hey :3 it’s been almost a year since i posted a fic (omg??) but do not fret, i’m most definitely still alive. just got busy with work and classes, but i swear i’ll try to write more on my free time!! missed u all so much
Yes, Joel Miller's belly button is hairy, and yes, he has a happy trail. You're welcome. Also, the sound of a belt buckle getting undone has never sounded sexier in my head.
Since y'all love this pretty, hairy belly so much, I made a few other angles for ya. Thank god this beautiful man is pixelated and doesn't exist, otherwise he'd sue me for slander.
Don't repost without CREDIT or you'll make me never want to upload such shameless pics again! *pointing a warning finger*
he’s an old man now, so don’t expect him to be coming at you with the same stamina as he used to.
his back will seize painfully, his hips will lock, his breaths will come sharper. his arms strain when he tries to hold himself above you, the veins bulging deliciously. inevitably, he’ll fall down, letting his head just rest in the crook of your neck.
but of course, that’s not to say that he still doesn’t fuck you mean. like he always has. like he always will.
he likes to have one arm wrapped around your back, manually arching you into him. he likes to keep his other arm against the mattress, hand gripping yours painfully, or clenching the pillowcase between his fingers so tight that his knuckles turn white.
and he loves to fuck you rough.
it’s not all that fast—god knows if he went as fast as he used to, his damn hip would pop out of place. so he makes up for his lack of speed with hardness. his hips meet yours in cruel, firm thrusts, rocking your entire body up the bed—your head hitting the headboard so often, you fear a concussion.
and his pace might not be quick, but it’s consistent. for a good bit, he could go just like that—strong hips pushing against yours, tip abusing your fucking cervix, coaxing orgasm after orgasm out of your spent pussy.
and it doesn’t help that he sounds so pretty too.
most of the time, he grits his teeth, hissing in your ear and letting little chesty grunts loose. he doesn’t feel that those needy moans would work coming from him at his age, but at his core, he’s always been weak for one thing—you. so when you ask him to be loud for you, tell you how good he feels, his lips will instantly part, jaw dropping for you and letting all those guttural noises spill out.
and when your cunt flutters around him, impossibly more turned on by his deep groans, a whimper sounds at the back of his throat. flustered, he’ll bite down on your shoulder—not hard, he’d never want to hurt you, but firm enough that your skin tingles beneath his teeth.
he doesn’t last as long as he did back then. where once he could go for hours, he can’t stave off his peak for longer than a half hour now—and that’s if he really tries. which, he hardly does. why should he, when you seem so eager for his cum anyway?
something that always speeds up the process is praise. with his age, he’s become a little more conscious of himself—his changing body, which you insist is sexier than ever before, but he remains stubborn in thinking he’s not good enough for you. older, tired, scarred up. so when he’s balls-deep, with sweat dripping from his temples and breath catching in his throat? and you’re breathlessly whining, “Making me feel so good, Leon— fuck, so good for me.” and, “You’re gonna make me cum..” ? He’s gone.
but sometimes, praise from you is just that glaze in your eyes—the cockdrunk gasps slipping from your wet lips, unfocused gaze and tremble in your thighs. visible signs that he’s making you feel good. no, better than good. fucking euphoric. and suddenly he’s gasping for air, hand flying down to your hip to grip it tight as his hips falter, filling you with all he’s got.
he also loves when you ride him. he feels a little less secure in this position, his body more visible to you, but once he gets you in his lap, grinding your hips against his, giggling out moans when his hips instinctively buck up into yours—he forgets all that. and he looks so pretty like this, laid back against the pillows, eyes struggling to stay open, brows drawing tight, lips inevitably falling open as he breathes shallowly. one of his hands on your waist, sometimes helping you bounce, others just resting there. the other is either gripping the sheets to ground himself, stave off his orgasm a little longer, or it’s on you—holding your face with visceral devotion, tucking hair that’s sweatily matted to your temple behind your ear. or on one of your tits, groping the soft flesh there desperately. reverently.
some things have to change. sure, he can’t fuck you like he could, can’t last as long as he could, and he’s not as confident anymore. but he finds ways around it.
he finished before you? he’s shuffling down the bed and stuffing his tongue between your legs for an hour minimum, flicking at your clit and thrusting into your cunt until you’re gushing all over his face. and when you think you’re done, numerous orgasms later, he’s rolling onto his back, pulling you with him and slotting you right onto his face—moaning deeply into you at just the position.
his hips aren’t moving fast enough? his hand is creeping between you, fingers working at your clit in rapid, smooth circles. he’d rub you just right, just how you like it, until your cunt clenches around his cock and leaves a white ring sheening it—and he still wouldn’t stop. you’re his girl—he knows you like it that way.
he’d do anything to make sure you stay satisfied. which, you always are anyway, more than. with a man like that, there’s no way you’re leaving his bed without a tremble in your steps and soreness to last you days.
felt like this was long overdue. i miss writing for leon🥹
re9 leon's hand cupping your cheek, forcing you to see him. his thumb caresses your lips and you playfully bite him. he smiles, "pretty girl..." leon let's his spit pool in his mouth and let's it fall directly into your mouth.
xD I'm joking. But damn I'm a little surprised by how on the nose this is.
