#*sigh* 30 MINUTES REMAIN…………………………………………… | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sobbingscripter · 2 months ago

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Tags: [part 2 of this][mdni][mlw][aged up][arranged marriage][friends to lovers][fingering][clit play][mating press][doggy style][cervix kissing][implied cum eating][premature ejaculation][squirting?]

You barely stir when Damian's sleepy, weary form returns at 4AM, slipping into the comfortable spot between your arms and his face nestles into the curve of his neck.

Strong arms wrap around your waist, tugging you closer to him, the warmth from his body is basically non-existent, your nipples pebbling at the coldness of his frosty skin pressed against your warm, soft flesh and you mumble sleepily.

"Always knew you were a snake."

Damian lets out an exhausted huff of a laugh, fingers sinking into the hair at the nape of your neck, scratching at your roots with blunt fingernails and calloused fingertips before his lips brush against your pulse. Pressing his lips against the curve of your neck, he takes a sharp breath through his nose before sitting up the tiniest bit.

Your eyes are still closed.

Lashes flutter with the bare minimum of coherence, pouty lips pressed into that sleepy, almost imperceptible frown that you've always slept with. Such an angry sleeper, and Damian finds his thumb brushing across the plump flesh of your bottom lip, pressing a kiss to your forehead before he murmurs low, almost to himself.

"I'm not gonna shower."

All Damian's interested in, is being in your company. Whether you're asleep or not, and icy fingertips trace down the curve of your spine, and Damian watches your frown deepen as you move away from his icy grasp, instead, pressing against his already warmed torso.

Thank God for thick covers.

"Feels like you fingered a snowman."

Damian lets out a laugh at that, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he stares down at you, and he raises one of his hands to his lips, fingertips pressing against the flesh to check the temperature for himself and he winces.

"I might have." He mumbles, before moving closer to you, his face returning to the warmth of your neck and your hand travels to the back of his neck without a second thought.

"How was patrol?" You murmur quietly, the slightest of slurs to your speech and Damian just lets out a deep sigh.

A low, almost petulant sound with a warm breath. Internally, it's to see if you'll understand exactly what he means by that, but also, it's an inherent response.

And you let out a sleepy snort.

"Waynes don't kill, Damian." You murmur. "It's not the Batman way."

"I know." Damian mumbles before his brows knit the tiniest bit, his pearly teeth nibbling on his bottom lip as he thinks.

You have the Al Ghul surname, and he wonders if he should bring it up.

"Beloved, your surname..." Damian hums quietly, his fingers absentmindedly tracing along the dip of your waist, his free hand tangled in your hair.

"I'm keeping it." You announce. "Al Ghul has... Gravitas. It's sexy and like...— Wayne?" You repeat the surname, a snort of laughter to your lips as your nails scratch against the nape of his neck.

The two of you are shrouded in thick covers and a lack of light, a thundering storm outside the brick walls of the manor, rain pouring and washing away the filth left behind by the criminals.

The fresh scent clings to the air, accompanied by a nose-burning frost.

"Mrs Al Ghul." Damian murmurs, enjoying the familiarity of calling you that.

When you were younger, he'd call you that to tease you on the fact that you'd taken his surname. A boast, in his own way. You'd become an extension of him.

His heart, undoubtedly.

"Mr Wayne." You repeat quietly and it just... It makes an unpleasant itch in his name that you don't have the same surname anymore. And he chuffs, hands moving to grasp your hips firmly, thumbs brushing along the protruding bones before pressing a long, lingering kiss to your pulse, which slowly becomes more erratic the longer his lips remain.

"No, beloved. I'm going to be Al Ghul tonight."

And Al Ghul, he is.

After a 30 minute shower, Damian steps out of the en suite smelling like a mixture of spices and musk.

A unique mixture of his that could only ever entice you.

Oud and cinnamon, cardamom powder with the tiniest hint of smoke.

Droplets of water travel down the carvings within his muscles, his body perfectly toned and covered in taut, tanned skin that glows the prettiest golden hue in the slivers of warm light that creeps through the slightly agape en suite door.

A dark grey towel clings to his hips, lowering with each step he takes. A commanding aura surrounds him, alongside the steam that rises from his skin and he runs a damp hand through his messy hair, carding the strands out of his face although that mischievous curl keeps clinging to his dewy forehead.

"You're looking at me funny." Damian speaks, arms moving to cross over his chest, that emerald and tungsten ring glinting on his finger in a way that makes your pussy throb. You can tell that he's trying to put you on the spot, that faint twitch of the corner of his mouth, the glint in his eyes.

And you let out a scoff.

"Cause you're funny looking."

Damian raises a thick, dark brow and you feel your palms become sweaty.

This isn't a trust fund kid. This isn't American.

This is the exact same person from back then. Broad, squared shoulders, proud posture. An Arabian-Mongolian prince who knows that his spot at the top of the food chain is secured, and he doesn't need to hide that.

He looks like he's only missing peacocks and concubines who wear sheer fabric and dance with feathery fans.

"You're intimidated." Damian speaks, his voice low, a husky timbre that makes your belly flop. And you huff, but before you can answer, his hand moves to your ankle and he tugs you closer to him, towards the edge of the bed.

"But I would be too." He leans forward, a knee between your thighs and his face nears yours, before his lips press against your temple.

No cockiness, no teasing, just love that makes his lips linger before brushing against the curve of your ear.

"Love of my heart, let me adore you."

—♱—

Two fingers pump into your drooling cunt, Damian's lips press sweet, soothing kisses to the curve of your neck and the side of your face. Your lips part to let out moans that die when his thumb begins to circle your clit, stoking the flame that burns in your belly.

And he leans forward, pressing a kiss to your bouncing throat, dragging his tongue along your jugular vein before he lets out an almost reverent sigh.

"Look at me, my beautiful wife." Damian breathes out, watching as your lashes flutter and big, bleary doe eyes look up at him, your bottom lip caught between your teeth to stifle any sounds and he presses a kiss to the space between your brows.

"Your eyes are the only my heart answers to."

Damian murmurs softly, his lips pressing against yours, swallowing the moan you let out when your toes curl, your belly's knot snapping and you come on his fingers.

Liquids trickle down your thighs, soaking through the sheet beneath you and he keeps fucking you with his fingers. Rough pads brush against that gummy spot, and he watches the way your brows crease and twitch at the sensations of him curling his fingers.

You can feel the coolness of his wedding ring brush against your puffy, overstimulated pussy lips and your thighs twitch.

"My goddess."

Damian croons, pulling his fingers out of you before licking them clean, savouring the taste of you on his finger before he lifts you with ease, resting your head on one of the pillows.

And two fingers, two very strong, muscular fingers stroke your folds teasingly, before nestling comfortably over your clit.

You're not sure what it is.

If it's the speed at which his digits vibrate against your clit, if it's the way he sucks hickeys into the skin of your thighs but your stomach sucks in and you barely muffle the whine that leaves you as you cum.

Trickling the smallest little spurt of squirt against his palm.

And Damian's hums, teasing your clit with the tip of his tongue, flat against the sensitive and overstimulated bud until your hand pushes at his forehead, trying to catch a breather.

You're barely able to string together a coherent sentence before Damian's sliding into you, cock stretching you until there's a burn in your walls. Your nails dig into his biceps, tears threatening to spit from your eyes and he leans over you, lips pressing adoring kisses to your eyes.

"It's gonna feel really good, I promise." Damian breathes quietly, his hands moving up your sides to cup your breasts, your thighs on either side of him. And twitching against his sides when his thumbs brush over your pebbled nipples, his lips pressing against your tear-stained cheeks and he's still.

Trying not to come too quickly at the inviting warmth of your cunt, gummy walls adjusting to his intrusion as his thumbs tease and circle your nipples.

And Damian feels your hands move to his lower belly, nails dragging along the skin over his abs and he knows he can move.

Slowly, Damian drags his cock out of you, leaving only the plump, flushed tip buried in you before he pushes back into you.

You're warm. So, so warm.

He's never felt this before.

Damian's face is flushed, his body smattered with goosebumps and his hands move to your thighs, squeezing the flesh in his calloused hands before lifting them.

Pushing your knees to your chest, and Damian slowly picks up the pace.

He inclines just enough for his pubic bone to make the best amount of friction against your oversensitive clit, your nails scratching at his broad back, your lashes fluttering and your lips parted to let out the cutest little breathy moans and Damian moans.

A low, whiny sound that has his voice cracking before he pulls out of you, resting his cock flat on your mound before letting out a shuddering breath.

"Shit, you're so tight and warm." Damian sighs, carding his fingers through his raven strands, his chest heaving before he taps the head of his cock against your sopping folds.

And he watches your body twitch and Damian lets out a quiet snort, before his hands caress your hips, thumbs tracing over the spots where there are the faintest stretch marks.

Before Damian shifts you, your knees and hands pressing against the mattress and the silken sheets, and your back arched. Before relaxing into the position, your forearms folded over one another and your cheek resting against the pillow, your arch deepening into a steep slope.

And Damian gulps.

"You intimidated?" You tease, wriggling your hips lazily before Damian's hands bracket them, and he scoffs.

"As if." He mutters under his breath, before pushing himself into your hole, the warmth inviting and so so tempting, and Damian leans forward, pressing a kiss to the nape of your neck.

His hands caress the curve of your spine, pawing at your hips and waist, as his hips roll against yours.

Damian's leaky cock meets your cervix, sloppy kisses pressed deeper than you thought anything could reach and your brain is already mush. Leaky wetness dripping down his twitching length.

You're so close.

Any cocky comment flies out of your lips, and your walls flutter when Damian lets out that breathy, boyish laugh at the sight of your hand moving to rest against the headboard.

"Are you intimidated?" Damian mocks, before he feels that rhythmic clamp of an orgasm as you whine into the pillow, your eyes fluttering shut as you come, spasming around his cock.

And he shudders, pulling out of you immediately and Damian flips you onto your back, sitting back on his haunches before he comes.

Pearly white liquid, thick and stringy cum clings to your pussy, he jerks himself, milking his cock and painting your pretty pussy with his spent.

Damian moans softly, his jaw clenching as he tries to keep quiet, not wanting to let anyone know that after a decade, his marriage is....

Thoroughly, consummated.

And Damian shifts, resting on his stomach and you'd have to be even more blinded to not see the way his lips quirk in excitement, his hands guiding your thighs to rest on his broad shoulders and his calves lift the tiniest bit, absentmindedly kicking as he stares at your messy cunt.

And slowly, Damian drags his tongue through your cum-covered folds.

"I've always enjoyed licking the frosting off my dessert first."

#sobbingscripter #dc comics smut #dc smut #dc #dc comics #damian wayne #damian wayne x you #damian wayne x reader smut #damian wayne x reader #damian wayne smut #damian al ghul

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shushmal · 6 months ago

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Eddie sits and watches Steve’s kitchen clock slowly count closer and closer to their movie time—closer, then past. It’s 30 minutes gone from showtime when he hears the bathroom door upstairs close and shut, and Steve’s bedroom door quietly doing the same.

Wincing, Eddie counts down slowly from 100, lets Steve wallow for a bit, before he gets down from his stool to head up.

“Hey,” Eddie murmurs, sitting beside the lump under Steve’s blankets. The lump does not reply. “Baby, you okay?”

“No,” it whines, and Eddie’s glad Steve has shoved his head under his pillow because Eddie can’t help cracking a smile. “I’m dying, and I’m a shitty boyfriend, and you’re going to dump me.”

Eddie scoffs. “The day I dump you is the day you send me to the funny farm,” he says, mock serious. “You do shit a lot though, babydoll.”

Steve whines louder. “It’s not fair! You eat expired hotdogs! Raw! Straight from the fridge!!”

“Guts of steel, Stevie! Your upper middle class suburban tummy would shrivel and die in the face of things I’ve eaten.”

“It’s shriveled and died already, thanks.”

Eddie laughs, and rubs his hand along Steve’s arm. He knows better than touching him anywhere else when Steve’s stomach is upset. But the fact that he’s in bed, under the covers, must mean the worst is over.

“You want me to get you anything?”

“New organs and a surgeon to put them in.”

“I was thinking more like water? Toast? Pepto?”

“A quick and painless death?”

“I’m afraid I can only offer you kisses and cuddles when you feel up for it. And the aforementioned consumable items.”

Steve’s head comes out from under the pillow and he squints at Eddie. His hair is standing up in wild spikes, and Eddie chews his lip to keep himself from laughing.

“Who the fuck says shit like aforementioned, you absolute dork.”

“You love me,” Eddie says, grinning.

Wrinkling his nose, Steve sighs, flopping back down on the bed. “I guess,” he admits, looking up at Eddie through his lashes with a little, miserable smile, and taking Eddie’s breath away. Even when he’s miserable and whiny, Steve remains the prettiest person Eddie’s ever had the luck to lay eyes on. “I guess I’ll take a water. And a kiss, if it’s not too much trouble.”

Eddie grins, leaning down. “Anything for you, princess.”

#stranger things #steddie #hot girls have ibs #I have revealed too much of myself I fear #I did also google to see if pepto was widely used i the 80s yes #my steddies

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cmdrfupa · 3 days ago

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Lifetime

post shibuya!nanami x caregiver!reader

A series dedicated to healing and letting yourself have a second chance in this lifetime.

Inspired by this song that brings me to tears every single time.

content warning: shibuya arc, mentions of death, mental health awareness, angst(eventual comfort), burn victim so expect some detailed imagery.

wc: 4.9k

an: thank you for reading. I love you lots.

Time seemed to trickle as Nanami waited for his physical therapist to arrive.

First at home session since being discharged.

4 days a week, 30 minutes a day.

“Individualized exercise program including rigorous activities as you progress to help you regain your independence.. Sure.” Nanami read from the pamphlet out loud and sighed as he looked over the stack of literature he left the rehab facility with.

He was thankful that he was deemed fit enough to continue his healing at home after 11 weeks in the best facility Gojo could find. While it accommodated every possible concern one could have, he was certain he wouldn’t feel confident in being self sufficient until he was able to put all he had learned into practice at home.

So there he was, sifting through paperwork and sipping his coffee as he awaited his new physical therapist and as Ino finished cleaning his kitchen.

“I think thats it! Lunch is in the black container on the top shelf in the fridge and I’ve prepped dinner for when Gojo comes to cook. Anything else before I’m off?” Takuma grabbed his keys, the jangle bringing Kento out of his reading trance as he looked up.

“Yes, that should be fine. I appreciate you coming over every morning Takuma. But it’s not necessary.”

Takuma scoffed, almost offended at the idea. “Nonsense. Its just a little breakfast and lunch. Its on my way to the school anyway. Consider it a small help.”

He could protest but Takuma would simply find another way to make himself useful. Whether it be taking him to his appointments or coming to slather his injuries: he was going to find a way to be of help.

As he adjusted his cast as best he could, a text popped up from an unsaved number.

>Hello, Mr. Nanami! Currently heading to you. ETA is ten minutes.

Signed with your name, Nanami simply reads the text and reacted to the message with thumbs up.

“Thank you, Takuma. Truly. But I think thats everything. My physical therapist is on their way so I’ll just hang out til then.”

“Alrighty! I’ll be working mostly on campus so just shoot me a text if you need me. Take it easy, Nanami.” with that, Ino grabbed his jacket and proceeded out the front door.

Nanami exhaled and got up to sit at the window. The mid morning sun was gentle but insistent, that soft golden hue brightening everything it touched.

It wasn’t harsh, just warm enough to remind Nanami of the outside world, a quiet promise that time was still moving. The warmth on his right side almost felt foreign as the dust mites danced lazily in the light. He closed his eyes, taking in the fragile sense of something stirring inside of him— reposeful comfort in the way the sun didn’t have a sudden, overwhelming wave of joy but a soft declaration that he was still here.

Nanami hadn’t had many moments to really think about just how life changing the incident had been. Half of his body littered in 3rd degree burns, a third of that, 4th degree. Loss of hair on one side, an eye patch over his eye and a lack of feeling down his left arm.

He’d looked at himself in the mirror exactly once since the incident and didn’t do it again until he acquired his face prosthetic recently.

It was bulky and itchy, but it alleviated the deformities and more importantly, kept him from being too hard on his own appearance.

The moment felt necessary. Reminding him that the sun remained a constant while other things changed.

“I’ll need to see if I can sit outdoors for a few minutes a day. Would be good for me.” he noted outwardly before a light tapping at the front door had him shuffling towards the foyer.

One moment, please.” he paused a few paces before he reached the door to look down, remembering his shirt had a hole near the hem of it. He didn’t have time to change but only hoped the therapist wouldn’t see him as some undetermined slob with no real concern on how he looked.

He took a deep breath and opened the door.

“Mr. Nanami?”

“That would be me.”

“Perfect! Hello! I was sent by the health and wellness agency as part of your transitioning to home health care. We have an appointment. May I come in?”

No scrubs, no accessories to signify you were a medical professional. Just a badge clip holding your ID with “HHA” boldly sitting under your name.

“Sure. Come on in.” He led you into the house, slowly walking into the living room and nodding towards the couch as you stood next to him.

You grin and sat on the far end of the couch, near the window, “Thank you.” you sat your tote littered in small pins on the coffee table and pulled out a somewhat thick file.

“Would you like anything to drink? Water, coffee?”

Shaking your head, you tapped the top of your bag. “No thank you. I have my tumbler. But I appreciate it!”

