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#Extra Evil
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shio301 · 2 years
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Day 1 • this extra evil is super short but it's really cute still
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areyouscaredyet · 5 months
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if they dated i think it would be like this
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bath
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hunnam · 5 months
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Myles O'Brien Evil Laugh (1986) // dir. Dominick Brascia
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ryllen · 1 month
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delivering peaceful judgement
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pinrut · 4 months
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stardustdiiving · 6 months
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Nahida is kind of the funniest person alive for seeing Scaramouche’s memories and then deciding to compare him to a sad little kitten. She canonically poor little meow meow’s him. Then after he accepts he is kind of poor little meow meow and not a being of pure evil she enrolls him into college as part of her plan to help him gain a sense of emotional stability. Incredible
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poorly-drawn-mdzs · 6 months
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Creative Hubris takes another unsuspecting victim.
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vivelarevolution13 · 1 month
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tbh I still think Brock Rumlow was an interesting character and upon further examination way more unsettling a villain than most to me because like. Let’s be real, the second you lay eyes on Robert Redford as Pierce monologuing in his pristine suit and glass office high up in the sky he just screams Evil Politician! at you. You can see it coming a mile away. Meanwhile Rumlow is….Just Some Guy. On the surface, he’s just some side dude. He’s not enhanced, he’s not in some major position of power, he’s just someone who’s really good at what he does and seems dedicated enough to the work and functions well with his team. He respects Steve, might admire him even, but not so much that he gets starry eyed like everybody else. He’s lighthearted but focused, he’s no nonsense, he’s the everyman Steve can relate to way more than spooks like Natasha or Fury.
And okay, maybe what Rumlow does for a living is beat intimidate and kill people, but it’s not like that’s the primary objective, right, because SHIELD are the good guys and this is what Steve does now, too, anyway; except that Steve doesn’t really use any weapons other than the shield, he holds back, he doesn’t carry a gun anymore which is usually fine since he’s dangerous enough without it. But when that leaves him vulnerable, he’s covered: Rumlow’s got his six, and he does it well, and he earns some of his trust. This is familiar to Steve.
And maybe Rumlow’s a little too good, fine, maybe he shoots a guy in the head within the first fifteen minutes of the movie when he doesn’t necessarily have to and then cracks jokes immediately after but that’s alright too, because that guy had Steve at gunpoint and that guy was Bad whereas Rumlow is One of the Good Guys just doing his job, right. Rumlow’s joking around because he’s used to the violence, they’re all used to it, and this is just how it works. They’re just soldiers doing the grunt work and following orders, and this is familiar, too.
Except that they’re not soldiers and this isn’t a war, except that the work is for an intelligence agency whose job it is to hoard and steal information and monitor civilians and orchestrate and sabotage and meddle in internal and external state affairs. Except that the Good Guys, in reality, are extremely grey at best. Except that many of the Good Guys turn out to be Nazis on top of everything else, and it’s not that far of a stretch.
But when it’s all starting to unravel, you’re still thinking well maybe some of these guys didn’t know. Maybe they didn’t do it out of individual belief, and if faced with the right choice, they can be redeemed.
That is until you realize that Rumlow maybe didn’t respect Steve and what he did so much as what Steve could do if only Steve weren’t “weak” in other ways, if Steve had chosen the right side. That it not being personal is less a cop out and more a taunt the same way just following orders has always been, for Rumlow and many many men that came before him and will continue to come after. Until the vault when, by the most charitable of interpretations, Rumlow looks at the Winter Soldier letting himself be smacked around and crying and getting shocked like he’s maybe a little unnerved (if not just downright fascinated) by the whole thing, but not enough that it really changes anything for him, because the end justifies the means and it’s not really his problem, anyway.
Until Sam shows up and Rumlow looks at him like a bird of prey and says This is gonna hurt with a fucking smile on his face, and then you think: shit, man, obviously. How was it not clear from the start.
