#and mostly it will take your breath away | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

tonycries · 11 months ago

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Great With Kids? (You Can Have Mine) - C.K.

Synopsis. When your younger brother gets a new babysitter, only two questions linger on your mind: 1. How come your parents didn’t trust you in charge? 2. How dare the sexy babysitter be so perfect - it made you want some attention too.

Pairings. Choso Kamo x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, babysitter! Choso, male masturbation, voyeurism (from reader), Choso with nipple piercings and eyeliner hngh, unprotected, 69, choking, overstim, oral (male + female receiving), creampie, dirty talk, friends-to-lovers, Choso is down BAD and always has been, mentioned younger brother, swearing.

Word count. 9.0k

A/N. Gojo longfic next time because I miss my pretty blue-eyed princess.

Your younger brother’s new babysitter was hot.

With a capital h.

Scarily hot, in fact, that it made you wonder why the hell people stopped having babysitters past the age of 14.

Ah, Choso Kamo, the ever-elusive eldest son of the Itadori’s from next door. You still remember the first time you met him - well, mostly.

The world was rocking gently at exactly 12:34AM after a night out with your old high school friends. And so were you, stumbling tipsily into your driveway, soaking up the warm summer air.

Fumbling with the doorbell, you fully expected your parents to still be away on that extravagant couples’ cruise they’d won - one that probably cost more than your tuition.

Which also meant you expected the old lady from down the street to be babysitting tonight. Still wide awake and absolutely bursting at the seams to give you a detailed rundown about the neighborhood tea - who’s divorcing who, and her top suspects for who stole her prized garden gnome.

What you certainly did not expect was for that door to swing open and to find yourself face-to-face with the most ridiculously attractive man you’ve ever laid eyes on. Shirtless.

Dazed, your eyes involuntarily sweep his figure from head to toe - taking in every inch of those dark, sleep-mussed locks falling effortlessly around his slightly smudged eyeliner, all the way down to the chiseled- oh god, were those nipple piercings?

Alas, the universe isn’t on your side, and you don’t get to confirm, because suddenly the door slams right in your face, almost rattling off its hinges at the force. The sound echoes in your ears as you blink in disbelief at what the fuck that was. Was that real - was he real?

You double check the address you’ve known for years - just in case - because, hell, if you were dreaming then this was a damn good one. Taking a deep breath, you try to focus on something that won’t make your head spin before reaching for the door again.

But before your finger could even graze the doorbell, it cracks open once more. The same mysterious man towered before you, this time - you note, with a tinge of disappointment - wearing a snug t-shirt that still doesn’t do much to hide that godly physique.

“Not that m’complaining, but who’re you and why’re ya in my house?” you manage to slur out, voice betraying the shiver that runs down your spine at his intense gaze. He simply leans against the doorframe, arms crossed and expression unreadable.

“Choso,” he drawls lightly, eyes never leaving your face. Shit, even his voice was hot.

You nod slowly, mind racing as you blearily try to remember just where you’d heard that name before. Some family friend? Nah, you’d know him if that was the case. An actor? God, he sure had the looks.

Mercifully sensing your struggle, he clears his throat, snapping you out of your drunken reverie. “Not surprised you haven’t seen me around, sweetheart, but my parents live next door.” he offers, tone laced with amusement and something else you can’t place. “M’babysitting your brother for tonight.”

You almost don’t hear the second part of his explanation, because it hits you like a ton of bricks - oh shit, this was Choso? Choso either-a-hallucination-or-a-vampire Kamo?

In all your years of having the Itadoris as your neighbors, you’d only seen fleeting glimpses of their eldest son - a flash of black hair at the window, or a sculpted, tattooed arm waving off Yuji at the doorway. And, well, you didn’t know what exactly you’d anticipated. You just didn’t expect him to be so…hot. Or stand half-naked in front of you.

God, he made you more dizzy than the alcohol.

“Damn,” you mutter under your breath, more to yourself than anything. Yet Choso still hears, quirking an eyebrow, a ghost of a smile playing at the corners of his lips. “Everything alright there?” he hums, the hint of a tease in his tone. Smug bastard.

You nod your head, clutching onto the doorframe for support as you lean in closer. “Mhm, perfect.” Wait- was that a blush dusting his face? Damn, this dream just keeps getting better and better.

Liquid courage coursing through you, you bat your lashes, too tipsy to even attempt a wink, “Well, Choso, let me know if ya need any help babysitting, jus’ know I’m always down to-”

And then - perhaps to save you from the embarrassment of an awful pickup line - that’s when the universe decides to remind you of exactly how many kamikaze shots you’ve downed. The world lurches beneath you. Your hands scramble for something - anything - solid.

Ah, falling down really does feel good, especially when the ground is so warm, and soft. Smelling faintly of vanilla, with a hint of sunshine.

And then it’s all black.

To match his eyes.

---

The smell of vanilla still lingers in your mind as you slowly pry your eyes open, squinting against the harsh morning sunlight streaming in through your window. Groaning, you feel as though you’ve been run over by a truck. Five of them, in fact.

Trying to will away the pounding headache, you bury yourself deeper into the snug covers of…your bed…that you’ve been tucked into?

Oh shit. Sitting up with a gasp, you hastily try to rub away the sleep from your pointedly makeup-less eyes, remnants of last night now flooding back to you with a surge of embarrassment.

Choso. Shirtless. Babysitting. Shirtless. But most importantly - your awful display of drunken flirting. The man appears once in a blue moon and you hit on him? Perfect. Great. Wonderful.

And just as you’re entertaining the idea of convincing your parents to move neighborhoods, you realize with a jolt that he must’ve been the one that carried you up here and took care of you. Even after all of that.

With a sigh, you rub your temples, wincing as it throbs at the laughter carrying from downstairs - one of them so decidedly Choso. Deep voice ringing in your ears, you can almost feel the lingering traces of his strong arms holding you flush against his chest, or the warm hands gently wiping off your eye shadow.

And it seems Choso had a penchant for interrupting your barely-lucid thoughts, because the door creaks open, ripping through the heavy silence in your room. Heart in your throat, you startle as Choso carefully steps into your room, a soft smile playing on his lips.

“G’morning,” he says, voice so gentle that some small, strange part of you thinks you could listen to it forever. “Feeling any better?”

You offer him a sheepish grin, feeling a blush creep up your cheeks at the memory of your drunken antics. “Yeah, I think so. Thanks for... well, everything.”

Chuckling softly, his gaze softens as he steps closer, taking in your slightly-disheveled appearance. “It was the least I could do, sweetheart. Now, c’mon, your brother and I are making pancakes.”

You fidget nervously under his gaze, suddenly feeling self-conscious even as he turns to leave the room at your silence. Say it, you idiot. Say it.

“I’m sorry,” you blurt out, words tumbling out in a rush. “I didn’t mean to... y’know, act like a Victorian man seeing a woman’s ankles for the first time-”

“It’s al-”

“I swear I’ve seen ankles-”

A large hand cradling your cheek, his thick rings searingly cold against your chin as he tilts your chin up to meet his warm gaze - and those suspiciously red cheeks. “S’alright, sweetheart. I didn’t mind.”

And, well, if this was his way of shutting you up then by God was it effective. Because you didn’t trust yourself to speak even as Choso gives you an easy smile. Even as he withdraws his hand, the air thick with something you were too hungover to overthink about.

Not until he turns back to the door, flashing you a teasing smile, “Besides, it was kinda cute.”

And with that, Choso steps through the door with the audacity of someone that hadn’t uttered words that sent your mind reeling.

As the creak of the door echoes behind him, Choso’s warm touch still sears into your skin. Something hot and prickly pooling in your stomach. Only one thought rings clear in your hazy, still-hungover mind - one that makes your cheeks flare: this was going to be a very interesting summer.

You just didn’t realize how interesting it would be. Not until two weeks, four days, and sixteen hours after you first met Choso.

It starts out innocently enough, taking the early shift at your internship, volunteering to help with the chores - you find yourself subconsciously making excuses to be around him whenever he’s scheduled to babysit.

You’ve probably learned everything there is to know about the man by now - from the way he likes his eggs (sunny side up) to that time he accidentally dyed his brother’s hair neon pink while trying out a recipe for homemade hair dye.

Likewise, Choso happens to be the only one who knows that you were the one that accidentally caused that flood in your dorm that required five floors and two plumbers to resolve.

At this point, Choso’s at your house more often than not - where Choso is, there is you, and where you are, there is Choso. And your brother…and sometimes Yuji, but semantics.

“Semantics” are probably why you find yourself rushing home straight from your internship, ignoring every invitation for an after-work drink - to see your brother, of course. No other reason - definitely not because of the way Choso will inevitably be there too. Or because of the way his smile makes something strange coil in your stomach. Or-

Okay, maybe you speedwalked up your driveway faster than usual a little bit because of Choso. But as you’ve said - semantics.

Yet, sometimes you even think there’s a familiar flicker of something more in those dark eyes.

…

Nahhh.

Stepping into the yard, the air thick with the scent of freshly cut grass and the deafening sounds of splashing, a smile tugs at your lips at the awfully wholesome view that greets you.

Your brother and Yuji are locked in a fierce battle, water guns being brandished like the most seasoned warriors.

And Choso - towering over everyone else - was at the epicenter of the chaos, his laughter booming over the commotion. Shirtless. Again.

His bare, tattooed torso gleams in the light, muscles flexing with each movement as if sculpted by the gods themselves. Droplets of water glistening on his dark hair like diamonds in the fading light.

Traitorously, your cheeks burn as you step closer, desperately trying to rip your gaze from the milky abs peeking out and the tantalizing glint of metal winking so sinfully at you under the sun.

So he does have nipple piercings.

God, you have to get your mind out of the gutter.

As you approach, Choso’s grin widens, a playful sparkle dancing in his eyes. Without hesitation, he scoops up a large water balloon and takes aim, launching it with frightening accuracy in your direction.

The icy water hits you before the realization, and you squeal in surprise as the balloon connects right with your chest, seeping into your shirt. Glancing down with a startled laugh, you realize a moment too late that your once-pristine white shirt is now completely see-through.

Heat rushes to your cheeks, but the damage has been done. Smug bastard, you think, glancing up at Choso, slightly red-faced yet wearing a sly grin as he surveys the aftermath of his well-aimed shot.

“Shoulda just told me if you wanted a peak, you lecher. This shirt was expensive, y’know.” you call out, mock-glaring at the man that stood so infuriatingly beautifully in front of you.

Choso throws his head back in a laugh that makes something tingle all the way down from your toes to your burning cheeks. “Maybe you shoulda just kept your guard up, sweetheart,”

You scoff, “Maybe you should stop being a distraction then.”

His grin widens, reaching for another nearby water balloon, “S’not my fault you’re so easily distracted. No need to be a sore loser.”

“Oh, it’s on now.”

“Well, well, looks like we have a new contender in the water war,” Choso remarks mischievously to the kids, gesturing towards you. Yeah, really smug bastard.

Ah, what the hell. This shirt was on sale anyway.

---

Now, Choso knows you’re hot - always has.

Ever since that first day he moved in next door, when he stumbled upon you sunbathing in your backyard wearing that sinful bikini. And, well, after hours of moving boxes upon boxes of Yuji’s dumbbells, the mere sight of you was like the gates of heaven spread wide open for him.

But, especially now - all drenched and disheveled. Your shirt sticking to your curves like a second skin in all the ways that should be illegal - and also makes some strange part of him slightly jealous. Beaming smile directed right at him - shit, this might as well just be the final nail on his coffin. Death by you.

Amidst the chaos and confusion, you're a force to be reckoned with. Choso can barely tear his eyes off of you, breathless and victorious in pure adrenaline-fueled bravado, declaring “Beg for mercy and I’ll let you off easy, Choso.”

“Kinky, but absolutely not, sweetheart.”

Clutching a particularly large water balloon, raising your hand high high high - hurtling it straight at him with an unapologetic smirk, “Then, better run for your life.”

Oh? Maybe Choso was a masochi- what was that-

A flash of his favorite lacy pink, your poor buttons faltering at the sheer force of your throw. Choso doesn’t even feel the cold splash! square on his chest as he’s drenched icily from head to toe. Too transfixed.

Too focused on trying not to make it obvious he’s mentally calculating the chances of your shirt coming off altogether…

Eyes locked on the sliver of soft skin peeking out at him. Only registering you and the traitorous rush of heat flooding his cheeks - and his cock - as he averts his gaze, internally smacking himself for letting his thoughts wander into such dangerous territory.

Both thanking and cursing the gods above, Choso realizes with a pang that he’s not just screwed, he’s absolutely twisted, tangled, and tied up in knots.

So utterly screwed, in fact, that he probably needs to make a quick run to the bathroom now.

Like, right now.

Shit.

With a muttered excuse of a bathroom break, each step more urgent than the last, Choso can’t help but wonder if the water balloon incident was some sort of cosmic punishment for his wandering thoughts. Some divine intervention from his ancestors for being such a pussy around you all these years.

And as he slams that bathroom door closed, bunches his pants bunched underneath his heavy balls, and takes his throbbing cock in his hands, Choso thinks he might just see the gates of heaven - well, at least he’ll be able to give his ancestors a piece of his mind there.

With a groan, he leans against the closed door, eyes scrunching shut as he takes his swollen cock in his fist. Leaking hot precum and glistening in the dim bathroom light. He grips the base tightly, pulsing and achingly hard for you.

Cold rings searing against his skin, Choso wastes no time - wanting to get this over with and join you again more than anything - starting up a hasty, desperate pace up and down his length that makes his knees buckle. Tighter on the base, just teasing his furiously flushed tip. Pink. Pink to match your bra.

With you so sinfully soaked through, wearing that goddamn lacy bra out there, Choso wasn’t as strong a man to possibly get you out of his mind. He can’t help but imagine your sultry smile, how it would look wrapped around his cock.

Arm straining now, a shiver runs down his spine - all the way to his throbbing erection. “Shit.” he breathes, “J-jus’ like that, sweetheart.”

Head only filled with you, and your lips and you-

He milks his base tighter - would you take him all in one go? Look up at him with those beautiful, teary eyes as you choke around his cock?

One hand pulls in urgent, jerky little moves that have his hips bucking into his fist. The other reaches up muffle the fucked out moans leaving his swollen lips. God, it would take everything it had in him to not fuck up into your pretty lil’ mouth. Watch you cock-drunk and taking him so well.

Or maybe…

Eyes rolling to the back of his head, Choso fights back a groan as he reaches a hand up to teasingly thumb under his slit. Delicate beads of precum dripping onto the cold tile with a deafening drip! drip! drip! Smearing at the way he rubs maddening little circles under that one spot, grazing his sensitive veins.

Maybe you’d be a a fucking tease - run your tongue under his pulsing head so agonizingly slow. Knowing you, you’d probably pull away as soon as he bucks his hips into your mouth. Lips swollen and glossed prettily with his precum as you whisper, “Now now, baby. If you don’t act like a good boy then you won’t get to cum~”

“Sh-shit, hah-” Choso thinks he’s going insane, he can practically hear your hums as you kiss along his length, tongue darting out to trace his throbbing veins so obscenely. Flicking at his sensitive head. Eyes sparkling - ready to positively devour him.

All for him.

It’s too much.

“Ah- Ngh, fuck.” he moans hoarsely, letting out a low, fucked-out little call of your name. “More. Need m-more, sweetheart.”

Body shuddering violently, sweat dripping from his brow, Choso’s thighs quiver as he fucks his fist at an almost-animalistic pace. Chasing his release with reckless abandon.

Choso’s heart pounds wildly in his chest as he tries - and fails - to maintain control. Raspy whines of your name escape through the crevices of his fingers, cracking ever-so-slightly in a way he knows he’d be embarrassed about if he was in a better state of mind.

Giving up his futile attempt, long fingers snake down below to cradle his balls in a way he knows you’d do better. Tugging and pulling at a jerky rhythm that matches his hand.

Some tiny, practical part of his brain hopes - prays - that you won’t call off the water fight early and come up to check on him. He knows he should hurry up, he knows he’s fucked if you ever found out. Shit, he should bake you apology cookies tomorrow.

But fuck are so you perfect for him. Voice so pretty and eyes so warm as you turn your gaze to his undeserving self. He’d kill to see if you still look at him that way when - if - he absolutely ruins you.

Would you be able to take all of him? Would you pout adorably until he shoves his dick down your throat? Gagging as he hits the back of your throat over and over - oh how Choso would love to mess up your mascara. He’d fucking tattoo your lipstick stains on his dick if he could.

“Cum f’me, baby.” you’d mewl, and shit would he burn down this entire world to hear you call him that. “Mm, fill me up with your cum, wan’ taste you, baby-”

“Fuck,” he curses again, voice thick with need, and tight balls twitching so sensitively. “Fuck...fuck fuck fuck. M’gonna cum- shit- gonna cum, sweetheart.”

