Sanemi

vivi u talk about leon's fingers non-stop i'm surprised you haven't written about them 😘

fingers ౨ৎ leon s kennedy x f!reader

𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄 || shhh don't expose me.... this was in my drafts for a while :3

𝐁𝐄𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃 || nsfw, female reader, established marriage (leon has a wedding band on his finger 🤭 but it's not explicitly called one so up to imagination ig), not proofread, not read by betas, written in a few minutes

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 || fingering (obviously), pwp, use of pet names (princess, baby, sweet girl), edging, cursing

𝐗𝐎𝐗𝐎 || leon s kennedy mlist | wc 316 🎀 @starzu

"l-leon..." you whimpered at his swift movements. leon's thick middle finger thrusted in and out of your sopping hole. you sat with your nude back against his broad chest, your thighs spread wide across his lap as his hand played with you. leon's muscular arm wrapped around your stomach, resting on your ribs. "my sweet lil' baby.." leon chuckled as he continued abusing your pussy with his digits. your eyes were wet with tears from what felt like hours of being edged. so much for a normal movie night.

"please..." you whined as his thumb circled your clit. leon smirked as you leaned your head on his shoulder to look at his face. "such a pitiful face. well. since my sweet girl asked..." he spoke softly. leon pushed in his ring finger and you gasped softly at the feeling of the cold metal on his finger. you cried out as he thrusted a bit faster and applied more pressure to your throbbing clit. you velvety walls clamped down on his rough fingers and your eyes rolled back.

"leon.. yes..." you whimpered. he added a third finger, his index finger. he smiled at you as your mouth fell open, releasing a melody of broken cries and whines. leon's other hand snaked to your breast, tweaking your perky nipples. you felt his cock becoming hard through his sweatpants. leon's plump lips kissed your neck softly as you cried out loudly, your juices gushing against his fingers and soaking the fabric of his sweatpants and your thighs.

you're small hands came to cover your face out of embarrassment. "fuck princess..." leon admired your body. you rested against his arm and sighed, closing your eyes. they reopened curiously as leon shifted you off his lap and onto the sofa. he was fumbling with his pants to pull them down enough to get his dick out. "what? thought we were done?"

🎀 reblogs and replies always appreciated xoxo <3

Veneration (Sanemi x F!Reader)

Good morning

Bundle of Joy one-shot featuring what Sanemi promised Y/N at the end of The Thing About Genya.

⚠️NSFW⚠️

CW: sanemi’s big ol’ breeding kink, creampies, Sanemi is a fuckin SIMP for his wife.

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“Fuck,” Sanemi growled, his hips setting a steady pace against his wife as his balls slapped languidly against the sumptuous curve of her ass. “Fuck, Y/N. You feel so fuckin’ good for me, baby.”

Y/N could only give a muffled groan in response as her husband’s cock dragged luridly in and out of her soaking heat, her face buried in the blankets now piled in a messy heap on the couple’s bed.

Sanemi chuckled, dark and sensual as he snapped his hips a little harder against her, knees nearly buckling as his wife’s cunt seized on him like a vice. “I don’t know how you expect me to not get you pregnant again,” he huffed, bringing a hand up to lightly slap his wife’s ass as it bounced against him. “Not when you’re gripping me this tight, darlin’.”

He’d already taken her twice since they’d been left alone, their daughter happily entertaining all three of Uzui’s wives as they’d walked off with her, knowing smiles on their faces.

Y/N had barely been able to slide the door of their manor shut before Sanemi had gently pushed her against the wall, got down on his knees, and feasted on her until she was practically doubled over his shoulder, begging for a break after he had pulled her third orgasm from her with just his tongue and fingers.

She’d tried to insist on returning the favor, lowering herself down to eye-level with his aching cock, but a hand under her chin had stopped her, forcing her to rise back up.

So Y/N’s “break” consisted of the time it took for Sanemi to scoop her up and carry her into their bedroom, where he’d thrown her up onto a dresser and slid into her welcoming and heavenly core.

Y/N muttered something incomprehensible into the bed. Sanemi gave her the courtesy of grabbing a fistful of her hair to pull her head up from the folds of the futon. “You’ll have to repeat yourself, sweetheart,” he cooed, “I didn’t catch that.”

Y/N moaned his name in response and Sanemi swelled with pride; he loved that he was the man — the only man — who would ever get to make his beautiful wife feel this intoxicated on his body.

“I said I want another baby,” she finally managed, her head falling back down against the sheets as she greedily pressed her hips back to meet Sanemi’s bruising thrusts.

Sanemi’s pace slowed to a near stop. Y/N groaned in complaint, swiveling her hips demandingly against him, urging him to move, but Sanemi’s grip on her hips stilled her.

“Y/N. Are you serious?” His voice was husky and low from his pleasure, but he knew he’d need to confirm that what she was asking for was her true will and not the product of being fucked absolutely senseless.

Y/N nodded into the pillow she’d been gripping. “I was going to talk to you about it the second Uzui’s wives left but you were too impatient,” she rocked her hips back against his in desperation, Sanemi’s fingers digging into the plump curve of her ass. “I didn’t take my medication today just in case.”

Sanemi’s heart thudded against his chest, as he remained silent for a moment.

Y/N’s eyes widened softly as she lifted her head to look back at her husband. “Sanemi, if you’re not ready, we can stop until I get my medication — oh.”

Sanemi renewed the thrust of his cock with vigor, gripping Y/N’s hips in his hands and half-pulling her up off the bed as he got into a squat, plunging into her faster and deeper than before. Y/N could do nothing but hold onto her blankets and for dear life.

“Fuckin’ hell sweetheart,” Sanemi grunted, “you shoulda said something sooner.” The sound of Sanemi lewdly pistoning in her sopping heat was drowned out by the new screams from Y/N, as Sanemi’s angle allowed him to repeatedly hit that spot in her that made her see stars.

“I’ll put as many kids in ya as you want.” He promised, nearly standing on the couple’s futon as he dragged Y/N’s lower hips with him. “You say the word, and I’ll provide.”

Sanemi suddenly pulled out and Y/N nearly screamed in frustration as her climax slipped away from her.

“Sorry baby,” though her husband didn’t sound like he was sorry at all. “But I wanna see your face when I knock you up again.”

With one strong arm wrapped around her middle, the Wind Hashira flipped his wife over so that she was facing him.

He pressed her against the futon, trailing his lips teasingly from her neck to her breasts, nipping and sucking at her soft mounds until he’d thoroughly marked them, before continuing down to her stomach.

His lips met where she’d carried their daughter and he shivered at the thought of seeing her full of another one of his children.

“I fuckin worship you, you know that?” He asked her as he knelt back on his knees and tugged her lower half until it lay flush against his thighs, her legs lying limply on either side of him. He lifted her hips enough to slide into her once more, his position allowing him a new, deeper angle and the perfect view of Y/N’s face as she cried out his name, her tits beginning to bounce as he started to thrust.

“Sanemi,” she moaned, and she sounded on the verge of tears. “Please, I’m so close.”

Sanemi Shinazugawa was not a cruel man, and fatherhood had arguably made him ever softer for the two women in his life. He could not deny the love of his life the chance to come apart all around his cock, especially when she looked so fucking beautiful taking him the way she was, when she was begging him to give her another child.

So Sanemi gripped one of her legs in his hand, tucking it securely around his waist as he then moved his fingers to toy with his wife’s sensitive clit.

“Fuck, sweetheart, you’re so fuckin wet for me,” he moaned, savoring the way her slick coated his fingers instantly, as he pressed this index finger against her, swirling softly.

Y/N could not answer, too lost in her pleasure as Sanemi increased his pace, half-pushing them up the bed with his force as he pressed down sharply on her sensitive bundle of nerves.

Y/N bowed off the bed, her walls gripping him so tightly it was nearly painful through the force of her climax, his name falling in a choked scream from her lips.

Sanemi knew he was close the moment he felt his wife’s sticky release coat his groin, his balls painfully tight as they slapped against the underside of Y/N’s ass as she collapsed back against the bed, too fucked out to do anything more than mewl and whimper as he chased his own release.

Gingerly, Sanemi felt his wife’s fingers close around one of the hands he had braced on her hips, and he watched in amazement as she brought it up to rest on her neck.

“Shit,” Sanemi cursed at her silent request. “Shit, baby, yes.” Gently, Sanemi wrapped his hand around her throat, his fingers squeezing softly along the sides of her neck.

“Fill me up, Sanemi,” she whispered, voice hoarse from screaming, and the grip around her neck tightened ever so slightly as Sanemi began to lose control.

“You’re not walkin’ out of this room until you’re good and pregnant again,” he promised darkly, lust taking him over as his pace quickened.

Sanemi felt the coil in his stomach tighten, the familiar fire of his impending release surging along his spine. His wife’s eyes were rolled back from a mixture of pleasure and overstimulation as the sound of her squelching cunt threatened to drown out her moans.

He was at his edge. “Y/N, look at me,” he growled, and when his wife opened her hazy eyes to meet his lustful gaze, Sanemi was a goner.

Sanemi’s hips slammed once more into his wife and stilled. With a shout, he came harder than he ever had before, vision going white as he pumped into her, his seed spilling forcefully into her greedy core. Somewhere, in the haze of his pleasure, he remembered to rock against her slowly to prolong his release.

After what felt like several moments of him emptying himself within her, Sanemi collapsed on top of his wife, but rolled with her to his side so as not to crush her.

He brought her head to his chest, scarred hand jumping to her hair to smooth over it comfortingly as they panted.

“I love you, you know that?” He murmured into her hair, between the press of his lips against her head.

Y/N’s fingers traced lazy patterns across his pectorals and upper abdomen as she caught her breath. “Someone is eager to get me knocked up again, isn’t he?” She laughed breathily as her chest slowed.

Sanemi smiled against her hair. “Can’t help it. Love seeing you pregnant. Love even more that you let me get you pregnant — that you want my kids.”

Y/N tilted her face up, demanding a kiss and Sanemi was only too happy to oblige her, bringing his hand to cup the side of her face as he pressed his lips against hers, slow and sweet.

Somehow, she’d found herself beneath him once more, the weight of Sanemi’s body against hers making her body heat with renewed want.

Y/N groaned again as she felt her lover’s still-hard cock prodding at her slick, abused folds once more, waiting for her signal. She nodded her assent, stretching up for her love to hold her close as he slid into her once more.

“Ha—there we go, baby,” he moaned, and the sound of his needy desperation made her clench around him once more.

“You can take one more load, can’t you, my love?” Sanemi buried his face into Y/N’s luscious breasts as his arms caged around her waist, holding him impossibly tight against him. “Gotta make sure I give my sweet girl what she wants.”

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Barking, screaming, crying

I'm thinking about retired D.S.O. Agent and now househusband!Leon S. Kennedy, who's always keeping the house and the garden in check. You come home from work to be greeted by a fervent kiss, seeing your man wearing his signature long-sleeved button shirt with the sleeves rolled up, black pants, and an apron tied around his waist like he's the epitome of sex and god in one.

He leads you by the bathroom to where he drew you a warm bubble bath to soothe out the stress and muscle tensions away. His hands immediately peeling off your clothes, helping you get on tub as he starts shampooing your hair and scrubbing your skin gently with your favorite scented body wash while he massages you.

Leon's an excellent cook, it's a basic survival skill that he has perfected ever since he graduated from the police academy. You can see the way how he plates every dish beautifully, right amount of spice and flavor, ensuring that you're always fulfilled.

Leon wakes up early in the morning for a jog, returning home with a bag of groceries as he starts preparing breakfast. He'll always wake you up with a kiss or more, before setting up a tray to have breakfast in bed complete with a small flower vase just as you've always had it.

Leon who intentionally wears deliciously tight-fitting shirts just to entice you, catching you gawk at him shamelessly but he doesn't mind. It means that he's only your's and you're only his.

His hugs are comforting like a teddy bear keeping you snug and warm for the rest of the day. His touches are familiar, tracing every inch and line of your skin, feeling all of you. His kisses are lingering, taking it slow to ensure that he can taste you thoroughly, there's never a day without his kisses.

And of course, he never lets you leave home for work without hickeys and bites littered around your skin, your nipples swelling and puffy, and not without his hot cum plugged up inside of you, giving him the satisfaction that he successfully bred you, keeping your tummy full and whole of his seed.

just can't get enough part2

part 1/series masterlist

Pairing; Rookie!virgin!Leon S Kennedy x fem reader

Summary; Leon's fresh out of the academy and into the Raccoon City police department-and he's still a virgin. Not only that, but he has almost no idea what what sex even is. Then he meets you, and his body starts wanting things. Or, the second 3 stages of Leon Kennedy learning about his body.

Warnings; no age in ur bio? bitch blocked! 18+ or tyrant will fuk u up! uhhh let's see. boners boners boners, ill timed/awkward boners, fantasising, masturbation (male), porn watching, creampie in porn lol, pillow humping 👀, handjobs, first kisses, spit as lubrication, drinking (sexual participants are sober),

(a/n) okay so!! here it is!! long awaited!! very long! smutty! angsty!! fluffy! everything baby!!!! everyone is so ooc!! it's a thing! leon is 21, this is a modern au, reader is like 20/21, everyone else is in their 20/s! also im like so fucking proud of this i am desperate for feedback yes i will beg. im unsure about the last few thousand words bcus i don't know what you guys will make of the smut i did but yknow. it's done now !

Word Count; 15.7k

stage 4

Leon figured that going to the station early would give him time to prepare himself to see you, but he should have figured that the universe wouldn’t be so kind. 

Because as soon as he opens the door he can hear you and Chris talking and laughing.

“Of course I don’t Chris-”

“You don’t?”

“I don’t why would I-”

“I do-”

“No one does-”

Leon walks a little further into the station, into the bullpen to see you perched on Chris’ desk with your feet resting on the edge of his chair seat between his thighs. Neither of you are even looking at each other, instead both of your eyes are glued to your hands where you’re chaotically playing some sort of pat-a-cake game, hands smacking together and echoing around the almost empty room. Leon’s stomach lurches unsettlingly at how comfortable you are with Chris, perfectly happy to sit so close to him and touch him and play games with him and-

Stop it. Chris is a friend and coworker, stop overreacting over his friendship with a woman I’ve barely become friends with myself. Stop. It.  

“They absolutely do-”

“I’m telling you they don’t-”

“Well what’s your least favorite?”

“If I don’t have a favorite why would I have a least favorite?”

Chris grins as both your hands speed up and you laugh loudly. 

“Well maybe you really dislike one but don’t care so much about the others?” 

“You have put way too much thought into this, Redfield, I’m telling you no one-”

“Rookie!” 

Leon blinks at Chris, who’s hands are still moving against yours as he sees him in the doorway. Somehow the pat-a-cake game is still going strong even without Chris paying any attention, and Leon watches your brow furrow as you try and concentrate on your hands. 

Leon just hums in response to Chris as he moves toward his desk. He tries not to stare at the way your skirt is resting just above your knees due to how your feet are perching on Chris’ chair. He fails, obviously, and recognises the same twinge of need he felt all last night at the sight of so much skin on show. 

“That’s not his name-”

Leon drops the pen he’s picking up as he realises you’re talking about him. 

“Yes it is-Rookie. Rookie Kennedy-”

“Don’t be so prickly-”

“Calling me a prick sweetheart?”

“No, but I can if you’d like-”

“Maybe I would like-”

You laugh again, tipping your head back and losing the pattern with Chris’ hands. Leon swallows uncomfortably at the conversation, pretending to find something in his desk drawers so he can attempt to ignore what sounds like you flirting. With someone who is most definitely not him. 

He pauses his movements for a split second as he realises that it’s not like he’d know how to flirt back anyway, before resuming and flicking his eyes away from where Chris is still making you laugh, still moving his hands toward you even as you try and bat them away. 

As he settles into his chair, Chris turns to him while continuing to play pat-a-cake with whichever limb of yours he comes into contact with. 

“Cmon then Rookie-”

“Not-hey!-not his name!”

“You’re so ignorant sweetheart of course it is-but go on then what’s your name?”

Leon opens his mouth confusedly for a second before furrowing his brow and replying. 

“…Leon?”

“See he said it himself it’s rookie-”

“You’re the worst-”

“Oh you love it-”

He watches as you manage to grab Chris’ hands and hold them still, throat feeling uncomfortably tight at the sight.

“Only sometimes, sweetheart, but cmon then ask Leon-”

Please stop please stop. If this is flirting I do not want to hear it I never want to hear this again. 

“Fine fine-which toe is your favourite?”

Leon blinks in surprise again. 

“Which what?”

“See!!! I TOLD you no one has a favourite toe!”