To me, what makes someone like Rumlow a good villain, even a side one, is not that he’s straight up Insane & Evil™️ or suffering from Tragic Backstory Syndrome or all hopped up on magic superstrength juice or whatever, but precisely the fact that he’s Just Some Guy with a cockroach survival mentality who operates well within the established system and just so happens to be really good at his job - a job that he might’ve even joined thinking it was for a good cause, or because he had something to prove, or simply because it gave him one hell of an excuse to be a bully. Because he either wholeheartedly believes in HYDRA or he just doesn’t give much of a shit either way so long as he gets his due in the end, and both are just as bad.
Because when you strip away all the grand scale superhero theatrics, you’ve seen this before. You’ve seen Rumlows in your school and in your neighborhood and in the military and the cop car patrolling your street. They’re the ones who sometimes say or do somewhat offputting shit but you figure it’s fine because they’re otherwise real nice or charismatic or normal looking, or maybe they work a job that’s framed as helpful or protective or inherently good despite the power dynamics at play, or they share your background and interests and you chat about the weather being crap this time of year.
And every time one of them turns out to be a violent, hateful piece of shit, you’re still somehow surprised then, too, when you really shouldn’t be.
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fizzytoo · 3 months
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this version of us only lives inside a dream❣️ (happy valentine's day!)
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dangerousbride · 7 months
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Vampire 🧛🔪 || (Extra)
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glorysbox · 7 months
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hi it’s me elias 🙏🙏 i had an idea for a bot I wanted to make but I thought it would be way better if you wrote it ‼️ because I read the one where you’re in the jeep and… well. ANYWAYS
my idea is basically you and Leon are long distance and you barely see each other except for a few times a year, you barely even get to call because you’re both really busy with work. it’s Valentine’s Day and you’re alone (obviously) but you really miss him. he’s not responding to your calls and it’s worrying you, maybe he’s found someone else?? then you hear knocking at your door and there he is!!!! he’s flown to see you for Valentine’s Day to finally spend time with you again. his intentions aren’t entirely sexual at first, he also just really misses you and wants to make sure you’re okay. but then he quickly realizes what he wants (and what you want.) it’s been SO long since the two of you have had sex. like years and he’s been thinking about it so much like all the damn time
you really don’t have to include all the stuff at the beginning but I just wanted to give you like the backstory ig for my idea so you can write it like. so that it makes sense. i’m really not good at explaining things so I hope this makes sense and also i love your writing
this ended up being so long... i'm sorry. right after i said i would only do 1-2k fics
leon x gn!reader (i wasn't sure if you wanted anything specific so i made it as neutral as possible!) wc: 4.6k... warnings: explicitly 18+, cumming inside, hurt + comfort, Leon's a little bit of a jerk unintentionally, make-up sex
You knew what you were getting into when you started dating Leon.
You knew that you'd be alone. That he'd go on missions in foreign countries—dangerous missions—and that you'd be left wondering if he was okay or if he was even alive. But you still started dating him.
Because you love him.
Which is why today of all days is especially difficult for you. It's like the world is taunting you—everywhere you turn, there's an advertisement for Valentine's Day specials or a couple making out on the damn corner or a guy beaming as he walks down the street holding a box of chocolates and flowers in both hands.
You love Leon... but god do you hate Valentine's Day. It's one thing to only see your boyfriend a few times in a year, and it's another to be constantly reminded about just how lonely you are without him. Which is why you're currently sat on your couch, lights off, snuggled under the blanket that he bought you some odd few years ago. It still smells like him.
It's not something you've ever bothered to bring up to him. Just how lonely you are and how you miss him so often—he already has so much on his plate, why add more? That's what you tell yourself. Still, the feelings are starting to bubble over into... uncharted territory. Each time your phone buzzes, you find yourself excitedly grabbing it to see if maybe, for once... he'd call you on Valentine's Day. Or call you at all for that matter.