You - all see-through white shirts and lacy bras that drive him wild. Giggling with the audacity of someone who isn’t making him slowly lose his sanity. You with prettily lips painted white with his seed. Cum and saliva mixing into a lewd pool on the sterile tile as you suck the soul out of him.

You.

And then he’s cumming.

A raw, drawled-out keen of your name and he’s spilling into his fist. Thick, hot spurts of cum that paint his palms white in a way he wishes he could do to you. And behind his closed eyes all he sees is you - you you you-

You, dragging out his orgasm so torturously, lips decorated with his seed, dribbling down to your lacy pink bra, gushing so lewdly down your ready throat. You with your eyes dazed, lips swollen and quirking up into a fucked-out smile as he does so well for you - cumming, all for you.

You, with your wide eyes and disgust on your face as you realize just what he’d been doing on this suspiciously long “bathroom break”.

Shit.

Body still twitching with the shockwaves of probably one of the Top 5 orgasms of his life, Choso all but collapses against the bathroom door, panting heavily, utterly spent. For a moment, he lies there, wondering if this is what heaven truly felt like.

But as the euphoria of his high ebbs away into nothing but mere tingles, a slight wave of nausea crashes over him.

Sighing, Choso reaches for the paper towels, ready to clean up his mess. If only you were there to milk him dry then he wouldn’t have to-

…

God, he was definitely baking you apology cookies tomorrow.

Now, when it started drizzling shortly after Choso left, you took it upon yourself to usher the kids back home and hand over his t-shirt personally like the good samaritan you are - out of the goodness of your heart, of course.

Not for any reason whatsoever because you were hoping to get at least one more glimpse of those sinful nipple piercings up-close.

…

Okay, perhaps there was a slight ulterior motive involved.

Either way, what you’d expected was for a flash of silver as you handed over his drenched t-shirt. Or maybe that familiar easy smile to warm you up from the icy water.

Literally anything but to find yourself frozen outside the bathroom door, cunt dripping, and ears ringing with the muffled echoes of his pornographic groans.

At first, completely mortified, your fight or flight instinct had kicked in as you realized just what those rhythmic, fucked-out little grunts meant. Only for you to choose neither option - staying rooted to your spot with the utterance of one, simple, word - your name.

Confusion whirls in your mind almost as much as the throbbing in your cunt, knees weakening. Heart thumping louder and louder in your ears at each whine of your name. Shivers running down your spine - all the way to your wet cunt as it really sets in that this was Choso. And he was fucking his fist in your bathroom. To you.

And you didn’t mind?

In fact, you find yourself leaning against the door, thighs squeezing together - mere inches away from where you imagined him slumped against it. Soft strands sticking to his forehead, cock hot and heavy, aching for release. Ragged breathing as if caught off guard by the intensity of his own pleasure. Broken whispers of your name leaving him over and over-

Really, you know you should give him your privacy. But if the white-hot ropes of pleasure running up your spine are anything to go by then, well, is it really that bad?

You have half the mind to just reach down down down - just a little release. Almost jealous of Choso-

Click!

You’re sure you could rival Usain Bolt with the way you ran down those stairs. Cheeks flaring, his damp t-shirt still clutched tightly in your hand. Mind racing with only one thought - this little fuck wanted you just as badly as you wanted him.

---

You can barely remember what transpired after your little discovery. You couldn’t decide who looked more dazed - you or Yuji, who was being practically dragged out that front door as Choso exited hastily with vague mentions of baking and cookies

And in the ringing silence that followed after that front door slammed, you couldn’t help the smirk that found itself onto your face. This was going to be fun.

But if there’s anything you’ve learned about Choso - it’s that even after twenty-something years on planet Earth, that man can not take a hint.

You somewhat had an inkling after the fifth time you decided to sunbathe in just a skimpy bikini at exactly when you knew he’d be watching. Well, you might not have gotten any reaction other than an extremely flushed face at the window, but at least you knew he’d have more very fun bathroom breaks.

Hell, one time you even bought ice lollies for the whole house - but especially Choso. Making sure those dark eyes followed every lick and trail of it dripping down your fingers under the scorching summer sun. Ultimately resulting in nothing more but a heavy gulp and for his ice lolly to hit the grass faster than it could even begin to melt.

Ugh, should you get your brother to start another water fight? That went down well last time.

It’s only after another failed attempt at trying to get him alone and a few hours of deliberating whether you should ship your interrupting brother off on a cruise too that you realize you have to get out the big guns.

“The big guns” being stealthily organizing a sleepover for your brother at the Itadoris, then inviting Choso over for a movie night. Simple, right? And, well, if anyone asked, you could just say the movie just so happened to be rated R.

It wasn’t too hard to convince your brother that a sleepover with Yuji would be the best thing since sliced bread. The excitement in his voice palpable as he agreed, not suspecting a thing.

You just didn’t think it would be even easier to convince Choso to come over with a simple playful text of “Netflix no chill. Haha jk…unless?” But then again, when has Choso not surprised you?

And that night, as your brother eagerly headed off to Yuji’s place, you couldn’t help but feel a slight pang of guilt - but, hey, it was for a good cause, right?

It’s a win-win either way - your brother gets to spend the night with a friend and you get to be here, so achingly close to Choso on that couch. So close that you could feel the heat radiating off of him, stealing glances at his sharp profile as the conversation flows easily about the movie playing on screen.

Shifting ever-so-slightly closer, electricity crackling between you two was palpable. You smile in anticipation, after all - you weren’t lying about the movie being rated R.

Now, Choso certainly didn’t come over to your house tonight expecting a wholesome rerun of Cars 2. However, he also wasn’t expecting the blockbuster action movie to suddenly unfold into something so steamy.

Goddamn lecherous directors and their goddamn pervy movies.

Eyes firmly trained on the ground, instead of the actress currently fake-moaning dramatically onscreen, Choso tries to ignore the subtle shift of your hips or the way the temperature in the room has currently increased by about 10 degrees. Or the way your moans would sound a million times prettier in his ears.

Alas, Choso was not a strong man, and he especially tries to will away the blood rushing straight to his cock right now - but how could he? You were such a vision of temptation, so close and warm and close to him on the couch.

This was absolute torture.

“God, this is so painfully fake. Don’t you think so?” your voice rips through the deafening silence between you two, tone careful and balanced, startling Choso out of his little reverie.

His eyes flicker hastily to meet yours, and for a moment, he seems caught off guard by your sudden interruption. “Oh, yeah.” voice rough with a hint of nervousness. “I’ve seen better performances in middle school plays.”

You nod, the tension between you thickening as you lock eyes. “I mean, who even writes this stuff?” you continue, leaning in even closer to Choso, words positively dripping in sarcasm. “It’s like they’ve never actually had sex before.”

Choso lets out a shaky laugh, the sound strained as he shifts subtly in his seat - but not subtly enough. Because you catch the way he desperately tries to adjust his now-uncomfortably tight pants. Success.

“Yeah, exactly,” he clears his throat, ripping his gaze away from yours.

You study him for a moment under the dim lighting, noting the way his hands clench and unclench in his lap, the rapid rise and fall of his chest as he struggles to control his breathing. He was nervous. Nervous and horny - exactly where you wanted him.

A sudden rush of adrenaline courses through your veins, and you lean even closer to the man. Not even a hair’s breadth between you two - you relish in his strangled gasp as your tits press so enticingly against his arm.

“Choso, just a thought.” you hum casually, lips mere inches from his ear. “Wanna recreate the scene better?”

His breath hitches at your words, muscles rippling so deliciously beneath your touch. “Do you know what you’re saying?” he rumbles, lowly. Eyes darkened and unreadable.

You smile, heart pounding against your chest as your lips brush against his earlobe. “Absolutely.”

It was like something snapped.

Because then he’s kissing you. And you’re kissing him. Because goddammit you haven’t spent the last month sneaking glances at those pretty lips for nothing.

Movie completely forgotten, Choso is warm under your touch - all sculpted chest and urgent pulses as his lips kiss you dizzyingly. Groaning lowly as your arms wrap around his neck, pulling him impossibly closer.

He breathes you in with an infectious desperation that bleeds into his hands, wandering every inch of your skin - as if he didn’t have enough time. And he probably didn’t. Distantly, Choso thinks that no time in the world would be enough to absolutely fucking wreck you the way he wanted to.

Large, hurried hands grope your chest, squeezing so teasingly in a way that almost made you think he was trying to feel out what bra you were wearing - lacy pink. His favorite, of course.

You minx.

Urgently tugging the hem of your tight shirt over your arms, Choso tosses it god-knows-where. Mouth watering as he pulls away to greedily take in the heavenly view of your heaving chest - the same one he’s shamelessly fucked his fist to for too long.

God, you were perfect. With a soft, little oh! Choso leans down to leave hot, open-mouthed kisses on every bit of exposed skin he could reach. Nipping, and tugging lightly. Relishing in the way you whine for his lips again.

Threading a hand through his soft hair, you lightly pull him back to you. Breath fanning his face, lips ghosting over his own.

“Kiss me, you fool.”

And, well, Choso didn’t have to be asked twice. Molding his mouth against yours once more. Letting your lips part, you intertwine your tongue so sinfully with his. He tastes just like he looks - so intoxicatingly delicious.

With a breathy sigh, he lightly taps the curve of your ass. Hands lingering for far longer than necessary, kneading the flesh in a way that has your skin searing.

You get the signal. Urgently, you loop your legs around his waist. “Choso- bed.” you whisper, muffled in-between kisses. “Now.”

Shivers run down your spine at the way he chuckles darkly, “Honestly, sweetheart. I don’t even hah- know if we’ll make it there.” Mumbling against your lips, “Would you kill me if I take you right here right now?”

“I’ll kill you if you don’t fucking do something.” you hiss, words dripping in desperation. Ah, but Choso, ever the merciful man, shuts up whatever other retort on the tip of your tongue with his own. Kissing you with almost-bruising intensity as he gets up from his seat. Strong arms securely wrapped underneath you, holding you flush against his warm skin.

Choso doesn’t pull away even once as he hastily makes the route to your room. And honestly, with the speed at which your back hits the soft mattress, bouncing at the sheer force at which you two fell on top, you wouldn’t even be surprised if he teleported there.

Now safely in the confines of your room, you all but rip off Choso’s snug t-shirt. Those familiar obscene nipple piercings winking at you under the dim lighting in greeting.

“Always wanted to do this.” you murmur, surging forward as if on autopilot. Lips latching delicately onto the pretty pink nipples, tasting the cold metal on your tongue.

“Oh- oh, fuck. A-always knew you had a thing hah- f’my piercings, sweetheart.” Choso breathes out, letting you have your fun. His favorite bra now at the foot of your bed. Fingers deftly sneaking under your skirt, blood rushes straight to his cock as he feels the positively soaked state of your panties - if you could even call them that.

Sanity snapping, he immediately flings off your skirt. Throwing it somewhere across the room with no care or concern for where it ends up. All so he could look down at oh-

Oh god, if you had to describe Choso’s face as he takes in the sight before him - it would be absolutely losing his sanity. Your pussy dripping and clenching around nothing - all for him.

Strings of slick trail down your thighs as Choso hooks one, long finger under your slutty g-string, tugging impatiently.

You keen as the cold air hits your dripping cunt. Yet Choso’s eyes stay locked hungrily on the sticky fabric intertwined around his fingers “Guess you were expecting this, huh?” he murmurs, voice thick with desire.

Scoffing, you buck your hips up for something - anything. “I’ve been wanting to fuck you since that first night I hit on you, y’know,” you admit, the heady air of your room melting away any reservations you had previously.

And that seems to snap Choso out of his trance - eyes flickering over to you, darkened with something so carnal that it makes your cunt throb. “Oh yeah?” he mumbles, swiftly stuffing the g-string in his pocket before leaning down, hot breath hitting your ear. “Now, what was that pick-up line you were gonna say that night?”

You gasp in embarrassment, heat flooding to your cheeks at the memory. “Wha- that doesn’t matter. I was drunk and-”

Smack!

The delicious sting on your ass hits you before the realization that Choso smacked you. He smacked you. Even later do you realize that you like it - slick beading so obscenely at your sloppy hole.

“What was it, sweetheart?”

You shudder at the tone that leaves no room for argument. The words tumbling out of you as Choso caresses soothingly over the handprint on your ass. “I- it’s stupid. I was gonna say that I’m down to sit on your face, baby.”

“Thought so,” he grins, pulling away from the dizzying proximity. Shifting - well, more like manhandling - you to flip positions.

God, you could almost sink into his muscles as he lays back on your bed. Voice low and dangerous as he utters words that go straight to your dripping pussy, “Now, sit on m’face.”

And before you know it, you find yourself hastily straddling Choso’s pretty face. Hands snaking down his milky abs, lips kissing along his tattoos, catching purposefully on his sensitive nipples.

Warm breath fanning your quivering cunt, he reaches up to cup your ass, nudging your needy core to his mouth. Kneading. Groping.

Not stopping his ministrations even when your slick oozes slowly, torturously through your swollen folds and onto his awaiting tongue. A maddening drip! drip! drip! ringing in your ears above your thundering heartbeat.

Choso groans at the mouthwatering sight above him. You - spread so shamefully open for him and clenching around nothing.

“Luckily for you, sweetheart, wanted you to sit on m’face ever since I saw you.” sweet juices flowing down his throat, words muffled against your throbbing lips.

He barely even gets the words out before he’s surging forward. Licking a long, languid stripe up your heated folds. Again. And again. Faster at the pretty moans that spill from your lips.

Pushing his tongue in between your slit, past that first, tight ring of muscle. Bullying it deeper and deeper. Chin pressing against your throbbing clit, ravaged at each movement of his face.

He caresses your warm walls, relishing so filthily at the way you clamp down on him in surprise. “Hngh- oh shit, baby. Ah-”

Your sweet moans are music in his ears and shit - you called him “baby”. It’s as if every wet dream he’s ever had has come to life as Choso dips in and out at a ruthless pace. Pulling out to tease your dripping entrance, pushing past mercilessly into your plushy walls. In and out in and out in and out-

His cock strains so painfully against his pants at the way your sloppy hole sucks his tongue in so obscenely - almost as if it hurts to part. Tongue fucking you the way he wishes he could with his cock right now.

“Oh- Hah- Choso! Fuck, baby. S’good.” your body arches into his absolutely depraved tongue.

Desperate whines spilling incessantly from your mouth at the way he quirks his tongue up just right to graze that spot he knew would have you grinding down on him for more. “Ah! Right there - jus’ like that!”

As if he knew exactly how to drive you wild. Exactly how to break you. You almost don’t notice the mindless, shallow little thrusts of his hips into your open palm. Almost.

Eyes snapping open at the tremors, you reach a hand across his quivering thighs. All the way down towards the very obvious dark patch on his pants - right where his furiously hard tip was leaking thick, relentless precum that made your mouth water.

Oh, how you’d kill to taste him - see if the rest of him is as intoxicating as his mouth is.

So you do.

Choso was so pussy-drunk in-between your thighs that you think he barely notices the way you fumble with his belt. Shakily pulling those pants down just enough to glimpse the rock-hard erection that those boxers do nothing to hide.

“Shit,” you whisper, voice strained with need.

You always imagined Choso had a big cock - but this was ridiculous. Your pussy clenches in both nervousness and anticipation as you imagined the delicious stretch of him splitting you apart on it. Breaking you.

And that’s probably when Choso notices - you clamping down so filthily on his tongue.

“Oh?” he rasps, voice sending white-hot vibrations of pleasure right up your spine. “Didn’t think you were so desperate for my cock, sweetheart. Gon’ make me cum, hm?”

Now, you’ve always thought of yourself as a woman of action rather than empty words. Which is probably why you urgently pull down his boxers. Choso’s painfully hard erection springs out, hitting his lower abs.

You take a moment to admire the long, heavy cock in your hands - a deliciously pretty pink on top, furiously leaking glistening precum. Saliva pooling in your mouth - you shove it as far down your throat as you possibly could.

Oh, how many times in his life has Choso imagined this moment right here. In the shower, right before bed, right after waking up too. You’re really a dream come to life.

A startled, strangled moan of your name leaves Choso’s kiss-bitten lips as you take him all in one go. Only to pull back and spit once- twice on his throbbing cock. The steady stream of spit cool - followed so maddeningly by the warm heat of your mouth once more. You start up a torturous, filthy pace bobbing your head up and down on his cock.

He strains his head to catch a glimpse - even just one - of your nose pressed against his pelvis. Breathing in the heady scent at the tufts of hair at the bottom, already wet with precum and spit. His dirty girl.

Popping off with a lewd squelch, “Feels good, baby?”

