I do ignore certain canon things because I like my little delulu world a bit more than the canon (〃´∀｀)
Here are my ground-rules for asks🩷 Love you!
Key:
☁️: Fluff
😏: Suggestive, not NSFW
🔞: NSFW
😭: Angst
COD: MW2 / COD: MW3
Simon 'Ghost' Riley Masterlist
Johnny 'Soap' MacTavish Masterlist
Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick Masterlist
'Captain John Price Masterlist
141 Masterlist
Konig Masterlist
Witch and her Knights Masterlist
James Cameron's Avatar
Na'vi Anthropologist!Reader Masterlist(s)
How the Sullys react to you fainting ☁️
Neytiri Tries Something New: Jake Sully x Neytiri x Reader🔞
got carried away again but didn't wanna make a pt.3 so enjoy!! <3
꧁ ༺ ⚜ ༻ ꧂
it's been two weeks since you've spoken to Satoru and your so-called friends. you've called your friends countless times; begging for an explanation but it seems they have given up on you.
you see them in class every day, but they make sure you don't get a chance to speak to them. they all arrive late, (despite your terrifying professor) and run out the door. not even exaggerating, they sprint out.
at first, you were in denial. you thought they were busy, but you saw them on Instagram, hanging out as if you never existed. when they weren't responding to texts, you resorted to commenting on their story's.
kind of desperate, you knew that, but they were your friends. your only friends. but even commenting petty remarks on their story's didn't work. all they did was remove you from their page, one even blocked you.
your life became a routine of waking up, throwing on whatever clothes you see in your closet, going to class, then going home and rotting in your bed.
you lay in bed, staring at your ceiling, wondering what you did that was so bad. you replay all the times they've look at you weirdly, but they never said anything. you pick apart your brain for hours, thinking about what was so wrong with you.
i mean, you've changed yourself entirely. that's what they wanted right? you changed your entire wardrobe, caked your face in makeup and wore uncomfortable shoes. all because you wanted to fit in.
Satoru was right. why were you trying so hard to fit in with people who don't give a fuck about you. you're done with them. you're done with pleasing people without caring about what you want.
you remember all the people you've tormented. you wanted to fit in so bad that you made fun of whoever your "friends" said to. you were practically a puppet to them. their approval felt like heroin, you weren't used to having anyone, so you did anything to stay with them.
you reach for your phone and track down every single person you've made fun of. it wasn't hard at all, you remembered every single person because you felt so guilty. of course, you can't blame it all on those girls since you're a grown adult, but this is your way of holding yourself accountable.
most didn't respond but you didn't care. you wouldn't respond either if your bully suddenly had a "change of heart". there was one more person that you needed to apologize to. Satoru Gojo.
you basically already apologized to him, but it felt right to send him a text. you find his account almost immediately since his handle is just his name. thank goodness, his account isn't private. you shoot a quick text.
hey, Satoru. it's me, I just wanted to apologize again for being such a bitch to you. you didn't deserve it; no one did and i hope you can forgive me.
he sees it right away.
are you finally being honest with yourself?
im definitely trying to be. thank u for being honest with me.
he leaves you on seen but you feel a weight being lifted off your chest. you can breathe a little easier, your shoulders are no longer tense and for the first time in a while, you sleep like a baby.
the next day, you decide to wear your glasses. you honestly hated your contacts, they dried your eyes out like crazy, and you struggled taking them out every single time.
you put your hair in braids, put on a jean skirt with an off the shoulder sweater. you dig out the sneakers from the back of your closet; your feet almost cry out in relief at the sight of sneakers instead of a heel.
you felt like yourself before you were influenced by those girls. yes, you were alone, but you learned that being alone was better than being surrounded by fake people.
you walk into class 10 minutes early, giving yourself enough time to settle down. you take out more supplies than you need but it felt good to be prepared for once. you chose a seat that was next to the wall, the most comfortable seat in the entire class you thought.
5 minutes later, Satoru walks in. you send him a little smile before gluing your eyes to your blank notebook page. to your surprise, he takes a seat right next to yours. you specifically chose this seat because it was far enough from him and those girls.
you watch him shrug off his bag in confusion.
"you're going to sit here?"
"it's not taken, is it?"
"no, but you don't sit here?"
"not sure it's your business, baby."
your face flushes red, him calling you baby brings you back to that day where he had his hands on your body. your mind almost forgot about it; occupied with girl drama but of course, he had to remind you.
you study him. how can he act so casual when he touched you like that? it looks like it didn't affect him at all. no fair. it's like he sat next to you to distract you. you couldn't focus on the lecture at all. you try writing notes but all you can think about are his hands. the hands that are writing notes mindlessly right next to you.
the entire lecture goes like this. it's crazy how much he affects you. why are you just noticing how attractive he is? he's dressed in a hoodie and sweatpants every day, but he still looks like a dream. his glasses have clear frames that compliment his features like they were made for him.
he's so calm. it makes you angry for some reason.
the lecture ends in a flash; you pack up quietly, hoping Satoru leaves before you do. too bad for you, he's moving like a snail, taking his sweet ass time. there's only so many pencils you can stuff in your bag one by one, so you decide to leave first.
you take one step out the room when you see them. the girls that you used to stick to. they stared at you as if you were an alien. why weren't they gone yet? whatever, just get yourself home.
"hey. hope you've been doing well." one girl snickers.
just walk away. just go.
"did you really think you were one of us? honestly, we don't know how you snaked your way in." their heads are thrown back in laughter. they're treating you the way you treated your classmates.
you're crying. full tears streaming down your face. you try to wipe your tears away, so they don't see you crying, but it's too late.
"HAHA are you seriously crying? grow the fuck up, loser."
did they wait outside just so they could be cruel to you? you can't help but think you deserve it. this is how those people felt when you came around. you push open the doors that lead to the parking lot.
great. it's raining.
you don't have a car; you walked to class and walked home every day. how convenient for you. at least your tears can be disguised as raindrops.
you reach for your keys inside your bag but since your hands are wet and slippery, they fall to the floor. just when you thought your day couldn't get any worse, you happen to be standing right on top on a sewer drain.
you watch your key laugh at your pain while drowning in rainwater. this really was your karma. you deserved this. this is what you get. there's no way you could get them yourself.
you stand there sobbing. you regret changing yourself. you regret becoming friends with those girls. you regret hanging on to something that wasn't real. you have no one. you're all alone.
"just gonna stand there and cry all day?" you feel a hoodie being placed on your already soaked head. you don't need to turn around to see who it is.
"i'm fine. just go."
"i just saw, what i can assume were your house keys, fall inside the drain."
you let out a laugh but you're unsure what's funny.
"look, you can stay over at my place until you figure out what to do, okay?"
you finally look at him. your glasses hiding your red eyes.
"why're you being so nice? i-i don't deserve it."
without a word. he drags you to his car. he opens the passenger door and pushes you inside. he quickly goes to the other side and settles down himself. he turns up the heat all the way.
you two drive about 15 minutes out before he parks outside an apartment building.
"you don't have to do this, i'm okay—"
"shut up." he says.
you do what he tells you to do. you get out the car and follow him inside the building. you take the elevator to the 12th floor, and he leads you to his apartment 3 doors down. his apartment is clean, nothing out of place and it smells just like him.
he heads to a separate room and throws you an oversized shirt and some sweats.
"go change. restrooms down the hall."
you're all changed when you walk to his room where he's at. he's sitting at his desk, studying. the shirt could be a dress, and the sweatpants would fall off with a simple jump.
"is it okay if i sit on your bed?"
"whatever."
you took 4 careful steps to reach his bed. you sit down on his soft comforter; making sure not the mess up his made bed. just by sitting down, you can tell his bed would feel like sleeping on a cloud.
God, you're so tired, your eyes are so swollen and puffy, your glasses still stained with water, but you don't bother wiping them off. your eyes are so heavy.
just a quick nap, surely Satoru would wake you up.
8 hours you're awaken by the sound of a keyboard clicking. Satoru's still on his desk; studying, you assume. his shirt is off for some reason, and you see his back muscles under the dim shine from his desk lamp.
you look at his nightstand clock, and it reads 2:23am. you haven't even planned how you'll get inside your home. but that's the least of your worries, Satoru looks so damn good. gray sweatpants hanging loose on his hips.
you get up and stand behind him like a creep.
"finally awake, hm?"
"why didn't you wake me up?"
"i was busy."
you're unsure what your next move is. he hasn't kicked you out, so that's a good sign. you should definitely text your mom to give you her spare key but you're in a trance; staring at Satoru's back.
"why're you so nice to me?"
"i told you i felt bad for you." he says simply.
"and i told you that i was fine."
his fingers stop typing on his keyboard and he spins around to meet your eyes. for once, he's looking up at you.
"was i supposed to leave you out there? in the rain? crying like a baby?"
"don't i deserve it? i was so mean to you—"
"baby, i promise you, that didn't affect me at all." he interrupts.
"then why did you pull me into the janitor closet that day?"
"why? can't stop thinking 'bout me?" he mocks.
"you're such an ass."
he grabs your ass roughly and pulls you into his lap. you adjust yourself; now straddling him. you're so close to him, so close to your lips meeting his.
"say sorry."
"i-i already did?"
he picks you up, sits down on his bed before putting you across his lap; you're laying stomach down on his legs.
"what are you doin—AH."
the motherfucker spanked you.
"say sorry." he demands.
"you're a fucking freak—OW."
"mmm, you're supposed to be apologizing, baby." he's caressing your ass, attempting to soothe the burn.
"i told you i already did—FUCK." he slaps your ass 3 times this time. he isn't holding back.
"say sorry before you won't be able to sit tomorrow."
there's a moment of silence before you give in.
"i-im sorry."
"for what?"
"f-for being mean to you."
"good girl. don't do that again, okay?"
you're so turned on. it's like you're under a spell whenever he touches you. he's not making any other moves to touch you; just caressing your ass. dangerously close to your pussy.
"p-please." you quietly beg.
"what does my baby want?"
"touch me, please." your desire to be touched outweighs the embarrassment.
you're flipped onto your back and Satoru stares at you with a blank expression. your eyes watery from the spanking.
"have you earned it?"
"yes?"
"how do i feel about liars?"
"you hate them?"
"so, why're you still lying to my face?" he tuts. he looks gorgeous on top of you. hair messy and glasses on the verge on falling. so beautiful, so dangerous.
"make me feel good and maybe i'll touch you." he falls on his knees, and you stare at him in disbelief. his happy trail peeking out of his gray sweatpants, your mouth drools at the sight.
you reach over and grip his cock softly. he lets out a quiet hiss but lets you do your thing. you're rubbing him up and down through the cloth, taking your time with him.
you take his dick out and he's already hard for you; all for you. you spit on his tip before giving little licks on his base. you finally put him in your mouth. he shivers when he feels your warm, wet mouth surround him.
Satoru was never a patient man. maybe that's something you should've known before taking your sweet time with him, but you live and you learn.
you feel him grip your throat with his hands before shoving his entire length down your throat. you gag repeatedly but that doesn't stop him, he's groaning at the sight of you choking on his cock. you tap his thigh, telling him you need a break. you gasp for air while he stares at you with lust.
"so pathetic. can't handle a few seconds of me in your throat and you want me to touch you?" he laughs in your face.
"can you even handle me, baby?"
"i can. please. please touch me." you beg.
he lifts you up before placing you on top of his wet cock. you're still clothed, but you're so, so close to getting what you want. you're back to straddling him but this time, he doesnt have his sweatpants covering him.
"work for it then, yeah? ride me." he folds his arms behind his head while he watches you in anticipation. he's incredibly built; you can tell he's spent hundreds of hours in the gym. you peel his sweatpants off your body, leaving the giant shirt on your body. you aren't wearing anything underneath his pants.
you line his cock up with your entrance and hiss at the stretch. you bite your bottom lip, trying to contain the moans that threaten to leave your mouth. Satoru doesn't seem to be doing much better than you. his eyes are shut tightly and his bottom lip also being bitten.
it takes some time before he's completely inside you. you've learned he doesn't like waiting so you start bouncing up and down; beginning a comfortable pace for you.
"shiiiit, 'toru s-so big~" your mouth wide open, and just like that, you forget everything that happened to you earlier.
Satoru reaches under your his shirt and rubs your nipples; sending a shock down to your core, adding on to the pleasure. you regret skipping leg day, your thighs burn and you try to keep up but you can't. he pinches your left nipple, telling you to keep going.
"w-wait. give me a minute—"
your words interrupted by Satoru harshly thrusting up in you. he's so deep. his hands holding you up effortlessly and slams you back down on his cock.
plap plap plap along with your loud moans and Satoru's soft grunts echo around the room. he's so impatient, he couldn't give you 5 seconds to breathe. you fall limp on his chest, just taking it like the good girl you are.
"fuuuck. you're so wet for me, honey. do you feel how deep I am? i know you do. tell me how good it feels." he's whimpering. the quiet boy you used to bully is whimpering for you.
"h-hold on. i-it feels like i need to pee. wait—AH" you're gushing all over him, clear liquid covers you and Satoru, adding onto the wetness between your thighs.
"goddamn, baby. you're gonna kill me." he groans.
you're once again flipped onto your back, ankles next to your ears and Satoru enters you with one swift motion. he brings his right hand down to rub your clit, making your legs shake.
"give me one more, baby. just one more, for me. can you do that?" he doesn't give you a choice.
it doesn't take you long to squirt all over him again.
"gonna fill you up 'kay? gonna make you all mine, sweets." he fills you up with his warm cum, mixing with your squirt. your legs don't stop shaking. his fingers still slowly swiping left and right on your clit.
"so good for me." he kisses your forehead while you drift off to sleep.
꧁ ༺ ⚜ ༻ ꧂
constructive criticism is always welcome! this is maybe the 4th time i've written smut so i'd love to know what i can do better.
@lalafreak @tipteaser67 @zincerity @pounay hope u guys enjoy this one <33
fratjo! fucking the brat out of you after ‘flirted’ with another guy (๑ᵔ⤙ᵔ๑)
smut, MDNI! you will be blocked. cw: hair pulling, name calling ‘slut’, ‘whore’, slight slapping, pounding, brat taming
masterlist
“fuck yeah, take my dick baby.”
which was what satoru was moaning into your ear. hand fisting into your hair he pulled your head up, tugging harshly while his hand snaked around your neck. “what were you jus’ saying, angel? you were only talking to him because he needed help?”
“y-yes! fuck.. yeah! i-i wasn’t -mnghhhh- i wasn’t flirting w-with him!” you could only moan. satoru’s cock was filling you up soooo good. his hand tightened around your neck and he pulled your hair back harder, causing your back to arch deliciously. “mmm.. look at that. being so good while i fuck the brat outta you-“ he breathes into your ear, pulling his cock out.
just when you think you have a minute to breathe, he slams in so deep he’s reached your stomach. “holy shiiitttt! satoruuu… i wasn’t flirting!-“
tears filled your eyes. it was too much. he was fucking your pussy so deliciously all the while choking you and pulling your hair back.
suddenly, he flips you on your back. “i’m sooo sorry baby,” he mocks with faux guilt. “am i being mean? that’s too bad..” he gently strokes your cheek before placing a delicate but sharp slap on the apple of your skin. feeling heat blossom under your skin, you feel your pussy growing wetter and wetter. “sato.. don’t tease-“
“why, pretty girl? is that pussy getting wetter for me?”
he smirks. fuck. he’s sooo cocky and arrogant. before you could speak or whine, his large fingers slid between your folds, collecting your slick. “shitttt. getting slapped got you this wet? you’re a dirty fucking slut, aren’t you? just begging for my cock to split you open.”
he shoved the two fingers into your mouth, his fingertips reaching your tonsils. you gagged. he pushed deeper. your tongue wrapped around his slick covered digits, sucking off your moisture from his skin. “good girrrllll. suck your juices off my finger. such a fuckin’ whore.”
he starts to pound you again. but this time better. deeper. pushing your thighs up he folds you in half, puffy pussy lips squashed against the skin of your thighs. “such a pretty pussy. mine to fuck. yeah, tell me your mine.”
“yours! fuck.. mnghhh, all yours!”
“will you ever talk to that dick again?”
“no! just you!”
“good girl,” he smiles affectionately and begins to thrust again.
you got injured in a mission and you tried to hide it from them.
ft. nanami, gojo, sukuna, higuruma
sorcerer!reader
summary : in a moment of carelessness you were attacked by a weak curse, leaving a mild injury on your arm. out of pride and maybe shame you decided to not tell your boyfriend about it after you got it patched. but do they really not know?
nanami kento
“isn’t it a bit warm for sweater love?” he asked after you greeted him at your door, ushering him in as he sat next to you at the couch, your favorite show playing on the television.
“a little,” you replied, yet not making any move at all to take it off, trying your hardest to focus on the moving object that’s being played on the screen despite the intense stare of your boyfriend who looked like he hadn’t taken his eyes off of you ever since he got there. it was like you’re currently under his microscope and you’re scared to move, revealing the wound you’re currently hiding from the man.
“you’re really planning not to tell me at all,” he asked, although his tone made it as though it was a declaration. a question that had been answered even without you saying anything, a conclusion he had arrived at after seeing your damning silence.
“tell you what?” you still attempted at playing dumb even though the ruse is out and you had a feeling that nanami had known about it after all. the blond brought his hand up to pinch his nose bridge, a tired expression fell upon his face, the lines on his features seemed tense.
“come here, let me take a look at your arm,” nanami exclaimed softly, making it clear the displeasure he had was never pointed at you, only to himself, for being so oblivious about the pain you’re in. you relented easily, the gentleness on his voice felt like a warm blanket that’s inviting you to lie under it.
he folded the fabric softly, grimacing at the neatly wrapped bandage over your skin.
