Jinnie

She/Her

[jinniee87]

About me ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

Jinnie — She/Her, 06’

What I write: Self-insert x character fanfics, mostly 18+/ NSFW stuff (MDNI)

Feel free to send requests or ask anything ⋆.𐙚 ̊

I just like to write for fun, might post other stuff like art or whatev :3

[jinniee87]

Marlboro Reds and Late Nights

Older Bf x Reader

Your older boyfriend lets you smoke his cigarette when you get curious about it. A mundane summer evening turns more heated than the weather.

Warnings: Use of cigarettes, Reader is 21+, some smut and teasing, NSFW (+18), oral (m receiving), explicit language, this is lowkey freaked out 0_0

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Early July— The summer heat was really starting to kick up again. You were sprawled on the couch in the living room, gazing at the tv as your older boyfriend sat beside you with your legs in his lap. Cigarette smoke lingers in the air as he takes a drag, leaned back against the couch just as lazily as you are. The cool night air did little to relieve the uncomfortable feeling of bare skin against old leather. The smallest movement felt like pulling a large bandaid off your body.

Bored out of your mind, you look up at your boyfriend who had a cigarette between his lips, eyes focused on the glowing tv in front of you both. The two of you had put on a movie earlier, but honestly, looking at him was more entertaining.

“Can I get a drag?” You ask. His eyes dart over to yours with curiosity. You never smoke. The last time you tried, he teased you when you started hacking from inhaling the wrong way.

Still, he extends the cigarette towards you. You sit up with those large, doe-like eyes curiously staring at it.

“You sure?” He mutters, his other hand idly brushing against your leg. You nod in response.

“Mhm.”

Taking the cigarette between your fingers, you hold it close to your lips. Your boyfriend’s eyes stay on yours the whole time, wondering if you’d actually commit. Looking back at him, your lips wrap around the cigarette before slowly inhaling.

“What’s with the sudden curiosity, darlin’?” He tilts his head, eyes flickering to the way your pretty lips look wrapped around the cigarette.

The smoke fills your lungs, and you go light headed for a moment before exhaling. You tilt your head back against the couch, letting the smoke leave your mouth into the air.

“Just… wanted to see how it feels,” you simply answer, and he chuckles under his breath at your response. It makes you turn your head to face him, raising an eyebrow.

“Wanted to see how it feels, hm?” He mutters to himself, shaking his head. “What am I gonna do with ya, sweetheart?”

Your boyfriend flashes a warm smile at you, just observing the way you looked with that cigarette between your fingers. He had to admit— you were handling it a lot better since your first time smoking, and you looked damn good at doing so. His rough fingers slide up your legs, toying with the hem of your shorts. It was a not-so-innocent ploy he always tried with you whenever he got needy.

“You look good doing that. But I’m not letting ya make a habit out of it,” he leans in, gently taking the cigarette from you to take one last drag before snuffing it out.

You look up at him and watch the way he presses the cigarette butt into the ashtray. It’s the one you gifted him on your anniversary— gently worn from the many times he’s smoked. It was amusing and almost sweet to think that he didn’t want you to start smoking because of him.

“But you do it almost every day?” You retort, causing your boyfriend to audibly sigh.

“S’gonna ruin your lungs,” your boyfriend mutters. He starts to wrap an arm around your waist and you find yourself getting pulled into him. It’s not long before he has you in his lap, strong hands perched on your hips like they were in its rightful place.

You want to scoff at his response. He always looked good with a cigarette between his lips; he’d look you up and down as the smoke lingers around you both. He’s done it for years, and he still manages to look this good. Your boyfriend squeezes your hips, admiring the way you looked above him.

“Can’t let a pretty thing like you get hooked on cigarettes.”

He adjust his hips, and you can almost feel his growing bulge beneath you. His hungry eyes scan over your body, then you catch the slight twitch of his eyebrows, just noticing your white lace tank top and dangerously short shorts for the first time tonight.

“Since when did you get these clothes?”

Your boyfriend mutters gruffly as he toys with the hem of your top. The material looks way too thin, evident by the way your nipples are perked up already. He can’t seem to tear his eyes away from the sight of it.

You answer him, watching as his calloused fingers trail down your thigh.

“A while ago.”

He remains silent, eyes raking over your figure like he had just seen you for the first time. Your clothes don’t exactly leave anything to the imagination when he could see the curves of your body as clear as day. The hand on your thigh slides between your legs, his thumb pressing against your core through the shorts. With clenched teeth, you hiss upon feeling a surge of electricity shoot to your lower stomach.

“Felt that, baby?” He sighs, staring into your eyes as he pressed harder, slowly rubbing circles there.