Nanami slightly bowed his head and sat in the solo chair next to the couch. “Alright so, how do we start this? I was told I’d see you four days a week with one more day possibly if I need to.”

You pursed your lips, looking down at your paperwork before looking back up to meet his neutral gaze.

“I believe that’s your physical therapist that you will be seeing four days out of the week.”

“Then pardon me for being so… impolite. But who are you exactly?”

The laugh that left your lips was a soft one but enough for Kento to lift his lips into a slight smile.

“I realize your discharge team didn’t give you names, faces, or titles. My apologies.”

“It happens.”

You continued. “I’m your Home Health Care Provider. While you were still in recovery, you met with your primary care provider and you spoke of your in home care, correct?”

Nanami nodded. “Yes.”

“Going over the team you’d have for your in housee rehabilitation, you were assigned a home health aide 5 days a week.”

His brow furrowed. “So you are that, I assume?”

“Yes. I will also be the one looking over the full team that provides you with your in-home care.”

“This feels very unnecessary.” The tone in his response was sharp. “I have people who come to help me with my daily needs. Having an entire team sounds like an exhausting back and forth to have coming to my house. A waste of resources.”

Your demeanor remained soft and understanding as you listened to his concerns. “Mr. Nanami. I understand that it sounds overwhelming. If I had to be in the predicament of needing a care team after an incident, I too would be a bit apprehensive.”

“But you aren’t. I am.”

The immediate smile that grew on your face wasn’t one that came from kindness. It was your defense, albeit an understandable one. “You are correct. I’m not. But I implore to at least hear me out on why its important to have us.”

A rush of emotions filled Kento’s chest. He wanted to pull his hair out from sheer frustration. But he remained calm.

His discomfort was obvious to you and you wanted to remedy the ache somehow.

“I want you to have an idea of what this could look like as you approach the first steps of gaining a sense of normalcy. Would you be willing to let me give you an example of what a week may look like for you? And if you don’t like it, we can adjust to a schedule that fits better for you.”

“Let’s hear it, then.”

“Splendid.” You reached into your file and pulled out a thoroughly detailed schedule and turned it for Nanami to look along with you.

“So, this schedule is based loosely on the day to day you had while in the rehab facility. No matter who, anything involving someone from your team wouldn’t be arriving until 10am. This is unless you decide to utilize me. Then I would be here at 7 every morning to aide you with your morning routine.”

“What if I don’t want extensive help?”

“I would respect the boundary.”

Nanami took a closer look at the schedule, seeing the words ‘kitchen prep healing exercise’ highlighted for every Tuesday and Thursday. “What does this entail? Kitchen prep healing.”

“Your passions shouldn’t suffer because of changes. So I created a regimen that would help us get in the kitchen and get busy while making sure we help maintain your range of motion and fine motor skills.”

Nanami looked up at you for a moment, trying to assess just how serious you were about changing what he was uncomfortable with.

“So if I only need you for meal prep and assisting with chores around my house.”

“Then I will only help you with meal prep and assisting with your chores around the house.”

He handed the schedule back to you. “And if it isn’t something that I’ve mentioned?”

Trying to test you. Cute. “If you mention to me that would like me to assist you in going to the grocery store, fixing your bed, helping you get ready for your appointments, then I will. Because my goal is having you confident in yourself and your abilities.”

That nagging feeling of what if filled his chest and mind. Nanami knows he can’t do it alone. But to be a burden is the last thing he wants to ever become.

“I don’t want to become too dependent on you and your teams’ services.” He sat up as best he could, stretching out his legs and wincing at the unexpected intensity of his blood flowing through his left leg.”

Not wanting to lose the momentum, you sat on the edge of the couch alert of and aware of the pain he showed. “Your independence will not falter. We are merely an extension. We are the claw arm that’s in your reach if the jar of pickles are too high up, if you will.”

Nanami tried to stop the half smile on his face but faltered. “I understand.”

“Do you have any questions for me?” You smiled politely.

“A few,” Nanami cleared his throat. “When it comes to changing my dressings..”

“I will be the only one who sees them completely outside of your primary physician.” You answered, as if you were waiting for that specific question.

“Second question: can you properly fold a fitted sheet?”

You laughed, nodding. “The trick is in how you hold the corners. Line up the creases and you’ll always have a perfect fold.”

Nanami nodded. “Interesting.” The intense blood flow in his legs ceased and his body noticeably relaxed. He sat forward. “Final question, if you were to start tomorrow, could we have your start time for 8am? I like having the first hour of the day to myself.”

“If you want me here at 8 am, I will be at the door by 7:55 to knock at 7:59.”

The moment of silence was filled with hope as you realized you got to him. You let him see genuine concern and thats all he wanted. But this was only the beginning. And you were willing to be his guide to a sense of independence all the way through.

___________________________________________

The silence of the early morning was heavier than usual— a quit hum of of the refrigerator reached his room as he slept with his bedroom door open now, a new practice he’s since learned is a response to his trauma.

He sat on the side of his bed, staring down at his slippers that warmly held his feet as the barely visible morning light filtered through the curtains, soft and unrelenting.

“I embrace healing.” He spoke out loud, his voice still low, sleep riddened, as he slowly rose from the bed and grabbed his cane.

“We aren’t going to be hard on ourselves because this is still new to you, Kento. Its okay to not know what to do.”

Mornings were more of a drag than he would like for them to be.

His body was more stiff. More rigid. He needed 30 minutes minimum to sit on the side of the bed and stretch just to muster up enough internal energy to get up and grab his cane.

He sounded off, flipping the bathroom light on and adjusting the sink to run warm water. “Today will be a great day.” He washed his hands, meticulously washing between his fingers and flicking the excess off his fingers before he dried them, reaching for a clean towel and letting it soak under the faucet.

“You will be more than okay.” this time, he spoke as if someone would overhear him talking to his self.

Nanami shook his head, lowly chuckling at what he found himself doing.

Yuji began to send him various videos that initiated ‘positive self talk’ and ‘daily affirmations for healing the body.’ Yuji hoped to try and help expedite a process that Megumi told him more than fives times, would take awhile.

Slowly pulled away the dressing on his cheek, Nanami watched small bits of dead tissue peel away from his healing skin. He threw it in the trash hamper, then pumped a small dot of antimicrobial soap on the wet towel he’d soaked and gently began to wash his face.

He looked closely, inspecting every patch he wiped over to take notice of any changes in how his skin looked. He tried very, very hard to not look into his own eyes.

Rinsing and patting to dry, he washed his hands again then reached for the jar of salve, precisely swiping a thin layer over his left cheek and forehead before he placed his transparent face mask on.

Finishing up his morning bathroom routine went without a rush. Going to throw on yet another loose fitting t-shirt and casual pants before sliding his slippers back on.

Slow and steady. Nice and easy.

“I am going to have a great day today.” the rubber end of his walker softly thudded against the wooden floors as he made his was down the hall. “It is a new day. New chances.”

He wasn’t going to confirm or deny if these affirming exercises were doing anything. But he’d admit that saying them aloud was probably the silliest he’d felt ever doing anything.

The living room held a welcoming warmth as he drew the blinds open that faced the street.

The third floor apartment view was always the one thing that made the asking price of his condo worth it to him.

The patchwork of traditional rooftops and modern buildings met the edge of the cities outskirts. Bare branches stood against the pale early morning winter sky, hints of early plum blossoms added a hint of a spring that would soon come and wipe away the muted landscape.

Kento sat on the window seal, taking in the low mountains in the distance. That thin veil of mist hiding the peaks that were still dusted in snow. With a deep inhale, he looked down at the street to see a bundled up pedestrian loading his car with boxes as another, that looked only slightly familiar, was exiting their car in a slow jog to the front steps of his building.

He glanced over at the clock on the wall.

7:55 am.

“Timely.”

slowly, he went to open the rest of the blinds around the living room, a slow tango that made him a feel like he still had just enough control, timing the last curtain opening perfectly as your soft knock filled the foyer yet again.

He stood there for a moment, his hand resting on the frame, before opening the door and stepping aside in a half step to let you in. His expression was neutral — not unkind, but carefully composed, as if he were still deciding how much space to give you in his life.

“Good morning,” you spoke softly, offering a polite smile.

“Morning,” Nanami replied, his voice low and steady. “I was about to make myself a simple breakfast. Coffee too.”

It wasn’t quite an invitation, but it wasn’t a dismissal either. It was just a statement — a line drawn firmly down the middle.

You nodded. “That sounds good.”

You sat your bag down on the ottoman against the wall and followed his lead. The condo was quiet — too quiet, the kind that felt deliberate. Like he'd stripped the space of anything deemed unnecessary. A few trinkets here and there, clean lines, muted colors.. But the kitchen felt like the homeliest part of the space.

Black stainless steel appliances, cold press juicer and blender sitting on the counter. A top of the line built-in double electric convection wall oven, a display of every herb and spice on a dark mahogany shelf sitting high on the wall.

“You have a very beautiful kitchen.” Your eyes grazed over the quartz cabinets, taking in the light blue finishes until you landed on what you knew to be as the best stand mixer that only experts chefs and bakers would have.

“You have a Bosch… Its even more beautiful in person.” You inspected it as if it were a lost artifact seeing the light for the first time in 500 years.

Nanami cocked his head for a moment. “Are you that taken by a stand mixer?”

“Mr. Nanami, I’d have to work 3 weeks nonstop to not only get the mixer but to financially recover from it.”

Your half suppressed laugh had Kento smiling. “Understandable. It is a big purchase. I use to bake fresh bread for my weekly use.”

“You’ll have to give me a demonstration one day! Would love to see the Bosch in action.”

Nanami raised his brows. “You think I can get back to that one day?”

The small flick of something resembling hope flecked in the richest parts of his brown eyes.

“We can get you back to that. I’m sure of it.”

He nodded, a silent acceptance of an unspoken challenge. He opened the refrigerator, bearing his weight on the cane as he used his dominant hand to grab the butter, holding it out.

“Do you mind taking things as I pass them to you?”

You reached out, taking the butter and placing it on the counter. “Don’t mind at all.”

A pack of bacon, a jar of jam and an orange followed after and you awaited his next instruction.

“I’m going need your help with peeling orange. I believe I can manage the rest.”

With quiet acknowledgment, you grabbed the orange and began to peel as he placed 2 pieces of bacon in the skillet.

It took less than 10 minutes and Nanami moved to the dining table, a slice of toast placed next to his bacon on a plate and setting out a small dish of fruit with the addition of an apple now. You brought out 2 mugs of coffee, placing his in front of him and sitting across from him with yours.

A butter knife rested awkwardly beside the jar of jam he chose. It was clear he had intended to do more, but something had stopped him.

You didn’t move or say anything, you sipped your coffee and watched as he reached for the jar. His right hand gripped the jar while his left hovered over the lid. His fingers trembled — just slightly — but enough that the lid refused to budge.

You didn’t move at first. You’d quickly learned that Nanami wasn’t the type to appreciate overstepping, even if it came from a place of concern. So you waited, giving him the space to either push through the task or acknowledge the struggle.

After a long moment, his jaw tightened. The jar didn’t budge.

You opened your mouth — not to offer help, but simply to ask if he wanted you to hold the base of the jar steady when his voice cut through the silence.

“Can you…” He paused, the word tasting foreign on his tongue. “Can you open this for me?”

It wasn’t a whisper, nor was it loud. Just a calm, measured request, but you could hear the effort behind it — the weight of a man who wasn’t used to asking for assistance.

You stood and went to his side of the table and gently placed your hand on the lid. “Turn when you’re ready.”

His hand dropped away, switching his left hand out for the right gripping the glass part and his left fingers curling into a loose fist at his side. The lid gave way with a soft pop, and you set it down in front of him without a word.

He didn’t thank you, but there was a small nod — barely noticeable, but it was there.

“Would you like me to slice the apple for you?” you asked, careful not to overstep.

Nanami shook his head. “No. I can manage.”

You sat back down, sipping your coffee as he asked you more questions about your fascination with his Bosch.

_______________________________________

The morning moved quickly. Breakfast cleanup was a breeze as Nanami continued his light reading and non rigorous solo exercises.

During breakfast, you’d been given what you called the key to the cupboard by Nanami. He uttered, with few words, that he didn’t want to prevent you from doing your job. While he limited what that might be, he was quick to say how appreciative he’d be if his bed could be made up, his laundry started and lunch done. He’d have a friend come by to do the rest.

You happily complied and began working on laundry the moment he sat down post breakfast. And by noon, his physical therapist had arrived to continue his exercise routine and mobility work.

Despite the pain he would occasionally feel from the intense stretches he felt near his ankles, this was Nanami’s favorite part of his rehabilitation. Feeling the tightness dissipate as he stretched his neck and chest together. He closed his eyes, allowing the PT to guide his body on top of the exercise ball.

“Now a slow exhale as you reach your arms over your head. Nice and easy.”

The short man moved the ball under Nanami and he grunted.

“Sorry Mr. Nanami, too much?”

Nanami wheezed a chuckle out, “Not enough. Can we do this one more often?”

The therapist exhaled and smiled. “We can. Your body is reacting as it needs to and it seems to be the best exercise to get a reaction out of you. Does it feel like your body is loosening up?”

He nodded, slowly sitting up with assistance. “Definitely. My skin feels less taut at my hips and chest when I open up my arms like that. It feels.. good.”

“That’s what I like to hear. We’re going to finish off with some hands exercises then your aide will be tagged back in to finish the day off with you.”

His session proceeded and came to an end before he knew it. He walked with a bit more confidence as he escorted his therapist to the door and went to find you in the kitchen finishing lunch.

Nanami watched you sliced the cucumber. He nodded at the precision of the knife movements, impressed with how perfect each little sliced green disc was as you added it to the salad bowl. He waited to speak once you sat the knife down.

“You have some really great knife skills.”

You looked up and smiled, wiping your hand on the dish towel nearby. “4 years of cooking for a group of broke college students as a college student. 2 of those years were spent dating a sous chef who taught me some of what I know.”

“I’m sure this sous chef would be happy to know you use these techniques so well.”

“We could only hope,” Expertly, you avoided giving that a full response that would push the topic of your ex. “Where did you learn to cook, Mr. Nanami? I’m sure you are amazing with a Bosch in your kitchen.”

Nanami walked behind you, reaching for two bowls out of the cabinets and placed them next to you. “My grandfather wanted me to be self sufficient once I moved out on my own.” He slowly opened the silverware drawer, pulling out a pair of forks and knives. “And cooking in itself is its own therapy for me.”

You finished placing the grilled chicken in the salad bowl and handed over the tongs to Nanami. “How does cooking make you feel?”

He looked down at the tongs, his heart fluttering with an anxiety he couldn’t place. His eyes found you. “Do you think I can?”

“I’m right here,” you slid one of the eating bowls directly next to him and smiled. “What does cooking do for you?”

Nanami put his eyes back onto the salad and took a deep breath. He grabbed the tongs, gripping them, feeling the cold stainless steel rest in the part of his palm that still had feeling. “Cooking requires me to pay attention. Smell, sounds, how my food is looking.”

He widened the tongs, lowering them into the salad and tossing it lightly, as if he’d harm the lettuce if he placed any pressure.

“What do you usually cook with?” You noticed his hesitance in squeezing the tong tips together, his grip faltering as he exhaled from frustration. “I’m going to hover my hand below yours. Claw extension. Only if you need it.”

Nanami closed his eyes, slowly breathing out as he tried to not lose his momentum. “Garlic. Fresh minced garlic.” He tried again, slowly working his hands closed until he had salad gripped between the flat tips. He carefully moved it over to the dish, hand shaking but making it with no spillage. “I prefer to mince it and store it in water. Taste great every time.”

You smiled as he looked at you for a hint of validation and gave a nod of acknowledgment.

He moved the tongs back to the serving bowl with a glimmer of determination in the way he rolled his shoulders back. He grabbed more and placed it into the bowl, releasing a with a bit of force before sitting the tongs down. “I think I want a bit more tomato.”

Fork in hand, trying to pin down a slice of tomato so he could cut it. His right hand hovered awkwardly, meant to steady the cutting board, but his left — the one gripping the fork — trembled just enough to betray him.

The fork slipped.

The tomato skidded to the side, smearing juice across the surface. His jaw tightened, but he said nothing.

You didn’t speak either. You knew better than to rush in with help he hadn’t asked for yet.

He reset the slice, pressing the fork down again. His grip was too tight — his knuckles pale from the strain — but the tremor in his fingers wouldn’t let up. The fork scraped against the board, missing the tomato entirely this time.

A sharp pain ran through his forefinger and he dropped the fork, cursing under his breath as he massaged his purlicue.

His gaze stayed locked on the tomato, his shoulders tense.

“You did good. You and the tongs are quite the dynamic duo.”

Nanami felt a heated tear well in his eye before he sucked it back in. “This. Its all so hard sometimes. A fork? I can’t hold a damn fork and its been months.”

He needed to let the frustrations out. It was going to be the only way he could get over those hurdles to feeling whole again.

You stood in silence for a moment, giving him space to process and feel. “Don’t give yourself a timeline but do give yourself grace.”

“Is this all worth it?” You weren’t sure if he was talking to you or himself until he took a few steps back and leaned against the counter looking at you. “Will I be the same person I was before all this? Because I feel like even when I’m giving 200%, I’m failing with no progress.”

