#love is evil fanfiction

[powerbottomeminem]

Eminem: “Thirty years later, I’m still blowing his mind.”

Dr. Dre: “You still makin’ that joke?”

Eminem: “For as long as I get to suck your cock.”

[supalcina-3]

Like she never left 🙇🏾‍♀️😻

[powerbottomeminem]

As in: Nicolas is literally reading self-help books to overcome his worst instincts. He’s been abused his whole life, makes a living by murdering people and all that crazy shit, he very much is not in tune with his emotions - or his body for that matter. But he loves Marshall so much and so tenderly, he doesn’t wanna fuck it up. And he works extra hard at not fucking it up 🥺

get you a man who despite his literal decades of practice repressing and hiding his emotions to survive physically cannot hide how smitten he is with you

[byexbyez]

lovers of valdaro | leon kennedy x reader

PART I  |  PART II  |  PART III (finale)

pairing: leon kennedy x f!reader 

summary: Some things have changed. The months, the weather, the air that hangs between Leon and you. Yet one thing has remained constant: his desire to keep you as close as possible. 

word count: 8.2K of gratuitous smut 

warnings: 18+, smut, established relationship, pda, bickering, consensual somnophilia, groping, dry humping, unprotected p in v, fingering, prone boning, swearing, slight dom/sub undertones, pet names, an attempt at praise kink, pill as contraception, creampie, oral sex (f!receiving), marking, unintentional edging, masturbation, aftercare, no use of y/n, oh and ooc 

notes: i’m sorry to those who were expecting pt 3 to be angsty. i wanted to portray some changes and get used to writing and publishing smut. also, this can be read separately as it is almost all smut. enjoy!

➵ read on ao3.

“This man yaps a lot,” Leon says from behind you, you’re startled by his voice near your ear. His lips tickle your earshell. Like a cat’s fur standing up, your shoulders go up slightly. Renting only one sunbed –a narrow chair, really– for the two of you starts to feel like a mistake. Well, you plan to swim anyway, I’ll just sunbathe, you had said earlier, failing to account for Leon’s FOMO when you pulled out your book from your beach bag. For some reason, he was interested in anything that captured your attention as of late. 

You were looking at travel guides for you and your sister back at home when Leon saw your laptop screen. “What’s this?” he asked, adjusting the screen so he could see it better. 

“Beaches in Italy,” you answered. “My sister will be using her yearly vacation this year. I’m making  a list of places we can go if she asks.” Leon was silent and when you turned to him, already watching you intently. “What?” 

“Our anniversary is coming up.” 

You looked at the date, wondering why he brought it up. “I guess it is.” 

“How about we go? Before your sister asks, I mean,” he suggested, scratching the back of his neck. 

You straightened up on the couch. “You wanna go on a vacation with me?” 

The corners of his lips curled up. “Err, I believe I asked you first.” 

A little girl runs by your sunbed with her arms full of plastic toys, screaming with joy as she plops down to the sand. The bottoms of her tiny feet are red, probably because of how hot the sand is. She begins digging up sand with her toy shovel. 

“It’s Dostoevsky,” you say, like that would be enough clarification for Leon. His arm comes up to pinch the book up top to flip it and peek at its title, which reads “White Nights.”  Propping up your elbow on your torso to adjust both your book and your attention, you try to move as little as possible to not disturb him. He basically made you sit between his legs and lay your back on his chest, saying he would take a dip in the sea in a few minutes. 

You know he’s about to speak again when your head rises along his chest. “He’s been talking nonstop for three pages.” 

“Leon, I’m trying to focus.” 

The little girl a few feet away lets out a frustrated cry when her castle crumbles down, her little arms flap irritably, chucking the toy shovel in front of her in the process. A slightly older boy, probably her brother, comes to the rescue with a bucket full of sea water. He shows his little sister how to wet the sand for it to hold shape. The sound of waves crashing against the breakwater drowns out their shrill laughter.

“You’re squishing your boob,” Leon blurts out, takes hold of the planted elbow on your breast and lifts it in the air. 

Trying to follow the words, your head knocks on Leon’s chin. “I can’t read like this. Let go of my arm.” 

“Nuh-uh. If I let go, you’re gonna keep pressing your arm to your boob and have a nip slip.” 

“I’m not gonna have a nip slip.” 

“Whatever the correct verb for a nip slip is, it will happen.” His chin digs into the crown of your hair. “And those teenagers will remember this day forever.” 

Your eyebrows scrunch together. “What teenagers?” 

“The ones that are looking this way,” Leon states in a matter-of-factly tone. He’s right, a bunch of boys are in the sea, laughing among themselves by splashing water. Every now and then their heads tilt up to your direction. 

You look down on yourself to see if the swimsuit is covering you like it’s supposed to. There’s nothing wrong with it, yet that doesn’t stop you from setting the book down on your stomach. “Why are they looking here? What’s wrong with my swimsuit?” 

“It looks good on you, that’s why. Hormonal teenagers.” 

“I think it’s the position we’re in,” you mumble. Your back feels damp with sweat as you peel away from him, sitting up further away.

But Leon has other plans, he snakes his hand around your shoulder and plants his palm right on your sternum, pulling you back to him by your chest. 

“Oof,” you breathe out once you collide with his torso again. 

He taps his fingers on your breastbone as he catches the slipping book on your lap. “Here, I’ll hold it. You turn the pages.” 

“It’s too hot for this,” you groan. 

“Pardon me for doing something,” he says, sounding neither hurt nor sorry. 

“You said you’d swim,” you say, though it sounds more like a suggestion. “Want me to lather you up in sunscreen? I know you didn’t put it on back at the hotel.” 

“I mean, when you ask it like that, sure.” He’s grinning like a cheshire cat, it warms your heart that he’s pleased with himself just by managing to get under your skin. Something quite like a heartbeat, it feels intimate, an embrace out in the open. In a snap, you shake off the feeling. You’re not going to see these people again, they do not know you, just like how you don’t know the couple dipping their feet in the water while holding hands, little girl building sandcastles with her brother, young boys jumping on each other’s backs. Who would have thought being a stranger to all of it would make your yearning flesh all the more tender? 

Your wandering eyes shut in bliss when you feel it. A featherlight, barely-there kiss on the back of your neck, placed just below your hair, followed by the disappearance of your book from your sight. Leon reaches down to drop it in your bag, you wiggle away to let him search for the bottle of sunscreen. 

“Take your shirt off,” you say once you turn to face him. 

“Damn, woman. At least buy me dinner first.” 

“Can you get any cornier? You’re getting overpriced beer at best.” 

“...May your sky always be clear, may your dear smile always be bright and happy, and may you be for ever blessed for that moment of bliss and happiness which you gave to another lonely and grateful heart. Isn't such a moment sufficient for the whole of one's life–?”

Your attention snaps away from your book over a playful voice. “Hey, miss. Sorry to bother you.” Leon is standing a few steps in front of your chair, hands on his hips, most of his weight on one leg. Water drops cling to his firm chest, following a delectable path down his muscles. Some even caress his faded scars gently, a reminder that he has endured things far from gentle. His hair seems darker due to saltwater, the tips of it almost poking his eyes, by the looks of him having to shake them away from his face when he attempts to tilt his head to the side. “Are you perhaps single?” 

You purse your lips to suppress a grin. “Why are you asking?” 

“I’m interested.” 

“Oh,” you croon in mock-embarrassment. “I’m married.” You make sure to show off the gold band on your ring finger. 

He walks next to your chair. “Lucky guy. Speaking of, where is he?” His gaze lingers on your legs that are bent towards your chest, the book propped up on your knees. 

You close the book and play along. “He’s swimming.” 

“Is he a good swimmer?” 

“Yeah, his strokes are phenomenal.” 

His eyebrows shoot up. “Are we still talking about swimming?” 

You tilt your head to the side. “Why yes, is there a misunderstanding?” 

“No, no. Just making sure we’re on the same page here. Tell me more about him.” 

You gesture to the empty room on the foot of the sunchair. “Then you might want to sit here for a while. Maybe dry off?” 

“I’d love to keep you company until your husband shows up.” Leon sits sideways next to your feet, way too familiar for a ‘stranger.’ “What’s he like?”

“First of all, he looks a lot like you.” You press your lips together. This is ridiculous. “He’s also incredibly annoying.” When Leon gasps half-mockingly, you cast a sideways glance at him. “His jokes are really corny, he’s lucky I put up with them.” 

“That might hurt his feelings.” 

“Well, he’s not here.” 

He scrunches his eyebrows together, there’s a visible question mark in his blink. “My jokes are that bad?” 

“Aaand, the play is over.” You slap your knees lightly, sliding your feet towards Leon until your toes touch the side of his thigh. “We are not sharing the chair again. You’re still dripping.” 

A sluggish sigh escapes his lips. “Let me lean on you at least.” 

And before you can say no, Leon is relocating your hands from your knees, moving them by your wrists, placing your arms at your sides. He folds his own arms on top of your knees and rests his temple on them, hugging your knees to himself, looking off into the side. You could lean forward and bury your nose in his hair like this, inhale the sun and salt, let your lips linger, let him feel the ghost of a kiss for a change. Though he was always better at unprompted acts of affection, maybe because he didn’t think much of it. 

It’s peaceful—the secluded space you’ve managed to carve out for the two of you, despite the chaos of the crowded beach. It feels like a quiet world unto itself, hidden in plain sight amid a sea of distant faces, as if removed from everything around you. It’s strangely intimate. Minutes or hours pass, you can’t make out which, lost in the stillness. 

When Leon speaks, his thumb starts brushing your knee. “I can hear you think,” he murmurs, his voice low. What’s going on in that head of yours? 

“Will you tell me a truth?” you ask, almost in a whisper. 

Leon doesn’t lift his head up, lazy like a cat in the sun. Although his body reminds him to be on guard upon hearing a kid yell in the distance, his muscles twitch reflexively. “Why?” 

“For all of this to feel real.” Your eyes follow the slope of his nose, then the squished red cheek leaning on his forearm. The sunscreen you copiously put on his nose bridge couldn’t protect his skin. You can’t help but admire his long lashes, fluttering so prettily the action could make butterflies jealous. 

His answer surprises you. “I’m scared all the time.” 

“Of what?” 

“You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” His thumb stops moving so he can squeeze your kneecap. “I’m scared that one day you’ll want us to go our separate ways. I’m scared that I will not be able to let you go. You know I wasn’t able to do it the first time around. I dread the day you won’t want to see my face again.” 

“Leon–” 

“Sometimes I get scared that something will happen to you and I will lose you.” 

It dawns on you then. The reason why you’ve been waking up to strong arms tangled around your waist for months. 

“Leon, nothing’s going to happen to me.” 

However, he’s still going on. “If you decide you’ve had enough, just let me know, okay? Don’t just up and leave.” 

Your throat constricts itself. You don’t know what to say to that. Part of you wants to do just that: up and leave. Not the way he means but in a way to escape his hold, step aside to mull it over and come up with a humane response. The fact that he couldn’t meet your eyes while saying all that leaves your heart with a dull ache, chest too heavy to even breathe. 

He finally looks up, expression unreadable. His eyes scour your face, searching for something. “Does it feel real now?” 

You swallow on nothing as you meet his eyes. Sure, you nod. It terrifies you how real it actually feels. 

Leon thinks he’s a genius for lowering the temperature of the air-conditioning while you were in the bathroom, carrying out your night routine. No, he didn’t have any malicious intent, not at all, he was just sweating a lot even after his shower. By the time you entered the bed in your pajamas, you suspected nothing, lifted the bedcover to join him. Your skin was glowing from all the products he couldn’t wrap his head around, your lips were shining clear. For a moment, he wanted to plant his mouth to your lips and taste the vaseline. 

He was aroused, which was not surprising considering the amount of sex you two had been having. It’s become so regular that he thinks he never had this much compatibility with anyone before. Goodnight, Leon, you murmured before gracing him with the sight of your back, voice so sweet he nearly whined out of desperation. He didn’t know why he waited for your breathing to fall steady, he’s been holding you in your sleep for a while now. Every morning you wake up before him and toss his arms aside, get the day started. 

When he’s sure that you’ve fallen asleep, he makes his move, drapes an arm around your waist, pressing his bare chest to your clothed back, spooning you. He’s careful not to wake you despite the evidence of his arousal resting against your ass. Normally, he would ignore it and take care of it in the morning but you make that impossible by squirming in your sleep. A few minutes pass by and he guesses the room must feel like an icebox to you, he knows you get cold quickly. Leon thinks he’s a genius because he could just wake you up and suggest warming you up. He also thinks he’s a fool because what if you don’t wake up, with all this squirming? He could move to the side and wait for the cold to do its own thing or he could just get up and go to the bathroom to rub one out. Or he could lower his boxers, do it right here. He’s positive you wouldn’t mind, that’s how intimate you two have become.  