But he doesn't.
He never has.
He probably never will.
You really don't mean to be so upset about it... you knew what you were getting into. But still... at least one call a week, right? That's what he's promised you.
It's been two.
And it's far from the first time that he's skipped calling you. As much as it pains you to admit, there are more important things that he has to deal with—and as much as you want to be, you're unfortunately low on his priority list.
But again, you deal with it.
Because you love him.
Even if he doesn't always get the chance to call you on your birthday because he's so busy with work. Valentine's Day always goes the same. You're alone. Your boyfriend doesn't call you. You're left to watch the stupid, cheesy romance movies that you wish you could force Leon to watch and cuddle up with him on the couch like a normal couple would.
But... you're not a normal couple. You've long since accepted that... or, tried to. You've tried. Here you are, just as you have been for the past however many years, crying on your sofa as you imagine what could have been. What your relationship could be if Leon didn't have such an intensive job. It's not long before the tears start to flow freely down your cheeks.
The guilt eats you alive. You feel bad for wanting to demand some of Leon's attention. You feel bad for even feeling bad, for crying out loud. Even though, if Leon were here right now, you know that he'd comfort you and tell you just how appreciative he is of you for even sticking around for someone like him—a government agent with too much baggage.
"Damn it..." The frustration is evident as you speak to no one in particular—the noise coming out of your mouth more of a pathetic mutter than anything as you struggle to keep your emotions in check. Grabbing the remote, you very quickly turn off the scene in the movie where the two leads were about to confess their love for each other and share a kiss. God, you could use one of those right now. Being without Leon kills you. Not being able to feel his biceps around your body, squeezing the life out of you, kills you. Not being able to wake up next to him and see the way that he smiles when you're the first thing he sees opening his eyes.
It kills you so much, in fact, that as you trudge towards the front door after hearing a few short knocks, that you're not even bothering to mask your sniffles or the fact that you're feeling less than hot right now.
You hate Valentine's Day.
Opening the door with a sigh, you wipe your tears away with the back of your hand—again, not being exactly too mindful of the person who's at your front door. Cluelessness and a lack of situational awareness has always, truly, been your downfall. Of course. It's Leon. Now you're just feeling guilty again—having spent the whole day cursing him out in your mind only for him to show up at your door to surprise you.
"Are you..." You feel a familiar hand cup your face, the warmth of his calloused palm pressing and squishing against your cheek as Leon's fingers press into the soft skin. The sound of plastic wrap crinkling fills your ears; if you were to look up from your feet, you would be able to see the bouquet of flowers. Flowers. For you. From Leon. On Valentine's Day.
A part of you wants to jump into his arms. To plant kisses all over his face. To thank him for even thinking of you, even if what he's done is just the bare minimum. Another part of you just can't help but feel frustrated. Knowing that after this, after the one day that you stay together, he'll be called in to another other-worldly mission that leaves you up at night with knots in your stomach anticipating his next call to know if he's okay.
Leon's touch leaves goosebumps in it's wake. His thumb wipes the tears pooling at the corners of your eyes, and then trails down to feel the skin of your neck. He can practically feel the heat radiating off of you.
"You're crying." A statement, more than a question. Your eyes are red, your pretty lips turned into a frown, and your red nose is enough of an indication of the truth. How are you going to get yourself out of this one? You really, really don't want to burden him with your feelings. You're happy, really. He doesn't need anything more on his plate.
"I...'m fine. Really, I'm just..." A sigh escapes your lips. An involuntary one. Looking up finally, you meet his gaze. Leon's icy blue eyes bore into your own, his brows drawn in and a taut frown visible on his lips. "Just was watching a sad movie." He hates to see you upset. Leon knows it's wrong of him to neglect you like this. But to see the effects of what he's done... to say that he feels horribly guilty and responsible would be an understatement. And he is responsible.
