it all started when you began poking fun at Zankaâs little southern drawl. the way he said certain words. you started calling him a cowboy, and various other things like âsherrifâ or âoutlawâ or âbanditâ. but cowboy was your favorite nickname for him. this little nickname game goes further when one day he shows you that saying - âsave a horse, ride a cowboyââŠ
oh, really?
you knock on his door, but donât wait for him. you open it, leaning against the doorway. he looks up at you from where heâs sitting on his bed, drying his hair with a towel. he looks like he just got out of the shower.
âsave a horse, do what now?â
âum..â
âso now youâre flustered? ohhhkaayâŠâ
it was true, he could be filthy as he wanted over messages, but the minute you came to his room? he was all flushed cheeks and tripping over his words.
you push off the doorway, shutting the door behind you as you go over to sit next to him on the bed. you take the towel from him and start drying his hair.
âhey, i wouldnât mind..cowboy,â
he knows exactly what youâre trying to do. not like he minds, thoughâŠ
you swing a leg over so youâre straddling his lap, and he spreads his legs a little to accommodate you. his hands find your waist, rubbing up and down your sides as you dry his hair for him.
âi was beinâ kinda serious, ya knowâŠâ zanka mumbled.
âwere you now?â
âcompletely.â
âreally?â
âmhm.â
âreeeally??â
âjesus- yes, really! cmere..â
he grunted, grabbing hold of your hips. you just grin and toss the towel somewhere behind you. his fingers flexed slightly against your skin as he pressed you down against the growing bulge in his pants.
you lean forward, your lips finding his. he sighs quietly against your mouth, tilting his head to the side. his sounds just get needier when you start grinding, and he rolls his hips up to meet yours. if he wasnât already shirtless, youâd be tugging it off right now.
he slides your shorts off, and his fingers quickly find their way to the damp fabric over your dripping cunt. his breath catches and he rubs two fingers in little circles over the fabric, jaw slack.
âh-holy shit, yer wet as fuck..â
he manages after a few seconds. his expression is pure awe, as if heâs never experienced you like this before (he has, plenty of times.)
he catches his bottom lip between his teeth as you roll your hips against his hand while yours grip his shoulders. his fingers slide underneath your panties and finally glide through your slick folds. feeling you huff against his neck encourages him, so he presses his middle and ring finger inside slowly, crooking them up gently at first.
âyeah? t-thatâs good?â
he asks, and when heâs met with a nod, the pace increases. he curls his fingers up faster now, putting that perfect pressure at the top of your gummy walls. he leans forward and kisses at the side of your neck to distract himself from how warm your pussy is. his hand that rubbed up and down your back was gripping the back of your neck now.
all of that combined makes you lose it on top of him, brain short circuiting and legs trembling as you gush around his fingers with a broken moan. his lips curl up against your neck and he slows his fingers to a stop, waiting for you to finish fully before pulling them out slowly.
after your breathing is finally steady again, itâs only fair to repay the favor, right? you move your shaky legs off of him, and instead kneel in front of him. he leans back on his hands, watching intently as your hands slide his pants, then boxers down with ease. his head drops forward and he exhales sharply through his nose when the cool air hits his sensitive length.
the cold doesnât last for long though, because his eyes are wide again once your warm mouth engulfs him.
âo-oh..â
he gasps a little, taking in the sensation of your tongue swirling over his tip. his fingers clench in the sheets, because itâs affecting him more than heâd like to admit. especially the way you press a little kiss to the flushed head everytime you reach the topâŠ
god, zanka is a weak man when it comes to the way you bob your head up and down on him, itâs something heâll never be able to forget.
you close your eyes and wrap your hand around what doesnât fit in your mouth at the base. you hum softly against him, and his thighs tense up at the vibration. he knows heâs getting close when his hips start to jerk up. he curses under his breath and pulls you off of him and back onto his lap with a soft âcmere..â
one of his hands on the side of your thigh helps guide your leg over his. his other hand, so lightly, with barely-there touches, teases and caresses your clit, just to make sure youâre wet enough for him to slide in smoothly.
you lift your hips up and he watches with precise focus as he lines himself up. the moment he pushes in past the top he has to wonder to himself - whatâs the point of having you ride him if youâre so tight that he feels like he could cum right this second?
but thereâs no time for dumb questions like that. only for his hand squeezing the side of your thigh to ground himself, while his free hand fists in the sheets. he lets out a string of shaky moans and praises as you slowly sink down - âoh god- yer so tightâŠâ âs-so warm..my perfect girl, so goodâŠâ among others.
both of his hands grip your waist tightly and he presses his forehead to your collarbone with gritted teeth when he finally bottoms out. that tense, jaw-clenched expression softens into something blissful as he fully registers the sensation of you around him.
âfuckâŠthank you, love,â he whispers, fingers gripping you so tight they trembled.
âmmh..anytime, cowboy.â
he scoffs at that, looking up at you through his lashes for a second, then back down.
âshut yer mouth and ride this fâme then..okay?â
his hands slide down to cup your ass, starting to move you with evident need. heâs painfully hard inside you, and his breaths are shallow as he drags you up and down his length in a desperate attempt at relief.
âbreathe, zanka..â you remind gently, running your fingers through his hair. he doesnât listen too hard though, as he dips his head further down to latch onto one of your breasts, one hand coming up to knead at the other. he sucks softly on one pebbled nipple, and your fingers tightening in his hair just feels like confirmation that heâs doing it right.
but he was already threateningly close from the way you had sucked him off just minutes ago, so it didnât take much to send him over the edge. you clench around him when his teeth graze your nipple, and its game over.
he pulls back just enough to bite down hard on his bottom lip. his hands fly to your hips, brows furrowing as he ruts up into you. a warm wetness fills your tight walls as he spills over with a choked-off whine.
he looks up at you apologetically through his lashes as he tries to catch his breath, chest heaving. he opens his mouth to say something, but you donât give him time - rolling onto your back, you pull him on top of you. his brows raise a little at the change in position, but heâs certainly not complaining. if anything, he reaches down to hike one of your legs around his hip, still buried inside.
his brain is still catching up to his body when you give him a look of âwell? what are you waiting for??â he nods, huffing out a small âright,â and starting to move his hips. he pulls out halfway, then roll his hips real slow, like heâs making up for how quick he came moments ago.
it doesnât take him long to pick up the pace, lewd squelching noises filling the thick air between you two. your reactions only drive him further, everytime you gasp or moan out his name, or even claw at his shoulders, heâll slam into you particularly hard, like heâs trying to draw more sounds out of you.
getting lost in trying to please you, he feels the need to be impossibly deeper. to reach places nobody else can. he reaches down, grips the undersides of your thighs, and presses up. your knees touch your chest and he doesnât slow down for a second.
his breath comes in labored pants through gritted teeth as he pounds into you at a brutal pace like itâs the most intense thing heâll ever do. and it certainly does feel like it. the way heâs pressing your legs up has you turning your head to the side to bite the pillowcase beneath you because you can practically feel him in your stomach. you canât even manage words anymore, not even his name - just muffled moans from the back of your throat and whines that get higher as you feel him nudge deeper.
he glances up at your face, the way youâre sinking your teeth into the fabric. âsheâs close..â he thinks, and slides one hand down to your clit. he presses two fingers down on that sensitive bud and watches in awe when you jerk. he starts circling it with steady pressure and pure fascination.
his hips stutter as you let go with a broken whimper into the pillow. his eyes go wide and he bites down on his bottom lip when you squirt on him. his fingers twitch against your clit, and his thrusts resume with a newfound determination.
seconds later, heâs coming inside you again with a shaky groan, his hands slipping from your legs and gripping the sheets as he weakly ruts into you, slowing down gradually. his head drops, sweat beading on his forehead when he pulls out and collapses on his back next to you.
heâs at a loss for words, mind scrambled with pleasure and love. he turns his head to the side to look at you.
ânice ride, cowboy?â you ask, cheeks flushed but accompanied by a smug grin.
âshut up..totally not the time,â he sighs, feigning annoyance, even though affection is seeping through the cracks. he rolls over and deals an arm around you, burying his face against your stomach and inhaling deeply. seems like that quote was right.
A/N - oh my gosh this is FINALLY done. it made me so happy seeing so many likes the teaser for this got, and that determined me to finish writing it honestly. thinking of how many people liked just the teaser, not even the real fic, and how many people would be looking forward to reading my fic was why i wanted to get it posted quickly. thank you guys so much for the support and everything and feel free to leave requests!! lux luvs u đ«¶!!
Summary: You take down a monster but it has one last surprise for you â a polar plunge. Leon's forced to go in after you. Once you're free of the ice, you've got to go get warm, fast.
WC: 4.5k
CW: NSFW, minors DNI, you and Leon are partnered DSO agents, monster fight, no use of y/n, no mention of ages, reader put in peril, reader is injured, shared body heat, sex in the back of the Porsche, first time (together), unprotected p in v, creampie, synchronized orgasms, sort of aftercare (Leon is sweet and attentive), I'm so incredibly not kidding half of this is porn
Notes: MINORS DNI
The root of the problem is there are too many fucking limbs to keep track of.
