liliablooms
ʚ hopeless romances sprinkled with despair ɞ
38 posts
Latest Posts by liliablooms
we are all girls who are going to be okay
ethel cain is for when you know your bad asf but like still wanna die
𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓
𝐣𝐚𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐨𝐝𝐝 ⋆ ˚｡⋆ʚ𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘰𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳 . 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘰𝘯𝘦 . coming soon
Jason Todd and rockstar!reader
warnings: allusion to substance abuse and suicide ideologies.
From the moment he met you, Jason knew you were too good for him; you were too talented, too sweet, too perfect. Still, he couldn't stay away.
You used to work at a music store on the quieter side of Gotham and the two of you would occasionally cross paths but never shared more than a few words. Even then, before he really knew you, he'd thought you were wonderful, but assumed you were more likely go for someone like Dick: charming, stable, easy to love.
When you began your rise to fame, quitting your poorly-paying job and moving into a nicer apartment, he felt a pang of sadness. The city, especially those in it's poorer areas, were happy to see one of their own making it out. But Jason just missed seeing you around.
The first time he saw you since you'd upgraded your lifestyle was at one of Bruce's galas. He didn't know whether he should even go up to you, knowing you were to be swarmed throughout the night and unsure if he knew you enough to feel confident striking up a conversation.
It was you, however, that took a seat next to him at the open bar and mentioned that you remembered him from your old side of town. It was you that made sure the two of you exchanged numbers before the night had ended. It was you that invited him to the studio one night, and then for drinks, and then back to your apartment. It was you that felt like no good. But you were too drawn to him to stay away.
So Jason stuck around. It was often easy, seeing as he quickly fell in love with you. It got harder at times. Like when you couldn't bare the millions of eyes constantly on you and felt like one more pair, his, would just kill you. Or when neither of you could talk about your pains. When he would find you on your bathroom floor, clutching a bottle of prescription pain killers and next to a shattered mirror, you would tell him to leave. Not just for that night, but forever. He never would. You never understood why.
Jason couldn't quite grasp why you, someone that could have anyone in the world, probably, would choose him of all people. Especially when it seemed to physically hurt for him to give or receive an "I love you". He didn't understand why you were so eager to touch him when it would make him shiver and shrink away, at least at first. He couldn't feel the smoothness of his own skin like you did. All he could notice were the pink scars across his chest and back.
But he was a fighter, and maybe less obviously, so were you. So you would keep loving each other, if only you could help it.
i think i wanna make this into a fic so lmk if you're interested...
and do we like the idea of them being reader’s manager 🫢???
i really really really wanna write for famous(?)musician!reader and finally put out a oneshot but i can’t decide who to write for. help me out pls
i really really really wanna write for famous(?)musician!reader and finally put out a oneshot but i can’t decide who to write for. help me out pls
is this lowk giving leon or do i need to go to sleep
liking it so far…
get excited!!
What people expect when I say I’m a writer: writing a whole novel
What I actually do: get into a fandom or come up with an original idea, go to sleep every night thinking of the story, make imaginary scenarios and Pinterest boards, make Spotify playlists, and finally sit down to write it out 2 months later only to get another idea and abandon the story. Repeat the cycle.
for a gen tlou fic…
are we hoping for it to be w/ reader but no use of y/n or an oc? either way they will have the same backstory, but if i can choose more specifics and the name of the mc, i can incorporate nicknames and yada yada yada. lmk
thinking about writing about someone born right before the outbreak and them eventually crossing paths with ellie and joel and/or jackson. like a self insert kinda thing but not necessarily a romance? i have some really cool ideas…
this impacted me a lot as a writer and a reader!!!
Fun Story to Share.
I got my (now 18-year-old) daughter into Ao3 back in 2021. I taught her she should always comment - even if the fic looks old or abandoned or whatever. She did.
Well - she got this email this morning:
The fic was written in 2014 and essentially abandoned.
Bethy read and reviewed in 2021 (and was actually the only person who had commented at all).
Today in 2025 - the final chapter was posted by the author and this was her reply to Bethy’s comment.
———
Never question whether a fic is too old to comment on.
Was scrolling through AO3 and found this gem
Enemy to parent is a trope we have to popularise lmao
in regards to this…
the fic would rely heavily on the events of re2 but would also take place long after and would focus on the reader and leon’s relationship following the events i am planning on adding…
my question is that since i am already writing 1 (maybe 2?) fics that follow the events of re2, would it get redundant to include these scenes in this newer fic? i thought of incorporating these scenes through flashbacks to keep the pacing up and have the story stand out from the formula of my others. but i would love to hear what ppl would prefer :) lmk!!
i just had an earth-shatteringly devastating idea for a Leon fic… are we feeling like we want a good cry orrrr..?
i just had an earth-shatteringly devastating idea for a Leon fic… are we feeling like we want a good cry orrrr..?
please make being in a fandom fun again!!!!
in 2025 let’s bring back being enthusiastic on ao3. leave a comment on every chapter. leave kudos and, if necessary, leave “double kudos” in the comments. tags and notes on bookmarks. the whole nine yards. let’s show fanfic authors how much we love them.
but i love it too…
god damn.
Sugar on the Rim vol. II
bruce wayne x afab!reader
aka the billionaires new friend
part one
warnings: heavily implied that reader is a virgin, age gap (bruce is older than reader), smut, oral fem!receiving, nervous but enthusiastically consenting reader
You’d tried to calm your nerves but they couldn’t be helped.
You’re anxious about everything, all of it. What he wants you to do, what he’s expecting you do, whether it’ll hurt, whether you’re ready.
You think you trust Bruce, but you also know that these things are different for men and women. You don’t necessarily expect that he’ll have a mind for what you’ll need, but honestly, neither do you. You don’t know what to do to make this easier for yourself—you don’t know what to do at all.