"A sad movie on Valentine's Day?" He questions, his tone slightly teasing as you step aside to let him inside of your apartment. Leon takes a deep breath—the scent of your apartment and warmth enveloping him, finally, after months. He always preferred your apartment over his... it feels like home, in his words. "I got you these."
You don't respond as he walks in your apartment like he owns it. You follow him as he makes his way into your kitchen, the silence thick and unbearable and equal parts uncomfortable. You missed him. Badly. And yet, still... you're finding it hard to open up to him right now. Maybe it's the years of bitterness of this specific damn day that are catching up to you. Leon opens your cabinet, taking out one of your mason jars to fill with water and put your hydrangeas in. As much as you want to appreciate them... and his presence, you find it hard.
"Leon, I—"
"I'm sorry." His voice cuts you off before you can continue; his tone low and just as apologetic. The mason jar full of baby blue hydrangeas is cast off to the side of your countertop as he makes his way towards you. The scent of his favorite aftershave (that he only uses to impress you) fills your nostrils as he breaches the distance between the both of you.
"You don't have to—"
"I want to. I want to apologize. I need to..." His hands reach, gripping the skin of your forearms as he speaks. Leon sighs after a few moments, one of his hands reaching to run through his dirty blonde hair in a rare display of uncertainty from him. He's not good in these situations. "I haven't been the best." That's... certainly an understatement. And he knows it, too, judging from the look of guilt on his features.
Silence fills the kitchen for a few moments. Leon struggles to find the words that he wants to say—and he does have so many things to tell you. He wants you to know just how much he's missed you. He wants you to know how thankful he is for you always sticking around. He wants you to know how sorry he is for not being the boyfriend he thinks you deserve.
But... Leon was never really that good at expressing himself. Communication is one of his weakest points—he's closed off. Hard to read. But he's trying. Very hard, right now, just for you.
Because Leon loves you.
"I haven't called you. I'm sorry. I've been..." Leon swallows, shaking his head for a moment, as he then lets out a sigh. "There's no excuse. I'm sorry."
Eye contact with Leon is something that you've always savored. He's the kind of man that makes you weak in the knees just from the looks that he gives you. Of course, yes—that extends to this very moment. His eyes are full of so much... love, is it? Appreciation for you? Whatever it is, it's making your face turn redder and your heart beat faster and your hands clammier than they have ever been for the past year.
"I know you're busy, Leon... you don't have to apologize to me." The feeling of his hands running along your arms has you breathing a little quicker than before. "I'm not upset at you for it." You are, though. And he knows it. And he knows that you're just refusing to admit it because you don't want to stress him out any more than he already is, considering the state of his job.
Another long, tense silence fills the room as the both of you struggle to find the words to say. This isn't how he wanted your meeting after God knows how long to go—even though, realistically, after being neglected by him for so long... this was the only possible outcome. Still, he savors the feeling of your skin under his fingertips. He savors the pretty color of your eyes and the way you look at him so intensely that it makes his knees weak. Not that he would ever admit that last part.
"I love you. More than you know... I'm sorry." Another apology slips from his lips as he continues to feel the skin of your arms. The way his thumb rubs circles on your shoulder makes you want to explode and melt into putty right then and there. "I want to do better. To show you how much you really mean to me."
"How do you plan to do that?" The question comes out softly; the tone of your voice unconsciously sweet as you find the anger and bitterness seeping out of you by the second. It feels good. He's only touching your arm, and yet, it feels too good. You needed this. He needed this more than you did.
Leon, once more, is not a man very adept at communication. He keeps his feelings bottled up. A defense mechanism—he has to, in the line of work that he's in. What is good at, though, is showing you. You barely register it at first, the feeling of his lips on yours. It's so familiar yet alien at the same time. It's been so, so long.