“does it hurt a lot?” he asked, brows furrowed so deep as he looked at you.
“shoko patched it all up, i’m fine ken,” you replied, wanting to ease the man’s restlessness, his whole body was practically radiating with worry.
“why didn’t you tell me?” he asked, there’s a hint of unsavoriness in his tone, burying something unpleasant within.
“you’re mad,” you said, like it’s a statement.
“maybe, but not at you. never at you,” nanami muttered quietly, being quite obvious that he was referring to himself. “i should’ve noticed sooner.”
“stop that,” you stated promptly, before his mind could came into any other wrong and ridiculous assumptions. “it’s my fault, i should’ve told you i know i should’ve but i was just embarrassed, i guess. the reason i got this injury in the first place was because i was being too reckless,” you explained softly, slowly pulling back your folded sleeve, wanting to hide it from your vision, shifting the attention to something else already.
nanami stared at you for a second longer before grabbing your other hand.
“come here,” he said, pulling you into his lap so you’re straddling him. you put both hands on his shoulder as you did so, refusing to meet his eyes. the blond did not let you do that for long as he cupped your face softly, leading your gaze to his.
“accidents happen, love. you pulled through, finished your mission even when pushed to the corner and i couldn’t be more proud of you. and you should be too,” he affirmed, kissing the tip of your nose. the tenderness made your stomach churn, to think you’re loved this much by the man in front of you somehow made you all mushy, melting into his embrace as you rest your head on his shoulder.
“so you don’t think i’m incompetent?”
“never. a little clumsy and somehow more often than not reckless? maybe. but you’re fully capable of handling your job.”
you smiled at his playful dig, appreciating how nanami made an effort to keep the conversation light.
“i love you.”
“and i love you. so please take better care of yourself next time alright?”
gojo satoru
“show me.”
“show you what?”
“baby i’d normally love to play along but not this time, not when you’re clearly injured and you’re trying to hide it from me,” gojo said, his usual playful tone was nowhere to be found, instead replaced by a tone you seldom hear from the man.
you pulled your sleeve, knowing there was no way you can hide it anymore from him--no, in the first place you didn’t even know what you were thinking, expecting the six-eyes haver to just let you get away with it.
now that your boyfriend’s easygoing demeanor was gone, you found yourself with no words, knowing that the man who looked like he was about to throw up out of concern wasn’t in any mood to fill the room with jokes and laughter. you tensed up, your body adjusting to the gravity of the situation.
“fuck, are you good baby? this looks bad, does this look bad? what did shoko say? how long do you need to wear this?” he rambled, and your heart stuttered at his agonized expression.
“i’m fine toru, shojo said it’s not that bad. see? she patched me up nicely,” you whispered, putting a hand atop of his trembling fingers, who’s currently handling you like you’re about to fade away.
“right, okay, that’s good,” he took more deep breaths, his chest heaved like the air wasn’t really going into his body properly. “i’m sorry i wasn’t there with you. no, that came out wrong. i know you can handle yourself baby but--fuck, i can’t stand seeing you hurt like this,” he said, conflicted.
“i know, toru. it was my fault, i was getting cocky and the curse caught me off guard. it was kinda embarrassing to be honest so i’m glad you weren’t there or else you’ll get the ick,” you said, attempting to make light of the situation. anything to make him throw away the ‘it’s the end of the world’ look.
at that gojo smiled weakly, kissing your face softly.
“yeah? i love you baby but unfortunately there isn’t really anything you can do to give me the ick. you’re stuck with me,” he replied matter of factly, like it’s the most obvious conclusion to the conversation. “so you’re okay? is anything hurting?” he scanned you once more, making sure you’re not putting up a fake front.
“i’m fine, a little hungry though.”
“alright let me handle it, food and cuddles are coming.”
“i only said i was hungry?”
“food and cuddles are coming baby, the latter is more for me but still. please, let me have it.”
sukuna
“let me have a look,” sukuna said a second after your front door closed, approaching you with menacing steps.
“at what?”
“i’m not going to ask twice,” he walked closer.
“okay okay!” you showed the man your bandaged arm, the man looked at it closely as he held your wrist gently despite his rigid tone when he spoke. “you could be nicer about it you know,” you snided with a pout.
“and you could’ve paid more attention and not get hurt but here we are. we can’t always get what we want can we?” he said gruffly, the grumpy man continued to inspect your injury with a focus exceeding that of a hawk.
you smiled despite his harsh words, knowing he was probably worried out of his mind, probably more than you.
“and you have treated this properly?”
“yeah, it’s all good now,” you claimed, the apparent frown on his face only amused you more.
“be more careful, do you not value your own life?” sukuna scolded with a scoff.
“i do! can’t exactly leave you all alone, you’ll be devastated without me.”
“if you know that already then don’t get hurt again.”
higuruma hiromi
“i should tell you right now you’re not doing a good job of hiding it from me,” higuruma spoke, worry painted all over his face as he stared at you.
“hide what?” you attempted, even though you knew it was futile. the man only walked closed as response, grabbing your arm gently as he folded your sleeve to see the injury.
“your moved your arm like it was made out of stone,” he mumbled, putting your hand on his thigh as he inspected it even though there was no visible wound as you had it patched already hours ago. still, higuruma didn’t let up. “why? why did you hide it from me sweetheart?”
“don’t know, i’m just ashamed i guess. they gave me a pretty easy mission but i still messed it up,” you mumbled, loving the softness of his touch as he tucked your hair behind your ear, giving you his full and undivided attention.
“you didn’t ‘mess’ anything up, you finished the task that was given to you. but you have to understand that sometimes casualties are unavoidable. you saw it through the end even after you got hurt, and that speaks volume about you as a sorcerer,” he explained, patting his lap subtly, inviting you to lie on it.
and you did exactly that. his scent filled your nose as though telling you that you’re finally home.
higuruma gave your side temple a soft kiss. “please let me be the one to know if something like this happens again darling, i want to be someone you can rely on in any situation.”
“i do rely on you. too much, i feel like.”
“never. there is no too much when it comes to you.”
sooo I got this super cool idea for a poly Jake, Neytiri, and reader. Like a sick day (for any of them) and it's just super fluffy and a lot of comfort (I have strep rn 😭 what an inspo)
sick daze | jake sully x fem!omatikaya!reader x neytiri
a/n: i’m so sorry you’re sick!! hopefully this can bring you some comfort. i hope you feel better! 💐
cw: established poly relationship, sick fic, mostly fluff, neytiri and jake take good care of you as always, fluff, comfort
wc: 0.8k
masterlist • ao3
“hey baby, gotchu some more soup. this should help.” jake situates himself by his sick mate, y/n. poor thing was very ill.
jake never left her side. neytiri hovered. her heart was worried. she knew y/n would pull through and be just fine but the thought of her mate being even remotely discomforted, made her uneasy.
“ma’jake, you must let y/n rest.” neytiri orders. “she needs her strength, you distract her.”
jake, snuggling close to y/n sighed. “neytiri… i’ll be fine.”
neytiri sighs and puts a hand on her hip. “why do you do this jake? our mate is sick she needs us to be strong for her right now.”
“i know but she-“
“jake, i will survive without snuggling for a while. help our wife. i’ll still be here.” y/n sighs and closes her eyes. jake runs a hand over her eyelids sighing.
“just worried about you baby.” he grabs y/n’s hand and kisses it. “i’ll just be right over there.” y/n does her best to nod her response. the exhaustion of her body not quite letting her move as much as she would like.
jake leaves y/n and joins neytiri.
neytiri went to her mother and collected different flowers, herbs, moss, and bark to help with y/n’s sickness. neytiri recalls how her had heart raced telling mo'at y/n’s symptoms. mo'at had calmed her daughter.
“she is a strong woman. this sickness will not last beloved daughter. have faith in eywa.”
“i do mother. i just worry,” neytiri responds, her eyes furrowed. she rubs her eyes. “i hate seeing her like this.”
“go home child, go be with your family. if she’s any worse, bring her directly to me.”
mo'at’s words echo in neytiri’s head. she bit her lip as she peeled bark, and cuts herbs, mutttering under breath.
her eyes drifted to y/n. asleep, under many blankets, she looked at peace. neytiri gives a smile. at least she was resting now.
a gentle hand takes the blade from her hands. jake’s. she looks to him.
“you’re worried.” he observes.
“of course i am. y/n has been ill for days now, nothing seems to be working. if anything happens i-“
“neytiri, breathe.” he wraps his arms around her waist. “if it gets so bad we can take her to see norm-“
“no! no, i want to be the one to heal her. she needs us jake.”
jake nods and kisses her cheek. “alright. i won’t take that away from you. he’s just an option.”
neytiri looks down. “i-thank you jake. it hurts to see someone you love in pain, even if just sick.”
“of course it is-“
a sudden cough interrupts them. neytiri gasps and gathers her small woven baskets and crouches down by y/n.
“my heart, here,” neytiri gives y/n a cup of cold water. y/n drinks it down greedily.
“thank eywa for that.”
neytiri smiles. she picks through her baskets. she pulls out some moss she had cut earlier.
y/n my heart, i need you to suck on this. it will help your throat.”
y/n rubs her forehead and groans. “must i neytiri? it tastes so bad.”
“i know this y/n but-“
“but we want you to get better baby.” jake interrupts. “quicker you listen to neytiri quicker we can go ride our ikrans again.”
y/n slumps back down and groans. “finnnneee!”
neytiri smiles in victory. y/n leans up again and neytiri gently places the moss in y/n’s mouth. “not for long ma’y/n.” she kisses y/n’s forehead.
“there’s a good girl,” jake encourages. y/n shoots a moss-filled-mouth-glare at jake. they all laugh. “we’re gonna get you feeling better y/n.” says jake.
“and i won’t leave your side until you are well. neither of us will.”
y/n can’t help the smile on her face now. she nods, feeling the love in their words. she knew she was in good hands.
jake curls in behind y/n and wraps and arm around her waist, resuming his position before. y/n’s tail wrapped around his leg. he brushed her arm with his thumb comfortingly.
“here,” neytiri gives y/n a small bowl. she gestures for y/n to spit out the moss. the sick na'vi does.
“there all done. you did it.” neytiri smiles and praises y/n.
neytiri rubs y/n’s cheeks. she goes in for a kiss. y/n backs up.
“‘tiri, i do not want to get you ill!” y/n protests.
neytiri only laughs. “you could do no such thing. if i want i kiss my woman i will-“
“wait, hang on! you can kiss her but i can’t cuddle her?” jake boldly interrupts.
y/n nods. “yes that is the rules. i thought you knew the rules jakesully.”
jake laughs and hides his head in y/n shoulder. “careful you might get sick too,” y/n advises.
“don’t care. nothing will keep me from loving you, either of you. not even a stupid cold baby.”
do not feed or use my shit for ai. do not upload on other platforms. pics found on Pinterest
Content warning: satoru x suguru x reader, established polycule, MMF threesome, porn w/no plot, unprotected p in v, anal (f recieving), multiple rounds, m receiving oral, squirting, eiffel tower position, spanking, top!satosugu, sloppy makeout, pet names like princess, pretty girl yada yada
*NOT APART OF THE MINISERIES BTW
If there was one thing you learned about living with your boyfriends Satoru and Suguru, it was that the two perverts couldn’t keep their hands to themselves. And what started as a casual rewatch of Legally Blonde didn't take long to turn depraved. With Satoru's lips quickly finding your neck and Suguru's hands drifting towards the soft skin of your waist.
Now you'd forgotten the clock hours ago, caught up in the smooth sound of Satoru's arrogant voice and feeling the grip of Suguru's tight hold, the three of you making love like you'd done this a thousand times, because at this point you probably had.
Suguru's cock plunged into your aching pussy. Each thrust deep and hard, stretching your walls tight around him. The burn felt so good, that full pressure hitting your core over and over. You stayed on elbows and knees, ass pushed back as his hips smacked yours with a loud slap slap slap. Wetness dripped down your thighs from how soaked you were, balls slapping against your ass.
Meanwhile Satoru had his own dick hovering right at your lips. Utterly hard and leaking precum from the slit. Veins stood out along the shaft, pulsing with his heartbeat. "Suck it, princess," he said, voice low and demanding. He gripped the base and rubbed the head over your mouth, smearing the salty substance on your tongue.
You opened wide, letting him slide in slow. The weight settled heavy, filling your mouth as you sealed lips around him and sucked. Spit built quick, running down your chin. You worked your tongue flat under him, tracing the ridge while bobbing forward.
Suguru grunted behind you, hands clamping your hips. "Fuck, your pussy doesn't want me to let go, huh," Suguru sped up, the thwacking of skin growing faster as his cock dragged along your insides. The friction sparking heat that coiled low in your gut.
You moaned around Satoru, the hum making him buck. He grabbed your hair loose, guiding your head. "Yeah, just like that. Take more, angel." He pushed deeper, tip nudging your throat. You gagged soft, eyes watering, but relaxed to let him in. The stretch in your jaw ached sweet, his precum bitter on your tastebuds.
Suguru’s hand grazed over your back, sweat slick between you. His chest stuck to your skin as he ground in circles, cock stirring your depths. "Feel that? Right against your spot." Fingers slipped to your clit, rubbing firm and steady. Sparks shot up your spine, pussy clenching hard.
Contorted sounds escaped from your throat as Satoru started shallow thrusts. Saliva bubbling out, strings connecting when you pulled back for air. He thumbed it over your lips. "Messy girl. Love seeing you drool on my dick."
it didn’t take long for the pressure to build fast. Your poor and stuffed body wounding tight. Suguru's fingers pressed harder on your clit, rolling it just right. "Cum for me, baby. Squeeze my cock." His thrusts becoming even more punishing as his balls smacked heavy against you.
“C-Cumming! T-Toru….S-Sugu,” you exclaimed, poorly attempting to cry out either of the boys names. Your walls pulsing wild around him. Juices gushed out, soaking his length and thighs. The release hit like waves, legs shaking, vision spotting white. You cried out muffled on Satoru, body jerking.
Suguru fucked through it, groans rough. "That's our pretty girl. Milk it all." His hips stuttered, but he held back, drawing it out.
Satoru eased out a bit, letting you gasp. Spit trailed long from your lips to his shiny cock. He slapped it light on your cheek. "Pretty as fuck when you cum…" He fed it in again, holding your head steady. “C’mon…back in, yeah?”
Suguru pulled back slow, almost out, then rammed home. Cum from your release mixed with slick, squelches loud and filthy. He spread your cheeks, watching himself disappear inside. "Look at that creamy mess. All for us."
You bobbed faster on Satoru, hollowing cheeks for suction. He hissed, free hand on the wall. "Shit, princess, your throat's choking me s’good." Precum flowed steady, coating everything.
Suguru varied it now, long slow drags that made you whine, then quick snaps that jolted you forward onto Satoru. Sweat beaded on his skin, dripping hot onto your back. His breaths came panty, control fraying.
Satoru locked eyes with Suguru over you. Tension sparked between them. Suguru leaned in first, hand on Satoru's neck pulling him down. Their lips crashed, open and hungry right above your head.
Tongues slid wet smacks of mouths mixing with your slurps. Suguru sucked Satoru's lower lip, biting light. Spit glistened on their chins as they broke for air, then dove back.
You pulled back to glance upside down, the raw heat of it all making your poor pussy throb. Satoru's cock jumped at your lips from their kiss. Before eventually shoving your head right back into work.
Suguru growled into it. "Taste so good, Toru." He licked Satoru's jaw, hand sliding to his chest, tweaking a nipple hard.
Satoru thrust erratic now. "Fuck, yeah Sugu…F-fuck…love you so much yeah?” Their kiss turned sloppy, tongues pushing visible, moans vibrating down to you. “Fill her up good f’me…”
Suguru snapped at that. He buried his cock balls deep, length swelling as he pumped hot cum into you. Spurt after thick spurt flooded your pussy, warm and sticky, womb full. "Take every drop, sweetheart."
The sight of Suguru stuffing you full triggered Satoru’s orgasm next. He yanked your hair, holding flush as he unloaded. Ropes hit your throat, salty and thick. You gulped fast, some spilling out through the corners of your lips, but he kept going till you finished swallowing it down.
Your two boyfriends kissed lazy through aftershocks, cocks twitching still. Suguru slipped free with a wet pop, cum oozing thick from your hole, trailing down.
Satoru pulled out too, tip red and slick. He scooped leaking seed, pushed fingers in your mouth. "Clean it, good girl." You sucked them eagerly, tasting both.
Suguru chuckled low, flipping you to hands and knees again. "Round two. My turn in front." His cock, still hard and messy, tapped your lips. "Lick it clean first, baby."
You did, tongue lapping your cum and his off every inch. The taste being such a salty sweet mix, his shaft twitching under your mouth. Satoru knelt back, spitting on your ass. Fingers probed, one then two, twisting to loosen.
"Gonna fuck this tight hole now, angel," Satoru said, voice thick over your whimpers and whines. The head pressed, popping past the ring. Burn stretched wide, but the lubrication of his spit helped, inch by inch sinking in. Fullness hit different, pressure on new spots that made you keen.
Suguru filled your mouth, syncing thrusts as Satoru bottomed out before eventually groaning loud. "So fucking tight back here. Clenchin’ like that." He spanked once, crack, cheek stinging hot.
You pushed back, chasing the building ache. Suguru's hand in hair, fucking face gentle rough. "Breathe, princess. Taking us so well." Fingers found your clit again, rubbing fast. Your orgasm stacked quick now, body sensitive. You came hard despite Satoru's cock deep inside your ass. Your rim fluttering as your pussy came untouched.
They followed soon after, Satoru grinding deep to spill in your ass, hot jets painting walls. Suguru down your throat, cum sliding easy now. And once Satoru finally pulls out and Suguru lifts your head away from his length, it doesn’t take long for you to completely pass out.
