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onceuponaoneshotfanfic · 1 day

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Devils Roll the Dice, Angels Roll Their Eyes

I'm Bright Baby Blue, Falling Into You

Chelsea!Roy Kent x Coach's Daughter!Reader

2.2k words

Warnings: Language, lying/sneaking around, no Ted Lasso characters except for Roy, fluff & flirting, protective dad, mentions of gambling & drinking

Roy shook his head at you as he watched you scurry down the tree. Deciding to flaunt a little, you jumped down from a higher limb than usual, landing in front of the footballer with a cocky grin to rival the ones he shot you at training.

“Fucking show off,” he chuckled before pulling you in for a kiss. “How does a drive sound?”

“Perfect.”

The two of you settled in his car happily, with you relaxing back into your seat while Roy placed one hand on the steering wheel and the other firmly on your thigh. A dreamy pop song drifted quietly from the radio as he began to drive aimlessly, no destination in mind other than getting far away from prying eyes. As much as you loved having Roy in your bed, or spending time tangled up in his, you had to admit that going for drives with Roy was something special. With the windows down and the stars glittering above, some silly little part of you felt like a character in a romantic movie. And Roy Kent was definitely the perfect leading man.

The small squeeze he gave your thigh sent a jolt down your spine. “You pack a pretty little dress like I asked?”

A girlish giggle tumbled pack your lips. “I’ve got a couple in mind,” you assured him. “But I don’t know which to bring unless you tell me what the hell we’re doing.”

“What ever happened to letting things be a mystery?” he teased as he turned down a particularly dark street.

“Not when there’s an outfit to plan,” you countered. You stuck your hand out the window, savoring the night air on your skin, helping to cool you down; you always seemed to run a little warm when you were with Roy.

He chuckled and gave your thigh a playful pinch. “Can’t argue with that.” He slouched a little, finally relaxing now that he had driven far from your posh neighborhood. “Well, I hope you don’t mind but…” He cleared his throat. “I kind of told Jules about us. And I’m assuming he told Katie.”

For a brief moment, your blood ran cold. So far, the two of you had been careful about keeping things completely secret; you only told one girlfriend, and that was only so she could help you cover your tracks with your parents. But you knew Jules and Katie, and you trusted Roy. If Roy told them, you knew it was for a reason. Just like you knew they’d keep quiet.

“What’d they say?” you asked quietly.

His laugh filled the car. “Well, first Jules accused me of having a death wish,” he admitted. “Says your dad is going to fucking murder me if he ever finds out.” Roy’s hand left your thigh to take your hand in his. “But then I told him that I’m fucking dying to take you out properly.” He pressed a tender kiss to the back of your hand. “And he agreed to help us out.”

Roy was dying to take you out. Properly. The thought was enough to bring a goofy smile to your face. “And how will he be helping us?”

“Well…” You could see Roy grip the steering wheel a smidge tighter. “See, the guys’ll be going out after the match,” he explained slowly. “Some club or whatever. But Jules and I were thinking, there’s this casino in town, supposed to be pretty posh…” He shrugged, aloofness suddenly in his tone, as if to disguise how anxious he was to hear your thoughts. “What d’you think?”

A night out with Roy Kent at some fancy casino. There were definitely worse things in the world.

But you weren’t sure if there were better ones.

“I think that sounds pretty great,” you assured him. You rested your head on his shoulder. “You think I could be your little good luck charm?”

A kiss landed on the top of your head. “Well, I did score in our first match with you there, wearing my kit,” he reminded you. “I think you already are.”

With a blush on your face, you found out the rest of the plan from Roy. Katie was going to invite you to go out with her and Jules, which would definitely sound better to your dad than you hitting a club with a bunch of twenty-year-old footballers. Jules, meanwhile, would invite Roy to join him for a quieter night than their teammates would be having. If your dad found out about the outing, all four of you could claim pure coincidence. He’d definitely roll his eyes and scowl, but he couldn’t protest.

But it would probably be best for all involved if he didn’t find out about any of it.

You carefully studied yourself in the mirror. It was a little terrifying, going out with Roy in this particular dress, with its short hemline and tight fit. He’d like it, you knew that for a fact; hell, he’d love it. Already you could picture his raised eyebrows and dropped jaw, and you could almost hear the soft “Fuck” that would slip past his lips. Your whole body tingled at the idea of Roy seeing you look so fucking good.

But your stomach was in knots with the knowledge that your dad was in this same hotel, probably getting ready to grab dinner with the other coaches, and could very likely catch you taking off with Roy and the others. No matter how much you protested that you and Roy were friends, barely friends at that, you knew your dad wasn’t stupid; he’d know immediately that you were dolled up for the attractive midfielder. You just hoped he wouldn’t totally humiliate you or try to stop you.

The soft knock at your door brought you out of your thoughts. With one last check in the mirror, you grabbed your purse and walked to the door. On the other side was Roy, with a small smile that quickly turned into a little o as he took in the sight of you.

“I think we might need to cancel the casino,” he growled, leaning in the doorway with a quirked eyebrow. “Stay right here and get that dress the fuck off you.”

A pleased blush settled over your face as you joined him in the hallway and quietly closed the door behind you. “I assume you think I look pretty tonight.”

“Pretty. Beautiful. Stunning. Goddess-like. Take your pick, princess.” After a quick glance up and down the hall, he pressed a small kiss to your forehead. “Shall we?”

Resisting the urge to grab Roy’s hand, you fell into step beside the footballer, thrilled to have the entire night ahead of you. A night where you could finally, at least for a few hours, act like any other couple, not terrified of being caught by people you know or photographers or- most terrifying of all- your own father.

Roy turned to say something while the two of you walked towards the elevator, something bright in his eyes, when the door you were passing opened. Roy’s eyes went from bright to panicked as he came to a halt.

“Coach.”

Your dad filled the doorway, the same way his frown filled his face as he took in the sight of you, dolled up in a tiny dress, far too comfortable next to his star player. His eyes were trained on Roy as he addressed you with an uncharacteristically icy voice. “Thought you were going out with Katie and Jules, kiddo.”

“There’s a few of us going to the casino, Coach,” Roy quickly piped up, stuffing his fidgeting hands in his pockets. “Jules and Katie are waiting downstairs. I offered to come up and collect this one so we could drive over together.”

Your dad’s eyes narrowed at Roy before returning to you. “Well, don’t stay out too late. I know you and Katie want to head out nice and early tomorrow.”

Roy tried humor this time. “Don’t worry, Coach. I’ll be sure she’s back before breakfast.”

That saying about looks that could kill? Your dad was the living embodiment of that as his gaze returned to Roy, a gaze full of knives and daggers. “I’m speaking to my daughter, Kent. Who I expect to be in her own bed in the morning.”

“Daddy,” you huffed, feeling embarrassment settle over every inch of your skin. “Jules and Katie are waiting for us.”

The frown on your father’s face was becoming all too familiar now. “I dunno, maybe you should come to dinner with us-”

“Coach.” Roy’s voice was steady as he took a step toward your father. “Jules, Katie, and I will take good care of her. Hell, I’ll personally be responsible for making sure she’s right back here at a decent hour. I promise.” He stuck his hand out to your dad, looking less like an athlete talking to his manager and more like a boyfriend meeting a strict father.

It was a long moment before your dad shook Roy’s hand harshly. “Behave yourself, Kent.” There was no playfulness in the phrase he often uttered to the midfielder. He turned to you and sighed. “Have fun.” With a resigned nod, he turned to head in the direction you two had come from, to the room of one of his assistant coaches.

Once your dad turned a corner and was gone, Roy cocked his head at you, eyes full of concern. “Alright, princess?” His brows furrowed as he lowered his voice. “We don’t have to go if you don’t want to.”

He meant it. You knew he meant it. He didn’t want your worries over your dad hanging over you on what was supposed to be a fun evening. If you told him that you just wanted to sneak back into your room and throw on some pajamas and a movie, he’d join you in a heartbeat. Probably order some room service and cuddle all night. And he wouldn’t complain one bit.

And that knowledge had you offering him a shy smile. “Oh no,” you hummed, touching his hand gently. “You’re taking me out, Kent. Properly.”

Roy’s hand felt natural on the curve of your back you stood next to him at the craps table. The two of you had spent the entire drive to the casino holding hands in the backseat of Katie’s car, sharing eyerolls as the married couple teased you about your romance. Your heart fluttered with the realization that, as much as Katie had been teasing you for your crush on Roy, apparently Jules had been giving Roy a hard time since his very first day at Chelsea.

That first day felt so distant as Roy held up a pair of dice to your face, quirking a thick eyebrow at you. “Gimme a little luck, princess?”

Holding Roy’s playful gaze, you leaned over his hand and gently blew on the dice, not at all missing the way he bit his lower lip as he watched you. His fingers twitched as your breath hit his skin, and you swore you heard him groan a little.

He kept his composure enough to roll the dice onto the green table under the watchful gaze of the gathered crowd, none of which seemed to register the pair of footballers at the table. Instead, everyone cheered at Roy’s successful roll, exchanging high-fives and handshakes. Roy, meanwhile, tugged you closer and planted a firm kiss on your lips, the kind of kiss that had you wobbling in your heels.

“My little good luck charm,” he growled as he set you back down.

You were having an absolute blast with Roy. And Jules and Katie, for that matter. Roy barely took his hands off of you, continuously finding ways to touch you- arm around your waist, hand on your thigh, intertwining your fingers, whatever he could reach. He taught you how different games worked and refused to let you open your purse; he joked that he was making donations to the casino every time he threw money down for you. And of course, you were never without a drink in front of you.

For the first time, you really felt like you were living up to the ‘princess’ nickname.

“I’m really fucking glad you’re here,” Roy sighed. The two of you had made your way over to the bar, away from your ‘chaperones’. Roy had one hand around a cold glass and the other firmly on your exposed thigh. “You having a good time?”

You nodded eagerly as you took a sip of your drink. “I am,” you assured him. You leaned forward and pecked his lips, savoring the fact that you could do it so simply.

His smile was nothing short of dazzling. “We should do this again,” he declared. “Go away together, I mean.” He raised his eyebrows. “What d’you think?”

Go away together. Your tummy was doing Olympic-level gymnastics at his suggestion. “That would be fun,” you managed with a little giggle. “Where would you take me?”

He brushed some loose hair out of your face. “Anywhere you want, princess.” He shrugged. “Maybe some secluded little lakeside cabin. Or a fancy hotel in fucking Paris. Anywhere sounds good as long as you’re there.” He leaned forward, clearly intent on sharing another kiss.

You sighed against Roy’s mouth. Anywhere sounded good as long as he was there, too.

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#roy kent bright baby blue #Chelsea!Roy #he's here he's there he's every fucking where #roy kent #roy kent x reader #roy kent fanfic #roy kent fic #roy kent fanfiction #roy kent imagine #ted lasso #ted lasso fic #ted lasso fanfic #ted lasso fanfiction

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hazbinfallinginaspiral · 1 day

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A bit of a silly little mental image I got stuck in my head: Could I possibly request Vox reacting to a scenario where he's doing his best to help out his Reader S/O, who's on their rather painful period, and upon asking them what he can do to help, they respond something along the lines of "Put a baby in me."? Never mind the fact Sinners can't reproduce, Reader is just kinda loopy from pain and hormones and voicing thoughts out loud LOL

I lay sprawled on the couch, clutching a heating pad to my abdomen like it was the last lifeline in a stormy sea. The cramps were relentless, each wave of pain crashing through me and making it hard to focus on anything else. My period this month was worse than usual, leaving me feeling weak and irritable. Vox, for all his usual bravado and detachment, had been surprisingly attentive, fetching me hot water bottles and painkillers without a word of complaint.

He came over again, sitting down beside me and placing a comforting hand on my shoulder. "Anything else I can do to help?"

“Mmmngh,” I groaned.

"Do you need anything?" he asked, his voice softer than usual. "Water? Painkillers? Another heating pad?"

I groaned, squeezing my eyes shut as another cramp hit. "Just... kill me now," I muttered dramatically.

He chuckled, a sound that was both comforting and annoying at the same time. "I'm not sure that’s a service I can provide, sweetheart. Anything else?"

I peeked one eye open, seeing his genuinely worried face. Despite the pain, I couldn't help but appreciate how much he was trying. I thought about what might make me feel better, and in my loopy, hormone-addled state, my brain latched onto a completely ridiculous idea.

"You could put a baby in me," I said, deadpan.

Vox's eyes widened, and for a moment, he just stared at me. Then he burst out laughing, the sound echoing through the penthouse. I managed a weak smile despite the pain.

"Wow," he said, wiping a tear from his eye. "That's... quite the suggestion. But I think we've got a bit of a problem with that plan, considering, you know, the whole demon reproduction issue."

I rolled my eyes, and shifted my position a little, even though it hurt to move. "I know, I know. I just... I don't know. It was the first thing that popped into my head."

He sat down next to me, his expression softening as he brushed a strand of hair out of my face. "Well, if it’s any consolation, I'd totally do it if I could. But in the meantime, how about I get you some chocolate? Or maybe we could watch a movie?"

I sighed, leaning into his touch. "Chocolate sounds nice. And a movie, too."

"Alright," he said, standing up. "I'll be right back."

As he walked away, I couldn't help but giggle a little. The image of Vox trying to handle a baby was both hilarious and strangely endearing. He returned a few minutes later with a bar of my favorite chocolate and a selection of movies.

"Here we go," he said, handing me the chocolate and plopping down beside me. "I've got action, comedy, and romance. Take your pick."

I looked at the selection, feeling a bit better already. "Let's go with comedy. I could use a good laugh."

He nodded, popping in the movie and sitting back. As the opening credits rolled, he wrapped an arm around me, pulling me close. He was nice and warm, and being close actually worked quite well with my cramps. He was like my very own heating pad. The thought made me laugh a little to myself.

"Thanks, Vox," I said softly. "For being here."

He kissed the top of my head. "Always, sweetheart. Always."

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel vox #hazbin vox #vox #writing #vox x reader #my writing #x reader #thanks anon!#vox hazbin hotel #vox fanfiction #vox hazbin #vox the tv demon

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television-overload · 3 days

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of our own making

(an X-Files fanfic)

Chapter 23/34 - filing cabinet

[Read on AO3]

The water cooler gurgles as he fills a small paper cup and takes a sip. Today had been the day. After weeks of going through personnel files for prospective replacements, they finally met with a few candidates. He meant what he said to Scully; he’s ready to let go of the reins a little. That doesn’t make the actuality of handing over the X-Files any easier.

Force of habit, he thinks, to resist any and all efforts to boot them from the X-Files. He has to keep reminding himself that it was his idea this time, and that they’d still be working on them in a consulting capacity anyway. He isn’t quitting cold turkey. And besides, they’re moving on to bigger and much better things.

Lost in thought, he doesn’t notice at first when a few other guys gather around, each filling their own cups with water.

“So, Garcia,” the first one says, addressing a man Mulder vaguely recalls works in Organized Crime. “I hear the wife’s about to pop. You ready?”

Agent Garcia smiles, nodding his head. “Oh yeah. We’re going out tonight. One last night on the town before the baby gets here, you know?”

“You gotta do it,” another agent says. Agent Mann, or something silly like that, Mulder thinks. “They call it a ‘babymoon,’ you ever heard of that? My wife and I took a trip down to the Isle of Palms for ours before Michael was born. Great beaches. Now we’re lucky if we make it to the coast without one or all of our kids ingesting sand.”

The men share a hearty laugh, and Mulder feels a little out of place.

“Amy would have killed me if I hadn’t taken her out for a nice dinner before our first,” the first agent says. “It was another two years before we were able to go to a nice restaurant alone, so I wouldn’t have blamed her!”

Is this something people do, Mulder wonders? Is Scully expecting it? Maybe he had missed the memo at some point. Is there a soon-to-be-dad handbook somewhere that tells them how to win points with their wives before they become parents? Should he have come up with a plan to do something special for Scully? Their lives are about to irreversibly change, and he hadn’t even considered, really, that very soon, it won’t be just the two of them anymore. There will be a third person, someone entirely dependent on them just to stay alive.

He fills his paper cup again, feeling sweat begin to form under his collar.

Dinner. He can do dinner, that’s a good idea. He should ask her. One last hoorah as the infamous Mulder-Scully duo for old times’ sake. She’d like that.

With a polite nod and a forced smile at his fellow agents around the water cooler, he heads back toward the elevator, and back to the basement.

-.-.-

“Hey, there you are,” Scully says as he shuts the door behind him. She’s elbow deep in one of the filing cabinet drawers, evidently rooting around at the back for a stray piece of paper that has escaped a folder. “Help me figure out which files to make copies of. I know you’re going to want to keep some of them,” she says.

She knows him so well. He’s already started making a mental list of ones he wants to have in his personal collection. The Bellefleur file, for example. And of course, the ones with his name or Scully’s in it, but those are for much less happy, nostalgic reasons.

Slouching his suit coat off his shoulders, he rolls up his sleeves and approaches the drawer, offering his assistance in reaching the wayward scrap of paper. Her little arms are too short, a fact which he intends to tease her about later. His fingers successfully find the edge of the document, and he extracts it with careful precision.

A familiar picture stares back up at him, giving him a hearty chuckle.

“Remember this one?” he asks, turning his sketch of the Jersey Devil back toward her.

She laughs as she takes it from him, inspecting it. “How could I forget?” she says, “I think this image is forever ingrained in my psyche.”

“Hey, don’t make fun of my drawing,” he says. “I want a copy of that file. With my beautiful artwork, please.”

She rolls her eyes, but opens up a folder and slides the paper in its rightful place. He can’t help but notice it was already in the ‘to-be-xeroxed’ pile before he said anything.

The office falls silent as he continues rifling through the cabinets, plucking out a file here and there that he wouldn’t mind keeping. It’s a walk down memory lane, for him. Flukeman, Big Blue, the vampire sheriff in Texas… Who would have thought that seven years later, he’d still have Scully by his side as he prepares to let go of what became his life’s work? Their life’s work. She should have run screaming from here years ago, but she didn’t.

Now look where it’s gotten them.

Glancing up at her from over the top of the overstuffed file drawer and filled with a sudden surge of gratefulness that he doesn’t know what to do with, he blurts, “Let’s go out to dinner tonight.”

She freezes, and he mentally kicks himself for the hasty delivery of his idea. Theoretically, he should have planned a better way to ask her. After a second that feels like an eternity, she turns to him with a skeptical tilt to her brow and a small smile.

Well, at least he knows he’ll still get to see her make that expression at him even when they’re off the X-Files.

“I mean, we could try that new place in Dupont Circle. The one your mom was telling you about? If you want.”

“What’s the occasion?” she asks, folding her arms expectantly in front of her chest as she leans back in his office chair.

“You know,” he shrugs, “pretty soon it won’t be just us anymore, and I– I like… spending time with you… So I just thought it would be nice to—”

She smiles shyly. “That sounds great, Mulder,” she says, interrupting his fumbling explanation. “Tonight at seven?”

He grins, ducking his head to hide his goofy expression. “Yeah, seven. I’ll make the reservations.”

-.-.-

In hindsight, this is a crazy idea. The restaurant they’re going to is extravagant. Ostentatious. And he knows Scully knows it, too. The margin of error for plausible deniability here is extremely small, and if she doesn’t have some idea of his feelings for her already, he’s going to have a hard time keeping it that way as they sit in a low-lit room munching on those fancy breadsticks and drinking expensive wine.

What had he been thinking? He asked her out without even sparing it a thought, not realizing how it would sound. To be going out on a date with your best friend who is also technically your wife? Langly and Frohike were right. He is an idiot. What is he supposed to do on this ‘date?’ How is he supposed to act? Does she expect anything from him? Is this his last chance to make a move? What does it mean that this is one of the last nights they’ll spend alone together before someone literally hands them a baby and lets them take it home?

The idea of making a move, after all this time spent explicitly trying not to do exactly that, has him in a spiral. He paces around the floor in his bedroom, trying not to think about what dress Scully might be putting on in her room on the other side of the hall or what she might be doing with her hair.

He can’t upset the status quo like this with the baby due any time in the next few weeks, can he? Bad idea. Bad, bad, idea. But at the same time, when else would he get the chance? He’d heard what the other agents had said… it was years in some cases before new parents got the chance to really be alone. What if he had to spend the next several years silently pining for his own wife in the home they share together, watching her be a mother to the baby they adopted? Maybe there’s a reason people don’t get into arrangements like this with their platonic best friend, after all.

How stupid was he to think he could do this without letting his feelings get in the way? Why on earth didn’t he just tell her months ago, before all this started, instead of getting his hopes up?

The answer, of course, is that he wants this. He wants this family more than anything, even if it's never anything more than friendship and cohabitation with Scully. He would have scared her away if he told her the same day she found those adoption brochures on his desk. It would be too much at once. He knows her, she would have been overwhelmed.

But, man… What if?

He checks his reflection in the mirror one more time, smoothing his hair into place. He hopes he didn’t overdo it on the cologne. Should he be wearing a tie? He puts on one that Scully got him several years ago, complete with a tie clip he’d gotten from her mother at Christmas.

He hesitates over the chain he wears under his shirt. What would Scully think if he took it off and wore it on his finger tonight? He finds that he wants to. Just a normal husband and wife grabbing dinner together. Without giving it much thought, he loosens his tie and unbuttons the top button of his shirt to free the necklace from its usual place. He knows that if he gives it much more consideration, he’ll talk himself out of it, so he pushes those thoughts to the back of his mind and slides the band onto his left ring finger.

There. He’s ready.

He takes a deep breath and opens the door to his room, intent on continuing his pacing in the living room if Scully isn’t ready to go yet.

“I’ll be ready in a minute,” he hears her call from the bathroom as his door creaks open. At a quick glance, he can see the back of an elegant dress he’s never seen before, black with a neckline that swoops down low in the back. She stands at the sink, fastening an earring in place, and it feels like junior prom all over again.

“Oh, I’m in deep trouble,” Mulder mutters to himself, rubbing his hands over his face. Forcing himself to turn away, he walks straight to the kitchen and fills up a glass of water, downing it in record time.

Not five minutes later, he hears her emerge, and he prepares himself for the sight of her.

Sure enough, it knocks the breath out of him, a fact which he makes every attempt to hide. He’s pretty sure she catches it, though, because the corner of her mouth quirks up and her eyes drift to the floor, as if she were somehow self-conscious about her appearance.

Impossible.

He’s suddenly very glad he opted for the tie, if this is what she's wearing to dinner. Although, it’s feeling a little tight, at the moment.

“You, uh—” he starts, at a loss for words. His mouth is bone dry, despite the water he had just chugged a few minutes ago. “You—”

“Thanks,” she says, mercifully sparing him from further embarrassment. She tucks a gently curled tuft of hair behind her ear, drawing his attention to the careful way she’s arranged it. “I figured this might be my last chance to get properly dressed up for a while, so… It’s been… years, I suppose, since I’ve had the occasion to.”

This just confirms it. He’s been an idiot. Years of missed opportunities, chances he’s wasted. He could have been taking this gorgeous, magnificent woman out to fancy dinners all the time, if he’d just been able to pull himself together and see past the end of his own rather distinguished nose.

If time travel is ever invented, he’s gonna use it to go back in time and kick his own—

“Mulder?” she says, smiling amusedly at him. He gets the sense that that’s not the first time she’s tried to get his attention, and he feels his cheeks warm. “I said, are you ready to go?”

“Yeah,” he chokes out, finding his voice at last. She reaches down to grab her purse, and he coughs to clear his throat. “Yeah, let’s go.”

She shakes her head at him in mock admonition, but happily accepts his proffered arm as they exit out the front door of the apartment. In the hall, he glances down, taking in the sight of her hands wrapped comfortably around his right bicep.

Her ring. She’s wearing it. He swears his heart might leap out of his chest at the thought. This might just be the thing that does him in. Put it on his death certificate. ‘Cause of death: the woman he loves is wearing his ring.’ What a way to go.

He doesn’t say anything—couldn’t, even if he wanted to—but he can tell that she saw him take notice. How could he not, with the way it sparkles on her finger, like it belongs there? He feels her hold loosen, and it stirs up a mild panic in his chest. She shouldn’t be embarrassed. Please, please don’t be embarrassed.

He lifts his hand to stop her from releasing him, running his thumb over the diamond inset on her finger. It’s okay, he’s saying. Look, I’m wearing mine too.

He sees the moment her eyes fix on his ring, as he rests his left hand over hers on his arm. She avoids his eyes, but he can tell she’s moved. She swallows back her emotion, and her hold on him tightens again, which sends a wave of relief through his body.

“Come on, we’ll be late for our reservation,” he says, his voice low, just for her ears.

She nods, and lets him lead the way.