“Mm… mhm,” you nod, wiggling your hips so you could feel him. Your boyfriend lets out a deep growl before grinding up into you.

You lean forward, capturing him in a kiss to stifle the moans that left your lips. He continues to roll his hips against yours and he feels the strain on his jeans get tighter by the second. It’s not long before you break this kiss. You two are panting like you’ve just ran a mile, eyes glossy with need. Then, you start moving.

Your boyfriend’s eyes are on you as you get off the couch and sink to your knees in front of him— he’s in awe. When he realizes what you’re doing, his eyes go dark and spreads his legs open like an invitation. He needs you bad. You take your time teasing him, pressing kisses to his bulge before unzipping his fly at an excruciatingly slow pace. Not that he minded. Your boyfriend relished in the sight of you going down on him, but he was getting impatient every time he saw your swollen lips wrap around his clothed dick.

He helps you take his jeans off, leaving him in just his boxers now stained with his fluids from your own doing. He impatiently reaches down and frees himself from his boxers, a moan escaping his lips.

“Gonna be a good girl for me?” Your boyfriend teases, stroking himself as his eyes were fixed on your rosy lips.

Of course, you nod.

“Fuckin’ say it, baby,” he groans, upper lip twitching with restraint.

You settle between his legs and gaze up at him with those large, needy eyes. He wanted to fill your mouth full with him until you couldn’t speak or breathe properly; the idea of you being absolutely wrecked by him just made him even harder.

“Yes, I’ll be good,” you answer with a shaky breath.

As you took him in your hand, he adjusted his hips towards you. He gave you a hungry look, one that could just devour you whole in one fell swoop if he tried hard enough. You stroke him a few times before leaning in. Your warm tongue presses flat against his cock, lapping timidly around the tip where precum was already leaking out.

He tips his head back against the couch and groans, his fingers securely holding onto tufts of your hair. It’s not enough to hurt, but he makes sure you know it’s there. You continue to move your tongue around before putting your lips around him, warm and wet with saliva. Your head is starting to bob up and down on him— he’s thoroughly enjoying this.

“‘Mmh, yeah, keep going. Just like that, sweetheart,” your boyfriend sighs, his grip on your hair becoming tighter so he could push your head up and down his shaft.

Tears prickle at the corners of your eyes. His length gives your throat a satisfying burn and tightens your airways just enough to make you feel lightheaded. He loved it— the sight of you utterly cock drunk just from sucking him off— you were his to use in any way he wanted. Your moans vibrate against him each time he forced your head down, and it only pushes him closer to his limit.

“Hhn… Gonna cum,” he mutters under his breath. “Gonna cum in that pretty mouth of yours, baby.”

You could feel him tensing up beneath you— it was a sign he was close. His thighs shook, and you could hear him grunting loud as he fucked himself into your mouth like a toy to reach his climax. Suddenly, your boyfriend buries himself deep in your mouth as warm liquid shoots out from him.

“Yeah… swallow that shit,” he mutters with a smirk, smug at the sight of your tear-stricken face and flushed cheeks while you swallowed every last bit of him.

“Good girl.”

He tilts his head to get a better look at you, one of his hands cradling the side of your face while the other wiped away the drool. Almost everything was a mess: your mouth is smeared with so much saliva that it’s dripping from your chin and onto him.

Your hair, mouth, and clothes were in disarray, but right now he looked at you as if you had just hung the stars.

Your boyfriend helps you up and you crawl back onto the couch beside him, head resting on the curve of his shoulder as he lit up another cigarette. The familiar scent of tobacco fills the room again. He takes a few drags before you lift your head to look at him. His eyes meet yours.

“Can I?”

Your gaze flickers to the cigarette between his fingers like a moth drawn to a flame.

“Fine, just for tonight,” your boyfriend grunts. He can never say no to that face of yours, especially after you just blew him. You already knew he’d make sure you wouldn’t get addicted to it.

He quietly watches you take the cigarette, inhaling the smoke as if you’ve done this a million times before. The way you stare at the tv as the light softly glows on your pretty face; it’s like it’s natural to you now, and with the flush on your cheeks it’s hard for him to focus. Your boyfriend reaches up, brushing away the hairs stuck to your forehead.

“Curious little thing you are.”

He’s really gotta stop smoking around you from now on.

[jinniee87]

Take My Breath Away

Chris Redfield x reader

Chris missed your anniversary for work. You don’t know what to do anymore, but he’s not going to give up on you that easily.

Warnings: NSFW (+18), smut, some angst, apology sex, praise, whining?

