#genuinely becoming a bit concerned
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marvel i swear to god if you ralph bohner us and have billy complete the road and say “my wish is to get my dog sparky back :D” im gonna hunt you all down one by one and then kms in front of cinderellas castle
#i thought of this in the shower#and it’s a joke#mostly#genuinely becoming a bit concerned#ralph bohner#i hate you#agatha all along#billy maximoff#billy kaplan#wiccan#rip sparky
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sneeping with his legs up over his head for some reason... weird boye
#cats#love the second picture... skrungly sleepy well rested boye face...#since he's an elderly boy now sometimes when he wakes up from a nap he looks a bit scruffy and squinty eyed#Hard to beleive he's like 15 though.. he still looks like a kitten to me.. due to his giant round creature eyes and childlike demeanor#I think it's interesting that like... baby cats are babies. kittens are kittens. and you can tell a cat is like 'young adult' phase#looking from like a few months to maybe 1yr or 2yrs.. but after that they just always look the same to me#a 5 yr old cat is a 10 yr old cat is a 15 year old cat. unless the cat in question is particulalry aged or youthful#I still have so so little energy... it's been icy here this week. like not even FUN but just scary icy even thoguh i lOOOVE the cold#and its my favorite weather. I think it'd be okay actually if I had a woodburning stove/fireplace/hearth thing. literally thats my only#concern with the power going out. I genuinely don't mind stuff like having to go to the bathroom in buckets or cook over a fire or do other#less conveninet things. Its just that if eveyrhtng is electric then you have no way to cook and all of that. well.. and I literally need#background noise to go to sleep lest my ocd sprials become so loud I am slowly driven into maddness.. but a few battery packs or something#and a phone with one downloaded video I could play on repeat is fine for that. I dont need internet. ANYWAY.. so so sad that my fav#orite season ever (winter) is here. and the first cold of the winter is like... just an ice storm that you cant even walk in. I#love like 4 feet of snow where you can play in it and stuff. But just a thin flat sheet of a few inches of ice over every imaginable surfac#is not really playable. the wind speeds are so high and so many trees fall it's actually not that safe to go hang out outside anyway unless#you were in a totally clear open field. which is SAD also because i love ice and high winds. i love to stand out there and get whipped in t#he face with ice crystals and feel like I'm in some dramatic movie or something. but alas.. the threat of being attacked by a falling tree.#I did go out some but again it's like. literallyyou cant walk on it. so I just squatted and dragged myself along the ground lol#One of my stories has a whole section where the main characters are trapped in a deadly cold environment for a week and have to use magic#to survive and etc. etc. so I'm always like.. ouuu.. I should go in the ice.. it's Writing Research actually.. *foolishly gets frostbite*#THOUGH yesterday I went on a harrowing evil journey down a bunch of icy hilly roads to go check on some person's cat because the cat#had been left in the house for like 5 days at that point with nobody to check on them and nobody else seemed to want to do anything#about it (like call all of the neighbors or try to get someone out there) so I just went myself with a roommate who agreed to drive me.#It seemed acting totally normal and I gave it more food and water but.. I am still worried about it.. Apparently the person will be able#to get back to their house tomorrow but.. I dont trust them. But I couldnt take the cat with me because it's like.. a stranger's cat#basically and also no carrier + very skittish.. so I feared if I just tried to carry them bare handed they'd definitely leap from my grasp#and then it'd be like.. sliding on a sheet of ice chasing a cat and so on.. I still think they need to be watched for health issues tho >:|#ANYWAY.... many cat adventures lately... and strange weather... I wish for a normal week without always so many Things Happening.. augh
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i think i mentioned this a while back but im working on an "every kuwameshi" video right (yes it's ridiculous i know somebody take them away from me) and i just need to say im so fucking sick of editing the saint beasts arc </3 pls i love that one normally but this section of the video is like. 70% silent group shots it's so bad and not fun to watch or edit and i hate it :[
#the rules are: (roughly) every frame they're on screen together and as much of their voices referring to/addressed to each other as possible#(this becomes very complicated during group conversations if you can believe it). so anyway it's TOO MUCH#im also making a much shorter highlights video concurrently bc like. that's a good idea#so you have light dose kuwameshi and EXTREME CLINICAL GRADE kuwameshi for the sickest of us#despite my complaining im almost done w great beasts. yusuke's about to fight suzaku so there's not a lotta kuwa there#truthfully im not too excited about editing the yukina rescue arc either but whatever. at least the highlights video is fun#anyway idc if it's unwatchable idc if everyone including me thinks it sucks the every kuwameshi video is gonna have every kuwameshi i can#possibly put in there from the dub's 112 episodes and im not giving up. im in too deep ok im committed#it's already like 70 mins long... houghh#i kept thinking in their voices last night it's getting genuinely ridiculous. sheesh#but i'll do it. for the bit and my pride if nothing else#also i haven't figured out if i wanna do movies/ova/eizou yet :p we'll see how i feel when i finish this in like 7 months. if it gets done#anyway this is the most insane thing i've ever done probably and if i were my tumblr mutual and i saw this i might be concerned
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Need to do something about mindless scrolling habit but I am sooo tired and I want to keep mindlessly scrolling but also I want to throw my phone out of my window and regain my creativity and drive to do stuff when I was young and not constantly reading something or other on my phone.
#complicated world#because I genuinely Do need background noise I can not concentrate well without music#and I just really really enjoy listening to stuff my entire childhood I've been listening zo stuff I was always an audio drama kid#grew up with casettes and cds and mp3 files they are like a second family to me#i would looooove to become a voice actor someday but I have soooo terrible stage frught and do NOT know how to act#so either i try to change that and try to follow my dream or I give up and just go into set design with the knowledge that i saved myself#the inevitable disappointment#but I really would love to do that one day....#and I know it's a bit concerning whatwith with ai and all being a thing now but still#I'd like to so stuff like that#but also I don't know if todays media is enjoyable enough for me to actually really enjoy it...alas it's not like me getting into a proper#acting school is anything plausible seeing as I have the expression range of a buster keaton knockoff#i also haven't the greatest voice.... i don't really enjoy my voice ... but thts something i can get used to#it'll be okay whatever i do I'll be okay#I'll manage. i always do somehow
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got inspired by a fic i read the other day, but didn't quite hit the right spots for me so. time to write out a new wip idea
The concept of that fic really grabbed me - Jason and Tim having a bodyswap the same day Jason wakes up in his coffin, at a point after Tim had already visited Bruce and Alfred with his insistence that Batman needed a Robin - but for what I was thinking, by the time Jason convinces Bruce and Alfred of who he is, Tim's already started to dig himself out of the coffin. And when the three of them show up at the cemetery, the grave's empty.
Tim would be catatonic and go through much of the same stuff canon Jason went through before being found and dunked in the Pit. He'd end up enduring the whole League of Assassins shtick that canon Jason went through while at the same time Jason is dealing with Tim's regular person life. Both of them struggled a bit trying to imitate the other, but they managed- Tim with not much issue considering no one in the LoA was close to Jason, and Jason trying to manage Janet Drake's clearly growing concern every time he slips up.
Like, imagine Tim, desperately trying to imitate what he knows of Jason from watching Robin on the streets and seeing Jay in a few galas here and there. And one day, Talia tries to tell him he'd been quickly replaced to get him to finally listen and Kill Somebody/accept he was staying with the League until they deemed him fit to leave.
And Tim looks at a picture of himself, hanging around the front yard of Wayne Manor with Bruce, Alfred, and Dick. Another picture showing himself in an ill-fitting Robin uniform on a rooftop and seemingly getting lectured by Batman, who looms in front of him.
And he says "I'm not buyin' it."
Somehow convinces Talia that he's not convinced that the Tim in the photo (who is probably Jason and thank god, Tim was really worried about what happened to Jason's mind- or rather, his own body; he didn't actually consider Jason coming back to life until now) and she arranges a short trip for him to Gotham to see for himself.
Tim really struggles the next two days to keep up the Jason act, but he's pretty sure Talia and the others were just chalking it up to nerves at seeing his family again and the "newest addition".
When he finally gets to Gotham, he doesn't bother being stealthy. He doesn't have the skills- no matter how much Ra's and Talia's goons have been trying to beat it into him- and even if he did, he doubted he'd be able to sneak away from his own teachers that were stalking him from the shadows.
So he does his best to be casual. Walks straight towards Wayne Manor, and when he can actually start to hear his assassin stalkers the tiniest bit as he approaches the gate- a sign they're getting really restless- he decides now or never and bolts the rest of the way.
He thinks, if he had come sooner to Gotham, he would've tried fitting through the gaps in the bars- as if he was still 13 and small enough to fit- but as it is, Tim's spent 6 months in this body and he's not going to make that mistake.
Instead he slams a hand on the buzzer and says as fast as he can, "it's Tim! Tim Drake! There's assassins, open the gate!"
He has a heartstopping moment when nothing happens- when there's no answer and the ninjas are getting closer and closer and- And then it opens and Tim doesn't stop with his relief, he runs.
The door is opened not by Mr. Pennyworth, but by Bruce himself, a belt clipped around his waist, but entirely in sleepwear. He has something in his other hand and as he yells, "duck!" Tim can only think it's some kind of bomb and dives for the ground.
He was sort of right. It was a smoke bomb. He heard and smelled it hissing away behind him, and saw the cloud of smoke in his peripheral vision.
Bruce wasted no time running past him and barking, "Follow Alfred to the cave!" Tim took a moment to just breathe, feeling much more safe with Batman fighting to protect him. When Bruce looked back at him through a spot in the smoke, he yelled, "Go!"
Tim scrambled to obey, trying to run and stand and awkwardly doing both to get in the home. Mr. Pennyworth was just inside the foyer, out of sight of the windows, now that Tim noticed, and holding a shotgun.
He was also wearing a fluffy blue bathrobe and fuzzy pink bunny slippers.
Tim blinked. "Uhhh,"
"Come along, Master Tim. We must be quick."
He didn't protest and followed him down to the Cave, where Jason in Tim's body sat waiting at the Batcomputer.
Man, I'm not completely sure on the timing, but imagine Tim finally getting back into his body and it's- he's taller than he used to be, bulkier too. And there are reflexes and muscle memory stuff he doesn't remember at all, but now just has.
He- he was Robin. Or, his body at least, and he felt like it. But he never was Robin. Not really. He never got a proper outing, never even received Bruce's official approval for it.
It was strange. And not totally a good strange.
He thought about the body he had. He didn't have a lot of love for it- puberty would do that to anyone- but it was his. And that saying about not knowing what you have until you lose it? Yeah.
Tim felt like crying.
#dc#bodyswap#tim drake#nemotime#didnt really focus on the jason bits here but if i ever actually write this- jay would probably get more of a comedy/humour role?#like yeah they gotta find tim and tim's parents are genuinely concerned and all#but much of it would be just funny shenanigans of Jason being saddled with two sets(?) of worried parents#and just when he manages to get things sort of under control. Dick shows up#i havent yet decided if he just becomes Very Annoying Older Sibling who has no idea how to process his emotions currently#and tries to fall back on tried and true tactics#OR if he is in Complete Denial and thinking this was just an elaborate ruse by Tim & lists the exact ways Tim would know how to imitate Jay#(he's right and each accusation/point would probably be juxtaposed with a brief switch in scenes to whatever Tim is currently up to#which also happens to prove Dick's point exactly even though no one can except the audience can see that)#Jay would knock sense into Dick eventually but the point is. I could make his life humourous suffering :3#Either way Dick would show up some time after Bruce remembers to call him & he would Not leave the manor until Tim is back safe and sound#(not for Jason obviously. pfft. Jason's just fine. Dick doesn't need to stay at the manor to make sure of it. He's just staying to find Tim#okay. realistically. this would just be a hella lot of angst. However! Having that shift from Angst with Tim to Laughing at Jason would be.#so fun.#tho i'd probably still sprinkle in some Angst with Jason bc i cant help myself lol
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How will I ever learn to cope when it's this easy to just go "Sascha Sascha attention me" and he'll just do it? Like???
#I'm not complaining i feel very good about this lol I'm just saying. i have an issue with being alone and it's becoming so much easier to#just avoid ever at all spending any time alone than like. dealing with my fucking insanity because I'm forced to u know#like I bet if I like. work a bit more on my social anxiety I'll find more people i can just go attention attention me now🥺🥺🥺 at#i probably already could it just makes me more anxious than being alone and Sascha just like. has made it so so easy to go hiiii#your time now?#i just wish I would learn to cope somehow lol. like I'm not a lonely shut in who's being insane about their being alone cause it's#genuinely concerning like I literally spent time with five different cool people yesterday#i should ask Allan for his number next time I see him lol#but I'm just. alone for a day and immediately my brain turns to goo?? what the fuck
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the poly!marauders and lily x shy!reader!!!!! I genuinely cannot handle how much I love it omg🫠🫠 would u be willing to make it a series??
maybe remus being overprotective/possessive of her before the full moon and she’s just like ???? bc she doesn’t know about his furry problem🫣 but the rest of the group are just really casual about the way he’s acting like “oh yeah he does this sometimes, just ignore it” and r is just like 🤔?? bc he literally won’t let her go and wants her by his side and lap all day!!
aaaaaah my mind got carried away after reading ur amazing fic🩷🩷
so. stinkin. cute (thoughts and prayers for our shy!reader fr)
poly!marauders + lily x shy!reader close to Remus' time of the month
pt 1 // pt 2 // pt 3 // pt 4 // pt 5
CW: love bite/hickies, man-handling Remus [ik, ik]
You had been…seeing the boys and Lily for long enough now to have noticed a few peculiarities.
