RE9 Leon Kennedy x Fem Reader
ONGOING SERIES / Part 1 here
SFW (for now), millennial reader, slowburn, fluff, comedy
It’s been two weeks since you met that mysterious man at the masquerade and eerie New Year’s gala. You conveniently forgot certain things about him, but something about him lingered, and you can’t help it.
Anyway, there’s something much more important on your mind: today, you’re meeting your boss at your new job as a receptionist at the DSO. You’ll be his secretary, but… why does everyone talk about him so strangely?
A/N: you asked, I delivered! I'll try to keep this series at the same time with Cat Distribution System. I want to use this one as fresh air (?). Hope you like this chapter!!
Check my masterlist here
Chapter 2: The new girl this, the new girl that
He can’t believe the DSO has turned into something like a high school.
After a week out of the office (stuck in pointless missions and endless meetings) he’s finally going to meet the new receptionist and his new secretary.
Yesterday, Leon had arrived late enough to not seeing you, but not late enough to avoid witnessing the entire building caught in what felt like a hormonal war over the new recruit. You were just a civilian, apparently. So what?
The new girl this, the new girl that...
He simply doesn’t understand.
Sherry had been in charge of the recruitment process and the interviews, and she told him the candidate was kind, intelligent, experienced in government institutions, and backed by great references. According to her, they needed “a fresh start, someone with new ideas” after so many years with Lydia (who, apparently, also adored the new girl).
He trusted Sherry’s judgment. He always did.
But who the hell had she hired? A model? Even the thought of your face annoyed him a little. He’d just have to wait until he sees you.
The sound of plates and cups being set down on the table in his office made him open his eyes.
“You here already?” he muttered, groaning softly.
“I knew you’d be arriving early,” Sherry replied. “I’m just getting everything ready for our breakfast.”
“It’s 7:30 in the morning, Sherry.”
“The new girl arrives at 8.”
“Right. The new girl…”
“Did you check on her?”
“I read her résumé. She’s good. But everyone’s acting like teenagers here. Who the hell did you bring in?”
“Give them a couple of weeks. They’ll get used to it. It’s just that she’s really nice, and it’s been a while since someone like her was hired.”
“Like her? Even the higher-ups are thrilled. I just hope the other assholes don’t start making bets or the usual shows they pull every time something changes.” Leon groaned again and sighed, already exhausted, even if nothing had happened yet.
“Aren’t you eating anything, by the way? I can go buy something in case we need more,” she asked, changing the subject.
“I’ll just have black coffee. Already had breakfast.”
Sherry chuckled.
“Scrambled eggs, whole grain bread, oatmeal, fruit, and Greek yogurt? She’s going to realize you’re boring and cranky on day one.”
“The sooner the better, I guess.” He sighed. “Alright, let me help you.”
He stood up from his chair, groaning once again.
It’s been a week since you arrived.
Everyone has been extremely kind to you, as if you were some kind of miracle they weren’t expecting. It looks like you’ll have a ton of work, but nothing you can’t handle.
Even so, this morning feels more important than your first day. You’re about to meet Mr. Kennedy, one of your bosses here, a DSO founder and veteran agent. You were informed that you’ll be his secretary, in addition to your duties at the reception desk.
You’ve heard a few things about him in the past: smart, efficient, a good leader, a legend. But something feels off now.
“Kennedy is a little serious, but don’t worry, he’s a nice guy. Kinda grumpy, but a good boss. He’s just… built differently, you know?” some agents around your age had explained to you, calmly.
“Leon is like a dad to me. He’s also an amazing person and boss. He’s just… well, a little cranky. And a little too creative for his own good, too. But you’ll get used to it… and his jokes.” Sherry Birkin said, giggling softly. She was the one who had hired you. You already love her.
To you, it all sounded like one of those jobs where everyone hates their boss but sugarcoats the reality so you don’t run away on your first day. Still, you decided not to take it as a red flag or a severe case of Stockholm syndrome… yet.
That didn’t change the fact that you were utterly nervous.
You tried to look as good as possible: sober, but not in a boring way. You did your hair so it looked polished enough without feeling overly formal.
Luckily, you won’t be alone in this meeting. Sherry Birkin will be there, along with Lydia, the sixty-year-old secretary who was retiring next month but had stayed on to teach you how the job was done here.
When you got to the office at 07:50 a.m., Lydia was already there waiting for you. She gently took your arm, and you made your way to your new boss’ office.
“Mr. Kennedy is such an adorable and… special man. I know you’ll like him. Don’t worry too much, okay?” she said warmly.
Good thing she couldn’t hear what was going on inside your head: just incoherent, stressed groans and internal panic. You briefly considered calling your guardian to come pick you up right that second, but then remembered you were already an adult.
“Oh, you’re here! Good morning!”
“Good morning, Miss Birkin,” you said warmly and politely.
“I already told you, you can call me Sherry,” she said kindly, and you just smiled and nodded.
Behind her, there he was. Mr. Kennedy, watching you in silence, hands tucked into his pockets.
He was wearing a dark blue turtleneck and a casual yet elegant suit. His blond and gray stubble and his slightly messy, dirty blond and gray hair, gave the impression that everything about him required minimal effort, but curiously, he didn’t look disheveled at all.
His skin, with the wrinkles of a middle-aged man, was beautifully sunkissed, but you were sure his tan was the result of long, brutal battles, not a cruise. He was tall and broad (and cup D size, you're sure), with a posture too confident for the exhausted gaze he carried. His blue eyes contrasted with his deadpan, serious expression, and what you were sure was already a chronic frown.
He didn’t look like he had had a bad night’s sleep or just a lot of work lately: he looked like he was born tired. An exhausted man, begging for a vacation or a way out of this place.
Every single thing on its own felt like it could be a complete disaster, but Mr. Kennedy nailed it in a way that left you mesmerized. You were never into older men, but wow. He was beautiful. Gorgeous. Almost heavenly.
“Leon S. Kennedy. Nice to meet you. And welcome.” He looked at you politely and offered you his hand.
“Nice to meet you, Mr. Kennedy.”
After introducing yourself, you took his hand, smiling, and he squeezed your hand enough to make you feel like your bones were in danger. When he noticed your reaction, he let go immediately, as if you had something contagious.
“I’ve heard a lot about you. Looks like you already have your fanbase.”
Mr. Kennedy looked at you and smirked slightly. You noticed Sherry frowning. You don’t know this, but if she could, she would’ve hit him with her elbow.
“Everyone has been so kind to me,” you said warmly. “I feel really welcome.”
“That’s great. I’m glad you’re feeling comfortable,” he replied, nodding.
Mr. Kennedy glanced at Sherry, a subtle, satisfied, slightly lopsided grin on his face. Her expression screamed You’re finally behaving. Yes, they were definitely father and daughter.
“I read your résumé.”
He paused, avoiding your gaze. The way he spoke was slightly clumsy, slow. You wanted to believe he was just a reserved guy. Maybe he just needed to get to know you better.
“It was good.”
Silence fell over his office. It was uncomfortable, but almost comical. Sherry’s expression screamed Please say something else. Lydia looked at Mr. Kennedy like a grandmother looking at her adorable grandchild.
He looked at Sherry, understanding the command (or, at this point, the plea).
“You have a lot of experience. Sherry called some of your references. They said amazing things about you.” You were sure he wanted to bring up the fanbase comment again, but he seemed to hold himself back.
“Oh, I had no idea about that. I’m glad they did. That makes me really happy.” You tried to meet his gaze and smile, thinking it might help. He looked back at you and nodded, still uncomfortable.
The rest of the meeting was just like him: serious, practical… awkward. He explained some things he needed your help with, from the most routine tasks to more specific ones.
“But there’s someone higher in the hierarchy than us, and you need to be careful with that,” he said after explaining the DSO’s organizational chart to you. Sherry sighed. Lydia looked at him endearingly (again).
“Printers. They’re on a different level of authority here,” he nodded, as if this were a very serious issue. “So please be kind to them. Or maybe they just have something against me. Not the first time something like this has happened to me, anyway.”
You couldn’t help but giggle. It was a soft, quiet sound. He looked at you and frowned.
Fuck. How are you supposed to react?
And Sherry… she looked embarrassed.
“Thank you for the warning, Mr. Kennedy. I’ll be careful from now on.”
After a short silence, Sherry sighed again.
“You have a meeting in 20 minutes, Leon.”
“Good. I think we’ve addressed everything I needed to. So just get comfortable from now on and listen to everything Lydia says. She knows the DSO like the back of her hand.”
“Don’t worry, my dear. She’s really fast and caught up very easily. I’d even say you’ll be better off with her than with me.”
“I’ll miss you so much anyway. You’re the only one here who’s patient with this old man,” he said in a lighthearted, ironically melancholic tone.
“I’m sure you’ll be more than fine with my sweet successor. She’s just as patient as I am,” she reassured him.
Mr. Kennedy just nodded.
Lydia took your hand. She was so kind and helped you feel that everything would be alright after this rollercoaster of a meeting.
“That’s all then. You’re free,” he said seriously.
You rushed to your desk, utterly confused. You had expected to find an intimidating, tough man, but he was almost indecipherable. Too serious, but also too–
You startled. Mr. Kennedy was standing in front of your desk.
“Oh, sorry, I scared you.” His apology was genuine but awkward.
“No, don’t worry, Mr. Kennedy, really. I was just… too focused,” you said, a little anxious.
“Uh… okay. Well, uh… can you come to my office for a moment?”
You nodded, on the verge of panicking.
Fuck. Did you leave too quickly? Did you forget something? Did you say something inappropriate?
You walked behind him like a little lamb on her way to the slaughterhouse. When you reached his office, he didn’t close the door. He just stood there in silence, and scratched the back of his neck.
“All those things,” Mr. Kennedy said, one of his hands in his pocket and the other pointing at the table, where there was a plate of sweets and baked goods, “we bought them for you. I don’t… I’m too boring for that kind of thing, I guess. Sherry says I eat like I’m running a marathon every day.” He sounded like he was making fun of himself.
You nodded and smiled. He glanced at you briefly and pointed at the kitchen tongs.
“Don’t worry, I didn’t touch them. I used that thing to put everything there. Just take everything with you and… enjoy.”
During the whole exchange, you noticed Mr. Kennedy looked you in the eyes only twice, for a second or less each time. The rest of the time, he kept his gaze on the plate.
Did they say he was serious? Cranky? Special? Isn’t this man just… extremely awkward?
