I will post scheduled updates here so check this list if you want to know when I will be posting 🫶
My requests are open! Don’t be shy, I love seeing people’s ideas & it can get me out of a writing slump! 🥰
contents :
1. Daryl Dixon TWD
2. Leon Kennedy RE
3. Arthur Morgan RDR2
01 Breaking Glasses // ongoing series
pairing; Daryl x fem!Reader
summary; it’s not everyday you work a boring shift at the bar and an apocalypse breaks out
parts; one 🍏, two 🍏, tbc
02 Get me another beer, bitch // oneshot 🍎🐞
pairing; no apocalypse au!Daryl x f!best friend!reader
summary; Merle gets annoying, Daryl acts on years of pent up emotion, just straight smut with a sprinkle of angst 🤭
word count; 3.2k
03 Get me another beer, bitch // sequel
pairing; no apocalypse au!Daryl x f!best friend!reader
summary; a sequel to the above fic!
word count; 4.3k
04 I touch myself //oneshot 🍎
pairing; trailer park au! virgin!daryl x his hand x f!reader
summary; With the trailer to himself Daryl does some… self exploration at the thought of his best friend while she washes her car.
word count; 1.4k
01 Beep! Beep!// oneshot 🍎
pairing; re9!Leon x wife!Reader
summary; Leon comes home from a boring work day and decides to take his wife out for a drive 🤭
word count; 1.4k
02 Go, be a hero.// ongoing series 🍎🍏🐞
pairing; Leon x ex!f!reader
summary; on going fic with a complicated relationship and now a baby lol
03 Officer down / oneshot 🍎
pairing; Rookie!Leon x College!f!Reader
summary; Inspired by @feralbuni666's fic Call for backup which was so unbelievably peak.
Coming out as soon as I stop being busy 😭
word count; ...
01 By the Lake //oneshot 🍎
pairing: arthur x f!reader
summary; A hot afternoon by the lake turns into something far more dangerous when a stranger with a fishing rod interrupts your reading of Romeo and Juliet.
word count: 6.8k
02 When the Man Comes Around // drabble 🍎🐞
pairing; arthur x f!reader
summary; a piece of prose about Arthur coming but never stating, I was thinking about Eliza when I wrote it.
word count; 600ish
03 Notes from a Brief Engagement // part one 🍏🐞
pairing; arthur x f! reader
summary; Two years after your divorce from Arthur, you're standing alone in the empty house you once shared. You were supposed to be moving on. Instead, on the eve of your wedding, you find yourself calling the one man you swore you'd never need again.
word count; 1.7k
𐙚⋆°｡⋆♡͏ Author Note 𐙚⋆°｡⋆♡͏
This is a work in progress and I’m hoping to add even more characters & fandoms to it as I work on my writing and just try to have fun with it!!
I hope that you enjoy and as always if it’s not for you that’s okay! Just scroll 🥰
pairing; Arthur Morgan x f! reader
summary; Two years after your divorce from Arthur, you're standing alone in the empty house you once shared. You were supposed to be moving on. Instead, on the eve of your wedding, you find yourself calling the one man you swore you'd never need again.
warnings; angst, emotional infidelity, divorce, complicated relationships, mentions of past marital conflict, grief over a past relationship, crying, emotional distress
word count; 1.7k
author note; She's back!!! Hey guys! Sorry for my absence its been a busy holiday for me. But as autumn roles around i am so excited to get back to writing. TBH I've been struggling for inspo recently but I binged @essiewrites' Arthur fics and I just fell in love with him all over again. So thank you to Essie go read their stuff!!
The wedding dress hung from the bedroom door.
You have spent the better part of an hour trying to look at it - it’s beautiful but that's not the issue.
White silk, tiny pearl buttons down the back and a train long enough to make you think you were in a romance novel. Your mother cried when you tried it on, friends squealed in glee. Your fiancé reassured you that you were going to look beautiful.
You believe him, because you love him. Or at least, you’re supposed to.
The house is empty now.
The estate agent said it would be easier to sell it furnished, but you couldn't bear the thought of strangers sleeping in the bed you used to share. So you spent three weeks with your new fiance carrying boxes out, piece by piece, until there was nothing left but dust marks on the walls and pale squares where pictures had once been hung.
Except for this. The mattress. Your mattress, or Arthur’s. You’re not sure anymore.
The wardrobe doors stand open. Empty.
The bedside tables are gone, along with the matching dresser and bed frame. There is a faint rectangle on the wall where your wedding photograph used to hang.
When you stare at it your eyes begin to burn. Then your eye catches the dress again.
You look away, then back again. Still there. Waiting.
Tomorrow, someone will button it up your spine. Someone will smooth the train behind you and your mother will cry again. Your friends will tell you how lovely you look.
Arthur won’t be there.
You tell yourself that's the point. Allowing yourself to sit on the edge of the mattress. It creaks beneath your weight.
And suddenly you remember the sound of it doing the same thing years ago, when Arthur would sit on the edge of the bed to pull off his boots after work. He’d always sigh as he bent over, grumbling about his back, and you’d laugh from beneath the covers.
You remember telling him he was getting old, and he’d looked at you with that crooked little smile.
“‘S long as I’m doin’ it with you darlin’.”
You press your palms against your eyes.
“Stop.”
The room, of course, does not listen.
You lower your hands. The dress is still hanging there. Immaculate and beautiful, but completely wrong. For a moment, you consider taking it down. You don’t. Instead, you walk over to the window.
The front lawn is overgrown now. You’d meant to ask the estate agent about it, but there hadn’t seemed much point. The rosebush Arthur had planted along the fence has grown wild, branches reaching through the trellis and onto the path.
He secretly loved gardening. You’d teased him about it for years. Said a man who could survive a week in the wilderness ought to be able to keep a few roses alive. He huffed and said he only did it for you. You’d told him he was full of shit. He kissed you anyway.
Your throat tightens and you pull yourself away from the window. The last box tripping you as you move.
Kneeling, you pull the tape apart with your fingernail. Inside are the things you couldn’t decided what to do with. Photographs, two chipped mugs wrapped poorly in newspaper, Arthur’s flannel shirt.
You lift it out. The fabric is soft with age, the blue faded to grey at the elbows and a few moth holes dotted around. You remember him wearing it in the winter, sleeves rolled up to the forearms and sitting at the kitchen table with a cup of coffee in his hands.
You press it to your face before you can stop yourself. It doesn’t smell like him anymore. Still, your eyes close. You can almost hear him now.
“C’mere, sweetheart.”
You sit back on your heels, biting back tears.The shirt, crumpling in your fingers.
You smooth your thumb over some of the holes, remembering how you used to complain about him dumping his clothes everywhere.
He’d laugh.
“You own a dresser.”
“Yeah.”
“And a wardrobe.”
“Mmhmm.”
“And yet, your clothes are on the floor.”
He’d shrugged. “Looks better there.”
The memory comes so easily that for a second you almost smile.
Then the hurt returns. You fold the shirt over your knees.
These are things you’d forgotten. Not important things.
The divorce, nights spent sleeping back to back. The awful final months when every conversation was a negotiation and every touch cold.
You remember them all, but you’d forgotten this. The small things.
It had been two years, two years and you’re getting married tomorrow.
You should not be sitting on the floor of your old bedroom with your ex-husband’s shirt pressed against your face. You should not be thinking about the shape of his hands, if he still takes his coffee black. You should not-
The phone vibrates. You nearly drop the shirt. And for one wild second, you think- but no. It’s not him.
It’s your fiance.
Are you still at the house?
You stare at the message. Another appears.
Don’t stay too late, you need your beauty sleep.
A little heart follows it.
Your stomach twists. Then, you type:
I’m leaving soon.
But you don’t send it. Instead, you look back at the shirt, then to the phone. You open your contacts, scroll, scroll, stop.
Arthur
You’d never deleted it. You tell yourself that's because deleting it would have been childish. Two years is a long time to keep someone you’ll never talk to again’s number. Two years is a long time to pretend you don’t still know it by heart.
Your thumb presses the name. You almost gasp as you let yourself do it.
The phone begins to ring. You stare in horror.
One ring.
Two.
Three.
You should really hang up.
Four.
He answers.
“Hello?”
You can’t speak.
“Hello?”
Then, quietly. “Arthur.”
Silence. Filled only by your breaths intertwining.
“Jesus.”
His voice feels different. Older and lower. Or maybe you just haven't heard it in so long that you’ve forgotten.
“What happened?”
“Nothing.”
“Then why’re you callin’ me?”
You look down at the shirt in your lap.
“I don’t know.” You didn't mean to whisper it.
Arthur says nothing.
You can hear the television in the back, a dog barking once.
“Are you alright?”
Your throat closes and the answer escapes you before you can stop it.
“No.”
Arthur exhales slowly. “Where are you?”
You look around your empty bedroom. “I’m home.”
“Your new one?”
You don’t answer, and he understands. Sighing deeply. You can almost see him running his hand over his face.
“You’re at the house.”
You nod, even though he cant see you.
“Why?”
“I had some things to get.”
“Bullshit.”
You look down at the shirt with trembling hands. Arthur is quiet. Then you hear the scrape of something moving, maybe a chair?
“Arthur?”
“Mmhmm?”
“What are you doing?”
“Gettin’ my coat.”
Your eyes fill. “Why?”
“Cause you sound upset.”
“I ain’t.”
“Don’t lie to me.”
The tenderness in his voice is unbearable. You press the heel of your hand against your mouth.
“Please don’t.”
“Don’t what?”
“Come here.”
He goes quiet. You don’t know which one of you is more surprised that you said that. But your heart is pounding. You wait, wide eyed and shaking on the floor.
Finally, his voice comes through the phone.
“Darlin’.”
You close your eyes, muffling your sobs with your hand. The word is soft, almost a whisper. You haven’t heard him say it in over two years. Your chest aches.
“I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
“For calling.”
“You don’t gotta be sorry.”
Despite yourself, a small broken laugh escapes you. Arthur makes a noise that's almost like a laugh too.
“You’re still sweet.” You whisper, as though you didn’t want the walls to hear you.
“You used to like that.” He laughs softly under his breath.
“I did.” The warmth disappears from your voice again, “I still do.”
Neither of you says anything.
You look at the wedding dress.White against the dark bedroom.Waiting.
"I get married tomorrow."
"I know."
"How?"
"John mentioned it."
"Oh."
Another silence.
"Is he good to you?"
The question hurts more than it should. A pang of guilt striking your heart.
“Yeah.” "Good."
You swallow.
"He's very good to me."
Arthur doesn't answer.You wonder if he's nodding. Wonder if he's standing in his kitchen with his coat half on, staring at nothing.
"Then why'd you call me?"
You don't have an answer. Or maybe you do and you just can’t say it. Your fingers tighten around the shirt.
“I found the shirt.”
You can hear his breathing change.
“The blue one?”
“Yeah.”
“Thought you’d thrown that old rag out.”
“I couldn’t”
Silence. Then, so quiet you could miss it-
“Me neither.”
Your eyes close.
“Arthur-”
“I’m coming.”
“No don’t”
“I am.”
“I mean it.”
“I know.”
“Then why?”
His answer comes after a long pause.
“Damn you, woman.”
The line goes quiet and you stare at your phone in your hand.
