warnings ~ 18+ !!! MDNI! pwp, brat tamer higuruma, brat reader, implied age gap, office romance, power imbalance, oral se (m. rec), face fucking, deepthroat, piv, unprotected sex, power play, dom/sub, dom higuruma, lowkey degradation, praise kink, brat taming, hair pulling, rough sex, spit kink, choking, bbbbbbackshots, office sex
a/n ~ this request has been sitting in my drafts heeheh. need dada.
in most workplaces, there are rules. rules like, don’t touch confidential files. don’t sit on confidential files.
don’t sit on confidential files while making eye contact with your boss and smiling.
you were not 'most workplaces', and you were definitely not most employees. higuruma learned that early.
unfortunately, he also learned something worse. you were consistent.
case one (of many). or: the incident with the quarterly reports.
his office smells like coffee and printer ink and the faint expensive scent of his cologne lingering in the air conditioning. inside is chaos. specifically you.
you’re sitting directly on top of a stack of confidential paperwork despite the fact higuruma had very clearly told you not to touch anything on his desk. pencil skirt riding up your thighs, glossy lips wrapped around pink gum, one heel dangling lazily from your foot as his ergonomic desk chair creaks beneath your spinning.
“you finished the reports?” he asks without looking up from his laptop.
“mhm.”
a lie. he knows it’s a lie because the reports are currently underneath your ass. the gum snaps loudly between your teeth. higuruma finally lifts his eyes.
you swear something microscopic twitches in his jaw. “move.”
“make me.”
when your words are followed by silence, you only grin wider. higuruma closes his laptop with precise care. “you know,” he says calmly, “most employees try to remain employed.”
“most employees are boring.”
“you submitted a file yesterday named ‘finalfinalFINAL - all caps - 2.’”
“yeah, cause it was my final draft. final 2.”
his stare could cut glass. you blow another bubble, it pops. his eyes flicker briefly to your mouth.
interesting.
very interesting.
“you’re impossible,” he says.
“and yet,” you hum, leaning back against his desk like you own the place, “you keep letting me into your office. you could just fire me, you know.”
higuruma stares into your eyes for a long moment before flicking his attention to some scattered papers across his desk. he pushes his laptop to the side and starts to read over them.
you smile.
case two (of many). or: the elevator incident.
“you did that on purpose.”
the elevator hums softly as it crawls between floors, with just you and higuruma inside after an eleven-hour shift neither of you wanted. you lean lazily against the mirrored wall. “did what?”
“that.”
“what is ‘that’ exactly?”
his gaze drops to your blouse. specifically to the top two buttons you left undone after claiming the office was “too hot to think properly.” you’d bent over his desk twenty minutes later asking for a stapler you definitely did not need.
higuruma presses two fingers briefly against his temple like he’s warding off a migraine. “you’re aware HR policies exist, correct?”
“are you gonna arrest me, counselor?”
“you’re not funny.”
“you looked though.”
his expression hardens instantly. moments later the elevator dings, but…doesn’t open. it’s stalled. for one long second, neither of you move, then you laugh.
“oh my god,” you say delightedly. “this is literally every terrible fanfiction setup ever.”
higuruma exhales sharply through his nose. “you read fanfiction?”
“you don’t?”
“no.”
“liar.”
“i assure you, i have better things to do.”
“mhm.” you step closer just enough to watch his shoulders tense. “so,” you murmur sweetly, “which part upset you more? the fanfiction comment or the fact you looked?”
his eyes lower to yours slowly. “why do you enjoy provoking people?”
“i only like provoking the pretty ones.”
the elevator jolts back to life, doors opening immediately. higuruma walks out first, but not before adjusting his tie with a sharp pull, expression irritated.
case three (the final straw). or: the night everything finally snaps.
it’s past midnight. the office is quiet. just you, fluorescent lights, and higuruma sitting behind his desk trying very hardly not to look at the problem he already knows is there.
you, of course, are the problem.
spinning around in your chair, glancing at the empty excel spreadsheet open on your laptop every few minutes. mostly looking over at your boss and smiling.
“you’re not working,” he says.
“i am working.”
“you’re spinning in an office chair and humming to yourself.”
you blink innocently. “multitasking.”
higuruma pushes his papers to the side. “stand up,” he says.
you tilt your head. “or what?”
that does it, like something in him finally decides it’s done negotiating. he stands, chair rolling back slightly behind him. the room suddenly feels smaller as if the air itself is watching.
“you’ve been doing this for weeks,” he says quietly.
“doing what?”
“testing limits. ignoring instructions. turning my office into your personal playground.”
you smile wider, but it’s starting to wobble at the edges now. “and yet you let me.”
his eyes lock onto yours. “yes,” he says. “i did.”
he says it with patience that you’re realizing has been running out. he steps closer and you don’t move back fast enough. hand catches your wrist mid-motion, not harsh, just final, pulling you up in one controlled tug. your feet hit the ground and you’re right in front of him, too close.
your breath catches, but you try to recover it with attitude anyway. “okay, wow. boss finally grows a spine—”
he kisses you.
it cuts your sentence clean in half, stealing it mid-breath, mid-thought, mid-defense. his hand slides from your wrist to your waist, anchoring you there.
your eyes flutter shut and when you start kissing him, too, he pulls back just enough to speak. “still funny?” he asks quietly.
your lips part. nothing comes out. his hand’s still cupping your jaw when you make the mistake of rolling your eyes.
“still testing me?” he asks softly.
you force a shrug even though your pulse is fluttering wildly. “maybe you’re easy to rile up after all.”
a lie. you know he’s not.
his gaze holds yours for a long moment before he turns you around. the movement is smooth, effortless, and suddenly your palms are against the desk, his chest warm behind you.
your stomach drops.
“higuruma—”
“you should learn,” he says calmly, “when to stop being difficult.”
you can hear the faint rustle of his sleeves as he adjusts his grip on your waist. then a sharp smack lands across your ass.
you gasp. not even from pain, from shock, heat blooming instantly beneath your skin.
“there,” he says quietly behind you. “now you’re listening.”
your fingers curl against the desk edge. “you’re such an asshole.”
another smack, firmer this time, the sound echoing embarrassingly loud through the empty office. “and you,” he replies evenly, “have spent the last month provoking your boss like you wanted consequences.”
you hate how your thighs press together automatically. you hate it even more when he notices, because a how hum leaves him. thoughtful, almost pleased.
“see?” he murmurs near your ear. “pretty little brat.”
you turn your head just enough to glare at him over your shoulder, but it lacks all bite now. your expression is flushed, breathing uneven. ruined already.
higuruma’s hand slides over the sore warmth he’s created, slow and possessive. “that attitude disappears quickly when you’re handled properly.”
another slap. you jerk forward with a sharp inhale. “count,” he says.
your pride flares instantly. “no.”
his fingers tighten at your hip before another smack lands, harder again. you bite back a sound. “count.”
“…three,” you mutter bitterly.
he chuckles softly. “wrong. that was four.”
your face burns. god, you wanted to wipe that calm look off his face. instead you whisper, “i hate you.”
“no, you don’t.”
another slap, though not as hard this time. almost teasing.
“five.”
his hand soothes over the sting afterward, and the contrast makes your head spin. “you know what your problem is?” he asks quietly.
you refuse to answer.