“You wound me sweetheart-”

“I’m gonna kick you in the bloody nuts in a second just you wait-”

A sickening feeling settles in Leon’s stomach as he watches you and Chris, still holding his hands in yours, laugh and joke and flirt. Some part of him he doesn’t recognise wants to walk over and rip Chris away from you, wants to tug on your knees and make room for his hips between them, pull you into him and-

That’s new. 

He can feel his face heat as he jerks himself out of his fantasy and sees you both looking over at him. A wave of shame rushes through him as he looks at you, sees the way you have the hint of a smile on your face as you wait for his answer and try to keep Chris in line, sees how your skirt has ridden up a little more. He shuffles forward in his chair under the desk a little. 

“You want to know what my favorite toe is? On me or in general?”

Chris guffaws at that and you seem to be hiding a grin, to which Leon has no idea what he said that’s so funny. 

“On you mate, we don’t need to know if you have a foot fetish or not-”

Foot fetish?? Have to Google that later. 

“Oh be nice Redfield-he’s probably confused because it’s such a stupid question-”

Leon smiles a little at the clear derision in your voice, and your mocking look toward Chris-and a little at your defensiveness of him. 

She didn’t just talk about me she didn’t just say my name it’s more she did more than that-

He scratches at stubble that isn’t there to hide his smile. Prays and prays and prays you’ll just get up, walk out and not speak to him the rest of the day. Fucking prays his body will behave.

“Okay well…I guess I don’t particularly have a favourite toe? Its-I don’t know I’ve never thought about it that much?”

His eyes dart between you and Chris as he slowly answers, seeing you nod happily at him and seeing Chris smile smugly. You turn back to the officer and narrow your eyes at him. 

“What are you so smug about? Don’t like that look-”

A laugh, a hand resting on your thigh. 

“Nonsense sweetheart you love my looks-”

Stop it stop it fucking stop it-

“Claire’s popping over today I’m gonna-”

“Don’t you tell-”

“-I’m gonna tell her I’m totally gonna tell her-”

Chris groans at that, slumps forward until his chin is resting on your knees and Leon’s fist clenches under his desk, nails digging into his palm and arm trembling. 

“You’re so mean to me-”

“Don’t you love it?”

“-yeah I do but you can’t tell-”

“Hey that’s on you-you promised not to flirt with Claire’s friends and now you’re literally working your way between my legs right this second-”

That elicits a grumble from him as he hooks his arms around your calves and hugs you to him. 

One of your hands rests lightly on Chris’ head, patting a few times as you coo gently but with a teasing smile on your face. There’s nothing that can stop Leon from picturing your fingers combing through his hair just then, no way he can help the way he hardens a little as he fantasises about him in Chris’ position, head perfectly positioned between your legs and your hand tugging on his hair as you lay back. He digs his nails harder into his palm, tries to ground himself as his mind conjures up the image he saw on his laptop the night before, of the woman with her legs open and maybe you could do that maybe you could let Leon see you like that-

He absentmindedly flicks his tongue out over his bottom lip and immediately has to clench his jaw to stop a whimper escaping, suddenly just thinking about if you’d let him put his mouth on you. 

He’d read about that briefly last night, not thought too much of it but now, Jesus Christ he’s salivating at the thought of giving you the same pleasure he can’t stop thinking about. 

Chris is muttering something to you as his cheek smushes against your knee and you’re laughing softly about whatever it is, still patting his hair lightly and Leon just feels so angry. 

Angry it’s not him, angry you’re so comfortable with Chris, angry he still doesn’t know enough, angry that even if he was ever in a position to please you he probably wouldn’t be able to. 

A burst of voices sounds just outside the bullpen and a quick glance to the clock on the wall tells Leon his workday has only just started. Brilliant. Barely on the clock and you’ve already chipped away at his sanity-as if the last two weeks weren’t hard enough. No pun intended, he thinks wryly.

You do manage to get a smile out of him though, when you hear the voices as well and switch from gently petting Chris’ hair to smacking his cheek harshly a couple of times, drawing him out of his pleasant doze on your legs. 

Leon licks his lips quickly as you hop off the desk, landing gracefully and tugging your skirt down, the picture of professionalism once more. It’s just so inviting, the way you pull at the hem of the material, how it slides so nicely over your skin and he wants to follow it with his hands-he can feel his mouth salivate at the thought of tracing it with his tongue. Pushing the material up and kissing along the same path as you grip his hair.

As you turn to pick some papers and files back up from Chris’ desk, Leon wonders what he’d actually do between your thighs. 

It’s a bad idea, because his pants instantly feel uncomfortably tight-but he can’t stop. It’s too tempting, imagining what you might like him to do with his fingers and his mouth.

Would you be as sensitive as he felt last night? Would you make the same kind of noises? Does it feel the same for you when you come? 

With a start, he realises that the nails he’s been digging into his palm are actually getting rather deep-and rather painful. Relaxing his hand, he looks down at the crescent shaped marks in his skin and flexes his fingers a little.

His mind flashes to the articles he read and his hand stops moving abruptly, body shocked with the thought that as well as his cock, his fingers and his tongue could be inside you, wring pleasure from you that way. His member throbs intensely as he fantasises about your body, until a burst of guilt puts an end to it. Shouts at him that it will never happen, and it’s unlikely he’d ever please you anyway. Screams that Chris probably could, that you’re already comfortable with him and flirt with him and he probably knows how to please a woman, knows how to use his fingers in just the right way to make you gasp and moan and writhe-

Clenching his jaw, he stands up from his desk suddenly. 

His chair screeches as it gets pushed back and Chris sends him a surprised, amused look, to which Leon stares back and fumbles for a reason for a second.

“I-sorry, you-dyou want a coffee?”

His voice starts surprisingly high pitched and breaks part way through his sentence, making him flush bright red. Thankfully, Chris doesn’t say anything-he does look like he’s about to burst into laughter though.

He shakes his head a little at Leon’s fumbled question, and watches curiously as the rookie officer walks briskly toward the breakroom. 

Automatically, Leon switches the coffee machine on when he enters, even though he has no desire for one, and leans his hands on the counter, screwing his eyes shut as he tries to bury the need rising in him. 

Idiot idiot idiot so fucking stupid should have known of course I should have known it would get worse stupid fucking-

Breathing deeply, he presses the heels of his hands into his eyes and rubs at them roughly, seeing stars but still going, somehow trying to wipe away the desire eating at him. 

All of a sudden the pleasure he felt last night and the knowledge he now has doesn’t seem worth it, it seems more like some kind of cruel curse. 

When his vision gets spotty and his head starts to hurt he takes his hands away to grab at the coffee decanter, sighing frustratedly at the turmoil of recent days. 

He shouldn’t have looked up anything.

He shouldn’t have tried to figure out what was happening to his body, he shouldn’t have touched himself, he shouldn't have done a goddamn thing. There’s some sort of pit opening in his stomach, some uncrossable chasm of regret and shame that swallows him up, makes him realise that from now on he’s just going to be haunted by the image of things he’ll never do. 

Before it was just confusion, the occasional feeling of longing thrumming in his bones, but now there’s so much desperation in him, so much need and want and desire that it seems as though he’ll never fulfil.

He feels somewhat hollow, like he already had a hole in himself and he’s only just looked in the mirror to see it. Or as though you’ve just pointed it out, plunged your hand in and cooed softly at him, let him know how much he’s missing out on. Gently taken his hand and made him feel the space, feel that chasm and how nothing is going to fill it. 

Leon brushes a hand over his stomach, needing to confirm he’s not actually missing a part of himself. 

Walking back to his desk, he notices Chris watching him out the corner of his eye. His gaze slides off of him though, and they both pretend like nothing happened. 

-

Mercifully, the captain keeps you busy for the rest of the day and Leon’s body stays somewhat under control. Somewhat, as in he spends most of the day with a semi just from the memory or your skirt riding up your legs, but he settles into an understanding with the ache he now feels. Decides he’ll probably just learn to live with it, as he learned to live with his ignorance before.

Though as everyone grabs their stuff to head out at the end of the day, things get worse again.

So, so much worse.

You come skidding into the bullpen, crashing into Chris’ torso and rubbing your nose before realising who it is and letting out some kind of excited squeal, wrapping your arms around him and hugging him tight. 

Chris stumbles back a little under your enthusiasm, but soon grins widely and drops his bag to wrap his arms around you, resting his chin on your head. 

Leon looks away, feeling the chasm widen.

And then you’re laughing, taking a few big steps toward him and-

He doesn’t know what to do for a few seconds. He’s hugged people, sure, but this is different. It’s you and it’s his newfound knowledge, it’s the fact he’s not wearing a vest just a button up uniform shirt, the fact that your blouse is so fucking thin.

It’s the fact that he can feel every inch of your arms wrapped around his torso, hands pressed into his back and settled so perfectly there like that’s where they should always be. More than anything, it’s the fact that your breasts are pressing against his chest so enticingly, pushed up a little in your bra and so fucking soft and squishy and-

Shit shit shit not right now please no stop it stop that this is not the time down please down down down-

God himself couldn’t have stopped Leon from getting a boner just then-and his most ill timed to date, he thinks. 

Thinking he might as well just curl up into a ball and die, he attempts to pull his hips back a little and angle his pelvis away from you, praying his member won’t brush against your hip as he moves because then things might get a whole lot more disastrous. 

Breathing in deeply (and cursing whatever shampoo you use because it just smells so fucking good he wants to push his hips into you and grab your waist and-and do something), he lifts his arms slightly, thinking he might just be able to manage touching you a little more even though it’s definitely a terrible idea. 

Before he can move more than a few inches though, you’re pulling back, rocking forward to plant a quick kiss on his cheek before brushing past him toward another officer. 

You leave him feeling bereft, empty and cold and hard as a goddamn rock when you move. He blinks rapidly for a few seconds, lips parting as he tries to figure out what just happened and how he can subdue his body’s reaction.

Chris appears as his saviour though, slipping a random file into his hands and pushing it down over his crotch as he claps his other hand onto Leon’s shoulder. His cheeks flare in embarrassment as he grips the file and moves back to lean on a random desk.

“Some kind of promotion apparently, dunno what it involves but she seems excited-but uh, seem to remember you looking uninterested last week when I said she was pretty-changed your mind have you rookie?”

Chris grins and winks as he finishes his question, patting Leon’s shoulder a couple more times before strolling over to you again and sliding a hand onto your back. It muddles Leon’s mind a little, blurs his thoughts as he tries to work through the arousal running rampant in his body, the embarrassment of Chris seeing and the jealousy at his hand on your back. Too much, way too much.

A few minutes later, after listening to your laughs and watching you smile and lean into Chris and be infuriatingly yourself, Leon watches you and a few other officers grab your bags and start heading toward the door. 

“Cmon we’re doing drinks tonight, you coming Leon?”

It makes his heart thump loudly when he registers that you’ve asked him something-that you’ve asked him to join you for drinks together. Okay, maybe not quite like that. 

Maybe you did just ask if he was joining the general group for general drinks at a general bar, but you said it! You mentioned it, you asked if he was joining. Do you want him to join? Do you want him to come with you? Do you want to have drinks with him?? 

With a jolt, Leon realises that no matter who just asked him what, he’s having dinner with Ethan tonight.

Having some probably mediocre food with an old friend he’s hung out with a million times instead of going out for some nice drinks with the woman who has single handedly turned his life upside down in the best way possible.

Yay.

Not that he doesn’t want to see Ethan-far from it actually it’s been a few weeks and he’s got some mysterious new girlfriend, Mia. 

It’s odd, going from seeing him every day in the academy and practically living on top of each other to only having the same free time maybe once every month or so. Another change that’s jarred Leon over the last couple of weeks, pulled him out of his comfortable life and left him stranded like some sort of puppy who’s been lost in the rain for too long.

It would be an odd comparison to make of himself if he hadn’t literally been told that that’s exactly what he looks like. A wet dog, looking for his owner. He hadn’t really known how to respond to the superior who said that. Still doesn’t know what to make of it, actually. 

Frowning, Leon finally locks eyes with you and shakes his head lightly. Your smile drops a little and he almost shoots up off the desk to apologise, but instead he just grimaces, tells you he has dinner plans and gives you a wobbly smile in apology. 

“Well, it’s a shame-I would have liked you to be there-but see you Monday!”

Before he can respond, you grab your jacket from next to the door and follow some other officers out, just leaving him leaning on the desk and Chris picking up his bag. He thinks this must be what whiplash feels like, the anger at you and Chris flirting, the emptiness and longing, the arousal from your touch, the disappointment at not being available and then the utter confusion at your reply. 

Are you being polite? Or do you actually want him there??

Leon has no idea which one he’d rather, which would be easier for him. 

He’s jerked out of his strange trance, staring at the space you were standing in, when Chris chuckles quietly, shrugs the bag over his shoulder and grins at Leon again. 

“All been there mate, best get it under control since you work with her everyday now-” 

And of course his cheeks flush brightly again. Of course he can’t behave naturally whatsoever anymore.

Traitorous body.

-

stage 5

Leon finds himself joining Ethan and Mia at some diner a few streets away, where old music is playing and the booths are striped red and white. The lighting is warm and cosy, beaming out into the already darkening city and drawing him in.

His friend already has a drink in front of him and is laughing at something a dark haired girl is saying-Mia, he presumes, and he slides into their booth with a smile on his face.

While he can’t stop thinking about the fact he could be sitting in a bar booth with you right now, side pressed against side, thigh pushing against yours as he watches you get tipsy and free from alcohol, he can’t deny that he’s been looking forward to this. To seeing a familiar, friendly face from his past while his life feels so chaotic and out of control. So messy.

Ethan greets him enthusiastically and introduces him to Mia, who seems lovely and very affectionate toward Ethan, if not somewhat reserved in general. Leon forces himself to think reserved and not secretive, scolding himself for his ‘cop brain’ as Chris called it the other day. The suspicion of everyone and everything. Just reserved.

Leon orders a chocolate milkshake (with cream and a flake on top, excitingly) and a burger and fries-eliciting a ‘classic’ from Mia and a ‘boring’ from Ethan. He learns happily that Ethan is doing well in his station, and that Mia works in…accounts. Generic…accounts. She waves off Leon’s questions by telling him how boring it is really, she’d like to know more about him as a matter of fact!

She asks if he’s seeing anyone, places her hand over Ethan’s and squeezes his fingers as she raises her eyebrows questioningly at Leon, who swallows nervously. 

He can say it right? You don’t know either of them, and Mia doesn’t know anything about Leon so it should be fine? Right?

With a fleeting thought of the longing inside him, the ache he keeps feeling, he suddenly blurts it out. 

“There’s a girl on the-she works the front desk in the-at my station-and she’s-she’s really pretty-”

He clamps his mouth shut after that, pressed his lips together as his face heats and he pretends to be interested by his milkshake. When he glances up, Mia is looking happily at him, apparently entertained by his loving word vomit-and Ethan’s jaw is a little slack, eyebrows raised as he watches Leon. 

His heart is beating uncomfortably fast, thumping against his ribcage as he waits for his friend to speak. Ethan, being the only person who knows about Leon’s lack of experience, appears to recognise how big of a deal this is for him. Leon waits for him to say something, wonders if he’s close enough with Mia that he’s shared everything already, if he’s going to have no problems asking if Leon has finally had sex. 

To be fair to Ethan, he doesn’t quite know about Leon’s lack of knowledge, just that he hasn’t done anything-a slip of the tongue tipped his friend off in their first year at the academy and Leon made sure he did not do the same in front of anyone else. One close friend knowing that he’s a virgin is very different from the rest of his peers finding out. 

Ethan closes his mouth finally and nods a little at Leon, a growing smile on his face as he steals some of Mia’s fries. 

“Alright then mate, I’m glad to hear it-what’s she like?”

The tightness in Leon’s chest eases, weight lifting off of him at the question and he relaxes into the booth. Smiles and can’t stop the words spilling out, not now that he’s finally said it, finally told someone. He can’t stop telling them about how friendly you are with everyone, actually friends with the officers rather than just coworkers, how you don’t treat them like less just because they’re not detectives or inspectors, how lovely you were when you welcomed him to the station, how you were so quick to pull him into the group of officers for drinks, how you happily flirt and go straight back to being professional in two seconds flat, how you even invited him out tonight!!!

He doesn’t realise how excited he’s gotten until he finishes and settles back, lets his hands fall back to the table from where he was animatedly gesturing, doesn’t realise how much he’s smiling until he registers the ache in his cheeks. 

-

Leon stays out with the two of them for another couple of hours, hearing how they met and how they fit together so well-he successfully hides how empty it makes him feel, even though the chasm widens little by little with every loving look they send each other.