“Arthur?”
“Yeah darlin’?”
“I’m scared.”
His voice is gentle.
“I know.”
“What if I-” You stop yourself, unable to say it. Because, what if? What if you don’t go tomorrow? What if you still love him? You shake your head. “Nothing.”
Arthur doesn't push. “Stay put.”
The line clicks dead. You keep your phone pressed to your ear. For a while you don't move. The house is silent. Then faintly you hear it, that familiar engine sound turning into the drive. Your heart stops.
The headlights sweep across the bedroom wall, illuminating the pale rectangle where your wedding photograph used to hang.
A car door slams. Footsteps crunch over the gravel outside. The front door opens. You can hear the familiar creak of it, the floorboards groaning beneath his heavy steps.
You stare at the bedroom door. It’s open. You could leave.
You could pick up the dress, walk downstairs and tell him you walk downstairs and tell him you made a mistake. Tell him you shouldn't have called. Tell him you're getting married tomorrow and this is cruel and selfish and unfair.
You could still leave.Instead, you remain sitting on the floor with his old shirt clutched in your hands.
Weirdly excited to go back to my work schedule because I usually write my fics twice a week at my fave cafe in town and I haven’t been able to during the holidays so
Hear me out: Arthur breaking virgin reader's hymen
this is a continuation of part one.
cw. ⌇ mentions of blood. virginity loss. hymen-breaking.
but arthur’s thick cock was too much, stretching your walls with every push he tried. “come on, baby.” he whispered low and into your ear, groaning at the squelching tightness that sucked him in. “you can take it.” he reassured, grabbing at the wall to sink himself even deeper in. “open up for me.” arthur gently guided. until it was all the way in, arthur pushed his big dick further and further. he stilled, seemingly at a loss for what to do in order to make you truly relax. the pulling pinches hurt, sending your cells spiraling into a tingling sensation. arthur’s warmth radiated from him, his skin hot to even be near— he was hovering above you, waiting. arthur was very aware of the situation; you were wet enough from the words he was telling you, but still struggling from the intense intrusion that he was starting to force.
“it hurts.” you squeaked, still somehow speaking softly through the pain. you took a deep breath, squeezing his shaft and nearly draining him then. “too much.” you said as your first tear spilled over. such a sweet girl you were, and so incredibly innocent. you were saying a phrase that could have him cumming inside of you from it alone. what a depraved man he was, swelling in size from hearing just how a fragile, delicate thing like yourself breaks under him. there was a short, bolting feeling that shot from his spine and into his lower stomach, one that was sick and full of devious, future intentions. from then it was decided; he’d make a habit out of teaching you whatever your curious little mind was up to thinking of. “i know, darlin’. i know it does.” arthur empathetically matched your tone, wiping the trailing tear from your temple.
“what’s those stories of yours say .ᐣ ” he looked you down and over, staying still in position, only moving his hand to swipe the sweat strands of hair from your forehead. “hmm .ᐣ ” he asked again, trying out a new technique.
you laughed in a effort’s half, his calming attempt turned into an easy accomplishment. your chest rose in soft breathing, the ache was finally easing up.
“i see you readin’ ‘em.” he says, slowly pulling his hips back, arthur’s eyes locked onto yours. it was vital for him to see. with every movement, he was sure to capture the scene before him; just like one of those cinemas they were running at the theater houses now. arthur was a director and you were his little star.
“you watch’n me, arthur .ᐣ ” you teased him, already knowing the answer— would’ve taken a lot longer to lose it to him if he wasn’t. you felt him throb inside of your walls at the hearing of his name.
“i asked you a question.” he groaned, the familiar feeling of his abdomen tightening returned, ignoring something that he may not want to so outwardly and proudly admit just yet. there was something about the morality of all of this, with you, that made him feel the way he did; like he should rush down to the local law office and turn himself in. but no matter how debatable and predacious he felt in doing it, he still reveled in the selfishness of this one, intimate thing.
“as did i.” you stated, having all the time in the world, too. maybe you weren’t so innocent after all, he thought.
“more than i’d like to admit.” arthur stated, pulling his hips out, making you pay for having him answer first. your yelp was a mixture of both pain and pleasure. a sweet ‘ah’ slipped out from your lips, arthur pinned your body to bed in order to keep you still. “answer me.” he said, still dragging it out— pain pulling at your pussy.
“they—” was all you could get out before you sucked in air from the suffering, arthur stilled his hips. “breathe, angel.” he coached, softly. “they,” a sighing heave, one unsure of how much more you could take. “ah.” you kept trying, sure of what was to come if you didn’t respond fast enough for his favor.
“they what .ᐣ ” arthur asked again, retracting his entire length until only the end if it was still in. a fresh, red hue of blood slightly coated his cock. it must’ve snapped when he was in, “there is it.” he said, talking to himself this time. “hard part’s over, baby.” arthur coddled you in comfort.
embarrassment flushed over you, it was grueling to do this; sharing your private thoughts aloud to him, crippling in humility the same as if he had gotten ahold of your diary and shared it with everyone. the heat in your cheeks was warming, the spotlight showing too much.
maybe you didn’t have as long as you thought.
“sometimes—” you hesitated, knowing that if you wanted this to continue you had to commit. “the man will,” your breathing hitched as he pushed ever so slightly, it was going back in. “he’ll kiss her, on.. in her—“ you were struggling. “in her what .ᐣ ” arthur asked, beckoning you to go on, sliding further in. “tell me.” he said. “in her— privates,” “no.” he stopped you. “in her— quim.” arthur scoffed in a small laugh, halting his hips. “i knew you weren’t so shy, girl.” he almost used it as an insult. “tell me.” he demanded, thrusting once harshly, sinking his dick deeper. “a man ever done that to you .ᐣ ” his voice spoke with a seriousness, like punishment awaits.
through furrowed brows, you answered arthur. “never.” you were honest. “swear it.” arthur said, a second shove engulfed the majority of his length. “i swear it !” you cried out, digging half-moon marks into the skin of his biceps. arthur was every bit of a man, of course taking him wasn’t as easy as you thought it’d be.
“my sweetheart,” arthur possessively praised you. “s’at somethin’ you think you’d want .ᐣ ” he let you think for a moment, pacing a steady rhythm that wasn’t so painful. it was nice, the ridge of his dick stuffing your tight hole with the help of the slickness, your fresh warmth acting as a lubricant— nothing arthur wasn’t already pretty familiar with; a little bit of blood sure wasn’t going to scare him away.
“oh, arthur—” it was working, his plan was unfolding before him. hearing his name being moaned out so gently tensed him again. his patience was wearing thin, his strength wavering in fighting off the urges to put you through the parlour house’s mattress.
“what else you readin’ about .ᐣ ” arthur asked, hooking his hand under the base of your neck, locking his positioning to where only he could truly move. it was going to be a long night of him listening.
Content: smut, oral, heavy petting, some spitting, creamiest of pies, “just the tip”, panties stay on!
Masterlist ❤︎
-
Leon is a creature of habit, if not a slave to his compulsions. Which sounds practical considering the absurdity of his job.
Spending decades wading through nightmares is why operating in violent extremes has become a language he intuitively understands. His obsessive streak seems reasonable if he views it as the price of survival, one that steadily rises in proportion to his scars and the amount of bullshit the government loves to toss him into.
Blowing out money is also a habit he enjoys indulging. If hell is where he’s destined to spend most of his days, he might as well do it in style. If he sinks an obscene fortune into the cars and bikes sitting in his garage, it’s only because he’s cheated death from a creature the size of a goddamn tank—crawling massive thing with repulsive hairy legs. A fucking giant spider.
Also happened with liquor, and an excessive streak of the punishing hours at the gym—build as much solid mass on his arms, he persisted.
So yeah, sensible, given the circumstances.
Rational, even, when his capacity for obsession started to redirect itself the moment a new target is acquired. Barreling straight towards you.
Or your panties, specifically.
Although the entirety of you is a perfectly justifiable thing to lose his mind over. It just so happens that your own little habit for pretty underwear has easily rubbed off on him. From silk to lace to whatever impractical mesh he happily bleeds his bank accounts for. Numbers he quickly discovered ran obscenely high for a few measly inches of thread.
Not that he minds. You like to call him your sugar daddy whenever he catches you hesitating over a ridiculously expensive set, and he’d simply shrug and slide you his card in return. Maybe he is. Kind of. He’s your boyfriend above all else, but if his urge to keep you spoiled rotten qualifies him for the role, then maybe the title isn’t so wrong.
Also doesn’t hurt that every dime spent ultimately works in his favor. Every purchase is perfectly rational when he gets to peel his money's worth right off your skin. Gets to appreciate how a splash of color and fabric can accentuate every curve of your body.
He views red as undeniably sexy. Blue as soft and sweet, and thinks black is a staple that never fails. You always look gorgeous in every color of the rainbow. Divine charm, very easy on the eyes.
But this purple. This damn bruised shade of plum hugging your hips has him crossing the room to haul you onto his desk before he’s even made a conscious decision to move. The stack of reports he’s already been neglecting for a week goes completely shoved aside. Now he’s got you sprawled on your back, looking entirely too satisfied with yourself for finally breaking his focus.
Smart girl, weaponizing his own money to sabotage his productivity.
It doesn’t take much prompting for him to map the familiar lines of your body, dragging his fingers over the delicate lace until his thumb pushes over your sheer-clad breast, pinching a tight nipple.
“This new?”
He smiles when you squirm, watching the way your eyes slant over him. “Mhm. D’you like it?”
His mouth quirks higher. What a redundant question to even entertain, as if being asked whether he prefers a clear line of sight, or if he's happy to find a fully loaded rifle when he’s backed into a corner. It’s basically a fundamental law of nature for him at this point. Lacking appreciation for the way the thin stretch of fabric barely covers your crotch isn't even a possibility.
And that little triangle is downright taunting him, doing absolutely nothing but draw his attention. He finds himself taking a sufficient moment to fully appraise what’s in front of him, letting out a rough breath through his nostrils as he grips the edge of the lace. Pulls it up snugly between your folds.
Fuck if it doesn’t make his cock stir.
You’re awfully wet and swollen and he finds guilt gnawing at him for not tending to you much sooner. An idiot, really, can be too blind when he gets caught up in his own head. Quite the irony when he’s typically so attuned to your moods.
When you’re hungry for affection, you’re quick to cling your arms around his neck while settling on his lap. Yearning for comfort, you bury yourself against his chest to chase the solid thud of his heartbeat.
Desperation runs in your blood when you’re fully aroused.
Like what you’re doing now, he acknowledges. With that impatient heat in your eyes and thighs spread wide apart, openly offering yourself on a silver platter like a five-star meal.
He slacks comfortably back in his chair. Ask and you shall receive, because Leon is inherently a selfless person, hardwired to assist any person in distress with a reflex so deeply ingrained in his bones. You’re writhing so restlessly towards his open mouth that his only instinct is to give in.
The first kiss has you shuddering. The second draws a weak gasp from your throat. For the third, your fingers tangle into his hair.
There’s no gentle fourth kiss that follows because he starts making out with your pussy. Drinks you in to quench his parched taste buds. Devours the taste of intoxicating musk and damp skin, of warm arousal and delicate salt, rich flavors that continuously drool into his mouth as he grinds his tongue flat against your panties.