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Chris’ heavy footsteps creak against the floorboards as he steps into the apartment. It’s completely silent; he thinks you’re fast asleep considering the lack of lights coming from the bedroom. But the moment he turns the doorknob, he’s met with your silhouette. It looks like you’ve been standing there for a bit.

“You’re home late.”

You stare at Chris with a hardened expression, the disdain in your voice showed, laced like venom. Your boyfriend can only look at you with apologetic eyes and small murmurs pleading for you to not be upset with him. He approaches you, clad in his shirt and only underwear underneath it— the same one you always wear when he’s gone. Your arms are tightly crossed against your chest like you just physically stuck a wall between you two.

“Baby, I’m sorry, okay?” He coos, strong arms finding their way around your waist. The warmth of his hands seep through the shirt’s cotton, enveloping your skin. Chris’ hands practically swallow your waist whole in the way he holds onto you. He squeezes your hip in an attempt to get your attention.

“Work needed me. Shit hit the fan, I—“

He looks into your eyes in the darkness of your shared bedroom. The two of you notice the tiredness in each other’s eyes caused by completely different reasons. His heart breaks at the sight of the disappointment in your eyes, the way your eyebrows are slightly furrowed. Not angry, not sad. You’re hurt because of him.

“I don’t need a bullshit excuse about why you chose work over me,” you mutter, bottom lip quivering after forcing yourself not to blow up in front of him. Chris sighs, his shoulders drooping.

“I mean— you missed our fucking anniversary, Chris,” you scoff, amused by how the words sound when they leave your mouth. Did he even get you a gift? Or was he too busy for that too?

Your anniversary. You two never actually celebrated together on the exact date because of his work, but he’d find a way to take you out properly no matter what. It was… tolerable, to say the least. This year, it had been two weeks, and Chris kept putting it off because he was just so busy.

You kept checking in. Chris would suggest to reschedule. You check in again, expressing your frustrations. The two of you argue.

It’s a vicious cycle that shouldn’t have been a major problem to begin with. Recently, Chris had been taking on so many missions that he barely had time for you or himself. That was affecting both of you, he knew that much.

Frustration built up so much over time it started to turn into resentment. You didn’t know what to do anymore. You’ve tried so hard to be understanding with him, knowing that he’s doing his best to help others while also caring for the love of his life. You’re starting to doubt if he can still do it.

Chris stares into your eyes, still holding onto you like his life depended on it.

“I did, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have swallowed myself in work.”

“Chris, what you’re doing hurts me. You know that?” you manage to utter out, holding back tears. They sting the corners of your eyes.

“I know, I know…” He steps forward and softly shushes you, pulling you in so your bodies are pressed together. Chris looks down at you fondly.

“I’m sorry, baby. Please don’t cry.”

Your boyfriend cranes his head and presses a kiss to your forehead, fingers bunched around your shirt like he was scared you’d vanish the moment he opened his eyes to look back at you. Before you can even process it, Chris sinks down to his knees and kisses your clothed stomach, muttering out loud.

“You know, I’m tired. I just…”

You open your mouth to say something— mostly in protest, but he beats you to it.

“I got you something.”

Chris looks up at you with those half-lidded eyes, hands pressed gently against the plush of your thighs. He reaches behind him, taking out a slim jewelry box from his back pocket.

“Picked it up a week before our anniversary. I know you hate when I have to miss it,” he explains, looking up at you as if searching for any hint of forgiveness in your eyes.

You open the box to see a thin, silver bracelet adorned with stars and a flower on it. Your breath stills, and your gaze falls on Chris. You never expected him to get you anything at all considering how busy he was.

“You really did that?” You ask him in surprise. He stands up, taking the bracelet from you so he can put it on your wrist.

Chris easily towers over you with his large frame. Your heart flutters when you realize— even after being with him so long, he never fails to make your heart race like some teenager in love.

The bracelet is delicately wrapped around your wrist. He clasps it together, and lowers his hands to admire the bracelet on you.

“So beautiful,” he whispered under his breath.

You look up at Chris with a warm expression, almost smiling.

“Thank you.”

Your boyfriend smiles at you, pinning a piece of hair behind your ear.

“Let me take care of you the way you deserve.”

You want to be loved again, to be seen by him like you matter. He wants to give it to you.

He steps forward, then again. You find yourself backed up against the foot of the bed before Chris lays you down on the soft sheets. You can smell the scent of fresh laundry when you hit the bed. His movements are careful, giving you enough time to move away if you wanted to, but you don’t.