“Shit Sug, y’think we overdid it?” Satoru asked breathlessly, looking down at your limp figure. His tone hilariously concerned.
“The fuck do you think, Satoru?”
a/n: this is not a part of the series!!! i made this oneshot a while ago before i started writing for the bf!geto x reader x bsf!gojo miniseries. but i never finished it and i guess this can be like an unrelated extra chapter maybeeee idk
also i did not know how to end this and lowk forgot to post ts
Hi! Saw that your requests are open and I would like to send one if you don't mind.
Leon with a shy!Reader who one day confesses to him that she wants him put her over his knee and spank her. I just love the idea of Leon being a soft dom, and he's constantly giving praise and encouraging words to Reader because he knows she's shy and he doesn't want her to feel like the spankings are a punishment
💌An; IM BACK AND I LOVE THIS SO MUCH!!! OMGGGG PLEASE REQUEST SOMETHING LIKE THIS AGAIN MY DEAR ANON😵💫🤍 I really hope you enjoy this, please tell me if you did I love feedback!! Also I these photos on Pinterest UGHHH
Tags; NSFW, MDNI, 18+, spanking, praise, shy! reader, f! reader, if you feel i forget anything please let me know!!
Word count; 2-3k
Leon lay quietly in your shared bedroom. Your head rests on his chest, listening quietly to his heartbeat. Your shared quiet afternoons were nice, especially after so much chaos Leon had gone through. Upon his return he clung to you a little more often than not. His limbs sticking like glue to you. The day was spent relaxing in bed, not much moving, or talking. The silence and tv humming quietly provided a nice presence. His arms wrapped around your body, resting on your lower back.
Leon occasionally rubbed or massaged your muscles, a silent ‘thinking of you’. The lower his hands traveled the more your body relaxed. The warmth he emitted makes you feel warm. Your eyes were locked tight onto the tv screen. You weren’t sure what was playing but it seemed interesting. Upon the endless snacks and lazing around Leon needed to get up;
“Up, baby. Need to use the restroom…” Leon says, patting your butt in the process.
Your body jolts with little shock, still not used to Leon being extra physical. You liked the way he wanted you and no one else. Leon didn’t leave you questioning if he loved you or was sexually attracted to you. He took the lead and always made it clear what he liked, wanted, needed, or didn’t like. Everything he had been through and the fact he still had enough room in his heart for you made your heart and stomach giddy.
You turned away from his body, allowing him to pull away and make a quick exit. Your eyes fell back to the tv but your minded started to wander off. While Leon was away and you had been left to yourself, it made sense you would have to take care of yourself. Lonely nights leave your imagination to run wild. Leon is in every single one of them. His body leaning over yours, his nose brushing slightly against yours. The sound and feeling off his breath huffing from his pace. Sometimes these thoughts would turn into something a bit dirtier.
His hands always seemed to be a star at some point during these nights. Leon running them along your body, feeling every inch of your skin, each curve and mark on you. The thought of him running his hand up along your back. Your body tossed along his lap, your ass in the air. Running his hands along the curve, reaching below, teasing your clit through your panties. Leon didn't need to use his words; his hands and actions were enough to make you feel whatever emotion he wanted to give.
You laid silently, listening for him to finish his business and come back. You had been waiting to bring up this topic, but it wasn't easy for you. Topics like these were something you weren't used to sharing. You weren't a prude it was more of the fact that you just didn't want to share how you felt. This pit sat in your stomach for a short while before the sound of a door opening pulled you back to reality.
Emerging from the restroom, Leon makes his way back to you. You could tell by the way he was acting he was in a very good mood. No worries right now, just the both of you together. His small vacation was starting to take effect; his shoulders looked less tense; his brows weren't strained together. Leon looked fuller of life now that he was with you.
“You okay, baby?” Leons voice broke your trance.
You looked back up, meeting his eyes. The worry laced in his eyes made you feel a little bad. You weren't trying to make him worry, just trying to figure out your words. You continued to watch in silence before finding your voice.
“You looked a little out of it.” Leon continued as he dropped his body next to yours, pulling you close to his body once more.
“Yea was just thinking...” Your voice came out quieter than usual. You tried to steady it with each breath, but this wasn't a normal request or question to ask your boyfriend. Especially out of nowhere.
“What were you thinking about?” Leons voice carried out very carefully, he knew this voice, how small it could get when the topic was going to be something different than usual.
Leon sat up a little straighter this time, watching you closely; his blue eyes locked heavily on your frame. He wasnt going to push or budge but if he knew it needed to be talked about, he wouldnt drop it as much.
“It’s... kind of...” Your voice trailed off, leaving Leons mind to wander off with different thoughts of what you could be talking about.
Leon continued to let the silence fill the room as you slowly worked up the courage to say what you wanted to say. The more you thought of it the hotter you felt your face become. Unconciously you bring your hands up to your cheeks attempting to hide the flushness. Leons sly eye catches on quickly, a smirk starts to grow on his lips. He could tell it was going to be a dirty topic.
“Go on...” Leon lifted his hand, placing it on your lower hip, rubbing your skin gently.
Goosbumps start to litter your skin as his fingertips continue. Your breathing picked up slightly, heartbeat picking up. You could feel Leon watching you and your movements, and you knew you couldn't hide much from him.
Taking a small breath, you finally broke.
“Would you...would you... Spank me?” Your question hung very low in the air.
Leon heard you clear as day. Even though your voice was a little quiet, and not loud, he could hear the question, implications and the meaning. Leon expected anything but this, especially when he made it clear about how he would treat you.
“Are you sure that's something you would want?” Leon asked, his brow kicking up slightly.
This wasn't something small; this was something serious that involved a lot of different trust. Leon was a little hesitant at the thought yes, but he would do it if its what you wanted. He sat and thought of the different risks and things that could happen. It may seem small to others but inflicting any pain on you put Leon on the edge. He wanted to make sure you were completely sure.
After some time of looking in your eyes, watching for hesitation or regret from your words Leon didn’t move. He had to make sure this was something you wanted, this wasn’t some small request. He would be inflicting pain on you, and that’s something Leon swore to never do.
“Come here...” Leon called over softly.
You quickly sat up, pushing away the sheets. Shifting in his spot, Leon lets out a quick groan, his boner straining in his pants. He was usually very patient and very calm but something inside of lit this fire under his ass. Leon knew well enough you were a grown woman and could take care of yourself but you requesting something so dirty, especially from you, was something so jarring.
Leon wasn’t expecting this when he came back, but he didn’t mind if it was something you truly wanted. He would give you the moon and stars if you asked, but even then, he would be sure it was something you wanted. Leon wasn’t the kind to beat around the bush; he preferred up-front and honest. He just really wasn’t expecting this from you. But the excitement in his chest started to grow as he saw you moving with anticipation.
Leon sat himself at the edge of the bed, his lap waiting for you to take position. Watching you closely, you seemed very sure you wanted this, and if you wanted it, Leon was going to give it to you.
You drop down, your lower half balanced across Leons thighs. You lay your arms out before you, finding comfortability. Your breathing had picked up its pace with each second passing. You were shocked that you could bring yourself to him to do such a thing. It had taken some time anyways to become physical together; it was only a matter of time before kinks would be brought up. Being with Leon for so long, he helped bring up your confidence and be less shy. He never pushed you further than what you were comfortable with.
Leon pulled down your shorts and panties, running a hand over your skin, feeling your smooth surface. He could see your pink cunt poking out from below, your wetness starting to pull around your folds. He bit his lip, muffling his groan. You could feel the cool air as he pulled your clothes away. It felt so nice to finally get that off your chest as well as receiving it.
“Anytime you want to stop, just tell me, okay? I won't hesitate to stop.” Leon said, before reaching below to kiss your lips. You moved your head to meet his, finding his eyes after your second kiss. A smile shared between the both of you. Seeing how excited you were started to ease Leons nerves a bit.
“I will, promise” You swore before turning back, facing away from him. You laid in anticipation for what was to come.
“Good girl, handling it so well…” Leon’s voice hummed quietly. Slouching slightly lower to reach your ear.
His rough hands gliding over your smooth ass. The redness on your ass was starting to grow. The hue is growing more prominent and vibrantly. You could feel your skin starting to swell and heat up. Leon’s praising feeding into your dropping cunt. Your mouth hung slightly open, soft pants coming out. Your shyness still in effect, your noises were too quiet for Leons liking. Drawing his hand back, landing down against your skin. A stinging feeling landing quick and harshly against your skin.
An echoed cry sprang from your lips, biting on your tongue, trying to muffle your sounds. Leon groaned above, your cries sounded like music to Leon’s ears. He preferred to take his time with you, no rush, or unnecessary speed. Dragging your orgasm out until you couldn’t take it anymore.
“That’s it, handling it so well…” Leon mumbles, leaning down placing a kiss along your hairline.
His free hand traveled up your back and around your body, cupping your face gently. Leon couldn’t see your face, but he knew your bodies’ reactions were enough evidence to show how much you enjoyed this. The way your fists clenched together with each landing smack, each relieved sigh from your lips. Leon bit his lip, watching the redness grow and spread. Leon never would put his hand on you or touch a hair on your head wrong. The one thing he always wanted to do right was never hurt you mentally or physically. Granted, Leon was hesitant at the thought but the thought of you begging for him to do that made his cock swell.
“So pretty, baby… you like when I spank you?” He asked before landing another hit. Watching your skin jiggle from the impact, Leon grasps a palm full of your skin, squeezing the fat.
“Fuck…” He groaned from above.
Leon’s eyes watched your body like a hawk. Seeing your skin littered in his markings making his cock strain further in his pants. You were acting so different than usual, your quiet demeanor, your shy eyes avoiding his sometimes. Leon knew you weren’t delicate or some fragile doll, but you were too important for him to lose. He just loved the small effects he had on your body, the way he made your cheeks flush when he would flirt with you. Leaning down to kiss your cheek, just for you to swat at him jokingly.
“You must’ve been really nervous to ask, hmm...?” Leon asked further, his hand gliding back to your ass.
You nodded your head, mind too hazy to verbally respond. You had been waiting for this moment. Relief was welcomed when Leon agreed to do such a thing. You knew how he was with you, and you loved and appreciated that, but it also made you nervous as well.
“Very proud of you for speaking up though…” His sentence continued into a praise.
Leon drew his hand back, before landing another harsh slap against your ass. The boner coming through his pants was starting to get worse. He was trying to pace himself and tell himself to take it slow and easy. This was something new for the both of you and he had to remember that.
“I wasn't expecting such a request from you...” Leons words continued to trail out, no particular speed or rush. He just wanted you to enjoy this for yourself.
It wasn't often you spoke up about sex or requested something regarding sex and if Leon could give it to you, he absolutely would. Memories of you and Leon having sex started to pool into his thoughts. The nights and mornings he spent with you. Your legs wrapped tightly around his head as he dug his tongue deeper into you. Or having his arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you close as he fucked his cock deeper into you. These memories also made him think of how you would react if he spanked you during actual sex.
Would you become wetter than usual? Would you cry out his name louder after each hit? Would you beg for more or pretend you didn't like it?
“Doing so good…” Leon’s praise made your pussy clench tighter together. The way he would squeeze and rub your skin together after each hit. Leon was good with his movements, everything he didn’t felt like a reward unless he wanted it to feel like a punishment.
Leon made a mental note to bring up these questions to you later. Whether he had to ask verbally or find out with your body, he wouldn't argue. Either way, he was getting an answer.
“This is all for you, such a good girl for me…remember how I told you when you wanted something…” Leon’s voice trailed off before he landed one more spanking and finishing his sentence;
“You need to ask for it…and you. Did.” Each final word landed an extra smack.
Your lower half now vibrantly and glowing red. Leon definitely was going to be thorough with his after care tonight with you. He always was but he was going to go the extra mile for you.
“Good girl, this is just to make you feel good…” Leon’s voice became gruffer the more your whines echoed through the room. Your moans bouncing off the walls.
“Deserve everything you ask for, sweet girl…” Leon was trying so hard not to take right then and there, your pussy just peaking out at him waiting to be touched.
This felt like a reward for you but a torture for him. His cock still bulging and straining in his pants, your moaning, the feeling of your warm skin burning his hand.
Fuck, he was doing this again with you, even if he had to be the one to ask you. Leon didn’t care, he needed you in every way.
summary; leon’s been infected with something unknown from his mission.
notes: dub-con, coercion from blood sucking, dead dove do not eat!!, blood and death, but its happy ending (depending on what you interpret as happy...) , p in v, oral sex, creepy leon, please do be warned this is pretty dark!! but still mostly consensual id like to say, no beta read we die like luis..
word count: 1.7k
Leon hasn’t been the same since he returned from one of his missions two weeks ago. He had been deployed in deep Romania, told to investigate an unknown disease spreading throughout the region. Pale, sickly victims who fed on their companions. At first thought, it sounded awfully like zombies.
He refused to answer any of your questions when he returned. He kept a thick silence as he laid in bed with you that night, the darkness of the room swallowing you both whole. You were worried. Had something happened to him?
Even after questioning him, he didn’t open up. Not immediately. His silence worried you intensely, each day crawling at your insides and scratching at your flesh. It drove you crazy. He wasn’t the same, his skin held no warmth, he was paler, and his eyes fell dull. Like he had died, yet he stood in front of you breathing.
You felt like you were going crazy. Peeking over your shoulder every few minutes, sneaking a glance at him seated on the couch, posture sulken and relaxed. An old TV show plays on the screen a few feet in front of him, his eyes glued and mind occupied. He was in his whole own world.
Distracted with your head turned towards him, you don’t realize your knife slipping, accidentally nicking your finger instead of chopping the fruits settled in front of you on the counter. A sharp gasp leaves you as you step back, clutching your finger delicately. It didn’t hurt too much, but definitely caught you by surprise.
Inhaling deeply, you turn to reach for the medical drawer, only to be met by the sight of Leon standing behind you. You gasp loudly, knocking into his firm body and colliding your nose into his chest.
“You okay? I smelt— heard, uh, you hurt yourself.” He mutters lowly, hand reaching for yours, as gentle as always. You flinch at the coldness of his skin, fingers handling your finger as he examines the cut. Not too deep, but deep enough to cause blood. A bit of blood.
“My knife slipped, hun. It wasn’t anything bad.” You reassure, blinking up at him as he stares intently at your fingers. His eyes were locked down on the blood, lips parted and pupils dilated. You could feel the hunger in his gaze, and it scared you. You hadn’t even heard him get up, his footsteps or breath behind you.
The air brushing against your shoulder makes you shiver as you watch him bring your finger closer before suddenly pulling back. With a heavy sigh, he runs his fingers through his hair before softly patting your hip. “Be careful, yeah? I’ll get you a bandaid.”
It’s late at night when you awake from your slumber, eyes slowly drifting open and adjusting to the lack of light inside your shared broom. You can feel his body behind you, tucked into the bed under the blankets. His back faces you as you peek over your shoulder, breath slow.
Cautiously, you climb out of bed, lifting a weak hand to rub your temple. It’s well past midnight, and the silence of the house is all you can hear. Knowing Leon’s presence was next to you always soothed you, having such a hunk of meat for a husband, knowing he would always protect you.
But now you couldn’t help but feel unease. He looked the same as Leon, sounded the same, yet he didn’t feel the same. You didn’t know who was pretending to be your husband, and it scared you.
You get up from the mattress, slipping on slippers and quietly walking out of the bedroom. You don’t hear the sheets moving behind you.
The living room was pitch black when you entered. Living with Leon meant living in a cozy house with top notch security, which helped you feel safe from the threats outside the walls. Now you were afraid of what laid inside the walls.
Fiddling around, your eyes land on one of the decorative candles you have set on the dining table. You light it, holding it up as you begin to rummage the countertops for your sleeping meds. It wasn’t rare for you to stir in the middle of the night and crave your meds to fall back asleep, it was an annoyance but had become routine.
Across from the fridge you had double ovens stacked on top of each other on the wall, metallic, expensive and glimmering when the moonlight shines across it. Passing by them, you see your own reflection by yourself and alone in the dark kitchen. You don’t give it second thought.
You reach up, fingers aimlessly searching through the higher cabinet for the familiar feel of your meds. You couldn’t see so high up, so you were using your senses.
Slowly, a masculine hand comes into view and reaches into the cabinet beside you. Your blood runs cold. You didn’t see anyone behind you, you didn’t hear them either.
Your entire body freezes up before you suddenly dig your elbow into the man’s gut behind you, a loud groan of pain escaping him. You recognize the voice immediately and turn around to shove him back, glaring at his scrunched up blue eyes.
“Leon Scott Kennedy—“ You hiss, hand clutching your chest as you try to level your breathing. He stands in-front of you almost sheepishly, gently rubbing his stomach where you had struck him, a frown on his lips.
“Honey, what was that for? I was trying to help.”
“Help?! Where the hell did you come from?!” You snap back, clutching at your chest and leaning back against the counter behind you. He may have a good amount of years on you, but he was going to make you die young from a heart attack.
“I’m sorry, so sorry..” He whispers, gently pressing against you and nuzzling his stubble into your tangled hair. His limbs press cold against you, making you flinch softly. Thick arms wrap around your waist, your hair standing up on your own. He was cold, still, and with your head pressed against his burly chest, a small part of you tells you to lean in and listen for his heartbeat. To remind you this is your husband.
But you find none.
The following days are hell for you. You know there's something wrong with him, but you can't name it. You’re worried sick about what to do and if he’s even okay, but whenever you ask, he waves you off. Shrugs or laughs and tells you ‘You overthink, hun.’ It's nauseating, sharing a bed with a man who wears the skin of your husband but not the soul. Yet he still reaches for your hand in the dark, his cold touch only further pushing you away.