Black envelopes with green wax melts on the front that were delivered to Sirius were always confiscated immediately by Lily. Following the envelope's arrival, the rest of the group tended to fawn over Sirius for the rest of the day.
James was incredibly bright as a student in all subjects except Ancient Runes; prior to any quizzes or assignments, the group would play a game of “question pong” which was a twist on the muggle game ‘beer pong’ where cups were lined up and James would aim a ping pong ball and have to answer a question that was placed inside the cup that he had scored in. This amount of effort wasn’t placed into any of the others’ studies.
And what was obviously something the boys were ultimately accustomed to doing for Lily now extended to you when you couldn’t help but notice that at least one of them always escorted you to any of your classes in the dungeons.
Another peculiarity, however, seemed to centre around Remus.
Once a month, the group got a bit…sketchy before the three boys would disappear for about a day and then return basically back to normal.
Lily seemed to be accepting of these occurrences, so you opted not to concern yourself with it either; if it was something you needed to know, they’d tell you.
Right?
Because, you see, the sketchiness wasn’t just limited to their comings and goings; but rather Remus himself.
He was a tactile person, that much you knew to be true. He almost always had a hand on one of his partners, a boyfriend or a girlfriend in his lap, or an arm around someone’s shoulders.
And yes, you’d been growing increasingly accustomed to the affection.
But it seemed to you that around these bouts of…sketchiness, the affection seemed to grow into something rather possessive.
For example; it became clear to you that out of the three boys, James and Sirius were the ones who had a particular problem with Severus Snape, but during said period of said sketchiness, Remus nearly growled when he saw Lily and Snape discussing the upcoming Potions exam before he latched himself onto Lily’s side until Severus finally left.
And then at the quidditch game against Ravenclaw, a group of girls behind you, Lily, and Remus were giggling over how ‘fit the Gryffindor captain was’ which led to Remus standing abruptly, moving to lean against the railing of the Gryffindor stands to wave James over before he pressed a searing kiss to the chasers lips leaving them both rather breathless.
And then there was the party in the Ravenclaw common room for Benjy Fenwicks birthday where you, Lily, and Remus had been sitting watching James and Sirius dance with Marlene and Mary before Gilderoy Lockhart slid up behind Sirius in an attempt to dance with him. Sirius hardly had a chance to react before Remus was on the dancefloor and pulling his boyfriend into him, slotting their hips together and swaying sinfully to the beat all while maintaining eye contact with Gilderoy.
It seems important to note that Remus doesn’t dance.
All this to say, Remus got…sketchy.
But all of this had nothing on how he seemed to become around you.
You weren’t sure what caused the difference; perhaps it was because you were new to the group, perhaps it was because you were shy, or perhaps it was because he was more confident in his and the others’ roles within the dynamic. Either way, you were certain you were simply going to combust from the sheer amount of attention being devoted to you by your quietest boy.
You could hardly breathe or blink without him noticing, it seemed. And if you were within his vicinity, you were in his arms or on his lap.
Like right now…
You’d no sooner entered the Great Hall when you spotted Lily’s fiery red hair and made for the group before you were being man-handled to sit on the bench between his thighs.
“You almost missed breakfast, dove.” He offered quietly as he started preparing a plate for you right in front of your eyes.
“Jeez Moony, whatever happened to good morning.” Sirius teased as he shot you a wink.
“Morning angel.” James offered quickly as Lily smiled softly at you.
“Oh, hi! I..uhm, I’m not that hungry, Rem.” You tried, but it was apparently the wrong thing to say.
Remus’ movements hardly faltered as he continued buttering an english muffin for you, but everyone else seemed to freeze in their movements as they watched the two of you with bated breaths.
“Breakfast is important.” He said simply.
And believing he was quite close to actually hand feeding you the english muffin, you simply took it from his hands and shrunk into his chest at the attention.
You felt your heart leap both in affection and embarrassment as you felt him press his lips to your neck as you ate, looking to the other three in hopes of help or explanation, of which you received neither.
“I was wondering if you wanted to have a sleepover with me tonight?” Lily asked you as she sipped from her tea.
“Oh, I uhm…sure, that’d be nice. Is everyone going to be there?”
Remus kept his face pressed to your neck but the others shared a glance.
“No, we have a Marauders thing to attend to tonight, sweetness. Can we call dibs for the weekend?” Sirius offered, but his attempt was quickly shot down by Remus.
“Tomorrow.” He muttered from your neck as you fought the urge to shiver at the tickle of his breath.
“What about the night after that?” Lily tried again.
You let out a surprised (and perhaps nervous) squeak when Remus’ embrace tightened around your middle.
“Tomorrow.”
“Moons…” James tried, which finally got Remus’ face out from your neck in order to glare at his boyfriend.
“Tomorrow will be fine.” He proclaimed with an air of finality before he shoved his face unceremoniously back into your neck and latched his mouth to your jugular, eliciting another surprised yelp from your lips.
“How’s that for a good morning, Y/N?” Sirius asked with a wink.
You spent the rest of your breakfast wondering if this was your own personal heaven or your own personal hell.
Jury was still out by the time you left the Great Hall with a love bite displayed above the collar of your uniform.
#marauders era#marauders au#marauders fanfiction#reader insert#self insert#sirius black#remus lupin#james potter#lily evans#poly!marauders#poly!marauders + lily#poly!marauders fluff#poly!marauders imagine#poly!marauders x reader#poly!marauders x you#poly!marauders + lily x reader#poly!marauders + lily x you#sirius black x reader#sirius black x you#remus lupin x reader#remus lupin x you#james potter x reader#james potter x you#lily evans x you#lily evans x reader#lily evans x fem!reader#ellecdc fics
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𝐇𝐈𝐂𝐊𝐄𝐘 𝐏𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐊
Gojo. Geto. Sukuna. Nanami. Choso. Toji. Megumi. Itadori. Yuta. Inumaki.
◈ — 𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎
Gojo certainly would notice if there is something ‘odd’ and won’t hesitate to point it out, “Is that hickey? I don’t remember leaving it there though.” He squints his eyes behind his blindfold as if his Six Eyes is lying to him. Indeed, he will always remember every mark he left on you, so he does become suspicious. He’d mock the appearance of the hickey once he catches on and plays into your game, “That can’t be mine. It’s too faint, look at that,” and with a cheeky grin, he’ll give you an actual hickey, big and noticeable.
◈ — 𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐎
Geto is an attentive listener, he stays quiet and listens to you closely when you talk. When he notices the hickey, he stays silent and his expression doesn’t change. He decided it’s best to keep it to himself until you finish talking. “Is that hickey, love? I don’t remember leaving you any last night,” he’d ask, his tone somewhat passive-aggressive. He’d make a move by touching the spot with his thumb, smearing the made-up mark, and chuckle lightly afterward. “You’re naughty, sweetheart.”
◈ — 𝐒𝐔𝐊𝐔𝐍𝐀
Sukuna would notice right away when he sees you in sight. “What was that?” He’d ask with a raised brow with a commanding tone, he expected you to be honest with him. When you play dumb, he’d ask you again as he stands up from his seat, “I’m asking you. What is that.” He holds your nape, making you face him still. He’d analyze the mark properly before laughing shortly, “This looks so bad. Let me show you what a real hickey looks like.” He manages to fill your neck to your shoulder with his deep colored mark.
◈ — 𝐍𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐈
Nanami has a sharp eye, he’d notice right away. He looks at it in silence with his usual stoic, serious face before he speaks calmly to the point, “You have a hickey, love. Who gave it to you?” Honestly, he’s already used to your antics, and it doesn’t take long for him to figure out that the hickey doesn’t look like the usual ones he gave you. “If you want one, you should just ask me. No need to waste time and effort to make one yourself.” He knows, and he’s unbothered so he just flows along with it for you.
◈ — 𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐎
Choso would notice the hickey on your neck and the confusion would be written all over his face. He’ll double-check on your neck and at you, “There’s a mark... on your neck,” he looks at your skin. “Are you okay? Is it a bruise? Or is it from me?” He asks, genuinely curious and a bit concerned as he looks intently at the hickey with his eyebrows slightly furrowed. He doesn’t want to touch it for some reason. He’ll let out a small “Oh...” when you admit it to him after how long he’s been staring at it.
◈ — 𝐓𝐎𝐉𝐈
Toji would be as nonchalant as ever. He doesn’t notice it at first, but the more he stares at you, the more he keeps looking at the hickey with the way his gaze sharpens every second as if he's analyzing the whole mark placed on that particular spot of your body. “That’s a terrible hickey, by the way. Whoever gave it to you suck ass, 'cause that’s not mine for sure,” he snickers. “Let me give you a good one,” he murmurs as he pulls you closer by the nape.
◈ — 𝐌𝐄𝐆𝐔𝐌𝐈
Megumi doesn’t want to point it out at first, deciding to just leave it for now, but he can’t seem to take his eyes away from the mark and he can’t help but be curious. “Hey, there’s a hickey there,” he points with his eyes. He’d then ask, “From where did you get it?” because he wants to hear it directly from you since he doesn’t remember leaving one on you recently. He’d take the initiative to touch it himself where he realizes it’s only makeup, not realizing that he just let out a small sigh of relief.
◈ — 𝐈𝐓𝐀𝐃𝐎𝐑𝐈
Itadori wouldn’t even notice it’s fake. He thinks it’s the one he left behind since he tends to give you small hickeys of affection after he kissed you. “Looks like you still have the hickey I gave you,” he grins widely when points it out. He’d even show you off his own hickeys that you left for him and end up rambling about it, “Did you know I have a few too? You gave me this one yesterday, and this one three days ago, oh, I really like this one, the color looks nice, you did a really good job on that, and this one—”
◈ — 𝐘𝐔𝐓𝐀
Yuta would be a bit shy since it’s exposed so others would know that he left that on you but at the same time he just realized that he was not around you for a few days. He taps your shoulder gently to talk, beating around the bush at first since he doesn’t want to assume you’d go behind his back, he just doesn’t know to address it to you without the fear of offending your feelings. Once you’re done enjoying his flustered reaction, you finally reveal that it’s just a prank, and he’d let out a big sigh of relief, “Oh, wow, that looks real! How did you do that? Can I give you a real one instead?”
◈ — 𝐈𝐍𝐔𝐌𝐀𝐊𝐈
Inumaki glares at the hickey, looking at it and to your eyes in disapproval, waiting for you to take the hint that he doesn’t like what he’s seeing. When you say that the hickey is from him, he immediately shakes his head and crosses his arms to deny it. When he looks more closely, he becomes suspicious at the ‘oddness’ and rubs it with his finger just to make sure it’s what he thinks it is. When the makeup smears on his fingers, he’ll smile smugly and smear it on your cheek just to make fun of you.
Looks like I need to warm up ☝️
#ೋღ—物語.#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jjk x reader#jujutsu kaisen#jjk#jujutsu kaisen headcanons#jjk headcanons#gojo x reader#gojo satoru x reader#geto x reader#geto suguru x reader#sukuna x reader#nanami x reader#nanami kento x reader#choso x reader#toji x reader#fushiguro toji x reader#megumi x reader#fushiguro megumi x reader#itadori x reader#itadori yuji x reader#yuta x reader#yuuta okkotsu x reader#inumaki x reader#jujutsu kaisen x female reader
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decided to crack open my skull and pour the contents of my brain onto the keyboard. thought the denizens of tumblr might enjoy it. bon appetite
Mech Pilot Care guide
You never expect it, do you. Even as you see the flashes of pulse-decay fire in the sky, illuminating a scene of violence on the cosmic scale. Planetary defense satellites forming Monolithic structures in the sky, their purpose now revealed as they scatter constellations of destruction across the night horizon, drowning out the stars and replacing them with ones born of death. The oxygen in a ship catching fire and burning away in an instant, a flash of light that marks the death of its crew of hundreds. Even if you take your telescope to watch this spectacle, this war in a place without screams, you still feel profoundly disconnected from it. Even as you see a pilot cleave through a drone hive with a fusion blade, the molten metal glistening in the light of the explosions around it, scattering without gravity to the corners of the universe, even as two mechs dance across the sky, their reactors pouring into the engines enough energy to power the house atop which you sit for ten thousand years, flying in a 3.5 dimensional dance with only one word to the song that can reach across the vacuum: “I Will Kill You.” you don’t feel even the slightest glimpse of what goes on inside their minds. You don’t feel the neurological feedback tearing across the brain-computer interface, filling her mind with more simultaneous pain and elation that an unmodified human could ever experience. You don’t feel it as the pneumatic lance punctures through steel and nanocarbon polymer, the mech AI sending floods of a sensation you could never truly know through the skull and into every corner of the body carried on enhanced nerves for every layer of armor punctured, tearing into the enemy chassis with a desire beyond anything the flesh can provide. Let the stars kill each other. After all, I am safe on earth. No, you don’t expect it when the star is hit with a sub-relativistic projectile, piercing through both engines in an instant. You don’t expect it to fall. You never would have expected it to land, the impact nearly vaporizing the soil and setting trees aflame, on the hill beyond your house, and you would never have expected, beneath the layers of cooling slag, for the life-support indicator light to still be visible.