You bought the lingerie, you’ve got it on under your clothes and it feels like a costume. You can’t tell if that aids or worsens the anxiety.
You’re fidgeting with the hem of your skirt and you wish you could quit it, you’re radiating enough nervous energy as it is, you don’t need to be sending him visual cues on top of it.
Bruce holds your free hand in his as he guides you through the manor, you think it’s a different section than you’ve seen before. His hand engulfs yours unfairly as he leads, but the touch of his skin is so warm and inviting that you can’t tell if your hand is still shaking under it. If it is, he pretends not to notice.
He guides you up the stairs and into a corridor and then another before you arrive at a set of double doors. You’ve never seen double doors on the inside of a house before.
He lets you in ahead of him, and you have a distinct thought that you’re glad he can’t see the look of awe on your face as you walk in. His bedroom has an entire living room inside of it, and altogether it’s bigger than your whole apartment. A maroon couch and matching chairs surround a grand fireplace at the front of the room and the resulting glow from the active embers has the area shrouded in a warm light ahead of the shadows filling the rest.
You glance past the seating at his bed; large and proud. It’s definitely bigger than a king sized, with an overhead canopy and streams of dark burgundy curtains draping down from the corners. There’s another set of closed double doors past the bed, you imagine leading to the bathroom.
The end of the room displays a large window seat that looks like it’s never been used, and vast tinted windows. You look up to find the ceiling higher than you’ve ever seen in a bedroom with a very expensive chandelier hanging over it all.
He takes your arm, steering you out of your wonderment and leads you towards the couch rather than the bed, gesturing for you to sit down with him. You do, quietly glad when he positions himself so that you’re close to each other but not pressed right up against you. He’s able to relax his body more than you’re able to fake it on yourself, and you think your thoughts must be vibrating out of you by now.
One hand comes to rest on your thigh as his other nudges your cheek towards him. “Hey, nothing’s happening right now. No need to be nervous.”
You nod blankly, but your thoughts are running wild with everything that you very much are nervous about.
He takes your hand in his, rubbing circles with his thumb.
“You’ve got to relax,” he coos, “Remember what I said?”
You take a breath, “You’re not going to throw me in the deep end.”
“Exactly,” he murmurs, kissing your forehead. “Just wanna make you feel good, right?”
You nod, easing your posture.
He looks you in the eye, “You gonna let me?”
You hum, nodding again.
“Good girl,” he purrs, pulling away.
You quickly find that the distance is not at all what you want, and you decide to push forward—as forward as you can—sitting up again to peel your jacket off. He watches you move with a look in his eyes, you take it for intrigue but it may just as well be something akin to pride. Pride in you? He’s openly flirted, kissed you, and straight up propositioned you for sex—but sure, he’s proud of you for taking your jacket off.
Your nerves transition into insecurity before you can catch them, and you’re starting to feel a little stupid, like a child playing pretend.
You watch tentatively as he tilts his head at you, running his own assessments of your actions.
“Will you come sit on my lap?” he asks you after a moment.
You suddenly become acutely aware of the amount of air in your lungs. This feels like a big request and you’re not even sure how to take his meaning. Does he want you to sit sideways? Your back to his front? Or fully straddle him?
He wants whatever you want, he’d said. What do you want?
You glance down at his thighs, covered by fabric more expensive than you can imagine. Positive confirmation rings through your head immediately, willing you to push yourself forward a little more.
You reposition yourself over him, straddling his lap in spite of your nerves.
Again, he looks pleased. Happy even. One of his hands comes to stroke soothing patterns across your lower back, the other resting on your waist.
He makes sure to catch your gaze, “You’ll tell me if you want to stop.”
He follows when your eyes stray, “Yes?”
“Yes.”
He places a tender kiss on your cheekbone, “How did shopping go?”
“Um, good. It was good. One of the sales girls helped me,” your breath is shaky as he kisses your jawline.
“Yeah? Tell me about it.”
“I, uh, I just went to this little boutique up on third street,” he places another kiss on the column of your throat as you talk. “Um, it took longer than I thought it would. There were so many choices.”
His hands come up to soothe over your ribs, pulling you a little closer as they do. He hums for you to keep talking, his kisses continuing to lower until they’re down to your collarbone, though they remain relatively chaste.
“I—I didn’t really know what to look for,” you admit, breath shaky as you exhale.
“But you like it?”
“Yeah, I—I do.”
He hums, smiling against your skin. His fingers inch under the seam of your shirt, caressing your waist. “Can I take this off?”
You nod timidly, trying not to seem so on edge with anticipation. You’re not confident that he can’t see right through you.
He presses another chaste kiss to your neck upon receival of the permission, and your shirt begins to come off slowly, his hands skimming every new bit of skin revealed. As he pulls it over your head, he glances down at the baby pink bralette you’d picked out for yourself.
He groans quietly as he takes in the sight, “Oh, pretty girl. Beautiful girl,” He noses at your chest, leaving little kisses where his lips make contact with your skin, “Look at you. Prettiest thing I’ve ever seen.”
Your stomach flutters as his hair tickles your cheek. His hands roam up your sides, stopping to stroke placid circles along the sides of your breasts.
His touch makes its way around your back, expertly undoing your bra clasp without a second thought. Your bra hangs forward a bit off your shoulders, but he leaves the work of entirely removing it to you. And you do, with more confidence than you’d imagined yourself mustering.
He immediately shows his appreciation, kissing and caressing your chest with lover-like admiration. Your head falls back involuntarily as he noses at your soft skin.