You were scared. Terrified, even. The nights grew longer, days more tiresome; you were unable to make them through without noticing things you didn’t want to notice. His lack of heartbeat, the unnatural chill lingering on his skin, his dead-silent breaths, darkened eyes, the hunger that flashes in them when he looks at you. Not the hunger a husband should have— something cannibalistic instead, something disgusting and rotten to the core. You’re terrified of your husband.
You can't pretend you don’t notice any of this, or that you’re able to wait it out until he decides to open up, or the delusional hope that’ll it wash over. The phone in your hand shakes as you call up the only number you could think of in the moment that would be able to help you.
“Hello?” You speak hesitantly, your voice hushed. You’re tucked into the dark corner of your living room late at night, Leon asleep in your bedroom. You had checked several times to make sure. A single candle is lit beside you on the small table.
“Chris Redfield here.”
“Chris!” You quickly whisper to him your name, alerting him you were Leons wife. He’s quick to recognize you, worry immediately grasping at his tone. Your body tightens in fear as his voice reaches to you. “Chris, I need your help. Leon—”
“Leon? You’re with him?” He gasps.
“Y-Yes?” A hard blink.
“You have to get out of there. We’ve been trying to contact him for days, he disappeared from our care and isn’t answering any calls and turned off his location services. He’s not safe.”
It's almost hard to hear Chris with how loud your heart is beating. Horror grabs at your legs, keeping you frozen in shock on the couch as you croak out a weak, "What's wrong with him?” Even if you knew you should get up immediately and run, you found it impossible to move your legs.
A moment of hesitation fills the call before he speaks. “He went on a mission to Romania and ran into Umbrella, if you know what that is.”
“Yeah, I do. And?” You usher, your voice small.
“They were making a virus, and he got infected. Its dangerous, he’s dangerous. The only reason he hasn’t killed you yet is probably because he loves you. But he’s not himself, he won't be able to make that difference for too long, so you need to get up, grab your stuff, and get out of that damn house!”
His sharp voice makes you snap back into reality. Your voice shakes as you stand up, holding the candle in your hand shakily as you wobble down the hallway. “T-The virus— What is it doing to h-him?”
“He… It's… It's a sick duplication of vampirism, is the best way to describe it.”
“He’s a vampire?”
You look up from your candle, slowly making eye contact with deep blue irises with no light in them. He stands before you, gaze flat and set down on you like a predator would do with its prey. The air runs cold as he silently closes his palm over the candle, bathing you both in darkness.
Chris calls out your name in confusion, but Leon slowly takes the phone from your hand, his fingertips making you shiver. He silently ends the call and sets the phone aside, staring down at you with an unpleased frown. Your body trembles, and he notices.
“Sweetheart,” He whispers, gently stepping forward until your breath brushed against his, “Why would you go to Chris when you could have just talked to me?” A large hand sets on your back, creeping up and pressing through the thin fabric of your silk-cami. You struggle to respond, mouth open but no words able to escape your throat. You never wanted to be scared of your husband.
“H-He— he said—”
He hushes you, his other hand going to brush your hair out of your soft cheek, before cupping it and gently squishing. “He was lying. I’d never hurt you, my love.”
You can't help but notice he didn’t correct the idea of him being infected.
“What.. about.. the virus part?” You choke out.
He hesitates, eyes slowly drifting down your body before snapping back up to yours. A frown washes over his face.
“I love you, you know that?”
“What?”
A soft cry leaves you as he suddenly latches his teeth into your neck, fangs breaking through your skin. The sensation tingled, a small sting, before your body slowly starts to feel lighter in his arms. You can feel your blood slowly being sucked out into his mouth, his soft tongue occasionally darting out to lick over the two punctured holes. Shaky whimpers leave you as your arms fly out, pushing and swatting at his large body.
“I love you, my sweet girl,” He whispers, pressing you against the wall behind you, his hand on your back reaching to gently grasp the back of your neck, tilting your throat just right for his mouth. Your legs flail around before falling limp, your body completely limp against his. “You’re such a good girl for this, I’ll reward you, okay? Just relax.”
His words only make you tear up, whimpering into his hair as his sucking slowly renders you useless in his arms. Wrapping around his shoulders, you push up into him, finally giving up control. You craved to be in your husband's arms again and to feel intimate with him after weeks of being apart, even the thought of him being a supernatural being didn’t scare you anymore. He was still your husband, and you loved him unconditionally. The pain in your neck slowly numbed.
He pulls away slowly, blood trickling down his chin as he stares down at you longingly. Gently, he connects his lips with yours, hands moving down to scoop up your body and hold you against him. Your legs wrap around his waist like second-hand nature, hands moving to cup his stubbled face as you kiss back deeply. Your tongues move against one another slowly, the taste of your blood making you moan. It was salty and metallic but gave the kiss taste.
Before you know it, your back was against the familiar warmth and plushness of your mattress, his heavy body grounding you into the bed. It was like dead weight drowning you into the sheets. Cold kisses, lingering caresses, slow touches and the rustling of clothing being pushed to the side. You don’t know when you end up naked, but next thing you know he’s between your thighs, hungrily lapping at your wet folds.
A sense of euphoria washes over you as you relax, body yielding to his touch. You cant control yourself at this point; you’ve fully surrendered to him. You feel as if you’re drunk on his touch, unable to breath without it. The moment he sank his fangs into your neck was the moment you were permanently his for eternity.
“Do you wanna be with me forever, sweetheart?” He whispers against your skin, large hands spreading you open by putting pressure on your thighs. Even while inhumane between your legs, you were always the first thing on his mind. The thought of being with you until the end of the world was all he craved.
“Forever?” You croak, another moan leaving you as he dives back down, sucking your clit between his lips with focus. Fingers rubbing soothing circles into your thighs, massaging your legs until you’re putty in his hands. The sensation of him is everywhere, starting from your head to your toes.
“Mhm. Just gotta trust me, love. Can you do that? Will you be a good girl?” He finally pulls away, leaning up to make eye contact with you. Warmth flutters from your heart at his voice, still as sweet and caring as the day you met him, hence why you married him. He always put your needs and love first.
“I l-love you, of course..” You nod eagerly, locking your lips with his passionately. His burly arms wrap around you, groaning in content as he quickly pushes his briefs down, thick cock springing out against his abdomen. Heavy, painfully hard, irritated and aching to be burrowed into your body. He doesn’t hesitate when he aligns himself with you, pulling back from the kiss to slowly intertwine your fingers and press a soft kiss to your cheek, watching closely to your expression as he pushes inch by agonizing inch, stretching you wide on him.
You almost can't breathe, overwhelmed by the conflicting emotions, the pleasure, and even the pain. The hunger but love in his eyes as he slowly thrusts, whispering loving praises to you. He ushers you everything will be okay, and that when you wake up you’ll understand.
His teeth clamp down on your throat, fangs breaking through your skin once again. You cry out in pain underneath him, flinching and hugging him tighter. He groans at the taste of your blood filling his mouth, lapping it up hungrily while rolling his hips deeply into your tight warmth. You smelt like home and tasted like heaven.
“Leon, I’m— I cant— please,” You cry, trying to pull away from his teeth. It was starting to hurt, not like before— no, this time it was agonizing. Like he wasn’t planning on stopping until you were fully drained and nothing but a corpse underneath him. “Y-You’re scaring me..”
“No, no, no, baby,” He pulls away, his lips covered in your blood. He licks it away as he dives down to bite into his wrist, blood spilling down his forearm. The sight terrifies you, and you hiccup underneath him, trembling. Gently, he nuzzles you closer to his big chest, pressing warm kisses to your hairline. “You said you trust me, right?”
“M-Mhm.”
“Then be a good girl and drink this, okay?”
Your eyes slowly drift down to his bloody wrist, the thought of even consuming his blood nauseating you to your core. Your lips move to say no, but you can’t help but remember what he said. Together forever. So gradually, as if you were hypnotized, you lift your head and take the blood into your mouth. It stains the inside of your mouth as you lap at it for a short moment before pulling back sharply, as if you were snapped back to reality.
“Shhh, it’s okay, it’s okay.” He hums, pushing you back down to lay underneath him. The blood staining your lips only makes him groan, starting back up a strong pace. His hips push against yours, snapping harshly. The sounds of skin-to-skin echo throughout the bedroom. His teeth latch back onto your neck, his hands holding you tight against him.
“I love you, I love you, I love you,” He groans between long sucks, feeling your body slowly grow lighter in his grasp. Finally pulling back from your throat, he can see the light in your eyes slowly dim underneath him. With a weak smile, he presses one final kiss to your warm lips. “I’m gonna be here when you wake up, okay?” He brushes his thumb to your bottom lip, pressing down slightly before releasing you. It would be the last time he’d feel your skin warm and alive.
In your last few moments, you can feel your orgasm wash over your body, releasing on his cock as he moans deeply and burrows into your neck, clutching you tightly. His thrusts grow sloppy and inconsistent before he spills deep into you, holding onto you like a lifeline— yet there you were, dying slowly.
With one last shaky breath, he nudges his nose against yours, fangs glistening in the moonlight. “I’ll love you forever sweetheart, till death do us part.”
And when your body finally falls limp in his arms, he awaits till you rise once again, skin cold to the couch as fangs grow where humane canines once laid.
And reader wakes up as a vampire and they live happily ever after!!! No sad endings on my blog!!!
Spicy Leon request if you’re feeling it?? He’s back from a mission and she’s feeling needy/touch starved but doesn’t want to smother him because he’s probably exhausted and has a few places needing bandaging so she tries to solely focus on doing that and the whole time he’s feeling just as needy as her and is like I just need my girl. Feel free to make your own changes and write the spice as you want lol thank you in advance!!!
♱ cw. 18+. soft smut. established relationship.
an. omggg my first leon piece. hope you like it anon <33 thank you so much for this request!
he comes home at two in the morning, which is normal. the state of him is also normal, which is the part that never gets easier. jacket torn at the shoulder, a cut above his brow that’s dried dark, moving like his ribs are aching. you’d been awake on the couch pretending to watch tv and the second the door opened you’d felt the knot in your chest loosen just slightly.
“hey,” he says. like he just got back from the grocery store.
“hey,” you say back. like your heart hadn’t been sitting in your throat for six days.
you get the first aid kit without being asked and he sits at the kitchen table and lets you, which means he’s more tired than he’s letting on. you start with his brow, tipping his chin up with two fingers, and he looks at you from under your hands with those tired blue eyes and you focus very hard on the cut and not on the fact that you’ve missed him so much it’s been almost physical, an ache that sat right behind your sternum the whole time he was gone.
“this one needs steri strips,” you say.
“okay.”
“the shoulder?”
“just bruised.”
“leon.”
“just bruised,” he repeats.
you move to the shoulder anyway, peeling back his jacket and the shirt beneath, and he lets you check it without complaint, which is how you know he’s exhausted. the man argues on principle when he’s got energy to spare. you clean it and tape what needs taping and try very hard not to notice the warmth of his skin under your hands or the way he’s been watching your face this entire time with an expression you can’t quite look at directly.
you’re reaching for the antiseptic when his hand closes around your wrist.
“leon—”
“i just need a minute,” he says quietly. he tugs, gently, and you let him pull you in, let him wrap both arms around you and press his face into your neck and breathe. you feel him exhale, long and slow, and something in him unknots by degrees.
you’d been so careful. so focused on not smothering him, not making it about you when he was the one who’d been gone for six days doing god knows what, and here he is holding on like you’re the thing he’s been waiting to get back to.
“i missed you,” he says into your neck. low and a little rough. “the whole time. just kept thinking about coming home.”
you pull back just enough to look at him and he looks back, tired and earnest and it makes your chest ache, and you kiss him soft and he makes a quiet sound and kisses you back deeper, hands sliding from your waist to your hips and pulling you closer, tongue pressing against yours.
“your ribs,” you say against his mouth.
“are fine.”
“leon—”
“are fine,” he says again, and stands, and you go with him.
he takes his time with you the way he always does after he’s been gone. hands relearning you like he’s been thinking about it the whole ride home.
he presses his mouth to your throat first, lips dragging slow, then your collarbone, then down your arm, the inside of your elbow, your wrist, back up to the soft skin of your inner arm and closer to your underarm and you feel heat rise to your face because it’s so intimate, so careful, like he’s paying attention to parts of you that nobody else thinks to.
he reaches behind you and unclips your bra and pulls it off and then presses his face between your breasts and hums, a satisfied sound, cheek against your skin. not rushing. you card your hands through his hair and feel the tight thing in your chest finally, finally come undone.
when he finally settles between your thighs and looks at you, blue eyes soft, you reach up and touch the bandage above his brow without thinking.
“hi,” you say softly.
“hi,” he says back.
he pushes into you slow and you feel every inch of him. the thick drag of his cock stretching you open, his heat filling you so completely your breath stutters and your walls flutter around him instinctively, pulling him deeper. he goes still for a moment, forehead dropping to yours, panting.
“god,” he exhales. sounding a little wrecked. “missed you so much. missed my girl.”
he starts to move and you feel everything. every slow thorough roll of his hips, the slick grip of your walls around his girth pulling tight each time he draws back, the warm wet heat building between you with every stroke until you’re arching up into him and gripping his shoulders. his forehead stays on yours, one hand laced through yours against the pillow, the other spread warm at your hip like an anchor.
“missed you,” he murmurs again, like he can’t stop saying it now that he’s started.
his mouth finds your neck and he’s kissing you, licking at your skin, so very desperate, like he’s been starved of you, which he has, dragging his lips up to your jaw and back down to your collarbone and back up again like he can’t decide where he needs to be, like everywhere isn’t enough. his hips keep their rhythm but his mouth is everywhere, tasting you, breathing you in, and you feel the low sound he makes vibrate against your throat.
“just need you,” he mumbles against your skin. “just my girl—ah—just need my girl.”
you don’t answer. you can’t. he feels too good, in too deep, filling you so completely that coherent thought is somewhere far away and you never want to come back from this, never want to move from this exact spot, his weight and his warmth and his mouth on your skin.
his hips stutter, pace faltering, and you feel him getting close, but his hand slides between you without hesitation, thumb finding your clit, pressing in slow circles like even now, even while edging closer to his own release, he’s not going to cum without you. you gasp and clench around him and he groans into your neck.
“cum,” he breathes. ragged. “with me. cum with me, baby.”
you do. your walls grip and flutter around him and he comes apart right after, shuddering, face pressed hard into your neck, your name leaving him in breathless moan.
he stays there after. his body heavy, face in your neck, very still. you don’t move either. you’re not sure either of you could.
a long quiet moment passes.
“…sorry,” he says eventually. muffled against your skin.
“for what.”
“came straight from a mission.” he murmurs. “didn’t even shower. just got you all—” he shifts slightly, almost self conscious about it, which is so endearing on him you could cry. “sorry.”
you laugh softly, hand moving through his greyish blonde hair. “leon. i genuinely do not care.”
“still.” he lifts his head and looks at you, a little sheepish. “shower with me.”
he peels himself off you with great effort and pulls you up with him and you both stand there for a second, equally wrecked, and he looks at you in the low light of the bedroom with something so soft in his face.
then he takes your hand and walks you to the bathroom.
the water is warm and he washes your hair without being asked, big hands careful at your scalp, and you stand there with your eyes closed. he presses his lips to the top of your head when he’s done.
' being loved by satoru gojo ' giggling squealing kicking my feet warnings : idfk fluff , gojo being head over heels for you
taking a break after a long day of training and instructing a bunch of stubborn teenagers, you and shoko were sitting in the staff room---discussing things that gojo has done for you that seemed totally normal.
to you.
"satoru left a mission halfway through one time because i said i missed him." you shrug.
shoko nearly choked on her coffee, "he did what?"
you didn't understand why shoko was reacting. i mean, that was totally normal. ...right?
she places her mug down, eyeing you suspiciously. "how often does he carry your bags?"
"all the time."
"open doors?"
"yeah?"
"buys you things?"
"well, obviously."
every one of your answers to her questions, shoko grew more and more confused. she knew that you two were dating, but she always assumed he didn't really get attached to people. well, not like that at least.
shoko clears her throat, "you know he doesn't do any of that for the rest of us, right?" she lowers her voice. "last week i asked him to pass me a pen and he threw it at my head."
"what?" you gasp---and that's when the flashbacks hit you.
gojo automatically ties your shoelaces even though he knows you're more than capable.
gojo carries you when you're tired.
gojo remembering your coffee order.
gojo giving you his jacket before you can even say that you're cold.
gojo dropping everything when you call.
each memory gets progressively more embarrassing because of your obliviousness. so, after the break with shoko, you went looking for gojo for confirmation.
finding him on the field, watching and instructing yuji and megumi while they train together, you approach him.
"do you really do all those things because you love me?"
gojo blinks, "well hello to you too," he chuckles deeply, turning to face you. "explain, sweetheart."
you huff, "like.. everything! you tie my shoelaces, you buy me things without asking, you carry me when i'm tired---"
"who else would i do it for?"
"...shoko says normal boyfriends don't carry spare hair ties." your lips purse together, turning your face away.
gojo tilts his head to the side, placing his index finger under your chin to guide your face back to his. "normal boyfriends are losers."
okay eat this up before i move onto my rin itoshi mini series
remember please do not copy, steal, rewrite, or put my works into ai. i work hard on all my fics.
❤︎ SYNOPSIS: nanako and mimiko have a lonely papa—luckily for him, they’re master matchmakers. (alternatively, kids are smarter than we think.)
❤︎ CONTENT: f!reader, single dad!suguru, preschool teacher!reader, both are mid 20s-early 30s, and both are lonely asf, egregious usage of ‘y/n’ and this is your only warning, light angst, but mainly fluff, nanako and mimiko are very active participants, alcohol, first dates … 18+, minors and ageless blogs DNI.