His apartment feels quiet and lonely when he opens the door, like the silence presses in on him as he kicks his shoes off, gets changed and heads to sink into his couch. 

The tension doesn’t quite leave him though, still pulling him taut even as he groans with pleasure at the comfort of his sofa. He turns his tv on, knowing he won’t focus on it at all. 

Are you still out drinking? Are you still with all the other officers? Are you with Chris? What if you and Chris are both drunk? What if-what if you do what he’s heard drunk people do together? Are you going to spend your evening in Chris’ bed? 

Leon looks away from his tv, staring out his window into the darkness. For a few moments he just watches the city. Watches all the lights flicker, the billboards and the cars, wonders which part of it you’re in right now. Wonders yet again what you meant earlier, when you said it was a shame he couldn’t join you. 

Probably just being polite, probably don’t think about me at all, just thought she should invite me because everyone else was going. Why would she care anyway? She wouldn’t-she doesn’t-

Sighing, he leans forward to grab his laptop, pausing just as he reaches it. 

There is one thing that might take his mind off of everything. One thing that might make him feel really good right now, that he’s been craving since last night. 

It only takes a split second, a passing thought of your skirt sliding up your thighs, to make him tug the device into his lap and open it up, fingers hovering over the keyboard as he debates what to do. 

More articles? More learning? Or into the deep end? Over the edge of that chasm inside him that he knows will widen and widen until it swallows him up? 

Leon sucks his bottom lip into his mouth, chewing on it distractedly as he thinks of your breasts pressed against him, how soft and fleshy you felt, delicate and gentle and downright edible.

It’s that, the memory of your body against his, that makes his fingers move. Just forces him to type it out, take him back to that black website with the videos he barely understands. He silences the part of his brain that tells him this is not a good idea, not nearly a wise thing to do given that he is still vastly uneducated about most things-but then he thinks of you and of the thumbnails he saw last night and he just can’t stop himself. His member throbs gently just from thinking about your chest for a minute, and he thinks it’s going to be a very short evening for him. 

Maybe that’s a good thing, maybe-maybe I can learn more-I can last longer-I could be better-make her feel good-

Leon sighs, coming back to himself for a second, enough to realise that it’s a very far off dream he’s having. A fantasy and nothing more, nothing that will ever be realised. 

He elects to ignore the way his fingers shake as he moves them over the trackpad, hunching over his laptop as he greedily drinks in the images that flash up. 

His eyes dart across, looking at the fifth, sixth, the second row-the moving adverts and the search suggestions-

Calm down before you hurt yourself-go back to the start, work your way forwards slowly. Otherwise this may not go very well-

Leon takes a deep breath, goosebumps rising along his arms in anticipation and excitement. This time it’s not just learning, it’s not just educating himself about what he should have known for years, it’s not just looking at the images and backing out. It’s so much more and new and intense and pleasurable. 

He can feel it again, the deep seated ache, the tug in his gut that keeps swelling up when he nears you. A watered down version of last night's activities, but rising up nonetheless. 

Letting his eyes fall to the first thumbnail, his body jolts immediately. His heart stutters and his cock twitches, pulsing heavily as he leans in toward the screen. 

The image is somewhat similar to the second one from the night before, camera trained on the heavenly spot between a woman’s legs as she exposes herself. But this time there’s what is clearly a man’s hand, cupping in between her thighs and pushing his middle and ring finger inside her. 

Leon’s breath hitches, unsteady with the tightness of his pants and the need flooding him as he stares at his laptop. It just looks so fucking good. He doesn’t even know how to describe it properly, describe why it has him so breathless, he’s just instantly addicted to the sight of his fingers shining slightly, reflecting the lights above after being coated in her wetness. Do you respond the same way? Does your body do that? If Leon slid his fingers into you would they get covered in your slick, lubed up nicely to move just the way you like? 

Wait-how do you use your fingers on a woman? Getting a little ahead of myself-

Just as he moves to click on the thumbnail (his heart rate picks up considerably), he thinks this is only the first video. There’s thousands, millions more out there-doesn’t he want to learn how to last longer? To please you-to please a woman as much as possible? Maybe he can just look at a few more, come back to this when he wants to and…touch himself. A small thrill runs through him at the thought, mind bringing back flashes of the pleasure he managed to give himself so easily. 

Clearing his throat and blinking himself out of his daze, he looks at the second thumbnail. It’s just a woman this time, no one else in sight-she’s kneeling in the middle of a room, blindfold on and handcuffs holding her hands together behind her back. His member almost hurts now, twitching behind the confines of his sweatpants and his hands are fucking itching to reach down, palm over the bulge that’s jutting up into his laptop and let his hips jerk and writhe until he feels that sweet release, watches the material of his trousers grow saturated with his come. 

No, be patient. How could I expect to please her-to please anyone if I can’t hold off for more than a minute-

But oh that feeling, the utter euphoria, that overwhelming flood of pleasure that he would feel, the way it was so easy last time, barely anything needed until his mind just shut off-it would be so so easy to feel like that again-to fist his hand around his cock and fuck up into it, watch his precum dribble over his knuckles as he gets closer and closer, feel the way his thighs tremble and his gut tightens and just edge into that realm of desperate need and-

Leon presses his lips together and squeezes his eyes shut, digging the heels of his palms into them like he did that morning. After a few seconds, he drops his hands back to his laptop and blinks to clear his vision.

The third thumbnail, an image no wider than an inch, shows Leon the flushed, weeping head of a cock pressing up against a woman’s cunt. He learnt that word last night, ‘cunt’. Felt his blood heat when his eyes skimmed over the letters, unsure why he liked it so much. 

‘Cunt’. Just a word. Just a word he’s been trying not to think of, been ignoring so he didn’t think of his fingers playing with your cunt, didn’t think of his tongue deep inside it-definitely did not think of burying his cock as far into your cunt as he possibly can. Those thoughts did not cross his mind. Well, they did all morning, and then he successfully managed to ignore them while he was working, and now he’s home it’s all he can think about. You, your cunt, what you look like, what your cunt looks like glistening with your come, how addictive it would be watching his release drip from your leaking cunt.

He can’t stop thinking of that word.

Maybe that’s why he clicks on the third video, instead of going back to the first, or instead of looking for longer. 

Maybe he just wants to see the full act, see what the actual thing is that everyone talks about, what guys mean when they say they got their dicks wet-maybe he wants to see a pretty, wet cunt, used and fucked by a cock that happens to look somewhat like his, so he can imagine you better. 

His mind tries to bring up the memory of last night, of when he thought of you as he came and the deep shame that consumed him after. The loading screen of his laptop is too enticing though, and he ignores the vague warning to himself, pushes it down and hunches even further over his device, wanting to see as much as he possibly can.

He startles a little when it finally loads, eyes trained so intently on it that the sudden brightness of the video makes him jump.

Swallowing nervously, he clicks play.

There’s a brief sort of logo screen, only a few seconds and yet too long, as the need in him worsens and he licks his lips quickly, hungry for the sight of slicked and spent flesh once again.

And then it starts.

His lips part and his pupils blow out, black swallowing his irises, when he sees the first few seconds. It’s a close up view of a man and woman, focused on the same position as the thumbnail.

Leon watches intently, hunching further and leaning his face toward the screen, as the man’s hand grips his cock, moves it a little and brushes the tip of it up and down the woman’s slit-another word he learned.

After a few beats, the man pushes downward a little and into her cunt. Into. The head of his shaft pops obscenely into the woman before he pauses, waits a few seconds.

Leon doesn’t even know where to look-his eyes dart to her trembling thighs, to the way the man holds his member, to the enticing curly thatch of hair on the woman, to the top of her cunt where the flesh is reddened and swollen a little, to the puffy lips that swallow the mans cock, cover his tip in warmth and wetness, in some kind of heaven Leon can only imagine. 

Something catches his eye and he glances down for a split second-reluctant to pull his eyes away for any longer-and it takes him a beat to realise he’s drooling.

Spit dribbling from his bottom lip onto his forearm, landing wetly and slipping over his skin. He wipes it away with his other hand and onto his sweatpants, realising how much he’s salivating and swallowing before returning to the video.

His attention to it resumes immediately, fingers skating over the keys to turn the volume up without taking his eyes off of the couple. 

Slowly, the man pushes forward and fills her soaked cunt with his cock. Leon makes some sort of groaning noise in the back of his throat, unintentionally spilling out as he listens to the wet slide of skin against skin. 

The man pulls back before repeating the action, steadily driving his length into her down the base with every thrust. Leon doesn’t move, transfixed by the image.

For a few minutes, he just sits there. Just stares hungrily at his screen and watches the lewd pistoning of the man’s hips. Leon’s breathing quickens when the woman’s hand comes into view, palm flattened and fingertips halting over the neglected area at the top of her cunt. She rubs in small, tight circles and it must feel good because he picks up a small moan in the background, just audible over the wet sounds-her thighs tremble again and Leon watches closely, wondering what she’s doing. Add that to the list. Bareback, choking, foot fetish, backshot, and now this.

Leon goes back and rewatches that moment twice more.

Then he shifts his laptop and jerks, pained whine escaping when it brushes over the considerable tent in his sweatpants. A look down confirms that there’s a damp patch on them, a couple of centimetres big and plastering the material to the sensitive head of his cock.

Slowly and wincing all the while, he places his laptop on the table and gingerly tugs at his sweats. Pushing them down his thighs, he stops to raise his hips and yank them down to his knees, groaning a little when his cock springs free and slaps upward onto his abdomen. 

He gently wraps a hand around himself, leaning forward to press play on the video again and slumping back into his sofa cushions. His glaze flicks between the addictive sight of the woman’s squelching hole, the steady push and pull of her partner’s cock, and his own shaft, the gentle curve of it and the weeping tip just visible in his grip.

He moves his hand slowly, hesitantly shifting it up and down so it’s not too much. Distractedly, he thinks of the article he read last night. Of all the different things it said would feel good.

Leon lets out a shaky breath and takes his hand away, letting his cock lie tantalisingly on the fabric of his shirt. He reaches one hand a little further down, curving his fingers over his balls until he cradles them lightly-it makes him moan shockingly loud and throw his head back against the back of the sofa. Tightening his grip a little and rubbing his thumb back and forth a little, he manages to lift his head back up to watch the video again.

The man’s movements have sped up and his thighs smack against the back of the woman’s now, breathy moans just audible with every thrust. Leon whimpers and his hand drifts back up to wrap around his shaft-the dryness doesn’t even register, any sort of touch feeling heavenly in this moment. At some point while touching himself, his mind imagined you and him as the couple in the video. Somehow imagined you laid out and nude, cunt dripping and ready for him as he makes room for himself between your thighs. Somehow, imagined the purpling head of his cock coated in sticky strings of your slick, pushing his way into your entrance and making your thighs tremble with pleasure. Pleasure that he’s given you.

His hips buck up of their own accord, chasing the release he’s attempting to stave off, barely moving his hand as he whimpers and bites his lip, hazy mind getting confused and blurring the video with his fantasies of you.

Leon sucks in a breath and shifts his trembling hand, lightly tracing the tip of his middle finger up the underside of his cock, rubbing it over the thick vein there and fighting to keep his eyes open to still watch his laptop, drunk on pleasure and need.

Suddenly, the movements on screen become erratic, stuttering hips and low groans as the man eventually stops moving. Leon slows his hand at the same time, sitting up a little straighter, greedy for anything more he hasn’t seen yet. 

The man withdraws and slips his cock from the woman, leaving her alone in view of the camera. Leon tilts his head a little, searching for what happens next-he doesn’t need to wonder for long because then the woman’s hands come down, slip under her thighs so she can spread her cunt for the viewer, let them see her eager hole as she clenches and flutters around nothing. Leon lets out a pained ‘oh fuck’, voice breaking part way through and unable to stop resuming his movements.

As he shifts his middle finger up up up to his tip, he stops short and presses down ever so slightly harder, rubbing circles over what the article called his ‘frenulum’-his eyelids feel heavy and difficult to keep open, but he manages to look up once again and it brings fucking tears to his eyes.

The woman is still holding herself open for the camera, letting her cunt quiver, and as Leon looks up, the movements make some of the man’s seed drip out of her. It’s like his blood roars in his ears, eyes blurring as they watch thick globs of pearly white come leak out of her and slip down her ass. That pushes him, edges him over and makes him squeeze his eyes shut, tears sliding gently over his cheekbones and sobs escaping his throat as he presses somewhat painfully on his frenulum, snapping the coil in him and distantly feeling the warm splatters of his come landing on his shirt.

He keeps his finger there and doesn’t even know why, feels the sharp string of it verging into pain without pleasure and still doesn’t move.

He only shifts it away when he can’t stop hiccuping through the cries spilling from him, blinking through tear-blurred vision and sensing the material of his shirt soaking through in patches. 

When he comes back to himself fully a few minutes later, he realises he didn’t stop the video. Except it finished, and autoplayed the next one.

As his eyes fall on the screen he can’t stop another whine escaping, watching a man pummel two fingers into a different woman’s cunt, making her jerk and shake as wet squelches fill the air. Leon’s hands plunge into his hair and his hips rise up of their own accord, a somewhat pathetic little spurt of come belatedly landing on the hem of his shirt and making his eyes roll back in his head.

He shakily brushes at his cheeks to get rid of the tears and wipes messily at his running nose, lurching forward to slam his laptop closed before slumping back again, strung out and exhausted.

Leon lays on his sofa for another ten minutes, sniffling occasionally and hoping to God you never find out what he’s just done.

-

stage 6

Two days without seeing you. He’ll be fine right? He was last week-but he hadn’t fucked his hand to the thought of you back then. He has now. Twice, in fact.

Yeah, only two days. It’s fine. It’s totally okay, it’s just a weekend. People spend weekends apart all the time, and they do that when they’re dating so why wouldn’t Leon be fine?

He’s not fine at all. Not one bit.

He’s doing rather badly in fact.

Barely slept last night and daydreamed for so long in the shower that the water went cold and he absentmindedly stepped out still with shampoo suds in his hair. 

He thought of you when he did his laundry, he thought of you when he made dinner, thought of you when he cleaned up, thought of you instead of watching tv.

Which brings him to now, thinking of you as he lies in bed.

His bed is a mess, duvet twisted between his legs as he lies on his front and one of his pillows hugged to his chest with one arm, the other thrust under the second pillow and cushioning his head. 

He imagines you as his eyes droop shut, picturing you in bed beside him. Lying on your back with the covers pulled up to your chest, eyes shut and dreaming peacefully while Leon drapes his arm over your torso. It sends him into a fitful sleep-he hasn’t had a solid night’s sleep since he met you-as he imagines you. Lets his brain shut off somewhat as he dreams of hooking his hand around your waist, tugging you toward him as you both doze and burying his face in the crook of your neck.

What shampoo do you use? What does your hair look like when you sleep  instead of the way you wear it for work? How would it feel against his cheek as he nuzzles his nose up under your jaw?

Leon only sleeps for a few more hours before he wakes in the middle of the night, gasping into the sheets under him and gripping the pillow under his head tightly with both hands.

Both hands?

Where did the other pillow go?

His mind takes too long to catch up with what his body is doing and he moves before he can think much more, rolling his hips downward into soft cotton and burying his face in the mattress to stifle a moan.

Stilling for a second, he pants into the fabric and assesses what on earth he’s woken up to.

His legs are spread apart a foot or so, and the insides of his thighs are brushing against the same soft cotton he rolled against just now. With a start, he realises that’s where the other pillow went.

That somehow, in his sleep, he shoved his pillow under his body just so he could rut against it, just so his body could make him grind his leaking cock into something.

Experimentally, he lifts his pelvis slightly and drops it again, feeling the slide of his shaft over the pillowcase and biting down into his sheets, attempting to stop the whimpers that are lodged in his throat.

Leon raises himself shakily onto his forearms and looks down the length of his body. He sees almost the same view as the previous night, cock flushed and red and drooling, twitching every now and then against the pillow it lays on. 

Pushing himself up further, he manages to hold himself upright, knees either side of the pillow and chest heaving as he watches his member twitch, jumping up slightly when another rush of pleasure washes over him. Knowing exactly what he’s going to find, he presses his finger against the material just under the tip of his cock-as he thought it would, the pad of his finger comes away wet, sticky with precum. 

Grimacing, he wipes it on the edge of the pillow and debates what to do next. Usually it would be a cold shower-if he can move. But now there’s other options. Especially since he’s watched porn properly now. He could watch more, he could pull up one of those videos, watch the one he shut down last night of a man forcing his fingers into the woman’s sopping hole, squelching and slapping wetly. He could simply just put his hand on himself-it’s not like it would take him long to come even without porn. As history will attest to, he thinks bitterly. 