You took the plate and smiled kindly.
“Thank you so much, Mr. Kennedy.”
“You’re welcome. And… welcome. Double welcome.” He let out a slight, almost imperceptible smile. It felt like he was satisfied with his own wording, as if he had just made a good pun.
You didn’t say anything. But were you supposed to laugh? Smile? You just decided to return his smile, looking at him. He looked back and immediately looked away, as if he were allergic to smiles.
“Thank you so much, really. Do you need me to close the door?” you asked, about to leave.
“No, no, don’t worry. Just take care of your plate, okay?” he said, picking up a document from his desk.
You nodded, a little puzzled, and left.
When Leon saw you enter the office for the first time, he felt immediately puzzled. You weren’t a supermodel, not someone who could feature in a garage calendar photoshoot, not the artist of the moment or anything like that. Your beauty wasn’t magazine-esque: it was something hard to describe, but it blended perfectly with your personality and the way you spoke.
Actually, you looked more like a newborn Bambi: soft-spoken, peaceful, attentive, almost naive. Stylish and elegant, in a refreshing, gentle way. Looking at your college degree, he didn’t understand how you ended up here, but he felt like you were born to be kind and to fix things, like an everything-will-be-alright fairy. The fact that you loved sweets was so you, even though he had literally just met you today.
But there were many things that made him feel uneasy about you.
First, he was complaining and wondering why everyone was so agitated by your presence. He didn’t really get it. But the more he heard you talk, look at him, and explain things, the more it started to make sense. So he decided not to judge them, and to intervene only if something really bad happened.
Second, he felt like he had seen you before, but he had no idea where. After the meeting, he researched everything about you that he had access to. Not like a stalker, more like someone genuinely curious, even wondering if you might be a spy or something. He immediately discarded the idea, because he couldn’t find anything on you.
Third, and the most alarming. Leon was about to blame that young woman he had kissed on New Year’s, because a feeling like this had never crossed his mind before with someone your age.
Leon didn’t want to name the feeling yet. But he knew what it was. And it was no good at all.
Why couldn’t he just forget that girl? Leon had suppressed parts of that memory, out of embarrassment, of course. He had deliberately forgotten her face, her voice, her scent. But the taste of her lips, the softness of her touch, how graceful, flirty, and daring she had been, and some of the words she had said were stuck in his head. He couldn’t help it.
He just hoped that, like Sherry said, everyone would get used to this in a couple of weeks, including him. Perhaps this was just the first impression, the novelty, whatever. Eventually, you wouldn’t look that charming, that pretty, that–
Leon stopped himself, sighing as he stared at the ceiling of his office. He'll need to behave properly in front of you, because right now he felt like he had been an idiot the entire time he interacted with you this morning. He was avoiding Sherry because he's sure she’ll scold him (not the first time, but better not add another one). And, judging by your attitude, he was sure someone had told you he was a grumpy, sleep-deprived monster.
“I’d like to think of this as an omen.”
Fuck. I need to stop thinking of her.
And of her, too.
You don’t understand what the hell is happening, but there’s one thing for sure: you’ve got an instant crush on your boss. Your hot and (pretty likely) goofy boss. You’re not even worried anymore about how much work you have to do here.
How the hell are you supposed to make this man feel comfortable around you? How the hell are you supposed to feel comfortable around him?
During the meeting, you had way more challenges than you expected, but the hardest one was focusing on what your boss was saying and not on how handsome he is. He barely looked at you, but you still felt as if you were being analyzed, like under a microscope. And his lame jokes… you’d have to get used to those too, because it didn’t seem like they were just a one-time thing.
Another weird thing about it is that you have the feeling you’ve seen him before. But it’s impossible, because his face doesn’t ring any bells. It’s like you’ve met him already. You think it’s because of how many people have been talking about him lately. Yes. That must be it.
But goddamn, he’s so fucking handsome and lame, you thought while furiously chewing your breakfast leftovers, absolutely annoyed, as if the damn sweets were guilty of everything.
Your mind was drowning in the intrusive urge to squish him, because the more serious and clumsy he was, the more endearing he looked. His manners were as comical as charming. People would call this love at first sight, but every time you named it like that, your stomach hurts. You were frightened it would backfire eventually, so you needed to be extremely careful from now on. You were here to do your job and that’s all, not for any kind of cliché office romance.
You were so angry you needed to blame someone for this, so you chose that old man you kissed on New Year’s. That was a bad, dumb idea, just like believing in a pointless superstition, because now you’re trapped in what-ifs and the stupid, supposedly real prison called fate. And now you’ve taken a liking to older men, which is a tragedy.
Luckily, the alcohol (and a convenient, somewhat self-inflicted amnesia) made you forget his voice and many details, but something about him definitely lingered, because now you’re romanticizing an awkward and stupidly attractive older man who happens to be your fucking boss.
You don’t want to admit it, but you’re repeating that man’s words in a neverending loop. Those words, followed by the warmth of his breath, his exquisite taste and lips. He was so bold, manly, and irresistible.
“I can also find special, unexpected things.”
That fucking guy, when I fucking catch him, you think, still eating, or more accurately, destroying the food inside your mouth.
RE9 Leon Kennedy x Fem Reader
ONGOING SERIES // Part 2
SFW (for now), millennial reader, slowburn, fluff, comedy
A masquerade and eerie New Year’s gala turned into a twist of fate when you were paired to dance with a mysterious man by pure chance. You only needed someone to kiss at midnight to follow a silly superstition, but you also found a brief, intense connection. Will you meet him again?
A/N: I just blurted out this wip/draft that I want to turn (eventually) into a fic with more chapters. To be honest I'm procrastinating my ongoing fic with a new fic idea lol. I hope you like it!
ps. had to edit a few things
Check my masterlist here
Leon didn’t care about the day, the month, or the time. He just needed to do his job. A New Year’s Eve gala wasn’t an exception.
And anyway, it was a short mission: meet a man wearing a Phantom of the Opera mask and ask him a few questions. He got it done in a few minutes, which meant he was already finished by 11:20 p.m.
His suit wasn’t anything particularly spectacular. It was his classic black suit, black tie, and white shirt. His mask, made by Sherry (who had insisted far too much on making it), was black with a matte finish, adorned with gold details placed with refined care and black silk ribbon straps, everything tailored to match his suit. The final touch was a classic slicked-back hairstyle that made him almost unrecognizable.
An outfit perhaps too elegant for an event that felt kinda peculiar: a palace with warmly lit corridors, an avant-garde, eerie circus staff wearing theater-inspired makeup, curious cocktails that glowed in the dark, casino-style games, and a surprisingly normal dance floor that somehow made the whole event feel even more uncanny.
When he was about to leave, a jester with white, heavy makeup and a wide smile handed him a medium-sized pin with a number on it.
“6.” Leon said, curious, looking at it.
“I am the Dealer of Fates, sir,” the man said in a charismatic, slightly maniac tone. “Find the woman with that number and ask her for a dance. And tonight is your lucky night, gentleman.”
“Eh?” Leon was baffled as fuck.
“Six. The Lovers’ number. Passion and devotion!” it was a declamation and an undeniable fact. “Destiny awaits you, gentleman!” The jester laughed, pleased with himself.
“I think destiny will have to await a little longer,” Leon retorted, looking at the pin. His tone was indifferent, almost nonchalant.
“Be careful, gentleman. Don’t tempt fate with your words. No human can shape destiny!” Something about the man’s laugh reminded him of a stranger he met years ago.
Leon looked at the jester one last time and nodded to him. He had to admit the man left him a little unsettled. Not wanting to look too suspicious, he pinned the badge to his jacket and walked quickly toward the entrance.
“Well, I feel sorry for the girl who has my number. I have to leave.”
While walking through the corridor, he noticed a young woman pointing at him.
“Oh, it's you! 6!”
You arrived at the gala at 10:30 p.m. You’re not used to these kinds of events, but when your friend told you it was a chance to be whoever you wanted without anyone knowing who you were or judging you, you thought it was actually a good idea. A chance to not be the shy, awkward girl you’re used to be.
So you chose your best outfit: a dark blue dress with a cinched waist and a flowing skirt a little above the knee. The dress had delicate cold-shoulder sleeves, with ruffles cascading from the high neckline. Your mask was also dark blue and glossy, adorned with silver details and a silver chain hanging from one side, ending in a heart charm, with a silver velvet strap. A ponytail, light makeup and a glossy red lipstick were the final touches, along with a small silver bag and pointed toe kitten heels of the same color. You felt beautiful and gorgeous in a way that was unusual for you.
It was 10:50 p.m. and you were waiting to buy a fluorescent drink that looked far too suspicious. Suddenly, a strange jester approached you.
“My ladies! I am the Dealer of Fates,” he said with reverence and a haunting gallantry. “Please, pick a number. It will decide your dance partner… and your destiny.”
You and your friends each grabbed a medium-sized pin with a number on it. Yours was 6.
The jester looked at you and let out a maniac laugh.
“Passion and fate await you, my lady!”
You looked at the man, but he simply walked away without elaborating. One of your friends was already holding your drinks.
“Oh! Six! The Lovers Arcana!” said your friend, who was a little too into esotericism.
“No way, you too? The jester also said something weird. Something about destiny or whatever.”
“I agree.” She smirked, and you headed to the dance floor.
After dancing for a few minutes, your friend started explaining something to you.
“...and you have to kiss at midnight.”
“What?”
It was something about kissing someone at midnight, but the music was so loud it was impossible to catch every word. Did she say luck? Whatever. The important thing was that you needed to find someone to kiss at midnight. It was a silly superstition, but why not giving it a try, like, just for fun?
“I’ll go to the bathroom,” you said, rushing toward the corridor.
You searched every corner for the person with your number. Number 6. That was the safest option for your midnight kiss. You could just ask it as a favor. It wasn't like you were ever going to see that person again anyway.
So when you saw him, you gasped. From a distance, he looked tall, moving confidently across the room. You couldn't see his face, but even the way he walked was... hot?
“I need to kiss this guy,” you said with a resolution you wouldn't have had without a mask (and a few drinks).
“Oh, it's you! 6!”
You reached him and looked more carefully. You could see a few wrinkles on his freshly shaven face. His lips weren't too thin or too thick, they had exactly the right shape and size. A soft chin and a masculine neck. Absolutely perfect.
For a second, you were appalled. You know that at events like these, covering part of your face can hide things someone might consider unattractive once they finally see you, or the other way around. But tonight, you'll take what you can see, and what you saw was enough. Enough to know you'll enjoy it. At least this small part of him was, in fact, beautiful.
