responsible for the pool of cum on the mattress between your legs and the two discarded cherry flavoured condoms by the bedside.
Caleb
//oral (receiving)
Caleb’s obscene, taking you down his throat like he’s been practicing his whole life, repeatedly deep without blinking, acting like those galaxy-deep eyes don’t make it impossible not to come prematurely. You can barely look down, choking on your moans while your hips fight his grip, still wanting to thrust further despite his nose already pressing against you.
“C-caleb- fuck-” your high pitched plea makes you cringe, finger flexing against his soft hair, trying to ground yourself.
He hums, the sound barely choked despite your cock so deep down his throat it might as well belong to him. When he pulls off, his eyes are too bright, grin too easy, the wetness all over his chin ignored like it just belongs there now. You almost regret buying the flavored condoms, not having expected him to be this feral about it.
“You know,” he rasps, eyes darting to your cock, one hand lazily wrapping around it to stroke with leisure, “I appreciate the thought, pip-squeak. Buuut…” Caleb’s eyes meet yours, mirth lingering behind blown pupils, “you should know I like your taste more than anything artificial."
You watch, speechless as he pulls the condom off you, your breath catching in your throat, cock twitching so embarrassingly high at the hungry look Caleb offers it, and now you really do regret getting the condoms. Because now, Caleb has something to prove. And that never ends well.
Summary: He heard your voice once through the rain and decided you were his. The pub is emptier every night until you’re ready to learn what it means to belong to a monster.
Tags: No use of Y/N. Male reader. Dark Remmick. Non-con/Dub-con. Strangers into lovers. Stalking. Minor characters death. Vampire x Human sex. Monster fucking. Blood drinking. Blood kink. Spit kink. Lots of drooling. Heavy and messy make out sessions. Possessive and obsessive behavior. First time. Top Remmick. Dominant Remmick. Bottom male reader. Overstimulation. Anal sex. Riding.
Request sent by an anon, hope you’ll like this
ℳ𝒶𝓈𝓉ℯ𝓇𝓁𝒾𝓈𝓉 - gif
Words count: 5000
A pub sat at the crooked end of the street, squat and yellow-windowed. Rain had been falling for three days straight.
The cobbles glistened, gutters ran black and somewhere down the lane, slouched against the brick of a closed bakery, a man stood very still and watched the door of O'Halloran's.
He'd been watchin' three nights now without fidgeting or shifting his weight because the cold meant nothin' to him and neither did the wet.
His dirty tank top was beaded with rain, dark hair plastered flat against his forehead in damp strings while he observed with a small, patient smile playing about his mouth.
The threshold was always the trouble with these places since pub was a home of sorts, therefore he needed an invite.
Remmick had stood at this very curb for two nights running, leaning on the lamppost and listenin' to that music.
He'd heard fiddlers his whole long life and he was older than the pub along the age of every leaving being inside that place.
But he had never, not in all his thousand-and-some years, heard a voice like yours.
He'd come into the lane on the first night by accident, drawn by hunger and a tip from a girl he'd met at a crossroads whose throat he'd opened soft as warm bread and last whispered words had been the pub down by the river with lots of folk, after that he'd stopped dead in the wet street the moment your voice reached his advanced hearing.
He'd stood there in the rain like a fool, mouth slightly open and he'd listened.
You'd taken some old melody and done some twist for it, made it yours.
It had made him feel his dead heart contract, especially when through the glass he'd seen you.
A flush in your cheeks from the heat of the room, hair a bit damp at the temples and shirt open one button too many as the lamplight caught the slip of skin at your throat which caused Remmick to make a small, soft sound at the back of his mouth.
‘Oh,’ he'd thought. ’Oh, would ye look at that, now.’
And he had not been able to stop lookin'.
The first night he didn't get in but just stood by the lamppost till closin' time, watching every silhouette through the smoked glass and tracking your moving shape between sets, watching you laugh with the barmaid while tilting your head back to drink from a tall glass and exposin' the long line of your throat.
He'd had to bite the inside of his own cheek till it bled to keep from doing somethin' stupid, it had only made him hungrier.
Watching you walk home through the rain, he'd followed three streets behind and memorized everything, standing in the wet alley across the way and watching your shadow move behind the curtain as you took off your shirt.
He could've taken you that night while counting down the seconds as you approached the door of your place and have your throat under his teeth before you'd even finished the gasp.
But that would've been a waste because Remmick had developed, over a very long lifetime, certain refinements of appetite and when somethin' rare is found, he was going to take care and savor it.
So he stayed there outside the whole night and understood why you stayed so late at night in that pub.
Wrath overwhelmed his expression at the bruise on your ribs that he knew ached every time you took a breath deep enough to sing properly.
The second night he tried the door, coming earlier this time, at the soft blue hour just before full dark, and he'd washed his face in a horse trough and combed his hair back with his fingers.
The farmers he had killed had a cleaner shirt he put on along a pair of suspenders with only a little blood at the cuffs.
He stood at the threshold of O'Halloran's and he couldn’t cross it.
A man came staggerin' out, sloppy with drink, clappin' his hat onto his head.
"Beg pardon, friend," Remmick said politely with that sweet brogue of his. "D'ye know the pub? Is the landlord about?"
"Yeah," the drunk said, swayin'. "Sean's behind the bar."
"Listen, could ye do me a kindness? Could ye step back in and tell Sean there's a fellow at the door, name of Tomás Byrne, with a message from his cousin in Cork. Tell him I'm to be let in for a moment, just to deliver it."
The drunk blinked as Remmick caught his eye and held it while fighting the urge to just drain his bloodstream.
"Sure," said the drunk dreamily. "Sure, man. Imma tell him."
He went back inside, two minutes passed before the door swung open and there was a big red-faced man with a bar towel over his shoulder. "You the Byrne fellow? From Cork?"
"That's me, sir."
"Well, come on in, then, ye're lettin' the heat out. Welcome— "
The invisible wall crumbled and Remmick stepped across the threshold, feeling the warmth of the place close around him as his hungry currently blue eyes scanned the place in search of the only one who mattered.
He found you in the corner by the hearth turning up between sets, lips pursed in concentration.
The firelight was on you, picking out the down on your cheek and soft curve of your bottom lip.
Remmick took a small table at the back by the wall, a girl came to ask him what he’d like and he simply mumbled a pint without taking his sight off of you without blinking.
You performed with your instrument for an hour without stoppin' And the crowd loved you.
They stamped and threw coins in the cap by your foot. A pretty girl with red curls leaned on a post and made eyes at you and a bigger lad with a beard slapped the table along with the reel.
Remmick sat in his shadow and watched them all and he began, very rapidly, to hate every set of eyes in the room that looked at you.
You'd been his since the first note he heard through the rain and they were contaminating you with their attention.
When you finished the set and came down off the stool, mopping your brow with your sleeve, Remmick was already at the bar just as you reached for your water, meeting your eyes.
"That last one," he said softly, almost shy. "Was it 'The Maid Behind the Bar'?"
You blinked before smiling and up close you were even worse than from across the room, there was a bead of sweat at your temple that he wanted to lean over and lick.
"It was," you said. "Good ear."
"Ah, no, sir, I've a poor ear, I just know that one. My mam used to hum it." He let the brogue come thicker, the way the people liked. "Ye play it lovely."
"Thanks." You laughed a little, embarrassed, looking down at your glass. "Most people prefer it loud and fast."
"Most people are fools," he said and he held your eye when you looked back up.
For one moment somethin' passed between you and he saw your pupils widen when really noticing him.
"What's your name, sir?" You said.
"Remmick."
"Just Remmick?"
"Just Remmick."
"Well, just Remmick, I've got another set in a couple of nights. Any requests?" You smiled at him.
He thought about it, warm pint in his hand as he let his eyes drift from your eyes to your mouth and he watched you notice that, a flush starting up under the collar of your shirt.
"Play me somethin' sad that'll break me heart."
You laughed, uneasy now, and picked up your glass, nodding at him as you walked away. He watched the line of your shoulders as ye went and glanced back once just for a second before you disappeared into the back room.
By the third night he'd stopped needin' to be invited and the old wards on O'Halloran's recognized him now as a regular.
He took his table in the corner and took another pint he won’t be drinking, nor did he speak to anyone but you and only briefly when you came to lean on the bar between sets.
Always gentle, soft-spoken, askin' about the tunes and where you'd learned them.
Falsely speakin’ bout his father bein’ a hard and terrible man who used to take the strap on ‘im for nothin' at all, you'd looked at him with empathy and Remmick had almost laughed out loud at how easy it was to make a beautiful thing pity ‘im.
He thought a great many things in those long quiet nights at the end of the bar, watching you.
How yer skin would smell up close, thinking of a smell faintly of soap and sweat along a particular fragrance that all the truly sweet ones had, blood that had been wrung out by sorrow until it was rich.
He could see how your pulse looked when you performed from across the room, a faint flutter under the soft hinge of your jaw.
He wanted to put his mouth there and feel that flutter against his lips, let the want of it build for a while.
Patience made the meal better.
He did thought about what it would taste like when he finally did sink in, imagining the first hot copper rush of it, how your body would jerk and then slacken, as a surprised gasp would feed straight into his mouth.
Those eyes shimmered red at the thought of peeling you out of those plain shirts you wore and seeing what was under them, the bruises he was already plotting murders for but also wanted to kiss every one of before he ever marked you himself.
Your back would look great when bent over for him, hole tight due to being made of muscle of a body that had never been used, the give of it when he forced his way in.
The noises ye'd make as he pounds into you to than lean down and put his teeth in you while he was still fucking you.
He knew that the moment his fangs broke skin your whole body would clench up tight as a fist around his cock and he would feel it from the stones to his crown. He wanted to drink you while you ride him and hear you sing for him.
About the others…
Remmick had marked the redhead who'd made eyes at you. He'd waited for her one night after closin' three streets from the pub and he'd been very kind to her, lying on how he was lost and asked for directions before taking her by the wrist and walking her into an alley, hand over her mouth before she'd even known to be afraid.
He'd drained her slow while thinkin' of you the whole time, body left in a heap behind a bin.
The bearded lad whose hand had clapped your shoulder too many times got his throat slashed in a quick swing of Remmick’s elongated and sharp claws as the galumphin' bastard thrashed and gurgled.
Many more had been victims of Remmick’s jealousy and by the end of the second week the regulars at O'Halloran's had started to thin drastically, pub half empty by that time.
By the fourth week there were six people in the pub on a Friday night while you, on your stool, looked out at the thin scatter of bodies with unease in your face.
That night, you finally played a slow air for him, looking at him a long moment from your stool before playing somethin' your mother had taught you, sweet and aching that he'd had to put his hand over his mouth as memories of his kin resurfaced.
When you finished, the six people in the pub clapped softly and you looked straight at Remmick, offering a small private smile and Remmick felt somethin' inside him snap.
He couldn't wait any longer.
His teeth were achin' in his gums.
‘Tonight,’ he thought. ’Yer playin’ yer last set in this pub. From now on ye play only fer me.’
He waited till closin', standing at the end of the night and laid a golden coin on the bar and he tipped his head to Sean before stepping out into the rainy lane and going around the back of the building, standing under the eave by the kitchen door where the bins were and waited in the perfect dark with his hands in his pockets, head tilted and listenin'.
He heard you sayin' goodnight to Sean, the little hop you did down the back step along a soft splash as you landed in the puddle by the door.
You came around the corner with your collar turned up against the rain, arm covering your head and Remmick was already movin'.
He came up behind you on the silent feet of his kind and he got one hand around your mouth, lifting you off your feet
Thrashing beautifully in his grip he felt how you were stronger than you looked and Remmick almost laughed out loud against your hair because that was exactly how he wanted you
"Shhhh," he breathed against your ear and his breath was cold. "Shhhh, lad, easy now. I got ye now."
You tried to bite his hand and pressed harder, crushin' your jaw shut as he carried you like a doll across the lane and into the black mouth of the alley beyond.
He pressed his face into your hair and breathed soap and sweat along the faint cheap cologne you dabbed on your throat.
Underneath it, the warm rich blood was goin' wild in your neck, just a quarter inch from his open mouth while you were makin' little sounds against his palm.
"Don't ye be afraid, now," Remmick crooned, almost lovin'. "I'm goin' to take such good care of ye. We've got time, lad."
He shifted his grip and pinched the soft place at the side of your throat and your body went heavy in his arms.
The last thing you saw before the dark took you was his face hangin' over yours with somethin' wet and red just startin' to glint behind his lower lip.
You came back to yourself in stages.
First the cold needles of rain on your face and the strip of throat above your collar. Then the sound of your own ragged breath pluggin' in and out of your nose.
A cold hand clamped at the back of your neck, fingers long enough to wrap halfway round and meet themselves at your throat.
"There's me lad wakin' up just in time, aren't ye?"
Christ, you trashed and threw your weight back against him and it felt like fightin' a stone wall with the way he didn't budge or even breathe harder.
He just laughed against the shell of yer ear and walked you three more stumblin' steps down the lane.
"Easy, easy. None of that, now. I’be been so patient with ye, lad. I was goin' to take ye a proper place, lay ye out on a bed and everythin'. Be a gentleman."
You made a noise against the palm clamped over yer mouth and he pressed harder, thumb diggin' under your jaw, his other hand slidin' down off yer neck to rest possessively over your ribs.
"But I can't. The things ye do t’me…"
He suddenly hunched you back on your feet and pushed forward, causing your knees to hit an old wooden fence runnin' down the side of the lane, separatin' the cobbles from the bit of weedy grass that backed up to the river.
Nobody's lane, pub a hundred yards behind you and not a soul in any window as Remmick bent you over the creaky thing.
One hand on the back of your neck and one between your shoulder blades as he folded you forward on the top rail.
The rail dug into your hips, rain running down your face and into your mouth while making a high thin sound ye didn't recognize as yer own.
"Shhh. Listen to me." His hand left your mouth and clamped down on the back of your head, mashin' your cheek to the wet wood. His other hand was already at the back of your trousers, workin' at the belt. "I'm goin' to take what's mine right here like a beast ‘cause ye've turned me into one. D'ye hear what ye've done?"
The belt came open with a clink, button popping and you felt the cold air on yer lower back as he yanked the trousers down past your arse and a sob came out of your mouth.
"Please—please, sir, please, I— "
"Oh, now he talks with his pretty mouth." Remmick laughed, breathless, half-wild. "Say ’please’ again.“
"Please don't—"
His hand left the back of your head and you heard from behind the rasp of his own belt followed by a wet slap of skin as he pulled his cock out and gave it one rough stroke against the cold air.
Somethin' big and thick against the back of your thigh, slidin' up and leavin' a wet trail of his own drool gather in his hand with how profoundly he was drooling.
"No. No no no no, please, Remmick, I've never—"
"Never?" His voice went soft and crooning, pressing his chest down against your back, cold mouth findin' the shell of your ear as the heavy and blunt head of his cock nestled itself right against your hole. "Never, lad? Oh, ye don't know what ye've just told me."
The points of his teeth bit your earlobe to draw a single bright bead.
"Ye don't know what ye've just given me."
He pushed, driving forward in one long brutal shove, hand on the back of your neck pinnin' you flat, his other arm hookin' under your hip to hold you still and the thick length of him forced its way into you inch by tearin' inch.
A silent scream that got muffled by the wood beneath your mouth.
"Oh, lad, ye're tight—fffffuck"
He bottomed out and your hips were crushed against the rail while he was flush to your arse and you could feel every inch of him buried in, throbbing and enormous, splitting your whole lower body that was now a single hot bar of pain.
You were sobbin' open-mouthed against the wet wood, drool stringin' down your chin and mixin' with the rain.
He held still to feel it, his cold cheek pressed to your hot one, breath comin' fast and shallow against your temple and he was makin' little broken sounds.
"There," he whispered. "There's where I've been wantin' to be fer a month and ye're better than I dreamed, ye're so fookin' warm."
He pulled back, drag of him out that made your eyes roll up with the way it felt bein' turned inside out and you sobbed again and pushed up weakly on your arms but the hand on your neck slammed you flat.
"Stay down fer me. Be good." Each thrust that followed after was a full long stroke, pullin' nearly all the way out and slammin' back in, hips meetin' your arse with a loud wet slap every time.
The fence under your abdomen groaned and creaked with every shove. Each sound of pain timed with a thrust and wet smack of his hips, that punched air out of your throat.
He was deliriously happy in a way that was somehow worse than rage and his thrusts got faster. He'd found his rhythm and he was workin' you on it, all his weight comin' down through his hips into your poor torn arse, cock stretchin' you to the absolute edge of what you could take.
Christ help you out, your own cock was hard.
Not knowing when it'd happened, you were sobbin' from pain and terror, but somewhere in the brutal slidin' of him in and out he'd brushed against that sweet button and now, every thrust and long stroke was directed to your prostate dead-on, draggin' the head of his cock right across it and your own prick was hard as iron between abdomen and the wood of the rail, smearin' precum onto the wet slats with every shove.
Crying from the shame of it and betrayal of your body, Remmick felt your cock against the back of his hand where he'd reached around to grip your hip.
"Oh, lad. Look how he likes it."
"I don't—please—"
He wrapped his cold hand around you and, again, you tried to twist but he gripped tighter.
God, his fingers, when had they got so long?
They wrapped all the way round and overlapped, tips starting to feel pointy where they pressed against the underside of your hot cock, the contrast from his cold hands lit you up.
He stroked you in time with his thrusts and the fence rattled with how force he was putting.
Horrible thing, you were gettin’ close and there was nothin' you could do to stop it.
"That's it, lad, give it to me. I want to feel that little arse squeeze me when ye—"
Your whole body locked, back arching up into him as much as the hand on your neck would allow, cock pulsing in his fist and you spilled hot all over the cold wet slats of the fence, all over his cold long fingers and your arse clamped down on him in a long ripplin' clench that made him snarl into your hair.
He didn't let you come down, fucking you through it even harder and now every thrust into your over-sensitive body was a fresh agony of pleasure, sobbin' open-mouthed as the fence creaked harder, a nail popped somewhere in the rail under your abdomen and a slat split with a dry crack.
His cold and wrong hand was still wrapped round your cock and to your absolute fucking horror you were staying hard.
He fucked you toward the second one with the cold drag of his fist and the brutal pound of his hips along the cold filthy stream of words he was pourin' into your ear.
“That’s me lad takin’ it like he was made fer it, every other man who looked at you… they’re all of them dead fer lookin’ at what’s MINE—“
A whole section of the fence gave under the force of him drivin' you into it, top rail splitting lengthwise with a crack and the slats below sheared off their nails, whole thing pitching forward with you on top of it and Remmick came down on top of you on the wet weedy grass.
The impact drove him another wet crushin' inch deeper into your guts and sudden punch to your insides made you come again with a scream.
Your cock spurted into the grass and into his fist while you saw stars at the edges of yer vision, rain blurrin' into long bright streaks.
"Me good lad, ye perfect…" He was laughin' breathlessly into the back of your neck, pulsing cock still buried to the hilt in your sobbin' body, his whole weight on top of you in the wet grass.
He pushed up off your back and his cock slipped out of you with an obscene wet sound making you whimper at the loss.
What was wrong with you?
"Up," he said. "Come on. Up."
He sat down on the grass, back against the wreck of the fence and cock standin' up red and impossibly long as he hooked his cold hands under yer arms and dragged you up with horrible easy strength to turned your body around and pull you down onto his lap.
You were facin' him now, thighs spread over his as the large crown of his cock was nudgin' up against your used-open hole.
Now you got a proper look at his face for the first time since the alley and you made a sound in your throat at witnessing his red eyes.
Bright color all the way through and the lower half of his face was a wet smear of your own blood and viscous drool that the rain hadn’t managed to wash clean, mouth hanging open and the eye-teeth were long curving, hooked over his lower lip on either side.
A long string of drool was hangin' from one of them.
His fingers on yer hips were too long, each fingertip endin' in a sharp black point now, a claw, prickin' little crescents of blood out of your skin where they dug in.
"Ride me," he purred, sound rattling in his throat when he spoke.
"R-Remmick, please, I— "
"Ride me, lad." He smiled and it was a horror, all those long teeth on display, drool runnin' down his chin in two thin streams.
His clawed hand came up to the back of your head and pulled you down inexorably toward his open mouth that soon came up and met yours in a kiss.
Dangerous mouth of his a swamp, flooded on drool spilling out of the corners of his lips into your mouth the second he opened you, copper-tinged and tastin' of your own blood.
The long teeth scraped your lip as his tongue pushed in, shovin' to the back of your throat and the drool kept pourin' out of his mouth into yours as he held your head pinned.
A long and prolonged hungry kiss till your lungs were burning and were beatin' weakly at his shoulders to try and turn your face away.
He let you up just before you blacked out and you sucked in air in a great whooping rasp, face plastered with his drool and your blood all poorly washed away by the rain, all of it streakin' down your chin and your throat to create the most beautiful piece of art he had ever seen as he observed with those red red eyes shinin', mouth open in that long-toothed grin.
"Now ride me," he said. "Or I'll turn ye." His clawed hand at your hip squeezed, and ye felt warm wet tricklin' down yer thigh where the points dug in. "I'll bite yer neck and bleed ye dry and ye'll be mine forever. I'll fuck ye every night fer the rest of eternity and I'll never stop, lad."
He smiled.
"D'ye want that?"
You shook your head with the lack of words forming inside your throat.
"I’m struggling no t’ do that to ye, lad." His clawed thumb stroked yer cheek, almost gentle, smearin' the blood deeper into your skin. "Ye're me little blood pet, me sweet warm barrel. Won't that be lovely?"
He grinned wider, drool running down his chin.
You were tremblin', his cock was nudged up against your hole again, slick from your own blood with help of his clawed hands along and his own spit and your cum.
"Ride," he said. "Now."
You sank down on him because there was nothin' else to do and his hands at your hips were already pressin' ye down, thighs shaking too hard to hold ye up.
Sinking down on his huge cock and taking every inch of him with a long broken whine through your teeth and when you’d taken him to the root your own prick was hard again between you two.
"There he is. There's me good lad." He lifted yourself on shakin' thighs and back down again and again while tears were comin' hot down your cheeks, his clawed hand was at the small of your back guidin' you and his other clawed hand was at the back of your head guidin' you too, red eyes devourin' your face, drinking every twitch and flutter of your eyelashes.
He bent his head forward and bit your shoulder, setting those long curvin' teeth against the meat of your shoulder, the points dimplin' the skin before he pressed and they slid through your flesh.
You gasped, hips jerking involuntarily and driving yourself down on him harder, causing him to make a deep hum of pleasure into yer skin while drinking.
It was the worst pleasure you’d ever felt. There was pain in it and your head went heavy, hips movin' on him like they'd forgotten how to stop, ridin' him slow and dazed now while he drank out of your shoulder in long even swallows.
His arm wrapped round your waist to lock you against him, greedy of all the iron-liquid that fed your cells while you lost count of your own thrusts up-and-down on his cock.
The world went swimmy at the edges.
He pulled off your shoulder with a wet sound and licked the wound before he bent down and put his teeth into the meat of your arm.
Your hole clenched on him in waves and your cock bobbed between your abdomens as your mind was a soft warm fog of pain.
His face was a wet mask when he finally let go of your arm, lower half black-red and shinin' and his red eyes were brighter than ever, hips jerkin' up to do all the work now, clawed hands grippin' you too tight, drawin' fresh little crescents.
He reached between you and wrapped that long-clawed hand round your cock again, three strokes that ended up being the final element for you to cum, dry this time, just empty bone-deep convulsions, sobbin' open-mouthed against his bloody throat and the squeeze of you was too much for him, nowhere left for his cock to go with how deep he pulled you down, no inch not buried in you.
He was already too big with the way he had split you open ‘round him, but his cock thickened inside you in one long throbbin' surge, head fattenin' against your prostate, shaft swelling to fill out every last bit of slack and you sobbed into his throat from the stretch of it, hole clamping down again helplessly and that was what tipped him.
He came with a grunt into your collarbone, thick length of him kicking inside you, first long pulse of him painting your insides white.
More came in as he emptied himself into you in heavy spurts, each one shovin' a little deeper because he was crushed up against your chest and there was nowhere for it to go but in, fillin' you till you could feel the warmth of it spreadin' through your belly where he was packed inside.
A thin trickle of it started to escape round the seal of his cock and slide down the inside of your thigh.
His hips kept jerkin' in aftershock thrusts, each one squelchin' wet with his own cum and the slow seep of your blood from where his claws had opened you at the hip.
That was what he'd been usin', you realized in a far-off dim way, what had gone slick down the length of him before he'd even pushed in.
He tore his teeth out of your shoulder, fangs coming free with a fresh hot rush of blood that welled up out of the four neat puncture holes, runnin' down your collarbone in two thick streams and Remmick made a desperate broken noise, tongue coming to lap at the wound, gatherin' up every drop, tongue dragged broad and wet across your skin and coming back even redder.
All the slurping he made was the filthiest sound you’d ever heard in your life while the drops kept beading.
Your head was hangin' low, chin almost on your own chest, hair stuck to your face with rain and sweat.
His clawed hand came up under your jaw to lift your face up, long black points of his nails pricked little crescents into the soft underside of your chin as he turned you to him and your head lolled in his grip and allowing you to see a fresh dribble of your blood runnin' wet from one corner of his lip down into his stubble.
This right before devouring your mouth, tongue shoved straight in past your slack lips and the taste of copper exploded inside it along his drool runnin' viscous and stringy out the corners of his mouth and pouring down into yours, smearin' across your cheek where his lips slid wet over your skin, paintin' your chin and jaw along the underside of your nose in a thick streaky red film.
He grunted into your mouth, hips jerking up under you on instinct, drivin' his still-half-hard cock another half-inch into your used and stuffed hole while you whimpered weakly into his tongue and your poor exhausted body clenched on him again.
The fangs nicked you in small cuts on the soft inside of your lip above the line of your teeth and blood welled up in small drops that made the monster moan, tongue suddenly frantic, lashin' inside your mouth, dartin' under your tongue and scrapin' along the cut on your lip, chasin' every bead.
His hand on your jaw tightened and the claws drew thin red lines as he kissed you harder, nose mashed flat against yours, stubble bristly against your chin, ropy strings of it spillin' from the corner where his mouth couldn't seal to your and runnin' down both your jaws.
You couldn't breathe, chest hitching weakly against his and he held you there, drinkin' the little leakin' cuts inside your mouth with the desperate single-mindedness of a monster.
When he finally let your mouth go, a thick rope of pink-red drool stretched between yer lips, swayin', before it broke and fell wet onto your chest.
Remmick sighed, long and satisfied.
"Good lad," he murmured and licked the smear off your chin in one possessive swipe. “Y’ wanna come in wi’ me, now?”
You couldn't move or speak while lyin' against the cold dead chest of the thing that had taken you and you were thinking through the fog about what was waiting for you at home.
Your head fell against his cold shoulder and Remmick made a soft pleased sound.
"That's it, sweet thing. Ye rest now. I'll get ye a home in a wee bit."
Remmick rocked ye in his lap and hummed, very softly, the slow air you'd played for him on the stool and you closed your eyes against his cold cold throat.
Lone Wolf Assassin MaleOmega!Reader x Feral Alpha Cleric: Part 6
CWs: Very slight scent/musk kink, orgasm denial, reader gets their ass ate, anal sex. Do not actually have sex in a pond, do not get microorganisms in your hole. This is fantasy where medical concerns do not exist unless they add to the bit :3 Omegaverse gives u immunity to parasites bc I said so. Also 69 position.
Non-Smut CWs: this chapter does contain mentions of dressing, skinning, and butchering a deer, as well as consumption of raw meat. While this isn’t abnormal for Beastkin as mentioned in the story, I wanted to give a warning regardless. CW for fantasy violence and body horror.
You awoke the next morning to the sound of Aya babbling away. You looked to your side, slowly opening your eyes to find she wasn’t beside you.
Oh shit.
You shot up, whipping your head in the direction of the sound. Given the size of the tent, you found Aya fast; right as her little hands began to reach towards your (thankfully sheathed) knife. Just like a newborn wolf, she was learning fast, curious to interact with everything.
You awkwardly climbed over Varin to get to her, your body pressing against his chest.
How the fuck did she get there?
“No, no, that is not for you,” you sang, grabbing the knife and placing it back in your bag, tying it up. “The only sharp and pointy thing you should have are your teeth,” you said before patting the top of her head.
Her mouth hung open in surprise at how fast you had taken away the dagger. She paused, letting out a few quiet yips as she frowned.
“I’m sorry,” you started. “But you can’t-” She let out a piercing cry; one unlike any you had heard before. You weren’t sure how to respond.
It’s a knife, why is she upset that I’m taking a knife away? You looked behind you, quickly grabbing the little wolf plushie you had brought with. “You can’t play with that, but-”
She continued to reach for the bag, and you pushed the bag behind you out of her reach. “Yeah, no, sorry, I’m not doing that,” you stated matter of factly.
“You uh…” Varin yawned, clearly having just woken up. “You alright?”
“Oh, I’m fine. She’s the one trying to kill me,” you joked. “With my own knife, nonetheless.”
Varin smiled, confused. “…what?”
Aya slowly crawled over to Varin, clearly feeling betrayed by your harsh decision-making. She rested her head against his chest, repeating the same few syllables over and over again.
“Mm, I agree,” said Varin, kissing the top of her head. “He’s so mean. You should bite him.”
You rolled your eyes, “I know. I’m just awful because I don’t want the pup holding a knife,” you grabbed your bag. “I’m going to bathe, don’t give her any sharp objects.”
“My entire morning routine is falling apart at the seams,” Varin responded sarcastically.
Varin had chosen a good spot to set-up camp; flat land, a pond only a few feet away, your tent still in full-view. You undressed, setting your bag next to the pond before submerging yourself in water, washing off the stress of yesterday. Soon enough, you saw Varin walk out of the tent, sitting at the pond’s edge with his own bag in hand. “She’s back asleep. Probably will be for a few hours or so.”
“Good. She was awake far too late last night, but…couldn’t really be helped,” you sighed.
You watched as he took off his robes, folding them with care as he spoke. “Not really. I know time is of the essence, but…” he let out a sigh, reaching for the slim pipe from his bag and filling the end of it with tobacco. “I’m glad we could take a moment to rest.”
“I am too. Although,” you looked up at the sky, the sun would soon reach its peak. “We shouldn’t stay here for too much longer.”
“I guess not,” said Varin as he lit the pipe. “But…” he took a deep inhale, blowing smoke out into the air. “I’ll savor the time we have left.”
You continued to wash yourself, looking back to see Varin peacefully smoking as he gazed at you. “What, you’re just going to sit there and watch?”
“Would that bother you?”
You paused, watching as Varin stared at your naked body. “I suppose not. You could join me, you know.”