The monsterâs knotted, slimy arms â if you could call them such â are clawed into the ground, keeping it pulled onto the shore, and it has plenty more to swing and slam and bludgeon with, swatting at you and Leon running around like youâre nothing more than pestering flies. After an initial trial of overwhelm, youâre learning: shoot for the bends to shatter joints, hit the ground when it swings then immediately roll to avoid the follow-up slam meant to unite you with the dirt. Permanently.
Thereâs an additional complication.
âItâs a fucking hydra!â Leon shouts.
Itâs a fucking hydra. Youâre dealing with more limbs now than when it had burst out of the frozen lake and charged you, with a screech so piercing it still rings in your ears. This changes things, if you donât want to end up popped like a sauce packet on the patchy grass bank.
âFuck.â
You have to keep moving, but youâre not shooting at it now. Youâre reassessing, heart pounding, breath loud in your ears and visible in the cold, grey air. Leon grunts as he dives clear of a slamming limb, rolling to his feet and dodging the bullwhip crack of another arm.
Your gaze locks on the grenade hanging from his belt. A plan fills in behind your singular focus.
He sees you half a second before you slam into him at full tilt, no time to slow down, but his stance is wide enough that it doesnât knock him over.
âWhatâ!â
You meet his eyes. You can see the next threat in your periphery; your one, his six, another slimy limb coming in hot. Heâs realizing where your hand is. It all happens in the space of a heartbeat.
âSpicy meatball,â you explain, then drop him by kicking your heel into the back of his knee, folding it. Your grip on the grenade yanks it free of his belt and you hold it up over your head as the hydraâs arm, great ugly claw-hand open, misses Leon on the ground and grabs you, ripping you into the air. Leon shouts your name but itâs lost under an ear-splitting, triumphant screech.
The monsterâs clutching you too tight, you're gasping for air. Your dominant arm is free, grenade in hand, even if your other arm is squashed in against your side. The fuckerâs whipping you around like a litigiously unregulated county fair ride; black edges your vision and your head pounds horribly. You manage to arm the grenade with your teeth and grip it, breathless, waiting.
You need the hydra to screech again. You need the great stinking mouth open, throwing saliva and mucus past rows of needle teeth, the perfect basket in which to throw your one and only egg.
Leonâs already caught on.
A single splattering gunshot splits the air and the monster jerks, limbs flying skyward as it screams in fury; youâre helplessly along for the ride, heaved almost directly above it â and hereâs your window.
You drop the grenade. It goes right down the gullet.
The explosion ruptures the monsterâs body cavity in a great geyser of green and black gore. Its limbs thrash and flail, whipping high, slamming into the ground. You brace as the arm gripping you speeds for the ground, but then it swings you around and back up, your stomach lurching violently, and â
It throws you.
Your heart and lungs hitch, suspended; time runs slow as you arc high, tumbling, too high, way too high â and start falling. You see where youâre going to land and curl yourself into a ball, protecting your head and neck.
Your body blows a hole right through the lake ice, plunging into the freezing water below.
Leonâs already running.
The hydra is nothing but a tangled, limp, caved-in pile of slop, disregarded the second Leon saw you go airborne. Heâs running, stripping off his jacket, ripping open the buckles on his chest rig, tearing off his tac belt, leaving a trail of weapons and ammunition and nylon webbing strewn in his wake. He reaches the bank in his street clothes, shoes skidding to a stop just before the water, breath loud in his ears and visible in the air.
The jagged crater you left in the ice is still sloshing dark, slushy water.
You havenât come up for air.
âFuck.â
He looks down at the scuffed grey ice pack, gauges the distance to you, and sprints.
The ice groans and cracks under his feet; he keeps moving. He closes the gap, every pounding footfall turbulence that fractures the lake ice in great echoing snaps, the whole thick sheet weakened by the violence of your intrusion. Finally, with a leap that calves the ice beneath him, Leon dives into the freezing water after you.
The shock of the cold pulls on Leonâs lungs, he has to fight against the primal instinct to gasp. His limbs are immediately leaden, but he doesn't stop moving. The flat grey daylight barely filters through the murky ice above and the water is dark with disturbed silt. He kicks towards the lakebed in search of you, his pounding heartbeat a timer counting down.
Something that looks like a branch solidifies into your arm, limp hand floating in a slack reach skyward. Leon grabs your wrist, hauling your dead weight towards himself, hooking his arms underneath your shoulders and swimming up for the gap in the ice.
He heaves in air when your heads breach the surface.
You do not.
âDonât you dare,â he growls through gritted teeth, and manages to slide you up onto the ice pack, pushing you clear as he kicks his legs up behind himself and drags flat onto the ice beside you. He moves you onto a thick, uncracked stretch of ice and pushes you onto your back, plugging your nose and forcing air into your mouth.
You choke, spurting dirty lake water, rolling onto your side and spitting up more, coughing and heaving. You try to prop yourself up on your elbow, your throat raw and tight, nose stinging and burning. Your eyes are blurry when you open them, your ears are waterlogged. You squeeze your eyes shut and blink them clear enough to see what keeps pulling at you.
Itâs Leon, wet and pale, saying something to you, his eyes intense. You squint at his mouth, trying to read his lips because your ears might as well have been left underwater for all the good theyâre doing you.
Get up
We need to move
Can you âhear me? We have to go, now!â
As if to punctuate his statement, the ice below you jerks, a crack scything underneath your body like a bolt of lightning. You recoil onto your hip and Leon pulls at your arm, pulls you up, the ice creaking and popping under your shoes.
âRun!â
Itâs a bit much to ask.
You do your best, stumbling after Leon, short on breath and coughing. Youâd impacted the ice with your left shoulder, the force ramming your curled arm into your ribs, hard. That side is tight and painful, and you know youâre too frozen to feel the full extent of it yet. Itâs really not gonna be pretty.
Your foot catches on a rising gap in the ice and trips you; you slide and weakly scramble back to your feet. Ahead of you, Leonâs almost to the shore.
Youâre almost there.
You hit the bank on your hands and knees, gasping. Your fingers, clawing into the crumbling dirt, are pale, the nail beds blue. You can barely feel the dry grit of the cold earth under your hands.
Leon grabs the collar of your jacket and yanks you to standing.
âKeep moving. Keep moving, come on.â He grabs your hand, already running, pulling you after him.
You half-register the scattered bullet clips, weaponry, and leather jacket on the bank as you run in Leonâs wake. You pass the fuckass hydra; itâs nothing but a gelatinous stinking puddle that you quickly leave behind.
The thin, brittle air razors through your lungs, freezing and metallic. The bitter wind axes at you. You canât feel your extremities; you keep stumbling and itâs slowing you down. Leon looks back just in time to watch you actually fall, tripping in a rut, knees slamming into the ground. He runs back to you and helps you up. Youâre both breathing shallow, wracked with tremors, teeth chattering and skin close to blue.
âAlmost there. Come on.â
Leonâs car is half-hidden behind a broken fence and an overgrown shrub, parked haphazard on the dry, patchy grass. He hits the driverâs side door with more momentum than he meant to, pressing his thumb to the door handle; it unlocks and he yanks it open. You hear the whole car unlock, the lights flashing, and he slaps the driverâs door shut in favor of the backseat.
âGet in. Get in!â
You slip in the back passengerâs door just as he slides in on the other side, the both of you slamming the doors on the freezing wind. Leon immediately grabs the hem of his soaked shirt, peeling it over his head and dumping it over the headrests into the trunk. It lands with a wet plap.
âWet stuff in the back,â he says, twisting over the seats to grab something out of the trunk. Itâs a duffel; he grunts in frustration when his numb fingers fail at first to catch the handle but then he drags it into the backseat while youâre struggling out of your soaked jacket and shoving it over the backrests. It lands with an even wetter plorp.
Youâre still wearing your chest rig; your numb, stiff fingers canât get the fucking plastic buckles to open.
âFuck!â
Thereâs a sharp snk noise; Leon shoves your hands clear and slips a folding knife under the nylon webbing of your rig. The straps pull taut and dig into your injured side, but then heâs cut clean through the belts and heâs helping untangle it from your arms. The buckles clatter against the back windshield as you throw it in the trunk. Leon uses the knife to make quick work of his shoelaces, kicking his soaked and muddy shoes into the footwell, then he leans across and holds your ankles steady, cutting your bootlaces while you peel your shirt up over your head. Your side screams at the stretch and you rasp out a cry of pain.
Your left side is already violently bruised, livid and dark against the pale blanch of your goosepimpled skin. Youâre caught for a moment by the horrible picture it makes, trying to remember to breathe.
âJesus,â Leon says in agreement. In your periphery, heâs struggling with his waterlogged skinny jeans and thereâs suddenly a lot more skin above the line of his waistband; the denim sucked his boxer briefs halfway down his hips before he managed to shove the jeans to his knees and off. He throws the jeans in the back, pulls the waistband of his underwear up, and again heâs in your space undoing your useless fucking tac belt that your frozen fingers canât open. His hands are just as cold and numb as your own, why the fuck do they work better than yours?