-.-.-

His first mistake was thinking that he could get day-of reservations at one of the trendiest places in all of Washington, D.C. His second mistake was not considering that his straightforward request for a table that evening might somehow be misconstrued to mean that evening a year from now.

It takes all his self restraint not to raise his voice at the host at the host stand, because really, why would he be asking for something like that? He’d like to give them a little lesson on the use of the English language, but he won’t, only because Scully is there and he doesn’t want to completely ruin the evening.

She’s there watching him as all this takes place, undoubtedly amused as he fights back frustration. After a moment, her hand lands on his arm, her typical method of pulling him back from the brink of a poor decision that she’s perfected over the years, and she shakes her head.

“It’s alright, Mulder,” she says. “We can just go somewhere else.”

Yeah, but where?

“Have a good evening,” the host says dismissively, and his tone is just a little bit too smug for Mulder’s taste. It reminds him of stuffy dinners with his father’s associates or interactions he had with the pompous law students at Oxford. Maybe they don’t want to eat here after all.

Scully feels him tense under her touch, and gently guides him out of the restaurant before he can respond. What would he do without her? He’d probably get beaten up a lot more often, that’s for sure. Or at least kicked out of places, like he would have been tonight.

She leads him outside, and soon enough, they’re standing on the sidewalk by the street, at a loss for what to do next.

“I’m sorry, Scully,” he says, mentally kicking himself for screwing this up so badly. “I just wanted to do something special, and now—”

“Mulder,” she stops him. “Seriously. It’s okay. I’m happy with wherever we decide to go tonight. This is about spending time together, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Then let's go,” she says, grabbing his hand. “Come on, I have an idea.”

She holds tight to him as she leads them down the sidewalk, passing other couples on the street on this lovely spring evening. He has no idea where she could possibly be taking them, but she’s in a great mood, so he tries not to let the minor setback ruin his night. If she’s happy, then he’s happy.

The sun draws closer to the horizon, casting a golden glow on everything and everyone it touches. It makes her hair shine like fire, and once again he counts his blessings. It feels a little bit like the night of their wedding, and that thought brings a smile to his face.

They walk past several up-scale restaurants, and Scully doesn’t even spare them a glance. Wherever she’s taking them, she must know the way there. After a couple more blocks, she comes to a stop, standing out front of a greasy diner, maybe just a little nicer than the ones they frequent in small-town America.

“Really?” he asks, looking dubiously up at the neon sign. “You sure you don’t want to go somewhere a little fancier, Scully? You got all dressed up.”

Her answering smile is resplendent in the glowing light.

“I want to eat here, Mulder,” she says, stepping toward the entrance. A bell above the door jingles as she pushes it open. “It seems fitting, doesn’t it?”

It does. A wave of nostalgia hits him like a truck when he realizes why she brought them here. Why a diner, of all places, would be the place she chooses for their ceremonial last meal, just the two of them. He can’t count how many formica tabletops just like this one they’ve shared a meal at, over the years. Hundreds of hamburgers with a side of fries, maybe a milkshake they end up splitting when Scully’s ice water loses its appeal. Ripped vinyl booths that Scully thoroughly wipes down with wet wipes she’d started keeping in her bag for that exact purpose.

“Well, don’t you two look nice?” a waitress in uniform says as she approaches their table. Her hair looks like the 80s have come back with a vengeance, all frizzy and permed, and she chews a wad of bubblegum aggressively, smelling like her last smoke break.

In short, it’s perfect.

“What’ll it be?” she asks.

Mulder orders for the both of them, knowing Scully’s usual order by heart. She smiles the way she always does when he remembers to ask for a lemon for her water, and he makes sure to tell the waitress to bring two straws for the milkshake instead of one.

When he looks across the booth at Scully, again, he imagines a little girl sitting next to her, coloring away on a kids menu with two, cheap, plasticky crayons that break in half if you look at them wrong.

It won’t be long, now. That will be their life. Mulder, party of three. Maybe Scully will start to carry a plastic baggy of the good crayons in her bag, for when they go to places like this. He’s absolutely certain she’ll at least double her use of wet wipes and sanitizer. He’ll become a chicken strip connoisseur, knowing all the best places in the city to get the child-favorite delicacy.

“To us,” Mulder toasts once their drinks arrive, lifting his chocolate milkshake in the air between them. “To… endings and new beginnings.”

“To endings and new beginnings,” Scully repeats, clinking her glass against his.

-.-.-

It’s past dark already, barely a hint of color lingering on the horizon, but that doesn’t stop them from prolonging the evening with a walk to the National Mall. The moon is bright, and the streets are lit up for tourists making the most of the warmer spring weather. It’s a pleasant walk. Scully feels drunk, despite the absence of alcohol with their dinner. She wonders if Mulder feels it too.

He guides her with his hand in its usual place, and she feels what can only be described as complete and utter contentment, as each brush of his fingers propels her gently forward. The street leads them straight to the reflecting pool on the National Mall, a favorite spot of theirs, not that they find the time to visit often enough. They’ve missed the cherry blossom blooms by only a couple weeks, but the sweet smell of them persists, unless it’s just her imagination.

Something about being with Mulder like this dials all her senses up to eleven. She has never experienced life like this before. Are the stars always so bright? Does the cool breeze always feel like silk on her skin?

Maybe it's his cologne that has her feeling tipsy. She selfishly hopes the scent of it will linger on her clothes and in her hair even after this night has come to its end.

The Mall is quiet and mostly empty at this hour. The Washington Monument looms in the distance, lit up brightly and casting its imposing reflection on the still waters of the reflecting pool. A family of ducks disturbs the glassy surface, sending ripples radiating outward as they paddle from one side to the other.

Mulder has this peaceful expression on his face, the corners of his mouth quirked upward ever so slightly. If she didn’t know any better, she’d think he had never been here before, taking in all the sights for the first time. He watches the ducks for a moment, expelling a breath of laughter through his nose as a small duckling falls behind, then swims faster to catch up with the rest of the crew.

His hand drops from her back, but before she has a chance to mourn the loss, he entangles his fingers with hers, clasping their hands tightly together. She follows after him in a daze, her lips pulled back in a self-conscious sort of grin. She can’t help it. He makes her feel like a teenager, and… she doesn’t even know what this is, really, but she likes it.

They circle the reflecting pool for a bit, wandering aimlessly at a lazy pace, reluctant to put an end to their time together. Eventually, they end up sitting on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial, the gargantuan statue of the nation’s sixteenth president a silent sentinel behind them.

Scully leans her cheek against Mulder’s bicep. Despite her best efforts to keep them open, her eyes fall shut, her body succumbing to the serenity of their surroundings and the comfort of good company. He offers her his coat, draping it over her shoulders to combat the slight chill. It dwarfs her, the extra fabric at the hem pooling on the ground behind her.

“How about we come here on the weekends?” his voice rumbles, the first words spoken since they left the diner almost half an hour ago.

“Mm?” she hums in question.

He jostles her slightly with his arm, and she forces her eyes open again.

“You know, take the stroller for a spin around the pool,” he says, gesturing ahead of them. “Maybe stop into the Air and Space museum if we feel like it…”

She smiles. She can picture it so easily, the two of them experiencing the wonders of this city through the eyes of their child as she grows. Of course Mulder would want to go to the Air and Space Museum. It’s a wonder he hasn’t dragged her there before.

“Every weekend?” she asks doubtfully, her words slurring slightly.

He wraps his arm around her shoulders, pulling her into his side as he chuckles.

“No, not every weekend,” he says, pressing a kiss to her hairline. “I’m sure some weekends we’ll want to sleep in. Maybe have a late breakfast and watch movies. I can make pancakes. Chocolate chip.”

“Children need to have healthy breakfasts, Mulder,” she says admonishingly. Something tells her it will be a constant battle to keep Mulder from spoiling their daughter with sugar and empty carbs. But if that’s the worst of their disagreements when it comes to co-parenting, she’ll happily accept the challenge.

He rolls his eyes. “Fine. Half blueberry, half chocolate chip,” he concedes. She decides to let it slide for now.

Above them, an airplane soars across the sky, lights blinking rhythmically as it passes overhead.

It’s funny. Before Mulder, she never looked twice at things like that. But now, she finds herself checking a second time, her gaze lingering a little longer, just in case it might be something other than an airplane.

What has this man done to her?

Mulder follows the direction of her stare, his chin tilting upward. Against the backdrop of stars, the perfectly normal, human-built aircraft flies out of sight. The hand on Scully’s shoulder drops to the ground, his palms resting against the stone steps as he reclines back a little.

“Thanks for hanging with me all these years, Scully,” he says softly, his eyes never wavering from the heavens. “I really couldn’t have done it without you.”

Her lips pull back in a smile. “We make a pretty good team, huh?” she says over her shoulder.

His lowers his gaze to meet hers. “I like to think so. You think that will translate to raising a kid?”

She has often wondered that exact thing, but for the life of her now, as she looks into his eyes, she can’t think of even one reason why she questioned it.

She leans back onto his shoulder, her eyes falling shut again.

“Only one way to find out,” she answers sleepily.

He sighs happily. “Any day now.”

-.-.-

What a day. What a night.

Mulder can’t sleep, lying stiffly on his back in bed with his hands clasped on top of his torso. All he can think about is how beautiful she looked in the blinding fluorescent light of the diner, with a bit of ketchup smeared on the corner of her mouth from when she stole one of his fries when she thought he wasn’t looking. How she held his hand, content just to walk in silence beside him in the shadow of some of the nation’s most revered monuments.

What a perfect way to put a cap on their time working on the X-Files together. He couldn’t have planned it better himself (clearly). Who needs expensive wine and stale classical music when you have bottomless milkshakes and a jukebox playing the greatest sock-hop hits of the 1950s?

It wasn’t a real date, he has to remind himself, but it sure was close to one. Usually a first date doesn’t end with both parties going home together, that’s one difference. Or, well, going home to the apartment that they both live in together, he should say. But tonight, as they returned home, they got ready for bed side-by-side at the sink, brushing their teeth and washing their faces, and it felt like they’d been doing this for years. There was no awkwardness there, just a wave of peace and stability he wasn’t sure he’d ever feel in his adult life.

If they ever move somewhere else—somewhere closer to Quantico, maybe—he’ll make sure the bathroom is equipped with a his-and-hers vanity. A sink for each of them, and plenty of counter space for all of Scully’s specialty serums and creams. It’ll be nice, he thinks.

When he finally falls asleep, it’s to visions of wraparound porches and matching rocking chairs, and maybe a nice playset in the backyard with a couple of kids running around. Now that’s a dream worth dreaming of.

-.-.-

This is ridiculous. She should just go back to bed, try one more time to actually fall asleep, get a few hours of rest at least.

But she can’t sleep. Because Mulder had gone and put it in her head that everything is about to change, and it really could happen at any moment. Somehow, when she’s with him, she forgets every apprehension that plagues her, lured into a sense of security and assurance by some mystical power he possesses. Okay, maybe not a mystical power, but it is frightening how easily she casts aside her doubts when he’s within eyesight.

But then it all comes flooding back the moment she’s left to her own thoughts. It’s infuriating. She thought she was ready for it—for this massive life change—but she’s not. It terrifies her.

What if she can’t do it? What if she misses working in the Hoover building with him too much? What if she and Mulder have a disagreement about something trivial and it pulls them apart? What if he meets a nice woman at Quantico and wants out of this arrangement? What if it’s not enough for them to just be friends and raise this baby together? What if her feelings get the best of her, and she scares him away?

Or perhaps worst of all… What if they don’t get to go home with a baby at the end of all this? What if the mother decides to keep it? What then? Would they even have it in their hearts to try again? To wait a little longer, when there are drawers full of onesies and newborn diapers already in their home?

For weeks, the same nightmare has plagued her. Standing in a hospital hallway, their path blocked by people from the adoption agency telling them to turn around. Go home. You do not get a child.

She wakes feeling emptier than ever, and wishes for the millionth time that things could be easier.

There’s so much to think about, and she can’t take it anymore. She’s scared. And there’s only one person she likes to go to when she’s scared, and he’s sleeping peacefully right behind this door.

She sighs, leaning her head up against the door frame in exhaustion. She’ll just poke her head in for a moment. Remind herself that he’s there, and he’s not going anywhere. She repeats the words he’s said to her over and over in her head like a mantra, ways he’s reassured her in the past that he’s in this for the long-haul. But for some reason, they’re hard to recall in these moments of doubt. Maybe she’d misunderstood him. Maybe she’s remembering it wrong, applying more meaning to his words than he’d intended.

Her stomach tosses and turns uncomfortably with nerves. She’ll never be able to sleep like this.

As quietly as possible, she eases the door open, a sliver of light from the hallway piercing its way into his room. He looks warm and soft, the way his face lays slack against the pillow. He’s made himself at home here. His knick knacks line the shelves, unpacked from their boxes after the move and scattered about. As she steps carefully inside, she spots a photo of them that once sat on a shelf in their office. He must have moved it here recently, part of the slow transfer of their lives out of the basement of the Hoover building. She can’t help but notice that it sits beside him on his nightstand, right next to his glasses and whatever book he’s been reading lately.

She lets out a breath, allowing the comfort he unknowingly offers to dull her senses. Just a minute longer, then she’ll go back to her room and give sleeping another shot.

Or she would have, if he hadn’t started to stir, slowly waking from his peaceful slumber. It’s almost like he’d sensed her there, some kind of psychological link that told him when she was near, and in distress. She quickly turns back to the door, hand on the door handle to open it and make her exit before he truly notices her presence, when she hears her name spoken in a confused whisper.

“Scully?”

Her shoulders slump in defeat, and her hand falls away from the doorknob.

“Sorry,” she says, turning to face him sheepishly. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

He props himself up on an elbow, blearily rubbing sleep from his eyes with a fist.

“You okay?” he asks.

Her mouth drops open to reassure him that, yes, she’s fine, but she takes just a second too long to answer, and she knows he sees right through her. It’s not even worth lying to him.

“Come here,” he says, scooting over to make room on the bed beside him. “We can talk, if you want.”

She really shouldn’t, but his offer is tantalizing. She’s too vulnerable to be in this position, right now. Who knows what will slip from her mouth in her exhausted and overwhelmed state? Her feet carry her toward the bed anyway, and she slides into place under the covers, staring blankly up at the ceiling as he settles on his side facing her on his side of the bed.

“Can’t sleep?” he asks knowingly.

She shakes her head, her hair rustling on the pillow.

“Took me a while to get to sleep too,” he admits. “A lot to think about. A lot, a lot.”

At least she’s not alone in this problem, she guesses. She hates feeling like the insecure one in any situation, and that’s how she’s felt more often than not throughout this process so far.

“What’s keeping you up?” he asks, gently urging her to open up.

She tries to shrug, but she knows she’ll have to come up with an answer sooner or later. There’s no reason to hide this from him. Sometimes, he knows her better than she knows herself, and that can be a blessing and a curse.

“I’m going to miss working with you, Mulder,” she says honestly, her lips sealed tight to fight back the slight tremble in them. She can’t stop hearing her own words spoken by the reflecting pool a few years ago. ‘If I quit now, they win.’

She feels a hand land on her upper arm, stroking it comfortingly. Her eyes flutter shut. She can lie to herself all she wants, but this is why she really came in here. There’s a type of comfort only Mulder has ever been able to bestow, and she needs it now more than ever.

“We’ll still be in the same building,” he says appeasingly. “We can get lunch together every day, talk about our classes, complain about the new recruits.”

It’s silly, but his words do help. She imagines sitting across from him in his own private office—probably decorated a lot like their current office is—and munching on a salad while listening to him complain about an essay one of his students turned in. It sounds pleasant. Easy. Maybe he can come help decorate her office too. She’s gotten used to his clutter. She isn’t sure she’d be able to work in the sparsely furnished office space like she’s naturally inclined to.

“And besides– We’ll still see each other here,” he adds. “Every night. And the weekends.”

The thought sends a thrill through her. Sometimes it still feels like a dream, what they’re doing. Giving up the X-Files… that’s a tangible thing. But the baby? She’s still an abstract idea, despite the fact that physical reminders of their plans are scattered throughout her apartment. The picture he’d painted earlier of a relaxing day at home together feels out of reach—like a nice idea that isn’t really attainable. Is she that traumatized from all the disappointment in her life?

“Are you sure you’re ready for this?” she asks, her mouth downturned in a frown. “I mean– I know you’ve said before that this is what you want, but I—”

“You’re gonna have to learn to trust me sometime, Scully,” Mulder says, a slight sadness in his voice.

She does. She does trust him—maybe even more than she trusts herself. That’s what the problem is.

“I do,” she says. “I’m sorry. I guess I’m just…”

“Freaking out?” he finishes, smiling at her in amusement.

“Just a little,” she says, returning his smile.

He breathes in deeply, his face pensive like it always is when he's mulling over a difficult question.

“I think we’re ready,” he says, projecting confidence into his voice. “I think you’re going to be a rockstar mom, and we’ll wonder why we didn’t do this years ago.”

“You think?”

“I know.”

“But what if—”

He shakes his head, putting a stop to her words immediately. “You gotta stop that, Scully,” he says seriously. “This is going to work out.” His fingers find the dainty necklace she wears, his thumb brushing over the cross. “Have faith,” he implores.

She closes her eyes, letting out a breath, and with it, trying to release some of the fear that keeps her up at night. She wants to do what he asks, to let herself go, but it's not as easy as that. Sometimes she can't help but feel like they're trying to cheat destiny, to force things into going their way when they've been repeatedly told “no” at every turn.

His reassurance does help, though. Wasn't that why she'd come here in the first place?

Mulder settles back, turning his attention back to the ceiling.

“What did you think of the new agents?” she asks after a moment, changing the subject. It’s hard to believe that it was just this morning that they’d interviewed a few of them, hoping to find some trustworthy hands to leave their work to.

“Reyes seems sharp,” Mulder says. “I think her background in folklore and ritualistic abuse is a good starting point.”

“Mm,” Scully hums her agreement. “And what about Doggett? Too staunch of a skeptic for you?”

Mulder chuckles. “He comes highly recommended by the higher ups, so I don’t know,” he says. “It’s always good to have a variety of opinions around, though, don’t you think?”

She turns her head to the left, her eyes meeting his in the darkened room, lit only by what little moonlight comes through the blinds.

“I think… we’ll be okay,” she says then, willing the words to be true as she speaks them. Her assertion brings a smile to his face, and he leans back on the pillow, focusing on the patterns on the ceiling like she had been a moment earlier.