“I could…” he trailed off, pretending to think. “But there’s something fun about just looking, don’t you think?” You watched as he leaned further back, running his hand over the growing bulge in his pants.
Your eyes narrowed. “I’ve never met a priest who’s such a pervert.”
He shrugged, “those things don’t have to be mutually exclusive,” he inhaled from the pipe once more, the smoke slowly disappearing as he set it down beside him. He stood up, pulling his shirt off.
With how long it had been since you were able to truly rest, his scent was intense, almost sickly sweet; like caramel still bubbling on a stove, just on the cusp of boiling over. The scent only pulled you to him closer. You watched as he continued to undress, his hard cock springing free.
He smiled, stroking himself. “Something you’d like to say?”
You crossed your arms together. “…no.” Despite your words, you found yourself approaching him, moving closer and closer. You looked up at him, watching precum drip from the tip of his cock. “Stop teasing me.”
He sat at the edge of the pond, legs wide enough for you stand between as his cock stood straight up. He paused, his hands relaxing at his side. “Fine. I’ll just sit like this then.”
Again, he wore that stupid smug grin on his face, yet you couldn’t help but rest your hands against his thick thighs.
“Would you like me to get in the water with you?” He asked, as if nothing he did was out of the ordinary.
Your eyes were fixated on his cock, his balls heavy and full; it had been at least a week since he last fucked you. Maybe it was hormones from your progressing pregnancy, maybe it was the intensity of his scent, maybe it was just your innate nature. Regardless of the reason, you couldn’t help yourself. You leaned down, sucking at the tip of his cock, balancing yourself on his legs as you remained in the water.
He put a hand on the back of your head, “just couldn’t wait, could you?”
You lowered yourself down even further, the taste of his cock, the smell of his sweat making you want more and more. You felt the tip hit the back of your throat, beginning to move your head back and forth as you inhaled his musk.
You watched as he slowly unraveled, quickening breaths turning into moans. You took your time, savoring the sensation as you ran your tongue all the way from his balls to the tip. His grip on you grew tighter as you licked the slit of his cock, and just as you felt his cock twitch, you stopped.
You couldn’t help but smile, satisfied as you watched his flushed face. His cock twitched desperately, begging to be touched, you you kept your hands to yourself. “I told you not to tease me.”
He slowly caught his breath, letting out a weary laugh. “You…you’re evil. Truly.”
You moved further away, “and what are you going to do about it?”
He grinned, pushing himself off the edge into the pond, slowly approaching. “I’m not sure. I’m sure I’ll think of something once I catch you.”
He grabbed you by the waist, holding you close to his chest. He lightly bit at your neck, hands trailing down your body. He began to stroke you off, your cock growing hard in his hand. “I could do the same to you. See how you like it, hmm?”
“You can’t do that,” you teased. “I’m carrying your pups, you have to do whatever I want,” your laughter slowly shifted into moans.
“Oh? Is that how it works?” He pressed his own cock against your ass.
“I don’t know, you’re the priest,” you quickly retorted.
He spread your ass apart, rubbing his hard cock against your hole. “Well, I’ve told you my thoughts. How it’d be a sin to waste an opportunity to breed you. But since I already have…” he bit your neck once more. “Helping myself to your other holes surely wouldn’t be a sin.”
Before you knew it, he had lifted you out of the water and into his arms. You couldn’t help but let out a yelp, the sudden cold air somewhat taking you out of the moment. You clung to him like a koala bear, yet shouted like a banshee. “Put me down you asshole!”
“That’s what I’m working towards, yes,” he hummed, unfazed by your ranting. He led you back to the edge of the pond, setting you down on the grass before climbing over you, the water running down his body glistening in the sunlight. Before you could protest anymore he was in between your legs, deep-throating your cock. If the goal was to shut you up, it worked.
He kept his hands on your legs, preventing you from twitching as his tongue snaked down your shaft. He coated your cock in his spit, and eventually pressed your legs further back. “That’s it, just relax,” he cooed, moving to run his tongue along your hole. The sensation drove a shock through your spine, Varin having to work harder and harder to keep you still. You didn’t realize how sensitive you were until he kept going, letting out a gasp as he spit onto your asshole. He moved over you, his cock lined up with your hole. Despite your earlier sass, you gladly kept your legs spread for him now.
You were sure how exactly how long he spent fucking you, how long he spent holding your face and kissing you as you felt his cock slam against your prostate. Yet when you finally finished, you knew you’d need to get back in the water.
———————————————
As enjoyable as the lakeside sex was, it had lost you a few hours of daylight. Still, you had no regrets.
Varin carried Aya most the time, the child wrapped around his chest allowing him to keep his hands free. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to carry Aya, but pulling back a bowstring with a child strapped to your chest just wasn’t possible. Her legs dangled out from the fabric, her head facing the road in front of her.
She looks like a little frog.
This leg of the journey wouldn’t be particularly interesting, passing through the forest towards the mountain range, but Varin’s commentary on your surroundings moved things along. “And that, is a deer,” Varin pointed, his finger following a small doe galloping through the woods, the sun just starting to set. “They can be very yummy.”
Aya let out a sound that almost sounded like growling, a harsh, rolling ‘r’ sound.
“I don’t think she likes the deer,” you laughed, your hands casually placed behind your head.
“Wait, hold on,” said Varin, lowering his voice and stopping in place. He pulled Aya away from his chest, gently setting her on the ground. Normally, she would pause, looking confused for a moment before playfully rolling around. This time, she aggressively crawled forward, letting out a noise somewhere between a bark and a cry.
You paused, simply watching as she inched forward. “…is she supposed to do that?”
Varin nodded, letting out a quiet laugh. “You really haven’t spent much time around pups, have you?”
“My job is taking lives out of the world, so…no.”
Varin shot your stomach a look, raising an eyebrow.
You crossed your arms. “Shut up.”
“I didn’t say anything,” he laughed, unable to find your annoyance anything short of adorable. “But her senses are developing, along with her teeth. Like any Beastkin, she’s called to the hunt.”
You looked back at the deer, watching as it peacefully drank from a nearby creek. “And that’s her prey? It’s massive compared to her.”
Varin shrugged, “she’s got big dreams, I suppose.”
You looked back down, watching Aya furiously crawl. Yet despite her intense movements, she hadn’t gone very far.
“Well, those dreams are going to take awhile,” you mumbled.
“We’re supposed to help her, she’s not supposed to take it out all on her own. Although, most pups I’ve seen chose rabbits or foxes…”
“What do we do?”
“Well, you could shoot it, for starters. She’s only got one tooth.”
You pulled out your bow, nocking an arrow. It wasn’t a difficult shot, the arrow whizzing through the air. It punctured the doe’s skin, and you quickly nocked another as it started to run. It staggered, giving you just enough time to land another arrow on its side.
Varin picked Aya up off the ground; as entertaining as it was to watch her vigorously crawl, she was already covered in dirt. “Alright, that’s enough of that,” he sighed, the two of you walking towards the buck. Aya let out a cry, thrashing her tiny fists against Varin’s chest.
You began to process the doe, removing the skin. As you worked, it was a constant struggle to keep Aya away from the doe; the predator yearned for its prey, you supposed.
Eventually, the fire was set, and while you and Varin let the meat cook, a pup like Aya had teeth she needed to prepare for. You had to cut some of the raw meat into itty-bitty pieces to ensure she wouldn’t choke, but as she ate, it was clear Aya was more than satisfied with her first ‘hunt’, her cheeks stained red.
Varin gave her a bath, the child absolutely filthy after the meal and crawling on the dirt. As Varin bathed her, you finished preparing the rest of the deer. You cut it into thin strips, dousing it in salt before smoking it. With any luck, you’d be able to preserve most of the meat. You had started the day late and ended early; tomorrow, there’d be no time to stop and hunt, and the doe could last you the rest of the week.
You watched Varin and Aya while you worked; it was always endearing to see him joke and play with her, a stark contrast to your first meeting at the inn. Between the bar fight and his pack, Varin didn’t seem particularly keen on people outside of his priestly duties. Being the exception to the rule certainly was nice.
An aching pain in your back pulled you away from your work, reminding you of your new deadline. Once you got to the second month of your pregnancy, you’d need to nest; finding a place for that was vital. But for now, the fire was warm, and everyone seemed at ease.
——————————————————
As days passed, the scenery stayed mostly the same. Aya however, did not.
You knew Beastkin children grew fast, yet you never realized exactly how fast until now. No two days were alike with baby Aya, and soon enough, she was starting to walk; barely.
Calling it walking was a bit of a stretch. She’d never get very far, only taking a step or two before one of you would need to catch her, but she seemed determined to walk by yours and Varin’s side. After all, the forest was getting quite repetitive; walking would be a nice (literal) change of pace for the child.
“And we go…one…foot…in front of the other…” you mumbled, taking slow steps forward as she stood on your feet, following your movements. Was it helpful? Probably not. But her giggles always broke up the monotony of each day.
Yet as Aya grew, so did the child inside you; each day getting just a little harder than the last. The endurance you had trained so hard to build was slowly dwindling, random flashes of heat and chills interrupting your movements. It was as if you could feel every movement of your body, feeling your very bones start to shift. The pain was quickly becoming overwhelming. Now, if someone were to see you they’d know you were pregnant just by looks alone; every time you took off your armor you felt a sigh of relief, even if it was tied as loosely as it could go.
You looked over your map by the fire, Varin keeping track of Aya. Every so often, she’d slip out from Varin’s grip, taking a step towards the fire.
“No, no, we do not touch the fire…” you heard Varin mumble for the umpteenth time as he hoisted Aya away, setting her on his lap.
You traced the road on your map; if you kept your current pace, you could make it into the mountains tomorrow. You’d still need to find somewhere suitable to nest, but the chance of someone finding you would become far less likely; you could finally visit a town or city without constantly looking over your shoulder. You missed a soft bed. You missed a warm bath. But as you and Varin prepared for bed, you realized the wilderness didn’t bother you nearly as much as it had in the past.
You laid in Varin’s arms, Aya beside you, warm and happy.
One more night, and we can breathe.
——————————————————
You woke up to the sound of Aya crying. Your eyes lazily opened, the lack of light making it clear you hadn’t been asleep long.
“What is it?” You mumbled, still barely awake. Her cries grew louder, and you quickly realized this wasn’t a cry you had heard before. She was not hungry, or dirty, or tired. She was afraid.
You turned to your side, and Varin was gone.
You panicked, now widely awake as you scanned the tent. The first thing that caught your eye was your bag, slung towards the front of the tent. As you walked closer, the harsh smell of mint filled your nostrils. Your bag was open, the two bottles of fae-wing extract empty.
You looked back at Aya. You grabbed her, holding her towards your chest. You desperately tried to rock her, kissing her head as you attempted to comfort her, but nothing seemed to work. “Shh, it’ll be alright, everything will be alright,” you cooed, slowly poking your head out the tent.
Where the fuck is he?
You heard a howl in the distance, followed by a vicious snarl getting closer and closer. You knew better than to freeze at such a sound; if you were about to be attacked, there was no time to wait. You set Aya down, grabbing your bow and quickly nocking an arrow before poking your head back out the tent. The situation was far from ideal, but you needed both hands if you wanted a chance at protecting Aya. You looked out onto the clearing, unable to see anything.
Something ran past your tent.
Like a bolt of lightning, it moved so fast you could barely make it out, a flash of pale skin darting across your vision. It hissed before letting out a guttural scream unlike any beast you had ever heard; not a wolf, not a bear, not a lion, even. You looked up towards the mountains, noticing the bright red blood moon radiating off the trees. When you looked back in front of you, two red eyes stared back at you.
You fired. No time to hesitate.
It let out a wail, but remained standing as you nocked another arrow. It rushed towards you, the creature soon revealing its full form. It was nearly seven feet tall, skin stretched and torn, dried blood and bones visible even from afar. Its jaw had been dislocated to make room for fangs nearly as tall as your hand, sharp claws protruding from its finger tips. It moved in a way that was deeply unnatural, its body twitching and convulsing with every step, as if something was trying to escape from within the creature’s body. You had heard of such a creature.
This was what became of omegas with the Disease.
Varin. No, no that can’t be him. Please, please don’t be him.
Yet it was a full moon, the same picture that had plagued his chest. A full moon, its surface a vibrant shade of crimson, a red fog surrounding it. The creature lunged forward, and you let loose another arrow. It staggered back, yet still hadn’t fallen.
I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.
You reached for another arrow, instinctively shielding Aya with your body as you stood in front of her, her cries echoing through the forest. The creature swung its claws towards you. Before it could strike, something tackled it to the ground.
For a moment, you thought it was a wolf, thick black fur covering its body. Yet it ran on two legs, its torso that of a human, even taller than the omega attacking you.
…a werewolf? It can’t be, those haven’t existed for hundreds of years.
The werewolf growled, slashing its claws across your attacker’s face as it roared. The Diseased omega was unrelenting, craning its neck to try and bite the werewolf. Its teeth plunged into the werewolf’s arm, the werewolf letting out a howl in pain. The werewolf plunged its claws into the creature’s neck, ripping it off from its skin and tossing it to the side like it was weightless. The omega let out a shriek, reaching to bite the werewolf once more.
The omega’s fangs connected to the werewolf’s shoulder. The werewolf plunged its claws into the omega’s head, puncturing its skin like paper. Yet your attacker was unrelenting, scratching and biting until its last breath, fangs repeatedly piercing through fur and flesh. When the grotesque creature finally fell, the werewolf’s breathed heavily, husky breaths resonating through the forest as it stared upon your now lifeless attacker.
When the werewolf turned to face you, you held your bow up once more, arrow ready. Yet upon its chest was a shape of the full moon, glowing red as matching tendrils snaked its skin. When the werewolf stared at you, it let out not a howl, but a whimper. It fell to its knees, fur caked in blood. The glowing red tendrils spread across its entire body, as if binding him. The red light grew stronger and stronger. You dropped your bow, holding Aya close to keep her from being blinded by the light, squinting your eyes as it intensified.
When it finally faded, there was Varin, white robes torn and bloodied. He laid on the ground, tail between his legs and curled up on the ground. He desperately clutched a necklace; one of the amulets he always wore, an emblem of The Hunter and Mother God. There, he shivered, repeating what sounded like a prayer over and over and over.
You hesitated to run to him; you had heard the rumors of the Disease. Hell, now you had seen it yourself. He had defended you, but there was no telling if Varin was still the man you knew.
Aya squirmed, her tiny arms reaching for Varin as she cried. Hesitantly, you stood up, walking towards Varin. As you approached, it became harder and harder to keep Aya still.
You kneeled down beside him, and Aya squirmed free from your grip. She toddled over to him, only taking two steps before leaning forward, balancing herself onto Varin. She once again started to babble, slowly starting to calm down now that both of you were around her. You watched as Varin slowly breathed, his breath wobbling with each exhale. It almost sounded like he was crying.
“I’ve failed,” he sputtered.
Despite his words, you were happy just to hear him speak. You looked him over; the wounds he had sustained in his other form were still there, his left arm still bloodied. “Varin, Varin you’re hurt,” you mumbled, unsure of what to say other than the obvious.
“I’m sorry,” he mumbled between quiet cries. “I thought I was different. That I wouldn’t become a beast like the rest of them. I failed.”
“Dada,” Aya mumbled as she patted his shoulder. For the first time, her babbling felt somewhat coherent.
“Please don’t let her see me like this,” Varin quietly cried. “I can fix myself up, just…” he paused, unable to look at you in shame. “Please go back to bed.”
You grabbed Aya once again, still in shock as you looked down at Varin. You tried to speak, but were unable to find the words, lip quivering in silence. You looked back at the mangled creature that had tried to attack you, flesh and bone on its face slowly melting away to reveal the face of a young woman.
Even when she became that…that thing. That woman was still in there the whole time.
You weren’t sure if that was comforting or terrifying.
“I…” you let out a sigh. “I’ll be waiting for you.”
“Don’t,” said Varin weakly. “I…I shouldn’t sleep near you. I’ll stay out here.”
Your chest ached at the thought. “…you changed back. It’s over, it shouldn’t-”
“It’s not safe. I’m sorry.”
You quietly nodded, walking back to the tent and setting Aya down in hopes she’d fall back asleep soon. You looked out the tent once more, and Varin was still out there, curled up on the dirt. Even if much was unknown, even if neither of you knew what he was truly capable of, you could only say one thing as you looked back at him;
“Please come back to bed.”
(Part 7 Coming Soon!)
WHEW! So ermmmm that was a lot. I promise they’ll be okay though, in the end. I pinky promise. Everything will be a okay cool beans in time. The plot just needs to angst. We are all in this together.
ANYWAY UHHH BRIEF WORLDBUILDING NOTES!
I’ve mentioned it in a few other posts, but part of my omegaverse lore is that Beastkin, the race that utilizes alphas/betas/omegas, develop at a faster rate than traditional humans :D Pregnancy lasts four months, and they’re typically around a month or two ahead of where a typical human baby would be. So while Aya at this point is around 7 months, developmentally she’d be closer to a human 8-9month old.
Additionally, yes, Beastkin can consume raw meat in small quantities! I thought it’d be fun to lean in more on other ‘wolf-like’ aspects while worldbuilding. I’ll eventually do a big lore info post, I just haven’t had time. But if an adult Beastkin eats too much meat, they’ll get a tummy ache. Like think if you’re lactose intolerant and you eat a bunch of ice cream. A ‘it hurts so fucking bad but it was so yummy’ type tummy ache.
ALSO in regards to plagued omegas and werewolves and all that. Pretty much the way I view the werewolves/abominations in this is it’s kinda like a flesh mechsuit. As implied by the other chapters however though, all omegas lose control when they transform into their grotesque, diseased form, whereas Varin maintained control and took on more of a werewolf form than a body horror thing. Is it because he’s an alpha? Is it because of the fae wing extract? Is it a secret third thing? Find out next time :3
Now, since that chapter was a lot, here’s a poll for something thats a little more light hearted. What should the gender of Varin/Reader’s child be? This won’t come up for a few chapters, but I figured I’d give us something to look forward to after the angst :,) If it makes a difference, Aya is a female alpha!
What is da baby
Male Alpha
Male Omega
Female Alpha
Female Omega
Remaining time: 2 days 19 hours
But yeah. Thank you for reading!!! The plot is plotting.
Contentsㅤㅤܢ ㅤslow burn, love at first sight (? i dont think these tags make sense together but trust me...), prime high cloud quintet, foxian male reader, jy/yx/df have a weird situationship going on, some lore, written in jy/yx/df's pov, yingxing lowk has a size diff kink. if you remove reader this is literally just dan feng x yingxing yearning for jing yuan. because i love jing yuan. thats all, i think. this is chapter one of the series: fragmented fragrance!
⎯⎯͟͟♥︎̼ blade/jing yuan/dan heng x foxian male reader
“Will you cease your staring?”
Jing Yuan disappeared from their regular sparring (and by regular, it usually entails the domineering skill of Jingliu upon her disciple) just a few moments ago. An action which understandably irked the legendary swordmaster, Jingliu, and incurred her wrath on anyone who dared to remain. Unrightfully so, Dan Feng felt. But there was no denying her demands, especially when her sword was a millimetre away from slicing his throat open.
Dan Feng would never let that happen in a million years. And if you asked him, which one? Being demanded to go on a wild goose chase or die in such an insignificant manner, you won’t get an answer anyway. But the slight roll of his eye and the muttering beneath his breath as he stood up, undoubtedly to go search for his… comrades wouldn’t go unnoticed. He was a softie at heart.
And so here he was, standing behind Yingxing who (disappeared after being sent off to find Jing Yuan. The nerve of these two, now Dan Feng was acting like some sort of unpaid nanny for a misbehaving child. Or two, to be specific.) was staring off into the distance, at two figures beneath a large tree.
The Vidyadhara has never been this irritable before.
From afar, Dan Feng could recognize one silhouette. That unruly mess of hair stuck him out like a Borisin amongst Foxians.
And speaking of Foxians…
“Who is it Yuan is speaking to?”
Yingxing, as a craftsman intending to master the way of the swords, has an ear for certain tunes. The way the metal may clink under pressure, or hiss when submerged in water, are not unknown to him. And despite Dan Feng’s calm exterior, he knew for certain the man was expressing… possessiveness?
A twitch of a smile threatened to lift Yingxing’s lips. Naturally. Blessed by the Aeon of Permanence Long: Vidyadhara’s were granted the blessing of constant reincarnation, could transform into dragons. And dragons in nature had a habit of… hoarding. Dan Feng would not admit it, but it’s clear to the quintet that they were already his.
Yingxing allowed for a slight sound to escape him. No way. No way this reserved man was jealous of someone speaking to Jing Yuan. Or perhaps it was the other way around.
But Dan Feng was not just feeling possessiveness. No, it intertwined with something stranger. Something unfamiliar. Their Jing Yuan, bringing a stranger so close to their circle would bring upon a dragon who protected his own. And yet, the idea of another treasure so close and yet so out of reach was tempting.
“A Foxian. Yuan has been dragging him around lately, I’m sure you’ve seen him.”
Dan Feng hummed. Of course he had. Who would expect him to forget a face like yours?
The very first time Dan Feng saw you, Jing Yuan was dragging you around Aurum Alley. From afar he could see that unsure look on your face, but the need and want to stick close to the other man in a sea full of people. Jing Yuan had that effect. But you…
You were captivating.
Captivating enough to pull him in and trudge on forward, abandon his initial plans to leave Jing Yuan and the mystery Foxian alone. Captivating enough that, upon reaching both of you at some stall, looking over local delicacies, Dan Feng’s eyes could not stray from yours. No matter how hard he tried.
He remembered the twitch of your ears at the sounds of scurrying people all around you, and the way the warm light got caught on your face.
“Hm. So you have as well?”
Yingxing barks out a laugh. “If I didn’t notice that idiot hauling around a man like that I’d be blind.” Whatever that sentence entailed depended on who you asked. Maybe the way Jing Yuan dragged you along was unruly, unbecoming. Or perhaps the man being dragged along was too interesting to be unnoticeable.
“Of course I have Feng'er. He’s been trailing behind Jing Yuan like a shadow as of late.”
Dan Feng quirked a brow. “Jingliu has sent me to look for both of you.” He crosses his arms, challenging Yingxing to look at his eyes. “And instead of bringing him back, you decided to step back and watch? Let me take the brunt of her anger?”
“Relax. Jingliu would not do that to you. Whatever anger she has would be directed to her disciple.” Yingxing chuckles. The sight of that woman rough housing Jing Yuan might as well be the best entertainment life could offer. It didn't help that Jing Yuan was of most interesting to look at.
The craftsman remains silent after that. His gaze is still to those two figures beneath the tree. “Besides, I can’t be blamed, can I? They make for a pretty image together.”
A beat. Dan Feng looks at your silhouettes once more.
“I suppose you’re right.”
The wrath of the legendary sword champion was worth it. Jing Yuan thought.
If sneaking around longer than he intended to reward him with more time with you, no stabbing ice would deter him from the sheer happiness he felt. Not when your simple company made his days brighter. It was those little moments that made him content, for every smile he wrung from your reserved character, Jing Yuan would promise to himself to slay a hundred more denizens of Abundance.
Jing Yuan took all of Jingliu’s strikes with stride, a confidence overflowing on the field. If he could take on his master, surely, he could slay 300 (he made you smile three times. so naturally, this amount would suffice.) abominations all at once. His glave—the very one Yingxing made for him— was put to use.
A slight thrum of pride made itself known in Yingxing’s chest. But as much as Yingxing enjoyed watching Jing Yuan getting beaten up, there was another presence he couldn’t ignore.
You.
Again, close enough to be seen, far enough to be out of reach.
Jing Yuan thought it’d be a good idea to bring you along. Neither Yingxing or Dan Feng complained. It wasn’t that uncommon for a few… outsiders to be around during their sessions. So long as they didn’t disturb the peace. Your presence was accepted anyway. Besides, he deeply enjoyed seeing that look on their faces. One of acceptance and longing. He knew they wanted to get to know you, he knew he had all the power of having you to himself. And he liked it. (He did not know that look was also for him. He did not think of himself that highly, to have the attention of his older comrades).
Only, Jingliu did not care about your arrival. Her focus was set on Jing Yuan. Baiheng however, was more than eager to have another Foxian on board.
“He’s like an eager puppy.” Yingxing sighed. No matter what Jing Yuan did, it would never be subtle. Every successful block, a glance given to the fox. Every hit, another. He was looking for approval from a man who probably didn’t know how to spar. Yingxing would know. One look at your hands, seeing the unblemished, delicate skin, he knew you were not meant for the harder labours of life.
Jing Yuan decided to pass by the Artisan Commission that day. To bother him, he imagined. That man enjoyed doing that too much. Spending his past time disrupting Yingxing's instead of doing something actually important. He was about to tell Jing Yuan off, tell him to leave him alone and annoy someone else with his pesky presence, when he spotted the tip of a Foxian's ears popping up behind his shoulders.
For the first time in a long while, Yingxing was stunned. He remembers Dan Feng describing you in passing, during their private meetings. He couldn't believe that a man so handsome would ever be on the Luofu, but he knew Dan Feng. And Dan Feng was not a liar.
Yingxing was pleasantly proven right.
But seeing you next to Jing Yuan, someone hardened by training and expectations, was a unique sight. He was taller, just by the tiniest bit, made that stubborn heart of his beat erratically. A soft-looking Foxian next to pure mass and muscle.
Maybe you were meant to be... delicate.
Perhaps that’s why you always had that distant look in your eyes. Maybe beneath that melancholy exterior, that icy fog, you were just dreaming of a place faraway from the grasp of Xianzhou. Somewhere not attacked by outsiders, forcing the alliance to share their secret to immortality. Somewhere safe. Like Jing Yuan.
“Well, if I had a pretty fox following me around, I’d be the same way!” Baiheng cheered, her tail wagging.
Yingxing's mind went elsewhere at the word pretty. Was that the word to describe you? He thought handsome would be more fitting. But thinking over it, both suited you quite well. Not that he would ever admit. You were no finely made sword he crafted. He huffed.
Dan Feng sighed. There was no doubt Baiheng was incredibly eager to get to know you. He couldn’t lie, all of them were. But Jing Yuan has been keeping you out of arms reach. It felt like he was dangling a precious gem for them to oogle at.
“Alright, enough with the fox. I’m sure Yuan will introduce him to us sooner or later.” Dan Feng crossed his arms, his striking gaze moving back and forth from the absolute unit crossing swords with his master, his long white hair that looked like an unkempt chicken nest flowing in the wind, to the silent yet ever constant presence that watched from the sidelines.
They would take you apart eventually. Nitpick and examine every crevice of you, your mind and soul, and if your pieces did not fit with theirs…
Unspeakable.
They would make it fit.
Yingxing and Dan Feng shared many things.
Their brash personality, for instance. Though in varying degrees: both of them came off rather blunt. Dan Feng’s words were calculated, made to strike where it hurt most. Yingxing was more of a brute. He said what came to mind and had no shame in it.
They’ve shared wine under the moon. A moment that turned their relationship around entirely. An intimate moment for themselves, when their hearts started beating differently for each other.
The matching bracers they wore, crafted by none other than Yingxing.
Jing Yuan.
They would have no problem sharing you, as well.
It was clear (no matter how much they wanted to deny it) that you… interested them, per say. Usually, such an oblivious personality irritated them both, but whatever it was that made Jing Yuan happy, made them happy. And your visage only helped to amplify these feelings. It was only when Jing Yuan trudged towards them—you inexplicably in tow—did they snap out of their stupors.
“Yingxing, Dan Feng,” Jing Yuan greeted. A slight huff to his words, chest rising and falling with tire in his physique. Handsome as always. “Hah. I would normally apologize for troubling you both with my adventures, but I’m afraid I have no reason to be. For if I was sorry, it means my dear friends' presence and company have not been fulfilling.”
He gestures to you, just three steps away from the Cloud Knight. “I suppose it’s time for introductions. Properly.” Jing Yuan offers you a kind smile, urging you to get closer. His eyes softened as if he was trying to tell you his friends didn’t bite.
And you did. Because Jing Yuan had no need to lie to you. For the past weeks you've been around him, he has been nothing but kind. You didn't have any close friends, not with your closed off nature. But that was fine. You had Jing Yuan. And he had you.
“This is my… friend. You’ve seen him every now and then, yeah? He’s a Foxian—” whatever it was Jing Yuan was saying ended up entering one ear, and leaving through the other. Neither man could focus. Not when you were so close. For the long lives they’ve been living, truly, no face could compare to yours.
There were plenty of good looking Foxians. Naturally mischievous beings, with a nature of trickery. Thrilling. They wondered, if they cleared that fog—that mist that kept you shrouded, would you be the same?
Xianzhou natives were charming and good-looking, and the Vidyadhara had a rare look to them none could replicate. So what in Lan’s name did you have to make you so special?
Whatever it was, they were sure they had enough time to figure it out.
Right?
Notes ... im sorry this took me so long to publish, i've been busy with college applications. this is kinda buns but i hope you guys enjoyed, it's only going downhill from here! ^^ taglist: @csys22 @gaozorous-rex-blog @ash4ree @tehyunnie @pip4everr @syxxtrey i couldn't tag some of you, sorry!
Lone Wolf Assassin MaleOmega!Reader x Feral Alpha Cleric: Part 2
Part 1- Omegaverse Masterlist
So I did have an oc at one point named Varin that I kinda just abandoned so I’m reusing the name here; they’re not related tho. I just really like the name
New CWs: p in v, reader has a vagina and a penis, brief mentions of a priest kink, clothes humping, references to breeding/knotting, anal sex, anal fingering, blowjob (receiving) creampie. Shoutout to everyone who voted in the poll at the end of part 1! Thank u :D
“I…” the man sputtered between breaths. “I suppose I should tell you my name. Since we’ll be spending so much time together.”
Your body had outrun your mind, the man you were supposed to be working with had cum all over your chest. Your face and skin warm were warm to the touch, your heart racing.
You couldn’t help but be annoyed with yourself.
You told him your name and nothing more, standing up to find a towel. You knew the more you talked to him now, the more awkward things would be later on.
“What’s the rush?” He teased, sitting up as he watched you move about the room.
You were burning up; you might’ve cum, but your heat required much, much more in order to be quelled. “This was a bad idea,” you mumbled under your breath. “It’ll take nearly two weeks to get to the city. Then two weeks to get back.“
Maybe my heat will be done by then, but…that’s still a week of confinement with him.
“Sure, but…not sure what that’s got to do with right now. My name’s Varin, by the way,” he said as he relaxed into the bed, not appearing all that concerned.
Truthfully, his name was the least of your worries. Your heat wasn’t going to get any better, and now…now it would almost certainly get worse.
You wiped yourself off, throwing the towel to the side and pacing around the room in a panic.
I probably look like a fool.