“This feels like it’s never going to get better,” Nanami said, his voice low — almost too calm, but there was an edge to it. A rare crack in the carefully composed man standing next to you.

The words hung between you both, heavier than the silence.

You gave him a moment before you spoke. “It’s frustrating,” you said softly. “I know.”

Nanami’s jaw shifted, his lips pressing into a firm line. He didn’t respond right away, as if letting the admission sit out in the open was already more than he was prepared for.

His hand flexed at his side — open, then closed — before, at last, he exhaled through his nose. “Can you help me?”

The question was quiet, but it felt like a victory in its own right.

You nodded, letting him take a few steps forward before stepping in slowly so he had the chance to pull back if he wanted. When he didn’t, you picked up the fork, steadying the tomato with your other hand. The prongs sank into the skin with a soft pop — a simple act, but weighted with everything unspoken.

Nanami’s hand hovered near yours for a moment, then dropped back to his side.

He didn’t thank you, but the small, almost imperceptible nod he gave was enough.

You didn’t push for more words. Instead, you handed him the knife, stepping back just far enough to let him reclaim some of the space —he had let you stand just a little closer, and it was a sign that he was willing to let you in to help.

#jujutsu kaisen #nanami kento #jjk #nanami x reader #jjk nanami #kento x reader #jjk kento #jujutsu kaisen nanami #shibuya arc #lu.logs

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nessbunnie · 5 months ago

Text

pro soccer player!rin x #1 rin fan!reader is such a fun concept !!

like on tiktok ur known as the itoshi rin girl. people tag u in rin edits & make edits dedicated to u ! 30 minutes after a pxg game ends ur seen on tiktok analyzing the entire match, people even ask u to analyze other teams or players ! u’ve posted countless tiktoks of you at actual pxg matches, cheering the loudest for rin.

but what no one knows is that rin’s biggest fan is also his girlfriend of 4 years !! rin can’t help but crack a smile when he sees ur newest tiktok fawning over him or ur reactions to edits of him ! people comment “petition to get this girl a meet and greet with rin 😭😭�� not knowing that he sleeps in your arms every night <3

it gets even cuter when u film a tiktok finally “meeting” rin for the first time after a game ! tho he’s sure ur reaction is a little bit exaggerated for the views, he still thinks its so adorable <3 you shake his hand excitedly, asking for a picture with him, recording the entire interaction.

he remains his usual calm self and agrees, putting on a small smile as the shutter goes off. u wave goodbye to him, yelling out a, “i love you!!” as u walk away. rin’s face gets hotter, though he doesn’t know if its because of u or the stuffy almost-autumn air.

the clip of rin blushing profusely after ur profession of love goes viral almost immediately ! u find urself smiling at ur phone as edit after edit with the same intro plays, rin’s red face probably burnt into the pixels of ur phone.

but after a couple days, the switch-up comes. some people start commenting on your tiktoks and edits with you in them that your “parasocial relationship” with rin is getting a little strange, and that maybe you should tone the obsession down. for every person defending u, the hate train only grows.

you complain about this to rin during breakfast, stating “how’s it a parasocial relationship if i’ve been dating you for years?” with sighs. rin says the obvious.

“just tell them that.”

you look at him with a mischevious glint in your eye. “should i actually?”

“go for it. i can take care of the PR stuff.” rin takes a bite out of his breakfast before continuing. “been wanting to call you mine for a while, too.”

you giggle. “aye aye, as you say captain!”

rin is called into your shared bedroom minutes later, a ringlight set up with your phone in the middle. “c’mere rinnie, wanna make a tiktok with you!” rin sits down beside you. you scroll through a couple of examples of the trend, showing them to rin. it’s mostly of couples; one person applying lipstick or lipgloss before smudging it and the other person with kisses on their face wiping it off.

it looks simple enough, so rin agrees.

you press kisses onto rin’s face, brushing his hair out of his eyes. “you always like when i kiss you, rinnie,” you remark.

rin hums in response, melting into your touch. you kiss him one last time on his cheek before finishing. “i’m gonna record now, ‘kay?”

k. by cigarettes after sex plays as you film yourself applying lipgloss before smudging it. rin reaches towards you and wipes it off as you pan the camera towards his lovesick gaze. you lean into him and kiss him a last time before you stop the recording.

you hand your phone to rin, showing him the end results. he approves of them, and you caption it with “🩷🩷🩷” before posting.

safe to say the 1.5 million likes proved your parasocial relationship wrong.

this was supposed to be a little blurb why is it 621 words long oml. and ik the k. trend is old as hell but it’s so cute i luv it ! the pacing is so terrible i’m crying um probably ooc i’m sorry guys i love soft rin !!!! reblog comment and follow for more bangers guys ily all <3

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satcrvz · 9 months ago

Text

LOVEFOOL!

— in which your boyfriend sneaks into your room and decides it’s a good idea to watch a horror movie.

SATORU GOJO X F!READER, readers love language is lowk physical touch, not proofread (are we shocked anymore)

thud.

you averted your gaze to the direction the sound game from, and behold, it was gojo. you began to question him. what could he possibly want at eleven at night?

"satoru? what are you doing here?!" you ask.

"you don't want me here?" he cries dramatically. you swore you’d never closed the space between the two of you that fast. your palm rose to cover his mouth.

you quickly reminded him, "quiet down! you know you're not supposed to be here." he gives a nod in affirmation to your words and you let go. you took a step back and started up the conversation again.

"so.." you began, "why are you here?"

he scoffs and makes his way to your bed. "well, you weren’t answering my texts." he says while falling back onto your bed.

you smile at him before making your way to situate yourself next to him. "you could’ve callled me."

he hums at your words, "yeah. guess i just wanted to see you." he props himself up on his elbows to look at you sitting next to him.

the sound of heavy rain followed by lightning and thunder catches your attention.

"damnit." you say as you get up to close the window.

he makes his way to you in an attempt to persuade you to stay, but his plan backfires. for the second time tonight, satoru gojo has fallen in your room.

this earned a laugh from you, which was probably louder than a 6'3" guy hitting your hardwood.

"baby, love of my life, what part of 'you aren't supposed to be here' didn’t click?"

"that one was an accident! i tripped over my slide! come help me up, please?"

you sighed and extended your hand towards him.

"you can stay, i'm not going to send you back into the storm."

"yes!" he says while pulling his elbow down with his hand in a fist. you laugh and roll your eyeballs at him.

the two of you were finally settled on your bed. the scene consisted of his back resting on the headboard with one of your plushies on his lap, while you scrolled through movies with him refusing any you suggested.

"babe! what do you want to watch then!? you’ve rejected like, the last 5 movies and said maybe to one of them."

he moves the plush in his lap to face you and puts on a high pitched voice, "turn on a horror film!"

"no way."

"pleaseee! it'll be good, i promise."

"and what do i get in return?" you ask.

"super hot boyfriend protecting you from the big bad monsters? i dunno."

you hand the remote to him and let him do his own thing. "you’re so cocky."

after scrolling through the horror selection, he finally lands on the conjuring 2. yeah you definitely weren’t going to sleep after this.

"move it buddy." he’s confused on what you're doing, but quickly catches on after he sees you removing the animal from his left hand and replacing it with your own.

the movie went by and around the 30 minute mark, you’d become startled by the man on the screen. you jumped but your face remained the same. you wouldn’t have said anything about it, but your boyfriend started lightly snickering.

"did you seriously jump?" he looks over to you.

"oh, shut up!" you raise your hand that was intertwined with his and gently slap the back of his hand.

toward the end of the movie, you started to drift asleep but managed to stay awake. gojo saw this as the perfect opportunity to mess with you. he put his hands on both sides of your stomach grabbed you as he said "boo!" in a hushed tone.

your eyes widened as you jumped, then quickly returned to normal to give him an unamused look.

"i hate you." you say.

"if you hated me, you would've sent me back home." he says.

"i hate that you're right." you say while draping yourself over him. " 'm gonna sleep now, you should too."

"i will once the movie finishes."

you hum in acknowledgement and began going to sleep. it didn’t take long for you to fall asleep, given that you were already tired.

"i love you." he says before shutting off the tv.

he knew he wasn't supposed to be there and the risk of your parents seeing him there, but he didn’t care. if it meant he got to spend time with you, then he’d take that risk.

#jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #✧; satcrvz writes!#satoru gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader

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dollfacefantasy · 9 months ago

Text

Room for One More

pairing: leon kennedy x fem!reader x chris redfield

summary: months ago, chris let his apprentice slip through his fingers when she transferred to the d.s.o. to work with leon kennedy. now the three of them have been sent on a mission together and are forced to share a hotel room.

cw: nsfw (18+), smut, threesome, p in v, oral sex (f and m recieving), face-sitting, exhibitionism, age gap (early 20s, late 30s), jealousy, light angst

word count: 9.2k

a/n: had this in my drafts since february let's go. hope you guys like it <3

You and Leon were so fucking annoying.

Irritating, aggravating, infuriating pains in his ass. That’s all Chris could think while speeding down the road, his knuckles white from their tight grip on the steering wheel. The three of you were all supposed to be professionals for god’s sake. He shouldn’t have to deal with the two of you acting no better than a couple of horny teenagers during a fucking mission.

It was constant. The giggling and gasping, soft whines of “Leon stoppppp.” And he could hear Leon’s stupid fucking smirk when he chuckled and kept doing whatever was causing you to squirm around with him in the back seat. If he had to sit through much more of this, he was pretty sure he’d end up plowing the car into a nearby tree and putting himself out of his misery.

Chris glanced in the rearview mirror. Darkness engulfed the car right now, making it hard to clearly see what his ‘partners’ were up to. All he could really make out was that Leon’s head had been in the crook of your neck but was now tilted upwards to capture you in a kiss. The only thing keeping him sane was the miniscule light in the distance. The small reminder that he wouldn’t be stuck in the car with the sounds of saliva swapping forever. He lets out a deep sigh and shakes his head, trying to will himself to just tune the aggravation out. But as the minutes pass by, each wet smack of lips grates on his nerves more and more.

“Can you two cut it out back there? I’m trying to focus,” he says. His harsh stare remains on the road ahead.

He hears your bodies briefly untangling as his words pierce the bubble you had created for yourselves. Leon is the first to respond.

“Our mistake, Redfield. Didn’t know it was such a challenge to go twenty-five miles an hour on an empty road,” he remarks. Again, Chris’s blood boils as he senses that self-satisfied expression taking over the other man’s features.

Your light slap to Leon’s bicep sounds through the car’s interior. “Sorry, Chris. We’ll keep it down,” you apologize.

In contrast to your boyfriend, your tone rings genuine. You sounded almost a little embarrassed by Chris calling out your antics. Your soft voice drifting to his ears actually softens him a tad. He knew the expression you wore now too. How your eyes were fixed on the DSO agent, giving him the glare you used when you wanted to seem firm. In reality, it came off as cute, like an angry kitten. And now Leon got to be the one to grin at you and shake his head, amused by your sweet face. He got to be in the position Chris let slip through his fingers months ago.

***

You’d been his first. Started out at the BSAA as his rookie. Your first day you’d been so bright-eyed, hopeful and ready to start out your career and face the world. He’d been reluctant to take on a trainee at first. It’s a lot of work with a 50/50 shot at reward, but the second he laid eyes on you, he knew the luck of the draw had worked in his favor.

You were the ideal apprentice. A great listener, eager to learn everything you could, and accepting of commands. Every day with you was a breeze. And besides the parts of you suited for your job, you were just generally pleasant to be around. He could joke with you, talk to you about damn near any subject. You were a great partner in the field too. At first, he’d been worried. A cute little thing like you taking on bioterrorists? He struggled to believe that would work out. As soon as he saw you in action though, you left no doubt that he’d been wrong. He became more taken with you upon seeing you act so capable. He realized that he felt a connection with you that he’d been lacking for so much of his life.

Unfortunately for him, he had these pesky things called ‘morals’ that prevented him from pursuing you. Every time he legitimately considered flirting or asking you out, the guilt gnawed at him, filling his mind with words of shame rather than anything that could charm you. No matter how he thought about it, he just couldn’t work out any way it would be right. Not only were you his subordinate, his rookie, you were nearly twenty years his junior too. You shouldn’t be wasting the prime of your life with some old man, so he cut off any hope of being more than a mentor to you.

About a year after he’d taken you on, the two of you were sent on that mission in Texas. It was simple, standard, routine. You and Chris were simply there to assist local police with the aftermath of a bioterror attack. Both of you were in the transport vehicle on the way to the site, and this was a rare occasion where he was pretty calm. He wasn’t tense or anxious, didn’t have any other motive than getting in and getting out. He was just enjoying the ride and watching your pretty face soak up the sunlight beaming through the window.

What he hadn’t been briefed on was the DSO’s involvement in the case. More specifically, a certain DSO agent’s presence. Apparently he’d been in the area on unrelated business and had been ordered to stop by in case your team needed assistance.

The two of you got out of the car and wandered through the remnants of the event. At first, Chris was happy to see him. It’d been a while, and he seemed to be in a better place than the last time they’d met. You seemed happy to see him too despite the fact that you’d never met before. Right then, Chris should’ve known it was over.

“Who’s that?” you asked with more interest than he felt was appropriate, leaning closer his muscular frame to keep your tone hushed.

He glanced down at you and raised his eyebrows, initially amused with the way you almost seemed in awe.

“Leon Kennedy. He’s with the DSO. Probably just here for some backup,” he informed you.

You nodded, and as you padded along behind Chris, your eyes remained locked on the agent in front of you. If he hadn’t been wrapped around your finger, it would have been obvious to him that you were developing a little crush. You became so bashful around Leon. Smiling up at him, batting your eyelashes like a cartoon character, following him around the scene like a puppy.

At the time, Chris thought that you were simply intrigued by the prestige of the DSO. Looking back, he couldn’t believe how clueless he’d been.

It was only six weeks later that you came to his office to notify him you were transferring agencies.

“What do you mean transferring? I’ve been training you to work here. I need you here,” Chris said.

Your eyes had cast down. Your body appeared to shrink in on itself. “I know. The BSAA is important and all, and I’ll always be grateful for what I learned here. It’s just that Leon said…”

And those last two words were all Chris heard.

“Leon said? What’s he know? He met you one time. He’s gonna try and tell you that you’re a better fit for the DSO?” he asked, probably coming off more interrogating than concerned, “You’re perfect for what we do here. The Agency hasn’t had someone with your propensity for research and field work in years.”

All his reasons paled in comparison to the hearts you had in your eyes for Leon. Chris ended the day by signing off on your transfer and watching you pack up your desk. You gave him a hug and tearful words of goodbye before walking out the translucent doors of the BSAA building.

The next time he saw you was another two months after that. He had to bring some files over to the DSO building. The only thing he was looking forward to about it was seeing how his rookie was adapting to her new position. He wasn’t prepared for the sharp pain in his chest when he saw your new position was on Leon’s lap.

Your eyes had gone wide. You shot up off the other man’s thighs to try and act as if you two were merely two agents and nothing more. Chris wasn’t fooled, but he kept his composure even in the face of Leon’s obvious amusement. He had no real place to get mad at you. It’s not like you were throwing your career away; you still held a respectable position at a federal government agency. You hadn’t betrayed him either. The relationship between you and him had actually just been professional. He had no claim on you that could keep Leon away. The only thing Chris had to be angry about was the fact that you were going to spend the prime of your life with some guy over a decade older than you. It just wasn’t gonna be him.

***

The collection of lights down the road were getting closer now. You and Leon had settled down enough to make the last fifteen minutes of this trip bearable. Chris glances around the small, misty town the road was leading into. It was pretty desolate and old-fashioned. Everything was tinted orange from the dated street lamps lining the road. Buildings were mostly bricks except for the upcoming motel which looked primarily wooden. It would’ve been eerie if he wasn’t so exhausted.

He pulled into the parking lot of the place and stopped the car. Turning around in his seat to talk to you and Leon, he tries not to roll his eyes at how the younger man has you tucked to his side while you show him something on your phone.

Chris clears his throat. Leon’s eyes meet his, still smug from the earlier exchange. He can’t be mad though because you look up at him in earnest, ready to do what needs to be done.

“The target isn’t going to be passing through until tomorrow. How would the two of you feel about staying here for the night?” he asks.

Fortunately, you and Leon seem to want to rest for a while just as much as he does so there’s no pushback.

Chris steps out of the car into the brisk air. He heads across the way into the small lobby of the motel to grab a room. You and your boyfriend handle getting the small bags you were allowed to take on missions out of the car.

“Cold out here, baby,” Leon mumbles as he pulls you flush against his chest and plants some kisses down your neck.

“Mhm. And you’re making me shiver more,” you say as you still try to collect the bags.

He chuckles at your little joke and nips at the warm flesh of your throat. “Once we get in the room, I think I’ll be able to heat you up,” he says.

You giggle and squirm a bit in his hold as Chris comes back to the car. He’s stone faced, but for once on this trip, it isn’t due to you and Leon.

“They only have one room available,” he says flatly and holds up the small golden key.

Your face drops and Leon lets go of you.

“What do you mean they only have one room?” he asks, “Look at this place. It doesn’t even look like anyone’s even accidentally wandered through here in this century. How could they only have one room?”

“They said the others are closed for renovation,” Chris relays.

“Renovation for what? For the ghosts of people who stayed here the last time this place was actually full?” Leon continues.