All the fire extinguishers in your house, your old plasma cutter that you haven’t used in years, and whatever medical supplies you think they might still be able to benefit from. All that on a hoverbike, speeding at 120 kilometers per hour through the valley and up onto the hill, still illuminated by the battle above, unsurprisingly unchanged by this new development. 200 meters. 100 meters. You don’t know how much time you’ve got. It wasn’t exactly covered in school, how long a pilot can survive in an overheating frame. You’ve heard rumors, of course, of what these things that used to be human have become. That they don’t eat and barely need air. That they don’t feel any desire beyond what instructions are pumped directly into their brains. Not so much of a person as much as an attack dog. It’s understandably a bit concerning, as if they are alive, then it’s not guaranteed that you will be. Three fire extinguishers later, the surface of the mech is mostly solid, and the cutter slices through the exterior plating. With a satisfying crunch, the cockpit is forced open, revealing the pilot, and confirming a few of the rumors, while refuting others. Pilots, it seems, are not quite emotionless. In fact, there seems to be genuine fear on its face when it sees you, followed by… a sort of grim certainty as it opens its mouth, moves its jaw into a strange position, and you only have half a second to react before it would have bitten down with all its force on the tooth that seemed to be made of a different material then all the rest.
Your thumb is definitely bleeding, and is caught between a metamaterial-based dental implant, and one containing a military-grade neurotoxin. You’re not sure exactly why you did it. The pilot looks at you for a second, before the tubes that attach to its arms like puppet strings run out of stimulants, and it passes out after who knows how long without sleep. This battle has been going on for weeks already. Has it been fighting that long? Its various frame-tethered implants disconnect easily, the unconscious pilot draped over your shoulder twitching slightly with each one you remove. It’s a much longer ride back to the house. Avoiding having the pilot fall off the bike is the top priority, and the injured thumb stings in the fast-moving air.
An internet search doesn’t lead to many helpful sources to the question of “there is a mech pilot on my couch, what do I do?” a few articles about how easy targets retired pilots are for the “doll sellers,” a few military recruitment ads, and a couple near-incomprehensible legal documents full of words like “proprietary technology” or “instant termination.” However, there is one link, a few rows down from the top-- “Mech Pilot Care Guide.” It’s a detailed list, arranged in numbered steps. The website has no other links on it, just the step-by-step instructions: a quick read reveals that this isn’t going to be easy, but looking at the unconscious pilot, unabsorbed chemicals dripping from the ports in its arms and head onto the mildly bloodstained towel, you come to the conclusion that there’s no other option.
Step one: the first 24 hours.
The first thing you should know is that pilots aren’t used to sleeping. They’re used to being put under for transport and storage, but after the neural augmentations and years of week-long battles sustained by stimulants that would fry the brain of anyone that still has an intact one, they’ve more or less forgotten what real sleep is. If they see you asleep, they’ll think you’re dead, so don’t try to let them stay in your room yet. Once you’ve removed the neurotoxin from the tooth (it breaks easily with a bit of applied pressure, but be careful not to let any fall into their mouth or onto your skin.), start by moving them into a chair (preferably a recliner or gaming chair, as the mech seat is about halfway in between), and putting a heavy blanket over them. Don’t worry, they don’t need as much air as normal humans do, and can handle high temperatures up to a point. This is an environment similar to the one they’re used to. It’ll stay like this for about 12 hours-- barely breathing, trembling slightly underneath the blanket. Feel free to check if it’s alive every few hours, not that you could help it if it wasn’t. It won’t freak out when it wakes up. In fact, it doesn’t seem like they can. Turn down the lights and remove the blanket from its face. It’ll stare blankly at you, trying to evaluate the situation with a brain that’s not connected to a computer that’s bigger than they are anymore. Coming to terms, if you could call it that, with the fact that it isn’t dead. Don’t expect it to start reacting to things for a while yet, give it a couple hours.
It’s been a bit, and its eyes are starting to focus on you. The next thing you should know is this: pilots only have two groups into which they can categorize non-pilots: handler and enemy. You need to work on making sure you’re in the right one. Move slowly, standing up and walking toward them, making sure they can see where you’re going to step. Place both hands on their shoulders, then slide one under their arm and carefully pick them up. Don’t be startled by how light they are, or how they still shake slightly as they realize their arms don’t have anything connected to them. Most importantly, don’t break. Don’t reflect on how something can be done to a person so that this is all that’s left. Just focus on rotating them as if you’re inspecting all the brain-computer interface ports, while holding them at half an arm’s length. Set them back down, wrap the blanket around them, then lean in close and say “status report.” they won’t say anything, as they usually upload the data via interface, but what’s important is that now they recognise you as their handler. Their entire mind will be focused on the fact that they exist now to do what you want. Now it’s up to you to prove them wrong.
Step two: the first week.
They’re shaking so hard that you’ve had to move them from the chair back to the couch, sweating heavily as they pant like the dog they’ve been trained to think they are. This was to be expected, really. Pilots are constantly being filled with a mix of stimulants, painkillers, and who knows what else, and you’ve just cut them off completely. You’ve woken up several times in the night and rushed to check if they’re still breathing, debating whether you should try to tell them that they’re going to be okay. The guide says they’re not ready for that yet, whatever that means. They’re still wearing the suit you found them in, made from nanofiber mesh and apparently recycling nutrients and water before re-infusing them intravenously. It’s been three days since you tore them out of the lump of metal atop the hill outside. Long enough that the suit’s battery, apparently, has run out. You lift them gently from the couch and carry them to the bathroom. The shower’s been on for the past hour or so, meaning the temperature should be high enough. You set them on their chair, which you’ve rolled there from the living room and covered with a towel. Removing the suit normally isn’t done except in between missions, and it’s only done to exchange it for a new one. Without the proper tools, you’ve opted for a pair of scissors. Cutting through the suit takes a bit of time, but you manage to cut a sizable line from the neck down to the front to the bottom of the torso. The pilot recoils slightly from the cold metal against their skin, but you manage to peel off the suit without incident, The Temperature of which was roughly the same as the steam filling the room, and you’ve done your best to minimize air currents. They’ve got a bit more shape to them than you expected of someone who’s been so heavily modified. Perhaps what little fat storage it provides helps on longer missions, or perhaps this is for the purposes of marketing. Just another recruitment ad that appeals to baser instincts. Either way, it doesn’t matter. Using a cloth with the least noticeable texture possible, you wash off as much sweat and dead skin as you can, avoiding the various interface and IV ports, as you’re not yet sure that they’re waterproof. Embarrassment is the enemy of efficiency, so you’re slightly glad that their eyes never completely focus on you. They shift their weight slightly, however. Despite the difficulty moving with their current symptoms, they lean in the direction opposite the places you wash once you're done, allowing you to more easily access the places you haven’t got to yet. An act of trust that you have a suspicion they weren't “programmed” to do. As they dry out, you prepare for the difficult part. You take the blanket that previously wrapped around their suit, and gently touch a corner of it to their shoulder. Pilots are used to an amount of sensory information that would overload any normal human in an instant, but most rarely experience textures against their skin. After about half an hour, they’re used to it enough that you’re able to replace what’s left of the suit with it, and after another you’re able to wrap them in it again. You carry them back to the couch, and place a few of your old shirts next to their hand. They pick one and touch it with one finger before recoiling slightly. Eventually, they’ll be used to at least one of them enough that they can wear it. It’s slow progress, but it’s progress.
Step 3: food
It goes without saying that it’s usually been at least a year since they’ve eaten anything. The augmentations scooped out much of their knowledge on how to survive as a human, assuming that they would die before ever needing to be one again. Start them off with just flavors. Give them a chance to pick favorites by giving them a wide selection and firmly telling them to try all of them. Avoid anything solid for the first month or so, both because they can’t digest it and because they associate chewing with their self-destruct mechanism. Trying to and surviving might make them think the “mission’s fully compromised” and attempt to improvise. They’ll typically pick out favorites quickly with their enhanced senses, so once they’ve sampled everything, tell them to pick one. Remember it, not in order to use it as a reward or anything, but them still being able to have a “favorite” anything is something you should keep in mind for later.
Use a similar method anytime they become able to handle the next level of solidity. Don’t be alarmed if one of their favorite foods is the meat that’s most similar to humans (such as pork.) they’re not going to eat you, they just will have already formed an association between that flavor and the moment they went from being a weapon to living in your house. Don’t worry about your thumb getting infected, by the way. Pilots barely have a microbiome.
Step 4: entertainment:
Roll them over to your computer and give them access to your game library. No, really. They need enrichment, and there’s only one activity that they’re able to enjoy at the moment. A simulation of it will make the shift from weapon to guest easier. Start them off with an FPS with a story. Don’t go multiplayer, as your account may get banned for being suspected of using aimbots. Watch as they progress the story. The military left pilots with just enough of a personality to allow them to improvise, and that should be enough for them to make decisions on this level. They won’t do much character customization, but keep an eye on which starting character body shape they pick. No pilot would consciously think they have enough of a “Self” to still have a gender, but keep track of the ones they pick in the games. As for the one you’ve found, it appears that she’s got a player-character preference. You even saw her nudge one of the appearance sliders before clicking “start game.” Whether this means that a pilot doesn’t think of themselves as “it” or that it means there’s still enough of their mind left for them to know there’s more to themselves than the body they have, it’s a handy bit of information to know. Some pilots might have had this decision influenced by their handlers having referred to them as “she” in the way it refers to boats, but still, on some level they always know that “it” meant that they’re a weapon.
Step 6: outside:
There’s a profound difference between experiencing the world through information fed directly into your brain and standing up for the first time, wandering around the room and investigating with hands not made of a half-ton of metal. She’s not used to feeling the air on her skin as she stands in front of the window, visual data coming from two eyes instead of seven cameras. It’ll take a while to get used to it again. New old data, reminiscent of a time before she’s been trained not to remember. It’ll take a while until she’s walking like a human and not a mech, as the muscles used are different, and the ones to hold herself upright haven’t been used in a while. She’s going to fall down at least once. Be sure you’re standing next to her when it happens, as pilots that fall aren’t trained to think they can get back up. It’s worth it, though, when she opens the door herself and strides into the yard, still wobbly but standing. Be careful not to let her look into the sun, partially because it looks nearly identical to the barrel of a pulse-decay blaster milliseconds before it fires. She would get hurt trying to dodge it. It will be somewhat confusing for her, standing on a hill as she once did, but not contained within a 12-meter metal chassis. A feeling of being small and alone without the voices of the computer. This means it’s time for step seven.
Step 7:
All this time, and any idea that she’s still a person has, for her, been subconscious. Any thought of humanity is stopped when it slams into the wall of her handlers and mech AIs reminding her for years before now that she is a weapon. She’ll still ask for your permission before doing just about anything, and that’s just the rare times that she’ll do something you don’t tell her to. Even after you’ve moved her into your room, she’ll still try to sleep on the floor. She still thinks that beds are only for humans. Kneel next to her as she curls into a ball on the ground, assuming that’s what she’s supposed to do. Expect her to try to move down to the foot of the bed after you set her down on it. Gently move her back up until her head’s on the pillow. Sit on the edge of the bed, and hold out your hand to her. After a bit, she’ll take it, wrapping both hands around it and tracing her fingers along the scar on your thumb. Lie down next to her, an arm’s length apart. Place your other hand on her forearm, then slide it up her arm to her shoulder. Don’t move too quickly, and don’t surprise her. Whisper softly but audibly every movement you’re going to make in advance. Move in a bit closer, until you’re wrapped in her arms. Mech pilots aren’t used to this. They aren't used to feeling someone next to them. Not above them, but next to them, getting exactly as much out of this as they are. Even after several months, many won’t admit they deserve it. You wouldn’t waste time lying next to a gun. So why do they feel so strongly that they don’t want you to leave? Why do they hold on tighter? They often feel they’re doing something wrong. Overstepping a boundary. There’s a rift between what they want and what they’re told they can want that nearly tears their mind in half, and it hurts. No normal human will ever know how much it hurts them to think they’ve broken some instruction, that they feel things they aren’t allowed to. Nobody said it was easy, learning how to become human again. Tell her it’s okay. That she’s allowed to feel this way. She still won’t know why. It’s time to tell her. The guide can’t tell you what to say, only that you have to say it. It has to come from you. You have to be the one that tells her what she is underneath all the modifications. It’s time, say it.
“Do you feel that? Do you feel your heart start to beat faster as it presses up against mine? Do you feel your own breath against your skin after it reflects off my shoulder? Do you feel your muscles start to tighten as I slide my hand across them, then relax because you know it means that you are safe? It’s because you’re alive. Because despite everything, you’re still alive. Still someone left after all the changes, all the augmentations. And I know you’re someone because you are someone that likes food a bit spicier than most would prefer. Someone that closes her eyes and gets lost in music whenever it’s playing. Someone that added that one piece of customization to her character, even though they would wear a helmet for most of the game and nobody would know it was there but you. Maybe you aren’t the same person you were before. Maybe they did take some things from you that nothing can give back. But you’re still someone. Someone that people can still care about, and I know because I do.”
You can feel her tears drip down onto your neck as she pulls you closer. She tries to say something, but you can’t understand what. You tell her it’s okay. That it’s not easy, and that she doesn’t have to pretend that it is. Not for you, and not for anyone anymore. She doesn’t have to be useful anymore. No need to keep it together. All that matters is that she’s alive.
