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eliysian · 5 months

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Bloodied Bullets, Soft Confessions

╰﹒ the reader gets hurt on a mission-gone-south, and Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley is not having it.

content/warnings: mentions of blood and injuries; slight arguing and ghost being a bit of a meanie—all for a good reason; hurt/comfort; gn!reader; wc 1.8k

a/n: thank you so, so incredibly much for the love and support for my previous story! I was nervous to post it, so the warm welcome meant the world to me. I hope you enjoy this one too. ♡

“Take off your vest and jacket.”

Had it been under any other circumstances, the sheer dominance in Ghost’s voice would have left you weak in the knees. It would have made your breathing catch in your throat, and your head spin: your forehead to glisten with sweat, and your teeth to close around your bottom lip.

You did all the things listed above, but it wasn't because of the depth of his voice. Right now, as you cursed under your breath, your panting, sweating, and cursing were brought on not by Ghost, but by the excruciating pain on your shoulder.

“Sarge, take off your fucking jacket.”

He dropped to his knees on the dusty floor of the dim shack, his fingers fumbling for his med kit. For nearly a year you had known the man, yet not once had you seen his hands shaking.

Not until now.

“For fuck’s sake, sergeant. Do not make me pull fucking rank here. Jacket off, and sit your ass on the fucking couch.”

Like from a snap of a band, you seemed to stumble back into reality. Your senses sharpening, you rushed into action—shaky curses passing your lips, as your fingers worked on your buckles and zippers.

Jesus fuck, did it hurt, yet suddenly—for a fleeting moment—you nearly forgot all about your pain.

Because on your jacket, you only saw one hole.

A single hole.

“Ghost?”

“Sit down, sarge.”

“There’s no—,” you hated the way that your voice cracked. The way that your eyes searched for his, as the fear settled into your chest. “There’s no exit wound.”

“I know. I need to dig out the bullet,” he nodded his head, his voice strained. “But I can’t fucking do that if you keep standing over there, now can I?”

Fucking hell.

Swallowing, you forced your feet to carry you onto the dusty old couch, the springs creaking as you did.

“If I fall through this fucking couch, I’m blaming you.”

“If you had listened to my fucking orders—“ He left his sentence hanging, as his fingers moved to investigate the wound on your shoulder. “Can you fucking stay still?”

“I didn’t move.”

“You’re shaking.”

“I was fucking shot, Ghost.” Your words, despite being laced with a touch of annoyance, were spoken as a breathless laugh. “I can’t fucking help—“ Your eyes squeezed shut, as he rested the palms of his hands around the wound and pressed down. “Fucking hell—“

“Bite down ‘em moans, love.” His brows were furrowed with his concentration. “I see the fucker.”

“Intact?”

“Can’t tell.”

Fuck.

“Pass me 'em tweezers.”

With quivering hands, you did as you were told. “First time fishing out a bullet?”

“Not even damn close.”

“So why are your hands shaking?”

From your words, he paused: his gaze meeting yours for only the briefest moment, as he spoke. “I’m your only fucking chance at getting this bullet out fast enough to avoid infection, so how ‘bout you keep your mouth shut and let me focus?”

With an arched brow, you nipped your bottom lip between your teeth—only to bite down, hard, as he dipped in the tweezers.

“Jesus—“

“I know, darlin’.” His voice was deep, as his other hand moved to massage your shoulder. “Just breathe for me, yeah? In and out.”

Your chest was rising and falling with your heavy breaths, yet his hand on your shoulder helped.

His voice and the familiar depth of it were grounding.

“Keep talking,” you managed, brows knitted. “Please.”

“I don’t—“

“Tell me a stupid joke, or—or fucking yell at me for not listening to your orders. Whatever gets you talking.”

“Fine.” Ghost cursed under his breath, as his fingers kept on working on your shoulder. “So there's Bob, yeah?"

“Who the fuck is Bob?”

“Just—fucking listen. Bob hasn't got any arms.”

“What happened to his arms?”

“Sarge.”

“Sorry.”

“Knock, knock.”

“Who’s there?”

“Not Bob.”

"I—" Your laugh was breathless, as you shook your head. “I sort of wish you had yelled at me instead. That was the worst fucking knock knock joke I’ve heard since—“

“Yeah, well. It was long enough to keep you distracted.” He lifted up the tweezers, between which a small bullet glimmered in the dim light of the shack. “Intact.”

“Fucking hell,” you breathed out, as he dropped the bullet on your open palm. “I’m so keeping this as a trophy.”

“It wasn’t your fucking first one, was it?”

You arched a brow with a warm laugh, fingers now playing with the bloodied piece of metal. “I guess I’d been lucky so far.”

“Doubt luck had much to do with it.” Though his eyes did not meet yours—he was busy looking for a gauze to bandage you with—you could hear the touch of annoyance in his voice.

You had fucked up.

“Look, Lt.—“

“I gave you a simple fucking order to fall back.”

“Ghost, I—“

“A fucking rookie would understand what it means when their superior tells them to fall the fuck back.” His fingers kept fumbling with the med-kit, despite the gauze being right beside his hand.

He couldn’t even look at you, could he?

“I’m sorry.”

“Why the fuck did you not fall back?”

His gaze avoiding yours had been hard to handle, yet as he lifted his head and his eyes met yours, the anger, and frustration, and goddamn desperation in them was like a dagger through your heart.

“Because there were too fucking many of them, Ghost.” Your brows knitted, as you shook your head with your frustration. “Because if I hadn’t stayed, you would have been the one to take a fucking bullet for some simple goddamn A-to-B mission.”

“As your superior, it is my fucking job to evaluate the situation, sergeant.” His voice was laced with the same frustration that played in your voice. “The last fucking place I wanted you to be was—“

“Beside you, when everything went south? There were fucking six of them in full riot gear and a basket full of grenades as if they were goddamn apples. There was no fucking way you were going to walk out of there without—“

Without getting hurt.

“Why the fuck do you think I wanted you gone?”

So that you would be safe.

So that one of you would live.

“You knew we wouldn’t make it,” you managed, your voice cracking with your realization.

“I knew one of us could.”

Fucking—

“Asshole.”

Ghost snapped his gaze up, his brows furrowed. “Wanna fucking repeat that, sarge?”

“I called you an asshole. I—” You shook your head, frustrated, as an unbelieved laugh bubbled from your lips. “Let me get this straight. This entire time you were mad at me because I took a fucking bullet saving your ass when you were planning on doing the same for me? Do you fucking—do you hear yourself talk?”

“That’s not the fucking—“

“So me refusing to leave the side of someone I care about is the biggest goddamn crime out there, but you expected me to just—what?—continue my life out there after losing you like nothing fucking happened? Like the person I love didn’t just fucking die protecting me?”

“It was you or me, sarge. It was—“ He paused.

A second passed, followed by another.

And that—that’s when it hit you.

You let it slip, didn't you?

He blinked. “What did you just—“

“Don’t,” you managed, your eyes blinking shut as your breath clung to your throat. “Ghost. Don’t.”

“Repeat what you said, sergeant.”

“No.”

“That’s a fucking order, sarge.”

With a deep breath, you spoke. “I asked you if you expected me to continue my life as if the person I loved didn’t just die—“

“Protecting you.”

Fucking hell.

“Did you mean it?”

“Ghost—“

“Answer my fucking question.”

“Yes.”

Even with your eyes remaining closed, you could hear the deep breath that passed his lips.

“Fucking hell, love.”

“Can we just forget I—” You shook your head. “We could just forget.”

“Yeah.” You could hear the way he swallowed, thick, as he shifted on the floor of the shed of which silence was suddenly deafening. And then, he continued. "Yeah. Or we could just fucking stop pretending like this hasn't been—" He blew out a deep breath. "It's been fucking months, love. We could forget, or we could just fucking stop pretending like we didn't have it in for each other from the first goddamn moment you walked in. Like it hasn't been months of wanting to—"

Kiss him.

Touch him.

Scream the three little words at him.

And despite the spinning of your head, your chuckle was warm as it passed your lips. "Well, I'm not sure I'd go as far as to say I had it in for you from the moment I saw you. It did take somewhere between one to twelve hours for—"

From the feeling of his hand reaching for your cheek, the words died down on your lips, now slightly parted.

"For—?"

"What?"

"You didn't finish your sentence," he mused. He was closer now, as the back of his hand caressed your skin. Soft and gentle: so at odds with the roughness of his voice, and the size of his hand, slightly calloused.

So at odds with the way that the two of you had been going for each other's throats for ten months.

So fucking welcome of a change.

"I think I've forgotten what I wanted to say."

"That's a first," he chuckled. "Think I like it more when you talk."

"Think I like it more when you shut the f—," your brows furrowed, as your words were cut off. Yet this time, it was not because you did not know what to say, or because he was too impatient to let you finish.

This time your words were cut off by Ghost’s lips on yours.

You knew better than to open your eyes, as he moved closer to you. You knew better than to push it, as his fingers closed around your wrist and brought it to the side of his neck.

Permission to touch him. To feel the warmth of his skin against yours, as your lips deepened the kiss. Warm and passionate, driven by months of built-up frustration and yearning, and something so much softer and gentler.

Something loving.

Something meant to be.

#simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley fluff #ghost x reader #ghost cod x reader #simon ghost riley x reader

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eliysian · 5 months

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something about this has me in TEARS

safe house

Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x F!Reader Wordcount: 3.1k Warnings: semi public sex. rough smut. pain kink. size difference. ghost is a simp. sex on a couch. cum play Summary: “Kid,” he husks. “I wouldn’t give a shit if they all came in and watched.” Simon 'Ghost' Riley Masterlist

Of all the risky shit you've participated in, deciding to sit with Ghost post-mission takes the cake. Things just happen. Out of your control.

You can't not listen to him.

Even your teammates give you nervous glances when Simon barks at you to come see him for a "debrief."

You're screwed, lass.

Eat a dick, Soap.

So here you are, forced to brush shoulders with your hulking lieutenant while the others shower or scrape cold chili out of cans in the tiny safe house kitchen.

Everything is secure.

Ghost smells like fireworks. There’s snow still melting in his boots. He’s managed to remove all his gear aside from his gun on the coffee table, but he’s just as enormous. Burly. Rippling with that animal aggression, he can’t shake off after a mission.

“You should shower,” you suggest sweetly. You’d gotten first dibs, but you’d been unable to scrape off the blood wedged under your fingernails and mud crusted to your hairline like sea barnacles. You feel dirty, as if the job had left you withered and full of dust. There’s the particular flavor of guilt clinging to the underside of your mouth.

“You didn’t listen to a direct order,” Ghost utters in a voice so quiet it could flicker into smoke. He was screaming at you earlier, demanding that you return to him instead of toward the USB drive with the intel. Red Fox. You take one more bloody step, and I’ll suspend your ass.

“It would have been for nothing had we not gotten it,” you protest. Deny. Deny. Double down. Invent excuses, even though the scariest man alive is speaking to you like he may just break your neck.

He shifts on the couch. The sounds of your teammates seem very far away, although they’re only in the next room. Simon is angry, and it’s not the familiar hot-headed fury he favors. No. It’s chilling. He’s holding himself back. Out of the corner of your eye, you see his gloveless fingers curl around the edge of the couch. They’re enormous hands. They can wrap entirely around your bicep, the nape of your neck, or the crown of your skull.

He leans back, thighs spread open, stealing space and shoving you toward the end of the couch without even moving a muscle.

“I’m sorry,” you offer rather pathetically. Your voice is audibly weary, utterly subservient. Ghost runs a tight fucking ship, and everything can collapse if you step a hair out of line.

He presses his arm against yours, lowering his head closer to your ear. “I don’t give a fuck.”

His hand finds your hip, and before you realize it, he’s got one arm banded around your chest while keeping you pinned to his front. Hee slides behind you until you’re both horizontal, your legs tangled together, his covered mouth puffing warm air against your jaw. You could be spooning if his embrace wasn’t so carved with aggression.

“You know it’s not about bloody fuckin’ orders,” he growls as he shoves your sweats down your thighs.

“Wha-”

You choke on a gasp as the muscular forearm around your cotton-covered tits squeezes, sealing you into him until you can’t budge an inch. You can hear him fumbling with the button on his pants. There’s blood on his boots. The denim and his sweatshirt irritate your bare skin. You’re damp from your shower, and he’s coated in a thin film of battle. “Simon,” you warn. “They’ll - they’ll come in.”