“I don’t know, man. You wanna go in there and argue with the lady at the desk? She’s half deaf and in a great mood, I’m sure she’ll be open to hearing your concerns,” the older man says sarcastically, beginning to grow frustrated.

Their bickering continues as you glance around at your surroundings. It was cold, it was dark, and it really was starting to creep you out how empty this place was.

You carefully take Leon’s hand and give it a little tug.

“I’m really tired. Can we just deal with it for the night?” you ask him hopefully.

He looks over at you, the petty complaints seeping from his body when he hears your soft voice requesting something so simple.

He sighs and nods. “Yeah, sweetheart,” he says and kisses your forehead.

Chris is grateful for your intervention and scoops up the bags so you aren’t bothered with them. The three of you walk in line to your room.

The door creaks as your ex-mentor pushes it open. It’s pitch black inside until Leon reaches over and taps the light switch. Your eyes scan the small room. It wasn’t a horrible set up. The furniture was a little vintage to put it nicely, but it didn’t feel haunted. Two double beds sat against one wall while a ratty leather chair occupied the opposite corner. Besides that there was a dresser, an old tv that was shaped like a cube, and a small counter with a microwave and mini-fridge. Leon looks around with the same disinterest displayed on your face.

“Hey, at least there isn’t only one bed,” he jokes and slaps Chris’s shoulder.

The older man rolls his eyes and tosses his duffel onto the mattress closest to the door. You and your boyfriend follow suit. You tuck your bag neatly against the side of the dresser while he drops it on the floor next to the farther bed.

“I’m gonna take a shower,” Chris tells the both of you as he fishes some fresh clothes and toiletries out of his bag.

He gets two unconcerned nods in response, and that’s enough for him to head to the bathroom. As he’s shutting the door, he can already hear your giggling starting up again along with the creak of the mattress, presumably from Leon pulling you down onto it.

Turning on the water, he sighs deeply. The faucet was as old as everything else in the room. It whooshed and groaned before starting up and letting out some water. The stream was hot and even, so he guessed he couldn't complain too much. He sheds his clothes and steps in the shower that was too small for him. The confined area didn’t act as much as a reprieve for him. His head is about three or four inches too tall for where the showerhead was angled. The slick curtain clings to the part of his bicep that stuck out against it.

It felt like a physical manifestation of how the next twelve hours would feel.

Being in the room next to you and Leon would’ve been bad enough. He’d have to hear you two going at it for hours like there was no tomorrow, but at least he’d be alone. He wouldn’t have to repress his grimaces or hide his wistful exhales. No one would have to know how shameful he looked when he felt himself getting hard over the way you whined and mewled for the other agent.

Now you two wouldn’t be going at it, but he’d have to be in the room clouded by both of your desires to do it. He’d have to watch the lingering looks and hear the little hitches in your breaths. He’d see whatever cute little pajamas wore and the way you curled up to Leon beneath the covers. He’d witness how peaceful your face looked while you slept in another man’s arms.

He’d honestly just prefer to be forced to listen to the sounds of your headboard banging against the wall all night.

But he pushes those thoughts away to finish up washing himself. His large hands guide the shampoo out of his hair and glide the washcloth over his muscular form. The steam starting to rise helps to calm him a little.

He isn’t in there for much longer before he shuts the water off and steps out of the shower to dry off. He wraps a towel around his waist, letting the cloth hang on hips just below his happy trail and v-line. His reflection gazes back at him through the fog on the mirror as he rubs a towel over his head and dries his hair.

In an effort to be considerate, he dresses in the bathroom. Gray sweats cover his lower half while a loose t-shirt adorns his chest. He makes sure everything in the bathroom is back in place before heading back out there, hopefully to just get some sleep and not be bothered by his temporary roommates.

That isn’t meant to be though. As soon as he steps back into the main portion of the room, he’s greeted by the sight of Leon’s hand down your shorts and your lips locked together in a flurry of kisses. He’s frozen in place for a moment, watching how Leon’s knuckles move underneath the fabric between your legs. Though a moment later, he remembers how he should be reacting.

“Come the fuck on,” he says and brings his hand to his face in frustration.

Your eyes widen, and your head snaps up. Leon lazily glances in his direction. Chris looks back at the pair of you, thinking you’d had enough time to readjust. What really enrages him now is that Leon’s hand was still where it was. You have to grab his wrist and pull it away.

“I’m so sorry, Chris,” you apologize without another thought, “We got distracted and didn’t hear the water shut off. I’m so-”

He doesn’t even look at you though. He’s locked in a stare with the other man in the room.

“Grow the fuck up, Leon,” he says, his tone deadly serious, “I’ve had enough of this shit. You’re acting like a fucking high schooler. Like a dog with a bone.”

You go silent and look down with guilt. He would’ve felt bad if he wasn’t so fed up. To make matters worse, Leon merely rolls his eyes.

“Jesus, calm down,” he says, “You’re acting like you just walked in on a porno or something. You’ve never seen two people making out?”

“Leon, shut up,” you say, keeping your voice hushed as if Chris couldn’t hear you from a small distance of ten feet. Your boyfriend doesn’t even acknowledge you though.

“That’s not what it’s about, and you know that. I don’t give a shit if the two of you want to make out till your lips are blue. Do it on your own time. I don’t wanna have to deal with the two of you slobbering all over each other while I’m trying to do my job,” he says with a glare.

“That’s not what this is about either, and you know it,” the younger man retorts.

“Leon, just give it up!” you plead. He shoots you a look though that makes you react like a scolded puppy.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Chris asks incredulously as he crosses his arms.

Your boyfriend almost laughs in his face. He sits up, looking at him with a more pointed gaze. “You don’t care about what I’m doing. You’re pissed off because I’m doing it with her,” he taunts.

Somehow the look on Chris’s face darkens further.

“Alright, man. I’m sure that’s what it is. It’s not you just being an insecure dickhead like always,” he says, trying to sound dismissive as he walks to his own bed, “You're more immature than I thought.”

“Don’t try to act like it’s bullshit because I know it’s the truth. All the years I’ve known you, all the missions we’ve partnered on; this isn’t the first time you’ve seen me with a girl but you’ve never pitched a fit about it before,” Leon says.

Chris shakes his head, not dignifying the accusations with a response, but he won’t give it up.

“Also, you think I’m fucking stupid? You think I don’t see the way you’re looking at her? Undressing her with your eyes, laser focused every time she bends over? I think if she gave you the go ahead, you wouldn’t even hesitate to steal her away from me,” he says.

You notice as they argue that in contrast to the genuine aggravation on Chris’s face, Leon’s words come from somewhere else. Almost as if he’s enjoying calling him a liar, poking and prodding at the other man to provoke a reaction.

Chris looks directly at him now as if he’s ready to lunge in a moment’s notice.

“Shut your mouth. You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he says.

“Tell me then. Tell me how it is.”

That makes the older man pause. Of course Leon was right, but under no circumstances would he make that apparent.

“She had a bright future ahead of her, and look what you’ve done. She’s the best either one of the agencies has had in years, and you keep her in the palm of your hand like she’s a barbie doll!” he exclaims.

He sees the flicker of hurt on your face and knows he fucked up, but he could apologize later. He continues speaking to try and temporarily rectify his slip up.

“She’s too good for you, Leon,” he says simply, sighing and sitting down on his bed.

You see genuine emotion flash in your boyfriend's eyes. Chris struck a chord, picking at a very real insecurity Leon held. But he wanted to win this confrontation too, so he wouldn’t let that be known. Instead, he beckons you to him with a languid wave of his hand.

“C’mere, baby.”

Chris rolls his eyes, thinking Leon was gonna swoop in to comfort you for the way your feelings had been hurt. You waddle across the mattress on your knees and plop down between his legs, your back against his chest. His hands sweep over your stomach, soothingly caressing your skin.

“She might be too good for me, but you’re pissed off because she’s too good for you too,” he says.

“Leon, stop,” you whisper. Tomorrow was going to be awkward enough as is. He didn’t need to make it any worse.

Chris glances up at the two of you but looks down again quickly, not wanting to see the way the other man’s hands moved on your body.

“You think I’m the bad guy. That I’m corrupting your innocent little rookie,” Leon mocks, “But tell me you wouldn’t take my place if you could.”

“I wouldn’t,” he mumbles instantaneously.

“Look me in the eyes and tell me. Tell me that if she was actually interested in you, that you wouldn’t have taken her in your arms as fast as you could. When she was prancing around the BSAA, looking up at you with stars in her eyes, tell me you didn’t want her,” your boyfriend challenges.

Chris looks up at the both of you. His expression is hard to read. It’s some mixture of hurt and relief that you’re unfamiliar with.

“I didn’t,” he maintains.

Leon’s hand continues trailing on your tummy up and down. His fingers coast in between your breasts, causing you to shiver, but everyone’s so wrapped up in the conflict that you choose not to say anything.

“That’s a shame because I’m pretty sure your little rookie had a crush on you,” he says quietly.

“Don’t joke around like that Leon,” Chris scoffs at the same time as your eyes widen and you start to tell your boyfriend to be quiet.

“Shh shh shh,” he hushes you and places a small kiss on your temple, “You’re giving yourself away, sweetheart.”

You look down and the man across from you just looks confused. Leon smirks at the both of you before resuming.

“C’mon man. Don’t tell me you couldn’t see it. She’s a terrible liar, and I think she had it pretty bad for you. I just came along and pulled her attention elsewhere,” he says, teasing you while redirecting his words to Chris.

Your face was heating up fast as Leon aired out a confession you’d made to him on a night after too many drinks. Chris slowly returned his gaze back to the two of you. Instead of bothering with Leon, he looked into your eyes this time.

“Is that true?” he asks.

Every limb on your body feels frozen up, but you manage to force your head into nodding. You hear Leon chuckle from behind you, which only intensifies how awkward you feel.

“I liked you at first when I first started working at the BSAA. For the first few months,” you begin to explain. It’s not like anything you said would help the situation at all, but it still felt like you were supposed to offer something.

He continues staring at you, and you honestly can’t tell what’s running through his mind. All you can think is that he looks like he’s in pain. Meanwhile, your boyfriend’s hands caress over your skin in a pattern they’d developed.

“You were just so nice and understanding with me-” you start. But you’re cut off by your sharp gasp when Leon’s hand slides under the waistband of your bottoms and into your panties.

“Leon!” you whimper as fast as his fingers find your clit. You grab his wrist and try to pull it away like you’d done earlier, but when he didn’t want to be interrupted, he wouldn’t be. It wasn’t like you tried too hard anyways. You were still a little pent up from earlier, craving the pleasure that had been cut short.

“No, go on, sweetheart. Keep telling Chris how much you liked him. I know he wants to hear it,” he says lowly while his fingers toy with you.

“Leon,” Chris says firmly, trying to stand up for you. But fuck, if he didn’t want to keep watching your breath hitch and your hips squirm. Or your face getting pouty whenever his fingers stroked a certain way.

“Chris,” he says back, “Don’t act like you don’t wanna see. This might be your only chance.”

He smirks and kisses your temple again, rotating the pad of his middle finger over your clit. The motions draw little whines from you, and your eyes flutter. You keep them on Chris, looking into his own as you sink back into Leon’s chest.

“Go ahead, honey. Continue your story,” Leon prompts.

“You were so sweet- mm- and you taught me a lot and- ah- I don’t know it was just a little crush,” you say timidly.

Chris watches you. He doesn’t move at all for fear of bringing attention to how fast his cock has hardened.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he breathes.

“Cause you were my boss,” you say, “I- Leon fuck- I didn’t wanna put you in a bad position.”

His chest feels like it’s turned to stone as he takes in these revelations. It’s hard not to let the regret take over. The realization that he’d been much closer to everything he’d wanted threatened to consume him if he dwelled on it. That on top of the fact that he was hearing all this while you whimpered another man’s name between your words had his mind scrambled.

“It wouldn’t have put me in a bad position, sweetheart,” he says, attempting to sound normal about the situation.

Your lips curve further down, as if you feel guilty for the mess of emotions building inside him. Behind you, Leon’s mouth makes the opposite expression.

“What happened to not wanting her, Redfield?” he teases.

“Shut up,” Chris says. Even if he wasn’t the one pleasuring you, this was a moment for you and him.

His eyes are locked on you, trying to drink in everything about the vision of beauty in front of him. Leon’s warning that this could be the only time he gets to see it echoes in his mind. He doesn’t know how he’ll survive if this is the only time. He doesn’t think he could ever get enough of this. The way your lashes flutter and your eyes look dreamy. How your soft thighs tremble while spread open. The little movements of your hips rocking your ass back and forth against the man behind you.

Why couldn’t that man be him?

It was the most blissful form of torture he’d experienced. He tried to tell himself that even if he just got to watch you cum, it’d be worth it. It’d be better to share this unforgettable sliver of time with you than to have nothing special at all.

He tries to refocus himself back on enjoying the view of your shorts sliding off your legs rather than mourn the relationship he’d lost out on. It was just nearly impossible to avoid envisioning himself and the other man swapped. He had imagined you in his lap like that for months before you even knew the name Leon Kennedy.

Chris’s mind is actually drawn back to the action in front of him once Leon’s got your shorts off, and your panties are fully exposed. The crotch is soaked through. He can see the way the fabric sticks to your center, only peeling away to make space for the nimble fingers working beneath it.

“Leon…” you mewl and tilt your head back against his shoulder.

“I know, princess,” he murmurs, “You’re doing such a good job showing off for Chris. I’m proud of you. You’re really making it worth his while.”

“Thank you,” you whimper.

Leon grins at your display of submission and rewards you with a gentle pinch to your clit. You yelp, and Chris’s cock jerks inside his pants. His bulge is completely visible to everyone in the room by now, no way of sitting could hide that. Despite his arousal, he still had questions.

“Am I the reason you left?” he decides to ask you.

He watches you snap out of the throes of lust and look at him. You hesitate before answering.

“No,” you say softly, “I left to be with Leon.”

It feels like a dagger straight to his heart. He watches any chance of salvaging you as his own die before his very eyes, those words acting as the nails in the coffin. It shows on his face too because he can see the guilt replacing the desire in your eyes. Even Leon’s face flashes with some sympathy. He tilts his head towards you again and nips at the shell of your ear.

“I think you might have hurt Chris’s feelings, baby,” he chides lovingly. His hand then leaves your panties and goes with his other one to your waist. Boosting you to your feet, he looks up at you and taps your ass. “Maybe you should help him feel better. Show him some of what I taught you.”

There’s only a brief pause on your part. You stand between the two beds, between the two men, looking back and forth. You weren’t against the idea at all, it just didn’t seem real. You never imagined this happening in your wildest dreams.

You drop to your knees and approach Chris from the ground, positioning yourself between his legs and looking up at him.

“You don’t have to,” he says, his tone quiet and genuine.

You reach up, sliding your hand up his thigh to palm at his bulge.

“I know,” you respond.

In the simplest of terms, you were still very much attracted to Chris. Your relationship with Leon had extinguished the torch you carried for him down to a small flame, but on a physical and instinctual level, you still wanted him bad. Especially having not cum yet after being teased twice. Your fingers unzip his pants and begin pulling them down, eager to get his cock out.

In a way, you were pretty sure you loved him. Not in the way you love Leon. You knew that. You didn’t dream of love and marriage and the baby carriage with Chris. But for so long, he’d been your safe space. Amongst the violence and horrors in the world of Bioterrorism, your mentor had always been there for you to hold your hand.

You yank his pants down to his ankles, and his dick flops out against his thigh. Your eyes widen slightly. It made sense for it to be big just like everything else on him was, but the sight had you drooling. It was thick and long, from one look you could only imagine how it would stretch you out.

Your fingers wrap around the length, feeling its warmth. The veins that sprawl across it pulse with desire for you. He moans quietly with only one stroke. Your hand pumps up and down tentatively as you spit down onto it for some lubrication.

No one in the room is in the mood to be teased tonight, so you lean in and flick your tongue against the tip. Another groan bubbles from Chris’s lips and you can feel Leon’s lecherous gaze on you the entire time. You lap at the head some more and keep working your fist up and down.

You’re either very talented or Chris is very needy for you, because it only takes a handful of gentle licks before precum beads at the top. His eyes are blown out and locked on you as you suckle the swollen tip between your lips and bob your head. Your mouth is the perfect combination of warm and wet and soft. You cup his balls and give them a gentle massage while working your magic.

He reaches down and pets your head as you work. His head snaps up when he hears the other man speak to him.

“How’s it feel? As good as you imagined?” he asks.

“Better,” Chris moans.

His breaths enter and exit his lungs in deep puffs. This truly was better than he could’ve imagined. Everything about you was beyond the capabilities of human imagination. Your gags were so soft and tender. They were precious despite their inherent lewd nature. You looked up at him with glossy eyes, maintaining eye contact most of the time. That was something he’d taught you. Your first days of work you were always looking down at your shoes or right through him at the wall. He’d been the one to tell you eye contact was important. It was the most baseline form of connection.

You take your mouth off Chris’s shaft with a small pop. A string of saliva dangles between you and his cock, but you quickly destroy it when your lips smoosh against the flushed skin. You kiss the tip over and over, savoring the taste of precum it brings.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, not caring if he heard or not.

But he does, and his gaze softens. “You don’t have anything to be sorry for, rookie,” he says back.