There’s another battle going on in the night sky outside. The same flashes of light you saw the night you stopped living alone, even if the other person couldn’t admit that they were one yet. She still flinches at the brighter bursts of pulse-decay fire, still stretches out her hand on reflex to prime a pneumatic lance that isn’t there. But she knows it’s not her, it’s just a ghost of the weapon that died when it hit the ground. You can feel her relax as she realizes this, moving her hand back to dry her face before reaching out towards yours. You hadn’t noticed the tears on your own face. You place your hand on hers as she wipes the corner of your eye. Outside and above, the war continues on a cosmic scale, so far apart from where you both are now that you barely notice it. Let the stars kill each other. After all, the one before you has already fallen, and she doesn’t have to return to the sky. Together, you are safe on earth.
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little protector
Katsuki bakugo x fem!reader
Summary: Bakugo and the reader get into an argument that leads to an emotional moment, with the reader upset and their young son witnessing it. The son, who is around four years old, becomes a little protector, comforting his mom and showing love even when his dad is mad. When Bakugo returns, he faces the consequences of his actions with his son's silent disapproval
The argument had started over something small, as they always did with Bakugo. He was stubborn, fiery, and sometimes too prideful for his own good. You’d tried to keep your cool, but his sharp tone and harsh words had worn you down until your voice cracked, tears spilling before you could stop them.
“Why do you always have to blow everything out of proportion, Katsuki?” you said, your voice trembling.
“Because I’m right, that’s why!” he barked back, his crimson eyes flashing with frustration. But the moment he saw the tears on your cheeks, his expression faltered. He opened his mouth to say something, but instead, he scoffed and stormed out, slamming the door behind him.
The house fell silent except for your soft sniffles as you sat on the couch, wiping at your face. You didn’t hear the little footsteps until a small hand tugged on your sleeve.
“Mommy?” a tiny voice asked.
You looked down to see your four-year-old son standing beside you, his big red eyes—so much like Bakugo’s—filled with concern.
“Hey, sweetheart,” you said, quickly wiping your cheeks again. “What’s wrong?”
He didn’t answer right away, instead climbing onto your lap and wrapping his arms around your neck in a firm hug. “Daddy’s mean,” he said quietly, his little face pressed against your shoulder.
You sighed, running a hand through his messy blond hair. “He’s not mean, baby. He just gets mad sometimes.”
Your son pulled back slightly, his small hands resting on your cheeks as he looked at you with a serious expression. “Even when I’m mad, I still love you, Mommy. Daddy should do that too.”
His words broke something in you, and fresh tears spilled over, though this time they were a mix of sadness and overwhelming love for the little boy in your arms.
“I love you so much, sweetheart,” you whispered, holding him close.
The front door opened, and heavy footsteps echoed through the hallway. Bakugo walked into the room, his expression guarded, though his eyes softened when they landed on you and your son.
Your son, however, wasn’t having it. He turned in your lap, crossing his tiny arms over his chest and glaring at Bakugo with all the defiance his four-year-old self could muster.
“Daddy, you made Mommy cry,” he said, his voice firm.
Bakugo froze, his eyes flickering between you and your son. “I… I didn’t mean to—”
Your son cut him off, turning his head away with a dramatic huff. “I’m not talking to you.”
You bit back a small laugh despite yourself, watching as Bakugo looked genuinely panicked for a moment. He rubbed the back of his neck, letting out a frustrated sigh before crouching in front of the two of you.
“Hey, kid,” he started, his voice softer than usual. “Look, I was being a dumbass, okay? I didn’t mean to make your mom cry.”
Your son didn’t respond, still pointedly looking away. Bakugo’s gaze shifted to you, and for a moment, his tough exterior cracked.
“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice low but sincere. “To both of you.”
You nodded, seeing the genuine remorse in his eyes. “Apology accepted. But you’ve got some making up to do.”
Bakugo sighed, then turned back to his son, who was still glaring at him. “Come on, kid. Don’t make me beg.”
After a long pause, your son finally looked at him, his arms still crossed. “You gotta say sorry to Mommy again. And hug her.”
Bakugo’s lips twitched into a small smirk as he glanced at you. “You heard the boss.”
He leaned over, wrapping his arms around both you and your son. “I’m sorry,” he murmured, his voice soft. “I’ll do better.”
Your son finally uncrossed his arms, resting his head on your shoulder as he mumbled, “Okay, but don’t make Mommy cry again.”
Bakugo chuckled, pressing a kiss to your temple. “Deal, little man. Deal.”
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Man, there’s all these little beats in OFMD S2 1-3 where people keep EXPECTING Stede to be upset or horrified about Ed’s actions and then he’s just. Not. In a way that reminded me of how a lot of fanon kept softening Stede into someone who doesn’t swear and is horrified at Ed for setting those ships on fire when imo to my eyes he was horrified for Ed because Ed was still so clearly distressed about it.
- Zheng Yi Sao asks Stede how he’s doing now that he knows Ed did horrible things to his crew and there’s this beat and Stede just pivots to, oh yeah, sometimes Ed is troubled. Like it didn’t occur to him to be upset on the crew’s behalf he’s worried about Ed.
- Izzy keeps trying to spare Stede’s feelings and cover up Ed’s spiral, but Stede clocked what was going on with Ed immediately and wasn’t the least bit intimidated or bothered. The knives brought the room together. Of course Ed’s trying to burn the world down or die trying. Duh. And I genuinely don’t think the STUFF in the Revenge mattered even a fraction to Stede as much as the signs of Ed’s breakdown broke his heart. It’s just STUFF, who cares.
- Lucius had to SPECIFICALLY call out Stede for not being surprised or bothered by what happened to him. What Ed did. Stede has to almost consciously remind himself to express polite concern. He just doesn’t actually care, instinctively or automatically, about what happened to Lucius. Part of it is he blames himself more than Ed. Part of it is he just doesn’t care, Ed is the priority.
They’re little blink and you’ll miss it pauses in some cases. Micro-expressions. The absence of a reaction. But honestly, I will scream it to the end of time, Stede is not some nonviolent creampuff scared or upset by Ed’s evil ways. He wants to join Ed in the atrocities. The man ran away to become a pirate. He asked if Lucius was taking notes during a murderous raid.
Stede’s at least a little on some kind of whackadoodle pirate comedy neurodivergence spectrum to the point where he actually really actually struggles to empathize with people, even people he cares about!, if their feelings conflict with his hyperfixation (piracy) and the love of his life (Ed Teach). He’s always, ALWAYS going to pick Ed over Lucius or Izzy or his crew or even his own feelings, if the option is there. He will literally throw himself overboard to get to Ed’s side. No pause. No consideration of anyone else or even his own safety.
Stede sometimes seems to have to consciously remind himself things like, oh yeah, the crew, I need to see to them. Not because he’s heartless or doesn’t care, but because it takes a bit of conscious effort for him to see beyond the laser-focused spotlight of what and who he does care most about, he has to remind himself of social niceties and other people’s feelings (just see him running away in the first place!) when he gets an idea in his head. It’s as if he had to train himself to consciously care about some things other people care about and as a neurodivergent person myself, that felt very familiar in a comedically writ large sort of way. I’d even argue that’s where all his aristocratic social niceties come from. They were his guidebook for how to do things “right” in a world that otherwise made no sense to him outside his hyperfixations. He practiced being a person through the aristocratic training because it was all so foreign to him from the start, including caring, actually caring, about the needs of others. Not because he’s consciously evil or consciously a jerk. The instinct just isn’t there unless he practices at it until it becomes reflex to ask how others are doing, because on his own his brain just doesn’t really notice or care.
I just… hope the fandom notes and has as much FUN as I do noticing all the little moments where even people inside the story of OFMD expect Stede to act in a normal way and instead he remains unhinged, laser-focused on Ed.
Stede’s not just an Ed apologist, he truly doesn’t blame Ed for any of it. He blames only himself. He doesn’t always voice this but he really really only cares about anyone else including the crew as a DISTANT second and he has to consciously REMIND himself to do so. He is able to rally to take action, to care about their physical needs like safety during the rescue, but he still struggles, deeply struggles, to remember to show empathy in a non-performative way for anyone except his special person, Ed.
Stede’s not a creampuff, not a nice guy, not some emotionally or morally perfect angel. He has to consciously practice caring about literally anything else but what he wants to do and his special person. And to me that’s a thousand times more interesting than shoving him in a box labeled “the blond, pacifist do-gooder good guy” in their relationship.
#this rant requires gifs I don’t have but trust me those odd little beats are there#bless Rhys Darby for making Stede so very neurodivergent coded because it SHOWS#ofmd#ofmd spoilers#our flag means death#ofmd s2 spoilers#ofmd meta#sometimes fandom flanderization makes characters so DULL compared to canon
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if requests(?) are open what do you think about bff!rafe whos absolutely down bad for reader ☺️
bff!rafe is honestly the most obsessive man ever and has no sense of boundaries ngl
truth be told, you and rafe haven’t even known each other that long, barely a year, to be exact. when you had moved into the pretty little baby blue house that overlooked the busy docks and calm waters, rafe had just made his long overdue return to figure 8. you were fresh out of college, and as free as a baby bird — with a somewhat matured rafe who was patiently waiting on the perfect moment to swoop in and teach you to to fly — his way.
you see, rafe was the man of his family now, and as the leading man of the cameron lineage, he had no choice, but to become painfully aware of the damage he could cause. you shared the likeness of a baby deer — naive, dainty, and a little too welcoming … much to your own detriment, at times.
so, rafe took it upon himself to take you under his wing, making sure that he always had you in his line of vision. i mean, if he didn’t look out for you, who knows what kind of trouble you’d get into? which is exactly why he settled for being your best friend in the whole world, as you like to say — that is, until you’d finally snap out of the pink tinted dreamland you seemed to live in, and realize that you were better off just being his — being rafe’s girl.
“y’wanna try some?” you hummed, your manicured hand holding out the wand of your new tube of dior gloss as you mushed your swollen lips together, puckering your now shimmery lips in the mirror as you adored your new lipgloss.
met with silence, you rolled your eyes as rafe remained stood tall and authoritative behind you, his eyebrows furrowed as he fiddled with the collar of his polo shirt, “c’mon, kid — don’t have time to play games,” he shrugged his shoulders, before nudging the side of your jaw with the side of his ringed finger.
to anyone who wasn’t aware of your unique dynamic with rafe — the sight of a young girl dressed in nothing, but a mesh bralette that displayed her hard nipples and tiny silk shorts that sucked up into her ass, a bit bent over a vanity with a much taller man’s tented crotch ghosting right behind the curve of her ass, would be pretty incriminating.
but, in your eyes, it was just you and rafey, your very best friend in the entire world.
leaning back onto the balls of your sore feet, you completely missed the way rafe took in the ripple of your asscheeks as you let out an entitled huff, “i don’t want to go golfing,” you mumble, your arms crossed firmly across your swelled tits as you send rafe a bratty frown in the mirror.
mocking your bratty behavior with an exaggerated pout, rafe lets out a feigned whimper, “aw, baby doesn’t wanna hang out with rafey anymore?”
shoving the gloss-coated wand into the tube, you toss it onto the vanity, your bouncy blown-out hair whipping against rafe’s chest as you push your weak palm into rafe’s hard torso, earning another condescending laugh from the blue-eyed man, “i don’t want to hang out with you, anymore,” you announce, eyes glazed with frustrated tears.
“y’sure? got lots of pretty girls who would love for me to be their best friend,” rafe cocks his head to the side, a knowing smirk tugging on his pink lips as he watches you carefully think about your next words.
with a hesitant nod, you sniffle, “i’m sure.”
“okay — i’ll miss you, princess,”
your doe eyes widened with genuine concern as rafe pressed a kiss to the top of your hair, before taking a few steps backwards from you, turning to reach for the handle of your bedroom door. he can’t leave — you were only kidding!
“stop! i was just kidding,” you panic, perky tits bouncing as you rush over to rafe who is biting back a cocky grin.
forcing a solemn expression, rafe gently raised a ringed hand to hold your jaw, “can’t joke like that, huh? almost made me get a new best friend, pretty girl,” rafe twists the knife, his stomach growing warm and fluttery as he watches you lightly bounce on your feet, before accepting your outstretched arms as he carries you back to your pillow and squishmallow-covered bed.
“sleep over?” you questioned sweetly.
“of course, kid.”
。⋆୨୧˚
wet lip smacks and muffled moans filled the four walls of your bedroom as you laid semi-underneath a now shirtless rafe. one leg hooked over his hip as your hands cupped each side of his strained neck. your puffy lips were nearly raw and tingly from rafe’s constant suckling and nipping at your mouth. rafe’s hand kept a light grip on your throat as he kept you engrossed in the slippery kiss, tongues dancing together wildly as rafe fucked your mouth with his.
pushing out a sleepy whine, you said your delicate hand to rafe’s collarbone, gently pushing, “rafey — m’lips hurt,” your words were jumbled as rafe groaned into your mouth, his lips continuing their relentless assault.
your sloppy little makeout sessions with rafe were a common find when it came to spending a day with him, and you didn’t see anything wrong with it — i mean, he was your best friend forever, he would never steer you in the wrong direction.
shutting you up with a slip of his tongue inside of your mouth, rafe’s hand sliding to cup your cheek as you are quick to wraps your swollen lips around his slippery tongue, gently suckling the pink muscle. you continued sucking on his tongue for a few more minutes, your mixed spit shining on the corners of your mouths and messily smeared on your chins from wet lips.
sliding a calloused, ring-clad hand to cup your soft ass underneath the silk of your shorts, rafe patted two light slaps to your skin, earning a needy moan from you as your wrapped your slick lips around his tongue once more, in a sealing kiss, “sorry — y’taste good,” you mumbled, your sore lips pulled into a sorry little pout as rafe nods knowingly, gently pulling your head to lean against his chest.
rafe never missed the way you gazed up at him, your doll eyes sparkling with adoration and respect — you never judged him, and he appreciated that.