“Feels perfect.”

But he wasn’t gonna fall far behind.

Immediately attaching his lips with yours once more, Choso dives nose-deep in your dripping cunt. Rolling your throbbing clit in between his lips. Flicking his tongue along the sensitive bud in a way that makes your head feel so light. He alternates between a slow, languid torture on your clit and fucking into you unforgivingly.

Your movements stutter as you teasingly lick at his sensitive slit. The salty flavor of his precum is probably your favorite taste now. That bastard.

Reaching down, you cup his heavy balls, massaging the tender flesh in harsh, hasty circles that match your mouth down his length - up and down up and down up and-

Muffled moans and lewd squelching filling the heated room. A rhythmic, sinful cadence that both of you were losing your sanity to. Movements more frantic now. Desperate to make the other cum. Desperate to be first.

Letting out soft, raw grunts, Choso fucks up his throbbing erection into your mouth. Your eyes water as his tip abuses the back of your throat. And it makes you wish you could see how messy he looked right now. All smudged eyeliner and slick-glossed lips.

Gagging around him, a mixture of drool and precum drips sinfully down the corner of your mouth as you increase your pace, pooling messily on his lower abs. Sloppy - so sloppy.

So it only made sense that your orgasms were the same.

Pleasure dizzyingly overwhelming, you gush around Choso’s mouth with a stifled squeal. Stars behind your eyes, vision blurring, mind blanking - the only things you register being the languid tongue lapping up at your sweet juices and the guttural groan of what sounds like your name as Choso shoots thick, hot spurts of his cum down your throat.

Throat burning as the salty taste fills your senses, you milk his cock for more more more- his dick pulsing and stuttering in your mouth. Cum staining the fresh sheets below - a problem for later.

Right now all you were focused on was riding out your high, grinding almost animalistically on Choso’s pretty face.

You’ve barely removed yourself from him with a lewd pop! before Choso’s wrestling you back onto the mattress. Two fingers squishing your cheeks into an embarrassing pout, cold rings digging into your skin. The other hand snaking in between your thighs to play with your still-twitching cunt.

“Didn’t say we were done yet, sweetheart.” he mutters. You weren’t done - no, far from it. Because fuck a refractory period - both of you were going to take all you could get.

And before you can think of anything else, Choso is leaning down, hand prying your lips apart for him into a brutal kiss. Teeth clashing, lips bruising. He forces his tongue down your throat. Tasting himself before you barely get a chance to taste him as well.

“Hah- fuck-” you flinch as he swears into your bruised lips. “So fuckin’ sweet. You taste so good sweetheart.” The sheer debauchery and ache of his cock too much for him.

Tasting him. Tasting you. Both a heady flavor that leaves you yearning for more.

You bite down on his bottom lip in retaliation, relishing in the drawn-out groan that rumbles into your mouth at this. The kiss is feral. It’s animalistic. It leaves you feeling so fucking dirty.

And you barely recognise the dazed, predatory glint in Choso’s eyes as he pulls away, his mind clearly miles away as he spits once. Twice. Three times on your face.

The wads of saliva and cum hit your face with a warm, wet jolt. You whine at the way it seeps into your skin, dripping down your cheeks so fucking obscenely. Pooling at the sheets below in a way that makes you feel sorry for whoever had a shift at the laundromat tomorrow.

“Now, what do we say, sweetheart?”

A fucked-out, delirious smile tugs at the corner of your lips as you realize - yeah, you wouldn’t have it any other way. “Thank you.”

Not even when Choso lets out a dark chuckle, throwing your legs over his sculpted shoulders and manhandling you so that you’re splayed out so shamefully for him. Dripping cunt spread for his greedy gaze and clenching around nothing - aching for him. Begging for him.

Not even when he lines up his still-rock hard cock at your entrance, tip - angry and red - weeping so desperately as he nudges at your sloppy hole. Dragging his head along your folds collecting every bead of slick, just grazing your pulsing clit. Every muscle in your body trembling and anticipating what was to come.

You mewl at the stretch as he presses in - deliciously painful, boderling insane, and exactly what you wanted right now. Splitting you apart on his throbbing cock.

And especially not when he bottoms out inside you in one, harsh thrust. Burying himself inside your sloppy walls till his twitching balls smack against your ass.

“Ah- hngh- oh fuckkk.” you keen in both pain and pleasure - broken, raw moans leaving you uncontrollably. But not for long, because suddenly Choso’s shoving two ringed fingers in your mouth, bullying their way inside till you’re gagging and moaning around them.

Pressing right at that spot on the back of your tongue that makes your eyes tear up so prettily. Hey, if he couldn’t see you choking on his cock properly, the least he could do is see you choking on his fingers, right?

“Now now, wouldn’t want anyone else to hear, hm? Our brother’s would get worried.” he chuckles. Pure, dark amusement in his eyes as he takes in your swollen lips, the teartracks down your cheeks, how utterly beautiful and debauched you look underneath him. So much better than any lust-hazed imagination of his.

And yet, even when you’re being gagged and split apart on his cock, you find it in yourself to be mouthy. Words muffled around his thick fingers as you raise a brow. “There’s no one else home, though?.”

The corners of Choso’s lips lift into a devilish grin, “The neighbors, sweetheart.”

His tone is teasing, but there’s an undercurrent of seriousness that sends a chill down your spine. He’s just joking, right? Right?

“Wha-”

And probably because he was losing his patience - and partly to shut you up - Choso begins to move.

Pushing past the resistance, beginning to fuck into you in shallow, uncontrollable movements of his hips. Just little motions to get him off, groaning at how sinfully tight you were - the way you were sucking him up so good.

Next time, Choso thinks, reaching down a hand to draw tight, little circles on your poor, abused clit - next time he’ll fuck you right. Hours upon hours of teasing you so you don’t know what it feels like when you’re empty without him.

But fuck does he think he could just about pass out right now.

There’s no going back now. Choso fucks you in a way that makes you feel so deliciously filthy. Plunging into your heated cunt with no restraint. Thrusts positively savage.

Pulling all the way back so that his leaking tip just barely kisses your sloppy entrance, slamming down down down, Choso fucks you at a merciless pace. Relishing the delicious stretch of your cunt as he thrusts into you with a desperation that surpasses the need for reason.

“Sh-shit, sweetheart. God, s’tight. better than I ever could’ve imagined.” he moans breathlessly, brows furrowing, eyes rolling to the back of his head, the feeling of you milking the absolute soul out of him just too much.

“Oh, yeah- wanted this for so long-”

You yelp every time he rams his cock into you, the smacking of his toned pelvis against your thighs stinging almost as deliciously as his tip kissing your cervix. The obscene slapping of skin on skin makes your cheeks burn - both pairs as his heavy balls smack against your ass each time he shoves his throbbing cock into you.

And because you can’t leave him alone, of course, you find your nails digging harshly into his muscled shoulders.

Pulling him impossibly closer. You want more. You need more.

Maybe you say those words out loud - you don’t even know anymore, too delirious and cock-drunk from Choso and your last orgasm and Choso - because his eyes widen ever-so-slightly, mouth falling open into a small oh. Your cunt twitches at the surprised, fucked-out little laugh that leaves him, “More? My sweetheart wants more?”

And, as you’ve come to learn with Choso - anything you want, you will get.

“Then fucking- take it.” he grunts lowly, each word punctuated by a harsh thrust of into your plush walls that sends both of you spiraling deeper and deeper into insanity.

And God does he make you take it. Every inch of him fills you, stretching you beyond your limits - both your cunt and your senses as he leans down to bury his head into your neck, hips moving so sloppily, hiking your leg further up his shoulder. The change in angle making you see stars.

Your hips buck up in tandem with his, uncontrollable little ah! ah! ah! leaving you at each thrust. You whimper in pleasure and overstimulation into the heady room, “Yes. Yes yes yes- wan’ cum. Need more. Need you-”

“Fuck- Hngh-” is all he manages to gasp out, pleasure overwhelming his sensitive cock. Choso’s balls twitch almost painfully as they keep smacking your ass. Brain still not keeping up with his body because shit, this is all he’s wanted for years, the least he could do is make you cum before him.

“Sh-shit, sweetheart.” he rasps into your heated skin, “So close- m’ so close.”

You all but sob at his words, “M’too- hngh- ah, m’gonna cum, baby.”

You didn’t expect the petname to be what breaks him, but then again you didn’t think there was anything more left to break. Because Choso groans gutturally, cock twitching inside you “Shit, you’re driving m’crazy, y’know that?”

“I know.” you mewl, voice breaking at the way he increases his frenzied pace on your clit. You could barely even call them circles, just filthy little movements to get you closer and closer to the edge. So close. You writhe beneath him, desperate for release.

And what you didn’t expect was for Choso to connect his sweaty forehead with yours. You take a second to admire just how beautiful he is - all smudged eyeliner, tousled hair, your release still shining on the lower half of his face, and yours. All yours. You could probably stare at the sight forever.

Choso’s hot breath fans your face as he moans breathlessly against your lips, words slurring together as he ruts into you mindlessly, “Always did, y’know?”

“I know.”

“No- y’don’t hah- understand, I- for so long fuck- I-”

“Choso, just kiss me.”

And then you’re kissing him. And he’s kissing you like you’re the most precious thing on Earth. A slow, tender little dance that doesn’t match the way he rams his cock inside you.

And then you’re cumming. Stars behind your eyes - or maybe those were tears - clamping down desperately on the harsh, jerky movements of his glistening cock that fuck you so sinfully like his little slut.

White-hot pleasure runs down your spine, or maybe that was Choso - painting your insides the prettiest white you’ve ever seen. Shooting thick, hot ropes of his seed into your waiting pussy. A creamy ring forming around his base as he spills his cum into your snug cunt as he moans against your lips.

It’s messy. It’s sloppy. And as Choso fills you to the brim, hips still unforgiving, seed dribbling out of your dripping pussy at the way it was so overfilled - you think that it’s all you could ever want.

As his cock twitches finally, exhaustedly - and you distantly wonder how the fuck it isn’t seizing up - Choso collapses onto you, thoroughly fucked-out. Finally pulling out with an obscene squelch, you hiss lowly at the pool of cum that forms beneath you. Gushing out of you sinfully.

A weighty silence in the air as you both try to catch your breaths.

In the haze of your orgasm you realize that even after all that transpired, he still isn’t laying his full bodyweight on you.

Too afraid to break you.

To break whatever this tender little understanding in the air was.

And it makes some part of your heart clench so delightfully. Subconsciously, you thread a hand through his damp hair, breathing in that familiar smell of vanilla and sunshine - and the heady scent of something so Choso. It makes you intertwine your body so impossibly close with his, not knowing where one of you ends and the other starts.

“My parents are coming home tomorrow.” you start, casually.

“Mhm. But I’ll still be around here, sweetheart.” Choso rumbles into the crook of your neck. Kissing soothingly over the marks he’d made in the heat of the moment - some carnal little part of him proud of the way you looked like you were fucking thrown to a pack of wolves.

Words hiding a tense little fear beneath them as you probe further. Something prickly and scared rolling around in your stomach. “For babysitting?”

“Nope.”

Settling deeper into the covers, basking in the afterglow of him. You know you should get up and clean, but right now this was all you wanted. And maybe no other words were needed.

“God, am I glad your parents aren’t home.”

Except maybe those.

You chuckle as you pull back to stare into those deep, dark eyes. Cheeks flaring at the tender little warmth in them much more than they had when he was fucking you so sinfully. A devious idea coming to mind - because now that you got a taste, you were absolutely hooked.

Choso Kamo was absolutely intoxicating.

“Well, we still have time so how about-”

A distant click!

“Honey, we’re home~!”

Shit.

A/N. Fun fact this was originally supposed to be called Timeout! but it was giving too much me during beep test.

Plagiarism not authorized.

#choso x reader #choso smut #choso x you #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jjk x you #choso kamo x reader #choso kamo smut #choso kamo x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x you #jjk #jjk fic #jujutsu kaisen #choso #tonywrites #choso kamo

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plutotheplum · 1 month ago

Text

Frosted Brushes

leon kennedy x fem!reader

summary: an ill-timed snowstorm leaves you snowed in with a less than enthusiastic federal agent.

cw: nsfw (18+) - mdni!!, smut, bestfriend's older brother!leon, kissing, oral sex, face-sitting, vaginal fingering, p in v, spanking, mild choking

wc: 5.5k

a/n: i know i promised blurred lines pt2 (it's coming) but i just loveee the snowed in trope. also leon's biceps - i love his biceps <3

also on ao3!

Getting snowed in wasn't exactly on your bucket list.

It’d been a mistake, your best friend had said, her voice anxious and apologetic on the phone as she’d tried to make up for the fact that she’d left you stranded here, in the middle of nowhere in a cabin that she had booked. You were only meant to stay here over the week of Christmas and fly back the next, but she’d conveniently forgotten to book tickets for both you and Leon. It’d been too late by then, a vicious snow storm rolling in and ruining all your chances of trying to leave.

You’d stared out the windows for a concerning amount of time, mourning the loss of your upcoming paychecks and not being able to sleep in your own bed. Outside, the snow was packed in tight and you’d been half-tempted to just grab the snow shovel and clear a path for yourself, but the howling wind coupled with the freezing temperature didn’t seem to agree with your plans. The only thing saving you from this woeful situation was the generator that was still up and running.

The federal agent currently lounging on the couch wasn’t helping either. You’d known Leon since you were children, mostly seeing him around the house when you’d come over to play with your best friend. He had kept to himself all those years ago, shooting you fleeting glances and berating you when you’d gotten too loud playing.

Boredom makes your temples throb and the thought of reading through another book makes you feel nauseous, so you settle on approaching Leon, flopping down on the other end with a heavy sigh.

“Hey,” you say, your feet nudging his thigh, “can’t you call up one of your buddies and have ‘em pick us up?”

“That’s not how it works,” Leon sighs, his eyes flitting down to stare irritatedly at your fluffy sock covered feet.

“What good is being a federal agent then?” you drawl, head tipping back over the armrest.

Leon rolls his eyes, shoving your feet away. You grumble, tucking your feet back under you before scooting forward to peer at whatever work on his laptop screen.

“Classified,” Leon says shortly, turning the screen away from you.

“Seriously, Leon?” you say, crossing your arms over your chest. “It’s not like I’m going to leak government secrets to a foreign enemy.”

“You might ,” Leon grits out, sending you a glare as you try to twist your body to take another look.

“Maybe I should be flattered that you think me capable of treason.”

Leon snorts, his eyes glancing over towards you again. “You wouldn’t last a day in the field, dork. Most likely end up getting yourself killed, or maybe even blown up.”

You glare at him, shifting again, making sure to dig your feet into his thigh a little harder as you roll over onto your side on the couch. Leon lets out a low hiss, growing irritated with your petulant behavior. He doesn’t shove your feet away like before so you settle on staying in that position, eyes slipping shut. A tiny sprig of hope unfurls inside of you; maybe if you tried hard enough, you’d be able to sleep the entire snowstorm away.

The weather doesn’t seem to let up, the wind howling outside, a chill beginning to creep into the cabin. You huff out an exasperated breath, eyes peeking open to sneak a glance at Leon. He looks engrossed in whatever he’s doing, fingers tapping against the keyboard, his brows drawn together.

Perhaps you’d struck out, getting stuck here with Leon. Sure, the federal agent stuff was mildly interesting, but he was more like a silent, grumpy lump. It sort of helped that he had a nice face, even if just to stare at.

“‘m cold,” you mumble, sock-clad toes trying to worm under his thighs, seeking out his warmth.

“Stop complaining,” Leon grouses, nudging your legs away with his hand.

“You’re so mean,” you shoot back, eyes narrowing. “Is it because you got stuck with a desk job?”

Leon glares at you, his touch growing rougher as he grabs your ankle and throws your leg away from him. A yelp escapes you, body bending awkwardly before you straighten yourself up, curling up away from him.

“I’m a field agent,” Leon hisses, snapping his laptop shut.

You shoot him an unimpressed look, eyes flitting over him. “I don’t see a gun.”

“Yeah and it’s a good thing I didn’t bring it, because I would shoot you if I had the chance.”

A sharp scoff leaves you, arms crossing over your chest as you stand up. “You’re such a piece of sh-”

A loud screeching noise cuts you off, your brows furrowing as you glance towards the direction the sound was coming from. It doesn’t take long to figure out what’s happened when the lights in the cabin go out after a moment, the interior lit up by the flickering embers of the hearth.

“Great,” Leon murmurs, standing up and walking towards the large windows, his eyes landing on the generator, “it’s probably frozen.”

You trail after him, a frown pulling at your lips as you stare out at the snowy tundra surrounding you in every direction.

“Is there no way to fix it?” you ask, fingers pressing up against the window.