“We will,” he agrees. “For once, I think we’ll be better than okay.”

~~~

Lovely tag list ♡: [if you would like to be added or removed, let me know!]

@today-in-fic @ao3feed-msr @agent-troi @angegova @baronessblixen @calimanc @captainsolocide @clo-thespin @cutemothman @danasculls @deathsbestgirl @edierone @enigmaticxbee @figureofdismay @frogsmulder @gillian-anderson-in-the-tardis @hippocampouts @invidiosa @monaiargancoconutsoy @msrafterdark @numinousmysteries @primrose19 @randomfoggytiger @skelavender @skylarksong @stephy-gold @teenie-xf @the-redhead-in-a-dress @vincentsleftear

#msr #txf #x files #xf fanfic #mulder and scully #my fanfiction #fox mulder #dana scully #of our own making #ooom #msr adoption fic #adoption

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isamoa · 5 months

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“ WHAT GETS THEM HARD! ”

jjk men x f!reader ࿐ MDNI.

ᰔ、summary. jjk scenarios on how their dicks get hard ofc

ᰔ、tags. (ft. gojo, geto, toji, choso), nsfw, female anatomy, cunnilingus, exhibitionism, sexting, masturbation, etc.

ᰔ、a/n. these are just my silly depictions. if u dont agree idgaf lol

SATORU GOJO has the dirtiest mind and the highest sex drive. his pants definitely start feeling a little tighter at the sight of you eating a popsicle or something. specifically in public. he would have no shame in it either—casually forming a smirk on his face and dropping a snarky innuendo about the way you’re eating. “can you suck me off like that when we get home?” he’d mumble from across the table, his eyes peeking out from the top of his glasses, a smirk plastered on his lips; wet from the constant licking of his tongue. your eyes widen, a small ‘pop’ sounding from your mouth when you took the frozen sweet out to gasp at the man in front of you. “gojo! are you serious?” you’d yell in a whisper, looking around to see if anyone had heard him. “you’re right,” he’d sigh, standing up from his chair to reveal the very prominent and very obvious bulge in his pants. “we should just do it now.”

SUGURU GETO on the other hand is a polite man. like satoru, he’s a real freak in the sheets—but not as shamelessly. the littlest things can get him hard for sure, but unintentionally seeing your undergarments would really get him going. like an accidental peek at your panties from under your skirt, or a shirt thats a little too see-through showing off the print on your bra. he wouldn’t say anything of course, not right away. you would just be minding your own business one minute and then he’s dragging you towards the bedroom the next. “sugu- what are you-?” you would ask in a confusing tone, craning your head to look at the said man who was now behind you—pushing your stomach up against the countertop; a single hand brought up to grope your breast while the other laid flat against your hip. “your bra is showing.” he’d let you know blankly; an attempt to distract you while his hand slid it’s way into your pants. you would look down in response to his comment, noticing that your bra was in-fact showing like he said. unfortunately for him, you also already noticed the hardon pressed against your back.

TOJI FUSHIGURO gets hard from eating pussy. simple as that. he will get embarrassingly sloppy—juices coating his face and dripping down his chin, loving every second of it while his cock slowly grows harder. emphasis on grows. and if you think for a second that he does it for your pleasure, think again. this man will eat you out purely for his enjoyment only. his eyes are closed and his hands are squeezing at your thighs—legs thrashing uncontrollably from the uncomfortable pressure in his pants that’s about to come undone. “toji- let me help you.” you’d beg with a whimper, dragging your hand from the top of his head down to his cheek when you noticed the constant shuffling of his legs and the crease in his eyebrow. he’d laugh darkly, the breathy snicker creating a hum between your core that made a whine escape from your lips. “im fine mama,” he’ll say cockily, pulling a hand away from your leg to undo his zipper. “ill cum soon, you don’t gotta do ‘nun.”

CHOSO is a needy guy. his face will turn red at a simple flirty text—but send him a slutty pic and he might just cream his pants. fully naked or dressed in lingerie, his favorite or not, he will definitely feel some pressure down below. he might ignore you for a while, uncertain on how he should reply; if he’s even able to. “fuck- couldn’t wait till i got home, could you?” he’d whine quietly, trying his best to keep his voice down from the bathroom of his office job; one hand holding the phone up to his ear while the other rushed to unbuckle his belt. “sorry cho,” you’d apologize from the other line, voice rather faint as you posed for another picture to send him. “when are you coming?” you ask doubtfully just as his phone vibrates with another notification from your contact. “now- im comin’ now baby.” he replies with a huff, phone almost slipping from his ear. “really!?” you try to clarify—much more excited than the first time. “no, i mean im cumming. right now.”

#my goofy ahh side coming out with the choso one #THIS TOOK FOREVER #toji x reader #toji smut #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #gojo x reader #gojo smut #geto x reader #geto smut #choso x reader #choso smut #jjk scenarios #jjk x reader #jjk men x reader #jjk smut #isamoa #jujutsu kaisen smut

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tteokdoroki · 8 months

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✩ — ANGELS SHOULD NEVER FALL THIS FAR FROM HEAVEN ⁀➷ everyone believes satoru gojo to be an angel. your mother considers her new son to be a blessing, even if he’s bratty and spoiled. but never once did think teasing him would make your step-brother to act on such ungodly desires. (3.2K)

warnings. minors, blank and ageless blogs do not interact ! nsfw, smut, pwp, college!au, religious imagery, step-cest, groping, fingering, ‘just the tip’, exhibitionism, clothed sex, male masturbation, slight degradation, bratty behaviour, use of oneesan, unprotected sex, ruined orgasms, cumplay, fem!reader, step-bro!gojo.

things to note. lol sorry it’s been a while !! trying a new layout also posting this into the void while i work on kinktober eee !! idk i’ve had a rough time trying to write a one shot so im glad i could make this !! special thanks to @kishibye for beta reading. i hope you enjoy this bestie boos ily <3

“what are you doing?” there’s a sharp edge to the tone of satoru’s voice, splayed across his tongue that holds back a stream of curses. his eyes speak fury in their piping hot flames of wild cerulean as he watches you enter the kitchen and shoot straight for the snack cupboard.

you can feel the weight of his gaze as it crosses the slopes of your body, from the back of your head, twirling around your curves before ultimately falling to your behind.

playing innocent, you stand on your tip toes and grasp at the bag of chips you’re after. the ones on the top shelf. “whaddya mean ‘what am i doing’?”

“what do you mean what do i mean?” your step brother retorts childishly, as if you’re two kids fighting on a playground at recess.

you click your tongue and pay him no mind. “don’t be such a baby, satoru,” you wave a hand in his face in a haughty manner. “use your big boy words.”

gojo suppresses a whine when your shirt rides up and reveals your skin to gorgeous eyes. he lets it gargle around in his throat like the sting of cool mouthwash, before striding over to you — grabbing the chips and slamming the cupboard shut so hard it makes you jump.

“you can’t just walk around dressed like that.”

he gestures to your get up — the clothes you wear when nobody’s home. your sapphire silly and scallop-edged panties, your old and ratty band t-shirt haphazardly thrown on.

“why?” you turn around to come face to face with your younger (step)brother, noting the way his stare hones in on the plush meat of your thighs as you squish them together — leaning back against the kitchen counter.

“my friends are coming over.”

“so, what’s the big deal?” there’s something about pissing gojo off that entertains you. he’s a brat by all means, raised with a silver spoon in his mouth and daddy’s dollars tucked into his pockets. whenever there’s a problem, all it takes is a classic ‘toru temper tantrum and your parents are on the scene to fix things for him. he’ll never know the hardships of being raised by a single mother, always having a little less than most. he walks around in his own little bubble of riches - and you can’t help but want to pop it. “shoko thinks i’m cool and geto will probably jack off to me later. it’s whatever.”

“but it’s not whatever,” you can practically see satoru fight the urge to stomp his foot like a petulant child — even going as far to have the audacity to pout down at you. “you’ll just embarrass me. so do us both a favour and put some clothes on, nobody wants to see all that ‘round the house.”

“do you own this house?”

“no but i-“

“but your daddy does. and daddy isn’t here! so shut up, satoru!” jabbing a finger into his chest, you smile up at your not-so-little little step-brother, evilly. “i make the rules.”

“oh fuck you. all you do is mooch off of my dad, princess. you wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for your mom whoring it out for him.” he sneers in response, upper lip curling into a distasteful snarl like a dog with a stranger on its territory. his words, though cruel and foul, are far from the truth and you know that he doesn’t mean it. satoru is a brat that throws acid laced words at anyone who gets in his way — yourself included.

even though you agree that your parents tied the knot all too fast — barely giving the two of you a chance to get to know each other as siblings. they were in love and far too happy for the rivalry between their children to get in the way. you know that the fact pissed gojo off to no end, he hated how your mother doted on him and how he’d always needed to fight for his father’s attention. now it certainly wasn’t ever going to be on him. but the two women in his house instead.

your poor, spoiled, baby brother.

however, you won’t let his words and how he projects onto you, hurt you. “whoops! looks like i dropped my will to give a fuck!” whilst pretending to drop your snack, you bend over in front of him to reveal inches of beauty marked and blemished flesh, drawing hungry seafoam eyes to the bounce of showing your ass — testing your little step brother. “i don’t care satoru, i’m older.”

satoru’s mouth snaps shut after moments of wordlessly opening and closing. he stands frozen on the spot, as if he can’t seem to process the very idea that his older step-sister had just flashed him to prove a point.

but just when you think you’ve won, the silver-haired brat is pressed right up behind you, forcing your body to bend over the cold marble counter that instantly has your nipples hardening against the icy surface. heat rushes to your face, blossoming just under the barrier of your skin as his hard on nestles it’s way between your ass cheeks — a symphony of your surprised squeaks echoing through the modern kitchen.

“hey! what the hell do you think you’re doing?”

instead of responding, he pushes your head down against the counter — circling his increasingly wet erection against your behind, manhandling the globes of flesh back onto his dick. “not so fun, is it.” he coos down at you, voice chilly and full of condescending highs and lows. “yanno…you’re awfully mean to me.”

saliva pools on your tongue, weighing it down in your mouth like a paperweight as satoru’s girth slips downwards, seedy tip brushing over panty clad and your swollen clit. “aren’t oneesan’s s’pposed to take care of their baby brothers?” his breath is hot and ragged against your ear as gojo haunches over you, caging you in like a wild animal as you thrash and writhe under his touch.

you can’t even bring yourself to feel an ounce of shame when gojo’s left hand dances between your tangled limbs and slips past the frilly band of your underwear — ghosting over the throbbing pearl laying between your sticky pussy lips. “step…step brother!” you whinge at the tingle of pleasure that blooms in your lower tummy and spreads like angel wings throughout the rest of your body.

satoru takes turns playing with you, alternating between his nimble, skilled fingers and his seedy girth that smears precum all over your inner thighs and panties. “like that even fuckin’ matters.” he laughs, twisted and proud. “could you get off like this? yeah i think you could…. you’re already so wet. just from grinding on your little brother’s cock.”

your legs grow shaky at his ministrations, beads of your juices oozing from your empty entrance to stain the man’s sweats, slicking him up as if it’s a signature of your claim. “‘toru!” you gasp, eyes rolling back into the depth of your skull. “m-more.”

“look at how fast you fold for me…” he pushes up your shirt so that the fabric pools around your waist — pawing at the fat there, massaging your hips softly as if he isn’t violently, cruelly rubbing one out on your achey pussy. “i don’t think you’re in a position to ask me for more, big sis.” satoru taunts, a heavy hand coming down on the bare skin of your ass, leaving a raw handprint in its place. “such a nasty slut, i bet you’d let me fuck you like this too. out in the open, where anyone could catch us.”

you yelp in surprise at the feeling of gojo’s messy, cream coated cockhead nudge at your entrance from over your panties — a slender finger pulling the soaked material to the side so he can fuck you with his tip. “oh, i bet you’d like that, huh baby?” he continues to purr, jutting his hips forward ever so slightly — feeding your greedy cunt a few more inches of him. satoru’s barely sheathed inside of you, but you’re already stretching deliciously around what he’s given you. he’s fat, girthy just as he is long and his mushroom tip drags along sensitive spots in your walls you didn’t even know you had.

he hasn’t even fucked you properly yet.

you sob, wail and writhe on your little step brother’s cock, nails clawing at the marble counter while your breath escapes you. “satoru, please fuck me. ‘m sorry… sorry—!”

“shh big sis, you’re being too loud,” he cups a hand over your mouth. gojo eases two digits past your plump lips to pacify your cries as he shallowly pumps his wet cock into the heat of your sex — gritting his teeth to hide his own moans. “we…fuck, you’re tight as shit… we wouldn’t want my friends to know that you dress like a slut for my cock, would we?”

you shake your head with a muffled moan, suckling the taste of yourself from gojo’s fingers and breathing heavily through your nose. “no, we wouldn’t. that’s right. good girl, oh shit.”

satoru laughs, a little cocky and a little drawn out in a long, whiny whimper over the wet slap of the backs of your thighs in the front of his own. but he trembles from behind you, like his legs are about to give out every time your creamy cunt sucks a little more of him in. it’s a miracle he’s managed to hold you both up.

guilt wracks your body intertwining with the red blood cells coursing through your veins and carrying limited oxygen to your brain — your head practically empty at how your little brother ruins you on half of his fat cock. this isn’t right, this is completely wrong and yet you feel yourself coming undone — weak in the knees and shaky in your lips, the dam in your lower tummy threatening to burst at any second and flood the room in an erotic river of your arousal.

pushing your head off of the counter, you lean into satoru, throwing your ass back onto him in rhythm with the harshness of his thrusts. everything is hotter, heavier and you can’t even think about how much of a bad step-sister you are when he’s dominating your body like this. the silky locks of satoru’s silvering hair press against your shoulder and he wraps a fist in the fabric of your shirt to pull you further back onto his cock.

“‘m gonna c-cum, oh god!” you squeal, flinching as your juices crudely slap against the kitchen floor. “i’m so close!”

he pants into your ear like a desperate dog, fully wrapping himself around you and trapping you against the counter so that you have nowhere to go except towards your high. “yeah?” gojo breathes heatedly, temperate breath cascading over the back of your neck and only adding fuel to your fire of desire. “i can tell, you get like this. all needy ‘n cute when you’re about to cum.”

his words have you clenching around his bulbous tip every time it pushes up against the pleasure spots you didn’t even know you had — your arousal catching in the pretty blue veins that spiral around the length of gojo’s shaft. “you don’t think i can’t hear you, big sis? late at night when you think everyone’s sleepin’….” his whistle tone moans are quickly replaced by deep growls and grunts that only just manage to escape from between the gritted rows of your step brother’s pearly whites. “when you stuff those tiny fingers into that tight little hole and—“

he reaches down between your mess of slick soaked limbs to land a harsh smack against your quivering pussy, sending the foamy ring of white where your bodies join flying about the place. “—and make yourself cum to the thought of me?” he continues, breathing ragged and laughing at you again when you cry out in a mix of pain and pleasure.

“s-satoru!”

he soothes you with quick circles over your swollen clit and kisses to your shoulder — being careful not to leave marks. “oh did that hurt, baby? am i the mean one now?” licking a stripe up the side of your face and tasting the sweat on your glistening skin, satoru rambles on — filling you up with praises and copious amounts of precum. “you know i—fuck— you know i love you. my precious big sister, so fucking good to me. let’s make you cum, yeah?”

you’re allowed to rut back on him for a little longer, since he loves the sound of his name whirling around messily on your tongue, all high-pitched and sugar coated for him. if only you knew how badly he’d wanted you, how pissed he was when his father went on to marry your mother. gojo has wanted you since the very first night you met — his every waking thought has been carefully carved to lust after you, think of your eyes, your smile, your lips. fuck, everything about you has satoru under some kind of spell.

“r-right there. right there, t-there!” you chant the words like they’re the a prayer, as if they’re the only ones you know, allowing satoru to throw you through the loop of pleasure until you’re too far gone to stay on the ride.

angling his slender hips upwards, his cockhead bares down on the gummy centre of your g-spot just has he buries himself inside of you — right up to the hilt. “h-here? this where you want me, big sis?” gojo’s amused gasp turns into a coo when you let out a meek hum of agreement, babling wild nonsense and drooling into the counter you’re pressed against. “mmhm, got you creamin’ around me already. so cute, so good when you listen. when you’re a good t’me, oneesan.”

the honorific alone has your mouth running dry as if it’s been stuffed with cotton. though the syrupy pap, pap, pap of your sex says otherwise. it tells the truth of your sin.

and the thing that you don’t know about satoru is that he loves to give, feeding pieces of himself to you as he fucks you wild in the middle of your family kitchen. he wants you to have all of him, every corner and inch of his body just like he dreamed about. he knows it’s forbidden and that it’s wrong, but he can’t help but relish in the feeling of your pretty pussy sucking him in so selfishly, greedily clamping down on his thick base.

he would give you anything. anything you wanted and asked for if you’d let him. his hands slip from your waist to intertwine with yours splayed out on the cool marble surface, using his last spurts of energy to drag you towards your orgasm and the deep depths of sinner’s paradise.

“fuck me, fuck me, baby.” he growls possessively against the shell of your ear. “let go for me. lemme see how much you love your little brother—“

the crescendo of your pleasure is at an all time high, about to come crashing down on you like a tonne of heavy bricks.

that is until the door bell rings, accompanied by the sound of geto’s voice from the outside of the house. “yoo, satoru! open up!”

you’d think that you’d have been good enough for your little step-brother to keep going — to push onwards and let you cream all over him before he went to attend to his silly little friends. but he flips the script, pulling out of you just as you teeter over the edge to ruin your orgasm.

“no, no, please!” you sniffle, teary eyed with dissatisfaction sitting in your lower belly — the need to cum still there but the feeling of emptiness within your dripping walls taking over. “satoru…” you whine.

when you look behind you, he’s too busy finishing himself off — his black shirt between his teeth, sweats hanging low on his waist while gojo palms his hard and heavy cock as he pleases.

it’s coated in your arousal, shining under the artificial lighting in the kitchen and you watch with a pout as gojo jacks himself off to the view of your ruined cunt. he thumbs the seedy slit at the centre of his bright red tip, hissing through the sensitivity. he’s a picture perfect vision, appearing as an angel before your very eyes. a mop of halo white hair flop backwards with satoru’s head, rich sapphire eyes locked behind fluttering lashes that glisten with pearls of pleasure filled tears.

you know not to be mistaken, you know that satoru is more like an incubus than the heavenly being he presents as. the parts of your brain with better judgement see him as the sinner who made you fall from grace, committing such a heinous act. the desperate side of you with a brain full of lust and smoke screens sees your step-brother as a god who controls all of your desires.

you think you prefer that side of you more.

meanwhile, a drop of sweat runs a track down the length of satoru’s neck, catching on the curve of his Adam’s apple as he swallows down his euphoric laments. you find yourself jealous that his own fingers are wrapped around his sloppy dick instead of drawing shapes against your aching clit. you envy how good it must feel for satoru when he finally cums. ropes of thick white sling around his knuckles, much paler in contrast to his pearlescent skin tone.

a deep, gravelly moan erupts from his hot mouth like lava, accompanied by curses and the stuttered syllables you recognise to be your name while he finishes himself off. gojo jerks his sensitive cock over your ass to paint you with the last spurts of his release. it’s a claim on you as your step-brother, a way in which he can show you that he always gets his way no matter what.

whilst still recovering, your step-brother drags a slender finger through the puddle of cum he’s left on you, and drags it down to your stretched little hole before pushing it against your overstimulated clit. “hmm, so pretty.” gojo grins, slow and sly, when you twitch and attempt to jolt away from him. then unexpectedly, he lands a hard smack against your bum — revelling in your sweet cry of pleasure, impatience and pain. “go put somethin’ on, will ya, sis? my friends are still waiting outside.”

“i…i hate you.” you whimper shakily, brain frazzled from the situation.

satoru might be a spoiled brat, but he’s not mean enough to leave you here a shaky, dripping mess so he helps you to your feet — tenderly fixing the hem of your shirt and panties back into place (failing to wipe his cum off of you beforehand). you’re still pouting from your ruined orgasm once he’s done, and he nudges the underside of your chin with a singular knuckle.

“don’t worry big sis, i’ll come take care of you later. maybe i’ll even let geto watch since you love prancing around half naked for him too.” he teases, squishing your cheeks as you try to swat at him. “and you don’t hate me, you love me and this cock. clearly.” gojo sings and sends a cheeky wink in your before prancing away to open the door for his friends.

he pulls his pants up as he goes, not minding the wet patch you’ve left on him.

whereas, you scurry up to your room before they can greet you and gojo tells them that you’re feeling unwell.

that day, you learn two valuable lessons:

one — never mess with a spoiled brat, it’ll never end well for you and gojo will always get what he wants no matter who pays the bills.

two — geto really does like to jerk off to you, even more so when he watches his best friend punishes his older step-sister with enough orgasms to make her forget why she was in trouble with satoru in the first place.

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fetusgooseandjuice · 27 days

Text

Soulmates

Pairings: Knight!Natasha Romanoff x Princess!Reader

Summary: A silly dream you and Natasha shared as kids turns out to be your destiny.

Word Count: 5.05k

Warnings: Injuries — (broken bones, cuts, bruises)

Author’s Note: Another one that’s been collecting dust. At this point I’m just deep cleaning my drafts I hope you like it 💕

Mini-oneshot: Forever

Natasha and you had been raised alongside each other since birth.

As the royal heir you were born the kingdoms Princess, and would one day step up after your parents stepped down from their positions as King and Queen.

Meanwhile, once Natasha became of age her father began her training as she was meant to become the young Princesses Royal Knight.

Both of your families had always been close friends. Natasha’s father was your father’s best solider, so you and the redhead had practically grown up together.

The bond between your two families meant that you and the young knight spent a lot of time together. So much time that as you grew up, you and Natasha inevitably fell for each other and only continued to as you got older.

Your parents knew you two had something special from the gecko, but no one knew if it was just puppy love, or if it’d turn out to be the love story you’d only ever hear about in books.

That thought always took up a space in your mind, just like it was right now.

How you got so lucky to be the one in a billion to actually live one of those love stories.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

“Nat! Natty, wait for me!” you call out to the slightly older girl.

Natasha always teased you for being younger than her even if it was only by a few months. She stopped in her tracks and turned around, waiting a moment for you to catch up to her as your feet quickly patted against the pavement outside.

“Sorry, princess,” she gazed at you once you reached her. “I’m just really excited to see where our parents are taking us.”

Your cheeks flushed a pink tint at the pet name and your heart fluttered. People were supposed to formally address you as Princess since that’s who you were, but whenever Natasha called you that you both knew it had a different meaning.

Natasha always had such a soft spot for you. Some might call it puppy love, but both of your parents believed it was the cutest thing to ever exist.

As she had a couple inches over you, you had to latch onto her arm and lean up on your tippy-toes to peck her cheek. This time it was Natasha’s turn to blush.

“Well, now we can go down there together.” you said and gave her a sweet smile that made her heart double in beats per minute.

Both of your mothers playfully shook their heads to themselves as they made their way over to you, watching the interaction.

“She’s a smooth little girl.” Melina commented with a chuckle.

Your mother chuckled, “Yeah, I don’t know where she got that from because it definitely was not her father.”

You two on the other hand were completely oblivious of their presence as you became immersed in chasing each other around the castle garden, your loud giggles rumbling through air.

“Don’t let him hear you say that.” Melina laughed along with your mother.

The two women watched as Natasha caught up to you and pulled you into her arms. “They’re too cute.” your mother cooed and Melina nodded her head, smiling widely.

At some point Natasha had picked a yellow flower from the grass and place it in your hair with sophistication, admiring how it just accentuated your already beautiful features.

She brought you into a tight hug and dramatically pleaded, “Marry me, Y/n! Marry me so nothing will ever come between us and we can be together forever and ever!”

“Yes! A trillion times yes, Natasha! I will marry you even if it’s the last thing I do!” You theatrically declared, mimicking a woman in a television show.

Natasha pulled back and leaned in with her lips exaggeratedly puckered out way too far and cheeks puffed out so much they could’ve popped, but before she could reach yours she was lifted up into her father’s arms.

“Alright, you little player. You’re not quite ready for that one just yet.” Alexei teased the young redhead.

Natasha scoffed. “I am not a player! Y/n is my fiancé and I am going to make her my wife! I put a flower on it and everything!” she argued with a pout.

That was when your own father scooped you up into his arms and spun you around. “Aren’t you just the enchantress? You’ve got little Natasha all lovestruck and heart eyed. Poor girl.”

You giggled before you heard Natasha call out in annoyance. “I am not little!”

Amused looks spread across your mothers’ faces at the precious scene. At the time, no one knew that your’ and Natasha��s pretend was destined to become a reality.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

(Time jump to around 11 years old)

“Nat, are you sure you know we’re you’re going?” you asked, hesitation evident in your voice as she guided you by your hand through the trees.

This would be the third time you asked her this question, so she playfully rolled her eyes at your uncertainty.

“Yes, Y/n, I come here all the time after training. Stop worrying your pretty little head so much, you’ll give yourself a headache.” Natasha assured.

Normally her sweet talk would have you swooning, but this time you were too distracted by the uneasiness you felt about where you were. Natasha had dragged you out to the forest behind the kingdom, saying she had something special that she wanted you to see.

You two had snuck away when your parents were busy, so no one even knew where you were, but you of course agreed because you trust the redhead with everything you have.

“Okay, we’re here.” Natasha’s voice brought you out of your thoughts.

You looked around in confusion, seeing nothing besides an abnormally large tree.

“What is it that you wanted to show me?” you finally spoke.

The young knight chuckled at your slightly furrowed eyebrows, “Follow me.” was all she said before beginning to climb up the tall tree.

“What— Natasha what’re you doing?”

“Come on, this is the only way you’ll see it.” she attempted to encourage you.

You were still very unsure about it so you just watched from the ground as she made her way up the tree. She eventually stopped and made herself comfortable on one of the limbs. “I don’t think this is a good idea.” you projected your voice up to her.

“Come on, Y/n, trust me! The view is beautiful from up here. It’s like you can the whole world!” Natasha called down to you.

You contemplated once more before finally giving in. You followed the path you had watched the redhead take and began climbing the tree. However, you had only made it about halfway when a branch you had grabbed onto began to snap.

Before you could even yell for Natasha like you had originally intended, the branch snapped completely and you yelped instead as you fell.

Your mind had barely registered the young knight calling out your name when you hit the ground. The air was knocked out of your lungs, but you noticed the sharp pain that shot up your arm the most.

“Y/n!” Natasha panicked, and when she heard you cry out tears she quickly made her way down to you.

The words to ask you what was hurting were on the tip of her tongue, but that question was answered when she saw you holding your arm and a few scratches on the side of your face.

Natasha didn’t know what to do.

You were sobbing and clearly in a lot of pain, so she lifted you into her arms bridal style and ran as fast as her legs would take her back to the kingdom without causing you any further discomfort.

Ignoring all the looks from passing townspeople, she bolted up the castle stairs and rushed inside.

“Mom! Mom, dad, where are you! Mom!” Natasha frantically searched every room for either of your parents.

They must’ve heard her shouting because they exited the meeting room and saw the young knight running straight towards them with you crying in her arms.

“Natasha, what happened?” Melina asked her daughter with furrowed eyebrows.

“I wanted to show Y/n this really nice view, but we had to climb a tree in order to see it. She didn’t even want to do it in the first place but I convinced her to, and she fell and I think she hurt her arm.” Natasha explained to the four adults as your father gently took you into his arms.

She began to tear up and followed them to the infirmary, “I— I just wanted to show her something I thought she’d like. I didn’t mean for this to happen, I didn’t mean for her to get hurt.”

Your mother placed a comforting hand on the young girls shoulder to get her attention, “It’s okay, Natasha. We know you’d never put her in harms way on purpose, but you did good bringing her back because now we can help her.”

Natasha wiped away the tears in her eyes, although it was no use because more began to fall anyway, “It’s all my fault, I’m the one who took her out there to begin with. She’d be okay if it weren’t for me.”

“Now, now, Natasha. Stop being so hard on yourself. I’m sure Y/n won’t blame you once she’s all patched up.” Your mother reassured, and she was right.

A couple hours later your parents informed the young redhead and her parents of your condition. The force of the impact when you hit the ground had broken your arm, and you had a few light scratches on your cheek that should quickly fade.

The doctor gave your parents some medication to help with any pain you had, and allowed them to take you back to your own bedroom. When Natasha was asked if she would like to see you she of course said yes, but couldn’t ignore the nerves she felt.

Would you be upset with her?

Your mothers led Natasha to your bedroom and opened the door for her to enter, but she hesitated. She felt as though her feet were glued to the floor.

“Are you sure?” the knight in training asked. “I don’t think she’d want to see me.”

Your mother crouched down to Natasha’s height to look at her. “Can I let you in on a little secret?” she said and Natasha nodded. “Between you and me I think you’re the first person she’d wanna see.”

The young girl sat with those words for a moment longer and contemplated before finally stepping into you room. When she reached your beside she realized that you were sound asleep.

Natasha’s eyes scanned the peaceful expression on your face. Your eyelashes just barely brushed against your cheeks, and your slow breathing was heard through the quietness of the room.

Her gaze traveled down to the white cast around your arm and a sense of guilt washed over her, but she tried to disregard that feeling and just focus on you.

She noticed a lock of hair that had started to fall in front of your face, so Natasha tucked it behind your ear. However, she regretted that decision when your eyes fluttered open and met hers.

Your lips pulled up into a small smile. “Hi, Natty.”

“Hey,” she practically whispered.

You frowned at her vague and quiet response. “What’s wrong?” you wondered.

Natasha sighed and let her eyes travel back to your injured arm. “I’m sorry. I should’ve listened when you said you didn’t wanna go up, and now you’re hurt because of me.”

“Hey,” you sat up and placed a hand over the young knights hand. Her heart skipped a beat at the contact and she met your gaze again. “It was an accident, Nat. I don’t blame you for this, and I’m okay now.”

“I know. I just hated seeing you in so much pain knowing I talked you into doing it.”

You looked at her with soft eyes that instantly calmed her racing mind. “Well you did carry me all the way back, so I guess that makes up for it. All of those extra hours you put into your training finally paid off.” you both giggled.

Maybe this whole situation wasn’t as bad as Natasha convinced herself it was.

“You wanna sign my cast? It looks kind of boring right now.” you asked.

Natasha smiled and nodded her head, looking around the room for something to write with. She spotted a red marker on your large dresser and grabbed it before returning to your side.

She gently took your arm into her hand and signed her name, attempting to draw a few hearts around it, but they just ended up uneven and lopsided.

Nevertheless, they were special.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

(Time jump to 16 Years Old)

“Mom!” Natasha called out as she rushed down the stairs, nearly tripping on the last step whilst she tucked her maroon button-up shirt into her black slacks. “Does this look okay? Should I try on a different one?”

Melina examined the outfit her daughter was wearing before smiling at her, “You look wonderful, sweetheart. Stop worrying so much, you’ll make yourself sick.”

“Are you wearing my pants?” Yelena said as he walked into the room alongside Alexei.

Natasha glared at her sister while slipping on the jacket and straightening out the collar of her shirt with the help of Melina.

“Your mother is right, honey. I’m sure Y/n will love it.” Alexei chimed in.

Today was your sixteenth birthday, and your parents thought it would be the perfect opportunity to throw a ball to celebrate this milestone. Everyone in the kingdom received an invitation in the mail, but the Romanoffs were obviously at the top of the guest list.

Natasha was no doubt nervous. She so badly wanted to make an impression on you, but would never admit it to avoid her family’s very unfunny jokes.

Unfortunately for her, she didn’t have to disclose that information in order for her parents and sister to know that she and the young princess always had a thing for each other, even as little kids.

“Oh, so that’s why you stole my pants.” Yelena smirked. “So you could impress your little girlfriend.” she spoke in a teasing tone.

The young knight rolled her eyes, “She is not my girlfriend.”

“Well I suggest you try to change that before someone else decides to sweep her off her feet.”

Before Natasha could retaliate Melina saved her the trouble, “Alright you two, let’s get going before we’re late.” She ushered her family out the front door and gave Natasha a reassuring squeeze to her shoulder.

People were still making their way inside when they arrived. Your parents stood at the entrance welcoming people into the castle, and their eyes lit up when they saw their most dearest friends walking up the steps.

“Melina, Alexei, Natasha, Yelena! You’re finally here, thank you for coming!” Your father greeted the family while your mother gave each of them a quick hug.

“You all look lovely tonight.” she said.

“Oh, the same goes for you two as well.” Melina returned the compliment.

Your mother looked towards Natasha, “Y/n is still in her room getting ready and should be down in just a few minutes, but you’re welcome to go find her if you’d like.”

Natasha nodded, “Thank you, Mrs. Y/l/n.” she responded before moving past them to make her way to your room.

She knocked on the door and smiled to herself when she heard your comforting voice call out.

“Just a second!”

A few moments later the door opened and you stood face to face, “Nat!” you exclaimed happily and pulled her in for a tight hug.

“Hey, birthday girl.” Natasha chuckled. “Am I interrupting anything?”

You let her go and shook your head, “Not at all. I’m just about ready anyway.” you answered and returned to your spot in front of your mirror.

Natasha migrated further into the room and rested against your bed frame. “Well, you look amazing.” she said.

You turned to look back at her with a smile on your lips, “Thanks,” you replied and took in her attire. “You don’t look too bad yourself.”

The young knight smiled and looked down while you went back to fixing your hair. Natasha tried her best not to stare, but that was proving to be difficult as she kept lifting her head to glance at you.

She decided to break the comfortable silence to distract herself. “Is now a good time for me to give you your gift? I know it’s not time to open presents yet, but I think it’ll look good with your dress.”

You looked back at her again, “Nat, you didn’t have to get me anything.”

“I knew you’d say that, but I wanted to.” Natasha moved to stand behind you before meeting your eyes through the mirror.

When she pulled something out of her pocket and gently placed it around your neck, you realized that it was a necklace, the charm attached shimmering in the light.

You looked down at the piece of jewelry in awe, “Oh Nat, it’s beautiful.” you said and turned around completely to face her.

“It looks even better on you.” she flattered. You couldn’t stop your cheeks from turning a light shade of pink and Natasha grinned at the effect she had on you.

It took a moment for you to gather your composure before taking her hand in yours. “Come on, there’s an entire party downstairs and I wanna see what kind of food they have.” you both giggled as you dragged her down the stairs and to the ballroom.

Hours later the party was now in full swing. You had received happy birthday wishes from so many people you lost count, and ate so many different desserts that you’d probably have a stomachache the next day.

When people began setting down their drinks to find space to dance, Natasha looked towards you and thought she’d take the opportunity to ask you to dance with her.

“May I have—” she started to say, but was interrupted when a young boy around your age approached you.

“Um, excuse me, Princess. Would you like to dance with me?” he asked, clearly nervous considering his fidgeting hands.

As much as you wanted to decline his offer, you felt obligated to accept as you were the kingdoms princess. You looked at Natasha with an apologetic expression and told her you’d be right back before following the boy.

Anyone that looked at the redhead would be able to tell she was annoyed— it was written all over here face.

So when she made her way over to her family, Yelena raised an eyebrow. “What’s up with you?”

The young knight sighed and crossed her arms over her chest, “Someone else decided to sweep her off her feet.”

All she could do was watch as you kept getting pulled away to dance with people. Whenever a song ended and you tried to make your way back over to her, someone else was by your side asking to dance. To both of you, it felt like forever before you were finally back together.

The song came to an end you were practically speed walking to where Natasha was standing off to the side in a successful attempt to avoid getting pulled away again.

“Hey, I’m so sorry. I swear they just kept coming out of no where.” you breathed out, gulping down your glass of water to catch your breath.

Natasha smiled and shook her head, “It’s okay, is it my turn now or are you too worn out?”

You playfully rolled your eyes and laughed, “Don’t be ridiculous, Natty.” you took her hand and led her to an empty space amongst other dancing people.

Her arms encircled your waist while yours wrapped loosely around her neck. Neither of you exactly knew how to dance, so you just gently swayed with the music.

The young knight found that the annoyance she was feeling early could no longer be felt now that she finally had you. She was too happy to focus on anything except you— but there was one other thing on her mind.

“Can I ask you something?” Natasha said.

You hummed, nodding your head. “Of course, Nat.”

She sighed contently and tightened her hold on you. “I think we both know that we’ve felt something for each other that’s more than best friends, even as little kids. I mean my parents still won’t let me forget about that time I asked you to marry me when we were what? Six?” she spoke and you both laughed at the memory.

“And I did say yes. Actually, if I recall correctly I was pretty enthusiastic about it too.” you giggled.

“Yeah, you were.” Natasha grinned. “But I wanted to know if you’d maybe wanna make our relationship official. You know, so I can be the only one you dance with at parties like these.” she asked hopefully.

You looked at her with a smirk plastered across your face and raised eyebrows. “Are you asking me to be your girlfriend?”

“Well— yeah…I am.”

You smiled and laid your head on her shoulder, “I’d love nothing more, Nat.” you said and your answer brought an even bigger grin to her face.

What you didn’t know was that your mothers were watching the scene unfold from across the room, sipping on glasses of expensive wine.

Your mother playfully shook her head, “Like true soulmates.” she spoke and Melina hummed in agreement.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

(Two years later)

“Do you have to go?” you said sadly.

You stood on the dock clutching onto the young knight as if she’d disappear into thin air if you let go while she held you just as tight. Both of your families stood around talking, watching the saddening encounter.

Natasha was about to leave for her first ever commission. It was an overseas assignment for her to prove her ability to protect the kingdoms Princess, so as much as she didn’t want to leave you, she had to.

The young knight cupped the back of your head with one hand and pressed her nose into your hair, basking in the comforting scent of your shampoo to soak up her last few moments with you before her departure.

“You’ll be okay, Y/n. Three weeks, and then I’ll be back with you again.” she assured.

“Three weeks without you is too long.” you said. You and Natasha had always been inseparable, so it was hard knowing that she’d be so far away.

“I know, princess, I know.” Natasha whispered into your hair. It was only when she heard you sniffle and felt tears wetting her neck that she pulled back to look at you. “Hey,” she cooed and cupped your cheeks.

“It’ll go by so fast you won’t even remember I’m gone. Yelena promised me she’d keep you company, and she basically is me because she’s my sister, so hopefully you won’t miss me too much.”

That made a small smile pull at your lips. “No offense to Yelena, but no one could ever compare to you, Nat. I’ll miss you so much, and what if you get hurt over there?” you said.

Natasha smiled and kissed your forehead, “I’ll be okay, princess. It’ll all be okay, I promise.”

Her thumbs swiped under your eyes to wipe away your tears before she closed the distance between the two of you and connected your lips.

You both knew you had to keep it short and sweet considering both of your families were still there.

“I love you so much, Nat.” you whispered.

She gazed lovingly at you, “I love you more, my beautiful girl. So much more.” the words fell from Natasha’s lips ever so softly.

You were unfortunately brought out of your little bubble with Natasha much sooner than you would’ve liked when over her shoulder, you caught sight of Natasha’s commander walking off of the ship and towards you.

He cleared his throat, now catching everyone’s attention. “I hate to do this, but the captain’s ready. It’s time to go, romanoff.” he announced.

Your heart dropped as you’d been dreading this moment.

“Yes, sir. I’ll be just a second.” Natasha said.

He nodded his head and walked back onto the ship.

The young knight turned to you and sighed, “I guess that’s my cue.” she said and you nodded in understanding.

Natasha let go of you to approach her family, giving her parents and a hug as well as your parents. She exchanged words with them that you couldn’t really hear before making her way back over to you.

She delicately cupped your face in her hands and pressed her lips to yours once again. You both poured all of your love and passion for each other into the kiss, knowing it’d be the last one until she got back.

You pulled away and rested your forehead against hers. “See you in three weeks?”

“See you in three weeks.” she promised.

You let Natasha go and watched as she boarded. The ship departed soon after.

The castle suddenly became quieter for you with the young knight gone. You of course had to continue with your usual duties and responsibilities because life goes on, but it wasn’t the same without Natasha around.

What made it bearable was that you still had your parents to go into town with every Tuesday and visit all of your favorite spots like normal, conversing with the workers there that you’d become good friends with over the years.

Yelena kept her word and would hang out with you whenever you had free time to distract you from the thought of Natasha being overseas. Melina and Alexei were great as well and did whatever they could to help.

With all of that combined, everything turned out to be okay just like Natasha had said.

And the young knight made good of her promise to you because three weeks later, your father had knocked on your bedroom door, pulling your attention away from the book in your hands to inform you that Natasha’s ship had just returned.

You jumped out of bed so fast, not even bothering to mark your page as you rushed out of the castle and down to the docks. You probably looked like a madman with the way you were running, a huge smile plastered on your face.

But you didn’t care because you got to the docks right on time to see Natasha walking off the ship. When her eyes locked on you she grinned widely and dropped her bags to meet you halfway as you practically leaped into her arms.