You let out a sigh. Even if you knew he’d find out about your heat eventually, you couldn’t bring yourself to admit it.
I’ve dealt with it alone before. I can deal with it myself just fine. Then again, those times I didn’t have an alpha right beside me. An alpha who I had nearly slept with.
Varin’s eyes followed you with unwavering curiosity. “You uh…you alright?”
You paused.
I definitely look like a fool.
“I…” you stumbled, scratching the back of your neck as you awkwardly looked back at him. “I’m fine. Just, thinking, that’s all.” You slowly approached the bed, getting inside with the hope of not touching him.
“What about?”
“Well…this uh, this does make things a bit awkward. Considering we’re going to need to work together.”
“I don’t think it does,” he shrugged, his hands behind his head as he relaxed. “Everyone needs something to pass the time.
You scoffed, “pass the time?”
“Sure,” he shrugged. “You know,” he reached down to fish a long pipe from his bag, followed by a pouch you assumed to be filled with tobacco. “Plenty of other species just fuck for fun,” he said as he snapped his fingers together, a flame appearing at the end of his thumb. “Like the Fey. Just have to be…mindful. That’s all.”
You rolled your eyes. “Right. Mindful. How well traveled you are,” you mumbled sarcastically, getting back into bed. “Do regale me with your tales of Fey sex parties, I’m sure they must be thrilling.”
He didn’t seem to pick-up on your sarcasm. “Not really. They’re a bit boring, honestly. Not a lot of variety,” he took a drag from the pipe, blowing smoke into the air away from you. “Not to mention the wings getting in the way.”
You turned away, your back facing him. “This was fun and all, but I’m going to bed,” you pulled the blankets over you despite the building warmth.
The man shrugged, smoke continuing to fill the air. “Suit yourself.”
————————————————————————
You didn’t care that it was before sunrise. You had questions.
As soon as you had woken up, you had marched down to the innkeeper’s room, banging on her door. The sex might’ve been fun, but that didn’t change the fact she had assigned you a job without telling you, told a stranger you were an omega, and essentially gave you a chaperone.
A very nice-looking chaperone, but a chaperone nonetheless.
She opened the door slowly, rubbing her eyes, still wearing a fluffy silk robe. “I told you, breakfast isn’t until…oh.”
You wasted no time. “What’s going on? Why is there a man in my room? Telling me about a job I haven’t heard anything about? Saying he’s to escort me?”
Maybe he hadn’t said that exactly, but you were pissed.
She let out a sigh. “Right. Listen, I meant to tell you, but things got a bit out of hand last night.” She opened the door slightly wider, “come.”
As angry as you were, you obeyed her command, following her towards her desk. The innkeeper’s room always smelled like her, the scent of vanilla and coffee flooding your nostrils as you passed by her bed; certainly not an uncommon scent for a female alpha, and thankfully one that didn’t irritate your senses.
She sat down, looking over a mess of papers on her desk before plucking one from the pile. “Here.”
You took the paper from her, reading over it carefully.
‘Dr. Drakarius Thorn: Aged 61, omega in fair health other than afflicted with Lycavirus, but is reported to have the disease under control. Unlikely to be armed, but is currently monitored by mercenaries hired by his place of employment.
At the request of the client, please secure not only his death, but as much of his research documentation as possible.’
You looked back up at the innkeeper, watching as she snacked on grapes from a nearby bowl. “This man. Is he researching the Disease?”
“Don’t know,” she shrugged. “Wouldn’t surprise me, given the request. I’m sure any information on that is a hot commodity.”
“Client might be wanting to take credit for his work,” you thought out-loud.
“Maybe. It’ll be tough, I’ll admit that. But I wouldn’t have given you the job if I didn’t think you could handle it.”
“Well, giving me some alpha to follow me around sounds like you think I can’t handle it,” you sneered.
She held her head in her hands. “I know this looks bad. But every major city up North has tightened their security lately. They’re not letting omegas in alone. Period.”
“I can lie,” you quickly retorted, opening your mouth wider to reveal your freshly sharpened fangs. “I don’t do all this for nothing.”
“Don’t be silly,” she scoffed. “I could smell you before you even pounded on the door. You reek of pheromones.”
You frowned. “Well, maybe that wouldn’t be an issue if you had gotten me back in with the medicine lady.” The last few times the elusive ‘medicine lady’ had been in town, you had been off on a job. Perhaps you could’ve been a bit more persistent about finding a suppressant spell, but…it had admittedly slipped your mind until now; when the damage had already been done.
“She comes and goes as she pleases, you know that. There are other priests and healers out there, you’re free to seek them out,” she waved her hand around as she spoke. “Hell, you could try asking your new roommate-”
“No.” You cut her off before she could say anymore. “Besides, his sense of smell is all messed up.”
“That’s exactly why I figured he’d be best to go with you. No worries of any funny business if he can’t smell you.”
About that…
You decided against even implying anything had happened between you two, speaking before you had finished your thought. “But that might…if he can’t smell…” you only realized mid-sentence that your excuse made no sense. “That might mess with…with the magic…” you trailed off.
The innkeeper looked unimpressed. “Right. Suit yourself. But as you said, he has no sense of smell. You’ll be fine. Get through this job, come back, you’ll go your separate ways, and then you’ll get through your heat. Alright? I know it isn’t ideal, but this is a time-sensitive job,” she pointed back to the paper. “And the pay accounts for it.”
You looked back down at the paper. 10,000 gold, 6,000 after the innkeeper took her cut. Suddenly, the job seemed far more appealing.
I won’t need to work for months. Maybe even a year if I’m smart.
“Any other questions?” She asked, leaning over the desk. “I can keep an ear out, see if any other healers pass through.”
“No, that’s…” you stood up. “That’s fine.”
There is no way I am getting him to fix this.
————————————————————————
You walked back up to your room, opening the door to find Varin getting ready. He was fully-dressed below the belt, yet hadn’t put on the robes quite yet.
You couldn’t help but stare at his chest; defined, yet not overly so, his stomach and pectoral muscles covered in dark hair.
I could probably fit my face between them.
“Something on your mind?” Varin asked, the slight smile on his face making it clear he was teasing you.
You leaned in the doorway, looking down at the floor to hide the sudden embarrassment. “Oh, not much. I mean, no, just…well, wondering what kind of priest-doctor-whatever gets into bar-fights. That is what you are, right?”
He reached for a light colored shirt, slipping it on to your disappointment. “…In a way, yes.”
“In a way?” You repeated.
He shrugged, picking up the robes off the floor and dusting them off, the sun’s morning rays shining over every imperfection. “My power comes from the Mother God and the Hunter. I worship them, as all good Besstkin should,” he said in a light-hearted tone, one that might’ve even been sarcastic.
Even if it was clear he was joking, you couldn’t help but roll your eyes.
“But,” he continued, “I have no congregation, no church, nothing like that, least not anymore.”
You raised an eyebrow. “Not anymore?”
“At one point I was a priest for my pack, and some of the neighboring packs nearby. It…” he shrugged. “It was fine. But I don’t like staying in one place for too long. These days, I simply go where I please, and help who I can.”
“How lovely,” you tilted your head to the side. “And how exactly did you help the man who busted your face open last night?”
“Attitude adjustment,” he smiled, reaching down to lace-up his boots. “Just, minor disagreement. That’s all,” he hummed, your previous night together clearly leaving him in good spirits.
“So if you’re a priest, am I supposed to be calling you something? Like a title or whatnot?” You said as you walked back inside, surveying the room to ensure you hadn’t forgotten anything. Yet despite your casual demeanor, his scent seemed to grow only stronger, and you couldn’t help but feel a warmth between your legs.
“I’ve had people address me as Father Varin in the past, but I don’t expect you to do that,” he laughed.
Immediately, your mind jumped to you on your knees, his hands holding your head as you sucked him off. “Yes father, please…” you would say, his precum on your tongue. You could feel your cock twitch at the thought, body growing warmer.
Stop that.
“Well, good,” you sighed, looking back at him. “Because I am definitely not calling you that.”
———————————————————————————
You both finished gathering your things and headed out, already noon by the time you made it out of town.
The journey after that went as you expected; boring.
The path seemed never-ending, the scenery repetitive visions of verdant green hills; hills you had seen many, many times by now.
Despite all that had happened, your new companion seemed eager to make conversation. You obliged; at least it’d make the time go faster.
“So, how does one get into your line of work?” He asked, holding his hands behind his head as you walked down the path.
You scoffed, “that’s not really something you ask.”
“Well, I just did.”
You let out a sigh. “I…alright, I was always good with a bow, and I liked hunting. It just, fell into my lap, I suppose.” You only shared what felt necessary; no need to give extra details. “You’re not going to give me some spiel on right and wrong, are you?” Admittedly, you worried a criminal traveling with a priest could cause some conflict.
“No. Was just curious, that’s all. We were made to hunt, and that’s what you do.”
You managed to relax a bit after learning he wasn’t going to judge you.
Hours passed as your approached night fall, the conversations mundane, yet still interesting enough to keep you from growing weary. You found your way to a clearing, the sun just about to set.
“We should make camp here,” you remarked, surveying the area. It appeared fairly empty, the only scents you were able to pick-up belonging to deer and rabbits; and your companion, of course. Even if the darkness didn’t obscure your vision, you were tired.
“Fine with me,” he sighed, settings his things down. The two of you made camp, making a fire and setting out bedrolls.
When it finally came time to sleep, you couldn’t help but feel…cold. Goosebumps formed on your skin, the fire’s heat radiating against your skin doing little. The only place you felt warmth was between your legs, The bedroll wasn’t nearly enough, leaving you feeling vulnerable and exposed.
This was a pitiful attempt at a nest, if one could even call it that.
I can’t tell if I want to get fucked or if I want to cry or both, you thought, holding your legs close to your chest underneath the bedroll, trying to make yourself as small as you could. You weren’t meant to be out in the woods, you were meant to be in your nest.
That stupid inn was the closest thing to home, and now, you weren’t sure how long it had been since you had gone through a heat without it. You had no mate, and no longer any family, the only scent that had provided you comfort in the past being the wooden walls of the inn.
You could feel slick trailing down your legs, your mind a myriad of emotions. You wanted to feel safe. You wanted to feel comfortable. You also could not stop thinking about Varin’s cock.
I don’t know him. He can’t smell me, but if I let him…
Your cock grew hard, your pussy dripping underneath. Lewd thoughts were impossible to ignore; the thought of him fucking you, breeding you, even. Your heat hadn’t even started, but once you had gotten a taste last night, it was all you could think about.
Building a nest out in the wilderness would be impossible. No blankets, no pillows; just a fur bedroll and praying you could control yourself; an action that you knew would be futile in the end.
Instead, you found yourself staring at not Varin, but at his priest robes, this time neatly folded beside him. They looked so soft, your body desperate to inhale more of their smell.
Rational thought was a fantasy by now, your body yearning to feel full, yearning to be bred. You slowly pulled yourself from the bedroll.
I need to borrow them. Just for a moment.
With all the energy you could muster, you snatched the folded robes, holding them close to your chest and burying your face into the fabric. The scent was intoxicating, like a drink of cold water after spending days in the desert. You didn’t even realize you were essentially humping the air.
Small whimpers escaped your lips; a mating call your nest typically helped you suppress. There, you could bury your face into a pillow, the noises few and far between, and pleasure yourself until it passed. Here, the noises seemed constant, growing louder, your body wanting nothing more than to awake the alpha beside you, and invite him to ravage your body.
His robes unfolded, and you bit them, tasting his scent on your tongue as you grinded against the fabric. Your cries were quickly turning into howls, barely muffled by his robes.
“You’re in heat, aren’t you?”
You stopped, and just as before, that damn priest was staring back at you, hard cock in hand, watching.
How did I not notice him wake-up?
“I…” you couldn’t formulate a response, your eyes fixated on the knot at the base of his cock. “You can smell me?”
I need it.
“No, but it’s fairly obvious,” he laughed. “I feel like I should be upset,” he said, slowly pumping his cock back and forth. “Being sent out with an omega in heat. That’s certainly irresponsible, isn’t it?“
You didn’t care anymore, continuing to grind against his robes, the fabric soft against your cock. You nodded your head, but only let out a moan.
“It’s a good thing I can’t smell you. Much easier to practice restraint like this,” he smiled, moving out of his bed roll and kneeling over you, his cock hard and heavy.
Please please please fuck me.
He refrained from touching you. “I could come next to you. Do what we did last night. Or, I could just stay right here, and watch.”
You moved faster, staring at the tip of his cock. “…watch?” You barely managed to get the word out.
“Of course. What, did you think I’d be mad? After last night?”
You bit your lip, stifling another moan before you spoke. “…maybe.”
He smiled, leaning closer, his lips inches from yours as he let out another soft laugh. “No. No, I’m not mad. Why would I be mad to see a cute omega fucking my clothes? With that desperate little look on your face?Almost looks like you want something.”
You did. You finally pulled away from his robes, lying flat on your back and spreading your legs. Your cock stood straight up, your eager, soaked pussy fully on display.
“It is tempting,” he said, rubbing the tip of his cock against your entrance. You could feel slick drip from your pussy to your asshole, you were already soaked. “But…I’m not sure if that’s a risk you’re willing to take.”
It’d be stupid to let him knot you.
But it was stupid to kiss him, stupid to feel his cock against yours, stupid to lay here like an idiot with your legs spread.
“Just…just stop before the knot,” you sputtered, as if you were admitting defeat. “Just don’t knot me.”
“But you want me to fuck you?”
You nodded, “yes.”
He rested a hand on your knee. “Tell me. What do you want me to do to you?”
You couldn’t help yourself, unable to stand going untouched any longer as you furiously started to stroke your cock. “Please fuck me. Please.”
He grinned, “if you insist.”
He slowly pushed his cock inside you, and immediately you tightened against him. Your body knew what to do, what it wanted, what it needed.
You could feel every inch, eventually feeling the base of his knot push against your lips.
More, more, more…you thought. When was the last time you had been knotted? Feeling it so close, smelling it; it was impossible to resist.
Yet he obeyed your request, starting to move back and forth. With each thrust you felt his knot brush against your lips, its presence taunting you.
You listened to him moan, “Gods, you’re tight.” He leaned down, pulling you closer to kiss you. His tongue brushed against yours as he increased his pace. With each thrust, his cock seemed to slide in faster, easier; maybe, just maybe if you were lucky, he’d lose control.
I want it.
The idea was riveting, despite knowing better. The thought only brought you closer to ecstasy, watching sweat form at his brow as he plowed into you. You wrapped your arms around his neck, gripping him tighter and tighter, feeling yourself getting close.
You felt his knot once more, and could hold back no longer, cumming all over his cock.
Despite how tightly you gripped him, he pulled out of you, his knot still relatively untouched. He watched as you writhed underneath him, body shaking from your orgasm, your pussy gaped open.
You closed your eyes several times, almost feeling like you’d pass out from pleasure.
“Feel better?” He asked, petting your head.
“I don’t know…” you mumbled, your mind an incoherent mess, drunk on lust. “I…wait, did…”
He was still hard, a pleased expression on his face as he looked down at you. It was as if he was content to just watch you squirm.
“You didn’t cum, that’s not fair,” you rasped.
“I’ll be alright,” he kissed the top of your forehead, the encounter almost feeling romantic.
You let out a groan, “that’s not fair, I…”
Well, I suppose he can knot me somewhere else.
You pulled your legs back, fully exposing yourself to him as you ran your finger over your asshole, the skin around it sensitive and wet with slick. “Knot me here.”
He paused, genuinely surprised as he looked you up and down. “…You just don’t know when to quit, do you?”
“No,” you couldn’t help yourself, teasing yourself with the tip of your finger. “I’m just…considerate, that’s all.”
He grabbed your wrist, moving your hand away and replacing it with his own. He first pushed two fingers inside your pussy, slick covering it effortlessly. Then, he slide the tip of one finger slowly into your asshole.
“Look at you, all relaxed,” he praised.
You felt his finger move deeper, approaching your prostate. “You…you could fuck me right now, I bet,” you mumbled between breaths, wanting nothing more than for him to split you apart.
“I could. But I’m not going to.” He continued to finger you, now leaning down and taking your cock into his mouth.
You gasped, grabbing his hair as you felt his tongue swirl around the tip, his mouth moving back and forth as he began to tease another finger. If he kept this up, you just might cum again.
He pushed another finger inside, your body shaking as he brushed against your prostate. He moved faster, sucking your cock diligently as you stretched out against his fingers; with how horny you were, preparing you was an easy task.
I’m going to cry, I can’t handle this.
You started to whimper, moans blending into each other. He finally pulled away, rubbing the head of his cock against your asshole. “Sure you can take it?”
You nodded your head vigorously. “I can, just…please.”
He gripped at your thighs, pulling you closer as you felt each inch of him push inside you. He slowly began to thrust back and forth, giving you time to adjust. You breathed heavily, managing to stay relaxed as he the knot approached your asshole.
“Still alright?”
“Yes!” You were almost annoyed. “Yes, just fuck me already!”
And so he did, gradually increasing his pace. Only this time, he didn’t hold back.
There was no reason for him to, pounding into your asshole with little abandon, each thrust better than the last.
“Fuck…” he grunted, the sound of skin against skin echoing through the forest, the soft breeze a welcome reprieve from the intense warmth inside you. His fingernails dug into your skin, and you wrapped his arms around his neck once more.
Another thrust, this one harder than the other, and you felt your hole stretch against his knot. You let out a whimper, but Gods, did you want it.
“Still…still want me to knot you?” He asked between breaths.
“I can take it, do it!” You begged, the pleasure so overwhelming you feared you might really pass out.
He thrust once more, pushing the knot deep inside you. You moaned and squirmed, your voice nothing more than a collection of raspy whimpers.
You could feel him cum inside you, watching as he tossed his head back with pleasure. Yet he still didn’t neglect you, rubbing your cock as he bred your ass.
The feeling of him playing with you, the feeling of warm cum filling you up, it was too much. For the second time, you came, your body entirely at his mercy.
You both stared at each other, watching as his shoulders rose and fell.
“We…we should get cleaned up,” he mumbled, lying down beside you and looking just as exhausted as you were.
“We should, but…” you looked up at the sky, watching the stars above. “Let’s just stay like this for a bit .”
And so you stayed there, laying beside him and mindlessly watching the stars. Eventually, you’d work up the will to stand, get cleaned up, and head to bed. A long day awaited you, after all.
Yet for now, there was no reason to rush.
The double feature anatomy looks like it’ll win the poll; thank you everyone for voting! I love omegaverse, but I also am like. I don’t know, if we’re gonna have mpreg, I like to think it through, and I was willing to do the cloaca bit, but the people have spoken.
Also a g spot AND a prostate? The kind of greed you only see in the bible. Does that work anatomically? Idk. Maybe. Sure. Why not. Fuck it.
But yeah, I have plans!! Plot plans and smut plans!! Reader is gonna kill people and be bouncin on it hell yeaaaaaaaa
Anyway I also found making polls helps me feel more validated with writing and keeps me excited cause I like knowing people’s thoughts so
A/n: (Y/n) Zatara. Son of Giovanni Zatara, brother to Zatanna Zatara, beloved friend of the Justice League. Also the axis on which reality turns, the balance by which creation weighs itself. (Y/n) Zatara, the Scarlet Witch, a being of unfathomable power, condensed into human shape.
Warnings: A/B/O dynamics (male reader is an omega, Clark Kent is an alpha), Graphic violence, Gore, Body Horror, Character Death, Mind Control, Body Manipulation, Child Injury (Done to (Y/n) in a flashback), Angst/Comfort
P.S: I had this in the tank for a while, please enjoy while I work on reqs 🫶🏽
Credits: banners/dividers are made by @/cafekitsune
The sulfurous scent of Hell fills the air and your lungs.
“John, why am I having to barter with another demon for your soul?” You ask unimpressed, arms crossed.
A nervous laugh leaves him. “Uh— ‘cause you care about me?”
“‘Sides ‘barter’ is a generous word for whatever you’re doing with him.” John snorts.
“I guess so.” You laugh, hand still glowing red.
Both of you watch as the demon tries and fails to put himself back together.
His body chases after his head, before falling apart at the joints once more.
“Take the human mongrel with you!” He snarls. “Just put me back together!”
His screech sounds like a cacophony of voices with no end or start.
“I’m not dumb,” You breathily laugh, “go ahead and cancel what contract you have with Constantine.”
When the demon hesitates, you lift your hand, the red glow getting brighter and meaner as you threaten him.
“Very well! John Constantine, I release you from your vow!” The demon snarls.
“There we go.” You whisper, your magic stringing the demon back together. “Word to the wise, avoid making deals with John Constantine.”
The demon vanishes in a puff of shadow and smoke, the air still reeking of sulfur and brimstone.
“Aye, cheers’ mate, thanks for helping.” John chirps.
You barely hear him as your attention is pulled elsewhere.
Back in your home dimension, right on Earth, you could feel the fabric of reality tearing apart.
“John stop talking.” You grit out, eyes narrowing as your consciousness tries to home in on the disturbance.
“That’s bloody rude of ya.” John scoffs. “Anyways mate—“
John’s eyes widen as his mouth disappears.
“I said stop talking.” Your voice loses all friendliness and pretense.
John starts to sweat seeing your magic coil around you in wisps, like a cobra’s tail rattling.
You continue to refine your focus until your consciousness locks onto Metropolis.
“What the fuck is Clark doing?” You groan loudly.
John makes a muffled sound that vaguely resembles a ‘what’s going on?’.
“Lex Luthor’s cheap imitation of a boom tube is causing a tear in my domain.” Your fingers pinch the bridge of your nose.
You sigh heavily.
More annoyed and put off than anything else.
“I’m gonna kill him.” You say pragmatically. “If that rip in space-time doesn’t do it for me, that is.”
John makes another pathetic sound.
With another red wisp John’s lips unfuse, he takes a deep breath through his mouth.
“Bloody ‘ell mate, just tell me it’s serious next time.” He struggles to get his breathing under control.
“John when have I ever not entertained you?” You shake your head. “If I’m asking you to stop talking, that should be sign enough.”
“Let’s go.” You say, as your red magic punches a hole through time and space.
The edges warble, crackling like static and lightning.
You both walk through, the sun shining and blinding as Metropolis opens up, coming into view.
The world shifts beneath your feet, depositing you and John on the roof of the tallest building giving you the best view of the mayhem.
“You…you don’t need me ‘ere for this do ya?” John can’t meet your eyes. “This is more your jurisdiction than it is mine anyways…”
“Yeah.” You snort. “Yeah, go on get a head start on tomorrow’s hangover.” You wave him off.
John gives a sheepish wave back as you tear open a portal under his feet.
You don’t hear his parting words as he falls through.
You sigh softly.
You rest your head against your fist, a small smile on your face.
You’re hyper focused on the way Clark’s muscles ripple just underneath his suit.
You shake your head when you realize you’re swooning over Superman.
Not exactly new, but you’re here in an official capacity.
You wince as Ultraman gives Clark a run for his money.
Even as Clark gets his ass kicked he doesn’t give up.
The fight rages on, completely consuming your attention, until you feel a hum, a slight distortion in the air.
“Hey Zee.” You say, line of sight never breaking as Superman fights Ultraman.
Zatanna laughs as she rubs her cheek against yours, scenting you before she sits down next to you.
“I thought I felt you blip back here. Is today the day you tell him?” She wiggles her eyebrows.
“No, I’m here on business.” You chuckle.
“What business could you have in Metropolis, that doesn’t include Superman?” She asks raising an eyebrow.
“The kind that rips open reality.” You say pointing down to the giant multicolor divide in the city.
Zatanna’s throat works.
“What are you gonna do (Y/n)?” She asks softly.
“Well…” You lean forward, “I’ll see what happens…if Lex falls into that rift then nothing, but if he doesn’t then I’m wiping him out.”
“But this is Metropolis.” She says gently. “Clark is…he’s new so he doesn’t know the agreement you have with the league.” She whispers.
“This is his bad guy.” She adds.
“Not anymore.” You say unmoved. “Besides even if he is new, I’m sure they gave him a briefing of some kind.” You wave off her concerns.
You both watch as Superman finishes off Ultraman, tossing him into the tear in reality.
“Alright then, (Y/n).” Zatanna stands up.
“Latrop.” Her magic glows blue, opening a seam in the air.
“I’m heading home. Mom made your favorite.” She singsongs as goes through.
“See ‘ya.” You chirp.
Superman gives him one last look, before flying straight into LuthorCorp.
You raise an eyebrow. “Well Smallville, go ahead and show me what you’re made of.”
You hold your breath.
You have high hopes.
Had high hopes.
You sigh dramatically, shaking your head as you see Lex walk out.
Still breathing, still unfortunately alive, just in handcuffs.
You stand up, hand patting your clothes to get rid of any dust on them.
A swirling cloud of red smoke opens behind you.
You walk through, ending up back home.
The wards of the estate hum in a low register.
The soft blue light feels like home.
It’s warm, and always seems to greet you just as happily.
You walk through the estate, moving towards the lush gardens.
You smirk to yourself hearing a man’s voice in the kitchen.
“Hi Dad!” You greet.
You snort as he jumps.
“(Y/n) Zatara!” He chides. “You’re going to give me a heart attack.”
“You’re Giovanni Zatara, I’m sure— I know actually— a simple scare wouldn’t kill you.” You snicker, continuing to the garden.
The plants seem to bloom brighter as you walk past them.
You open your hands, letting your magic seep and permeate the grounds, rejuvenating the foliage.
You take a deep breath letting the crisp clean air fill your lungs.
You cross your legs.
You start to float upwards, stopping a few feet off the ground.
You slowly shut your eyes, as you hover in place.
You project your presence, your consciousness, into the very prison they’re holding Lex Luthor inside of.
You walk through the doors, phasing past the bulletproof glass and heavy steel.
“Hey, you can’t be here!” One of the guards yells.
“You shouldn’t be able to see me.” You think.
You don’t say anything, making intense eye contact.
The guard freezes, his eyes unfocus.
He twitches, making a choked sound.
Your head tilts to the side ever so slightly, staring him down as he tries to fight against the telepathic command, against your hypnosis.
“Bawk!” The guard screeches, arms folded back like wings.
He duck-walks before trying to peck at the imaginary seeds on the ground before him.
You walk right through the security holding Lex Luthor.
The other guards either ignore you, or cannot see you.
You keep walking until you’re face to face with the bald menace.
“God—“ Lex jumps in his cell, clearly annoyed at your presence.
His eyes scan over you.
His face scrunches up in disgust.
“Another meta that thinks he’s so much better than the rest of us normal people.” He snarls.
“No.” You say concisely. “I know I’m better than you. And you’re certainly not normal.”
“You don’t mess with the multiverse, especially when you don’t know what you’re doing.” You state.
Lex scoffs, shaking his head laughing at you.
“‘Don’t know what I’m doing?’” He parrots back. “I am the smartest man on the planet, probably in existence. What you saw was exactly what I wanted to happen.”
Your eyes go over his face, you can tell he’s lying.
He may have let it happen…but it wasn’t something he planned or willed into existence.
“Hmm, right.” You say unimpressed. “Anyways.”
Red smoke leaks from your being with no obvious source.
“What’s that?!” Lex screams scrambling back deeper into his cell.
You don’t answer, lips pressed into a thin line as the smoke enters Lex through his ears, nose, mouth, every open orifice.
In an instant he freezes, body shaking, trembling from the sheer weight of your magic.
You see his memories play out in milliseconds.
Every single thing he’s done from his birth, all the way to Superman, to cloning, and finally to invading Superman’s home.
You grit your teeth hard enough the concrete around you cracks soundlessly.
“W-what’re— y-you—“ He says strained.
A billion billion different iterations of himself flash across his mind.
His psyche shatters in countless fractals, conjoining incorrectly, before shattering again into even more pieces.
“You’re too dangerous to leave alone. If just one of you was willing to let the fabric of our universe unravel, ‘cause of some petty one-sided grudge against Superman…the whole lot of you are.” You say nonchalantly.
“Actually…some of you aren’t so bad.” You say conflicted. “You’re a hero in a different universe…”
“So I’m getting rid of every last one of you.” You shrug your shoulders. “Every Lex Luthor that would risk reality.”
Before Lex can beg for his life, your magic forces his head to twist around.
Bone and cartilage stretches and compresses before shattering.
Lex’s head does a complete 360°.
Blood trickles from his eyes and nose.
You take a step back, letting your magic surge and explode from the inside, sending countless pieces of Lex Luthor’s brain flying and painting his cell in him.
His body slumps forward, twitching occasionally on the ground.
You grimace as the blood pouring out from his neck touches your shoe.
You roll your eyes, before focusing on Lex’s signature across creation.
You start to feel every one of him across the multiverse slowly snuff out of existence.
When the last Lex Luthor that has ever risked his own universe has died, when every Lex Luthor that could’ve risked the fabric of reality has been prevented, your consciousness dissipates from the prison, immediately rejoining your physical body.
You slowly open your eyes.
You look down to the ground, you can still see the blood pool.
You shrug, clapping your hands together.
“Hey (Y/n)!” Zatanna peeks into the garden. “Thanks again for saving my boyfriend he said to tell you he owed you one.”
“S’no big deal, Constantine can be fun.” You snicker.
“I hope you’re hungry, mom just finished dinner.” She says happily, tugging you along with her.
Clark wakes up bright and early.
He stretches in bed sighing happily, before using his super speed to get ready for his work day in mere moments.
It’s only been a few weeks since Lex Luthor’s arrest.
Clark’s managed to clear his—Superman’s—name after seeing the rest of the video his Kryptonian parents sent him to Earth with.
He takes his time.
Being painfully human.
He rides the subway before walking to the Daily Planet with pep in his step.
“C-Clark.” Lois says shaken.
Lois pushes him into a private room that’s been in disuse for as long as she can remember.
“Hi, to you too Lois.” Clark chuckles. “What’s the matter?”
Clark’s face hardens seeing the sweat on her brow, the instability in her body, the way her heart pounds in her chest.
“It’s Lex Luthor.” She says softly. “Look.”
She holds up her phone playing the video the federal government has released.
“We’ll never truly know what happened to Lex Luthor, or who got to him.” The news anchor solemnly says.
“This is the only video evidence we’ve been given, and we have independently verified it has not been tampered with.” He says before letting the video play.
A guard speaks to someone, or something, before he seems to dissociate.
The guard shakes, before he drops down, mimicking the actions of a chicken.
The video cuts to Lex Luthor’s holding cell, clearly showing he’s speaking to someone despite there being no one else in the shot.
The rest is blurred just enough to be able to show it on the news, but Clark watches in horror as Lex’s head spins around before exploding.
Clark shuts Lois’ phone off.
He pulls his strength back at the last second, stopping himself from crushing her phone.