Before he can decide, a shiver takes over your body, a soft whimper escaping your lips. Now Leon feels bad. He’ll just get up and fix the AC to an acceptable temperature. 

You shrivel into him, searching for warmth. The arm across your waist reaches up, the entirety of his hand cupping your breast that’s pressed against the bed. His body runs hot despite the breeze in the hotel room, so he thinks this will help. Just as a quiet, needy cry from your throat travels to his burning ears, his other arm snakes beneath your body to press against your belly. He squeezes you tightly until he can feel the blood pumping through your veins, buries his nose into the crook of your neck. Inhaling deeply bestows on him your enticing scent. 

Guilt washes over him as he ruts his hips into your sleep shorts, because who becomes an animal in heat when they smell clean soap? 

Leon. Leon does. 

The smallest things have been setting him off. All of your flimsy sundresses, swaying of your hips in them, your smooth legs, the gold anklet that matches with your wedding ring, the swimsuit that makes your cleavage call his attention. You, taking his arm while walking side to side. In fact, he suppressed smothering his face into your cheek today at lunch—cuteness aggression— as he tried to eat his food in peace. You were enjoying your pasta, humming contentedly after your first bite, you smiled at him when you caught him watching you intently. Leon was never into taking pictures but at that moment, he wanted to engrave the picture of you smiling up at him lovingly into his memory for the future, remember your crinkled eyes and adorably scrunched up nose when he would miss you. He knew he would miss that moment right when it was happening, he’d be gone again for an assignment soon. 

“What?” You laughed.

“That good?” he asked, eyes pointing to your bowl of pasta. 

“Yep! Want some?” 

Leon keeps clinging until your body twitches no longer, takes deep breaths against your neck, pleased as his heat completely stills you. His hold relaxes as he becomes aware of his grip strength. He releases his clamped fingers from your breast, stroking your nipple apologetically. It will surely leave a mark on your soft skin, which you will whine about later, though he knows deep down you enjoy him being rough with you. After all, it was you who brought up that you weren’t made of glass, he didn’t need to act as if you were going to break. 

Your soft sighs soothe him to an extent, as far as the strain in his boxers allow. Fuck it, he thinks. He’s still humping your backside, cock throbbing. He’s going to wake you up. Pounce on you once you open your eyes. 

Forefinger and thumb pinching a hardening nipple, he nuzzles his face into where your neck meets your shoulder, dropping heavy kisses first, then switching to sucking your skin. If he could drown in your smell, he would. “Honey, please wake up.” 

“Hm?” He hears you, heart starting to beat even faster. “Leon?” Your first touch is on his arms, fingertips ice cold, groggy voice calling to him. 

“You awake?” he breathes in your ear. 

Feeling tickled, your shoulder rises to your ear. “Clearly,” you reply hoarsely. His thigh is glued to the back of yours, reaching back to hold it, you manage to slow his movements. His erection is fully pressed against you. “Everything okay?” 

“No.” He pants in your hair. “Need to fuck you.” 

“Leon,” you groan, face dropping fully into your pillow. “I’m too tired.” 

“Please, you don’t need to do anything.” 

“Don’t think I can even lift my leg.” 

“Then don’t. I’ll do everything. Lift your hips for a second so I can get this off?” 

“Fine,” you huff, rolling onto your stomach so his strong-willed hands can strip off your shorts along with your underwear. “We don’t have lube.” 

He drops a kiss to your cheek. “I’ll just have to prep you.” 

Ugh, so sweet. “Make it quick,” you say as he carefully sits on the backs of your thighs, his knees trapping your legs together. “How do we do this?” 

“Stay still,” he mumbles, barely audible. You grow impatient as you hear him moving in the dark, taking off his only piece of clothing. He reaches over to the bedside drawer to turn on the lamp. The blanket is scattered across the bed. You hiss sharply, eyes adjusting to the soft light. 

He holds your shoulders firmly. “What’s wrong?” 

“Why is it so cold?” 

Somehow, you can hear him grinning behind you. “The AC’s broken.” 

“Have you tried calling the reception? It’s too cold for this.” 

“I’ll warm you up,” he says as his heat hovers over you, fingers hiking up your flimsy camisole to gain access to your waist, the other hand shaking off the thin straps. He buries his nose into the back of your neck, kissing a path to your right shoulder, sharp teeth grazing skin along the way. He shifts his attention to your left shoulder, reaching down to cup your ass, pulling apart your cheeks. His fingers find your sex straight away; he’s familiar with your body. 

“You’re a bit wet for someone who’s feeling too tired,” he teases. 

You don’t bother with pleasantries. “I will leave you blue-balled for the rest of the week.” 

“Right,” he says. “Lift your head up.” 

“I just woke up, you’re asking for too much from me.” 

He nudges his nose into the back of your ear instead of answering. Kiss me, he demands, pressing his hips to your plushness. Familiar with his silent commands, you submit to his reign, craning your neck back, open mouth chasing his. 

Your mouths clash unceremoniously. It’s messy, sloven, uncoordinated, and animalistic. He finds your tongue in no time, suckling on the wet muscle all the while managing to lift your shoulders off the bed to drop your thin straps around your elbows, pulling your camisole down. Now your top sits below your naked breasts, bunched around your middle like a thick headband. Leon’s jaw moves as if he’s thirsty, drinking from your mouth unapologetically. The noises from your so-called kissing are obscene, filling the room along with the sounds of heavy breathing. Heat starts to pool in your lower belly, body slowly warming up. 

Quick as a wink, a strong hand wraps around the back of your neck, pushing you face down to the mattress. Your surprised yelp into your pillow is cut short once he pulls your hair gently, laughing next to your ear. “Don’t want you to suffocate. Try to keep your head up. Can you do that for me, honey?” 

Rolling your eyes, you bite back a remark. Resting your cheek on the pillow is all he’s going to get. After all, he did tell you that you didn’t need to do anything. Your crushed breasts feel funny, one side aching considerably more than the other, owing to him groping it roughly while you were sleeping. 

Leon lets out a low chuckle and continues his undeterred path from your jaw to your neck, nipping at skin, leaving a stinging sensation behind. His knees make room for your squirming legs, a perfect chance for him to dip his hand between your thighs, a slight part of your legs to accommodate his fingers on your cunt. Rubbing your lower lips, he slicks his fingers with your wetness. 

Your breath hitches when two pads of fingers make contact with your clit, drawing tight circles. “That feel good?” His voice is muffled by your skin. 

You groan a noise of confirmation as he puts more pressure on his fingertips, quickening his movements on your now soaked pussy. His thumb catches at your entrance, maybe accidentally, and you can’t hold yourself back from pursuing that pleasure, back arching so your hips could sway up, chasing his touch. Thankfully, he is quick to place his thumb back, swiping back and forth. The double stimulation on your opening and clit creates enough lubrication for him to slide right in. 

Your eagerness doesn’t go unnoticed by Leon, the feel of his teeth on your earlobe is a wary appreciation. “Too tired, huh? Look at you.” He means your hips in the air, quivering right in front of his view. “Lemme help you relax.” 

You think he’ll finally thrust himself in, however, you’re taken by surprise when he works two fingers into you, the stretch unexpected, but appreciated nonetheless. He shoves your hips back down into the mattress, arm across the small of your back to keep you steady against the bed. “Don’t be disappointed. I need to open you up first,” he speaks into your temple, nose pressed to the tail of your eyebrow. He starts moving his fingers in and out. “Don’t want you to hurt.” 

He grabs a handful of your ass to pull apart while working your cunt open with his fingers. Your whole body feels electrified each time he strokes the velvety walls of your pussy, throat humming with need. 

“Leon…” you moan, wanting to arch into him. Your desperate hand slides under your belly to touch your clit. “Enough.” 

But that’s not what you want to tell him. You want to tell him this is not enough, he needs to be inside you right now or you will start to wail, turn over and jump his bones. This is quite the opposite from where everything started, with you worked up and fussy in his hands, unable to speak properly. 

You feel him watching his own hand between your legs, ears perked up for the sounds coming from where you are gushing, shallowing his thrusts once he feels your fingers join in. “Enough? You don’t want to come first?” 

“S’cold,” you cry out. “Fuck me already.” 

“Oh, I’m sorry, honey,” he coos at you, pulling his soaked digits out of you, head rising to meet with your parted lips. The arm around your waist slides up, fingers gently digging into your scalp to hold you in place as he kisses you, using the fingers he just pulled out of you to slick up his cock. He moans into your mouth before pulling away. 

“You have me. Ready?” 

You nod into the pillow. 

As he presses his swollen tip into you, he watches the back of your head tip back with a shiver, your neck exposed for him to reach and grab. Instead, he wraps his arm around your neck in a gentle headlock, helping you rest your cheek on his bicep, the movement helping him slip further inside you. 

Hot, bullish breaths burrow into your neck when he is buried to the hilt, balls pressed against your clit and fingers that are spreading yourself. 

“Fuck, you smell so good,” he whispers, his torso meeting your back. 

He presses his entire weight down onto you and it is glorious, being trapped between him and the mattress, surrounded by his body heat with no room to flee. Not that you even consider it. Though your wrist, strained under the weight, digs into your pelvis as he begins to thrust feverishly. “Oh, fuck,” he grunts. 

Your mouth opens to let him know of the awkward position your arm is in but you only manage to moan wantonly. He takes it as a cue to snap his hips faster. 

“Wait, Leon—my wrist.” 

He stops completely, lifting his hips slightly for you to pull your arm out from underneath, dropping a kiss in your hair as an apology. “Fuck, sorry. Forgot your hand was there. Are you good? Am I too heavy?” 

Your hands fist around the sheets to brace yourself. He did not pull himself fully out of you, you just want him to fill you to the brim again. Even though you don’t know if you can come like this. “No, I’m good. Let’s continue.” 

As your wish comes true, his hips pick up a frenzied pace, the bed starts to shake. You don’t know how he manages it, you’re immobilized under him, high on the pleasurable feeling. Your poor nipples are chafing against the sheets with all the movement. The noises escaping your lips are embarrassingly loud, mingling with the creaky springs of the hotel bed. He doesn’t hold back either, sucking love-bites wherever his mouth can reach, moaning against your spit-lacquered skin. Palms sliding under your shoulders to hold you even closer, he squeezes you to himself while letting his weight push you hard into the mattress. 

It’s as if he wants to open up his chest and tuck you beneath his ribs, or crawl beneath your skin from behind, until you both become one. 

His pace falters, you squeak as he bottoms out, walls pulsing around him. He must have been desperately horny, for he is spitting out delirious things in your ear. “Fuck, fuck, fuck— you look so cute. You always do.” 

“Huh?” 

Rather than addressing your confusion, he leans in your face. One hand cups your jaw, guiding your face to his, squishing your cheeks together until your lips are puckered, ready for him to attack, though it’s a pleasant assault of kisses. “You’re so—” Kiss. “Soft.” Kiss. “It makes me crazy.” Kiss. “And you always smell so good.” Kiss. 

“Leon, what’s gotten into you—mmph!” 

He doesn’t care about what you have to say about his raving state; instead, he crashes his lips to yours for a longer, deeper kiss. His strong arm hugs your neck again, cradling you to himself. You swallow his animalistic groan when your fingers tangle in his hair, pulling on the tresses while trying to squirm. His hair has gotten so long; a luxury of taking time off work. 

His hips start to grind, precise snaps eliciting small sounds out of both of you, his cock massaging your innermost crevices. 

“You’re like an angel,” he whispers in your mouth, panting wildly. “You feel like heaven. God, I love you. I can’t believe—shit, I’m close. I’m gonna come. Tell me where to come.” 

If he wasn’t literally in your face, you might have missed it—that sacred, dangerous word slipping past his lips as if it was an everyday occurrence. 

It didn’t even register at first, partly because it happened so quickly and partly because it made you clamp down on him with an intense ripple of pleasure, causing him to grunt. 

Losing all strength in your muscles, you sag against his arm on the pillow, neck too numb to keep your head up, feet plopping down with a pat. When did you lift your feet up? 

Like a snap of a thread, his demeanor changes instantly. Concerned, he brushes your hair away from your face hastily. “Baby, did you just come?” 