He’s breathing heavy when he pulls back, humming low and deep before lifting you up off his lap to stand. The sudden shift has you a bit thrown off, working to catch up as he kneels down in front of you and repeats his earlier process with your skirt—kissing your thighs and tugging the fabric down bit by bit.
When it’s discarded on the floor you stand only left in your underwear, the lace practically illuminated against your skin.
He looks up at you from his place on the floor and smiles as he takes in the sight of your body. His hands find your hips as he asks you, “Has anyone ever seen you like this before?”
You hesitate for half a second before answering truthfully.
His smile grows, “No, you’re a good girl, aren’t you?”
He doesn’t wait for an answer before he’s nodding, “Yeah, I know.”
As he rises to stand he scoops you up by the back of your thighs and lifts you in the air with no discernable effort. Now at face level with him, you get a bit bolder and lean in to kiss him. He kisses you back, pleased, beginning to walk the two of you over towards the bed.
He sets you down gently atop the soft mattress, kisses pushing you backwards to lie back on the bed. He scoops your wrists up and leisurely moves your arms up above your head. His grip is benign as he releases one hand in favor of holding your jaw. Your kiss is deep and controlled on his part, but in a way that makes you feel light in the head. You like the cloudy-sensation very much.
After a while, he pulls back to look at you with clouded eyes.
He practically purrs, “You’re such a kind girl. So sweet to everyone, all the time. Will you let me be sweet to you?”
Your breath is shaky as you nod, attempts at hiding your anticipation failing.
He nods back at you with a faux-sympathy across his face. “Let me hear you say it.”
You force air into your lungs, giving you the willpower to speak the words. “Will you touch me? Please?”
The corners of his lips turn up, “Of course, sweet girl.”
He nips at your jaw as his hands travel down, petting the inside of your thighs with a touch so feather light it almost tickles.
Your knee jerks inward towards his hand, your body desperately seeking out more of this new sensation. He obliges, tracing his touch back up, up, up until his hand dips under the lace trim of your panties, skimming over your clit. Your hips flinch back away from him momentarily in surprise, only to press back forward a second later.
He actually laughs at the action, like it’s endearing. You feel a little silly for it, but you’re not given much time to dwell as he persists, brushing against you with a bit more pressure.
He tilts his head, watching your expression carefully with a remarkably pleased look on his own face. “How’s that, sweet girl?”
You nod, beside yourself. “Feels good,” you whimper. “Feels really good..”
You don’t necessarily mean to, but your hips grind up against his touch, your body too mesmerized with the sensation to remember to be embarrassed.
He’s certainly not complaining about it though, his quiet coos encouraging you to chase the feeling.
He lets you grind up against his hand, taking in the needy look on your face with contentment.
“Poor girl,” he tuts. “Just need somebody to take care of you, huh?”
That makes your cheeks burn, but your attention finds itself more concerned with the urge to squeeze your thighs together.
You whine when he pulls his hand back out of your underwear, only for him to stand resolute in his actions.
“Not yet, sweet thing,” he hums, pressing you back down to the bed with a light but firm touch when you try to sit up.
He hushes you gently, murmuring for you to be patient as he shifts his position over you.
He starts to move down your body, leaving kisses in his wake. The sensation of his lips tracing down your stomach has you feeling butterflies.
By the time he reaches your waistline you’re borderline dizzy from the anticipation, squeezing your legs together in an attempt to alleviate the ache.
He pauses there for a moment, torturously, and noses at the seam of your panties. A whine from you has him chuckling and finally moving to where you need him.
He kisses your clit over your underwear and you’re fighting thoughts of embarrassment over how sure you are he can taste how wet you are over the fabric.
It doesn’t seem to be enough for him though, as he tugs your panties down slowly, kissing your thighs as he goes.
Bruce’s hands hold onto your waist as he eats you out, holding you in place with an easy grip.
You squirm against the feel of his tongue and you can’t quite figure out what to do with your hands. You almost wish he’d made you keep them above your head but really you’re not sure you’d be able to keep it together if he had. You’re not sure you’re keeping it together now.
He groans against your pussy, and one of your hands flies to grip his hair without permission from your brain. If you’re being honest with yourself though, your brain isn’t really the one calling the shots anymore.
You gasp when he licks a bold stripe, “Bruce—”
He groans again, briefly breaking away from you. “Oh, say that again.”
You sigh out, “Bruce, please.”
He makes a pleased hum. “Good girl,” he murmurs before diving back in.
He complies with your pleas generously, giving you more. He’s gradual but resolute as he inserts two fingers into you, giving you the time to adjust. But he’d evidently done a very thorough job prepping you for it, you’re so wet that the initial entry doesn’t sting like you’d expected. No, rather the first thing you register is closer to pleasure. A lot closer.
He begins to pump in and out of you at he continues to suck at your clit, and somewhere during you have a distinct thought of “oh this is it.”
You let out a little gasp and for once, you break out of your own head and just relish in the way his fingers curl inside you.
The way your thighs squeeze around him as you come, doesn’t hinder him one bit, only has him applying his ministrations with more intent. It doesn’t take long for the trembling of your body to give way to full on shaking, your body stuttering beneath him.
He continues working at you the entire way through your orgasm, until you’re flinching from overstimulation.
He gives you one more lick before looking up at you with hooded eyes. “Y’taste sweet too, you know that?”
You can feel the blood rush to your cheeks as he starts to move back up to face-level, kissing the high point of your cheekbone.
He pulls down on your bottom lip, your slick wet against your mouth.
You open without question, a clouding urge to please him the only thing running through your mind.
He grumbles a low, pleased sound as you do, moving his hand only to provide room for him to kiss you again.
He sits back up over you and starts unbuttoning his shirt and you realize only now that he’s still fully dressed.
He glances down to his belt as he undoes the buttons.