You’re letting this continue, and Chris takes it as a sign that you’re not completely upset at him. You’re letting him kiss down your neck and chest— he’s listening to those pretty sounds coming out of your mouth. When your fingers run through his short brown hair, he slowly looks up at you, eyes glossy from just kissing your body. Chris tugs at the hem of your underwear, already pulling them down before you could give him the green light to keep going.

“C’mon, baby…”

You help Chris remove your underwear as you move your hips up, and once they’re off he tosses them on the bed. In the blink of an eye, your boyfriend starts unzipping his jeans and pushing off his clothes like they were a nuisance; in his defense, they were. He groans when he touches himself, already throbbing and aching just for you.

You gasp when he rubs the tip between your folds. It’s already slick with your own fluids, and the fact you can feel how hard he is makes you whine in anticipation. You want him inside you already and it’s killing you. Sparing a glance, your boyfriend gives you a reassuring look before going further. Chris inserts himself deep, and the mere size of him is stretching you out. You both groan at the sensation and your stomach immediately feels full. The two of you hadn’t had sex in a long while; the familiar feeling of him inside you was something that you had almost forgotten.

He let you know he felt the same way too, how good you were making him feel. Chris had a vice-like grip on your hips before inserting himself in you again just to feel how your walls wrapped around him so tight. His fingers pressed deep into your skin so hard you could feel the stinging against your body.

“Good fucking girl… so tight for me.”

Chris let out a heavy grunt before thrusting into you, steady.

You squirm under him from all the pleasure, and he starts to speed up because of it. He sets a relentless pace, barely giving you time to adjust before the pleasure courses through your veins and body. You bite your lip, whining.

“Chris, I can’t—“

He shakes his head when those words leave you.

“No, fucking take it. You’re taking it all for me, baby. You can do it,” Chris grunts, eyes fixed on the way you bounce off him like that.

You feel your stomach already tightening. Chris’ thrusts are getting sloppier, more desperate. He was at his limit and so were you. With blissed out eyes, you manage to look up at Chris who was already looking down at you, making sure you were okay.

“Fuck… not gonna last long, hm?” He mused, scoffing under his breath as he pushed himself deeper into you, hitting that sweet spot over and over that made you moan loud. It feels way too good you can’t even answer him.

Then, you felt it. You throw your head back in awe, gripping onto the sheets as your stomach tightened again. Moans ricochet off the bedroom walls, filling his ears like music.

With a few more thrusts Chris finally watches you come undone below him.

“That’s it,” he mutters under his breath.

From the way your body shakes to the way you bite your lip, your climax hits you like a tidal wave. He feels you clench around him, shamelessly grinding your hips in an attempt to milk out the remaining pleasure he gave you before it disappeared.

He finishes just after you did, warm liquid seeping deep into your stomach. Chris stays inside you as he plops onto the bed. Your limbs and brain feel like mush from the aftermath, sweat and bare skin sticking to you. This was the best you’ve felt in months; neither of you focused on the argument you had just moments earlier.

You can only hear heavy breaths in your ear and the sound of crickets outside. Chris’ arm is draped across your waist, squeezing you tight before pulling out of you. You squirm, and he whispers to you.

“You’re alright, I got you.”

Your boyfriend sits up, admiring the way you looked against the bed sheets— spent and face flushed. He thought you could never look more beautiful than you already were. You stare back at him, chuckling.

“What’s up with you?” You tease, bashfully averting his gaze.

Chris can only smile when you look away from him.

“Nothing. Let’s get cleaned up.”

He helps you off the bed and draws a warm bath for you. It’s domestic, the way he takes care of you after physical intimacy. Chris makes sure to massage your hips when washing your body in hopes to alleviate the pain from his doing. Not that he had any regrets about it when you felt so good beneath him. The scent of citrus soap fills the bathroom, and you almost fall asleep in the middle of him bathing you from how gentle he was.

After you both change into fresh, clean clothes, Chris helps you back into bed. You nestle right under his arm like a puzzle piece slotting against another. He was practically molded for you. Pulling the blanket over your bodies, you press your face into the warmth of Chris’ chest and breathe in his scent.

At this point, the exhaustion was taking a toll on you and you couldn’t fight the sleep anymore. Chris feels the exhaustion creep up on him too. His hand finds your head and plays with the strands of your hair. Almost instantly, you’re fast asleep.

“Happy anniversary, sweetheart,” he whispers, kissing your temple. Chris finally shuts his eyes and lets himself fall asleep.

[jinniee87]

If You Come Into My Heart

Dbf! Single Father Leon x babysitter reader

Leon comes home from a long shift and lets you stay the night because the weather got bad. You’re taking care of his daughter, Marie. Reader is 21+.