A sound resembling “yes” is murmured into your pillow, your whole body feeling prickly upon the fondness in his voice, spasming uncontrollably. He’s still inside you, reaching incredibly deep, hip bones digging into the meat of your ass, caging you in his warmth. 

“Didn’t even need me to touch your clit,” he says. There’s that smugness in his tone, like he didn’t just rock your whole world. 

Feeling fuzzy around the edges, you remember his need to have a release, and words rush out without much thought, “Inside. Come inside.” 

The faint rhythm of his hips turn sloppy upon hearing you. He’s gasping, “Are you sure?” 

“Yes, I’m on the pill.” 

“Fuck. Thank you, baby.” 

His face finds home in your neck again. It’s not long before you feel the thick trickle of warmth filling you up. Coming to his senses, his arms loosen around you, waiting for his breathing to turn to normal. 

You can sleep like this, you think. With him literally in your skin, smothered under his delectable weight. It’s calming. 

Eventually, he pulls out and rolls over on his back, the absence of his weight feels oddly sad. He turns his neck towards you. “That was… something else. How are you feeling?” 

You stretch your arms, sliding them under your pillow. “Like I’ve just run a marathon. And I didn’t even move much.” 

“Now that you’re properly tired, you’re gonna sleep like a log.” He chuckles, throwing an arm on his forehead. 

You slide a hand between your legs, knitting your eyebrows, reconsidering. “We need to clean up first.” 

“Right,” he sighs. “I promised you I wouldn’t make you move, didn’t I? Wait here.”

Before you can say anything, he gets up from the bed, picks up his underwear from the ground and heads to the bathroom. You don’t move in case the viscid fluids threaten to leak onto the bed. He comes back with a few rolled-up toilet papers and a damp towel, with his underwear on. He sits on the edge of the bed next to you. 

You spread your legs as he holds up the rolled-up toilet papers to your dripping entrance. “Push it out.” 

You squeeze out the mixture of you and him. Your cheeks flare up, not because of embarrassment. But because of something else. Him instructing you with a raspy voice shouldn’t get you fired up, your limbs are still weak from the earth-shattering orgasm he pulled out of you, but your body reacts on its own volition. 

“I didn’t know you were on the pill,” he continues as he wipes down your sweat with the towel. 

“A recent development,” you say, eyes heavy with sleepiness. “Started it a while ago, I meant to tell you.” 

“That’s fine.” He cleans up the residue between your thighs lastly. The pressure of his touch is so careful, in case you’re overstimulated. “Honestly, I think I found out about it in the best way.” 

A small chuckle from you eases his heart. The image of you lying naked on your belly, your head turned to the side with bleary eyes is like a painting to him. He leans down and places a gentle kiss between your shoulder blades. 

“Can I wake you up in the morning?” he mutters into your skin before hoisting your camisole to its place on your shoulders. 

You understand his implication. “Yeah, but no sooner than eight or I’ll be super cranky.” 

“We’ll miss breakfast.” 

“Breakfast or sex. The choice is yours.” 

“Room service it is.” 

Eventually, he finds your panties and shorts under the blankets, lifts them up over your hips, and finishes dressing you.

You give him a smile, fingers resting on your lips as you ponder. “I have something to ask you.”

“I know,” he replies, too quickly. He’s aware of the things he’s just said. “I know you want to talk about it. But I feel awful for disturbing your sleep. You’re tired. We can talk all you want in the morning. Just know that I meant it.” 

“C’mere,” you whisper, rolling onto your side to reach out to him.

This time, it’s Leon who seeks warmth, succumbing to the balmy caress of your hand as you pull him in.

The kiss is too soft, too fragile, and he wants it to linger forever. 

He’s offended when you pull away abruptly. But that feeling is short-lived as you turn your head away to sneeze twice. “Bless you,” he says. 

Deep down inside, remembering he changed the settings of the AC, he rolls his eyes at himself. He gets up and turns it off, throwing the soiled toilet papers in the trash on his way. “I’ll call the reception the first thing tomorrow.” 

Leon is insatiable. 

The first things he notices when he opens his crusty eyes is his morning wood and the deep red hues scattered across the back of your neck in front of his face. Wiping the sleep from his eyes with one hand—the other arm trapped under your neck—he presses himself to your backside. A repeat of what started everything. 

He retracts after letting out a low growl into your hair, only to roll you on your back by your shoulders. You’re still asleep, muscles all soft and pliant under his maneuvering. So pretty, he thinks. The tiny flutter of your eyelashes casts soft, quivering shadows on the apples of your cheeks as warm sunlight streams into the room through a narrow gap in the curtains. Hovering over you between your legs, he cups your face, thumbs caressing the dainty shadows. His breaths fan your face as a gentle nudge to your slumber. 

“Baby…” he croaks, voice all ragged from hours of disuse over the night. 

Even in your sleep you seek out his touch, nuzzling your face into his palm, rousing something carnal in him. His lips get to work on your throat briskly, sucking the delicate skin, humming against it. 

He feels the vibrations of the mellow sound your throat gives out against his lips and continues the path down to your clavicle, leaving ruddy blemishes behind. Rubbing up and down on your thighs, his palms curve behind the backs of your knees, bending them to spread your legs completely open against the bed. He presses his hard-on to your center. 

Your cunt must be sore, he’ll kiss it better. 

He mouths at the tops of your breasts, palms fondling them up in his face. “I’ll take care of you,” he whispers, though you’re too drowsy to hear. 

His head slips down the blanket, your cover slides down your body as it gets caught on his broad back, opening an airway for him. 

He starts littering kisses on the inside of your thigh, beginning from your knee and continuing the path up to your groin, pulling back each time his nose touches the verge of your panties. He looks up expectantly to see you stir. Because once he sees you awake, he’ll devour you. 

You are stirring, head lolling in an attempt to turn on your side. Leon’s hands quickly clamp down on your thighs, “Nuh-uh.” He denies you, keeping your hips still. His mouth switches to your other thigh, repeating his ministrations. 

His teeth graze the edge of your underwear. Your leg twitches under his touch, which further encourages his sudden urge. 

Blunt teeth sink into the soft, supple flesh of your inner thigh. 

That seems to wake you up as your head jerks, hand flying to his hair between your legs under the blanket. “Ow.” 

“Morning.” His tongue darts out to soothe the dull ache. 

With heavy eyelids, you crane your neck to assess the situation. His lips are slick and plump from all the kissing and biting. “Mhm. Good morning.” Yawning, you cover your mouth with the back of your hand, the other one cards through Leon’s hair lazily. As your grip tightens, you drop your head back to the pillow to blink away the haziness. 

The sounds of his lips smacking against your skin are accompanied by the fan noises filling the room. You realize you’re no longer sweating like you were through the night, when the broken air-conditioning left you sweltering—or would have had you freezing if it were actually running. You’re confused. “AC’s working again?” 

You feel him smiling against your thigh. “Yeah. Called the reception and everything.” 

“What was wrong with it?” 

“I’m literally in between your legs and that’s what you wanna know? Like, right now?” He nuzzles your underwear, placing a kiss on your clothed center to stress his frustration, which you reply with a startled whimper. 

“First, I risked frostbite and then sweated like it was hell. Of fucking course I wanna know the reason of my suffering.” 

“You didn’t suffer,” he says in a jeering tone, fingers hooking under your panties to peel them off. He’s quick to get rid of that obstructive piece of fabric. “I’d say I took pretty good care of you.” 

You roll your eyes dramatically. “Yeah, yeah—world’s best husband or whatever, keeps waking me up because he’s horny.” 

“Hey, you said breakfast or pussy and I made my choice.” 

He licks a path up from your entrance to your clit, your hips jump. He grips your thighs and slings them over his shoulders. 

“I did not say that.” Words slurred, your eyes close upon the honeyed sensation. 

“Something along those lines,” he mumbles, lips brushing against the sensitive little bud of nerves. 

You kick the blanket off his back so he doesn’t suffocate under the heat. The slight temperature change makes your hips jerk up to his face, his morning stubble scratches the insides of your thighs deliciously. He drapes an arm across your abdomen to keep you steady. His other arm tugs on the thigh slung over his shoulder, only slightly, to make room for his head. 

Two fingers brush your slit, spreading apart slowly to gain access to your most sensitive parts. It’s still a little tender and swollen that when his hot breath fans across the sensitive flesh, your legs try to shut instinctively. His hold grows stronger to remind you not to squash his head. He licks a broad swipe up your slit and looks up at you through his long lashes. 

You can’t help but moan. He looks so pretty like this. 

Leaning forward, he places a kiss directly on your clitoris, the soft smack sound sends a hot burn to your ears. 

He parts his lips to suck your sensitive clit into his mouth, your back arches as you gasp. His plump lips pull on the taut flesh, making you writhe against the sheets. Now aware of your fist that was bunching the sheets this whole time, you let go to join it with your other hand in his hair.  

He’s always liked your hands in his hair, petting it, tugging at it, pulling it to steer him to where you need him most, he loves it all. He moans as you make a mess of his soft tresses, sending jolts of vibrations up your body. 

Relaxing his tight jaw with a wet pop, he quickly drops a kiss to the juncture of your thigh and begins to lap up your dripping mound like a starved man. 

“Leon!” Your back arches again, hands buried in his hair pressing his face firmly between your legs. You’re not sure if he can even breathe with your thighs caging him. You don’t care, he’ll tap you if he wants to take a breather. 

Blindly, the hand that keeps your slit open slides up to your chest, to push between the valley of your breasts. You clutch your palm on the back of his hand, fingers slotting between his. He squeezes his hand once. I’m alright, it means. He keeps your intertwined hands there. 

His face burrows deeper into your slick, thrusting his tongue into your hole in and out. Nose pressed against your clit, he hums contentedly and starts wiggling his head, sending a wave of pleasure through your body. 

The gasps that fall from your lips fuel him, he drags his tongue back up to your sensitive bud, flicking up and down with only one goal in his mind. 

Up and down. Suck. Up and down. Suck. 

“Too much, ‘s too much!” You repeat with a shaky voice. But you are insatiable too, with the way you guide his hand to your tit, encouraging him to squeeze tight. 

“I know, baby, I know. Just tell me when,” he rasps, trying to keep up with your bucking hips. Groping your breast under your pressing palm, he can’t quite reach to your shoulder to lower the straps of your top, though his fingers find your taut nipple through the fabric and start to draw circles around the pebbled peak. 

His stubble burns your thighs so good it only drives you more crazy. Your droopy eyes lock with his determined ones, mouth hanging open in a silent moan, hand brushing away the hair on his forehead. 

He tightens his tongue and places the tip of it right on your sensitive clit, wriggling the wet muscle in a snake-like fashion, and listens to your moans. Each roll of his tongue is a sweet torment, delivering sparks of pleasure to your quivering body. 

“That’s not—ah!—that’s not fair.” 

His mouth never leaving your pussy, he hums questioningly. “Mm?” The short syllable vibrates through your core, making you fussier. 

What’s not fair? His hips grinding into the mattress? The hand that previously held you down now slipping under his boxers to rub his slick, swollen tip? Fairness is not even the last thing on his mind right now. He’s too drunk on your essence, happily suffocated between your legs, unaware of the fast pace his hand picks up on his cock. He’s fully pumping himself. 

You also know you’re not making any sense. A hot blush warms your chest, travels up your neck to your ears, a thin sheen of sweat coating your skin. Your body is screaming for release, of course you don’t have any idea what you are blabbering about. 

Feeling your clit pulse beneath his tongue, he waits to hear your staccato breathing, waits for the tumble of unintelligible words to fall on his ears. 

“Leon, I’m… I’m—ah, fuck!” 

Just before the intense wave of pleasure comes crashing down on you, he tears his mouth away from you, panting for oxygen. 

“No, please,” you cry out. “Don’t be mean.” 

Not wanting to deny you stimulation, he gets to work on your tit and gives it a firm squeeze for good measure before returning his fingers to your aching nipple. He toys with it, flicking, pressing down, pinching through fabric. You whine softly through it all, trying to wrap your trembling legs tighter around his head so he could return to what he was doing before. 

“Please, I was about to come…” 

“I know, honey, I’m sorry. I needed to breathe.” He plucks at your nipple, rolling it before returning to your sex. 

This time he alternates between kitten licks and soft kisses on your clit, meant to be soothing. It feels as if he’s grazing a feather on your oversensitive, swelled up nerves. It’s so ticklish that your hips jump to chase after the phantom itch. 