His lips are soft as they're on your own. Leon's hands gently wrap around your body: one clinging to your upper arm, the other perched right on your waist. His favorite place to touch when you're kissing like this—something you'd nearly forgotten. You respond nearly immediately, almost instinctively, as your lips match his own. The tears that were just falling from your face ten minutes ago are long since forgotten now. He pulls away, much to your dismay.
"I missed you." Leon's lips are back on your own before you can respond; his touch and kiss sweet and soft and loving and essentially everything you've ever wanted for the past however long. He pulls away again, hovering over your lips. "I love you."
"I missed you more." You respond, gripping to pull him closer. He leans in again, the ghost of a smile on his lips at the way you quip back at him. These are the moments that he truly relishes in. Being inside of your warm apartment, feeling your lips on him, being able to touch you all over without having to worry about the constraint of time. Just being with you. If he had his way, it would be like this every day. He'd wake up next to you. Tell you how much you mean to him. Feel you. Every day.
"The thought of you is the only thing that kept me going." Leon says softly, his hands riding up your arms to cup your face in both of his palms. He places one sweet, soft kiss on your lips. Then another. "Knowing that I'd be able to come back to you one day."
The admission has you speechless—you think, at least. It might just be the way he's kissing you, the way he's guiding you closer to him and the way his lips are beginning to move with just the slightest bit more passion. You’re putty in his hands, and he's equally putty in yours.
It's not long before his hands start to... travel. He can't help it. Leon is a disciplined man. His job requires it of him; self control is an aspect of his personality that's saved he and many, many of the other people that he's come to work with. When it comes to you, though, he finds it... particularly hard to keep himself in check. It's evident in his restrained motions against you.
The way his hands flutter to your waist, squeezing the flesh slightly—not enough to hurt, but enough for you to not be able to ignore it's presence. His breath quickens, the warmth fanning over your face as you swear his pupils are blown further than you've ever seen them. He doesn't want you getting the wrong idea, though. He really did just come to give you some flowers and apologize... but it's you.
How can he not want to lose control?
Leon is a very selfless man... times like this, however, he finds himself to become increasingly selfish. "I love you," he repeats, his fingers running along the hem of your shirt. Cold fingers press against the warmth of your skin, sending a shiver down your spine as they travel further up your torso. "Let me show you how much I love you."
"In the kitchen?" The question comes out more teasing than angry, the breathlessness of your tone making Leon's grip on your skin tighten. There's no response for a few moments—not because he's ignoring you, but because he's focusing on placing wet, hot kisses on your neck and lining them just below your ear. He knows you're sensitive there. He breaks away from your neck for a few moments.
The way his eyes are trained on your own have your heartbeat quickening even faster; the lack of a response making you shift your weight from one foot to the other. You're not even naked, and still he manages to make you feel so exposed under his gaze. One of his hands begin to bunch up your shirt, not enough to fully reveal your body.
You try not to focus on his arms too much—try not to focus on the way the veins line the muscles that he's built over the years. You try not to focus on the protrusion in his pants. His labored breathing. The way that he looks at you.
"In the bed." he uses the hand gripping your shirt to begin to guide you down the hallway. Towards the bedroom.
Leon makes good on his promise of showing his love for you.
It's been too long since you've been with him like this. Back flush against the bed, shirt pulled up just under your chin, his hands roaming all over the soft skin of your body, squeezing on the sensitive flesh of your thighs. His fingers ghost over the fabric of your underwear for a few moments, eyes trained on your reaction as he relishes in the way that you squirm under him.
"Just as sensitive as I remember," he muses, his knuckle applying pressure slightly—a smile on his face as he anticipates your reaction. "It's been too long."
"Mm," You can only hum in response, the sound of your own pulse thrumming in your ears as your body unconsciously reacts to his touch. "Yeah. I missed you."
The two of you have said the phrase at least a dozen times by now—and yet, still, the meaning of it isn't diminished in even the slightest. You missed this. And he missed this more than you could ever even know. So many nights of him staying up late, imagining you pressed up against him. Imagining himself between your thighs.. hands pressed under his pants, eyes screwed shut as he reminisced on the sounds that you'd make.