Unbothered, he continues, and you can feel him, heavy and hot against your lower back. “What did I tell you?” he mutters into your hair. “Before we left...when I had you on your knees?”

Your mind is sprinting on overdrive. The blood rushing under your skin is flaring to an almost unbearable heat. Yesterday morning? You’d snuck into the bathroom with Simon...gotten on the cold tile floor, and sucked him off until he’d nearly punched a hole in the cheap plaster wall. He’d been surprised. It’s not like you hadn’t screwed before, but anytime you ever gave him pleasure when it was only about him, he’d get totally weird.

Like he didn’t deserve it even though he -

Without warning, he breaches you with a thick finger. You bite down on your lower lip, swallowing a grunt. Your sweats are caught around your knees, and his tree trunks for legs spread you open and stretched like you’re latched into an intricate web. He lazily thrusts into your soaked cunt, drawing his finger out to the tip before sinking it back to the knuckle.

“Jesus, Riley,” you moan, and the arm across your breasts lifts just enough so he can cover your mouth with his hand.

“What did I say, love?”

Your brain isn’t working. Your entire focus has narrowed to the overwhelming sensation of him finger-fucking you from behind. It is a rare show on his part. It’s risky, but Simon Riley is a super soldier, and his hyper-fixation is now firmly on the task of ruining you.

He lowers the hand from your lips to allow you to speak.

“Swallow it?” you try, and he pauses before an unsettling, baritone noise reverberates within his massive chest and he withdraws his finger only to bury two inside you.

You jerk, keeping silent but dangerously on the brink of a damn orgasm. You’re drenched, and Ghost’s slow, drawn-out movements squelch with every perfunctory pump of his hand.

You can feel the hard shell of his mask against the crown of your head. “You’re going to be the death of me, kid,” Ghost sighs.

He sounds...exasperated. Perhaps, you had, admittedly, fucked up. You shouldn’t have done it. You should have listened to him. Escape had been narrow and made even more narrow by you wasting precious seconds to grab the intel. Even if Ghost had the countenance of a bull shark, he cared more than most. He was staunchly loyal. He wouldn’t lose people under his watch.

But you aren’t just people.

Fuck buddy? Sure.

More than that?

You weren’t entirely oblivious to how he touched you outside their secret trysts. His gaze lingered, his presence curled around you like an oversized shadow.

What had he said yesterday morning?

“Stay alive,” he husked as his palm enveloped the top of your skull, those sleepy, ink-filled eyes searching yours. His thumb traced your cheek as you rested the side of your face against his thigh. The salt of him coated your throat, the nape of your neck still tingled from his iron grip when he finished in your mouth. “Please.”

Gingerly, you tug an arm free to grasp the hand silencing you. You pull it away, and Ghost, Simon, allows it. Shooting him a desperate, aching glance over your shoulder, you press your lips to his fingertips. “I’m sorry,” you repeat. “I’ll stay alive for you.”

You give his words back, hoping it’s enough.

See? I was listening. I was listening as you throat-fucked me.

Pleased, he murmurs your name as he presses closer before you force two of his fingers into your mouth and suck. He goes rigid, and the other set of fingers inside you become still as if he’s trying to assess this startling development and figure out the next strategy. It is only a moment, a few seconds, and then he draws away from your cunt to grasp the underside of your thigh. He eases it up before shifting his hips forward, and there he is: his thick, unforgiving length crudely gliding through your folds. The pleasure comes in bursts. Tiny pricks. Stars. Each time the head of his cock grazes your clit, it sends sparks unfurling in your belly. You shove your ass back into him, demanding and needy.

You started this, you want to say when you know he’d turn it around with: You did when you didn’t fucking listen.

His hand returns to your hip, his thumb rubbing small, tight circles into the flesh. “Desperate, are we?” His voice is rough - all gravel and artillery smoke and so low it sweeps like a tongue against the seam of your pussy. “I thought you were scared the others would see us?”

You release his fingers with a slick pop, and he, once again, wraps his forearm around your chest in order to anchor you to him. You can just imagine the scene the team would walk in on.

Ghost, fully clothed, with his tattooed arm snug around your tits. You’re in a flimsy tank top with your sweats tangled around your knees. His mask-covered face is notched over your shoulder. To anyone, he’d look untouched while you were ruined. Bare thighs glistening with your own arousal. Humiliating.

“Do you care?”

He chuckles, and it vibrates against your back. “Kid,” he husks. “I wouldn’t give a shit if they all came in and watched.”

You shiver, involuntarily clenching around nothing. “Right,” you croak as you feel his hips draw back again, the fingers holding your thigh in the air, are digging into your skin. Blunt nails. Dirt. “Because...because then they’d know I’m yours.”

That must do something to him because he sucks in a breath and suddenly, without hesitation, slides into you until his groin is nestled against your ass. You black-out. Your vision swims and blurs until you can’t distinguish between the dark fireplace and the shitty armchairs. His cock is too big. That’s a stone-cold fact. The first time he’d fucked you had been more than a challenge. He’d prepared you with his tongue, fingers, spit and lube you filched from Soap, but it had still been difficult.

He’s breathing steadily as his heart thumps against your back. His hand falls to your stomach, where he can, undoubtedly, feel the head of his cock nudging one of your internal organs. You feel full - crammed to the brim and feverish. Sweat collects at your hairline as you endure the pressure of him inside you. The girth. The weight. Every time Ghost fucks you, it’s a lesson in endurance. He can go for hours, and you take it like his well-trained soldier. The two of you are an HR nightmare.

You squeak when Ghost presses his balaclava-covered mouth to your neck. “Good girl,” he soothes, clucking his tongue. “Good girl...just take it like you are. Fuckin’ perfect.”

Well-endowed fuck.

It’s only painful in a good way. Your body accommodates him, allowing him to squeeze an inch deeper as his hand slides down from your belly to your clit. He presses it gently before drawing circles. He retreats, his cock dragging through your walls until he’s halfway out before he plunges back in. The pace is unhurried. He’s grinding into you as if he’s savoring every part of your pussy. He cups your tits, grasps your throat, and explores the sensitive flesh stretched around his enormous shaft.

You’re never having anal.

Unless he asked really nicely.

“I want to mark you,” he muses through long, deliberate strokes. “If I come in that lovely cunt, you’d keep me in there, yeah?”

“Of course,” you reply immediately, even though you sound like you’ve been drowned and spit back onto the beach. You’re so sick with him, overwhelmed and a little in love and how did this fucking happen? “Anything you want, Luitenant.”

He delivers a sharper thrust that nearly propels you off the couch, but his grasp on your waist is unforgivable. His strength. His presence. He smells like sweat and packed dirt and a forest fire. “You’re bloody obedient when I’ve got my cock in you.”

Obviously.

“I know,” you murmur as you bite your lip again when he strikes something tender. He’s rubbing your clit in time with every snap of his hips, dick pistoning inside you as your lower muscles buckle, your thighs quivering as your pleasure hangs precariously over a steep drop. His legs wedge yours open, keeping your cunt spread as he manipulates your body like one of his precious guns. If I move this, what will this do? Let me make it better.

“I’m so - so fucking easy,” you slur.

“No,” he grits as his pelvis begins to stutter against your ass, his breathing ragged. “No, you’re the most difficult thing I’ve ever had beneath me - ever - ever had to fuckin’ handle.”

God - that has double meanings. You’re his subordinate. You’re his lover. You’re on your knees for him, but it goes both ways. It had been Ghost who had turned the lights off the first time and removed his mask. He’d trusted you enough to shut your eyes and let him lick your pussy until you were in tears.

I wouldn’t look, Riley. That’s something I won’t take unless you give it.

You had felt his face, though. In the pitch blank, you had touched his full lips, the defined lines of his cheekbones. You’d felt his thick, silky hair and the bumps of various scars.

You feel sexy.

You’re trying to butter me up.

The sounds from the kitchen startle you. The men are taunting each other. A pan clatters. The volume turns up, and you suddenly realize that you and Ghost are making quite a bit of noise. The couch is creaking. Your cunt indecently squelches with every spear of his cock. He’s grunting into your hair, the skin at his groin smacking the full flesh of your ass as he bottoms out.

“They’re going to hear us,” you warn. You’re on the cusp of exploding, breaking into fragments.

“They probably already do,” he quips before fucking you harder. Your hand flies up to clutch at his burly forearm, your other hand rises higher to grasp the back of his head. You want his hair, you want to fist it and hurt him just a little. “Easy, love,” he urges. “Relax...relax...you’re getting too tense.”

He’s right. Your orgasm has fluttered away because now you’re fully aware that your teammates have probably created a racket to drown out their Lieutenant, their stiff, cold enigma of a Lieutenant, railing their comrade into the couch.

“Focus, kid,” he orders bluntly as if he was chastising you on a mission. He ducks his head and nuzzles your cheek to coax you back into his fold. “They won’t come in,” he drawls in a low, piercing rumble. “They won’t say a goddamn word because they know I’d murder every one of them if they tried ripping me away from this cunt.”

Holy. Fuck.

Everything has climbed up your throat. Your head is on backward. The pressure of his cock, his fingers on your clit, and his massive body wrapped around your own is causing the air to crackle.

“Simon,�� you gasp as he readjusts his grip and forces you forward. He shifts his hips so he’s thrusting down, and it’s impossible to know when he’ll be done. He rides your ass until his pace falters and his cock twitches and throbs before he abruptly settles, douses out the fire, and continues at a more even, lazy rhythm.

“I need you to come for me, darling,” he encourages softly. It’s dipped in a tenderness that surprises you. His voice remains deep and gruff, but there’s a gentleness behind it. You’ve never seen his face, and the intimacy with which he handles you is nothing you have ever experienced. It is too much.

Ghost gives you his history in patches. There are brief moments where finishes and rolls off you, and you both just stare at the ceiling, fingers brushing in the dark. “There’s this pub by the Irwell that I think you’d fancy,” he remarks. “Jesus knows if it’s still around, but I reckon you’d like it.”

It’s not just sex. This is not just sex at all.

Stay alive.

Please.

You know it’s not about bloody fuckin’ orders.

Simon is coaxing you into your climax. He’s buried so deep that you can feel the tip of him nudge against your womb. You feel swollen and raw, and his muscles twitch against you. You’re throbbing like an open wound as he maneuvers your ragdoll body on his cock. It should be overwhelming, but his fearsome rough voice is full of yearning when he motivates you to find your pleasure.

The tang of your climax builds until there’s nowhere else for it to go. It roars forward, jolting through your limbs as it forces you to curl into a fetal position, but Simon is right there. He holds you in place, his mask grazing your cheek. “C’mon, love,” he says. “That’s it. Good girl.”

As his palm clamps over your mouth, you erupt, and you bathe his cock in your climax. Hot and flooded as the punch of a tropical storm. “Bite me,” Ghost demands, instinctively thrusting into your soaked, fluttering heat. “Do what you need, love. Take it out on me.”

He groans when your teeth nip his palm. You bite harder, and he nearly chokes.

You don’t understand how this has gone from him enraged to riding you to a full gallop to allowing you to use him for your own pleasure. As he fucks you through it, jamming into the searing, wet clutch of your spasming sex, he hits his end. His hands on you tighten as he makes a deep, grating noise from his chest, filling you up. It’s warm and somewhat soothing. Shuddering, Ghost has to brace his arm on the couch to keep himself from collapsing on top of you.

“Fucking hell,” he mutters as he buries his face into your neck. “Jesus.”

He slips out, and there is only emptiness. You’re aching and sore, and he pets at your cunt, pressing his come deeper so it doesn’t drip. You shift onto your side to face him, his hand still nestled against your pussy, his eyes black and heavy-lidded as they regard you with subtle affection.

“Keep me in there,” he reminds you.

Hesitantly, you snag the edge of his black ski mask and slowly lift it. He stops breathing, his heart beginning to thump wildly as his gaze widens. However, he doesn’t stop you, and it’s a test you predicted.

“Red,” he warns. Your call sign. The bite of his authority rippling between you.

You hitch the mask just a centimeter above his top lip. You sit up awkwardly, your sweats still knotted around your knees, your lower half gone to jello. You grasp his stubbled jaw and kiss him tenderly. He stiffens, making a startled noise in the back of his throat before he decidedly returns it, licking into the cavern of your mouth as he forces you onto your back and wedges himself between your legs. The pointed edge of his skull mask digs into the top of your cheek, but you’re past caring. You can feel his cock filling against the crease of your thigh.

Again? You can’t go again. You’d surely split in half.

