☁︎⋅ (18+) sucking off yummy smelling leon (request)
the heavy thud of the front door closing echoes through the quiet apartment, followed by a long sigh. leon is finally home.
he doesn’t even make it past the entryway before he drops his tactical gear bag to the floor with a dull thud. he’s spent the last three days in the humid, suffocating climate of a coastal jungle mission, and it shows.
his dark blue compression shirt was darkened with a layer of sweat and dirt. his hair was damp, clinging to his forehead and the nape of his neck. he looked absolutely wrecked, chest heaving slightly as he rests his head against the wall, eyes closing.
“hey,” he rasps, his voice rough from exhaustion. “don’t get too close, I smell like garbage.”
but you’re already moving toward him, like a shark drawn to blood. to anyone else, he might just look like a tired soldier needing a shower. to you, he smelled like absolute heaven.
the moment you stepped in close, the thick, heavy wave of his natural scent hits you. it was the pure, unfiltered scent of leon. sharp copper and a deep musky undertone of concentrated sweat that has soaked into his skin and clothes over days of physical exertion. it was intoxicating, making your mouth water.
before he could say anything, you wrapped your arms around his waist, burying your face into the crook of his neck. leon lets out a low chuckle, his hands awkwardly hovering above your hips. “c’mon, sweetheart, I’m dirty. let me go wash off first,” he groaned.
instead of pulling away, you slide your hands up his broad chest, feeling the damp heat radiating through his shirt. your nose drags along his jawline, catching the saltiness of his skin.
with a soft, needy whimper, you nudge his arm upward. the compression shirt was absolutely drenched under his arms, holding the absolute potent concentration of his musk. you press your nose directly into the damp fabric of his underarms, taking a massive whiff.
leon stiffens, a low groan catching in the back of his throat. his fingers twitch, finally digging into your waist to hold you steady. “you really are obsessed with this, aren’t you?” he murmurs, his voice dropping an octave.
“you smell good,” you smiled at him cheekily.
wanting to taste him just as badly, you lean up to kiss him softly, lingering on his lips just long enough to catch his ragged breathing before descending down his body. your hands work quickly, unbuckling his heavy tactical belt and pulling down his pants.
as his thick length springs free, the scent of his heat hits you instantly. you lean in close, taking a deep, worshipful inhale of his shaft, letting the heavy scent fill your nose before dragging your tongue slowly up the underside to lick the leaking tip.
“god, I could get high off you,” you moan against his skin, parting your lips and taking his swollen head into your mouth.
leon lets out a ragged groan, his head snapping back as his fingers tangle in your hair. he leans against the wall for support, his thighs trembling slightly as he surrenders to your touch. he supposed he could let you have your way.
unable to hold back, his hips began to move on instinct, slowly thrusting into your mouth until a sudden sharp gasp left him. “g-gonna come,” he groaned.
he shudders violently, his grip tightening in your hair as he comes all over your face and mouth. breathing heavily, you look up at him through your lashes. your face is warm and painted in his release. you couldn’t help but smile as you were surrounded by his musky scent and covered in his fresh cum.
when it’s 3am and you’re writing a masterpiece but then it’s morning and you’re trying to edit that nonsense but then it’s 3am again and you hit publish (kinda proudly even)
Red lights flashed in the cockpit. Her ears were ringing when she finally came to. Bea didn’t know how long she had been out, but it couldn’t have been for too long. Explosions and gunfire still echoed outside the cockpit of her Mech. She tried every frequency she could to contact her allies - short range, long range, even the comm specifically for Handler - to no avail. She needed to get out of this - needed to find a Friendly.
It was only when she reached up to adjust her muzzle that she realized there was blood trickling from the side of her head. It wasn’t a lot, but, it definitely wasn’t the best in this situation. She had to get out of here. Handler must be worried, right? Can’t keep Her waiting. Bea undid her safety belts, and steeled herself before detaching the tube from her arm that was meant to deliver stimulants into her bloodstream. She probably had a limited time before the adrenaline - both the natural and artificially delivered kinds - wore off. But surely she can find another Imperial before then, right? The rebels can’t have pushed them back that far?