“Hey. Hello. You found me.” You could see a slight smirk on his face, but his tone was apathetic.
“Yes. Hi.”
It was 11:30 p.m. when the jester of destiny (or whatever his name was) called everyone to the dance floor over the microphone. With or without numbers, he said. "I want to know what love is" by Foreigner started playing.
“Do people still dance to this?” he asked, like you would know.
“Not the romantic type, sir?” You took his hand and smiled playfully.
A faint smirk appeared on his lips.
“Can't say I've ever had the chance, lady.”
As you walked toward the dance floor, Leon found himself wondering what the hell he was doing. A much younger woman had just grabbed his hand, and he was about to dance to an ’80s ballad with her.
Your skin looked soft, glowy, your cheeks were flushed, and your lips wore a glossy red lipstick. You were wearing a beautiful dark blue dress that complemented your figure perfectly.
For a second, he took the jester’s words seriously. But no. Impossible. It was just a coincidence you were wearing his favorite color. He was sure there was a beautiful woman behind that mask too. But none of that meant anything. You were too young for something he wasn't even looking for.
Once you reached the dance floor, you both stood still. Leon was about to apologize and tell you he had to leave, but when you gently placed your hands on his shoulders, he thought that one dance wouldn't hurt anyone. Right?
Besides, he was never going to see you again.
So he rested one hand on the small of your back, the other on your shoulder blade, and started moving softly. Not being too used to this, he had to observe carefully how people danced to ballads here. Once he got it, he simply followed the rhythm, slowly, over and over, a choreography you followed like it was second nature. And it felt good. It felt really good. Your body and your scent felt delicate, like flowers and citrus fruit. It was almost hypnotizing.
In my life
there's been heartache and pain
I don't know
if I can face it again
Can't stop now
I've traveled so far
to change this lonely life
When was the last time he had felt something like this?
He didn’t have anything else to do here anymore. His mission was accomplished. He could leave whenever he wanted.
So he stayed, closing his eyes, with your head resting on his chest.
This is weirder than you expected. You’re dancing with a stranger to an ’80s ballad. A stranger who's clearly older than you.
But it feels good. It feels really good.
His scent felt like being surrounded by a forest of cedarwood, with a breeze of spicy vanilla and cinnamon. His body felt strong and safe: he could absolutely shield you from a meteor shower. His movements were elegant, masculine. He felt expensive and lovely at the same time.
But you also felt like he wasn’t exactly comfortable with the idea of having found you.
“Look, if you want to leave, it’s fine. I mean, I just brought you here without saying anything,” you said gently, leaning close to his ear.
A slight, almost imperceptible squeeze of the hand resting on the small of your back made you jolt.
“I don’t want to leave,” he murmured. His voice was raspy and deep, enough to stop you from asking questions.
“That’s… good,” you said.
“It’s just that you’re too young.”
“I’m a woman,” you paused to emphasize the word, “a woman in her thirties who lives alone and can buy her own things.”
“Can’t argue with that logic, I guess.” He sounded almost amused.
I wanna know what love is
I want you to show me
I wanna feel what love is
I know you can show me
“Is this your first time coming to these parties?” you asked.
“Yes. What about you?”
“Same here. Did you come with someone?”
“No.” He said.
“Really?”
“Yes.”
You were perceptive enough to realize that you would probably never see this man again. He wouldn’t tell you his name or what he was doing here, either.
“That’s… an interesting decision. But I won’t ask for more details. Don’t worry.”
You danced in silence for a while. You didn’t count how many songs played, you just felt the warmth of the man holding you, gentle enough to make you feel like you were something precious he had found here, and a grip strong enough to make you feel he wasn’t willing to let you go.
You glanced at your watch. 11:50 p.m. You needed to do this now.
“Can we go outside to take a breather?”
“Sure.”
When he let you go, you met each other’s gaze. Then, in an unexpected move, he gently took your hand and led you toward a small balcony.
When you got there, Leon started talking out of nowhere.
“Not that I didn’t want to dance. It’s just that I came searching for something I already found,” he explained, looking at the moon.
“Something.” You gave him a slight, playful smirk.
“Yes.”
“You sound like a mysterious guy.”
Leon chuckled. He had never been the kind of man to show off his job or anything he had done. He had never allowed himself to speak from ego instead of humility.
In short, he had never seduced someone like this before. Or maybe he had tried, but failed miserably. And he couldn’t help how much he wanted to flirt with you. If it weren’t for the mask, he wouldn’t have done it at all.
“You wouldn’t believe me,” he said, smirking.
Your giggle was so pretty and endearing that all he wanted was to see your eyes behind the mask when you laughed like that. But he can’t do that.
“I’m guessing you’re not telling me your name, then.”
“You don’t need to tell me yours, either.”
“Fine,” you said softly, turning your gaze back to the moon with him.
“What about you? Did you come alone? Why did you come?” he asked.
“I came searching for something I already found,” you said with a flirty smile.
He smiled, instantly understanding your intention. But his expression was affectionate, like you had said something deeply meaningful.
“Guess it’s been a good night for both of us,” he said, flirting back, his voice deeper and more sensual this time.
You glanced at your watch. 11:55 p.m.
You took a deep breath.
“May I ask you something, sir?”
“Well… if I can help, sure,” he said, swallowing hard.
You took your time. He noticed you were nervous.
“Can we kiss? I mean, I’m asking as a favor,” you explained clumsily. “It’s just that with the kiss I’ll be luckier in love this year. I mean, there’s this saying, if you kiss someone at New Year’s, you’ll be lucky in love this year.”
Leon sighed, amused by the situation.
“Will I be lucky too?”
“Yes. It works the other way around, too.” You sounded almost like a car reseller.
“I don’t want to be lucky, actually. But if it helps you, well…” he said with a relaxed resignation.
“Thanks! It has to be exactly at midnight.”
“That’s pretty specific. But alright,” he said, understanding the mission.
That’s when the crowd started a joyful, almost euphoric chant.
“10! 9! 8! 7! 6!”
Leon reached out and gently took your chin, his hand trembling slightly. His plan was just a quick peck, gentle enough so you could still find a nice boyfriend in the future.
“5! 4! 3! 2! 1!
...HAPPY NEW YEAR!”
The crowd burst into singing, cheering, laughing. The music played again, and the fireworks felt too loud and overwhelming.
When Leon tasted the sweetness of your lips something shut his brain down. In a mutual instinct, you both pressed with more confidence, deepening the kiss little by little. Just like you did on the dance floor, the rhythm of your breathing and movements matched, catching each other’s lower lip between your lips over and over again.
What he thought was going to be a quick peck turned into a question he answered right away with his hand sliding to the small of your back and his fingers delicately brushing your face. Something inside him melted when you let out a sound that was somewhere between a sigh and a soft moan. Like an agreement, your tongues brushed together slowly, your breathing heavy, both of you sighing from time to time.
The kiss felt like the ignition of the moment when someone starts falling in love: a mutual, tender contract between two people choosing each other. It was vulnerable and sensual, tense and liberating, like you were both satisfying a hunger that went beyond desire. The fireworks now felt distant enough to make everything seem quiet, still, in silence. As if time itself had stopped, and the noise around you faded away.
“Happy new year. I hope this brings you some luck in the future,” he murmured to your ear. His tone was sensual, almost devotional.
“I'd like to think of this as an omen,” you murmured back, kissing his cheek with a flirty, sweet attitude.
He smirked and kissed you once more. He was a great kisser. His tongue and his breath felt like a rich whisky you wished you could taste one day, one more time. His lips were incredibly soft, and you bit his lower lip gently, drawing out a slight hiss from him that made you feel proud. You also took the chance to run your hands over his arms: all you felt was muscle, exquisitely shaped. A body that made you feel the luckiest and the unluckiest person here.
You opened your eyes and looked at each other. You used the fireworks as an excuse to catch the reflections in his pupils, trying to figure out what his eyes looked like.
Blue eyes. That was the only thing you could notice before you looked at his neck. A scar that had something like white threads was there, almost imperceptible.
“A mysterious man with scars,” you murmured, respectfully but still flirty.
“Sometimes you’re in the wrong place at the wrong time,” he murmured, his tone cocky.
“You feel like someone who experiences that pretty often,” you teased him.
“With a little more effort, I also meet the wrong people.”
He paused, then kissed you once more, holding your hands and brushing them with his thumbs.
“But looks like I can also find special, unexpected things,” he whispered, his lips brushing against yours softly.
You let out a soft sigh, deepening the kiss a little more. After a few minutes that felt too short, he pulled away.
“I have to leave,” he murmured, still close to you.
“It’s fine.”
He let you go, and you looked at each other.
“Thank you so much for this. I really liked it. You’re free now. I wish you a happy new year, sir.”
He stood still. For a second, you thought he was going to surrender and tell you how to find him again.
“I liked it too. A lot. So I think I’m not really free anymore, lady.”
He nodded once, almost reverently, and walked away. You watched him, hypnotized, until he disappeared into the crowd.
“That’s what you told me I had to do, right? Kiss someone at midnight. I kissed the guy with my number, but I asked him as a favor,” you told your friend the next morning over breakfast, dealing with a massive hangover since you weren’t used to alcohol at all.
“Girl, I was telling you the story, not telling you to do it,” your friend burst out laughing.
“What do you mean?”
“I told you that there’s this myth that says that if you kiss a stranger at midnight on New Year’s, fate will bring him back to you. And since you got number six, I’d risk saying you’ve just met the love of your life.”
You let out a skeptical pffft.
“You hippie little brat,” you retorted.
Your friend laughed, clearly amused.
“And what did you think it was?”
“I understood I needed to kiss a guy so I could have good luck this year or something?” you shrugged, slightly confused.
“Well, that’s also true, but when the fuck did I say that? I’m sure I didn’t.”
“When we were dancing!!!”
“Oh my God, you misunderstood the whole thing,” she said, bursting out laughing. “But who was he? Did you exchange numbers or something?”
“No.”
“What? Don’t you know anything else?”
“I just know… uh… he was older. In his forties, probably. But I felt he was handsome even with the mask?? And he was such a gentleman. He was a good kisser. He was ripped and smelled so good. He must be a millionaire, too.”
“Sure. And he’s also a hero who saved the world,” your friend said ironically, teasing you.
“Come on, I’m just telling you his vibe!!”
“You look down bad, my friend. It’s kinda funny.”