Clark’s face contorts into a horrified expression at what he saw.
“I have to do something.” Clark utters.
“Now Clark…just a second…” Lois hesitates. “Do you really?”
“Lex literally let a tear in reality travel all the way through Metropolis, and God knows how much farther it would’ve gone if you and Mister Terrific hadn’t stopped it.” She elaborates.
“Lois…” Clark says horrified and disappointed.
“I know!” She huffs. “I know it’s bad! But look at what he did to you, to the city!”
“He was a person…regardless of what he did to me, or our fine city.” Clark says hopeful. “He might’ve changed. He could’ve learned his lesson…now he’ll never get that.”
“Cover for me will you?” He asks, fire shining behind his eyes.
“Yeah. Sure, okay.” Lois utters leaving Clark alone.
He watches Lois leave, sighing heavily the moment the door closes.
Clark uses his super speed to quickly get out of the building before anyone spotted him.
He dons his Superman costume, before flying off to the Watchtower.
The doors open the moment he arrives, he waits for the hum of the airlock. Clark braces himself for the pressurization, before walking in all the way to the war room.
“Batman.” Clark says clipped.
“Superman.” Bruce answers.
“I take it you’ve seen the news.” Batman says, eyes never leaving Clark as he takes a seat.
“Superman, you know Guy Gardner, Wonder Woman, John Stewart, Martian Manhunter, The Flash, Zatanna Zatara, and Giovanni Zatara.” Bruce quickly introduces them all.
“Nice to meet all you nice folks.” Clark smiles before turning back to Bruce.
“How long did you know?” Clark asks hurt.
“The Watchtower’s sensors picked something up approximately two weeks ago.” Bruce starts. “A disturbance in the multiverse, inexplicable ripples, that left no consequences.”
“We knew Lex Luthor was dead before the news did.” He admits.
“And you didn’t think to tell me?” Clark whispers.
“The government reached out to us to assess.” Bruce hesitates. “And we did.”
A silence falls across the room.
One that only seems to bother Clark.
“We decided it wasn’t worth intervening, once we saw what— or rather who— caused Lex Luthor’s death.” He says pragmatically.
“You mean his killer.” Clark snaps. “Don’t speak about Lex’s murderer like they’re untouchable. Like they’re just a climate event we need to survive.”
“In this case I’d wager he is.” Bruce says dismissively.
“Play the video. I know the cameras the Watchtower uses are leagues better than what anyone can get on earth.” Clark demands.
“Very well, but do not, I repeat, do not go picking a fight with the man in the video.” Bruce almost sounds like he’s pleading.
The keyboard clicks rhythmically as Bruce pulls up the video.
The moment it fully loads, Clark is already on the edge of his seat.
The censorship is gone, and now a man is on screen where he wasn’t before.
Clark’s eyes widen as he finally eyes Lex’s killer. “Freeze frame.”
There you are on video.
Standing over Lex’s corpse, looking entirely unfazed.
“Him. He killed him.” He utters.
“He did.” Bruce doesn’t disagree.
“We need to bring him in.” Clark asserts.
He looks around hoping the League will side with him.
“I won’t be helping.” Bruce states.
“Me neither.” Wally echoes.
Guy shakes his head. “Listen Supes, you’d be in over your head.”
“Superman, we’ve only just met, but I would urge you towards caution.” Diana says regally.
“Count us out.” Giovanni says, looking to his daughter.
They both share a look.
They knew you’d do something like this, but neither expected you to be so brazen about it.
“Yeah Superman, good luck if you go after him.” Zatanna adds, leaning back in her seat, arms crossed.
“John Stewart? Martian Manhunter?” Clark asks softly.
“Sorry Big Blue, good luck.” John says with a laugh.
“I refuse.” Martian Manhunter says without elaborating.
“Fine. I’ll bring him in myself.” Clark whispers turning on his heel.
Clark’s cape whips dramatically. “Where is he?”
“Right now?” Bruce says unimpressed. “The map readings say Metropolis.”
Clark’s eyes widen, nearly bulging out of his head.
In an instant he’s gone, blitzing down and coming to a sudden stop in Metropolis airspace.
Clark squints his eyes scanning the city.
He stops when he spots the same face from the security cams, just lounging, having a drink outside a cafe.
He flies forward until he’s hovering overhead, just high enough to lord over where you sit.
“Hey.” You say calmly.
You blow a small stream of air, cooling your drink before taking another sip.
You sigh contentedly.
“Is that all you have to say?” Clark seethes.
“Usually people introduce themselves when speaking to someone they haven’t met yet.” You say sternly, lacing your fingers together as your eyes meet his.
“Clark…”
Superman’s eyes widen.
He heard your voice by his ears.
He felt the warmth of your breath brush against his skin.
His head snaps around, but no one seems to be reacting to his human name.
Your voice was carried straight to him by the wind, your magic, or telepathy, he doesn’t know.
“I’m Superman. As you might well know.” He says strongly.
“Nice to meet ya, I’m (Y/n). (Y/n) Zatara.” You introduce yourself, smirking and holding back a laugh at the incredulous look on Superman’s face.
“You’re related to Giovanni and Zatanna.” He states incredulously.
“Yeah. My Dad and sister.” You give him a look. “I don’t really need the family tree lesson Boy Scout.”
“They’re heroes…” He murmurs.
“So am I. In a sense I guess. It’s a family business really—”
“No, you’re not.” Clark immediately rebuffs.
You raise an eyebrow. “Oh? And what makes you the judge of that?”
“What you did to Lex Luthor…” Clark’s hands tighten into fists, “no hero would’ve done that.”
“Maybe none of you all would, but I would. I did. That’s what sets us apart.” You argue.
“He trampled into my domain Superman.” You stand up, getting agitated.
Your scarlet magic wisps together coiling like snakes before falling back into your being.
“He got what he deserved for fucking with the fabric of reality.” You snarl, slamming your hands down onto the table, sending a red shockwave at Superman.
His eyes widen, he braces for impact but the moment it touches him the shockwave shifts into red bubbles, each popping on their own.
“I don’t want to fight you.” Clark admits, he can smell your sweet scent from where he is. “But I’m taking you in one way or another.”
“Oh?” You laugh again, insultingly, mockingly. “And how will you accomplish that?”
Clark uses his super speed, trying to blitz behind you and hold you in a bear hug.
He thinks— he’s convinced if he’s moving fast enough you won’t see him.
If he’s fast enough you won’t be able to counter with a spell before he touches you.
His arms lock around your midriff, but they crash into each other, instead of locking you down.
Clark’s eyes dart around, to the ground, to his sides, before they find you now floating where he was.
“I had you…” He murmurs.
“Gonna have to move a lot faster than that to get the drop on me.” You say.
Your magic condenses in your hand, before you fire an energy blast at him.
The scarlet blast hits Clark in the chest.
The people watching gasp in horror, as Superman tumbles through countless buildings.
Before any of them can panic or react, they all freeze.
Each of them feels a wave of dread wash over them as a pair of hands land on their shoulders.
Behind every single bystander, countless projections of you appear behind each civilian.
You lean in close.
Close enough they can all feel the warmth of your breath breaking against their skin.
“Ruuuun.” You drawl, before fading away from their perception.
Their voices form a maelstrom, all screaming, as they run away from the epicenter.
“Superman is fighting (Y/n).” Bruce sighs.
“Oh god.” Zatanna softly says. “Dad, let’s get down there.”
“It’s Superman.” Giovanni waves her off. “I’m sure he can handle what (Y/n) throws at him.”
“And that’s exactly why we need to get down there.” She stresses. “(Y/n) will know, he’ll feel how much Superman can take before breaking, and it’ll be a whole lot more than the city can handle.”
Zatanna starts whispering a transportation spell.
Giovanni’s eyes widen, his expression tightens.
“God you’re right…he’s grown into himself with restraint…but he isn’t one to pull his punches if attacked first.” Giovanni murmurs, getting up and moving to Zatanna’s side.
“Keep comms open.” Bruce orders without looking at them.
He lowers the universal star map, turning all sensors to high.
“You’re worried Batman.” Diana laughs.
“I don’t know why you aren’t.” He counters.
“Because I know him.” Diana says fondly.
Your eyes quickly dart around, making sure all civilians are gone from the immediate area.
You close your eyes, picturing the city block you’re fighting on.
You can feel every pulse, hear every heartbeat, see the warmth of each body present.
“No signs of life other than him and me.” You smile to yourself.
Your eyes snap open as you hear stone and concrete shattering as Superman shoots out of the rubble.
He flies straight at you, arms extended, hands clenched into fists.
You just smirk, bringing your hand up, and snapping.
Clark disregards it, but suddenly he’s flying downward.
He keeps telling his body up, but he only goes down quicker.
He moves left when he intends right, and vice versa.
He struggles to get the hang of it, but manages to shakily fly back up to your level.
“Sorcerer…using magic against me?” Clark snarls.
“Oh please. Like using your strength against someone physically weaker isn’t the same thing.” You scoff. “Besides, I’m just keeping the fun going.”
Clark’s lips twitch, at your words, he closes his eyes taking a breath.
You raise an eyebrow, you can feel it in the thrum of the air, in the fabric of reality something’s coming.
Clark’s eyes snap open, two beams of concentrated heat shoot out.
You groan, flipping backwards, as his heat vision hits you directly in your chest.
You come to a halt upside down, eyes bright and locked onto Superman.
“See, I knew you had more tricks.” You giggle.
You look down at your singed clothes and bright red flesh.
You make eye contact with Clark who looks smug at landing a hit.
Your eyebrows twitch, your hand smoothes down your chest leaving your shirt intact, like the laser beams never struck you.
“Betcha’ can’t do that again.” You goad.
Clark’s face cracks seeing you shake it off like nothing.
“Okay then.” He answers, before firing off another pair of beams.
Clark watches as your scarlet magic condenses in your hands, before you toss a black orb towards his lasers.
The hair on the back of Clark’s neck stands up.
A queasiness settling in his gut.
In an instant the black ball swells into a spiraling black hole, sucking in the lasers before they ever reached you.
Clark’s eyes widen, his instincts were already telling him you’re dangerous.
Now?
He’s sure you’re lethal at best.
And planetary destruction at worst.
The glass and buildings near it crumble as they’re sucked in before the black hole snaps out of existence.
Clark feels his muscles relax, the sweat from his brow disappear.
“Are you starting to understand you’re fighting someone above your weight class?” You project.
“It doesn’t matter. I will bring you in. I will win.” Clark answers.
“Boring.” You yawn. “Try something new.”
He tries his heat vision again, but nothing comes out.
He tries again and again, only straining himself and his eyes.
You roll your eyes. “Say Supes, what’s the chance your eyes don’t work, or worse they misfire?” You tilt your head.
He doesn’t answer, but you nod all the same.
“Probably low, maybe even zero, but if you keep trying I’ll just keep dialing the chance it’ll misfire up.” You warn.
“What are you doing to my body?” Clark asks, unnerved.
“What I want.” You say with a smile, like it’s simple and obvious. “But don’t worry, I’ll fix your ups and downs, your lefts and rights,” You chortle to yourself, “cause this,” your hand motions between you and him, “is getting boring.”
Clark can feel the change instantly, his body isn’t inverting its electrical signals anymore.
He sets his jaw, fists clenching at his sides. “You’re going to wish you didn’t do that.”
“Oooo, I’m so scared.” You sarcastically remark, before flickering out of the way.
You lift your hand, an enormous red magic construct bleeds into the air.
You snap your hand down at the wrist.
The red construct seems to groan before mimicking your action, and smacking Superman down, slamming him into the ground again.
Clark winces as he stands.
He looks back up to you, he notices the crater is deeper this time.
He floats up, getting ready to charge at you but as the air shifts his head snaps to the side.
“Zatanna, Zatara, thank God you’re here.” Superman says with a smile, relief bleeding into his voice, as he fully turns to them.
“I know he’s your son,” He squeezes his eyes shut, “but I need you two to shield me magically.” He pleads.
“Oh no can do.” Zatanna laughs, before clearing her throat.
“We’re just here to set up a magic containment field, layered over the one (Y/n) already set up.” Giovanni elaborates.
“…what?” Clark whispers, stunned.
“Superman, listen, you’re in over your head.” Zatanna says matter-of-factly. “Just apologize and I’m sure (Y/n) will let this go.”
“He’s a murderer, and neither of you are even the slightest bit shocked or upset?” Clark asks incredulous, flying closer to them.
“The multiverse was at risk of being torn apart. (Y/n) acted as he needed to protect all of existence.” Giovanni says pragmatically.
“No. He’s a murderer. And none of us, not even him, are above the law. Do what you want, but I will take him in.” Superman asserts before flying back into the sky.
“You got anything else in the tank Supes?” You ask with a lilt.
“You’ll tire yourself out before I even break a sweat.” Clark responds, he blitzes forward, before immediately changing his angle.
“I like the sound of that.” You sultrily speak. “I hope you can make good on that.”
He keeps moving like a pinball, all while your eyes keep tracking him.
He feels something coil in his gut as he notices your eyes go to where he’ll be before he’s even there.
He manages to get behind you, punching you square in the back.
You fly forward, but freeze right in front of a building.
Your body turns in red butterflies that all rush over covering him head to toe.
Clark’s eyes widen.
The video of Lex’s execution replays in his mind.
The red smoke.
The way it entered Lex’s body.
He brings his arms up, covering his face, preparing for the worst.
When they dissipate, you’re standing behind Clark.
Before he can react, or lower his arms, you deliver a hard kick, forcing him down to the ground, though he manages to land on his feet.
“I’m bored, so I think it’s time we end this.” You say looking down at him.
“And how will you manage that?” He asks smugly. “Just admit it! You can’t win this fight.”
“It’s already in motion.” You say with a smirk.
Superman flies back towards you, but he overshoots it.
He shakes his head, before blitzing you with a combo that keeps phasing in and out of your body.
“(Y/n) stop! This isn’t a game!” Zatanna shouts from a nearby rooftop. “You’re going to kill him and destroy the Earth!”
“I’ve got this Zee.” You telepathically project.
Clark makes a face at her, watching the horror on her face solidify.
“Dad, say something.” She begs, head continuing to snap back to the sky, before she looks to Giovanni.
“(Y/n) Zatara.” He starts sternly. “You know you shouldn’t do that.”
Your shoulders jump.
You sheepishly look over to him. “But Dad—“
“No buts (Y/n).” He interjects.
Superman manages to get a look at the sky, but it’s clear blue, not a single cloud in sight.
“Don’t worry, it’s almost over.” You assure Giovanni, watching as Clark starts slowing down.
Each punch feels heavier than the last, even staying in the air is harder than it was moments ago.
He feels sick, clammy, cold sweat across his forehead.
He can’t get enough air in his lungs.
Every cell in his body is screaming for mercy.
He throws one last punch that manages to touch your chin.
It has as much strength as a newborn, before he falls backwards plummeting from the sky.
As his body lands an echoing thud rings out.
The concrete cracks, spiderwebbing out in a radius.
His vision wavers and feels cloudy as you descend from the sky.
“(Y/n)! Change it back now!” Zatanna yells, pulling your ear.
“Ow ow ow! Okay! Okay!” You whine.
Clark can feel the air shift, the temperature rising, but nothing changed, at least nothing he could see.
You kneel down beside him.
“(Y/n) don’t do anything you’ll regret.” Batman’s voice comes over the comms.
“Never Batsy.” You say softly, yet your voice is carried through the mic like you’re speaking directly into his consciousness.
Clark can feel his heart rate spike, as you approach him and kneel down beside his body.
When he saw your hand held out, he expected to be pierced through his chest, his head to explode, something anything, he expected death.
And yet within seconds he saw scarlet wisps coalesce in your palm, before a yellow light blinded him.
He groaned softly feeling his cells rejuvenate, and swell with solar energy.
His eyes opened a little wider watching the nuclear fusion taking place in your hand as if you were just holding a baseball.
His eyes flutter shut the moment the light fades.
Clark wakes up in the Daily Planet, seated at his desk, fingers typing away.
He freezes.
He remembers the fight.
The sudden awareness that he was a big fish in a little pond and now a guppy in the ocean still hasn’t settled over him.
The dreamscape seems to melt and shatter into scattered starlight, before shifting to Metropolis airspace.
Clark can hear the cars honking below, the millions of conversations taking place, the hum of cars’ engines as they sit in traffic.
“Oh Claaaaark.” Your voice calls out. “What’s wrong Boy Scout?”
“Bit off more than you can chew?” You wonder.
Clark tenses feeling your hand gently cup his cheek.
He almost leans into it before stopping and throwing a blind swing.
His breathing gets heavier as he turns around to find himself still alone.
“I have to bring you in. I have to arrest you.” He says pragmatically.
“Lex Luthor’s—“
“Before? Sure, maybe.” You admit.
“But you know that’s not true now.” You whisper. “Can you hear that?” You ask.
As if the world’s volume is dialed down to zero everything quiets immediately.
Clark feels a chill wash over him.
Before he can get used to the sudden quiet, a rhythmic thumping echoes through the city and its alleyways.
Clark can somehow feel you smiling softly.
Clark stiffens again, as your hand reaches out to touch him.
His eyes widen as the once rhythmic thumping starts to speed up, becoming erratic and out of sync.
“That’s you.” You whisper.
“I make you nervous…I wonder why?” You giggle.
Clark gasps loudly, jerking forward in bed.
His hand shoots to his chest, clutching at the fabric of his suit.
He takes deep heaving breaths as his eyes adjust to the light in the Watchtower med-bay.
“Ah, you’re awake.” Bruce says standing up. “Let’s debrief.”
“Sure.” Clark manages to get out.
He catches his breath, hand dragging down his face as he struggles to accept what he’s seen.
“It was just a dream…nothing deeper than that…” he tells himself, even if it feels like something halfway between a truth and a lie.
He begrudgingly rises following Bruce out and towards the war room.
The gentle hum of the machinery and wiring does nothing to ease him.
Nor does it rid him of the shame, and something deeper, something warmer he can’t and won’t name, he feels reluctantly blooming in his chest.
The doors hum lowly as they slide open.
They both step through the threshold.
Clark immediately spots Guy Gardner, John Stewart, Wonder Woman, Zatanna, Zatara, Batman, and shockingly Klarion the Witch Boy.
“So Big Blue,” Guy starts, holding back a laugh, “where is he? I thought you were going to bring him in.”
“Very funny.” Clark tersely answers.
Guy manages to make a shocked face, before laughing hysterically.
“Now, now, Superman is just inexperienced with (Y/n). I should’ve warned him.” Bruce starts. “Though he should’ve taken our warnings.”
“Listen he just caught me off guard is all.” Clark defends himself. “Besides family or not, Zatanna and Zatara should’ve helped me.”
“There’s nothing they could’ve done against the magic (Y/n) wields.” Klarion interjects with a sneer.
As he quiets, his familiar Teekl purrs, before jumping onto his lap, flicking her tail.
“What is he doing here?” Clark asks eyeing the Lord of Chaos.
“I know Superman. Trust me I don’t want him here either.” Zatanna says shooting Klarion a glare, that earns her a mocking laugh from the witch boy.
“I felt what happened,” Klarion shrugs his shoulder, a small spark of his magic circling as he waves his finger, “I’m making sure (Y/n) is okay.”
“Why is no one bothered a Lord of Chaos is in our midst?” Clark asks the room at large.
“We have a sort of….truce—“
“I wouldn’t call it that.” Klarion cuts Zatanna off.
“As it pertains to (Y/n).” Zatanna finishes.
“About that magic, Zatanna, there’s no lingering damage, or any at all really, to the universe. It blipped in and out like it never existed, though our sensors still registered it as an anomaly.” Bruce reveals.
“Doesn’t make it any less frightening.” She laughs before leaning back against her chair.
“What are you talking about?” Clark asks.
“You didn’t see it?” Zatanna asks confused.
“You kept looking at the sky Superman, I thought you’d seen it.” Giovanni adds.
Clark scoffs, crossing his arms. “The sky was fine.”
“I don’t know why you two were acting all out of sorts.” He adds. “It’s not like he was fighting either of you.”
Clark finally walks over to his seat, sitting down.
“Batman, play the footage!” Guy begs wiping a tear from his eye. “I gotta see his face when he realizes.”
Klarion laughs too, dramatically, a high falsetto as he sees Clark more confused than ever.
“See what?” Clark asks again trying not to snap.
No one responds, but the sound of keyboard tiles clicking registers as the lights dim.
Incident Log #378 - Metropolis Anomaly
Flashes across the screen as the video plays.
Diana and John Stewart recline in their seats like they’re watching a highlight reel.
Guy Gardner sits up straighter, still eyeing Clark’s face.
Klarion conjures a bowl of popcorn, sharing some with his familiar.
Bruce doesn’t react, but that’s not exactly shocking.
Zatanna and Giovanni don’t flinch either, as though it’s not the first time this has happened.
Clark watches with a stone face.
Rather he tries to.
His eyes widening as the fight plays out again, but this time he can see what had Zatanna and Giovanni freaking out.
“(Y/n) stop! This isn’t a game!” Zatanna shouts from a nearby rooftop.
Her head snaps over to the horizon.
The camera follows her line of sight.
The yellow star, Sol, the celestial giant that holds the solar system together, crackles and warbles.
The video glitches like it’s skipping a few frames, before stabilizing and catching the star collapsing in on itself.
In mere moments it becomes a swirling black maw, drawing in all light and space debris.
The smile stitched across your face stretches further as you see the solar power draining from Clark.
The video continues showing the skirmish.
The moment Clark falls from the sky, the black hole shrinks, and the yellow sun returns instantly, like it had never left.
You approach the same as he saw, scarlet wisps combining in your hand as you recreate a yellow star in the palm of your hand.
You bathe Clark in its light before your red magic swirls and punches another hole in reality that you walk into.
Clark sits aghast at the video.
His hands tighten around the armrests.
The lights brighten, as the incident log closes.
“Could I perchance get a copy of the footage?” Klarion asks innocently, a wicked smile stretched across his face. “Strictly for archival purposes.”
No one acknowledges Klarion but it doesn’t take the wind out of his sails.
“Batman…” Clark grits his teeth, hands clenching into fists against the table. “He’s a monster.”
“Watch your mouth, Superman.” Giovanni icily says.
“That’s my brother you’re speaking about.” Zatanna says. “Tread lightly.”
“Monster?” Klarion’s voice loses that recognizable falsetto. “Careful, alien, he’s my favorite thing in this wretched plane of orderly existence. Disrespect him at your own peril.” Klarion says hands glowing, twitching with magic as he spins in the chair he’s occupying.
Even Teekl seems upset at Clark’s word choice.
“Superman, do not think to disrespect (Y/n).” Diana says, voice sharpening.
“He could destroy your home, the way he nearly destroyed mine.” Clark crosses his arms, disbelief mounting that no one is siding with him.
“And he has not. He could rend the multiverse itself into threads, and he has not.” She defends. “You only see a monster because he does not fit your morality. You do not see the boy behind the power.”
“Wonder Woman has a point Superman.” John interjects, a small smile tugging at his lips. “(Y/n) is a good kid…just more powered up than most his age. He holds the multiverse together, he helps us when we need, he is a friend.”
“He’s an adult!” Clark roars.
“He’s a young man, Superman.” Giovanni defends. “My son. I’ve raised him well.”
“Snapping Lex Luthor’s neck in a jail cell doesn’t seem like a very high bar to clear.” Clark retorts, seething. “And you want to talk about it like it’s something to be proud of?”
“(Y/n) does what he deems necessary to protect the multiverse.” Giovanni counters.
“Superman, believe me I’ve had my fair share of problems with him.” Batman takes a breath. “No one here, especially not me, has forgotten what he did in Gotham.”
“(Y/n) could handle every problem in existence, and make a utopia. He doesn’t because he respects self-determination. He lets us handle our villains as long as they don’t cross into his jurisdiction.” Batman says plainly. “Lex Luthor played in a sandbox he had no business being in.”
Clark laughs breathily, looking around to everyone’s faces. “Do you all hear yourselves?”
“You’re making excuses for a murderer.” He says quietly. “No one is above the law.”
“You don’t protect people by deciding who lives and who dies.” He adds.
“No one, asterisk, except (Y/n).” Guy laughs. “Face it Big Blue, no matter how much you feel it’s injustice, or unfair, or whatever else gets your cape in a knot, you’re not someone (Y/n) will answer to.” He states with annoyance that Clark isn’t letting this go.
“Superman is not wrong to be horrified.” Diana chimes in.
“The act is horrific.” Bruce adds. “That does not mean the act was unnecessary.”
“If none of you are going to physically help me, then at least tell me how to find him.” Clark asks, jaw set, teeth grinding against each other.
“I host him from time to time on Themyscira.” Diana says smiling softly. “Though I doubt he would continue to look fondly on me and my sisters if I told you when he was coming to visit.”
“How’d he swing that?” Guy asks bracing himself against the table.
“Themyscira is known for being barred to men.” John adds.
Diana smiles softly, taking a breath.
It was an ordinary day.
Or as ordinary as it could be really on the Zatara estate.
Giovanni was wrapped up in his spell books, believing Zatanna was with you.
She was.
For the most part.
She was responsible.
She played, she entertained you, until nature called.
Zatanna stepped away for the briefest of moments, needing to use the restroom.
She was gone for five minutes, at most.
To you, as a little four-year-old, Zatanna was gone five minutes too long for your liking.
It was small, innocent.
“Zee’ I’m bored….” You drawled, lying on the grass, watching ants march in single file across the air.
As soon as the words left your mouth the air shifted.
The pressure in the garden seemed to lessen and increase.
Scarlet wisps pooled into reality, concentrating in the air just before you, swirling like water down a drain.
You stared into it, eyes wide and shining, before looking over your shoulder to see Zatanna still wasn’t back.
“I’ll ownly be a minute…” You giggled walking through the portal you unknowingly opened.
In an instant you found yourself on the shores of the beach closest to your home.
You squeal with joy, running around, feeling the sand between your toes, collecting shells, and letting the sea salt flow through your hair.
You don’t know how long you’ve spent here, but another portal opens, just as welcoming as the first.
You don’t hesitate as you run through.
You found yourself running through the streets of Rome.
You ooo and aaah at the marble columns, the giant colosseum that looked like it had held a thousand battles.
You can almost picture the men and women in bed sheets walking around.
“I wanna see something older. Older than daddy.” You laughed to yourself, arms stretched out, taking steps and balancing yourself on the banister of the arena.
Another portal opened, swirling more intensely than the last one, like it was fighting against something.
Red lightning occasionally crackled across the diameter, not in warning, it felt warm as it touched your skin, welcoming still.
You ran right through, styling yourself an explorer.
You unknowingly breached wards.
A barrier older than anything you’ve ever knowingly seen.
Erected by the first gods, that lead to a beautiful island, untouched by mankind.
“The sand ‘eels different here!” You giggled.
Even the waves that lapped against the shoreline felt ancient.
Within seconds you felt the curtain-like-thing draped across the land react and warble.
“I wonder what’s that ‘bout…” You mused to yourself running onto the marble floor.
Your hands went to your ears, your face scrunched up as the magical background hum became even more incessant.
A beam of golden light projected down, circling you.
You felt a tug, a push, a pull, something that wanted to move you.
It was heavy, suffocating, as if trying to pin you down before you could go farther.
You didn’t recognize it as the island’s magical defense.
It had no discernible voice.
No authoritative words telling you to go home.
“I don’t wanna go yet…” You whined softly.
In an instant your red magic pooled forth, and took the shape of your chubby little hand, before extending a single digit.
With all the innocence of a four-year-old, it touches the column of golden light, shattering it instantly.
“I can stay?” You ask aloud, waiting for another golden column to come down, but it never does.
“Yay!” You giggled running again touching the architecture.
You could feel the ground shaking like people were coming towards you.
Diana ran faster than she had before jumping over her sisters in a blur of gold and red.
“Magical intruder.” She quickly thought. “Circe?”
“No…it’s too raw and uncontrolled…chaotic…” She surmised.
She leaped through the air again, eyeing the small intruder, skidding to a stop before you.
“Identify yourself.” She said with powerful regal presence.
“Huh?” You asked looking up to her.
You thought she was pretty, like the princesses in the books your dad or Zatanna read to you.
“Hi!” You said excitedly, you reached out your hand to introduce yourself, but your magic responded to your excitement.
A tiny red lightning arc jumped from your fingers.
It wasn’t on purpose.
It dealt no damage, merely tingled and felt like a tiny zap.
She didn’t hesitate, her instincts overrode everything else.
“Oof!” You groaned in pain as her heel came in contact with your chest.
You felt the air forced out of your lungs in a single choked sound.
Diana watched as you flew through the air, before slamming into a column.
A cloud of white dust billowed up from the impact.
Diana braced herself, ready for the next attack, but it never came.
She heard a wet broken sound rip from your throat.
“He’s a child…!” She thought frantically.
She could see you struggling to get up, holding yourself against the broken marble.
Your shirt torn, your chest bruised in ugly angry colors from her strike.
She was sure she could see and hear your tiny ribs snapping into place again.
“Little one, I’m so—“
Diana’s hands shot to her ears, the weight of the air, the pressure of your magic, dropped her to one knee.
Your sobs grew louder, interrupting her apology.
She watched heart heavy as your chubby hands smeared your tears in uneven streaks against your skin.
She started approaching but noticed she’s not getting closer with each step.
“Spatial distortion?” She questioned.
She ran towards you, picking up more and more speed.
She almost made it to your side, her hand outstretched.
Her fingers just barely touched the back of your hand, before the ground stretched again and forced her back to her starting point.
Your sobbing slowly quieted down to hiccuping sniffles.
You looked upset, angry, Diana wanted to apologize again but the air shifted.
Her warrior instincts were tearing her in half.
One part of her could see you, the child, right in front of her.
The other saw a being with raw magical might, a threat to Themyscira.
Diana’s eyes widened as you threw a red blast at her.
She put her arms up, crossed in an X, aiming to let the strike dissipate across her gauntlets.
She groaned fighting against the concussive force of the strike, her feet dug into the marble as she tried to stop herself from skidding back any more.
She didn’t lower her arms, but she moved to get a good look at you.
You quickly lifted an arm, hand curled into a chubby fist again.
Diana waited, she could feel it.
Before she could react a red fist erupted from the ground.
It was as tall as a skyscraper, carrying strength proportional to its size, forcing her to the sky.
Diana caught herself midair, she could see the very ground beneath her shake and screech.
“He’ll destroy Themyscira at this rate!” She panicked.
Her eyes flitted about the ground wildly, looking for you.
She felt the air still, no more accurately, she felt time stop.
Oppressive, haunting, chilling, she couldn’t move.
She felt your tiny fist poke her back.
It carried thrice the concussive force the earlier red blast did.
She could feel her armor start to warp ever so slightly.