“you want someone to take control,” he continues, voice smooth as velvet, “but you insist on fighting every step of the way.”
his palm rubs gently over the aching heat again. “and the second someone finally puts you in your place…” he leans down close enough that his lips nearly brush your ear. “…you melt.”
your breath shakes.
humiliatingly softly, he says, “good girl.”
your entire body goes still. higuruma notices that too, of course. a quiet laugh leaves him as his hand rests against your hip possessively. “there it is,” he murmurs. “that’s what finally gets you obedient.”
“shut up,” you grumble, but you barely get the words out before his palm lands sharp against your ass again. your forehead drops to the desk and you bite your lower lip, eyes squeezing shut. it’s embarrassing, that you’re aroused from this, but…
“got nothing to say now?” higuruma says, voice low, a rasp against your ear. “thought your smart mouth would run all night long.”
“i got plenty of uses for my smart mouth, sir,” you bite, smirking now, and it deepens when you feel higuruma’s hands tighten at your waist before he turns you around, looking down at you with an unreadable expression.
unreadable except for the faint tensing of his jaw, the way his pupils dilate just a fraction. “what’re you implying?”
“you know what i’m implying,” you respond just as quickly, gaze darting between his eyes and flickering down to his lips.
higuruma goes still. his hand is on your waist, still holding, and your words hang between you both.
“you know what i’m implying,” you say again, softer this time, but no less dangerous. his gaze flicks to your mouth, then back to your eyes. something in his jaw tightens again.
“say it properly,” he says.
your breath catches slightly. “or what?” you challenge, but it doesn’t land the same anymore. your voice wavers slightly at the edges.
higuruma leans in just slightly. “that mouth of yours,” he says quietly, “has been the problem all night.”
your pulse is loud in your ears. “i’m just being honest,” you murmur, though it comes out less confident than before.
his hand shifts at your waist, firm and controlled. “honest,” he repeats, like he’s tasting the word for patience. “show me, then.”
you pause, biting back a smirk. “what’re you implying?”
“you know what i’m implying,” higuruma responds. when you gently move your hands to his belt, he says nothing.
when you drop to your knees, a low sound gets caught in his throat, and he tilts his head up to the ceiling while you work at pulling his slacks down. “is this what you meant?” you whisper, looking up at him through your lashes once you get his pants down his legs, his erection evident and straining against the grey fabric of his boxers.
“yes, it’s what i meant,” higuruma hisses, voice tinged with irritation as you languidly drag a finger across his bulge. slowly, you pull his briefs down, his cock springing free an inch from your excited face, the tip already oozing precum.
the head’s a pretty blush pink, curved up just a notch, the rest of him flushed and hard and craving your attention. you run your finger up the base, punctuating its path with a tap across the slit. higuruma shudders when you lean down, kitten licking all of the precum you can get, holding back a giggle as one of his hands drops to your hair and tightens its grip there.
“get on with it, then,” he mumbles, pushing his hips forward just slightly, and your sly smile deepens. this, naturally, only inclines you further to tease him, your touches feather light and fleeting along his shaft, tongue still tracing little circles along his slit.
“what’s that?” you lilt, voice saccharine sweet, and higuruma scoffs, cheeks pinking when you gently suckle his tip.
“suck my cock properly,” he says, fingers tightening in your hair as he pushes his hips forward slightly, cock gently slapping your cheek.
“i am.” you twist your hand up and up, slowly, tilting your head to the side, fluttering your lashes so innocently up to your boss. “ ‘s not good enough?”
“suck my cock properly,” he says through gritted teeth, “and i’ll consider rewarding you.”
you perk up immediately, the twinkle in your eyes betraying your attempt at casual ease. “reward?”
“if you behave.” higuruma strokes your hair softly, tilting your chin up ever-so-slightly, and his thumb brushes over your bottom lip absentmindedly, parting them. when you open your mouth, he spits - his saliva mixing with yours before you bring his cock back to your lips.
“what’s the reward?” you ask, sticking your tongue out and licking a long stripe up the base, relishing in how higuruma shudders again, jaw twitching.
“i get to cum down your pretty little throat, and you get to swallow it all.” he delivers the line bluntly, as if he were speaking to a client and not his paralegal on her knees for him. the dullness of his tone sends a delightful little thrill down your spine, and as determined as ever, you bring his cock into your mouth - properly - bobbing your head halfway down the shaft until he’s jutting up against the back of your throat. your eyes water as drool dribbles from the corners of your mouth, coating his length as you take him deeper, deeper still, tongue tracing over the pulsing veins.
higuruma grunts, the sound spurring you on, and he starts to guide your head further down his cock, clearly holding on to every figment of self-restraint he’s got left in his body. when he starts to rock his hips with more of a pace, you pull your lips off, resorting back to teasing kitten licks.
“darling,” he says, voice dark. “don’t–”
“i’m being so good, sir,” you say, smiling - a smile that quickly fades off your face when higuruma tugs your hair, pushing you back onto his cock with a sharp grunt.
“properly,” he repeats, strained when you start to suck with more enthusiasm, twisting your hand along the part you can’t reach.or rather, the part you can’t reach yet - higuruma seemed set on having you swallow his whole cock down your throat, until your air was cut off. and that he did, guiding you down and down his length until your nose is hitting the trimmed hair at his base. until you’re gagging, nails digging into his legs, into his chest, and he’s making low, wrecked sounds, thrusting with abandon.
he moans.
a rumble that tears through his throat, brows pinched as he holds your head firmly against him, your nose brushing his stomach. you choke as he cums, hot spurts shooting down your throat in steady pumps until your tongue’s working his slit, lapping up all of his release that you can.
“open,” he says quietly when you pull your lips off him, and you open your mouth to present him with no traces of his cum.
higuruma smirks, dragging his tongue across his bottom lip as he pulls you up off your knees, stroking your cheek reverently. “good girl,” he mutters, dragging his hand down your blouse, prompting you to undo the buttons with haste. he watches you with dark eyes, loosening his own tie further as you finally get to shrug your top open. you shrink under his gaze - hungry as he looks you over. looks you over in that pretty pink satin bra you’re wearing, and how it catches the low light of the office.
“beautiful,” he whispers, lowering his mouth to yours and kissing you deeply, his tongue pushing into your mouth, his hands busy at your waist, kneading all the flesh there. he hums into the kiss, pulling you closer, and your hands claw at his shoulders, steadying yourself because your knees suddenly feel weak and all that confident energy you’d been bubbling earlier has dissipated and –
and higuruma’s got his lips just under your ear now, sucking softly, just hard enough to make you gasp, then he’s bruising little marks down your neck, down the valley of your breasts, and above the swell of each. your hands busy themselves in his hair, pleasure building slow and steady as he continues to attack your skin. before you know it he’s sliding your bra down just enough to free your tits, and his lips are soon there, too, sucking the sensitive skin so hard you could’ve sworn he’s actually trying to eat you.
“keep making those pretty noises, darling,” he murmurs, looking at you with those hooded, lust blown eyes. the sight alone makes your thighs clench together again, the slick between the apex of them unmistakable.
“you feeling needy?” higuruma brings his hand to the hem of your pencil skirt, hiking it up until it’s all bunched up around your waist. he trails a finger to the side of your panties, snapping tugging the fabric and letting it go with a snap.
your stomach flutters when he brings his cock to your panties, sliding it through the slick cotton, the subtle friction making his head drop to your shoulders. his hand grips your waist tighter and he slowwwwly ruts against you, kissing you through every tiny moan that squeaks through your lips.