“The thing is, he didn’t even tell me his name. Nothing. He looked so mysterious.”
“I can’t believe you didn’t ask him for his number. Look at you. You need to get your shit together. When do you start your new job?”
“Oh, next week. Government paperwork. That’s what they told me.”
“Will you have to fight zombies or something?”
“I’ll be just a receptionist there, dude.”
“Well, we need to find your Mr. Perfect. If you don’t find him, you’ve lost the love of your life. This is serious.”
You scoffed lightly.
“And how will we find him?”
“Look, you actually have an advantage. You’ll be working with detectives and stuff, right? I bet they can help you.”
“Help me find the guy? They investigate bioweapons, dude. They won’t help me with such a stupid thing. And maybe I was having a fever dream or something.”
“Look, I don’t believe in coincidences. I’m sure you’ll find him again. The right people are closer than you actually think.”
You scoffed again in response.
“Yes, but—”
“What if you believe one more time? But next time we’re talking somewhere you can actually listen to me,” she said, bursting out laughing again.
Your friend’s words touched something in your heart where you had actually stopped believing. It was easier said than done, but…
Leon has had to coax your voice during intimacy in your relationship, had to let you know that it’s okay to be sexual and openly communicate with him, no matter your preferences. He also made it clear that he’d never persuade you into doing things you weren’t comfortable with, and if you wanted to remain more vanilla, he’d be fine with it. So when his good girl, his princess, requested that he be a little rougher tonight, he wasn’t going to pass up the opportunity, not when you’ve always been so reserved when it comes to sex.
❥Labels & Warnings: 18+
Explicit Sexual Content, Smut, Resident Evil 9 Leon, Reader insert, Reader is on the shy/reserved side, Vaginal Sex, Rough Sex, Spanking, Age gap relationship, References to the age gap, Use of daddy, Use of princess, Use of baby/good/dirty girl, Small mention of Leon putting a baby in you.
W.C. 2.3k
AO3 ✧ Masterlist
The sounds coming from your mouth are as vile as the gentle smacks and squelches that fill your shared bedroom with Leon. Clinging to his pillar-like body, you press your face to his, feeling the prickly scratch of his stubble against your cheek, lips, and chin. Large and rugged, his hands cup your ass with your legs hooked over the crook of his elbows. The unfamiliar position maddens Leon, driving him to handle you with a roughness he isn’t used to using on you. You’re forced to take the girth that splits you wide, the stretch more intense in this position. Your body jostles with his muscular frame, breasts pressing into his hard pecs. He’s hot against you, barely breaking a sweat while he’s carrying you and sinking into you with soft grunts. Every thrust pulls on your heart; the pleasure he delivers encompasses your mind, body, and soul. You’re like a melted candle in his big, firm arms, shaking while he’s sturdy as can be. He’s so strong; he can handle the powerful recoil from Requiem after all.
“Too much, princess?” Leon checks in with you, the grip on your ass creating handprints.
“N-no,” you shakily respond, toes curling from their position at his lower back. “Can you do it h-harder,” you stutter, rolling your hips to meet his thrusts. “Please,” you whimper out, your voice sweeter than candy as his glossy cock glides through your taut walls.
Leon’s hips stutter, only for a second before they begin smacking against you at a faster, harder pace. The request, paired with your hips trying to meet his pelvis, is downright explicit coming from you.
“Thought you were my good girl,” he grunts, swiftly smacking your ass.
“I am,” you pathetically and eagerly moan, the sting on your cheek ringing through your skin.
Leon scoffs playfully, his bangs tickling your ear. “Good girls don’t moan like you’re moaning, and they definitely don’t try to ride their old boyfriend’s cock like this.”
Your hips pause their movements, tightening your arms around his neck and burying your face into his neck. “You’re not old.”
The way you said it in a hushed tone makes him chuckle.
“Too old for you.”
“Just right for me,” you correct, walls clamping down on him.
“Fuck, you’re perfect for me,” Leon growls, delivering a single, harder slap over the same spot he smacked you earlier.
You squeal and dig your nails into his skin, drawing vibrant red marks over old scratches on his trapezius muscle.
“Let me look at you, baby,” he rasps.
You straighten your back so he can see your face, his thrusts slowing but still deep. Sharp and dark, his eyes lay their wonderment over your pretty features, taking in how divine you look. Your hair’s a mess, your eyes are watery, your mouth is agape; you’re in awe.
“Mmm,” he hums, inspecting the obscene expression you wear, voice deeper than the vast ocean. “So fuckin’ beautiful.”
Leon often gets lost in how pretty you are, and right now is no exception, seeing you so fucked out is ruining any self-control he has left.
“My baby girl wants it rough, hm?” Leon’s question is punctuated with a brutal slam, resuming the speed he was at.
You can tell he’s far gone as his tongue drips with lewd words like honey.
“Y-yeess,” your stutter grows into a drawn-out moan, feeling the fat end of his cock push into a sweet spot that makes your heart flip, and your eyes roll back.
Leon’s pale blues observe your lips, traversing upward to your eyes, lost in thought, as if he’s thinking whether or not he should ask what he’s about to ask.
“Want me to ruin you?”
The million-dollar question sets the atmosphere ablaze.
You nod, tears threatening to spill past your lash line. “Ruin me, Leon.”
Hissing through gritting teeth, Leon’s last threads of restraint snap. If you want him to break you, he will, just for his princess.
The sharp jut of his pelvis catches you off guard, and you choke on your breath. Leon’s thick tip reaches deeper than ever before, a bulge threatening to show itself in your lower belly as he grows ruthless. You never felt him be this rough before, and it’s something else compared to his usual gentle yet dominant demeanor. There have been many times he wanted to be rough with you, but you were his fragile princess who couldn’t take too much. To finally feel his force, the one he uses during training and missions, is making your entire body vibrate.
Your hands slip down to his firm pectorals from the impact, making Leon pause to make sure you have a good grip on him.
“Make sure you hold on tight, princess,” he rumbles, kissing your cheek sweetly.
Leon lets go of your ass to wrap a hand around your wrist, pulling it over his neck, his touch soft and gentle. You secure your hands together around his neck, your arms bending around his wide shoulders as you become flush to his body, your heart pounding against the hard planes of his chest. His steely fingers slowly skim down your arm, following it down to your ribs, waist, and hips until he’s cradling your ass with both hands.
“Gonna need it,” he grumbles, squeezing your cheeks.
Leon’s hips pull back before pushing back in, renewing the tempo. He uses your ass as leverage to hoist you onto his cock while his pelvis meets you halfway for a hard smack. The whimpers that hit his ear as he fucks you nasty drive him crazy. You’re so incredibly wet, dripping down his balls as they smack against you with appalling squelches.
“So fuckin’ wet,” he grunts, the force of his savage drives breaking up his words.
Leon’s mouth falls open with pants, savoring your heat that’s stretched over him like a glove.
“Makin’ a mess on the floor,” he says, grunting at the end of each strike of his ravenous hips.
Sliding through your constricting walls, his cock pulses with a need to smear your insides with his semen.
“Let me see that pretty face of yours,” he asks you again, unable to help himself as he needs to see your face unravel.
You shift back, but only enough to be a couple of centimeters away from his face. Seeing his handsome face causes you to moan aloud. With his bangs messy against his cheeks, his eyes are intense, mimicking the expression he has when a zombie is in his gunsight. The peppery stubble across his handsome face accentuates his features, and his charming wrinkles make you want to kiss every inch of them. He’s all yours, this beast of a man that’s capable of unimaginable feats, and he’s fucking you like his life depends on it.
“Leon,” you whine, your heart skipping several beats as your fingers dig into his muscular back.
You almost want to tell him it’s too much, because it is, too much in terms of how good he’s fucking you. By now, he’s sure you’ve made him bleed from the scratches that sting his back, shoulders, and trapezius.
“Feels good, baby?”
Leon’s eyes falter to your lips, watching you chew on your bottom lip as you try not to scream from the overwhelming amount of pleasure shooting through you when he bottoms out.
“None of that.”
Leon’s authoritative tone makes you snap out of it, and you leave your poor lip alone. Breathless gasps start escaping you every time his taut balls press up into you after he bottoms out.
“Wanna hear you, baby,” Leon hums.
As if he wasn’t already ruining you enough, Leon’s thrusts quickly evolve into rapid successions. He knocks the air out of you, your voice reducing to short, broken cries as you try to breathe normally. Clapping skin rings through the room like dynamite, inciting a frenzy within Leon.
“Pretty little pussy swallowing daddy’s cock like a good girl,” he snarls, a scowl painting his face.
The sudden drop of ‘daddy’ makes you cum instantly. Leon lets out a fierce growl that complements your scream as he bludgeons you with blinding pleasure. Your hips jitter uncontrollably against his pelvis, your pussy trying to close in around him. Small droplets leak out of you and around his gliding cock as his girth fights your walls from closing in on him. Clutching his muscled back, your hips' involuntary roll makes Leon’s rhythm stutter.
“God damn, baby,” he laments, watching you cum harder than ever before.
Shaking like a leaf in the ample muscle of his arms, you whimper from the aftershocks of a mind-numbing orgasm.
“Leon,” you blubber out, tears rolling down your cheeks as you hide your face from him.
“Sweetheart,” he coos, rushing to cradle your cheek with a hand he frees from clutching your ass. “Are you okay?”
With tears glittering across your eyelashes, you look at him helplessly, nestling into his large hand.
“Mhm.”
Leon scans your face for any pain or regret you might have after he treated you roughly for the first time. “Why the tears, hm?”
His tender tone of voice makes your pussy quiver all over again, and he feels it. You catch one of his eyebrows perking up, and his mouth growing into a lop-sided grin.
“You fuck me so good,” you utter, eyes glossy and far gone.
Leon whistles to himself, chuckling darkly as he shakes his head. You usually don’t say things like that, but you’re completely dazed and drunk off him that you don’t care.
Though his reaction wakes you from your trance, and you soon realize the weight of your words, making you recoil in his arms.
“Uh-uh,” he scolds you for trying to hide from him after all that, returning his hand to your ass and spanking you.
You gasp, clutching to his shoulders as he steps over the little mess of droplets on the floor. Leon lays you in a sea of sheets on the bed, and he doesn’t wait until your back hits the bed before he’s driving into you again. Such explicit whines fall from your lips, and his groans turn guttural and frequent as your sensitive pussy sucks him in. While embedding his cock into you, he maneuvers you into a position he wants you in. Sliding his palms up the bed, he pulls your legs up with his arms and plants his hands beside your ribs. Your legs are stretched out like your pussy is, allowing him absolute dominion over your body.