Can’t even be bothered to peel the thing away. Sure, the fabric scratches right along his jaw, but it does absolutely nothing to stop him from finding your clit. Sweet little thing growing desperately hard with the greedy pull of his lips.
Your nails bite sharply into his scalp. “Fuck, b-baby, I’m gonna—”
He quickly draws back, and your hands immediately clench tight against his roots.
“Babe.”
His amused laughter lingers on your skin as he gently unwinds your grip. Brings your hand down to his lips to press a kiss into your palm. “I know, honey. Promise I'll give it to you.”
You let out a keening whine. “This is not the right time to edge me.”
Leon huffs out another chuckle.
He begs to differ, actually. Not because he genuinely enjoys being a sadist. No, of course not. Ignoring you for the better part of the day already has him feeling awful enough. By way of making amends, the least he can do is be generous—selfless, as he likes to consider himself. Put you out of your goddamn misery.
But a little dragging out couldn’t possibly hurt. He couldn’t touch you all day, couldn’t even look at you properly, so why not take his time now?
Just an extra minute to be greedy, he insists. A few more seconds to admire the state he’s left you in. From the perky jut of your tits behind the see-through mesh to the dark, soaked fabric caught between your dripping pussy. Gooey honey he can still taste on the back of his tongue.
He presses his mouth to your belly, under your heart, over it. Then stands to his full height, tugs the waistband of his sweats down an inch and lets his heavy length spring free.
“Baby, come on.” You track the thick line of him, then mewl when he gives himself a stroke. “Just fuck me already.”
He pushes into you over the flimsy lace. “Like this?”
“Fuck—fuck.” Your hips grind back, partially trying to swallow him right through the damp material. “Take it off.”
“I will."
He does, by pulling the material aside, smoothly sliding back the rich purple that compliments your bare skin. It brings out the natural glow of your damp thighs, highlights the slickness coating your exposed pussy. Swollen folds so thoroughly glazed he adds his own spit, driven by another stubborn compulsion of his to see you absolutely drenched.
You can do it, right? Wet his cock to the point he barely has to put in any effort to slide in?
He starts by giving your sensitive opening a rhythmic taptaptap with his tip. Settles with rubbing the blunt length of it through the wetness he spent so much time admiring. He admires the way you submit to him, too, letting him manhandle your thighs a fraction wider. Takes whatever scraps of friction he decides to give with a soft grace.
A lot of patience, he decides. And the kissing cousin to patience is tenacity.
Your hips give a tiny roll. He smiles—grins, even. It’s hard not to when you’re strung out and teetering so precariously on the edge of the desk, fighting gravity itself to grind against him. He rewards your effort with a slow thrust, finally letting the thick crown sink into your hole.
Slowly, steadily. Watches the way he’s splitting you open, barely, before letting himself savor the sensation of you clenching around the little inch of him buried inside. Incredibly warm, so fucking tight.
His eyes travel along your body, comes to a stop to watch the distortion of your pretty face. Eyes heavy and drooping as if you’re barely conscious, your lips parted in a breathless sigh.
“Sweetheart,” he drawls in a gravelly purr. “You’re trying to swallow me.”
An incoherent noise of pure desperation spills past your lips.
“You want all of it?” Your head jerks in a nod, he does the same. “Okay, okay. You'll get it, honey, don’t worry.”
Later, he adds to himself. Later, when you’re drenching his thighs in so much slick. He settles with rutting against your tightest ring of muscle, instead, relishing the sloppy sound that blends with your high-pitched whines and the destructive crinkle of whatever document you’re currently crushing in your fist.
“I—shit," you whimper. “I’m sorry.”
He shakes his head, tosses a damp piece of hair across his brow. “Ruin everything for all I care.”
You huff out a small, thin laugh. “But you’ve worked so hard on it.”
“I can work hard on it again.”
Your smile is sweet and soft as your hands blindly paw into the empty air, searching for some leverage that doesn’t end in shredding the rest of his papers. He groans when they find purchase on your chest. Moans even louder when you unceremoniously yank the cups down, holding greedy handfuls in your palms.
“That’s it, play with ‘em,” he rasps. “Show me.”
You do, and it takes a huge amount of effort for him not to blow his load right there and then. He could. He would. Yeah, he definitely would. It’s become an ingrained habit for him to empty himself while being buried deep inside you. Stopped buying condoms the first time you guided him bare.
He’s never looked back since then. Might be a kink of his, come to think of it. The sensation of becoming entirely one with you, of leaving a warm part of his very soul that it feels like the ultimate culmination of a hundred different overlapping obsessions. Your immaculate taste in underwear, the very intoxicating taste of you.
Your voice. The deliberate way you pronounce his name. Your restless, wandering hands now gripping your chest, hard nipples peaking between keen fingers.
The sound your body is making. Squelching and sloshing and spilling and dripping as you openly drown in your own pleasure.
You’re wet enough, he decides. Although it doesn’t stop him from gathering a thick pool of saliva behind his teeth again. Lets the string of drool land directly onto your clit before his thumb lands right on top of it. Swirls the little nub with eager eyes as he visibly drinks in another spill of arousal leaking right through the desperate clench of your cunt.
Clench, unclench. Suck, squeeze, hold. You’re practically making a mess on his desk, squirming erratically against the wood in your own puddle the second he quickens the pressure of his thumb.
He wonders if you can cum with just the tip of his cock and the focused burn on your clit.
You show him that you can. Easily. With a tremor that forcefully smears your slickness further across the polished mahogany while your back bows sharply and your eyes roll back in absolute delirium. Watching you swim in a mindless haze is enough to shatter whatever control he had left.
He cums easily, too. Does so by dropping his head with a wildly heaving chest as he quickly strokes the remaining inches of his cock. Pleasure melts right into his bones, as does his cum, spilling hot and thick inside you before letting it overflow across your stretched folds, along the quivering juncture of your legs.
He makes sure it seeps into the edge of your panties. White on purple. Like a painter aggressively smearing his living canvas by swirling your arousal and his cum and his trail of hot saliva into one glob of a creamy mess.
He spits again. Because he can't help himself.
And you laugh. Weak and fond and amused while you lean back on your elbows to watch him obsess over his art.
“You’re such a perv, you know that?”
He does, there’s no point in denying it. But admittedly, he's your perv. And you are his, considering you’re already trying to swallow him whole the moment he tries to nudge back in. Sure, his obsessive streak can be a little overwhelming for polite society, a definite negative for most people to handle. But it’s a good thing two distinct negatives have always made a positive.
Reasonable, then, when it's both of you in the equation.
So he throws you a smirk in return, drags you flush against his hips, and finally fucks you deep.
I wish it was easier to be a real writer I mean, all respect to fanfic and it’s amazing practice for me but man, trying to get into publishing is so hard. I mean do you go local or do you give up your morals and go with Amazon just because it’s easier. I wish there was an easier solution but it feels like all the doors are shut
𐔌 cw: age gap but it's not specified, innocent reader with low honor arthur, mild corruption thoughts, he eats his own cum out your hole, breeding and very mild pregnancy .ᐟ
the gang knew arthur was hiding something, something they had no right to see, touch, or sniff across the western plains. it wasn't a grand mansion ripe for a robbery or a score that would net them a pretty dollar. instead, it was a secret that kept him absent for long hours and busy days, forcing him to ride out at dawn before the fires were even stoked and return long after the kettles went cold.
by then, everyone was too occupied to interrogate, and the air in the camp no longer carried the warm scent of stew and beer. he would arrive humming softly under his breath, smelling like clean linen, homemade roast, and floral perfumes. the sinews of his shoulders no longer bunched in tension beneath pristine, clean blouse, but melted away.
he had a pretty thing out there who cared for him, it was impossible to miss. they could see it written all over his weathered face, in the defensive scowl he slipped the second anyone teased if he’d found himself a fancy lady.
the house lay tucked in a valley where flowers bloomed in full season and grass grew long and unconstrained, a sanctuary where no horses passed with thundering hooves that dragged rattling wagons, and no loud voices shattered the peace. travelers passed the other way, drawn toward a weathered wooden sign welcoming them to strawberry, a town nestled between towering pines and lush, emerald meadows.
yet it stood apart where timber walls looked in silence, adorned with lacy curtains and a fence rails mended by arthur’s own gritty hands, splashed with fresh white paint. kitchen hot with working stove, slow roasting the choice cuts of an elk he’d brought down on his ride back, wild sage and lavender bundled to hang from the rafters, the crisp scent filling every corner.
gathering into a heavy, fragrant trail that seeped through the propped open window panes and drifting out to timber line, teasing the hungry bellies of wolves and foxes that lurked behind. it was a place he could find blindly, as no matter how many hundreds of miles of trail lay between you, his horse would always find the way back.
he comes to the porch where you stood waiting, framed by the flower pots lining the wooden windowsill, the dress hemline caressed by the summer breeze in the very same way it stirred the petals. he dismounted his horse, offering an ever so gentle pat to its mane. his guns rattled softly within their leather holsters with the heavy, rolling sway to his broad hips, spurs catching slightly on the grass below.
you threw your arms around his strong neck the moment he came within reach, finding his sun bronzed skin still warm and rich with the scent of woodsmoke. chestnut brown beard prickling your plump lips as you pressed a kiss to his mole dotted cheek. that high pitched squeak escaping you when his large palms found their familiar place upon your tempting ass, fingers kneading into the pert globe with a tight, shameless grip.
he flashed a dopey, affectionate grin that depeened his crows feet when you chastised him with a flustered “arthur!” yet made no attempt to escape his embrace, choosing instead to lean deeper into the solid weight of his brawny chest.
arthur’s cerulean eyes snagged to how your hips shimmied as you arranged the dinner, eyelids drooping hooded. his tongue slipped lazily across his upper teeth, catching for a brief moment against a sharp canine before he sucked it back in, gaze utterly devouring you. plated on painted porcelain beside his broad arm resting across the tablecloth was a rich spread, mashed potatoes and juicy meat that had soaked in fresh herbs and vegetables.
he rolled his tattered cuffs up past ropey forearms to burly biceps, allowing you to trace the sight of veiny, hair dappled skin before you moved to pour him a glass of lemonade, fussing over him to ensure he was well fed.
within moments, his ruddy cheeks were stuffed with your cooking, weathered fingers wound tightly around the fork as he mixed the food on his plate. tawny eyelashes fanning low over chiseled cheekbones when his eyes fluttered in pure delight, chewing mouth letting out nothing more than a muffled, appreciative hum that vibrated through his chest as contented rumble.
younger than him by an age that would raise far more than mere questions, one had to wonder, what business did a man like him have beside a doll like you? why a hardened outlaw was sharing a bed with a girl who looked like porcelain? he had seen blood, he had spilled blood, he was a man built from violence, his hands had broken jaws and triggered the guns that populated shallow graves.
you, on the other hand, were born to wear whispering silk and win over rooms with nothing but a glance. you were meant to never know the face that violence wears, huddled beneath his arm in bed, the eiderdown comforter slipping down your tangled, naked bodies, tracing a gentle fingertip across the bullet scar on his shoulder and whispering “why would they do that to you?”