~~~~~~~~

(Time jump a few years later/present day)

You turned off the faucet and shook your hands to rid them of dripping water before drying them completely with the hand towel hung on the wall. A gentle smile sat on your lips, one that hasn’t left your face since the night began.

It was the day that you could only dream of as a little kid.

Literally.

You opened the bathroom door and started to walk out, wanting to get back to the after-party before you missed out on too much of this important night when you felt a gentle grip on your wrist.

Whoever grabbed you had pulled you back into them so your back was against their front, but you didn’t panic too much because you immediately recognized the familiar cologne of your wife whom you just tied the knot with merely a couple hours ago.

She wrapped her arms arms around your torso and pressed a feather light kiss to your neck. “There you are, my love. I lost you there for a moment, I missed you.”

You giggled as her breath tickled your neck. “I was only gone for a few minutes, Nat.”

“A few minutes too long. But now that I found you, I can have a moment with you alone before we go back to everyone.”

You hummed and relaxed back into her, letting out a content sigh as you admired the shining ring that Natasha had slid onto your finger after vowing to you that she would spend the rest of her life by your side.

That this was forever like it was always meant to be.

“I can’t believe we’re actually married.” you whispered out.

Natasha smiled against you. “I know, it feels so surreal. Six year old me would be over the moon right now.”

You both laughed at that. It probably was true.

“You know our moms always called us soulmates.” Natasha said as she reached to take your left hand into hers, staring at the ring and smiling to herself at the memories coming back to her.

“Yeah,” you giggled, “They were right though, weren’t they?”

The redhead sighed happily, “They were.”

You two basked in each other’s presence in silence for a moment as Natasha pressed small kisses to any part of your skin she could reach. You giggled whenever her lips touched a ticklish spot.

“We should probably go back out there now. Before people start thinking we abandoned our own wedding.” you joked.

Natasha chuckled, though continuing her ministrations, “We can spare a few more minutes, right?”

You playfully rolled your eyes, “No, we cannot. Because you’re going to get carried away and then we’re going to actually abandon our own wedding.”

The redhead groaned when you began pulling away from her, but you made it up to her by pressing a kiss to her lips which seemed to satisfy her for now before taking her hand and leading her back to the after-party.

“There you guys are!” Yelena said once she saw the two of you, “We’ve been looking for you. It’s time for your guy’s first dance.”

She dragged you both over to your parents where they were waiting.

You couldn’t help the smile that seemed to take over your face.

Everything was perfect as can be, and now you get to enjoy it all with your soulmate.

~ end ~

#natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha marvel #natasha romanoff x fem!reader #natasha romanov #natasha x y/n #natasha x reader #natasha fanfic #natasha romanoff fanfic #natasha romanoff mcu #natasha alianovna romanova #natasha romanoff x female #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff fluff

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ceilidho · 6 months

Note

‘John price with a single mother this’ ‘Simon Riley with a single mother that’

Yeah yeah keep yapping. Now ME? I think we’re seriously undervaluing the sheer perfection that is Johnny fucking MacTavish with a single mother. He’s insufferable. If there’s an opportunity to worm his way into your life permanently, he’s taking it. My brains fixated on newly moved in neighbour reader and Johnny just comes back from being deployed and there’s this pretty woman next door and woah! bonus points! She has a baby!

He’s bouncing off the walls. He’s sick. Almost first thing he does after seeing you come in and out the flats alone a few times is ask if your lad is around. Has to try so hard to pretend to be sympathetic when you say he did a runner when he found you you were pregnant.

He’s actually spectacular with babies. Makes a point of it whenever he sees you with the kid too; always makes her chuckle, goes out of his way to prove that he’s great with kids. Works his way into it, builds a rapport so when you’re called into work for an emergency you just can’t miss the first person you go to for babysitting is Johnny. When you get back, he’s ‘asleep’ on the couch with the baby on his chest and you just don’t have it in you to wake him so you just sit on the other end of the couch and wait. When he does ‘wake up’ it’s a bit late to be kicking him out so you just offer to let him stay night (this becomes a reoccurring theme).

Starts referring to the you and baby as ‘the bairn’ and ‘his lass’ long before he even asks you out. Asked out for drinks? No, sorry. He’s got to go home to his lass and the bairn. Is he busy this weekend? Yeah he’s taking his lass and the bairn to the amusements. Frequently confuses work colleagues and friends alike because when did Johnny have time to A. Get a girl and B. Shag her enough to knock her up???? Will NOT correct anyone who calls him your husband or the baby’s dad, and will actually get upset if you do.

The moment you agree to go out with him he’s micromoving you into his flat (he’s already looking for houses). Has pictures of you and the baby up on his wall in less than an hour of you being his girlfriend. The ‘spare’ crib is already assembled. He’s already picked a ring. He’s insane. He’s in love. He’s known you for like three months. He’s already got the next like two pregnancies planned out (he wants a big family. No he hasn’t asked you yet). Actually kind of deludes himself into forgetting the baby isn’t his biological child. Wdym it’s not his kid it looks exactly like him??? I think he would actually get a little violent if the baby’s father randomly popped up demanding visitation out of the blue. Said baby’s father is not heard from again.

Anyways I’m insane and in love with Johnny MacTavish and his silly deranged ways send tweet

i want you to know that i woke up to get some water in the middle of the night and happened to check my phone and see this and i had to physically hold myself back from answering it at like. 3am.

first of all, i love you. second of all? i love this. i have been repeating "his lass and the bairn" in my head for like five hours now. johnny deluding himself into thinking the baby is actually his? that little gasp you heard was the last little bit of air in my lungs escaping before i expired and died.

there's no way he wouldn't end up saying something batshit crazy like "look at his wee little nose - just like his daddy's huh?" and you'd just be frozen staring at the two of them. maybe your baby's nose does look a little like johnny's but - that doesn't mean - is he just joking or -?

#john soap mactavish #soap mactavish #soap x you #soap x reader #soap/reader #the way im actually tagging this so i don't lose it

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zombholic · 6 months

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MILF ABBY WITH READER WHO HATES KIDS HC — abby anderson

description — milf!abby, reader who isnt that great with kids, age gap, reader is around mid twenties and abby is late thirties going on forty, smut, mdi !!,

authors note — literally all my creds and inspo goes to @elliespassagerprincess i literally love their milf abby series pls go read it !!

— You and your friends know that you do not have a single motherly instinct in your bones, you and kids do not mix well together.

— This one time you were just strolling while shopping and a toddler came up to say hi to you and you just stared at it wondering what to do.

— If there’s a child screaming at the top of their little lungs you literally give it a death glare.

— You also call children “it” and make everyone laugh every time you talk about a kid.

— But if it wasn’t for Abby’s six-year-old daughter Melanie who came up to you one day at a your local grocery store crying like snot bubbling at her nose and she looked sticky trying to hold your hand you wouldn’t have met your future milf wife.

“Oh, uh hi— why are you crying?” You let the little child grab your pointer finger as you tried to hard to fight your inner demons from the stickiness of her little hand.

“I— I can’t find my mommy.” She used her other hand to wipe the snot off her face, you could feel every nerve in your body cringe. You felt bad for the thing but jesus why are kids so fucking sticky.

You and the kid sat on one of the benches inside the store, you bought her some candy to make it stop crying and it worked. You did inform an employee that there was a lost kid, they spoke on the intercom after telling you that if the parent isn’t here in a certain amount of time they would call law enforcement.

“So, what’s your name?” You pinched your eyebrows together looking at the small being next to you devouring the ring pop like her life depended on it.

“Melanie but all my friends call me Melly.” She gave you a toothy smile well … she was missing majority of her teeth so half toothy smile?

“That’s … nice? You have friends?” She shook her head, her two little braids looked like she got into a street fight.

“Yeah, a lot like a lot of friends, what’s your na—“ She was cut off by a woman’s voice calling out for her.

“Melanie!” Both of your eyes shot up at the… holy fucking fuck she was breath taking.

— You found out that her name is Abby and she has a little escape artist for a child, she hugged you tightly with those giant arms thanking you for keeping her baby safe.

— Abby was truly taken back by how beautiful you are, she was quick to tell you she’ll repay you and managed to get your number while doing so.

— You guys ended up bonding really fast, even though you two were almost complete opposites she was so fascinated by you.

— She invited you over to dinner at her house and fuck was she loaded, not like you were in it for the money but damn must be nice.

— She genuinely found it so amusing how you would interact with Melanie, treating her like a little adult. You weren’t the type to use baby words towards kids you just spoke to them.

— Melanie really resembled Abby to the T, she had her mom’s blue eyes, freckles, the cutest nose but she had blonder hair, you just assumed it was from the dad.

— After months of basically hanging out with them you guys felt so inseparable, you still would give concerning expressions whenever Melanie would do something weird.

— Abby was falling in love you, whenever all three of you would watch a movie that Melanie always picked out and yes you did argue with a six year old about picking movies she would just have the urge to grab your face and kiss you.

— For halloween you bought Melanie an inflatable dinosaur costume with a pink tutu, you literally were crying from how silly she looked holding Abby’s hand.

— Abby was so reluctant to make the first move, scared that she was too old for you but little did she know how much it turned you on that she was older.

— You decided to ask Abby out on a date, you called her up while you were at home, heart beating out of your chest when she said yes.

— The date was at the arcade, cheesy but Abby always won you prizes every time you guys went with Melly. She beat at you literally every single game and being competitive you just glared at her.

— Melanie was at a sleepover at her friend’s home so you and Abby had the place to yourselves, after the date you guys were chilling in her kitchen Abby finally had the courage to kiss you.

“Can I please kiss you?” She looked at you with those pleading eyes, a slight whine to her words.

NSFW mdi NSFW mdi NSFW

— She pinned your back against the counter, her hand cupping the side of your face, the kiss felt so warm but soon became greedy.

— She carried you to her room, your legs wrapped around her waist, arms around her neck as you drove her fucking crazy kissing on her neck like that.

— Abby has a Daddy kink, she had her strap settled deep in your drooling cunt, legs on her shoulder, thrusting so fucking deliciously making you claw at her arms.

“Mmmgh— oh fuck Abby..” Your eyes were rolled to the back of your head, knuckles white from the grip you had on her arms.

“Daddy, call me fucking Abby again and I wont let you cum.” She slapped your face, grabbing it with her hands squeezing your cheeks together.

God this wasn’t the sweet, motherly Abby you knew but some sex god who would fuck you so stupid it left you an incoherent mess.

— She had crazy stamina, had you in every position, face down with your ass up, riding her cock, your back pressed against her front as she spread your legs open drilling your bruised and aching pussy.

— She was so mean, she mocked your moans, bit your skin, slapped your tearful face every time you stopped looking at her. You couldn’t get enough of this side of her.

— She over stimulated you so much you were sobbing, trembling every time she would touch you, your legs shook violently.

Abby had her arms wrapped securely around your thighs, spreading them open so wide. Her tongue lapping you up, sucking on your puffing clit, sliding her tongue inside your sore cunt.

“Daddy please! Too much, s’too much, too much” You squealed, crying out trying to push her head off of you.

— After long hours of her using you, she was so quick to turn her motherly instincts back on. Kissing your face so sweetly, her eyes filled with worry that she pushed you over the edge.

— You reassured her that it was the best fucking sex you’ve ever had. She started a bath for you, sitting right behind you as she massaged your aching body, running her fingers over the love bites she left scattered on your body.

— She held you so tightly as you both had fallen asleep on her amazing bed.

#lesbian #lgbtq #wlw #abby anderson #the last of us #the last of us ii #tlou #tlou2 #abby anderson x reader #abby anderson fic #abby anderson imagine #abby anderson tlou2 #abby x reader smut #abby anderson headcanons #abby anderson x female reader #milf!abby #abby anderson smut

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tqmies · 7 months

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ZB1 + Jealous Sex

ZB1 after one of you is jealous!

note: legal members only (not including gunwook or yujin!) & as always, minors dni!

JIWOONG's eyebrows just furrow because, really? Did you seriously think any of these run-of-the-mill men at this party could make him feel insecure? They don't but they do manage to piss him off. Why were you so close to them? You were just being friendly? You're a liar.

You babble incoherently as he held the vibrator to your abused cunt, having climaxed more times than you could count before having it ripped away by his hands. All he did was crudely laughs at your expense. "What's wrong baby? Earlier you had no problems acting like a slut. I'm just treating you like one."

You knew ZHANG HAO was cute, everyone knew it. Doesn't mean you appreciate everyone flirting with him though.. And his seemingly oblivious act to it all has you seeing red. God, you had to teach him a lesson.

"Babe, s-slow down." He lets out, cock already spent, your eagerness to get him to cum again has him tearing up. His face red as he bites his bottom lip, letting out low whimpers. You continue bouncing on him though, fingers digging into his shoulders as you use them as an anchor. You scoff, trying not to let any moans slip out. "Think any of those girls out there could have you like this baby?"

HANBIN knows that it's not your fault, but it doesn't stop him from getting a little jealous! His friends had crashed your beach date, catching your body in its full glory in the cute bikini you donned. He swears one of them even popped a boner from it!

"You're mine," He growled, your leg thrown over his shoulder. He hadn't even managed to slip your bikini off, only pushing it to the side enough to enter his fat tip into you. Could you blame him? You just looked so good in it! "Only I get to touch you like this, right?"

MATTHEW had been begging you to join him at the gym for months and you finally gave in. Things were fine until you managed to catch a group of girls giggling at your boyfriend in a compression shirt. Leading to an argument that he found himself determined to make up for.

His tongue licked the stripe up your clit, placing light kisses on your thighs to tease you afterwards, before tongue fucking you. "Don't act silly my love, you know you're the only one I want. Those girl's can look all they want, but you're the one that get's me this way."

TAERAE felt the familiar green monster rear its ugly head into his life the minute he spotted you being asked out at the coffee shop he was here to meet you at. You immediately declined the other, but he still couldn't help but feel a little insecure. It was up to you to show him he had no reason to worry.

"Hmm," You mumble, jerking him off as you prepare to deepthroat. He whines, holding your hair into a makeshift ponytail as you press kisses to the flushed tip. "Prettiest cock in the world attached to my pretty boy. No where else I'd rather be then here taking your load down my throat." He can't even manage to stutter a response before you're gagging on his shaft.

You can't blame anyone who hits on RICKY, people flock to him like bee's to honey. But two can play at that game, and you played it quite well, but Ricky doesn't like sharing.

"Gonna fill you with so much cum that it leaks out," He has you folded into a mating press, your walls sucking him in as you jolt from how rough he was fucking you. He was determined to drill into you until your pussy was molded for only him. "Lets see you talk to the guys with it dripping down your legs."

He doesn't get jealous, or at least that's what GYUVIN tells himself. He likes that you get along with his friends! No he doesn't mind one of his friends offering you a jacket. Or saving you a seat by them! It's all perfectly fine.