❤︎ XOXO, PUMA: um. how does one interact with children.
♫ NOW PLAYING: back in love, suki waterhouse.
read on ao3 | 6.2k words | masterlist.
“MISS Y/N!” Nanako hollers. She always comes screaming into class, loud enough to make you to wince, loud enough to make you to debate whether it’s appropriate to tell a child that’s not yours to shut up. Mimiko trails right behind, clutching Mr. Bun tight to her chest. “Marry my Papa!”
And you, who was prepared to welcome your favorite girls with open arms—yes, teachers aren’t supposed to have favorites, but they do—stutter and falter. Nanako comes crashing into your knee, and somehow, knocks wind out of you in the process.
“Nanako,” Mr. Getō hisses from the entrance. He’s always the first parent here, work, you assume. Never too early, but early enough that you’re the only two adults in the room, early enough to barely miss the morning rush. You don’t mind the extra company, even if Nanako is a whirlwind and a half. And, as much as she tries to hide it, her twin sister isn’t much better. Just…quieter.
Mr. Getō turns to you with a polite smile, because that’s all he’s ever been—polite, kind, courteous. A bit distant. Not that you know many parents beyond drop off and pick up. If anything, you understand most of them through their kids. What Suguru’s daughters say about him, though, is beyond you.
“I’m sorry about her,” he apologizes, like his girls haven’t been in your class all year. Polite. You’d be lying if you didn’t say Mr. Getō was one of the more attractive parents, and unfortunately, all the single moms agree. The single moms, in their LuluLemons and Athleta and reusable Starbucks cups. You look down at your multicolored patchwork apron, the white dress underneath stained with every crayon and marker in your classroom. Yeah, definitely not his type.
Mr. Getō is clean—he’s made of sharp edges and hard lines, and you’re made of circles and vomiting rainbows. He’d definitely prefer someone clean and sharp like him. A business woman, maybe. With a really killer bob.
“It’s okay,” you wave it off before kneeling to give Nanako a proper hug. Lightly, Mimiko weasels her way in. “Did you two bring a lunch, today?
The question is superfluous—of course, they did. Mimiko is allergic to most things, and it’s a much safer play to simply bring food from home. But, if you forget to remind them immediately, they’ll forget to give it to you, and you’ll forget to remind them once the chaos of class starts. It’s an endless cycle of forgetting.
Nanako nods vehemently, digging into her themed backpack for two modern bento boxes, and hands them over with chubby fingers. “Yep! Papa made it!”
You smile and nod, getting to your feet to refrigerate them. With knees popping and aching on your way up, you wonder how long you’ll have until you feel truly, properly old. Mr. Getō lingers in the doorway, pays a swooning mother no mind as she unleashes her feral child in the room, and you find an excuse for small talk, because you can.
“What’d you make them?” You’re digging into the mini-fridge now, the one by the front door, and place their lunch boxes in the spot you always put them. Lower level, to the right. Mr. Getō shrugs in his suit like he doesn’t have somewhere to be.
“Just leftovers,” he says. You stand to your feet, brushing the apron off. “Tako sausage and omurice.”
“Awh, I love tako sausage,” you gush, and eye the room as it slowly begins to fill. Single mothers whisper behind your back. You know, becase your hackles raise. “I don’t know why, but sausage always tastes better squid-ified.”
Mr. Getō lifts an eyebrow. “…Squid-ified.”
“Yeah,” you nod away the stark reminder of exactly why you’re not this man’s type. He seems like such a no nonsense guy, and here you are, yapping.
“Well. If I knew that, I would’ve brought you some,” he offers with a kind smile, and your knees buckle. Just a little.
“Bah,” you wave the platitude away. “I’m an adult. If I really want tako sausage that bad, I can make it.”
“Do you?”
“Do I what.”
“Make it.”
“Oh! No.” You snort, suppress a giggle, and breathe. “I’m lazy.”
Crossing his arms, Mr. Getō rests a shoulder against the door frame. “Says the woman taking care of twenty gremlins on a daily basis.”
“Hey, they may be gremlins, but they’re my gremlins,” you say, eyes scanning the room. Yūji Itadori gnaws on a jumbo block. You should probably take it from him before he hurts himself. Thankfully (unthankfully) Mr. Getō checks his watch, and realizes—
“Shit, I’m going to be late. I will, um, see you at pick up,” he pushes away from the wall, smile never failing. Class is going to begin soon, anyways. Before you can respond, though, he perks up with an afterthought. “Oh, and—if Nanako says anything else, please disregard it. It’s not…she has a fixation, right now.”
You don’t even know what that’s supposed to mean.
“Um…okay?”
“Okay,” Mr. Getō exhales, wavering by the door for one more second. “See you at five?”
“Sounds good,” you smile, and avoid thinking about how it sounds like a promise. Lock the fuck in. You’re no better than any of the mothers that swoon under the smooth of his voice. And, you hate yourself for it, every single time.
Once Mr. Getō leaves, so do the rest of the parents—the mothers, lingering, hoping that he might give them a sliver of his day. Fools, you think, because they won’t get anything if it doesn’t concern Nanako or Mimiko.
You walk to the front of the room, taking Yūji’s block away from him on the way. Luckily, he’s not a crier.
“Okay, everyone! Quiet Coyote!”
“Papa’s crying again.”
“I know.”
“He’s lonely.”
“I know.”
Suguru Getō is such a good dad.
While this something you know, it doesn’t make your heart swell any less.
“See! He likes you, lots!” Nanako holds up the sticky note plastered to the interior of her lunch. You crouch to read, instead of taking the note and pulling it to your face.
have a good day at school! i love you both so much. please don’t give ms. y/n a hard time. (nanako)
And, while there’s no proof that ‘he likes you lots,’ you appreciate Nanako’s match making sentiment nonetheless. Mimiko eats quietly next to her. Eyeing the tako sausage in their bento boxes, your mouth waters. Just a little bit.
But, you brought a sandwich. God, adult food is so boring.
“Yes, your Dad is a very nice man,” you smile, and ruffle ginger hair. Nanako beams.
“Exactly! So you’ll marry him?”
“No, Nanako.”
Nanako whines at that, and even Mimiko seems a little disappointed. “What? Why not?”
You suppress a groan. How do you explain without alluding to adult concepts that run right over children’s heads.
“Because, that’s not how relationships work, Sweetie,” you sigh, and adjust your legs so your knees hurt less. “Both people need to be on board. It’s a partnership.”
Nanako frowns. “Pardnership?”
You hum and nod. “Yes. Like the buddy system—marriage is one big buddy system.”
“But,” her bottom lip warbles, and shit, fuck, “Papa wants a buddy.”
“And, he’ll get one,” you know he will, it just won’t be you. And, you’re fine with that, you barely know the man—he’s just nice to look at, and takes very good care of the only two angels on Earth. “But, he has to choose. You can’t choose for him.”
“But—”
“No buts, Nanako,” because, you really can’t have this conversation for much longer. “Eat your food before it gets cold, okay? Your Papa will find a buddy, soon.”
“But,” Nanako begins again, because she’s stubborn, and has never been a good listener unless she wants to be. “But, you’d be a good buddy—I want you to be his buddy.”
You sigh. Swallow. Pat Nanako on the head in hopes it’ll placate whatever is going through her little mind at the moment.
“Eat your food, Nanako.”
“Papa, why don’t we have a Mommy, yet?”
“Girls—you’re four years old. Papa need a little more time than that.”
“Why?”
“…Because.”
“That’s a bad reason!”
You’re a little lonely. You can admit that, at least.
It’s not easy—after wrangling 20 five year olds all day—to have the energy for much else but recuperation. You’ve gone on a few dates, during the summer when class is no longer an something to worry about. You make as much time as you can for friends, on the weekends, maybe once or twice a month, when you don’t have a laundry list of errands to run because you waited the whole week to do them. That doesn’t make your apartment feel any less empty, though.
Heating up the other half of your sandwich, you try to remember the last time you went on a second date. Your boyfriend from college, maybe? You both lived on opposite sides of the country, and it wasn’t long after graduation before everything fell apart. Most parents you meet are surprised that you don’t have kids of your own by now, but that’s not the case—the issue is that you have twenty of them, from eight to three.
(To five, if you count the after school program.)
The microwave beeps, and you take the sandwich out. It’s cold in the middle, you should’ve flipped it open, but you’re too tired to care. That’s been a reoccurring thing, lately—being tired. Being cold.
“But, you’d be a good buddy!”
Yeah. You wouldn’t mind a buddy, either, Nanako.
“…What are you two doing?”
“Nothing, Papa!”
“Girls—thank you. Now, go to bed. I won’t ask again.”
“Okay, goodnight!”
Click.
“There’s an h in spaghetti, Nanako—”
Now. As stated, Mimiko is just as bad as her sister. Possibly worse—at least, Nanako is easy to say no to.
“My Papa is sad—and you can make him happy.”
Yeah. That’s what she starts with. What the fuck.
She holds out a homemade card with two hands, thumb and index pinching both sides until it wrinkles. From what you can see, there’s a pink glittering heart on the cover, with the names Miss Y/N and Papa above in crayon and stilted handwriting. This is a form of guilt tripping you’re severely unfamiliar with.
You take the card—because fuck, are you supposed to just make her stand there?—and open it because you can. Curiosity killed the cat.
THEESE WEKEND
PAPAS HOWSS FOR SPAHGETI
You snort. It takes you way too long to understand ‘howss’ is house.
“Mimiko,” you sigh, because, out of the two sisters, “you know I can’t. Your Papa has to choose his buddy, remember?”
She lets out an exhale, curling a lip of frustration, and wow, Mimiko, the fuck. “Yes, but—he’s not choosing one.”
“And, that’s okay,” you smile, pocketing the card before kneeling to her level. This is totally going on your fridge, your feelings surrounding the situation be damned. “Maybe, he doesn’t want a buddy right now.”
“Then—Then, he doesn’t get to cry about it!” She stomps a foot, and you want to say who’s crying about what, but keep it to yourself. “He won’t even see Uncle Gojō anymore. Just—come this weekend. Please.”
You sigh. You won’t, but, “I’ll think about it, Mimiko.”
“Did you do it?”
“Yes.”
“Do you think—”
“Yes.”
“Did you know your daughters invited me to your house, this weekend?”
“I did not,” Mr. Getō huffs with levity, and you join him in watching the girls climb the monkey bars. It’s a few hours since school ended, and the afterschool program is in full effect. Luckily (unluckily), you’re in charge of that, too. It’s not like you have anything better to do.
You pull the card out from your apron, and wave the cover design in his face before opening it, and trying your best to stay true to the spelling. “Theese wekend…papa’s howss…for spahgeti.”
“Wow.” Mr. Getō runs a hand over his lower face, chucking before he asks, “May I see that?”
Gladly, you hand it over.
“This is what they were doing last night,” he realizes aloud. “I was wondering why there was glitter all over the floor.”
“Ah yes, she’s elusive,” you nod solemnly, remembering how many times that godforsaken powder followed you out the class and into the home. Mr. Getō lifts an eyebrow. “Glitter, I mean.”
He snorts, nods, and passes the card back like he knew you wanted to keep it. The twins finally notice their Dad waiting, and come bounding over, covered in a level of sweat and grime that only a child could tolerate.
It’s immediate—the way Mr. Getō lights up.
He kneels down with open arms, each girl taking one, squeezing and pulling with no care for his pristine black suit. He doesn’t seem to care, either, as he cradles both of their heads and leaves twin kisses in his wake.
“How was school?”
“It was great! Did you know bears sleep for so long?!”
“Miss Y/N is coming to our house this weekend.”
You gawk, and look at Mimiko with absolute betrayal, because that’s not what you said. “I said, I’d think about it!”
Mr. Getō looks at you over his daughters head with a grin in his eyes.
“Is she, now?”
“Yep, I invited he—”
“We invited her!” Nanako adds loudly, lifting a hand in the air like she’s still in class. “But Mimiko delivered the letter because no one can say no to her!”
You knew it. You knew it, that wretch.
Mr. Getō laughs and stands, patting his daughters on the head on the way. You sigh but keep a good natured smile, knowing you will be screaming about this into a pillow later.
“You two are scary,” he says with a smile, then redirects it to you, and you’re…
“Sorry, about that,” you breathe, because this is embarrassing. Beyond, actually, because it’s like his girls have a radar for your exact type—their dad.
“No, I should be the one apologizing,” Mr. Getō steps forward. Mimiko forces a conversation out of Nanako, a sidebar, away enough to give you two privacy. Both of their eyes drift, though. “I told you—they have a fixation. They’ll get over it.”
“Oh no, it’s okay,” you wave his words away with both hands. “I get it. Plus, it’s endearing, when it’s not…”
“Embarrassing.”
“Yeah,” your fingers curl into the bottom of your apron. “But um, you should, like, totally put yourself out there more—not that, um, only if you want, but y’know, you could have anyone! So, uh, go for it!”
Mr. Getō snorts, and the sunset dances in his eyes and turns them molten. He’s staring at you too much. You should probably put the anxiously supportive thumbs up away. “And, that was supposed to be…encouraging.”
You clear your throat. “Yeah, it was an attempt. I—”
“What’s your answer?”
What.
“What?”
“Or,” Mr. Getō tilts his head, edits the sentence. “What would be your answer. If I, um, asked you. For…spahgeti.”
You snort at the pronunciation, too focused on the way he smells to notice the fact that Mimiko and Nanako’s conversation has come to a lull. Now, they’re watching in rapt attention.
“Uh, sure—yes,” you blink, pinch your arm just to make sure this isn’t a dream, and—nope. It’s still Thursday. You’re still at school. Covered in washable paint. “Yes, I would, um, I like spahgeti.”
He laughs a little, and you scrunch away a smile. You want to hear that, again.
“Six on Saturday?”
“Yeah,” you nod, you keep nodding, you need to stop nodding. “Yeah, sounds great.”
“No, you cannot cook the spaghetti yourselves.”
“But—”
“Absolutely not—Mimiko, how’d you learn how to turn on the stove?!”
“…Watching you.”
Maybe, you shouldn’t be going to a random man’s house. But, that random man is Mr. Getō, and he has daughters—so it’s not like he’s going to murder you, right?
Though, you’re more worried about accidentally murdering yourself on the way. You don’t notice the bright orange hand until after you’re honked at, a third of the way through the crosswalk.
“Watch where you’re going!”
Well. Fuck you, too.
The bottle of wine feels weird in your hands—too heavy and too cold, and the closer you get to your destination, the closer you get to the expensive side of town, the lump in your throat swells to a softball. You get comfortable with regret when you knock on his door thrice, hurting your knuckles in the process.
Christ, Mr. Getō lives here?
It doesn’t take long for him to open the door…ostensibly, not in a suit.
It’s strange seeing him outside of school. The issue is, outside of school, you dress the same. Apparently, Mr. Getō doesn’t wear suits all day, in the comfort of his own home, and that’s…weird.
(Not that you thought he would—but also, he totally seems like the type of guy who would.)
“Ah, hello! Thank you for coming.”
Today, he dons jeans and a button down shirt, both oversized enough to be comfortable, but nice enough to be…nice. His hair isn’t as neat as it typically is, but half-up nonetheless, with a stray hair working its way out the hair tie. There’s a streak of green marker on his chin, and you giggle at it, gesturing to your own.
“You’ve got…um…”
Mr. Getō slams a hand over his chin with a groan. “Marker?”
He steps out of the doorway to let you in, and you take the opportunity with a smile. “Looks like it—”
“Miss Y/N!”
Nanako and Mimiko come screaming down the hall and around the corner. You take them to the chest—well, the waist—as Mr. Getō disappears to, presumably, wash the green off his face.
“You came!” Nanako beams. You give her a small smile, because the little girl has no idea what you went through, internally, to drag yourself out of your apartment this evening.
“I did,” you nod, and give a very happy Mimiko a soft glare. She doesn’t even waver. They both guide you to a pleasantly placed table in the dining room, decorated with the works—roses and candles and actual porcelain plates. You don’t even think you own actual porcelain plates. Certainly not due to your own volition. The lighting is warm, and cozy, and could easily put you to sleep.
They sit you at the head, fussing over your hair, your outfit, and apparently, the way you sit.
“Papa has been working all day,” Mimiko says as Nanako tries to push your chair in, but can’t, because she’s five and you’re four times her size. “He wouldn’t let us help. Be nice to him.”
That or else hangs heavy in the air, and you gulp. This isn’t intimidating at all.
Before you start to regret your decision for the third time, Mr. Getō comes out of the kitchen while patting his hands dry with a reusable towel. Immediately, the girls scatter—sprinting down a seemingly endless hallway, and duck into the third room on the left. The door slams shut. Then, a series of giggles.
“…I’ve never seen them move so quickly,” Mr. Getō mutters, and you laugh quietly in agreement.
But, now, without Nanako or Mimiko to fill the void with insanity, you don’t know what to say. Silence lulls, and it’s loud.
“Me neither.”
This…is awkward.
Mr. Getō seems to feel it too, because immediately, he gets the ball rolling, and points to the kitchen. “So, dinner is ready but, um, I don’t know if you want me to make your plate, or if you want to make your own, or…”
“I can make it,” you insist, standing to your feet and grabbing the very nice, probably very expensive plate. You pray that you won’t drop it, somehow. “I wanna see what your kitchen looks like, anyway.”
Mr. Getō chuckles, light and good-natured. And, if you sway, it’s not your fault. “Why?”
You shrug, following him into through a doorway. “Tells you a lot about a person.”
Mr. Getō makes a sound, a hum of contemplative agreement. And, the kitchen is…aggressively domestic. This is about to be the worst first date of your life, you already know—not because it’s going to end poorly, but because you kind of want this man. And, you can’t tell yourself the last time you’ve been on a second date.