arthur would only close his eyes with shaking head, a lopsided, tired smile breaking his rugged features and curling at lips corner with a tut “beh'cuz the world’s full of bad men, sweetheart” his scarred knuckles descending over your curved hipbone with a slow, stroking caress, chapped lips leaving a featherlight touch against your hairline.
there were no concealing the evidence of his devotion upon your skin, bruises that lingered from the ankle bone and moved an upward patch, mottled hickeys and teeth bites that were sharp enough to make you keen in the way that got him even more hard. they're at your breasts, around sore nipples that get peaky when the dress fabric catches on them, provoking a tiny hiss.
your supple inner thighs, tender skin rendered to aching at even littlest movement, at your plump butt, where he laved a teasing tongue before sinking his fangs in and gnaw. but those are places where only you and him can see, while some are also a warning to other people, graced upon your form.
delicate throat looking mauled but keeping people at distance from trying anything funny, from approaching what's arthur's when he's not close to guard it with ferocity.
even though you squirm in fluster when women and men alike raise their eyebrows at those, you always trace them with slow fingertips when getting ready for bed, sitting by the mirror and shuddering once remembering his every greedy rasp. heart racing with anticipation for his inevitable return, knowing you'll arch for more.
you loved him beyond measure, giving him free rein over your body and space. welcoming him just as he was, even when he arrived with heavy boots caked in thick dirt that ruined your welcome rug, or with fresh blood splattered across the already burgundy collar of his new blouse. carrying the raw, heavy scent of sweat and the unforgiving open road upon his skin, yet it brought you no disgust.
instead, you melted into his every touch, allowing his rough, calloused thumb to press firmly into the hinge of your jaw, tilting your head back to accept the sloppy kisses he teases against your mouth seam. gentle palms flattened to the hard, broad planes that are his back, rippling as you clung to him, mouth close to ruddy ear, moaning arthur's name in a way that made gooseflesh erupt all over his corded forearms.
spine curved into a deliberate, pretty arch, rocking back and impaling yourself further on his gorged cock, as he pulled back until nearly losing the gushing heat around him, then thrusting in again, hips slamming to jolt you, breasts bouncing with the movement.
cunt pulsing around stretching intrusion, swallowing him from root to swollen tip, spongy walls clenching hot and tight, mewling a cry when his hips grounded in deep, slow circles that had your pussy fluttering and tightening, slick sopping.
teeth closing around your skin, tongue running soothing line across the pinched edge as you choked, the tension gathering at the base of your spine and making it rigid, hips rolling in slow, grinding arcs that lose their rhythm to uncontrollable. you tighten your legs around his broad hips, fingers trembling across his scarred shoulderblades and nails digging into the sweat salted skin.
every sound that get's punched out your crumpling lungs by merciless pounds goes straight to his cock, throbbing within your clamping gummy walls. “gonna give ya a babe that looks lak ya, make ya pregnant, would have to stay then” arthur panted against your forehead, ample chest vibrating through with a husky growl, and you whined a fractured “yes, yes arthur, please!”
whole body arching as he railed into your wet, eager heat, cunt snug and walls clamped with needy, wavering pulls that milked his girth and demanded it's release. roughened thumb chafing clumsy circles at your puffy clit, rolling and pinching the nub until you're creaming the flowery linens and coarse tuft at his groin.
he was right there, spilling hot ropes against the rounded lump of your cervix, seed spreading and dribbling in frothed mess between your quaking legs. his pudgy abdomen flexing, warm palms cupping your calves, holding them with immense care. and when you reached out to brush away a sweat drop that beads from his brow, he leaned into the touch, nuzzling your palm with a dazzling smile and a sweet, lingering kiss.
you wriggle when arthur tries to clean you up, face tucked to dewy cunt, licking a fat stripe from your cum daubed hole right to the ass, your fingers scrabbling against his scalp, twisted in umber brown tresses. trying to tug him away, eyes tear glazed with either fluster or utter mortification, cheeks burning hotter than they ever would from the sunburn.
yet he persisted, burly arms bracketing, tongue sweeping deep and tasting his own seed until a violent tremor seized your thighs, clamping together tightly as the sudden rush of your sweet release flooded his mouth with slick. he departed just as the sun dipped into its deep orange hue, casting a golden glow across the meadow and cooling the breeze that caressed your bare legs.
you stood at the threshold, draped only in his light brown tartan shirt, its hem hanging long enough to shadow your thighs, though the sight remained undeniably seductive. his goodbye kisses were agonizingly drawn out, lips lingering over every contour of your face, dragging past the slope of your nose to the curve of your jaw, breath faint with the honey tea you had brewed for him before his departure.
holding his worn hat firmly atop his head so it wouldn't be stolen by the wind, which seemed to howl a desperate plea for him to stay. hand drawing from your waist with heavy reluctance, finally falling limp to his side, fingertips twitching with the tales of your warmth, but he had to go.
it would not be for long, this time. when he returned, carrying a few groceries he knew you would need and a bouquet disheveled beneath his arm, you opened the door with a caution that had never been there before. lake filling the meadow with it's rush, your eyes fluttered round with pure joy as you chirped his name, a sound he had grown so deeply accustomed to.
standing with your palm carefully pressed, as if cupping something precious, right against the curve of your lower belly, which was far more rounded than before. it was not weight, nor was it the result of eating well, it was the life of a child, his child, growing right beneath your heart. you looked up at him with simmering nerves, lips bitten raw, tremors already wormed deep.
“ain't 'unna leave ya now, honey, aah swear” arthur rasped, a sudden lump in his throat scratching sharper than any serrated blade. abandoning everything he had brought, not caring where it lands, he pulled you close to cradle your dainty figure against his chest. broad, heavy palm pressed over yours, squeezing your hand against the small swell of the belly, making you feel safer than you ever had, your forever man.
[jealous!Leon Kennedy x mom!reader x Chris Redfield]
Warnings: nsfw, porn with very little plot, jealous!Leon, threesome, lactation kink, ass play, anal, dp uh what if two boys kissed at the Eiffel tower
Summary: You're out dress shopping with Leon while running into your ex Chris Redfield.
a/n: Y'all wanted a jealous Leon, so jealous Leon you shall get. I wrote this with RE4 Leon in mind, but could be any version of Leon honestly. Kinda based on my Cooperative Parenting series but can be read on its own. Everyone who was here for Coparent, welcome back, you're in for a treat. The way I originally wanted to write this as a 200 follower celebration, now we're at over 1k. Oh well! Thank you all so much for your incredible support! I love hearing your thoughts and theories in the comments and it's been a huge motivator for me to flex my creative muscles a lot more. Here's to the next 1000, hehe. <3 It all kinda started with this request.
word count: 5.5k (three people, also means at least 1/3 more words)
Masterlist
You huffed and puffed in the dressing room, but no matter how hard you tried, you just couldn’t reach the zipper on your back.
“Leon,” you hissed through the curtain.
“Mh?” He came up behind you.
You turned your back to him, brushing your hair out of the way. “Can you zip me up?”
“Sure.” His fingers grazed your skin ever so slightly when he reached for the zipper and you shuddered, being especially sensitive to his touch at this point in your cycle. Leon chuckled and pressed a quick kiss to the back of your neck, before pulling the zipper up.
You drew in a sharp breath. The dress was tight. Tighter than you expected. Especially in the chest area.
“Holy shit,” Leon breathed, staring at your tits in the mirror, all lifted and pressed together by the fabric.
“Oh man,” you whined. “I can’t wear that.”
“You can’t?” Leon rasped, having a hard time tearing his eyes away from your cleavage.
“No,” you hissed and took a deep breath in, nearly tearing the fabric in the front. Leon whined softly.
“Why can’t you?”
“I can’t even breathe in this.”
“Do you—” he cleared his throat, shifting awkwardly, “Do you want me to check if they have it in a bigger size?”
You nodded. “That would be great, thank you baby.”
Leon didn’t move. When you looked at him over your shoulder, he had his hand down his pants, adjusting himself, checking his crotch in the mirror. “I need a minute.”
You chuckled. “That’s exactly why I can’t wear this in public. Men are pigs.”
“Well, I’m allowed. I’m your fiancé,” he said, voice dripping with pride about the promotion from mere boyfriend status.
You cupped his cheek and pressed a tender kiss to his lips. “Yes, you are but no one else is.”
“I agree,” he murmured, capturing your lower lip with his teeth. “But let me just say, you look so hot in this.”
“If you get me the bigger size, we can move on to lingerie shopping, what do you think?” you whispered.
He let out a low breathy moan at the proposition. “Well, now I’m gonna need two minutes.”
You chuckled, gripping the front of his shirt and pulled him in for one last teasing kiss. “I think you can deal with it, big boy.”
Leon went to get the bigger size and you stepped out of the dressing room to look at yourself in better lighting. You did look great in this. The fabric hugged your curves in just the right way, really amplifying your … assets. But you weren’t really looking for a skimpy party dress, you were looking for one you could wear to your elderly colleagues birthday party, which was a family friendly event. All of Rhonda’s grandkids would be there.
“Well, if that isn’t my favourite ex-girlfriend.” A familiar voice sounded behind you and you turned around. Your face lit up.
“Chris?” You squealed with joy and let him pull you into a bear hug. Your arms barely reached around his shoulders. “What the hell are you doing here?”
“Shopping,” he shrugged.
“No, in town I mean. You moved to the other side of the country.”
“I uh,” he murmured, “I missed Claire too much.”
You nodded, knowing full well he was lying. You knew him like the back of your hand. Or you used to at least. But Chris was the kind of guy that didn’t change much. Back when Lottie had been small, he had been like a rock in your life, steadfast, constant. For you to hold on to when life got tough.
He looked you up and down and you didn’t miss the flick of his eyes to your chest area. “You look great. How the hell have you been?”
“Oh, you know. Same old, same old. Still working at the diner.”
“Ah, come on. A girl like you doesn’t have a story? I seriously doubt that.”
“It’s kind of a long one,” you said, smiling, trying to figure out where the hell you would even start.
You could start with how you got back with Leon and that you had another baby with him. Unplanned, just like the first one, because both of you both left your brains at the door as soon as Leon thrust into you. You could also start with Leon having missed his son’s birth because of a mission that nearly killed him. Or with Ada making sure he got back to you in one piece. With Leon proposing to you and both of you being neck deep in your wedding preparations, with a freshly baked toddler and a nine year old in tow. It was utter chaos.
“Tell you what, I’m doing a housewarming this weekend. Please come, I’d love to hear you tell me everything over a couple of drinks.” His eyes glinted with joyful anticipation.
“Yeah, I’d love to,” you said, gleefully.
Leon stepped beside you, coat hanger with dress in hand. “You’d love to what?”
You opened your mouth, staring at him. You honestly almost forgot that he was with you for a second. Your own fiancé. This was bad.
“Oh, uh,” you scrambled for words. “Chris, Leon, Leon, this is Chris.” You motioned between the two men awkwardly.
“I know him, he’s Claire’s brother,” Leon said, brows drawn together at the blush appearing in your cheeks. Shit.
“Right, uh,” you mumbled, trying to remember if you had ever told him about Chris. You must have, right? Back in the day? You had told him about your new boyfriend. Of course.