“you gonna put it in, or is this the most you’re going tonight?” you say breathlessly, grinning cheekily when higuruma grunts. when you feel his his hand move up to cup your face again, forcing it to face him, to look him in the eye.
“stop being a brat.”
higuruma flips you around, bare chest pressed against the cool mahogany wood desk, and he tugs your panties to the side, his cock sliding between your folds teasingly slow.
“oh, i didn’t think you enjoyed it this much,” he taunts, his hand dipping down to smear your slick along his length, bringing his fingers to his lips after. you watch, head turned, as he sucks his fingers coated in your arousal, and how his eyes roll back.
Fuck.
“and you taste sweet,” he says appreciatively, pushing his cock into you just a half inch. the pressure’s got you gripping the desk, pussy already clenching, because he’s big. you knew so having his dick in your mouth, but now, with your boss’s cock slowly pushing into your core, the thought shakes you even harder.
“tight,” he whispers into your ear once he finally bottoms out, marking his sentence with a quiet grunt. “squeezing me so good. like such a good girl.”
“hurry up and fuck me,” you whine, though it lacks all bite. higuruma chuckles, smoothing his hand over your ass before landing it sharply across your skin again, the sting making you moan against the desk.
“didn’t i say to stop being a brat?” he rumbles, brows pinched together with effort. you’re so tight and warm, and it’s taking everything in him not to just…
but no. a brat’s a brat, and you clearly need your lesson.
so, just to push his buttons that much more, you deliberately clench around him harder. you know it’s got an effect because you can feel his cock twitch inside you, feel his hands grab onto your ass harder.
“such a tease,” he manages through gritted teeth. “anyone ever tell you that?”
“men tell me allll the time,” you taunt.
you make the mistake of turning your head back, because higuruma’s got his face tilted towards the ceiling, adam’s apple bobbing, and it’s seconds before he pulls his cock out and ramming it back in. fast.
the pace is so quick, so rough, so deep - it catches you off guard and you moan every time his pelvis meets your ass, back arching up when his hand lands against your ass with every other thrust.
“brat,” he grunts, roping his arm forward and locking it around your neck, forcing your head back as he puts you in a chokehold, the pressure building up. you grab at his forearm, babbling out incoherently, and higuruma seems to enjoy that because he pummels into you faster, his free hand kneading your ass.
he loves your moans. loves hearing you like this, begging him to keep going, asking in that pretty little voice of yours that he ‘don’t stop - please, sir, don’t stop.’ he loves feeling you clench around him, and loves that little whimper you let out between desperate cries when he rolls your nipples between his fingers.
most of all, he loves the look on your face when you whine that you’re going to cum, and he…stops moving. pulls out altogether, and though his cock throbs, embarrassingly close to an orgasm of his own, the way your pretty features scrunch up and tears well, fat and wet, at your waterline, make it allll worth it.
“please,” you beg, and when he sees your hand dip between your legs - perhaps to get you to that orgasm, yourself - he grabs your wrists, pulling them taut behind your back. you sob against the desk, calling him all sorts of colourful names, begging, just begging, that he let you cum.
you say you’ll do anything.
“anything?” higuruma rasps, kissing the back of your neck softly, and placing a few more to your shoulders.“anything,” you confirm brokenly, hands straining under his grip. “please, sir, ‘need it. need it so bad.”
case closed. or: higuruma's got his favourite brat wrapped around his finger.
Description: Leon kennedy is tasked with training the new rookie, but after the two of you almost kiss, he decides to push you away. mdni.
slow burn, re9 leon, descriptions of zombies that some may find disturbing, female anatomy, head, cum play. WC: 3,000 (ish)
Raccoon City was a graveyard, crawling with zombies and buildings long since collapsed. It was your first mission, one you weren’t quite prepared for, but with the growing threat of the T-virus, there had been no time to fully train you. No time to prepare you for the things you’d witness.
Which was why you’d been paired with Leon Kennedy, a seasoned agent with quite the reputation. You felt safer with him, despite the silence and the cold shoulder you seemed to be receiving. You tried to shake it off, telling yourself he was just focusing, scanning the area for any loose zombies, but it still felt intentional.
He was much older than you expected, his face worn by time and combat, silver hair glistening under the flickering streetlights. You even noticed the way he walked, as if his knees might buckle if he stepped the wrong way.
Your task was to investigate the Wrenwood Hotel after the DSO caught word of a mysterious fire possibly linked to their current suspect and former Umbrella member, Victor Gideon.
There wasn’t much left of the building, that much you knew before even stepping inside. Char marks and debris were everywhere, and suddenly you felt as though you’d been sent on a goose chase.
Leon, however, wore the same scowl of determination, and somehow that alone made you feel more secure in your purpose here. You got the feeling he would leave it he didn’t see the point.
“Stick with me as best you can.” His gravelly voice chimed through the silence for what felt like the first time in an hour. His hand was already resting on his holster, his head on a swivel, and you were beginning to see why he was admired by so many.
“Okay,” you replied, your voice far more timid than his, but no less determined. You swallowed and kept pace as best you could, stepping across broken glass that echoed against the walls.
It was eerie in here, heavy with the presence of tragedy and far more silent than you’d anticipated. The air still smelled faintly of smoke and melted wiring. You could hear Leon’s steady breathing, deep inhales and slow exhales, even from a few feet behind him.
Leon slowed as the two of you approached a wide staircase, half buried by fallen brick and plaster, but once beautiful you were sure.
He lifted his hand slightly, the back of it facing you— an unspoken signal for you to stop. You hadn’t heard anything, but obeyed, gripping your own holster for reassurance.
Leon tilted his head slightly, body still and listening.
You were frozen, the two of you standing there for what felt like eternity, but was probably less than a minute. The atmosphere was thick and suffocating and you began to question why you became an agent in the first place.
But then you heard what had made him pause. A slow dragging sound, uneven steps, and a wet squelch that made your stomach lurch.
Leon unholstered his pistol and you took it as a sign to do the same, thumb hovering over the safety switch.
“Stay behind me.” He murmured, and before you could even respond, the creature responsible for all the noise lurched into view.
At first, your brain tried to make sense of it…tried to force the image into something normal. A man in a uniform. A long coat, once dark and pressed, now hanging in charred, tattered strips. A gold name badge clung crookedly to the chest. A doorman. Or at least… he had been.
Half of his face was burned away, revealing grey, ruined flesh beneath. One cloudy eye rolled aimlessly in its socket while the other fixed on the two of you with something horribly hungry.
You clutched your stomach, terrified you were going to bend over and vomit right there in front of the infamous agent. You’d seen pictures, examples, but nothing prepared you for the sheer smell of decay.
The… thing let out a broken groan and suddenly lurched forward. You flinched back, a sharp breath catching in your throat as the reality finally crashed over you. Your body went tumbling into the banister of the steps, your gun slipping from your sweaty hand in the process.
“Leon—!”
The shot rang out before the zombie could reach you.
Leon shielded your trembling body with his own, pushing you further back against the railing. The creature staggered, but didn’t fall and you began fumbling for your gun.
Your shaky hands found the biting metal and in one swift motion you aimed at the doorman’s head and fired. This time striking true.