Two bowls fill the island—one with spaghetti (spahgeti), one with salad—and a plate of garlic bread. It smells heavenly and your mouth waters, completely forgetting your mission to judge this man into unattractiveness.
(Though, there’s nothing to judge. All it says is that he’s quite organized, and loves his daughters.)
You notice a familiar drawing pinned to the fridge—it’s a simple one, with three stick figures holding hands, the two on the ends much shorter than the one in the middle. They stand on a poorly crayoned field, and the names mimi, nana, and papa are written above their respective figures in black crayon, along with a date in the corner.
“They drew that the first day of class,” Mr. Getō reminisces, coming around the counter to get a better look. The date lines up—as does the fact that you struggled to place it. “Came home ranting about how they wanted Miss Y/N to be their mama.”
You snort, and ignore every feeling in your being—including the weight of the plate in your hands. It doesn’t drop, though. “Kids have no shame.”
“None. Especially mine.” Mr. Getō adds, moving past you to rummage through a cupboard. Then, offering, “Water? Also—help yourself.”
As your eyes follow his arm when he gestures to the counter, your stomach grumbles on cue. It’s not your fault you don’t know how to cook. You nod, grabbing the giant plastic spoon, and try your best to not seem greedy.
“Yes, please! This looks so good, Mr. Getō, I—”
“Suguru,” he corrects, and you nearly jump. He’s behind you, now, reaching for something, you don’t know, you’re not paying attention. Suguru, your brain goes. Suguru, Suguru, Suguru—
“Y’know, I don’t think I ever knew your first name,” you realize aloud, taking the last spoonful you’ll allow yourself. He drifts away to fill the glasses with water, and you exhale, finally being able to breathe. You move onto the salad.
“That’s it?” He asks and hands you a glass, eyeing your plate. You gulp. Did you fuck up, already?”
“Have some more.” And then, he’s grabbing another spoonful of spaghetti—one much fuller than any of the three you gave yourself. “Please—I made so much food.”
“Well, yeah,” you defend. “But, y’know, Nanako and Mimiko are gonna eat some, so—”
“And, they’re five. They eat this much,” Suguru takes the plate from you (you’ve lost your privileges, clearly) and fills the spoon again, lifting it in the air like it represents ‘this much.’ “It’s okay if you don’t finish it, I just—I want to make sure you get enough.”
He hands the plate back to you, not before adding two pieces of garlic bread, much heavier than you found it. It’s accompanied by a sheepish smile, one that makes it seem like he’s digging a grave for himself deeper than necessary. Your heart swells nonetheless. Then, you stomp on it, chanting stupid, stupid, stupid, because, if you think he isn’t doing this just to humor his daughters, you’d be just that. Stupid.
“Oh!” You remember, “I also brought wine—I don’t know if you’re, like, a wine guy, or not, but—”
“Sure,” Suguru shrugs as he starts to fill his own plate. You waver with your own by the threshold, because you don’t know what to do otherwise. “There are wine glasses on the table. Let’s pop it open.”
“Yes, now kiss! K-I-S-S-I-N—”
“Shhhh—they’re going to hear us!”
“Opa!”
You love opening a wine bottle. You love the pop of the cork, the resistance from the air—but, you let Suguru open it this time. Because, God forbid your elbow goes flying, or the cork, and you knock over one of his lovely candles, and set his very nice place on fire. Suguru scrunches his nose with a smile at your exclamation. You remember where you are, again.
“Sorry,” you recant, and Suguru just shakes his head, slowly filling your glass.
“No—I like it when you’re comfortable.”
With that, he passes the glass back and smiles, and you…ignore what he just said, actually. Because, you’re already a hop, skip, and a jump from falling for this man, and there is absolutely no point in doing that.
“What do you do for work?” You ask instead, because anything other than small talk would turn garbled. Suguru eyes lift from his own filling glass, to you, like it was a question he wasn’t expecting.
“Oh, um, I’m a Lit professor, actually.”
“Lit as in…literature, or as in lit-lit, like turnt lit?” You’re reaching, you doubt the word lit is anywhere in Suguru’s vocabulary unless he means literature, but you just need to double-check.
“As in literature,” he chuckles, swirling wine around the glass like a professional. “I, unfortunately, doubt any of my students would refer to me as lit.”
“You never know,” you shrug, taking a bite. After a swallow and a hum, you nod. “This is really good.”
“Thanks,” he grins, and takes a sip of the wine. His eyes widen, like he wasn’t expecting it, but, “so is this.”
You thank him in return, and silence comes back screaming. You hate to say it’s because you’re stuffing your face, and you try to do so as politely as possible, but you are, and it’s not your fault—the food is good, and you haven’t found time in between grading obscure drawings and letter identification tests to eat today.
Suguru props a chin on his hand and watches you eat, swirling his glass again—you start to wonder if that’s just something he does with his hands. It isn’t until you realize his fork is clean, food untouched, that you finally falter. With food in your cheeks, no less.
“…Are you not hungry?”
Suguru blinks himself to the present, and whatever look he wore dissipates into his usual. He picks the fork up, after that.
“Yes, sorry,” he huffs a laugh at himself, seemingly self-deprecating. “You’re cute, is all.”
You start choking—partially, because you had the bright idea to swallow when he opened his mouth. You try to wash it down with wine, but when it only prickles the itch, you choose water instead.
“Sorry, was that too forward?” He asks, with a smirk, which makes you think he doesn’t mean it. Not in the genuine way, at least. You wave it off, recovering and trying to breathe through the embarrassment of choking on a noodle like a child.
“No,” you croak, though you want to say yes, but not in a bad way. “No, I’m just…”
You’re just what? Floored? Flabbergasted? Fucking sweating beyond repair?
“Flattered,” you finish. You should probably slow down on the food before you give yourself a stomach ache, but most of it is already gone. Suguru smiles as he chews behind a hand.
“Good.”
You are going to scream. What the fuck is this.
Because, you’re quickly beginning to learn, Mr. Getō and Suguru are two very different people. And, while Mr. Getō is hot, yes, Suguru is…
“What do you think they’re doing, right now?” Suguru’s eyes dart to the hallway, and you snicker.
“Probably eavesdropping!” You yell the last word, only to hear tiny feet scatter. Shaking your head, you mutter, “nosy.”
Suguru snorts. “Tell me about it.”
“Oh, I will,” you nod, unfortunately getting comfortable enough to yap. Well. There it goes—the second date. There it goes, sprinting out the door and on a flight to a different country, until the concept of a second date is no longer feasible. “Those two in class? Little rascals. Sometimes, I have to separate them.”
“Lucky,” Suguru laments with a chuckle. “Wish I could do that at home.”
You shrug, and take a sip of wine. “I’m complaining, but. They’re good kids. They’re smart, and they liven up the place. Even help other kids if they finish their work early—though, that’s mainly Mimiko…Nanako always finds something to do. You did good.”
“Thanks,” Suguru says, and suddenly, the burning candlelight is much more interesting than your face. “I get…worried, you know? That they don’t have a mom.”
“Sure, but,” and you look into the hallway again, wondering if the girls came back, how much of the conversation they can actually hear. “They’ve got you. And, from what I hear, you fill both roles spectacularly.”
Suguru shrugs. “I try.”
Suguru shrugs, and you overstep. Possibly. Maybe. “Am I allowed to ask what happened?”
“Oh,” he laughs, tight and bordering on bitter, with eyes trained tight on the plate before him. “I’m, um, technically not their dad. We’re related—cousins, but I’ve been taking care of them since they were babies. Their parents, uh, weren’t exactly up to the task.”
He keeps it vague but answers anyway. You take the hint, and don’t pry anymore. There’s a part of you that relaxes at that fact, the fact that there isn’t another woman, but you berate yourself for it immediately. It doesn’t seem like a good thought to have.
“Well—I think you’re the best dad they could ask for. This spahgeti? Fire.”
Suguru laughs, for what you realize, is technically the very first time—not around words or to hide behind, but an actual laugh, that rumbles from his belly outward with a smile that crowds his eyes. You want to hear it again, and again, and again, until you’re too dizzy, and have to get off the ride, or else.
He’s still smiling upon recovery. “You’re sweet.”
You frown, “but, I mean it!”
Suguru snorts, and looks back down to his plate. That smile doesn’t fade.
“I know.”
Dinner goes by faster than you want it to.
To stall, you offer to help with the dishes. Suguru doesn’t let you—but he does let you stay.
“—and then, she said God fucking shit.”
“No,” you gasp from your seat by the kitchen island. Suguru nods wisely.
“Oh, yes,” he hisses. You ignore the way his back works as he dries the last dish, opting to fiddle with a ring on your finger instead of drool, but, occasionally, lift to partake in the sinfully domestic sight. “I wish the walls weren’t so thin when I stub my toe, but.”
“But, they’re always listening,” you finish with a giggle, because, been there, done that. Suguru huffs in agreement.
“Yes,” Suguru laments, and after placing the dry dish into a cupboard, turns to you. “Top five most horrifying moments of my life when I heard her say it.”
“I can imagine. I…also stubbed my toe a while ago, said dammit, and we had a kid that wouldn’t stop saying it for weeks. Had to explain it to his parents and everything,” you sigh. The embarrassment from the whole situation comes back in full force as you tuck a head into your hands. He chuckles, placing the towel over the sink.
“Sounds like you have it worse than me.”
“Meh, only from 8-5,” you shrug, but he shakes his head.
“Exactly,” Suguru insists while resting a forearm on the island across from you. “And I have mine from 5-8—but only two kids, not twenty.”
“They wrangle each other, half the time,” you wave. “Quiet Coyote works wonders.”
“I’m sure it does,” Suguru chuckles, and stands up, pushing away from the counter. “Let me walk you out.”
Ah, yes. It’s that time, now, isn’t it?
Suguru walks you the few steps to the door, it not being too far from the kitchen. You’re about to say goodbye, maybe shake his hand or something else equally awkward—whatever people do after first dates when they don’t go horribly. But, the second you reach the foyer, little feet come bounding around the corner.
“You’re leaving already?”
“No, stay! We can have a sleepover!”
You giggle when Suguru sighs, getting down on a knee to turn to his daughters. “Girls—We’ve taken up enough of her time. Miss Y/N has a life outside of class, you know.”
Which, is false, but you appreciate the sentiment nonetheless. They whine and pout but Suguru has the last word, and after you hug them goodbye, he sends them to their rooms. Knowing them, they’re still lingering in the hallway, hiding behind a wall.
“Good to know they had fun, too,” you snort, and Suguru stands, fighting a smile and failing.
“Nosy little brats,” he mutters under his breath. Then, hollering over his shoulder, “Go to bed, you two!”
More shuffling feet, and you sigh. “They’re not going to bed.”
“Nope,” Suguru shakes his head in agreement. “Not at all.”
“Well, um, that’s my cue,” you say, stilted, and tightening the grip on your purse. “I should probably go before the trains stop running.”
“Oh! Yes,” Suguru says, like he forgot, and like he expected to linger with you in his doorway forever. “I had fun.”
“I did, too.”
Suguru makes no move to let you out—and you make no move to leave, because you don’t know how his front door works, whether you have to unlock before you exit, and would prefer to avoid embarrassing yourself after an genuinely decent night. Suguru scratches the back of his head.
“I was wondering, actually, if you’d like to go on a proper date,” he says it around a breath, one he was holding. “One without my daughters right around the corner.”
“We’re not listening!”
“…Like that,” he mutters, but you’re too busy trying to make sure your feet are firmly planted on his lovely wooden flooring, not floating in the air on cloud nine.
“Oh, as in,” you breathe, and promptly black out. Hopefully, you say something that makes enough sense. “Uh, yeah. Yep. Definitely down for that.”
“Okay, great,” he smiles, and it’s that smile again, the one you want to bottle and keep forever. “When are you available?”
“Oh, whenever,” you say, before you realize you should dial it back, dial it way back. “I mean—uh, preferably not school days, but I’m pretty free on the weekends.”
“How about a week from now? Next Saturday.”
Next Saturda—do you even have time to purge your closet by next Saturday?
“Sure, sounds good.”
“Ice cream, Papa!”
“No.”
“Pleaaaaase?”
“No.”
“Pretty please with a cherry on top?”
“…Fine.”
“Really?!”
Monday comes, and you’re fucking terrified.
Because, Suguru is a guy straight out of a YA novel—and you don’t know whether he asked you out again to humor his kids, again (you’re in denial), or if a guy that you actually find physically and emotionally attractive wants to go on a date with you. Again.
But, you’re about to find out, because—
“Good Morning, Miss Y/N!”
You put on a brave face, the bravest face you can muster. Also, just your luck, you’re running out of laundry, and instead of doing it Saturday night like you usually do, you went to Suguru’s. Sunday, you were too busy panicking to be useful. So, yes, maybe you have on the ugliest cat sweater you own—but it was either that, or a cacti shirt.
“Good Morning, girls, how was your weekend?” You ask, before quickly realizing playing dumb was not the way to go.
“It was good! You made Papa so happy he took us to get ice cream the next day, and he never does that!” Nanako tries to whisper, but she’s a child with little control over her vocal chords, and you flinch.
“Oh, really?”
Mimiko nods in agreement—but, before she can respond, Suguru is quick in ushering them deeper into the room and, more importantly, away from you.
“They need to stop telling on me,” Suguru chuckles as he returns to usual perch by the doorway. “Like, now.”
You giggle. “That’s all kids ever do, Sug—I mean, Mr. Getō.”
You’re sweating. That was a close one.
“Suguru,” he corrects, looking at you with eyes bordering on a beg. “Please.”
“Well, Suguru,” you say, swallowing panic when another parent gives you an appalled look. “Uh, how was your weekend?”
“It was nice,” he nods, watching the room. “My daughters harassed this woman into going on a date with me. Luckily, I already had my eye on her.”
Oh, you think, and try to wrack your brain for who it could be. Definitely not you.
Your stuck, actually, literally frozen, despite the sweat forming at the small of your back. Suguru keeps talking. “Six, again? I’ll pick you up.”
And, because your brain is stupid, and, you don’t know, maybe he wants to go on a hike or something—
“Wait—am or pm?”
Suguru snorts. “Pm.”
Oh. That’s like, date-date time. Though, you suppose it was last time, but this is an actual date, not a ‘my daughters won’t quit unless we do this’ date.
“Sure, yeah. Totally—six is great.”
Suguru squeezes your hand before he leaves for the day. His harem of single moms glare like you killed the child support they get from their divorcees. And you…
You almost forget to put Nanako and Mimiko’s lunch boxes in the fridge. Almost.
— in which! you could name a few facts about leon on the tippy top of your head, but, well, maaaaaaaybe there were some exceptions.
wordcount! 4.7k (what)
warning! hey so i lied, MDNI, explicit smut (first time writing c'mon give me a chance), cliché, idiots in love, childhood best friends trope, absolute teeth-rotting stuff, very and i mean very LIGHT ANGST like i swear it's just a dabble, LEON IS AN EATER (oral, f-receiving), fingering, p in v, dirty talk, heavy make-out sesh, light praise kink, light degradation kink, light condescending praise, size kink if you squint, sumn sumn leon being leon, snowballing if you squint, possessive f! reader, cockdrunk f!reader, dom! leon, pussydrunk! leon, leon whimpering, one mention of bleeding (not while fucking), bro i swear this was NOT supposed to be a smut i was js thinking w my phantom 13-inch dick okay? OKAY!
loosely inspired by: please by bts (and my thirteen-inch phantom dick)
LEON S. KENNEDY IS A MAN OF FEW WORDS. He likes to keep things simple. Minimal. Straight to the point. That’s just the kind of man he is. He likes his coffee black and his pastries with less sugar.
“Great day, welcome to Annie’s Café. What can I get you?” It was early, and the employee’s tone sounded fake—which, honestly, okay, valid—it’s the crack ass of dawn and the birds still haven’t sung to their heart’s content. No shit the employee sounded ready to clock out, even if they just arrived. Drive-thrus included.
“I’d like two iced Spanish lattes in large with a box of macarons, please,” Leon replied, politely, as if nothing could rain on his parade. He’d been feeling quite peckish, as of late, and he thinks it’s because he’s been hanging out with you too much after each grueling mission.
Now who was he fooling? Himself, obviously. Mission or not, he’s still banging on your door. Too much, unfortunately, to the point that you—begrudgingly—shoved him your spare key the next day so you could actually experience shitting in peace again, and he could just waltz in as he pleases.
“Okay, anything else?” The tired voice of the server blaring from the speaker wrenched him out of his reverie. He shook his head once, twice, then, as if remembering something, he answered, “Make that three boxes. And add that Mango Rose Tart Special, thanks.”
“Okay, please proceed to the next window to claim and have a nice day ahead. Hope to see you next time at Annie’s!” The voice from the speaker sounded tired—dripping with faux cheeriness, but nonetheless, moving to serve his ridiculous order of freshly baked boxes of macarons and a tart, with cold-brewed lattes.
Nodding to himself, mentally patting his back as a job well done, he drove towards the next window, picking up his (rather bulky) order with a dashing half-smile that made the servers thank the gods that pretty people with huge biceps exist. If that was their reward for baking at 3:00 am, they’d gladly make some more.
Jesus, he can’t wait to return to you.
⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆
LEON S. KENNEDY DISLIKES NOISY MORNINGS. He likes to keep things quiet. Peaceful. Alone. Moping around and wagging his imaginary tail to see you—wait, what?
“Sweets! I bought sweets.” Leon nuzzled at your peacefully sleeping form after carefully putting the boxes on your dining table and shoving the lattes into your fridge. His arms automatically hooked into your waist, pulling you impossibly closer to his chest, greedily taking your warmth for himself. He felt you moving, settling quite nicely, and making yourself comfortable in his hold.