Leon and you hated each other back then. Well, you hated him. You weren’t sure if he ever hated you or it was more him hating himself for messing things up. You barely spoke outside of planning your lives around coparenting Lottie. But you surely mentioned Chris, right?
Chris’ eyes caught on Leon’s hand that had come to rest demonstratively on the small of your back.
“I’m throwing a house warming,” Chris said. “I just invited her for old time’s sake. You should come too.”
“If we can get a babysitter, right?” Leon looked at you, waiting for a response.
“I can ask Rhonda?” you suggested. “The kids will be over the moon to have a sleepover with her, they love her.”
“Kids?” Chris asked, emphasizing the s. “As in more than one?”
You nodded. “Lottie’s a big sister now.” You were dying inside, your face burning hotter than the sun.
Chris wrinkled his forehead in thought and nodded. “That’s great, I’m really happy for you. You were always a great mom.”
You smiled at the compliment. “Thank you,” you whispered.
“Am I interrupting something?” Leon leaned in, flicking his gaze between you and your ex-boyfriend.
“Oh no,” you and Chris both said at the same time, falling silent immediately at your synchronicity.
Chris cleared his throat. “The invitation still stands. It would be great if you both could come.” He nodded at Leon. “Good to see you, Leon.”
“Likewise,” Leon said, watching the taller man intently as he walked off.
You extended a hand for the coat hanger in his hands but he pulled it out of reach.
“Back when Lottie was in pre-k,” he said when Chris was out of earshot, not missing a beat. “You had this boyfriend, right?”
You nodded. “Yeah. Chris.” You busied yourself with picking an invisible speck of lint off your dress and stepped closer to the mirror.
“Chris as in Chris Redfield?” Leon went on, meeting your gaze.
“Yeah,” you said again, adjusting the way the dress fit at your waist, fumbling with the fabric.
He blinked. “When were you going to tell me?”
“Did I have to?” you asked, a little sharper than you intended.
“I feel like that’s an important thing to note, yes?” Leon shot back. “Why did you guys break up?”
“He moved away and we didn’t want to do long distance,” you said, moving on to the hemline of your dress, the most interesting thing you had ever seen in your entire life.
“But if he hadn’t you’d still be together?”
“Probably.” Leon froze next to you. “I mean, I don’t know. Maybe? Maybe not? I really don’t know,” you rambled. “Is that important?”
“No,” Leon said, a little too quickly and very calmly.
“Did you get the bigger size?” you asked.
He hid the coat hanger behind his back, still clearly visible to you. “They didn’t have it. I think you should get this one.”
Rhonda didn’t need to be asked twice. She was practically at your house with chicken tenders and sugary snacks before you even hung up the phone. Leon desperately tried to remind her that your kids never had any snacks after dinner and to stick to their bedtime routines but you softly grabbed his arm, shaking your head. It was no use.
Rhonda would do whatever Rhonda wanted. And what she wanted was to absolutely spoil both Lottie and Ollie rotten. It was better if you didn’t think about it too much and just enjoyed your night. Besides, a couple of snacks out of the ordinary wouldn’t do any harm in the grand scheme of things. You could go back to your normal routine when you were back and in charge.
“Stop worrying about the kids,” you whispered, pressing a kiss to Leon’s lips when you were standing in Chris Redfield’s new house. “They’re in good hands. Rhonda has been babysitting for me since forever.”
“Yeah for you, but not for me,” Leon said, surrendering to the kiss but not really being present. It was like kissing a dead fish.
“You know what?” You snatched his glass from his hands. “I’ll get you another drink.”
You didn’t get very far. An arm wrapped around your waist pulled you against Leon’s chest.
“Absolutely not, you’re not going anywhere without me. Not in that dress,” he rasped, his lips ghosting over the shell of your ear.
You bit your lip, chuckling softly. “I told you to get me the bigger size.”
“And I told you they didn’t have it.” Leon’s hand moved down to your hips, pushing your ass against his crotch as his lips trailed kisses down your neck.
“Is this why you’ve been all over me the whole night?” You asked, turning your head toward him, brushing your nose over his. “Because you’re jealous?”
“I’m not jealous,” he said. “I know I’m the best.”
“Then why do you keep staring at Chris?” You followed Leon’s gaze to the other end of the room, landing on a particular ex-boyfriend of yours who was watching the both of you.
“Because I want him to know that too,” Leon whispered, his hand sprawled wide across your ribcage, his thumb brushing over the underside of your boob. “I want him to know that I’m the one who gets to bury himself deep inside you every night. That I’m the one who gets to listen to all those sweet sounds you make when you’re cumming on my cock, not his. Mine.”
Your lips parted ever so slightly, breath hitching in your throat when you felt him through his jeans, hard and rubbing up against your ass.
“Leon, there’s people around,” you whispered, breathlessly. Chris was still staring at you, even though he was in conversation with someone else.
“Yeah,” Leon scoffed. “And I would make every single one of them watch, so they all know you’re mine.”
A soft gasp escaped you and you squeezed your eyes shut. What had gotten into him? Since when was your fiancé so … feral?
Your eyes fluttered open and you met Chris’ gaze. It had been years since he last looked at you like that and it sent a jolt of desire right between your legs. He looked like he wanted to bend you over the nearest surface and prove Leon wrong.
“Look at him,” Leon snarled. “He’s so desperate to have you again.” A low chuckle sent a vibration through his chest and the hand that had previously rested on your hip, dipped under the hem of your skirt. “I can’t blame him. You look so delicious in this dress, my god.”
His fingertips brushed over the thin cotton of your panties and you felt light headed. Chris staring at you with so much longing in his gaze and Leon’s hard cock pressing into you from behind was too much to bear.
“Leon stop,” you breathed, knowing your panties were already soaked.
He clicked his tongue. “I’d say he’d like to watch. What do you think?”
“How the fuck would you know what I want, Kennedy?” Chris’ voice sent a shiver down your spine as he appeared next to you, close enough to touch.
A shit-eating grin spread over Leon’s face. “Lucky guess. Besides, it wasn’t that hard. You're a bit of an open book.”
“Guys, stop,” you hissed, but it came out more like a moan as your hands rested on both of their chests, pushing them apart, albeit half-heartedly.
“Oh, you’re loving this,” they both snapped at the same time, looking at you.
You bit back a moan, shaking your head in disbelief. You were absolutely loving this. The thought of it alone, that you could make both Leon and Chris lose their composure like that made you clench around nothing and helplessly rub your thighs together, desperate for the tiniest bit of friction.
“You ever come home to her with a cracked rib?” Leon asked.
“And received the sloppiest blowjob known to man? Oh yeah.” Christ chuckled and your ears turned a deep shade of pink.
You grabbed both of them by the hand and led them away from the other party guests. You felt like you were dragging two dobermans through the crowd. Or two bulls, leading 380 pounds of pure muscle by their dicks.
You closed the door behind you. This was a bedroom. Your heart started beating faster.
Leon didn’t miss a beat. His hand slipped into the front of your dress, squeezing the soft flesh of your breast and his mouth latched on to your neck. You whimpered and Chris chuckled, hands carefully coming to rest on your hips, as his lips brushed the shell of your ear.
“I missed you,” he whispered and you shuddered.
“What’s happening?” Your voice was barely more than a faint squeak as you let your head fall back, leaning into both of their touches.
“Nothing you don’t want, baby,” Leon groaned, rubbing his hard-on against your thigh. “You know that. Just say it and we’ll stop.”
Chris nodded, pulling the zipper on the back of your dress down agonisingly slowly.
You gasped and they both stilled. “Lock the door,” you whispered, pulling Leon in for a searing kiss.
Chris did as you had asked while you unbuckled Leon’s belt. Leon smiled into the kiss and pulled your dress over your head.
Chris drew in a sharp breath. “Oh fuck, you look so much hotter now.”
Leon smiled into the kiss and turned you around in his grasp so you were facing Chris while still pressed against Leon’s chest. Your fiancé's hand slipped into your panties, expertly finding your clit.
You writhed under his touch, an arm coming up to hold on to Leon’s neck for stability.
“Oh fuck, Leon,” you moaned, as he played with your most sensitive spot, spreading your slickness all over.
“Look at him, baby. Look at Chris,” he whispered in your ear and you did as you were told.
Chris was staring at where Leon’s fingers were buried between your thighs and he reached into his own pants, pulling out his hard cock, all veiny and thick like you remembered and started touching himself.
Chris had never been one to beat around the bush. One of your favourite things about him at the time. Maybe even still.
Leon pushed a finger into you and a soft moan fell from your lips. He shouldn’t be the only one who wasn’t getting off, you thought and pushed his pants down to free his cock too and started stroking him.
This was surreal. Two dicks, throbbing and hard for you and within your reach. You must have been dreaming.
Chris bent down, pushed the cup of your bra to the side and started sucking on one of your nipples. “They're so much bigger than I remember,” he murmured and you whined at how sensitive they were.
“I’m still breastfeeding,” you whispered and Chris’ head shot up.
Leon chuckled against your neck and nodded. “Oh yeah and it’s the best thing ever.”
Chris continued to suck on your breast, teasing your hard nipple with his tongue, while Leon was pumping his fingers in and out of you.
Your brows knitted together and you buried your other hand in Chris’ hair, the pleasure nearly being too much to handle and you hadn’t even really started yet.
Chris nudged your legs apart so his shoulders would fit and moved lower, pulling your panties down with him.
You head fell back against Leon’s shoulder. His cock twitched in your hand and a guttural sound of pleasure escaped him. “Oh fuck, baby, let us hear you,” he murmured and rid you of your bra entirely, palming your tits.
Chris licked up your folds in a broad stroke and pushed his tongue into you. Not one to beat around the bush. Still.
You arched your back against Leon and moaned loudly. “Yes, just like that,” Leon praised meeting the movements of your hand with a thrust of his hips.
How was this happening? Chris eating you out while you were holding on to Leon for dear life and touching him? Leon was panting in your ear, capturing your earlobe between his lips, rolling your nipple between his fingertips and you squealed softly.
“Leon,” you mewled. “Play with my ass, I want to be able to take you both.”
Chris moaned against your wet flesh and Leon pressed his forehead to yours, as if they were both overwhelmed with how much you wanted this.
Leon reached down and gently caressed your ass, while Chris was licking you in the front and you felt your muscles relaxing without any of them even having to do much. The combination of both sensations was enough to make you incredibly wet and ready.
“Oh my god,” Leon breathed and halted your hand around his cock. “Fuck,” he cursed, biting down on your neck, sucking hard. You leaned into his touch, chuckling softly. There was another man between your legs, but Leon still couldn’t resist the primal urge to mark you as his.
Your chuckle was cut off by a loud moan when Chris sucked on your clit and buried his fingers deep inside you. “Oh my god, Chris.”
“I missed that,” Chris said, looking up at you from between your legs. “The way you taste, the way you sound.”
“No, don’t stop,” you whined and Leon pushed Chris’ head back down. You stared at your fiancé, eyes all glazed over with lust and you felt like marrying him right then and there.
Your knees buckled and Leon held you in place so Chris could bring you closer and closer to the edge.
Just to stop.
You whimpered, clawing at his shoulders as he came back up and captured your lips in a passionate kiss, you tasting yourself on his tongue. This being the first time you kissed Chris again after years only heightened the sensation. He tasted so good. Even without his mouth being covered in your arousal.