That’s all it takes for the overwhelming waves of pleasure to come crashing down on you. The coil in your belly snaps. Eager as ever, he presses his open and panting mouth against your cunt, moaning against the spasming flesh. Cleaning up the remnants of your climax is only a poor excuse for his lips to linger. He presses a kiss to your thigh before pulling away from between your legs, the slick coating his mouth and chin leaves your skin damp. 

Taking a deep breath, he rises to sit on his knees between your thighs. Your legs drop from his shoulders. Pride fills his chest once he eyes up the litter of love-bites on your flushed skin. His doing. The rapid rise and fall of your chest. Also his doing. 

Through a fucked-out smile, you say, “What? What’s so funny?” 

Unaware that he’s cheesing, he shakes his head. “Nothing, honey. You look so pretty.” 

“I feel nasty, though.” 

He shuts you up with a kiss, making you taste yourself on his tongue. 

“Mm… How about you?” you mumble into the kiss while ruffling his soft hair. 

His hips are grinding against his hand in a faint rhythm, palm stroking up and down slowly. He huffs. “Keep spreading your legs and it won’t take long.” 

Discerning the questioning raise of your brow, he swipes a thumb at the corner of your lip. “I’m not gonna put it in. I know you’re sensitive, baby. Trust me. Please?” 

You wiggle a bit to open your legs further, trying to find a comfortable spot on the bed because the way he kept pinning you has you feeling sores on your butt. “Yeah, okay.” 

Lining himself up against your slit, he hovers his cock above your puffy cunt and keeps stroking. He groans and bucks into his hand, head falling backwards. You whimper and bunch the sheets in your fists. He looks so hot. His hair is chaotically messy, lips swollen and slick, hand working desperately on his cock. Your pussy flutters at the sight. 

Eyes zeroing in on your center, he says, “Show me. Hold yourself open.” 

You reach down and spread yourself for him, shamelessly displaying what he wants. Your hole clenches down on nothing upon the little stretch, pulling another groan out of him. 

He’s grinning, head tilted to the side. “Fuck, that’s it. Like what you see, huh?” 

You nod fast, staring at the movement between your legs. It’s captivating. 

Feeling devious, you lift your hips slightly to touch your pulsing clit to his red tip, directly to his precum-coated slit. Like a featherlight kiss. It sends a pleasurable shock through your entire body, you plop down on the bed again. 

“Oh shit—you…” His expression tells you he’s very close.

Gripping your thigh, he jerks himself to completion against your twitching pussy. Thick spurts of cum coat your center and belly, your thighs get to have their fair share, too. 

A breathless laugh escapes him, like he can’t quite believe what just happened. His gaze softens, as though clearing a daze. “I’m sorry. Let me carry you to the bathroom.”

A quiet shift lingers in the air. 

He’s so silent while massaging shampoo into your hair, cocooned by your arms around his waist, water cascading over his back. His lips are set in a straight line, eyes roaming your face and coming back to meet your gaze every once in a while. 

You and him, in that sacred, safe haven again. 

I can hear you think. He wills you to speak without saying the words. 

“You don’t need to be scared.” 

His hands pause in your hair. Of what? 

“The things you said at the beach yesterday… You don’t need to be scared, Leon. I’m not going anywhere. I’m not leaving you,” you continue. 

He pulls you closer, cups the back of your neck and rests your head on his shoulder. I love you. 

“And I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of seeing your face. I miss it terribly when you’re away.” You nudge his neck with your nose. 

He closes his eyes. I love you. 

“Tell me a truth?” you whisper, watching the slow up and down of his Adam’s apple. 

The urge to draw you even closer to himself is too strong. Come, live inside my skin—I’m yours, anyway. Instead, he opens his heavy-lidded eyes, locking his gaze with yours. 

“I love you.” 

With a slow and languid kiss, he seals his lips to yours, weaving your souls together in that tranquil, infinite moment. 

“At times I think of human relationships as something soft like sand or water, and by pouring them into particular vessels we give them shape.”

― Sally Rooney, Beautiful World, Where Are You

[killuintense]

leon slutty shake waist kennedy !!!

[im-totally-not-an-alien-2]

Halloween prompts year 2 day 14

Tim was the best thing to ever happen to Danny.

He didn't mean that just because how much of a sappy romantic he was to Tim, but because he literally saved him from his own mind.

Danny was never going to leave Amity Park so long as the portal was open.

The portal would always remain open between his parents practically treating it like thier third child and thier ability to simply make another if anything would have happened to that one. Not to mention the super creep named Vlad.

So Danny would have stayed in Amity forever, cleaning up after his parents and being miserable.

Or ya know. Until they managed to kill him.

But then Tim came into his life and fixed everything. He befriended Danny over nightime rooftop rendezvous and groaning at his dumb (read awesome) puns.

As they got closer Sam and Tucker seemed to get both anxious and angry. Were they jealous? What right did they have after the Gregor incident?! Its true that they'd both been to busy to hand out with Danny for the past few weeks, leaving Danny with only Tim to turn to for company.

Tim pointed out that they may feel threatened knowing someone else knows his secret and Danny couldn't help but agree.

Tim pointed out that Danny was going to be stuck here cleaning up after his parent the rest of his life if he didn't find a way to stop the portal. Danny had nearly broke down at that and admitted he didn't know what else to do, so Tim devised a plan with that big beautiful brain of his.

They created a machine that ran on ectoplasm and magic that could wipe information from both technology and the human brain. They could remove all traces of ghosts ever existing in this town and erase 20 years of knowledge and research from Vlad and the Fentons minds, but it would come at a cost as magic usually does.

They would have to forget Danny existed as well. Tim offered that they could run away together.

Danny decided that was okay. The only person he had left in this town who had cared about him was Jazz and she was better off without him there to get her hurt.

Tim also had a plan to strip Vlad of his powers as well as his knowledge, and Danny was looking forward to not having to deal with him anymore

It was the day after everything went down, Tim was driving the GAV while Danny flew in the Ops Centers Jet form. They had made sure to swipe everything they could from the labs as well as everything the thought they needed to travel to Tims home dimension.

Danny had promised to help Tim uncover the secrets of his past and who he really was and to do that they essentially planned to travel around the Earth being wandering criminals.

Between Tims intellect and Dannys powers they were undefeated and unnoticed. They stole whatever they wanted and did whatever they pleased, making sure no one had to get hurt unless there was no other options.

Of course they stole cash from bank vaults as well as whatever else was in there. They couldn't stop Phantom from entering since anti-meta tech didn't affect him and couldnt track Phantom due to him being whatever he was plus the collar Tim had helped Danny design that covered up his ecto-signature.

They lived like this for over a year, breaking in to abandoned places, having waterfights in large city waterfountains (and running when they heard police sirens), tagging some of the places they'd hit when they wanted to leave a message, long romantic walks at night, lots of laughter, going on dates to restaurants (they never dine & dash. Some places make the wait staff pay which is bull and they might want to return to that establishment at some point), that one time they stole a $900 wedding cake from a homophobic bakery owner, lots of Fake out-Make outs to avoid getting sent to jail, ect.

They were having the time of thier lives up until they stopped in a little 24 hour diner in Bludhaven. They were doing what they usually do, flirting and laughing until the waiter takes thier order, when a guy approached thier table. Tim and Danny exchanged worried looks before the guy held up his hands in mock surrender, "I'm not gonna hurt you, I promise, I'm Dick Grayson." The man held out his hand to Tim, who hesitated before shaking it, "Tim," he answered honestly.

Danny nudged him with his foot under the table.

The man smiled wide, "Like Tim Drake?"

Tim and Danny looked confused, "Like who?" Danny asked and Dicks smile faltered

[jestroer]

So uh yeah, Redstone and Skulk by @silverskye13 is definitely my favourite fic ive ever read and im totally normal about it. And here's some character designs! :D

[bunnydollprincess]

A Little Christmas Gift

Leon Kennedy x Fem! Reader

Tags: NSFW MDNI, Smut, Oral (f! recieving), Porn with no plot, unprotected PnV, Pet names (Sweetness, Princess, baby, whore, slut) Degradation & Praise kink, OOC Leon.

Word count: 0.5k.

A/N: Something short while i get back to my usual stuff, sorry for going missing, College drains the creativity sometimes, As alway dividers by @/CafeKitsune.

"F-fuck, Leon wait, we're gonna knock it down" You said as you fell back, pieces of paper ribbon torn to shreds on the floor as Leon kissed and licked your tits. Clashing slightly against the trunk of the Christmas tree where you had originally sat yourself under, waiting for him to get home, wrapped up in that silly decorative paper.

"Yeah? Well, i  want to open my present properly Sweetness" he laughed as he released your skin with a pop, panting as he reached for the last bits of ribbon on your legs.

It didn't take more than a rough movement to rip it off, quickly pushing your legs apart "You really thought…" His voice a low growl as he left wet kisses trailing down your thighs "you could be a lil minx right after i came back? Leave me hot and bothered?" Biting slightly at your plush meat. "Not this time. You're dealing with it, right here"

He moved your panties to the side, tongue slowly teasing at your needy clit as you grasped at the Tree skirt, your mouth falling open with a moan of his name.

"fuck— Princess" he groaned, his cock twitching as you tried to close your legs, pressing him further into your cunt "No, be a good slut and keep them open so i can fuck you nice and hard.''

His tongue traced lazy circles over your puffy bundle, making you whine, his hot breath and grunts sending some more pleasure waves through your body as his fingers dug into your thighs.

He pulled away from your cunt, just before you could cum, licking the remainder slick off his lips, one hand pressed your thigh against the floor, the other went to pull down his pants and boxers enough for his to spring from them, already hard.

Your face flushed as his tip pressed against your wet whole "What? You're gonna act all innocent? As if you werent here waiting for me? all tied up in that thin Paper, only in your bra and panties?" he mocked you, slighty teasing you with the head of his dick.

His cock sunk inside your pussy, both moaning as he bottomed you out, your gummy walls clenching around his shaft, "L-leon" you cried out, back arching as he thrusted.

You looked so pretty for him, that stupid paper ribbon on your increasingly messier hair, the traces of your little wrap up all torn around you, eyes rolled back as he fucked you stupid, his little Christmas present.

He grunted as your pussy squeezed him, pistoning his cock into your favourite spot, pelvis pressing against your clit.

"God, you were made for me" his voice roughed by arousal. "Was this what you wanted? Me, coming home to ravage you under the tree?"

He teased your clit further with his thumb, making you scream at the extra stimulation, managing only to squeak out "mhm!"

"Use your words slut" he groaned.

"N-needed your cock so so bad" you choked out as you felt your orgasm building up.

"Fuck—" he grunted, upping the speed, teasing you up until you finally came undone under him, back arched again as he kept fucking you through your peak. "gonna fill you up until you cant think straight"

He bit his lip, pace stuttering as your fluttering walls pushed him over the edge, spilling inside you with a low growl.

He panted for a second, staring at you while still inside, before reaching for your hair, putting the decoration on it back in place, pulling the remainder of parts of you from under the tree. Lifting your face up to kiss you, his voice softening up as he pulled out and adjusted his boxers back on, "You were the best present, baby."

[powerbottomeminem]

Year of Ambition!

In 2024 I'm planning to write for three projects. I hope you join me in the smutty, heartbreaking, queer stories I'll put to the page.

Love is Ǝvil

Finally, "Love is Ǝvil" is completed! 🥳 It took me four years and over half a million words, but it's done. Almost. I still have four short stories about Marshall and Nicolas I want to write. About how Eminem and MGK start dating, about Marshall and Ryan and their very complicated relationship, about Marshall finally coming out to the public.

Keep an eye on the series: My Nightmare I Woke Up To (on Ao3).

Flip the Coin, Bitch!

Guess who's back? Bunny girl Marshall and his omega antics, that's who. The story gets a complete overhaul! 🤩 It's still about Marshall and Nicolas softly falling in love and about Marshall figuring out the flavor of queer he is. Additionally, badass shark Roronoa Zoro hits the scene. He has to decide what he's going to do after high school and oh boy, none of the options look good.

Keep an eye on the story: Flip the Coin, Bitch! (on Ao3)

Secret Third Thing

🤫 Not gonna tell you yet.

(It'll be about pirates. If and when I blog about it, you'll find it here: PowerBottom Zoro (on Tumblr).)