You go silent for a few seconds, turning your head away as his cock burrows itself inside of you at a different, more pleasurable angle. Encircling the expanse of his vast shoulders, your nails rake his skin into new scratches, and it only pushes him further into you. Tears fall past your temples as he planks his body above you, putting his delicious weight on you. Leaning into your neck, his grunts vividly hit your ear with each slam of his hips.
“My dirty girl,” he whispers in your ear, the plump of his lips pressing against the shell of it. “Wanting this old man to fuck you like he hates your guts.”
You squeal in delight from his words, the tension in your core already building as it had no time to dissipate from your last orgasm. The mattress shifts off the bed frame with every merciless blow to your body, Leon fucking you like a complete animal. He’s never done you like this before, and it’s destroyed your state of mind. Your hips begin to shrink into the mattress, wanting to get away from the stunning pleasure as it amounts to something so intense that it’s scary. Your face contorts, and your eyebrows furrow severely, your permanently open mouth gasping for air as another orgasm starts to blur your vision. You shift your gaze to his face, and the two of you maintain explicit eye contact. His fine, but aged features harden into a smoldering expression that makes your heart swoon.
“C’mon, baby, cum on daddy’s cock,” he thunders, voice cracking through the air, feeling your pussy constrict him in repeated pulses.
Your eyelashes flutter, and the world around you pauses, and you wail out. Sobbing as Leon fucks bliss into you, your pussy chokes his cock in unyielding convulsions. The ebb and flow washes over you like nirvana, splitting you into two and putting you back together again, leaving you changed. Leon lets out a groan that is damn near a moan, his cock spasming within your blistering walls.
“Fuck, I love you,” he roars, kissing you madly and sending a series of groans into your disjointed mouth.
Goosebumps prick his agitated body while torrents of semen spurt from his tip and through your cervix. You moan with delight, your womb accepting his seed with utter joy. Possessively, Leon pumps in and out of you, his swollen cock throbbing in tandem with his erratic pulse. His breath stutters across your lips, stubble grazing your mouth and chin as you milk every lost drop of him like you were made for him.
As your respective heart rates calm, the two of you are lost in each other’s eyes, swimming in the shared afterglow. He’s looking down at you with reverence, his messy hair curtaining around his face, tickling you. Leaking out of you in thick globs, his cum drops down his balls and onto the bed as he stays buried in your delightful pussy.
“Maybe I can get you to call me daddy next time,” he huffs, looking down at your body like it’s a work of art.
You sigh, panting with your breasts heaving under his gaze. “Whatever you say, daddy.”
Leon’s sharp eyes roll across your body and up to your face, and you feel him stiffen inside you.
“You keep that up, n’ I’ll put a baby in you.”
Your glossy eyes widen, and your heart rises to your throat, your pussy squeezing him.
“Leon,” you chide, your cheeks growing hot.
Chuckling, he leans down and presses a tender kiss to the corner of your mouth. “Guess you’ll be my only baby for now.”
I just saw on AO3 a fic from an author that has another story I had to drop because it was so so obvious it was written with ChatGPT. Even the summary is AI written. And it's really easy to notice (the way the sentences end, the pauses, the narrative techniques) to the point it's annoying.
Those fics are good sometimes, but at some point, at least to me, they're unbearable. I just can't keep reading. But guess what: they always have tons of kudos, hits and comments. Same situation here on tumblr. I don't want to go and comment, because no one else does and I feel like people will attack me instead?? I don't know man.
I know everyone can do whatever they want on internet but it infuriates me. An idea is an idea and sometimes you got a good "prompt" that only needs development, but I don't know why it's more accepted to read AI fics while we're saying "your AI slop bores me" when we see an AI visual fanart. Writing is an art too, and it needs to be made by humans. It needs sensitivity, creativity, etc. ChatGPT lacks of that, of course.
I work as a journalist irl, and in my case, I write everything from scratch and only use some AI tools to check grammar or stuff like that, but I think a lot, write a lot, discard a lot, fix a lot, and takes me a lot of time. I like to do things right, by myself, and enjoy the process (which I do). That takes me time and effort that AI fics "writers" don't consider. But my ideas are 100% my own. That's the way it should be, right?
I just wanted to rant about it a little. Perhaps is it too much? I don't know. Maybe I'm just complaining because of my own fics lol anyway I also think it's disrespectful to us, but no one talks enough about it.
The cottage life didn't come naturally to you, unlike it did with Bruno. Newly bought but older than the two of you combined, your cottage has been a sanctuary away from the congested streets of Naples. You never knew life could be so fulfilling, growing all sorts of flowers and food with your long-time boyfriend. Still, something is missing, and Bruno is determined to fulfill every last one of your dreams.
❥Labels & Warnings: 18+
This is a rewritten version! Reader-insert, Female reader, Explicit sexual content, Smut, Cozy cottage life, Fluff, Dirty talk, Vaginal fingering, Hand job, Bathtub sex, Vaginal sex, Spitting (only for a second), Multiple positions, Doggy style, Creampie, Impregnation, Loving Bruno <3
W.C. 4.3k
Original version on AO3 ✧ Masterlist
Ever since the two of you bought a cozy cottage out in the Italian countryside, Bruno has been insistent on growing a new garden, a dream garden. He absolutely loves being outdoors with you. Whether it’s sitting on the porch and drinking lemonade or renovating, doing everything and anything with you is where his heart is. You weren’t too keen on the idea of gardening at first, with all the bugs and dirt, but seeing Bruno so excited over a couple of new sprouts changed your mind entirely. He’s always had a green thumb, but he wasn’t able to exercise it much until you moved into the cottage. Now, he’s been planting all sorts of flowers, fruits, and vegetables. Being Italian, he loves to cook and adores using the ingredients that you grow together.
Today was not much different from other days. It started with breakfast out in the backyard, in front of the newly bloomed wisteria that’s intertwined on a trellis Bruno built. The sun was out all day, but now it’s gotten gloomy and chilly in the early evening, but that won’t stop you from nurturing your beloved garden.
You’re kneeling in the garden, watering plants, pulling out weeds, and planting new flowers along a walkway. Bruno smiles at you, his eyes crinkling as he points to a sprouting flower he planted that he thought wouldn’t make it (of course, it did).
“Isn’t it so cute, tesoro? These plants are like our babies,” Bruno says, observing all the plants around him, admiring the work you two have done to the cottage’s backyard.
Thoughts of having actual babies with you return to the forefront of his mind; the thought alone makes his heart throb. It’s not like the two of you have never talked about having a baby before, but the two of you still want more time before committing to starting a family. Still, you have said before that if it happens out of nowhere, you’d be happy just as much as he would be.
“You’re cuter, Bruno,” you say, breaking his thought process.
Who would’ve thought that a strong and ruthless mafioso would have such a big green thumb, let alone talk about his plants as if they were his children? You watch him delicately handle the plants with his gloved hands; he’s so tentative with them, like he is with you. He’s wearing his usual gardening hat, even though it’s not sunny anymore. He claims it suits the spirit of gardening, so he wears it regardless of the weather. Concentrating on what he’s doing, his lips have a pout to them as if he’s working on something difficult. You can never get over how cute he looks when he’s gardening. You’re thankful he loves doing something other than working all the time, and that he shares that with you.
Bruno catches you staring as he finishes planting a flower bed. He smirks at you before moving a hair away from your face and leaning in to kiss you sweetly. The brim of his hat bumps into your forehead, making you giggle. Suddenly, you hear water sprinkling on nearby leaves and flower petals before they hit the ground. Both of you look around, seeing the rain starting to come down hard. Bruno stands up and takes your hand into his big one, squeezing it.
“It seems it’s time for us to go inside, cara,” he says, beaming down at you from his taller stature.
You quickly follow Bruno into the cottage, your clothes soaked before entering the back door. Puddles trail behind the two of you as you make your way to the master bathroom. The newly renovated bathroom is quaint with new fixtures and plumbing, but it still has the vintage charm that came with the cottage.
Bruno turns the faucet on hot, filling the large clawfoot tub before dropping in a rose bath bomb. You remember when you bought this tub with Bruno; he knew at first glance it was the one, commenting on its size being perfect for both of you. The water turns pink, gentle bubbles mixing on the surface as the bath bomb melts into the water. The scent of roses infuses the air, rose petals expanding from the bath bomb.
You rush to rid yourself of the sopping wet fabric clinging to your body, and Bruno follows suit. Your clothes fall heavily on the ground with a plop. Looking over at him, you see that he’s nearly undressed. His cropped hair sticks to his gorgeous face, skin glistening over his flexing muscles as he removes his shirt. Before you can reach around your back to unclasp your bra, Bruno shoos your hand away and does it for you. He bends down, kissing the irritated skin of your back as he peels the straps from your damp shoulders. Giving the top of your head a smooch, he settles a hand at the small of your back to guide you to the tub.
You let out a satisfied sigh as your calves meet the not-too-hot water, rose petals shifting with your movement. Bruno comes in behind you, instantly wrapping his strong arms around you and pulling you against his chilly broad chest. You settle in his lap, butt on the tub floor with your legs between his outstretched ones. Inhaling the soft rose scent as it wafts through the air, you melt in Bruno’s way of making even the simplest, mundane activities so romantic. Sighing, he lolls his head back against the tall basin, mindlessly caressing your arms under the water.
“Bathing with you is one of my favorite things, amore,” Bruno rumbles, raising his head back up to look down at your head.
You turn around to face him in his lap, smiling. “Me too. I love when you wash my hair.”
Bruno hums, reaching for the shampoo and squeezing some into his palm. He starts lathering up your hair, massaging your scalp before gently washing your ends. It feels so good, it almost has you falling asleep. You watch him methodically wash your hair through lidded eyes, watching his biceps work under his caramel skin. His sapphires drop down to your observing eyes, and he gives you a sexy smile that makes your insides clench.
“Rinse,” he says, dropping his hands into the water to rid himself of the shampoo.
“Thank you,” you softly say, standing up in the tub to turn the showerhead on.
Bruno ogles you, admiring how your body moves under the water. Soft and supple, your body presents itself in a way that makes the Capo want to taste every inch of you. Your breasts have a gentle bounce to them as your arms stretch upward to rinse your hair. The lovely curves of your body lead his amorous eyes down to your pretty pussy. It’s at the perfect height for him to just bury his face in it.