Leon decides not to interrupt the exchange or tease Chris about the old nickname for you. He had no genuine ill will toward the other man. That plus his own cock was rising to attention, and he was more interested in palming it through his jeans.

“You're such a good girl. You don’t need to apologize for anything,” Chris continues to coo at you as you take his length back into your mouth.

His eyes crinkle as they shut. He doesn’t want to cum yet just in case there was the chance for anything more. You’re too taken with servicing him to notice that you should maybe slow down. Lucky for the both of you, Leon intervenes.

“Ah ah, baby. Don’t take Chris out of the fun too quick,” he tuts, reaching forward to guide your head back.

You pull off obediently and lean back onto your knees. Chris sighs at the reprieve but nearly blows his load when his eyes refocus on you gazing up at him with spit and precum on your lips.

“I think Chris needs a break, angel. You know how good that mouth of yours is,” he says and pets your head before looking up to the older man, “You want a little taste of her while you cool off?”

It’s like time slows to a halt in the world of Chris Redfield. The heavens part and the words he just heard are the gateway to paradise. He stares at Leon, almost in the same disbelief you had been in minutes ago.

“You’re cool with that?” he says, trying to seem casual.

“I wouldn’t have offered if I wasn’t,” he says and shrugs, “Plus, I think your rookie deserves a treat for her performance.”

“Of course she does. She’s probably feeling pretty needy by now too,” Chris says in return, beginning to feel more comfortable with the situation at hand.

“I’ll even let you pick, man. You want her spread out on the bed or riding your face?” he asks.

You look between the both of them as they speak before stopping on Chris as he makes the decision.

“Riding my face. Want her to smother me,” the older man says as he looks down at you with his familiar smile.

Leon glances down at you too. “You heard him, baby,” he says.

You return to your feet and approach the bed closer to the window. Chris discards his pants completely and removes his shirt before lying back. He pats his chest, signaling for you to climb up. As you move closer, so does your boyfriend. He rounds the bed and sits on the other side of the mattress to watch the pair of you.

You crawl over Chris’s muscular body, looking down at him for a moment when your faces are level. You then scoot up more so you’re basically sitting on his chest. You weren’t shy about sitting on someone’s face necessarily. You’d done it for Leon about a dozen times before, but Chris was new and you didn’t know how he liked to do it. From the way he guided your hips higher up though, you could already tell he was a little more gentle than your boyfriend.

He pulls you up until your pussy is hovering over his face. Then he takes a few moments to just admire it. It was cute just like every other part of you. One of his fingers drags over your flesh and pulls on the puffy folds, showing off your pretty little clit and slick entrance.

“Don’t hold back for me, rookie. I want to taste all of you,” he says as he looks up at you.

You return his look and nod before he pulls you lower by your hips onto his face. A squeak flies from your lips when his tongue makes contact with your cunt. Leon chuckles as he watches the two of you with lustful eyes. He’s working on undressing himself now.

Chris’s tongue takes a long swipe from the bottom to the top of your pussy, taking in as much of you as he can. Right now you’re all he can smell. Every breath brings him more of you. Your taste overwhelms him too. It’s the way he wants to live. You whine as his lips engulf your clit to suck on.

“Already making such pretty noises,” Leon teases, “Is Chris doing it how you like, sweet girl?”

You nod, your eyes connecting with those of your boyfriend’s for a moment. He kneels on the bed to be closer to you. His hand comes up to stroke your cheek.

“Good. You deserve it, baby. Just look at you. So precious. No wonder he’s crazy about you too,” Leon murmurs as he leans in and kisses you deeply.

His lips move with yours as you moan into his mouth. You begin rocking your hips back and forth on Chris’s face to get more of the stimulation he’s providing you with. His tongue flattens over your cunt and presses against it in stripes, making broad strokes that spark euphoria in your belly each time. His hands lock onto your hips to keep you still enough that you’re not interrupting his devouring of you.

The constant pleasure to your core makes you lightheaded. You would be swaying if not for the two men’s combined efforts to keep you up right. Your kisses become sloppier, and to alleviate it, Leon ducks down to kiss your neck instead. He peppers your skin with hickeys, his possessive nature shining through a bit.

“My pretty girl, doing so good for us right now. Taking it like a pro,” he whispers teasingly as his hands cup your breasts and give them a tender squeeze.

His lips travel down to where his hands are. He plants a few kisses on the swell of your chest. The sight of your nipples perking up for him would never get old.

“Sweet baby, everything about you is perfect. Don’t know how Chris resisted and never got a taste,” he says as he sucks one of your nipples into his mouth.

Your head falls back and you shudder. Two mouths on you, both licking and sucking in harmony. It made you moan loud enough that you would’ve certainly got a noise complaint if any of the other rooms were occupied.

“Is that for me or Chris, babydoll?” Leon asks and smirks up at you.

“Both,” you whimper, “Both of you are making me feel so good.”

“Not picking favorites, hm?” he goads you further.

“Can’t think enough to pick one right now,” you say simply before another whine leaves you. You didn’t want any more drama. At least not before you came.

“Oh, is your head getting all foggy, baby?” he coos.

“Mhm,” you whimper and nod.

On your lower half, Chris keeps his mouth firmly attached to your pussy. He’s pretty sure you already have him addicted, and you haven’t even cum yet. He’s licking with all the dedication in the world as if this task was his life’s purpose, the action he was put on this very earth to complete.

“Tastes so fucking good,” he grunts into you as he continues open mouth kissing your cunt, “Prettiest little pussy I’ve ever seen.”

Leon smiles at the compliment, almost as if it was partially intended for him by virtue of being your boyfriend.

“She’s loving you, Chris. You’ve got her brain melting out her ears,” Leon purrs while rubbing your back soothingly, steadying you from the tremors that rack your body, “Pretty baby’s probably gonna cum all over your face soon.

When he hears that, the man below you pulls your hips down even harder and locks you onto his mouth. He works even harder to please you, relishing in the way your noises grow louder and more strained.

You give Leon puppy eyes as your hand darts out for his. Your fingers squeeze his palm so tight, he’s sure there will be little red crescents on the skin when you let go.

“What is it, sweetheart? You need to hold my hand?” he croons. He gently squeezes your hand back and moves his face to your neck to press a few more kisses there. “I’ve got you, baby. You cum whenever you want, I’m not gonna let go. Show Chris how pretty you are when you cum.”

Your teeth dig into your lip and your hips quiver violently.

“Fuck Leon- I just- I- Chris,” you stutter out. Your brain rushes to latch onto something, but it can’t seem to get a lock on anything.

“Don’t gotta say anything, angel. Just cum all over my face,” Chris commands from between your thighs.

“You heard him, baby. No thinking. Just let yourself feel good. That’s what we both wanna see,” he whispers and brings your hand to his lips.

Your lips part to say something, but you decide to just listen. You grind your hips down against Chris’s mouth, gasping as the euphoria paramounts within you. Your hips roll even faster as you feel release within your grasp. You’re closing in on it when you shriek and nearly double over with the shattering feeling of your peak.

“There we go, that’s it,” Leon chuckles softly, “Show him what I get to see every night. My favorite sight in the whole world.”

Your body moves as if it’s possessed when you cum. Your back arches into a curve with supernatural speed. Your eyes are screwed shut while your mouth is wide open. The younger man next to you grins while the older man below you continues to make out with your pussy, lapping up every drop of you that he could.

When you start to come down, he lets up, knowing Leon had more in store from you. He lets your hips go, and you basically topple over onto the mattress. You inhale and exhale deeply as the cool motel sheets rest against your cheek.

Chris’s eyes are hooded from lust, the effects of the most erotic experience in his life lingering. His cock is fully hard, standing up and aching for more of your touch. Yet in a way he’s satisfied, having just made you cum, tasted the sweetest part of you, and heard your most vulnerable sounds.

Leon’s undressed on the bed, the only one of the three of you whose mind didn’t feel hazy with clouds of desire. He tugs on his stiff cock a few times as he decides what to do. His eyes flit between your crumpled up form and the other man lying on his back.

“Chris, you wanna hold her for a little bit? Have her sit in your lap?” he asks.

The older man almost felt pathetic at how eager he was to play along and say yes. Almost. Because he still does that. He nods and sits up, leaning back against the headboard.

The next move is getting you up. Your boyfriend guides you to where Chris is, and he then helps you into his lap. Your mind was coming back to normal, and you were looking up at Leon with adoration while you melted against Chris’s broad chest. You nuzzle it gently, feeling its warmth and plush quality. His thick arms encase you, making sure you feel secure.

Leon pulls you on your hips to get you a bit lower where he has easier access.

“I’m not gonna let you fuck her this time. I wanna show you how it’s done first,” Leon teases as he slots himself between your legs.

In any other instance, this would’ve pissed Chris off. Everything about it would’ve left him disappointed and annoyed. But now any negative emotion is overshadowed by two words.

This time.

Because this time implies there will be a next time. And maybe even a time after next time. Another time for him to feel his cock inside you. Another time for him to make you cum on his fingers or watch you ride him. Some of his hopes spring back to life.

Internally, his heart is soaring. He kisses your hairline carefully as Leon slides his tip between your folds that are sticky with arousal. He teases himself with the feeling only a few times before nudging the tip inside.

Your head falls back against Chris’s chest and you moan. He kisses your temple and caresses your sides as if you need to be soothed. As if this isn’t the dick you’ve been taking nightly for the last few months.

Chris’s own length is rock solid against your back. Every small change in your facial expression or rise in pitch of your voice sends blood rushing to it, the threat of cumming untouched ever present.

Leon steadily pushes in until he’s buried all the way inside and you’re nice and filled to the hilt.

“So fucking tight. You gotta feel it, Chris. You thought she tasted good? Just wait till you feel her,” he grunts.

“I bet. I could tell from how cute her pussy was. She was clenching around nothing the whole time. I’m sure she loves to squeeze down anytime she’s got a cock in her,” Chris whispers

More hope was rising in him that this wouldn’t be a one night only thing, and it took all his strength not to smile like an idiot. His knuckles move down your cheek lovingly as he speaks to you and holds you while Leon thrusts. Your body rocks gently with the momentum, pushing you against Chris’s cock each time.

“She does love to get all tight. Just wants to suck me in so I can never leave,” Leon says and holds your thighs to start thrusting harder.

“Such a needy girl. I should’ve known, rookie,” Chris murmurs to you.

“It just feels so good,” you whine, “It’s not my fault.”

“Oh I know it’s not, precious,” Leon mocks, “Your head is always full of nothing but air when I’m around. It probably just gets worse with Chris here.”

You whine in protest and squirm a little, unknowingly grinding your ass on Chris’s cock and coaxing a moan from him. Leon’s dick hits deeper too, bringing you heightened pleasure.

“You’re not an airhead, baby. You’re a sweet girl. My rookie. You just wanna feel good, hm?” Chris says teasingly.

You nod along, and from the look on his face, Leon is amused, pleased with the dynamic Chris opened up.

“No one said she isn’t sweet. Just that she goes a little dumb as soon as she’s got my dick in her,” he teases.

He sighs and his eyes roll back for a moment as you clamp around you. He keeps rocking in and out, enjoying the wet sounds coming from each one of his movements. He also can’t get enough of your mewls or the way you're clutching one of Chris’s forearms right now.

“Maybe he’s right about that. You just work so hard all the time. You need something that can calm you down,” Chris says and squeezes his arms around you, “You’re still so precious.”

You look up at Chris with lovey dovey eyes, remembering why you’d been so enamored with him in the first place. He talked to you like you were the sweetest thing to walk this earth and made you believe it. He made you feel cared for in a way that was indescribable. Pure feeling.

“Yeah you are,” Leon grunts, “And you can go as dumb as you want right now, baby. We’re both here taking care of you. I’m sure Chris loves holding you while all you can do is whine for more.”

“That’s right. I love seeing you like this, knowing you’re taken care of,” he whispers, “And you know I’ve always got you. I’ll never let my rookie go.”

All the words are overwhelming. You pant and writhe more in Chris’s grasp.

“You getting close again, babydoll?” Leon asks, knowing your tells.

You whimper and nod quickly.

“Good. I am too,” he grunts.

He starts working himself into you harder. The momentum from each snap of his hips keeps you rubbing against Chris’s shaft and working him closer to the edge as well. All three of you are panting, muscles tensing up in some way as the end approaches.

You stare into Leon’s eyes for a moment before rotating your head and looking up at Chris. Both sets of eyes are fixated on you. The overflow of attention is the final strike your body needs to start convulsing with release. The older man’s arms tighten around you, keeping you close as your skin heats up and your noises grow whinier. Your boyfriend keeps a steel grip on your hips, his fingers stroking back and forth.

“That’s my girl,” Leon grunts, “Let it out, baby.”

He moans and lets his head fall back as he feels himself hurtling towards the finish line.

“My rookie. Just perfect, honey,” Chris whispers, “I’m so proud of you.”

The words nearly triple your pleasure and you continue to ride out the high as Leon finally cums and shoots it inside you. He nearly growls as he pounds into you, completely emptying himself. All the rutting is enough for Chris to cum too. He spurts his hot seed against the small of your back, holding onto you with all he has as his hips jerk upwards and he imagines it’s him buried inside you.

Leon’s the first to get his bearings back. He pulls out slowly, letting you adjust to the feeling of emptiness. He then rolls to the side of you and Chris, watching the final moments with the other man. You lie on his chest with your eyes drooping, your chest heaving as you catch your breath. His hand lazily runs down your side. He savors your warmth on his chest. Almost subconsciously, it feels like you really are his in this moment.

That is until you regain your composure and sit up. You hop up for a moment to clean off the mess on your back. He knew you’d have to, but the sight still makes Chris’s heart ache.

As you return to the bed, you give your boyfriend a dizzy smile and crawl over to curl up at his side. He rubs your back and pecks your forehead. For the two of you, it’s like a regular night. Chris isn’t sure where he fits in this anymore. Should he just move to the bed you two had claimed earlier? Should he make the two of you get up?

He’s running through solutions in his mind when your hand comes out and grabs his wrist. You’re looking up at him with some sort of longing in your eyes.

“Stay with us,” you say.

It was softer than he ever heard from you, different from when you introduced yourself on your first day of work or made a mistake on a mission. It was a new kind of shyness that just made him want more from you. He stares at you and contemplates the idea. Leon raises his eyebrows and gives him a look, giving him the silent ok he needed to slowly lower himself to the mattress.

He shuts off the light first, leaving the motel room in darkness except for the glow of the yellow street lamps shining through the window. His head hits the pillow, and he drapes an arm over you. You’re still leaning into Leon for the most part which he makes no move to interfere with.

The three of you don’t say anything for the rest of the night. Silence permeates the atmosphere of your shared space. The events of the last hour run through each of your minds in different ways. The mission had taken a back seat for now. It could return to prominence tomorrow once the mental dust had settled.

Leon’s eyes flutter shut first, and his deep, even breaths of sleep follow. You’re barely awake with your cheek squished against his pectoral muscle. Chris watches you, the outline of your face illuminated from the faint light outside. He wonders if this really will be the only time with you. If his taste of heaven will remain that, a sample of what he could have had. He chooses to not believe that and drive himself crazy.

He shuts his eyes too and brings his face to nestle against the crook of your neck. His breath hits your neck when he sighs. In the abyss that is the motel room, he feels your hands come up to rest on his arm.

#leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x y/n #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy imagine #resident evil x reader #resident evil imagines #resident evil smut #resident evil x you #chris redfield x reader #chris redfield x y/n #chris redfield x you #chris redfield imagine #chris redfield smut #ch: leon kennedy 💌#ch: chris redfield 💌

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nereidprinc3ss · 10 months ago

Note

Happy 2k babe! I have a request for fluffy Spencer smut based on the song "touch tank" by Quinnie! (the song gives me like golden retriever vibes so maybe you could put something about reader playing with his hair in there? I don't know I'm having later seasons fluffy hair Spencer brainrot and I never make requests, obviously feel free to ignore or change things if this is too specific! <3)

hi angel babe!!! i love this song!! and i too am always having later seasons fluffy haired spencer brainrot!! i wrote this super quick, please let me know if its any good, ILY!!! xo

warnings/tags: fem!reader, softdom!spence, sub reader, fingering, oral f receiving, sorta kinda overstimulation, implicit consent, praise n stuff, not proofread, written at 9 pm on a tuesday night, so fluffy

18+ (smut)

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Spencer is clearly almost asleep on the couch next to you. That’s one of many things you find endlessly fascinating and charming about him—his ability to fall asleep anywhere at any time within minutes.

So you probably shouldn’t speak. But the stakes are low; it’s barely 7:30 in the evening.

“Spence?” You whisper. His eyes don’t open, but his thumb goes back to making little passes where it’s settled over your hip.

“Hm?”

“Don’t fall asleep.”

He smiles, slight but beautiful—yet his eyes remain stubbornly closed.

“Why not?”

“’Cause I want you to be awake.”

“Then you can’t keep playing with my hair like that.”

You pout as if he can see you.

“But I like playing with your hair.”

Spencer hums, and you can tell you’re losing him again as you continue carding your hand through stupidly soft locks.

“One or the other. You can’t have both.”

“I love you both, though,” you complain. “I don’t know who to pick.”

The grin has been steadily fading from his relaxed face but it flickers back to life for a moment.

“I’m getting a haircut tomorrow. That should make it easier for you.”