She took a shaky breath before pushing herself up to stand. Her body felt too small - too weak. She shouldn’t be abandoning her Mech like this. She probably understands. She can’t move. She kept Her pilot safe. And besides, Bea will be back for Her, as soon as she can find a friend. Bea patted the sidearm on her hip to double check it was there, and then she pulled down the emergency release lever for the cockpit hatch, the heavy armoured door slowly swinging to the side. The cold air and smell of burnt metal hit Bea instantly as the seal was broken. She shielded her eyes when she stepped out, having to adjust for a moment to the brightness of the outside world.
When she could finally see, she realized where she was - a parking garage that her mech had slumped against in her final moment of main power. Or had she made it do that? She didn’t remember. Remembering never helped her anyway. But it was cold. Very cold. Bea thought she had been in a place this cold before. “Bad. Bad.” she scolded herself. Thinking didn’t matter. Especially when she’s lost. She has to get back to Handler. She pulled her old jacket tight as she began to walk towards a walled part of the garage that probably had a staircase, taking one last glance back at her mech before she opened the door.
The air was still bitter cold inside the structure, but at least there wasn’t any wind for the moment. Bea would let out a quiet sigh, and then start walking down the stairs. She knew she wasn’t likely to encounter anyone else on the staircase, but her hand stayed ready on the grip of her holstered service pistol. The odd explosion or gunfire shook the floor, but she could tell they weren’t too absolutely close. Probably.
Upon reaching the ground floor, Bea immediately made her way to the exit. Carefully, she’d push the door open and check outside before stepping out. Pristine white snow crunched under her boots while she looked up and down the street, standing in the shadow of her disabled mech. It took her a second to gather her bearings, but soon enough she began walking along the street towards where she had originally come from. Bea stuck close to the sides of buildings, but didn’t dare to try taking any of the alleys she passed. Sure, they provided more cover than the main roads, but the rebels knew this as well and she didn’t want to encounter them.
She passed massive shell casings and burnt out vehicles - some civilian, some military - as she walked. The cold nipped at her exposed hands and face, and her jacket didn’t offer much more protection, being an old light jacket instead of something designed for the winter. Bea never expected to have to bail, so she always wore what was comfortable for herself that Handler allowed.
Bea paused for a moment after passing a shop’s window display - having seen something that caught her attention. She took a few steps back, and then just gazed past the glass. It was a guitar store, with an expensive-looking acoustic guitar front and center in the display. It felt familiar. Maybe not that exact make of guitar, but it briefly stirred something in her mind. The Hound caught herself placing a hand on the glass, only snapping back to the situation at present when she felt the sharp coldness of the pane against her palm. She brought her hand, which was now noticeably paler than when she had left her mech, back to her side before muttering a quiet reprimand to herself. She didn’t need memories. She needed to get back to Handler.
So, she pushed on.
She could feel her stimulants starting to slowly wear off, the adrenaline especially. Her limbs felt sluggish and her mind even moreso. Still, she had to do it for Her. Bea lost track of which corners she went around or which street she followed, but she had to be closer to her allies, right? A couple times she took shelter in alleys to avoid being spotted by Rebel mechs, but they never seemed to be on the lookout for anyone in particular. Luckily it seemed like the majority of the fighting had moved away from where she had been shot down, for now at least.
Bea felt increasingly tired as her trudge through the snow continued, her breathing becoming more laboured with every city block she passed. Eventually, as she made her way down a main street, she’d see a group of soldiers off ahead of her. She darted into an alley yet again and fumbled for her sidearm, her hands shaking as her fingers wrapped around the grip. She hadn’t noticed until now that her hands had started turning an unpleasant shade of light blue. It stung to hold her handgun, and she didn’t even know if that group of soldiers were hostile or not. Her vision had been starting to grow blurry, and the only thing she made out were people holding rifles.
She could hear casual conversation and the crunch of snow under their boots as the squad got closer, but she couldn’t make out any particular accents or languages. She was scared, but they could be fellow imperials. Hopefully. Even if they weren’t, some traitorous part of her subconscious was glad she’d at least be out of the cold if she could get captured.