“Maybe if we got rid of the snow,” Leon sighs, his hand running through his hair, “but the cold would probably just make it freeze up again.”

“Time to get shovelling,” you murmur, peering up at Leon.

Leon’s gaze flicks towards you, his lips thinning. “I’m not going out there.”

“What?” you ask snappily, irritation prickling across your skin, “why not?”

“Because I’ll freeze to death,” he retorts, “didn’t you watch the weather report?”

You stare at him, eye twitching at his refusal. At this rate, both of you would freeze to death if you weren’t able to get the generator up and running. You didn’t particularly trust the insulation either, although there was enough wood stocked in the spare room to maybe get you through the rest of the nights here.

“So what are you suggesting?” you ask, “that I go out and do it?”

“If you’re desperate enough,” he mutters under his breath.

“You’re the man!” you protest. “Shouldn’t you like protect me or something?”

Leon scoffs, his arms crossing over his chest as he stares down at you derisively. “You’re on your own, pipsqueak. Each man for themselves.”

“Oh, fuck you,” you snarl, stomping over to the door and yanking a jacket off of its hook. You shrug it on angrily, zipping it up tight before wrapping a scarf around your neck. “You’re pathetic, Leon!”

You grab the snow shovel, moving to open the door, only for it to not budge. There’s a moment of silence and you don’t dare look back at Leon. Setting the snow shovel down, you tug at the door handle, yanking hard.

“Please open,” you whisper, trying to wrench the door open, “please.”

By the time you’re done grumbling and yanking, the door’s only response is a pitiful groan, failing to give way at all, completely and utterly frozen shut.

“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me,” you mutter, glancing at the hinges of the door.

“Frozen in,” Leon drawls, stepping up behind you, “who would’ve thought? You know, you looked pretty pathetic trying to open it up.”

You turn around to face him, biting the inside of your cheek to prevent yourself from spewing a slew of curses at him. Your best friend would pay dearly for this debacle. Pushing past Leon, you stride purposefully into the room you were staying in, pulling free the sheets before managing to haul the mattress off of the bed frame.

Leon watches with raised brows as you lug the mattress across the floor. You dump it onto the space just in front of the fireplace, brushing your hair out of your face before disappearing into your room again to gather the sheets and blankets.

“At least you’re resourceful?” Leon offers, following suit as he adds his mattress next to yours soon after.

The absence of heat becomes all the more apparent as the night creeps in, your body shivering and teeth chattering every now and then despite the layers you’re wearing. You and Leon settle on soup for dinner, placing the cans near the fireplace to heat them up.

“Maybe we’ll just freeze to death,” you sigh, tugging the blanket draped around your shoulders a little tighter.

Leon hums, glancing over at you. “Maybe.”

You roll your eyes at his short response, padding through the cabin and into the dark bathroom. No generator meant no lights and you weren’t willing to risk using your phone or the flashlights lest the battery ran out.

“Ouch,” you grumble when your hip hits the side of the sink, your eyes squinting in an attempt to adjust to the dark.

You’re too busy rubbing your hip to notice the dark shadow stepping into the bathroom. There’s an arm landing on your waist and you shriek, hand flying out to smack whoever it is.

“Careful,” Leon groans when he feels you grab at his face, feeling around blindly.

“What are you doing?” you hiss, pushing at his chest.

“Keeping you company,” he shoots back, “not like there’s anything for me to do other than stare at the fire.”

“Don’t tell me you’re scared,” you say, managing to turn the tap on. The water is entirely too cold, but thankfully not yet frozen. You hunch over, splashing some onto your face.

“Funny,” Leon replies drily, his hand slipping lower to hold your hip as you bend over.

Your breath hitches at the action and you hope Leon doesn’t notice, especially with the way you tremble when his hand smooths over your waist absentmindedly. Leon’s touching doesn’t seem to let up and you turn around in his arms, fingers prodding into his chest.

“Stop touching me, you creep.”

Leon lets out a heavy sigh, his hands falling away from you. You manage to bundle out of the bathroom, finding his eyes in the dim lighting. He stares down at you, and you tilt your head in question.

“Nothing,” he huffs out, shoving your face away with his hand.

You grumble, swatting his hand away, padding over to your makeshift bed near the fireplace. Despite the warmth of the fire, you still shiver, and snuggling in under the heap of blankets.

Leon’s footfalls are quiet as he makes his way over, settling down on his own mattress. Silence passes over you both until a sneeze tickles at your nose, making your eyes water.

“Are you still cold?” Leon asks quietly.

“Nothing I can’t handle,” you mumble back, curling up your toes in your socks, trying to bury yourself deeper under the blankets.

You miss the way Leon rolls his eyes, a squeak leaving you when you feel strong arms looping around your waist, tugging you across onto Leon’s mattress. His chest is warm against your back, the layers of blankets growing with the two of you now pressed together.

“Let- let go of me,” you grouse, trying to unlatch his arms from around you.

“No can do, pipsqueak,” he replies, keeping you close, “my sister will kill me if anything happens to you. Besides, I know you gotta little thing for me.”

“I do not have a thing for you,” you scoff, your denial sharp. You squirm in his arms, managing to roll onto your other side to face him. “That would be gross, Leon.”

“Yeah?” Leon murmurs, his eyes drifting across your face, “you didn’t think it was gross when you told my sister you’d like to sit on my face.”

You sputter, embarrassment making your cheeks go hot. Suddenly, the chill of the snowstorm seems to fade, replaced by a heat that seems unbearable, Leon’s skin warm against yours.

“I- I did not say that!” you protest, trying to squirm out of his arms again but to no avail.

“I overheard you,” he sighs, rolling his eyes when you try to swat at his face.

“Well, fine,” you admit begrudgingly, stopping your struggling. “But you aren’t special . I could name five other guys off the top of my head that I’d enjoy.”

“Ouch,” Leon replies, his eyes boring into yours. “‘m wounded, pipsqueak.”

You send him a glare before snuggling closer, your face shoving into his chest. Leon lets out a rough laugh, his grip on you loosening. Silence passes over you and the warmth settles down to something more cozy, making your eyes droop shut.

“Could be fun.”

“What?” you mumble sleepily.

“Could be fun if you sat on my face.”

You peek up at him, taken aback. “Have you lost your mind, Leon?”

His lips purse as he considers your words, shrugging his shoulders lazily. “Gotta kill the time somehow,” he yawns.

“‘m not sleeping with you, jerk,” you reply, trying to ignore the fact that Leon, grumpy federal agent Leon , was offering to eat you out.

He sighs, muttering something incoherent that you can barely pick up on. It doesn’t help that Leon’s managed to ruin your sleep, the image of Leon’s head between your thighs popping into your mind. Could be fun .

Leon’s already staring at you when you look back up at him, his brows raising when you play with the strings of his hoodie, twirling and twisting them.

“Do you want to?” you ask.

He considers your words, running his hand through his hair. “I could use the practice. It’s been a while.”

“I’m not a training dummy, Leon,” you retort, but Leon’s already moving, the blankets around you shifting as he pulls them off, grabbing at your sock and pajama pants. “You said it could be fun .”

“Practice can be fun,” he replies drily, pulling your pajama pants off.

You shiver when the cold hits your skin, goosebumps erupting all over immediately. Leon’s hands are warm when he slides them over your legs, his head lowering to take a look at your panties.

“Cute,” Leon murmurs, finger pulling at the band before letting the fabric snap back against your skin.

“H- hey!” you stop him when he tries to pull them off, eyes narrowing. “You should build up to it, not just go right in.”

Leon rolls his eyes and you huff out an annoyed breath, feet pressing up against his chest.

“C’mon, Leon,” you say, voice morphing into a taunt, “work for it.”

“You always like this?” he shoots back, glaring down at you.

You give him a snarky smile, nudging your feet against his chest again. Leon shakes his head, grabbing one of your feet. You watch as he dips his head, his lips landing on your ankle. Leon’s lips are surprisingly gentle, his eyes flitting to yours as he trails his lips up your leg, leaving hot kisses in his wake.

A soft sigh escapes you, the tenseness fading as you relax, letting your eyes slide shut as he squeezes your thighs and kisses the side of your knee.

“Good?” he asks, his voice low.

“Mhm,” you nod, hips reacting to his ministrations as he spreads you apart.

Leon’s breath is hot against your skin, his tongue darting out to lick teasingly as he covers your inner thighs with kisses. You peer down at him, reaching out to place your hand in his hair, back arching slightly when he noses into your panties.

You bite your lip when he licks over your panties, feeling wetness beginning to gather between your thighs. His eyes flutter shut when your nails scratch at his scalp lightly, lapping at your clothed pussy until the fabric is wet with his spit and your slick, clinging to your folds.

“That’s cute,” you murmur, “thought this was just practice?”

He huffs out a breath and you smile, letting him lap at your clothed cunt until he’s satisfied. Leon kisses your hip when he rises up, fingers trailing across your thighs before drifting over your panties again, rubbing the drenched material absentmindedly.

“‘s nice,” he murmurs, reaching up to tug your panties flush against your pussy, his eyes latched onto the way it outlines your puffy folds. Leon’s fingers reach down, rubbing over your cunt, pressing your panties against you harder. He watches the way you bite back the noises that threaten to escape, his lips turning into a frown. “Don’t do that.”

You shake your head stubbornly and he glares at you, tugging your lip out from the confines of your teeth.

“Guess I’ll just have to wear you out, hm?”

Leon’s fingers are greedy as he pulls your panties free, throwing them somewhere over his shoulder.

“Kiss first,” you say quietly when he thumbs apart your sticky folds, “then lick.”

“I know how to do this,” he grunts, gripping your thighs harder to pull you closer to him.

“Well then show me- oh fuck -”

Your breath hitches when he kisses your clit, the bud swollen and aching from before when he’d licked over your panties and prodded his tongue against you. Leon grins against your cunt, his tongue lolling out to lick a stripe over your wet pussy, delving deep between your folds to drink down your slick.

“Taste good, pipsqueak,” he rasps, licking over your cunt, lapping over and over again until your thighs twitch and your hand tightens in his hair, eyes squeezing shut.

“Don’t- ngh- don’t call me that! ”

“What should I call you then?” Leon asks, pulling back to spit on your cunt, his fingers spreading over your clit and pussy, rubbing it in, his thumb drawing tight circles against your clit. “Hm? Baby, is that what you want? Maybe sweetheart? Darlin’, gorgeous, my good girl? All of ‘em?”

You can only manage out a moan, hips rolling up to meet his mouth as the pet-names ring in your mind, a haze of lust fogging over your mind. Leon lets out a hoarse laugh, prodding a finger against your fluttering hole, easing it in.

A whimper leaves you, cunt clenching around it as he nips at your thigh, tilting his head to suck your clit into his mouth. You shudder as he suckles, tongue flicking against the throbbing bud, teeth grazing across gently. He presses another finger into your cunt, a deep groan leaving him as you clench around his fingers harder, hips jumping when he sucks at your clit with renewed fervor.

“Such a whiny baby,” Leon muses when he hears the little whimpers and whines that leave you, his hand clamping over your hip to keep you in place as you squirm. “Don’t worry sweetheart, ‘m gonna take care of you.”

You mewl, hips rolling again needily as he buries his face into your cunt, slurping and sucking noisily. It makes your cheeks flush with embarrassment, despite the fact no one can hear you for miles.

“Thought- ah- thought you were gonna let me sit on your face,” you mumble out, body shuddering when Leon curls his fingers, beginning to thrust them in and out of you.

“Is that what you want?”

You peer down at him before managing out a nod. Leon hums, taking a measured suck of your clit and pressing a kiss to it. He pats your hip, shifting to lay on his back in response. It’s nice of him, you think, when he offers you his hand, pulling you closer as you swing your leg over his face as you peer down at him.

“Sit on my face, baby,” he murmurs, kissing the inside of your thigh.

You flush lightly, reaching out to brush the hair that’s fallen across his forehead, running your fingers through the soft strands. Leon’s eyes slip shut and you smile, trailing your fingers over the curve of his cheek before shuffling forward, lowering yourself onto his awaiting mouth.

“Oh,” you breathe out, hands landing on the sheets above his head, gripping them tightly.

Leon groans, hands grasping at your thighs, squeezing the fat of them as he urges you to rock your hips across his mouth. It’s almost too much, the swirl of his tongue, the intensity of his gaze as he looks up at you.

“I like it when you shut up,” you murmur, giving him a smile as you drag your cunt over the length of his tongue. “So much more tolerable this way, Leon.”

Leon lets out an indignant sound and you yelp, jolting when his hand comes down on your ass, your flesh stinging. What an asshole. You glare down at him, gripping his hair harder, pulling at the strands, enough to make it hurt .

He grunts, eyes squeezing shut in pain before he grasps your hips, pulling you down flush against his mouth. Your mouth opens, a strangled moan sounding as you feel his tongue pressing into your cunt.

“N- ngh- no,” you begin to say but Leon ignores you, fucking into your cunt with your tongue.

You can hardly see straight, back arching, eyes squeezing shut.

“Brat,” Leon snarls, slapping your ass again, “so fucking bratty, sweetheart.”

“‘m not,” you whine, squirming atop his mouth, moaning again when he sucks his clit into your mouth, tongue flicking and swirling until you’re seeing stars. “‘m not , Leon.”

“You are,” he snaps lowly, “bratty and annoying and a fucking pain the ass.” He licks over your cunt again and again. Your thighs twitch, chest heaving as you suck in short, sharp breaths, hunching over when his teeth nip at your folds carefully.

It’s the worst, or perhaps the best because it has the bridge of his nose pressing up against your clit in a way that you’ve never felt before. You rock your hips, gasping, tears pricking at your eyes when he lands another heavy slap to your ass.

“Cum, baby,” Leon hisses, his voice a low rasp, “cum on my fucking mouth. Can you do that, hm? Be a good girl for once and cum .”

You shudder, a sharp cry tearing its way out of your throat as you cum, twitching violently. There’s sweat covering your body, your eyes squeezing shut as you cum. Leon laps at your slick, drinking it down like a man starved. He squeezes your thighs and you tremble, managing to squirm off of him, slumping down over the blankets, panting as your cunt throbs.

Silence passes over the cabin, save for the soothing crackle of the fire. Leon clears his throat, his arm wrapping around your waist to pull you closer into the warmth of his chest.

“Hey,” he murmurs, “you- uh, you good?”

“Shut up, Leon,” you grouse, still reeling from the fact that Leon had given you the best orgasm of your life.

“I didn’t mean it,” he offers quietly, calloused palm rubbing up and down your side, over the dip of your waist and curve of your hip. “Well, not all of it.”

You shift, turning to face him. Leon’s hair looks like a mess and you figure you don’t look that much better, given all the squirming and writhing you were doing earlier.

“Yeah?” you murmur, “well, I mean it when I say you’re a dick.”

“Fine,” Leon muses, a smile pulling at his lips, “I’ll let you h-”

His words are cut off when you shuffle closer, grabbing his hoodie. Your nose brushes against his gently, eyes fluttering shut as you press your lips against his tentatively. Leon sighs into your mouth, his hand squeezing at your ass, his lips working against yours.

You wrap your arms around his neck, letting out a soft noise when he licks into your mouth, tasting yourself on his tongue. He can’t help himself as he grabs at you, his hands sliding up under your thick sweater to grasp at your tits. You whimper when he pinches your nipples, rolling them between his fingers before tugging gently.

“Gonna let me fuck you, sweetheart?” Leon whispers against your lips.

You nod, kissing him again, pulling at his hoodie. He sits up, tugging it up over his head before reaching for you, pulling your sweater off of you. Leon swallows when he sees your breasts, his hands reaching for them greedily.

“C’mere, baby,” he murmurs, dipping his head to suck a nipple into his mouth. You bite your lip, hands cupping the back of his head as Leon nuzzles into your breasts, mouthing at the sides of them, landing soft kisses across your sternum and up your throat before finding your lips again.

Your hands are just as greedy as his mouth, reaching down to palm him through his sweats, the bulge looking inviting. Leon moans into your mouth and you smile, pecking his lips as you dip your hand inside, curling your hand around his cock.

It’s thick and heavy when Leon pulls down his sweatpants, his cock bobbing. You lick your hips, straddling his thigh, stroking his cock slowly. Leon’s eyes are squeezed shut, his head tipped back as his hips buck up into your hand.

“‘s big, Leon,” you murmur, watching with rapt attention as thick globs of pre-cum bead at the tip of his cock.

“Y- yeah?” he whimpers, thighs twitching, “‘s all yours, sweetheart.”

You hum happily, meeting his eyes before opening your mouth, letting spit drop down from your tongue onto his cock. Leon groans brokenly, watching as you jerk him off, cum and spit mixing together.