“s’okay, kid.” he responded, mushing your cherub cheeks as your lips remain in a silly smile.
you really had the bestest friend in the whole world!
#asks#anon#obx#rafe cameron#rafe cameron imagine#rafe cameron prompt#rafe cameron x reader#obx imagine#rafe cameron smut#bff!rafe#rafe x reader
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ALL MINE.
ft. leon x f!reader
synopsis. you realize you're in love with your roommate. it sucks that he's ignoring you all of a sudden.
content. 4.7k words. smut. slight jealousy/possessiveness, subby leon, dry humping, handjob, finger sucking, praise & degradation kink, unprotected p in v (riding), overstimulation, creampie, slight subspace.
note. i had mental anguish while writing this so i apologize if it's not my best. i'm also sorry for being so inactive :((
masterlist. i love feedback & reblogs <3
Leon S. Kennedy was probably the best roommate you could’ve asked for.
He had fit the criteria you hand conjured for the perfect housemate the first time you met. Leon was calm, and the apartment was pretty clean. From what you can tell, he cared enough about himself and his surroundings.
Hell, the place looked almost uninhabited save for some trinkets and a few bits of his personality sprinkled about.
Only if you had known what you were getting yourself into when you had agreed to become his roommate.
–-
The first month of residing with Leon was great. You rarely crossed paths and never really communicated with each other due to how stressful looking for a new job was, and then proceeding to attend said job was tiring enough for you to make little social interactions.
He was relatively closed off as well. Not talking to you unless necessary or common courtesy such as a simple ‘Good morning.’
After you settled in, you noticed how much of a strange man Leon was. For one, when he did go to work, he left for weeks at a time, and in his return, he was even more closed off somehow. Leon doesn’t spare you a glance or a greeting, only grunting if you ask if he is alright.
He’s also covered in bruises and bandages, leaving you more concerned.
It made you question who really was your roommate.
In the first meeting you and Leon had, you inquired about his job, mostly to try and figure out how your schedule would work, but also with genuine interest. At the time, he merely shrugged, not answering your question point blank, telling you not to worry about it.
He mentioned his past job as a police officer. You’d dare to ask him more about it, but you didn’t want to pry, leaving the questions for another day.
Lately, you’ve been wishing more than ever that he had answered the question instead of dodging it. In rare moments that you focus on anything else but your job, it often leads you to think about Leon and what he does while he’s away.
It annoys you too that he doesn’t tell you when he’s leaving. He doesn’t owe it to you, but some nights you think he’s getting a drink, only to return a few days later bloodied and bruised.
One night, your overthinking got the worst of you after Leon returned to your apartment in the worst condition you’ve seen in the past few months you’ve been living with him.
Up late, you were in the shared living room, wondering when he’d get home. It had been two weeks since you had last seen Leon. It was way longer than his usual business days. You had been worrying nonstop, not getting a wink of sleep. Was he dead? You’d be the first suspect on the list.
You had called him multiple times, all going to voicemail. That is until you heard the faint creaking of the front door. There he walked in, faced all fucked up. His lip busted, sporting ugly yellow and purple bruises all over the exposed flesh of his body, and a bandage wrapped around his left hand blotted with dry blood.
He was awkwardly shuffling into the room, trying not to wake, you presume. A bit late for that.
“Where the hell were you, Leon?” your voice breaks the early morning silence.
You see him jump slightly in surprise, almost dropping his bag. A different emotion washes through him. A mix of fright and guilt, it’s different from what you’re used to seeing him with.
Leon quickly composes himself, going back to his stoic expression. Taking his shoes caked in mud off at the front door, resting his bag down, he walks over to the kitchen opening the fridge. The light streams out, illuminating the kitchen as you follow him, awaiting an answer.
“Didn’t I tell you not to worry about it?” His back is turned to you, rummaging through the contents of the fridge.
“You’ve been gone for two weeks,” you stress with exhaustion, eyeing his injuries. “What the fuck happened to you.”
He flexes his broad shoulder before turning around to face you. His gaze pins you down before he’s back to ignoring you as he chugs the cold bottled water in his grasp. The fridge is still open, and it adds more nuisance within you.
“It’s not that bad,” he shrugs. He finally shuts the fridge close, only the moon’s light filtering into the room. “Why do you care, anyways?”
“‘Cause when you go missing, I’ll be the one locked up, Leon,” you say. He’s staring at you, trying to suppress a smirk.
“You sure it’s not ‘cause you like me? I’m here to stay.” Is this fucker teasing you? He’s nothing like you first met him. Maybe it’s the blood loss. But to be fair, this is the first proper conversation you’ve had with him in months — you didn’t know how he actually was.
Rolling your eyes, you ignore him, shifting your focus to his bandaged hand, blood seeping through the fabric.
“Let me take a look at that, please,” you urge, taking his hand into yours. You overlook the questions blooming in your mind to tend to his injury.
“Okay.”
You turn the lights on, searching for a first aid kit. Once you retrieve it, you’re back in front of Leon, who’s sat patiently at the dining table.
You roll the sleeves of your sweatshirt up before carefully peeling the fabric sticking to his bloody skin. The large gash on the back of his hand makes you uneasy. It’s deep, almost to the bone, and blood spills onto his pale skin.
“Your stitches reopened,” you tell him, cleaning the wound with a damp cloth. What did he do to warrant such an injury? “If it worsens, you need to go to the hospital.”
“Mhm, you work with patients?” You shake your head, wrapping the wound with fresh gauze.
“What’s your job, then?”
You scoffed, “Some office job. What’s got you busy, huh?”
“Some government bullshit.”
–-
That night the relationship you had with your roommate shifted. For the better, you supposed.
You also bonded better with him the following morning while driving him to the hospital. He was so dramatic, yet he continued to undermine his clearly serious injury, refusing to go. The bleeding had not stopped, and you were worried it could get infected.
He was such a baby. You had bargained with him for his own health, promising to do his chores for a whole month so his hand doesn’t get amputated.
You never really did figure out what his job was, but you guessed it was most likely confidential. It was a vague answer to your question. He could be lying, but once you’re not behind bars, you can’t complain.
You and Leon spent more time with each other.
Even though you had no idea what his job was, he did tell you why he couldn’t disclose such information, something along the lines of putting your safety in jeopardy. Wasn’t him as your roommate just as dangerous? But you didn’t bother. He had his reasons.
Leon, on the other hand, probably learned too much about you and your job.
You weren’t familiar with the city or the people, so it was nice to talk to someone, and you may have gone overboard. You were here for a better quality of life, and it was significantly better than where you previously lived.
You loathed your job. Your co-workers were so condescending and passive-aggressive. Not to mention, you couldn’t quit. It paid enough for you to shut your mouth. Well, not to Leon.
You’re sure he’s sick of you talking and complaining. And when you’re not complaining, you both still get along about other stuff. You mostly banter, though, because Leon is such a child.
The guy can barely care for himself, contradicting what you initially thought about him. You care for him most nights after his so-called ‘missions.’ You rebandage his wounds, scolding him for not caring about himself while he’s looped up on pain meds.
Any other night — when he’s actively not trying to get killed, and you’re not incredibly busy — you both get drunk to attempt to forget about responsibilities. Often you were spouting drunken, nonsensical rambles as Leon somehow listened to.
Ironically enough, Leon cared about your well-being more than you do. Maybe you’re delusional, but you swear he does more than a normal roommate should. It’s because you’re constantly checking up on him, you reasoned. He’s just a respectable person.
But what kind of roommate consistently asks about how you’re going? What roommate get you your favourite takeout when you’re not feeling your best? What roommate threatens to beat the shit out of your annoying co-workers?
But you’ve acknowledged that Leon wasn’t your average housemate. Not just his job, but who the fuck looks that good when they’re bleeding out?
–-
Your job has a celebration upcoming, the company’s 50th anniversary. You barely made it a year working for the place, but you want to make a good impression. You also don’t want to bore yourself to death, so why not coerce your lovely roommate to join you as your plus one?
“I’m not gonna go. Don’t you hate that place?” You stare up at him, sulking.
“Good impressions,” you say before pleading, “C’mon, Leon, please. We can go to the bar after.”
He gives you an unimpressed look before turning away from you.
“I’ll pay for you.” You’re going to go broke because of this man. It catches his attention.
“So desperate,” he chuckles.
“You’re going?”
“I’m gonna run you dry.”
–-
You definitely weren’t prepared to see Leon in a suit when you exited your room. He’s sat on the couch, his hand nervously running through his hair — notably slicked down with gel.
“You that serious about making me go bankrupt?” You voice jokingly, breaking Leon out of his thoughts.
His eyes trail along your body, admiring the dress you wore — how it hugs the curves of your body — noticeably gulping as he stands up. The black suit fits his body, accentuating his broad physique and nice ass.
“I keep my promises. I hope you do too.” He says, before mumbling, “You look nice as well.”
You smile at him, ignoring the unusual feeling blooming in your stomach.
The event was indeed incredibly bland. You’re glad you bribed Leon into joining you. He’s been your saving grace. His sly quips and awful jokes have made the experience increasingly more bearable.
Your enjoyment seemed to fizzle when your co-workers wanted to converse with you. They never did before. Why would they now?
Then you realize too late that they’re not here for you. They’re there for the attractive male next to you. You watch in amusement as the girl blatantly ignores you in favour of Leon.
She’s sweet, you’d imagine, but Leon looks awkward, and there’s an uneasy feeling bubbling in your gut as she squeezes his arm in a flirting manner. The feeling is unlike what you’ve felt earlier.
You could go for a drink right now.
The poor girl’s attempt at seducing Leon goes on longer than you’d like. He’s uncomfortable, and you admire her persistence, but it’s getting on your nerves.
Didn’t she get the memo? He’s your plus one.
You decide to interrupt their conversation, you’re not particularly proud of it, but you want to get drunk. Maybe you’re doing Leon a favour as well.
You pull him away, not offering an explanation, just the promise of getting wasted.
When you’re at the bar, you both get settled, conversing and taking shots, all on you, of course.
Leon mentions that he understands why you hate your job and colleagues, and you laugh lightly at his claims. While you two talk, a few guys approach you, trying to get your number or asking to buy you a drink, ignoring Leon.
It wasn’t a usual occurrence, but it happened more often than not. And even though you find it flattering, it did begin to irritate you.
You politely declined their requests with an uncomfortable smile on your lips. It felt wrong to indulge in their proposals in front of Leon.
Leon’s eyes gleam with an unknown emotion as another guy approaches you. His grasp on the glass tightens, and it looks like it's about to shatter.
You once again deny the request. As you get more tipsy, your filter worsens as you half-heartedly refuse the poor guy. He walks away, visibly irritated.
“That’s the fifth guy to ask for your number,” Leon states, taking a swig of his whiskey. His grip on the glass loosens, but his shoulders are still tense.
You roll your eyes at his over-exaggeration. His suit’s jacket is off, revealing the white button-up shirt underneath.
“I wasn’t interested. A few girls asked you out, too,” you declared bitterly. You’re not drunk per se, just very tipsy.
“They’re not my type.”
“What’s your type?” Taking a sip from your drink, you observe Leon shake his head before downing his glass.
“Having fun?” you inquire, and Leon’s grateful you changed the topic.
“Liquor’s better when it’s free.”
–-
It’s the next day, and you haven’t seen Leon since.
When you woke up, you had a pounding headache. You walked into the kitchen expecting to be greeted by an equally shit-faced Leon, but he was nowhere to be found. It was unlike him.
Usually, he’s already making fun of you for being a lightweight, and you attempt to make breakfast together. He’s probably still in bed. He did drink more than expected. It was a miracle you both got home in one piece.
You took some painkillers before heading back to bed. If you’re up to it, maybe you’ll make breakfast later.
A few hours have passed, and still no sign of Leon. You wonder if he went to work, but that didn’t make sense. Why would he go to work with a hangover? Leon was a bit careless, though.
He was most likely ignoring you. That would be the last thing you wanted. He was the only person you cared to talk as pathetic as it sounds. Did you say something last night that upset him? He was his usual self, but you probably were too drunk to notice something off.
He probably has work-related things to worry about. Not everything was about you. Though, you were still concerned.
You had camped in the kitchen for a while, waiting for Leon so you could confront him. You wanted to make sure he was alright.
When he did enter the kitchen, you tried to start a conversation, only for him to dismiss you entirely. He refused to respond to your troubles, getting what he needed and returning to his room.
You thought it was a one-off thing, but sadly it wasn’t. Leon ignored you the following days, leaving you perplexed. You wished Leon would talk to you about what’s going on. Isn’t that what friends do? Communicate? Every attempt you tried to make was fruitless.
All he’s been doing was ignoring you, and it broke your heart.
His sudden indifference reminded you of when you first moved in. This abrupt disinterest in you left you staring at the ceiling in your bedroom, reflecting on your relationship with Leon.
You despise how he’s been acting lately.