Wind gusts against the outside of the car, scratching the scraggly branches of the nearby shrub against the doors. You feel a draft even through the sealed door. Your teeth are clacking uncontrollably.
âCan we get the fucking heat running?â You shove your pants and boots into the trunk, smearing mud on the leather seat. Leonâs rooting through the duffel again.
âNo.â
âNo?â
âThe keys are in my coat.â
âThe fuck kind of agent are you? Hotwire the car.â
âSmart, when I canât feel my hands,â he says, and shoves the duffel into the footwell, tearing open a passport-sized plastic package with his teeth and turning towards you on the seat. âCome here.â
He shakes out the mylar safety blanket and you realize exactly whatâs going to have to happen, here. Itâs a thought youâve had triaged as a last-resort solution while stripping semi-nude in the backseat of his car; now it turns out itâs your only solution. Heâs scooting to lay down across the backseat and youâre going to have to get on top of him. Heâs scooting to lay down across the backseat in nothing but wet cotton boxer briefs and youâre going to have to get on top of him in nothing but a wet bra and panties, and then heâs going to close you both in under the mylar blanket to trap heat like youâre a fucking turkey in a roasting pan.
Fuck.
You clench your jaw against your chattering teeth and donât let yourself hesitate. Thereâs no can or canât here â youâre both freezing, this is life or death. So you climb up over him in the limited space available, helping to pull the mylar blanket around you and tuck it in under your shins, under his head and shoulders, sealing you together into a lumpy, creased foil bubble.
Itâs not pitch black like you'd hoped. The mylar filters the grey daylight into a dim, intimate dusk. You can still see Leonâs face clearly, on your hands and knees above him; you could count his eyelashes if you could bear to look him in the eyes. You keep your head down and focus on the uncontrollable chatter of your teeth, the way your whole body is shivering unpleasantly, and not the way his knees are framing your hips. Heâs too tall for the backseat.
Your disloyal stomach flutters when you feel his hand brush your darkened side.
âHow are your ribs?â He presses his thumb carefully against the darkest patch, low on your ribcage, where your elbow impacted. You hiss and jerk away.
âTenderized, Leon. Ow."
âHow bad?â
âI donât⊠think anythingâs broken.â
âDeep breath in.â
You oblige, slow and careful, your ribs expanding over your lungs. It stings horribly, your skin feels too tight, but nothing stabs you. His hand rides the motion of your ribs, feeling for telltale hitches or jerks. Itâs nothing but clinical.
âAlright,â he says, quiet. He eases his touch but doesnât drop it away. Youâre staring at your hand in the crumpled landscape of the mylar blanket over Leonâs shoulder, because everything else is his naked skin.
His hand moves from your side to your arm, fingers close to the bend in your elbow like he means to fold it.
âYou gotta get down on me."
You want to laugh but your side only lets you make a pained huff through your chattering teeth.
"Nice one, icebrain. Lemme loop HR in real quick."
âThe air pocket only works if one of us is warm,â he says, steamrolling the comment. And heâs right.
Fuck.
"I don't know where you think my knees are going."
You have to play some strange and painful backseat Twister, the foil blanket complicating shit by clinging to your damp skin and hair, but then youâve puzzled yourselves together so you can drop onto him with a put-upon huff.
He hisses and pushes you back up by the shoulders.
âFuck, how much water is in that thing?â
You both look down at your high-impact bra. Squeezed between the two of you, it's now weeping drops of frigid water down your stomach. It's also left an imprint across Leon's chest, wet enough to bead up and roll towards his armpits.
âYou canât be wearing that.â
âLeonââ
"No, this isn't an argument. That's over your heart."
Yes, but. It's also over your breasts. Preventing them from being all over Leon. All over Leon's naked skin.
"Do you trust me?"
You don't even hesitate, because that's the easy question.
"Yes."
It's a zip-front bra. His fingers touch the zipper.
"Okay?" His gaze is holding yours, strong, a promise to keep his eyes up.
Itâs taking all your energy to appear calm and unaffected right now.
âYeah. Fine."
Itâs a relief, actually, the compression easing as he pulls the zipper down, releasing entirely when the sides come apart. Itâs easier to breathe. He pushes the straps from your shoulders, brushes them down your arms until you can drop the soaked bra into the footwell, tucking the foil blanket back in place. His chest, still cold, feels warm against your freezing breasts.
He rubs the damp, freezing skin of your back, paying special attention to the deep impressions left by the bra seams like he can smooth them out, putty under his fingers.
âDo you know you're doing that.â
He stops. You shift, shoulderblades rolling under his hands.
âI didn't tell you to stop,â you say.
âYes ma'am.â
Your head is turned away from his, because otherwise your nose would be right against his cheek. You have to maintain at least one boundary in the smoking ruin of all the others. He keeps stroking your back; the gentle flats of his palms, the firm pads of his fingers. Youâre starting to feel like putty.
Your eyelids are heavy.
âIs it bad to fall asleep?â
He pinches you hard and you jolt away from it, knocking against the seatback. Your injured side flares with pain.
âFuck! You ass,â you gasp, poking him hard between the ribs. He jerks under you, cursing, and you brace for retaliation, but heâs gone still.
And you register why.
His face is right under yours, noses almost touching. Youâre sharing breath.
And something else is different.
ââŠWhere are your hands?â
You know where they are. He moves them from your hips up to your back again.
âGood boy.â
You donât know what fucking possessed you. It sounded like a joke in your head, but released into the narrow space between your faces itâs far more charged than that, because of course it is. Youâre hearing it now, where itâs too late to take it back. You still have a brain like a frozen chicken cutlet, fucking cold and smooth, he has to understandâ
Heâs breathing out hot against your mouth, pushing his hands down to the small of your back, pressing your body tighter against his, and it ignites something sharp and fervid in your belly.
âShit,â you whisper, and kiss him.
He meets it. He kisses you back like heâs just been waiting, gathering the damp hair at your nape with one hand, blunt nails scraping the skin of your neck. His other hand goes lower, the heel of his palm digging in, fingers gripping your ass. You gasp and roll your hips, body lighting up.
âFuck,â he says into your mouth. âCareful with your side.â
âYou be careful with my side.â
âDamn.â
âShut up.â You fist his hair and pull his head back, kissing the taut line of his neck under his ear, scraping your teeth against the skin. Heâs got both hands on your ass now, sliding his fingers under the sides of your panties to gather the fabric into a thong, palming the cool skin of your bared cheeks. You hum, rolling your hips again.
âYouâve got a fixation.â
âYeah,â he agrees, unashamed. He smooths his hands down your thighs where theyâre framing his sides, his fingertips digging in. Youâre sitting on his pelvis, grinding on nothing but the flat of his low abdomen, his thighs closed behind your ass, his knees pressed to the car door. You kiss his mouth, open and loose, and speak against it.
âDonât take this the wrong way, but are you that cold?â
âDonât be rude.â
You stop moving, pushing up to stare down at him. âAre you serious?â
âNo.â He opens his legs, shifting his hips, and you gasp when you feel him against your ass. You shift back, rubbing yourself against the hardening length of his dick, the lake-wet fabric of your underwear dragging together, no longer cold and clammy where youâre touching. His breath tumbles hot from his open mouth, hips rolling to meet you.
âFuck, Leon.â If this is him with shrinkage, how the hell has he been packing all that into skinny jeans all these years?
Heâs watching you, his eyes half-lidded, hands on your naked waist. You sit up more, tipping your head back, running your hands along his forearms as you drag your wet pussy along the firm heat of his cock.
âYouâre fucking gorgeous,â he tells you, molten. You groan, arching.
âJesus. Keep talking like that.â
âYeah?â He tugs you by the arms to bring you lower, kissing your neck with an open mouth, his scruff lightly scratching your skin and making you shiver. His hands find your breasts, thumbs circling your nipples, and your breath hitches. âFuck, Iâve wanted to touch you like this.â
You laugh, just a teasing exhale against his lips. âWhat, cold and injured?â
Heâs pulling the fabric of your panties to one side, holding it there, out of the way. You moan when he rubs his fingers through your drenched folds, slow.
âNaked and wet,â he growls, teeth grazing your shoulder. You whimper and thread your fingers into his hair, gripping, gasping when he circles your clit. Your hips jerk erratically; heâs mouthing kisses up the side of your neck, nipping lightly, then speaking against your skin, his voice subterranean.
âWhat do you want?â
Holy shit. You donât remember what it feels like to be cold, anymore. Your bodyâs on fire. Youâve maybe never been this turned on in your life, and all this after a fucking ice bath.
âTake yourself out," you tell him. "I wanna feel you.â
The first drag of your wet cunt along the satin heat of his naked cock has him groaning, his hips rocking helplessly. You glide on him like that, wetting his dick, feeling it jump and throb between your pussy lips. You prop yourself up on his shoulders, pressing him down into the seat, grinding your clit firm against the head of his cock with little gyrations of your hips. Heâs gripping your waist, mouth open, just watching you.