The doorman’s body collapsed onto the steps with a heavy, lifeless thud, limbs folding at unnatural angles as it tumbled halfway down the staircase before going still.
The ringing in your ears lingered and for several seconds, neither of you moved. Leon kept the pistol trained on the body, eyes sharp, waiting. Only when the corpse remained motionless did he slowly lower the gun.
“You alright?” He turned, crouching in front of you. You gaze flickered up to the silver haired man, eyes clinging to the black cargo pants and navy shirt. Only then did you realize you’d been gasping.
“I think so.” You managed, gripping to your gun like a vice. His eyes flickered toward it, then over you. There was no judgement from what you could tell, perhaps just a quiet understanding.
“The first one’s always the worst.” He stood, reaching out a hand to pull you up onto unsteady legs. He waited silently, ensuring you could stand on your own before continuing up the steps.
—
Missions continued like this for a while. Leon determined, you timid—but learning, becoming a better shot, more sure of yourself.
The early days were quiet ones, professional, and efficient. Get in, get out. He spoke when necessary, gave orders when needed, and little else. You learned quickly that Leon Kennedy wasn’t much of a talker. Or he just wasn’t very fond of you.
You wondered if he regretted being assigned to you… some fresh recruit who flinched too easily and asked too many questions. But he never said as much. Instead, he corrected your stance when you held a gun wrong, reminded you to keep your knife where you could reach it quickly, and occasionally muttered a short “good” when you handled something right.
On off days there was training. You liked to watch the way he moved so fluidly, the way he threw a punch like it was art and handled a gun like it was nothing.
It was hard not to notice his strained muscles and large hands in moments like these. Hard not to shiver when he placed his palm against your lower back to hold you steady while you flung yourself at a punching bag.
Weeks turned into months, and the missions kept coming, abandoned facilities, quarantined towns, dark corridors that smelled of rot and chemicals. Each one chipped away at the fear that once followed your every step.
Leon noticed and grew fond despite his best efforts.
You could tell in the way he stopped watching you quite so closely during fights, trusting you to cover his blind spots. In the way he no longer had to repeat instructions twice. In the rare moments when his shoulder brushed yours while the two of you studied a map, neither of you pulling away.
Leon carried so much heaviness on his shoulders, a past you knew little about. Sometimes you’d catch glimpses of the weight behind his eyes when he thought you weren’t looking, but time has a way of wearing things down and little cracks began to appear.
An offer of drinks after a mission went sideways. A quiet chuckle when you made a poorly timed joke. Once, when you nearly tripped over debris during an extraction, his hand caught your arm before you hit the ground, and he didn’t let go immediately.
Neither of you mentioned it.
The distance never vanished entirely, but somewhere between hours together studying a blueprint as his desk and countless near death experiences, the coldness had softened.
—
The station was quiet, a normal night for the both of you.
Most of the lights had been dimmed, leaving only the soft yellow glow of desk lamps and the pale flicker of the computer screen illuminating the evidence between you. Files from the Wrenwood Hotel were spread across the surface, burned photographs, fragments of paperwork, a half-melted keycard sealed inside an evidence bag.
Leon leaned back in his chair, legs spread, the old metal frame creaking softly beneath his weight. One hand rubbed slowly at the bridge of his nose while the other held a photograph between two fingers.
Your gaze flickered across him, across his lap, across his set jaw, the veins in his hands. You swallowed thickly, readjusting in your own chair.
It was hard sometimes not to notice the size difference between the two of you, how he gave instructions so easily, how he was always in the corner of your vision… watching.
Leon sat up, reached across the table, and dragged a folded blueprint over the desk. You quickly looked away from his lap.
“This is the original Wrenwood layout,” he said. “City planning archive.”
You leaned forward beside him, one hand pressing the curling corner of the page flat. The blueprint smelled faintly of dust and old ink.
You rested your elbows against the old wooden surface, eyes burning into the page that you’d gone over so many times before.
“Lobby,” you murmured, tracing a finger across the diagram. “Reception desk stairwell… ballroom…”
Leon shifted closer so he could see where you were pointing. His arm brushed yours briefly, warm through the thin fabric of your sleeve.
“Service corridor’s here,” he added, tapping the page.
Your eyes flickered between the blueprint and the rough map the DSO had made after the fire. The two layouts looked almost identical.
Almost.
“Wait.” You mumbled, feeling hope rise in your chest, eyes darting between the blue print and a recovery map the DSO had created.
“This room…” you trailed, pointing, “it’s here on the blueprint, but it’s not on the map.”
Leon’s brows drew together, his large body leaning further forward, scanning the information for himself. And sure enough, the space was gone.
“Holy shit.” He whispered. “A hidden room.” He ran his own hand over the paper, making sure the answer to all your problems the last few months had been real.
“Or one someone didn’t want on record.” You responded, watching him, feeling proud of yourself.
You both bowed towards the page simultaneously, arms pressed into one another. Slowly, almost instinctively, you both lifted your heads at the same moment.
And you began to realize just how close you were to one another, how your noses were inches apart.
And how quiet it was.
You were reminded of the countless times he’d pulled you to safety and his touch lingered, or your hands seemed to purposely brush while reaching for the same thing.
His eyes mapped over your face, down to your lips. Pausing.
Your heart thudded painfully in your chest, his gaze snapping back to your eyes.
The moment stretched. Too long. Too quiet and you could feel the warmth of his breath now. For a second, you thought he might actually lean in, knowing if he did, you’d lean in too.
But his jaw tightened and something uncertain flickered across his expression. Something that reminded you of the way he looked when you first met.
Cold. Distant.
You could physically feel the door slam shut in front of your eyes. He abruptly stood, chair screeching against the floor.
“Let’s call it a night.” His voice was rough and low. It reverberated in your chest.
You stared over the map, head bowed.
“Shit… Leon i’m-“ You began, but were promptly cut off by the shaking of his head.
“We’ll verify in the morning.” He was professional and controlled. A colleague, and only a colleague.
In silent defeat you only nodded, accepting that perhaps, everything would go back to the way it was.
—
The following weeks continued this way, weirdly professional, difficult to navigate. It was eating you alive, this song and dance. You were distracted, no longer enthusiastic about the mission ahead.
When you guys made your way back to the Wrenwood Hotel, the atmosphere was heavier, for reasons unrelated to the tragedies that happened here.
Leon walked ahead like he’d done during your first day, rifle slung over his back & a flashlight in hand.
The place was fairly empty, those infected by the virus long wiped out by the two of you the first time around.
“Service corridor should be through here,” he said without looking back, nudging aside a warped door with his shoulder. The wood cracked and crumbled to the ground. You wondered if he was aware of his own strength.
“Yeah. I remember.” Your reply was flat, frustrated.
The hallway was narrower than you remembered, blackened with soot, the wallpaper peeled back in long, curling strips. Your flashlights bounced off half standing doorframes as you moved deeper inside. According to the blueprint, the hidden room should have been somewhere along the left wall.
You both slowed.
Leon ran a gloved palm across the rotted wood paneling. He knocked once, then again, neither sounding hollow.
You frowned, brushing past him, crouching slightly to examine the lower boards. The paneling here looks identical to the rest. You could feel his gaze burning into your back.