Bea took a deep breath, attempting to calm her nerves, before rounding the corner. But, any attempts at heroics or cowardice were cut short when her foot slipped out from under her and she fell face first into the snow. She attempted to get back up, but her body was reluctant to move. She heard surprised exclamations and orders from the soldiers, but they came across as muffled. She could only hope they were on her side as her body slipped into unconsciousness.
Leon was both relieved and a little bit terrified, watching one of his most recent captors stumbling out of view and, by the sounds of it, falling to the ground; after a metal bucket flew through the air and hit his head. A few moments later the fear turned to surprise when, instead of any of the other Kerle, Fabi stepped into the doorway.
Their emotions seemed to switch at a similar pace than his; from looking stressed and worried to, after seeing Leon just sitting on the ground, worried and angry. And after pulling out the gag and checking if he was fine, which he was, aside from a few bruises, to just anger.
„How do you keep getting yourself into this?“
„… Why do you all act like I get kidnapped on purpose?“ Leon was actually a little bit insulted by that. He wasn’t standing around and waiting, or even asking, for people to snatch him.
„Because the amount of times that you’re getting kidnapped is ridiculous! And you guys probably don’t even tell me about every time.“ Fabi pulled out their knife to cut the rope around his wrists. „At least try to do something about it…“
Yes, Leon was well aware that this was putting a lot of stress on his friends, brother and partner, but was he supposed to do about it? „What do you want me to do? Wear a shirt with ‚Please don’t kidnap me. My partner is going to be really pissed‘?“
Judging by their look, Fabi did not appreciate his sarcastic response and proceeded from freeing him to trapping him by grabbing his shoulders. „I don’t know. Carry a taser or pepper spray. So I don’t have to worry about you getting snatched up whenever you leave for any kind of trip…“
„You worry about me every time I leave you?“ Leon didn’t know that he was putting this much stress on them and he felt the tiniest bit insulted again. „I’m not a child, Fabi…“
Fabi looked at his slightly huffy expression and gave an exasperated sigh before giving him a kiss. „You’re lucky you’re cute and I’m stupid enough to commit to this…“ They pulled him to his feet and laid their head on his shoulder when he pulled them into hug.
„Am I really stressing you out so much…?“
„… Just take this seriously and try to not disappear every month, then I’ll be fine“
„… So you wouldn’t find it funny if I said that everyone wants me because I’m cute?“
well 👀 i did make a nsfw blog, no posts yet, but i do have drafts! was working on something last night teehee, but it’s so frustrating bc I’ll start an idea, get pretty far into it, but then the time is like 3am and my eyes are about to permanently close on me 😂 so it ends up in the drafts and I don’t touch it afterwards 😩 we’ll see what happens tho! if I do post I’ll be sure to let everyone know where to find it! <3333
summery: Sokka gets a concerning phone call from his girlfriend after work.
a/n: so I didn’t die- but in all seriousness, life has been life-ing and time matches on. But I got inspired and ofc I had to write it out. And ofc the subject had to be my most favorite fictional boyfriend! I know it’s short but I hope you guys love it just as much as I do! <;3
“Hey,” Macie sniffled into the phone and Sokka frowned as he got into his truck, work had just ended and he had been looking forward to going home and taking a nap, just like everyday. But he’s gotten a call as he was walking out of the yard and he’d answered as fast as he could when he’d seen that it was his girlfriend. “Macie, babe? What’s up? Is everything ok?” His voice was laced with concern. She just sniffled again and then whimpered.
“Can you come to the Citgo? Please, it’s just been a day.” She sounded so broken down. He didn’t even really have to think about it, he told he’s be there in five and hung up. He tore out of the parking lot as fast as he could and hurried onto the side street that would bring him to the closest gas station in town. At took him two minutes to get there, his record. He seen her car sitting in the very back and he pulled in next to her and got out.
It took her a minute but she got out and just looked at him. She had tears and mascara running down her reddened cheeks and bloodshot eyes. She looked so sad and in that moment his heart broke a little. He loved her so much and seeing her like that hurt him. “What’s wrong, my love?” He wrapped his arms around her and she smushed her face in his chest with a sob. He ran a hand over her hair in an attempt to soothe her but she didn’t know if it was working or not.