And then it occurs to him. 

His shaft jerks again with the thought of it, and he presses his lips together, reaching down slowly to grip either side of his pillow and leaning more of his weight on it. 

Sucking in a breath, he draws his hips back and gently rolls them forward, thrusting his cock through the damp patch he’s already created. He couldn’t have stayed quiet if he tried, but given that his head is pretty much empty apart from the drugging need for pleasure and release, he drops his mouth open to let his moans escape, the whines building up in him as he rolls his hips slowly and unsteadily, whimpering nonsense, barely even words springing forth-‘oh fuck fuck that’s-shit s’good so so good-mmf oh god-shit shit shit-ha ahh god I-fuck wanna-m’wanna cu-oh-’

The bed frame squeaks as he moves, creaking back and forth with every thrust of his hips. His movements are sloppy at best as he rocks, body shifting with only his release in mind and chasing it greedily. There’s a dark patch on the pillow where the tip of his cock keeps pulsing out precum, leaking and soaking the fabric. He only feels a tad ashamed of the way he’s grinding into a pillow that he’s vaguely imagining is you, because most of his mind is overtaken by the heady mix of the sounds and the sensations, the rustling of the bedsheets and his tender flesh sliding over the damp cotton.

With a stuttered cry, he lets himself fall forward onto his bed again and grips the pillow beneath his head, shoving his face into it as he messily ruts down, pace faster than before as the pleasure builds and builds and builds in him. Distantly, he wonders what you might think of him, what you’d say if you could see him pathetically humping his pillow as he fantasises about you. Cock rubbing against the wet patch and thighs straining as he drives his hips down and down, over and over and over again as he bites the corner of the pillow in front of his face. 

His mind makes it worse, keeps throwing up the way you say his name and it’s all he can do not to moan loud enough for his neighbours to hear-instead he sucks the corner of the pillow into his mouth and squeezes his eyes shut. It absorbs most of his whimpers as he keeps rutting downward, and he knows it’s saturated in his spit as the pleasure spills over inside him.

His eyes grow blurry again as he comes onto the pillow, sloppily humping it still anyway, wincing at the sensitivity and thrusting his twitching cock through the mess. 

It’s only when he rolls onto his back a couple of minutes later that he realises he was moaning your name into the spit soaked pillow as he came.

-

On Saturday the text chain of officers is alight, talking about god knows what happened at the bar the night before and Leon jerks off as your messages ping through. On Sunday he’s so fucking ashamed, knowing he’ll see you in the morning and thinking you’ll take one look at him and see, see how depraved and pathetic he is, how dirty and needy he’s become. On Monday he wakes up covered in his own come again. On Tuesday you run through the office looking for something, and Leon humps his pillow again thinking about the way your chest bounced. On Wednesday he walks into the break room to see you bent over the counter, fiddling with the coffee machine, and though he wants to try something new he watches the same video again and comes in his briefs. On Thursday you gently put your hands on his waist as you shuffle behind him to get by and he goes home to jerk off in his shower, fucking his pillow again before he sleeps.

He moans your name every time he comes.

His hips twitch, he bites his lip and suffocates the whimpers coming out, but inevitably your name springs forth and echoes around his apartment as his cock pulses out his release, over and over again. 

He feels a little bad for his neighbours, and then he spreads his legs to straddle his pillow again to hump the soft material and suddenly he doesn’t care anymore. Nothing matters in those moments, nothing exists apart from the hazy thoughts of your body rocking under him as he rolls his hips and feels the drag of his cock against the wet patch he’s already made. It’s become his favourite way to come, pretending as though your pretty body is below him and pretending as though he knows enough to please you, to fuck you until you’re as brainless as he is, to push his throbbing cock into your cunt you until you’re both dumb with pleasure, nothing in your minds other than the primal need to move together, slick skin against skin.

Now it’s Friday. It’s Friday and he’s sitting at his desk, staring at his screen but not really looking at anything. 

He’s just agreed to go for drinks with the team. Not that big of a deal since he’s done that a few times over the last three weeks, but you’re coming along this time. That has definitely not happened before, and he has no idea what to do.

The majority of his mind is screaming at him, telling him this is what he wants, what he needs. Telling him it’s a chance to have something more than just humping his pillow every time he thinks of you. You’d probably be disgusted, repulsed if you knew what he’s been doing. You’d probably never want to speak to him again-hell you could lodge a complaint and get him fired if you wanted to. 

Those are all the things Leon thinks when he’s not consumed by his lust for you, when he can think relatively straight and realises how much you’d hate him, how you might yell at him and hit him if you could see the way his thighs squeeze the pillow between them-you’d be well within your rights as well. It would only be fair really, to react like that if you caught a glimpse of his depravity, if you saw the way he drools into his bedsheets, your name stuttering out in broken moans and whimpers as his back arches and his cock ruts down-like a bitch in heat, he thinks sometimes. 

Chris shot him a look when you agreed to come out with them, and you caught Leon’s eye right afterwards. He hopes it was just a coincidence, but he can’t be sure. 

He barely does any work for the rest of the day. As usual, all he thinks of is you. 

Will you wear your work clothes? Do you drink? Do you like fruity cocktails, straight spirits, heady wines? Will you sit next to Chris all night? Will you go home with anyone? Will you dance? 

Before he knows it, everyone is grabbing their stuff to head to the usual bar and Leon is trying to calm his heart, beating too fast as he thinks of you in a casual instead of professional environment. He got a glimpse of it last week when you and Chris flirted before the day started, and he’s unsure if he wants to see more. 

If it’s directed at him, there’s no doubt about it. He’d get on his knees and beg for that if you asked him to. 

If it’s directed at Chris, he thinks he’ll be making an early exit tonight. 

-

An hour or so later, everyone is settled into a booth at the same bar the guys took Leon to on his first day. Well, almost everyone. 

You and Chris are at the bar, flagging a bartender and ordering the first round. Leon tries again to calm his racing heart and fight down the flush in his cheeks, subtly angle his body so that there’s room for you-or whoever comes back first-but so it doesn’t look like he’s desperately waiting.

There’s a laugh echoing across the bar and he turns his head to see you ambling back with Chris by your side, a pretty flush on your cheeks already from the happiness and the heat of the bar. The glasses you’re carrying clink as you put them down on the table and the other officers descend on them. Leon holds back a little before reaching for a pint-and his fingers brush against yours as you let go of the glass. His eyes dart up to lock with yours and he receives a sweet smile at the touch, to which his cheeks heat even further and he has to dampen down a grin.

And then you slip into the booth next to him.

There’s a little bit of shuffling on your end, which pushes your thigh snugly up against his (his leg jerks minutely at the contact and Leon hopes you don’t notice), and as you twist your torso to adjust the waistband of your skirt he realises with a jolt that his bicep is pressed neatly against your cleavage, perfect breasts framing the taut muscle. 

He automatically flexes his arm and his breath hitches as he feels the cups of your bra against his bicep. Heat prickles up his spine, something twists in his stomach and he forces himself to look away from the way your back is slightly arched in the position.

Apparently happy with your clothes, you lean forward to grab your drink and settle back into the booth, getting comfortable. 

For the next two hours, Leon barely hears a word anyone says. He focuses on the coldness of the pint he has in front of him, the condensation he can feel on his fingers, the way the lining in the booth feels beneath his thighs, the music echoing from the speaker in the corner of the room.

Unfortunately, he also focuses on the fact that your thigh is pressed against his the entire time. The way that every time you laugh you lean into him slightly and either your arm or your chest brushes his bicep again. The fact that when Chris asked the table something, you turned to him with a grin on your face and his mouth was only six inches or so away from yours. What if he had just ducked his head a little? What if he had pushed forward ever so slightly and pressed his lips against yours?

Eventually, he sees everyone apart from the two of you and Jill are all pretty much drunk. Jill is close but she can still walk in a straight, if not wobbly, line.

He also realises that his body isn’t going to stay in control if you lean over him one more time and he gets to smell your perfume. Honestly he wouldn’t be surprised if he just cracked, dropped his head a little and just licked at your neck. The thought makes him hungry, it rips through him and he licks his lips, wondering what you’d taste like if he sucked at your pulse point.

That’s when he decided it was probably time to go-when his pants started getting a little too tight.

And that’s also when you lay your hand on his forearm and say you need to be heading off as well actually, so why don’t the two of you share a cab?

He thinks his heart must have burst out of his chest and landed in your hands, bloody and still beating as he looks at your hand on his arm. Touching him. Actually touching him. Initiating it as well. By choice.

The next few minutes are a bit of a haze-he knows he nodded (he didn’t trust himself to speak) and stood, waited for you to grab your things and then trailed behind you as you both left the other officers drunkenly falling over each other in the booth. 

He tries not to look so eager, he really does, but he’s practically vibrating with excitement and nervousness as you both sit quietly in the cab and watch the street lights go by. Well, you watch them out the window and Leon watches you. 

He blames his lack of subtlety on the pint that he had-knowing full well that the small amount of alcohol he imbibed did absolutely nothing and his need to watch you is just pure infatuation on his part, desperation and obsession arising unbidden.

After ten minutes or so, you turn your head and catch his eye. Of course, his cheeks flush brightly again and he prays you can’t see it in the shadowy backseat. He fumbles for something to say, some excuse as to why he’s been staring at you, but his tongue feels heavy and dead in his mouth.

Most of your face is in the shadows and he struggles to make out your features, but he can see the way your lips curve up, slipping into that sweet smile that’s become one of his favourite sights over the past few weeks. 

“Your place is closer than mine right? Drop you off first and I’ll carry on to mine?”

His throat feels oddly tight for a second as he registers that you know where his place is-somehow you know something about him, something he knows he didn’t mention in the station so you must have found out yourself. 

The speed in which his cock begins to harden is impressive, just from the knowledge that you actively wanted to know something about him.

Leon manages to confirm your question as he tampers down his grin-and then he realises that it means you’ll part ways in only a couple of minutes.

You just smile again in response and look back out the window until the cab pulls to a stop outside Leon’s apartment building.

His heart flares as he reaches for the door handle and he desperately thinks of something to say, an excuse to invite you in or to somehow stay in the car but nothing comes, his mind goes blank and ‘goodnight’ is the only thing that comes out of his mouth. 

As he steps out and goes to close the door, he looks at you one last time and sees a softer smile on your face, and your tongue flicks out over your bottom lip before you lean forward, street lamps shining gently on your face. Then you just say, “Good night, Leon,” quietly, and keep smiling as you settle back into the seat.

He grins to himself the entire way up to his apartment, as he opens his door and as he heads to his kitchen for some food. His laptop is sitting in his table again and he fights the urge to open it right away, try a new video and think of your thigh pressed against and just oh god you felt so soft and his bicep was pressed so nicely against your breasts and he could feel your bra and-

A knock on his door echoes around the apartment, jerking him out of his thoughts. 

Leon sighs, thinks it must be his neighbour who always manages to lock themselves out. Really, it was weekly nowadays-who loses their keys that often?!?

But-

Of course it’s you on the other side, of course he’s just been thinking of making himself come while fantasising about you and you appear. Of fucking course. 

His eyes widen as he stares at you standing there, fiddling with your hands as you stare back. 

“I-sorry I just-you left this in the-it was on the seat so I figured-”

You hold out his wallet, which must have slipped out from his back pocket as he got out of the car. For some reason he can’t fathom, you seem a little nervous. Not nearly as nervous as he is right now, but slightly on edge. 

“Uh thank-thank you I didn’t-had no I even dropped it so….yeah-thanks-”

He cringes a little as he speaks, hearing how his words just don’t come out the way he wants them to. They waver a little as he stutters and of course his cheeks are bright red again-these days just the sight of you seems enough to make his blood rush to all the most annoying places. Well, the most inconvenient ones anyway. 

“Thing is-”

Leon raises his eyebrows a little and leans against the edge of his door as you start speaking again, wondering who was looking down on him and deciding he deserved this kind of blessing. 

“The can sort of-well he said he had other fares to pick up and I mean, it’s-its dark and cold and kinda dodgy and I don’t really wanna walk so could I maybe possibly just-”

Your eyes flit over and around Leon as you speak, betraying nervousness again until you’re stopped by him suddenly taking a step forward. 

“You can stay here! I’ll-yeah you don’t have to walk-if you’re comfortable-you can-absolutely you can stay-”

He knows he must look frantic, overeager and probably desperate but he can’t help it, can’t bring himself to care when there’s suddenly the prospect of you staying in his apartment?!?

You blink a couple of times at him and he thinks he sees a grin tugging at your lips as you respond.

“Oh-well-that’s very lovely of you Leon, I was just-I mean I was gonna ask if I could wait here for another cab-”

Oh my fucking god-

Leon lets out a small ‘oh’ and stumbles a little against the door at your reply. Of course he got it wrong, of course he fucked it right at the last second, of course he assumed and was too forward and probably made you uncomfortable and he still hasn’t even invited you in jesus christ-

Stepping backward a little, he manages a somewhat mumbled offer to yes of course wait inside and attempts to look at the floor as you brush past him, trying not to think about you being in his space.

“The living room is back-it’s down the hall if you, I don’t know if you wanna wait in there you can-you can wait wherever you’d-yeah-”

He sighs as he trails off, looking away from where you’re taking in what you can see of his apartment so far. Shutting the door, he presses his hands against it and closes his eyes for a second, letting out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. 

Brilliant. The woman I can’t stop fucking fantasising about is in my apartment, alone with me, and I get the wrong idea and can barely speak? Just great-

He turns around to follow you down the hall, but you haven’t moved. His eyes widen minutely as he looks at you standing there, watching him only a couple of feet away.

And then you take a step forward, wringing your hands together. 

“I-you can stop me if I-I just want to-”

And god help him your hand is on his cheek.

With another step, your face is hovering in front of his and so goddamn close. 

His stomach twists at your closeness, spine straightening as his gaze keeps falling to your lips. He tries to watch how your emotions flicker in your eyes, he really does, but your tongue flicks out over your lips again and he can’t stop looking down, letting his lips part as he struggles with your closeness. Mere inches away, touching his cheek and in his space and you’re alone and he’s been thinking of you for days and days and he can still feel where your breasts pressed against his bicep and-

Your lips are softer than he imagined. 

Addictively soft, pillowy and perfect and all he wants to feel for as long as he possibly can. Before he knows it you’re pulling away though. Leaving him, making him feel that horrible hollow pit in him and he can’t fucking stand it-he takes a step forward this time, chasing you and accidentally pushing you backwards a little. 

He’s breathing quickly, clinging to the taste of you on his lips and his pupils are blown out, stark blue darker than usual. He belatedly realises that his hands are fisted in the material of your shirt, gripping it near your waist to keep you there, where he can taste you again and feel your lips on his and feed his addiction. 

You look a little taken aback, a little out of breath as Leon clings to you and stares intensely at your mouth. 

He’s distantly aware that his member is verging on pain from the onslaught of sensations he’s experiencing, and he somewhat registers the fact that it might be digging into your hip by now-but your lips curve into a shaky smile and he doesn’t care, just lurches forward to press his lips on yours and drink you down again.

The force of his movements pushes you back a step and you let out a small noise of surprise, which he doesn’t hear in his haste to taste you again. The hands gripping your shirt hold you to him and Leon doesn’t even notice that he’s getting light headed, that his chest is hurting with the need to breathe.

Your hands come up to curl around his, gently unhooking them from your shirt and moving a little out of his reach. 

Leon reaches for you immediately, flush sitting high on his cheeks and lips gently swollen.

“No I-please-can I-”

With one hand you catch both of his as he tugs on your shirt again and lift the other to cup his cheek once more, brushing your thumb over his mouth and pressing your lips together while you furrow your brow.

“Leon-Leon hold on-Leon just-”

He’s staring at where he’s managed to grip your shirt again though, trying to pull you back to where he can kiss you again. The front of his trousers are evidently straining, but Leon misses the look you peruse his body with because he’s too preoccupied with feeling you again.

He finally looks back up at you when you step back fully out of reach, where he has no choice but to see what you’re protesting about.

“Leon-why are you rushing baby? You can-we can do whatever it’s-it’s okay we can just-we don’t have to do anything-”

That hits him, drops into the chasm he’s been ignoring and makes him sag in his place. A lump in his throat rises up and he swallows, trying to fight it back before it reaches his eyes. 

“No I need to-I’ve gotta-”

Unexpectedly, you take a step forward and slide your hands up to grip his biceps gently, rubbing soothing circles with your thumbs as you watch him fumble over his words.

“You don’t need to do anything-we don’t need to do anything it’s okay-baby it’s okay why don’t we just-let’s just start slow yeah?”