“Don’t worry,” he says as if he can read your mind. “I just want this.”

Just this. The couch, the safe house, and their teammates only a room away.

He breathes against your mouth, the sliver of his secret skin scratching your own. You nudge your thumb along a scar and kiss him harder.

#simon ghost riley x you #cod mw fanfiction #cod mw22 #simon ghost riley fanfiction #simon ghost riley x female reader #simon ghost riley imagine #call of duty #call of duty modern warfare #simon ghost riley #cod mwii #simon ghost riley x reader #modern warefare 2

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eliysian · 5 months

Text

LOVE THIS SM. rooting for simon xx

it's finally here, the final installment of the tattoo-artist!series. for waiting so patiently, it's a long one lol.

you're currently sandwiched between two men, covered head to toe in ink that makes you wonder if there's any place left unmarked. which simon is very pleased to be able to show you, have you feel him and where exactly he is and isn't. but könig is handsy. with you. runs his palms all over your marked skin, lightly tracing the work that he did as a territorial reminder that that's his. and it's an ongoing war between tattoo-artist!simon and tattoo-artist!könig on who gets to claim your pretty body once and for all.

let me first set the scene. it'd started when simon made you promise that he was the only one you talked to. edged you on the ruined chair until you were so braindead that all you could do is say yes. you were drunk on the feeling of his cock going in and out. would cry when he pulled out all the way when you wouldn't answer him, too busy moaning and whining and biting the headrest to give him the words he'd so badly wanted to hear. and when you finally uttered those words? it's like you were taken over from the feeling of not being able to stop cumming and cumming until there was a puddle on the chair and you could see it drip down to the floor. simon had made you lick it up afterwards, telling you if you make a mess then you better clean it. rewarded you by kissing you sloppily and clearing any traces of the sticky cum with his tongue roaming all over your mouth.

all this and it still didn't stop könig from texting you all the time. would still send those voice memos after you'd uploaded a picture. and one where you were at a party and showing off your tattoos. könig had seen the way the one he did on you was clear as day even in the dim lighting. could also see your nipples poking through that thin top of yours, something small and light to keep the heat off of you as you danced and drank. left little for him to imagine about when his most recent voice memo was raspy and had him sounding breathless. could swear that you could hear the slick sounds of the way his hand was rapidly moving up and down his cock. he was leaking so badly down it, you'd think he already came. and maybe he did, to a couple other pictures of yours. wishing those pretty lips were wrapped around him, sees how you stuck out your tongue in a picture and envisions himself tapping the head all over it and making you taste him.

somehow könig had managed to sneak you into his parlour after seeing you out again. how he'd known where you were going to be after seeing you post on your story. went right over there and pretended he bumped into you, and managed to lead you to his place under the guise of" let me show you some new designs. i can stencil one on you so i can see how it looks, maybe even ink it on you if it looks as good as i imagine." and that's how you manage to lie on your stomach while könig is stenciling something just under your breast. he takes a picture for you and encourages you to post it on your story. you actually like it a lot, so you end up agreeing. what you didn't realize that it was könig's way of marking you back.

that the stenciling on your side was "prinzessin" with some extra designs around it. if you'd look a little more closely, some of the details matched the ones on his sleeve. he did want to use königin, but he thought that was a little too on the nose. regardless that he saw you as his queen ;) oh and the way he had put the stencil on you? he had rested his right hand just barely against your breast, and when he pressed the stencil into your skin to smooth out the wrinkles, his fingers lightly grazed it. you could feel your nipples perking up at that.

somehow he's got you in his lap as you're sitting up and looking at a nearby mirror he'd placed next to his chair. he rests behind you as his hands roam across your skin, suggesting different places he could mark you up. you wonder what he means when he presses a hand flat against your lower stomach and says he could mark there too. makes you wonder what kind of tattoo he'd be planning if he wants to do one on your tummy. makes you wonder what the dark glint in his eye means when you ask that.

"fuck is this?" comes simon's voice in the doorway. the shop was supposed to be closed, for holiday that könig said. he'd taken you there in his on an off day so it was just the two of you. but it looks like he forgot to lock the door.

"we're closed," könig says back, resting his head over yours and dragging his hand on your stomach to the opposite side so now you're pressed against him. simon ignores könig and narrows his eyes at you. makes you shiver in könig's grip, but you wonder if instead it's from the way könig warningly growls when simon approaches.

"what'd i say, princess?" simon stalks forward, footfalls heavy as he nears you.

"you know that answer to that. right, maus?" könig answers quickly. simon still keeps his gaze on you. you're terrified that a fight is going to break out. but könig keeps a hand on your jaw so you can't turn away. makes you face simon and say it.

"that i go to only you." he hums, crossing his arms while standing over you.

"and where are you now?"

"here." simon lets out a discontent growl as he barely tilts his head to look down at you. könig lets out a taunting laugh, further digging your grave.

"be more specific, maus. let him know."

"... in könig's lap." simon zeroes in on the way könig's hands are still wrapped around you. under your shirt where it's fallen over them and bunched over his knuckles.

"he marked you." there's a possessive sneer simon wears as he finally looks to könig's face. who, in return, meets him with a challenging smile. oh, so he wanted simon to come here. so he could rub it in his face just where he has you. in between his thick thighs and pressed so firmly against you that you don't even realize he's been pressing his erection into your asscheeks the whole time.

completely forgetting about the stencil just under your right tit, you place you hand over könig's. "we were only talking about one! right here, he said he could give me one here."

könig laughs out at that, which makes simon's blood boil even more. "already marked you there, love." his tone reminds you just how he spoke to you when telling you how much he was going to cum in you. remind you who gets to be the one to mark you up. oh. so that's what könig meant.

"let me do a touch up then," könig bites back immediately. you jump in his lap as he presses down on your tummy again. now you're more consciously aware of his erection since you shift against him. but also by the way he groans behind you and squeezes your waist.

"hands off," simon warns.

"m'good at doing touch ups. can give her something bigger to cover over it. something better." he grits out while subtly grinding against your ass. it makes you breathless as you realize the sheer size of him with every tiny drag against you.

you're not too sure what happened next, but that's led you to be sandwiched where you were at the beginning. something had surged competitively in both of them, and now you had two dicks grinding on you. the friction of it was delicious and their body heat was making your head go fuzzy.

they kept asking you "you feel that, maus? feel how big i am? how much bigger am i?" and "you remember the shape of me, yeah? don't matter how big it is, matters if you can use it. and you know i can. right, pretty thing?" frankly you don't have a clue how to respond besides whimpering against them as you feel yourself growing wetter and wetter.

könig positions you in his lap so now his bulge comes to rest right at your slit. proof of how far he'd be able to reach you through your thighs. it blocks off simon from being able to grind his length from your hole to your clit and makes him growl. doesn't help when könig reaches his hands higher up under your shirt to fondle at your tits and pinch your nipples. makes sure that the shirt rides up high enough to see the stencil markings he left on you. simon's eyes narrow at that as well. not wanting to take two losses, he sucks another mark just under your ear.

"get up for me, love. gotta get inside you." simon finally detaches from you being smushed against könig's chest, where he'd been muttering all the dirty things he'd been wanting to do to you while simon nipped at your neck. they didn't even bother with the fact that they were both fighting over you in a tattoo shop and so pent up that they wanted to fuck you. you know how big simon is, but having to feel the intimidating size of könig. it makes your stomach do flips as simon takes off your pants. and moves to slip off his.

taking advantage of this, könig flips you over quickly so now you straddle him. now you're sitting directly onto his clothed dick while your ass is presented to simon. könig looks smug as he grips your ass in his large hands, kneading it so roughly as his fingers dig under your panties. like if he were taunting simon with what he'd be forced to take. because there'd be no way with the size of both of them that you could fit both of them in one hole.

"fuckin' prick," simon grumbles under his breath as könig slips his dick out and lets it spring up against you, showing you just how deep he's going to be hitting you. knocks your breath away at just the sight of it. you whimper at the way it twitches, makes you clench around nothing as you think about squeezing down on it.

könig can't help but smirk at your reaction. "i felt that, maus. can feel the way your pussy wants me."

"was supposed to be mine," simon grumbles as he smacks your ass while könig grins and brings his hand beneath your shirt, traveling between your breasts, and then poking out of the collar to choke you.

"i said i was going to give her a little touch up, no?"

"just know i got her first."

"and you won't be her last. bet you won't be able to last long enough either," könig says as he squeezes lightly at your throat. simon doesn't say anything, and you can only picture the look on his face as he reaches around and pulls your panties up. it goes taut against your pussy, outlining clearly the lips and collecting the slick so nicely. you squirm at the discomfort of the way your own juices press back into you, but simon starts rubbing his fingers over your clit that's more accessible thanks to the way he pulls the waistband of your underwear higher.

"simon!" you call out as he presses down roughly. he scoffs and gives your ass another spank.

"look at you, good girl. know who's name to call out, hm?"

könig, not one to be outdone, decides that he's had enough and just rips the panties clean off of you. it makes you squeal at his brute strength but especially at how he starts to finger you so he can stretch you out for him. you're thankful that he has the decency to prepare you at least while simon grinds against your ass and fondles your tits. the way he squeezes them together causes them to trap könig's wrist between them as he keeps his hand there and not yet squeezing. a gentle reminder of him and his size and the power he has over you currently.

after you've been decently stretched by könig's thick fingers, you can feel him shift you upwards so he can drop you down onto his cock. you can feel the tip prodding you open and just when you're about to be stretched full, simon sticks his fingers in your mouth. it muffles your moans all the way down as you keep sinking onto könig. könig groans both in frustration at the moan but also for finally being able to lodge himself deep into your pussy.

the feeling is euphoric. he was definitely right when he was bragging about being bigger. and the way you were clenching down on him? it made his dick twitch inside of you to keep stretching you as it had nowhere else to go but spread open you even more. felt like you were being split in half. couldn't even scream with the way simon's fingers were so far in your mouth as he played with your tongue, making you lick at his digits and taste him. you were very sure you were drooling all over him into his palm.

which was perfect as he took his fingers out of you, leaving spit strings down your chin as he brought his hand back to lube up his cock. könig surged forward to lick at your chin and all over your mouth as you panted from the way he was grinding into you to get you more used to the feeling of his cock.

"how's it feel, maus?"

"biiig," you whine. könig snickers and chokes you a little just so he can feel you clench down at him again. it makes you buck your hips involuntarily and has könig grunting against you. he grabs your thighs and pinches it, urging you to start moving. you give him tiny little thrusts since you feel your legs quiver.

"aw, little maus," könig coos at you and draws you forward by your throat so he can kiss you again and stick his tongue against yours. "already can't take it, hm?" he pinches your thigh again and it has you jumping up and then immediately falling back down onto him. you are able to will yourself into a steady rythym of riding his cock to feel how much it drags against your walls.

"ain't feel nothing yet, love. let me fill you to the brim," simon growls behind you as he times it so when you sink back on könig that you'd also impale yourself on simon's cock on the way down. you hadn't been prepped to take him into your ass, so the stretch is a lot and it has your legs locking around könig's hips as you cry out from the uncomfortable stretch. simon's hands at your hips give a reassuring squeeze.

he lets you adjust and does a similar thing to könig by stirring his cock inside of you. but he pulls you back against him so that his hips grind against your ass, watching the way it squishes flush against his hips. he continues to press against you until you stop gripping so tightly onto könig's arms and your nails aren't cutting into his skin.

"good, maus?" könig asks while moving his hand from your throat to cup your face. it tugs your shirt in a weird way, but you're able to nod anyways.

"you ready to take it, baby?" simon asks while giving you a little thrust to test you.

"mmh, yes, simon!" you say so sweetly. he grins since he's still the one you're calling out to so obediently. he rewards you by calling you a good girl before starting off with a rough pace.

the way he fucks your ass so deeply has you bracing against könig's chest to keep yourself upright. the way you're throttled from simon's dick propels you up and down onto könig's. it makes you have to feel the way both of them slide in and out of you. making you feel so full from the both of them and empty when they pull out. the empty feeling is short lived as it feels like no matter how high your hips rise that their dicks never leave your holes. you can feel the way you're drenched in könig's lap. and with every clap of your thighs against his how it splashes all over you and makes a mess. it's filthy. but you love it.

can't get enough of the way their cocks simultaneously drag against your walls, almost like they're rubbing against each other through the thin wall that separates them. because even like how they were fighting for dominance before, their dicks do the same inside of you as they press against each other and fight for room inside of you. you're fairly certain that your tongue has lolled out as you can feel them hitting so deep. in spots nobody has or ever will reach after them.