She surged forward body slamming into the ground, the marble cracked in spiderweb before giving way and leaving a crater.
“Diana!” An Amazonian shouted.
A multitude of warriors nocked their arrows, all aiming for your head or chest.
Her eyes scanned your tiny body.
She immediately noticed the tremble in your finger, the way your magic fell from your body in wisps before shooting back, the way your eyes narrowed and your lips quivered.
“He’s holding back…” Diana quickly deduced.
“They’ll loose their arrows before I can stop them.” She quickly assumed.
“Don’t fire!” She yelled.
It was enough to make you look to your right, seeing the countless women aiming at you, primed and ready to fire.
Before you could react defensively, you felt a soft warm hum around your body.
You looked down, spotting the golden end of the lasso wrapped around you.
When you looked back to Diana, she was holding a golden magic-imbued rope.
“I didn’t know you had magic here too!” You said excitedly.
The change was instant.
The damage you caused reversed.
Not with conscious decision, but on instinct.
As if when the fear loosened and the anger softened, your magic had responded in kind.
The hole in the ground your construct erupted from knitted itself closed.
Before Diana could respond, the world shifted again.
Reality blurred, Diana felt the wind against her skin.
She hovered in the air, ensnared by her own lasso, while you stood where she did, holding the end of it.
“Why did you hurt me?” You asked, fear heavy and thick in your cadence.
The golden rope hummed, glowing brighter, responding to your magic.
“This island is my home. Men are forbidden to set foot here.” Diana answered, compelled by the magic of her lasso.
“I didn’t know that…” You softly spoke, face breaking with guilt.
Diana’s chest felt even heavier.
“M’sorry…I was just soooo bored.” You sheepishly said, looking towards the ground like someone scolded you.
“I-I’ll go home.” You said lowly, your shoulders slouched and your sniffles echoed in her ears again.
She couldn’t reconcile what was happening before her eyes.
She didn’t know how to accept the guilt on your face when she struck you first.
Before she could speak again the end of her lasso you were just holding fell to the ground.
“Wait—!” She called out, but you had already disappeared in a puff of red smoke.
The scent of magic and a child’s milk cream still heavy in the air.
Diana wanted to go forth, out into the world of men, one goal in mind.
Find you.
She hoped to apologize, to invite you back, to show you the wonders of her home you had wanted to see, but her duty demanded she stay and help rebuild.
Days later she felt the barrier to her home shake again.
Not with the raw chaotic energy it did when you breached it, but precise, surgical.
Whoever was coming, was coming with purpose.
“Mother—“
”I know.” Hippolyta responded immediately, heading with Diana to the source of the intrusion.
The raw magic crackled and surged through the air as Giovanni Zatara and Zatanna Zatara walked through the barrier undisturbed.
“Giovanni Zatara, human magician, man.” Hippolyta spoke.
“This island is forbidden to your kind.” She reminded.
Giovanni’s jaw tightened hard enough his teeth creaked.
“My son (Y/n) Zatara, found himself on these foreign shores some odd days ago.” Giovanni’s voice didn’t waver, but his fury was evident in the way his magic responded.
“He returned home with a boot-shaped bruise on his chest.” He snarled, eyes landing on Diana.
She tensed, freezing, hands clenching at her sides, but she didn’t run, she didn’t hide.
“(Y/n), honey, what happened here?” Giovanni asked softly, eyeing the black and blue on your chest.
“I went to a beautiful island!” You said excitedly, playing with your toy boat.
You didn’t notice the way the bubbles came together behind you to form the very island you spoke of.
The curl of the shoreline, the rising marble, you didn’t know its name, but Giovanni did.
“Themyscira…” He thought to himself.
“It was old…older than you daddy!” You giggled.
“I was playing with a pretty lady, but I think she got too excited…” You said softly, almost guilty. “She got too wough…I didn’t know I wasn’t ’pose to be there…she coulda asked me to leave…”
The soap bubbles reform to show Giovanni Wonder Woman.
Giovanni’s hand curled around the rim of the bathtub, his magic coiling tighter around him, like a promise or vow to protect you, to make sure this doesn’t go unanswered.
“I dunno why she hit me…” You whisper.
“She may have not meant to, (Y/n).” Giovanni whispered, tousling your hair.
“I dunno…seemed like she did…” You whisper, chubby hand smacking the water.
“Did I do somethin’ wrong?” You looked to your dad.
“Does she hate me?” You sniffled, eyes watering.
Giovanni could already feel the universe at large stretching and responding.
“Of course not.” Giovanni whispered, pulling you out of the bath and into his arms.
“Sometimes adults make mistakes. And just like when you do, they apologize.” His hand gently patted the back of your head.
“I’ll make sure of it.” He said, putting you back into the tub.
“Now none of that, little one.” He cooed, wiping away your tears.
“Why don’t you pick what we eat today, hmm?” Giovanni offered watching you brighten up instantly.
“Weally?” You giggled, slapping the water with your hands.
“Really.” He assured you.
“Yay!” You laughed, splashing your dad.
“I would like an explanation,” Giovanni took a deep breath trying to calm down every cell in his body, “as to why she struck my four-year-old son.”
The air around Giovanni’s hands crackled as he squeezed them into fists.
“Diana.” Zatanna stepped forward. “Why did you hit him?”
Her hand stretched out in front of Giovanni as if she alone could hold her father back.
Diana walked forward, steadfast, head held up high, even if she felt the weight of her actions bearing down on her.
“He breached our wards.” She said pragmatically. “Something only the likes of Circe and gods have managed.”
She cleared her throat. “I am beholden to my duties first, Giovanni.”
“I struck on instinct, not by intent.” She whispered sadly. “I tried to defuse the situation after I realized he was a child.”
“You dare to compare my son to Circe?” Giovanni seethed.
“Dad.” Zatanna said softly, hand going to his shoulder.
Giovanni’s face softened, he took a breath.
The space, the air, itself relaxed.
“In raw power. Magic itself. Not in attitude.” Diana clarified.
“He is a child. (Y/n) did not know better.” Giovanni snarled.
“Giovanni, he traipsed into our home.” She stepped forward.
“Unintentionally.” He defended.
“All the more reason to guard our shores.” Diana whispered.
“Giovanni, you can attest to how difficult it is to push through Themyscira’s barrier.” Diana said. “Your son broke through without meaning to. The island itself tried to reject his presence, send him back from where he came, and he broke the enchantment.”
“A single touch of his finger is all it took, for millennia-old magic to fall before him.” She paused. “More than that, we exchanged blows after.”
“I will not hold him to my standards or yours. Any child cornered might lash out.” She shuddered remembering the force behind your tiny grubby fists. “He nearly destroyed Themyscira.”
“I am sincerely sorry I struck your son. I have been wracked with guilt since our encounter. But I am not sorry, nor will I ever apologize for defending my home.” Diana said steadfast.
“Then apologize to him.” Zatanna suggested softly.
“All he spoke of when I asked him about his bruise was the beautiful island, and the pretty woman who gave it to him.” Giovanni icily said.
Diana felt an ache in her chest, a surging shame she couldn’t hold up.
“If you’d have me as a guest in your home despite my actions…I’d be more than happy to apologize to him myself.” She said softly.
“If you’ll have me in your home, I’ll apologize to him there. Or host you here, and show him Themyscira as it should have greeted him.” She whispered.
Giovanni’s body relaxed.
His alpha instincts still prowled, but seemed sated for the moment.
Zatanna sighed softly, she couldn’t physically smell the furious pheromones coming off of her father, but she could feel them in the waves of his magic.
“That is acceptable.” Giovanni spoke.
“Thank you, Princess of Themyscira.” He murmured.
“Thank you, Giovanni Zatara.” Diana answered with a smile. “When should you expect me?”
“A week from today.” He responded.
“Excellent. I look forward to speaking with the little magician.” Diana smiled warmly. “I’ll be bringing a gift. A token rather. So when he returns, he’ll be received as a guest, not an invader.”
“You honor us Princess, even after I, of necessity, broke through your barrier.” Giovanni bowed ever so slightly. “I look forward to receiving you. If your wards ever need reinforcement, you need only ask.”
“Let’s go Zee.” He whispered, already turning away.
Zatanna looked back to Diana, mouthing ‘thank you’, before following her dad.
The hole Giovanni cut open slowly sutured itself back up, shining blue before returning to that misty gold.
“I hope you know what you’re doing Diana.” Hippolyta spoke, watching the horizon.
“I do, mother.” Diana responded, before turning on her heel.
The days bound together, bleeding like starlight before scattering.
The rain poured from the sky, as though a spigot has broken.
Diana could hear the way the raindrops pelted the ground as she approached the Zatara estate gates.
She smirked to herself, shaking her head and laughing under her breath.
“Of course.” She thought to herself as her eyes drifted upwards.
The rain stopped right outside the gates.
She could see faint red wisps that stopped the weather itself.
The gates opened for her, reacting to the sigil Zatanna had given her the week prior.
“Make sure no one comes in with you.” Zatanna said with a smile.
Diana looked around, lifting her foot and striking the ground to scare off any would-be intruders.
She passed the threshold, turning around and watching as the gates closed by themselves.
She approached the door, hand outstretched to knock—
“Hi Diana.” Giovanni said with a tired look on his face.
“Hi Giovanni.” Diana greeted, walking in as he holds the door open wider.
“Need I ask?” She chuckled hand lifted, thumb pointing to the rain that wouldn’t reach their home.
“He wanted to play outside. I told him no because it was raining, and well…a few seconds later it wasn’t.” Giovanni laughed softly. “I think a hole in the sky opened when I heard him mutter that he wanted to splash in a puddle.”
Diana laughed with him. “My, my…The little sorcerer sure is something.”
“He’s in the backyard.” Giovanni said, showing Diana to the estate’s sprawling patio.
Her eyes widened, her mouth dropped open at the floating boats littering the sky.
Her eyes found you instantly, posturing in the crow’s nest, telescope in hand.
A giant whale jumped from one cloud, diving into another, the sky itself splashing upwards like its water.
“Try not to be so surprised, Diana.” Giovanni laughed, walking outside, watching with warm loving eyes as you played in the cloud.
Diana walked forward, past Giovanni.
The moment her foot touched the grass, the clouds froze as if paused.
The drops of sky that were still settling back halted, your attention snapped to her immediately.
She felt her body tense up, instincts screaming to be ready for a fight.
She didn’t act on it, trying to be as non-threatening as possible.
She gasped softly when you disappeared in a puff of red smoke.
She panicked eyes flitting about before she turned to look at Giovanni.
“Daddy that’s her…” You whispered, hiding behind his legs.
Your chubby hands gripped his coat like a lifeline.
“I know, son.” Giovanni whispered, kneeling down, hand on your back.
“She has something she’d like to say to you.” He said gently.
“Why don’t you come in front of me?” He said gingerly, trying to push you in front of him.
“Mnh-mnh.” You shook your head, burying your face into his coat, fingers hooked into the fabric.
Diana took one step closer, but no further.
She could already see the way reality prepared itself to stretch and warp for you.
She dropped to one knee.
“Little one. I am Diana of Themyscira.” She said kindly. “You might also know me as Wonder Woman.”
“What’s your name?” She asked gently.
You didn’t answer, still eyeing her.
“It’s okay, honey.” Giovanni whispered.
“(Y/n)…Zatara.” You say muffled.
“A strong name for a strong boy.” She smiled. “A few days ago, you came to my homeland, and I acted too swiftly in defense of it.”
“I did not know you were a child, that does not erase the harm. For that, I am sorry.” She hung her head.
“You are…?” You asked voice small, unsure.
“I am. I wish I could go back and stop myself.” She admitted.
“I have a token for you, if you’d be kind enough to receive it.” She smiled and reached into her pocket.
Your fingers unfurled from your dad’s coat.
You walked over slowly.
“Uhmmm hi…” you looked to the ground, already shy.
“Hello (Y/n).” Diana answered, she held out her hand, an Amazon ward carved from Themysciran marble, inscribed with protection wards, sat in her palm.
You looked at her hand, before looking to her face, your hand reached for it before pulling back.
“It is yours, bearing Queen Hippolyta’s seal, I had it made just for you.” She assured you.
You took it from her, your lips curling into a smile as you looked it over.
“It has magic!” You said excitedly.
“I would be honored if you came to visit that beautiful island again. This time I’d like to show you everything you didn’t get to see.” She said cheerful. “Would you like that?”
You kept looking at the stone in your hand.
Diana wondered if you understood the significance of it.
“Thank you Di’ana.” You said brightly, arms looping around her neck as you hugged her, tiny hand clutching onto the stone like it’s your most prized possession.
“You’re welcome (Y/n).” She responded patting your back.
You pulled away running back over to Giovanni.
“Daddy! Daddy! Look what the pretty lady gave me!” You beamed showing off the Amazon ward.
“Such a thoughtful gift isn’t it?” He smirked, kissing the crown of your head.
“Queen Hippolyta and I have hosted him countless times since.” Diana recounts fondly.
“That’s the kid I know.” John leans back chuckling to himself.
“So,” Clark takes a breath, bracing himself against the table, “(Y/n) breaks into your home, fights you, nearly tears apart your island, and you make him an honored guest?”
The silence that follows makes Clark recalculate.
Clark shakes his head, clearing his throat. “I see the restraint you’re talking about, Wonder Woman. That doesn’t change the fact that (Y/n) showed none to Lex.”
“None of us are above the law. And I’d just as quickly arrest any one of you for breaking the law.” He adds.
“I’ll find (Y/n), and have him answer for what he’s done, even if I have to do it alone.” He says strongly.
“Wow, Big Blue.” Your voice echoes in the war room.
The sensors start blaring, before the noise shrinks and fades, though the warning lights haven’t changed back.
“I haven’t had such a romantic declaration.” You giggle.
“If you wanted to look for me, all you had to do was ask nicely.” You tease, as a portal rips open in the war room.
You walk through before it snaps shut behind you.
You pull on Klarion’s chair.
He doesn’t even react aside from the small amused smile.
The chair stretches as you conjure an exact duplicate next to him.
You plop down as he laughs and smirks to himself over the casual chaos.
“Hi Diana, Hi John, Hi J’onn, Hi Guy.” You greet excitedly.
“Hi (Y/n).” Diana responds softly.
“Hey kid.” John nods.
Guy raises two fingers in greeting.
“Hello (Y/n).” J’onn says softly.
You gasp loudly, as you make eye contact with Batman.
“Hi Bruce!” You run over, hugging him, laughing as his body tenses.
“It’s been ages! I haven’t been able to stretch my legs in Gotham.” You say excitedly.
“How’s Jason doing?” You ask warmly, moving back to your seat.
“I miss the little nights out we’d have with Harley and Ivy.” You say fondly spinning around in your chair.
“He’s doing well.” Batman’s hands relax, his jaw eases. “He’s asked me to lift your Gotham ban a few times.”
Bruce’s signature scowl seems to twitch, but no one else notices. “Obviously that’s not happening.”
“Guess I’ll just have to keep sneaking in then.” You shrug your shoulders. “Allegedly.”
“I’ll catch you one day.“ Bruce says offhandedly.
“Sure you will, I love our little cat-and-mouse game.” You chuckle.
“(Y/n).” Clark sets his jaw, crossing his arms. “Do you have no boundaries?”
You make a face, you lean back in your chair crossing your arms. “I’m an honorary member. I can be here.”
“Is this still about Lex Luthor?” You ask tilting your head. “I thought the smackdown in Metropolis was enough to make you get over it.”
“You killed someone.” Clark reminds.
“If you miss him so much, I could always bring him back?” You sarcastically offer.
The room tenses, Zatanna looks uncomfortable, Giovanni’s lips purse into a thin line.
Diana and John both tense, eyes quickly meeting before settling on you again.
Clark’s eyes widen, his mouth drops open.
The knowledge didn’t shock him.
It was the implication.
The fact your voice was solid as you casually spoke of bringing Lex Luthor back to life.
As if he were in another room and not dead.
The silence stretches far into the moment, refusing to move, just like anyone.
Your expression cracks, the silence gets you just a bit.
“Just kiddin’ Boy Scout.” You purr.
“I refuse to raise the dead, but more specifically there’s nothing left of Lex Luthor, in this universe or any of the other infinite ones to pull from.” You say candidly, waving your hand.
“What does that mean?” Clark’s teeth audibly grind at your flippant attitude. “He doesn’t exist anymore. That one, and every iteration of him that would risk reality.” You bluntly say. “Nor will that category ever rise again. A risk to the multiverse is a risk too high.”
Clark’s eyes widen, his hands drop to his side. “You…you what?” Clark laughs in disbelief. “You just…what? Erased him?”
“Yeah.” You affirm, not understanding his attitude. “Poof. Gone. And the multiverse breathes easier because of it.”
“Besides it’s not so different from you yanking the president of Boravia to ‘have a chat’ when he wanted to invade Jarhanpur.” You say tilting your head and shrugging your shoulders.
Clark’s jaw tightens.
“It’s how I operate, Clark.” You say his name softly.
Clark feels his face warm up, his heart skipping a beat. “How you operate?”
Clark’s voice wavers, a disbelieving laugh leaves him.
“You’re a monst—“ Clark’s voice stops mid-breath.
His eyes widen, his hand shooting to his throat.
He exhales in a steady stream.
Clark wheezes, lungs spasming as he tries and fails to draw in another breath.
His eyes water, turning red, before they flare like he’s going to fire off his heat vision.
The warning lights blink faster, the buzzer echoes once. A hairline fracture appears on the Watchtower viewport.
Clark falls to his knees, fist landing against the table.
When you realize you’re causing it, your mouth drops open.
You collect yourself, face steeling.
You close your eyes, softly exhaling, reining in your magic.
He feels the crushing pressure around his trachea disappear.
Clark takes deep ragged breaths as he feels the air rush back into his lungs.
He can smell and taste chocolate and brandy, before it turns to ash on his tongue.
“Yeah…I guess I am, Superman…” You flash a quick smile, before your eyes dart down to the table.
Clark feels his alpha howl at the loss of his nickname.
He can’t stand the conflict inside him.
He can’t stand the way he enjoys having gotten to you.
He can’t stand the way he wants to apologize immediately.
He didn’t think he’d hate hearing his hero name fall from your mouth like this.
Your chair skids across the floor before fading into red smoke.
“(Y/n)…” Zatanna whispers, her hand going to yours.
“Honey…” Giovanni says softly.
“(Y/n)…” Diana says gently, leaning towards you.
“Kid…” John murmurs, eyes pained.
You don’t answer as a portal rips open behind you.
It swirls angrily, the edges more frayed than they normally are.
You turn around, walking through the portal without another word.
It slowly swirls shut, leaving behind scarlet wisps that fade into nothing.
“You’ve got some nerve calling my little prince of chaos a monster.” Klarion seethes. “At least he was born here, you foreign invader.”
He stands up just as abruptly, fading into the shadows.
The silence is palpable.
It’s an oppressive air that threatens to crack Clark under its weight.
“We’re going to check on (Y/n).” Zatanna projects into Bruce’s mind, as she and Giovanni stand up.
“Latrop.” Zatanna casts.
“Zatanna—“ Clark sputters. “Zatara—“
Neither sticks around long enough for him to finish, walking through a conjured portal that zips closed behind them.
Clark looks to Diana. “Wonder Woman—“
”Too far, Clark.” She says. “I understand your frustration, but you don’t know him.”
John doesn’t say anything as he leaves.
“This guy can bench-press a planet but (Y/n) is the monster?” Guy mutters as he follows after John.
“You intended to speak the truth.” J’onn speaks as he stands. “Truth without empathy harms more than anything. Especially someone whose pain radiates through all of existence.”
J’onn places a hand on Clark’s back. “And disregard the Witch Boy’s comment, his words are provocation, not truth.”
“Batman, there are cracks in the viewport of the Watchtower.” He adds before taking his leave.
The room feels colder to Clark, he stares at the space you walked into when you left.
He almost wishes he had followed.
Clark shakes his head.
“If your goal was rallying them to your side against (Y/n), evidently you’ve failed.” Bruce says pragmatically, heading over to the sensors, and watching them intently.
“Bruce, you must understand where I’m coming from.” Clark says exasperated. “You said it yourself, no one’s forgotten what (Y/n) did in Gotham.”
“Be that as it may, I’ve never called him a monster.” Bruce states.
Synopsis: After finding about Leon’s whereabouts, you took it upon yourself to travel back to the ruins of Raccoon City. Hoping to be with the man that you love, even if it was for the last time
Tags: fluff, slight angst, slight action, smút with plot, smitten Leon, flirty Leon, clingy Leon, horny Leon, older Leon, older reader, Top Leon, Bottom Reader
Reader is Jill Valentine’s brother. No use of Y/N.
Event takes place during Resident Evil: Requiem
You can read the prequel here
Author’s note at the end :)
————————————————————————
“Copy that.”
Sherry signed off before leaning back on her chair with a tired sigh. She hoped Leon would be okay heading towards the Raccoon City Police Department on his own.
The sound of the floor squeaking behind her, makes her immediately stand up and turn around with her gun out before lowering it when she saw who it was.
“What are you doing here?” Sherry asked.
You gave Sherry an unimpressed look, folding your arms. “Neat place to hide but for someone who’s been agent for so long, you’d think you would turn off your ‘find my phone’ function so I wouldn’t find you on my gps.”
Sherry gasped, taking her phone out and realising that you were right. She shook her head defiantly as her eyes caught sight of the black veins on your neck. “You should be resting.”
“So should you.” You countered, getting a scoff from the other woman.
Sherry shook her head. “It’s fine. My regenerative abilities from the G-Virus have been keeping the infection at bay.”
“Yet you’re downing meds that would easily take down an elephant.” Your tone shifting to a softer one before you took a step towards her, patting her on the head as if she was the same child you and the others had saved so many years ago.
Sherry chuckled, lightly slapping your hand away from her head. “So did you come here to just check up on me?”
“Yes and no,” You mused as you took your phone out with a frown on your face. “Where is he, Sherry? He hasn’t been returning my calls or texts and it’s been a couple of days.”
Sherry worried on her bottom lip, unsure if telling you the truth would further upset you or bring you some sort of comfort knowing where Leon was.
“Okay,” Sherry sighed. “But promise you won’t get mad.”
“Promise.” You replied to her, not knowing what you were going to hear next was going to change your whole direction for the rest of the day.
~~~~~
“Now what the hell did I just walk into?”
You whispered to yourself after watching a scientist with snake like skin and tentacles for an arm decapitate another man while a platinum blonde haired woman was shielding an unconscious Leon on the floor after getting pierced in the side by the scientist.
“Hey!” You drew your gun out, catching the attention of everyone else except for Leon before the woman turned back and injected Leon with some kind of serum.
“It’s working,” The woman panted out. “Leon, it’s working wake up!”
You dragged your eyes away from the two on the floor, your gun still aimed at the scientist but the man pays you no mind as he walked up to a panel in the middle of the platform and pressed a few buttons.
“Now. Let it all come down,” The scientist turned to you, before raising his hand that was holding another serum. “All of it.”
“What?” You asked out loud, still unsure of what was fully happening.
“Grace, what happened?” Leon’s voice caught your attention before you ducked and rolled at the last second when the scientist swiped his tentacled arm at you.
Leon’s eyes meets yours in a hazy confusion before he gasped. “What the hell are you doing here?!”
Grace watched the both of you, still holding on to her side where she was wounded.
“Oh you know,” You panted out, feeling the effects of the mutating t-virus furthering your fatigue. “I was revisiting memories of our adventures in this lab.”
Leon quickly crawled to you, softly cradling your face as he saw the dark veins had spread to your chin. “We need to get you that cure.”
The whole place shakes, debris falling everywhere and the platforms tips before falling off to the side.
“It’s gonna go!” Leon yelled out, immediately gathering you into his arms. “Grab something!”
You, Leon and Grace then fell off the toppling platform and to the floor below, Grace yelling out while you and Leon stumbled onto the floor.
Leon supporting you the entire time so you didn’t hurt yourself when you landed, slightly amazed by the other man’s renewed strength.
Leon hugged you close to his body when the remainder of the previous platform fell to the floor that the both of you were on.
“Grace?” Leon looked around with you, calling out for Grace. “Grace!”
The both of you then turned your heads to see Gideon walk up to the both of you, Leon shielding you with his body as he took a step forward.
“Go find Grace.” Leon told you, making you nod as you quickly ducked away before Leon turned his attention to Gideon. “Time to bury umbrella’s last skeleton.”
You searched around the mess, hearing Leon fight off Gideon in the background before you saw Grace’s unconscious body on the floor.
“Grace!” You called out to her as you dropped to your knees and patted her softly on the face. “Come on, it’s not nap time yet.”
Grace let out a groan as she came back to her senses before sitting up and looking at you in confusion as her eyes fell on the dark veins on your neck. “Wait, you’re infected too? Who are you?”
The sound of Gideon yelling and what seemed to be electricity catches the two of you off guard before you turned back to her questioning gaze. “I’m the husband of the man you saved with that cure.”
“Husband? Wow, his dad jokes suddenly make a lot of sense.” Grace panted out, making you chuckle.
You shook your head. “His dad jokes have been around since I met him here in Raccoon City, twenty-eight years ago.”
You hear Gideon let out a defeated wail and got up to see the scientist fall off the platform.
“Good riddance.” Leon muttered before turning his head to look for you and sighing in relief when your eyes locked in with his.
Grace stood next to you, halting you from going to Leon. “Wait! You need this.”
You turned to her in confusion, only to flinch when she injected you with the cure and you gasped feeling the weight of the illness suddenly leave your body.
You saw Leon grin before the both of you whipped your heads at the edge where Gideon fell off at the sound of something massive moving from below.
“Grace, go and find someplace safe to hide. I have a feeling we’re not done yet.” You advised Grace, who nodded before running away to hide behind some debris.
You jogged up to Leon, picking up the rocket launcher that was conveniently left on the floor and then accepting the kiss on the cheek that he gave you.
Leon sighed happily, noticing the black veins on your neck now gone. “You’re cured.”
The both of you turned when giant tentacles and claws latch to the side of the platform as a giant monster rose up from the ground, its unbelievable size taking up half of the room.
Leon grabbed and covered you with his body when the monster lands on the platform, grunting when the impact caused a gush of wind to rush at the both of you.
“A nemesis,” Leon said as he looked up at the hideous creature. “No wonder, he was so damn relentless.”
“Yeah, well when there’s a nemesis…” You trailed off, lifting the rocket launcher up.
Leon turned his head to you with an amused smile. “There’s a Valentine ready to take it down.”
“It’s Kennedy now, I got married.” You winked at Leon.
Leon shook his head with a chuckle. “I really am the luckiest man alive.”
The new nemesis roared, forcing the both of you turn to it with your weapons out.
“Cover me?” Leon breathed out.
You grinned, aiming the rocket launcher towards the monster. “Always.”
~~~~~
“How’s Claire and the others?”
You asked one of the members of Chris’ team, The Hound Wolf Squad.
The man nodded, a good sign. “Captain Redfield says everyone’s currently stable and still resting.”
You smiled, handing the man some of the antivirals. “These should be enough for Claire, Carlos, Ada and Jill. Make sure to pass the remainders to Rebecca to replicate the cure. Oh and tell Jill that I’m fine, the cure worked and that I’ll see my sister when I come back.”
“Yes sir.” The man responded before walking away.
A familiar set of strong arms circled your waist from behind, the front of Leon’s body leaned onto your back as the man burrowed his face into your neck with a deep sigh.
You patted the side of Leon’s face before kissing the hinge of his jaw. “How are you holding up? You’ve been gone for quite awhile.”
“I’m sorry,” Leon replied, his voice slightly muffled. “I should’ve told you where I was going but we were running out of time.”
“Hey, you had to do something with whatever was at your disposal. Sherry was the one who told me by the way, so don’t get mad at her.” You told Leon, the man grumbled unhappily.
Leon groaned, removing his face from your neck as he turned you around so the both of you were facing each other. “I much preferred if you hadn’t put yourself through hell to find me but I’m happy that you’re here with me now.”
“Between you and Grace, I pretty much sailed through everything and it was all worth it you know?” You told Leon, making the man’s head tilt in question.
You sighed, leaning your body toward his. “It didn’t matter if we were able to find a cure or not, I would’ve fought to be by your side even till the very end.”
Leon smiled warmly at you, resting his forehead against yours. “Well we don’t have to think about that now, it’s all in the past.”
“Yeah well, speaking of the past. I found a letter that was written by Marvin’s daughter and I felt like shit remembering what Marvin told me at the station way back then while I was alone with him before he turned.” You worried your bottom lip, trying not to tear up.
Leon’s hand cradled the side of your face, he tilted his head to kiss your forehead while he shushed you softly. “It’s okay baby, it wasn’t easy for me too when I walked back into the station and the events of that night replayed in my mind.”
“We should’ve died but we didn’t.” You muttered, feeling the downturn of Leon’s lips on your forehead.
Leon leaned back, his eyes boring into yours with a sense of determination. “You’re right but we were given the chance to live so we should continue to honour them by fighting the fight however we can.”
“I love you.” You sniffled, getting a comforting kiss from the other man.
Leon pulled back with a soft smile. “I love you more. There’s nobody in this life that I’d go through all of this with.”
You smiled before your eyes shifted to Grace sitting by her lonesome on one of the helicopters that the squad had arrived on.
You took out one of the antivirals out of your pocket before handing it to Leon. “Tell Sherry we got one for her too, I’ll go check on Grace.”
Leon nodded before tapping on his earpiece to inform Sherry of the good news as you walked over to Grace.
“Grace.” You called out to her, the other woman looking up at you with a small smile.
Grace sighed. “Hey, looks like you’re doing well.”
“You mind?” You pointed to the space next to her, Grace shaking her head as she scooted over to let you sit.
You sighed, glancing at her with a comforting smile. “Your last name’s Ashcroft right? I knew your mom before she passed.”
“You were friends with my mom?” Grace stuttered slightly, seeing you shake your head in response.
You sighed. “We weren’t close, I met her in passing when I was still working for the government. What she uncovered and did in exposing Umbrella back then was an insane feat, she was a very brave woman.”
“Yeah, she was. I miss her.” Grace’s voice trailed off.
You bumped your shoulder with hers. “You’ll get through this, thank you for being brave on your own. You saved my husband.”
Grace opened her mouth and was about to respond when Leon’s voice interrupted her.
“It’s over then.” Leon walked up to the both of you with a small smile.
“Yeah,” Grace smiled back. “Elpis was really our last hope.”
“Well let’s pray Umbrella hasn’t left us any more nasty surprises.” Leon replied, winking at you and getting an eye roll from you in response.
Grace shook her head and sighed. “I wish we could’ve saved Emily.”
“Grace,” Leon walked up to Grace, making her look up at him. “I didn’t hit any of her vitals. She should still be alive.”