“What?”

It’s the genuine horror in your voice that finally gets him to open his eyes. A little line appears between his brows as he regards you with bleary eyes.

“What what?”

“You didn’t consult me!”

The momentarily tensed muscles in his face relax and he rolls his eyes affectionately before craning his neck to kiss your forehead.

“I’m not in the habit of requesting your approval before I make choices like that.”

“Spencer, please don’t cut your hair,” you beg, genuinely distraught. “You can’t. It’s so so pretty.”

“It’s too long, baby. I don’t want to grow it out again.”

“You don’t have to grow it out! Just don’t get it any shorter! It’s perfect how it is,” you insist. Spencer narrows his eyes as you plead with him. But you stand firm in your position. His hair is sort of shaggy, sure—too long to be considered cropped and too short to be considered long. It’s like a beautiful curly halo and it’s perfect playing-with length. “I’m serious. I’m asking you to not cut it short, please. This is what I want for my birthday.”

“Your birthday’s not even—”

“Pretty please with a cherry on top? I love your hair so much and I love you more but I just really don’t want you to cut it, please—”

He’s laughing when he silences you with a soft kiss, and you melt, sighing against him as his hand slides up and down the back of your thigh. When he knows you’ve been sufficiently soothed, he pulls away, still smiling.

“Oh my god, baby—are you about to cry?”

“Stop!” you whine, burying your face into a throw pillow and screwing your eyes shut. Your nose crinkles up with embarrassment. “Don’t laugh at me.”

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs, and though he’s no longer outright laughing, traces of humor still color his lowered voice as he kisses all over the side of your face. “I had no idea you felt that way. I didn’t realize I’d be causing you so much emotional distress if I cut my hair.”

You sniffle away any unfortunate emotional reactions and turn your head back to him. He’s ducked down slightly, still peppering kisses over your jaw and neck, and you lace your fingers through the contentious hair.

“Obviously I’m not the boss of you. If it makes you uncomfortable I want you to cut it. But I really like it how it is.”

He hums against your throat and the vibrations send a chill down your spine. You arch against him unconsciously.

“You are definitely the boss of me. I don’t know anyone else who I like receiving orders from so much.”

“Hotch,” you whisper, and you can feel Spencer’s teeth against your neck as he smiles and presses another loving kiss to the sensitive spot above your collarbone.

“Not the kind of orders I was talking about. And I don’t particularly care what Hotch thinks of my hair, honey.” He kisses tenderly until he earns a tiny whimper from you—which sates him enough to raise his head until you’re eye-level again. His hand, however, has other plans—it creeps south, slipping under the waistband of your pajama pants. “What if we compromise? I just get it trimmed so it doesn’t keep getting in my eyes when I have a loaded gun in my hands, yeah?” You nod dutifully, looping your arms around his neck as his fingers dip beneath your underwear. When you don’t reply verbally, he prompts meaningfully, “okay?”

“Okay,” you whisper, voice small as you look into his searching eyes.

For a few moments, when he finally pushes his fingers against your clit and begins rubbing with slow, gentle strokes, his eyes are everywhere on your face—then they focus back on your eyes, watching with that habitually intense interest permeated with a sense of devotion—like he wants to see exactly what pleasure looks like reflected in your irises. Like he could see through them to your brain and watch your dopamine transmitters working overtime. A soft moan escapes through parted lips, which seems to spur Spencer on. He drags more arousal over your aching bud and openly chuckles at your airy sigh of pleasure, unable to resist from giving you a short kiss.

“Feels good?”

“Mhm,” you breathe.

“Mhm,” he agrees, kissing you again just as quickly before pulling back to study your face once more. “Pretty girl.”

“You’re pretty,” you insist, with what little brain power is available to you as you rake one hand through his hair. He smiles, eyes pinging between your own and your mouth like he can’t decide where to look.

“I’m pretty?” he asks, speaking over another quiet, yet unabashed moan. You nod, hips bucking slightly off the couch cushion as he speed up the motion of his hand. The grin widens and his soft amber eyes soften further. “You’re so sweet.”

You give him a moan he can’t ignore and he takes it as a signal to slip two fingers into you, sighing in what sounds like relief just as your breath catches. The way he seems to feel your pleasure will never get less erotic. Once he’d explained it—something to do with mirror neurons—but whatever the reason, watching the way his arousal rises with yours is exhilarating.

A squeaking sound is expelled from your lungs and your whole body tenses, propelling you maybe an inch upward involuntarily.

His lips part the same as yours—but only allowing another dry laugh to pass between them.

“Relax. I’ll come to you.”

You hum as he leans down and kisses you back into the pillow—a proper kiss, this time, lips parted and the tip of his tongue grazing yours—all the while, still pumping his fingers much deeper than your own could ever manage. Each moan and gasp he allows you to release freely, only barely parting from your lips every few seconds to let you breathe and make your noises. When his fingers begin pumping faster, and you can hear it, you whine, knees clamping shut as the small of your back jumps away from the couch.

“Fuck,” you pant against his lips.

“Need you to keep your legs open, baby,” Spencer reminds you gently, giving you a peck and a moment to relax as his hand stills.

“I don’t think I can,” you admit shyly, still wriggling. “Um, can you—can you use your mouth, please?”

Your boyfriend chuckles again and your cheeks get warmer. Momentarily you allow yourself to be grateful that his face is pressed too close to your own for him to be really be looking at you.

“You still have to keep your legs apart for that.”

“I know. It’s easier when—when you’re not inside.”

The smile in Spencer’s voice when he replies gives you butterflies as if he’s not knuckle deep in you already.

“I bet you think that’s true.”

“It is!” you whine.

“You’ve never had your thighs wrapped around your head so tightly your ears pop, have you?”

“That did��not happen.”

“Only once,” Spencer reassures you. “And I happen to like your thighs. So no harm done. Go lie down on the bed.”

You let out a small chirp as he withdraws his fingers from you and your waistband snaps back into place against your skin.

“Where are you going?” you ask suspiciously, once you’re on semi-steady feet and watching him rise from the couch too. At once he kisses your forehead and grabs your ass—the contrast is dizzying.

“To wash my hands,” he says, popping the fingers that were just in you into his mouth like a preliminary clean up. “Go,” he urges, jutting his chin in the direction of the bedroom door. You hang from him just a second longer, biting back a smile, before tearing yourself away and only half-skipping to the bedroom.

Only a moment or two after you flop joyfully down on the mattress, he appears in the doorway again, immediately noticing the way you’re practically vibrating with excitement and unable to hide your grin as he approaches. It seems the smile is contagious—he’s sporting one of his own as he climbs over you.

“You’re adorable,” he murmurs toothily, kissing you once and then speaking again, “I love you so much.”

It’s exactly the kind of thing that makes you feel all soft and shy and giddy and speechless—even as he gives you one more parting kiss and then is sitting up to slide your pants off.

Maybe even especially then.

The sweetness dissipates only a little, still hanging thick in the air as you kick your bottoms off, and he leans back down, pushing your shirt over your chest and pressing kisses to your ribs and down your tummy. He doesn’t waste much time, only taking one brief detour to suck a mark and sink his teeth into your inner thigh until your breath catches loud enough to appease him. Then it’s all easy—his cool fingertips trailing up and down the backs of your thighs as he kisses all over and around your core. Intimacy with Spencer is definitely a spectrum, and while you can always feel the depth of his love for you in every touch, right now it’s so tangible, so potent you can feel it in your teeth.

You coo when one of the kisses finally sticks, lacing your fingers through the hair you love so much and pushing it out of the way as he laps gently at you. He looks as beautiful as always in the golden hour light as it filters through the window, but you’ve always thought he’s just that extra bit prettier when he’s eating you out.

Visually you’re entranced—it’s only when he begins easing you into the deep end with the flicking of his tongue that your brow knits and you gasp.

“Spencer,” you whisper, and it melds into a louder gasp. “Baby.”

He hums into you, reaching around your thigh to grab one of your wrists. You allow him to drag your hand from his hair and intertwine your fingers, his hand on top of yours, pressing them against your stomach where he sweeps his thumb back and forth over your knuckles.

The display of tenderness only makes you ache deeper in your belly, singing in airy, open-mouthed praise for him with a moan you know he would describe as pretty. Spencer says things like that often. He always talks about you like you’re an art form. When it comes to talking about touching you, he’s especially poetic.

When he begins to suckle, your moans get a little more explicit.

But he likes those ones just fine, too.

“Oh, fuck,” you breathe, though it’s a little choked, as you writhe just slightly against him. “That’s so good—oh my god.”

The hand that’s not holding yours rapidly changes position—pressing your thigh to the side with his elbow while he slips his fingers inside you once more.

At that, you really do choke, your body attempting to sit bolt upright but set off balance by the way your hips buck. You moan, loud, lilting, head still lifted to watch as he begins fucking you with his fingers. Your fingers brush through his hair several times before you’re anchoring your hand in it and falling back.

“Wh—please, baby, I can’t—”

But you can, and you both know it. You always do this; your body sends you signs that you’re over-indulging and fights to escape the stimuli and Spencer has learned to recognize your false flags for what they are. His hand speeds up along with his tongue and you cry out again, fighting to keep your legs open and your hips on the bed as every nerve in your body seems to light up neon.

“Oh—Spencer I’m gonna come,” you warn, all high pitched and synthesized into one word. He simply hums a long mhm in acknowledgment, and decides at that moment to brush his fingers over that spot inside of you which proves to be exactly the right button to trigger your detonation.

You can’t help the way you twist then as your orgasm washes you out—jaw dropped as your final keen starts loud, sputters into silence, and melts into an exhausted whine as your hips wind down. Spencer (wisely) adjusts his position, letting go of your hand only so he can sit up as your thighs clamp shut hard. But he’s still pumping his fingers as you writhe, his own mouth hanging open and groaning as you mewl. You watch him through half-lidded eyes, ready to beg him to stop—but as usual, he knows your body better than you do. An orgasm that you had thought was on its way out gets a second life and you can’t even breathe as you feel it so deep within you, pinpointed to one spot of focus, that you have to curl in on yourself, keeling onto your side because it’s simply too intense.

Either your vision goes black or your eyes are simply closed—regardless, time ceases for an unquantifiable moment, and you come to with Spencer rubbing your back and murmuring your name.

“What did I do to you?” he laughs, not unkindly.

Your back arches as mild aftershocks trickle through your system.

“I don’t know,” you slur. “Dark magic.”

He allows himself to be pulled on top of you once more, and you tangle your hands in his hair again.

“But you’re okay?” he murmurs, using his dry hand to play with your hair and brush over your cheek.

“Mhm,” you nod, eyes fluttering shut once more. Then you laugh, sudden and unexpected to both of you. “I think. That was intense. I felt that one in my soul.”

You smile as he exhales a laugh against your skin.

“Okay,” Spencer sighs after you catch your breath, bumping his nose against yours before sitting up—this time, not allowing you to pull him back down. “I need to take a shower. You should come with me.”

“Five more minutes,” you mumble. He raises his eyebrows.

“But this is your last chance to wash my hair before it’s a whole inch shorter tomorrow.”

“Oh,” you laugh, but it turns deadly serious very quickly. “Spencer, I am not letting you cut a whole inch off your hair. I need that inch.”

“For what?” He snorts.

You smile big, glad he didn’t see your joke coming for once.

“Handles! Duh!”

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid smut #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds smut #criminal minds fic

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venomhoundfanworks · 3 months ago

Text

Hazbin Hotel - Morning Routines

Kind of a part 2 to the Sleeping Habits Post??? While that one is about falling asleep with them, this one is about what its like to wake up with them. Same lineup; Alastor, Vox, and Lucifer. I... also might have accidentally started a Charlie one so I might be doing more parts to these (｡ŏ_ŏ)

Contents/WARNINGS: Gender neutral reader; NSFW in Vox's section; mostly just nuclear powered fluff; somebody PLEASE get Lucifer a doctor the man is so depressed (18+), MDNI, NSFW below the cut ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

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Alastor ₊˚ ‿︵୨୧

As gone over in my sleeping habits post, Alastor does not like sharing a bed normally. But if it does happen to be a blue moon and he actually stayed the whole night; it is a sight to behold in the morning.

Alastor's hair is naturally curly. Due to internalized racism (from you know, the 1920s), Alastor insists his hair must be straight and has a crazy hair routine to keep it that way. One of many reasons why his hair is so... gnarly looking.

Right after he wakes up in the mornings though, his bedhead breaks through the illusion. You get to see the glorious sight of Alastor's hair attempting to go back to its natural form. The edges of his locks are making small loops in all directions, and his face is framed in loose ringlets.

Unfortunately, this only lasts for about ten minutes at most before he goes to "fix" it.

Other then getting to see that beautiful sight, the mornings are the same regardless of if he stayed in the bed with you or not; You always get to wake up to his wonderful cooking.

Alastor has unfortunately had to take it upon himself to be the hotel chef. Charlie did try to do it for a little bit, but that resulted in more fires and ambiguous remains then anything. Vaggie and Husk can barely operate a microwave. Nifty is well... Nifty.

So Alastor pops into the hotel kitchen at around 7am to start cooking breakfast for the hotel. More 7:30 if his hair has been particularly unruly that day.

Alastor pokes fun at everyone over being their chef, but he really likes it actually. He will never admit that to anyone though. He finds the mornings relaxing because he gets to just cook, something that he enjoys and thats deeply nostalgic for him. It starts him off on the right foot for the day.

The only times it starts him on the wrong foot, is when Lucifer decides to get up at an ungodly hour (or straight up pull an all nighter), just so he can steal the kitchen and make the hotel breakfast instead.

Lucifer does this because he thinks he is a better chef then Alastor. Surely, Alastor's annoyance is proof of that! But Alastor is actually pissed off because his plans for the morning got set on fire by Lucifer's dumb ego.

Alastor really does go above and beyond as the chef by the way. For a cannibal, you would never expect how respectful he is of everyone's dietary preferences. If your a vegetarian, or even a vegan, Alastor won't blow you off. He will make something for everyone that still works for you, or just make you something special. He sees it less as you having a dietary restriction and more as a challenge of his skills.

Anyways, thanks to Alastor, mornings at the hotel are always extremely nice. Everyone comes down to eat together, hang out, and just be. Its a tranquil time and atmosphere that he has taken great care to cultivate. Sets him up perfectly mentally for his afternoon radio shows.

✿°•∘୨୧∘•°✿‿✿°•∘୨୧∘•°✿‿✿°•∘୨୧∘•°✿

Vox ₊˚ ‿︵୨୧

Vox always wakes up with a big sigh. He is very much that type of person whose first thought when waking up is, 'goddamn it, I woke up'. Hates leaving the bed but knows he has to.

At least Vox stops having those thoughts when you become apart of his life.

If your still in the bed when he wakes up, Vox is immediately comforted by your weight on his chest. He cant help but smile as his arms tighten around you. One of Vox's hands starts absentmindedly carding through your hair as he goes over everything he has to do that day in his head.

If your not in the bed when Vox wakes up, it completely fucks with his mind. His sleeping body does not register you moving or getting up at all. So from Vox's perspective, you were in his arms one second then... not. Vox will wake up to you not there and be super confused. He will legit start looking for you like a puppy.

Depending on your relationship status with him, Vox might even just assume that he dreamt/hallucinated the whole encounter with you. Only realizing that it actually happened upon outside evidence.

Operating on the assumption that you two are a thing; Vox now tries to keep his mornings flexible because of you. They used to be very regimented. Vox would wake up, get dressed, grab a coffee, then be right out the door to head to work. But now that your here, the mornings are much more relaxed.

When you first move in, Vox's first order of business is to hire a personal chef. Don't get me wrong, Vox loves it when you cook for him. The guy absolutely melts when you do. But the reality is he loves it a little... too much. Which often results in no breakfast actually being had because Vox ends up dragging you back to the bedroom. Of course, that's if he doesn't end up fucking you right on the counter or kitchen table.

Look. Seeing you by the stove in an apron just does something to him, alright?

If you ever even asked Vox if he knew how to cook, the guy would probably bluescreen. The only thing he knows how to ""cook"" is 'takeout'. (image included) If he tried to boil an egg, he would burn the water.

So yeah. Vox takes initiative to get you two a chef. He doesn't want you to have to cook for him anyway; he wants it to be an act of love rather then an obligation. If you push Vox and say you want to cook for him, he will making heart eyes and be ready to marry you on the spot.

Seriously. Make him cute, homemade lunches for work. Vox will brag about them to everyone. Put adorable love notes in there and everything. The guy will be on his knees.

Regardless of who actually made the breakfast, Vox always has it with you. He may be a busy man, but he makes sure this is a time you get him exclusively. Vox lets you know of his schedule for the day (assuming Valentino doesnt set it on fire ofc) and when he plans on being home.

When Vox leaves for work he actually has a genuine smile on his face. Don't get me wrong, he still hates it and cant wait to get back home to you. But Vox doesn't feel that same crushing dread that he did before.

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Lucifer ₊˚ ‿︵୨୧

It used to be so hard to get up for him. It wasn't uncommon for Lucifer to just wallow in bed for an entire day. But now that your here, everything has changed. Lucifer actually has a reason to get up in the mornings again. He used to just go back to sleep and pretend the world doesn't exist.

He is a morningbird by nature, so he often wakes up before you. However, Lucifer hates leaving your arms and the cozy bed. So one of two things happens depending on how he is feeling.