"good fuckin' girl. look at you, takin' our cocks like a champ," simon blurts out as his dick thrusts in your ass so quickly.

"so good for us, maus. your pussy's squeezing me so much. mmm, just how i pictured it'd feel," könig says in that same breathless tone as his voice notes to you. you don't think you can last much longer when könig starts thrusting as well, bucking upwards so you're at the mercy of both men as they take their turns abusing your poor holes.

it's not long before you're cumming hard around könig, who grunts and chases his own orgasm while you're milking him. it makes your toes clench at the way the cockhead knocks against your cervix so easily. he keeps going before spilling deep inside of you, holding you down tightly so you just have to sit there and take it all.

simon's not that far away, but he still continues to plow your ass like he's a man possessed. keeps going and jostling you, has you whining from the oversensitivity. somehow he still doesn't let up and pulls you off könig's dick and further down on the chair so you're truly face down, ass up. what a familiar sight, as if he wasn't just taking you like this and claiming you as his while making you promise not to go to könig anymore. the only difference is that your face is being pressed into könig's stomach as you grip his hips for dear life as simon pounds into your ass ferally.

the angle you're draped over könig as trapped his dick under your shirt, and he plays with your tits enough to position them so that way he can squeeze his cock again with them. he begins to overstimulate himself as he uses your tits as a toy for his dick and moving them up and down, rubbing his cock between them and getting it all messy with his cum from before.

when simon spanks you more frequently, taking less breaks in between each spank, you know that he's finally getting close. is going to finally give you the reprieve you need. the way his thrusts get quicker and shorter, so he's practically stuck inside of you, makes you whine out so he can just cum already! you're pretty sure könig's made himself cum a second time from your tits as you see a stain pooling from your shirt where it's bunched up from his bulge.

simon eventually lets out a deep growl and plunges into you so hard, you're pressed into könig again and brace against the arms of the tattoo chair while you pant. his balls stop slapping your spent pussy as they twitch against it, his cum draining into you while he catches his breath. he slowly pulls out and watches it drip messily down your ass and between your puffy pussy. he grins at the sight and rubs your sore cheeks soothingly.

"see? fuckin' knew i could last longer than you," simon grunts out.

#ghost #könig #könig smut #ghost smut #ghost x reader #könig x reader #im going insane #feral #clawing at the bars of my enclosure #need them both #theyre so fine #im delusional

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eliysian · 5 months

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tension w/ leon?? tension w/ leon.

SO SORRY FOR DISAPPEARING!! i'm back with a leon blurb <3

pairing: re4!leon kennedy x gn!reader

It's been mere minutes since Chris got out of the car to finish his mission, leaving you and Leon alone. It was silent, but the tension was apparent in the air. You both could feel it.

Your fingers pulled at the seams of your coat, in an attempt to get yourself to calm down. You weren't usually nervous around him, but after your guys' last encounter, it's been hard not to be nervous.

You let out a shaky exhale against his lips, your head tilted up with your eyes glued to his. His sapphire-like eyes ran down your face, sticking to your lips. He steps further into you, one leg going between yours as you lean back against the wall.

He swipes one of your stray hairs behind your ear, his tongue swiping out to lick his bottom lip. You struggle to break the gaze. Your hand rested on his bicep as he wrapped his forearm around your waist, pulling you into him.

Your bodies were flush against eachother as he finally speaks up, "Can I?" He whispers. Your lips part on an inhale and you nod. He dips down, lips so close to brushing yours, right before the door busts open. Luis, already rambling, glances at you both and freezes. "Aye, yai, yai," Luis sighs.

You clear your throat and quickly exit the room with a pit in your stomach.

You scrolled on your phone, heart pounding as your thoughts blanked, you couldn't even find an app to open. Your thoughts came back to life as the music in the car started playing. You looked up, eyes locking to Leon's hand.

To be fair, you meant to look at the stereo, but your eyes found their way to the veins that popped in his hands. How they were so apparent under the moonlight from your angle. You looked back at your phone.

You opened your messages, hoping that someone, anyone really, would text you right now. You could feel him glancing at you from where he sat. The cold air filtered through the barely open window beside you, giving you goosebumps. You heard him let out a 'tsk' at all the songs playing on the various radio stations.

He just shuts it off before delivering his gaze to you again. He nudges your shoulder, "Why so silent today?" You feel that same spot on your shoulder tingle as you set your phone down. "Sorry," You mutter, glancing up at him and locking eyes. It made your stomach flip in itself, "Just been thinking."

"About what? Something bothering you?" Yeah, the fact we almost fucked just a few days ago. He talks like he completely forgot about what happened between you. "No," You responded simply.

He just nodded and you looked back to your phone, but his gaze didn't leave you for a few moments, his eyes taking in your appearance. The silence just sat in the air. He looked away and let out a strained sigh, "Uh," He started. "Sorry for, you know—" He gestured his hands in the air, "—The other day."

You froze up a bit, keeping your eyes on your phone as your face heated up. "Yeah, it's okay." You muttered, biting your lip.

Leon stared at you again, letting out a huff. "Hey," he spoke, his voice low. You struggled to look up "Hey." He repeated, slightly louder this time.

You didn't look up at him or respond, your words catching in your throat. The way your face burned made you wanna die, and the throb in your core pained you as you squeezed your thighs together.

Before you could calm yourself, your chin was being held and pulled, making you face him. "Look at me when I talk to you, yeah?" He said and you just nodded, like soft clay in his hands. He could mold you to whatever, say whatever, and you'd do it in a heartbeat.

You both fell silent as you sat in this position, him in the driver seat leaning over the console, you in the passenger seat with an aching in your gut that begs to be fixed. His eyes slide to your lips again, just like how they had before.

His thumb runs across your bottom lip and you let out a deep breath that you didn't know you were holding. "I'm not a fan of doing it in cars," Leon whispered, "But I'd be a fucking fool to pass up on this."

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eliysian · 6 months

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loving these lil' wholesome (kinda) stories

Dying is not an option (when you're by my side)

Leon S. Kennedy x Gn!reader

1k words. Also on a03

Soft fingers caress his lips, keep his body warm, his belly full and his back massaged.

“I’ll always have a home,” Leon finally manages to get out, a complete sentence, voice without hesitation.

He closes his eyes, kisses the skin of your shoulder.

Hell, he is trying.

When his mind seems to get too clouded by the visions of monsters, you pull him out of the depths of his trauma. He does his best to love you. He tries.

Or the fic in which you make Leon repeat comforting phrases so it finally gets in his head that he is loved.

Just a very soft idea that wouldn't leave my head and that's been too long in the wip folder. The warnings make it seem worse than it is, but happy ending I promise!!! Had re4r in mind for this one but can be read with other older versions of him. (Though the older the Leon, the angstier it gets lmao)

Content: No use of y/n, very very soft love, hurt/comfort, some angst, established relationship, living together, sitting on his lap, a tiny bit of possessive Leon (yay!)

Warnings: +18 ONLY. No smut but some suggestive lines. Mentions of blood, suicide, guns and overall (some brief) gore. Leon's mental struggles (depression, anxiety). I'm not a native English speaker but I (lazily) proofread and edited this one.

You lean forward, just a little closer to his body. Leon groans, his face unreadable still.

“Don’t want to,” he muses, kind of annoyed at your proposal.

“Just trust me.”

He reluctantly nods, as you get comfortable on his lap. His firm thighs under you, the warmest and comfiest seat you could ever ask for.

You worry about him, worry so much.

You know now: know what he does, what he works as. At first it was hard to believe it, the stories about human turned monsters, about creatures that linger between heaven and hell. But you had to believe him, you were forced to the first time Leon crumbled down in your arms, sobbing the entirety of the night, the immensity of his body reduced to shivering and tears.

“I love you,” you had told him that time. “I’m not letting you go. I’m here. I’ll always be here.”

You whisper the same things again now, your voice reverberating close to his ear. Leon eases the grip on your hips, replaces it with a soft touch. He tries to calm down, closes his eyes for a moment too long.

“You love me,” he seems to ask, as if trying to convince himself of it, as if trying to find himself worthy of such a feeling from someone like you.

“I do,” you confirm, cupping his cheeks.

He nods, though his heart is thumping in his chest still. Your hands move to his shoulders, then to his arms, caressing the skin with soft strokes.

“I love you… Look at me.”

He obliges, eyes like the ocean, marked by the heavy and dark eyebags.

It breaks your heart to see him like this. Your lip trembles as you lean closer, shortening the distance.

It is entirely possible —as you’re so much aware of— that one day you’ll come home to an unlocked gun and his body in the bathtub. Or maybe it would be the rifle, the carpet stained with blood and pieces of what used to be his jaw.

A jaw that you love so much, that you kiss now.

Leon sighs, seems content with such affection, his hands getting lost down your thighs.

“Listen to me. You’re gonna repeat as I say, okay?” an attempt to get him out of his head, to remind him of who he is.

“ …‘Kay,” he mumbles, seemingly distracted.

“I’m… good.”

He scrunches his nose, pinkish lips downturned. Naturally, he doesn’t dare to say those words. He doesn’t want to trick his brain.

“C’mon,” you egg him, patting his shoulder gently.

The action seems to at least make his lips curve slightly.

“I’m good,” he whispers, his voice insecure.

He tries. You can see how hard he does it: coming home as much possible, the dirty laundry now clean and with a soft cinnamon scent. A sunflower in the kitchen vase next to the window, the coffee mug always clean even when you leave it in the sink, ready to be washed in the morning.

“I’m a good partner,” you resume, reminiscing.

That does stops him in his tracks, a gentle blush rooting on his cheeks, the smile more pronounced now. Leon presses his face against your neck.

“… Do I really have to say it?”

“Yep.”

He breathes on your neck, as if trying to take in a bit of your kindness, a bit of your peace. He closes his eyes, tries to control his breathing. But his hands grip your hips harder.

He fucking loves you.

Leon is not sure he deserves this yet, the warm body on the bed, the pretty smile that kisses him goodbye, lets him go away even in the middle of the night.

“I love you,” he backtracks, pressing a kiss on your neck.

You chuckle, and allow him that admission.

“Very cute but that’s not what you had to repeat.”

Leon raises his eyebrows, feigning annoyance. He keeps his fingers on your hips, dancing on your skin, drawing patterns as he keeps you close. He wishes he could sign his name there, mark you forever so you’d never get too far away from him… So he’d always have a right to come back to you.

“But I love you…” he pouts.

You grab his face with utmost care, force his cheeks to look upwards at your face.

“I love you too. Lots.”

You kiss his forehead. His body melts under that touch.

“ ‘m a good partner” he mumbles, quickly.

“My baby loves me.”

Now Leon chuckles.

“My baby loves me,” he hides again on your neck, his smile etched constantly on his face now. You hug him closer, kiss his forehead once more, as if sheltering a lost angel in your arms.

“I’ll always have a home.”

Oh, that one seems to break him a little. Leon immediately whines, his hands gripping your body with ferocity against his. He can’t say… He shouldn’t. He… he can’t and…

His heart starts beating faster and he gulps.

“You can do it…” you encourage him and he wants to try. He knows, deep inside, that is true and that he is now safe. It takes him several minutes until his anxiety dissipates and he can look up at you, your eyes encapsulating warmth that he had never experienced with anyone else.

Soft fingers caress his lips, keep his body warm, his belly full and his back massaged.

“I’ll always have a home,” Leon finally manages to get out, a complete sentence, voice without hesitation.

He closes his eyes, kisses the skin of your shoulder.

Hell, he is trying. It is seen not only in how much he makes time for you, but also in the way he follows along with your little silly ideas, suggestions to try to build himself up again.

And though he wouldn’t directly admit it, since you two are together he has promised himself to fight his hardest in every mission. He spits his own blood, wipes off the exhaustion from his face and keeps pushing forward. Because, he’ll be damned, he wants to see you once more. And once more. And again and again… And when he comes home, to you, Leon immediately checks —for the tenth time— the safety on each gun and leaves them in locked boxes, his fingers slowly forgetting what it’s like to toy with weapons in the sanctuary that you’ve built for the two of you. The cold of the metal is now replaced by the warmth between your thighs, the flesh on your hips, the softness of your hands.

Hell, he is definitely trying.

And it’s fucking working.