“Enough,” he grunts when you swipe your thumb over the tip of his cock.

You pout, shuffling back, enough to get your mouth around the head of his cock. Leon’s grumbling when your tongue swirls around his cock, his hand fisting into your hair to pull you off roughly.

“I said enough ,” Leon murmurs, moving you until you're on your hands and knees.

“Thought you said your cock was mine ,” you drawl, wiggling your hips, ass up in the air for him. “You’re being- oh -”

A dazed sigh leaves you when you feel Leon’s mouth on you again, his thumbs spreading you apart greedily, tongue licking over your cunt. You turn your head, hazy eyes finding Leon’s hand wrapped around his cock, his grip tight as he strokes himself.

“Want your cock in me,” you mumble, drooling into the pillows when he kisses your clit.

“Greedy,” he says, rubbing his cock against your cunt for a few seconds before he presses his cock in.

You gasp, eyes squeezing shut, hips shifting away. Leon clicks his tongue, pulling your hips back, forcing you to take his cock. It’s girthy and thick, a mewl leaving you as you feel his cock stretch you out.

“That’s it,” Leon whispers, hand smoothing over the length of your back, “take my cock, sweetheart.”

You babble incoherently, leaning back into him when he drapes himself over your back, his lips on your shoulder. Leon draws his hips back before thrusting them forward, making you moan. He smiles against your skin, kissing the back of your neck before straightening out.

“Look at that,” Leon murmurs, letting out a low whistle as he spreads your wider, his fingers stroking the edges of your stretched out pussy. “Greedy cunt’s just swallowing up my cock, baby.”

“More,” you whine, starting to rock your hips back to meet his thrusts.

Leon groans, feeling your ass smack back against his hips. He grips you harder, fingers bruising against your hips, pushing down on your back to make you arch. The action has you squeaking when you lose your balance, toppling forward, cheek squishing into the pillows.

The clap of his hips against yours is embarrassing, the cold around you forgotten in the dim cabin, the thickness of his cock replacing any worries you had.

“So fucking good,” Leon snarls, tugging you up again. “Perfect fucking pussy, baby.”

You cry out when he fucks up into you, his chest flush against your back, his arm winding around your neck. Leon squeezes and you slur out a moan, head turning to sink your teeth into his bicep.

He hisses at the flare of pain, squeezing harder. Your body jolts with every thrust, eyes rolling back in delirium at how good the feel of his cock is combined with the squeeze of his arm around your neck.

“Leon!” you whimper, tipping your head back, kissing his jaw sloppily.

“‘m right here, sweetheart,” he groans, mouth slotting over yours messily.

It’s all spit and sloppy kisses, both of your bodies trembling as Leon pounds into you without abandon. The squeeze of his bicep has your vision blurring, nails digging into his thigh. Your cunt clenches and Leon whines, pressing you back down to fuck his cock into you, hand coming down on your ass hard .

“Gonna make me cum,” he rasps, fingers finding your clit, rubbing tight circles around the swollen bud.

“Please,” you mewl, hugging the pillow to your chest, “please, Leon- wanna cum, wanna cum please .”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” he chants breathlessly, kissing your cheek, “wait, where- fuck, baby- where do you want it?”

“In- nghhh- in me,” you beg, hooking your foot awkwardly around his leg, trying to keep him from pulling out. “Cum inside , Leon. Want your cum.”

“Shit,” Leon groans, pressing his face into the crook of your neck, his hips humping into your cunt as he loses himself in the tight clench of your pussy. “Sweetheart, you gotta let go.”

“N- nooo,” you whine, shaking your head, wiggling your hips back so his cock presses into you deeper.

He moans, the sound deep and guttural and it has you moaning too, cunt clenching around him like a vice.

“Pussy’s not letting me go,” Leon snarls, cock driving into you deeper as he slows his thrusts, opting to roll his hips instead. “Fine, ‘m gonna give you my cum, sweetheart. Gonna fill this greedy, little pussy up.”

You slur out a response, face shoved into the pillow, writhing as Leon rubs your clit a few more times. He curses when you squeeze around him again, slumping over you as his cock twitches, hot cum spilling into you. You bite your lip, dazed and sated as you cum with him, pussy fluttering around his cock.

Leon kisses your neck, panting as he lets his forehead rest against your back. His softening cock slips out of you and Leon turns you on your back, dipping his head to kiss you deeply. You wrap your arm around his neck loosely, sighing contentedly as he massages your hips and thighs.

“I’ll be back,” he whispers against your lips.

You nod, laying there limp. Leon returns with a dry cloth, his lips lingering on your stomach and hip as he cleans you up.

He tugs you into his chest after, kissing your cheek and letting you burrow into his warmth. Your fingers slide through his hair, playing with the soft strands absentmindedly as he smooths his hand over your side, dropping a kiss to your head every now and then.

“So was that good for practice?” you ask, feigning innocence.

Leon huffs out a laugh, his hand squeezing at your waist. “Yeah,” he says, thumb stroking over the curve of your hip, “real good, baby.”

You hum happily, smiling when he tilts his head, kissing you again.

“Does this mean I can see your work?”

“No,” he replies drily, smiling against your cheek. “Still classified, sweetheart.”

“Well, what can I do to un -classify it?”

Leon grins. “I can think of a few things.”

“Bring me any souvenirs?” you call out, leaning against the side of your car.

Leon rolls his eyes, dumping his duffle bag onto the ground, his arms wrapping around your waist to pull you closer. You laugh, letting him nuzzle into the crook of your neck, humming in amusement when he grumbles.

“You’re meant to say you missed me.”

You did miss Leon. After the snowstorm had receded, you’d still been unable to keep your hands off one another, even when you’d returned home. He’d been called on some mission some months later, and now here you were, picking him up.

“Just a smidge,” you murmur, biting your lip when he noses into your cheek, pressing soft kisses across your skin.

You turn your head, cupping his cheeks to pull him closer, kissing him deeply. Leon smiles against your lips, holding you tighter, arms squeezing around you. “Maybe a lot,” you whisper, landing another kiss to his lips.

“I missed you too,” he sighs, tucking your hair behind your ear and pressing a kiss to your forehead. Leon’s lips drift, dragging down over the side of your cheek and to your jaw. He presses you against the cool metal of your car, one of his hands drifting under your skirt.

“Know that pretty pussy missed me too,” he murmurs, “‘s why you sent me all those videos, right?”

“Shut up, Leon.”

“Oh c’mon,” Leon drawls, pulling you back into his chest when you try opening the door to your car, “I liked ‘em, sweetheart.”

He kisses your neck heatedly, a soft whine making its way out of your throat when he squeezes the fat of your ass and pats it affectionately.

“We should go home,” you whisper breathily.

“Yeah,” Leon murmurs, his hand forward to cup your pussy, stroking it through your panties. “Car’s right here though.”

You squeeze your eyes shut, muttering a curse when Leon speaks again.

“Could be fun.”

#leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy x reader #resident evil smut #leon kennedy x you #resident evil #leon kennedy

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slvttyplum · 7 days ago

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✮ part two of: roomie suguru wants to fuck you.

the question hit you like a truck, suguru's hands fidgeting and sweating as he looked at you with pleading eyes, the stirring in his jeans starting again.

please say yes, please say yes, please say yes, please say-

"where do you get off talking like that?" taking a step back into your room, but your eyes not letting you look away from him, slowly sliding down to his shirtless frame, then to his pajama pants that were so low you could almost see it.

dear lord.

"hopefully to you." a slight smirk as he says it, trying to put on his best poker face, covering up that corny-ass line. his eyes slowly follow your curves and the way your clothes hug your body just right.

he had to have you; this was a matter of life and death. his fucking dick was going to fall off from all the swelling, but it was partially his fault because he just couldn't stop staring, and neither could you.

his eyes slowly slide back up to meet yours.

"we're both adults here; let's not think too much about it."

those words made something shift inside of you, a tingle erupting throughout your body but mostly in your panties, almost like a green light.

fuck.

suguru didn't waste a second; once you slipped off your shorts and panties, suguru was snug in between your thighs, his legs snaking around your thighs as he got comfortable.

so many conflicting thoughts were swarming through your mind; this was weird, right? two roommates hooking up? this is bad; you just couldn't think straight, but suguru was way more calm about this.

"wait, no, this is a mistake." your hand pushing his forehead back as he grips your thighs, straightening himself in between you to make himself comfortable.

his dick pushing against his pants and against the mattress, his heart racing and his face already flushed, his mouth salivating.

"you want to know what's a mistake? not doing this sooner." finally sliding his tongue out and over your slit, then immediately to your clit, softly licking back and forth.

the pleasure hit you hard, your heart pounding and your hands trembling. this felt different than the usual pussy eating you received, and suguru read that.

licking over your clit again, then slowly unhooking one of his arms and sliding a finger inside of you, curling it up, trying to feel you out and feel how you reacted.

your breath hitched as you grabbed a handful of his hair, your throat tightening along with your walls that clung around his fingers that were pumping away.

suguru moaned into your dripping core as his lower body pushed into the bed, moving his hips back and forth, trying to get some friction working out; he felt like he was going to explode.

maybe he didn't have to fuck you; maybe this was enough to hold him by, his eyes closing as his nose pushes against your core, wetting it up.

your moans were quiet, but your body did most of the talking for you, your toes curling and your knuckles sore from how hard you were holding him in place.

he was looking right at you, his gaze both captivating and piercing; he was focused on you and only you, his pace getting sloppy but still making sure you felt everything he was doing.

bucking your hips into him, getting his face all wet, letting all your worries on whether or not this was a bad idea let go.

"right there, don't stop."

suguru closing his eyes again right as the waterworks begin, his nose wet along with the rest of his face, his hair slowly coming out of a bun and a few strands sticking to his face.

you couldn't process anything; your eyes had those floaters, and your legs started to cramp.

the air was thick, and the silence spoke volumes.

your breathing was uneven, and your chest rose and fell rapidly; there were no words that could be spoken. he exceeded your expectations, and that turned you on.

suguru licked his fingers and threw a blanket over you, sitting by you and placing a hand on your thigh, the touch comforting for him; he almost wanted to cuddle you in his arms.

"text me if you ever wanna fuck; i'll drop everything." patting your thigh and leaving the room, softly closing the door behind him, his heart beating so fast he thought he was going to faint.

you, on the other hand, were still recovering, trying to get up to wash and change the sheets, smiling to yourself knowing you were going to be texting him soon.

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sigh-tofm · 5 months ago

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if you wear glasses …

… price

- makes sure you always feel beautiful, especially if you’re just starting out or feel insecure with them on. kisses the bridge of your nose and your forehead. wears his own reading glasses when he’s working on reports or just puttering around the house. sits with you on the veranda, hand in hand, reading quietly while the sun sets. both of you wearing your glasses.

… kyle

- forgets you wear them and sometimes kisses you so fervently that your combined breath fog them up. you giggle as he picks them off your nose and neatly deposits them on a free surface. you continue kissing him and to make it fair, kyle turns off the lights so he too needs to rely mostly on touch the rest of the evening. turns out touch is all either of you need.

… johnny

- has broken them on more than one occasion. he’s cracked the glass and bent the frame, and it has happened both during playful wrestling matches and, uh, intimate wrestling matches. visiting the optician to pick out a new pair becomes a bi-annual afternoon date for you two. johnny always pays and isn’t even ashamed to admit out loud what he’s done while your cheeks heat and you look anywhere but at the optician.

… ghost

- always makes sure they’re clean. once you take them off to sleep, shower or just rub your eyes, he steals them away (sometimes right from your fingers or even nose if you’ve managed to get something on the glass while cooking). first uses an alcohol wipe and then dries them off with a soft linen cloth bought especially for that purpose. does not let you clean them yourself. likes to make your life easier when he can.

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awxcoffeexno · 6 months ago

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ain't gon' ever deserve you

mutant!loganhowlett x human!reader one shot

fic masterlist | nsfw claw worship

summary: logan has a nightmare and hurts you by accident - or - the one where you worship his claws the way they deserve.

content: mostly family-friendly claw worship. logan believes in the animal accusations but reader fixes it. reader is human, logan and reader have an established and v loving relationship, lots of reassurance and comforting for logan.

warnings: logan has nightmares, mentions of blood, logan self-hate, family-friendly knife play??????.

word count: 2.1k

a/n: listen, claw worship has been on my mind for a looooooong time. I'm too chicken to put up any of my nsfw writing yet so here's an sfw version with affirmations for poor baby lo-lo. also this is super inspired by logan and kayla's relationship and even uses some quotes from them.

you're deep asleep, dreaming of everything and nothing when you feel the sudden sharp sting in your arm.

eyes flying open, you open your mouth to hiss in pain but logan's lips are at your ear, snarling and grunting in his sleep again.

you look down to find his claws out, the metal tips digging into your arm. you exhale sharply, watching the warm blood seep down your arm and onto the new white sheets.

"no! n– no!" he growls, and you're forced to bite your lip as you try to pull away from his vice grip. when that doesn't work, you sink your nails into his arm.

"logan–"

"victor, NO!" he screams and sits up, yanking his claws from your arm and stabbing at the air in front of him.

victor creed. logan's brother and the bane of his existence. victor who haunts his dreams every single night, victor whose name you can never forget, victor who is now the reason logan's hurt you.

you sit up with him, aching for him, wrapping your arms around his torso. the burning pain in your arm an afterthought, you hear him swallow and gently let out a breath. he's sticky with sweat and the dry radiator air in the room isn't helping, the moon glowing through your glass walls, creating a halo around his head.

"nightmare." you state, letting him catch his breath and take in his surroundings.

he nods even though what you said wasn't a question but a statement. he twists around and pulls you into his lap, hugging you like he does near every night – chin tucked into your shoulder, arms wrapped all the way around your torso. he smells of soap and cigar smoke and the faintest hint of your shampoo. you smile to yourself and press a kiss to his hair.

"you're so cute." you mutter and a small smile spreads across his lips.

"cute?" he repeats, amused. "that's new." he pulls you closer, further down his lap and you can feel his heartbeat start to steady again.

"you used my shampoo again, and don't you deny it this time."

he scowls at you but lets you kiss him anyway. "reminds me of you," he sighs when he realises you won't stop until he admits it.

"but i'm right here," you giggle, running your thumb over the shell of his ear.

he opens his mouth to explain further but that's when he smells it. the blood he's drawn from your arm in his nightmare-fuelled anger at victor. his jaw tightens as he looks for the source of blood, finding three uniform slices on the outside of your forearm.

"no," he gasps, a thousand emotions crossing his eyes.

you try to wiggle your arm out of his grip, the blood running down your arm now. "hey... i'm okay."

"like fuck you are," he snarls, angry at himself.

how could he have possibly hurt you?! was this a thing now?? was he a danger to you even in his sleep?! god, he'll have to put you to sleep and then figure out a way to declaw himself. maybe if he just slices the back of his palms open–

"james..." you break him out of his thoughts, hand on his cheek. "baby, i'm okay. really. it looks worse than it feels."

"i'm going to rip these out." he whispers, holding his fists up, the back of his palms facing you. his words are as much a promise to you as a command to himself.

you grab his fists and glare at him. he blinks at your expression, looking at you over his hands.

"don't you dare say anything of the sort. these are a gift."

"a gift," he scoffs, "you can return a gift."

"these are a gift," you repeat sternly. "and i will not let you do anything to them."

he opens his mouth to protest but you aren't done. how dare he even think of hurting himself, of declawing himself when you love his claws as much as you love every last part of him.

you run your fingers over the back of his palms and whisper, "take them out."

"sweetheart..."

"take them out, my love" you repeat, kissing his knuckles because you know it hurts every time he does.

he carefully and very very slowly bares them and you look at him from between the blades.

not breaking eye contact, you lean in and press a soft kiss to the base of the middle claw on his right hand. you catch him shuddering and your eyes widen in surprise.

"you felt that?"

you can see him redden even in the dark. "'course i did," he grunts.

"what does it feel like?" you ask, fascinated. everyday you learn something new about him and it never fails to delight you.

you kiss the base of another claw on the other hand and see him inhale sharply.

he groans deeply, humming to come up with the right words. "like... you're stroking every nerve in me to life."

that makes you sit up on your haunches and wrap your fingers around his wrists. he freezes, bracing himself to yank the claws back in the second he thinks you might hurt yourself on the sharp ends. you carefully lick along the length of the claw between his pinky and ring finger on his right hand, making him exhale shakily.

"tryna kill me, sugar?" he says through gritted teeth, every muscle in his body tense.

"trying to show you how much i love your claws, lo. even if they hurt sometimes."

you loop your right hand between both of his, gently pressing the tip of your thumb against the sharp end of a claw. you run your finger up the blade, making him whine in protest as you draw blood.

his eyes implore you, pleading, but you simply take your hand up to his mouth, pressing your bleeding thumb against his lips. he relents, sucking it into his warm mouth and licking it clean.