"Please, please don't leave me. I'd cry every day and- haah - I promise, none of them can treat you like I can." He begs, too busy caught up in his own ministrations that he can't even notice you're fucked too dumb to properly respond. Your back arched as his balls hit your ass with every stroke as you try to keep yourself propped up. "I'm promise I'm good enough, I'll be the best boyfriend- shit - you could ever ask for."

#zb1 smut #zb1 #zb1 imagines #zerobaseone #zerobaseone imagines #zerobaseone x reader #zerobaseone smut #zb1 x reader #zb1 x yn #ricky smut #taerae smut #matthew smut #jiwoong smut #hanbin smut #gyuvin smut #zhang hao smut

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littlexdeaths · 22 days

Text

precious - e.m.

y2k eddie munson x girly reader

18+ ONLY MDNI

warnings: oral (fem receiving), fingering, spitting, eddie is a menace… but a cute one.

opposites attract masterlist

word count: 1k

a/n: another repost from my opposites attract series. i missed our feral, goblin boyfriend. so i hope you all enjoy xx.

He’s been in between your thighs for the better part of an hour, Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers now long forgotten in the background.

You had gotten Eddie the box set earlier that day as a surprise gift. So of course, your boyfriend wanted to spend the whole day having a movie marathon. And you were more than happy to oblige.

But the only problem was you.

You in your short pleated skirt and pink top that seemed to leave very little to the imagination. You were driving him absolutely crazy, despite not meaning to.

The brunette somehow managed to make it through the first film without caving. But each time you shifted positions, your cotton candy perfume would engulf his senses completely. Reminding him how sweet you were, and just how bad he’d missed tasting you.

So could you blame him for being too distracted to appreciate the gift?

After popping the second film in the dvd player, you joined him back on the sofa. The darkness of the room concealing the boner he’s been struggling with for the past three hours.

So when his hand started drifting up your bare thigh, you didn’t think anything of it. That is until his fingers began tracing the outline of your panties, snapping the elastic against your skin.

His head dips, lips grazing against the shell of your ear.

“We wants it, we needs it…”

Eddie’s voice had dropped an octave, gravely as he did his best impression of the creepy, crawly creature from the film.

You lightly smack his shoulder as he starts laughing, the sound filling the small room. But once he sees the look on your face he settles, nuzzling his face into the skin of your neck.

“Alright, alright I’m sorry, sweetheart. Let me try that again,” he hums as his lips trail further down to your collarbone, nipping lightly at your skin.

A small gasp leaves you as he begins sucking, tingles shooting straight to your core.

“Wanna taste you, doll… can I?” He asks, his voice just as deep as before— but the silliness of the previous moment is gone.

Only desperation laces his tone as his fingers slip underneath your panties. The male groans at the wetness he finds, the sound leaving you a little breathless.

“Please,” you whine, lips jutting out in a small pout.

That’s the only answer he needs before he’s detaching himself from you. Grinning mischievously as he slides off the sofa, working himself between your thighs. Your panties are removed almost haphazardly, making you giggle at his eagerness.

Eddie quickly tosses your legs over his shoulders, diving in immediately. Despite how eager he seemed, he slowly dragged his tongue through your soaked folds. Your boyfriend wanted to take his time, to savor each and every drop you were giving him.

Flash forward to almost an hour later, your fingers are tangled in his dark curls as he continues to lap at your overly sensitive cunt. Eddie was being a tease, getting you closer and closer to the edge before slowing down again.

It was his turn to drive you absolutely crazy. While simultaneously turning you into a needy mess under his skillful tongue. He suddenly pulls back for a moment, the glow from the tv highlighting the juices smeared across his chin.

The male gathers some of it on his fingers, eagerly sucking the digits into his mouth with a deep growl.

“Mmm, my precious.”

Before you have time to scold him he’s back between your thighs, a crazed cackle leaves him as he sucks harshly on your clit. Eddie eagerly slips those same fingers that were just in his mouth, back inside you. He curls them up to brush against your sweet spot, causing you to cry out as he increases his pace.

Any semblance of taking things slow is now thrown out the window, as he licks and sucks at you like a starved animal. Your fingers find their way back into his hair, nails digging into his scalp.

“That’s it, such a good. fucking. girl.” He growls each word pointedly, thrusting his fingers in tandem with his vulgarity.

Your walls clench harder around the digits due to his praise, greedily grinding your hips down against them. A whimper escapes you as he leans back, spitting onto your already soaked pussy. But he doesn’t give you much time to process as his tongue begins to mix his salvia with your slick.

He slides a third finger into your tight heat, the sounds of your arousal now over powering the film still playing on the television. Your body is buzzing as your thighs begin to tremble around his head.

“Squeezing me so tight, baby, fuck. You gonna cum for me?” His voice is muffled as he puts more pressure on your swollen clit.

And in that moment, you can’t find the words to answer him— only a high pitched moan leaves your lips.

Eddie chuckles against you, the vibrations bring you that much closer to the edge. Your hips begin to buck up wildly, desperate for that promise of release.

But your boyfriend is quick to force them back down with his free hand. Preventing any further squirming as he drills his fingers into your needy cunt, taking everything he’s giving you in stride.

“Gimme all your cum, sweetheart,” he groans deeply, finding yourself unable to hold back anymore.

After being edged for the better part of an hour, your body convulses as you finally fall over that precipice. Crying out his name repeatedly as he continues to work you through the most intense orgasm he’s ever given you.

Your body suddenly slumps against the sofa, completely spent. A soft whine leaves your lips as you tug on his disheveled curls to lift his head. His dark eyes lock with your half lidded ones, that mischievous smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

Eddie gladly crawls his way up your body to press a sloppy kiss to your lips. You can taste yourself on his tongue, your juices now smeared across your chin.

You can feel the sticky, warm denim of his jeans pressing against your thigh. The sudden realization has you giggling into his mouth.

“Mmm,” he hums, “Precious is pleased?”

#the freak writes 🫧#my series: opposites attract 🫧#eddie munson blurb #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x fem!reader smut #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #y2k!eddie munson x girly reader #y2k!eddie munson #early 2000s!eddie munson #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x f!reader

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martyrlamb · 7 months

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✶ when the clock strikes / leon kennedy

pairing: leon kennedy x gn!reader

summary: you’re starting to think a certain agent might be faking his injuries to see you.

tags: sfw, pure fluff, a bit of angst as a treat, love at first sight basically, silly workplace love story, nurse!reader, 1 year post re4r!leon, no use of y/n, extremely mildly passively suggestive, leon takes his shirt off twice (woohoo!), kissing, swearing, leon is awkward as hell, you are too though so it’s okay, description of bruises, cuts and a muscle knot (not detailed), medical talk, slight mention of gore and blood, reader has a backstory, reader has a mother.

note: i blinked and suddenly there were 8k words in my doc idek how that happened. im actually so nervous to post because this is my first one shot ever!! my cherry has been popped… but also apologies if things are kind of all over the place bc im still trying to get the swing of it all. trying to write in the present tense was like being beat over the head repeatedly so im sure theres many grammatical mistakes in that department

word count: 8.5k (got possessed sorry)

Everyone thought you were crazy when you accepted the offer.

It is crazy—but you aren’t stupid. You knew what you were getting into a long time ago as a nurse; people get hurt, and then you save them. Clockwork.

Years ago, you started studying to be a nurse in some middle of nowhere midwestern school. You remembered the rolling hills and the ungodly heavy blankets of snow that fell during the winter months, the fallen leaves that the snow covered. It was all so peaceful for a while… until the outbreak.

You never saw it coming, no one did, really. At least, you hope no one predicted the atrocities that were about to be witnessed by thousands of innocents without warning.

Gnashing teeth and hands with dried blood that streaked down arms like veins plagued the memory of that point in your life. It was surreal to believe that you got up that morning and made your breakfast like any other day, you slid your shoes on and grabbed your keys, and then your foot hit the front porch and the trajectory of your life changed permanently.

The virus started as a woman with red-ringed eyes and pallid skin that reflected off of the blinding overhead lights—she looked visibly ill. That’s all that mattered at the time. You were actually the one who situated her and her husband in their room, he smiled at you and thanked you for your time and you scribbled down notes before hanging the clipboard and leaving the room for the doctor. The screeching horror music plays when you get to this part of the memory.

A type of calm before the storm. You hold your breath every time.

A few hours later people started screaming, and someone—something ran out of that room and wrenched its grip on the first person it saw. Blue scrubs dyed a nasty crimson, like crushed raspberries on cloth. The next part is a blur of running, watching your coworkers die, and using your medical expertise to help anyone who needed it. People were hurt. You saved them.

Like you said, clockwork. You try not to think about it too hard.

By the time help came, you had cramped a large handful of survivors—albeit, injured survivors—into a small house that was a mile or two from the hospital. Your quick thinking protected many people that day, and your skills were recognized.

A week prior, you were a simple nursing student who was lucky enough to be placed in a hospital, and by the next Sunday, you were being offered a position as a medic with the Anti-Umbrella Pursuit and Investigation Team. You finished your schooling, you got your specialized training, and now you’re on your way to your first assignment out of the country.

So, granted, maybe you are a little crazy for accepting such a prestigious and dangerous position after your humble beginnings. Your mother never ceases to remind you of this, with what little information you were allowed to tell her.

Iceland? she said, pulling her lips into a line. Are you crazy?

You begin to think that you are now that you stand in front of the base, arms tucked around yourself and teeth chattering as a sergeant points you around like one of his troops. Between the hustle and bustle of agents hurrying around and the amount of civilians sitting beneath the large, brown medical tent, you understand why they needed all the help they could get.

Things in Iceland were bad apparently; Umbrella thought the remote location would protect what little was left of them, and their research, from being exposed. Unfortunately for them, (and fortunately for everyone else) the AUPIT caught wind of what was happening and vowed to put a stop to it. You, freshly out of training, were sent to help with the sudden influx of displaced non-combatants and wounded agents.

Within the hour of the helicopter landing, you settle in and pull your cold weather scrubs on.

There aren’t many other nurses—only two—and neither of them seem to be very fond of you. The head nurse is older and straight-laced, following procedure, not mingling with you unless she has to. You don’t think you’re ever going to be put on a shift with the other nurse, but they spare you a few ireful glances. It’s like they could smell the fresh blood, and the scent made them turn their noses.

Nonetheless, you weren’t there to socialize, so you rolled up your sleeves and did your job, trying to ignore the passive aggressive looks being thrown at you from left and right. This kind of mutual ignorance worked for about three days, until you were placed on the night shift… every single night.

Before you came along, it was determined that the night shift could be manned by one person, as injured civilians were sent to the safehouses by nightfall and nearly all of the agents were either out on work or taking a much needed rest. There was no reason for both nurses to be awake when one could conserve their energy and rest while the other worked. So, most nights you spent alone, sitting by the fire in the back of the tent as you waited for the sun to come up.

One of those nights crept up on you again. You bounce your foot against the ground until your ankle aches, sitting in a lawn chair next to the fire with a wool blanket draped over your shoulders. Nothing chirps in the distance like the environment you’re used to, the only noises that float through the air are the wind rustling bare-armed bushes and your own breathing. There was a rip in the tent whistling, too, but you’d be damned if you let the incessant noise drive you insane. You were scared of the eerie silence for the first few days, but that quickly became replaced by the complete boredom that followed it.

You blow a raspberry as you spin a pen in your ungloved hand, fingers numb and stretched stiff with cold. I’ve ought to ask someone for a book, you thought to yourself, or a new job. You immediately push the second contemplation out of your head like it was something dirty and sat up a little straighter; your annoyance made sense, but this is what you wanted to do with your life. You want to help people in need.

Not that there were many people around.

In the distance, like divine intervention, you hear the crackle of wheels against snow, and a black mini-van rolls to a stop in front of the tent. A scuffle inside ensues for a moment, then the doors open and a man comes hobbling into the shelter with his arm over another man’s shoulder.

You nearly fall out of your seat with how fast you stand up and stride over to the men, assisting the injured one onto a cot.

“What happened?” you ask, pushing a cart of equipment to his bedside.

The uninjured one remarks from beside you, “Some snow gave way and he went down this hill with some pretty nasty bushes at the bottom.” His voice is quick and clicky. He looks young.

Clearly, they’re two agents, judging by the leather holsters strapped around their waists and shoulders. You purse your lips and place a lantern on the cart, gently inspecting the injured agent. There’s thorns lodged along the entirety of his left side, looking a bit like a child’s crude attempt at art with toothpicks and styrofoam.

He grunts when you gently lift his arm to check underneath, and you mutter an apology before you turn to the other agent. “I can take this from here.”

The agent nods and spins on his heel, disappearing into the darkness once he stepped out into the open air.

You turn your attention towards the man in front of you and pull on a pair of gloves, the latex makes a sharp snapping noise when you let go. His intense gaze follows your movements with great intrigue—or suspicion… you couldn’t really tell. You pick up a pair of tweezers and set them on the cart. You also finally got a good look at the wounded agent.

Blue eyes that strike down what little defenses you have and brows that spend their time permanently creased, almost erasing the space between them while he inspects you. His ability to make you feel thoroughly grilled with a simple fixated stare would have made you squirm years prior, but now you merely stare back with your eyebrows lifted. The blonde—possibly light brown haired, the darkness didn’t give much way in the form of colour—man averts his eyes first, as if he is caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

You’d be lying if you said he wasn’t attractive, but that’s not your focus right now.

“How are you feeling?” you ask, flicking on a flashlight to check his pupils. Healthy, good. He squints at you through the beam.

“Like I fell into a thorn bush.”

Looks like someone feels funny. You deadpan at him, unamused with the sarcasm while you try to help. Your expression beckons a better answer and he backpedals.

The man’s head bobs subtly, like a scale in his mind is weighing his thoughts on either side, and then he says, “I’m just fine.”

“Are you dizzy? Nauseous?”

“Fine.”

“Okay,” you reply, blowing out a not-so-inconspicuous huff of annoyed air that swirls above you in the cold. The agent raises his brow at your reaction but doesn’t seem too keen on speaking on it. “I’ll try to be as gentle as I can, but it’s going to be a lot of poking and prodding.”

He lets out another grunt that could have possibly been an Mhm… but you aren’t sure. You hold the tweezers between your fingers and begin to pluck them out, placing them on the metal pan on your cart. Clink, clink, clink. They fall from the tweezers with tiny noises.

To your surprise, he doesn’t writhe or make much noise, only occasional grunts and sighs and Shit’s under his breath when you pull at particularly deep thorns lodged in his arm.

Even for an agent, his arms are an impressive size, which means a lot more surface area to extract from. Not that you really mind, as you would have helped him either way, but surely you would feel differently if you were in his shoes.

However, the silence is… awkward; sitting there with your face inches from his huge arms—he could definitely feel your breath fan across the surface with how his skin dances with warmth and goosebumps and you do not want the attractive agent to focus on that. So, you break it with a question.

“You weren’t wearing a jacket?” A valid query, all things considered.

He blinks at you like it was obvious. “It came off.”

“Oh,” is all you say until you extract the last thorn from his arm and begin to slide the leather shoulder holster off of him. “I just need to take this off.”

He frowns slightly, and you realize his brows had been furrowed this whole time because that was all his face seemed to know how to do. When his expression changes, you stop.

“What are you doing?” he asks.

“Taking it off so I can look under your sleeve.”

“Why?”

“You could’ve pulled something and I need to bandage you,” you pause. “Is that okay?”

Maybe you wrongly assumed that he had done this a million times. Don’t get you wrong, you know how resilient agents had to be and how good they were at their jobs, so it isn’t like you thought he got hurt often… But with a short glance into his eyes, you could tell he’s a hardened delegate with years of experience under his belt. Wasn’t he bound to need help occasionally?

The man gives you a slight nod and shrugs off the holster; it falls to the bed with a soft thud from the weight of the knife tucked into the leather.

His muscles tense under your fingers when you roll the black sleeve over his shoulder. The feathered, pale edge of a bullet scar peeks out from beneath the dark clothing and it makes you wonder how he managed to get it. A mission? Probably. It looks old. You’ve seen scars of all kinds at that point, and each of them held a story that ended in pierced flesh.

They remind you that they will never not be where they came from—your own scars will never not be where they came from. You shake the thought out like a stubborn rock in your shoe.

“Lucky you, it doesn’t look like you pulled anything in your shoulder,” you comment under your breath.

“If this is luck, I’d like to see what happens when I get unlucky.” For the first time, there’s humor in his tone—so faint you nearly miss it, but it makes you chuckle. When he isn’t huffing out responses, his voice almost sounds kind.

You rotate his shoulder slowly and inspect the length of his side, finding fewer thorns than the amount anchored in his arm. Still, your lips press into a line, pitying the fact that his bare skin will be exposed to the frigid, below-freezing air so you could remove them.

“Well, you should’ve knocked on wood,” you reply, “I’ll need you to take your shirt off so I can get the rest of the thorns out and check your ribs.”

Silently, the man hikes his shirt up and over his ribs for you, snaking his arm out of his sleeve and then laying on his side.

As he comes down, stretching, he groans. You see his muscles tense under his skin when he inhales, the dips and divots of his torso flex involuntarily when the squall of air nips at his newly exposed skin. The surface holds blossoms of red and deep purple that litter themselves across his ribs like splotches of messy watercolor dripped onto paper. Scarlet scratches bleed pebbles that drip onto the fabric of the cot.

You suck in through your teeth as you inspect the area. Even without the damage from the thorns, it doesn’t look good.

“Not good?” the agent questions as if he could read your mind. From over his shoulder, he turna his head to look at you.

“Not good. You bruised your ribs, I’d be surprised if one of them wasn’t broken.”

“I didn’t hear a crack.”

“It should be monitored for a day or two, at the very least.”

“I have to get back to work.”

“Look, I understand—“

“I’ll be fine.”

You sigh softly and remove one of your gloves to rub your face in exasperation. Unfortunately, this wasn’t your first rodeo with stubborn patients, so you slide on another glove and begin to pluck at the thorns in his torso. “You won’t be doing much work if you permanently damage them.”

He twists his head away from you again and grunts softly, muttering a short, “Okay.”

How articulate. You guess he doesn’t get paid to talk to people.

“Okay? As in…?”

“As in, fine,” he replies, then pauses for a moment as if to prove a point. “But I’m sure you have better things to do.”

You laugh at this, then stifle it into your elbow so he didn’t think you were laughing at him. He still rolls over a little to look at you, confusion laces his eyes that dart around as they go from your face to the rows of empty cots behind you. Busy? You begin to laugh again.

He can’t be serious, you think as you fan your face. You let your laughter dissipate like it was being dissolved into water. “Sorry… no, you’re right,” you snort, “I was drowning in work before you arrived, agent.”

“I’m sure,” he chirps back, the ghost of a smile haunts his lips.

“I think I can squeeze you in, though. Might have to clear some of my schedule, but… I’ll make it work.”

The pleased look that graces your face is involuntary. You find it endearing how worried he is about becoming too much extra work for you and the other nurses, despite the fact that there isn’t any reason to gather that he would and—believe it or not—it’s your job.

The agent lets out an amused breath through his nose. “Should I be flattered?”

“Oh, of course.”

You place the last of the thorns onto the metal pan and tend to his wounds with gauze and bandages and nimble fingers that have done this hundreds of times before. Sometime along the way his body relaxed—just a little—and you think he fell asleep until he sits up like a puppet that had his strings yanked and puts his shirt on properly.

The sudden movement makes you blink, and he stares at you for a long pause filled with dead air and an expectant look in his eyes. That damn rip in the tent whistles.

Finally, his eyes flicker down to your badge, then back to your face. “I’ve never seen you before.”

“I started here not too long ago,” you inform him honestly, a little embarrassed to admit your newbie title to a seasoned employee of the organization.

He doesn’t say anything else, so you take the reins.

“Well, I think we’re set,” you say, rolling the latex gloves off of your hands. “Let me know if you need anything, Agent…”

You never asked him his name?

“Leon Kennedy,” the agent, now with the name Leon Kennedy pinned to his face, finishes for you.

His name twirls around your head and makes you dizzy to think about. I should have known, you think to yourself once he bids you farewell to report to his superiors.

From what little time you spent at the base prior to meeting Leon, you had heard whispers during dinner drift from mouth to ear of the elusive agent. That he was a man of few words (immense understatement, you consider it more socially awkward, but true); that he had half of the base swooning every time he walked by (you don’t want to comment on this); and that he was immensely attractive (that is also true). You have to admit… you see why he had such an air of intrigue around him. To be so quiet after such successes he’s accomplished—people were on the edge of their seats trying to figure him out.

You also had to admit that you weren’t immune to it either.

During your meals and breaks you found yourself playing Where’s Waldo? with Leon, attempting to catch glimpses of him in his natural state to confirm or deny these claims. Which was impressively difficult for absolutely no reason other than that he did it for his own benefit… the motive for this was lost, and still is, on you.

The few times you did spot him, he had the same clenched jaw and furrowed eyebrows. He never stayed in the same place for very long and frequently you only spotted him—or rather, his broad shoulders and white-knuckled fists as they turned corners and disappeared to do whatever he did all day. Important agent things.

Regarding your coworkers… it hadn’t improved much, either. The head nurse, who you later learned was named Winona, loosened up on you a bit—which was practically nothing when both she and the other nurse had been so cold to begin with. However, your determination to help those around you seemed to impress her… most days.

(Peeks of Leon’s ashy blonde hair stolen from cracks in the tent. His fur-lined coat hangs off of his sizable frame, enveloping his arms in the thick fabric—it makes them look even bigger. Not that you care, per say, but—

“You aren’t getting paid to stalk agents,” Winona jeers, jolting you back to Earth from your subject of stolen attention. You swear she smiles at you wryly. “Should’ve tried for one of their jobs if you wanted to do that.”

She turns on her heel and goes over to a trio of injured civilians with her cart, the knot of hair tied taut at the base of her neck stares you in the face. You’re left hot faced and embarrassed for the entirety of the next check-up with your patient.)

The endless night shifts never seem to cease rolling in and you’re afraid it’s begun to catch up on you. By the end of breakfast, when you could finally drag your corpse-like body to your quarters and into your bed, your head drooped comically into your bowl of oatmeal and some of the newer agents had a blast laughing at you. Whatever, assholes.

(You were deeply embarrassed.)

So, you opted for allowing a short nap in here and there during your shift—ten minutes at most—whenever your eyelids began to feel itchy and weighted and you couldn’t help but close them. You really couldn’t. Being sat by the fire with a hot drink made you so warm and the sounds of blowing wind lulled you to sleep in the darkness under the moon.

Truly, a terrible work performance from you, but no one was around to see and surely you’d be awoken by even a hint of an emergency.

Tonight, you count sheep with your wool blanket tucked up to your chin and your head lolls against your shoulder like it’s about to fall off its hinges. One, two, three. They mock you as they hop into their pasture and curl up into white, fluffy spheres, falling asleep within the warmth of their home.

From a distance, your ears almost register the sound of footsteps that approach the tent, crushing the crunchy top layer of snow under their feet as they stop in the entrance. It isn’t enough to completely wake you until they clear their throat and say, “Hello?”

Your eyes snap open and you turn your head so fast you think it might go flying across the room. Really smooth of you, considering Leon is the one to get your attention. By the smug look on his face and slight chuckle that wracks his frame, you know he isn’t fooled with your act awake performance.

He stands there, towering and rigid, unlike the night you first met him, with his palm outstretched flat like he’s trying to show the world something.

“Oh, hey, what do you need?” you reply quickly, standing from your chair as you let your blanket fall off of you.

Leon glances at his hand and then at you. “I, uh, got a papercut.”

“A paper cut,” you repeat, just to make sure you heard him right.

“Yeah.”

You stare at him for a moment, mouth agape as his words register as something he was actually saying to you.

“Well, get comfortable, then. I’ll patch you up.”

In reality, you’re terribly confused about a special forces agent needing first aid for a paper cut, but how could you complain? He needs help and you’re there to offer it.

The blonde sits on a cot near the fire—not before picking up your blanket from the ground and placing it back on the chair, though—and you situate yourself on a stool facing him.

You take Leon’s hand in yours gently and inspect the wound. It’s fairly shallow, but placed in the center of the webbed skin between his index finger and thumb. Tough spot. When your digits graze his rough knuckles he inhales sharply and you glance at him due to the sudden motion.

He doesn’t expect a reaction from you because he pauses for a second then asks, “You think I’ll live?”

“I dunno,” you answer, sucking your teeth. “Could be a close call.”

“Yeesh.”

“I know. My condolences.”

“For myself?”

“Uh-huh.” You turn his hand over so his palm faced the sky. “This’ll sting.”

When you disinfect the injury, Leon’s face twitches into itself but he keeps quiet, opting to focus his gaze on your face while you patch him up. You try not to shift under the intensity.