God to be on his lap honestly!!! A dream. And if you've made it to the end, thank you!! Mwah, sweet soul 💙

#leon kennedy x reader #x reader #leon s. kennedy x reader #leon kennedy angst #leon kennedy hurt/comfort #leon kennedy fluff #leon s. kennedy x you #writer bee #leon kennedy x you #mdni divider by #gn!reader

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eliysian · 6 months

Text

my fav writer fr

Size Difference

Joel Miller x AFAB reader

Too bored and tired to wash your own clothes, you rather steal one of Joel's shirts. If only you knew what that would lead to.

Warnings/content: AFAB reader, 2nd person (you, yours), post apocalyptic bullshit stuff, fingering, slight nipple play, dirty talk, you know he's mean but you love him, this is barely proof read please forgive me I am so eepy

Word count: 3.2 K (I KNOW I GOT INVESTED THAT'S MY BAD)

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Laundry in Jackson was something that made you want to curl up and die. Sure, it was a part of your day to day domestic life, and you couldn’t be happier nor luckier to have a place to settle down. In the midst of all this pain and fear you found yourself sitting rather comfortably in a well structured house with access to food and fresh water. Some people would quite literally kill for the life you lived.

And yet you could not dig up even the tiniest bit of motivation to get that stupid basket out of the house. Every other chore in the house could be breezed by in a few minutes, but leaving your home to go down to the community laundromat just wasn’t it for you. So you said screw it. Why waste the energy when you could be doing literally anything else? Skipping over the hard part, you opted for stealing one of the older t-shirts from Joel’s dresser. No harm, no fowl.

Or so you thought.

Finally tackling the stack of dishes that’d been staring you down for the past two days, you couldn’t be bothered to put on anything other than underwear under the rather large shirt. The sound of Joel making his usual return back home was signalled by the sound of the door swinging open and shut. You couldn’t fight back the smile that graced your lips at the noise, like a mental connection made between the creaking wood and the man you loved. It meant he came back safe from patrol.

And god, the surprise you gave him as he walked past the kitchen to unpack his gear.

He had to do a double take, three steps backwards to look into the kitchen with focused eyes. He was watching you like a hawk, analysing your every move, your every footfall and the sway of your hips when you hum. No matter how innocent your actions were, Joel mentally cursed both you and himself for getting hard at the mere sight of you doing the dishes.

Dumping his bag at the doorway, he was quick to come up behind you. Rough hands grazing over the tender skin of your hips, his beard and stubble scratched against the side of your face when he mumbled into your neck.

“Think you picked up the wrong shirt there, darlin’.”

Smoky and rasped were the two words you’d use to describe Joel’s voice. Be that from his age or how tired he was, his Texan accent made you so quickly weak in the knees. It was almost pathetic how fast you could cave for him.

It’s so close to domestic but still bordering on greedy and selfish, the pads of his rough fingers gliding up your stomach so slowly. Because when there’s free time to waste, it’s spent on you.

And time spent on you is never a waste. Not in Joel’s mind.

“Was too lazy to do the washing. Figured I’d just steal one of yours. Why? Does it look bad?”

That hopeful glint in your eye, the way you sought out his affection like a puppy made his chest ache. You’d give him a heart attack one of these days, your sweetness eating away at the hard shell he’d built around his heart. You were decaying him in the best ways possible. In the midst of hell on Earth you were the diamond in the rough. He’d dig through dirt and stone, scrape hands against harsh cement and wall if it meant he could hold you in his arms.

“Quite the opposite.”

Cotton was something he often took for granted. The privilege of feeling such smooth fabric wrapped around your soft body, how it brushes over the hair on his arms when he runs his hands up your stomach and back. You looked good in this. The sight of you draped in the fabric he usually tossed aside for more favourable shirts was enough to make his cock twitch in his jeans.

“I could get used to this sight.” It was low and timbre, the crisp crackle of a campfire in the middle of a dense and dark forest, something that made your heart flutter and body melt.

You had to fight back your smile at his words, nudging your body gently against his. It was your job to keep him on his toes, after all. Or at least that’s what you said to him whenever he complained. “That’s cause you’re a dirty old man.”

That earned a scoff out of him, followed by his own gentle head nudge to your cheek. “Watch it, you.”

It was sweet. Having him to yourself like this was a privilege and you were fine with that fact. Tying down Jackson’s sourest man and squeezing him sweet. He still had that zest to him though, a bitter tang that you loved.

And you loved teasing him, too. Leaning into his touch and most definitely not arching your back on purpose so you were pulled closer to him. Just a little harmless move, and in your opinion he deserved it. And besides it wasn’t like he was going to notice. You made sure to be subtle, make it look as if you were simply stretching out of tiredness or ache from the day’s work around the house. You were smooth about it.

“Callin’ me the dirty one like you ain’t grinding that ass up against me after a few touches here n’ there.”

Okay, so maybe he did notice. And maybe now his breath was huffing warm air against the column of your throat. Maybe he was soaking in the way your breath hitched after being caught, or how you tilted your head to the side to give him easier access. How you accepted consequence without strain or argument. You were his willing hostage and prisoner, your heart under lock and twisted tight with a key he strung around his neck. Flaunted, even. You’d die in his confinement if you could.

“Can’t help it..”

“Sure you can, sweetpea. But you’re a filthy thing. I’m gon’ take care of that.”

Like a moth drawn to his flame you let his lips scorch your skin with burning kisses, revelling in the heat of his body pressed against yours. Joel wasn’t a man of many words, but he was good at putting his mouth to work.

“Been neglectin’ you, have I angel?” It was muffled against your skin, the wired scrape of his beard making your head lull back into him. For a man who insisted he was getting too old for this shit, he sure knew how to play you. Better than any guitar, he revelled in the way he could pull and pluck your strings for sweet melodic moans. Strummed against your body with no need for a pick, calloused hands down your stomach in a slow sweeping motion until he felt your body shiver. You were his favourite song. He had the chords of your noises down-pact and the tempo of your pulse memorised. And he loved a good reprise. “Not giving you the attention you deserve?”

And that’s when it first gets his attention.

Joel stopped for a second, long enough for him to stare down at the way he so easily enveloped your frame. Large hands reaching to now cup your hips, he was worried if he squeezed his thumbs might brush against one another. And yes, it was a harsh overstatement, but he couldn’t help it. His eyebrows furrowed as he muttered.

“Look at how small you are in my shirt, practically a fuckin’ dress.”

You had to take a second to fully register what he said. Under the prying eye of someone like Joel you couldn’t help but feel - well, small. As ironic as it sounded he had a talent of making you feel inferior in the most delicious way. He could protect you or break you. And yet he chose not to do the latter out of love. Unless you asked him to, that is.

“How’ve I never realised how little you are, sugar..”

Tongue bitten, you didn’t dare speak. Joel was running laps through his own mind and you secretly loved it. Watching him drink in the body he’d hugged close to time and time again. The body he’d ravished and pampered as best he could for someone in these conditions.

A calloused palm cupped over your chin, as if he was putting two and two together in his mind. Gears churning through rusted spurs and teeth.

“Whole hand fits around your damn jaw.”

And you let him do it. Toss you and turn you, eyes scanning down your body. You feel like prey under his gaze. Joel has always reminded you of a silver fox, a grey wolf. Something sneering and growling, bearing teeth and unhinged jaw to devour you. And you don’t flee. Let him take you apart, carve through the meat of your body as his fingers gently graze over your face.

“You’ve gone quiet on me, peach.” Shit. Even with the hearing loss from gunfire he can still pick up on the little things. Like what your hitched breath and silence means.

“What, you like being shoved ‘round like this?”

Yes. Very much so. Knowing the strength of such a dangerous man yet letting him handle you around. You’d do just about anything for Joel. He could rip out your heart and oh so sickly you’d thank him for it.

And he smiled. He fucking smiled when he realised. Shaking his head a little out of disbelief, as if it was uncommon to see his angel so willing to shut up and listen. To just feel. And he made sure you felt. Because you definitely felt the way your pussy was leaking arousal into your underwear.

“Open up for me.” It wasn’t a demand, though there was a certain edge of command behind his words.

He didn’t have to tell you twice. Lips parting, eyes like a does. You followed this wolf and his actions no matter how quickly you may soon be devoured.

He dragged over you with his thumb, and he took his sweet time about it too. Pink flesh of tongue pressed against the tough skin of scarred fingers, giving a hefty push to make your jaw go slack. Hands that had killed thousands, handling guns and bearing arms against fuck knows what beyond the walls of Jackson. But he handled you with care. “Good. That’s real good, baby.”

That’s one thing you were forever thankful for, how only you saw this side of Joel. The softened looks and rubs over your face, how he threatened to toss you over his shoulder like a sack of flour when you were being a brat (even though you doubted it), the way he pulled you into his lap to hold you and feel your heartbeat. And now, how he pressed the pad of his thumb against your tongue, tasting of salt from sweat and whatever else he’d been doing outside. You didn’t care though. You never cared. Because it was Joel, and he was mean and angry and he’d wronged so many people, but he was tender with you.

And that’s how you liked it. No matter how sick it was. His thumb eased out to be replaced by his index and middle, to which you gratefully clamped your lips around them both. Taking his word as law, obeying with ease. You stood with eyes half lidded, his fingers in your mouth in the middle of the kitchen like some dumbed out whore. And honestly? You needed it after the week you’d had. Letting him push a third finger past the pink of your lips until your jaw ached, and watching how he stifled a huff of approval at the meek sound you made around the digits.

“Can hardly take a few fingers, can’t even think of how you’d look suckin’ on my dick.” He was wearing that shit eating smirk, but it made you whimper weakly. It had you looking up at him like a lovesick puppy with glossy eyes and stuffy thoughts of pure cotton-fluffed lust. Something soft to land on far away from the grime and death of the outside world. You let Joel drag you through this state of mind, slick dribbling out into the gusset of your underwear. He never ceased to turn you on when he got a little rougher on you but still praised you. Called you a dirty little thing but praised you for taking him all the way into your greedy cunt. Much like you were about to once again, the familiar sensation of the rough fingertips of his other hand slipping past your underwear to run over the length of your folds. Joel’s groan vibrated against the back of your neck. No many how many times you danced this dance, there was always one detail that drove him buckwild. “Fuckin’ soaked already.”

How easy it was to turn you on.

Pulling the three fingers from your mouth so he could watch your spit drip down them, he rather meanly wiped it over the front of the shirt you wore. That caused you to whine up at him. You were already so reluctant to do that stupid laundry, and now your last resort was covered in your own drool. But Joel was quick to shut you up. Letting his thumb roll lazy circles over the swollen bud of your clit, he felt his body stiffen whenever you keened out with twitching hips. Gasping for breath like he’d stolen your lungs with a few circling touches. Rendered speechless off his touch, off the feeling of his fat fingers prodding to spread your folds and watch your arousal drool from your neglected cunt. Prettiest damn sight for him.

“Don’t even have to fuck you open, you’re practically gaping for me. Christ.”

Vulgar words from a vulgar mouth, his accent a coppery tang. Metallic like the pluck of a guitar string, you let his two fingers still coated in your spit slide into you. His chuckle was warm and flush against the back of your neck, knuckle deep inside of you from where you both stood in the kitchen. Snug around him, leaning into his touch as if it were the cure to all. He clicked his tongue.

“Well would’ya look at that. Fits like a damn glove. Don’t know why I’m surprised, it always does.”

Your pitiful whimper drifted through the warm air of the kitchen, floating above you as a reminder that no matter what you did or how you teased him Joel was always in charge. Luckily you liked that. The shift of his fingers once you’d adjusted to their size, he was slow and deliberate in his movements. No need to rush when this was the closest to normal he’d felt in a while. And pleasuring you while he felt it? Icing on the goddamn cake.

“There you go, sweetpea.” A warm murmur to the side of your neck, he’s keeping his other hand occupied by thumbing over your hard nipple underneath your shirt. His shirt. Joel’s fingers were thick and heavy to you, they always had been. He was a coarse and rough man yet treated you like you were made of porcelain. He only ever got rough on you when you wanted him to.

“Joel..”

He took care of you. Squeezed at the taut flesh of your breast as he pushed and curled his fingers. Revelling in your squeeze and pull, how you shuddered and exhaled, practically sucking him in thanks to his efforts. Playing over you.

You were a break from the world, a moment of bliss and serenity he didn’t even realise he’d missed until he found you.