“Ok, your turn, Mr. Buccellati,” you say, squeezing shampoo into your hand before moving to straddle his thighs.
“Mr. Buccellati, hm? Are you Mrs. Buccellati, then?” Bruno slyly questions, an eyebrow quirked up.
Though the two of you have bought homes together and are practically married already, you aren’t. Yet.
Your cheeks heat up at the thought of having his last name, but you put it in the back of your mind, else you’ll just implode on the spot. Scrunching your nose at him, you run your hands through his damp hair with shampoo, catching his strands before massaging his scalp.
“One day,” he answers for you, watching you like you’re someone to worship.
Bruno finds it so adorable to see you struggle to stay on his lap without touching a certain area, which is hard considering his size. He can’t help but let out a hum when your thigh grazes something hot and solid.
When did he get hard?
Scooting back, you focus on washing behind his ears and nape. Under the water, his hands run up your outer thighs and then your ass. Softly, he squeezes your ample flesh before pulling you back against his cock.
You whine, pausing the scrubbing of his scalp. “Bruno, we have to wash up first.”
Chuckling, he steals a kiss from you before standing up and turning the showerhead back on. Your eyes go wide; he’s so unabashed about having his hard cock hang heavily right in front of your face. Daringly, you look up at him, and he’s sporting a filthy little smirk as he already has you in his eyes, expression smoldering like he wants you to taste what’s proudly on display. Your eyebrows furrow, and you look back down to avoid those eyes, catching the way his cock bobs with his movements. Your ears perk up, hearing the water turn off and a cap flipping open.
“Let me wash you, tesoro,” Bruno huskily says, eyes raking across your exposed skin.
You back up against the basin, and he follows you like a predator cornering its prey. His head dips to kiss you, his pillowy lips melding with yours. The kiss is slow and sensual, but quickly turns hungry. Swiping his tongue across your bottom lip, you open up for him. You whimper at the feeling of his velvety tongue invading your mouth. Bruno trails his lathered hands over your shoulders, catching your collar bones with his thumbs as he goes up your neck. He cradles the back of your neck to deepen the kiss, and his free hand slides over one of your breasts. You gasp in the kiss, placing your hands on his toned pecs. Massaging your mound, he pinches your nipple, making you moan in his mouth. You open your eyes to look at him, his fingers rolling your bud between his thumb and index finger as he observes your reactions.
Bruno releases your neck to slide a hand down your stomach and abdomen, stopping right above your pubic mound. Your breath becomes uneven, your chest heaving in anticipation. Dragging his tongue across the breadth of your own tongue, he gives you a filthy kiss to hold onto before diving his hand further. Cupping your pussy, he fits his index and middle finger between your outer and inner labia, eliciting a high-pitched whine from you. Rubbing you up and down, he acts as if he’s washing you, but he’s really just pleasuring you. Ascending your pussy, he caresses your clit with his middle finger, palm against your pubic mound. Your jaw drops, and your eyebrows knit together, breaking the kiss from him so you can breathe.
“I love how you react to me,” Bruno whispers into your ear, kissing it and dragging his lips to your jaw.
Bruno’s breath washes over your ear; you can hear every little hum and groan he makes. Gripping the rim of the tub behind you, he continues to rub your clit from beneath the water. Your back arches off the tub toward Bruno’s chest, clutching his shoulder. Deftly, his fingers flick your clit at a faster pace, and you let out a sharp gasp. Your hips begin bucking up into his hand, and he hums to himself, eyes intently scanning you. Seeing him watch you makes you so hot, wanting nothing more than to touch him, but he’s winding your body taut.
“I wanna touch you,” you mewl, looking pitifully at him as if you’d die if you didn’t have his cock in your hands.
Bruno’s full lips curl in a lopsided grin. “Toccami.” (Touch me.)
Reluctantly leaving your body, he stands up, soap dripping down every crevice his muscles have to offer. Too thick and heavy to point upward, his cock drips with soapy water falling off the head as it faces you. Settling on your haunches, you squeeze body wash directly onto his erect length. Bruno inhales a sharp breath from the cold soap, his girthy shaft bobbing and making you giggle. His cock is so pretty. Completely flushed with a rosy tint, his glossy tip greets you with a fresh bead of precum, the viscous fluid trickling like honey. If Bruno didn’t have any soap on him right now, you’d wrap your lips around him.
From the middle, you bind your fingers around him, your awestruck gaze bound to his face. You spread the body wash along his thick cock, the Capo groaning and throwing his head back. His Adam’s apple bobs, and he quickly decides that he needs to see your sweet little face with his cock in your hands. With his jaw hanging open, Bruno grabs your other hand and guides both of them into a swifter speed. You squeeze him a little tighter, twisting your palms as you jerk him off. Bending down, he snatches your lips in a bruising kiss, groaning into your accepting mouth as you focus on rubbing his tip. You smile against his plump mouth, and he bites your lip before pulling away.
“Facciamo l'amore,” Bruno purrs, lifting you. (Let’s make love.)
Bruno turns on the showerhead behind him. He latches onto your neck and wraps his arms around your front, your back flush against the hard planes of his torso. Beating in tandem with his pulse, his cock presses to your back, imprinting its shape into the heated skin. Hearing the drain open, you look down and see Sticky Fingers unplugging the tub. Shifting backward, he brings you under the running water with him.
While sucking at the sensitive part of your neck, his hands explore the curves of your body. His hands slither from your upper to your inner thighs, large palms encasing you. With two thick fingers, he slides them up your pussy from your dripping entrance to your throbbing clit before encircling it. His left hand comes into your point of view, pushing apart your legs further to make room. As his right hand busies itself by rubbing your clit, his other slips two fingers into you at once. Seeing his hands play with your pussy and the veins scattering under his toffee-toned skin makes you sing with pure delight.
You quickly feel an orgasm approaching, and you dig your nails into his tensing forearms while they cage your body against his. Your knees begin to buckle, and he holds you up by the mere strength of his arms. Bruno knows exactly where he should rub to make you whimper, where he should slip into to make you moan, and how fast he should go to make you cry.
“I’m cumming, Bruno, I’m—”
“Datemelo,” he grunts in your ear, voice rough and deeper than the ocean. (Give it to me.)
Feeling your walls trying to close in on his fingers, you sob, and your body shakes as surges of ecstasy pump into you. Bruno embraces you tightly, feeling your hips rock with the thrusts of his fingers. In the throes of pleasure, your mind is hazy as he gives a final kiss to your neck. Easing his fingers out of you, he brings them to his lips to give them a lick. He salivates as your flavor permeates his taste buds with the sweetest nectar.
Now that the tub is drained, Sticky Fingers plugs the drain, turning the faucet on to refill the bathtub with clean, hot water. The Stand throws in another bath bomb for good measure, making you giggle through your panting.
“Shouldn’t we go to the bedroom?”
“It’d be a shame if I didn’t make love to you in this bathtub, dolcezza.”
Bruno ushers you to the tub floor, pressing your back into the basin with your legs around his waist as he kneels. He kisses your forehead, nose, cheeks, chin, and then your lips.
“Ti amo,” Bruno murmurs against your lips, big sapphire eyes full of adoration.
“I love you,” you respond earnestly, voice breathy and longing.
Bruno ties your arms around his neck and keeps his eyes trained on you, his hair slicked back. Grabbing the base of his cock, he glides the head up and down through your folds. You twitch from the sensitivity of your orgasm, but he ignores the overstimulation and continues to massage your clit.
You hiss, brows scrunching. “Bruno, you’re— mmm.”
Closing your eyes, you moan helplessly into the torrid air.
“I’m what, bella? Am I making your pretty pussy feel good?”
Using his cock head to swirl against your clit, he looks at you with hooded eyelids. Bruno darts his cock lower without warning, seeing your eyes fly open before he goes right back to your clit.
“Bruno,” you let out a frustrated whine, moving your hips to follow his cock.
“La mia dolce ragazza, you are so desperate,” he says mockingly, but his tone is warm and smooth.
Your mouth falls open with a silent plea, and he breathes heavily across your cupid’s bow as he finally slides back to your entrance and penetrates you. Bruno fills you with his several inches, the mere girth of his cock pressing your walls taut. Moaning aloud, you stare at him while he stretches you out on his dick. He grunts, letting go of his cock to place a hand on your hip and another on your upper back to shield you from the hard basin.
“You’re always so tight for me, my good girl,” he coos, bottoming out faster than he usually does.
You never get tired of the burning stretch turning into mind-numbing pleasure. He’s so long and thick that no matter how many times he fucks you.
“You feel so good,” you whimper, your expression pitifully delightful.
Humming, Bruno pulls out and plunges back in, slow and deep. “La tua fica è divina, cara.” (Your pussy is divine, cara.)
Tilting his head, he reels you in for a tender kiss, his tall nose pressing into your cheek.
“How did I get so lucky?” Bruno questions himself, long eyelashes fluttering open to look at your beautiful face.
Fingers flexing over your hip, he gets lost in the feel of your body, trying hard not to fuck you like a madman. Moving to frame your neck with his hand, he rests his cheek on your own, plump lips next to your ear.
“Come ho fatto ad essere così fortunata da avere questa figa stretta tutta per me?” Bruno rephrases the question in Italian, the gruffness in his voice making your pussy clamp down on his dick. (How did I get so lucky to have this tight pussy all to myself?)
Bruno bottoms out with each thrust, making your body jostle with the water. He gawks at where you two are connected, the water making the view disjointed. Roaming his attentive eyes up your body, they pause at your breasts as they bounce on the surface of the bubbly water with each thrust he makes. Greedily, he gropes one of your breasts, the flesh yielding under his rough hand. The way he touches you is like the first time, wanting to explore every stretch of your skin, wanting to learn every little curve again.
Bruno angles his hips differently, hitting your sweet spot and fervently pistoning into your pussy. Your voice is caught in your throat, and you feel yourself reaching the tipping point. He knows he’s got you, the way you pulse around him, the way your moans turn into high-pitched cries. His murky blues are ridden with lust as he devours you with his gaze and body. Looking into his eyes always entrances you with how intense and passionate they can be, how they can say so much without him ever speaking.
“Sei mozzafiato,” Bruno praises, voice low as he slows the roll of his hips before withdrawing. (You are breathtaking.)
You sigh, limbs already tired from his intense actions. Bruno must be some type of god to be able to fuck you this hard in water.
Like a ragdoll, he lifts you and settles you onto your knees.