“You’re noisy.” He heard you mumble in his chest, but he couldn’t care less. Hooking his chin at the top of your head, he breathes in your scent, inhaling the fragrance of your shampoo and your detergent, utterly content with being suffocated by—well—you.
“You act as if I care.” He hummed, taming your messy bedhead with soft pats, gently weaving his fingers through your hair as if patting an incredibly sleepy chinchilla.
Christ, he could melt just by looking at you. You looked adorable. Your naturally pouty lips jutted as your eyes remained closed, looking utterly at peace. Blissfully unaware of your effect on him. He thinks it’s unfair. How you just breathe, and he’s already at your beck and call. How the sun peeks through your windows perfectly frames your figure, making you look utterly devastating. How your hair just cascades perfectly on your shoulders, looking like messy waves that just fit.
How he thinks he wanted to be a little more than just a best friend.
“Mhm, stay.” He felt arms slowly snaking around his body, and he swore his heart rate sped up. He’s sure you heard it, too—with how your face was pressed into his chest. And he would’ve been embarrassed if he hadn’t felt you nuzzle—burying your nose in between his soft pectorals. Each puff of breath was hot, rendering his brain pathetically useless—a putty in your embrace.
“F-for breakfast?” Yeah, real smooth, Leon. What a stuttering sweet-talker you are. Proud of you, son.
“Forever.”
Then you were awake, staring at those huge cerulean eyes that reminded you of the vast seas. Gods, he was beautiful. Would it be too greedy to wish to wake up every morning with this sight? With Leon’s flushed cheeks and soft eyes that scream longing and affection?
Oh wait, maybe you’re projecting.
⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆
LEON S. KENNEDY HATES BEING TIED DOWN. He despises commitments with passion. Almost pukes at the mere mention of it, actually. He doesn’t do all that lovey-dovey shit. He isn’t clingy—hates to be that person, in fact. He likes being alone, surrounded by his thoughts. That’s his favorite pastime, actually. He—okay, what the fuck. Who wrote this? This script is wrong. Someone is getting fired.
The air in the dining room feels light. Comfortable. The rays of the sun softly peeking through, the birds by the windows singing their hearty tune, and Leon taking care of you, just as usual. You like this routine: drinking coffee while chatting with your favorite person, just as the sun rises like a beautiful backdrop.
“Let’s make us official.”
You almost spat your coffee, heart suddenly—*violently—*hammering inside your ribcage, begging to be let out. You think it’s palpitations. The iced Spanish latte does its job at roughhousing your nervous system to the point that you think you’re hallucinating shit at like 7:46 am in the morning. You’re not equipped with the right knowledge for this conversation. It feels like your cells just burst.
“W-what?” You replied, with all the neurons and brain cells working overtime. They’re like three combined, so it’s not really that hard of a job when all you could think about was Katseye’s Gnarly chorus on loop. And maybe your hot-fucking-childhood-best-friend-that-acts-more-like-a-boyfriend-than-best-friend-but-you-digress.
“I mean, we’re not blind. As much as we’d like to deny it, we can’t run away from this conversation forever.” If there was hesitation in Leon’s voice, you couldn’t pinpoint it. And if his hands were mildly trembling beneath the surface of the table, you couldn’t see it. But you’d be damned if you couldn’t feel the tension rapidly resurfacing while the conversation continued.
“I can run away right now.”
“Sweets.”
“Lee.”
Leon sighed, as if he could already feel a headache coming. “I can catch you.”
“I’ll run even faster.” See, your tongue is your greatest enemy here.
“You talk too much.”
“You can shut me up.”
You knew someday that your sharp tongue would be the death of you. You got into so much trouble as a child because of it. Your aunties and uncles often get offended by your blunt words, while your little cousins seem to enjoy it. Your parents often scolded you, urging you to school your sharp tongue and witty replies, specifying it’ll bite you in the ass in the future. You didn’t give a fuck. Little you know who you were from a very young age.
You knew, and you were well-aware.
You just didn’t expect to be bitten right now.
Not that you would complain—oh god, no. You’d die happily.
“What?”
“What?”
Leon was staring at you as if he’d like to do exactly that. You don’t blame him—you’d like to do exactly that, too. You’re just… scared.
Scared to lose him.
Scared to lose the sacred friendship you built since you were in literal diapers.
Scared to mess it up so bad, you’d break up.
Scared to fuck it up, he’d end up lea—
“Whatever you’re thinking of, stop. It won’t happen.” Leon suddenly spoke up, looking at you, even if you avoided it. You hate how he knows you like the back of his hand.
Then, he sighed. Leaning closer towards you, hovering his hand over yours. He doesn’t touch, no. He waits. Patiently. “I won’t let it.” He said, barely a breath louder.
Oh, how you hate how easily he makes your resolve crumble.
You’d pity yourself if only you weren’t exactly where you want to be.
You took a deep breath, looking at his eyes after, letting your fears swirl in your irises and baring your emotions in front of him. It’s just… you weren’t used to being vulnerable, okay? Not when you’ve forced yourself into accepting whatever the fuck life throws in your way, simply choosing to laugh it off rather than to mope somewhere all day.
But this? This sudden vulnerability? This sudden confession—no, it never really was sudden. It had been subtle, yes, but you really shouldn’t have been surprised. You’ve been tiptoeing around—crossed, even—the friendship boundary roughly about a few years ago, after that incident in damned Raccoon City.
Now for the record, choosing to go with Leon to venture to that place was on you. You knew he’d be fucked up, being blacked out drunk the night prior—you would know, you were with him at the bar. You get it, the night he just wanted to forget being dumped by his asshole ex. And well, maybe you just wanted to go to RC because you were curious about his workplace, okay? Sue you for being nosy.
You just haven’t expected it to be, for lack of better terms, infested with rotting undead corpses who wanted you for breakfast, lunch, dinner, and dessert.
That definitely wasn’t how you wanted to start your Monday.
“Leon, I…” You felt your nails digging through your palm, leaving crescent indents. It grounded you. “I want to, I really fucking do. I don’t think I have to confess when I’ve always been obvious.” Something dripped, maybe it was crimson from your hands or clear from your eyes. “I’m just scared. So fucking scared.”
You couldn’t face him, swallowed by your cowardly brain, and yet, you couldn’t stop your mouth from speaking every unsaid thought that plagued you. It has a mind of its own.
“I’m scared. What if you wake up one day and realize that I wasn’t the one you’d like to spend your future with? What if you realize that you just settled for the safest option? Because I’m not her, I will never be her—god, fuck! I wanted to be her, but fuck my life, I’m not. I could never do the things she could—I’m basically useless without you. What if I fuck this up? Fuck it up so bad, I’d lose you?”
You were spiraling. Your mind was clouded, as if the dam had been broken and every word was just falling out uncontrollably.
“I like you. No, fucking hell, that’s lackluster. I’m fucking in love with you, and I hate that my stupid brain keeps spewing nonsense and my mouth couldn’t fucking shut up and it’s exposing me!”
And finally, god, finally. Your eyes finally darted at him.
He didn’t look surprised. God, no. It’s so much worse.
He looked soft. As if something unbelievable finally happened. As if he were just waiting for those words to come out of your damn mouth.
“You’re in love with… me?” Leon uttered—no, it was barely a whisper. It was disbelief and relief, all at once. Packaged like a buy-one-get-me-free sale. His soft cerulean eyes were shining with something suspiciously akin to unshed tears. It was apparent, even if he was looking far from you, staring at his now-empty cup and leftover ice.
“Was that all you’ve heard?” While you, you were puzzled. You knew he was a little fucked up, but damn, all those ramblings and that’s all he registered?
As if finally collected his bearings, Leon looked at you, fighting that watery smile that didn’t seem to get off, no matter how hard he tried. “It was all that mattered.” He choked out, biting his lip as a tear finally dropped.
And another.
Then another.
Until it flowed freely like a beautiful waterfall.
“I couldn’t care less. Shit, I just wanted you.” Leon rasped, “Fucking hell, all I’ve ever wanted—no, needed was you.” Trembling, his hands grasped yours, engulfing them whole. He traced little shaky hearts, his fingers still absentmindedly trembling as he stared at your skin, shying away from your gaze.
“All you, Sweets. Always you.” He lifted your hand, prompting it to cup his cheek. With his eyes closed, he melted into your warmth, exhaling a stuttered breath before looking into your eyes. “Always had been, always will be.”
It was whispered.
The promise.
Barely above a whisper.
But the devotion was loud.
Too fucking loud, it echoed through your heart, silencing your stupid brain’s unnecessary provocations.
“You dumb fuck.” You croaked. Before swiftly crossing the table to suffocate in his embrace. You hugged him like he was your lifeline, burying your face in the crook of his neck, inhaling his stupefying scent.
Leon did the same, nosing your hair and pulling you to his lap. His head was filled with nothing but you, his arms wrapped in you like a warm cocoon. Peppering light kisses, while his hands fiddled with the ends of your hair, tracing feather-light patterns on your clothed skin. “Your dumb fuck, I suppose?”
“Mine.” You replied, cheekily pecking his neck, feeling the goosebumps run through his spine. “You learn fast.”
“Mhm, shut up.”
Then suddenly, his hand was on your cheek, guiding you towards his plush lips. And damn, you fucking melted, your lips moved as if you were already accustomed to his, moving in sync, like a mad rhythm waiting to be played. The kiss was tender, full of longing and secret devotion shared. It felt like whiskey, something strong, harsh yet addicting. It was heavy with regret—regret of why you haven’t done this much sooner, how you’ve lasted this long without each other’s constant touch, when you’ve realized all you needed was each other, and what’s stopping you from fully destroying the quote-unquote bounder-less boundaries you’ve been too afraid to fully cross.
And was quickly replaced by need—full hunger that aches to restore time that was lost. There was heat when he parted your mouth with his tongue, curling around yours like a waltz that seeks to devour you whole. Your throat bubbles with whines you don’t even bother suppressing, because he drank it with vigor. He kisses you like he was starved, tongue fondling with yours, curling and stroking until your head was fucked and air was a foreign concept for losers.
You felt his large hands grope your ass, snaking down to grab a hold of your thighs, manhandling you so you’re straddling him, clothed drenched cunt to clothed hard cock. It made you whimper, embarrassing sounds escaping your lips while he rolled his hips, catching your clit. Writhing in his hold, your mouth left his as you tugged his shirt, signaling that you want it gone.
He obliged with a husky chuckle, “Impatient, aren’t you? My needy baby.” Leon’s voice dropped an octave lower, swiftly pulling his shirt off to reveal his muscular build. Before your head could catch a fraction of what you were doing, your hands were already tracing his sculptured lines. Nimble hands flying from the sides of his neck, lightly circling his pebbled nipples (which made him stutter a breathless gasp), dropping lower to his chiseled abs, feeling the deep ridges and subtly grinding on his hard cock.
“F-fuck, sweets. Like what you see?”
“Very.”
Oh, maybe you shouldn’t have done that.
Because suddenly, you’re very afraid of what will happen next.
Maybe your legs would cease to work.
Maybe your voice would refuse to come out.
Maybe his cock would be wrung dry.
And maybe you’d like that.
Leon groaned in response, hauling you up with one arm while his other arm busied itself gripping the back of your scalp, under your soft hair, pulling you closer as his tongue bullied yours yet again. Your arms flew to his neck, inching yourself even closer as you felt him move—walking to what you would assume to be your bedroom.
Plopping you down on your bed, you bounced twice—twice too long for Leon, apparently, as he found himself in between your thighs, rip, rip, ripping your clothes to shreds. His hand found purchase in your bra, swiftly unhooking it with a snap. It would’ve been impressive if not for his tongue immediately lapping your pebbled nipple, calloused hand playing and massaging the other one.
“Fuck, baby,” he panted, sucking lazy kisses that would for sure bruise. “Y’taste too sweet. Shit, you really are my sweets.” Then, you felt a hazy, sharp pain, looking down to see a bite mark right before your areola—all red and new as he stares at you with hooded eyes. Cerulean eyes that seemed to deepen with each passing second, pupils all blown out and dilated as if you were the only drug he’s willing to indulge in.
Then, he switched to your other nipple, slobbering and giving it the same attention as the other one. Little zigzags as his tongue traced your areola to your hardened nipple. Fuck, it was a mess of spit and bites as he sucked wet kisses down your stomach, fiddling the strings of your sleep shorts and tugging them down with the patience of a saint—well, if the saint was being chased by a rather aggressive wolf in a two-by-two world build.
“Fuckin’ look amazing, gorgeous.” Leon huffed, kissing the side seams of your panties and lifting your thigh, placing it on his broad shoulder, his face lightly pressing your inner thighs as he scattered wet kisses—his light stubble scratching you involuntarily, arching your back with light whines.
His warm puffs of breath tickled you, moaning as your fingers travel to his scalp. “S-stop teasing m—” You stuttered, before a sharp whine catches on the back of your throat.
Fuck, it was hot. His warm tongue lapped the gusset of your drenched panties, tasting you just from the fabric. Desperate licks as he sucked, blunt nails digging through your thighs as your arousal seeps through the ruined cloth. Then, his lips found purchase on your clothed (almost transparent) clit, sucking and sucking with the scratchy—wet—fabric adding the stupefying sensations.
The room was filled with your ah-ah-ah!’s while Leon was having the time of his life in between your legs. It wasn’t until you heard a small rip-rip-rip until ypu realized that oh! you’re fucked.
Leon groaned, immediately devouring your fucking pussy. “Fuckin’ hell, sweetheart. Y’ve been keeping t’is from me?” He slurred, tracing your folds with his tongue, fucking you with zigzags that ranged from lazy to vigorous spurts of energy. He eats you out like he was starved and you were the only meal he needed to survive. He flicked his tongue on your clit, swirlin’ and sucking, then going back to your drippy hole where he collects your sweet fuckin’ sap. “Shit—haah—so fuckin’ wet for me—juuuust for me, sweets?”
“C’mon, baby. Gimme more, yeah? Fuuuuuck, y’can gimme more.” Leon rasped, greedily sucking your twitchy, engorged clit, then switching to tongue-fuck your drippy hole, curling and stroking your stretchy walls. While you? You were (s)creaming, throat scratchy with strings of curses, with drool collecting on the corner of your lips—precisely why you barely registered his thick finger entering you, stretching your poor pussy out while his tongue continued to abuse your poor clit. “P-please.”
The burn was insane—insanely fucking delicious, your head was swarming with dizzying pleasure. “F—s-shit, m-more—mhmn—a-aah!” You don't even remember what you were doing, barely even remembering your name. All you could think about was Leon, Leon, Leon.
You felt another finger, scissoring, curling inside your gummy walls. Reaching into the depths of your spongy weakness—making you scream, thrashing into his hold to the point that he has no choice but to wrap his strong arm around your abdomen to halt your involuntary actions.
And then another.
Three fingers, knuckles deep, assaulting your insides—hammering into your fucking g-spot, while his tongue continues to suck the living soul out of your poor hypersensitive nub.
“S-shit, ‘m close—fuuuuuck—‘m close!” You rasped, tugging Leon’s soft locks as your body convulsed—unravelling, coming undone. Eyes rolling back to the back of your skull until all you could see was white, and the coil on your abdomen violently snapping as liquids flew like a damn waterfall.
And Leon? Yeah, he wasn’t done. Still lapping your juices as you spill it all out. Even after your high was released, his mouth was still moving, still making out with your oversensitive pussy, still greedily sucking your juices, even if you tried to pull away, running from his strong embrace. God, no. He just pulls you back even closer, burying his nose in your clit while his tongue circles your hole.
He’s determined to fuck your brains out so good, you’d stop thinking of pointless possibilities that would never fucking happen as long as he’s alive. Why would he think about other women when he’s got you splayed out for him like a fucking five-course meal, just his for taking? Why would he think about the irrelevant fucking future when his past and present were spent with you? All you, baby. All fucking you.
“Oh, fuck—Leon—!!”
Did he say that out loud? Because by the look of it, he did. Your glassy, heart eyes say it so.
“Like that, sweets? That I’m aaaaaall yours? Yeah?” Leon grunts, standing up so he could hover over you, kissing you, all spit, come, and tongue. His tongue—god, his tongue, you love his fucking tongue—coiled around yours. Fucking your mouth while his hand unbuckled his belt, tugging off his pants in a swift motion. You caught sight of his drenched boxers, spurts of wetness visible through the grey fabric. It made you whine on his mouth, eyes fluttering shut as you basked in the sensation.
“Bet you fuckin’ loved that, didn’t you, sweetheart? Loved the fact that I came untouched by eating you out, mhm?” He whispered on your lips, slightly pulling away as his lips reattached to your neck, sucking and kissing deep reds and purples once more. “Didn't even need to grind, fuck, y’r cunt’s allll I need, baby. Drives me fuckin’ insane.”
Just as quickly, you felt something hard and hot pulsing on your fluttering cunt. Blinking—willing your eyes to open, you saw his massive cock—long, pretty, veiny and fucking girthy as you swallowed dry. Shivers traveled down your spine, suddenly very fuckin’ afraid if it’ll even fit.
Leon chuckled, as if sensing your hesitation. His hand moved to cup your cheek while his other traced circles in your hips, grounding you. “It’ll fit, baby. I’ll make it fit.” His tone was soft, his thumb caressing your cheek as he wills you to look at his eyes—but damn, his words were nasty. “Gonna make sure y’r head’s full of my cock, my pretty baby. Y’like that?”
See, you would’ve responded. All sweet and high-pitchy. Instead, moans were the only thing that left your lips when you felt his cock nudge your outer lips, teasing your cunt as you felt Leon spreading your legs further, bullying your cunt until his tip finally fuckin’ entered your stretchy hole.
“F-fuhck! Mhmnn—!!” You stuttered, already feelin’ fucking full. Still too hypersensitive from your earlier release. “S’jus the t-tip?”