And no matter how many times he’d done this already, he had to admit, you sounded so fucking good when you took him. Be that his fingers, his tongue, his cock. You were always his best sweetheart. Took it like a champ every time. Every moan and whine making his dick ache from the tight confines of his jeans, knowing damn well he was staining the worn fabric of his boxers. He’d fuck you later for being so sweet to him, for letting him do this. But for now, he’d just fuck you on his fingers. A little taste before the main course of the night.

Was he taking care of you all soft like? Taking his time to stroke into you so you mewled and arched your back? Absolutely.

That didn’t stop his dirty talk, though. Or his pace from quickening when he found that extra sensitive spot inside your weeping heat that made you cry out. Bingo. You never were a quiet one when it came to him, and it was a good thing to. It meant he knew just where to touch you, he could gauge your reactions and learn where to kiss and lick, where to stroke and pump.

“Should keep you like this around the house. Anytime I come home you’re just waitin’ for me in one of my shirts. Panties damn near drenched. All you gotta do is tip over on the couch, stick that ass up, and let me fuck you int’ the cushions. Give me a real nice n’ warm welcome home.”

The idea of such a thing, of a perfect world where you wouldn’t feel too vulnerable or flustered, dare say embarrassed to do that, it made you whine. The smoke of his voice, the air of his actions and words. He was a powerful man, a bad man that treated you so good. Clenching down on the two thick fingers curling inside of you, letting him work you over into a mess leaking slick down your thighs and his digits. Joel almost instantly felt that change, that squeeze, and growled lowly into your ear.

“Let it go for me, darlin’. C’mon.” Scary how set he was on making you feel good. But you were his darlin’, so what kind of gentleman would he be if he didn’t help you?

It hit you in waves. Always did. No matter how lazy his movements were you always broke apart for him. Beat after beat of pulsing relaxation and bliss that had you moaning weakly against him. Leaning back, falling into his arms while you glazed over his fingers, sweating through your shirt like the house was a sauna. You could’ve sworn the windows were fogging up.

Once you’d come back down from that syrupy place in your mind Joel was pressing a quick kiss to your cheek. Sweetness in a time like this one, you could feel him wiping his other hand clean of your juices. First spit, now arousal. Apparently he was feeling extra crude today, using your shirt as any old hand towel.

And you could hear the smirk in his voice.

“Oughta get that basket ready, sweetheart. Think we need to get that laundry done.”

Guess you had no choice but to go down to that shitty community laundromat now.

#joel miller smut #joel miller tlou #joel x reader #joel tlou #smut #the last of us x reader #joel miller x reader smut #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel the last of us #tlou joel

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eliysian · 6 months

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cinarette's writing is SO good im <33

Ocean Eyes

Summary: A simple, lazy day makeout session with Leon.

Pairing: Leon Kennedy x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 915 words

Warnings: Fluff, pet names (pretty girl, greedy girl, princess), making out

Tags: Playful and cute Leon, pouty reader

A/N: I went ahead and combined two requests for this little blurb, so I hope you both like it!! I am slowly on the mend from Covid, never want to experience that shit again. I have turned requests off just so I can catch up on the ones sitting in my ask box and a few other ideas I had, but my asks are always open for headcanons or to chat or anything else. Anyways, enough rambling. Please enjoy! <3 <3 <3 Song title from "Ocean Eyes" by Billie Eilish.

Sitting sideways on the couch with your feet tucked beneath Leon’s warm, muscular thigh, you scrolled absentmindedly through your social media accounts. Every minute that you vaguely listened to the history documentary chosen by him as you thumbed through posts, your body slowly sunk deeper and deeper into the plush backrest. Your loosely planned, lazy Friday evening slowly grew boring as the clock ticked on, and Leon focused more on the TV and less on you.

“What’re you looking at?”

The low, gentle timbre brought your attention back to the presence as you looked up, cheek still propped up on your closed fist. You shrugged in response to Leon’s question, flashing him a view of your phone screen. “Nothing, honestly,” a sigh left your lips as you locked your phone with a forming pout. “I’m kind of bored.”

Leon’s lips curved into a gentle smile as he leaned his head back on the cushion and looked you over. Like you, he had dressed down to simple lazy wear for the night. The black t-shirt and gray sweatpants combo was a look of his you’d never get tired of seeing. He sat up slightly in his seat, parting his thighs before he patted one. “C’mere.”

You set your phone on the couch cushion behind you and hooked a leg over his lap, seating yourself in the dip between his thighs. Wrapping your arms around the back of his neck, you pressed your chest flush to his. He was warm, per usual, and the lingering scent of his spiced, woodsy scented body wash and crisp cologne was quickly welcomed by your senses as you inhaled slowly.

Leon rubbed his warm, calloused palms up the bare skin of your thighs, raising little goosebumps over the span of your smooth skin. He smiled gently as he looked into your eyes. From this close up in the warm light casted by the end table lamp, you could see his pupils dilate each time he looked at you. Those deep blue ocean eyes were filled with nothing but love for you as he continued to gently caress your skin.

“What can I do to entertain my pretty girl, hmm?” Leon mused, tilting his head back as his hands slid up to your waist and firmly grasped. He pulled you closer, pressing your body completely against his, now. His fingers slipped beneath your oversized t-shirt and pressed against the skin of your hips just above your sleep shorts. “What ever would satisfy your need for attention?”

Your lips threatened to twitch upwards into a smile, but you fought the urge with another pout. Dramatically sighing, you leaned your forehead down against his shoulder and shrugged again. “I don’t know. I’m dying,” you whined against him playfully.

Leon tutted mockingly, reaching a hand up to pat your back. “Now, now. We can’t have that, now can we?” He continued to pat your back gently. His soft bangs fell over his eyes as he leaned his head against yours, chest vibrating with a thoughtful hum. “Would a kiss be enough?”

You mimicked his hum, sitting up slightly as you tapped your fingers to your lips. You pretended to give the suggestion plenty of thought, squinting your eyes as you looked up at the ceiling. “I don’t know if just one would suffice.”

Leon scoffed, shaking his head at you. “Greedy girl,” he chided playfully. “How about two, then?”

Finally letting yourself smile fully, you leaned in until your lips were an inch away from his. “How about… one,” you gave him the first kiss. “Or two,” a second kiss followed.

“Or three.. Or four..”

He let out a deep chuckle as you continued to count through the kisses, even tilting his head for you to plant them across his cheeks and over his forehead. By the time you’d reached ten, you’d almost covered every inch of his smooth skin. A soft pink hue settled on his high cheekbones as he leaned his head back once more, giving you a lopsided smile. “Was that enough?” Leon asked with raised eyebrows.

“Nope,” you quickly answered, popping the ‘p’ before you leaned back in. The eleventh kiss was a lot longer than your previous fleeting pecks. Your lips pillowed against his in gentle meetings, each point of contact bringing about a soft smacking sound. You cupped his face in your soft hands, thumbs rubbing against his cheeks as he let you take the lead.

Leon gripped your hips once more, holding you flush against him as he chased your lips after each slight retreat. A soft, grumbling moan left his throat as he swiped his tongue against your bottom lip, silently asking for access. Once you’d granted it to him, he wasted no time in pushing the wet appendage into your mouth.

You fought him for dominance, tongues dancing together in a heated tango until you ultimately relented. He sat up as you sunk down in his lap, letting him wholly consume you through the passionate kiss until you both broke away for air.

Once he’d caught his breath, Leon gave your hip a tap with his fingers as he looked down at you. His smile bordered on cheeky as he looked into your eyes again. “Was that enough attention for you, princess?”

You pursed your lips, swaying side-to-side slightly on his lap as you thought about your answer. “Hmm… No, I think I need a little bit more.”

「 @ cinnarette 2023 Please don’t repost, copy, translate, or feed into any AI. Support your fellow creators by reblogging, commenting, and liking! 」

#leon kennedy drabble #leon kennedy imagine #leon kennedy x reader #resident evil leon kennedy #leon kennedy #resident evil #leon kennedy fluff #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy fanfic #fluff #resident evil drabble #resident evil imagines #leon scott #leon s kennedy

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eliysian · 6 months

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Make Daddy Proud

Summary: Drunk off your ass, you send a text to your boss that definitely wasn’t meant for him.

Pairing: Older!Leon Kennedy x Rookie Fem!Reader

Word Count: 6.1k words

Warnings: This is basically porn with minimal plot, age gap (reader is 24-25, Leon is 38), smut, slight dub-con? (Reader is/was drunk), PIV intercourse, oral sex fem!recieving, unprotected sex, daddy kink, creampie, pet names (sweetheart, baby, baby girl, pretty girl), slight degradation, praise kink, Dom!Leom, I can’t look at myself in the mirror after writing this filth, slightly OOC!Leon? Maybe? IDK anymore

A/N: I am absolutely depraved for DI!Leon, it’s not even funny 😭 I got so carried away with this, feel like a whore LMAOO. Hope you like this one, it’s pure smut and definitely not proofread out of my own shame. Title from “make daddy proud” by Blackbear. Enjoy! :)

You were down bad for your boss, Leon Kennedy. What started as a simple attraction, a mere appreciation of looks and personality soon snowballed into something uncontrollable. It was an infatuation that kept you up at night and at work longer than necessary, lingering in the doorframe of his office with that flirty little smile on your face and legs crossed. And either he was blind, you were delusional, or he did not feel the same way. But as you thought, maybe you were a bit delusional.

You were the rookie, the newbie and solo female under Leon’s response team. At twenty-four, you’d made it all the way to agent under Leon’s command. From the start, you were hooked on that soft, light brown fringe and his intense, unwavering blue-tinted gaze. From the battle scars, bulging veins in his biceps you just wanted to gnaw on, and everything in between, you had the hots for this man. He could slut you out for hours for all you cared.

The absence of a ring had you hopeful, save for the extensive HR presentation when you’d first been hired explicitly stating relationships of any nature between subordinates and superiors were prohibited, but a little danger didn’t scare you. You’d taken your time to scan over his desk, looking for any signs of a personal life (which you were both pleased and a bit confused at the sheer lack of personality in Leon’s office), but it meant you had a chance. Of course, the older man never seemed to indulge into any details of his personal life. Occasionally, you’d get a sprinkle of ‘Leon Lore’, like the fact that he was raised Catholic but no longer practiced, or the lifelong dream he’d had to be a cop before he ended up in this damned field. It never went much deeper than that, but you had your ways.

Tonight, you curled up on your couch with a glass and full bottle of your favorite sweet wine. It was the first day off your team had in awhile, and you planned to spend it shit-faced binge watching all of the God awful reality TV shows Netflix had to offer. You’d made it halfway through your bottle by the time your best friend, Kennedy, had started her nightly gossip session with you. Exchanging horror stories of both your weeks at work (save for sensitive information), it had quickly devolved into you gushing over Leon. Again.

‘I don’t think you understand the things I’d let this man do to me,’ your first text to her went, your face warm from both your depraved lusting and the warm red running down your throat as it was absorbed into your bloodstream. This particular brand of wine always made your brain leak out of your ears, turning you into a woman that made you cringe the next morning. ‘I’d let him choke me out with those big ass biceps my GOD.’

You giggled to yourself, standing up to take your half empty bottle of wine back to the fridge. And of course, like every time you drank sitting down, it hit you all in one stumbling rush. “Oh, fuck,” you hiccuped, bracing yourself against the couch until you felt okay enough to walk again. You felt your phone buzz in your hand, looking down through blurry eyes at the message preview.

‘Fatherless behavior,’ Kennedy had texted back, followed by a string of skull emojis.

You giggled again, making it into the kitchen and tucking your bottle into your slightly barren fridge. Leaning against your counter, you faltered as the words seemed to dance against your phone screen as you tried to click on her message thread. After an eternity of you blinking at your phone like an idiot, you finally clicked on it to reply: ‘Who neds a dadwhen Leon culd just bnd meover nd make me screaam daddy all nigh?’ You locked your phone, hiding the evidence of your own sinful text and atrocious, drunken typos as you took a deep breath.

Wait.

You blinked again, eyebrows furrowing in drunken confusion. Why the hell is she talking about reports? Unlocking your phone, you went back to your messages.

You’d never lost a buzz so fucking fast in your life. “Oh, no, no, no.”

All color draining from your face, feeling the cold slap of sobering up, you stared down with your mouth agape. Instead of ‘Kennedy’, you’d texted ‘Leon Kennedy’ instead. Fingers scrambling across your phone sceen, you quickly remembered that iPhones now allowed you to unsend messages. You clicked on your chat thread with Leon, heart thumping in the pit of your stomach.