"logan?" you whisper and he hums around your thumb.

despite the heat in your core, pooling between your legs, you need him to hear this. you'll have time to fulfil that need later.

"every part of you means everything to me. but your claws, especially your claws, have the most special place in my heart. they protect me. they make you feel good. and most of all, they're fucking cool."

and that finally makes him crack a smile again.

"y'think so?"

"mhmm."

"c'mere." he says finally, pulling his claws back in and tugging you back into his lap.

he makes you straddle him and kisses you warmly. he looks into your eyes with such fondness, it squeezes your heart. carefully he pulls his first claw out on his right hand and uses it to gently push your hair out of your eyes. your eyes flutter shut in response, leaning into his metal touch.

he brushes the back of the claw across your cheek and your lips part prettily for him. the air doesn't feel so thick anymore, the quiet humming of the refrigerator in the kitchen not overwhelming him the way it was when he snapped awake.

ever so carefully, pushing his own boundaries, he turns his wrist and pushes the flat of his claw onto your tongue. it's warm and tastes of him, salty and musky and like metal.

"that okay for you, pretty girl?" he mumbles and you can hear the strain in his voice. he's terrified but he so badly wants to be brave for you.

you wrap your lips around the claws and suck softly in response, drawing a groan of pleasure from him.

he shudders beneath you, every inch of him tense and trembling with restraint. you slide your tongue along the metal, tracing the edge of his claw with reverence, savoring the taste of him.

logan’s breath catches in his throat, and you feel the warmth of his exhale ghost across your face. his other hand, free of the adamantium blades, finds its way to your waist, gripping you tightly.

"god," he breathes out, voice rough and filled with a raw vulnerability you hear only at night. "you have no idea what you do to me."

you slowly release his claw from your mouth, letting it slide out with a deliberate slowness that has him biting back another groan. his eyes are locked on you, dark with need.

you reach up, cupping his face with your now clean thumb, and brush your lips against his in a featherlight kiss. "i think i do," you whisper against his mouth. "i want you to feel how much i love every part of you, logan. even the parts that scare you."

his claws retract with a soft snikt, and he wraps his arms around you, pulling you impossibly closer.

"you're something else, darlin'," he murmurs into your hair, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head. you can feel the smile playing on his lips. "you make me feel... whole."

you nestle into his embrace, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against your chest. "and you make me feel safe," you reply, closing your eyes and letting the furnace heart of his presence envelop you. "always."

you feel his grip tighten, his hand trembling slightly against your waist. he's always been the warrior, the weapon, the animal, but here in your arms, he's just logan, just a man who’s been through more pain than anyone should endure.

"people see the claws and think i’m nothing but a beast," he murmurs, his voice thick with self-doubt. "like i’m more metal than man. they look at me and all they see is the damage i can do."

you pull back just enough to look into his eyes, your hands framing his face. he tries to look away, but you won’t let him. you press a soft kiss to his brow, then his cheek, and finally, to the corner of his mouth.

"they don’t make you an animal," you whisper, your voice even and filled with conviction. "they make you strong. they’re not just weapons, they’re part of what makes you you."

his breath hitches at your words, and you feel him struggle against the years of conditioning, the years of being told that he’s nothing more than a killing machine. but you won’t let those words hold power over him anymore.

you reach down, gently taking his right hand in yours. with care, you press a kiss to each knuckle, feeling the warmth of his skin under your lips. then, you look up at him and slowly, deliberately, coax his claws out again.

you run your fingers lightly over the metal, tracing the curves and edges with the same care you’d give to a delicate piece of art.

logan watches you, his expression shifting from uncertainty to something deeper, something like awe. "you don’t see me like everyone else does," he says, almost to himself.

"no," you agree, leaning in to press a kiss to the tip of one of his claws. "i see you, logan. the real you. and what i see is a man who’s fought for so long to protect the people he loves, even when it’s cost him everything. your claws, they’re not just about hurting or fighting. they’re about protecting. they’re about survival. and they’re about who you have been for so long."

his chest rises and falls with each breath, the tension slowly easing from his body as your words sink in. for once, he doesn’t feel like an animal. he feels like a man, just a man. and it's nice.

"besides," you say, tone lightening. "so you really think I'm such a baby i can't handle three little cuts?"

you both know you're underplaying it and though he would never admit it in the day, the moonlight across his face betrays his grateful expression. it's easier to believe that he hasn't hurt you too much when you're saying it yourself.

you lower his hand, resting it against your chest, over your heart.

he swallows hard, holding you as if he’s afraid to let go. "ain't gon' ever deserve you," he whispers, his voice thick.

"you deserve everything," you murmur back, holding him just as tightly. "and i’m going to keep reminding you of that, every day."

for a moment, he’s silent, just holding you close. then, in a voice that’s barely more than a whisper, he says, "you almost make me feel human, darlin’."

you pull back just enough to kiss him again, only because you know he'd much rather feel than hear. your kiss is slow and tender, letting him feel the truth in your touch.

he doesn’t say anything more, but the way he kisses you back, the way he holds you, tells you everything you need to know.

he'll be okay. you'll make him okay. you gently push him to lie down and rest your head on his chest.

you love him, you love how he wants so badly to believe you, and most of all, you fucking love his claws.

this stemmed from a very nsfw thought™ but here we are, all warm and fuzzy. a mostly non-angsty fic is new for me!!

hope you liked this x

love, d <3

edit: i wrote an nsfw claw worship fic too 🤠🤝🏽 >> unholy

#logan howlett #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett x you #logan howlett fanfiction #wolverine #wolverine x reader #wolverine x you #wolverine fanfiction #wolverine angst #logan howlett angst #logan howlett xmen #xmen #xmen fanfiction

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chaussetteblanche · 4 months ago

Text

and they were roommates

pairing : Spencer Reid x fem!student!roommate!reader summary : you are Spencer Reid's roommate, the team finds out about you when a case brings them to the university you study at word count : 2.5k warning : canon-typical violence A/N : the university is a random one I picked in Virginia, bear with me because I don't know how US university systems work, thanks :) I think this is a part one, there may be a part two or even more, idk, but tell me what you think !

part 2, part 3, part 4

"I- I'm sorry, what university did you say?" Spencer's frantic tone was immediately noticed by his colleagues. Suddenly, he seemed hyperaware of everything in the room. The loud AC, Derek's pen-clicking and the overwhelming smell of Emily's coffee. "Mary Washington University," JJ answered swiftly, eyes narrowed as she sent Reid a confused glance. The man in question mumbled a few words under his breath and shot up, grabbing his coat and scarf. "We need to go." His tone, unusually urgent, left no space for debate or questioning. He was out the door within seconds, followed closely by Morgan and the others.

When you'd applied for Mary Washington University, you had known you would have to get an apartment. You lived too far away to even consider taking the numerous trains and buses and subways to get there. So, when you had been accepted into your first choice of universities, you'd started apartment hunting. Or roommate-hunting, to be more precise.

To say you had been unlucky would have been quite the understatement. You'd visited four apartments so far and could not even consider living in one of them for a second. The first had been full of frat boys who made your skin crawl, the second was with an old, far right-wing couple, the third had been two sisters who'd yelled at each other for the whole time you were there and the fourth had been so crowded your were certain it was neither sanitary not legal for another person to live there. With the deadline of university starting and having to move all your things, you were starting to get quite anxious. But call it chance or fate, one day you stumbled upon an advertisement for an apartment in a nice neighbourhood with one person who seemed quite normal. This person was a state-employee (which meant a stable salary and that meant you wouldn't have to compensate for rent) who travelled often for work and liked to keep mostly to themselves. Not one for big parties, they preferred a night-in and rarely had people over.

So you'd put on your big-girl pants and had walked over to what you hoped would be your last apartment visit. You hadn't been expecting such a young person to open the door because of the way the advert had been written and because of what it said. "Hi, I'm Dr. Spencer Reid." You noticed he didn't hold his hand out and mirrored his behaviour. "Hi! I'm here for a visit!" You introduced yourself somewhat shyly, feeling intimidated. This man was at the most five years older than you and he was already a doctor?

He showed you around the apartment, which you liked very much. The rooms smelled like books and tea and everything was kept very clean. On the whole, it was tidy, even if a few books or articles were stacked in some odd places. The bedroom you'd stay in was large and luminous. After the tour, he made you a cup of tea as you discussed formalities.

"Uh, so, you’re a student, right?" he'd asked politely as he added a worrying amount of sugar in his earl grey. You bit back a teasing jest. You hoped maybe one day you'd get to place where you could comment on his daily sugar intake. "Yeah, um, I'm studying English Literature and Cinema." You stirred your tea, looking around the kitchen. Even though it was painted a dark, forest green, it still seemed luminous in the afternoon sun. "Oh, that's super interesting! I’ve always found texts in Middle English particularly insightful! I- I read the Canterbury Tales when I was about 10 years old. It’s fascinating the way in which issues which were already current then are still very present today, like in the Wife of Bath’s tale, for example-“

He cut himself off, leaning back into the couch. He rubbed the back of his neck, cheeks dusted pink. “Sorry, you probably don’t want me to ramble about what you already know.” “No, I think it’s amazing that you would know that, actually. What else did you like in the Wife of Bath’s tale?” Spencer seemed to brighten up at your words and thus ensued a lengthy discussion of the avant-garde themes evoked by Geoffrey Chaucer. You were fascinated by his knowledge and found his passion especially endearing. Lots of your professors weren’t even that passionate when talking of late 14th century literature.

After discussing rent, which you would afford by waitressing at a local bar, lightly touching upon political subjects (on which you seemed to agree on), he finally told you that he was an FBI agent. "Excuse me?" you spluttered, leaning backwards in shock. "I'm a profiler with the BAU, the Behavioural Analysis Unit. I can show you my badge if you want." He stood up and reached for his bag, but you stopped him in his tracks. "No, no, that's okay, I believe you. I'm just surprised, that's all, sorry." His expansive knowledge of so many things seemed fitting for an agent of the BAU. After realising you were the first person who didn't demand his badge as proof of his profession, Spencer granted you a small smile. "You don't need to apologise. I- I know it can be a bit... off-putting." He sat back down and looked you in the eye. "Is that a problem for you, living with a federal agent?"

You thought about it for a second. As a general rule, you weren't a big fan of cops. Even more generally, you didn't believe in the structure of today's society. But that was a big topic. Plus, a profiler wasn't really a cop, was he? "No, that's not a problem for me."

You'd moved in a month and a half later. Things had been slightly awkward at first and you'd had to figure out what kind of dynamic Spencer and you had. But eventually, you’d found your rhythm.

When Spencer left for work, you took care of his plants and sent him pictures of Geoffrey. Geoffrey was the cat you’d found on the street and taken in. He was named after Geoffrey Chaucer, author of the Canterbury Tales, your first common point of interest. Spencer had been reluctant at first, but you’d taken him to the vet, where he was tested and vaccinated, and the man had finally accepted him into your shared space. Now, he loved the little creature. Sometimes, you’d call him to ask how he was doing and whether he was safe. He’d always reply that yes, he was doing fine and no, he wasn’t in any danger, don’t you worry. He’d ask how you were doing and if you were staying on top of uni work and if you’d eaten and if Geoffrey wasn't being too annoying. As an orange cat, he had his particular tendencies.

When Spencer was at home, you'd always look forward to getting back from class. There was always that sense of comfort and ease when he was around. You had found a lovely routine quite easily. You'd both work or study, then cook, eat together and afterwards maybe you'd watch a movie or something. You were at a point where you could comment on his daily sugar intake, which he's started correcting since meeting you. He loved the Big Bang Theory and though you weren't such a fan, you loved the little laughs he let out and all the corrections he'd make. In general, you liked when he talked. Even more generally, you liked him. You also liked Friends and though Ross got on Spencer's nerves, he enjoyed being able to discuss it with you afterwards. The two of you got very close without even noticing.

Sometimes, you'd remember he wasn't just your roommate, but also a man. He'd make you a cup of tea and you'd stare at his hands a little too long while he stirred the honey in. Or he'd help you reach for a cup with his impressive height, his front just skimming your back with a shiver. He'd tell you to breathe and sit down when you were upset about something. A few times, he drove you home from a night out with your friends and laid his hand on your knee. He was the only one who remembered how you'd told him you wanted to kiss him.

With you, Spencer discovered many things he had never experienced before. A healthy, comforting and peaceful routine. A supporting, non-judgemental, healthy friendship. Easy laughter in the middle of the night and tired "good morning"s at dawn. Butterflies in his stomach whenever you touched him. A budding romance which kept him awake at night.

So when that was threatened, he just about lost it.

"Oh my God." "I can't believe this." "Is this a prank?" "Did someone call 911?" "What about her parents?" "Oh, that's sick."

Voices swarmed around your head, making you dizzy. Your hand rested over your mouth as you stared at the body strewn on the lawn. Much of the student body stood next to you, just as shocked. Mary Goldman had been her name. You'd crossed her just this morning in the main hall and had exchanged small smiles. You had thought that she looked really pretty today, but hadn't told her. You regretted that now. At the moment, her mascara had run down her cheeks and dried and her lipstick and been smudged. Bruises and cuts decorated her bare arms and legs and a big red stain sat on the side of her stomach. The contrast between her dead body and the green, thriving grass beneath her was haunting.

You turned away, feeling sick. You felt your friend's hand on your shoulder, a small source of comfort anchoring you to reality. Facing the road as you turned, you were surprised to see three big black SUVs speeding towards the crowd. You'd been expecting an ambulance, or cops. Not whoever these guys were. They screeched to a stop, drawing everyone's attention. A small dozen of people stormed out, all dressed differently though they all held the same aura of importance, knowledge and authority. You turned back to your friends. "Who are these-"

You stopped mid-sentence when you heard your name being called out urgently. You'd have recognised his voice amidst a thousand others. He spoke your name like no other. You frantically looked around, pushing your way to the large vehicles. When you finally spotted him, tears started pricking your eyes. "Spencer," you breathed in a half-sob. His eyes ran you over once, twice, assessing any damage. When he saw there was no physical wound, his shoulders sank in relief. He opened his arms and you rushed inside his warm embrace almost reflexively. Neither of you noticed the numerous pair of curious eyes observing your intimate exchange.

"Oh my God, Spence- What- What are you doing here?" you'd cried into his cardigan. You buried your face into his neck, inhaling the comforting scent he always bore. He wrapped an arm around your waist and another around your shoulders, holding the back of your head in a consoling manner. "We're- We're taking this on as a case, sweets. Are you all right?" He knew it was a stupid question but all the emotions and tension were barely wearing off and he didn't know what else to say. You pulled away but he kept you at arm's length, holding your cold, shaking hands in his warm, steady ones. "I- Yeah, it's just- I- I saw her this morning! How could she- Why would someone do this to her? To- to anyone?!" Spencer cooed and pulled you into another tight hug as you continued to ramble through your tears. When you'd eventually calmed down thanks to his words of reassurance, he pulled away softly.

Spencer understood what you meant perhaps more than anyone. The sadness, the shock, the anger, the need to understand. He gently wiped away the mascara under your eyes with his thumb. "I know, I- It's- Even I don't always understand, sweetheart, so don't- Why don't you go home? I'd come with you but-" You nodded, biting your lower lip. He gave you a sad smile. "I promise I'll join you as soon as this is over. You- you can make yourself a cup of tea and process all this and pet Geoffrey, okay? Classes are going to be cancelled either way." "I don't want to-" The look in his eyes kept you from arguing further. You nodded, giving him another hug. Before you left, an older man came over to you.

"I'm sorry to bother you, miss. I'm Agent David Rossi. I just had a question-" "Rossi," interrupted Spencer with a stern tone you'd never heard before. The older Agent raised an eyebrow at him. "Just one question." He turned back to you. "At what time did you say you saw the victim?" You inhaled shakily, running a hand over your face. "Uh, it must have been around quarter to eleven. I think- Yeah, somewhere between ten thirty and eleven." "Thank you, miss." You didn't miss the glance shared between the two men before Rossi retreated.

"Who was that?" asked Emily as soon as you'd left and Spencer had joined them behind the police tape. "No one," Spencer brushed her off as he kneeled next to the victim. Strangely, he hated the idea of someone who knew you dying. It felt too close to home. "C'mon, man, you lost your shit this morning, a girl you clearly know very well runs into your arms, you snap at Rossi and you expect us to believe you?" Derek raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms over his chest. Spencer sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose before looking up at the rest of the team. All were staring at him patiently. He stood up, swallowing.