[yurozo]

slow dancing in a burning room (leon kennedy one-shot)

synopsis: leon's new to this, new to relationships, new to expecting someone at home waiting for him. after a mission, he's determined to have a moment of peace with you. (general audiences)

a/n: this is purely self-indulgent. i just want to wrap leon in a big blanket and give him a smooch on the head.

in retrospect, a normal life for him was always out of the question. the moment he decided to drown in his own sorrows the night before the incident, as he's so aptly named it, that was it. there was no more backing out for him-- forced to live and relive the same routine over and over until his heart rattled in his chest. every moment in the firefight blurs at the edges, stretched and stringed together in a half-hearted attempt at putting himself back together again, but repairing things was never his forte. not his modus operandi, as it were.

in this war, there's no better way to reconcile than a couple quick swigs until his throat burned.

all this considered, it made the fact that it only took you two years to make leon back into a mostly functioning human being all the more impressive. you had come into his life like a tidal wave—  sweeping him up in your storm and laying him gently on the shore, fixed-up and patched together.

again, mostly.

after three days of trucking through another monster-infested city, leon stepped into the threshold of your shared home with what felt like a death rattle in his chest. he showered after the helicopter ride, had all of his mission gear tucked away at dso headquarters, and for all intents and purposes should feel normal again. but it's only after seeing you, sipping on a glass of water in the dim light of the kitchen that makes the ache in his heart finally quell.

a slow thump this time, rather than a crackling, wet noise.

"can't sleep?" leon chooses to break the silence first, leaning his hip against the opposite counter. you jolt a little, leon always had the quietest walk known to man, but shake your head in response anyway. of course, leaving the not until you're home again left unsaid. he knew you worried. you knew that he knew you worried. it was written in your blood, just as protecting was in his.

"everything went okay?" you ask, turning around to appraise him. that was your routine every time he came home, inspect leon like a bug under a microscope and ever so carefully stitch the parts back on. he looks clean, and save for a few noticeable scrapes and overgrown stubble, he's in considerably better shape than he normally is.

he hums affirmatively in response. "better than most."

"we should sleep." you try and tug him towards the bedroom but he quickly stops you, instead wrapping his arms around your waist and tucking his head into the crook of your neck.

"stay," he mumbles against your skin, lips just barely grazing it in a barely-there kiss. "just for a bit."

a soft sigh leaves you, chest heaving against his. in lieu of an answer, you wrap your arms around his neck, fingers curling in the hair long overdue for a trim.

it's then that leon has an, admittedly, stupid idea. one that sowed when he was forced to watch some terrible romance movie with you, and only blossomed the longer that he was away. his arm moves awkwardly between you until his fingers fumble for the phone in his back pocket, holding it between you as he scrolls for something with a sly grin only reserved for you.

a song you don't recognize starts playing, and leon places the phone on the kitchen counter with a questioning glance in your direction.

you respond in turn with a raised brow. "i didn't know you danced."

"i don't," he chuckles, pointedly not saying that he might only be willing to do it for you. in truth, he's willing to indulge in a very long list of stupid things to make you happy.

he hesitates for a moment before the tips of his fingers gently graze your hips, tugging you forwards. in a somewhat reluctant, but no less sincere way, he continues, "but i've been known to make exceptions."

you step forward at his insistence, letting leon tug you by the hip. a soft smile can't be helped at the knock of his temple against yours. "you're not going to step on my toes, are you?"

"don't get too excited," he grumbles, hands already clutching at your waist while trying to still keep a respectable distance from your body. he's tired enough as it is, and he's not trying to start something later than he can't finish, as tempting as it may be. with his guidance you both start swaying to the melody, a somewhat awkward attempt to emulate every romantic cliche. "i'm probably going to be terrible."

he is. not that you would say that to his face.

leon's stiff, uncoordinated in a way that could not be more dissimilar to graceful way he moves in combat. you've seen him fight plenty of times, seen how every attack and dodge feels like a choreographed routine, and this could not be more different than that leon. his steps are jerky, his hands keep shifting awkwardly against the flat expanse of your back, and he can't seem to hold eye contact with you for more than a few seconds in lieu of making sure his feet are moving correctly.

it's endearing, in an adorable, hopelessly shy sort of way. so completely out of his element, and he knows it.

the longer the dance goes on, the more apparent it becomes just how aware leon is of himself. despite your best efforts at trying to guide him along the kitchen floor, leon almost seems to be self-sabotaging. every time you make a move to ease the tension in his shoulders with a gentle push on his chest or a soft caress with your thumb, his feet stumble into yours.

"relax," you tell him, only succeeds in giving him the inexplicable urge to throw himself out the nearest window.

"i am relaxed," he lies through his teeth.

"stop thinking, then." you try again, squeezing his shoulder comfortingly.

"i can't."

you've known leon too long to miss what that means. almost every time he gets back from a mission, it's like getting the empty husk of your boyfriend haunting the corridors until he can get himself back to routine. at its worst, it takes a few meals and gentle caresses for him to even look at you in the eyes. like a dog with its ears flat and a ripped up shoe in its mouth.

"as romantic as this is," you smile, trailing your hand up his neck until it lands at home on his cheek. the gesture is sweet, truly. but leon already looks like he's falling apart, and this time it's time for you to protect. "maybe we really should get some sleep."

the song comes to an end then, the last final notes trickling through the air before surrendering to a complete, all-encompassing silence. leon only gives you a slow nod, before following your figure to the bedroom. easy, quiet as a lamb.

finally, there's no more burning. all that's left is the quiet.

[weskie]

O Captain, My Captain! (Albert Wesker x gn!Reader)

18+ | 2100 words, dubcon, gunpoint blow job, sex fantasies, gender neutral reader, wesker being a little shit but somehow still a lil soft | Fic Directory

original request

You always were his favorite.  So smart and perceptive, sharp and witty.  Of course you would be the one to find him first.  It almost pained him to devastate you in such a way.  To see the way your face fell when those words left his mouth.

“I’ve always been with Umbrella.”

The way you whispered his title in disbelief when he pointed his gun at you was… perplexing.  He figured you’d have one of your usual wise-cracks to chuck at him.  Instead you–

“I trusted you, I–” You quiver, staring down the barrel that could spell your undoing in a mere flash. Your eyes dart back and forth between him and the tank containing the Tyrant.  “Please don’t kill me…” 

Beautiful, isn’t it?  Wesker thinks to himself.  He wonders what you must think of his good work.  What you must think of everything.  

Deep down, he doesn’t want to do this. In fact, it had been his plan to grab you before death could take you in some twisted form or another.  You were the only one he wasn’t keen to place in this experiment.  He fully intended to run off with you in his arms, play the hero, whisk you away to safety and maybe finally allow some of his affections free to make an attempt at something more.  You weren’t supposed to find him.

You’ve certainly dashed his plans.  So what now?  

“I’ll do anything!”

Of that, he’s certain.  Most people staring down the barrel of a gun would say the same.  Perhaps…

Now that’s a thought.

“Anything?”  He asks with a cock of his head.  “And just what could you do for me, my dear?”  The corner of his mouth twitches in a small smirk as the term of endearment hits you.  He saunters forward, handgun still trained on you.  Little do you know he’d clicked the safety on before raising it toward you to begin with.

It’s precious how you shiver under his gaze.  Like you know exactly what he’s thinking, or you’re at least partly aware of it.  

This situation has obviously ruined his plans to pursue you once the dust had settled.  Perhaps he should take what he can get now while he’s got the opportunity.  Sure there’s terror in your eyes, but he’s seen the way you looked at him before.  The glint in your gaze, the pining glances and shy smiles.  Wesker was no fool.

But he is an opportunist.

“I don’t kno–”

“Oh, but I think you do.” He purrs, pressing the muzzle under your chin to force you to look right into his eyes.  He glides his thumb across your lower lip, tongue peaking out to wet his own.  “Ah, ah… Don’t squirm.  You wouldn’t want my finger to slip, would you?”  It isn’t even on the trigger.  He smiles sweetly as you take a breath to still yourself.  “That’s it, sweetheart.  Very good.”

You’re adorable like this.  Eyes wide, lower lip quivering beneath the pad of his thumb.  Wesker leans forward until his lips are next to your ear.

“I want you on your knees, my dear.  Think of it like a new training exercise– just you and me.”  His breaths fan against the shell of your ear, words shocking your eyes even wider.  He can hear you gulp in anticipation before you start to descend.  “Show your Captain what you can do, hm?” The sight alone has him twitching in his pants.  He’d never admit to the overflowing excitement in watching you kneel before him, knowing full well he was about to have you in a way he’s only dreamt of.  God, the thoughts he’s had of you– the way he’s come apart at mere fantasies all because of you…

His breath stutters as you work him free from his pants, halting entirely when you grasp his cock and stroke.  He can feel the tremble in your grip, so he smooths his free hand through your hair to coax you to relax.  He nudges you forward gently. 

He knows you can’t see his eyes behind the lenses of his glasses, but he almost wishes you could.  If you could only see the exhilaration in his eyes coupled with the lack of genuine hostility, maybe you wouldn’t be so afraid of the gun in his right hand.  Maybe you’d know it was all for show to keep you from getting any bright ideas.  And fuck, he could’ve dropped the damned thing the second your tongue grazed the underside of his tip.  It’s been so long since he’s been touched by another; he never has the time to even consider it with his double-triple-agent life. It’s almost embarrassing how sensitive he is to the warm wetness of your tongue.

But he needs more.

His fingers curl in your hair to pull you nearer– his signal for you to open wide and take him. He releases a shuddering breath when your lips wrap around him, descending nice and slow.  The sensation of you sucking him is simply beyond words, completely and utterly tantalizing in the way it combines with the hot drag of your tongue.

A soft moan works past his lips when that pesky gag reflex of yours makes your throat clamp deliciously around him.  He doesn’t let you pull off.  He can’t drop the facade quite yet– can’t be too gentle lest you get any stupid ideas.

“Ah, ah… Hold it.”  He breathes, fingers gripping tighter in your hair, pushing your head down.  “That’s it, dear…”  For all of your sputtering below, you manage to resist the need to release him by the time he finally jerks you back.  

He gives you a minute to gasp desperately before pressing the gun to your temple. Your eyes flutter open as if you'd forgotten the lingering threat.  Your pupils are blown and the way you squirm is all too obvious.

He knew you'd like this. 

Somewhere, deep past that layer of fear, there was a part of you so aroused by this that you couldn’t help but let it affect you.  Maybe, with his cock down your throat, you realized that this was what you’d always wanted too.  That all those sweet little looks you’d hide when he’d turn your way weren’t for nothing.  That your lust for your Captain was coming to fruition in an unorthodox way that was still just as delicious as whatever sinful thoughts you’ve kept of him all this time.

“I'm impressed. But you can do better for me, can’t you?”  Wesker’s eyes roll when you dive back in of your own accord, suckling and swirling the tip in a way that screams more than mere survival instinct.  It takes no time at all for him to give in and start with slow thrusts into your mouth.  Paired with the way he controls the bobbing of your head makes it truly like heaven itself.  Wesker could damn well forget everything– where he was, all that had happened, even the Tyrant mere feet away meant nothing right now.  Your little gags and chokes around his shaft ring like music to his ears, drowning out the hum of machinery preserving his subject, echoing in his mind to wash away every scream he’s heard since this mission began.

There’s just this.

Just you and him.

“That’s– mmh, that’s it!”  Wesker’s breaths grow heavier by the second and he presses the muzzle harder to your temple, wordlessly demanding that you keep up with those wicked glides of your tongue, keep swallowing his cock, keep fucking taking him.

His mask begins to slip with every weakening moan that was never meant to make it past his lips until finally– fucking finally– he holsters that damned gun and grips your head with his other hand, hips rolling until that familiar tightening sensation grows and grows and your name chokes breathlessly from his lips.  With one last sharp thrust, Wesker buries himself to the base, hands pulling your face flush to his groin as he paints your throat with his release.  His thighs quake and he can just barely register your hands grasping to still him.

He tries so hard to be quiet and maintain that perfect decorum of his, but it’s useless to try.  Not when he’s balls deep in your mouth, not when he knows he’s claimed you from the inside out.  He’s thought of this too many times.  Of how he’d have loved to have you on your knees under his desk back in his office.  You’d suck him just as sweetly as you’ve done now, one hand stroking the base of his cock while the other smooths up and down his leg.  He’d let you get him close– so fucking close. He’d let you get him right on the brink of losing himself and then kick away in his swivel chair and fuck you senseless on the desk.  He wouldn’t even care if the rest of the team could hear the sweet sounds you sing for him.  He’d fill you over and over again until his come leaks from you.  He’d kneel down and eat you clean just so he could fill you all over again.

Every fantasy flashes in his mind as the throbbing bliss tapers away.  This absolutely cannot be the last time he has you.  

It won’t be.