Your words are cooed softly at him, washing gently over his skin and it feels like a soothing balm, something that calms him faster than anything he’s felt. 

In the back of his mind, some part of him thinks he gets why he was told he looks like a lost puppy sometimes, because he just knows he’s looking at you like you hung the moon. 

He nods dutifully at you, managing a small smile and reaching to capture your hands in his. His body is still wired, on a knife's edge as he throbs and pulses, tries to hold back from leaning into you again and pressing the length of his body against yours. He’s sure he must be dreaming either way, that there’s no way it’s real that you’re in his apartment, and that you just kissed him. That it seems like you want to do more-

Yet again you surprise him, tugging on his hands as you take a few steps backward and pull him into his living room. 

When you come to stop by his sofa, he thinks his heart is going to give out. His breathing is relatively steady thank god, but he knows his arousal is fairly evident, embarrassingly evident as a matter of fact. 

The smile on your face is so warm and gentle though, so inviting and he can’t bring himself to care about anything else. 

The fact that he knows how desperate he looks doesn’t matter, the fact that he knows next to nothing doesn’t matter. All that he cares about is that the way you tug him onto the couch and tuck your legs under yourself next to him feels healing, like you’ve taken your hand from the bottomless chasm and started sewing it up. Your hand putting his on your skirt clad thigh, a needle and thread flitting through his skin. 

His eyes are big and round as he watches you, waiting for your next move like a dog waiting for orders. As far as he’s concerned, you’re the authority here. Calmed down from his momentary loss of restraint, he thinks it might be best to let you handle this, how it plays out instead of rushing in head first. 

The hand you put on his thigh is grounding, a tether that pulls the thread tight and keeps his thoughts straight. It feels like he’s all too close to letting them float away, letting his head go empty at your closeness. 

One of your hands comes to rest lightly on his abdomen and he can’t help tensing his stomach, flexing the muscle as he tries to fight the waves of need pulling him under. 

He forces himself to look at you, actually look you in the eye and keep his breathing even. Of course it’s more difficult than he thinks it will be, but he mostly manages it, and thinks he’ll never see a better sight than you kneeling on his sofa next to him, eyes soft and inviting as you trace random patterns over the material of his shirt. 

“Okay-how about we start simple? Tell each other some stuff we like and go from there? Sound good?” 

It would, if he wasn’t relatively clueless about most stuff.

No need to say that though, no need to reveal that he’s never had sex at 21 years of age and that he has no idea how to go about pleasing you in any way. 

“Yeah-yeah okay-that’s sounds-uh-that-”

Leon winces at his own words, thread unravelling stitch by stitch. 

Can’t do it can’t do it-

“I-actually I can’t-I don’t know what I-I’m not really sure what I…like-I haven’t-that is to say-I haven’t really done anything exactly and I don’t-I’m sorry I-”

The hand resting on his stomach drifts up to rest over his heart, making his pulse pick up and his head lean in toward yours a little, instinctively craving more of you. 

“That’s fine that’s okay that’s-it’s all okay Leon-can I ask-do you mind telling me what you’ve tried?” 

Don’t tell her don’t let her know how truly clueless I am-

“I’ve only really-just-just my-jesus christ-just my hand, really-”

Oh. Well it’s out there now-

His eyes flick away from you after he finishes and he feels even more heat rise to his face, somehow. Did he really just admit to you the only thing he’s ever done is jerk off?? Briefly, he thinks he’s glad he just managed to leave his pillow out of it. 

Distractingly, your hand drifts back down to his abdomen, a teasing light touch that puts him on edge and reminds him just how obvious his body is being. 

“Mm okay-how about-you can tell me to stop or say no, Leon, of course you can but-what if I just put my hand on you for a minute? Would that be alright? I won’t do anything that’ll make you uncomfortable, promise-”

Leon is baffled for a second, wondering why you’re still here. Why you haven’t just seen that you’re wasting time with someone who doesn’t know how to please you and walked out the door. But the roaring in his ears and the throbbing through his body takes over a little and he can’t really pay much attention to his confusion. 

He can, however, pay attention to the fact that you just said you wanted to put your hand on him. 

His cock twitches behind his zipper as the words sink in, and he blinks owlishly at you, dizzy with the thought of being touched. Being touched by anyone would be enough to set him off but fuck, the thought of being touched by you-even more than the way you’re touching him now, actually having your hand where he wants it most, where he’s been fantasising about for the past two weeks. His grip tightens a little on your thigh as his mind moves sluggishly, trying to prepare himself for what’s going to happen.

With a deep breath, he realises that he doesn’t even really know what’s about to happen. Does it mean you’ll do the same as he’s been doing with himself? Maybe you’ll palm over him like he did the first time, or tease the sensitive head like he’s discovered he enjoys. Both thoughts make his thighs tense, anticipating your next touch-but you keep your hand on his stomach, pressed down a little firmer than before, a comforting weight. 

“Leon? I won’t do anything if you don’t agree, we can’t do anything unless you consent baby-if you don’t want to-if you’re uncomfortable or want to wait that’s okay, but you gotta tell me either way okay?”

Your features are worried now, forehead creased in concern as you watch his heavy breathing and feel his fingers digging into your thigh. 

His stomach lurches, insides churning uncomfortably as he almost chokes on the need to brush away your worry, console you and make you as happy as he possibly can.

Make it better, make her feel better and be better and confident and-

“No! It’s-I mean yes-yes I really-I do I want to I just-I don’t know what I’m doing, really and I-what if you-what if I can’t-”

Never mind then. Just spit it all out I guess. 

Leon swallows nervously and avoids your eyes yet again, cursing the need that makes him so tongue tied when he’s around you. 

You bring him back, make his mind snap back to the present when you shift your hand and rub soothingly back and forth over his belly. Even through the material of his shirt he feels hot from your touch, as thought just this could set him alight. He adjusts his hips, shuffles ever so slightly down into the sofa as you caress him, and tries not to blurt out how much he needs your hand lower. 

“Ahh okay-that’s fine baby no need to worry-if you’re okay with my hand on you then we can start there and just see how it goes yeah? Don’t need to think about anything else, just focus on how it feels-wanna do that for me?”

And then your hand is slipping down, down to the prominent bulge in his trousers and he’s never nodded so fucking fast in his life. You stop when your fingers are curved over him, cupping him gently and making him bite his lip as he watches you and tries his goddamn hardest not to buck up into your hand. 

It’s so much better than anything, anything he’s tried and better than he could ever have hoped and he doesn’t know if he’s more worried about losing it too quickly or more desperate for your touch. He realises just then that you’ve literally only just cupped his dick, just rested your palm delicately over his clothed shaft and he’s already losing some of his sanity, willing to do anything for more. 

“Hey-hey cmon baby I asked if you’d be alright with that-if you can just focus on the feelings and don’t think-if you want more then you’re gonna need to use your words Leon, want you to talk okay? Yeah can you do that for me? Tell me what’s good, what you like, how I’m making you feel-just want you to talk to me okay Leon?”

With that you squeeze your hand gently and he damn near flies up off the couch. His hips jerk and he gasps, head falling back a little as he struggles for words. 

“Fuck fuck-yes okay yes I can-shit-I can talk to-can you keep-fuck I’ll talk to you-I’ll-please-I can do that if-will you keep going-will-will you touch me more? If I-oh god-”

You’ve opened the floodgates it seems, gotten him to open his mouth and now he’s not going to shut it because he knows you want to hear it-his rambling is promptly cut off with a whine though as you start rubbing your hand back and forth, palming gently over his bulge. The sound makes your face heat, pure need spilling from him in a desperate little noise, something you force out of him. 

His hand tightens on the material of your skirt, needing an anchor as you deftly rub over his length. Smiling at the way he pants and fidgets at your actions, you shift your hand up to gently thumb over the fabric covering his tip. 

His hips buck up again at it and he gasps, throwing his head back and squeezing his eyes shut. 

Leon’s breath stutters when he feels yours against his neck, face hovering closely over the column of his throat. You cup his length again, firmer than before, at the same time as you press a small kiss to his neck-he almost tears the material of your skirt at the sensation, whining and panting as he tries to stay grounded. 

“Talk to me baby tell me how it feels, remember-”

As your words work their way into his mind slowly, he hooks his other hand in the waistband of your skirt. You can tell he isn’t even trying to tug it down or take it off, he just needs something more to help him stay here. It’s evident in the way his eyes keep fluttering shut and the way his hips keep jerking, hand loosening and tightening on your thigh, fingers picking at the waistband as you keep petting him. Dangerously close to letting his mind run away and losing himself to the pleasure, but your questions thankfully seem to pull him back toward you a little. 

“It’s-oh god-it’s so-so good-I can’t-s’too good-fuck-please don’t stop-I-you can’t stop-s’much better than-fuck, please-”

He feels the way your lips curve into a smile on his neck and he has to close his mouth hastily, trying not to let loose some sounds he knows will be pathetically whiny. 

“Better than what Leon?”

“-everything-please god please just-I can’t-fuck-need-need to-”

That’s when his hands start moving with purpose, start squirming up your thigh and trying desperately to find the zipper even as he whimpers and sniffles through the way you’re palming over his cock. It’s only through his trousers for Christ’s sake, he should be able to handle it a little better than this shouldn’t he? He’s becoming increasingly worried about what will happen if you don’t let up soon. 

Chuckling lightly against his throat and dragging your bottom lip up it, you kiss the corner of his mouth and whisper softly to him, making the hair stand up on the back of his neck. 

“S’okay baby, don’t need to do anything, I don’t need anything-just wanna touch you for a bit longer-you gonna let me do that? Don’t gotta touch me or try and do anything, just focus on how good it feels when I play with you okay?”

Any ideas he has melt just then, just dissolve into the molten desire pumping through him and drift away as he watches you, doe eyed and pliable under your touch. His head feels empty, brainless and dumb-like the only thing that matters is if he’s pleasing you or not, and he doesn’t really need any thoughts for that after all. 

He lets a shaky breath out and nods at you, humming in agreement because he doesn’t think he can speak properly right this second. 

You smile again against his face, edging down to pepper soft kisses over his jaw while your fingers fiddle with his fly. A few seconds later Leon hears the sound of his zipper being dragged down and his thighs tremble, wondering how on Earth he’s going to survive this. His hands tighten on you again, assuring himself you’re real and this is happening, you’re next to him and want to touch him. 

Holy fucking shit-

When your fingers brush over the head of his cock he bucks his hips up rougher than before, almost propels your arm off of him in his excitement, and you push gently on his hip to settle him down again. 

“…Leon?”

There’s a tone in your voice, a prompt for him that he doesn’t-

Oh. Talk. Tell her-anything, just talk for her-

“Jesus okay I-it’s-you feel so-oh fuck-so so good-”

One of your fingers trails down the underside of his shaft where it’s tucked up, pressing gently on the thick vein he always focuses on. There’s suddenly hot, wet pressure on his pulse point and he giddily realises that you're sucking a small mark onto his neck, marking your presence and giving him something to remember this evening by. He grins deliriously at that, head still tipped back and cock twitching under your touch. 

“Mm just good? You don’t have any other words for me, Leon?”

“No! I can-no yes it is-it’s good but I-shit-it feels-it’s-I don’t know it’s just it’s so good and-and I feel warm ‘nd-’nd like I need more-fuck-”

He sounds like he’s on the verge of tears when he says he doesn’t know, overwhelmed by the fact that this has barely started, you’ve only had your hand on him for a little bit and he’s already displeased you, already failed at the first hurdle.

You wrap your hand loosely around his shaft, as best you can with his clothing still partly in the way, and start pumping up and down slowly, movements almost lazy as you hum in response to Leon and lick over the mark you’ve made on his neck.

He shudders when the sound vibrates across his skin, trembling slightly and tensing up as he feels his stomach tighten considerably. It makes him panic a little, jerk his hips and widen his eyes as he looks to you.

“Don’t worry baby s’okay-”

“Feels like-I know I’m-fucking-oh-I’m gonna-shit-I can’t-”

Leon sounds downright distressed as he whimpers, desperate for you to understand he can’t come this quick, he can’t because he hasn’t even touched you yet and he can’t disappoint you he just can’t.

And then you pull your hand away.

His hips chase you, cock twitching against his abdomen and drooling precum as he frantically shakes his head at you and fists his hands in your clothes.

He tries to beg you to please please m’sorry I won’t-I’ll-I’ll try hold off but I-will you-need you to keep-keep touching me please I need-gotta feel your hand again please baby-

That’s the first time he’s called you anything other than your name, and you have to admit it sounds good coming from his whining lips, breathy and needy as he paws at you.

“I’ll carry on don’t worry, I just thought you might want me to make it better-make my hand move a little easier?”

But he has no idea what you mean, just furrows his brow and presses his lips together while he tries to make his hips stay on the sofa. Your hand comes up to brush some silver strands of hair away from his face and he leans into your touch, pressing his cheek against your palm as you lean in and kiss him sweetly. It’s gentle, soft and intimate in a way your first only fifteen minutes ago wasn’t. It makes Leon realise, fleetingly, the difference between need and desire. 

When you pull back a few seconds later, you stay close to him. He can feel your breath on his lips and your fingers brushing over his forehead, and he tries not to blink. If he does, he thinks he might stop this moment, make you move away and god, no matter how badly he wants you to put your hand on his cock again, he somehow wants this more, wants to be able to watch your emotions swell up in the depths of your eyes, see how you stare back at him. And then you whisper against his lips again, and he thinks that might be his undoing. 

“Doesn’t it feel better when you touch yourself if your cock’s wet? Don’t you enjoy it more when it’s all slick and messy? When you fuck your hand don’t you like the noises you can hear?” He swallows audibly at that, tries to ignore the way his dick jumps as you speak, and you kiss over his cheek gently, pave your way until you’re by his ear and brushing your thumb over his jaw. “You gonna let me do that? Gonna let me make it even better? You gotta answer me Leon, need you to say so if you want me to spit on your pretty cock-”

Pretty. Pretty pretty pretty. Pretty cock. My pretty cock. Her spit on my pretty cock-

He’s sure his eyes must be black by now, eaten up by desperation like the rest of him, as he turns his head to catch your lips and lick into your mouth, holding the back of your head to suck on your tongue.

You’re the one to pull away again, of course, and you shoot him a quick smile before shuffling down a little and leaning over his body. 

His breathing quickens, body on edge as he feels you gently wrapping your hand around his shaft again and holding it so you can position your head over the tip.

He hears it before anything else, the slick sound of you spitting, and then he watches the wet glob slap onto the head of his cock. The feeling of it on his slit makes him twitch and you actually giggle at it, feeling the movement and watching his body tense.

Leon has no time to prepare for the way you move after that, the way you swipe your thumb over his tip to collect your spit and pump your hand up and down fast. Quicker than before, wet and slick and messy, sloppy thrusts spreading your saliva over his shaft and making him twitch and writhe.

He’s on the edge before he knows it, hips bucking up, hands fisting in the sofa cushions and your skirt, thighs shaking and stomach tensing. His head is still thrown back and he struggles to keep his eyes open, but forgets about keeping his mouth shut.

The earlier embarrassment at any noises he might make is gone, burnt up along with his restraint by your soft hands and pretty words, and he lets them spill out freely now. He has no idea what they’re doing to you though, how you clench and drip with every whine forced from his throat. 

It doesn’t even matter that this is the first time you’ve done this together, it’s obvious when he gets close because he just, well, he sounds a little pathetic. He spills out little whimpered ‘oh’s with every movement of your hand, begs and pleas every now and then, desperate for you to keep going, to please don’t-nnng fuck please don’t stop-feels-oh oh-feels s’good-m’gonna-oh fuck-ha so so good-ah please keep going-keep-oh oh oh-fuck-nng I can’t-god please-can’t hold it-m’gonna-oh fuck fuck fuck I-yes please more just-yes yes oh-m’gonna-can’t stop it m’sorry i can’t m’so sorry I’m sorry I-oh m’gonna cum m’gonna-gonna cum m’gonna fuckin cum-m-oh fuck m’cumming-oh oh oh-

Well, you asked him to talk.

He’s beautiful when he comes, truly. Thighs trembling, legs trying to close, abs flexing and entire body undulating as much as possible in his position. 

Sometimes it’s not the most appealing sight, but the way his mouth drops open and ropes of come spill across his chest, painting his shirt and soaking into the material-it’s enough to get anyone going and that certainly doesn’t exclude you. 

As for Leon, he can barely think. He can barely open his eyes, the periphery of his vision dimming a little as you squeeze your hand a little more, tightening around his tip for a second and coaxing a few small dribbles of come out-he manages to look down in time to see it drip down over your fingers, pearly white decorating your knuckles and his shaft. 