"That was my roommate." He informed the team of your name and of how you'd been living together for a few years now. "Spencer, you've been living with a woman for years and you've never told us?!" Derek was all but hysteric. Hotch reminded him that everyone was entitled to a private life. "So, are you dating or something?" Emily prodded again. Spencer hesitated a second before answering. "No." Derek scoffed, appalled. "You mean to tell me you've been living with a beautiful woman like that for years and nothing's ever happened?!" "Not everyone is like you, Morgan," Emily reminded with a teasing smirk. Derek sent her an unimpressed look. "Look, let's all grill Spencer later, we have a case to focus on right now." Rossi, ever the voice of reason, directed everyone's attention back to the corpse laying next to them.

Needless to say, the BAU team did not need to interrogate Spencer or attack him with incessant questions to find much out. They'd seen by his behaviour that very morning how much he cared about you. They'd seen how relieved he had been when he'd seen you safe and sound. They'd noticed you'd only started crying when you'd seen him, a big sign of trust. They had never heard him call another by pet names such as "sweets" or "sweetheart". They'd read both of your body languages like a children's book and translated it easily.

Love. Comfort. Peace. Ease.

#Spencer reid #Spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid fic #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid angst #doctor spencer reid #dr spencer reid #criminal minds x you #criminal minds

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happy74827 · 6 months ago

Text

Feels Like Home

[Logan Howlett x Female!Reader]

Synopsis: You decide to take it upon yourself to become best friends with Wade’s new grumpy addition to the family (much to Logan’s dismay).

WC: 2453

Category: Fluff, Sunshine!Reader x Grumpy!Logan trope {TW: Bar Fight, Handsy Drunk Dude, Mentions of Blood + Bruising}.

[Dedicated to: @iluvloganhowlett] I finished it for you!! (I’m shocked at the speed too don’t worry 💀). Hopefully this fluffiness will help add onto the low supply out there.

And incase anyone hasn’t seen it yet: DEADPOOL & WOLVERINE SPOILERS BELOW THE CUT

『••✎••』

You’ve always had a keen eye when it came to others. It’s mostly why you and Wade get along so well; you’re the one person who can see straight through him. And while it means you are very close, it also meant that you can easily tell when something is going on with someone you don't know that well, like the tall, brooding man named Logan, who had just joined the club of misfits.

You could tell by the way he carried himself that he had been through hell and back. He was quiet, grumpy, and had a tendency to snap at Wade, which, most of the time, was a well-deserved snapping.

You could also tell that there was more to him. He wasn't just a grumpy guy; there was something about him that made you want to be his friend. Maybe it was the sadness in his eyes, or maybe it was how lonely he looked.

Either way, you knew he was in need of a good friend, and you wanted to be that friend. Not a pestering one like Wade, but the kind of friend that just makes you feel a bit better.

So, when you spotted him, downing glass after glass of whiskey for the third day in a row, you just knew you had to help.

And he hated it. Oh, man, he absolutely hated it. You were such a happy ray of sunshine, always smiling, always laughing. He found it so fucking annoying. He couldn't deal with you and your constant positivity. It was like you were the PG-13 version of the breathing ballsack next to you.

But you wouldn't give up. Every time you saw him, you would try to cheer him up by making silly jokes, giving him small gifts, or even just sending him encouraging smiles.

He didn't want any of it, but it seemed you were too stubborn to listen. Every small note you’d given him was left crinkled in the trash; every gift was placed away without ever being touched. Your smile never got a response.

That is, until one day, as you walked by him, he mumbled something that almost made you trip over.

"Thanks."

You stopped in your tracks and turned around to face him, a look of disbelief on your face. You had tried so hard to cheer him up for the past few weeks, and this was the only thing you got from him? You couldn't believe it.

You had spent so much time and effort trying to make him feel better, and this was all he could say to you?

You wanted to hug him. To scream to the skies and celebrate that he finally accepted your kindness.

You held the restraint to do so, though. You didn’t want to cause him to close off again, and so instead, you sent him a soft smile, and a small nod, before you resumed walking (running) to your friends.

The next day, however, you were met with the biggest surprise of your life.

Logan was sitting at the bar, drinking. He didn't look too different, still dressed in his trademark blue jeans and flannel shirt, but his face was still holding that sadness you had grown used to seeing on him.

You walked over to him and sat down beside him, that classic smile of yours plastered on your face.

"Hi!"

He groaned. "You're not going to leave me alone, are you?"

"Nope!" You replied cheerfully, popping the 'p.'

He grumbled under his breath and downed the last of his drink, signaling to the bartender for another.

"Come on, Wolvie," you said, nudging his shoulder. "Lighten up. Life's not that bad, is it?"

He turned to glare at you, his dark brown eyes piercing into yours. "It's Logan," he said, his voice a low growl.

You shrugged and leaned closer to him, propping your elbow on the counter. This was the usual part—the part where he would give vocal responses while you carried on your one-sided conversation with him.

The difference this time, the surprise of it all, was when a person approached the both of you. Mind you, a very drunk person.

"Heyyyyy, baby girl," he slurred, his hand landing on your shoulder.

You turned to him, and he was looking you up and down with that gaze you knew had only one intention. You still smiled, though, and politely moved his hand off your shoulder.

"Uh, hi?" You answered unsurely.

He slammed his elbow on the counter, his palm on his fist. "You are gorgeous," he commented, and you had to hold back the laughter that was bubbling in your throat.

"Thank you," you chuckled.

Logan scoffed, rolling his eyes, but you paid him no mind. Usual behavior from him, nothing new.

"No, really," the stranger continued, moving his arm around your shoulders, "I think you're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen."

"Well, I'm glad you think so," you answered, still chuckling. "But, I think you're a little drunk."

"Drunk on love," he responded, "Say, wanna get out of here? I'll show you a real good time."

Here comes the awkward part, you thought.

You shook your head, and removed his arm from around your shoulders. "Thank you for… uh, the kind offer," you answered, "But, no, thank you."

You expected him to shrug it off and leave or to just be a dick, as many drunken guys are. But no, this guy did not know how to take a hint.

Instead, he tightened his grip around you and pulled you closer to him, his free hand moving down your waist. "Come on, baby," he said, his words slurring. "You know you want to."

You sighed. You were really hoping it wouldn't have to come to this.

You were about to speak, to politely, yet firmly, tell him to leave you alone, but before you could open your mouth, a gruff voice beat you to it.

"She said no,"

He didn’t even look at the man or you. His eyes were still fixated on the counter as if he was talking to his glass, but he had turned his head a bit to the side so that you could hear him clearly.

The drunk stranger was startled by the sudden intervention. He let go of you and looked over at Logan, confusion clear in his face.

"Who the hell are you?" he asked, his brows furrowed.

"Does it matter?" Logan grumbled.

"Yeah, it does," the stranger retorted, his slurring voice suddenly getting serious. "If I'm gonna be having fun, I don't want an audience."

Oh, how you hated confrontations.

Logan just scoffed with a slight hint of a smile, shaking his head as he still refused to turn around.

"Trust me, pal," he replied, "I ain't interested in watching you do anything."

"Good." He went back to his obnoxious grin, now directing his attention back to you. Oh, man, he was an eyesore.

"So, how about it, beautiful? Wanna head somewhere else?" He slurred.

You were about to reply, again, with a polite rejection, but your shoulder was being grabbed at again, and if it wasn’t for the small training session that Colossus had put you through, you were sure you would have lost your footing.

"Can you let go of me, please?" You asked politely, but the man was a brick wall.

"Nah, sweetheart," he shook his head, and the movement was so intense, you could almost hear the alcohol sloshing around in his head, "You're comin' with me. Trust me, you’ll be perfectly taken care of."

That was when the sound of glass slamming against the counter reached your ears, and you didn't have to see the source of the sound to know it was Mr. Grumps.

What you struggled for what seemed like an eternity, he took that needy arm away from your shoulders within a fraction of a second. It was almost shocking how quick he was, but then again, you knew what he was capable of.

With you safe against the counter, Logan turned to face the stranger, his face still showing that same neutral expression as before, though his eyes held an intensity that made the man flinch.

Normal people would believe he had the patience of a saint. But you weren’t a normal person. You knew this was dangerously close to making him lose it.

"Uh, Logan… maybe we should—"

But your words fell on deaf ears. The only thing that Logan could hear was the weak excuses the guy was trying to give as he tried to pull his hand from the tight grasp Logan had it in.

"Hey, man," he stuttered, his words slurring as the panic set in, "What’s your problem? Let go of me!

But Logan had no intentions of doing so. He held the stranger's arm firmly, his grip growing tighter until he could hear a small crack coming from the guy's bones.

"What's your damage, huh?" the guy continued, trying his best to keep his voice from breaking. "It's just a little fun, right, baby?"

You cringed as his eyes fell back onto you, and the pleading tone of his voice was beginning to make your skin crawl.

"Look, uh," you started, looking anywhere but his eyes, "I don't think—"

"Listen," the man continued, and your eyes fell shut. God, he was just not going to stop. "Maybe you can join us? Huh, big boy? That’s what it is, right? You want her all for yourself?"

Uh, oh.

"Logan, don’t—"

It was too late. He had already snapped, and with a grunt, he pulled the man closer to him, his other hand forming a fist around his shirt.

"Wanna say that again?" He growled. "Do it. I dare you."

The man was trembling in his grasp, but he was clearly too drunk to understand the danger he was in.

"Oh, I'm sorry, are you her boyfriend?" He taunted, and the fact that he had the guts to do so while his hand was in a painful hold was astonishing, even for you. "Or are you just some guy with a crush? Cause, honestly, it's pretty pathetic. You can't even ask her out."

His words had Logan seeing red, and before you could do anything, the guy was pushed away and was about to be on the receiving end of one of the strongest punches you've ever seen.

So, riskily, to protect yourself and him from being thrown out of his favorite place, you jumped off the stool and slid in between them as he launched his punch, just stopping inches away from your face.

"Please," you said, your palms up and in front of you, as if that would do anything to stop the rage he was feeling, "Please, calm down."

"Calm down?" He repeated, his voice rising. "Are you kidding me?"

"You need to let it go," you told him. "He's drunk, Logan. He doesn't know what he's saying."

"And, what," he retorted, his anger slowly fading away, "Does it look like I give a single fuck about that?"

You sighed, your eyes meeting his, and that was enough for him to finally give in. His clenched fist dropped, and he released a frustrated sigh.

The dude behind you started laughing, his voice sounding as if he was trying to make fun of a fight scene.

"So," he chuckled, "That's it, huh? You're not gonna do shit? You’re just as pathetic as a—"

He gently moved you aside, and in an instant, the man was lying on the floor with a bloody nose, a black eye, and a few broken ribs.

You could only hold your head in your hands, knowing very well the mess you were about to have to deal with.

And it didn't take long.

As soon as Logan stepped away from the drunk idiot, security was on him, grabbing his arms and restraining him. He couldn’t care less, though, as he held a sadistic grin on his face, pleased with his work while being escorted out.

And, so, there, the two of you were on the steps of the apartment building. You, holding your hands in your lap, and he, staring up at the night sky.

The air was warm, the city lights were dim, and the sky was covered in clouds. There was an odd silence between the two of you, which wasn’t really all that odd, but the events of the night had changed the atmosphere.

"Thanks," you spoke, breaking the quiet. "For, you know, standing up for me."

"He was a douche," he stated, his voice gruff. "Someone had to send that fucktart crying home to mommy."

"You shouldn’t have done that, though," you told him. "Now, you’re probably banned from the bar. I know it's your favorite."

"Eh," he shrugged, "Booze is booze. There are plenty more places to get drunk."

You didn't respond. Instead, you focused your attention on the small bugs flying around the dim light next to the door.

"You shouldn't be thanking me, anyway," he continued, turning to you. That was new. "I should be the one thanking you."

You looked at him, your brows furrowed. This whole conversation was getting weird. "Uh, what for?" You asked, confused.

"For putting up with me," he replied, shrugging.

"Putting up with you?" You repeated, not understanding. "I don't understand."

"Y'know," he continued, his gruff voice a little less gruff. "Sticking around. Being friendly. Having… patience. I can be…I can be a real dick. Honestly, I still don't get why you keep trying."

The smile that found its way to your lips waa the most genuine one he's ever seen. Your eyes were full of kindness and understanding, and your lips, which usually held a grin or a smirk, were turned upwards in a soft, gentle smile.

"Logan," you said, your voice low. "You may be a grump, and you might not be the friendliest guy, but that doesn't mean you don't deserve kindness. Everyone deserves that… or at least a little bit of it."

He scoffed. "That's funny," he replied, turning his head away.

You furrowed your brows and cocked your head, confused. "What is?" You asked.

"I used to think," he began, "That no one would ever look at me in the way you do. Not after what I’ve done… not after what I am."

"You're a good man, Logan," you told him. "You proved who you were when you willingly helped Wade."

"Maybe," he sighed, his gaze meeting yours. "But, there's still a lot you don't know about me. I'm not exactly a knight in shining armor."

"Oh, my dear, Wolvie," you said playfully, leaning closer to him and placing your palm on his shoulder, "You never were."

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anisespice · 7 months ago

Text

“ baby steps ” || tokyo rev.

continuation of this post.

pairing: bonten x fem!reader [ mikey, ran, sanzu ]

warnings: mature content ahead. MDI. mature language, crude humor, ANGST w/ comfort (mostly in mikey's), deadbeat!bonten (unintentionally), not proof-read so there may be A LOT of errors :// mikey's is LONG, ran + sanzu's are silly goofy, mikey + sanzu's are a lil unhinged lol and i think that’s it :))

notes: can i just say thank y'all so much for showing "accidents happen" the love that i didn't think it would get, it was made on a whim so i'm so so so happy y'all enjoyed! i tagged as many as i could (or that tumblr would allow) sorry if i missed some of you :( thank you for your patience and let me know how you feel about this continuation format :) !! notes ii: also also, pt. 2 for "accidents happen" coming soon! notes iii: MY COMPUTER CRASHED AND I THOUGHT I LOST EVERYTHING BUT IT'S OKAY IT'S OKAY :'))))

tagged: @fantasycantasy , @illegalspacecow , @captaincyberqueen , @cherryblossiren , @niragiswhore , @awkwardaardvarkforever , @valentsoup , @lovely212 , @miffysoo , @yandere-kouhai , @i-am-just-a-girl-ur-honor , @wisteriarose214 , @kindadolly , @yuwaimo , @sweetbella1221 , @simpingfor-wakasa , @sirachano0dles , @yutahg , @slowlikehonee , @blurpleuni-squid , @haruchiyoreen , @istanstraykidss , @loyard176 , @msluccapotato , @luv444lay , @backgroundcharactera , @jegelskeranime

Ever since you picked up your daughter, there’s been a hovering presence that wouldn’t go away no matter where you went. From the park, to the grocery store, all the way home it clung to you like a bad itch. Despite looking over your shoulder and being met without any sort of threat, that didn’t stop the uneasy feeling. And it only intensified when you received a knock on your front door.

You made a confused hum, checking the time on the microwave to confirm that it was indeed past the reasonable hour for potential visitors. Not to mention, you weren’t expecting anyone.

The hairs on the back of your neck stood up, instincts telling you that something wasn’t right, that your best option was to pretend you weren’t home. However, the person on the other side knew otherwise as they knocked on the door again, this time with more fervor. You inhaled sharply, taking hesitant steps towards the door until you were mere feet away from it. Eventually, you worked up the courage to look through the peephole, your brows furrowing in distress when all you could see was black—They were covering it. All the more reason not to open the door…

What if it’s a robber? Ridiculous, they don’t knock.

What if it’s just the neighbor? Why cover the peephole?

More and more did your mind swirl with endless possibilities, each one becoming less and less believable. Taking a long, deep breath, you doubled-checked the door-chain was on before slowly cracking it open. And as you attempted to peek through the sliver, nothing could’ve prepared you for the arm that forced its way through, startling you as you yelped, stumbling back as it made a grab at you.

Before you had the thought of shoving the door closed on the offender’s arm they grabbed the little chain, then yanked it clean out of the wall. To your terror, a dark hooded figure entered your home, head hung low, concealing their identity.

You began to hyperventilate, backing up to keep distance as they staggered further into your home before kicking the door closed behind them, effectively blocking you from the exit. Surely, someone heard your scream and would check in, or call the police. But, how long did you have before the intruder decided to make a move? Not to mention, your sleeping child just down the hall…

With that last thought in mind, you immediately steeled your nerves.

Even if you had to use your bare hands, you were going to do whatever it took to keep your baby out of harms way.

You reached for the closest weapon without taking your eyes off the figure, hands clasping onto a discarded umbrella that was leaned up against a closet door. It wasn’t ideal, but it would have to do. Taking a defensive stance, you prepared for what you assumed to be the inevitable.

“I-I don’t know who you are, or what you want…b-but if you don’t leave…my..my boyfriend will be home any minute! H-He knows how to fight, and he’ll fuck you up if you try anything!”