“Will you help me out, sweet girl?”
You blink a couple times before registering the request, still overwhelmed by how quickly and skillfully he’d made you come.
You struggle a bit to push yourself up into a sitting position, but he supports you by your waist, nipping along your jaw as encouragement.
Your hands shake as you undo the clasp, and while you’re still very much eager, if not moreso, you’re suddenly confronted with the very real possibility that you’re about to have your limits pushed. He ate you out and did a damn good job, stands to reason that he’d want you to return the favor.
So it takes you by surprise when he’s nudging you back against the pillows, removing his pants himself.
He keeps you occupied with an intense kiss as he does, and the distraction so smooth it’s almost like it’s rehearsed.
You follow his lead easily, though surprised by his lack of desire to get his fill too.
He drapes himself over you nicely, his size easily dwarfing you out. He’s quick to block your chin from tilting down, gently bringing your face back up to meet his.
He shakes his head lightly, murmuring, “Don’t worry about that. I got you.”
You are worried about it, but you trust Bruce, you know you do now.
You feel the weight of his cock against your stomach, at this exact moment, feeling like not much more than a daunting task.
“S’alright, sweet girl,” he lulls, brushing your hair back. “Okay?”
As heavy as the simple question is, you don’t need to think about it before you’re nodding and moving your hand to hold onto his bicep.
He peppers kisses all over your face as he starts to push in, effectively starting to distract you from the pain of the stretch. He hushes your whines soothingly and kneads at your waist with confident hands.
Your arms lock around his shoulders on instinct, your eyes squeezing shut as you try to convince yourself he’s almost all the way in, but you know you’ve got aways to go.
He pauses halfway, imploring you to open your eyes so he can check up on you properly.
“Talk to me, sweetheart,” he softly urges.
You will yourself to blink up at him and try to take on the challenge of both him and his gaze. Surely, an impossible task.
But you manage shaky eye contact that occasionally gives way to glancing down at his lips.
It doesn’t feel good yet, but it only makes you more eager to keep going.
“I’m okay,” you nod, taking a breath. “You can keep going.”
He waits to find that reassurance in your eyes before he continues to push in, bestowing you a deep kiss in reward for your bravery.
Once he’s nearly bottomed out he waits a moment, then begins to rock in and out slowly, letting you get used to a starter of the sensation.
He brushes your hair back, weaving through the strands. “There we go,” he coos as you look down between you. “Doing so good.”
Your gasp is louder than they had been before, and closer to a sigh now.
He’s fucking you gently, with a decorum that exceeds what you’d earlier told yourself you were stupid for hoping for.
It doesn’t take long at all for his movement to start to feel really good and your grip around his shoulders comes around to a different kind of intensity.
He noses against your jaw, applying kisses whenever convenient. “‘S that feel good, sweet girl? Hm?”
He hits a particularly deep spot in you immediately after and it makes you borderline squeak. He huffs out a laugh that’s nothing short of affectionate.
“Yeah?”
He then attacks that spot with extra intention, hitting it absolutely expertly every time. He speeds up a little, lips latched onto your neck as he fucks you nice and deep.
He drops a hand down between you and starts rubbing circles onto your clit with a pace that makes you want to scream.
You can’t help the moan you release when he teeths at your neck, clearly aiming to drive you crazy. But damn if he isn’t going about it the right way.
His circles pick up pace and you can be sure you’re leaving nail marks on his back. He seems to only get more encouraged by your sounds, working you closer and closer to the edge with every whimper.
He finally lets you over after a minute of shamelessly relishing in your moans, himself following close after.
He continues moving in and out of you until you’ve both completely finished, slowly coming to a stop.
You get a moment to catch your breath before he pulls out delicately. You don’t even realize he’s moved before he’s got his boxers back on and is halfway to the bathroom.
You’re a little alarmed by the sudden shift in proximity, though you guess that’s the playboy experience, isn’t it? After a second you hear water running and assume he’s taking a shower.
You push yourself to sit up fully, minding your achy thighs, and swing your legs over the side of the bed. You glance at the foot of the bed where your underwear lies, then back over by the couch where the rest of your clothes lay discarded. You briefly contemplate how quickly you can get your clothes back on when the bathroom doors open again.
You glance up at Bruce, dazed, who looks surprised himself to see you sitting up. As he makes his way back to the bed you notice the supplies he has in tow and your brain begins to slowly start turning its gears again.
You don’t realize the glass of water in his hand is for you until he’s pushed it into your palm.
His other hand carries a wet wash cloth that you, again, aren’t able to register the purpose for until it’s in action.
“Drink,” he tells you as he spreads your knees apart gently, wiping away the mess between your legs with a notable amount of compassion for your sensitivity.
You do, gulping a few as he finishes, tossing the rag in a hamper before setting your glass down on the side table.
Your eyes return to the end of the bed and you nearly decide to get up, but he’s still standing so close to you, you’re not sure this is the right time.
You seem caught halfway between decisions now, you know you do. You’d honestly preferred when you thought he’d just ditched you for a shower because at least then this part wouldn’t be so awkward.
He watches you closely as you deliberate and seems to draw a conclusion about your hesitation rather quickly. His brow pinches as he processes, tilting his head at you.
“You’ve got to be joking,” he says, bewildered. “Right?”
“I—” you falter, looking to the couch and back to him again. “No?”
He stares at you for a moment with an expression you can’t define.
“Lay down.”
You don’t have a second to process before he’s climbing back in bed too, pulling you down to lay your head on the pillow.
He pulls the covers over you and splays an arm over your waist, clearly firm in his decision for you to stay.
Your eyes are heavy and his bed is so comfortable, it’s difficult for you to even consider either of you wanting you to leave now.