Warnings: NSFW (+18), smut, age gap

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Rainfall taps against the bedroom windows as Marie sleeps soundly in her bed, pink blankets wrapped around her like a cocoon. You text Leon, asking when he’ll be home. You try not to bombard him with texts when he’s at work, but tonight was different.

When he left this afternoon, the clouds were nowhere to be seen. Then dinner time came around, and you could barely see any light outside from how heavy the clouds looked. You followed up your text with your concerns about getting yourself home when Leon comes back, but no answer.

You let out a quiet sigh and set your phone down in your lap, glancing over at Leon’s sleeping daughter. You two had always been close ever since Leon came over to your dad’s house. She was the sweetest thing.

Carefully standing from the edge of the bed you sat on, you headed to the living room and decided to wait for Leon until then. You constantly checked your phone, and finally you saw a text from him.

“I’ll be home soon.”

Okay, great. He didn’t exactly answer your questions. So, all you could do was sit and wait for him. You had already told your dad about the harsh weather— it almost sounded like you were going to be stuck here tonight.

After pacing the living room and connecting kitchen at least five times, you stop at the counter when you hear the front door jostle a bit before opening. Leon’s tall, commanding frame steps in like he’d done many times, but there’s something about him now that you never noticed before.

He’s got a rough exterior, sharp eyes that scan rooms out of habit— one that doesn’t allow him a smidge of rest before he gets called into work again. His shoulders are slightly hunched, and he walks forward with a purpose.

“Hey. Thanks for watching Marie tonight,” Leon mutters, ruffling the water off from his dark, ash blonde hair.

“It’s no problem. I do it all the time,” you hum in response, watching him tiredly remove his gear to toss it on the wall rack.

Leon’s blue eyes meet yours, and he flashes you a small smile. It’s clear the day had taken a toll on him, but the moment he lays eyes on you his gaze softens.

“She asleep?” Leon asks, turning his head towards the hallway where Marie’s bedroom was. You nod.

“Yeah.”

He quietly nods back before walking over to the kitchen, his scent lingering behind when he goes past you to the cabinets.

“I know the weather’s bad. You can stay the night, already talked to your dad about it,” Leon mentions as he grabs two glasses and a bottle of bourbon. Your eyes slightly widen at the mention of your father, but you’re not really surprised. Those two had been friends longer than you had been alive.

“You sure?” You can’t help but ask.

Leon looks up at you, pausing before pouring himself a glass.

“Can’t let you drive in this weather, sweetheart.”

Your eyes flicker to the two cups on the kitchen counter, unable to look Leon in the eyes when the pet name escapes his lips. He’s called you ‘sweetheart’ countless times before, ever since you were a kid. But now, that pet name held a certain air to it that made your heart flutter.

“Want one?” He offers. You simply nod, and pours you a glass.

“Thanks,” you smile.

He slides it over to you, and you both take a sip. The alcohol burns your throat as it goes down, but it’s nothing bad. You and Leon are leaning against the kitchen counter a couple feet apart.

“How are you holding up?” Leon perks up, calloused fingers tracing the sides of his glass. He looks over at you, and you can feel the space between you two getting smaller.

“M’fine. Marie and I did some baking today,” you answer, looking up at him with a smile. Leon can’t help but smile too at the thought of his little daughter baking with you.

“Oh! That reminds me. We saved one for you. She wanted to wait for you to try it, but…”

You trailed off, knowing Leon understood what you were saying. Marie wanted to wait for Leon to come home but it was so late at night already. He watched as you grabbed the plate from the microwave.

“Chocolate chip cookies,” you hum, placing the plate beside Leon. He looks down at it before grabbing one, taking a bite.

“Hm. Not bad. It’s pretty good,” Leon nods, chewing contently.

The corners of your lips curl into a smile, happy that he liked the cookies you and Marie made. It’s silent for a moment, save for the hum of the lights above you. Then, it almost looked like he was going to say something, but refrained from it.

“I should uh… probably wash up. I don’t exactly smell like roses right now.”

“O-okay, yeah. Yeah,” you murmur, nodding your head.

Leon moves around the counter and gives you a small smile before heading to his bedroom. You let out a breath you didn’t know you were even holding, and your shoulders relax. Taking the whiskey bottle and the two glasses, you set them on the coffee table and plop down on the couch. You’d need a drink or two for that liquid courage— for whatever was happening between you.

Your face was hot now that Leon had left, and it was also thanks to the alcohol that made your nerves go haywire. Throwing your head back against the couch, you could only wallow in your thoughts and wait for Leon to come back.

It wasn’t long before you heard the door to his bedroom opening again. You could hear footsteps quietly coming back into the living room where you sat.