Leon can't wait anymore.
He's toyed with you enough. Propping himself on his knees, slotted between your legs, he begins to pull at his belt buckle. Your breath is shallow, paused even as you watch him unzip his pants. He uses one hand, tugging on the button as the other reaches for you. Leon's fingertips ghost along the curve of your body, feeling along the swell of your hip, reaching to the indent of your waist. His hand presses into your chest, feeling the flesh below him—his fingertips pinching your nipple and eliciting a whine from your lips.
"Leon—" The sound of his belt and pants crumpling to the floor cut you off. You tremble beneath him, body taut and awaiting his touch. The tips of Leon's ears are pink as he wraps his hand around his shaft, breathing labored as his thumb swipes over the slit of his head—collecting the precum that very freely seeps in need for you.
It's big. Like the rest of him. Big enough that each time you two have sex, he has to press inside you slowly, slow enough so that you could adjust to the size. Still, despite this, he splits you open each time.
He lines himself up. Your thighs wrap around Leon's hips, hands perched on his arm that rests on your own. The blunt tip of his cock presses against you, smearing his precum as your back instinctively arches again upon feeling his touch. Leon's breath is very, very audibly labored.
"You okay?" The worry in his tone is evident as his cock spreads you open, slowly but surely slipping into you. Inch by inch. One hand grips onto the skin of your hip, keeping you in place as his swollen cock splits you open. You can't respond, of course. The way that he bullies his way inside of you leaves you all but breathless, your nails leaving crescent-shaped indents in the skin of his forearm. All you can do is nod.
"Good," his eyes on you are full of nothing less than pure adoration, his voice raspy and low and full of desire. "You feel so good already."
You're caged between Leon and the bed. The scent of aftershave and his cologne engulfs you just as much as his body around you does, his lips hovering over yours ever so often as he whispers praises in your ear and tells you just how sweet you look under him and how well you take his cock. It's not long before he's fully sheathed inside of you, the imprint of his cock shaping your insides and filling you completely.
"You feel—" Leon sheathes the rest of his cock inside of you, the last couple inches pulling a drawn out whine from you as you take all of him. A groan escapes Leon's lips, his head hanging low for a few moments as he steadies himself and struggles to adjust to just how good and warm you feel wrapped around him. In the moment of respite, his hands roam up and down your body, dedicating the shape and the curve to his memory as he elicits whimpers from you by rolling the peaks of your nipples between his two fingers.
"Leon... please." He slides his length out of you slowly, a sigh to his voice that compliments the whine you let out at the overwhelming feeling of him slipping in and out of you slowly. He craves this; craves the feeling of you under him, the feeling of your warmth wrapped around him, the touch of your lips on his own. His obsession with you encompasses his thoughts every second.
"You're too good to me..." Rasp lines his voice as he looks at you underneath him. The way your hair is a mess, the expression of your face as he presses his cock back inside of you. The sight of your body, bare, for him. And only him. It's hard not to get lost in the feeling of you. The slow pace Leon sets only quickens with each passing moment, his hips snapping against your own as he makes a conscious effort to pull out all the way each time to slam his hips back and press inside of you.
The feeling is unrivaled; the sight of this handsome man—your boyfriend—sighing and groaning on top of you at the feeling of you around him. The way that he's splitting you open—his hips brutally pounding into you with all of the strength that he can muster.
Leon hungrily watches you. He watches the way your eyebrows are raised, the way your eyes roll towards the back of your skull with each particularly hard thrust inside of you. Watches the way your body ripples with each pounding of his cock into you. The way you look up at him, your expression so fucked out and pretty... it takes everything in him to not cum right then and there.
"C—can't—feels too good, Leon—" Your whines and moans come out in unintelligible babbles as the skin slapping sound reverberates in the small walls of your bedroom. Leon doesn't stop—he can't stop, even. The groans from his throat are low are raspy, each one sending a throb of need throughout your body.