âIâve never seen you so speechless,â you tell him.
âIâve â shit â never seen you riding me.â
âMm. Lucky day.â
âI know.â
âAny last words?â
âWhat?â
You cant your hips back, reaching down to guide the glistening head of Leonâs cock to your entrance. His fingers tighten on your sides, breathing in sharp.
âBe careful,â he says.
âYouâre sweet,â you tell him, bearing down with little adjustments, caging his dick in place with your fingers. The tip of him presses into your tight wet heat and Leon gasps, head thumping back against the seat. You stare at the display of his body below you; the taut stretch of his neck, the flush of his chest, the tight muscles of his stomach as he works to keep his hips still, letting you control this. You take him into you in increments, the burning stretch of him blurring into white-hot pleasure, the length of him making your thighs shake before youâre finally fully seated, the throbbing heat of him bottomed out inside of you, filling you deep. You drop forward, hands on his shoulders, panting.
âAre you okay?â
You manage a nod. âGod, Leon.â
He moves his hips, just a small adjustment, experimental. You gasp, lifting to half-mast him, sliding back down. Heâs so thick.
Your thighs are shaking too much and you donât exactly have the room to adjust. You lean down, desperate.
âFuck me.â
He doesnât need telling twice. He grips your ass, pushing you down into every thrust of his hips, long and slow at first so you can feel every inch, grinding tight against you when he bottoms out. He uses your breath by his ear as a barometer, picking up the pace, the wet glide turning into a wet slap, and turns his head to catch your moans in his mouth.
âThink you can come like this?â
âLimited menu of options, garçon,â you pant. Thereâs no fucking space back here.
âTip your hips down,â he says.
You do; he slams in deep, grinding, putting delicious pressure on your clit. You cry out.
âFuck, like that Leon!â
He pulls your earlobe into his mouth, sucking lightly, resuming the faster slap of his hips.
âYes, maâam,â he says, filthy, and jesus christ, he is going to get an orgasm out of you. Almost just did.
âShit,â you gasp. âAre you close?â
âDo you want me to be?â
You clench around him and he groans, hips stuttering.
âFuck. I am if you do that,â he gasps. You do it again and he buries deep to grind on you, like heâs warring you, fighting to set you off first.
âFuck, Iâm close, Iâm close,â you whimper, bouncing on him, stalling for time. Heâs got you right on the edge and you donât wanna go over yet. âWith me. Come with me.â
He curses, fucking into you hard and fast, thrusts starting to go erratic. You keep a litany of babble going in his ear, obscene, feeling him catching up, drawing tight; and then heâs bottoming out hard against you, groaning brokenly as he pulses deep inside of you, your walls convulsing as the final slap of his hips sends you tumbling over the edge with him.
When you come back down to earth, the foil blanket is askew, his leg sticking out in the passengerâs side footwell, your forearm dangling in the driverâs side footwell. Youâre lying bonelessly on top of Leon, riding the heaving of his chest as you both catch your breath. He pulls the mylar down to the middle of your back and the cold air raises new goosebumps on your flushed skin.
"I think that did the trick,â he says.
You hum, your eyes closed, face pressed to the side of Leonâs neck. He runs his thumb lightly along the dewy column of your spine.
âHowâs your side?â
âStings.â
Heâs still inside you, starting to slip free as he softens. He gently pulls out and your forehead creases, a grumpy noise escaping you.
âHey,â he says, soft. You donât lift your head, it feels like too much effort. He shifts under you and you grumble your displeasure, but heâs just resettling you so youâre not leaning your bruised side so heavily against the seatback. He cards his fingers through your hair, pulling it back from your sweaty temple.
âIâm going to sleep,â you murmur. âTry to pinch me again and see what happens.â
He laughs, just a short rumble low in his chest.
âWorked out fine the first time.â
You smile, eyes closed, and tuck your arm in under his body.
âBeginnerâs luck.â
Thereâs a lot of shit to do. Thereâs kit to grab from the beach, samples to take from the hydra, clothes to dry, reports to fill out, bruises to heal, complex developments to talk through with your partner.
But right now, thereâs just Leonâs heartbeat and steady breathing beneath you, his fingers combing lazily through your hair, and youâre pretty sure itâs all gonna work out okay.
On AO3
Guys quick tip donât take survival advice from a gratuitous x reader they probably died lmao
Thanks for reading! Let me know if you'd like to be added to the taglist when I post these fics đ
you find your boyfriend all worked up in the middle of the night, and feel the need to help him àŒŻ
zanka x gn!reader - MDNI (ZANKA AGED UP TO 20+)
cw - smut, pillow humping, handjob, cumplay (-ish? idfk donât quote me on that), thigh riding
you and zanka usually sleep in the same room, his room. so you did find it a little strange that tonight he asked you to sleep in your own room. you agree, and chalk it up to him not getting good sleep lately from you clinging to him at night.
but thatâs not totally the truth.
because he most definitely wasnât asleep judging by the noises you could hear.
in the middle of the night, you wanted a glass of water. but to get to the kitchen, you have to pass his room. and an innocent peek wonât hurt, right?
well, it wouldnât on a normal night. but as you peer through the cracked door, this didnât look like a normal night.
messy blonde strands fell over his eyes, and sweat glistened on his forehead. quiet, strained pants fell from his lips as he rutted into a pillow. you press your legs together, gripping the doorway, not realizing how long youâd been staring for.
but the moment he let out a choked-out groan? you gasped, and his head snapped up. fuck.
he felt his face grow hot and he just kinda stared at you, jaw slack. you stared back. and the first thing you think to say?
âneed any help..?â
zanka swallowed dryly, and nodded once. and two minutes later? door shut and locked, both of your shirts discarded somewhere on the floor.
you hastily shove his briefs down, muttering against his lips,
âiâll show you âm better than some fuckinâ pillowâŠâ
âyeahâŠyeah, okay,â
he panted, staring down at where your fingers wrapped around him. he felt his thighs tense and he instinctively bucked his hips up into your palm, a shaky exhale escaping him.
âyeah? right there?â
you whisper, lips curling up into a devilish smirk as you thumb over his sensitive slit. your eyes flick up to his navy ones and god, youâve never seen something so perfect. his eyes are half lidded, sweat beading down his temple, shallow huffs of breath in time with your slow, steady strokes. and all he can manage is a little whimper of a response and a jerky nod.
after two or three minutes, his thrusts start to get erratic, and he has a white-knuckle grip on the sheets. you decide to add to it, grinding down on his thigh, trying to give yourself some relief. his abs tensed and he had to bite into your shoulder to stifle his moans, which only made you pump faster. his eyes screwed shut and his hips jerked up again. once. twice. before he spilled all over your hand and his stomach with a trembling whine.
without a second thought, you ducked down, and started licking. his breath hitched as he watched you lap up every drop, from his abs down to the base of his cock. you bat your eyelashes up at him as you lick him clean, and he swears his soul left his body. but at least heâd die a happy man.
a/n : AH. THIS WAS FUN ASF TO WRITE SND I STARTED AND FINISHED IT IN A DAY (THANKS TO LANDON!!!)
oh my god we couldnât stop laughing SO FUCKING HARD at this photo @chososfucktoy
it was natural phenomenon, a puppet crafted from a branch of irminsul by the hands of the very electro archon herself, was bound to be flawless, composed of features revered by myth and legend.
but skin that remained pale and unfazed by the sun, or weight immune to fluctuation, were things that lacked any sort of humanity. they were unnatural, unrealistic, and characteristics no human should strive for.
dolls hardly resemble people, they were simply canvases to craft perfection instead of beauty. wanderer was completed, not born.
he knows very well of his artificial nature. he knows he cannot alter it, nor did he dwell too much on what he couldn't change. however, being called "pretty", was a jarring reminder of his inherent difference, and the absense of a heart.
so, whenever someone called him complimented his face, he didn't feel too much. he'd simply brush it off, before grunting and moving on with his day, books clutched tightly.
humans concerned themselves with 'beauty', dedicating hours of effort and an eternity of stress to pursue something that lacked a true form. it was something far too precious to subject to a singular, objective form, unlike the principles of mathematics and science. whatever 'standard' of it that existed was simply consequence of certain people being too vocal about their preferences.
wanderer had heard of dehya's complaints of her wide shoulders and muscular build, yet he couldn't comprehend why one should feel ashamed of such strength. layla kept her face down, excusing it with her dark circles, when wanderer thought they were rather pleasant, even though he hardly noticed their presence. he's overheard teenagers groan about acne and pimples, but all he saw was growth and metamorphosis, a bittersweet farewell to childhood. he wondered how proud their parents must've been.
humans are a bit dense sometimes, he thinks. and oblivious to how beautiful they can be, with a tendency to believe otherwise.
"stop saying that."