Wesker pulls out slowly, staring down intently to watch every inch slip free.  His thumbs wipe away at your tear tracks before kneeling to your level.

“That wasn’t so bad, was it?”  He asks as if he hadn’t just put you in an impossible situation and made you think your only way out was to let him fuck your mouth.  He smiles at you, though, try as he might, he can’t quite manage that same wicked smirk he’d given you earlier.  The facade has faded, and he’s back to the same old Captain Wesker who used to hide his smiles at your quips.  The same one who now feels the tiniest pang of guilt at how spooked and used you look.

There's one last thing he needs from this moment. He couldn't possibly let it pass him by knowing he may never have the chance again. And, if he's lucky, you'll understand every unspoken word. 

Wesker leans forward, hands cupping your face to bring you into a kiss that was far from the depravity he'd shown you mere moments ago. Your squeak of shock is swallowed by him, and it's the perfect opportunity to wiggle his tongue into your mouth and explore to his heart's content– pleased to no end when you reciprocate.

“You've always been,” he pants between wet pecks to your lips, “my favorite of the bunch.”  One of your arms loops around his neck, and that’s when it hits him.

Cold steel presses beneath his jaw and he smiles against you, proud beyond measure that you'd pulled one over on him so easily. 

“Still trust me?”  He asks.

“Should I?”  You counter, panting softly against him.  He can see the way doubt blends with belief.  You’re the picture perfect specimen of indecision and he would just love to see your reaction to this…

“Go on.  Pull.”  Wesker murmurs. “Trust your Captain.”

When you make not even so much as a twitch to flinch from what you’d expect to be an exceptionally loud mess, he grasps your hand, finger creeping over yours to direct it onto the trigger.

How peculiar that, much like he’d done, you hadn’t even put it on there.

You look at him with wide eyes for the hundredth time since you found him, suddenly looking much more terrified than when he’d first aimed it at you.

“Wesker, I–”

Click.

You flinch for nothing, and Wesker simply gives you a smug grin as he watches you realize you were never truly in danger.  You run through a variety of emotions.  Anger, betrayal, disbelief, acceptance… 

“What's wrong, my dear?”  Wesker purrs, taking your chin between his thumb and forefinger.  “You didn’t think I’d actually kill you, did you?”

The look on your face elicits a deep, amused chuckle. 

“Foolish.  I suppose you’ll need to be made to understand just how deep my appreciation for you goes, hm?”  With his free hand, he removes his gun from your grasp before pushing you slowly onto your back.  Your chest heaves in anticipation, though you lack that deer-in-the-headlights look from earlier.

Good.

Wesker removes his glasses, placing them on your head to rest against your hair.

“Remember,” he whispers, leaning down to nibble at the side of your neck. “Trust your Captain.”

[nekrosdolly]

gentle (18+)

hello! i was kind of stumbling through this so im worried it might not be good! like always, criticism is welcome ˙✧˖°📷 ༘ ⋆｡˚

cw; dubcon due to non-verbal consent, re1 wesker, marriage/long term relationship implied, domestic fluff, tooth-rotting fluff not gonna lie, afab reader, soft dom wesker, clitoral stimulation, he's obsessed with you, praise (reader receiving), temperature difference cus he's a human icicle, creampie (x1), a bit of a breeding kink, very lovey and soft wesker

petnames (reader received); dearest, my dove, darling, dearheart, little dove, good girl, sweet thing, greedy girl

albert's gentle with you because he still has his humanity intact. sure, he's not completely sane either, but he doesn't want to drive you away. without uroboros or even the prototype virus, he's strong, and intimidating. his military training has hardened him, and he's tired of being stern and strict at both jobs.

to initiate, he'll typically come to you while you're both winding down for the night. maybe you're patting your face dry after washing it and he comes in the bathroom to hold you from behind. you set the towel aside and acknowledge his presence with a simple "hello, my love," and a small smile. your hands come up to

"hi, dearest," he murmurs, his hand coasting along your abdomen and up to settle on your sternum, pressing you back against his chest so you're flush.

"you're gorgeous," he says between kisses down your neck, his voice a little lower. despite his cold hands, he never fails to make you feel warm in your gut, the subtle purr of arousal making your blood flow south. you're blushing something fierce, making eye contact with him through the mirror. he does tower over you some. you can feel his erection against the small of your back, your own arousal heightening. the hand on his sternum moves to cup your breast, thumbing over your nipple so he can watch how your breathing changes, how your heart beats faster and your face flushes red.

he's so in love with you it almost hurts. he loves the way you press your ass back against him, grinding as an attempt to soothe the ache in your cunt. the ache that only he could ever cause, no less, in the few years you've been together. his other hand finds its way into your underwear, fingers cold but deft as he dips them between your wettened folds to gather the sticky fluid and circle your pulsing clit. you become putty in his arms, your hands practically useless at your sides. your knees turn to jelly, little whines of satisfaction leaving you.

"so, so gorgeous." he croons, the hand cupping your breast simply kneading as he rubs your clit with two cold fingers. he's a sucker for praising you, truthfully, and he loves the way you become red in the face. your face is hot, his dull blue eyes boring holes in your own. it's as though the eye contact makes him more excited, even if the look in his eyes is bone-chilling. his breath is warm against your neck, words of praise and love leaving his pale lips. he presses down a bit more firmly on your clit, his fingers moving quicker to bring you closer to your release. your moans grow louder, your legs threatening to crumble beneath you.

when you do cum, he talks you through it. your hands scramble to grab the edge of the bathroom countertop, your knees buckling under you from the force of your orgasm. your vision is starry at the peak

"i'm here, my dove. lean on me, darling. that's it. you did so well for me, didn't you? yes, you did. my wonderful girl." he murmurs, retracting his hand from your underwear as he peppers kisses to your cheek as you recover. he licks his fingers clean of your cum and strokes your hair with his clean hand, waiting for you to be able to stand again. when you're steady again you tap his arm and he lets you go.

he washes his hands and starts his own nightly routine. you perch yourself on the bathroom countertop and watch him, your head and heart muddled with love and a bit of residual pleasure. every now and then his eyes wander over to you, the subtlest of smiles tugging at the corners of his mouth. you'll run a hand through his hair as he rubs his moisturizer in (he takes care of his skin you can't tell me otherwise), your nails gently scratching the base of his head.

"your hair is getting long." you murmur, playing with the whispy ends.

"too long, dear?" suddenly, he's a bit self-conscious. what if his hair is too long and you decide you hate it? maybe you'll decide that one day, you don't like him anymore. maybe you already have? nervous and trying to hide it, his gaze returns to his own face.

"no, not too long. you could definitely pull off longer hair if you wanted to give it a try." you let your hand drop into your lap and he nods, feeling conflicted and honestly very silly. regardless, he leans over and pecks your lips. his timidity is rare, exceedingly so for a man like him, and it only ever pops up around you. like you're the only one who can get in his head, make him squirm. he may not admit it, but you are.

"good to know. thank you, darling." he takes your hand and helps you off of the bathroom counter, that same hand slipping to the small of your back as the two of you walk to bed. you have other plans.

you make that apparent when you sit at the edge of your king-sized mattress, black sheets crinkling slightly, and look up at him. it's clear that you want something. he raises an eyebrow at you.

"what's this, dear?" he cups your jaw with one hand and strokes your hair with the other. icy eyes roam your own for an answer, but to no avail.

"you didn't get yours earlier." you push his hands away and for a moment he looks offended. his expression falters when you grab his hips and kiss his lower abdomen, just above the waistband of his boxers. he sputters, taking a step back when you reach for his boxers, his hands raising in what seems like defense..

"darling, that's not necessary." he insists, but the way you're looking at him makes his blood roar in his ears, his heart thump faster in his chest. you grab his hands instead and pull him close again. you move back on the bed and pull him with you, gentle like you're guiding him.

hesitant, he crawls on top of you.

"are you sure?" he asks, eyes roaming over you in your cute your hands cup his cheeks, your gaze warm as it roams his face. his cheeks are tinted pink, one of his hands runs over your stomach and along your waist. he hooks his thumb under your silk sleep shirt and slowly pulls it up past your chest. he glances up at you, then at your tits as he cups them. he tweaks one nipple as he ducks his head down to lap and suckle at the other.

your whines, spilling from you so easily, are his favorite noise to draw from you. a dull throb in your clit draws your attention, the familiar ache in your pussy returning with a vengeance and you attempt to clench your thighs together in hopes to mute it. you'd like to hurry, but albert hates being rushed. you know that more than anyone, that he'll take his time with you like you were a painting and absorb every detail.

you tug on his hair, adamant and desperate to get him inside of you to soothe the ache that's only worsening the longer you're without something to fill you. he pulls back upon your request

"al, darling, please." he kisses you in the gentle way he always does, the hand on your waist cupping your cheek. when he breaks away, he looks conflicted. he does want to make you happy- that's all he ever wants to do for you- but he's tempted to drag this out for as long as possible.

"alright, dear. in a moment, just be patient. i know you can." he pecks your lips again, quick and sweet and undeniably hungry. his cock is painfully hard in the thin confines of his boxers, aching to be inside you the way you need him to be.

"lift your hips, little dove." he's met with obedience and he works your pajama bottoms off, a hungry smile on his lips the moment he sees the wet spot on the gusset of your panties. his cock twitches at the sight, aches to feel those walls clench and flutter around him. he slides your panties down to your ankles, then pulls his boxers off. he hooks your legs around his waist, pulling you flush with him

"honey," you whine softly as he leans down to kiss you, simultaneously teasing your slickened cunt with the tip of his cock, a soft grunt escaping him. slowly, he presses the tip in your tight, warm entrance. you whine against his lips as he moans against yours, your weeping pussy sucking him in so nicely.

"so perfect. your cunt was made for me." he murmurs when he breaks the kiss, fully hilted inside you. with how big he is, his cock kisses the tip of your cervix and stretches you out thoroughly. you flutter around him at the praise, even more when he starts thrusting with a gentle desperation only you draw out of him. your head spins, feeling so full and yet craving more at the same time.

the heat on your cheeks matches his own. he's always been such a blushy mess when it comes to missionary, but can you blame him? the expression you make with your eyes half-lidded, lips parted in pleasure, your brows furrowed. his hands find your waist, his cold fingers gripping you tight. the velvet walls of your cunt do things to his head, makes all reasoning go out the window as he pumps his cock into you faster and faster, sacrificing all need to be gentle. though surprised at this, you love it. a similar fog fills your head and your hands move to his back, your nails digging into his skin hard when he wraps an arm around your waist, angling your hips differently.

"that's it, take it all like the good girl you are." he croons, his eyes locked on your face as he angles his hips to brush his cock against that spongy spot amongst velvet walls. you visbly light up with pleasure when he does, your nails breaking the skin of his back by mistake. you know he's only going slow to drag this out, but with the way he's bullying your cunt, you don't know how long you're going to last. each thrust fogs your mind more until you're a moaning, whimpering mess for him. you tighten around him, trying to take more despite him being balls deep already.

"such a greedy girl, my sweet thing… you're going to cum, aren't you?" you nod meekly, biting your bottom lip harder when he thumbs your clit, nearly drawing blood.

"words, dearest. use your words for me." he slows his thumb down to gentle strokes, his cold skin against yours making you hypervigilant of his touch.

"m'gonna cum- i-is that okay? can i?" you struggle to get your words out, interrupted by small gasps of your own as he pistons his cock into the spongy bundle of nerves within you.

he's smiling to himself, enjoying how eager and sweet you are, despite the circumstances. he's close himself, only disguising it until you get yours.

"go on, sweet girl, cum for me." he circles your clit faster once more, causing you to fall apart at the seams. your orgasm is intense, your hips spasming in the desperate chase for more of the white-hot ecstasy running through your blood. you feel hot at your peak, a cry of his name leaving your irritated and puffy lips, before you relax with the comedown. being the good lover he is, he coaxes you through it with soft words and gentle touches.

"that's it, pretty girl. my perfect girl. i love you."

"i love you too." you manage to say despite your hazy state, a weak smile on your pretty lips.

he wraps your legs around his waist as he cages you in with his arms on either side of your head, kissing you slowly so you're not overwhelmed. you're a mess of nothing but your own slick, his cock buried deep inside you. the lower half of his abdomen is drenched with your cum, dripping down his pelvis and thighs. your legs are unsteady and wobbly, shaking in their place.