Your hand leaves him and for a few minutes he just lies there and pants, breathing heavily as you gently knead the flesh of his thigh and wait for him to ride it out. 

When he licks his lips and tries to speak, the hand of yours that isn’t covered in his come cups his jaw sweetly, pulling him into you a little for a tender kiss, one that brings him back and grounds him again. Makes his vision clear and his heart slow a bit more.

When you part this time, it’s mutual, with Leon finally realising when you pull away you’re not leaving him, just catching your breath. You both lean your foreheads together, and you chuckle breathlessly, making him look inquisitively at you.

“I just realised I never actually called another cab. Mind if I wait a bit longer?”

As long as you like. 

Please.

sequel/next part

feedback is really really really appreciated-comments and reblogs and asks especially since likes don't promote my content :(( don't think I'll be doing a third part so please don't ask for one sorry!

tags;

@im-just-a-simp-le-whore @feralrenzaka @hvad @nareski @owliellder @joceymoo @igzsatelier @atwinklingsound @kiss4kazu @ghostkennedy @residentdreamy @redxwater @darkened-writer @lovelyvicky @cwreamcake @quuquito @chernayawidow @anonymously-ominous @ryjmhcore @countryclubwh0re @mythical-kyubey @kanashiichan @celestialml @omniscientqueer @neverland-navi @hersweetrevenge @notfeelinggoodrn @keoo1 @urfavecedar @boiled-onionrings @lauman0205-blog @17980k @gukkieslover @certifieddeadgirl @6awnz @sunoosnoona @ynhsluv @phaketears @sagegreen3 @smrti3z @tonberry-yoda @pivkplear @homosexualbee @lilopaque @weeb4equality @min-mingi @shinigamikouryu @hwalovs @the-number7 @admirxation @sqiim @6awnz @kanashiichan @xx-bimbo-hoe-xx @isabelcor3 @refiwrites

5 stars ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

Pairing: Re4!Leon Kennedy x F!Reader

Summary: Leon Kennedy is on his way to pick you up in 5 minutes.

Warning tags: SMUT SO NO MINORS, NSFW, porn with plot, car sex, roleplay of rideshare driver x passenger, ooc leon (he doesn't hit the car), masturbation (female), sex (p in v), public sex, creampie, image taken from google and edited by me

Author's Note: heeey, i had this on my draft sitting for so long and wrote this from 11 pm to 2 am, in a frenzy. i had so much fun writing, (not so much fun editing this picture let me tell ya), so i hope you enjoy it too!

my leon's masterlist

Leon Kennedy is on his way to pick you up in 5 minutes. 

You blink at the message sent to your phone, confused. You had just finished a good walk in the park and could definitely walk back home, no biggie. The weather had been great, not too warm or humid. Your husband had other plans, clearly. You pinpoint your location to your driver, excitement growing inside of you.  

Not even four minutes later, the black Range Over enters the park's gates, and you start giggling. Before getting in the car, you must laugh as much as you need, you think. If your husband was doing this, he had an excellent reason.

The car stops by your side, and you open the backseat door. Inside, a handsome and familiar face looks at you in the rearview mirror.

"Leon?" You hold back a laugh, simply giving a timid smile. Leon asks your name, and you confirm. "Would you mind if I rode in the passenger seat, Sir?"

Leon mumbles an inaudible "Not at all." You know just calling Leon "Sir" has already affected him. You close the back door, open the passenger's and jump right in. Leon is wearing a black baseball cap over his golden locks, and you control another urge to not chuckle. To complete the look, he wears one of his tight black shirts (which makes his chest looks huge) and the black pants you love on him.

Leon is staying in character: it is weird he isn't smiling at your presence, but you are to be blamed for this. He is trying, and it is your fault.

You were the one who revealed, while drunk, how interesting it would be to get fucked in a car by a rideshare app driver if, of course, he was Leon. You knew it was a silly fantasy, but Leon considered it a great idea to surprise you at the right time. And the moment finally came, when you left the house ready for a walk, wearing a green shirt and those tight pants. 

"Is the AC okay, ma'am?" You are taken aback by how serious and smooth his voice sounds.

"Mhm, yes, thank you, Sir." But two could play into that game.

You can feel Leon staring at your gym pants, going up to your shirt and cleavage. You lied: the car was a little too cold, and your nipples, protected by your bra top, were starting to get hard, a fact that didn't pass unnoticed by your driver.

"Are you sure you are not cold?" Leon asks again, his blue eyes struggling to stay focused on the road. 

"Maybe a little," You admit.

Instead of raising the AC temperature, Leon places his warm leg in your upper leg. Surprised by the sudden touch, you don't move as Leon caresses slowly. 

"This help?" Leon murmurs, and you nod as his hand starts raising up slowly. "How do you plan on paying for this ride?"

"I have no cash on me. Or cards," You whisper, your body shaking with anticipation. Your eyes wander outside momentarily, not recognizing the empty road you are on and not even caring.

"I guess you will have to pay me in another way, then," Leon sounds decisive, a naughty smile playing on his lips.

"What other way, Sir?" You pretend to sound nervous, despite your body warming up. 

Leon answers by firmly pressing his thumb against your clit, as the rest of his hands grab the middle of your legs. Bastard, who knew your body so well by now. He rubs circles through the fabric, an approval hum coming from his chest.

"I think this could work."

You moan back a frail "Yes," spreading your legs open so Leon can have easier access. Your worries about him hitting the car don't even come to mind: you would trust Leon with your life. And the windows are tinted, so fuck it. Your head falls back against the seat as Leon continues with the lazy strokes.

"Touch yourself. Pull your top up."

You follow as told, pulling your shirt and top up until your collarbone. The cold wind from the AC makes you wince a little, the seatbelt scratching against your bare skin. You don't mind, your nipples so hard Leon licks his lips with desire. He also notices your chills, and suddenly you have your husband back.

"Do you want to raise the AC, sweetheart? I don't want you to get sick, and my hand is quite busy down here."

You nod, raising the temperature before going back on, pinching your nipples, a fire spreading in your veins. Typical of Leon getting worried about you getting sick like he doesn't have his hand in the middle of your legs.

"S-sir...Leon." You moan desperately, and Leon grunts an answer. You think he might pull over any minute now, but Leon continues driving, despite his attention flickering between you and the road. 

"Take your pants down. And your panties as well."

You take your gym pants down, together with your panties. When you place your feet into the seat, Leon momentarily loses control of the car, causing it to jolt to the left, but he quickly retakes control. You are going to be the death of him, spreading your legs like that, your body turned to him.

Fuck, Leon thinks. You look adorable, sexy, hot, spread like that, your pussy wet and ready for him. Your chest is rising up, and your face is heating up. He wants to stop the car and take you now, but Leon is committed to giving you what you want.

"Let-let me check" You hide a smile when Leon Kennedy stutters, but your smile disappears when your mouth turns into an "o" while he rubs his index finger, starting from your clit down to your entrance. He pulls in just the tip of his finger before pulling out.

Leon tastes his fingertip as if savoring it, making your stomach drop. You are so fucking glad you aren't driving this car, or you both would be dead by now.

"It should be enough as payment," Leon declares, not hiding his proud smile when he sees you even more embarrassed. He wanted to grab his phone and record it. Maybe next time, he thinks. 

Without wasting any more time, Leon shoves two fingers inside of you. Your head goes back against the seat and the window, the cold feeling good against your warm skin. He rocks his fingers slowly, admiring your pleasure expressions. 

"Look at the mess you are making on my seat," Leon says, smooth and proud. You look down, your wetness even more evident against the dark seat. Leon doesn't seem to care, pumping his fingers fast inside you. 

"Leon," You moan, desperate.

"I know, sweetie, I know." It is your Leon back again. You barely know how your husband is holding up, keeping you safe as your eyes glance at the hard cock between his legs. Your hand tries to approach it, but Leon shakes his head, a blush rising on his cheeks. Not if we want to live, Leon thinks. 

"It is about you now, okay? Be a good girl and touch yourself for me."

"O-okay." You sob. You take your fingers into your clit, rubbing in a circular motion, squeezing Leon's fingers even harder. You close your eyes, trying to focus on the knot on your belly. You are so close now.

"Open your eyes. Open your eyes, sweetheart."

You hear the command and obey, your eyes focusing on Leon's blue ones. He shares the attention between the road and your eyes. He is sweating, his other hand holding the wheel with his fists white. You want to touch him so badly, it hurts. Leon is panting now, jerking his fingers fast inside of you, your movements in your clit following the speed. You moan his name over and over again, finally releasing the knot in your stomach. You cum, tears in the corner of your eyes, as your head falls back. Leon only stops when your whole body just relaxes against the seat. 

The car jolts when Leon finally pulls over and locks the car doors, but you barely seem to register a drunken smile on your lips. He pulls his fingers out, pulling them inside your mouth.

"This is my tip. Come on. Lick them clean."

You lazily lick his fingers back, still trying to catch your breath. When he considers them clean enough, Leon pulls his fingers out of his mouth, his eyes entirely focused on you and only you. Your Leon seems back, releasing you from your seatbelt to pull you into his lap. You can feel his dick against your ass as Leon rubs your back.

"You okay?"

"Mhmmmm. Where are we?" You ask drunkenly.

"I have no idea," He chuckles while you hide your face in his chest.

"That's why you didn't come in the walk with me, you were plotting, sneaky bastard."

Leon chuckles, letting you relax for a few moments. He looks outside the car for signs of human presence, but there is nothing, just trees. No other vehicle has even passed since Leon was driving on this road. He doesn't want to push you to do anything you don't want, of course, especially after how much energy you just used. You seem to understand, though, turning off the car.

"What are you doing?"

"Deciding for you. Come here."

You release Leon from his seatbelt, pulling him to the backseat. You finally kiss, Leon's body covering yours, his clothes reminding you he is too dressed.

"I probably won't last," Leon states apologetically. With his help, you undress him leaving Leon only with his black boxer briefs. Leon finally throws your bra and shirt far away. You want to argue those were your favorites, but he steals another hot kiss from you.

A car passes fast, illuminating Leon and your faces for a second before disappearing. It doesn't have to be an idiot to understand what is happening inside, especially with the now car's foggy windows. You pull his boxer briefs down, and his cock presses against your belly, causing you to chill. You lick your lips, adjusting your position in your backseat as Leon's forehead frowns.

"Hey. Don't worry about it: if it is the police, you can just show your badge and say it is a secret mission or something."

Leon chuckles, knowing you are probably right. He tries to say something, but you finally stroke his dick, just the tip, and Leon is trembling in your hands, his blue eyes glowing.

"Shit, sweetie, one second."

"We don't have much time, Leon." You argue, impatience. You wrap your legs around his waist with your back leaning against the window and the car seat. Leon stands kneeling in front of you, one of his hands at the window and the other holding the seat behind your head. 

Leon enters you slowly, causing you both to groan. Leon is much louder than you, and the car starts shaking as soon as he starts moving.

"Shit, you feel so good. You liked your driver that much?" Leon teases, his golden locks rubbing your face.

"5 stars. Ri-right there, baby," You answer, holding him close to you. Leon knew precisely where and how to poke you with the right intensity. You try to stay silent, focusing on the noises of your pussy and Leon's groans. As his thrusts become harder without you even needing to ask, another car in a different direction passes, this time much slower, his high beam on. Leon notices your worried expression, pulling your chin back to look at him, and biting your mouth.

"Let them hear. I want them to see you are mine. Come on." Leon changes the angle slightly, and you scream, squeezing his triceps. He is thrusting so hard you can hear the car groaning. You forget about the existence of other cars and everything else, focusing your eyes on Leon's.

"S-so close," You sob, and Leon takes his hand to rub your clit. It takes two strokes until your body arches from the seat, shaking. You moan incoherently, while you close your hands in Leon's arms, as a way to keep you from passing out. Leon soon follows you, biting your neck as he cums deep inside of you, jerking his hips until the very last drop.

You two remain breathless. Leon's hair is damp with sweat, and he looks a mess. You kiss his cheek, looking at Leon's arm flexing so he doesn't put his weight on top of you.

"Are they gone?" Leon barely registers what you are asking, finally remembering the other car from earlier. He has to pass his hand over the window to take the condensations, searching. It seems that they left.

"They are gone."

"Bring me up, Leon, please."

He nods and gently brings you to your lap, still deep inside you. You just need a moment to catch your breath. You rest against his shoulder again, a happy and small smile on your face.

"Well, this tops the cowboy experience."

Leon chuckles, relaxing his head against the seat. When he starts feeling sleepy, Leon lifts his head, finding you already napping.

"I have to drive away soon, sweetheart. Before you fall asleep completely, why don't you wear your shirt and pants, okay?" You murmur something inaudible, and Leon smiles. He finds your shirt under his seat and your pants in front of yours and helps you dress, you more asleep than awake. Next, Leon pulls his shirt on and his pants, swearing low when he does not find his briefs. Guess he is going commando, then. 

Leon leaves you half-lying in the backseat, placing your seatbelt before jumping back into the driver's seat. He gives you one good look, sleeping peacefully, before finding his cap on the floor and placing it on his head. It is time to take you home.

breeding w di Leon ??????????😩😩

leon x afab!reader

wc: 1.8k

tags: explicitly 18+, breeding obvs, pregnancy mention, reader has breasts

“I’m getting old.” Leon mutters, pausing momentarily to sip at his mug full of coffee that you’d brewed for him a few moments earlier. You raise an eyebrow at this; head turning ever so slightly to meet his gaze. It’s been a few weeks since he’d been on the mission to Alcatraz. There’s been a personality shift that’s come over him in this time—at first, you just chalked it up to self-reflection from a near death experience.

Maybe there’s something else to it.

“You keep saying that,” you note, attention back on the kitchen counter as you prepare breakfast for the both of you. “You’re not.”

“I am. You can’t deny it. And you know, well…” he sighs, setting the mug down. “I’ve been thinking about some things. About us.”

This gets your attention. You turn fully to face him now.

He stands, advancing towards you, trapping you in between his body and the counter behind you. Leon’s lips are on yours nearly immediately—and while you appreciate the gesture and the taste of hazelnut coffee creamer that lingers in his mouth, you’re feeling a bit…

Nervous.

Your nerves quickly shift into a feeling of something else, the sensation of Leon’s hands squeezing on your waist quickening your heartbeat—that familiar aching between your thighs reddening your face at his touch. His eyes are on you as you part, examining the pretty slopes and curves of your face—but your nerves quickly shift back to that feeling of uncertainty.

“I love you,” he starts, hands furthering up your torso. One hand runs over the curve of your stomach, shifting back to the fat of your hip. “And I’ve been thinking about just how good you’d look pregnant.”

Your breath comes out in slight pants at the feeling of his hands tracing over the contour of your body. Leon leans in, placing feather-light kisses over the soft skin of your neck—the feeling of his lips and the prickle of his stubble admittedly making your knees weak. He smells good, like home; like aftershave and cologne from the night before when he’d fallen asleep with his arms around you.

His hands snake up the long shirt that you’re wearing—one of his that you’d fished from his dresser ages ago—traveling from your waist up to cup your breasts. His tongue runs over the shell of your ear, warm breath fanning over the sensitive feel of your skin. You shudder.

“Think about it. Me, you, a family…” Leon’s tone is hushed as he speaks in your ear, thumb toying at the sensitive peaks of your nipple. You feel him smile as he places a kiss on your temple, something you can hardly focus on from the feel of his hand caressing your breasts. “Don’t you want that?”

“I—” Your breath hitches at the feeling of deft fingertips running along the now sodden cotton of your panties, thighs shifting and molding around the shape of his hand between your thighs. “I… yes, of course. I mean, I’ve thought about it, but…”

“But?” He questions, tugging the wet fabric aside enough for his fingers to drag along your sticky folds. Leon’s breath fans on your neck, his cock stiff against the inside of your thigh. It’s thick and hard and throbbing and has your walls clenching around nothing—needy from just the idea of him being inside of you.

“But…” Your voice is low, teetering out pathetically at the feeling of the pad of his thumb toying with your clit. His movements are slow and methodical, circling—almost too much while simultaneously being not enough. “Your job, and…”

The way your bottom lip catches in your teeth makes him want to kiss you—and fill you with his cum—all the more. It’s been plaguing his thoughts ever since Alcatraz.

“We can work that out,” he mumbles, finger hovering around your entrance, collecting the arousal that seeps from you in anticipation. Your nails dig into the muscle of his forearm, head hanging low at the feeling of the digit threatening to breach inside of you. It’s too much. But not enough. “Work’s been slowing down. Doubt that they’d want to keep an old man like me out on the field too long anyway.”