"what, that you're pretty?" you commented, poking him in the shoulder. "but you are pretty."
and for some reason, you were well aware of his inhuman nature, yet showered him with praise.
the house of daena was, for the first time in a while, empty, with the exception of you two. all that glowed were the desk lamps, and the midnight wind occasionally ventured inside through its large windows.
wanderer was skimming through his required readings, you were annoying wanderer.
"you do realise nothing about me is natural." he muttered. "that includes how i look."
you do not find him beautiful, or anything of the sort, you thought of his creator as talented. you were enamoured by the raiden shogun's craftsmanship, not wanderer himself.
you shrugged. "fake flowers aren't real. they're still pretty."
he grunted, continuing to read his book. fake flowers were also loveable.
"and." you slouched, inching closer to him while resting your head on a stack of books. "it's not just your face, y'know. bold of you to think you're handsome."
to that, wanderer snickered, before swallowing it down and turning a page.
"you're pretty because you're kind."
he disagreed, he knew otherwise. he kept reading his book, the ink words barely registering to him.
anyone who'd even heard of the balladeer and his violent ways would disagree easily.
"and you're my favourite." you added, slowly tapping a nail against mahogany. "my favourite person."
wanderer's breath hitched, and then he swallowed.
"like you finished the rest of my essay that one time. even though it was my fault i was falling behind."
he scoffed. that was because you were struggling to adapt to the akademiya and its overbearing walls. wanderer felt the same too.
"and you're a really good listener. i can tell you anything."
wanderer rolled his eyes this time. listening was hardly anything, he thought. everyone had their own life, a tale unique to them. if anything, for someone to open up is a blessing, a sign of trust and comfort.
"oh, and cats! you always pet cats."
of course he did. he adored all wildlife. cats just happened to be his favourite.
"i don't get what point you're trying to make."
you shrugged. "you're more human than you think. far more than most scholars of the akademiya. and people in general. you can yap about being a puppet all you want, but you have a heart."
finally, wanderer peeled himself from his book; he wasn't exactly paying attention to it anyways. disagreement danced at the tip of his tongue, but he refrained.
maybe it was how you glowed despite the absence of light, or the softness of your voice floating through the air. maybe it was because you said everything he wanted to hear.
but if you thought of him as human, then he must be one, regardless of his nature.
his cheeks screamed red. "you're talking so much today, what do you want?"
and lucky for him, you didn't think to stop and tease him. "you. i want you." you stood up, snatching his book, and he let you. "do you even sleep? take a break."
wanderer sighed, taking your hand. "fine, if you insist."
so through the house of daena you pulled him, promising to buy him all the snacks he wanted for working so hard. you reprimanded him for not sleeping and taking breaks, wanderer simply promised to do so from then on.
đ thinking about re9!Leon Kennedy threatening to shave his happy trail 18+ Iâm insane about him oml
Heâs standing at the foot of your queen-sized bed in a pair of boxers, having just gotten out of the shower. âI think I might need to shave this off soon, baby.â Your head instantly snaps up at his direction, dropping the book you were reading onto the mattress beside you.
You watch in silent horror as he runs his hand over the dark hairs that dust across his chest and down towards that delicious happy trail of his, his brows all pinched together in contemplation, even the thought of him considering it sent you into panic.
âAbsolutely not. No,â you tell him, shaking your head in vehement protest as you shuffle to the end of the bed on your knees.
His eyes catch yours, and his frown softens into a grin. âLook at it, baby, itâs getting out of control down here.â He huffs in amusement, fingers still grazing over the coarse hairs, heart melting a little at the way your lips purse out into a frowny pout.
âItâs sexy, Leon.â You tell him, brushing his hands away from the sacred trail with a huff. âYouâre not allowed to just shave it all off.â your fingers now toy with the waistband of his boxers.
He chuckles, cupping your cheeks between his big palms and tilting your head back. âNot allowed? What you gonna stop me?â
âNo⊠but if you shave it off I-I-â you pause, wracking your sleepy brain for a suitable punishment, âI wonât have sex with you until it grows back.â
âOh, fighting talk, huh? You wouldnât last a week, babe.â He replies smugly, knowing for a fact that heâs not wrong. You barely survive when he gets pulled away by his ever-demanding job, always relying on those special homemade videos you both made.
You groan in frustration, and he coos down at you, running the pad of his thumb over your pouty lips to try and coax you to smileâ but it doesnât work, you seem genuinely heartbroken, and he would be lying if he said it didnât amuse him just a little.
âCâmon⊠donât look at me like that, baby, it needs taming.â
You donât answer, but your expression turns determined. You lean forward, looking up at him through your lashes as you press a wet kiss right over the hard ridge of his abs. His fingers slip into your hair, tightening a little at the roots, your name catching in his chest as you drag your tongue back up his firm stomach.
âOh Fuck-â his voice comes out hoarse, ragged.
âPromise me you wonât get rid of it.â You tell him, dragging sloppy, open-mouthed kisses down to his V-line, and when he doesnât answer right away, you pull back, scowling at him. âPromise me, Leon.â
âYeah, yeah, I promise⊠Iâll keep it, sâall yours gorgeous.â He breathes out heavily from above you, dick already hard and twitching to life against the thin fabric of his boxers.
âGood.â You beam up him happily, tugging the waistband of his boxers down a little further with a lick of your lips.
àȘâ⎠Resident Evil Masterlist àȘâ⎠General Masterlist
AN: is this a safe space to say I love big hairy men and women?
alhaitham x reader
†synopsis: you, and your vanity, and your affinity for pretty things... beauty has always been meant for admiration, so where else should he direct you, but to the fairest one of all?
â€Â cw: fem!reader, established relationship, mirror sex, fingering, praise, rough + unprotected sex, size kink, creampie, a lil bit of dom!haitham, overstimulation, cervix kisses, multiple orgasms, squirting, subspace, vry sweet heâs actually so in love â mdni || ê° 5.1k wc ê±
â€Â notes: mirrors in his playable kit -> mirror in the bedroom... repost from my old blog; this was originally an extra from an old series, but Iâve changed some of the wording so that it can stand as its own fic
You, and your vanity, and your affinity for pretty things...
Where Alhaitham lacks in idle conversations, he makes up for in his acute observation; taking note in particular of the way you glance at your reflectionânot only in the mirrors of a merchantâs passing display, but at every turn, and every corner. In the stained glass windows of the Akademiya, in the bronze vessels decorating Lambadâs second floorâŠeven now, on your excursion through the Grand Bazaar, he catches the quick flit of your head as you peer at yourself in the fountain beneath Zubayr Theater.
Not that heâd ever fault a star for its beauty, when even the sweltering Sumeru sun is roped into your orbitâbending to your will as it dazzles behind you, like a halo in your backdrop. Perhaps the world is, but a shellâŠand a pearl such as yourselfâbeautiful and rareâought to shine on a more veracious display. A familiar smirk plays on his lips, painting his handsome face in a devious shade of sly.
Itâs clear from just your peripherals that he must be devising something terrible⊠Yet thereâs a dance to your step when you stop him in his path; your hands clasped coyly behind your back, as you dip into his vicinity with your feigned innocence.
âAnd just what are you smiling for?â you lilt, shifting your weight forward onto your tiptoes. He leans over to honor what he can only surmise to be a wordless request, but you pull away before his lips ever have the chance to meet yours. You gleam in that coquettish smile of yoursâone that sits so perfectly atop your playful flirtations.âThinking about me?â
Alhaitham clears his throat, crossing his arms with a raised brow, despite the remaining wisp still tugging at the corner of his lip. âAm I not allowed to smile?â
By now, he can accurately read your tells and predict your actions: pursed lips and shifting eyesâŠall in a poor attempt to hide your grin as you quip back with something smart, or flirtatious, or on certain days, shamelessâany of which might send a lesser man into a fluster. Not that he fares particularly better when it comes to youâŠ
So he cuts you off while heâs still ahead, his strong arm easily pulling you back into his sphere, and with a tilt of his head, gestures at the fountain, letting curiosity guide you as it casts your reflection onto the watersâ surface once again.