Read 10:24 PM.

You didn’t even think. Flight or flight must’ve kicked in because you chucked that phone across your apartment, watching it soar and hit the back of your couch only to disappear somewhere beneath it. You covered your mouth, slumping back and down against the kitchen cabinets to sit on your floor in shame. Goddamnit.

__________________________________________

He needed a fucking vacation. Hell, he needed to retire at this point. Leon had never been more fed up in his life, constantly sore and passing out on his couch five minutes after making it in the door. He was grateful for this day off, getting the night to himself to catch up on Blue Bloods reruns with a cold glass of Jack Daniels.

The man had his feet kicked up on the coffee table, ankles crossed as his grey sweats hung low on his bare hips. He sipped on his whiskey, eyes lazily glued to the TV as he watched the rookie cop let the suspect evade him. “Fucking idiot,” he mumble under his breath, far too invested in the storyline to think about anything else.

Until he heard the chime of his phone, face down on the coffee table as it illuminated the polished wood. His lips instantly curved into a scowl, fully-expecting a beckoning to the office or a case file from Hunnigan. He groaned, dropping his feet to the floor as he leaned forward, snatching the phone off the table and bringing it in his field of view. Never get a damn day of peace.

‘Who neds a dadwhen Leon culd just bnd meover nd make me screaam daddy all nigh?’

Leon’s eyebrows damn near shot off his face, raising up so high his forehead wrinkled in utter surprise. He blinked once, reading the message and rereading just to make sure he understood the jumbled words sent from you.

He whistled lowly, leaning back against his couch as he continued to look down at his phone. The sudden shock of heat, blood rushing away from his rational mind and right towards his dick, had him staring at his phone in silence for a few beats of his quickening heart. Had it been anyone else, he’d text back an immediate, ‘Come see me in my office tomorrow.’

But, you? The little minx that made his life and his cock so much harder than he’d care to admit? Fuck.

Leon wasn’t a man to act on his base instincts. Hell, it had been so long for him that at one point, he wasn’t sure if his dick even worked anymore. Late nights with whiskey dick and the never-ending stress of his job, he hardly even tried to chase meaningless pleasure anymore. He was convinced he’d be a bachelor forever, and he was slightly okay with that.

Until you came along. Bright-eyed and full of fiery spite, determined to prove yourself in a male-dominated field. He’d sniffed out your crush on him five months in on his team, slowly picking up on the way you always made a point to laugh at his shitty jokes everyone else groaned over. Or your yearly evaluation, when you’re wore that tight pencil skirt and batted your eyelashes at him every five minutes that he’d barely made it through your performance review without stopping to bend that tight little body over his desk and make you cry.

You brought out a primal urge in him, a insatiable thirst to just conquer every inch of your smooth skin and carry out the Kennedy bloodline. Of course, he had years of practiced restraint and never let you know that he’d caught on. He treated you the same as everyone else, keeping his desire in line and using any object in his hand to block the twitching bulge that grew at just the sight of you.

Leon set his whiskey glass on the coffee table, running the now-free hand over his mouth as he tried to determine a course of action. Should he just pretend he didn’t see it, and continue on with the teeth-gnashing mutual pining, or should he take this as a sign to finally cross that line? He didn’t know, stuck in a rut of his own pride and professionalism yet waging a war with his throbbing cock leaking precum into the Calvin Kleins around his hips.

‘I don’t think that was meant for me, sweetheart.’ He finally settled on replying, eyes locked in on his phone like a damn target. He watched your read reciept show, the continuous starting and stopping of your typing bubble before he got a reply.

‘Agent Kennedy I am SO sorry.’

He chuckled lowly at your sudden formality, finding your embarrassment quite endearing. Leon let out another grunt, standing up from his couch as he stretched out the never-ending knot in his back. He sucked his teeth, tapping the fingers that held his phone against the case as he walked towards his bedroom.

‘Don’t be. It was very flattering.’ He replied back to you, steeling himself against all internal shrieks of his conscious, telling him no, no! This was a line that would only complicate his already tangled line if crossed. But, it was you.. Ah, what the hell. ‘Why don’t I come over and make that thought a reality?’

__________________________________________

After diving to the floor like a madwoman to retrieve it once you’d heard that ding, you were surprised at the reception to your mistake. He’s not mad? You thought to yourself when you read the first two messages, letting out an uneasy sigh, half-filled with relief despite your mortification. But that third message had you tensing right back up, swallowing thickly as it took you a few moments to comprehend. You were still buzzed, only convinced mentally that you’d sobered up just enough to consciously think this through.

‘Okay :)’

With that sent, you tossed your phone on the couch and beelined for your bedroom. Tearing off your unflattering loungewear and tossing it into the hamper, you rushed into the bathroom. You did the quickest shave of your life, thanking yourself for grooming fully two days prior. You fixed your hair, touched up your deodorant and spritzed yourself in the most alluring perfume that you owned. Scampering back into the bedroom, you sunk to your knees in front your dresser, digging through that drawer that hadn’t been touched in a hot minute. Pulling out bodysuit after babydoll after straight-up G-string, you finally settled on a sexy two piece set that had never seen the light of day.

You popped the tags off, wiggling the lacy bottoms over your hips and ass before clipping the bralette on in the front before you turned it around and covered your breasts. Standing in the mirror, you looked yourself over to make sure it was hot enough to seduce the hunk of a man currently on his way to your apartment. He knew your address, having dropped you off after work once before after your car shit out on you in the parking garage.

And while you waited, you spent your time pacing around your apartment after covering yourself in just the DSO-issued sweatshirt you’d gotten last fall for some decency. There’s no way this is happening, you thought, wringing your hands to combat the fluttering nerves in the pit of your stomach. Even the copious amount of wine you’d consumed couldn’t ease the blooming anxiety of knowing that Leon, the Leon Kennedy as your fellow agent Patrick called him, was on his way to most likely rearrange your insides.

But damn, if that thought didn’t cause you to feel your thudding heartbeat between your thighs. You were already way too wet for comfort, feeling the flimsy mesh and lace cling to your heat as your thighs shifted with each turn and walk. You almost bit your nails, but you stopped yourself the second you heard that knock against your door.

Taking the deepest breath humanly possible, you tried to keep a casual pace as you walked to the front entrance of your apartment. It was useless because your fingers unlocked the door and gripped the handle so tight as you flung it open.

Standing there, looking straight Lust out of the bible was Leon, bulging biceps crossed over his chest as he leaned against the doorframe. White t-shirt, grey sweatpants with a thick imprint you had to tear your eyes away from, and a pair of tennis shoes you didn’t even know he owned. He smirked at you, blue eyes trailing over your womanly figure as they lingered on your bare thighs.

“You gonna let me in, sweetheart?” He rasped, gaze flicking back up to your face as he shifted his stance ever-so-slightly.

You smiled shyly and stepped aside, getting a whiff of that fucking cologne that was probably way out of your paygrade as he stepped aside and toed his shoes off by the door. From what you’d seen from team dinners and after-mission drinks, that sleek black card of his never declined. You shut the door behind him, shifting your weight from foot to foot as he seemed to take in your modest apartment and decor, an extension of your personality. “I really did not mean to send that to you,” you broke the silence first, looking down at your painted toes pressed against the linoleum.

He chuckled deeply, waving a hand to dismiss your anxiety as he turned back to face you. “It was a surprise, I’ll admit,” he started, taking a step towards you. His eyes searched yours, checking for the sobriety you’d slowly gained while waiting for him before he let his hands reach for your waist. He gripped tightly, warm and calloused hands brushing over the lace peeking out from your sweatshirt before he pulled you into him.

Your lower stomach brushed over his bulge, feeling the twitch underneath warm fabric as he hissed lowly from the contact. He tilted his head down and to the side, dark bangs falling over his hooded and slightly age-lined eyes as he peered down at you. “But, I wouldn’t say it wasn’t welcome.”

You blushed, heart thumping and slick hole fluttering as your chest brushed into his. You could feel his breath fanning over your face, catching the hint of whiskey underneath spearmint from that gum he always carried around. You hesitated before reaching your arms up, letting them cross loosely behind his neck. “Really?” Your voice hindered on a whisper, tinged with shyness and budding arousal.

“Mhm,” he half-groaned, slipping his hands to your ass and cupping, fingers dimpling the swell of flesh he’d spent too much time staring at every time you walked by his office or crouched out in the field. He kneaded against you, lustfully gazing into your eyes before he slowly leaned down.

Your mouth met his, an embarrassingly needy moan leaving your lips as you felt his warm, slightly-chapped lips brushing against yours. It started simple, lingering pecks and soft touching before he grew more eager, teeth sinking into your plump bottom lip before he sucked it into his mouth. He released it with a pop, letting out a harsh breath as he dove back in for more. His tongue slipped in through the soft part courtesy of your needy panting, flicking against your tongue in sloppy thrusts.

You let him overpower your mouth, melting and whining as he continued to grip and fondle your bottom, jolting when a firm hand struck your right cheek. He rubbed the blossoming handprint, sucking on your tongue as you willingly lolled it out for him. The makeout had bordered on messy and desperate, his lips shiny with saliva as it dribbled down your chin. When he finally pulled away for air, he swiped the wetness away with the rough pad of his thumb.

“Such a messy girl, already,” Leon husked, eyes simmering dark and intense. “Who knew the little rookie was so needy, huh?”

His words sent a shiver down your spine, splitting off into a tremble in your thighs. You fought hard to stay alert, pulling all tactics you’d learned in the Academy as you tried to keep from slipping right into that syrupy, warm buzz of a headspace. Your skills failed you, hips lurching forward to grind desperately against him. “Mhm,” you moaned, repeating his earlier grunt in such a needy and submissive tone, it drove him fucking wild.

He growled lowly, teeth gritting as the throbbing in his cock only kickstarted, watching your eyes glaze over and widen like a doe’s. Leon let his hands slip down below your ass, one tapping against the back of your thigh in a coax.

You listened obediently, hopping up as he easily lifted you with those strong arms, pushing your legs back to wrap around his waist. His nose slotted against yours as you leaned forward, curling into him as he felt your wetness through your panties and the thin fabric of his undershirt. “Good girl,” he grunted, taking a moment to watch your face flush and lips quiver. He turned, holding you up with ease as you took the moment to run your fingers over the exposed, tanned skin of his veiny arms.

“Where’s your bedroom, baby girl,” he leaned in to whisper against the shell of your ear, drawing out another whimper from your lips and shiver of your body.

“Second door down the hall,” you let out breathlessly, feeling his breath fan over the sensitive part of your neck as you dug your nails into his flesh.

He hummed in appreciation of the sting, turning on his heel as he carried you through the living room and into the hall, finding the open door of your bedroom. Leon let you down gently against the mattress once his shins brushed your footboard, bracketing his arms beside your head as he leaned over your body. “So fucking sexy,” he whispered, dipping his head down to kiss your neck. “Making me s’ fucking hard.” His words rumbled against your flesh, causing your hips to buck up against his pelvis.

You were panting hard, choked up with arousal and tongue fat in your mouth like it didn’t belong. You couldn’t think over the heat and needy thoughts swirling around your fuzzy head, using the last bit of restraint you had to keep from babbling out pleas to fuck you already.

Leon was dead-set on taking his time with you, however. Tongue sliding out of his mouth to taste your skin like a barrel-aged liquor, savoring the slight salt of your skin and natural aroma that made his headspin. Even as he latched on, teeth nipping at the spot beneath your ear that made you whine, he couldn’t help himself but to thrust his hips against your clothed pussy. He’d managed to shift the thin fabric, spreading slick against your thigh as part of your glistening cunt was exposed.

He pulled away from your neck and leaned up to grasp the hem of your sweatshirt, giving a tug against the fabric. You untangled your arms from behind his neck, raising them up for him to pull it off of you and toss it somewhere behind him. He groaned, looking down at your breasts threatening to spill from the lacy top, able to see your peaked nipples under the shifting mesh. His gaze trailed down, over your soft stomach and down to the cheeky-cut panties he wanted to tear off right then and there. “Fuck me,” he mumbled to himself, pushing his bangs back and out of his eyes to see you better.

All those days and nights of watching you move around, whether in business attire or your tactical pants in the field, and here you were. A gift from Heaven, wrapped in lace and soft to the touch. He reached down, adjusting his leaking cock beneath his sweats for a brief moment of relief. You looked so pretty, hands still above your head and crossed at the wrists, naturally submissive and ready for him. He ran his hands down, fingers feathering over your hard nipples and down your ribs to your stomach. Leon grasped the flesh, dragging his palms down over your waist and hips until they settled right at the crease in your thighs.