You go to speak—you want to scold him for calling himself old, even though it’s undeniably true—but you’re cut off by the sound of your own whine at the feeling of his finger pushing its way inside of you.

He only goes as far as the first knuckle… but the gasp that falls from your lips coupled with a low moan has him a bit too eager to hear more from you. Leon inserts a second finger, the pad of his thumb pressing a fleeting amount of pressure on the sensitive bud of your clit. He’s patient as he finger-fucks you, scissoring you open with methodical movements that have your knees weak and your face hot.

You’re too busy whining his name to realize the way he’s looking at you.

Too needy to notice the way his cock throbs at the feeling of your wetness around his fingers; too drunk on his touch to see the way that his blue eyes are trained so intently on the sight of his fingers slipping out of you and pushing their way back inside. He slides his fingers out of you, marveling at the strings of sticky arousal that cling to them.

“So,” he pauses momentarily—brings his fingers to his tongue—and wraps his lips around them. “Did I convince you?”

You nod.

It’s not long before you feel the coldness of his fingers—wet from you and from his own mouth—hooking along the lace hem of your underwear to tug them down. The cotton pools at your ankles.

“You’re fucking me on the counter?” The question falls from your lips breathlessly; the feeling of his hand squeezing at the fat of your ass eliciting more noise from you than you’d be willing to admit.

“Sure am,” he mutters, the ghost of a smirk on his lips as he pulls the fabric of his pants down just enough to free his cock. “Don’t worry. We’ll have plenty of time to make up for this. I intend on—“

He hoists you up properly, arm keeping you suspended in the air, eyes on the slick sticky mess that’s littered your thighs. Instinctively, you wrap your legs around his waist. The head of his cock prods at your entrance—leaking precum enough to leave you wondering if he’d left a sticky stain on the cotton of his gray boxers.

“—stuffing you full of cum everyday until I see a positive test.”

Something tells you that he plans to make good on his promise.

He slides into you slowly; the pace agonizing as his cock stretches and splits you open—your walls shaping around his size, nails digging further into the skin of his arm. You shudder at the sound of his voice in your ear; low and needy and whiny for the feeling of the warmth of your walls instinctively gripping around his shaft.

“Leon,” he audibly groans at the sound of his name from your lips—how breathless and pretty and needy you sound for him. “Please, I—“

His fingers leave indents in the skin of your ass, his hips pressing into you so agonizingly slow to the point where you’re beginning to ache from the feeling of needing him so desperately.

“Come on,” Leon buries himself to the hilt—reveling at the feeling of the softness of your body against his. The granite edge of the counter digs at your back; a non-issue considering the fact that you’re struggling to keep your composure at the feeling of Leon balls deep inside of you. “You can take it.”

You nod.

Crescent moon shaped indentations are left on the muscle of his back, red and angry—unnoticed by the feeling of him plunging into you; his hips flush against yours with each slip of his cock inside of you. Sticky strings of arousal begin to line down his thighs—the creamy ring pooling at the base of his cock fueling the pathetic whimpers that slip from your and his lips.

Leon roughly fucks into you, pace unforgiving as your insides uncontrollably quiver and squeeze around him. You pray that no one can hear the both of you through the opened window of your kitchen—the sound of his balls slapping against your skin entirely too loud—coupled with the noisy moans that seep from your lips and the low grunts that seep from his. You can hardly tell the color of his eyes; his pupils blown so wide that you’d mistake them for brown if you weren’t aware they were blue.

He leans forward—hips still snapping against your own—and presses his lips against your own. It’s uncoordinated. It’s needy. It’s wet and sloppy as he struggles to focus on the fact that he’s supposed to be kissing you when you feel so good and tight and wet and warm around him.

He greedily tongues at your lips and greedily ruts into your pussy, movements bordering on feral at the feeling of you and the thought of stuffing you with his cum. The pretty noises that fall from your mouth drive him forward, lips still on your own as he swallows every semblance of a mewl that you make from the feeling of his cock dragging along your walls.

Leon pulls away for a moment—lips reattaching to your neck, trailing to your throat, savoring the taste of your skin. He’s losing himself. Losing himself to the overwhelming urge to put a baby in you; to the idea of your body softening and breasts swelling and hips widening—to the idea of just how perfect you’d look with his kid in you.

You squeal at the feeling of the pad of his thumb on your clit, thighs clenching and trembling and shaking around his waist—nails digging further into the meat of his back as his relentless pace falters and rhythm stutters towards sloppiness. Leon coaxes you further towards your orgasm, motion of his thumbs pulling an orgasm from your swollen, throbbing clit; the pulsating of your walls pulling him deeper into you and effectively milking his cock.

The sight of you—back arching, legs trembling, jaw slack, body spasming—it’s too much. His cock twitches, his hips sputter; his grip on you borders on pain—and you can’t do anything but take it. You feel it before you realize it. You feel the slight quiver of his body against yours. You feel his lips on your throat, tongue pressing on the rapid pulsing of the vein on your neck. You feel the warm, sticky ropes of his cum that he’d stuffed in you with no shame.

He places slow kisses along your jawline—cock still stuffed in you, plugging his cum inside—and again, you feel the ghost of a smile on his lips.

“Mm.” Leon’s voice is barely audible as he mutters in your ear. “S’ not enough. Let me give you some more.”

Bundle of Joy

Part 1/2 of a secret-pregnancy drabble between Sanemi and the Reader, who is the Lunar Hashira (not the same one from TWAHM). Protective/soft Sanemi, but the other Hashira don't know he's the daddy.

CW: suggestive/smut, blood, pregnancy, difficult labor. Sanemi is a dick to everyone but is so soft for Y/N.

You can find Part Two here.

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

Pregnant, Kocho had said, you’re pregnant.

She had sat there for a moment, too stunned to say anything right away. Her eyes flitted between the gentle look on the Insect Hashira’s face and the results of the blood work clutched in her hand.

Pregnant.

In retrospect, Y/N knew she shouldn’t have been surprised. Sanemi was a passionate lover, and she loved being the object of his passion, in both the bedroom and in those quiet, stolen moments shared at one another’s estates, away from prying eyes.

And sometimes, there were less-than-quiet moments where a certain someone had begged Sanemi to stay inside and give it to me, baby, please!

Okay, Y/N conceded, maybe those moments occurred more than sometimes (far more), and Sanemi had only been too happy to oblige her.

And so Y/N was pregnant.

“Well, that’s a surprise!” Y/N said with a soft chuckle, absent mindedly placing a hand over her flat stomach.

Kocho watched Y/N for a moment. “Y/N,” Y/N was surprised to hear Kocho refer to her by her first name, even more so when Kocho moved to place a hand over hers. “you are more than free to keep the child that comes from this pregnancy, or…” Kocho furrowed her eyebrows, struggling to phrase the information delicately, “we have things here that would terminate the pregnancy early. It would be painless.” She promised.

Y/N blinked in surprise. The thought hadn’t even crossed her mind, but the thought of not letting the the child in her belly grow… no, she couldn’t do that.

“Thank you, Shinobu, truly,” Y/N squeezed her hand lightly. “But I wish to see this through.”

Kocho nodded, withdrawing her hand to reach for a stack of papers stacked besides her on the small exam table. “Well in that case, I will need to inform the Master right away. You can still perform some missions for now, but nothing too strenuous. The first few months of pregnancy are quite tricky.” Shinobu began scribbling down a message, but paused mid-word.

“Y/N… is the father… involved?”

Ah. That problem.

It wasn’t so much a problem for her and Sanemi as it was for everyone else. When they had finally given in to the simmering desire between them while training more than a year earlier, neither of them had intended for it to continue. But one time had not been nearly enough, and suddenly, Y/N had found herself craving his voice, his touch, and his lips, and he, hers. It had not taken long for them to realize how ridiculously, stupidly in love they were.

But they had both agreed to not tell the other Hashira — or anyone — about their affair. The decision mostly stemmed from practicality; the Master, while he did not oppose relationships amongst the Hashira, did have a practice of not pairing them up together once their relationship was made public. The Master believed, ultimately, it was too risky, as both would seek to protect the other, potentially to the detriment of civilians and other slayers alike.

It was a rational justification, but it did little to stifle the electricity which cackled between the two Pillars. It held little weight against the stony will of Sanemi Shinuzagawa.

Sanemi had been the first one to crack during an intense sparring session. He had caught Y/N off guard after she had dodged an attack, using the wind to pitch himself into her blind spot and sweep her shapely legs from beneath her.

But Y/N had never been one to go down without a fight, so she had wound the Wind Pillar’s haori around her fist mid-fall, and successfully brought him right down with her.

On top of her.

Sanemi had fallen with a grunt, his eyes nearly bulging out of his head as he realized Y/N had still managed to out-maneuver him, even after he had bested her. His full weight upon her, he had stared at her with a bewildered look in his eyes, breathing hard out of his nose as he struggled to collect himself.

His eyes flitted down once to Y/N’s fist, still wrapped in his haori, before they had lifted back up to her mouth, settling on that stupid, shit-eating smirk she had.

There had been no thoughts in Sanemi’s head as he crashed his mouth against hers in a flurry of lips and teeth.

Y/N had been frozen for half a second before she snapped back into herself and hauled him closer, meeting each demanding swipe of his tongue stroke for stroke.

Within minutes both of of the Pillars’ clothing had been reduced to shreds, and Sanemi’s head had found a home between Y/N’s legs. It had taken embarrassingly little effort on his part to bring her over the edge not once, but twice.

And when he finally flipped her on all fours and rammed his proud length into her desperate core, Y/N had come apart again, half-sobbing his surname as pleasure mixed with pain from overstimulation.

“You know my fuckin’ name. Use it.” He had snarled in between the ruthless snapping of his hips against her.

That night, Shinazugawa had made sure Y/N could only say one word:

Sanemi. Sanemi. Sanemi.

And when it was finally over, and the two had collapsed next to each other on the dirt ground of his training ring, spent and satisfied, Sanemi had told the sweaty Lunar Pillar that she was to report to his Mansion for training sessions forthwith.

Nightly training sessions.

Because one taste had ignited an inferno of desire between the two of them that could not be snuffed out. It could only be tamed when Y/N’s fingers buried themselves in his hair as his own tight grip on her hips and thighs left marks on her skin, his hips setting a relentless and savage pace as he rutted into her, wanton and needy. A fire that could only be soothed when Sanemi sent her hurtling over the edge of her pleasure and found himself free-falling after her, spilling himself inside her warmth until she was filled with nothing but him.

It had not been long before the emotional passion followed their more carnal desires. Y/N had known she was in deep when she had confessed to him her deepest fears of not living past the age of her elder brother and falling to demons the same way he had. She knew he felt the same way when, in the middle of the night, having been startled awake from some unseen terrors in his mind, he stopped leaving the futon they shared to sit out on the engawa stare up at the moon, instead seeking the comfort of her embrace, burying his nose into her hair as he willed his heartbeat to slow.

And so, for more than a year, the two Hashira had kept up the charade of being disinterested co-workers in public, concealing their endless passion, adoration, and concern for one another that they held in private. It appeared that none of the other Pillars were any the wiser.

The only difficulty now would be in how to tell him the news.

She would tell him, of course, the moment she returned to his estate in the dead of night, when she knew the other Hashira would be sleeping or out on patrol, far away from the grounds of Sanemi’s manor. Y/N would tell him, and then they would decide how to move forward, together.

Sanemi, who was so strong, so capable, was also so, so protective. He knew that Y/N was more than capable of handling herself on missions, but too much personal tragedy had scarred him and he found himself unable to leave her completely alone. Even if she had been assigned to complete what was technically a solo mission, Sanemi was always within a few miles to rush to her aid, should she need it. And Y/N was the same way with him. A true team, who could and would figure out how to deal with any obstacle.

But until then…

Y/N smiled, attempting to reassure Shinobu. “I’ll take care of it. Thank you, Shinobu, truly.”

Shinobu pursed her lips, debating whether to push her friend further on the matter. It wasn’t her place to pry, true, but she couldn’t help but worry.

While Shinobu knew Y/N could handle herself— very well — she also knew how it was to be a woman in society. Men were relentless in their pursuit of forcing women to do things against their will; their destructive creativity knew no bounds.

But Shinobu also knew that pushing any woman in such a situation could make her clam up, could make her resist help — or even treatment. So, Shinobu resolved to keep quiet for now, but to keep a close eye on Y/N throughout her pregnancy.

Had she known at the time of the Insect Pillar’s concerns, Y/N would have fallen off of Shinobu’s examination table in a fit of hysterics. The idea that Sanemi, Mr. Made-Madea-Piss-Himself-for-Harassing-a-Young-Slayer, would ever do anything she hadn’t wanted him to do was laughable — as if he didn’t have her begging and pleading for him to do more to her every night.

But Y/N didn’t know, and so she left the Butterfly Mansion without another word. Shinobu sent off her crow to the Master with the Lunar Pillar’s news, pulling Aoi aside to instruct her to monitor the pregnant woman throughout the upcoming months for anything amiss — bruises, unexplained injuries, general skittishness — and to report it immediately to her.

Shinobu may not have known the circumstances of Y/N’s pregnancy, but she did know she would not let harm come to her or her growing child.

———————

Sanemi had wept like a baby when Y/N told him that night.

The man who looked as though he were stone hewn by the wind itself fell to his knees and cried like Y/N had never seen before. He pressed his forehead against the flat expanse of her stomach, raining soft kisses across her abdomen as he held his love close.

“Thank you, Y/N,” he whispered, between the pressing of his lips against her skin while she ran her fingers through his windswept hair, “Thank you for this gift.”

After Sanemi wiped his eyes, he made sure to spend the rest of the night showing Y/N exactly how grateful he was, though with a newfound gentleness. Sanemi typically took her roughly in a way that had Y/N’s eyes rolling back into her head, begging desperately for more. That night, however, he had treated her with such softness and love that it nearly shattered her heart. He had spent the entirety of the night holding her tightly against him, her name falling like a prayer from his lips while he gently rocked into her, whispering how beautiful she was and would look as she grew his child.

The next morning was not as beautiful.

“You’re retiring.” He said sternly as he poured her tea first, then his.

“No, I’m not,” Y/N retorted evenly, “Kocho said I could take low-risk missions until my next appointment with her, and that she would reassess her recommendation then.”

Sanemi stopped pouring his tea, setting the pot down a touch too hard. “Y/N. The first few months of pregnancy are when the mother is the most at risk for losing the child. I will not have you putting yourself in situations where that is a very real possibility.” He reached for her hand, closed in a fist on the table. “I…” he struggled to find his words. “I watched my mother… lose a few pregnancies at the hands of my father,” he spat the last word, but when he looked up at her, his eyes were tender; pleading. “I do not want to see you suffer through the pain that she did.”

Y/N softened at that revelation. She had known about Sanemi’s painful childhood, but the news about his mother’s lost pregnancies was new.

But this was different. She was a Hashira, not a housewife.

“This is… our thing, right now, isn’t it?” Y/N asked lightly, holding her steaming cup of jasmine tea between her hands, relishing in its comforting warmth. Sanemi said nothing but nodded, as he waited for her to continue.

“I’m not ready to share us with the world just yet."

Sanemi’s lips tightened, and his eyes fell to the floor. “Are you…unhappy with this news? He asked quietly. “Do you… feel ashamed… of…” His voice trailed off, but Y/N heard what he was asking all the same.

Ashamed of me?

Y/N’s head snapped up, and within a flash she was on her knees before him, clasping his large hand between her smaller ones. Sanemi kept his eyes resolutely on the floor rather than meet her piercing gaze, and Y/N tightened her grip.

“I need you to look at me when I tell you this,” she tugged lightly on his hand. Slowly, his eyes lifted from the floor and rested on her face, and Y/N’s heart clenched at the softness she saw reflected in his lilac gaze.

“I love you.” Y/N said simply, a small smile tugging on the corner of her pretty mouth. “I love you and I love our child. I thank the stars every day for you.” Sanemi’s breath caught in his chest at her words, and his hand returned her squeeze.

“But as you said, the first few months of pregnancy are difficult. I don’t want this news out before we’re ready to share it, especially in case of,-“ Y/N shut her eyes briefly, trying to shake away the encroaching panic she felt at the idea of losing the child growing in her womb. “In case something happens.” She managed.

“But if I retire now, there will be questions that I’m not ready to answer.” She looked up at him through her eyelashes, feeling slightly guilty about the show she was about to put on. “But I need you to trust Shinobu’s medical opinion on this. To trust me.” Y/N pleaded, bringing his callused hand to her lips, brushing soft kisses over his scarred knuckles. “I need you to trust that I know my limits.”