Maybe you’ll just sleep for a little while, get some of your energy back.
The way he traces soft patterns across your stomach certainly encourages the idea and doesn’t give you much power to resist.
You let your eyes flutter shut to the feather-light touch and listen to the steady deepness of his breaths.
Well, this isn’t so bad either.
🐲 reblogging is an ancient art form, only the strong may master it 🐲
Random headcanon:
Leon being late to everything after Raccoon City because he realizes it's the only reason why he survived initially.
Only for him to break that cycle when he meets you and starts to show up early because he finally has something to impress and live for.
in a shocking turn of events, option 1 wins (yay!!!!!)
i’ve already worked on a few chapters of option 3, however, and published the first one on ao3. i still haven’t decided whether to keep going in that direction or devote myself to the other story, but you all seem a lot more interested in a leon college au sooo… 🤷♀️
ATTENTION ANY RESIDENT EVIL LOVERS!!
if i could just have a minute of your time…
i’ve always been one to plan stories and pile up drafts, but i’ve finally got the nerve to try and put them out. i have a few good (i think) ideas for some leon kennedy (😍😍) fics but i want to gauge what people would want to read and if people would read it at all. here are some options…
1. set in a college au, leon, a senior in college, reconnects with an old family friend during her first year at the same school. she’s sweet, he’s less than. Leon can’t help the urge he has to either shift his ways for her or take her innocence down with him…
childhood friends-ish to lovers, protective leon, college drama, frat boy leon? (maybe), slight age gap, hockey player leon
2. leon hasn’t seen her since high school, something he regrets but assumes she is thankful for. what he could have never expected, years later on his way to the police station he is soon to work for, was that he would be ripping her from the clutches of an undead creature and running for his life alongside her through deserted corridors and secret passageways.
enemies to lovers, leon was and sometime still is a big bully, angst, angst, angst!
3. rookie cop leon kennedy’s first day is worse than he could ever imagine. fleeing from the undead of raccoon city into the police station meant to be his home of employment, he meets two survivors- his soon-to-be-dead lieutenant and a pretty girl with a hell of an attitude.
super flirty leon and mc, this fic would follow the events of re2 very closely and would offer very little to that story but is heavily based on the romance
i doubt many people, if anyone, will see or interact with this, but for the love of god, help me bring more full length and giggle/blush-enducing leon kennedy fanfics to the slowly hollowing husk of the internet!!!
*feel free to leave any comments/suggestions/requests, i would love to have even a little bit of pressure to start writing and publishing!
i loved every second of this series
LAMBS TO THE SLAUGHTER, iv.
leon kennedy x religious f!reader
word count: 4.1k summary: god hates what he can’t have. masterlist | taglist | wips
previous chapter
18+ MDNI. DEAD DOVE. themes of religion, manipulation, religious rationalization, age gap(reader is 19, leon is 27), leon being mean for like a split second, kissing, virginity loss, fingering, praise, unprotected sex. this is pretty self indulgent, sorry.
a/n: okay so this might be the last chapter of lambs to the slaughter… i really don’t know how i want to end it so yeah, and i’d rather just wrap this up now that i still like writing about it than force myself to continue with no interest whatsoever. but i do have alot of wips and a few ideas for new series that i look forward to sharing w you guys soon :) thanks so much for the support on ltts, love all of you sm, and hope you all have a great christmas <3
he doesn’t know how it happened or how you ended up here, on the couch, with your arms wrapped around his neck and his hands tangled all up in your hair.
its’s the middle of the week and you went over to his place, like you usually did when your parents were out for work, and now you’re here, your breath hot against his neck and your body pressed close so to his. and it’s all he can focus on. you. you’re all he wants.
the two of you had kissed before, the first time being roughly two weeks ago when you came to him crying, your eyes were red and puffy, and fresh tears were streaking down your cheeks.
the next thing he knew, he had already smothered you with his mouth. it was hard. rough. messy.
when he pulled away, you almost immediately started to complain to him that it was wrong, that the two of you would go to hell for kissing before marriage, and he had to shut you up with another deep kiss before having to talk you through the fact that it wasn’t a bad thing and that the two of you were not gonna go to hell for it, seeing the tears start to swell up in your eyes again.
the coffee mug now sat forgotten on the coffee table, the drink now cold and untouched.
the way your hair feels, tangled between his fingers, as he threads them through the strands.
when he finally pulls back, you're both breathless. your lips are swollen, your hair is mussed, and your clothes are rumpled.
"hey," he reaches up, gently brushing his fingers through the strands of your hair. his other hand slides down your lower back, pulling you flush against him. you're quiet, your eyes fixed on his throat as he speaks. your breathing's harsh, and your body's tense.
“what's wrong?" he asks, his voice soft. you don't answer. can't answer. the words are lodged in your throat, threatening to choke you. all you can do is shake your head.
he kisses you again, his mouth slanting over yours. he shifts you slightly on his lap, so that you're settled on one of his thighs, one leg on either side of it. this new position allows for even closer contact. your body molds against his, fitting together like two pieces of a puzzle. his hands slide up your waist, his fingers gliding over your back, leaving trails of warmth in their wake.
“leon,” you shiver at the contact, his name falling from your lips like a plea.
his hands tighten on your back, fingers digging in just enough to ground you. “hmm?" he asks, his voice soft, but with a hint of something else. his hands move, one cupping the back of your head, the other on your hip, rocking you softly against his thigh.
one of his hands moves to your knee, gently pushing it forward. the action forces you to spread your legs slightly. the other hand's still on your hip, holding you in place. the hand at your knee begins to drift upward and under your dress, fingers dancing on the skin of your inner thigh. you tremble at the touch, your body reacting before your mind has a chance to process what's happening.