âJust thinking about how pretty you areâŠâ
And pretty you are indeed when he sits you between his legs, your bare back arching away from his chest as he curls his fingers in your cunt, hitting exactly where he knows youâd keen. His free hand kneads at the meat of your inner thigh, parting your legs wider in the process, your pussy lips following suit, blooming with the sticky sound of your wetness.Â
Alhaitham huffs, impressed, as he glances into the mirror standing steadfast before you both. Large and unwavering, itâs resolute in its honorable pursuit to uncover the truthâthe one with your cunt propped open and your head thrown into the curvature of his neck. The one youâre clearly not yet privy to, if your eyes are squeezed shut in the midst of all your pleasure. Itâs a shame, really. For although heâs never had the ambition to conquer the unknown verities, if such beauty were the splendor of all the worldâs truths, then heâd gladly partake down this endless roadâas a scholar or as a madman. After all, who better to perfect his limited human perspective, than the fairest one of all?Â
Tilting his head, he kisses his way up the column of your neck, feeling you curl into him as he paints intermittent bruises on your supple skin, stopping only when he reaches beneath your ear so that his teeth may tug lightly on its lobe.Â
âI know how you love to admire your own reflectionâŠâ His voice gravels in your ear, the rich baritone sending a shiver whose reach extends all the way down to your core. âSo donât you want to see how pretty you look?âÂ
âNo. Thatâsââ Whining, you continue to shake your head at the very prospect, ignoring the clear disconnect as you tighten and clench around the fingers still holed up inside of you. ââs embarrassingâŠâ
He hums from deep in his chest; thoughtfully amused at how such words could leave your mouth, when your cunt gushes as unabashedly as if she were attempting to lure his fingers further with a squelching song of her own. But thereâs nothing to tempt, when thereâs no iron will to break, for your bodies move like the moon and the tide: ebbing and flowing, ever connected, fates intertwined. Where his thumb spreads to draw harsh circles, your breath shallows in response, crying out at the sudden aggressive waves of pleasure that surge at your clit. Your nails dig into the sheets, hips lifting and squirming to no avail, as he continues to barrage you from the inside out.Â
âHaithamâŠâ you breathe, and he knows youâre close from how you moan through sealed lips, brows furrowed and teeth clenched, until the disappointing realization that heâs pulled out. Your doe eyes flutter open, perplexed and brimming with spoiled petulance at his amused brow and little smirk, whilst at the same time, your lips part with all the intention of asking your lover âwhyyyy?â, if only for the fact that heâs simplyâŠfaster.Â
Slick-coated fingers grasp onto your chin, slowly tilting your head downâaway from that safe corner by his neckâso that youâd come meet him in the mirror, with all your vanity in tow. He holds your gaze, never turning away, not even as his head dips again so that his lips are level when he whispers low and sultry into your ear.
âIf you look away, Iâll stop.âÂ
âŠAnd so you watch as Alhaitham turns his attention back between your legs, spreading open your folds until theyâre well smeared with your free-flowing slick. And you watch as two lithe fingers penetrate past your slit, steadily pumping slow, smooth strokes, before splintering apart to stretch you open in preparation for the third prodding at your entrance, eager to join the fray.
âThatâs it,â he coos, though his low voice does absolutely nothing to soothe how you squirm against him at theâŠdiscomfort? The fervor? Perhaps even the discomfort of such fervor, as itâs become nigh difficult to tell, when his free hand has migrated to fondle with one of your breasts, roughly kneading the mound to double your sensations. âLook at youâŠâÂ
Yet what is there to look at but the lascivious combination of your shame and desire? Both wrestle for a place in your reflection, battling to outweigh the other upon your visageâŠbut itâs hardly a fair fight when shame has never been your forteâespecially not when you squeeze around him so tightly, almost as if in resistance to how heâs scissoring you open.
Itâs almost mesmerizing how your body reacts so eagerly: how your mouth falls open in a gasp and then a squeal, as your gummy walls concede to stretch by way of his provocation. Or that slight hitch in your breath, chest stuttering as you inhale the familiar stretch of three digits sinking into your cunt whilst you sink ever deeper into the watery depths of such hedonistic volitions.
Still, Alhaitham so greedily grasps at every open inch of you, ravishing your body with almost everything at his disposal. His chiseled frame looming behind you as he holds you open and bare, his grip the jaws of lust incarnate; his heavy breath crowding on your skin like a heated apparition of his own dire need to fuck and please and share in the admiration of just how beautiful he thinks you areâuntil like fine mist, it disperses across your mind, and the shame melts off your bones, replaced with only the desire for more, for him, for more of him.
âHaithamâŠâ you mewl again, brows furrowing in an earnest attempt to keep your eyes open in spite of the rush, because god forbid he stopâŠÂ
But itâs tortuous, the way Alhaitham pumps his fingers in and outâslowly, steadilyâso that youâd see in your reflection, just how wet you are, hear every squish that sounds as he repeatedly buries himself three knuckles deep. Your slick coats his skin with a layer of gloss at every re-emergence, wordlessly conveying that it isnât nearly enough to satisfy the burning ache between your legs.
âPlease more⊠âm so closeâŠâ Pleading, you do what you can to muster your sweetest voice, your most honeyed cadence, in the hopes that youâd persuade him to your cause, rolling your hips to embody your words, furthering both his reach and your intent. For all the time youâve spent in the Nation of Wisdom, itâs certainly helped to remember that only praxes can truly validate such words of honesty, and you truly are honest in your intent to cum.
âAs you wish,â he hums, and his breath wraps around the shell of your ear in a warm embrace (though itâs hardly even an ember compared to the heat quickly ebbing in your belly.) The want amplifies by tenfold as he digs the heel of his palm against your clit, forcing another wave of euphoria to course through your form, as he angles his fingers in pursuit of where you feel him most.Â
Every twist, every curl, beckons at sweet release, as the tips of his fingers drag past each velvet inch of your walls at an ungodly pace, drawing out your orgasm with such magnetic fortitude that even your own lucidity seems to fade in the midst of such mental upheaval. It goes, and it goes, and itâs goneâas if the plug had just been pulled from your very beingâand like a doll, your eyes fall shut to the joy of diving back into such revelry.
A sharp slap to your clit jolts you back to reality with a staggered gasp, your thighs nearly snapping shut at the sudden impact, while rootless static fills the emptiness in your stolen pleasure. Your perpetrator, however, only spares you a half-lidded glance whilst he continues to brandish the finishing touches of another hickey along your neck. Â
âKeep looking,â he issues, one part a command, the other, a warning. His grip loosens from your thigh, allowing your legs to fall just the slightest bit slack, before his voice softens and he pries open the lips of your drenched cunt, strumming through your folds so unbearably lazily, as you situate your gaze back into the mirror. âI want you to see everything I do to youâŠâ
âLike how pretty you are when I touch youâŠâ He dips a finger between your pussy lips, unfolding the rippling petals on his way up your slit, carefully paving the way for his place beneath the hood of your clit. âHere,â he drawls, rubbing at the nub so deliberately, that the sudden titillation evokes your instinct to shrink away with a broken, pitched cry; for wherever you squirm, Alhaitham follows, and backed against his chest, thereâs nowhere left to turn, but forward at your reflection in the glass.Â
It's obscene. Youâre obscene. But despite the disconnect with your head, your body still begs for more, and you think itâs almost pathetic how far youâve sunk into his magnetism (though you vaguely recall it was once the other way around) that you hardly recognize the figure before you, soâŠdistorted by the draw of lust. Your chest heaving with every breath that circulates through full, parted lips, your face bleary from carrying the heavy weight of pleasure on your lashes. Yet, the longer you watch, the more you glisten between your legs, clearly seduced by that perfect view of your own body on display.Â
Perhaps there is something provocative about the way your folds are spread, barred open by his fingers while he taps away at your clit. Perhaps there is some coquetry in the way your empty hole drools, some enchantment in how your juices shineâŠeverything to flaunt how you need to cumâhow you need him and anything heâs willing to give.Â
Your eyes begin to glaze, your focus drifting as you continue to stare at how your loverâs reflection so teases the hardened nub, every touch drumming your nerves with pleasure like the beguiling lull of gentle waves. At least your lungs seem to appreciate the monotonous pattern; your heaving chest adjusts to match his rhythm, the faint stimulus now an almost comfortable familiarityâone too easily shattered by the whims of another, as Alhaitham presses firmly into your swollen clit.
Renewed arousal swells in your belly, burning through whatever you thought had previously dissipated, and closing the window on any remnant of self-restraint, as you soon start to squirm with electrified impatience. Once steady breaths devolve into ragged gasps; your spine curves and your hips jolt, all from exposure to Alhaithamâs prolonged stimulation, writhing this way and that, until you inevitably grind against his cock, surprising him with his own throbbing rush of sensation.Â
âDo you see how,â Alhaitham grunts, gritting his teeth as he holds down a groan, âerotic you areâŠâ Even half-dazed, you can feel just how hard his erection stands against the small of your back.
You exhale, waveringly so, as you steady yourself before releasing your grasp on the sheets, clawing weakly at his toned bicep in an effort to garner his attention. Between your misty eyes and sweat-mottled skin, disheveled hair and trembling thighsâŠthereâs a delicate show of tenacity as your reflection holds his gaze, daring to dance with the devil youâve chosen to submit to. âSo show me what I look like when you fuck me.â
âGladly,â he chuckles, and thereâs a wicked glint that shines from beyond the turquoise, accompanied by a dim clang and a quiet rustle, as he frees his cock from its fabric confines.Â
A low growl rumbles from deep in his throat as his hands run a path along the concave of your waist, before scooping you up by the underside of your thighs, and shifting you further in his lapâspread open on wide display, behind the glaring pink of his leaking tip.Â
Alhaitham drags his cock along your slit, gathering slick from your fluttering anticipation, as he tempers the urge to plunge into you right then and there. He swallows the thought, giving way for the honeyed lilt of your name to flow from his lips instead. You turn, looking up at him with that darling half-lidded gaze, and he breathes in the sweet image of your pretty face. Please allow him to have one good look at youâthe real you, in the fleshâbefore he fucks you into oblivion.Â
He presses a chaste kiss to your forehead, murmuring something you donât quite catch. ââAyouni,â he hums, aligning his cock at your entrance. (My love, my eyesâas precious as the gift of sight.) âNour âayouniâŠâ His tip dips past your entrance, wallowing in the tight fit, before finally pushing into your quivering insidesâa resolute promise to fill both your desires, and your cunt as deep as youâd take him. (Light of my eyes, anything for you.)