"Fuck," His hands pull at your hips, lifting the bottom half of your body up slightly to better angle his cock as it slams into you. "Feel so fucking good. Needed this." The headboard slams against the wall with each thrust of his hips, the springs of your boxboard even creaking as he fucks you into the mattress. Leon is rough.
But you like it.
You like the underlying tender current in his movements, long for the way his hands pull as you and maneuver you as if you weigh nothing. You like the way you can hear the squelching sounds as he pounds into you. You're sure that he's going to leave little finger-pad shaped bruises on your hips by the time that he's done with you—not that you're actively thinking of it; too busy focusing on the mind-numbing pleasure that your boyfriend gives you as he fucks you harder than he ever has before. It'll be a reminder of the night you've shared together.
The pleasure is too much. It's all-encompassing, making your toes curl as Leon's eyes screw shut in response—head hanging low as he struggles to keep whatever semblance of control that he has left. It always seems to escape him when he's with you. Especially when he's with you like this: buried inside of you, making you remember who you belong to, and pulling those pretty noises out of your mouth that he touches himself to every night he's not with you.
Leon's memorized your body by now. He has to, to survive every night he spends away from you. Every crevice, curve, and every motion that you make. From the way your back is arching, the way that your hands claw at his own—leaving angry red marks—it's clear that you're close. The way that you squeeze around him, leak around him... it's obvious.
"Gonna cum in you," he states, doesn't say—doesn't ask, he tells. "And you're gonna take it all." There's nothing you can do but take it. He leaves wet, sloppy kisses all down your neck—drawing back for a moment to place another right on your lips. He swallows up your whines, the noises muffled by his lips spurring him onward. His hips twitch, and stutter—but he keeps the pace. Leon wants to show you how much he loves you, remember?
His hips drive into you, burying his shaft to the hilt inside of you every time. It's almost like a game to him—fucking you as hard as he can—the prize being the sounds you make each time he impales you with his cock. You grip at his hands, pulling on them—pulling on his arms, the sheets below you—anything. Anything to ground you.
He doesn't stop. Even as you're whining his name, babbling about how you're gonna cum, even as you're arching and shaking under him as you cum around him—hard. Your hands and fingers are nothing to the feeling of being filled by him. Leon fucks you through your orgasm, his own voice shaky as he talks you through it. Telling you how beautiful you are. How well you take him. Telling you to keep squeezing his cock like that, because he's so close.
Leon's hips sputter and twitch, his pace faltering as he groans—deep and raspy—his balls squeezing as he empties himself inside of you. He presses his hips into you still, buried to the hilt so that not even a modicum of space separates him from you. Thick, hot ropes of his cum spurt inside of you. You can even feel him shaking from the intensity of his orgasm.
Still buried inside of you, Leon leans down, pressing his body on top of yours as he seeks out your warmth and the comfort of your arms wrapped around him. He almost doesn't want to pull out—and in another act of selfishness, he decides to linger in you for just a few moments. You don't stop him.
A comfortable silence befalls the room. Save for the sounds of your breathing, the room is quiet. It takes a few moments of riding out the aftershocks and gaining your conscience back (since he did fuck it out of you) for you to speak.
"I don't want you to leave." Leon knows that you're always sappy after sex. It's why he spends extra time cuddling you. Reminding you that you're the only one for him. That only you make him feel so much love. Your hands hug him tighter, bringing him even closer down on to you.
"Not leaving." He mutters, voice slightly muffled as his face is buried in the crook of your neck.
That's all you needed to hear.
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oreonyu · 3 months
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I'll shine enough light on the church's treachery for the both of us
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snailfen · 9 months
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@pansear-doodles im finally home from my second summer program so im joining in on these! heres my normal and r&r artis with pupils and spearmaster with a mouth! ft wanderer....
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