"feel good?" he murmurs against your ear, his breath hot on your skin. the question is rhetorical, and he doesn't wait for an answer.
fingers slip further beneath the dress, fingers splaying across your lower back and creeping up towards your bra clasp.
you try to complain, to object, but all that comes out is a stuttering mess. words jumble in your head, and your mouth refuses to form the right sounds. it's almost as if you've lost the ability to speak, overcome by your body's reaction to his touch.
“what’s wrong, baby?”
his fingers reach the clasp of your bra, and he gently unsnaps it. your body betrays you, arching into his touch despite your protests. his fingers find the underside of your breasts, and you jolt at the sensation.
“leon,” you whisper, voice barely audible. “leon, please… don't want to do anything wrong,"
"baby, there's nothing wrong with this," he murmurs, his breath hot against your ear. "do you trust me?” fingers slip under the waistband of your panties, and you tense, ready to push him away.
"please don't..." you shake your head, unable to find the right words to say. "what if... what if god doesn't understand?"
he pauses at your words, considering them for a long moment. "god gave us free will," he says finally, his voice soft but resolute. "and i think he'd be pretty damn disappointed if we didn't use it." his fingers continue probing into your clothed cunt, tracing the lace trim of your panties, his thumb rubbing slow circles on your clit through the fabric. you tremble at the contact, your hips shifting slightly of their own accord.
you arch into the touch, your back bowing, and your breath catches in your throat.
"doll," he whispers, the word is almost lost in the kiss he presses to the sensitive skin just behind your ear. "look at me."
you can't, can't bring yourself to do so. your eyes are screwed shut, and your face is flushed.
"c’mon, baby, open your eyes." he prompts again, his tone gentle. and when you refuse to comply, he stops moving his fingers altogether, leaving his thumb pressed to your clit through the lace of your panties.
the pressure is just enough to make you squirm, a constant stimulation that leaves you teetering on the edge.
he gently takes your chin in his hand and tilts your face up towards his. slowly, almost hesitantly, you crack your lids open, peeking through the slits.
"please," you whine, your voice high-pitched and desperate. failing to hide the need and desperation stirring within you. you can't form words, can't string together a coherent thought with his skilled fingers wreaking havoc on your senses. instead, you let out a feeble whimper, your head thrashing from side to side as pleasure mounts within you.
“there you go,” he coos, as if praising a small child for completing a task.
"see?" you search his face, seeking some sign of deception, but find only sincerity and unwavering devotion. "nothing bad is happening. it just feels good, that's all." your lashes flutter, struggling to obey. and yet, you yield. your body melting into his touch, and your head tilting back to rest against his shoulder. leon's hand slides up to cradle your face, his thumb caressing your cheek as he whispers reassurance against your hair.
"breathe for me, baby," he whispers, his lips brushing against your temple.
"it's alright," he soothes. "i've got you." your head starts to spin, and your heart pounds in your ears. your skin feels too tight, like it can barely contain the heat rising to the surface. his fingers finally find the edge of your panties, and with a swift motion, his thumb rubs against your clit, and you jolt, a strangled moan escaping your lips.
“leon,” you whine out, his name torn from your throat. his fingers continue their assault, rubbing and pressing against your cunt.
he chuckles low in his throat, the sound vibrates against your body. “yeah? you like that?”
you nod, unable to speak.
his tongue plunders your mouth, taking what he wants. you submit to the kiss, your body pliant against him.
you're sprawled across his lap, your legs draped over each other, your skirt riding up your thighs. his hands are everywhere at once, palming your breasts, teasing your nipples, rubbing your clit. you're panting, your breath coming in harsh gasps.
your skin's flushed, your cheeks burning, and your heartbeat's pounding in your ears. "fuck," he mutters, his eyes locked on yours.
two of his fingers swiftly push inside of you, and you cry out, your body bowing off his lap, nails digging into his thigh. he holds you steady, his other hand gripping your hip.
"relax, princess," he coos. "so tense."
you squeeze your eyes shut, your body trembling. his fingers move, sliding against the slick walls of your pussy.
you tremble and shake, your body trembling like a leaf in a hurricane. his fingers move, curling and straightening, rubbing against that one spot inside of you that makes you see stars. "lemme hear you, baby," he prompts. "make some noise for me."
you whimper, a broken, keening sound escaping your lips. he chuckles low in his throat, the vibrations of the sound seeming to reach down and press against your clit. "that's it, such a good little doll f’me. feels good, doesn’t it?"
he's right, it feels amazing. you've never felt anything like it before. his thumb is relentless against your clit, your hands fisting in his shirt. you're lost in a sea of sensation, his fingers and thumb working your cunt like it's the most important thing in the world.
“there you go, baby," he murmurs. "just a lil' more." you're not sure what he's asking for, not really. but you feel it in your bones, in the way your entire body is tightening up like a coil spring.
"lemme hear you," he prompts, his voice low and gravelly.
and then you do. you scream, the sound ripping from your throat as your body convulses and spasms. your vision goes white, and for a moment, you're weightless, floating in a sea of bliss. when you come back to yourself, you're slumped against him, your body limp and boneless. he's still rubbing your clit with his thumb, his fingers still curled inside of you, milking out every last wave of pleasure.
"so pretty when you cum," he breathes, his lips brushing against your temple. "so beautiful.”
you can't form a coherent response, not that you'd know what to say. your brain's gone mushy, and all you can do is sag against him. his fingers slowly withdraw, and you whimper, feeling the empty ache of your spent cunt.