“What made you want to do this?” he queries, his voice cuts through the silence and startles you a bit. Leon looks pleased with himself and you roll your eyes.

“You’ll laugh.”

“Why would I do that?”

“It’s corny.”

Admittedly, it was—the original story as to why you wanted to be a nurse. You’ve had people laugh at it before and you mostly don’t want to repeat history with someone you find rather charming, but something in Leon’s face softens and he shakes his head briefly.

“Try me,” he challenges.

“Oh, fine.” Like there was a fight put up when you relent, smoothing a bandaid over his cut. “You know those things you’d fill out as a kid? Where it’s like, what do you want to be when you grow up?”

Leon nods.

“Every single time, I would write superhero,” you laugh sourly because you got used to other people laughing when you said this, but he listens as if you’re the only sound he’s ever heard. “I’d draw myself with a little cape and all that. Then at a certain age the teachers start telling you, pick a real job, pick something that exists. And, I dunno, I thought: there are real superheroes. They save people every day because they want to.”

“I mean, I always knew I didn’t have all the right assets to be the one rescuing people from burning buildings and punching the bad guys. I wanted to help people when they couldn’t help themselves, you know? I can't carry the weight of the situation—it’s just not in my nature—but I can carry them. That’s why I started doing this, I guess.”

The look he gives you when you finish speaking is indescribable. He gazes deeply into your face like he’s trying to find a new feature he missed the first time. Something akin to pulling apart your mind with his eyes as if it’s clay made for the shaping and a load of a melancholy that’s too heavy for him; like he’s asking you, how do I carry it? Tell me how to carry something like that.

Your hand still lingers in his, over the bandaid you placed on him; you slide yours so the curves of your thumbs interlock and you grip the hilt of his palm. A hidden embrace.

Leon’s eyes dart toward your hands and he makes no effort to remove you from his grasp, his fingers relax against your wrist. He feels your heartbeat. You feel his. When he looks up again, all he sees are your eyes.

You don’t know why you went on that anecdote in the first place, not really. Only that you were finished patching him up and wanted—needed—him to linger for a bit longer.

“What about you?” you ask, voice hushed close to nothing.

“I wanted to help people, too.” He sounds uncharacteristic—sheepish? “That’s it… I can’t follow up with something as articulate as you.”

“It matters just as much even if you can’t express it,” you assure him, your head tilts.

Leon clears his throat and nods, slipping his hand from yours and looking anywhere that isn’t you. You created a shadow in front of his face, back facing the fire, but you can see the subtle dark tinge of his cheeks when he avoids your eyes. He chooses to look at his feet. There he goes, being endearing again, you think.

The harsh edges of his face are lit up with an orange glow, darkness shoots somewhere in between in a soft gradient, and he looks positively ethereal. If you reached out and cupped his face, you know it would be warm to the touch like laundry right out of the dryer. It makes him look all the more delicate and this feels more natural than the pointed looks and pinched expressions he usually wears.

You look back down at his hands. You’re trying to memorize the way they felt against yours (coarse and hot to the touch) and you get the picture of how hopeless you are—even an idiot could see you have a crush on him.

That doesn’t stop you from protecting your pride and you keep it to yourself. You stand up to put the disinfectant supplies and box of bandaids away without a word.

Leon stares at his hand like it’s missing a piece.

You have your head buried too deep into the cabinet to think much about that. Screaming at yourself was an understatement for what you’re doing in your head… a better description would be begging the floor to swallow you entirely with one gulp.

Surely, Leon has someone at home. He’s an attractive, intelligent man with an arguably stable job that pays him oodles more than he would ever need; not to mention how well-built he is, but again, for what seems like the millionth time you push this thought to the back of your mind. You could not focus on that.

“Are you okay?” his voice carries from the cot.

You take a moment’s breather and shut the cabinet door. “I’m good. How are your ribs?”

“They’re good.” Leon pauses, then adds. “Thanks.”

The shake of your head comes faster than your words; muscle memory. “It’s what I’m here for.”

“You do a good job.”

“I’m just a medic.”

“A good one.”

As you utter your gratitude for his comment, you hope he couldn’t feel the heat radiating off of your face from so far away. You weren’t one to get shy from such simple words, but you find your eyes glued to your boots because of his gentle bonniness. Damn you, you curse at him in your head—it held no weight.

The blonde stands from the cot and walks over to you. He bends slightly to catch your eyes in his. “I have to go now, but... yeah. Thank you.”

“Of course, Agent Kennedy.”

“Don’t start using formalities now,” he half-laughs, half-breathes. His face contorts when he stretches back, and his hand came up to massage his right shoulder—you even go to comment on this movement, being a medic and all, but he beats you to it with a smirk. “Stick with Leon.”

And then, in a few strides, he’s gone as fast as he came.

Your entire body deflates when you let out a guttural sigh. How come every time you watched his back, you were left reeling?

Unfortunately for you, that blasted man had ingrained himself into your head, sitting pretty in your thoughts as snug as a bug in a rug while you tried to do your job, or attempted to focus on anything other than your feelings for him. On the contrary, he returned to clearing out Umbrella facilities for the time being, which meant he was out of the base for days, or even weeks, considering he was one of, if not, the best agent they had. This saved you from the embarrassment of being caught trying to catch glances of him from inside the tent or during meals.

This, however, did not stop you from daydreaming when work got slow.

You wondered how someone like Leon behaved domestically, if he was completely different outside of the AUPIT, or if he was still just the sweet, reserved man who needed your aid often. Did he have any pets? What music did he listen to? You guess you’d have to ask him later, but you imagined that the pieces would fall into place and suit him. They’d be so perfectly Leon that when he told you, you would think to yourself, huh, why didn’t I think of that?

The amount of daydreaming you did was not lost on Winona, and occasionally she snapped her fingers in front of your face and grumbled under her breath, “I’ll kill that boy.” With no real threat to her tone.

Please, you can’t help it. He has arms with the muscle definition of a god and he told you-you were a good medic; you were a goner before you even realized it.

On the other hand, your family never let up with their pleas for you to return home, despite the fact that it simply wasn’t possible unless you had a very good reason for it. Which you didn’t, and you didn’t want to—people just didn’t get it through their heads that, yes, your job was difficult, and yes, patients got on your nerves sometimes, but no, you wouldn’t trade it for the world. This meant more to you than anything else you could fathom. You knew the fear these people felt first-hand, and you knew they needed a saving grace; just like you had.

(“Just come home,” your mother coos into the phone, her voice static-y and chopped from the poor signal. You could imagine her face right now, all worried and exhausted like you’re a child balancing on a wet playground. “There’s a hospital not too far from here… I’m sure they’d take you.

You promptly spend the next hour explaining to her that it isn’t that simple, even if you wanted to, and you remind her every few minutes that you aren’t going to leave, either. You’re happy, all things considered; which is why you make the executive decision to leave out all of the bad parts of your work so far.)

As for the efforts against Umbrella, you hear whispers of successes during dinners and fewer agents appeared at the medical tent’s door in need of assistance than when you arrived. So, you think things are going rather well for your organization. Less tired eyes and solemn faces; the fight wasn’t over, but everyone could rest a little easier with every night that passed.

And yet, those damned night shifts. You swear Winona and that other medic were scheming against you for no reason other than pure spite, on the basis of simply because they didn’t feel like doing it. It has to be funny to them by now, seeing you half-asleep at breakfast and looking all mussed at dinner because you woke up ten minutes prior. You let them laugh all they wanted because frankly, you began to enjoy the night shifts. The world went to sleep, and you enjoyed some peace and quiet.

You kick your feet up onto a stool and drape a blanket over your legs, book in hand. The soft sounds of Icelandic pop music crackles out of the radio and floats throughout the tent. You mouth the noises of the songs, unsure of the lyrics, but you’ve heard it so often by now, you could recognize the tune from the first few beats. You scat a few of the instruments, tapping your foot along. You don't notice the figure that stopped in the doorframe.

“Enjoying yourself?” Leon. You shut your book and turn to look at him, embarrassed. “I always feel like I’m coming at a bad time.”

“Never,” you reply with a haste that humbles you further. Worried about his sudden appearance in the medical tent after being gone on agent duties for nearly two weeks, you ask, “Are you okay?”

The corners of his mouth upturn and you barely see a flash of uneven teeth between the slit it creates, cute. This distracts you from how smug his face is. “I think I have a fever.”

“A fever this time?”

“Yep.”

“Make yourself comfortable, Leon.”

A paper cut, then a fever. You begin to think of his inability to soothe his minor maladies as an excuse to visit the tent. Your stomach flutters at the thought, but you have to make sure… just in case he’d fallen ill out there in the cold.

You find the thermometer and placed it in his mouth gingerly. It hangs crooked from the corner and he watches you with a certain keenness that makes you smile. After a few minutes, you check his temperature: 98.7. An amused hum escapes your lips without meaning to.

“Dying?”

“I don’t think you have a fever,” you answer, using the back of your hand to press against his forehead and cheeks. The first cheek is cold, then the left cheek warms under your skin—Leon’s expression falls bashful. “But if I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were looking for reasons to come see me.”

It’s his turn to hum in thought. “Maybe.”

“You could just come talk to me.”

“You’re on the clock,” the blonde reminds you, grunting. In a swift movement, his hand presses into the curve of his neck and he rotates his right shoulder, face straining.

You see an opening. “That I am. What was that?”

“What?”

“Your shoulder.”

“I was stretching.”

“Does it hurt?”

Leon grumbles a response under his breath, unimpressed that you might have found something you could actually treat him for. You raise your brows. “I’ll take that as a yes. Let me see.”

“It’s fine.”

“Agent Kennedy.”

He pretends not to hear you.

“Leon.”

“Fine,” he gripes like a child being forced to get a shot and maneuvers to lay his stomach flat on the cot, his back faces toward the ceiling. He takes off his brown, fur-lined jacket and discards it onto the next cot over. You get a whiff of musk and cinnamon from the breeze it makes.

The shirt that clings to him left nothing to the imagination—a tight, black compression shirt stretches snugly over his muscles. You spread your fingers like fans to warm them up, then begin to run them over his shoulder and along the meat of his back.

You tsk, full of knots. This man needs a masseuse. You make a mental note to refer him to a good one you knew.

With the issue at hand, though, you find an impressive knot in his shoulder, which is likely the cause of his discomfort.

You huff, your work cut out for you. “There’s a big knot in your shoulder, Leon. How are you living like this?”

“I wake up and roll out of bed.”

“I need to get this out.”

Leon turns his head, his cheek presses to the cot. He gives you a look that says nothing short of, are you serious? You smile as sweetly as you can at him, an attempt to coax him. To your surprise, he averts his gaze fast and relents. The blonde agent sits up and shrugs his shirt off. It’s tossed next to his jacket.

Under the fire light and the dim glow of lanterns that hang in a line down the center of the tent, strings attached to the ceiling, you see the way chills prickle over the surface of his skin. Goosebumps, like rolled carpets being kicked open, unfurl down his arms rapidly and he lays down on his stomach once again.

Your face burns in the dark—you’d be surprised if you aren’t glowing like one of those lanterns from the amount of heat it exudes.

You use a dollop of skin cream to keep the area relaxed and pliable as you work out the knot with your fingers. You push it in the right direction until you got it in a better spot, then you knead it firmly. It crackles within his body.

“Fuck…” he groans in relief, nestling his head into the fabric of the cot as he sighs. “They teach you massages in nursing school?”

“That might be just a learned from life thing,” you state in total honesty. You wipe the excess lotion from your hands on a rag.

Curiously, he peers at you from the corner of his eye. “You have someone back home you do that to?”

A laugh falls from your lips, though your face feels even hotter than before (if that is even possible). “No—not at all.”

Leon lets out a pleasant hum and sit up from the cot. Good, he says without saying it.

He snatches his shirt and tugs it over his head; you pretend to make yourself busy so you have somewhere other to look than at him. You hear him sigh with great reprieve as he rolls his shoulder back and forth, it must’ve felt like a freshly oiled hinge.

He comes up behind you, his shoulder skims the back of your neck when he peers down at what you were doing on the counter. Which is a whole lot of nothing; moving cotton swabs from one container to the other, counting how many rolls of gauze you had left for the hundredth time. Mindless hand ministrations to distract you from the heart that pounds in your chest.

“Is this what you do all night?” he questions, mildly amused.

“Sometimes.”

“Must be glad I showed up.”

“Something like that,” you tease, glancing up at him with a coy smile.

You watch his withstraint break a little inside of him. He inhales sharply, losing the words you said somewhere between your eyes and your lips—he couldn’t focus with your faces so close to each other and neither could you. Leon reaches for the hand that rested on the other side of you and drags you in between him and the counter, twirling you to face him. Then he pauses and appears lost, like he doesn’t know which way is left and right.

Maybe he doesn’t know what to do, you think. You don’t really know either, so you go on about what you do know.

“You should probably use kinesiology tape on your shoulder,” you comment, suddenly becoming hyper-aware of all of your limbs. His eyes don’t leave your lips. You’d be a liar if you say yours left his.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

The man’s body heat radiates off of him and it’s magnetic, pulling you closer, away from the bitter cold. Your breath hitches. His hand hovers over the curve of your neck, then it decides to rest on the side of your jaw, thumb pressed against your flushed cheek. You remember the texture of his warm palm, coarse and calloused from years of wear.

You try to memorize every fine line and crease that scuffs your face as he beckons you to close the gap with the slight tilt of his head. I’d make a terrible agent, my resilience is slim to none, you theorize when your body moves before your mind does. His mouth hovers over yours, his breath traces your cupid’s bow. You close the distance enough that your lips graze each other until someone clears their throat from a few feet away.

Winona stands like a judgmental statue, thin brows raise expectantly. You, and Leon, jump away from each other. It rocks the counter with a loud clatter that echoes.

“Agent Kennedy,” she acknowledges him first as a sign of respect. He nods back awkwardly. “You two look like you’re enjoying yourselves.”

Neither of you talk for a moment and you find yourself desperate to create any word that could explain what that was. Leon’s eyes dart around the room.

Finally, something solid comes to your tongue. “I’m sorry.”

And then she laughs in both of your faces. Her hand waves like it’s fanning your words away from getting inhaled. You and Leon glance at each other, brows knit in honest confusion.

“Kids,” she exhales. “Stop distracting my medic, Kennedy.”

Then he speaks, but it sounds more like a nervous cough. “Yes, ma’am.”

Winona shoos him with a gesture of her wrinkled hand and he musters a sheepish, apologetic smile for you as he hurries away from the tent. You don’t make much of an effort to move as you prepare your ego for the chew out it’s about to receive.

“And you. Try to keep the fraternization out of the tent.” With that, she continues past you to search through some files, snickering to herself and shaking her head.

You aren’t about to push your luck. You get to keep your job and ego intact, and that’s enough for you. So, you whisper a quiet, “Yes, ma’am.” And go on with your day.

The encounter with Leon left you feverish and all tingly in every limb whenever it crossed your mind over the following days. You saw him out and about around the base, and during meals he offered you frail waves that faded in a breath.

Truth was, you’re too afraid of rejection to ask him about that night—go figure. Maybe you’re a cliche. Maybe you’re both cliches. Who cares? Well, you do, and you thought the ruffled, pink-tinted expressions on Leon’s face whenever you crossed paths meant that he did, too, but neither of you made a move to approach the other. You questioned if you would rather be told that his only plans for you was a short work fling with no strings attached, or if he felt the connection that you did. A terrible predicament, really, and soon your desire for a straight answer outweighed the fear of hearing something you didn’t like.

When you went to find him in the meal tent, sitting alone in one of the back corners, he wasn’t there. Okay. You waited, then decided to check the nooks and crannies of the base where you knew he hung around, and nothing. Leon vanished into thin air the moment you gathered enough courage to speak to him. Somehow you thought he read your mind and planned for this to happen, just to be able to tease you without being present. But that was simply ridiculous. He had to go to work, just like you had to do yours.

A week went by, then two; no sign of Leon’s reappearance cropped up and you began to worry you wouldn’t get the chance to speak to him at all. The only reminder that soothed you was the fact that you knew the organization was on the home stretch for completely wiping Umbrella’s power in Iceland. This reassured you for many reasons. Mainly, that you’d be able to sleep in your bed again at a proper time that didn’t leave you exhausted; but you also found comfort in the idea of finally getting a word with the blonde agent that clung to your brain like a disease once everything was over.

Of course, you had fleeting thoughts that he died and you’d forever be left wondering about what could have been. But, that was just ridiculous—he’s Leon Kennedy, the agent that saved the president’s daughter from certain death. So, you chalked it up to your anxiety being built up as doubt about the succession of the mission began to be put to an end. That yes, you would all return home soon, and no nothing terrible and tragic would happen just as you were about to win.

Eventually, you all received the verdict of the mission. Success. The sun shone through the clouds brighter that day, in ribbons of gold that elevated all of your senses to something dreamlike. Another catastrophe prevented. More people saved—clockwork. To say you were pleased with the conclusion of your first ever out of country operation would be an understatement; you were ecstatic.

Still, you find yourself fretting over that thing with Leon as you help pack up the equipment in the medical tent.

Winona, who has grown increasingly engrossed in your love life, gives you a knowing look when your lips tug downward and you send a pointed glance toward the entrance of the tent for the tenth time in the last hour. She tsks and shakes her head. It gains your attention.

“Just talk to him,” she insists, shoving a couple boxes of bandaids into the case. She’s unimpressed with your antics and just wants you to get a move on.

You sigh and preen your hair like he’ll walk in at any moment. “I haven’t seen him.”

“Hopeless,” she grumbles in response. “Hopeless. If you won’t do something about it, stop looking at the door like a kicked dog and help me.” Winona retreats further into the tent and you succumb enough to follow her.

You must glower the whole time because she won’t stop sending you dirty looks while she tapes the cardboard boxes with a tape gun. Her movements are threatening. You try to fix your expression when the line of spokes reflects off of the bright horizon outside the tent as it slices the tape.

After the innards of the tent are packed into a dozen or so boxes, you’re the person left to pick them up one by one and drop them off with the rest of the cargo that needs to be shipped. Your back is sore from the sorry excuses of beds you have and your arms ache from hours of cramming things. Kicking snow with each shuffled step, you heave out a lengthy sigh and pause to breathe. There’s a reason I’m not an agent.

“Need a hand?” Leon asks from behind you. You’re wondering how he’s always sneaking up on you.

Still, you nod and can’t help but be relieved. “Please.”

Like it’s filled with air, he takes the box from your hands and cocks a barely-there grin at your awed expression. Smug and content, he marches ahead with you in tow. You don’t really know what to say to him, if anything at all.

You walk alongside him for the first time in the daylight, and you take in his features now that they aren’t muddled in the darkened firelight or blurred by distance. He’s chiseled, sunken cheeks and high cheekbones with that intense look on in his eyes—but there’s something else—boyish, is what you think. Soft jaw. Moles and freckles litter themselves across his face.

Leon is beautiful and you would like to kiss him right now.

He stops at the drop off point, places the box next to the others and turns to you. Suddenly, he looks nervous and you feel some resolve escape your mind. He’s about to ask you something. He opens his mouth, rosy lips parting and you break—you pull him behind a tall stack of boxes and kiss him.

The collar of his jacket is clutched between your fingers in a moment and your lips are on his; the fur tickles your skin. His lips are chapped and cold but you create warmth within him, you could be a summer’s day in this frigid air. His hands come to your waist, then your hips and his fingertips make indents when he holds you tight like this was always supposed to happen. When you part, you’re both breathless.

He searches for his words again, the question he was going to ask. “Would you—dinner? On me.”

You hum in faux thought and peck him on the lips again, then again, and a third time for good measure. He smiles into the last one.

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t start that by saying you stubbed your toe and needed my help.”

Leon chuckles. “I thought about it.”

He pulls you in again, tongue grazing your bottom lip. You lean in further, desperate for connection until you both go slipping like baby deer. The thin layer of snow on the ground left everything icy. He tumbles into some supplies and you land on top of him. You’re both laughing into each other’s mouths. You’re both happy.

You chime together, like clockwork.

#leon kennedy #resident evil 4 #resident evil #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy fluff #leon s kennedy #leon scott kennedy #re4r leon #re4 remake #leon kennedy x y/n #leon kennedy oneshot #fluff #oneshot #resident evil fluff #nurse!reader #nurse!reader x leon kennedy #post re4r

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talaok · 1 month

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Okay so I’m thinking Pedro x Actress!reader where another famous guy/actor says in an interview that he has a crush on us which makes Pedro a bit jealous and then we all end up at the same event - maybe Pedro gets abit angsty with him but he’s super loving and affectionate toward us…

warnings: jelousy

a/n: it goes without saying that i apologize for the wait babe, i really loved this request

It wasn't that he hated him, it was just that if anything were to happen to him he wouldn't be the one to cry, that's all...

and maybe he'd thought about punching that smug look off his face one... or twice... or every time the thought of him came up.

But it still wasn't hate

Hate is a strong word, and Pedro wasn't not one to throw it around easily, he was all for peace and love and everything but this guy... this guy was really pushing the limits

And what the actual fuck was he even doing here tonight?

"You're staring"

Your soft, amused voice pulled him out of his own thoughts, his eyes sliding to you

"I just don't get why he's here"

You stifled a laugh as you answered "The same reason why we are baby"

"he's not even nominated" he grumbled,

"neither am I" You smiled, placing your hand on his cheek, feeling his soft scruff graze your palm "It's not a big deal babe, he probably said my name just because it was the first one that popped into his mind" you shook your head "I bet it's not even true"

Yeah right

He would have believed that if you were anybody else, but you... fuck- it didn't take him even a second to fall in love and you expected him to believe that that guy didn't have a crush on you? He would have sooner begun believing that Mark Zuckerberg was one of those lizard guys.

You were everything anyone could have ever dreamed of, you were funny, so incredibly smart it made him feel like a fifth grader in comparison, and god you were the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen

he knew what you did to men, he knew what you did to men because that's exactly what you did to him,

and he didn't even mind that much, he'd never been the jealous type, but the problem with Shawn wasn't that he liked you (because he clearly did), but it was that he had the audacity, the smugness to fucking say it out loud, to admit it in front of a camera for anyone to see, like the woman he was talking about didn't have a husband, like he wasn't her fucking husband.

"I saw him look at you before"

This time, you did let out a little snort

"what, how dares he?" you mocked him, laughing again as his face remained completely unamused "It's your big night babe, don't let this silly little thing ruin it, please"

But just then, just when he was finally starting to let go a little, the focus of all of his loathing appeared beside you

"I'm sorry to interrupt-"

Then fucking don't

"I just wanted to introduce myself"

Shawn's eyes were only on you, as if he didn't even exist, as if your hands hadn't been on his cheeks but a moment prior

"I'm Shawn," he said, offering his hand to you "I'm... well, I'm a really big fan" he ended with a soft laugh, smiling in that charming way that surely made women all woozy

"Hi Shawn, it's a pleasure to meet you-"

As you shook his hand, Pedro was closing his into fists

This fucking guy-

"Hi pal"

Pedro's voice didn't sound even a little bit not completely pissed off

"I'm Pedro," he said "her husband"

The flicker of amusement that sparked behind his eyes made Pedro seriously ponder whether or not a little punch was that bad of an idea

"Oh, I didn't know you were married"

Andrew's eyes were back to you, and god it was taking all of Pedro not to grab him and throw him to the other side of the room

Just the fact that he was looking your way seemed too much,

How dare he look at you, at his beautiful wife, at the love of his life?

It felt wrong, it was wrong, and it was making him furious

"I'm sure you didn't" Pedro grunted, taking a slow step closer to him "Shawn right?" he asked, even though he knew much too well who he was "What exactly are you doing here?" Pedro's eyes narrowed, his head tilting "I didn't notice your name in any of the nominations"

"baby" your soft warning was met with a soft smile from him, one that faded into a stoic/murderous gaze as soon as your husband's eyes were back on the man before him

"I'm just asking a question sweetheart, that's all"

Shawn seemed to accept Pedro's challenge in the blink of an eye

"I'm here with a friend, he's the one that got the nom"

Pedro nodded slowly, "ah. Right," he said, his hand going to your back and drawing gentle circles on it

He didn't miss the way Shawn followed the movement

"And why exactly are you talking to my wife Shawn?"

Now that, that seemed to take him aback a little, but he recovered quickly

"What?" he laughed "is no one allowed to talk to your wife without your permission or something?"

"Oh absolutely not, my wife can talk to whomever she wishes," Pedro spoke "I'm just not very fond of her talking to men that have openly admitted to liking her" he shrugged as if his eyes and voice weren't yelling murder

You, in the meantime, were busy looking for the fastest way out of this place

"You've seen the video," Shawn said more like a statement

"I sure did" Your husband nodded "I especially liked the part where you described her as your "dream woman""

Shawn sighed loudly, shaking his head

"listen, man-"

"No, you listen, man" Pedro interrupted him "How 'bout you get the fuck away from me and my wife, mh?" he said more like a threat "How bout that?"