“What are you saying?” Grace asked Leon with a hopeful expression.
Leon gives her a comforting smile. “Maybe we can save her.”
Grace was almost in disbelief, her face contorting to a relieved smile before turning to look at you when you shoved another antiviral into her hand.
“This is the last one.” You smiled at Grace before taking Leon’s outstretched hand as the both of you walked off, letting Grace process everything by herself.
Leon lets go of your hand before removing the glove off his left hand and then procuring his wedding ring from his pocket to slip it onto his ring finger. “Feels good to have this on me again, I’m happy that I didn’t lose it.”
“You lost your jacket though.” You pointed out in amusement as Leon grabbed your hand with his to hold.
Leon shrugged. “It was more to cover up the virus spreading anyways.”
“Well, I’m not complaining. I appreciate the tight shirt over all your muscles. Your butt looks good in those pants by the way.” You told Leon, the man turning his head to you in surprise when you pinched one of his cheeks.
Leon lets out a low chuckle. “Seems like the antiviral did more than just healed us. Let’s go home and let me show you how much I’ve missed you.”
“Lead the way then, Mr Kennedy.” You giggled.
Leon grinned. “Of course, Mr Kennedy.”
~~~~~
“Oh fuck, Leon.”
You whined as Leon took more of your length into his mouth. The both of you were now at home in your bedroom, Leon lying comfortably in between your legs.
Leon released your cock from his mouth with an audible pop before kissing and nibbling the skin of your inner thighs, making your hips stutter in pleasure as Leon’s hands were forcing them down on the mattress.
“Be patient, baby.” Leon muttered against your thigh before lifting your legs up to rest on his shoulders so he was face to face with your awaiting hole.
Leon’s tongue teases your hole, the slick tip circling your rim before dipping into the crevice but not immediately pushing in.
You hissed, Leon had been teasing you for an hour straight. The man’s mouth having marked every part of your body, especially on your chest where he was practically nursing on your nipples for the better half of that hour.
You got a chuckle from Leon when you tapped the heel of your foot on his shoulder.
Leon took the hint, dipping his tongue into you with a hungry moan that made you throw your head back with a whimper when your husband began to fuck you with his tongue.
You felt the tip of Leon’s sharp nose resting against your taint as he pushed his tongue deeper into you, coating your walls with his saliva and groaning when you squeezed his tongue with your hole.
Once your hole was loose enough by the combination of Leon’s tongue and fingers, your husband lined up his cock with your hole before he slowly pushed himself in.
Leon huffed out a sigh of satisfaction, his eyes closed as he pushed himself deeper inside you while you were whimpering at his sheer girth.
“We’ve been together for twenty-eight years and you’re still as tight as the first time we did this.” Leon told you, leaning his head down to kiss you on the lips as his hips slowly gyrate. His cock going deeper in you, causing you to let out whimper against his lips that he greedily swallowed.
This was Leon’s favourite position, having to be able to see you as he fucked you. Your arms clinging onto his broad back, your attention fully on him as he continued to drive his cock into your warmth.
You let out tiny whimpers when Leon began to pick up the pace, his thrusting pelvis audibly smacking against your ass.
“I love you, I love you, I love you…” Leon muttered, mouthing against your neck and jaw before capturing your lips with his in a bruising kiss.
You knew Leon loved it when your senses were overwhelmed by him. Your eyes only focused on his face, your mouth preoccupied by his, your hands clinging onto his back, the smell of his musk filling up your nostrils and the sound of his gravelly voice in your ears.
Leon’s version of making love meant that the whole world was silent, only the harmonic sounds of your intertwined bodies were present.
“Leon,” You panted, feeling the familiar heat in your gut rising. “You’re gonna make me cum.”
Leon chuckled, biting at the hinge of your jaw as he tilted his hips just enough so his cock was hitting your prostate.
“That’s right baby, you only cum when I’m inside you. You only cum because of me.” Leon muttered, driving his hips faster into you with renewed intensity.
You couldn’t help but to moan and whimper your husband’s name over and over again, your fingernails scratching Leon’s back with every thrust he gave you.
“Oh fuck, Leon.” You cried out as you spilled in between your and Leon’s sweaty bodies, making the other man whimper when the intensity of your release squeezed his cock.
Leon’s thrust suddenly became erratic, the man trying his best not to lose control as he pummelled into you. “Baby, you almost made me came just from that.”
You smirked, your hands moving from Leon’s back to hold his face so you could force him to look at you.
You pushed his sweaty bangs from his face so his eyes met yours. “I want you to fill me up with your babies.”
Leon was caught off guard by your words before groaning in surprise when you suddenly turned your bodies over so you were straddling his lap while his dick was still lodged inside you.
You licked your lips at the sight of your husband’s glistening and sweaty muscles, getting a short cry when you squeezed his cock with your hole.
You then leaned back, your hands resting on Leon’s large thighs as you began to fuck yourself on his cock. Leon’s hands immediately grabbing your hips, his cock dragging within your walls as you continuously lifted yourself up before plopping back down on his lap.
You repeated the process, riding Leon and savouring the man’s moans and whimpers after he had his fun by taking care of your needs first.
Your husband was a considerate lover to say the least.
Leon suddenly shot up from his laid back position on the bed, his arms wrapping themselves around your middle with him mouthing against your chest, indicating that he was getting close.
You squeezed his cock with your hole once again and Leon let out a cry as he spilled his warm seed into you, his body twitching as you continued to squeeze his cock to milk him dry while you were still on his lap.
Leon stayed still, hiding his face in the crook of your neck. You feel his warm and heavy panting on your skin as you softly caressed the back of his head, your lips kissing the crown of his head.
“You good?” You asked Leon, getting a wet chuckle from your husband as he pulled away from your neck to look up at you adoringly.
Leon sighed. “I feel amazing every single time I get to be inside you.”
“I’ll never know how you can turn such a dirty sentence into the sappiest line I’ve ever heard.” You mused, chuckling with Leon as he kissed your exposed collarbone.
Leon huffed. “I love you so much.”
You pulled away, smiling sweetly down at him before leaning back down to peck him on the lips. “I love you more.”
“Not possible.” Leon replied before turning your bodies around so you were lying on the bed, his cock slipping out of your hole before you laughed as the man peppered kisses all over your face.
“Round two?” You breathed out, looking up at Leon’s dilated eyes as he lowered his body on top of yours.
Leon nipped at your jaw, a smirk forming on his face. “Thought you’d never ask.”
*****
Author’s note:
My first smutty Leon fic!
As much as I wanted to write Leon based on the timeline of the games, I simply couldn’t help but write for the older version of him
Might just write more fluff on Leon in the future, this was really fun
Can I request Heian era Sukuna x Husband Male reader hc about how Sukuna treats him both sfw and nsfw pls? (reader is bottom)
TWO SIDES
full art
╰┈➤ heian era! sukuna x husband reader ੈ
A/N: i don’t do requests where reader bottoms or is submissive, just fyi.
➼ SFW
‣❥ sukuna doesn’t really care how his husband lives. he has two requirements for his significant other: they need to be as strong as him, and they need to have a sense of self. which narrows the dating pool by just about the entire human population.
‣❥ he wants someone who can fight, eat, and kill like him. he wants someone who shares his taste for human meat, who knows when and how to indulge, who has a sense of morality that leans to dubious.
‣❥ it’s no surprise sukuna doesn’t really have preferences in regards to his partner’s… anything. man, woman, whatever. as long as they’re strong he’s happy.
‣❥ you were all of those things and more; physically strong, an established sense of self, a little crazy in the way you could match sukuna. your first date knocked a fishing village off the map from the intense fighting.
‣❥ sukuna has two hard lines you’re not allowed to cross. you don’t harm people sexually, as taking advantage of the weak isn’t honorable in his eyes. and you don’t disrespect his appearance. you never planned to do any of those things, so you didn’t have to bother.
➼ NSFW
‣❥ he is rough with you. if you can handle him in combat, you can handle him during sex.
‣❥ at times it feels more like a battle than sex; marking, biting and scratching until blood is drawn, roughhousing until one of you figures out where you want to be.
‣❥ sukuna doesn’t have a preference being top or bottom. he likes to see you squirm, and he can do that over or under you. he prefers being dominant however.
‣❥ loves overstimulation. sukuna fucks you until you feel raw and then some more.
‣❥ his favorite is having you stuffed to the brim; both cocks in your ass and his fingers in your mouth until you drool and cry from the feeling of being full.
‣❥ needs to see your face during sex. he lives for your fucked out expression, whether you’re sucking one of his cocks and pumping the other, or him taking you in missionary.
‣❥ the only time he’ll be submissive is after a long day fighting sorcerers and he just lets you use him. laying back on his throne, his cock thrusting into you with your thighs barely able to wrap around his torso.
Summary: Three hours you spent at the Anchor smiling at some barman with the goal of winding Cook up. Now you're tied to his bed with a t-shirt over your eyes, his dick buried to the root and three years of inventory of your body being used against you one slow stroke at a time.
Tags: No use of Y/N. Male reader. Possessive behavior. Obsessive behavior. Jealousy. Corruption. Bratty reader. ‘Good boy x Bad guy’. Handjob. Degradation. Bondage. Anal sex. Multiple orgasms. Overstimulation. Marking. Top James Cook. Dom James Cook. Bottom male reader.
ℳ𝒶𝓈𝓉ℯ𝓇𝓁𝒾𝓈𝓉 - 𝒫𝓇ℯ𝓋𝒾ℴ𝓊𝓈 𝓅𝒶𝓇𝓉 (though can be read as a standalone no problems) - gifs done by @scrprints
Words count: 5000
Three fuckin' years since that motel, hoodie of his around your frame and his hand on the wheel ending with you crawling over the gearstick to sit in his lap.
A lot had happened in those three years but Cook hadn't changed all that much, still that crooked grin and pale blue eyes that went mean quick, couldn't sit through a film without commentary and grabbed your arse in shop queues at any given chance.
But you'd changed, no longer the same one who'd stood barefoot in a kitchen reading six words on the back of a cig packet was long gone and what remained was something Cook had built without quite meaning to and he quite frankly loved it.
You wanted him constantly, not just in the way of being in love with someone, you'd been in love with him in that way years ago in his bedroom when he'd kissed your knuckles after a fight he'd had on your behalf.
This was different.
Your hand drifting to his thigh under tables in shitty cafés, fingers walking up the inseam of his jeans till his eyes flicked sideways.
Waking him up at three in the morning with your mouth already ‘round him because you couldn't sleep otherwise.
He definitely began noticing those changes.
Small gestures at first like him taking hold of your hand to place on top of his clothed cock in the back row of a near-empty cinema, pretending to watch some Bond rerun and totally expecting you to smack his hand away like usual.
It went with him hissing your name and trying to keep his hips still.
By the end of the film he had you bent over the seats two rows down, hand clapped over your mouth, joggers shoved to your knees, sliding into you slowly and purposely deep while the credits rolled.
"Cook—someone'll come in—"
"Yeah?" he'd breathed against your ear, all teeth. "An' who gives a shite."
The library next, the usual tiny one you'd go in to recover lost time in studying. He tagged along ‘cause he didn’t like the thought of you alone but boredom had soon build up
It was more of a joke when he asked, while you were still deep into reading the book in front of you, if ye were up t’ do somethin’ in here.
To his surprise, you'd led him into a stack of the history section nobody ever bothered with and undone his belt with your eyes locked to his, gone down on your knees on the carpet and taken him in your mouth right there between the shelves.
He'd had to bite down on his own forearm to keep quiet, fist tight in your hair, hips juddering forward into your throat and when he'd come, you'd swallowed every drop, loudly licking your lips before standing up, smiling sweet as anything and asked him if he was ready to go.
"Tha's me good lad, eh? Where the fuck did ye go?" He’d mutter, looking properly stunned, dragging a thumb across your bottom lip.
"Right here," you'd said.
The balcony was his favourite though since the flat had a tiny iron balcony off the bedroom enough for two people to stand on and look out over the back of the chippy and across the rooftops to that grey strip of sea.
One night, summer, you'd gone out there in nothing but a pair of his boxers and leaned over the railing on your forearms and called his name through the bedroom door softly.
"Cook. C'mere."
He'd come out with a cigarette in his teeth and joggers low along a beer can in his hand.
Took one look at you bent over the railing in his boxers with your back arched on purpose and the cigarette had nearly fallen out his mouth.
"Oh ye dirty fuckin' thing," he'd murmured, beer set down on the windowsill, smoking cig stubbed out in the ashtray. "Out here?"
"Why not?"
He'd come up behind you and dragged the boxers down your thighs before kicking your feet apart with the side of his boot. Two slick fingers from the lube he kept on the sill (because of course he kept lube on the sill now, that was the kind of household you ran) and then he'd been pushing in, palms flat over yours on the railing, mouth on the back of your neck and hips pistoning while you bit your lip to the point of tasting blood to keep from screaming.
Somewhere down on the street a bloke was shouting at his dog, gulls were going mental while you were getting fucked stupid above all of it, looking out at the sea.
When you'd come you'd seen white at the edges, knees gone as he'd held you up by the hips and kept fucking you through it.
"Tha's me good fuckin' boy, every fuckin' bastard down there could look up an' see ye gettin' it, see who ye belong to, yeah? Yeah? Bet ye'd let 'em an' all, dirty fuckin' little—"
"Yours," you'd choked, "yours, yours, only yours—"
"Damn fuckin' right."
You'd both laughed about it after, sitting on the bedroom floor with your back against the bed and his arm round your shoulders, sharing a bottle of warm beer and a cigarette he was rolling clumsy with one hand while joking together of the pair of degenerates you’ve become.
There were weeks where you couldn't keep your hands off each other and the flat smelled of sex morning till night, sheets getting changed twice in three days.
But your favourite game, the one you'd grown into proper, was getting Cook wound up on purpose.
The best kind of fuck you only got out of him were when he’s pissed off.
It was a hot Sunday, Cook had said in passing on Tuesday that there was a do at a pub his mate Tony was throwing for his birthday, nothing fancy, just drinks at the Anchor down the front along with music and food. “Would ye come along?”
You agreed and already started thinking by the time he'd kissed your forehead and gone back to his crossword.
When you both walked into the Anchor with your hand on his arm at half seven, Tony had already three pints in and shouting your names from the bar.
Cook got pulled into a one-armed hug and steered into a round before he could protest while you slipped sideways out from under his arm and went to get yourself a drink at the bar.
You could feel his eyes on you from across the room considering the attire you’ve chosen for tonight you knew he loved a lot with the way it clung to your frame perfectly.
The barman was a young lad you hadn't seen before, twenty maybe, broad shoulders, soft jaw, eyes that flicked up and stuck when you leaned an elbow on the bar.
"What can I get ye?"
"Pint of the cider, love."
"Comin' up." Eyes flicked again. "Haven't seen you in here before."
"My fella's mate's birthday."
"Ah." A little pause. "Lucky fella."
Smiling small at the wood of the bar while feeling a particular weight settling on the back of your neck.
"Cheers."
"On the house, that one."
"Yeah?"
"Tony said anyone here for him drinks free first round." A beat. "Or maybe it's just for you."
"Aw."
You took the pint and turned ‘round to spot Cook who hadn't moved from the group at the other end of the bar but he was watching, pint in his hand, expression that informed you of his back teeth grinding.
Raising the pint at him in a small toast, his mouth twitched in acknowledgement.
Through those hours he endured you standing too close to the new barman when you went up for refills, laughing too much at something Tony's brother said.
Suddenly you had gotten very close and touched Cook on the small of the back while talking to someone else before drifting your hand down to give the cheek of his arse a squeeze hidden by the press of bodies before slipping your hand into the back pocket of his jeans.
"Having fun?" you asked all innocence.
Ocean eyes fully on yours, half-lidded, mouth in a flat line.
"Loads."
"You don't look it."
"Mm." His free hand came up and curled round the back of your neck not exactly gentle.
"Ye keep this up," he murmured lowly, lips not quite at your ear, "an' I'm gonna stop bein' polite, pretty thing. Ye know tha'."
His thumb dragged slow up the side of your throat.
"Ye promise?" Smiling up at him, all teeth and his jaw worked before he let go and turned back to Tony, outside for a smoke.
You’ve stayed at the bar and the new barman was leaning on his elbows opposite you, having conversations while answering and laughing.
Cook just so happened to come back in through the side door at exactly that moment where your hand was on the barman’s biceps to test the size of them when he proudly told you that he went to the gym regularly.
A hand clamped on the back of your neck the very next moment.
"Babe," he said, calm in the way you knew meant the very opposite. "Word."
"I'm getting a drink."
"Yeah ye already had enough. Come on." His grip tightened and the barman's eyes flicked up and went a bit too fast down to the glass he was suddenly very busy polishing from sudden fear.
"Now, pretty thing."
You let yourself be turned and walked.
Lord only knows Cook wanted to smack that man’s face on the counter for the way his eyes scanned avidly every detail of your face just like how He did the first time you visited him in jail.
He didn't make a scene, though, because Cook had learned not to do such things in places like this anymore, he'd had three years of practice.
The hand that took your wrist didn't loosen all the way down the front to where the car sat at the kerb.
Tony shouted something cheerful after you two and Cook lifted his free hand in a wave without looking back.
He opened the passenger door and nudged you in with the flat of his hand on the small of your back, closed the door and walked round to get in the driver's side.
He sat there with both hands on the wheel and looked dead ahead at the chip wrappers blowing across the front, breathing in through his nose.
Two in and out.
The way he'd been working on when his temper rose while you observed his profile.
"Cook."
"Don't."
"I didn't do—"
"Don't, babe. Givvus a minute."
You leaned back in the seat, chewed the inside of your cheek to keep from smiling.
He'd see it in the dim from the streetlight if you let it slip and that was an escalation you didn't need yet.
Once he finally turned the key, the engine caught and he pulled away from the kerb smoothly, driving the seafront road, eyes ahead.
"Y' know," he said eventually, a muscle in his jaw going, "I were havin' a nice time… then me lad decides he's gonna be a cunt about it all night."
"I was being polite."
"Polite, aye," he repeated. "That what ye call it. Pretty thing."
You tucked one knee up on the seat, turned half toward him. "Don't be cross."
"Oh I'm a long way past cross, me. Crossed the line of cross hours ago ‘round about when y' let me see what clothes ye were comin’ with."
"You don’t like them?"
"Aye, I like ’em on ye in the bedroom or the sofa. I do not like ‘em on ye smilin' at some fuckin' barman like yer not mine."
"Are you jealous, Cook?" Flutter mode on, wide eyes and innocent look.
He scoffed, short and hard, knuckles on the wheel tightening. "Don't try tha' one."
"What?"
"I taught ye tha' one, mate, ye can't pull it on me."
"You did not teach me—"
"I absolutely taught ye tha'. Last winter wi’ tha' bloke at the post office I were tryin' to talk down."
You snorted before you could stop yourself but there was not even a twitch at the corner of his mouth.
He pulled the car off the seafront, up the back road that ran behind the chippy and parked in the alley.
"Out the car."
He came round and didn't take your arm this time, just walked behind you with one hand low on the small of your back, propelling you up the iron staircase at the back of the building to the flat door.
Keys out, door open and shut with his heel the second you both walked it and threw the keys in the bowl.
"Strip."
A small warm jolt went through you.
"Cook—"
"Don't fuckin' Cook me now. Reckon ye got off on every fuckin' second of those long hours in there, di'n't ye." His eyes dragged down you slowly. "Bet ye're hard right now."
You were and he saw it.
"Tha's wha' I thought. Off." His mouth moved into something that wasn't a smile.
You reached for the hem of the t-shirt slow.
"Faster."
Pulling it over your head and dropping it on the floor.
"Jeans."
Button and zip, pushing them down with the boxers and stepping out.
He came over slowly, one hand came up and trailed one knuckle from your collarbone down the centre of your chest, walking completely behind you then grabbing a cigarette from a pack on the table and lighting it up while you stayed pit with your back on him.
Smoke curled from behind you as the unbuckling of a belt came and a very pressure came from behind right on your arse, very heavy bulge right through his jeans throbbing into your naked arse and your own cock jumped in excitement as he gave small thrust forward and a low grunt rumbled from his chest.
Tentatively, one of your hand moved backward and landed on the muscular front of his right thigh still covered by his jeans while your other hand wrapped slowly around your dick, definitely expecting him to fuck you from behind at any moment.
Your wrists were lashed up suddenly, belt previously around his jeans now doubled and looped clever over them.
“Cook—“ a gasp of surprise from the sudden cold material that kept your hands above your head and locked, body getting pulled by him.
“Bedroom.” It was all he said while pulling your form and, by the time you were on the foot of it, he got in front and pushed you down on it, walking over to the side and knotting the belt with your hand to the slat of the headboard so neat you couldn't get a finger under it without skinning yourself.
Your ankles were the same, one to each corner of the bedframe, legs spread embarrassingly wide, no slack to close them.
He crawled over your frame and the heavy smell of tobacco and that shit body spray washed over you as he tied over your eyes one of his t-shirts, the grey frayed-collar one, folded thick and tied off at the back of your skull.
Every breath you pulled in through your nose, you breathed him.
"Comfy, pretty thing?"
Warm breath heavy with nicotine and alcohol washing over your face from above.
You tried to answer and what came out was a wet noise ‘round the thing he'd put in your mouth, two of his fingers earlier had pressed a folded bit of fabric in past your teeth, “keep tha' there fer me 'less I take it out an' if I take it out it's 'cause I wanna hear ye, not 'cause ye're done.”
The fucker.
"Mm?" You tried again in a whine this time.
"Aye, I bet ye are.” He sounded amused and the mattress dipped.
He was kneeling somewhere down between your spread thighs.
"Christ, babe." Quietly said. "Look at the fuckin' state of ye."
You whined again, low.
"Nah, nah. Not yet. Three hours ye gave me out there. We're a long way off three hours in 'ere yet."
A finger touched your knee and you jerked.
"Easy."
The finger trailed down the inside of your thigh.
He had three fricking years of inventory of your body, knew the path that turned the lights up as his finger reached the crease of your thigh and stopped.
You made an embarrassing noise as his digit went away but you didn't care.
"Shh."
His weight shifted, both hands on you now, palms flat on either side of your hips and his hot wet mouth settled on the dip between your hip and your stomach.
Your cock was already up against your stomach and had been up there since he'd tied the second knot at your ankle, leaking onto your skin in a slow steady drool and getting ignored entirely.
He moved his mouth a fraction to the side, hot breath on the same dead area and you made a sound that was meant to be his name.
"Wha' were tha', babe? Use yer words. Oh wait." A small low laugh. "Tha's right, ye can't."
Then his hands were on your inner thighs, callused and large palms sliding up slowly over the dip of your hipbones, up the sides of your ribs and over your chest, thumbs catching your nipples in passing and rubbing once and your back came up off the bed with a strangled noise.
"Oh." His thumbs went back, pressed and rolled.
The dark pink flesh had gone tight and erected.
His mouth closed over one and his teeth grazed, tongue flicking as he sucked and the noise you made ‘round the gag was muffled and broken.
Switching prey, he stayed there a long time on the other one and your stomach was juddering, cock hard enough to hurt, slapping flat to your abdomen, leaking steadily.
By the time he lifted his head off your chest you were already shaking.
"Aw, pretty thing." Soft, thumb tracing a line of spit off your nipple. "Ye're havin' a nice time so far?"
You nodded furious and his mouth was on your throat to take a bite right where he liked and making you wail into the gag as he sucked the bite.
He worked down your throat on both sides, across your collarbones and down the centre of your chest, in the line of dark hair he'd been growing out and trimming, his stubble dragging.
By the time his mouth reached your sternum your whole front half was a map of fresh hot bruises.
He skipped your cock entire, mouth brushing past the inside of your thigh and settling on the meat of your thigh to bite down and sucking dark.
"Mm." Pleased noise into your skin. "Tha's a good one. Tha'll be there a fer t’ night."
You were trying to roll your hips up into the drag of the duvet under your arse and you couldn't move much because of the rope.
Every attempted movement just made the rope bite your wrists and ankles.
When he finally touched your cock it was with one fingertip drawn light from base to tip and you came up off the bed as far as the rope let you with a noise meant to be pleased and a muffled scream.
"Easy. Easy, babe. There we go."
The fingertip lifted off.
"Nope, pretty thing. Not yet. Not anywhere near yet." He was almost laughing. "Three fuckin' hours ye made me sit there watchin' some fuckin' barman with 'is tongue out for ye an' ye bein' all sweet. Tha's a long bill, babe."
He lifted off the bed entirely and you heard him moving the drawer of the bedside cabinet, familiar rattle of the lid of that little jar of coconut oil he'd started using because the supermarket lube had given you a rash once and he wouldn't go back.
Lid off and wet sound of his fingers in it.
Two thick and oiled things pushed up into you in one smooth shove and you arched while he made a small dark pleased noise.
"Aye, tha's it. Open up fer me. Tha's me boy."
He worked you with two fingers without urgency at all, slow long strokes curling on the way out.
He knew where it was as he went near it and away repeatedly, finding it on a curl and giving you one perfect drag and your whole body would jerk before he'd pull out and reposition to miss it on purpose for ten strokes in a row.
Properly drooling ‘round the gag at the point three fingers went in and they found your prostate together, pressing and and holding.
White went off behind the blindfold as your cock jumped and a thick spurt of precome splattered onto your abdomen.
He pulled his fingers out right as you were on the verge to come, wailing as he left you empty and cold.
You were crying into the t-shirt over your eyes a bit by then, corners overspilling while he bent and kissed the corner of one closed eye through the fabric.
"Shh. Ye're a'right. Ye're doin' so well."
His mouth stayed there for a second before it went down your body again and he took you in slowly, all the way to the base, throat working ‘round you while there was no way of moving your hands or legs.
All you could do was buck up about an inch into the heat of his mouth before he pulled off, dragging his tongue up the underside to than clamp a hand round the base of your cock hard, thumb and finger ringing tight and squeezing.
The orgasm fizzled out of you in a sad twitch.
Two weak pulses against his fingers and nothing came, the denial of it ripped through your stomach as he held you like that till the urge faded back down.
Counted under his breath to thirty while you twitched and then he let go before his mouth went back on to repeat the process.
By the fourth time you weren't making words anymore but just one continuous broken sound through the gag, drool soaking the fabric in your mouth and the pillow under your head, t-shirt over your eyes a mess.
Your cock was so hard it was purple, swollen up thick and aching and so sensitive that the air on it was almost too much.
He was settled comfortably between your thighs, forearm across your hips to pin you down. The other hand idly stroking the inside of your thigh, knuckles drifting back and forth before he bit the inside of your thigh, making you jerk.
He shifted in his position, mattress shifted as the wet of his mouth left your thigh.
"Reckon ye've earned it."
His cock dragged along the underside of yours, slick and heavy. You hadn't felt him take his joggers off but he had, now bare against you, his thick cock laid along your length and he just rolled his hips lazy, shaft sliding over yours with the oil from his hand, pressing both your cocks together against your abdomen and the friction of it was the most you'd had in two hours yet it was nowhere fucking near enough.
You howled into the gag.
"Mm." He was breathing harder now, finally. "Christ, ye're a state."
The slow grinds kept coming, drag of his cock against yours while leaking too, hot and slippery, both of you smearing against your stomach.
He did it for a long time till you'd stopped making sound and were just breathing, ragged and broken, head turned to one side, jaw slack round the gag.
Then he stopped and sat back, blunt of him suddenly at your entrance.
You were so loose and slick from all the work he'd done with his fingers that he sank in halfway in one push, hot heavy fill as your back came up off the bed and a long broken vowel came out of your mouth.
He pushed the rest all the way to the base, hips flush and heavy balls pressed against your arse, buried to the hilt and held there a long time.
You could feel him pulsing inside you, his breath was uneven against your knee where he'd hooked your leg up over his arm, enjoying the way you fluttered all around him.
He bent forward, damn near folded you in half if the ropes would let him and his hands come up to your face, one thumb hooking the edge of the cloth in your mouth and easing it out, jaw aching open.
"Ye still wi' me, babe?"
You tried.
"…Cook—" Wrecked, voice nothing at this point and tongue clumsy.
He moved slowly all the way out till just the head was caught, sliding then back in.
You were so sensitive and worked over that you could feel every individual ridge of him going past, the thick swell of the head, heavy length and press of his abs against the back of your thighs when he was into the root.
He did it again and again while you'd been at the brink for so long that even slow thrusts were enough to push you up the cliff, cock twitching against your stomach and sounds rising in your throat as he slowed the second he saw it right down to nothing, hips barely moving.
"No—Cook—no—"
"Shh."
"Please, please please please, Cook please, I can't—"
"Aye ye can. Ye can do it fer me. Ye said ye could do anythin' I asked, years ago in tha' shitty fuckin' room. Ye remember tha'."
"Yes—yes—"
"This is wha' I want ye t’ fuckin' do."
He held himself buried, hips pressed flush, a slow tiny rocking that wasn't enough to push you over but kept you right there at the edge.
"Pretty fuckin' thing." Almost reverent. "Look at ye… made fer this."
He pulled out slow and, as you opened your mouth to beg again, he changed.
Taking your second leg in his other arm and hooking it up too, took your full weight onto the bend of his elbows and his hands at your hips as he started fucking you properly hard.
The thump of his hips against your arse the only sound for a second, followed by a low grunt with every drive in and the broken noises out of the broken mess he had below.
He was hitting your prostate with every stroke dead centre and the cliff you'd been hanging off for two hours rushed up as you came untouched.
You came with hands tied above your head, ankles tied wide and his cock buried to the root inside you cock pulsing thick white over your abdomen in long ropes, splashing up your chest and onto your throat, the rope at your wrists and at your ankles going taut.
He fucked you straight through it, no stopping or slowing down but still hard steady drives and your come painted up your stomach was getting smeared and pushed by the press of his abs against you on every thrust while he was grunting low in your ear after he'd folded down over you again.
"Tha's one," he said into your jaw. "Tha's one fer the three hours."
"Cook, oh god, Cook, please, can't—"
"Aye ye can." He sat up again and never ceased the brutal way he approached to fuck you.
Even worse he took one hand off your hip and wrapped it round your cock.
Right after coming, his hand on you was searing and he didn't go gentle but he stroked you in time with his thrusts, slick from your own come, slow firm pulls and your hips were trying to twist away from him to not avail because of the rope and his cock buried deep and linking you to him.
Cock of your own hardening back up under his hand inside a minute because you were so far gone you didn't know up from down anymore.
"There 'e fuckin' goes."
Pace picked up and the bed was knocking against the wall.
Fella in the chippy downstairs would be definitely staring at his ceiling but none of you cared.
You came again, a weak shuddering pulse over his fist, dribbling down his fingers, cock twitching pathetic in his grip and your whole body going slack and then bowing up, sob that came out of you was completely broken as he kept plugging your hole with his large member.