“i wanna try somethin' else," he starts to maneuver you. "c'mon, baby, let’s get this off you," he says, pulling your dress up and off.
you don't protest, letting him strip you naked.
he helps you scoot further up the couch, until you're more reclined, your back pressed against the cushions. he settles between your spread thighs, his body looming over yours.
he positions himself at your entrance, the thick crown of his cock notched against your slit. he pushes forward, and you feel him start to penetrate, your body resisting his invasion.
"aah—“ you whimper, forehead creasing.
"n-no, don’t.." you try to protest, but it comes out as a moan. he chuckles softly, the vibration of his laughter sending shivers through your body.
"’m not doing anything wrong," he reminds you. "think you're forgetting that you’re the one who came to me."
his hands grip your knees, holding them back as he sinks more of himself inside of you. you whine, the sting of the stretch causing you to gasp. but it's a good stretch, like after waking up from a long nap. he sets a slow, deep pace, his hips rocking against yours. your hands reach out, grasping at his shoulders for balance.
"shh, 'm sorry, baby," he grimaces, his pace slowing. "gotta break you in real quick, ‘ts only gonna hurt a bit.”
you try to push against his chest, but he's too strong. he keeps pushing forward, forcing his way into your resisting body. the intrusion is painful, making you instinctively flinch and and jerk away.
"jesus, just fuckin— fucking relax, okay? you're only makin' it worse for yourself,"
he leans down, claiming your mouth in a deep, hungry kiss as he bottom's out, buried to the hilt inside of you. "mmpff—“ you mewl against his lips.
your cunt clenches around him, trying to coax him deeper. he groans into the kiss, the vibration of the sound sending tingles through your body.
he starts to move, his hips rocking against yours in a slow, deep grind. you're still sore, still stretching to accommodate his size, but with each passing moment, the pain fades, replaced by a growing sense of pleasure.
"feels good, doesn't it?" he asks, his voice a low rumble. "i know, dolly. i know,”
he nuzzles against your neck, his lips brushing against your skin as he sets a slow, easy pace. his hands slide up your legs, your thighs, your hips. one hand comes back up to hold your knees, pushing them down to spread you open.
"gonna take my time with you, princess," he murmurs, his lips brushing against your ear. "work you open, nice and slow,”
he's huge, and it hurts, but there's something else, something that makes the pain worthwhile. pleasure, building at the base of your spine.
he sets a slow, deep pace, his hips rocking against yours. your hands reach out, grasping at his shoulders for balance. you take a shallow breath, and then another, your body starting to unclench. he starts to pull back, sliding out of you, and you whine in protest. but he's just switching it up, angling himself and pushing back inside. and this time, it doesn't hurt so much. in fact, it feels downright good.
"you gotta breathe, baby," he pants, forehead pressed against yours. "just f'get about it. breathe."
he kisses you again, the movements slow and languid, like he's savoring something delicious.
you're not sure how long he works you open. it could've been minutes or hours. time seems to blur together into nothingness. at some point, he tilts his hips, and you feel him nudging against a spot inside of you that makes your whole body jerk. he does it again, and again, until you're writhing beneath him, your fingers digging into his shoulders.
"yeah, baby, that's it," he groans, forehead pressed against yours. "show me how bad you want it." you try to speak, to tell him that you don't know what he's talking about, that this is all wrong. but the words won't come.
all that comes out is a keening moan, a sound that's equal parts pain and pleasure. he's still easing you open, stretching you in ways you never thought possible. but it's no longer painful, not in the way it was before.
it's... pleasant. yeah, that's the only way to describe it. pleasant and good and right.
"fuckin’ hell, look at you, baby. takin' it so good, you were made for this, doll. made to take my cock," he starts to speak, his words a stream of praise and nonsense, but you barely register what he's saying. the words are distant, a blur of noise as your focus narrows down to the sensations raging through your body.
his hips are moving in a blur now, slamming into you with a rhythmic intensity that's pushing you towards some unknown precipice. he's saying things, praising you, telling you how good you look, how perfect your cunt is wrapped around his cock.
the words are lost on you, drowned out by the escalating tide of pleasure.
“i knew you'd fit me so good," he pants, his hips snapping harder now, driving deeper. "every inch of you made just for me. so perfect ‘nd pretty. and this perfect fuckin’ cunt... fuck, baby... tightest pussy i’ve ever had…" his words are a blur, a stream-of-consciousness praise that washes over you in waves. you can't process them, not really. all that matters is the feeling of him inside of you, stretching you wide, hitting that spot that makes sparks fly behind your eyes.
your nails dig into his shoulders, your back arching off the couch as he pistons in and out of you, each thrust driving you closer to the edge. your inner muscles are fluttering, clenching around him like a vice, urging him on.
"s'not fuckin' fair," he grunts, his pace faltering for a moment as he fights for control. he's chasing something, you can tell. his movements become jerky, erratic, like he's on the verge of losing control.
"feels too fucking good." he regains his composure, redoubling his efforts until the room is filled with the sound of flesh slapping against flesh and your high-pitched moans.
the pleasure builds and builds, coiling tighter and tighter in your gut until you're sure you'll snap. he's hitting that spot inside of you again and again, and you're teetering on the brink — it's all too much, and yet, somehow, not enough.
"please," you whimper, not even sure what you're begging for.
"yeah, baby?" he prompts, his hips stilling deep inside of you. "whatcha need?" you can't form the words, not really. your voice is hoarse, barely above a whisper. all that manages to slip out is:
"more."
his hips flex, and he slams into you again, the force of his thrust sending you sprawling back against the cushions. you gasp, your eyes widening as he bottoms out once more, his cock buried to the hilt inside of you.
"so greedy," his hips start to move again, slowly at first, but picking up speed as he senses your desperation. "atta girl.”
each thrust jars you to your core, and you can only cling to him, your nails raking down his back as you're fucked into oblivion.
his fingers weave through your hair, holding your head still as his lips trail over your face. he kisses your eyelids, the bridge of your nose, your cheekbones. each press of his mouth against your skin is gentle, soothing, a contrast to the roughness of his lovemaking.