You shivered at his touch, lips parting as you let out a soft little breath. Your pupils were blown, nearly swallowing the entirety of your eyes as you looked up at him. He’d barely touched you, and you were already dripping from your cunt to the underside of your ass with arousal. A sharper gasp left when he roughly gripped the outside of your thighs, pulling them away from his hips and pushing them aside.

His gazed dropped right to your heat, sucking in a breath at the way you lips had started to swallow the gusset of your panties. “Such a pretty pussy,” he whispered, timbre tones deeper than normal and a slight growl in his words. It had you clenching around nothing as he took a step back, dropping to his knees before the bed. He pulled you closer, hips hanging off the bed as your cunt lined up with his mouth. He looked up at you through dark, heavy lashes as he leaned his head in.

“Oh, fuck,” you whimpered, head rolling back as he licked a strip up your slit. He didn’t even bother pulling your panties off yet, getting enough of your taste from the soaked fabric barely covering you. You shuddered from his second lick, leaning up on your elbows to watch him eagerly.

“Taste so good, pretty baby,” he grunted, nipping at your clit through your panties and earning a soft squeal from you. One hand slipped away from your thigh to tug two fingers under the cloth, tugging it to the side and exposing you to the cool air of your bedroom. He made up for it with his mouth, sucking your clit in with a lewd slurp. He rolled it between his lips, humming as he felt your hips squirm against his face.

You were already so sensitive, bud swollen and tender to the touch. He released you with a pop, breathing deeply through his nose as he licked up against you again. Leon’s tongue was hot and flat, covering the expanse of the simmering flesh between your folds. Your mewls only urged him on, taking turns sucking at your outer lips before he dipped his head down further. You cried out, feeling his tongue fuck into your sopping hole without warning.

“Oh my god,” you whined out, grabbing fistfuls of the covers beneath you. “Leon.” Your voice was high and airy, filling in the hot space lingering between your floor and ceiling.

He hummed against you, eyes fluttering closed as he continued to thrust his tongue in and out of you, causing you to twitch and whimper with each pass. He pulled away, dark eyes meeting yours from between your thighs. “That’s not my name,” he mumbled gruffly, gripping your thigh with a bruising clench.

You looked down at him, heat flooding from your toes to your practically smooth brain, lips trembling with a threat of a moan. “Daddy,” you finally let the moan free, grinding your pussy back against his face with a heady urge.

His nails dug into your sensitive flesh, another aroused grunt leaving his lips as he dove right back in. “Good fucking girl,” he whispered hotly against you before he zoned in on your clit once more. Slurping against you and moaning from just your taste, he swore he’d cum right then and there hearing your airy whines and babbling whimpers of daddy and strings of curses. He got tired of holding your panties to the side, pulling away to eye the fabric. “Hope this wasn’t expensive,” he huffed before both hands grasped the mesh. He pulled once, harsh tug causing the fabric to tear with a loud rip followed by your moan of surprise. Leon slipped his hand up further, tearing the side resting onto your hip until it fell loosely against the bed. He pulled it out from under you, tucking it into his pocket like a prize.

Laying your head back against the bed again, you took in a breath to soothe your pounding heart. It had no use, considering you were arching up just seconds later when two fingers plunged inside of you and immediately curled upwards. You practically sat up, legs spread with your feet planted against the wooden frame of your bed. Leon’s tongue circled your clit, occasionally suckling against it as he continued to fuck his fingers into you. Your moans were uncontrollable, falling out with each breath as he pressed the pads of his fingers against your spongy insides.

“Daddy,” you squeaked out, legs trembling as the pressure and quickness of his fingers carried you much faster towards your release than you’d expected. Your all-consuming arousal and the lingerance of alcohol in your system wasn’t helping, either. “G’nna come-”

“Lemme hear it, baby,” he huffed out, only pulling away for a second before he went right back to slurpring against your clit, fingers squelching in and out of you at an unforgiving pace. He watched your every move, carefully studying your facial expressions until he pinned down the exact spot that sent you flying over the edge.

You let out a wail, hands flying down to grip into his hair as your legs shook so hard the bed creaked. Your breath slipped from your lungs, sucked out from the sheer force of a much needed orgasm that had your eyes shutting so tight you saw nebulas behind your eyelids. He continued to finger you through it, deep and warm words praising you softly as he let go of your clit. When you were finally finished and had released the iron grip on his hair, he grasped the bedframe to pull himself up onto his feet again with a huff.

You fell back against the bed once more, choking down breaths through shaky whimpers as he smiled down at you, pleased with himself that he still had it after all those years.

His light stubble against his chin was a tinge darker, coated with your release along with his swollen lips. He reached for his own shirt, pulling it over his head with crossed arms as he dropped it to the floor. Leon kept watching you, drinking in the way your face burned and your chest rose and fell with each shaky breath. He yanked his sweatpants and both boxers down in one swift tug, letting them fall around his legs and kicking them off to the side. He pulled his socks off last, standing before you completely naked.

You gave a weak moan at the sight, letting your eyes fall over the toned body, years of muscle rippling with every slight movement and littered with scars that only added to the allure. Had he not been a federal agent, he could’ve been on the front cover of some magazine you’d stop to gawk at in the grocery store. You leaned up, looking down the toned stomach to the light happy trail leading down to a neatly trimmed bush of darker pubic hair between his toned hips.

His cock kicked under your gaze, drawing your eyes right to it. You bit your lip, eyes widening minutely at the sheer thickness. Veiny, girthy, and cut, it was definitely the largest you’d ever seen and were now about to take. His tip was such a pretty shade of red, only a tint darker than his lips and shining with precum. God, even his balls made your fucked-out brain coo at the sight. You couldn’t believe this was what was always hiding beneath those straight-fit jeans and thigh-hugging tactical pants.

“Like what you see?” He chuckled, noticing your blissed-out expression and bitten lip as you eye-fucked to Hell and back.

You nodded, eagerly pulling off that lacy bralette and scooting further up on the bed. You cooed as he followed, eyes locked on you like a predator sizing up his prey as he crawled onto the bed and

over you. He caged you in again, pushing your hair away to gaze down at your beautiful face.

“I’ve wanted this ever since you walked through that damn door,” Leon grumbled, grabbing one of your legs to hook over his hip. He leaned his weight down on an elbow, face hovering just inches above yours. “Showing up everyday in those slutty little outfits, hoping I’d look at you.”

You swallowed thickly, mumbling a moan as you tilted your chin up for a kiss. He obliged, pressing a lingering peck and sharing the tang of your release still coating his lips. “Wanted you so bad, daddy,” you whimpered, flustering up as he simpered down at you in response. “Thought you didn’t want me back.”

He shushed you, cupping your face in his hand momentarily as he dragged his thumb over your lips. “‘Course I wanted you,” Leon huffed, pulling your bottom lip to expose the row of teeth before it let it pop back into place. “Pretty little baby making my job so damn hard. Can’t focus on anything with your ass around me.”

You let out a bubbling moan, leaning your head to the side as another wave of heat coursed through your body. Just like that, you were soaking wet and ready for him all over again.

He took notice, letting go of your face to trail his hand between the two of you to curl around his dick, encroaching the line of painfully hard. He pumped himself a few times, teeth gritting at his own sensitivity. Leon could only hope that he’d last long enough to make this the best experience you’d ever have. “Been wanting to cream this pussy so bad,” he lowly rasped out, tapping his tip firmly against your sensitive clit before slipping it down through your folds, lubricating himself with your wetness.

You moaned out, falling right back into your previous state of mind as his words had more and more of an effect on you. “Want it so bad, daddy,” you pleaded, wiggling underneath him to line your tight entrance up with his fat tip.

He teased you, letting it push in slowly but barely before he pulled it back out. “Wanna hear you beg for it, baby girl,” he whispered huskily. “Tell daddy what you want.”

You caved instantly, having dreamt of this moment too many times to let it pass you by. It was almost ridiculous how fast you were blubbering, pouting and pleading like you were starved for him. “Please, please, pleaseee,” you whined out, grabby hands reaching up to clasp his shoulders, wiggling your hips up for any point of friction between your sexes. “I’ll be a good girl for it, promise-please, daddy..”

Leon smirked at your eagerness, taking a second to watch your watering eyes and pleading pout before he sunk in with a sharp thrust. He hissed as you gasped, both taking a second to grasp the sensations currently flooding your bodies as he gripped you tighter with each of your shudders. “So fucking tight,” he groaned out.

You mewled out, leg kicking slightly beside his waist as he stretched you out to your limit. You had to suck in deep breaths, gripping onto him for grounding before you’d float through the damn ceiling. “S’ big, daddy, fuck!” You were already digging your nails into him when he hadn’t even given you a full thrust yet.

He pulled his hips back, trembling over you as your walls clenched down on him like a vice, sucking him back in with the first slapping thrust of his hips into you. His grunt was nothing compared to your pornographic moan, nails pressing red crescents into his burning skin. He pulled back once more, beginning a steady rhythm of fucking into you as your headboard hit the wall with each thrust.

“Oh, fuck. Oh my god,” you whined out, leg tucking tighter around him as you angled your hips upwards, letting him hit deeper inside him. Your whines turned into cries as his tip kissed your womb with each thrust, going as hard to push you further up on the bed before he dragged you right back to him by your hip.

“Good girl, good fucking girl,” Leon growled out, leaning his head down to yours to catch your blubbering mouth against his in a sloppy kiss. You could hardly breathe, too busy moaning out into his mouth to even try and focus on his tongue right now. He kissed you as he pleased, grabbing your leg in the process and hooking it over his shoulder.

Practically sobbing out once he’d broken the kiss, nothing you said was coherent between shuddering gasps and high-pitched whines. Your entrance suctioned around him, sucking him right back in every time he pulled out in the slightest.

He couldn’t even speak, either. Completely pussydrunk and reduced to mere grunts and his own soft moans as he fucked your body deeper into the soft mattress. The air was thick, hot with sex and unwavering tension with only your whiny pitches and the lewd sound of skin slapping together every few seconds.

If you weren’t fucked out and slowly creeping into the second set of release, you may have taken a second to ponder the thought that you were finally fucking your boss, pinned underneath his muscular frame and screaming out ‘daddy’ like it was his God-given title. But of course, his fat cock bullying in and out of you, splitting you open over and over was the only thing left in your empty head.

“Gonna cum if you keep squeezing around me like that, shit,” Leon gasped out, leaning his head down to nip at your collarbone in an attempt to focus himself and keep from releasing what would probably be the biggest load he’d ever had. “Naughty fucking girl.”

You weren’t any better, already feeling that second climax boiling up in your womb as you couldn’t help but clench tighter around him, sobbing out in response to his loud moan that escaped him. “I can’t, I can’t,” you cried out with a shake of your head, too far gone to reel yourself back in. “It’s too much, I can’t!”

He grunted, pushing up to grasp your other thigh and wrangling your into a full mating press as he pounded you with a fervor he’d never had before. “Go on,” Leon hissed out, sweat dripping from the pointy end of his bangs and rolling down his neck. “Don’t be shy, come for daddy.”

“Ohh, god,” you squealed out, hands circling and finding his as he held your thighs to your chest, holding onto him as you let out a scream sure enough to wake your damn neighbors. Your back arched off the bed as you gushed around him, coating the base of his dick with another slick release.

“There you go,” he grunted out, chasing after his own release as he teetered on the edge. A few more pumps of his hips, and Leon tensed up on top of you. He bit down against the flesh of your shoulder, letting out a strained groan as his cock twitched deep inside of you. He painted your inner walls white, shooting thick ropes that seemed to fill you to the brink until he finally finished with a gasp.

You both stayed in that position, gasping for air and trying to come back to reality. Your heart was completely pounding, leaving you lightheaded and tingly all over as you stared up at the ceiling, completely satisfied and utterly spent.

Leon slowly pulled out of you with a tense hiss, leaning back on his shins as he watched his cum leak out of you and onto your comforter. He was panting, chest heaving as he smiled to himself.

You tilted your head down to look at him, skin flushed from your cheeks to your breasts as you wiped your forehead with the back of your hand. You sat in a comfortable silence as he laid down next to you, pulling you against his sweaty chest with a hand stroking your hair.

He leaned down, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head as you leaned into him, perfectly content with the sequence of events for tonight.

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