Large hands secure themselves onto your hips, easily crowding you in until your knees are folded before your tits and your back is pressed flush against his chest. Every bead of sweat stitches your bodies together, skin on damp skin, though only you are locked on full, shameless display; your body and limbs tethered to invisible strings in his handsâa doll to maneuver and fold as he pleases.
A pitched sob breaks the thickness in the air, followed by a few hushed whimpers and stifled moans, as you watch yourself take him, inch by overwhelming inch. Itâs never truly occurred to you how big he really isâat least not until now, when youâre confronted before your very eyes with just how much your little hole must work to accommodate his size. That initial stretch when he first pushes past your folds, and how it grows wider little by little as he forges on⊠(itâs no wonder you always feel so delectably full.) Or how you can clearly see the protruding veins disappear as he glides deeper (is that how heâs always able to touch upon every crook and corner?)
The sight alone has you pulsing: your greedy cunt quite literally drooling at the prospect of swallowing him down to the base, churning out more slick to ease his descent, and melting any discomfort into delight. As his bonafide lover, itâs one thing to be fucked beyond belief, but to see yourself completely surrendered to your lecherous desires, and entirely pliable at his behestâŠ? What a terrifying way to solicit your pleasure.
Still, youâve no choice but to sputter out a moan as your walls constrict around his shaft, drawing out a grunt from Alhaitham with how titillating it feels when you cling to him like this. His rasp reverberates on the shell of your ear, travelling down your spine like lust-tainted fire to pass the message down between your thighs. And although dew threatens to blur your vision, from what you can see in the mirror, itâs clear that heâs yet to bottom out. Even worse, is that you can feel the emptinessâyour insides so cravenly wanting what is amissâbecause itâs just so inherently wrong that you arenât full enough, that he isnât deep enough.
An urgent hand flies to tangle your fingers in his hair, as you turn to pull him into a wanton kiss, your lips just as greedy as your hips that grind on his cock for more. âWant you,â you murmur between tongue and teeth, exchanging breaths as desperation and uncertainty clash in your throat, and crack like lightning in your voice. âAll of you, all the wayâŠpleaseâŠ?â
âArenât you, ngh,â he pauses, failing to swallow down his grunt, as disbelief rolls in with another tide of arousal that pulses in his cock. His attempt to taunt, ruined by his inability to resist any longer. âArenât you shameless today?âÂ
âDonât care.â Though slurred, the words still tumble out of your mouth with a sense of urgency, your fingers curling against him, grasping onto the hope that heâd finally fill you. âJust n-need you.â In such a deliriated state, itâs difficult to tell whether you had imagined the way his breath rings through the hollows of your bonesâthe resounding echoes of a small, yet exasperated laugh reverberating through the very core of your beingâŠbut it was real, and his presence was there, and how could he ever say no when youâre asking for his cock so nicely? Per your request, of course heâll drop you lower onto his shaft.Â
Alhaitham groans, powerless against the way you whine, tightening around him as he advances further and further, until he bottoms out with a guttural âfuck.â Heâs never had you in such a position, but with you atop his lap and gravity as his prerogative, itâs suffice to say heâs reached...Â
âToo..d-deepâŠâ you babble, eyes rolling back as your words disperse into the same nothingness thatâs engulfed your thoughts.Â
A soft tut tut clicks from his tongue, followed by a light roll from his hipsâŠand suddenly your string of whimpers break into a shrill gasp as his eager tip kisses the entrance to your womb. Alhaitham is, after all, a man of his word, though this time, he lets his actions speak in his stead. (Where did I tell you to look, habibti?)
Thereâs little time to process any of his wordless cuesâespecially not when his stuttered breath is hot against your neck, the warmth just beginning to melt away the jarring discomfort of being penetrated so deeply, before equally warm fingers squish your cheeks to turn your attention back to the mirror in question. âLike what you see?â he whispers, and your dew-laden eyes flutter open to the sight of you and him: thighs spread, legs tangled, your hips on his, as you sit impaled on the entirety of his length.Â
All you can muster is a whimper and a nod, because what else can you do when youâre so overcome by the feeling of AlhaithamâŠeverywhere? On your tongue where you can still taste his kiss, in your veins where his love circulates to your heart, and most obvious of all, in your cunt where his leaking precum swirls with your slick.
âShow me where you feel me,â he rasps, gingerly plucking your hand away from that wrinkled patch of sheets you so desperately latch on to. His touch is sticky on the back of your handâno doubt the remnants of your juices still clinging stubbornly to his fingers, like a souvenir collected from his last venture between your legsâbut he serves well as a guide: directing you along your abdomen, letting just the very tips of your fingers, ghost across your sensitive skin.Â
âThisâŠâ Starting at the apex of your thighs, he helps you along the path up your lower waist. â... is how far I am inside youâŠâÂ
You canât help but wonder if it were even possible to be buried so deep within someone, but curiosity gets the better of you, and your hand begins to move on its own, absentmindedly glossing over where you feel his tip so deep, it almost seemsâŠtaboo. Not that you really care for the ins and outs of such moral standards, especially when it feels so right to be stuffed so full. Or perhaps your eyes are simply playing tricks on youâdirty work done by the fog thatâs settled in your head with the sole intent of altering your cognition.Â
âDonât believe me?â Hand in hand, he presses gently down onto your belly, where even the slightest bit of pressure is enough to make you jolt. But from the way he struggles to catch his breath, to the violent throbs bursting all along his length, Alhaitham too, suffers from the repercussions of his boldfaced provocationâtoo human to act as if heâd been left unscathed.
For even as you cry in little songs of pleasure, your walls almost seem to be spinning a trance of its own: clenching and unclenching, the pulsating rhythm urging him to move⊠Which he obliges to of courseâadjusting ever so slightly, until heâs perfectly angled and prodding at the divot that absolutely ruins whateverâs left of you, as youâre made to feel everything all at once. Every long, languid stroke comes as an electric current, reinvigorating dead limbs as the muscles come twitching back to life, conducting more and more arousal with every rough drag of his cock. Euphoria surges and sparks fly, overloading the wires in your head, with each thrust into the very spot that unravels you so.Â
âKeep singing for me,â he murmurs, content with how the shape of his name breaks into pieces of fragmented whimpers and moans, echoing across the room. Itâs clear his words are largely lost on youâdisplaced by the fresh barrage of wet kisses down your neck, to be absorbed through your skin and used as fuel for your core.Â
âThatâs itâŠâ Alhaitham keeps his eyes locked on your reflection; eager, despite his own fraying disposition, to catch all your reactions. âMy beautiful girlâŠwho alwaysâŠâÂ
His grip tightens around the meat of your thighs, while a dominant hand glides up to the back of your kneeâeffectively lifting your leg higher and spreading you open widerâbefore a quick, rough motion lands him somewhere inexplicably deep.ââŠtakes me so well.âÂ
You keen, nails digging into whatever they can, anything that might still tether you to this reality when every sensation has been ignited into something far too big for you to handle. Your back curves in response, arching away from his chest, but the shift in position only sits you deeper on his cock, and a shrill sob cracks from your throat, as your stomach coils and your teary eyes flutter open to the direct image of your reflection. In the mirrorâs shallow abyss, your looming orgasm stares back as its own depraved monsterâinhabiting your body and tainting your pretty face with lecherous intent, as it urges you to let go.Â
âCome on, let goâŠâ Or perhaps the fiend whispering in your ear is Alhaitham himself. âI promise youâre just as ravishing when you cum,â he croons, speeding up his pace to climb the heights of his determination. âMaybe even more soâŠâ
The sheer intensity of his rough fucking is overwhelming. The extensive depth, the meticulous precision, the impressive girthâtheyâre all things youâve come to expect in the bedroom with your less-than-feeble lover. But to exploit your vanity, whilst simultaneously feeding you with praiseâŠto hold you open with his own hands, to make you a spectator of your own base instinctsâŠÂ
Itâs a dangerous combination. Itâs too much. It has your entire body trembling as the pressure peaksâyour muscles wound taut, and your pussy clenching tight.Â
ââm c-cummingâŠâ you sob, though your quivering voice soon falls flat from the sheer enormity of the orgasm that races to smother you in its fervor, replacing the blood in your veins with liquid bliss, and allowing that to circulate through every inch of your being, until it becomes the only thing you can even bear to breathe.
The name âHaithamâ tangles with your cries, and he loves itâaddicted even, to the sound of you, the sight of youâfinds it near impossible to tear his eyes away from that perfect view of your pretty little cunt, obediently stretched and fully stuffed with every inch of his length. Warmth blooms and engulfs him at his mushroom tip, and Alhaitham bucks by reflex, desperate to chase your waning orgasm with his.