"One more, pretty thing."
"I can't—"
"Ye can. One more. Ye're gonna come wi' me, I know ye can."
His hand left your cock to pull the t-shirt off your eyes.
The light hit and you blinked stupid into it before your sight focused on the sight above.
Stubble shining with sweat, dark hair stuck flat to his forehead and pale blue eyes black with huge pupils, mouth open and lips swollen pink.
Each layer of muscles he built was moving as his hips drove down into you and his stomach tightened, V of his hipbones cut clean above where his thick cock was disappearing into you over and over and over.
He looked wrecked but also like the most beautiful thing you'd ever seen.
His eyes locked onto yours and held.
"There 'e is," he breathed. "There's me lad."
"Cook—"
"Eyes on me, pretty thing. Don't lose me."
"Yours…"
"Aye. Mine. Say it."
"Yours, only yours, Cook—"
His pace went sloppy, control dropping the constant hammering, abs slapping against your spent cock somehow stirring against him a third time because you were that far gone.
"Babe—" wrecked, "babe, gonna— gonna fill ye up, wanna mark ye proper every fuckin' inch of ye."
"Yes—yes—yes, please—"
He pushed in deep and held as he came.
Hot and immense flood of it expanded everywhere as you felt his cock jump inside you and he was groaning long and low with his forehead pressed to your sternum, hands fisted in the duvet either side of your head.
He held himself there for a long time before lifting his head and looking at you before reaching up and undoing the rope at your wrists.
Your arms came down slack as he caught one and kissed the inside of the wrist where the rope had reddened it before freeing the other one.
He undid your ankles next, one by one, kissed and massaged each one a second all while staying seated inside, plug of him keeping his come held in deep as he lowered himself down onto your chest and let his weight settle.
Your arms came up shaking to go ‘round his sturdy back.
Neither of you spoke for a long time as his and your breathing slowed.
"Pretty thing," he muttered, eventually, mouth at your temple. "Did you really plan all tha’ stuff t’ get on me?"
A small huff against your skin. "Yeah"
"Bastard."
"Mm."
You laughed croaked, throat a wreck as he joined in laughter too into your hair.
"Y' alright?"
"…Yeah."
"Good." His thumb stroked your jaw. "'Cause we've got the rest of the night, babe an' I'm not anywhere near done wi' ye."
You shivered against him and he kissed the corner of your mouth, chest rumbling in laughter at your reaction.
Since the redfields got a new brother, could Jill also get one 😂 (maybe one who’s not a civilian)
it takes two to tango
and he could do with a partner
tags | male!reader, agent!reader, valentine!reader, descriptions of canon typical violence
Backup was supposed to arrive an hour ago.
Leon is sure of it.
Even though he hasn’t stayed in one place long enough to be cornered completely, he’s starting to accept the possibility that his distress call fell on deaf ears.Not that he’d been able to give an exact rendezvous point in the first place. Still, he’d hoped the “good guys” would be a little more efficient when it came to helping people.
You know… doing good.
Leon can’t even remember how many operations he’s run at this point, but since his first deployment, this one is easily the worst.
A string of disappearances in a rural village had led the government to suspect Umbrella Corporation was back to its usual tricks. With barely more than a hunch to justify it, Leon Kennedy had been sent in to investigate and — if he found probable cause — burn the whole damn operation to the ground.
Standard procedure.
Or at least, that’s what he’d expected.
Stakeout. Surveillance. Maybe a firefight or two before calling in Alpha Team to sweep the area clean.
Nothing he couldn’t handle.
Instead, the situation spiraled out of control almost immediately.
To be fair, intel had been scarce but Christ, they’d missed some important details.
The infected here were… organized.
Trained.
They moved with disturbing coordination, and the scientists Leon had spotted throughout the compound hadn’t been attacked until recently.
Something had changed.
Then the head researcher snapped.
The bastard slaughtered his own people, grabbed whatever data he needed, and unleashed some kind of override command that sent the infected into a frenzy. Whatever control they’d once operated under vanished instantly.
After that, everything became chaos.
Leon had tried to intercept him.
Hell, he’d gotten close enough to put a gun to the man’s head.
Then the dead swarmed him.
And now here he was — trapped inside a barricaded mansion on the outskirts of the village while the infected tore the place apart room by room.
The few that had broken inside already weren’t the issue.
Ammo was.
Leon shoved through another set of doors with a grunt, slamming them shut behind him as guttural snarls echoed through the hall.
Library. Good enough.
He grabbed a nearby bookshelf and shoved it against the doors with all the strength he had left. The wood groaned.
Hopefully, it would hold. For now.
Leon finally let himself breathe, collapsing onto the floor hard enough to rattle his bones. Every muscle in his body screamed in protest.
No matter how many infected he put down, there were always more waiting around the next corner.
He was exhausted and starting to think rescue wasn’t coming.
With a heavy sigh, Leon pulled out his communicator and switched it on one last time.
“Rook to HQ,” he muttered tiredly. “Requesting backup. Requesting evac. I repeat — Rook to HQ…”
A pause.
Then quieter—
“…to anyone. Please.”
The desperation in his voice sounded foreign to him. He hadn’t sounded like that since his rookie days.
Static crackled in response.
Leon cursed under his breath.
Behind him, the barricade shook violently. The infected had found him again.
Frustration surged hot through his chest. Leon stood abruptly, arm cocked back to launch the communicator straight into the damn wall.
Then—
Static cut in again.
This time, followed by a voice.
“Bluebird to Rook. Do you copy?”
Leon froze.
The communicator nearly slipped from his hand.
“Hello?” he answered immediately, fumbling with the signal. “Whoever this is — can you hear me?”
A familiar laugh crackled softly through the line.
“Loud and clear, Kennedy.”
Jill Valentine.
Relief hit him all at once.
“My guardian angel,” Leon muttered.
Jill snorted. “Save the flirting for after extraction. Sitrep?”
That sounded more like her.
Leon quickly relayed everything — the infected movements, the researcher, the collapse of the compound, the mansion.
Jill listened carefully, occasionally cutting in with sharp questions.
For the first time in hours, Leon didn’t feel completely alone.
“You did good, Leon,” she said finally. “We’ll get you out.”
The words eased something tight in his chest.
“Bluebird is handling air support. We’ve got Cupid’s Bow en route to your location now to assist with rendezvous.”
Leon blinked.
“…Cupid’s Bow?”
Who the hell approved that callsign?
Chris would rather die than use something like that.
Maybe Carlos?
The barricade slammed again, pulling him back to reality.
Right.
Survive first. Make fun of the callsign later.
Leon inhaled sharply and moved the bookshelf aside.
He gripped the doorknob.
Then shoved the doors open.
A zombie immediately turned toward him with a wet growl, arms reaching.
Leon raised his pistol—
A shotgun blast exploded through the hallway before he could fire.
The infected’s head disappeared instantly.
Leon ducked as blood and gore sprayed across the walls.
“Shit!”
The corpse crumpled at his feet.
Leon looked up.
An unfamiliar agent stood at the end of the hall, shotgun still smoking.
“Cupid’s Bow?” Leon asked.
You nodded once, already pressing a hand to your comms.
“Bluebird, I found your guy.”
Leon studied you carefully while you checked the surrounding corridors.
Veteran posture. Disciplined weapon handling. Calm under pressure.
Whoever trained you knew exactly what they were doing.
Then the communicator crackled again.
“How many times do I have to tell you to use callsigns during joint operations?” Jill snapped through the speaker.
You rolled your eyes immediately.
“Is now really the time for that, sis?”
Leon blinked.
“…Jill has a brother?”
“In the flesh.”
That explains your prowess.
You spun the shotgun casually before offering Leon your hand.
He reached to shake it—
Movement caught his eye.
One of the infected behind you twitched violently, half its skull still intact as it reached for your leg.
Leon reacted instantly.
He grabbed your shotgun, stepped in close, and fired point-blank.
The infected’s body now laid lifeless for certain without a head.
Silence followed.
Then Leon realized exactly how close he was standing.
One arm wrapped around your waist.
The other gripping your weapon.
You stared at him, amused.
“Smooth move, Rook.”
Leon immediately let go, ears burning faintly pink.
“Sorry.”
You laughed softly. “Relax. I’m teasing.”
God.
It had been a while since someone managed to make him flustered.
The tension in the room eased instantly.
Until Jill interrupted again.
“Bluebird to Cupid’s Bow,” she said flatly. “What’s your ETA to extraction? Over.”
You pressed a hand to your comm.
“Ten minutes, Bluebird. Cupid’s Bow out.”
“That’s not how you use—”
The line abruptly cut.
You grinned.
“She’s gonna kill me when we get back.”
Leon found himself smiling despite everything.
You checked your shotgun and nodded toward the hallway.
“C’mon, Rook.”
The moment you open the next set of doors, Leon knows the easy part is over.
The hallway beyond is narrow and dimly lit, lined with old portraits and cracked wallpaper stained dark with blood. Somewhere deeper inside the mansion, wood splinters violently.
Then—
A scream cuts through the halls.
Short.
Wet.
Leon stiffens instantly.
“Not a zombie,” you mutter.
He hears it too.
The infected in this place don’t scream.
Something else is in the mansion.
“Movement,” Leon warns.
Three infected stagger from the far hallway almost immediately, drawn by the noise. One wears the remains of a lab coat, jaw hanging by strips of flesh as it drags itself forward.
You react first.
Your shotgun erupts with a deafening blast that caves in the scientist’s chest and sends it crashing into the wall behind it.
Leon pivots smoothly, dropping the second infected with two clean shots to the head.
The third reaches him before he can fire again.
Rotting hands grab for his throat.
Leon curses, shoving the creature back before driving his knife up beneath its jaw. The infected spasms violently.
Then stills.
“You always let them get that close?” you ask while reloading.
Leon kicks the corpse off his blade.
“Only when I’m trying to impress someone.”
You snort.
Then the entire hallway shakes.
A heavy impact slams somewhere above you.
Dust rains from the ceiling.
Both of you look up.
“…that can’t be good,” Leon mutters.
The ceiling caves in.
A grotesque creature crashes into the hallway in a shower of wood and plaster.
Leon immediately recognizes the signs.
Plaga mutation.
Its limbs bend unnaturally, skin split open with pulsing black growths, while a massive exposed jaw opens sideways with a screech.
“Well,” you say flatly, pumping your shotgun again, “that’s unfortunate.”
The creature lunges.
Leon barely shoves you both aside before claws rip through the floorboards where you’d been standing.
“Move!”
You split instantly.
Training. Instinct.
Leon fires rapidly while circling left, drawing its attention as you duck behind overturned furniture.
Bullets tear through its torso. The thing barely reacts.
“Head’s not working!” Leon shouts.
“Then hit something bigger!”
Easy for you to say.
The monster charges him full force.
Leon dives sideways just before it smashes through the wall behind him in an explosion of splintered wood.
The mansion groans around all of you.
This place is coming apart.
You slide across the floor on one knee, firing directly into the creature’s exposed shoulder joint. The blast tears off one of its arms completely.
Black blood sprays the walls.
The thing shrieks.
“Nice shot!” Leon calls.
“It’s still moving!”
Right.
Problem.
The creature whips around suddenly — straight toward you.
Leon sees it happen a second too late.
“Duck!”
You drop instantly as Leon unloads the remainder of his magazine over your shoulder.
The final round catches the creature in the exposed mouth. The thing recoils violently.
You don’t waste the opportunity.
“Flashbang!”
Leon shuts his eyes on instinct.
Light detonates through the hallway.
The creature screams.
You surge forward immediately, grabbing Leon by the shoulder and yanking him with you as you sprint straight past it.
“Wait — we’re running?!”
“You got more bullets?”
“…fair point.”
The mansion shakes again as the creature recovers behind you.
Its enraged shrieks echo through the halls.
You round another corner hard, nearly colliding with two more infected.
Leon grabs one by the ruined collar and slams it headfirst into the wall while you shove your combat knife through the second’s temple.
The teamwork is seamless now.
Fast.
Fluid.
Like you’ve known each other longer than thirty minutes.
“Left!” you shout.
Leon spins instantly, firing a single shot into an infected crawling from beneath a collapsed table.
You grab his vest immediately after, jerking him backward as claws slash through the space where his face had been a second earlier.
“Careful, Rook.”
Your hand is still gripping his vest.
Close.
Too close.
For half a second, the two of you just stare at each other while chaos erupts around you.
Then the creature smashes through the wall again. You both break apart as it darts between both then trips over the table.
You share a look.
“Later!” Leon shouts.
You laugh breathlessly. “Definitely later!”
Both of you sprint down the staircase as the monster barrels after you, tearing through the mansion like a battering ram.
The lower floors are worse.
More infected.
More bodies.
The smell of rot hangs thick in the air now.
Leon reloads while running.
“How far to extraction?!”
“Three minutes if we don’t die first!”
“Comforting!”
Another infected lunges from a doorway.
Leon shoots it midair.
You slam the door shut behind it while Leon jams a fallen pipe through the handles.
The creature behind you crashes into the barricade hard enough to rattle the walls.
But it holds.
Barely.
For the moment.
You both stop just long enough to catch your breath.
Leon bends slightly, hands braced on his knees.
You’re breathing hard too.
Sweaty.
Covered in blood that thankfully doesn’t seem to belong to either of you.
Then you grin at him.
“You know,” you say between breaths, “for a guy trapped in a death mansion, you’re holding up pretty well.”
Leon laughs despite himself.
“Yeah?”
He reloads with a sharp click.
“You’re not so bad either, Cupid.”
The way you smile at that—
God.
He’s in trouble.
Then Jill’s voice crackles through comms again.
“Bluebird to Cupid’s Bow — tell me you two aren’t blowing up the mansion.”
Leon looks around at the destruction surrounding you.
The collapsing staircase.
The burning hallway.
The screaming mutant still somewhere upstairs.
He presses the comms.
“…define ‘blowing up.’”
Jill groans immediately.
And for the first time all mission—
Leon genuinely smiles.
The door groans from the weight pressing on the other side and the metal pipe begins to bend.
Relaxation can wait till after. Leon thinks quickly on his feet.
“Out the window?” He suggests.
“Only way out.” You nod and start the charge as you both barrel through. Running for your lives away from the collapsing building.
By the time you reached the forest behind the mansion, the worst of it was over.
The extraction helicopter waited in a clearing nearby while agents secured the perimeter.
Jill was the first to greet Leon.
She pulled him into a tight hug without hesitation.
Relief.
Concern.
History.
Leon hugged her back just as tightly before finally pulling away.
Then Jill’s expression hardened as she noticed the other agents staring.
“What are you idiots waiting for?” you cut in quickly. “Let’s move!”
The team scrambled immediately.
Jill shot you a thankful look—
followed immediately by an annoyed glare.
“Leon,” she sighed, crossing her arms, “I see you’ve met my younger brother. The one incapable of following basic comms protocol.”
You grinned smugly and stuck your tongue out at her.
Childish.
Completely unashamed.
Leon couldn’t help the laugh that escaped him.
You dropped into the seat beside him while the helicopter lifted into the air.
Leon extended a hand.
“Never got your name.”
You took it firmly, introducing yourself properly this time.
Your grip lingered just a second longer than necessary.
Subtle.
But not subtle enough.
Jill kicked your boot immediately.
You only winked at Leon before finally letting go.
Leon leaned back in his seat as the helicopter carried all of you away from the burning village below.
plss more jock!leon and nerd!reader, maybe they study together?? or whatever?? get high?? who knows
previously
not something you want,
but something you need
male!reader, University!au, nerd!reader, jock!leon, cheating/tw, reader and zeno are toxic, continuation of twink!reader, no smut but mentions of an erection lol
You’ve been avoiding Leon.
Well, not exactly avoiding him, but definitely going out of your way not to see him again.
You’ve started taking longer routes to lectures, bailing on hangouts whenever Zeno mentions the rest of the team showing up, even staying home during shared discussion hours just to avoid the possibility of running into him.
Maybe, to anyone else, it would seem dramatic.
But if they’d spent an unforgettable seven minutes in a closet with one of their boyfriend’s teammates, they’d probably panic too.
Of course, Zeno doesn’t suspect a thing — or maybe he’s just never paid enough attention to notice your turmoil.
To him, you’re still hopelessly in love with him. That night was nothing more than alcohol-fueled stupidity. At least, that’s what he wants you to believe instead of acknowledging how much he’s been around lately.
The guilt gnaws at you enough that you play dumb for your own sanity, pretending the whole thing never happened.
And somehow, that works.
For a week.
Despite how the memory lingers in your dreams in the best possible way, you make it through without issue.
No Leon.
No fights with Zeno.
No problems.
You’re in the clear. Mostly.
A stack of books tumbles from your cart after a freshman clips the corner without looking. The sharp clatter echoes through the library, just loud enough for the librarian to appear from seemingly nowhere and shush you like it was your fault.
You apologize anyway, crouching to gather the scattered books.
Working part-time at the campus library isn’t glamorous, but it passes the time and puts extra money in your pocket for relatively little effort.
Collect books. Reshelve them. Help students find things they could’ve searched online themselves.
Easy.
More importantly, it’s quiet — a welcome escape from the exhausting chaos that comes with dating Zeno.
Your phone buzzes in your pocket.
You pull it out and check the message.
Speak of the devil.
going out with the boys. don’t wait up tonight.
You stare at the screen for a moment longer than necessary.
Finals week is creeping closer, which means the library stays open later and fills with students desperately trying to absorb entire semesters overnight.
You’ve gotten good at noticing who comes and goes.
Mostly because you’re usually the one stuck fixing whatever mess they leave behind.
So naturally, your irritation deepens as you push your cart toward the study rooms and glance through the windows.
And immediately stop.
Zeno’s lying.
His boys are here.
Albert stands at the chalkboard, aggressively working through an equation while Ethan looks seconds away from throwing himself through the glass. Carlos laughs loudly at something Ethan says, and you glance back down at the text on your phone.
Something sour twists in your chest.
Maybe you stop being the one who puts up with everything.
You hate that thought. Leon’s words an echo of doubt ever since you heard them.
Your eyes flick back toward the room just as Albert notices you. He smiles faintly and gives a small wave. The others quickly follow.
You force yourself to smile back, lifting your fingers in greeting.
Ethan mouths help me dramatically before Carlos yanks him into a headlock.
A laugh slips out before you can stop it.
No wonder the librarian hates them.
Your gaze drifts across the room again before catching on the far corner.
And freezing.
Leon sits near the back with a clipboard balanced against his knee, half-covered in equations and messy doodles.
He’s already looking at you.
That same look from the party.
Surprised. Focused. Like he hadn’t expected to see you either.
The eye contact lasts too long.
You break first.
Quickly pushing your cart forward, you turn on your heel and disappear down the nearest aisle before the old wheels can squeak loud enough to betray you. Not running but something close.
A second later, you hear the study room door open.
Shit. Maybe a bit of running.
You abandon the cart entirely and weave through the shelves, ducking deeper into the archive section.
Left. Right. Another right.
You know this place better than anyone besides the librarian himself, and even he rarely ventures this far back.
Your footsteps stay light and quick, almost feline — not at all like a grown man sprinting through a college library.
It’s ridiculous.
Completely ridiculous.
But you can’t seem to stop running.
Eventually, you slow to a halt and listen.
This deep in the archives, all you can hear is the low hum of the overhead lights.
You sigh in relief.
Maybe you lost him.
You wait another minute crouched low between the shelves before finally standing again.
You turn —
And immediately collide with someone solid.
You nearly yelp, but a hand clamps over your mouth before the sound can escape.
Wide-eyed, you look up.
Leon.
His other hand rises, finger pressed to his lips.
You nod quickly.
Leon slowly removes his hand from your mouth. Neither of you speaks.
The silence stretches unbearably thin.
“Excuse me,” you whisper finally, trying to sidestep him.
Leon moves faster.
Before you can react, you’re lifted clean off the ground.
“Leon—!”
The protest barely escapes above a whisper before he’s already carrying you deeper into the archives.
He shoulders open the supply closet door, slips inside with you still in his arms, then kicks it shut behind him.
Your back on the floor as soon as you were off it. He turns away from you.
The lock clicks.
“Leon, you can’t be—”
The rest of your sentence disappears the moment he turns around.
He looks furious.
Not cold furious.
Wounded furious.
His brows are drawn tight, lips pulled into a sharp frown, blue eyes fixed on you with an intensity that makes your stomach flip.
“…serious,” you finish weakly.
The closet is cramped, not nearly as small as the last one, but still close enough that one step backward has your shoulders brushing cleaning supplies.
Leon closes the distance instantly.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean for anything to—”
He kisses you before you can finish.
Hard.
Desperate.
Your brain short-circuits for exactly one second before your body reacts on instinct.
Your hands grab his face immediately, and Leon lets out a rough sound against your mouth as he pulls you closer.
Cold fingers slide beneath your shirt, gripping bare skin.
You shiver.
Leon doesn’t let you pull away for even a second.
His teeth catch your lower lip before he finally breaks the kiss long enough to mutter:
“Jump.”
That’s all the warning you get.
He’s already lifting you again before you can process it, hands firmly under your thighs as your legs instinctively wrap around his waist.
Your back hits the wall.
You gasp softly as Leon kisses you again, even hungrier this time.
Your arms slide around his shoulders, pulling him impossibly closer.
When he finally pulls away, it’s only to press heated kisses along your neck.
“You’ve been avoiding me.”
His voice comes out lower than you’ve ever heard it before.
You shake your head automatically.
Leon pinches your side lightly in response.
A punishment for lying.
“I don’t like that,” he murmurs against your collarbone before sucking a mark into the skin there.
You should care.
You really should stop him.
Instead, your head tips back against the wall.
“I’m sorry, Leon,” you breathe.
The sound seems to affect him instantly because he groans against your throat before kissing you again.
Slower this time.
“Don’t apologize, baby,” he says softly against your lips. “Just make it better.”
And honestly?
You try.
By the time the tension finally settles, you’re both breathless and trying to straighten your clothes like two guilty teenagers.
Leon stands in front of the tiny mirror attempting to fix his hair while redoing the buttons on his jacket.
You smooth down your sweater, still catching your breath.
Leon breaks the silence first.
“Sorry,” he mutters, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s just… been a while since I’ve seen you.”
For the first time since dragging you in here, he can’t look you in the eye.
You laugh quietly.
“It’s okay,” you say. “I’m sorry too.”
Leon finally glances your way.
The look lasts all of two seconds before he suddenly grabs your face and kisses you again.
This one is different.
Gentler.
Almost embarrassingly affectionate.
You laugh against his mouth and shove lightly at his chest.
“Okay, down boy,” you tease. “I’m still on the clock.”
Leon opens his mouth to respond before his eyes drift downward.
To the marks blooming beneath your collar.
His entire face immediately turns pink.
“Oh my God,” he groans, pressing his forehead against the wall.
You snort, covering the exposed area by linking another button.
“Sorry.” He mumbles into the wall.
“It’s kind of cute,” you admit.
“That’s not helping.”
You laugh again while fixing yourself enough to look vaguely presentable before moving toward the door.
Leon, meanwhile, remains firmly planted in what has now become his shame corner.
You unlock the door before pausing.
He isn’t following.
“Leon?”
He groans dramatically without turning around.
“What’s wrong,” you step closer and he immediately angles his lower half away from you. “Oh.”
Right.
That’s wrong.
You slap a hand over your mouth to keep from laughing.
Leon’s ears burn crimson.
“What?” he mutters defensively. “You look hot all disheveled. You can’t expect me not to get hard after all that.”
Your laugh escapes anyway.
“Just give me a minute to calm down,” he grumbles.
Shaking your head, you move closer and press a quick kiss to his cheek before slipping out the door.
Behind you, Leon makes a wounded noise.
“That didn’t help!”
You leave him there anyway.
It doesn’t take long to relocate your abandoned cart and slip back into your routine.
Eventually, the boys pass through the library on their way out.
Leon lingers just long enough to throw you a wink.
Your stomach flips all over again.
You don’t have to be the one getting walked over.
His words echo in your head the rest of the night.
Zeno may have started this mess first, but that doesn’t make what you’re doing any better.
You pull out your phone, teeth worrying your bottom lip as your fingers move across the screen.
not exactly sure how it should go, m!reader who’s the only one that picks up on leon’s sketchy behaviour, m!reader who becomes a little too obsessed trying to solve it, leon who thinks it’s cute he has such an clumsy stalker, until he realises m!reader isn’t clumsy and has way more information on him than leon though was possible, leon does everything to make m!reader be obsessed with him, scandalous
𝐈’𝐋𝐋 𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐌 𝐉𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐘𝐎𝐔
leon kennedy x m!reader
𝐈𝐍𝐂𝐋𝐔𝐃𝐄𝐒 ! ── after realizing someone is stalking him, leon dismisses you as a harmless “fan” only to discover you’re actually terrifyingly smart about it and have built an unnervingly accurate psychological profile on him. lowk a mood change at the end.
You first noticed it with small things.
It wasn’t anything too dramatic. It wasn’t anything that was easily noticed nor was it anything that would make someone pause and think.
But you did.
Like the way Leon always arrived earlier than he should’ve been able too. Like how he never seemed to be surprised by anything, even when he should’ve been. Like the way he checked almost every reflection—windows, particularly shiny metal, car mirror–without making it obvious.
And the biggest thing?
People around him kept disappearing like they were gently erased from existence.
At first, you told yourself you were reading too much into it. That was the normal thing to do. But you didn’t let it go
You started watching him more closely after that.
Not in a sloppy way either. You made it look accidental—standing near the wrong hallway, showing up late to places on purpose so you could observe exits, acting like you were just another person trying to keep up.
Leon noticed you.
But he read you completely wrong.
“Kid’s pretty clumsy,” he’d mutter under his breath, watching you. “Always in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
You almost laughed out loud when you heard that.
Clumsy, huh?
If only he knew how much effort it took to look like that.
Because you weren’t clumsy. You were building a new identity.
Every movement, every accident, every ounce of hesitation—it was all under control. You were mapping him out piece by piece without him realizing he was just a puzzle for you to solve. And Leon? He just kept treating you like a harmless puppy that kept tripping over itself.
He even started softening toward you in a way that was almost annoying.
“You’re gonna hurt yourself doing that,” he said once, catching you by the elbow when you “slipped” near a stairwell.
You looked up at him, wide-eyed, like you were embarrassed.
“Sorry,” you murmured. “I didn’t see it.”
He gave a small huff like it was cute. Like you were just some kid trying too hard to keep up in a world you didn’t fully understand.
That was the part that made this so easy.
Because while he thought you were struggling to keep pace with him, you already had more information on him than most agencies would ever get approved to access.
His schedules. Alternate routes. Behavior triggers. Cleaned records that weren’t actually clean if you knew where to look.
Leon never once considered the possibility that the “clumsy guy” quietly trailing him wasn’t following his footsteps—you were ahead of him. Always.
Still, you didn’t correct his assumption. Now wasn’t the time to reveal yourself.
They way he underestimated you made everything run smoother and a helluva lot more interesting.
Leon, meanwhile, just kept going about his work, occasionally glancing back at you like you were a stray problem he hadn't decided what to do with yet.
If only he knew you weren't trying to keep up with him. You were already waiting for him at the finish line.
༶•┈┈୨୧┈┈•༶
Leon, obviously, has dealt with many threats before.
The kind that don't hesitate. The kind that harm just for fun. So when he clocked you trailing him for the third time that week, he didn't exactly feel alarmed.
Just... mildly entertained.
Because you weren't good at it.
At least, that's the side of you that he's been seeing.
You were currently walking too close behind him again, pretending to be absorbed in something else while matching his pace a little too perfectly. Then you bumped into a street sign.
Hard.
It made a sharp metallic clang.
"Oh, s- sorry!”
Leon didn't even fully turn around. He just glanced over his shoulder, one brow slightly raised.
"Again?"
You looked up at him, almost startled. "Huhh? I—no, I didn't mean—”
And then, because you were so committed to the role, you tripped a few steps after.
Leon let out a heavy exhale through his nose.
Yeah. Definitely not a threat.
He truly believed you would lose a fight with a revolving door.
And yet? You kept showing up.
Always near him. Always in his periphery. Always just out of reach that would've been creepy if it didn't come with the consistent energy of an anxious mouse.
He'd seen real surveillance before. Professionals who were practically invisible, disciplined.
You were none of those.
And that’s why he didn’t take it seriously.
At most, he figured you were some overeager civilian who thought tailing a federal agent was a hobby. Or worse—one of those kids who got too fascinated with the idea of “spy work” and didn’t understand how fast it could go wrong.
So instead of confronting you properly, he started.. adjusting.
Slower turns into corners just to see if you’d keep up.
You did.
Stopping suddenly just to see your reaction.
You nearly walked into a door that time and stood there like you were personally offended by your own mistake.
Had had to bite back a smile.
“You okay back there?” he called out without fully stopping.
“Yeah—yeah, I’m fine!”
Still, he never let his guard down completely.
Old habits die hard.
Plus, you were moving like someone trying very hard to look inconspicuous while doing the exact opposite.
So when you showed up across the street from his temporary meet-up, pretending to read a map you weren’t actually looking at, he didn’t react beyond a small sigh.
“Still here,” he muttered.
He took a sip of water, watching you struggle with your own reflection in the window like it was an enemy you couldn’t quite track.
“Either this guy’s the worst tail I’ve ever had,” he thought, “or he’s not even trying.”
༶•┈┈୨୧┈┈•༶
Leon didn’t usually just show up at people’s places.
That was the kind of thing rookies did, or people who didn’t know better.
But you weren’t exactly "people who didn’t know better,” at least not in the way he originally assumed. And after a few more days of your consistent, somehow-improving stalking, something about it started to itch at the back of his mind.
So he came anyway.
Your place wasn’t much. Small, organized in a way that looked normal at first glance. The kind of space that tried a little too hard to seem forgettable.
Leon stepped inside without announcing himself.
“Hello?”
No answer.
That made him pause for a moment. Because you were always around. Always present in the most inconvenient way possible. If you weren't here, it meant one of two things; you were out, or you were hiding.
He moved further in.
The room you called your “safe space” was exactly what he expected. Nothing suspicious—just a desk, a chair, a few scattered books.
Then he saw the folder.
It wasn’t even hidden well. Just sitting slightly off-center like it’d been moved recently and not returned.
Leon opened it.
And stopped immediately after.
Photos.
Not random ones.
Him.
Different angles, different days, different distances. Walking. Standing. Talking. Sitting alone. Standing with others.
Even moments he didn’t remember being visible to anyone.
His eyes narrowed slightly. “...Okay,” he muttered.
He kept going.
There were notes too. Pages and pages of them.
Sleep cycles. Route changes. Reaction delays. Micro-expressions. Behavioral inconsistencies across environments. Even predictions.