“Hey. You can sleep in my bed tonight, I’ll take the couch.”

Leon emerges from the hallway with a thick blanket tucked under his arm and walks over to you. You shake your head in protest.

“It’s alright, I can sleep here,” you tell Leon.

He notices his drink and yours on the table, and he hums almost in amusement. Instead of arguing about who gets the couch, he comes over to sit next to you. He’s awfully close— his knee ghosts yours.

“Never knew you drank,” Leon points out, sighing as he presses his back against the couch. You look at him with a cocked eyebrow.

“What’s that supposed to mean? You saw me drink at my dad’s birthday dinner,” you answered him. Your words make Leon chuckle under his breath.

“Fair. I didn’t pin you for a casual drinker though.”

You playfully roll your eyes at him and grab your glass just to prove a point. The glass was basically empty at this point after you took a swig. Slowly, Leon’s eyes drift from you and he leans forward to take a sip of his own drink.

You’re close enough to smell the bourbon on his lips and the fresh scent of laundry and soap— Leon smells heavenly right now. Your gaze follow his, then you two lock eyes. Both of your knees are lightly pressed together, enough to make a difference in the air between you two.

You can feel your heart racing. Leon doesn’t move his leg either, but he moves it closer to yours. The moment you feel that warmth, your eyes flicker to his leg touching yours. You inch closer, the tension growing. The rain outside doesn’t seem to be stopping, but you’ve drowned the sound out anyways.

Turning your body to face Leon, you carefully place a hand on his leg— testing the waters. His gaze darkens just slightly and hooks an arm over the couch, leaning in to speak in a gruff voice.

“You know what you’re doing?” Leon asks. It’s half a warning, half challenging. It’s like he’s testing you too, to see what you’re really trying to pull. You lean in halfway, faces mere inches apart from each other.

“I do. You would’ve stopped me by now.”

“Marie’s asleep,” Leon whispers.

“I can be quiet.”

Leon balls his hand into a fist, actively contemplating between giving in or shutting this down. Obviously, you weren’t the little girl he knew anymore. You could take care of yourself pretty well— hell, you were doing a damn good job at taking care of his own kid.

He couldn’t resist the way you looked at him right now with those glossy eyes and long eyelashes of yours.

He reaches up to hold your chin, pulling you in right in front of his face. You can feel his lips brush against yours for a moment. Leon tilts his head which makes you part your lips. He seizes that opportunity and kisses you hungrily, the taste of whiskey on his tongue.

You let out a hum into his mouth, fingers messily running through his hair. Leon moves forward to lay you gently on the couch, his hands starting to roam your body. The warmth of his fingers moving down your waist started to drive you crazy. He continues to kiss you for a while before traveling down your neck.

Leon isn’t new to this, and neither are you. He still kisses and touches you like a man starved, because both of you know you hadn’t felt like this in forever. Quiet sighs escape your swollen lips as he kisses down your neck and chest. Your fingers are still tangled in his hair, tugging at it when he kisses the right spots. He travels further down, pushing your shirt up to your chest so he could kiss down your stomach.

You look down, watching him with awe and desire as he works his way between your legs. Your back arches towards him, hips pressed against him like an invitation. Leon’s sharp eyes met yours. He could tell exactly what you wanted. With one swift movement, he pulled down your sweats and underwear with your help.

“God, you’re so fucking wet already,” he purrs, trying his best to keep his voice down. Leon licks his lips at the glistening between your legs like a meal before him.

You slap a hand over your mouth, afraid that you wouldn’t be able to control the noises after Leon started. He notices this, and dips his head lower with his eyes on you. Suddenly, his warm tongue slides up your folds— slow, deliberate. Your eyes squeeze shut, and you throw your head back with a hiss through your teeth. Leon squeezes your hips gently, a silent attempt to get you to relax while his mouth was still on you. After all, Marie was just a hallway down from the living room.

The sensations make you roll your hips against Leon, chasing that warm feeling pooling in your stomach. When you press further into Leon, he picks up his pace, determined to bring you over the edge. The sound of your moans are slightly audible now, but you’re trying your damn hardest to stay quiet. Leon looks up to speak, but he doesn’t move his mouth away even by an inch.

“Keep going for me, baby. You can do it.”

With a few more flicks of his tongue, you came undone beneath him. His name leaves your lips like something sacred. Your thighs squeeze his head, body trembling from the way Leon was helping you through your climax. Body spent, you melt into the couch with a sigh.

Leon slowly comes up to hover over your face, brushing away the stray hairs from your forehead.

“You did so good,” he whispers. You can’t even form words right now.

He helps you get back into your clothes, making sure you were doing okay. You look up at him with tired yet content eyes, smiling.