Exactly one panel was slightly thinner, not flush with the rest of the wall. And when you knocked a hollow echo answered.
You pushed & were rewarded with a small click.
“Holy shit.” You heard your companion whisper, his head tilted back in awe.
Both of you watched as the hidden door slowly pushed inward, releasing a breath of stale, untouched air.
He pushed the door open fully and swept his flashlight inside. The room was small. Windowless. A forgotten office it seemed. A desk was overturned, filing cabinets rusted shut, papers scattered across the floor that looked untouched by the fire. Dust coated everything and it was clear no one had been here in years.
Your boots stirred soft gray clouds as you crossed the room, crouching near the desk, searching lower drawers.
Leon followed, his pistol out & pointed, scanning the corners, checking for anything dangerous out of habit.
Despite everything, you were thankful for the safety of his presence.
For a while neither of you spoke, just searched, and the quiet pressed in.
The memory of this same thick silence when your faces were inches from one another made your ears ring.
You averted your attention to one of the drawers, flipping through brittle folders. You hoped he hadn’t seen the way you had to chew on your bottom lip to stop some kind of apology or confession from tumbling its way out.
Most of the papers were useless, random scraps and clerical information. Until…
“I think I found research records.” You chimed, pulling one of the thicker folders out. The dry dust coated the tips of your fingers.
Leon shuffled from across the room, his steps slow and rhythmic. He leaned over your shoulder.
It was too close. His arm brushed against your back & you could hear his breathing, and the way it grew quicker when you were nearby.
You wanted to push it aside. Convince yourself that this was no big deal and that the two of you were much better as coworkers anyway.
But when your eyes flickered up towards his, there was something in them, intense and curious.
“This is ridiculous.” You stood up, tossing the folder aside.
His body stiffened slightly. A catch of breath, the clenching of a fist. You’d managed to take him off guard.
“What is?” That distant voice of his took hold.
“This!” You gestured vaguely between the two of you, arms waving in frustration. “Whatever the hell we’ve been doing for the last three weeks.”
His expression hardened instantly. “We’re working.”
“Don’t do that.”
“Do what?”
Now your own fist was clinched, a frustrated groan clawing up your throat.
“Don’t stand there and pretend like you don’t know. Like you haven’t been avoiding me, treating me like…” You paused, seconds away from saying ‘coworker.’ Because that’s what you were, technically speaking.
Not a friend. And definitely not more.
“Never mind.” You huffed, turning back toward the desk, hands finding the file again.
You flipped it open, the words of visitor records never fully registering because the only thing could see was the way he looked at you.
Those blue eyes so fixated, so intense, narrowed enough to signal that he was holding himself back. At least, you thought so.
“You practically kissed me over a blueprint and then spent the next month pretending I’m just another rookie.” The words escaped you, meant to be said in your head, but you were thankful the air was being cleared.
Either he didn’t want you. Or he did.
You were tired of receiving his stern tone one second, and feeling the brush of his hands the next. It was a mind game you didn’t have the heart for.
“I didn’t kiss you.” His voice was rough, raw even. His words were answer enough.
“You wanted to.”
Silence slammed into the room.
He could have denied it and the both of you could have moved past whatever this was. He could have at least given you that. But instead, he just swallowed.
“Fuck you.” You scoffed, feeling embarrassment creep its way to your cheeks.
You turned away from him, back towards the desk. Your eyes squeezed tightly. This would all be over soon, you thought.
“I can’t-“ He began, his voice more timid than you’d ever heard it before. “I can’t just… blur that line.”
“Then don’t. Don’t blur the line. Stop tormenting me with that look you do. Stop putting your hand on my back when we are walking.” You paused. Seconds passed. “It’s too much.” Your shaky hands reached for the papers, pretending to shuffle through them.
He stood silently again, boots crunching against the debris, his steps pacing.
Perhaps you’d said the wrong thing. Perhaps you were reading into things.
“My job is to keep you alive, to keep you safe until you can take care of yourself.” There was hesitancy in his voice, like the words were escaping his throat without his permission. “You distract me, and that makes everything so fucking hard— sometimes I don’t even realize what I’m doing, I just” Another pause. “I just want you.” “And I can’t fucking help it, believe me, i’ve tried.”
You knew you needed to say something, but your entire being felt stuck in time, trapped in a different reality.
Of course you’d spent countless hours imagining his lips on yours, his hands digging into your hips, him moaning your name.
But now that it was within reach, and now that the reality of how damaging this could be washed over you, words seemed to fail.
“Damnit.” You whispered, leaning down, hands pressed into the dusty wood.
“What if I had kissed you?” He began again, voice further. “When we were looking over the pictures, what if I did? Would you have stopped me?”
No. You wouldn’t have.
You shook your head, body tense.
The air stilled and you could feel the rapid beat of your heart in your fingers.
“Would you stop me now?” The sound of his footsteps grew closer. You managed to will yourself to turn around, hip pressed into the desk.
“No.” The answer trembled. You were trembling. With need, with apprehension, with everything left unsaid.
He stood awkwardly, like he wasn’t sure if he really wanted to go through with it, but his demeanor only lasted like that for a few seconds. Once he reached you, his hands wrapped around your hips, pushing you to sit on the desk instead.
Your breath hitched, but you relaxed and let him, your eyes never leaving his. There was a scowl on his face, dark and lustful like he’d been saving himself for this exact moment. It terrified you. It excited you.
“Good.” He said, pressing his forehead into yours. His body was radiating heat. “I wouldn’t want you to.” The first kiss he pressed into your lips was testing, slow and softer than you expected. He still wasn’t sure if he should push.
But the moment you squeezed your thighs together, showed him any form of weakness, that control shattered.
He used his knee to part your thighs while simultaneously pushing your lower and lower until your back was flush with scattered papers.
You tried to say something, but each time you worked up the courage, his hands found a different part of your body to squeeze.
First your thighs, then hips, waist, stopping at your breasts, hovering over them partly in awe partly in lust. You arched your back, made it clear he was moving painstakingly slow. He didn’t seem to care.
The older man took his time as he fell to his knees, one after the other, creating a thud that was loud enough to surely attract infected.
His fingers hooked the waistband of your jeans, not bothering to unbutton them, instead opting for yanking them off. The effort jerked you downward until your core was flush with his face & he was tossing your pants aside. You’d deal with that later.
Leon wasn’t in a teasing mood, not after waiting to ravage you for so long. Your underwear came off quickly after, exposing you to him. You could feel his hot breath between your thighs, the feeling making your squirm.
He hooked his arms around your thighs, forcing your legs up onto his shoulders. It was all happening so fast, you felt dizzy with lust and tension.
He was normally an awkward man, but not here and not with you. Your mains didn’t know what to think of it, seeing him like this between your legs.
One of his fingers grazed painfully slow against your clit, before using them to spread you apart. Was he admiring?
“If I knew it was this pretty I would have done this a long time ago.” He sighed, kissing up your thighs at a pace that was agonizing. He stopped at your entrance, giving it a quick lick, savoring.
But he was only human, his restraint only lasting so long. Quickly and suddenly, his face was buried, tongue lapping and lapping, for his note of his pleasure than yours. He needed to know what you tasted like, what it felt like when you came.
His nose pressed into your clit, tongue circling your entrance, swallowing every part of you he could take. Seeing the controlled DSO agent let go of himself was surreal.