Actual predictions.
A few pages were labeled in bold:
“Stress response triggers (confirmed vs inferred)”
This was analysis. Structured and uncomfortably accurate.
He flipped to another section.
“Risk tolerance baseline: artificially elevated due to exposure history (military/field conditioning likely?). Possible trauma normalization. High functional dissociation under stress.”
He stared at that one a little longer than the others. “You’ve gotta be kidding me,” he sighed quietly.
The next folder wasn’t even about his work patterns.
Just him.
Preferences. Habits. Even things he hadn’t consciously noticed about himself.
Self-perception gap analysis.
“He believes he’s more unpredictable than he actually is. In reality, his behavior is extremely consistent under close observation. He confuses adaptability with randomness.”
He wasn’t scared. But this wasn’t a funny gag anymore.
He looked around the room again, finally noticing details he hadn’t before. The way the desk was angled toward the door. The placement of objects within reach of the chair.
This entire room was mapped.
Like someone—you—had been simulating outcomes here.
His jaw tightened.
“You’ve been busy,” he said to the empty room.
And for the first time since you started trailing him, Leon didn’t think of you as harmless. Just miscategorized.
Because clumsy didn’t compile this, nor did it predict behavior with his level of accuracy.
༶•┈┈୨୧┈┈•༶
Leon didn’t like being wrong.
And right now, he was pretty sure he had been wrong for a while.
Not about the fact that you were watching him, that part was obvious. What he’d been wrong about was the sheer scale of it.
So instead of confronting you immediately, he fed the pattern.
He “forgot” a file on purpose in a place he knew you could access. Nothing classified, nothing dangerous to know—just enough to see if it would move through your little system of notes.
It did.
Within two days, he found your writing about it tucked into one of your folders like it had always been there.
“Of course,” he muttered.
Then he escalated a bit.
He changed his routine. Took longer routes. Stopping in places with reflective glass. Letting conversations linger where they could be overheard.
And every time, like clockwork, you were there.
Still playing clumsy. Still pretending not to notice anything.
But watching everything.
He didn’t expect you to be so thorough.
You were updating your notes in real time. Refining conclusions. Adjusting probabilities like you were building a version of him in your head that was getting uncomfortably accurate.
Leon flipped through one of the copies he managed to intercept again later.
“You’re overthinking this,” he said to himself.
But he wasn’t exactly sure if that was true anymore.
He shifted tactics.
If you needed data, he’d give you data.
He started being unnecessarily visible.
Standing in his doorway with the light behind him long enough for anyone watching across the street to see a clear silhouette before he closed the blinds.
Leaving his routine coffee consistent for days so it became predictable again, then changing it suddenly for no reason just to see if you reacted.
He could tell you did.
The next time he passed your usual “accidental” meeting spot, your timing was off by half a second.
Then there were the personal spaces.
He didn’t like the idea of thinking about you analyzing him in those moments, but he couldn’t deny what you’d already collected.
He’d walk out of the shower still drying his hair when he knew the blinds weren’t fully shut.
He’d pause in the middle of a routine call just to see if he could feel your attention on him through whatever mental grid you were running.
And every time, he caught something in your pattern shifting.
He exhaled slowly one night, leaning back in his chair after another day of deliberately unguarded behavior. “You’re not clumsy,” he finally admitted quietly to the empty room.
“…You’re just bad at pretending you are.”
Because now it was clear.
You weren’t reacting to him anymore—you were studying his reaction to you studying him.
And Leon, for the first time, wasn’t sure who had started watching who.
༶•┈┈୨୧┈┈•༶
The mission itself wasn’t the kind that left room for distractions. Low visibility. Tight corridors. Too many places for things to go wrong. Which is why it almost felt ironic that Leon picked that moment to finally stop pretending he didn’t notice you.
You were there, of course.
Not officially.
Not on any roster.
Just “somehow” in the periphery again, doing your usual routine—wrong-footed timing, slightly too close to the edges of safe cover, acting like you were just trying to keep up with everything happening around you.
But now Leon knew better.
He just hadn’t said it out loud yet.
You rounded a corner a second too late, nearly bumping into him in the dim hallway between two secured doors. You froze immediately like you always did when caught mid-act. “Sorry,” you started automatically.
Leon held up a hand. “Don’t.”
That made you stop.
“…What?”
He stepped close.
“You always do that,” he said mildly.
You blinked. “Do what?”
“Dumb,” he replied, like it was obvious.
There was a pause.
Then you tried to smile. “I don’t know what you mean.”
Leon actually huffed a short laugh at that. Not mean. Just… amused.
“Yeah,” he said, nodding slightly. “That’s kind of the problem.”
He tilted his head a little, watching you. Up close, you still looked the same as before—wide eyes, that same “harmless inconvenience” energy he used to file you under without thinking twice. Except now he could see the gaps.
“You’ve been following me for what,” Leon continued casually, like they were discussing weather, “weeks?”
Your expression flickered for half a second. “No, I just.. run into you a lot.”
“On purpose, hm?”
That made your shoulders go a fraction tighter—like you were deciding whether to keep the mask or switch it out.
He leaned slightly against the wall, rifle still secure, like this was just a conversation in a hallway instead of a breach of every normal boundary between them.
“You know,” he added, voice lighter now, almost teasing, “if you wanted attention, you could just ask.”
You did a quick glance away without denying. “You think I want attention?”
Leon shrugged. “You tell me.”
“I— I don’t!”
“Hey, now, I’m not exactly accusing you. Just curious.”
A pause before he added: “And a little impressed. You’re not as bad at this as I thought.”
He pushed off the wall slightly, stepping closer.
“Here’s what I don’t get,” he said, voice still easy. “You’ve got skills. You’ve got access to things you shouldn’t. And yet you chose… this.” He gestured vaguely at your entire persona.
You didn’t answer immediately. Which told him more than any denial would’ve. He gave a small, almost amused breath. “I’ll be honest,” Leon added, glancing past you toward the corridor like they weren’t in the middle of something complicated at all, “I thought you were just some awkward kid trying too hard. But you’re not.”
That silence between you changed shape after that. Less playful and a bit more aware.
He didn’t raise his weapon. Didn’t escalate it.
Just watched you like someone finally reading the correct version of something they’d been mislabeling the entire time.
“Still,” he said after a moment, tone easing back into something lighter, “you’ve gotta work on your acting. The whole ‘clumsy’ thing? Not as convincing as you think.”
A faint pause. Then, almost like he couldn’t help himself:
“It’s kind of cute, though.”
You stared at him for a second.
“…Cute?” you repeated slowly, like the word itself sounded wrong coming out of his mouth.
Leon’s mouth twitched slightly, immediately noticing the disbelief on your face.
“Yeah,” he said. “Cute.”
“What part of any of this is cute?”
Leon looked at you for a long second before snorting under his breath. “Everything now that I think about it.”
You frowned harder now, almost disturbed by the fact he seemed sincere about this.
Because in your head, the act had only ever served one purpose: lower perceived threat level. Make yourself forgettable. Make him underestimate you.
Which had worked.
Too well, apparently.
But cute?
That wasn’t part of this at all.
“You seriously thought that was cute?” you asked again, like you needed confirmation for psychological reasons.
Leon shrugged one shoulder.
“I thought it was funny at first,” he admitted.
You looked horrified.
“There it is again,” he said, amused.
“You were supposed to think I was incompetent.”
“I did.”
“That’s not—”
“You can be competent and still look cute doing something dumb.”
“You don’t understand,” you muttered, almost to yourself now. “The whole point was that you wouldn’t take me seriously.”
“I don’t.”
“That’s bad!”
“For you or me?”
You opened your mouth.
Then closed it immediately.
Leon tilted his head slightly. “You really thought I saw you as stupid?” he asked.
“…Didn’t you?”
“Nah.” He paused.
You looked dead at him.
“I hate you.”
“You wouldn’t stalk me if you did.”
You rubbed a hand over your face, suddenly feeling the weight of every fake stumble you’d committed to over the past several weeks.
The sign.
The revolving door.
The trash can.
Everything you’ve done.
Dear god.
“You know what’s messed up?” you said finally.
“Hm?”
“I spent all that effort building a believable persona and you reduced it to ‘cute!’”
Leon grinned a little at that. “Not entirely,” he said. “You’re scary too.”
That made you pause.
“Wait… really?” You asked as if it meant everything to you.
The amusement was still there, but quieter now. Underneath it sat something more like respect, maybe. Caution.
“You built a whole psychological profile on me,” he said. “You predicted behavioral patterns I didn’t even notice myself doing.”
“…It was effective, no?”
“Yeah.” Leon laughed again, softer this time, shaking his head slightly before stepping back toward the corridor.
“C’mon,” he said. “Mission first, identity crisis later.”
You were still standing there mildly shell-shocked while he walked ahead like he hadn’t just completely ruined your perception of your own undercover abilities.
And somehow the worst part was realizing he probably meant every word.
Literally anything with Leon and a twink reader. Whatever you're feeling in the moment and want to write, im a simple man and starved for twink reader stuff.
In the hour you’ve been at this party, you’ve been ignored, shoved, and had a drink spilled down your jacket — so now your shoulder smells like passionfruit vodka.
This isn’t your scene, and you’re not going to pretend otherwise.
Normally, you’d be home, keeping yourself busy with anything that isn’t this. But you were dragged here against your will.
Your boyfriend, Zeno, pushes through the crowd and finally spots you.
“Hey — there you are! I’ve been looking all over!”
He hasn’t.
You know that because you’ve watched him walk right past you more than once without a second glance.
Still, you smile as he approaches.
Zeno pulls you into his side — warm, unsteady — and you dodge the liquid sloshing dangerously close to the rim of his cup.
“C’mon, we’re playing a game.”
He’s already dragging you toward another room — one closed off from the main party. So that’s where he’s been.
“I don’t know, Z… I’m getting kind of tired,” you try, hoping to slip away.
His grip tightens.
“What? No. One game won’t kill you.”
You silently hope it might.
You’re guided to a different area.
The room is quieter, sealed off behind sliding doors. A group sits in a loose circle.
A broken bottle rests in the center.
…Of course.
“The king has arrived!” someone calls out — Daniela, you think.
Cheers follow as Zeno drops into a beanbag and pulls you down beside him.
“Finally! Thought you ditched us,” another voice adds — Bela, maybe. “Where’s the new bottle?”
Zeno groans dramatically. “Shit, forgot to grab one. Got distracted.”
His fingers dig into your sides — you swat him away.
A man — Albert — adjusts his glasses with a sigh. “You’re useless.”
The doors slide open again.
You glance back—
—and meet a pair of steady blue eyes.
“Good thing Leon’s here.”
The voice fades into the background.
Because Leon S. Kennedy is looking directly at you.
Not casually.
Like he didn’t expect to see you here.
Like now that he has, he can’t quite look away.
He blinks, shifts, and lifts an empty bottle.
The group cheers and the game resumes.
It doesn’t take long to figure out the game.
Spin the bottle — with rules.
If you’ve hooked up before, you kiss.
If you haven’t… closet. Seven minutes.
You hate it.
Even more when Zeno participates like it’s nothing — kissing others like you’re not even there.
You lean closer to him.
“I should go. I’ve got an early morning.”
“What? No — you haven’t even gone yet. And how are you getting home? I drove.”
You clench your jaw.
Anything would be better than this.
You argue quietly — until someone cuts in.
“No side conversations. It’s your turn.”
The room shifts.
All eyes are on you.
“Sorry,” Zeno cuts in, grinning. “My boyfriend’s a buzzkill — he wants to leave.”
Boos erupt.
You try to brush it off — but it gets under your skin.
Zeno sees it.
Hooks you back in.
Before you can react, his drink is at your lips.
“This’ll help.”
You cough as the alcohol burns down your throat, spilling down your chin and onto your jacket.
“Zeno—”
“It’s just a jacket. Wear mine.”
You barely recover before—
“How about I spin for you?”
Too late.
The bottle spins.
Slows.
Stops.
You follow its direction.
Past Zeno.
To—
Leon.
He’s already looking at you.
Like he never stopped.
The room fades again.
For a moment, it feels like the only thing that exists is that steady, unwavering gaze.
“Well?” someone asks. “You two ever—?”
You don’t answer.
Leon does with action.
He pushes off the wall and walks to the closet without hesitation.
Confident.
Certain.
The room erupts.
You’re pushed to your feet and follow behind with half steps.
Behind you—
“Remember,” Zeno calls, “you’re mine.”
The room erupts in ‘oo’s.
You don’t turn back.
“Seven minutes boys.”
The door shuts.
Silence drops hard.
The music, the shouting — gone.
All that’s left is the small space, the faint smell of alcohol — and him.
Leon stands just a step too close.
One hand lifts near your head, catching a hanger before it can brush you. The movement is automatic — careful in a way you didn’t expect from him.
You swallow.
“Sorry,” you say quickly. “I didn’t really want to play. Zeno just insists… on everything.”
A dry laugh slips out. Leon doesn’t laugh.
He watches you.
You open your mouth to break the awkward tension again.
“Why do you stay with him?”
The words cut straight through you.
No hesitation. No softening.
You blink. “What?”
Leon doesn’t move away. If anything, he shifts closer — just enough that you feel it.
“He treats you like shit,” he says, voice low, controlled. “So why stay?”
Your chest tightens. You don’t know why you answer but you do.
“I care about him,” you answer, quieter now. “He’s been there for me. I can’t just— walk away from that.”
Leon watches you like he’s weighing every word.
“Even after everything?”
A hesitation. You don’t answer.
Because you don’t have one.
A beat passes.
“Ever think about getting even?”
You frown. “What does that mean?”
“It means,” Leon says, stepping closer, “maybe you stop being the one who puts up with everything.”
You can see his line of reason.
You frown. “I’m not cheating on him.”
“But he can do it to you?” Leon presses.
That hits deeper than you want it to.
Your jaw tightens.
Leon sees it.
Steps closer.
Now your back is brushing the wall.
“You don’t have to be like him,” he says, quieter now — but somehow heavier. “But you don’t have to be the one getting walked over either.”
You try to laugh it off — but it comes out weak.
“And who’s going to want to get involved with someone like—”
Leon moves.
Fast enough to steal the rest of your sentence.
His arm braces beside your head, closing you in. The other hand settles at your side — firm, grounding, impossible to ignore.
Your hands come up instinctively, pressing against his chest.
Solid.
Warm.
Too close.
“…me?” you finish, barely above a breath.
Leon’s eyes drop — just for a second.
To your mouth.
Then back up.
“I would.”
The words aren’t rushed.
Aren’t careless.
They land heavy.
Certain.
His grip loosens just slightly — not letting go, but giving you space to choose.
To stop this.
Or not.
You should.
You know you should.
But the part of you that’s been ignored all night — dismissed, embarrassed, overlooked—
Wins.
Your fingers tighten in his shirt.
You pull him in.
The kiss hits harder than you expect.
Immediate.
Heat rushing up your spine as Leon exhales against you, like something in him snaps loose the second you close the distance.
His hand at your side tightens — pulling you in until there’s no space left between you.
None.
Your back presses fully against the wall now.
His body follows.
Close enough that you can feel every shift in his breathing.
Every controlled movement that’s starting to slip.
Leon kisses like he’s fighting — focused, deliberate — but there’s an edge to it now. Something rougher breaking through the control.
Like he’s holding back and losing the fight.
Your grip on him tightens, pulling him closer even though there’s nowhere left to go.
His other hand comes up, sliding behind your neck — steadying you, keeping you right where he wants you.
Your breath catches when his mouth shifts — slower for a second, then deeper, like he’s testing how far he can push this.
How far you’ll let him.
He gets low to your shoulder — knowing better than to leave evidence on the neck — and sucks.
A quiet sound escapes you before you can stop it.
That’s all it takes.
Leon’s restraint cracks just a little more.
His hand at your side presses firmer, fingers flexing like he’s grounding himself through you. His forehead raises briefly against yours — just a second—
like he’s catching his breath.
Or losing it.
“You have no idea…” he murmurs, voice rougher now, closer than it should be, “how long I’ve wanted to do that.”
The admission hangs there.
Heavy.
Real.
And then he’s back on you again — like he regrets giving you even that second of space.
Time blurs.
Everything narrows to heat, pressure, the way he reacts to you like this isn’t new — but something he’s been holding back for a while.
Something he finally gave in to.
You don’t have much time.
Leon pulls back suddenly — but not far.
Just enough.
His hand lingers a second longer than it should before dropping.
He looks over your confused expression before reminding you of the time.
You straighten quickly, trying to steady your breathing, your thoughts — anything.
“Best time of my life.” Leon smirks.
The door opens.
It’s abrupt.
Too fast.
The moment snaps.
Zeno stands there.
Watching. As if he was expecting something.
Leon steps past him like nothing happened.
Calm. Composed. Untouched.
You follow a second later.
Back in the room, Zeno pulls you into his side again.
Familiar. Easy.
Wrong.
“What’d you do? Talk?” he asks, smug.
Leon leans against the wall again, thumb brushing absently over his lower lip.
This is pure porn no plot at all, explicitly male reader, mirror sex, that trope where one is clothed and the other is naked, he calls you good boy :), Nanami loves his husband, probably inaccurate depiction of anal idk have fun y'all, he's the top (this time)
words: 1k
a/n: any and all reblogs and comments would be so appreciated guys! I hope you're liking what I put out and that's the best feedback I can get
I need you to come over.
That was the text Nanami Kento had received five minutes ago from his husband. His heart had immediately started pounding because what if you were hurt? What if you had injured yourself somewhere, maybe on that sharp knife in the kitchen you weren't supposed to use? Did you fall and couldn't get up? Did you-
"It's stuck," were the words that came from the bathroom when he rushed inside your shared apartment. What was it that was stuck exactly?
He dropped his briefcase by the door and slipped off his shoes, then rushed into the bathroom to see you bent awkwardly over the sink, no pants on, a vibrator stuck between your legs. He paused. His expression went through all the stages of grief before he settled on acceptance and then chose to interpret this as the universe's way of telling him he deserved a break because work had been driving him insane all week, and this - this would be his reward now.
"How did you manage this?" he asked while stepping behind you, his steady hands carefully coming to rest on your hips. He took a deep breath, removing your hands from where you'd clearly been attempting to pull the toy out. "Truly, I rush out of my office and abandon a case... all to find you bent over like this. Did you plan this? Is this another prank of yours, my love?" he murmured, but instead of his usual exasperation, his voice was soft and low, pulling at your senses while his fingertips traced featherlight patterns over your heated skin, parting your cheeks to press against your hole.
"It's not a joke, it's genuinely stuck," you protested, but a shudder runs through you and suddenly, the emergency didn't feel quite as urgent anymore.
"Is it stuck? I seem rather capable of pulling it out," he chuckled, and you felt him press his hips forward. One of his hands found its way to the back of your head, pressing down to keep you bent over while his other hand played with the toy that was now not-so-stuck inside you. You whined softly, whatever argument you had ready dissolving in your head as you focused on the way Kento was touching you. His fingers slowly, agonizingly slowly, slipped in beside the vibrator, prodding at your flesh and curling inside.
"Honey, please..." you groaned, trying to look up at him, but he kept your head down, cheek pressed against the cold porcelain of the sink, gaze just barely landing on the bottom of the mirror where you could see how your husband was looking down at you. You see the curve of his jaw, the heat in his eyes. He barely blinks, taking in the sight of you beneath him with an equal mixture of reverence and deep, profound satisfaction.
"Quiet, my love," he murmured, and for a moment, the fingers that were tangled in your hair soften their grip to caress your scalp. He pressed the pad of his thumb just above your ear, applying gentle pressure while moving his finger in circles. The hand inside you followed the same pattern. Your back arched slightly as you pressed into his palm, the round curve of your cheek nestling against him. Another breathless chuckles reached your ears just before you felt the stimulation of his hand disappear, followed by the clink of his belt.
"I didn't want to admit this, but I've been thinking about you all day, darling," he said, his voice steady, tinged with the shape of his smile. You didn't bother glancing at the mirror, your body slumped against the sink. You would have been content to just let him fuck you into the porcelain if he wanted to, as long as he kept his hand in your hair and his hips pressed to yours, but the gentle pressure above your ear turned into an insistent tug as he slowly dragged you upward until your torso was hovering. He slid his now-free hand beneath you, forearm to your chest, and held you up, keeping his other hand in your hair, wrenching your head back to force you to watch yourself in the mirror.
Slowly, he slid inside you. The feeling was exquisite for both of you. You heard him breathe out, and in the mirror, watched his eyes flutter shut like a man who had finally come home after a long day.
He began to roll his hips forward slowly, keeping his pace gentle while he guided your body back up, your back to his chest while he angled his head down to press kisses down your bare shoulder. His shirt, previously spotless, was beginning to stick to his body with sweat. There you were, completely naked, while he'd barely pulled his trousers down low enough to get his cock out.
"Good boy, just let me make you feel good, dear," he whispered while pressing another kiss right below your ear. His hand came to cup your jaw, moving your head slightly back and to the side and continue his ministrations upon your skin. You felt him pulling you closer while thrusting his hips gently forward, just enough to stimulate you. He was determined to take his time, drawing out the pleasure, keeping you from a climax, suspended in utter bliss while held safely in his arms.
You moaned weakly when he finally began to pick up the pace. After so long, even the slightest increase in pressure felt like a supernova, lighting up your insides with a low, coiling ache as you began to squeeze around him. A low groan tore from his throat as you did, and his hips stuttered. His hold on you became tighter as he finally gave up all pretense of self-control. Instead of holding you, his hands were now braced - one against the sink, the other on your stomach, keeping you from moving too far away.
Finally, you felt yourself tipping over the imaginary line. Your cum dripped down the edge of the sink while Kento came inside you. He didn't pull out right away, instead choosing to watch the white trickle around his cock and down your thighs. He leaned forward with a sigh, his touch turning gentler once more.
"You're so beautiful, darling," he whispered, smiling, his forehead resting between your shoulder blades. "You should get stuck like this more often."
pairings: yandere!bruce wayne x male!reader (ft. platonic yandere!batkids)
summary: as the last preparations for his son's first gala appearance are being finalised, Bruce Wayne meets a handsome florist that challenges his perception of love and destroys the foundation of who Bruce truly is. One meeting leaves him wanting more and more. As Bruce spends more time with (name), he finds himself on the path of self-discovery and feeling darker than the filthiest alleyways in Gotham.
tags/warnings: dead dove: do not eat, age gap (bruce is in his late 30s/early 40s, reader before his 30th birthday), toxic relationships, power imbalance ( employer-employee relationship), potential smut, dubcon and noncon (though noncon is only mentioned, not actually written out), reader works with flowers and plants in general, obsessive behaviour, possessiveness, gore, murder, kidnapping, drugging, alcohol usage, forced parental figures (?), both bruce and reader are bisexual and bruce doesn't know how to deal with it
a/n: I was happily working on rewriting the chapter and was so caught of guard by the masturbation scene, wtf was I on 😭, still kept it in tho so watch out
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The next day, Bruce found it hard to stay in one place as he counted down the hours to the dinner. He kept walking from one window to the other, hoping to catch a glimpse of you and make sure you didn't leave early. If it were up to Bruce, he would be right next to you the entire workday but was worried that his constant hovering would make you nervous and force you to find a reason to not join the family for dinner. Besides, you promised not to do any hard work before the dinner.
"I'd hate to track dirt into the manor," you explained with a shy smile.
During your morning interaction, Bruce couldn't help but notice the way you couldn't meet his eyes or the way you kept wiping off your palms over your pants. He believed it was a sign that you were excited, when in reality you were seconds from passing out from nerves.
As the time inched closer to dinner, the harder it became for everyone involved to remain in one place. That included you, who spent the last hour walking around the gardens, occasionally having your fingers brush over the leaves of plants you decided to leave alone. You hoped that by looking busy, nobody could sniff out how nervous you are.
Alfred is the one to come and collect you. He takes you to one of the bathrooms on the ground floor and asks you to clean up before dinner.
"There are clothes on the counter; Master Bruce asked me to prepare those for you." Alfred gestured towards said clothes. "If they don't fit you or are not to your liking, please let me know."
You wash up quickly, worried about spending too much time in the bathroom and keeping the host waiting.
"You're out, finally!" Tim pushed himself off the wall, his left hand reaching towards the back pocket of his jeans. "Found your card and made sure to speed up your first cheque; they should be coming in weekly from now on."
"Thanks." You grabbed the card out of Tim's hand. "I was so worried I would have to cancel it."
"That should've been your first thought. Someone could get a hold of it, and you could lose a lot of money." Tim sighed, shaking his head.
You hummed in response, walking alongside Tim. The more of the manor's hallways the two of you passed, the more nerves bundled up in the pit of your stomach. The idea of sitting at this fancy dinner table with your rich employer and his raised-in-luxury kids wasn't something you wanted to experience.
"Not all of us could be present, only those who live in the manor full time." Tim spoke up, as if sensing your growing nerves. "The rest couldn't make it, but there will be another time."
Another time?
You wanted to ask what Tim meant by that, but you had made it to the dining room.
There he was, Bruce Wayne, sitting at the foot of the table. On his left sat Damian, Cass and Duke, while on his right there were empty seats with two plates next to them.
Tim grabbed you, dragging you towards the table. He took a seat across from Cassandra, while you were forced to sit right next to Bruce and across from Damian.
Throughout dinner, Bruce did everything to not make his staring too obvious. Not to you at least. But there still were moments when he just couldn't help himself and watched your face closely, especially when you spoke about plants and flowers.
By the time Alfred brought out dessert, Bruce was convinced that the meal was going well. To him, you looked somewhat relaxed, blind to the way you took time with each bite, worried that you would throw it up from the nerves.
Bruce's certainty that you had a good time only lasted an hour after the dinner ended, just at the beginning of his patrol. He noticed that you still had your lights on in your living room.
He landed quietly on the fire escape, taking a moment to watch as you spoke to someone on the phone. Bruce was sure you were discussing dinner with the person you were talking to, and the curiosity got the better of him. Bruce moved to the kitchen window, lifting it slightly. Just high enough to stick a small microphone through it.
"... you don't get it! You weren't there! I'm telling you he hates me, and I am so fired," your voice came through the earpiece. "I'm going to have to come back to (employer's name) and tell them that Bruce fucking Wayne fired me! My life is so over; I'm going to have to move away. Somewhere they don't know who Bruce Wayne is, preferably."
"Are you sure you're not just overthinking this?" your friend asked, and Bruce, who moved back to the living room window, saw them shake their head on the phone screen.
"You should've seen the way he kept looking at me! I feel like such an idiot! What if..." You froze, feeling someone's eyes on you. You looked over your shoulder and saw a black silhouette in your window.
Bruce, realising you were staring at him, swiftly jumped off the fire escape in hopes of making it look like he was taking a temporary pit stop.
You, on the other hand, ran right up to the window, trying to spot who was spying on you, only to see Batman's shadow running out of the alleyway.
You watch the alleyway for a moment, unsure what you just experienced. Only your friend's worried voice snapped you out of the trance.
"Oh, don't worry, just a Bat taking a quick stop." You let out a breathy laugh, picking up your phone again. " Scared me shitless, though."
Bruce returned to the manor that night like a man on a mission. He had to find a way to show you that he genuinely wants to get to know you and not look for a reason to fire you. It's not like Bruce needed a reason to do that anyway.
You didn't notice the microphone on your windowsill when you went to open it the next morning. And you didn't notice the way it rolled off the sill and your counter only to end up hidden between your trash can and counters.
Instead, you took out your phone to text Bruce about the change of plans, which, unbeknownst to you, became the perfect opportunity for him.
You: Good morning, Mr Wayne. I have realised that I'm lacking hydrangeas, so I won't be at the gardens today to buy them.
Bruce was midway through suggesting he tag along when a voice spoke up from right behind him.
"Hydrangeas? He better choose ones that are adequate," Damian scoffed. "Tell him I am going as well."
Bruce: Good morning, (name). Damian and I would like to tag along with you tomorrow. As long as it's alright with you.
You: Of course that's alright. The gardens belong to you after all.
Bruce: I and Damian will pick you up tomorrow around 10 then.
Bruce stuck to his promise, parking his sleek black car right outside your apartment building at ten am sharp. He made sure to choose one that didn't catch too much attention, worried about scaring you even further.
You were expecting to sit in the back, so you froze when Bruce reached over and opened the passenger door for you.
The outing to buy hydrangeas was the beginning of a confusing friendship between Bruce and you. At least on your side, it was confusing. You couldn't wrap your head around why Bruce would go out of his way to interact with you, his employee.
Every coffee shared together and every shared laugh over dirt-covered faces demolished the walls you carefully built up brick by brick.
All of a sudden, you no longer dreaded returning to the manor every morning. And while some things about the manor and its residents still freak you out a little, like the way Damian would stand in the distance, watching your every move, you did realise that it wasn't all that bad, not for Gotham's standards at least.
Bruce caught himself preferring to help around in the gardens rather than working, whether it was at Wayne Enterprises or the Batcave. More often than not, he would leave the company in Tim's hands and the cases to Oracle and Red Robin.
The feeling of comfort in the new-found friendship between you and Bruce quickly turned into something different. Something that came from the more primal instincts.
For Bruce, at least.
More often than not, he would think about the way your laugh would ring in his ears. Or the way he would catch you glance towards his lips as Bruce was talking.
Or the warmth of your hands on his when Bruce would hand the gardener something.
It all came crashing down as Bruce was standing under the showerhead, his forehead pressed onto the tiles, his hard cock twitching in his palm.
Bruce took a deep breath, his hand working up and down his shaft. He kept his mind blank, trying to work his way up to release as quickly as possible.
He wasn't sure when the blank space in his mind turned into a faceless figure underneath him, taking his cock into its mouth.
"F-fuck," Bruce murmured, picking up the pace as the figure's tongue ran from the base of his cock up to the reddened tip.
The figure's faceless form morphed into you, your whimpers of Bruce's name filling up his ears. His hand tightens around his shaft, another swear escaping his lips.
You, in his mind, got up from your knees, your lips wrapped around his cock now replaced by your palm. Your hard cock rested on Bruce's thigh when you forced your leg in between Bruce's.
Your lips kissed up Bruce's neck, leaving small kisses up to his jaw.
Bruce's movements got frantic, his palm moving up and down his shaft, eager to release. You giggled into his neck as a moan escaped his lips.
His cum splashed against the tiles, the water from the showerhead washing it away. Bruce stood still, his head pressed against the wall, his hand still gripping his softening cock tightly.
Bruce's brows furrowed, his eyes opening. He pushed himself away from the wall, the urge to leave the shower brushing over him.
He felt embarrassed. Confused.
It might not have been the first time for him to imagine someone while masturbating.
But those people were always women. Never men.
And definitely not those that considered him a friend.