“Raise your ass for me,” Bruno commands as he watches you arch your back, eagerly presenting yourself for him.
Bruno clenches his teeth, jaw flexing at the view in front of him. Grabbing your ass, he kneads it before spreading it and inspecting your glossy pussy. He observes your empty entrance, quivering with desperation, needing him to stuff his cock back in. The Capo is pleased with how much you need him, and he hums, smacking your ass. Glancing at him over our shoulder, you push your ass closer to him, wanting him to repeat.
“You like that, amore?” Bruno urges, spanking you again.
“Yes. I love whatever you do,” you reply ardently.
Bruno scowls at you and thumbs open your entrance, switching his gaze to your pussy before spitting on it. It’s not like he needs lubrication, given how drenched and literally wet both of you are; he’s just becoming filthier and filthier the more you provoke him. Hastily sheathing himself back in you, he sets a relentless pace with his hands on your hips. His taut balls slap against your clit, his length sliding in and out of you without resistance. Your body is met with such enthusiastic drives that you can barely get a hold of your breathing. The water on your body makes you slip away from him, making him have a brutish grasp on your hips you’re not used to, but already love. Bruno arches over you, clinging to your jerking body. He kisses your skin, trailing his lips down your upper back. Groaning from the tension of your pussy pressing against his cock, he drags the flat of his tongue up your spine, collecting beads of water.
“You always take me well, tesoro,” he rasps into your skin as if to etch his words into your body.
The sound of water constantly spilling over the bathtub is background noise to the vulgar and loud slap of his pelvis hitting your ass.
“Sai quante volte ho pensato di scoparti in questa vasca da bagno?” Bruno says as he snakes a hand up your body, stopping to squeeze your breast until he’s at your throat. (Do you know how many times I’ve thought about fucking you in this bathtub?)
Bruno gently frames the front of your throat, just enough to hold you still.
“I’m going to fill you up with my love,” he says breathlessly as he pounds into you with abandon, ceaselessly hitting your sweet spot.
Your body prickles with the beginnings of a climax.
“Prendi il mio seme, lasciami mettere un bambino dentro di te,” he rambles in your ear, delirium coursing through his veins; he’s utterly besotted. (Take my seed, let me put a baby inside you.)
Splaying a hand on your stomach while hugging you to his body, Bruno imagines what it’d be like if he got you pregnant. Your belly would be round and full, and your breasts would be heavy and swollen, all because of him. The thought proves to be too much as a twinge runs down his length.
Bruno can feel you’re close, so close that your walls have begun to pulsate around him; the mention of getting you pregnant always gets to you. The hand on your hip slips to the apex of your thighs and starts rubbing your clit in circles. You dig your nails into his muscular arms, jaw hanging open as you lose your voice. Tears rim the frame of your eyes as your hips undulate against his pelvis. The pads of his fingers are steady and swift, determined to make the stars kiss you. The tension breaks, and you convulse on his cock, screaming out his name as he frantically hammers euphoria into your body.
“Oh, merda, sì. Squeeze me just like that,” Bruno growls out as he twitches inside of you. (Oh, shit, yes.)
Delivering a few sharp thrusts before slamming into you, he ejaculates inside you. Pushing himself as deep as he can go, he grinds his cock into your quivering pussy, his semen painting and sloshing within your encasing walls. Bruno curses in his mother tongue, nuzzling into your body all the while hugging you as tight as he can, semen dripping out of you.
As the heartbeat in your ears disappears, all you hear is the rain hitting the window and the ragged breaths of your lover from behind.
“Thank you, amore,” Bruno rasps, kissing your shoulder before straightening his spine.
He swallows the thick saliva that has accumulated in the back of his throat and holds your waist still, pulling out slowly. Desirous blues watch your pussy leak his seed. The sight mesmerizes him every time he sees the mixture of your shared love.
Stepping out of the bathtub, Bruno grabs a towel and wraps it around his waist before grabbing another for you. He slings the towel over his shoulder and reaches his arms out for you. Your legs are like jelly as you try to put weight on them, but Bruno’s strength stabilizes you.
“I got you, tesoro,” he coos, his tone loving and patient as you clutch to him.
Wrapping the towel around you, he helps you step out of the bathtub and onto the floor mat. It’s automatic when he lifts you into his arms and carries you bridal style out of the bathroom and into the master bedroom. He’s so warm and soft, you could just fall asleep in his arms as the rain outside pours.
Bruno lays you down like a princess, using his towel to wipe your body down. Repeating the same with himself, he climbs into bed with you and pulls you against his warmer body. You lie in his protective arms, the sound of the rain lulling the two of you into a drowsy state.
“I love being in bed with you, doing nothing but listening to the rain. I love our cozy little life. I love you,” Bruno whispers, running his fingertips across your arm.
You hum in agreement, snuggling closer to his chest. Bruno brushes your damp hair, looking down at your sleepy little face in his arms.
“Dormi bene, stellina,” Bruno whispers, kissing your head before cuddling up to you and drifting off to sleep. (Sleep well, little star.)
(Photo reference used for pose. I wasn’t able to find the original source :(, if anyone knows the photographer or model, please let me know so I can properly credit them!)
W.C. 1.8k
Originally posted on AO3 in 2020 ✧ Masterlist
You toss and turn in bed, missing the familiar warmth of your lover against your back to help you fall asleep. You miss him so much. You turn over and grab your phone, the harsh bright light emitting from it makes your face crinkle. You see the time, 12:30 am. Annoyed and frustrated, you decide to give up and stop trying to fall asleep. As you open your phone to check for any texts, you see that Bruno texted you. He always seems to read your mind. Smiling, you open the text.
Bruno 12:31 am
Are you up, tesoro?
You 12:32 am
Yes, I can’t sleep. How’s the mission going?
Bruno 12:34 am
It’s going well, I’ll be home tomorrow.
Ah, I thought so... I know what can make you fall asleep faster, dolcezza.
You 12:35 am
Oh? What is it?
A picture is sent to you, you open it and immediately your face flushes red hot. Bruno sent you a picture of his shirtless torso, his lips are barely in the frame but you don’t miss how plump and red his lips look as if he’s been biting them. His lithe body is on full display, and it looks like his hand is resting on something that’s out of the frame. Bruno is not the type to sext, he must really miss you. You’re almost too shy and flustered to respond.
You 12:36 am
Oh… you look so beautiful, Bruno. I wish you were here with me instead of in my phone.
Bruno chuckles upon opening your text. He’s actually been having a hard time sleeping as well. He can’t stop thinking about you and missing how your body feels underneath his fingertips, how pretty your moans are when he fucks you. He misses your touch, he misses you.
Bruno 12:37 am
Me too, tesoro. Will you indulge me tonight?
You 12:38 am
Yes of course...I will always indulge you.
Bruno 12:38 am
Oh? How?
You blush even harder at this… you’re not particularly good at flirting or sexting.
You 12:40 am
Mmm well, I would do anything for my Capo…I would start by kissing you, down to your jaw and neck, stopping at your neck to suck at it as I start rubbing you through your underwear.
Bruno sends you something again, but it’s a video. You open it and see that he’s biting his lips deliciously, his hand running down his torso and down to his hard bulge. He’s rubbing himself, hips slightly grinding into his hand as he films himself for you. You can see a prominent outline of his thick cock through his underwear. You whimper, already feeling your slick start to seep out onto your panties.
Bruno 12:41 am
Send me your gorgeous body, bella.
Sitting up against the bed frame, you take off the seemingly overheated blankets. You have on simple lace lingerie, nothing too special as Bruno isn’t home. You try to angle the camera to get the perfect shot. Nothing too lewd or too revealing, just showing off what you’re wearing. You anxiously send it.
Bruno groans, seeing your body in just lingerie has his cock throbbing, god he really misses you. Your body is perfect for him.
Bruno 12:42 am
Sei bellissima, bambina. I want you so bad, I can’t wait to come home and touch you.
You 12:43 am
Please… tell me more.
Bruno 12:44 am
I can’t wait to have you in my arms, to hold you and kiss you. I can’t wait to put my mouth on your body, your neck, your breasts… how I love teasing and sucking at them to hear your pretty moans.
You 12:44 am
Oh, Bruno…please. My body is on fire just thinking about it...
Bruno 12:46 am
I love your body. I love flicking my tongue against your nipples and having you squirm underneath me, how needy you get just from that. Having my hands travel across your body, squeezing everywhere that I can until I reach your panties. Rubbing your needy clit like I always do until you’re begging me for more, oh, tesoro, I can feel just how wet you are right now. I love it when you beg me, do I really have that much power over you? How you beg me to touch you more, to put my fingers in you. Your needy pussy constricting around my fingers so eagerly…
You whine as you read the explicit text, rubbing your thighs together in earnest. Your hands start to wander over your body until you realize you have to reply to him.
You 12:47 am
Please keep going, Bruno. Please I need it…
Bruno smirks, there it is, there’s the begging. This is beginning to be too much for him as he palms himself through his underwear, imagining it’s your small hand over it instead of his.
Bruno 12:47 am
You need it? How much do you need it, cara?
Furrowing your brows, you contemplate once again on what to say. Too shy to say much, you settle.
You 12:48 am
Yes, I need it so bad. I’m so wet, I can feel it soaking my panties.
Bruno sighs at your words, wanting nothing more than to just bury his face into your soaked panties and breathe in your scent.
Bruno 12:48 am
Show me.
Hesitantly, you get into the best position to take a picture. You spread your legs to show your wet panties, putting your hand slightly over them to convey that you’ve been touching yourself. You send it and wait.
Bruno’s pleased with the picture. But he wants more, he’s getting impatient and needy.
Bruno 12:49 am
Strip and show me.
Your breathing gets heavier at the thought of sending a completely nude picture. But Bruno always made you feel safe and comfortable. You take off your bra and panties in a flurry. Lying down on, you squish your boobs between your arms and take the picture. You’re thinking about how you’re going to take the other picture. You angle the camera to your center, lewdly spreading your legs to show off your drenched pussy. This is turning you on more than expected. You send it.
A few minutes pass by and you’re starting to get worried. Does he not like it? Was it too much? Your phone vibrates, it’s Bruno. You open it to see a thumbnail of another video, it’s of his body. Your heart is thrumming as you press play. The camera pans down his body with his hand trailing down it again. He slowly pulls down his underwear, hard cock springing free, he moans as he wraps his hand around it, spreading the beaded precum around with his thumb. You’re shocked but extremely aroused. Bruno is lewder than you thought. Your walls are throbbing and clenching onto nothing, you just want him here. You’re lost in your thoughts until you get a call, it’s Bruno, of course. Texting him was fine but calling him? Oh god, how could you keep your composure? You pick up and immediately hear his panting.