Your back arched, locking your ankles around his neck, silently begging him to come closer and deeper.
He obliged, though in growing frustrated with your squirming placed a hand on your hip to keep you steady against the desk.
It didn’t matter to him that anyone could walk into the abandoned building or that monsters capable of death were creeping around outside.
He’d gone to sleep for months touching himself at this exactly image, and now that the tension snapped, you weren’t going anywhere.
He allowed himself a second to breathe. You watched as he licked your slick from hips lips, taking his fingers into his mouth. The site sent chills up your body. And he noticed.
“Shhhh, it’s going to be okay. Just wanna make you feel good.” He cooed, slowly pushing his ring and middle fingers inside.
His hands themselves were almost too much, the sting and stretch of them aching but beckoning you to beg for more.
Shaken whimpers left your lips, the sounds which you were trying to make small and inconspicuous echoing anyway. He hummed, satisfied with himself, with the way he was making you tremble.
At first his pace was slow, allowing you time to adjust if you needed. But Leon Kennedy wasn’t a man of patience. His fingers curled, rutting into you faster and faster until you could do anything but lay there and take it.
Your mouth fell open, whimpers turning into loud moans of pleasure. It was perfect and all too much at the same time.
“There we go.” He praised at the noises growing to the volume he wanted. “Stay just like that & I’ll give it all to you.” His jaw was clenched in his own hardened pleasure, the site of you beneath him like this enough to make him finish in his own pants.
You felt yourself growing close, and he knew you did. He could feel it in the way you tensed, beginning to tremble. He kept the same pace, but stood, placing a palm against the desk to hover above you.
He wanted to see your face when you finished, feel your body helplessly press against his while you dripped onto his hand. He was more desperate for it than he had been for anything in his entire life.
“Come on, angel. Come on, baby.” He gritted out between his own shaken breaths. The pet names you’d never heard from his mouth before were enough to unravel you. Your eyes flickered open and shut, momentarily catching glimpses of his furrowed eyebrows and focused eyes.
“There we go.” He encouraged, continuing to push into you slowly, curling any cum he could get from you out and onto his fingers.
You felt deliciously empty by the end of it, whining and whimpering when he finally decided to pull his fingers from you.
He stayed above you for a moment, forcing you to watch him take his fingers into his mouth and lick them clean like a man starved. You’d never get that picture out of your head.
“Let’s finish this mission.” He mumbled above you, eyes gleaming with something dangerous. “And then, it’s my turn.”
And you knew that whenever the two of you worked together going forward, this moment was going to be the only thing on your mind.
With Visuals! Make sure you are logged into X/Twitter beforehand
Nerd!Reader Gojo never expected your virgin pussy to feel this insanely good when he pulled your skirt and panties down in one go and threw you on the bed to fuck you instead of paying for your tutoring sessions. The moment he pushed his thick cock inside your tight, dripping heat, his usual cocky smirk vanished as you clenched around him like a vice.
“Fuckuh! You sure this your first time getting fucked?” he groaned, gripping your hips harder while slamming deeper. You whimpered, fingers digging into the mattress , moaning breathlessly. Nodding as your face is still buried in the pillow underneath you. He chuckled darkly, leaning down to bite your ear as he pounded into you relentlessly. “—Haah— maybe my cock is too big for this little cunt, you’re so —fuck!— tight, baby”
TA!Toji What started as a desperate attempt to fuck your way into a better grade had quickly turned into something far more dangerous the second he sat you on his lap, skirt thrown across the room, and buried his massive, veiny dick deep inside your tight pussy as he makes you ride him.
“Tojiahh— hah— you’re too big!” He let out a dark, mocking laugh and grabbed the back of your hair. “Too big? You’re the one who came here begging to get fucked for an A, pathetic. Now take every inch of this cock”. “If you want that grade, you’re gonna have to prove you deserve it”
Frat!Sukuna You never meant for it to go this far, but the second Frat President Sukuna dragged you into his messy bedroom during the house party, your boyfriend was long forgotten. He had you laid underneath him , your soaked panties torn apart as he slammed his thick, pierced cock deep into your tight pussy.
“Fuck! this pussy is gripping me so damn hard,” Sukuna growled against your neck, biting down hard enough to leave marks while he pounded into you with brutal, relentless strokes. You moaned shamelessly, nails digging into the pillows, gasping between broken cries, “Sukuna—nghh—Ohmygod! My b-boyfriend — he’s looking f-for me”. “Him? That pathetic loser can’t fuck this pussy like do. Tell me how much better my cock feels stretching you out, slut. I want everyone downstairs to hear what a dirty little slut you are.”
Olderboyfriend!Geto Your boyfriend Geto was pissed the second he walked into your room and caught you scrolling on your phone instead of studying as promised. Before you could even explain, he had you bent over his strong thigh on the edge of your mini couch. His large hand came down hard on your bare ass with a sharp smack that echoed through the room.
“Sugu—ahh! I said I’m sorry!” you whined, kicking your legs uselessly over his lap. “I’ll study, I promise!” Geto chuckled as he rubbed his palm over your stinging ass. Without warning, he brought his hand down again in a sharp slap, then let his fingers dip between your thighs, brushing teasingly over your soaked panties. “How can I trust you after you’ve lied straight to my face, hmm?” He smirked, pulling his hand back only to land a firm, wet smack directly on your clothed pussy. The sudden sting made you jolt and whine louder. “you’re not getting up until you’ve learned your lesson.”
warning: p in v, unprotected sex, female anatomy, dubcon if you squint, pet names. mdni.
Vander was possessive in every sense of the word when it came to you. Out in public? He wants you in his lap. With friends? Your neck will be covered in hickeys.
The most dangerous form of this possession was his deep, primal, need to breed you. And it was constant.
God forbid you suggested being more careful by wearing a condom. He’d simply scoff and shake his head.
Tonight you were laying on your back, staring up at the much larger man who had an all too familiar darkness in his eyes.
“Gonna fill you with my cum.” He growled, accent heavier than normal. The sound was so deep it rattled your nerves & reverberated inside of your ribs.
His hands reached up, gripping your wrists and pinning them deep within the mattress. He liked to see you like this… helpless and desperate. Begging.
“Is that what you want?” He leaned down, lips inches from the soft skin of your neck.
You nodded, and of course that wasn’t enough.
“Words, princess.” His tone was so final. Ever the commander. “Do you want me to pump you full of my cum?” A beat of silence. “Do you want to have my baby?”
All you could do was whimper and helplessly nod beneath the weight of him. The wetness between your legs was already beginning to pool at an embarrassing speed.
And when he noticed he laughed… truly belly laughed as he slid into you, his pace quick and desperate from the jump.
A wild animal, a man chasing a necessity, a lifeline.
He came inside watching in awe as you leaked all over the base of his cock & the bed. He grew addicted to the image, ensuring that for the rest of the night it would happen over and over again.
warning: pet names, female anatomy, age gap. mdni.
The day your dad called you and told you he’d made a new friend while you were away for college, you jumped for joy. He’d been a lonely man ever since you left your hometown & you were pleased to hear that he had someone new around.
When you came home for spring break you finally got to meet the Joel Miller you’d heard so much about. And fuck were you taken by surprise.
He was tall, well tanned as any man who worked outside would be, muscular, and his voice sent shivers down your spine. It was deep with a heavy southern drawl that stuck in your memory & made its home there.