"easy, baby," he coos, his voice a low, rumbling vibration against your ear that seems to seep into your very bones.
his fingers tighten in your hair, holding you as he peppers you face with a series of gentle, soothing kisses. he's a paradox — the way he's caressing you, holding you, so gently, delicately. but the way he’s been fucking you is anything but.
you feel the change in him, a subtle shift in his movements, his breaths. he's close, you realize, and so are you. there’s that coil in your stomach, something that’s warm and fluttering, building towards something you can't quite reach yet.
“leon, leon— feel weird, again..” you stumble on your words.
"weird's good, doll. means you're gettin' there,” he assures. “just... f'get about it. breathe,”
at the same time, he picks up his pace, his hips slapping against yours with a rhythmic intensity that threatens to shake the couch apart.
"gonna cum soon," he warns, his words a guttural groan, his thrusts even more erratic. "when i do, i want you to let go for me, 'kay? just... just fall apart," he buries his face in the crook of your neck, his hot breath washing over your skin.
"gonna fill you up," he grunts, his voice strained. "make a mess of your perfect little cunt.”
and your body responds, as if driven by an outside force. your muscles lock, your back arching impossibly high. your cunt spasms around him, milking his cock for all it's worth as it finally rips through you. a blinding, white-hot rush.
his cock throbs inside you, his hips stuttering against yours as he finally reaches the same peak.
hot strings of cum paint the inside of your walls as he empties himself deep inside you. he stays buried inside of you for long moments after, and you’re not sure exactly how long. but when you finally come down from the high, you find yourself draped across his chest, his hands rubbing slow circles on your back, your sides, soothing you as the aftershocks slowly dissipate.
you're a puddle of warmth and satisfaction, your body splayed beneath his, his softening cock still buried deep inside of you.
you're still limp and pliant in his arms, your breath coming in soft pants against his chest.
he shifts slightly, easing his himself out of you with a soft squelch. you flinch at the sensation, and he notices, his grip on you tightening as he pulls you into his arms. he strokes your hair, your back, your sides, his touch gentle and soothing.
"stay a little longer, alright? just... a little bit more," he asks, his tone sweet and pleading. you blink slowly, trying to clear the haze from your mind. it's hard to think clearly when he's speaking to you like this, his words dripping with affection and adoration.
he's saying things, nice things, telling you how amazing you are, how perfect you are for him, how much he needs you. it's all a blur, a warm, fuzzy haze that surrounds you, envelops you. it makes you feel cherished, special, like you're the only person in the world.
and you feel like you'd do anything to please him, to make him happy.
your mind flits to the clock on the mantle, its numbers seeming to mock you. you should go home, you know that. your parents will be back soon, and you can't afford to be late again.
“leon… i can’t,”
“c’mon, baby," he whispers, his breath hot against your skin. "just a few more minutes,” you swallow hard, your pulse fluttering in your throat. it makes you weak in the knees, it takes everything in you not to give in to his request.
“but—“
his arms tighten around you, holding you impossibly close as he nuzzles into the crook of your neck. "please, doll," he murmurs in a low, honeyed tone that seeps into your very bones. "i need you. just a little more time, 'kay?" his words are a gentle persuasion, a tender plea that tugs at your heartstrings.
he's been so gentle with you, so caring. "i'll make it up to you," he promises, his lips brushing against your earlobe. "i'll take you out, wherever you want to go. just... stay with me a little longer, okay?”
the room feels smaller somehow, as though the world itself has shrunk to the space between his heartbeat and yours. your lips part, the beginnings of another protest forming, but the weight of his gaze stops you short. there’s something in his eyes —dark, pleading, a flicker of vulnerability that you can’t quite name.
“okay,” you whisper at last, the word barely audible, a ghost of sound that slips past your lips before you can think better of it.
his face softens instantly, relief washing over his features like a summer tide. “yeah?” he breathes, his smile curling slow and dangerous, like he knows he’s won.
you nod faintly, unsure of what exactly you’ve just agreed to, or why it feels both terrifying and impossible to resist. your thoughts churn, hazy and fragmented, but his fingers are already lacing through yours, grounding you, tethering you to this moment.
“that’s my girl,” he murmurs, his voice a low, velvet hum that sends shivers down your spine. “i knew you’d understand.”
you close your eyes, letting yourself sink further into his embrace. it’s too easy, the way his words coax you into letting go of the worries clawing at the edges of your mind. for now, it feels safe — his arms, his voice, the way he holds you as if you’re something precious, something he can’t bear to let slip away.
he pulls you closer, your head resting on his shoulder, your legs tucked up against him. you can feel his heartbeat against your cheek, steady and strong. "rest, baby," he soothes. "you had a long day.”
tags: @crowleyco @withonly-sweetheart @fanilkychae @clitorphosis
someone pleasseeeee recommend full length leon fics!! either on here or ao3. i have found so many oneshots that i love but am struggling to find so lengthy works.
@mychemicalromantics on ao3.
“I’m good with words, but not when it’s important. Not when something real is on the line.”
Leon might be a little overconfident. When it comes to women, sports, his job. On the night of September 29, however, it became blatantly clear that nothing, not even cockiness and faux self-assurance, could make any of that night’s events easier. Well, maybe except for a companion that could hold her own and fluster him a bit.
...be ready (;
i want to start writing but voting on my next fic hasn’t ended yet 😫😫
i might just have to put something out 🤷♀️
One day, I will be at my own place, eating a pizza on Christmas Day and giving no shit about anyone.