You pressed your hand against his broad chest, fingers sprawling out over his beefy pectorals. “I want to feel you,” you panted and turned your head over to Leon. “And taste you.”
Your fiancé bit back a grin and nudged your nose with his. “Whatever you want, baby.”
Chris carried you over to the king sized bed and you got on all fours, arching your back. Neither of them needed to be asked twice. Chris positioned himself behind you and Leon rested one knee on the mattress, pushing his hips forward so you could close your lips around his tip like a lollipop, looking up at him. He groaned and his fingers threaded through your hair, giving it a gentle tug at the back of your head. You moaned around his cock and your eyes fluttered shut, as you felt Chris prodding at your entrance. He slicked himself with your juices, breathing heavily already.
“Wait,” he panted, head snapping up to face Leon and a gentle hand stabilising you on your hip. “What are we doing about birth control and—?”
You let go of Leon’s cock with a lewd popping sound. “I have an IUD.”
“And we’re not doing this on the regular,” Leon added, a smirk tugging at his lips. “You’re a very special boy, Redfield.”
You pinched his thigh and he hissed. “Be nice,” you said.
Chris chuckled. “If I were in his position, I would be jealous too,” he said and pushed into you. You were dragged forward a little, holding on to Leon’s thighs for stability. You had forgotten how much broader the head of Chris’ cock was than Leon’s.
“Oh,” you cried out softly, getting used to his size again. He pulled out and pushed back in gently, a little more each time. Leon watched him, watched how you writhed and squirmed under Chris’ touch, his cock twitching.
“Looks like you’re the one who likes to watch, Leon,” Chris panted, thrusting up into you all the way in one languid stroke, coaxing a high-pitched moan from you. “Oh fuck, Chris.”
“I do,” Leon admitted and grasped your chin, tilting your head up to him. “I fucking love it.”
You closed your lips around his cock, sloppily licking at the tip, swirling your tongue, letting him slip out again to catch your breath and moan loudly as you watched Chris over your shoulder, rutting into you with deep strokes.
“Mh,” you groaned, Leon twitching in your mouth and you sank down on him further, as Chris pushed into you from behind. Leon let out a guttural groan, hands tangled in your hair, holding you in place.
“Oh my god, oh fuck, oh that feels so good.” A string of curses fell from his lips and he pulled you off him, saliva coating his cock and drooling out of your mouth.
“Do that again,” he panted, gaze flicking between you and Chris. Chris chuckled, gripping your hips tighter, a low groan falling from his lips.
You opened up for Leon and he pushed into you, his mouth falling open, his cheeks tinted in a deeply pink hue.
“I’m so close, baby,” he panted, gripping his own cock, guiding it in and out of your mouth, his other hand still resting on the back of your head.
You moaned around him, the vibration of it making him let out a strangled moan. “Oh fuck, I want to ah—”
You knew exactly what he wanted. It was his favourite thing lately.
Chris thrust into you hard, again pushing you forward on the mattress and forcing you to take Leon deeper.
Leon whimpered in surprise, his cock twitching in your mouth, his hips snapping forward and you tasted a salty spurt of cum on your tongue. You pulled your mouth off him, making him whine at the loss. Arching your back even more, you opened your chest, one hand coming to squeeze your tits together. A smile tugged at Leon’s lips, as he threw his head back and came all over your chest and collarbone, painting you like his own personal Mona Lisa.
“Oh fuck, oh god,” he groaned, squeezing his eyes shut, breathing heavily. “Lean back,” he panted, reaching out, but not for you. He pushed Chris down to lay on the mattress, pulling you with him so you were sat facing Leon, both legs on either side of Chris' hips. You lifted yourself up, sinking down on Chris’ cock and Leon pushed your knees apart as wide as they would go, also lowering himself and latching on to your clit.
“Oh, fuck,” you groaned, barely able to get any words out, digging your nails into Chris’ thighs as you continued to ride him, Leon eating you out at the same time. You clenched down on Chris’ cock and he let out a guttural grunt, grabbing a handful of your ass.
Your head fell back and you stared at the ceiling. This was incredible. Every nerve ending was set on fire by the two men pleasuring you and you felt your orgasm come so close it might have washed over you at any moment.
“Oh fuck yes, ah don’t stop, ah, oh fuck Chris, Leon,” you moaned loudly, voice breaking as you fucked yourself on Chris’ cock. You were still covered in Leon’s cum and when you looked down, you saw the thick ropes of white glistening in the dim light like lotion on your soft skin.
Leon’s mouth sent you over the edge.
You cried out, your muscles tensing, as you rode out a climax so intense you didn’t think you would ever experience anything like it. Moaning and your inner walls massaging Chris' cock you propped yourself up on his chest, clamping your thighs around Leon's head.
"Oh my god," you choked out, barely able to catch your breath.
Leon came up from between your legs and pulled you into a kiss. Never before had you tasted yourself on two men's tongues back to back. Leon tasted completely different. Softer, more delicate. Chris was more musky and intense.
Your ex-boyfriend came up behind you, tilting your head, also kissing you deeply. You went back and forth between them, until Leon moved down, latching onto your nipple, licking his own cum off it and you felt a sudden warm fullness in your breast. Leon let out a satisfied humming sound as he kept sucking and you knew he wasn’t only tasting his own cum when he swallowed greedily.
You brushed his damp hair out of his face and leaned back, kissing up Chris’ jaw, until you found his mouth, making out with him.
This was the most obscene position you had ever found yourself in by far. And you never wanted it to end.
“Did you cum?” you asked Chris in between kisses. He shook his head, gently cupping your cheeks. “But that was so fucking hot,” he breathed.
“I missed you too,” you admitted, nuzzling the side of his face, his beard gently scratching your softer skin.
You could be madly in love with someone and still sometimes miss someone else, right? For old time’s sake. Just because you two had broken up, didn’t mean all the love you once had for each other disappeared into the void. You would never cheat on Leon, or go behind his back, but Chris had just been inside you moments ago. Emotionally, this was a little complicated right now.
Both men gently lowered you back down on the mattress until you were wedged in between their bodies.
You reached for Leon. “You know I love you, right?” you asked, suddenly feeling anxious and a little needy.
He smiled softly, pulling you in for a gentle kiss. “Yes, I know.”
You nodded.
“Don’t worry about it,” he whispered, lips barely leaving yours. “This is different. I get it.”
You let out a relieved breath and reached behind you for Chris, slinging an arm around the back of his neck.
“I want you both,” you whispered, your eyes finding Chris’. “At the same time.”
Leon groaned in anticipation and pressed a kiss to your jaw.
Chris was still hard. Poor guy. He was the only one so far who hadn’t gotten off yet. You shimmied in their grasps until you were facing him and gently closed your hand around his cock, still slick with his precum and your juices. His full lips fell open and his eyes fluttered shut as he let you pleasure him.
Leon reached between your butt cheeks, caressing your ass again, gently stretching you with the tips of his fingers, preparing you for what was about to come.
You bit your lip. While you both loved it, Leon and you rarely had anal sex. Chris and you had done it a lot more often back in the day and you knew how much he loved it, how fast it made him come undone.
You let go of Chris and pressed another kiss to his lips, before turning over again, sinking down between both men. You reached behind you, positioning Chris where you wanted him and grabbed Leon right after, aligning him with your pussy.
“Are you sure?” Leon was panting already, on the verge of losing it at the thought alone. You nodded.
“Yes,” you whispered, and you felt Chris gently push into you. You dug your nails into Leon’s biceps, arching your back.
“Oh my god,” you groaned, Chris’ breath fanning the back of your neck. He drew in a sharp breath and pressed his face into the pillows.
“Oh fuck, you’re so tight,” he moaned, pushing in a little deeper, his sounds of pleasure becoming even louder.
Your breath hitched in the back of your throat. You felt so full already. Chris would never be able to push in all the way. But he didn’t need to. You knew this was as incredible for him as it was for you.
Leon watched your face contort in pleasure as Chris continued to push himself deeper into your ass, finding a slow but steady rhythm.
“This is so hot,” Leon breathed.
“I–” you cried out softly, Chris knocking the breath out of your lungs for a second. “I need you…ah– too,” you whimpered, slinging one leg around Leon’s waist, his arm grabbing your thigh, lifting it and opening you up for both him and Chris.
He aligned himself with your other entrance and you braced yourself, holding on to his shoulders.
“Leon,” you mewled, meeting his gaze, silently begging him to be gentle. He captured your lips in a kiss instead of a response and thrust into you carefully.
You cried out.
Feeling both Chris and Leon buried inside of you nearly send you over the edge right then and there. You felt so full, you didn’t know how you were able to take it all.
When Leon started moving in sync with Chris and both of their breathy moans filled your ears you melted entirely into pleasure. You didn’t know where you ended and Chris began—or Leon. But you didn’t need to. You had two men taking care of you and you trusted them both with it so fully, that you could completely surrender yourself to the sensation, letting go entirely.
Loud moans filled the bedroom, soft sounds of skin meeting skin while breaths quickened and hearts nearly beat out of their respective chest. This was too much. And not enough. You were way too full and way too empty at the same time, every time one of them pulled out, just to thrust into you again. The loop of it was beyond addicting.
You opened your eyes and Leon and Chris were moving closer and closer together, sandwiching you between them, their foreheads nearly touching above you.
You cried out in pure ecstasy, clenching down on both of them at the same time. Chris echoed your moan. “Oh fuck, I’m close,” he whimpered, pressing his forehead against Leon’s.
“Let go,” Leon whispered, capturing his lips in a passionate kiss. “I got you both.”
You gripped Leon’s biceps tighter, your mouth falling open in a desperate cry, Chris’ arms coming around your waist, holding on to you in return.
“Oh fuck, I’m coming,” you sobbed, pulsing around Leon, writhing, completely losing yourself.
Chris let out a guttural grunt, pulling out, hot semen spurting all over your hip and upper thigh. Leon buried a hand in Chris’ hair, pulling him to him, Chris silencing his choked moan with an open mouthed kiss.
After all three of you came down, you lay in bed, holding on to each other. You were covered in both Leon and Chris’ cum, more of Leon’s leaking out of you and onto Chris sheets. But neither of you cared.
“You’re a really good kisser,” Leon whispered, cupping Chris’ cheek, staring at him.
“I know,” Chris chuckled.
You quietly opened the door, tiptoeing into the kitchen. Leon slipped in behind you. The birds were singing outside and the sun was slowly rising. You hadn’t slept all night.
Chris had offered both of you to stay over but you had politely declined because Rhonda was still babysitting your kids and you didn’t want to walk in dishevelled, wearing last night’s clothes while your kids were already awake, sitting around the kitchen table for breakfast.
“Where the hell have you been?”
You flinched and Leon nearly stumbled. “Holy shit, Rhonda.”
She stood in the kitchen, in her pyjamas, fists pressed into her wide hips, staring you down like you were two teenagers she had just caught drinking and smoking weed in a field.
“At Chris’ housewarming like I told you,” you murmured, looking at Leon who nervously scratched the back of his neck. As he did you spotted a massive hickey right under his ear and your eyebrows shot up. That one wasn’t from you. Not that you remembered anyway.