Even when you left to get back to your own apartment, even when classes began to pick up again, you heard him in the back of your mind every second of every day.
It was infuriating.
You knew it was wrong when you innocently asked your dad for his number under the guise of having questions about your car.
You knew it was wrong when you slipped on the prettiest lingerie set you had, snapped a picture, and sent it to said number.
And you knew it was wrong when not even 5 seconds later, you were answering his call.
“Why the fuck are you playing around?” The growl that came from the other end of the line was exactly like you’d remembered it. The tone was enough to send your thighs clenching.
“Must have been the wrong number.. i’m so sorry.” Your voice was anything but apologetic, dripping with sweet poison.
“You need to delete my contact.” He spoke through clenched teeth, as if it were a pain. “If your dad finds out-“
You cut him off.
“He already knows.” You were referring to the whole having his number thing— not at all what he meant.
“He knows his daughter, who i’ve only met once, is sending me photos of herself half naked?” His own sarcastic poison now out to play.
You quieted, unsure of how to reply, shocked he still sounded angry. An older man like him should have been thanking you… kissing the ground you walked on.
“Don’t pretend like you are actually upset.” Your voice was a lot less confident now.. quieter. Timid.
There was a long stretch of silence. The only thing his microphone picked up was some random shuffling and the sound of his heavy breathing.
Maybe he was actually angry.
“Are you alone?” He chimed, voice darker than you’d ever heard it.
“Yes.” You breathed caught off guard, knees feeling suddenly weak.
“Get on your bed.” He commanded & in hearing no movement, he spoke again. “Now.”
You didn’t know what to make of it. Part of you didn’t think you’d get this far. The other part didn’t think he’d be so… domineering. You thought at the most you’d get some kind of heart eye emoji back.
You obeyed, turning & crawling into your bed, slowly and shakily.
“Since you want to play games.. try to get me in trouble, you’re going to follow directions or I hang up. Understand?” His southern accent seemed thicker for some reason, like he was relaxing into it.
“Joel-“ Your stuttered, nervous & all too exposed.
“Do you fucking understand me?” His mean voice made you freeze. But you said yes anyway.
“Good girl.” A pause.. he was thinking. Or he was playing with you. “Take those pretty panties off.” He waited until he heard movement to continue. “Spread your legs, and slip two fingers inside. Slow.”
You set the phone down on your chest, doing exactly as he commanded. Your pussy was already soaked, begging to be filled. Your two fingers felt useless, though you moaned anyway— light and shaky.
“That’s it.” He praised, pleased to hear the hitch of your breath. “Just like that baby girl.”
You were slightly irritated that his own voice was steady, that he sounded calm, in control.
“Are you… touching yourself?” You asked, feeling a little embarrassed.
“No.” He immediately replied. “You wanted this so badly, i’m giving it to you. I’m gonna make you feel good baby.”
You whimpered, back arching.
The dynamic went on like this for what felt like an hour. Joel’s praise, you slowly pleasuring yourself, but not enough to reach orgasm.
“Three fingers.” You basked in the sound of him, immediately doing as you were told. It felt so good to be stretched like this, to submit to him.
“Joel.” You moaned his name, speeding up slightly once you felt your stomach tightening.
He grumbled on the other end, so deep you couldn’t really make out what he’d said.
“Fuck Joel… I’m gonna.” You gasped, writhing and overstimulated.
“Come on darlin’, make yourself cum for me.” His words were growls, primal & focused.
You felt your resolve snap, your whole body heating with the orgasm that washed over you. His name came off your lips in a mantra.
You felt dizzy, high with pleasure.
Another few minutes went by as he helped you come down. Praises like “focus on my voice baby,” and “you’re doing so good.”
It was just what you needed to ground yourself, remind your body of the reality it was in.
More silence as you stilled, and then
“Satisfied?” His voice was softer now.
You hummed & nodded, too dazed to use real words. He got the gist regardless.
“Good. I’ll see you next time.” You could hear the smirk on his lips.
And before you fully processed the departing statement…
warning: p in v, unprotected sex, praise, female anatomy. mdni.
The bar pulsed with loud rhythmic music, vibrating the sticky wooden floor with each beat. Laughter tangled together, shoulders knocked into dancing bodies, and Hawk’s & Aizawa stood on the outside of it all— arguing with one another under their breath.
Despite the lively Saturday night, the men were so opposite, their bickering couldn’t even cease for a drink or two.
Keigo, the golden boy full of energy and flirtation was like a dog with no leash. He liked to purposely press buttons, see how far he could go before getting chewed out.
Aizawa on the other hand, didn’t even want to be at the bar in the first place. His tired eyes longed for the comfort of his apartment & some much needed silence. “I think you’re over estimating yourself.” He grumbled, sleepy gruff voice barely audible over the music.
“You’re just saying that to be a dick.” Keigo’s voice was cheerier, almost sing-songy in its excitement.
“No i’m saying that because you are going to be embarrassed when you get rejected in front of me.” Aizawa paused, sipping from his glass of whiskey. “And I will never let you live it down.”
“Like you could do any better.” Keigo responded, ego hurt, defenses raised.
And yet Aizawa only smirked, cocking his head to the side as if contemplating his words. He sighed, and set the crystal glass on the bar behind him. “Let me prove you wrong.”
“Okay..” Hawks began, eyes darting around like a bird on guard, scrambling for an idea. “We both agree on someone here, and the first one to fuck her wins.”
Aizawa laughed, his head falling towards the floor. He couldn’t believe what he’d just heard, but could he be surprised? Suggesting a competition in the first place was stupid. But so was the male ego. “Sure.” He hummed, quiet and warm.
The two men leaned back in unison, the tension of pure concentration falling over them.
It was hard to make out individual faces since everyone was pressed so close. Bodies were blurred together in a bouncing rhythm of outfits far too revealing.
5 minutes went by of squints and denial ridden grunts. And then—
“Her?” Hawks gestured his head towards you, trying to be subtle.
Aizawa spotted you immediately, your gorgeous hair falling down your back as you lost yourself in the music. You were so stunning he felt as if he may eat his earlier words.
“Her.” Aizawa agreed.
That same beat of tension fell over them, now sizing each other up to see who would take off in your direction first. The men entered the dance floor at the same time.
-
This is how you ended up back at your apartment, down on your bed, with your head hanging over the edge.
Both the men were attractive… domineering in their own way so you thought, why choose?
They sat their differences aside for one night, and one night only.
Keigo, you learned was eager. He liked to praise, to take his time and savor the moment. He stood, cock slowly sliding in and out of your mouth, head thrown back in euphoria. His moans were loud & a little shaky, growing in volume each time he heard you gag.
Aizawa carried a darker, hungrier presence. His pace was quick as he buried himself in your cunt, bottoming out with each thrust. Instead of loud cries of pleasure he grunted— as if trying to hold the full force of himself back.
And you felt all too full, stuffed to the brim with precum, your body rocking back and forth to the different paces.
It was almost overwhelming to try and process this much feeling. You didn’t even know how many times you’d already orgasmed. Definitely more than you ever had.
Your body was tired, muscles aching and stomach heaving up and down with deep breaths, but you were surrounded by dogs who were far from done.
“Fuck you’re so perfect.” Keigo breathed, dropping his head to watch your throat take the shape of his cock. The site sent shivers down his spine & he nearly lost himself there.