Sanemi Shinazugawa would never admit it, but he was a sucker for Y/N’s pretty face. A bat of her eyelashes and a nuzzle of her face into his hand brought him to his knees in an instant.

“No dangerous missions. Minor demons only. Cleanup. That’s it.” Sanemi proposed, his voice gruff.

Y/N knew, of course, that Sanemi would still find a way to shadow her whenever she would be sent on a mission close enough to his location, and to be honest, she couldn’t blame him. After all, it was his child she carried. But he was willing to compromise — to try — for her.

So Y/N smiled. “Deal.”

———————————-

Pregnancy had generally been uneventful.

Shinobu had insisted at the start of Y/N’s second trimester that she abstain from future slaying missions (much to her chagrin and Sanemi’s joy), but she encouraged Y/N to continue training under the supervision of the girls at the Butterfly Mansion in order to maintain her abilities.

Of course, once missions were off the table, Y/N knew she had to come clean to the other Hashira.

Almost clean.

She had told them the essentials — she was with child and she was keeping it. Y/N and Sanemi had already agreed not to share that he was the child’s father, again out of concern that once the child had been delivered, the two would never again be permitted to share missions together.

To the other Pillars’ credit, no one pushed her for paternity details. Y/N suspected that Shinobu had shared her hypothesis with them, that the father at best was uninvolved, at worst, might attempt to do harm to her if he knew.

Sanemi said nothing in his own defense, and even talked Y/N down from screaming at the lot of them on his behalf. He informed her that as a result of Shinobu, the other Hashira had formed a little pact to protect both Y/N and her (their) unborn child at all costs.

Sanemi found great relief in this, given that he was still being sent on missions. The promise among the other Pillars meant someone was watching over Y/N at all times, should she ever need assistance. And, because he had also agreed to partake in this pact, Sanemi was guaranteed alone time with Y/N at her estate, without the added pressure of sneaking around the other Pillars. Thus, he had been content to sit back and keep the knowledge that she carried his child close to his chest.

And Sanemi had been so attentive to Y/N throughout the months of her pregnancy. He constantly worried about her comfort and sought to make pregnancy as easy as possible. He awoke at all hours of the night to fix something that would satisfy her insane cravings. He would arrive home from missions and kiss her so sweetly, Y/N thought her heart would burst, before pressing his ear against the growing swell of her belly to listen to his child’s small heartbeat and lavish Y/N with kisses and soft praises. In the later months of her pregnancy, he would be sure to rotate Y/N’s sleeping form throughout the night to ensure she wouldn’t wake up in pain or discomfort.

And throughout it all, he maintained his passionate physical love for her, though more gently so as not to risk hurting Y/N or their child. But he worshipped her body with such fervor that it often reduced Y/N to tears.

When Sanemi was away, the other Hashira took turns keeping Y/N company, and each Pillar took on a special role for her. Uzui and his wives showered her with new clothes, fitted to accommodate her growing belly, and the wives lauded her with compliments. Mitsuri had become her meal-time buddy, the two of them nearly eating their way through the entire pantry stock of both their mansions in a single evening.

And so, pregnancy itself, had been easy.

Labor, when it arrived, was an entirely different matter.

Labor hurt.

Y/N had known something was wrong the moment her water had burst, having barely registered the wetness that slipped down her legs due to the agony that followed, leaving Y/N feeling as though she was being ripped open from the inside.

Y/N’s ears rang with a scream she had not realized was her own until she felt her throat burn. Her knees buckled, and she would have hit the ground had Uzui and Rengoku not materialized out of thin air, having noticed her from across the courtyard outside of her estate. The pair stood on either side, working to catch her before her knees could bite into the rocks below.

“We need to get her to Kocho, right away,” Uzui said to Rengoku. “I can run ahead and let the Butterfly Mansion know we’re coming. Can you get her there?” The Sound Hashira asked Rengoku, who nodded.

“Come, Y/L/N, I’ll take care of you,” Rengoku said warmly, lifting her up into his arms before taking off at a break-neck speed. Y/N clutched the front of his robes, hissing as another wave of excruciating pain washed through her.

“Sorry- ah— Rengoku, I might tear your uniform.” Y/N said through gritted teeth, sweat beginning to bead on her forehead.

Regoku’s deep laugh rumbled from his chest. “No worries, Y/L/N! I have plenty of uniforms. He glanced down at his friend, a comforting smile tugging on his lips, “You do what you need to do to help manage the pain.” He added kindly.

Y/N held onto the Flame Pillar’s robes for dear life, as she tried to keep herself from crying out, head falling against her friend’s chest. Above them, a raven circled once, twice, before heading east, its wings beating frantically.

The Butterfly Mansion had just come into sight when the unmistakable scent of iron hit Y/N’s nose. She tried to sit up in Rengoku’s arms to look over the large swell of her stomach, panic beginning to spread through her chest. Before she could confirm the source of the smell, Y/N collapsed back into Rengoku’s arms.

“Is-is that-?” Y/N trembled, her voice unusually high.

Rengoku’s nostrils flared slightly as he too, took notice of the scent. He only had to tilt his head slightly to the side to see below Y/N’s pregnant belly, his expression grim.

“Kyojuro,” Y/N whimpered, her grip on the front of his uniform slackening.

Rengoku turned his gaze back to Y/N’s, his expression soft and comforting as a kind smile chased away whatever shadow had been there.

“You are doing so well, Y/L/N! Truly! You will deliver this child in no time.” He said warmly, the hand holding her against him squeezing reassuringly.

Y/N may have been in blinding pain, but she did not fail to notice how the Flame Pillar clutched her tighter to him, his pace quickening as he sped towards the Butterfly Mansion.

Rengoku had all but leapt the last length of their journey, swiftly landing at the entrance to Kocho’s residence. The Insect Pillar was already waiting outside for them, alongside Uzui and a small team of Butterfly Mansion girls who were prepared to open doors and clear hallways for them.

“Come with me,” Shinobu ordered the moment Rengoku’s feet touched the ground, her eyes scanning over Y/N’s ashen face. Shinobu’s gaze snagged at the bloodstain spreading across the lower middle of the light cotton kimono Y/N wore.

Wordlessly, the small group of Hashira swept through the halls of the Butterfly House, escorted by Shinobu’s staff. The Insect Pillar drew up short outside of a small room in the back of the main hallway, urgently motioning Rengoku through the doorway.

“Uzui, grab Y/N’s legs. Rengoku, move your arms to support under her ribs,” Shinobu ordered the two men as she dunked her hands in a bucket of cold, soapy water, quickly scrubbing at her skin. “You both need to work together to lower her onto the birthing bed.” Shinobu pointedly looked to the small, white futon that lay in the middle of the wooden floor, its blankets already pulled back in anticipation of the pregnant woman now panting in Rengoku’s arms.

The pain in her lower belly was unbearable, and Y/N could not stop herself from crying out as she felt the two male Pillars gently readjust her so they could lower her as Shinobu ordered. Hot tears clung to her eyelashes as she gasped out, breathing becoming difficult through the haze of the pain.

Shinobu, having finished cleaning her hands, moved to kneel at Y/N’s feet. The Insect Pillar adjusted the futon’s cotton blanket to cover Y/N from the waist-down before gently spreading her legs and propping them up on either side of her.

“Y/N,” Shinobu said firmly, rolling up the bottom of the futon blanket to Y/N’s knees so she could examine her friend. “Y/N, you need to get your breathing under control. Your distress is affecting your body’s ability to heal, and it will harm the child.”

Y/N whimpered, a tear rolling down her cheek. Eyes closing, Y/N took a shuddering breath, willing her heart to slow its wild thumping in her chest and her body to relax. She managed for all of two breaths before another wave of pain rocked through her, causing her to cry out.

“Dammit,” Shinobu swore, as a fresh wave of blood spilled from between Y/N’s legs, staining her trembling thighs crimson. Both Uzui and Rengoku stood back behind Y/N’s head, their eyes wide as the smell of blood hit them.

Shinobu wracked her brain, trying to think of something, anything, that would help her friend calm down enough to get her breathing under control, to get her body to stop fighting her labor.

“Y/N, does the father know? Does he know the child is coming?” Shinobu blurted, as she tried to wipe away the blood that was rapidly pooling beneath Y/N’s center.

It had taken a moment for Shinobu’s words to fully register in Y/N’s mind. Her heart stuttered as she remembered that Sanemi was on a mission, at least half a day’s journey from the Butterfly Mansion.

Y/N’s eyes filled with fresh tears not from the endless pain, but from the realization that Sanemi might not make it here in time, might not make it before she…

“He’s t-too far.” Y/N half-sobbed, back bowing off the futon as her body seized with the strain of labor, her eyes squeezing shut as she tried to breathe through the contraction.

Uzui stepped forward from his spot against the back wall. “Nothing is too far for me, Y/N” he said gently, “tell me where he is, and I can get him here in a flash.”

Shinobu nodded, patting Y/N’s knee comfortingly. “Where is he, Y/N? Does he live in a village nearby?”

Y/N shook her head furiously, her mouth opening to respond, but only a choked sob came out.

Shinobu pressed. “Y/N, you must tell Uzui his name, or else he won’t be able to bring him back.” Shinobu motioned for one of the Butterfly Mansion’s young girls to bring over a damp towel to dab at Y/N’s burning forehead. 

“Who is the child’s father, Y/N?” Shinobu repeated.

“It’s — fuck,” she hissed, her stomach feeling as if it were about to split open. “S-SANEMI.” She called out, body curling off the futon before collapsing against it once more, feeling exhaustion settling in over her bones, threatening to take over her consciousness.

The room was silent — dead silent — for a moment. Shinobu looked up to the two Male Pillars, her jaw slackened and her eyes wide, her shock mirroring that of both her comrades.

It had taken each Pillar another moment to re-correct themselves. Shinobu locked eyes with Aoi, a similar stunned look on her face, and silently ordered her to take up her position at Y/N’s feet. Once Aoi had knelt, Shinobu rose, and the other two Hashira swiftly exited the room, the former pulling the door to the birthing room behind her shut.

“No fucking way Shinazugawa is the father,” Uzui had hissed the moment the birthing room door had latched, his magenta eyes wild. “I can’t believe someone like Y/N would willingly have a child with that snarky little bitch.”

“You are not suggesting that Shinazugawa may have forced himself on Y/N, are you Tengen?” Rengoku asked quietly.

Uzui shook his head, scoffing slightly. “No. But I do think it's weird that she kept it a secret until the last possible second,” Uzui ran a hand through his hair, anxiously. “And he never said a damn word about it either. Maybe something happened that shouldn’t have. Maybe he feels ashamed.”

Rengoku eyed Shinobu, whose mouth had been pulled into a deep frown, her eyes fixed on the wall behind the Sound Pillar in deep thought. “Kocho? What should we do?” 

Shinobu also did not believe Shinazugawa would ever force himself upon a woman, but she could not deny the unease she felt at the revelation that Y/N had concealed the identity of the child’s father. “Go get Shinazugawa, Rengoku.” She said softly, “Uzui, you stay here. Shinazugawa is fast enough on his own. I want you here to guard the door.”

Rengoku looked quizzically at his tiny friend, but she said nothing more and so he hid the pair farewell and took off into the night.

“Guard?” Uzui asked, puzzled.

Shinobu pinched the bridge of her nose, eyes closing as a dull ache bloomed through her skull. “Unless and until Y/N asks for him, I want him kept out. I don’t imagine he would be a very calming presence.” Shinobu grimaced. “Frankly, I don’t have the patience to handle him right now. I need to keep her calm.”

Uzui nodded, moving only to send a crow for the Water Hashira to come assist. He leaned casually against the frame of the door once Shinobu had closed it back behind her, shaking his head lightly. Really, Y/N? He chastised, internally, Shinazugawa?

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

Keep an eye out for Part 2 if you want to see Sanemi be both feral and the softest boy.

Fucking love this ghost kid what did yall say his backstory was again

No Good Deed Goes Unpunished. (Yandere Greaser Sanemi x Reader)

{TW: Set in 1950′s, Non-con, Fellatio, violence, implied stalking, trauma, smoking, bullying}

Sanemi is a rough and tough greaser in the small town you live in. Your just a girl trying to graduate high school without being noticed noticed by the usual high school cliques. That all changes when you help him out on a whim.

Watch what happens when you help the most dangerous greaser in town.

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“Go on, beautiful. you can take me deeper.”

I felt the corner of my eyes sting with tears as he shoved his phallus down my esophagus. I feel him hit the back of my throat which causes my gag reflex to react. He grabs me by the back of my hair to hold me in place. I struggle to breathe and I start to hyperventilate. “SHH! Stop! You can do this, baby, just breathe through your nose.” He snarled.

I did as he commanded. I breathe through my nostrils, keeping my eyes closed as he groaned at the sensation I was unwillingly giving to him as he slid his dick further into my mouth “Hey, eyes open baby or this is gonna hurt and I’ll still enjoy it. Whether you’re in pain or pleasure makes no difference to me.” He growled.

So began the 5’10ft man’s pursuit to reach his climax using my mouth. I was in hell as I looked up at the scared male’s face as he stared down at me with a sadistic smirk. He thrust his phallus in and out, the only thing I could do was breathe through my nose and hope it ends soon.

He would stick his erection so far down my throat, I could feel his pubic hairs cuddle up against the tip of my nose. “Good girl, just a little more!” He started going faster, grabbing both sides of my head and thrusting his wood into my gob at a high speed, I thought I was going to choke. My tears finally began to fall and my cheeks burned from the humiliation and shame I felt.

“Oh Fuck! I’m gonna cum! I’m cumming! I’m cumming! I’m cumming!” My throat was raw and my jaw ached and as he fucked my skull with haste, after what seemed like forever, he pulled out and came all over my face. I gasped in shock and exhaustion. I could feel the sticky substance cling onto my skin like glue. I heard him chuckle as he retrieved something from his back.

“Say cheese darling~”

I was too late to stop him. He had pulled out a camera, one of the newest models and snapped a picture of me. I tried to turn away but it was too late. He had already taken a picture of me covered in his seed. “Can’t wait to frame this beauty.” He cackled as the photograph rolled out of the camera.

I burst out crying, covering my face with my hands, not caring if they too got covered in semen. I was too scared and humiliated to do anything else but weep. “Hey now baby, Don’t cry.” I hear him kneel down and force my hands away from my face. “You shouldn’t be crying. You should be happy. Do you know how beautiful you look now?” He pulled out a handkerchief and proceeded to wipe my face clean now.”

“Why….?” I finally whispered out. My voice sounded raspy and dry. He had done a number on my throat. I could barely speak without sounding like I had just lost my voice. “Why would you …..*Sob*…… Do that to me, Sanemi…?”

He didn’t respond. His eyes were half open and held what could be mistaken as a loving gaze. He had a gentle smile and his posture seemed relaxed. Too relaxed. If it had been anyone else in any other situation, I might have been swept off my feet. But no.

Sanemi Shinazugawa leaned in closer to me and placed his lips on top of mine. I instantly felt disgusted and tried to push him away but I was outmatched in strength. He pushed me onto the ground so I was lying on my back, he got on top of me and continued to kiss me.

I could feel his tongue at my lips but I refused to entertain him any longer. He didn’t like that because I heard him growl. He wrapped his hand around my throat and started to squeeze. I gagged and gasped for air. He stares down at me with annoyance and irritation before attaching his lips to mine and sticking his tongue inside my mouth.

I feel his muscle wrestle with mine, the foreign invasion has me flabbergasted. I feel him reach into the furthest corners of my mouth and lick everything he could get. He put one hand on the back of my head to deepen the kiss. He kept his eyes closed, enjoying the kiss like it was his last meal on earth while I could only stare back in horror.

When he finally pulled away. He had the face of a maniac painted across his visage. His pupils were dilated and his grin was so wide, I broke out in a sweat thinking he was going to bite me. “From this day forward, you’re my bird. We’ll always be together, just you and me…”

He stroked my face with his index finger, I could only wonder…

How has this happened …..?

Keep reading

thinking about megumi fushiguro who refuses to let go of your hand whilst he fucks you. it doesn't matter what position that the two of you are in, be it you on top as you ride him or him towering over you as your legs rest on his shoulders; his own hand will always seek out your own.

because despite his brooding demeanor, he's a softie at heart. it just takes a pretty thing like you to coax that side out of him. he never wants to let you go of you, nor to give you the room to escape his grasp. the way that your own hand gripped his own acted as a reminder of all things pure.

he interlocks your fingers, occasionally brushing his thumb over the back of your hand for reassurance — he'll do it even more if the sex is rough and energetic. megumi adores it when you squeeze his hand back in response. in his eyes, it's a way of wordlessly saying that you love him and it helps ground him, especially when you're both mutually overstimulated.