“Bella, mmm, I miss your voice, I miss your body. Touch yourself, now. I need to hear your sweet moans, ” he grunts out.
“Y-Yes, please, I need you. I need your fingers, your tongue on me,” you whine out. You turn the speaker on and place the phone next to your head. You start pinching your nipples how Bruno would and with your other hand, you reach down and drag a finger up your slit, gathering your slick to rub your clit with. You moan aloud.
“Dio mio, that’s it, touch yourself like how your Capo would,” he croons. He moves his hand up and down his length fervently, already feeling close.
“How would my Capo touch me?” You smile, giving him free rein to take control. You rub figure eights around your clit, moaning each time your finger catches the sensitive underside of the hood.
“Well, as I said before, I would sink my fingers into you, thrusting them into you and kiss you, you always love it when I kiss you all the time, and I do too. I would stretch you out for my cock then kiss your entire body until I reach your pussy, mm, your tight, hot, greedy pussy,” he hisses as his grip gets tighter, imagining your tight cunt around it. “I want to bury my tongue into you, tasting you, licking you, until I have you cumming on my tongue, oh, amore, I’m close.”
“I am too. I want you inside me so bad, Bruno, I need you to stretch me and fill me,” you whine.
With two fingers, you plunge them into your wet entrance, trying to imagine it’s his thick cock and not your fingers. You’re so close, your walls clench down onto your fingers as you rub your clit vigorously.
Bruno growls, his movements rushed as he feels his orgasm approaching.
“Ooh, fuck yes. Bella, I want nothing more than to fuck you right now. If it’s stretching that you need then I can give it to you easily. I can stretch you with my cock, fill you up as I pound into you. I know you love my cock so much, so much so that you can never shut your mouth, so pretty and loud just for me. I love it, I love you-,” he groans loudly, on the cusp of cumming, imagining everything that he just told you.
He hears your moans, knowing you’re about to cum.
“Yes, that’s it, cum for me how you always cum around my cock,” he commands.
“Bruno, I’m cumming,” you cry out.
You squeal as your orgasm hits you like a wave, coming and going, your walls convulsing around your fingers as you ride your orgasm.
Your cries push him over with you, too. Grunting and groaning, he jerks himself off hurriedly, his hips bucking upward, abdomen muscles tightening as his ejaculate comes out in ropes over his stomach and hand.
Silence takes over as you two come down from your respect highs. Bruno slowly slides his hand up and down himself, his cum making it easier to languidly jerk himself off. He wishes you could come and clean him up with your tongue. Alas, he won’t be home until tomorrow night.
“Well did you like it, amore?”
“Yes but, I still need you… I need you here. Nothing can compare to you,” you say sweetly.
“I’ll be home tomorrow night, tesoro. Then I will give you all of me. But for now, be a good girl and sleep so you can have the energy for tomorrow,” he says, his smile evident in his voice.
“Fine, I love you so much, goodnight.”
“Ti amo, buona notte, caretta.”
The call ends and you’re too tired to move, let alone get dressed. Slightly satiated and warm, you fall asleep, finally.
Dolcezza - Sweetness
Bambina - Baby girl
Caretta - Sweet girl
Mi manchi tanto - I miss you so much
Reader-insert, Female reader, Explicit Sexual Content, Smut, Dirty Talk, Name calling (use of whore), Praise, Use of Capo, Vaginal Sex, Rough-ish sex, Squirting, Creampie
W.C. 1.3k
AO3 Masterlist
Bruno scoops your pliant and stimulated body into his lap on the couch, your skin burning against his toffee-toned, slickened with sweat, pecs. He perches his upper back on the back cushions and his lower back on the bottom cushions, his ass nearly off the edge as he plants his feet firmly on the living room rug.
“Amore,” he breathes, chest heaving from previously taking you on the kitchen counter. “Hold onto me.”
You do so, knees resting on the cushions beside his hips. You inhale a sharp intake of breath as his hands hug you to his lithe body, thick fingers delving into the flesh of your back and ass. Lifting your cheek, he draws his hips back and sinks you onto him in one smooth glide. You gasp, nails pressing into the meat of his broad shoulders as he fills you up for what seems like the hundredth time tonight. The sensation of your rippling walls sucking him in as he withdraws makes the pulse in his cock and neck quicken. Inhaling through flared nostrils, Bruno kisses your temple before commencing a powerful tempo, continuing where he left off in the kitchen. His deep voice comes out as a hot, silenced groan against your temple as your pussy encases him like a well-fitted glove.
Your cheek grazes his cheekbone as you lift your head to look at him, gasps falling out of your mouth. Dropping a hand down his flexing biceps, you feel a prominent vein pulsing below your fingers. Bruno always looks so good, especially when he’s on top of you or on the side of you, but beneath you is a different story. The gravity pulls his hair back, showing his unseen ears, and his bangs are swept up enough to show more of his shapely, furrowing eyebrows. You can see more of his sun-kissed cheekbones, too, making you want to kiss every inch of them. To have your Capo below you, naked, in your hands, and in you, feels electrifying.
With every minute contortion in your face, Bruno mimics you, rapturous gratification driving him to plunge deeper into you. He captures your lips in a feverish kiss he so desperately needs from you. His hot tongue, the same heat that slipped across your pussy earlier, slithers with your own. The hand on your back slips down your spine, joining his other to squeeze the meat of your ass. While his tongue runs circles in your mouth, he forcefully crashes your hips against his pelvis with a loud smack. You jerk and whine from the recoil of his thrusts, breasts bouncing against his chest. The wet squish between your legs intensifies as he relentlessly propels his cock inside of you, your slick dripping down his balls.
Bruno peeks at you through long lashes, his lids lazy over his sapphire eyes. How he loves watching you when he makes love to you, how he loves obsessing over every minute detail of your reactions; they’re all his to keep, forever. The hold on your ass tightens, turning into an iron clasp of his grabby fingers splaying across the expanse of your skin, getting as much fat into his palms as possible.
The thickness that stretches your walls and the length that spears you deep exceed your body’s limits as he bumps against your cervix. Bruno holds you captive in his diligent frame, his thick cock massaging every single sweet spot within you. Urgent, short moans echo into his mouth, his tongue licking at the sweet sounds.
Breaking the kiss, he licks over his teeth and looks at you with resolve. Eyes sharp with a scowl that could kill, his thrusts accelerate with a major crash of his hips that rips the air out of your lungs. You scramble to cling to him, blinding pleasure etching itself into your brain. Tears rim your eyes, nails scratching up the muscles of his arms. Bruno rolls his hips in deliberate, quick successions while maintaining his grasp on your ass to bring you down onto his solid cock. Grunting with each end of a lunge, his nails begin to break your skin in small, red crescent shapes. You glance between your connected bodies, feeling a sense of urgency rushing through you. Unconsciously, you try to push away from him, but he retains control. Bruno knows what you truly want, knowing when the pleasure is immense, it startles you. Clenching his jaw, he keeps the punishing pace that promises to make you explode.
“Bruno,” you lament his name, squirming as the intense feeling inside your womb staggers you.
Knowing what your body is about to do, he ignores your refusals and fucks you even harder.
“Puoi farlo, amore,” he eggs you on with a deep, velvety murmur. (You can do it, love.)
You gasp, wailing out, shocking Bruno with the pitch of your tone. His jaw slackens as he watches you spurt around his cock and vein-riddled abdomen. Droplets gleam upon his flexing abs, your uncontrollable hip movements making you ride his cock to meet him halfway as pleasure booms through you. Feeling a rush of liquid fight for space inside you, he quickly holds you by the waist and pulls you off of him. Little droplets escape you as your hips rock in the air from your hard release.
“Sì,” he praises with pride booming in his resounding voice. “Che brava ragazza che sei, vieni sul cazzo del tuo Capo come una puttana.” (What a good girl you are, cumming on your Capo's cock like a whore.)
Hypnotized, Bruno watches you cum, heart racing so fast it has no defined beat as he falls in love with you all over again. Drowning in bliss while your eyes roll back, your back arcs away from him. Your breasts bounce from the recoil of your body’s tremors, hips jittering as your pussy leaks like a faucet, the fluid beading on the hard planes of his defined abs. His tongue salivates with a need to bury it in your sweet, soaked cunt; how he’d love to taste your release.
A twinge runs down his cock betrayingly, seeing you squirt like this maddens him so much so, he’s ripping at the seams himself. Urgently, Bruno grabs the base of his heavy cock and brings it to your twitching entrance, penetrating you through your orgasm. You cry out, a pathetic expression on your face as you look down at him, nails marking their territory on his pecs. Before he’s able to bury himself balls deep, he ejaculates mid-thrust from the spasms still surging through your pussy. Inherent instincts enrapture him, his cock propelling up into you at a speed that makes you lose your voice.
“Oh cazzo,” he curses, shooting ropes upon ropes into your accepting womb. Bruno grits his teeth and lets out a deep, vibrating groan. “Fottutamente perfetta. Ti amo, ti amo tanto—“ (Oh fuck.) (Fucking perfect. I love you, I love you so much.)
Grabbing the back of your neck, he smashes your mouth onto his in a hard but passionate kiss.
“Ti amo cuore mio. Sei così sexy quando lo fai,” he mumbles in the kiss, biting your bottom lip. (I love you, my heart. You’re so sexy when you do that.)
Your heart blooms with a rush of euphoria, endorphins swimming in your veins as you rest on Bruno’s heaving chest.
“I love you, too, bello,” you rasp, your voice too weak to be louder than a whisper. (Bello, a masculine form of bella.)
Bruno presses a smile to your lips, renewing the kiss with a satisfied hum. Lashes that are far too long, they tickle your own as they flutter open. His blues captivate you once more, pulling you deeper into them than you were just moments ago.
“Pensi di poterlo fare di nuovo per me, amore mio?” He asks with an amused, lazy smirk, the tips of his fingers brushing your back. (Do you think you can do that again for me, my love?)
i just got inspo to finish a Bruno WIP ive been having in my drafts since 2021 🧍♀️hopefully it will be up very soon <3 im so excited to see my Bruno lovers ahhh
blakekathryn
annaxmalina
stormborns
ellievsbear
tangentwithtanner