“That felt… amazing.” Biting on your lower lip, your gaze fails at being discreet when you glance at the bulge between his legs. You slowly look back up at Leon, wondering if he’d let you indulge further.

“Can’t risk it,” Leon murmurs, shaking his head like it physically pained him to deny you.

“Marie might wake up.”

“You’ve got a bedroom— and a lock,” you replied, tilting your head as you placed your hand on his thigh, leaning forward.

Leon’s expression flickers with desire at your suggestion. He purses his lips at the thought.

“You’re really testing me tonight.”

Leon huffs, standing up and towering over you. You casually look up at him before standing up as well, hands sliding up his muscular arms.

“Well, I think I succeeded,” you quipped back, fighting a smirk.

He gives you an expression that practically says, ‘I’m dealing with you later.’ Leon nudges his head towards the bedroom like a demand without using words. You happily comply, finally smirking.

This was going to be a long night.

[jinniee87]

Never ‘Just Friends’

John Logan Fwb but not really cause he’s head over heels for you but is too scared to say it

A/N: Based off his character in the show. I tried to make it as accurate as possible.

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It’s been two months since you’ve initiated no contact.

“Take care of yourself, Logan.”

Is all you texted him during the middle of the night while memories of two of you mulled over in your mind. After you hit send, you were filled with more regret than relief.

Had that been the best choice? Sure— you didn’t want this fling to go on when all you ever wanted was him. But, Logan didn’t want that. He couldn’t let himself, for some reason. He wouldn’t let himself let the relationship go past hookups, late night hangouts that ended in sex, and most importantly, past a friendship. Sure, you could see it as clear as day in his eyes— he was smitten. Jules rambled in your ear once about how all he ever talks about is you.

So what confused you about this whole thing is the fact that Logan did all those cheesy things all the while you two weren’t even together. It started off as casual, no strings attached. But then the air between you two changed one night, cuddled up under the sheets after hooking up. He said something funny, and just looked down at you with affectionate eyes when you laughed at his stupid joke. No other guy has ever looked at you the way he did.

When your heart rate spiked, that’s when you realized— you had fallen for the John Logan. Maybe it was the feeble attempts to throw hints at him, but you really did try to give him a little nudge in the right direction. He’d always deflect and act like his upcoming hockey game was the most interesting thing in the world.

That’s what led you two in this predicament. Now, benched in the cage of the ice rink, Logan’s brown eyes were fixed on the floor. His wavy hair hung over his forehead like a curtain, hunched over with his elbows on his knees.

Garrett was the first one to notice that he was behaving quite off during practice. Spacing out, mumbling to himself— basically in his own world and keeping to himself whenever no one was talking to him. If he was responding, he’d merely nod or say an occasional ‘mhm yeah.’ Their coach had benched Logan in the meantime to ‘clear his head.’ Little did their coach know that Logan’s mind was full of you. He was torn between texting you later tonight or showing up at your door unannounced, flowers and your favorite snack in hand and begging you to take him back.

You, however, were hunched over your desk with notes on your laptop with egregious amounts of papers scattered everywhere. Chemistry was already kicking you in the ass as is, and the cramming wasn’t helping either. That’s when you decided you needed a break. Standing up from the desk, you walk over to the opposite side of the room where your bed was and grabbed your phone. Then, you saw it.

Messages from John Logan, his contact name still as clear as day. You didn’t bother to block or delete his number after ghosting him, hoping that maybe one day he’d come to his senses. His messages read:

“I’m sorry. I’m so stupid.”

“Let me come over.”

“Please.”

Logan ditched practice when he decided that having you was worth more than being on the ice. He’d gladly be reprimanded by his coach if it meant that you were by his side, his girlfriend.

There you stood in the middle of your bedroom, dumbfounded. A string of messages coming from Logan begging you to let him come over. At this point, you can barely focus on studying; a break was long due anyways, and right now Logan was your sole focus. Why the hell was he texting you now? You figured he was at practice since you overheard Hannah talking about seeing Garrett after drills. Even then, you wondered what got him to break no contact.

It wasn’t even a couple minutes after he sent his texts when another one came in. You remembered that you left read receipts on for him, and the guilt ate away at you.

“It’s okay if you don’t wanna see me. At least tell me what you want.”

You can almost hear the desperation in Logan’s voice when you read his message. He was such a sweet boy, even if his actions hurt you. You knew he didn’t mean it, but it stung. Your fingers dance across the keyboard, pausing in between to reread your words as if they’d magically say something completely different. You decided on a simple answer, one that didn’t show your true emotions.

“It’s fine, you can come.”