Link to the quiz be warned it does open with a somewhat flashy gif but it goes away once you start.
No pressure tags: @katsulock @madaqueue @princesa-querida @icy-spicy @pastelle-rabbit
@chrisaemas @p00pdev1l @t-tomuras @goldchemy @kween-katsuki and anyone else who would like to play!
synopsis: your older boyfriend and the way he likes to cherish you
content warnings: MDNI!, leon and his old ass, brief mention of his depression?, reader's pov doesn't exist sorry, kissing (for like ever), teasing, eensy bit of fingering, leon getting desperate, p in v sex, unprotected sex (wrap that thing yall!), creampie, he's soooo fucking sappy I'm sorry
word count: 1282
notes: this is my second time writing these damn notes bc the first ones got deleted.. I started writing this with DI leon in mind, and then they dropped re9 leon and well... I had to. I need that old man BAD.
enjoy?
Kisses with Leon always start out slow no matter the occasion. It's just a matter of how long they stay slow. 85% of the kisses he gives you are to cherish you, to really take in what he's so lucky to have. The other 15% are meant to devour you, to take what he's so lucky to have and indulge in it to the highest degree.
I think as he got older, he found that even though he may not have much time left, he shouldn’t make loving you feel the same way. He likes to take things especially slow now.
The build up to kissing you is slow, the way he stares at you like there’s nothing left in the world except you and the love he has for you. The way his hands roam oh so slow; starting at your waist and feeling their way up, stopping for maybe just a moment or two too long when they brush past your chest. The way his fingers dance over your collarbone is sure to send shivers down your spine before he amends the jolt by cupping your face in his hands, the heat from his palms almost scalding. He’s always either freezing or burning, never in between.
All that for him to finally close the distance even slower, taking in the way your breath catches when he’s close enough for your noses to bump. He likes to hesitate just a breath away from you just to hear the exasperated way you huff out that gasp, just to make you sure you want it as badly as he does. Then his lips are on yours. Slow, but ravenous, light and pressing in deeper and deeper by the second.
When he was younger this would’ve been the point where he’d start biting and licking, trying to invade your senses to make you want and crave him just as much as he did you. But with age came the ability to draw things out, the ability to linger and kiss you slow and deep to feel the way you crumple, even when you’re straddling his lap on top.
He likes to pull away every now and then to tease you more. To watch the way you slowly lose your mind chasing after his lips. It only adds to the fun when you’re denied so much that you get desperate enough to bite and licking on your own, pressing and begging him to pick up the pace with a series of pathetic whimpers.
Now there is the reward he was waiting for.
He’ll only give it to you once you beg, his hands cupping your cheeks sliding to thread into your hair so he can angle your head, his tongue swiping against your bottom lip slow and playful before he takes advantage of the little gasp you let out and slips his tongue to meet yours, licking against your own to goad you into giving more and more to him.
He hums low and deep when you do, the sound shooting straight down to your core and pulling a heady moan from you as well. He pulls back to suck and nibble on your bottom lip then, his free hand taking its sweet time finding its way under your shirt. His palm slides up your side the same way his tongue slides against your lip, his fingers rubbing over and pinching your nipple just as sharply as his teeth find your lip and clamp.
The way you whine is everything to him. It kicks his heart up a few beats, makes him more just a bit faster as his hand trails down, rubbing up against your clit through your panties and feeling how damp the fabric is. That makes him groan against your lips, his cock throbbing against his pants with a desperation that surprised even himself. He didn’t think anything could get him that hard at this age.
In his new found desperation, his lips trail down in a filthy trail from your lips to your neck, his teeth finding the same place his fingers had so delicately traced earlier to bite and nip, his tongue laving over the bruises he left to soothe.
As patient as he could be about kisses, when it came to anything more, he really couldn’t help himself. Perhaps it was the aching need for intimacy. The need for physical closeness to feel emotional closeness. Whatever it was, it always made him act like a fool.
His calloused hands working down your panties with as much gentleness as he could muster despite his hurried pace, his fingers poking, prodding, scissoring and curling to stretch you enough to take his cock. It was never enough in the end, though at times like this he couldn’t wait.