You despise his reckless behaviour. You despise his hair that falls so perfectly. You despise how considerate he is. You despise how sweet he is to you. You despise how attractive he looks when he walks about the place shirtless, in short shorts that barely contain the flesh of his thighs and lay low on his hips when he’s sweaty after working out.
You despised how other girls looked at Leon. You despised how other guys looked at you, wishing it were him.
But you don’t hate him, far from it.
You loved his company. From the first night to the night at the bar. You wouldn’t want him to share that with anyone else. He was familiar, so it hurts that he’s been ignoring you.
He’s treating the moments you’ve had with him seemingly worthless, the time you’ve shared — the late nights when you cared for him. The insecurities you have confided with him. Did it mean anything to him?
He most likely wouldn’t reciprocate your feelings, and you doubt he could. His job explains itself, but you’re still worried as a friend — as his roommate.
Your overthinking has got the best of you, and fuck it. You’re going to confront Leon, whether he likes it or not.
–-
You’ve been building the courage to knock on his door for 20 minutes, pacing back and forth in front of his room door. You didn’t want to make him hate you more, but his bitchy attitude made you wonder why you even liked him in the first place.
Knocking on his door, you instantly regretted it, not wanting to make a fool of yourself, but you had to face him sooner or later. The door surprisingly opens, presenting you with a tired Leon dressed in nothing but his boxers. You probably just woke him up.
When you meet his soft gaze, his brows furrow, and he scowls. It’s been a while since he’s looked at you, so you can take what you can get.
“What do you want?” Leon dully asks, crossing his arms over his bare chest as he leans on the door’s framing. Okay, so he’s talking to you after a week of silence, granted, not like he used to, but it’s something.
“Why have you been avoiding me?” you counter bluntly, glaring at him. His facade crumbles, shoulders dropping as he frowns. He quickly recovers, scoffing and looking anywhere but at you.
“What are you talking about–”
“I’m not a dumbass, Leon. Just why? Are you okay?” you quickly cut off his poor excuse of a response. He shakes his head, his messy hair concealing his eyes as he tries to reply.
The look you’re sending him gives him goosebumps as if you’re reading him with just a glance. You are, and it’s terrifying yet so arousing that you can do so easily. Your eyes don’t leave him, trying to figure out his problems. It’s equally arousing how much you care for him, looking through him like he’s glass.
His composure crashes, stuttering an answer you’re unable to pick up. You stare at him, confused at his sudden nervous behaviour.
Leon’s selfish for wanting you all to himself. He doesn’t want to hurt himself with the rejection that you may throw his way. He doesn’t want to feel like that even though your actions say otherwise. He wants to tell you that, but what he says is much more pathetic.
“God, it’s you,” he repeats. The look of disappointment that crosses your face hurts. It hurt that he’s the one that made you look so broken so quickly.
“What?” Your voice falters, but you’re curious despite the ache in your chest. You’re not surprised. Maybe, a bit shattered.
“Not like that. I mean, fuck, I don’t know how to say this.” He awkwardly scratches the back of his neck as he tries to formulate his words, a blush dispersing on his pale cheeks.
“I was fucking mad, okay? Not at you– never at you. I hated how those guys looked at you. I know I shouldn’t feel like this. You’re my roommate, for fucks sake, but–” He continues to ramble on, and the words he spews give you whiplash.
You’re simultaneously flattered by his words and pissed. He was acting like a prick because he was jealous. As much as you were annoyed by his immature behaviour, you couldn’t ignore the butterflies swarming your stomach.
You impulsively crash your lips into his. He stops his rambling, startled, before melting into the kiss, his long lashes fluttering close. His plush lips move softly against yours. The kiss is soft and much better than either of you could’ve imagined.
Pulling away from him, you catch your breath, huffing, “You dumb boy.”
His cheeks darken in colour, the blush leading to the expanse of his chest. He grips your hips, tugging you closer to his body. You feel his dick hardening in confined in his boxers, pressed to your lower stomach.
“Fuck,” Leon gasps softly. You tuck strands of hair behind his ear, your nose bumping together as you admire his pretty face.
“All that from a little kissing?” you breathed against his bruised lips, your fingers toying with the waistline of his boxers. “You want me to help you, baby boy?”
“Yes, please.”
You frown, moving away from his hold. His face falls, his brows furrow in confusion as he pouts. “C’mon, Leon. You really think you’re going to get to cum that easily after ignoring me?”
“‘M sorry. I didn’t mean to. Please touch me. I– I’ll be your good boy,” he pleads, moving back closer to you, wrapping his arms around your midsection.
“Okay, sweetheart. You’ll get to cum if you behave.”
He captures your lips in a quick kiss, moaning softly before pulling away. He takes your hand, leading you into his bedroom, and you observe the new surroundings. Even though you’ve been roommates for nearly a year, you never saw the inside of his room. Posters of bands you weren’t familiar with were on the walls of his room.
“On the bed, baby,” you coo, and Leon shuffles on the navy blue sheets of his bed, leaning against the headboard. You crawl onto the soft sheets, straddling him as you seat yourself on his plush thighs. His warm palms shoot to rest on your waist, softly squeezing them.
He tugs you closer to him, pressing your chest flat against his. Leon gasps softly, his nipples rubbing against the coarse fabric of your tank top.
“S’much better than I imagined,” he sighs, guiding your hips so your clothed cunt drags along his prominent bulge. He groans, feeling your cunt dripping, soaking through your panties and shorts.
You move back from him, halting your movements on his hardening cock as you’re sat on his thighs once more. Your hands grip his arms, and even though he’s stronger than you, he ceases his motion. It’s so fucking hot how this huge man submits to you.
“You’ve thought about me in your lap?” you tease, palming his erection through his boxers. The head leaks precum, staining the delicate fabric. “Playing with your pretty cock?”
“Mhm,” he whines softly, bucking his hips to your warm touch. His head tilts back, knocking the wooden headboard quietly as he writhes at your touch.
“Ohh, you poor thing. Cummin’ in your hand wishing it was mine,” you mock, pulling Leon’s boxers down to reveal his throbbing dick flushed pink. It aches for your touch, twitching and smearing his precum on the dark curls on his happy trail.
“Fuck, yes.” Leon whimpers when you wrap your digits around his cock, squeezing it, oozing more precum, coating your fingers as you stroke him slowly. His hips eagerly thrust to meet your movement.
“So, so pretty.” The blush on his cheeks somehow deepens at your words. His head is spinning, and not just from your touch. He roughly grips his silken sheets, bunching them up. You thought he was pretty?
“God, baby, you’re the prettiest.”
Fuck, had he said that out loud?
His back arches as he nears his orgasm, pleasure rushing through his body. His thighs tremble as he spills his cum, coating your hand. You don’t stop tugging on his weeping cock, living for the little cries he makes from being overstimulated.
“Don’t, m’ sensitive– shit,” Leon whines, and you finally take your hand off his spent dick, admiring his cum dribbling onto your fingers. Leon props himself up, chest heaving as he tries to collect himself.
“Did I say you could cum?” you tease. Leon’s eyes widen for a second before pleading for forgiveness.
“I- I didn’t mean to. God, I’m so sorry. I’ll be your good boy.” He sniffles softly, and you take pity on his cries. You’ll punish him another time.
“It’s okay, honey. Can you open wide f’me?” you say. Leon does as he’s told, parting his lips and sticking his tongue out. You wished you could take a picture.
You place your index and middle finger on his tongue, pressing down. Leon wraps his lips around your fingers, sucking his cum off them. Moaning softly, he peers up at you through his lashes and gags when you push your fingers further down.
“You’re such a slut, Leon,” you say, pulling your fingers out his mouth, lips slicked with his spit. You flicked his nipples, causing him to moan loudly. His cock is beginning to harden once more.
“I’m your slut.”
“Think you can go one more round, baby?” you asked, hovering over his rock-hard cock, before sinking down. Your drenched pussy through your thin shorts stimulates his overly sensitive dick, and he groans softly, squeezing your waist.
“Wanna take care of you too, angel,” he murmurs into your ear as you grind yourself onto his erection. “Can I eat you, please?”
“Maybe next time, honey.”
“Fuck, okay. Can you kiss me?” You press your lips to his softly, and he whimpers sweetly into your mouth. Pulling away from him, you take your shorts and panties off, and they’re fucking drenched. Leon tugs your tank top off, and you giggle at his eagerness.
Your body, so soft and warm, is pressed against Leon’s. It’s almost enough to make him cum, and he’s not enough inside you yet. You slide your dripping cunt along his shaft, ensuring he’s fully hard. Leon fucking whines each time the tip of his cock nicks your entrance, begging to plunge in.
Every time the tip nudges your clit, your cunt clenches, and each flutter sends his eyes rolling to the back of his head.
“Please, angel. Fuck me. Use me– I don’t care. ‘M all yours.” You guide his cock to your entrance before finally sinking down slowly. The tip enters you with a soft moan. He’s so fucking thick. Once fully sheathed in you, you grip his shoulders for support.
“You’re all mine to use, right? F- Fuck, you’re stretching me so good, Leon.”
Your tight walls hug him so tightly, and when you bounce on his cock, each drag of his sensitive dick adds to the building pressure in his tummy. He filled you so good, reaching spots you didn’t think were possible as you used him like your toy.
Leon thrusts his hips to meet your pace, your ass slapping his thighs, making obscene sounds. He can’t get enough of you. From your tits bouncing as you rode his cock, or the expression you hold when he hits that special spot.
It’s so much better than he has imagined.
He rubs your clit with his thumb, a broken whimper leaving him when your gummy walls clench around him tightly. The pressure in his tummy was rising, and you were no better as he played with your clit.
“‘M so close, sweetheart. Can I cum in you, please?” he pleads, his hips stuttering to meet each of your moves. His pink lips parted, eyes barely stayed open, and he looked utterly ruined.
“Yes, baby.” You trail kisses along his neck, sucking marks along the column of his throat. You’re pleased with yourself that you’re the reason he has those marks now. Each bruise you suck on his flesh adds another butterfly to his tummy. He’s all yours now.
“Cum with me, please.”
After a few more thrusts, the pressure within him bursts he cums inside you, filling you with his warm seeds. You climax along with him. Your cunt spasms around his sensitive cock, gushing its arousal, clinging to his happy trail.
You collapse on top of him, your head falling on his shoulder. Leon kisses the top of your head, nuzzling into your hair. You try to get off to clean yourself and Leon up, but arms encircle your waist, preventing you from doing so.
“Stay with me, sweetheart. Don’t want you leaving.”
You comply, laying with him, your skin, sticky with sweat and cum, clings to his as you both enjoy each other’s embrace.
#leon kennedy#leon kennedy x reader#re4 remake#resident evil 4#leon kennedy x you#leon s. kennedy#leon kennedy smut#resident evil 4 remake#resident evil#leon kennedy resident evil#resident evil smut#reader insert#smut#re4 smut#re4#i need to peg him#✩‧₊˚ fics
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Nanami Kento Relationship Headcanons
(Nanami through the phases)
Warnings: none. This post is SFW, and is mostly full of fluff.
Acquaintance (I'm just another face in the crowd)
• This isn't a love-at-first-sight type of situation. Romance is so far from his mind in general, and as far as he's concerned, it's off the table, no matter who it is.
• If you're another sorcerer, you're just another colleague - his only concern is whether or not you're competent. If you're a non-sorcerer, you're just another stranger in the world trying to make your way however you can. Nothing more.
• He treats you no different than any other person, with painful indifference and total professionalism. Short responses - no longer than is required to get a point across.
• Any time you'd try to have some form of friendly chat or banter with him, you're met with little more than a 'hm' or an ' I see' before he would return to what he was doing.
• His responses would only be a little longer if it pertained to work or if it were absolutely necessary.
Friend (If you slip and fall off-track - I'll carry you on my back)
• It took a long while to get to even this point with him, but he's less guarded around you - only a little. It's not that he doesn't trust you; it's just how he is with people. The difference is that when he asks about your day, he genuinely wants to know - it's no longer an obligatory means of the bare-minimum 'polite conversation between strangers/colleagues' type of situation.
• You're one of the few people he'll ask out for drinks after work. He's a good drinking partner, and he always tends to buy the first round. This is around the time you realize just how well he can hold his liquor. The man can drink like a fish, and it takes him an insane amount before he seems to show any subtle signs of inebriation. That being said, he's a pretty quiet drunk; he'll sway a bit more when he stands, and his ears/cheeks will turn a little redder, but he tends to stop before he even gets to that point.
• He has genuine respect for you (even if you're also a Jujutsu Sorcerer).
• You get to see him crack a small smile on occasion. Even though he's not typically one for jokes, you're one of the few people who make him chuckle.
• He knows how you take your coffee and/or tea (or what you prefer if you don't drink coffee or tea). If you're a colleague, he'll sometimes bring you something from the coffee shop if he'd happened to stop by to pick up a coffee for himself.
• (If you're a sorcerer) He trusts you to be able to handle yourself, and doesn't feel the need to babysit you on missions. He knows your style pretty well, and is able to adapt his own to better compliment yours if needed. Still, he's always looking out for you in his typical 'Nanami' way.
• (If you're not a sorcerer) He keeps an eye out for you when he happens to be around; making sure you're not stuck dealing with some unknown minor curse. If you do happen to catch the attention of a curse, he'll go out of his way to deal with it for you - though you'd never know it; he doesn't want to bring you into his messy world by telling you things you don't need to know.