If Lucifer is feeling good, or just particularly lovey that morning; he will pull you extra close to him and start kissing all over you. You'll wake up to the wonderful feeling of fleeting kisses and his smile on your skin. No better way to start the day.

As soon as he notices your awake, Lucifer moves to place quick, chaste kisses all over your face. All while asking, "How are you feeling, Ducky?", "Did you sleep okay?", "Have any fun dreams?".

Lucifer looks at you with the most adoring look in his eyes, desperate to snuggle and feel your skin on his. He wants to listen to you talk about anything and everything.

After awhile of cuddling and pillow talk, you have to be the one to convince Lucifer to get up. He will playfully whine and try to keep you in the bed, but he won't keep it up for long. Lucifer also cant wait to make you a wonderful breakfast and talk more while he cooks too~

Lucifer is a chatterbox when he wants to be. Especially with someone he loves. He basically wants to imbibe your entire being; that includes getting to know every random thought you have and every dark corner of your mind.

But if Lucifer feels the weight of depression weighing him down that morning, he simply snuggles deeper into you when he wakes. His grip on you tightens, and he pulls the sheets tighter around you two. Like he is building a cocoon or trying to shield you both from the outside.

Sometimes you can tell as soon as he wakes up that he is in a bad state. Instead of kisses, you are woken up by the trembling of his small form. Shaking with unshed tears and fresh pain from old wounds.

Lucifer clings to you desperately; the grip of his claws threatening to break your skin. You have to physically force him away from you just so you can look him in the eyes. Even then, Lucifer whimpers and tries to hug you tighter in protest.

He will begin to plead with you. Saying things like "Don't leave me" or "Please stay". You kiss him gently and bring him into your chest as he finally begins to sob. You two stay there for a long time. Lucifer is extra clingy that day. Attached to you at the hip and always holding your hand in his. His heart rate picks up and he starts to get frantic if your fingers slip out of his.

Mornings with Lucifer are overall just very slow. Meandering. Lucifer's safe place has become the bed since the heights of his depression, so he is reluctant to leave it. Some dark part of him feels that the longer he can keep you in bed, the longer he wont have to say an inevitable 'goodbye'.

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LINKS AND FURTHER READING ₊˚ ‿︵୨୧

My Masterlist for my Other Work: >>HERE<<

First part to this post, Sleeping Habits is: >>HERE<<

AO3 Archive Link: >>HERE<<

Its a super silly idea, but I love >>THIS POST<< by @/antiheroalastor where you find out Alastor has a extensive skincare routine.

Cute imagine by @/voxisdaddy where Vox has to cuddle you to fall asleep can be found >>HERE<<

Then something more spicy, >>HERE<< are some ADORABLE Lucifer aftercare headcanons by @/redr0sewrites. Rose writes the rambling, dorky, disaster Lucifer that I have envisioned in my head PERFECTLY.

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flemingsfreckles · 4 months ago

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In Control (18+ g!p)

Synopsis: After Jessie leaves you high and dry one morning before training, you decide to take matters into your own hands when she returns home late that evening.

Warnings: SMUT (18+), g!p smut, simulated sex (think dry humping without clothes 🙃), oral sex (r giving), delayed orgasm/edging, lots of grinding, sort of ruined orgasm, dirty talk, slight dom/sub dynamic, overstimulation,

WC: 4.4k

A/N: hi, I know g!p isn’t everyone’s thing, but I had this idea and couldn’t get it out of my brain so I needed to write it. I also promise I’ve got some non-g!p smut in the works as well as some non-smut stuff. I’ve just had to take a bit of a break to deal with some real life things and take time after the election to compose myself and take some time to care for myself. I promise other stuff is slowly being worked on, this is just what was the most completed.

“Babe, don’t!” You scolded Jessie as she lay behind you, subtly grinding the hard on she had woken up with into your ass.

“Don’t what?” Her voice, still deep with sleep

“You know what you’re doing, you’re going to get me all worked up, then leave me high and dry when your alarm goes off in,” you lean over to look at the clock, “8 minutes, and then you get to go work off steam at practice while I’m stuck here without you!”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She whispered, before placing an open mouth kiss on the side of your neck, her arms slowly wrapping around your midsection. Her fingers draw lines across your stomach and begin to trail up to your chest as she continues gently grinding herself into you. It takes everything in you to not roll your hips back, you couldn’t give her the satisfaction of knowing she already had you worked up.

As you predicted, Jessie’s alarm rang out just a few moments later and suddenly her hands were gone and the bed behind you was empty as Jessie moved into the bathroom to get ready. When she came back out in a shirt and shorts you couldn’t help but notice the still prominent bulge she had.

“You didn’t take care of yourself in there?” You say, still eyes her up.

Shaking her head Jessie smiled at you, “I’m saving it for you, plus it’ll go away in a minute or two once I’m thinking about training and not my sexy girlfriend.”

“Go then, but give me a kiss first.” You reach a hand out in her direction.

“I love you.” She says as she walks over to where you remained in bed.

“I love you.” Your lips meet in a quick kiss. “You better be ready to go when you get home, none of this I’m too tired from training shit. You’ve fucked me after playing 90 and then going to after parties, you can handle it after a training session.” You smile up at her, giving her a quick wink, making sure she knew you were teasing.

“I promise, I’ll make it worth the wait, I’ll have you screaming my name baby.” She responded with a cocky tone, letting her hand trail down your sternum before placing one final kiss on your lips. “We’re done at 1:30, I’ll be leaving there around 2:30 at the latest, I promise. 3 o’clock I’m all yours.”

You sighed heavily as you checked the time again. 2:30 came and went, no text from Jessie that she’d be home soon, then it was 2:45 still no word from her, and then it was 3:00. You had gotten yourself all ready 30 minutes before Jessie was supposed to be home And here she was, late.

You had gone into the closet, finding the small shopping bag you had purchased the other day. Inside of it a tight, dark blue lacy bra with a matching thong to go with it. You had put both on, then perched yourself on your bed in anticipation for Jessie’s return home, waiting for her to come and follow through on her promise to have you screaming her name.

You were annoyed at first, Jessie never blew you off. She was a terrible texted but she kept you updated on where she was, when she’d be home. This was unusual behavior, you were worried about her, maybe something happened, maybe she had gotten injured. Your early stages of spiraling were put to rest when Jessie finally returned your messages at 3:21.

Jessie ☺️: I’m so sorry, I got caught up in some impromptu press stuff I didn’t know about, I’ll be home soon.

Slightly frustrated with her, you decide to get your revenge. Smirking to yourself you open your phone's camera before sliding your hand to the waistband of your thong. You move your hand down between your legs, taking a moment to touch yourself before deciding to take a photo. It wasn’t overly explicit, just showing your hand between your legs and a teasing glimpse of the blue lace, but it would get the idea into Jessie’s head.

You: I was told I’d be getting pleased by 3, just didn’t know I’d have to do it myself.

You watch as the message goes from delivered to read. You watch as she types for a moment, then stop, no message ever being delivered. You roll your eyes, losing your phone before lying back, letting your fingers mindlessly play with your core, not really trying to get yourself off but more just enjoying the feeling.

You heard the jingle of her keys and the door shut followed by quick footsteps and the bedroom door swinging open not long after. Jessie stood in the doorway still wearing her training kit. Her eyes fall to where your hand was still inside the lacy fabric.

“Oh wow.”

“Nice of you to show up.” You say firmly at her, sitting yourself up on your elbows, taking your fingers away from where they had been on your clit.

“I know, I’m so sorry, we just had media stuff that no one told us about.” As Jessie begins her frustrated rant regarding having to participate in media and the lack of warning your eyes can’t help but wander down her body to the slightly obvious tent of her training shorts.

“I just wish they’d given us a heads up, that would’ve been nice, but no, they made us all train and then shower and then we had to get back into clean training kits and pretend we were training again for photos.” Jessie continues on rambling.

Deciding you had heard enough you push yourself up from the bed and walk over to her. She continues talking, eyes now closed in frustration, complaining about her day until she feels your hand fall between her legs, cupping the noticeable arousal. Her eyes immediately open, falling to where your hand rested.

“Should we do something about this?” You look at her, giving a gentle squeeze to her bulge. She nods and you reach for her neck with your free hand, pulling her in hard to kiss you. Her body pressed into yours, letting her covered bulge grind against you. “Hang on Jess.” You manage to clear your mind enough to push her away gently. She steps back, her eyes trailing over your nearly naked body, drinking you in with her eyes.

“God I’m so lucky.” She mumbles to herself. You feel shy and yet confident under her gaze, knowing you could make her like this felt good.

“Lay down.” You say nodding at the bed. Jessie questions you with a glance. You throw your hands up. “Just do it, let me put on a show for you.” Running your hands over the lace of the bra you try to sell the lie you were telling her. You knew if you told her what you were about to do, she’d be stubborn. Promising a show would get her on the bed easily.

As you expected she quickly climbs on the bed situating herself in the middle. You follow her, making your way towards where she laid. Jessie sits up one hand out to reach for you, instead your hands find her shoulders and you gently push her down, putting her on her back before climbing to sit on her thighs.

“Hey that was mean.”

“So was telling me that you'd be mine at 3, and then not getting home until nearly 4.”

“I know, but babe I had media.” She tried to defend herself. You knew deep down it wasn’t her fault, but she could’ve at least texted.

“Shhh.” You put a finger to her lips. “No excuses, right?” You nod encouragingly down at her, until her own head mirrors the nod. You lean down kissing her hard, starting to slowly grind yourself down onto Jessie’s thighs. “Now,” you pause, “do you think you deserve a show?”

Jessie just looks at you, her eyes jumping around your face, unsure of how to answer, so she doesn’t. She continues to stare, her mouth opening every few seconds as if she’s going to answer before she closes it again.

“I don’t think you do. Had you been on time, I would’ve given you a show, I would’ve let you put your hands all over me, I would’ve let you pull these off of me, or maybe I would’ve let you decide if you wanted to fuck me while I was still wearing them. But you were late, and I had to start by myself.”

Jessie sighs, “Let me make it up to you, let me show you I’m sorry.” Her hands come to rest on your thighs, letting them creep up toward your core.

“No, keep your hands to yourself.” You say with a glare before moving off her thighs. You bring your hands lower, one cupping the obvious tent in her shorts. Giving it a quick squeeze, Jessie bucks her hips slightly.

You slowly draw down her shorts, making sure to tease her, taking your time getting the waistband past her erection, letting the fabric drag slowly over her cock. You then repeat the same tantalizing process with her tight compression boxers, finally letting her length spring free. You admire it for a second, giving it your full attention knowing it made Jessie feel shy but you wanted to truly appreciate her, all of her. “Is that all for me? Did I get you this hard?” You cock an eyebrow, looking up at her from where you sat between her legs.

Jessie nods in your direction, her eyes looking between her own arousal and your face.

“Tell me baby.” You encourage her.

“You make me so hard.”

“Good girl.” You praise her, causing her breath to hitch slightly at the words and her erection to bounce as her muscles clench In reaction to your words.

“You know I was thinking about this,” Your hand wraps around the base of her cock, “when I was touching myself. I was thinking about how well you fuck me, how wet I get for you, thinking about you, all of you, your fingers and your tongue and especially your cock.”

Jessie takes a deep breath, blinking quickly a few times, you can tell she’s trying to compose herself the way her hands fist the bedsheets before relaxing.

“You must’ve had some dirty thoughts of your own, the way you walked in the door already hard. What were you thinking about baby?”

“You.” Jessie tries to thrust her hips into your hand slightly, causing you to take your hand away from her.

“Tell me more.”

“I was thinking about that dirty little photo you sent me. I was thinking about fucking you.” You nod encouragingly as she speaks, bringing your hand back to her, running your fingers down her length. Her words stops and you once again take away your hand.

“More.” You say looking up at her.

She nods, looking to the ceiling for a moment. “I was thinking about, how sexy you are, how good you feel around me,” Jessie’s words fill the air, you bring your mouth to the tip of her cock, your tongue grazing over the head, cleaning the precum that was leaking from the tip. When Jessie’s voice stops you pull your head back and look up to see her eyes blown wide and mouth slightly ajar.

“You stop talking, I stop too.”

“Your pussy, I was thinking about your pussy, how tight you feel, how you’re made for me.” As she speaks you take the head of her length into your mouth, letting your tongue swirl around it, pleased with yourself when she stumbles over her words. “I was thinking about how I want to be deep inside of you, making you scream my name.”

Rewarding her you take her length into your mouth until the tip hits the back of your throat, before pulling off and watching in amusement as she thrusts into the air, wanting your mouth back. “I don’t think you deserve to be in my mouth, and you certainly don’t deserve to be in my pussy.” Jessie just lets out another sigh as she looks up at you with a silent beg.

Your hand strokes Jessie’s length once, spreading your saliva along it before your hand comes to hold it for a moment. Slowly you push her cock down, the tip coming to rest on her stomach just below her bellybutton. You hold it flat against her stomach and begin to adjust yourself. You move upward, off her thighs to hover over her hips, your core just inches away from where you knew she wanted it.

Smirking down at her you pull your panties to the side and lower yourself onto her. You raised an eyebrow as you gave a tentative grind yourself along Jessie’s length, watching her for any signs of discomfort. The stuttered breath from Jessie gave you all the information you needed to know, she was enjoying this as well.

You repeat your motion, letting the slick of your arousal coat the underside of her cock. Looking up from where the head of her cock was starting to leak onto her stomach you find Jessie’s face mesmerized as she watched you grind on her. “Guess you’re getting a show after all.” You say smugly, her eyes pulling away and coming up to meet yours. “Like what you see?”

A smile creeps onto Jessie’s face as she nods. “Yeah, you look fucking gorgeous.”

“Would this make it better?” You say as you reach a hand behind your back, removing the clasp on your bra and letting the material slide down your shoulders slightly. You remove the bra, tossing it to the side and you swear you can feel Jessie’s cock twitch against you. Her hands start to move upward before you move your own hands to cover your chest. “It’s just a show, no touching, if you had been on time you could’ve touched me in any way you wanted.” Standing up quickly, despite Jessie’s whine as the loss of contact, you strip off the panties you had already soaked, dropping them on the floor before climbing back onto the bed and settling yourself on Jessie’s cock.

Feeling smug at the way Jessie lets out a small huff of frustration, you rock back and forth again, this time making sure to grind your clit against her head, knowing that’s where she was most sensitive. “Fuck.” Jessie’s hands grip your thighs, her nails digging in slightly. You feel her arms tense as they try to encourage your grinding motion.

Fed up with her, you grab her wrists, pulling them from your thighs, noticing the way your skin flashes white before returning pink from how hard she had been gripping you. You lace your fingers with hers before leaning forward, pinning her arms above her head. “What did I say? No touching. You’re not in charge anymore, you lost that privilege when you were late.” You watch as Jessie’s eyes widen in what appears to be shock, you weren’t normally one to be dominant in the bedroom, that was usually her role. You felt uneasy for a moment watching her reaction, worried you’d made her uncomfortable, but she just looked up at you before swallowing hard and nodding.

“Please.” She let out what would be an otherwise embarrassing whine, but you knew she didn’t care. You could feel the way her body tensed under yours, her hands clenching into fists. You just smile and shake your head down at her.

She could flip the two of you easily, you both knew it. She was stronger, even in her compromised position she had leg, core, and arm strength that yours couldn’t match. While she could overpower you, Jessie also knew this was a punishment, she had gotten held up at work and failed to tell you, so while she could flip you, easily have her way with you, she remained flat on the bed, looking up helplessly at you.

“Babe, please, I’m so sorry.”

“Hmmm.” You pretend to ponder the choices, knowing fully that you weren’t going to let her get her way just yet. “No, I don’t think you’ve learned your lesson yet.”

“I have, babe I’ll never do it again.” You can feel her starting to squirm more beneath you. “Let me show you how sorry I am, let me make you feel good.”

“I’m feeling plenty good. I think it’s you who’s a little worked up.” You lean down putting your mouth to her ear. “I think you just want to be in my tight pussy.” You whisper, punctuating your sentence by grazing your teeth along her ear.

“I- “fuck, I do, I want to be inside you, but I want to make you feel good.”

“Like I said, I’m feeling plenty good.” You emphasize your words with a roll of your hips, watching as Jessie’s mouth falls open and she briefly closes her eyes. Taking her silence as acceptance of her punishment, you continue grinding yourself along her, enjoying the way her face contorts trying to hide how good you were making her feel.

You start to notice how Jessie’s breathing picks up, going from long, deep breaths trying to compose herself, to quicker, less even breathing. It doesn’t take long before Jessie speaks up again. “Fuck, babe, I’m gonna cum soon if you don’t stop.”

“Yeah?” You let your hips stall for a moment and watch as Jessie instantly relaxes below you, taking in a slow deep breath.

“Yeah, you’ve got me so close.”

“Good.” You smirk down at her as you begin moving your hips, you watch as frustration flushes through Jessie’s face before being replaced with pleasure as you grind yourself onto the head of her cock. Her eyes begin to roll back before she quickly shuts her eyes, letting out a strained grunt.

“Fuck.” She mutters, head thrown back slightly. “Fuck, babe.” She sends you a glare, an expression of annoyance across her face. ”Seriously. I’m going to cum.”

“Then do it.” You shrug your shoulders.