"al," you break the kiss. the restraint he's showing is visible on his face, especially in the way he's furrowing his eyebrows, "keep going if you need to. i can take it, i promise." he nods, though worried about hurting you somehow. he likes this position much more- he's already close as is, and all he can think about is filling your womb with his kids.

he doesn't speak as he starts thrusting into you again, quick and precise yet surprisingly harsh movements into your overly sensitive cunt. and yet you're still so wet for him, your cunt weeping for more. you can hardly think, let alone tell him how good you feel.

he kisses you hard, his cum filling you up so nicely, you'll be thinking about it for days. he groans against your lips, licking into your mouth. the familiar taste of tobacco from his tongue, his seed inside you, the remnants of his colonge flooding your senses, all overwhelming you. your heart flutters. he breaks the kiss, pressing his forehead against yours as he recovers.

"are you okay, dearheart?" he brings a hand up to fix your shirt and kisses the corners of your lips. tired, yet content, you nod softly and kiss him again. he hums quietly and cups your cheek, his mind still a touch fuzzy. the blush from his cheeks has yet to fade, and likely won't for another hour.

one hand on your waist squeezes you and he pulls back from the kiss to pull out of you, then get off the bed. he grabs you a fresh pair of underwear and pajama pants for himself. he steps into the pants while you sit up and take the underwear from him to put on.

"you know i love you, right?" you say as the two of you lie down, his strong hands pulling you flush against his chest with your back facing him.

"i know, dove. i love you just as much." he wraps an arm around your waist, getting comfortable as the big spoon. tired, he lets his eyes flutter shut. you pull the sheets up and over the two of you, hiking them up to your waist, then follow suit in closing your eyes,

[plotsignificanthaircut555]

MDNI 18+ only.

Kishibe comes to you...

Knocking on your door, far too loud for how late it is. When you answer the door, sighing in mild frustration, it subsides as you meet his hazed, drunken black eyes. the flask tips the final drips of its contents onto your doormat, leaving dark speckles of dark amber. He slurs (purrs) out a half formed greeting, pushing past you, into the familiar warmth of your apartment. you shut and lock the door, hearing rustling of clothing and jingling of his belt already in your bedroom. You don't even entertain the thought of making him leave, the fatigue in your body of interrupted sleep sheds as you pad your way to join him.

"It’s late." you warn.

He’s shed himself of his shirt already, belt and coat scattered haphazardly at his feet. His sunken, bag circled eyes look you over silently. the instruction is clear. You shed yourself of your own t shirt, the one you slipped on your bare, freshly showered body nearly three hours ago, when you had gone to bed. You don't miss the way he admires your form, wet lips parted, head cocking. He approaches you slowly, if you didn't know any better you would almost say gently. At 194cm he is a full head and shoulders above you, having to lean down in order to look you in the eye. His large, rough hands cup the sides of your face, the edge of his pinky reaching down past your jaw and his thumb brushing against your lips. Your chest feels tight looking at him, your breath stalls as he inches closer. Every cell of your body is electrified.

“Tell me you want me.” The words leave kishsibe’s mouth, hot against your own, mere centimeters apart.

“I want you.”

He meets your mouth in a soft, brief kiss; “say it again.”

“I want you, Kishibe, please.” You pant against him, feeling your hardening nipples brush against his bare torso.

He kisses you again, harder, deeper. Boozy tongue meeting yours, hands gripping you tighter, pulling you closer. You kiss him back with the same vigor and passion, tasting every drink he had to bring him to your doorstep. He pulls you in by your waist, sitting on the edge of your bed with you on his lap.

“Please, kishi, I want you. Please.”, you begged between haughty, wet kisses.

Kishibe slides a hand up your exposed thigh, moving to grip the meat of your ass. A small grunt leaves him as he fondles the ample flesh. HIs nails are thin and uneven, he's been picking at them again, they sting as he grips you tighter. Your own hands cycle between his tugging at his sandy hair, gripping lightly at his neck, and moving down his shoulder to paw at his tight, muscled arms. He urges you to slide forward, grinding your panty clad pussy right across the bulge of his cock against his suit pants. You tremble against him as he grinds your hips for you, taking complete control of your body, you know you could never over power him. And you don’t want to, you’ve never wanted to.

Kishibe moves a hand up your back to grip the back of your neck hard, “you need me.”

You let out a breathy gasp, nodding, “I-i need you. Kishibe I need you, please.”

He licks a stripe up your neck, from collarbone to chin. You feel one of his fingers slip past the gusset of your panties, dipping into your wetness. you hiss at the sensation, feeling both holes clench at his prodding. But you cant help but lean further into him, pathetically keening against his chest. He shushes you like one would to a dog, clipped and patronizing. You dig your teeth into your lower lip, face scrunching in response to his finger circling the rim of your ass. He coats your hole in your own slick, delighting in how you squirm in his lap, trying your very best to be quiet, fruitlessly. He can still hear your pitiful whines as you press your face into his shoulder. The erection under you has grown harder than you thought possible, he loves embarrassing you. You know it. Making you feel dirty and weak gets him off.

"Take out my cock." he commands, and you obey.

You reach between your bodies, quick to unbutton his pants and begin tugging at the waistband of his underwear. you can't quite pull him out, the two of your are too close.

"go on." he urges, finger still at your asshole.

you shift your hips slightly, pushing yourself into his finger, it penetrating you briefly as you shift to allow his cock to spring free. it stings, you hiss, your chest heats in embarrassment, his own chest warms in silent delight. Without further instruction you sit on his lap once again, his shaft pressed right against your electrified clitrois. This again causes you to whimper, but it makes the discomfort from the first knuckle of his finger in your ass soften, almost becoming pleasurable. you flutter your lashes up at Kishibe, who you find is watching you intently, the sight of your big watery eyes bringing, what could be considered, a smile to his scarred lips.

"Open."

You obey, dropping your jaw open, your tongue following. ready to accept the spit he drops onto your tongue. Your pussy dampens further, coating the base of his cock in your slick.

"Hold it." he instructs, watching you savor the taste of him on your tongue, "now down."

You look down to where you are joined, shifting back slightly to give you more access to the shaft of his cock, you release the now combined spit from your mouth watching it land on his lap. You admire the scene before for a moment, the sheen of saliva and liquid arousal along his cock. Before sliding forward once more to spread the blend of your and his bodily fluids all along his cock, further lubricating your weeping pussy.

"Now take it." His final directive before you snap completely, sitting on his cock quickly, whining breathlessly as he fills you completely.

You were sure he had intended, and likely expected, you to go much slower because his chest lurches forward, pulling your hips even closer to him. Your recklessly swift insertion pushed the finger at your ass further inside. It was hard to tell exactly how far you had taken him, but you prayed it was close to halfway. You couldn’t help yourself, brain was boiling itself until only your most carnal desires could form. You bounce on kishibe's cock, barely keeping your moans at bay behind your raw, bitten lips. His head rolls back in ecstasy as you fuck yourself in his lap, riding him faster than your previously sleeping self could have ever dreamed about.

This is what he did, he trained you so well, he knew you so well. He knew exactly what to do to turn you into a whimpering, piteous mess on top of him ready to fuck the both of you into oblivion again and again until he was done. And he was more than happy to sit back and reap the benefits of what he had sewn so carefully in you.

"that's it, girl." he praised, pushing the middle knuckle of his finger past your tight ass, making you rock forward, grinding your clit against the patch of public hair at the base of his pelvis.

you hadn't ever felt this full, this complete. it stung and was uncomfortable until you could feel where his finger and cock were just barely separated but some internal wall that made you simper every time he pressed against it. you rode him in this pseudo grinding--pseudo circle motion, kishibe choosing when the curl his finger so evilly.

"please kishi, please." you breathed out in broken little huffs.

"please what?" he slid his free hand up to your waist.

you ground down on his lap harder, your clit aching, pulsing. the growing pleasure inside of you starting to reach its apex.

your answer came out as a whine, "Kiss me, please. please kishibe, kiss--"

Kishibe pulls you in by your neck, kissing you hard, clashing teeth, his fat tongue invading your mouth immediately. You nearly bite it off when you moan, your pleasure is no longer growing but bursting within you. Your pussy clenches around him, pulsing, begging, pleading to milk him of every ounce of cum he can produce. He feels you trembling against him, pleasure jolting your body against him again and again. He kisses you through it, not letting you get out of this so easily. Even when you stall your hips, he pushes himself deeper and deeper until you finally cry out. free from his kiss you let out a long high cry, your mind barely restructuring when he thrusts up from underneath you. its too much, you're too full, too sensitive, too weak. But none of that matters, he loops his arm around your waist, pinning you flush against his chest as he fucks into you at his own pace. You can no longer control the sounds that you were once so desperate to keep quiet. He uses you completely for his own pleasure, taking no interest in your squawking of pleasure or pain. It’s no business of his how you feel in this moment, he was finally getting exactly what he came here for. You barely register the removal of his finger from your ass, but you do feel the way he lifts you up higher now that he can hold you with both hands, fucking into you deeper somehow. Hot tears roll down your cheeks, even down your neck. Kishibe feels his balls tighten, the base of his cock jerk outside of his control.

You barely register his command, were it not for your knowledge of his routine from previous encounters you likely would have missed it completely.

"Say it."

"Kishibe, I love you." you huff out, your sweaty forehead against his jaw, your lips curling into a smile against the stubble on his neck.

He drains himself completely, a single drawn out groan leaving him, those serrated nails digging into your sides as he pumps into you. You can feel his dick pulsating inside of your, lining your walls with his cum. You pant into his skin, feeling him still but not release his hold on you. when he finally moves, he brings you with him, sitting up straighter, still encased in your messy, puffy pussy. He allows you to pull off of his chest to look at him. His face hasn't yet returned to the stoicism he was known for, a faint blush has settled over his cheeks, his eyes are still blown out and just barley lidded. His mouth is wet, his lips are swollen and pinker than usual. He looks...not vulnerable, but the closest you had ever seen him. He admires you in turn for a moment; taking in your fucked out expression, your heaving body in his arms, your shaking thighs around his legs. You looked beautiful in the soft lamp lighting of your bedroom, moonlight seeping in through the windows highlight the wetness of your cheeks, either from the traces of his saliva or your tears. Either way when he met your eyes again he found he couldn’t look to deeply.

You saw the switch in him, the cold gaze return to his face, he had lowered the veil between the two of you once more. The intimacy, the closeness, the idea of love evaporated. He smacked your butt lightly, an indicator for you to dismount. The ache of emptiness took the place of the euphoria of fullness you hadn’t relished in quite long enough. He refastened his pants, seeming to not care about the fast drying stain that marred the front fabric. You watch as he stands and begins to dress himself again. You fight the ember of loneliness from raging into a steady burn. You don’t bother to cover yourself, sticky panties still pulled to the side, you instead watch him disconnect further and further. Every article he donned signified another layer of distance.

It wasn’t until he pulled his coat over his shoulder that he gave you his eyes again. They were dark, but not yet completely unattached. Kishibe leaned over you seat on the bed, tipping your head back, where he kissed you. No prodding, hot tongue fighting yours for space inside, not clashing lips and bruising bites. A single, long, deep kiss, that gave no indication of anything further.

Except maybe gratitude?

He stood as soon as your lips were parted, digging in his coat pocket for a cigarette. He finds his pack and pulled one free, thought for a moment, and then another, which he handed to you. You accepted, fingertips brushing his as he handed it off.

“I’ll be around.” It was his form of reassurance you guessed, “things are…building. It’d be smart to lay low, keep to yourself.”

You nodded.

“Good girl,” he turns his back to you and heads for the front door, “goodnight. Lock up behind me.”

“Goodnight.” You líe back against the bed, looking up at the ceiling as you hear the door open, “I hope you don’t die out there.”

The door clicks shut behind him.

Okay, we've got a cheeky little drabble for ya. I hope my six (6) Kishibe fuckers and i can really get into this one. You guys know the pleasure i take in making the big bad old man pathetic. I hope you will too! Love as always <3 — Doodle

A03

[byexbyez]

Love Me More Series Masterlist

pairing: leon kennedy x f!reader

summary: A marriage built upon convenience, marked by unspoken tensions and subtle moments of connection, where silence fills the spaces more than conversation. Every little touch seems to blur the invisible lines, and the question remains: how much can be said without words and what happens when you finally find the courage to speak?

A story of two lonely people learning to live together.

series word count: 29.5K

tags: angst, smut, marriage of convenience, strangers to spouses, grief/mourning, depictions of depression and anxiety, touch-starved leon (kinda), a bit of fluff, non-linear timeline, mentions of canon-typical violence, alcohol and cigarette consumption, p in v, minor original character, minor character death, jealous leon, pet names, unprotected p in v smut, no use of y/n

PART I : love me more

PART II : fomalhaut

PART III : lovers of valdaro (finale)

⤷ teaser

or read on AO3.