• All in all, Nanami is a fiercely loyal friend. He has your back through anything and everything, even if that means giving you a scolding for doing something foolish.
Crush (I've got my eye on you)
• Once you catch his eye, he almost seems to become a little less talkative around you than he was before. At first, you're worried that you did something wrong.
• If anything, he's kind of in shock. These feelings just came out of nowhere for him, and he's not really sure how to handle it.
• He specifically did NOT want to be romantically involved with anyone while he's in this field of work. In fact, he's fully intending to keep his feelings to himself and just hoping that they go away over time, even if you're also in the same business of fighting curses.
• Any signs of affection are extremely subtle - almost imperceptible - but they are there.
• When he brings you your coffee/tea/etc. he now always pairs it with some sort of sticky note message. Nothing cutesy - just a simple 'have a good day' or 'stay safe.'
• When you're around each other, he seems to stand a little closer than usual - especially if it's crowded, he takes the opportunity to stick almost shoulder-to-shoulder with you (but he always says a quick 'apologies' when he does).
• You have your own ringtone and vibration pattern, now - though he hasn't brought it to anyone's attention; not even yours. Your ringtone changes from his usual default to something different so he can hear if it's specifically you contacting him. Your vibration tone is a subtle 'bzt-bzt' that he noticed sounded like a heartbeat. Whenever he hears that tone or that vibration, he tends to stop what he's doing to check his inbox.
• You've never noticed, but if someone seems to be eyeing you, be it a creep or just some would-be troublemaker, he's able to subtly put on that scary-dog aire which never fails to deter them from coming anywhere near you. In fact, one time, he happened to notice some creep was following you home after work while he was driving by, so he pulled over to the curb beside you and got out of his car to greet you. 'It's not safe to be out alone in this area this late. Let me drive you home.'
Before you can say anything, he's gently leading you to the passenger's side door, opening it for you to let you in before carefully closing it behind you. As he's moving around the car to get into the driver's seat, he's sure to flash a death glare to the stalker (and no one - and I mean NO ONE - can death glare like Nanami).
Once he's arrived at your place, he suggests carpooling with him after work. Even if you decline, he requests that you text him when you get home. Either way, this starts a trend of you two either carpooling home or texting each other most nights.
• You have noticed that his usual habit of buying the first round of drinks has turned into him picking up the entire tab basically every time.
• You are the only person that has ever seen this stoic man flustered. The first time you saw him remove his glasses, you complimented the amber colour of his eyes. He cleared his throat and scratched the bridge if his nose, flushing with a 'thank you.' You heard from Gojo later that day that Nanami seemed to be in a better mood than usual for the rest of the day.
• He actually compliments you, now - and not just for work-related things. He keeps it simple, but one day he notices you'd changed something small - maybe the way you parted your hair, the way you did your makeup, maybe you shaved, or he noticed the perfume/cologne you were wearing, maybe a new accessory you bought - and he makes a point to say something (ie; 'Ah, you changed your hair part. It looks good.')
Dating (What would happen if we kissed? Would your tongue slip past my lips?)
• This was not what Nanami was intending to happen. You either had to make the first move, or once you noticed the hints he was unintentionally dropping, you practically had to pull it out of him. He was convinced, without the shadow of a doubt, that his feelings were completely one-sided.
• If by some chance he were the one to make the first move, however, he had originally decided to confess to you in hopes that his feelings would pass once you'd inevitably turned him down. You could imagine his surprise when you returned his feelings. He decided it would be best to take you out for lunch at a coffee shop you both liked to frequent. After you'd taken your seats, you noticed that he seemed nervous. That's when he tells you.
• Either way, once you both decide to start a relationship, he turns out to be a textbook-perfect boyfriend. He holds doors open, buys you gifts, plans great dates, gives great massages, and he's a shockingly good kisser. He's also unsurprisingly great at communication; he likes to talk things out, and is very solutions-oriented, so the two of you may disagree on occasion, but you rarely 'fight.'
• His only real failing as a boyfriend (at least early on in the relationship) has everything to do with his habit of being a workaholic. It can be hard to make time to spend time together outside of work, and when you do, he's often rather tired, though he tries not to show it.
• You two didn't share an official 'first kiss' until the end of the third date. You'd hugged, held hands, cuddled, and you'd both even come close to kissing a couple times, but neither of you wanted to make the other feel rushed or uncomfortable. He'd kissed your hand, fingers and forehead before, but at the end of your third date, as he was dropping you off at your place, he asked you to wait a moment before getting out of his car. He started to lean forward and gently slipped a hand on your jawline, holding intense eye contact for a moment before asking if it would be alright for him to kiss you. You basically just managed to get a 'yes' out and his lips were on yours in the blink of an eye - as if he'd been unable to think of anything else for his entire life. All too soon, he pulled away an inch, letting out a deep sigh of relief. He drifted his thumb gently over your bottom lip and smiled. 'You have no idea how long I've wanted to do that.'
• He seems to exhibit many forms of the love languages, but his most prominent are acts of service, gift giving, and physical touch.
Long-Term (Come with me, my love, to the sea - the sea of love)
• Nanami always enjoys his dates with you, regardless of what you're doing, but he specifically loves dates where the two of you get to learn something together. Taking classes, be they painting, cooking, dancing, learning a language, etc. he finds them to be the most interesting.
• Nanami asked you to move in with him about a year into your relationship. The first day you came 'home' after work, he'd made a point of being there first so he could set up a 'welcome home' banner and prepare a nice in-home date night for the two of you.
• Coming home to you is easily the highlight of most of his days. His favourite post-work ritual is to slide off his tie, unbuttoned the top few buttons of his shirt, and to fall into you to cuddle on the couch together.
• He loves when you read books out loud while he's curled up with you, feeling your fingers running through his hair. It never fails to put him at ease.
• After having taken many cooking classes together, the two of you can flawlessly work around each other in the kitchen - something many couples seem to struggle with.
• It was about 3 years into your relationship when you realized he has a shockingly nice singing voice that he rarely uses. One evening, the two of you were slow-dancing in the living room when he started humming a song in a low, smooth tone that took you by surprise.
• Nanami's always had pretty good fashion sense, but he enjoys coordinating his outfits with yours, and low-key revels in getting to show you off a little when you're out together.
• He never forgets anniversaries - ever. He remembers that during your first anniversary, you bought him a midnight blue silk tie with a simple wave pattern that he adores, and makes sure to wear every anniversary without fail.
Married (After all this time, I'm still into you)
• The two of you take at least a one week long vacation together every year; but for your 5th anniversary, he pulled out all the stops. We're talking a first-class flight to a private villa by the sea with a balcony and an ocean view that boasted some of the most incredible sunsets imaginable. After spending the week getting absolutely pampered with amazing meals, couples massages, and anything under the sun that the two of you wanted to do, he presented you with an envelope.
You opened it to see that he had purchased the ocean villa so the two of you could come back any time you wanted; but that's not all.
He had signed it under both his name, and under a 'Mrs. Nanami Kento.' You looked at him in shock as he rose to his feet and dropped down on one knee beside you to offer you a ring with your favourite stone.
• The wedding was, in a word, perfect. He had a blast planning it with you, and the entire event went off without a single hitch. It was small, beautiful, elegant, intimate, and perfect for both of you. You like to joke that the two of you had a future in event planning if Jujutsu Sorcery stopped being an option.
• It's not long before he (and you, if you were also a sorcerer) decide to retire from Jujutsu Sorcery to open your own business together - be it event planning, a restaurant, a bakery, etc. which goes on to be incredibly successful.
• This man never stops trying to win your heart. Even decades into your marriage, he's always trying to find new ways to charm you and sweep you off your feet.
#jjk#jujutsu kaisen#nanami kento#nanami#headcanon#relationship#py#pyretta#wychwiggin#psh#purple strudel house#fan fiction#fanfiction#sfw#fluff#Spotify
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SPIT TO SEE THE SHINE
Vendetta Leon S. Kennedy x reader |18+ MDNI. DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT, KIDNAPPING, DUB CON, smut, age gap (reader is in 20s, Leon is 37) female reader, abusive relationship, implied alcoholism, stockholm syndrome, creampie, unprotected sex, vaginal sex, use of ‘daddy’ (not a lot), implied erectile disfunction lmao, victim blaming, fingering, implied physical and sexual violence, forced breeding.
Summary: life gets lonelier after 30s, the realization hits harder Leon and the way to cope with it is to get his hands on alcohol… too bad booze tends to encourage him to not be a good man - ending up with a younger girl in his apartment. Maybe it is a grave mistake, but Leon is just a man and who doesn’t make them? notes: uhm, this may be a lil bit self indulgent, sorry for that :3 I DONT CONDONE THIS BEHAVIOR IN REAL LIFE!!! reblogs, asks and any kind of feedback or interaction are really appreciated! :3
tags: @withonly-sweetheart
Mama has told you not to trust strangers, the concern was referred to the men, but your ears have never held her words for a time longer than a day. Nor did you remember her words when an attractive, older man noticed you and was nice enough to ask you out. That night was supposed to be a little date, giddy and happy jumping into the front seat of his car. That’s the last thing you remember. Eventually, you can not fathom how this happened - the day later your head hurt as you were forced to swallow the hard pill: you got kidnapped by your date.
The first month was insufferable and painful, slowly growing out of your ‘rebellious attitude’ and memorizing his body language like a child in an abusive household. His gaze is everywhere, keeping you locked up in the room when he is not present, a reminder to you that there is no free choice. The food, clothes, and your free time were defined by Leon’s mood and taste which… Liked to swing, creating a mess for you both, not knowing if he was genuinely ashamed of what he had done. You hated him, dreaming about the day when his throat would be sliced, painting your hands with red just to breathe in the air of freedom.
Mama knows best. No, Leon knows best.
Sometimes Leon is mean, without hesitation, sharp words can be thrown at you when he is drunk. Blaming his misery on you. Trying not to be affected by them, not enough to avoid some of them as they cling to your mind - circling as a reminder.
“You deserve this, what did you think a man would want from a woman?”,
“you are better dead”,
“you asked for this”. Did you actually?
Sometimes he is the nicest guy around here. Showering you with tenderness and care, trying to have a normal conversation, but not daring to look into your eyes. Ashamed probably, which was bittersweet and pleasant, but confusing too. Like a couple. You promised yourself to not change the way you feel about him, even if he is sweet. Not like you have a lot of options now.
Certainly, Stockholm syndrome wasn’t going to avoid you, it didn’t take long either. You aren’t special and Leon looked so lonely, returning after work mostly devastated. The expression someone would have had while grieving over something not obtainable. Not even daring to look into your face, ignoring you until his hands do not reach the booze - drinking himself until his mood changes to a handsy one. Physical or sexual. Sometimes both. And Leon is lonely, he told it himself once. Naturally or not, anger has changed to pity, while hate is mixed with something affectionate towards him. You can’t help yourself.
As someone has said - from love to hatred is one step.
So the routine has become clear after a month of staying here, sitting on the floor and watching TV while Leon is behind you. Big brother is watching you - no, Leon is watching you. Drunk or not, monitoring whatever is on the screen is appropriate in his eyes. Not for too long you were concentrating on the blue gleam coming from the screen, illuminating both frames in the living room, now like a natural thing for you both - his fingers end up in your panties to rub your clit in slow and lazy circles. His chest is pressing against your back, focused on your expressions and squirming. His calloused fingertips press harder against your sensitive clit, to hear your voice. Your body is the biggest enemy here - like a Pavlovian dog, reacting to his touch quickly and eagerly. The skin of his fingers is wet and soaked with your slick already, in no time, filling the room with squelching and wet sounds as your moans become harder to keep to yourself. Writhing and trying to shift away, but your body tends to become immobile most of the time - there is no fight or flight, just freeze.
“You look so miserable. It is reassuring, so cute too” In misery, together. His tone is the one someone would use for a dog. Always using that one with you, but you are not a dog. Not like you have any other choices right now, other than taking like a good girl and not lamenting.
If someone would have asked you, Leon is shameless with you, not the one to be shy after a bottle of whiskey, even if he can’t get it up sometimes. His fingers nudge your soaked hole, which aches for his attention. It clenches around nothing, pathetically and you disappointedly whine at the emptiness inside you.
“Come on, open your legs, be a nice girl for Daddy” Leon cooed. His lips brush over your ear, not giving you a chance to do this by yourself - forcing your legs roughly to part wider. “So much better now”
Your hips shift, arching your back as his two fingers intrude into your pussy, curling sweetly inside it to push them at your favorite sweet spot - to enforce more moans at every jolt of pleasure hitting your body. Leon likes that, watching you squirm and open your mouth like a fish desperate for air cause of him. His grip on your jaw is tight, painful even - there are going to be bruises tomorrow and he will be apologizing like a madman.
“Daddy has been so miserable these days too, fucking Redfield is always hassling me.” You don’t know who is that. The sound of his hand fumbling with his belt and the fly of his jeans reach your ears, a loud noise of them falling on the floor. “Can’t even have a vacation, what would you do without me, baby?”
“Ughh…!” you choke on your moans. There is no thought behind your eyes, your entire attention is on your pleasure. Feeling overwhelmed at every thrust of his fingers, writhing in his hold while he is roughly pumping into your drenched hole, an uncomfortable wetness clings to your inner thighs - begging to fuck you already.