Times like this, he remembers how much of his life had flown by in a blink. He remembers how many times he held himself back for the sake of others and how little he enjoyed life because of it. He remembers how little he cared for everything, and how much he cares for you now, and he’d be damned if he wasn’t a little desperate to show you.
So he works you down onto his cock despite the rushed prep. He thumbs your cheek and whispers praises to soothe you until he can move. He starts out slow when he does, just to make sure you can really take it. Slow and hard. He works you down onto his cock, and when you can take enough, he thrusts his hips up into yours, making sure you can feel him buried inside you when you come down.
He likes to watch the way your face screws up when he angles his hips just right, when his hands press you forward into him so he can more firmly grab your ass and spread you out from the back. He likes to watch the way all thought visibly drains from your head when desperation takes over and his hips snap into yours, when he adjusts the way he’s sitting and drills into you like the grip of your pussy put years back on his life and he’s young enough again to fuck you the way you need him to.
He for sure likes the way you clumsily try to kiss him through all of this, the way you can barely keep yourself from moaning into his mouth as you meet with a clasp of lips and teeth, all messy yet so fucking hot that he can’t bear it. It takes everything in him from blowing his load then and there. You just clench around him so deliciously when you kiss, as if his lips against yours brought you the greatest amount of pleasure in the world.
He waits until you get there first, working into that gummy spot of yours with scary efficiency and reaching down to thumb your clit so you break apart on his dick and he can follow. It’s only when you’re twitching and whining that he lets himself spill into you, his grip on you strong enough to bruise and his heart beating so fast in his chest that he’s worried he’ll have a heart attack then and there.
He wouldn’t do that to you. Keeling over and dying after sex that good, he wouldn’t traumatize his girl like that. No, instead he works you and himself down, pulling your body snug against his as his lips find yours again, back to kissing slow to bring the both of you down from so much heat.
Kisses with Leon after sex feels better than anything else. So grounding, so complete. So much like home.
─── Ი︵𐑼 EX-BOYFRIEND JASON TODD .ᐟ is the type of man who still shows up unannounced at your apartment, forcing your window open and sneaking inside after a hellishly boring night of endless patrolling. dirty leather boots slam into the wooden floor with each heavy step he makes and he grunts, tired, making his way through the dark kitchen. the familiar scent floods him and waves of regret strike his heart blue. this is no longer his home. it’s yours.
and if he wanted to be stealthy, he could be. he wants you to wake up tonight. and hopefully, you will. he’s the type of man who simply can’t get used to the idea of no longer being by your boyfriend and this is the best possible remedy to soothe the pain inside his heart. it’s impossible to get rid of him. it’s been making him obsessive and anxious. as frustrated as you’ll be with him, jay couldn’t care less. it weights on him that you won’t take him back, but he knows you miss him. you’re stronger than him.
the clock ticks 3:47AM when a sudden noise wakes you up. a loud yawn slips out of your mouth and you roll off your cozy bedsheets, digging your nails into you head to scratch an itch away. you drag your fluffy slippers across the cold floor and the moment you enter the kitchen, the bright cold lights blind you, forcing you to squint your eyes and whine.
an oversized pantera t-shirt (jason’s) keeps you barely warm and a pair of old panties hug your ass. you stop, arms crossed against your chest and you bounce your right leg in sleeping agitation.
there he is. jason todd. your ex-boyfriend. this is not shocking. you knew he would show up, eventually. he stands inside your kitchen as if he still lives here: his muddy leather boots set at the entrance, jacket on the coat hanger, mask and dirty gloves thrown on the floor.
it’s been a while since jason last showed up. three weeks, to be more precise. you’ve been keeping count. every day. ever since your last encounter on the fire escape, your heart’s been aching heavy inside your chest; missing him and what you used to have.
knowing jason, you bet he’s snuck inside your apartment more than you could ever imagine. watching you sleep. using your shower. dozing off on your couch for a few hours. reading your books. you swear he’s been messing around with your plushies. he’s been hiding gifts inside your house or leaving bouquets of flowers on your dinning table. last time, you had no choice, but write him a note on a small piece of paper:
‘DEAR JASON PETER TODD,
stop breaking into my apartment. i’m SERIOUS!!!
(thanks for the flowers) ’
to which he replied with a note placed on your fridge, yours kept in his inside pocket.
‘DEAR EX-GIRLFRIEND,
stop leaving so many dishes in your sink.
ALSO, jason jr. was hungry. he was crying.
you’re very welcome.’
jason jr. your soft, cute plush puppy. you picked the name and your ex-boyfriend loved it.