Heâs close too; you can feel it. The familiar (yet delusional) way in which each throb seems to fill you out even more, the relentless increase in speed and force, unapologetically running his veined cock along your sensitive walls, over and over until he drags you back to the edge. His own breath skips and stutters in his lungs, but still he punctuates each word with power and precision, jutting in as deep as youâd allow him to follow. âJust. Like. That.âÂ
And so, when it breaks, it shattersâlike skipping stones across the water, rippling and disruptive as they bound on and on in a path of hedonistic destructionâuntil your vision blanks, and your body convulses, and your mouth falls open in a silent moan. Your release comes in a violent torrent, uncontrollably battering through your body as you drench him in your juices, leaving the remaining splice of your consciousness trembling, spent, and completely surrendered to the pleasure.Â
Somewhere in the white noise, you hear the echo of your name, said with a pleased lilt, as if he wereâŠimpressed? Proud? Maybe even both, for Alhaitham finds himself mesmerized by the undeniable, tangible evidence, that heâs pleasured you this far beyond belief. Itâs surrealâthe only word in any of the languages heâs studied (including yours)âthat could even begin to describe such eroticism. For a moment, he loses track of his movements, lets his hips fall to an irregular rhythm as he fully takes to the reflection in the mirror: colorless, liquid pleasure still dripping from your hole, glistening as it runs down his shaft with every shallow drawâŠonly to be pushed back with a squish and a squelch from the wetness that now finds a rival in the soaked sheets.Â
Without hesitation, he pummels back to reality, thinking only with his cock, as he pounds into you with a newfound ferocity that seems almost inhumaneâŠbut then again, a mermaid like you isnât quite human after all.
âCan you, ngh, hold outâŠa little longerâŠ?â His voice is low and strained, yet still retaining a softness reminiscent of morning mist above the waters, grazing wisps atop your skin. (Just a little longer, I promise.)
ââkayâŠâ The word spills from your mouth, melted and slurred into a weak mewl, too dazed to process much, other than the fact that youâd do anything he asked of you, even at your own expense. Just a little longerâŠ(but ignore the tears that prick of overstimulation.) For him, for Alhaitham, anything for Alhaitham (in spite of how your body screams âtoo much,â as you cream around his cock again, this time faster than all the others had come.)
Any sense of clarity found in your mantra, only serves to prove that perhaps your head truly has been scrambled to nonsense, because the only thing you could even fathom to think of, is the desperate need for him to finish inside you. For him to paint you with a white fire so hot, itâd cleanse away even the smallest remnants of your tortuous embers. The final few thrusts come sloppilyâtoo busy drowning in your deluge to careâwhile the very last stroke nuzzles deep against your womb, as he fills you full of his cum.Â
Two sets of labored breathing resonate around the room, and in the afterglow, Alhaitham sets your frail legs down, knees buckling and knocking into one another, as your feet are finally brought to rest on something solid. (Though mentally, you donât feel any closer to the ground.) Still, the drastic change in position shuffles his cock against your sensitive walls, breathing life to another soft groan that escapes into a silent harmony.Â
âSorry,â he whispers, peppering you with soft kisses wherever his lips can reach. The unyielding grip, once pressed so firmly into your thighs, melts awayâreplaced by gentler hands that work to sooth the tenderness in your flesh. âIâm going to pull out now, okay?â He readies himself to withdraw from your warmth, but you blink your bleary eyes, and the distant stars in your pupils illuminate just a fraction more.Â
Alhaitham studies the âyouâ in the mirror; watches the steady rise and fall of your chest as your breathing evens out, and your red-rimmed gaze drifts down the length of your body. One of your hands absentmindedly wanders, delicately brushing over the dark imprints left upon the skin of your thighs, color-matched to the hickeys blooming along your neck and shouldersâeach one a bruise forged from his passion. And nothing could ever attest more to the throes of passion than the very reflection of your bodies, melded seamlessly together: his cock in your cunt, leaking with shared essence.
âHowâŠbeautifulâŠâÂ
You shake your head in dreamy opposition. âWânna stay like thisâŠforâŠa bit longerâŠâ Your words trail into a content sigh as you rest your head back against that comfortable nook at the juncture of his neck, angling just enough to still catch your reflections in the mirror.
notes2: as always, thank you for reading, reblogs + feedback are very much appreciated âĄ
Itâs been days. No texts, no stupid voice notes of him rambling about his day, no random âyou eat yet?â messages as soon as you got off work like clockwork. This isnât Valko. Your puppy is glued to his phone when it comes to you. So after one too many hours of anxious pacing, you grab the spare key he gave you months ago (âjust in case, sweetheartâ) and storm over to his place.
Your heart is hammering the whole way. Worst case scenarios flash through your head, him passed out, bleeding, hurt over something he didnât tell you about. Youâd take that.
But the second you push the door open, the air hits you like whiplash.
Stuffy. Thick. Heavy with something musky, sweet, and feral that makes your stomach flip. Thatâs when you hear it, muffled, desperate panting, broken groans, the faint creak of a bedframe.
Your brain short circuits. You donât think. Before you have time to mentally catch up, you just move, storming straight to his massive bedroom and shoving the door open.
And holy fuck.
Valko is sprawled across his bed, completely naked, skin glistening with sweat. His ears are fully out, twitching wildly. His tail thumps hard against the sheets. Heâs fisting his cock with frantic, sloppy strokes, thatâs when you notice; itâs huge, thick, flushed dark and leaking all over his abs. His chiseled chest heaves, abs flexing with every desperate roll of his hips. Those thick thighs are trembling. And when your eyes finally drag up to his face⊠his eyes are glazed over, cheeks flushed crimson, and there are actual tears clinging to his lashes.
He looks wrecked
Youâre frozen in the doorway, mouth hanging open unable to look away from the obscene sight. The way his big hand struggles to even wrap fully around himself. The way his hips keep bucking up like he canât stop. The wet, filthy sounds filling the room.
Before you can even process it, his movements stutter to a halt.
Wide, frantic golden eyes snap to yours. His ears shoot straight up. For a second he just stares at you, chest still heaving, cock twitching hard in his grip like it has a mind of its own.
Then something clicks behind that hazy gaze.
ââŠYouâre here,â he rasps, voice wrecked and deeper than youâve ever heard it. A broken groan slips out as something seems to overwhelm him, making his hips jerk involuntarily into his fist again. âFuck- you⊠you shouldnât see me like this-â
ever heard of the tag..."improper use of vision" ? for all my lohen lovers fellas dying under the warm weather recently, take this.
it's warm lately in mondstadt. even at night. so warm you might as well consider refreshing up in natlan.
during this warmth, lohen decided to share a bit of his coldness with you...
lohen's body radiates cryo as his hips slam against yours.
every thrust is deep and rough, making your skins slap and the bed frame groan, the sounds resonating through the favonius quarters.
if one were to walk past the room, they would see soft blueish cryo air escaping from under the door.
"look at that..." his hand reaches around and grabs your hip to anchor you even deeper into the bed, his pelvis thrusting down in the same mouvement. "cold enough ?"
"yes. fuck yeah" you'd groan back if you weren't overwhelmed by the pleasure.
lohen's breath comes in ragged and shaky hitches, panting out frozen air between his teeth like a machine. his wine-red eyes are glowing slightly under the effort, staring down at you, freezing that picture of you in his mind.
you try to look at him through the soft moonlight but your eyes keep rolling back under his assault.
"don't try...." he pants out in a sneer, the effort making his voice shake. "just melt into it...melt into me..."
nothing else mattered.
just him, his cold body against yours and his burning eyes on you.
âgâŠgodâŠâ lohenâs hips speeds up, going in and out relentlessly, his eyes fluttering shut under the pleasure. you hold yourself on the bed sheets to take his assault, moaning out in ecstasy. "take it all....take all of me..." his breath is ice-cold against your ear, his shiny frozen earring rubbing your cheek softly. "please...please please take it all...." his tone is shaky and manic.
lohen doesn't have time to say another thing. you grab his snowy cold hair and take his cold lips to your warm ones in a starving kiss. the knight groans and drools coldly as he melts against the it, his cock throbbing between your warm walls, releasing cold liquid, similar to cryo slime.
his moans and pants quicken as he grabs your hips firmly and raises them with all his strength, ramming himself in like a bunny in heat. âohâŠgodâŠâ finally, in a last agressive thrust, he releases into you, reaching into your deepest parts, sneering out loudly in the high. your nails scratch all the way down his back as you follow him in his high, making his hips shudder against you as he takes the delicious pain.
your eyelids try to blink away the stars. glimpses of him through the moonlight. ice-sweaty, panting, muscles twitching. his cheeks, usually pale, colored in a soft red. his eyes glowing warmly.
such a pure, intoxicating contrast.
his cold hand reaches up for your forehead, brushing away your hair softly. âfeeling colder ?â his tone was meant like a mock. but his eyes couldnât lie.