Shawn let out a loud breath before responding

"whatever man" he sighed, his eyes moving to you "It was nice to meet you y/n, maybe we can meet another time..." he glanced to the man on your right "when the guard dog isn't around"

"yeah" Pedro scoffed "Go fuck yourself, buddy"

You both stared at his back as he walked away, but after no more than two seconds, you couldn't help but let your lips pull into the smile you'd been holding this whole time

"that was a bit harsh"

Pedro only grinned as he brought you flash against him with his hands on your waist

"Like you haven't done worse" he smirked

Yeah... while Pedro wasn't usually jealous, you were... let's just say you were not exactly on the same wavelength

"you looked ready to kill him" you chuckled, wrapping your arms behind his neck

"mh" he hummed, ghosting your mouth "Who says I wasn't" he teased, his lips crashing with yours in a long, deep kiss that Pedro absolutely didn't wish for Shawn to be witnessing

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cherubify · 2 months

Text

SERVICE CHARGE / LEON KENNEDY

6.5k words, based on this

cw: waitress f!reader, blackmail, stalker, power abuse, noncon, dubcon, (unprotected) p-in-v, fellatio, spanking, implied cunnilingus, dirty talk, corruption kink, breeding, lack of aftercare, mentions of blood (no bloodplay) / minors dni

a/n: big thanks to @xoxostarlet for beta reading! pls check out her work it's vry yummy! n thanks for 50+ follows!! also i hc this as post re4 leon bcs of my og drabble but it can be di/ vendetta leon too it works even bttr ok bye!!

Leon’s not quite sure why he’s so taken with you– a girl waitering at your family’s restaurant, a dingy place in the outskirts of the city. Maybe it’s because he’s a simple guy- sees a pretty, little thing and can’t help but fantasise about you. You’re younger than he’d like, but old enough to warrant his wandering gaze at the way your oil stained apron wraps around your perfect waist, at the knotted ribbon you always messily tie that rests on the swell of your cheeks. You’re practically an angel in his eyes, your halo the form of a sloppily tied hair bun that sits atop your head with unruly strands sticking out.

Maybe it’s because you’re quite a character- armed with rather polite comebacks and one liners that you dish out to ungrateful, difficult customers. Of course, you’re so well loved by the regulars (him included) that you barely have to lift a finger to kick them out yourself. Everyone here in this tiny family restaurant loved you, their perfect waitress with the perfect smile. You’re enthusiastic about your mundane job too, fast on your feet and even faster with your words when running through demanding orders.

Maybe it’s because you’re still so young that you have this amount of energy. Or maybe it’s because of the lack of hired hands that you had to work with ten times the amount of energy you should normally exert. He remembers caring more about details and the nitty gritty things when he was your age. But he digresses.

Whatever it is, he thinks you’re quite the charmer. You have him wrapped around your little finger, and he’d like to make it known to you. But the trouble lies in your denseness. You’re beyond saving with how each of his flirtatious comments would fly over your head, soar, even. With how clueless you were, it was a safe bet to assume you were a dumb little girl who had yet to have her cherry popped. Just a silly virgin playing the pretence of an adult.

Oh right, that’s another reason why he’s so taken by you. The idea of ruining you was exhilarating– worth the trouble of driving for half an hour after work to this hole in the wall just to see you. He finds himself wondering how you’d look bent over the tiny bathroom sink in the back of the shop, jeans pooling at your ankles as he eats your cute butt. Oh, how he’d love to unravel you with only a thin door separating you and your customers and parents.

He has to thank his superiors for meeting you. If it weren’t for that random party they held that night, he probably would never have touched this decrepit store. (For him, an hour away from home meant one less hour to kiss his bed.) That night you had introduced yourself as their waitress and patiently guided them through the menu with recommendations.

The waitress before him with quite the looker, pretty despite the mess on her apron and the sweat that clung to the nape of her neck. How old were you? In your late teens– or maybe your blossoming twenties? He searched your eyes for answers, while you tucked your loose hair behind your ear and waited patiently for his table to decide. He made small talk because that’s something he’s gotten good at with the ladies.

“Quite the establishment you’ve got running here.” He commented as he gestured at the rowdiness with his eyes. You snapped out of your frozen daze to meet his blue eyes. Was this hottie talking to you? You swallowed nervously and wrung your fingers together.

“Sorry,” you laughed breathlessly. “It’s always like this after eight til closing hours. These guys trod in here after work and take it out with booze.”

“I can see that. Your parents own the place, hun?” He asked.

“For twenty years. Going stronger than ever,” you nodded. He smiled and asked for your name, and you willingly gave it with a demure smile.

Your name fits you, perfect for an angel such as yourself, he thought. His coworkers paid you little attention in their drunken state; this was their second round of restaurant hopping. Leon had to remain sober to chauffeur them home, and he was glad that he was sober enough to see and not forget you. You wouldn’t become a blurred image, a forgotten ghost in his memories as a result of intoxication. He was glad he was the only one who would remember this encounter.

On the way out, he had an arm supporting his fallen coworker. You held the door open, not minding the men who leaned lifelessly against his car like mannequins. You seemed amused, casual about the blacked out group that left the store blacked out drunk. Must have seen it a lot, he assumed.

“Do patronise us again, Mr Kennedy. Preferably when it’s not rush hour,” you had chuckled lightly.

And if such a pretty girl like you asked so sweetly, who was he to deny you? So he came as often as he could. You were always busy with attending to other customers, barely having enough time to sacrifice for idle chatter. He needed idle chatter, enough to grow your curiosity in him to be interested.

To get your attention, he would pull out a lighter (an expired one of his, a convincing prop) and click it a few times, cigarette pursed between his lips. And somehow, miraculously over the sea of rowdy customers you always heard it. The clicking over the cacophony in the restaurant. And like clockwork, you would storm over to warn him not to smoke inside.

“Mr Kennedy!” You placed your hands on your hips, frowning. Your brows were scrunched up in a disapproving frown whilst a pout played on your lips.

“It’s Leon,” he said while pocketing the bud and lighter. The grin on his face of hardened features made him look way younger– but you snapped out of your thoughts to fold your arms across your chest.

“Well, Leon,” he shivered at the sound of his name rolling off your tongue. A buttery sound, gentle but firm like your nature. “I told you we don’t allow smoking in our shop. If you want, there’s a quiet alley beside us for it.”

“I know, I know,” he shrugged, and you’d roll your eyes in feigned annoyance before asking for his order.

You placed his menu before him, and without opening it, he recited his usual. And this cycle occurred over and over again like a broken record. Your reactions were the same, albeit less exasperated each time as you got used to his antics. He could tell– he was starting to grow on you.

He would leave generous tips for you too thanks to his expandable wallet. You know, for the service charge. The first few visits you fought to return the money because even though you were poor and desperate, you weren’t going to accept hundreds like it was nothing!

“Mr Ke- Um, Leon. I really can’t accept this,” you shook your head and pushed the stack of bills to his chest.

“Just take it. For the great service.”

“I really can’t, you always leave me no choice.” You frowned but pocketed it anyway. Couldn’t argue with the man who loomed over you even with a counter separating him from you. It made you nervous, and you lacked the heart to push, unlike with other customers.

“Why can’t you?” The blonde asked as you showed him out. Holding the door with your back, you shook your head.

“My parents already think you’re a mafioso with the amount of money you tip. Anymore and I don’t know what they’ll make of you!”

Aw, you were concerned for him? Little ol’ him? He wanted to swipe a thumb over the pout playing on your plush lips and kiss you. Kiss you and lead you to the alleyway beside your family store and take you then and there. How would you react to that, he wondered? Would you be happy?

He was answered instantly when your eyes lit up at something behind him. He turned to see a beat down Toyota in the driveway, and a skinny guy clambered out with a backpack, books in hand. Your face glowed radiantly. Leon wondered what you saw in that awkward boy. You bid Leon goodbye with a stutter and led the boy in, leaving poor Leon to stand on the porch with a disgruntled expression and stinging in his chest. He knew the answer to his earlier question: probably not, because you already had a thing for someone else.

Leon visited again during one of your quieter shifts. During a weekday, on his time off. You sat in the corner of the store with the same boy while doing homework together. When he said something, your face lit up and you laughed toothily. A genuine, earnest and bright smile. Something he never got to witness, receiving only your customer service smiles when he cracked his best jokes for you.

But he couldn’t bring himself to stay mad at you for long. It couldn’t be helped that you were just a doe-eyed girl who didn’t know how to appreciate him. No matter, he could teach you how. Since you were lacking the brain cells to even try. But first, he had to do something about that boy.

It was easier than stealing candy from a baby. Just a few documents and the boy’s home was evicted. He knew the rest, but as you sat across Leon, face buried in your arms as you shared the story, he listened. It was like playing a video game and being spoiled of its ending. Yet he couldn’t bring himself to leave your side as you sniffled about your new ex-boyfriend. Your first one, too. He really helped you dodge a bullet, and you should be thanking him instead of ruining his dinner table with your tears. It left a sour taste in his mouth, but he swallowed it.

“It’ll be okay,” he whispered, even though there was no one else in the store but you two. (And your parents as they watched from the kitchen. His eyes met theirs, and they whispered not so discreetly to one another and he smirked.) He patted your head, and you flinched at the unexpected weight on your head. He mussed your hair with a (fake) smile.

“It’s all gonna work out, I promise.”

You looked at him incredulously, brows furrowed. But you nodded anyway. Good, as you should. You need not question him; just listen and obey.

Months easily passed as he played this game of cat and mouse with you. You, the unsuspecting mouse, who had grown to trust him. Fondly, maybe. He knew what you saw in him- a reliable, honest regular who gave you good advice and helped you at times in need. And it was true, from the goodness of his heart, he was at your every beck and call. And he would be forevermore, even if you rebuked him to the depths of hell, where he rightfully belonged.

So one day, when you looked worse for wear, he asked if something was up. You shared with a tired smile that you’ve been struggling to focus in class lately due to the influx of new customers. A food critic had written a blog post about the store and business boomed. He had to find out who the culprit was and take down their site, but that was for later.

He perked up when you shared that you wanted to put flyers around the neighbourhood to hire more workers. So he offered to help. He had a car, so he could spread the word further and get the job done faster than on foot, he reasoned.

“Thank you so much. You’re the best, Leon!”

Your eyes shone with relief and you threw your arms around him. He caught you, albeit with surprise. You showered him with gratitude while clinging to him as he sat, shellshocked in his seat.

Your first hug. Your curves were soft against his hardened one, and his hands itched to hug you back, to trail down your smaller body and feel you through your work clothes. But Leon steadied himself- he had to win the game in the long run, he couldn’t afford to drop out of the race so soon. The blonde retreated his hands and cleared his throat, and you practically crawled off him. Your hand bumped into the tent between his pants, but thankfully you were too flustered to notice.

“U-Um, I’ll pay you back,” you had said, and you offered him a shy smile. “Not that I have much but I’ll make sure it’s worth your time.”

“How about a kiss?” He prompted with a lopsided smile. Oops, that was an impulsive move. Like chasing the king’s piece while neglecting the imposing queen a few tiles away. Said queen being your parents, who stared at you disapprovingly like you had shed your angelic wings for those of a demon’s.

Your mouth gaped open for a moment but then you shook your head. “You shouldn’t tease me,” you whispered, hands rubbing your arms awkwardly.

His face fell, but he recovered with a boyish grin.

“Just pulling your leg. ‘S all good!”

It wasn’t good. His plans crumbled because he couldn’t keep his mouth shut. Now it was awkward between you two. He found the papers you put up yourself and threw them onto the passenger seat, a messy pile with the share you had given him for his part. He clicked his tongue and shredded the flyers that you painstakingly designed, tossing the pieces out the window as he raced down the highway home in his car. He had to push harder, find other ways to corner you so you wouldn't be able to refuse him. Not again.

Once he reached home, he practically inhaled his shirt, where your scent faintly clung. It was intoxicating, the heat of your body pressed against his and the smell of your sweat mixed with your natural scent. God, you knew how to rile him up without even trying. His cock was painfully hard in his fist as he laid on his bed, stroking himself with his jacket to his face.

When he arrived at the establishment the next day he found you in the back– in the kitchen– where you hung your head in shame while scrubbing dishes. He had caused quite the scene in the store; your father had mustered the courage to warn him (albeit politely) not to lay a hand on his precious daughter. It was quite funny, the man shook like a leaf as he weakly poked a finger into Leon’s chest. It was astonishing and hilarious at how his voice choked whilst dishing out empty threats of what he’d do to Leon if he messed with his girl. All the while your back faced him, unwilling to speak for the next few weeks.

Your parents had taken it on themselves to switch shifts with you whenever he appeared. They practically had his visiting hours memorised too, so it wasn’t like he could waltz in whenever he pleased. They were a pain, an overprotective bunch. For a grown up miss like yourself, it was a wonder why they were still so protective. Probably because they could recognise a wolf in sheep's clothing the moment he walked into their restaurant a second time, eyes prowling until they landed on you.

It mattered not because he would have his way whether they approved or not. He needed no consent form, and not from you either.

…

Your family’s restaurant was on the ground floor of a little building you stayed in. Your residency was located on the second floor, off limits to customers by a locked door. Nothing a little lock picking could solve, thankfully.

Nobody but you was home, he made sure of that when he saw your parents leave in their car. He wasn’t quite sure where you were, but when the sound of running water leaked into the empty hallway, a smile creeped onto his face. His eyes fell on one door that was coloured differently from the rest. There you were. The door creaked ajar, and he peered from the thin gap to see you standing in a glass box. It was humid, water vapour swirled around the bathroom whilst condensation fogged the shower, leaving him little but enough to see.

The shower was turned off, and your hands mindlessly trailed down your body as you scrubbed it with a loofa. You bent over, reaching for your toes, and Leon almost burst in to take you there himself. The growing tightness in his pants hurt, and hell your perfect ass was beckoning him like a sailor to a siren’s call. You hummed softly, blissfully unaware of the man ogling your flushed, naked body.

He swallowed thickly, his Adam's apple bobbing as he shakily took out his phone. The sound of the camera clicking was muffled by the echoing sound of the shower as you sung your silly song. When he had his fill, he took one last longing glance before closing the door behind him.

Women spend forever in showers. Assuming this, he snuck into your room. It was simple, save for the abnormal mountains of plushies that lined your bed and your shelves. Japanese merchandise everywhere– he recognised a smaller white bear next to a much bigger brown one. Rilakkuma, or something. You had quite the collection. Were you fans of those bears? Should he gift you some? Ah, but your parents would toss them into the fire. As his mind somersaulted from one reckless thought to another, he noticed a laundry basket in the corner of your room.

He sauntered over and peered at its contents with sparkling blue eyes. He lifted your sweaters and produced a white one with a pink bow on the front. Your used panties. His heart hammered in his chest as he held it with trembling fingers. The blonde sniffed the damp patch on the gusset and groaned. His dick was already aching to be freed earlier when he saw you in the shower. Now his balls were clenching and screaming for release.

But it would be a waste to stop now. He didn’t know when you would return. So he pocketed the article of clothing and continued rummaging through your possessions.

He even went through your closet to inspect your collection. What were you into? Did you have a specific brand you frequented? Did you prefer lace or silk? Or cotton, like the one snug and warm in his pocket?

He found a matching set of lace underwear sat in the back of a drawer, a translucent design with roses and ribbons. He inspected it curiously– were you waiting to use them? Were you planning on wearing this for your ex-boyfriend? His lips curled into a snarl. It was a good thing he had gotten the kid off your radar. He couldn’t afford to let anyone see you in such scandalous lingerie. Only he should have the privilege of doing so. His mind raced with thoughts as he traced a finger along the strap of your bra.

Then your door creaked and you swung it open. He turned his head to see you, standing at the doorway wrapped in a fluffy towel that hugged your chest and hung above your knees. Your wet hair clung to your face, rivulets cascaded down your flushed skin. When your eyes met his, you froze. Wide eyes met his.

Uh oh.

Before you could scream, Leon lurched forward and clamped a hand over your mouth. He shushed you softly, mirroring your wide eyed expression.

“I know it looks bad,” he whispered. The force against your mouth prevented you from speaking. You began trembling as his lips inched closer, “But I don’t mean any harm.”

“Mmhmm?!” You mumbled against his palm. He withdrew and you gasped, stepping back while hugging your damp, shivering frame. “Leon, you can’t be here. This- This level is off limits to customers!”

“But I’m not just a customer,” he spread his arms. He slowly approached, footsteps thudding against the carpet, “And c’mon, you like me, right?”

Your eyes were ready to pop out of your skull. “Like you? I mean- Yes but- but not like- Like…” You squeaked as your back thumped against your door. Your hand reached behind and blindly searched for the doorknob. When you finally caught it, the blonde slammed a hand beside your head.

His face inched forward, a frown contorted on his handsome, hardened features. “Like what?” He breathed. You shivered at his warm breath fanning your cold skin. Hesitation paralysed your tongue, and as you struggled to speak, he clasped your jaw with his hand. His questioning, cold gaze was unlike the usual warmth he carried. And it scared you. You swallowed and choked out.

“...Not like lovers.”

A silence ensued between the two of you. The birds outside your window chirped with fervour, as if you weren’t cornered by your customer whom you had grown to trust over the past couple of months. His thick brows knitted tightly against his forehead as he gripped your jaw harshly. You winced, his bruising touch hurt and your hands clawed at his wrist. His nose wrinkled with displeasure as his eyes darkened. He was disappointed, but he couldn’t deny that he saw it coming. Didn’t sting any less.

“So that’s what you think of me,” he spat. Then he smashed his lips against yours and yanked your towel off your body. Your hands flew to his chest as you desperately pushed, a muffled scream on your lips as you resisted. Leon gripped your wrists and slammed them over your head against the door whilst slotting a knee between your trembling legs.

You tried to shout but he shoved his tongue into your mouth and embraced yours in a passionate tango. You couldn’t scream, couldn’t stop him as he shut you up with fervent kisses that sent shocks down your spine. His knee rubbed against your slit, and he bumped into your clit purposefully, eliciting a whine from your saliva stained lips. He pulled away to look at you– and gods, you were so beautiful. So pliant for him, so–

“Help!”

You screamed at the top of your lungs. But your head snapped to the side, and you stared blankly at his shoes. Your cheek stung, pulsating with a dull throb as you placed a hand over where he had slapped you. Tears welled up in your eyes and you refused to look up at him. You tried to run again, but this time he dragged you over to your bed and pushed you down.

Then he flipped open his phone and showed you his photos. You gaped in shock at the hundreds of blurry yet distinct shower pics in his album. The focal point? You.

He met your concerned gaze with a half-lidded one. He spoke quietly and slowly as he held the device over your face.

“You can run, but all it takes is one push and I’ll have this photo publicised everywhere. You wouldn’t want to ruin your parent’s business… right?”

More tears welled in your eyes and your bottom lip trembled with a sob. He hushed you and pressed a kiss to your forehead. Lashes fluttered close as your tears slid down your damp cheeks while the water from your undried hair seeped into your sheets. His voice was a broken record as your vision darkened.

“Shh, it’s alright. It’s gonna be alright…”

The rest was a blur. All you remembered was foggy vision and searing skin. But Leon remembered it all. You put up quite an impressive fight for a little girl like you. You had landed a blow in his temple and sent him reeling into your bed frame. But you were too weak to run, thanks to all the love bites he left around your inner thighs and legs that left you tingly and numb. You tried to crawl away, but even then it was pointless.

For the most part, you were pretty compliant. Like the good girl you were, you spread your legs prettily when asked and even nursed his cock with your lewd tongue, eyes glazed with tears and self-hate whilst he ate your pussy out. Hell, the rumours were true. Virgins gave the best head. You let him cum down your throat too, like the good girl you were. Your mouth pussy was so tight that he swore he saw angels flapping above him. And the cherry on top was when he finally hilted inside you, becoming one at last.

You laid quietly on his chest as he stroked your hair. It was damp, unlike your body which blazed with an ungodly heat that only hell could compete with. Your heart thumped in your chest, a rhythm unmatched with Leon’s. You couldn’t see his face, and it was probably best this way.

He was your first– a fact you had to come to terms with. You sniffled softly. Even though he forced himself on you, he still made sure to make it not hurt too much. It was too easy to give in to his touches– so you failed to put up a decent struggle. A single tear slid down your flushed cheek. You hated that he was so gentle yet so cruel with you.

For Leon, you would be his last, because he swore he’d never let go of you. He would make you his. Physically first, emotionally second, whatever the order mattered little to him. Because you were now bound to him, your souls intertwined in ways your bodies could never attempt to achieve.

He stared up at the ceiling. There was so much to do, and so much time now that you were his. Today felt good. Great. Pride glowed in his chest and he kissed your damp hair tenderly. You were finally his. Finally his to take and to train.

…

“L-Leon!” you squealed, clawing at the sink that he had bent you over. Jeans and panties pooled at your ankles, sitting on your dirty sneakers. Your lips were bleeding because you bit them to stop your screams.

You always had the wildest reactions to whatever he did. Was it because you were a nervous wreck? It’s been barely a month since he started breaking you in. Quite a bit of time to get accustomed to his antics. Looks like you needed more practice, he mentally noted.

“Shut up,” he hissed, rising to his full length to tower over you. His chest pressed against your back, and you whined at the heat pressed between your butt. “Be quiet or they’re gonna find us.”

You held his gaze in the bathroom mirror, and he placed his hands over yours as you still gripped the sink. Your hair had come undone, a mess that framed your flushed face as you panted softly. Goodness, you looked like a wreck. No thanks to the smug bastard behind you.

The blonde took pride in his work and belted out a laugh. A smack on your ass reeled you over the sink again, and you glared at him. Your eyes screamed: aren’t you a hypocrite? But he answered with a boyish grin that gave you butterflies. The damned smile of the devil himself.

His zipper travelled south and he popped himself out of his pants. He stroked it mindlessly before spinning you around so that you faced him. You stared at him incredulously and he gestured with a nod of his chin.

Leon needed no words, you knew what he wanted. Your bare knees hit the sticky bathroom tiles as you knelt, on tiles where its corners were cracked and filled with dirt that religiously lined its crevices. You took his semi-hard on in your little hand, and it twitched to stand at full length. It curved towards his toned abdomen, jumping in your loose hold. The head was flushed, beads of precum dotted the circumference of the tip.

You looked up at him and licked tentatively. He inhaled through his teeth as you gave him puppy licks, teasing the tip with the curve of your tongue while languidly stroking his cock. His hands carded through your hair, pushing back your stray hairs so that he could see you better. So pretty and willing for him, he grinned, and so eager to please.

A broken moan fell from his lips as you suckled on the tip like a baby on a pacifier. He tugged your hair backwards, and you frowned at him but took him in your mouth fully. You swallowed around his length, and it jumped in your throat as he clamped a hand on your head. He held you steady as he thrust his hips, fucking your throat deep and slow like he liked. He was never the kind of guy to rush a process in sex. Not when your mouth pussy was the perfect toy in the world. All for him to monopolise and use.

He chewed on his bottom lip and groaned. “So good. ‘S perfect for me, shit- Good girl. Taking my cock with your mouth so well- fuck…” He babbled mindlessly, drowning in his pleasure as you clutched the back of his ankles. You gripped onto the scratchy fabric with your fingernails and moaned around his length. Suddenly, somebody knocked.

“Hey. Are you there, (y/n)?” Your father called out. You stared up at Leon in terror, but he was too preoccupied with your throat hugging his dick to even care. You gagged when he jabbed his dick against your gummy walls.

You glared at him with teary eyes, and he gestured at your nose- no doubt reminding you to breathe with it. Gently slapping his legs, you tried to free yourself with a warning look. Leon rolled his eyes and called out, “You’ve got the wrong person. It’s just me.”

“Oh-” your dad recognised him, and he hesitated before saying, this time louder. “(y/n)’s missing, I can’t find her anywhere.”

“I’m sure she’s fine. Maybe she’s upstairs,” He grinned as he thrust into your mouth. You gagged again, and he chuckled softly as he stroked the top of your head. “Perhaps she’s taking a shower.”

As if something clicked in you, your eyes widened in fear and you tried to pull away frantically. Not that he’d let you, as he held your head in place from the back, fingers tangled with your hair as he dug his blunt nails into your scalp. A warning to remind you of your place. You complied with a weakened grasp on his pants as you lowered your eyes.

Your father muttered incoherently before stomping away. When a minute passed, Leon finally pulled out and you gasped exaggeratedly, a hand rubbing your sore throat.