“You didn’t come home all night, I was worried sick,” Rhonda went on.
“Those are some big words coming from someone who probably fed our kids candy all night and let them stay up way past their bedtime,” Leon huffed, quietly closing the door behind him. “I’d say we’re even.”
I will post scheduled updates here so check this list if you want to know when I will be posting 🫶
My requests are open! Don’t be shy, I love seeing people’s ideas & it can get me out of a writing slump! 🥰
contents :
1. Daryl Dixon TWD
2. Leon Kennedy RE
3. Arthur Morgan RDR2
01 Breaking Glasses // ongoing series
pairing; Daryl x fem!Reader
summary; it’s not everyday you work a boring shift at the bar and an apocalypse breaks out
parts; one 🍏, two 🍏, tbc
02 Get me another beer, bitch // oneshot 🍎🐞
pairing; no apocalypse au!Daryl x f!best friend!reader
summary; Merle gets annoying, Daryl acts on years of pent up emotion, just straight smut with a sprinkle of angst 🤭
word count; 3.2k
03 Get me another beer, bitch // sequel
pairing; no apocalypse au!Daryl x f!best friend!reader
summary; a sequel to the above fic!
word count; 4.3k
04 I touch myself //oneshot 🍎
pairing; trailer park au! virgin!daryl x his hand x f!reader
summary; With the trailer to himself Daryl does some… self exploration at the thought of his best friend while she washes her car.
word count; 1.4k
01 Beep! Beep!// oneshot 🍎
pairing; re9!Leon x wife!Reader
summary; Leon comes home from a boring work day and decides to take his wife out for a drive 🤭
word count; 1.4k
02 Go, be a hero.// ongoing series 🍎🍏🐞
pairing; Leon x ex!f!reader
summary; on going fic with a complicated relationship and now a baby lol
03 Officer down / oneshot 🍎
pairing; Rookie!Leon x College!f!Reader
summary; Inspired by @feralbuni666's fic Call for backup which was so unbelievably peak.
Coming out as soon as I stop being busy 😭
word count; ...
01 By the Lake //oneshot 🍎
pairing: arthur
morgan x f!reader
summary; A hot afternoon by the lake turns into something far more dangerous when a stranger with a fishing rod interrupts your reading of Romeo and Juliet.
word count: 6.8k
02 When the Man Comes Around // drabble 🍎
pairing; arthur x f!reader
summary; a piece of prose about Arthur coming but never stating, I was thinking about Eliza when I wrote it.
word count; 600ish
𐙚⋆°｡⋆♡͏ Author Note 𐙚⋆°｡⋆♡͏
This is a work in progress and I’m hoping to add even more characters & fandoms to it as I work on my writing and just try to have fun with it!!
I hope that you enjoy and as always if it’s not for you that’s okay! Just scroll 🥰
Guys I’m on holiday rn but I will be back soon. I was at Metallica 🏴 and then I’m off to Dublin next week so we busyyyyy, might drop a quick oneshot then resume my series in July 🫣🤭
summary; A three parter, dad leon and the cafe in this part, part b they go on a date and then i've got a sexy surprise in part c hehe.
word count; Had to split this part into three because tumblr kept complaining about how big it was so, this is part a, b will be posted once I finish formatting this and then c will be tomorrow!
links; part one, part two , part three, part four, part five , part six,part seven, part eight.
apologies if i missed anyone wanting to be tagged, comment to be tagged in the next one!! <3
Leon’s POV
“Daddy look!” Freya squealed.
Leon huffed, this was a lot harder than he thought it was going to be.
“Coming princess.” He sighed, his eyes leaving his laptop and travelling to the mess in the middle of the living room.
Freya had dumped out all of her toys in the middle and was using the window sill, the fire escape, and the bookcase as a dollhouse - or more accurately a doll village.
Leon walked over nonchalantly before clocking the steady stream of water pouring out of the fire escape and onto some very angry civilians below.
“Freya!” he shouted, lifting the cup and looking down to see a heavyset man hurling abuse in his direction.
He shut the window quickly and placed the cup on the coffee table with a sigh.
“Sorry dada.” Freya frowned, her big puppy eyes looking up at him.
“It's okay baby, just- lets not play at the fire escape anymore okay?”
She nodded sweetly and went back to playing with her dolls, thrusting a dinosaur into his hands.
At first, Leon was unsure of how to play with her. His hand cautiously thumped the dinosaur on the floor amongst the array of other toys.
But eventually , he got the hang of it, losing himself in the mindlessness of pretending to be a talking dinosaur.
“No daddy-” Freya laughed, grabbing the dinosaur from his hands. “Dino doesn’t drink smoothies.”
“What? Even dino’s need their 5 a day.” He grinned.
“You’re funny.” She giggled, dropping her toys and standing up. “Can we have lunch now?”
Lunch. Shit.
Hadn’t thought of that one..
“Of course…” he trailed off, picking himself up off the floor. “What do you want?”
“Marco makes me lunch.” Freya smiled ear to ear.
“Hmmm that's not what mum told me.” Leon’s brow raised.
“But he does!” Freya protested. “And, I miss mummy soooo much.”
Leon sighed, what a manipulator. Then he smiled, hands folded in front of his chest, “I guess we could, it's only downstairs.”
Freya ran to the door in an instant, her socks causing her to slide and fall next to the door.
She grabbed her shoes without a second thought and rammed them onto her feet, fastening the velcro with ease.
“Ready!!” She yelled, sitting with her feet out in front of her.
“Wow,” Leon dragged on, “didn’t know I was father to The Flash."
“HURRRYYYYY!” she whined.
“Alright, geez.” Leon huffed, grabbing his shoes. “You’re really like your mum, you know that?”
Freya nodded confidently, her toothy grin irresistibly cute. “Auntie Rach tells me all the time.”
“Hmmm, figures.” Leon huffed, standing up and grabbing the keys. “Show me the way, little lady.”
𐙚⋆°｡⋆♡͏ 𐙚⋆°｡⋆♡͏ 𐙚⋆°｡⋆♡͏ 𐙚⋆°｡⋆♡
Reader's POV
The door to the cafe had barely shut all morning.
A seemingly endless stream of people kept piling in and out.
Barely any sit ins though, which was a plus on a day like today.
“Babe-” Rachel touched your back. “Take over I’m bursting-”
You nodded in response, sliding over to the espresso machine and reading the receipt on the counter.
“Two americanos, can do.” You huffed, grinding the coffee beans.
“Need a hand?” Avery called from the kitchen.
“You’re alright, check on Marco.”
“I'm always being checked on,” Marco shouted back immediately. “Nobody trusts me.”
“Because you set a towel on fire last week.”
“It was a controlled experiment.”
“It was arson.”
The bell above the door chimed.
Ding-ding-ding.
You barely looked up.
“Good Afternoon, what can I-” The words died in your throat.
Leon stood in the doorway.
Freya immediately spotted you.
“MUMMY!”
Every customer in the café turned.
Your daughter launched herself across the floor like a tiny missile.
“Freya-” Leon started.
Too late.
She crashed into your legs at full speed.
You laughed despite yourself, crouching to catch her before she took both of you out.
“Hey baby.”
She wrapped herself around your neck.
“We came for lunch.”
“We?”
She pointed dramatically behind her.
Leon stood by the door looking exhausted already.
One hand hooked into his jacket pocket.
The other carried a tiny pink backpack.
“Apparently,” he said.
You bit back a smile.
“Daddy doesn't know how to make lunch.”
“I absolutely know how to make lunch.”
Freya gasped.
“He made Dino drink smoothies.”
“Wow.”
“He needs his five a day.” Leon defended himself.
“Notorius carnivore, but okay.”
Freya giggled loudly between you.
Rachel emerged from the back carrying a tray.
She froze.
“Oh good,” she deadpanned. “It's him.”
“Afternoon Rachel.”
“Debatable.”
Leon didn't even react anymore.
Which somehow made it funnier.
Freya immediately reached for Rachel.
“Auntie!”
Rachel abandoned all hostility instantly.
“Hello pumpkin.”
The betrayal was immediate.
Leon pointed.
“See?”
“Don't.”you huffed
“She likes her more.”
“Well, yeah.”
Freya had already forgotten both of them existed.
“Auntie Rachel look.”
“Wow.”
“And this.”
“Wow.”
“And THIS.”
“Wow.”
You watched Rachel suffer through twenty consecutive toy demonstrations before finally looking back at Leon.
He looked tired.
But what's new.
Whatever was happend down in South America was chewing pieces off him.
“Sleep well?” you asked quietly.
His eyes found yours.
“Like a baby.”
“Good.”
“Yeah.”
A pause.
Then-
“Mama.”
You looked down.
Freya held both hands up dramatically.
“Carry me.”
“You can walk.”
“No.”
“You literally ran in here.”
“No.”
Leon snorted into his coffee.
You glared.
He immediately looked away.
The bastard was smiling.
“Daddy carry me then.”
“See?” Leon said. “I'm the favourite now.”
Freya immediately shook her head.
“No.”
The silence that followed was glorious.
Rachel nearly dropped a cup laughing.
You pressed your lips together.
Leon looked genuinely offended.
“Wow.”
“Sorry dada.”
“You don't sound sorry.”
“No.”
Another burst of laughter escaped you.
And for a moment-
Everything felt normal.
Like none of the years in between had happened.
𐙚⋆°｡⋆♡͏ 𐙚⋆°｡⋆♡͏ 𐙚⋆°｡⋆♡͏ 𐙚⋆°｡⋆♡
You walked out of the cafe for a smoke, Leon trailing behind you and leaving Freya inside with Rachel, Avery and Marco.
“I wanted to ask,” he paused, scratching the back of his neck. “You want to go out, tonight?”
“Leon, I have Freya.” you said softly, lighting your cigarette.
“No, I know, but can Rachel take her. We need some time, alone.” He looked away at the word alone.
You felt horrible for him and his predicament, and some part of you desperately wanted a date.
“Alright, I’ll ask. No guarantees.”
“Awesome.” He smiled, as wide as his tired eyes would let him. “We’ll get dinner.”
“Sure thing Romeo.” You huffed. “No funny business though. I can’t handle another Freya.”
He huffed out a laugh.
“No funny business.”
You narrowed your eyes.
“You say that now.”
“I mean it.”
“Mmhm.”
Leon looked offended.
You took another drag of your cigarette.
“Besides,” you added. “You couldn't handle me.”
That earned a proper laugh.
“Sure.”
“You couldn't.”
“Whatever helps you sleep.”
You rolled your eyes.
For a moment neither of you spoke.
The easy silence surprised you.
It shouldn't have.
Not anymore.
Eventually you flicked ash into the tray beside the door.
“Well.”
“Well.”
“You gonna stand there all afternoon?”
Leon shoved his hands into his pockets.
“Probably.”
“You have a child inside.”
“I know.”
“Who is almost certainly committing a crime.”
His eyes drifted toward the window.
A beat.
“Yeah.”
Another beat.
“She definitely is.”
You both turned at exactly the same moment.
Through the café window Freya could be seen standing on a chair.
Marco was trying to get her down.
Rachel appeared to be encouraging her.
“Great.”
“Fantastic.”
“Your fault.”
“My fault?”
“She got your energy, Rookie.”