The man suddenly desperate sped up his pace, now matching Aizawa’s, observing in awe as your breasts bounced.
“Shit.” Aizawa grunted, his voice further away and closer to breaking. You could feel him throbbing inside, feel the way his nails began to dig into your thighs.
You realized then, that they were competing. They were seeing which one could last longer which is why you’d been in this position for hours, fucked out & dizzy.
They were both so very close to breaking.
You wanted to scoff at the duo, protest, but there was no part of you that had enough energy to even try. So you just laid there and took it, trembling from the overstimulation.
There was a smirk on Hawk’s face as he watched Aizawa hang his head low, digging himself into your skin. The bird knew he was going to win this one, it was only a matter of time.
And you needed a break, a chance to breathe, so you tightened yourself around the other, forcing the last bit of control he had left to snap.
Aizawa’s eyes squeezed shut, knees giving out as cum pumped out of him & inside of you. There was so much it.
Keigo decided he too could let himself go, since his friend had & came down your throat before you could even fully process the other man who was leaking down your thighs.
Vi never really had much of her own. Nothing she could truly and wholly say was hers and hers only. Being an older sister meant sharing everything: clothes, snacks, her father’s attention.
And even after that— after she’d grown up, she was thrown into a concrete cell with nothing but her own body.
Which is why when she found you… when she finally got her hands on you, she turned into a greedy, possessive, animal.
Sex was rarely gentle, more hungry than anything. Desperate, like if she didn’t dig her nails into the soft skin of your back you’d disappear.
Tonight had began like most, the two of you laying on your bed & talking about your pasts, bearing your souls open to one another.
And she was feeling particularly vulnerable.. empty.
You blinked. Once. Twice.
She was pushing your back down in an instant, pure lust dancing over her skin and swirling behind her eyes. Your breathing was already heavy with want.
You tried to squeeze your legs together, but she forced them back open, watching your wetness pool.
“This pussy is mine.” She growled, as if confirming with herself. As if she couldn’t quite believe it.
You whimpered feeling the weight of her gaze. And all she did was watch as you blinked up at her, biting down on your lip so hard blood stained your chin.
“Please.” You whispered.
Her eyes locked on yours, remembering. Remembering that you were here, and she could touch you, and that she needed to feel you.
Her fingers immediately delved into your cunt, working themselves so deep you could feel the pressure in your stomach.
“Who do you belong to?” She rasped, slowing her movements until you answered. A tease.
“You, Vi. I belong to you.” Your voice was weak, edging on a whimper rather than a moan.
“Good girl.” She praised, satisfied & speeding her hand up to a rhythm you had trouble processing.
Your back arched reaching for the ceiling, already clenching around her hoping for release.
Your stomach clenched, hands reaching up to yank on her hair, trying to ground yourself as you soaked her fingers and the bed.
Satisfied, she licked your wetness off & crawled her way up your body, lips immediately locking onto your skin.
“So perfect.” Her voice muffled into your neck, biting & sucking— leaving herself behind in splotches of deep browns & blues.
“All fucking mine.” She continued, moving her way down to your breasts, covering them in hickey’s.
By the time she finally let up, you were littered with them. There wasn’t an inch of your skin someone could look at without knowing she’d been on top of you the night before.
warning: overstimulation, female anatomy, use of pet names. mdni.
If you know anything about Saturo Gojo, it’s that he is a pleaser. Partly for his own cocky reasons, hoping you’d go brag to all your friends about how you couldn’t walk the next morning, and partly because he loved to watch you tremble.
When the door to your bedroom swung open & your boyfriend stood there, all heavy breaths & narrowed blue eyes, you knew tonight was going to be one of those nights.
You tried to get a word out, tried to explain that you were in the middle of something, but it wasn’t quick enough.
“Lay down.” His silky voice ran chills up your skin. You knew better to argue against the determination on his face. So as commanded, you pushed your back against the pillows.
He didn’t say anything else as he tore his own clothes off like a madman, and the silence made you squirm. The air was hot, and your lips quivered with anticipation.
His footsteps approached, heavy, calculated, sizing you up as you laid there as if he didn’t know where to begin.
His eyes bounced from your torso, watching your own breathing speed up, to the slickness between your legs. He smirked.
His body stopped at the edge of the bed, dropping to his knees, wrapping his hands around your ankles, and pulling you to him.
Usually there was foreplay. Usually there was dirty talk. Tonight he was hungry, impatient, already rock hard from having palmed himself to the thought of you all day.
You tried to say something to ease his tension, but it took all of two seconds for his tongue to slip into your wet cunt, lapping and lapping like a starved man. He hummed in pleasure, basking in the taste, causing you to moan so loud your head fell back.
“Fuck—“ He breathed, voice muffled. His lips made their way to your clit, focusing on the bud, desperate to taste your cum. Desperate to swallow you.
“Gojo.” You breathed, back arching towards the ceiling, head already fuzzy with pleasure. “Too much.” You tried to warn, feeling your stomach tense, feeling your orgasm begin to rip from you before you were ready.
“Atta girl.” He praised, pulling his lips from you & replacing them with his fingers. The two digits slipped inside with ease, stretching you out in a way that made you shiver.
He pumped slowly at first, allowing you to ride out the waves from your first orgasm but as soon as you relaxed even slightly, he speed up until his hand was pushing into you so fast you bounced with the force of it.
“You’re so fucking perfect.” He groaned, feeling you tighten, feeling you try to slow your own orgasm down. He, of course took this as a challenge, curling his fingers until you let yourself go with a screaming moan once more.
He pumped slower, bringing you back down again before standing up and licking the slick from his hand.
You watched, stomach squeezing with butterflies. His eyes were swirling with lust, cock so hard and dripping with pre cum you chewed down on your lip to bite a whimper back.
“Think you have another one in you?” His voice was much darker now, raspy.
You didn’t think so, didn’t know if your body could take something so intense again. You shook your head— but without a safe word that wasn’t enough for him.
“That’s too damn bad.” He warned, lining himself up with your already tired cunt. His hands dug into your thighs, knees shaking as he slid in. It was slow, painful almost. Your eyes filled with tears. It was all too much in a short amount of time.
“You take me so well.” He cooed, continuing inside, thrusts slow and sloppy. “Your body was made for me.” “This is my pussy.” “You are mine.” He continued to blab.
His own moans were straggled and quiet, dark whispers against your loud and broken ones.
Skin slapped against skin as he grew more needy, nails digging into your hips as he tried to pull you down into him. Too tired and fucked out to think, all you could do was lay there and take it.
“Shit.” He growled, pace quickening to a speed you couldn’t even process. His own body tightened, hands leaving bruising marks in your skin as if he were trying to tether himself to you.
The warmth of his cum shot inside, but he wasn’t done. He wouldn’t be done until he physically couldn’t stand anymore.
His cock was still hard, he was still needy, and he’d use you as long as you would let him.
So this went on for hours. You telling him it was too much. Him telling you that he knew you could take it. That you were his good fucking girl.
Your night ended with heavy pants, laying in tangled limbs and cum dripping over the side of the bed, thighs absolutely soaked.
But he held you, told you what a good job you did, as his hand tucked your hair behind your ear.
pixelskylines
vaporwave
discoholicmusic
titsay