“No.” Jessie shakes her head against the pillow, her eyes pinched shut, “Not yet, I want to cum inside you.” You almost laugh at her expression. You hardly ever got to see Jessie like this, putty in your hands,

“If you wanted to cum inside me maybe you would’ve come home on time.” You couldn’t help but feel proud of yourself as you watched your usually in control, level headed, calm girlfriend fall apart beneath you. “Then you could’ve been so deep inside me, any position you would’ve wanted, let you manhandle me, use me, I would’ve let you cum in me. But you were late.”

She shuts her mouth, lips tight, she squints at you, not saying a word.

“Oh, are you upset baby?” You tease her. Putting both of her wrists in one hand you grab her chin with the other, making her look at you. She glares up at you, still not speaking. “Okay well how about I give you options? Would you like that?”

Jessie keeps her glare for a moment before giving in and nodding.

“Okay, well you can either cum now just like this,” you gesture downward to where her cock still remained nestled between your lips. “Or, you don’t cum at all, I’ll climb off, leave you here, and use one of our toys to finish the job. What would you prefer?” You notice the degrading tone you’re using toward her, but you also don’t care.

She doesn’t give you an answer right away, to tease her you start to shift your weight as if you’re going to stand up. “Like this.” She finally mutters.

“Good choice.” You sit back down with a grin, returning to your previous motion, making sure to focus your attention on the head of her cock. It’s only a few minutes later that Jessie starts to quietly whine.

You know it’s coming, you can tell by her facial expressions, the way she scrunches her nose and her eyebrows pinch together. Her chest begins to heave. You finally release her hands, realizing just how hard she was straining against you, they immediately grab your hips as you allow her to aid your grinding motion as she ever so slightly thrusts her hips. The way her eyes get wide as if giving you one last plea to be inside of you before slamming shut, her lips falling apart as a deep groan from her fills the air.

Pausing your own thrusts you watch as her hips thrust roughly twice before stalling, the head of her cock nestled between your lips. You can feel her tense up below you. A whisper of profanities comes from her mouth. Her hands tighten on your thighs, her nails indenting your skin, her thighs and core clenched and she holds her breath as she begins to cum, traces being shot over her own chest. A whine full of pleasure mixed with frustration escapes her body as you feel her length twitch beneath you.

“Now that you got yours, I want mine.” You say starting to grind yourself on her again. You knew you had to be quick, using her length while it was still hard you moved yourself faster, grinding yourself harder. Jessie gasps as you begin to pleasure yourself once again, using her overly stimulated cock.

“Oh fuck, this is so good Jess.” Feeling yourself get closer to the edge you no longer care that she’s touching you, not enough self control to slow your impending orgasm.

“Fuck, fuck,” Jessie groans beneath you, her eyes are still closed as she tries to keep her composure long enough to help you get your orgasm. she bites her lip hard stuck between the immense pleasure and overstimulation she was experiencing. “Too much.” She whines as you speed up your hips, your hands flat on her chest using her for leverage.

“You can take it. I’m almost there Jess.” You knew if she needed you to stop she’d tell you, you also knew she’d do anything to get you your pleasure. Her hands kneaded at your thighs as she tried to hold herself together long enough to help you. She nodded, adding in a thrust with her hips, aiding in the stimulation on your clit.

“Right there, fuck.” You can feel your thighs beginning to tremble on either side of Jessie’s waist as your orgasm creeps closer. Your hands leave her chest and move to your own, letting your fingertips graze over your sensitive nipples. You did it knowing it would give you the tiny bit of sensation you needed to get over the edge but also because you knew it drove Jessie crazy.

As you expected, her mouth falls open in awe watching you. You catch her eyes for one moment before your own close as you throw your head back, your orgasm crashing down. The feeling of release radiates from your core across the rest of your body causing you to tense, stalling your hips momentarily. You jerk your hips against Jessie a few times, working yourself through your orgasm, before collapsing forward. A small sigh leaves your lips as your head comes to rest in the crook of her neck as you wind down. Your breathing is quick and shallow against her skin.

You allow yourself only a minute to recover before pushing yourself up from where you lay on her chest. “I love you, don’t be late next time.” You smirked as you rolled over, still spent from your own orgasm you lay for just a second before quickly getting up. “I’m going to shower.” You look back for a second admiring your girlfriend, her chest covered in her cum, her now softening cock still resting up on her stomach, covered in your own arousal, she looked beautifully spent.

Jessie laid on the bed still, nearly frozen in place, unable to comprehend the past hour. A feeling of overstimulation was still lingering between her thighs but also so was a strong desire to go again. She couldn’t believe the way you took control, the way you held your own against her. She was so used to you crumbling under her touch, falling into submission quickly, but you hadn’t this time. You took control, you had pushed her down on the bed, you had your way with her, you made her submissive. What was confusing Jessie’s mind the most was how much she had liked it.

Laying back, thinking of how you had pinned her hands above her head, how you had her begging for you, how hot you looked using her body to get yourself off. She was in awe, speechless, dumbfounded and overall she was aroused. She looked down, seeing the remnants of her previous orgasm across her stomach and chest, as well as her cock that was beginning to rise again. She needed you.

You waited in the bathroom for a moment, shower running, waiting for your girlfriend to join you. When she didn’t and you didn’t hear her move, you wandered back into the bedroom, still seeing Jessie laid on her back. “Are you joining me, or should I shower by myself, oh!” You stop your question noticing the hard on Jessie was displaying.

Her hands immediately move downward to conceal herself as a smirk grows on your face. “Ready to go again already?”

You watch as the expression on Jessie’s face turns to one you know all too well. Gone was the shy, sweet, submissive side of your girlfriend, her face now firm stared back at you. She was about to get her revenge.

She moved off the bed and toward you, her hand grabbing your chin and pulling it to look at her. “Get in the shower. Seems like someone needs a reminder of who’s in charge around here, and I think we’ll start with you cleaning me up with that smart little tongue of yours.”

#jessie fleming #jflem #jessie fleming x reader #jessie fleming imagine #woso x reader #woso imagine #canwnt x reader #woso smut

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sobbingscripter · 22 days ago

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Tags: [mlw][mdni][established relationship][praise, praise, PRAISE][soft dom jason][mdom][little bit of a daddy kink if you squint][fingering][slight somnophilia][jason speaks spanish btw, not a lot][slightly instructed masturbation][mating press][adoring][scar mention][implied creampie]

It's hard to believe that the hands that were bashing skulls just 30 minutes earlier, are the hands that are cradling your face so sweetly, calloused fingers gently patting sunscreen onto your face, caressing the soft flesh beneath the pads of his thumbs.

Emerald pools meet yours inbetween slow blinks, a warm and barely noticeable smile plastered on his face, dimples digging into those tanned cheeks as Jason lets out a soft breath.

"You're so pretty."

Jason murmurs sweetly, thumbs brushing over the skin beneath your eyes, his knees digging into the mattress on either side of you, thick thighs straining against his cargo pants, fabric tautly tugged as he sets his weight atop your lap.

Pinky fingers resting just below your ear, feeling the steady thump of your pulse as it beats beneath your skin and Jason leans forward, soft lips pressing against your forehead.

"So... So pretty."

He praises softly.

"Jay, are you okay?" You question with a snort, delicate hands lifting to wrap around as much of his wrists as you can, halting his adoring touches as you stare up at him through your lashes, a brow raised in confusion.

"You're a bit more.... Lovey." You add with a hum, soft thumbs brushing along the skin of his wrist, exposed by where his compression shirt had ridden up.

"No reason." Jason hums quietly. "I just saw a bloodstain that reminded me of you, so I ended patrol a little earlier."

"I'm sorry," you scoff, "a bloodstain?"

"Yeah. I hit a guy's head against the wall and it splattered like a heart." Jason reaches into one of the many pockets in his pants, obviously fishing for his phone. "Wanna see?"

"No." You sigh softly. "No, I do not."

It's a quiet type of affection when you're watching old episodes of 'American Dad!', on an outdated but still amazingly efficient Wayne Tech laptop, the device resting on the empty nightstand as Jason cards his thick fingers through your hair. The scent of leather, blood and gunpowder clings to him alongside that distinct scent of Moroccan coffee and the cacophony of smells envelop you as he curls a thick arm around you, his legs entangled with yours.

Your face remains buried in the thickness of the warm flesh of his neck, your body curled up to his chest as you absentmindedly listen, sleepiness and weariness slowly tinging your peripheral vision with blackness.

"You want me to turn it off?"

Jason's voice is soft, so sweet and low, as he shifts against you, looking down at you from long lashes and twinkling emerald eyes stare at your forehead adoringly. Watching the way your baby hairs curl and frame your hairline so prettily.

"No no," you murmur sleepily, "m'listening..." You reassure quietly, staring up at Jason with bleary eyes and fluttering lashes, before burying your face in the expanse of his chest. The action makes his breath hitch, and his fingers twitch with nervousness, because you're nuzzling right at where the autopsy scar bisects his chest.

The raised scar tissue does nothing to deter you from relaxing against him, your breaths even and low.

Every once in a while, a sleepy giggle slips past your lips from particularly crude jokes and comments, and you occasionally peek over your shoulder, eyes flinching at the brightness. Until you look back at Jason, and you nearly coo.

Eyes closed shut, eyelashes reaching his high cheekbones and his expression is pinched into that little frown babies have when they sleep. So angry and adorable, and you card your fingers through his hair, the white tuft earning an extra stroke before you allow yourself to succumb to the sleep, the cartoon continuing to play silently.

A deep breath leaves your nose just as you fall asleep, and the warmth of Jason's body lulls you sweetly, even as his fingers sleepily stroke patterns onto your lower back.

ִֶָ𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ🐇་༘࿐

"You're so pretty." Jason mutters sleepily, his gaze lowered to where your head rests on his thick bicep, your hips pressed against his as his deep, rumbly voice resonates through your back. Jason feels trickles of drool drip down his arm, pooling on the pillow below but he pays no mind to the liquid, his mind already focused on one thing.

"You're so smart and you're so loving and attentive."

A calloused palm slides down the waistband of your sleeping shorts, stretching the elastic of your panties as two digits drag through your slippery folds and your brows knit into a little frown. Lashes flutter and you tilt your head just enough to meet Jason's gaze.

"Birdie?" You murmur sleepily, swords slurred and you wipe your mouth with one of your hands. "Are you ok— oh..."

Your lips form that pretty 'o' shape that Jason just loves to watch take place, pouty lips glistening with spit and your brows twitch.

"You mind?" He asks softly, his fingers stilling from their ministrations and he leans over you a bit more to keep his eyes on your dimly illuminated face, bleary eyes staring up at him and you shake your head.

"...don't mind.."

Letting out one of those sleepy sighs, you allow Jason to manoeuvre your body, tossing your thigh over the leg tucked beside you, and your thighs are splayed beneath the covers. He continues his motions, fingertips rubbing soft and lazy circles around your clit, feeling the way slick coats his digits and a soft kiss is pressed against your forehead.

It's gentle.

Like you're the most precious thing he's ever touched, the most priceless art piece he's ever laid his eyes on and another kiss is planted against the hollow of your temple.

Fingers gently probe at your slickened slit, his knuckles brushing over your puffy and glossy pussy before gently easing a digit into you and he nearly whines, burying his face in your hair and inhaling the scent of your shampoo.

It's so... Luxurious. He should start using your shampoo more.

Your lips part and hot breaths leave your lips, eyes fluttering open and meeting Jason's gaze.

"You look so pretty..." Jason coos softly, nearly melting as he thrusts his finger into you, feeling the way your gummy walls tug and suck at him, the sticky give of your cunt makes the lewdest squelches that makes his cock twitch in his pants.

"...besitos..." You mutter sleepily, lips pursing and brows twitching as you feel the way his digit prods and rubs against that gooey spot that has you arching your back against the sheets.

"¿Quieres besitos, amor?" Jason questions softly.

He can't help but feel the way his heart thrums whenever you speak to him in Spanish, your words just a bit slurred from sleep but sweet all the same and he leans forward, lips brushing against your own.

"You want me to kiss you?" He teases softly, before pressing his lips against yours. It's sweet, the way his mouth moves against yours, pulling away in small recessions and he swallows the whine you let out when his second finger is nestled sweetly in your cunt and you're throbbing.

"Atta girl, keep taking my fingers."

His thumb continuously flicks and brushes over your slickened bud, the little nub sensitive underneath his fingers as Jason coaxes an orgasm out of you.

Pulling saccharine moans from your lips and watching the way tears gathered on your pretty lashes, your chest heaving and nipples pebbling beneath the fabric of your T-shirt and he hums softly, pressing a kiss against your cheek.

"Good job, baby, good job." He croons to you sweetly, shifting until he's hovering over you and he's peppering soft kisses along your collarbones. And he's gently pulling your panties and shorts off, setting them aside before his hands move to the backs of your thighs, pushing them towards your chest and he watches the way your sticky cum smears across your inner thighs and needy pussy.

And Jason's pushing his sweatpants past his hips, until you place a hand on his lower belly, feeling the way the muscles flex beneath your palm.

"Take... Take off your shirt this time?"

You murmur softly, the light of the laptop bouncing off your pretty irises and you can see the hesitance in Jason's eyes.

"Please?"

You know he's always been a bit nervous about his autopsy scar, the large 'Y' extended across his torso entirely, raised scar tissue pinkened and smooth.

And when you catch the way he anxiously grasps for the edges of his shirt, you reach for the laptop, gently shutting it and the sigh he lets out is audible.

"Thank you, baby." The rustle of fabric fills the air before Jason's bare chest is pressed against you, the fabric of your T-shirt doing nothing to stifle the warmth of his body as he kisses you, his hips slotting between your thighs and his thick cock resting across your mound, ending just below your belly button.

"You think you're ready for me to put it in?" Jason asks softly, his hand reaching down below, his thumb swiping across your clit sweetly and you let out a shaky breath, nodding your head.

"Mhm, I'm ready."

"Can you be a doll and put those pretty legs on my shoulders?" Jason whispers softly, rough hand wrapped around his base as he notches the flushed tip of his cock at your slick hole, tracing along the seam of your cunt as he waits, patiently for you. You shift and readjust, moving your legs to rest on his shoulders and Jason hums.

"That's my sweet girl." He praises you, and the dim lights of the street allows you to watch the way his expression crumples in pleasure, his plump bottom lip caught between his teeth to muffle a whine as he slides his cock into you.

"Fuck, you're so warm." Jason breathes out, brows twitching and his hands move to rest on either side of your head. Hot breaths fan your features and Jason's hips begin to move.

He's not thrusting or pounding.

He's rolling his hips. Hips carved into the slightest bit of chub, thick and scarred thighs on either side of you, sinewy muscles surround you from all sides and Jason groans lowly.

He's stretching your cunt to fit him and the burn is phenomenal, your nails dragging down his back as his rotund tip leaks against your cervix, precum and your cum mixing to form a creamy ring at his base.

It's sweet and perfect.

The way your cunt grips him tightly, the way your lashes flutter shut and Jason leans closer, pressing his lips against yours with a gentleness that seems so uncommon for a man of his size. Of his profession.

"You're perfect." He breathes out. "So fucking perfect."

Bated breaths and murmured praises, kisses planted along the side of your face as his hips occasionally still, just so he can push the ball of his nose against your pulse, feeling the erratic thrum of your blood. And his hips grind into you.

"Nice and slow, yeah?" Jason's hands fist the sheets, your ankles brushing against his ears and occasionally, he plants a kiss against the protruding bones. "Does it feel good?"

And you can only nod, whining under your breath before finding the ability to talk.

"Feels so good..." You breathe out. "Keep fucking me. I—" A gasp nearly shakes you to your core when his fat tip pushes against your cervix in a way that has your thighs shaking, "—'m gonna come..."

Jason nods his head, shifting your body just a bit and he removes your legs from his shoulders, veiny hands wrapping around your ankles as he pushes your legs towards your chest. And he fucks you deeper, grinding against you before he breathes out.

"Play with your pussy for me." He sighs, lashes falling shut as he feels the way your cunt spasms when your fingers swipe over your clit in one of those experimental ways. Clearly, you're not good at masturbation but it's fine.

He'll teach you.

"Circles baby, circles." He guides sweetly. "The circles are gonna feel good while I fuck you."

Jason's lips press a kiss to the sock covered arch of your foot, his eyes laser focused on where you tease your clit, whines and mewls slipping past your lips until you gasp, toes curling and chest heaving.

And your hips twitch when you come, sucking him in with vigor as you soak the sheets beneath you and your hand moves, brushing along the expanse of his scar. And Jason's cock twitches needily, a whimper slipping past his lips before his hips stutter just a bit.

"Don't make me lose my rhythm." He huffs out, a shaky laugh leaving him as the dimples in his cheeks deepen.

You're like if the ocean was a furnace.

Squelchy sounds and lewd sloshy sounds with each buck of his hips and Jason bites his bottom lip as he feels his orgasm slowly build, his skin prickling with goosebumps and his nipples stiffen in a way that he just knows has your ego soaring.

"Shit, 'm gonna come soon." He grumbles, his hand leaving your ankle to card through his hair, pushing the damp strands out of his vision. And before his lips can part to ask where you want it, Jason's body shudders when your hand moves, wrapping around the base of him and he feels the way he gets just a bit lightheaded.

"Don't pull out, okay?"

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