─── Ი︵𐑼 EX-BOYFRIEND JASON TODD .ᐟ who stands over the stove, with his broad shoulders and muscular back, hugged by a tight black t-shirt, a strong hand gripped around a pan handle and a spoon full of red sauce stuffed in his mouth. this view, you took it for granted and the realization hits you immediately.
you used to sit on that counter at midnight while he spoon fed you and cooked for you. some nights, you’d wait for him to come back from his nightly patrols, windows wide open, because you knew he’d never in his life use the front door.
“jay, the door is right there.”
he used to wrap you arms around your waist and press his lips on top of your head and his mouth would wander down your neck, soft breaths hiking up your skin.
“and the window is right here.”
you used to feel something. but you won’t take him back and it’s a painful truth you are both aware of.
the kitchen drowns in the smell of tomatoes, meat and freshly chopped garlic. some vegetables rest on a cutting board while he waltzes the ingredients around with the spoon in his mouth.
“mornin’, sunshine. took you look enough to get out of bed.” his senses are sharp, quick. he doesn’t have to turn around, he’s heard you toss and turn in your bed.
“christ, jason, it’s 4am. what are you doing here?” you rub your eyes and make your way across the kitchen.
“cooking pasta. hungry, babe?”
“jason, please. what are you doing here?”
─── Ი︵𐑼 EX-BOYFRIEND JASON TODD .ᐟ who makes you climb up the kitchen countertop with your legs wrapped around his large frame, one scarred hand firmly gripped around your plump ass. the other, he sneaks it underneath your t-shirt, playing with your boobs. the kiss is too aggressive; two mouths crashed against each other with the most primal need.
hunger.
hell, he’s been spending his time thinking about you, sulking or with a hand fisted around his cock until he couldn’t cum anymore.
jason wants you now and you need him more and more and more. there’s too much space between you and nothing can fill it up, unless you really want to. unless you claw onto his body like it’s the only way to keep living. your clothed clit rubs against jason’s body and you hold onto his t-shirt, pulling him closer and closer and closer.
this is the last time. he’s been gone for three weeks, but every day, he’s been thinking about you. your relationship ended four months ago. this will be the last time. and then, he’ll let you be.
“i worry about you all the time, y’know, jay-”
“you worry about me, huh?” he interrupts.
“you know i do!”
his fingers motion sweetly around you clit, teasing your soft spot through the soaked fabric of you panties. you part your lips, still stuck to his and every moan falls muffled into his mouth.
“ and i-i miss you. but you can’t keep sneaking up like this!”
“give me a solid reason and i’ll do it, doll.” he pulls your panties to the side and his fingers dip straight into the wetness between your thighs, sweet folds stretching nicely around him.
you’ve missed it so much.
“ jason, i- you feel so good inside me. but- you have to stop this. i hate it!”
“hate what?”
“my life without you.” you cry, “i can’t stand the way you come and go,” and you moan, fingers inside you, “you know we can’t be together.”
─── Ი︵𐑼 EX-BOYFRIEND JASON TODD .ᐟ who forgets about his food, because there’s a different type of hunger burning inside him. who fucks you with your hands pressed against the countertop; he squeezes your thighs shut together, letting you feel how thick and big his cock is— how good it feels to be filled up to the brim and be loved by him. how amazing it feels to miss him and finally get him like this.
there’s no surface in the kitchen and livingroom left untouched.
he spreads your legs wide open on the dinning table, pulling you closer to the edge with his calloused hands locked around your ankles. the perfect meal. he makes you sit on top of his body and your hips roll, while he sits with his arms behind his head, strong muscles flexing and veins pulsing, watching how deep he sinks inside your cunt. he likes it when you turn greedy, mindlessly digging your nails in his chest, eyes rolling in illicit pleasure when you come on his cock.
“that’s my pretty girl.”
“rough night?” you use a fork to play around with the leftovers pasta, but you’re no longer hungry. you sit at the dinning table next to jason and suddenly, a feeling of wholeness takes over you. but this feeling will go away as soon as he leaves early in the morning.
jason is staying over tonight. a part of you wants to invite him in your bed and let his body press into yours, arms around your waist, warm, cozy. he’ll sleep on the couch and this decision to push him away makes your heart ache.
“not anymore.”
now that he’s with you.
“you look like shit, jay.” you bury your face in the nape of his neck, placing a soft kiss.
and you look just as beautiful as ever, he thinks.
“go shower before i change my mind. you’re not getting in our bed like this.”
ours.
you promised yourself he’ll sleep on the couch.
“yes, ma’am.” he mumbles, stuffing more pasta in his mouth.
he takes a brief pause and then, he continues, suddenly so shy, “wanna join me?”
it’s impossible to escape your ex-boyfriend, jason todd. he always finds his way back to you, like a sick, needy puppy.
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