It made Leon puff out a breathy chuckle, moving his hips little by little, small thrusts to fit snugly inside you. “Y-yeah, baby. Still jus’ the tip. ‘m sure y’can fit more inches here, yeah?” He drawled out, his fingers tracing to what he would assume to be where his dick would fit. “J-jus’ tell me if y’need a break, ‘kay?”
Then he thrusts, parting your gummy walls, impaling you with his thick, veiny cock fully. And you did nothing but take it, enjoying every second of being fucked dumb by Leon and hearing his damn cute whines. He wasn't afraid to be vocal, oh god no. He was loud. Groaning with each mean thrust on your cunt—whining as he repeatedly pounds your g-spot, making you drool on your sheets.
“Y-yeah? L-like that, baby? Oh fuuck—” Cutting himself off with a groan, he felt you clench—squeezing his damn cock so tight, he had to will himself not to cum that fast. “Sweet girl, you're—ngh—y’r fuckin’ suffocatin’ me.”
You did nothin’ but whimper, and he did nothin’ but take you to pound town.
Leon’s stamina was more than fucking impressive; his unrelenting thrusts were constant and damn consistent, roughly loving and disrespecting you all at the same time. You felt stuffed to the brim with his thick shaft, his calloused thumb traveling to rub mean circles on your clit as you moaned for mercy. The repeated plap-plap-plap of his skin slapping yours was nasty, and his erratic ministrations of your body felt like heaven. You think you could stay like this forever.
“Yeah, b-baby? Fuuuuuuckin’ think you could stay like t’is for—nghh!—forever?” He groaned at the shell of your ear, darting his tongue to flick at the sensitive lobe. “Think ‘m doin’ somethin’ wrong, y’shouldn’t be thinkin’ at alllll.” He croons, tone deep and mocking, manhandling your thighs, folding you in half.
“Wha—Lee!! Oh fuck, Leoooooon—!!” All you could do was squeak, your voice going an octave higher—something you didn’t even know you were capable of, as he jackhammers into your cunt. Fucking you senseless and so utterly stupid, abusing your spongy g-spot with precise thrusts. And you could only retaliate by fucking up his back, scratching while your back gives out.
You swore you heard him whimper in delight.
Your five senses consist of staring at Leon’s fucked out face, smelling Leon’s heady scent, tasting your cum and Leon’s saliva still on your lips, hearing Leon’s sharp grunts and gasps—occasionally his small whimpers as he hits a rather deep spot, and—fuck—feeling Leon’s thick cock spearheading your tight cunt, feeling him twitch as his veins tickled your insides.
Yeah, you won’t be walking, alright.
⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆
LEON S. KENNEDY IS ALL OF THOSE THINGS, BUT MAYBE THERE MIGHT BE EXCEPTIONS (YOU).
“Fuck you, Kennedy. Fuckyoufuckyoufuckyou!” You groaned, the feeling of your legs still not returning after a day and a half of full bed rest.
The person charged guilty was found chuckling, eating ice cream, and faaaaaar away from where your wrath could grasp him in the neck (he’d like that). “Ouch, babe. Kennedy? Seriously? Who’s that?”
Aaaaaand then ducking, as if he could already feel the pillow heading toward his head without directly looking at it.
“Fuck you and your stupid fucking stamina and your stupid fucking words—ugh! I am never sleeping with you ever again!”
“You kiss your boyfie with that potty mouth?” He whistled, “Damn.”
“Oh, you dick!” You threw him your plushy, the same thing he gave a few years ago—all purpley and stupid. Cute, but stupid.
“Nine inches, baby. And a grower—hey! Not my child.” Leon pouted, catching the plushy with both hands, then patting in the head as if it truly had feelings.
“Fuckin’ suffocate!”
“In those thighs? Bet.”
“Asshole—!!”
“We could try that, too.”
“Urgh!” You threw your hands up, huffing, as you slumped back in your (thank god wasn’t broken) bed.
imsorryimsorryimsorryiwantmore holy fuck i don't know what i wrote and in my defense, my hands started typing shit before i even realized what i was doing okay okay. (did u enjoy it tho? teehee) rbs and comms are greatly appreciated! i work well with praise wink wink wink
they did something and they had to face your silent treatment .ᐟ
ft. nanami, gojo, geto, sukuna, higuruma, shiu
non curse au everyones getting along all that good stuff
tags. lighearted, just them apologizing sweetly
“she told you she celibate, she told me i can nail her shit.”
leon s. kennedy x fem!reader
cw: mdni ! smut, loud sex, kind of rough sex, riding, lowkey fwb, mating press, uhh jealousy if that counts, kissing, lots of pet names (girly, princess, i think i out sweetheart in there), NOT PROOFREAD!!
a/n: based off that one sound on tiktok bc i keep seeing edits 🥹 also high key reminds of heated rivalry “scott hunter is right next door…” LMFAO hope u enjoy!!
Leon hates these stupid work parties. Banquets that could’ve been an email, award ceremonies with medals and badges he would’ve preferred to see in the mail. It’s not like he’s antisocial, he likes to hang out with the people he works with, but a night in a stuffy suit and endless conversations is almost worse than a mission.
Don’t get him started on the plus one bullshit. He simply doesn't have time or patience for a partner, much less at these godforsaken events. He usually goes alone and regretfully suffers the teasing comments—“Oh, alone again Kennedy? No girlfriend this time?”
His only saving grace is you, another agent who he works with on his rare duo missions. You’re just about the only other single person in the entirety of the DSO—that’s what it feels like. Sometimes, you two will sit at events and roll your eyes at people showing off their partners. Then an awkward silence after of a silent agreement ‘cause you both know you’re just envious.
“Do you think we can call in sick?” Leon sighs as you both sit in your hotel room before you have to leave for an event. This ceremony thingy-bullshit is a bigger, more nationwide one that your boss sent you both to. One room, but two beds, at least. Cheapskates knew you didn’t have significant others and didn’t bother with privacy.
“I mean, prolly… but we lowkey might get flamed,” you reply. He leans against the doorway of the bathroom as he watches you do your makeup. The pretty, long dress you have on is a far cry from the tactical gear he usually pairs you with. Both looks are hot as hell, he definitely can’t deny that. He’ll just tuck that secret in his pocket for now.
“Well, hurry up. Maybe we can show up and leave as quick as possible,” he says as he checks his watch and pretends as if he didn’t just try to check you out. Not that it would be the first time.
Extremely unfortunately, you make it to the event, dreading every click of your heels against the marbled floors as you step inside. This one’s clearly expensive and fancy—that’s worse. The bar quickly becomes Leon’s victim. He lets you know he’ll get you a drink while you find them a spot at a table with an easy escape.
Well, he didn’t really expect to come back and find some guy hitting on you. He’s more curious than annoyed, but it’s there. This guy has the audacity to hit on a girl like you?
“Really? They flew you all the way out here, huh? So you’re pretty special,” this idiot smirks, thinking his blinding white teeth are gonna win you over. Leon can tell you’re irritated.
“Sure, you could say that,” you reply with pursed lips and your best disinterested voice. Your gaze shifts briefly to Leon standing behind him who looks amused. You’re only taking note of your drink that he’s holding.
“Well, special lady, would you maybe like to go to dinner with me somewhere more… private?” He lowers his tone leaning in a little, thinking he’s smooth as hell.
“Uh… no, y’know my schedule’s kinda full…” you shake your head, using that very obvious rejection tone. If he hasn’t taken the hint already, he has to take it now, right?
“Okay, no date. Maybe just uh… a night together?”
Nope. You were stupid to think a man would ever take a hint.
His tone makes it obvious what he’s asking, he wants his head under your dress. He says it like he knows you’ll say yes.
“Oh, I’m celibate, actually,” you smile tersely. He gives you a look as if he doesn’t believe you.
“Really? A pretty girl like you isn’t interested in sex?” He raises an eyebrow, taking a step closer as if that’s gonna fix your supposed virginity. “I find that hard to believe, sweetheart.”
“Ah, too bad. Really sucks when not every living female wants to fuck you, huh?” You can’t help but mock, returning the raised brow. “Afraid it’s just gonna be you and your fist tonight.”
He scoffs, trying not to look as offended as he clearly feels. He finally seems to take the hint. “God, some special lady you are,” he grumbles, pushing off the chair he was leaning on and giving you a look before disappearing.
“Celibate? Really?” Leon chuckles when he finally gets to talk to you again, holding out a glass of wine for you. He knows first hand that you're just about the opposite of celibate. You’ve been out drinking together multiple times… one thing leads to another.
“Just a white lie, cant hurt,” you shrug with equal amusement. You finally sit down at your carefully scouted table right next to the exit for a quick, uninterrupted escape.
The rest of the night is as boring as you expected, but a couple more glasses of wine gets you through it. The millisecond you receive your awards—some bullshit that you don’t even think needs to be awarded—you and Leon are out of there. You’ve never been more happy to see your hotel room.
Taking your time undressing and relaxing for a while, eventually you turn in for sleep. You’re even wearing your cute silky set, all curled up under the sheets. And clutching them tightly. It’s literally freezing.
“Mmh, Leon…” you mumble, trying desperately to warm yourself up. You look over your shoulder at his bare back turned to you on the other side of the room. When did he take his shirt off? “Are you awake?”
After hearing a quiet grunt, you continue. “Are you cold? I’m freezing.”
“No. ‘S hot as hell,” he grumbles. He waits for you to say something else, and just as he’s about to offer you all his sheets, he hears shuffling from your bed. A moment later, he feels the mattress dip behind him and turns over to see you kneeling on the bed and inviting yourself in.
“Y’don’t mind if we cuddle?” You murmur, slipping under the covers. He swallows as he sees your cute pajamas with the lace and he can already tell this isn’t gonna end with just cuddling. He wordlessly opens his arms up for you, wrapping them around you when you make yourself the little spoon.
He makes sure the sheets are pulled up over your shoulders, rubbing your arms and thighs underneath to try to warm you up. “Still cold?”
Well, not really. You're very hot now, actually, but you nod your head, mumbling yes.
“Want me to warm you up another way?” Leon offers, his voice quiet and rough in that way that sends a shiver down your spine. He rubs his nose against your neck, fingers brushing up under your shirt. How are you supposed to resist?
“Yeah,” you nod against the pillow, squirming slightly as he rubs your side—ticklish little thing. You help shift your legs as he pushes your shorts and panties down.
“There you go. I got you,” he murmurs, sliding his hand back up the inside of your thigh. He kisses the side of your neck as his fingers part your soft curls to get to your pussy. You can feel him smirk against your skin when he feels how wet you are.
“Doesn’t feel very cold to me,” his warm digits spread your slick around, finding your clit with ease and gently circling it with his middle finger. You whine quietly, hands grabbing his forearm that’s around your waist.
You’re snug but not tight around his fingers, easily dipping them in your wet cunt and spreading you open. He shifts, almost draping himself over you to “keep you warm” as he fingers your needy little pussy and gets you nice and ready for him.
“Oh, Leon, right there,” you whisper into the pillow as he makes sure the heel of his hand is rubbing against your clit as he adds a third finger. Your hips lightly rock against his palm, your brows pulled into that soft crease that makes you look fucking adorable.
“Look at you, going around telling people you’re abstinent and yet you’re crawling into my arms,” Leon teases gently, curling his fingers in a slow, languid way that makes your spine straighten and your breath catch.
Just as you’re mumbling about getting close and about to cum, he takes his hand away with a kiss to your shoulder beside the strap of your top. You whine, but he turns you around in his arms with one of those dumb smirks.
“C’mon, girly, you’re on top tonight. Show me how celibate you claim you are, hm?” He taunts, bringing you with him as he rolls into his back, big hands on your soft hips.
“Ugh, how did I let you talk me into this? Didn’t we say we’d stop after last time?” You complain as you settle your hands on his bare chest, your naked hips lazily grinding against the tent in his pajama pants.
“We both know we can’t stop. ‘Sides, I barely talked to you, just tried to warm you up,” he grunts as you start dry humping him, rough hands sliding down your scarred thighs. Rubs his thumbs over the small, raised lines before giving you a light slap on the ass.
“Get going, princess. You’re slow,” he says with fake impatience, staring up at you with that cheesy smirk. You roll your eyes but start to pull down his sweats and boxers anyway.
Your hips shift restlessly with need as you grip his hard cock, giving it a couple light strokes before positioning yourself above him. With your eyes on your movements, you hold him still as you slowly sink down on him with a low, gravelly moan.
“Mmh—fuck, there you go. Hug me so nice,” he sighs with a grunt of your name as he watches you. You sit there on his cock, looking up at him expectantly. This is usually the part where he takes over again and holds you hips while he thrusts up into you.
He simply returns the look. Asshole. What happened to chivalry?
You sigh dramatically, your knees on either side of his waist as you find leverage with your hands behind you on his hard, strong thighs. You don’t usually do this part.
You suck in a breath, lifting yourself up a bit, and then back down with a soft moan. Up and down, up and down, grinding softly against him and keeping eye contact.
But it’s just not the same! Even as you keep up a nice rhythm, your soft moans getting louder and your grip getting tighter, he’s not deep enough. Not hitting the spots he usually gets.
“Leon, c’mon… it’s better when you do it,” you sigh as your hands come back to the front, tracing his abs as you do your damn best riding his cock. He simply stares, amused as his hands rub up and down your thighs.
“…Leon,” you say more firmly this time, hoping you can chastise him into fucking you. It doesn’t work, and you’re getting impatient. You groan dramatically, circling your hips as you lock your eyes on his. “Leon, just fuck me already! Fuck me hard!”
He can’t help but laugh. It gets him going to see you all frustrated, as much as he hates it when you’re anything but happy. Anyway, who’s he to deny you? His hands slides up to your hips, pausing to grope your ass before firmly planting themselves above your thighs.
“Careful what you wish for,” he murmurs before lifting you up and then pulling you back down to meet his thrust. A moan slips from both of you this time as your fingers dig into his bare chest.
“Mmh, fuck yeah Leon,” you groan, leaning back so you can see his face a bit better. Not for long, ‘cause then he pounds into you hard enough to pull out a high-pitched whine and make you throw your head back with pleasure,
“God, fuckin’ love that, don’t you? You can’t even ride me properly. Always need my help,” he grunts as his hips jump to meet yours every single time. He always scolds you in that sickly sweet voice that has your pussy dripping.
“Oh—mph! Right there—yeah, nail my shit, just like that,” you say breathlessly, your head dropping to his chest as one of your hands snakes beneath you to find your clit. A half moan-half growl slips from your lips as your back arches deliciously, teetering right on the edge.
“Jesus, cumming already? Needed it bad, did you?” He murmurs as he trails gentle, contradicting kisses compared to his rough thrusts against your shoulder. “Come on, sweetheart. Cum on my cock.”
It’s hard to hear his words over the squeaking of the bed and your own moans. Almost forgot you were in a hotel—no, you definitely did forget. That’s not what’s crossing your mind right now, though. You’re too busy crossing the finish line. Moaning his name, your fingers still on your clit as i grinds up into you to help you ride it out.
“That’s it, girly. Good girl,” Leon mumbles in your ears, rolling your hips against his pelvis. Once he’s decided you've had enough rest, he gently manhandles you onto your back, quickly pushing your legs up and squishing your knees against your tits as he gets right back to work.
His hands grip the backs of your thighs, his fingertips denting into the plush skin as he pounds into your pussy. His voice leaves him in harsh grunts and satisfied groans, his gaze fixed on his cock coming in and out of your soft cunt.
“Y-Y’know… how much it pissed me off… when that guy was flirting with you?” Leon grunts through gritted teeth, almost like he was trying to keep it back.
“Fuck… yeah?” You question through your sex haze. You guys don’t really talk about other people, or your feelings. Especially not towards each other. So to have him essentially admit that he’s jealous.
“Yeah, princess. Couldn’t believe he thought he had a chance with… you,” his words come out a little slurred—he always talks too much when he gets close. You whine softly, the jealousy woven in his voice making your insides quiver.
His hands grip tighter on your thighs, not enough to bruise but definitely no less than firm. He leans over you a bit, putting a little more of his weight on top of you as he fucks you harder. He barely manages to remember he didn’t use a condom, whining pathetically as he uses all the forces of his self restraint to pull out.
“Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck…” he whispers under his breath, one big hand pushing your thighs together as he strokes himself with the other. You make sure you’ve got a front row seat to see his brows furrowed and your name falling helplessly from his lips.
Leon moans your name, his head falling back as he finally pours his hot, sticky cum all over the backs of your thighs. Rope after rope lands on the soft flesh, making him moan a little more as he squeezes as much as he can out of the tip. You look so pretty like that, he’d take a picture if he knew you wouldn’t kill him.
“Oh god… so perfect, sweetie. Did so well,” he mumbles lazily stroking himself a little longer before letting go. He smears a bit of jizz across your skin before bringing his thumb up to your mouth, letting you lick it off.
It takes a moment to recover with his thighs feeling like they’re on fire, but eventually he pats your hip and gets up. He finds a small towel in the bathroom and runs it under warm water to come clean you up. Once you have everything you need, he puts your panties back on and double checks that you're nice and cozy as his little spoon after a very abstinent night.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
The light wakes you up in the morning, streaming in through the thin curtains. You grumble, waking up and shaking Leon’s shoulder awake soon after. He kisses you and says thanks for last night, before the two of you return to your “normal friendly mission partners” routine.
Just as Leon closes the door behind you, about to head out to go home, you glance over at the sound of the persom in the next room over leaving as well.
The last thing you expected was to lock eyes with the man who tried to hit on you at the event, looking tired as hell, as if he didn’t get any sleep.
“…you didn’t sound very celibate to me.”
a/n: hi hope u enjoyed!! any notes always super duper appreciated 🙌