“Fuck, I am so sorry, sweetheart, but you are so wet. I can’t. Just the tip, okay? Sorry,” he groans breathlessly, giving hot and quick kisses on the side of your head. Sweet touch. His gaze darkens and his body presses harder against yours, feeling his erection press against your ass. “just… this hole is dripping, and you don’t look like you don’t want it”
You are so close actually, every thrust hitting your sweet spot, curling, and keeping the quick pace of his fingers make you almost drool while focusing on approaching orgasm. Too bad that isn’t on his to-do list. As much as he wants to see you cum, on his fingers or not, - his own pleasure is much more important, especially when his dick is hard. Whiskey dick isn’t so easy to get up these days. His fingers roughly withdraw from your soaked hole with a squelching pop, denying your orgasm. The emptiness returns and your sensitive pussy clenched around nothing again - aching to be filled again.
“So messy,” Leon mutters out, shoving his index and middle fingers in your mouth - forcing you to clean them, your tongue rolls and wraps around them, tasting yourself before he finally pulls them away. “asking for bad things to happen”
You can swear to God this made your clit throb. Wetter than you can ever be, or you are hallucinating, hoping this isn’t the case. Thoughts are quickly brushed aside when his cock is pressed in between your pussy lips, bumping against your aching clit while he rubs himself against your soaked and needy cunt that coats his flesh in your slick, lubing his length in it before he pushed his cock into you - Leon is not really a patient man. Yeah, just the tip, of course. Your velvety walls easily swallow his cock, stretching inch by inch with pleasant pain and letting it slide as he pushed in quick motion until his cock got buried deep inside you. Balls pressed against your flesh, while you can’t help but tightly clench around him, his chest is pressed against your back. Relishing how tight and warm is your pussy, the best and most calming feeling for Leon - to fill you with his cock for his own pleasure. Your hair gets tugged roughly, making your head roll back while Leon starts moving slowly. His cock drags against your walls, pulling out until only a tip remains inside.
“See? Only a tip” Leon mocks you, before slamming back in, bottoming out in one thrust. You whimper and squirm, but his hold on your hair is hard - the only way to keep you under his control. His hips start pounding into you, falling deep into the pleasure connecting your bodies. “Your pussy just feels so good, weren’t you made for this, mmm?”
His movements stutter as his pace slowens when his blue eyes make eye contact with the TV. You didn’t really catch on what was happening until his hand tugged your hair, directing your half-lidded gaze to the point of his interest. The sight of your image on the news, big words on the red background: MISSING PERSON. The former shelf of yourself is staring at you both, smiling brightly - not knowing there is no future for you. The volume is turned off. In this household, it is common knowledge that Leon doesn’t let you watch the news, every time getting agitated and avoiding you even more, when sober, which doesn’t last long after that. The mood swing was quick, every time it was like a loud thunderstorm, his hips make another thrust - cock hits your cervix and forces out a loud moan, involuntarily, when Leon’s cockhead grinds against it.
“This is bullshit, you know?” He hisses into your ear, giving another rough thrust to make you gasp pathetically, as he presses your head against the TV screen. “no one is coming for you. Why? Cause you are forgettable, baby, no one needs you”
“S-stop, Leon” you mumble in between moans and trying to keep yourself aware of what is happening. “T-too much, p-please!”
Your body feels like it is on fire due to the mix of emotions he provokes, your cunt grips his cock tightly while aching for your denied orgasm from before. His hand gives a hard slap on your sensitive clit, making you arch and flinch. Your pussy flutters, gripping him tighter.
“Shhh, I am doing a favor here” he mutters, yanking your head back, forcing you to look at the news while his pounding grew more erratic, intensifying wet and flesh-hitting sounds. His voice is loud in your ears, muffling other sounds, overwhelming as his cock keeps making rough thrusts into you with every word - to punctuate them. “Keeping you here, taking care of useless you that can’t do anything right”
He buries himself deep again, pausing again to relish in the feeling of his cock filling you, while your wet walls engulf him nicely - like a drug, inviting him to stay there and never pull away. Slick drips down your thighs, and his nose brushes behind your ear before nibbling on the soft cartilage. His hand gives another light slap on your pussy, the tightness of your walls almost makes him cum.
“Maybe a baby, what do you think about it, mm?” The idea makes him throb, sliding in and out more erratically. As if he cares about your opinion right now, his fingers tug your hair harder, but his words make you flinch harder. Tears prick behind your eyelids.
“No-no-no. You can’t cum inside, no!” He is not wearing a condom. Bad, too bad. Begging comes out naturally for you now, in between your moans. Fear coats your voice, as the idea sets in quickly - being trapped here cause of an unfortunate kid. “Not the baby! Leon, please! I’ll be good, please!”
“Of course, I can. Shut up. You like this” Leon hisses, keeping your head in a firm hold, so your eyes are set on the old photo. It doesn’t feel right, but you can’t stop yourself from making noises, shifting so Leon would hit a better angle. This somewhat combines with a shame, at every hint of it your mind shoves it away. “You can’t look at yourself, too bad. Dripping even more after my words, like a whore.“
Wanting to cum, focusing more on the pleasure of his dick filling your hole - feels so wrong, but good. Like your body shouldn’t enjoy how Leon’s hips keep pounding into your soaked cunt, hitting the pudgy spot and making you repeat his name like a prayer, but your own mind and body are the biggest enemy, betraying you. His own balls tighten, as a reminder of his so soon approaching orgasm.
“You love me right, baby?” Leon whispers, voice coming out breathy and brushing against your ear shell. His calloused fingers crawl back to your clit, flicking and rubbing it roughly and unsteadily. Trying to keep the feeling of that warm tightness sucking in his cock.
“I love you, Leon, o-oh!” you hum, nibbling on the lower lip and arching, letting more noises when his dick hits your sweet spot so sloppily and messy now, chasing his orgasm. And him circling your clit with his calloused fingertips makes your legs tremble - so close to tripping and falling flat on the floor. This makes your mind fuzzy, shoving away the fear of being pregnant. Leon is nice, right? Nice enough to push you against the cold screen of the TV, it doesn’t have its use anymore. That photo faded with the news, after all. “I love you, love you,”
Your voice comes out shaky and high-pitched now. His eyes are set on your disheveled look, with light traces of tears as you repeat the confession erratically, filling his mind with them. Making this normal, you love him, so he can allow himself to not feel so guilty, right? With a final and rough thrust, he buried himself to the hilt, giving chaste and soft kisses to the back of your head. Your body shudders eventually too, your walls spasm harder around him as the hard feeling of orgasm hits you, pleasant shockwaves dumb every bad thought in the head. His cock throbbed, letting a loud groan and finally spurting ropes of cum into you while keeping messy circles on your sensitive clit, prolonging your orgasm and making you more overwhelmed with every flick. The warm essence fills your hole, Leon pulls out his softening cock with a wet pop, watching how his sperm slowly oozes out from your pussy. His mind is light, the hint of booze keeps guilt from emerging.
Words of love don’t feel like a complete lie now, as pleasant memories overwhelm the bad ones. They become almost an empty spot in the back of your mind, leaving only a foggy feeling of hate and dread. And your brain is weak for the bliss, hammering every moment deep in you - craving for more. Hate won’t bring you out of this, maybe affection will. Your hand grips weakly his wrist, you won’t be able to bear the loneliness after sex tonight.
“Don’t leave me” Your mouth is quicker than your mind, not processing anything right now. Leon breaks out in a weak smile, but his gaze isn’t capable of keeping eye contact right now. Still, he scoops you in his arms without a second thought. Remaining silent, feeling your weak body in his hold he can’t help but pepper chaste kisses on your forehead. Trying to prolong the sweet and guiltless moment for you both.
You should have known better than to accept that date with him.
#leon kennedy smut#leon kennedy x reader#leon kennedy x you#leon s kennedy x reader#leon s kennedy x you#leon s kennedy#leon kennedy#vendetta leon#resident evil smut#leon kennedy fanfic#resident evil#leon x reader#resident evil x reader#resident evil x you#re fanfic#resident evil fanfiction#leon s kennedy smut#leon s kennedy fanfic
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(PARENT)HESIS ON LOVE!
— SYNOPSIS: gojo has always been the one babied; although now that you're pregnant, the roles have been reversed.
— WARNINGS: pregnant reader, fluff, hormones, insecurities about getting bigger, referred as mama once or twice, not proofread, a bit of crying, 1k words
— AUTHOR’S NOTE: guys i'm cooking i swearrrrrrrrrr i'm too sad to write
gojo satoru is completely infatuated with you, especially now that you're carrying his child. every little thing about you seems to sparkle with an extra layer of beauty in his eyes; the way your skin seems to glow with an ethereal radiance, and how you've become increasingly dependent on him lately, fills him with a sense of pride.
and oh, his favouritest thing in the world is the way you waddle around the house, so cutely, letting out tiny grunts of effort to get around. normally, you're the one taking care of him, but lately, he's been the one doting on you, attending to your every need with unwavering devotion. he's so mindful, always making sure to take extra care, especially now that your mood swings are coming in at full force.
"you're so beautiful," he whispers to you, his eyes brimming with admiration as he gazes at you. his hand gently rests against your swollen stomach, his touch tender and soft. feeling a tiny kick from the baby, he can't contain his joy. "our baby's getting so big," he murmurs, his voice filled with wonder and adoration.
however, despite his pure intentions, hormones wreak havoc on your emotions, causing your mood to plummet suddenly. his innocent remark triggers a surge of insecurity and sensitivity within you.
"are you calling me big?" you mumble, your doe eyes welling up with tears as you struggle to hold back your emotions. crossing your arms defensively, you glare up at him, the hurt evident in your expression.
yet, gojo remains remarkably patient, his demeanor unwaveringly gentle as he responds to your emotional outburst. he never raises his voice or shows even a hint of frustration, instead choosing to shower you with affection and understanding. with a soft smile, he leans down to press a tender kiss to your swollen belly, his lips conveying all the love and reassurance he feels for both you and the precious life growing inside you.
"you know that's not what i meant," he reassures, his voice a soothing balm to your frazzled nerves. as your grumpiness begins to surface, he remains by your side, tenderly massaging your sore legs, smiling up at you gently. with a sniffle, you push him away, your lips forming a stubborn pout as tears stream down your cheeks.
"go away," you sob, your voice tinged with a mix of sadness and frustration. "i don't wanna see your face right now." he sighs softly, his thumb gently wiping away your tears as he cups your face with infinite tenderness.
"do you really want me to go?" he asks, his voice filled with genuine concern, his willingness to leave evident in his earnest gaze if it would even bring you an ounce of peace. the thought of him leaving, even temporarily, fills you with a sense of emptiness and longing.
"no," you sniffle, longing to be held in his arms but hindered by the growing bump of your stomach. you sulk over the fact that you can no longer fit perfectly into his embrace like before, and how your increased appetite and mood swings must be testing his patience. insecurity grips you tightly as you think about how tired he must be of your constant ups and downs, from holding your hair back as you suffer from morning sickness to enduring your emotional outbursts. the fear of burdening him weighs heavily on your heart, and before you know it, fresh tears cascade down your cheeks.
"i'm sorry..." you sob, feeling utterly overwhelmed by your emotions, unable to contain the torrent of tears streaming down your cheeks. "i'm fat, and... and ugly now, and i've been so mean to you lately..." your voice breaks as you unload your insecurities onto his sleeve, seeking solace in his comforting presence. frowning with concern, gojo gently brushes your hair behind your ears, his touch tender as he pulls you closer into his lap.
"hey, what are you talking about? you aren't any of those." he murmurs, his voice a soothing balm against the storm of your emotions.
"b-but... i can't even tie my own shoes without help because i'm big..." you snivel, hiccupping between words. he continues to stroke your head with a gentle rhythm, allowing you to cry freely against his chest, your tears dampening the fabric of his expensive shirt.
"you're carrying a literal human being in you; of course you'd get a little bigger," gojo reasons, his words carrying a reassuring weight. despite your doubts and fears, he remains steadfast in his support, his unwavering love evident in the earnest gaze he directs towards you. "but that doesn't mean i love you less. you always are, and will be, my pretty girl," he adds, his smile radiating warmth and affection, a beacon of reassurance in the midst of your turmoil. feeling unworthy of such devotion, you struggle to comprehend how someone as incredible as gojo could love you so unconditionally. his declaration of love washes over you like a gentle wave, soothing your battered soul with its sincerity.
"i love you, yeah?" he whispers, his fingers tracing soothing patterns on your back in a tender attempt to calm your racing heart. you nod softly, finding comfort in his embrace, your arms wrapped tightly around him as he kisses away your tears, his touch soothing your soul. "you're perfect," he murmurs against your cheek, his voice filled with adoration as he peppers your face with gentle kisses.
"our baby's lucky to have you as its mama." you cling onto him as if he's your lifeline, his presence grounding you amidst the turmoil of emotions swirling inside you. with each whispered word he rambles to the life growing within you, he fills the air with promises of love and protection, his hand caressing your swollen belly tenderly.
"hey there, little one," he coos, his voice filled with anticipation. "you behave for mama, okay? we can't wait to meet you."
© SUNTORU 2024. do not copy, repost, or translate any of my works on any platform.
#gojo x reader#gojo x y/n#gojo x you#jjk x reader#jjk x y/n#jjk x you#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen x y/n#jujutsu kaisen x you#satoru x reader#satoru x you#gojo satoru x y/n#gojo satoru x reader#gojo satoru x you#jjk fluff#gojo fluff
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