“Not a rookie anymore.”
You gave him a look.
“Still.” You shrugged. “Rookie to me.”
“You never even saw me in uniform.”
“I wish.” You blurted before you could stop yourself.
“Oh, is that right?” His voice lowered.
“Shut up.” Your cheeks flushed red.
“Mhmm, okay.”
“Shut up!” You laughed, nudging his shoulder.
A beat.
That silence intruded again.
“I missed your laugh.”
“That all?” You teased, surprising yourself.
“No-” He looked down, hands on his hips. “But I’ll save that for later.
Rachel’s fist banged on the window behind you.
“No funny business Mr Kennedy!” She yelled.
Freya’s face squished against the glass.
“Thats you told.” You giggled, stubbing out your cigarette and going to open the door.
Leon followed behind, his body too close for comfort as you pulled the door open.
Your back met his chest for a moment and his hands instinctually went to your hips.
Then, inside, he was far away again, loitering at the door instead of coming in.
𐙚⋆°｡⋆♡͏ 𐙚⋆°｡⋆♡͏ 𐙚⋆°｡⋆♡͏
Rachel had removed herself from the window and had begun counting the till when you approached.
“No.”
You blinked.
“I haven't asked anything yet.”
“No.”
“Rachel.”
“No.”
“Rach.”
“Nope.”
You sighed heavily.
Across the room Leon immediately found something very interesting on the ceiling.
Coward.
“You don't even know what I'm asking.”
“Yes I do.”
“No you don't.”
“I absolutely do.”
Avery snorted from behind the espresso machine.
Marco looked between everyone like he was watching live television.
“She's asking if you'll watch Freya.”
Rachel pointed triumphantly.
“See?”
You glared at Marco.
“Traitor.”
“I'm Italian,” he said solemnly. “We thrive on drama.”
“Can I finish asking?”
“No.”
“Rachel.”
“No.”
“Rachel.”
“No.”
“Rachel.”
“Fine.”
You immediately smiled.
“Thank you.”
“I haven't agreed yet.”
“Yes you have.”
Rachel groaned.
“You're both impossible.”
“Love you too.”
“Shut up.”
Freya looked up from colouring.
“Can I stay with Auntie Rachel?”
Rachel's expression melted instantly.
The hypocrite.
“Of course you can, pumpkin.”
“Ha.”
“Don't.”
“Ha.”
Rachel pointed at you.
“One word and I'm charging babysitting rates.”
You gasped dramatically.
“You'd charge a single mother?”
“Absolutely.”
Marco nearly fell over laughing.
“That's evil.”
“I'm aware.”
“Marco's staying too, right?” Freya grinned ear to ear.
Rachel froze.
Marco froze.
Avery immediately looked away.
Interesting.
Very interesting.
Your brows lifted slowly.
“Oh.”
“Don't.”
“Oh my God.”
“Don't start.”
“Marco's staying, huh?” You looked down at Freya.
Rachel looked ready to commit a felony.
Marco suddenly became fascinated by the kitchen and walked away as fast as his legs could carry him.
“Oh my God.”
“Shut up.”
“Did you two…?.”
“No.”
“You absolutely did.”
“I did not..”
You burst out laughing.
Rachel looked seconds away from throwing something.
“Go on your stupid date.”
“It's not a date.”
Rachel stared.
Then at Leon.
Then back at you.
“Sure, babe.”
You hated how smug she looked.
Especially because she was probably right.
Avery laughed as she swept the floor.
“Oh and don’t do what you did last time.” Rachel said sternly.
You furrowed your brow.
“No funny business, Rach.” you huffed.
Avery giggled “You’re stronger than me.”
“Avery!” you and Rachel shouted in unison.
“What… look at him.” She huffed, turning to glance at Leon, whose hands were still on his hips, his eyes flicking between the ceiling to the floor.
“Yeah, okay.” Rachel sighed.
“Guys.”
“No, no he’s your problem.” Rachel held her hands up. “He’s just nice to look at.”
“Jesus Christ.” You huffed. “She goes to bed at 7 by the way so, I want her asleep when I get back.
“Yes Ma’am.” Rachel saluted.
“Oh and Rachel,” you paused, grinning ear to ear. “Don’t fuck Marco in my apartment please.”
Rachel choked.
Avery screamed.
From the kitchen came the sound of something metal hitting the floor.
You were already walking toward the door.
Leon laughing beside you.
𐙚⋆°｡⋆♡͏ 𐙚⋆°｡⋆♡͏ 𐙚⋆°｡⋆♡͏ 𐙚⋆°｡⋆♡
The laughter followed you out onto the pavement.
Mostly Rachel's.
You could still hear her shouting something through the café door as it swung shut behind you.
The door closed.
Silence.
Well.
Almost silence.
The city buzzed around you as evening settled over the street.
For the first time all day, it was just the two of you.
You immediately became aware of it.
So did Leon.
He shoved his hands into his jacket pockets.
You adjusted the strap of your bag.
Neither of you said anything.
“...Well.”
“Wow.” Leon glanced sideways at you. “You really are funny.”
You snorted.
“Thank you.”
“Thought you should know.”
“Appreciate it.”
A smile tugged at his mouth.
Then his gaze drifted toward the apartment building across the street.
“You wanna head up?”
You hesitated.
“Probably shouldn't show up to dinner smelling like espresso and burnt toast.”
“Oh good, so I’m not having a stroke.” He snorted.
You ignored the one liner.
“Give me twenty minutes.”
Leon nodded once.
“Take your time.”
You started walking backwards toward the building entrance.
“Don't disappear.”
Something flickered across his face.
Small.
Gone almost immediately.
“Wouldn't dream of it.”
The words landed heavier than either of you intended.
Your smile faltered slightly.
So did his.
Then you pointed at him.
“Twenty minutes.”
“Twenty minutes.”
You disappeared inside before you could overthink it.
𐙚⋆°｡⋆♡͏ 𐙚⋆°｡⋆♡͏ 𐙚⋆°｡⋆♡͏
Rachel was waiting when you opened the apartment door.
Arms folded.
Leaning against the kitchen counter.
Looking insufferably pleased with herself.
“Oh good.” She grinned. “The date survived the first five minutes.”
“It's not a date.”
“Mhmm.”
You kicked your shoes off.
“Did you climb the fire escape?”
“Of course.”
“You’re insane!”
Rachel looked offended.
“I am an amazing friend.”
You laughed despite yourself.
Then headed for your bedroom.
Rachel immediately followed.
“Absolutely not.”
“Oh come on.”
“No.”
“I need to see the outfit.”
“You do not.”
“I absolutely do.”
You groaned as she slipped into the room behind you..
“Rachel.”
“What?”
“You're nearing thirty.”
“And?”
“You act sixteen.”
“Thank you.”
“That wasn't a compliment.”
Rachel sat cross-legged on your bed.
“Get changed.”
You threw a pillow at her.
She caught it.
Smug.
Infuriating.
Unfortunately helpful.
Twenty minutes later you stood in front of the mirror.
Nothing fancy.
Nothing dramatic.
Just enough effort that you immediately regretted making it.
Rachel noticed.
“See?”
“See what?”
“You wanted it to be a date.”
Your face heated.
“No.”
“Babe.”
“No.”
“You changed three times.”
You pointed aggressively.
“That means nothing.”
“It means everything.”
A knock echoed through the apartment.
Both of you froze.
Rachel's grin became genuinely evil.
“Oh my God.”
“Rachel.”
“He's here.”
“Rachel.”
You grabbed your bag.
“Goodbye.”
“Hope you get boned.”
“I'm not doing that.”
“You absolutely should.”
You opened the door.
Immediately stopped.
Leon stood in the hallway.
And for a second neither of you spoke.
Because apparently he had changed too.
Dark button-up.
Sleeves rolled to his forearms.
Hair still slightly damp.
Like he'd actually tried.
Which felt unfair.
His eyes lifted.
Found yours.
Stopped.
A beat.
Then another.
Something shifted in his expression.
Soft.
Almost surprised.
“You look...” He cleared his throat.
Your stomach flipped.
“Hm?”
His gaze flicked away.
Then back.
“Nice.”
Brilliant.
You smiled despite yourself.
“You too, where did you-.”
“Don’t worry about it.”
“Well you look handsome.”
Behind you came the sound of Rachel violently fake-gagging.
The spell shattered instantly.
Leon laughed.
You covered your face.
“Please ignore her.”
“Can't.”
“Fair.”
Rachel appeared over your shoulder.
“Have fun!”
“Rachel.”
“Use protection!”
“RACHEL.”
The door slammed in her face.
The silence that followed lasted exactly two seconds.
Then Leon laughed again.
The bastard.
“You ready?”
You nodded.
“Yeah.”
𐙚⋆°｡⋆♡͏ 𐙚⋆°｡⋆♡͏ 𐙚⋆°｡⋆♡͏
When you got outside, his gaze drifted toward the street.
Toward the motorcycle.
Then back to you.
A little more cautious this time.
“Question.”
“What?”
“You okay on the bike?”
The concern in his voice caught you off guard.
“If not,” he continued. “I'll call a cab.”
You blinked.
Then smiled slightly.
“Leon.”
“Yeah?”
“I did it before.”
“Different now.”
His eyes dipped briefly.
Toward your apartment.
Then back to you.
“You don't have to do anything.”
Something warm settled in your chest.
“We'll take the bike.”
His shoulders relaxed slightly.
“Okay.”
Mounting it was a different story.
You stood beside the motorcycle staring at it.
Then at your outfit.
Then back at the motorcycle.
Leon watched the process unfold in real time.
“You alright there?”
“Shut up.”
“I didn't say anything.”
“You were thinking it.”
A faint smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth.
That was answer enough.
You planted one foot on the ground.
Immediately lost all grace.
“Jesus Christ.”
Leon bit the inside of his cheek.
“You wanna laugh?”
“Not particularly.”
“You do.”
“A little.”
You shot him a look.
He finally gave up and laughed.
The sound hit you square in the chest.
God.
You hated how much you missed hearing it.
“Okay.” You muttered. “Move.”
“Move?”
“Move.”
Leon stepped closer.
Not teasing now.
Just helping.
One hand settled carefully at your waist.
The other steadied the handlebars.
The contact was brief.
Barely there.
Still.
Your stomach betrayed you immediately.
“There.” he said softly.
You climbed on.
Successfully this time.
“See?”
“Don't get smug.”
“Wouldn't dream of it.”
Liar.
Leon swung onto the bike a second later, settling in front of you.
For a moment neither of you moved.
Then the reality of the situation hit.
Your hands.
You weren't sure what to do with them.
Three years ago you would've wrapped yourself around him without thinking.
Now everything felt different.
Complicated.
You hesitated.
Leon glanced back over his shoulder.
“You can hold on.”
Heat rushed into your face.
“I'm aware.”
“Right.”
A beat.
“You look like you're trying to solve a math problem.”
“Drive the bike, Kennedy.”
His shoulders shook.
Laughing again.
Eventually you placed your hands carefully against his sides.
Keeping space between you.
As much space as a motorcycle allowed.
Leon didn't comment.
Didn't look back.
Just reached for his helmet.
“Ready?”
You swallowed.
“Ready.”
So excited to be back writing this series I love it so much.