[refiwrites]

this

is HIS song

[heavenlyraindrops]

♱Father Forgive Me (For I have Sinned) ~Chapter Eighteen♱

Lucifer Morningstar x Angel!Reader Fandom: Hazbin Hotel Chapter Eighteen Warnings: profanity Visit the first tag on this post to see all other chapters.

♱ In which the purest soul in Heaven falls from grace… for the Devil. ♱

[Chapter Eighteen]

a/n: holy shit 2k words long? This is worth two whole chapters yall ig that’s how yk shits about to go down

Your feet hit the ground, the darkness of the alleyway shrouding with you with the shadows as you retracted your wings into your back, making them disappear. Peeking your head round the corner, you tentatively stepped out.

You prayed you wouldn’t be too noticeable- surely you couldn’t draw too much attention if you just acted natural. Weaving through the people on the streets, you made your way through the town.

You’d seen it from overhead, strangely one of the only places that seemed more welcoming than the rest of the areas in Hell. Your wings had been aching after spending so long flying that you’d given in and let yourself down.

You tried to not make eye contact with anyone, but accidentally glanced at a couple of people’s faces, noticing the strange lack of eyes, instead pairs of black holes replacing them in people’s faces. Gulping, you kept your gaze glued back to the ground. 

You saw your silhouette flash in the corner of your vision through a shop window, and involuntarily froze, stepping closer to the grass. You looked different.

More demonic.

You tried to swallow the lump growing in your throat as you took in your new appearance, bile rising in your throat before quickly turning away and briskly moving on. 

“Ow!” 

You stumbled back, unable to stop a small curse escaping your lips. A woman stared at you, her knuckles turned white at clutching her umbrella as she tipped her hat back to get a proper look at you, empty black eyes roving up and down your body.

So much for not drawing any attention.

Gulping again, and you tried to squeak out a small “Sorry!” Before trying to hurry around her, but she stopped you, a hand on your arm pulling you back. 

“Are you alright, dear?” She asked, face soft with concern. You blinked. “Your face’s all cut up.”

“Is it? Oh.” You laughed nervously. “I didn’t notice. I-I’ll be fine.” You tried to pull away but her grip tightened. You looked up at her in panic.

“I’ve seen you somewhere,” she said, and now her face had turned serious. You laughed even harder this time, the sound hysterically tumbling from you as you tried to reel the situation back under your control.

“I doubt you have, miss,” you assured her quickly, before turning away, right into someone else’s chest.

You looked up, and all you saw was red.

“Now, I’m sure I have.” She shuffled over to both you and the tall red man. You caught two small antlers poking out from his hair, and stifled a chuckle. “I’m Rosie, and this is Alastor.” She gestured over to the deer. He extended a hand, static crackling in his voice.

“Pleasure to be meeting you, dear,” he grinned. You stared at the hand, before taking it gingerly. 

“And you…” her eyes fixed onto you. “You’re the fallen angel.” 

You opened your mouth but no sound came out. Alastor’s red eyes narrowed onto you. You felt them burning, and looked away as you let out a small, tense chuckle. “Guilty.”

Rosie laughed, slapping a hand onto Alastor’s shoulder. “Oh sweetheart, don’t worry.” Her lips stretched into an even wider smile. 

“We won’t eat you,” Alastor smirked.

“Although you do look delicious.” 

You didn’t know whether to be thankful or not. “Oh. Thank you.”

Alastor’s hand found your arm, nails digging into your skin as he drew you close, linking arms. “But we would like it if you could…”

“Join us for tea!” Rosie cut in. They both shared a meaningful glance.

You looked at the sky, heart thrumming insistently. “It’s getting quite dark.”

“Perfect,” Alastor replied, voice dripping with something sinister as he and Rosie led you through the streets to outside a small café. Rosie’s hands closed around your shoulders.

“We can get you something nice to wear on the way,” she said, glancing pointedly at your torn clothes.

“Lovely,” you muttered. They both smiled.

-

“So. Tell us everything.”

Rosie and Alastor both smiled at you expectantly over the table. You stared at the steaming cups before you, then them, then back at the cups. 

“Look, I…I appreciate this.” You gestured to the table, the tea, your fresh clothes. “Whatever this even is. But I need to leave.”

Alastor once again put his hand on your arm. You stared down at it. “I suggest otherwise, dear,” he said, smile strained and sharp as his eyes flickered with embers. You slowly lowered yourself back into the chair, gulping.

“Tell us. Why exactly are you in Hell?” He knitted his fingers together, face inquisitive. Rosie took a sip of the tea.

“I’d rather not disclose that information,” you said coldly. Rosie laughed.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart, but I think you would.” She smiled sweetly.

You scowled, gripping a tighter hold on your cup. 

“Don’t frown now, honey. You know you’re never…”

“Fully dressed without a smile,” Alastor finished. He leaned closer. “Why are you in Hell?”

You didn’t say anything.

Rosie’s face softened. “Come now, honey. You know we only want to help you.” She placed her hand over yours, and it was soft, warm. Her face held sincerity. “We just want to know what happened to you.”

You sneaked a suspicious look at Alastor, one that didn’t go unnoticed.

“I apologise if I may have come off as…” he waved his hand. “Strong. Off putting.” He sighed. “Believe me, darling, if we had wanted to hurt you or take you by force we would have.” He shot you a meaningful glance. “Most sinners wouldn’t be as forgiving.”

You gulped, a powerful wave of fatigue suddenly crashing over you as the events of the past few days finally caught up to you.

“You can trust us, sweetie,” Rosie said softly.

You dragged your hands across your face. “I…Heaven kicked me out…”

“We can tell,” Alastor remarked. “Why?”

“I got in a relationship with a…” you waved your hand around vaguely. “A resident of this place.”

“Who?”

You chewed your lip, their soft words coaxing out tired and broken answers. “Lucifer.”

The both fell into shocked silence, and exchanged another glance. But you ploughed on, determined to finish now that you had started. “They found out, cause someone-“ Your throat closed up “-tipped them off, and kicked me out.” You rose, spreading your palms across the table. “I need to find Lucifer and Charlie. Lucifer-“ you choked up. “He’ll help me. I know he will.”

“Is your name [name], by any chance?” Rosie raised an eyebrow. You looked at her and Alastor.

“Yes.” Your eyes narrowed.

“Charlie mentioned you,” Alastor explained. He quickly looked at Rosie, and flicked his head in one subtle movement. Rosie’s brows shot up, but she walked away, leaving you and Alastor standing in the flickering lights of the café window. 

“You know Charlie?” You asked, eyes brightening with hope, but your question was ignored.

“I’m afraid I have something to tell you, dear,” he chuckled, adjusting his monocle as he stood up and drew you in by the shoulder. He flicked his cane, gesturing to the darkening streets. “Shall we go for a stroll?”

You stared at him. “Sure.”

You both started off down the street, his arm still firm around your shoulder. “So, Lucifer and Charlie, is it?”

You nodded wordlessly.

“And you think they’ll help you?”

Your stomach twisted with dread, but your chest clenched with determination. “I don’t think, I know.”

He looked at you with pity. It made your shoulders tremble. “I wouldn’t be too sure, darling.”

“What do you mean.” You clenched your hands into fists, fighting to keep your voice even as he broke away to face you.

“I mean, my dear, that they won’t.”

You laughed, but it was forced. “And explain that to me.”

He leaned on his cane nonchalantly, and a burst of anger flared up in your gut. “Charlie… she was the one who tipped off Heaven.” He inspected his nails closely.

“No she wasn’t,” you pointed out sharply. “It was Lute- the general-“ you winced. “-the new leader of the exorcist army.”

“Really? And you think the word of one single person could convince Heaven?” He stepped closer. “What evidence exactly did Lute provide?”

You stared at him. “A bracelet.”

He laughed mockingly. “A bracelet.” Your face burned with embarrassment. “Tell me, my dear, exactly how a bracelet could provide suitable, concrete evidence?”

You thought hard, but couldn’t come up with anything. “It was a special bracelet. It could have raised suspicions-“

“But they would need someone to confirm them.”

As much as you hated this, everything he was saying made sense. And you couldn’t come up with anything to counter his argument. “You’re just a stranger. Why should I listen to you?”

“Whether you listen to me or not is up to you.” His cheshire grin glinted in the dark night. “But perhaps you should simply hear me.”

You chewed your lip. “Go on, then.” You flicked your hand at him.

“As for Lucifer… when you landed here, in Hell, it was on the news, yes?”

You nodded, dread making you feel lightheaded. 

“Lucifer saw, and he simply said that you could help yourself.” He stepped even closer. “That he wouldn’t care if you lived or died- that you had landed here by your own fault, and that you weren’t his problem.” He leaned down to whisper in your ear. “That he didn’t care about you.”

You froze.

“He didn’t love you,” Alastor continued, before flicking his eyes up to your face. “But it isn’t your fault that you’re here, is it darling?” You couldn’t make a sound. “He tempted you.”

“You don’t even know half the story,” you said shakily. “You don’t know the truth.”

“For all you know, he could have set you up.”

“No, no. No… you don’t…” you tried to move away, but you couldn’t.

“If he truly loved you, don’t you think he’d try and save you?”

“You have no proof.” Your fist clenched even tighter, nails cutting into your palm and drawing golden blood. 

“Oh, but I do.”

And with that, he tapped the microphone on his cane. You stood, enraptured, as Lucifer’s unmistakeable voice flowed out.

“I don’t care if she lives or dies. I don’t care at all…” It crackled, then cut to another audio. “No, I don’t love her…” Another. “…someone else…” Another. “[name] isn’t my problem. It’s her own fault she’s ended up here. Try to save her? Are you serious? Just leave her for the Vees.”

The last one was a blow to your chest.

“Love her? Are you serious? She’s just some girl, a good distraction for a while.”

You sucked in a deep breath, then let it out slowly again. Turning away. “I need to go,” you gasped, and before Alastor could grab you you’d flung yourself into the dark night, your mind a storm of thoughts. 

Eventually, the familiar shadow of a building loomed into the distance. The building where the three overlords had captured you. 

They were powerful. They were useful. 

The window was still broken. You flapped your wings as you slowed to a stop, kicking your legs out to lose momentum before dropping into the room, gingerly stepping over the broken glass scattered across the floor. You looked up and around. The room was dark and empty. 

Taking in a shuddery breath, you sank to the floor. 

Reality finally crashed over you.

Tears stung your eyes, sobs bubbling up past your throat as you fought to stifle them vainly. They racked through your body, tears streaming down your face as you covered your mouth. 

Adam died, Lute hated you, you’d never see Emily again because you’d let Lucifer tempt you. You dragged your nails across your skin, relishing in the pain it gave you, the pain that morphed into anger. 

He had tempted you. Had you forgotten who he really was? What he really was?

He was the devil. He was temptation incarnate, and he had sought to lead you to ruin. The burning-red thoughts made your head spin, turning you dizzy with fury. The reason you were lying here, bruised and broken, seeking those who wanted to harm you, was him. 

The anger dissipated, breaking down back into sadness. How could he just leave me like this? Was I a mere distraction? Your heart tore apart. 

He took everything from me. 

The door to the room slowly creaked open, and you heard someone swear, footsteps racing towards you.

“You-“

You looked up. Velvette stepped back quickly, startled. “What happened to you?”

Vox followed soon after her. You searched, but Valentino was nowhere to be found. “Oh, you, great, you’re here. Wait, why the fuck are you here?”

“We’ve been looking for you everywhere,” Velvette chipped. You blinked at her hazily.

“Look, we-“ Vox seemed disconcerted at your strangely calm demeanour, despite your crazed appearance, but ploughed on. “Ignore Valentino. We want you to work with us.”

“Work with you?” You murmured softly. Your lips barely moved.

“Yes. Work.” Velvette looked at you. “You’re an angel. You’re, like, ten times more powerful than any other sinner or overlord here in Hell.”

“You’d be a perfect addition to our team,” Vox finished. 

You looked at them both for what seemed like ages. They both glanced at eachother, wondering if you were going to say anything.

Finally, you spoke: “What’s in it for me?”

“We’ll give you anything you want,” Vox said, voice laced with desperation. “Power, money, safety. We’ll give you anything.”

You hummed thoughtfully.

“Just tell us what you want,” Velvette assured you. “What do you want, angel girl?” You looked up at her, finally finding your answer.

“Revenge.”