After a few minutes of him just holding her and telling her he had her and that she’d be ok, she finally looked at him with a sniffle. “Sorry,” she mumbled softly. He just shook his head and cupped her cheeks in his hands. “No, baby, no. You don’t have to apologize for needing to cry.” She just looked at him for a second and then blinked away the tears that were threatening to fall. “Well,” she sniffled again and he wiped her cheeks with his thumbs and waited.
“It’s just been a really long week.” She looked away from him and at a tree nearby. “Just… life has been kicking my ass and I don’t know what to do.” He nodded and she pressed her cheek to his chest with a sigh, relishing the feeling. His hands ran up and down her back as she rambled on about she was so thankful he’d taken time out of his day to come see her. He’d told her it wasn’t a problem but she didn’t really believe him. Nevertheless, she was glad she could say that she had a good man. He truly would put anything on hold for her and she couldn’t ask for a better person to be her boyfriend.
Since his arrest and subsequent lenient sentencing, due to insufficient evidence and a good word from Wonder Woman, Maxwell Lord had worked with her during his community service.
Despite everything she had heard, she found him to be humble and sweet. A love of movies and music had sparked a friendship between them. One that grew so strong, it led to him being able to let himself into her apartment when he was worried about her. The place was untidy, not at all like her. He called to her, following her voice to you bedroom. He found her laying on her bed. Concern filing him. "Are you ill?"
"No, I'm fine." She looked up at him with a tired smile.
"You are clearly not. I'll look after you." Without waiting for a response, he left to tidy up and make her something to eat. She had noticed that acts of service were his love language, now that he had lost his money. She could imagine him to be quite different before. The was a uncertainty beneath his confident, charming facade from the begin. A need for approval, easy to just buy when you are wealthy.
He returned to her side with a tray filled with lunch and today's mail."Tell me what you need."
"I just feel...sad. Just this last week or so. It sounds weird but am okay with it, it's just something that's pulling at me. Like it's under the surface of my thoughts all the time. Am tired of fighting it so am just giving into it for a while. Am just going to feel it. I'll be fine."
Max was stumped. It wasn't like he hadn't been sad in his life. His childhood was filled with sadness but that's what drove him. It pushed him to better himself. He channelled it, funneled it into something productive. It haunted him as an adult. He ran from it, buried it, suppressed it, replaced it with a layer of confidence and charm. He kept it at bay with distraction, his business, his plans. He filled the hole it made with whatever he could buy.
All this time it never occurred to him to just feel it. He put down the tray. "Can I...how do I just feel it?"
"Here." Shuffling over she patted the bed next to her.
He hesitated for a moment before slipping his shoes off and getting on the bed next to her. Both of them lay curled on their sides, facing each other.
"Now just let go. Let yourself feel heavy in the bed. Feel whatever it is that's gnawing at you."
Taking a deep breath and releasing it he settled down in the bed. Then he felt it, his childhood, the shadow of all the abuse, the rejections. The feeling of not being good enough, in business, in his marriage, for his son. That one stung the most. Tears welled in his eyes. Her soft, warm hand delicately brushed the hair from his face. "It's ok Max. Feel it. Let it go."
And he did, he stopped fighting against the undercurrent, it pulled him down and washed over him. He sobbed freely as she pulled him to her chest. Her chin resting on his head. Her hands rubbing his back and smoothing his hair soothingly. She held him like this, in silence, until the flow of tears subsided.
Pressing a small kiss to his forehead, one that he would forever treasure, she spoke quietly "There. Better?" Oddly enough he did feel better, as if a great pressure had been released, like a dam bursting. The sadness lingered but as she said, he was okay with it. He didn't feel the need to fight it. He just let it sit with him.
"Thank you." He leaned over barely brushed his lips to hers before they both puckered their lips into a chaste kiss. Neither of them felt the need to comment on it. That was something that could be unpacked another day. Another thing that swam under the surface, another thing they would just have to feel.