“You’re such an asshole sometimes,” you whisper shouted through coughs. The fight in your eyes had returned as you leaned against the wall, pants still pooled around your ankles. The man you mistook for a kind person was truly a wolf in sheep’s clothing all along, a ravenous beast that ravaged you whenever he fancied. You knew that now. If only you had known sooner, then you wouldn’t be stuck in this mess.

“You know you like it,” he said in a sing song voice. You crinkled your forehead as he lowered the toilet seat cover and sat on top of it.

He spread his legs and leaned back. His dick twitched against his stomach. Its length shined with your saliva and blood from your busted lips. Your chest tightened as he coaxed you with the wave of his hand.

“C’mon, finish what you started.”

…

Your parents were on to the two of you faster than he’d expected. There was one time when he almost found Leon and you in the restaurant’s kitchen. If it weren’t for the locked door, he was sure your dad (if he could muster the strength) would chop his balls off and frame them above his bed like a banner. That was how much he had grown to detest the regular, evident in the way he would wordlessly slam his dishes down on his table. Maybe he knew what had transpired in the toilet that day. How he fucked your ass and brains out in the toilet til you were a whimpering, unthinking mess. The store had to close for the day because of the lack of help on the sales floor.

Your dad even refused the fat tips for his wonderful service. Oh, whatever shall Leon do?

Your mother was also a bit of a tough crowd. Eyes sharp with distrust, always keeping her daughter by her side in the kitchen. Her death grip on the butcher knife would’ve been frightening if it weren’t for her trembling knees when he gazed her way. Maybe she also knew of that one time he made you squirt in your parent's room, coating their bedroom mirror with your shared fluids as he pressed you against it. Quite the overprotective parents they were.

And for the other regulars, they continued fantasising about their lovely waitress. Not knowing that she was taken by a traitor among them, a guy that kept to himself in the corners, lighter in hand as he lured your attention as always. Like a moth drawn to a flame, you always found yourself in his arms time and time again.

Your parents were in their room next door as you sat in his lap, legs wrapped around his waist. Two bodies clung desperately together, wrapped in a sweaty embrace as he cupped your plush ass cheeks in his hands, hoisting you up and then dropping you so you’d slam down on his length. His eyes, muddied with desire, were locked with yours as your tongues fought for dominance in each other's mouths. A pile of underwear, his and yours– the lacey one with roses and ribbons (from ages ago)– were tangled on the carpet indiscreetly.

Your hands wandered up and down his scarred back. The tip of his cock jabbed against your cervix, and you whimpered against his lips. Fingernails dug into the scar on his shoulder, an indented wound that caused him to exhale through gritted teeth.

“Leon-” you pulled away and rested your forehead against his. Your nose bumped into his as he bounced you, “-I love you. I love- mhn… love you so much…”

The blonde could barely hear your muffled words over the incessant creaking of your bed. But he nuzzled your nose, a smile playing on his flushed face.

“I love you too,” he whispered, and he pressed a tender kiss to your lips. “Love you so much, baby.”

He slowed down his ministries and embraced your lips with delicate kisses. With his twitching cock buried in the depths of your sticky, pulsing cunt, you moaned his name and angled your head for more. Your arms wrapped around his neck in a loose embrace as you stayed like this, sloppily kissing while basking in the moonlight that seeped from your curtains.

You grinded your softness against his body, chest mushed on his sweaty pectorals. A mewl fell from your swollen lips as you gazed at him longingly. “More, need more.”

“Fuck,” he inhaled shakily. He swiped his thumb under the crease of your eye. “You’re such a needy thing. Drunk on my cock this quick already, hm?”

“Yeah,” you smiled softly, “‘Cause it’s you.”

The man laughed quietly– he swore there were butterflies in his stomach. They fluttered around in his depths as if he wasn’t currently balls deep in you. God, he was so whipped for you. He was such a lucky man– he didn’t deserve your smile.

He carefully flipped you over and placed you on your knees. You rested your head on the sheets, leaned forward to tilt your butt towards him. It rested on your crack, and a giggle bubbled from you when you wriggled against his cock. A playful smack on one cheek echoed in your room. You would shoot him death glares whenever he did that. But today you moaned into the sheets and smooshed your ass against his torso for more.

Fuck, he grimaced. How did you get this lewd? Oh it was thanks to him. With his ego mightily stoked, he chuckled and soothed the hand mark with another.

Leon gripped your waist with one hand, another spreading your cheeks to get a better view as he slid himself into your wetness. You were always a tight fuck, gripping hard enough to snap him in half, but today’s descent into you had him arching his own back in bliss. It was like you were trying to milk his balls worth, like you wanted a bun in the oven tonight.

You gritted your sheets in your teeth, strings of drool snaking down your chin as your body rocked up and down the bed. Muffled moans rose in pitch as he speared your insides, his hipbone smashing into your jiggling ass with the relentless snapping of his hips. Dishevelled threads of blonde hair hung over his tightly lidded eyes, bouncing as he chased his high.

“Fuck fuck fuck. I love you. You’re mine-” he rambled as he slammed into your womb punishingly. “-Gonna breed you with my kids. You want that? Fuck, say you want it!”

Tears welled up in your eyes as you babbled his name brokenly. Garbled ‘yes’s fell from your quivering lips, and he snaked a hand under you to slap your clit with his calloused, scarred palm. You gasped and he shoved your head into the mattress when you cried his name in pleasure. A few more slaps and you were trembling like a leaf, your upper body totally collapsed onto the bed like a used doll. Your walls gripped him tightly, ripping out a deep moan from Leon. Then he pressed his hips flushed to your quivering butt and emptied his seed into you.

The warmth in your belly was comforting, the heat spread to the rest of your body as you hummed softly in approval. You collapsed entirely on the bed, and his dick slipped out with a soft sound. Stained with rings of cream, it hung limply between his toned thighs, and you weakly crawled over to run your tongue along one of its veins.

Leon’s cock twitched on your tongue. Amused, he took his phone and snapped a picture of you. He held the screen beside your face, gazing at the matching blissed out expressions you carried in both. He pushed your hair behind your ear as you nuzzled against his leg. Your eyes began fluttering shut, and he gently adjusted your limp body so that you laid down beside him. He pulled your blanket over the two of you and held you flushed to his chest. Your breathing slowed to a steady pace, and he pecked your forehead with his lips.

You deserved a bigger tip the next time he visited. For your generous customer service. He made a mental note and closed his eyes, too tired to care about the rattling of your doorknob across the room.

all content written by @puppyina ! do not repost, edit or plagiarise. requests are open for any past written characters.

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leqonsluv3r · 2 months

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you are in love

— leon realizes he’s in love with you after being his best friend for years, a blurb

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an: thank you guys for 300 followers, i love you all so much <33 thank u for supporting my silly lil writing and blog :,)

from a very young age even to now you weren’t sure where you began or leon ended.

you two grew up together, best friends since you both knew how to walk. your moms were best friends and therefore so were you and leon. he only had a year on you.

but you both went through all the stages of childhood, teens and adulthood together. you both had seen each others lowest and highest points in life.

leon had held your hand when you were seven and he was eight, on the first day of school when you were nervous at the other kids for maybe making fun of you. even then, he protected you.

when you were fifteen and he was sixteen, when he punched a guy in the face that you were with because he simply called you fat and unlovable. leon made sure that he paid, because you were neither of those things.

in his eyes, then and now, you were perfect. there wasn’t a single thing he would change about you.

now, you were 21 and he was 22. he had just came over to your apartment to borrow something. you had just gotten out of the shower, your hair was wet and damp with water as well as your skin.

your cheeks flushed as you tugged on your sleep shirt a little to hide your chest beneath it from his eyes, even after years, you were still somewhat embarrassed to even think about him seeing you that way.

he grabbed what he came for, rubbing a hand over your shoulder and pressing a kiss to the crown of your head for comfort. and it was strictly platonic, at least in both of your minds it was written off that way.

but it didn’t feel that way.

slowly over time, both you and him realized in your own ways that you both had been denying the truth to each other for the longest time.

you both wrote it off as friendship, as caring for each other so deeply that it had overridden everything else. you were both in love with each other.

you didn’t see the signs at first, you didn’t recognize that what you felt him went way beyond the friendship boundary. you loved him as a best friend and somehow overtime it had blended together.

the hugs, the comforting caresses, they had all melded into something else overtime and you didn’t know how to come to terms with it. you were in love with your best friend.

and it was getting harder to avoid as the days passed, as you both hung out and time went by. that was until he came by your apartment one day, a movie night.

a tradition you guys have had since you were kids, carrying it into adulthood. you didn’t question it and neither did he, the both of you just kept carrying it.

being your inner child’s for just one night together. a night you could pretend that jobs didn’t exist, could pretend that life was simple. that you both didn’t have a care in the world.

he brought himself, a box of pizza and a couple DVDs (because some traditions never change). you smiled at his options for the movies, Pretty in Pink, Breakfast Club or Dirty Dancing. it seemed 80s rom-coms were a theme and you didn’t mind, you’d both watched them a thousand times.

he knew how much you loved those movies after all, always blushing at Dirty Dancing whenever patrick swayze would say, “Nobody puts baby in a corner”. it practically made your ten year old brain melt when you were both kids and watched it for the first time.

you popped in Pretty in Pink first, the night was still young, the both of you could probably watch all three if you were feeling up to it. it was friday night movie night of course. you both sat on the couch, pizza on paper plates and ate, watched the movie.

you were fully entranced, having someone like these fictional characters in these 80s movies made your expectations so much higher. and the scary thing was, you knew leon met all those requirements.

as the night went on, Pretty in Pink ended and you guys had two slices of pizza left. you popped in The Breakfast Club next, watching the characters on the screen. the comparisons running through your mind. you were still nervous.

the two pieces of pizza were long gone by the second movie and you had moved closer to leon on instinct to get comfortable. you put in the third and final movie for movie night, Dirty Dancing.

you watched as your breath caught in certain points in the movie, he looked over at you, watching you never take your eyes off the screen not once. he knew it was dangerous but he had an idea.

it could either go very badly or very well.

he waited until that one part of the movie, towards the ending. he was waiting for that line that had made you blush and giggle since you two were kids. when it got right up to it, he gently reached his hand up.

he swallowed all of his nerves, all of the emotions flooding through him and he gently turned your chin with his fingers and said, “nobody puts baby in a corner.” along with patrick swayze.

you felt your pulse pound as you stared into his eyes when he did that. your breath catching only a little. the shift happened between you two, it was hard to ignore. you didn’t even turn back to the tv screen, just felt him rub his thumb over your bottom lip.

you didn’t even move, you couldn’t deny yourself the truth anymore and it seemed neither could he. he leaned forward towards you and pressed his lips slowly to yours. your lips were soft, softer then he ever could’ve imagined. he cradled your cheek and let you kiss back, your lips moving with his.

he wasn’t scared anymore. you seemed to want him just as much as he wanted you. you both seemed to love each other and that wasn’t determined. you hadn’t said it to him yet, he hadn’t said it to you.

but this kiss, it changed everything.

it changed the way you saw him, the way he saw you. you both had harbored feelings so deep between the two of you and you couldn’t deny it. neither of you could.

the movie played on in the background as you two continued to kiss each other, the caress of his hand on your cheek…melted something within you. you moved your hand up to his jaw and cupped it, mirroring his movements as you guys kissed and poured your love into each other.

spoken words muttered between caresses of lips and teeth and tongues; i love you and a i love you too. the line between friendship and love was more thin than the both of you thought after all.

and you both had all the time in the world to accomplish that for each other now. you were both in love, and it was the best thing for the both of you.

love conquered all, even friendship.

and you both knew that now.

an: this was way longer than i intended but i just love this song by taylor swift. it literally defines a love story and i knew i needed to write something for it with leon. i hope you guys enjoyed, please like & repost if you would. working on oneshot requests as we speak. taglist is linked at the beginning if you’d like to be on it. i love you all. kisses, xx. <33

#leon kennedy #leon x reader #re2 leon #leon kennedy au #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy fic #leon kennedy imagine #re2 remake #leon s kennedy #leon kennedy fanfic #leon kennedy re2 #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy drabble #leon kennedy x fem reader #leon kennedy x y/n

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sir-kuroo · 9 months

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.—♡ 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐁𝐑𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐋 𝐊𝐈𝐋𝐋 𝐌𝐄 𝐈𝐅 𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐈𝐍𝐃𝐒 𝐎𝐔𝐓 { IWAIZUMI HAJIME }

IWA-CHAN has one temptation he cannot resist and it’s you…his best friend’s younger sister; a repost from my og blog

𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐒 ⋮ f!reader, fingering, pussy eating, ass squeezing and some risky position c/o iwa-chan 🙈💦, creampie, dacryphilia, softdom iwa-chan, petname: angel

Hajime had his arms folded, fists clenched and so was his jaw as he watched you bend over while you pick up your jug of water. Your ass on that yoga pants almost hid nothing for his imagination. Not to mention that the tightness of that pants outlined the shape of your pussy.

Shit!

It’s all that shittykawa’s fault! He was the one who’s supposed to work out with you today because he’s finally on vacation in Japan for a while.

This was supposed to be a big brother and little sis bonding time but he phoned early in the morning….“Iwa-chan can you work out with Y/N-chan today….blah blah blah” What a silly excuse he gave!

But Hajime didn’t want to let you down. Not you. He didn’t want to see you upset, so he’d willingly stand in for your brother on this work out he promised.

“Are we done?” You asked, your face flushed from the sweating and it caught him off guard a little.

“Ah, yes.”

Hajime scolded himself as you both walked to your home. You’re his best friend’s little sister! What was he even thinking? Not that you’re a minor or whatever.

Ever since you were younger, Hajime saw you as his little sister too, but things started changing when Oikawa left for Argentina and Hajime went back home from the U.S.

He was surprised that you’re no longer the little girl he once thought you were.

Damn! You grew up so fine that you had been an excruciating forbidden fruit for him to bear. He couldn't help but admire you everytime your mom would invite him for a dinner in your home every weekends.

He felt guilty at times that whenever he would stroke himself an image of you would pop out in his head. His best friend's little- no, scratch that- younger sister.

You didn't seem little anymore.

“Do you wanna have some tea?” You invited him in and he obliged. “Oh, mom's not here by the way but she left something for you.”

“Huh? So who’s home?” He asked, abruptly.

You placed your bottle atop the table. “No one. Just us, I think.”

Oh shit. This was a mistake.

“Just get yourself comfy.” You chuckled. “I’ll just change my shirt and will get right back with your tea.”

“Yeah, sure…” He smiled at you as you headed into your room. As soon as you were gone, he ran a hand on his face.

What was he doing here alone with you?

Suddenly, he was alarmed when he heard a pained sound from you. Immediately, he rushed up to your room to check on you. He couldn’t let anything happen to you.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, standing outside your bedroom with a worried look on his face. Your door was slightly open hence he could see you inspecting your back in the mirror.

“Oh, it’s nothing. Just a lower back pain. Maybe because it had been so long since I last worked out that hard.” You reassured him touching the area where it stung while looking at it in the mirror.

Hajime went behind you to see for himself. “Where does it hurt?”

Your breathing started to get heavier than before as he stood right behind you so close. “H-Here…” You pointed out the area under your shirt just above your hip.

His rough hand gently caressed your skin. You gasped.

“Here?” He asked, voice now raspy and almost breathless.

“Yes…”

He continued massaging you gently. His hand soothingly rubbing in circles. His warmth and pressure made you moan uncontrollably. Your eyes met through the mirror as you both breathed raggedly. Your gazes were filled with helplessness, need. and lust.

You both gulped.

“H-He’ll kill me if I-” Hajime tried but he could no longer rationalize as you already stepped backward and had your ass pressed against his now hardened cock straining against his sweatpants.

“Fuck it!” He said under his breath as you leaned yourself back on his sturdy body.

Your body moved on its own without thinking. It's Iwaizumi Hajime we were talking about. It had been years since you were admiring him from afar as you thought he couldn't see you more than being his best friend's younger sister.

However, with the way his eyes lustfully raked your body all this time this morning, you knew that you're no longer a little sister in his eyes anymore.

His hand now roam under your yoga pants and your panties, finding its way hot on your skin. Massaging your ass, he breathed against your ear. “You sure you want to do this?"

You nodded your head. "Yes, please," you said, almost running out of breath.

"Then tell me where else does it hurt, angel?” He whispered.

You whimpered and ground against his erection. From your ass cheek, he slowly traveled his hand in between your thighs. “Here? Tell me. Does it ache here too?”

You nodded your head and tilted it back once he began massaging the lips of your pussy with the friction of his rough fingers. Finding out you were so wet for him already, he gained confidence that it wasn’t just him feeling this bothered all along. “I see…you’ve been aching this much, huh?”

Your hand flew up to reach his head from behind you now giving him access for a kiss. He wasted no chance and immediately tasted your lips. His tongue making its way inside your mouth and his fingers starting to explore your folds, tracing your slit and teasing your clit.

You moaned against his mouth and ground even harder against him, which made him groan.

Not being able to contain it any further, he completely pulled down your bottoms. “Face here.” He ordered and you followed. He knelt in front of you and gasped once he’s face to face with your cunt glistening with arousal. “So pretty.” He murmured as his hands parted your thighs. His mouth met your folds and his tongue circled round and round on your clit.

“Hmmn, ahhh,” you cried out and it encouraged him to go faster and press even harder to please you even more.

Grabbing your thigh, he wrapped your leg around his shoulder. You tugged on the strands of his hair, finding balance as he drank you deep. His other hand clenching and unclenching your ass repetitively.

God, you’re just dripping for him that he could drink you bottomless. This alone made it harder for him not to come just by going down on you.

It wasn’t enough though. It never would be, so he hooked another of your leg around his shoulder. His biceps bulged as he stood up, carrying you and eating you out at the same time with his hold on your thighs strong and firm.

You yelped as he held you up high with his tongue and lips focused on consuming you. Your heart raced even faster in this position. Both of your hands gripped on his hair as your hips involuntarily gyrate against his mouth while attempting not to fall. His hand squeezing your ass, he'd probably leave a mark there.

Endlessly, you moaned and whimpered. Your brother might come home anytime but it didn’t really matter now. All you could think of was Hajime’s strong grip on you and his skillful sucking and slurping.

“Aaah…ah! Ah! I’m coming! I-I’m-“

With ease, he threw you in your bed.

Just by the feral look in his eyes as he wiped off his chin with the back of his hand, just with the way his muscular chest heaved from his heavy breathing and just from the way your throat felt dry by seeing how hard his cock had gotten through his pants, you knew.

You knew you were just about to begin.

“Not yet, angel.” He knelt between your parted legs and took his shirt off. “We’re not done yet.”

Your eyes were stuck on the plane of his well-sculpted chest. The sweat that crawled down from his skin made you lick your lips involuntarily. If only your brother wasn’t about to come home anytime, you’d take time getting a taste of Hajime.

Holding your chin, he made you look up at him and took your lips to his. So fuckin’ sexy. Just how he imagined devouring those lips for so long with your tongues entwined with each other like this. While you were busy getting lost in the kiss, he took your hand and pressed it over his sweatpants just right where you could feel him throbbing big and hard for you.

“You feel that?” He breathed against your cheek. “Tell me you want it.”

Feeling tingly in between your thighs, all you could do was nod in response.

“Use your words, angel.” He commanded

Breathlessly, “I…want you please.”

He shifted his pants down and you gasped at the sight of his cock from beneath. You never thought he would be that rock hard so sturdy and huge, but your pussy couldn’t wait to receive him. He parted your legs further. Damn! You’re so wet and it did make his cock twitch. He never felt so needy and hot like this before.

“I’m going in. You ready?” He asked and you nodded your head. “Okay…take a deep breath, angel. That’s right. Very good.”

“Hnghh!” You both winced at the very moment he slid his full length inside of you.

“Did you…Did you just come for me angel?”

You nodded your head and whimpered. You were still sensitive but he started easing in so slow. You clung around his shoulder but you soon found your nails digging his back as he began to hasten.

Fuck! He’s hitting you so deep. You’re so deep and tight, squeezing his girth so snug. “Ahh, shit! Feels so good, angel.” He chanted under his breath. “So long…” Thrust. “I’ve been wanting to do this.”

He swore he tried to be gentle with you, but with you moaning his name like you needed more, he couldn’t help but lose himself. The more he pushed and pull from you, the more he wanted to do it faster, rougher, harder.

“Hah…Ha…Hajime, ahhh~”

Still, he wanted to know if you’re in the same page. After all, you’re his now. “What do you want? Tell me. Now.” He growled.

“M-More…everythingh-“

“Fuck!” There’s no stopping him now. He pulled away from you, kneeling. He raised your legs up high and opened you up wide in a V, gripping your ankles with his strong hands. His cock slammed back inside so deep in you that you spilled a tear or two. You tried to cover your cries but had to hold on to your sheets or you might end up floating.

Groan and growls were escaping him and his jaw was clenched while he pounded you rapidly like he’s in a marathon.

Come to think of it, your bedroom door’s damn wide open. With the way you were screaming his name, the whole neighborhood probably knew that he was fucking his best friend’s sweet little sister like it’s a fucking work out.

Damn! This was a whole lot better than a work out. He couldn’t even remember that he could fuck full force like this. His hips plunging hard that you were sliding further and further at the very edge of your bed. Both of your skins now red with all the slapping.

You’re now feeling light-headed and you knew you’d completely lose it any moment now. “Haah…Hah Haji-“

“Y/N-chan! Yohooo! Can you please open the door for me? I know you’re there. Your lights are on. Forgot my keys!”

Shit! He’s here!

Much to your surprise, instead of slowing down, Hajime pressed your legs together, bringing them to his right shoulder and hugged them as he fucked you harder. Last thing he wanted, was to hear Oikawa’s yapping while fucking you.

“Y/N-chan?! Where are you?”

“Wait- Wait!” You moaned loudly. The more your brother called out for you and whined outside the rougher Hajime was doing it.

“Y/N-chan, faster~” Tooru yelled from the outside.

Faster huh? Letting go of your legs, he grabbed your waist sliding your body to meet his increased speed. He couldn’t care. Not anymore.

Deep. He was in so deep you could feel him almost reaching your belly. “Yes! Yes! Aaaah, mhmmn coming!” You screamed and quivered. “I-I’m coming!”

Hajime kept his pace finding his own release. Shit! Condoms!

“Fuck! Shit, angel!” He hissed not being able to control himself anymore, spilling his cum inside you. Never mind. Never fucking mind! Oikawa fucking Tooru may as well expect not only a best friend from him but a nephew or a niece too.

You both caught up with your breaths, but it was him who managed to get up first as you laid there limping. He covered your almost bare body with a blanket and kissed your forehead, the tip of your nose and finally your lips. “I’ll take care of your annoying brother.”

Oikawa looked so shocked to see his best friend open the door instead his sister. Hajime really wanted to see how he’d react.

“Iwa-chan? What’re you doing here? Oh, you went to see me? Do you miss me that much? We just hang around yesterday.”

Not really, I just fucked your sister so good my fingers were probably imprinted around her waist and ankles. “I just waited for you so that Y/N won’t be alone at home.”

“Wow, I never thought you’d make such a caring big brother, Iwa-chan.”

You bet your ass I’m big and your sister knows it so well.

He might blurt what happened out, but he’s really trying his best to include your consideration in this as well. After all this wasn’t just about him, but damn! This was harder than he thought. Oikawa’s so good at reading people.

Before Hajime could give himself away with Tooru finally starting to become suspicious, you arrived just in time.

You approached him almost tripping, but he caught you in his arms. You couldn’t walk well yet. Your legs still felt like crumbling.

“An- Y/N are you alright?” He asked, concern.

“I just like to thank you and see you off.”

“Do you hurt anywhere?”

“I’m fine. Well, it was just…so intense.” You reasoned out with a reddened face.

He chuckled and smiled gently at you. “Don’t worry. Let’s take it slow next time, okay?” If only Tooru wasn’t watching, he’d definitely kiss your forehead.

“N-Next time?”

He rubbed the back of his neck. “Well, yeah I’m free everyweek.”

“I am too.” You grinned in anticipation. “I’m okay with everyweek.”

“Y/N-chan, come on now!”

Hajime swore at that time that on Tooru’s next vacation he’d be welcomed by his new nephew or niece. Might as well both.

“Okay, go on and rest now. You must be worked up.” Fuck! He really wanted to give you a kiss, but… He raised his head and waved at your brother who’s watching keenly, “I’ll just chat with you, bro.”

Bro? Tooru quirked up an eyebrow.

As soon as he turned his back, Hajime grinned. He totally did that on purpose. Once Tooru finally return to Argentina, it won’t only be every week.

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#iwaizumi smut #iwaizumi x reader #hq smut #hq x reader #haikyuu x female reader #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu smut

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