Your means of intimation fall on deaf ears. It were as if you hadn’t spoken at all. They just…stood there. Watching you from the darkness. That feeling, that hovering presence you’d been weary about all evening…there was no doubt in your mind it was because of this individual. Suddenly, they gave a watery chuckle, hand coming up to rub the lower half of their face as the chilling noise dissipated into soft snickers.

You sweatdropped. “I mean it! He’ll be here real soon, so you better get out of here before-”

“[_____]…” the figure finally rasped, voice heavy with an emotion you couldn’t decipher in the moment. You froze, eyes widening.

“…How the hell do you know my name?”

Without much urgency, they stepped forward into the light. Beneath the warm glow, it took you mere seconds to recognize the person standing before you. You gasped, trembling hands dropping the umbrella, it landing with a harsh clatter. Soft, mortified hitches in your breath echoed through the small space, memories flashing before your eyes as you covered your gaping mouth.

“M.. Ma..” you whimpered, throat tightening. A shell of a man, who gazed upon you with stormy eyes flooded with tears at the mere sight of you.

He gave another strained laugh, muttering to himself as he soaked you all in. “Needed to know.. Needed to know it was really you…”

Mikey eyed you up, intensely, eerily silent as he did so. Then, he took in the surroundings, the warmth, the interior, the smell of dinner—It truly felt like a home. A bitter pill to swallow once he reminded himself that you built it without him.

His sharp gaze returned to your stunned expression. He sneered.

“Must’ve been easy for you. To forget me and move on, just like that. Like I was nothing.”

You blinked, taken aback. All you could do was remain speechless, cemented to the ground with thoughts and questions racing in your head. Now matter how many times you opened your mouth, no sound would come out aside from choked whimpers.

“Do you know…how long I’d been searching for you? Been mourning for you?” He hissed through clenched teeth. “When you left, I thought… I thought someone had taken you. That I lost you all because I was too stubborn to say I’m sorry…”

As he spoke, Mikey slowly closed the space between you. The more he came into the light, the more you could see how the years had treated him. His cheekbones were more pronounced, the dark circles under his eyes as well. His lips were dry, cracked, his fair skin now ghoulishly pale. If not for the black hoodie you would’ve mistaken him as such; ghost of your past.

Your shoulders shook, hands hovering over your face as you gaped in disbelief. He’d been looking for you?

That night, that stupid fight you could barely remember…he made it crystal clear that he wanted nothing to do with you. He pushed you away. Pushed so hard that you almost believed he really wouldn’t have cared if you dropped dead. You knew he didn’t mean it, knew it was just another dark impulse…but none of that mattered when all your pregnancy tests came back positive just hours prior.

That night, you made the decision for the sake of your daughter. And also, for his sake. At the time, you were certain he wasn’t ready to be a father. He was quick to rage, merciless, losing himself to the darkness you tried to protect him from. If you had stayed, you were certain Mikey would’ve never forgiven himself if he lost control in front of his own flesh and blood, if the child grew to resent him for something he struggled to control.

You thought you were doing him a favor…but it appears to have done the opposite.

“And this whole time…you’ve been here, alive. Playing fucking house with someone else.”

You stiffened. Someone else? Your visible confusion only irritated him further.

He scoffed. “Don’t play dumb. You said it yourself. Too bad he won’t be coming home anytime soon. I’ve already got Sanzu and the Haitanis looking around for the bastard. And when they find him, I’ll make him regret sticking his filthy dick inside you.”

Confusion morphed into realization. You did threaten him with said hypothetical boyfriend…But, that was before you knew it was him!

“Oh, Manjiro…” you whispered. He glared, scorned.

“Don’t you dare pity me. I mean, you got the family you always wanted, right? So who cares who it was with, right? Congratu-fucking-lations.”

You shook your head, exhaling deeply as you held your face in your hands. For years, he thought you dead. Then, when he received word of your appearance, he finds you with child. And not once did he consider that child to be his? It’s like…he couldn’t fathom the thought.

If only he had looked just a little bit closer, he would’ve seen that she had his eyes. How they resembled those pools of ink that used to shine with so much hope back in his youth, so playful and full of love…those same eyes that now gazed upon you with contempt.

It stung.

He thought so low, not only of himself, but of you as well.

Taking a deep breath to reel in your emotions, tears began to well up in your eyes. He assumed they were tears for your doomed lover, further breaking his heart as Mikey clenched his fists to the point of nearly drawing blood. Luckily, even though you struggled to find the right words, someone else happily found them for you.

“Papa..?”

Both of you instantly drew your attention on the toddler standing near the kitchen, one fist clutching her blanket while the other rubbed the sleep from her eye. You glanced at Mikey, and he was stiller than stone. His once dead-stare had morphed into what could only be described as incredulous. Surely, he heard her incorrectly…

With a sniffle, you crouched down to address her, offering a soft grin as you nodded earnestly. “That’s right, sweetheart. Papa’s finally come home.”

The little girl blinked sleepily, taking a second to reboot. But, as soon as the words registered, a bright smile stretched across her face as she excitedly rushed towards Mikey, throwing herself onto his legs and hugging them like a koala as she chirped, “Papa, home!”

Said man hobbled a bit at the force, arms windmilling as he caught himself to keep from falling backwards. He didn’t know what to do with himself, especially when those big, round pools of ink opened and stared right up into his soul. Mikey’s heart nearly stopped. With a hitch in his breath, the gangster did everything he could to hold his composure, looking between you and the child as you both gazed at him with so much warmth…it was suffocating.

Sensing he was overwhelmed, you reached down to scoop up the bubbly bundle, holding her close as you eyed Mikey, apprehensively.

He resembled a cornered animal—Muscles stiff, jaw tight, eyes wild. After a moment, Mikey began to slowly back away into the shadows of your home, conflicted, devastated. It wasn’t until his back hit the door did he eventually fall to his ass, of which caused your child to giggle at how silly he was being. However, all you could do was hold back tears, watching as the reality started to weigh down on a man who just discovered he was a father.

Nervous, you gently explained. “I didn’t leave you because of our spat, Jiro…and I never moved on. I just…thought that I’d be doing more harm than good sticking around when I found out I was pregnant…I didn’t want to add any more stress on your plate, so I…”

Mikey didn’t respond. He sat there, stare vast and unfocused. But, you knew he hung on to every word. So you continued. “I wanted to tell you. But…I wasn’t sure how. At the time, I believed you had stopped caring about me altogether. And to hear you’d been looking for me, I-I’m…I’m so sorry. I’m sorry you harbored all that guilt. I didn’t mean for any of that to happen.”

Your daughter wiggled around in your hold, making small grunts in complaint. Her eyes were trained on his figure huddled in the dark, wanting to be acknowledged, wanting his attention. “Papa!”

Mikey flinched. He focused his gaze on the two you, haloed by the light emitting from the living room. You both were like salvation, reaching down to a broken sinner…How could she want anything to do with him? When he had missed so much already…

To keep from accidentally dropping her, you placed your daughter back on the ground, watching wearily as she wobbled all the way to Mikey, blanket in tow. You weren’t worried about him hurting her, far from it…if anything, he appeared to be the fragile one.

Eventually, she made it to her destination, standing before him with a curious, but eager expression as she rested a hand on his knee. Mikey watched her, took in all of her features, every last detail as he engraved it to memory. She was beautiful, just like her mother. One would think his genes didn’t stand a chance. But the eyes. That was all him. From his mother to his older brother to himself, there was no doubt in his mind that those were Sano eyes.

His lower lip quivered, reaching out hesitantly to caress her cheek. She didn’t cower away, merely babbled as she began patting his knee, allowing his thumb to rub over her chubby cheek. You clasped your hands over your mouth, growing even more emotional at the delicate moment. Mikey looked enamored already, eyes subtly sparkling from what you could see as they interacted.

“I-I told her stories, about you. And I made sure to show her photos, too. Old ones, but still you nonetheless. I wanted her to know who her father truly was. Despite everything else…”

Your daughter cooed, then placed her blanket in Mikey’s lap before climbing into it. Mikey didn’t dare move, rigid as she made herself comfortable. He looked up at you, looking for guidance, for reassurance. Your encouraging smile was enough for him to hesitantly place his hands on her small back for support, carefully adjusting so that she was stable. She laid her head on his chest and stuck her thumb in her mouth, sighing contentedly.

And, for the first time in years, he smiled.

When you hadn’t seen her familiar pigtails bobbing around, or heard any of her excited chatter with the receptionist up front, worry couldn’t even begin to describe what you felt the moment you realize…your daughter wasn’t here.

As soon as the meeting looked like it was wrapping up, you politely excused yourself from the room. Masking your worry wasn't too difficult, but there's no doubt a couple people might've noticed the spring in your step as you exited. One of them being Rindou Haitani. He watched you speed down the hall with mild interest, corner of his mouth ticking up ever so slightly as he thumbed around on his phone beneath the table. Having been updating his older brother during the meeting while he was on his smoke break, he was more than eager to inform him of the storm that was no doubt heading his way.

Little did the younger Haitani know, he was already dealing with one.

"And then, Haruka-kun tries to take Momo-kun's bento box because she had cuter animal shapes, but Momo-kun already said no, and so Haruka-kun pushes Momo-kun, and then tries to take it! But I pushed him and hit him with my fist, like this," she clenched up her tiny fist and held it up to Ran before striking down on his forearm with all her might. It didn't even pitch. "Like that."

The lavender-eyed man merely gazed upon her with mirth. "Did you now?"

"Mmhm! And teacher got so mad, and said that she would tell Ma about me fighting, but she's stupid because Ma didn't pick me up today, and I told Haruka-kun if he snitches, I'll beat 'em up!"

Ran lowly whistled. "Quite the little menace, ain'tcha?"

She pumped her fists. "Yeah!" Then, she paused, holding a finger to her chin in thought. "Wait...what's a menace?"

"Ah, something you inherited from your old man." He ruffled her hair, much to her displeasure. Though her innocent jab earlier regarding his age still hit a sore spot, he was starting to like the sound of it. She, on the other hand, wasn't convinced.

"I already told you; Ma was on her happy juice when she said that. She said not to believe anything she says when she's on happy juice. It makes her do silly things."

Ran chuckled. He knew that all too well. The little girl wouldn't be in this world if not for your inability to hold your liquor. But judging based on how you've raised her so far, clearly you made the right decision keeping him in the dark.

He'll admit, he wasn't the best in terms of commitment. Throughout his day to day, Ran just didn't have the energy. With being in Bonten, keeping an eye out for his younger brother, handling business, dealing with numbskulls and disposing of their bodies, there was never a time to even consider settling down. One-night stands and on and off flings were the easiest choice. At least, until he stumbled upon you.

You were the whole package and more. Classy, independent, witty, and a looker to top it all off. When Bonten started collaborating with the organization you worked in, he couldn't help but to be drawn to you—Like a moth to a flame. It started out as the occasional bantering, trying to one-up the other, catch them off guard. Ran was smooth with his words but could never quite beat your sharp tongue. Thus, things escalated to something more flirtatious. Harmless, but it didn't take long before the months of tension between the both of you began boiling over...and throwing alcohol into the mix, it was the first time Ran finally felt like he had the upper hand. Seeing how poorly you handled just a few glasses of wine, it endeared him. Seeing a piece of you that no one else had the privilege to witness. Your sloppy side, the clumsy, whiny, touchy side. After that long, passionate night beneath the sheets, the one time you and Ran allowed yourselves the space to be vulnerable with one another...you found yourself pregnant. And Ran found himself being nonethewiser.

He wonders, if he hadn't left the next morning and completely ghosted you...would you have kept him in the picture?

Suddenly, his phone dings. Reaching back to pull it from his back pocket, Ran half expected it to just be another update on the meeting or Rindou cursing at him to hurry his ass back inside. But, it wasn't that at all. And at the sound of your kitten heels rushing out of the building and halting at the top of the steps, Ran didn't even need to look up to know who was glowering down from them.

"Hey, Ma! Guess what, the purple man isn't such a meanie after all!"

Ran snorted, finally looking up from his phone to greet the woman who not only still had his heart, but evidently his first child. You, on the other hand, weren't so thrilled to see him.

"Rika. Wait inside. Ma's got some words for the purple man."

He smirked. "Wanna say 'em over a glass of wine?"

"You son of a-!"

"Bad word!" Your daughter covered her ears. You flushed, your composure nearly slipping just by being in his prescence. Ran, immediately seeing the opportunity, teasingly pouts at you whilst covering her tiny hands with his larger ones, shielding her.

"Honey, please, not in front of the child. Can't have her repeating those dirty words at school, can we?"

You fumed, speaking through clenched teeth. "Haitani, as soon as I get her in this building, away from you, I swear to God, I'm gonna wring your neck."

He hummed, amused. "Well. Guess she didn't get her violent side from me after all. Speaking of which, did you know at school today-"

"Hey! No snitching!"

“...What did you say?”

You were hoping you heard the teacher wrong. Surely it was just your exhaustion taking the wheel. But, when her kind smile didn’t falter, nor did her gushes for the supposed “adorable display”, you immediately grew suspicious.

While heading home from work, you went to pick up your children from daycare. And when you arrived, the teacher merely informed you that it was already taken care of by your very handsome and very devoted husband.

“I-I think you’re mistaken. My boyfriend and I aren’t married…”

The teacher, finally coming back down to earth, tilted her head in confusion. “Eh? You aren’t?”

“Did he…say we were?”

“Well, no. I just assumed since it was easy to tell who he was here for. Hikaru and Kaoru look so much like their daddy.”

You choked on your spit. Hikaru and Kaoru look so much like their daddy. Hikaru and Kaoru look so much like their daddy.

You did everything in your power to keep from strangling the poor woman. Sure, she didn’t do anything wrong per say…but she sure did make a grave error. And your struggle to restrain your intrusive thoughts must’ve shown on your face from the way she placed a concerned hand on your arm. “Are you alright, miss? You look like you’re about to faint.”

“M-Mhm, yep, great, just peachy.” You squeaked through clenched teeth, sweatdrop on your forehead. “Could you um…confirm something for me?”

“Uh.? Er, sure. I’ll try my best.”

With tense shoulders and a tight smile, you asked, “Their…father…did his mouth have two scars in the corners?”

The teacher blinked, confused. Shouldn’t you already know that answer yourself?, she was probably thinking. And she would be right; you did know. But her simple, hesitant nod was the final nail in the coffin that was your delusion—Haruchiyo Sanzu had found you. And to make matters worse, he had the children.

Your smile faltered, twitching ever so slightly. Covering it with a forced chuckle, you cried, “Oh, that’s..wonderful! He’s always been self conscious about them, and I’m j-just.. beaming with joy that he’s embracing them more. Have a nice evening, Ms. Yuki.”

The teacher didn’t get a chance to respond as you quickly turned on your heel and began speed walking home. You’d apologize for your abrupt exit another day…right now there were more important matters to worry about. For instance—How on earth did Sanzu find you? How did he know about the twins and where they were? Oh, God…did he know about Satoru?

Dialing him up a few times only for the calls to go straight to voicemail weren’t reassuring in the slightest, having you rush across oncoming traffic just so you could avoid any further delays for your fraying nerves. You could see your apartment complex up ahead, heart thumping in your throat at the familiar, black SUV parked a couple blocks down. Had it not been for the heavily tinted windows and no license plates, you probably would’ve overlooked it. He knew where you lived. Stomach in knots, muscles stiff, nerves shot. You didn’t know whether to feel relieved or devastated. Your kids were safe at home, but at what cost? You stood in front of the building, rooted to the ground. Despite mentally preparing for this exact scenario for years, it all went down the drain the second you went to that daycare and discovered your children were missing.

It wasn’t until your phone vibrated did you snap out of your thoughts, shakily pulling the device out of your back pocket to check the notification.

from : unknown 1:06 pm “ hi, mama.~ ”

Your stomach twisted. Attached to the message were two photos.

The first photo was of your kids eating McDonald's in the kitchen, happily cheesing and waving at the camera. You couldn't hold your choked gasp, hand coming up to hold your quivering lower lip—They were safe.

The second photo...was of Satoru. Tied to a chair, gagged, and beaten senseless. And standing behind him, holding him by his hair so that he could pose for the camera, grinning like a cheshire cat...

Another message pops up. Your grip tightened around your phone.

from : unknown 1:09 pm " daddy's home.~ "

#🍁wasabi #*weakly holds up to the light*#it...is...FINISHED #tokyorev #tokyo revengers #tokyorev x reader #tokyorev headcanons #tokyo revengers x reader #mikey x reader #mikey sano #manjiro x reader #manjiro sano #ran x reader #ran haitani #sanzu x reader #sanzu haruchiyo

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