You toss your phone on the mattress. What the hell were you even thinking? At least your roommates are gone for the night— it’ll save you and Logan from the embarrassment. Your phone buzzed, and you picked it up to see what he said. He didn’t waste a single beat before he answered you:

“Text you when I’m there.”

This wasn’t really in this month’s weather forecast at all. You scrambled through your apartment, tidying up whatever you could before Logan arrived. You didn’t bother to clean up the mess in your room either, and you prayed that you two didn’t have to go in there.

With what little time you had left, you checked your phone to see if Logan texted you. The lack of communication started to mess with your nerves. You two hadn’t see each other in two whole months, and now he was going to show up at your door. You couldn’t think for another minute before someone knocked on the door.

You’re met in the face with a bouquet of hydrangeas, baby’s breath, daisies and chrysanthemums— whites and pinks assorted in such a beautiful way that makes your breath still. When you finally look up, Logan’s sheepish eyes stare right back at yours.

“H-Here, your favorite,” he murmurs, his other hand holding your favorite snack.

“Thank you…”

You awkwardly shuffle to the side and open up the door to let him in, taking the bouquet and setting it on the kitchen counter. Logan follows suit, standing in the middle of your living room. He takes in a deep breath, looking around the same place he’s seen countless times— he shoved his hands in the pockets of his jeans. The man looks like he’s fighting between keeping his pride and begging for you back at the same time.

“I’m… sorry. I fucked up,” Logan finally says, shifting on the balls of his feet. You’re just standing there in a large hoodie and shorts with little bears on them— not exactly a romantic sight.

“I know I hurt you, but I’m asking you,” he continues, taking small strides over to you, those brown puppy dog eyes fixed on your face. “Let me make this right. I wanna be your boyfriend.”

Logan stops right in front of you, the scent of cologne and musk wafting around you. He wants nothing more than to reach out and hold you like he’d done before, to feel a familiar body against his. But he stops. He won’t get closer unless you let him.

It takes you a good minute to let the reality of the situation wrap around your head. He wants this just as much as you do, if not more. Hell— you knew that if he hadn’t texted you first, you would’ve just carried on with your life.

He looks down at you, waiting for an answer. His gaze drops to your lips as if anticipating the words that come out of your mouth, whether good or bad.

“Logan,” you murmur, taking a step closer. The warmth between you is magnetic.

“I just… Why did you text me now?”

Logan shakes his head, carefully reaching out to cup your cheek. You’re forced to look into his eyes.

“I should’ve called sooner. I felt this way for weeks,” he explained to you, brushing a thumb over your cheek.

“I couldn’t take it anymore.”

Slowly, Logan’s eyes flicker from your lips and back as if silently asking you for permission. He leans in, tilting his head slightly— his lips part, and you find yourself leaning in too. He doesn’t kiss you yet, but his lips hover over yours to let you move away if you really wanted to. But you don’t.

The familiarity of it all makes your heart race like crazy. Logan’s other arm pulls you in by your waist, holding onto you like you’d disappear at any given moment. He’s gentle, but the unspoken words and feelings are poured into the kiss. You can taste the fresh mint on his tongue, and it makes you wonder if he popped one in his mouth before coming here.

You break the kiss to catch your breath, but his face is still very close— close enough to capture your lips again if he wanted to. Logan’s breath hits your flushed cheeks, and he nuzzles the tip of his nose against yours.

“I missed you, so so much.”

Both hands slide down to your waist now, squeezing your hips gently. He’s missed the way you felt under his palms; he always believed that your body was made just for him.

“I missed you too, Logan.”

Your arms are loosely draped around his shoulders before you lean in for another kiss.

It’s not as gentle as the first kiss. You’re sure of this, and he can tell by the way your tongue swipes across his bottom lip. Logan doesn’t deny you. How could he? This is what he dreamt about.

After the kiss the two of you are left breathless. It takes you a second to open your eyes again, but by then Logan’s already staring at you.

He looks down at you like you just hung the stars. The corners of his lips are curled into a warm smile, and you couldn’t wipe it off him if you tried.

“You look pretty like this,” he teased, wanting to see you blush. He still meant it.

You roll your eyes at his comment.

“You didn’t exactly give me time to dress up.”

“I don’t really care. You know that, right?” He hums, craning his head to press a feather-like kiss to your neck. Your breath hitches.

“I’ve seen you in less, and you still look gorgeous.”

Logan lifts his head. He chuckles with that flirty grin of his, and you smack his shoulder lightly. You both erupt in quiet laughter, like the two of you were exchanging secrets.

For once in the entire chaotic two months the both of you had been apart, everything was right.